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^,^^^caom^^/,^ 
 
 AN EPIC POEM 
 
 In Six Cantos, 
 
 BY 
 
 H. SACKVILLE TREHERNE. 
 
 " Quid di^um tantu feret hie proiiiissor hiatu " 
 
 Horace—" Dt Arte Poeticu." 
 
 " Hliall uoble Albion pass without a phrase 
 From a bold Briton in her wonted praise." 
 
 BvEON— " Age of Uronze. " 
 
 " TL» "good oUl times "—all times when old are goo<l— 
 Are gone ; the present might be if it would ; 
 (ireat things have been, and are, and greater still 
 Want little of mere mortals but their will." 
 
 Byeon— " ^(/e o/i»j /...jrc." 
 
 " I wish our clever young jKMits would remember my hoiuely deUnition of prose and 
 I'lttiy ; that is, prose— woids in their best order : poetry— the Itst wortls in ti.eir best 
 <ii-".Ier."— Coj-KRtiKJK 
 
 JAMES HOPE & Co., 
 
 CORNER SPARKS AND ELGIN STREETS, OTTAWA. 
 1874. 
 

 ■♦I 
 
 National Ubrary Blblk>th«que Rationale 
 of Canada du Canada 
 
 Bnterpd nccording \o Act of P*rliameiit of Canada, in the year one thonund eight 
 hnnired an-l sfeventy-fonr, by H. Saokvillb Trbhbrmb, in the Office of the Minister of 
 Agriculture. 
 
 ,\ 
 
 I 
 
t^ 
 
 X 
 
 |. |iiouittns I 
 
 lobcrte. 
 
 My Dear Tkllke, — Having long felt anxious to adorn my pages 
 with a name, at the same time classical, biblical, musical ami well 
 Ijeloved, 1 venture to dedicate to you this unworthy praluction of an 
 inexpi'rience<l pen, as a slij^ht but sincere token of admiration for your 
 j^eniuH, respect for your character, and gratitude for your friendship. 
 If it will do nothing else it, will prove to you that the gratification I 
 have derived from your society has not been forgotten, nor the hope 
 abandoned of again renewing, at some future period, the acquaintance 
 which flourished so well under the hospitable roof of Hcronsgate. 
 
 Truly and sincerely, 
 
 Your affectionate friend, 
 
 H. Sackvim.k Treherne, 
 Ottawa, May 27th, 1874. 
 
I 
 
u 
 
 SIE OSCAR OF THE HILL. 
 
 O.A.3SrTO I. 
 
 " One word alone can paint to thee 
 That more than feeling — I was Free." 
 
 Byron—" liride of Aby don."— Canto J. 
 
 "Hu, ha! ha, ha !" thus loudly hiugh 
 
 The followers of the knight, '' 
 
 "Ho never does a thing by half 
 
 When onco he draws to fight !" 
 What caused the vassals thus to speak ? 
 
 Why laughed they in that strain ? 
 Who was the knight ? his name J seeU, 
 
 And who, too, had he slain ? 
 
 List, noble hearers, to the song 
 
 A wandering minstrel sings. 
 Who tells a stoi-y doth belong 
 
 To bards of stronger wings. 
 His muse, I know, is verj' wrong 
 
 To touch another's strings. 
 
 O^yL 
 
 r 
 
 A knight there was of gieat renown. 
 Who was well known in every town 
 Upon the continent, and more, 
 In every town on England's shore. 
 And well he might be known, for ho 
 Had thrown Sir Guy of Normandy, 
 Famed for his skill with shield and sword. 
 And feared by all with whom he warred. 
 A knight there was, as I have sung, 
 Whose deeds were told by every tongue, 
 Whose praises formed the minstrel's lay, 
 Who honours fresh gained every day. 
 A knight there was — a British one — 
 Who thought it was the greatest fun 
 To topple o'er a well known knight. 
 And break his bones m playful tight. 
 His name — well known in every land, 
 On every sea, on every strand— 
 
Sir 08cnr of tho Hill, whoHo sire 
 llnd left him half of Devonshiro. 
 He WU8 a man of six foot three, 
 
 And broad to mutch his height. 
 His brawny arms, you'll all agree. 
 
 Ideals of strength and might. 
 Were formed of mtiscles firm and sound, 
 And harder you couid not have found. 
 His handsome face and graceful air 
 Would well become a lady fair. 
 His brow was lofty, did exi)ress 
 A true idea of perfectness. 
 His curly hair in clusters fell 
 On shoulders that had borne so well 
 The weight of armour gloaming bright 
 And dazzling in the sun's clear light. 
 His eyes, ah ! there I'll fail, I'm sure, 
 They were so bright and gay, nay more, 
 They sparkled, not like Champagne's wine, 
 But in a way far more di^fino, 
 Which very seldom can be seen ' 
 
 Save in a few young maids, I ween. 
 As Bessie. Clara, Constance and 
 Some pretty girls from Spanish land. 
 So huge he was in every limb 
 That nothing that formed part of him, 
 Seemed framed of aught but wood and stone. 
 And very iron seemed each bone. 
 In form and feature, he was all 
 A maid could wish to hold in thrall. 
 
 His sword — I deem it were a sin 
 
 To liken it to anything: 
 
 If Rodgers, cutler to tho Queen, 
 
 Lived at that time, its edges keen 
 
 Most likely made by him had been. 
 
 His lance — 'twas longer by three feet 
 
 Than any be had chanced to meet ; 
 
 The massy head surmounted clear 
 
 The ashen handle of this spear. 
 
 The point was sharp, and sure you'd wonder 
 
 How may shields it burst asunder. 
 
 His shield, for so the heralds say, 
 
 Was gules and chevron or, 
 And that you know's the only way 
 
 The heralds sneak. It is a bore — 
 
You novor can make out at all 
 Tlio tonguGH they uho in ilerulds' Hall. 
 (inlea, chevron or, betuKen three deer. 
 Upon his Hhiold dopictod wore. 
 
 Sir Oscar, so our hist'rios saj', 
 
 Ilnd fought the Norman band, 
 Which disembarked one autumn day 
 
 To conquer England's strand. 
 At Harold's side, on Hastings' tiold, 
 Sir Oscar's rich emblazoned shield 
 Was noticed by the knights, who thought 
 It best with William to have fought. 
 For fighting 'gainst him William had 
 
 Outlaw'd our knight, and all 
 The lands he owned gave to Conrad, 
 
 The Count of Epinal. 
 
 Count Conrad sent to claim the land 
 A chosen number from his band ; 
 But Oscar did not understand 
 Why Devon thus should leave his hand. 
 So, arming a few vassals, he 
 
 Set out to meet the men. 
 And soon compelled them all to flee 
 
 Back to their lord agaiiu 
 
 Count Conrad swore, and well ho might, 
 
 At this unseemly show, 
 And arming all for instant fight, 
 
 With sword, and spear, and bow, 
 Rode forth to meet Sir Oscar's troop, 
 And clear his way by one fell swoop 
 Of those bold Saxons, who had dared 
 Oppose a knight, who'd bravely shwed 
 Duke William's fortunes and success. 
 His troop, as near as I can guess, 
 Two hundred men-at-arms are so. 
 And Oscar had two score, I know ; 
 But Oscar's were of Saxon kin. 
 While Conrad's were all Frenchmen thin. 
 The knights met near where Lympstone stands, 
 Unequal were th' opposing bands, 
 But Oscar fought for home and lands ; 
 And tho' 'twas five to one, I'm sure 
 Tae Saxons wished there had been more. 
 Sir Oscar on his charger redo ' 
 
8 
 
 TowanlK tho finning Count (/onriKl, 
 And, whilo with dignity he Mlrodo, 
 J[y Mwayod tho flag oftrnoo ho had. 
 
