What against pity arms his heart?— It is the conscious pride of art.'

XXIII.

But principles in Edmund's mind
Were baseless, vague, and undefined.
His soul, like bark with rudder lost,
On Passion's changeful tide was tost;
Nor Vice nor Virtue had the power
Beyond the impression of the hour;
And, O! when Passion rules, how rare
The hours that fall to Virtue's share!
Yet now she roused her-for the pride,
That lack of sterner guilt supplied,
Could scarce support him when arose
The lay that mourn'd Matilda's woes.

Song.

THE FAREWELL.

The sound of Rokeby's woods I hear,
They mingle with the song:
Dark Greta's voice is in mine ear,
I must not hear them long.
From every loved and native haunt

The native Heir must stray,

And, like a ghost whom sunbeams daunt, Must part before the day.

Soon from the halls my fathers rear'd,
Their scutcheons may descend,
A line so long beloved and fear'd
May soon obscurely end.
No longer here Matilda's tone

Shall bid those echoes swell;
Yet shall they hear her proudly own
The cause in which we fell.

The lady paused, and then again Resumed the lay in loftier strain."

XXIV.

Let our halls and towers decay, Be our name and line forgot, Lands and manors pass away,— We but share our Monarch's lot. If no more our annals show

Battles won and banners taken, Still in death, defeat, and woe, Ours be loyalty unshaken!

Constant still in danger's hour,

Princes own'd our fathers' aid;

1 "Surely, no poet has ever paid a finer tribute to the power of his art, than in the foregoing description of its effects on the mind of this unhappy boy! and none has ever more justly appreciated the worthlessness of the sublimest genius, unre strained by reason, and abandoned by virtue."-Critical Review.

Lands and honors, wealth and power,
Well their loyalty repaid.
Perish wealth, and power, and pride!
Mortal boons by mortals given;
But let Constancy abide,—
Constancy's the gift of Heaven.

XXV.

While thus Matilda's lay was heard,
A thousand thoughts in Edmund stirr'd.
In peasant life he might have known
As fair a face, as sweet a tone;
But village notes could ne'er supply
That rich and varied melody;
And ne'er in cottage-maid was seen
The easy dignity of mien,

Claiming respect, yet waiving state,
That marks the daughters of the great.
Yet not, perchance, had these alone

His scheme of purposed guilt o'erthrown;
But while her energy of mind
Superior rose to griefs combined,
Lending its kindling to her eye,
Giving her form new majesty,-
To Edmund's thought Matilda seem'd
The very object he had dream'd;
When, long ere guilt his soul had known,
In Winston bowers he mused alone,
Taxing his fancy to combine
The face, the air, the voice divine,
Of princess fair, by cruel fate
Reft of her honors, power, and state,*
Till to her rightful realm restored
By destined hero's conquering sword.

XXVI.

"Such was my vision!" Edmund thought;
"And have I, then, the ruin wrought
Of such a maid, that fancy ne'er
In fairest vision form'd her peer?
Was it my hand that could unclose
The postern to her ruthless foes?
Foes, lost to honor, law, and faith,
Their kindest mercy sudden death!
Have I done this? I! who have swore,
That if the globe such angel bore,

I would have traced its circle broad,
To kiss the ground on which she trode !—
And now-O! would that earth would rive,
And close upon me while alive!—

Is there no hope? Is all then lost?—
Bertram's already on his post!

2 This couplet is not in the MS.

MS.-"Knightly titles, wealth and power.”

4 MS.-"Of some fair princess of romance, The guerdon of a hero's lance."

Even now,
beside the Hall's arch'd door,
I saw his shadow cross the floor!
He was to wait my signal strain-
A little respite thus we gain:
By what I heard the menials say,

Young Wycliffe's troop are on their way-
Alarm precipitates the crime!

My harp must wear away the time.”—
And then, in accents faint and low,
He falter'd forth a tale of woe.1

XXVII.

Ballad.

"And whither would you lead me, then?" Quoth the Friar of orders gray;

And the Ruffians twain replied again,
"By a dying woman to pray."—

"I see," he said, "a lovely sight,
A sight bodes little harm,
A lady as a lily bright,

With an infant on her arm.”—

"Then do thine office, Friar gray,

And see thou shrive her free?" Else shall the sprite, that parts to-night, Fling all its guilt on thee.

"Let mass be said, and trentrals read, When thou'rt to convent gone, And bid the bell of St. Benedict

Toll out its deepest tone."

The shrift is done, the Friar is gone,

Blindfolded as he cameNext morning, all in Littlecot Hall

Were weeping for their dame.

Wild Darrell is an altered man,

The village crones can tell;

He looks pale as clay, and strives to pray, If he hears the convent bell.

If prince or peer cross Darrell's way,
He'll beard him in his pride-
If he meet a Friar of orders gray,
He droops and turns aside.

