Cornell University Library 1 4794.H4K9 Kynwfth 3 1924 013 483 502 The date shows tva thi^i volume was taken. All books not in use for instruction or rer search are limited- to four weeks to all bor- rowers. Periodicals of a gen- eral character should be returned as soon as possible ; when needed beyond two weeks a special request should be made. All student borrow^ ers are limited to two weeks, with renewfil privileges, when the book is not needed by others. Books not needed during recess periods should be returned to the library, or arrange- ments made for their return during borrow- er's absence, if wanted. ' Books needed by more than one person belong on the reserve list. The original of tliis bool< is in tine Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924013483502 KYNWITH. RoBEP\T -B. j^OLT. LONDON : LONGMANS, GREEN, READER & DYER. 1868. 5 [The right of Translation is reserved.'} HOCORQUODALE AND CO., FBINTEB8, "THE ABKOUBY," SOUTHWAEK, LOMDON. CONTENTS. KTNWITH. Canto I. „ n. „ III. „ IV. FAOE. 1 . 39 71 . 107 143 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. Truth LilUe The Morning Breeze ... The Siok Child A Prayer A ChristmaB Hymn The Lost One Sailor's Song The Past Day duiing the Crimean War Johnny Church ... To Miss The First Cigar The Ringlet Father-Land The Lost Friend . 183 185 . 186 187 . 188 189 . 191 193 , 194 196 200 201 203 204 206 ((Sntertb at glaticraas' lall.) INTEODUGTION. T WAS alone and somewhat out of health ; Care-stricken too, for I had miss'd the wealth I hoped to gather ; so I sought repose In northern Devon, where my fancy chose A quiet spot that seemed to promise all My heart could wish for ; which would not recall Old scenes of toil and sorrow, while kind fiiends Were not too distant, but could make amends For hours of soHtude, and sometimes share Small pleasures with me. So I lingered there Four pleasant weeks, and heard a local tale I would rememher — fearing I should fail, Began to write it. Then ambition burned For higher praises than I yet had earned VI INTRODUCTION. As merry rhymer ; I would be esteemed More than a. jester, with light mind that dreamed Only of laughter ; I would win respect From those I loved, and, with sound thought correct Misapprehension. So my weeks were gone And I returned ; yet stUl my task went on For other weeks, until I came to feel 'Twas my old life I struggled to reveal In this new being ; I would draw aside The veU of years Time fashioned to divide The past and present^would bring out once more The man I had been in the days of yore, To measure me beside him — try our worth In moral scales, and see which had least earth To clog and darken. Now I forth would send This shadow-self to see if any friend INTRODUCTION. Til Will take it for the substance, so that he Can. give it welcome for the sake of me. But onedear friend that I had hoped would read Can read no longer ; God meantime has freed Her spirit from its bondage, so she dwells Where dwell the angels, and new sorrow swells T^he hearts that loved her. They have learnt the pain Which springs from absence, that can ne'er again On earth be ended ; so we needs must weep That she has joy, until we too shall sleep, And wake in death, to find all friends restored Who left us hopefiil, trusting in the Lord. KTNWITH. CANTO I, Myself and mine to God were dedicate, As part and parcel of that high estate Which kept the keys of knowledge, and locked out TJneasy-soul'd progenitors of doubt, Who spied too closely, and the flock would lead Beyond our pastures of time-honor'd creed. Where Truth, encumber'd with purloined disguise. Could brave the scrutiny of tutor'd eyes ; And shivering lambs deny, with bleated scorn, The fleece she flaunted, shepherd hands had shorn. B A KTNWITH. 'Twas by my mother's wish that I became A dull crown-shaven thing, of priestly name — Put youthful dreams and energies aside, And buried earthly hope, and love, and pride Within the cloister's tomb ; for she, poor soul, Left all alone — no husband to control Her woman fancies — and by cleric plied. Like ghostly darkness shadow'd at her side, "With constant falter'd hopes, that souls unshriven Might, through God's mercy, find access to heaven ; Till from much hoping sprang a wifely fear About the lord her mem'ry held so dear, Whose soul from earthly tenement was driven, Without one fault or sin pronounced forgiven By God's anointed minister ; so she Had no safe voucher what Ms lot might be. And then 'twas hinted, by my father's son To G-od devoted, grace might yet be won ; And his self-sacrifice sure bliss obtain. While purchased masses leaguer'd