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come :

And fly for refuge to this Cross MacDuff,

Re-enter NIKIAN.
For the Thane's sake he shall find sanctuary;
For here must the avenger's step be staid,

'Nin. Look to your watch, my brother ;-horsemen And here the panting homicide find safety. Wald. And here a brother of your order watches,

I heard their tread when kneeling in the chapel. To see the custom of the place observed ?

Wald. (looking to a distance.) My thoughts have Nin. Even so;-such is our convent's holy right,

rapt me more than thy devotion, Since Saint Magridius,-blessed be his memory!

Else had I heard the tread of distant horses Did by a vision warn the Abbot Eadmir.

Farther than thou couldst hear the sacring bell; And chief we watch, when there is bickering

But now in truth they come :-flight and pursuit Among the neighbouring nobles, now most likely.

Are sights I've been long strange to. From this return of Berkeley from abroad,

Nin. See how they gallop down the opposing hill! Having the Lindesay's blood upon his hand.

Yon grey steed bounding down the headlong path, Wald. The Lindesay, then, was loved among his As on the level meadow; while the black, friends ?

Urged by the rider with his naked sword, Nin. Honour'd and fear’d he was—but little loved; Stoops on his prey, as I have seen the falcon For even his bounty bore a show of steroness;

Dashing upon the heron-Thou dost frown And when his passions waked, he was a Sathan

And clench thy band, as if it grasp'd a weapon ? Of wrath and injury.

Wald. 'Tis but for shame to see a man fly thus Wald. How now, Sir Priest ! (fiercely)-Forgive me

While only one pursues him.-Coward, turn !(recollecting himsel1)-I was dreaming

Turn thee, I say! thou art as stout as he, Of an old baron, who did bear about him

And well mayst match thy single sword with hisSome touch of your Lord Reynold.

Shame, that a man should rein a steed like thee, Nin. Lindesay's name, my brother,

Yet fear to turn bis front against a foe!

I am ashamed to look on them.
Indeed was Reynold;—and methinks, moreover,
That, as you spoke even now, he would have spoken.

Nin. Yet look again,—they quit their horses now, I brought him a petition from our convent:

Unfit for the rough path :—the fugitive He granted straight, but in such tone and manner,

Keeps the advantage still.-They strain towards us.

Wald. I'll not believe that ever the bold Thane By my good saint! I thought myself scarce safe Till Tay rolld broad between us. I must now

Rear’d up his Cross to be a sanctuary Unto the chapel-meanwhile the watch is thine;

To the base coward, who shunn’d an equal combat.And, at thy word, the hurrying fugitive,

How's this ?—that look—that mien-mine eyes grow Should such arrive, must here find sanctuary ;


Nin. He comes :-thou art a novice on this watch :And, at thy word, the fiery-paced avenger Must stop his bloody course-e'en as swoln Jordan Brother, I'll take the word and speak to him. Controllid his waves, soon as they touch'd the feet Pluck down thy cowl;-know, that we spiritual chamOf those who bore the ark.

Have honour to maintain, and must not seem (pions Wald. Is this my charge?

To quail before the laity. Nin. Even so ;-and I am near, should chance re

(WALDHAVE lets down his coul, quire me.

and steps back. At midnight I relieve you on your watch,

When we may taste together some refreshment :
I have cared for it; and for a flask of wine-

Nin. Who art thou, stranger ? speak thy name and There is no sin, so that we drink it not

purpose. Until the midnight hour, when lauds have toll'd. Berk. I claim the privilege of Clan MacDuff. Farewell a while, and peaceful watch be with you! My name is Maurice Berkeley, and my lineage

(Exit towards the chapel. Allies me nearly with the Thane of Fife. Wald. It is not with me, and alas ! alas!

Nin. Give us to know the cause of sanctuary? I know not where to seek it. This monk's mind


Let him show it, Is with his cloister match’d, nor lacks more room.

Against whose violence I claim the privilege. Its petty duties, formal ritual,

Enter LINDESAY, with his sword drawn. He rushes at Its humble pleasures and its paltry troubles,

BERKELEY; NINIan interposes.
Fill up his round of life; even as some reptiles,
They say, are moulded to the very shape,

Nin. Peace, in the name of Saint Magridius !
And all the angles of the rocky crevice,

Peace, in our Prior's name, and in the name In which they live and die. But for myself,

Of that dear symbol, which did purchase peace Retired in passion to the narrow cell,

And good-will towards man! I do command thee Couching my tired limbs in its recesses,

To sheathe thy sword, and stir no contest here. So ill-adapted am I to its limits,


One charm I'll try first, That every attitude is agony.

