XXVII.

Wilfrid must love and woo' the bright
Matilda, heir of Rokeby's knight.
To love her was an easy hest,
The secret empress of his breast;
To woo her was a harder task

To one that durst not hope or ask.
Yet all Matilda could, she gave
In pity to her gentle slave;
Friendship, esteem, and fair regard,
And praise, the poet's best reward!
She read the tales his taste approved,
And sung the lays he framed or loved;
Yet, loth to nurse the fatal flame
Of hopeless love in friendship's name,
In kind caprice she oft withdrew
The favoring glance to friendship due,
Then grieved to see her victim's pain,
And gave the dangerous smiles again.

XXVIII.

So did the suit of Wilfrid stand,

When war's loud summons waked the land.

Three banners, floating o'er the Tees,
The wo-foreboding peasant sees;
In concert oft they braved of old
The bordering Scot's incursion bold;
Frowning defiance in their pride,3
Their vassals now and lords divide.
From his fair hall on Greta banks,
The Knight of Rokeby led his ranks,
To aid the valiant northern Earls,
Who drew the sword for royal Charles.
Mortham, by marriage near allied,—
His sister had been Rokeby's bride,
Though long before the civil fray,
In peaceful grave the lady lay,-
Philip of Mortham raised his band,
And march'd at Fairfax's command
While Wycliffe, bound by many a train
Of kindred art with wily Vane,
Less prompt to brave the bloody field,
Made Barnard's battlements his shield,
Secured them with his Lunedale powers,
And for the Commons held the towers.

healthy frame of body. In both these particulars, the character of Wilfrid is exempt from the objections to which we think that of the Minstrel liable. At the period of the Civil Wars, in the higher orders of Society, intellectual refinement had advanced to a degree sufficient to give probability to its existence. The remainder of our argument will be best explained by the beautiful lines of the poet," (stanzas xxv. and Xxvi.)-Critical Review.

1 MS." And first must Wilfrid woo," &c.

2 MS.-"The fuel fond her favor threw."

MS.-"Now frowning dark on different side,

Their vassals and their lords divide."
MS.-"Dame Alice and Matilda bright,

XXIX.

The lovely heir of Rokeby's Knight
Waits in his halls the event of fight;
For England's war revered the claim
Of every unprotected name,
And spared, amid its fiercest rage,
Childhood and womanhood and age.
But Wilfrid, son to Rokeby's foe,"
Must the dear privilege forego,
By Greta's side, in evening gray,
To steal upon Matilda's way,
Striving, with fond hypocrisy,
For careless step and vacant eye;
Claming each anxious look and glance,
To give the meeting all to chance,
Or framing, as a fair excuse,
The book, the pencil, or the muse:
Something to give, to sing, to say,
Some modern tale, some ancient lay..
Then, while the long'd-for minutes last,-
Ah! minutes quickly over-past-1
Recording each expression free,
Of kind or careless courtesy,

Each friendly look, each softer tone,
As food for fancy when alone.
All this is o'er-but still, unseen,
Wilfrid may lurk in Eastwood green,*
To watch Matilda's wonted round,
While springs his heart at every sound.
She comes-'tis but a passing sight,
Yet serves to cheat his weary night;
She comes not-he will wait the hour,
When her lamp lightens in the tower;
'Tis something yet, if, as she past,
Her shade is o'er the lattice cast.
"What is my life, my hope?" he said;
"Alas! a transitory shade."

In all but this, unmoved he view'd
Each outward change of ill and good:
But Wilfrid, docile, soft, and mild,
Was Fancy's spoil'd and wayward child;
In her bright' car she bade him ride,
With one fair form to grace his side,
Or, in some wild and lone retreat,2
Flung her high spells around his seat,
Bathed in her dews his languid head,
Her fairy mantle o'er him spread,
For him her opiates gave to flow,
Which he who tastes can ne'er forego,
And placed him in her circle, free
From every stern reality,
Till, to the Visionary, seem

Her day-dreams truth, and truth a dream.

XXXI

Woe to the youth whom fancy gains,
Winning from Reason's hand the reins,
Pity and woe! for such a mind
Is soft, contemplative, and kind;
And woe to those who train such youth,
And spare to press the rights of truth,
The mind to strengthen and anneal,
While on the stithy glows the steel!
O teach him, while your lessons last,
To judge the present by the past;
Remind him of each wish pursued,
How rich it glow'd with promised good;
Remind him of each wish enjoy'd,
How soon his hopes possession cloy'd!
Tell him, we play unequal game,
Whene'er we shoot by Fancy's aim ;
And, ere he strip him for her race,
Show the conditions of the chase.
Two sisters by the goal are set,
Cold Disappointment and Regret ;
One disenchants the winner's eyes,
And strips of all its worth the prize.

