SCENE III.
A Field in the Country. — Labourers reposing.
The Master . Come, Mary Macintyre — give us a song,
Then to our work again. Thou hast a voice
So sweet, that even the Linnet on the broom
Might take a lesson from thee.
SONG .
A bird in Spring had built her nest
In a tuft o' flowers on a Castle-wa',
Whare saftly on her bonny breast
The dew and light o' heaven did fa'.
Amang the moss and silky hair
Twa young anes lay in love thegither —
And oh! their yellow plumes were fair
When glinting in the sunny weather.
Upon that Tower for many an hour
Anither bird would sit and sing,
Or resting on that red wa'-flow'r
In sleep would fauld his gowden wing.
Ae morning at the break o' day
I saw the nest a' pearl'd wi' dew,
That like a net of diamonds lay
Aboon that flower o' freshest hue.
I could na see the bonnie Bird,
She cower'd sae close upon her nest,
But that saft ither sang I heard
That lull'd her and her brood to rest.
Sweet through the silent dawning rung
The pleasure o'that lanely sang,
And the auld Tower again look'd young
That psalm sae sweetly sail'd alang.
Mair sweetly breath'd the birchen grove
That wav'd upon the Castle Hill,
And a' the earth look'd fresh wi' love
The moment that the sang was still!
At gloaming I came back that way,
But I miss'd the flower sae red and sweet,
And the nest whare thae twa birdies lay,
Wae's me! was herried at my feet.
I wud na weep for the dead wa'-flower,
Sweet birds! gin I kent where ye were gane,
But the low has blacken'd the auld Mearns-Tower,
And bluid is drapping frae ilka stane.
And he that herried the Lint-white's nest,
And kill'd the auld birds wi'his sling,
He wud na spare the chirping breast
Nor the down upon the wee bit wing.
Master . It is an old traditionary song.
The Maxwells in a body from Hag-Castle
At midnight came, and burn'd the good Mearns-Tower,
With young Laird Stewart and his English Lady,
And their four pretty bairns. They burn'd them all.
The Lady's blood is still upon the stones
Of the west-corner. Many a blashing storm
Hath driven across them, yet they still are red.
'Tis two o'clock, come to our work again!
Young Man . Oh! I am sick at heart! this very moment,
Is my poor Master standing on the scaffold!
Go, go to work — I will kneel down and pray
For his departing soul.
Master . His hour is come.
Men, women, children, now all rush to see him
In his white death-clothes standing like a ghost!
Ay, lasses, ye may weep — yet will that crowd
Show many a female face — girls like yourselves
In their best gowns adorn'd for holiday, —
And wives that love their husbands — and even mothers
With infants in their arms. Confound their cruelty!
Enough of death there is in this wide world
Near each man's fireside, or his neighbour's house!
Why rush to see him in the open day-light
Standing with fear, and shame, and agony?
Mary . Oh! on that sweet hill-side he often sat
Watching his young spring-lambs! and now even there
Is he about to die the death of shame!
Master . Methinks I see the hill-side all alive,
With silent faces gazing steadfastly
On one poor single solitary wretch,
Who views not in the darkness of his trouble
One human face among the many thousands
All staring towards the scaffold! some are there
Who have driven their carts with his unto the market,
Have shook hands with him meeting at the Fair,
Have in his very cottage been partakers
Of the homely fare which rev'rently he bless'd,
Yea! who have seen his face in holier places,
And in the same seat been at worship with him,
Within the House of God. May God forgive them!
Mary . He is not guilty.
Master . Everything is dark.
Last in the company of the murder'd man —
Blood on his hands — a bloody knife conceal'd —
The coin found on him which the widow swore to —
His fears when apprehended — and the falsehoods
Which first he utter'd — all perplex my mind!
And then they say the murder'd body bled
Soon as he touch'd it. — Let us to our work,
Poor people oft must work with heavy hearts.
— Oh! doth that sunshine smile as cheerfully
Upon Lea-side as o'er my happy fields!
1 st Man . I dare to look no longer. — What dost thou see
2 d Man . There is a stirring over all the crowd.
All heads are turn'd at once. O God of Heaven!
There Francis Russel comes upon a cart,
For which a lane is open'd suddenly!
On, on it goes — and now it has arrived
At the scaffold foot.
1 st Man . Say! dost thou see his face?
2 d Man ., Paler than ashes.
