Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland Volume XXIV Part 24

_Friar_.---'Tis now thick midnight. All round me sleep, And not a star looks from the curtained heaven.

The very sentinels cease to pace their round, And stand in calm security. I'll brave them.

What though the bridge be guarded, and the river Rush like a tiger?--love has no such fears, And Heaven is stronger than its waters!

_[A bell tolls slowly_.

Ha! that slow-tongued bell, that speaks of death, Falls on my ears as would a solid substance, Pressing my heart down! Oh cruel speed!

Already they prepare their execution!

But they shall live, or I with them shall die!

THOU, who beholdest me, and lookest through The darkness of Thy heavens upon Thy suppliant, Let not a tyrant stain Thy earth with blood-- The blood of innocence! Thou, who art mercy, Spare a father's tears! Thou, who art love, Look on a mother's anguis.h.!.+ Thou, who art justice, Save! oh, save their children! Thou, who art power, Strengthen my hands to-night. _[Rises._ Now, may an angel's hand direct my skiff Straight to their camp, till with one blow I strike Their freedom and my country's!

_[He leaps into the boat and pushes off_.

SCENE IX.--_The English camp. A fire in the distance.

Enter_ HENRY _and_ RICHARD, _fettered and guarded_.

_Henry_.--Would it were morning, and the hour were come.

For still my heart misgives me, lest our parents Do, in fond weakness, save us by dishonour!

_Richard_.--Rather than purchase life at such a price, And have my father sell his faith for me, And sell his country, I would rather thou, My brother in my birth and in my death, Should be my executioner! We know them better!

_Henry_.--Now I seem old and weary of this life, So joy I in our death for Scotland's sake; For this death will so wed us to our country, We shall be old in years to all posterity!

And it will place a blot on Edward's name, That time may blacken, but can ne'er efface.

_Richard_.--My heart, too, beats as light as if tomorrow Had been, by young love, destined for my bridal; Yet oft a tear comes stealing down my cheek, When I do think me of our _mother_, Henry!

_Henry_.--Oh speak not of our parents! or my heart Will burst ere morning, and from the tyrant rob His well-earned infamy.

_Richard_.--Oh! I must speak of them: They now will wander weeping in their chamber, Or from their window through the darkness gaze, And stretch their hands and sigh towards the camp; Then, when the red east breaks the night away-- Ah! what a sight will meet their eyes, my brother!

_Henry_.--My brother! oh my brother!

_Enter_ FRIAR.

_Guard_.--Who would pa.s.s here?

_Friar_.--A friend! a friend!--a messenger of mercy!

_Guard_.--Nay, wert thou mercy's self, you cannot pa.s.s.

_Friar_.--Refuse ye, then, your prisoners their confessor?

_Guard_.--Approach not, or ye die!

_Friar_.--Would ye stretch forth your hand 'gainst Heaven's anointed?

_Guard_.--Ay! 'gainst the Pope himself, if he should thwart me.

_Friar_.--Mercy ye have not, neither shall ye find it.

_[Springs forward and stabs him_--_approaches_ RICHARD _and_ HENRY, _and unbinds their fetters_.

_Friar_.--In chains as criminals! Ye are free, but speak not.

_Richard_.--Here, holy father, let me kneel to thank thee.

_Henry_.--And let me hear but my deliverer's name, That my first prayer may waft it to the skies.

_Friar_.--Kneel not, nor thank me here. There's need of neither; But be ye silent, for the ground has ears; Nor let it hear your footsteps.

_[He approaches the fire; kindles a torch and fires the camp_.

_Henry_.--Behold, my brother, he has fired the camp!

Already see the flames ascend around him.

_Friar_.--Now! now, my country! here thou art avenged!

Fly with me to the beach! pursuit is vain!

Thou, Heaven, hast heard me! thou art merciful! _[Exit_.

SCENE X.--_Apartment in_ SETON'S _House_.

_Sir Alex_.--Oh, what is honour to a father's heart?

Can it extinguish nature--soothe its feelings-- Or make the small still voice of conscience dumb?

My sons! my sons! Though ye should hold me guiltless, there's a tongue Within me whispers, _I'm your murderer!_ Ah! my Matilda! hadst thou been less n.o.ble, We both had been less wretched! But do I, To hide my sin, place't on the mother's heart?

Though she did hide the _mother_ from _men's_ eyes, Now, crushed by woes, she cannot look on _mine_.

But, locked in secret, weeps her soul away, That it may meet her children's! I alone, Widowed and childless, like a blasted oak Reft of its root and branches, must be left For every storm to howl at!

[ELLIOT _enters with a dagger_.

Ah, my sons!

Could anguish rend my heartstrings, I should not Behold another sun rise on my misery!

_Elliot [springing upon him]_.--By Heavens, mine enemy, I swear thou shalt not!

_They struggle. Shouting without. Enter_ FRIAR _and_ SETON'S SONS, PROVOST RAMSAY. FRIAR _springs forward_.

_Friar_.--Down! traitor, down! [_Stabs_ ELLIOT.

_Sir Alex_.--My sons! my sons!

Angels of mercy, do you mock my sight!

My boys! my boys!

_Provost Ramsay_.--Save us a'! save us a'!--callants, come to my arms too! Here's an hour o' joy! This, in my solemn opinion, is what I ca' livin' a lifetime in the twinklin' o' an ee. And what think ye, Sir Alexander! The English camp is a' in a bleeze, and there they are fleeing awa helter-skelter, leaving everything behind them.