Sir Hub. O Percy! that thou liv'st, and art return'd,
More joys my soul than all the mighty conquests
That sun beheld, which rose on Syria's ruin.
Per. I've told thee, good Sir Hubert, by what wonder
I was preserv'd, though number'd with the slain.
Sir Hub. 'Twas strange indeed!
Per. 'Twas Heav'n's immediate work!
But let me now indulge a dearer joy,
Talk of a richer gift of mercy's hand;
A gift so precious to my doting heart,
That life preserv'd is but a second blessing.
O Hubert, let my soul indulge its softness!
The hour, the spot, is sacred to Elwina.
This was her fav'rite walk; I well remember,
(For who forgets that loves as I have lov'd?)
'Twas in that very bower she gave this scarf,
Wrought by the hand of love; she bound it on,
And, smiling, cried, Whate'er befall us, Percy,
Be this the sacred pledge of faith between us.
I knelt, and swore, call'd every power to witness,
No time nor circumstance should force it from me!
But vow'd to lose my life and this together.
Here I repeat my vow.
Sir Hub. Is this the man
Beneath whose single arm an host was crush'd?
He at whose name the Saracen turn'd pale?
Who, when he fell, made conqu'ring armies weep,
And mourn a victory they had bought so dear?
How has he chang'd the trumpet's martial note,
And all the stirring clangor of the war,
For the soft melting of the lover's lute!
Why are thine eyes still bent upon the bower?
Per. O Hubert, Hubert! to a soul enamour'd
There is a sort of local sympathy,
Which, when we view the scenes of early passion,
Paints the bright image of the object lov'd,
In stronger colours than remoter scenes
Could ever paint it; realizes shadow;
Embodies vacancy; lends shape and being
To airy fantasy; substance to thought;
Fiction to truth; and breath and voice to words;
Dresses the object up in all its charms;
Talks to it nearer, frames its answers kinder,
And turns imagination into vision.
Sir Hub. I should not be believ'd in Percy's camp,
If I should tell them that their gallant leader,
The bold Northumberland, the British Mars,
Renouncing war, dissolv'd in amorous wishes,
Lofter'd in shades, and pin'd in rosy bowers,
To catch a transient glance of two bright eyes.
Per. Enough of conquest, and enough of war!
Ambition's cloy'd — the heart resumes its rights.
When England's king and England's good requir'd,
This arm not idly the keen falchion bore.
Enough — for vaunting misbecomes a soldier.
I live, I am return'd — am near Elwina!
Seest thou those turrets? Yes, that castle holds her.
But wherefore tell thee this? for thou hast seen her.
How look'd, what said she? Did she hear the tale
Of my imagin'd death without emotion?
Sir Hub. Percy, thou hast seen the musk-rose newly blown
Disclose its bashful beauties to the sun;
When, lo! a chilling storm at once descends,
Sweeps all its blushing glories to the dust,
Bows its fair head, and blasts its op'ning charms,
So droop'd the maid, beneath the cruel weight
Of my sad tale.
Per. So tender, and so true!
Sir Hub. I left her fainting in her father's arms,
The dying flower yet hanging on the tree.
E'en Raby melted at the news I brought,
And envied thee thy glory.
Per. Then I am blest!
His hate subdu'd, I've nothing more to fear.
Sir Hub. My embassy despatch'd, I left the castle
Nor spoke to any of Lord Raby's household,
For fear the king should chide the tardiness
Of my return. My joy to find you living
You have already heard.
Per. But where is Harcourt?
Ere this he should have seen her, told her all;
How I surviv'd, return'd — and how I love!
I tremble at the near approach of bliss,
And scarcely can sustain the joy which waits me.
Sir Hub. Grant Heaven the fair one prove but half so true!
Per. O she is truth itself!
Sir Hub. She may be chang'd,
Spite of her tears, her fainting, and alarms.
I know the sex, know them as nature made 'em,
Not such as lovers wish, and poets feign.
Per. Away! nor doubt a virtue so consummate.
And yet I tremble. Why does terror shake
These firm-strung nerves? But 'twill be ever thus
When Heav'n prepares us more than human bliss,
And gives us only human strength to bear it.
Sir Hub. What beam of brightness breaks through yonder gloom?
Per. Hubert — — she comes! By all my hopes, she comes!
'Tis she — the blissful vision is Elwina!
But ah! what mean these tears? For me she weeps!
O transport! — go. I'll listen unobserv'd, —
And for a moment taste, in silent joy,
The banquet of a tear which falls for love.

