A 
 

 
 EDW? JERNINGHAM, ESQ* 
 From an Original Picture.
 
 THE 
 
 SIEGE OF BERWICK, 
 
 A TRAGEDY, 
 BY MR. JERNINGHAM: 
 
 AS PERFORMED AT THE 
 
 Cljeatre = Hopal, Cofcent = 
 
 IN 1794. 
 
 EDITED BY H. E. H. JERNINGHAM, M.P. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 M.DCC.XC1V. M.DCCC.LXXXII.
 
 WILLIAM RIDGWAY, 169 PICCADILLY.
 
 TO 
 
 ADAM DARLING, ESQ., 
 
 Mayor of Berwick-on-Tweed. 
 
 Mr. MAYOR, 
 
 With your permission, and in grateful 
 remembrance of recent conflicts happily less stirring than 
 those more distant events to which the present work 
 relates, I beg, through you, to dedicate to the citizens of 
 our historical Border town the reprint of a tragedy entitled 
 the " Siege of Berwick," which was written and published 
 in 1794 by a direct ancestor of mine. 
 
 Mr. Jerningham's works were issued in a complete form 
 in the year 1806, but out of the four volumes which con- 
 stituted the collection of his poems and dramas I have 
 never been able to obtain more than the two first; and I 
 owe to the kindness of a friend the possession of the copy 
 of the " Siege of Berwick," of the reprint of which I am 
 now asking your acceptance. 
 
 Mr. Edward Jerningham, known as the Poet Jerning- 
 ham and still better as the personal friend of the literary 
 Lords Chesterfield and Carlisle, was born in 1727 and 
 died in 1812. 
 
 A scholar and a linguist of considerable repute, he lived 
 on intimate, terms with all the most distinguished literary 
 men of his time both in England and on the Continent. 
 
 2064545
 
 viii DEDICATORY. 
 
 While his poetical merits gained for him the encomium 
 of Burke, his amiability of character saved him from the 
 satirical shafts of Byron. Speaking of his poem, " The 
 Shakespeare Gallery," Burke declared " he had not seen 
 anything so well finished." 
 
 Hearing that Mr. Jerningham had joined Lord Carlisle 
 in the cabal against him, Lord Byron not only spared him 
 in his " English Bards and Scotch Reviewers," but declared 
 in a footnote that he "hoped" the rumour that had 
 reached him was " not " true, as " he was one of the few 
 who were kind to me when a boy, so pour on, I shall 
 endure." 
 
 Mr. Jerningham's poetical vein was of a very unequal 
 temper, however, and it must be allowed that much that 
 he has written deserves the stricture of Lord Macaulay, 
 who, alluding to a Lady Millar at Bath " who kept a vase 
 wherein poets were wont to put bad verses," immediately 
 mentions Mr. Jerningham as writing " verses fit to be put 
 into the vase of Lady Millar." 
 
 Be this as it may, however, the accompanying drama is 
 not wanting in merit. 
 
 The only disappointing feature of it is that, while the 
 author often rises to considerable force and energy of both 
 sentiment and expression, these desirable qualities are not 
 sufficiently sustained, and interest suddenly flags when it 
 should be most kept up. It would seem as if the author's 
 poetical bark never was favoured with sufficient breeze to 
 keep its sails well filled, or as if the steersman was defec- 
 tive. 
 
 Historically, too, the account is incorrect. Mr. Jerning- 
 ham disdains time with the daring which is the privilege
 
 DEDICATORY. ix 
 
 of poets, just as George Warrington disdained place in his 
 tragedy of " Pocahontas." 
 
 We may not perhaps attach much importance as to 
 which of Sir Alexander Seton, or his "gude ladie," was 
 most anxious to sacrifice the lives of their children to duty 
 and their country's honour; we may be wholly indifferent 
 as to whether Sir Alexander had one or two sons, and that 
 either or both were hung; we may even go the length of 
 not caring whether these sons came into the power of the 
 enemy by being made prisoners of war, or handed to him 
 as hostages, or delivered into his hands by their desire to 
 become willing victims of the tyrant's thirst for blood ; we 
 can leave all that to the poet's fancy, but we don't like to 
 hear young Seton talk of emulating the Black Prince's 
 prowess at the battle of Crecy when we know that that 
 battle was fought thirteen years after the siege of Berwick, 
 viz., in 1346. 
 
 But, having noticed this inaccuracy, I think the fact 
 that a namesake of mine a hundred years back took for his 
 text one of the most dramatic episodes of our Border history, 
 and wove it into a drama which was played at Drury Lane 
 by such known actors as the two Popes, is sufficient justi- 
 fication for my republishing his work for the benefit of the 
 townspeople of Berwick, who, during your mayoralty, sir, 
 have allowed me to lay siege to their civic rights and place 
 myself under their obligation. 
 
 I remain, 
 
 Your faithful and obedient Servant, 
 
 HUBERT E. H. JERNINGHAM. 
 
 I
 
 * 
 
 INTRODUCTORY NOTICE. 
 
 ON the lath of April 1333 King Edward III. appeared 
 before Berwick, and began its siege by a strict blockade. 
 On the 1 9th of July the " batel of Berwick " or battle of 
 Halidon Hill was fought. 
 
 " Seven earls, 900 knights, 400 esquires, and 32,000 
 men died in the field " before Berwick passed into English 
 hands. 
 
 Sir William Keith was governor of the town, and 
 Patrick Earl of D unbar commanded the citadel. 
 
 The English were encamped at Tweedmouth and Spittal, 
 but finding the siege a slow operation unsuited to his 
 restless disposition, King Edward crossed the Tweed and 
 ravaged all the country which lies between Scone, Dundee, 
 and Dunbarton, returning to his camp before Berwick 
 early in July. 
 
 In the meanwhile, Lord Douglas, brother of Sir William, 
 and Regent during the minority of David Bruce's son, 
 had raised a powerful army for the purpose of relieving 
 Berwick, but hearing of Edward's depredations in Scotland, 
 he changed his original purpose, and crossed the Tweed 
 into Northumberland, ravaging the coast until he reached 
 the impregnable fortress of Bamborough, where Queen 
 Philippa was waiting the return of her lord. 
 
 Douglas invested the place in the hope that King
 
 xii INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 Edward would raise the siege of Berwick and fly to the 
 rescue of his Queen, but knowing the strength of Barn- 
 borough, the English sovereign was not to be enticed 
 away from his purpose, and the Scotch thus lost invaluable 
 time without gaining any corresponding advantage. 
 
 At last the garrison and people of Berwick, being hard 
 pressed for food and finding that nobody came to their 
 rescue, agreed to capitulate on certain conditions. 
 
 On the I5th of July Sir William Keith, on behalf of 
 the town, and on the i6th of July the Earl of Dunbar, 
 on behalf of the garrison, signed a convention with D'Arcy, 
 the English general, the conditions of which were : 
 
 1. That the town and castle should be surrendered on 
 
 the 2 1st of July, if not relieved in the meanwhile 
 with two hundred men-at-arms or by a battle. 
 
 2. That a cessation of arms should take place in the 
 
 interval. 
 
 3. That in the event of a surrender, the properties of 
 
 the inhabitants and garrison should be protected. 
 And 
 
 4. That the governor should have a safe-conduct 
 
 granted to the Scotch army to communicate the 
 articles of the convention. 
 
 Hostages were given by the Scotch, and though, of 
 course, there may have been more, still only three names 
 have reached us Edward de Letham, John de Fins, and 
 John de Hoom. 
 
 The former has been handed down to posterity as one 
 of the knights who deposed in the famous suit begun in 
 1386 by Sir Robert le Grosvenor with Sir Richard le 
 Scrope, about the right of wearing a coat of arms, viz.,
 
 INTRODUCTORY. xiii 
 
 azure, one bend or, and which in 1389 was decided in 
 favour of the Scrope family, who bear it to this day, and 
 whose representative is now Mr. Scrope of Danby in 
 Yorkshire. 
 
 John de Hoom is one of the ancestors of the present 
 Earl of Home. 
 
 As soon as the preliminary capitulation had been 
 signed, Sir William Keith appointed Sir Alexander 
 Seton* Deputy-Governor of Berwick, and departed for 
 the Scotch army before Bamborough to lay the conditions 
 before the Regent Douglas. 
 
 That these conditions did not meet with Lord Douglas' 
 approval is evident by the fact that orders must have 
 been issued at once for the army to raise the siege of 
 Bamborough, and to march back to Berwick, there to give 
 battle to Edward's forces, since we hear of its crossing the 
 Tweed below Norham on the i8th, and taking up its 
 position at Dunse on the same day. 
 
 Historians on the Scotch side have endeavoured to 
 -saddle Edward III. with unwonted cruelty, and English 
 historians have tried to excuse the king on the ground of 
 the " perfidy " of the Scotch deputy-governor in refusing 
 to surrender Berwick according to the convention. 
 
 These mutual endeavours only confirm the fact that 
 there must have been some act of cruelty performed, 
 and that this act was performed between the departure of 
 Sir William Keith and the battle of the I9th. 
 
 * This is the same Sir Alexander who with Sir Niel Campbel and Sir 
 Gilbert Hay had bound themselves in the most solemn manner at the 
 Abbey of Cambuskenneth on the gth September 1308, "to defend till the 
 last period of their lives the liberties of their country and right of Robert 
 Bruce, their king, against all mortals, French, English, and Scots." 
 Cottius' Peerage, vol. vii., p. 419.
 
 xiv INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 If it be borne in mind that the surrender was only to 
 take place on the aist, it is plain that Sir Alexander 
 Seton was not guilty of perfidy, as the historian Tyrell 
 wishes to make out, in refusing to give up the town before 
 the appointed time; but it is more than probable that 
 Edward III., hearing that the Scotch army were march- 
 ing in his rear, used a threat for the purpose of securing 
 Berwick before Lord Douglas should arrive. 
 
 That he was determined to hold the position which it 
 commands, if he could not become master of the place, is 
 evident in the fact that he raised his camp at Tweedmouth, 
 crossed the river and took up his position on Halidon Hill, 
 thus cutting off any communication which the besieged 
 might have entertained with the Scotch side. 
 
 The " perfidy/' therefore, if there was any, consisted in 
 the English endeavouring to break the terms of the con- 
 vention they had themselves signed, for strategical reasons, 
 fearing to meet the Scotch army which was coming up in 
 their rear ; but to make the threat of any use it had to go 
 home to him who alone was in command, and thus it is 
 that the legend of the two sons of Sir Alexander Seton 
 being hanged in view of their parents and friends in the 
 city and citadel has received much credence, though there 
 is no tangible evidence that they were the actual victims 
 of King Edward's threat. 
 
