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Now a step or two her way
Is through space of open day,
Where the enamoured sunny light
Brightens her that was so bright;
Now doth a delicate shadow fall,
Falls upon her like a breath,
From some lofty arch or wall,
As she passes underneath:
Now some gloomy nook partakes
Of the glory that she makes, –
High-ribbed vault of stone, or cell
With perfect cunning framed as well
Of stone, and ivy, and the spread
Of the elder's bushy head;
Some jealous and forbidding cell,
That doth the living stars repel,
And where no flower hath leave to dwell.

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;
Which two spears' length of level ground
Did from all other graves

divide :
As if in some respect of pride;
Or melancholy's sickly mood,
Still shy of buman neighbourhood;
Or guilt, that humbly would express
A penitential loneliness.

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The presence of this wandering Doe
Fills many a damp obscure recess
With lustre of a saintly show;
And, re-appearing, she no less
To the open day gives blessedness.

say, among these holy places,
Which thus assiduously she paces,
Comes she with a votary's task,
Rile to perform, or boon to ask?
Fair Pilgrim! harbours she a sense
Of sorrow, or of reverence?
Can she be grieved for quire or shrine,
Crushed as if by wrath divine ?
For what survives of house where God
Was worshipped, or where Man abode;
For old magnificence undone;
Or for the gentler work begun
By Nature, softening and concealing,
And busy with a hand of healing, –
For altar, whence the cross was rent,
Now rich with mossy ornament,
Or dormitory's length laid bare,
Where the wild rose blossoms fair;
And sapling ash, whose place of birth
Is that lordly chamber's hearth?

She sees a warrior carved in stone,
Among the thick weeds, stretched alone
A warrior, with his shield of pride
Cleaving humbly to his side,
And hauds io resignation prest,
Palm lo palm, on his tranquil breast :
Methinks she passeth by the sight,
As a common creature might:
If she be doomed to inward care,
Or service, it must lie elsewhere.

But bers are eyes serenely bright,
And on she moves—with pace how light!
Nor spares to stoop her head, and taste
The dewy turf with flowers bestrown;
And thus she fares, until at last
Beside the ridge of a grassy grave
lo quietness she lays her down;
Gently as a weary wave
Sinks, when the summer breeze bath died,
Against an anchored vessel's side;
Even so, without distress, doth she
Lie down in peace, and lovingly.

« 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 :

A song

For, spite of sober truth, that sees
A world of fixed remembrances
Which to this mystery belong,
If, undeceived, my skill can trace
The characters of every face,
There lack not strange delusion here,
Conjecture vague, and idle fear,
And superstitious fancies strong,
Which do the gentle Creature wrong.

His eye

That bearded, staff-supported Sire,
(Who in his youth hath often fed
Full cheerily on convent-bread,
And heard old tales by the convent-fire,
And lately hatha brought home the scars
Gathered in long and distant wars)
That Old Man-studious to expound
The spectacle-hath mounted high
To days of dim antiquity;
Wheu Lady Aaliza mourned (5)
Her Son, and felt in her despair,
The pang

of unavailing prayer;
Her Son in Wharf's abysses drowned,
The noble Boy of Egremound.
From which aftliction, when God's grace
At length had in her heart found place,
A pious structure, fair to see,
Rose up-this stately Priory!
The Lady's work,—but now laid low;
To the grief of her soul that doth come and go,
In the beautiful form of this innocent Doe:
Which, though seemingly doomed in its breast to

A softened remembrance of sorrow and pain,
Is spotless, and holy, and gentle, and bright;
And glides o'er the earth like an angel of light.

