P R ,5227 Glass Book ADHELM and ETHELFLED 8 Metrical gtep* BY J. J. RIPLEY, ESQ. — Joys has he that sings. But ah ! not such, Or seldom such, the hearers of his song. Fastidious, or else listless, or perhaps Aware of nothing arduous in a task They never undertook, they little note His dangers or escapes, and haply find Their least amusement where he found the most LONDON : Printeo for tlje gurtw; AND SOLD BY EDWARD JEFFERY, COLONNADE, PALL-MALL. 1818. PRIKTBD BY J- EVANS, LEICESTER STREET, LEICESTBR SQUARE. \? ' j\l THE EARL OF CLARENDON, THIS LITTLE POEM, THE SCENE OF WHICH IS LAID AMONG HIS LORDSHIP'S POSSESSIONS IN A COUNTRY, THE BIRTH-PLACE OP HIS LORDSHIP'S ILLUSTRIOUS ANCESTOR, IS, WITH GRATEFUL RESPECT AND REGARD, DEDICATED, BY HIS LORDSHIP'S MOST OBEDIENT AND VERY HUMBLE SERVANT, J. J. RIPLEY. CONTENTS. Page 1 . — The Retrospect fc 1 2. — The Profession 20 3. — The Knell 35 4. — The Relapse 53 5. — The Narrative 65 6. — The Narrative, concluded 88 ADVERTISEMENT. The Date of the Story related in the following Poem is supposed to be subsequent to the Year 1349, when Richard Duke of York, the only historical Personage mentioned, succeeded the Duke of Bedford as Regent of France. The time, comprehending the action which oc- casions the narrative, and the narrative itself, is one evening. ADHELM AND ETHELFLED. L " Peace to the dome, where, low and sweet, " In echoes doubling ere they fleet, " The measure of the solemn lay " Is softened — sinks — and dies away ! " Peace and calm joy V Twas thus_, of old, Some brother, when his vows were told, At Braden cried. The miii, which shed His bright farewell o'er Avon's bed, Had left a still and lovely eve Sacred t<> blest St. Genevieve; And, as her ministers retired From rites which with the day expired, They dropped a bead by every shrine, And, meekly bending at the sign, Crossed each a venerable front With holy water from the font. The dew, that summer eventide, Fell soft on Braden-hamlet side, And not a breeze sank from the brow Upon the brook and vale below : It was so silent and serene On every knoll of tufted green, Her cottagers were fain to say Their earthly state was past away ; As if its cares had been subdued By somewhat like beatitude, 3 And for their vigil they possessed Another world of peace and rest. But, when the moon shone bright and high Above the cloudless eastern sky, And broader lights and shadows fell On holy Braden's quiet cell, The din of rustic mirth began, Around the laugh and whistle ran, And shepherds bade their song arise, With all the rude festivities, Which, obsolete to tastes refined, Were unforgotten by the hind, Who, simply pious, every year Loved to resume and keep them here, ('Spite of the world's capricious will, Unrivalled, and inspiring still) Though many snows had beat upon His nameless monumental stone, And many a spring recalled to bloom Fresh moss and violets round his tomb, Beneath the abbey's central town-. Who gave the swains thai festive hour. Forth from their home, which bine and brake Had perfumed for the hamlet wake, To lead and grace the moonlight game Fond youth and conscious maiden came — The aged to admire apart The triumph- of their country's art, Such as their sires were wont to prize, And future sons will solemnize. These in a swift and simple round Pursued the tabor's merry sound. Those placed the loftiest vats, turned o'er, And lightened of their generous store ; There, upon transverse perches closed, The level planks a stage composed. The bonnets there aloof were hurled, A challenge to the rustic world. The gage each stout appellant gave, Accepted by a foe as brave : There too a bonnet hung on high, The aim for village rivalry. The umpires there, of skill and force Once matchless in the rural course, More temperate then, and timely wise, Stood to award another's prize. By them the handkerchief was wound The champion's nether thigh around — By them the ground ash sapling peeled, And fitted with an osier shield To guard his right — his weaker hand Was fettered by the silken band. 