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In honour of the Ocean. Old men say

The custom is derived from heathen times. Our

Gramercy, halberd !

And well it happens, since your leader seeks
Is mistress of the feast, and you may think

This Quentin Blane, that you have fall'n on ine; She is awake already, and impatient

None else can surely tell you where he hides, To be the first shall stand upon the beach,

Being in some fear, and bent to quit this province. And bid the sun good-morrow.


'Twill do our Earl good service. He has sent Ay, indeed?

Despatches into Holland for this Quentin.
Linger such dregs of heathendom among you ?
And hath Knox preach'd, and Wishart died, in vain ? I left him two hours since in yonder tower,

Take notice, I forbid these sinful practices,
And will not have my followers mingle in them.

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.
If such your honour's pleasure, I must go,
And lock the door on Isabel ; she is wilful,
And voice of mine will have small force to keep her Assure yourself 'twas a concerted stratagem.
From the amusement she so long has dream'd of. Montgomery's been at Holyrood for months,
But I must tell your honour, the old people,

And can have sent no letter---'twas a plan That were survivors of the former race,

On you and on your dollars, and a base one, Prophesied evil if this day should pass

To which this Ranger was most likely privy; Without due homage to the mighty Ocean.

Such men as he hang on our fiercer barons,

The ready agents of their lawless will; Folly and Papistry-Perhaps the ocean

Boys of the belt, who aid their master's pleasures,

And in his moods ne'er scruple his injunctions. Haih had his morning sacrifice already; Or can you think the dreadful element,

But haste, for now we must unkennel Quentin ; Whose frown is death, whose roar the dirge of

I've strictest charge concerning him. navies, Will miss the idle pageant you prepare for ?

Go up, then, to the tower. I've business for you, too--the dawn advances You've younger limbs than mine-there shall you I'd have thee lock thy little child in safety,

find him And get to Auchindrane before the sun rise ; Lounging and snoring, like a lazy cur 'Tell them to get a royal banquet ready,

Before a stable door: it is his practice. As if a king were coming there to feast him.

(The Ofricer goes up to the Tower, and after

knocking without receiving on answer, turns MARION. I will obey your pleasure. But my husband

the key which_MARION had left in the lock, and enters ; Isabel, dressed as if for her

dance, runs oul, and descends to the Stage ; I wait him on the beach, and bring him in

the OFFICER follows. To share the banquet.

There's no one in the house, this little maid
But he has a friend,

Whom it would ill become him to intrude

Upon your hospitality,

And for me, I'm there no longer,

And will not be again for three hours good :
Fear not; his friend shall be made welcome too, I'm gone to join my playmates on the sands.
Should he return with Niel.

OFFICER (delaining her.)

You shall, when you have told to me distinctly He must-he will return-he has no option. Where are the guests who slept up there last night.

AUCHINDRANE. [Apart.] Thus rashly do we deem of others' des- Why, there is the old man, he stands beside you, tiny

The merry old man, with the glistening hair ; He has indeed no option-but he comes not. He left the tower at midnight, for my father Begone on thy commission-I go this way

Brought him a letter. To meet thy husband.

[MARION goes to her Tower, and after entering it is seen to come out, lock the door, and I wish to Heaven that I had stay'd with you :

In ill hour I left you, leave the Stage, as if to execute Auchin. There is a nameless horror that comes o'er me. DRANE's commission. He apparently going off in a different direction, has watched her Speak, pretty maiden, tell us what chanced next, from the side of the Stage, and on her de. And thou shalt have thy freedom. parture speaks.


After you went last night, my father
Fare thee well, fond woman,

Grew moody, and refused to doff his clothes,
Most dangerous of spies--thon prying, prating,

Or go to bed, as sometimes he will do Spying, and telling woman! I've cut short

When there is aught to chafe him. Until past midThy dangerous testimony-hated word !

night, What other evidence have we cut short,

He wander'd to and fro, then call'd the stranger, And by what fated means, this dreary morning!

The gay young man, that sung such merry songs, Brighi lances here and helmets ?-I must shift

Yet ever look'd most sadly whilst he sung them, To join the others.


And forth they went together. Enter from the other side the SERGEANT, accompa

OFFICER. nied with an Officer and two Pikemen.

And you've seen

Or heard naught of them since ? 'Twas in good time you came; a minute later

The knaves had ta'en my dollars and my life.

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 You fought most stoutly. Two of them were down, Were dancing on the waves; and at one o'clock, Ere we came to your aid.

Just as the Abbey steeple toll'd the knell, Vol. 1.-4 T




13 ABEL.








There was a heavy plunge upon the waters,

AUCHINDRANE. And some one cried aloud for mercy !--mercy! Thou speakest frenzy, when sense is most required. 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

Hear me yet more !-1 say I did the deed

With all the coolness of a practised hunter I am to lead the ring.

