In April here beneath the flowering thorn Now, here is neither grass nor pleasant shade; Till trees, and stones, and fountain, all are gone.” 'Grey-headed Shepherd, thou hast spoken well; The Being, that is in the clouds and air, The pleasure-house is dust :-behind, before, She leaves these objects to a slow decay, But at the coming of the milder day, These monuments shall all be overgrown. One lesson, Shepherd, let us two divide, Taught both by what she shows, and what conceals; Never to blend our pleasure or our pride With sorrow of the meanest thing that feels." 1800. XXII THE HORN OF EGREMONT CASTLE. WHEN the Brothers reached the gateway, To the Horn which there was hanging; Horn it was which none could sound, Save He who came as rightful Heir To Egremont's Domains and Castle fair. Heirs from ages without record Had the House of Lucie born, Who of right had claimed the Lordship Each at the appointed hour Tried the Horn,-it owned his power; Which good Sir Eustace sounded, was the last. With his lance Sir Eustace pointed, And to Hubert thus said he, "What I speak this Horn shall witness For thy better memory. Hear, then, and neglect me not! At this time, and on this spot, The words are uttered from my heart, As my last earnest prayer ere we depart. On good service we are going Life to risk by sea and land, In which course if Christ our Saviour Do my sinful soul demand, Hither come thou back straightway, Hubert, if alive that day; Return, and sound the Horn, that we May have a living House still left in thee!" "Fear not," quickly answered Hubert; "As I am thy Father's son, What thou askest, noble Brother, To Palestine the Brothers took their way. Side by side they fought (the Lucies And where'er their strokes alighted, Whence, then, could it come-the thought- Oh! can a brave Man wish to take His Brother's life, for Lands' and Castle's sake? "Sir!" the Ruffians said to Hubert, Months passed on, and no Sir Eustace! But silent and by stealth he came, And at an hour which nobody could name None could tell if it were night-time, But bold Hubert lives in glee: With plenty was his table spread; And bright the Lady is who shares his bed. Likewise he had sons and daughters; And, as good men do, he sate At his board by these surrounded, And while thus in open day Once he sate, as old books say, A blast was uttered from the Horn, 'Tis the breath of good Sir Eustace ! He is helpless and alone: Thou hast a dungeon, speak the word! And there he may be lodged, and thou be Lord. |