'Twas theirs the onset to decide, And watch th'essay on either side, The arm fix'd motionless and high Before the front — the level eye — The half open lip — the wrist's swift play, And each descending weapon's sway, 6 Impelled now here, txm there withstood, Till one or other blow drew blood. These arc the trials— this the fame Indigenous with England's name, Which nurse the germ of early Avorth, And draw the latent virtue forth ! Free born, and generously bred., Tis in a higher Nature's stead, Commanding hearts of foreign mould, More feebly sprung, or formed less bold : Her triumphs hence, and mercies rise- Proceed, and lift her to the skies. Therustic, conquering or subdued, By valour, skill, and fortitude, Aspires beyond his native strain, Not patient, wise, nor brave, in vain. From such began the mighty line By Richard led to Palestine, Through seas which murmured hoarse reply To the crusader's victory. Thy rescue, and thy glory, those, Henry ! at Agincourt arose, And rushed, where Ternois' waters streamed, A race devoted and redeemed. As thus the hamlet whiled away The vigil of their holiday, Some unaccustomed guests were by, Gazing in glad tranquillity, And half withdrawn from things divine, The ministers of Braden's shrine — Their service o'er — their simple fare Blest, and acknowledged by a prayer, They had assembled round a torch, Which burned within the abbey porch, A holy, still, and solemn light, Parting the shadows of the night — So Faith o'er mental gloom more dense Sheds its effusive influence, And where the mists of error lie Descends, a day spring from on high — And ever and anon they cast Upon thegroupe, in careless haste, Flitting along the moonlight sward, A meek and bountiful regard. Retired from longer orisons, Within the circle of his sons, Their venerable abbot came — Adhclm. his loved and sainted name. A charm impressively serene Attempered his exalted mien, For, underlining yet, he bore The burthen of the years of yore. Though with aspiring youth were flown The graceful vigour, once his own — The gallant port, and simple air, Which ministered to soul as fair — Affections to a few resigned, And openness with all mankind — The fancy favoring, bright, and clear, A cloudless summer hemisphere, i 9 And warmth, imparting to his tongue An eloquence refined, though strong. But time, which silently had worn His years to few, and those forlorn, Had left him leizure to reflect Securely on the retrospect, More bright, perhaps, when less sincere, Yet still, though disenchanted, dear. Of hopes which dazzle and then die Was Adhelm's youthful fantasy, The wisdom of his life's decline Exalted, equable, benign. Old age, too passionless to buoy His incomplete ideal joy, Had soothed unwelcome thoughts to rest, But kalendared his happiest, With such subdued and perfect love As follows sainted friends above. Changed as he was, he once had been The hero of his native green, • 10 And some remembered yel to praise The darling of more distant day*. What time he urged khe flying deer Foremost of all in swift career From Hindim, then a .sylvan name, Or Braden, bosoming the game, And won its branching spoils to deck The canopy of Severnec. In one such hour as Adhelm chose For feats of enterprize like those, He had gone forth before the day, By chance or fancy led away, Uncertain whether to pursue Familiar paths, or seek some new. The solitary field was won While he beheld the rising sun Inhale the mist which lightly rolled O'er his bright orb of beamless gold, And left the bright celestial bow Reflected in the expanse below, 11 And to the deepening blue above Bore all the freshness of the grove. The stag, amidst the wide obscure Aroused, had caught a breeze less pure, And doubled eastward up the gale ; Far distant in the foggy veil He seemed to the deluded eye, And larger than reality : But, as he bounded down the glade The hapless fool his hue betrayed ; Just when the sunbeam broke away, And his dun frontlet met its ray. The hunter chose with fatal art And winged with aim as true his dart ; The stag received it in its force — Once bounded shorthand pressed thegorse, Empurpling, as he bled to death, The browzes of his parent heath. 12 An ample spoil was early gained ; And what for him who won remained ? He plucked his arrow from the wound, And for a moment gazed around ; While one idea, in his mind Not new, perhaps, though undefined, And which had, but for this success, Been longer hushed in wariness, Suffused his cheek with warmer hue Than toil or early breezes drew ; Then, as the adventure o'er supplied Fair augury for one beside, He merrily and swiftly sped To gain the bower of Ethelfled. With twilight blush, serenely pale, Reviving all the gentle vale, Which woods of less luxuriant growth And livelier walks of pasture clothe, Though spots of corn-land intervene, Gilding at intervals the green; 13 With the first ray, obliquely bright Along the near inclining height — The smooth horizon of the down, With white flocks here and there bestrown, The love of every living thing Among those sweet wilds wandering — The gentle Ethelfled arose, Regardless of her light repose, And at her chamber window said The matins of a simple maid. Pleasing and few resolves prevent — Short vows prepare the innocent For each new task of joy and love, To which Avith every morn they move. As well the gentle maiden knew, It seemed, by the sweet looks she threw Where all the fertile landscape lay Rejoicing in the light of day, While from her lattice bent, to breathe The air blown fresh from flowers beneath. 