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Silent and sad they onward went.
Well may you think that Bertram's mood,"
To Wilfrid savage seem'd and rude ;
Well may you think bold Risingham
Held Wilfrid trivial, poor, and tame;
And small the intercourse, I ween,
Such uncongenial souls between,


Stern Bertram shunn'd the nearer way,
Through Rokeby's park and chase that lay,
And, skirting high the valley's ridge,
They cross'd by Greta's ancient bridge;
Descending where her waters wind
Free for a space and unconfined,
As, 'scaped from Brignall's dark-wood glen,
She seeks wild Mortham's deeper den.
There, as his eye glanced o'er the mound,
Raised by that Legion : long renown'd,
Whose votive shrine asserts their claim,
Of pious, faithful, conquering fame.
“Stern sons of war!” sad Wilfrid sigh'd,
“Behold the boast of Roman pride!
What pow of all your toils are known ?
A grassy trench, a broken stone!
This to himself; for moral strain
To Bertram were address'd in vain.

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Of different mood, a deeper sigh
Awoke, when Rokeby's turrets high?

(MS.-“ For brief the intercourse, 1 ween,

Such uncongenial souls between ;
Well may you think stern Risingham
Held Wilfrid trivial, poor, and tame;
And nought of mutual interest lay

To bind the comrades of the way."] a Close behind the George Inn at Greta Bridge, there is a well-preserved Roman encampment, surrounded with a triple ditch, lying between the river Greta and a brook called the Tutta. The four entrances are easily to be discerned. Very many Roinan altars and monuments have been found in the vicinity, most of which are preserved at Rokeby by my friend Mr. Morritt. Among others is a small votive altar, with the inscription, LEG. Fl. VIC. P. P. F., which has been rendered, Legio. Sexta. Victrix. Pia. Fortis. Fidelis.

3 This ancient manor long gave name to a family by whom it is said to have been possessed from the Conquest downward, and who are at different times distinguished in history. It was the Baron of Rokeby who finally defeated the insurrection of the Earl of Northumberland, tempore Hen. IV., of which Holinshed gives the following account :-The King, advertised hereof, caused a great armie to be assembled, and came forward with the same towards his enemies; but yer the King came to Nottingham, Sir Thomas or (as other copies haue) Sir Rafe Rokesbie, Shiriffe of Yorkeshire, assembled the forces of the countrie to resist the Earle and his power; coming to Grimbautbrigs, beside Knaresborough, there


Were northward in the dawning seen
To rear them o'er the thicket green.
O then, though Spenser's self had stray'd
Beside him through the lovely glade,
Lending bis rich luxuriant glow
Of fancy, all its charms to show,
Pointing the stream rejoicing free,
As captive set at liberty,
Flashing her sparkling waves abroad,
And clamouring joyful on her road;
Pointing where, up the sunny banks,
The trees retire in scatter'd ranks,
Save .where, advanced before the rest,
On knoll or hillock rears his crest,
Lonely and huge, the giant Oak,
As champions, when their band is broke,
Stand forth to guard the rearward post,
The bulwark of the scatter'd host-
All this, and more, might Spenser say,
Yet waste in vain his magic lay,
While Wilfrid eyed the distant tower,
Whose lattice lights Matilda's bower.


The open vale is soon pass’d o’er,

to stop them the passage ; but they returning aside, got to Weatherbie, and so to Tadcaster, and finally came forward unto Braham-moor, near to Haizlewood, where they chose their ground meet to fight upon. The shiriffe was as readie to gine battell as the Erle to receiuc it; and so with a standard of St. George spread, set fiercelie vpon The Earle, who, vnder a standard of his owne armes, encountered his aduersaries with great manhood. There was a sore incounter and cruell conflict betwixt the parties, but in the end the victorie fell to the Shiriffe. The Lord Bardolfe was taken, but sore wounded, so that he shortlie after died of the hurts. As for the Earle or Northumberland. he was slain oulright; so that now the prophecy was fulfilled, which gaue an inkling of this bis heauy hap long before, namelie,

Stirps Persitina periet confusa ruina.' For this Earle was the stocke and maine root of all that were left aliue, called by the name of Persie; and of manie more by diuers slaughters dispatched. For whose misfortune the people were not a little sorrie, making report of the gentleman's valiantnesse, renowne, and honour, and applieing vnto him certeiue lamentable verses out of Lucainc, saieng,

"Sed nos nec sanguis, nec tantum vulnera nostri
Affecere senis : quantum gestata per urbem
Ora ducis, quæ transfixo deformia pilo

Vidimus. For his bead, full of siluer horie haires, being put upon a stake, was openlie carried through London, and set vpon the bridge of the same citie: in like manner was the Lord Bardolfes." -HOLINSHED'S. Chronicles. Lond. 1808, 4to, iii. 45. The Rokeby, or Rokesby family, continued to be distinguished until the great Civil War, when, having embraced the cause of Charles I., they suffered severely by fines and confiscations. The estate then passed from its ancient possessors to the family of the Robinsons, from whom it was purchased by the father of my valued friend, the present proprietor.

[MS.-"Flashing to heaven her sparkling spray,

Add clamouring joyful on her way.”]

