And used it sturdily.-Most reverend Father,
What say you to the chaplain's deed of arms
In the King's tent at Weardale?

AB. It was most sinful, being against the canon
Prohibiting all churchmen to bear weapons;
And as he fell in that unseemly guise,
Perchance his soul may rue it.

[Flourish of Trumpets, answered by a distant sound of Bugles.

See, Chandos, Percy-Ha, Saint George! Saint Ed

ward!

See it descending now, the fatal hail-shower,

The storm of England's wrath-sure, swift, resistless,

K. ED. (overhearing the last words.) Who may rue? Which no mail-coat can brook.-Brave English hearts! And what is to be rued? How close they shoot together!-as one eye

CHA. (apart.) I'll match his Reverence for the tithes Had aim'd five thousand shafts-as if one hand

of Everingham.

-The Abbot says, my Liege, the deed was sinful,
By which your chaplain, wielding secular weapons,
Secured your Grace's life and liberty,

And that he suffers for 't in purgatory.

Had loosed five thousand bow-strings!
PER.
The thick volley
Darkens the air, and hides the sun from us.

K. ED. It falls on those shall see the sun no

more.

K. ED. (to the ABBOT.) Say'st thou my chaplain is The winged, the resistless plague1 is with them. in purgatory?

AB. It is the canon speaks it, good my Liege.

K. ED. In purgatory! thou shalt pray him out on't,
Or I will make thee wish thyself beside him.

AB. My Lord, perchance bis soul is past the aid
Of all the Church may do-there is a place
From which there 's no redemption.

How their vex'd host is reeling to and fro,
Like the chafed whale with fifty lances in him,
They do not see, and cannot shun the wound.
The storm is viewless, as death's sable wing,
Unerring as his scythe.

PER. Horses and riders are going down together. "Tis almost pity to see nobles fall,

K. ED. And if I thought my faithful chaplain And by a peasant's arrow.
there,
BAL.

Thou shouldst there join him, priest !-Go, watch, fast, Although they are my rebels.
pray,

And let me have such prayers as will storm Heaven-
None of your maim'd and mutter'd hunting masses.
AB. (apart to CHA.) For God's sake take him off.
CHA. Wilt thou compound, then,

The tithes of Everingham?

K. ED. I tell thee, if thou bear'st the keys of
Heaven,

Abbot, thou shalt not turn a bolt with them
'Gainst any well-deserving English subject.

AB. (to CHA.) We will compound, and grant thee,
too, a share

I' the next indulgence. Thou dost need it much,
And greatly 'twill avail thee.

I could weep them,

CHA. (aside to PER.) His conquerors, he means, who cast him out

From his usurped kingdom.-(Aloud.) 'Tis the worst
of it,

That knights can claim small honour in the field
Which archers win, unaided by our lances.

K. ED. The battle is not ended. [Looks towards
the field.

Not ended?-scarce begun! What horse are these,
Rush from the thicket underneath the hill?

PER. They're Hainaulters, the followers of Queen
Isabel.

K. ED. (hastily.) Hainaulters!-thou art blind-
wear Hainaulters

CHA. Enough we're friends, and when occasion Saint Andrew's silver cross?—or would they charge

serves,

I will strike in.

[Looks as if towards the Scottish Army. K. ED. Answer, proud Abbot; is my chaplain's soul,

If thou knowest aught on 't, in the evil place?
CHA. My Liege, the Yorkshire men have gain'd the
meadow.

I see the pennon green of merry Sherwood.

K. ED. Then give the signal instant! We have lost

But too much time already.

AB. My Liege, your holy chaplain's blessed soulK. ED. To hell with it and thee! Is this a time To speak of monks and chaplains?

1 MS.-"The viewless, the resistless plague," &c.

2 The well-known expression by which Robert Bruce cen

Full on our archers, and make havoc of them?—
Bruce is alive again-ho, rescue! rescue!-
Who was❜t survey'd the ground?

RIBA. Most royal Liege

K. ED. A rose hath fallen from thy chaplet,*
Ribaumont.

RIBA. I'll win it back, or lay my head beside it.
[Exit.

K. ED. Saint George! Saint Edward! Gentlemen,
to horse,

And to the rescue!-Percy, lead the bill-men;
Chandos, do thou bring up the men-at-arms.-
If yonder numerous host should now bear down
Bold as their vanguard, (to the Abbot,) thou mayst
pray for us,

sured the negligence of Randolph, for permitting an English body of cavalry to pass his flank on the day preceding the battle of Bannockburn.

We may need good men's prayers.-To the rescue, Lords, to the rescue! ha, Saint George! Saint Edward!!

