THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES KIRKSTALL ABBEY. AN IMAGINARY POEM IN THREE CANTOS. BY OSCAR SMYTHE LUSHINGTON. LEEDS: PRINTED BY G. CRAWSHAW, TRINITY-STREET, 1846. PR PREFACE. In presenting the following trifle to the public eye, the humble author places his hopes of success, not upon the merits of the work, — for he is well aware that they are of the slightest order, — but upon the motive which has urged him to make the venture, and the indulgence of his readers. To the Inhabitants of Leeds and its vicinity the author must ever feel himself bound by the strongest ties of gratitude, — their generosity and liberal pa- tronage having, even previous to the publication of the poem, bid fair to enable him to accomplish the most important step towards future prosperity, by furnishing him with the means of obtaining his emancipation from the ranks of the army, and thereby restoring him to his former station in society. With an assurance that his untiring study hence- forth shall be to convince his patrons that their generosity has been neither uselessly nor undeserv- edly conferred, He begs respectfully to subscribe himself their obedient, humble, and obliged Servant, THE AUTHOE. 867104 M-MOTAM illBIBl^ y. CANTO THE FIRST. Where gentle Airedale's tranquil streamlet flows 'Mid sedgy banks, where the wild pink-ey'd rose And fragrant honey-suckles fan the breeze, Which softly sighs among the rustling trees, And, bending gracefully, their blossoms lave With wanton kisses in the placid wave; — Where the blithe robin hops from spray to spray, And pours to Heaven his free and joyous lay, And the brisk bee scatters the sparkling dew From primrose-cups and nodding hare-bells blue ; There, with its ruin'd bell tower rearing high, Pointing towards the smiling azure sky, And overlooking verdant vale and mead, Dappled with sheep and kine, and grazing steed, Stands Kirkstall's hallowed, grey, and crumbling pile, Where travelers often pause to gaze awhile Upon the shatter'd arch and ivyed wall, While thoughts of times long past the mind enthral. There have I lov'd to roam, and conjure up Those days when torch and sacramental cup • ' KIBK8TALL Glow'd on that altar, where now toad and snail Crawl o'er the stones, and leave their loathsome trail : — When the higb vaulted roof rang round and round With the rich organ's thrilling, holy sound: — When the long aisle, now mouldering to decay, Was trod by monks, while rose the matin lay ; Or the lone pilgrim, led by law divine To pay his homage at the sacred shrine. Those days have passed, and naught remains to tell The tale, save tott'ring wall and weed-chok'd cell ; Yet still a hallow'd spirit seems to creep Around the sepulchres, where, wrapt in sleep Eternal, rest the bones of those who gave The voice of life to transept, choir, and nave. And tho' the ear can catch no floating breath Of choral chant amid those halls of death — Altho' the short view'd eye of man must fail To penetrate the cold grave's mystic pale, Imagination still may read a tale. The sun had sunk behind the hill, And nature's busy voice was still, The latest bee had left the flower, The butterfly slept in the bower; The blithest bird had ceas'd its song, And naught, except the myriad throng Of spotted moths and chaffers blind ABBEY. Disturb' d the drowsy ev'ning wind. The slimy snail and lazy toad Crawl'd o'er the rugged, grassy road ; And now and then a frighten'd hare Sprang thro' the brake, and sought its lair. Then all again was hush'd and still — Save the grasshopper's chirrup shrill, The corn-crake's distant lonely cry, Or the chill night wind's mournful sigh. In the- far west, the orb of day Still ting'd the clouds of leaden grey, And spread an angry dusky glare Throughout the silent realms of air: And as it faint and fainter grew, The sky assum'd a threat'ning hue. Along the eastern horizon The gloom of night came swiftly on ; Pale sheets of lightning glimmer'd round, And far away the boding sound Of thunder came upon the breeze Which sobb'd among the shiv'ring trees. All told by tokens dark and drear The dread Storm Demon hover'd near. By Airedale's darkly gleaming tide Two dusky forms were seen to glide Among the hazels rank and tall Which skirted Kirkstall's Abhey wall : And as they slowly onward stroll'd, BKS1 u.i. Their earnest guarded converse told The speakers were De Lacey's heir, \nd Ids dark kinsman, Oswald Blair. " I tell thee, cousin Hildebrand, The Lady Helen's downed hand Will ne'er be thine, if, like a child, Thou think'st to win hy measures mild. Mark well my words — that hand's a prize Whereon a host of greedy eves Already gloat; and there's among The strugglers in the rival throng A stranger knight, whose honour' d scars Proclaim a hero from the wars ; And on his records proudly shine Bright laurels won in Palestine. On the young warrior, they say, Fair Helen smiles right graciously. 