Heaven in vain. KTNWITH. •: What could I do ? My elder brother swore It should not be. Poor mother wept the more ; My brother grieved to see her ill-content. The father, stiU upon his end intent, Plied every art, and won him to relent ; So I was married to the Church, and taught By my devotion blessings could be bought For my dead father. Oh, what prayers I prayed Through the long midnight hours ! what fasts I made! Until at last my body grew so thin. It scarce had bulk to harbour life therein. This grieved our abbot ; for if I should die. Great hopes died with me. Wealth in large supply Was mine, or his, and could not be denied, If I survived my mother. If I died Before God called her, then my gold and land Fell, as of right, into my brother's hand. Who hated priests, and, in his stubborn pride, Despised their blessing, and their curse defied. ■i KYNWITH. I was one evening kneeling in my cell, Praying iacessantly ; whilst often fell The knotted girdle on my naked flesh, Tearing old scars, or wounding me afresh. The door was opened, in the abbot came, And oUy blessings wedded to my name ; Called me his dear, good son, his hope and pride, Whose high endeavour daily edi&ed ; But said that, grown too saintly, I forgot Life was compound existence, and could not To any smgle duty be confined. However good. Our Maker had designed That we should use all faculties he gave. Each for its proper end, thai each might save Some treasure floatfaig past in Time's swift wave From dark oblivion, and Increase the store Of wealth, material, or thought- waking lore, That men have garnered in all ages past, As we should garner stiU while time shall last. KTNWITH. So spake the abbot ; and his specious tongue Such gilded sequence on submission hung, That I, who 'gan reluctantly to find Weakness of body bred not strength of mind, Yielded my will to his, and gave my zeal To toilsome bondage for the common weal ; Content to serve, while privileged to ask — A soul-absorbing, unrequited task — ■ For some great purpose that had power to bind More close to Heaven each faculty of mind, Until my hfe, refined from selfish care, Should rise to God one pure unending prayer. So full of all he wiUed and loved the best, It needs must win his smile and my request. Our abbot's funds had grown dilapidate ; So the good father must abridge his state, Or find some means his wealth to renovate ; And as he never loved the less in aught, 'Mongst other things, persistently he sought 6 KTNWITH. For that strange stone, to which the wise impute A wondi-ous power and yirtne, to transmute Base substances to gold. Were this obtained, All he lamented was at once regained ; Nay, he and his the envy would command Of ev'ry rival, and throughout the land Shine as the sun of plenty's happy day, Driving dark night of poverty away. It was his hidden wish that I should aid An aged monk, who constant effort made To learn this secret, and lived but to pore O'er ancient volumes, seeking to explore Each magic case, and disinter once more That rod of wisdom sages grasped of yore, And bade great kings bow down and own the sway That spirits dreaded, but must needs obey. This was his wish, and my monastic vow Would of his will no questioning allow — KTiTWTTH. 'Twas but to speak, and instantly command Full uncomplaining service of my hand ; But would my heart work with it and take part, Or should I shrink from church-forbidden art, ( As from temptation to a mortal sin Whence Satan ruin to my cause might win ;) And for his purpose, he be doomed to find The body profitless without the mind. First, then, he gave preliminary task, Such as a saint might love, or angel ask — A clear transcription of some holy writ. That aged eyes might safer follow it. And then old legends of God-minded men, Whose holy lives I hoped to live again, So that admiring CcEnobites might see AU forms of holiness comprised in me ; And then at times a treatise, which explained How some most worthy end of life was gained ; 8 KTirWITH. Best mode of husbandry, sage code of laws, Or guide for craftsman, that existence draws From daily labour. Then came, fitfully, Scrolls in strange language, that profest to be Lucid exponents of philosophy. But which might 'wilder wiser men than me. All these were copied, and I learned from each Some of the wisdom it was meant to teach. Then came the wish to know, subdued at first. But, e^er waxing, grew to fever'd thirst. That master'd prudence, tiU I drank at last From every stream that, wooing, rippled past. One day a long and wondrous scroll was brought, ■ Which I read through and through, but vainly