University of Virginia Library

SCENE IV.

Caerlaverock Wood, by the River side.
Sir Marmaduke Maxwell, Simon Graeme, Mark Macgee, and armed men.
Graeme.
Here let us stand beneath the greenwood tree,
For he must pass down this way. Now be firm;
Strike fierce and spare not; but leave him to me.
These are the tokens you shall know him by:—
He rideth ever on a coal black steed,
Whose long tail sweeps the ground. His black helm has
A snowy crest that never has been soiled
By blood or dust, but God shall smite it down
Among men's feet. High is his warlike brow,
And close and clustering curls his raven hair,
And keen the glancing of his swarthy eye;
When he sees us, he'll wave his right hand thus,
And say, “keep back rude churls”—leave him to me.

Sir Marmaduke.
I have some friends, all firm, assured soldiers,
Derned in the greenwood. Yet have we to fight
Against a woeful odds.

Macgee.
Yes, he has with him
Twelve score of chosen lances, and four hundred
Of horsemen sheathed in steel; we are in all
Eight score and twelve: hearken! I hear, ev'n now,
His horsemen prancing up the river side.

Graeme.
Lo! heaven gives not the battle to the strong;
The race to the swift foot. His hour is come;
And though he had a thousand for each one,
Though his steel coat were triple proof, and though
He were enclosed with lances as a grove,
The avenger's hand would reach him. When man's time
Is come that he must die, a pin would slay,
One drop of water drown him.

Sir Marmaduke.
My sure friend,
Thy words refresh me: I do not dread death,
For I have dared it in its sternest shape;
But oh! if heaven smile not upon our cause,
I dread the weeping of your little ones,
The wailing of their mothers; that aged men
Should tell our tale, shake their grey heads, and say,
“They were valiant but not wise.”

Graeme.
This river side
Is a right lovely spot; here the spring sun
Aneath the grey trunk of that ancient tree
First gets his balmy cowslips. I've pulled here
Crowtoes, and violets, and the honey-suckle,
The brown ripe nuts, and sought the song bird's nest;
Each one is lovely in its own sweet season;
And all beneath this beauteous holly bough
I've said some soft words in a fair dame's ear.
(Trumpet sounds.)
He is night now. Lo! here the murderer comes.
Eternal one, make the keen edged sword
Fall sevenfold sharp.

Enter Halbert Comyne, Sir John Gourlay, Captains and Soldiers.
Sir John.
I had, indeed, a bootless chace, my lord;
I sought for Simon Graeme; but he was gone,
And gone arm'd, too. Upon his cottage roof
I threw the flame; his wife and children wail'd,
And old men cursed me: I shall find him yet;
That head of his is worth more gold to me
Than the sack of a rich city.

Graeme.
(Aside.)
Soulless villain!
So thou hast burn'd my little bonnie home.
Oh! where are ye, my children!—On my head
A price set, too! There doth the raven sit,
Shall have her fill of thee.

(Draws his sword.)
Sir Marmaduke.
Stay, stay, my friend;
I charge thee, stay; thy hot wrath will mar all.

Graeme.
My dwelling burn'd above my little ones!
He who hears this with a cool heart, may he
Howl in the hottest hell!—Lo! I am here.

Sir John.
Here, peasant, listen—canst thou tell me where
I may find Simon Graeme.

Graeme.
I'm Simon Graeme;
And thou art ravens' meat.

(Fight, and Exeunt.)
Comyne.
Here with your levell'd lances! strike me down
These clouted clowns, assail them on all sides;
Shall chaff like this uncharm me of my life?

(Fight, and Exeunt.)
Re-enter Sir Marmaduke Maxwell and Captain.
Captain.
Home to thy plowshare, home!

Sir Marmaduke.
I seek thy lord;
See thou pluck not his peril on thyself.
(Fight, the Captain falls.)
My men are slain or scatter'd: I sought death,
But found it not. This murderer's life is charm'd,
For twice I strove to strike him with my sword.

Enter Another Captain.
Captain.
Yield thee, or die, for thou hast slain my kinsman.

Sir Marmaduke.
Twice hast thou come between thy chief and me;
Thou'lt never do it again.

(Fight, the Captain falls.)
Enter Mary Douglas.
Sir Marmaduke.
Alas! my love,
My star of glory is for ever set;
What can I do for thee.

Mary Douglas.
Fly! fly! Oh, fly!
Down in the greenwood, by the river side,
There is a wild path shaped by lovers' feet;
We know it well, my love. Thy mother there
Waits in the cavern for thee; haste then, haste,
For morning light will soon be on the hill,
And thy foes hunt for thee on every side.

(Exeunt.)
Re-Enter Simon Graeme.
Graeme.
I've hung his head for hawk's meat. Where, oh where
Art thou, sir Marmaduke? Heaven! have I chaced
The fox to death, and let the tiger range?
There are more signs, oh God, on earth than thine:
Hell has assumed thy sceptre: I've believed
A meteor pageant of the pit, and fought
Even for mine own perdition.

(Exit.)