SCENE II.

For Edward's men-at-arms will soon be on us, The flower of England, Gascony, and Flanders; But with swift succour we will bide them bravely. [Exeunt. De Vipont, thou look'st sad? 3

A part of the Field of Battle betwixt the two Main Armies. Tumults behind the scenes; alarums, and cries of "Gordon, a Gordon," "Swinton," &c.

Enter, as victorious over the English vanguard,
VIPONT, REYNALD, and others.

VIP. It is because I hold a Templar's sword
Wet to the crossed hilt with Christian blood.
Swi. The blood of English archers—what can gild
A Scottish blade more bravely?

VIP. Even therefore grieve I for those gallant yeo

men,

England's peculiar and appropriate sons,

Known in no other land. Each boasts his hearth
And field as free as the best lord his barony,

VIP. 'Tis sweet to hear these war-cries sound to- Owing subjection to no human vassalage,
gether,-

Gordon and Swinton.

REY. 'Tis passing pleasant, yet 'tis strange withal.
Faith, when at first I heard the Gordon's slogan
Sounded so near me, I had nigh struck down
The knave who cried it.

Enter SWINTON and GORDON.

SwI. Pitch down my pennon in yon holly bush.
GOR. Mine in the thorn beside it; let them wave,
As fought this morn their masters, side by side.

SwI. Let the men rally, and restore their ranks
Here in this vantage-ground-disorder'd chase
Leads to disorder'd flight; we have done our part,
And if we're succour'd now, Plantagenet
Must turn bis bridle southward.--
Reynald, spur to the Regent with the basnet
Of stout De Grey, the leader of their vanguard;
Say, that in battle-front the Gordon slew him,
And by that token bid him send us succour.
GOR. And tell him that when Selby's headlong
charge

Had wellnigh born me down, Sir Alan smote him.
I cannot send his helmet, never nutshell
Went to so many shivers.-Harkye, grooms!

[To those behind the scenes.
Why do you let my noble steed stand stiffening
After so hot a course?

Save to their King and law. Hence are they resolute,
Leading the van on every day of battle,

As men who know the blessings they defend.
Hence are they frank and generous in peace,
As men who have their portion in its plenty.
No other kingdom shows such worth and happiness
Veil'd in such low estate-therefore I mourn them.
SwI. I'll keep my sorrow for our native Scots,
Who, spite of hardship, poverty, oppression,
Still follow to the field their Chieftain's banner,
And die in the defence on 't.

GOR. And if I live and see my halls again,
They shall have portion in the good they fight for.
Each hardy follower shall have his field,

His household hearth and sod-built home, as free
As ever Southron had. They shall be happy!—
And my Elizabeth shall smile to see it !—
I have betray'd myself.

Swi.
Do not believe it.--
Vipont, do thou look out from yonder height,
And see what motion in the Scottish host,
And in King Edward's.-

[Exit VIPONT Now will I counsel thee;

The Templar's ear is for no tale of love,
Being wedded to his Order. But I tell thee,
The brave young knight that hath no lady-love
Is like a lamp unlighted; his brave deeds,
And its rich painting, do seem then most glorious,

Swi. Ay, breathe your horses, they'll have work When the pure ray gleams through them.

anon,

1 "In the second act, after the English nobles have amused❘ themselves in some trifling conversation with the Abbot of Walthamstow, Edward is introduced; and his proud courageous temper and short manner are very admirably delineated; though, if our historical recollections do not fail us, it is more completely the picture of Longshanks than that of the third Edward. We conceive it to be extremely probable that Sir Walter Scott had resolved to commemorate some of the events in the life of Wallace, and had already sketched that hero, and a Templar, and Edward the First, when his eye glanced over the description of Homildon Hill, in Pinkerton's History of Scotland; that, being pleased with the characters of Swinton and Gordon, he transferred his Wallace to Swinton; and that, for the sake of retaining his portrait of Edward, as there happened to be a Gordon and a Douglas at the battle of Halidoun in the time of Edward the Third, and there was so much similarity in the circumstances of the contest, he preserved his Edward as Edward the Third,

Hath thy Elizabeth no other name? 5

retaining also his old Knight Templar, in defiance of the ana chronism."-Monthly Review, July, 1822.

2 The MS. adds-"such was my surprise."

3 "While thus enjoying a breathing time, Swinton observes the thoughtful countenance of De Vipont. See what follows. Were ever England and Englishmen more nobly, more beautifully, more justly characterized, than by the latter, or was patriotic feeling ever better sustained than by the former and his brave companion in arms?"—New Edinburgh Review.

