"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.
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.
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,
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
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;
or the old and holy Church we mourn,
nd must in joy to her return.
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
And greet the old paternal shield,
They heard the summons ;-and, further
Horsemen and Foot of each degree, Unbound by pledge of fealty,
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 715
"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
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.
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
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"
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
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,
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;
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,
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:
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.
"Tis night in silence looking down,
Stung with sharp thoughts; and, ere the The Moon from cloudless ether sees
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!"
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.
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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