It adds no deeper shade to the dark gloom
Which chills the springs of hope and life within me.
Our guide hath got a trick of voice and feature
Like to the maid I spoke of-that is all.

SER. She bounds before us like a gamesome doe,

Or rather as the rock-bred eaglet soars

Up to her nest, as if she rose by will
Without an effort. Now a Netherlander,

One of our Frogland friends, viewing the scene,
Would take his oath that tower, and rock, and maiden,
Were forms too light and lofty to be real,
And only some delusion of the fancy,
Such as men dream at sunset. I myself
Have kept the level ground so many years,
I have wellnigh forgot the art to climb,
Unless assisted by thy younger arm.

Joy in your joy, though he himself is sad.
Brown hair, and downcast looks.

MAR. (alarmed.) 'Tis but an idle thought-it can.

not be !

I hear his accents-It is all too true-
My terrors were prophetic!

[Listens.

I'll compose myself,
And then accost him firmly. Thus it must be.
[She retires hastily into the Tower.
[The voices of the SERGEANT and QUENTIN are
heard ascending behind the Scenes.
QUE. One effort more-we stand upon the level.
I've seen thee work thee up glacis and cavalier
Steeper than this ascent, when cannon, culverine,
Musket, and hackbut, shower'd their shot upon thee,
And form'd, with ceaseless blaze, a fiery garland

[They go off as if to ascend to the Tower, the Round the defences of the post you storm'd.
SERGEANT leaning upon QUENTIN.

SCENE II.

Scene changes to the Front of the Old Tower. ISABEL comes forward with her Mother,—MARION speaking as they advance.

MAR. I blame thee not, my child, for bidding wan-
derers

Come share our food and shelter, if thy father
Were here to welcome them; but, Isabel,
He waits upon his lord at Auchindrane,
And comes not home to-night.

ISA.
What then, my mother?
The travellers do not ask to see my father;
Food, shelter, rest, is all the poor men want,
And we can give them these without my father.

MAR. Thou canst not understand, nor I explain,

Why a lone female asks not visitants

[They come on the Stage, and at the same time
MARION re-enters from the Tower.

SER. Truly thou speak'st. I am the tardier,
That I, in climbing hither, miss the fire,
Which wont to tell me there was death in loitering.-
Here stands, methinks, our hostess.

[He goes forward to address MARION. QUEN-
TIN, struck on seeing her, keeps back.
SER. Kind dame, yon little lass hath brought you
strangers,

Willing to be a trouble, not a charge to you.
We are disbanded soldiers, but have means
Ample enough to pay our journey homeward.

MAR. We keep no house of general entertainment,
But know our duty, sir, to locks like yours,
Whiten'd and thinn'd by many a long campaign.
Ill chances that my husband should be absent-
(Apart.) Courage alone can make me struggle
through it-

For in your comrade, though he hath forgot me,

I spy a friend whom I have known in school-days,

What time her husband 's absent.-(Apart.) My poor And whom I think MacLellan well remembers.

child,

And if thou 'rt wedded to a jealous husband,

Thou 'lt know too soon the cause.

You see a woman's memory

[She goes up to QUENTIN.

Is faithfuller than yours; for Quentin Blane

ISA. (partly overhearing what her mother says.) Ay, Hath not a greeting left for Marion Harkness.

but I know already-Jealousy

Is, when my father chides, and you sit weeping.
MAR. Out, little spy! thy father never chides;
Or, if he does, 'tis when his wife deserves it.-
But to our strangers; they are old men, Isabel,
That seek this shelter? are they not?
ISA.
One is old-
Old as this tower of ours, and worn like that,
Bearing deep marks of battles long since fought.
MAR. Some remnant of the wars; he's welcome,
surely,

Bringing no quality along with him
Which can alarm suspicion.-Well, the other?

