Dou. Traitor, no more! this letter shews thy office;
Twice hast thou robb'd me of my dear revenge.
I took thee for thy leader.—Thy base blood
Would stain the noble temper of my sword;
But as the pander to thy master's lust,
Thou justly fall'st by a wrong'd husband's hand.
Har. Thy wife is innocent.
Dou. Take him away.
Har. Percy, revenge my fall![guards bear Harcourt in.
Dou. Now for the letter!
He begs once more to see her.—So 'tis plain
They have already met!—but to the rest——
[Reads.] "In vain you wish me to restore the scarf;
Dear pledge of love, while I have life I'll wear it,
'Tis next my heart; no power shall force it thence;
Whene'er you see it in another's hand,
Conclude me dead."—My curses on them both!
How tamely I peruse my shame! but thus,
Thus let me tear the guilty characters
Which register my infamy; and thus,
Thus would I scatter to the winds of heaven
The vile complotters of my foul dishonour.
[tears the letter in the utmost agitation.
Enter Edric.
Edr. My lord——
Dou. [in the utmost fury, not seeing Edric.] The scarf!
Edr. Lord Douglas.
Dou. [still not hearing him.] Yes, the scarf!
Percy, I thank thee for the glorious thought!
I'll cherish it; 'twill sweeten all my pangs,
And add a higher relish to revenge!
Edr. My lord!
Dou. How! Edric here?
Edr. What new distress?
Dou. Dost thou expect I should recount my shame,
Dwell on each circumstance of my disgrace,
And swell my infamy into a tale?
Rage will not let me—But—my wife is false.
Edr. Art thou convinc'd?
Dou. The chronicles of hell
Cannot produce a falser.—But what news
Of her cursed paramour?
Edr. He has escap'd.
Dou. Hast thou examin'd every avenue?
Each spot? the grove? the bower, her favourite haunt?
Edr. I've search'd them all.
Dou. He shall be yet pursued.
Set guards at every gate.—Let none depart
Or gain admittance here, without my knowledge.
Edr. What can their purpose be?
Dou. Is it not clear?
Harcourt has raised his arm against my life;
He fail'd; the blow is now reserv'd for Percy;
Then, with his sword fresh reeking from my heart,
He'll revel with that wanton o'er my tomb;
Nor will he bring her aught she'll hold so dear,
As the curs'd hand with which he slew her husband.
But he shall die! I'll drown my rage in blood,
Which I will offer as a rich libation
On thy infernal altar, black revenge![exeunt.

SCENE II. THE GARDEN.

Enter Elwina.

Elw. Each avenue is so beset with guards,
And lynx-ey'd Jealousy so broad awake,
He cannot pass unseen. Protect him, heaven!
Enter Birtha.
My Birtha, is he safe? has he escap'd?
Bir. I know not. I dispatch'd young Harcourt to him,
To bid him quit the castle, as you order'd,
Restore the scarf, and never see you more.
But how the hard injunction was receiv'd,
Or what has happen'd since, I'm yet to learn.
Elw. O when shall I be eas'd of all my cares,
And in the quiet bosom of the grave
Lay down this weary head!—I'm sick at heart!
Should Douglas intercept his flight!
Bir. Be calm;
Douglas this very moment left the castle,
With seeming peace.
Elw. Ah, then, indeed there's danger!
Birtha, whene'er Suspicion feigns to sleep,
'Tis but to make its careless prey secure.
Bir. Should Percy once again entreat to see thee,
'Twere best admit him; from thy lips alone
He will submit to hear his final doom
Of everlasting exile.
Elw. Birtha, no;
If honour would allow the wife of Douglas
To meet his rival, yet I durst not do it.
Percy! too much this rebel heart is thine:
Too deeply should I feel each pang I gave;
I cannot hate—but I will banish—thee.
Inexorable duly, O forgive,
If I can do no more!
Bir. If he remains,
As I suspect, within the castle walls,
'Twere best I sought him out.
Elw. Then tell him, Birtha,
But, Oh! with gentleness, with mercy, tell him,
That we must never, never, meet again.
The purport of my tale must be severe,
But let thy tenderness embalm the wound
My virtue gives. O soften his despair;
But say—we meet no more.
Enter Percy.
Rash man, he's here!
[she attempts to go, he seizes her hand.
Per. I will be heard; nay, fly not; I will speak;
Lost as I am, I will not be denied
The mournful consolation to complain.