 " Hang a dyke nook " at Tweedmouth, opposite the 
 Pool, still commemorates the spot where Edward's victims 
 were hung, but that two sons of Sir Alexander Seton were 
 put to death together must be altogether doubted, although 
 it is possible that one of them may have been in the num- 
 ber of the hanged. 
 
 Sir Alexander had two sons, of whom Alexander the
 
 INTRODUCTORY. xv 
 
 eldest was killed by leaping from one ship to another in a 
 gallant attempt to set fire to one of the hostile vessels at 
 the mouth of the river, and Thomas, the second and legiti- 
 mate son of Sir Alexander, remains as the only possible 
 hero of the tradition. 
 
 Ballads and plays have been written upon this tradition 
 of Seton's sons being sacrificed by their parents rather 
 than they should fail in their duty, but they have been 
 confined to local bards and writers. 
 
 I am not aware that the episode has engaged the atten- 
 tion of any writer in the south except the author of the 
 present drama, and therefore with all its faults, its in- 
 accuracies and improbabilities, I hope it may prove an 
 acceptable addition to the literature of the Border. 
 
 HUBERT E. H. JERNINGHAM. 
 
 LONGRIDGE TOWERS, BERWICK-ON-TWEED, 
 Christmas 1881.
 
 THE SIEGE OF BERWICK. 
 
 A
 
 TO 
 
 MRS. P O P E. 
 
 MADAM, 
 
 1 HIS Tragedy is fo much 
 indebted to You, that it natu- 
 rally fhelters itfelf under Your name, 
 even when it is prefented to the 
 Reader. Accuftomed as the Public 
 is to your fuperior talents, the 
 judges of adting felt themfelves 
 impreffed upon this occafion with 
 a difplay of new and unacquainted 
 excellencies. 
 
 A 2 While
 
 DEDICATION. 
 
 While I am paying this juft ho- 
 mage to you, I beg to exprefs my 
 fenfe of obligation to the Gentlemen 
 who performed in this Play. 
 
 I am, 
 
 With the Sentiments of the 
 
 higheft Efteem, 
 Your obedient humble Servant, 
 
 EDWARD JERNINGHAM.
 
 ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 IN the Reign of EDWARD the Third, Sir 
 Alexander Seaton refufed to furrender the 
 town of BERWICK, even at the Peril of 
 lofing his two Sons ; who being taken pri- 
 foners in a fally, were threatened with imme- 
 diate death, unlefs the town was delivered up. 
 
 See Abercromby's Martial Atchieve- 
 raents, vol. ii. p. 29.
 
 c*A^c^c*^*X-i^^^A*A3^ 
 
 PROLOGUE. 
 
 WRITTEN BY THE AUTHOR; 
 
 And Spoken by MR. HARLEY. 
 
 T/f/ r HILE fears and hopes alternate thoughts fuggejl , 
 
 And now diftiirb, now foothe the Author s breajl ; 
 While expectation breathes an awful paufe, 
 Ere yet the ready hand the curtain draws, 
 Ere yet the action glows I come afpy, 
 To cqft around a reconnoitring eye. 
 Yet then, as I this fearful Pit explore, 
 Where Authors fometimes fall to rife no more, 
 Here when th Adventurer dares you to the field, 
 If his fond efforts fome fmall merit yield, 
 r ve feen your gen rous arm forbear the blow, 
 And raife to life and fame the grateful foe. 
 
 For you, the boijfrous inmates of the fky ! 
 Bold is the man who dares your pow'r defy ; 
 With you confujion her loud compact forms, 
 You ride the clouds, and are yourf elves the florms. 
 Yet have I feen you mitigate your rage, 
 Andfpare the Adventurer flruggling on the Stage ; 
 
 4 //
 
 If in fome fcenes (the reft t ho' feebly done) 
 Unerring Nature owrid her genuine Son, 
 Your glowing foul has grafpd the Author's caufe, 
 And hurl'd around the thunder of applaufe. 
 
 For you, ye glittering Amazonian train, 
 Whofe power is dreaded on the critic plain ! 
 Tho marjhald to the war by tafte fever e, 
 Yet meek indulgence follows in the rear: 
 And oft on beauty's cheek I've lov'd to trace, 
 Softftealing down, the holy tear of grace. 
 
 Rais'd by the thoughts thefe foothing hopes create, 
 I'll bid the Bard come forth, and meet his fate, 
 The tyrant Terror from his breaft erafe, 
 Rujh on thefcene, and combat for your praife.
 
 CHARACTERS. 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER SEATON, Mr. POPE. 
 
 ARCHIBALD \ (Mr. MIDDLETON. 
 
 > his Sons, < 
 VALENTINE J (Mr. HOLMAN. 
 
 ANSELM, a Monk, Mr. HARLEY. 
 
 DONALDSON, an Officer, Mr. M ACRE AD Y. 
 
 ETHELBERTA, Wife of 
 Sir ALEXANDER, 
 
 JULIANA, 
 HERALD, &c. 
 
 Mrs. POPE. 
 Mrs. FA WCETT. 
 
 THE
 
 THE 
 
 SIEGE OF BERWICK. 
 
 ACT THE FIRST. 
 
 Sir ALEXANDER, ARCHIBALD, VALENTINE. 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER. 
 
 T T is not a6lion only that adorns 
 
 * The foldier's character, it is patience, 
 
 Calm and induring in the rugged hour 
 
 Of want, that forms the nobler part of duty : 
 
 You, my lov'd fons, and all your fellow-fufferers, 
 
 Have well that rigorous iron tafk perform'd. 
 
 But now a fmoother train of hours advances ; 
 
 The truce, which at to-morrow's dawn takes place, 
 
 Will enable me from Out the northern gate 
 
 To difmifs the women, the aged and the infirm, 
 
 Then difencumber'd of its ufelefs numbers 
 
 B This
 
 2 THE SIEGE 
 
 This foe-encircled town {hall raife its head ; 
 The hand of fcarcenefs fhall no more difpenfe 
 Her meagre morfel to th' exhaufted foldier, 
 But cheering competency fhall provide 
 The meal. 
 
 ARCHIBALD. 
 
 'Tis well ! yet then inform me, Sir, 
 How you'll employ th' invaluable hours 
 That ftill precede the truce ? 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER. 
 
 Our gallant men 
 Have been feverely tried, and worn with toil. 
 
 ARCHIBALD. 
 
 Their toil-enfeebled bodies ftill enclofe 
 The mounting fpirit of unwearied vigor. 
 
 VALENTINE. 
 Prompt as the hawk to dart upon his prey. 
 
 ARCHIBALD. 
 
 The foe fmce yefterday appears to have loft 
 Half of his wonted intrepidity. 
 
 VALENTINE. 
 
 That fhow'r of arrows we pour'd down at eve 
 Hath fomewhat quench'd their ardor ! 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER. 
 
 Be it fo ; 
 But tell me what is now your prefent purpofe : 
 
 Methinks
 
 OF BERWICK. 3 
 
 Methinks that fwelling to fome bold defign 
 Your bofom labours. Speak, my Valentine. 
 
 VALENTINE. 
 Command my elder brother, Sir, to fpeak. 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER. 
 
 Unfold then, Archibald, this myfterious fomething, 
 This painful fecret that difturbs you both. 
 
 ARCHIBALD. 
 
 Laft night, as we reclin'd upon our couch, 
 
 Still talking o'er (as is our wonted manner) 
 
 The various hazard of the bufy day, 
 
 We wifhed, we fondly wifhed, that ere the truce 
 
 Should intervene, fome daring enterprize 
 
 Might be attempted under our direction : 
 
 Thus we conversed in facred confidence 
 
 Till as our weak'ning voices died away 
 
 We wearied into reft 'twas then an image 
 
 VALENTINE. 
 
 Mark, Sir, what now my brother will unfold. 
 
 ARCHIBALD. 
 
 'Twas then an image rufh'd upon my fight, 
 
 It fhew'd as one of the angelic train, 
 
 A circling glory glitter'd o'er his head, 
 
 A fmile benignant beautified his lip, 
 
 And thus he fpoke ' Sons of the valiant Seaton, 
 
 A rife and haften to the fouthern gate, 
 
 B 2 Thence
 
 4 THE SIEGE 
 
 Thence dart upon the foe.' The vifion ceas'd 
 And vanifh'd into air ! while a rude noife 
 Like the fierce ftruggle of contending fpears 
 Suddenly waked us ! Starting from my couch, 
 And ere I cou'd communicate my dream, 
 Valentine with impatient voice difclos'd 
 The mutual vifion. 
 
 VALENTINE. 
 
 'Twas as he relates; 
 By honor's winnow'd purity I fwear 
 The nightly vifitation alfo came 
 To me. 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER. 
 
 I hazard no impeachment of 
 Your truth ; yet then, endearing children, tell me 
 How can a prudent tender parent fend 
 His valiant fons to danger's precipice 
 At the fantaftic impulfe of a dream ? 
 
 ARCHIBALD. 
 
 In the old time we read that dreams have often 
 Been the prophetic leaders to fuccefs. 
 
 VALENTINE. 
 
 Oh do not, Sir, with caution's chill reftraint 
 O'erfhade the fplendid purpofe of our foul. 
 
 ARCHIBALD. 
 
 Let the bright vifion be forgot, , if that 
 Offend you, and attend to reafon's voice : 
 
 Does
 
 OF BERWICK. 5 
 
 Does not the weary foe anticipate 
 
 Th' approaching truce, and guard negleclingly 
 
 The fouthern gate ? 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER. 
 
 'Tis a mafk'd negle6l, 
 It is the couchant lion prompt to feize 
 Th' unwary prey ah ! truft not to his ftern 
 Repofe. 
 
 VALENTINE. 
 
 If danger ftill muft check the current 
 Of enterprize, tell, tell me, Father, wherefore 
 You rear'd us in the hardy fchool of war ? 
 
 ARCHIBALD. 
 
 The road to martial glory well thou know'ft 
 Is not gay-fprinkled o'er with flowers, but broken 
 Helmets, fhiver'd fpears, and blood-ftain'd arrows 
 Choak up th' afpiring path of fame's afcent. 
 
 VALENTINE. 
 
 To be reftrain'd when proud occafion calls, 
 'Twere better thou hadft led me to fome cloifter, 
 Where holy peace refides, o'er-canopied 
 By antient roofs, that ever made her from 
 The madd'ning fun-beams of ambition's fky. 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER. 
 
 Forbear to torture thus a parent's feelings. 
 *. 
 
 ARCHIBALD.
 
 6 THE SIEGE 
 
 ARCHIBALD. 
 
 Indulgent Father, reft affur'd we both 
 
 Pay homage to the thought that now difturbs you ; 
 
 But with th' experienced Melvil we have juft 
 
 Conferr'd. 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER. 
 