Isa. A young man, gentle-voiced and gentle-eyed,
Who looks and speaks like one the world has frown'd

on;

But smiles when you smile, seeming that he feels

QUE. (with effort.) I seek, indeed, my native land,

good Marion,

But seek it like a stranger.-All is changed,
And thou thyself—

MAR.
You left a giddy maiden,
And find, on your return, a wife and mother.
Thine old acquaintance, Quentin, is my mate
Stout Niel MacLellan, ranger to our lord,
The Knight of Auchindrane. He 's absent now,
But will rejoice to see his former comrade,
If, as I trust, you tarry his return.

(Apart.) Heaven grant he understand my words by
contraries!

He must remember Niel and he were rivals;
He must remember Niel and he were foes;
He must remember Niel is warm of temper,
And think, instead of welcome, I would blithely

Bid him, God speed you. But he is as simple
And void of guile as ever.

QUE. Marion, I gladly rest within your cottage,
And gladly wait return of Niel MacLellan,
To clasp his hand, and wish him happiness.
Some rising feelings might perhaps prevent this-
But 'tis a peevish part to grudge our friends
Their share of fortune because we have miss'd it;
I can wish others joy and happiness,
Though I must ne'er partake them.

MAR. But if it grieve you—

Or rather dissipates, his time and substance.
No vagabond escapes his search-The soldier
Spurn'd from the service, henceforth to be ruffian
Upon his own account, is Philip's comrade;
The fiddler, whose crack'd crowd has still three strings
on't;

The balladeer, whose voice has still two notes left;
Whate'er is roguish and whate'er is vile,
Are welcome to the board of Auchindrane,
And Philip will return them shout for shout,
And pledge for jovial pledge, and song for song,

QUE. No! do not fear. The brightest gleams of Until the shamefaced sun peep at our windows, hope

That shine on me are such as are reflected

From those which shine on others.

And ask, "What have we here?"

GIF. You take such revel deeply-we are Scotsmen,

[The SERGEANT and QUENTIN enter the Tower Far known for rustic hospitality,

with the little Girl.

MAR. (comes forward, and speaks in agitation.) Even
so! the simple youth has miss'd my meaning.

I shame to make it plainer, or to say,
In one brief word, Pass on-Heaven guide the bark,
For we are on the breakers! [Exit into the Tower.

ACT II.-SCENE I.

A withdrawing Apartment in the Castle of Auchindrane.
Servants place a Table, with a Flask of Wine and
Drinking-Cups.

Enter MURE of AUCHINDRANE, with ALBERT GIFFORD, his Relation and Visitor. They place themselves by the Table after some complimentary ceremony. At some distance is heard the noise of revelling.

AUCH. We're better placed for confidential talk,
Than in the hall fill'd with disbanded soldiers,
And fools and fiddlers gather'd on the highway,-
The worthy guests whom Philip crowds my hall with,
And with them spends his evening.

That mind not birth or titles in our guests;
The harper has his seat beside our hearth,
The wanderer must find comfort at our board,
His name unask'd, his pedigree unknown;
So did our ancestors, and so must we.

AUCH. All this is freely granted, worthy kinsman;
And prithee do not think me churl enough
To count how many sit beneath my salt.
I've wealth enough to fill my father's hall

Each day at noon, and feed the guests who crowd it:
I am near mate with those whom men call Lord,
Though a rude western knight. But mark me, cou-

sin,

Although I feed wayfaring vagabonds,

I make them not my comrades. Such as I,
Who have advanced the fortunes of my line,
And swell'd a baron's turret to a palace,
Have oft the curse awaiting on our thrift,
To see, while yet we live, the things which must be
At our decease the downfall of our family,
The loss of land and lordship, name and knighthood,
The wreck of the fair fabric we have built,
By a degenerate heir. Philip has that
Of inborn meanness in him, that he loves not
The company of betters, nor of equals;
Never at ease, unless he bears the bell,
And crows the loudest in the company.

