And well it happens, since your leader seeks
This Quentin Blane, that you have fall'n on me;
None else can surely tell you where he hides,
Being in some fear, and bent to quit this province.
OFF. "Twill do our Earl good service. He has
sent

Despatches into Holland for this Quentin.

SER. I left him two hours since in yonder tower, Under the guard of one who smoothly spoke, Although he look'd but roughly-I will chide him For bidding me go forth with yonder traitor.

OFF. Assure yourself 'twas a concerted stratagem.
Montgomery's been at Holyrood for months,
And can have sent no letter-'twas a plan
On you and on your dollars, and a base one,
To which this Ranger was most likely privy;
Such men as he hang on our fiercer barons,
The ready agents of their lawless will;

Boys of the belt, who aid their master's pleasures,
And in his moods ne'er scruple his injunctions.
But haste, for now we must unkennel Quentin;
I've strictest charge concerning him.
SER. Go up, then, to the tower.

Or heard nought of them since?
ISA. Seen surely nothing, and I cannot think
That they have lot or share in what I heard.

I heard my mother praying, for the corpse-lights
Were dancing on the waves; and at one o'clock,
Just as the Abbey steeple toll'd the knell,
There was a heavy plunge upon the waters,
And some one cried aloud for mercy!-mercy!
It was the water-spirit, sure, which promised
Mercy to boat and fisherman, if we

Perform'd to-day's rites duly. Let me go-
I am to lead the ring.

OFF. (to SER.) Detain her not. She cannot tell us more;

To give her liberty is the sure way

To lure her parents homeward.-Strahan, take two men,

And should the father or the mother come,
Arrest them both, or either. Auchindrane
May come upon the beach; arrest him also,
But do not state a cause. I'll back again,
And take directions from my Lord Dunbar.

him

cur

Lounging and snoring, like a lazy cu
Before a stable door; it is his practice.

[The OFFICER goes up to the Tower, and after
knocking without receiving an answer, turns
the key which MARION had left in the lock,

the OFFICER follows.

OFF. There's no one in the house, this little maid ExceptedISA.

And for me, I'm there no longer,

And will not be again for three hours good:
I'm gone to join my playmates on the sands.

OFF. (detaining her.) You shall, when you have told

to me distinctly

Where are the guests who slept up there last night. ISA. Why, there is the old man, he stands beside you,

The merry old man, with the glistening hair;
He left the tower at midnight, for my father
Brought him a letter.

SER.

In ill hour I left you,
I wish to Heaven that I had stay'd with you;
There is a nameless horror that comes o'er me.-
Speak, pretty maiden, tell us what chanced next,
And thou shalt have thy freedom.

ISA. After you went last night, my father
Grew moody, and refused to doff his clothes,
Or go to bed, as sometimes he will do

When there is aught to chafe him. Until past midnight,

He wander'd to and fro, then call'd the stranger,
The gay young man, that sung such merry songs,
Yet ever look'd most sadly whilst he sung them,
And forth they went together.

Enter AUCHINDRANE meeting Philip.

AUCH. The devil's brought his legions to this beach,

That wont to be so lonely; morions, lances,
Show in the morning beam as thick as glowworms
At summer midnight.

PHI.
I'm right glad to see them,
Be they whoe'er they may, so they are mortal;
For I 've contended with a lifeless foe,
And I have lost the battle. I would give
A thousand crowns to hear a mortal steel
Ring on a mortal harness.

AUCH. How now!-Art mad, or hast thou done the

turn

The turn we came for, and must live or die by?
PHI. 'Tis done, if man can do it; but I doubt
If this unhappy wretch have Heaven's permission
To die by mortal hands.

AUCH. Where is he?-where's MacLellan ?
PHI.
In the deep-
Both in the deep, and what's immortal of them
Gone to the judgment-seat, where we must meet

them.

AUCH. MacLellan dead, and Quentin too?-So be it

To all that menace ill to Auchindrane,
Or have the power to injure him!-Thy words
Are full of comfort, but thine eye and look

Have in this pallid gloom a ghastliness,
Which contradicts the tidings of thy tongue.'
PHI. Hear me, old man-There is a heaven above

us,

As you have heard old Knox and Wishart preach,
Though little to your boot. The dreaded witness
Is slain, and silent. But his misused body
Comes right ashore, as if to cry for vengeance;
It rides the waters like a living thing,2

Erect, as if he trode the waves which bear him.

AUсH. Thou speakest frenzy, when sense is most required.

PHI. Hear me yet more !-I say I did the deed With all the coolness of a practised hunter When dealing with a stag. I struck him overboard, And with MacLellan's aid I held his head Under the waters, while the Ranger tied The weights we had provided to his feet. We cast him loose when life and body parted, And bid him speed for Ireland. But even then, As in defiance of the words we spoke, The body rose upright behind our stern, One half in ocean, and one balf in air, And tided after as in chase of us.3

AUCH. It was enchantment!-Did you strike at it?

