University of Virginia Library

ACT I.

SCENE I.

A Convent in Perth.
Angus, Dunbar.
Dunbar.
But that my Duty calls, I would decline
Th'unwelcome Office.—Now, when Justice waves
Her flaming Sword, and loudly claims her Due,
Thus to arrest her Arm, and offer Terms
Of Peace to Traitors who avow their Crime,
Is to my Apprehension weak, and suits
But little with the Majesty of Kings.—
Why sleeps the wonted Valour of our Prince?

Angus.
Not to th'ensanguin'd Field of Death alone
Is Valour limited: She sits serene
In the delib'rate Council; sagely scans
The Source of Action; weighs, prevents, provides,
And scorns to count her Glories, from the Feats
Of brutal Force alone,—
—What Frenzy were it
To risk our Fortune on th'unsure Event
Of one Occurrence, naked as we are
To unforeseen Disaster, when the Terms
We proffer may retard th'impending Blow?
—Better to conquer by Delay: The Rage
Of Athol's fierce Adherents, flush'd with Hope
Of Plunder and Revenge, will soon abate,
And ev'ry Hour bring Succour to our Cause.

Dunbar.
Well ha'st thou taught me, how the piercing Eye
Of calm Sagacity, excels the Dint
Of headstrong Resolution.—Yet, my Soul
Pants for a fair Occasion to revenge
My Father's Wrongs on Athol's impious Head!
Yes, Angus, while the Blood of March revolves
Within my Veins, the Traitor shall not find
His Perfidy forgot—But what of this?
What are my private Injuries, compar'd
To those he meditates against the State!
Against a Prince with ev'ry Virtue grac'd
That dignifies the Throne, to whom the Ties
Of Kindred and Allegiance could not bind
His faithless Heart: Not ev'n the sacred Bond
Of Friendship unreserv'd!—For well thou know'st,
The King securely list'ned to his Voice,
As to an Oracle.

Angus.
'Twas there indeed
He triumph'd in his Guile!—Th'unwary Prince
Sooth'd by his false Professions, crown'd his Guilt
With boundless Confidence; and little thought
That very Confidence supply'd his Foe
With Means to shake his Throne!—While Athol led
His royal Kinsman thro' the dang'rous Path
Of sudden Reformation, and observ'd
What Murmurs issu'd from the giddy Croud;
Each popular Commotion he improv'd
By secret Ministers; and disavow'd
Those very Measures he himself devised!
Thus cherish'd long by his flagitious Arts,
Rebellion glow'd in secret, 'till at length
His Scheme mature, and all our loyal Thanes
At their own distant Homes repos'd secure,
The Flame burst out.—Now from his native Hills,
With his Accomplice Grime, and youthful Heir,
Impet'ous Stuart, like a sounding Storm
He rushes down with five revolting Clans;
Displays a spurious Title to the Crown,
Arraigns the Justice of his Monarch's Sway,
And by this sudden Torrent, means, no doubt,
To sweep him from the Throne.

Dunbar.
Aspiring Villain!
A fit Associate has he chose: A Wretch
Of Soul more savage breathes not vital Air,
Than Grime:—But Stuart 'till of late, maintain'd
A fairer Fame.

Angus.
A cherish'd Hope expires
In his Dishonour too!—While Stuart's Ear
Was deaf to vicious Counsel, and his Soul
Remained unshaken, by th'enchanting Lure
Which vain Ambition spread before his Eye,
He bloom'd the Pride of Caledonia's Youth,
In Virtue, Valour and external Grace:—
For thou sole Rival of his Fame, wa'st train'd
To martial Deeds, in Climes remote.

Dunbar.
O Thane!
Whatever Wreaths from Danger's Steely Crest
My Sword hath won; whatever Toils sustain'd
Beneath the sultry Noon, and cold, damp Night;
Could ne'er obtain for me one genial Smile
Of Her, who bless'd that happy Rival's Vows
With mutual Love!—Why should I dread to own
The tender Throbbings of my captive Heart!
The melting Passion which has long inspir'd
My Breast for Eleonora, and implore
A Parent's Sanction to support my Claim?

Angus.
Were she more fair and gentle than she is,
And to my partial Eye, nought e'er appear'd
So gently fair, I would approve thy Claim
To her peculiar Smiles.

Dunbar.
Then will I strive
With unremitted Ardour, to subdue
Her coy Reluctance; while I scorn the Threats
Of frantic Jealousy that flames unrein'd
In Stuart's Breast!—But see! the fair one comes,
In all the Pride of dazz'ling Charms array'd.

SCENE II.

