And sidelong glanced, as to explore,
In meditated flight, the door.
"Sit," Bertram said, "from danger free:
Thou canst not, and thou shalt not, flee.
Chance brings me hither; hill and plain
I've sought for refuge-place in vain.1
And tell me now, thou aguish boy,
What makest thou here? what means this toy?
Denzil and thou, I mark'd, were ta'en;
What lucky chance unbound your chain?
I deem'd, long since on Baliol's tower,
Your heads were warp'd with sun and shower."
Tell me the whole-and, mark! nought e'er
Chafes me like falsehood, or like fear."
Gathering his courage to his aid,
But trembling still, the youth obey'd.
"Denzil and I two nights pass'd o'er
In fetters on the dungeon floor.
A guest the third sad morrow brought;
Our hold dark Oswald Wycliffe sought,
And eyed my comrade long askance,
With fix'd and penetrating glance.
"No surer shelter from the foe
Than what this cavern can bestow."]
perched in sun and shower."]
3 [MS." With the third morn that baron old,
Dark Oswald Wycliffe, sought the hold."]
'Guy Denzil art thou call'd?'- The same.'-
At Court who served wild Buckinghame;
Thence banish'd, won a keeper's place,
So Villiers will'd, in Marwood-chase;
That lost-I need not tell thee why-
Thou madest thy wit thy wants supply,
Then fought for Rokeby:-Have I guess'd
My prisoner right?'-'At thy behest.'-'
He paused awhile, and then went on
With low and confidential tone ;-
Me, as I judge, not then he saw,
Close nestled in my couch of straw.-
'List to me, Guy. Thou know'st the great
Have frequent need of what they hate;
Hence, in their favour oft we see
Unscrupled, useful men like thee.
Were I disposed to bid thee live,
What pledge of faith hast thou to give?'
"The ready Fiend, who never yet Hath failed to sharpen Denzil's wit, Prompted his lie-' His only child
Should rest his pledge.'-The Baron smiled, And turn'd to me
-Thou art his son?'
I bowed-our fetters were undone,
And we were led to hear apart
A dreadful lesson of his art.
1 [MS.-"And last didst ride in Rokeby's band.
Art thou the man?'-' At thy command.'"]
Wilfrid, he said, his heir and son,
Had fair Matilda's favour won;
And long since had their union been,
But for her father's bigot spleen,
Whose brute and blindfold party-rage
Would, force per force, her hand engage
To a base kern of Irish earth,
Unknown his lineage and his birth,
Save that a dying ruffian bore
The infant brat to Rokeby door.
Gentle restraint, he said, would lead
Old Rokeby to enlarge his creed;
But fair occasion he must find
For such restraint well-meant and kind,
The Knight being render'd to his charge
But as a prisoner at large.
"He school'd us in a well-forged tale, Of scheme the Castle walls to scale,1 To which was leagued each Cavalier That dwells upon the Tyne and Wear; That Rokeby, his parole forgot,
Had dealt with us to aid the plot.
Such was the charge, which Denzil's zeal Of hate to Rokeby and O'Neale
[MS." He school'd us then to tell a tale,
Of plot the Castle walls to scale,
To which had sworn each Cavalier."]
Proffer'd, as witness, to make good,
Even though the forfeit were their blood.
I scrupled, until o'er and o'er
His prisoners' safety Wycliffe swore;
And then-alas! what needs there more?
I knew I should not live to say
The proffer I refused that day;
Ashamed to live, yet loath to die,
I soil'd me with their infamy!
"Poor youth," said Bertram, "wavering still,' Unfit alike for good or ill!
But what fell next ? "Soon as at large 2
Was scroll'd and sign'd our fatal charge,
There never yet, on tragic stage,
Was seen so well a painted rage
As Oswald's show'd! With loud alarm
He call'd his garrison to arm;
From tower to tower, from post to post,
He hurried as if all were lost;
Consign'd to dungeon and to chain
The good old Knight and all his train;
Warn'd each suspected Cavalier,
Within his limits, to appear
Wavering alike in good and bad."]
66 O, when at large
Was scroll'd and sign'd our fatal charge,
You never yet, on tragic stage,
Beheld so well a painted rage."]
17
To-morrow, at the hour of noon,
In the high church of Eglistone.”—
"Of Eglistone! Even now I pass'd,”
Said Bertram, " as the night closed fast;
Torches and cressets gleam'd around,
I heard the saw and hammer sound,
And I could mark they toil'd to raise
A scaffold, hung with sable baize,
Which the grim headsman's scene display'd,
Block, axe, and sawdust ready laid.
Some evil deed will there be done,
Unless Matilda wed his son ;-
She loves him not-'tis shrewdly guess'd
That Redmond rules the damsel's breast.
This is a turn of Oswald's skill;
But I may meet, and foil him still!-
How camest thou to thy freedom?
Lies mystery more dark and rare.
In midst of Wycliffe's well-feign'd rage,
A scroll was offer'd by a page,
Who told, a muffled horseman late
Had left it at the Castle-gate.
He broke the seal-his cheek show'd change,
1 [After this line the MS. reads:
Although his soldiers snatch'd away,
When in my very grasp, my prey.
Edmund, how cam'st thou free?"-"O there
Lies mystery," &c.]
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