"*«•'*■ %is „ . 
 
 A 

 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES 

 
 '' /< ,^f l V'?*'. t r r/ 9 —X ^> 
 
 / 
 
 
 V>„A,„S-SS** 
 
 +- ' W^
 
 DE WYRHALE: 
 
 A 
 
 Z>b\z of Dean jforeet.
 
 DE WYRHALE 
 
 Cale of Dean jForeat. 
 
 IN FIVE CANTOS. 
 
 By P. J. DUCAREL, Esq. 
 
 AUTHOR OF "A PARAPHRASE ON THE PSALMS," IN BLANK VERSE. 
 
 In Newland Church-yard. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 LONGMAN, REES, ORME, BROWN, GREEN, AND LONGMAN. 
 
 1836.
 
 LONDON : 
 
 PRINTED By manning and SMITMSON, 
 
 IV V I.ANF, paternoster-row.
 
 4 2-1 
 
 3 841i. 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 The family of De Wyrhale is descended from Matthew, 
 High Sheriff of the County of Gloucester, in 1259. It 
 enjoyed high privileges and immunities in the Royal Forest 
 of Dean. This is ascertained from an ancient manuscript, 
 now in the possession of a descendant of the family still 
 resident within the precincts of the forest. The same MS. 
 goes on to say, " it is a circumstance somewhat particular, 
 that we have not any one deed or paper extant in which the 
 name of Jenkyn is to be found, nor any in which any one 
 of this family surname is mentioned for as much as thirty- 
 three years previous to the time assigned for his death, the 
 last being a deed in 1436, from Staunton to J ohn Wyrhale, 
 his predecessor. We cannot, therefore, help believing that 
 all the papers and deeds, which belong to our little history, 
 have, by some accident, passed into other hands and been 
 lost. It is probable, that when Jenkyn died, he was not an 
 old man; for in 1467 we find a John Wyrhale, the suc- 
 cessor of Jenkyn, &c. A tomb in Newland churchyard, 
 
 77542?
 
 VI PREFACE. 
 
 which is in the limit of the ancient forest, has a man cut in 
 stone upon it, lying on his back at his length, having a lion 
 under his head for a pillow, and a hound at his feet. Iron 
 points are leaded in round the figure, and the inscription 
 which is on the two sides under the cornice, is as follows : 
 
 " Here lyeth Jenk. Wyral : 
 
 God have mercy on us. 
 
 MDLXVI1." 
 
 Mr. Atkins, in his " History of Gloucestershire," de- 
 ciphers the characters to be as follows : 
 
 " Here lyeth Jenkyn Wyral, chief forester in fee, 
 A braver fellow never was, nor never will there be." 
 
 An ancient monument, with a male and female figure cut 
 in free-stone, occupies one side of a chapel, or chantry, in 
 Newland church, in memory of Sir John Joyce and his 
 dame ; and a tradition is handed down, that a Joyce lived 
 in a small religious house, or hermit's cell, in the vicinity of 
 the village. The foundations of the house still exist, but 
 the moat was filled up only ten years ago — it may be yet 
 easily traced. The family of the Joyces were anciently in 
 possession of Clear well, or Clurewall, in the same parish 
 of Newland.
 
 DE WYRHALE 
 
 Canto i.
 
 For whylome he had heen a doughty Knight 
 
 As any one that lived in his daies, 
 And proved oft in many perillous fight, 
 
 Of which he grace and glory wonne alwaies, 
 And in all hattles wore away the baies ; 
 But being now attacht with timely age, 
 
 And weary of the world's unquiet waies, 
 He took himself unto this hermitage, 
 
 In which he lived alone like carelesse bird in eagre. 
 
 Spenser. Canto iv.
 
 ERRATA. 
 
 Canto I. Beneath the embellishment, page 1 , instead of 'The Oak' 
 read ' The Newland Oak, girth 41 feet.' 
 For ' upborn' read ' upborne,' page 13, line 7. 
 Canto III. For ' Beware' read ' Be 'ware, page 106, line 2. 
 
 Omission in the notes. Stanza xcii. : — 
 
 Scowles, a local term for many rocky and rugged spaces, 
 scattered throughout the forest of Dean, supposed to 
 be the relics of imperfect mining in high antiquity, 
 where the surface of the ground is left full of deep 
 pits, and excavations, producing a picturesque effect 
 which is most striking, the result of the bold features 
 presented by rough lime-stone masses standing erect 
 in every attitude ; the intervals are now shaded and 
 adorned with the yew and holly and much wild 
 vegetation.
 
 THE OAK. 
 
 There was a day of strife in History's page 
 Deep noted, and its dark detail of crime ; 
 
 Brother with brother then learn'd war to wage 
 Ev'n to the death in this our gentle clime ; 
 
 Parent, and child in arms, with fiendlike rage 
 For rugged onslaught met at that fell time ; 
 
 It was an age of horror, and the stain, 
 
 Whilst England yet survives shall yet remain.
 
 DE WYRHALE. 
 II. 
 
 But thence I seek my theme ; and will resort, 
 
 "Where, crimes amidst, shall virtue blaze more clear, 
 
 Embellish'd with sweet lore, in that report 
 
 The Muse pours forth to win the listening ear : 
 
 So graced with flowers from Fancy's fairy court, 
 That even Lucilla may not dread to hear 
 
 When Inspiration ranges fair to view, 
 
 And robes the deeds of eld with her warm hue. 
 
 III. 
 
 Oh ! 't was an awful hour for Albion's weal, 
 When the Red rose, and rival White arrayed 
 
 Her hosts for slaughter, and to hateful steel 
 High mettled knight by kindred ties unstayed, 
 
 Unchecked by keen remorse, made fierce appeal, 
 
 And couched the lance, and brandished the sharp blade. 
 
 Ye, who despise not dulcet song, survey 
 
 The scene with me, come listen to my lay.
 
 DE WYRHALE. 3 
 
 IV. 
 
 Dire was the clang of arms ; each rival King- 
 Sent forth his myriads, where the battle fray 
 
 Was fierce and sharp, and War with his full swing 
 Of carnage held his unrelenting sway ; 
 
 And shout was heard of hosts re-echoing, 
 
 And glancing steel flashed back the bright sun-ray 
 
 The gorged earth steamed hot with the recent flood 
 
 Shed bv her children, of her children's blood. 
 
 For Glory called, and Honour, laurel wreathed, 
 Greedy of high report, — and youthful eyes 
 
 Ardent with Hope, that o'er the bosom breathed 
 Contempt of death, strained at the high emprize ; 
 
 And grasping hand the sword for death unsheathed, 
 And bade heaped high the pile of slaughter rise, 
 
 Where thousands rushed to swell the page of story, 
 
 The crimsoned page of honour and of glory.
 
 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Oh honour ! — what is honour ? glory what ? 
 
 Twin phantoms, aye pursued with murderous skill — 
 Marring of peaceful souls the feehler lot, 
 
 Urging alas ! to ravage, rend, and kill, 
 With demon rage to senseless fury wrought, 
 
 And spurn Compassion's touch, and Pity's thrill. 
 Man wades to fame through hlood ; the unreasoning beast 
 Bounds on his prey that he may gorge a feast, 
 
 VII. 
 
 That he may stain the paws, which nature first 
 Taught him to tinge with purple gore, and thrive 
 
 On carnage ; that, as instinct prompts, his thirst 
 He slake in blood ; that he may quaff and live. 
 
 But sated, he is disarmed : in sleep immersed, 
 His slumbers to the weak a respite give. 
 
 Such is not glory's pretext, honour's plea — 
 
 Twin idols, worshipped of humanity.
 
 DK WYRHALE. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 With dazzled eyes by fair and specious charm 
 
 Of fascination undefined, see led 
 From fond parental care to deathful harm 
 
 The youth, o'er whom a thousand tears are shed 
 The long and watchful night : nerved is his arm 
 
 For foul remorseless slaughter far bespread 
 Where rival monarchs strive, whose angry mood 
 Shall be appeased alone in rival blood. 
 
 IX. 
 
 And heedless of the heart-consuming pang 
 That tender mothers feel, or the pure arms 
 
 Of sisters, who with fond endearment hang 
 Upon his neck with tears, War's loud alarms, 
 
 Keen weapon-glare, and soul inspiring clang 
 Fire all his fancy with a thousand charms ; 
 
 His bosom pants, his heart throbs quick, his eye 
 
 Is fixed where Fame has reared her fane on high.
 
 G DE WYRHALE. 
 
 X. 
 
 Ah ! cursed was He, dire origin of strife, 
 
 Who, awful hour ! first armed, and raised his hand 
 
 With envy fired to madness 'gainst the life 
 
 Of his own fellow ! Hence the rancorous brand 
 
 Hath fleshed its vengeance, and with murders rife 
 And ruthless, deep empurpled all the land — 
 
 Alas that laurel wreaths alone should bloom 
 
 Where myriads rush to glut the greedy tomb ! 
 
 XI. 
 
 Cease here thy wandering, Muse— for thou the tale 
 Must now recount of fair-haired Rosabelle, 
 
 And in sad strains her mournful lot unveil, 
 And what herself and her true Knight befel : 
 
 And if that heart their hapless fate bewail, 
 And that dear bosom with a soft sigh swell, 
 
 Whose sympathy and loved applause I seek, 
 
 And a bright drop of pity dew her cheek,
 
 1)E WYRHALE. 
 
 XII. 
 
 I ask no more. — "f is the sweet balmy hour 
 Of waking nature ; the light vapour creeps 
 
 Along the mountain's side, which a soft shower 
 Of dew late sprinkled, such as cold Night weeps, 
 
 When no dull clouds in the clear welkin lower, 
 And solemnly her sober state she keeps 
 
 And silently ; twilight, day's harbinger, 
 
 Hath bid her speed her noiseless wheels afar. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 For lo ! each luminous gem hath, one by one, 
 In heaven's wide concave lost, retired from sight. 
 
 Warned by the faint red streak that eastward shone 
 And of their glory robbed, as, dazzling bright, 
 
 Their sovereign lord prepares his course to run, 
 And robe the hemisphere with warmth and light. 
 
 Ah ! wonder ye, if erst in worship bowed 
 
 Mankind entic'd hath kissed the hand, and vowed,
 
 8 DE WY1MIALE. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 And reared an altar, as the boundless blaze 
 
 Of that uprising first his eye surveyed, 
 Ere Revelation's high and hallowed rays 
 
 Her far more glorious torch from high displayed ? 
 If yon effulgence, hymned in strains of praise, 
 
 The Sabian in God's attributes arrayed 
 And with rich offerings decked the golden fane, 
 Whence gods innumerous their impious reign 
 
 XV. 
 
 Spread far and wide ? See all around the scene 
 
 Is forest vast, umbrageous ; mighty oak 
 And beech point heavenward, and of soberest green 
 
 And shade, dark yew, which the stout woodman's stroke 
 Almost defies ; there heard, but oft unseen 
 
 Pours the rough torrent, or the rippling brook ; 
 And there, amid the woodland, to the glade 
 With fern and mingled heather wildly clad,
 
 DE WYRHALE. 9 
 
 XVI. 
 
 From the close covert creeping, oft the deer, 
 Timorous and fleet of foot, would safely stray ; 
 
 And high and haught the stately stag uprear 
 His branching antlers, gaily tossed in play ; 
 
 Or ruminating lend attentive ear 
 
 To every sound that Zephyr's wings convey, 
 
 Fearing th' insidious bolt of lurking foe, — 
 
 But death decreed were he should deal the blow 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Should do him scathe — sole prey of royal sport : — 
 For when no more the combat's rude alarms 
 
 To the red field of hot contention court, 
 
 For lack of stirring strife and deathful harms, 
 
 In mimic warfare here oft made resort 
 
 Fair England's kings equipped with sylvan arms; 
 
 In woodcraft skilled they chased of flight and fear 
 
 The dappled slaves, or roused the boar with spear,
 
 10 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Or tracked the wolf ferocious, who with care 
 By nature taught, her secret den within 
 
 Provides her couch of moss, deposing there 
 Her helpless young, secluded from the keen 
 
 And pitiless hunter, and the treacherous glare 
 
 Of daylight,, whom she rears, and schools unseen ; 
 
 Till their fierce lesson conned, to seek their food, 
 
 She sends them forth for rapine ripe, and blood. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 But now these tracts of varied hill and dale, 
 
 Mountain and mighty rock, had long been found 
 
 For beasts a still retreat, nor swelled the gale 
 
 The horn, and full-tongued bay of the dread hound 
 
 For civil jars the mourning land assail, 
 
 And sighs and groans alone are heard around ; 
 
 And Britain's sons at loftier quarry strain 
 
 In steel arrayed — their prey alas! is Man. —
 
 DE WYRHALE. 11 
 
 XX. 
 
 Hah ! who is he, that form of hoary eld, 
 
 Crept from within yon grot of moss-clad stone 
 
 From curious eyes secluded, and concealed 
 With yew, and with the holly overgrown ? 
 
 Long has he bowed his head and suppliant kneeled 
 With tearful eye and penitential groan, 
 
 Before the rugged Cross his pious care 
 
 Hath rudely framed, and hallowed, and placed there. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 Nature hath formed his temple ; far extend 
 The chestnut's branches o'er him, and afford 
 
 O'ershadowing voute high arched, and darkly lend 
 A sober dignity where heaven's high lord 
 
 May deign to dwell, and pilgrims lowly bend, 
 Who come to list that holy hermit's word, 
 
 Fraught with Devotion's pure and hallowed flame, 
 
 And seek for peace in Jesu's sacred name.
 
 12 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 • XXII. 
 
 Hark ! as the good man prays, a rustling near 
 Precedes th' approach of footfall — see, oh see, 
 
 He heeds it not, he hath not sense to hear, 
 Or will to rise from his yet bended knee ; — 
 
 His thought is fled beyond this humbler sphere. 
 A sylphid form is standing silently 
 
 Behind the prostrate suppliant, and her look 
 
 Is upwards cast, as she that prayer partook. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 And in her eye a liquid crystal glows, 
 
 Pure as the spring from whence its gems drew birth ; 
 Which with succession quick of pearls o'erflows, 
 
 Bright as Morn's tears, which spangle the green earth ; 
 Whilst fair to view her every feature shews 
 
 A meek display of gentleness and worth, 
 And with harmonious tone and fervent strain, 
 Her opening lips breathe sweetly forth, Amen.
 
 DE WYRHALE. 13 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 It is a lovely sight that face to see, 
 
 It is a boon conferred that voice to hear ; 
 
 Calm as o'erhead the heaven's blue canopy, 
 
 Sweet as the ascending lark, when skies are clear, 
 
 Pours forth her notes of grateful melody 
 Upon the silence of the listening sphere, 
 
 As far on high upon her wing upborn, 
 
 She pays the tribute of her praise at morn. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 The prayer is o'er, the well known voice is heard, 
 The man of God arising hastes to meet 
 
 His beauteous visitant with gentle word 
 
 And smile benignant : — " Seek'st thou this retreat, 
 
 Fair Rosabelle, e'er yet the wakeful bird 
 
 (God's mother guard thee!) hath aroused to greet 
 
 The day's first streak across the welkin borne — 
 
 Say for what cause thou bravest the briar, and thorn
 
 14 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 "Tliick in the pathway strew'd of this wild maze 
 Of forest vast ? Lady, thou dost forget 
 
 How rapine is abroad, — for these are days 
 When lawless violence, and hate are met 
 
 In foul alliance ; cruel discord preys 
 
 On thy dear country's vitals. Thus beset 
 
 With dangers, darest thou think their angry wrath 
 
 Shall light not on thy heaven-protected path ?" 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 " Father, be Holy Virgin still my shield," 
 Saith Rosabelle, " whate'er my fate betide, — 
 
 But learn, De Wyrhale's force hath to the field 
 For Lancaster — an escort, and safe guide, 
 
 By faithful zeal, and loyal heart impelled, 
 
 His care to guard my footsteps here supplied, 
 
 Which halts the covert near, nor dared invade 
 
 Thy habitation's venerable shade.
 
 DE WYRHALE. 15 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 " Dire news alas ! upon my lips I bear, 
 
 For ah ! the sword hath now resumed its work, 
 
 Hath doubly tinged the rose of Lancaster, 
 
 And crimsoned deep the pale-bleached leaves of York. — 
 
 Ready occasion hastes to minister 
 
 To guilty appetence, and demons lurk, 
 
 Urging with felon will the friend, the foe 
 
 To mutual scathe, so gain reward the blow. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 " De Wyrhale here directs his course, for he 
 
 Hath warned me, that our dauntless Queen her might 
 
 Conducts to Severn's bank. — I see, I see 
 
 Ev'n now the infrequent gleam of armour bright, 
 
 From which the sun-beam glancing cheerily 
 Flashes a welcome ray upon my sight ; — 
 
 'T is he ! De Wyrhale ! 'tis mine own true knight, 
 
 That through the green- wood wings his ardent flight."
 
 1G DE WYRHALE. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 Now lost in wood, now faintly glimpsed through shade 
 At distance, still approaching fleet, behold 
 
 An horseman all in glittering arms arrayed, 
 That fearfully of troublous season told ; 
 
 And scarcely now the tramp the breeze conveyed, 
 But well of gallant Knight the gesture bold 
 
 Keen eye may mark ; and louder now the ground 
 
 Yields to the listening ear the cheering sound. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 And lo ! a comely page is seen behind 
 
 Urging with effort strong his panting steed ; 
 
 Through mazy bowers and leafy paths they wind, 
 This flies and that close follows with like speed, 
 
 And ardently with strenuous act and mind 
 Attends his track, who doth the race precede : 
 
 Now are they hid from Rosabelle's keen gaze, 
 
 And now their course a partial glade betrays,
 
 DK WYRHALE. 17 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 And now within the woodland scene all lost, 
 Downward they drop into the dark ravine, 
 
 And now with winged speed the brook have crossed, 
 That rolls the valley's well decked sides between, 
 
 'Midst rocks and crags in wild confusion tost, 
 And freshly robed with spring-tide's livery green. 
 
 'T is love that spurs them onwards, ardent love 
 
 The clew that guides them through the trackless grove. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 And hark ! the breathing of each panting horse, — 
 And hark ! the trampling of their steely hoof, — 
 
 And they have upwards sped their rapid course, 
 Those generous steeds of staunchest metal proof, 
 
 Through the strong thorn and briar, and tangled gorse, 
 And soon that courteous knight hath bounded off 
 
 From saddle-bow with front revealed ; 't is he, 
 
 De Wyrhale's self, that drops upon his knee. 
 
 c
 
 18 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 XXXIV, 
 
 His youthful Page extends his arm to catch 
 His courser's rein, as well befits the squire, 
 
 And lead him quickly thence with due dispatch 
 Where duteous haste directs him to retire, 
 
 And from intrusion rude keep wary watch, 
 As laws of gentle chivalry require, 
 
 And of the Knight enjoined, who hastes to greet 
 
 His Lady-love low bending at her feet. 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 Now hath he ta'en her tremulous hand, and pressed 
 With lip devout, and laid it on his heart, 
 
 That faithful heart which throbbed within his breast, 
 As fain from its imprisoning hold to start. 
 
 Beneath the quickened heavings of her vest 
 Her panting bosom played responsive part ; 
 
 And many a lucid gem on his bowed head, 
 
 Soft as the dews of summer eve, she shed.
 
 DE WVRHALE. I l J 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 Blessed moment of keen ecstasy, brief dream 
 Of pure unsullied rapture, sweet repose 
 
 Of hearts close knit, yet quivering in the extreme 
 Of deep delight, soft balm of many woes, 
 
 Ah, as the meteor's momentary gleam, 
 
 Which sudden o'er the night a radiance throws, 
 
 Too swiftly gone ! tongue may not dare express 
 
 The charm of that impassioned, fond caress. 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 But when, set free, that utterance found a vent, — 
 
 "Ah Rosabelle, dear lady-love," he said, 
 " Hast hither fearlessly thy footsteps bent, 
 
 Despite the terrors of the untravelled shade- 
 To thine own Knight ? God's Mother surely lent 
 
 Thee nerve unwont, and faithful love kind aid. 
 Art come with thy soft voice my soul to cheer, 
 And bid its sweet tones charm thy true love's ear !" 
 
 c2
 
 •20 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 Then Rosabelle ; " O thou my bosom's lord, 
 Thy lady-love though weal or woe betide, 
 
 Sustained of thee, nor fears the plunderer's sword, 
 Nor greenwood dense by frequent foot untried, 
 
 Though murder, crimson anarch, roam abhorred, — 
 So she be near her own preux Knight's dear side." 
 
 l)e Wyrhale smiled ; then turned a courteous ear 
 
 As spake the Friar, who stood the Lady near. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 " Holy St. Francis shed rich blessings on thee 
 Thou goodly Knight," spake he of orders gray, 
 
 " Hath other cause than this loved object won thee 
 From armour-clang and discord's dire array ? 
 
 For me, devote to God, 't were meet to shun thee, 
 Who shinest in steel, and hie to prayers away, 
 
 But O ! the love I bear thee weaves a spell 
 
 That near thee holds me still, and Rosabelle."
 
 DE WYRHALE. 21 
 
 XL. 
 
 How looked that lady, as on his hoar hrow 
 Beamed the soft rays of either lucid eye ! 
 
 Even as in tranquil night on the wreathed snow, 
 A spotless mantle robing earth, from high 
 
 All lovely to behold, with tremulous glow 
 
 The beauteous moon looks from a cloudless sky. 
 
 Now do they bend, and at his feet bowed low, 
 
 Meekly they kneel, as forth his accents flow : 
 
 XLI. 
 
 " Bless thee my son, bless thee, oh daughter dear ! 
 
 Receive my benison" — (eye, hand upcast, 
 So spake the senior) — "spotless Virgin bear, 
 
 Lest scattered on the bosom of the blast, 
 Be lost, ere yet it reach the throne, my prayer. — 
 
 Be their life's labours light, and quickly passed ; 
 Guard them all Saints approved in life, in death 
 Who sit enthroned, and wear the martyr's wreath."
 
 22 BE WYRHALE. 
 
 XLII. 
 
 A moment's pause there followed, — awe inspired, 
 
 They wait in solemn thought, and crossed the breast, 
 
 Whence heavenwards bent a heartfelt prayer aspired, 
 Meekly preferred as he with fervour blessed, 
 
 And yet the glow of holy office fired 
 
 The good man's brow ; but soon again deprest 
 
 Towards earth and his own griefs, a feebler gleam 
 
 His eye shot forth, and its dull flame burnt dim. 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 Then Rosabelle 'gan speak, and her mild tongue 
 With anxious music of her Knight besought, 
 
 As on his neck with slender arm she hung, 
 
 Of brave De Joyes the tidings he has brought; 
 
 Straight at the name a sudden paleness sprung 
 O'er all his features, as if keenly wrought 
 
 With strong emotions he would fain repel, 
 
 Not unperceived of gentle Rosabelle.
 
 DE WYRHALE. 23 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 " Say, quickly say DeWyrhale, hath my sire 
 
 Resigned to gracious heaven, the life heaven gave ? 
 
 Hath his Creator deigned again require 
 
 That precious soul a Saviour died to save ? 
 
 Ah Theofred of gentle mercy crave 
 
 He be assoiled : thy prayer may soothe the fire . 
 
 Of purgatorial pangs — Mother of God, 
 
 Hush him to rest where angels make abode !" 
 
 XLV. 
 
 " De Joyes still bravely wields his fearless brand, 
 Loved Rosabelle !" her anxious Knight exclaimed — 
 
 " But ah ! its dazzling sheen is basely stained, 
 For pure and spotless fealty once famed ; 
 
 The rose of Lancaster his recreant hand 
 
 Hath dashed to earth, and his high lineage shamed ; 
 
 His banner floats for hostile York displayed, 
 
 By traitorous Clarence prompted, and bewrayed.
 
 24 DE WYHHALE. 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 " Ah, gentlest ! lay thy head upon my breast — 
 So sinks, when summer's reign is past and o'er, 
 
 Beneath chill autumn's keener breath opprest 
 
 The hare- bell's cup, and death is in the shower : — 
 
 O ! in this faithful bosom find thy rest, 
 
 Though angry hail the darksome welkin pour ; 
 
 Beshrew mine hasty tongue which pained thee so, 
 
 And scared thine ear with the sharp note of woe." 
 
 XLVII. 
 
 But he who seemed of late with age opprest 
 Stood all erect, and raised a dauntless eye, 
 
 That shot unwonted beam — his panting breast 
 
 Heaved quick, and laboured with a deep-drawn sigh 
 
 Expressive of his inmost soul's unrest ; 
 
 He clasped and raised his hand in the agony 
 
 And transport of brief passion — but full soon 
 
 He reined its fervour, and the storm was gone.
 
 DE WYRHALE. 25 
 
 XLVIII. 
 
 Then calm and motionless he stood short space, 
 And piously his reverend bosom crossed 
 
 Swept by his beard's full flow ; his deep lined face 
 Sank lowly, and in secret prayer all lost 
 
 His lip moved quick — his beads were dropped apace, 
 Of that brief wrath the penitential cost ; 
 
 And every bead he told, his shrunken eye 
 
 With a full stream of sorrow shed reply. 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 Then spake he — " Hush my heart, although De Joyes, 
 Right preux and loyal erst, be lost, forsworn! 
 
 It must not be that I upraise my voice 
 
 But o'er mine own dark crime for ever mourn, 
 
 Whom penitential grief the day employs 
 
 And sleepless night, aye sorrowing, aye forlorn — 
 
 De Joyes ! — alas ! with fairer hope in store 
 
 One father blessed us, and one mother bore.
 
 26 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 " But who when treachery is rife dare wonder, 
 Who when infectious treason roams abroad, 
 
 When hell's dark demons wrap the land in thunder, 
 Whelming the nations 'neath the wrath of God, 
 
 Attesting all this fair creation under 
 
 Of heaven to anger roused the avenging rod, 
 
 That honour is no more, and gentle worth 
 
 And loyalty are fled afar from earth ! 
 
 LI. 
 
