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 ^
 
 THE 
 
 HERMIT OF WARKWORTH, 
 
 a Jl3oit!)umberlanli MUuU, 
 
 BY THE 
 
 Rev. Dr. PERCY. 
 
 EMBELLISHED WITH WOOD ENGRAVINGS 
 
 BY 
 
 NESBITT AND CLENNELL, 
 
 FROM DESIGNS BY THURSTON. 
 
 ->'-i'i"/'^' 
 
 LONDON: 
 PRINTED FOR ROBERT SCHOLEY, 46, PATERNOSTER-ROW. 
 
 Bt/ Thomas Davison, JVhitefriars. 
 
 1806.
 
 TO HER GRACE 
 
 ELIZABETH 
 
 DUCHESS AND COUNTESS OF NORTHUMBERLAND, 
 
 IN HER OWN RIGHT 
 
 BARONESS PERCY. 
 
 DoAVN in a northern vale wild flowrets grew, 
 And lent new sweetness to the summer gale ; 
 The Muse there found them all remote from view, 
 Obscur'd with weeds, and scattered o'er the dale. 
 
 O Lady, may so slight a gift prevail, 
 And at your gracious hands acceptance find ? 
 Say, may an ancient legendary tale 
 Amuse, delight, or move the polish'd mind ? 
 
 Surely the cares and woes of human kind, 
 Though simply told, will gain each gentle ear: 
 But all for you the Muse her lay design'd, 
 And bade your noble Ancestors appear: 
 
 She seeks no other praise, if you commend. 
 Her great protectress, patroness, and friend.
 
 ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 Warkworth Castle in Northumberland stands 
 very boldly on a neck of land near the sea-shore, 
 almost surrounded by the river Coquet (called by our 
 old Latin Historians, Coqueda), which runs with a 
 clear rapid stream, but when swoln with rains becomes 
 violent and dangerous. 
 
 About a mile from the Castle, in a deep romantic 
 valley, are the remains of a Hermitage; of which the 
 Chapel is still entire. This is hollowed with great 
 elegance in a cliif near the river; as are also two ad- 
 joining apartments, which probably served for the Sa- 
 cristy and Vestry, or were appropriated to some other 
 sacred uses: for the former of these, which runs pa- 
 rallel with the Chapel, appears to have had an Altar 
 in it, at which Mass was occasionally celebrated, as 
 well as in the Chapel itself. 
 
 Each of these apartments is extremely small; for 
 that which was the principal Chapel does not in length 
 exceed eighteen feet; nor is more than seven feet and 
 a half in breadth and height: it is however very beau-
 
 VI 
 
 tifully designed and executed in the solid rock; and 
 has all the decorations of a complete Gothic Church 
 or Cathedral in miniature. 
 
 But what principally distinguishes the Chapel, is a 
 small Tomh or Monument, on the south side of the 
 altar: on the top of which, lies a Female Figure ex- 
 tended in the; manner that effigies are usually exhibited 
 praying on ancient tombs. This figure, which is very 
 delicately designed, some have ignoranlly called an 
 image of the Virgin Mary; though it has not the least 
 resemblance to the manner in which she is represented 
 in the Romish Churches; who is usually erect, as the 
 object of adoration, and never in a prostrate or re- 
 cumbent posture. Indeed the real image of the Blessed 
 Virgin probably stood in a small nicli, still visible be- 
 hind the altar: whereas the figure of a Bull's Head, 
 which is rudely carved at this Lady's feet, the usual 
 place for the Crest in old monuments, plainly proves 
 her to have been a very difi^rent personage. 
 
 About this tomb are several other Figures; which, 
 as well as the principal one above-mentioned, are cut 
 in the natural rock, in the same manner as the little 
 Chapel itself, with all its Ornaments, and the two
 
 vu 
 
 adjoining Apartments. What slight traditions are scat- 
 tered through the country concerning the origin and 
 foundation of this Hermitage, Tomb, &c. are delivered 
 to the Reader in the following rhymes. 
 
 It is universally believed, that the Founder was one 
 of the Bertram family*, which had once considerable 
 possessions in Northumberland, and were anciently 
 Lords of Bothal Castle, situate about ten miles from 
 Warkworth. He has been thought to be the same 
 Bertram that endowed Brinkburn Priory, and built 
 Brenkshaugh Chapel: which both stand in the same 
 winding valley, higher up the river. 
 
 * That this Hermitage was formed for the retreat of one of the 
 Bertram family, who had killed his brother, had been the tradition 
 of the Country, as the Author was assured by the Reverend Mr. 
 Lawson, a very worthy Clergyman, Avho was Rector of Warkworth 
 when this poem was first published in 1770. He had succeeded his 
 father in this benefice, and they two had then enjoyed it more than 
 half a century. The catastrophe of the Lady was suggested by the 
 figure on the Tomb. 
 
 How well such a tradition might be preserved, and handed down 
 by these two incumbents, will appear from the following dates in the 
 Parish Register at Warkworth, viz. 
 
 The Reverend Wilfrid Lawson was inducted into this Living, 
 May 4th, 1717, and died April 1st, 1732, aged 56. 
 
 He was succeeded by his Son the Reverend Wilfrid Lawson, 
 jun. who was inducted June 22, 1732, and held the same till his 
 death, November 27, 1777-
 
 VIU 
 
 But Brinkburn Priory was founded in the reign 
 of K. Henry I. * whereas the form of the Gothic 
 Windows in this Chapel, especially of those near the 
 altar, are found rather to resemble the style of archi- 
 tecture that prevailed about the reign of K. Edward III. 
 And indeed that the sculpture in this Chapel cannot be 
 much older, appears from the Crest which is placed at 
 the Lady's feet on the tomb'j'; for Camden;| informs us, 
 that armorial Crests did not become hereditary till 
 about the reign of K. Edward II. 
 
 These appearances, still extant, strongly confirm the 
 account given in the following poem, and plainly prove 
 that the Hermit of W ark worth was not the same 
 person that founded Brinkburn Priory in the twelfth 
 century, but rather one of the Bertram family, who 
 lived at a later period. 
 
 * Tanner's Notitia Monast. 
 
 •f- That this was the usual position of the Crest on ancient Tombs 
 may be seen in the numerous instances displayed by Mr. Gougli 
 and other Antiquaries, in their plates of Ancient Monuments. 
 
 J See his Remains. 
 
 FIT was the word used by the old Minstrels to signify a Part or 
 Division of their Historical Songs, and was peculiarly appropriated to 
 this hind of compositions. — See Reliques of Ancient English Poetry, 
 Vol. II. p. 166 and 397- 2d Ed.
 
 FIT THE FIRST. 
 
 Dark was the night, and wild the storm, 
 And loud the torrent's roar; 
 
 And loud the sea was heard to dash 
 Against the distant shore: 
 
 Musing on man's weak hapless state, 
 The lonely Hermit lay; 
 
 When, lo! he heard a female voice 
 Lament in sore dismay.
 
 2 
 
 With hospitable haste he rose, 
 And wak'd his sleeping fire; 
 
 And snatching up a lighted brand. 
 Forth hied the reverend sire. 
 
 All sad beneath a neighbouring tree 
 
 A beauteous maid he found, 
 Who beat her breast, and with her tears 
 
 Bedew'd the mossy ground. 
 
 Oh! weep not, lady, weep not so; 
 
 Nor let vain fears alarm; 
 My little cell shall shelter thee, 
 
 And keep thee safe from harm. 
 
 It is not for myself I weep. 
 
 Nor for myself I fear; 
 But for my dear and only friend. 
 
 Who lately left me here: 
 
 And while some shelt'ring bowser he sought 
 
 Within this lonely wood, 
 Ah! sore I fear his v^^and'ring feet 
 
 Have slipt in yonder flood.
 
 3 
 
 Oh! trust in Heaven, the Hermit said. 
 
 And to my cell repair; 
 Doubt not but I shall find thy friend. 
 
 And ease thee of thy care. 
 
 Then climbing up his rocky stairs. 
 He scales the cliff so high ; 
 
 And calls aloud, and waves his lifflit 
 To guide the stranger's eye. 
 