To lure the craven from the enchanted circle How now! what brings him lack ?

Which he hatli harbour’d in.-Hear you, De Berkeley,

This is my brother's sword—the band it arms Art thou not moved yet ?
Is weapond to avenge a brother's death :-


Do not press me further. If thou hast heart to step a furlong off,

The hunted stag, even when he seeks the thicket, And change three blows,-even for so short a space Compellid to stand at bay, grows dangerous ! As these good men may say an ave-marie,

Most true thy brother perish'd by my hand,
So, Heaven be good to me! I will forgive thee And if you term it murder-I must bear it.
Thy deed and all its consequences.

Thus far my patience can; but if thou brand
Berk. Were not my right hand fetter'd by the thought The purity of yonder martyr'd saint,
That slaying thee were but a double guilt

Whom then my sword but poorly did avenge,
In which to steep my soul, no bridegroom ever With one injurious word, come to the valley,
Stepp'd forth to trip a ineasure with his bride And I will show thee how it shall be answer'd!
More joyfully than I, young man, would rush

Nin. This heat, Lord Berkeley, doth but ill accord To meet thy challenge.

With thy late pious patience. Lin. He quails, and shuns to look upon my weapon, Berk. Father, forgive, and let me stand excused Yet boasts himself a Berkeley!

To Heaven and thee, if patience brooks no more. Berk. Lindesay, and if there were no deeper cause I loved this lady fondly, truly lovedFor shunning thee than terror of thy weapon, Loved her, and was beloved, ere yet her father That rock-hewn Cross as soon should start and stir, Conferr'd her on another. While she lived, Because a shepherd-boy blow horn beneath it, Each thought of her was to my soul as hallow'd As I for brag of thine.

As those I send to Heaven ; and on her grave, Nin. I charge you both, and in the name of Heaven, Her bloody, early grave, while this poor hand Breathe no defiance on this sacred spot,

Can hold a sword, shall no one cast a scorn. [ress Where Christian men must bear them peacefully, Lin. Follow me. Thou shalt hear me call the adulteOn pain of the Church thunders. Calmly tell By her right name.—I'm glad there's yet a spur Your cause of difference; and, Lord Lindesay, thou Can rouse thy sluggard mettle. Be first to speak them.

Berk. Make then obeisance to the blessed Cross, Lin. Ask the blue welkin-ask the silver Tay, For it shall be on earth thy last devotion. The northern Grampians--all things know my wrongs;

[They are going off.. But ask not me to tell them, while the villain,

Wald. (rushing forward.) Madmen, stand !Who wrought them, stands and listens with a smile. Stay but one second-answer but one question.Nin. It is said

There, Maurice Berkeley, can'st thou look upon Since you refer us thus to general fame

That blessed sign, and swear thou'st spoken truth? That Berkeley slew thy brother, the Lord Louis, Berk. I swear by Heaven, In his own halls at Edzell

And by the memory of that murder’d innocent, Lin. Ay, in his halls

Each seeming charge against her was as false In his own halls, good father, that's the word. As our bless'd Lady's spotless. Hear, each saint! In his own halls he slew him, while the wine Hear me, thou holy rood! hear me from heaven, Pass'd on the board between ! The gallant Thane, Thou martyr'd excellence !-Hear me from penal fire, Who wreak’d Macbeth's inhospitable murder, (For sure not yet thy guilt is expiated !) Réar'd not yon Cross to sanction deeds like these. Stern ghost of her destroyer !

Berk. Thou say'st I came a guest!- I came a victiin, Wald. (throws back his cowl.) He hears ! he hears ! A destined victim, train'd on to the doom

Thy spell hath raised the dead. His frantic jealousy prepared for me.

Lin. My brother ! and alive!He fix'd a quarrel on me, and we fought.

Wald. Alive,—but yet, my Richard, dead to thee, Can I forget the form that came between us,

No tie of kindred binds me to the world; And perish'd by his sword ? 'Twas then I fought All were renounced, when, with reviving life, For vengeance, –until then I guarded life,

Came the desire to seek the sacred cloister.
But then I sought to take it, and prevail'd.

Alas, in vain ! for to that last retreat,
Lin. Wretch! thou didst first dishonour to thy Like to a pack of bloodhounds in full chase,
And then didst slay him!