 " De Joyes — and is it thus ? — and thou the same 
 In field well fought, St. Alban's blood-red day, 
 
 In Henry's cause with bosom all a flame, 
 
 Who for the Red Rose madest thy first essay 
 
 Of mortal combat, when of deathless name 
 Clifford of loyal heart was treason's prey, 
 
 In the rude shock where first the roses met, 
 
 Fatal alas to princely Somerset ?
 
 DE WYRHALE. 27 
 
 LII. 
 
 " Oh ! in that deathful hour when sword and spear, 
 And bossy buckler nought availed to save 
 
 Northumberland, on honour's purpled bier 
 
 Stretched out, his last cold couch ; where faint, and pale 
 
 With wounds made feeble effort still to rear 
 
 Proud Buckingham, in vain, his trenchant steel, 
 
 There fought De Joyes, whilst myriads fled dismayed 
 
 And boundless slaughter fleshed his maiden blade. 
 
 LIII. 
 
 " There panic blanched the rose of Lancaster 
 Withering her recreant hosts with dire affright, 
 
 Confused they fled, unmanned, distraught with fear, 
 Fled from their leaders : each abandoned knight 
 
 Unequal contest waged, griped sword and spear 
 Ghastly and grim, of numbers in despite, 
 
 Till faint with wounds on glory's crimson bed 
 
 He lay amidst the dying and the dead.
 
 28 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 LIV. 
 
 " Ah, day of awful horror ! day to me 
 
 Of endless mourning ; — hopeless, lost despair !" — 
 He spake, and racked appeared with agony 
 
 Of woe more keen, more deep, more vast than e'er 
 Drew tears in scalding streams from misery's eye, 
 
 Or ever stamped the ravelled brow of care ; 
 And such sad course of groans and sorrow kept, 
 That Rosabelle for very pity wept. 
 
 LV. 
 
 With hearts of gentle mould, and minds imbued 
 In that sweet lore of heavenly Jesu taught 
 
 By his blest Spirit softened and subdued, 
 Where an unfeeling world hath entered not, 
 
 To Christian love and pity won and wooed, — 
 Sorrowing is most infectious — the bare thought 
 
 Of human woe is painful, and in the eye, 
 
 Quick springs the ready drop of sympathy.
 
 DE WYRHALE. 29 
 
 LVI. 
 
 Sweet source divine in human life's brief span, 
 Of all the better motives which fast bind 
 
 In social fellowship mankind to man ; 
 
 Delicious balm of broken hearts, enshrined 
 
 In the Creator's breast ere life began, 
 
 Of Heaven itself impressed in mortal mind ! — 
 
 'T was mercy, and by force alone from thence, 
 
 The hardest heart can chase its influence. 
 
 LVII. 
 
 Nor did the youthful knight who listening stood, 
 All iron encased, from piteous tears refrain ; 
 
 Albeit he strove to check the rising flood, 
 With manly bearing he assumed in vain ; 
 
 Nature had framed him in her gentle mood, 
 
 Stern Duty armed him for the ensanguined plain, 
 
 To win dire trophies from the deadly blow, 
 
 That deals around unutterable woe.
 
 30 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 LVIII. 
 
 There was a pause of silence, which prevailing, 
 Respectful of the indulgence of his keen 
 
 And sacred sorrow in deep sighs exhaling, 
 
 Allayed the storm the good man's breast within, 
 
 And lo, was heard a long-drawn note of wailing 
 From the dense foliage of the thicket green, 
 
 A plaintive note, yet soothing, sorting well 
 
 With griefs that in the woeworn bosom dwell ! 
 
 L1X. 
 
 It was the nightingale the leaves among, 
 That far around prepared upon the breeze 
 
 To pour her wild varieties of song, 
 
 By Nature taught her sweetest melodies ; 
 
 She struck a key of tenderness, not long, 
 Nor loud, as she had aimed to please 
 
 A secret sorrow, and its quivering thrill, 
 
 A space upon the listener's ear struck shrill.
 
 DE WYRHALE. 31 
 
 LX. 
 
 But Rosabelle, the pure celestial blue 
 
 Of her mild eyes upraising; " Holy Father," 
 
 Exclaimed, as heavenwards she their glances threw, 
 " Is their no balm in Gilead found ? or rather 
 
 Is there no fruit of sweetest hope in view 
 
 Reserved for sainted souls like thine to gather ? 
 
 Are penitential groans, and grief and pain : 
 
 Hair cloth, and bloody stripe, alas ! but vain ? 
 
 LXI. 
 
 " The grief that gnaws the heart is a sore ill, 
 Cankering the soul, in the close bosom pent : — 
 
 Ah, Suicide ! that wouldst thine own life steal 
 By cruel inches, give thy sorrow vent, 
 
 And let my tongue thine anguish hope to heal ; 
 Why hug thy never-dying punishment, 
 
 Although thy breaking heart's unfit to bear, 
 
 Unburst the rack and torture which dwells there 1
 
 32 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 LXII. 
 
 " Say, have not I alas ! a burthen hard 
 
 To bear — a father whose fierce enmity 
 To him I truly love, Heaven knows, has marred 
 
 My hope of goodly fortune ? Ah ! for thee, 
 De Wyrhale, whose fond heart with mine hath shared 
 
 The sorrow, should perchance revealed it be, 
 The secret tie which links our common fate, 
 Avert it Heaven ! — T tremble at his hate. 
 
 LXIII. 
 
 "Whence Theofred thy brow of harrowing care? 
 
 Whence the fierce pang that racks thee, still more sharp 
 Than the rude thongs which lacerate and tear 
 
 Thy bleeding flesh 1 — what sting armed passions warp 
 Thy mind, and stamp thy features with despair, 
 
 That ever thus thy plaintive accents harp 
 On the harsh string of anguish ? oh, thy tongue 
 Dealing in self-reproach, but doth thee wrong.
 
 UE WYRHALE. 33 
 
 LXIV. 
 
 " The weeping heavens pour not in torrents down 
 
 Unceasingly, nor vex the harassed main, 
 Eternal tempests, nor its snowy crown, 
 
 On Snowdon's brow perpetual frosts enchain, 
 Nor alway mourn the woods the winter's frown 
 
 That strews their plundered honours o'er the plain- 
 Each in its turn the horir of evil knows, 
 And gladdening greets its moments of repose. 
 
 LXV. 
 
 " Thy lip, for others aye hath precious balm, 
 With Eden's fragrance redolent in store, 
 
 To lull to rest the sharp and sickly qualm 
 Of conscience, when its fever wrings the poor 
 
 In spirit, and diffuse a holy nalm 
 
 O'er breaking hearts and bid them swell no more ;- 
 
 And find'st thou no resource shall cause to cease 
 
 The woe that preys within thee, and bring peace ?" 
 
 D
 
 34 DE WYRHALK. 
 
 LXVI. 
 
 She ceased : — Who has not marked in spring the cloud, 
 Which over-head presents impending threat 
 
 Of rainy wrath, and yet, though heard not loud, 
 The zephyr breathing warm with noon-day heat, 
 
 Smooths the fair heaven of late so darkly browed, 
 And bids afar its angry frowns retreat — 
 
 And skies again upon the gazer's view, 
 
 Their broad expanse shew forth serenely blue. 
 
 LXVII. 
 
 So passed the cloud o'er aged Theofrid, 
 
 Such soothing spell was in those accents mild ; 
 He loved the gentle voice that charmed and chid; — 
 
 Again his breast is calmed, his heart beguiled 
 With tenderness, his secret sorrow hid 
 
 Beneath a smoother front ; — he faintly smiled, 
 As curbing with strong rein his soul's unrest, 
 He thus the Lady Rosabelle addrest.
 
 DK WYRHALK. 35 
 
 LXVIII. 
 
 " Lady ! mine ear to strains is all unused 
 
 Of friendly consolation, and the tongue 
 Of kind remonstrance ; — here remote, and loosed 
 
 From every earthly tie, my bosom wrung 
 With withering woe, like yonder trunk heaven bruised, 
 
 Leafless and desolate, — the world I've flung 
 With all its fallacies afar — for I 
 Have largely drained the cup of misery. 
 
 LXIX. 
 
 " And ah ! this feeble frame with ceaseless sorrows, 
 Help me, St. Francis ! fate hath so distraught, 
 
 And heart-consuming grief, of eld that borrows 
 Its wrinkles, to life's close so near hath brought, 
 
 Whilst each day's cares but harbinger to-morrow's, 
 That death is in my view with prayer long sought. 
 
 Asylum blest ! oh, I shall hie me there, 
 
 Glad as the bird, escaped the fowler's snare. 
 
 d 2
 
 36 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 LXX. 
 
 " Earth hath no city where the slayer may flee, 
 Far from the rack of conscience, and the goad ; 
 
 Ramoth or Gholan is there none for me, 
 
 Where of my crime I might depose the load, 
 
 And rid me of the pangs of memory — 
 
 There is no hope whilst earth is my abode : 
 
 Oh ! vain are years consumed in groans and sighs — 
 
 Hair-shirt and sackcloth, lash and streaming eves. 
 
 LXXI. 
 
 " Lady ! I told thee of St. Alban's day — 
 
 Would heaven 't were blotted from the crimson page 
 
 Of History ! when fear, and pale dismay, 
 And flight o'erwhelmed us, and the rage 
 
 Of rebel York prevailed, and Henry's sway 
 First tottered, awful prelude of an age 
 
 Of endless horror ! and revenge and death 
 
 Stalked forth, God's awful ministers of wrath.
 
 DE WYRHALE. 37 
 
 LXXII. 
 
 "'T was mine to wrap me round that day in steel — 
 'T was mine to brandish the cross-hilted blade, 
 
 Though feeble now, this arm, and frail to deal 
 The death-stroke it appear, its part it pla 
 
 Fast by De Joyes for mutual scathe or weal, 
 As his, De Joyes', strong in each other's aid; 
 
 With emulative fire each bosom swelling, 
 
 And each from each the foeman's stroke repelling. 
 
 LXXIII. 
 
 " At length exhausted nature sank beneath 
 His efforts, and De Joyes retreated slow, 
 
 Oppressed by numbers ; — for the work of death 
 His tired arm ceased to labour — briny flow 
 
 Of toilsome sweat bedewed his limbs — for breath 
 He pants ; whilst with fresh force renewed, the foe 
 
 Bursts, like the torrent's rush that sweeps the mead — 
 
 I fly to rescue, — zeal accursed ! — dire speed !
 
 38 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 LXXIV. 
 
 " For there was one in gallant armour dight, 
 
 With casque plume shaded, and with lance in rest, 
 
 With shield embossed, and scrowled, and dazzling bright, 
 For mortal joust, his deadly aim addrest. 
 
 Swift to the mel^e sped that vigorous knight, 
 Fresh for the combat sprang he forth, and prest 
 
 His shrinking courser's side with spur-armed heel, 
 
 That bounds excited by the maddening steel. 
 
 LXXV. 
 
 "The encounter, it was mine — he raised — alas! 
 
 His eye, that knight, to catch a wary glance — 
 His vizor, barred in vain, received the passe — 
 
 And failed to ward the woe — the death-fraught lance 
 Erred not— just heaven ! it marred — it marred that face ! 
 
 Still, still I mourn the hell-devised mischance — 
 Ah ! Rosabelle — the horrid deed was done — 
 It was my son — oh agony! — my son."
 
 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 Canto ii.
 
 His beard was white as snow- 
 He is gone, he is gone, 
 And we cast away moan, 
 
 Gramercy on his soul. 
 
 Hamlet
 
 </<>/ 
 
 CI.UREWEI.L CIIOSS. 
 
 Soft as the dews which rose at heaven's command, 
 When our first parents roamed in Eden's bowers, 
 
 And shed their balm and blessing o'er the land, 
 And nurtured into life its fruits and flowers, 
 
 Teeming with influence benign and bland, 
 
 Ere fleecy clouds had yet dissolved in showers; 
 
 So soft when Nature felt her earliest throe, 
 
 Parental love diffused its fostering glow.
 
 42 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 II. 
 
 Parental love ! pure principle enshrined, 
 
 Ere worlds were framed, or the sublime abode 
 
 Of holy angels in the Almighty mind 
 Ineffably benevolent of God ! 
 
 Affection's purest source — indulgent, kind, 
 Creation's nurse, delicious balm bestowed 
 
 On sentient being — all that breathe, that move, 
 
 Enjoy, disport, are thine, Parental Love ! 
 
 III. 
 
 A Father's care our life protects from harm, 
 A Father's care the daily food supplies ; 
 
 Beneath his care the fruitful Earth grows warm, 
 And genial blessings fall from bounteous skies 
 
 Oh ! 'tis parental Love's all powerful arm 
 Upholds this globe and cheers, and vivifies. 
 
 Delightful thought ! a Father's love we share, 
 
 We live, ah, sheltered 'neath a Father's care.
 
 DE WYRHALE. 43 
 
 IV. 
 
 Parental love ! soft sentiment instilled, 
 
 What time man's form was fashioned of earth's clay 
 With limb and feature, and his nostril thrilled 
 
 With life, and he unclosed his eyes on day, 
 And a short space his Maker's will fulfilled ! — 
 
 Bright spark of purest radiance, thy ray 
 Gives being nurture all that breathe, that move, 
 Earth, air, and sea own thee, parental Love ! 
 
 V. 
 
 Who, that hath o'er the cradle breathed a vow 
 
 With all the tremor of a mother's fears ; 
 Who, that hath hung with a care-ravelled brow 
 
 And woe-worn look, like that a father wears 
 O'er his sick infant ; and hath felt the flow 
 
 Of tenderness bedew his cheeks with tears, 
 Oh, for a world's possession would repress 
 A sigh o'er this poor hermit's sore distress !
 
 44 
 
 DE WY11HALE. 
 
 VI. 
 
 One son had Theofrid, the pledge of love, 
 Of chaste and early love — the life she gave 
 
 Did death, alas ! to her that bare him prove ; 
 Grief in his broken heart, as o'er her grave 
 
 The father bowed, with love parental strove, 
 
 As o'er vexed waters wind contends with wave : 
 
 The gentler influence brought at length relief, 
 
 And Nature triumphed in the strife o'er grief. 
 
 VII. 
 
 And lo ! the father's watchful care, and zeal 
 The tender scion nurtured and matured, 
 
 And reared to manhood, and impressed the seal 
 Of virtue in his bosom, and allured, 
 
 With pure religious precept fraught, to kneel 
 Low at the cross where Jesu once endured 
 
 A mortal pang, and taught in arms to wield 
 
 Accomplished Christian Knight, the lance, the shield,
 
 DE WYRHALE. 45 
 
 VIII. 
 
 And fain devote to God had sent to wage 
 The warfare of the faithful in that land 
 
 Where marched the warriors of a high-wrought age 
 Beneath the red-cross banner, and the brand 
 
 High waved in triumph, as with pious rage 
 Religion in the breast of Valour fanned 
 
 The o'ermastering flame ; where erst in holy war 
 
 The Crescent waned, and the keen scymetar 
 
 IX. 
 
 In shivers fell ; where yet the harrowing name 
 Of Lion-hearted Richard rung on the ear 
 
 A note of ominous import ; aye with shame 
 Rousing the wrath of Moslem sires, with fear 
 
 Paling each tremulous mother's cheek : — but fame, 
 Of preux and princely York loud harbinger, 
 
 Had won him to the white rose. Such was he, 
 
 As bright in stripling promise as the tree
 
 46 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 X. 
 
 With skill but newly budded ; cruel fate 
 Dealt by his sire upon the gory plain 
 
 Stretched him a corse ! Who shall the tale relate 
 And pour not quick the ungovernable rain 
 
 From sorrow's eye fast welled, disconsolate ? 
 
 Where is the balm may soothe that father's pain, 
 
 Or quell his bosom's storm, or pause of woe 
 
 Afford, whilst yet he pace this earth below ? 
 
 XI. 
 
 O ! marshal in array the direst throes 
 
 That ever rent and racked the human heart ; 
 
 Where shall ye find in the black list of woes 
 From sorrow's store a more embittered dart, 
 
 Keen as the freezing north infect with snows, 
 Than that envenomed agony and smart 
 
 Shall wound the parent's breast whose error wild, 
 
 And frantic hand hath slain his only child P
 
 DE WYRHALE. 47 
 
 XII. 
 
 Time was when He, whom man in vain essays 
 
 To fathom, or his counsel comprehend, 
 Ev'n from amidst his glory's boundless blaze 
 
 In mercy deigned to man's perception bend ; — 
 Then heard the patriarch's ear with awe, amaze, 
 
 And holy fear, a voice from high descend, 
 As heard in Haran's land, its heaven-born strain, 
 And at Beersheba's spring, and Mamre's plain : — 
 
 XIII. 
 
 It bade the sire away to Moriah's hill 
 
 Speed quick, erect God's altar, heap the wood, 
 
 Grasp in his hand the consecrated steel 
 
 Of sacrifice, and straight the precious blood 
 
 Of his own offspring at that altar spill ! — 
 Oh confidence of heart to heaven subdued ! 
 
 Oh utmost triumph of transcendant faith ! — 
 
 The sire obeyed, and led the son to death.
 
 48 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 To him alone whose glance conld note the pang 
 Deep in the close recesses of his heart, 
 
 Was known the bitter agony that sprang 
 
 That heart within, its conflict and its smart. — 
 
 Then sorrow reached ev'n heaven, and loudly rang 
 A prayer for mercy, while the priestly part 
 
 Fulfilling, the keen knife the father reared ; — 
 
 But hark ! the voice that stay'd his hand was heard ! 
 
 XV. 
 
 Yet He, whose mercy checked th' impending blow 
 Pitying the father's grief, who spared the son, 
 
 Spared not his great paternal heart — ah no — 
 
 But gave to death — for whom ? for man His own ! 
 
 Praise inexhaust flow fast, oh ! ever flow, — 
 
 Let Earth's loud shout proclaim the victory won 
 
 O'er death discomfited, o'er sin subdued, 
 
 O'er the fiend's malice quenched in Jesu's blood.
 
 DE WYRHALE. 49 
 
 XVI. 
 
 When hapless Theofrid's sad tale was told, 
 Trembling he turned away, retiring slow, 
 
 Where gloom-involved is hid his dreary hold 
 'Neath yews impervious to the noontide glow, 
 
 Umbrageous dwelling, comfortless and cold ; 
 And bent in grief upon the damp floor low 
 
 His aged knee, and wrestling with despair, 
 
 He sought the solace of unwearied prayer. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Awhile the Knight and gentle Lady kept 
 
 Respectful silence, in deep anguish drowned ; 
 
 O'er all their frame a tremulous horror crept, 
 Nor yet a vent in words their sorrow found 
 
 Till woe dissolved in tear-drops, and they wept 
 O'er Theofrid's immedicable wound : 
 
 At length the Knight from his tired brows unbraced 
 
 His bacinet, and on the green-swerde placed 
 
 E
 
 50 DR WYRHALE. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Careless beside him, and his forehead bared 
 
 To the sweet breeze that sweetly 'gan to blow ; 
 
 And Rosabelle with tenderest care prepared 
 From his moist cheek to chase the briny woe ; 
 
 And he the griefs her gentle bosom shared 
 
 Soothed with his lip as their bright crystals flow ;- 
 
 For soon upsprang to view their own dark fate 
 
 Pictured in gloom, as sad they meditate, 
 
 XIX. 
 
 And silent 'midst the woodland : — his young brow 
 Was strewed with comely curls of raven jet, 
 
 And on his blooming face was down enow 
 His upper lip to shade, though scanty yet : 
 
 His dark-brown eyes which beamed a softened glow, 
 Whene'er with hers their vivid glances met, 
 
 Were turned to Rosabelle. Upon the ground, 
 
 Beneath an oak with ivy straightly wound,
 
 DE WYRHALE. 51 
 
 XX. 
 
 They sate, upon a swelling bank of heather, 
 By the dwarf whortle varied, and strewed o'er 
 
 With moss and woodland flowerets, where together 
 Soft sorrows from their brimful eyes they pour, 
 
 Bright as the drops that gem in spring-tide weather 
 
 The snowy petals of some new-born flower. 
 De Wyrhale heaved a sigh e'er yet he brake 
 
 The painful silence, and with fervour spake. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 "Ah Rosabelle ! how sore these days of blood 
 By sire and son in mutual slaughter shed, 
 
 When demons roam abroad, and scowling brood 
 O'er hapless Albion, and her fields dye red ! — 
 
 What arm shall stay war's desolating flood, 
 
 Since 'scaped from thrall vindictive Edward fled ? 
 
 Said I not, gentlest, thine own sire betrayed 
 
 The red-rose cause, and waved a traitorous blade 
 
 e 2
 
 52 
 
 DE WYRHALK. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 " For York in Barnet's luckless fight ? where He 
 
 Illustrious Warwick, he who thrones bestowed— 
 Warwick, proud boast of England's chivalry ! 
 
 Like the scathed oak his stately crownet bowed 
 Eternal shame shall blast thy memory, 
 
 False to thy vow, thy Lady, and thy God, 
 Disloyal Clarence ! — sad and fearful doom 
 For thee is yet prepared in time's dark womb. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 "Ah ! woe 's the day when captive Edward brake 
 His chains and fled beyond the dark blue sea ; 
 
 Back to our shores his deep revenge to slake 
 Burgundia's Duke in arms dismissed him free, 
 
 Once more for England's crown, a glorious stake, 
 Even to the death to strive right valiantly. 
 
 Again Rebellion rears her horrid hand, 
 
 And civil discord desolates the land,
 
 DE WYRHALE. 53 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 " As shall thy well drenched fields, oh Barnet ! vouch 
 To endless time in history's tablet graven ; 
 
 Where nought availed or ruth, or gentle touch 
 Of pity, or the fear of angry heaven ! — 
 
 There did the tear fast flow, and bent knee crouch 
 In vain to stay the sword ; from earth far driven 
 
 Mercy to heaven upflew, whilst rose the cry 
 
 Warwick or Edward, Death or Victory, 
 
 XXV. 
 
 " To yon blue vault above, and call'd aloud 
 
 For the prompt bolt launched from the indignant sky 
 
 On that tremendous day, when murder strode 
 Bloated with devilish hate, and reared on high 
 
 His blood-red banner o'er the maddening crowd. 
 Afoot they met, with sword and dirk to ply 
 
 Their horrid task ; Fiends from the realms beneath 
 
 Hovered around, glutting their eyes with death. —
 
 54 F>E WYRHALE. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 " Blind error ruled the destiny of war 
 
 That luckless day — for lo ! York's beaming sun, 
 
 And brave De Vere alas ! thy glowing star 
 Midst the thronged strife with treacherous semblance shone, 
 
 So Lancaster poured death on Lancaster, 
 
 And for his foe the wreath of victory won. — 
 
 Oh ! evermore the day shall Albion rue 
 
 When Warwick's proud Earl fell, when Montague. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 " 'T was in that fatal hour thy father turned, 
 
 Ay in that hour, my Rosabelle, away 
 From Lancaster his royal liege ; nor burned 
 
 With the red glow of shame that shameless day ; 
 Nor wept for noble Warwick slain, nor mourned 
 
 For gentle Montague ! whilst o'er the fray 
 Triumphant discord raged, and friend and foe 
 With moonstruck, madness dealt the frantic blow
 
 DE WYRHALE. 55 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 " Of slaughter indiscriminate — deep gloom 
 Of pitchy darkness veiled that hour the sun, 
 
 As in high Heaven was registered the doom 
 
 Of gasping thousands whose brief race was run : 
 
 Ripe years, and sanguine youth in the fair bloom 
 Of hope, who dreamed in vain of laurels won. — 
 
 There fought I for the life, and sorely drained 
 
 My country's veins, and these my hands deep stained — 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 " Nay shrink not from me, Rosabelle, though dyed 
 They be, perforce, in blood — could tears remove 
 
 The dark red blot, these eyes had streams supplied, 
 Ah ! ceaseless as the brook ; — 't is mine to prove 
 
 The love I bear the red-rose and the bride, 
 For me this scarf whose fairy fingers wove, 
 
 In reeking trophy decked, ere worthy thee, 
 
 And murmur not, though mourn the fates' decree."
 
 56 
 
 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 In sweet reply a softer tone was heard, — 
 
 " De Wyrhale ! though this faint heart quail with fear, 
 As feeble woman's must to list the word 
 
 Thine utterance yields, which tells of dangers near 
 The precious life before her own preferred ; 
 
 I would not bid thee check thy brave career 
 Where duty points the path, and recreant prove 
 To Lancaster, and me thy Lady Love. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 " For well I weet, thy nobleness would scorn 
 To pay thine homage fair at lady's shrine, 
 
 Save only hers on honour's base upborne, 
 Proud of her fame, awarder just of thine. 
 
 Heroic virtue must her breast adorn 
 To whom thy lofty valour would assign 
 
 That station high, a throne within thine heart ; 
 
 Thy Lady Love must well perform her part.
 
 DE WYRHALE. 57 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 " Oh ! were it mine to deck thee for the field, 
 Such field as hostile France once sorely wept, 
 
 A harvest of rich trophies forced to yield, 
 
 Which England's sword and Harry Monmouth reaped! 
 
 How were this breast against the tremors steeled, 
 In this thy warfare that full oft have crept 
 
 O'er all my frame, and chilled it, in despite 
 
 Of loyalty, and courage vanquished quite ! 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 "Would heaven 't were those blessed times, to graceful joust 
 And sportive combat forth, as minstrels tell, 
 
 When gallant knights decked out, o'er bloodless dust, 
 Marched to the lists at the loud trumpets' swell ; 
 
 And lance in mimic war dealt harmless thrust, 
 
 And beamy sword unstained, flashed high, and fell, 
 
 And gentle dames unscared looked on the while, 
 
 And the wreathed victor earned fair lady's smile.
 
 58 HE WYRHA1.E. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 " But woe is me, since first the light of heaven 
 Beamed on these eyes, the ruthless fiend of war 
 
 Around me hath a race unwearied driven, — 
 No joyous pageant greets my eye, my ear, 
 
 But merciless death, flashing a fiery levin, 
 
 Whirls the red wheels of his flame-hurnished car;- 
 
 No tourney gay, nor joust where joyous move 
 
 High minded valour, and triumphant love, 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 "But scenes that sicken the faint soul, alas ! 
 
