University of Virginia Library

Scene I

(A magnificent apartment in Holyrood House, Edinburgh, splendidly decorated for a fancy ball, in the center of which a throne of purple is raised, embroidered with gold against which leans the harp of the Minstrel of Mirandola. Enter Highland ladies and gentlemen, who dance to delightful music. Enter Charles Stuart as king, Flora Macdonald as Melpomene, Madalena, or the Page, as Apollo, and Sir Ronald as Mars.)
Charles Stuart
(Leading Apollo to the throne.)
Swell high the joyful notes! swell high the joyful song!
And let thy trembling fingers kiss the strings
As softly as the zephyrs sigh amen.
Thy raven locks, now flowing on thy neck
Of alabaster purity. Break forth
And let thy modulations be so soft
As echoes from the sighs of those that love.
Apollo's Song
If you break the smallest link
In the softest earthly chain,
Save the one of which I think,
You may mend it oft again;
But the heart that ever is riven,
Oh, it cannot mended be,
For its links were made in Heaven,
And the smiles that came from thee.
If you rob the turtle's nest,
If her little ones she tries,
All the next day to find rest,
With her pinions in the skies;
And, alas! wherever driven,
She is willing there to be
Just because she has no Heaven,
Like my soul, love, without thee!

(The king and Mars retire among the crowd to the back of the stage, while Melpomene, who has been gazing on him intently, approaches him with the Golden Violet of Minstrelsy.)
Melpomene
If tales of other times be true, sweet Page,
Thou art indeed the God of Minstrelsy.)

Apollo
And thou, sweet Melpomene, the Tragic Muse.

Melpomene
As thy acinthus was of yore to young
Catona's child, so let me be to thee.
And let the badge of Minstrelsy be placed,
By Caledonia's mournful flower upon
Thy youthful heart. (Placing it on his heart.)


Apollo
I thank thee, Queen of Love,
For who would not be crowned by thy fair hand,
When in thy sunny smiles the meanest flower
Is made to blossom in eternal youth.

Melpomene
Relinquish not thy hold, fair gentle youth.
And let the flower of Caledonia's isle
Present thee, kneeling, with the richest gift
That ever shone on earth, an honest heart.

Apollo
Thy heart, fair lady! No, the gift were far
Too great for aught but Caledonia's son.

Melpomene
And may not Caledonia's Mournful Flower
Be made the Crown of thy divinity?

Apollo
'Tis prudence, not disdain, forbids it now.
But were thy Minstrel aught but what he is,
Thou shouldst behold thy more than beauteous smiles
Reflected from the mirror of his soul,
As clearly as Diana's face in Heaven
Beholds her likeness in the lowly sea;
For thy art now as far above thy Page,
As was Diana when she left her Heaven
To seek Endymion on the Carian Mount.

Melpomene
Nay, why the downcast sadness of thine eyes,
In which there is so much of love divine,
As if the schoolboy's genius had been just
Rebuked in innocence? Nay, look not so.

Apollo
Were thy Fernando to receive thy gift
He could not make thee suitable amends,
And thou, his benefactor, wouldst have power
To bind his soul in thraldom from this hour,
Even to the sullying of his purity.
When next we meet, fair lady mine, thou wilt
Forgive me for declining thy fair hand,
And save me from imploring pardon now.

(Descending from the throne.)
Melpomene
Stay, gentle youth! Depart not from me yet!

Apollo
Nay, thou shalt lift thy drooping head ere long,
And give thy odor to the godlike Charles,
Thou hadst forgotten he was king? Farewell!
(Exit Apollo.)

Melpomene
The king! (Charles Stuart comes forward.)

My royal Charles—thy Page is my king.
A nobler being never lived on earth.

Charles Stuart
He is so hale, he seems not of this world,
But of some glorious sphere where all is love.

(They dance again to delightful musick when the king and Melpomene retire to the back of the stage. Reenter Apollo as Nymph of Dian.)
Mars
(Hastily approaching her.)
Sweet Nymph of Dian! Oh, that beauteous face!
Now to the snowy wings of hope lead me
Again into the rosy bowers of peace,
Where Beauty is made noble in love.
Sweet Nymph, the God of War alone should lead
Thee through the mazy dance.

Nymph of Dian
The God of War
Should seek some hand more suited to his taste.
The Nymph of Dian, drawn by four white stags
In chariot of rich pearl, would ill befit
The Thunder-Phaeton of the God of War.

Mars
There is but one immortal thing on earth,
That is the soul—that soul is love—that love
Can bring the gods down from their lofty thrones,
And bind them here on earth with rosy hands.

Nymph of Dian
Whose flowing festoons they must often break,
And, bringing their most precious leaves to earth,
Inhale the fragrance of the dying flower
With more than wanton joy.

Mars
Such never loved.
As divers value most the pearl that they
Have fetched from stormy seas, so will my soul
Value the jewel snatched from hours like these;
For love is strongest in the boldest heart;
The dulness of the quiet hour will make
The lion feeble.

Nymph of Dian
Woman is not so.
The strongest of her affections is the same
In hours of greatest peril as in peace;
She is the same unchanging thing you see—
Full of undying love. But I have loved.
'Tis said the smiles of woman's love fall on
Thy heart like moonlight on the crystal rill
That winter has congealed.