Elw. Percy, I charge thee, leave me.
Per. Tyrant, no:
I blush at my obedience, blush to think
I left thee here alone, to brave the danger
I now return to share.
Elw. That danger's past:
Douglas was soon appeas'd; he nothing knows.
Then leave me, I conjure thee, nor again
Endanger my repose. Yet, ere thou goest,
Restore the scarf.
Per. Unkind Elwina, never!
'Tis all that's left me of my buried joys,
All which reminds me that I once was happy.
My letter told thee I would ne'er restore it.
Elw. Letter! what letter?
Per. That I sent by Harcourt.
Elw. Which I have ne'er receiv'd. Douglas perhaps—
Who knows?
Bir. Harcourt, t' elude his watchfulness,
Might prudently retire.
Elw. Grant heaven it prove so!
[Elwina going, Percy holds her.
Per. Hear me, Elwina; the most savage honour
Forbids not that poor grace.
Elw. It bids me fly thee.
Per. Then, ere thou goest, if we indeed must part,
To sooth the horrors of eternal exile,
Say but—thou pity'st me!
Elw. [weeps.] O Percy—pity thee!
Imperious honour;—surely I may pity him.
Yet, wherefore pity? no, I envy thee:
For thou hast still the liberty to weep,
In thee 'twill be no crime: thy tears are guiltless,
For they infringe no duty, stain no honour,
And blot no vow; but mine are criminal,
Are drops of shame which wash the cheek of guilt,
And every tear I shed dishonours Douglas.
Per. I swear my jealous love e'en grudges thee
Thy sad pre-eminence in wretchedness.
Elw. Rouse, rouse, my slumb'ring virtue! Percy, hear me.
Heaven, when it gives such high-wrought souls as thine,
Still gives as great occasions to exert them.
If thou wast form'd so noble, great, and gen'rous,
'Twas to surmount the passions which enslave
The gross of human-kind.—Then think, O think,
She, whom thou once didst love, is now another's.
Per. Go on—and tell me that that other's Douglas.
Elw. Whate'er his name, he claims respect from me:
His honour's in my keeping, and I hold
The trust so pure, its sanctity is hurt
E'en by thy presence.
Per. Thou again hast conquer'd.
Celestial virtue, like the angel spirit,
Whose flaming sword defended Paradise,
Stands guard on every charm,—Elwina, yes,
To triumph over Douglas, we'll be virtuous.
Elw. 'Tis not enough to be,—we must appear so:
Great souls disdain the shadow of offence,
Nor must their whiteness wear the stain of guilt.
Per. I shall retract—I dare not gaze upon thee;
My feeble virtue staggers, and again
The fiends of jealousy torment and haunt me.
They tear my heart-strings.——Oh!
Elw. No more;
But spare my injur'd honour the affront
To vindicate itself.
Per. But, love!
Elw. But, glory!
Per. Enough! a ray of thy sublimer spirit
Has warm'd my dying honour to a flame!
One effort and 'tis done. The world shall say,
When they shall speak of my disastrous love,
Percy deserv'd Elwina though he lost her.
Fond tears, blind me not yet! a little longer,
Let my sad eyes a little longer gaze,
And leave their last beams here.
Elw. [turns from him.] I do not weep.
Per. Not weep? then why those eyes avoiding mine?
And why that broken voice? those trembling accents?
That sigh which rends my soul?
Elw. No more, no more.
Per. That pang decides it. Come—I'll die at once;
Thou Power supreme! take all the length of days,
And all the blessings kept in store for me,
And add to her account.—Yet turn once more,
One little look, one last, short glimpse of day,
And then a long dark night.—Hold, hold, my heart,
O break not yet, while I behold her sweetness;
For after this dear, mournful, tender moment,
I shall have nothing more to do with life.
Elw. I do conjure thee, go.
Per. 'Tis terrible to nature!
With pangs like these the soul and body part!
And thus, but oh, with far less agony,
The poor departing wretch still grasps at being,
Thus clings to life, thus dreads the dark unknown,
Thus struggles to the last to keep his hold;
And when the dire convulsive groan of death
Dislodges the sad spirit—thus it stays,
And fondly hovers o'er the form it lov'd.
Once and no more—farewell, farewell!
Elw. For ever!
[they look at each other for some time,
then exit Percy. After a pause;
'Tis past—the conflict's past! retire, my Birtha,
I would address me to the throne of grace.
