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GOR. Must I then speak of her to you, Sir Alan?
The thought of thee, and of thy matchless strength,
Hath conjured phantoms up amongst her dreams.
The name of Swinton hath been spell sufficient
To chase the rich blood from her lovely cheek,
And wouldst thou now know hers?
SWI.

GOR. I penetrate thy purpose; but I go not.
SwI. Not at my bidding? I, thy sire in chivalry—
Thy leader in the battle?—I command thee.

GOR. No, thou wilt not command me seek my
safety,-

For such is thy kind meaning-at the expense

I would, nay must. Of the last hope which Heaven reserves for Scotland.
While I abide, no follower of mine

Thy father in the paths of chivalry,
Should know the load-star thou dost rule thy course Will turn his rein for life; but were I gone,

by.

GOR. Nay, then, her name is-hark

[Whispers.

Swi. I know it well, that ancient northern house.
GOR. O, thou shalt see its fairest grace and honour
In my Elizabeth. And if music touch thee-

Swi. It did, before disasters had untuned me.
GOR. O, her notes

Shall hush each sad remembrance to oblivion,
Or melt them to such gentleness of feeling,
That grief shall have its sweetness. Who, but she,
Knows the wild harpings of our native land?
Whether they lull the shepherd on his hill,

Or wake the knight to battle; rouse to merriment,
Or soothe to sadness; she can touch each mood.
Princes and statesmen, chiefs renown'd in arms,
And grey-hair'd bards, contend which shall the first
And choicest homage render to the enchantress.
SwI. You speak her talent bravely.
GOR.

What power can stay them? and, our band dispersed,
What swords shall for an instant stem yon host,
And save the latest chance for victory?

VIP. The noble youth speaks truth; and were he

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And am I forced to yield the sad consent,
Devoting thy young life? O, Gordon, Gordon !

I do it as the patriarch doom'd his issue;

I at my country's, he at Heaven's command;
But I seek vainly some atoning sacrifice,2

Though you smile, Rather than such a victim!-(Trumpets.) Hark,

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VIP. From the main English host come rushing Art thou dismounted too?
forward

Pennons enow-ay, and their Royal Standard.
But ours stand rooted, as for crows to roost on.
SwI. (to himself) I'll rescue him at least.-Young
Lord of Gordon,

Spur to the Regent-show the instant need

1 MS.-"And am I'doom'd to yield the sad consent That thus devotes thy life?'

Нов.

Ha, thou knave,

I know, Sir Alan,
You want no homeward guide; so threw my reins
Upon my palfrey's neck, and let him loose.
Within an hour he stands before my gate;
And Magdalen will need no other token
To bid the Melrose Monks say masses for me.

2 MS. "O, could there be some lesser sacrifice."

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SwI. My lamp hath long been dim! But thine, O linger not !-1 'll be your guide to them.

young Gordon,

Just kindled, to be quench'd so suddenly,

Ere Scotland saw its splendour !

GOR. Five thousand horse hung idly on yon hill, Saw us o'erpower'd, and no one stirr'd to aid us! SwI. It was the Regent's envy.-Out !-alas! Why blame I him!-It was our civil discord, Our selfish vanity, our jealous hatred, Which framed this day of dole for our poor country.— Had thy brave father held yon leading staff, As well his rank and valour might have claim'd it, We had not fall'n unaided.-How, O how Is he to answer it, whose deed prevented

GOR. Alas! alas! the author of the death-feud, He has his reckoning too! for had your sons And num'rous vassals lived, we had lack'd no aid. SwI. May God assoil the dead, and him who follows!

We've drank the poison'd beverage which we brew'd: Have sown the wind, and reap'd the tenfold whirlwind!

But thou, brave youth, whose nobleness of heart
Pour'd oil upon the wounds our hate inflicted;
Thou, who hast done no wrong, need'st no forgive-

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GOR. Look there, and bid me fly!-The oak bas fall'n;

And the young ivy bush, which learn'd to climb

By its support, must needs partake its fall.

VIP. Swinton? Alas! the best, the bravest, strongest, And sagest of our Scottish chivalry! Forgive one moment, if to save the living,

My tongue should wrong the dead.-Gordon, bethink thee,

Thou dost but stay to perish with the corpse
Of him who slew thy father.

2

GOR. Ay, but he was my sire in chivalry. He taught my youth to soar above the promptings Of mean and selfish vengeance; gave my youth A name that shall not die even on this death-spot. Records shall tell this field had not been lost, Had all men fought like Swinton and like Gordon. [Trumpets.

Save thee, De Vipont.-Hark! the Southron trumpets.

VIP. Nay, without thee I stir not.