sought To grasp its meaning. I found only words Wrought into sentences, where beasts and birds, And creeping things, mixed up with common phrase And some strange character ; whUe months and days , KurwiTH. y At times were mentioned, but connection bore With nought that followed, or that went before. And I must copy this exactly, line for line, Mind punctuations, and with care define Even what seemed corrections ; for if aught Were changed therein, that chance were surely fraught With ruin to its meaning, and the whole Made lettered carcase — words bereft of soul. All day I pondered, but still sought in vain The key by which I might admission gain To this dark treasure-bouse of ancient seer. And grasp his gems securely hoaided here. Then, in despsiir, I tried with fevered hand To trace the lines I could not understand, And be a mere automaton, that writ Just as a force mechanic guided it. This could not be. Thoughts flashed across my brain How I should find the meaning ; and again 10 KTNWITH. My pen lay idle, as the scroll once more I read, to find thought baffled as before. And so at evening when the abbot came My finished labour of the day to claim. He found a bare beginning, and my head Laid throbbing on the scroll. He gently said — " God's peace be with thee, son; it now were best To leave thy labour for awhile, and rest Within thy cell. To-morrow we will change The circle of thy duties, and arrange That for. a season thou from these shall part. Which seem to bring such heaviness of heart ; And in the gladsome sunshine thou shalt tend The festive flowers, whose living beauties blend With holy symbols to enhance the pride Of our high altar." Wildly I replied — " Not so, my father, I but live to learn ; And Time were Life's oblivion, should I turn From Wisdom's garden to a plot of earth. E'en though its flowers in Paradise had birth. KTNWITH. ] 1 Leave still the scroU — my weakness, heed it not — I wiU write, father, though I read it not." He gave no answer for a little while, But watched me thoughtfully, and then a smUe, HaK kind and half triumphant, lit his face. He gave his blessing — turned to leave the place ; But, pausing at the doorway, slowly said — "And wouldst thou read that scroll? " A glad heart made My lips expressive of assent ; and he, Pausing again, looked steadfastly at me, As though to read my soul, and then replied — " Old Benedict can teach thee ; none beside. Go to his cell to-morrow with thy task ; TeU him I sent, and what thou needest ask." That night my father came to me in sleep. Wrapt iu those robes which souls departed keep Hid from our waking eyes. His face was pale, Just as I saw it last, ere shrouding veil 12 KTNWITH. Enfolded it for ever. Tet a change Now had past o'er it wonderfully strange; And though I knew instinctively 'twas he, In doubt I questioned what this form might be. So like, yet so unlike what mem'ry told Had been the fashion of my sire of old. "Where was the hearty laugh, the sturdy stride, That told of merry heart and manly pride ? AU now was hushed in settled peaceful cahn, That seemed to breathe 'jumunity from harm. His eyes were closed, yet he appeared to see ; His lips were voiceless, but he spoke to me. Stni, though in sleep, my greedy ears drank all ; My waking senses nothing could recal. Save a dun sense of peace, and some behest, That Grod must rule aU scientific quest. At two we rose for vigils ; took our way To the dim chapel, and knelt down to pray KIN WITH. 13 As we were wont. Our psalms we chaunted o'er ; Sat down to meditate, and then once more Performed our matin service, while the sun Yet whispered to the hills of day begun For them alone. Then I, with troubled mind, Pull of my last night's vision, went to find The cell of aged Benedict, who bore Such mixt repute among us, and implore The sunlight of his learning, to reveal All my dark scroll was fashioned to conceal. None, save the abbot, e'er had seen the face Of this old monk ; none knew what land or race He sprang from. When abroad he strayed, His close-drawn cowl would every feature shade From keenest scrutiny, except the eye, That flashed in that dark vault, and could defy The boldest glance that questioned curiously. AU felt vague tremors as he past them by ; And none would cross his shadow wittingly. 