_A plain on the English side of the Tweed, fronting the Ramparts of Berwick, where a Gibbet is erected, surrounded by Men-at-Arms. The English Bugles are heard at a distance, and the Troops are seen marshalling in the back-ground. The eight young Hostages are led forth to Execution, with their hands pinioned, and halters tied round their necks._

YOUNG SETON _and the other Hostages_, EXECUTIONER, GUARDS, &c.

EXECUTIONER.

Come forth, my pretty boy! you are the first Upon the roll.

YOUNG SETON.

Thanks for the precedence! I’m ready;—but I weep that these poor youths Should suffer. Would that I might see the king To intercede for them. Oh! would that I Might feed the tyrant’s rage. Don’t weep, my lads! For we’ll be happy soon. I envy not The conqueror who gluts his puny vengeance On harmless heads like ours. We die to serve Our country, while he lives but to destroy The innocent. I have but one request Of thee, stern man!

EXECUTIONER.

’Tis foolish prattling; I must make haste to do my duty.

YOUNG SETON.

O yes! make haste; I hear a parley sounded, I see the white flag hoisted. Haste, make haste! And tarry not, lest they give up the town To save our lives; alas! of little moment. But if you have a mother, stern man! hear, Oh! hear my last request.

_Enter_ MESSENGER.

MESSENGER.

The boys are all reprieved, except young Seton; Be quick, and execute the law on him: The guards are murmuring at your delay.

YOUNG SETON.

My friends, farewell! as thus I kiss you all. [SETON _embraces the Boys, who shed tears, interrupted with sobs of joy, at being so unexpectedly delivered, except_ ALAN, _who looks melancholy, and takes_ SETON _by the hand_. Since this cruel man will hearken not to me, Alan, I pray thee, give this lock of hair To my poor mother; tell her that I died As her son ought to die. This silver bell Give to my sister Margaret for her falcon; [_The Jailer, unseen by_ SETON, _takes it from_ ALAN. And tell my father to be comforted Since we will meet in Heaven.—(_Kneels._) Almighty God! Receive my sinful soul. [_Then looks up unconcernedly into the face of the Executioner, and exclaims_, Sir, I am ready,— Now God for Scotland, David, and Saint Andrew!

[_A shout is heard without. “A rescue! a rescue!” while the curtain falls._