GIF. But think you not, my friend, that your son He 's mesh'd, too, in the snares of every female

Philip

Should be participant of these our councils,

Being so deeply mingled in the danger—

Your house's only heir--your only son?

Who deigns to cast a passing glance on him--
Licentious, disrespectful, rash, and profligate.
GIF. Come, my good coz, think we too have been
young,

AUCH. Kind cousin Gifford, if thou lack'st good And I will swear that in your father's lifetime
counsel

At race, at cockpit, or at gambling table,
Or any freak by which men cheat themselves
As well of life, as of the means to live,
Call for assistance upon Philip Mure;
But in all serious parley spare invoking him.
GIF. You speak too lightly of my cousin Philip;
All name him brave in arms.

AUCH.
A second Bevis ;
But I, my youth bred up in graver fashions,
Mourn o'er the mode of life in which he spends,

You have yourself been trapp'd by toys like these.
AUCH. A fool I may have been-but not a madman;

I never play'd the rake among my followers,
Pursuing this man's sister, that man's wife;
And therefore never saw I man of mine,
When summon'd to obey my hest, grow restive,
Talk of his honour, of his peace destroy'd,
And, while obeying, mutter threats of vengeance.
But now the humour of an idle youth,
Disgusting trusted followers, sworn dependents,
Plays football with his honour and my safety.

GIF. I'm sorry to find discord in your house,
For I had hoped, while bringing you cold news,
To find you arm'd in union 'gainst the danger.
AUCH. What can man speak that I would shrink to
hear,

And where the danger I would deign to shun?

[He rises.

What should appal a man inured to perils,
Like the bold climber on the crags of Ailsa?
Winds whistle past him, billows rage below,
The sea-fowl sweep around, with shriek and clang,
One single slip, one unadvised pace,

One qualm of giddiness-and peace be with him!
But he whose grasp is sure, whose step is firm,
Whose brain is constant-he makes one proud rock
The means to scale another, till he stand
Triumphant on the peak.

And so I trust

GIF.
Thou wilt surmount the danger now approaching,
Which scarcely can I frame my tongue to tell you,
Though I rode here on purpose.

AUCH. Cousin, I think thy heart was never coward, And strange it seems thy tongue should take such semblance.

I've heard of many a loud-mouth'd, noisy braggart,
Whose hand gave feeble sanction to his tongue;
But thou art one whose heart can think bold things,
Whose hand can act them-but who shrinks to speak
them!

GIF. And if I speak them not, 'tis that I shame
To tell thee of the calumnies that load thee.
Things loudly spoken at the city Cross-
Things closely whisper'd in our Sovereign's ear-
Things which the plumed lord and flat-capp'd citizen
Do circulate amid their different ranks-

"Be friends." No doubt we were so-Who dares doubt it?

GIF. You speak but half the tale.

AUCH. By good Saint Trimon, but I'll tell the whole!

There is no terror in the tale for me- 1

Go speak of ghosts to children!-This Earl Gilbert
(God sain him) loved Heaven's peace as well as I did,
And we were wondrous friends whene'er we met
At church or market, or in burrows town.
Midst this, our good Lord Gilbert, Earl of Cassilis,
Takes purpose he would journey forth to Edinburgh.
The King was doling gifts of abbey-lands,
Good things that thrifty house was wont to fish for.
Our mighty Earl forsakes his sea-wash'd castle,
Passes our borders some four miles from hence;
And, holding it unwholesome to be fasters
Long after sunrise, lo! The Earl and train
Dismount, to rest their nags and eat their breakfast.
The morning rose, the small birds caroll'd sweetly-
The corks were drawn, the pasty brooks incision—
His lordship jests, his train are choked with laughter;
When,-wondrous change of cheer, and most unlook'd
for,

Strange epilogue to bottle and to baked meat!—
Flash'd from the greenwood half a score of carabines,
And the good Earl of Cassilis, in his breakfast,
Had nooning, dinner, supper, all at once,
Even in the morning that he closed his journey;
And the grim sexton, for his chamberlain,
Made him the bed which rests the head for ever.
GIF. Told with much spirit, cousin-some there are
Would add, and in a tone resembling triumph.
And would that with these long establish'd facts
My tale began and ended! I must tell you,

Things false, no doubt; but, falsehoods while I deem That evil-deeming censures of the events,
them,

Still honouring thee, I shun the odious topic.

