LXXII.

Confirmed of purpose, fearlessly prepared

For act and suffering, to the city straight
He journeyed, and forthwith his crime declared:
"And from your doom," he added, "now I wait,
Nor let it linger long, the murderer's fate."
Not ineffectual was that piteous claim:

"O welcome sentence which will end, though late,' He said, "the pangs that to my conscience came Out of that deed. My trust, Saviour! is in thy name!"

LXXIV.

His fate was pitied. Him in iron case
(Reader, forgive the intolerable thought)
They hung not: -no one on his form or face
Could gaze, as on a show by idlers sought;
No kindred sufferer, to his death-place brought
By lawless curiosity or chance,

When into storms the evening sky is wrought,
Upon his swinging corse an eye can glance,
And drop, as he once dropped, in miserable trance.

1793-4.

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, then a voyager

Upon the midland Sea.

In Palestine?

Lacy.

You knew his bearing

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

Mar.

Your busy fancies, Wilfred,

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

I know it Pardon me,

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.) Osw. 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.—

That which, while it is

[Looking forward.

Not yet in sight! - 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;
'Tis 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.