The Vampire
Lady Margaret: Hold! Hold! I am thine;-- the moon has set.
Act II. Scene 4.

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THE VAMPIRE

OR, THE BRIDE OF THE ISLES:

A ROMANTIC MELO-DRAMA,

En Two Acts,

BY J. R. PLANCHE

Author of Charles the XII, The Merchant's Wedding, A Woman Never Vext, The Mason of Buda, The Brigand, A Daughter to Marry, &c.

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PRINTED FROM THE ACTING COPY, WITH REMARKS, BIOGRAPHICAL AND CRITICAL, BY D--G.

To which are added,

A DESCRIPTION OF THE COSTUME, -- CAST OF THE CHARACTERS, ENTRANCES AND EXITS, -- RELATIVE POSITIONS OF THE PERFORMERS ON THE STAGE, -- AND THE WHOLE OF THE STAGE BUSINESS.

As performed at the

THEATRES ROYAL, LONDON.

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EMBELLISHED WITH A FINE ENGRAVING
By MR. BONNER, from a Drawing taken in the Theatre, by
Mr. R, CRUIKSHANK

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LONDON:

JOHN CUMBERLAND, 6, BRECKNOCK PLACE,
CAMDEN NEW TOWN.

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INTRODUCTORY VISION.

The Curtain rises to slow Music, and discovers the Interior of the Basaltic Caverns of Staffa -- at the extremity of which is a chasm opening to the air -- the moonlight streams through it, and partially reveals a number of rude sepulchres. -- On one of these, R.S.E., LADY MARGARET is seen, stretched in a heavy slumber. -- The Spirit of the Flood rises through the ground c., to the symphony of the following Incantation.

	INCANTATION. SOLO.-- UNDA.
	Spirit! Spirit of the Air!
	Hear and heed my spell of power;
	On the night breeze swift repair
	Hither from thy starry bower
Chorus. [Without, L.]	Appear! appear!
Unda	By the sun that hath set,
	In the waves I love
	By the spheres that have met
	In the heavens above
	By the latest dews
	That fall to earth
	On the eve that renews
	The fair moon's birth.
Chorus. [ Without, L.]	Appear! appear!
	QUARTETTO.
	By the charm of might and the word of fear,
	Which must never be breath'd to mortal ear,
	Spirit! Spirit of the Air,
	Hither at my call repair!

Music-- THE SPIRIT OF THE AIR descends through the chasm, on a silvery cloud, which she leaves and advances, L.

Ariel. Why, how now, sister? wherefore am I summoned?
What in the deep and fearful caves of Staffa
Demands our presence or protection?-- Speak!

Unda. Spirit of Air! thy sister Unda claims
Thy powerful aid; not idly from thy blue
And star-illumin'd mansion art thou call'd
To Fingal's rocky sepulchre -- look here.

Unda. Attend thee, Ariel.
Her name is Margaret, the only daughter
Of Ronald, the brave Baron of the Isles.
A richer, lovelier, more virtuous lady
This land of flood and mountains never boasted.
To-morrow Marsden's Earl will claim her hand,
Renown'd through Europe for his large possessions,
His clerkly knowledge, and his deeds of arms.

Ariel. How came she in this den of death and horror?

Unda. Chasing the red-deer with her father, Ronald,
A storm arose; and, parted from her train,
She sought a shelter here-- calmly she sleeps,
Nor dreams to-morrow's hymeneal rites
Will give her beauties to a vampire's arms.

Ariel. A vampire, say'st thou? -- Is then Marsden's Earl --

Unda. Thou knowest, Ariel, that wicked souls
Are, for wise purposes, permitted oft
To enter the dead forms of other men,
Assume their speech, their habits, and their knowledge,
And thus roam o'er the earth; but subject still
At stated periods, to a dreadful tribute.

Ariel. Ay, they must wed some fair and virtuous maiden,
Whom they do after kill, and from her veins
Drain eagerly the purple stream of life;
Which horrid draught alone hath pow'r to save them
From swift extermination.

Unda. Yes- that state
Of nothingness -- total annihilation!
The most tremendous punishment of heaven,
Their torture then being without resource,
They do enjoy all power in the present,
Death binds them not -- from form to form they fleet,
And though the cheek be pale, and glaz'd the eye,
Such is their wond'rous art, the hapless victim
Blindly adores, and drops into their grasp,
Like birds when gaz'd on by the basilisk.

Ariel. Say on.

Unda. Beneath this stone the relics lie
Of Cromal, called the Bloody. Staffa still
His reign of fear remembers. For his crimes,
His spirit roams, a vampire, in the form
Of Marsden's Earl; -- to count his victims o'er,
Would be an endless task-- suffice to say,
His race of terror will to-morrow end,
Unless he wins some virgin for his prey,
Ere sets the full-orb'd moon.

Ariel. And with this view
He weds the Lady Margaret.

Unda. Ay, Ariel;
Unless our blended art can save the maid.

Ariel. What can be done? our power is limited.
What can be done, my sister?

Unda. We must warn
The maiden of her fate. Lend me thine aid,
To raise a vision to her sleeping sight.

Ariel. Let us about it.

[They perform magical ceremonies to the symphony of the following charm.

CHARM.	-- ARIEL and UNDA, L.
Phantom, from thy tomb so drear,
	At our bidding swift arise;
Let thy vampire-corpse appear
	To this sleeping maiden's eyes.
Come away! come away!
	That the form she may know
	That would work her woe
And shun thee, till the setting ray
Of the moon shall bid thy pow'r decay;
	Phantom, from thy tomb so drear
	At our bidding rise!-- appear!	[Thunder.
CHORUS, without, L.-- ARIEL and UNDA. Appear! appear! appear!

[The Vampire rises from the tomb of Cromal, and springs towards Margaret.

Vam. Margaret!

Ariel. Foul spirit, retire!

Vam. She is mine!

Ariel. The hour is not yet come.

Unda. Down, thou foul spirit;-- extermination waits thee:
Down, I say.

[Music.-- The Vampire shuddering, sinks again into the tomb, and the scene closes

CHORUS.
TUNE	-- "Johnny Cope."
Come, fill-- let the parting glass go round;
With a stirrup-cup, be our revelry crown'd;
See, the sun that set to our bugles' sound
	Is changing the night into morning.
As darkness shrinks from his rising ray,
So sorrow and care will we keep at bay,
By the howl at night and the " Hark away,"
	That awakes us, brave boys, in the morning.
		[They all rise-- McSwill hides under the table.

