The state accords her worthiest servants; nay So that thou art sincere and penitent. Bert. I have thought again: it must not be-I love theeThou knowest it-that I stand here is the proof, Not least, though last; but having done my duty By thee, I now must do it by my country! BYRON. LOCHIEL AND WIZARD.-LOCHIEL'S WARNING. Wiz. Lochiel, Lochiel! beware of the day Or, Loch. Go, preach to the coward, thou death-telling seer! if Culloden so dreadful appear, gory Draw, dotard, around thy old wavering sight, This mantle, to cover the phantoms of fright. Wiz. Ha! laugh'st thou, Lochiel, my vision to scorn? Proud bird of the mountain, thy plume shall be torn ! Say, rush'd the bold eagle exultingly forth, From his home, in the dark rolling clouds of the north? Lo! the death-shot of foeman outspeeding, he rode Companionless, bearing destruction abroad; But down let him stoop from his havoc on high! Whose banners arise on the battlements' height, For the blackness of ashes shall mark where it stood, Their swords are a thousand, their bosoms are one! Wiz. Lochiel, Lochiel! beware of the day : sight; 'Tis finish'd. Their thunders are hush'd on the moors: Culloden is lost, and my country deplores. But where is the iron-bound prisoner? Where? Like a limb from his country cast bleeding and torn? Ah, no! for a darker departure is near; The war-drum is muffled, and black is the bier; Loch. Down, soothless insulter! I trust not the tale: For never shall Albin a destiny meet, So black with dishonour, so foul with retreat. Tho' my perishing ranks should be strew'd in their gore, Like ocean-weeds heap'd on the surf-beaten shore, Lochiel, untainted by flight or by chains, While the kindling of life in his bosom remains, Shall victor exult, or in death be laid low, With his back to the field, and his face to the foe! Look proudly to Heaven from the death-bed of fame. CAMPBELL. MANFRED. Enter CHAMOIS HUNTER and MANFRED. C. Hunter. No, no-yet pause-thou must not yet go forth : Thy mind and body are alike unfit To trust each other, for some hours, at least ; Man. It imports not: I do know My route full well, and need no further guidance. One of the many chiefs, whose castled crags To bask by the huge hearths of those old halls, Carousing with the vassals; but the paths, Which step from out our mountains to their doors, C. Hunter. Well, sir, pardon me the question, And be of better cheer. Come, taste my wine; "Tis of an ancient vintage: many a day "T has thaw'd my veins among our glaciers, now C. Hunter. What dost thou mean? thy senses wander from thee. Man. I say, 'tis blood-my blood! the pure warm stream Which ran in the veins of my fathers, and in ours When we were in our youth, and had one heart, And loved each other as we should not love, And this was shed; but still it rises up Colouring the clouds, that shut me out from heaven, C. Hunter. Man of strange words, and some half maddening sin, Which makes thee people vacancy, whate'er Thy dread and sufferance be, there's comfort yet- Man. Patience and patience! Hence-that word was made For brutes of burthen, not for birds of prey; : C. Hunter. Thanks to heaven! I would not be of thine for the free fame Of William Tell; but whatsoe'er thine ill, It must be borne, and these wild starts are useless. With the fierce thirst of death-and still unslaked! C. Hunter. Why, on thy brow the seal of middle age Hath scarce been set; I am thine elder far. Man. Think'st thou existence doth depend on time ? Barren and cold, on which the wild waves break, C. Hunter. Alas! he's mad-but yet I must not leave him. Man. I would I were-for then the things I see Would be but a distempered dream. C. Hunter. What is it That thou dost see, or think thou look'st upon ? And spirit-patient, pious, proud, and free ; It matters not-my soul was scorched already! C. Hunter. And would'st thou then exchange thy lot for mine? Man. No, friend! I would not wrong thee, nor exchange My lot with living being: I can bear However wretchedly, 'tis still to bear In life what others could not brook to dream, But perish in their slumber. C. Hunter. And with this This cautious feeling for another's pain, Canst thou be black with evil? Say not so. Can one of gentle thoughts have wreaked revenge Man. Oh! no, no, no! My injuries came down on those who loved me |