 '• (V)unt Connul, why tliis arino<l arraj'? 
 ('(»mo yo to f'oHHt, or conio to slay? 
 
 C'oino yo in poaco or war? 
 » "oinc yc l»ure to hravo my Hcorn ? 
 (Jr I'oino to hlow tho hunting horn? 
 
 Conio yo in pouce or war ?" 
 
 "Sir Owcar, sinco tho kin^'^ l>ostowo<l 
 Thcfc laiui.s upon me, hero I rfjfle 
 To flaini nnno own from thee; 
 An outlaw art thou on tho earth, 
 And an a Saxon hy thy hirth, 
 'Tworo host to yield to me." 
 
 '• Yield ! yield ! and j^ray, is that your cry ? 
 Sir Count, I think vou'd liottor trv 
 
 To ])art mo from mine own. 
 On, Sa.Kons, on, and let iiim know 
 That Brilona never yield thorn ho. 
 
 But tijj;ht for iiearth imd home." 
 
 With »hiold on arm, and lanco at rost. 
 Sir Oscar spiirrwl towards tho ('ount, 
 
 Thro' armour bri<j;h( and thro' his hreaet 
 The spear unhorsetl him froin his mouit. 
 
 '• Ha, ha ! ha, ha !" thus loudly laugh 
 
 Tho followers of tho knight, 
 lie never does a thing by half 
 
 When once he draws to tight !" 
 
 Dismayed, alarmed, the Normans rushed 
 
 Uijon their dauntless foe, 
 Whilo Conrad groaned, and gripped the dust, 
 
 And st'ieameU with pain and woe 
 Tho' wounded sore, ho watched tho fight, 
 Whore Saxon pluck and Norman might 
 Waged deadly war, but, to his sight, 
 Tho number of his men that bite 
 Tho dust, before the shades of night 
 Wrapped up tho earth, was direst blight 
 To his fond hopes, for well he knew 
 No Norman host could fight those few, 
 And vict'rv crain, before thov slow 
 

 
 Pull thrico thoir count, that dauntloss crow. 
 
 But .soon the fight began to toll, 
 
 For Oscar'rt inon had fought ho woll, 
 
 That Hcatter'd far and wide thoy run, 
 
 That host, reduced to fifty-ono, 
 
 And each bold Norman lK)ro somowhero 
 
 Some mark of plucky 8ax(^n cheer. 
 
 Count Conrad yields him with bad grace, 
 
 While terror's painted on his face; 
 
 Ho thought of tortures, dungeons cold, 
 
 The same the Normans used of old, 
 
 And begged and prayed his Saxon foe 
 
 In mercy not to treat him bo. 
 
 Sir Oscar laughed in merry strain, 
 
 And said, " Does't think that wo would deign 
 
 To soil our hands with tort' ring theo ; 
 A Saxon is loo much a man 
 To torture foes whene'er he can. 
 
 Whoever thoy may chance to be." 
 
 -:»— O-OO-^- 
 
 B 
 
10 
 
 0-A.3SrT0 II. 
 
 " Who hath not proved how feebly words essay 
 To fix one spark of Beauty's heavenly ray ? 
 Who doth not feel, nijtil his failing sight 
 Faints into dimness with his own delight, 
 His changing cheek„ his sinking heart confess 
 The might, the majesty of Loveliness." 
 
 Byron— "JSnde of Abydos"— Canto 1 . 
 
 1 don't know if you've ever been 
 
 To Dawlish pebbly stand, 
 Nor could I say you'd ever seen 
 
 The cliffs upon the land ; 
 Those might}' cliffs, whose blood-rod face 
 
 The sea reflects below, 
 And at whose broad sea-beaten base 
 
 The fair sea-flowers giow. 
 If you hi.ve not, 'tis not my fault ; 
 
 But I have, and I saw 
 The blood-red cliffs, whicl^ made me halt 
 
 And wond'rin^, wonder more 
 What dreadful deed had caused the rock 
 To blush so very red, and shock 
 That mirror — Ocean's wavy breast — 
 With being so unlike the rest. 
 
 Tall, rugged, grand, the cliffs stand out 
 
 Against the azure sky ; 
 While Echo answers to your shout, 
 
 (If, when you're passing by, 
 You chance to call,) and throws the sound 
 To every ragged corner round. 
 Upon the clift's a wood is seen. 
 And as it shows its verdure green, 
 Like some vain girl on holidays, 
 You hear the birds sing roundelays 
 To their fond mates, or to their young, 
 Who may be hid the leaves among. 
 And further on, between yon crags, 
 
 You see the fields so gay. 
 Where once the noble antler'd stags 
 
 And timid deer would play, 
 And where they roamed, as blithe and free 
 As stags and deer are wont to be. 
 
 Upon these glorious cliflFs there stood 
 
 Sir Oscar's castled halls, 
 ^i.n'vriinMCvt tjy an ample wood. 
 
 JBeyond the castle walls. 
 
11 
 
 A donjon keep and all were there, 
 And bowers too for ladies fair. 
 Let's enter thro' the frowning gate, 
 And seek the chamber where of late 
 Count Conrad had been ling'ring through 
 An illness, which I fear that few 
 But hardy, hardened men could stand 
 In this degenerated land. 
 But why should I thus call a race 
 
 Of men, who science deep and sage 
 Personity ? In every case. 
 
 You find those men, who read the page 
 Of science deep, are always thin. 
 And weak, and poor ; their skin 
 Lacks healthy ruddiness; and then ^■' 
 
 Thej' are old men before their time ; 
 So why should my bad-mannered pen 
 
 Them call degen'rate in my rhyme. 
 But to return. Look well around. 
 The ceilings, walls and rush-strewn ground. 
 That tapestry, that hangs so free, 
 And pictures feats of chivalry, 
 Was made by Ella, Oscar's wife. 
 His heart's fond joy, his pride of life. 
 That chair, so rough and course in looks. 
 You'd only see in pictured books ; 
 That table, too, the very poor 
 Would cast at once outside the door; 
 That pallet hard a dog would spurn. 
 But then necessity so stern 
 Compelled our fathers to betake 
 
 Themselves to i-est on beds of straw. 
 And use such couches they could make 
 
 To raise their bodies from the floor. 
 
 The bed is occupied you see, 
 
 A pallid form lies there ; 
 His sunken cheeks are pale, for be 
 
 Knew sufferings severe. 
 It is Count Conrad, whom the knight 
 Had taken care of since the fight. 
 And near him on a stool there sat. 
 
 Singing a pleasant song. 
 Sir Oscar's bride, for whom he'd fought, 
 
 For whom he'd sued so long. 
 