Bir. May Heaven restore that peace thy bosom wants!
[exit Birtha.
Elw. [kneels.] Look down, thou, awful, heart-inspecting Judge,
Look down with mercy on thy erring creature,
And teach my soul the lowliness it needs!
And if some sad remains of human weakness
Should sometimes mingle with my best resolves,
O breathe thy spirit on this wayward heart,
And teach me to repent th' intruding sin
In it's first birth of thought!
[Noise within.] What noise is that?
The clash of swords! should Douglas be return'd!
Enter Douglas and Percy, fighting.
Dou. Yield, villain, yield!
Per. Not till this good right arm
Shall fail its master.
Dou. This to thy heart, then.
Per. Defend thy own.
[they fight; Percy disarms Douglas.
Dou. Confusion, death, and hell!
Edr. [without] This way I heard the noise.
Enter Edric, and many Knights and Guards,
from every part of the stage.
Per. Cursed treachery!
But dearly will I sell my life.
Dou. Seize on him.
Per. I'm taken in the toils.
[Percy is surrounded by Guards, who take his sword.
Dou. In the cursed snare
Thou laid'st for me, traitor, thyself art caught.
Elw. He never sought thy life.
Dou. Adulteress, peace!
The villain Harcourt too—but he's at rest.
Per. Douglas, I'm in thy power; but do not triumph,
Percy's betray'd, not conquer'd. Come, dispatch me.
Elw. [to Douglas] O do not, do not, kill him!
Per. Madam, forbear;
For by the glorious shades of my great fathers,
Their godlike spirit is not so extinct,
That I should owe my life to that vile Scot.
Though dangers close me round on every side,
And death besets me, I am Percy still.
Dou. Sorceress, I'll disappoint thee—he shall die,
Thy minion shall expire before thy face,
That I may feast my hatred with your pangs,
And make his dying groans, and thy fond tears,
A banquet for my vengeance.
Elw. Savage tyrant!
I would have fallen a silent sacrifice,
So thou had'st spar'd my fame.—I never wrong'd thee.
Per. She knew not of my coming;—I alone
Have been to blame—Spite of her interdiction,
I hither came. She's pure as spotless saints.
Elw. I will not be excus'd by Percy's crime;
So white my innocence, it does not ask
The shade of others' faults to set it off;
Nor shall he need to sully his fair fame
To throw a brighter lustre round my virtue.
Dou. Yet he can only die—but death for honour!
Ye powers of hell, who take malignant joy
In human bloodshed, give me some dire means,
Wild as my hate, and desperate as my wrongs!
Per. Enough of words. Thou know'st I hate thee, Douglas;
'Tis stedfast, fix'd, hereditary hate,
As thine for me; our fathers did bequeath it
As part of our unalienable birthright,
Which nought but death can end.—Come, end it here.
Elw. [kneels] Hold, Douglas, hold!—not for myself I kneel,
I do not plead for Percy, but for thee:
Arm not thy hand against thy future peace,
Spare thy brave breast the tortures of remorse,—
Stain not a life of unpolluted honour,
For, oh! as surely as thou strik'st at Percy,
Thou wilt for ever stab the fame of Douglas.
Per. Finish the bloody work.
Dou. Then take thy wish.
Per. Why dost thou start?
[Percy bares his bosom. Douglas advances
to stab him, and discovers the scarf.
Dou. Her scarf upon his breast!
The blasting sight converts me into stone;
Withers my powers like cowardice or age,
Curdles the blood within my shiv'ring veins,
And palsies my bold arm.
Per. [ironically to the Knights] Hear you, his friends!
Bear witness to the glorious, great exploit,
Record it in the annals of his race,
That Douglas, the renown'd—the valiant Douglas,
Fenc'd round with guards, and safe in his own castle,
Surpris'd a knight unarm'd, and bravely slew him.
Dou. [throwing away his dagger]
'Tis true—I am the very stain of knighthood.
How is my glory dimm'd!
Elw. It blazes brighter!
Douglas was only brave—he now is generous!
Per. This action has restor'd thee to thy rank,
And makes thee worthy to contend with Percy.
Dou. Thy joy will be as short as 'tis insulting.[to Elwina.
And thou, imperious boy, restrain thy boasting.
Thou hast sav'd my honour, not remov'd my hate,
For my soul loaths thee for the obligation.
Give him his sword.
Per. Now thou'rt a noble foe,
And in the field of honour I will meet thee,
As knight encount'ring knight.
