To travel or by land or main,

Deep penance may I pay !—

Now, saintly Palmer, mark my prayer:

I give this packet to thy care,

For thee to stop they will not dare;
And O! with cautious speed,

To Wolsey's hand the papers bring,

That he

may shew them to the King;

And, for thy well-earned meed, Thou holy man, at Whitby's shrine

A weekly mass shall still be thine,

While priests can sing and read.

What ail'st thou ?-Speak!"-For as he took

The charge, a strong emotion shook

His frame; and, ere reply,

They heard a faint, yet shrilly tone,

Like distant clarion feebly blown,

That on the breeze did die;

And loud the Abbess shrieked in fear,

"Saint Withold save us !-What is here!

Look at yon City Cross!

See on its battled tower appear

Phantoms, that scutcheons seem to rear,

And blazoned banners toss !"

XXV.

Dun-Edin's Cross, a pillar'd stone,

Rose on a turret octagon;

(But now is razed that monument,

Whence royal edict rang,

And voice of Scotland's law was sent In glorious trumpet clang. O! be his tomb as lead to lead, Upon its dull destroyer's head!A minstrel's malison* is said.-) Then on its battlements they saw A vision, passing Nature's law,

Strange, wild, and dimly seen; Figures that seemed to rise and die,

Gibber and sign, advance and fly,

i. c. Curse.

While nought confirmed could ear or eye

Discern of sound or mien.

Yet darkly did it seem, as there

Heralds and Pursuivants prepare,

With trumpet sound, and blazoned fair,

A summons to proclaim;

But indistinct the pageant proud,

As fancy forms of midnight cloud,

When flings the moon upon her shroud
A wavering tinge of flame;

It flits, expands, and shifts, till loud,
From midmost of the spectre crowd,

This awful summons came :—

XXVI.

"Prince, prelate, potentate, and peer,

Whose names I now shall call,

Scottish, or foreigner, give ear!

Subjects of him who sent me here,

At his tribunal to appear,

I summon one and all:

I cite you by each deadly sin,

That e'er hath soiled your hearts within ;

I cite you by each brutal lust,

That e'er defiled your earthly dust,—
By wrath, by pride, by fear,

By each o'er-mastering passion's tone,
By the dark grave, and dying groan!
When forty days are past and gone,

I cite you, at your Monarch's throne,
To answer and appear.".

Then thundered forth a roll of names :

The first was thine, unhappy James!

Then all thy nobles came;

Crawford, Glencairn, Montrose, Argyle,

Ross, Bothwell, Forbes, Lennox, Lyle,

Why should I tell their separate style?

Each chief of birth and fame,

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