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Take then this key, and wait the event with courage.
[He drops the key.—He disappears gradually
-the moonlight failing at the same time.
KAT. (after a pause.) Whate'er it was, 'tis gone!
My head turns round-

The blood that lately fortified my heart
Now eddies in full torrent to my brain,

And makes wild work with reason. I will haste,
If that my steps can bear me so far safe,
To living company. What if I meet it
Again in the long aisle, or vaulted passage
And if I do, the strong support that bore me
Through this appalling interview, again
Shall strengthen and uphold me.

[As she steps forward she stumbles over the key.
What's this? The key ?-there may be mystery in 't.
I'll to my kinswoman, when this dizzy fit
Will give me leave to choose my way aright.

[She sits down exhausted.

Re-enter BLACKTHORN, with a drawn sword and torch. BLA. Katleen! What, Katleen!-What a wretch was I

To leave her!-Katleen,-I am weapon'd now,
And fear nor dog nor devil.-She replies not!
Beast that I was-nay, worse than beast; the stag,
As timorous as he is, fights for his hind.

What's to be done?—I'll search this cursed castle
From dungeon to the battlements; if I find her not,
I'll fling me from the highest pinnacle-

KATLEEN (who has somewhat gathered her spirits, in consequence of his entrance, comes behind and touches him; he starts.) Brave sir!

I'll spare you that rash leap-You 're a bold woodsman!

Surely I hope that from this night henceforward
You'll never kill a hare, since you 're akin to them;
OI could laugh-but that my head 's so dizzy.
BLA. Lean on me, Katleen-By my honest word,
I thought you close behind-I was surprised,
Not a jot frighten'd.

KAT. Thou art a fool to ask me to thy cottage,
And then to show me at what slight expense
Of manhood I might master thee and it.

BLA. I'll take the risk of that-This goblin business
Came rather unexpected; the best horse
Will start at sudden sights. Try me again,
And if I prove not true to bonny Katleen,
Hang me in mine own bowstring.

SCENE IV.

[Exeunt.

The Scone returns to the Apartment at the beginning of

Act Second. OSWALD and DURWARD are discovered with ELEANOR, FLORA, and LEONARD-DURWARD shuts a Prayer-book, which he seems to have been reading.

DUR. "Tis true-the difference betwixt the churches, Which zealots love to dwell on, to the wise

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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!"

LEO. The fool 's bewitch'd-the goblin hath fur. nish'd him

A cap which well befits his reverend wisdom.

FLO. If I could think he had lost his slender wits,

I should be sorry for the trick they play'd him.
LEO. O fear him not; it were a foul reflection
On any fiend of sense and reputation,
To filch such petty wares as his poor brains.
DUR. What saw'st thou, sir? What heard'st thou !
GUL. What was't I saw and heard?

That which old greybeards,

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.

But as the soldier, sieeping in the trench,
I had reposed me after some brief study;
Keeps sword and musket by him, so I had
My little Hebrew manual prompt for service.

FLO. Sausagian sows'd-face; that much of your He brew

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.

Usw. These must be revellers belated-
Let them pass on; the ruin'd halls of Devorgoil
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

Is hovering on the drawbridge-far apart
Flit through the tempest banners, horse, and riders,
In darkness lost, or dimly seen by lightning.-
Hither the figure moves the bolts revolve—
The gate uncloses to him.

ELE.

Heaven protect us!

The PALMER enters-GULLCRAMMER runs off. Osw. Whence and what art thou? for what end come hither?

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

DUR. Lord Oswald, thou art tempted by a fiend,
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
Of such a wasted woe-worn wretch as I am,
Can save him from the abyss of misery,
Upon whose verge he's tottering, let me wander
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

PAL. I come from a far land, where the storm Have knit together, close as summer saplings

howls not,

And the sun sets not, to pronounce to thee,

Oswald of Devorgoil, thy house's fate.

Are twined in union by the eddying tempest.—
Spirit of Erick, while thou bear'st his shape,
I'll answer with no ruder conjuration

DUR. I charge thee, in the name we late have Thy impious counsel, other than with these words,

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

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

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

Depart, and tempt me not!

ERI. Then fate will have her course.-Fall, mas

sive grate,

Yield them the tempting view of these rich treasures,
But bar them from possession?

[A portcullis falls before the door of the Trea-
sure-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;

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

And not nis hand prevaiis witnout 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 Leonard,
And prove the adventure.

LEO. (advances and attempts the grate.) It is fast

As is the tower, rock-seated.

KAT. (giving the key. Here, prove this;
A chance most strange and fearful gave it me.
Osw. (puts it into the lock, and attempts to turn it—a
loud clap of thunder.)

FLO. The lake still rises faster.-Leonard, Leonard,
Canst thou not save us!

[LEONARD tries the lock-it opens with a violent
noise, and the Portcullis rises. A loud strain
of wild music.-There may be a Chorus here.
[OSWALD enters the apartment, and brings out
a scroll.

