Fleuron from 'Douglas, a Tragedy', a play by John Home published in 1757
ACT II. SCENE I.
A Court, &c.
Enter servants and a stranger at one door, and Lady RandolphandAnnaat another.
Lady Randolph. What means this clamour? stranger, speak secure; Hast thou been wrong'd? have these rude men presum'd To vex the weary traveller on his way?
First Servant. By us no stranger ever suffer'd wrong: This man with outcry wild has call'd us forth; So sore afraid he cannot speak his fears.
Enter LordRandolphand young man, with their swords drawn and bloody.
Lady Randolph. Not vain the stranger's fears! how fares my lord?
Lord Randolph. That it fares well, thanks to this gallant youth, Whose valour sav'd me from a wretched death! As down the winding dale I walk'd alone, At the cross way four armed men attack'd me: Rovers, I judge, from the licentious camp, Who would have quickly laid Lord Randolph low, Had not this brave and generous stranger come, Like my good angel in the hour of fate, And, mocking danger, made my foes his own. They turn'd upon him: but his active arm Struck to the ground, from whence they rose no more, The fiercest two; the others fled amain, And left him master of the bloody field. Speak, Lady Randolph: upon Beauty's tongue Dwell accents pleasing to the brave and bold. Speak, noble dame, and thank him for thy lord.
Lady Randolph. My lord, I cannot speak what now I feel. My heart o'erflows with gratitude to heav'n, And to this noble youth, who all unknown To you and yours, deliberated not, Nor paus'd at peril, but humanely brave Fought on your side, against such fearful odds. Have you yet learn'd of him whom we should thank? Whom call the saviour of Lord Randolph's life?
Lord Randolph. I ask'd that question, and he answer'd not: (to the Stranger)But I must know who my deliverer is.
Stranger. A low born man, of parentage obscure, Who nought can boast but his desire to be A soldier, and to gain a name in arms.
Lord Randolph. Whoe'er thou art, thy spirit is ennobled By the great King of Kings! thou art ordain'd And stampt a hero by the sovereign hand Of nature! blush not, flower of modesty As well as valour, to declare thy birth.
Stranger. My name is Norval: on the Grampian hills My father feeds his flocks; a frugal swain, Whose constant cares were to encrease his store, And keep his only son, myself, at home. For I had heard of battles, and I long'd To follow to the field some warlike lord; And heaven soon granted what my sire denied. This moon which rose last night, round as my shield, Had not yet fill'd her horns, when, by her light, A band of fierce barbarians, from the hills, Rush'd like a torrent down upon the vale, Sweeping our flocks and herds. The shepherds fled For safety, and for succour. I alone, With bended bow, and quiver full of arrows, Hover'd about the enemy, and mark'd The road he took, then hasted to my friends; Whom, with a troop of fifty chosen men, I met advancing. The pursuit I led, Till we o'ertook the spoil-encumber'd foe. We fought and conquer'd. E're a sword was drawn, An arrow from my bow had pierc'd their chief, Who wore that day the arms which now I wear. Returning home in triumph, I disdain'd The shepherd's slothful life; and having heard That our good king had summon'd his bold peers To lead their warriours to the Carron side, I left my father's house, and took with me A chosen servant to conduct my steps:— Yon trembling coward who forsook his master. Journeying with this intent, I past these towers. And, heaven-directed, came this day to do The happy deed that gilds my humble name.
Lord Randolph. He is as wise as brave. Was ever tale With such a gallant modesty rehears'd? My brave deliverer! thou shalt enter now A nobler list, and in a monarch's sight Contend with princes for the prize of fame. I will present thee to our Scottish king, Whose valiant spirit ever valour lov'd. Ha! my Matilda! wherefore starts that tear?
Lady Randolph. I cannot say: for various affections, And strangely mingled, in my bosom swell; Yet each of them may well command a tear. I joy that thou art safe; and admire Him and his fortunes who hath wrought thy safety. Obscure and friendless, he the army sought, Bent upon peril, in the range of death Resolv'd to hunt for fame, and with his sword To gain distinction which his birth denied. In this attempt unknown he might have perish'd, And gain'd, with all his valour, but oblivion. Now grac'd by thee, his virtue serves no more Beneath despair. The soldier now of hope He stands conspicuous; fame and great renown Are brought within the compass of his sword. On this my mind reflected, whilst you spoke, And bless'd the wonder-working Lord of heaven.
Lord Randolph. Pious and grateful ever are thy thoughts! My deeds shall follow where thou point'st the way. Next to myself, and equal to Glenalvon, In honour and command shall Norval be.
Norval. I know not how to thank you. Rude I am, In speech and manners: never till this hour Stood I in such a presence: yet, my lord, There's something in my breast which makes me bold To say, that Norval ne'er will shame thy favour.
Lady Randolph. I will be sworn thou wilt not. Thou shalt be My knight; and ever, as thou didst to-day, With happy valour guard the life of Randolph. Lord Randolph. Well hast thou spoke. Let me forbid reply. [To Norval. We are thy debtors still; thy high desert O'ertops our gratitude. I must proceed, As was at first intended, to the camp. Some of my train I see are speeding hither, Impatient, doubtless, of their lord's delay. Go with me, Norval, and thine eyes shall see The chosen warriors of thy native land, Who languish for the fight, and beat the air With brandish'd swords.
Norval. With brandish'd swoLet us begone, my lord.
Lord Randolph. [To Lady Randolph. About the time that the declining sun Shall his broad orbit o'er yon hills suspend, Expect us to return. This night once more Within these walls I rest; my tent I pitch To-morrow in the field. Prepare the feast. Free is his heart who for his country fights: He in the eve of battle may resign Himself to social pleasure; sweetest then, When danger to a soldier's soul endears The human joy that never may return. [Exeunt Randolph and Norval.
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