 | Glencoe |  |
SCENE I.
The Hall of Halbert's Tower.Time—Daybreak.
Enter Lady Macdonald with a Letter, followed by Drummond, in the uniform of the Earl of Argyle's Regiment.
LADY MACDONALD.
Thanks for your pains. Let me devour again
The precious characters. (Reads.)
“I come, dear mother,
Raised to high favour and command, to take
My quarters in your vale.” The morn's faint light
Had scarce enabled eyes less glad than mine
To read;—they are dazzled now. [To the Soldier.]
Pray you go in:
We have poor entertainment to bestow,
But our best cheer is yours.
DRUMMOND.
I must return
Upon the instant; shall I bear your answer?
LADY MACDONALD.
There is no need; he speeds; his eager wish,
If I may judge it by my own, will add
Wings to his swiftness. Yet a moment stay;
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Is he of gallant port?
SOLDIER.
Our regiment's pride,
And first in favour of Glenlyon.
LADY MACDONALD.
Take
A happy mother's thanks.
[Exit Soldier.
I shall behold
A hero whom I parted from a child;
Trace in his lineaments the hints which gave
Sweet promise of his manhood; shall enjoy
In one rich hour the pleasures which are spread
Through years to her who watches the degrees
Of youth's expanding brightness. Where is Halbert?
Where Helen? She will laugh with wildest glee
To find her little playmate a plumed soldier,
And share his mirth. No gaiety like his
Has cheer'd her since he left us. She is here.
Enter Helen Campbell.
HELEN.
So early raised to meet the morning's chill?
LADY MACDONALD.
I feel no chill; the ecstacy within me
Clothes all without with summer; you shall share
In joy which seldom visits these old walls.
HELEN.
O say not so;—there's not a day but bears
Its blessing on its light. If Nature doles
Her gifts with sparing hand, their rareness sheds
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From greenest valleys. The pure rill which casts
Its thread of snow-like lustre o'er the rock,
Which seems to pierce the azure sky, connects
The thoughts of earth with heaven, while mightier floods
Roar of dark passions. The rare sunbeam wins
For a most slight existence human care,
While it invests some marble heap with gleams
Of palaced visions. If the tufts of broom
Whence Fancy weaves a chain of gold, appear,
On nearer visitation, thinly strewn,
Each looks a separate bower, and offers shade
To its own group of fairies. The prized harebell
Wastes not its dawning azure on a bank
Rough and confused with loveliness, but wears
The modest story of its gentle life
On leaves that love has tended; nay, the heath,
Which, slowly from a stinted root, unfolds
Pale lilac blossoms,—image of a maid
Rear'd in a solitude like this,—is bless'd,
Instead of sharing with a million flowers
One radiant flush,—in offering its faint bloom
To fondest eyes. Say not again, dear lady,
That joy but seldom visits these old walls.
LADY MACDONALD.
Not while they shelter you, my lovely child;
But new joy waits us; you have not forgotten
Our careless Henry?
HELEN.
No!—forgotten Henry!
But he has long forgotten us; no message
Has told us of his welfare, since he found us
Too sad for his companions.
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Pardon in him,
As I do, young ambition's upward gaze,
Which, fix'd upon the future, cannot turn
To glance upon the distant and the past.
HELEN.
Is it indeed so, madam?
LADY MACDONALD.
You are grave now—
You who are joyous in our weariest days
Be glad; for Henry will this day return
To charm us with his merriment.
HELEN.
To-day?
Henry return to-day! Speak once again
That blessed news.
LADY MACDONALD.
He comes to-day, upraised
In Argyle's regiment to command, and graced
With favour of Glenlyon.
HELEN.
Of my uncle?
I think of him unseen, as a stern soldier
Who, living to obey and to command,
Allows no impulses but these which guide
Along the rocky, strait, untinted channel,
That discipline has hewn. If Henry wins
Favour from him, he'll win the hearts of all.
Comes he alone?
LADY MACDONALD.
His troop is quarter'd with us,
To taste in peace our simple Highland fare,
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For Halbert's presence; though he does not love
The clansmen of Argyle, he must rejoice
In Henry's fortune.
HELEN.
He has not return'd
Since, yestere'en, he left us to inquire
The issue of Mac Ian's journey.
LADY MACDONALD.
You
Alarm me;—not return'd?
HELEN.
Fear not for Halbert;
You know he loves to wander at all hours,
And, ever present to himself, will rule
His course in safety. Is that he? The step
Is hurried; yet it should be his.
Enter Halbert greatly agitated;—throws himself into a seat.
LADY MACDONALD.
My son,
What ails you? Speak!
HALBERT.
I will—soon—presently;
Ha! Mother! Helen! safe;—thank Heaven! Has nothing
To-night appall'd you?
LADY MACDONALD.
Nothing.
HALBERT.
That is strange.
LADY MACDONALD.
What has befall'n us? Is Mac Ian dead?
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No; he survives; he has only lost the thing
Which makes life precious!—Ruin yawns for all—
Poor fated clansmen! I have heard again
Old Moina's voice.
LADY MACDONALD.
Her voice who spake when death—
HALBERT
(laying his hand on her arm).
Mother!
LADY MACDONALD.
He shivers as with ague. Speak, my son!
HALBERT.
Yes—it is over now.—I'll tell you all,
As far as words can tell it. As I left
Mac Ian's door, and walk'd in mist, which clung
Around me like a shroud, that voice shriek'd forth
Close at mine ear, “The Hour is nigh!”—Each cliff,
Pillar, and cavern, echo'd back the words,
Till they appear'd to fill the glen with sound,
As floods from thousand streams might deluge it.
'Twas no delusion; surely as you hear
My voice, I heard them.
