University of Virginia Library

ACT. V.

SCENE I.

King, Queen, Dunbar.
Queen.
O! this was more than the ill-sorted Train
Of undetermin'd Fancy!—This convey'd
No loose imperfect Images: But all
Was dreadfully distinct! as if the Hand
Of Fate had wrought it.—Profit by those Signs—
Your guardian Angel dictates.—O my Prince!
Let not your blind Security disgrace
The Merit of your Prudence.

King.
No, my Queen,
Let us avoid the opposite Extremes
Of Negligence supine, and prostrate Fear.—
Already hath our Vigilance perform'd
What Caution justifies: And for thy Dream;
As such consider it.—The vain Effect
Of an Imagination long disturb'd.—
Life with substantial Ills, enough is curs'd:
Why should we then, with frantic Zeal, pursue
Unreal Care; and with th'illusive Form
Which our own teeming Brain produc'd, affright
Our Reason from her Throne?

Queen.
In all your Course
Of youthful Glory, when the guiding Hand
Of warlike Henry led you to the Field;
When my Soul suffer'd the successive Pangs
Of fond Impatience and repressive Fear:
When ev'ry reeking Messenger from France,
Wreath'd a new Garland for Albania's Prince,
And shook my Bosom with the dreadful Tale
That spoke your Praise; say, did my weak Despair
Recal you from the Race?—Did not my Heart
Espouse your Fame, and patiently await
The End of your Career?—O! by the Joys
I felt at your Return, when smiling Love
Secure, with Rapture reign'd.—O! by these Tears,
Which seldom plead; indulge my boding Soul!
Arrouse your conqu'ring Troops; let Angus guard
The Convent with a chosen Band.—The Soul
Of Treason is abroad!—

King.
Ye ruling Powers!
Let me not wield the Sceptre of this Realm,
When my degen'rate Breast becomes the Haunt
Of haggard Fear.—O! what a Wretch is he,
Whose fev'rous Life devoted to the gloom
Of Superstition, feels th'incessant Throb
Of ghastly Pannic!—In whose startled Ear
The Knell still deepens, and the Raven croaks!

Queen.
Vain be my Terrors—my Presages vain—
Yet with my fond Anxiety comply,
And my Repose restore!—Not for myself—
Not to prolong the Season of my Life,
Am I thus suppliant.—Ah no! for you—
For you whose Being gladdens and protects
A grateful People.—You, whose parent Boughs
Defends your tender Offspring from the Blasts
That soon would tear them up!—For you, the Source
Of all our Happiness and Peace, I fear!

[Kneels.
King.
Arise, my Queen—O! thou art all compos'd
Of melting Piety and tender Love!
Thou shalt be satisfy'd.—Is ev'ry Guard
By Angus visited?—

Dunbar.
Ev'n now, my Liege,
With Ramsay and his Troop, he scours the Plain.

King.
Still watchful o'er his Charge.—The lib'ral Hand
Of Bounty will have nothing to bestow,
'Ere Angus cease to merit!—Say, Dunbar,
Who rules the nightly Watch?

Dunbar.
To Cattan's Care
The City Guard is subject.

King.
I have mark'd.
Much Valour in him.—Hie thee to him, Youth,
And bid him with a chosen few, surround
The Cloisters of the Convent; and remain
'Till Morn full streaming shall relieve his Watch.
[Exit Dunbar.
Thus shall Repose, with glad Assurance, waft
Its balmy Blessing to thy troubled Breast.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.

Grime, Cattan.
Grime.
Thus far, brave Cattan, Fortune seems inclin'd
To recompense us for the Day's Disgrace.—
Our Band conceal'd within the Cloisters, wait
With Eagerness and Joy the auspicious Hour,
To perpetrate the Deed.—It now remains,
To regulate our Conduct, and to each
His Share of this great Enterprize assign.—
If Angus lives, in vain our Arms devote
The Usurper and his Progeny to Death:
His Power and Principles will still supply
Fresh Obstacles, which all our future Efforts
Can ne'er surmount.