 And he undoubtedly contemn'd 
 Your gaudy dream, that meteor of the brain. 
 
 VALENTINE. 
 
 'Twas not the meteor of a heated brain, 
 It was a fun-beam of revealing Heaven, 
 It was the fympathetic glow of two 
 According minds. 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER. 
 
 Of this enough What faid 
 Th' experienc'd Melvil ? 
 
 ARCHIBALD. 
 
 After due attention 
 
 To our propofal, he firft ftamp'd it with 
 The feal of his applaufe, and then added 
 Arguments that embodied as it were 
 Our enterprize, and brighten'd it with the 
 Calm colouring of reafon. 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER. 
 
 I will myfelf 
 Confer with Melvil ; and if he has words 
 
 To
 
 OF BERWICK. 7 
 
 To fmooth the rugged doubts that vex my mind, 
 Think not, my valiant fons, I fhall withhold 
 You from the object of your bold requeft. 
 
 ARCHIBALD. 
 
 To keep unfullied the bright martial name 
 Of Seaton, is indeed my proudeft wifh. 
 
 VALENTINE. 
 
 And if thy Valentine might add his mite 
 To the rich treafury of his Father's fame, 
 He would be happy. 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER. 
 
 Wait till I return. [Exit. 
 
 ARCHIBALD. 
 
 Excellent man ! his ardour to promote 
 Our caufe, and his folicitude about 
 Our fafety, combat and diftracl; his will. 
 
 VALENTINE. 
 
 More active, warm, and forcible affection 
 Was ne'er embofom'd in a father's foul ; 
 And therefore much I fear that Melvil can't 
 Subdue his fcruples. 
 
 ARCHIBALD. 
 
 Oft have I obferv'd 
 That Melvil's clear illumin'd manly judgment 
 
 Poffeffes
 
 8 THE SIEGE 
 
 Poffeffes fomething like magnetic power, 
 Which ftill attracts opinion to his fide. 
 
 VALENTINE. 
 
 May that attractive power be at this moment 
 Endued with double influence, that my Father 
 Withholding his reftraint, I might unbounded 
 Spring againft the foe ! This common praife 
 That's claim'd by every foldier, ill fupplies 
 My ftarv'd and craving appetite of fame. 
 
 ARCHIBALD. 
 
 Endearing Valentine, think not that I 
 Reprove thefe flatties of an ardent mind ; 
 But fhould your mounting wimes meet controul, 
 Wound not a Father's tender caution with 
 Reproach. 
 
 VALENTINE. 
 
 Sooner than wound his feeling mind 
 With fullen, fplenetic, unduteous carriage, 
 I wou'd, like the Spartan boy (who filently 
 Endur'd the gnawing fox) conceal my forrow, 
 Though, like the favage animal, it fhould 
 Prey upon my vitals. 
 
 ARCHIBALD. 
 
 Confider alfo 
 
 This warlike age will gratify your wifhes 
 With many a future enterprize ! The morn 
 Of life is now but breaking on thy youth. 
 
 VALENTINE.
 
 OF BERWICK. 9 
 
 VALENTINE. 
 
 Talk not to me of early youth : behold 
 Edward's brave fon, whofe age but equals mine 
 Oh were I equal with him in renown ! 
 Behold that boy on Creffy's wond'ring field 
 Reaping an immortal harveft, while I 
 Enveloped in obfcurity 
 
 ARCHIBALD. 
 
 Defift, 
 I hear fome ftep approaching. 
 
 Enter DONALDSON. 
 
 VALENTINE. 
 
 'Tis my Father ; 
 
 Ah, no ! 'tis Donaldfon. Say, haft thou feen 
 The Governor ? 
 
 DONALDSON. 
 
 I faw him as I pafs'd by 
 In clofe conference engag'd with Melvil. 
 
 VALENTINE. 
 
 Know'ft thou the fubjecT: of their conference ? 
 
 DONALDSON. 
 
 There breathes an ignorant rumour of a fally, 
 Propos'd it feems by Archibald and you. 
 
 C ARCHI-
 
 io THE SIEGE 
 
 ARCHIBALD. 
 
 It is as you have darkly heard, and here 
 Impatiently we wait the Governor's 
 Return. 
 
 VALENTINE. 
 See, here he comes. 
 
 Enter Sir ALEXANDER. 
 
 Hail to my Father ! 
 
 ARCHIBALD. 
 
 Sir, you appear difturbed. 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER. 
 
 Ah ! tell me, Archibald, 
 Is't with a look of cheerfulnefs a parent 
 Refigns his duteous children to the hazard 
 Of a fearful enterprize ? 
 
 ARCHIBALD. 
 
 Yet then reflecT;, 
 
 Melvil the military fage approves 
 The enterprize. 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER. 
 
 But Melvil has no children, 
 His fmooth fail of honour meets no adverfe 
 Gales to check its progrefs, 'Tis not thus with 
 
 me: 
 Say how mail I endure the keen reproofs 
 
 Of
 
 OF BERWICK. ii 
 
 Of Ethelberta, when fhe is inform'd 
 That I have fent, without the imperious call 
 Of ftern neceffity, her darling children 
 To the path of danger ? 
 
 VALENTINE. 
 
 Speak not of danger, 
 'Tis the foldier's charter, his beft privilege. 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER. 
 
 Something withholds my full confent, 
 And calls my judgment to fevere account ! 
 Forgive this trembling caution in a parent. 
 
 VALENTINE. 
 
 Had England's warlike king fupprefs'd his fon's 
 Afcending foul, on her proud lift of victories 
 We fhould not have found the name of Creffy ! 
 
 ARCHIBALD. 
 
 'Twas on the fummit of a neighb'ring hill 
 The father flood, and faw his youthful fon 
 Oppofe the pride of France ; and when the Earls 
 Of Warwick and of Oxford fent a herald, 
 To claim immediate fuccour from the king 
 
 VALENTINE. 
 
 Did not the king reply, Go tell the lords 
 Who fent you, that while my boy 's alive 
 
 C 2 They
 
 12 THE SIEGE 
 
 They will require my aid in vain : the glory 
 Of this great day fhall be his own ? 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER. 
 
 Enough ! 
 
 Your arguments prevail, and you have won me 
 To your requeft. Go, join the fkilful Melvil, 
 The Neftor of the war, and ftri6lly mark 
 His words and well-weigh'd counfel firft receive 
 The anxious Father's bleffing. (Embraces hisfons.) 
 
 May that Power 
 
 Who oft hath fhielded me in many a combat, 
 Oh ! may that guardian, kind, benignant Angel 
 Now hover o'er my children ! 
 
 (Leads them to the door, and returns.) 
 
 Donaldfon, 
 This is an awful moment for a Father ! 
 
 DONALDSON. 
 
 Think not fo deeply, Sir, nor feed your mind 
 With bufy tort'ring vain furmifes ; think 
 How often you've encounter'd perils imminent, 
 And ftill return'd with glory. 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER. 
 
 Unavailing 
 
 Remembrance ! rear'd as I have almoft been 
 In ftorms of battle, fay what paternal 
 Bofom will not feel a warm renew'd affection 
 For two fuch fons flaged to the front of danger ? 
 
 DONALDSON.
 
 OF BERWICK. 13 
 
 DONALDSON. 
 
 But fhould not Ethelberta be informed ? 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER. 
 
 Ah ! there you probe my bofom's tender part : 
 No, Donaldfon, the mother muft not know 
 The gathering florin that 's brooding o'er her fons; 
 Her quick' ning appreheniion would outrun 
 The deed, and picture to itfelf images 
 That would diftra6l her. 'Tis my duty, my 
 Religion, ftill to fhield her mind from all 
 That may affail it. 
 
 DONALDSON. 
 
 Many a time have 
 I liften'd to the fplendid narrative 
 Of Ethelberta's virtues. 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER. 
 
 From the happy hour 
 I firft call'd her mine, unto this moment, 
 She has with unremitting fortitude 
 Attended me through many a rugged day. 
 
 DONALDSON. 
 I think that England triumphs in her birth. 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER. 
 
 At thofe fam'd tournaments that Edward held 
 At Windfor, did I firft behold that matchless 
 
 Woman,
 
 i 4 THE SIEGE 
 
 Woman, tho' attractive, yet not dazzling : 
 As looks the fofter green amidft the radiant 
 Colours of the vernal bow, fo Ethelberta 
 Seem'd 'mid the circling flufh of Britifh beauties. 
 This gorgeous caftle, and its proud delights, 
 The daughter of Earl Nevil willingly 
 Refign'd, to fhare with me the perils of 
 The late crufade : This faithful Wife, this foothing 
 Companion of my way, ftill fmooth'd the harrow'd 
 Walk of war Ev'n as the wall-flower rears its 
 
 form, 
 
 And fmiles and flourifhes 'midft tombs and ruins, 
 So Ethelberta's warm affection grew 
 'Mid ficknefs, want, fatigue, diftrefs, and danger. 
 
 Enter ANSELM. 
 Hail, holy Father! what doft thou report? 
 
 ANSELM. 
 
 With hafty ftep I come, Sir, to acquaint you 
 That the bold enterprize is well prepar'd : 
 Along the fubterraneous windings did 
 The gallant troops advance, 'till they approach'd 
 The chapel of St. Andrew, near the gate 
 That iffues to the field : here paus'd the band 
 And then in facred filence lowly bending 
 Dedicated themfelves unto their country. 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER. 
 
 What follow'd ? 
 
 ANSELM.
 
 OF BERWICK. 15 
 
 AN S ELM. 
 
 Then with folemn voice I utter'd 
 Warm from my throbbing heart, the benediction 
 That is appointed in the hour of danger. 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER. 
 Yet tell me what directions then were given ? 
 
 ANSELM. 
 
 It was agreed that your two fons, attended 
 By a chofen few, fhould rufh upon the foe, 
 While Melvil with a greater number fhould, 
 Taking a wide circling path, fall on the rear. 
 Brave Melvil firft began the filent march : 
 Then did your fons lead forth their gallant men 
 Thro' the deep awful gloom the fignal for 
 The onfet is to be the convent bell 
 That tolls at midnight. 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER. 
 
 Wherefore did I yield me 
 
 To their wild requeft ? Oh fay, is 't yet too late ? 
 The leave they wrefted from me I may (till 
 Recall. 
 
 ANSELM. 
 
 The die is caft, and you muft wait 
 Th' event : yet elevate your mind to hope ; 
 For me I augur well of this bold enterprize. 
 
 SIR
 
 16 THE SIEGE 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER. 
 
 But as a Father fhou'd I not have been 
 More cautious, more referved ? 
 
