And near the fountain, flowers of stature tall And thither, when the summer-days were long, The Knight, Sir Walter, died in course of time, PART II. THE moving accident is not my trade, As I from Hawes to Richmond did repair, What this imported I could ill divine: The trees were grey, with neither arms nor head; « Here in old time the hand of man hath been.»> I look'd upon the hill both far and near, I stood in various thoughts and fancies lost, The Shepherd stopp'd, and that same story told «You see these lifeless Stumps of aspen woodSome say that they are beeches, others elmsThese were the Bower: and here a mansion stood, The finest palace of a hundred realms! « The Arbour does its own condition tell; You see the Stones, the Fountain, and the Stream; But as to the great Lodge! you might as well Hunt half a day for a forgotten dream. «There's neither dog nor heifer, horse nor sheep, << Some say that here a murder has been done, And blood cries out for blood: but, for my part, I've guess'd, when I've been sitting in the sun, That it was all for that unhappy Hart. What thoughts must through the Creature's brain have past! Even from the topmost Stone, upon the Steep, « For thirteen hours he ran a desperate race; << Here on the grass perhaps asleep he sank, Lull'd by this fountain in the summer-tide; This water was perhaps the first he drank When he had wander'd from his mother's side. << In April here beneath the scented thorn <«< Now, here is neither grass nor pleasant shade; Till Trees, and Stones, and Fountain, all are gone.»> « Grey-headed Shepherd, thou hast spoken well; <<The Being that is in the clouds and air, << She leaves these objects to a slow decay, « One lesson, Shepherd, let us two divide, « From Town to Town, from Tower to Tower, The Red Rose is a gladsome Flower. Her thirty years of Winter past, The Red Rose is revived at last; She lifts her head for endless spring, Both Roses flourish, Red and White. The two that were at strife are blended, tory, was the person who after the battle of Wakefield slew, in the persuit, the young Earl of Rutland, son of the Duke of York, who had fallen in the battle, in part of revenge (say the Authors of the History of Cumberland and Westmorland); for the Earl's Father had slain his. A deed which worthily blemished the author (aith Speed); bat who, as he adds, dare promise any thing temperate of himself in the beat of martial fury? chiefly, when it was solved not to leave any branch of the York line standing; for so ea maketh this Lord to speak. This, no doubt, I would observe by the bye, was an action sufficiently in the vindictive spirit of the umes, and yet not altogether so bad as represented; for the Earl was no child, as some writers would have him, but able to Lear arma, being sixteen or seventeen years of age, as is evident from this (say the Memoirs of the Countess of Pembroke, who was laudally anxious to wipe away, as far as could be, this stigma from the illustrious name to which she was born), that he was the next Child to King Edward the Fourth, which his mother had by Richard Dake of York, and that King was then eighteen years of age: and for the small distance betwist her Children, see Austin Vincent in bs look of Nobility, page 622, where he writes of them all. It may further he observed, that Lord Clifford, who was then himself only twenty-five years of age, had been a leading Man and Commander, two or three years together in the army of Lancaster, before this time; and, therefore, would be less likely to think that the Earl of Rutland might be entitled to mercy from his youth.-But, independent of this art, at best a cruel and savage one, the Family of Clifford had done enough to draw upon them the vehement hatred of the House of York: so that after the Battle of Towton there was no hope for them but in flight and concealment. Henry, the subt of the Poom, was deprived of his estate and honours during the space of twenty-four years; all which time he lived as a shepherd in Yorkshire, or in Cumberland, where the estate of his Father-inlaw (Sir Lancelot Threlkeld) lay. He was restored to his estate and bouncers in the first year of Henry the Seventh. It is recorded that, when call to parliament, he behaved nobly and wisely; but otherwise came seldom to London or the Court; and rather defighted to live in the country, where he repaired several of his Casles, which had gone to decay during the late troubles. = is chiefly collected from Nicholson and Burn; and I can add, from my own knowledge, that there is a tradition current in the village of Threlkeld and its neighbourhood, his principal retreat, that, in the course of his shepherd-life, he had acquired great astronomical knowledge. I cannot conclude this note without adding a word apon the subject of those numerous and noble feudal Edifices, spoken of in the Poem, the rains of some of which are, at this day, so „Test an ornament to that interesting country. The Cliffords had always been distinguished for an honourable pride in these Castles; and we have seen that after the wars of York and Lancaster thay were rebuilt; in the civil wars of Charles the First they were again laid waste, and again restored almost to their former magnificence by the celebrated Lady Anne Clifford, Countess of Pembroke, etc. Not more than twenty-five years after this was done, when the estates of Clifford had passed into the Family of Tuftoa, three of these Castles, namely, Brough, Erougham, and Pendragon, were demolished, and the timber and other materials sold by Thomas Earl of Thanet. We will hope that, when this order was issued, the Earl had not consulted the text of laaiah, 58th Chapter, 12th Verse, to which the inscription placed over the gate of Pendragon Castle, by the Contras of Pembroke (I believe his Grandmother) at the time she repaired that structure, refers the reader. And they that shall be of the shall build the old waste places; thou shalt raise foundations of