University of Virginia Library

SCENE VI.

Caerlaverock Wood.
Enter Hubert Dougan and Neal; the latter bearing the murdered body of Lord Maxwell, the former with a lantern.
Neal.
Hist! hear'st thou nought? or was't the deadman's hand
That shook the hazel bough? 'Tis a dreary place.
(Chaunts.)
O for one drop of most unrighteous brandy!
I'm all as cold 's as corse.

Dougan.
I wish thou wert one.
Can'st thou not rather sigh some scrap of prayer?
Thou'lt waken all the ravens. Some sad hind,
Whose lass a pedlar from his arms seduced
With a remnant of red ribbon, here perchance
Talks to the owl.

Neal.
Prayer! I can mind no prayer,
Not even a shred, though I were doom'd for lack
To slumber with my back-load.—Curse thy haste;
I've spilt a mouthful of the rarest spirit
E'er charm'd the toothache.
(Chaunts.)

Dougan.
The den we dug for thy sweet back-load is
Grown solid ground again. I thought 'twas here,
Under this blasted pine. Come, soft, man, soft!
Confound these honeysuckle twigs, they hang
Their tendrils in one's teeth.

Neal.
(Chaunts.)
He's living, Hubert, he's living! his right hand
Has given me a staggerer i' th' teeth. Curse on
Hab Comyne's fears; we might have denn'd him deep
I' the marble floor, beyond a sleuth hound's scent,
Or cast him in the deep and silent sea.

Macgee.
(Aside.)
These are two fiends who haunt the saintly steps
Of covenanting Comyne. They work his will
When he but moves his finger.

Graeme.
They've brought work
Of murder's shaping: stay, let us list all,
And eke their broken utterings together;
And run the track of murder's foot till 't reach
The threshold o' the plotter.

Neal.
Hubert, I hear
Men's tongues—nay, stay, 'tis but a mouse i' the grass;
And yet mine ear shaped it like human speech.

Dougan.
And what o' that? a mouse may chirp like a man;
A dead lord's hand lives when the green bough waves it.
Fear is a bogglish follower. Here's the grave;
Measure it, lord; feel if it's cut to fit thee.
Hab Comyne swore thou wert but a sad lord,
And a most sorry beadsman. From his hands
Thou hadst a passage to heaven, bloody and brief.
And yet thou braved us nobly. When thou saw
The rude steel near thee, I see yet thine eye
Lighten as thou smote the foremost. Oh thy look,
As thy shrieking lady saw thee; it might make
The stars burn down from heaven, and the clear moon
Descend from the sky, that men might see to hunt
Us to destruction.

Neal.
Thou wilt preach about it,
Uttering fine words and sayings, sugar smooth,
Till the wild birds will learn to sing the tale;
The stupid owl to whoop it in day-light;
And the chased hart will couch upon the grave,
That men may find out murder.

Dougan.
Coward priest,
Why didst thou leave the pulpit? Thou didst drown
Thy fears in foaming flagons; didst awake
With lewd song and wild riot the bright sun
That rose, nor shamed thee; thou didst find thy love
Among the dames whom even seafaring men
Shunn'd like the whirlpool; and thou didst blaspheme
Till profanity grew sick. Fly from my sight,
Nor stay where brave men are. To thee I speak not;
But with my heart I commune, where I find
What sickens contemplation: curdling blood
Will smell i' the nose of justice, smother'd 'neath
All the Siberian snow. To mine eyes come,
From the earth's centre, arm'd and fiery shapes;
Cherubim's blades are bared. Beneath my feet
The grass seems growing daggers. No more now
I'll look that way—no more.

Graeme.
Look this way then,
Damn'd murderer; 'tis the last time thou wilt look
An honest man i' the face.

Dougan.
What devil art thou?
If thou'rt not framed of sterner stuff than man,
Thou'lt howl beneath this steel.

(Draws his sword.)
Graeme.
Now, Hubert Dougan,
Stand from that noble corse: I will not mix
The holy blood that dyes his garments through
And stains the grass, with the rank gore that makes
The fires of hell so grim. So thus I greet thee.

(Fight.)
Macgee.
I know thee well; and all who see thy face
Shrink back, and say, a villain. Curse the sea
That spared thee for such havoc! Now go howl
I' the fiery vault. Thy gentle master soon
Shall wail and quaff the liquid fire with thee.

(Fight; Neal falls.)
Graeme.
Thy look is noble. I war not on souls.
Wilt thou not yield thee? Then say one brief prayer,
Or have at thy heart, for sin has sore subdued thee.

Doug.
I yield not till steel makes me; prayer, to me,
More terrible is than thou. My life has been
Spent in war's stormy surge, and peace and prayer
Are matters of strange name: come, do thy best.
(Fight; Hubert falls.)
My curse now, Halbert Comyne, on thy name!
O! I shall meet and beard thee, in the den
We're doom'd to dwell in, and our strife shall be
Eternal as our torments.

(Dies.)
Graeme.
Mark Macgee,
Now may this night o' the year be mark'd and cursed
With earth and ocean storm; be the sick air
Thick of blue plague; the dew be curdled blood;
May cities quake, and the foundation stones
Of holy temples shake like leaves on waters;
May unbless'd bones of murderers walk the earth;
The fiery shapes of those too hot i' the pit,
Troop to and fro, visible to men's eyes.
Here is a proud star cast from the high heaven,
And no lights left behind.

(Looking on Lord Maxwell.)
Macgee.
As a fair tree,
There liest thou, smote and stricken in the bud.
Thou wert to me the star to the mariner,
The soft sweet rind unto the tender tree.
We've dyed our lips with wild berries together.
Thou satest a worship'd thing i' the world; and thou
Didst wind all hearts about thee. May he rot
Till he infect the moon, he who has laid
Thy blessed head so low!

Graeme.
My friend, leal friend,
Heaven has some fearful purpose in all this;
So let us not our swords draw rash, and shout,
Ho! Comyne, thou 'rt a murderer; thou hast slain
Thy cousin, and his wife, and gentle son,
Usurping their inheritance; and thou
Unworthy art to live. God has his time,
Even as the seasons have; and some dread sign
Seen by all men, and read by us alone—
Some sign on earth, dread, fearful, manifest—
Shall surely warn us, when that his revenge
Is ripe for innocent blood. So sheath thy sword,
And wear not thou thy purpose on thy brow.—
Now let us lay mute earth to earth, and go
In silence home,—stir with the lark, and seek
The castle-gate, and hear what ears may hear.

(They bury the bodies, and exeunt.)