14 Her check, which faintest breezes fanned, Was resting on her folded hand, And of the tress she had entwined Two ringlets only, unconfincd, Which o'er her rounded arm were thrown, Relieved its beauty by their own. A lively and yet softened eye Revealed her heart unfeignedly, With modest cheerfulness elate — In artless mirth affectionate. To her the morn, like yesterday, Was passing bright and dear away, In cares and offices beloved, And leizure happily improved. What fortunes were reserved to bless One so secure in gentleness — How many a cloudless day designed For one so joyful, good and kind ! He, who had seen the lovely maid Look from the bower, that morn, had said. 15 And scarcely had she gazed around, Ere hasty footsteps pressed the ground — Her tinkling sheep, in mazy thread, Following their startled leader, fled, And, springing from the underwood, Adhelm beneath her chamber stood, Fresh from his forest exercise, And proud of his superior prize, His shaft resigned, his bow unstrung, Looked up, and laughed, then blithely sung. His lay was such as youth who woos A bride from Severnec might choose : Not that of wight, unblest with sleep, Who, fain to rise at morning peep, His heart by suffering subdued, Or weaiy with solicitude, If not to love — to pity bade Some vain and half believing maid ; But frolic, fond, and true, and free, As earliest vows are wont to be— It) The strain, like the affection, warm With simple, yet with latent, charm. Ere Ethclfled her place forsook, He read acceptance in her look; " You will your gentleness impart " To this undeviating heart, " And, come what may," he fondly cried, " Adhelm will smile upon his bride." He had begun, while yet the maid, Behind her lattice half betrayed, Her finger on her lip impressed, Was fain to smile, and shun the rest. But Adhelm, his gay carol o'er, Had softly gained the opening door, And, unforbidden by her eye Which met his own in kind reply, And scarcely hesitating air, Received her from the winding stair, Then by her side repassed each trace Which he had followed from the chase, 17 Until among the dewy swath His stag compressed their sloping path. Regarding where its cheek was wet With big drops which suffused it yet, And blended with the trickling blood, A moment earnestly she stood, Then, as she left the stricken deer, Shed and concealed a silent tear, And on her lover's arm reclined, With feeling firm, with coyness kind. He passed like the delicious gale, Balm-breathing over many a vale, Which wafts in its unclouded way No showers but what refresh the day ; As yet too gentle to provoke Loud echoes from the rocking oak, And all the wildness of the brake In frequent undulations wake, And drift to the deserted plain Rare drops of dark oppressive rain ; 18 Deep blue afar ! and gloom afield ! While the sun sickens unrcvcaled, And one faint ray from Heaven is thrown Upon some yellow hill alone. So (some one more severely taught, Or less enamoured might have thought), So, may no future hour prepare For Adhelm more than present care, Short, light, accomplishing his youth, Which vigour, taste, and fancy smoothe. Nor e'er his voice, melodious now, Be sorrow-speaking, painful, low, And fault er at some dearer tone Of sympathy which wounds his own : Nor all his honorable years, Proudly begun, decline in tears ; Hard tears ! which from his manly eye Burst but for very agony : Past joys foregone — expected none — His light of life a sickening sun — 19 His consolation dimly bright, Awful, and far, though infinite. But little recked the pair who sought So tenderly their loved resort, In Severnec's sequestered bower, Of bliss beyond the present hour — The cloudless skies — the conscious groves- The moment which assured their loves : Except, perhaps, t'were Christmas-tide-^- The morn which might await a bride, When to fair Braden would be led, By Adhelm, happy Ethelfled, And housewifes might her hall adorn With misletoe, and berried thorn, And garnish for her bridal cheer The treasures of the frugal year-^- Blithe youths, and maidens blushing by, Mix blessings with their gaiety, And all her native hamlet be Dissolved in rustic jubilee. 