XIII. 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. Heirs from ages without record Had the House of Lucie born, Who of right had claimed the Lordship By the proof upon the Horn: Each at the appointed hour Tried the Horn, it owned 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 uttered 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 answered Hubert; What thou askest, noble Brother, To Palestine the Brothers took their way. Side by side they fought (the Lucies And where'er their strokes alighted, There the Saracens were tamed. 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, 66 Deep he lies in Jordan flood," Stricken by this ill assurance, Pale and trembling Hubert stood. Months passed on, and no Sir Eustace! 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, But bold Hubert lives in glee: 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, And while thus in open day Once he sate, as old books say, A blast was uttered from the Horn, Where by the Castle-gate it hung forlorn. 'Tis the breath of good Sir Eustace! He is come to claim his right: Ancient Castle, Woods, and Mountains Hear the challenge with delight. Hubert! though the blast be blown He is helpless and alone: Thou hast a dungeon, speak the word! And there he may be lodged, and thou be Lord Speak! astounded Hubert cannot; "Tis Sir Eustace; if it be Living Man, it must be he! Thus Hubert thought in his dismay, Long, and long was he unheard of: Then in a Convent went to hide His melancholy head, and there he died. But Sir Eustace, whom good angels Lived with honour on his lands. Sons he had, saw Sons of theirs: And through ages, Heirs of Heirs, A long posterity renowned, Sounded the Horn which they alone could sound. |