Cattan.
Then let our Swords prevent
All further Opposition, and at once
Dismiss him to the Shades.

Grime.
Thine be the Task—
I know with what just Indignation burns
Thy gen'rous Hate, against the partial Thane,
Who, to thine Age and Services, preferr'd
A raw unpractis'd Stripling.

Cattan.
Ha!—no more.
The bare Remembrance tortures me!—O Grime!
How will my Soul his mortal Groans enjoy!

Grime.
While we within perform th'intrepid Blow,
To his Apartment thou shalt move alone;
Nor will Pretence be wanting: Say, thou bring'st
Intelligence important, that demands
His instant Ear:—Then shalt thou find thy Foe
Unarm'd and unattended.—Need my Tongue
Instruct thee further?

Cattan.
No,—let my Revenge
Suggest what follows—By the Pow'rs of Hell!
I will be drunk with Vengeance!

Grime.
To thy Guard
Meanwhile repair, and watch 'till he returns
With Ramsay from the Plain.—But see! they come,
We must avoid them, and retire unseen.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III.

An Apartment.
Angus, Ramsay.
Angus.
By Heav'n, it much alarms me!—Wide o'er all
The dusky Plain, by the Fires half extinct,
Are seen the soldiers, roll'd in Heaps confus'd,
The Slaves of brutal Appetite.—Save those
Beneath thy Discipline, scarce one remains
From the Contagion free.

Ramsay.
When we return'd
Fatigu'd from Battle, Numbers brought, unask'd,
Refreshments for the wounded from the Town:
Thence, the Temptation spread from Rank to Rank,
And few resisted.

Angus.
But that I consult
My King's Tranquillity, and would not wake
Th'affrighted Citizens with an Alarm,
An hundred Trumpets should this instant, raise
Their brazen Throats together, and arrouse
Th'extended Sluggards.—Go, my valiant Friend,
And with thy uninfected Troop attend
To ev'ry Motion of th'incertain Night.

[Exit Ramsay.

SCENE IV.

Angus.
Now, the loud Tempest of the toilful Day
Subsides into a Calm.—And yet my Soul
Still labours thro' the Storm!—By Day or Night,
In florid Youth, or mellow Age, scarce fleets
One Hour without its Care!—Not Sleep itself
Is ever balmy; for the shadowy Dream
Oft bears substantial Woe!

SCENE V.

Angus, Cattan.
Cattan.
My noble Lord,
Within the Portal as I kept my Watch,
Swift gliding Shadows by the glimm'ring Moon,
I could perceive in Forms of armed Men,
Possess the Space that borders on the Porch—
I question'd thrice; they yielded no Reply:
And now the Soldiers, rang'd in close Array,
Wait your Command.

Angus.
Quick, lead me to the Place—
Foul Treason is at work!—

Cattan.
It were not good
To venture forth unarm'd.—Couragious Thane,
Receive this Dagger.—

[Attempts to stab Angus, who wrests the Dagger from him, and kills him.
Angus.
Ha, perfidious Slave!
What means this base Attempt?—Thou shalt not 'scape.

Cattan.
Curse on my feeble Arm that fail'd to strike
The Poignard to thy Heart!—How like a Dog
I tamely fall despis'd!

Angus.
Fell Ruffian! say,
Who set thee on?—This Treachery, I fear,
Is but the prelude to some dreadful Scene!—

Cattan.
Just are thy Terrors.—By the infernal Gulph
That opens to receive me! I would plunge
Into the Abyss with Joy, could the Success
Of Athol feast my Sense!
[A Noise of clashing Swords and Shreiks.
—Hah!—now the Sword
Of Slaughter smoaks!—Th'exulting Thane surveys
Th'imperial Scene; while grimly smiling Grime
With purple Honours deck'd.—

Angus.
Tremend'ous Powers!

Cattan.
O'er the faln Tyrant strides—

[Dies.
Angus.
Heav'n sheild us all!
Amazing Horror chills me!—Ha, Dunbar!
Then Treason triumphs!—O my Son! my Son!

SCENE VI.