20 II. Alas ! that, ere the foliage fell, And reddened in the tainted dell, A tempest, immaturely rude, Had swept its lovely solitude, And half a mighty forest's wreck Dishonoured graceful Severnec. And, when the north wind died away In dark December's sullen day, Thick snow and vapour more severe Obscured the heavy atmosphere, Then fell, unmingled with the rain, And froze, an adamantine chain. How was the joyful country changed I The landmarks hidden, or estranged, 21 Led not the pilgrim on his road To Ethelfled's forlorn abode ; Or, if he gained some neighbouring bound, Uncheered by a domestic sound, Amid the solitary vale He stopped, and only heard the hail Against some rattling window pour, Which shook unclosed the livelong hour, Then, shuddering at the loneliness Of hearths which he Was wont to bless, Increased to speed his doubtful pace, And sought a farther resting place. They said, that when, at length subdued By latest spring's vicissitude, The level mass began to shrink From lofty Hacben's southern brink, Eager for toil too long forgot The peasant left his cheerless cot, And, aided by a little rill, Trickling within its channel stilj, 22 Cut through the glaciated --teep A rugged arch, three fathom deep, And won from overhanging snows His way to labour and repose. The livelier emerald again Had re-apparelled all the plain, While towered, fantastic and sublime, That relic of the ungenial time. And yet the cethereal mildness threw A chrystallinc and tender hue On every gem and diamond spray, Descending to dissolve away. Such, amid olive groves and shrines, August Antiparos confines Within the bosom of her plain — Far, far below the unfathomed main Which waves upon her classic sands, Where, traced by no ignoble hands, The living characters record That man has wondered and adored. But what availed each opening sweet Of nature round the loved retreat ; Discernible between the copse, And overbranching fruit tree tops ; Here by the roofs' oblique ascent. There by its central battlement, Or the small porch above the gate, Charged with some old device and date, Or niches in the garden wall, Disclosed at many an interval ? The seedlings of a former spring, Luxuriantly flowering, Had climbed, as if in gay caprice, Each window sill and interstice ; And all the bloom of the parterre, Redundant from omitted care — The order of the flower plot In its replenishment forgot, Betrayed a hand unused to cull Sweets so profusely bountiful, 24 For ah! the pair who bade arise, Were driven from their paradise. Scene of the maiden's slow confession, Not of the favored youth's possession, Prepared with hopeful lover's pride, But never blest by happy bride, While yet it echoed with the blast, Silent* alone, had Adhelm passed, And, when the wintry months were o'er Her place knew Ethelfled no more. Usurping there another sate, And barred its hospitable gate ; Minion of one, unknown to all, Who gained, but never graced the hall. The roof which, when by her possessed, Had been beheld afar, and blessed, Whence never wanderer withdrew With expectation found untrue, Nor friend, who had not to retain The thought of somewhat wished again, 25 No longer for a guest arose, Nor offered to the poor repose : The steward of his master's store To give or seek alike forbore, But strangely turned, almost with dread, From eyes desiring Ethelfled, And passed the friends of Adhelm by With scant and silent courtesy. The hinds saw many an April wane To winter, and succeed again, 'Till few could in remembrance bear What Ethelfled and Adhelm were, Or by the wasting embers tell Their severed loves and sad farewelh Yet fewer the mysterious fate They bore, divided, desolate ; Or what the power which could withhold Their native field and little fold. Yet would their pleasant memory steal Upon the matron at her wheel, 26 (Their gift in careless happy years) And, with the balm of pious tears, Be offered her continual prayer That Heaven would guard the virtuous pair- That she might see them, ere she died, A lover wed, and happy bride. For this she brought St. Genevieve All that her poverty could give, And Braden's ministers confessed Her faithful occupation blessed. One evening, by the clear moonshine, The villagers had left the shrine, And, slowly scattered homewards, trode The green ways to each lone abode, Silent and quick a stranger passed — His footsteps were by some retraced ; But, ere they gained the narrow brook Which Braden's turrets overlook, The closing of the gate Avas heard, And the pursued had disappeared. 