1 st Man , ( coming forward .) Let me have one look.
O what white cheeks! see, see — his upward eyes
Even at this distance have a ghastly glare.
I fear that he is guilty. Fear has bathed
In clammy dew his long lank raven hair.
His countenance seems convulsed — it is not paleness
That dims his cheeks — but a wild yellow hue
Like that of mortal sickness or of death.
Oh! what the soul can suffer, when the Devil
Sits on it, grimly laughing o'er his prey,
Like a carrion-bird beside some dying beast,
Croaking with hunger and ferocity!
2 d Man . He is standing on the scaffold — he looks round —
But does not speak — some one goes up to him —
He whispers in his ear — he kisses him —
He falls on his knees — now no one on the scaffold
But he and that old Wretch! a rope is hanging
Right over his head — and, as my Maker liveth,
That demon as he grasps it with his fingers
Hath laughter on his face!
1 st Man . How look the crowd?
2 d Man . I saw them not — but now ten thousand faces
Are looking towards him with wide-open eyes!
Uncover'd every head — and all is silent.
And motionless as if 'twere all a dream.
1 st Man . Is he still praying?
2 d Man . I can look no more,
For death and horror round his naked neck
Are gathering! Curse those lean and shrivell'd fingers
That calmly — slowly — and without a tremble —
Are binding unto agony and shame
One of God's creatures with a human soul!
— Hark! hark! a sudden shriek — a yell — a shout! —
The whole crowd tosses like a stormy sea.
But oh! behold how still and motionless
That figure on the scaffold!
1 st Man . What can it mean?
2 d Man . Perhaps with one soul all the crowd rise up
To rescue him from death.
1 st Man . Let us away
And know what happens. Hark! another shout
That rends the silent sky. See hats are waved!
And every face is bright — deliverance
Is in that peal of joy — he shall not die.
Sheriff . Bring the man up — and let us hear his story.
Soldier . I am the murderer.
One of the crowd . Here is Stephen's watch —
The watch of the murder'd man — and his very purse —
Both found upon the villain.
Sheriff . 'Tis strong proof.
— What have you got to say against this charge?
Soldier . I robb'd and murder'd him — that's all — 'tis true.
One of the crowd . Just as the prisoner rose up from his knees,
This soldier at my side took out his watch,
And with a cruel and unchristian oath
Proclaim'd the hour, in laughing mockery.
My eye by chance fell on it — and the truth
Burst on my soul. I leapt upon the wretch,
And with a horrid cry he made confession
That he was the guilty man.
Sheriff . Scarce credible.
Soldier . 'Tis true. Last night I saw the Evil-One
In human shape as I sat among my comrades:
He stood close to my side — invisible
To all but me — and with a fiery eye
He then commanded me to go this day
And see the execution. So I came!
— And now behold the open gates of hell!
Sheriff . The execution cannot thus proceed.
Soldier . A little while — but yet a little while —
And I will come into the roaring pit
To dwell for ever with the damn'd!
One of the crowd . Mad — mad.
Sheriff . Ay! 'tis the madness of despair and guilt,
Unhalter yon poor wretch — he must be carried
Back to his prison — till the truth appear.
Wife . Come down — come down — my husband! from the scaffold.
— O Christ! art thou alive — or dead with fear!
Let me leap up with one bound to his side,
And strain him to my bosom till our souls
Are mix'd like rushing waters.
Dost hear thy Alice? Come down from the scaffold,
And walk upon the green and flowery earth
With me, thy wife, in everlasting joy!
One of the crowd . See — see his little daughter! how she tears
The covering from his eyes — unbinds the halter —
Leaps up to his bosom — and with sobs is kissing
His pale fix'd face. " I am thy daughter — Father! "
But there he stands — as lifeless as a stone —
Nor sees — nor feels — nor hears — his soul seems gone
Upon a dismal travel!
Prisoner . Must this wild dream be all dream't o'er again!
Who put this little Child into my arms? My wife
Lying dead! — Thy judgments, Heaven! are terrible.
The Clergyman . Look up — this world is shining out once more
In welcome to thy soul recall'd from death.
Prisoner . Oh! might that be — but this is not a dream
From which I may awake. — What, what has happened?
Clergyman . The murderer is discovered.
Clergyman . Crowd not so round them — let the glad fresh air
Enter into their souls.
Prisoner . Alice! one word!