XXVIII

"Harper! methinks thy magic lays,"
Matilda said, " can goblins raise!
Wellnigh my fancy can discern,
Near the dark porch, a visage stern;

1 The MS. has not this couplet.
MS.-" And see thy shrift be true,

Else shall the soul, that parts to-day,
Fling all its guilt on you."

See Appendix, Note 3 G,-(to which the author, in his interleaved copy, has made considerable additions.-ED.)

E'en now, in yonder shadowy nook,
I see it!-Redmond, Wilfrid, look!—
A human form distinct and clear-
God, for thy mercy!-It draws near!"
She saw too true. Stride after stride,

The centre of that chamber wide
Fierce Bertram gain'd; then made a stand,
And, proudly waving with his hand,
Thunder'd-" Be still, upon your lives!—
He bleeds who speaks, he dies who strives."
Behind their chief, the robber crew
Forth from the darken'd portal drew
In silence-save that echo dread
Return'd their heavy measured tread.‘
The lamp's uncertain lustre gave

Their arms to gleam, their plumes to wave;
File after file in order pass,

Like forms on Banquo's mystic glass.

Then, halting at their leader's sign,

At once they form'd and curved their line,
Hemming within its crescent drear
Their victims, like a herd of deer.
Another sign, and to the aim
Levell'd at once their muskets came,
As waiting but their chieftain's word,
To make their fatal volley heard.

XXIX.

Back in a heap the menials drew;
Yet, even in mortal terror, true,
Their pale and startled group oppose
Between Matilda and the foes.

"O, haste thee, Wilfrid!" Redmond cried;
"Undo that wicket by thy side!
Bear hence Matilda"-gain the wood-
The pass may be a while made good—
Thy band, ere this, must sure be nigh-
O speak not-dally not-but fly !”
While yet the crowd their motions hide,
Through the low wicket door they glide.
Through vaulted passages they wind,
In Gothic intricacy twined;
Wilfred half led, and half he bore,
Matilda to the postern-door,

And safe beneath the forest tree,
The Lady stands at liberty.
The moonbeams, the fresh gale's caress,
Renew'd suspended consciousness;—
"Where's Redmond ?" eagerly she cries:
"Thou answer'st not-he dies! he dies!
And thou hast left him, all bereft
Of mortal aid-with murderers left!

4 MS.-"Behind him came his savage crew
File after file in order due ;

Silent from that dark portal pass,
Like forms on Banquo's magic glass.”

MS.-"Conduct Matilda," &c.

I know it well-he would not yield
His sword to man-his doom is seal'd!

For my scorn'd life, which thou hast bought
At price of his, I thank thee not."

XXX.

The unjust reproach, the angry look,
The heart of Wilfrid could not brook.
"Lady," he said, "my band so near,
In safety thou mayst rest thee here.

For Redmond's death thou shalt not mourn,
If mine can buy his safe return."
He turn'd away-his heart throbb'd high,
The tear was bursting from his eye;
The sense of her injustice press'd
Upon the Maid's distracted breast,-
"Stay, Wilfrid, stay! all aid is vain!"
He heard, but turn'd him not again;
He reaches now the postern-door,
Now enters and is seen no more.

XXXI.

With all the agony that e'er

Was gender'd 'twixt suspense and fear,
She watch'd the line of windows tall,'
Whose Gothic lattice lights the Hall,
Distinguish'd by the paly red
The lamps in dim reflection shed,"
While all beside in wan moonlight
Each grated casement glimmer'd white.
No sight of harm, no sound of ill,
It is a deep and midnight still.
Who look'd upon the scene, had guess'd
All in the Castle were at rest:
When sudden on the windows shone
A lightning flash, just seen and gone !3
A shot is heard-Again the flame
Flash'd thick and fast-a volley came
Then echo'd wildly, from within,
Of shout and scream the mingled din,
And weapon-clash and maddening cry,
Of those who kill, and those who die!-
As fill'd the Hall with sulphurous smoke,
More red, more dark, the death-flash broke;
And forms were on the lattice cast,
That struck, or struggled, as they past.

XXXII.

What sounds upon the midnight wind Approach so rapidly behind?

MS.-"Matilda, shrouded by the trees,

The line of lofty windows sees." "" MS.-"The dying lamps reflection shed,

While all around the moon's wan light, On tower and casement glimmer'd white; No sights bode harm, no sounds bode ill, It is as calm as midnight still." MB.-"A brief short flash," &c.