27 Strange ! that a traveller hastening by Should raise the common sympathy ; Braden for such benighted guest Had hospitality and rest, And, at the dawning of the day, Her prayers might speed him on his way. " Nay," answered one, whom they had found Alone upon the rising ground, " Long supplications will arise " Ere sleep descend upon those eyes, " And many a penitential prayer, " Ere that heart rest, or learn to bear. " But now, by the re-kindled brand " Which bickered from the brother's hand, " I saw him, as his spirit rose, " Revealing, yet refraining, woes " With somewhat more than fortitude, " More soothing, solemn, and subdued : " His sufferings could not repress " A native charm of gentleness, " But, when pursued by the request "' That he would calm and clear his breast, n, by sedge and spray, So faintly, that the calm around Was but remembered in its sound. Edwellyn lightly overstepped The stream, where it supinest crept j The father, while with weaker pace He pressed upon the landing place, Impelled to sudden reverence, Perhaps he was unconscious whence, Immersed his hollow palm, and took The treasure of the sleepy brook, And signed his forehead and his breast With those pure drops which he had blessed ; Then let the shrinking water drain Through his expanding hand again, And, while it gemmed the murky tide, With pious recollection cried. 57 " And I shall conquer in this sign— " Imperial Lord ! thy trust is mine." Then, as he gained the doubling hill, Wrapt in th' imagination still, " Though I my sign of worshipping " Receive in water from the spring, " And thy bright confirmation came " Amid the blaze of heavenly flame " Illuminating wide and far " The countless pomp of Roman war ; " What time with painful laboring pace, " Thy myriads to their resting place-— " One more turf couch, perhaps their last- " In tired array tumultuous passed, " And scarcely drew with slackened rein, " Their chivalry, impelled in vain. ^*' Yet freshly from the west arose " A breeze to lull them to repose, u By sounds and streamers o'er the host " In heavy undulation tossed, 58 " And where the parting sun was set " On brazen eoil and annulet, et The musie of their sad farewell, " As from the fabled image, fell. " Before a burst of brighter day " They sink — they fail — they fade away. t( Is there a faulchion flashing keen — " A spear among ten thousand seen — " A knee, in all the mighty crowd u Of men and animals, unbowed ? " Lightening upon the peopled plain, u Th' ethereal splendour streams in twain " The sunbeams which divide the air " Are shadows to its brightness, where, " Too glorious to be gazed upon, " It bears, as from the eternal throne, " The title and triumphant sign " Of second covenant divine. 59 " Hearts of the brave ! from rank to rank, " Before the high portent, ye shrank, " Despairing to appease or fly " Some fiercely present deity ; " Wliether stern Jove, or Mars your sire, " Or other of the idol choir, " Adored on Capitolian height " With prodigality of rite, " Gods of voluptuousness and fear ! " But when again your heads ye rear, " 'Tis to behold, and bow them down s( To one, of all your sects unknown — " One unimagined 'till this hour — ec Most Merciful, Almighty Power. " By his benign protection blest, " Soldiers ! sink sweetly to your rest ; tf Ye shall awake, with Constantine K Regenerate, conquering in his sign." The father told, or pondered o'er Such legends of monastic lore, 60 For off the musings ofhis mind Were, without utterance, resigned, While with his silent guide he wound Within the consecrated ground. Between them and the beaten way Low monumental hillocks lay ; Many which might from either claim Remembrance, and an honoured name, Where slumbered Braden's sometime race, Known each in his last resting place. None better, nor beloved so well As he, around whose narrow cell, Protected by a maple cross, Clung lavishly the constant moss : There, gathered to his fellow clay, What once was zealous Rudic lay. Fondly the father, while they passed, A look of salutation cast, And, turning to his youthful guide, " Gentle, my sacristan !" he cried, 61 " Were he, o'er whose remains we bend — " My wisest and most fervent friend, " Now haply wandering by my side, " (As on the evening ere he died), " Myself had, not admired, expressed " The fancies of a weary breast ; " Perhaps deemed passionless of all " In cloister and confessional : " Yet, if the painful chord be started " Which vibrates with one stricken hearted, " Away from sad realities, " To visionary themes he flies, " Seeking in any thoughts soe'er " A refuge from one heavier — " The secret sickness of his mind, a Soothed haply, but still left behind. " The sons of