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Now a step or two her way
Is through space of open day,
Where the enamoured sunny light
Brightens her that was so bright;
Now doth a delicate shadow fall,
Falls upon her like a breath,
From some lofty arch or wall,
As she passes underneath:
Now some gloomy nook partakes
Of the glory that she makes,-
High-ribbed vault of stone, or cell
With perfect cunning framed as well
Of stone, and ivy, and the spread
Of the elder's bushy head;
Some jealous and forbidding cell,
That doth the living stars repel,

And where no flower hath leave to dwell.

The presence of this wandering Doe Fills many a damp obscure recess With lustre of a saintly show; And, re-appearing, she no less To the open day gives blessedness. But say, among these holy places, Which thus assiduously she paces, Comes she with a votary's task, Rite to perform, or boon to ask? Fair Pilgrim harbours she a sense Of sorrow, or of reverence?

Can she be grieved for quire or shrine,
Crushed as if by wrath divine?

For what survives of house where God
Was worshipped, or where Man abode;
For old magnificence undone;
Or for the gentler work begun
By Nature, softening and concealing,
And busy with a hand of healing,-
For altar, whence the cross was rent,
Now rich with mossy ornament,
Or dormitory's length laid bare,
Where the wild rose blossoms fair;
And sapling ash, whose place of birth
Is that lordly chamber's hearth?
-She sees a warrior carved in stone,
Among the thick weeds, stretched alone
A warrior, with his shield of pride
Cleaving humbly to his side,
And hands in resignation prest,
Paim to palm, on his tranquil breast:
Methinks she passeth by the sight,
As a common creature might:
If she be doomed to inward care,
Or service, it must lie elsewhere.

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The day is placid in its going,
To a lingering motion bound,
Like the river in its flowing-
Can there be a softer sound?
So the balmy minutes pass,
While this radiant Creature lies
Couched upon the dewy grass,
Pensively with downcast eyes.
-When now again the people rear
A voice of praise, with awful cheer!
It is the last, the parting song;

And from the temple forth they throng-
And quickly spread themselves abroad-
While each pursues his several road.
But some, a variegated band,
Of middle-aged, and old, and young,
And little children by the hand
Upon their leading mothers hung,
Turn, with obeisance gladly paid,
Towards the spot, where, full in view,
The lovely Doe of whitest hue,
Her sabbath couch has made.

It was a solitary mound;

Which two spears' length of level ground Did from all other graves divide:

As if in some respect of pride;

Or melancholy's sickly mood,
Still shy of human neighbourhood;
Or guilt, that humbly would express
A penitential loneliness.

«Look, there she is, my Child! draw near; She fears not, wherefore should we fear? She means no harm;»-but still the Boy, To whom the words were softly said, Hung back, and smiled and blushed for joy, A shame-faced blush of glowing red! Again the Mother whispered low, «Now you have seen the famous Doe; From Rylstone she hath found her way Over the hills this sabbath-day; Her work, whate'er it be, is done, And she will depart when we are gone; Thus doth she keep from year to year, Her sabbath morning, foul or fair.»

This whisper soft repeats what he Had known from early infancy. Bright is the Creature-as in dreams The Boy had seen her-yea more bright; But is she truly what she seems? He asks with insecure delight,

Asks of himself-and doubts-and still
The doubt returns against his will:
Though he, and all the standers-by,
Could tell a tragic history

Of facts divulged, wherein appear
Substantial motive, reason clear,
Why thus the milk-white Doe is found
Couchant beside that lonely mound;
And why she duly loves to pace
The circuit of this hallowed place.
Nor to the Child's inquiring mind
Is such perplexity confined:

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Pass, pass who will, yon chantry door; (6)
And, through the chink in the fractured floor
Look down, and see a griesly sight;

A vault where the bodies are buried upright!
There, face by face, and hand by hand,
The Claphams and Mauleverers stand;
And, in his place, among son and sire,
Is John de Clapham, that fierce Esquire,
A valiant man, and a name of dread,

In the ruthless wars of the White and Red;
Who dragged Earl Pembroke from Banbury church,
And smote off his head on the stones of the porch!
Look down among them, if
you dare;
Oft does the White Doe loiter there,
Prying into the darksome rent;
Nor can it be with good intent ;-
So thinks that Dame of haughty air,
Who hath a Page her book to hold,
And wears a frontlet edged with gold.
Well may her thoughts be harsh for she
Numbers among her ancestry
Earl Pembroke, slain so impiously!

