SCENE IV.

The Scene returns to the Apartment at the beginning of Act Second. OSWALD and DURWARD are discovered with ELEANOR, FLORA, and LEONARDDURWARD shuts a Prayer-book, which he seems to have been reading.

DUR. "Tis true

churches,

Who conjure Hebrew into Anglo-Saxon,
To cheat starved barons with, can little guess at.
FLO. If he begin so roundly with my father,
His madness is not like to save his bones.

GUL. Sirs, midnight came, and with it came the
goblin.

I had reposed me after some brief study;
But as the soldier, sleeping in the trench,

the difference betwixt the Keeps sword and musket by him, so I had
My little Hebrew manual prompt for service.
FLO. Sausagian sous'd face; that much of you
Hebrew

Which zealots love to dwell on, to the wise
Of either flock are of far less importance
Than those great truths to which all Christian men
Subscribe with equal reverence.

Osw. We thank thee, father, for the holy office,
Still best performed when the pastor's tongue
Is echo to his breast; of jarring creeds
It ill beseems a layman's tongue to speak.-
Where have you stow'd yon prater? [To FLORA.
FLO. Safe in the goblin-chamber.
ELE.
The goblin-chamber!
Maiden, wert thou frantic?-if his Reverence
Have suffered harm by waspish Owlspiegle,
Be sure thou shalt abye it.

Enter GULLCRAMMER, in the fashion in which OWLSPIEGLE had put him: having the fool's-cap on his head, and towel about his neck, &c. His manner through the scene is wild and extravagant, as if the fright had a little affected his brain.

DUR. A goodly spectacle !-Is there such a goblin, (To Osw.) Or has sheer terror made him such a figure?

Osw. There is a sort of wavering tradition Of a malicious imp who teazed all strangers; My father wont to call him Owlspiegle.

GUL. Who talks of Owlspiegle ?

He is an honest fellow for a devil,

So is his son, the hopeful Cockle'moy.

(Sings.)

"My hope, my joy,

My Cockledemoy !"

Even I can bear in memory.

GUL.

We counter'd,

The goblin and myself, even in mid-chamber,
And each stepp'd back a pace, as 'twere to study
The foe he had to deal with!-I bethought me,
Ghosts ne'er have the first word, and so I took it,
And fired a volley of round Greek at him.
He stood his ground, and answer'd in the Syriac;
I flank'd my Greek with Hebrew, and compell'd
him-

[A noise heard

Osw. Peace, idle prater!-Hark-what sounds
are these?

Amid the growling of the storm without,
I hear strange notes of music, and the clash
Of coursers' trampling feet.

VOICES (without.)

We come, dark riders of the night,
And flit before the dawning light;
Hill and valley, far aloof,
Shake to hear our chargers' hoof;
But not a foot-stamp on the green

At morn shall show where we have been.

Osw. These must be revellers belated-
Let them pass on; the ruin'd halls of Devongoil
Open to no such guests.-

[Flourish of trumpets at a distance, then nearer They sound a summons; What can they lack at this dead hour of night? Look out, and see their number, and their bearing LEO. (goes up to the window.) 'Tis strange--one single shadowy form alone

LEO. The fool's bewitch'd-the goblin hath fur- Is hovering on the drawbridge--far apart

And the sun sets not, to pronounce to thee,
Oswald of Devorgoil, thy house's fate.

Of such a wasted, woe-worn wretch as I am,
Can save him from the abyss of misery,

DUR. I charge thee, in the name we late have Upon whose verge he's tottering, let me wander kneel'd to

PAL. Abbot of Lanercost, I bid thee peace!
Uninterrupted let me do mine errand:
Baron of Devorgoil, son of the bold, the proud,
The warlike and the mighty, wherefore wear'st
thou

The nabit of a peasant? Tell me, wherefore
Are thy fair halls thus waste-thy chambers bare-
Where are the tapestries, where the conquer'd
banners,

Trophies, and gilded arms, that deck'd the walls
Of once proud Devorgoil?

