Then, to her Patron Saint a previous rite
Resounded with deep swell and solemn close,
Through unremitting vigils of the night,
Till from his couch the wished-for Sun uprose.

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He rose, and straight-as by divine command, They, who had waited for that sign to trace to Their work's foundation, gave with careful hand To the high altar its determined place;

Mindful of Him who in the Orient born
There lived, and on the cross his life resigned,
And who, from out the regions of the morn, 15
Issuing in pomp, shall come to judge mankind.

So taught their creed; -nor failed the eastern sky,

'Mid these more awful feelings, to infuse The sweet and natural hopes that shall not die, Long as the sun his gladsome course renews. 20

For us hath such prelusive vigil ceased;
Yet still we plant, like men of elder days
Our Christian altar faithful to the east,
Whence the tall window drinks the morning

rays;

That obvious emblem giving to the eye

25

Of meek devotion, which erewhile it gave, That symbol of the day-spring from on high,

Triumphant o'er the darkness of the grave.

1823.

XIV.

THE HORN OF EGREMONT CASTLE.

ERE the Brothers through the gateway
Issued forth with old and young,
To the Horn Sir Eustace pointed
Which for ages there had hung.
Horn it was which none could sound,

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No one upon living ground,
Save He who came as rightful Heir
To Egremont's Domains and Castle fair.

Heirs from times of earliest record
Had the House of Lucie born,
Who of right had held the Lordship
Claimed by proof upon the Horn:

Each at the appointed hour

Tried the Horn,-it owned his power;
He was acknowledged: and the blast,
Which good Sir Eustace sounded, was the last.

15

With his lance Sir Eustace pointed,
And to Hubert thus said he,

"What I speak this Horn shall witness

For thy better memory.

20

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

25

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!"

30

"Fear not," quickly answered Hubert;
"As I am thy Father's son,
What thou askest, noble Brother,
With God's favour shall be done."
So were both right well content:
Forth they from the Castle went,
And at the head of their Array

35

To Palestine the Brothers took their way.

Side by side they fought (the Lucies

Were a line for valour famed)

And where'er their strokes alighted,

There the Saracens were tamed.

40

Whence, then, could it come the thought- 45

By what evil spirit brought?

Oh! can a brave Man wish to take

His Brother's life, for Lands' and Castle's sake?

"Sir!" the Ruffians said to Hubert,
"Deep he lies in Jordan flood."
Stricken by this ill assurance,
Pale and trembling Hubert stood.
"Take your earnings." -Oh! that I
Could have seen my Brother die!
It was a pang that vexed him then;
And oft returned, again, and yet again.

Months passed on, and no Sir Eustace!
Nor of him were tidings heard.
Wherefore, bold as day, the Murderer
Back again to England steered.
To his Castle Hubert sped;
Nothing has he now to dread.

50

55

60

But silent and by stealth he came,
And at an hour which nobody could name.

None could tell if it were night-time,

65

With plenty was his table spread;

And bright the Lady is who shares his bed.

Once he sate, as old books say,
A blast was uttered from the Horn,

Where by the Castle-gate it hung forlorn.

80

And there he may be lodged, and thou be Lord.

Living man, it must be he!

Thus Hubert thought in his dismay,
And by a postern-gate he slunk away.

95

Long, and long was he unheard of:
To his Brother then he came,
Made confession, asked forgiveness,
Asked it by a brother's name,
And by all the saints in heaven;
And of Eustace was forgiven :
Then in a convent went to hide
His melancholy head, and there he died.

100

But Sir Eustace, whom good angels
Had preserved from murderers' hands,
And from Pagan chains had rescued,

105

Lived with honour on his lands.
Sons he had, saw sons of theirs :

Он! what's the matter? what's the matter?
What is 't that ails young Harry Gill?
That evermore his teeth they chatter,
Chatter, chatter, chatter still!
Of waistcoats Harry has no lack,
Good duffle grey, and flannel fine;
He has a blanket on his back,

And coats enough to smother nine.

In March, December, and in July,
'Tis all the same with Harry Gill;
The neighbours tell, and tell you truly,

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