Enter EDWARD, CHANDOS, PERCY, BALIOL, &c. GOR. Ay, they come on-the Tyrant and the Traitor, Workman and tool, Plantagenet and Baliol. O for a moment's strength in this poor arm, To do one glorious deed!

[He rushes on the English, but is made prisoner with VIPONT.

K. ED. Disarm them-harm them not; though it was they

Made havoc on the archers of our vanguard,
They and that bulky champion. Where is he?
CHAN. Here lies the giant! Say his name, young
Knight?

1 This speech of Swinton's is interpolated on the blank 2 MS." Thou hast small cause to tarry with the corpse." page of the manuscript.

GOR. Let it suffice, he was a man this morning.'
CHA. I question'd thee in sport. I do not need
Thy information, youth. Who that has fought
Through all these Scottish wars, but knows his crest,
The sable boar chain'd to the leafy oak,

And that huge mace still seen where war was wildest!
KING ED. 'Tis Alan Swinton !

Grim chamberlain, who in my tent at Weardale,
Stood by my startled couch with torch and mace,
When the Black Douglas' war-cry waked my camp.
GOR. (sinking down.) If thus thou know'st him,
Thou wilt respect his corpse.3

K. ED. As belted Knight and crowned King, I will.
GOR. And let mine

Sleep at his side, in token that our death

Ended the feud of Swinton and of Gordon.

K. ED. It is the Gordon !--Is there aught beside Edward can do to honour bravery,

Even in an enemy?

GOR. Nothing but this:

Let not base Baliol, with his touch or look, [still,
Profane my corpse or Swinton's. I've some breath
Enough to say-Scotland-Elizabeth!

CHA. Baliol, I would not brook such dying looks, To buy the crown you aim at.

K. ED. (to VIP.) Vipont, thy crossed shield shows ill in warfare

Against a Christian king.

VIP. That Christian King is warring upon Scotland.
I was a Scotsman ere I was a Templar,
Sworn to my country ere I knew my Order.

K. ED. I will but know thee as a Christian cham-
pion,

And set thee free unransom'd.

Enter ABBOT OF WALTHAMSTOW.
AB. Heaven grant your Majesty
Many such glorious days as this has been!

K. ED. It is a day of much and high advantage;
Glorious it might have been, had all our foes
Fought like these two brave champions.-Strike the
drums,

Sound trumpets, and pursue the fugitives,

Till the Tweed's eddies whelm them. Berwick 's render'd

| [Dies. These wars, I trust, will soon find lasting close."

1 In his narrative of events on the day after the battle of Sheriffmuir, Sir Walter Scott says, "Amongst the gentlemen who fell on this occasion, were several on both sides, alike eminent for birth and character. The body of the gallant young Earl of Strathmore was found on the field watched by a faithful old domestic, who, being asked the name of the person whose body he waited upon with so much care, made this striking reply, 'He was a man yesterday.'' .'"'— Tales of a Grandfather.

2 MS.-"Stood arm'd beside my couch," &c.

Edward, in whom any interest is endeavoured to be excited. With some exceptions, the dialogue also is flat and coarse ; and for all these defects, one or two vigorous descriptions of battle scenes, will scarcely make sufficient atonement, except in the eyes of very enthusiastic friends."-Monthly Review.

"Halidon Hill, we understand, unlike the earlier poems of its author, has not been received into the ranks of popular favour. Such rumours, of course, have no effect on our critical judgment; but we cannot forbear saying, that, thinking as we do very highly of the spirit and taste with which an interesting tale is here sketched in natural and energetic verse, we are yet far from feeling surprised that the approbation, which it is our pleasing duty to bestow, should not have been antici

3 "The character of Swinton is obviously a favourite with the author, to which circumstance we are probably indebted for the strong relief in which it is given, and the perfect verisimilitude which belongs to it. The stately commanding figure of the veteran warrior, whom, by the illusion of his art, the au-pated by the ordinary readers of the work before us. It bears, thor has placed in veritable presentment before us;-his venerable age, superior prowess, and intuitive decision;-the broils in which he had engaged, the misfortunes he had suffered, and the intrepid fortitude with which he sustained them,-together with that rigorous control of temper, not to be shaken even by unmerited contumely and insult ;-these qualities, grouped and embodied in one and the same character, render it morally impossible that we should not at once sympathize and admire. The inherent force of his character is finely illustrated in the effect produced upon Lord Gordon by the first appearance of the man who had made him fatherless.'"-Edinburgh Magazine, July, 1822.

4 A Venetian General, observing his soldiers testified some unwillingness to fight against those of the Pope, whom they regarded as father of the Church, addressed them in terms of similar encouragement,-" Fight on! we were Venetians before we were Christians."