 ANSELM. 
 
 The facred poet 
 
 Says, Children are as arrows in the hand 
 Of a giant, to perform his purpofe. 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER. 
 
 Your words, good Anfelm, animate my hopes, 
 
 And lift me to my wonted confidence 
 
 In Heaven. Did'ft thou not fay, the convent bell 
 
 At midnight was th' appointed fignal for 
 
 The onfet ? 
 
 ANSELM. 
 Ev'n fo ! 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER. 
 
 See Ethelberta comes ; 
 Farewell 'tis meet that now ye both retire. 
 
 \Exeunt. 
 
 Enter ETHELBERTA. 
 
 ETHELBERTA. 
 
 I hope I'm no intruder ; if I am, 
 
 My warm folicitude for you muft plead 
 
 Indulgence. 
 
 6 SIR
 
 OF BERWICK. 17 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER. 
 Ever moft welcome ! 
 
 ETHELBERTA. 
 
 Methinks 
 
 You look all harafs'd, pale and overcome ; 
 'Tis not furprifmg but I'm told the foe 
 Anticipates the truce, by retreating 
 To fome diftance. Wherefore do you not 
 Retire to reft ? 'Tis late, 'tis almoft midnight. 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER. 
 Midnight, did'ft thou fay ? 
 
 ETHELBERTA. 
 
 Sir, you feem alarm'd ? 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER. 
 What recent fubjecl; is there to alarm me ? 
 
 ETHELBERTA. 
 
 Forgive my bufy fond anxiety, 
 
 That catches as it were at airy fymptoms. 
 
 Where are my fons ? tell me when I may fee them ? 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER. 
 I hope to-morrow. 
 
 ETHELBERTA. 
 
 Wherefore doft thou only 
 
 Hope? Does not the truce take place to-morrow ? 
 
 D What
 
 i8 THE SIEGE 
 
 What fhould then prevent ? (The dell tolls.) 
 
 Oh ! what tranfports you ? 
 'Twas but the wonted midnight bell, that calls 
 The holy fathers to their pray'rs ; relieve, 
 Relieve me from this painful ignorance, 
 And let thine Ethelberta fhare the pang 
 That rends thy heart. 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER. 
 Dear Wife, forbear to queflion me 
 
 ETHELBERTA. 
 
 Will you not retire to reft, for fure you 
 Need it much ? 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER. 
 
 Perchance I may. Directions 
 Of higheft import I have firft to give ! 
 
 ETHELBERTA. 
 
 Farewell do not tarry long. Care and forrow 
 Mingle on thy brow. Farewell ! my warmeft . 
 Bleffmg to my fons ! 
 
 {Exit. 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER. 
 
 That bleffing was pronounc'd 
 By her whofe fons perchance are now no more 
 
 Enter DONALDSON. 
 Well Donaldfon, what haft thou to relate ? 
 
 DONALDSON.
 
 OF BERWICK. 19 
 
 DONALDSON. 
 
 By fome perfidious means the foe, appris'd 
 Of the intended fally, were prepar'd to meet 
 The troops that Melvil led. O'erpower'd by 
 
 numbers, 
 
 He and moil of his brave train lie flaughter'd 
 On the plain As for your fons 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER. 
 
 Ah ! what of them ? 
 
 DONALDSON. 
 
 In warmeft combat they are now engag'd ! 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER. 
 I'll fly to their affiftance (Draws hisfabre.) 
 
 DONALDSON. 
 
 Let me firft 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER. 
 
 Ceafe your vain talking, I muft fpeed away 
 To fave my fons, or perifh in their caufe. 
 
 \_Exeunt. 
 
 End of the FIRST ACT. 
 
 i 
 D 2 ACT
 
 20 THE SIEGE 
 
 ^jw^^ 
 
 ACT THE SECOND. 
 
 Enter ETHELBERTA and JULIANA. 
 
 ETHELBERTA. 
 
 C AY, what can be the caufe of their deferring me ? 
 
 I have not fmce the truce began beheld 
 The Governor, nor have I yet embrac'd 
 My children ! they whofe dutiful affection 
 I have until this prefent hour experienc'd ! 
 Whence comes it they defraud me of their cheering 
 Prefence ? 
 
 J U LI A N A. 
 
 'Tis bufmefs of fome great moment 
 Perchance delays them. 
 
 ETHELBERTA. 
 
 Feed me not with vain 
 Pretexts ; their prefence only can affuage 
 My ftarv'd and ravenous longing! wild conception 
 Peoples the void of abfence with many 
 Ghastly and terrific forms. 
 
 JULIANA.
 
 OF BER\VICK. 21 
 
 J ULI ANA. 
 
 Shall I withdraw 
 In order to inveftigate the caufe ? 
 
 ETHELBERTA. 
 
 No, Juliana, you muft not defert me, 
 I am too wretched and unfit for folitude ! 
 Why do you fend your view to yonder portal. 
 
 (Juliana retires afewjleps, 
 and then returns.) 
 
 JULIANA. 
 
 Now caft away your fears ; behold, behold ! 
 The Governor approaches. 
 
 Enter SIR ALEXANDER. 
 
 ETHELBERTA. 
 
 Your prefence 
 
 Is as the fun unto the darken'd landfcape : 
 Wherefore haft thou linger'd thus ? Oh, tell me 
 Where are my children ? 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER. 
 
 They are well. 
 
 ETHELBERTA. 
 
 Yet why 
 Do they delay to blefs a mother's fight ? 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER. 
 
 'Tis proper now I mould reveal. 
 
 ETHELBERTA.
 
 22 THE SIEGE 
 
 ETHELBERTA. 
 
 Reveal ! 
 You've then fome fearful fecret to unfold. 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER. 
 
 Dear Ethelberta, be not thus alarm'd ! 
 Already have I faid our boys are well. 
 Laft night a fally was propos'd. Archibald 
 And Valentine entreated much to lead 
 The onfet. 
 
 ETHELBERTA. 
 
 And you yielded to their entreaty ? 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER. 
 
 The fubtle foe by fome dark perfidy 
 Had early notice of the deep-laid fcheme, 
 And. were too well prepar'd. 
 
 ETHELBERTA. 
 
 My blood runs cold. 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER. 
 
 Ah, rather let it glow at my recital : 
 Your fons have gain'd the warrior's beft reward, 
 Unfullied fame. Three times did their fmall force 
 Drive back their triple-number'd foes ; at length, 
 By their encreafmg powers fubdued (with nine 
 Of their brave men remaining) they submitted 
 To be captives. 
 
 ETHEL-
 
 OF BERWICK. 23 
 
 ETHELBERTA. 
 
 Say, who firft fuggefted 
 This rafh enterprize ? 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER. 
 
 Melvil applauded 
 
 What my fons propos'd ; and to the energy 
 With which he utter'd his approving thought 
 Did I relu6lantly give my affent. 
 
 ETHELBERTA. 
 
 Curs'd be old Melvil for his rafh approval ! 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER. 
 
 Spare your refentment, and revere the dead ; 
 Fall'n is his valiant arm, to rife no more. 
 
 ETHELBERTA. 
 
 Then peace be to his foul ! Let me retain 
 A grateful fenfe to Heav'n that my lov'd children 
 Are not, as Melvil, number'd with the flain ; 
 The lofs of thofe dear boys would be to me 
 As if the fpring were blotted from the year. 
 Come, Juliana, let us to our cuftomed 
 Vifitation of the fick and wounded. 
 
 \_Exit Ethelberta and Juliana. 
 
 Enter ANSELM. 
 
 AN S ELM. 
 
 A herald from the foe is juft arriv'd, 
 And waits your orders for admiffion. 
 
 SIR
 
 24 THE SIEGE 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER. 
 
 Let him be admitted. 
 
 Enter HERALD. 
 
 THE HERALD. 
 
 Sir, this letter, 
 
 Of high import, I'm order'd to deliver 
 Into your hands only. 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER. 
 
 Retire awhile : 
 In fome few moments come for my reply. 
 
 (Reads to himself.) 
 
 AN S ELM. 
 
 Methinks you look difturbed ! Say, what can be 
 The drift of this important note ? 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER. 
 
 Attend ! (reads aloud.) 
 
 " Complaints have reach'd me from my court, as if 
 " I linger'd in fubjecling your proud town: 
 " To thefe complaints ftrong menaces are added ! 
 " I therefore fummon you to furrender, 
 " Or elfe your fons fhall rue your ftubbornnefs : 
 " I will ere<5t two pillars near the tower 
 " From whence your crowding arrows gall us moft ; 
 " To thefe two pillars fhall your fons be chain'd ; 
 " Expos'd to the whole tempeft of the war." 
 
 Q ANSELM.
 
 OF BERWICK. 25 
 
 ANSELM. 
 
 The blackeft fiend in hell conceiv'd that thought, 
 
 & 
 
 And breath'd it on his mind. 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER. 
 
 I know him well ; 
 It fuits the native difpofition of the man. 
 
 Enter ETHELBERTA. 
 
 t 
 
 ETHELBERTA. 
 
 Ah ! wonder not I haftily return : 
 
 I'm told a Herald from the camp is come 
 
 What tidings of my fons ? 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER. 
 
 Perufe this note. 
 
 (She reads.) 
 
 ETHELBERTA. 
 
 Say, what doft thou intend to do ? 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER. 
 
 My duty. 
 
 ETHELBERTA. 
 
 Is't then a duty to deftroy your children ? 
 To rend affeclion from your inmoft breaft ; 
 Uproot the thoughts of pity as they grow ; 
 Embowel nature of her hallow'd feelings ? 
 And to a mother dare you this avow ? 
 
 E SIR
 
 26 THE SIEGE 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER. 
 I dare avow what honour bids me do. 
 
 ETHELBERTA. 
 
 The untam'd Arab, who exifts on plunder, 
 Lets fall his booty to affift his child ! 
 But you, whom polifhed manners fhould adorn, 
 Whofe pure religion wears a fofter feature, 
 Do you reject the impulfe of compaffion, 
 For the ftern morals of imagin'd honour ? 
 
 Enter HERALD. 
 
 HERALD. 
 Sir, the time urges, what is your reply ? 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER. 
 
 Go, tell your favage, and blood-thirfty General, 
 The facred oath I utter'd to my country 
 And to my royal mafter, when I was 
 Exalted to the ftation I now hold, 
 Contains my anfwer. Sir, you may return. 
 
 ETHELBERTA. 
 
 Stay one fhort moment, hear a mother plead : 
 Tho' dead to pity, riches may perchance 
 Allure his mind ! I've jewels of high value 
 
 (Sir Alexander makes afignal to 
 the Herald, who retires.) 
 