Angus, Dunbar wounded.
Dunbar.
I sought thee, noble Thane, while yet my Limbs
Obey their Lord.—I sought thee, to unfold
My zealous Soul, 'ere yet she takes her Flight.—
Stretch'd on the Ground, these Eyes beheld the King
Transfix'd a lifeless Coarse! And saw this Arm
Too late to save—too feeble to avenge him!—

Angus.
Weep Caledonia, weep!—thy Peace is slain—
Thy Father and thy King!—O! this Event,
Like a vast Mountain, loads my staggring Soul,
And crushes all her Pow'rs!—But say, my Friend,
If yet thy Strength permits, how this befel.

Dunbar.
A Band of Rebels, glean'd from the Defeat,
By Athol, lurk'd behind the adjacent Hills:
These, faithless Cattan, favour'd by the Night,
Admitted to the City, join'd their Power
With his corrupted Guard, and hither led them
Unmark'd, where soon they enter'd unoppos'd.—
Alarm'd, I strove—but strove, alas! in vain.
To the sad Scene 'ere I could force my Way,
Our Monarch was no more! Around him lay
An Heap of Traitors, whom his single Arm
Had slain before he fell.—Th'unhappy Queen,
Who, to defend her Consort's, had oppos'd
Her own defenceless Frame, expiring, pour'd
Her mingling Blood in copious Stream with his!

Angus.
Illustrious Victims!—O disast'rous Fate!
Unfeeling Monsters! Execrable Fiends!
To wanton thus in royal Blood!

Dunbar.
O Thane!
How shall I speak the Sequel of my Tale!
How will thy fond parental Heart be rent
With mortal Anguish, when my Tongue relates
The Fate of Eleonora!

Angus.
Ha!—my Fears
Anticipate thy Words!—O say, Dunbar,
How fares my Child!

Dunbar.
The Shades of endless Night
Now settle o'er her Eyes!—heroic Maid!
She to th'assaulted Threshold bravely ran,
And with her snowy Arm, supply'd a Bolt
To bar their Entrance:—But the barb'rous Crew
Broke in impet'ous, crush'd her slender Limb,
When Grime, his Dagger brandishing, exclaim'd,
Behold the Sorc'ress whose accursed Charms
Betray'd the Youth; and whose invet'rate Sire
This Day revers'd our Fortune in the Field!—
This for Revenge!—then plung'd it in her Breast!—

Angus.
Infernal Homicide!

Dunbar.
There—there I own
He vanquish'd me indeed!—What tho' I rush'd
Thro' many a Wound, and in th'Assassin's Heart
Imbrew'd my faithful Steel.—But see, where comes
By her Attendants led, the bleeding Fair!

SCENE VII.

Angus, Dunbar, Eleonora wounded and supported.
Eleonora.
Here set me down—vain is your kind Concern.—
Ah! who, with parent Tenderness, will bless
My parting Soul, and close my beamless Eyes!
Ah! who defend me, and with pious Care
To the cold Grave commit my pale Remains!

[Swoons.
Angus.
O Misery!—look up—thy Father calls—

[Embracing her.
Eleonora.
What Angel borrows that paternal Voice!
Ha! lives my Father!—Ye propitious Powers!
He folds me in his Arms—Yes, he survives
The Havock of this Night!—O let me now
Yield up my fervent Soul with raptur'd Praise!
For Angus lives t'avenge his murder'd Prince,
To save his Country, and protract his Blaze
Of Glory, farther still!

Angus.
And is it thus,
The melting Parent clasps his darling Child!
My Heart is torn with agonizing Pangs
Of complicated Woe!

Dunbar.
The Public craves
Immediate Aid from thee—But I wax weak.—
Our Infant King surrounded in the Fort,
Demands thy present Help.—

Angus.
Yes, loyal Youth!
Thy glorious Wounds instruct me, what I owe
To my young Sov'reign, and my Country's Peace!
But how shall I sustain the rav'nous Tribe
Of various Griefs, that gnaw me all at once?
My royal Master falls, my Country groans,
And cruel Fate has ravish'd from my Side
My dearest Daughter and my best lov'd Friend!