Both at the time and now, throw blame on thee-
Time, place, and circumstance, they say, proclaim thee,

AUCH. Shun it not, cousin; 'tis a friend's best Alike, the author of that morning's ambush.

office

To bring the news we hear unwillingly.
The sentinel, who tells the foe's approach,

And wakes the sleeping camp, does but his duty:
Be thou as bold in telling me of danger,
As I shall be in facing danger told of.

GIF. I need not bid thee recollect the death-feud
That raged so long betwixt thy house and Cassilis;
I need not bid thee recollect the league,
When royal James himself stood mediator
Between thee and Earl Gilbert.

AUCH. Ay, 'tis an old belief in Carrick here,
Where natives do not always die in bed,
That if a Kennedy shall not attain
Methuselah's last span, a Mure has slain him.
Such is the general creed of all their clan.
Thank Heaven, that they're bound to prove the charge
They are so prompt in making. They have claniour'd
Enough of this before, to show their malice.
But what said these coward pickthanks when I came
Before the King, before the Justicers,
Rebutting all their calumnies, and daring them

AUCH. Call you these news?--You might as well To show that I knew aught of Cassilis' journey-

have told me

That old King Coil is dead, and graved at Kylesfeld.
I'll help thee out-King James commanded us
Henceforth to live in peace, made us clasp hands too.
O, sir, when such an union hath been made,
In heart and hand conjoining mortal foes,
Under a monarch's royal mediation,

The league is not forgotten. And with this

What is there to be told? The king commanded

Which way he meant to travel-where to halt-
Without which knowledge I possess'd no means
To dress an ambush for him? Did I not
Defy the assembled clan of Kennedys
To show, by proof direct or inferential,
Wherefore they slander'd me with this foul charge?

"There is no terror, Cassius, in vour threats." SHAKSPEARE.

My gauntlet rung before them in the court,
And I did dare the best of them to lift it,
And prove such charge a true one-Did I not?
GIF. I saw your gauntlet lie before the Kennedys,
Who look'd on it as men do on an adder,
Longing to crush, and yet afraid to grasp it.
Not an eye sparkled-not a foot advanced-
No arm was stretch'd to lift the fatal symbol.

AUCH. Then, wherefore do the hildings murmur
now?

Wish they to see again, how one bold Mure
Can baffle and defy their assembled valour?

GIF. No; but they speak of evidence suppress'd.
AUCH. Suppress'd!—what evidence-by whom

suppress'd?

What Will-o'-Wisp-what idiot of a witness,
Is he to whom they trace an empty voice,
But cannot show his person?

They pretend,

GIF.
With the King's leave, to bring it to a trial;
Averring that a lad, named Quentin Blane,
Brought thee a letter from the murder'd Earl,
With friendly greetings, telling of his journey,
The hour which he set forth, the place he halted at
Affording thee the means to form the ambush,
Of which your hatred made the application.

AUCH. A prudent Earl, indeed, if such his practice,
When dealing with a recent enemy!

AUCH.

Ha ha! most true, my cousin.
Why, well consider'd, 'tis a crime so great
To slay one's enemy, the King forbidding it,
Like parricide, it should be held impossible.
"Tis just as if a wretch retain❜d the evil,
When the King's touch had bid the sores be heal'd;
And such a crime merits the stake at least.
What! can there be within a Scottish bosom
A feud so deadly, that it kept its ground
When the King said, Be friends! It is not credible.
Were I King James, I never would believe it:
I'd rather think the story all a dream,
And that there was no friendship, feud, nor journey,
No halt, no ambush, and no Earl of Cassilis,
Than dream anointed Majesty has wrong!-

GIF. Speak within door, coz.