 A prettier you will never see. 
 
12 
 
 Ella, tho queen of bonuty still, 
 Was niece of XJlf, the Prince of Ryhl. 
 To gain her Oscar had to %ht 
 Many a grimly visaged Jtnight. 
 Those scars you see ujx>n his brow, 
 
 Tliose scars ujion his chest, 
 That lurrow ploughed upon his cheek, 
 
 That mark upon his breast, 
 Those had he gained before the hand, 
 Of Ella, fairest in the land. 
 Was joined with his in wedlock's band. 
 Fair Ella, now Sir Oscar's bride, 
 Was seated by Count Conrad's side. 
 Her hair fell down in ringlets gay, 
 And rustled as the wind would play 
 Upon her cheek, where rose's red 
 And lily's white quite turned tho head 
 Of many a rough country boor, 
 And nuide her lovers love^or more, 
 ller eyes wei o bright, aye, brig!.ter far 
 Than that fair gem the evening star; 
 Her eyes were dark and flashed with glee 
 As she sang sweet her melotly ; 
 Her glance was love, and love in eyes 
 Is meet reward for lover's sighs ; 
 Her lips were rosy red in hue; 
 Her iv'ry teeth wore fair to view ; 
 Her skin so clear, transparent white. 
 Might well have seemed to lover's sight 
 A tine fair web of heavenly light. 
 
 Oh I pleasant is the song. 
 Ana sweet is music's strain, 
 When minstrels sing of other times^ 
 And tell ua stories in their rhymes 
 Of knights, and wars' alarms, 
 And nations risen up in arms, 
 So that one's senses long 
 Those times to come again. 
 
 The words are like the dew, 
 Which in the morning grey 
 Falls on the hill, when yet the sun 
 Has left the moon in light, when none 
 Of the fair stars on high 
 Have thought it time to leave the sky. 
 And when the lake is blue 
 And settled in the vale.* 
 
 *Imitation.— " PJeasant are the words of the song, and lovely ai-e the tales of other 
 times. They are like the calm dew of tlie inorning on tlie hill of roes, when the sun is 
 faint on its side, and the lake is blue and settled in the valley."— 08SiAN-"J^<n^a/," JBk. 3. 
 
13 
 
 iicr 
 1 is 
 :. 3. 
 
 Ilor song had conscd, and bending down, 
 Ilor fuco half hid in ti-osHos brown, 
 She aBi<ed Count Conrad if the air 
 Had pleased him us he listened there. 
 
 He answered her— " Before I saw 
 
 Your lovesoine face an oath I swore 
 
 To love no maiden, ^vho should be 
 
 No native of fair Normandy ; 
 
 But you, fair Ella, you have made 
 
 My soul so weak, that I'm afraid 
 
 The only oath that I can swear 
 
 Is to ])resorve from ev'ry care 
 
 Your lovely form and beauty rare. 
 
 I love you, Ella, as I love 
 
 The (rod in the blue vault above ; 
 
 Your slave I am, and at your feet 
 
 My serfdom pleasantly 1 greet. 
 
 For you, sweet love, Fate's fiercest storm. 
 
 That seeks to chill my pulses warm, 
 
 I'll brave. Fate cannot daunt me now 
 
 I liave impressed on that fair brow 
 
 A kiss — nay, flee not thus away, 
 
 i do but seek a tribute pay 
 
 To her, who dazzles Phojbus' ray 
 
 And pales the beams that hither stray ; 
 
 Who makes the moon retire behind 
 
 Her curtain clouds, lest she go blind 
 
 From gazing at a face so bright, 
 
 My love's fond hope, my soul's delight. 
 
 Your beauties the fair stars surprise. 
 
 And make them wink their twinkling eyes. 
 
 What, still unkind? Know, silly child, 
 
 Sir Oscar, though a trooper wild, ^ 
 
 Can't save his vast estates from me, 
 
 My gift from Will of Normandy. 
 
 No use to weep, no use to chide. 
 
 You must and shall become my bride. 
 
 The outlaw knight a mate may find 
 
 In winter's child, the cutting wind, 
 
 For Ella, be my wife you shall 
 
 As 1 am Count of Epinal." 
 
 " Is this the gratitude he gains. 
 For saving from convulsive pains 
 
 A dastard Norman's coward frame ? 
 Is this the black return you give 
 
14 
 
 nK?7V ?'**^'^ *^** you might live ? 
 T. ^.J.*!*"^^ ^^ w«8 much to blame, 
 J^or thinking that a Norman's mind 
 
 w-l /"","" u^ aught but self, and blind 
 With foohsh, pompoua pride could think 
 But how the spring that gave him drink, 
 Could be made foul with stirred-up earth 
 And how he could besoil the hearth 
 Ihat gave him food and shelter, when 
 He was deserted by his men. 
 And 9/ou would rob him of his bride ? 
 
 -But that you never shall ; 
 For know that I'll ne'er quit his side, 
 
 But with him rise or fall ; 
 The foul black glass of lust shall ne'er 
 Bo used to soil his honour fair 
 Base Count of Epinal. ' 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 Count Conrad roamed about the halls 
 
 And each one thought no ill 
 To see him strolling round the walls, 
 
 feearch ev ry window sill, 
 Examine ev'ry postern door. 
 
 And scale each winding stair ; 
 But what 'twas puzzled them the more, 
 
 He d have not one to share 
 His wand'rings through the roomy halls, 
 And strolls around the cold grey walls 
 He searched each room, that he might find 
 home secret door to stairs that wind 
 lo some dark postern gate behind. 
 He tapped at ev'ry panel, where 
 Ihered likely be another stair; 
 He'd questions ask of serving-men 
 As if he was Sir Oscar's friend ; ' 
 He'd make fond love to lasses, who 
 Had never had but boors to woo, 
 And kisses gave, with lavish grace, 
 On ev ry damsel's ruddy face. 
 And so the Count by cunning craft, 
 
 Xnew ev'ry secret nook, 
 While maids and serving-men all laughed 
 lo see him searching look. 
 
 ■"»o>- 
 
 i 
 
15 
 
 O-A-ISTTO III. 
 
 " And now with shouts the shocking armies cloaeJ, 
 To lances lances, shields to ahielas opposed, 
 Host against host with shadowy legions drew, 
 The sounding darts in iron tempest flew ; 
 
 iscuous cries, 
 » 
 
 Victors and vanquished join promi 
 Triumphant shouts and dying groans rise 
 
 Pope—" Iliad of Homer," Bk. 8. 
 
 " Comfort, comfort scorn of devils, 
 It is true the poet sings, 
 That a sorrow's crown of sorrows, 
 Is remembering happier things." 
 
 TKNNysoN — "Lockesley Hall." 
 
 A week had passed since Conrad's flight, -^" 
 
 And all within was sate and sound ; 
 Outside a darlc, tempestuous night 
 
 In cloudy mist swept o'er the ground ; 
 When at the gale a summons shrill 
 Called on Sir Oscar of the Hill 
 To open in King William's name, 
 And yield the keep to Conrad's claim.. 
 And lay down arms o'er 'twas too late, 
 And give up Ella as a mate 
 To any Norman reprobate. 
 Of course Sir Oscar mocked the Count, 
 
 And bade him take his bride. 
 And wrest the castle from his hands ; 
 
 In fact, he loud defied 
 King William's pow'r, and all the troops 
 
 Who fought on William's side. 
 