 He goes, he heeds not what I fay ; my fons 
 Are then condemn'd without refource. Enjoy, 
 
 (turning
 
 OF BERWICK. 27 
 
 (turning to Sir Alexander.) 
 
 Enjoy this philofophic victory, 
 
 This conqueft, this cold triumph o'er all feeling 
 
 Domeftic pity, conjugal affiance, 
 
 Fatherly endearment, are by you profan'd ! 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER. 
 
 What does this mean ? dare you affert I do 
 Not love my children ? 
 
 ETHELBERTA. 
 
 Say, where are the proofs ? 
 Is yielding up your fons without a conflict, 
 Without reforting to the prompt expedient 
 Affection wou'd have flown to ? Is refigning 
 Your fons, without the interpofmg a fhort 
 Delay, without a paufe, without inventing 
 Some pious artifice ; are thefe the proofs 
 Of your paternal kindnefs ? Evidence 
 Like this would not be admitted in the court 
 Of Nature. 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER. 
 
 Ceafe this idle declamation ! 
 Refpect, refpect the great, the folemn trial, 
 To which my pure allegiance now is call'd ! 
 I fee the defolating hour approach, 
 Like the dark ftorm that thickens as it fails ! 
 It is the woman's privilege to weep 
 And utter her complaints : to man belongs 
 The majefty of grief! yet not the lefs 
 Does the fond parent warm this bofom : 
 
 E 2 Ev'n
 
 28 THE SIEGE 
 
 Ev'n while proud honour and relentlefs duty 
 Seem to command the function of my foul, 
 I've that within that tells me I'm a father. 
 
 ETHELBERTA. 
 
 Thus the pale cheek of hungry fame is flufh'd 
 And rudded o'er with the falfe glow of duty. 
 
 A N S E L M. 
 
 Make not the bitter cup he's doomed to drink 
 Still more bitter by the infufions of reproach. 
 
 ETHELBERTA. 
 
 May not the broken-hearted mother fpeak; 
 May not her madd'ning forrow ftill attempt 
 To fnatch her children from deftruclion ? 
 
 Enter an OFFICER. 
 
 OFFICER. 
 
 I come to pour glad tidings on your ear ! 
 Your fons 
 
 ETHELBERTA. 
 
 What of my fons ? 
 
 OFFICER. 
 
 They are return'd : 
 
 Relenting, as 'tis thought, of his intention, 
 The General has reftor'd them to your wifhes. 
 
 ETHEL-
 
 OF BERWICK. 29 
 
 ETHELBERTA. 
 
 Ah ! tell me where you faw them ? 
 
 OFFICER. 
 
 Entering at 
 
 The fouthern gate, amidft th' applauding multitude ! 
 They bade me hasten to your prefence with 
 The news of their return. 
 
 ETHELBERTA. 
 
 Wherefore do they 
 Linger thus ? 
 
 OFFICER. 
 
 Methinks I hear their foot-fteps 
 
 Enter ARCHIBALD and VALENTINE. 
 
 ETHELBERTA. 
 
 What glorious vifion meets my raptur'd eyes ! 
 
 (Runs to embrace them.) 
 This fudden joy, this unimagin'd heaven, 
 Tranfports me beyond all pow'r of utterance, 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER. 
 
 Your prefence, my lov'd children, fmooths 
 
 The rugged conflict in my breafl. Whence comes 
 
 This change of counfel in the tyrant's mind ? 
 
 4 ETHEL-
 
 
 30 THE SIEGE 
 
 ETHELBERTA. 
 
 Ah ! rather tell me where, where is the joy 
 That ought to harmonife with ours ? Archibald, 
 Your down-caft look portends fome dread intel- 
 ligence : 
 
 And you, my Valentine, where is thy wonted 
 Gaiety ? 
 
 ARCHIBALD. 
 
 I have of high importance 
 Something to communicate to my Father. 
 
 ETHELBERTA. 
 
 May not I be prefent at the interview ? 
 
 ARCHIBALD. 
 
 What I'm going to unfold will diftrefs you. 
 
 ETHELBERTA. 
 
 No, no! your mutual fafety is fufficient 
 To bear me up againft this new calamity ! 
 But wherefore do you weep ? 
 
 ARCHIBALD. 
 
 Thefe tears I fhed 
 
 Spring from affeclion, not from fear. I'll die 
 Worthy of fuch parents. 
 
 VALEN-
 
 OF BERWICK. 31 
 
 VALENTINE. 
 
 So will I ! 
 
 ETHELBERTA. 
 
 Wherefore, 
 Wherefore do ye talk of death ? 
 
 ARCHIBALD. 
 
 With a mockery 
 
 Of pity does the General fend us back : 
 One of us muft return to be the victim 
 Of his cruelty. 
 
 ETHELBERTA. 
 
 Oh I never. 
 
 ARCHIBALD. 
 
 We're bound 
 
 By honour's tie, the foldier's ftrongeft chain ; 
 One mufl return : and unappall'd we wait 
 
 (turning to Sir Alexander.) 
 For your decifion. 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER. 
 
 Ah ! what Father can 
 Decide of two affectionate and duteous 
 Children, which fhall be led to (laughter ? Say, 
 Was I to raife in awful thought the balance 
 Of my affection, and cou'd judgment fee 
 
 One
 
 32 THE SIEGE 
 
 One fide prevail, ftill facred nature's hand 
 Would join and equalize the trembling fcales. 
 
 VALENTINE (to ETHELBERTA.) 
 Be comforted. 
 
 ETHELBERTA. 
 
 Oh ! my dear Valentine. 
 
 (Falls on his neck.) 
 
 ANSELM. 
 
 I think all this is a mere ftratagem 
 
 To lengthen out the truce. Allow me, Sir, 
 
 To haften to the General's tent ; there will 
 
 I urge with glowing words my fuit, 
 
 There paint the infamy that muft involve him, 
 
 If, thus profaning the hallow'd feelings 
 
 Of Parents 
 
 VALENTINE. 
 
 Holy father ! 'twou'd become 
 Thee better to affuage, fupport with comfort's 
 Lenient voice, this drooping mother, than to 
 Interfere with what regards my brother's 
 Honour and my own. 
 
 ETHELBERTA. 
 
 I'll write to the General 
 
 In words of foothing power, in terms of energy, 
 Such as the mother's throbbing heart conceives. 
 
 VALEN-
 
 OF BERWICK: 33 
 
 VALENTINE. 
 
 No letter muft be written,, for 'twou'd feem 
 Our dictating, and would fhew like cowardice. 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER. 
 There fpoke my valiant fon. 
 
 ARCHIBALD. 
 
 Our mutual dignity 
 Forbids, abhors all interpofition. 
 
 ETHELBERTA. 
 
 Then I have loft my children. 
 
 VALENTINE. 
 
 That follows not ; 
 
 He who is firft in years, in (kill, experience, 
 He muft be fpar'd, the general caufe demands him. 
 
 ARCHIBALD. 
 
 What fays the hafty Valentine ? 
 
 VALENTINE. 
 
 Command 
 
 Your rifmg indignation, I'll explain. 
 Allow us, Father, for fome few moments, 
 To confer alone, that free from all reftraint 
 I may to Archibald difclofe my mind, 
 And utter arguments that may fubdue 
 
 F His
 
 34 THE SIEGE 
 
 His reafon to my ardent wifh, and thus 
 Prevent th' extinction of our family. 
 
 ARCHIBALD. 
 
 Perifh to the root the name of Seaton, 
 
 And let oblivion's night o'erfhade the proud 
 
 Exploits of our long anceftry, ere I 
 
 Confent to that which muft degrade and fhrink 
 
 Me in my own efteem ! 
 
 VALENTINE. 
 
 I mean not that. 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER. 
 
 Come, Ethelberta, let us for a while 
 Retire, and leave them to confer alone. 
 
 ETHELBERTA. 
 
 Well the high theme of your difcourfe I know, 
 
 It is a conteft for the palm of death : 
 
 But in this glorious conflict ftill remember 
 
 What is due to your afflicted Mother. 
 
 If any plan, expedient, or device, 
 
 Allied to honour, fhould fuggeft itfelf ; 
 
 If any beam mould pierce this awful gloom, 
 
 Admit its facred influence on your mind, 
 
 And fave me from defpair. 
 
 (Exit with ANSELM, JULIANA, 
 and SIR ALEXANDER.) 
 
 VALEN-
 
 OF BERWICK. 35 
 
 VALENTINE. 
 
 Fear is no inmate of thy glowing breaft ; 
 Yet then reflect that other thoughts than thofe 
 That courage breathes muft fometimes regulate 
 A foldier's conduct. Say, haft thou not heard 
 That mercy, refignation, are the nobler 
 Duties of a foldier ? 
 
 ARCHIBALD. 
 
 Where is now that 
 Mercy claim'd? where call'd for? mercy on whom ? 
 
 VALENTINE. 
 Mercy on your Parents, and on your country. 
 
 ARCHIBALD. 
 
 This puerile declamation moves me not. 
 
 VALENTINE. 
 
 I fpeak the language of a mind fincere, 
 To one who is my friend as well as brother, 
 For whom my partial fondnefs ne'er was doubted. 
 
 ARCHIBALD. 
 
 He loves me not who does not love my fame ! 
 Was I to yield to your ill-tim'd fuggeftion, 
 Wou'd not each finger mark me as I pafs, 
 As one who fkulks behind the privilege 
 Of elderfhip to fave himfelf from death ? 
 
 F 2 I feel
 
 36 THE SIEGE 
 
 I feel difhonour as I feel a wound 
 The fatal fpot to which we both afpire, 
 Is glory's prize, is honour's awful flation, 
 And I now claim it as my facred birth-right. 
 
 VALENTINE. 
 I contend no longer. 
 
 ARCHIBALD. 
 
 Let me haflen, 
 
 Fly to my Father to proclaim the news, 
 That Valentine at length confents to live. 
 
 VALENTINE. 
 
 Allow me one fhort moment, and be calm : 
 Say, wilt thou, with an avarice of fame, 
 Demand exclufively the meed of glory ? 
 Wilt thou purfue the path that leads to death, 
 And leave thy faithful Valentine behind ? 
 
 ARCHIBALD. 
 
 Ceafe, generous brother, or thou'It break my heart 
 
 VALENTINE. 
 
 When firft I quitted childhood's lowly vale, 
 Eager with you I climb'd youth's arduous height, 
 Wheftce greater fcenes expanded on my view ; 
 Still our purfuits, confenting to one plan, 
 Our lives like wedded ftreams united roll'd ; 
 And will you now difturb the facred tide, 
 And bid the kindred waves difparting run ? 
 