"It is generally the case that much expectation ends in disappointment. The free delineation of character in some of the recent Scottish Novels, and the admirable conversations interspersed throughout them, raised hopes that, when a regular drama should be attempted by the person who was considered as their author, the success would be eminent. Its announcement, too, in a solemn and formal manner, did not diminish the interest of the public. The drama, however, which was expected, turns out to be in fact, and not only in name, merely a dramatic sketch, which is entirely deficient in plot, and contains but three characters, Swinton, Gordon, and

in truth, no great resemblance to the narrative poems from which Sir Walter Scott derived his first and high reputation, and by which, for the present, his genius must be characterised. It is wholly free from many of their most obvious faults-their carelessness, their irregularity, and their inequality both of conception and of execution; but it wants likewise no inconsiderable portion of their beauties-it has less 'pomp and circumstance,' less picturesque description, romantic association, and chivalrous glitter, less sentiment and reflection, less perhaps of all their striking charms, with the single exception of that one redeeming and sufficing quality, which forms, in our view, the highest recommendation of all the author's works of imagination, their unaffected and unflagging VIGOUR. This perhaps, after all, is only saying, that we have before us a dramatic poem, instead of a metrical tale of romance, and that the author has had too much taste and discretion to bedizen his scenes with inappropriate and encumbering ornament. There is, however, a class of readers of poetry, and a pretty large class, too, who have no relish for a work, however naturally and strongly the characters and incidents may be conceived and sustained-however appropriate and manly may be the imagery and diction-from which they cannot sclect any isolated passages to store in their memories or their commonplace books, to whisper into a lady's ear, or transcribe into a lady's album. With this tea-table and watering-place school of critics, 'Halidon Hill' must expect no favour; it has no rant-no mysticism-and, worst offence of all, no affectation."-British Critic, October 1822.

MacDuff's Cross.

INTRODUCTION.

THESE few scenes had the honour to be included in a Miscellany, published in the year 1823, by Mrs. Joanna Baillie, and are here reprinted, to unite them with the trifles of the same kind which owe their birth to the author. The singular history of the Cross and Law of Clan MacDuff is given, at length enough to satisfy the keenest antiquary, in The Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border. It is here only necessary to state, that the Cross was a place of refuge to any person related to MacDuff, within the ninth degree, who, having committed homicide in sudden quarrel, should reach this place, prove his descent from the Thane of Fife, and pay a certain penalty.

The shaft of the Cross was destroyed at the Reformation. The huge block of stone which served for its pedestal is still in existence near the town of Newburgh, on a kind of pass which commands the county of Fife to the southward, and to the north, the windings of the magnificent Tay and fertile country of Angus-shire. The Cross bore an inscription, which is transmitted to us in an unintelligible form by Sir Robert Sibbald.

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Some touch of strange enchantment.-Mark that

fragment,

I mean that rough-hewn block of massive stone,
Placed on the summit of this mountain-pass,
Commanding prospect wide o'er field and fell,
And peopled village and extended moorland,
And the wide ocean and majestic Tay,
To the far distant Grampians.-Do not deem it
A loosen'd portion of the neighbouring rock,
Detach'd by storm and thunder,-'t was the pedestal
On which, in ancient times, a Cross was rear'd,
Carved o'er with words which foil'd philologists;
And the events it did commemorate
Were dark, remote, and undistinguishable,
As were the mystic characters it bore.
But, mark, a wizard, born on Avon's bank,
Tuned but his harp to this wild northern theme,
And, lo! the scene is hallow'd. None shall pass,
Now, or in after days, beside that stone,
But he shall have strange visions; thoughts and words,
That shake, or rouse, or thrill the human heart,
Shall rush upon his memory when he hears
The spirit-stirring name of this rude symbol ;—
Oblivious ages, at that simple spell,

Shall render back their terrors with their woes,
Alas! and with their crimes-and the proud phantoms
Shall move with step familiar to his eye,

And accents which, once heard, the ear forgets not,
Though ne'er again to list them. Siddons, thine,
Thou matchless Siddons! thrill upon our ear;
And on our eye thy lofty Brother's form
Rises as Scotland's monarch.-But, to thee,
Joanna, why to thee speak of such visions?
Thine own wild wand can raise them.

Yet since thou wilt an idle tale of mine, Take one which scarcely is of worth enough To give or to withhold. Our time creeps on, Fancy grows colder as the silvery hair Tells the advancing winter of our life. But if it be of worth enough to please, That worth it owes to her who set the task; If otherwise, the fault rests with the author.

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ment; and, at a small distance, on one side, a Chapel, with a Lamp burning.