 Now listen to the angry din, 
 
 The shouts without, the cries within ; 
 
 See issue from that grove of oak, 
 
 Where prophet crows are wont to croak, 
 
 From those old oaks, those aged trees 
 
 That tremble in the squally breeze, 
 
 That glitt'ring troop, all fully armed, 
 
 That round the castle furious swarmed. 
 These, covered by the murky robe of night, 
 Which hides their actions from the Saxons' sight, 
 
 Construct a raft : those idly fly 
 
 A cloud of arrows to the sky. 
 
 WitMn the castle walls the knight 
 
 Was armed for fierce and instant ficbt, 
 
 And gath'ring i*ound him Saxon h^rts. 
 
16 
 
 Who laughed at Norman bows and darts, 
 
 llo said, " Behold the men who dare 
 
 Attack the lion in his lair ! 
 
 Count Conrad's doings this ! — see well 
 
 You send that dastard's soul to hell: 
 
 And aim your shiuts with so groat skill 
 
 Thatov'ry one a foe shall kill: 
 
 See that your swords strike swift and strong. 
 
 And show the Normans you belong 
 
 To that brave race of men, whom song 
 
 Has made renowned : see that you guard 
 
 Our maidens from the Normans' sword." 
 
 The battle soon raged very fierce. 
 
 And bows they break, and shields they pierce. 
 
 The Saxons loud defiance shout, 
 
 While ' Vive le Eoy 1' is heard without. 
 
 It was so dai'k, that no one saw 
 
 The Normans landing four bj>' four, 
 
 On two small rafts, which to and fro 
 
 Across the moat in silence go. 
 
 Alas ! it is too late : the foe, 
 
 That like a mighty torrent flow 
 
 Upon the unsuspecting guards, 
 
 Have gained the hall, and shouting charge. 
 
 With threat' ning spear and upraised sword, 
 
 Led on by Conrad's brother Claude. 
 
 Dark as the vvave of swelling seas, 
 
 That rush before the howling breeze, 
 
 And roll upon a rocky coast. 
 
 Came on that raging Norman host. 
 
 Then shields they clang and swords they clash, 
 
 As they each other furious slash. 
 
 But Where's the Count ? We'll follow him 
 Through passages that, mazy, dim, 
 Appear to wander everywhere. 
 Across this room, now down this stair, 
 Until at last ht. enters hot 
 A lovely, charming little grot. 
 There Ella sat. Her pretty cheek 
 
 Was painted white by palsied Fear ; 
 A look, so eloquent and meek, 
 
 She cast upon her maidens near ; 
 Upon her neck of pearly white 
 There fell her hair, so brown and bright. 
 
 tf 
 
17 
 
 But when the Count rushed in upon 
 Thid timid, cow'ring, pretty throng 
 
 Of maidens fair, 
 Eoncnth her long and siltcen lashes, 
 She cast a thousand angry flashes, 
 
 As he stood there. 
 He looked forsooth a " hardy knight, 
 Caparisoned for instant fight;" 
 Beneath his helm his jetty hair 
 Peeped out in clust'ring curls ; and there. 
 Across his sun-burnt cheek a scar, 
 Which " planted there in recent war, 
 Had dawn one long and blushing streak 
 Over the darkness of his cheek ;" 
 His eyes flnshed forth his passion strong, .- 
 And, knowing he was doing wrong. 
 He hesitated at the door. 
 And seemed to search the reedy floor 
 For reasoning. This Ella saw. 
 
 " What means this wild uproar ?" she cried, 
 " Your presence does no good brtide, 
 
 Come ye in peace or war ? 
 Oh 1 come ye here to aid my lord. 
 Or do you 'gainst him turn your sword? 
 
 Come ye in peace or war ?" 
 
 *' Fair bride, to claim mine own I come, 
 My wife, my lands, my future home, 
 
 I come to claim it all. 
 My soldiers now, with skilful band. 
 Are battling with the Saxon band, 
 
 They come to claim it all. 
 Sir Oscar, in his great despair. 
 Has suffered me to seek you here, 
 
 To know if you Tvill come 
 To share my home, and share my bed, 
 And thus to save Sir Oscar's b -^ 
 
 And snatch him fVom the tomb.'* 
 
 •" Wretch 1 liar! ingrateJ coward thou! 
 Written plain upon thy brow 
 Is dastard, bastard's slave; 
 Think not to 'fright me to caress 
 That vicious lump of ugliness, 
 E'en Oscar's life to saye." 
 
 <o 
 
18 
 
 "Oh ! child of Olaf, Ella fair, 
 Know that Sir Oscar's life I'll spare, 
 
 If you will only come ; 
 A pris'ner bound alone he stands, 
 And guarded well at my commands, 
 
 Still, if you only come, 
 I will release him from his chains, 
 And spare him all the tort'ring pains 
 
 Of a cold dungeon home ; 
 I'll give him back his horse and arms, 
 To seek abroad war's loud alarms, 
 
 If you will only come ; 
 Come, Ella, come, the horses wait 
 Hai'd by the southern postern gate ; 
 
 Come, Ella dearest, come. 
 What? 3'^ou refuse? but now I'm lord, 
 And by the cross upon this sword 
 
 I swear that you shall come. 
 Sir Oscar dies, and stijl you'll be 
 My mistress, loth or willingly. 
 
 For I am now your lord. 
 For peevish tricks you'll have no time, 
 From break of day to curfew chime 
 
 You'll have to servo your loixl. 
 
 And seizing Ella round the waist. 
 Ho snatched a torch from out its place, 
 And hurled the fire around the room, 
 Till all, from tapestry to loom, 
 Stools, tables, chairs, and bedding too, 
 From one to one the fire-fiend flew. 
 Then, bursting from the blazing hall, 
 He hurried through the postern small 
 To gain the outer air, and then 
 To ride away, and leave his men 
 To finish up the work begun, 
 And to return when that was done. 
 
 Down in the hall, where Norman might 
 With Saxon pluck maintuined the fight, 
 As doth a rock in Ocean stand, 
 The surfy seas on ev'ry hand. 
 
 So Oscar stood ; 
 As the wild waves upon it boat, 
 And rough resistance always meet. 
 