 ARCHI-
 
 OF BERWICK. 37 
 
 ARCHIBALD. 
 
 'Tis as you fay, in us was ever found 
 The fympathetic union of the mind, 
 The harmony of affection and defign. 
 
 VALENTINE. 
 
 And wou'd it not be facrilege to tear 
 Our fouls afunder ? Mark my firm refolve, 
 I will attend thee to the fatal fpot, 
 And fhare an equal deftiny with thee. 
 
 ARCHIBALD. 
 I yield, I bow to thy fublimer mind. 
 
 VALENTINE. 
 
 Let's hafte away, left Ethelberta fhou'd 
 Return, and with her tears unman our purpofe. 
 
 ARCHIBALD. 
 
 Agreed We'll haften to our mutual doom, 
 Co-equals at the hallow'd fhrine of danger. 
 
 VALENTINE. 
 
 Will not the fpirits of our valiant anceftry 
 
 Lean from their golden thrones on high, wellpleas'd 
 
 While thus (Encircling his brother.) 
 
 we march undaunted to our fate. 
 One heart 
 
 ARC HI-
 
 THE SIEGE 
 
 ARCHIBALD. 
 One caufe 
 
 VALENTINE. 
 
 One ruin, and one fame ! 
 
 \_Exeunt. 
 
 End of the SECOND ACT. 
 
 
 ACT
 
 OF BER WICK. 
 
 39 
 
 ACT THE THIRD. 
 
 Enter ETHELBERTA and JULIANA. 
 
 ETHELBERTA. 
 
 P L E D to the camp ! Both fled ! Impoffible I 
 
 JULIANA. 
 Pure honour breathing on their bofom 
 
 ETHELBERTA. 
 
 Fled, 
 Without one parting word ! 
 
 JULIANA. 
 
 The great trial 
 They are call'd to claims their whole attention. 
 
 ETHELBERTA. 
 
 Has then the phantom glory fteel'd my children 
 
 Into favages ? Not one endearing 
 
 Word to foothe their fond afflicted Mother ? 
 
 JULIANA.
 
 40 THE SIEGE 
 
 JULIANA. 
 
 The rigorous duty of their fituation 
 
 ETHELBERTA. 
 
 What duty is more preffmg or more facred 
 Than that a Mother claims ? It rifes out 
 Of Nature's bofom, fummon'd by the voice 
 Of Heaven ! 
 
 JULIANA. 
 
 Their better judgment held them from 
 Your prefence ; well, full well they knew the fight 
 Of two fons haft'ning to untimely death 
 Wou'd rend your heart. 
 
 ETHELBERTA. 
 
 It muft be fo, it was, 
 
 It was their love that urg'd them to avoid me ! 
 The cloud of dark furmife that here was gathering 
 Begins to melt in air ! and my full heart 
 Expands to all its wonted warm affection. 
 
 JULIANA. 
 
 To this affection join a confidence 
 That all may yet be well. 
 
 ETHELBERTA. 
 
 I dare not caft 
 
 A meeting glance upon th' approaching hour. 
 Cou'd I but raife my finking mind to the 
 Faint hope, that the arrows haply might not 
 
 Reach
 
 OF BERWICK. 41 
 
 Reach my children ! That the tyrant may 
 Relent of his fell purpofe ! Vain endeavour ! 
 
 Each way I look I meet defpair. Yet now 
 
 A thought poffeffes me Indulge my weaknefs 
 Ah ! pity the difeafe that flies to fuch 
 A remedy I've heard a fkilful forcerefs 
 Does in this town refide, whofe magic power 
 Unfolds the future to her trembling vifitant 
 
 JULIANA. 
 
 It is as you report, and many a haplefs 
 Virgin, many a diftrefsful mother, 
 Have confulted her. 
 
 ETHELBERTA. 
 
 'Tis faid me rivals 
 
 The weird fifterhood of ancient days, 
 While o'er her mind pale prophecy hangs flutter- 
 ing. 
 The dread vaunt-courier of futurity 
 
 Perchance this deeply-fkill'd magician may 
 Tranfport my ignorant fears beyond th' event. 
 
 JULIANA. 
 
 Yet fay, was me by her exploring art 
 
 To raife your ignorant fears to horrid certainties 
 
 ETHELBERTA. 
 
 Better to know the worfe, than thus to live 
 
 In apprehenfion, unrelenting agony ! 
 
 Can'ft thou inform me where the forcerefs dwells ? 
 
 G JULIANA.
 
 42 THE SIEGE 
 
 JULIANA. 
 
 Her lonely cell is feen not far from hence, 
 Amidft the ruins of an ancient cloifter, 
 Upon the burial ground ! There on a feat 
 Of ebony, o'erfpread with human fkulls, 
 She exercifeth her tremendous function. 
 
 ETHELBERTA. 
 
 Whence does the hag derive her daring miffion ? 
 Is 't from on high, or from the caves of hell ? 
 Does fhe not lift her impious hand to rend 
 The fanctuary-veil that hangs 'tween men and 
 
 angels ? 
 
 And on the breaft of heaven fhe fends a glance 
 Profane ! 
 
 JULIANA. 
 
 This deep reflection will avert 
 Your anxious mind from its new-form'd purpofe. 
 
 ETHELBERTA. 
 
 Let me be wretched, let me not be impious : 
 Never will I tread the path that leads to 
 Her unhallow'd cell. Another thought occurs, 
 Which meets my heart's confent Come, come 
 
 what may, 
 
 I'll go in perfon to the hoflile camp, 
 There, rufhing on the rude barbarian, 
 I will demand my children. 
 
 JULIANA. 
 
 Vain, vain project ! 
 
 ETHEL-
 
 OF BERWICK. 43 
 
 ETHELBERTA. 
 
 He'll hear my plaintive voice, he'll fee thefe eyes 
 In tears. 
 
 JULIANA. 
 
 Th' unfeeling wretch will mock thofe tears. 
 
 ETHELBERTA. 
 
 Affection will endue my fpeech with eloquence ; 
 The monfler felf will foften at warm nature 
 Pleading for her darling fons. 
 
 JULIANA. 
 
 Confider 
 
 What dangers you'll encounter, to what infults 
 You there may be expos'd : 'tis likely you 
 May be detain'd a captive, and immur'd 
 Within the precincts of a lonefome dungeon. 
 
 ETHELBERTA. 
 
 Talk not to me of dangers, I defpife them. 
 
 Say, haft thou not beheld the bold fea-eagle, 
 
 When her dear young one from the rock hath fall'n, 
 
 Defcend undaunted to the roaring main, 
 
 Dafh with her throbbing breaft the waves afunder, 
 
 To fnatch the neftling from the ravenous fhark ! 
 
 And would'ft thou have me paufe and hefitate 
 
 To a6l the mother's part ? Let us retire, 
 
 And feek for Anfelm to attend 
 
 And guide my footfteps to the tyrant's tent. 
 
 \Exeunt. 
 
 G 2 Enter
 
 44 THE SIEGE 
 
 Enter Sir ALEXANDER and ANSELM. 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER. 
 
 Yes, Anfelm, I confefs I glory in 
 
 Thefe children their abrupt departure wakes 
 
 At once my wonder and delight! Say, has 
 
 It not a relifh of the antique manners, 
 
 Some proud refemblance of the Roman mind ? 
 
 ANSELM. 
 
 This mutual dedication of themfelves 
 
 To certain death will ornament our annals. 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER. 
 
 As torrents feed the river, fo my fons 
 
 Swell the ftrong current of my country's fame. 
 
 ANSELM. 
 
 You alfo fhare your part in this fublime 
 Tranfadlion. 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER. 
 
 The renown is their's, and mine 
 Is the diftrefs. My fcene in this deep drama 
 Is to bid my archers fhoot their arrows 
 Where my defencelefs fons will be expos'd 
 To their full rage. Alas ! I fear, good father, 
 I have not virtue equal to the tafk. 
 
 ANSELM. 
 Virtue is ever found fuperior to 
 
 The
 
 OF BERWICK. 45 
 
 The rugged tafk ; and, like the water-plant, 
 Afcends ftill higher than the fwelling flood. 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER. 
 Was ever father fo feverely tried. 
 
 ANSELM. 
 
 Image to yourfelf that you are a<5ling 
 In fight of angels and immortal fpirits, 
 And thro' the fcenery that darkens round 
 Look up, as to the fun that breaks the cloud, 
 Look up unto th' approving fmile of Heav'n ! 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER. 
 
 I fometimes think the tyrant will relent. 
 
 ANSELM. 
 He 's not of Englifh birth. 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER. 
 
 Of that you may be certain : 
 Humanity adorns the Englifh foldier; 
 It is the wholefome gale that ventilates 
 Their heart, from the low fubaltern up to 
 The royal youth who now in Gallia leads 
 His valiant band 
 
 ANSELM. 
 
 From Norway is he not 
 This wretch who outrages a parent's feeling ? 
 
 SIR
 
 46 THE SIEGE 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER. 
 
 Ev'n fo. A pirate on the northern feas, 
 
 HJs fkill and matchlefs courage lifted him 
 
 To fame : and being by diftrefs of weather 
 
 Driv'n on the Englifh coaft, the warlike Edward, 
 
 Dazzled by his enterprizing fpirit, 
 
 Gave him to command the troops that now inveft us. 
 
 ANSELM. 
 
 But tell me, has your fons' abrupt departure 
 Yet reach'd the ear of haplefs Ethelberta ? 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER. 
 
 I know not that. I muft not now approach 
 Her prefence ; her unbounded forrow would 
 111 fuit the frame of mind that I muft now 
 Acquire ! Go, holy father, and difpenfe 
 The balm of comfort to her bleeding foul 
 I muft confer with Donaldfon. 
 
 {Exit ANSELM. 
 
 Enter DONALDSON. 
 
 DONALDSON. 
 
 Your commands have been attended to, and 
 Now the town is difencumber'd of its 
 Numbers The wide northern gate recoiling, 
 Pour'd forth a length'ning train. The aged war- 
 riors 
 
 Pafs'd
 
 47 
 
 Pafs'd on in mournful filence. This difmiffion, 
 Which mark'd their inutility, appear'd 
 To humble and degrade them. 
 
 i 
 SIR ALEXANDER. 
 
 'Tis a cruel 
 
 But neceffary order on my part 
 Yet then thefe aged and once adlive men 
 May haply in a few fhort days return, 
 And then refume their wonted occupations, 
 Habits and cuftoms, which they now forego 
 But never mall I meet with comfort more 
 My fons ! my fons ! 
 
 DONALDSON. 
 
 Next in long order mov'd 
 A female band, while many a penfive wife 
 Threw back a frequent glance of fond regard. 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER. 
 