Angus, Dunbar, Eleonora.
Eleonora.
Something of Moment, by a fresh Dispatch
Imparted to the King, requires in Haste
The Presence of my Sire.

Angus.
Forbear a while
Thy Parly with the Foe; and here attend
Our Consultation's Issue.—
[Exit Angus.

SCENE III.

Dunbar, Eleonora.
Dunbar.
Ill it suits
A Soldier's Tongue, to plead the Cause of Love,
In Phrase adapted to the tender Theme:
But trust me, beauteous Wonder! when I swear
Not the keen Impulse, and impatient Hope
Of Glory, glowing in the Warrior's Breast,
With more awak'ned Transport, fill'd my Soul
When the fierce Battle rag'd, than that I feel
At thy Approach!—My Tongue has oft reveal'd
The Dictates of my Heart; but thou, averse
With cold Disdain, hast ever chill'd my Hopes,
And scorn'd my proffer'd Vows!—

Eleonora.
O Youth, beware!
Let not the flow'ry Scenes of Joy and Peace,
That faithless Passion to the View presents,
Ensnare thee into Woe!—Thou little know'st
What Mischiefs lurk in each deceitful Charm;
What Griefs attend on Love.—

Dunbar.
Keen are the Pangs
Of hapless Love, and Passion unapprov'd:
But where consenting Wishes meet, and Vows
Reciprocally breath'd, confirm the Tie,
Joy rolls on Joy, an inexhausted Stream!
And Virtue crowns the sacred Scene with Peace!

Eleonora.
Illusion all! the Phantoms of a Mind
That o'er its present Fate repining, Courts
The vain Resource of Fancy's airy Dreams.—
War is thy Province.—War be thy Pursuit.—

Dunbar.
O! thou would tell me, I am Savage all—
Too much estrang'd to the soft Arts of Life,
To warm thy Breast!—Yes, War has been my School—
War's rough Sincerity, unskill'd in Modes
Of peaceful Commerce—Soften'd not the less
To pious Truth, Humanity and Love.

Eleonora.
Yes:—I were envious to refuse Applause,
When ev'ry Mouth is open'd in thy Praise.—
I were ungrateful not to yield thee more,
Distinguish'd by thy Choice; and tho' my Heart
Denies thee Love, thy Virtues have acquir'd
Th'Esteem of Eleonora.

Dunbar.
O! thy Words
Would fire the hoary Hermit's languid Soul
With Extasies of Pride!—How then shall I,
Elate with ev'ry vainer Hope, that warms
Th'aspiring Thought of Youth, thy Praise sustain
With Moderation?—Cruelly benign!
Thou hast adorn'd the Victim; but, alas!
Thou likewise giv'st the Blow!—
Tho' Nature's Hand
With so much Art has blended ev'ry Grace
In thy enchanting Form, that ev'ry Eye
With Transport views thee, and conveys unseen
The soft Infection to the vanquish'd Soul,
Yet wilt thou not the gentle Passion own,
That vindicates thy Sway!—

Eleonora.
O gilded Curse!
More fair than rosy Morn, when first she smiles
O'er the dew-brighten'd Verdure of the Spring!
But more deceitful, tyrannous, and fell,
Than Syrens, Tempests, and devouring Flame!
May I ne'er sicken, languish and despair
Within thy dire Domain!—Listen ye Powers!
And yield your Sanction to my purpos'd Vow—
—If e'er my Breast—

[Kneeling.
Dunbar.
For ever let me pine
In secret Misery, divorc'd from Hope!
But ah, forbear! nor forfeit thy own Peace
Perhaps in one rash Moment—

SCENE IV.

Dunbar, Eleonora, Herald.
Herald.
—From the Tower
That fronts the Hills, due North, a moving Host
Is now descry'd: And from the southern Gate
A Cloud of Dust is seen to roll, the Gleam
Of burnish'd Arms, oft thro' the dusky Sphere
Salutes the dazzled Eye;—a loyal Band
With valiant Ramsay, from the Banks of Tweed,
That hastens to our Aid.—The first, suppos'd
The rebel Train of Athol.—By Command
Of Angus, I attend thee, to demand
An Audience of the Foe.

Dunbar.
I follow straight.
[Exit Herald.
Whate'er is amiably fair—Whate'er
Inspires the gen'rous Aim of chaste Desire,
My Soul contemplates and adores in thee!
Yet will I not with vain Complainings, vex
Thy gentle Nature.—My unblemish'd Love
Shall plead in my Behalf.
[Exit Dunbar.

SCENE V.