That slender Youth, a scholar pale,
From Oxford come to his native vale,
He also hath his own conceit;
It is, thinks he, the gracious Fairy,

Who loved the Shepherd Lord to meet (7)
In his wanderings solitary:

Wild notes she in his hearing sang,

A song of Nature's hidden powers;
That whistled like the wind, and rang
Among the rocks and holly bowers.
'T was said that she all shapes could wear;
And oftentimes before him stood,
Amid the trees of some thick wood,

In semblance of a lady fair;

And taught him signs, and showed him sights,
In Craven's dens, on Cumbrian heights;
When under cloud of fear he lay,
A Shepherd clad in homely grey,
Nor left him at his later day.

And hence, when he, with spear and shield,
Rode full of years to Flodden field,
His сус could see the hidden spring,
And how the current was to flow;
The fatal end of Scotland's King,
And all that hopeless overthrow.
But not in wars did he delight,

This Clifford wished for worthier might;
Nor in broad pomp, or courtly state:
Him his own thoughts did elevate,—
Most happy in the shy recess

Of Barden's humble quietness.

And choice of studious friends had he
Of Bolton's dear fraternity;

Who, standing on this old church tower,
In many a calm propitious hour,
Perused, with him, the starry sky;
Or, in their cells, with him did pry
For other lore,-through strong desire
Searching the earth with chemie fire:
But they and their good works are fled-
And all is now disquieted-
And peace is none, for living or dead!

Ah, pensive Scholar, think not so, But look again at the radiant Doe! What quiet watch she seems to keep, Alone, beside that grassy heap!

Why mention other thoughts unmect For vision so composed and sweet? While stand the people in a ring, Gazing, doubting, questioning; Yea, many overcome in spite Of recollections clear and bright; Which yet do unto some impart An undisturbed repose of heart. And all the assembly own a law Of orderly respect and awe; But see-they vanish, one by one, And last, the Doe herself is gone.

Harp! we have been full long beguiled By busy dreams, and fancies wild; To which, with no reluctant strings, Thou hast attuned thy murmurings; And now before this Pile we stand In solitude, and utter peace:

But, harp! thy murmurs may not ceaseThou hast breeze-like visitings;

For a Spirit with angel wings

Hath touched thee, and a Spirit's hand:

A voice is with us-a command

To chant, in strains of heavenly glory,

A tale of tears, a mortal story!

CANTO II.

THE Harp in lowliness obeyed;

And first we sang of the green-wood shade,
And a solitary Maid;

Beginning, where the song must end,
With her, and with her sylvan Friend;
The Friend who stood before her sight,
Her only unextinguished light;
Her last companion in a dearth
Of love, upon a hopeless earth.

For She it was-this Maid, who wrought
Meekly, with foreboding thought,
In vermeil colours and in gold

An unblest work; which, standing by,
Her Father did with joy behold,-
Exulting in the imagery;
A Banner, one that did fulfil
Too perfectly his headstrong will:
For on this Banner had her hand
Embroidered (such was the command)
The Sacred Cross; and figured there

The five dear wounds our Lord did bear;
Full soon to be uplifted high,
And float in rueful company!

It was the time when England's Queen
Twelve years had reigned, a Sovereign dread;
Nor yet the restless crown had been
Disturbed upon her virgin head;
But now the inly-working North
Was ripe to send its thousands forth,
A potent vassalage, to fight

In Percy's and in Neville's right,
Two Earls fast leagued in discontent,
Who gave their wishes open vent;
And boldly urged a general plea,
The rites of ancient piety
To be triumphantly restored,
By the dread justice of the sword!

And that same Banner, on whose breast
The blameless Lady had exprest
Memorials chosen to give life
And sunshine to a dangerous strife;
That Banner, waiting for the call,
Stood quietly in Rylstone Hall.

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But not for lordship or for land,

My Father, do I clasp your knees-
The Banner touch not, stay your hand,—
This multitude of men disband,
And live at home in blaineless ease;
For these my brethren's sake, for me;
And, most of all, for Emily!»

Loud noise was in the crowded hall,
And scarcely could the Father hear
That name-which had a dying fall,
The name of his only Daughter dear,—
And on the banner which stood near
He glanced a look of holy pride,
And his moist eyes were glorified;
Then seized the staff, and thus did say:
« Thou, Richard, bear'st thy father's name,
Keep thou this ensign till the day
When I of thee require the same:
Thy place be on my better hand;-
And seven as true as thou, I see,

Will cleave to this good cause and me.»>
He spake, and eight brave sons straightway
All followed him, a gallant band!

Forth when Sire and Sons appeared
A gratulating shout was reared,
With din of arms and minstrelsy,

From all his warlike tenantry,

All horsed and harnessed with him to ride; -A shout to which the hills replied!

