Suspense—uncertainty—man's bane and solace!
How racking now to me! My mother comes.
Forgive me, O my father! if in this war,
This wasting conflict of my wildering passions,
Memory of thee holds here a second place!
M'Donald comes with her. I would not meet him:
Yet I will do it. Summon up some courage—
Confess my fault, and gain, if not his love,
At least the approbation of my judgment.
Enter Mrs. Bland and Children with M'Donald.
Bland.
Say, madam, is there no change of counsel,
Or new determination?
Mrs. Bland.
Nought new, my son.
The tale of misery is told unheard.
The widow's and the orphans' sighs
Fly up, unnoted by the eye of man,
And mingle, undistinguish'd, with the winds.
My friend [To M'Donald.], attend thy duties. I must away.
2nd Child.
You need not cry, Mama, the General will do it, I am sure; for I saw him cry. He turn'd away his head from you, but I saw it.
Mrs. Bland.
Poor thing! come let us home and weep. Alas!
I can no more, for war hath made men rocks.