 Among the thickets long he winds 
 With careful steps and slow: 
 
 At length a voice return'd his call. 
 Quick answering from below: 
 
 Oh! tell me, father, tell me true,. 
 
 If you have chanc'd to see 
 A gentle maid, I lately left 
 
 Beneath some neighbouring tree: 
 
 But either I have lost the place. 
 Or she hath gone astray: 
 
 And much I fear this fatal stream 
 Hath snatch'd her hence away.
 
 ix 
 
 Praise Heaven, my son, the Hermit said; 
 
 The lady's safe and well: 
 And soon he join'd the wandering youth, 
 
 And brought him to his cell. 
 
 Then well was seen, these gentle friends 
 They lov'd each other dear: 
 
 The youth he press'd her to his heart; 
 The maid let fall a tear. 
 
 Ah! seldom had their host, I ween, 
 
 Beheld so sweet a pair: 
 The youth was tall, with manly bloom; 
 
 She slender, soft, and fair. 
 
 The youth was clad in forest green. 
 With bugle-horn so bright: 
 
 She in a silken robe and scarf, 
 Snatch'd up in hasty flight. 
 
 Sit down, my children, says the Sage; 
 
 Sweet rest your limbs require: 
 Then heaps fresh fuel on the hearth, 
 
 And mends his little lire.
 
 Partake, he said, my simple store, 
 
 Dried fruits, and milk, and curds; 
 
 And spreading all upon the board, 
 Invites with kindly words. 
 
 Thanks, father, for thy bounteous fare; 
 
 The youthful couple say: 
 Then freely ate, and made good cheer. 
 
 And talk'd their cares away. 
 
 Now say, my children, (for perchance 
 
 My council may avail,) 
 What strange adventure brought you here 
 
 Within this lonely dale? 
 
 First tell me, father, said the youth, 
 (Nor blame mine eager tongue,) 
 
 What town is here? What lands are these? 
 And to what lord belogn? 
 
 Alas, my son ! the Hermit said. 
 
 Why do I live to say. 
 The rightful lord of tliese domains 
 
 Is banish'd far away!
 
 ^> 
 
 6 
 
 Ten Avinters now have shed their snows 
 
 On this my lowly hall. 
 Since valiant Hotspur (so the North 
 
 Our youthful lord did call) 
 
 Against Fourth Henry Bolingbroke 
 Led up his northern powers, 
 
 And stoutly fighting lost his life 
 IS ear proud Salopia's towers. 
 
 One son he left, a lovely hoy, 
 
 His country's hope and heir; 
 
 And, oh! to save him from his foes 
 It was his grandsire's care. 
 
 In Scotland safe he plac'd the child 
 Beyond the reach of strife. 
 
 Not long; hefore the brave old Earl 
 At Bramham lost his life. 
 
 And now the Percy name, so long 
 Our northern pride and boast, 
 
 Lies hid, alas! beneath a cloud; 
 Their honours reft and lost.
 
 No chieftain of that noble house 
 Now leads our youth to arms; 
 
 The bordering- Scots dispoil our fields, 
 And ravage all our farms. 
 
 Their halls and castles, once so fair. 
 
 Now moulder in decay; 
 Proud strangers now usurp their lands. 
 
 And bear their wealth away. 
 
 Not far from hence, where yon fall stream 
 Runs winding down the lea. 
 
 Fair Warkworth lifts her lofty towers. 
 And overlooks the sea. 
 
 Those towers, alas! now stand forlorn. 
 With noisome weeds o'erspread. 
 
 Where feasted lords, and courtly dames. 
 And where the poor were fed. 
 
 Meantime far off, 'mid Scottish hills. 
 
 The Percy lives unknown: 
 On strangers' bounty he depends. 
 
 And may not claim his own.
 
 8 
 
 Oh, might I with these aged eyes 
 
 But live to see him here. 
 Then should my soul depart in bliss !-- 
 
 He said, and dropt a tear. 
 
 And is the Percy still so lov'd 
 Of all his friends and thee? 
 
 Then bless me, father, said the youth, 
 For I thy guest am He. 
 
 Silent he gaz'd, then turn'd aside 
 To wipe the tears he shed; 
 
 And lifting up liis hands and eyes, 
 Pour'd blessings on his head. 
 
 Welcome, our dear and much-lov'd Lord, 
 Thy country's hope and care: 
 
 But who may this young lady be, 
 That is so wondrous fair? 
 
 Now, father, listen to my tale. 
 
 And thou shalt know the truth : 
 
 And let thy sage advice direct 
 My unexperienc'd youth.
 
 9 
 
 111 Scotland I've been nobly bred. 
 Beneath the Regent's hand', 
 
 In feats of arms, and every lore, 
 To fit me for command. 
 
 With fond impatience long I burn'd 
 
 My native land to see : 
 At length I w^on my guardian friend, 
 
 To yield that boon to me. 
 
 Then up and down in hunter's garb 
 
 I w^ander'd as in chace. 
 Till in the noble Nevilles^ house 
 
 I gain'd a hunter's place. 
 
 Some time with him I liv'd unknown. 
 
 Till I'd the hap so rare. 
 To please this young and gentle dame. 
 
 That baron's daughter fair. 
 
 Now, Percy, said the blushing maid. 
 The truth I must reveal; 
 
 Souls great and generous, like to thine. 
 Their noble deeds conceal.
 
 10 
 
 It happen'd on a summer's clay, 
 Led by the fragrant breeze, 
 
 I wander'd forth to take the air 
 Auiong the green-wood trees; 
 
 Sudden a band of rugged Scots, 
 
 That near in am])ush lay. 
 Moss-troopers from the border-side. 
 
 There seiz'd me for their prey. 
 
 My shrieks had all been spent in vain. 
 But Heaven, that saw my grief, 
 
 Brought this brave youth within my call, 
 Who flew to my relief. 
 
 With nothing but his hunting spear. 
 
 And dagger in his hand, 
 He sprung like lightning on my foes. 
 
 And caus'd them soon to stand. 
 
 He fought, till more assistance came; 
 
 The Scots were overthrown; 
 Thus freed me, captive, from their bands, 
 
 To make me more his own.
 
 11 
 
 O happy day! the youth replied; 
 
 Blest were the wounds I bare ! 
 From that fond hour she deign'd to smile, 
 
 And listen to my prayer. 
 
 And when she knew my name and birth. 
 She vow'd to be my bride; 
 
 But oh ! we fear'd (alas, the while !) 
 Her princely mother's pride : 
 
 Sister of haughty Bolingbroke^, 
 
 Our house's ancient foe. 
 To me I thought a banish'd wight 
 
 Could ne'er such favour show. 
 
 Despairing then to gain consent. 
 
 At length to fly with me 
 I won this lovely timorous maid: — 
 
 To Scotland bound are we. 
 
 This evening, as the night drew on. 
 
 Fearing we were pursu'd. 
 We turn'd adown the right-hand path, 
 
 And gain'd this lonely wood:
 
 12 
 
 Then lighting from our weary steeds 
 To shun the pelting shower. 
 
 We met thy kmcl conducting hand, 
 And reach'd this friendly bower. 
 
 Now rest ye both, the Hermit said; 
 
 Awhile your cares forego: 
 Nor, lady, scorn my humble bed; 
 
 — ^^Ve'11 pass 
 
 the night below*.
 
 FIT TPIE SECOND. 
 
 Lovely smil'd the blushing morn. 
 And every storm was fled; 
 
 But lovelier far, with sweeter smile. 
 Fair Eleanor left her Led. 
 
 She found her Henry all alone. 
 
 And cheer'd him with her sight: 
 
 The youth consulting with his friend 
 Had watch'd the livelong night.
 
 u 
 
 What sweet surprize o'erpower'd her breast! 
 
 Her cheek what blushes dy'd! 
 When fondly he besought her there 
 
 To yield to be his bride. 
 
 Within this lonely hermitage 
 
 There is a chapel meet: 
 Then grant, dear maid, my fond request. 
 
 And make my bliss complete. 
 
 O Henry ! when thou deign' st to sue, 
 
 Can I thy suit withstand? 
 When thou, lov'd youth ! hast won my heart, 
 
 Can I refuse my hand? 
 
 For thee I left a father s smiles. 
 