 'Tis well. Your diligence demands my thanks, 
 The truce will in two hours expire. I muft 
 Prepare me for the fad, the folemn talk 
 Imperious duty has impos'd upon me. 
 'Tis time the men afcend th' embattled walls, 
 In a6l to hurl the arrowy war below. - 
 
 DONALDSON. 
 
 I left the men affembling in the fqnare. 
 
 SIR
 
 48 THE SIEGE 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER. 
 
 Oh ! wou'd that, with the fafety of this town, 
 
 Which to my latefl moment I'll defend, 
 
 I might include the fafety of my children. [Exit. 
 
 I 
 
 SCENE, the Enemy's Camp. 
 
 Enter ETHELBERTA and ANSELM. 
 
 SENTINEL to ETHELBERTA. 
 Arreft your daring footfteps ! 
 
 ETHELBERTA. 
 
 Your uplifted 
 
 Weapon frights not her, to whofe misfortunes 
 Death were welcome. I am Ethelberta. 
 
 ( The Sentinel retiirns the 
 fabre into the fcabbard . ) 
 Haply in fome far diftant hamlet fits 
 Your mother brooding o'er your abfence, all 
 In tears : Oh ! think of her, and lead me to 
 My fons. 
 
 SENTINEL. 
 
 Beneath yon tent the captive youths 
 Abide. 
 
 9 ETHEL-
 
 OF BERWICK. 49 
 
 ETHELBERTA. 
 
 Inform your General, that the wretched 
 Ethelberta humbly begs an audience. 
 
 \_Exit Sentinel. 
 
 (As ETHELBERTA and ANSELM 
 approach the tent ARCHIBALD 
 and VALENTINE rujh out.) 
 
 ETHELBERTA. 
 
 Marvel not at my appearance, my bleeding 
 Bofom demanded this fad interview. 
 
 ARCHIBALD. 
 
 We're ever bound to you for this new proof 
 Of your affection. 
 
 VALENTINE. 
 
 Have you feen the General ? 
 
 ETHELBERTA. 
 I've afk'd a conference I wait the anfwer. 
 
 VALENTINE. 
 
 Be fure you let him know that we did not 
 Urge or prompt you to demand an audience. 
 
 ETHELBERTA. 
 
 Is it then criminal in me to own 
 A Mother's feelings ? 
 
 H ARCHI-
 
 50 THE SIEGE 
 
 ARCHIBALD. 
 
 It is beneath the dignity 
 Of Ethelberta to confer with him. 
 
 ETHELBERTA. 
 
 Say, what dignity belongs to a wretch 
 Like me ? 
 
 VALENTINE. 
 
 His ear is fteel'd againft compaffion, 
 Nor do we wifh to live. 
 
 ETHELBERTA. 
 
 Why, Valentine, 
 
 This contempt of life ? would you not live to 
 Save me from diflraction ? Is the cruelty 
 That breathes within the General's tent 
 Contagious ? are my children grown infenfible 
 To their afflicted mother ? 
 
 VALENTINE (Embracing her knees.) 
 
 Think not fo 
 Unjuftly of us. 
 
 ETHELBERTA. 
 
 Oh ! I think you both 
 Love me, or I fhou'd wifh to be the duft 
 Beneath your feet 
 
 Enter
 
 OF BERWICK. 51 
 
 Enter an OFFICER. 
 OFFICER. 
 
 The General now in council 
 Waits your attendance. 
 
 \_Exeunt ETHELBERTA, ANSELM, 
 and OFFICER. 
 
 VALENTINE. 
 
 Sooner would the fea-cliff 
 Stoop to the finking mariner, than will 
 The tyrant bend to her imploring voice ; 
 I mean his mercy will not reach us both. 
 What if Ethelberta fhou'd return, and 
 Bring with her commands for your releafement ? 
 
 ARCHIBALD. 
 
 I wou'd rejecl; the defpicable mercy. 
 Has not our mutual vow to Heav'n afcended ? 
 Yes, brother, both muft be releas'd, or both 
 Confign'd to death ! 
 
 Enter OFFICER. 
 OFFICER. 
 
 The General bids me lead 
 You to the fatal fpot, with orders that 
 You mould immediately be faften'd to 
 The fummit of the pillars. 
 
 H 2 ARCHI-
 
 52 THE SIEGE 
 
 ARCHIBALD and VALENTINE. 
 
 We obey. [Exeunt. 
 
 S C E N E. The place where pillars are erected', 
 men with ropes, fc. 
 
 FIRST MAN. 
 
 I relifh not this barb'rous employment ; 
 
 It pains me to behold thefe ligaments, 
 
 With which we foon muft bind the valiant youths. 
 
 SECOND MAN. 
 
 'Tis faid the Mother now is with the General, 
 Imploring for her fons. 
 
 FIRST MAN. 
 
 I fear in vain ! 
 Behold, they now approach. 
 
 Enter ARCHIBALD, VALENTINE, OFFICER 
 and SOLDIERS. 
 
 With great reluctance 
 Do I perform this office. 
 
 ARCHIBALD. 
 
 My good friend, 
 Difcharge your duty: leave the reft to Heaven ! 
 
 ETHELBERTA, behind thefcenes. 
 
 Lead, lead me to thofe dear unfortunate fons. 
 
 Enter
 
 OF BERWICK. 53 
 
 Enter ETHELBERTA and ANSELM. 
 
 ETHELBERTA. 
 
 Inhuman wretches ! check your dreadful office, 
 This fight appals me. 
 
 ARCHIBALD. 
 
 Still, oh ftill be comforted ! 
 We fuffer more for your fake than our own. 
 
 ETHELBERTA. 
 
 Was it for this I rear'd you with fuch care ? 
 Was it for this I watch'd your waking virtues, 
 And kindled at the dawn of your celeftial mind ? 
 
 VALENTINE. 
 
 We were born to die. 
 
 ETHELBERTA. 
 
 Had gradual illnefs 
 Stol'n on you as ye faded in my arms, 
 Or had ye fall'n in battle, then I fhou'd, 
 Like many, many more unfortunate mothers, 
 Have mournfully submitted ; but this outrage, 
 This indignity 
 
 VALENTINE. 
 
 Affecls me not, I am 
 Proud to fall in fuch a caufe. 
 
 ETHEL-
 
 54 THE SIEGE 
 
 ETHELBERTA, to ANSELM. 
 
 Did I not 
 
 Fall at the tyrant's feet ; did I not bathe 
 Them with my tears ? Like the unheeding rock 
 H'e flood unmov'd. The ftranger Pity knew not 
 The dark avenue to his heart. 
 
 ANSELM. 
 
 The king of terrors, 
 Death, comes like a friendly angel 
 In a noble caufe. 
 
 ARCHIBALD. 
 
 'Tis as the holy 
 
 Father fays. The caufe for which we die brightens 
 The darken'd hour: it is the caufe that dignifies 
 Thofe ignominious inftruments ; that turns 
 Thefe fatal pillars into pyramids 
 Proclaiming our eternal fame. 
 
 ETHELBERTA. 
 
 Who would 
 
 Not glory in fuch children ? Yes, ye are 
 My boaft, my honour, my delight. I firft led 
 Your infant footfteps to the path of virtue : 
 Indulge the fond idea, haply this 
 Sublime enthufiafm flows from me. 
 
 Speak ever thus, and be the Heroine 
 Of this conflicting hour.
 
 OF BERWICK. 55 
 
 ARCHIBALD. 
 
 Methought ! as thus 
 
 You fpoke, a current of new ardour gufh'd 
 Upon my throbbing heart. 
 
 ETHELBERTA. 
 
 Be not deceiv'd, 
 
 The momentary gleam of triumph 's paft ; 
 To glory's touch fucceeds tormenting fear, 
 And Nature gives me up to grief again. 
 
 Enter OFFICER. 
 
 OFFICER. 
 The General bids me urge you to retire. 
 
 ETHELBERTA. 
 
 Does he prohibit this fhort interview ? 
 This laft dear horror of a fad farewell ? 
 
 (Leans overpower d upon ANSELM.) 
 
 OFFICER. 
 
 The General alfo fays, that one of thefe 
 Youths may return, and that the choice remains 
 With you. 
 
 ETHELBERTA (fuddenly raifeng up her head. ) 
 
 Ah ! were I to abfolve the life 
 
 Of
 
 56 THE SIEGE 
 
 Of one, fay by that a6l fhould I not condemn 
 The other to the fate that threatens him ? 
 
 OFFICER. 
 
 Reflect, that by thefe means you will prevent 
 Th' entire extinction of your name. 
 
 ETHELBERTA. 
 
 Your reafoning 
 
 Touches not a mother's breaft. While I behold 
 
 My fons as now they ftand before me, and 
 Recal their virtues, their invariable 
 Affection tow'rds their mother, and the concord 
 Of their congenial minds, the interweaving 
 Harmony of colouring, that compofes 
 The texture of their mutual life, my heart 
 Blends, and unites the two, and my fond eyes 
 Behold but one dear fon ! 
 
 (ARCHIBALD and VALENTINE 
 throw themfelves at her feet, while 
 ETHELBERTA Jiangs over them.) 
 
 ARCHIBALD (rifing.) 
 
 Kind, pitying father, 
 We intruft her to your care : Oh comfort her ! 
 
 ANSELM. 
 
 Mark this hallow'd fymbol of our dread belief: 
 
 ^(Holding up the crofs that 
 hangs at his Jide. ) 
 
 By
 
 OF BERWICK. 57 
 
 By this I fwear I will adminifter 
 To her relief, and wait upon her forrow, 
 And fhed upon the feft'ring wound of grief 
 That Gilead balm, Religion only can 
 Supply : from thence alone can comfort flow. 
 
 ETHELBERTA. 
 
 Who talks of comfort ? Say, will not thefe pillars 
 Rife to my mind in every place, to frighten 
 Comfort from me ? In fuch a ftate, comfort 
 Wou'd be impiety, leave, leave me with 
 Defpair. Oh! would to Heav'n that in this conflict 
 Of life and forrow, forrow might prevail, 
 That I might fall death-fmitten on this fpot, 
 And in one grave be buried with my fons ! 
 
 OFFICER. 
 
 The time expires, the truce will fhortly end, 
 The war will be renew'd, and from yon town 
 The arrows then will fly. 
 
 ETHELBERTA. 
 
 To pierce my children 
 Tort' ring madnefs harbours in the thought. 
 
 OFFICER. 
 
 That devious path-way leads not to the town. 
 
 ETHELBERTA. 
 
 Forgive, I was a moment fcarce myfelf, 
 
 I And
 
 58 THE SIEGE 
 
 And ftill a dimnefs hangs acrofs my fight. 
 Where are my fons ? (they go up to her.) 
 
