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Now a step or two her way
The day is placid in its going, To a lingering motion bound, Like the river in its flowingCan there be a softer sound? So the balmy minutes pass, While this radiant Creature lies Couched upon the dewy grass, Pensively with downcast eyes. -When now again the people rear A voice of praise, with awful cheer! It is the last, the parting song;. And from the temple forth they chrongAnd quickly spread themselves abroadWhile each pursues his several road. But some, a variegated band, Of middle-aged, and old, and young, And little children by the hand Upon their leading mothers hung, Turn, with obeisance gladly paid, Towards the spot, where, full in view, The lovely Doe of whitest hue, Her sabbath couch has made.
It was a solitary mound;
The presence of this wandering Doe
say, among these holy places,
She sees a warrior carved in stone,
But bers are eyes serenely bright,
« Look, there she is, my Child! draw near; She fears noi, wherefore should we fear? She means no harm;»-but still the Boy, To whom the words were softly said, Hung back, and smiled and blushed for joy, A shame-faced blush of glowing red! Again the Mother whispered Jow, « Now you have seen the famous Doe; From Rylstone she bath found her way Over the hills this sabbath-day; Her work, wliate'er it be, is done, And she will depart when we are gone; Thus doth she keep from year to year, Her sabbath morning, foul or fair.»
This whisper soft repeats what he Had known from early infancy. Bright is the Creature-as in dreams The Boy had seen her-yea more bright; But is she truly what she seems? He asks with insecure delight, Asks of himself and doubts-and still The doubt returns against his will : Though he, and all the standers-by, Could tell a tragic luistory Of facts divulged, wherein appear Substantial motive, reason clear, Why thus the milk-white Doe is found Couchant beside that lonely mound; And why she duly loves to pace The circuit of this hallowed place. Nor to the Child's inquiring mind Is such perplexity confined :
For, spite of sober truth, that sees
That bearded, staff-supported Sire,
of unavailing prayer;
Wild notes sbe in his hearing sang,
of Nature's hidden powers;
could see the hidden spring,
Ah, pensive Scholar, think not so, But look again at the radiant Doe! What quiet watch she seems to keep, Alone, beside that grassy heap!
Pass, pass who will, yon chantry door; (6) And, through the chink in the fractured floor Look down, and see a griesly sight; A vault where the bodies are buried upright! There, face by face, and hand by hand, The Claphams and Mauleverers stand; And, in his place, among son and sire, Is John de Clapham, that fierce Esquire, A valiant man, and a name of dread, To the ruthless wars of the White and Red; Who dragged Earl Pembroke from Banbury church, And smole off his head on the stones of the porch! Look down among them, if you dare; Oft does the White Doe loiter there, Prying into the darksome rent; Nor can it be with good intent; So thinks that Dame of baughty air, Who hath a Page ber book to hold, And wears a frontet edged with gold. Well may her thoughts be harsh : for she Numbers among her ancestry Earl Pembroke, slain so impiously!
Why mention other thoughts unmeet For vision so composed and sweet? While stand the people in a ring, Gazing, doubting, questioning; Yea, many overcome in spite Of recollections clear and bright; Which yet do unto some impart An undisturbed repose of heart. And all the assembly own a law Of orderly respect and awe; But see—they vanish, one by one, And last, the Doe herself is gone.
That slender Youth, a scholar pale, From Oxford come to his native vale, He also hath his own conceit: It is, thinks he, the gracious Fairy, Who loved the Shepherd Lord to meet (7) In his wanderings solitary :
Harp! we have been full long beguiled By busy dreams, and fancies wild; To which, with no reluctant strings, 'Thou hast attuned ily murmurios; And now before this Pile we stand In solitude, and utter peace : But, harp! thy murmurs may not cease Thou hast breeze-like visitings; For a Spirit with angel wings
Hath touched thee, and a Spirit's band:
The Harp in lowliness obeyed;
For She it was-this Maid, who wrought Weekly, with foreboding thought, In vermeil colours and in gold An unblest work; which, standing by, Her father did with joy behold, Exalting in the imagery; A banner, one that did fulfil Too perfecuy his headstrong will: For on this Banner had her hand Embroidered (such was the command) The Sacred Cross; and figured there The five dear wounds our Lord did bear; Fall soon to be uplifted high, And float in rueful company!