 And mother's tender care; 
 And, whether weal or woe betide. 
 
 Thy lot I mean to share. 
 
 And wilt thou then, O gen'rous maid! 
 
 Such matchless favour show, 
 To share with me, a banish'cl wight, 
 
 My peril, pain, or woe?
 
 % 
 
 15 
 
 Now Heaven, I trust, hath joys in store 
 To crown thy constant breast; 
 
 For, know, fond hope assvires my heart 
 That we shall soon be blest. 
 
 Not far from hence stands Coquet Isle^, 
 
 Surrounded by the sea; 
 There dwells a holy friar, well known 
 
 To all thy friends and thee: 
 
 'Tis father Bernard, so rever'd 
 
 For every worthy deed; 
 To Raby castle he shall go, 
 
 And for us kindly plead. 
 
 To fetch this good and holy man 
 Oar reverend host is gone; 
 
 And soon, I trust, his pious hands 
 Will join us both in one. 
 
 Thus they in sweet and tender talk 
 The lingering hours beguile: 
 
 At length they see the hoary sage 
 
 Come from the neighbouring isle.
 
 16 
 
 With pious joy and wonder mix'd 
 
 He greets the noble pair, 
 And glad consents to join their hands 
 
 With many a fervent pray'r. 
 
 Then straight to Raby's distant walls 
 
 He kindly wends his way; 
 ^Meantime in love and dalliance sweet 
 
 They spend the livelong day. 
 
 And now, attended by their host, 
 The Hermitage they view'd. 
 
 Deep-hewn within a craggy clifF, 
 And over-hung with Avood. 
 
 And near a flight of shapely steps, 
 
 All cut with nicest skill, 
 And piercing through a stony arch, 
 
 Ran winding up the hill. 
 
 There deck'd with many a flower and herb 
 
 His little Garden stands; 
 With fruitful trees in shady rows. 
 
 All planted by his hands.
 
 17 
 
 Then, scoop'd within the solid rock. 
 Three sacred Vaults he shows. — 
 
 The chief a Chapel, neatly arch'd. 
 On branching Columns rose. 
 
 Each proper ornament was there. 
 That should a chapel grace: 
 
 The Lattice for confession fram'd, 
 And Holy-water Vase. 
 
 O'er either door a sacred Text 
 
 Invites to godly fear; 
 And in a little Scutcheon hung 
 
 The cross, and crown, and spear. 
 
 Up to the Altar's ample breadth 
 
 Two easy steps ascend; 
 And near a glimmering solemn light 
 
 Two well- wrought Windows lend. 
 
 Beside the altar rose a Tomb 
 
 All in the living stone; 
 On which a young and beauteous Maid 
 
 In goodly sculpture shone.
 
 18 
 
 A kneeling Angel fairly carv'd 
 
 Lean'd hovering o'er her breast; 
 
 A weeping warrior at her feet; 
 And near to these her Crest^ 
 
 The cliff, the vault, bnt chief the tomb, 
 Attract the wondring pair: 
 
 Eager they ask. What hapless dame 
 Lies sculptiir'd here so fair? 
 
 The Hermit sigh'd, the Hermit wept. 
 For sorrow scarce could speak: 
 
 At length he wip'd the trickling tears 
 That all bedew'd his cheek: 
 
 Alas! my children, human life 
 
 Is but a vale of woe ; 
 And very mournful is the tale 
 
 Which ye so fain would know
 
 THE HERMIT'S TALE. 
 
 Young lord, thy graiidsire had a friend 
 In days of youthful fame ; 
 
 Yon distant hills were his domains; 
 Sir Bertram was his name.
 
 20 
 
 Where'er the noble Percy foiio^ht 
 His friend was at his side; 
 
 And many a skirmish with the Scots 
 Their early valour tried. 
 
 Young Bertram lov'd a beauteous maid. 
 
 As fair as fair might be: 
 The dew-drop on the lily's cheek 
 
 Was not so fair as she. 
 
 Fair Widdrington the maiden's name; 
 
 Yon tower's her dwelling place': 
 Her sire an old Northumbrian chief 
 
 Devoted to thy race. 
 
 Many a lord, and many a knight. 
 
 To this fair damsel came; 
 But Bertram was her only choice — 
 
 For him she felt a flame. 
 
 Lord Percy pleaded for his friend, 
 Her father soon consents; 
 
 None but the beauteous maid herself 
 His wishes now prevents.
 
 21 
 
 But she with studied fond delays 
 
 Defers the blissful hour; 
 And loves to try his constancy, 
 
 And prove her maiden power. 
 
 That heart, she said, is lightly priz'd 
 
 Which is too lightly won; 
 And long shall rue that easy maid 
 
 Who yields her love too soon. 
 
 Lord Percy made a solemn feast 
 
 In Alnwick's princely hall; 
 And there came lords, and there came knights, 
 
 His chiefs and barons all. 
 
 With wassel, mirth, and revelry. 
 
 The castle rung around : 
 Lord Percy call'd for song and harp, 
 
 And pipes of martial sound. 
 
 The minstrels of thy noble house, 
 
 All clad in robes of blue, 
 With silver crescents on their arms, 
 
 Attend in order due.
 
 22 
 
 The great atchievements of thy race 
 They sung: their high command: 
 
 How valiant Mainfred o'er the seas 
 First led his northern band\ 
 
 Brave Galfred next to Normandy 
 With venturous Rollo came; 
 
 And from his Norman castles w^on, 
 Assum'd the Percy name^ 
 
 They sung, how in the Concjueror's fleet 
 Lord William shipp'd his powers. 
 
 And gain'd a fair young Saxon bride. 
 With all her lands and towers^". 
 
 Then journeying to the Holy Land, 
 There bravely fought and died: 
 
 But first the silver Crescent won. 
 Some paynim Soldan's pride. 
 
 They sung, how Agnes, beauteous heir, 
 The queen's own brother wed. 
 
 Lord JoscELiNE, sprung from Charlemagne, 
 In princely Brabant bred".
 
 23 
 
 How he the Percy name reviv'd; 
 
 And how his noble line, 
 Still foremost in their country's cause, 
 
 With godlike ardour shine. 
 
 With loud acclaims the listening crowd 
 Applaud the master's song, 
 
 And deeds of arms and war became 
 The theme of ev'ry tongue. 
 
 Now high heroic acts they tell, 
 
 Their perils past recall : 
 When, lo ! a damsel, young and fair, 
 
 Stepp'd forward through the hall. 
 
 She Bertram courteously address'd; 
 
 And kneeling on her knee; 
 Sir knight, the lady of thy love 
 
 Hath sent this gift to thee. 
 
 Then forth she drew a glittering helme. 
 
 Well-plated many a fold. 
 The casque was wrought of temper'd steel, 
 
 The crest of burnish'd gold.
 
 24 
 
 Sir knight, thy lady sends thee this. 
 And yields to be thy bride. 
 
 When thou hast prov'd this maiden gift 
 Where sharpest blows are tried. 
 
 Young Bertram took the shining helme, 
 And thrice he kiss'd the same: 
 
 Trust me, I'll prove this precious casque 
 With deeds of noblest fame. 
 
 Lord Percy, and his barons bold. 
 
 Then fix upon a day 
 To scour the marches, late opprest. 
 
 And Scottish wrongs repay. 
 
 The knights assembled on the hills 
 A thousand horse and more: 
 
 Brave Widdrington, though sunk in years. 
 The PERCY-standard bore. 
 
 Tweed's limpid current soon they pass. 
 And range the borders round: 
 
 Down the green slopes of Tiviotdale 
 Their bugle-horns resound.
 
 25 
 
 As when a lion in liis den 
 
 Hath heard the hunters' cries, 
 
 And rushes forth to meet his foes. 
 So did the Douglas rise. 
 
 Attendant on their chief's command 
 A thousand warriors wait: 
 
 And now the fatal hour drew on 
 Of cruel keen debate. 
 
 A chosen troop of Scottish youths 
 
 Advance before the rest; 
 Lord Percy mark'd their gallant mien. 
 
 And thus his friend address'd. 
 
 Now, Bertram, prove thy Lady's helme, 
 Attack yon forward band; 
 
 Dead or alive I'll rescue thee. 
 Or perish by their hand. 
 