AUCH. O, true-(aside)-I shall betray myself
Even to this half-bred fool.-I must have room,
Room for an instant, or I suffocate.-
Cousin, I prithee call our Philip hither-
Forgive me; 'twere more meet I summon'd him

And what should he propose by such strange confi- Myself; but then the sight of yonder revel
dence

In one who sought it not?

GIF. His purposes were kindly, say the Kennedys-
Desiring you would meet him where he halted,
Offering to undertake whate'er commissions
You listed trust him with, for court or city:
And, thus apprised of Cassilis' purposed journey,
And of his halting place, you placed the ambush,,
Prepared the homicides-

Would chafe my blood, and I have need of coolness.
GIF. I understand thee-I will bring him straight.

[Exit.

AUCH. And if thou dost, he's lost his ancient trick
To fathom, as he wont, his five-pint flagons.-
This space is mine-O for the power to fill it,
Instead of senseless rage and empty curses,
With the dark spell which witches learn from fiends,
That smites the object of their hate afar,

AUCH. They're free to say their pleasure. They are Nor leaves a token of its mystic action,

men

Of the new court-and I am but a fragment
Of stout old Morton's faction. It is reason
That such as I be rooted from the earth

That they may have full room to spread their branches.
No doubt, 'tis easy to find strolling vagrants
To prove whate'er they prompt. This Quentin Blane-
Did you not call him so?-why comes he now?
And wherefore not before? This must be answer'd
-(abruptly)-

Where is he now?
GIF.

Abroad-they say-kidnapp'd,

By you kidnapp'd, that he might die in Flanders.
But orders have been sent for his discharge,
And his transmission hither.

Stealing the soul from out the unscathed body,

As lightning melts the blade, nor harms the scab-
bard!

-"Tis vain to wish for it-Each curse of mine
Falls to the ground as harmless as the arrows
Which children shoot at stars! The time for thought,
If thought could aught avail me, melts away,
Like to a snowball in a schoolboy's hand,
That melts the faster the more close he grasps it !—
If I had time, this Scottish Solomon,

Whom some call son of David the Musician,'
Might find it perilous work to march to Carrick.
There's many a feud still slumbering in its ashes,
Whose embers are yet red. Nobles we have,
Stout as old Graysteel, and as hot as Bothwell;

AUCH. (assuming an air of composure.) When they Here too are castles look from crags as high

produce such witness, cousin Gifford,

We'll be prepared to meet it. In the meanwhile,
The King doth ill to throw his royal sceptre
In the accuser's scale, ere he can know

How justice shall incline it.

On seas as wide as Logan's. So the King-
Pshaw! He is here again—

The calumnious tale which ascribed the birth of James

VI. to an intrigue of Queen Mary with Rizzio.

GIF.

Enter GIFFORD.

I heard you name
The King, my kinsman; know, he comes not hither.
AUCH. (affecting indifference.) Nay, then we need not
broach our barrels, cousin,

Nor purchase us new jerkins.-Comes not Philip?
GIF. Yes, sir. He tarries but to drink a service
To his good friends at parting.

AUCH. Friends for the beadle or the sheriff-officer.
Well, let it pass. Who comes, and how attended,
Since James designs not westward?

GIF. O you shall have, instead, his fiery functionary,
George Home that was, but now Dunbar's great Earl;
He leads a royal host, and comes to show you
How he distributes justice on the Border,
Where judge and hangman oft reverse their office,
And the noose does its work before the sentence.
But I have said my tidings best and worst.
None but yourself can know what course the time
And peril may demand. To lift your banner,
If I might be a judge, were desperate game:
Ireland and Galloway offer you convenience
For flight, if flight be thought the better remedy;
To face the court requires the consciousness
And confidence of innocence. You alone
Can judge if you possess these attributes.