 So did the flood 
 
 , 
 
19 
 
 Of Normans, who each time thoy rushed 
 Were backward borne, or onward crushed, 
 
 As by the tide ; 
 As waves are parted by a rock, 
 And backward roll, or by the shock 
 
 Are hurled aside. 
 So did the French to either side, 
 Who with Sir Oscar's fury tried 
 
 To cope ! — In vain. 
 They lall before his thirsty blade. 
 As trees across a forest glade 
 
 Fall after rain 
 Has made the earth a swamp, and when 
 The mighty winds, that quit their den 
 
 Of murky cloud, ^■' 
 
 And shrieking in their mad delight, 
 Like schoolboys out of school, or flight, 
 
 With screamings loud. 
 Of flocks of geese, they hurl with force 
 Their loosen'd trurks the lawns across. 
 But hark 1 that cry is ' Fire I' and whence 
 Comes all this smoke, so black, so dense ? 
 Now see Sir Oscar's gleaming blade ; 
 Try count the strokes, so swiftly made, 
 Try count the strokes, so swift, so sure. 
 And number, if you can, the score 
 Qf foes, that fall at ov'ry sweep 
 Of that brave sword, and count the heap 
 Of Normans, who by it are slain 
 In a largo semi-circle lain. 
 The Frenchmen fly before him now. 
 Such ire is painted on his brow. 
 And bursting from the rabble crowd. 
 He headlong rushed, and cried aloud 
 For Ella, but no answer came ; 
 Again he cried, again, again. 
 His crying was alas I in vain. 
 Disconsolate, he prays to die, 
 When Will, his captain, passing by, 
 Said he had seen his lady fair 
 Borne off by the south-eastern stair 
 By Conrad, Count of Epinal, 
 Who was in fact the cause of all 
 This sad commotion and disaster ; 
 And so he humbly begged his master 
 To live awhile, and search around 
 For Ella, for, if safe and sound, 
 
.4/«' 
 
 10 
 
 He know she faithful would remain, 
 And wait to be borne off again. 
 
 '' And art thou gone, my cherished bride, 
 With robber Normans to abide? 
 AlaH I ala« ! swoet Ella mine, 
 To think the sun again will shine 
 Upon my wand'ring head alone ; 
 For now that thou indeed art gone, 
 And now my castle's burnt, my home 
 I'll find upon some sloping combe. 
 Oh ! shall my days begin with blight, 
 In darkness foul, and grewsome night? 
 Shall Oscar, who ne'er yielded yet, 
 Be caught in this vile Norman's net ? 
 Shall Saxon mothers curse my name, 
 And hand my story down to fame. 
 And say that I, a Saxon knight, 
 Flew forth, as like a meteor bright, 
 But met a dark black cloud of night, 
 And then— I vanished from their sight ? 
 No I I will never yield me so ; 
 My fame shall go where'er I go. 
 Until I find my Ella dear, 
 Until I too have rescued her, 
 I swear against that Norman cur 
 A vengeance, that shall nations stir, 
 A vengeance, that the world will call 
 The fearful curse of Epinal. 
 My Ella, I will rescue thee, 
 Wherever thou may'st hidden be. 
 I trust in God to find thee, love. 
 And to His care, who re gns above, 
 I leave thee safe, my darling child ; 
 And now among the passes wild. 
 The mountains bleak, the sloping combes. 
 My men and I go seek our homes." 
 
SI 
 
 ., 
 
 o-A.isra?o i^v. 
 
 Luc. — "Here is a wonder, if you talk of a wonder." 
 Hob.—" And 8o it in ; I wonder what if bodes." 
 
 Shakkspeare— " Taming of the Shrew," Act V. Se. 2. 
 
 " Oh I bring me to her ; for mine eyes 
 Are hungry to '"iiold her face ; 
 My very hou! witliin me cries ; 
 My very hands seem to caress her, 
 To see her, gaze on lier, and bless her." 
 
 LoNOFELLOw— " Golden Legend," Part VI. 
 
 Near whoroSir Oscar'n custle stood 
 There is a cove, made by the flood 
 Of the Athmtic's heaving swell. 
 And as the part wliich I now tell 
 Relates to this, I may as well 
 Describe it, if indeed I can, 
 Then seldom visited by man. 
 The Cowrie Cove, so called by some, 
 Was where the Saxons made their homo. 
 You enter from the outer strand, 
 Where two great rocks on either hand 
 Form a small gorge. This stretches far 
 Into the sea, and forms a bar ; 
 That joins the clitt", that overhangs 
 A jiretty cove, where smaller gangs 
 Of Saxon soldiers keep look out, 
 And watch lest Normans prowl about. 
 Across this cove, the shaggy rock 
 Bends to receive the Ocean's shock. 
 And stretching far from land it braves 
 The fury of the angry waves. 
 Around this point another cove 
 Bursts on the view, and here there rove 
 Brave men, and maids, and children young, 
 Who laugh to hoar their shouting flung 
 From clitf to ciag, and crag to scar, 
 And die away in distance far. 
 
 See you yon moody man, who stands, 
 His pale face buried in his hands, 
 As 'gainst the rock he leans and sighs, 
 Like some fond lover to the skies. 
 But mark him well. Sir Oscar he, 
 Who threw Sir Guy of Normandy. 
 
9t 
 
 Now turn your frtm to vrhnre the fli-o 
 
 Its ruddy ^Mowing j|J*,ut<i*J; 
 On taco ol inuny n Htnrdfr' «/fiiiro, 
 On lml)it of tlio wombro Vn,.i 
 
 It» fancy flick'ring danced,' 
 On tho projecting cliHk alwvo, 
 
 A nd on tho waves btilow, 
 On ov'ry object in the covo. 
 
 Around the tire, in various pose, 
 WeroHoated those, whom Norman foes 
 ^ Had Jett to pain and woe. 
 That .sturdy yeoman, who in drest 
 In homespun cloth, is Oscar'w best 
 And bravest of his tighting men— 
 JJiit vyarriors ev'ry one was then- 
 Will (.arpentor the Bold, the same 
 Who shared Sir Oscar's brightest fame 
 And now his dark and bitter shame ' 
 lie to hiM tM.rht— another Will— 
 lie squir, i Oh • of tho HidI, 
 
 T M '"J w.^i"^"'' '''•"'" his friend, 
 IscallcvlWiIlCur ^s, for places lend 
 Many a name, as ilill, or Fori, 
 ilull, Ashton, Dunn, or Broo .s, or Ward 
 Around are scattered others, who 
 ilavo followed Oscar's fortune— Huch 
 And Rolf, and Ulf, and Steve, and John, 
 And Alva, Luko, and Allan strong. 
 
 Then spoke Will Cumes— 
 
 ^^Ti. " ®'"^® ^^^^ droad night, 
 
 When so much Saxon blood v^as sh^, 
 When Oscar taught the French to fight 
 
 ^inZ ?f l"!"^' ?'"'?'''' ""^ ^'^l'"' a"d head, 
 bince that dread night the cliffs above, 
 
 P..!L 7«^hang the cove, have turned 
 *rom pearly white to fiery red, 
 
 Red as a bar of iron burne<i. 
 Jj did tho stones in Lympstone's grove. 
 When our bold comrades freely b'ed 
 To save Sir Oscar's chorisheu hea. 
 And save his sweet and pretty wife 
 l<rom endless pain and wretched lu^ 
 A ^."V^"^^ ""hare a Norman's bed 
 And then you see yon pointed rock, 
 Which IS so like a cross-bow stock ? 
 D ye know how that became so red, 
 A.8 if Its very heart had bled ? 
 
