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"For thee, for thee, is left the sense
Of trial past without offence
To God or man; such innocence,
Such consolation, and the excess
Of an unmerited distress;

In that thy very strength must lie.
-O Sister, I could prophesy!
The time is come that rings the knell
Of all we loved, and loved so well:
Hope nothing, if I thus may speak
To thee, a woman, and thence weak:
Hope nothing, I repeat; for we
Are doomed to perish utterly:
"Tis meet that thou with me divide
The thought while I am by thy side,
Acknowledging a grace in this,
A comfort in the dark abyss.

But look not for me when I am gone,
And be no farther wrought upon:
Farewell all wishes, all debate,
All prayers for this cause, or for that!
Weep, if that aid thee; but depend
Upon no help of outward friend;
Espouse thy doom at once, and cleave
To fortitude without reprieve.

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He ended, or she heard no more; He led her from the yew-tree shade, And at the mansion's silent door, He kissed the consecrated Maid; And down the valley then pursued, Alone, the armèd Multitude.

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nd Captains known for worth in arms; nd prayed the Earls in self-defence 631 rise, and prove their innocence.— Rise, noble Earls, put forth your might holy Church, and the People's right!" The Norton fixed, at this demand, 635 is eye upon Northumberland,

Let this your preservation be;
The wounds of hands and feet and side,
And the sacred Cross on which Jesus died.
-This bring I from an ancient hearth,
These Records wrought in pledge of love
By hands of no ignoble birth,
666

A Maid o'er whom the blessed Dove
Vouchsafed in gentleness to brood
While she the holy work pursued."
"Uplift the Standard!" was the cry 670
From all the listeners that stood round,
"Plant it,-by this we live or die."
The Norton ceased not for that sound,
But said; "The prayer which ye have
heard,

Is offered to the Saints, the sigh
Much injured Earls! by these preferred,

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Of tens of thousands, secretly."
"Uplift it!" cried once more the Band,
"Uplift it!" said Northumberland- 680
And then a thoughtful pause ensued:

Who saw the Banner reared on high
In all its dread emblazonry

Whereat from all the multitude

A voice of uttermost joy brake out:
The transport was rolled down the river

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640 And the towers of Saint Cuthbert were stirred by the shout!

nd said; "The Minds of Men will own o loyal rest while England's Crown emains without an Heir, the bait Istrife and factions desperate; ho, paying deadly hate in kind arough all things else, in this can find mutual hope, a common mind; nd plot, and pant to overwhelm Il ancient honour in the realm. Brave Earls! to whose heroic veins ur noblest blood is given in trust, 3 you a suffering State complains, nd ye must raise her from the dust. ith wishes of still bolder scope n you we look, with dearest hope; ven for our Altars-for the prize Heaven, of life that never dies;

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or the old and holy Church we mourn,

nd must in joy to her return.

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Of well-appointed chivalry.

ehold!"-and from his Son whose stand-Not loth the sleepy lance to wield, 700

las on his right, from that guardian

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And greet the old paternal shield,

They heard the summons ;-and, further

more,

Horsemen and Foot of each degree, Unbound by pledge of fealty,

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Appeared, with free and open hate
Of novelties in Church and State;
Knight, burgher, yeoman, and esquire,
And Romish priest, in priest's attire.
And thus, in arms, a zealous Band
Proceeding under joint command,
To Durham first their course they bear;
And in Saint Cuthbert's ancient seat
Sang mass, and tore the book of prayer,-
And trod the bible beneath their feet.
Thence marching southward smooth
and free
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"They mustered their host at Wetherby,
Full sixteen thousand fair to see1;"
The Choicest Warriors of the North!
But none for beauty and for worth
Like those eight Sons-who, in a ring, 720
(Ripe men, or blooming in life's spring)
Each with a lance, erect and tall,
A falchion, and a buckler small,
Stood by their Sire, on Clifford-moor,
To guard the Standard which he bore. 725

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On foot they girt their Father round;
And so will keep the appointed ground
Where'er their march: no steed will he
Henceforth bestride;-triumphantly
He stands upon the grassy sod,
Trusting himself to the earth, and God.
Rare sight to embolden and inspire!
Proud was the field of Sons and Sire;
Of him the most; and, sooth to say,
No shape of man in all the array
So graced the sunshine of that day.
The monumental pomp of age
Was with this goodly Personage;
A stature undepressed in size,
Unbent, which rather seemed to rise,
In open victory o'er the weight
Of seventy years, to loftier height;
Magnific limbs of withered state;
A face to fear and venerate;
Eyes dark and strong; and on his head
Bright locks of silver hair, thick spread,
Which a brown morion half-concealed,
Light as a hunter's of the field;
And thus, with girdle round his waist,
Whereon the Banner-staff might rest 750
At need, he stood, advancing high
The glittering, floating Pageantry.

1 From the Old Ballad,

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He there stands fixed from hour hour:

Yet sometimes in more humble guise
Upon the turf-clad height he lies

Stretched, herdsman-like, as if to bask
In sunshine were his only task,
Or by his mantle's help to find
A shelter from the nipping wind:
And thus, with short oblivion blest,
His weary spirits gather rest.
Again he lifts his eyes; and lo!
The pageant glancing to and fro;
And hope is wakened by the sight,
He thence may learn, ere fall of night,
Which way the tide is doomed to flow.