 Young Bertram bow'd, with glad assent. 
 And spurr'd his eager steed. 
 
 And calling on his Lady's name, 
 
 Rush'd forth with whirlwind speed.
 
 26 
 
 As when a grove of sapling oaks 
 The livid lightning rends; 
 
 So fiercely 'mid the opposing ranks 
 Sir Bertram's sword descends. 
 
 This way and that he drives the steel, 
 And keenly pierces through; 
 
 And many a tall and comely knight 
 With furious force he slew. 
 
 Now closing fast on every side 
 
 They hem Sir Bertram round; 
 
 But dauntless he repels their rage, 
 And deals forth many a wound. 
 
 The vigour of his single arm 
 
 Had well-nigh won the field; 
 
 When ponderous fell a Scottish ax. 
 And clove his lifted shield. 
 
 Another blow his temple took. 
 And reft his helme in twain; 
 
 That beauteous helme, his Lady's gift! 
 — His blood bedew'd the plain.
 
 27 
 
 Lord Percy saw his champion fall 
 
 Amid the unequal fight; 
 And now, my nohle friends, he said. 
 
 Let's save this gallant knight. 
 
 Then rushing in with stretch'd-out shield 
 
 He o'er the warrior hung; 
 As some fierce eagle spreads her wing 
 
 To guard her callow young. 
 
 Three times they strove to seize their prey. 
 Three times they quick retire: 
 
 What force could stand his furious strokes, 
 Or meet his martial fire? 
 
 Now gathering round on ev'ry part, 
 
 The battle rag'd amain; 
 And many a lady wept her lord 
 
 That hour untimely slain. 
 
 Percy and Douglas, great in arms, 
 There all their courag-e show'd; 
 
 And all the field was strew'd with dead, 
 And all with crimson flow'd.
 
 28 
 
 At length the glory of the day 
 
 The Scots reluctant yield. 
 And, after wondrous valour shown. 
 
 They slowly quit the field. 
 
 All pale extended on their shields. 
 
 And welt'ring in his gore. 
 Lord Percy's knights their bleeding friend 
 
 To Wark's'^ fair castle bore. 
 
 Well hast thou earn'd my daughter's love, 
 
 Her father kindly said; 
 And she herself shall dress thy wounds. 
 
 And tend thee in thy bed. 
 
 A message vrent, no daughter came; 
 
 Fair Isabel ne'er appears: 
 Beshrew me, said the aged chief. 
 
 Young maidens have their fears. 
 
 Cheer up, my son, thou shalt her see 
 
 So soon as thou canst ride; 
 And she shall nurse thee in her bower, 
 
 And she shall be thy bride.
 
 29 
 
 Sir Bertram at her name reviv'd, 
 He bless'd the soothing sound; 
 
 Fond hope supplied the Nurse's care, 
 And heal'd his ghastly wound.
 
 PIT THE THIRD. 
 
 One early morn, while dewy drops 
 Hung trembling on the tree, 
 
 Sir Bertram from his sick-bed rose- 
 His bride he would go see. 
 
 A brother he had, in prime of youth, 
 Of courage firm and keen, 
 
 And he would tend him on the way, 
 Because his wounds were green.
 
 32 
 
 All day o'er moss and moor they rode. 
 
 By many a lonely tower; 
 And 't was the dew-fall of the night 
 
 Ere they drew near her bower. 
 
 Most drear and dark the castle seem'd, 
 That wont to shine so bright; 
 
 And long and loud Sir Bertram call'd 
 Ere he beheld a light. 
 
 At length her aged Nurse arose. 
 With voice so shrill and clear: 
 
 What wight is this, that calls so loud. 
 And knocks so boldly here? 
 
 'Tis Bertram calls, thy Lady's love. 
 Come from his bed of care : 
 
 All day I've ridden o'er moor and moss 
 To see thy Lady fair. 
 
 Now out, alas! (she loudly shriek'd) 
 
 Alas! how may this be? 
 For six long days are gone and past 
 
 Since she set out to thee.
 
 33 
 
 Sad terror seiz'd Sir Bertram's heart, 
 
 And ready was he to fall; 
 When now the draw-bridge was let down, 
 
 And gates were open'd all. 
 
 Six days, young knight, are past and gone. 
 
 Since she set out to thee; 
 And sure if no sad harm had hap'd 
 
 Long since thou wouldst her see. 
 
 For when she heard thy grievous chance. 
 She tore her hair, and cried, 
 
 Alas! I've slain the comeliest knight. 
 All through my folly and pride! 
 
 And now t' atone for my sad fault. 
 
 And his dear health regain, 
 I'll go myself, and nurse my love. 
 
 And soothe his bed of pain. 
 
 Then mounted she her milk-white steed 
 
 One morn at break of day; 
 And two tall yeomen went with her 
 
 To guard her on the way.
 
 34 
 
 Sad terror smote Sir Bertram's heart. 
 And grief o'erwhelm'd his mind: 
 
 Trnst me, said he, I ne'er will rest 
 Till I thy Lady find. 
 
 That night he spent in sorrow and care; 
 
 And with sad boding heart, 
 Or ere the dawning of the day 
 
 His brother and he depart. 
 
 Now, brother, we'll our ways divide, 
 O'er Scottish hills to range: 
 
 Do thou go north, and I'll go west; 
 And all our dress we'll change. 
 
 Some Scottish carle hath seiz'd my love. 
 And borne her to his den; 
 
 And ne'er will I tread English ground 
 Till she 's restor'd agen. 
 
 The brothers strait their paths divide. 
 O'er Scottish hills to range; 
 
 And hide themselves in queint disguise, 
 And oft their dress they change.
 
 35 
 
 Sir Bertram clad in gown of gray, 
 Most like a Palmer poor. 
 
 To halls and castles wanders round. 
 And begs from door to door. 
 
 Sometimes a Minstrel's garb lie wears. 
 With pipes so sweet and shrill; 
 
 And wends to every tower and town, 
 O'er every dale and hill. 
 
 One day as he sate under a thorn. 
 All sunk in deep despair, 
 
 An aged Pilgrim pass'd him by. 
 Who mark'd his face of care. 
 
 All Minstrels yet that e'er I saw. 
 Are full of game and glee : 
 
 But thou art sad and woe-begone! 
 I marvel whence it be! 
 
 Father, I serve an aged Lord, 
 
 Whose grief afflicts my mind; 
 
 His only child is stol'n away. 
 And fain I would her find.
 
 36 
 
 Cheer up, my son; perchance (he said) 
 
 Some tidings I may bear: 
 For oft when human hopes have fail'd, 
 
 Then heavenly comfort's near. 
 
 Behind yon hills, so steep and high, 
 
 Dow^n in a low^ly glen. 
 There stands a castle fair and strong, 
 
 Far from th' abode of men. 
 
 As late I chanc'd to crave an alms 
 
 About this evening hour, 
 Methought I heard a Lady's voice 
 
 Lamenting in the tovv^er. 
 
 And w^hen I ask'd, w^hat harm had happ'd. 
 
 What Lady sick there lay? 
 They rudely drove me from the gate. 
 
 And bade me wend away. 
 
 These tidings caught Sir Bertram's ear. 
 He thank'd him for his tale; 
 
 And soon he hasted o'er the hills, 
 And soon he reach'd the vale.
 
 37 
 
 Then drawing near those lonely towers, 
 Which stood in dale so low, 
 
 And sitting down beside the gate, 
 His pipes he 'gan to blow. 
 
 Sir Porter, is thy lord at home 
 To hear a Minstrel's song? 
 
 Or may I crave a lodging here, 
 Without offence or wrong? 
 
 My Lord, he said, is not at home. 
 To hear a Minstrel's song: 
 
 And should I lend thee lodging here. 
 My life would not be long. 
 
 He play'd again so soft a strain. 
 
 Such power sweet sounds impart. 
 
 He won the churlish Porter's ear. 
 And mov'd his stubborn heart. 
 
 Minstrel, he said, thou play'st so sweet. 
 Fair entrance thou shouldst win; 
 
 But, alas! I'm sworn upon the rood 
 To let no stranger in.
 