LADY MACDONALD.
You have mused, my son,
In dismal solitudes on our old tales
Till each wild pass is haunted, and the wind,
Struggling within a mountain gully, moans
Or shrieks with prophecy.
HALBERT.
No!—It transfix'd me
As with an arrow,—when it sunk, still night
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Our three huge mountain bulwarks stood in light,
Strange, solemn, spectral;—not as if they tower'd
Majestic into heaven, but hoar and bow'd
Beneath the weight of centuries; and each
Sent forth a sound as of a giant's sigh:
Then, from their feet the mists arising, grew
To shapes resembling human, till I saw,
Dimly reveal'd among the ghastly train,
Familiar forms of living clansmen, dress'd
In vestments of the tomb;—they glided on,
While strains of martial music from afar
Mock'd their sad flight.—
[A distant band heard playing “The Campbells are coming.”
I hear that music now,—
The same—the same—Do you not hear it, Helen?
Mother?
HELEN.
I hear a lively strain which speaks,
Approaching soldiers, who'll make winter bright
And fill our vale with gladness.
HALBERT.
There is death
In those blithe sounds;—I know them now;—the tune
Which wakes the shallow heart of false Argyle,
Hollow and cruel ever.
HELEN.
Sure there's one
Who owns that clan you would not spurn!
HALBERT.
Sweet girl!
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And planted in an honest soil, retains
No vestige of its origin.
[The music is heard approaching.
Yet nearer!
Look not on me with those beseeching eyes;
[To Helen.
I will enjoy it;—'tis a gallant strain:
See, Helen, how you mould me;—I can smile now.
HELEN.
And you shall smile; while you have been enthrall'd
By dismal fancies, we have heard sweet news
Of our long-sigh'd-for Henry.
HALBERT.
Of my brother?
Shall we embrace him soon?
HELEN.
We hope to-day.
HALBERT.
Then I will cast all sadness from my thoughts,
And own these portents idle;—my fair brother,
Who in staid manhood made me feel a child,
While I instructed him with tiny arm
To brave the torrent to its whirling pool
O'er rocky ledge descending! I am a boy
Again in thinking of it.
[Enter Henry Macdonald in the dress of an officer of the Earl of Argyle's Regiment; Halbert starts and stands apart; Lady Macdonald eagerly embraces Henry.
LADY MACDONALD.
O, most welcome!
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(apart).
A soldier of Argyle! a purchased slave
To his poor country's foes! Would he had lain,
In all the glory of his youth, a corpse,
Or I had died first!
HELEN
(laying her hand imploringly on Halbert's).
Halbert, speak to him.
HALBERT.
Yes;—I'll not dash that bonnet from his brow;
Right, right—I'll speak to him. My brother!
[Henry embraces Halbert, who receives him coldly.
HENRY.
Stiff
And melancholy grown! These rugged walls
Have shed their sullen gloom into your nature,
And made my welcome cold.
HALBERT.
These walls are sacred—
Fit home for honest poverty; 'twere well
If you had never left them.
HENRY
(approaching Helen).
They contain
One form of radiant loveliness;—is this
My some-time playmate Helen? You are silent;
You do not bid me welcome.
HELEN.
Welcome, Henry?
It is because my heart's too full of welcome
To vent its joy in words.
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(apart).
So fond! so free!
This stripling will engage the care of all
Within my little world;—for shame! the thought
Is selfish and most base; I must suppress it.—
[Aloud.
You'll spend some time, I hope, in these poor walls,
And teach us to be gay.
HENRY.
Our regiment mean
To teach your clan the finest of all lessons—
The art of spending life. We hope to raise
Strange echoes of delight among your mountains.
Let your old men prepare their choicest tales
Of ancient chiefs; your lads their sinews brace
For noontide games and midnight dances; bid
Your maidens' hearts be stout, for we shall lay
Fair siege to some of them. Your mansion, brother,
Will not be colder, if you'll deign to share
A soldier's purse.
[Henry offers a purse to Halbert, who is about to dash it on the ground, but restrains his passion; pauses and returns it. They speak apart from Lady Macdonald and Helen.
HALBERT.
Remove it from my sight,
Lest it provoke my curse upon the gold,
Which, having tempted Scotland's peers to sell
Their country, pass'd through treacherous hands to yours.
HENRY.
Through treacherous hands! I will not hear that said:
Expend your spleen on me; but speak a word
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And though my brother, you shall answer it.
HALBERT.
You make me smile now. I will answer it.
I must have speedy speech with you, where none
Shall break upon us.
HENRY.
At my earliest leisure.
[To Lady Macdonald.
Mother, my duty calls me hence awhile,
To hear my captain's orders. Helen, soon
I shall reclaim old friendship.
[Apart to Halbert.]
In an hour,
Upon Loch Leven's margin, 'neath the shade
Of the first rock, expect me.
HALBERT.
Do not fail.
[Exit Henry.
LADY MACDONALD.
Come, Helen, let us see the tower prepared
To feast our noble soldier and his friends.
Is he not all a mother's hope could image?
HELEN.
He is indeed;—at first he scarcely knew me;
Changed as he is, I had not mistaken him
Among a host of heroes!
[Exeunt Helen and Lady Macdonald.
HALBERT
(alone).
Down, wild rage!
These rebel passions ought to fright me more
Than night's grim phantoms. I had deem'd my temper
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But this—my brother self-sold to our foes!—
I must be conqueror still.
(Looks out.)
O, blessed star
Of morning, do you wait upon that cone
Whose whiteness mocks our marble, to renew
The calm cerulean distance can impart
To thoughts of earth's brief struggles? Linger yet!
It sinks; 'tis gone; its peace is in my soul.
[Exit Halbert.
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