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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