Bridget. [Calling without.] M^cSwill!

Bri. Very pretty doings, upon my word! Here's our poor mistress, the Lady Margaret, been lost for nearly the whole night in the forest; and no sooner is she by good fortune found again, and trying to get a little rest in her own apartments, but you make all this noise, as if on purpose to disturb her.

Rob. Nay, Mrs. Bridget, don't be angry with them. They've been celebrating my lady's return.

Bri. Return! Don't tell me. -- They never want an excuse to get drunk; out of the castle directly, -- don't stand ducking and scraping there; go along directly when I tell you! [Exeunt Retainers, L.] Where is that rascal, M^cSwill? He's at the bottom of all this! But if I -- [M^cSwill attempts to steal off, L.] Oh, oh, there you are, sir; come here, sir! [Seizes him by the ear, and brings him forward.] Down on your knees directly, and ask my pardon.

M^cSwill. (C.) I do, Mrs. Bridget.

Bri. (R.) How came you under the table?

M^cSwill. What a question, when a man has been drinking all night.

Bri. Will you never leave off taking your drops?

M^cSwill. I don't take drops, Mrs. Bridget

Bri. Here has poor Robert been running through the forest all night, seeking my lady, and peeping into all the holes of the grotto, whilst you-

M^cSwill. The grotto, Mrs. Bridget! Good guide us! Why, you didn't go into the grotto, did you? [To Robert.

Rob. And why not, booby?

M^cSwill. Oh, dear! oh, dear! the ignorance of some people -- but you are an Englishman, and that accounts for it. Why, didn't you know that the grotto was haunted?

Rob. (L.) [Laughing.] Ha, ha, ha!

M^cSwill. Ay, ay, laugh away, do; but, I can tell you, it's full of kelpies and evil spirits of all sorts; only ask Mrs. Bridget.

Bri. It's very true, Robert; and you shouldn't laugh, for they always owe a grudge to anybody that jest about them.

M^cSwill. Did you never hear the story of Lady Blanch?

Bri. Hush! don't talk so loud.

M^cSwill. You know it, Mrs. Bridget.

Bri. No; but Lord Ronald is very angry with every body who circulates stories of that description; so, speak lower, if you are going to tell it.

M^cSwill. Well, then,-- once upon a time-

Rob. [Laughing.] Ha, ha, ha! Mother Bunch's fairytales.

M^cSwill. Well, isn't that the proper way to begin a story?

Bri. Go on.

M^cSwill. Once upon a time-

Rob. You've said that once twice.

M^cSwill. Will you be quiet with your fun. I won't tell it at all.

Rob. Well, well, then, once upon a time -- what happened?

M^cSwill. Once on a time, there lived a lady named Blanch, in this very castle, and she was betrothed to a rich Scotch nobleman; all the preparations for the wedding were finished, when, on the evening before it was to take place, the lovers strolled into the forest --

Bri. Alone?

M^cSwill. No: together to be sure.

Bri. Well, sot, I mean that; and I think it was highly improper. M^cSwill . Well, they were seen to enter the grotto, and --

Rob. And what?

M^cSwill. They never came out again.

Rob. Bravo! an excellent story!

M^cSwill. But that isn't all. The next morning the body of the lady was found covered with blood, and the marks of human teeth on her throat, but no trace of the nobleman could be discovered, and from that time to this he has never been heard of; and they do say, -- I hope nobody hears us, -- they do say that the nobleman was a vampire, for a friar afterwards confessed, on his death-bed, that he had privately married them in the morning by the nobleman's request, and that he fully believed it some fiend incarnate, for he could not say the responses without stuttering.

Rob. Better and better! and how came you by this precious legend?

M^cSwill. The great uncle of my grandfather had it from the great grandfather of the steward's cousin, by the mother's side, who lived with a branch of the family when the accident happened; and, moreover, I've heard my great uncle say, that these horrible spirits, called vampires, kill and suck the blood of beautiful young maidens, whom they are obliged to marry before they can destroy. And they do say that such is the condition of their existence, that if, at stated periods, they should fail to obtain a virgin bride, whose life-blood may sustain them, they would instantly perish. Oh, the beautiful young maidens! --

Bri. Of beautiful young, maidens? -- Merciful powers! what an escape I've had. I was in the cavern myself, one day.

M^cSwill. Lord, Mrs. Bridget, I'm sure there's no occasion for you to be frightened.

Bri. Why, you saucy sot, I've a great mind to -- [A bell rings, R.] I declare there's my lady's bell! -- no occasion, indeed -- an impudent fellow! But men, now-a-days, have no more manners than hogs.

M^cSwill. There's a she-devil for you! I don't think there's such another vixen in all Scotland. She's little and hot, like a pepper-corn. What a lug she gave me by the ear.

Rob. Nay, nay, you mustn't mind that; all old ladies have their odd ways.

M^cSwill. Curse such odd ways as that, though! I shall feel the pinch for a month. Pray, Mr. Robert, as you've been in London with Lord Ronald, do you know who this earl is that the Lady Margaret is to be married to?

Rob. I only know that he is the Earl of Marsden, and master of the castle on the coast facing this island.

M^cSwill. What, where the pretty Effie, your intended, lives?

Rob. Exactly.

M^cSwill. He'll arrive just in time, then, to be present at the wedding.

Rob. I hope so.

Rob. That will be glorious! Two weddings in one day -- such dancing, such eating, such drinking --

Bri. [Calling Without, R.] M^cSwill!

M^cSwill. Ugh, choak you, you old warlock! what's in the wind now, I wonder? [Crosses to R.

Bri. [Calling without, R.] M^cSwill, I say!

M^cSwill. Coming, Mrs. Bridget. [Exit M^cSwill, R.

Rob. Yes, as soon as the earl arrives, I shall certainly take an opportunity to request him to honour the wedding with his presence; how pleas'd my dear Effie would be. Charming girl, I shall never forget the hour when first we met.

Song. -- Robert
TUNE -- "The Lass of Patie's Mill."