 With dire reality." — Here spake the knight : 
 " Hush, hush thee Rosabelle ; by the holy mass, 
 
 Thy tears that flow unman me ; the bare sight 
 Is torture, and this torn heart bleeds apace, 
 
 This faithful heart to witness thy sad plight. 
 Ah ! rather by thy love, thy lore inspire 
 Thine own true knight to do his high devoir.
 
 Dli WYHHALE. 59 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 " Fair plant, ah ! sprung in an unfitting hour 
 For thy transcendant gentleness ! — the blast 
 
 Of winter keenly toothed hath chilled thy flower, 
 And its young bloom with cold and cloud o'ercast ; 
 
 God's Mother grant thee shelter from the shower, 
 Till all its bitterness away be passed : 
 
 My Rosabelle ! yon golden sun may shine 
 
 Propitious yet, and halycon days be thine." 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 Hark, hark ! a shout upon their ear which broke — 
 A cpuick reply — defiance hurl'd — the clang 
 
 Of angry weaponry, and the shrill stroke 
 
 Of smiting steel that through the greenwood rang ! 
 
 Sir Jenkyn heard, and cast an anxious look 
 On her he loved, and on his feet upsprang ; 
 
 Whilst on his unarmed head again with haste 
 
 Her fairy hands the bacinet quick replaced.
 
 60 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 And all afoot he rushed where led the sound, 
 Nor long time sought that object he pursued ; 
 
 But dealing blow for blow a pair he found 
 Contending fierce, and all athirst for blood ; 
 
 An armed and stripling pair ; — fearless of wound, 
 And reckless of their stern and angry mood, 
 
 He sprang at once their glittering swords between, 
 
 And chid their wanton wrath, and stilled the scene. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 " Osric forbear — I charge thee cease, and sheathe 
 Thy weapon, boy ! see'st thou the rose he wears 
 
 Is Lancaster's ? what ! dealest thou deadly scathe 
 (Is he a foe that goodly rose who wears ?) 
 
 On one who sweats an iron weight beneath 
 
 For Lancaster ? on one whose bold arm shares 
 
 Our glory, and our toil ? and Edwin say, 
 
 Whence this unlooked turmoil, and angry fray ?"
 
 DE WY It HALE. 01 
 
 XL. 
 
 " Nay, rather ask that fiery youth," replied 
 
 Brave Edwin — "for he bared his keen-edged sword, 
 
 And here my progress to yon grove denied ; 
 Nor, by the holy rood, vouchsafed a word 
 
 Of parley, but to combat straight defied: 
 Rashly he laid on load, nor I deferred 
 
 Rejoinder, for. his young arm dealt a blow 
 
 That marks him well, I wot, no feeble foe." 
 
 XLI. 
 
 " I had straight charge of thee, Sir Knight, to guard/' 
 So Osric spake, as he his sword encased, 
 
 " Yon pass, and here have kept strict watch and ward, 
 Lest prying eye, or w r andering footstep traced 
 
 Thee to the grove ; — hence I his progress barred, 
 Who hitherward, I know not wherefore, paced ; 
 
 But for the red rose sake," pursued the youth, 
 
 " I tender him my palm in faith and troth."
 
 Gt2 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 XLII. 
 
 " Rather thy friend than foeman," Edwin said, 
 
 Smiling, and straightway grasped the proffered hand. 
 
 " Sir knight I came, where these tall oaks o'ershade 
 And 'fend the hermit's grot, by straight command ; 
 
 With me of woodmen armed these mazes tread, 
 By stout Fitzharding sent a chosen band, 
 
 An escort meet for the Lady Rosabelle — 
 
 I paced my round to note if all were well ; 
 
 XLIIT. 
 
 " And had I breathed a blast from this good horn, 
 The silent woods eftsoon had bravely rung 
 
 With shout of those, who now, concealed by thorn 
 And fern await, their ready yews well strung, 
 
 Lest its awakening voice to muster warn, 
 And to the rescue call with brazen tongue. 
 
 So anxious for my charge, as duty bade, 
 
 I traced each secret haunt of grove and glade.
 
 DK WYRHALR. G3 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 " When yonder watch-dog fiercely crossed my path." — 
 " Brave youths, and worthy of the rose ye bear, 
 
 Of the bold banner ye shall march beneath, 
 
 With those that wield the sword for Lancaster," 
 
 De Wyrhale cried : " ye are friends, restrain your wrath, 
 Till ye are opposed to York rude stroke defer. — 
 
 Now learn ; in lowly guise from fair Clurewell, 
 
 A pilgrim, lo ! the Lady Rosabelle 
 
 XLV. 
 
 " Is to the saintly friar for counsel fled 
 
 In these sore, troublous times : brave Edwin thou 
 
 From lisping years to toil and danger bred, 
 
 And Osric young and brave, attend me now. — 
 
 Ere long, 1 ween, your prowess must be weighed 
 With York, — till then unknit the furrowed brow. 
 
 The Queen hath marched for Gloster's wall, nor far 
 
 Removed is he, the Traitor Prince — the war
 
 64 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 " He seeks in fortune confident ; for she 
 As the wild breezes fickle, ever shifting, 
 
 Now here, now there conferring victory, 
 
 And against hope her wayward banner lifting, 
 
 Breeding despair, of late where cheerily 
 
 The voice of triumph on the gale was drifting, 
 
 Hath won him England's crown since the loud jar 
 
 Of his fierce onset foiled the rampant Bear." 
 
 XLVI I. 
 
 He spake and led the way ; close following near 
 
 The youths his footsteps like twin mastiffs guard- 
 So moved escorted Ithaca's young heir, 
 
 Twin hounds attendant on his state, prepared 
 And prompt to obey, faithful and proud to share 
 
 Caress indulgent, and from ill to ward 
 Their princely master, whilst the treacherous brood 
 Of wanton suitors the chaste Queen pursued —
 
 UK WYRHALE. 65 
 
 XL VIII. 
 
 Nor feared the lion's wrath whom o'er the wave 
 Dire hate of Gods vindictive sorely vexed — 
 
 Rash mortals ! deeming that the oblivious grave 
 Had o'er him closed, and madly vain pretext 
 
 Of love objecting dared his wrath to brave, 
 Whom Circe and Ogygian wiles perplext. — 
 
 And now De Wyrhale reached with haste-urged feet, 
 
 Where Rosabelle sat near the still retreat 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 Of Theofrid — her head was on her hand reclined, 
 Tremulous she seemed amid the sylvan scene 
 
 Listening each sound, intent ; for breezy wind 
 Breathed not, the face of heaven was all serene, 
 
 Blue as her beauteous eye, though sore her mind 
 The occasion ruffled. Through the leafy screen 
 
 De Wyrhale pierced, and led his youthful train 
 
 And hushed her heart's alarm, and soothed its pain, 
 
 i'
 
 60 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 L. 
 
 As thus he spake — " Oh thou, in these mine eyes 
 Than ought of earthly excellence more fair — 
 
 Smile thou, as when at eve-fall mists arise, 
 The beauteous moon silvers the dewy air, 
 
 And at the sight the chilling vapour flies, — 
 
 Smile thou, and from thy brow dismiss thy care, 
 
 And from thy bosom chase thy heart's alarm ; 
 
 These in our cause upraise their vigorous arm, 
 
 LT. 
 
 " And wear the blushing rose : no need for fear 
 Whilst these keep watch — it was a goodly sight, 
 
 To note the struggle of their causeless jar, 
 
 Ere that my voice had power to allay the fight ; 
 
 See you my youthful squire who for the war 
 
 Hath heart on flame ? if that thou readest aright 
 
 The generous glances of his kindling eye, 
 
 They flash the fires of truth and loyalty.
 
 DK WYRHALE. G7 
 
 LII. 
 
 " Come hither boy ! thine ear is well attuned 
 
 To the warm strains these lips are prone to breathe, 
 
 In her high praise, who round my heart is wound 
 As the ivy clasps yon elm with climbing wreath ; 
 
 And oft when my wrapt spirit hath communed 
 
 With my own thoughts, and seemed oppressed beneath 
 
 Deep sleep, thine eye hath marked this bosom's swell, 
 
 Whose quick loud throb but spake of Rosabelle. — 
 
 LIU. 
 
 " Oh bend a favouring look on this my Page — 
 
 By one unknown first proffered to my care 
 Stretched sorely struck, when ceased the battle's rage 
 
 On Banbury field, as gasping he lay there, 
 Uttering faint words ere he did quit life's stage. — 
 
 Oh 't is a noble youth as I may dare 
 . Avouch, for I have trial of his worth ! 
 Somewhat he whispered of a noble birth, 
 
 f 2
 
 08 DR WYRHAT/T. 
 
 LIV. 
 
 " That dying man, as ebbing life was failing ; — 
 
 But sounds he breathed not forth which might display 
 
 All his soul's mystery, or prove availing 
 To this dull ear his secret to betray. 
 
 So there are moments when the youth bewailing 
 The sad mischance, doth grieve and pine away 
 
 With moping sorrow, which he strives to hide 
 
 Full oft in vain, and 1 am prone to chide. 
 
 LV. 
 
 " But thy persuasive tongue hath ample power 
 
 To waken high attempt, and nobly stir 
 That fire within which nature in large store, 
 
 Inspiring generous impulse, did confer, 
 When first she framed him ; and in glorious hour 
 
 Upon his heel his Prince may fix the spur, 
 And of his secret birth his sword the shame, 
 Eclipse with the broad shadow of fair fame."
 
 DE WYRHALE. 69 
 
 LVI. 
 
 Oh then a glance, from her soft eye bestowed, 
 Upon the youth that blooming Lady threw ; 
 
 And his young cheek in sweetest union shewed 
 Its blended tints of yet a manlier hue, 
 
 As on her face he gazed the while, which glowed 
 With either rose enchanting fair to view ; — 
 
 Ah me that flowers so bright a summer's-day 
 
 But scent the breeze, and straight are waft away ! 
 
 LVII. 
 
 " Lady," he said and courteously bent low 
 
 Fixed on the ground his knee ; — " the man I thought 
 
 My sire, till, Jesu save him, the rude blow 
 Of deadly weapon his destruction wrought, 
 
 Reared me the toil of war to undergo, 
 
 To point the lance, to wield the keen sword taught, 
 
 To leap the trench, scour in pursuit the field, 
 
 And with unwearied arm uplift the shield.
 
 70 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 LVIII. 
 
 " And I can rule with dextrous art the steed, 
 And mould his generous ardour to my mind ; 
 
 Soothe his high mettle, or provoke to speed, 
 With heel and hand to serve my purpose wind : 
 
 And I of chevisaunce full many a deed 
 
 Have practised straightly, for all other kind 
 
 But martial toil within me bred disgust ; — 
 
 1 love to address the lance for graceful joust. 
 
 LIX. 
 
 £< Oh ! this is youthful babbling : pardon one, 
 Lady, who midst the wide and humble range 
 
 Of beings moves unknowing and unknown ; 
 
 To the world's objects, and its honours strange, 
 
 For me, an orphan child, high hopes are flown ; 
 My lowly lot can promise me no change — 
 
 Devote to him I serve, my only stay, 
 
 I follow where Sir Jenkyn leads the way.
 
 DE WYRHALE. 71 
 
 LX. 
 
 " I prize his high example, and will wend 
 
 Through life and life's vicissitudes with him ; 
 
 His aid and counsel if he freely lend, 
 
 And health be mine, and strength of practised limb ; 
 
 And if that weapon reach him, which forfend 
 Just Heaven ! or plenished, overflow the brim, 
 
 Misfortune's bitter cup — may then his care 
 
 Be mine, or I the weightier portion share." 
 
 LXI. 
 
 "Oh! shame thee, youth!" cried Rosabelle, "be sure 
 Thy Lady-love will thank thee not, should fame, 
 
 A busy quean is she, convey unto her 
 Thy saying, for I doubt not gentle dame 
 
 Or maiden fair doth claim thee par amours, 
 And to thy loyalty assert strict claim ; 
 
 Go thou, and duteous train thee in her school, 
 
 To live and die beneath her gentle rule.
 
 72 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 LXII. 
 
 "Thou shakest thy head! what seek not one should love thee? 
 
 Knowest thou not courteous knight is heauty's slave ? 
 Her lips must lend thee lore, her precepts move thee 
 
 To virtuous daring, as befits the brave ; 
 Chuse quickly, quickly youth, thy love, and prove thee 
 
 Worthy of that applause the noblest crave, 
 The smile of beauty, as the rugged road 
 They traverse of renown at beauty's nod. 
 
 LXIII. 
 
 ' Doth not high deed of gallant chevisaunce, 
 Though rank were not, to lady's love lay claim ? 
 
 Sure goodly sword and well directed lance 
 Will earn the meed of an undying name. 
 
 Hast thou not eyes of hers to read the glance, 
 Thy mistress' eyes, and heart to feel their flame ? 
 
 Feet at her will to bound, and dauntless arm, 
 
 Strength and obedience prompt, and courage warm?" —
 
 DE WYRHALE. 70 
 
 LXIV. 
 
 "Ah, lady ! beauteous as thy lips are wise," 
 The youth while sighing deeply thus rejoined: 
 
 "This bosom is not cold, nor dimmed these eyes, 
 Nor hard this heart, nor obdurate, nor blind ; 
 
 Yet have I striven to fly love's tender ties, 
 A stripling wight unfettered, unconfmed, 
 
 Till, graced with wreaths well earned, I breathe a vow 
 
 At beauty's feet, nor fear a scornful brow. 
 
 LXV. 
 
 " Then suffer still, that I with heed pursue 
 De Wyrhale's track, — for lady art not thou 
 
 The dame whose smile he hath alone in view, 
 Decked with thy scarf, obedient to his vow ? 
 
 As he to thine, I to his service true, 
 
 Precept and bright example have enow." — 
 
 The fair one smiled, and o'er her features played 
 
 Sweet approbation of the words he said.
 
 74 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 LXVI. 
 
 But as he spake the deepening clouds grew dark, 
 Black vapour interposed obscured the ray 
 
 Of the late bright and glowing sun, and hark ! 
 Unfrequent big round drops of waters play 
 
 On the dense foliage, and large humid mark 
 Impress where'er the dry ground meets the day 
 
 Unshrouded by the plant ; rare spots, I ween, 
 
 In the vast precinct of majestic Dean. 
 
 LXVII. 
 
 Silent and still, and stagnant the dull air 
 Is heavy on the breathing — motionless 
 
 Is the green leaf which quivering lately there, 
 Whispered as soothingly as sweet caress 
 
 Heard in the secret hour by the won ear 
 Of love-sick maiden — fears unwont oppress 
 
 The excited spirit, that looks upwards still 
 
 To the suspended threat of coming ill.
 
 I)E WYRHALE. 75 
 
 LXVIII. 
 
 A sudden flash ! — behold each hand of snow 
 
 Is on the eye of trembling Rosabelle, 
 As with their slender fence to shield her brow 
 
 She strove, and from the vivid glare to veil 
 In vain ; awful a pause succeeds — and now, 
 
 A solemn peal, a deep earth shaking swell, 
 Of sound long drawn along the vaulted heaven, 
 Above, below, around, by echoes driven. 
 
 LXIX. 
 
 Bright crystals, sharp and weighty, all unmeet 
 For gentle female, rude and massive hail, 
 
 Already through the broad oak's shelter beat 
 Uncourteously, and beauty 'gan assail. 
 
 Dissonant, afar resounding greet 
 
 Her ear the scared birds' screams upon the gale ; — 
 
 Harsh ravens bode of elemental fray, 
 
 And herds to covert speed in wild dismay.
 
 76 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 LXX. 
 
 Forth sprung De Wyrhale ; in his arms with haste 
 The lady dear upborne, that courteous knight 
 
 Swift to the grot with hasty footsteps paced, 
 The holy hermit's grot — Love led aright 
 
 His rapid course, and cheered him as he raced, 
 And lighter rendered still his burthen light : 
 
 Grateful with joy he reached the lowly door, 
 
 Ere burst the full tide of the furious shower. 
 
 LXXI. 
 
 Whilst, following close, attend the youths behind, 
 Louder and louder roars the mingled din 
 
 Of fires aetherial, waters' rush, and wind 
 As they advance that rude abode within. 
 
 Beneath its gloomy roof they grope to find 
 The woe-worn victim of sharp discipline, 
 
 Whom stern St. Francis' rule had stationed there, 
 
 Till death to mourn, in penitence and prayer.
 
 DE WYRHALE. 77 
 
 LXXII. 
 
 Even now he praj's, or he appears to pray, 
 Haply the tempest's roar has closed his ear 
 
 On rude intrusion — lo ! a flickering ray 
 
 Of a dim lamp, whose breeze-blown glimmerings flare 
 
 In a dark opening, to their eyes betray 
 
 A cross, and Jesu's dying form hung there ; 
 
 The hermit's front is rested on the stone, 
 
 His body in devout prostration thrown, 
 
 LXXIII. 
 
 Arms wide extended, on the damp floor spread, 
 Of life appears no more the unblest abode : — 
 
 In vain a blaze of sudden brightness sped 
 
 Through the rock's rugged clefts — the spiritless clod 
 
 Stirred not — for ah the viewless spark was fled 
 Afar at the awful summons of its God ! — 
 
 Awe-struck in silent horror, and amaze, 
 
 A pallid groupe, they shudder — and they gaze ! —
 
 DE WYRHALE 
 
 Canto in.
 
 And he was clad in cote and bode of green, 
 A shefe of peacock arwes bright and keene 
 Under his belt he bare full thriftily, 
 Well coude he dresse his takel yewmanly ; 
 His arwes drouped not with fetheres low, 
 And in his hand he bare a mighty bow, 
 A not-hed hedde he, with broune visage 
 
 Of wood crafte conde he well all the usage. 
 
 ******* 
 
 ******* 
 A forester was he sotliely as I gesse. 
 
 Chaucer.
 
 GOODRICH CASTLE. 
 
 I. 
 
 Life, human life, brief moment passed and gone 
 Dreamlike, ere we attain the hope, that chears 
 
 The cheated eye, — that still still urges on 
 With expectation, amid doubts and fears 
 
 O'er credulous humanity ! — Anon 
 
 Come sickness, failing strength, and chilling years ;- 
 
 All feelingly persuade us that with woes 
 
 The cup to each apportioned aye o'erflows.
 
 82 
 
 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 II. 
 
 As the fleet arrow through the viewless wind, 
 When twangs the bended horn, or sounding steel 
 
 Wings to the point, nor leaves a trace behind ; 
 Or as green Ocean's bosom the swift keel 
 
 Deep furrows yet her wake no eye can find, 
 So rapidly 't is closed, no track reveal 
 
 Where with full snowy vans that ship hath sped ; — 
 
 So speed we to the mansions of the dead. 
 
 III. 
 
 How in the prospects fair of bright-eyed youth 
 
 Are gems, are gold strewed o'er the dazzling track ! 
 
 Greedy we grasp them — but full soon the truth 
 Is palpable : oh then the pain, the rack 
 
 Of bitter disappointment's rankling tooth 
 Eats to the core our happiness : — Alack 
 
 For woe ! mere phantoms ever we pursue, 
 
 Joys all unreal, hopes that prove untrue.
 
 DE WYRHALE. 83 
 
 IV. 
 
 Ah ! is there not beyond our life's brief bound 
 
 Some rich equivalent of bliss in store 
 For those, on earth whom fate hath hemmed around 
 
 With grief and sorrow, ever sad, and poor, 
 And ever thwarted ? who no balm have found 
 
 To cicatrize the wounds of fortune o'er ? — 
 Oh when at length this clay is left behind, 
 Whither, ah whither flies the immortal mind, 
 
 V. 
 
 The soul, the spirit, wont to fire and fill 
 And give life's heat and animate the clod, 
 
 Else dull and cold, impassible, of ill 
 And good unconscious ; a mere load 
 
 Of senseless, cumbrous earth, — no thought, no will, 
 With sense and feeling wholly unendowed ? 
 
 Ay, 'tis a cheerless prospect, the drear grave, 
 
 That well may daunt the bravest of the brave. — 
 
 g 2
 
 84 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 VI. 
 
 To leap from this sound earth, stable and sure 
 Beneath our feet, and plunge into the void 
 
 Huge ocean of infinitude, — of pure 
 
 Untravelled space — nor know how wide, 
 
 How high, how deep, the unmeted dread obscure 
 That shall receive us headlong, with nor guide 
 
 To lead, nor goal in view — decreed to run 
 
 A race where haply shines nor moon, nor sun 
 
 VII. 
 
 Beyond creation's limit ! awful doom ! 
 
 Too fearful for the long protracted theme 
 Of human contemplation : — the dark tomb 
 
 We all must fill, relieving with no gleam, 
 No ray to break its dense and dreary gloom ! — 
 
 What shall we close these eyes too fast to dream 
 Annihilate, and this short short space of woe 
 Be all unhappy man shall ever know,
 
 DR WYRHALE. 85 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Or wake, and live for ever ? — ever live ? — 
 Then where our habitation, where our rest ? 
 
 Who shall afford us welcome, who receive 
 
 With smile or frown, or gladdened, or deprest 1 
 
 Who the faint heart from painful fears relieve, 
 And light the load which weighs upon the breast, 
 
 When from this life dismissed, by some new birth 
 
 We reach we know not where, — but 't is not earth 1 
 
 IX. 
 
 The cross, the cross, fix there, fix there thine eyes 
 Affrighted man ! whence breaks a ray more bright 
 
 Than moon's or sun's — whence holy hopes arise 
 Shall lift thy soul in rapture to Heaven's sphere 
 
 With the glad prospect of undying joys, 
 Stedfast, assured, for Jesu's self is there; 
 
 At whose command the grave resigned her dead, — 
 
 Heard Lazarus not His mandate, and obeyed ? —
 
 86 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 X. 
 
 Heaven, vast idea ! notion undefined ! 
 
 What ! where ! material ! limited ! with bound 
 Uncircumscribed ! region of joy, where mind 
 
 Untrammelled, and unfettered roams around 
 Free, uncontrolled, where evil dare not bind 
 
 The unshackled will, nor error's maze confound ! 
 An endless day of bliss supreme secured 
 By life's brief hour of pain and grief endured ! 
 
 XI. 
 
 Come sorrow then, come woe, yea come what will 
 That hath for human heart envenomed sting ; 
 
 What though with evil store the cup ye fill ; 
 A little while and the freed soul shall wing 
 
 Waked from its earthly dream, triumphant still, 
 And far behind the sore remembrance fling. 
 
 But check thee wayward Muse ! and suit thy lay 
 
 To lowlier themes and speed to Dean away.
 
 DE WYRHALE. 87 
 
 XII. 
 
 The storm is hushed: across the welkin creep 
 The clouds with vapour mingled dull, and dead ; 
 
 And like the mourner's garb sad pomp they keep, 
 Of sable hue a sober mantle spread, 
 
 Awhile lugubrious ; — a tear-like drip 
 
 As stirs the leaf the weeping branches shed, 
 
 And many a lucid pearl on pointed thorns 
 
 Hangs tremulous, and spray and leaf adorns. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Wild flowers o'ercharged with moisture bend beneath 
 The oppressive load which fills their perfumed cup, 
 
 They seem depressed even to the verge of death, 
 And frailly, feebly languish, faint, and droop, 
 
 As doomed no more to feel the rallying breath 
 Of Zephyr, or again look gladly up 
 
 To the blest ray shot from the fount above 
 
 Once more, sweet emblem of the Father's love.
 
 88 OE WYItHALE. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 See yet where prostrate blue-bells strew the ground 
 
 And woodbines twine with parasitic tie 
 In vain each neighbouring stem for aid around ; 
 
 Anemones seem tumid like to the eye 
 Of blubbering infancy, all tarnished, drowned 
 
 In watery woe ; violets and pansies lie, 
 Unfit to bear their slight, and fragile form, 
 The rude, and ruffling play of wind and storm. 
 
 XV. 
 
 But soon again appears the blue serene 
 
 Of sun-lit heaven, with beams that quickly follow 
 
 Chearing each floweret, gilding the mantle green 
 Which clothes the mountain side and sheltered hollow, 
 
 Reviving all the shower bespangled scene. — ■ 
 In never ending circles wheels the swallow 
 
 Twittering again with joy — and from the spray 
 
 Again the redbreast pours his chearing lay,
 
 DE WYRHALE. 89 
 
 XVI. 
 
 The fond confiding redbreast his sweet note, 
 
 For ever grateful to the listening ear 
 Of Albion's sons ; he strains his tiny throat 
 
 Even to the utmost, and pours forth on the air 
 With dulcet music round the lowly cot 
 
 Of humble life, such soft and winning chear 
 The bosom o'er, such sweet diffusive charm, 
 That rudest hands are slow to do him harm. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Behold the hermit's lifeless relics crave 
 
 An active work laborious, the last rite 
 Of friendship. Edwin, Osric, and the brave 
 
 De Wyrhale, task unwont for stalwert knight, 
 Rend the tough sod, and scoop a shallow grave ; 
 
 Sword point, and groping hands, and hearts unite 
 In toil — with indefatigable care 
 So they the hermit's narrow home prepare.
 
 90 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 The grot they sought, and thence again they sped, 
 Few moments intervening, sad and slow ; 
 
 Silent and weeping, and with measured tread 
 Their burthen bearing to the grave they go ; 
 
 And Rosabelle the scant procession led 
 With tears and every token of deep woe, 
 
 Whilst by their hands the wasted corse is borne, 
 
 By vigil, fast, and lash and penance worn. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 They decently his meagre limbs compose 
 And lay him in the spot so newly traced, 
 
 And from the green trees torn fresh leafy boughs 
 Upon the dead, in hair-cloth wrapt, they placed. 
 
 And soon with wild moss decked a pile arose 
 Of stones collected, nor their labours ceased 
 
 Till grassy clods and heath above they spread, 
 
 And planted a rude cross where lay his head.
 