Braden have not seen " Young Adhelm as he once has been, " Few even remember or relate " My entrance and noviciate j 02 " They augtir from my solemn brow " That 1 am sad and holy now, " Or, doubtulg what 1 was, revere " The office which invests me here. " But, though I let the busy ciy " Of rumour pass as easily " As if my lifeless ear were cold, " And it were to my ashes told, " The honor of our house may claim " From its chief son a spotless name. " To thee, whose gratitude repays " My fond instruction, and my praise, " I trust the tale by love forbidden — " The sorrows in seclusion hidden ; " Guard them until my days are passed, " And then explain them, as thou mayst ; f< Not for the many to review, (< But to convince the cherished few " That I have sought a reverend grave, " Requiting the esteem they gave." 63 He paused, and followed up the height, A faultering pace, by doubtful light-; But, ere he breathed again, the gloom And the ascent were overcome. A little while he stood to gaze Upon the slant and clear moon-rays, Which issued from their cloudy vest, Until the planet, all confessed, Appeared to lift and rarify The dark grey concave of the sky, And shed upon the solemn scene A light so lustrous and serene, It seemed as if her crescent shone In radiance for that spot alone. For every floweret which withdrew Its beauty from the drops of dew — The spangling of the moisture, shed Upon its variegated bed, And hoar moss, which had overgrown The pillar of the cross of stone, G4 Appeared mure faint and lovelier Than when the day delighted there: While Lucid all the holy sign Expanded o'er that verdant shrine, A spotless form, as if to shew The heavenly way to those below. The Father to the east inclined, And took the path his guide resigned, With calm and grateful aspect led Beside the turf of Ethelfled. There, when he gained his wonted seat, Edwellyn hung upon his feet, And listened to the themes he chose ; Wrought to be eloquent in woes, While wandering in his plaintive tale Far from the grief he would bewail ; Yet skilled to suffer or restrain The indulgence of that pensive pain, 'Till he had told it all, and smiled, Sad, but to sorrow reconciled. V. " Must Nature smile for me in vain — " The vale retire — expand the plain — " The water wind and murmur round " My hill, with yon fair forest crowned ? " And is my soul too sick to bear " The influence of a scene so fair ? " Yet more, shall day, in Heaven new-born, " The shadows chase, and bring the morn " With all the pomp of thousand dyes " In clear or lightly clouded skies ? " And, if the sun serenely break, " Will every heart but one awake ? " Before the tufts of trees absorb " Yon rising moon — almost an orb, E 66 " Between their branching stems it throws k - A lighl so soft — so like repose, " That all but this unquiet breast " May sink beneath it into rest. " There was a time — alas ! the pain " Of numbering perished joys, how vain ! " How fruitless for a mind entombed " To feel that love has fondly bloomed ! — ee A time, when not alone the day " With night alternating its way, " And all th' expanse beneath their scope, " Like rest serene, or bright as hope, " But e'en the very simplest thing " Of gracious Nature's offering " Had lifted up a secret voice " Which called on Adhclm to rejoice : " More cherished, when the beauty shone " No longer for himself alone. " Witness the flowers which mantle here, " The shrine of Nature's worshipper, 67 " That such she was — from Heaven she drew " Her pure delights, as they the dew, " And in her charms appeared a rose " As blooming and short-lived as those. " Beheld at virgin distance moving " By many scarce, perhaps, approving ; " There were who might have met her eye, " Admiring, yet unconscious why, " For ah ! she knew not to elance " In bright pursuit its gentle glance ; " But, when her favouring smile remained, " Maidenly, blithe, and unconstrained, " Beyond a sister's confidence — " Above the softly lavish sense 11 Of all but the first pair who loved, " It soothed, delighted, and improved. " The feelings she forbore to speak " Were eloquent upon her cheek, " But scarcely raised her brow to less " Than its accustomed evenness : (IS t( And yet a thousand gaieties, • ; Without designing, or disguise, " Seemed, at some moments, to unite " That pensive charm with one more bright- " That bland with more inspiring power, " Each ever happiest in its hour, " And so she innocently won " Most admiration, seeking none. " Wherefore recall I from her grave " A grace, save such as angels have? " Her voice was for a heavenly ear, " Mild, but