Norv. The setting sun

With yellow radiance lighted all the vale;
And as the warriors moved, each polished helm,
Corslet, or spear, glanced back his gilded beams.
The hill they climbed; and, halting at its top,
Of more than mortal size, towering, they seemed
A host angelic, clad in burning arms.

Glen. Thou talk'st it well; no leader of our host
In sounds more lofty speaks of glorious war.

Norv. If I should e'er acquire a leader's name,
My speech will be less ardent. Novelty

Now prompts my tongue, and youthful admiration
Vents itself freely; since no part is mine

Of praise pertaining to the great in arms.

Glen. You wrong yourself, brave sir; your martial deeds Have ranked you with the great. But mark me, Norval; Lord Randolph's favor now, exalts your youth

Above his veterans of famous service.

Let me, who know these soldiers, counsel you.
Give them all honor: seem not to command,

Else they will hardly brook your late-sprung power,
Which nor alliance props nor birth adorns.

Norv. Sir, I have been accustomed all my days

To hear and speak the plain and simple truth;
And though I have been told that there are men
Who borrow friendship's tongue to speak their scorn,
Yet in such language I am little skilled:
Therefore I thank Glenalvon for his counsel,
Although it sounded harshly. Why remind
Me of my birth obscure? Why slur my power
With such contemptuous terms?

Glen. I did not mean

To gall your pride, which now I see is great.
Norv. My pride!

Glen. Suppress it, as you wish to prosper.-
Your pride's excessive. Yet, for Randolph's sake,
I will not leave you to its rash direction.

If thus you swell, and frown at high-born men,
Will high-born men endure a shepherd's scorn?
Norv. A shepherd's scorn!

Glen. Yes; if you presume

To bend on soldiers these disdainful eyes,
As if you took the measure of their minds,

And said in secret, You're no match for me,

What will become of you?

Norv. Hast thou no fears for thy presumptuous self?
Glen. Ha! dost thou threaten me?

Norv. Didst thou not hear?

Glen. Unwillingly I did; a nobler foe

Had not been questioned thus; but such as thee—
Norv. Whom dost thou think me?

Glen. Norval.

Norv. So I am—

And who is Norval in Glenalvon's eyes?

Glen. A peasant's son, a wandering beggar boy;
At best no more, even if he speaks the truth.

Norv. False as thou art, dost thou suspect my truth?
Glen. Thy truth! thou'rt all a lie; and false as hell
Is the vain-glorious tale thou told'st to Randolph.
Norv. If I were chained, unarmed, or bed-rid old,
Perhaps I should revile; but as I am,

I have no tongue to rail. The humble Norval
Is of a race who strive not but with deeds.
Did I not fear to freeze thy shallow valor,

And make thee sink too soon beneath my sword,

I'd tell thee-what thou art. I know thee well.

Glen. Dost thou not know Glenalvon, born to command Ten thousand slaves like thee?

Norv. Villain, no more!

Draw and defend thy life. I did design

To have defied thee in another cause;

But Heaven accelerates its vengeance on thee.

Now for my own and Lady Randolph's wrongs.

Lord. Ran. [Enters.] Hold! I command you both! the man that stirs

Makes me his foe.

Norv. Another voice than thine,

That threat had vainly sounded, noble Randolph.

Glen. Hear him, my lord; he's wondrous condescending! Mark the humility of shepherd Norval!

Norv. Now you may scoff in safety. [Sheathes his sword.] Lord Ran. Speak not thus,

Taunting each other, but unfold to me

The cause of quarrel; then I judge betwixt you.

Norv. Nay, my good lord, though I revere you much,
My cause I plead not, nor demand your judgment.
I blush to speak: I will not, can not speak

The opprobrious words that I from him have borne.
To the liege lord of my dear native land
I owe a subject's homage; but even him
And his high arbitration I'd reject.
Within my bosom reigns another lord;
Honor, sole judge and umpire of itself.
If my free speech offend you, noble Randolph,
Revoke your favors, and let Norval go

Hence as he came, alone, but not dishonored!

Lord Ran. Thus far I'll mediate with impartial voice;

The ancient foe of Caledonia's land

Now waves his banner o'er her frighted fields;
Suspend your purpose till your country's arms
Repel the bold invader; then decide

The private quarrel.

Glen. I agree to this.
Norv. And I.

Ex. CCXXXVIII.—DIALOGUE.-THE BROTHER'S APPEAL.