PHI. Once and again. But blows avail'd no more Than on a wreath of smoke, where they may break The column for a moment, which unites And is entire again. Thus the dead body Sunk down before my oar, but rose unharm'd, And dogg'd us closer still, as in defiance. AUCH. Twas Hell's own work!— PHI. MacLellan then grew restive And desperate in his fear, blasphemed aloud, Cursing us both as authors of his ruin. Myself was wellnigh frantic while pursued By this dead shape, upon whose ghastly features The changeful moonbeam spread a grisly light; And, baited thus, I took the nearest way To ensure his silence, and to quell his noise; I used my dagger, and I flung him overboard, And half expected his dead carcass also

Would join the chase-but he sunk down at once.

AUCH. He had enough of mortal sin about him, To sink an argosy.

PHI. But now resolve you what defence to make, If Quentin's body shall be recognised;

For 'tis ashore already; and he bears

Marks of my handiwork; so does MacLellan.

AUCH. The concourse thickens still-Away, away! We must avoid the multitude. [They rush out.

SCENE III.

Scene changes to another part of the Beach. Children are seen dancing, and Villagers looking on. ISABEL seems to take the management of the Dance.

VIL. WOM. How well she queens it, the brave little maiden!

VIL. Ay, they all queen it from their very cradle, These willing slaves of haughty Auchindrane. But now I hear the old man's reign is ended;"Tis well-he has been tyrant long enough.

SECOND VIL. Finlay, speak low, you interrupt the sports.

THIRD VIL. Look out to sea-There's something coming yonder,

Bound for the beach, will scare us from our mirth.
FOURTH VIL. Pshaw, it is but a sea-gull on the
wing,
Between the wave and sky.

Between two or three weeks afterwards, when the King (of Naples) was on board the Foudroyant, a Neapolitan fisherman came to the ship, and solemnly declared, that Caraccioli had risen from the bottom of the sea, and was coming as fast as he could to Naples, swimming half out of the water. Such an account was listened to like a tale of idle credulity. The day being fair, Nelson, to please the King, stood out to sea; but the ship had not proceeded far before a body was distinctly seen, upright in the water, and approaching them. It was recognised indeed, to be the corpse of Caraccioli, which had risen and floated, while the great weights attached to the legs kept the body in a position like that of a living man. A fact so extraordinary astonished the King, and perhaps excited some feelings of superstitious fear, akin to regret. He gave permission for the body to be taken on shore, and receive Christian burial.”—Life of Nelson, chap. vi.

4 MS." And, baited by my slave, I used my dagger."

SER. Nothing that can affect the innocent child, But murder's guilt attaching to her father, Since the blood musters in the victim's veins At the approach of what holds lease from him Of all that parents can transmit to children. And here comes one to whom I'll vouch the circum

stance.

The EARL OF DUNBAR enters with Soldiers and others,
having AUCHINDRANE and PHILIP prisoners.
DUN. Fetter the young ruffian and his trait'rous
father!
[They are made secure.
AUCH. 'Twas a lord spoke it-I have known a
knight,

Sir George of Home, who had not dared to say so.
DUN. "Tis Heaven, not I, decides upon your guilt.
A harmless youth is traced within your power,
Sleeps in your Ranger's house-his friend at midnight
Is spirited away. Then lights are seen,
And groans are heard, and corpses come ashore
Mangled with daggers, while (to PHILIP) your dagger

wears

The sanguine livery of recent slaughter:
Here, too, the body of a murder'd victim,
(Whom none but you had interest to remove,)
Bleeds on a child's approach, because the daughter
Of one the abettor of the wicked deed.

All this, and other proofs corroborative,

stranger,

The Knight is great and powerful.

SER. Let it be so. Call'd on by Heaven to stand forth an avenger, I will not blench for fear of mortal man. Have I not seen that when that innocent Had placed her hands upon the murder'd body, His gaping wounds,' that erst were soak'd with brine, Burst forth with blood as ruddy as the cloud Which now the sun doth rise on? PEA. What of that?

We have in charge to utter.

AUCH. If my house perish, Heaven's will be done!
I wish not to survive it; but, O Philip,
Would one could pay the ransom for us both!
PHI. Father, 'tis fitter that we both should die,
Leaving no heir behind.-The piety

Of a bless'd saint, the morals of an anchorite,
Could not atone thy dark hypocrisy,

Or the wild profligacy I have practised.
Ruin'd our house, and shatter'd be our towers,
And with them end the curse our sins have merited !2

1 MS.-"His unblooded wounds," &c.