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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 couch2 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! [Dies.

! 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.

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

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"Halidon Hill, we understand, unlike the earlier poems of its author, has not been received into the ranks of popular faSach rumours, of course, have no effect on our critical judgment; but we cannot forbear saying, that, thinking as we 8 "The character of Swinton is obviously a favourite with do very highly of the spirit and taste with which an interestthe author, to which circumstance we are probably indebted ing tale is here sketched in natural and energetic verse, we for the strong relief in which it is given, and the perfect veri- are yet far from feeling surprised that the approbation, which. similitude which belongs to it. The stately commanding figure it is our pleasing duty to bestow, should not have been anticiof 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 vene in truth, no great resemblance to the narrative poems from rable age, superior prowess, and intuitive decision;-the broils which Sir Walter Scott derived his first and high reputation, in which he had engaged, the misfortunes he had suffered, and and by which, for the present, his genius must be characterised. the intrepid fortitude with which he sustained them,-together It is wholly free from many of their most obvious faults-their with that rigorous control of temper, not to be shaken even by carelessness, their irregularity, and their inequality both of unmerited contumely and insult; these qualities, grouped conception and of execution; but it wants likewise no inconand embodied in one and the same character, render it morally siderable portion of their beauties-it has less 'pomp and cirimpossible that we should not at once sympathize and admire. cumstance,' less picturesque description, romantic association, The inherent force of his character is finely illustrated in the and chivalrous glitter, less sentiment and reflection, less pereffect produced upon Lord Gordon by the first appearance of haps of all their striking charms, with the single exception of the man who had made him fatherless.'"-Edinburgh Ma- that one redeeming and sufficing quality, which forms, in our gazine, July, 1822. 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 bo dizen 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 se lect 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 affecta. tion."—British Critic, October 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

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 ou, 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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They fell at strife,
Men say, on slight occasion: that fierce Lindesay
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 1 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 eminence,

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.

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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.

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WAL. How now, Sir Priest! (fiercely)-Forgive me (recollecting himself)—I was dreaming

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.

Of an old baron, who did bear about him
Some touch of your Lord Reynold.
NIN. Lindesay's name, my brother,

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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NIN. Even so; and I am near, should chance require me.

At midnight I relieve you on your watch,
When we may taste together some refreshment:
I have cared for it; and for a flask of wine-
There is no sin, so that we drink it not
Until the midnight hour, when lauds have toll'd.
Farewell a while, and peaceful watch be with you!
[Exit towards the Chapel.

WAL. It is not with me, and alas! alas!
I know not where to seek it. This monk's mind
Is with his cloister match'd, nor lacks more room.
Its petty duties, formal ritual,

Its humble pleasures and its paltry troubles,
Fill up his round of life; even as some reptiles,
They say, are moulded to the very shape,
And all the angles of the rocky crevice,

In which they live and die. But for myself,
Retired in passion to the narrow cell,
Couching my tired limbs in its recesses,
So ill-adapted am I to its limits,
That every attitude is agony.-
How now! what brings him back?

Re-enter NINIAN.

WAL. I'll not believe that ever the bold Thane Rear'd up his Cross to be a sanctuary

To the base coward, who shunn'd an equal combat.— How's this?-that look-that mien-mine eyes grow dizzy!

NIN. He comes!-thou art a novice on this watch,

Brother, I'll take the word and speak to him.
Pluck down thy cowl; know, that we spiritual cham-
pions

Have honour to maintain, and must not seem
To quail before the laity.

[WALDHAVE lets down his cowl, and steps
back.

Enter MAURICE BERKELEY.

NIN. Who art thou, stranger? speak thy name and

purpose.

BER. I claim the privilege of Clan MacDuff. My name is Maurice Berkeley, and my lineage Allies me nearly with the Thane of Fifo.

NIN. Give us to know the cause of sanctuary? BER. Let him show it, Against whose violence I claim the privilege.

Enter LINDESAY, with his sword drawn. He rushes at
BERKELEY; NINIAN interposcs.

NIN. Peace, in the name of Saint Magridius!
Peace, in our Prior's name, and in the name
Of that dear symbol, which did purchase peace
And good-will towards man! I do cominand thee
To sheath thy sword, and stir no contest here.
LIN. One charm I'll try first,

NIN. Look to your watch, my brother; horsemen To lure the craven from the enchanted circle

come:

I heard their tread when kneeling in the chapel. WAL. (looking to a distance.) My thoughts have rapt me more than thy devotion,

Else had I heard the tread of distant horses
Farther than thou couldst hear the sacring bell;
But now in truth they come: flight and pursuit
Are sights I've been long strange to.

NIN. See how they gallop down the opposing hill!

Yon grey steed bounding down the headlong path,
As on the level meadow; while the black,
Urged by the rider with his naked sword,
Stoops on his prey, as I have seen the falcon
Dashing upon the heron.-Thou dost frown
And clench thy hand, as if it grasp'd a weapon?
WAL. 'Tis but for shame to see a man fly thus
While only one pursues him. Coward, turn!—
Turn thee, I say! thou art as stout as he,
And well mayst match thy single sword with his-
Shame, that a man should rein a steed like thee,
Yet fear to turn his front against a foel-

I am ashamed to look on them.