Eleonora.
Adieu brave Youth!
Why art thou doom'd to suffer fruitless Pains!
And why, alas! am I the destin'd Wretch
That must inflict them?—Agonizing Thought!
I yielded up my fond, believing Heart
To him who basely left it, for the Charms
Of treacherous Ambition!—hapless Stuart!
How art thou chang'd! how lost! thy cruel Fate,
Like a false Harlot, smiles thee into Ruin!

SCENE VI.

Enter Stuart disguised like a Priest.
Stuart, Eleonora,
Stuart.
The mighty Schemes of Empire, soar too high
For your Distinction, Daughter.—Simple Woman
Is weak in Intellect, as well as Frame,
And judges often from the partial Voice
That sooths her Wishes most.

[Discovering himself.
Eleonora.
Ha, frantic Youth!
What guilty Purpose leads thy daring Steps
To this forbidden Place?—Art thou not come
Beneath that sacred Veil, the more to brave
Th'avenging Hand of Heav'n?

Stuart.
No—that I tread
The Paths of Danger, where each Bosom pants
With keen Revenge against me, speaks aloud
The Fervour of my Love—My Love misplac'd!
Else, would'st thou not receive the gen'rous Proof
With Anger and Disdain.—

Eleonora.
Have I not Cause
To drive thee from my Heart?—Hast thou not chac'd
All Faith, and Truth, and Loyalty from thine?
Say, hast thou not conspir'd against thy Prince?
A Prince! who cherish'd thee with parent Zeal,
With Friendship honour'd thee, and ev'ry Day
With bounteous Favour crown'd thy rising Wish!

Stuart.
Curse on his Arts!—his Aim was to enslave
Th'aspiring Soul, to stifle and repress
Th'emerging Dictates of my native Right,
To efface the glowing Images within,
Awak'd by Glory, and retain by Fraud
The Sceptre he usurps!

Eleonora.
Insidious Charge!
As feeble as unjust! for, clear as Day
In Course direct—

Stuart.
In idle Argument
Let us not now consume the precious Hour;
The middle Stream is pass'd; and the safe Shore
Invites our dauntless Footsteps—Yonder Sun
That climbs the Noon-tide Arch, already sees
Twelve thousand Vassals, marching in the Train
Of warlike Athol; and before the Shades
Of Ev'ning deepen, Perth's devoted Walls
Will shake before them—E'er the Tempest roars,
I come to snatch thee from th'impending Storm—

Eleonora.
O impotent of Thought!—O! dead to Shame!
Shall I for pompous Infamy forego
Th'internal Peace that Virtue calls her own!

Stuart.
Or, say, thy Love inconstant as the Wave,
Another Object claims.—False—perjur'd Maid!
I mark'd thy Minion, as he charm'd thine Ear
With grov'ling Adulation.—Yes, I saw
Thy Looks, in artful Languishment, disclose
Thy yielding Soul, and heard thy Tongue proclaim
The Praises of Dunbar.—

Eleonora.
Away—away!
I scorn thy mean Suspicion, and renounce
Thy Passion with thy Crimes.—Tho' bred in Camps,
Dunbar is gentle, gen'rous and humane;
Possess'd of ev'ry manly Grace, to win
The coyest Virgin's Heart.—

Stuart.
Perdition whelm
The prostrate Sycophant!—may Heav'n exhaust
Its Thunder on my Head—may Hell disgorge
Infernal Plagues to blast me, if I cease
To persecute the Caitif, 'till his Blood
Assuage my parch'd, Revenge!—perfidious Slave!
To steal between me and my darling Hope!—
The Traitor durst not, had I been—O Vows!
Where is your Obligation?—Eleonora!
O lovely Curse! restore me to myself!—

Eleonora.
Rage on fierce Youth, more savage than the Storm
That howls on Thule's Shore!—th'unthrifty Maid
Too credulously fond! who gave away
Her Heart so lavishly, deserves to wed
The Woes that from her Indiscretion flow!—
—Yet ev'n my Folly should, with thee, obtain
A fairer Title and a kinder Fate!—

Stuart.
Ha! weep'st thou?—witness all ye sacred Pow'rs!
Her Philtres have undone me!—lo, my Wrath
Subsides again to Love!—Enchantress! say,
Why hast thou robb'd me of my Reason thus?

Eleonora.
Has Eleonora robb'd thee!—O recal
Those flatt'ring Arts thy own Deceit employ'd
To wreck my Peace!—recal thy fervent Vows
Of constant Faith—thy Sighs and ardent Looks!
Then whisper to thy Soul, those Vows were false—
Those Sighs unfaithful, and those Looks disguis'd!