It is, it is, the tramp of steeds,
Matilda hears the sound: she speeds,
Seizes upon the leader's rein-
"O, haste to aid, ere aid be vain!
Fly to the postern-gain the Hall!"
From saddle spring the troopers all;*
Their gallant steeds, at liberty,
Run wild along the moonlight lea.
But, ere they burst upon the scene,
Full stubborn had the conflict been.
When Bertram mark'd Matilda's flight,
It gave the signal for the fight;
And Rokeby's veterans, seam'd with scars
Of Scotland's and of Erin's wars,
Their momentary panic o'er,

Stood to the arms which then they bore;
(For they were weapon'd, and prepared
Their Mistress on her way to guard.)
Then cheer'd them to the fight O'Neale,
Then peal'd the shot, and clash'd the steel;
The war-smoke soon with sable breath
Darken'd the scene of blood and death,
While on the few defenders close

The Bandits, with redoubled blows,
And, twice driven back, yet fierce and fell
Renew the charge with frantic yell.

XXXIII.

Wilfrid has fall'n-but o'er him stood
Young Redmond, soil'd with smoke and blood,
Cheering his mates with heart and hand
Still to make good their desperate stand.
"Up, comrades, up! In Rokeby halls
Ne'er be it said our courage falls.
What! faint ye for their savage cry,
Or do the smoke-wreaths daunt your eye?
These rafters have return'd a shout
As loud at Rokeby's wassail rout,
As thick a smoke these hearths have given
At Hallow-tide or Christmas-even."
Stand to it yet! renew the fight,
For Rokeby's and Matilda's right!
These slaves! they dare not, hand to hand,
Bide buffet from a true man's brand."
Impetuous, active, fierce, and young,
Upon the advancing foes he sprung.
Woe to the wretch at whom is bent
His brandish'd falchion's sheer descent!
Backward they scatter'd as he came,
Like wolves before the levin flame,"

4 MS." Haste to-postern-gain the Hall!' Sprung from their steeds the troopers all."

5 MS.-"For as it hap'd they were prepared."
In place of this couplet the MS. reads,

"And as the hall the troopers gain,
Their aid had wellnigh been in vain."

7 See Appendix, Note 3 H.

MS.-"Like wolves at lightning's midnight flame."

When, 'mid their howling conclave driven,
Hath glanced the thunderbolt of heaven.
Bertram rush'd on-but Harpool clasp'd'
His knees, although in death he gasp'd,
His falling corpse before him flung,
And round the trammell'd ruffian clung.
Just then, the soldiers fill'd the dome,
And, shouting, charged the felons home
So fiercely, that, in panic dread,
They broke, they yielded, fell, or fled."
Bertram's stern voice they heed no more,
Though heard above the battle's roar;
While, trampling down the dying man,
He strove, with volley'd threat and ban,
In scorn of odds, in fate's despite,
To rally up the desperate fight."

XXXIV.

Soon murkier clouds the Hall enfold
Than e'er from battle-thunders roll'd,
So dense, the combatants scarce know
To aim or to avoid the blow.
Smothering and blindfold grows the fight-
But soon shall dawn a dismal light!
Mid cries, and clashing arms, there came
The hollow sound of rushing flame;
New horrors on the tumult dire
Arise-the Castle is on fire!"
Doubtful, if chance had cast the brand,
Or frantic Bertram's desperate hand.
Matilda saw-for frequent broke
From the dim casements gusts of smoke.
Yon tower, which late so clear defined
On the fair hemisphere reclined,
That, pencill'd on its azure pure,
The eye could count each embrazure,
Now, swathed within the sweeping cloud,
Seems giant-spectre in its shroud;
Till, from each loop-hole flashing light,
A spout of fire shines ruddy bright,
And, gathering to united glare,
Streams high into the midnight air;
A dismal beacon, far and wide
That waken'd Greta's slumbering side.
Soon all beneath, through gallery long,
And pendent arch, the fire flash'd strong,
Snatching whatever could maintain,
Raise, or extend, its furious reign;

MS.-"Bertram had faced him; while he gasp'd In death, his knees old Harpool clasp'd, His dying corpse before him flung."

2 MS." So fiercely charged them that they bled, Disbanded, yielded, fell, or fled."

MS.-"To rally them against their fate,

And fought himself as desperate."
MS.-Chance-kindled 'mid the tumult dire,

The western tower is all on fire.
Matilda saw," &c.

Startling, with closer cause of dread, The females who the conflict fled, And now rush'd forth upon the plain, Filling the air with clamors vain.

XXXV.

But ceased not yet, the Hall within, The shriek, the shout, the carnage-din, Till bursting lattices give proof"

The flames have caught the rafter'd roof.
What! wait they till its beams amain
Crash on the slayers and the slain?
The alarm is caught-the drawbridge falls,
The warriors hurry from the walls,
But, by the conflagration's light,
Upon the lawn renew the fight.
Each struggling felon down was hew'd,
Not one could gain the sheltering wood;
But forth the affrighted harper sprung,
And to Matilda's robe he clung.
Her shriek, entreaty, and command,
Stopp'd the pursuer's lifted hand.'
Denzil and he alive were ta'en;
The rest, save Bertram, all are slain.