Enter, as having ascended the Pass, NINIAN and WALDHAVE, Monks of Lindores. NINIAN crosses himself, and seems to recite his devotions. WALDHAVE stands gazing on the prospect, as if in deep contemplation.

NIN.
They fell at strife,
Men say, on slight occasion: that fierce Lindeзay
Did bend his sword against De Berkeley's breast,
And that the lady threw herself between:
That then De Berkeley dealt the Baron's death-
wound.

Enough, that from that time De Berkeley bore
A spear in foreign wars. But, it is said,

NIN. Here stands the Cross, good brother, conse- He hath return'd of late; and, therefore, brother, crated

By the bold Thane unto his patron saint
Magridius, once a brother of our house.
Canst thou not spare an ave or a creed?
Or hath the steep ascent exhausted you?
You trode it stoutly, though 't was rough and toil-
WAL. I have trode a rougher.
NIN.

Scarcely within our sea-girt province here,
Unless upon the Lomonds or Bennarty.

[some.

WAL. I spoke not of the literal path, good father,
But of the road of life which I have travell❜d,
Ere I assumed this habit; it was bounded,
Hedged in, and limited by earthly prospects,
As ours beneath was closed by dell and thicket.
Here we see wide and far, and the broad sky,
With wide horizon, opens full around,
While earthly objects dwindle. Brother Ninian,
Fain would I hope that mental elevation
Could raise me equally o'er worldly thoughts,
And place me nearer heaven.

The Prior hath ordain'd our vigil here,
To watch the privilege of the sanctuary,
And rights of Clan MacDuff.

WAL.

What rights are these? NIN. Most true! you are but newly come from

Rome,

And do not know our ancient usages.

On the Highland hills Know then, when fell Macbeth beneath the arm
Of the predestined knight, unborn of woman,
Three boons the victor ask'd, and thrice did Malcolm,
Stooping the sceptre by the Thane restored,
Assent to his request. And hence the rule,
That first when Scotland's King assumes the crown,
MacDuff's descendant rings his brow with it:
And hence, when Scotland's King calls forth his host,
MacDuff's descendant leads the van in battle:
And last, in guerdon of the crown restored,
Red with the blood of the usurping tyrant,
The right was granted in succeeding time,
That if a kinsman of the Thane of Fife
Commit a slaughter on a sudden impulse,
And fly for refuge to this Cross MacDuff,
For the Thane's sake he shall find sanctuary;
For here must the avenger's step be staid,
And here the panting homicide find safety.
WAL. And here a brother of your order watches,

NIN. 'Tis good morality.-But yet forget not,
That though we look on heaven from this high emi-

nence,

Yet doth the Prince of all the airy space,

Arch foe of man, possess the realms between.

WAL. Most true, good brother; and men may be To see the custom of the place observed ? farther

From the bright heaven they aim at, even because

They deem themselves secure on 't.

NIN. (after a pause.)
You do gaze
Strangers are wont to do so-on the prospect.
Yon is the Tay roll'd down from Highland hills,
That rests his waves, after so rude a race,
In the fair plains of Gowrie-further westward,
Proud Stirling rises-yonder to the east,
Dundee, the gift of God, and fair Montrose,

And still more northward lie the ancient towers-
WAL. Of Edzell.

NIN.

NIN. Even so;-such is our convent's holy right,
Since Saint Magridius-blessed be his memory !-
Did by a vision warn the Abbot Eadmir.-
And chief we watch, when there is bickering
Among the neighbouring nobles, now most likely
From this return of Berkeley from abroad,
Having the Lindesay's blood upon his hand.
WAL. The Lindesay, then, was loved among his
friends?
[loved;

NIN. Honour'd and fear'd he was -- but little
For even his bounty bore a show of sternness;
And when his passions waked, he was a Sathan

WAL. How now, Sir Priest! (fiercely)-Forgive me
(recollecting himself)—I was dreaming
Of an old baron, who did bear about him
Some touch of your Lord Reynold.
NIN. Lindesay's name, my brother,

How? know you the towers of Edzell? Of wrath and injury.
WAL. I've heard of them.
NIN.
Then have you heard a tale,
Which when he tells, the peasant shakes his head,
And shuns the mouldering and deserted walls.
WAL. Why, and by whom, deserted?
NIN.

Long the tale Indeed was Reynold;-and methinks, moreover,
That, as you spoke even now, he would have spoken.
I brought him a petition from our convent:
He granted straight, but in such tone and manner,
By my good saint! I thought myself scarce safe
Till Tay roll'd broad between us. I must now

Enough to say that the last Lord of Edzell,
Bold Louis Lindesay, had a wife, and found-
WAL. Enough is said, indeed-since a weak woman,
Ay, and a tempting fiend, lost Paradise,
When man was innocent.

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