14 KTNWITH. But turned aside to seek some other way, Where no crooked phantom on the green sward lay. Few knew his voice. He never silence broke Could he maintain it ; but 'twas said he spoke With a strange accent, so the brothers thought Theirs not the language that his mother taught, And, doubting, asked why thus he came to dwell, A friendless stranger, in a foreign cell. I reached his door, and, in the abbot's name. Gained the admission I half feared to claim ; Not to such place as fancy might expect — A storied chamber, fitted to reflect The strangeness of its owner — but a cell Just like all others. There was nought to tell I was not in mine own, though still I felt Within those walls a subtle spirit dwelt. And as I gazed upon that shrouded man. And heard those hollow accents, which began KYirWITH. 15 To question of my coming, while his eye Made deeper query, and forestalled reply, He seemed some risen tenant of the tomb, Who read my secrets, and foresaw my doom. What wonder, then, if tremblingly I came, Held out the scroll, and spoke the abbot's name With falt'ring tongue, then paused in 'wildered mood, Half sure, half hoping that he understood. And what relief J, felt, when, slow and grave, -His words expression to my feelings gave. " God's peace be with you, brother, rest content, Ton seek instruction, and the abbot sent. But wherefore wouldst thou learn ? I teach not those Whose hearts the walls of selfishness enclose ; Who would but trade in science, and who hold Truth but a means, whose fitting end is gold." Then from the fulness of my heart I spake : " I seek for wisdom but for wisdom's sake ; 16 KYNTVITH. Would learn whate'er is lawful, and forego All other good, contented I may know." I ceased and waited, but no answer made The aged man ; he meditative prayed As if he were alone, or had forgot I stood before him — perhaps he heeded not. And soon the fingers that were wont to clasp His ample cowl around him, ceased their grasp ; And as it opened I beheld a face Graved with such lines as care and sorrow trace. Slowly and painfully, from year to year. Till the young visage is grown old and sere ; And only fragments of expression seen, Where life, matured and perfect, else had been. But 'midst the ruin thought could still detect Eich food for woman's love, or man's respect — A patienl^ gentle, earnest, striving soul, A weary runner nearing to the goal. KTNWITH. 17 At last h6 moved, and seemed to wake again From vacant trance, with half bewildered brain ; Again Ms eye with fever'd lustre burned, And the first purpose of his will returned. He took the scroll, then gently drew me near. And bade me follow him with eye and ear As he read slowly from it, and explained How its hid meaning might be ascertained. And deathless spirit of departed sage Beget Truth's children in a distant age. E'en as old wine has virtue to impart Renewed pulsation to the failiug heart, Those cordial words old Benedict inspired, And his duU veins with youthful ardour fired. All care, all sorrow vanished from his face. And a strange rapture quivered iu their place. Which I beheld with reverential awe, Like one who visage of an angel saw. c 18 KTNWITH. Again he lived in sunny eastern clime, Friends were around him, life was in its prime, And gladsome hope, Ms promise-breathing guide, Danced on before, or gamboled at his side ; And he could walk in wisdom's pleasant ways Free as the air, that over ocean strays Pure and untainted, though all flesh decays. So we past hours, obhvious of time, Till, summoned by the bell's unwelcome chime, We sought the hall, to take our noon-tide meal, Not too luxurious for the body's weal. Nor yet too Taried, for our rigid vow Would but two kinds of herban food allow ; And these were doled with somewhat niggard hand, Just as the abbot's judgment should command ; And while we ate our porridge, one would drone Some monkish legend in unvaried tone. Less like a human voice than that we hear Through nature's hush, when tempest gathers near. KTITVVITH. 19 AU else sat silently, as men of stone, While swells around that deep portentous moan — "Come back again to-morrow if you will," Said brother Benedict, " and we can still Read in the scroll together, or discourse On nature's secrets, and the vital force Pervading nature"; then a glad consent I freely gave, and left him well content And hopeful for the morrow, and my mind Filled with strange musings, floating undefined Like fiery nebulae, yet uncombined, That waited but a touch, a word, to burn Each a light-giving sun, whose rays would turn Night into day, when I might feel and learn Something of sacred harmony, and find Creation echo Omnipresent mind. Thus, then, I found a wise and gentle friend. And it was soon a custom I should spend 20 KYNWITH. Part of each day beside him. I became His willing pupil, and men linked my name With his in slander, and would shun me too, As one who more than fitting wisdom knew. And we two bore it, and were more endeared Each to the other, for their words appeared As passing breath of evil-tainted wind That left no sense of injury behind ; But quickly whistled o'er us, to be lost In the wide realms of air, and never cost A moment's anxious thought, or could inspire More than a pang of transitory ire. Slowly at first his confidence he gave, Like one who, by discretion, wished to save His trust from a betrayal, and to prove The object worthy, ere he ventured love. But when he once had tried and found me true, Every restriction he at once withdrew ; KYXWITH. 