But Francis, in the vacant hall, Stood silent under dreary weight,A phantasm, in which roof and wall Shook-tottered-swam before his sight; A phantasm like a dream of night! Thus overwhelmed, and desolate, He found his way to a postern-gate; And, when he waked at length, his eye Was on the calm and silent sky; With air about him breathing sweet, And earth's green grass beneath his feet; Nor did he fail ere long to hear

A sound of military cheer,

Faint-but it reached that sheltered spot; He heard, and it disturbed him not.

There stood he, leaning on a lance Which he had grasped unknowingly,Had blindly grasped in that strong trance, That dimness of heart agony;

There stood he, cleansed from the despair
And sorrow of his fruitless prayer.
The past he calmly hath reviewed:
But where will be the fortitude
Of this brave Man, when he shall see
That Form beneath the spreading tree,
And know that it is Emily?

Oh hide them from each other, hide,
Kind Heaven, this pair severely tried!

He saw her where in open view She sate beneath the spreading yew,— Her head upon her lap, concealing In solitude her bitter feeling;

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<< Gone are they, bravely, though misled;
With a dear Father at their head!
The Sons obey a natural lord;
The Father had given solemn word
To noble Percy, and a force,

Still stronger, bends him to his course.
This said, our tears to-day may fall

As at an innocent funeral.

In deep and awful channel runs
This sympathy of Sire and Sons;
Untried our Brothers were beloved,
And now their faithfulness is proved;
For faithful we must call them, bearing
That soul of conscientious daring.
-There were they all in circle-there
Stood Richard, Ambrose, Christopher,
John with a sword that will not fail,
And Marmaduke in fearless mail,
And those bright Twins were side by side;
And there, by fresh hopes beautified,
Stood He, whose arm yet lacks the power
Of man, our youngest, fairest flower!
I, by the right of eldest born,
And in a second father's place,
Presumed to grapple with their scorn,
And meet their pity face to face;
Yea, trusting in God's holy aid,
I to my Father knelt and prayed,
And one, the pensive Marmaduke,
Methought, was yielding inwardly,
And would have laid his purpose by,
But for a glance of his Father's eye,
Which I myself could scarcely brook.

<< Then be we, cach, and all, forgiven!
Thee, chiefly thee, my Sister dear,
Whose pangs are registered in heaven,
The stifled sigh, the hidden tear,

And smiles, that dared to take their place,
Meek filial smiles, upon thy face,
As that unhallowed Banner grew
Beneath a loving old man's view.
Thy part is done-thy painful part;
Be thou then satisfied in heart!
A further, though far easier, task
Than thine hath been, my duties ask;
With theirs my efforts cannot blend,
I cannot for such cause contend;

Their aims I utterly forswear;
But I in body will be there.

Unarmed and naked will I go,

Be at their side, come weal or woe:
On kind occasions I may wait,
See, hear, obstruct, or mitigate.
Bare breast I take and an empty hand. » —
Therewith he threw away the lance,
Which he had grasped in that strong trance,
Spurned it-like something that would stand
Between him and the pure intent

Of love on which his soul was bent.

« For thee, for thee, is left the sense
Of trial past without offence
To God or Man;-such innocence,
Such consolation, and the excess
Of an unmerited distress;
In that thy very strength must lie.
-O Sister, I could prophesy!

The time is come that rings the knell
Of all we loved, and loved so well;
Hope nothing, if thus may speak
To thee a woman, and thence weak;
Hope nothing, I repeat; for we
Are doomed to perish utterly:
'Tis meet that thou with me divide
The thought while I am by thy side,
Acknowledging a grace in this,

A comfort in the dark abyss:
But look not for me when I am gone,
And be no farther wrought upon.
Farewell all wishes, all debate,

All prayers for this cause, or for that!
Weep, if that aid thee; but depend
Upon no help of outward friend;
Espouse thy doom at once, and cleave
To fortitude without reprieve.

For we must fall, both we and ours,-
This Mansion and these pleasant bowers,
Walks, pools, and arbours, homestead, ball,
Our fate is theirs, will reach them all;
The young Horse mest forsake his manger,
And learn to glory in a Stranger;
The Hawk forget his perch-the Hound
Be parted from his ancient ground:
The blast will sweep us all away,

One desolation, one decay!

And even this Creature!» which words saying
He pointed to a lovely Doe,

A few steps distant, feeding, straying;
Fair Creature, and more white than snow!