23 
 
 Wlion 3'on, and Holf, und Stove, und John, 
 
 Wcii^ pitchin;i( in full woll und Htron^, 
 
 I. soio futi^uod with aplitting crowhb, 
 
 And (luito disgustwl with tho houndH, 
 
 ('iimo down yon path to hatho my fuce, 
 
 And, looiting for a handy place, 
 
 I saw my aunt — you know her, Hugh, 
 
 She was e'en over fond of yi\i, 
 
 My maiden aunt -1 saw lier swim 
 
 'I'o yonder rock, in t\< ilight dim ; 
 
 She reacho<i it safe, and clinging thoro 
 
 1 saw her •( om lay all hare, 
 
 For a 8hiit alone was all she had. 
 
 VoM would have said that whe was mad, 
 
 To SCO her hair dishevelled there, 
 
 And i)laying with the stormy air. -'' 
 
 And while 1 wondered what could be, 
 
 The cause of her long swim to sea, 
 
 I heard close by a fiendish shout, 
 
 As if Iho imps of hell were out 
 
 And running wild, and, from a nook 
 
 Where I could safely i-ako a look, 
 
 1 saw three Norman archers bold, 
 
 Ho brave, that e'en a woman old 
 
 They would attack, and trust 'tis truth, 
 
 They drew their arrows, and forsooth, 
 
 They aimed them at her legs and arms, 
 
 That tortures might have greater charms. 
 
 One drew again, alas! it sped 
 
 Before my axe could reach his head. 
 
 The shaft wont true, and on her breast 
 
 Her head fell down — she was at rest. 
 
 No more she'd hear their brutal cries, 
 
 No more they'd play their devilries 
 
 Upon he form — s'lo'd sunk to rest 
 
 Upon thv. Ocean's surfy breast. 
 
 Next morn I looked, and lo ! the shock 
 
 Had changed to red the < Old Maid Eock.' 
 
 But ah I who's this? 'Tis Alf, I'm sure, 
 
 With Harry running on before." 
 
 Down the stoop hill, with eager shout, 
 
 They quickly climbed, and crying out, — 
 
 " Good news ! good news I our queen is found !" 
 
 They bounded lightly to the ground. 
 
 Now see what change has taken place 
 
 In Oscar's pale and anxious face. 
 
24 
 
 " Good news, indeed, my honest lads. 
 
 Good news to cheer my drooping heart; 
 But tell me all, that she is well 
 
 As when it was our fate to part I 
 And tell mo whore she is I and where 
 That dastard thief has hidden her I 
 And Where's the Count? and does he woo 
 His captive as he used to do ? 
 
 Or has he yet compelled my wife" 
 
 " Stay, stay, Sir Knight, upon ray life, 
 You ask for more than I can tell. 
 Your bride is with the Count ; is well ; 
 And though the wretch doth often strive 
 To gain her love and make her live 
 A mistress to his vicious will, 
 He's found that Oscar of the Hill 
 Is so much in her thoughts and mind 
 That ^.1 his love, /ike idle wind. 
 Doth pass unheeded by, while she 
 Will answer with a homily. 
 Count Conrad, with his captive fair, 
 Is staying with Sir Charles, his friend, 
 At Okehampstead, indeed the pair 
 Of knights to Nick I'd like to send. 
 With pillaging the villeins round, 
 And burning homesteads to the ground, 
 
 This pretty pair drag out the day 
 Ani then they say all Saxons should 
 Be rooted out, because the brood 
 
 Is only tit for French to slay. 
 And so each night the blazing skies 
 Re-echo forth the piercing cries 
 Of murdered men and ravished dames, 
 Who fall by sword, or by the flames, 
 Or are in rows hung on the boughs 
 To form repasts for hungry crows. 
 Eedress our wrongs, most noble knight, 
 Take up our cause in honest fight ; 
 Let not the toward Norman crew 
 Say that no one, not even you. 
 Took up the cause of Saxons slain, 
 That no one thought to ease the pain 
 Of Saxon maidens in distress, 
 Or children rendered fatherless." 
 
 ^i 
 
 K I 
 
 I 
 
25 
 
 " Tlie second, with a bearded face, 
 htood singing in the market place. 
 And stirred with accen's deep and loud 
 The hearts of all the listening crowd " 
 
 Longfellow-" By the Pire,ide~The Singers. 
 
 ^Jil'^^^^^^mpsteHd'a stately halls 
 
 -Ihe jyormans sat around the board 
 And truth to say, those grand old walls 
 
 Had never seen their present lord 
 least there so large a number yet, 
 
 Ot knights and ladies, pages too; 
 Am there below the salt there sat 
 /mT o "^^n-at-Hrras. and then a few 
 Old t5axon serfs, who with the land 
 Had come to Norman Charles's hand 
 iiut hearken to the clattering gate.' 
 VV ho can it be that knocks so late ? 
 An tiged pilgrim passing by 
 books Norman hospitality. 
 Sir Oscar, for none else is he, 
 Was brought before the jolly three 
 Count Conrad, and Sir Charles, and one, 
 Whose name was Waldo Wolfenspun. 
 Vrr\^Tl^' fnghteiied sat the bride 
 Who had been torn from Oscar's side; 
 Count Conrad s arm was round her slender waist 
 And Oscar wished to give his heart a taste ' 
 
 Ot baxon steel, but sighing low. 
 He managed to bend down a bow 
 ;; And who are you ?" Sir Charles first said, 
 
 Sni^rir^IF wTp*^*" ^""^ ^«^" >'^"^' bread ?'' 
 baid Waldo Wolfenspun, '- And where 
 jJo you hail from, my jolly frere ?" 
 Count Conrad asked. 
 
 "My name is Paul; 
 
 Upon a pilgrimaiie to Rome; 
 
 Cloistei-ed Wells I call my home, 
 1 hough tis girt round by convent wall 
 1 am a l^riar, yet often deign 
 lo sing a song of merry vein, 
 T.0 fight a round, to drink a glass, 
 lo trip a dance, to kiss a lass ; 
 iiut now, upon a pilgrimage, 
 ■1 e en must always act the sa^e, 
 
 D 
 
26 
 
 And only talk in Latin tongue, 
 And never enter into fun, 
 And never drink a social glass, 
 And never kiss a pretty lass, 
 And never fight, and pever swear, 
 And from all dancing must forbear, 
 A sober pious man am I, 
 And so iseek your charity." 
 
 That night, not once, tho' often tried, 
 Could he get near to Ella's side. 
 And BO, at early dawn, he met 
 His gallant band, who 'gan to fret 
 Because they had no work as yet. 
 
 That fickle Goddess, Fortune, seemed 
 
 To turn her wheel once more; 
 For when next morn in splendour beamed 
 Upon the earth, which slept and dreamed 
 
 Of i^ature's bounteous store. 
 Sir Oscar saw the Norman knights 
 With men-at-arms, (whose many fights 
 Helped the strong wine to brutalize 
 Their features fierce, and blear their eyes,) 
 Set out upon their pillages. 
 To sack and burn the villages. 
 And murder all, both man and maid. 
 They chanced to meet upon their raid. 
 
 Sir Oscar then, in minstrel's dress. 
 
 So well disguised, that none would guess 
 
 In that old man a Saxon knight. 
 
 That that weak arm knew how to fight. 
 
 Those tottering legs could press a horse, 
 
 And that broad chest had felt the force 
 
 Of many an encounter fierce. 
 
