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About a foot-ball match, rather than Chiefs
Were ordering a battle. I am young,

And lack experience; tell me, brave De Vipont,

Is such the fashion of your wars in Palestine?

Enter the REGENT and Scottish Lords.
REG. Thus shall it be, then, since we may no better
And, since no Lord will yield one jot of way
To this high urgency, or give the vanguard

VIP. Such it at times hath been; and then the Up to another's guidance, we will abide them
Cross

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Won us not victory where wisdom was not.-
Behold yon English host come slowly on,
With equal front, rank marshall'd upon rank,
As if one spirit ruled one moving body;
The leaders, in their places, each prepared
To charge, support, and rally, as the fortune
Of changeful battle needs: then look on ours,
Broken, disjointed, as the tumbling surges
Which the winds wake at random. Look on both,
And dread the issue; yet there might be succour.
GOR. We're fearfully o'ermatch'd in discipline;
So even my inexperienced eye can judge.

What succour save in Heaven?

Even on this bent; and as our troops are rank'd,
So shall they meet the foe. Chief, nor Thane,
Nor Noble, can complain of the precedence
Which chance has thus assign'd him.

Swi. (apart.) O, sage discipline,

That leaves to chance the marshalling of a battle!
GOR. Move him to speech, De Vipont.

VIP. Move him!-Move whom?

GOR. Even him, whom, but brief space since,
My hand did burn to put to utter silence.

VIP. I'll move it to him.-Swinton, speak to them.
They lack thy counsel sorely.

Swi. Had I the thousand spears which once I led,

I had not thus been silent. But men's wisdom
Is rated by their means. From the poor leader

VIP. Heaven acts by human means. The artist's Of sixty lances, who seeks words of weight?

skill

Supplies in war, as in mechanic crafts,
Deficiency of tools. There's courage, wisdom,
And skill enough, live in one leader here,
As, flung into the balance, might avail

To counterpoise the odds 'twixt that ruled host
And our wild multitude.-I must not name him.

GOR. (steps forward.) Swinton, there's that of wisdom on thy brow,

And valour in thine eye, and that of peril

In this most urgent hour, that bids me say,—
Bids me, thy mortal foe, say,-Swinton, speak,
For King and Country's sake!

Swi. Nay, if that voice commands me, speak I will;

GOR. I guess, but dare not ask.-What band is It sounds as if the dead lays charge on me.

yonder,

Arranged so closely as the English discipline

Hath marshall'd their best files?

VIP. Know'st thou not the pennon ?

One day, perhaps, thou 'lt see it all too closely;-
It is Sir Alan Swinton's.

GOR. These, then, are his,―the relics of his power;
Yet worth an host of ordinary men.-
And I must slay my country's sagest leader,
And crush by numbers that determined handful,
When most my country needs their practised aid,
Or men will say, "There goes degenerate Gordin;
His father's blood is on the Swinton's sword,
And his is in his scabbard ! "

[Muses.

VIP. (apart.) High blood and mettle, mix'd with
early wisdom,

Sparkle in this brave youth. If he survive
This evil-omen'd day, I pawn my word,
That, in the ruin which I now forbode,
Scotland has treasure left.-How close he eyes
Each look and step of Swinton! Is it hate,
Or is it admiration, or are both
Commingled strangely in that steady gaze?
[SWINTON and MAXWELL return from the bottom

of the stage.

REG. (TO LENNOX, with whom he has been consulting.)
'Tis better than you think. This broad hill-side
Affords fair compass for our power's display,
Rank above rank rising in seemly tiers;
So that the rearward stands as fair and open-
Swi. As e'er stood mark before an English archer.
REG. Who dares to say so?-Who is 't dare impeach
Our rule of discipline?

SwI. A poor Knight of these Marches, good my
Lord;

Alan of Swinton, who hath kept a house here,
He and his ancestry, since the old days
Of Malcolm, called the Maiden.

[field,

REG. You have brought here, even to this pitched
In which the Royal Banner is display'd,

I think some sixty spears, Sir Knight of Swinton;
Our musters name no more.

