When, into one of those same spotted bells
A bee came darting, which the child with joy
Imprisoned there, and held it to his ear,
And suddenly grew black, as he would die.
Mar. We have no time for this, my babbling gossip;
Here's what will comfort you. [Gives her money.
Beg.
The Saints reward you

For this good deed!-Well, sirs, this passed away;
And afterwards I fancied, a strange dog,
Trotting alone along the beaten road,

Came to my child as by my side he slept,

And, fondling, licked his face, then on a sudden
Snapped fierce to make a morsel of his head:

But here he is, [kissing the child] it must have been a dream.

Osw. When next inclined to sleep, take my advice, And put your head, good woman, under cover.

Beg. Oh, sir, you would not talk thus, if you knew
What life is this of ours, how sleep will master
The weary-worn. - You gentle folk have got
Warm chambers to your wish. I'd rather be
A stone than what I am. -But two nights gone,
The darkness overtook me - wind and rain
Beat hard upon my head-and yet I saw
A glow-worm, through the covert of the furze,
Shine calmly as if nothing ailed the sky:

At which I half accused the God in Heaven.-
You must forgive me.

Osw.
Ay, and if you think
The fairies are to blame, and you should chide
Your favourite saint-no matter this good day
Has made amends.

Beg.
Thanks to you both; but, O sir!
How would you like to travel on whole hours
As I have done, my eyes upon the ground,
Expecting still, I knew not how, to find
A piece of money glittering through the dust.
Mar. This woman is a prater. Pray, good lady!
Do
you tell fortunes?
Beg.
O, sir, you are like the rest.
This little-one-it cuts me to the heart-
Well! they might turn a beggar from their doors,
But there are mothers who can see the babe
Here at my breast, and ask me where I bought it:
This they can do, and look upon my face-
But you, sir, should be kinder.

Mar.
Come hither, fathers,
And learn what nature is from this poor wretch!
Beg. Ay, sir, there's nobody that feels for us.
Why now but yesterday I overtook
A blind old greybeard and accosted him,
I' th' name of all the saints, and by the Mass
He should have used me better! - Charity!
If you can melt a rock, he is your man;
But I'll be even with him- here again
Have I been waiting for him.

Osw.
Who is it that hath wronged you?

Beg.

Well, but softly,

Mark you me;

I'll tell you:

He has the very hardest heart on earth;
I had as lief turn to the Friar's school
And knock for entrance, in mid holiday.
Mar. But to your story.

Beg.
I was saying, Sir-
Well!- he has often spurned me like a toad,
But yesterday was worse than all; — at last
I overtook him, sirs, my babe and I,
And begged a little aid for charity:
But he was snappish as a cottage cur.

Well then, says I-I'll out with it; at which

I cast a look upon the girl, and felt

As if my heart would burst; and so I left him.
Osw. I think, good woman, you are the very person
Whom, but a few days past, I saw in Eskdale,
At Herbert's door.

He, in the preference, modest youth, might take,
I neither know nor care. The insult bred
More of contempt than hatred; both are flown;
That either e'er existed is my shame:
'T was a dull spark-a most unnatural fire
That died the moment the air breathed upon it.

These fools of feeling are mere birds of winter
That haunt some barren island of the north,
Where, if a famishing man stretch forth his hand,
They think it is to feed them. I have left him
To solitary meditation; — now

For a few swelling phrases, and a flash
Of truth, enough to dazzle and to blind,
And he is mine for ever
here he comes.

Mar. Let us begone and bring her hither; — here The truth shall be laid open, his guilt proved Before her face. The rest be left to me.

Osw. You will be firm: but though we well may trust
The issue to the justice of the cause,
Caution must not be flung aside; remember,
Yours is no common life. Self-stationed here,
Upon these savage confines, we have seen you
Stand like an isthmus 'twixt two stormy seas
That oft have checked their fury at your bidding.
'Mid the deep holds of Solway's mossy waste,
Your single virtue has transformed a band
Of fierce barbarians into ministers

Of peace and order. Aged men with tears
Have blessed their steps, the fatherless retire
For shelter to their banners. But it is,
As you must needs have deeply felt, it is
In darkness and in tempest that we seek
The majesty of Him who rules the world.
Benevolence, that has not heart to use
The wholesome ministry of pain and evil,
Becomes at last weak and contemptible.
Your generous qualities have won due praise,
But vigorous spirits look for something more
Than youth's spontaneous products; and to-day
You will not disappoint them; and hereafter-

Mar. You are wasting words; hear me then, once for all:

