網頁圖片
PDF
ePub 版

Than I to praise thy eminence in arms,
And be the echo of thy martial fame.
No longer vainly feed a guilty passion :
Go and pursue a lawful mistress, Glory.
Upon the Danish crests redeem thy fault,
And let thy valour be the shield of Randolph.
Glen. One instant stay, and hear an alter'd man.
When beauty pleads for virtue, vice abash'd
Flies its own colours, and goes o'er to virtue.
I am your convert; time will shew how truly:
Yet one immediate proof I mean to give.
That youth for whom your ardent zeal to-day,
Somewhat too haughtily, defy'd your slave,
Amidst the shock of armies I'll defend,
And turn death from him with a guardian arm.
Lady R. Act thus, Glenalvon, and I am thy friend:
But that's thy least reward. Believe me, sir,

The truly generous is the truly wise ;

And he, who loves not others, lives unblest.

[Exit LADY Randolph,

Glen. [Solus.] Amen! and virtue is its own reward!

I think, that I have hit the very tone

In which she loves to speak. Honey'd assent,
How pleasing art thou to the taste of man,
And woman also! flattery direct

Seldom disgusts. They little know mankind,
Who doubt its operation: 'tis my key,
And opes the wicket of the human heart.
How far I have succeeded now, I know not.
Yet I incline to think her stormy virtue
Is lull'd awhile; 'tis her alone I fear :
Whilst she and Randolph live, and live in faith
And amity, uncertain is my tenure.

That slave of Norval's I have found most apt :
I shew'd him gold, and he has pawn'd his soul
To say and swear whatever I suggest.
Norval, I'm told, has that alluring look,

'Twixt man and woman, which I have observed
To charm the nicer and fantastic dames,
Who are, like Lady Randolph, full of virtue.
In raising Randolph's jealousy, I may

But point him to the truth.. He seldom errs,
Who thinks the worst he can of womankind.

[Exit.

ACT THE FOURTH.

SCENE I.

A Court.

Flourish of Trumpets.

Enter LORD RANDOLPH, attended.

Lord R. Summon an hundred horse by break of day, To wait our pleasure at the castle gate.

Lady R. Alas! my lord! I've heard unwelcome

news:

The Danes are landed.

Lord R. Ay, no inroad this

Of the Northumbrian, bent to take a spoil;
No sportive war, no tournament essay

Of some young knight, resolv'd to break a spear,
And stain with hostile blood his maiden arms.
The Danes are landed: we must beat them back,
Or live the slaves of Denmark.

Lady R. Dreadful times!

Lord R. The fenceless villages are all forsaken;
The trembling mothers, and their children lodged
In well-girt towers and castles: whilst the men
Retire indignant. Yet, like broken waves,
They but retire more awful to return.

Lady R. Immense, as fame reports, the Danish

host!

Lord R. Were it as numerous as loud fame re

ports,

An army knit like ours would pierce it through :
Brothers that shrink not from each other's side,
And fond companions, fill our warlike files:
For his dear offspring, and the wife he loves,
The husband, and the fearless father arm.
In vulgar breasts heroic ardour burns,

And the poor peasant mates his daring lord.

Lady R. Men's minds are temper'd, like their swords, for war.

Hence, early graves; hence the lone widow's life;
And the sad mother's grief embitter'd age.
Where is our gallant guest?

Lord R. Down in the vale

I left him managing a fiery steed,

Whose stubbornness had foil'd the strength and skill
Of every rider. But behold he comes,
In earnest conversation with Glenalvon.-

Enter NORVAL and GLENALVON.

Glenalvon, with the lark arise: go forth
And lead my troops that lie in yonder vale:
Private I travel to the royal camp :

Norval, thou go’st with me.

But say, young man,

Where didst thou learn so to discourse of war,

And in such terms as I o'erheard to-day?
War is no village science, nor its phrase

A language taught among the shepherd swains.

Nor. Small is the skill my lord delights to praise
In him he favours. Hear from whence it came.
Beneath a mountain's brow, the most remote,
And inaccessible, by shepherds trod,

In a deep cave, dug by no mortal hand,
A hermit lived; a melancholy man,

Who was the wonder of our wand'ring swains :
Austere and lonely, cruel to himself,

Did they report him; the cold earth his bed,
Water his drink, his food the shepherds' alms.
I went to see him, and my heart was touch'd
With reverence and pity. Mild he spake,
And, entering on discourse, such stories told
As made me oft revisit his sad cell.
For he had been a soldier in his youth;
And fought in famous battles when the peers
Of Europe, by the bold Godfredo led,
Against th' usurping infidel display'd

The blessed cross, and won the Holy Land.
Pleased with my admiration, and the fire

His speech struck from me, the old man would shake
His years away, and act his young encounters;
Then having shew'd his wounds, he sit him down,
And all the live-long day discourse of war.
To help my fancy, in the smooth green turf
He cut the figures of the marshall'd hosts;
Described the motions, and explain'd the use
Of the deep column, and the lengthen'd line,
The square, the crescent, and the phalanx firm.
For all, that Saracen or Christian knew
Of war's vast art, was to this hermit known.

[Trumpets at a distance

Lord R. From whence these sounds >

Enter an OFFICER.

Offi. My lord, the trumpets of the troops of Lorn: Their valiant leader hails the noble Randolph.

Lord R. Mine ancient guest! does he the warrio

lead?

Has Denmark roused the brave old knight to arms? Ofi. No; worn with warfare, he resigns the sword; His eldest hope, the valiant John of Lorn,

Now leads his kindred bands.

Lord R. Glenalvon, go.

With hospitality's most strong request
Entreat the chief.

Offi. My lord, requests are vain.

He urges on, impatient of delay,

[Exit GLENALVon.

Stung with the tidings of the foe's approach.

Lord R. May victory sit on the warrior's plume!
Bravest of men! his flocks and herds are safe;
Remote from war's alarms his pastures lie,;
By mountains inaccessible secured;
Yet foremost he into the plain descends,
Eager to bleed in battles not his own.
Such were the heroes of the ancient world;
Contemners they of indolence and gain;
But still for love of glory and of arms,
Prone to encounter peril, and to lift
Against each strong antagonist the spear.
I'll go and press the hero to my breast.

[Exit with Officer. Lady R. The soldier's loftiness, the pride and

pomp

Investigating awful war, Norval, I see,
Transport thy youthful mind.

Nor. Ah! should they not?

Bless'd be the hour I left my father's house;
I might have been a shepherd all my days,
And stole obscurely to a peasant's grave;
Now, if I live, with mighty chiefs I stand;
And if I fall, with noble dust I lie.

Lady R. There is a generous spirit in thy breast, That could have well sustain'd à prouder fortune. Since lucky chance has left us here alone,

« 上一頁繼續 »