A TRAGEDY
19
ROSA.
See, there he comes unwarn'd, and with him too
His noble lady.
(Retiring to the bottom of the stage.)
LOCHTARISH.
With boyish fondness!
GLENFADDEN.
How fair she is! how winning!—See that form;
Those limbs beneath their foldy vestments moving,
As though in mountain clouds they robed were,
And music of the air their motion measur'd.
LOCHTARISH.
Thou hither sent'st this jewel of thy race.
A host of Campbells, each a chosen man,
Could not enthral us, as, too soon I fear,
This single Campbell will. Shrewd crafty foe!
BENLORA.
But I will thwart him, crafty though he be!