The hour when first we met, my dear,
The hour when first we met,
I never can forget, my dear,
I never can forget.
So sweet on me those eyes were turn'd,
That beam thy cheek above, --
They look'd like lamps that only burn'd
To light the heart to love;
To light the heart to love, my dear,
To light the heart to love,--
They look'd like lamps that only burn'd
To light the heart to love.
And while they shine on me, my dear,
And while they shine on me,
I'll ne'er be false to thee, my dear,
I'll ne'er be false to thee,
Oh, never, never slight me, then,
Nor leave me, love, to say,
Like fires that glimmer o'er the fen,
They beam but to betray,
They beam, &c.

[Exit Robert, L.

Bri. Oh, my lady, you must not tell me! I'm sure the fright and the fatigue you have undergone have made you ill.

Lady M. Indeed, no; I feel quite recovered, I assure you, my good Bridget.

Bri. But I know better, my lady; that smile is not like your usual ones, something ails you.

Lady M. Something certainly troubles me, but my health is not affected. I would confide the cause of my uneasiness to you, but fear you will laugh at me when I tell you. It is a dream I have had.

Bri. A dream! For heaven's sake, tell me, my lady!

Lady M. A horrible one, Bridget. Last night, as I was endeavouring to join the hunters, from whom, in the hurry of the chase, I had been separated, I wandered near the famous basaltic caverns, to which the vulgar attach so many strange traditions. The storm grew violent. By the strong flashes of lightning I discovered the opening of the grotto, I entered it for shelter, and, overcome with fatigue, fell asleep upon one of the rocky tombs. On a sudden a sepulchre opened, and a phantom approached me. I trembled, but an invisible hand seemed to prevent my flight. I could not even turn mine eyes from the apparition. To my surprise the countenance was that of a young and handsome man, but it was pale and wo-worn. His eyes, fixed up mine with the most touching expression, seemed to implore my pity. He uttered my name, and had nearly reached me, when a beautiful being stood between us and checked his progress. Then, oh, horror! the features of the spectre grew frightfully distorted; its whole form assumed the most terrific appearance; and it sunk into the tomb from which it had issued, with a shriek that froze me.

Bri. Mercy preserve us! I tremble all over.

Lady M. I awoke. The moon stream'd into the grotto, and I sprung into the open air. I heard the voices of those who sought me. I answered them as loudly as I was able. With shouts of joy they surrounded me, and bore me safely hither.

Bri. I shall never sleep in peace again. Oh, my dear young lady!

Ron. [Without.] My daughter risen, say you?

Bri. But here comes your father; shall you tell him, my lady?

Lady M. Oh, no; he is such an enemy to what he calls superstition, that I dare not expose myself to his ridicule.

Ron. Well my dear daughter. What, up and dressed again, already. Come, this is a happy omen. Bridget, order my henchman to ascend the turrets of the keep, and give notice of the Earl of Marsden's approach. [Crosses, and exit Bridget.] This day, my dear Margaret, will be one of the happiest of my life. But, what's the matter? You appear sorrowful.

Lady M. Ah! my dear father, the description we have had of Marsden has been such certainly as should prejudice us in his favour, yet, the nearer the moment approaches of his arrival, the more I feel uneasy. Oh, sir my fate is (next to heaven) in your hands. Do not -- do not make your daughter miserable.

Lord R. Why this agitation, Margaret?-- I have never wished to force your inclination. I certainly desire his alliance most ardently; nevertheless, if you dislike him --

Lady M. I do not know that I shall. But you, sir, who wish me to accept him, do not know him personally.

Lord R. 'Tis true; but if he resembles his brother, you cannot fail to love him. Alas! poor Ruthven.

Lady M. You never mention his name but with a sigh.

Lord R. Is it possible I can ever cease to lament so dear a friend?

Lady M. I have heard you say he saved your life, and for that reason I revere his memory myself. But are you sure he no longer exists?

Lord R. Would that I could harbour a doubt on the subject; but, alas! the fatal scene of his death is ever present to my imagination. When called, as you know, by the sudden illness of my now lost son to Athens, I found Lord Ruthven, with whom he had contracted an intimacy, hanging over his sick couch, and bestowing on him the attentions of a brother. Such behaviour naturally endeared him to me; and after my poor boy's death, his lordship being, like myself, an enthusiastic admirer of the beauties of nature and the works of art, became the constant companion of my excursions. The more I saw of him, the more I admired his extraordinary talents. In my eyes he appeared something more than human, and seem'd destined to fill that place in my affections which had become void by my son's decease. I showed him your miniature -- never shall I forget his emotion on beholding it "By heavens!" he exclaimed "'tis the precise image my fancy has created as the only being who could ever constitute my happiness." We were on the point of returning to Scotland to learn your sentiments on the subject, when one evening -- but why should I afflict you with a repetition of so dreadful a story?

Lady M. Pray proceed, Sir. I sympathize in your afflictions, and feel a melancholy gratification in contemplating the devotedness and heroism which preserved to me so dear a father.

Ron. Returning to Athens, then, one evening, after a short excursion, we were attacked by some banditti. I was disarmed. Ruthven threw himself before me, and received the ruffian's sabre in his own breast. Our attendants, however, succeeded in overcoming the villains. I threw myself into the arms of my expiring friend -- he pressed my hand -- "Lord Ronald," said he " I have saved your life -- I die content-- my only regret is, that fate has prevented me from becoming your son." Gallant unfortunate Ruthven! what a destiny was thine, to fall in a foreign land, in the flower of thy youth, deprived of sepulchre.

Lady M. How! deprived of sepulchre!

Ron. An extraordinary circumstance prevented my fulfilling that last melancholy duty. In his dying agonies he conjured me to quit the spot, lest the assassins should return in number. The moon was rising in unclouded majesty. "Place me," said he, "on yonder mound, so that my fleeting spirit may be soothed by the soft and tranquil light of yon chaste luminary." I did so -- he expired -- I left the body to collect our servants, who were in pursuit of the defeated villains and, ere we could return to the spot, it had disappeared.

Lady M. Removed for plunder, doubtless?

