He told; and oftentimes with voice The old Man to the silent Maid; "Yet, Lady! shines, through this black night, One star of aspect heavenly bright; Your Brother lives, - he lives, is come Perhaps already to his home; Then let us leave this dreary place." CANTO SIXTH. WHY comes not Francis ? From the doleful City - Why comes not Francis? Thoughts of love Should bear him to his Sister dear With the fleet motion of a dove; Yea, like a heavenly messenger Of speediest wing should he appear. Along the plain of York he past; nor heeds The sorrow, through the Villages, And punishment without remorse. He felt, and made a sudden stand. He looked about like one betrayed: What hath he done? what promise made? O weak, weak moment, to what end Can such a vain oblation tend, And he the Bearer? — Can he go, Carrying this instrument of woe, And find, find anywhere, a right To excuse him in his Country's sight? No; will not all men deem the change A downward course, perverse and strange? Here is it; but how? when? must she, The unoffending Emily, Again this piteous object see? Such conflict long did he maintain, even that thought, By this sad burden, Swayed the brave man to his wrong. But that Heaven's purpose might be known To Emily in the yew-tree shade: - Dead are they, dead!— and I will go, So forward with a steady will He went, and traversed plain and hill; Pursued ; — and, at the dawn of day, He heard, and with misgiving mind. -'T is Sir George Bowes who leads the Band: They come, by cruel Sussex sent; Who, when the Nortons from the hand His whole bold carriage (which had quelled All censure, enterprise so bright That even bad men had vainly striven Against that overcoming light) Was then reviewed, and prompt word given, That, to what place soever fled, He should be seized, alive or dead. The troop of horse have gained the height Where Francis stood in open sight. They hem him round," Behold the proof," They cried, "the Ensign in his hand! He did not arm, he walked aloof! For why? to save his Father's land ; Worst Traitor of them all is he, "I am no Traitor," Francis said, "Though this unhappy freight I bear; And must not part with. But beware; Err not, by hasty zeal misled, Nor do a suffering Spirit wrong, Whose self-reproaches are too strong!" At this he from the beaten road Retreated towards a brake of thorn, That like a place of vantage showed; And there stood bravely, though forlorn. In self-defence with warlike brow He stood,- nor weaponless was now; He from a Soldier's hand had snatched A spear, — and, so protected, watched The Assailants, turning round and round; But from behind with treacherous wound A Spearman brought him to the ground. The guardian lance, as Francis fell, Dropped from him; but his other hand The Banner clenched; till, from out the Band, One, the most eager for the prize, |