University of Virginia Library

SCENE VIII.

Inside of the Shepherd's Cot.
Enter Elenor, Shepherd's Wife, &c.
Elen.
Have they not staid a weary, weary time?
How far is it to Crawford?

Shep. Wife.
A good way, lady: More than half way gone
They cannot be to Crawford.

Elen.
Where lies the pass they talk'd of, where they said
The hunters needs must come.

Shep. Wife.
A short way hence, deep in the glen of Campdale;
'Tis scarce a mile.

Enter Old Shepherd, who whispers his Wife apart.
Elen.
Do you not see, nor hear them coming, sir?

Old Shep.
They've not had time; they will be here anon.
Be comforted, dear lady.

Elen.
The weight that hangs upon my heart tonight
Is all unbrookable: Would it were broke!
The dead have peace and rest! Have they not, shepherd?

Old Shep.
Yes, they have rest; peace to their souls, sweet lady.

Elen.
Their home is very still. Of all beyond
'Tis dangerous to conjecture: Mind is lost
On shoreless tides, or wanders darkling on
O'er vales immeasurable, till it shrinks
Back to the blaze of time, giddy and blind.
Yet they do sleep so sound, so peaceably,
So calm, so unmolesting, side by side,
No one to wrong them, and no sin to lure,
That I have often thought they were most happy
Whom the Eternal Wisdom chose to call,
In early life, from this most wicked world.
O yes, the dead are happy: I'll believe't
With my whole heart. Yes, yes, the dead are happy!

Old Shep.
I joy to find thee in this holy frame,
Thy mind resign'd, and poised o'er worlds to come;
For thou hast much to bear. My son's return'd;
But so o'ercome with grief, he'll not approach.—
Thy father—is not with him.

(Pause.—Elen starts and fixes her eyes.)
Elen.
O God!—My father!

Old Shep.
Thou hast no father, lady; he is slain
In most foul wise, by that injurious lord.

(Long pause.—Elen shrinks, as if wounded, shudders, and stoops forward; then, after some convulsive moans, faints in their arms.—Scene closes.)