Swi. I brought each man I had; and Chief, or Earl,
Thane, Duke, or dignitary, brings no more:
And with them brought I what may here be useful---
An aged eye; which, what in England, Scotland,
Spain, France, and Flanders, hath seen fifty battles,
And ta'en some judgment of them; a stark hand too,
Which plays as with a straw with this same mace,—
Which if a young arm here can wield more lightly,

MAX. The storm is laid at length amongst these I never more will offer word of counsel.

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JOHN. Ay, hear the Swinton-hear stout old Sir I've done such work before, and love it well;

Alan;

Maxwell and Johnstone both agree for once.

REG. Where's your impatience now?
Late you were all for battle, would not hear
Ourself pronounce a word-and now you gaze
On yon old warrior, in his antique armour,
As if he were arisen from the dead,
To bring us Bruce's counsel for the battle.

SwI. 'Tis a proud word to speak; but he who
fought

Long under Robert Bruce, may something guess,
Without communication with the dead,

[ye

At what he would have counsell'd.-Bruce had bidden
Review your battle-order, marshall'd broadly
Here on the bare hill-side, and bidden you mark
Yon clouds of Southron archers, bearing down

If 'tis your pleasure to give me the leading,
The dames of Sherwood, Inglewood, and Weardale,
Shall sit in widowhood and long for venison,
And long in vain. Whoe'er remembers Bannock.
burn,-

And when shall Scotsman, till the last loud trumpet,
Forget that stirring word!-knows that great battle
Even thus was fought and won.

LEN. This is the shortest road to bandy blows;
For when the bills step forth and bows go back,
Then is the moment that our hardy spearmen,
With their strong bodies, and their stubborn hearts,
And limbs well knit by mountain exercise,
At the close tug shall foil the short-breath'd Southron.
SwI. I do not say the field will thus be won;
The English host is numerous, brave, and loyal;

To the green meadow-lands which stretch beneath-Their Monarch most accomplish'd in war's art,

The Bruce had warn'd you, not a shaft to-day
But shall find mark within a Scottish bosom,
If thus our field be order❜d. The callow boys,
Who draw but four-foot bows, shall gall our front,
While on our mainward, and upon the rear,
The cloth-yard shafts shall fall like death's own darts,
And, though blind men discharge them, find a mark.
Thus shall we die the death of slaughter'd deer,
Which, driven into the toils, are shot at ease
By boys and women, while they toss aloft

All idly and in vain their branchy horns,

As we shall shake our unavailing spears.

Skill'd, resolute, and wary—

REG. And if your scheme secure not victory,2
What does it promise us?

Swi.
This much at least,-
Darkling we shall not die: the peasant's shaft,
Loosen'd perchance without an aim or purpose,
Shall not drink up the life-blood we derive
From those famed ancestors, who made their breasts
This frontier's barrier for a thousand years.
We'll meet these Southron bravely hand to hand,
And eye to eye, and weapon against weapon;

Each man who falls shall see the foe who strikes him.

REG. Tush, tell not me! If their shot fall like hail, While our good blades are faithful to the hilts, Our men have Milan coats to bear it out.

Swi. Never did armourer temper steel on stithy That made sure fence against an English arrow;

A cobweb gossamer were guard as good1

Against a wasp-sting.

REG. Who fears a wasp-sting?
Swi.

And our good hands to these good blades are faithful,
Blow shall meet blow, and none fall unavenged-
We shall not bleed alone.

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I, my Lord, fear none; (If one, among the guilty guiltiest, might,)

Yet should a wise man brush the insect off,

Or he may smart for it.

For this one day to charm to ten hours' rest
The never-dying worm of deadly feud,

REG. We'll keep the hill; it is the vantage-ground That gnaws our vexed hearts-think no one foe When the main battle joins.

SwI. It ne'er will join, while their light archery
Can foil our spearmen and our barbed horse.
To hope Plantagenet would seek close combat
When he can conquer riskless, is to deem
Sagacious Edward simpler than a babe

In battle-knowledge. Keep the hill, my Lord,
With the main body, if it is your pleasure;
But let a body of your chosen horse
Make execution on yon waspish archers.

Save Edward and his host:-days will remain,3
Ay, days by far too many will remain,

To avenge old feuds or struggles for precedence ;---
Let this one day be Scotland's.--For myself,

If there is any here may claim from me
(As well may chance) a debt of blood and hatred,
My life is his to-morrow unresisting,
So he to-day will let me do the best

That my old arm may achieve for the dear country
That 's mother to us both.