LEO. The lake is ebbing with as wondrous haste
As late it rose-the drawbridge is left dry!
Osw. This may explain the cause.-
(GULLCRAMMER offers to take it.) But soft you, sir,

Osw. We will fetch other means, and prove its We'll not disturb your learning for the matter;

strength,

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Haste, save yourselves-the lake is rising fast.'
BLA. 'T has risen my bow's height in the last five
minutes,

And still is swelling strangely.

GUL. (who has stood astonished upon seeing them.)
We shall be drown'd without your kind assistance.
Sweet Master Owlspiegle, your dragonfly—
Your straw, your bean-stalk, gentle Cockle❜moy!
LEO. (looking from the shot-hole. 'Tis true, by all
that 's fearful! The proud lake

Peers, like ambitious tyrant, o'er his bounds,

And soon will whelm the castle-even the draw

bridge

Is under water now.

KAT. Let us escape! Why stand you gazing there?
DUR. Upon the opening of that fatal grate
Depends the fearful spell that now entraps us,
The key of Black Lord Erick-ere we find it,
The castle will be whelm'd beneath the waves,
And we shall perish in it!

1 If it could be managed to render the rising of the lake visible, it would answer well for a coup-de-théâtre.

MS." The storms of angry Fate are part

Yet, since you've borne a part in this strange drama,
You shall not go unguerdon'd. Wise or learn'd,
Modest or gentle, Heaven alone can make thee,
Being so much otherwise; but from this abundance
Thou shalt have that shall gild thine ignorance,
Exalt thy base descent, make thy presumption
Seem modest confidence, and find thee hundreds
Ready to swear that same fool's-cap of thine
Is reverend as a mitre.

GUL. Thanks, mighty baron, now no more a bare
one!-

I will be quaint with him, for all his quips. [Aside.
Osw. Nor shall kind Katleen lack

Her portion in our happiness.

KAT. Thanks, my good lord, but Katleen's fate is fix'd

There is a certain valiant forester,

Too much afear'd of ghosts to sleep anights

In his lone cottage, without one to guard him.—
LEO. If I forget my comrade's faithful friendship,
May I be lost to fortune, hope, and love!

DUR. Peace, all! and hear the blessing which thir
scroll

Speaks unto faith, and constancy, and virtue.

No more this castle's troubled guest,
Dark Erick's spirit hath found rest.
The storms of angry Fate are past—
For Constancy defies their blast.
Of Devorgoil the daughter free
Shall wed the Heir of Aglionby:
Nor ever more dishonour soil
The rescued house of Devorgoil!"

Constancy abides their blast.
Of Devorgoil the daughter fair
Shall wed with Dacre's injured Let: ;
The silver moon of Devorgoil.'

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PREFACE.

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-enforced, laws termed the heathenish and accursed practice of Deadly 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 ambition, the frenzy 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 observations we proceed to our story.

Mammon led them on: Mammon, the least erected spirit that fell From Heaven."-MILTON.

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 unconscientious,-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 daughter 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 conrt Saint Kennedie."

Now, Mure of Auchindrane, who had promised himself high advancement by means of his father-inlaw 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 Cullayne 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 Auchin drane 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.

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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 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.

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 hot-headed 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 precipitate 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 quarrel, considering his connexion with Auchindrane as too intimate to be broken even by his desire to assist his nephew.

For this temperate and honourable 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 inno

cent of contributing to either. Chance favoured 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 despatched 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 induced to undertake the crime. They waylaid the unsuspecting Sir Thomas of Cullayne at the place appointed 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 plun dered 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 jewels.'

"No papers which have hitherto been discovered appear to afford so striking a picture of the savage state of barbarism into which that country must have sunk, as the following Bond by the Earl of Cassilis, to his brother and heir-apparent, Hew, Master of Cassilis. The uncle of these young men, Sir Thomas Kennedy of Culzean, tutor of Cassilis, as the reader will recollect, was murdered, May 11th, 1602, by Auchindrane's accomplices.

"The Master of Cassilis, for many years previous to that event, was in open hostility to his brother. During all that period, however, the Master maintained habits of the closest intimacy with Auchindrane and his dissolute associates, and actually joined him in various hostile enterprises against his brother the Earl. The occurrence of the Laird of Culzean's murder was embraced by their mutual friends, as a fitting opportunity to effect a permanent reconciliation between the brothers;

bot,' (as the Historie of the Kennedies,' p. 59, quaintly informs us,) the cuntry thocht that he wald not be eirnest in that cause, for the auld luiff betuix him and Auchindrayne.' The unprincipled Earl, (whose sobriquet, and that of some of his ancestors, was King of Carrick, to denote the boundless sway which he exercised over his own vassals and the inhabitants of that district,) relying on his brother's necessities, held out the infamous bribe contained in the following bond, to induce his brother, the Master of Cassilis, to murder his former friend, the old Laird of Auchindrane. Though there be ho nour among thieves, it would seem that there is none among assassins; for the younger brother insisted upon having the price of blood assured to him by a written document, drawn up in the form of a regular bond!

"Judging by the Earl's former and subsequent history, he probably thought that, in either event, his purposes would be

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