Ron. I ne'er could ascertain. The stains of the grass sufficiently marked the spot where I had lain him, but all search was in vain. On quitting Greece, I heard Lord Marsden was in Venice. To him I sent his brother's property, and amidst it he found your picture, which, in my desire for his alliance, I had given Ruthven. The earl proposed immediately to replace the loss we had sustained in his brother, and nothing I am confident, remains to complete our happiness but his arrival.

Lady M. Why is not Ruthven living? -- Methinks I could have loved him for his preservation of you.

Bri. The earl has arrived, my lord.

Ron. Come, Margaret, let us haste and receive him.

Lady M. My dear sir, I cannot see him yet; indeed I cannot.

Ron. Retire, then, for a while to your apartment. Bridget, attend your lady.

Ron. I'll fly to meet the earl.-- Ha! he is here!

My lord, the honour you have done me! -- Heavens! what do I see?

Rut. Do I recall the memory of a friend, Lord Ronald?

Ron. His voice, too! -- Ruthven!

Rut. Such was my name till the death of an elder brother put me in possession of my present title.

Ron. Can I believe my senses? or does some vision mock my waking sight?

Rut. My dear friend, let this embrace banish your doubts.

Ron. Ruthven, my friend! But by what miracle have you been preserved to me?

Rut. Unexpected, but powerful assistance, recalled my fleeting spirit. When sufficiently recovered to join you, you had quitted Greece. The news of my brother's death reached me. I wrote to you under my new title, and, arriving in Scotland to take possession of my paternal estate, determined to give you this pleasurable surprise.

Ron. oh, happy hour! I once more embrace my friend. Be sure, Ruthven, that my daughter would only have become your brother's bride, to acquit me of the debt I owe to you.

Rut. My generous friend! But think you I shall be fortunate enough to gain the lovely Margaret's affections?

Ron. I cannot doubt it -- she has pitied your misfortunes -- she has wept over your fate. She comes. [Exeunt Attendants L.] What will be her astonishment --

My dear behold that generous friend, whose loss we have so long deplored. 'Tis Ruthven claims your hand.

Lady M. (R.) My lord, duty to a beloved parent will --

[She raises her eyes slowly to his countenance, starts and falls, with a shriek, info the arms of Lord Ronald.

Ron. Margaret! O, heavens! she is ill. Help there!

Lady M. [Shuddering, and aside.] That countenance. The phantom of last night! [Relapses into insensibility.

Rut. (L.) What can have occasioned this emotion?

Ron. Alas! I know not. Margaret, my sweet child!

Lady M. [Reviving.] Pardon, my lord, this weakness -- The effect of last night's adventure.

Rut. Last night!

Ron. We hunted late yesterday. My daughter lost her way, and suffered much fatigue.

Rut. Beautiful Lady Margaret, how am I to interpret this emotion?

Lady M. The surprise of seeing one whose death we were even now deploring.

Rut. Is it possible that, without knowing me, the recital of my misfortunes alone could thus have interested you?

Lady M. I am the daughter of Lord Ronald, and my heart, touched with gratitude-- [Aside.] I dare not look at him.

Rut. With gratitude ? -- and what will be my gratitude, if you but deign to approve your father's generous designs? [Crossing to her.] Tell me, oh, tell me, you confirm them, or never, never, will I rise from your feet. [Kneeling, and seizing her hand.

Lady M. [Aside.] Heavens! how strange a thrill runs through my frame.

Rut. [Aside] Then she's mine!

Lady M. These transports, my lord --

Rut. Must not alarm you. It is, in the presence of your father. It is at his desire I here vow my eternal fidelity. oh, my friend, join your supplications to mine.

Ron. (L.) My daughter is well aware of my wishes.

Rut. Speak, dearest lady, I conjure you.

Lady M. [Aside.] What spell is it that moves me thus? [Aloud.] My lord, my father has never yet found me disobedient to his will.

Rut. You consent, then?

Lady M. [To Lord Ronald.] My dear sir, allow me to retire.

Rut. Lady, dear lady --

Lady M. Pardon me, my lord; a strange confusion, a wild emotion overpowers me, let me retire.

Ron. Ruthven, the wish of my heart is gratified; you are my son.

Rut. Dearest sir, I have still a boon to ask. Let our marriage be celebrated without delay.

Ron. It is my intention, and to-morrow --

Rut. To-night, my friend; business of the utmost importance recalls me to London. To-morrow's dawn must witness our departure.

Ron. Impossible! Have you not to take possession of your estate?

Rut. It is but showing myself at the castle, from which I can return ere the sun sets this evening.

Ron. Well, if my daughter makes no objection, I will go plead your suit, and hear the reasons for your haste afterwards, I know not how you have infatuated me, Ruthven, but rest assured I feel for you all that a father's heart can feel.

Rut. [Walking about, agitated.] Demon as I am, that walks the earth to slaughter and devour! The little that remains of heart within this wizard frame, sustained alone by human blood, shrinks from the appalling act of planting misery in the bosom of this veteran chieftain. Still must the fearful sacrifice be made, and suddenly, for the approaching night will find my wretched frame exhausted -- and darkness -- worse than death -- annihilation is my lot! Margaret! unhappy maid! thou art my destined prey! thy blood must feed a vampire's life, and prove the food of his disgusting banquet.

Rob. My lord!

Rut. What would you?

Rob. I beg your lordship's pardon for my boldness, but I am a servant of Lord Ronald's, and would fain request your lordship's patronage.

Rut. In what respect?

Rob. I am betrothed, an please your lordship, to Effie, your steward's daughter; and as I hear it is your lordship's intention to visit your estate, I --

Rut. [Eagerly.] Betrothed, say you?

Rob. Yes, my lord.

Rut. And when is the marriage to take place?

Rob. This evening, my lord. Rut [Half aside.] I will be there.

Rob. Oh, my lord, I was afraid to ask you -- but your lordship has made me so happy.

Rut. What distance are we from the castle?

Rob. The sea is calm, my lord -- we may row there in a few minutes.

Rut. Order the barge instantly, then.

Rob. Yes, my lord.

Ron. All is arranged to your wishes.

Rut. [With joy.] Your daughter consents?

Ron. She does; and I have ordered the chapel to be prepared by our return.

Rut. You go to Marsden with me, then?

Ron. Certainly; your stay is so short, I will not leave you for a moment.