Dunbar.
Thy Praise shall be thy Daughter; and thy Friend
Survive unchang'd in ev'ry honest Breast.

Angus.
Must we then part for ever!—What a Plan
Of peaceful Happiness, my Hope had laid
In thee and her!—alas! thou fading Flower,
How fast thy Sweets consume!—come to my Arms,
That I may taste them e're they fleet away!
[Embracing her.
O exquisite Distress!—

Eleonora.
For me, my Father,
For me let not the bootless Tear distil.—
Soon shall I be with those, who rest secure
From all th'Inclemencies of stormy Life.

Angus.
Adieu, my Children!—never shall I hear
Thy chearing Voice again!—a long Farewell!
[Exit Angus.

SCENE VIII.

Dunbar, Eleonora.
Dunbar.
Soon shall our short'ned Race of Life be run.—
Our Day already hastens to its Close;
And Night eternal comes.—Yet, tho' I touch
The Land of Peace, and backward view, well pleas'd,
The tossing Wave from which I shall be free:
No Rest will greet me on the silent Shore,
If Eleonora sends me hence unbless'd.

Eleonora.
Distemper'd Passion (when we parted last)
Usurp'd my troubled Bosom, and Dunbar
With Horror was beheld: But Reason now
With genial Mildness beams upon my Soul,
And represents thee justly, as thou art,
The tend'rest Lover and the gentlest Friend.

Dunbar.
O Transport, to my Breast unknown before!
Not the soft Breeze, upon its fragrant Wings,
Wafts such refreshing Gladness to the Heart
Of panting Pilgrims, as thy balmy Words
To my exhausted Spirits!—but alas!
Thy purple Stream of Life forsakes, apace,
Its precious Channels!—on thy polish'd Cheek
The blowing Roses fade; and o'er thine Eyes
Death sheds a misty Languor!

Eleonora.
Let me lean
Upon thy friendly Arm—Yet, O retire!
That guilty Arm!—Say, did it ne'er rebel
Against my Peace?—But let me not revolve
Those Sorrows now.—Were Heav'n again to raise
That once lov'd Head that lies (alas) so low!
And from the Verge of Death my Life recal;
What Joy could visit my forlorn Estate,
Self-doom'd to hopeless Woe!

Dunbar.
Must I then wander
A pensive Shade, along the dreary Vale,
And groan for ever under thy Reproach!

Eleonora.
Ah no! thou faithful Youth, shall I repay
Thy Love and Virtue with ungrateful Hate?
These Wounds that waste so lavishly thy Life,
Were they not all receiv'd in my Defence?
May no Repose embrace me in the Tomb,
If my Soul mourns not thy untimely Fall
With Sister-Woe!—thy Passion has not reap'd
The sweet Returns its Purity deserv'd.

Dunbar.
A while forbear, pale Minister of Fate,
Forbear a while; and on my ravish'd Ear
Let the last Music of this dying Swan,
Steal in soft Blandishment, divinely sweet!
Then strike th'unerring Blow.—

Eleonora.
That thus, our Hopes
Which blossom'd num'rous as the flow'ry Spring,
Are nipp'd untimely, ere the Sun of Joy
Matur'd them into Fruit; repine not, Youth.—
Life hath its various Seasons, as the Year;
And after clust'ring Autumn—but I faint—
Support me nearer—in rich Harvest's Rear
Bleak Winter must have lagg'd.—Oh! now I feel
The leaden Hand of Death lie heavy on me.—
Thine Image swims before my straining Eye.—
—And now it disappears.—Speak—bid Adieu
To the lost Eleonora.—Not a Word!
—Not one Farewell!—Alas! that dismal Groan
Is eloquent Distress!—Celestial Powers
Protect my Father, show'r upon his—Oh!

