The opprobrious words that I from him have borne.
To the liege lord of my dear native land
I owe a subject's homage; but even him
And his high arbitration I'd reject.
Within my bosom reigns another lord;
Honor, sole judge and umpire of itself.
If my free speech offend you, noble Randolph,
Revoke your favors, and let Norval go
Hence as he came, alone, but not dishonored!

Lord Ran. Thus far I'll mediate with impartial voice;

The ancient foe of Caledonia's land

Now waves his banner o'er her frighted fields;
Suspend your purpose till your country's arms
Repel the bold invader; then decide

The private quarrel.

Glen. I agree to this.
Norv. And I.

Ex. CCXXXVIII.-DIALOGUE.-THE BROTHER'S APPEAL.

SALADIN, MALEK ADHEL, ATTENDANT.

ANON.

Attendant. A stranger craves admittance to your highness. Saladin. Whence comes he?

Atten. That I know not.

Enveloped with a vestment of strange form,

His countenance is hidden; but his step,
His lofty port, his voice in vain disguised,
Proclaim-if that I dare pronounce it—
Sal. Whom?

Atten. Thy royal brother!

Sal. Bring him instantly. [Exit Attendant.] Now, with his specious, smooth, persuasive tongue, Fraught with some wily subterfuge, he thinks

To dissipate my anger.

He shall die!

[Enter Attendant and Malek Adhel.] Leave us together. [Exit Attendant.] [Aside.] I should

know that form.

Now summon all thy fortitude, my soul,

Nor, though thy blood cry for him, spare the guilty! [Aloud.] Well, stranger, speak; but first unvail thyself, For Saladin must view the form that fronts him.

Malek Adhel. Behold it, then!

Sal. I see a traitor's visage.

Mal. Ad. A brother's!

Sal. No!

Saladin owns no kindred with a villain.

Mal. Ad. O, patience, Heaven! Had any tongue but thine

Uttered that word, it ne'er should speak another.

Sal. And why not now? Can this heart be more pierced By Malek Adhel's sword than by his deeds? O, thou hast made a desert of this bosom ! For open candor, planted sly disguise; For confidence, suspicion; and the glow Of generous friendship, tenderness and love, For ever banished! Whither can I turn, When he by blood, by gratitude, by faith, By every tie, bound to support, forsakes me? Who, who can stand, when Malek Adhel falls? Henceforth I turn me from the sweets of love: The smiles of friendship, and this glorious world, In which all find some heart to rest upon, Shall be to Saladin a cheerless void,— His brother has betrayed him!

Mal. Ad. Thou art softened;

I am thy brother, then; but late thou saidst-
My tongue can never utter the base title!
Sal. Was it traitor? True!

Thou hast betrayed me in my fondest hopes!
Villain? 'Tis just; the title is appropriate!
Dissembler? Tis not written in thy face;
No, nor imprinted on that specious brow;
But on this breaking heart the name is stamped,
For ever stamped, with that of Malek Adhel!

Thinkest thou I'm softened? By Mohammed! these hands

Shall crush these aching eyeballs, ere a tear

Fall from them at thy fate! O, monster, monster!

The brute that tears the infant from its nurse

Is excellent to thee, for in his form

The impulse of his nature may be read;
But thou, so beautiful, so proud, so noble,
O, what a wretch art thou! O! can a term
In all the various tongues of man be found
To match thy infamy?

Mal. Ad. Go on! go on!

'Tis but a little while to hear thee, Saladin; And, bursting at thy feet, this heart will prove Its penitence, at least.

Sal. That were an end

Too noble for a traitor! The bowstring is

A more apropriate finish! Thou shalt die!

Mal. Ad. And death were welcome at another's mandate! What, what have I to live for? Be it so,

If that, in all thy armies, can be found
An executing hand.

Sal. O, doubt it not!

They 're eager for the office. Perfidy,

So black as thine, effaces from their minds

All memory of thy former excellence.

Mal. Ad. Defer not, then, their wishes. Saladin,

If e'er this form was joyful to thy sight,

This voice seemed grateful to thine ear, accede

Το my last prayer:-0, lengthen not this scene,
To which the agonies of death were pleasing!
Let me die speedily!

Sal. This very hour!

[Aside.] For, O! the more I look upon that face, The more I hear the accents of that voice,

The monarch softens, and the judge is lost

In all the brother's weakness; yet such guilt,—

Such vile ingratitude,-it calls for vengeance;

And vengeance it shall have! What, ho! who waits there!