Elw. Stay, Percy, stay,
Strike at the wretched cause of all, strike here,
Here sheath thy thirsty sword, but spare my husband.
Dou. Turn, madam, and address those vows to me,
To spare the precious life of him you love.
Even now you triumph in the death of Douglas;
Now your loose fancy kindles at the thought,
And, wildly rioting in lawless hope,
Indulges the adultery of the mind.
But I'll defeat that wish.—Guards, bear her in.
Nay, do not struggle.[she is borne in.
Per. Let our deaths suffice,
And reverence virtue in that form inshrin'd.
Dou. Provoke my rage no farther.—I have kindled
The burning torch of never-dying vengeance
At love's expiring lamp.—But mark me, friends,
If Percy's happier genius should prevail,
And I should fall, give him safe conduct hence,
Be all observance paid him.—Go, I follow thee.
[aside to Edric.
Within I've something for thy private ear.
Per. Now shall this mutual fury be appeas'd!
These eager hands shall soon be drench'd in slaughter!
Yes—like two famish'd vultures snuffing blood,
And panting to destroy, we'll rush to combat;
Yet I've the deepest, deadliest, cause of hate,
I am but Percy, thou'rt—Elwina's husband. [exeunt.

ACT THE FIFTH.

SCENE I. ELWINA'S APARTMENT.

Elw. Thou who in judgment still remember'st mercy,
Look down upon my woes, preserve my husband!
Preserve my husband! Ah, I dare not ask it;
My very prayers may pull down ruin on me!
If Douglas should survive, what then becomes
Of—him—I dare not name? And if he conquers,
I've slain my husband. Agonizing state!
When I can neither hope, nor think, nor pray,
But guilt involves me. Sure to know the worst
Cannot exceed the torture of suspense,
When each event is big with equal horror.[looks out.
What, no one yet? This solitude is dreadful!
My horrors multiply!
Enter Birtha.
Thou messenger of woe!
Bir. Of woe, indeed!
Elw. How, is my husband dead?
Oh, speak!
Bir. Your husband lives.
Elw. Then farewell, Percy!
He was the tenderest, truest!—Bless him, heaven,
With crowns of glory and immortal joys!
Bir. Still are you wrong; the combat is not over.
Stay, flowing tears, and give me leave to speak.
Elw. Thou sayest that Percy and my husband live;
Then why this sorrow?
Bir. What a task is mine!
Elw. Thou talk'st as if I were a child in grief,
And scarce acquainted with calamity.
Speak out, unfold thy tale, whate'er it be,
For I am so familiar with affliction,
It cannot come in any shape will shock me.
Bir. How shall I speak? Thy husband——
Elw. What of Douglas?
Bir. When all was ready for the fatal combat,
He call'd his chosen knights, then drew his sword,
And on it made them swear a solemn oath,
Confirm'd by every rite religion bids,
That they would see perform'd his last request,
Be it whate'er it would. Alas! they swore.
Elw. What did the dreadful preparation mean?
Bir. Then to their hands he gave a poison'd cup,
Compounded of the deadliest herbs and drugs;
Take this, said he, it is a husband's legacy;
Percy may conquer—and—I have a wife!
If Douglas falls, Elwina must not live.
Elw. Spirit of Herod! Why, 'twas greatly thought!
'Twas worthy of the bosom which conceiv'd it!
Yet 'twas too merciful to be his own.
Yes, Douglas, yes, my husband, I'll obey thee,
And bless thy genius which has found the means
To reconcile thy vengeance with my peace,
The deadly means to make obedience pleasant.
Bir. O spare, for pity spare, my bleeding heart:
Inhuman to the last! Unnatural poison!
Elw. My gentle friend, what is there in a name?
The means are little where the end is kind.
If it disturb thee, do not call it poison;
Call it the sweet oblivion of my cares,
My balm of woe, my cordial of affliction,
The drop of mercy to my fainting soul,
My kind dismission from a world of sorrow,
My cap of bliss, my passport to the skies.
Bir. Hark! what alarm is that?
Elw. The combat's over![Birtha goes out.
[Elwina stands in a fixed attitude, her hands clasped.
Now, gracious heaven, sustain me in the trial,
And bow my spirit to thy great decrees!
Re-enter Birtha.
[Elwina looks stedfastly at her without speaking.
Bir. Douglas is fallen.
Elw. Bring me the poison.
Bir. Never.
