Reg. We'll keep the hill; it is the vantage ground
When the main battle joins.

Swin. A poor knight of these marches, good my
lord;
Alan of Swinton, who hath kept a house here,
He and his ancestry, since the old days
Of Malcolm, called the maiden.

Swin. It ne'er will join, while their light archery
Can foil our spear-men and our barbed horse.
To hope Plantagenet would seek close combat

Reg. You have brought here, even to this pitch- When he can conquer riskless, is to deem
Sagacious Edward simpler than a babe
In battle-knowledge. Keep the hill, my lord,
With the main body, if it is your pleasure;
But let a body of your chosen horse
Make execution on yon waspish archers.
I've done such work before, and love it well;
If 'tis your pleasure to give me the leading,
The dames of Sherwood, Inglewood, and Weardale,
Shall sit in widowhood and long for venison,
And long in vain. Whoe'er remembers Bannock-
burn,-

ed field,

In which the royal banner is display'd,
I think, some sixty spears, sir knight of Swinton:
Our musters name no more.

Swin. I brought each man I had; and chief, or
earl,

Thane, duke, or dignitary, brings no more:
And with them brought I what may here be use-
ful-

An aged eye, which, what in England, Scotland,
Spain, France, and Flanders, hath seen fifty battles,
And ta'en some judgment of them; a stark hand too,
Which plays as with a straw with this same

And when shall Scotsman, till the last loud trumpet,
Forget that stirring word!-knows that great battle
Even thus was fought and won.

Len. This is the shortest road to bandy blows;
For when the bills step forth and bows go back,
Swin-Then is the moment that our hardy spearmen,
With their strong bodies, and their stubborn hearts,
And limbs well knit by mountain exercise,

At the close tug shall foil the short-breathed south

ron.

Swin. I do not say the field will thus be won; The English host is numerous, brave, and loyal; Their monarch most accomplish'd in war's art, Skill'd, resolute, and wary

Reg. And if your scheme secure not victory, What does it promise us?

mace,

Which if a young arm here can wield more lightly,
I never more will offer word of counsel.

Len. Hear him, my lord; it is the noble

ton

He hath had high experience.

Max.
He is noted
The wisest warrior 'twixt the Tweed and Solway,-
I do beseech you hear him.

John. Ay, hear the Swinton-hear stout old sir
Alan;

Maxwell and Johnstone both agree for once.
Reg. Where's your impatience now?
Late you were all for battle, would not hear
Ourselves pronounce a word-and now you gaze
On yon
old warrior, in his antique armour,
As if he were arisen from the dead,

To bring us Bruce's counsel for the battle.
Swin. 'Tis a proud word to eak; but he who

fought Long under Robert Bruce, may something guess, Without communication with the dead, At what he would have counsell'd.--Bruce had bidden ye

Review your battle-order, marshall'd broadly
Here on the bare hill-side, and bidden you mark
Yon clouds of southron archers, bearing down
To the green meadow-lands which stretch be-

neath

The Bruce had warn'd you, not a shaft to-day
But shall find mark within a Scottish bosom,
If thus our field be order'd. The callow boys,
Who draw but four-foot bows, shall gall our front,
While on our mainward, and upon the rear,
The cloth-yard shafts shall fall like death's own
darts,

Swin.
This much at least,--
Darkling we shall not die; the peasant's shaft,
Loosen'd perchance without an aim or purpose,
Shall not drink up the life-blood we derive
From those famed ancestors, who made their breasts
This frontier's barrier for a thousand years.
We'll meet these southrons bravely hand to hand,
And eye to eye, and weapon against weapon;
Each man who falls shall see the foe who strikes

faithful,

Blow shall meet blow, and none fall unavenged—

We shall not bleed alone.

Reg.
And this is all
Your wisdom hath devised!

Swin. Not all; for I would pray you, noble lords,
(If one, among the guilty guiltiest, might,)
For this one day to charm to ten hours' rest
The never-dying worm of deadly feud,
That gnaws our vexed hearts-think no one foe
Save Edward and his host-days will remain,
Ay, days by far too many will remain,

And, tho' blind men discharge them, find a mark.
Thus shall we die the death of slaughter'd deer,
Which, driven into the toils, are shot at ease
By boys and women, while they toss aloft
All idly and in vain their branchy horns,
As we shall shake our unavailing spears.

To avenge old feuds or struggles for precedence;
Let this one day be Scotland's. For myself,
If there is any here may claim from me

Reg. Tush, tell not me! If their shot fall like (As well may chance) a debt of blood and hatred,
My life is his to-morrow unresisting,
So he to-day will let me do the best
That my old arm may achieve for the dear country

hail,

That's mother to us both.

Our men have Milan coats to bear it out.

Swin. Never did armourer temper steel on stithy
That made sure fence against an English arrow;
A cobweb gossamer were guard as good
Against a wasp-sting.

Reg. Who fears a wasp-sting?
Swin.
1, my lord, fear none;
Yet should a wise man brush the insect off,
Or he may smart for it.

him.