In modest Truth no light nor beauty find;

And who, my child, would trust the meteor blaze

While one augments its gaudy show,
More to enhance the loser's woe.*
The victor sees his fairy gold
Transform'd, when won, to drossy mold,
But still the vanquish'd mourns his loss,
And rues, as gold, that glittering dross.

XXXII.

More wouldst thou know-yon tower survey,
Yon couch unpress'd since parting day,
Yon untrimm'd lamp, whose yellow gleam
Is mingling with the cold moonbeam,
And yon thin form!-the hectic red
On his pale cheek unequal spread ;
The head reclined, the loosen'd hair,
The limbs relax'd, the mournful air.—
See, he looks up;-a woful smile
Lightens his wo-worn cheek a while,-
'Tis fancy wakes some idle thought,
To gild the ruin she has wrought;
For, like the bat of Indian brakes,
Her pinions fan the wound she makes,
And soothing thus the dreamer's pain,
She drinks his life-blood from the vein."
Now to the lattice turn his eyes,

Vain hope! to see the sun arise.
The moon with clouds is still o'ercast,
Still howls by fits the stormy blast;
Another hour must wear away,
Ere the East kindle into day,
And hark! to waste that weary hour,
He tries the minstrel's magic power.

305

XXVII.

Wilfrid must love and woo' the bright
Matilda, heir of Rokeby's knight.
To love her was an easy hest,
The secret empress of his breast;
To woo her was a harder task

To one that durst not hope or ask.
Yet all Matilda could, she gave
In pity to her gentle slave;
Friendship, esteem, and fair regard,
And praise, the poet's best reward!
She read the tales his taste approved,
And sung the lays he framed or loved;
Yet, loth to nurse the fatal flame
Of hopeless love in friendship's name,
In kind caprice she oft withdrew
The favoring glance to friendship due,2
Then grieved to see her victim's pain,
And gave the dangerous smiles again.

XXVIII.

So did the suit of Wilfrid stand,

When war's loud summons waked the

land.

Three banners, floating o'er the Tees,

The wo-foreboding peasant sees;

In concert oft they braved of old

The bordering Scot's incursion bold;
Frowning defiance in their pride,'
Their vassals now and lords divide.
From his fair hall on Greta banks,
The Knight of Rokeby led his ranks,
To aid the valiant northern Earls,
Who drew the sword for royal Charles.
Mortham, by marriage near allied,—
His sister had been Rokeby's bride,
Though long before the civil fray,
In peaceful grave the lady lay,-
Philip of Mortham raised his band,
And march'd at Fairfax's command
While Wycliffe, bound by many a train
Of kindred art with wily Vane,
Less prompt to brave the bloody field,
Made Barnard's battlements his shield,
Secured them with his Lunedale powers,
And for the Commons held the towers.

The lo
Waitse
For Er

Of eve Fa w drossy mold,
And s
maras his loss,

Childheg dross,
But W
Must t

By Gr-yon tower survey,
To ste parting day,
Strivin ise yellow gleam
For camoonbeam,
Clamir-the hectic red
To give spread
Or fraser'd hair,
The b. mouraful air.-
woful smile

healthy frame of body. In both these particulars, the character of Wilfrid is exempt from the objections to which we think that of the Minstrel liable. At the period of the Civil Wars, in the higher orders of Society, intellectual refinement had advanced to a degree sufficient to give probability to its existence. The remainder of our argument will be best explained by the beautiful lines of the poet," (stanzas xxv. and Xxvi.)-Critical Review.

1 MS.-" And first must Wilfrid woo," &c.
MS.-"The fuel fond her favor threw."
MS.-"Now frowning dark on different side,

Their vassals and their lords divide."

MS.-"Dame Alice and Matilda bright,

Somet

Some

Then,

Ah!

cheek a while,

he thought,

has wrought;

Recordian brakes,

Of kin

Each

e wound she makes,

the dreamer's pain,

As food from the vein.

All th

Wilfri

turn his eyes,

the sun arise.