SALADIN, MALEK ADHEL, ATTENDANT.

ANON.

Attendant. A stranger craves admittance to your highness. Saladin. Whence comes he?

Atten. That I know not.

Enveloped with a vestment of strange form,

His countenance is hidden; but his step,
His lofty port, his voice in vain disguised,
Proclaim if that I dare pronounce it-
Sal. Whom?

Atten. Thy royal brother!

Sal. Bring him instantly. [Exit Attendant.] Now, with his specious, smooth, persuasive tongue, Fraught with some wily subterfuge, he thinks

To dissipate my anger. He shall die!

[Enter Attendant and Malek Adhel.] Leave us together. Exit Attendant.] [Aside.] I should know that form.

Now summon all thy fortitude, my soul,

Nor, though thy blood cry for him, spare the guilty! [Aloud.] Well, stranger, speak; but first unvail thyself,

For Saladin must view the form that fronts him.

Malek Adhel. Behold it, then!

Sal. I see a traitor's visage.

Mal. Ad. A brother's!

Sal. No!

Saladin owns no kindred with a villain.

Mal. Ad. O, patience, Heaven! Had any tongue but thine

Uttered that word, it ne'er should speak another.

Sal. And why not now? Can this heart be more pierced By Malek Adhel's sword than by his deeds? O, thou hast made a desert of this bosom ! For open candor, planted sly disguise; For confidence, suspicion; and the glow Of generous friendship, tenderness and love, For ever banished! Whither can I turn, When he by blood, by gratitude, by faith, By every tie, bound to support, forsakes me? Who, who can stand, when Malek Adhel falls? Henceforth I turn me from the sweets of love: The smiles of friendship, and this glorious world, In which all find some heart to rest upon, Shall be to Saladin a cheerless void,

His brother has betrayed him!

Mal. Ad. Thou art softened;

I am thy brother, then; but late thou saidst-
My tongue can never utter the base title!
Sal. Was it traitor? True!

Thou hast betrayed me in my fondest hopes!
Villain? 'Tis just; the title is appropriate!
Dissembler? Tis not written in thy face;
No, nor imprinted on that specious brow;
But on this breaking heart the name is stamped,
For ever stamped, with that of Malek Adhel!

Thinkest thou I'm softened? By Mohammed! these hands

Shall crush these aching eyeballs, ere a tear

Fall from them at thy fate! O, monster, monster!

The brute that tears the infant from its nurse

Is excellent to thee, for in his form

The impulse of his nature may be read;
But thou, so beautiful, so proud, so noble,
O, what a wretch art thou! O! can a term
In all the various tongues of man be found
To match thy infamy?

Mal. Ad. Go on! go on!

'Tis but a little while to hear thee, Saladin; And, bursting at thy feet, this heart will prove Its penitence, at least.

Sal. That were an end

Too noble for a traitor! The bowstring is

A more apropriate finish! Thou shalt die!

Mal. Ad. And death were welcome at another's mandate ! What, what have I to live for? Be it so,

If that, in all thy armies, can be found
An executing hand.

Sal. O, doubt it not!

They 're eager for the office. Perfidy,

So black as thine, effaces from their minds

All memory of thy former excellence.

Mal. Ad. Defer not, then, their wishes. Saladin,

If e'er this form was joyful to thy sight,

This voice seemed grateful to thine ear, accede

To my last prayer :-O, lengthen not this scene,
To which the agonies of death were pleasing!
Let me die speedily!

Sal. This very hour!

[Aside.] For, O! the more I look upon that face, The more I hear the accents of that voice,

The monarch softens, and the judge is lost

In all the brother's weakness; yet such guilt,—

Such vile ingratitude,-it calls for vengeance;

And vengeance it shall have! What, ho! who waits there!

Atten. Did your highness call?

Sal. Assemble quickly

[Enter Attendant.]

My forces in the court. Tell them they come

To view the death of yon bosom-traitor.

And, bid them mark, that he who will not spare

His brother when he errs, expects obedience,

Silent obedience, from his followers. [Exit Attendant.]

Mal. Ad. Now, Saladin,

The word is given; I have nothing more

To fear from thee, my brother. I am not
About to crave a miserable life.

Without thy love, thy honor, thy esteem,
Life were a burden to me.

Think not, either,

The justice of thy sentence I would question.

But one request now trembles on my tongue,-
One wish still clinging round the heart, which soon