expressive, low, yet clear, " As preluding her doom — her hand, " Swayed with more powerful command, " Awoke to the bright themes she sung " A lofJer chord, how soon unstrung! " But, in the dawn of our delight, " Unguarded, hopeful, exquisite, " With melody more mirthful yet " She carolled the slow sun to set, 69 " And to domestic evenings gave " A charm which rose to gay from grave. " It brightened in her orphan hall u More lovely for one interval " Which her last cherished parent's doom " Had saddened with unwonted gloom ; " When, sinking in her widowhood, " Lamented by the kind and good, (e With her loved Lord Elfrida chose " An undivided last repose; " And lordly Harold, Avon's chief, " The feudal guardian of the fief, " Retained in paramount command " The orphan heiress and her land. " Preserving, as affection bade, " Some filial thoughts, serenely sad, " (Those consolations of the mind " Which keener sorrow leaves behind) " On russet Severnec she stood, " The pride and honor of the wood, 70 " And filled her solitary place " With duteous ease, and modest grace. " So, conquered by the smile I won, " So, pleased returning hers alone, " I thought that all beneath the sky " Conspired for our felicity, " And earth held none who would not bless " Our plighted love, or wished it less. " In full and bright tranquillity, " Fond and secure, the hours fled by, " And confidence a calm content " To moments almost bridal lent ; " Charmed and enchanting as they passed " In interchange of thought and taste — " A mutual course serenely run — " Our business and our leisure one. " It chanced through Severncc we str " 'Till we had gained its deepest shade ; " To counsel, sweet as uncon fined, " Succeeded silence not less kind, 71 " While both perhaps were pondering o'er " The hope so eloquent before. " Then I could easily confide " In all which promised me my bride ; " Her feudal liege had seldom spared " A thought for his neglected ward, " For, shrinking from his proud salute, " She paid him undistinguished suit ; " And if an orphan maid should claim " For so forlorn a fonder name, " It booted not to one so great " Who might partake her humble state. " While vainly musing thus we stood, " A pipe re-echoed from the wood — " The groves within each sylvan way " Repeated a light roundelay, " Which accents of a stranger's tongue " With intermissions gaily sung. " ' I love (the voice began) to try " ' My arrow in the trackless sky— " ' To swim the stream of depth tmfound — " * To Listen to unwound sound " ' I love to wander as I will " ' From scenes new gained to newer still, " ' And these are won to be resigned " ' For somewhat future undefined.' " The minstrel paused, then told again " His restless thought, without the strain. " ' My wild career had well been checked " ' By sophists of another sect ; " c And some in Harold's bowers there were— " e Beauteous enough, but too severe. " ' I Avould a nymph of so much art " e As just to fix this frolic heart, " ' Then yield her own at my request' — " He faultercd, and forbore the rest; " And, ere he found his song to aid " 'J'he meaning he had left unsaid, " How many youthful thoughts had passed " Between these numbers and the last ! 73 u ' A heedless spirit in its soar ' e Can fee] unhappily no more ' ' Than that there may be love like this, f * And those who merit have the bliss ; : c But, let the witchery proceed — 1 i Her, once hoped his, be his indeed, ' ' And where's the spell which will divide ' ( The plighted lover and his bride.' e I saw reluctant blushes streak ' My tender maiden's conscious cheek, ' And felt her timidly entwine 1 Her trembling yielded hand in mine, While whispering, k what will e'er divide < The plighted lover and his bride.' " We heard the tuneful wanderer's measure " With fond and undissembled pleasure ; " His thoughts seemed like our own believing — " His wishes bright as we were weaving : " Oh ! were there recollection found . " Accordant with that hopeful sound ! 74 " Our former way was soon retraced — " .My love before her mansion placed, " And we had interchanged adieu, t 1 When the musician came in view. " He met us with a frank address, " Inviting ease by gracefulness, " Such as the court and camp confer " Upon a youthful follower — " Accused his own desire to rove, " Which had impelled him to the grove, " And prayed refreshment and a guide — " The first her pleasing care supplied ; " I blithely Led him to regain " The nearest of Lord Harold's train, t\av6paito<; iyevofxyv, y.at vh vfiias av poi SojtS Mivavycrai rov cvepyeitovvms avBpumvi;. 