1 warn thee, and 'tis thine to prove How his suit may affect thy love." So spoke Sir Oswald, while his eye Gleam'd 'neath his brow maliciously, As with a covert glance he scann'd The features of Sir Hildebrand. "Oswald," Sir Hildebrand exclaimed— And while he spoke, his eye inflamed By mingled fury and alarm ABBEY. Flash'd fearfully ; he grasp'd the arm Of Blair — " Oswald, now mark me well, If truth sustains what thou dost tell, At once my rival's name reveal, And, by my soul, this thirsty steel Shall drink his life's-blood ere the night Again gives place to morning light. But, if I find that thou hast strove By artifice to cross my love, And spot the lady Helen's fame — Then swear I, by my halidame, On thee shall fall my fury's storm ; — I'll crush thee as I would a worm !" " Right bravely spoken ! — I applaud Thy spirit ; but to think a fraud So dastardly, so base, could ere Invented be by Oswald Blair Is most unjust, and much I grieve That thou should'st deem I'd e'er deceive The man I love — In whose cause I Would gladly bleed, would freely die. However, Hildebrand, to prove My only wish is to remove This love-wrought blindness from thine eyes, All that within my power lies I'll freely speak. His name, I own, I cannot tell : — it is unknown To all I've cpiestioned ; but they say In KIRK8TAL1 I [e i'\\ i s his birth to Italy. But, listen : thou shalt quickly prove If there be truth in Helen's love. This very eve, within an hour, The lovers meet in Kirksiall's bow'r. Go, hide ye there, and let thine eves Bear witness that I speak not lies." They parted ; and Sir Hildehrand — His ire by jealous passions fann'd Almost to frenzy — bent his way To where the Abbey gardens lay. He reach'd a narrow, dusky glade, And paus'd beneath the deep black shade Of a tall yew. The thunder's roll Struck terror to his shrinking soul ; And when the lightning's vivid play Dispers'd the darkness transiently, The fitful glimmer made him start: — It seem'd as if around his heart A host of fear- fraught demons stood, And urg'd him to the deed of blood. " Revenge ! revenge !" — that fiendish cry Seem'd borne upon the night-wind's sigh. .Inst then a dark form caught his eye, \^ "mid the gloom it hurried by His leafy covert. Quick as thought His trembling hand the dagger sought: Then stealthily, with scarce drawn breath \KBEY. 1 I He trac'd its steps, until beneath A thickly-woven copse it stay'd And glanc'd along the dismal glade. With noiseless steps the spot he neared ; — But, lo ! the form had disappeared ! The knight peer'd round : — the lightning's glare Just then burst forth, revealing where A grass-chok'd, leaf-o'ershadow'd way Branch' d off. A ruddy, trembling ray Stream'd thro' a dark, sequester' d dell, As from some hermit's lonely cell. Onward he strode, and, like the hound That scents its victim, crept around And 'neath the gnarled trees. A sound Of vvhisp'ring voices strikes his ear — He stays his steps, and crouches near A lowly hut ; the half-op'd door Dimly reveals the fern-strewn floor : And by the faint, uncertain light A sickly lamp emits, a sight, Which withers up his soul, he sees ; — His very pulses seem to freeze : For, 'mid the lurid, wav'ring glare, A knightly form and lady fair Stand closely lock'd in fond embrace ! — Vainly he strains his eyes to trace Their features thro' the struggling gloom ; But 'tis enough : — the stranger's doom Is seal'd. The frantic Hildebrand I V K1BK8TA1 i Feela well convine'd the pair who stand Before his reeling, blasted sight Are Helen and the stranger Knight. Anon, the Unknown left the cell, And hurried onward thro' the dell ; While, as the Indian tracks his foe With wolf-like subtlety — e'en so De Lacey hung upon his wake Thro' bush and briar, furze and brake, Until they reach'd the gloom-wrapt glade, — Then, darting from his leafy shade, He rais'd on high the gleaming blade — And struck — alas ! too true — too well, — His victim stagger'd— groan 1 d — and fell i De Lacey for a moment stood And gaz'd upon the deed of blood With starting, fixed eyes, like one Turn'd by some pow'rful spell to stone : — Then stoop'd him down, and drew a-side The mantle which had serv'd to hide The visage. Just then thro' the air The lightning shot with ghastly glare, And serv'd the assassin to discover — Great God '.—that he had slain his brother ! One shriek— one horrid, piercing cry Rang thro' the darkly frowning sky. ABBEY. 