Rut. My dear friend, this kindness --

Rob. The barge is ready, my lord.

Rut. Away! away!

Effie (C.) What can be the reason Robert does not arrive?

And. (R.) Something has happened to detain him; he will be here soon.

Effie I see nothing like a boat at present.

And. [Looking off, L. U. E.] Why, what is that, to the right, there?

Effie Not a boat I'm sure, father.

And. But I say it is a boat; and making for the castle, too.

Effie Hark! father, hark!

[A boat is seen at sea, which gradually approaches, to the symphony of the following boat-song, sung without, L., and growing louder and louder as the boat nears the land.

	BOAT-SONG
	TUNE	-- "Ye Banks and Braes."
	Row on-- row on-- across the main,
		So smoothly glides our bark to shore;
	While to our boat-song's measur'd strain,
		So truly dips the well-tim'd oar.
	Row on-- row on-- in yonder isle,
		Impatient beauty chides our stay
	The head-land past her sweetest smile
		Our labour richly will repay.
	SOLO-- Effie
	TUNE	-- "There's nae Luck about the House."
	'Tis he-- 'tis he-- his form I see,
	Full soon he will be here,
	Then, neighbours, haste-- prepare the feast,
	The bonny lad to cheer.
	For there's nae luck about the house,
	There's nae luck at a';
	There's little pleasure in the house,
	When my dear lad's awa'.
Chorus.	There's nae luck ahout the house,
	There's nae luck at a';
	There's little pleasure in the house,
	When Robert's far awa'.

Effie (c.) My dear Robert --

Rob. (R. C.) My sweet Effie!

Effie What has kept you so long?

Rob. Oh, I've news for you. Lord Ronald has come with me, and who do you think beside, father-in-law?

And. Nay, I'm sure I can't guess.

Rob. Lord Ruthven.

And. Lord Ruthven! why, he has been dead these twelve months.

Rob. Has he?-- I believe you're mistaken, father-in-law. [Shouts L. C.] Do you hear that?

And. Pho! Pho! I tell you it must be some impostor.

And. (R.) Merciful Providence! it is my young master!

Rut. (C.) Yes, my good Andrew; behold me restored to you.

And. Thank heaven! thank heaven! But I could not believe that I should ever have the pleasure of seeing my dear master again.

Rut. I shall never forget your attachment to our family, and your attentions to their interest. Let me not interrupt your felicity -- you are about to celebrate a marriage, I think?

And. Yes, my lord. Here's my daughter, Effie, whom your lordship remembers a little girl.

Rut. She's very pretty.

Effie Yes, my lord -- that is, thank you, my lord.

Rut. You must allow me to give the bride her dowry, and patronize the whole ceremony.

And. Oh, my lord, this is such an honour. Well, then, before the dance commences, neighbours, let us go and arrange the supper-table, where we will drink our good lord's happy return.

Rob. Away with you, then.

Ron. I must leave you a moment, Ruthven, to give some directions to my bargemen.

Rob. (R.) [To Effie] Come, Effie, let's follow our neighbours.

Rut. (L.) [Detaining Effie] Fair Effie, I would speak with you.

Effie [With hesitation, C.] If Robert has no objection, my lord --

Rob. How, you silly girl, when his lordship does you so much honour. You'll find me with Andrew.

Rut. Come nearer, charming maid.

Effie My lord, I-- I dare not, my lord.

Rut. Fear nothing. [Aside.] Yet, she has cause to fear. Should I surprise her heart, as by my gifted spell I may, the tribute that prolongs existence may be paid and Margaret may (at least awhile) be spared. [To Effie,] How delightful 'tis to gaze upon thee thus! An atmosphere of joy is round about thee, which whosoever breathes, becomes thy slave.

Effie My Lord, what mean you?

Rut. My heart ne'er throbb'd but for one woman, and you have just her features. This morning the flame of love was extinguished in my soul; but now, now it burns with redoubled ardour.

Effie But the lady whom you admired, my lord-

Rut. She is dead

Effie Dead!

Rut. Yes, dead, Effie: but in you she lives again.

Effie What do I hear?

Rut. Oh, Effie, can you not conceive the happiness of once more beholding the object we adore.

Effie I shall never love any one but Robert.

Rut. Happy Robert, and unfortunate Ruthven! Why did I ever behold thee, Effie?

Effie See me no more my lord, if that has occasioned your uneasiness.

Rut. Stay! Effie, it is in your power to console me for all I have lost. Love me -- nay, start not; mine you must and shall be!

Effie My lord, I'll hear no more. If Robert --

Rut. Think not of him; the bridal preparations are complete; my bride thou art -- no power on earth shall tear thee from me! Say, Effie, that you love me.

Effie [Starting.] Mercy on me! My lord, I -- I know not what to say. My heart beats so that-- Oh, pray, leave me, my lord.

Rut. You weep: those tears are for me.

Effie No, no: indeed, my lord --

Rut. This instant let me bear thee to the priest.

Effie My lord, for pity's sake-

Rut. You plead in vain: Effie, thou art mine for ever!

Rob. How long she stays-- not here! Why -- [Effie shrieks] Heavens! what do I see -- borne off, and struggling. -- Villain! lose your hold!

[Draws a pistol. and runs after them, R. -- Stage gradually darkens.

Ron. Why, Andrew, said you not the Earl was here?

And. 'Twas here I left him but just now, my lord.

Effie [Shrieks without, R.] Oh, save me! save me!

And. My daughter's voice!

Ron. Ruthven!

Rut. [Falling, C.] I die!

Ron. What murderous hand--

Rut. Exclaim not, I have but a moment to live.-- Ronald, swear by the host of heaven to obey my last commands.

Ron. Young man, the word of Ronald needs no oath to bind it.

Rut. I die -- delay not a moment, but swear to--

Ron. I do, I do! -- I swear by all that is most dear and sacred to honour and to man, to fulfil your last desire.

Rut. Conceal my death from every human being till yonder moon, which now sails in her full splendour, shall be set this night; and, ere an hour shall elapse after I have expired, throw this ring into the waves that wash the tomb of Fingal.

Ron. I will, I will, Ruthven!-- Dear Ruthven!

Rut. Remember your oath. The lamp of night is descending the blue heavens; when I am dead, let its sweet light shine on me. Farewell -- Remember -- remember your oath.