When dealing with a stag. I struck him overboard, OFFICER (to SERGEANT.)

And with MacLellan's and I held his bead Detain her not. She cannot tell us more;

Under the waters, while the Ranger tied To give her liberty is the sure way

The weights we had provided to his feet. To lure her parents homeward.-Strahan, take two We cast him loose when life and body parted, men,

And bid him speed for Ireland. But even then, And should the father or the mother come,

As in defiance of the words we spoke, Arrest them both, or either. Auchindrane

The body rose upright behind our stern May come upon the beach ; arrest him also, One half in ocean, and one half in air, But do not state a cause. I'll back again,

And tided after as in chase of us.. And take directions from my Lord Dunbar.

AUCHINDRANE. Keep you upon the beach, and have an eye

It was enchantment!-Did you strike at it?
To all that passes there. (Exeunt, separately.

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 Scene changes to a remote and rocky part of the Sea | And is entire again. Thus the dead body beach. Enter AUCHINDRANE meeting PHILIP. Sunk down before my oar, but rose unharm'd

And dogg'd us closer still, as in defiance.
The devil's brought his legions to this beach,

That wont to be so lonely; morions, lances, 'Twas Hell's own work !-
Show in the morning beam as thick as glowworms
At summer midnight.

MacLellan then grew restive

And desperate in his fear, blasphemed aloud,
I'm right glad to see them, Cursing us both as authors of his ruin.
Be they whoe'er they may, so they are mortal ; Myself was wellnigh frantic while pursued
For I've contended with a lifeless foe,

By this dead shape, upon whose ghasily features And I have lost the battle. I would give

The changeful moonbeam spread a grisly light; A thousand crowns to hear a mortal steel

And, baited thus, I took the nearest ways Ring on a mortal harness.

To ensure his silence, and to quell his noise;

I used my dagger, and I fung him overboard,

And half expected his dead carcass also
How now !-Art mad, or hast thou done the turn-

Would join the chase – but he sunk down at once. The turn we came for, and must live or die by? 'Tis done, if man can do it; but I doubt

He had enough of mortal sin about him,

To sink an argosy.
If this unhappy wretch have Heaven's permission
To die by mortal hands.


But now resolve you what defence to make, Where is he?-where's MacLellan ?

If Quentin's body shall be recognised ;

For 'tis ashore already; and he bears

Marks of my handiwork ; so does MacLellan.
In the deep-

Both in the deep, and what's immortal of them
Gone to the judgment-seat, where we must meet| We must avoid the multitude.

The concourse thickens suill-Away, away!

(They rush out. AUCHINDRANE. MacLellan dead, and Quentin too ?--So be it

To all that menace ill to Auchindrane,
Or have the power to injure him !-Thy words

Scene changes to another part of the Beach. Chile Are full of comfort, but thine eye and look

dren are seen dancing, and Villagers looking on. Have in this pallid gloom a ghastliness,

ISABEL seems to take the management of the Which contradicts the tidings of thy tongrie.*

Hear me, old man-There is a heaven above us,

How well she queens it, the brave little maiden!
As you have heard old Knox and Wishart preach,
Though little to your boot. The dreaded witness

VILLAGER. Is slain, and silent. But his misused body

Ay, they all queen it from their very cradle, Comes right ashore, as if to cry for vengeance;

These willing slaves of haughty Auchindrane. It rides the waters like a living thing,

But now I hear the old man's reign is ended ; Erect, as if he trode the waves which bear him. 'Tis well-he has been tyrant long enough.





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-" This man's brow, like to a title leaf,

weighing two hundred and fifty pounds, tied to its lers. Between Foretells the nature of a tragic volume ;

two three weeks afterwards, when the King (of Naples) was Thou tremblest; and the whiteness in thy cheek

on board the Foudroyant, a Neapolitan fisherman came to the ship. Is apter than thy tongue to tell thy errand."

and folemnly declared, that Caruccioli had risen from the bottom 2d King Henry IV.) of the sea, and was coming as fast as he could to Naples, swim

ming half out of the water. Such an account was listened to +" Walks the waters like a thing of life.”

like a tale of idle credulity. The day being fair, Nelson, to please BYRON-The Corsair.)

tho King, stood out to sea; but the ship had not proceeded far be 1 (This passage was probably suggested by a striking one in fore a body was distinctly seen, upright in the water, and approach Southey's Life of Nelson, touching the corpse of the Neapolitan ing them. It was recognised to be, indeed, the corpse of Carae. Prince Caraccioli, executed on board the Foudroyant, then the cioli, which had risen and floated, while the great weights atgreat British Admiral's flag-ship, in the bay of Naples in 1799. tached to the lege kept the body in a position like that of a living The circumstances of Caraccioli's trial and death form, it is al

A fact so extraordinary astonished the King, and perhaps most needless to observe, the most unpleasant chapter in Lord excited some feelings of superstitious fear, akin to regret. He Nelson's history :

gave permission for the body to be taken on shore, and receive “The body," says Bouthey," was carried out to a considerable Christian burial."--Life of Nelson, chap. vi.). distance and sunk in the bay, with three double-headed shot, (M8.-"And, baited by my slave, I used my dagger.")





