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His hand had wrought; and when, in the hour of For act and suffering, to the city straight

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READERS already acquainted with my Poems will recognise, in the following composition, some eight or ten lines, which I have not scrupled to retain in the places where they originally stood. It is proper however to add, that they would not have been used elsewhere, if I had foreseen the time when I might be induced to publish this Tragedy. February 28, 1842.

ACT I.

SCENE, road in a Wood.

WALLACE and LACY.

Lacy. The Troop will be impatient; let us hie
Back to our post, and strip the Scottish Foray
Of their rich Spoil, ere they recross the Border.
-Pity that our young Chief will have no part
In this good service.

Wal.
Rather let us grieve
That, in the undertaking which has caused
His absence, he hath sought, whate'er his aim,
Companionship with One of crooked ways,
From whose perverted soul can come no good
To our confiding, open-hearted, Leader.

Lacy. True; and, remembering how the Band

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Wil.

Mar.

Oh, Sir !

And I had heard the like before: in sooth Peace, my good Wilfred ; | The tale of this his quondam Barony Repair to Liddesdale, and tell the Band

I shall be with them in two days, at farthest.
Wil. May He whose eye is over all protect you!

[Exit.

Enter OSWALD (a bunch of plants in his hand). Os. This wood is rich in plants and curious simples.

Is cunningly devised; and, on the back
Of his forlorn appearance, could not fail
To make the proud and vain his tributaries,
And stir the pulse of lazy charity.

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Mar. (looking at them). The wild rose, and the Though I have never seen his face, methinks,

poppy, and the nightshade :

Which is your favorite, Oswald?

Orio That which, while it is Strong to destroy, is also strong to heal

[Looking forward. Not yet in sight!-We'll saunter here awhile; They cannot mount the hill, by us unseen. Mar. (a letter in his hand). It is no common thing when one like you

Performs these delicate services, and therefore
I feel myself much bounden to you, Oswald ;
'Tis a strange letter this!--You saw her write it?
One. And saw the tears with which she blotted it.
Mar. And nothing less would satisfy him?
Orw

No less;

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There cannot come a day when I shall cease
To love him. I remember, when a Boy

Of scarcely seven years' growth, beneath the Elm
That casts its shade over our village school,
'Twas my delight to sit and hear Idonea
Repeat her Father's terrible adventures,
Till all the band of play-mates wept together;
And that was the beginning of my love.
And, through all converse of our later years,
An image of this old Man still was present,
When I had been most happy. Pardon me
If this be idly spoken.

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Idon. That dismal MoorIn spite of all the larks that cheered our path, I never can forgive it but how steadily You paced along, when the bewildering moonlight Mocked me with many a strange fantastic shape!— I thought the Convent never would appear; It seemed to move away from us: and yet, That you are thus the fault is mine; for the air Was soft and warm, no dew lay on the grass, And midway on the waste ere night had fallen I spied a Covert walled and roofed with sodsA miniature; belike some Shepherd-boy, Who might have found a nothing-doing hour Heavier than work, raised it: within that hut We might have made a kindly bed of heath, And thankfully there rested side by side

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