Let me hear thy voice assuring me of life.
Ah me! that soft cheek brings me by its touch
From the black, dizzy, roaring brink of death,
At once into the heart of happiness!
— Gasping with gratitude! she cannot speak.
Wife . I never shall smile more — but all my days
Walk with still footsteps, and with humble eyes,
An everlasting hymn within my soul
To the great God of Mercy!
Prisoner , ( starting up .) O thou bright angel with that golden hair,
Scattering thy smiles like sunshine through the light,
Art thou my own sweet Daughter! Come, my Child,
Come dancing on into thy Father's soul!
Come with those big tears sparkling on thy cheeks,
And let me drink them with a thousand kisses.
— That laugh hath fill'd the silent world with joy!
Child . This night I will sit upon your knees once more, —
And oh! if ever I offend my Father!. . . .
No — never — never! — All our Cottage stands
Just as you left it — the old oaken chair
Will be fill'd to-night, — and our sweet hearth will burn
As it used to do — upon my Father's face!
— I too will pray — for though a little Child,
God now will hear my prayers!
Prisoner , ( looking round .) The fields and hills
Have now return'd into their usual shape,
And all the sunny earth seems beautiful
As in my boyish days! — — Oh! tell me — tell me —
Did I disgrace myself by abject fear
On the way from prison to yon hideous place?
Clergyman . No — thou wert calm. . . . . .
Prisoner . My friend — O say not so.
For from the moment that I left the prison
Blind horror seized me — and I thought the earth
Was reddening round me from the bloody sky.
I recollect some faces in the cart
Glimmering! and something like a bridge we past
Over a deep glen fill'd with raging thunder!
Then all was hush'd — and rose the voice of psalms
Doleful and wild! when suddenly I stood
In the fixed gazing of a million eyes,
And the feeling of my own identity
Came like a flash of lightning through my heart.
Crowd . Huzza! huzza! the guiltless is set free!
Lea-side to-night, and all its happy fields,
Shall shine as bright as in the gladsome day.
For we will kindle on yon little green
A bonfire that shall set the heavens on flame,
And send up sparkling to the far-off stars
Beams like themselves — bright with deliverance.
Huzza! huzza! The guiltless is set free!
A Field in the Country. — Labourers reposing.
The Master . Come, Mary Macintyre — give us a song,
Then to our work again. Thou hast a voice
So sweet, that even the Linnet on the broom
Might take a lesson from thee.
SONG .
A bird in Spring had built her nest
In a tuft o' flowers on a Castle-wa',
Whare saftly on her bonny breast
The dew and light o' heaven did fa'.
Amang the moss and silky hair
Twa young anes lay in love thegither —
And oh! their yellow plumes were fair
When glinting in the sunny weather.
Upon that Tower for many an hour
Anither bird would sit and sing,
Or resting on that red wa'-flow'r
In sleep would fauld his gowden wing.
Ae morning at the break o' day
I saw the nest a' pearl'd wi' dew,
That like a net of diamonds lay
Aboon that flower o' freshest hue.
I could na see the bonnie Bird,
She cower'd sae close upon her nest,
But that saft ither sang I heard
That lull'd her and her brood to rest.
Sweet through the silent dawning rung
The pleasure o'that lanely sang,
And the auld Tower again look'd young
That psalm sae sweetly sail'd alang.
Mair sweetly breath'd the birchen grove
That wav'd upon the Castle Hill,
And a' the earth look'd fresh wi' love
The moment that the sang was still!
At gloaming I came back that way,
But I miss'd the flower sae red and sweet,
And the nest whare thae twa birdies lay,
Wae's me! was herried at my feet.
I wud na weep for the dead wa'-flower,
Sweet birds! gin I kent where ye were gane,
But the low has blacken'd the auld Mearns-Tower,
And bluid is drapping frae ilka stane.
And he that herried the Lint-white's nest,
And kill'd the auld birds wi'his sling,
He wud na spare the chirping breast
Nor the down upon the wee bit wing.
Master . It is an old traditionary song.
The Maxwells in a body from Hag-Castle
At midnight came, and burn'd the good Mearns-Tower,
With young Laird Stewart and his English Lady,
And their four pretty bairns. They burn'd them all.
The Lady's blood is still upon the stones
Of the west-corner. Many a blashing storm
Hath driven across them, yet they still are red.
'Tis two o'clock, come to our work again!
