For forty days and nights so drear, Amid the penitential flock, Seem'd none more bent to pray; But, when the Holy Father spoke, He rose and went his way. Again unto his native land His weary course he drew, His unblest feet his native seat, 'Mid Eske's fair woods, regain; [sweet Through woods more fair no stream more Rolls to the eastern main. And lords to meet the pilgrim came, And vassals bent the knee; And boldly for his country, still, There the rapt poet's step may rove, There Beauty, led by timid Love, And the convent bell did vespers tell, The heavy knell, the choir's faint swell, As his wonted path he did find. Deep sunk in thought, I ween, he was, Until he came to that dreary place, Hegazed on the walls, so scathed with fire, And there was aware of a Gray Friar, "Now, Christ save thee !" said the Gray Brother; "Some pilgrim thou seemest to be." But in sore amaze did Lord Albert gaze, Nor answer again made he. 'O come ye from east, or come ye from west, Or bring reliques from over the sea; Or come ye from the shrine of St. James the divine, Or St. John of Beverley?"— "I come not from the shrine of St. James the divine, Nor bring reliques from over the sea; I bring but a curse from our father, the Pope, Which for ever will cling to me." From that fair dome, where suit is paid, "Now, woeful pilgrim, say not so! By blast of bugle free,* To Auchendinny's hazel glade,* Who knows not Melville's beechy grove,* Yet never a path, from day to day, To Burndale's ruin'd grange. A woeful place was that, I ween, As sorrow could desire; [wall, For nodding to the fall was each crumbling And the roof was scathed with fire. But kneel thee down to me, And shrive thee so clean of thy deadly sin, That absolved thou mayest be."— "And who art thou, thou Gray Brother, That I should shrive to thee, When He, to whom are given the keys of earth and heaven, Has no power to pardon me?"— "O I am sent from a distant clime, The pilgrim kneel'd him on the sand, XXXVIII. And on the right, and on the left, Ere they could snatch a view, Fast, fast each mountain, mead, and plain, And cot, and castle, flew. XXXIX. XLIX. "Dost fear? dost fear? The moon shines Dost fear to ride with me?— [clear, Hurrah! hurrah! the dead can ride!"— "O William, let them be !L. "Sit fast-dost fear?-The moon shines "See there, see there! What yonderswings clear And creaks 'mid whistling rain?' "Gibbet and steel, th' accursed wheel; A murderer in his chain. LI. "Hollo! thou felon, follow here: To bridal bed we ride; And thou shalt prance a fetter-dance Before me and my bride."— LII. And, hurry! hurry! clash, clash, clash! And fleet as wind through hazel bush LIII. Tramp! tramp! along the land they rode, Splash! splash! along the sea; "Come with thy choir, thou coffin'd The scourge is red, the spur drops blood, guest, To swell our nuptial song! The flashing pebbles flee. LIV. Come, priest, to bless our marriage feast! How fled what moonshine faintly show'd! Come all, come all along!" How fled what darkness hid! How fled the earth beneath their feet, The heaven above their head! Reluctant on its rusty hinge With many a shriek and cry whiz round AN IMITATION OF THE "WILD JAGER" OF THE POET BUrger. THE Wildgrave winds his bugle horn, Two Stranger Horsemen join the train. The left, the swarthy hue of hell. Shot midnight lightning's lurid ray. To match the princely chase, afford?" "Cease thy loud bugle's changing knell," Cried the fair youth, with silver voice; "And for devotion's choral swell, Exchange the rude unhallow'd noise. "To-day the ill-omen'd chase forbear, Yon bell yet summons to the fane; To-day the Warning Spirit hear, To-morrow thou mayst mourn in vain.” "Away, and sweep the glades along!" The Sable Hunter hoarse replies; "To muttering monks leave matin-song, And bells, and books, and mysteries." The Wildgrave spurr'd his ardent steed, And, launching forward with a bound, "Who, for thy drowsy priestlike rede, Would leave the jovial horn and hound? "Hence, if our manly sport offend ! With pious fools go chant and pray:Well hast thou spoke, my dark-brow'd friend; Halloo, halloo! and, hark away!" The Wildgrave spurr'd his courser light, Each stranger Horseman follow'd still. A field with Autumn's blessings crown'd; |