While our good blades are faithful to the hilts,
And our good hands to these good blades are

[GORDON shows much emotion during this and the preceding speech of SWINTON. Reg. It is a dream-a vision!-If one troop Rush down upon the archers, all will follow, And order is destroy'd-we'll keep the battle-rank Our fathers wont to do. No more on't.-Ho!

Where be those youths seek knighthood from our
sword?

Her. Here are the Gordon, Somerville, and Hay,
And Hepburn, with a score of gallants more.
Reg. Gordon, stand forth.
Gor.
I pray your grace, forgive me.
Reg. How! seek you not for knighthood?
Gor.
I do thirst for't.
But, pardon me-'tis from another sword.
Reg. It is your sovereign's-seek you for a
worthier?

Gor. Who would drink purely, seeks the secret fountain,

How small soever-not the general stream,
Though it be deep and wide. My lord, 1 seek
The boon of knighthood from the honour'd weapon
Of the best knight, and of the sagest leader,
That ever graced a ring of chivalry.
-Therefore, I beg the boon on bended knee,
Even from sir Alan Swinton.

[Kneels.

Reg. Degenerate boy! Abject at once and insolent!

See, lords, he kneels to him that slew his father! Gor. (starting up.) Shame be on him who speaks such shameful word!

Shame be on him whose tongue would sow dissension,

When most the time demands that native Scots

men

Forget each private wrong!

Swin. (interrupting him.) Youth, since you crave

Crave the lord regent's pardon.

Gor. You task me justly, and I crave his pardon,
[Bows to the REGENT.
His and these noble lords'; and pray them all
Bear witness to my words.--Ye noble presence,
Here I remit unto the knight of Swinton
All bitter memory of my father's slaughter,
All thoughts of malice, hatred, and revenge;
By no base fear or composition moved,
But by the thought, that in our country's battle
All hearts should be as one. I do forgive him
As freely as I pray to be forgiven,
And once more kneel to him to sue for knighthood.
Swin. (affected, and drawing his sword.) Alas!
brave youth, 'tis I should kneel to you,
And, tendering thee the hilt of the fell sword
That made thee fatherless, hid thee use the point
After thine own discretion. For thy boon-
Trumpets be ready--In the holiest name,
And in our lady's and saint Andrew's name,
[Touching his shoulder with the sword.
I dub thee knight! Arise, sir Adam Gordon!
Be faithful, brave, and O be fortunate,
Should this ill hour permit!

[The trumpets sound; the heralds cry, "Largessee;" and the attendants shout, "A Gordon! A Gordon!", Reg. Beggars and flatterers! Peace, peace, I say!

With his old pedigree and heavy mace,
Essay the adventure if it pleases him,
With his fair threescore horse. As for ourselves,
We will not peril aught upon the measure.

We'll to the standard: knights shall there be made
Who will with better reason crave your clamour.
Len. What of Swinton's council?
Here's Maxwell and myself think it worth noting.
Reg. (with concentrated indignation.) Let the
best knight, and let the sagest leader,-
So Gordon quotes the man who slew his father,-

Gor. Lord regent, you mistake; for if sir Alan
Shall venture such attack, each man who calls
The Gordon chief, and hopes or fears from him
Or good, or evil, follows Swinton's banner
In this achievement.

Reg. Why, God ha' mercy! This is of a piece. Let young and old e'en follow their own counsel, Since none will list to mine.

Ross. The border cockerel fain would be on
horseback:

"Tis safe to be prepared for fight or flight:
And this comes of it to give northern lands

To the false Norman blood.

Gor. Hearken, proud chief of Isles! Within my
stalls

I have two hundred horse; two hundred riders
Mount guard upon my castle, who would tread
Into the dust a thousand of your redshanks,
Nor count it a day's service.
Swin.

Hear I this

From thee, young man, and on the day of battle!
And to the brave Mac-Donnell?

me

To be your sire in chivalry, I remind you
War has its duties, office has its reverence;
Who governs in the sovereign's name is sove-I
reign,

Gor. 'Twas he that urged me; but I am rebuked.
Reg. He crouches like a leash-hound to his

master!

Swin. Each hound must do so that would head the deer

'Tis mongrel curs which snatch at mate or master. Reg. Too much of this.-Sirs, to the royal

standard!

bid you, in the name of good king David, Sound trumpets--sound for Scotland and king

David!

[The REGENT and the rest go off, and the scene closes. Manent GORDON, SWINTON, and VIPONT, with REYNALD and followers. LENNOX follows the REGENT; but returns and addresses SWINTON.

Len. O, were my western horsemen but come

up,

I would take part with you!

Swin.
Better that you remain.
They lack discretion; such gray head as yours
May best supply that want.
Lennox, mine ancient friend, and honour'd lord,
Farewell, I think, forever!

Len. Farewell, brave friend!—and farewell, no-
ble Gordon,
Whose sun will be eclipsed even as it rises!
The regent will not aid you.

Swin. We will so bear us, that as soon the
blood-hound

Shall halt, and take no part, what tiine his comrade
Is grapling with the deer, as he stand still,
And see us overmatch'd.