It was the time when England's Queen Twelve years had reigned, a Sovereign dread; Nor yet the restless crown had been Disturbed upon her virgin head; But now the inly-working North Was ripe to send its thousands forth, A potent vassalace, to fight la Percy's and in Neville's right, Two Earls fast leagued in discontent, Who gave ibeir wishes open vent; And boldly urged a general plea, The rites of ancient piely To be triumphantly restored, By the dread justice of the sword! And that same Banner, on whose breast The blarreless Lady had exprest Memorials chosen to give life Apd sunshine to a dangerous strife; That Banner, waiting for the call, Stood quietly in Rylstone Hall.
It came, -and Francis Norton said, O Father! rise not in this frayThe hairs are wbite upon your head; Dear Father, hear me when I say li is for you too late a day! Berbink you of your own good name: A just and gracious Queen have we,
But not for lordship or for land,
Loud noise was in the crowded hall,
Forth when Sire and Sons appeared
But Francis, in the vacant hall,
There stood he, leaning on a lance
pure religion, and the claim
He saw her where in open view
He paused, her silence to partake, And long it was before he spake: Then, all at once, his thoughts turned round, And fervent words a passage
« Gone are they, bravely, though misled; With a dear Father at their head! The Sons obey a natural lord; The Father bad given solemn word To noble Percy,-and a force, Still stronger, bends him to lus course. This said, our tears to-day may fall As at an innocent funeral. Ju deep and awful channel runs This sympathy of Sire and Sons; Untried our Brothers were beloved, And now their faithfulness is proved; For faithful we must call them, bearing That soul of conscientious daring. -There were they all in circle-there Stood Richard, Ambrose, Christopher, John with a sword that will not fail, And Marmaduke in fearless mail, And those bright Twins were side by side; And there, by fresh hopes beautified, Stood Ble, whose arm yet lacks the power Of man, our youngest, fairest flower! I, by the right of cldest born, And in a second father's place, Presumeil to grapple with their scorn, And meet their piiy face to face; Yca, trusting in God's holy aid, I to my Father knelt and prayed, And one, the pensive Marmaduke, Methought, was yielding inwardly, And would have laid his purpose by, But for a glance of his Father's eye, Which I myself could scarcely brook.
« For thee, for thee, is left the sense
« Then be we, cach, and all, forgiven!
If on one thought our minds have fed,
He ended, - or she lieard no more : He led her from the Yew-tree shade, Avd at the Mansion's silent door, lie kissed the consecrated Maid; And down the Valley he pursued, Alone, the armed Multitude.
Now joy for you and sudden cheer,
The Norton fixed, at this demand,
eye upon Northumberland,
- Brave Earls! to whose heroic veins
- This bring I from an ancient hearth,
Uplift the Standard!» was the cry
huive heard, Much injured Earls! by these preferred, Is offered to the Saints, the sigh Of tens of thousands, secretly.”
Said fearless Norton to the Pair Gone forth to hail him on the plain* This meeting, noble Lords ! looks fair, I brag witb me a goodly traiu; Their hearts are with you :-Will and dale Have helped us : – Ure we crossed, and Swale, And horse and harness followed-see The best part of their Yeomanry!
- Sund forth, my Sons!- these eight are mine,
My all save one, a Daughter dear!
He spake bare truth; for far and near From every side came noisy swarms Of Peasants in their homely gear, 1 ad, mixed with these, to Brancopeil came
Uplift it!» cried once more the Band, And then a thoughtful pause ensued.
Cplift it» said NorthumberlandWhereat, from all the multitude, Who saw the Bauver reared on high In all its dread emblazonry, With tumult and indignant rout A voice of ultermost joy brake out : The transport was rolled down the river of Were, And Durham, the time-honoured Durham, did hear, And the Towers of Saint Cuthbert were stirred by
Now was the North in arms :--they shume In warlike trim from Tweed to Tyne,