 Where spear's sharp heads where apt to pierce 
 
 The shields of the opposing foe. 
 
 And wherefore should they think them so ? 
 
 For Oscar seemed a man, whom Age 
 
 And Grief conducted on. 
 To finish up Life's pilgrimage 
 
 On earth. But to my song I 
 He gained the court, where loit'ring stood 
 A number of the kitchen brood, 
 Cooks, scullions, pages and 
 Some waiting maids from Norman land. 
 
 , 
 
27 
 
 lie begged for food, and when they said 
 
 That he must purchase first his bread, 
 
 He struck his harp with plaintive note, 
 
 And as he set the tune afloat, 
 
 He sang a lover's melody, 
 
 A pretty little song, which ho 
 
 Had heard his Ella sing before 
 
 That dreadful night on Dawlish shore. 
 
 When froifi the east all bright 
 The 8un first greets the sigfit, 
 
 I sing of thee, my Jove ; 
 When working or at rest, 
 With love my heart possessed, 
 
 I sing of thee, my love ; 
 
 When sweet the abbey bella 
 
 Soil echo through the dells '^ 
 
 I sing of thee, my love; 
 Iheir peal is soft and clear. 
 And to my list'ning ear 
 
 They sing of thee, my love ; 
 
 When eve's sweet odours rise, 
 My lono;ing spirit sighs. 
 
 It thinks of thee, my love ; 
 the whispe 's of the leaves. 
 The murmurs of the breeze, 
 
 All sing of thee, my love ; 
 
 When sleep long-sought denies 
 lo ease my weary eyes, 
 
 I think of thee, my love ; 
 And night becomes as day. 
 When in my heart I say 
 
 Sweet dreams to thee, my love. 
 
 Should sadness fill my mind, 
 My comfort here I And, 
 
 In thoughts of thee, my love : 
 bhouldjoy my spirit fill, 
 I think of thee, love, still. 
 
 And ever praise thee, love. 
 
 When birds sing in the sky, 
 My senses make reply, 
 
 » J i^",** ^.'"S ^^ *hee, my love ; 
 And all the beasts that live 
 M ith joy their praises give. 
 
 And sing of thee, my love.. 
 
 When cares my peace molest, 
 I strive to fill my breast 
 
 With thoughts of thee, my love ; 
 And to the azure skies 
 My ?oni with ardour cries 
 
 *or blessings on thee, love. 
 
28 
 
 What have I tJien to fear ? 
 When hourly do I hear 
 
 A J ^^^ nature praise thee, love ; 
 And ever shall mv song, 
 With jmssion wild and strong, 
 
 Be of thy charms, my love. 
 
 "Oh ! sir, that is my lady's sonff. 
 Alas J her griefs so wild and stronir. 
 1 fear wo will not have her lonff* 
 The kindest mistress o'er us here, 
 bhe 18 so kind, she is so fair, 
 There's no one -that yon can compare 
 tier to, except our Ladj- dear. 
 Count Conrad, cruel brute he is. 
 Has stolen her away, I wis, 
 ^om some poor outlaw'd Saxon kniffht. 
 Who s got enough to do to fight, 
 lo keep his head from conquering foes. 
 Without redressing ladies' woes." 
 
 " mu^ ?^ ^ ^®®' "^y P'^e^ty maid, 
 Ihis lady fair you talk about ? 
 L^ there's grief to bo allayed, 
 lis music, not the warlike shout 
 Ot raging lord and he who dares 
 To meddle with a knight's affairs, 
 lis music that alone can bring 
 Forth love, and that you hear I sing." 
 
 "Nay, nay, old man, the Count has said 
 Ihat no man living shall be wed 
 
 To Lady Ella save himself. 
 -Besides, bis orders were, that none 
 
 bhould be admitted to her room 
 Except himself and Wolfenspun, ' 
 - Hia ugly ill-bred German groom." 
 
 "Count Conrad never knew that I 
 fehould at this time be passing by 
 A minstrel, as you see, I roam ; 
 -No place call I my cherished home 
 lo knights I sing of war's alarms," 
 And of their fathers' feats of arms 
 And of the battles they have won ' 
 But to their dames my rebel tongue 
 
 ST# ""^ ^T\ ^^""^ '°^"t sweet spell, 
 inat ladies only know too well; 
 
 
29 
 
 
 To those who weep some distant lord 
 1 sing of Constancy's reward, 
 And show them how the brave will come 
 And bnng his hard-won laurels home ; ' 
 To those whom Grief, that tyrant grim, 
 lias caused their eyes in tears to swim 
 I sing of love, and rest at last ' 
 
 To all, when Life's rough journey's past, 
 bo therefore let me see, fair maid". 
 This charming bride. Pe not afraid ! 
 1 11 only seek to cheer her heart, 
 And that I'll do e'er I depart." 
 
 His suasive manner was so strong 
 That Clotilde did not hold out long 
 But led him by a devious stair 
 To where the bower maidens were • 
 And in their midst fair Ella sat, ' 
 Unmindful of their girlish chat 
 Their laughter gay, their smiling eyes, 
 But wrapped her soul in tears and siVhs. 
 Ihe minstrel bent upon his knee, 
 
 And as he kissed the lady's hand 
 "Sore grieved am I," he said, « to see 
 Ihe fairest flow'ret in the land 
 Thus bowed down with misery." 
 And then he struck his harp and sung 
 These stirring words, which round her flung 
 A halo of delight, for she ^ 
 
 Knew well the soothing melody. 
 
 Weep on, weep on, for well you know, " 
 lour Oscar would not treat you so ; 
 «ut he will come with all his band, 
 And save you from a tyrant's hand. 
 
 Weep on, weep on, fair Beauty's bride. 
 What if from you a wall divide 
 Your liberty I for Oscar's sword 
 Knows how to strike as well as ward. 
 
 Weep on, weep on, for in the wood, 
 Where lovely Ella often stood. 
 Who knows but that Sir Oscar's band 
 Are hiding? and are near at hand ? 
 
 Weep on, weep on, and see you do 
 What I shall soon have told to you ; 
 *or know that then no more you'll see 
 Sad grieving sorrow'g misery. 
 
80 
 
 " What do you moan ? and who are you ? 
 And what Is it I have to do?" 
 Fair Ella cried, but ail she heard 
 Was one soft spolcen little word— 
 ' To-night: 
 
 " A wand'ring minstrel I, 
 >V ho happened to be passing by, 
 And hearing that your heart was sad, 
 And that you once a true love had 
 I sought admission, that I might ' 
 Attempt to make your heart more light." 
 Ihen, taking her soft hand in his, 
 And, as ho knelt to give a kiss, 
 He placed therein a tablet small, 
 Unseen by all within the hall. 
 And bidding her Ijarewell once more 
 He hurriv-d through the open door. 
 Upon the tablet there was writ — 
 * At midnight, near the window sit, 
 And place therein a taper tall. 
 And, when the hour-glasfe' sand doth fall, 
 Place there two more, for have no lear, 
 Sir Oscar and hit* men are near. 
 Make ready then to seek retreat 
 Whore honeysuckles bloom so sweet, 
 Where noble oaks fair shadows make, 
 -tor to the woods our way we take, 
 And over hill and over dale. 
 Until we gain that pleasant vale, 
 Where Ulf will be well pleased to see 
 His niece once more at liberty.' 
 
 i 
 
81 
 
 
 i 
 
 .. 
 
 o.A.3sra7o "v^i. 
 