Len. Alas! thou dost not know how mean his
pride is,
How strong his envy.

Swin. Then will we die, and leave the shame
with him.
[Exit LENNOX.
Vip. (to GORDON.) What ails thee, noble youth?
What means this pause?
Thou dost not rue thy generosity?

Gor. I have been hurried on by a strong impulse,
Like to a bark that scuds before the storm,
Till driven upon some strange and distant coast,
Which never pilot dream'd of. Have I not forgi
ven?

be.

O, for a well-skill'd guide!

HOB HATTELY starts up from a thicket. Hob. So here he stands.-An ancient friend, sir When the steel boot is doff'd.

'Alan.

Per.
Bravely, bravely!

Chan. O, I will prove it, sir!-These skipping
Scots

Have changed a dozen times 'twixt Bruce and
Baliol,

Quitting each house when it began to totter:
They're fierce and cunning, treacherous, too, as

rats,

And we, as such, will smoke them in their fast

nesses.

K. Ed. These rats have seen your back, my lord of Chandos,

And noble Percy's too.

Per. Ay; but the mass which now lies weltering
Ou yon hill side, like a Leviathan
That's stranded on the shallows, then had soul in't,
Order and discipline, and power of action.
Now 'tis a headless corpse, which only shows,
By wild convulsions, that some life remains in't.
K. Ed. True, they had once a head; and 'twas
a wise
Although a rebel head.

Ab. (bowing to the KING.) Would he were here!
we should find one to match him.

K. Ed. There's something in that wish which wakes an echo

Within my bosom. Yet it is as well,
Or better, that the Bruce is in his grave.
We have enough of powerful foes on earth,
No need to summon them from other worlds.

Per. Your grace ne'er met the Bruce?

K. Ed. Never himself; but, in my earliest field,
I did encounter with his famous captains,
Douglas and Randolph. Faith! they press'd me

hard.

Ab. My liege, if I might urge you with a question, Will the Scots fight to-day?

And slept not in mine armour: my safe rest
Was startled by the cry of Douglas! Douglas!
And by my couch, a grisly chamberlain,
Stood Alan Swinton, with his bloody mace.
It was a churchman saved me-my stout chaplain,
Heaven quit his spirit! caught a weapon up,
And grappled with the giant.-How now, Louis?
Enter an officer, who whispers the KING.
K. Ed. Say to him,-thus-and thus-

(Aloud.) I have used that arm of flesh,
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.

King. (overhearing the last words.) Who may
rue?

And what is to be rued?

Chan. (apart.) I'll match his reverence for the tithes 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.

K. Ed. (sharply.) Go look your breviary.
Chan. (apart.) The abbot has it-Edward will

not answer

On that nice point. We must observe his humour.-
Addresses the KING.
Your first campaign, my liege?-That was in
Weardale,

I'

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

When Douglas gave our camp yon midnight ruffle,
And turn'd men's beds to biers.

Chan. Enough we're friends, and when occa-
sion serves,

I will strike in.——

K. Ed. Ay, by saint Edward!-I escaped right nearly.

1 was a soldier then for holidays,

[Looks as if towards the Scottish army. King. Answer, proud abbot, is my chaplain's soul,

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

You might have cause to know that Swinton lives,
And is on horseback yet.

Chan.
He slew the Gordon,
That's all the difference-a very trifle.
Ab. Trifling to those who wage a war more noble
Than with the arm of flesh.

Chan. (apart.) The abbot's vex'd, I'll rub the

sore for him.

King. (to the ABBOT.) Say'st thou my chaplain is in purgatory?

Ab. It is the canon speaks it, good my liege.
King. In purgatory! thou shalt pray him out on't,
Or I will make thee wish thyself beside him.

Ab. My lord, perchance his soul is past the aid
Of all the church may do—there is a place
From which there's no redemption.

King. And if I thought my faithful chaplain there, Thou shouldst there join him, priest!-Go, watch, fast, pray,

And let me have such prayers as will storm hea

ven

None of your maim'd and mutter'd hunting masses. Ab. (apart to CHANDOS.) For God's sake, take him off.

Chan. Wilt thou compound, then,

The tithes of Everingham?

King. 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 CHANDOS.) We will compound, and grant thee, too, a share

[Whispers.

Ab. That Swinton's dead, a monk of ours re- To speak of monks and chaplains?

ported,

Bound homeward from saint Ninian's pilgrimage,
The lord of Gordon slew him.

Per. Father, and if your house stood on our
borders,

King. To hell with it, and thee! Is this a time

[Flourish of trumpets, answered by a distans
sound of bugles.

See, Chandos, Percy-Ha, saint George! saint
Edward!

See it descending now, the fatal bail shower,
The storm of England's wrath--sure, swift, re
sistless,

Which no mail-coat can brook. Brave English
hearts!

How close they shoot together!-as one eye
Had aimed five thousand shafts-as if one hand
Had loosed five thousand bow-strings!
The thick volley

Per.