 38 
 
 Yet, Minstrel, in yon rising cliff 
 Thou'lt find a sheltering cave; 
 
 And here thou shalt my supper share, 
 And there thy lodging have. 
 
 All day he sits beside the gate, 
 
 And pipes both loud and clear: 
 
 All night he watches round the walls. 
 In hopes his love to hear. 
 
 The first night, as he silent -vvatch'd, 
 All at the midnight hour. 
 
 He plainly heard his Lady's voice 
 Lamenting in the tower. 
 
 The second night the moon shone clear, 
 And gilt the spangled dew; 
 
 He saw his Lady through the grate, 
 But 'twas a transient view. 
 
 The third night wearied out he slept 
 'Till near the morning tide; 
 
 When, starting up, he seiz'd his sword, 
 And to the castle hied.
 
 39 
 
 When, lo ! he saw a ladder of ropes 
 Dependmg from the wall; 
 
 And o'er the mote was newly laid 
 A poplar strong and tall. 
 
 And soon he saw his love descend, 
 
 Wrapt in a Tartan plaid; 
 Assisted by a sturdy youth 
 
 In highland garb y-clad. 
 
 Amaz'd, confounded at the sight. 
 
 He lay unseen and still; 
 And soon he saw them cross the stream. 
 
 And mount the neighbouring hill. 
 
 Unheard, unknown of all within, 
 
 The youthful couple fly. 
 But what can 'scape the lover's ken? 
 
 Or shun his piercing eye! 
 
 With silent steps he follows close 
 
 Behind the flying pair. 
 And saw her hang upon his arm 
 
 With fond familiar air.
 
 40 
 
 Thanks, gentle youth, she often said; 
 
 My thanks thou well hast won: 
 For me what wiles hast thou contriv'd! 
 
 For me what dangers run! 
 
 And ever shall my grateful heart 
 
 Thy services repay: — 
 Sir Bertram would no further hear, 
 
 But cried. Vile traitor, stay! 
 
 Vile traitor, yield that Lady up! 
 
 And quick his sword he drew: 
 The stranger turn'd in sudden rage. 
 
 And at Sir Bertram flew. 
 
 With mortal hate their vigorous arms 
 Gave many a vengeful l)low: 
 
 But Bertram's stronger hand prevail'd. 
 And laid the stranger low. 
 
 Die, traitor, die! — A deadly thrust 
 Attends each furious word. 
 
 Ah! then fair Isabel knew his voice. 
 And rush'd beneath his sword.
 
 41 
 
 Ob, stop! she cried, Oh, stop thy arm! 
 
 Thou dost thy brother slay! — 
 And here the Hermit paus'd, and wept: 
 
 His tongue no more could say. 
 
 At length he cried, Ye lovely pair, 
 How shall I tell the rest? — 
 
 Ere I could stop my piercing sword, 
 It fell, and stabb'd her breast. 
 
 Wert thou thyself that hapless youth? 
 
 Ah, cruel fate! they said. 
 The Hermit wept, and so did they: 
 
 They sigh'd; he hung his head. 
 
 blind and jealous rage, he cried. 
 
 What evils from thee flow! 
 The Hermit paus'd; they silent mourn'd: 
 He wept, and they were woe. 
 
 Ah! when I heard my brother's name. 
 And saw my Lady bleed, 
 
 1 rav'd, I wept, I curst my arm 
 
 That wrought the fatal deed.
 
 42 
 
 In vain I clasp'd her to my jjreast, 
 And clos'd the ghastly wound; 
 
 In vain I press'd his bleeding corpse, 
 And rais'd it from the ground. 
 
 My brother, alas! spoke never more; 
 
 His precious life was flown. 
 She kindly strove to soothe my pain, 
 
 Regardless of her own. 
 
 Bertram, she said, be comforted, 
 And live to think on me: 
 
 May we in heaven that union prove 
 Which here was not to be! 
 
 Bertram, she said, I still was true; 
 
 Thou only hadst my heart: 
 May we hereafter meet in bliss! 
 
 We now, alas! must part. 
 
 For thee I left my father's hall. 
 
 And flew to thy relief; 
 When, lo! near Chiviot's fatal hills 
 
 I met a Scottish chief.
 
 43 
 
 Lord Malcolm's son, whose proffer'd love 
 
 I had refus'd with scorn; 
 He slew my guards, and seiz'd on me, 
 
 Upon that fatal morn: 
 
 And in these dreary hated walls 
 He kept me close confin'd ; 
 
 And fondly sued, and warmly press'd 
 To win me to his mind. 
 
 Each rising morn increas'd my pain, 
 Each night increas'd my fear; 
 
 When, wandering in this northern garb. 
 Thy brother found me here. 
 
 He quickly form'd this brave design, 
 
 To set me, captive, free; 
 And on the moor his horses wait. 
 
 Tied to a neigldDouring tree. 
 
 Then haste, my love, escape away. 
 
 And for thyself provide; 
 And sometimes fondly think on her 
 
 Who should have been thy bride.
 
 Thus pouring comfort on my soul 
 Ev'n with her latest breath, 
 
 She gave one parting fond embrace. 
 And clos'd her eyes in deatli. 
 
 In wild amaze, in speechless woe. 
 
 Devoid of sense I lay: 
 Then sudden all in frantic mood 
 
 I meant myself to slay : 
 
 And rising up in furious haste 
 I seiz'd the bloody brand": 
 
 A sturdy arm here interpose!, 
 
 And wrench'd it from my hand. 
 
 A crowd, that from the castle came. 
 Had miss'd their lovely ward; 
 
 And seizing me to prison bare, 
 
 And deep in dungeon barrel. 
 
 It chanc'd that on that very morn 
 Their chief was prisoner ta'en : 
 
 Lord Percy had us soon exchang'd. 
 And strove to soothe my pain.
 
 45 
 
 And soon those honour'd dear remains 
 To England were convey'd; 
 
 And there within their silent tombs. 
 With holy rites were laid. 
 
 For me, I loath' d my wretched life. 
 And long to end it thonght; 
 
 'Till time and l^ooks and holy men 
 Had better counsels taught. 
 
 They rais'd my heart to that pure source 
 Whence heavenly comfort flows: 
 
 They taught me to despise the world. 
 And calmly bear its woes. 
 
 No more the slave of human pride, 
 Vain hope, and sordid care; 
 
 I meekly vow'd to spend my life 
 In penitence and pray'r. 
 
 The bold Sir Bertram now no more, 
 Impetuous, haughty, wild; 
 
 But poor and humble Benedict, 
 Now lowly, patient, mild:
 
 46 
 
 My lands I gave to feed the poor, 
 
 And sacred altars raise; 
 And here a lonely Anchorite 
 
 I came to end my days. 
 
 This sweet sequester'd vale I chose. 
 These rocks, and hanging grove; 
 
 For oft heside that murmuring stream 
 My love w^as wont to rove. 
 
 My nohle Friend approv'd my choice; 
 
 This blest retreat he gave; 
 And here I carv'd her beauteous form. 
 
 And scoop'd this holy cave. 
 
 Full fifty winters, all forlorn. 
 My life Fve linger'd here; 
 
 And daily o'er this sculptur'd saint 
 I drop the pensive tear. 
 
 And thou, dear brother of my heart! 
 
 So faithful and so true, 
 The sad remembrance of thy fate 
 
 Still makes my bosom rue!
 
 47 
 
 Yet not unpitied pass'cl my life, 
 
 Forsaken, or forgot. 
 The Percy and his noble Sons 
 
 Would grace my lowly cot. 
 
 Oft the great Earl, from toils of state 
 And cumb'rous pomp of power. 
 
 Would gladly seek my little cell. 
 To spend the tranquil hour. 
 
 But length of life is length of woe:— 
 
 I liv'd to mourn his fall; 
 I liv'd to mourn his godlike Sons, 
 
 And friends, and followers all. 
 
 But thou the honours of thy race, 
 
 Lov'd youth, shalt now restore; 
 And raise again the Percy name 
 More glorious than before. 
 
 He ceas'd: and on the lovely pair 
 His choicest blessings laid; 
 
 While they with thanks and pitying tears 
 His mournful tale repaid.
 