21 And shewed in him the very man was seen With no snspicions TeU of earth between. But soul to sonl its kindred might confras. As though it lired not in a camid dress. One day I told him of the strange report Of magic art the brothers said was taoght By our arch enemy, and snrely fraught "With ruin to the soul ; he gently smQed, Then, like a father humouring his child, SUd back an oaken panel and revealed A secret passage caiefuHy concealed From vulgar gaze. He bade me nothing doubt, But follow where he led me. We went out, And he reclosed the panel as before. And then past oiiward to a second door. Just like the former ; this aside he slid, Aad shewed a chamber studiously hid From outward observation, and secure From all whom curious fancy might allure. 22 KTNWITH, Here, then, the patient son of science strove Recorded truth to analyse and prove, And wring from nature, by the chemist's spell, Those potent secrets that within her dwell. Still finding in each myst'ry he unrolled, A thousand others yet remained untold ; And, hy comparison, he must confess Learning but made his wisdom seem the less. Awhile he let me wonder at the place, And wander round and round it, to efface The sense of novelty, and learn to draw My own reflections from the things I saw ; He then explained experiments he made, And, thankful, took my unpretending aid In some small matters needing little skill — A flask to bring, or crucible to fiU With matter that he gave me, else I sought Some book he needed to enrich his thought. KTNWITH. 23 By wedding it to others that were bred In minds of men long numbered with the dead — Thoughts that once born, liYe on, forbid to die, Tor Time, that bare them, wed Eternity. Soon on the floor we heard a stealthy tread, And rose to greet, with reverential head,- My lord, the abbot, who had come to learn If Benedict had hopes ot quick return For his expenditure, and he was shewn The varied labours that the day had known — Eetorts and crucibles, and jars and flasks, "Which all gave evidence of learned tasks At least attempted, if not realized, And heard a dissertation, which comprised A wondrous string of names, and Latin phrase, With words voluminous, that might amaze A man more learned than the father priest, Who heard, and seemed to understand at least ; 2f4 KTNWITH. Then turned to question me, and kindly made Some commendations of obedience paid So readily, smiled, blessed us, said adieu, Smothered his disappointment, and withdrew. Throughout this interview I could detect A somethmg foreign to profound respect In Benedict's deportment, though his look And words of studied deference partook ; And sundry doubtiags in my mind began — Was covert labour worthy of the man ? If worthy, was it lawful, or was he Purloining fruit from God-forbidden tree 1 I spoke to Benedict, who laid aside The book he studied, mused, and then replied : " We walk not here in heaven's eternal noon. But on earth's twilight ; faith, our mental moon. May still exist, but lost to sight it lies. Unless truth's sun the needful Ught supplies. KTNWITH. 25. 'Tis superstition, and not faith that flies Where error's children foster sightless eyes, And treasures up uncleanness, that had birth In a dark people and benighted earth ; And clutching blindly, flaunts the very mask, That hides the devU's image and his task — His toil of darkness, teaching men to hate That good which angels love to imitate. Oh ! when wiH men break superstition's rod. And learn pure science can but lead to God, Fining the soul with holy, childlike zeal, To learn whate'er the Father would reveal ; And seek that faith He only can supply — The living truth, who cannot, would not lie. Thus, when we read on nature's stxjny page, The faithful records of some by-gone age, It seems that God's own finger there we trace, Engraving thus the story of each race, 26 KTNWITH. His Word had gifted with its transient powers, To lire, or more, upon this world of ours ; Commanding each His wisdom to declare — Then dying, leave itself depicted there. If it be wrong to read, or He would hide, Why has His hand the volume opened wide, When He might well have left earth's crust unrent, And all this knowledge in her bowels pent. Shall we, then, cease to spell, because the words Grow into sentences that shock the herds Of self-laudators, far too wise to learn Another alphabet, and therefore spurn The lispings of God's children, though they stand Close by His side and kiss the father-hand That loving, tenderly, oft pointeth out The true solution of an earnest doubt ; Then bids them go, this gospel wide proclaim. And trust to Him as guardian of their fame? KYNWITH. 