University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

A room in Hamilton's country house, near the mountains.
Craigburn, Brycefield, and Hamilton discovered.
Bryce.
The night is bitter.

Ham.
Heap the fagots higher,
Let's have a glow as fierce as the brave hearts
That kindle at the stroke of wrong, to fire!

Craig.
Was that the tramp of horse?

Bryce.
No; but the roar
Of the swoll'n torrent in the pausing wind.

Ham.
How long, just Heaven, wilt Thou forbear to smite
These sons of Belial? In the book of time
No page of bloody tyranny is writ
More foul than theirs. Our people hunted down,
Put to the sword, or from the cruel rack.
Borne to the scaffold! Why? Because they cleave
To Scotland's ancient faith, and will not brook
The claim of England's Church to bind their souls.

Craig.
Woe to these wolves of Edom! Double woe
To this licentious king, who desolates
The sanctuary he swore to spare!

Bryce.
To spare!
Nay, to defend. But what to Charles are oaths?
False to his friend as to his land, what boon
Requites the wealth my father lost for his?
Our home, seized by his foes, Charles repossess'd
But not restored. A wanton and a flatterer
Divide our fief between them!

Ham.
Peace, John Brycefield!
Too much thou broodest on a private wrong,
Too little on a suffering Church.

Bryce.
My injuries
Are warrant for my truth.
[A distant report of carbines.
Ah! now your ears,
That was no brawl of rivers.
[Another and nearer volley.
There again!
Mars, sirs, is up! I've known his strain from boyhood.

Ham.
Put by this heathenish lingo.

Bryce.
Heathen names
Consort with heathen deeds. The ring of hoofs—
They come!

Ham.
[Drawing.]
Then death to him who enters first!

Craig.
Too hasty, Robert! What are cloaks for?
See!

[He snatches his cloak, and conceals his sword under it; the rest do the like.
Bryce.
The tramp grows fainter—now it dies away;
They hawk at other quarry.

Ham.
Footsteps!

[A low knocking is heard at door, and twice repeated.
Craig.
Hist!
'Tis Allan's signal. Quick! unbar the door.

[Brycefield opens the door, and admits John Balfour of Burley, and Andrew Keith.
Ham.
Burley!

Bur.
The same.

Ham.
[Giving his hand.]
You're welcome, and your comrade—
What, Andrew Keith! More outrage!

Bur.
[To Keith.]
Speak thou, pastor,
And be thy speech the trumpet which proclaims
The pouring forth of vials.

Keith.
To the vale
Our scatter'd children, eager for the food
Which more than bread sustains, their footsteps bent;
A strain of supplication blent with praise
Rose with one voice from hundreds, when a cry
Rang from the hills—“The foe!—the oppressor!—hence!”
Unarmed, we fled; but malice, swifter far
Than love of life, pursued. From throats of fire
The deadly missile leapt. Some sank in flight:
Others with upraised hands, whose happy souls
O'ertook their mounting prayers. Then midst our band
Plunged the destroyers. With fierce yells they cried,
“The Test, the Test!” The lifted sabre fell
On all who spurned that oath; the goodly youth—
The old man's prop—dropped from him and expired;
The mother's arm, locked round her boy, relaxed,
And left the orphan to the orphan's God!

Ham.
And how escaped you?

Keith.
Their impetuous haste
O'erleaped the spot I stood on, and the thirst
Of carnage drove them onwards. When they passed
By the ravine, I sought for shelter here,
And so encountered Burley.

Ham.
Have we hearts,
And hands, and bear this? Shall no blow be struck
To tell the oppressors we are men?

Craig.
There shall:
But yet be wary, learn our strength. How stand we?

Bur.
Hundreds await my signal, humble folk
The most part; but in resolution fixed,
By trial bred to patience. Most we need
Wealth and high names to aid; and yet I count
On Cochrane, Mowbray, Hume, and you methinks
[To Hamilton.
A convert pledged whose aid outweighs them all.

Craig.
Whom?

Bur.
Halbert Strathmore.

Craig.
Strathmore! are you mad?
You never broke this enterprise to him!

Ham.
I did—why not?

Craig.
He's of a line whose boast
Is fealty to the Stewart—the near friend
Of that malignant Rupert Lorn, betrothed
Unto his daughter!

Ham.
Grant this, and then add
What Strathmore is himself. I know him best,
So best can speak him—generous, firm, and just.

Keith.
My much-loved pupil
While he was yet a child. He still hath been
Temperate and mild, and though by birth allied
To the oppressors, oft hath curb'd their hate.

Bur.
What answer made he?

Ham.
That he needed time
And thought for his decision. In deep strife
'Twas plain his spirit travailed. Custom, name,
The ties of kindred and of love—that sense
Of nearer kin than blood—together leagued
Against his struggling conscience.

Bryce.
Of such war,
Too clear the issue. Strathmore will disown us,
Perhaps betray.

Ham.
Betray! You think of Brycefield
And speak of Strathmore.
[A low knocking, as before.
Allan! Hush!
[He admits Allan.
Your news?

Allan.
A messenger from Strathmore; he brings letters.

[He goes out.
Ham.
From Strathmore! Did you heed? He has decided:
The issue shall condemn, or free me. Come,
Our frugal meal is spread; while that recruits
Our bodily strength, I trust for news shall fire
Our souls with hope and vigour!

Keith.
Peace prevail
If peace consist with duty.

[All go out but Brycefield, who lingers behind.
Bryce.
So, so, friends,
'Tis thus ye guerdon service! Hamilton
Distrusts and taunts me; Craigburn just endures;
The vengeance that I bear to ingrate Charles
Had need be deep, that I should brook these taunts
And write my soldier name upon the list
Of these fierce bigots. Yet, will I be true
For my own ends. Oh, bitter curse when pride
Is slave to want, and crawls; but crawls to climb!

[He goes out.