 Forbear, forbear to weep, 
 I fee my prefence but enfeebles them : 
 Tis cruelty to linger, then refolv'd 
 I tear myfelf away. Oh ! God of mercy, 
 Spread o'er my children thy protecting fhield ! 
 
 [Exit with ANSELM. 
 
 End of the T H I R D A C T. 
 
 ACT
 
 OF BERWICK. 59 
 
 ACT THE FOURTH. 
 
 
 
 S C E N E. The Archers mounted on the walls, 
 expecting the word of command. 
 
 Enter SIR ALEXANDER, JULIANA, DONALDSON. 
 SIR ALEXANDER,/;? DONALDSON. 
 
 ' I V O your command do I entruft thofe archers ; 
 
 A I'll thro' the fub terraneous paffage with 
 A chofen number iffue on the plain ! 
 My bofom burns to meet the tyrant, and 
 Provoke him to a fmgle combat. How 
 Is he diftinguifh'd ? 
 
 DONALDSON. 
 
 A bright fcarlet mantle 
 Floats around his armour. 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER. 
 
 The impulfe of an 
 I 2 Injur'd
 
 60 THE SIEGE 
 
 Injur'd Father will add vigor to this arm, 
 But Ethelberta is not yet return'd. 
 
 DONALDSON. 
 
 Her vifit to the camp furprizes me. 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER. 
 
 It moves not my furprize, for when th' affections 
 Of her foul are rous'd, no fear, no danger 
 
 JULIANA. 
 
 She comes mark how her tortur'd mind fpeaks 
 
 thro' 
 Th' expreffive eye. 
 
 Enter ETHELBERTA and ANSELM. 
 
 ETHELBERTA. 
 
 I've fpoke in vain. 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER. 
 
 I do 
 
 Not yet believe he will proceed to fuch 
 Extreme barbarity. 
 
 ETHELBERTA. 
 
 I faw the pillars, 
 
 I faw the men with chains and inftruments 
 Prepar'd. Ere now your fons are bound to the 
 Lofty pillars with their bofoms bare, to catch 
 The arrows which thefe men are now in act 
 
 To
 
 OF BERWICK. 61 
 
 To fhoot, and only wait your terrible 
 Command. 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER. 
 
 f 
 
 Ah ! leave me then to my dread duty. 
 Retire, Retire ! The truce is juft expiring. 
 The trembling fands have almoft 
 Run their hour. 
 
 ETHELBERTA, kneeling. 
 
 See at your feet the Mother of your children, 
 Who thro' th' unvaried courfe of long attachment 
 Has fhewn (he's not unworthy of your choice. 
 Oh ! how I glory'd in that day, when firft 
 You call'd me yours ! and do I live to curfe 
 That day? 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER. 
 
 Rife, Ethelberta, ceafe entreating 
 Awake each virtue that furrounds your heart ! 
 Elevate your mind, and dare to meet the 
 Approaching trial ; think that now you ftand 
 As in a folemn temple, and forbear 
 With vain complaining accents to difturb 
 The awful fervice that is now beginning. 
 
 ETHELBERTA. 
 
 Thefe proud exalted fentiments fuit well 
 
 The breaft that 's fed with glory's turgid vapour : 
 
 My fimple heart feels nothing but affection. 
 
 SIR
 
 62 THE SIEGE 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER. 
 Would'ft have me be a traitor to my country ? 
 
 ETHELBERTA. 
 
 Dar'ft thou affume the facred name of Father, 
 And can'ft thou unappall'd behold that fcene ? 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER. 
 
 The voice that dares diffuade me from my duty 
 
 Is to my carelefs ear an empty found. 
 
 Mark me, Ethelberta! I'll not difgrace 
 
 The fchool of war in which I have been train'd : 
 
 My parting foul fhall fly unfullied 
 
 I nto the bofom of my anceftry, 
 
 And at my death my honour be convey'd 
 
 Immaculate, into the afhes of 
 
 My grave ! 
 
 DONALDSON (taking up the hour-glafs.) 
 
 The laft remaining fands are haft'ning fail 
 Away. 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER. 
 
 Now bid the archers draw their 
 Bows. 
 
 ETHELBERTA. 
 
 One moment yet delay, one moment. 
 
 SIR
 
 OF BERWICK, 63 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER. 
 
 Ring out th' alarm-bell. 
 
 (ETHELBERTA faints, and is 
 carried out by JULIANA 
 and ANS.ELM.) 
 
 The be/iegers fcale the walls, and are repulfed, 
 and purfued ; the fcene then changes to the 
 place where the pillars are erected, where 
 Sir ALEXANDER meets the General. 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER. 
 
 Well met I my childrens' blood cries out revenge ! 
 New youthful vigor gufhes on my breaft, 
 And vengeance, like th' exterminating angel, 
 Rides on this fword. 
 
 (They fight, the General falls ) 
 
 Enter ETHELBERTA. 
 
 Your fons are now aveng'd : 
 See, Ethelberta, where the monfter lies ! 
 
 ETHELBERTA. 
 
 'Tis nobly done, now thou'rt indeed a Father : 
 But gaudy exultation ill becomes us, 
 The dreaded pillars we have not furvey'd, 
 I'll haften to the fpot, and dare th' event. 
 
 (they go to the pillars.) 
 No children meet thefe fond enquiring eyes. 
 
 6 SIR
 
 64 THE SIEGE 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER. 
 It feems as he relented of his purpofe. 
 
 ETHELBERTA. 
 
 My heart prefageful fcorns the flatt'ring hope : 
 Mark how the pillars are o'erfpread with arrows, 
 And fome that ftrew the ground are ftain'd with 
 blood. ( Takes up one, and advances 
 
 towards the ft age.) 
 This dread informer tells a horrid tale 
 
 (Shouts at a diftance.) 
 Whence that tumultuous noife ? 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER. 
 
 Haply my valiant 
 Men are now returning from their victory. 
 
 ETHELBERTA. 
 
 What's victory to me without my fons ? 
 
 (Nearer Jliouts ; then the 
 troops enter, owf/z ARCHI- 
 BALD and VALEN- 
 TINE.) 
 
 Tranfporting fight ! I'm well repaid for all 
 The heart-pangs of this agonizing day. 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER. 
 
 How did ye efcape the flight of arrows 
 That wing'd from yonder lofty battlements ? 
 
 ARCHI-
 
 OF BERWICK. 65 
 
 ARCHIBALD. 
 
 Chain'd to the pillars, to our doom refign'd, 
 We faw the angry weapons fly around. 
 
 VALENTINE. 
 
 Yet then, beneath the fpreading canopy 
 Of danger, ftill did we remain untouch'd. 
 
 ETHELBERTA. 
 
 Some hov'ring angel, with benignant hand, 
 Averted from your breaft the crowding darts. 
 Yet tell me all ! Oh ! fay, by what blefs'd means 
 Am I become the happieft of mothers ? 
 
 VALENTINE. 
 
 As the enemy retreated from the walls, 
 
 Orders were iffued (fhou'd we be alive) 
 
 To drag us back again in chains as captives ; 
 
 But our bold troops, with hafty ftep advancing, 
 
 By the refiftlefs effort of Donaldfon 
 
 We are reftor'd to fafety and to you. 
 
 ETHELBERTA to DONALDSON. 
 
 Take, take a mother's thanks : this gallant deed 
 Of thine, brave youth, yes, it is here engrav'd 
 Deep in the laft receffes of my heart. 
 
 SIR ALEXANDER. 
 
 Thanks to my fons, my matchlefs fons, who on 
 
 K This
 
 66 THE SIEGE, &c. 
 
 This memorable day have pour'd frefh luftre 
 On our name and on our country. Dear boys. 
 Oblivion's gulph fhall ne'er entomb your ftory, 
 While hiftory, to time's remoteft bound, 
 Her ftream majeftic fhall thro' ages roll : 
 Like kindred flowers that on one ftem arife, 
 You on her margin fhall for ever glow. 
 
 \_Exeunt. 
 
 End of the FOURTH and LAST ACT.
 
 The EPILOGUE. 
 
 WRITTEN BY THE AUTHOR, AND 
 SPOKEN BY MRS. POPE. 
 
 /I S now I come unarm 'd, without a dart, 
 
 I fear I can't prefume to touch your heart ; 
 But your indulgence, herefo of ten found, 
 Has on my heart, at leajl, impreft a wound ; 
 A f acred wound ! which I am proud to feel, 
 Which, if I know my f elf, will never heal. 
 
 Methinks I hear you fay, Dear Mrs. POPE, 
 Amidft what mould' ring Annals did you grope, 
 And dig, from out the mine of tragic ore, 
 A tale unfaJJiion d from the days of yore 
 Where two wild Boys take fuch prodigious pains, 
 And are determined to be hung in chqins 9 
 
 Goes your complaint to this ? that we difplay 
 A tale unfuited to the modern day f 
 Does this f am d IJland then produce no more 
 The bright atchievements of the days of yore ? 
 Avert the thought l^ftill ancient Glory tow'rs, 
 And warm heroic Virtue Jlill is ours / 
 Evn here, as I the martial theme purfue, 
 Full many a mother rifes to my view, 
 Whofe ardent Sons dome/lie comforts fly, 
 To fee k ttt advancing Foe with kindling eye, 
 
 And,
 
 ( 68 ) 
 
 And, braving the full force of hoftile pozv'r, 
 Add to their Country's wreath another flow V. 
 
 Noftation, titles, here exemption claim ; 
 All feel alike the fympathetic flame : 
 E'en SHE whofe life adds fplendour to a Throne, 
 Whom ev'ry Briti/k heart delights to own 
 E'en SHE beholds her brave undaunted SON, 
 In early youth, the path of danger run ! 
 
 Happy the realm, in this conviiljive Age, 
 Whofe tragic fcenes are only on the Stage ! 
 Calamity extends her wither d hand, 
 And drags her harrow o'er a neighb'ring Land ; 
 While you, reclin d beneath afofterfway, 
 Bafk and enjoy a bright unclouded day. 
 
 Deprefs'd by civic Jlorms, deform d with woes, 
 Stung by the pangs of agonizing throes, 
 A Nation falls. 'Tis yours to ftill the florm, 
 To raife with gerirous arm her bleeding form, 
 To foot he herJJiame, admini/ler relief, 
 To clofe the guJJiing artery of grief , 
 To cafl a veil o'er each difgraceful feam, 
 And once more lift her to her own efteem. 
 
 This Godlike al, which is referv d for you, 
 With glowing zeal and confidence purfue : 
 This act from future times JJiall homage claim, 
 Extend your worth, and confecrate your fame !