[He advances, and places himself where the
Armor hung, so as to be nearly in the
centre of the Scene.

DUR. Whoe'er thou art-if thou dost know so

much,

Needs must thou know

Osw. Peace! I will answer here; to me he spoke.

Mysterious stranger, briefly I reply:

A peasant's dress befits a peasant's fortune;
And 'twere vain mockery to array these walls
In trophies, of whose memory naught remains,
Save that the cruelty outvied the valor
Of those who wore them.

PAL.
Degenerate as thou art,
Knowst thou to whom thou say'st this?

[He drops his mantle, and is discovered
armed as nearly as may be to the suit
which hung on the wall; all express

terror.

Osw. It is himself—the spirit of mine ancestor !
ERI. Tremble not, son, but hear me!

[He strikes the wall; it opens, and dis-
covers the Treasure-Chamber.

There lies piled
The wealth I brought from wasted Cumberland,
Enough to reinstate thy ruin'd fortunes.—
Cast from thine high-born brows that peasant bon-
net,

Throw from thy noble grasp the peasant's staff,
O'er all, withdraw thine hand from that mean mate,
Whom in an hour of reckless desperation

Thy fortunes cast thee on. This do,

And be as great as ere was Devorgoil,

When Devorgoil was richest !1

An unacknowledged outcast from his castle,
Even to the humble cottage I was born in.

Osw. No, Ellen, no-it is not thus they part,
Whose hearts and souls, disasters borne in common
Have knit together, close as summer saplings
Are twined in union by the eddying tempest.-
Spirit of Erick, while thou bear'st his shape,
I'll answer with no ruder conjuration
Thy impious counsel, other than with these words,
Depart, and tempt me not!

ERI. Then fate will have her course.-Fall, mas-
sive grate,
[sures,
Yield them the tempting view of these rich trea-
But bar them from possession!

[A portcullis falls before the door of the

Treasure-Chamber.

Mortals, hear!

No hand may ope that grate, except the Heir
Of plunder'd Aglionby, whose mighty wealth,
Ravish'd in evil hour, lies yonder piled;
And not his hand prevails without the key
Of Black Lord Erick; brief space is given
To save proud Devorgoil.—So wills high Heaven.
[Thunder; he disappears.

DUR. Gaze not so wildly; you have stood the
trial

That his commission bore, and Heaven designs,
If I may spell his will, to rescue Devorgoil
Even by the Heir of Aglionby—Behold him
In that young forester, unto whose hand
Those bars shall yield the treasures of his house,
Destined to ransom yours.-Advance, young Leon-
ard,

And prove the adventure.

LEO, (advances and attempts the grate.) It is fast As is the tower, rock-seated.

Osw. We will fetch other means, and prove its
strength,

Nor starve in poverty with wealth before us.
DUR. Think what the vision spoke;
The key-the fated key

Enter GULLCRAMMER.

GUL. A key ?—I say a quay is what we want, Thus by the learn'd orthographized—Q, u, a, y. The lake is overflow'd !-a quay, a boat,

Oars, punt, or sculler, is all one to me!

Enter KATLEEN and BLACKTHORN.

DUR. Lord Oswald, thou art tempted by a fiend, | We shall be drown'd, good people!!!
Who doth assail thee on thy weakest side,-
Thy pride of lineage, and thy love of grandeur.
Stand fast-resist-contemn his fatal offers!
ELE. Urge him not, father; if the sacrifice

1 MS.- And be as rich as ere was Devorgoil, When Devorgoil was proudest."

KAT. Deliver us Haste, save yourselves-the lake is rising fast

* If it could be managed to render the rising of the bea rip ible, it would answer well for a coup-de-théâtre.

BLA. "Thas risen my bow's height in the last five (GULLCRAMMER offers to take it.) But soft you, sir,

Auchindrane;

OR,

THE AYRSHIRE TRAGEDY.