SERGEANT. Finlay, speak low, you interrupt the sports.

Let it be so.

Call'd on by Heaven to stand forth an avenger, THIRD VILLAGER. Look out to sea- There's something coming yonder, I will not blench for fear of mortal man. Bound for the beach, will scare us from our mirth.

Have I not seen that when that innocent

Had placed her hands upon the murder'd body, FOURTH VILLAGER.

His gaping wounds,* that erst were soak'd with Pshaw, it is but a sea-gull on the wing,

brine, Between the wave and sky.

Burst forth' with blood as ruddy as the cloud

Which now the sun doth rise on?
Thou art a fool,
Standing on solid land-'tis a dead body.

What of that?
And if it be, he bears him like a live one,

Not prone and weltering like a drown'd corpse,

Nothing that can affect the innocent child, But bolt erect, as if he trode the waters,

But murder's guilt attaching to her father, And used them as his path.

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.
It is a merman,

And here comes one to whom I'll vouch the circumAnd nothing of this earth, alive or dead.

(By degrees all the Dancers break off from

their sport, and stand gazing to seaward, The EARL OF DUNBAR enters with Soldiers and
while an object, imperfectly seen, drifts to others, having AUCHINDRANE and Philip pri-
wards the Beach, and at length arrives
among the rocks which border the tide.


Fetter the young ruffian and his trait'rous father! Perhaps it is some wretch who needs assistance;

[They are made secure. Jasper, make in and see.


'Twas a lord spoke it-I have known a knight, Not I, my friend;

Sir George of Home, who had not dared to say so. E'en take the risk yourself, you'd put on others. (HILDEBRAND has entered, and heard the two

DUNBAR. last words.

'Tis Heaven, not I, decides upon your guilt.

A harmless youth is traced within your power, SERGEANT. What, are you men ?

Sleeps in your Ranger's house-his friend at mid. Fear ye to look on what you must be one day?

night I, who have seen a thousand dead and dying Is spirited away. Then lights are seen, Within a flight-shot square, will teach you how in And groans are heard, and corpses come ashore

Mangled with daggers, while (to PHILIP) your dagwar We look upon the corpse when life has left it.

ger wears
(He goes to the back scene, and seems attempt- The sanguine livery of recent slaughter :

ing to turn the body, which has come ashore Here, too, the body of a murder'd victim,
with its face doronwards.

(Whom none but you had interest to remover) Will none of you come aid to turn the body?

Bleeds on a child's approach, because the daughter

Of one the abettor of the wicked deed.

All this, and other proofs corroborative,
You're cowards all.-I'll help thee, good old man.

Call on us briefly to pronounce the doom
[She goes to aid the Sergeant with the body, We have in charge to utter.
and presently gires a cry, and faints.
HILDEBRAND comes forward. All crowd
round him; he speaks with an erpression If my house perish, Heaven's will be done!
of horror.

I wish not to survive it; but, O Philip,

Would one could pay the ransom for us both! SERGEANT. 'Tis Quentin Blane! Poor youth, his gloomy bodings Have been the prologue to an act of darkness;

ather, 'tis fitter that we both should die, His feet are manacled, his bosom stabb’d,

Leaving no heir behind.-The piety And he is foully murder'd. The proud Knight Of a bless'd saint, the morals of an anchorite, And his dark Ranger must have done this deed, Could not atone thy dark hypocrisy, For which no common ruffian could have motive. Or the wild profligacy I have practised.

Ruin'd our house, and shatter'd be our towers, A PEASANT.

And with them end the curse our sins have merited !t Caution were best, old man-Thou art a stranger,

[Exeunt. The Knight is great and powerful.

of Waverley. The verse, too, is more rough, natural, and MS.-" His unblooded wounds, &c.)

nervous, than that of 'Halidon Hill;' but, noble as the effort * ("The poet, in his play of Auchindrane, displayed real tra was, it was eclipsed so much by his splendid romances, that the gic power, and soothed all those who cried out before for a more public still

complained that he had not done his best, and that direct story, and less of the retrospective. Several of the scenes his genius was not dramatic."-ALLAN CUNNINGHAM-Atheare conceived and executed with all the powers of the best parts | naum, 14th Dec., 1833. )





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