Which to our kind is natural as life,

Be known unto you, you will love this woman,
Even as I do; but I should loathe the light,
If I could think one weak or partial feeling-
Osw. You will forgive me
Mar.
If I ever knew
My heart, could penetrate its inmost core,
'Tis at this moment. - Oswald, I have loved
To be the friend and father of the oppressed,
A comforter of sorrow; there is something
Which looks like a transition in my soul,
And yet it is not. — Let us lead him hither.
Osw. Stoop for a moment; 't is an act of justice;
And where's the triumph if the delegate

Must fall in the execution of his office?
The deed is done - if you will have it so-
Here where we stand - that tribe of vulgar wretches
(You saw them gathering for the festival)
Rush in-the villains seize us

I had many hopes

Mar. That were most dear to me, and some will bear To be transferred to thee. Osw. When I'm dishonoured! Mar. I would preserve thee. How may this be done? Osw. By showing that you look beyond the instant. A few leagues hence we shall have open ground, And nowhere upon earth is place so fit To look upon the deed. Before we enter The barren moor, hangs from a beetling rock The shattered castle in which Clifford oft Has held infernal orgies with the gloom, And very superstition of the place, Seasoning his wickedness. The debauchee Would there perhaps have gathered the first fruits Of this mock father's guilt.

Our little fire sent forth a cheering warmth
And we were comforted, and talked of comfort;
But 't was an angry night, and o'er our heads
The thunder rolled in peals that would have made
A sleeping man uneasy in his bed.

O lady, you have need to love your father.
His voice methinks I hear it now, his voice
When, after a broad flash that filled the cave,
He said to me, that he had seen his child,
A face (no cherub's face more beautifu!)

That I have been his comforter till now!
And will be so through every change of fortune
And every sacrifice his peace requires.—

and IDONEA with them.

First Pil. A grove of darker and more lofty shade I never saw.

Sec. PiL The music of the birds

Dos dendened from a roof so thick with leaves.

(2 Pil. This news! It made my heart leap up with

Myself, I heard

le. I scarcely can believe it. (A PL The Sherff read, in open court, a letter Wach surported it was the royal pleasure The Buron Herbert, who, as was supposed, ris taken refuge in this neighbourhood, Said be forthwith restored. The hearing, lady, F. my dim eyes with tears. When I returned Fra Paesine, and brought with me a heart, Taga rich in heavenly, poor in earthly, comfort, I get your father, then a wandering outcast: He bad a guide, a shepherd's boy; but grieved i was that one so young should pass his youth In such sad service; and he parted with him. Wexned our tales of wretchedness together, Asi begged our daily bread from door to door. I tas tamilarly to you, sweet lady! Frence you loved me.

You shall back with me And see your friend again. The good old man We rejoiced to greet you.

It seems but yesterday

[Exeunt IDONEA and Pilgrims.

I hope Idonea is well housed. That horseman,
Who at full speed swept by us where the wood
Roared in the tempest, was within an ace
Of sending to his grave our precious charge:
That would have been a vile mischance.

Mar.
It would.
Osw. Justice had been most cruelly defrauded.
Mar. Most cruelly.

I saw a distant fire in the north-east;

I took it for the blaze of Cheviot Beacon :

With proper speed our quarters may be gained

To-morrow evening.

[Looks restlessly towards the mouth of the dungeon.
Mar.
When, upon the plank,

I had led him 'cross the torrent, his voice blessed me:
You could not hear, for the foam beat the rocks
With deafening noise, -the benediction fell
Back on himself; but changed into a curse.

Her.

To waken our stray Baron. Were there not
A farm or dwelling-house within five leagues,
We should deserve to wear a cap and bells,
Three good round years, for playing the fool here
In such a night as this.

Mar.
These drowsy shiverings,
This mortal stupor which is creeping over me,
What do they mean? were this my single body
Opposed to armies, not a nerve would tremble:
Why do I tremble now? Is not the depth
Of this man's crimes beyond the reach of thought?
And yet, in plumbing the abyss for judgment,
Something I strike upon which turns my mind
Back on herself, I think, again - my breast
Concentrates all the terrors of the Universe:
I look at him and tremble like a child.
Osw. Is it possible?

Mar.
One thing you noticed not:
Just as we left the glen a clap of thunder
Burst on the mountains with hell-rousing force.
This is a time, said he, when guilt may shudder;
But there's a Providence for them who walk
In helplessness, when innocence is with them.
At this audacious blasphemy, I thought
The spirit of vengeance seemed to ride the air.

Oh! but you are young;

Over your head twice twenty years must roll,
With all their natural weight of sorrow and pain,
Ere can be known to you how much a father
May love his child.

Mar.
Thank you, old man, for this! [Aside.
Her. Fallen am I, and worn out, a useless man;
Kindly have you protected me to-night,

And no return have I to make but prayers;
May you in age be blessed with such a daughter!
When from the Holy Land I had returned
Sightless and from my heritage was driven,
A wretched outcast - but this strain of thought
Would lead me to talk fondly.