Rol. To die in peace! devoting her thou'st sworn to live for, to madness, misery, and death? For be assured the state I left her in forbids all hope, but from thy quick return.

Al. Oh God!

Rol. If thou art yet irresolute, Alonzo, now heed me well. I think thou hast not known that Rolla ever pledged his word, and shrunk from its fulfillment. And by the heart of truth I swear, if thou art proudly obstinate to deny thy friend the transport of preserving Cora's life, in thee, no power that sways the will of man shall stir me hence; and thou'lt but have the desperate triumph of seeing Rolla perish by thy side, with the assured conviction that Cora and thy child are lost forever. Al. Oh, Rolla! thou distractest me!

Rol. Begone! A moment's further pause, and all is lost. The dawn approaches. Fear not for me; I will treat with Pizarro, as for surrender and submission; I shall gain time, no doubt, while thou, with a chosen band, passing the secret way, mayst at night return, release thy friend, and bear him back in triumph. Yes, hasten, dear Alonzo! Even now I hear thy frantic wife, poor Cora, call thee! Haste, Alonzo !-Haste ! Haste!

Al. Rolla, I fear thy friendship drives me from honor, and from right.

Rol. Did Rolla ever counsel dishonor to his friend?
Al. Oh! my preserver !

(Embracing him.) Rol. I feel thy warm tears dropping on my cheek.-Go! I am rewarded. (Throwing a friar's garment over Alonzo.) There, conceal thy face; and that they may not clank, hold fast thy chains. Now, God be with thee!

Al. At night we meet again. Then, so aid me Heaven! I return to save, or perish with thee!

(Exit.)

Now,

Rol. (Looking after him.) He has passed the outer porch -he is safe! he will soon embrace his wife and child! Cora, didst thou not wrong me? This is the first time throughout my life, I ever deceived man. Forgive me, God of Truth! if I am wrong. Alonzo flatters himself that we shall meet again! Yes, there! (Lifting his hands to heaven.)-Assuredly we shall meet again; there, possess in peace, the joys of everlasting love and friendship-on earth, imperfect and embit tered. I will retire, lest the guard return before Alonzo may have passed their lines. (Retires into the cell.)

XXVIII.-FROM THE LADY OF THE LAKE.-Scott.

Scene. A rock, with a watch-fire burning near it. A Scotch Highlander-Roderic Dhu-wrapped in his tartan, is discovered sleeping by it.

Roderic.

4

(Enter King James, in a warrior's garb.)

(Grasping his sword and springing on his feet.)!

Thy name and purpose, Saxon ?-Stand!

James. A stranger.

Rod. What dost thou require?

James. Rest and a guide, and food and fire.

"

My life's beset, my path is lost,

The gale has chilled my limbs with frost.

Rod. Art thou a friend to Roderic ?
James.

No.

Rod. Thou durst not call thyself his foe ?
James. I dare to him and all the band

He brings to aid his murderous hand.

"

P

Rod. Bold words! But, though the beast of game

Come Roderic Dhu,

Who ever cared where, how, or when
The prowling fox was trapped or slain?
Thus treacherous scouts, yet sure they lie,
Who say thou comest a secret spy.
James. They do, by heaven!
And of his clan the boldest two,
And, let me but till morning rest,
I'll write the falsehood on their crest.
Rod. If by the blaze I mark aright,

Thou bearest the belt and spur of knight.

James. Then by these tokens mayst thou know Each proud oppressor's mortal foe.

Rod. Enough, enough; sit down and share

A soldier's couch, a soldier's fare.

(They sit down and eat together, and in a few minutes the soldier continues the conversation.)

Rod. Stranger, I am to Roderic Dhu,

A clansman born, a kinsman true;
Each word against his honor spoke,
Demands of me avenging stroke.
It rests with me to wind my horn,
Thou art with numbers overborne ;
It rests with me, here, brand to brand,
Worn as thou art, to bid thee stand;
But not for clan, nor kindred's cause,
Will I depart from honor's laws.
To assail a wearied man were shame,
And Stranger is a holy name.
Guidance and rest, and food and fire,
In vain he never must require.
Myself will guide thee on the way,

Through watch and ward till break of day,
As far as Coilantogle ford;

From thence thy warrant is thy sword.

James. I take thy courtesy, by Heaven,

As freely as 'tis nobly given.

Rod. Why seek these wilds, traversed by few,

Without a pass from Roderic Dhu?

James. Brave man, my pass, in danger tried,

Hangs in my belt, and by my side.
Yet sooth to tell, though nought I dread,
I dreamed not now to claim its aid.

When here but three days since I came,
Bewildered in pursuit of game,
All seemed as peaceful and as still,
As the mist slumbering on yon hill.
Thy dangerous chief was then afar,
Nor soon expected back from war;
Thus said, at least, my mountain guide,
Though deep, perchance, the villain lied.
Rod. Yet, why a second venture try?
James. A warrior thou, and ask me why?
Perhaps I sought to drive away
The lazy hours of peaceful day;
Slight cause will then suffice to guide
A knight's free footsteps far and wide;
A falcon flown, a grey-hound strayed,
The merry glance of mountain maid;
Or, if a path be dangerous known,
The danger's self is lure alone.

Rod. Thy secret keep; I urge thee not,
Yet, ere again you sought this spot,
Say, heard you not of lowland war,
Against Clan Alpine raised by Mar?

James. No, by my word; of bands prepared.
To guard King James's sports I heard ;
Nor doubt I aught, but, when they hear
This muster of the Mountaineer,
Their pennons will abroad be flung.
Which else in Doune had peaceful hung.

Rod. Free be they flung! for we are loath
Their silken folds should feed the moth.
Free be they flung! as free shall wave
Clan Alpine's pine in banner brave.
But, stranger, peaceful since you came,
Bewildered in the mountain game,
Whence the bold boast, by which we know
Vich Alpine's vowed and mortal foe?

James. Warrior, but yester morn, I knew
Nought of thy chieftain, Roderic Dhu,
Save as an outlawed, desperate man,
The chief of a rebellious clan,
Who in the regent's court and sight,
With ruffian dagger stabbed a knight.

Yet this alone should from his part
Sever each true and loyal heart.

Rod. (Frowning, and both rising hastily.)
And hearedst thou why he drew his blade?
Heardest thou, that shameful word and blow
Brought Roderic's vengeance on his foe?
What recked the chieftain, if he stood
On highland heath or Holy Rood?
He rights such wrong where it is given,
Though it were in the court of heaven.
James. Still it was outrage; yet, 'tis true,
Not then claimed sovereignty his due ;
The young king mewed in Sterling tower,
Was stranger to respect and power.
But then thy chieftain's robber life,
Winning mean prey by causeless strife,
Wrenching from ruined lowland swain
His flocks and harvest reared in vain-
Methinks a soul, like thine, should scorn
The spoils from such foul conflict borne.
Rod. Saxon, from yonder mountain high,
I marked thee send delighted eye,
O'er waving fields and pastures green,
With gentle slopes, and groves between ;
These fertile plains, that softened vale,
Were once the birthright of the Gael.
The Saxons came with iron hand,
And from our fathers reft the land.
Where dwell we now? see rudely swell
Crag over crag, and fell o'er fell.
Ask we this savage hill we tread,
For fattened steer, or household bread;
Ask we for flocks these shingles dry,
And well the mountain might reply,
"To you, as to your sires of yore,
Belong the target and claymore!
I give you shelter in my breast,
Your own good blades must do the rest."
Pent in this fortress of the north,
Thinkest thou we will not sally forth
To spoil the spoiler as we may,
And from the robber rend the prey?