VIP. No farther, Father-here I need no guidance I have already brought your peaceful step Too near the verge of battle.
PRI. Fain would I see you join some Baron's banner, Before I say farewell. The honour'd sword That fought so well in Syria, should not wave Amid the ignoble crowd.
VIP. Each spot is noble in a pitched field,
So that a man has room to fight and fall on't.
My prayer shall be, that Heaven will close my eyes, Before they look upon the wrath to come.
VIP. Retire, retire, good Father!-Pray for Scotland
Think not on me. Here comes an ancient friend,
Brother in arms, with whom to-day I'll join me.
Back to your choir, assemble all your brotherhood,
And weary Heaven with prayers for victory.3
PRI. Heaven's blessing rest with thee,
Champion of Heaven, and of thy suffering country!
[Exit PRIOR. VIPONT draws a little aside and
lets down the beaver of his helmet.
But I shall find out friends. 'Tis scarce twelve years Enter SWINTON, followed by REYNALD and others, to
Since I left Scotland for the wars of Palestine,
And then the flower of all the Scottish nobles
Were known to me; and I, in my degree,
Not all unknown to them.
PRI. Alas! there have been changes since that time! The Royal Bruce, with Randolph, Douglas, Grahame, Then shook in field the banners which now moulder Over their graves i' the chancel.
VIP. And thence comes it, That while I look'd on many a well-known crest And blazon'd shield,' as hitherward we came, The faces of the Barons who displayed them Were all unknown to me. Brave youths they seem'd ; Yet, surely, fitter to adorn the tilt-yard, Than to be leaders of a war. Their followers, Young like themselves, seem like themselves unpractised
Look at their battle-rank.
1 MS.-"I've look'd on many a well-known pennon Playing the air," &c.
whom he speaks as he enters.
Swi. Halt here, and plant my pennon, till the Regent
Assign our band its station in the host.
REY. That must be by the Standard. We have had
That right since good Saint David's reign at least.
Fain would I see the Marcher would dispute it.
SWI. Peace, Reynald! Where the general plants
the soldier,
There is his place of honour, and there only
His valour can win worship. Thou'rt of those,
Who would have war's deep art bear the wild sem-
blance
Of some disorder'd hunting, where, pell-mell,
Each trusting to the swiftness of his horse,
Gallants press on to see the quarry fall.
Yon steel-clad Southrons, Reynald, are no deer;
And England's Edward is no stag at bay.
2 MS." The youths who hold," &c., " are."
3 MS.—————" with prayers for Scotland's weal.”
VIP. (advancing.) There needed not, to blazon forth Only a sapling, which the fawn may crush
His ancient burgonet, the sable Boar
Chain'd to the gnarl'd oak,'-
-nor his proud step,
Nor giant stature, nor the ponderous mace,
Which only he, of Scotland's realm, can wield:
His discipline and wisdom mark the leader,
As doth his frame the champion. Hail, brave Swinton:
Swi. Brave Templar, thanks! Such your cross'd
shoulder speaks you;
But the closed visor, which conceals your features,
Forbids more knowledge. Umfraville, perhaps
As he springs over it.
VIP. All slain ?-alas!
Swi. Ay, all, De Vipont. And their attributes,
John with the Long Spear-Archibald with the Axe-
Richard the Ready-and my youngest darling,
My Fair-hair'd William-do but now survive
In measures which the grey-hair'd minstrels sing,
When they make maidens weep.
VIP. These wars with England, they have rooted out
The flowers of Christendom. Knights, who might win
The sepulchre of Christ from the rude heathen,
VIP. (unclosing his helmet.) No; one less worthy of Fall in unholy warfare!
our sacred Order.
Yet, unless Syrian suns have scorch'd my features
Swart as my sable visor, Alan Swinton
Will welcome Symon Vipont.
SwI. (embracing him.) As the blithe reaper
Welcomes a practised mate, when the ripe harvest
Lies deep before him, and the sun is high!