13 With hands convuls'd he wildly clasped His throbbing temples, while he gasped Like some half-strangled wretch, for breath ; — It seern'd as if the hand of death Already shook his palsied frame — His eye-balls roll'd like globes of flame. The lightnings flash'd — the thunder roared — The spouting rain in torrents poured, — The mighty winds, which until then Had slept, like lions from their den Now rush'd abroad, and howling forth Their fear-fraught, all-destroying wrath, Swept wildly thro' the groaning wood, And dash'd the voenvhelming flood In a fierce, sheeting deluge o'er Hill, valley, woodland, mead, and moor. Away the wretched Hildebrand Rush'd like a hunted beast — a band Of vengeful fiends appear'd to hang Around him ; while the welkin rang With goblin laughter, and the blast Seern'd as it hurried madly past To howl forth curses in his ear. Denouncing voices far and near Shreik'd thro' his whirling, frenzied brain — " Fratricide ! — Murderer ! — Second Cain !" B I I KIBKBTAL1 CANTO THE SECOND. 'Twas midnight; and the moonlight pale Shone over woodland, mead and vale : And calmly fell the trembling beam Upon sweet Airedale's placid stream As onward flow'd the glassy tide In all its clear, unruffled pride — Save where, perchance, the nightfly's wings Spread circlets bright of crystal rings ; Or sportive trout, with sudden leap, Disturb'd the>quiet water's sleep. All slumber'd — e'en the night-wind's sigh, And silence reign'd o'er earth and sky. Beneath the cold and pallid ray Old Kirkstall's walls look'd lone and grey ; And cold the mullion'd casements gleamed — Save where, by clus'tring ivy screened, One low-brow'd lattice shed a bright Red beam upon the dusk of ni foul proposal with deep scorn 1 shrunk from; and my answer, born In words his heart could ill sustain, Told how completely he'd mista'en, ABBEY. 3 1 The principles of him who lay In durance 'neath his tyranny. He spoke no more ; but, with a scowl, Which told how winc'd the villain's soul, Quitted the cell : and wrapt in gloom, I waited my impending doom. ; The rising moon beam'd forth, anon, And thro 1 the dungeon grating shone : With listless eye, upon the wall I watch'd the clear cold radiance fall ; 'Till, presently, the light revealed A glittering object, half concealed Behind a jutting stone. A thought Shot thro' my brain, — with speed I sought To prove how far I judg'd aright — With trembling hand a pressure slight I laid upon the spot — and true To my suspicion, backward flew A small slab from the dungeon floor, Discovering an iron door. The rusted latch I wrench' d away, And, with a light heart, grop'd my way Along a passage damp and dark; And, ere long, I beheld a spark Fitfully gleaming from afar, Like some predestin'd guiding star. Sway'd by alternate hope and fear, With careful footsteps I drew near 32 KlliKST.U.L The spot: there, plainly, once had been A secret door-way ; and between The rude-built mass of rock and clay Which chok'd the outlet, a faint ray Stream'd far above me thro 1 a breach, Which vainly 1 essay'dto reach. Still hard 1 clamber'd, and, at length, By dint of care and sinewy strength, 1 well nigh gain'd the chink — when down The ponderous, crumbling mass was thrown With a loud crash beneath my weight ; And when 1 stagger'd to my feet I stood within my own retreat ! "Thus having, by a lucky chance, And the good will of Providence, Escap'd the clutches of the fiend, I readily, with reason, deem'd That tho' he'd fail'd in the attempt To gain my aid, he'd ne'er content His vengeful soul, until grim death Had seal'd his hatred rival's breath. Accordingly, I studied how I might avert th' impending blow. I soon deteiminM to repair Next eve to KirkstalFs bower, where The lovers plann'd to meet, and there Impart the danger hovering nigh, And wain them, for their lives to fly. ABBEY. 33 " With this intent, at night's dark hour, In Hermit's garb, I sought the bower: But ere I reach'd the spot, a cry Of fearful wildness rent the sky. In the direction of the sound I hasten'd swiftly on, and found A wounded youth stretch'd on the ground, Lifeless, and weltering in blood ; While over him th' assassin stood. But scarcely had I reach'd the scene, When, as if waking from a dream, The perpetrator of the deed Rush'd down the glade with maniac speed. A portion of my trusty band, Who hover'd nigh, at my command Sprang from their covert in the wood, And close the fugitive pursu'd ; While I, with two stout comrades' aid, The fallen youth to our cave convey'd. But little more I need to say : Long ere the dawn of coming day, Apt remedies with skill applied Had staunch'd life's swiftly ebbing tide. Few words suffic'd for him to tell Twas by his brother's hand he fell : — He mark'd thy visage 'mid the light The storm-flash shed upon the night; — And I, at once, became full well Convinc'd that some infernal spell, 34 DBK8TALL Concocted by dark Oswald's brain, Had tempted thee thy hand to stain By lifting it, with vengeance rife, Against thy only brother's life. " But little did I dream that there Lay in the brain of Oswald Blair So deep a mine of treachery ; For know, Sir Hildebrand, that he Already has, with grasping hands, Usurp'd thy noble rights and lands : — And altho' formerly he'd plann'd To gain the fair and dowried hand Of Lady Hermione De Grey, His eye now gloats on richer prey ; — His curst ambition covets now The daughter of De Poitou. The Baron, blinded by his wiles, Upon, his suit approving smiles : But Lady Helen deeply mourns Thy fancied loss, and proudly scorns Sir Oswald's suit ; and tho' her sire Threatens her with his lasting ire If she declines perversely still To yield submission to his will, No threats her firm resolve can move, Or swerve her from her former love. " Upon Sir Oswald's plottings I ABBEY. 