Elw. Where are the knights? I summon you—approach!
Draw near, ye awful ministers of fate,
Dire instruments of posthumous revenge!
Come—I am ready; but your tardy justice
Defrauds the injur'd dead.—Go, haste, my friend,
See that the castle be securely guarded,
Let every gate be barr'd—prevent his entrance.
Bir. Whose entrance?
Elw. His—the murderer of my husband.
Bir. He's single, we have hosts of friends.
Elw. No matter;
Who knows what love and madness may attempt?
But here I swear by all that binds the good,
Never to see him more.—Unhappy Douglas!
O if thy troubled spirit still is conscious
Of our past woes, look down, and hear me swear,
That when the legacy thy rage bequeath'd me
Works at my heart, and conquers struggling nature,
Ev'n in that agony I'll still be faithful.
She who could never love, shall yet obey, thee,
Weep thy hard fate, and die to prove her truth.
Bir. O unexampled virtue![a noise without.
Elw. Heard you nothing?
By all my fears the insulting conqueror comes.
O save me, shield me!
Enter Douglas.
Heaven and earth, my husband!
Dou. Yes——
To blast thee with the sight of him thou hat'st,
Of him thou hast wrong'd, adultress, 'tis thy husband.
Elw. [kneels.] Blest be the fountain of eternal mercy,
This load of guilt is spar'd me! Douglas lives!
Perhaps both live! [to Birtha.] Could I be sure of that,
The poison were superfluous, joy would kill me.
Dou. Be honest now, for once, and curse thy stars;
Curse thy detested fate which brings thee back
A hated husband, when thy guilty soul
Revell'd in fond, imaginary joys
With my too happy rival; when thou flew'st,
To gratify impatient, boundless passion,
And join adulterous lust to bloody murder;
Then to reverse the scene! polluted woman!
Mine is the transport now, and thine the pang.
Elw. Whence sprung the false report that thou had'st fall'n?
Dou. To give thy guilty breast a deeper wound,
To add a deadlier sting to disappointment,
I rais'd it—I contriv'd—I sent it thee.
Elw. Thou seest me bold, but bold in conscious virtue.
—That my sad soul may not be stain'd with blood,
That I may spend my few short hours in peace,
And die in holy hope of Heaven's forgiveness,
Relieve the terrors of my lab'ring breast,
Say I am clear of murder—say he lives,
Say but that little word, that Percy lives,
And Alps and oceans shall divide us ever,
As far as universal space can part us.
Dou. Canst thou renounce him?
Elw. Tell me that he lives,
And thou shall be the ruler of my fate,
For ever hide me in a convent's gloom,
From cheerful day-light, and the haunts of men,
Where sad austerity and ceaseless prayer
Shall share my uncomplaining day between them.
Dou. O, hypocrite! now, Vengeance, to thy office.
I had forgot—Percy commends him to thee,
And by my hand—
Elw. How—by thy hand?
Dou. Has sent thee
This precious pledge of love.[he gives her Percy's scarf.
Elw. Then Percy's dead!
Dou. He is.—O great revenge, thou now art mine!
See how convulsive sorrow rends her frame!
This, this is transport!—injur'd honour now
Receives its vast, its ample retribution.
She sheds no tears, her grief's too highly wrought;
'Tis speechless agony.—She must not faint—
She shall not 'scape her portion of the pain.
No! she shall feel the fulness of distress,
And wake to keen perception of her loss.
Bir. Monster! Barbarian! leave her to her sorrows.
Elw. [in a low broken voice.]
Douglas—think not I faint, because thou see'st
The pale and bloodless cheek of wan despair.
Fail me not yet, my spirits; thou cold heart,
Cherish thy freezing current one short moment,
And bear thy mighty load a little longer.
Dou. Percy, I must avow it, bravely fought,—
Died as a hero should;—but, as he fell,
(Hear it, fond wanton!) call'd upon thy name,
And his last guilty breath sigh'd out—Elwina!
Come—give a loose to rage, and feed thy soul
With wild complaints, and womanish upbraidings.
Elw. [in a low solemn voice.] No.
The sorrow's weak that wastes itself in words,
Mine is substantial anguish—deep, not loud;
I do not rave.—Resentment's the return
Of common souls for common injuries.
Light grief is proud of state, and courts compassion;
But there's a dignity in cureless sorrow,
A sullen grandeur which disdains complaint;
Rage is for little wrongs—Despair is dumb.