Thou 'It follow yon old pennon, wilt thou not?
'Tis tatter'd since thou saw'st it, and the Boar-heads
Look as if brought from off some Christmas board,
Where knives had notch'd them deeply.
VIP. Have with them, ne'ertheless. The Stuart's
Chequer,
The Bloody Heart of Douglas, Ross's Lymphads,
Sutherland's Wild-cats, nor the royal Lion,
Rampant in golden treasure, wins me from them.
We'll back the Boar-heads bravely. I see round them
A chosen band of lances-some well known to me.
Where's the main body of thy followers?
SwI. Symon de Vipont, thou dost see them all
That Swinton's bugle-horn can call to battle,
However loud it rings. There's not a boy
Left in my halls, whose arm has strength enough
To bear a sword-there 's not a man behind,
However old, who moves without a staff.
Striplings and greybeards, every one is here,
And here all should be-Scotland needs them all;
And more and better men, were each a Hercules,
And yonder handful centuplied.
Swi. Unholy warfare? ay, well hast thou named it;
But not with England-would her cloth-yard shafts
Had bored their cuirasses! Their lives had been
Lost like their grandsire's, in the bold defence
Of their dear country 2-but in private feud
With the proud Gordon, fell my Long-spear'd John,
He with the Axe, and he men call'd the Ready,
Ay, and my Fair-hair'd Will-the Gordon's wrath
Devour'd my gallant issue.
VIP. Since thou dost weep, their death is un-
avenged?
Swi. Templar, what think'st thou me?-See yonder
rock,
From which the fountain gushes-is it less
Compact of adamant, though waters flow from it?
Firm hearts have moister eyes.-They are avenged;
I wept not till they were-till the proud Gordon
Had with his life-blood dyed my father's sword,
In guerdon that he thinn'd my father's lineage,
And then I wept my sons; and, as the Gordon
Lay at my feet, there was a tear for him,
Which mingled with the rest. We had been friends,
Had shared the banquet and the chase together,
Fought side by side,-and our first cause of strife,
Woe to the pride of both, was but a light one!
VIP. You are at feud, then, with the mighty Gor-
don?
Swi. At deadly feud. Here in this Border-land, Where the sire's quarrels descend upon the son,
VIP. A thousand followers-such, with friends and As due a part of his inheritance,
Allies and vassals, thou wert wont to lead
A thousand followers shrunk to sixty lances
As the strong castle and the ancient blazon,
Where private Vengeance holds the scales of justice,
Weighing each drop of blood as scrupulously
In twelve years' space?-And thy brave sons, Sir As Jews or Lombards balance silver pence,
He hath had grants of baronies and lordships
In the far-distant North. A thousand horse
His southern friends and vassals always number'd.
Add Badenoch kerne, and horse from Dey and Spey,
He'll count a thousand more. And now, De Vipont,
If the Boar-heads seem in your eyes less worthy
For lack of followers-seek yonder standard—
The bounding Stag, with a brave host around it;
There the young Gordon makes his earliest field,
And pants to win his spurs. His father's friend,
As well as mine, thou wert-go, join his pennon,
And grace him with thy presence.
[To REYNALD.] Hold thou my casque, and furl my
Close to the staff. I will not show my crest,
Nor standard, till the common foe shall challenge
them.
I'll wake no civil strife, nor tempt the Gordon
With aught that 's like defiance.
VIP. Will he not know your features?
Swi. He never saw me. In the distant North, Against his will, 'tis said, his friends detain'd him During his nurture-caring not, belike,
To trust a pledge so precious near the Boar-tusks.
VIP. When you were friends, I was the friend of It was a natural but needless caution: both,
And now I can be enemy to neither;
But my poor person, though but slight the aid,
Joins on this field the banner of the two
Which hath the smallest following.
I wage no war with children, for I think
Too deeply on mine own.
