Some moons have now completed their slow course Since my sad marriage.--Percy still is absent.

_Bir._ Nor will return before his sov'reign comes.

_Elw._ Talk not of his return! this coward heart Can know no thought of peace but in his absence.

How, Douglas here again? some fresh alarm!

_Enter Douglas, agitated, with letters in his hand._

_Dou._ Madam, your pardon--

_Elw._ What disturbs my lord?

_Dou._ Nothing.--Disturb! I ne'er was more at ease.

These letters from your father give us notice He will be here to-night:--He further adds, The king's each hour expected.

_Elw._ How? the king?

Said you, the king?

_Dou._ And 'tis Lord Raby's pleasure That you among the foremost bid him welcome.

You must attend the court.

_Elw._ Must I, my lord?

_Dou._ Now to observe how she receives the news! [_aside._

_Elw._ I must not,--cannot.--By the tender love You have so oft profess'd for poor Elwina, Indulge this one request--O let me stay!

_Dou._ Enchanting sounds! she does not wish to go-- [_aside._

_Elw._ The bustling world, the pomp which waits on greatness, Ill suits my humble, unambitious soul;-- Then leave me here, to tread the safer path Of private life; here, where my peaceful course Shall be as silent as the shades around me; Nor shall one vagrant wish be e'er allow'd To stray beyond the bounds of Raby Castle.

_Dou._ O music to my ears! [_aside._] Can you resolve To hide those wond'rous beauties in the shade, Which rival kings would cheaply buy with empire?

Can you renounce the pleasures of a court, Whose roofs resound with minstrelsy and mirth?

_Elw._ My lord, retirement is a wife's best duty, And virtue's safest station is retreat.

_Dou._ My soul's in transports! [_aside_] But can you forego What wins the soul of woman--admiration?

A world, where charms inferior far to yours Only presume to shine when you are absent!

Will you not long to meet the public gaze?

Long to eclipse the fair, and charm the brave?

_Elw._ These are delights in which the mind partakes not.

_Dou._ I'll try her farther. [_aside._

[_takes her hand, and looks stedfastly at her as he speaks._

But reflect once more: When you shall hear that England's gallant peers, Fresh from the fields of war, and gay with glory, All vain with conquest, and elate with fame, When you shall hear these princely youths contend, In many a tournament, for beauty's prize; When you shall hear of revelry and masking, Of mimic combats and of festive halls, Of lances shiver'd in the cause of love, Will you not then repent, then wish your fate, Your happier fate, had till that hour reserv'd you For some plumed conqueror?

_Elw._ My fate, my lord, Is now bound up with yours.

_Dou._ Here let me kneel-- Yes, I will kneel, and gaze, and weep, and wonder; Thou paragon of goodness!--pardon, pardon, [_kisses her hand._ I am convinc'd--I can no longer doubt, Nor talk, nor hear, nor reason, nor reflect.

--I must retire, and give a loose to joy. [_exit Douglas._

_Bir._ The king returns.

_Elw._ And with him Percy comes!

_Bir._ You needs must go.

_Elw._ Shall I solicit ruin, And pull destruction on me ere its time?

I, who have held it criminal to name him?

I will not go--I disobey thee, Douglas, But disobey thee to preserve thy honour. [_exeunt._

ACT THE SECOND.

SCENE I. THE HALL.

_Enter Douglas, speaking._

See that the traitor instantly be seiz'd, And strictly watch'd: let none have access to him.-- O jealousy, thou aggregate of woes!

Were there no h.e.l.l, thy torments would create one.

But yet she may be guiltless--may? she must.

How beautiful she look'd! pernicious beauty!

Yet innocent as bright seem'd the sweet blush That mantled on her cheek. But not for me, But not for me, those breathing roses blow!

And then she wept--What! can I bear her tears?

Well--let her weep--her tears are for another; O did they fall for me, to dry their streams I'd drain the choicest blood that feeds this heart, Nor think the drops I shed were half so precious.

[_he stands in a musing posture._

_Enter Lord Raby._

_Raby._ Sure I mistake--am I in Raby Castle?

Impossible; that was the seat of smiles; And Cheerfulness and Joy were household G.o.ds.

I us'd to scatter pleasures when I came, And every servant shar'd his lord's delight; But now Suspicion and Distrust dwell here, And Discontent maintains a sullen sway.

Where is the smile unfeign'd, the jovial welcome, Which cheer'd the sad, beguil'd the pilgrim's pain, And made Dependency forget its bonds?

Where is the antient, hospitable hall, Whose vaulted roof once rung with harmless mirth, Where every pa.s.sing stranger was a guest, And every guest a friend? I fear me much, If once our n.o.bles scorn their rural seats, Their rural greatness, and their va.s.sals' love, Freedom and English grandeur are no more.

_Dou._ [_advancing._] My lord, you are welcome.

_Raby._ Sir, I trust I am; But yet methinks I shall not feel I'm welcome Till my Elwina bless me with her smiles: She was not wont with ling'ring step to meet me, Or greet my coming with a cold embrace; Now, I extend my longing arms in vain; My child, my darling, does not come to fill them.

O they were happy days, when she would fly To meet me from the camp, or from the chace, And with her fondness overpay my toils!

How eager would her tender hands unbrace The ponderous armour from my war-worn limbs, And pluck the helmet which oppos'd her kiss!

_Dou._ O sweet delights, that never must be mine!