I love thy merit, and esteem thy virtues.
But whither go'st thou now?

Lord R. Straight to the camp,

Where every warrior on the tip-toe stands
Of expectation, and impatient asks
Each who arrives, if he is come to tell
The Danes are landed.

Lady R. O, may adverse winds,

Far from the coast of Scotland, drive their fleet!
And every soldier of both hosts return

In peace and safety to his pleasant home!

Lord R. Thou speak'st a woman's, hear a warrior's wish:

Right from their native land, the stormy north,
May the wind blow, till every keel is fix'd
Immoveable in Caledonia's strand!

Then shall our foes repent their bold invasion,
And roving armies shun the fatal shore.

Lady R. "War I detest: but war with foreign foes, "Whose manners, language, and whose looks are strange,

"Is not so horrid, nor to me so hateful,

"As that which with our neighbours oft we wage. "A river here, there an ideal line,

“By fancy drawn, divide the sister kingdoms.
"On each side dwells a people similar,

"As twins are to each other; valiant both;
"Both for their valour famous thro' the world.
"Yet will they not unite their kindred arms,
"And, if they must have war, wage distant war,

"But with each other fight in cruel conflict. "Gallant in strife, and noble in their ire, "The battle is their pastime. They go forth "Gay in the morning, as to summer sport; "When ev'ning comes, the glory of the morn, "The youthful warrior is a clod of clay. "Thus fall the prime of either hapless land; "And such the fruit of Scotch and English wars. "Lord R. I'll hear no more: this melody would make "A soldier drop his sword, and doff his arms, "Sit down and weep the conquests he has made; "Yea, (like a monk), sing rest and peace in heav'n "To souls of warriors in his battles slain."

Lady, farewel: I leave thee not alone;

Yonder comes one whose love makes duty light.

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[Exit.

Enter ANNA.

Anna. Forgive the rashness of your Anna's love :

Urg'd by affection, I have thus presum'd

To interrupt your solitary thoughts;

And warn you of the hours that you neglect,
And lose in sadness.

Lady R. So to lose my hours

Is all the use I wish to make of time.

Anna. To blame thee, lady, suits not with my state: But sure I am, since death first prey'd on man, Never did sister thus a brother mourn.

What had your sorrows been if you had lost,
In early youth, the husband of your heart?

Lady R. Oh!

Anna. Have I distress'd you with officious love,
And ill-tim'd mention of your brother's fate?
Forgive me, Lady: humble though I am,
The mind I bear partakes not of my fortune:
So fervently I love you, that to dry

These piteous tears, I'd throw my life away.

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Lady R. What power directed thy unconscious

tongue

To speak as thou hast done? to name

Anna. I know not:

But since my words have made my mistress tremble,

I will speak so no more: but silent mix

My tears with hers.

Lady R. No, thou shalt not be silent.

I'll trust thy faithful love, and thou shalt be
Henceforth th' instructed partner of my woes.
But what avails it? Can thy feeble pity
Roll back the flood of never-ebbing time?
Compel the earth and ocean to give up
Their dead alive?

Anna. What means my noble mistress?

Lady R. Did'st thou not ask what had my sorrows been,

If I in early youth had lost a husband ?—

In the cold bosom of the earth is lodg'd,

Mangl'd with wounds, the husband of my youth;

And in some cavern of the ocean lies

My child and his.

Anna. Oh! Lady most rever'd!

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The tale wrapt up in your amazing words
Deign to unfold.

Lady R. Alas! an ancient feud,

Hereditary evil, was the source

Of my misfortunes. Ruling fate decreed,
That my brave brother should in battle save
The life of Douglas' son, our house's foe:
The youthful warriors vow'd eternal friendship.
To see the vaunted sister of his friend,
Impatient, Douglas to Balarmo came,

Under a borrow'd name.-My heart he gain'd;
Nor did I long refuse the hand he begg'd :

My brother's presence authoris'd our marriage.
Three weeks, three little weeks, with wings of down,
Had o'er us flown, when my lov'd lord was call'd
To fight his father's battles; and with him,

In spite of all my tears, did Malcolm go.
Scarce were they gone, when my stern sire was told
That the false stranger was lord Douglas' son.
Frantic with rage, the baron drew his sword
And question'd me. Alone, forsaken, faint,
Kneeling beneath his sword, fault'ring I took
-An oath equivocal, that I ne'er would
Wed one of Douglas' name. Sincerity!
Thou first of virtues, let no mortal leave

Thy onward path, although the earth should gape,
And from the gulph of hell destruction cry,
To take dissimulation's winding way.

Anna. Alas! how few of woman's fearful kind
Durst own a truth so hardy!

Lady R. The first truth

Is easiest to avow. This moral learn,
This precious moral from my tragic tale.-
In a few days the dreadful tidings came

That Douglas and my brother both were slain.
My lord! my life! my husband !-mighty God!
What had I done to merit such affliction ?

Anna. My dearest lady! many a tale of tears
I've listen'd to; but never did I hear
A tale so sad as this.

Lady R. In the first days

Of my distracting grief, I found myself

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As women wish to be who love their lords.
But who durst tell my father? The good priest
Who join'd our hands, my brother's ancient tutor,
With his lov'd Malcolm, in the battle fell :
They two alone were privy to the marriage.
On silence and concealment I resolv'd,

Till time should make my father's fortune mine.
That very night on which my son was born,
My nurse, the only confident I had,

Set out with him to reach her sister's house:
But nurse, nor infant have I ever seen,

Or heard of, Anna, since that fatal hour.

"My murder'd child !—had thy fond Mother fear'd "The loss of thee, she had loud fame defy'd,

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Despis'd her father's rage, her father's grief,

“And wander'd with thee through the scorning

world."

Anna. Not seen nor heard of! then perhaps he lives.