Varying and gracing it with liquid For such is thy kind meaning-at the sweetness, Like the wild modulation of the lark; strain ! To listen to her, is to seem to wander romance, Whence nothing but the lovely fairy's will, Who wove the spell, can extricate the wanderer. Methinks I hear her now! SWIN. Bless'd privilege Of youth! There's scarce three minutes to decide 'Twixt death and life, 'twixt triumph and defeat, expense Of the last hope which Heaven re- While I abide, no follower of mine What power can stay them? and, our What swords shall for an instant stem And save the latest chance for victory? and were he gone, There will not twenty spears be left with us. GOR. No, bravely as we have begun the field, Yet all his thoughts are in his lady's So let us fight it out. bower, List'ning her harping! Enter VIPONT. Where are thine, De Vipont? VIP. On death, on judgment, on eternity! For time is over with us. SWIN. There moves not, then, one pennon to our aid, Of all that flutter yonder! VIP. From the main English host come rushing forward The Regent's eyes, More certain than a thousand messages, Shall see us stand, the barrier of his host Against yon bursting storm. If not for honour, If not for warlike rule, for shame at He must bear down to aid us. Pennons enow, ay, and their Royal Devoting thy young life? O, Gordon, But ours stand rooted, as for crows to I do it as the patriarch doom'd his I at my country's, he at Heaven's Having lived a thief, to die a brave command; man's death; But I seek vainly some atoning sacri- And never had I a more glorious fice, Rather than such a victim! (Trum pets.) Hark, they come! chance for 't. SWIN. Here lies the way to it, knave. Make in, make in, That music sounds not like thy lady's And aid young Gordon ! lute. GOR. Yet shall my lady's name mix with it gaily. Mount, vassals, couch your lances, and cry' 'Gordon ! Gordon for Scotland and Elizabeth!' [Exeunt. Loud Alarums. SCENE III. Another part of the field of battle, adjacent to the former Scene. Alarums. Enter SWINTON, followed by HOB HATTELY. [Exeunt. Loud and long alarums, After which the back Scene rises, and discovers SWINTON on the ground, GORDON supporting him; both much wounded. SWIN. All are cut down; the reapers have pass'd o'er us, And hie to distant harvest. My toil's over; There lies my sickle (dropping his sword). Hand of mine again Shall never, never wield it! GOR. O valiant leader, is thy light extinguish'd? That only beacon-flame which promised safety Swi. Stand to it yet! The man who In this day's deadly wrack! flies to-day, May bastards warm them at his house hold hearth! Hов. That ne'er shall be my curse. Is trusty as my broadsword. Swi. Нов. threw my reins SWIN. My lamp hath long been dim! But thine, young Gordon, Just kindled, to be quench'd so suddenly, Ere Scotland saw its splendour! GOR. Five thousand horse hung idly on yon hill, Saw us o'erpower'd, and no one SWIN. It was the Regent's envy. Upon my palfrey's neck, and let him Why blame I him? It was our civil Is he to answer it, whose deed prevented Let thy hands close them, Gordon; GOR. Alas! alas! the author of the My fair-hair'd William renders me death-feud, He has his reckoning too! for had your sons And num'rous vassals lived, we had lack'd no aid. SWIN. May God assoil the dead, and him who follows! We've drank the poison'd beverage which we brew'd: Have sown the wind, and reap'd the tenfold whirlwind! But thou, brave youth, whose nobleness of heart Pour'd oil upon the wounds our hate Thou, who hast done no wrong, ment ! GOR. All need forgiveness. (Distant alarum.) Hark, in yonder shout Did the main battles counter! SWIN. Look on the field, brave I guess, Too surely do I guess. But that office! [Dies. VIP. Swinton? Alas! the best, the bravest, strongest, My tongue should wrong the dead. Thou dost but stay to perish with GOR. All's lost! all's lost! Of Of him who slew thy father. the main Scottish host, Some wildly fly, and some rush wildly GOR. Ay, but he was my sire in Sleep at his side, in token that ourdeath Ended the feud of Swinton and of Gordon. K. ED. It is the Gordon! Is there Edward can do to honour bravery, GOR. Nothing but this; Let not base Baliol, with his touch or look, Profane my corpse or Swinton's. I've some breath still, Enough to say-Scotland-Elizabeth! CHAN. Baliol, I would not brook such dying looks, To buy the crown you aim at. VIP. That Christian king is warring I was a Scotsman ere I was a Templar, K. ED. I will but know thee as a And set thee free unransom'd. Enter ABBOT OF WALTHAMSTOW. AB. Heaven grant your Majesty Many such glorious days as this has been! K. ED. It is a day of much and high advantage; Glorious it might have been, had all our foes Fought like these two brave champions. Strike the drums, Sound trumpets, and pursue the fugitives, Till the Tweed's eddies 'whelm them. Berwick's render'd; These wars, I trust, will soon find lasting close. |