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The Outlaw

A Drama In Five Acts
  
  
  
  

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SCENE II.
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SCENE II.

A wood near Barden Tower. Enter Ladies Margaret and Emma, with Cathleen.
LADY MARGARET.
'Tis strange. Two days have passed, and yet he comes not!
O! love's impatience ought to shame the lightning
As slow and cold!—But one thing I have sworn,
That come he soon, or come he never more,
I will not wed this man, whom my good brother
Would kindly substitute for him I love!
Cathleen—

CATHLEEN.
My lady.


151

LADY MARGARET.
How fares Roddam?

CATHLEEN.
Well.
He doth recover as by miracle;
But loss of blood hath made him weak.

LADY MARGARET.
Brave Youth!
I would I were a Queen for Roddam's sake.

CATHLEEN.
I shall be glad to tell him of your wish,
And he be proud to hear of it.

LADY MARGARET.
Cathleen,
You know the song of Duncan? I bethink me
How the old Minstrel's tears mixed with his harp-strings
As he did sing it—giving what to me
Appeared a playful, not a sad farewell,
An air of sorrow and of prophecy.—
Just now, methinks, 'twould please me well to hear it.

CATHLEEN.
Would that my power to please were like my wish!
[Sings.

152

Away, Lady, fly from thy dark native mountains,
Thy mead-bordered streams, and thy heather-fringed fountains,
From the depth of thy glens, from the sweep of thy valleys,
Where the warrior treads, and the deer-hunter sallies;
Away, Lady, fly! but vale, mountain, and river
May sweep, tower, and flow—and be thine again never!
O, thoughtless and light beats the heart in thy bosom—
But thine eye is the diamond, thy cheek is the blossom,
Thy form is the seraph's, all grace and all lightness,
The charm of thy spirit around thee is brightness,—
And young eyes may gaze, and young bosoms may quiver,
Affections may change, and return to us never!
'Tis done!—'Mid the dazzle of bliss and of splendor,
Still fewer and fainter the musings—though tender—
That waft back thy soul to the land of thy childhood,
Where mountain and meadow, where river and wildwood,
And thousands of hearts throbbing fondly as ever,
Lament thee away to be ours again—never!


153

LADY MARGARET.
Hark! Mingled not with Cathleen's voice some strain
Of doleful note? Or grow I superstitious
Since Gordale's gloomy hour?

LADY EMMA
(looking out).
You heard aright.
There cometh now a funeral-train, who bear
A coffin decked with garlands. Maidens young,
Arrayed in white, support the bier. Some comrade
They take to her last home, I doubt not.—Hush!
Again they raise the hymn. Step we aside,
Until the sad procession passes by.

[Exeunt.
[Enter a Funeral. A coffin with the name of Fanny Ashton engraven on the lid, is carried slowly on the stage, followed by Cuthbert Ashton, his Wife, and mourners; Cuthbert leaning on a staff. The Bearers set down the coffin, while the following lines are sung.
HYMN.
When the storm calleth
Wildly and loudly,
Then the flower falleth
That blossomed so proudly—

154

Earth to its earth we bring,
Solemnly, slowly!
Soul to its God, we sing,
Happy and holy!
Dare not to blame her—
Lifeless she lieth!
Tenderly name her—
Early she dieth!
Dust to its narrow cell,
Narrow and lowly!
Soul with its Maker dwell,
Happy and holy!

[During the Hymn a Stranger, muffled, comes forward, places his hand on the coffin, and stands in an attitude of grief. Cuthbert and his Wife appear to notice him, and to converse earnestly aside. At length Cuthbert raises his staff and speaks—
CUTHBERT.
Avaunt there, villain! or beware the vengeance
Of a despairing father—father? No!
I was a father. Curses light—


155

STRANGER.
Old man,
Curse not. It 'vails not. It is curse enough
To feel what now I feel.

CUTHBERT.
Dost thou repent?
Then God forgive thee—as—I—do!

[Weeps.
STRANGER.
Amen!
And when thou seest my features, thou wilt know,
That I am able, not to heal thy woes,
But, it may be, to soften them.
[Shows his face to Cuthbert.
Exclaim not!
I would not these should know me for the wretch
I must appear to them, if known.
[Takes his arm.
Good Cuthbert,
Permit I prop thy steps, who have, alas!
Ta'en their sweet prop away. I have sad right
To be a Mourner here!

CUTHBERT.
(greatly agitated).
This is too much!


156

[The funeral moves on, and as the last of the train disappear, re-enter the Ladies.
LADY MARGARET.
Ever the same—O noble, noble youth!

LADY EMMA.
Who hath your admiration!

LADY MARGARET.
Saw you not?
What else was there to look at? Who but he
Dared play that part?—Too happy Fanny Ashton,
Thus mourned by him! 'Twere sweet, methinks, to die,
To have his tears shed o'er one!—Every drop
Is worth a kingdom!

LADY EMMA.
If so rich his tear.
What were his smile worth?

LADY MARGARET.
Worth the world! And if
There should be such a cloud upon his life
As may forbid me to enjoy that smile,
I'll live upon its memory, and die
When the sweet light shall vanish!


157

LADY EMMA.
That will turn
On your opinion of his rival, who,
They say, is handsome.

LADY MARGARET.
Emma, not a word,
I do beseech you, speak to me of him.
I ought not hate a man I never saw;
But, as a vapour that doth come between
My sun and me, I hate him; or at least
I wish him from my atmosphere.

CATHLEEN
(to LADY MARGARET).
So please you,
I see my lord, your brother, on the path,
And hastening hitherward.

LADY MARGARET.
He comes to lead us
Into the court. Away, and let us meet him.

[Exeunt.