1 MS." guard as thick."

2 "The generous abandonment of private dissension, on the part of Gordon, which the historian has described as a momentary impulse, is depicted by the dramatist with great skill and knowledge of human feeling, as the result of many powerful and conflicting emotions. He has, we think, been very successful in his attempt to express the hesitating, and sometimes retrograde movements of a young and ardent mind, in Its transition from the first glow of indignation against his

hereditary foeman, the mortal antagonist of his father, to the no less warm and generous devotion of feeling which is inspired in it by the contemplation of that foeman's valour and virtues."-British Critic.

3 MS." For this one day to chase our country's curse
From your vex'd bosoms, and think no one enemy
But those in yonder army-days enow,
Ay days," &c.

[GORDON shows much emotion during this and the preceding speech of SWINTON. REG. It is a dream-a vision !-if one troop Rush down upon the archers, all will follow,

And order is destroy'd-we 'll keep the battle-rank

Our fathers wont to do. No more on 't.-Ho!

Be faithful, brave, and O, be fortunate,
Should this ill hour permit!

[The trumpets sound; the Heralds crg
"Largesse," and the Attendants shout
"A Gordon! A Gordon!"
REG. Beggars and flatterers! Peace, peace, I say!

Where be those youths seek knighthood from our We'll to the Standard; knights shall there be made sword?

HER. Here are the Gordon, Somerville, and Hay,
And Hepburn, with a score of gallants more.

REG. Gordon, stand forth.
GOR.

Who will with better reason crave your clamour.
LEN. What of Swinton's counsel?

Here's Maxwell and myself think it worth noting.
REG. (with concentrated indignation.)

I pray your Grace, forgive me. Let the best knight, and let the sagest leader,—
So Gordon quotes the man who slew his father,-

REG. How! seek you not for knighthood?
GOR.

I do thirst for 't. With his old pedigree and heavy mace,
Essay the adventure if it pleases him,
With his fair threescore horse. As for ourselves,
We will not peril aught upon the measure.

But, pardon me 'tis from another sword.
REG. It is your Sovereign's-seek you for a worthier?
GOR. Who would drink purely, seeks the secret
fountain,

How small soever-not the general stream,
Though it be deep and wide. My Lord, I seek
The boon of knighthood from the honour'd weapon
Of the best knight, and of the sagest leader,
That ever graced a ring of chivalry.
-Therefore, I beg the boon on bended knee,
Even from Sir Alan Swinton.

[Kneels.

REG. Degenerate boy! Abject at once and insolent!

See, Lords, he kneels to him that slew his father! GOR. (starting up.) Shame be on him, who speaks such shameful word!

Shame be on him, whose tongue would sow dissen-
sion,

When most the time demands that native Scotsmen
Forget each private wrong!

GOR. Lord Regent, you mistake; for if Sir Alan
Shall venture such attack, each man who calls
The Gordon chief, and hopes or fears from him
Or good or evil, follows Swinton's banner
In this achievement.

REG. Why, God ha' mercy! This is of a piece.
Let young and old e'en follow their own counsel,
Since none will list to mine.

Ross. The Border cockerel fain would be on
horseback;

'Tis safe to be prepared for fight or flight:
And this comes of it to give Northern lands
To the false Norman blood.

GOR. Hearken, proud Chief of Isles! Within my
stalls

I have two hundred horse; two hundred riders
Mount guard upon my castle, who would tread

SwI. (interrupting him.) Youth, since you crave me Into the dust a thousand of your Redshanks,

To be your sire in chivalry, I remind you
War has it duties, Office has its reverence;
Who governs in the Sovereign's name is Sovereign;-
Crave the Lord Regent's pardon.

GOR. You task me justly, and I crave his pardon,
[Bows to the REGENT.
His and these noble Lords'; and pray them all
Bear witness to my words.-Ye noble presence,
Here I remit unto the Knight of Swinton
All bitter memory of my father's slaughter,
All thoughts of malice, hatred, and revenge;
By no base fear or composition moved,

But by the thought, that in our country's battle
All hearts should be as one. I do forgive him
As freely as I pray to be forgiven,

And once more kneel to him to sue for knighthood.
SwI. (affected, and drawing his sword.)