Cur aliquid vidi? cur noxia lumina feci
Cur imprudenti cognita culpa mihi est ?
OVIDII Tristium, Liber Secundus.

PREFACE.

ambition, the phrensy of ungratified revenge, the perfervidum ingenium Scotorum, stigmatized by our jurists and our legislators, held life but as passing breath; and such enormities as now sound like the acts of a madman, were then the familiar deeds of every offended noble. With these ob

THERE is not, perhaps, upon record, a tale of horror which gives us a more perfect picture than is afforded by the present, of the violence of our ancestors, or the complicated crimes into which they were hurried, by what their wise, but ill-servations we proceed to our story. enforced, laws termed the heathenish and accursed practice of Deally Feud. The author has tried to extract some dramatic scenes out of it; but he is conscious no exertions of his can increase the horror of that which is in itself so iniquitous. Yet, if we look at modern events, we must not too hastily venture to conclude that our own times have so much the superiority over former days as we might at first be tempted to infer. One great object has indeed been obtained. The power of the laws extends over the country universally, and if criminals at present sometimes escape punishment, this can only be by eluding justice,—not, as of old, by defying it.

But the motives which influence modern ruffians to commit actions at which we pause with wonder and horror, arise, in a great measure, from the thirst of gain. For the hope of lucre, we have seen a wretch seduced to his fate, under the pretext that he was to share in amusement and conviviality; and, for gold, we have seen the meanest of wretches deprived of life, and their miserable remains cheated of the grave.

The loftier, if equally cruel, feelings of pride, ambition, and love of vengeance, were the idols of our forefathers, while the caitiffs of our day bend to Mammon, the meanest of the spirits who fell.' The criminals, therefore, of former times, drew their hellish inspiration from a loftier source than is known to modern villains. The fever of unsated

John Muir, or Mure, of Auchindrane, the contriver and executor of the following cruelties, was a gentleman of an ancient family and good estate in the west of Scotland; bold, ambitious, treacherous to the last degree, and utterly unconscientions,—a Richard the Third in private life, inaccessible alike to pity and to remorse. His view was to raise the power, and extend the grandeur, of his own family. This gentleman had married the dangh ter of Sir Thomas Kennedy of Barganie, who was, excepting the Earl of Cassilis, the most important person in all Carrick, the district of Ayrshire which he inhabited, and where the name of Kennedy held so great a sway as to give rise to the popular rhyme,—

"Twixt Wigton and the town of Air,
Portpatrick and the Cruives of Cree,
No man need think for to bide there,
Unless he court Saint Kennedie."

Now, Mure of Auchindrane, who had cromised himself high advancement by means of his fatherin-law Barganie, saw, with envy and resentment, that his influence remained second and inferior to the House of Cassilis, chief of all the Kennedys The Earl was indeed a minor, but his authority was maintained, and his affairs well managed, by his uncle, Sir Thomas Kennedy of Cullayne, the brother of the deceased Earl, and tutor and guardian to the present. This worthy gentleman supported his nephew's dignity and the credit of the house so effectually, that Barganie's consequence was much thrown into the shade, and the ambitious Auchindrane, his son-in-law, saw no better

remedy than to remove so formidable a rival as quarrel, considering his connection with AuchinCullayne by violent means.

For this purpose, in the year of God 1597, he came with a party of followers to the town of Maybole (where Sir Thomas Kennedy of Cullayne then resided), and lay in ambush in an orchard, through which he knew his destined victim was to pass, in returning homewards from a house where he was engaged to sup. Sir Thomas Kennedy came alone, and unattended, when he was suddenly fired upon by Auchindrane and his accomplices, who, having missed their aim, drew their swords, and rushed upon him to slay him. But the party thus assailed at disadvantage, had the good fortune to hide himself for that time in a ruinous house, where he lay concealed till the inhabitants of the place came to his assistance.