 DE WYItHALE. 9] 
 
 XX. 
 
 So are tby sorrows ended, such thy tomb 
 Oh Theofrid ! remote, obscure, liest thou 
 
 From every eye concealed ; a loftier doom 
 
 Fortune once promised thee, and bound thy brow 
 
 With honours in thy youth's first opening bloom ; 
 Fair flower of knighthood once — forgotten now — 
 
 Heaven's peace be on thee, who wast doomed to know 
 
 On earth unmixed, unmitigated woe ! — 
 
 XXI. 
 
 That hour were bitter tears profusely shed, 
 
 That hour was heaven in earnest prayer besought ; 
 
 Whilst all conspired to rend the heart, and led 
 To painful meditation and deep thought ; 
 
 All, all the flame of pure devotion bred, 
 The painful storm, the solitary spot, 
 
 Heaven's awful visitation, which that day 
 
 Quick snatched the life of Theofrid away. —
 
 92 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 " De Wyrhale," Rosabelle in mournful tone, 
 Expressive thus the mournful silence broke — 
 
 "Are there not deeds, nor sorrow shall atone 
 Nor self-inflicted pang ? What tears shall slake 
 
 The thirst of keen remorse, what ceaseless groan 
 Assuage the vengeance of the envenomed snake, 
 
 Which murders the heart's peace, when, odious strife ! 
 
 Kindred with kindred blood contend for life. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 " Read thou, oh read the solemn warning there — 
 Like the scathed oak by the fleet bolt of heaven 
 
 Once touched in anger, and whose branches bare, 
 No more its boast and pride, have never thriven 
 
 Since wounded in the heart ; so hath despair 
 With vulture beak sore fretted, and deep riven 
 
 Poor Theofrid ! De Wyrhale, shun the strife 
 
 Would point thy sword against De Joyes's life.
 
 DE WYRHALE. 93 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 " He is my sire, and though his heart be seared 
 Against thy suit, and fiercely burn his hate ; — 
 
 He is my sire — oh be the tie revered ! — 
 A mother's care I knew not, — a dark fate 
 
 Was hers ; — alas ! my youthful ear ne'er heard 
 The sad detail. — This morn Clurewell's high gate 
 
 Sent forth forlorn unhappy Rosabelle ; 
 
 She bade its proud embattled walls farewell, 
 
 XXV. 
 
 " There never to return, till he that gave 
 
 Me life shall pity me, and freely give 
 That, which than life more prized, my soul would have, 
 
 De Wyrhale dear ! for thee alone to live ;" — 
 (Here, like chaste light, reflected in the wave 
 
 From the warm western sky at summer eve 
 In Bala's liquid glass, her fair cheek shewed 
 A magic tint, so soft its light touch glowed,
 
 94 
 
 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 No tongue can tell its beauty, speak its charm !) 
 " I haste to holy Mary's sainted shrine 
 
 Vigornia near ; whilst that thy vigorous arm 
 Must weapon wield, and tarnish its fair shine 
 
 In England's blood ! even now my heart the alarm 
 Hath sounded, — I must hence— the bold design, 
 
 Edwin and his brave troop attend, whose care 
 
 These trembling limbs shall to my refuge bear. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 ' This pilgrim guise, the wayworn wanderer's plea 
 
 Shall prove, though reckless roam unbridled power ; 
 The white-robed sisterhood my safety be, 
 
 And sainted Mary shield in the trying hour. 
 Let not my fate assigned by Heaven's decree 
 
 Make prey thy life, or thy heart's peace devour, 
 For Edwin on occasion prompt and tried 
 
 Shall lead the way, with all good saints our guide."
 
 DE WYRHALE. 95 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 " Hear Rosabelle," the knight exclaimed, " my vow — 
 Hear, hear, oh Queen of Heaven ! on this my sword, 
 
 Mine own good sword straight pledged Maria thou !" — 
 And to his lip upraising at the word, 
 
 Graved with the name at which all creatures bow, 
 Its labelled cross-distinguished hilt, he poured 
 
 Such solemn phrase that they who stand around, 
 
 Mute with deep awe devoutly list the sound : 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 " By good St. George, — by all the saints shall reign 
 With earth's high king, — by thy loved self I swear — 
 
 The blood of bold De Joyes shall never stain 
 The steel to Rosabelle devote I wear ; 
 
 His hate, his pride, his scorn I will sustain 
 
 Unmoved, — nay shame for thy dear sake will bear 
 
 Than death more hateful, gentlest for thy love — 
 
 Bear witness angels in Heaven's courts above." —
 
 96 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 " But ah ! 't is distant to Vigornia's wall — 
 
 How sayest thou, Edwin ! hast thou wings to fly 
 
 From countless deaths, or worse, the captive's thrall 
 Dost think secure to reach the sanctuary ? 
 
 Now by the Mass, friends, foes, beware them all, 
 And doubt there's fraud in every object nigh ; — 
 
 Amidst the base world's false perfidious crew, 
 
 Darest thou alone be loyal, darest be true ?" 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 But as he spake, a woodman on the group 
 Brake hastily, a ready palfrey leading ; 
 
 " There 's danger," whispered he, " brave Edwin, up, 
 Up with thy charge ; my wary ear whilst threading 
 
 The forest maze hath notice of a troop 
 
 Unfriendly, in pursuit of spoil wide spreading — 
 
 Hark ye — ferocious Hewling roams the glade, 
 
 And with keen scent pursues his wonted trade.
 
 DE WYRHALE. 97 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 " Away, away, mount Lady, and thy guide 
 Shall faithful Wirgan prove ; my care a path 
 
 Shall point through secret maze yet undescried 
 By prying eyes, till that secured from scathe 
 
 We free the forest bounds, and Vaga's tide. 
 
 De Wyrhale speed thee — by the precious faith, 
 
 Thou dost uphold as true and Christian knight, 
 
 There is nor time for doubt, nor ought but flight. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 " Our woodsmen all or treachery or fear 
 
 Hath far dispersed, what time the plump-cheeked winds 
 And loud-tongued tempests rent ere while the air; 
 
 Alarmed they fled, amazed like timorous hinds : — 
 Beshrew me or the Demon rages here 
 
 Or magic influence sways these groves, and binds 
 With odious spell ; else hearts so stoutly braced 
 Had never quailed at howling storm and blast." 
 
 H
 
 98 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 Full soon was Rosabelle upraised, and placed 
 
 Upon her palfry by De Wyrhale led, 
 And through the briar and gorse as Wirgan paced, 
 
 The youths with caution due close following tread 
 Prepared for act : — and quick the depths they traced 
 
 Of the ravine obscure, — and now they thread 
 An upward course to all but him unknown 
 Who leads the march with noiseless gesture shewn. 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 And ever and anon a blast recurred 
 
 Of distant horn, which echo widely flung 
 
 From crag to crag, that waked the lonely bird 
 Of sober night from musing as it rung 
 
 Its startling summons ; whilst alert the herd 
 Of ever listening deer nimbly upsprung, 
 
 Darting around the quick revolving eye, 
 
 And ear, and prompt the rapid hoof to ply.
 
 DE WYRHALE. 99 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 Or suddenly from brake and thorny bush 
 The secret march alarming by their fear 
 
 Unharboured, needlessly aroused they rush, 
 And onward hold unchecked a wild career 
 
 Despite of tangled rods, and crackling brush, 
 
 And with projected nose their straight course steer. 
 
 Whilst listening,— around Rosabelle her band 
 
 With half-drawn sword well clenched a moment stand. 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 But soon again is heard the voice alone 
 Murmuring of many a new-born waterfall, 
 
 The children of the storm, where late was none, 
 Wearying the ear with their obtrusive brawl, 
 
 (As leap the waters o'er rough rock and stone,) 
 That caught at every sound might stir withal. — 
 
 The alarm allayed, once more the mazy wood 
 
 They pierced, and silently their way pursued, 
 
 H 2
 
 100 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 XXX VIII. 
 
 Till fainter on the breeze at each return, 
 For Zephyr 'gan to blow and clear above 
 
 The canopy of blue, the unfriendly horn 
 Died gradual, and from the entangled grove 
 
 A track they gain by frequent tramp more worn, 
 And with a blyther footstep forward move 
 
 O'er rocky fell and clift, whose woodclad brow 
 
 O'erlooked the wondrous scene that smiled below, 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 Where flowed with tranquil murmurs, through its bed 
 Poured forth in endless windings, Vaga's play 
 
 Of waters ever sinuous, far outspread 
 
 Like many mirrors 'neath the new-born ray 
 
 That pierced the cloud, propitious omen shed 
 As if to cheer the wanderers on their way. — 
 
 So famed Mseander, theme of ancient song, 
 
 Flowed smoothly Pbrygia's grassy meads among
 
 DE WYRHALE. 101 
 
 XL. 
 
 Ambiguously discursive ; in its course 
 
 Oft refluent seeming, oft to the ocean bending ; 
 
 Its tribute urged by a superior force 
 
 Oft checked, and stayed by windings never ending : 
 
 Amazed the traveller turns towards its source 
 Frequent, when in his buoyant bark descending 
 
 He holds his way, and on the glassy tide 
 
 Surveys the swan arrayed in beauty glide. 
 
 XLI. 
 
 Hence planned, 't is said, the inextricable maze 
 Of labyrinthine errors erst was wrought 
 
 By attic Daedalus in Crete's proud days, 
 (So rich in fancy sportive Naso taught) 
 
 From whence was no return. Its countless ways 
 Himself immured trod frequent, where hope brought 
 
 No solace till with matchless skill combined 
 
 On art-constructed wings he fanned the wind.
 
 102 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 XLII. 
 
 H ence too escaped of Ariadne loved 
 
 The youth, on whom her care bestowed the clew 
 Which in the trying hour his safety proved, 
 
 What time Pasiphae's monstrous child he slew — 
 Fables of heathen lore, that sweetly moved 
 
 Illustrious bards of olden times, and drew 
 From the rich fount of Helicon such strains 
 As ne'er may die whilst gentle heart remains. 
 
 XLI1I. 
 
 But as o'er Coldwell's rocky ridge they move 
 Of Rosabellc amidst the faithful few 
 
 The looks disquieted for ever rove, 
 
 Whilst from the giddy height a glance she threw 
 
 O'er many a sunny upland, with green grove 
 And glade adorned, and chequered in the view ; 
 
 Thy swells and falls with rich luxuriance stored, 
 
 Dotted with flocks and herds, fair Hereford.
 
 DE WYRHALE. 103 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 But her brave Knight with lore to lull the sting, 
 Whose venom prey'd upon her gentle heart, 
 
 (So bears the bird, though yet unscath'd her wing, 
 Rankling within the killing metal's smart), 
 
 Would point where giant hills their shadows fling, 
 And knolls, and valleys green with soothing art ; 
 
 Or where fair waters glow in sun-ray bright, 
 
 And all the rich variety of light. 
 
 XLV. 
 
 " See'st thou," he said, " where yonder spire appears, 
 A Christian temple ! Ah ! heart-cheering sight, — 
 
 What time her children's never ceasing tears 
 Flow for unhappy Albion's evil plight ; 
 
 Where seems no moment left for vows, and prayers, 
 Where demons seek no more the shades of night 
 
 To veil their deeds ! Is there who bend the knee 
 
 A remnant yet ? grant gracious heaven there be.
 
 104 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 " How proudly swells yon bank, where rears on high 
 Gotterich its battlements ! whose shades far thrown 
 
 Shelter the subject-lands secure that lie 
 
 Beneath De Valence' banners fair, which crown 
 
 Its towers corbeill'd, crenated, dazzling the eye 
 With their emblazonment, and gaily blown 
 
 In ever eddying volumes unconfin'd, 
 
 Unroll their brilliant quarterings on the wind. 
 
 XLV1I. 
 
 " Look where its rugged outline far away 
 In the remote horizon Malvern shews ; 
 
 There the late tempest still asserts its sway, 
 And grasping heaven the bow of mercy glows, 
 
 Bended of God since the tremendous day 
 Of wat'ry doom, and earth's expiring throes. 
 
 Blest seven-fold type of mercy, on yon Heaven, 
 
 Enkindling hope, by God's own hand deep graven."
 
 DE WYRHALE. J05 
 
 XLVIII. 
 
 But noon-tide hour is past, and his fleet course 
 Downwards the day-star to th' horizon's verge 
 
 Directing, hastes to quench his fiery force 
 Beneath the billowy ocean's restless surge ; 
 
 But he of light and life exhaustless source, 
 Shall with a new-born ray again emerge 
 
 On other worlds, and feed them from the streams 
 
 Of life and health enkindled in his beams. 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 De Wyrhale halts : upon the right appears 
 A rapid track descending steep ; his eye 
 
 Glanced through the woods —his anxious forehead wears 
 Deep lin'd the furrows of keen scrutiny : 
 
 " Edwin — that rock," said he, " bare front that rears 
 (The eagle hath his eyrie there) lo ! I 
 
 Even at its base, such aid of armed hands, 
 
 Have stationed as the per'lous hour demands.
 
 106 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 " Osric, round quickly thou the lofty yat, 
 Beware of the countersign — 't is ' Rosabelle 
 
 And Esperance' — fly thou, rapid as thought ; 
 A ready plump of goodly spears shall swell 
 
 Our escort, hold in arms, faithful, and fraught 
 With zeal, as suits the occasion — mark ye well 
 
 Edwin, the route prescribed — and let thine ear 
 
 Drink deep my words, and fast in memory bear. 
 
 LI. 
 
 " Haste to the Holme away, yon knoll below, 
 And thou shalt note a bark on Wye appear, 
 
 And one that waits to waft thee o'er its flow 
 Of rapid waves ; a guide shall meet thee here, 
 
 Where dense the hollies, and the yew trees grow, 
 And in concealment wrap his low hut near. 
 
 There halt ; but ere the ruddy Morn relume 
 
 The lamp of light thy secret march resume.
 
 DE WYRHALE. 107 
 
 LII. 
 
 " And Rosabelle," he said, " as from each eye 
 
 Glistening with grief the warm round sorrows gush, 
 
 Repose thee in that home of poverty — 
 
 There shall the withered broom, and the dried rush 
 
 Pillow thy tender cheek — thy Knight must hie 
 
 Where Heaven, and royal Margaret's wrath shall crush 
 
 York's bloody laurels, and avenge the land 
 
 Of all the guilt, that stains his red right-hand. 
 
 LIU. 
 
 "To Margaret thine own true Knight roust speed, 
 A loyal heart and dauntless arm to bear, 
 
 A loyal heart and true, which aye shall bleed 
 
 When torn from thee, yet shall not know despair ; 
 
 For fate hath yet perchance a day decreed, 
 
 A halcyon day for king-crowned Lancaster, — 
 
 Damnonia's sons now march for Severn's wave ; 
 
 And Cimbria's hearts are up, and Pembroke brave,
 
 108 DE WYRHALK. 
 
 LIV. 
 
 " And youthful Richmond, hasten to requite 
 
 Barnet's tremendous day and Warwick's blood." — 
 Here as he spake, in iron vestment dight, 
 
 They note approaching near where yet they stood 
 A troop with lance and pennon — gleamy light 
 
 Forth from their steel points shot as on they rode.- 
 " Gallants !" De Wyrhale cried, " our time delay 
 
 Admits not — swiftly with your charge away. — 
 
 LV. 
 
 " Up Edwin ! 'fore the Lady Rosabelle 
 Be it thy pride, thy glory and renown — 
 
 For loyal knight's proud heart be sure might swell 
 With envy at the post thy troth hath won. 
 
 From dangers lurking near God speed ye well — 
 The breeze of evening warns ye to be gone — 
 
 Mark me — your task performed with duteous care, 
 
 To noble Pembroke standard quick repair.
 
 DE WYRHALE. 109 
 
 LVI. 
 
 " Tell him that York with vigour prompt as bold, 
 Hath Gloucester for his prey — its walls with lance 
 
 And beamy spear a hostile front unfold ; 
 Warn thou that warily the chief advance. 
 
 I fly where loyal hearts our cause uphold, 
 If, for the important errand, fate fair chance 
 
 Afford, and make my bosom's purpose good, 
 
 And I be wafted o'er Sabrina's flood." — 
 
 LVII. 
 
 He spake, o'ermastering grief in manly strain, 
 But can no more, though struggling with the foe 
 
 That raged within, the contest still sustain, 
 Onwards impelled, as is the torrent's flow 
 
 Bearing all hinderance down, opposed in vain. 
 Silent he stood, and his dulled eye with woe 
 
 Replete he turned, and its fixed glances fell 
 
 Where he must say, nor linger long, farewell.
 
 HO DE WYRHALE. 
 
 LVIII. 
 
 How fared the Lady Rosabelle that hour, 
 The bitter hour of parting ! when her ear 
 
 Drank in his latest accents, till no more 
 
 Nor sound distinct appeared, nor objects clear, 
 
 And things confused nor form nor feature wore, 
 Till she had almost ceased to feel or hear, — 
 
 Such dubious state was hers — a living death — 
 
 Whilst panting still her bosom heaved for breath. 
 
 LIX. 
 
 Excess of grief doth often, like the chill 
 
 Of winter's cramping breeze which crusts the flood 
 Of gelid waters, o'er life's surface steal 
 
 With c.old so keen, and comfortless, and crude, 
 That all without wears silent death ; and still, 
 
 Within, shall yet the current of the blood 
 Languid and faint along its channels flow, 
 And yet the encumbered heart beat dull and slow.
 
 LIE WYRHALE. Ill 
 
 LX. 
 
 Her cheek was tintless, bleached by her despair, 
 Like the Camellia's snowy leaves, so pure 
 
 So spotless, which unfolds to the light air 
 
 In Niphon's glowing vales its charms mature, 
 
 Or in those boundless distant regions where 
 Wide roll thy yellow waters, vast Amoor, 
 
 'Neath the green dragon's laws, and changeless sway, 
 
 Fixed as the Medes, inflexible as they. 
 
 LXI. 
 
 Nor ready sigh brake forth to yield relief 
 
 To her charged chest, full swelled as it would burst ; 
 And not a tear, the solace of deep grief, 
 
 To dew her glassy eye that seemed athirst 
 For briny moisture ; unrelaxed and stiff, 
 
 Her limbs refused their office, as coerced 
 By influence superhuman ; so seemed she, 
 That beauteous Lady in her misery.
 
 112 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 LXII. 
 
 The Knight her hand as colourless as stone 
 
 Or parian, or pentelican fast held, 
 And with his hurning lip impressed thereon 
 
 Love's parting seal — then silently he kneeled 
 A moment, and his eye was upwards thrown 
 
 From whence in streams the copious anguish welled. 
 And now the word is given — to Rosabelle 
 
 A dismal sound, as sad as parting knell. — 
 
 LXIII. 
 
 Forward her escort moved — soon lost beneath 
 The woodland vast, its march pursued in vain 
 
 The Knight's fixed eye, keen ear, suspended breath, 
 Till stern necessity snapped short the chain 
 
 Of killing thoughts more terrible than death. 
 Osric alone of all the faithful train 
 
 Is near, and he can comfort none bestow, 
 
 For he was all subdued to note their woe.
 
 DE WYRHALE. 113 
 
 LXIV. 
 
 The Knight, 't was a gigantic effort, broke 
 The mournful silence that prevailed a space, 
 
 Regaining self-possession as he spoke : — 
 " Ho ! Osric, rouse thee lad, we must retrace 
 
 Our steps beneath the shades of the broad oak ; — 
 Our steeds good Osric — didst thou note the place 
 
 Where thou didst shelter them ? Heaven grant 
 
 They be not gone, when most their aid we want." 
 
 LXV. 
 
 " This morn," the youth replied, " secure from heat 
 A caverned rock fast by the Hermit's grot 
 
 I found, and deemed its shade a safe retreat 
 
 From gad-fly's sting with torturing venom fraught ; 
 
 I left them safe e'er loud the rude storms beat, 
 
 But know not how Heaven's awful thunders wrought 
 
 Upon their timorous natures unsustained 
 
 By the kind influence of the master's hand."
 
 114 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 LXVI. 
 
 Now, backward turned their steps, again they thread 
 Each mazy path, and down the steep ravine, 
 
 And upwards to the point, with careful heed, 
 Lest they o'ershoot the mark hid by the green 
 
 Luxuriant foliage, swiftly they proceed ; 
 
 And now once more they reached the silent scene 
 
 Of Theofrid's rude septilture and tomb, 
 
 Silent and peaceful his low delved home. 
 
 LXVII. 
 
 Soon lost to view : — onward they pressed, and gain 
 The cave and search its limits all around ; 
 
 But for their gallant steeds they sought in vain. 
 Footmarks howe'er imprinting the soft ground, 
 
 The tell-tale trace of plunderers remain, 
 
 They shout, — loud echoes from the cave rebound ; 
 
 " Alone," exclaimed the Knight, " with her glib tongue 
 
 Dwells not the shadowy nymph these wilds among; —
 
 DE WYRHALE. 115 
 
 LXV1II. 
 
 "Mark you the trampled ground? we must not spare 
 Pursuit, and search of secret den and haunt 
 
 Where selvage beast to skulk and sleep repair, 
 
 When they have quenched their appetite's sharp want ; 
 
 And, far removed from daylight's dangerous glare, 
 Satiate in its dark shelter, stretch and pant, 
 
 Till that returning night's befriending shade 
 
 Lure them again to ply their midnight trade." 
 
 LXIX. 
 
 Now move they forth that brave and wildered pair, 
 And note advancing 'neath the tall trees' shade 
 
 A stranger, bold and armed, a bow who bare 
 
 Some six foot long of toughest yew-tree made — 
 
 A leathern coat and hood he wont to wear, 
 That gallant wight erect, of none afraid : 
 
 A goodly sheaf of arrows bright and keen, 
 
 Was deftly stuck beneath his baldrick green. 
 
 i 2
 
 116 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 LXX. 
 
 On his right side a sword and buckler hung, 
 
 A dagger silver-hafted armed his left, 
 Pointed and edged ; a horn that oft had flung 
 
 Its deafening summons round each vault and cleft 
 Of echoing Dean, from his left shoulder swung ; 
 
 And many a timorous heart of calm was reft 
 Whose ear that awful sound did chance invade. — 
 " Say, who and whence art thou ?" De Wyrhale said. 
 
 LXI. 
 
 " I reck not," he replied, and careless laughed, 
 " Of Briton, Saxon, Norman, or of Dane 
 
 If I compacted be, so I my craft 
 
 Well know, nor ever do dismiss in vain 
 
 Drawn to my ear the unerring cloth-yard shaft. 
 Or who or what I am gives me no pain — 
 
 But well I wot, Sir Knight, who thou mayest be, 
 
 I know thee a stout forester in fee.
 
 DE WYIIHALE. 117 
 
 LXXII. 
 
 " Hark ye, Sir Knight, your steeds are fairly housed, — 
 
 But on condition shall again obey 
 The master's hand : for know we are aroused 
 
 By the time's aspect to a nobler fray 
 Than hitherto our wont, and have espoused 
 
 The red-rose war ; though well we might repay 
 Injurious Lancaster, ere now whose sword 
 Hath on our heads the law's keen vengeance poured." 
 
 LXXIII. 
 
 " Say est thou, bold forester ?" De Wyrhale broke 
 
 Quick on his speech — "by stout St. George thou art one 
 
 Of wonderous stuff, who on thee thus durst take 
 To extort condition ere restore mine own. — 
 
 Bethink thee well, ere thou the spark awake 
 Of my yet sleeping wrath, and thou atone 
 
 With life or limb thy pride, that moves me so, — 
 
 Spite of thy goose-winged shaft, and strong yew bow."
 
 118 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 LXXIV. 
 
 " I will not bandy words" was the reply, 
 
 " Though life has been to me such game of chance, 
 
 I care not for the hazard of the die 
 
 Nor know I fear, nor crouch to sword, nor lance ; 
 
 As many a daring deed might testify — 
 
 He too, the Lord of Lisle, who dared to prance 
 
 At his life's cost in an ill-omened day 
 
 Joining with Berkley's Earl in deadly fray. 
 
 LXXV. 
 
 " 'Twas I that drew the bow, the shaft that sent, 
 And planted deep its steel point in the brain 
 
 Of that proud lord, when that Fitzharding vent 
 Gave to the wrath, he did perforce restrain 
 
 Rankling long time within his bosom pent ; 
 
 Nor proved his cherished hope of vengeance vain.— 
 
 Oh Wotton's wealth ! it was a glorious prize, 
 
 And mothers' shrieks were heard, and infants' cries,
 
 DE WYRHALE. 119 
 
 LXXVI. 
 
 " Shrill music, sorting well with the deep groan 
 
 Of writhing foemen 'neath the death- wound's pang." 
 
 He seized his horn, and stayed for answer none ; 
 But far around a blast sonorous rang, 
 
 Such piercing thrill was in its sharp loud tone, 
 The eagle from her eyrie upwards sprang ; 
 
 The stag ran wildly, and within her lair 
 
 The wolf close crept, and heard and shivered there. 
 
 LXXVII. 
 
 Its wakening din aroused a motley band 
 
 From covert, den, and brake, in arms who come ; — 
 Some grasped the yew-tree bow, and some the brand, 
 
 Rusty yet keen — in haubergeon were some ; 
 Such arms in truth as chance had brought to hand. 
 
 Or mailed hood, or bacinet and plume, 
 Or cuirass braced with metal thickly sown, 
 Rustred or scaled o'er their broad bosom thrown.
 
 120 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 LXXVIII. 
 
 Some ponderous maule, ronice, or partizan 
 Or murderous axe — each one a dagger bore 
 
 Beneath his belt — onward with zeal they ran 
 To do their leader's bidding. — These before 
 
 Were led two stately coursers, who the van 
 Pre-occupied : De Wyrhale scanned them o'er, 
 
 And knew his own good steeds. Meanwhile the scene 
 
 Wondering he viewed, nor knew what it might mean. 
 
 LIX. 
 