Wild notes sbe in his hearing sang,

of Nature's hidden powers;
That whistled like the wind, and rang
Among the rocks and holly bowers.
'T was said that she all shapes could wear;
And oftentimes before him slood,
Amid the trees of some thick wood,
In semblance of a lady fair;
And taught him signs, and showed him sights,
In Craven's deus, on Cumbrian heights;
When under cloud of fear he lay,
A Shepherd clad in homely grey,
Nor left him at his later day.
And hence, when he, with spear and shield,
Rode full of years to Flodden field,

could see the hidden spring,
And how the current was to flow;
The fatal end of Scotland's King,
And all that hopeless overthrow.
But not in wars did he delight,
This Clifford wished for worthier might;
Nor in broad pomp, or courtly state:
Him his own thoughts did elevate,-
Most happy in the shy recess
Of Barden's humble quietness.
And choice of studious friends had he
Of Bolton's dear fraternity;
Who, standing on this old church tower,
In many a calm propitious bour,
Perused, with him, the starry sky;
Or, in their cells, with him did

For other lore,-through strong desire
Searching the earth with chemic fire:
But they and their good works are tled-
And all is now disquieted
And peace is none, for living or dead!

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:
A voice is with us--a command
To chani, in strains of heavenly glory,
A tale of tears, a mortal story!


The Harp in lowliness obeyed;
And first we sang of the green-wood shade,
And a solitary Maid;
Beginning, where the song must end,
With her, and with her sylvan Friend;
The Friend who stood before her sight,
Her only unextinguished light;
Her last companion in a dearth
Of love, upon a hopeless earth.

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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.

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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,
My Father, do I clasp your knees
The Banner touch not, stay your hand, -
This multitude of men disband,
And live at home in blaineless ease;
For these my brethren's sake, for me;
And, most of all, for Emily!»

Loud noise was in the crowded hall,
And scarcely could the Father hear
That name—wbich had a dying fall,
The name of his only Daughter dear,-
And on the banner which stood near
He glanced a look of holy pride,
And his moist eyes were glorified ;
Then seized the staff, and thus did

« Thou, Richard, bear'st thy father's name,
Keep thou this ensign till the day
When I of thee require the same:
Thy place be on my better hand;—
And seven as true as thou, I see,
Will cleave to this good cause and me.»
Hle spake, and eight brave sons straightway
All followed him, a gallant band !

Forth when Sire and Sons appeared
A gratulating shout was reared,
With din of arms and minstrelsy,
From all his warlike tenantry,
All horsed and harnessed with him to ride;
-A shout to which the hills replied !

But Francis, in the vacant hall,
Stood silent under dreary weight,-
A phantasm, in which roof and wall
Shook--tottered-swam before his sight;
A phantasm like a dream of niglit!
Thus overwhelmed, and desolate,
He found his way to a postern-gate;
And, when he waked at length, his eye
Was on the calm and silent sky;
With air about bim breathing sweet,
And earth's green grass beneath his feet;
Nor did he fail cre long to hear
A sound of military cheer,
Faint-but it reached that sheltered spot;
He heard, and it disturbed him not.

There stood he, leaning on a lance
Which he had grasped unknowingly,
Had blindly grasped in that strong trance,
That dimness of heart agony;
There stood he, cleansed from the despair
And sorrow of his fruitless prayer.
The past be calmly hath reviewed:
But where will be the fortitude
Of this brave Man, when he shall see
That Form beneath the spreading tree,
And know that it is Emily?
Oh! hide them from each other, hide,
Kind Heaven, this pair severely tried!

pure religion, and the claim
Of peace on our bumanity.
Tis meet that I endure your scorn, -
I am your son, your eldest born;

He saw her where in open view
She sate beneath the spreading yew, -
Her head upon her lap, concealing
lo solitude her bitter feeling;

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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
Of trial past without offence
To God or Man ;-such innocence,
Such consolation, and the excess
Of an unmerited distress;
In that thy very strength must lie.
-O Sister, I could prophesy!
The time is come that rings the knel!
Of all we loved, and loved so well;
Hope nothing, if I thus may speak
To thee a woman, and thence weak;
Hope nothing, I repeat; for we
Are doomed to perisha ulterly:
"T is meet that thou with me divide
The thought while I am by thy side,
Acknowledging a grace in this,
A comfort in the dark abyss :
But look not for me when I am gone,
And be no farther wrought upon.
Farewell all wishes, all debate,
All prayers for this cause, or for that!
Weep, if that aid thee; but depend
Upon no help of outward friend;
Espouse thy doom at once, and cleave
To fortitude without reprieve.
For we must fall, both we and ours, -
This Mansion and these pleasant bowers,
Walks, pools, and arbours, homestead, boll,
Our fate is theirs, will reach them all;
The young llorse must forsake his mapper,
And learn to glory in a Stranger ;
The Hawk forget his perch--the Hound
Be parted from his ancient ground:
The blast will sweep us all away,
One des lation, one decay!
And even this Creature!» winich words sayia;
He pointed to a lovely Doe,
A few steps distant, feeding, straying;
Fair Creature, and more wliite than show!
« Even she will to her peaceful woods
Return, and to her murmuring floods,
And be in heart and soul the same
She was before she hither