Mars
It has been so;
But now affection's day-god melts away
The unsunned ice that froze my formal heart,
And lets its crystal fountains loose for thee.
Th' immortal beauty of thy face is now
Buffeted from the mirror of that stream,
Which thy sweet notes have thawed to flowing love.
See how Diana climbs the Hills of Heaven, (Looking out.)

As if she sought the chambers of the Sun,
Meek as the soul that seeks thy love tonight,
For as the night without the glorious Moon,
So is my soul without thy richer smiles.

Nymph of Dian
How sad she seems.

Mars
What looks she like to thee?

Nymph of Dian
Priligion leaning on the breast of God.

Mars
See how she gazes on this world below
As if she wondered how we love so much,
Not knowing that my soul burns on for thee,
In ceaseless splendor like her own sweet light.

Nymph of Dian
I would not be ungrateful for the world;
The ungrateful soul is like the faithless dog,
That snarls while eating from his master's hand;
I, therefore, smile upon the noble Mars,
And give him thanks.

Mars
Nay, do not leave me yet!
The rose exhaling its sweets to heaven
Invites the florist to its native bower.

Nymph of Dian
Yes, we must part.

Mars
Not yet.

Nymph of Dian
Indeed, we must

Mars
There is no glory in the warriour's strife,
Wherein his soul is prompted to high deeds,
So spirit-stirring as one hour with thee.
The Moon, now holding of her silent course
In Heaven, moves not along that blue serene
With grace more pensive than thy gentle steps
Sped like the antelopes in joy to me.

Nymph of Dian
But say, thou hast forgot the Minstrel Boy?

Mars
Ah, dost thou know that generous boy?

Nymph of Dian
I do;
And see you have forgotten him that said,
But now, you never could forget.

Mars
That boy;
I never will forget him in the world.
But have you seen the face of that fair youth?

Nymph of Dian
I have most noble Mars. I learn he is
Thy chief companion.

Mars
Nearest to my heart
Of all on earth, except the one who now
Adores him more than she dare say.

Nymph of Dian
I do,
Great Mars, adore that gentle youth.

Mars
Dost love
That gentle boy?

Nymph of Dian
With all my heart. Why, is
It strange the Nymph of Dian should so love?

Mars
It is not strange for no one ever saw
His face, who did not love.

Nymph of Dian
I am in love.
Wilt thou not recommend me to that Page?
Come, thou shalt promise me when next we meet,
That this same Page shall speak of me in terms
Borrowed from thy most lofty praise.

Mars
All that
The tongue of man can say shall then be said.
(Aside.)
That is the first time Ronald ever lied!
(Exit Nymph of Dian.)
I would not have her to behold that Page
For Stuart's wealth in Caledonia's crown!
What, gone! Then I must kneel here all alone.

(Ee kneels, his bowed head on his hand. They dance off again to delightful music, then exeunt omnes. Reenter Nymph of Dian as Fernando the Page.
Page
What, Mars upon his knees? The God of War
Should not permit his knees to kiss the earth.
To what idolatry is valour bowed?
Perhaps at this propitious hour thy heart
Is playing truant with thy country's cause;
Is worship of some great divinity
More sacred than Charles Stuart's crown?

Mars
Thy words are truth, fair Page.

Page
Where are thine eyes
That, in the burnished glare of solid steel,
Can pierce the vistas of the warriour's helms,
And court the bannered host afar; but still
Are blind to Flora's heavenly charms.

Mars
(Aside)
Thank God!
The generous boy has coupled his desires
With all my hopes. The nymph of Dian's name
Shall not be mentioned lest it free new hopes.
Flora Macdonald—she is neither thine
But not the love of Mars—thine is the heart—
Genius like thine is Flora's soul's delight.
But look, thou art the same angelic-limbed,
Sweet creature like the frightened antelope.
As much as is the Moon upon the sea
The likeness of the same sweet Moon in Heaven!
And now thy sighs responsive to thy smiles
Are all like hers—they are the same to me,
And yet thou art Fernando. Speak again!

Page
Methinks, great Mars, the God of Wine
Has brought thee to thy knees. In love, my lord? (Fondingly.)

Did not the downward flowing of her locks
Grow ashen in the fires of thy breath,
Like the sad droopings of the willow bough,
Swayed by the kisses of the odorous breeze? (Teasingly.)

For like the cedar evergreen, she stood,
Courting my whispers with her amorous looks
And, grasping held my hand, prest it so soft,
A thrill of tenderness ran through my heart,
And told me what her own then felt—(Enough)—(Aside.)

(Flora Macdonald is not loved by Mars)—(Aloud.)

Until my raptured soul drank in her words,
Which made my heart intoxicate with sweets,
And sounds of harmony. Ay, lived upon
Her sighs, as on an atmosphere of song,
Which seemed to feed me with immortal youth!

Mars
By Heavens, thy words are echoes of her own!
Thy smiles—thy very eyes like hers—all—all—
Hast thou no sister?

Page
None in all this world.

Mars
Ah, thou incarnate spirit! thou art so
Engrafted in my soul that all the world
Seems hallowed by thy beams. Come we must go.

(Exeunt.)