VIP. I have thought on it, and will see the Gordon
As we go hence to council. I do bear
A cross, which binds me to be Christian priest,
SwI. Spoke like the generous Knight, who gave up As well as Christian champion.3 God may grant, all,
A friend like thee beside him in the fight,
Were worth a hundred spears, to rein his valour
And temper it with prudence:-'tis the aged eagle
Teaches his brood to gaze upon the sun,
With eye undazzled.
VIP. Alas! brave Swinton! Would'st thou train
the hunter
That soon must bring thee to the bay? Your custom,
Your most unchristian, savage, fiend-like custom,
Binds Gordon to avenge his father's death.
Swi. Why, be it so! I look for nothing else:
My part was acted when I slew his father,
Avenging my four sons- -Young Gordon's sword,
If it should find my heart, can ne'er inflict there
A pang so poignant as his father's did.
But I would perish by a noble hand,
And such will his be if he bear him nobly,
Nooly and wisely on this field of Halidon.
That I, at once his father's friend and yours,
May make some peace betwixt you.*
Swi. When that your priestly zeal, and knightly
valour,
Shall force the grave to render up the dead.
The summit of Halidon Hill, before the Regent's Tent.
The Royal Standard of Scotland is seen in the back-
ground, with the Pennons and Banners of the principal
Nobles around it.
Council of Scottish Nobles and Chiefs. SUTHERLAND,
Ross, LENNOX, MAXWELL, and other Nobles of the
highest rank, are close to the REGENT's person, and in
the act of keen debate. VIPONT with GORDON and
others, remain grouped at some distance on the right
hand of the Stage. On the left, standing also apart, is
SWINTON, alone and bare-headed. The Nobles are
dressed in Highland or Lowland habits, as historical
costume requires. Trumpets, Heralds, &c. are in at-
tendance.
LEN. Nay, Lordings, put no shame upon my counsels.
I did but say, if we retired a little,
PUR. Sir Knights, to council!-'tis the Regent's We should have fairer field and better vantage. order,
That knights and men of leading meet him instantly
Before the royal standard. Edward's army
Is seen from the hill-summit.
SWI. Say to the Regent, we obey his orders.
I've seen King Robert-ay, The Bruce himself—
Retreat six leagues in length, and think no shame on 't.
REG. Ay, but King Edward sent a haughty message,
Defying us to battle on this field,
This very hill of Halidon; if we leave it
Unfought withal, it squares not with our honour.
3 MS." The cross I wear appoints me Christian priest, As well as Christian warrior," &c.
In the MS. the scene terminates with this line.
Sw (apart.) A perilous honour, that allows the Display'd beside us; and beneath its shadow
And such an enemy as this same Edward,
To choose our field of battle! He knows how
To make our Scottish pride betray its master
Into the pitfall.
Shall the young gallants, whom we knight this day,
Fight for their golden spurs.-Lennox, thou 'rt wise,
And wilt obey command-lead thou the rear.
LEN. The rear !—why I the rear? The van were
fitter
[During this speech the debate among the Nobles is For him who fought abreast with Robert Bruce. continued.
SwI. (apart.) Discretion hath forsaken Lennox too!
SUTH. (aloud.) We will not back one furlong-not The wisdom he was forty years in gathering one yard,
No, nor one inch; where'er we find the foe,
Or where the foe finds us, there will we fight him.
Retreat will dull the spirit of our followers,
Who now stand prompt for battle.
Ross. My Lords, methinks great Morarchat1 has
doubts,
That, if his Northern clans once turn the seam
Of their check'd hose behind, it will be hard
To halt and rally them.
Has left him in an instant. 'Tis contagious
Even to witness frenzy.
SUTH. The Regent hath determined well. The rear
Suits him the best who counsell'd our retreat.
LEN. Proud Northern Thane, the van were soon the
rear,
Were thy disorder'd followers planted there.