[exeunt Elwina and Birtha.
Dou. Why this is well! her sense of woe is strong!
The sharp, keen tooth of gnawing grief devours her,
Feeds on her heart, and pays me back my pangs.
Since I must perish 'twill be glorious ruin:
I fall not singly, but, like some proud tower,
I'll crush surrounding objects in the wreck,
And make the devastation wide and dreadful.
Enter Raby.
Raby. O whither shall a wretched father turn?
Where fly for comfort? Douglas, art thou here?
I do not ask for comfort at thy hands.
I'd but one little casket where I lodged
My precious hoard of wealth, and, like an idiot,
I gave my treasure to another's keeping,
Who threw away the gem, nor knew its value,
But left the plunder'd owner quite a beggar.
Dou. What art thou come to see thy race dishonour'd?
And thy bright sun of glory set in blood?
I would have spar'd thy virtues, and thy age,
The knowledge of her infamy.
Raby. 'Tis false.
Had she been base, this sword had drank her blood.
Dou. Ha! dost thou vindicate the wanton?
Raby. Wanton?
Thou hast defam'd a noble lady's honour—
My spotless child—in me behold her champion:
The strength of Hercules will nerve this arm,
When lifted in defence of innocence.
The daughter's virtue for the father's shield,
Will make old Raby still invincible.[offers to draw.
Dou. Forbear.
Raby. Thou dost disdain my feeble arm,
And scorn my age.
Dou. There will be blood enough;
Nor need thy wither'd veins, old lord, be drain'd,
To swell the copious stream.
Raby. Thou wilt not kill her?
Dou. Oh, 'tis a day of horror!
Enter Edric and Birtha.
Edr. Where is Douglas?
I come to save him from the deadliest crime
Revenge did ever meditate.
Dou. What meanest thou?
Edr. This instant fly, and save thy guiltless wife.
Dou. Save that perfidious—
Edr. That much-injur'd woman.
Bir. Unfortunate indeed, but O most innocent!
Edr. In the last solemn article of death,
That truth-compelling state, when even bad men
Fear to speak falsely, Percy clear'd her fame.
Dou. I heard him—'Twas the guilty fraud of love.
The scarf, the scarf! that proof of mutual passion,
Given but this day to ratify their crimes!
Bir. What means my lord? This day? That fatal scarf
Was given long since, a toy of childish friendship;
Long ere your marriage, ere you knew Elwina.
Raby. 'Tis I am guilty.
Dou. Ha!
Raby. I,—I alone.
Confusion, honour, pride, parental fondness,
Distract my soul,—Percy was not to blame,
He was—the destin'd husband of Elwina!
He loved her—was belov'd—and I approv'd.
The tale is long.—I chang'd my purpose since,
Forbad their marriage—
Dou. And confirm'd my mis'ry!
Twice did they meet to-day—my wife and Percy.
Raby. I know it.
Dou. Ha! thou knew'st of my dishonour?
Thou wast a witness, an approving witness,
At least a tame one!
Raby. Percy came, 'tis true,
A constant, tender, but a guiltless lover!
Dou. I shall grow mad indeed; a guiltless lover!
Percy, the guiltless lover of my wife!
Raby. He knew not she was married.
Dou. How? is't possible?
Raby. Douglas, 'tis true; both, both were innocent;
He of her marriage, she of his return.
Bir. But now, when we believ'd thee dead, she vow'd
Never to see thy rival. Instantly,
Not in a state of momentary passion,
But with a martyr's dignity and calmness,
She bade me bring the poison.
Dou. Had'st thou done it,
Despair had been my portion! Fly, good Birtha,
Find out the suffering saint—describe my penitence,
And paint my vast extravagance of fondness,
Tell her I love as never mortal lov'd—
Tell her I know her virtues, and adore them—
Tell her I come, but dare not seek her presence,
Till she pronounce my pardon.
Bir. I obey.[exit Birtha.
Raby. My child is innocent! ye choirs of saints,
Catch the blest sounds—my child is innocent!
Dou. O I will kneel, and sue for her forgiveness,
And thou shalt help me plead the cause of love,
And thou shalt weep—she cannot sure refuse
A kneeling husband and a weeping father.
Thy venerable cheek is wet already.
Raby. Douglas! it is the dew of grateful joy!
My child is innocent! I now would die,
Lest fortune should grow weary of her kindness,
And grudge me this short transport.