 But he who wound the horn seized quick the rein 
 And led his war-horse to the astonished knight, 
 
 Which did curvet and bound as if again 
 
 His lord to view had filled him with delight ; 
 
 Nobly he arched his neck with copious mane 
 
 Distinguished fair, when thus that bowman wight 
 
 Spake humbly as he deigned his neck to bow — 
 
 " I hold thy stirrup,^-mount Sir Jenkyn thou, —
 
 DE WYRHALE. 12 L 
 
 LXXX. 
 
 " Declare thy will, and we are prompt to obey ; 
 
 Art thou not native born ? true forester 
 To other will obedience scorn to pay — 
 
 We love him not, we hate the foreigner. 
 We '11 march to combat so thou lead the way, 
 
 And to the death the red-rose standard rear. 
 Think'st thou that royal Margaret will withdraw 
 (We are outlaws, mark ye well) the pains of law, 
 
 LXXXI. 
 
 " And we for service done shall rest assoiled ? 
 
 Wilt thou not aid to make our purpose good ? 
 Already for the red-rose have we toiled, 
 
 And dyed our loyal hands in rebel blood, 
 And hope from York have none ; for we have spoiled 
 
 His minions who prophaned our ancient wood : 
 And thought their heads from Henry's wrath to save, — 
 By heaven they found a refuge — in the grave. —
 
 122 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 LXXXII. 
 
 " Speak Aylesmore, was that cask of rich design 
 With polished steel inwrought from Rivers torn ? 
 
 Thy use 't is true hath somewhat dulled its shine : — 
 And eke that Zaragozan blade, now borne 
 
 Stern Baglin by that sturdy hand of thine, 
 
 Was once in bloody feud by Widville worn ? — 
 
 'T is so, thy nod assents : — How earned ye, say, 
 
 Hepburn thy shield, thy baldrick Hathaway ? — 
 
 LXXXIII. 
 
 " Attend me yet Sir knight — these woods have ears, 
 There's nought from Hewling hid their haunts within ; 
 
 Be sure for Lady Rosabelle thy fears 
 
 (Nay start not thus) were causeless ; sin, 
 
 Mortal sin it were, should foresters 
 
 Ere harm, pardie, so fair a child of Dean. 
 
 This night, we do invite thee, be our guest, 
 
 To-morrow march we straight where seems thee best.
 
 DE WYIIHALE. 123 
 
 LXXXIV. 
 
 " Now by St. Paul, thou may'st not hesitate, 
 For York full flushed with victory is near ; 
 
 And totters in the trembling scale the fate 
 Of Lancaster. — Soon will the Queen appear 
 
 On Severn's bank, — resolve thee ere too late. 
 We have bosoms ever strange to craven fear, 
 
 Stout hearts of brass, and eke to serve our turn, 
 
 Spirits untamed like wild-fires' blaze that burn. 
 
 LXXXV. 
 
 " The morrow's dawn may waft us o'er the wave 
 Of Severn's turbid tides ; no scant shall be 
 
 (They say we are Pirates too) its floods to brave 
 Of ready barks that fearless dare the sea. 
 
 So shall thy zeal with royal Margaret have 
 The meed of her applause, and pardon we. 
 
 Away, away with scruples lest they work 
 
 Harm to thy cause, and we be joined with York."
 
 124 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 LXXXVI. 
 
 He ceased ; the Knight awhile in silence stood 
 Absorbed ; awhile in anxious thought reviewed 
 
 The red-rose cause, and anxious paced the wood ; 
 At length, by stern necessity subdued, 
 
 As once again his war-horse he bestrode 
 
 That pawed the green herb, parley he renewed ; 
 
 And uttered, briefly, to compliance won, 
 
 " The compact 's good, bold forester ! lead on." — 
 
 LXXXVII. 
 
 " Here stripling," Hewling cried, " as Osric's rein 
 He proffered to his hand, " hast need of aid ? 
 
 Thy steed is of proud mettle and rich vein 
 
 Of blood." — He heard, and nought in answer said ; 
 
 But with lithe bound in the saddle vaults amain. 
 Erect he sate, as he the crew surveyed, 
 
 And on his courser gallantly upborne 
 
 Curled with a smile his rosy lip in scorn.
 
 DE WYRHALE. 125 
 
 LXXXVIII. 
 
 Night's shadows now fast travelling o'er their head 
 Were with a sable veil o'er all things closing ; 
 
 Already sleep, a soothing influence shed 
 
 Upon the feathered tribes, perched, and reposing 
 
 Beneath the skreen by kindly nature spread 
 
 To guard them : now the timid hare is browsing, 
 
 But on the alert, each leaf fall to her ear, 
 
 As blows the night wind, brings a cause of fear. 
 
 LXXXIX, 
 
 Frequent the beetle drones along the air 
 
 Right drowsily, and sober owlets hoot 
 A tremulous, ominous strain ; or soothes the ear, 
 
 Breeze-borne the dainty and delicious note 
 Of nightingale, as thrilling sweet and clear 
 
 She pours forth heaven- taught music from her throat. — 
 Meanwhile the march proceeds ; o'er many a mile 
 They trace the wood with unrelaxing toil.
 
 12G DE WYRHALE. 
 
 XC. 
 
 And soon they move in darkness more intense 
 By thickly woven foliage rendered ; ray 
 
 Of friendly star pierced not that skreen so dense ; 
 Hewling the maze well knew, and led the way. 
 
 Ah misery ! the protracted long suspense 
 
 Of those who see not, know not where they stray ; 
 
 But fear ne'er found, rank weed of haser kind, 
 
 Congenial nook in brave Sir Jenkyn's mind. 
 
 XC1. 
 
 At length, emerging from the pitchy shade 
 
 Of the deep woodland, they the heavens behold 
 
 Above with welcome, but faint light o'erspread, 
 For here and there bright glittering drops of gold 
 
 Brake through the cloud ; and now with pain they tread 
 O'er stony crag beneath their feet that rolled, 
 
 When hark ! a voice pealed suddenly, " Stand ho ! — 
 
 Who comes ? say quick, be he or friend or foe !"
 
 DE WYRHALE. 127 
 
 XCII. 
 
 " A Friend ;"— " the word ?" " 'tis Lancaster ;" " all's well ; 
 
 Pass, friends." — And now with footing insecure 
 They dive into a deep and rugged dell ; 
 
 Portentous forms of outline vast, obscure, 
 Horrific scowles present, rude rock, rough fell, 
 
 Of night-fiends the distorted portraiture. 
 Till gleaming, sudden bright, a torch's blaze 
 Brake o'er their path with its heart-cheering rays. — 
 
 XCII1. 
 
 " How now good Baynham ! hast thou fire and food 
 And rushes stored?" cried Hewling, — "by my troth, 
 
 We so have toiled this day, and tracked the wood, 
 That we have ample need, God wot, of both ; 
 
 And we bring those, if they be flesh and blood, 
 I doubt not will partake, and nothing loth : — 
 
 Here mark ye well these goodly steeds must share 
 
 Largely, for they are noble beasts, our care."
 
 128 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 XCIV. 
 
 Near was an ant re vast, to which with phrase 
 And act assorting he conducts the Knight ; 
 
 Much space was there within, and fire's fair blaze, 
 And pine-tree torch's flame-diffusing light ; 
 
 And savoury odours steam that wont to please 
 The nose of him who hath strong appetite. 
 
 Around grim bearded visages appear, 
 
 Hungry and lean, and clamorous for their chear, 
 
 xcv. 
 
 With shaggy locks, and chin and cheek hirsute, 
 Like fabled Satyrs which the graphic song 
 
 Of bards have pictured, and half-man, half-brute 
 Described, that harbour the dark caves among : 
 
 Harsh were their features, hard and resolute, 
 
 "With limbs to toil enured, and braced and strong. 
 
 That day, dire crime ! their fare was woodland game, 
 
 A stag's fat haunches smoked before the flame.
 
 DE WYRHALE. 1*29 
 
 XCVI. 
 
 And from the cave's high roof reflected light 
 Was scattered dazzlingly ; above them shone 
 
 With glow reflective, pendulous, and bright 
 And set with gems full many a pointed cone ; 
 
 Crystals of water, rare and exquisite, 
 
 By wonder working ages changed to stone. 
 
 Around were spoils collected from afar, 
 
 Packet, and bale, and cask and naval gear. 
 
 XCVII. 
 
 Full oft a harvest did broad Severn yield 
 
 To these, who wont to plough her ample breast 
 
 For barbarous prey, and their hard bosoms steeled 
 'Gainst touch of pity, and the sons oppressed 
 
 Of peaceful commerce ; nor their hands withheld 
 From blood ; the wave ingulphed the unblest 
 
 And mangled victim, or perchance the gale 
 
 Cast it ashore and told the hideous tale.
 
 130 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 XCVIII. 
 
 And now they haste to feast, and from the hone 
 Rend the tough muscle, and the gluttonous rage 
 
 Of sharp imperious hunger they full soon 
 
 Gorging their fill with plenteous food assuage ; 
 
 Nor spake they till the first keen onset done 
 Less fierce the war with sated teeth they wage. 
 
 Then boisterous tongues were heard that loudly told 
 
 Of the day's feats, or daring deeds of old ; 
 
 XCIX. 
 
 Whilst in pledged cups strong drink they pour and quaff, 
 As they each other oft in rude strain cheer 
 
 To noisy riot, mixed with the loud laugh 
 Vacant and vulgar, hideous to the ear 
 
 Of gentler breeding — jest whereon to graft' 
 Gesture obscene, lewd wink, and filthy jeer 
 
 Of lowborn ribaldry, till one by one 
 
 Invading sleep their eyelids crept upon.
 
 DE WYRHALE. 131 
 
 C. 
 
 Nor did Sir Jenkyn long refuse to calm 
 
 His anxious mind with many a care distressed ; 
 
 He sought, and found kind nature's healing balm, 
 As on his stony bed the rush he pressed ; 
 
 Nor guilty fear had he, nor sickly qualm 
 
 Of conscience waked, the murderer of rest. — 
 
 Fast by his side young Osric closely crept, 
 
 And dropped his well fringed lids and sweetly slept. 
 
 k a
 
 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 Canto iv.
 
 And ground and cause that men so strive 
 Is covetise, and false ambition ; 
 That ever iche would have domination 
 Over other, and tread him under foot, 
 Which of all sorrow 'ginning is and roote 
 As Christ recordeth ; rede, looke ye may see 
 For lack of love what mischief there may be. 
 
 John Lydgaxe.
 
 ■#,, 
 
 TEWKSBURY CHURCH. 
 
 Go weep for human nature, ye who scan 
 The page of history, and note therein 
 
 Its tissue of strange horrors ; how that man, 
 Appalling truth ! hath aye forsaken been 
 
 Of his Creator, since that time began, 
 
 Death's victim slaughtered at the shrine of sin; 
 
 For scarce the light of heaven his eye surveyed, 
 
 Ere his rebellious spririt disobeyed.
 
 136 DE WYRHALE, 
 
 II. 
 
 Behold the sad result, as eagle eyed, 
 
 Excursively ye glauce the broad world o'er : 
 
 With devilish rancour tainted and deep dyed, 
 Oh reeks not all its glebe enriched with gore ? 
 
 The range of those to darkness doomed how wide ! 
 How straightened theirs, their Maker that adore, 
 
 Who gave the imperishable soul to be 
 
 An image of his own eternity ! 
 
 III. 
 
 Our Maker's image, — oh presumptuous thought ! 
 
 See all around, if trace there yet remain, 
 Though faint it be, of our primaeval lot, 
 
 When human nature stood exempt from stain : 
 From pole to pole be earth's vast regions sought, 
 
 From far Corea to the Western main ; 
 Our Maker's image ! 'tis defaced, 'tis gone, 
 And none there are do good, ah no ! not one. —
 
 DE WYRHALE. 137 
 
 IV. 
 
 And evil's blight, and sin, besotting bane, 
 So cramp the immortal energies of mind, 
 
 By heaven endowed (ah, can it be in vain ?) 
 With faculty to wander unconfined 
 
 From earth to heaven ; which space could scarce resl 
 Buoyed on Newtonian pinion ; and so blind 
 
 The torpid conscience slumbering in the breast 
 
 Of the wild human savage dimmed, opprest, 
 
 That high above the man the unthinking brute, 
 By instinct strong impelled, triumphant soars ! 
 
 Go, view Australia's wilds, there man's pursuit 
 Is aye the lust, which reason still abhors ; 
 
 In misery lost, of guilt the baneful fruit, 
 
 With heart, that every hateful passion stores, 
 
 Dire foe he roams of all that 's blest, and good, 
 
 Unquenched his thirst, till it be slaked with blood.
 
 138 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Nor hut has he, nor home, nor social bond 
 Of kindly union ; nor controlling sway 
 
 Of law, or lord ; nor chearing thought beyond 
 The hour, to death that gives his crumbling clay 
 
 For him, nor hope extends a fairy wand, 
 Nor revelation hath vouchsafed a ray. 
 
 Is this the son of him who Eden trod, 
 
 The care of his Creator, and his God ? 
 
 VII. 
 
 "Who heard His voice, and parleyed face to face, 
 Drinking with greedy ears delicious sounds 
 
 Of healthful knowledge, harmony and peace ? 
 Ah sorely, sorely the drear maze confounds 
 
 Our feeble reason who the thread would trace 
 Amid the mystery which our brief view bounds, 
 
 Our first creation to the Almighty hand 
 
 Of bounty infinite in wisdom planned !
 
 DE WYRHALE. 139 
 
 VIII. 
 
 For cast thine eyes again where fierce, and fresh 
 For slaughter roams the Zealander prepared, 
 
 Beneath his tattooed chief to rive the flesh 
 Of his slain species, and with set teeth bared 
 
 To seize, whom force hath mastered, or the mesh 
 Of treachery hath with lurking wile ensnared. 
 
 As lions crouch ere bound upon their food, 
 
 Or as Arachne weaves her web for blood. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Alas ! alas ! where most with lavish hand, 
 
 All-bounteous heaven hath choicest mercies poured ; 
 
 Pure suns, moist skies, that quicken all the land 
 With seeds of fruit and flowers profusely stored, 
 
 And no dewed brow of painful toil demand ; — 
 
 There on his fellow banquets Earth's base lord ! — 
 
 There by revenge impelled the rancorous brood 
 
 Gorge the warm flesh, and lap the ruby flood.
 
 140 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 X. 
 
 But onward from the features tanned and swarthe, 
 Of sun-burnt regions, speed we to the snow, 
 
 And bleaching influence of the keen-breathed north ; 
 Where, close wrapped round, the fur-clad Esquimaux 
 
 Dots the white surface from his hut crept forth 
 
 Ice-ribbed, and roofed, and mounts his rude traineau. 
 
 Hath he a mind, that biped, he that schools 
 
 To duty the poor dog he reins, and rules 1 
 
 XI. 
 
 Oh is the great Creator's image there ? 
 
 Just heaven forgive the bard's presumptuous lay — 
 Is man so placed, or his rough foe, the bear, 
 
 The nobler beast, the huntsman or his prey ? 
 Hath that o'er this a more abundant share 
 
 Of knowledge, save to circumvent and slay ? 
 King, priest, and noble here thy fellow see, 
 Compacted substance — framed and fleshed like thee ! —
 
 DE WYRHALE. 141 
 
 XII. 
 
 Fast speed we hence avert the sickened eye 
 
 From scenes so hateful ; let the venturous wing 
 
 Of fancy lure us, where some happier sky 
 A fairer prospect in our view may bring ; 
 
 Where flowers and frankincense rich gales supply, 
 And odorous plants their spicy perfumes fling ; 
 
 Where Ganges rolls, where gorgeous chiefs appear, 
 
 Temple, and priest, and pilgrimage and prayer. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Snuff ye the steamy savour from yon pile 
 
 That taints the breeze, a demon's rich repast ? 
 
 A desolate widow with a maniac smile 
 Kindled the fire, and on that altar cast 
 
 Her beauties in youth's bloom — and hark ! the while 
 A shout of thousands swells upon the blast ! 
 
 There Brama reigns and countless myriads claim 
 
 For him God's incommunicable name. —
 
 142 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Yet onward speed we, where the Dragon's sway, 
 O'er half mankind, with absolute controul 
 
 Reigns unresisted, and alas ! makes prey- 
 Clutched in his fangs, of body and of soul ; 
 
 There ceaseless cries of innocents away, 
 
 Slain from the womb, to heaven for vengeance roll ; 
 
 Where mothers, horrid thought ! the floweret doom, 
 
 Which their own bosoms cherished into bloom. 
 
 XV. 
 
 Why roves afar the muse — oh ! if she lack 
 A theme of horror, need her wing from home 
 
 Hasten excursive ? hail the wanderer back, 
 
 Fancy un pruned, who suffered her to roam ; — 
 
 Breathes not my song of storm and piteous wrack, 
 And seas of blood by rancour lashed to foam, 
 
 What time fair emblem now of peace and love, 
 
 To rival contest stung the Roses strove ?
 
 DE WYRHALE. 143 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Had mercy beamed a ray of hope on thee, 
 
 Of Christian hope, and taught its precept mild, 
 
 When their sharp wrath and bitter rivalry, 
 
 Land of our sires with dead thy valleys piled ? 
 
 Thou loveliest daughter of the dark blue sea, 
 Which doth embrace thee, fondled as a child, 
 
 With all the fervour of the heart's alarms, 
 
 In the safe refuge of a mother's arms ? 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Oh rich in cultured excellence, and blest ! 
 
 Land ! where the plant of Freedom nursed hath found 
 With fond affection fostered and caressed 
 
 By our forefathers, a congenial ground, 
 Reared by their toil, and by their life-blood dressed, 
 
 And safely fenced with chartered rights around, 
 Thanks to the gallant hearts, whose valour won 
 Ah. righteously ! the inestimable boon :
 
 144 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Time was, the blood doth freeze when we revert 
 
 To that dark hour, when streamed even here the blade 
 
 Of human sacrifice ! —How racks the heart 
 Dire memory of polluted grove, and glade, 
 
 Where the pale Druid each convulsive start 
 Of quivering lip, and limb, intent surveyed ; 
 
 And stood each ominous throb prepared to scan, 
 
 As greedy Hesus lapped the gore of man ! 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Thine Druid was the robe of purest white ; 
 
 The beard's majestic, venerable flow ; 
 The wand, the mystic ovum ; chased and bright, 
 
 The decorative chain of golden glow, 
 That from thy neck shot forth a beamy light, 
 
 As from the oak thou reapedst the misseltoe, 
 Amid the shout of joyous thousands shorn, 
 What time the young moon lifted up her horn.
 
 DE WYRHALE. 145 
 
 XX. 
 
 Ah thou couldst raise thy fratricidal brand, 
 
 Thou hoary Druid ! keenly edged, and sharped 
 
 For sacrifice on sea-girt Mona's strand ; 
 
 Whilst that wild bards their awful descant harped, 
 
 Snatching the loud strings with enthusiast hand 
 Frantic, and fell, with demon influence warped 
 
 Delirious ravings o'er polluted fires 
 
 With viewless spells enchained which held our sires. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 And oft where yet erect upsprings on high 
 
 The Buckstein o'er an undulating sea 
 Of Dean's dark shadowing groves, whence roams the eye 
 
 O'er boundless woodland tracks amazedly ; 
 Druid thou leddest, bedecked with wreaths, to die 
 
 Thy fellow ! — Hell devised impiety ! — 
 And heard'st unmoved as o'er the trembling stone 
 The life-drops flowed, his last expiring groan.
 
 146 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 Who nailed the blessed Jesu to the tree ? 
 
 Who scoffed as o'er his gentle features ran 
 The copious stream of agony, for thee, 
 
 Wrung from his soul's fierce grief, oh man ? 't was man. 
 Who taunted, who bowed down in mockery ? 
 
 Man ! heartless being ! — the parched lip and wan, 
 That for his foes in death craved mercy, viewed 
 By ruth untouched, by pity unsubdued ! 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 But from these painful musings fly my song, 
 
 Stored with fresh themes from fancy's varied urn, 
 
 Back to the caves and bowers of Dean, anions' 
 Whose thorny brake, and bush, and feathery fern, 
 
 Its sovereign oaks beneath, a sturdy throng 
 Await the first faint gleam of morn's return ; 
 
 Marshalled in Henry's cause prepared they stood, 
 
 To dye the red-rose deeper in their blood.
 
 DE WYRHALE. 147 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 Repose awhile within that woodland bound 
 
 With Hewling's hardy bands around them spread, 
 
 Had brave De Wyrhale and young Osric found ; 
 But when the feeble ray of twilight played 
 
 Above, and morn had dashed with pearls the ground, 
 Ere golden gleams subdued the night's dark shade, 
 
 They haste away to Severn's sounding shore, 
 
 Where many a bark lay moored, with sail and oar 
 
 XXV. 
 
 For ready deed equipped ; full soon aboard 
 Are all in safety stowed ; aslant the flood 
 
 The wary helmsman points the prow ; loud roared 
 The wave beneath ; aloft bold Hewling stood, 
 
 And with the pilot's eye, and caution stored 
 
 Through shoal and current made their passage good. 
 
 The rest their leader's bark with order due, 
 
 In his experience confident pursue. 
 
 L 2
 
 148 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 Soon as the flood is traversed forth they throw 
 
 The grappling anchor barbed and toothed ; upsprang 
 
 White foamy spray, as swift it rushed below, 
 
 Greedy to clutch the ground with its sharp fang. 
 
 They gain the shore, and move a goodly shew 
 Of strength prepared for war : no longer rang 
 
 Tumultuous din poured forth from noisy lungs — 
 
 De Wyrhale's frown hath hushed the war of tongues. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 Equipped and tutored with prompt discipline, 
 A dazzling host in arms right fair to view, 
 
 They in the red-rose cause devote, to win 
 
 A toil-earned wreath to Margaret's camp fast drew, 
 
 Where her behest bade hands and hearts convene, 
 That yet at Henry's holy cause beat true. 
 
 At fall of eve upon their listening ear, 
 
 A joyous shout struck up for Lancaster.
 
 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 141) 
 
 Night follows, but hehold ! un tranquil scene, 
 The camp of ever busy movement, kept, 
 
 Where nought but Nature's veriest need could win 
 To taste of sleep, and few were there who slept. 
 
 Yet soon the balmy god, despite of din, 
 With soporific charm o'er Osric crept, 
 
 But when the tinted dawn with its first ray, 
 
 Faintly announced the approaching glare of day, 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 With louder sound throughout the host began 
 
 The hum of stirring action : to and fro 
 Hurrying was heard the frequent tramp of man, 
 
 And neigh of war-horse ; whilst the unceasing blow 
 Of hammers closing rivets, clanking ran 
 
 Throughout ; as armourers o'er their labours glow. — 
 Shrill music too they wakened who prepare 
 A keener edge for the sharp work of war.
 
 150 • DE WYRHALE. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 'T was then De Wyrhale, ere the blythe tambour 
 Bade hearts in many a gallant bosom leap, — 
 
 Ah ! hearts perchance decreed to leap no more ! 
 Paused ere he brake young Osric's peaceful sleep. 
 
 See! whilst he scans the youth's soft features o'er 
 In meditative mood, how bright tears steep 
 
 With tenderness his eye, lest deadly scathe 
 
 Befal the youth in that sharp hour of wrath ! 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 Asleep he lay, and sweetly seemed to move 
 His tranquil bosom's swell, as it inhales 
 
 Life in the fostering air by heaven above, 
 Diffused, and wafted by the healthful gales : 
 
 So looked he Somnus, or a drowsy love, 
 
 Who thus in treacherous guise his godhead veils, 
 
 And seeks, as is his wont, with fraudful art 
 
 A triumph o'er the unwary gazer's heart.
 
 DE WYRHALE. 151 
 
 XXXIL 
 
 But whilst Sir Jenkyn silent stood, his eyes 
 
 Osric unclosed, and maiden-like, straight blushed, 
 
 Rosy with shame ; for quickened by surprise 
 Up to his cheek the crimson life-stream rushed. 
 
 Soon from his couch he sprang in lively guise, 
 And from his front aside his ringlets brushed, 
 
 And as dull Morpheus' deadening influence fled, 
 
 Courage, like vivid beams, his glances shed. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 " Osric ! bestir thee boy," De Wyrhale said ; — 
 " Rouse thee for mortal combat, for 'twixt youth 
 
 And manhood kens this deathful day the blade, 
 Be sure, distinction none, nor ruth, 
 
 Nor mercy : learn, the death dispensing trade 
 Henceforth must be thy pastime — 't is a truth 
 
 Thine ear must drink, thy breast guard close. — And now 
 
 I ask thy pledge, — on this good sword swear thou,
 
 152 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 " Swear by the cross, by stout St. George, by Him 
 Thy God, who hath redeemed thee, still to guard 
 
 Heedful, the silent lip ; nor recreant deem 
 Mysterious bearing, which thy life may ward 
 
 From Edward's hate. — For oh ! should fortune beam 
 On York, and he this clay from scathe be spared, 
 
 Grant Heaven the bloody hour thou may survive, 
 
 And Henry's cause, of thee upheld, yet live." 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 How shewed young Osric's cheek which late shone red ! 
 
 As by the sunbeam bleached in noontide hour, 
 The violet pines, and hangs its faded head, 
 
 So did the emotion's tintless touch pass o'er 
 His features, whence their rosy health seemed fled. 
 
 Now his pale cheek the lily's livery wore, 
 Now fervid in his front the red stream glowed, 
 As at his heart the tide fast ebbed and flowed.
 
 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 153 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 " Heaven's gracious dews on thy loved brow descend," 
 Excited Osric cried, " though woe, or weal 
 
 Be mine ; to thy control, behold, I bend 
 With will submissive, and obey with zeal ; 
 
 Nor force, nor fraud shall from my bosom rend 
 The tale to my tried faith thou durst reveal — 
 
 Yes, by the holy rood,— the cross which bare 
 
 The God I serve, by stout St. George I swear, 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 " Thy loved behests this heart shall aye retain 
 
 Whilst life shall yet endure, and memory dwell 
 This breast within, or she unrivalled reign 
 
 Thy lady love, the fair-haired Rosabelle ; 
 And the tried faith of her true Knight remain, 
 
 And yet for him her faithful bosom swell, 
 Preux Knight and gentle ; oh by every tear 
 She doth shed hourly, by herself I swear."
 