35 Have kept a close and watchful eye. He spread abroad an artful tale, Which to gain credence did not fail, That bitter enmity had sprung Betwixt his kinsmen, from some wrong Sir Ethelred had heap'd on thee; And, in the heat of enmity, That thou hadst slain Sir Ethelred, And from thy native country fled. " My followers, who on thy track Had vainly sped, ere long came back ; And with no tidings could I meet To give a clue to thy retreat, Until, by chance, the other night I mark'd an aged Anchorite Gliding among the hazels tall Which skirt the Abbey-cloister wall. Some pebbles by his hand were thrown Against a lattice, whence forth shone A feeble light ; I watch' d with care, Longing to learn what brought him there. He enter' d by a secret way — I follow'd, and in ambush lay Behind a pillar. — Presently, Bearing a lamp, a Monk appeared, And as my hiding-place he neared The features I could plainly trace ; And in that haggard, care-worn face, 36 KIRKSTA.LL Where naught, Bave suffering, seemed to live, I saw the long-sought fugitive. " I trac'd the Hermit to his cell, Within a deep sequester'd dell ; And, blinded by my priestly gear, The good man told me, without fear, How, iin a dark tempestuous night, Like a wild, conscience-torturM sprite, Thon rushed'st thro' his halfop'd door, And senseless (ell upon the floor: How from thy ravings he had gained A knowledge that thy hands were stained Bv some mysterious, bloody deed : How he'd advis'd thee to proceed To Kirkstall's hallow'd shrine, and there Atonement make by fast and pray'r. Thy brother here, allho', as yet, Scarce strong enough his couch to quit, On hearing my discovery, lvcsolv'd, without delay, that lie Next eve, in company with me, Would to the cloister-court repair, And dissipate thy dark despair. What follow'd, I've no need to tell : Thank Heaven, all, so far, is well. " But the catastrophe draws nigh, — To crush Sir Oswald's villainy ABBEY. Sir Etbelred and I have plann'd A scheme. To thee, Sir Hildebrand, To-morrow morn we will explain : All things are now in perfect train. " But come, the hour is waxing late, Our presence my blithe comrades wait ; Cheer up, Sir Knights, forget all care, And join us in our homely fare." The brothers grasp' d each other's hands With thankful hearts — Sir Hildebrand's, So late by hopeless anguish riven, Seem'd lifted to the realms of Heaven. But here we leave the twain to greet The Foresters in their retreat, And feast on venison and ale While we pursue our humble tale. D - KITU.M A I ( CANTO THE THIRD. Sir Oswald .sale in his gloomy hall As the shades of night hegau to fall : Now darkly he scowl'd — now a fiendish smile O'erspread his sinister features, while By fits and starts he cast his eye Towards the door impatiently. 'Twas seldom Oswald Blair was seen So to relax his frigid meiu. As the volcano fiercely glows Amid perpetual frost and snows, So, 'neath his cold exterior, Dark passions wag'd continual war Within his heart ; and hellish schemes Beset his day-thoughts and his dreams. But scarcely ever aught betrayed In look or word the plots arrayed Against his foes with deadly mark. Yet now an agonizing spark Of apprehension sear'd his breast Like heated iron. He could not rest Assured that De Lacey's heirs ABBEY. 39 Were safely tramrnell'd by his snares. He felt assured that Hildebrand Had raised his vengeance-tempted hand Against his brother. In the glade The blood-stain'd grass full well betray'd The perpetration of the deed ; But then he never could succeed In finding where the corse was lain ; All his research had proved vain. This state of vague uncertainty Tortur'd his conscience night and day. A dark misgiving, fraught with fear, Constantly whispered in his ear That retribution hovered near. 'Twas galling thus to find the goal Whereon his dark, ambitious soul For years its proudest hopes had built Their pinnacle 'mid foulest guilt, Constantly threatening to sink, And topple o'er destruction's brink. Three moons had wasted since that night With treachery and blood bedight, When the De Lacey's disappeared ; And quickly now Sir Oswald neared The climax of his guilty pride : Fair Helen was to be his bride. That night, by her stern Sire's command, She was to yield to Blair her hand. .MALI. in his hall, absorbed by thought, He sate, his eat a footfall caught; \n