the fast firm bond of mutual love.

_Raby._ Now, by my fears, thy husband told me truth.

_Elw._ If he has told thee, that thy only child
Was forc'd a helpless victim to the altar,
Torn from his arms who had her virgin heart,
And forc'd to make false vows to one she hated,
Then I confess that he has told the truth.

_Raby._ Her words are barbed arrows in my heart.
But 'tis too late. [_aside._] Thou hast appointed Harcourt
To see thee here by stealth in Douglas' absence?

_Elw._ No, by my life, nor knew I till this moment
That Harcourt was return'd. Was it for this
I taught my heart to struggle with its feelings?
Was it for this I bore my wrongs in silence?
When the fond ties of early love were broken,
Did my weak soul break out in fond complaints?
Did I reproach thee? Did I call thee cruel?
No--I endur'd it all; and wearied Heaven
To bless the father who destroy'd my peace.

_Enter Messenger._

_Mes._ My lord, a knight, Sir Hubert as I think,
But newly landed from the holy wars,
Entreats admittance.

_Raby._ Let the warrior enter. [_exit Messenger._
All private interests sink at his approach;
All selfish cares be for a moment banish'd;
I've now no child, no kindred but my country.

_Elw._ Weak heart, be still, for what hast thou to fear?

_Enter Sir Hubert._

_Raby._ Welcome, thou gallant knight! Sir Hubert, welcome!
Welcome to Raby Castle!--In one word,
Is the king safe? Is Palestine subdu'd?

_Sir H._ The king is safe, and Palestine subdu'd.

_Raby._ Blest be the God of armies! Now, Sir Hubert,
By all the saints, thou'rt a right noble knight!
O why was I too old for this crusade!
I think it would have made me young again,
Could I, like thee, have seen the hated crescent
Yield to the Christian cross.--How now, Elwina!
What! cold at news which might awake the dead?
If there's a drop in thy degenerate veins
That glows not now, thou art not Raby's daughter.
It is religion's cause, the cause of Heaven!

_Elw._ When policy assumes religion's name,
And wears the sanctimonious garb of faith
Only to colour fraud, and license murder,
War then is tenfold guilt.

_Raby._ Blaspheming girl!

_Elw._ 'Tis not the crosier, nor the pontiff's robe,
The saintly look, nor elevated eye,
Nor Palestine destroy'd, nor Jordan's banks
Deluged with blood of slaughter'd infidels;
No, nor the extinction of the eastern world,
Nor all the mad, pernicious, bigot rage
Of your crusades, can bribe that Power who sees