SUTH. Then, for that very word, I make a vow,
By my broad Earldom, and my father's soul,
That, if I have not leading of the van,
SUTH. Say'st thou, MacDonnell ?—Add another I will not fight to-day! falsehood,
And name when Morarchat was coward or traitor?
Thine island race, as chronicles can tell,
Were oft affianced to the Southron cause;
Loving the weight and temper of their gold,
More than the weight and temper of their steel.
REG. Peace, my Lords, ho!
Ross. Morarchat! thou the leading of the van!
Not whilst MacDonnell lives.
Swi. (apart.) Nay, then a stone would speak.
[Addresses the REGENT.] May 't please your Grace,
And you, great Lords, to hear an old man's counsel,
That hath seen fights enow. These open bickerings
Dishearten all our host. If that your Grace,
Ross (throwing down his Glove.) MacDonnell will With these great Earls and Lords, must needs debate,
not peace! There lies my pledge,
Proud Morarchat, to witness thee a liar.
Let the closed tent conceal your disagreement;
Else 'twill be said, ill fares it with the flock,
MAX. Brought I all Nithsdale from the Western If shepherds wrangle, when the wolf is nigh.
Left I my towers exposed to foraying England,
And thieving Annandale, to see such misrule?
JOHN. Who speaks of Annandale? Dare Maxwell
The gentle House of Lochwood ?2
REG. Peace, Lordings, once again. We represent
The Majesty of Scotland-in our presence
Brawling is treason.
SUTH. Were it in presence of the King himself,
What should prevent my saying-
LIN. You must determine quickly. Scarce a mile
Parts our vanguard from Edward's. On the plain
Bright gleams of armour flash through clouds of dust,
Like stars through frost-mist-steeds neigh, and wea-
pons clash-
And arrows soon will whistle-the worst sound
That waits on English war.-You must determine.
REG. We are determined. We will spare proud
Edward
Half of the ground that parts us.-Onward, Lords;
Saint Andrew strike for Scotland! We will lead
The middle ward ourselves, the Royal Standard
REG. The old Knight counsels well. Let every Lord
Or Chief, who leads five hundred men or more,
Follow to council-others are excluded-
We'll have no vulgar censurers of our conduct—
[Looking at SWINTON.
Young Gordon, your high rank and numerous follow-
ing
Give you a seat with us, though yet unknighted.
GORDON. I pray you, pardon me. My youth's unfit
To sit in council, when that Knight's grey hairs
And wisdom wait without.
REG. Do as you will; we deign not bid you twice.
[The REGENT, Ross, SUTHERLAND, LENNOX,
MAXWELL, &c. enter the Tent. The rest remain
grouped about the Stage.
GOR. (observing SwI.) That helmetless old Knight,
his giant stature,
His awful accents of rebuke and wisdom,
Have caught my fancy strangely. He doth seem
Like to some vision'd form which I have dream'd of,
But never saw with waking eyes till now.
I will accost him.
VIP. Pray you, do not so;
Anon I'll give you reason why you should not.
There 's other work in hand-
1 Morarchate is the ancient Gaelic designation of the Earls of Sutherland. See ante, page 607, note.
2 Lochwood Castle was the ancient seat of the Johnstones, Lords of Annandale.
GOR. I will but ask his name.
There's in his pre- Of your dear country, hold !-Has Swinton slain your father,
Something that works upon me like a spell,
Or like the feeling made my childish ear
Dote upon tales of superstitious dread,
Attracting while they chill'd my heart with fear.
Now, born the Gordon, I do feel right well
I'm bound to fear nought earthly-and I fear nought.
I'll know who this man is-
[Accosts SWINTON.
Sir Knight, I pray you, of your gentle courtesy,
To tell your honour'd name. I am ashamed,
Being unknown in arms, to say that mine
Is Adam Gordon.
SWINTON (shows emotion, but instantly subdues it.)