(victini, My passion and my wrongs have follow'd me,
Berk. There is a busy fiend tugs at my heart, Wrath and remorse —and, to fill up the cry,
But I will struggle with it !-Youthful knight, Thou hast brought vengeance hither.
My heart is sick of war, my hand of slaughter;


I but sought I come not to my lordships, or my land,

To do the act and duty of a brother. But just to seek a spot in some cold cloister,

Wald. I ceased to be so when I left the world; Which I may kneel on living, and, when dead, But if he can forgive as I forgive, Which may suffice to cover me.

God sends me here a brother in mine enemy, Forgive me that I caused your brother's death; To pray for me and with me. If thou canst, And I forgive thee the injurious terms

De Berkeley, give thine hand.With which thou taxest me. [rer ! Berk. (gives his hand.)

It is the will Lin. Take worse and blacker.-Murderer, adulte- Of Heaven, made manifest in thy preservation,

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The first of these dramatic pieces was long since written, for the purpose of obliging the late Mr. Terry, then Manager of the Adelphi Theatre, for whom the Author had a particular regard. The manner in which the mimic goblins of Derorgoil are intermixed with the supernatural machinery, was found to be objectionable, and the production had other faults, which rendered it unfit for representation.' I have called the piece a Melo-drama, for want of a better name: but, as I learn from the unquestionable authority of Mr. Colman's Random Records, that one species of the drama is termed an extravaganza, I am sorry I was not sooner aware of a more appropriate name than that which I had selected for Devorgoil.

The Author's Publishers thought it desirable, that the scenes, long condemned to oblivion, should be united to similar attempts of the same kind; and in this, the first edition of the author's Poetical Works complete in one volume, it has accordingly been thought proper to place them immediately after Halidon Hill and MacDufr's Cross.

The general story of the Doom of Devorgoil is founded on an old Scottish tradition, the scene of wbich lies in Galloway. The crime supposed to have occasioned the misfortunes of this devoted house, is similar to that of a Lord Herries of Hoddam Castle, who is the principal personage of Mr. Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe's interesting ballad, in the Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, antè, p. 291. in remorse for his crime, he built the singular monument called the Tower of Repentance. In many cases the Scottish superstitions allude to the fairies, or those who, for sins of a milder description, are permitted to wander with the “rout that never rest," as they were termed by Dr. Leyden. They imitate human labour and haman amusements, but their toil is useless, and without any advantageous result; and their gaiety is unsubstantial and hollow. The phantom of Lord Erick is supposed to be a spectre of this character.

The story of the Ghostly Barber is told in many countries; but the best narrative founded on the passage, is the tale called Stummé Liebé, among the legends of Musæus. I think it has been introduced upon the English stage in some pantomime, wbich was one objection to bringing it upon

a second time.

FLORA enters from the Castle, looks timidly around, then

comes forward and speaks. He is not here—those pleasures are not ours Which placid evening brings to all things else.


The sun upon the lake is low,

The wild birds hush their song,
The hills have evening's deepest glow,

Yet Leonard tarries long.
Now all whom varied toil and care

From home and love divide,
In the calm sunset may repair

Each to the loved one's side. The noble dame, on turret high,

who waits her gallant knight, Looks lo the western beam to spy

The flash of armour bright.
The village maid, with hand on brow,

The level ray to shade,
Upon the footpath walches now

For Colin's darkening plaid.
Now to their mates the wild swans row,

By day they swam apart.
And to the thicket wanders slow

the scen

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* The author thought of omitting this song, which was, in fact, abridged into ono io Quentin Durward," termed County Guy. It seemed, however, necessary to the sense that the original stanzas should be retalned here,


The hind beside the hart.

Destined to dress our last of meals, but said not
The woodlark at his partner's side,
Twitters his closing song-

That the repast consisted of choice dainties,
All meet whom day and care divide,

Sent to our larder by that liberal suitor,
But Leonard tarries long.

The kind Melchisedek.
[KATLEEN has come out of the Castle while FLORA


Were famishing the word,
was singing, and speaks when the song is I'd famish ere I tasted them—the fop,

The fool, the low-born, low-bred, pedant coxcomb!
Kal. Ah, my dear coz !--if that your mother's niece Kat. There spoke the blood of long-descended sires!
May so presume to call your father's daughter, My cottage wisdom ought to echo back,-
All these fond things have got some home of comfort O the snug parsonage! the well-paid stipend!
To tempt their rovers back-the lady's bower, The yew-hedged garden! beehives, pigs, and poultry!
The shepherdess's hut, the wild swan's couch But, to speak honestly, the peasant Katleen,
Among the rushes, even the lark's low nest,

Valuing these good things justly, still would scorn
Has that of promise which lures home a lover, To wed, for such, the paltry Gullcrammer,
But we have nought of this.

