And what think ye, Sir Alexander! The English camp is a' in
a bleeze, and there they are fleeing awa helter-skelter, leaving
everything behind them.
_Sir Alex_.--What! they fly too!--thank Heaven! thank Heaven!
My cup of joy o'erflows, and floods my heart
More than my griefs!
_Richard_.--'Tis true, my father--
To this, our unknown saviour, do we owe
Our life and yours!--'twas he, too, seized the torch,
And bid the bonfire blaze to Scotland's freedom.
_Sir Alex_.--Forgive me, reverend stranger, if that I,
In the delirium of a parent's joy,
O'erlooked the hand that saved me:
Kneel, my sons,
And with your father, at this stranger's feet,
Pour out your thanks, and beg his blessing also.
_[They kneel around the supposed friar, who casts off the
disguise, and is discovered to be their mother_.
_Lady Seton_.--A _mother_, in her children's cause, fears nothing,
And needs not _thanks_--
A _woman_, in her _country's cause_,
Can dare what man dare! [_They start up._
_Sir Alex_.--What! my Matilda!
_Richard_.--My mother!
_Henry_.--Ha! my mother!
_Lady Seton_.--Joy, joy, my sons; your mother's done her duty!
And joy, my husband, we have saved our _honour_.
_Sir Alex_.--Matilda, thou hast ta'en my heart anew,
And with it, too, my words!
_Provost Ramsay_.
Pages:
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162