Part 2 / Act 2 — SCENE II.
Reading edition
A Room in the Governor’s House.
SETON (solus.)
This fearful conflict, with paternal love
And duty to my country, is most dreadful;
Sure my poor heart will break, or burst the steel
134That laces it. I’ve somewhere read of men
Who died for friendship; of a judge who pass’d
Sentence on his own son; but I have ne’er
Heard of that man who sacrificed his child
To save his country. It is horrible!
Bury me, earth; for what were fame, promotion,
To live the murderer—is there in our language
A term so unnatural—live the murderer
Of one’s own child! Good Heaven! I’d better live
A life of wo, an outcast from society,
Than be the death of one so young and gentle,
Who holds a charter, drawn on me by nature,
Of preservation. Ha! I see even now
My boy down on his knees, begging his life!
Asking his father not to shed his blood.
I am a monster, that with sad delay
Pass sentence on my son. These eyes behold
His tongue choked up and palsied with the halter;
That tongue—whose parting accents blest its father!
Here comes a sorry comforter, poor lady!
She walks like Melancholy; and I dread
The sternness of her dull perturbed look.
Enter Lady Seton.
Hail, gentle Christian! I am sick at heart;
The want of sleep, and fearful dreams, have thrown
A languor o’er my spirits.
135LADY SETON.
What news from Tweedmouth?
Does the royal tyrant, with his gilded banners
That mock the sun, intend to blast our sight,
Till Scottish mists do rot his silk pavilions,
Or Scottish earth receive his rotten heart?
SETON.
I fear thy first surmise resolves to truth,
Unless kind Heaven doth send us speedy aid;
He is no idle, no inglorious foe
Goaded by youth, ambition, rival factions;
And like his father, whom that faction duped,
Too lofty-minded for his subjects’ weal.
Had not rich France, the lion lured aside,
He’d mounced us long ere now. Alas! alas!
I can unfold no more.
LADY SETON.
Alas! I know
What ye would say. Heaven’s sovereign will be done!
But oft when storms look darkest on the Cheviot
A wandering sunbeam cheers the face of nature.
The event lies hid in dark futurity;
Whate’er the issue, Seton will not violate
His country’s trust—its safety—and his honour!
Though every pledge of mine were naked laid
136Before the sabre’s edge! our weakness ne’er
Shall shade the rising glories of the war.
SETON.
O woman! to such fate canst thou abandon
The fruit of thine own womb,—that fed upon
The juices of your breast,—whose little eyes
Beam’d pleasure when they first beheld thy face!
Can ye abandon him whose latest accents
Lisp’d a farewell with tears, and blest his mother
For her maternal love; and can ye now
Forget the dearest part of woman’s nature?
Speak but the word: I render up the town.
LADY SETON.
Nay, talk not thus; let Heaven’s will be done,
Since we must suffer ill that good may follow.
God gave us children, and the Lord shall take
His own in his good time. The blessed book
Tells me of many saints in ancient times,
(When faith was nurtured on a richer soil
Than in these latter days,) who gave themselves
A sacrifice to God; and next to God’s
Our native land. “Did not the prophet Daniel
“Banquet with lions, and escaped unhurt
“From out their hungry maws, while the poor heathen
“Lay mangled round? And did not Machobee,
“With her seven sons, rather than break the laws
137“By eating swine’s flesh, suffer dreadful torment?
“And did not the three children glad prefer
“The seven times heated furnace rather than bow
“The knee to idol-worship? and shall we
“Grudge God a sacrifice? forbid it, Heaven!”[6]
Remember Abram; I will not offend
Your ears with samples ta’en from writs profane;
But, see! come forth unto the battlements,
And view a scene will rouse your drooping spirits,
St Cuthbert! joy, their navy is in flames. [Exeunt.