Atten. Did your highness call?

Sal. Assemble quickly

[Enter Attendant.]

My forces in the court. Tell them they come

To view the death of yon bosom-traitor.

And, bid them mark, that he who will not spare

His brother when he errs, expects obedience,

Silent obedience, from his followers. [Exit Attendant.]

Mal. Ad. Now, Saladin,

The word is given; I have nothing more
To fear from thee, my brother. I am not
About to crave a miserable life.

Without thy love, thy honor, thy esteem,
Life were a burden to me.

Think not, either,

The justice of thy sentence I would question.

But one request now trembles on my tongue,-
One wish still clinging round the heart, which soon

Not even that shall torture,—will it, then,
Think'st thou, thy slumbers render quieter,
Thy waking thoughts more pleasing, to reflect,
That when thy voice had doomed a brother's death,
The last request which e'er was his to utter
Thy harshness made him carry to the grave?

Sal. Speak, then; but ask thyself if thou hast reason
To look for much indulgence here.

Mal. Ad. I have not!

Yet will I ask for it. We part for ever;
This is our last farewell; the king is satisfied;
The judge has spoke the irrevocable sentence.
None sees, none hears, save that omniscient power,
Which, trust me, will not frown to look upon
Two brothers part like such. When, in the face
Of forces once my own, I'm led to death,
Then be thine eye unmoistened; let thy voice
Then speak my doom untrembling; then,
Unmoved, behold this stiff and blackened corse.
But now I ask-nay, turn not, Saladin !—
I ask one single pressure of thy hand;
From that stern eye one solitary tear-
O, torturing recollection!-one kind word

From the loved tongue which once breathed naught but kind

ness.

Still silent? Brother! friend! beloved companion

Of all my youthful sports!—are they forgotten?—
Strike me with deafness, make me blind, O Heaven!
Let me not see this unforgiving man

Smile at my agonies! nor hear that voice

Pronounce my doom, which would not say one word,
One little word, whose cherished memory

Would soothe the struggles of departing life!
Yet, yet thou wilt! O, turn thee, Saladin !

Look on my face,-thou canst not spurn me then;
Look on the once-loved face of Malek Adhel

For the last time, and call him—

Sal. [seizing his hand.] Brother! brother!

Mal. Ad. [breaking away.] Now call thy followers. Death has not now

A single pang in store. Proceed! I'm ready.

Sal. O, art thou ready to forgive, my brother? To pardon him who found one single error,

One little failing, 'mid a splendid throng
Of glorious qualities--

Mal. Ad. O, stay thee, Saladin!

I did not ask for life. I only wished
To carry thy forgiveness to the grave.
No, Emperor, the loss of Cesarea

Cries loudly for the blood of Malek Adhel.
Thy soldiers, too, demand that he who lost
What cost them many a weary hour to gain
Should expiate his offences with his life.
Lo! even now they crowd to view my death,
Thy just impartiality. I go!

Pleased by my fate to add another leaf
To thy proud wreath of glory. [Going.]

Sal. Thou shalt not. Enter Attendant.]

Atten. My lord, the troops assembled by your order
Tumultuous throng the courts. The prince's death
Not one of them but vows he will not suffer.

The mutes have fled; the very guards rebel.
Nor think I, in this city's spacious round,

Can e'er be found a hand to do the office.

Mal. Ad. O faithful friends! [To Atten.] Thine shall. Atten. Mine? Never!

The other first shall lop it from the body.

Sal. They teach the Emperor his duty well.

Tell them he thanks them for it. Tell them, too,

That ere their opposition reached our ears,
Saladin had forgiven Malek Adhel.

Atten. O joyful news!

I haste to gladden many a gallant heart,
And dry the tear on many a hardy cheek,
Unused to such a visitor. [Exit.]

Sal. These men, the meanest in society,
The outcasts of the earth,-by war, by nature,
Hardened, and rendered callous,-these, who claim
No kindred with thee,-who have never heard
The accents of affection from thy lips,-

O, these can cast aside their vowed allegiance,
Throw off their long obedience, risk their lives,
To save thee from destruction! While I,
I, who can not, in all my memory,

Call back one danger which thou hast not shared,
One day of grief, one night of revelry,

Which thy resistless kindness hath not soothed,