SCENE, Borders of England and Scotland.

TIME, the Reign of Henry III.

READERS already acquainted with my Poems will recognize, in the following composition, some eight or ten lines, which I have not scrupled to retain in the places where they originally stood. It is proper, however, to add, that they would not have been used elsewhere, if I had foreseen the time when I might be induced to publish this Tragedy.

February 28, 1842.

ACT I.

SCENE, road in a wood.

WALLACE and LACY.

Lacy. The Troop will be impatient; let us hie Back to our post, and strip the Scottish Foray Of their rich spoil, ere they recross the Border.

- Pity that our young Chief will have no part In this good service.

Wal.

Rather let us grieve

That, in the undertaking which has caused
His absence, he hath sought, whate'er his aim,
Companionship with one of crooked ways,
From whose perverted soul can come no good
To our confiding, open-hearted Leader.

Lacy. True; and, remembering how the Band have proved

That Oswald finds small favor in our sight, Well may we wonder he has gained such power Over our much-loved Captain.

Wal.

I have heard Of some dark deed to which in early life

His passion drove him,

Upon the midland Sea.

You knew his bearing

In Palestine?

Lacy.

Where he despised alike

Mohammedan and Christian. But enough;
Let us begone, the Band may else be foiled.

Enter MARMADUKE and WILfred.

Wil. Be cautious, my dear Master!

Mar.

[Exeunt.

I perceive

That fear is like a cloak which old men huddle
About their love, as if to keep it warm.

Wil. Nay, but I grieve that we should part.

This stranger,

For such he is

VOL. I.

Mar.

Your busy fancies, Wilfred,

Might tempt me to a smile; but what of him? Wil. You know that you have saved his life. Mar.

I know it.

Wil. And that he hates you! - Pardon me,

perhaps

That word was hasty.

Mar.

Fy! no more of it.

Wil. Dear Master! gratitude's a heavy burden To a proud soul.- Nobody loves this Oswald, Yourself, you do not love him.

Mar.

I do more,

I honor him. Strong feelings to his heart

Are natural; and from no one can be learnt More of man's thoughts and ways than his expe

rience

Has given him power to teach: and then for courage And enterprise, what perils hath he shunned?

What obstacles hath he failed to overcome?

Answer these questions, from our common knowledge,

And be at rest.

Wil.

Mar.

Oh, Sir!

Peace, my good Wilfred;

Repair to Liddesdale, and tell the Band

I shall be with them in two days, at farthest.
Wil. May He whose eye is over all protect you.

[Exit.

Enter OSWALD (a bunch of plants in his hand.) Osa. This wood is rich in plants and curious

simples.

Mar. (looking at them.) The wild rose, and the

poppy, and the nightshade:

Which is your favorite, Oswald?

Osw.

Strong to destroy, is also strong to heal.

Not yet in sight!

That which, while it is

[Looking forward.

We'll saunter here awhile;

They cannot mount the hill, by us unseen.

Mar. (a letter in his hand.) It is no common thing when one like you

Performs these delicate services, and therefore
I feel myself much bounden to you, Oswald;
"T is a strange letter this! You saw her write it?
Osw. And saw the tears with which she blotted it.
Mar. And nothing less would satisfy him?
Osw.

No less ;

For that another in his Child's affection
Should hold a place, as if 't were robbery,
He seemed to quarrel with the very thought.
Besides, I know not what strange prejudice
Is rooted in his mind; this Band of ours,
Which you I've collected for the noblest ends,
Along the confines of the Esk and Tweed

To guard the Innocent, he calls us "Outlaws";

And, for yourself, in plain terms he asserts

This garb was taken up that indolence

Might want no cover, and rapacity

Be better fed.

Mar.

Ne'er may I own the heart

That cannot feel for one, helpless as he is.

Osw. Thou know'st me for a man not easily

moved,

Yet was I grievously provoked to think

Of what I witnessed.

Did not the Soldier tell thee that himself,

And others who survived the wreck, beheld
The Baron Herbert perish in the waves

Upon the coast of Cyprus?

Osw.

Yes, even so,

And I had heard the like before: in sooth,
The tale of this his quondam Barony

Is cunningly devised; and, on the back
Of his forlorn appearance, could not fail
To make the proud and vain his tributaries,
And stir the pulse of lazy charity.

The seignories of Herbert are in Devon;

We, neighbors of the Esk and Tweed: 't is much

The Arch-impostor

Mar.

Treat him gently, Oswald ;

Though I have never seen his face, methinks,

There cannot come a day when I shall cease
To love him. I remember, when a boy
Of scarcely seven years' growth, beneath the Elm
That casts its shade over our village school,
'T was my delight to sit and hear Idonea