Alas! brave youth, 'tis I should kneel to you,
And, tendering thee the hilt of the fell sword
That made thee fatherless, bid thee use the point
After thine own discretion. For thy boon-
Trumpets be ready-In the Holiest name,
And in Our Lady's and Saint Andrew's name,
[Touching his shoulder with his sword.
I dub thee Knight!-Arise, Sir Adam Gordon!

Nor count it a day's service.

Swi.

Hear I this

From thee, young man, and on the day of battle?
And to the brave MacDonnell ?

GOR. "Twas he that urged me; but I am rebuked.
REG. He crouches like a leash-hound to his master!!
Swi. Each hound must do so that would head the
deer-

"Tis mongrel curs that snatch at mate or master.
REG. Too much of this. Sirs, to the Royal Stan-
dard!

I bid you, in the name of good King David.
Sound trumpets-sound for Scotland and King David!
[The REGENT and the rest go off, and the
Scene closes. Manent GORDON, SWIN-
TON, and VIPONT, with REYNALD and
followers. LENNOX follows the REGENT;
but returns, and addresses SWINTON.
LEN. O, were my western horsemen but come up,
I would take part with you!

Swi.
Better that you remain.
They lack discretion; such grey head as yours
May best supply that want.

In the MS. this speech and the next are interpolated.

SwI. An ancient friend?-a most notorious knave, Whose throat I've destined to the dodder'd oak

Lennox, mine ancient friend, and honour'd lord,

Farewell, I think, for ever!

LEN. Farewell, brave friend!—and farewell, noble Before my castle, these ten months and more.
Gordon,

Whose sun will be eclipsed even as it rises!—

The Regent will not aid you.

Was it not you who drove from Simprim-mains,
And Swinton-quarter, sixty head of cattle?
HOB. What then, if now I lead your sixty lances

Swi. We will so bear us, that as soon the blood- Upon the English flank, where they'll find spoil hound

Shall halt, and take no part, what time his comrade

Is grappling with the deer, as he stand still,

And see us overmatch'd.

Is worth six hundred beeves?

Swi. Why, thou canst do it, knave. I would not trust thee

With one poor bullock; yet would risk my life,

LEN. Alas! thou dost not know how mean his And all my followers, on thine honest guidance. pride is,

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HOB. There is a dingle, and a most discreet one,
(I've trod each step by star-light,) that sweeps round
The rearward of this hill, and opens secretly
Upon the archers' flank.-Will not that serve
Your present turn, Sir Alan?

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GOR. Thou, Swinton?-no!-that cannot, cannot On, thou false thief, but yet most faithful Scotsman !

be.

SwI. Then change the phrase, and say, that while

we live,

Gordon shall be my son. If thou art fatherless,
Am I not childless too? Bethink thee, Gordon,
Our death-feud was not like the household fire,
Which the poor peasant hides among its embers,
To smoulder on, and wait a time for waking.
Ours was the conflagration of the forest,
Which, in its fury, spares nor sprout nor stem,
Hoar oak, nor sapling-not to be extinguish❜d,
Till Heaven, in mercy, sends down all her waters;
But, once subdued, its flame is quench'd for ever;
And spring shall hide the tract of devastation,'
With foliage and with flowers.--Give me thy hand.
GOR. My hand and heart!-And freely now!-to
fight!

VIP. How will you act? [To SwINTON.] The Gor-
don's band and thine

Are in the rearward left, I think, in scorn-
Ill post for them who wish to charge the foremost!
Swi. We'll turn that scorn to vantage, and de-
scend

Sidelong the hill-some winding path there must be-
O, for a well-skill'd guide!

[HOB HATTELY starts up from a Thicket. HOB. So here he stands.-An ancient friend, Sir Alan.

Hob Hattely, or, if you like it better,

Hob of the Heron Plume, here stands your guide.

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On yon hill side, like a Leviathan

That's stranded on the shallows, then had soul in 't,
Order and discipline, and power of action.

Even as the artist, sir, whose name offends you,
Sits prosing o'er his can, until the trap fall,
Announcing that the vermin are secured,

And then 'tis up, and on them.

Now 'tis a headless corpse, which only shows,

PER. Chandos, you give your tongue too bold a By wild convulsions, that some life remains in 't. license.