 154 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 XXXVIII. • 
 
 . A warmer tint passed o'er the manly brow 
 
 Of the brave Knight, for the loved name awoke 
 
 Sweet recollection, whilst that solemn vow 
 Young Osric with enthusiast ardour spoke ; 
 
 Whose every feature kindled with the glow 
 Of gilded hope, as he the bright sword took 
 
 De Wyrhale proffered, and with fervour warm 
 
 He stamped a kiss upon the trenchant arm 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 On which the cross was hafted ; force he used, 
 That from his pressed lip chased the ruby flood. 
 
 Nor from his grasp again the weapon loosed 
 
 Full soon, though tainted with the rust of blood ; 
 
 And fair inscribed its legend he perused, 
 
 And whilst the glittering characters he viewed, 
 
 Triumphant glow on his fair front flashed high, 
 
 As there " aye, Ready," meets his glowing eye.
 
 DE WYRHALE. 155 
 
 XL. 
 
 Then gracefully he proffered back the brand, 
 Mastering the manly feeling which would fain 
 
 Have still kept fast its hold with heart and hand, 
 As gleamed before his eyes a dazzling train 
 
 Of war-earned trophies, and the bright spark fanned 
 To ardent flame : — exclaimed the Knight, " retain 
 
 Osric thy weapon — quick attest thy claim 
 
 As erst thy sire, to an undying name. 
 
 XLI. 
 
 " Hast thou not heard of Henry's kingly sway, 
 The vigorous hand of Clifford long remained 
 
 Bulwark and tower of strength ? his arm the array 
 Of battle marshalled, and the fat glebe stained 
 
 With rebel gore, and chilled with cold dismay 
 
 Their heart and hope, — sore feud his breast retained, 
 
 For on St. Alban's field his sire had bowed, 
 
 Where first triumphant York a victor strode.
 
 156 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 XLII. 
 
 "And ever blazing burned as wax in flame 
 Of the fierce son the immitigable wrath : — 
 
 But the foul day of black revenge there came ; 
 Then did he Rutland slay, and to the death 
 
 Pursued proud York, and on his brow heaped shame 
 And scoff, ere that the keen steel quenched his breath. 
 
 But Clifford paid the forfeit with his life, 
 
 When Wharfe ran blood, at Towton's hard-fought strife. 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 " Dost hear, brave boy ? behold each ruthless deed 
 Within his breast hath Edward deeply stored : 
 
 Venom of leprous distilment shed, 
 
 As from the viper's tooth, rusts on his sword : 
 
 But he who slew was slain, so heaven decreed, 
 Yet Edward unrevenged the deed abhorred, 
 
 Still deems whilst Clifford's youthful heir survives, 
 
 For busy Fame doth whisper that he lives,
 
 1)E VVYRHALE. l r >7 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 " Reared in humility and shelter sure 
 Of lowly life remote from public view ; 
 
 Though still that youth his lot would feign obscure ; 
 Yet to his high-born race the life-blood true, 
 
 At times, that burns his cheek, and marks the pure 
 Bright ivory with a touch of roseate hue ; — 
 
 What smilest thou Youth, and doth thy glowing brow, 
 
 A Clifford's troth and dauntless heart avow ?" 
 
 XLV. 
 
 Then flashed the lightning of proud Osric's eye, 
 And the loud throb resounded in his breast ; 
 
 Then either lovely rose alternately 
 
 Usurped his cheek, as each its rival chased — 
 
 Then his full heart a tumult of vast joy 
 
 Convulsed, and transport all his soul possessed ; 
 
 And, as he spake his agitated mind 
 
 Was tossed, as waves the bull-rush in the wind.
 
 158 
 
 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 " By holy Paul, each gallant Clifford died 
 An envied death that came of faith, and troth ; 
 
 But infant Rutland's fate ! ah foul betide 
 
 The hideous blow befel that helpless youth, — 
 
 Cut off alas ! and withered in the pride 
 
 Of his life's budding spring ! — and yet in sooth 
 
 'Twere better thus perchance than live to imbrue 
 
 His hands in kindred slaughter's ghastly hue ! — 
 
 XLVII. 
 
 " Oft have I heard the tale, and oft would fain 
 Have breathed a curse, for sore it pained my ear ; 
 
 As oft a duteous impulse would restrain 
 
 My tongue was He my Sire ? and bade forbear, — 
 
 So that I strove to vent my soul in vain 
 
 When I have thought thereon, and shuddered ;" Here 
 
 De Wyrhale brake upon his rising ire, 
 
 " Clifford, beware — respect thy dauntless Sire !" —
 
 DE WYRHALE. 159 
 
 XLVIII. 
 
 But suddenly resounding through the sky 
 
 From startling drum the loud reveille uppealed 
 
 That lit the flame of every wakeful eye, 
 
 Of those who slept the drowsy lid unsealed ; 
 
 And to the ear, of bitter conflict nigh, 
 
 The approaching hour, — prognostic dire, revealed. 
 
 Alert to deal with death the hosts prepare, 
 
 Stiffen the sinew, brace the nerve for war. 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 "Arm, arm thee quick !'' Sir Jenkyn cried, and placed 
 The weighty cuirass on proud Osric's chest : 
 
 And on his thigh the steel-wrought cuish he braced, 
 And with the helm his throbbing temples pressed, 
 
 And in the greave his legs around encased, 
 
 And the rich belt he hung athwart his breast. — 
 
 Equipped he stood in dazzling sheen arrayed, 
 
 Eager in blood to tinge his maiden blade.
 
 1G0 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 Then moved they forth, Sir Jenkyn led the way ; 
 
 Close following paced the youth through the thronged maze 
 Of martial preparation. — Onward they 
 
 Pressed swift advancing, as decayed the hlaze 
 Of watch-fires now expiring — for the day 
 
 'Gan pour from orient skies its earliest rays ; 
 And now they reach where a fair tent uplift 
 'Midst turf- raised huts and leafy branches rift, 
 
 LI. 
 
 Hasty bivouac, from spoiled elm, or oak 
 
 Scantily roofed, its front above the field 
 With sovereign dominance. Upon them broke 
 Of numerous sentinels, the post who held, 
 Quick challenges repeated, and provoke 
 
 The quick reply, which they were prompt to yield, 
 As on they moved — Lo ! she who sate within 
 Those snowy folds, and slept not, was their Queen,
 
 DE WYRHALE. 101 
 
 LIT. 
 
 At whose command access they sought that hour, — 
 Fast by was one in helm and hauberk dight, 
 
 Who held the sword of delegated power 
 
 O'er the brave troop, their sovereign's guard that night. 
 
 Soon at his bidding calmed the alarm is o'er — 
 And first obeisance low that steel-clad wight 
 
 Paid courteously — then silent he precedes, 
 
 Beckoning the Knight to follow where he leads. 
 
 LIII. 
 
 Soon ushered in the presence, on the knee 
 
 They fall with reverence meet, nor raise 
 Rashly the wondering eye their Queen to see ; 
 
 Who fixing on their features her keen gaze 
 Heeds not, perusing each one silently, 
 
 How glanced their steel points in the torches' blaze. 
 Fast by the Queen in armour dight, a fair 
 And comely youth appeared ; 'twas England's heir. - 
 
 M
 
 162 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 LIV. 
 
 Sudden the Queen for speech unclosed her lips — 
 And Anjou's blood a warmer stream fast poured 
 
 From its high source, where dauntless courage keeps 
 Its court in Margaret's bosom, at the word. 
 
 As shines in heaven the moon, from brief eclipse 
 To all her native brilliancy restored, 
 
 So from the shade shot forth serene the glow, 
 
 Late dimmed by thought, of her majestic brow. 
 
 LV. 
 
 " 'Tis well De Wyrhale, nor ourselves are loth, 
 For memory fails us not, this day to approve 
 
 Of this thy tale of wonder. — Gentle youth, 
 We owe thee for thy father's sake much love, 
 
 And will requite in thee his worth, and troth, 
 So heaven defend the throne, and far remove 
 
 The pest of treason from the groaning land, 
 
 And with the sword of vengeance arm our hand.
 
 DE WYRHALE. 163 
 
 LVI. 
 
 ' Yes ! in thy lineaments our eyes review, 
 Our soul recalls past days of dole, and death. — 
 
 Thy valorous sire where fierce the battle grew, 
 
 Through mail-clad hosts mowed aye a murderous path : 
 
 He was our arm of vengeance, — tried, and true 
 To wreak our will ; sure engine of our wrath, — 
 
 So found the slaughtered sire of York's base brood 
 
 On Wakefield plain at cost of his heart's blood." 
 
 LVII. 
 
 Then turned she to the Prince her full orbed eve. 
 And thus pursued—" My son ! England's sole heir 
 
 And hope ! the hour of our revenge draws nigh ; 
 Speed we — for fast the precious moments wear. 
 
 Kneel Clifford, gird this day upon thy thigh, 
 A Red-rose knight thy steel for Lancaster — 
 
 Son of our royal heart a boon confer, 
 
 And on his youthful heel bind fast the spur." 
 
 m 2
 
 164 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 LVIII. 
 
 Then bowed the Prince, and straight on Osric's heel 
 Buckled the spur of gold, and Osric knelt, 
 
 Lord Clifford knelt bedight in martial steel ; 
 The Prince his goodly sword, to the rich belt 
 
 Appended, quickly drew, and the last seal 
 Of knighthood fair, a gentle blow he dealt 
 
 Upon Lord Clifford's neck, and hailed the youth 
 
 'Sir Knight,' and pledged to fealty and truth. 
 
 LIX. 
 
 " Fellow in arms, in blooming years compeer!" 
 Graceful he spake — " be mindful that thy sire • 
 
 Thou bear in mind when thou thy sword shalt rear, 
 And the stern hour of combat wakes thy fire — 
 
 But turn not from the feeble suppliant's prayer : — 
 Oh when the vanquished sue, repress thine ire ; — 
 
 In war be thou as Britain's Lion brave, 
 
 Gentle, when lovely Peace her wand shall wave." —
 
 DE WYRHALE. 165 
 
 LX. 
 
 " 1 sigh for peace my country's wounds to heal, 
 I mourn my captive sire, the anointed King 
 
 Of merry England erst — ere rebel steel 
 
 Made grove and glade, city and desert ring 
 
 With groans, and unto woe had changed our weal- 
 May Heaven this day extend a favouring wing, 
 
 And all good Saints inspire thee for the fight — 
 
 And join our shout for ' Harry, and the right !' 
 
 LXI. 
 
 " Clifford go forth, and may God give thee grace 
 To be the prow est knight of hosts that meet 
 
 In this dire hour of strife, — go prove thy race 
 
 By thy good sword, when valiant heaits quick beat, 
 
 And valour copes with valour face to face ; — 
 
 Loud be thy shout, St. George and Margaret!" — 
 
 He spake ; the Queen attended answer none, — 
 
 But waved her hand ; so bade the knights begone.
 
 166 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 LXII. 
 
 Fleet they retrace their steps — Emotion vast 
 O'erwhelmed astonied Osric — dreams athwart 
 
 His fancy's eye in bright perspective passed : 
 Fiercely propelled the blood his bounding heart, 
 
 And o'er his air a joyous thriumph cast, 
 
 As trophies won across his view quick dart — 
 
 Sir Jenkyn's breast the warm infection caught — 
 
 Though all within his soul was prey to thought. 
 
 LXIII. 
 
 " Away where honour calls," at length he cries, 
 
 " But lodge within thy breast thy friend's command 
 
 If He, whose sovereign will controls the skies, 
 Shall Henry's upright cause this day withstand ; 
 
 And merciless Edward wear the crown his prize, 
 Hie to the refuge, where, in northern land, 
 
 Long time thou braved'st his wrath ; heaven's anger yet 
 
 Shall of his bloody house exact the debt,
 
 DE WYRHALE. 167 
 
 LXIV. 
 
 " And tardy vengeance crush the usurper's pride — 
 Till happier hour be thy stern wrath repressed. 
 
 List yet — if 'whelmed, this day, beneath the tide 
 Of adverse fortune, death shall be my rest 
 
 From life's rude tempests, thy affection tried 
 Must bear to Rosabelle my last bequest, 
 
 Dyed in my true heart's blood the scarf she wove, 
 
 Pledge of her plighted faith and gentle love. 
 
 LXV. 
 
 " Tell her 't was bliss in ebbing life's last hour 
 To know on earth that there were heavenly eyes 
 
 That should embalm my memory, and pour 
 Such lucid pearls as love alone supplies 
 
 To wail my doom ; and breathe such incense o'er 
 As well shall seem the breath of purer skies, 
 
 To sooth the spirit of her own true Knight, 
 
 Which aye shall hover near in death's despite.
 
 168 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 LXVI. 
 
 " Tell her the life I prize, the life I grieve 
 
 To exchange for that, which this beyond compare 
 
 Transcends in blessedness, 'twere joy to leave 
 Were not a haven of fair hope still here — 
 
 If impious be the thought, just heaven forgive, 
 Which granted me the boon, her love to share, 
 
 And wreathed me round with its resistless charm — 
 
 But speed we to our post — hark, hark the alarm !" 
 
 LXVII. 
 
 He spake, and loud was heard the trumpet jar, 
 The note of preparation, a keen blast — 
 
 Horrisonous, portending deeds shall mar 
 
 Thy beauteous face, oh Albion ! pale, aghast 
 
 Thou view'st thy blood-besprinkled children war 
 With strife unnatural — whilst heaven o'ercast 
 
 With dusky mourning, o'er the deathful fray 
 
 Hangs the dense cloud, and veils the face of day.
 
 DE WYRHALE. 169 
 
 LXVIII. 
 
 Where God thine unextinguishable levin 
 
 To work thy will than the winged blast more fleet? 
 
 Ah ! where delays the thunderbolt of heaven, 
 When kindred hot for kindred slaughter meet ? 
 
 Why angry earth by throes convulsive riven, 
 Yawn not thine awful chasms beneath their feet, 
 
 When blood-red Murder o'er the reeking plain 
 
 Unfettered stalks, and riots midst the slain ? 
 
 LXIX. 
 
 As when pent vapours in the vast womb bred, 
 
 Of stored volcano by the hand of God, 
 Mingled with heat in league mysterious spread, 
 
 New modified their limits all abroad ; 
 Earth heaves parturient ; sounds as thunder dread 
 
 Proclaim her throes, and evil hour forebode : 
 From each vast cone, re-ehoing oft, is heard 
 The wrath of thunders far beneath upstirred.
 
 170 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 LXX. 
 
 Then reel those cloud-swathed summits, which aspire 
 Unto the stars upreared right fearlessly 
 
 Each tapering apex, and beneath the ire, 
 Totter of Deity ; athwart the sky 
 
 In volumes pitchy steam uprolls, and fire 
 Quick gleaming flashes ; far upshot on high 
 
 A blazing deluge bounds, and smouldering tides 
 
 Of molten ruin cleave the mountain's sides. 
 
 LXXI. 
 
 Ah ! such is civil discord ; e'en so rends 
 
 The body politic the unnatural rage 
 Of Man against his fellow : so descends 
 
 From heaven in anger on a guilty age 
 Destruction swift ; then might with right contends, 
 
 And force is law, and honour cozenage, 
 Degree untuned, and social order vexed, 
 Affection's tics unknit, and hope perplexed.
 
 DE WYRHALE. 171 
 
 LXXII. 
 
 Now is the lance, the sword, a fearful game 
 Engaging — fiery steel with steel contending, 
 
 High brandished, and a mimic lightning flame 
 Far o'er the field of sanguine horror lending ; 
 
 Now is each ear to the full blast of fame 
 
 Attuned, whilst shouts and groans to heaven ascending 
 
 Thick as the sands in Afric's wastes arise, 
 
 When sweeps the wild simoom Zaara's skies. 
 
 LXXIII. 
 
 In that fierce hour were hearts with high hopes swelled 
 Of honours, riches, proud distinction ; stung 
 
 With hate resentful, with revenge impelled 
 
 For griefs, had long the wounded bosom wrung 
 
 Yet unappeased, and anger yet unquelled. 
 Before each eye on Memory's tablet sprung, 
 
 Feature of slaughtered sire, or son portrayed, 
 
 And rage and rancour edged the warrior's blade.
 
 172 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 LXXIV. 
 
 There gorgeously arrayed appears the flower 
 Of Albion's chivalry ; each barbed steed, 
 
 Warm for the melee, in the trying hour 
 
 Of fierce assault, springs with the lightning's speed ; 
 
 Pierced with the spur, that wakes his utmost power, 
 He tramples on the dying and the dead — 
 
 Lances are shivered, knights upturned, around 
 
 With spoils of horse and horseman gleams the ground. 
 
 LXXV. 
 
 The murderous battle-axe, and ponderous maule 
 
 Burst helm and head, scattering the late pent brain ; 
 
 Gisarm and martel's sweeping sway and fall, 
 
 Heap cumbered Earth with harvests of the slain ; 
 
 Harsh sword- clash and shrill armour-clank appal 
 The affrighted ear, and deafen the scared plain, — 
 
 Whilst o'er the hosts a death-winged arrowy shower, 
 
 From sounding bows unerring archers pour,
 
 DE WYRHALE. 173 
 
 LXXVT. 
 
 And on their ears strikes frequent a loud roar, 
 That apes the thunder's voice, by Echo's tongue 
 
 From every salient angle o'er and o'er 
 Reverberated oft ; whilst whistling sung 
 
 From iron mouths discharged, a deathful store 
 Of leaden vengeance the dense ranks among 
 
 Of Lancaster ; invention damned, bestowed 
 
 On evil man by an offended God. 
 
 LXXVII. 
 
 Unpractised yet the gunner played his part, 
 
 But where the mark he reached, his deathful aim 
 
 A fearful havoc spread ; with fruitless art 
 
 Had cunning armourer tempered in the flame 
 
 Steel pectoral, that braved the sword or dart, 
 
 And cuish and greave ; at once o'erwhelming came, 
 
 By more than human art propelled, a flood 
 
 Of ponderous metal showered, that armies mowed.
 
 174 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 LXXVIII. 
 
 Mark ye the scene of war ? o'er those behind 
 Rampart and fosse, safe in its sheltering aid, 
 
 The Red-rose standard flaps upon the wind ; 
 
 Whilst these the deep-drawn trench that rush to invade 
 
 With headlong fury onward, brave and blind 
 
 Wield for the rose of York their well-clutched blade. 
 
 Ha ! 'tis a fearful sight that awful strife, 
 
 Dire contest waged for honour, fame, and life. 
 
 LXXIX. 
 
 See, see — across the reeking field upborne, 
 Yon chieftain on his steed — swift as the light, 
 
 Barded, caparisoned ; around him worn, 
 
 Refulgent shines with gold and crimson bright 
 
 His surcoat richly blazoned ; plumes adorn 
 The steel-capped temples of that lofty knight ; 
 
 At distance left his armed and anxious train 
 
 Ply the keen spur, and shake the loosened rein.
 
 DE WYRHALE. 175 
 
 LXXX. 
 
 And high aloft, his banner fair, exalt, 
 
 The boar, for Gloster's duke ; this day he leads 
 
 King Edward's vaward host ; this day the assault 
 Impels, and prompts to more than wonted deeds ; 
 
 At his command high o'er the trench they vault, 
 Lithe as the roebuck ; long the battle bleeds 
 
 With fury there, right deperate : the slain 
 
 Fill the vast fosse, and level with the plain. 
 
 LXXXI. 
 
 Sudden his stern command that long impelled 
 The conflict, stays its rage ; — the leader's care 
 
 Is his ; — the wrath each gallant heart that swelled, 
 And urged to fruitless daring, rending the air, 
 
 His loud controlling voice hath checked, and quelled ;- 
 And lo ! his dauntless hosts the assault forbear. — 
 
 Mindful of practised discipline, their ire 
 
 They quench perforce, and at command retire.
 
 176 DE WYRHALK. 
 
 LXXXII. 
 
 As when fierce fires with riot unrestrained 
 Triumphant blaze, and the aspiring flame 
 
 Hath summit tall of some proud dome attained, 
 And shrieks are heard, and loud laments proclaim 
 
 Excess of woe, — where joy perchance late reigned, 
 Midst cry of frantic mothers, and shrill scream 
 
 Of infant helplessness ; whilst clouds on high 
 
 Upspringing with dark masses veil the sky ; 
 
 LXXXIII. 
 
 And from the kindled pile an hateful glare 
 Is poured, — dire compensation ! human aid 
 
 And active energy, and vigour bear 
 
 From distant brook collected streams conveyed ; 
 
 Urged by mechanic skill through yielding air 
 
 A torrent springs, and straight the fiend is stayed ! 
 
 So doth the Duke's command o'er that red plain, 
 
 Curb the fierce struggle with resistless rein.
 
 DE fYRHALE 
 
 Canto v.
 
 Oh ! how her eyes and tears did lend and borrow, 
 Her eyes seen in her tears, tears in her eye ; 
 
 Both crystals where they viewed each other's sorrow, 
 Sorrow that friendly sighs sought still to dry ; 
 
 But like a stormy day, now wind, now rain, 
 
 Sighs dry her cheeks, tears make them wet again. 
 
 Shaksfeare.
 
 DE WYRH ALE'S MONUMENT. 
 
 I. 
 
 Wealth, pomp, and power, the creature's fond pursuit, 
 Lust of the eye, and ear, and baser sense, 
 
 Indulgence teeming with forbidden fruit, 
 Ever in view, object of appetence 
 
 Insatiate, though alas ! the baneful root 
 
 Of ills unnumbered, and of woes intense — 
 
 How hold ye fast the captive mind in thrall ! — 
 
 Lo ! warning heaven bids man renounce them all. 
 
 n 2
 
 180 DF, WYRHALE. 
 
 TI. 
 
 What, all that with hright colours tempts the eye, 
 All with persuasive tones that wins the ear, 
 
 All that the taste invites, unwise, deny, 
 
 All the sweet fragrance of the flowering year, 
 
 All that can soothe the touch, or gratify, 
 
 All that can give our life a zest whilst here ? — 
 
 'Tis even thus — hark, hark, to heaven's loud call, 
 
 Whose awful warning bids renounce them all. 
 
 III. 
 
 Away vain babbler — did the Almighty hand 
 
 That moulded fair, and stamped the plastic clay 
 
 And made us that we are, and wisely planned 
 Things as they be, that we might all survey 
 
 With pleasure, with delight embrace, command 
 At will, and thankless shall we turn away ? 
 
 Who placed us here mid fairy scenes to dwell ? — 
 
 Who placed us here P — 't was God. — Ah no ! we fell,
 
 DE WYRHALE. 181 
 
 IV. 
 
 Fell from the appointed heaven in which we were, 
 Amidst perennial flowers of countless dyes, 
 
 The cherished object of his tenderest care 
 
 Whose voice we heard, ev'n His, who framed the skies ; 
 
 Which in soft breathings heard on the ambient air, 
 Whispered man's spirit in familiar guise, 
 
 And with pure wisdom purged the visual ray, 
 
 And o'er the soul diffused a boundless day. 
 
 Man, union rare of matter and of mind, 
 Of unseen spirit and substantial dust, 
 
 Alive to sensual joys, to heavenly blind, 
 The slave of earthly passion, earthly lust, 
 
 Because remote dost thou no beauty find 
 
 In the pure hope which taints nor moth, nor rust 1 
 
 Weeps not thy spirit pent in its dull clay 
 
 Like the caged dove that sighs to flee away,
 
 18*2 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 VI. 
 
 But all around a wiry hindrance sees, 
 
 Which bars its progress to the distant hill, 
 
 How fair to view ! with verdure clad, where breeze, 
 Sweet sunshine, and soft shade, and silvery rill, 
 
 Delicious fruits, and flowers, and balmy skies 
 Her breast with ardent aspirations fill 
 
 To reach on her light wing that haven blest, 
 
 And be, at length, transporting thought, at rest ? 
 
 VII. 
 
 Ah if within mortality's dark veil 
 
 Thy senses hold thee fast, and wisdom none 
 
 Thou hast thy spell-bound helplessness to wail, 
 
 But dreamest of heavens by Macon's votaries won, 
 
 Rare paradise of fools ! and lovest the tale 
 Of feasts, and Houris that attend thereon, 
 
 Fresh odours, soothing down, rich savours ever, 
 
 Eye, ear entranced with joys, yet satiate never, —
 
 DE WYRHALE. 183 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Oh pause in thought upon that doleful streight, 
 
 Where thou must win thy toilsome passage through, 
 
 At thy life's cost, ere thou may est reach the gate 
 Of boundless scope beyond ! what eye can view 
 
 Unscared, what heart unmoved await 
 
 Life's awful term, what cheek with unblenched hue ? 
 
 Time's measured step still moves towards his prey, 
 
 Fast fails the strength, and fades the frame away, 
 
 IX. 
 
 And he pursues thee till the grave receive, 
 
 Till all thy substance vanish, the wind's sport 
 
 In part disperse, in part through heaven's vault drive 
 Thin vapour, late compressed in wondrous sort 
 
 And passible. — Yet is there that shall live, 
 Nor matter cloud perception, nor distort 
 
 Its view distinct ; shall seek its home on high, 
 
 Far, far away removed from human eye. —
 
 184 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 X. 
 
 And shall we give our substance to the wind, 
 And hence to unseen regions quick repair, 
 
 A nothing — something ? — or again combined 
 With matter, such as the earthly garb we wear, 
 
 Revisit scenes where once we wont to find 
 Our hopes alluring, and our prospects fair ? 
 
 And see, and hear, and feel as now we feel, 
 
 And with quick sense distinguish woe from weal ? 
 
 XI. 
 
