WAL. (looking to a distance). My thoughts have rapt me more than thy devotion, Else had I heard the tread of distant horses Farther than thou couldst hear the sacring bell; But now in truth they come : flight and pursuit Are sights I've been long strange to. NIN. See how they gallop down the opposing hill! Yon grey steed bounding down the headlong path, As on the level meadow; while the black, Urged by the rider with his naked sword, Stoops on his prey, as I have seen the falcon Dashing upon the heron. Thou dost frown And clench thy hand, as if it grasp'd a weapon! WAL. 'Tis but for shame to see a man fly thus While only one pursues him. Coward, turn! Turn thee, I say! thouart as stout as he, And well mayst match thy single sword with his ! Shame, that a man should rein a steed like thee, Yet fear to turn his front against a foe! I am ashamed to look on them. NIN. Yet look again; they quit their horses now, Unfit for the rough path: the fugitive Keeps the advantage still. They strain towards us. WAL. I'll not believe that ever the bold Thane Rear'd up his Cross to be a sanctuary To the base coward, who shunn'd an equal combat. How's this?-that look-that mien-mine eyes grow dizzy! NIN. He comes! Thou art a novice on this watch, Brother, I'll take the word and speak to him. Pluck down thy cowl; know that we spiritual champions Have honour to maintain, and must not seem To quail before the laity. [WALDHAVE lets down his cowl, and steps back. Enter MAURICE BERKELEY. BER. I claim the privilege of Clan My name is Maurice Berkeley, and my lineage Allies me nearly with the Thane of Fife. NIN. Give us to know the cause of sanctuary? BER. Let him show it Against whose violence I claim the privilege. Enter LINDESAY, with his sword drawn. He rushes at BERKELEY; NINIAN interposes. NIN. Peace, in the name of Saint Peace, in our Prior's name, and in the name Of that dear symbol, which did pur chase peace And goodwill towards man! I do command thee To sheathe thy sword, and stir no contest here. LIN. One charm I'll try first, To lure the craven from the enchanted circle Which he hath harbour'd in. Hear you, De Berkeley ! This is my brother's sword; the hand it arms But ask not me to tell them, while the villain Who wrought them stands and listens with a smile. NIN. It is said Since you refer us thus to general fame That Berkeley slew thy brother, the Lord Louis, In his own halls at Edzell LIN. Ay, in his halls— In his own halls, good father; that's the word! In his own halls he slew him, while the wine Pass'd on the board between! The gallant Thane, Who wreak'd Macbeth's inhospitable murder, Rear'd not yon Cross to sanction deeds like these. BER. Thou say'st I came a guest! A destined victim, train'd on to the doom His frantic jealousy prepared for me. For shunning thee than terror of thy He fix'da quarrel on me, and we fought. weapon, That rock-hewn Cross as soon should start and stir Because a shepherd-boy blew horn beneath it, As I for brag of thine. NIN. I charge you both, and in the name of Heaven, Breathe no defiance on this sacred spot, Where Christian men must bear them peacefully, On pain of the Church thunders. Calmly tell Your cause of difference; and, Lord Lindesay, thou Be first to speak them. LIN. Ask the blue welkin, ask the silver Tay, Can I forget the form that came between us And perish'd by his sword? 'Twas then I fought For vengeance; until then I guarded life; But then I sought to take it, and prevail'd. LIN. Wretch! thou didst first dishonour to thy victim, And then didst slay him! BER. There is a busy fiend tugs at my heart, But I will struggle with it! Youthful knight, My heart is sick of war, my hand of slaughter; I come not to my lordships, or my land, The northern Grampians-all things But just to seek a spot in some cold know my wrongs; cloister, Which I may kneel on living, and, Can hold a sword, shall no one cast when dead, Which may suffice to cover me.' Forgive me that I caused your brother's death; And I forgive thee the injurious terms With which thou taxest me. LIN. Take worse and blacker! Murderer, adulterer!— Art thou not moved yet? BER. Do not press me further. The hunted stag, even when he seeks the thicket, Compell'd to stand at bay, grows dangerous ! Most true thy brother perish'd by my hand, And if you term it murder-I must bear it. Thus far my patience can; but if thou And by the memory of that murder'd brand The purity of yonder martyr'd saint, Whom then my sword but poorly did avenge, With one injurious word, come to the valley, And I will show thee how it shall be answer'd! NIN. This heat, Lord Berkeley, doth but ill accord With thy late pious patience. BER. Father, forgive, and let me stand excused To Heaven and thee, if patience brooks no more. I loved this lady fondly-truly lovedLoved her, and was beloved, ere yet her father Conferr'd her on another. While she lived, Each thought of her was to my soul as hallow'd As those I send to heaven; and on her grave, Her bloody, early grave, while this poor hand innocent, Each seeming charge against her was as false As our bless'd Lady's spotless. Hear, each saint! Hear me, thou holy rood! hear me from Heaven, Thou martyr'd excellence! Hear me from penal fire (For sure not yet thy guilt is expiated!) Stern ghost of her destroyer! WAL. (throws back his cowl). He LIN. My brother! and alive! No tie of kindred binds me to the world; All were renounced, when, with re viving life, Came the desire to seek the sacred cloister. Alas, in vain! for to that last retreat, Like to a pack of bloodhounds in full chase, Our last of mice, I tell you, has been found Starved in the pantry; and the reverend spider, Sole living tenant of the Baron's halls, Who, train'd to abstinence, lived a whole summer Upon a single fly, he's famish'd too; The cat is in the kitchen-chimney seated Now to their mates the wild swans Upon our last of fagots, destined soon row, By day they swam apart; And to the thicket wanders slow The hind beside the hart. The woodlark at his partner's side, Twitters his closing song; All meet whom day and care divide, But Leonard tarries long. [KATLEEN has come out of the Castle while FLORA was singing, and speaks when the song is ended. KAT. Ah, my dear coz!-if that your mother's niece May so presume to call your father's daughter All these fond things have got some home of comfort To tempt their rovers back: the lady's bower, The shepherdess's hut, the wild swan's couch Among the rushes, even the lark's low nest Has that of promise which lures home a lover, But we have nought of this. FLO. How call you, then, this castle of my sire, The towers of Devorgoil? To dress our last of suppers, and, poor soul, Would clatter in their cerements at the tidings. FLO. My mother, too, would gladly see you placed Beyond the verge of our unhappiness, KAT. Dungeons for men, and Which, like a witch's circle, blights palaces for owls; Yet no wise owl would change a farmer's barn and taints Whatever comes within it. KAT. Ah! my good aunt! For yonder hungry hall. Our latest She is a careful kinswoman and |