To wds is still o'ercast, While the stormy blast;

She c

rear away,

Yet s

e into day,

She c

te that weary hour,

Wher

"Tis s

rei's magic power.

Her

Lend to thy brow their sullen dye!1 How should thy pure and peaceful eye Untroubled view our scenes below, Or how a tearless beam supply

To light a world of war and woe!

Fair Queen! I will not blame thee now,
As once by Greta's fairy side;
Each little cloud that dimm'd thy brow
Did then an angel's beauty hide.
And of the shades I then could chide,
Still are the thoughts to memory dear,
For while a softer strain I tried,

They hid my blush, and calm'd my fear.

Then did I swear thy ray serene

Was form'd to light some lonely dell, By two fond lovers only seen,

Reflected from the crystal well, Or sleeping on their mossy cell,

Or quivering on the lattice bright, Or glancing on their couch, to tell

How swiftly wanes the summer night!

XXXIV.

He starts-a step at this lone hour!
A voice-his father seeks the tower,
With haggard look and troubled sense,
Fresh from his dreadful conference.
"Wilfrid !-what, not to sleep address'd?
Thou hast no cares to chase thy rest.
Mortham has fall'n on Marston-moor;2
Bertram brings warrant to secure
His treasures, bought by spoil and blood,
For the State's use and public good.
The menials will thy voice obey;
Let his commission have its way,3
In every point, in every word."—
Then, in a whisper,-" Take thy sword!
Bertram is-what I must not tell.
I hear his hasty step-farewell!"4

the best of Mr. Scott's attempts in this kind. He, certainly,
is not in general successful as a song-writer; but, without any
extraordinary effort, here are pleasing thoughts, polished ex-
pressions, and musical versification."--Monthly Review.
1 MS.-"Are tarnishing thy lovely dye!
A sad excuse let Fancy try-

How should so kind a planet show
Her stainless silver's lustre high,

To light a world of war and woe !"

2 MS.-"Here's Risingham brings tidings sure,
Mortham has fall'n on Marston-moor;
And he hath warrant to secure,' "&c
MS.-"See that they give his warrant way."

4 With the MS. of stanzas xxviii. to xxxiv. Scott thus addresses his printer:-"I send you the whole of the canto. I wish Erskine and you would look it over together, and consider whether upon the whole matter, it is likely to make an impression. If it does really come to good, I think there are no limits to the interest of that style of composition; for the variety of life and character are boundless.

Rokeby.

CANTO SECOND.

I.

FAR in the chambers of the west,
The gale had sigh'd itself to rest;
The moon was cloudless now and clear,
But pale, and soon to disappear.
The thin gray clouds wax dimly light
On Brusleton and Houghton height;
And the rich dale, that eastward lay,
Waited the wakening touch of day,
To give its woods and cultured plain,
And towers and spires to light again.
But, westward, Stanmore's shapeless swell,
And Lunedale wild, and Kelton-fell,
And rock-begirdled Gilmanscar,
And Arkingarth, lay dark afar;
While, as a livelier twilight falls,
Emerge proud Barnard's banner'd walls.
High crown'd he sits, in dawning pale,
The sovereign of the lovely vale.

II.

What prospects, from his watch-tower high,
Gleam gradual on the warder's eye!-
Far sweeping to the east, he sees
Down his deep woods the course of Tees,
And tracks his wanderings by the steam
Of summer vapors from the stream;
And ere he paced his destined hour
By Brackenbury's dungeon-tower,
These silver mists shall melt away,
And dew the woods with glittering spray.
Then in broad lustre shall be shown
That mighty trench of living stone,'
And each huge trunk that, from the side,
Reclines him o'er the darksome tide,

"I don't know whether to give Matilda a mother or not. Decency requires she should have one; but she is as likely to be in my way as the gudeman's mother, according to the prov erb, is always in that of the gude wife. Yours truly, W. S.Abbotsford," (Oct. 1812.)

"We cannot close the first Canto without bestowing the highest praise on it. The whole design of the picture is excellent; and the contrast presented to the gloomy and fearful opening by the calm and innocent conclusion, is masterly. Never were two characters more clearly and forcibly set in opposition than those of Bertram and Wilfrid. Oswald completes the group; and, for the moral purposes of the painter, is perhaps superior to the others. He is admirably designed That middle course to steer To cowardice and craft so dear.'"

Monthly Review.

See Appendix, Note L.
MS.-"Betwixt the gate and Baliol's tower."
MS." Those deep-hewn banks of living stone."