[Dies -- solemn Music -- Ronald lays the body of Ruthven on a bank in the garden, R. U. E., and kneels mournfully beside it -- the moon continues descending, till the light falls full upon the corpse -- Ronald rises, crosses to L., and the curtain drops.

And. (L.) Here, Robert, you may rest concealed till Lord Ronald's anger shall have subsided; or, should he be deaf to explanation, and refuse to believe Lord Ruthven's treachery, arrangements shall be made to convey you over to the mainland. Here is sufficient provision for the short time I hope you will be forced to remain. And so now bid Effie good by for awhile; I'll look out, in the meantime, and see if the coast be clear for our return.

Rob. (R.) Come, cheer up, Effie,-- all will be well yet. It was in defence of innocence I fired, and, therefore, that act will never be a load on my conscience

Effie (C.) But, if Lord Ronald should get you into his power!

Rob. I will put it to Lord Ronald's self to say, whether a man should stand tamely by, and see the wife of his bosom dragged to misery and dishonour. Come, kiss me, Effie, and farewell till better times.

	DUETTO - Effie and Robert.
	TUNE	-- "Down	the Burn, Davie."
Rob.	Though vanish'd be the visions fair,
		By Fancy's pencil trac'd;
	And blighted all the blossoms rare,
		That hope's gay chaplet grac'd;
			Fear not my faith!
			The pang of death
		Alone can bid it flee.
	Then fare thee well, my only love!
	fare thee well, my only love!
	fare thee well, my only love!
		Thou'rt more than life to me
Both.	Fare thee well, &c.
Effie.	Though clouded now the prospect seem,
		Though grief usurp the hour,
	A light may break, a ray may beam,
		And joy resume its power.
	Enter ANDREW in the boat L. U. E.
Effie.			Fear not my faith!
			The pang of death
		Alone can bid it flee.
	Then fare thee well, my only love!
	fare thee well, my only love!
	fare thee well, my only love!
		Thou'rt more than life to me
Both.	Fare thee well, &c.

Rob. And now to find some hole for a bed-chamber. Rather sorry accommodations, I fancy; but the superstitions of the peasantry will keep them from disturbing my repose; and, as to other considerations, a man with a clear conscience may rest anywhere. [Looking.] Here's tolerable choice of apartments, as far as number goes: let me try what shelter this will afford.

MUSIC - A boat is seen, L. U. E., with Lord Ronald and two Attendants in it.-- Enter LORD RONALD, from the boat.

Ron. Give me the torch, and wait without the cave till you see me wave it thus. [Exeunt Attendants in the boat, L.] How solemn is this scene. [Places the torch in a fissure of the rock, L. S. E.] By heaven, my soul, that lately mock'd at superstition, is so subdued by circumstances, that I could almost bring myself to give faith to every legend I have scorn'd as idle. Here is the ring -- what am I about to do -- what horrible suspicion flashes across my brain! Ruthven, mysterious being! what mean these ceremonies? Before, when I supposed him dying, he bade me place his body in the light of the moon; and now again. And wherefore make me swear to conceal his death till the moon be set? -- But let me not reflect or pause. Unhappy Ruthven! thy friend performs his promise.

[Throws the ring into the water, C. -- a peal of thunder is heard, after which the voice of Ruthven, --

Ron. It is his spirit speaks! Ruthven, my friend, my preserver!

Rob. What voice was that? -- Lord Ronald!

Ron. Ha, by heaven, justice hath given the murderer to my vengeance [Draws.] Ruthven, this sacrifice I make to thee.

Rob. Hear me, my lord: Lord Ruthven would have wronged me.

Ron. Wouldst thou asperse the dead?-- Down, villain, down!

Rob. Nay, in my own defence, then -- [They fight -- Robert is disarmed -- Ronald plunges him into the waves R. U. E. -- Lord Ronald rushes to the entrance of the cavern, and waves the torch -- the boat approaches.

Ron. Ruthven, thou art revenged! Away! away!

[Ronald leaps into the boat, L. U. E. -- Robert reaches and clings to the rocks, R., and the scene closes.

Lady M. Bridget, I was looking for you; I am so happy.

Bri. Happy, my lady! and Lord Ruthven and your father not returned? I'm frightened out of my wits about them: 'tis ten o'clock, and they were to have been back again ere sunset.

Lady M. You may dispel your fears, then; Lord Ruthven has this moment announced to me my father's return.

Bri. Lord Ruthven!

Lady M. On opening the casement, just now, that looks into the garden, I saw him by the moonlight, crossing one of the walks. I call'd to him, and he will be here directly, that the ceremony may commence. We must depart for London ere daybreak.

Bri. So soon?

Lady M. Yes; he has explained the reason to me. The King of England wishes him to marry a lady of the court, and he has no other way of avoiding the match, but by presenting me immediately as his wife.

Bri. And here comes your father, I declare. Well, my lady, I'll away and see that everything is ready.

Lady M. I can hardly account for my sudden attachment to Lord Ruthven, especially after the shock his introduction gave me.

Lady M. Well, sir, is Ruthven coming?

Ron. Ruthven! Alas!--

Lady M. You sigh; what troubles you, my dear father?

Ron. Nothing. [Aside.] What shall I say to her?

Lady M. Every thing is prepared for the ceremony. Lord Ruthven has doubtless informed you of the pressing reason he has for our immediate departure: its suddenness at first alarm'd me; but, if you will accompany us, what a charming voyage -- You do not listen to me -- Why, father, what's the matter?

Ron. My dear Margaret, we must think no more of this union.

Lady M. Think no more of it! Have you not been yourself the cause, and do you now --

Ron. Question me not; I cannot answer you.

Lady M. Good heavens! and Ruthven who, not a moment ago, so warmly urged--

Ron. [Starting.] Ruthven, not a moment ago -- what mean you?

Lady M. You frighten me; but Ruthven will soon be here, and --

Ron. Ruthven is --

Ron. [Starting, L.] Can the grave give up its dead? Spirit, what wouldst thou?

Rut. [Apart to Ronald.] Remember your oath.

Rut. Ronald, my friend, what means this wildness?

Ron. My brain turns round! I saw him fall, -- I heard his dying groan. -- Fiend -- phantom, hence, I charge thee!