Stuart.
Thou—thou art chang'd—but Stuart still the same!
Ev'n while thou chid'st me, ev'ry tender Wish
Awakes anew, and in my glowing Breast
Unutterable Fondness pants again!—
—Wilt thou not smile again, as when, reclin'd
By Tay's smooth-gliding Stream, we softly breath'd
Our mutual Passion to the vernal Breeze?

Eleonora.
Adieu—dear Scenes adieu!—ye fragrant Paths
So courted once!—ye spreading Boughs, that wave
Your Blossoms o'er the Stream!—delightful Shades!
Where the bewitching Music of thy Tongue,
First charm'd my captive Soul!—when gentle Love
Inspir'd the soothing Tale!—Love—sacred Love
That lighted up his Flame at Virtue's Lamp!—

Stuart.
In Time's eternal Round, shall we not hail
Another Season equally serene?—
—To Day, in Snow array'd, stern Winter rules
The ravag'd Plain—Anon the teeming Earth
Unlocks her Stores, and Spring adorns the Year:
And shall not we—while Fate, like Winter, frowns,
Expect revolving Bliss?

Eleonora.
—Would'st thou return
To Loyalty and me—my faithful Heart
Would welcome thee again!—

Angus
Within.
Guard ev'ry Gate
That none may 'scape—

Eleonora.
Ha!—whither wilt thou fly?
Discover'd and beset?

Stuart.
Let Angus come—
His short-liv'd Pow'r I scorn—

[Throws away his Disguise.

SCENE VII.

Enter Angus with Guards, Stuart, Eleonora.
Angus.
What dark Resolve
By gloomy Athol plann'd, has hither led
Thy Steps presumptuous?—Eleonora, hence.—
It ill befits thee—but, no more—away—
I'll brook no Answer—
[Exit Eleonora.
—Is it not enough,
To lift Rebellion's impious Brand on high,
And scorch the Face of Faith; that ye thus creep
In ruffian Ambush, seeking to perform
The Deed ye dare not trust to open War?

Stuart.
Thou little know'st me—or thy rankling Hate
Defrauds my Courage.—Wherefore should I skulk
Like the dishonour'd Wretch, whose hireling Steel
In secret lifted, reeks with human Gore,
When valiant Athol hastens at the Head
Of warlike Thousands, to assert our Cause?

Angus.
The Cause of Treason never was confin'd
To Deeds of open War; but still adopts
The Stab of crouching Murder.—Thy Revolt,
The stern Contraction of thy sullen Brow,
And this Disguise, Apostate! speak thee bent
On fatal Errand.—

Stuart.
That thou seest me here
Unarm'd, alone, from Angus might obtain
A fair Interpretation—Stuart's Love
Pleads not in mystic Terms; nor are my Vows
To Eleonora, cancell'd or unknown—
Vows by thyself indulg'd, e'er Envy yet,
Or Folly had induc'd thee, to embrace
The Fortunes of our Foe.—Thy foul Reproach
My Soul retorts on thee! and mark, proud Lord,
Revenge will have its Turn!—

Angus.
Ha! must I bear
A beardless Traitor's Insults?—'tis not mine
To wage a fruitless War of Words with thee,
Vain-glorious Stripling.—While thine Aims were just,
I seal'd thy Title to my Daughter's Love;
But now, begrim'd with Treason, as thou art,
By Heav'n! not Diadems and Thrones shall bribe
My Approbation!—but the King himself
Shall judge thy Conduct.—Guards—

SCENE VIII.

Enter Eleonora, who kneels.
—O! let me thus
Implore Compassion, at a Parent's Knees,
Who ne'r refus'd.—

Angus.
—Convey him hence.—
[Stuart is led off.
—Arise—
Remember, Eleonora, from what Source
Thine Origin is drawn.—Thy Mother's Soul
In Purity excell'd the snowy Fleece
That cloaths our northern Hills!—her youthful Charms,
Her artless Blush, her Look severely sweet,
Her Dignity of Mien and Smiles of Love
Survive in thee—Let me behold thee too
Her Honour's Heiress—
[Exit Angus.

SCENE IX.

Eleonora.
—Yes—I will adhere
To this ill-omen'd Honour! sacrifice
Life's promis'd Joys to its austere Decree;
And vindicate the Glories of my Race,
At the sad Price of Peace!—If Athol's Arms
(Which Heav'n avert!) to Treason add Success;
My Father's Death will join his Sov'reign's Fall!
And if the Cause of Royalty prevail,
Each languid Hope with Stuart must expire!—
From Thought to Thought, perplex'd, in vain I stray,
To pining Anguish doom'd, and fell Dismay!