came, -
Ere she had learned to love us all,
Herself beloved in Rylstone Hall.
- But thou, my Sister, doomed to be
The last leaf which by heaven's decree
Must hang upon a blasted tree;
If not in vain we breatlied the breath
Together of a purer faith-
If hand in hand we have been led,
And thou, (0 happy thought this day!)
Not seldom foremost in the way-

« Then be we, cach, and all, forgiven!
Thee, chietly thee, my Sister dear,
Whose pangs are registered in heaven,
The suitled sighi, the luidden tear,
And smiles, that dared to take their place,
Mcek filial smiles, upon thy face,
As that unhallowed Banner grew
Beneath a loving old man's view.
Thy part is done-thy painful part;
Be thou then satisfied in heart!
A further, though far easier, task
Than thine hath been, my duties ask;
With theirs my efforts cannot blend,
I cannot for such cause contend;
Their aims I utterly forswear;
But I in body will be there.

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If on one thought our minds have fed,
And we have in one meaning read-
if, when at home our private weal
Iath suffered from the shock of zeal,
Together we have learned to prize
Forbearance and self-sacrifice-
If we like combatants have fared,
And for this issue been prepared
If thou art beautiful, and youth
And thought endue thee with all truth-
Be strong;- be worthy of the grace
of God, and fill thy destined place :
A Soul, by force of sorrows high.
l'plified to the purest sky
Of undisturbed humanity!»

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,
Ye Watchmen upon Brancepeth Towers; (8)
Looking forth in doubt and fear,
Telling melancholy hours!
Proclaim it, let your Masters hear
That Norton with his Band is near!
The Watchmen from their station high
Pronounced the word, -and the Earls descry
Forth with the armed Company
Marching down the banks of Were.

The Norton fixed, at this demand,

eye upon Northumberland,
And said, « The Minds of Men will own
No loyal rest while England's Crown
Remains without an lleir, the bait
Of strife and factions desperate;
Who, paying deadly hate in kind
Through all things else, in this can find
A mutual hope, a common mind;
And plot, and pant to overwhelm
All ancient honour in the realm.

- Brave Earls! to whose heroic veins
Our noblest blood is given in trust,
To you a suffering State complains,
And ye must raise her from the dust.
With wishes of still bolder scope
On you we look, with dearest hope,
Even for our Altars,--for the prize
In Heaven, of life that never dies;
For the old and holy Church we mourn,
And must in joy to her return.
Behold '»—and from his Son whose stand
Was on his right, from that guardian hand
He took the Banner, and unfurled
The precious folds--«bchold,» said he,
« The rausom of a sinful world;
Let this your preservation be, -
The wounds of hands and feet and side,
And the sacred Cross on which Jesus died!

- This bring I from an ancient hearth,
These Records wrought in pledge of love
By hands of po ignoble birth,
A Maid o'er whom the blessed Dove
Vouchsafed in gentleness to brood
While she the holy work pursued.

Uplift the Standard!» was the cry
From all the Listeners that stood round,
« Plant it, -by this we live or die»--
The Norton ceased not for that sound,
But said, “The prayer



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,
Whom to this service I commend;
Which way soe'er our fate incline,
These will be faithful to the end;
They are my all»-voice failed him here,

My all save one, a Daughter dear!
Whom I have left, the mildest birth,
The meekest Child on this blessed earth.
1 bad--but these are by my side,
These eight, and this is a day of pride!
The time is ripe-with festive din
Lo! how the people are tlocking in,
Like hungry Fowl to the Feeder's hand
When sow lies heavy upon the land.»

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

the sliout!

Now was the North in arms :--they shume In warlike trim from Tweed to Tyne,

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