Thus Nature spake-The work was done―

How soon my Lucy's race was run!

She died, and left to me

This heath, this calm, and quiet scene;
The memory of what has been,

And never more will be.

X.

A SLUMBER did my spirit seal;

I had no human fears:

She seem'd a thing that could not feel
The touch of earthly years.

No motion has she now, no force;

She neither hears nor sees,

Rolled round in earth's diurnal course

With rocks and stones and trees!

XI.

THE HORN OF EGREMONT CASTLE*.

WHEN the Brothers reached the gateway,

Eustace pointed with his lance

To the Horn which there was hanging;

Horn of the inheritance.

Horn it was which none could sound,

No one upon living ground,

Save He who came as rightful Heir

To Egremont's Domains and Castle fair.

*This Poem and the Ballad which follows it, as they rather refer to the imagination than are produced by it, would not have been placed here but to avoid a needless multiplication of the Classes.

Heirs from ages without record

Had the House of Lucie born,

Who of right had claim'd the Lordship
By the proof upon the Horn:

Each at the appointed hour

Tried the Horn,-it own'd his power;

He was acknowledged: and the blast,
Which good Sir Eustace sounded, was the last.

With his lance Sir Eustace pointed,

And to Hubert thus said he,

"What I speak this Horn shall witness

"For thy better memory.

"Hear, then, and neglect me not!

"At this time, and on this spot,

"The words are utter'd from my heart,

"As

my

last earnest prayer ere we depart.

"On good service we are going

"Life to risk by sea and land;

"In which course if Christ our Saviour

"Do my sinful soul demand,

"Hither come thou back straightway,

"Hubert, if alive that day;

Return, and sound the Horn, that we

"May have a living House still left in thee!"

"Fear not," quickly answer'd Hubert; "As I am thy Father's son,

"What thou askest, noble Brother,
"With God's favour shall be done."

So were both right well content:
From the Castle forth they went.
And at the head of their Array

To Palestine the Brothers took their way.

Side by side they fought (the Lucies

Were a line for valour fam'd)

And where'er their strokes alighted

There the Saracens were tam'd.

Whence, then, could it come the thought,

By what evil spirit brought?

Oh! can a brave Man wish to take

His Brother's life, for Land's and Castle's sake?

"Sir!" the Ruffians said to Hubert,

"Deep he lies in Jordan flood."-
Stricken by this ill assurance,
Pale and trembling Hubert stood.
"Take your earnings."-Oh! that I
Could have seen my Brother die!
It was a pang that vex'd him then;
Aud oft returned, again, and yet again.

Months pass'd on, and no Sir Eustace!
Nor of him were tidings heard.

Wherefore, bold as day, the Murderer
Back again to England steer'd.

To his Castle Hubert sped;

He has nothing now to dread.

But silent and by stealth he came,

And at an hour which nobody could name.

None could tell if it were night-time,

Night or day, at even or morn;

For the sound was heard by no one

Of the proclamation-horn.

But bold Hubert lives in glee:

Months and years went smilingly;

With plenty was his table spread;

And bright the Lady is who shares his bed.

Likewise he had Sons and Daughters;

And, as good men do, he sate

At his board by these surrounded,
Flourishing in fair estate.

And, while thus in open day

Once he sate, as old books say,

A blast was utter'd from the Horn,

Where by the Castle-gate it hung forlorn.