 48 
 
 And now what present course to take. 
 They ask the good old sire; 
 
 And, guided by his sage advice, 
 To Scotland they retire. 
 
 Mean-time their suit such favour found 
 
 At Raby's stately hall, 
 Earl Neville, and his princely Spouse, 
 
 Now gladly pardon all. 
 
 She suppliant at her Nephew's'* throne 
 The royal grace implor'd: 
 
 To all the honours of his race 
 The Percy was restor'd. 
 
 The youthful Earl still more and more 
 Admir'd his beauteous dame: 
 
 Nine noble Sons to him she bore, 
 All worthy of their name.
 
 NOTES. 
 
 1 (p. 9) Beneath the REGENT 's hand,'] Robert Stuart, duke of Albany. See the continuator 
 of Fordun's Scoti-Chronicon, cap. 18, cap. 23, Sj-c. 
 
 2 (p. 9.) Till in the noble Neville'* house'] RALPH Neville, first earl of Westmoreland, who 
 chiefly resided at his two Castles of Brancepeth, and Raby, both in tlie bishoprick of Durham. 
 
 3 (p. 11.) Sister of haughty 'Roi.ifiGZVLOK-E,] Jo AN, countess of Westmoreland, mother of the young 
 lady, was daughter of John of Gaunt, and half-sister of kuig Henry IV. 
 
 4 (p. 12.) We'll pass the night below.] Adjoining to the cliff, which contains the Chapel of tlie Her- 
 mitage, are the remains of a small building, in which the Hermit dwelt. This consisted of one lower 
 Apartment, wit'i a little Bed-chamber over it, and is now in ruins: whereas the Chapel, cut in the solid 
 rock, b still very entire and perfect. 
 
 5 (p. 15.) Not far from hence stands CoQVET isle,] In the little Island of CoQUET, near Warkworth, 
 are still seen the ruins of a Cell, which belonged to the Benedictine monks of Tinemouth Abbey. 
 
 6 (p. 18.) And near to these her CREST.] This is a Bull's Head, the crest of the Widdrington 
 family. All the Figures, <5 c. here described are still visible, only somewhat effaced with length of time, 
 
 7 (p. 20.) Yon tower's her dwelling place ;] Widdrington castle is about five miles south of Wark- 
 worth. 
 
 8 (p. 22.) First led his northern band.] See Dugdale's Baronage, page 269, 4-c, 
 
 9 (p. 22.) Assum'd the Percy name.] In Lower Normandy are tlu-ec Places of the name of Percy; 
 whence the Family took the surname De Percy. 
 
 10 (p. 22.) With all her lands and towers.] William de Percy, (fifth in Descent from Galfeed 
 or Geffrey de Percy, son of Mainfred,) assisted in the conquest of England, and had given him 
 the large possessions in Yorkshire, of Emma de Porte, (so the Norman writers name her,) whose father, 
 a great Saxon lord, had been slain fighting along with Harold. This young lady, William, from a 
 principle of honour and generosity, married : for havuig had all her lands bestowed upon him by the Con-
 
 50 
 
 queror, " he (to use tlie words of the old VVliitby Chronicle) wedded hyr that was very heire to them, in 
 " discharging of his conscience." See Harl. MSS, GQi. {'26.) — He died at Mountjoy, near Jerusalem, in 
 the first Crusade. 
 
 11 (p. 22.) In princely Brabant bt-ed.] Agnes oe Percy, sole heiress of her house, married Jos- 
 CEINE de Lovain, youngest son of Godfrey Barbatus, duke of Brabant, and brother of queen Adeliza, 
 second wife of king Henry I. He took the name of Perct, and was ancestor of the earls of Northum- 
 berland. His son, lord Richard de Percy, was one of the twenty-six barons chosen to see the Magna 
 Charta duly obser\ed. 
 
 12 (p. 28.) To W auk's fair castle bore.l Wark castle, a fortress belonging to tlie English, and of 
 great note in ancient times, stood on the southern bank of the river Tweed, a little to the east of TiviOT- 
 DALE, and not far from Kelso. It is now entirely destroyed. 
 
 13 (p. 44.) I seiz'd the bloody BRAND:] i. e. Sword. 
 
 14 (p. 48.) She suppliant at her nephew's throne/] King Henry V. Anno 1414.
 
 51 
 
 The account given in the foregoing ballad of young Percy, the son 
 of Hotspur, is confirmed by the following Extract from an old Chronicle 
 formerly belonging to Whitby Abbey. 
 
 " Henry Percy, the son of Sir Henry Percy, that was slayne at 
 " Shrewesbury, and of Elizabeth, the daughter of the Erie of Marche, 
 " after the death of his Father and Grauntsyre, was exiled into Scotland* 
 " in the time of king Henry the Fourth: but in the time of king Henry 
 " the Fifth, by the labour of Johanne the countes of Westmerland, 
 " (whose Daughter Allanor he had wedded in coming into 
 " England,) he recovered the King's grace, and the countye of North- 
 " umberland, so was the second Erle of Northumberland. 
 
 " And of this Allanor his wife, he begate IX Sonnes, and III Daugh- 
 " ters, whose names be Johanne, that is buried at Whytbye: Thomas, 
 " lord Egremont: Katharyne Gray of Rythyn: Sir Raffe Percy: 
 " William Percy, a Byshopp: Richard Percy: John, that dyed 
 "without Issue: [another John, called by Vincent -f- 'Johannes 
 " Percy senior de Warkworth:"] George Percy, Clerk: Henry that 
 
 " dyed without Issue: Anne " [besides the eldest son and suc- 
 
 " cessor here omitted, because he comes in below, viz.] 
 
 " Henry Percy, the third Erie of Northumberland." 
 
 Vid. Ilarl. MSS. No. 692. (26.) in the British Museum. 
 
 * i. e. remained an Exile in Scotland during the Rcigii of king Henry IV. In Scotia exulaxit tempore 
 Henrici Regis quarti. Lat. MS. penes Due. North. 
 
 + See his Great Baronag. No. 20, in the Heralds-office.
 
 POSTSCRIPT. 
 
 It will perhaps gratify the curious Reader to be informed, that from 
 a word or two formerly legible over one of the Chapel Doors, it is be- 
 lieved that the Text there inscribed Avas that Latin verse of the Psalmist*, 
 which is in our Translation, 
 
 MY TEARS HAVE BEEN MY MEAT DAY AND NIGHT. 
 
 It is also certain, that the memory of the first Hermit was held in 
 such regard and veneration by the Percy Family, that they afterwards 
 maintained a Chantry Priest, to reside in the Hermitage, and celebrate 
 Mass in the Chapel: whose allowance, uncommonly liberal and munifi- 
 cent, was continued down to the Dissolution of the Monasteries; and 
 then the whole Salarj^ together Avith the Heraiitage and all its depen- 
 dencies, rcA'erted back to the Famil}-, having ncA-er been endoAved in 
 mortmain. On this account we have no Record, which fixes the date of 
 the Foundation, or gives any particular account of the first Hermit; but 
 the folIoAving Instrument Avill shew the liberal Exhibition offered to his 
 Successors. It is the Patent granted to the last Hermit in 1532, and is 
 copied from an ancient MS. book of Grants, &;c. of the Vlth Earl of 
 Northumberland, in Henry Vlllth's time-f-, 
 
 » Psal. xlii. 3. 
 + Classed, F. I. No. 1. penes Due. Nortliiimb.
 
 53 
 
 « SIR GEORGE LANCASTRE PATENT OF XX MERKS 
 
 BY YERE. 
 
