Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland - LightNovelsOnl.com
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_Scots driven through the gates in confusion_.
_Sir Alex_.--Woe to thee, Elliot! this defeat is thine.
Where was the caution ye but preached this morn, That ye should madly break our little band, And rush on certain ruin? Fie on thee, man!
That such an old head is so young a soldier!
Here, guard this breach, defend it to the last; Henry shall be thy comrade. On, my friends!
They cross the river, and the northern gate Will be their next attack.
_Elliot_ [_aside_].--"Woe to thee, Elliot! this defeat is thine!"
So says our Governor! 'Tis true!--_'twas_ mine!
Though I have failed me in my firm, fixed purpose, Once more he's thrown revenge within my grasp; And I will clutch it--clutch it firmly, too; I _guard_ the breach! and with his son to a.s.sist me!
The Fates grow kind! The _breach!_ he said the _breach!_ And gave his son up to the power of Edward!
_Henry_.--Why stand ye musing there? _Here_ lies your duty!
_Elliot_ [_aside_].--'Tis true! 'tis true! _my duty_ DOES _lie there!_
_Henry_.--Follow me, Elliot. See--they scale the walls!
A moment lost, and they have gained the battlement.
_Shouting_.--PERCY _and_ Followers _leap upon the battlement_.
_Percy_.--On! followers, on!--for Edward and for England!
_Henry_.--Have at thee, Percy, and thy followers, too!
For Freedom and for Scotland! On, Elliot! on!
Wipe out the morning's shame.
_Elliot_ [_aside_].--Have at thee, boy, for insult and revenge!
[ELLIOT _strikes_ HENRY'S _sword from his hand_.
_Henry_.--Shame on thee, traitor! are we thus betrayed?
[Percy's Followers _make_ HENRY _prisoner_.
_Elliot_.--Thank Heaven! thank Heaven!--one then is in their grasp!
A truce, Lord Percy. See thy prisoner safe, Ere his mad father sound a rescue--off!
Thou wouldst not draw thy sword upon a friend?
[SIR ALEXANDER, RICHARD, PROVOST RAMSAY, _and others, enter hurriedly_.
_Sir Alex_.--Thanks, Elliot! thanks! You have done n.o.bly!--thanks!
Where is your comrade?--speak--where is my son?
_Elliot_.--Would he had been less valiant--less brave!
_Sir Alex_.--What! is he dead, my good, my gallant boy?
Where is his body? show me--where? oh, where?
_Richard_.--Where is my brother? tell me how he fell?
_Elliot_.--Could I with my best blood have saved the youth, Ye are all witnesses that I would have done it.
_Provost Ramsay_.--Indeed, Mr. Elliot, if ye refer to me, I'm witness to naething o' the kind; for it is my solemn opinion, a' the execution your sword did was as f.e.c.kless as a winnle-strae.
_Sir Alex_.--Where is my poor boy's body?
_Elliot_.--I did not say he died.
_Richard_.--Not dead!
_Sir Alex_.--Not say he died?
_Elliot_.--See yonder group now hurrying to the camp, And shouting as they run. He is their prisoner!
[_Aside_] Feed ye, friends, on that.
_Sir Alex_.--Cold-blooded man! them never wert a father.
The tyrant is! he knows a father's heart; And he will play the butcher's part with mine!
Each day inflicting on me many deaths, Knowing right well I am his twofold prisoner; For on the son's head he'll repay, with interest, The wrongs the father did him!
"He is their prisoner," saidst thou?" Is their prisoner!"
Thou hast no sons!--none!--I forgive thee, Elliot!
_Elliot_.--Deeply I crave your pardon, n.o.ble sir; Pity for you, and love for Scotland, made me That I was loath to speak the unwelcome tidings; Fearful that to attempt his rescue now, Had so cut off our few remaining troops, As seal immediate ruin.
_Provost Ramsay_ [_aside_].--Preserve us a'! hear that. Weel, to be sure, it's a true saying, "Satan never lets _his_ saunts be at a loss for an answer!"
SCENE V.--_Apartment in_ EDWARD'S _Tent._
_Enter_ EDWARD _and_ PERCY.
_Edward_.--How fares it with these stubborn rebels now?
Do they still talk of death as of a bridal, While we protract the ceremony?
_Percy_.--I learn, my liege, we've got two glorious allies-- Two most right honourable gentlemen-- Aiding the smooth-tongued orator: _Disease_ and _Famine_ have espoused our cause, And the said traitor Elliot is their oracle.
_Edward_.--Touching this man, we have advice from him, In which he speaketh much concerns the wants And murmurings of the citizens: he, too, Adds, they hold out expecting help from Douglas, And recommendeth that we should demand The other son of Seton as a hostage, In virtue of a truce for fourteen days: This is his snare. The sons once in his power, Their father yields, or both hang up before him.
_Percy_.--'Tis monstrous generous of our friendly Scot; And what return expects he for his service?
_Edward_.--On giving up the father's head--his place.
_Percy_.--I fear the lady will have his head first.
Did you but see her eyes!
I'd bet my coronet 'gainst our friar's cowl, Man wink not treason in his bedchamber But she detect it. Then her ears, again; 'Sdeath! she can hear the very sound of light As it does steal, i' the morning, through her curtains.