XXXVI.

And where is Bertram-Soaring high
The general flame ascends the sky;
In gather'd group the soldiers gaze
Upon the broad and roaring blaze,
When, like infernal demon, sent,
Red from his penal element,

To plague and to pollute the air,—
His face all gore, on fire his hair,
Forth from the central mass of smoke
The giant form of Bertram broke!
His brandish'd sword on high he rears,
Then plunged among opposing spears;
Round his left arm his mantle truss'd,
Received and foil'd three lances' thrust;
Nor these his headlong course withstood,"
Like reeds he snapp'd the tough ash-wood.
In vain his foes around him clung;
With matchless force aside he flung
Their boldest,-as the bull, at bay,
Tosses the ban-dogs from his way,
Through forty foes his path he made,
And safely gain'd the forest glade.

The MS. has not this couplet.
MS.
7 MS.

The glowing lattices give proof."
Her shrieks, entreaties, and commands,
Avail'd to stop pursuing brands."

8 MS.-"Where's Bertram now? In fury driven,
The general flame ascends to heaven;
The gather'd groups of soldiers gaze
Upon the red and roaring blaze."

The MS. wants this couplet.

10 MS." In vain the opposing spears withstood."

XXXVII.

Scarce was this final conflict o'er,
When from the postern Redmond bore
Wilfrid, who, as of life bereft,
Had in the fatal Hall been left,'
Deserted there by all his train;
But Redmond saw, and turn'd again.-
Beneath an oak he laid him down,
That in the blaze gleam'd ruddy brown,
And then his mantle's clasp undid;
Matilda held his drooping head,
Till, given to breathe the freer air,
Returning life repaid their care.
He gazed on them with heavy sigh,-
"I could have wish'd even thus to die !"
No more he said-for now with speed
Each trooper had regain'd his steed;
The ready palfreys stood array'd,
For Redmond and for Rokeby's Maid;
Two Wilfrid on his horse sustain,
One leads his charger by the rein.
But oft Matilda look'd behind,
As up the Vale of Tees they wind,
Where far the mansion of her sires
Beacon'd the dale with midnight fires.
In gloomy arch above them spread,
The clouded heaven lower'd bloody red;
Beneath, in sombre light, the flood
Appear'd to roll in waves of blood.
Then, one by one, was heard to fall
The tower, the donjon-keep, the hall.
Each rushing down with thunder sound,
A space the conflagration drown'd;
Till, gathering strength, again it rose,
Announced its triumph in its close,
Shook wide its light the landscape o'er,
Then sunk-and Rokeby was no more!"

Her duteous orisons to pay,

That morning sun has three times seen
The flowers unfold on Rokeby green,
But sees no more the slumbers fly
From fair Matilda's hazel eye;
That morning sun has three times broke
On Rokeby's glades of elm and oak,
But, rising from their silvan screen,
Marks no gray turrets glance between.
A shapeless mass lie keep and tower,
That, hissing to the morning shower,
Can but with smouldering vapor pay
The early smile of summer day.
The peasant, to his labor bound,
Pauses to view the blacken'd mound,
Striving, amid the ruin'd space,
Each well-remember'd spot to trace.
That length of frail and fire-scorch'd wall
Once screen'd the hospitable hall;
When yonder broken arch was whole,
"Twas there was dealt the weekly dole;
And where yon tottering columns nod,
The chapel sent the hymn to God.
So flits the world's uncertain span!
Nor zeal for God, nor love for man,
Gives mortal monuments a date
Beyond the power of Time and Fate.
The towers must share the builder's doom;
Ruin is theirs, and his a tomb:
But better boon benignant Heaven
To Faith and Charity has given,
And bids the Christian hope sublime
Transcend the bounds of Fate and Time.

II.

Now the third night of summer came,
Since that which witness'd Rokeby's flame.
On Brignall cliffs and Scargill brake
The owlet's homilies awake,

The bittern scream'd from rush and flag,
The raven slumber'd on his crag,
Forth from his den the otter drew,-
Grayling and trout their tyrant knew,
As between reed and sedge he peers,
With fierce round snout and sharpen'd ears,
Or, prowling by the moonbeam cool,
Watches the stream or swims the pool;-
Perch'd on his wonted eyrie high,
Sleep seals the tercelet's wearied eye,
That all the day had watch'd so well

4 MS." And bids our hopes ascend sublime Beyond the bounds of Fate and Time."

"Faith, prevailing o'er his sullen doom,

As bursts the morn on night's unfathom'd gloom,
Lured his dim eye to deathless hope sublime,
Beyond the realms of nature and of time."
CAMPBELL.

5 The MS. has not this couplet.