4 "There wanted but a little of the tender passion to make this youth every way a hero of romance. But the poem has no ladies. How admirably is this defect supplied! In his enthusiastic anticipation of prosperity, he allows a name to escape him."-New Edinburgh Review.

5 "Amid the confusion and din of the battle, the reader is unexpectedly greeted with a dialogue, which breathes indeed the soft sounds of the lute in the clang of trumpets."-Monthly Review.

GOR. Must I then speak of her to you, Sir Alan?
The thought of thee, and of thy matchless strength,
Hath conjured phantoms up amongst her dreams.
The name of Swinton hath been spell sufficient
To chase the rich blood from her lovely cheek,
And wouldst thou now know hers?
Swi.

GOR. I penetrate thy purpose; but I go not.
SwI. Not at my bidding? I, thy sire in chivalry-
Thy leader in the battle ?--I command thee.

GOR. No, thou wilt not command me seek my

safety,

For such is thy kind meaning-at the expense

I would, nay must. Of the last hope which Heaven reserves for Scotland.
While I abide, no follower of mine

Thy father in the paths of chivalry,
Should know the load-star thou dost rule thy course Will turn his rein for life; but were I gone,

by.

GOR. Nay, then, her name is-hark

[Whispers.

SwI. I know it well, that ancient northern house.
GOR. O, thou shalt see its fairest grace and honour
In my Elizabeth. And if music touch thee-

SwI. It did, before disasters had untuned me.
GOR. O, her notes

Shall hush each sad remembrance to oblivion,
Or melt them to such gentleness of feeling,
That grief shall have its sweetness. Who, but she,
Knows the wild harpings of our native land?
Whether they lull the shepherd on his hill,

Or wake the knight to battle; rouse to merriment,
Or soothe to sadness; she can touch each mood.
Princes and statesmen, chiefs renown'd in arms,
And grey-hair'd bards, contend which shall the first
And choicest homage render to the enchantress.
SwI. You speak her talent bravely.
GOR.

What power can stay them? and, our band dispersed,
What swords shall for an instant stem yon host,
And save the latest chance for victory?

VIP. The noble youth speaks truth; and were he

gone,

There will not twenty spears be left with us.
GOR. No, bravely as we have begun the field,
So let us fight it out. The Regent's eyes,
More certain than a thousand messages,
Shall see us stand, the barrier of his host
Against yon bursting storm. If not for honour,
If not for warlike rule, for shame at least
He must bear down to aid us.
Swi.
Must it be so?
And am I forced to yield the sad consent,
Devoting thy young life? O, Gordon, Gordon !

I do it as the patriarch doom'd his issue;

I at my country's, he at Heaven's command;
But I seek vainly some atoning sacrifice,2
Though you smile, Rather than such a victim!-(Trumpets.) Hark,

I do not speak it half. Her gift creative,
New measures adds to every air she wakes;
Varying and gracing it with liquid sweetness,
Like the wild modulation of the lark;
Now leaving, now returning to the strain !
To listen to her, is to seem to wander
In some enchanted labyrinth of romance,
Whence nothing but the lovely fairy's will,"
Who wove the spell, can extricate the wanderer.
Methinks I hear her now!—

they come !

That music sounds not like thy lady's lute.

GOR. Yet shall my lady's name mix with it gaily.— Mount, vassals, couch your lances, and cry, "Gordon !

Gordon for Scotland and Elizabeth!"

[Exeunt. Loud Alarums.

SCENE III.

Another part of the Field of Battle, adjacent to the former Scene.

Alarums. Enter SWINTON, followed by
HOB HATTELY.

SwI. Stand to it yet! The man who flies to-day,
May bastards warm them at his household hearth!
HOB. That ne'er shall be my curse. My Magdalen
Is trusty as my broadsword.
Swi.

VIP. From the main English host come rushing Art thou dismounted too?
forward

Pennons enow-ay, and their Royal Standard.
But ours stand rooted, as for crows to roost on.
SwI. (to himself) I'll rescue him at least.-Young
Lord of Gordon,

Spur to the Regent-show the instant need

1 MS.-"And am I doom'd to yield the sad consent That thus devotes thy life?'

Ha, thou knave,

HOB.
I know, Sir Alan,
You want no homeward guide; so threw my reins
Upon my palfrey's neck, and let him loose.
Within an hour he stands before my gate;
And Magdalen will need no other token
To bid the Melrose Monks say masses for me.

2 MS.-"O, could there be some lesser sacrifice."

SwI. My lamp hath long been dim! But thine, O linger not !-1 'll be your guide to them.