Rut. Alas, he raves!

Lady M. [Clinging to Ruthven, R.] My father! my poor father!

Ron. [Crosses to her.] Touch him not, Margaret! Fly the demon's grasp!

Rut. How dreadful is this wildness. Ho! Within, there!

Ron. I am not mad. Ruthven's dead! I saw --

Rut. [Aside, L.] Your oath!

Rut. Your master is not well, his brain is wandering; secure him, and let aid be sent for instantly.

Ron. Stand off, slaves! -- 'Tis a fiend in human shape! I saw him perish,-- twice have I seen him perish! As I have life, Heaven saw and heard-

Rut. [Aside.] Your oath!

Lady M. [To the Servants.] Oh, harm him not, but lead him gently in.

Ron. That dreadful oath! [Servants seize him.] Stay but a moment, Margaret, promise me you will not marry till the moon shall set; then, fearful fiend, I am no longer pledged, and may preserve my child.

Lady M. (C.) oh, my poor father!

Rut. Remove him gently -- suddenly, I say.

Ron. No, I will not quit my child an instant; horror overwhelms me! I know not what thou art; but terrible conviction flashes on my mind, that thou art nothing, human. A mist seems clearing from my sight; and I behold thee now -- oh, horror! horror! -- a monster of the grave -- a -- a Vam --

Rut. (L.) Remember!-- [Aside.] She's mine, my prey is in my clutch,-- the choicest, crowning victim! -- Ha! revive, my bride.

Lady M. (R.) Where am I? Where, where is my father?

Rut. (L.) In safety, love, be sure, retired to his chamber.

Lady M. I know not what to think!

Rut. Alas! I have seen him often thus, during our travels together; his reason received a severe shock on the death of my young friend, your brother.

Lady M. Is't possible? I never knew him thus.

Rut. Rely upon the melancholy truth; but 'twill not last; so, cheer thee, lovely Margaret.

Lady M. Alas, I need your consolation! How wild a fancy seized him, that you were dead; and his request, too, not to marry till the moon had set. -- Well, I will not.

Rut. [Aside.] Ha! [Aloud.] Sweet Margaret, you will not sure repent?

Lady M. Why, my good lord, so short a delay cannot be of consequence, and 'twill appease him, probably, -- and such a slight request.

Rut. I reverence your motive, but if you love me, Margaret --

Lady M. You cannot doubt it.

Rut. Upon that love, then, my repose, my happiness, my life depends; swear to me, dearest Margaret, to forget these idle terrors, and to be mine -- mine only -- for ever.

Lady M. I do, by Him who reads all hearts, to be thine, and thine only, for ever.

Rut. Oh, happiness! Receive this ring, and let it be a sacred pledge between us.

Lady M. Ha!

Rut. [Aside, smiling.] Her fate is sealed.-- She cannot now retract. [Aloud.] You shudder-- what ails my love?

Lady M. A strange sensation runs throughout my frame, tears fill my eyes, and my heart beats as though 'twould burst my bosom. Methinks my father's voice still rings in mine ears, "Wed not before the moon shall set."

Rut. [Aside.] The hour approaches -- no time is to be lost. [Aloud.] Think no more, I beseech thee, of these wanderings of the imagination, but let us hasten to consecrate the ties which unite us. Every arrangement must, by this time, have been made. Retire, my love, to your chamber; compose your spirits; and Ruthven then will lead thee to the altar.

Rob. (L.) Nay, nay, do not trouble yourselves; I have sustained no injury. But what made you come back to me so soon?

Effie (C.) We saw the boat pass with Lord Ronald in it, and we feared some mischief.

And. (R.) So we lay-to till he left the cavern, and returned just in time to render you assistance. Yonder is the castle; are you still determined to seek him?

Rob. Yes; he has been imposed upon, and ere now, I am sure, he regrets having drawn upon me. I will lay open Lord Ruthven's villany to him; and I know his noble nature too well, to fear a continuance of his anger. Here, therefore, we will part for awhile; and when we meet again, I trust all obstacles to our happiness will be removed. Be faithful.

SONG. -- Effie
TUNE	-- "Of a' the Airts."
Though many a wood and heath clad hill
	Should rise betwixt us twain;
And many an envious stream and rill
	Run babbling to the main;
This fond and faithful heart believe,
	Howe'er apart we be,
Though in my breast it seem to heave,
	Will linger still with thee.
Thus, when the silver lamp of night
	Sails through the quiet sky,
And sheds its lustre pure and bright
	Upon the traveller's eye;
Though o'er him still the fond orb seems
	To glide where'er he'll roam;
Its faithful light as sweetly beams
	Upon his distant home.

[M^cSwill sings without, L.

And. Soft; who comes here?

Rob. By his gait, it should be M^cSwill, the baron's toping henchman.

M^cSwill. My master's gone mad-- there's a pretty job. If he had been going to be married, instead of the earl, I shouldn't have wonder'd so much; but for an old man to go mad, who can sit and drink all day, without any one to snub him for it, is the most ridiculous thing that ever came under my observation. Old mother Bridget never lets me drink in quiet at home, so I carry a pocket pistol about with me. [Pulls out a flask.] Now, this is what I call my " Young Man's Best Companion;" it's a great consolation on a night excursion, to one who has so respectful a belief in bogles and warlocks, as I have. Whiskey's the only spirit I feel a wish to be intimately acquainted with.

Rob. [Advancing and slapping him on the shoulder.] M^cSwill!

M^cSwill. [Dropping on his knees.] oh, lord, what's that?

Rob. Why, how now, booby? Where have you been at this time of night?

M^cSwill. Eh! What, Robert, is it only you? I was just kneeling to -- this stupid latchet, you see, is--

Rob. Oh yes, I see; but where have you been, I ask you?

M^cSwill. Been! oh, I've been for Father Francis; -- my lord's gone crazy, and the Earl of Marsden sent me.

Rob. Effie.

\ /

The Earl of Marsden!

M^cSwill. Whew! what's in the wind now?

And. (R.) The Earl of Marsden sent you?

M^cSwill. Yes, to be sure; he's in the castle there, and just going to be married to my Lady Margaret.