 Thinkest thou the spirit of its cumbrance freed 
 Shall writhe once more beneath the galling chain 
 
 Of guilty passions linked, — once more shall feed 
 On perishable joys when from its bane 
 
 Its carnal trammel rescued hence it speed, 
 
 And madly seek its prison-house again ? — 
 What then is death ? — a moment's pang, a leap 
 
 From earth to heaven, or a long age of sleep ?
 
 DE WYRHALE. 185 
 
 XII. 
 
 Grant it were sleep — it were a slumber gone, 
 As in an instant gone. We shall not count 
 
 The lapse of hours through ages one by one, 
 
 Till lingering time hath summed their whole amount. — 
 
 No, 't is a dreamless night whose sand is run, 
 Ere we can mark the escape and ponder on't. 
 
 The sun shall rise which shall arouse the tomb, 
 
 And we shall wake to life, and hear our doom, 
 
 XIII. 
 
 As we uplift our eyes amazed. Oh then, 
 
 Whilst yet heaven's awful thunders rend the spheres, 
 And yawning graves pour forth astonied men 
 
 Countless as in the firmament the stars, 
 Shall the dry bone be robed in flesh again : — 
 
 See ! earth, and all of earth we loved, appears 
 A worthless retrospective — pomp, and power, 
 And wealth, and fame, what are ye in that hour !
 
 186 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Reflecting minds have aye been prone to weigh 
 The conflict waged the heart's recess within ; 
 
 And with keen eye intuitive survey, 
 
 How sinks the spirit dimmed, depressed, where sin 
 
 Or Ariman, or Satan hold the sway, 
 
 And baser matter doth the mastery win : 
 
 So schooled the Magian, and so sought for good 
 
 Brahmin, and Bonze, and votary of Bhood. 
 
 XV. 
 
 Oh, ever in extreme ! wild frenzy hence 
 Drave to the desert in distempered mood 
 
 To cave obscure in age, and impotence 
 The shrunken votary : self-infliction rude 
 
 And frantic which to quell the rebel sense 
 
 With torture hoped, and quench in tears of blood ! 
 
 In Misraim's sandy waste the infection bred, 
 
 Far o'er the Western world its venom spread.
 
 DE WYRHALE. 187 
 
 XVI 
 
 And here where now with fostering wings the Sun 
 Of knowledge, bright with Truth's enkindling beams, 
 
 Hath taught the enlightened mind the pest to shun, 
 Bantling of Superstition's baseless dreams, 
 
 Since that undying Wickliffe pored upon 
 
 God's word revealed, and wide diffused the streams 
 
 Of light and life, even here, the noxious bane 
 
 Usurped the enthusiast and debased the man. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 And many a pile arose in solitude 
 
 And silence, many a dark and cheerless cell, 
 
 The haunt of loneliness, where hearts would brood 
 'Midst gloom, which should each rebel thought repel, 
 
 Might break upon their melancholy mood, 
 
 And calm the force of passion's restless swell : 
 
 Deeming the self-devotion service done, 
 
 A world subdued, a heaven in triumph won.
 
 188 DE WYRHALE, 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Ah, ill do they obey the precept given 
 
 To fly the world's allurements light and vain 
 
 Who court its pains, and think thereby yon heaven 
 Where all is free from misery to gain. 
 
 'T is earthly reputation, baleful leaven, 
 
 With intumescent heavings works the brain, 
 
 Till fancy reigns unfettered and no more 
 
 Controlling reason dare exert her power. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Yet oft the ponderous wall of gloomy zeal, 
 In the cold shade of bigotry the slave 
 
 Of rigid rule, which held, where the shrill bell 
 Vesper or matin from that living grave 
 
 Of moving life therein was wont to tell, 
 
 llath spread a portal wide and prompt to save. — 
 
 Age hath fled thitherward, and found repose 
 
 Far from the world's annoy at life's late close.
 
 DE WYRHAI.E. 189 
 
 XX. 
 
 Asylum there from force and fraud and wrong, 
 And grinding tyranny, the oppressed have found ; 
 
 The feehle from the fury of the strong 
 
 Balm for their woe, and medicine for their wound. - 
 
 Then seek St. Mary's walls my plaintive song, 
 Where holily each awful cell around 
 
 Ave-Maria's poured in suppliant note 
 
 Upon the bosom of the still air float. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 For there is Rosabelle, a lily bowed 
 
 By sultry summer's gush of vapours shed 
 
 From its dark storehouse, the dense watery cloud, 
 Wildly are strewed the honours of her head, 
 
 Lovely, and desolate ; nor deep nor loud 
 
 Were heard her sighs, yet fast her bosom bled, 
 
 As with a fixed interminable gaze, 
 
 A blood-stained scarf intently she surveyed.
 
 190 PE WYRHALE. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 Her brow upon her left-hand propped, she sate, 
 Her elbow fixed upon her tremulous knee, 
 
 Not querulously wailing her hard fate ; 
 
 Wondering she seemed how such sad things should be, 
 
 A Niobe of fierce Latona's hate, 
 Draining the very dregs of misery ; 
 
 Or in her Byblian fane Astarte throned, 
 
 In breathing marble graved as she bemoaned 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 In speechless sorrow Thammuz' annual wound, 
 Where each returning year Orontes glowed, 
 
 'Neath Libanus, with cedar forests crowned, 
 A crimson stream red with the hunter's blood ; 
 
 And of Phoenice's daughters the shrill sound 
 
 Pierced grove and glade and wide re-echoing wood, 
 
 Provoking heaven, what time the new-born moon, 
 
 Through the chill dews of evening faintly shone.
 
 DE WYRHALE. 191 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 Near Rosabelle there stood a white-robed dame, 
 
 Whose lucid sorrow in sweet sympathy- 
 Fast fell, though much she strove to check its stream ; 
 
 Yet sorely wept she still the grief to see, 
 And, ever and anon, with soothing aim 
 
 She spake a word of comfort falteringly 
 In whispered tone, lest she the thread should break 
 Of his discourse the grate beyond who spake. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 For there a martial youth with anguish bowed, 
 Whose hair was moist with toil, and o'er his front 
 
 And cheek embrowned with dust neglected flowed, 
 As he of wearying war had long the brunt 
 
 Stoutly maintained, holding his basnet stood ; 
 And many a briny tear had dropped upon 't : 
 
 'T was Osric's self whose labouring heart was full, 
 
 And his lack lustre-eye all dimmed, and dull.
 
 192 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 Now on the cross-barred iron his faint head 
 He pressed ; for lie had told of that dread field 
 
 Where he had dyed his maiden sword blood-red, 
 
 With those in death's dark trade more deeply skilled, 
 
 And how De Wyrhale to his charge conveyed 
 
 The sword, and armed his hands with lance and shield, 
 
 How Gloucester's rude assault they dared defy, 
 
 And bade perforce the princely chieftain fly ; 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 And how De Beaufort leaped to the pursuit, 
 
 As from his host selected a brave band 
 Swiftly he marshalled, gallant horse and foot, 
 
 Stout hearts for Somerset, at his command, 
 Or to sure death or victory devote ; 
 
 How their defiance shook the quivering strand ; 
 " De Beaufort, a De Beaufort!" was their cry, 
 And the loud shout rang echoing round the sky.
 
 DE WYRHALE. 193 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 When panther and portcullis, banner fair 
 
 Of Somerset they raised, which he of Gaunt 
 
 Trophies in arms had won in glorious war : 
 Brave fiery Somerset, the hope, the vaunt 
 
 Of Margaret, and king-crowned Lancaster ; 
 He led them forth, that heart of adamant, 
 
 Last prop of sinking Henry's sceptred power, 
 
 He led them forth in that soul-stirring hour. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 And here had Osric paused ; his bosom tossed 
 
 With vast emotion respite craved — a sigh 
 The white-robed dame drew deep, and straightway crossed 
 
 Devout her breast, and upwards cast her eye. 
 Nor long the youth bewailed in musing lost, 
 
 Like the grieved stork, its broken social tie : 
 Big with the deeds which memory reviewed, 
 He oped his lips, and thus his tale renewed. 
 
 o
 
 194 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 " Swift sprang we forth, De Beaufort led the way, 
 Blythe hope inspiring each warm heart to join, 
 
 Impetuous Somerset thy choice array 
 
 Of Red-rose warriors in their high design. 
 
 Onward we pressed exulting, whilst the play 
 
 Of steel-glance sparkled in our armour-shine ; — 
 
 And through the portal passed our martial train, 
 
 As Gloucester's host retreating leave the plain. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 " But as their main dense mass retire afoot, 
 Horsemen and horse repel our quick advance, 
 
 Where our brave knights push forward in pursuit, 
 Joyous in confidence, and charge with lance. 
 
 Well was their rearward guarded, resolute, 
 Commingling frequently, the dubious chance 
 
 Of single combat waging many a knight 
 
 To valorous knight opposed maintained the fight.
 
 L)E WYRHALE. 195 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 " Then did the hot blood in these veins fast boil ; 
 
 Then was mine eager eye upon the strain, 
 To note the prompt advance, the alert recoil, 
 
 The dexterous stroke, the address that rendered vain 
 Its skill, quick interposed the blow to foil ; 
 
 Then gave I to my fiery steed the rein, 
 Burning with strong desire, or speedily 
 To win a deathless trophy or to die. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 " For I had marked where one of dauntless mien, 
 Champion of the White-rose, gaily moved 
 
 Upon his bounding war-horse, in that scene 
 Of chivalry conspicuous most, and proved 
 
 His martial worth, the warring hosts between, 
 By matchless prowess in the cause he loved. 
 
 Oh ! thrice with deadly aim a tilt he ran, 
 
 Thrice on the field upturned lay horse and man." — 
 
 o2
 
 196 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 Here dropped the lofty tone that youth, and changed 
 To milder strain, compassionate and kind ; 
 
 As from the bloody field of contest ranged, 
 To pitying thought his gentle breast inclined. 
 
 Nor had the work of death his heart estranged, 
 Nor 'gainst the tears of beauty seared his mind ; 
 
 But as he still pursued, he heaved a groan 
 
 Of anguish keen for other than his own. 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 " Ere to the war at brave De Wyrhale's side 
 
 I rushed, hear thou the charge his lip expressed ; 
 
 ' If doomed,' said he ' to sink beneath the tide 
 Of Edward's fortune, death shall be my rest 
 
 From life's rude tempests, thy affection tried, 
 Must bear to Rosabelle my last bequest, 
 
 Dyed in my true heart's blood ; the scarf she wove, 
 
 Pledge of her plighted faith, and troth, and love.
 
 DE WYRHALE. 197 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 " ' Tell her 'twas bliss in ebbing life's last hour 
 To know, on earth that there were heavenly eyes 
 
 That should embalm my memory, and shower 
 Such lucid pearl as love alone supplies 
 
 To wail my doom, and breathe such incense o'er 
 As well may seem the balm of purer skies, 
 
 To soothe the spirit of her own true Knight, 
 
 Which aye shall hover near in death's despite. 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 " ' Tell her the life I prize, the life I grieve 
 
 To exchange for that, which this beyond compare 
 
 Excels in blessedness, 'twere joy to leave, 
 
 Were not my haven of sweet hope still here. — 
 
 If impious be the thought kind heaven forgive, 
 Which granted me the boon, her love to share ; 
 
 And wound me round with its resistless charm', — 
 
 My errand's sped, — the scarf is on thine arm."
 
 198 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 Then upwards looked the Lady Rosabelle 
 And with a glassy gaze her eyes' pure glance, 
 
 Which swam in tremulous dew, on Osric fell 
 With such an anxious look, as they, perchance, 
 
 Blest spirits, with high Omnipotence who dwell 
 Of supplication wear, which utterance 
 
 Makes poor indeed, when they to earth below 
 
 Direct a thought, and muse on human woe. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 That speechless prayer — what language may portray 
 Its more than sweetest eloquence, its strain 
 
 Of mute persuasive lore that seemed to say, 
 " Give, give me that thy charity would fain, 
 
 Oh 't is not charity ! withhold ; — Away 
 With killing courtesy, bestowed in vain. 
 
 Though deep, and keen thou wound, pursue the tale 
 
 Ere I be senseless stone, and life's stream fail."
 
 DE WYRHALE. 199 
 
 XL. 
 
 O'er Osric's frame so rushed the mastering flow 
 
 Of overwhelming memory, that he stood 
 All motionless and mute ; the mighty woe 
 Arrested the warm current of his blood 
 Which in his veins seemed chill as melting snow, 
 
 With downcast eye, and fixed and pensive mood 
 The youth appeared as if by spell fast bound, 
 Nor breathed his quivering lip, nor sigh, nor sound. 
 
 XLI. 
 
 Full oft in silence there's a respite sweet ; 
 
 It gives to sorrow's course a moment's stay, 
 Assuaging when with throbs the pulses beat 
 
 Like oil on troubled waters their rude fray : 
 As is a pause to the tired pilgrim's feet, 
 
 Enjoyed short space, ere he resume his way ; 
 Such balm hath silence for the man of woes — 
 'T is to the tortured heart a brief repose.
 
 200 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 XLII. 
 
 And Rosabelle was mute ; a palsying dread 
 Held utterance enchained ; a feeble gleam 
 
 Of hope, though frail and fugitive, still shed 
 Faint light, as is the dying taper's beam 
 
 By the poor wanderer tremblingly surveyed 
 Lost amid labyrinthine tracks, extreme 
 
 Of agony ! in quarry or dark mine 
 
 Entombed, where ray of heaven may never shine. 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 But oh ! the harassed mind must grasp its whole 
 Wide range of sorrow — else 't is fancy borne 
 
 Upon a sea of troubles, where the soul 
 Is all bewildered : as the light prow shorn 
 
 Of her tall masts dreads more the secret shoal 
 
 Than the rough winds that have her canvass torn, 
 
 Or ocean's waves that yawn her hope to whelm — 
 
 The unseen, the unknown bids reason quit the helm.
 
 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 201 
 
 " Spare, spare me not," at length the mourner said, 
 " Thine errand ends not here ; De Wyrhale's arm 
 
 Knew none its equal when with death he played — 
 Hah, treachery be sure hath wrought the harm, — 
 
 Speak Osric ! how encompassed, how betrayed, 
 Whilst yet the current of my life runs warm, 
 
 And I have ear to hear, or sense to weigh 
 
 The hideous sounds ? — who dared De Wyrhale slay ? 
 
 XLV. 
 
 " Are there not spirits on the winds who fly 
 Throughout created nature, of His will 
 
 Ineffable who reigns supreme, most high, 
 By myriads ministers, of good and ill 
 
 Dispensers, children of eternity, 
 
 Studious heaven's awful mandates who fulfil, 
 
 Omnipresent, who watch, dispose, array, — 
 
 Oh, when De Wyrhale fell, where, where were they ?"
 
 202 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 She ceased — then spake the dame in white arrayed 
 Whose features wore calm piety's meek trace, 
 
 As she the cross, with awe impressed, surveyed 
 Which hung the guardian of her bosom's peace : 
 
 " Now Jesu help thee daughter dear," she said, 
 " And holy Virgin shower on thee sweet grace, 
 
 For who beside shall soothing aid bestow, 
 
 Who mingle balm in thy sharp cup of woe ! 
 
 XL VII. 
 
 " Alike, it hath been mine the dregs to drain 
 
 Of keen-toothed anguish, to the dust bowed low 
 
 By evil destiny : I too in vain 
 
 From morn till eve have wailed my grief, aloud ; 
 
 There was no balm that could assuage my pain, 
 No hope shot ray through sorrow's dreary cloud ; 
 
 Till that mine eyes, when comfort earth had none, 
 
 Looked to the hills whence comes our hope alone.
 
 DE WYRHALE. 203 
 
 XLVTII. 
 
 " Heaven was my refuge, when to these lone cells 
 I fled, where Meditation haunts, retired 
 
 From the world's prying gaze ; where praise upswells 
 From the pure lip by saintly themes inspired, 
 
 Solemn, and soothing ; and religion quells 
 Grief's murmur in submission's garb attired. 
 
 Ah Theofrid ! mine honoured kinsman, thou 
 
 Didst bid me here breathe forth the sacred vow, 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 " A spouse of God ; thou, who hadst learned to fly 
 From the world's promises, of grief the prey 
 
 Which solace knew not — for thine hollow eye 
 
 Was dimmed with tears no friendly help could stay 
 
 No summer's glowing hour might ever dry, 
 Or gild thy hope with one heart-soothing ray, 
 
 Since dire result of civil feud, thy glaive 
 
 On him, whom life thou gavest, bestowed a grave.
 
 204 DE WYKHALE. 
 
 " Here hath my heart the sisterhood among 
 The white robed daughters of devotion clung, 
 
 The world forgot, to hope, soothed by the song 
 Of Sion, as from pious lips it sprung 
 
 To heaven on high with faith and fervour strong, 
 Whilst arch and vaulted roof hath thrilled and rung 
 
 With quivering vibration, as the sound 
 
 Curled upwards, column tall, and shaft around. 
 
 LI. 
 
 " Speak youth ! for I do charge thee, curb the throe 
 Of bitterness, with which thy bosom heaves 
 
 Convulsive, and whose keen pang rends thee so : 
 Speak quickly, for thy silence but bereaves 
 
 The mourner of poor solace, and bids woe, 
 
 Vile weed ! more rankly push its thorny leaves." — 
 
 Then raised his face, that grieving youth to view, 
 
 Pale as the primrose, wet with moontide dew.
 
 DE WYRHALE. '205 
 
 LII. 
 
 But soon again as he his speech resumed, 
 Bright animation from his eye shot glance, 
 
 Big with the thoughts that memory relumed ; — 
 So shakes the snake away his wintery trance 
 
 That late his life and energy benumbed, 
 
 When burning Phoebus bids his steeds advance, 
 
 Where Cancer glows beneath his fiery rays, 
 
 And on man's head descends their fiercest blaze. 
 
 Lin. 
 
 " In evil hour," so spake the youth, " I burned 
 To do a deed should wreathe with fame my brow ; 
 
 Should tame that haughty knight who thrice had turned 
 And thrice had laid his venturous foeman low ; 
 
 And as his arm the reeking laurel earned 
 
 With vaunt and menace followed each brave blow, 
 
 And waved his radiant sword with high disdain, 
 
 As his proud war-horse trampled the red plain.
 
 206 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 LIV. 
 
 " Sudden I brake from forth the vaward host, 
 Ere yet in fray each steeled array commixed ; 
 
 And back the loud presumptuous vaunt I tossed, 
 And rushed at once the threatening strife betwixt, 
 
 And grasped the shield with stud and nail embossed, 
 And griping held the lance in rest firm fixed, 
 
 And with collected vigour aimed the blow, 
 
 And with loud voice and gesture hailed the foe. 
 
 LV. 
 
 "And with the spur woke fury in my steed; — 
 Rude anger urged me onward to the essay, 
 
 And ardent dream of high heroic deed, 
 
 And thirst unquenched to give to vengeance way ; 
 
 Vengeance for slaughtered victims death decreed, 
 Yet unexacted in the Roses' fray 
 
 And Henry's holy cause — all, all gave force, 
 
 That headlong o'er the fields impelled my course.
 
 DE WYRHALE. 207 
 
 LVI. 
 
 " Fleet as the hunted ostrich skims the plain, 
 His furious course my snorting war-horse sped, 
 
 And beat with sounding tramp the green champaign ; 
 When suddenly a feathered cloud there fell 
 
 From hostile bows discharged, an arrowy rain 
 Of shafts death freighted arching o'er my head ; 
 
 Which struck their ominous notes upon my ear, 
 
 As whistling like the gales they traversed near, 
 
 LVII. 
 
 " Or clanking lit upon my helm and shield 
 
 Innoxious, far rebounding, as upsprings 
 Rebutted hail by the smote rock repelled ; 
 
 Frequent my pelted buckler loudly rings, 
 And firmly o'er my brow with care upheld, 
 
 Of temper proof a sure protection flings : 
 But oh my barb, my barb ! that luckless day 
 Fate urged a shaft that quenched thy visual ray,
 
 208 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 LVIII. 
 
 " And to the brain urged on its unchecked course — 
 Nor speeds the lightning bolt, by the arm of Jove 
 
 From high Olympus hurled, with deadlier force, 
 Than that fell dart the quivering bow-thong drove : 
 
 Upon the ground fell prone the death-struck horse ; — 
 Ah ! there with fruitless toil the horseman strove, 
 
 To quit the cumberance of his prostrate steed, 
 
 And succour seemed there none in the hour of need. 
 
 LIX. 
 
 " As one oppressed in vain attempts to fly 
 
 The nightmare's weight, that loads his panting chest 
 
 When leaden slumber seals his heavy eye ; 
 Nor aught avails to chase his soul's unrest 
 
 The wildest struggles of his agony, 
 
 Or rid the bosom of the encumbering pest ; 
 
 So struggled I in vain — harness and horse 
 
 In piteous thrall held bound my captive force.
 
 DE WYRHALE. 209 
 
 LX. 
 
 " High o'er my head already was that arm, 
 
 That late I hoped with dexterous skill to foil ; 
 
 And reared the blade with recent slaughter warm, 
 Which I unwise had counted as my spoil ; 
 
 All helpless there I lay, like one by charm 
 Of wizard bound, or in the fowler's coil 
 
 Intrepid eaglet, which, though snared he lie, 
 
 Yet hurls untamed defiance from his eye. 
 
 LXI. 
 
 " Lady ! that lofty knight the vantage spurned, 
 When prostrate he beheld his helpless foe 
 
 By chance disarmed ; to nobler deed he turned : — 
 A rush to rescue, fleet as from the bow 
 
 The quarril springs, his wary eye discerned ; 
 Her checked the hand upraised to deal the blow, 
 
 Replaced the keen-edged steel within the sheath, 
 
 Resumed the lance, and nerved his arm for death. 
 
 p
 
 210 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 LXII. 
 
 " But who is he in iron ensconced, that form 
 
 Which swift advancing scours with loosened rein ? 
 
 Fleet as the death-bolt, threatening as the storm, 
 He speeds, ere that the youth he loves be slain ; 
 
 The gentle knight with ardent friendship warm, 
 De Wyrhale's self. — Lo, wheeling on the plain 
 
 His foe had marked with caution due the race, 
 
 And his indignant steed withdrawn a space. — 
 
 LXIII. 
 
 " But a due distance gained he wheeled him round, 
 Fire in his eye, as firm he clutched the lance 
 
 Tenacious in his grasp ; then with a bound 
 
 Sprang horse and man to meet the foe's advance ;- 
 
 Were heard afar the ringing hoofs' loud sound, 
 As rattling on to play the deathful chance, 
 
 They move and clash in wrath. — So angry bulls 
 
 Stung with wild rage oppose their horned skulls ;
 
 DE WYRHALE. 211 
 
 LXIV. 
 
 " So Vaga's waves with ocean's foaming tide 
 
 Mingle in loud contention, and upfling 
 The foam and fury of their anger wide, 
 
 Bidding the caverned rocks and woodlands ring, 
 That skirt its hanks with glory and with pride, 
 
 What time 'neath Dian's influence swells the spring. — 
 Yet oh ! the furious course was quickly run, 
 And all too soon the bitter triumph won ! — 
 
 LXV. 
 
 " Each knight his plume-graced helm abasing low, 
 With griping knee fast to the saddle glued, 
 
 On stinup poised hung o'er the saddle-bow, — 
 And on his rival straight the course pursued. — 
 
 Dire was the clang of ringing armour, — low 
 
 Behold the White-rose knight ; De Wyrhale stood 
 
 Unharmed and undismayed, as rears the rock 
 
 Its front unmoved, spite of the lightning's shock.
 
 212 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 LXVI. 
 
 " Ah ! Fortune, shall rash mortals deem thee hlind ? 
 
 Are they not blind who when thou smilest fair, 
 That thou art eyeless ever bear in mind, 
 
 But think not on the sightless thing they are 1 
 Whom thou dost mock, so straitened, so confined 
 
 Is their brief view, arraign thy power who dare 1 
 Short is De Wyrhale's joy, as quick he freed 
 The rescued Osric from his dying steed. 
 
 LXVII. 
 
 " For when he turned to view the weltering knight, 
 Where prone upon the empurpled field he lay, 
 
 A blood-stained corse, death's victim stretched outright, 
 Who late shone glittering in the bright sun-ray, 
 
 And on the eye brake all the hideous sight — 
 Then did the emblazoned surcoat first betray 
 
 Though rent and torn with sword-thrust keen, and blow, 
 
 The well-known bearing of the illustrious foe.
 
 DE WYRHALE. 213 
 
 LXVIII. 
 
 " Ah to the yawning jaws of hell devote 
 
 Be he whose phrenzied vengeance whets the sword 
 
 For riot 'midst his kindred, and bids float 
 
 "With her own blood his country ; feat abhorred 
 
 Of civil discord pestilent, whose throat 
 Is parched for blood, whose hand is stored 
 
 With daggers indiscriminate for kin 
 
 And kith, foul enginry of death and sin ! 
 
 LXIX. 
 
 " But ah ! these lips unblest De Wyrhale's woe 
 
 In that unhappy hour dare not portray ! 
 Ne'er from my heart, though years with age's snow - 
 Should bleach my brow may pass that grief away, 
 Convulsive heaved with agonizing throe 
 
 His breast of killing thoughts the tortured prey. — 
 So writhes the tiger by the huntsmen riven, 
 Who in his entrails feels the spear-head driven.
 
 214 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 LXX. 
 
 " Seizing his misericorde, each joint of plate 
 He sought for entrance, maddened by despair, 
 
 Might let his breast within oblivious fate, 
 
 And quell at once life's current, and his care. 
 
 Heaven armed my hand with sudden vigour ; — straight 
 I grasped his upraised arm, and bade forbear, 
 
 And from his firm hold wrenched the untainted blade, — 
 
 When he, not wroth, thus oped his lips and said, 
 
 LXXI. 
 
 " ' Osric ! thy care alas ! is ill bestowed 
 
 On one, the woefull'st knight that ever shone 
 
 In steely sheen, or forth in triumph rode, — 
 But bear this scarf, rich prize by true love won 
 
 That ne'er, whilst yet his life-blood freely flowed, 
 Unblest De Wyrhale deemed he had foregone, 
 
 To Rosabelle ; and when she views its stains, 
 
 Tell her the drops are from a father's veins.
 