 " Henry Erie of Northumberland, &c. Knowe youe that I the 
 " said Erie, in consideration of the diligent and thankfull service, that 
 " my Avellbeloved Chaplen Sir George Lancastre hath don unto me 
 " the said Erie, and also for the goode and vertus dispotion that I do 
 " perceive in him : And for that he shall have in his daily recommenda- 
 " tion and praiers the good estate of all suche noble Blode and other 
 " Personages, as be now levynge ; And the Soules of such noble Blode 
 " as be departed to the mercy of God owte of this present lyve, Whos 
 " Names are conteyned and wrettyn in a Table upon perchment signed 
 " witli thande of me the said Erie, and delivered to the custodie and 
 " keapynge of the said sir George Lancastre : And further, that he shall 
 " kepe and saye his devyn service in celebratyng and doynge Masse of 
 " Requiem every weke accordinge as it is Avritten and set furth in the 
 " saide Table: Have geven and graunted, and by these presentes do 
 " gyve and graunte unto the said sir George, myn Armytage belded in 
 " a Rock of stone within my Parke of Warkworth in the Countie of 
 " Northumbreland in the honour of the blessed Trynete, With a yerly 
 " Stipende of twenty Merks by yer*, from the feest of seint Michell 
 "• tharchaungell last past afore the date hereof yerly duryng the natural 
 " lyve of the said sir George : and also I the said Erie have geven and 
 " graunted, and by these Presents do gyve and graunte unto the said sir 
 " George Lancastre, the occupation of one litle Gresground of myn 
 " called Cony-garth nygh adjoynynge the said Harmytage, only to his 
 " own use and proufit wynter and sumer durynge the said terme; The 
 
 * This would be equal to 100/. per annum now. See the Chronicon Pretiosura.
 
 54 
 
 " Garden and Orte3'ardc bclongyng the said Armytage; The Gate* and 
 " Pasture of Twelf Kye and a Bull, Avith their Calves suking; And two 
 " Horses goyin and beyng within my said Parke of Warkworth wynter 
 " and somer; One Draught of Fisshe every Sondaie in the yere to be 
 " drawen fornenst'^- the said Armytage, called the Trynete Draught; 
 " And Twenty Lods of Fyrewode to be taken of my Wodds called 
 " Shilbotell Wode, duryng the said term. The said Stipend of xx Merks 
 " by yer to be taken and perceived J yerly of the rent and femie of my 
 " Fisshyng of Warkworth, by thands of the Fermour or Fermours of the 
 " same for the tyme beynge yerly at the times ther used and accustomed 
 " by evyn Portions. In wytnes whereof to thes my ^„^^^ .^ recompense 
 
 " Letters Patentes I the said Erie have set the Scale hcrof yerly x"§. 
 " of myn Amies: Yeven undre my Signet at my "^ " ^^^^' 
 
 " Castell of Warkworth, the third daye of Decenibre, in the xxiii"* Yer 
 " of the Rcigne of our Sovereyn Lorde kyng Henry the eight." 
 
 On the dissolution of the Monasteries, the above Patent was pro- 
 duced before the Court of Augmentation in Michaelmas Term, 20 Oct. 
 A. 29- Hen. VIII. Avhen the same was allowed by the Chancellor and 
 Council of the said Court, and all the profits confirmed to the incum- 
 bent Sir George Lancaster; Excepting that in compensation for the an- 
 nual Stipend of Twenty Marks, he Avas to receive a Stipend of Ten 
 
 * i. e. Going : from the verb, To Gae. 
 
 I Or forc-aueust: i. e. opposite. 
 
 I Sic MS. 
 
 § So the MS. Sir Richard Rych was Chancellor of tlie Augmentations at the Suppression of the Mo- 
 nasteries.
 
 bo 
 
 Marks, and to have a free Chapel called The Rood Chapel, and the Ho- 
 spital of St. Leonard, within the Barony of Wigdon, in the County of 
 Cumberland. 
 
 After the perusal of the above Patent it will perhaps be needless to 
 caution the Reader against a Mistake, some have fallen into; of con- 
 founding this Hermitage near Warkworth, Avith a Chantry founded 
 WITHIN the town itself, by Nicholas de Farnham, bishop of Durham, in 
 the reign of Henry HI. who appropriated the Church of Brankeston for 
 the maintenance there of two Benedictine Monks from Durham*. 
 That small monastic foundation is indeed called a Cell by bishop 
 Tanner-j- : but he must be very ignorant, Avho supposes that by the word 
 Cell is necessarily to be understood a Hermitage; whereas it was com- 
 monly applied to any small conventual establishment, which Avas de- 
 pendant on another. 
 
 As for the Chapel belonging to this endowment of bishop Farnham, 
 it is mentioned as in ruins in several old Surveys of Queen Elizabeth's 
 time; and its scite, not far from Warkworth Church, is still remembered. 
 But that there Avas never more than one Priest maintained, at one and 
 the same time, within the Hermitage, is plainly proved (if any further 
 proof be Avanting) by the folloAving Extract from a Survey of WarkAvorth, 
 made in the Year 156"7 J, viz. 
 
 " Ther is in the Parke (sc. of WarkAvorth) also one HoAVse hcAvyn 
 " within one Cragge, Avhich is called the Harmitage Ciiapel: In the 
 
 * Aug. Sacr. p. 738. 
 
 t Not. Mon. p. 396. 
 
 X By Geo. Clarkson, MS. penes Due. North.
 
 56 
 
 " same ther haith bene one Preast keaped, which did such godlye Ser- 
 " vices as that tyme was used and celebrated. The Mantion House [sc. 
 " the small building adjoining to the Cragg] js nowe in decaye: the 
 " Closes that apperteined to the said Chantrie is occupied to his Lord- 
 " ship's use."
 
 57 
 
 To complete the Subject of the HERMITAGE OF WARKWORTH, 
 it may be proper to subjoin here, from Captain Grose's " Antiquities of 
 England and Wales," 1 775, 4 Vols. 4to. 
 
 An Extract of a Letter from Newcastle upon Tyne, dated the Sixth of September, \~~l. 
 
 ***** I SHALL now, in compliance with your request, atteni))t to give you a Description of tlie ruins 
 of the ancient Hermitage at Wariiworth, whicli tlie very interesting Ballad, lately published on that sub- 
 ject, excited in me so great a desire to see. 
 
 As I went fioni Newcastle, I quitted the great Northern Road at a small village called Felion, («hicli 
 stands about uiid-way bet\\ecn Morpeth and Alnwick,) and had a most romantic ride for the most part 
 down a most beautiful rocky Vale, worn by the current of the river Coquet, which afforded a succession 
 of very picturesque scenes. 
 
 I was much pleased with the situation of Warkworth itself; particularly with the Castle, which, al- 
 though in ruins, is a fine Monument of ancient Grandeur, being one of the proud Fortresses, which here- 
 tofore belonged to the noble House of Percy, and from them descended to the present Duke and Duchess 
 of Northumberland ; who, together with the princely possessions, have inherited the generosity and magni- 
 ficence of that great family. 
 
 Warkworth Castle deserves itself a particular description: I shall, therefore, at present only observe, 
 that it is very boldly situate on an eminence, and overlooks the river Coquet, where it discharges its waters 
 into the sea, and almost washes an Island of the same name; which, from its circular form, easy distance 
 from the shore, and a little antique Tower, the remains of a small Monastic Edifice erected upon it, is a 
 most beautiful object seen from every part of the coast. 
 
 From the Castle we ascended not more than half a mile up the river, before we came to the Hermitage; 
 which is probably the best preserved and most entire now remaining in these kingdoms. It still contains 
 three Apartments, all of them hollowed in the solid Rock, and hanging over the river in the most pictu- 
 resque manner imaginable, with a covering of ancient hoai-y Trees, Reliques of the venerable Woods, ui 
 which this fine solitude was anciently embowered. 
 
 As the Hermitage, with all its striking peculiarities, is veiy exactly described in the Ballad of the 
 Hermit of Warkv:orth, I might be content to transcribe the descriptive jiart of that Poem: but as you have 
 insisted upon my relating to you what I saw myself, I shall endeavour to obey you. 
 
 The Cave contains three Apartments; which, by way of distinction, I will venture to call the Chapel, 
 Sacristy, and Antichapel. Of these, the Chapel is very entire and perfect : but the two others have sulTercd
 
 58 
 
 by the falling down of the rock at the west eud. By this accident a beautiful Pillar, which formerly stood 
 between these two apartments, and gave an elegant finishing to this end of the Sacred Vaults, was, within 
 the memorj' of old people, destroyed. 
 