As much as Lady Flora.
Flo. How call you, then, this castle of my sire,

Flo. Mock me not with a title, gentle cousin,
The towers of Devorgoil ?

Which poverty has made ridiculous.-
Kat. Dungeons for men, and palaces for owls;

[Trumpets far off. Yet no wise owl would change a farmer's barn

Hark! they have broken up the weaponshawing; For yonder hungry hall-our latest mouse,

The vassals are dismiss'd, and marching homeward.
Our last of mice, I tell you, has been found

Kat. Comes your sire back to-night?
Starved in the pantry; and the reverend spider,


He did purpose
Sole living tenant of the Baron's halls,

To tarry for the banquet. This day only,
Who, train'd to abstinence, lived a whole summer Summon'd as a king's tenant, he resumes
Upon a single fly, he's famish'd too;

The right of rank his birth assigns to him,
The cat is in the kitchen-chimney seated

And mingles with the proudest. Upon our last of fagots, destined soon


To return
To dress our last of suppers, and, poor soul,

To his domestic wretchedness to-morrow
Is starved with cold, and mewling mad with hunger. I envy not the privilege. Let us go
Flo. D’ye mock our misery, Katleen?

To yonder height, and see the marksmen practise : Kat. No, but I am hysteric on the subject, They shoot their match down in the dale beyond, So I must laugh or cry, and laughing's lightest.

Betwixt the Lowland and the Forest district,
Flo. Why stay you with us, then, my merry cousin? By ancient custom, for a tun of wine.
From you my sire can ask no filial duty.

Let us go see which wins.
Kat. No! thanks to Heaven,


That were too forward. No noble in wide Scotland, rich or poor,

Kat. Why, you may drop the screen before your face, Can claim an interest in the vulgar blood,

Which some chance breeze may haply blow aside That dances in my veins; and I might wed

Just when a youth of special note takes aim. A forester to-morrow, nothing fearing

It chanced even so that memorable morning, The wrath of high-born kindred, and far less

When, nutting in the woods, we met young Leonard;That the dry bones of lead-lapp'd ancestors

And in good time here coines bis sturdy comrade, Would clatter in their cerements at the tidings. The rough Lance Blackthorn.

Flo. My mother, too, would gladly see you placed Enter LANCELOT BLACKTHORN, a Forester, with the Beyond the verge of our unhappiness,'

Carcass of a Deer on his back, and a Gun in his hand. Which, like a witch's circle, blights and taints Whatever comes within it.


Save you, damsels! Kat.

Ah! my good aunt ! Kat. Godden, good yeoman.-Come you from the She is a careful kinswoman, and prudent,

weaponshaw? In all but marrying a ruin’d baron,

Black. Not I indeed; there lies the mark I shot at. When she could take her choice of honest yeomen;

(Lays down the Deer. And now, to balance this ambitious error,

The time has been I had not miss'd the sport, She presses on her daughter's love the suit

Although Lord Nithsdale's self had wanted venison; Of one, who hath no touch of nobleness,

But this same mate of mine, young Leonard Dacre, In manners, birth, or mind, to recommend him, Makes me do what he Jists;—he'll win the prize, Sage Master Gullcrammer, the new-dubb’d preacher. though : Flo. Do not name him, Katleen!

The Forest district will not lose its honour, Kal. Ay, but I must, and with some gratitude. And that is all I care for-(some shots are heard.) I said but now, I saw our last of fagots

I'll go see the issue.

[Hark! they're at it.

(MS.-" Beyond the circle of our wretchedness."}

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Leave not here

Except the driving of a piece of lead, -
The produce of your hunting.

As learned Master Gullcrammer defined it,Black.

But I must, though. Just through the middle of a painted board. This is his lair to-night, for Leonard Dacre

Black. And if he so define it, by your leave, Charged me to leave the stag at Devorgoil;

Your learned Master Gullcrammer's an ass. Then show me quickly where to stow the quarry, 3rd Vassal (angrily). He is a preacher, huntsman, And let me to the sports-(more shols.) Come, hasten, under favour.

[both be right. damsels!

2nd Vassal. No quarrelling, neighbours-you may Flo, It is impossible—we dare not take it.