El. Shall I not weep? and have I then no cause?
If I could break th' eternal bands of death,
And wrench the sceptre from his iron grasp;
If I could bid the yawning sepulchre
Restore to life its long committed dust;
If I could teach the slaught'ring hand of war,
To give me back my dear, my murder'd Percy,
Then I indeed might once more cease to weep.

Per. Then cease, for Percy lives.
El. Protect me, Heav'n!
Per. O joy unspeakable! My life, my love!
End of my toils, and crown of all my cares!
Kind as consenting peace, as conquest bright,
Dearer than arms, and lovelier than renown!
El. It is his voice — it is, it is my Percy!
And dost thou live?
Per. I never liv'd till now.
El. And did my sighs, and did my sorrows reach thee?
And art thou come at last to dry my tears?
How didst thou 'scape the fury of the foe?
Per. Thy guardian genius hover'd o'er the field,
And turn'd the hostile spear from Percy's breast,
Lest thy fair image should be wounded there.
But Harcourt should have told thee all my fate,
How I surviv'd —
El. Alas! I have not seen him.
Oh! I have suffer'd much.
Per. Of that no more;
For every minute of our future lives
Shall be so bless'd, that we will learn to wonder
How we could ever think we were unhappy.
El. Percy — I cannot speak.
Per. Those tears how eloquent!
I would not change this motionless, mute joy,
For the sweet strains of angels: I look down
With pity on the rest of human kind,
However great may be their fame of happiness,
And think their niggard fate has giv'n them nothing,
Not giving thee; or granting some smell blessing,
Denies them my capacity to feel it.
El. Alas! what mean you?
Per. Can I speak my meaning?
'Tis of such magnitude, that words would wrong it;
But surely my Elwina's faithful bosom
Should beat in kind responses of delight,
And feel, but never question, what I mean.
El. Hold, hold, my heart, thou hast much more to suffer!
Per. Let the slow form and tedious ceremony
Wait on the splendid victims of ambition.
Love stays for none of these. Thy father's soften'd,
He will forget the fatal Cheviot chase:
Raby is brave, and I have serv'd my country;
I would not boast; it was for thee I conquer'd.
Then come, my love!
El. O never, never, never.
Per. Am I awake? Is that Elwina's voice?
El. Percy, thou most ador'd — and most deceiv'd!
If ever fortitude sustain'd thy soul,
When vulgar minds have sunk beneath the stroke,
Let thy imperial spirit now support thee. — —
If thou canst be so wondrous merciful;
Do not, O do not curse me! — but thou wilt,
Thou must — for I have done a fearful deed,
A deed of wild despair, a deed of horror:
I am, I am —
Per. Speak, say, what art thou?
El. Married.
Per. Oh!
El. Percy, I think I begg'd thee not to curse me!
But now I do revoke the fond petition.
Speak! ease thy bursting soul; reproach, upbraid,
O'erwhelm me with thy wrongs — I'll hear it all.
Per. Open, thou earth, and hide me from her sight!
Didst thou not bid me curse thee?
El. Mercy! mercy!
Per. And have I 'scap'd the Saracen's fell sword,
Only to perish by Elwina's guilt?
I would have bar'd my bosom to the foe;
I would have died, had I but known you wish'd it.
El. Percy, I lov'd thee most when most I wrong'd thee;
Yes, by these tears, I did.
Per. Married! just Heav'n!
To whom? yet wherefore should I know?
It cannot add fresh horrors to thy crime,
Or my destruction.
El. Oh! 'twill add to both.
How shall I tell? prepare for something dreadful.
Hast thou not heard of — Douglas?
Per. Why, 'tis well!
Thou Power Supreme! why waste thy wrath on me?
Why arm omnipotence to crush a worm?
I could have fallen without this waste of ruin.
Married to Dougins! By my wrongs, I like it;
'Tis perfidy complete, 'tis finish'd falsehood,
'Tis adding fresh perdition to the deed;
'Tis filling up the measure of offence,
Till it run o'er with misery!
El. Percy, oh!
It was my father's deed! he made his child
An instrument of vengeance on thy head.
He wept, and threaten'd, sooth'd me, and commanded.
Per. And you complied, most duteously complied!
El. I could withstand his fury; but his tears,
Ah, they undid me! Percy, dost thou know
The cruel tyranny of tenderness?
Hast thou e'er felt a father's warm embrace?
Hast thou e'er seen a father's flowing tears,
And known that thou couldst wipe those tears away?
If thou hast felt, and hast resisted these,
Then thou mayst curse my weakness; but if not,
Thou canst not pity, for thou canst not judge.
Per. Let me not hear the music of thy voice,
Or I shall love thee still: I shall forget
Thy fatal marriage, and my savage wrongs.
El. Dost thou not hate me, Percy?
Per. Hate thee? Yes,
As dying martyrs hate the righteous cause
Of the bless'd Power for whom they bleed. — I hate thee?