NIN. Yet look again; thoy quit their horses now, Unfit for the rough path: the fugitivo

Keeps the advantago still.-They strain towards us.

Which he hath harbour'd in.-Hear you,Do Berkeley,
This is my brother's sword-the hand it arms
Is weapon'd to avenge a brother's death :-
If thou hast heart to step a furlong off,

And change three blows,-even for so short a space
As these good men may say an ave-marie,—
So, Heaven be good to me! I will forgive thco
Thy deed and all its consequences.

BER. Were not my right hand fetter'd by the thought

That slaying thee were but a double guilt
In which to steep my soul, no bridegroom ever
Stepp'd forth to trip a measure with his bride
Moro joyfully than I, young man, would rush
To meet thy challengo.

LIN. Ho quails, and shuns to look upon my weapon, Yet boasts himself a Berkeley!

BER. Lindesay, and if thero were no deeper cause For shunning thee than terror of thy weapon, That rock-hown Cross as soon should start and stir, Because a shepherd-boy blew horn beneath it, As I for brag of thine.

NIN. I charge you both, and in the name of Heaven, Breathe no defiance on this sacred spot, Where Christian men must bear them peacefully, On pain of the Church thunders. Calınly tell

Your cause of difference; and, Lord Lindesay, thou
Be first to speak them.

LIN. Ask the blue welkin-ask the silver Tay,
The northern Grampians-all things know my wrongs;
But ask not me to tell them, while the villain,
Who wrought them, stands and listens with a smile.
NIN. It is said-

Since you refer us thus to general fame

That Berkeley slew thy brother, the Lord Louis,
In his own halls at Edzell-

LIN. Ay, in his halls

In his own halls, good father, that's the word.
In his own halls he slew him, while the wine
Pass'd on the board between! The gallant Thane,
Who wreak'd Macbeth's inhospitable murder,
Rear'd not yon Cross to sanction deeds like these.
BER. Thou say'st I came a guest !-I came a vio
tim,

A destined victim, train'd on to the doom

His frantic jealousy prepared for me.
He fix'd a quarrel on me, and we fought.
Can I forget the form that came between us,
And perish'd by his sword? 'Twas then I fought
For vengeance,-until then I guarded life,
But then I sought to take it, and prevail'd.

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WAL. (rushing forward.) Madmen, stand!—
Stay but one second-answer but one question.-
There, Maurice Berkeley, can'st thou look upon
That blessed sign, and swear thou'st spoken truth?
BER. I swear by Heaven,

And by the memory of that murder'd innocent,
Each seeming charge against her was as false
As our bless'd Lady's spotless. Hear, each saint!
Hear me, thou holy rood! hear me from Heaven,
Thou martyr'd excellence!-Hear me from penal
fire,

LIN. Wretch! thou didst first dishonour to thy (For sure not yet thy guilt is expiated!)

victim,

And then didst slay him!

BER. There is a busy fiend tugs at my heart,
But I will struggle with it !-Youthful knight,
My heart is sick of war, my hand of slaughter;
I come not to my lordships, or my land,
But just to seek a spot in some cold cloister,
Which I may kneel on living, and, when dead,
Which may suffice to cover me.

Forgive me that I caused your brother's death;
And I forgive thee the injurious terms
With which thou taxest me.

Stern ghost of her destroyer!

WAL. (throws back his cowl.) He hears! he hears !
Thy spell hath raised the dead.
LIN. My brother! and alive!—

WAL. Alive, but yet, my Richard, dead to theo,
No tie of kindred binds me to the world;
All were renounced, when, with reviving life,
Came the desire to seek the sacred cloister.
Alas, in vain! for to that last retreat,
Like to a pack of bloodhounds in full chase,
My passion and my wrongs have follow'd me,
Wrath and remorse-and, to fill up the cry,

LIN. Take worse and blacker.-Murderer, adulte Thou hast brought vengeance hither.
rer!-

Art thou not moved yet?

BER.
Do not press me further.
The hunted stag, even when he seeks the thicket,
Compell'd to stand at bay, grows dangerous!
Most true thy brother perish'd by my hand,
And if you term it murder-I must bear it.
Thus far my patience can; but if thou brand
The purity of yonder martyr'd saint,
Whom then my sword but poorly did avenge,
With one injurious word, come to the valley,
And I will show thee how it shall be answer'd!
NIN. This heat, Lord Berkeley, doth but ill accord
With thy late pious patience.

BER. Father, forgive, and let me stand excused
To Heaven and thee, if patience brooks no more.

LIN.

To do the act and duty of a brother.

I but sought

WAL. I ceased to be so when I left the world; But if he can forgive as I forgive,

God sends me here a brother in mine enemy,
To pray for me and with me. If thou canst,
De Berkeley, give thine hand.-

BER. (gives his hand.)
It is the will
Of Heaven, made manifest in thy preservation,
To inhibit farther bloodshed; for De Berkeley,
The votary Maurice lays the title down.

Go to his halls, Lord Richard, where a maiden,
Kin to his blood, and daughter in affection,

Heirs his broad lands;-If thou canst love her, Linde

say,

Woo her, and be successful.

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