 The Chapel is not more than eighteen feet long, nor more tlian seven and a half in width and heighth ; 
 but is modelled and executed in a very beautiful style of Gothic Architecture. The Sides are ornamented 
 with neat Octagon Pillars, all cut in the solid Rock ; which branch off into the cieling, and foniiing little 
 pointed Arches, terminate in Groins. At the East end is a handsonie plain Altar, to which the Priest as- 
 cended by two Steps: These, in tlie course of ages, have been mucli worn away through the soft yielding 
 natine of the stone. Behind the Altar is a httle Nich, which probably received the Crucifix, or the Pix. 
 Over this Nich is still seen the faint outline of a Glorj-. 
 
 On the North-side of the Altar is a very beautiful Gothic Window, executed like all the rest, in the 
 living Rock. This Window transmitted light from the Chapel to the Sacristy; or what else shall we call 
 it? being a plain oblong room v.hicli runs parallel with the Chapel, somewhat longer than it, but not so 
 wide. At the east end of this apartment are still seen the remains of an Altar, at whicii Mass was occa- 
 sionally sung, as «ell as in the Chapel. Between it and the Chapel is a square Perforation, with some ap- 
 pearance of Bars, or a Lattice, tlirough which the Hermit might attend Confession, or behold the elevation 
 of the Host without entering the Chapel. Near this Perforation is a ueat Door-case opening into the 
 Chapel out of this Side-room or Sacristy, which contains a Benching cut in the rock, whence is seen a most 
 beautiful View up the river, finely overhung with woods. Over the Door case, wthin the Chapel, is carved 
 a small neat Scutcheon, with all the emblems of the Passion, sc. the Cross, the Crown of Thorns, the Nails, 
 the Spear, and the Spunge. 
 
 On the south side of the Altar is another Window, and below it a neat Cenotaph or Tomb, ornamented 
 witli three human Figures elegantly cut in the rock. The principal Figure represents a Lady lying along, 
 still very entire and perfect : over her breast hovers what probably was an Angel, but mucli defaced : and 
 at her feet is a Warrior erect, and perhaps originally in a praying posture; but he is likewise mutilated by 
 Time. At her feet is also a rude sculpture of a Bull's or Ox's Head; whicli tlie Editor of the Ballad not 
 unreasonably conjectures to have been the Lady's Crest. This was, as he observes, the Crest of the Wid- 
 drington Family, whose castle is but five Miles from this Hermitage. It was also the ancient Crest of tlie 
 Nevilles, and of one or two other families m the North, 
 
 On the same side is anotlicr Door-case, and near it an Excavation to contain the Holy Water. Over 
 both the Door-cases are still seen the traces of Letters, vestiges of two ancient Inscriptions ; but so much 
 defaced as to be at present illegible. I must refer you to the Poem for a further account of them. 
 
 This Door opens into a little vestibule, containing two square niches, in whicli the Hermit sat to con- 
 template; and his view from hence was well calculated to uispire meditation. He looked down upon the 
 River which washes the foot of the Hermitage, and glides away in a constant murmuring lapse; and he might
 
 59 
 
 thence have taken occasion, like the Author of the Night Thoughts, to remind some young tlioughtless 
 Visitant, 
 
 " Life glides away, Lorenzo ! like a stream, 
 " For ever changing, unperceiv'd the change. 
 " In the same stream none ever balh'd liim twice; 
 " To the same life none ever twice awoke. 
 " We call the stream the same, the same we think 
 " Our life, tiiou^h still more rapid in its flow; 
 " Nor mark the Much irrevocably laps'd, 
 " And mmgled with the sea." 
 
 Over the Inner Door, within the Vestibule, hangs another Scutcheon with some Sculpture, which we 
 took for the representation of a Gauntlet ; perhaps it was the Founder's Arms or Crest. On the outward 
 face of the Rock, near the small Vestibule above-mentioned, is a winding stair-case cut also in the living 
 stone, and leading through a neat arched Door-case in the same, up to the top of the Cliff which joins the 
 level of the ancient Park ; and here was planted the Hermit's Orchard. Tiiis has long since been destroyed ; 
 but Cherry-trees propagated from his Plantations are still scattered over the neighbouring thicket. His 
 Garden was below at the foot of the hill, as we were infonned; and indeed some straggling flowers and 
 one little solitary Gooseberry-bush, which still grows out of a cleft in the rock, confirm the tradition. 
 
 As all the Apartments above-described seem to have been appropriated to sacred uses, you will natur- 
 ally enquire where was the Dwelling of the Hermit, or at least of his Successors? This was a small square 
 Building, erected at the foot of the Clitt", that contains the Ciiapel. It consisted of one single dwelling- 
 room, with a Bed-chamber over it, and a small Kitchen adjoining; which is now fallen in and covered with 
 earth ; but the ruins of the Oven still mark its situation, and shew that some of the inliabilants of this Her- 
 mitage did not always dislike good cheer. 
 
 This little Building, erected below the Chapel, being composed of materials brought together by 
 human hands, has long since gone to ruin ; w iiereas the Walls of the Chapel itself, being as old as the 
 World, will, if not purposely destroyed, probably last as long as it, and continue to amuse the latest 
 posterity. It gave me particular pleasure to observe, that the present noble Proprietors have thought this 
 curiosity not unworthy their attention, and have therefore bestowed a proper care to have it kept clean and 
 neat; have cleared the Hermit's Path, which was choaked up, by the River's side; have restored his Well, 
 (a small bubbling Fountain of clear water, wliicii issues from the adjoining Rock); and have renewed tlie 
 Wood by new Plantations at the top of the Clift', where the Trees had been thinned or destroyed by Time. 
 
 In this delightful solitude, so beautiful in itself, and so venerable for its antiquity, you will judge with 
 what pleasure I perused the very amusing and interesting Tale of the Hermit of Warkworth : having the 
 whole Scene before me, and fancying I was present at the Hermit's tender relation.
 
 60 
 
 And this leads me to your last query ; what foundation the author of the poem had for his Story, which 
 Le gives as founded on truth ? By all the enquiries I could make in the neighbourliood, it is the received 
 tradition, that the Founder of this Hermitage «as one of the Bertram family, who were anciently Lords of 
 Bothal Castle, and had great possessions in this County. He is also thought to be the same Bertram, who 
 havuig built Brinkburn Abbey, anfl Brinkshaugh Chapel higher up the River, at last retired to end his life 
 in this sequestered valley. But the Editor has given reasons, «hy he thinks the Hermitage was founded at 
 a later period than those Buildings, by another of the same Name and Family. It is also the universal 
 tradition. That he imposed his penance upon himself to expiate the murder of his Brother. As for the 
 Lady, I could not find that any thing particular is remembered concerning her ; but the elegant Sculpture 
 of her Figure upon the Tomb, and the Crest at her feet, seem sutficiently to warrant the Story of the Ballad, 
 
 The old Record of the endowment of this Hermitage by the Percy Family, which the Editor has printed 
 at the end of his Poem, is a curiosity very singular in its kind. When I perused it, I could not help smiling 
 at the Article of the Trinity Draught of Fii/i, to be taken opposite to the Cliapel, whicli was to be the 
 Hermit's Perquisite every Sunday, It w as, I assure you, no contemptible Perquisite : for there is a very 
 rich Salmon-Fishery in this River belonging to the Duke and Duchess of Northumberland ; and I was told, 
 that at one single draught this Summer, more than Three Hundred fish had been taken opposite to the 
 Hermitage *. 
 
 I shall conclude my long, tedious Description, with a Stanza from Spenser; which, if you will pardon 
 a few alterations, will give you a pretty exact Picture of the place. 
 
 " A little lonely Hermitage there stood 
 
 " Down in a Dale, hard by a River's side, 
 " Beneath a mossy Cliff, o'erhung with Wood, 
 
 " And in the living Rock, there close beside, 
 
 " A holy Chapel, entering we descried; 
 " Wherein the Hermit duly wont to say 
 
 " His lonely jirayers, each moni and even tide: 
 " Thereby the crystal stream did gently play, 
 " Whicli through the woody Vale came rolling down alway." 
 
 • I have been assured that more than Four Hundred 6sh, chiefly Salmon, Salmon-T routs, and Gilts, have been taken at 
 one Draught between the Hermitage and the Sea, which is about two miles distant. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 Printed by T. DAVISON, 
 
 Whitefriars.
 
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