27 As for the abbot, 'tis Ms greed supplies Means for experiment — my hand applies Those means to gain his end. I, too, would learn How to command the elements, and turn Gross things to pure. I do not seek for gold As pleasure's minister, but would be told What it consists of, and desire to find The chemic law by which it is combined. The abbot gives the means; I bring my skill And best endeavour, to obtain his will. If he but gain his object, I incline To think such man will never covet mine. I may possess the knowledge ; he would hold To wealth material, typified in gold ; So, with two objects, both our wishes tend, In strong convergence, to a common end. He holds my aim half worthy of contempt. And I from feeling am not quite exempt. 28 KJINWITH. Here rang the vesper bell, and we were faia To swell the crowd of worshippers again. In stated place, and posture to be found, With tutor'd lips to utter given sound, That feigns profound devotion, while it tella No thought perchance that in the bosom dwells; This service ended, at the dean's behest, We woo'd soft slumber througi the hours of rest. Our good confessor was a man of faith In old traditions, " So the Scripture saith," AH questions answered, and he never vex'd His peace by varied readings of a text. But simply took the one he nearest found, Lov'd it verbatim, and believed it sound. If any would look further, surely he First shut his eyes, then said " I cannot see ; " For what was learning? why, God's Spirit taught By inspiration. Learning, then, was nought KHiTWlTH. 29 But vain presumption. Thanks t» Mother Church, All things were settled, so that further search Implied but doubt that God had really meant Always to guide the teachers that he sent,. For if His Holy Spirit truly dwelt Still with the Church, His impulse, known and felt. Must be infallibly the one sure guide, And her's the faith that could not be denied. Truth,, then, was clearly just what he believed, And men who differed were but men deceived. Such was the man our worthy abbot made The keeper of our consciences, and laid Strict cha,rge upon us he should be obeyed Implicitly in discipline, and we Should do his penance with fidelity. All, except Benedict, whose feeble frame, And age, gave right immunity to claim ; So in his case, 'twere fitting to allow A relaxation of too stringent vow. 80 KTNWITF. And let a man whom death must soon release, Possess the remnant of his days in peace. Good brother Stephen promised to obey, And did, though conscience tugged another way; And inclination (which was perhaps the same) Oft prompted stringent measures to reclaim This special doubter, who, in carnal pride. Questioned the purity of Christ's own bride — Believing wisdom worthy of his search, Although unknown or sanctioned by the Church. So Stephen, sore perplex'd and much dismayed, All saints in season for their succour prayed, And ever strove the deadly strife to still 'Twixt conscience, interest, and the abbot's will. The day came round when I must needs impart AU sinful secrets hidden in my heart To father Stephen, but I nothing said Of philosophic quest — ^that sin I laid KYNWITH. 31 Upon the abbot, counting Ms command My absolution, fitting me to stand Pure 'mid tlie purest, with no sense of shame Stinging my soul, or coupled with my name. Yet, when I thought my tale of evils done, I found my list of failings scarce begun; For Pater Stephen, like a father true, Had watched me narrowly, and thought he knew I was a subtle hypocrite, who bore Another self within the form I wore For outward observation, and had sold That self to Satan's deputy, the wicked, old Frere Benedict, and therefore it was right I should do penance for him, and requite His troubled conscience by my troubled hours Of service penetential : renovating showers Of knotty scourgiogs, paternosters, fasts. And strict denial of whatever casts A warmth or brightness on ihe life of man, Was the good father's dream-developed plan 32 KTNWITH. For