many generations; and thou shalt be called the repairer of the breach, the restorer of paths to dwell in. The Earl of Thanet, i de present possessor of the Estates, with a due respect for the me sary of bis ancestors, and a proper sense of the value and beauty of these remains of antiquity, has (1 am told) given orders that they shall be preserved from all depredations. Thus far the Behold her how She smiles to-day On this great throng, this bright array! . Fair greeting doth she send to all From every corner of the Hall; But, chiefly, from above the Board Where sits in state our rightful Lord, A Clifford to his own restored! «They came with banner, spear, and shield; And it was proved in Bosworth-field. Not long the Avenger was withstoodEarth helped him with the cry of blood: St George was for us, and the might Of blessed Angels crowned the right. Loud voice the Land has uttered forth, We loudest in the faithful North: Our Fields rejoice, our Mountains ring, Our Streams proclaim a welcoming; Our Strong-abodes and Castles see The glory of their loyalty. « How glad is Skipton at this hour- Of all her guardian sons bereft- «Oh! it was a time forlorn Now Who is he that bounds with joy Ou Carrock's side, a Shepherd Boy? This line is from the battle of Bosworth Field by Sir John Beaumont (Brother to the Dramatist), whose poems are written with much spirit, elegance, and harmony; and have deservedly been reprinted lately in Chalmers's Collection of English Poets. 13 «Alas! when evil men are strong The Boy must part from Mosedale's Groves, << A recreant Harp, that sings of fear I said, when evil Men are strong, That learned of him submissive ways; To his side the Fallow-deer In their immortality; They moved about in open sight, He knew the Rocks which Angels haunt On the Mountains visitant; He hath kenned them taking wing: It is imagined by the people of the country, that there are two immortal Fish, inhabitants of this Tarn, which lies in the mountains not far from Threlkeld.-Blencathara, mentioned before, is the old and proper name of the mountain vulgarly called Saddle back. He hath entered; and been told On the blood of Clifford calls;—1 Is the longing of the Shield- Like a glory from afar, First shall head the Flock of War!» Alas! the fervent Harper did not know Love had he found in huts where poor Men lie; In him the savage Virtue of the Race, Revenge, and all ferocious thoughts were dead: Glad were the Vales, and every cottage hearth; << The Good Lord Clifford» was the name he bore. YES, it was the mountain Echo, Answering to the shouting Cuckoo, Unsolicited reply To a babbling wanderer sent; Hears not also mortal Life? Hear not we, unthinking Creatures! Voices of two different Natures? The martial character of the Cliffords is well known to the resul e's of English History; but it may not be improper here to say, by way of comment on these lines and what follows, that, besides several others who perished in the same manner, the four immedines Progenitors of the Person in whose hearing this is supposed to be spoken, all died in the Field. Have not We too?—yes, we have Answers, and we know not whence; Echoes from beyoud the grave, Recognized intelligence? Such rebounds our inward ear Often catches from afar ;Giddy Mortals! hold them dear; For of God, of God they are. TO A SKY-LARK. ETHEREAL Minstrel! Pilgrim of the sky! To the last point of vision, and beyond, Mount, daring Warbler! that love-prompted strain, Leave to the Nightingale her shady wood; It is no Spirit who from Heaven hath flown, Nor Traveller gone from Earth the Heavens to espy! For yet it is broad daylight! clouds pass by; lle hath it to himself-t is all his own. O most ambitious Star! thy Presence brought A startling recollection to my mind Of the distinguished few among mankind, Some ground not mine; and, strong her strength above, Tread there, with steps that no one shall reprove! FRENCH REVOLUTION, AS IT APPEARED TO ENTHUSIASTS AT ITS COMMENCE1 MENT. REPRINTED FROM THE FRIEND. » On! pleasant exercise of hope and joy! For mighty were the Auxiliars, which then stood But to be young was very heaven!-Oh! times, In which the meagre, stale, forbidding ways This, and the Extract, page 23, and the first Piece of this Class, are from the unpublished Poem of which some account is given in the Preface to the Exccasion. Of custom, law, and statute, took at once ODE. THE PASS OF KIRKSTONE. WITHIN the mind strong fancies work, Where, save the rugged road, we find Green moss-grown tower; or hoary tent; Lawns, houses, chattels, groves, and fields, O care! O guilt!-O vales and plaius, Most potent when mists veil the sky, While the coarse rushes, to the sweeping breeze, List to those shriller notes!-that march When, through this Height's inverted arch, -They saw, adventurously impelled, This block--and yon, whose Church-like frame Be thankful, even though tired and faint, My Soul was grateful for delight -Who comes not hither ne'er shall know And who is she?-Can that be Joy! While Faith, from yonder opening cloud, « Whate'er the weak may dread, the wicked dare, Thy lot, O Man, is good, thy portion fair!»> EVENING ODE, COMPOSED UPON AN EVENING OF EXTRAORDINARY HAD this effulgence disappeared But 't is endued with power to stay, Or, ranged like stars along some sovereign height, Than doth this silent spectacle-the gleam- No sound is uttered,-but a deep And solemn harmony pervades The hollow vale from steep to steep, Herds range along the mountain side; Thine is the tranquil hour, purpureal Eve! An intermingling of Heaven's pomp is spread And, if there be whom broken ties And with immortal Spirits blend! On those bright steps that heaven-ward raise Come forth, ye drooping old men, look abroad, In these lines I am under obligation to the exquisite picture of Jacob's Dream, by Mr Alstone, now in America. It is pleasant to make this public acknowledgment to a man of genius, whom I have the honour to rank among my friends. |