That slaying thee were but a double guilt LIN. He quails, and shuns to look upon my weapon, Yet boasts himself a Berkeley! BER. Lindesay, and if there were no deeper cause For shunning thee than terror of thy weapon, That rock-hewn Cross as soon should start and stir, Because a shepherd-boy blew horn beneath it, As I for brag of thine. NIN. I charge you both, and in the name of Heaven, Breathe no defiance on this sacred spot, Where Christiar men must bear them peacefully, On pain of the Church thunders. Calmly tell Your cause of difference; and, Lord Lindesay, thou Be first to speak them. LIN. Ask the blue welkin-ask the silver Tay, The northern Grampians - all things know my wrongs; But ask not me to tell them, while the villain, Who wrought them, stands and listens with a smile. NIN. It is said Since you refer us thus to general fame- IIN. Ay, in his halls In his own halls, good father, that's the word. A destined victim, train'd on to the doom His frantic jealousy prepared for me. LIN. Wretch thou didst first dishonor to thy victim, And then didst slay him! BER. There is a busy fiend tugs at my heart, Forgive me that I caused your brother's death; LIN. Take worse and blacker.-Murderer, adult erer !Ait thou not moved yet? BER. Do not press me further The hunted stag, even when he seeks the thicket, Compell'd to stand at bay, grows dangerous! Most true thy brother perish'd by my hand, And if you term it murder--I must bear it. Thus far my patience can; but if thou brand The purity of yonder martyr'd saint, Whom then my sword but poorly did avenge, With one injurious word, come to the valley, And I will show thee how it shall be answer'd! NIN. This heat, Lord Berkeley, doth but ill ac cord With thy late pious patience. BER. Father, forgive, and let me stand excused To Heaven and thee, if patience brooks no more. I loved this lady fondly-truly lovedLoved her, and was beloved, ere yet her father Conferr'd her on another. While she lived, Each thought of her was to my soul as hallow'd As those I send to Heaven; and on her grave, Her bloody, early grave, while this poor hand Can hold a sword, shall no one cast a scorn. LIN. Follow me. Thou shalt hear me call the adulteress By her right name.-I'm glad there's yet a spur Can rouse thy sluggard mettle. BER. Make then obeisance to the blessed Cross, For it shall be on earth thy last devotion. [They are going off WAL. (rushing forward.) Madmen, stand !——Stay but one second-answer but one question.— There, Maurice Berkeley, canst thou look upon That blessed sign, and swear thou'st spoken truth! BER. I swear by Heaven, And by the memory of that murder'd innocent, Each seeming charge against her was as false As our bless'd Lady's spotless. Hear, each saint ! Hear me, thou holy rood! hear me from heaven, Thou martyr'd excellence!-Hear me from penal fire (For sure not yet thy guilt is expiated)! Stern ghost of her destroyer! WAL. (throws back his cowl.) He hears! he hears! Thy spell hath raised the dead. LIN. My brother! and alive! WAL. Alive, but yet, my Richard, dead ta thee, No tie of kindred binds me to the world; The Doom of Devorgoil. PREFACE THE first of these dramatic pieces' was long smce written, for the purpose of obliging the late Mr. Terry, then Manager of the Adelphi Theatre, for whom the Author had a particular regard. The manner in which the mimic goblins of Devorgoil are intermixed with the supernatural machinery, was found to be objectionable, and the production had other faults, which rendered it unfit for representation.2 I have called the piece a Melodrama, for want of a better name; but, as I learn from the unquestionable authority of Mr. Colman's Random Records, that one species of the drama is termed an extravaganza, I am sorry I was not sooner aware of a more appropriate name than that which I had selected for Devorgoil. The Author's Publishers thought it desirable, that the scenes, long condemned to oblivion, should be united to similar attempts of the same kind nd as he felt indifferent on the subject, they are printed in the same volume with Halidon Hill and MacDuff's Cross, and thrown off in a separate form, for the convenience of those who possess former editions of the Author's Poetical Works. The general story of the Doom of Devorgoil is founded on an old Scottish tradition, the scene of which lies in Galloway. The crime supposed to have occasioned the misfortunes of this devoted house, is similar to that of a Lord Herries of Hoddam Castle, who is the principal personage of Mr. Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe's interesting ballad, in the Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, vol. iv. p. 307. In remorse for his crime, he built the singular monument called the Tower of Repentance. In many cases the Scottish superstitions allude to the fairies, or those who, for 1 "The Doom of Devorgoil," and "Auchindrane," were published together in an octavo volume, in the spring of 1830. For the origin and progress of the first, see Life of Scott, vol. pp. 197-904, 285-6. sins of a milder description, are permitted to wander with the "rout that never rest," as they were termed by Dr. Leyden. They imitate human labor and human amusements, but their toil is useless, and without any advantageous result; and their gayety is unsubstantial and hollow. The phantom of Lord Erick is supposed to be a spectre of this character. The story of the Ghostly Barber is told in many countries; but the best narrative founded on the passage, is the tale called Stumme Liebe, among the legends of Musæus. I think it has been introduced upon the English stage in some pantomime, which was one objection to bringing it upon the scene a second time. Mr Daniel Terry, the comedian, distinguished for a very 1829. To tempt their rovers back-the lady's bower, FLO. How call you, then, this castle of my sire, KAT. Dungeons for men, and palaces for owls; FLORA enters from the Castle, looks timidly around, Starved in the pantry; and the reverend spider, then comes forward and speaks. He is not here-those pleasures are not ours SONG.1 The sun upon the lake is low, The wild birds hush their song, Now all whom varied toil and care From home and love divide, In the calm sunset may repair The noble dame on turret high, Who waits her gallant knight, The village maid, with hand on brow, For Colin's darkening plaid. Now to their mates the wild swans row, All meet whom day and care divide, [KATLEEN has come out of the Castle Sole living tenant of the Baron's halls, Who, train'd to abstinence, lived a whole summer To dress our last of suppers, and, poor soul, Is starved with cold, and mewling mad with hunger cousin? From you my sire can ask no filial duty. KAT. No, thanks to Heaven! No noble in wide Scotland, rich or poor, FLO. My mother, too, would gladly see you places KAT. Ah! my good aunt! She presses on her daughter's love the suit In manners, birth, or mind, to recommend him,— FLO. Do not name him, Katleen! KAT. Ay, but I must, and with some gratitude. KAT. Ah, my dear coz!-if that your mother's I said but now, I saw our last of fagots niece May so presume to call your father's daughter All these fond things have got some home of comfort Destined to dress our last of meals, but said not 1 The author thought of omitting this song, which was, in fact, abridged into one in "Quentin Durward," termed County Guy. [See ante, page 709.] It seemed, however, neces sary to the sense, that the original stanzas should be retained here. 2 MS.-"Beyond the circle of our wretchedness.” FLO. Were fami-hing the word, My cottage wisdom cught to echo back,— But, to speak honestly, the peasant Katleen, FLO. Mock me not with a title, gentle cousin, Which poverty has made ridiculous.— [Trumpets far off. Hark! they have broken up the weapon-shawing; The vassals are dismiss'd, and marching homeward. KAT. Comes your sire back to-night? FLO. To tarry for the banquet. This day only, Summon'd as a king's tenant, he resumes The right of rank his birth assigns to him, And mingles with the proudest. КАТ. He did purpose To return To yonder height, and see the marksmen practise: FLO. Which some chance breeze may haply blow aside And in good time here comes his sturdy comrade, That all within these tottering walls may know That here lies venison, whoso likes to lift it. [About to blow. KAT. (to FLO.) He will alarm your mother; and, besides, Our Forest proverb teaches, that no question Should ask where venison comes from. Your careful mother, with her wonted prudence, Will hold its presence plead its own apology.Come, Blackthorn, I will show you where to stow it. [Exeunt KATLEEN and BLACKTHORN into the Castle more shooting-then a distant shout-Stragglers, armed in different ways, pass over the Stage, as if from the Weaponshaw. FLO. The prize is won; that general shout proclaim'd it. The marksmen and the vassals are dispersing. [She draws back. FIRST VASSAL (a pearant.) Ay, ay,-'tis lost and won,--the Forest have it. "Tis they have all the luck on't. SECOND VAS. (a shepherd.) Luck, sayst thou, man? 'Tis practice, skill, and cunning. THIRD VAS. "Tis no such thing.—I had hit the mark precisely, But for this cursed flint; and, as I fired, A swallow cross'd mine eye too-Will you tell me Because my powder happen'd to be damp, |