 " Last came Joy's ecstatic trial. 
 He, wjth vine crown advancing, 
 First to the lively pipe his hand addressed : 
 
 But soon he saw the brisk awak'nins viol. 
 Whose sweet entrancing voice he loved the best." 
 
 Wm. Cohhiys—' T/ie Pasaions.' 
 'Twas midnight, and a taper bright 
 Was lighting up the darksome night, 
 And Ella sat in great aifright, 
 Lest something should befall her knight. 
 Upon the window brightly shone 
 The taper's light, there was but one, 
 But two it seemed, the black-robed night 
 Hefiected back the taper's light. 
 Fair Ella eagerly gazed on 
 The hour-glass' sand as it ran down. 
 And wond'ring, wondered all the more 
 At what she'd never watched before— 
 The tiny sand run trickling down, 
 Without a stop, without a sound. 
 
 ''How slowly it runs down," she cried, 
 Ihis trembling, pi-etty, eager bride, 
 ^How slowly it runs down, I'm sure 
 The half-hour's past, and yet there's more 
 Than half the sand still in the glass ! 
 When will it end ? No hour has past 
 So slowly as this hour seems to. 
 Whatever should I have to do, 
 If Conrad comes to seek me, when 
 xMy Oscar's here and all his men ?" 
 
 Run down, run down, you tiny sand, 
 Ihere s darkness over all the land. 
 My Oscar waits. 
 
 Run down, and hurry on the hour, , 
 bj en let old Time so darkly low'r. 
 My Oscar waits. 
 
 Run down, all eager here to come 
 To bear me to a distant home. 
 My Oscar waits. 
 
 The stars are shining bright o'erhead, 
 1 he moon you see has gone to bed. 
 My Oscar waits. 
 
82 
 
 Run down, run down, you tiny fand, 
 I wish to join my Oecur's band, 
 My Oacar waits. 
 
 " Oh ! will this tiresome sand stand still I 
 And will that lower glass ne'er till ! 
 And must 1 linger hero, when more 
 Than two long hours have passefl, I'm sure ! 
 Oh ! if Count Conrad saw the light, 
 And found me dressed for instant flight, 
 And if this signal caught his eye, 
 What should 1 do ? I'm sure I'd die." 
 
 Wink, taper, wink, my love 
 
 Is waiting for me now, 
 Fond passion in his eye. 
 And care upon his brow ; 
 In harness bound he stands beside 
 His gallant charger's heaving side. 
 He waits the hour ! he waits the hourl 
 
 Wink, taper, wink, your light 
 Must tell my Oscar's hand. 
 Who, hidden bv the night, 
 Are waiting close at hand, 
 That Ella is prepared to tlee 
 . From these wild knights of Normandy. 
 She waits the hour 1 she waits the hour ! 
 
 Wink, taper, wink, the bride 
 
 Must seek her warmest hood, 
 And hasten to the side 
 Of Oscar, brave and good ; 
 Then, wink, my taper, wink and tell 
 My Oscar that it all goes well. 
 And 'tis the hour I and 'tis the hour I 
 
 " Right glad am I at length the last 
 
 Small grain of sand the bridge has past ; 
 
 And now, my Oscar, come and free 
 
 Your Ella from the misery 
 
 Of cruel Norman tyranny. 
 
 There stand the three long tapers now, 
 
 Tluy will the right room plainly ^how. 
 
 Come, Oscar, come. Your Ella waits, 
 
 And opens wide her arms, the gates 
 
 To love, so strong and deep and wild. 
 
 Who's that? the Count ! 1 see 'tis will'd 
 
 I never shall escape from him. 
 
 What made him come the very time 
 
 1 was preparing for my flight ? 
 
 I hope he won't perceive the light!" 
 
 MM* 
 
38 
 
 " My dearest lovo I and is that you ? 
 I thought to find, boliove 'tis true, 
 You safe and sound asleep in bed. 
 What could have put in that fair head 
 The thought of sitting up so late, 
 As if you waited for your mate ? 
 Ah 1 what is that ? a signal sure I 
 Ho I varlets, guards at ev'ry door ; 
 No Saxon churl shall enter here 
 To carry off my sweet, my dear. 
 My pretty songster from her lord, 
 So long as I can wield a sword." 
 
 " Nay, nay, Sir Count, no signal this ; 
 And as to Saxon churls, I wis, 
 None wUl attempt to come near here, 
 They know too well Count Conrad's cheer. 
 
 " It may be so, but still I fear 
 It is some signal, Ella deai- 
 
 The night is dark, the terrace cool, 
 
 Too long have I been made your fool ; 
 
 Come, get your hood, to-night you'll find 
 
 It is not well to be unkind 
 
 To Conrad, Count of Epinal. 
 
 For I have sworn by great and small, 
 
 By God and imp, by saint and knave, 
 
 By monk's sad tomb, by Death's cold grave, 
 
 By fondest love, and fiercest hate, 
 
 That I shall now no longer wait 
 
 Upon your whims. Come, let us walk 
 
 Upon the terrace, where to talk 
 
 Beneath pale Cynthia's misty light 
 
 Is sweetest pleasure of the night. 
 
 I too have sworn that, by my head, 
 
 To-night to me you shall be wed." 
 
 <' Sir Count, you know I said last night 
 That never wou'd my troth I plight 
 To you, and e'er 1 share your bed 
 I would be numbered with the dead. 
 My hood I cannot find beside, 
 So here I stay whate'er betide." 
 
 "Now ccrae you shall, my pretty hind, 
 And, sioce jour hood you cannot find, 
 Without one come, for never mind 
 A cold chill killing you. ha, ha ! 
 The grave-yard is not very far." 
 
34 
 
 ' In lit the window, in nt the door', 
 
 Sir Oncar's men in swarnxs now pour, 
 
 And Osciir from the Count soon tore 
 
 Hiej pretty Ella, while brave Will 
 
 Cries ou , " Me'or mind a sliar|) cold chill 
 
 Of wtoel just killing you, ha, ]ja ! 
 
 The grave-yard iu not very lar." 
 
 And, as ho cries out, through and through 
 
 Ho runs Count Conrad, while bold Hugh 
 
 A flaming brand tears from its place. 
 
 And plunging it in Conrad's fiice, 
 
 Cries out, " Now, dastard, call to mind 
 
 The castle you so very kind 
 
 And thoughtful set on fire. 
 
 In hopes to make a funeral pyre 
 
 For those bold Saxons, who held out 
 
 Against a coward Norman rout." 
 
 Then setting fire to bed and chaij-, 
 
 And to the curtains hanging there, 
 
 The tables, stools, embroid'ry frames, 
 
 Wiiore soon enveloped in the flames. 
 
 The Normans rushal out from the place. 
 And found themselves stand face to face 
 AVith those, whom they had thought to kill 
 With brave Sir Oscar of the Hill. 
 
 I-^^