Young Man . Oh! I am sick at heart! this very moment,
Is my poor Master standing on the scaffold!
Go, go to work — I will kneel down and pray
For his departing soul.
Master . His hour is come.
Men, women, children, now all rush to see him
In his white death-clothes standing like a ghost!
Ay, lasses, ye may weep — yet will that crowd
Show many a female face — girls like yourselves
In their best gowns adorn'd for holiday, —
And wives that love their husbands — and even mothers
With infants in their arms. Confound their cruelty!
Enough of death there is in this wide world
Near each man's fireside, or his neighbour's house!
Why rush to see him in the open day-light
Standing with fear, and shame, and agony?
Mary . Oh! on that sweet hill-side he often sat
Watching his young spring-lambs! and now even there
Is he about to die the death of shame!
Master . Methinks I see the hill-side all alive,
With silent faces gazing steadfastly
On one poor single solitary wretch,
Who views not in the darkness of his trouble
One human face among the many thousands
All staring towards the scaffold! some are there
Who have driven their carts with his unto the market,
Have shook hands with him meeting at the Fair,
Have in his very cottage been partakers
Of the homely fare which rev'rently he bless'd,
Yea! who have seen his face in holier places,
And in the same seat been at worship with him,
Within the House of God. May God forgive them!
Mary . He is not guilty.
Master . Everything is dark.
Last in the company of the murder'd man —
Blood on his hands — a bloody knife conceal'd —
The coin found on him which the widow swore to —
His fears when apprehended — and the falsehoods
Which first he utter'd — all perplex my mind!
And then they say the murder'd body bled
Soon as he touch'd it. — Let us to our work,
Poor people oft must work with heavy hearts.
— Oh! doth that sunshine smile as cheerfully
Upon Lea-side as o'er my happy fields!
1 st Man . I dare to look no longer. — What dost thou see
2 d Man . There is a stirring over all the crowd.
All heads are turn'd at once. O God of Heaven!
There Francis Russel comes upon a cart,
For which a lane is open'd suddenly!
On, on it goes — and now it has arrived
At the scaffold foot.
1 st Man . Say! dost thou see his face?
2 d Man ., Paler than ashes.
1 st Man , ( coming forward .) Let me have one look.
O what white cheeks! see, see — his upward eyes
Even at this distance have a ghastly glare.
I fear that he is guilty. Fear has bathed
In clammy dew his long lank raven hair.
His countenance seems convulsed — it is not paleness
That dims his cheeks — but a wild yellow hue
Like that of mortal sickness or of death.
Oh! what the soul can suffer, when the Devil
Sits on it, grimly laughing o'er his prey,
Like a carrion-bird beside some dying beast,
Croaking with hunger and ferocity!
2 d Man . He is standing on the scaffold — he looks round —
But does not speak — some one goes up to him —
He whispers in his ear — he kisses him —
He falls on his knees — now no one on the scaffold
But he and that old Wretch! a rope is hanging
Right over his head — and, as my Maker liveth,
That demon as he grasps it with his fingers
Hath laughter on his face!
1 st Man . How look the crowd?
2 d Man . I saw them not — but now ten thousand faces
Are looking towards him with wide-open eyes!
Uncover'd every head — and all is silent.
And motionless as if 'twere all a dream.
1 st Man . Is he still praying?
2 d Man . I can look no more,
For death and horror round his naked neck
Are gathering! Curse those lean and shrivell'd fingers
That calmly — slowly — and without a tremble —
Are binding unto agony and shame
One of God's creatures with a human soul!
— Hark! hark! a sudden shriek — a yell — a shout! —
The whole crowd tosses like a stormy sea.
But oh! behold how still and motionless
That figure on the scaffold!
1 st Man . What can it mean?
2 d Man . Perhaps with one soul all the crowd rise up
To rescue him from death.
1 st Man . Let us away
And know what happens. Hark! another shout
That rends the silent sky. See hats are waved!
And every face is bright — deliverance
Is in that peal of joy — he shall not die.
Sheriff . Bring the man up — and let us hear his story.
Soldier . I am the murderer.
One of the crowd . Here is Stephen's watch —
The watch of the murder'd man — and his very purse —
Both found upon the villain.
Sheriff . 'Tis strong proof.
— What have you got to say against this charge?
Soldier . I robb'd and murder'd him — that's all — 'tis true.