Enter a FOURTH VASSAL, with a gallon stoup of wine. Black. There let it lie, then, and I'll wind my bugle, That all within these tottering walls may know 4th Vassal. Why stand you brawling here? Young That here lies venison, whoso likes to lift it.

Leonard Dacre

[About to blow. Has set abroach the tun of wine he gain'd, Kat. (to Flo.) He will alarm your mother; and, That all may drink who list. Blackthorn, I sought you; besides,

Your comrade prays you will bestow this flagon Our Forest proverb teaches, that no question



have left the deer you killed this morning. Should ask where venison comes from.

Black. And that I will; but first we will take toll Your careful mother, with her wonted prudence, To see if it's worth carriage. Shepherd, thy horn. Will hold its presence pleads its own apology There must be due allowance made for leakage, Come, Blackthorn, I will show you where to stow it. And that will come about a draught a-piece.

(Exeunt KATLEEN and BLACKTHORN into the Skink it about, and, when our throats are liquor'd,

Castlemore shooting-then a distant shout We'll merrily trowl our song of weaponshaw.
--Stragglers, armed in different ways, pass

[They drink about out of the SHEPHERD'S over the stage, as if from the Weaponshaw.

horn, and then sing. Flo. The prize is won; that general shout pro

claim'd it. The marksmen and the vassals are dispersing.

We love the shrill trumpet, we love the drum's rattle,

(She draws back. They call us to sport, and they call us to battle; 1st Vassal (a peasant). Ay, ay,—'tis lost and won,

And old Scotland shall laugh at the threats of a stranger,

While our comrades in pastime are comrades in danger. - the Forest have it. 'Tis they have all the luck on't.

If there's mirth in our house, 'tis our neighbour that shares il

Il peril approach, 'tis our neighbour that dares il; 2nd Vassal (a shepherd). Luck, sayst thou, man? And when we lead off to the pipe and the labor,

'Tis practice, skill, and cunning. (precisely, The fair hand we press is the hand of a neighbour. 3rd Vassal. 'Tis no such thing.-I had hit the mark

Then close your ranks, comrades, the bands that combine them, But for this cursed flint; and, as I fired,

Faith, friendship, and brotherhood, join'd to entwine them; A swallow cross'd mine eye too-Will you tell me

And we'll laugh at the threats of each insolent stranger, That that was but a chance, mine honest shepherd ?

While our comrades in sport are our comrades in danger. 1st Vassal. Ay, and last year, when Lancelot Black

Black. Well, I must do mine errand. Master slagon thorn won it,

(Shaking it. Because my powder happen'd to be damp,

Is too consumptive for another bleeding. Was there no luck in that?- The worse luck mine.

Shepherd. I must to my fold. 2nd Yussal. Still I say 'twas not chance; it might 3rd Vassal.

I'll to the butt of wine, be witchcraft.

[foresters And see if that has given up the ghost yet. 1st Vassal. Faith, not unlikely, neighbours; for these 1st Vassal. Have with you, neighbour. Do often haunt about this ruin'd castle.

(BLACKTHORN enters the Castle, the rest exeunt seI've seen myself this spark, -young Leonard Dacre,

verally. MelchISEDEK GULLCRAMMER watches Come stealing like a ghost ere break of day,

them off the stage, and then enters from the And after sunset, too, along this path ;

side-scene. His costume is a Geneva cloak And well you know the baunted towers of Devorgoil

and band, with a high-crowned hat; the rest Have no good reputation in the land. [say,–

of his dress in the fashion of James the Firsi's Shepherd. That have they not. I've heard my father

time. He looks to the windows of the Castle, Ghosts dance as lightly in its moonlight halls,

then draws back as if to escape observation,

while he brushes his cloak, drives the white As ever maiden did at midsummer

threads from his waistcoat with his wetted Upon the village-green.


thumb, and dusts his shoes, all with the air of 2nd Vassal. Those that frequent such spirit-haunted

one who would not willingly be observed enMust needs know more than simple Christians do.

gaged in these offices. He then adjusts his See, Lance this blessed moment leaves the castle,

collar and band, comes forward and speaks. And comes to triumph o'er us.

Gull. Right comely is thy garb, Melchisedek; [BLACKTHORN enters from the Castle, and As well beseemeth one, whom good Saint Mungo,

comes forward while they speak. The patron of our land and university, 3rd Vassal. A mighty triumph! What is't, after all, Hath graced with license both to teach and preach

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