127 IV. His sacristan, Edivellyn, bowed. — P. 54. Sacristan was a treasurer of the utensils or moveables of the church. The careless hours of simple men, Rejoicing, and religious too. — P. 55. In one of the divisions of the " Sentimental Journey," entitled " the Grace," Sterne has fully and beautifully illus- trated this imagination. " It was not till the middle of the second dance when, from some pauses in the movement, wherein they all seemed to look up, I fancied I could distinguish an elevation of spirit, different from that which is the cause or the effect of simple jollity. 12S In a word, I thought I beheld religion mingling in the dance, but, as I had never seen her so engaged, I should have looked upon it now as one of the illusions of an imagination, which is eternally misleading me, had not the old man, as soon as the dance was ended, said that this was their constant way ; and that all his life long he had made it a rule, after supper was over, to call out his family to dance and rejoice, believing, he said, that a cheerful and contented mind was the best sort of thanks to Heaven that an illiterate peasant could pay." And I shall conquer in this sign, Imperial Lord ! — P. 57. '* Constantine the Great, in prosecutiug his expedition into Italy against Maxentius, having resolved to lay aside the vulgar deities, and adhere to the God of his father to whom he humbly addressed himself, beseeching him to make himself known to him, and assist him in this expedition ; Heaven heard his prayer, and answered it in a manner so miraculous, that Eusebius acknowledges it would not have been credible, if he had not received it from the emperor's own mouth, who ratified the truth of it with his oath. The army was upon their march, and Constantine seriously employed in these devout ejaculations, when, the sun declining, there suddenly appeared a pillar of light in the Heavens in the 129 fashion of a cross, with this inscription about or upon it, TovtS viv.a, " In this overcome." This was a surprising sight to Constantine and his whole army ; and the commanders and officers, prompted by their auspices, looked upon it as an inauspicious omen, portending a very unfortunate expedition. But it made such a happy impression on the emperor's mind, that being farther encouraged by visions that night, he caused the next day a royal standard (or labarum) to be made like that which he had seen in the Heavens, and to be borne before him in his wars, as an ensign of victory and safety." Echard's Roman History. M. Ladvocat, in his Biographical Dictionary, under the head Constantine, has it, that the sign or monogram which was seen by the emperor, was properly a P cut by a strait line. The music of their sad farewell As from the fabled image fell. — P. 5$. The famous statue of Memnon, the son of Tithonus and Aurora, which, according to the fable, sent forth sounds of rejoicing, when the rays of the sun fell upon it, and lamentation, when they were withdrawn. A spear among ten thousand seen. — P. 58. Was there a shield or spear seen among forty thousand in Israel ? Song of Deborah and Barak. 130 Above the softly lavish sense Of all hut the first pair who loved. — P. 67- The idea of regarding our first parents as a model for conjugal affection has been pursued by Mrs. Hannah More with peculiar beauty and delicacy in several parts of her work from which the following passage is quoted. " Our mutual admiration of the " Paradise Lost," and its " heroine, seemed to bring us nearer together than we had yet " been." fVho, upon Liddel's lofty brink, Let slip their greyhounds from the link. — P. 74. Liddel Hill is one of the highest summits of the down between Swindon and Marlborough, and is in the vicinity of a spot chosen at the present day for the field sport alluded to in the poem. 131 Wyng Cliff's height.—?. 80. Wyng Cliff, or Wyng Hill, one of the loftiest points in Monmouthshire, rises almost immediately behind Piercefield. The view described in the text is from an eminence near the ascent, and appears to be one of those distinguished by Mr. Gilpin, in his book on the river Wye and South Wales, by the following observations. " The views on this side are not the romantic steeps of " the Wye : but though of another species, they are equally " grand. They are chiefly distances, consisting of the vast " waters of the Severn, here an arm of the sea ; bounded by a " remote country— of the mouth of the Wye entering the " Severn — and of the town of Chepstow, and its castle and " abbey ." 132 VI. lite hill and beaten road, And passed beside the narroiv cleft By yon long- scattered village left, £>