 DE WYRHALE. *215 
 
 LXXII. 
 
 " ' Tell her my lance, in spite of troth and faith 
 Though straightly pledged, by evil chance misled 
 
 Hath to her Sire, assoil him heaven ! brought death — 
 Not unrequited, for among the dead 
 
 He rushed to soil with dust his ill-earned wreath, 
 And lies outstretched upon his blood-stained bed.' 
 
 He said and gave the pledge, 't was Osric's care 
 
 Lady to thee alas ! this day to bear. 
 
 LXXIII. 
 
 " Upspringing quick, he vaults upon his horse, 
 Rudely with pungent spur his flank annoys, 
 
 And furious drives along his headlong course, 
 And as he speeds, upon the gale his voice, 
 
 Stung with the venomed pang of keen remorse, 
 Is echoing heard for vengeance, and De Joyes, 
 
 Till wild, with phrenzy urged, he plunged among 
 
 Of Gloucester's armed array the embattled throng.
 
 216 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 LXXIV. 
 
 " Soon was there strenuous fight and desperate fray, 
 
 For all around the mel£e fierce began 
 Of either host ; array opposed to array 
 
 And horse to horse rushed thick and man to man, 
 And stunning roll of drum, and trumpet bray ; 
 
 Hammer, and maule, halberd and partizan 
 Hurtle re-echoing, as on sounding casque 
 And cuirass each strong arm performed its task. 
 
 LXXV. 
 
 "But where was he De Wyrhale self- devote ? 
 
 In vain mine eye his fiery course pursued 
 Fleet as the meteor's flight, oft seen to shoot, 
 
 What time cold night hath flower and herb bedewed, 
 Athwart the sky and vanish. — Still the note 
 
 He sang of vengeance on my ear strikes rude — 
 For by his luckless hand thy father fell, 
 Ah woe is the day ! — Ah hapless Rosabellc !
 
 DE WYRHALE. 217 
 
 LXXVI. 
 
 " Long time with untired arm dismay he spread, 
 'Midst myriads who their ceaseless weapons ply, 
 
 As winds and waves some harassed bark invade 
 And lightning glance and torrent from on high, 
 
 Which though she breast the surge long undismayed 
 And brave the warfare of the black-browed sky, 
 
 At length beneath their foaming wrath and roar 
 
 Must sink engulphed — these eyes beheld no more." 
 
 LXXVII. 
 
 He ceased : but who shall paint the doleful plight 
 Of that astonied pair, whose ear gave heed ; 
 
 Poor Rosabelle, alas heart-rending sight ! 
 Sank down to earth as bends the fragile reed 
 
 Beneath the cruel north ; — whilst she in white 
 Enrobed, no aid could lend in her great need : 
 
 For this convulsive heaved with bitterest throe, 
 
 And that all stone appeared fast fixed in woe.
 
 218 DE WYRHALE. 
 
 LXXVIII. 
 
 At length the holy dame with tears 'gan speak — 
 
 "Ah scenes long past, would heaven remembered not ! 
 
 Spare ye this bosom lest my frail heart break, 
 And I, of sense bereft, roam all distraught, 
 
 Stung with the pangs of killing memory's rack, 
 The torturing pangs of agonizing thought ! — 
 
 Oh, in that hour when desolate, betrayed, 
 
 Mother of God, I fled to thee for aid, — 
 
 LXXIX. 
 
 " For solace fled ; when he, my wedded Lord, 
 Of knightly troth pledged in the sight of heaven, 
 
 Disloyal heart ! abandoned, and abhorred 
 
 Forth cast me, on the world a wanderer driven, 
 
 Reft of my child ; when mercy were the sword, 
 That had the fountain of my life-blood riven, 
 
 Thou Virgin wast my refuge, here I found 
 
 The balm alone could stanch my bleeding wound !
 
 DE WYRHALE. 219 
 
 LXXX. 
 
 " De Joyes ! " continued still that saintly dame, 
 " Be still my heart — to joy, to sorrow dead — 
 
 God's mother quell thy tumult — Yet the name — 
 De Joyes sayest thou ? — and is the spirit fled 
 
 That fed the life of bold De Joyes with flame ! 
 Ah Rosabelle lay here thy drooping head, 
 
 A mother craves, — joy frantic, sorrow wild, — 
 
 He was my wedded Lord — thou art my Child !" 
 
 q '2
 
 NOTES 
 
 CANTO I. 
 
 Stanza XIII. 
 
 To kiss the hand was an act of adoration amongst the earliest idolaters. 
 The custom is oriental, and to this day the religious Jew when he 
 touches the Pentateuch practises it. See Job xxxi. v. 27, — " and my 
 heart hath been secretly enticed, or my mouth hath kissed my hand," 
 &c. &c. 
 
 Stanza XV. 
 
 " The more western part of this county of Gloucester, beyond Severn, 
 which was formerly possessed by the Silures, as far as the river Vaga, 
 or Wye, which divides England and Wales, is entirely covered with 
 thick woods, and at this day is called Dean Forest : some of the 
 writers call it Sylva Danica from the Danes; others, with Giraldus, 
 Danubite-sylva; but unless it takes its names from a small neighbour- 
 ing town called Dean, I should fancy that Dean, by cutting off a 
 syllable is derived from Ar-den, which word the Gauls and Britons 
 seem to have used for a wood, since two great forests, one in Gallia 
 Belgica, the other amongst us in Warwickshire, are both called by the 
 name of Arden." — Camden. 
 
 Stanza XVIII. 
 
 Edward I. issued his mandate to Peter Corbet to superintend and 
 assist in the destruction of the wolves in the counties of Gloucester, 
 Worcester, Hereford, Salop, and Stafford; they had increased to that 
 degree from the time of the Saxon monarchs. — Camden.
 
 222 NOTES. 
 
 Stanza XXXIX. 
 The first year of the 13th century witnessed the rise of the Mendicant 
 orders. The Dominicans landed in England in 1221, and our coun- 
 trymen called them black friars, from the colour of their upper 
 garments : the Franciscans followed three years afterwards, and were 
 called for a like reason, grey friars. 
 
 Stanza L. 
 
 In the first battle of St. Albans, which occurred in 1454, the number 
 of troops on either side was small. The Lancastrians lost their great 
 leaders, Somerset, Clifford, and Northumberland, who fell in the thick 
 of the battle. The Earls of Dorset, Stafford, and the Duke of Buck- 
 ingham were wounded. The death of the three leaders created so 
 universal a panic that the Earl of Wiltshire was said to have flung his 
 armour in a ditch. Sir Philip Wentworth abandoned the standard of 
 the king, and the Duke of Buckingham retired without being able to 
 rally the forces. 
 
 Stanza LXVI. 
 
 It would not be difficult to cite many examples of knights who ter- 
 minated their career by retiring to a life of austerity and seclusion. 
 Peter the Hermit himself was born of a gentleman's family, and his 
 military service was under the neighbouring Counts of Boulogne, the 
 heroes of the first crusade, but he relinquished the sword and the 
 world, and retired first to a convent, and afterwards to a hermitage. 
 
 CANTO II. 
 
 Stanza VIII. 
 
 Although more than a century had elapsed since the final expulsion 
 of the Franks from Acre and the Holy Land by the Sultan Khalil, 
 the notion of the possibility of its recovery, and the hope of rescuing 
 the Holy City from the hands of the infidels was not extinguished in
 
 NOTES. '223 
 
 the time of Henry IV., when as Bolingbroke he received the account 
 of the death of Richard II. Shakspeare makes him say : — 
 
 " Lords, I protest my soul is full of woe, 
 That blood should sprinkle me to make nie grow; 
 Come mourn with me for what I do lament, 
 And put on sullen black incontinent. 
 1 '11 make a voyage to the Holy Land, 
 To wash this blood off from my guilty hand." — Richard II, 
 
 Stanza XXIV. 
 
 The battle of Barnet was fought with great obstinacy on both sides, 
 but an accident threw the balance on the side of the Yorkists. Ed- 
 ward's cognizance was a sun, that of Warwick a star with rays; and 
 the mistiness of the morning rendering it difficult to distinguish them, 
 the Earl of Oxford, De Vere, who fought on the side of the Lancas- 
 trians, was by mistake attacked by his friends, and driven from the 
 field of battle. Warwick, contrary to his usual practice, engaged that 
 day on foot, and was slain in the thickest of the engagement, and no 
 quarter was given by Edward. Itapin gives the cognizance of a star 
 to the Earl of Oxford. 
 
 Stanza XXXI. 
 
 In the period when chivalry flourished, woman was sustained in a 
 proud elevation by the virtues which chivalry required of her ; and 
 man paid homage to her mind as well as to her beauty. She was not 
 the mere subject of pleasure, taken up and thrown aside as passion 
 and caprice dictated, but being the fountain of honour, her image was 
 always blended with the fairest visions of his fancy, and the respectful 
 consideration which she therefore met with, shewed she was not an 
 unworthy awarder of fame. Fixed by the gallant warriors of chivalry 
 in a nobler station than that which has been assigned to her by the 
 polite nations of antiquity, all the graceful qualities of her nature 
 blossomed into beauty, and the chastening influence of feminine gen- 
 tleness and tenderness was for the first time in history experienced by 
 man. — Milts' History of Chivalry.
 
 224 NOTES. 
 
 Stanza XXX III. 
 
 Although tournaments are mentioned as having occurred during the 
 reign of Henry VI. he does not appear to have taken at any time 
 any delight in martial exercises. During the latter part of his reign 
 there was too much fighting to render the introduction of mimic war, 
 as the spirit-stirring sport necessary to keep the lance from rust, or the 
 warrior's frame from effeminacy. The names of Warwick, Edward 
 Earl of March (Edward IV.), of Hungerford, Oxford, or Pembroke, 
 or of any of the stoutest chiefs of that period are not mentioned as 
 seeking distinction at the tilt. 
 
 Stanza LIV. 
 
 Knighthood never lost its character of being a distinction and reward 
 of merit; presumed indeed rather than proved, generally speaking. 
 It was often conferred as the bright guerdon of achievements in arms. 
 Men at arms and soldiers were often raised to the class of knights, 
 and the honour was more than a chimera of the imagination, for the 
 title and consideration of a gentleman immediately accompanied the 
 creation. The story of King Edward III. having knighted an 
 individual who had been a tailor, and who afterwards headed the com- 
 pany of White or English adventurers, so famous in the Italian wars, 
 under the name of Sir John Hawkwood, is become a familiar tale 
 since the publication of Sir Walter Scott's Monastery. 
 
 Stanza LV. 
 
 In the days of chivalry the gentle page was directed to regard some 
 one lady as the type of his heart's future mistress, and to her he was 
 to be obedient, faithful, and courteous. When the young Jean de 
 Saintre was a page of honour at the court of the French king, the 
 Dame des Belles Cousines inquired of him the name of the mistress 
 of his affections. The simple youth replied, that he loved his lady 
 mother, and next to her his sister Jaqueline was dear to him. "Young 
 man," rejoined the lady, "I am not speaking of the affection due to your 
 mother and sister, but I wish to know the name of the lady to whom 
 you are attached par amours." The Dame des Belles Cousines charged
 
 NOTES. 225 
 
 him with being a traitor to the laws of chivalry, and declared his cra- 
 ven spirit was evinced by such an avowal. " Whence (she cried), 
 sprang the valiancy and knightly feats of Launcelot, Gawain, Tris- 
 trem, Givon the Courteous, and other ornaments of the round table, 
 except from the noble desire of maintaining themselves in the grace 
 and esteem of the ladies, and without which spirit-stirring sentiment 
 they must ever have remained in the shade of obscurity ? and do you 
 presume to declare that you possess no sovereign lady, and desire to 
 have none ? " — Mills' History of Chivalry : Froissart. 
 
 CANTO III. 
 
 Stanza XV. 
 
 What BufFon says of the compassionate regard borne to the crane 
 and the stork by the humbler classes on the continent, is applicable to 
 the respect paid to the red-breast in ours. Whatever wisdom there 
 may be in despising prejudices of this nature in the people at large, 
 there is but little in condemning them. They have generally had 
 their origin in good motives ; and it should never be our endeavour 
 to suppress any tender emotion of friendship or pity, in those hard 
 breasts that are, but too frerpuently, unsusceptible of either. 
 
 Stanza XIX. 
 
 The bones of a supposed tenant of a hermitage have been sometimes 
 discovered in this country. In January 1747, a skeleton of a recluse 
 was found by Mr. Stovin, accompanied by a reverend gentleman, in 
 the cell at Lindholm, near Hatfield. They were believed to be those 
 of William of Lindholm, a hermit, who had long made this cave his 
 habitation. — Defence of Eugene Aram. — Annual Register, Vol. II. 358. 
 
 Stanza XXIV. 
 Ci.lrewall, anciently called Wellington, Clowerwall, and afterwards
 
 226 NOTES. 
 
 Clearwell, from a beautiful clear rivulet arising suddenly out of a 
 limestone rock in the village, belonged, at one time, to the family of 
 the Joyces ; it gives its name to one of the four tythings into which 
 the parish of Newland is divided, which is all part of the ancient 
 forest district. 
 
 Stanza XXVI. 
 
 There was a nunnery of seven or eight white nuns of the Benedic- 
 tine order, and called White Ladies, from the colour of their habits, 
 situated, says Leland, on the north side of the cemetery of St. Os- 
 wald in the north suburb of the city of Worcester, said to be founded 
 by a Bishop of that diocese. It was built upon ground that had be- 
 longed to the cathedral convent. The site of their house and the 
 donations which had been made to them, were confirmed by the prior 
 and convent of Worcester, in July A.D. 1255, at which time also 
 their church was dedicated. A tenement still exists about a mile to 
 the east of Worcester, which was a part of the possessions of this re- 
 ligious house, and still bears the name of the Nunnery farm. Their 
 revenue was valued at the dissolution 53/. 3,s. Id. The site of the 
 nunnery still retains the name of the White Ladies, and is held under 
 the governors of a charity, &c. — Green's History of Worcestei'shire. 
 
 Stanza XL. 
 
 Daedalus ingenio fabia? celeberrimus artis 
 Ponit opus, turbatq; notas, et hjmina flexum 
 Ducit in errorem variarum ambage viarum. 
 Non secus ac liquidus Phrygiis Maeandrus in arvis 
 Ludit, et ambiguo lapsu refluitq; fluitq; 
 Occurrensq; sibi venturas aspicit undas : 
 Et nunc ad fontes, nunc in mare versus apertum 
 Incertus exercet aquas. — Ovid. 
 
 Stanza L. 
 
 To no one acquainted with the scenery of the Wye is the bold lofty 
 rock, the abrupt termination of a semicircular woodclad ridge of moun- 
 tain lime-stone that sweeps with the bend of the river on its left bank
 
 NOTES. 227 
 
 from English Bieknor to this point, unknown. It bears the name of 
 Symmon's Yat. Along the summit of this ridge, commonly called 
 Coldwell Rocks, walks have been cut through the woods, affording, at. 
 intervals, magnificent views of the river close beneath, and of the 
 country beyond, the beautiful variety of which must be seen to be 
 justly estimated. The walks have been long known by the appellation 
 of Wyrhale's Walks. The river approaches close to the foot of the 
 Yat, on its eastern side, and there leaves it to encompass a consider- 
 able headland, which advances beyond the Yat in front, and having 
 made a circuit of six miles or more, returns to bathe its western side. 
 From the summit a wide range over the adjacent county of Hereford 
 is seen, the beauty of which is celebrated ; the view of the river itself 
 is intercepted frequently by elevated swells of pasture and of wood- 
 land, so as to give the landscape an appearance of being diversified 
 by several distinct sheets of water, or miniature lakes, the effect 
 of which is particularly pleasing, and well calculated to excite 
 admiration in the minds of the visitors of this romantic rock, and 
 who frequently in descending this picturesque river, land beneath, and 
 devote an hour to the ascent by a rude pathway to the summit of 
 the Yat. 
 
 Stanza LXXIV. 
 
 The ancient seat of the Fitzhardings, Lord Berkleys, was disputed by 
 the heir male of the family, and the daughter of Thomas Lord Berk- 
 ley who died in the 5th year of Henry V. She was married to Lord 
 Warwick, who carried off the title deeds of the estate; but Lord James 
 the nephew, established himself in Berkley Castle, andstood a regular 
 siege, carried on by his adversary. Upon the Lady Warwick's death, 
 her rights devolved on her daughter, wife of Lord Shrewsbury, a per- 
 son of masculine energy, suitable to the age in which she lived. She 
 confined Lord James in the tower of his own fortress, and sent his 
 younger sons, James and Thomas out of the kingdom, and imprisoned 
 his wife, a daughter of Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk, in Gloucester 
 Castle. She bequeathed her spirit and her pretensions to her grand- 
 son, the Lord Lisle. William Lord Berkley, a descendant of Lord 
 James, contrived tore-establish himself in the castle, whilst the adjoin- 
 ing manor of Wootton remained in the possession of his rival, Lord
 
 228 NOTES. 
 
 Lisle, who lived in open defiance of law and justice. They agreed to 
 decide their quarrel by the sword, and met on Nibley Green, each at 
 the head of a thousand followers, where Lord Lisle was shot through 
 the neck by an archer from the forest of Dean. — See Dugdale, At- 
 kins 1 History of Gloucester, and Miss Roberts' York and Lancaster. 
 
 Stanza LXXX. 
 
 The Foreigner is a name by which the inhabitants of Dean Forest are 
 still in the habit of designating a new comer into their precincts ; nor 
 will he lose the appellation though he reside all his life amongst them, 
 nor do they ever look on him in the same light with which they re- 
 gard a native born. 
 
 Stanza LXXXI. 
 
 The Lord Rivers and his youngest son Sir John Wydville were, after 
 the battle of Banhury, pursueu and seized, some short time after, in 
 the Forest of Dean, and delivered to their enemies. — Miss Roberts' 
 York and Lancaster. 
 
 Stanza LXXXII. 
 
 Dean Forest was formerly so thick with trees, so very dark and 
 terrible in its shades and various crossways, that it rendered the inha- 
 bitants barbarous, and emboldened them to commit many outrages. 
 For in the reign of Henry VI. they so infested the banks of the 
 Severn with their robberies, that there was an act of parliament to 
 restrain them. 
 
 A petition was sent from the bailiffs and burgesses and commonalty 
 of the borough of Tewksbury to Henry VI. stating that the inhabit- 
 ants of Tewksbury had been accustomed to ship all manner of mer- 
 chandize down the Severn to Bristol, and complaining of the disor- 
 derly conduct of the inhabitants of the Forest of Dean, who it was 
 said, come with great riot and strength, in manner of war, as enemies 
 of a strange country, and stop and plunder their barges of wheat, 
 malt, and flour, and others divers goods, as they pass by the coasts 
 of the forest, and that the marauders not only despoil them of their 
 merchandize, but destroy their vessels, and even cast the crews over- 
 board and drown them. — Beimel's History of Tewksbury.
 
 NOTES. 229 
 
 CANTO IV. 
 
 Stanza XX. 
 
 Buckstein or Buckstone is an immense mass of coarse Breccia, stand- 
 ing on its apex, in shape and appearance an inverted cone, on the 
 summit of a very high point, which rises more than 600 feet above 
 the level of the Wye, in the county of Gloucester, and close to the 
 borders of the county of Monmouth. Tradition refers it to the time 
 of the Druids. This huge stone is so nicely balanced, that being 
 pushed at a particular point, it is said to vibrate sensibly. Stones 
 which seem to have been erected as religious or historical memorials 
 are found in many counties, and oftentimes poised so accurately, that 
 they are moved by a very trifling impulse, even by the wind. Stone- 
 henge is possibly more ancient than Druids or Celts, to whom these 
 monuments are usually attributed. The English antiquary, Norden, 
 says of it, that " it consisted of certayne huge stones, so set, and 
 subtilly combined, not by art, as 1 take it, but by nature, as a child 
 may move with one finger, so equally ballanced it is." 
 
 Stanza XL. 
 
 Plate armour was composed of different pieces for back, breast, 
 shoulders, arms, hands, thighs, feet; viz. cuirass consisting of back 
 and breast-plate, pouldrons, brassarts, or gondebras, or avantbras, 
 corruptly in English vambraces, gauntlets, caissarts or cuishes, with 
 grenouilleries, greaves, and iron shoes. The heels of a knight had 
 spurs with rowels three inches long ; over all, men of family wore 
 rich surcoats, charged with armorial bearings. 
 
 Stanza XLIV. 
 
 Henry Clifford was six years old when his father Lord John was 
 killed at Towton. His father, grandfather, and great-grandfather 
 were all killed in battle, two at home, and two abroad. It became 
 necessary to conceal the son and heir of Lord John, who had rendered
 
 230 NOTES. 
 
 himself more than commonly obnoxious to the house of York, not 
 only by his prowess in the field, but by his ferocious slaughter of the 
 young Earl of Rutland. Banishment, imprisonment, or death, 
 would have been the fate of the child had he been discovered. At 
 the age of seven years he was placed in concealment as a shepherd's 
 boy by his affectionate mother, at Londesborough, a very sequestered 
 spot where she chiefly resided. He the more cheerfully acquiesced, 
 as he was watched by the care of the peasants, who had served his 
 family, and who studied to impress upon his mind the conviction, that 
 his safety depended upon his secresy, and his leading a life of humilia- 
 tion and poverty. 
 
 When he had attained the age of fourteen, a report arose at the 
 court of Edward IV. that the two sons of Lord John were alive, and 
 their mother was questioned on the subject. The anxious mother at 
 one time sent him with another son Richard to the sea side, with an 
 intention of embarking them for the Low Countries, to be educated 
 beyond seas. Richard the younger was sent over and died shortly 
 after, but Henry was reconveyed some time after to Londesborough. 
 The fictions of this poem are the supposed events of the period be- 
 tween his feigned embarkation, and his return to Londesborough. 
 For very interesting particulars of this nobleman, or the Shepherd 
 Lord, as he was afterwards called, see ' Mornings in Spring,' by 
 Nathan Drake, &c. 
 
 Stanza LI II. 
 
 Shakspearf. gives the following pleasing description of that unfor- 
 tunate scion of royalty, Edward prince of Wales : 
 
 " A sweeter, and a lovelier gentleman, 
 Framed in the prodigality of nature, 
 Young, valiant, wise and no doubt right royal, 
 The spacious world cannot again afford." 
 
 Stanza LXXV. 
 
 From the authorities quoted in Grose's Military Antiquities, Vol I. 
 p. 152, we learn that fire-arms were first used about the year 1460-7, 
 as mentioned by Monstrelet and Juvenal des Ursins. Edward IV.
 
 NOTES. 2-31 
 
 first introduced hand-guns into this kingdom by bringing with him, 
 among other forces, 300 Flemings armed with hand-guns. 
 
 Stanza LXXVII. 
 
 The Lancastrians, who had marched from Bath, moved on to Glou- 
 cester. Edward anticipated them by his orders to fortify the bridge, 
 and on this account they turned off toward Tewksburyr and the 
 battle ensued. The Lancastrians had raised a steep rampart in front 
 of them, and the strength of their entrenchments seemed to defy 
 assault. Gloucester pushed on in defiance of obstruction, and played 
 on the rampart with artillery The Lancastrians showered arrows on 
 his troops and he retired. The Duke of Somerset too eagerly pursued, 
 but he was not supported, and forced back by Gloucester, who ulti- 
 mately stormed the entrenchments arid gained the day. 
 
 CANTO V. 
 
 Stanza XII. 
 
 To every man the day of his death is virtually the day of judgment. 
 Is there then no intermediate state? Shall we uphold the cold and 
 comfortless doctrine of the sleep of the soul ? But is it a cold and 
 comfortless doctrine, when we consider the period as a mere night's 
 sleep followed by the brilliant day of eternity, — a point of time taken 
 out of infinite duration, of which we are wholly insensible ; like 
 the refreshing slumbers of a child, who closes its weary lids because it 
 is a pleasure to close them, and opens them again when recruited and 
 refreshed 1 
 
 Stanza LXX. 
 
 The Misericorde was a long and very sharp pointed dagger, which 
 was part of the knight's panoply when completely equipped, and which 
 was made use of, when the enemy in complete plate-armour fell to the 
 ground, and there was no means of dispatching him, but through some
 
 232 NOTES. 
 
 small crevice where the plates lapped over, or did not fit so exactly as 
 to deny admission to tlie weapon. It was so called, because it was 
 not used when the fallen adversary acknowledged he was conquered 
 and craved mercy. 
 
 Henry Lord Clifford, the Shepherd Lord, was restored to all his 
 estates and titles in the first year of Henry VII. He was a lover of 
 study and retirement. By the Lady Anne Clifford, he is described 
 as a plain man, who lived for the most part a country life, and came 
 seldom either to court or to London, excepting when called to parlia- 
 ment, on which occasion he behaved himself like a wise and good 
 English nobleman. But he shewed himself a warrior in his sixtieth 
 year, and well supported the military fame of his house on the bloody 
 day of Flodden Field, when 
 
 " From Pennigant to Pendle Hill 
 From Linton to long Addingham 
 And all that Craven's coasts did till 
 They with the lusty Clifford came : 
 All Saintcliffe hundred went with him 
 With striplings stout from Wharledale 
 And all that Hautons hills did climb 
 With Longstroth eke and Litton dale, 
 Whose milkfed fellows, fleshy bred, 
 Well brawned their sounding bows upbend, 
 All such as Storton's Fells had fed 
 On Clifford's banner did attend." 
 
 LONDON: 
 MANNING ANIJ 5M1TIISON, IVY-LANE, PATERNOSTKR ROW.
 
 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
 AA 000 379 258 7
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
 Los Angeles 
 
 This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. 
 
 Form L9-100m-9,'52(A3105)444
 
 PR Ducarel - 
 
 1*629 De I ffyrhal o 
 D81*9d 
 
 PR 
 U629 
 
 D8ii9d