[A noise behind the scenes.
AUCH. Philip, I think, has broken up his revels;
His ragged regiment are dispersing them,
Well liquor'd, doubtless. They're disbanded soldiers,
Or some such vagabonds.-Here comes the gallant.
[Enter PHILIP. He has a buff-coat and head-
piece, wears a sword and dagger, with pistols
at his girdle. He appears to be affected by
liquor, but to be by no means intoxicated.
AUCH. You scarce have been made known to one
another.

Although you sate together at the board.—
Son Philip, know and prize our cousin Gifford.
PHI. (tastes the wine on the table.) If you had prized
him, sir, you had been loth

To have welcomed him in bastard Alicant:
I'll make amends, by pledging his good journey
In glorious Burgundy.-The stirrup-cup, ho!
And bring my cousin's horses to the court.

Where nectar 's plenty, or even water's scarce,
And filter'd to the parched crew by dropsfull.

AUCH. Thou 'rt mad, son Philip !-Gifford's no in.
truder,

That we should rid him hence by such wild rants:
My kinsman hither rode at his own danger,
To tell us that Dunbar is hasting to us,
With a strong force, and with the King's commission,
To enforce against our house a hateful charge,
With every measure of extremity.

PHI. And is this all that our good cousin tells
us?

I can say more, thanks to the ragged regiment,
With whose good company you have upbraided me,
On whose authority, I tell thee, cousin,
Dunbar is here already.

GIF.

Already?

PHI. Yes, gentle coz. And you, my sire, be hasty In what you think to do.

AUCH. I think thou darest not jest on such a subject. Where hadst thou these fell tidings?

PHI. Where you, too, might have heard them, noble

father,

Save that your ears, nail'd to our kinsman's lips,
Would list no coarser accents. O, my soldiers,
My merry crew of vagabonds, for ever!
Scum of the Netherlands, and wash'd ashore
Upon this coast like unregarded sea-weed,
They had not been two hours on Scottish land,
When, lo! they met a military friend,
An ancient fourier, known to them of old,
Who, warm'd by certain stoups of searching wine,
Inform'd his old companions that Dunbar
Left Glasgow yesterday, comes here to-morrow;
Himself, he said, was sent a spy before,
To view what preparations we were making.
AUCH. (to GIF.) If this be sooth, good kinsman, thou
must claim

To take a part with us for life and death,
Or speed from hence, and leave us to our fortune.
GIF. In such dilemma,

Believe me, friend, I 'd choose upon the instant→
But I lack harness, and a steed to charge on,
For mine is overtired, and, save my page,
There's not a man to back me. But I'll hie

AUCH. (draws him aside.) The stirrup-cup! He To Kyle, and raise my vassals to your aid.

doth not ride to-night

Shame on such churlish conduct to a kinsman!
PHI. (aside to his father.) I've news of pressing im-
port.

Send the fool off.-Stay, I will start him for you.
(To GIF.) Yes, my kind cousin, Burgundy is better,
On a night-ride, to those who thread our moors,
And we may deal it freely to our friends,
For we came freely by it. Yonder ocean
Rolls many a purple cask upon our shore,
Rough with embossed shells and shagged sea-weed,
When the good skipper and his careful crew
Have had their latest earthly draught of brine,
And gone to quench, or to endure their thirst,

PHI. '"Twill be when the rats,
That on these tidings fly this house of ours,
Come back to pay their rents.-(Apart.)

AUCH. Courage, cousin

Thou goest not hence ill mounted for thy need:
Full forty coursers feed in my wide stalls,
The best of them is yours to speed your journey.
PHI. Stand not on ceremony, good our cousin,
When safety signs, to shorten courtesy.
GIF. (to AUCH.) Farewell, then cousin, for my tar,