I am indeed the daughter of Sir Malcolm; The child thou rescuedst from the flood is mine. Pris. Blest be the hour that made me a poor man; My poverty hath saved my master's house! Lady R. Thy words surprise me; sure thou dost not feign! The tear stands in thine eye; such love from thee Sir Malcolm's house deserved not, if aright Thou told'st the story of thy own distress. Pris. Sir Malcolm of our barons was the flower; Your own brave brother, fell, the good old lord By them I was thrust out, and them I blame : And God so love me as I love his race! Lady R. His race shall yet reward thee. On thy faith Pris. I remember the cottage of the cliffs. There dwells a man of venerable age, To me hast told. No more but this, and thou Thy son so long shall call thee father still, And all the land shall bless the man who saved Pris. Fear not that I shall mar so fair a harvest, Why I did leave my home and ancient dame [LADY RANDOLPH goes towards the Servants. To their right owner, whom in haste he seeks. [Exeunt Prisoner and Servants. My faithful Anna, dost thou share my joy? I know thou dost. Unparalleled event! Reaching from heaven to earth, Jehovah's arm How soon he gazed on bright and burning arms, Spurned the low dunghill where his fate had thrown him, And towered up to the regions of his sire! Anna. How fondly did your eyes devour the boy! Mysterious Nature, with the unseen cord Of powerful instinct, drew you to your own. Lady R. The ready story of his birth believed, Suppressed my fancy quite; nor did he owe Το any likeness my so sudden favour: But now I long to see his face again, Anna. With wary caution you must bear yourself To-day the baron started at your tears. Lady R. He did so, Anna; well thy mistress knows If the least circumstance, mote of offence, Should touch the baron's eye, his sight would be It does behoove me instant to declare The birth of Douglas, and assert his rights. . . . SURE I am 'tis madness, Inhuman madness, thus from half the world To drain its blood and treasure, to neglect Those vales, those cities, trod by saints and prophets, But the same God, my friend, pervades, sustains, And every land, where spreads His vital presence, Excuse me, Theald, if I go too far: I meant alone to say, I think these wars TANCRED AND SIGISMUNDA. Miscalculations of Old Men. THOSE old men, those plodding, grave state pedants, Forget the course of youth; their crooked prudence, To baseness verging stili, forgets to take Into their fine-spun schemes the generous heart, SOPHONISBA. Love. WHY should we kill the best of passions, Love? To nobler heights, inspires immortal deeds, The Fable of this Tragedy is founded on the well-known Historical Incident of the filial Piety of the Grecian Daughter, EUPHRASIA, preserving the Life of her Father, EVANDER, condemned to Death by Starvation, by DIONYSIUS, King of Syracuse. EUPHRASIA obtains permission from PHILOTAS to visit her Father in Prison, conducted by ARCAS, an Officer of the Court. SCENE-The Cavern where EVANDER is confined. Enter ARCAS and EUPHRASIA. Arc. No; on my life, I dare not. Euph. But a small, A wretched pittance; one poor cordial drop I ask no more. Arc. Not the smallest store Of scanty nourishment must pass these walls. |