University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

A lawn before the gate. Enter Elinor, attended by a Damsel.
El.
As o'er the hills we flew, the very heavens
Frowned wild and ominous; but when I woke,
So melancholy sweet the moon looked on me,
Murmurs so soothing stole upon mine ear,
Awhile, I thought myself in some new being.

Dams.
Fairies keep revel on such nights, and oft
About the traveller make woods and glades
Seem full of voices, airs, and shrill, sweet pipings—

El.
But spake he, Agnes,—as thou saidst?—

Dams.
More like a lord, than a poor vassal, lady;
Clasped you against his breast, and wept, and swore
As he were frantic; nay, we thought you dead;
Killed in the shock that slew the ruffian.

Enter Percy.
El.
Ha!
Agnes,—

Per.
Lady, a moment hear my suit.

El.
Your suit!—What suit?

Per.
A youth who loves, and, in his prosperous days,
Favored me, wandering in a woodman's weeds,
From home and kindred parted, craves a place,
(Hearing my fortune in your father's service,)
An humble place, among the train I lead.

El.
Receive him like a brother, Arthur;
Welcome the wanderer to my father's house.
But say,—what tidings from the Regent pass?
I saw you from my tower, at peep of dawn,
In parley with a Scottish courier.

Per.
No news.

El.
How fares my lady Albany?

Per.
Soft, benedicite! a tale there was.
The Northern Muses weep, and wreath their harps
With mournful willows; Lady Regent pines,
Wan as a shade; court ladies droop, and sigh,
Forsake their lutes, and talk of nunneries:
Mirth, music, merry-making, melody,
Speed the light hours no more at Holyrood:—
The King of Glee, the gamesome Percy, 's fled.

El.
Has Percy fled?

Per.
So says the courier; none
Knows whither.

El.
Gracious Heaven, protect his steps!

Per.
Ha!
You speak with fervor, lady.

El.
While I rove
These woods and walks, and wander through those halls
Of lonely grandeur, every object wakes
Some sad remembrance of the noble outcast.
I entered, late, a long-neglected tower,
Where, grey with cobwebs, torn, and soiled with dust,
The ancient pictures of the race decay.
There, dark-browed Hotspur, stooping to the charge,
With many a famed, majestic Percy, moulders.
A thrill of terror rooted me; they seemed to frown,
And menace me with hostile eyes;
Question my right in their domain; and ask,
With looks of accusation, for their son.

Per.
How would their warlike fronts indignant burn,
Could they behold the losel whom thou pitiest!

El.
Who knows, alas, but we have made him such?
Have we not driven him from his native seats
Out to the pitiless world, deprived of all
That makes life dear? Who knows but he has rushed
To pleasure's bowers for shelter from despair?—
Ill-fated youth! the passions that have scathed,
Had, haply, fired thee to immortal deeds,
Shed lustre o'er thy country, decked thy brows
With wreaths unfading as the amaranth.

Per.
Sure thou hast trod the gardens where it blooms,
And learned compassion at the lips of Angels.

El.
I would not purchase greatness at this price,
Would welcome, rather, some obscure retreat;
Nor dream of splendor, save when Fancy spread
Pavilions in the clouds, or tracked the moon,
Or visited those mystic orbs of fire
Spangling heaven's curtains, and beyond them heard
The entrancing viols and unearthly voices,
Sometimes to Saints made audible below,—
Than reign the Queen of an adoring world,
If I must do it in another's right.

Per.
Ah! would to Heaven such justice swayed all hearts.

El.
With but my sire's consent, how pleased would I
Resign these sumptuous halls to their just lord;
Seek Raby's bowers; and never, never more,
Forsake the shades where, like a vision, flew
My happy youth! the scenes of innocence,
Of peace, and sunshine, where my joyous heart
Chimed with the blithest music of the woodlands.
No sorrow there, no secret— (Stops abruptly.)


Per.
Sorrow!
Dares she intrude into a Seraph's breast?
Alas! art thou exposed—

El.
Am I?—Look up,
Presumptuous youth, and, if thou canst, regard
The dazzling summit where the Neville shines.
Do clouds of sorrow roll so high?—Agnes!

(Exit.)
Per.
Vanished again!—What means this changeful mood?
It grows upon her. Even when she seems
Gentlest, and sweetest, breathing from her lips—
Perpetual troubler of my thoughts! by Heaven,
This fellow dogs me.—Well, how now?

Enter Rook, as talking to himself.
Rook.

Per.
How now, I say?

Rook.
(Passes.)

(Exit.)
Per.
I must beware this knave:—
He peers about me with a lynx's eye:
Thrice has surprised me at unguarded moments.
He turns,—I'll cross the brake and hie to Douglas.

(Exit.)