To London were the Chieftains ber:: But what avails the bold intent? 740 A Royal army is gone forth

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To quell the RISING OF THE NORTH;
They march with Dudley at their head
And, in seven days' space, will to Yo
be led !-

Can such a mighty host be raised
Thus suddenly, and brought so near? 79
The Earls upon each other gazed,
And Neville's cheek grew pale with fear
For, with a high and valiant name,
He bore a heart of timid frame;
And bold if both had been, yet they
'Against so many may not stay 2"

2 From the Old Ballad.

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dack therefore will they hie to seize strong Hold on the banks of Tees; here wait a favourable hour,

ntil Lord Dacre with his power

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rom Naworth come; and Howard's aid

thewith them openly displayed.

Be warned"-His zeal the Chiefs confounded,

But word was given, and the trumpet sounded:

Back through the melancholy Host

Went Norton, and resumed his post.
Alas! thought he, and have I borne 845

While through the Host, from man to This Banner raised with joyful pride,

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nd can it be?) an unfought field!— 810 ow oft has strength, the strength of heaven,

few triumphantly been given!

ill do our very children boast
mitred Thurston-what a Host
conquered!-Saw we not the Plain
nd flying shall behold again)

816 here faith was proved?-while to battle moved

e Standard, on the Sacred Wain hat bore it, compassed round by a bold taternity of Barons old;

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ad with those grey-haired champions
stood,

nder the saintly ensigns three,
he infant Heir of Mowbray's blood—-
confident of victory!—

all Percy blush, then, for his name? 825
ust Westmoreland be asked with shame
hose were the numbers, where the loss,
that other day of Neville's Cross?
Then the Prior of Durham with holy
hand

aised, as the Vision gave command, 830
int Cuthbert's Relic-far and near
enned on the point of a lofty spear;
hile the Monks prayed in Maiden's
Bower

⇒God descending in his power.

would not at our need be due us, who war against the Untrue;e delegates of Heaven we rise, nvoked the impious to chastise: we, the sanctities of old uld re-establish and uphold:

This hope of all posterity,

By those dread symbols sanctified;
Thus to become at once the scorn

Of babbling winds as they go by,

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With love divine and gentle light?
She would not, could not, disobey,
But her Faith leaned another way.
Ill tears she wept; I saw them fall,
I overheard her as she spake
Sad words to that mute Animal,
The White Doe, in the hawthorn brakę;
She steeped, but not for Jesu's sake,
This Cross in tears: by her, and One
Unworthier far we are undone-
Her recreant Brother-he prevailed
Over that tender Spirit-assailed
Too oft, alas! by her whose head
In the cold grave hath long been laid:
She first in reason's dawn beguiled
840 Her docile, unsuspecting Child:

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Far back-far back my mind must go
To reach the well-spring of this woe!

While thus he brooded, music sweet
Of border tunes was played to cheer 890
The footsteps of a quick retreat;
But Norton lingered in the rear,

But calmly from the spot withdrew; 935
His best endeavours to renew,
Should e'er a kindlier time ensue.

Canto Fourth.

"Tis night in silence looking down,

Stung with sharp thoughts; and, ere the The Moon from cloudless ether sees

last

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From his distracted brain was cast,
Before his Father, Francis stood,
And spake in firm and earnest mood.
"Though here I bend a suppliant knee
In reverence, and unarmed, I bear
In your indignant thoughts my share;
Am grieved this backward march to see
So careless and disorderly.
901
I scorn your Chiefs-men who would lead,
And yet want courage at their need:
Then look at them with open eyes!
Deserve they further sacrifice?--
If-when they shrink, nor dare oppose
In open field their gathering foes,
(And fast, from this decisive day,
Yon multitude must melt away ;)
If now I ask a grace not claimed
While ground was left for hope; unblamed
Be an endeavour that can do
No injury to them or you.

My Father! I would help to find
A place of shelter, till the rage
Of cruel men do like the wind
Exhaust itself and sink to rest;
Be Brother now to Brother joined !
Admit me in the equipage

Of your misfortunes, that at least,
Whatever fate remain behind,
I may bear witness in my breast
To your nobility of mind!"

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910

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A Camp, and a beleaguered Town,
And Castle like a stately crown
On the steep rocks of winding Tees;-
And southward far, with moor between
Hill-top, and flood, and forest green,
The bright Moon sees that valley smal
Where Rylstone's old sequestered Hall
A venerable image yields

Of quiet to the neighbouring fields;
While from one pillared chimney breathe
The smoke, and mounts in silver wreath
-The courts are hushed;-for timel
sleep

The greyhounds to their kennel creep;
The peacock in the broad ash-tree

Aloft is roosted for the night,
He who in proud prosperity
Of colours manifold and bright
Walked round, affronting the daylight:
And higher still, above the bower
Where he is perched, from yon lot
Tower

The hall-clock in the clear moonshine 915 With glittering finger points at nine.

920

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Ah! who could think that sadness bet
Hath any sway? or pain, or fear?
A soft and lulling sound is heard
Of streams inaudible by day;
The garden pool's dark surface, stirred
By the night insects in their play.
Breaks into dimples small and bright;
A thousand, thousand rings of light
That shape themselves and disappear
Almost as soon as seen :-and lo!
Not distant far, the milk-white Doe-
The same who quietly was feeding
On the green herb, and nothing heeding
When Francis, uttering to the Maid
His last words in the yew-tree shade.
Involved whate'er by love was brought
Out of his heart, or crossed his thought
Or chance presented to his eye,
In one sad sweep of destiny-

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