Dou. Where, where, is she?
My fond impatience brooks not her delay;
Quick, let me find her, hush her anxious soul,
And sooth her troubled spirit into peace.
Enter Birtha.
Bir. O horror, horror, horror!
Dou. Ah! what mean'st thou?
Bir. Elwina—
Dou. Speak—
Bir. Her grief wrought up to frenzy,
She has, in her delirium, swallow'd poison!
Raby. Frenzy and poison!
Dou. Both a husband's gift;
But thus I do her justice.
As Douglas goes to stab himself, enter Elwina distracted,
her hair dishevelled, Percy's scarf in her hand.
Elw. [goes up to Douglas.]
What, blood again? We cannot kill him twice!
Soft, soft—no violence—he's dead already;—
I did it—Yes—I drown'd him with my tears;
But hide the cruel deed! I'll scratch him out
A shallow grave, and lay the green sod on it;
Ay—and I'll bind the wild briar o'er the turf,
And plant a willow there, a weeping willow—
[she sits on the ground.
But look you tell not Douglas, he'll disturb him;
He'll pluck the willow up—and plant a thorn.
He will not let me sit upon his grave,
And sing all day, and weep and pray all night.
Raby. Dost thou not know me?
Elw. Yes—I do remember
You had a harmless lamb.
Raby. I had indeed!
Elw. From all the flock you chose her out a mate,
In sooth a fair one—you did bid her love it—
But while the shepherd slept, the wolf devour'd it.
Raby. My heart will break. This is too much, too much!
Elw. [smiling.] O 'twas a cordial draught—I drank it all.
Raby. What means my child?
Dou. The poison! Oh the poison!
Thou dear wrong'd innocence—
Elw. Off—murderer, off!
Do not defile me with those crimson hands.
[shews the scarf.
This is his winding sheet—I'll wrap him in it—
I wrought it for my love—there—now I've drest him.
How brave he looks! my father will forgive him,
He dearly lov'd him once—but that is over.
See where he comes—beware, my gallant Percy,
Ah! come not here, this is the cave of death,
And there's the dark, dark palace of Revenge!
See the pale king sits on his blood-stain'd throne!
He points to me—I come, I come, I come.
[she faints, they run to her,
Douglas takes up his sword and stabs himself.
Dou. Thus, thus I follow thee.
Edr. Hold thy rash hand!
Dou. It is too late. No remedy but this
Could medicine a disease so desperate.
Raby. Ah, she revives!
Dou. [raising himself.] She lives! bear, bear me to her!
We shall be happy yet.
[he struggles to get to her, but sinks down.
It will not be—
O for a last embrace—Alas! I faint—
She lives——Now death is terrible indeed—
Fair spirit, I lov'd thee—O—Elwina![dies.
Elw. Where have I been? The damps of death are on me.
Raby. Look up, my child! O do not leave me thus!
Pity the anguish of thy aged father.
Hast thou forgot me?
Elw. No—you are my father;
O you are kindly come to close my eyes,
And take the kiss of death from my cold lips!
Raby. Do we meet thus?
Elw. We soon shall meet in peace.ind1
I've but a faint remembrance of the past—
But something tells me—O those painful struggles!
Raise me a little—there—[she sees the body of Douglas.
What sight is that?
A sword, and bloody? Ah! and Douglas murder'd!
Edr. Convinc'd too late of your unequall'd virtues,
And wrung with deep compunction for your wrongs,
By his own hand the wretched Douglas fell.
Elw. This adds another, sharper pang to death.
O thou Eternal! take him to thy mercy,
Nor let this sin be on his head, or mine!
Raby. I have undone you all—the crime is mine!
O thou poor injur'd saint, forgive thy father,
He kneels to his wrong'd child.
Elw. Now you are cruel.
Come near, my father, nearer—I would see you,
But mists and darkness cloud my failing sight.
O Death! suspend thy rights for one short moment,
Till I have ta'en a father's last embrace—
A father's blessing.—Once—and now 'tis over.
Receive me to thy mercy, gracious Heaven![she dies.
Raby. She's gone! for ever gone! cold, dead and cold.
Am I a father? Fathers love their children——
I murder mine! With impious pride I snatch'd
The bolt of vengeance from the hand of Heaven.
My punishment is great—but oh! 'tis just.
My soul submissive bows. A righteous God
Has made my crime become my chastisement.[exeunt.

THE END.

Maurice,
Fenchurch Street.