CHA. Percy, I am a necessary evil.

King Edward would not want me, if he could,
And could not, if he would. I know my value.
My heavy hand excuses my light tongue.
So men wear weighty swords in their defence,
Although they may offend the tender shin,
When the steel-boot is doff'd.

AB.
My Lord of Chandos,
This is but idle speech on brink of battle,
When Christian men should think upon their sins;
For as the tree falls, so the trunk must lie,
Be it for good or evil. Lord, bethink thee,
Thou hast withheld from our most reverend house,
The tithes of Everingham and Settleton;
Wilt thou make satisfaction to the Church
Before her thunders strike thee? I do warn thee
In most paternal sort.

CHA. I thank you, Father, filially.
Though but a truant son of Holy Church,
I would not choose to undergo her censures,
When Scottish blades are waving at my throat.

I'll make fair composition.

AB. No composition; I'll have all, or none.

K. ED. True, they had once a head; and 'twas a

wise,

Although a rebel head.

AB. (bowing to the KING.) Would he were here! we should find one to match him.

K. ED. There's something in that wish which
wakes an echo

Within my bosom. Yet it is as well,
Or better, that The Bruce is in his grave.
We have enough of powerful foes on earth,-
No need to summon them from other worlds.
PER. Your Grace ne'er met The Bruce ?
K. ED. Never himself; but in my earliest field,

I did encounter with his famous captains,
Douglas and Randolph. Faith! they press'd me hard.
AB. My Liege, if I might urge you with a question,
Will the Scots fight to-day?

K. ED. (sharply.) Go look your breviary.

CHA. (apart.) The Abbot has it-Edward will not

answer

On that nice point. We must observe his humour.— [Addresses the KING. Your first campaign, my Liege ?—That was in Weardale,

CHA. None, then-'tis soonest spoke. I'll take my When Douglas gave our camp yon midnight ruffle,

chance,

And trust my sinful soul to Heaven's mercy,
Rather than risk my worldly goods with thee-
My hour may not be come.

AB. Impious-impenitent-
PER.

And turn'd men's beds to biers?

K. ED. Ay, by Saint Edward!-I escaped right nearly.

I was a soldier then for holidays,

And slept not in mine armour: my safe rest

Hush! the King-the King! Was startled by the cry of " Douglas! Douglas!"
And by my couch, a grisly chamberlain,
Stood Alan Swinton, with his bloody mace.
It was a churchman saved me-my stout chaplain,
Heaven quit his spirit! caught a weapon up,
And grappled with the giant.-How now, Louis?

Enter KING EDWARD, attended by BALIOL and others.
KING (apart to CHA.) Hark hither, Chandos!
Have the Yorkshire archers

Yet join'd the vanguard?

CHA. They are marching thither.

K. ED. Bid them make haste, for shame-send a
quick rider.

The loitering knaves! were it to steal my venison,
Their steps were light enough.-How now, Sir Abbot?
Say, is your Reverence come to study with us
The princely art of war?

AB. I've had a lecture from my Lord of Chandos,
In which he term'd your Grace a rat-catcher.
K. ED. Chandos, how 's this?

CHA. O, I will prove it, sir!--These skipping Scots
Have changed a dozen times 'twixt Bruce and Baliol,
Quitting each House when it began to totter;
They're fierce and cunning, treacherous, too, as rats,
And we, as such, will smoke them in their fastnesses.
K. ED. These rats have seen your back, my Lord
of Chandos,

And noble Percy's too.

PER. Ay; but the mass which now lies weltering

Enter an Officer, who whispers the KING.

K. ED. Say to him,-thus-and thus

[Whispers.

AB. That Swinton's dead. A monk of ours re-
ported,

Bound homeward from St. Ninian's pilgrimage,
The Lord of Gordon slew him.

PER. Father, and if your house stood on our borders,
You might have cause to know that Swinton lives,
And is on horseback yet.

CHA.
He slew the Gordon,
That's all the difference-a very trifle.
AB. Trifling to those who wage a war more noble
Than with the arm of flesh.

CHA. (apart.) The Abbot's vex'd, I'll rub the sore
for him.-

(Aloud.) I have seen priests that used that arm of flesh,

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