Rob. Fool! the Earl of Marsden is dead

M^cSwill. Nay, now you're mad. My master's been telling the same story this half-hour, but the earl says it's no such thing; that he is not dead, and never was dead; that my master's out of his wits; -- and off he sends me for Father Francis, to come and talk to my master, and marry my mistress.

Rob. What mystery is this? There is some foul play towards -- at any rate, the Lady Margaret must know her danger. Is the friar gone?

M^cSwill. Oh yes, he's there before now. The very name of a wedding made him chuckle, and waddle off at a rate, which obliged me to stop so many times for refreshment, that he has been out of sight these some minutes.

Rob. Let us haste, father; we may foil the villain yet.

M^cSwill. It appears there is something wrong, but I can't positively pretend to say what it is; and as my flask seems as much exhausted as my speculations, I'll make the best of my way home, and ruminate how much whiskey I shall drink at the wedding.

SONG. -- McSwill
TUNE	--	"Fly, let us awa to the Bridal."
Faith, I'll awa' to the bridal,
	For there will be tippling there;
For my lady's about to be married,
	To whom I don't know, and don't care.
But I know we shall all be as frisky
	And tipsy as pipers, good lack;
And so that there's plenty of whiskey,
	She may marry the devil for Mac.
		So, faith! I'll awa' to the bridal, &c.
I once left the bottle for Cupid,
	And bade an adieu to my glass;
I simper'd, and sigh'd, and look'd stupid
	And courted a cherry-cheek'd lass.
She turn'd out a jilt:-- 'twere a lie should I
	Say, that it gave me no pain;
For sorrowing made me so dry, that I
	Took to my bottle again.
		So, faith! I'll awa' to the bridal, &c.
They say there's five reasons for drinking,
	But more, I am sure, may be got;
For I never can find out by thinking
	A reason why people should not.
A sixth I'll not scruple at giving;
	I'll name it while 'tis in my head;
'Tis if you don't drink while you're living,
	You never will after you're dead.
		So, faith! I'll awa' to the bridal &c.

[Exit M^cSwill, R.

Rut. All is prepared; o'er the great fiend once more I triumph! Ere yon orb shall kiss the wave,
The tributary victim shall be paid.
Bow, ye less subtle spirits-- bow abashed
Before your master.

Rut. Lady, to the altar.

Lady M. I follow you my lord -- and yet --

Rut. [impatiently seizing her hand.] Come, Margaret, come!

[Distant thunder.-- A loud gust of wind shakes the casement.

Lady M. What noise was that?

Bri. 'Tis but the wind, my lady; we shall have another storm, I think, when the moon sets.

Lady M. When the moon sets! -- Ah, my poor father! See, 'twill set soon, my Ruthven; let me again beseech you to delay, till then, the ceremony!

Rut. [More impatiently] Nay, this is folly, Margaret. Father, commence the rites.

Rob. Make way! make way, I say! Lord Ronald shall be heard!

Ron. (L.) My daughter! my daughter!

Rut. [Aside.] Confusion! -- Ronald!

Ron. Where is she? Give me my daughter.

Lady M. (C.) My dearest father, be calm. What wouldst thou with me?

Ron. (R. C.) Ha! do I again embrace thee. Follow him not-- he drags you to the tomb.

Rut. [Furiously.] Margaret, we are waited for.

Ron. Barbarian! I forbid the ceremony. You have no right over her -- I am her father.

Lady M. You are -- you are my loving, tender father -- I will not wed against his will.

Rut. I'll hear no more!-- she is my bride betrothed: this madman would deprive me of her.

Lady M. [Indignantly, R.] No!-- Why this violence? Wait till the hour is past.

Rut. Will you listen to his ravings?

Ron. I do not rave. [Loud thunder.-- Another gust of wind blows open the casement.] See, see! the moon already rests upon the wave! one moment! but one moment!--

Rut. Nay, then, thus I seal thy lips, and seize my bride.

[Ruthven draws his poniard, and rushes on Ronald -- Lady Margaret shrieks; when Robert throws himself between Ruthven and Ronald, and wrenches the dagger from his grasp.

Lady M. Hold! hold! -- I am thine;-- the moon has set.

Rut. And I am lost!

[A teriffic peal of thunder is heard-- Unda and Ariel appear -- a thunder-bolt strikes Ruthven, who immediately vanishes through the ground-- general picture.

UNDA.-- White satin dress, trimmed with shells, &c. -- blue satin robe -- hair in long ringlets -- tiara -- wand.

ARIEL. -- White muslin dress, with spangles -- sky-blue robe -- wings -- tiara -- silver wand.

THE VAMPIRE (RUTHVEN) -- Silver breast-plate, studded with steel buttons -- plaid kelt -- cloak -- flesh arms and leggings -- sandals -- gray cloak, to form the attitude as he ascends from the tomb.

LADY MARGARET. -- White satin dress, trimmed with plaid and silver -- plaid silk sash -- Scotch hat and feather.

RUTHVEN. -- Silver breast-plate, studded with steel buttons -- plaid kelt -- philibeg -- flesh arms and leggings -- sandals -- Scotch hat and feathers -- sword and dagger.

RONALD. -- Crimson shirt with large clasps down the front -- plaid cloak -- flesh arms and leggings -- sandals -- sword and belt -- Scotch bat and feathers.

ROBERT. -- Gray shirt, trimmed with yellow binding -- drab pantaloons-- gray hat, with black feathers -- sword and belt -- russet boots and collar.

M^cSWILL. -- Red plaid jacket, waistcoat, and kelt -- Philibeg -- flesh leggings -- plaid stockings -- black shoes and buckles -- Scotch cap.

ANDREW. -- Old man's brown coat and breeches -- plaid waistcoat and stockings -- old man's shoes and buckles -- Scotch cap -- gray wig -- black kerchief.

FATHER FRANCIS. -- Sacerdotal robes and tonsure.

LADY MARGARET. -- The same as in the vision.

EFFIE. -- Black velvet body and tabs -- plaid petticoat, trimmed with black -- blue ribbon in the hair -- plaid sash.

BRIDGET. -- Black velvet body, with point lace-red petticoat, with point lace -- point-lace apron -- kerchief -- cap -- peaked black hat, trimmed with red.

SERVANTS. -- Kelts -- jackets, &c.