One of the crowd . Just as the prisoner rose up from his knees,
This soldier at my side took out his watch,
And with a cruel and unchristian oath
Proclaim'd the hour, in laughing mockery.
My eye by chance fell on it — and the truth
Burst on my soul. I leapt upon the wretch,
And with a horrid cry he made confession
That he was the guilty man.
Sheriff . Scarce credible.
Soldier . 'Tis true. Last night I saw the Evil-One
In human shape as I sat among my comrades:
He stood close to my side — invisible
To all but me — and with a fiery eye
He then commanded me to go this day
And see the execution. So I came!
— And now behold the open gates of hell!
Sheriff . The execution cannot thus proceed.
Soldier . A little while — but yet a little while —
And I will come into the roaring pit
To dwell for ever with the damn'd!
One of the crowd . Mad — mad.
Sheriff . Ay! 'tis the madness of despair and guilt,
Unhalter yon poor wretch — he must be carried
Back to his prison — till the truth appear.
Wife . Come down — come down — my husband! from the scaffold.
— O Christ! art thou alive — or dead with fear!
Let me leap up with one bound to his side,
And strain him to my bosom till our souls
Are mix'd like rushing waters.
Dost hear thy Alice? Come down from the scaffold,
And walk upon the green and flowery earth
With me, thy wife, in everlasting joy!
One of the crowd . See — see his little daughter! how she tears
The covering from his eyes — unbinds the halter —
Leaps up to his bosom — and with sobs is kissing
His pale fix'd face. " I am thy daughter — Father! "
But there he stands — as lifeless as a stone —
Nor sees — nor feels — nor hears — his soul seems gone
Upon a dismal travel!
Prisoner . Must this wild dream be all dream't o'er again!
Who put this little Child into my arms? My wife
Lying dead! — Thy judgments, Heaven! are terrible.
The Clergyman . Look up — this world is shining out once more
In welcome to thy soul recall'd from death.
Prisoner . Oh! might that be — but this is not a dream
From which I may awake. — What, what has happened?
Clergyman . The murderer is discovered.
Clergyman . Crowd not so round them — let the glad fresh air
Enter into their souls.
Prisoner . Alice! one word!
Let me hear thy voice assuring me of life.
Ah me! that soft cheek brings me by its touch
From the black, dizzy, roaring brink of death,
At once into the heart of happiness!
— Gasping with gratitude! she cannot speak.
Wife . I never shall smile more — but all my days
Walk with still footsteps, and with humble eyes,
An everlasting hymn within my soul
To the great God of Mercy!
Prisoner , ( starting up .) O thou bright angel with that golden hair,
Scattering thy smiles like sunshine through the light,
Art thou my own sweet Daughter! Come, my Child,
Come dancing on into thy Father's soul!
Come with those big tears sparkling on thy cheeks,
And let me drink them with a thousand kisses.
— That laugh hath fill'd the silent world with joy!
Child . This night I will sit upon your knees once more, —
And oh! if ever I offend my Father!. . . .
No — never — never! — All our Cottage stands
Just as you left it — the old oaken chair
Will be fill'd to-night, — and our sweet hearth will burn
As it used to do — upon my Father's face!
— I too will pray — for though a little Child,
God now will hear my prayers!
Prisoner , ( looking round .) The fields and hills
Have now return'd into their usual shape,
And all the sunny earth seems beautiful
As in my boyish days! — — Oh! tell me — tell me —
Did I disgrace myself by abject fear
On the way from prison to yon hideous place?
Clergyman . No — thou wert calm. . . . . .
Prisoner . My friend — O say not so.
For from the moment that I left the prison
Blind horror seized me — and I thought the earth
Was reddening round me from the bloody sky.
I recollect some faces in the cart
Glimmering! and something like a bridge we past
Over a deep glen fill'd with raging thunder!
Then all was hush'd — and rose the voice of psalms
Doleful and wild! when suddenly I stood
In the fixed gazing of a million eyes,
And the feeling of my own identity
Came like a flash of lightning through my heart.
Crowd . Huzza! huzza! the guiltless is set free!
Lea-side to-night, and all its happy fields,
Shall shine as bright as in the gladsome day.
For we will kindle on yon little green
A bonfire that shall set the heavens on flame,
And send up sparkling to the far-off stars
Beams like themselves — bright with deliverance.
Huzza! huzza! The guiltless is set free!
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