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Rokeby, though nigh, is seen no more;'
Sinking mid Greta's thickets deep,
A wild and darker course they keep,
A stern and lone, yet lovely road,
As e'er the foot of Minstrel trode!:
Broad shadows o'er their passage fell,
Deeper and narrower grew. the dell;
It seem'd some mountain, rent and riven,
A channel for the stream had given,
So high the cliffs of limestone gray
Hung beetling o'er the torrent's way,
Yielding, along their rugged base, 3
A flinty footpath's niggard space,
Where he, who winds 'twixt rock and wave,
May hear the headlong torrent rave,
And like a steed in frantic fit,
That flings the froth from curb and bit,
May view her chafe her waves to spray,

rock that bars her way,
Till foam-globes on her eddies ride,


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[ MS.-—“And Rokeby's tower is seen no more ;

Sinking mid Greta's thickels green

The journeyers seek anotber scene." ] - What follows is an attempt to describe the romantic glen, or rather ravine, through which the Greta finds a passage between Rokeby and Mortham ; the former situated upon the left bank of Greta, the latter on the right bank, about half a mile nearer to its junction with the Tees. The river runs with very great rapidity over a bed of solid rock, broken by many shelving descents, down which the stream dashes with great noise and impetuosity, vindicating its etymology, which has been derived from the Gothic, Gridan, to clamour. The banks partake of the same wild and romantic character, being chiefly lofty cliffs of limestone rock, whose grey colour contrasts admirably with the various trees and shrubs which find root among their crevices, as well as with the bue of the ivy, which clings around them in profusion, and hangs down from their projections in long sweeping tendrils. At other points the rocks give place to precipitous banks of earth, bearing large trees intermixed with copsewood. In one spot the dell, which is elsewhere very narrow, widens for a space to leave room for a dark grove of yew-trees, intermixed here and there with aged pines of uncommon size.' Directly opposite to this sombre thicket, the cliffs on the other side of the Greta are tall, white, and fringed with all kinds of deciduous shrubs. The wbole scenery of this spot is so much adapted to the ideas of superstition, that it has acquired the name of Blockula, from the place where the Swedish witches were supposed to hold their Sabbath. The dell, nowever, has superstitions of its own growth, for it is supposed to be haunted by a female spectre, called the Dobie of Mortham. The cause assigned for her appearance is a lady's having been whilom murdered in the wood, in evidence of which, her blood is shown upon the stairs of the old tower at Mortham. But whether she was slain by a jealous husband, or by savage banditti, or by an uncle who coveted her estate, or by a rejected lover, are points upon which the traditions of Rokeby do not enable us to decide.

[MS.-" Yielding their rugged base beside

A } patb by Greta's tide." ]

niggard | MS.-"That fliogs the toam from curb and hit,

tawny Chafing her waves to wbiten wrath,

spongy O'er every rock that bars her path, Till down her boiling eddies ride," etc.)


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The cliffs that rear their haughty head
High o'er the river's darksome bed,
Were now all naked, wild, and gray,
Now waving all with greenwood spray;
Here trees to every crevice clung,
And o'er the dell their branches hung;
And there, all splinter'd and uneven,
The shiver'd rock's ascend to heaven;
Oft, too, the ivy swathed their breast,
And wreathed its garland round their crest,
Or from the spires bade loosely flare
Its tendrils in the middle air.
As pennons wont to wave of old
O’er the high feast of Baron bold,
When revell’d loud the feudal rout,
And the arch'd halls return'd their shout;
Such and more wild is Greta's roar,
And such the echoes from her shore.
And so the ivied banners gleam, *
Waved wildly o’er the brawling stream.

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( MS.-" The frequent ivy swatbed their breast,

And wreatbed its tendrils round their crest,
Or from their summit bade them fall,
And tremble o'er the Greta's brawl." ]

green, [ MS." And so the ivy's banners

gleam, Waved wildly trembling o'er the scene,

Waved wild above the clamorous stream.” 1 .( MS.

"a corrent's strand; Where in the warm and dry retreat, May fancy form some hermit's seat.”

A dismal grove of sable yew,'
With whose sad tints were mingled seen
The blighted fir's sepulchral green.
Seem'd that the trees their shadows cast,
The earth that nourish'd them to blast;
For never knew that swarthy grove
The verdant hue that fairies love;
Nor wilding green, nor woodland flower,
Arose within its baleful bower ::
The dank and sable earth receives
Its only carpet from the leaves,
That, from the withering branches cast,
Bestrew'd the ground with every. blast.
Though now the sun' was o'er the hill,
In this dark spot 'twas twilight still,'
Save that on Greta's farther side
Some straggling beams through copsewood glide;
And wild and savage contrast made
That dingle's deep and funeral shade,
With the bright tints of early day,
Which, glimmering through the ivy spray,
On the opposing summit lay.


The lated peasant shunn'd the dell;
For Superstition wont to tell
Of many a grisly sound and sight,
Scaring its path at dead of night.
When Christmas logs blaze high and wide,
Such wonders speed the festal tide;
While Curiosity and Fear,
Pleasure and Pain, sit crouching near,
Till childhood's cheek no longer glows,
And village maidens lose the rose.
The thrilling interest rises higher, 3

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[ MS." A darksome grove of funeral yew,

Where trees a baleful shadow cast,
The ground that nourish'd them to blast,
Miogled with whose sad tints were seen

The blighted fir's sepulcbral grcen."]
MS." In this dark grove, 'twas twilight still,

Save that upon the rocks opposed
Some straggling beams of morp reposed,
And wild and savage contrast made
That bleak and dark funereal shade
With the bright lints early day,
Which, struggling through the greenwood spray,

Upon the rock's wild summit lay.")
[ MS." The interest rises bigh and higher.”]


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