Har. Forgive, my lord, your faithful knight. —
Per. Come, Harcourt,
Come and behold the wretch who once was Percy.
Har. With grief I've learn'd the whole unhappy tale.
Earl Douglas, whose suspicion never sleeps —
Per. What, is the tyrant jealous?
El. Hear him, Percy.
Per. I will command my rage. Go on.
Har. Earl Douglas
Knew by my arms and my accoutrements,
That I belong'd to you; he question'd much,
And much he menaced me, but both alike
In vain; he then arrested and confin'd me.
Per. Arrest my knight? The Scot shall answer it.
El. How came you now releas'd?
Har. Your noble father
Obtain'd my freedom, having learn'd from Hubert
The news of Percy's death. The good old lord,
Hearing the king's return, has left the castle
To yield him homage. Sir, you had best retire;
Your safety is endanger'd by your stay.
I fear should Douglas know —
Per. Should Douglas know!
Why, what new magic 's in the name of Douglas,
That it should strike Northumberland with fear?
Go, seek the haughty Scot, and tell him — No —
Conduct me to his presence.
El. Percy, hold;
Think not 'tis Douglas — 'tis —
Per. I know it well —
Thou mean'st to tell me 'tis Elwina's husband;
Why, that inflames me to superior madness.
This happy husband, this triumphant Douglas,
Shall not insult my misery with his bliss.
I'd blast the golden promise of his joys.
Conduct me to him — may, I will have way —
Come, let us seek this husband.
El. Percy, hear me.
When I was robb'd of all my peace of mind,
My cruel fortune left me still one blessing,
One solitary blessing, to console me;
It was my fame. — 'Tis a rich jewel, Percy,
And I must keep it spotless and unsoil'd:
But thou wouldst plunder what e'en Douglas spared,
And rob this single gem of all its brightness.
Per. Go — thou wast born to rule the fate of Percy,
Thou art my conqueror still.
El. What noise is that?

Per. Why art thou thus alarmed?
El. Alas! I feel
The cowardice and terrors of the wicked,
Without their sense of guilt.
Har. My lord, 'tis Douglas.
El. Fly, Percy, and for ever!
Per. Fly from Douglas?
El. Then stay, barbarian, and at once destroy
My life and fame.
Per. That thought is death. I go.
My honour to thy dearer honour yields.
El. Yet, yet thou art not gone!
Per. Farewell, farewell!

El. I dare not meet the searching eye of Douglas.
I must conceal my terrors.

Doug. Give me way.
Ed. Thou shalt not enter.
Doug. If there were no hell,
It would defraud my vengeance of its edge,
And he should live.
Curs'd chance! he is not here.
El. I dare not meet his fury.
Doug. See, she flies
With ev'ry mark of guilt. Go, search the bow'r;

He shall not thus escape. Madam, return.
Now, honest Douglas, learn of her to feign.
Alone, Elwina? who just parted hence?

El. My lord, 'twas Harcourt; sure you must have met him.
Doug. O, exquisite dissembler! No one else?
El. My lord!
Doug. How I enjoy her criminal confusion!
You tremble, madam.
El. Wherefore should I tremble?
By your permission Harcourt was admitted;
'Twas no mysterious, secret introduction.
Doug. And yet you seem alarm'd. If Harcourt's presence
Thus agitates each nerve, makes every pulse
Thus wildly throb, and the warm tides of blood
Mount in quick rushing tumult to your cheek;
If friendship can excite such strong emotions,
What tremors had a lover's presence caus'd?
El. Ungenerous man!
Doug. I feast upon her terrors.
The story of his death was well contriv'd,
But it affects not me; I have a wife,
Compar'd with whom cold Dian was unchaste.
But, mark me well — though it concerns not you —
If there's a sin more deeply black than others,
Distinguish'd from the list of common crimes,
A legion in itself, and doubly dear
To the dark prince of hell, it is — hypocrisy
El. Yes, I will bear his fearful indignation!
Thou melting heart, be firm as adamant;
Ye shatter'd nerves, he strung with manly force,
That I may conquer all my sex's weakness,
And live as free from terror as from guilt.
Nor shall this bleeding bosom lodge one thought,
Cherish one wish, or harbour one desire
That angels may not hear, and Douglas know.