Sir Thomas Kennedy prosecuted Mure for this assault, who, finding himself in danger from the law, made a sort of apology and agreement with the Lord of Cullayne, to whose daughter he united his eldest son, in testimony of the closest friendship | in future. This agreement was sincere on the part of Kennedy, who, after it had been entered into, showed himself Auchindrane's friend and assistant on all occasions. But it was most false and treacherous on that of Mure, who continued to nourish the purpose of murdering his new friend and ally on the first opportunity.

drane as too intimate to be broken even by his desire to assist his nephew.

For this temperate and honorable conduct he met a vile reward; for Auchindrane, in resentment of the loss of his relative Barganie, and the downfall of his ambitious hopes, continued his practices against the life of Sir Thomas of Cullayne, though totally innocent of contributing to either. Chance favored his wicked purpose.

The Knight of Cullayne, finding himself obliged to go to Edinburgh on a particular day, sent a message by a servant to Mure, in which he told him, in the most unsuspecting confidence, the purpose of his journey, and named the road which he proposed to take, inviting Mure to meet him at Duppill, to the west of the town of Ayr, a place appointed, for the purpose of giving him any commissions which he might have for Edinburgh, and assuring his treacherous ally he would attend to any business which he might have in the Scottish metropolis as anxiously as to his own. Sir Thomas Kennedy's message was carried to the town of Maybole, where his messenger, for some trivial reason, had the import committed to writing by a schoolmaster in that town, and dispatched it to its destination by means of a poor student, named Dalrymple, instead of carrying it to the house of Auchindrane in person.

This suggested to Mure a diabolical plot. Having thus received tidings of Sir Thomas Kennedy's motions, he conceived the infernal purpose of having the confiding friend who sent the information, waylaid and murdered at the place appointed to meet with him, not only in friendship, but for the purpose of rendering him service. He dismissed the messenger Dalrymple, cautioning the lad to carry back the letter to Maybole, and to say that he had not found him, Auchindrane, in his house. Having taken this precaution, he proceeded to instigate the brother of the slain Gilbert of Barganie, Thomas Kennedy of Drumurghie by name, and Walter Mure of Cloncaird, a kinsman of his own, to take this opportunity of revenging Barganie's death. The fiery young men were easily induce i to undertake the crime. They waylaid the unsus

Auchindrane's first attempt to effect this was by means of the young Gilbert Kennedy of Barganie (for old Barganie, Auchindrane's father-in-law, was dead), whom he persuaded to brave the Earl of Cassilis, as one who usurped an undue influence over the rest of the name. Accordingly, this hotheaded youth, at the instigation of Auchindrane, rode past the gate of the Earl of Cassilis, without waiting on his chief, or sending him any message of civility. This led to mutual defiance, being regarded by the Earl, according to the ideas of the time, as a personal insult. Both parties took the field with their followers, at the head of about 250 men on each side. The action which ensued was shorter and less bloody than might have been expected. Young Barganie, with the rashness of headlong courage, and Auchindrane, fired by deadly enmity to the House of Cassilis, made a precipi-pecting Sir Thomas of Cullayne at the place ap tate attack on the Earl, whose men were strongly posted and under cover. They were received by a heavy fire. Barganie was slain. Mure of Auchindrane, severely wounded in the thigh, became unable to sit his horse, and, the leaders thus slain or disabled, their party drew off without continuing the action. It must be particularly observed, that Sir Thomas Kennedy remained neuter in this

1 "No papers which have bitherto been discovered appear lo afford so striking a picture of the savage state of barbarism

pointed to meet the traitor Auchindrane, and the murderers having in company five or six servants, well mounted and armed, assaulted and cruelly murdered him with many wounds. They then plundered the dead corpse of his purse, containing a thousand merks in gold, cut off the gold buttons which he wore on his coat, and despoiled the body of some valuable rings and jeweis.'

into which that country must have sunk, as the following Bond by the Earl of Cassilis, to his brother and heir-apparent,