It is a name that soundeth in my ear
Like to a death-knell-ay, and like the call
Of the shrill trumpet to the mortal lists;
Yet, 'tis a name which ne'er hath been dishonour'd,
And never will, I trust-most surely never
By such a youth as thou.
GOR. There's a mysterious courtesy in this,
And yet it yields no answer to my question.
I trust you hold the Gordon not unworthy
To know the name he asks?
SwI. Worthy of all that openness and honour
May show to friend or foe-but, for my name,
Vipont will show it you; and, if it sound
Harsh in your ear, remember that it knells there
But at your own request. This day, at least,
Though seldom wont to keep it in concealment,
As there's no cause I should, you had not heard it.
GOR. This strange-
VIP. The mystery is needful. Follow me.
[They retire behind the side scene. SWI. (looking after them.) "Tis a brave youth. How blush'd his noble cheek,
While youthful modesty, and the embarrassment
Of curiosity, combined with wonder,
And half suspicion of some slight intended,
All mingled in the flush; but soon 'twill deepen
Into revenge's glow. How slow is Vipont !—
I wait the issue, as I've seen spectators
Suspend the motion even of the eyelids,
When the slow gunner, with his lighted match,
Approach'd the charged cannon, in the act
To waken its dread slumbers.-Now 'tis out;
He draws his sword, and rushes towards me,
Who will nor seek nor shun him.
Enter GORDON, withheld by VIPONT.
And must you, therefore, be yourself a parricide,
And stand recorded as the selfish traitor,
Who in her hour of need, his country's cause
Deserts, that he may wreak a private wrong?
Look to yon banner-that is Scotland's standard;
Look to the Regent-he is Scotland's general;
Look to the English-they are Scotland's foemen!
Bethink thee, then, thou art a son of Scotland,
And think on nought beside.
GOR. He hath come here to brave me !-Off! un
Thou canst not be my father's ancient friend,
That stand'st 'twixt me and him who slew my father.
VIP. You know not Swinton. Scarce one passing
Of his high mind was with you; now, his soul
Is fix'd on this day's battle. You might slay him
At unawares before he saw your blade drawn.—
Stand still, and watch him close.3
Enter MAXWELL from the tent.
SwI. How go our councils, Maxwell, may I ask!
MAX. As wild, as if the very wind and sea
With every breeze and every billow battled
For their precedence.*
SwI. Most sure they are possess'd! Some evil
spirit,
To mock their valour, robs them of discretion.
Fie, fie, upon 't!-0, that Dunfermline's tomb
Could render up The Bruce! that Spain's red shore
Could give us back the good Lord James of Douglas !
Or that fierce Randolph, with his voice of terror,
Were here, to awe these brawlers to submission!
VIP. to GOR. Thou hast perused him at more leisure
GOR. I see the giant form which all men speak of,
The stately port-but not the sullen eye,
Not the bloodthirsty look, that should belong
To him that made me orphan. I shall need
To name my father twice ere I can strike
At such grey hairs, and face of such command;
Yet my hand clenches on my falchion hilt,
In token he shall die.
VIP. Need I again remind you, that the place
Permits not private quarrel ?
GOR. I'm calm. I will not seek-nay, I will shun
it-
And yet methinks that such debate's the fashion.
You've heard how taunts, reproaches, and the lie,
VIP. Hold, for the sake of Heaven! O, for the The lie itself, have flown from mouth to mouth; sake
1 "A name unmusical to Volscian ears,
And harsh in sound to thine."-Coriolanus.
2 In the MS. the five last lines of Vipont's speech are inter
3 MS. "You must not here-not where the Royal Standard
Awaits the attack of Scotland's enemies,
As if a band of peasants were disputing
Against the common foe-wage private quarrel.
He braves you not-his thought is on the event
Of this day's field. Stand still and watch him
closer."
4 "Mad as the sea and wind, when both contend
Which is the mightier."-Hamlet.
|