[Dies.
Dunbar.
There fled the purest Soul that ever dwelt
In mortal Clay!—I come my Love! I come—
Where now the rosy Tincture of these Lips!
The Smile that Grace ineffable diffus'd!
The Glance that smote the Soul with silent Wonder!
The Voice that sooth'd the Anguish of Disease,
And held Attention Captive!—Let me kiss
This pale deserted Temple of my Joy!
This, Chastity, this, thy unspotted Shade
Will not refuse.—I feel the griesly King—
Thro' all my Veins he shivers like the North—
O Eleonora! as my flowing Blood
Is mix'd with thine.—So may our mingling Souls
To Bliss supernal wing our happy—Oh!

[Dies.

SCENE the Last.

Angus, Ramsay. Athol, &c. Prisoners.
Angus.
Bright Deeds of Glory hath thine Arm atchiev'd,
Couragious Ramsay; and thy Name shall live
For ever in the Annals of Renown.—
—But see, where silent as the Noon of Night
These Lovers lie!—rest—rest ill-fated Pair!
Your dear Remembrance shall for ever dwell
Within the Breast of Angus; and his Love
Oft with paternal Tears bedew your Tomb!

Ramsay.
O fatal Scene of Innocence destroy'd!

Angus
, To Athol.
O bloody Author of this Night's Mishap!
Whose impious Hands are with the sacred Blood
Of Majesty distain'd!—Contemplate here
The Havock of thy Crimes; and then bethink thee,
What Vengeance craves.—

Athol.
With Insolence of Speech
How dares thy Tongue licentious, thus insult
Thy Sov'reign, Angus?—Madly hath thy Zeal
Espous'd a sinking Cause.—But thou may'st still
Deserve my future Favour.—

Angus.
O thou Stain
Of fair Nobility!—thou Bane of Faith!
Thou Woman-killing Coward, who hast crept
To the unguarded Throne, and stabb'd thy Prince!
What hath thy Treason, blasted as it is,
To bribe the Soul of Angus to thy Views?

Athol.
Soon shalt thou rue th'Indignity now thrown
On me thy lawful Prince.—Yes, talking Lord,
The Day will soon appear, when I shall rise
In Majesty and Terror, to assert
My Country's Freedom; and at last, avenge
My own peculiar Wrongs.—When thou, and all
Those grov'ling Sycophants, who bow'd the Knee
To the Usurper's arbitrary Sway,
Will fawn on me.—Ye temporizing Slaves!
Unchain your King; and teach your humble Mouths
To kiss the Dust beneath my royal Feet.—

[To the Guard.
Angus.
The Day will soon appear!—Day shall not thrice
Return, before thy Carcase be cast forth
Unbury'd, to the Dogs and Beasts of Prey.—
Or, high-exalted, putrify in Air
The Monument of Treason.—

Athol.
Empty Threat!
Fate hath foretold that Athol shall be crown'd.

Angus.
Then Hell hath cheated thee.—Thou shalt be crown'd—
An Iron Crown, intensely hot, shall gird
Thy hoary Temples; while the shouting Crowd
Acclaims thee King of Traitors.

Athol.
Lakes of Fire!—
Ha! said'st thou Lord!—a glowing Iron Crown
Shall gird my hoary Temples!—Now I feel
Myself awake to Misery and Shame!
Ye Sceptres, Diadems and rolling Trains
Of flatt'ring Pomp, farewell!—Curse on those Dreams
Of idle Superstition, that ensnare
Th'ambitious Soul to Wickedness and Woe!
Curse on thy Virtue, which hath overthrown
My elevated Hopes! and may Despair
Descend in Pestilence on all Mankind!

Angus.
Thy Curse just Heav'n retorts upon thyself!
To sep'rate Dungeons lead the Regicides.—
[Exit Guard with the Prisoners.
From Thirst of Rule what dire Disasters flow!
How flames that Guilt Ambition taught to glow!
Wish gains on Wish, Desire surmounts Desire;
Hope fanns the Blaze, and Envy feeds the Fire:
From Crime to Crime aspires the madd'ning Soul;
Nor Laws, nor Oaths, nor Fears its Rage controul;
'Till Heav'n at length awakes, supremely just,
And levels all its tow'ring Schemes in Dust!