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For on this Banner had her hand

Embroidered (such was the command)
The Sacred Cross; and figured there

The five dear wounds our Lord did bear;
Full soon to be uplifted high,

And float in rueful company!

It was the time when England's Queen Twelve years had reigned, a Sovereign dread; Nor yet the restless crown had been Disturbed upon her virgin head; But now the inly-working North Was ripe to send its thousands forth, A potent vassalage, to fight

In Percy's and in Neville's right,

Two Earls fast leagued in discontent,

Who

gave

their wishes

open vent;

And boldly urged a general plea,

The rites of ancient piety

To be triumphantly restored,

By the dread justice of the sword!

And that same Banner, on whose breast

The blameless Lady had exprest

Memorials chosen to give life

And sunshine to a dangerous strife;

That Banner, waiting for the call,

Stood quietly in Rylstone Hall.

It came,

and Francis Norton said,

"O Father! rise not in this fray

The hairs are white upon your head;

Dear Father, hear me when I say

It is for you too late a day!

Bethink you of

your own good name:

A just and gracious Queen have we,

A pure religion, and the claim

Of peace on our humanity.

'Tis meet that I endure your scorn, -
I am your son, your eldest born;
But not for lordship or for land,

My Father, do I clasp your knees-
The Banner touch not, stay your hand,
This multitude of men disband,

And live at home in blameless ease;
For these my brethren's sake, for me;
And, most of all, for Emily!"

Loud noise was in the crowded hall, And scarcely could the Father hear

That name — which had a dying fall,

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The name of his only Daughter dear,-
And on the banner which stood near
He glanced a look of holy pride,

And his moist eyes were glorified;

Then seized the staff, and thus did say:
"Thou, Richard, bear'st thy father's name,
Keep thou this ensign till the day
When I of thee require the same :
Thy place be on my better hand;

And seven as true as thou, I see,

Will cleave to this good cause and me."
He spake, and eight brave sons straightway
All followed him, a gallant band!

Forth when Sire and Sons appeared
A gratulating shout was reared,
With din of arms and minstrelsy,

From all his warlike tenantry,

All horsed and harnessed with him to ride;

-

- A shout to which the hills replied!

But Francis, in the vacant hall,

Stood silent under dreary weight,—
A phantasm, in which roof and wall
Shook-tottered-swam before his sight;

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A phantasm like a dream of night!
Thus overwhelmed, and desolate,

He found his way to a postern-gate ;
And, when he waked at length, his eye

Was on the calm and silent sky;
With air about him breathing sweet,

And earth's green grass beneath his feet;
Nor did he fail ere long to hear

A sound of military cheer,

Faint- but it reached that sheltered spot;

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He heard, and it disturbed him not.

There stood he, leaning on a lance Which he had grasped unknowingly, Had blindly grasped in that strong trance, That dimness of heart agony;

There stood he, cleansed from the despair
And sorrow of his fruitless prayer.
The past he calmly hath reviewed:
But where will be the fortitude

Of this brave Man, when he shall see
That Form beneath the spreading tree,
And know that it is Emily?

Oh! hide them from each other, hide,

Kind Heaven, this pair severely tried!

He saw her where in open

view

She sate beneath the spreading yew,
Her head upon her lap, concealing
In solitude her bitter feeling;

How could he choose but shrink or sigh?
He shrunk, and muttered inwardly,
Might ever son command a sire,
The act were justified to-day."

This to himself- and to the Maid,

Whom now he had approached, he said,

"Gone are they,

they have their desire;

And I with thee one hour will stay,

To give thee comfort if I may."

He paused, her silence to partake, And long it was before he spake :

Then, all at once, his thoughts turned round, And fervent words a passage found.

"Gone are they, bravely, though misled;

With a dear Father at their head!

The Sons obey a natural lord;

The Father had given solemn word

To noble Percy, and a force,

Still stronger, bends him to his course.

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