« Even she will to her peaceful woods
Return, and to her murmuring floods,
And be in heart and soul the same
She was before she hither came,-
Ere she had learned to love us all,
Herself beloved in Rylstone Hall.
-But thou, my Sister, doomed to be
The last leaf which by heaven's decree
Must hang upon a blasted tree;

If not in vain we breathed the breath
Together of a purer faith-

If hand in hand we have been led,
And thou, (O happy thought this day!)
Not seldom foremost in the way-

See the Old Ballad, The Rising of the North.

If on one thought our minds have fed,
And we have in one meaning read—
If, when at home our private weal

Hath suffered from the shock of zeal,
Together we have learned to prize
Forbearance and self-sacrifice-
If we like combatants have fared,
And for this issue been prepared-
If thou art beautiful, and youth

And thought endue thee with all truth-
Be strong;-be worthy of the grace
Of God, and fill thy destined place:
A Soul, by force of sorrows high.
Uplified to the purest sky
Of undisturbed humanity!»

He ended, or she heard no more: He led her from the Yew-tree shade, And at the Mansion's silent door, He kissed the consecrated Maid; And down the Valley he pursued, Alone, the armèd Multitude.

CANTO III.

Now joy for you and sudden cheer,

Ye Watchmen upon Brancepeth Towers; (8) Looking forth in doubt and fear,

Telling melancholy hours!

Proclaim it, let your Masters hear
That Norton with his Band is near!
The Watchmen from their station high
Pronounced the word,-and the Earls descry
Forthwith the armed Company
Marching down the banks of Were.

Said fearless Norton to the Pair
Gone forth to hail him on the plain-
This meeting, noble Lords! looks fair,
I bring with me a goodly traiu;

Their hearts are with you:-hill and dale

Have helped us :- Ure we crossed, and Swale,
And horse and harness followed-see
The best part of their Yeomanry!

-Stand forth, my Sons!-these eight are mine,
Whom to this service I commend;
Which way soe'er our fate incline,
These will be faithful to the end;
They are my all-voice failed him here,
My all save one, a Daughter dear!
Whom I have left, the mildest birth,
The meekest Child on this blessed earth.
I had-but these are by my side,
These eight, and this is a day of pride!
The time is ripe-with festive dia
Lo! how the people are flocking in,-
Like hungry Fowl to the Feeder's hand
When snow lies heavy upon the land. »

He spake bare truth; for far and near From every side came noisy swarms Of Peasants in their homely gear; Aid, mixed with these, to Brancepeth came

Grave Gentry of estate and name,
And Captains known for worth in arms;
And prayed the Earls in self-defence

To rise, and prove their innocence.-
«Rise, noble Earls, put forth your might
For holy Church, and the People's right!»

His

The Norton fixed, at this demand,

eye upon Northumberland,
And said, «The Minds of Men will own
No loyal rest while England's Crown
Remains without an Heir, the bait
Of strife and factions desperate;
Who, paying deadly hate in kind
Through all things else, in this can find
A mutual hope, a common mind;
And plot, and pant to overwhelm
All ancient honour in the realm.
-Brave Earls! to whose heroic veins
Our noblest blood is given in trust,
To you a suffering State complains,
And ye must raise her from the dust.
With wishes of still bolder scope
On you we look, with dearest hope,
Even for our Altars,-for the prize
In Heaven, of life that never dies;

For the old and holy Church we mourn,
And must in joy to her return.

Behold!»-and from his Son whose stand
Was on his right, from that guardian hand
He took the Banner, and unfurled

The precious folds-«behold,» said he,

The ransom of a sinful world;

Let this your preservation be,

The wounds of hands and feet and side,
And the sacred Cross on which Jesus died!
-This bring I from an ancient hearth,
These Records wrought in pledge of love
By hands of no ignoble birth,

A Maid o'er whom the blessed Dove
Vouchsafed in gentleness to brood
While she the holy work pursued.»
« Uplift the Standard!» was the cry
From all the Listeners that stood round,
« Plant it,—by this we live or die»-
The Norton ceased not for that sound,
But said, «The prayer which ye have heard,
Much injured Earls! by these preferred,
Is offered to the Saints, the sigh
Of tens of thousands, secretly.»

<< Uplift it!» cried once more the Band,
And then a thoughtful pause ensued.
Uplift it!» said Northumberland—
Whereat, from all the multitude,
Who saw the Banner reared on high
In all its dread emblazonry,
With tumult and indignant rout
A voice of uttermost joy brake out :

The transport was rolled down the river of Were, And Durham, the time-honoured Durham, did hear, And the Towers of Saint Cuthbert were stirred by the shout!

Now was the North in arms-they shine In warlike trim from Tweed to Tyne,

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