my salvation ; and with sore dismay I heard that many hours of every day Must so be occupied, if I would gain His benediction, or a hope retain Of peace or joy to- picture heaven again. Here tvas a strange dilemma ! I had sworn Obedience to the abbot, and had borne That vow unblamably, but now it seemed Obedience was delinquency, and teemed With sins unnumbered, potent to preveat My having absolution, till I went Through a long course of penance, that should purge This leprosy, which brought me to the verge Of soul-damnation, and which vexed the eyes Of father Stephen, who could not devise A better mode of cleansing me from sin Than piercing through flesh's tabernacle th'n, To reach the tenant that sojourned within. KTNWITH. 33 So once again I took my ropen belt, Bared my poor back, and on the pavement knelt Before my crucifix, then strove again To be a very saint, and find in pain A mental exaltation ; but, alack ! Disuse had quite unnerved me, while my back Seemed wondrous -tender, and that knotty thing Tortured like essence of a scorpion sting, That must disrupture to existence bring. If I persisted ; still to hold my hand Was twofold disobedience ; the command Our abbot gave was of the strictest sort ; So shirking penance was to set at nought His wiU, and Stephen's, and give up to scorn All the good name that I had ever borne. So with a sigh again I clutched the rope, Smiling grim smiles, illummed by a hope That Stephen had his penance, and was then Just in that state which most induces men 34 KTNWITH. To sympathise with others whom they know Needs must confess a fellowship in woe. Just at that moment who should ope the door But this same Stephen, whose dark yisage wore A strange expression, in which discontent Was mingled largely with a look he meant To pass for loring-kindness, and convey A cheering sense of anger past away. "God's peace be with thee, son, the abbot sends Kemittance of thy penance, and commends Thy prompt obedience; we are well content, And now absolve thee ; let the hour be spent In prayer and thankfulness. Thou mayest renew Thy labours on the morrow. Son, adieu." Oh how I blessed the abbot as I rose From those cold stones, permitted to repose From service penitential I then to heaven Flew words of gratitude for succour given KTNWTTH. 35 When sore I needed it. And Stephen, too, I thought of kindly, though full well I knew I might ha^e bared each bone beneath my skin. And ne'er a scrap of willing favour win ; For he believed all mercy was misplaced Toward a vile sinner, who had not effaced The world he lived in, but whose carnal heart Still throbbed impatient to take active part In earth's great business ; longed to hold its own 'Midst living men and women, and be known As full of warm affections, that would cling Closely around some love-reflecting thing ; There find an earthly paradise, and stay Contented in it, while the heavenly way Stretched on and upwards through a land of tears Rugged and dark, beset with phantom fears That mock the angel who would give us peace Even on earth, and lovingly release Our lives from bondage ; would rebuke the power That forged our fetters in an evU hour. 36 KYKWITH. To bind them on young Reason's slumb'ring frame, Who dreamed of safety, e'en when ruin came. Then weeks passed in calm and peaceful way Of life uuTaried, so that any day Might pass for any other ; only when Church fasts or feasts came round, our duty then Would break in on this quiet, and demand Some special tax of labour at our hand ; This we paid willingly, and then resumed The old routine, in which we seemed foredoomed To wear out life. But every day had now Its fitting record, stamping on my brow As seal of progress, something I had learned By patient application, that had earned Me greater mental stature, arid which stiU Lengthened the lines of thought, to make my wUl Appear more potent ; I was like a son To dear old Benedict, and truly won KYNWITH. 37 A father's loye from him ; so each had gained What each most needed, and we scarce retained The mem'ry of past loneliness, but dwelt Contented in the present, which we felt Was full of strong endeayour, and could blend Hope with our life, that pointed to an end Befitting man, and worthy of the soul That God had fashioned, fitly to control All grosser nature ; heights progressive gain In Reason's empire, until mind should reign Lord of each atom, and, like vital thrill Pervading matter, throb man's living will. Almighty breath! whose mystic power at first Gave soul to man, And still pervaded though the ground was curst, When soul presumed to slake her nature's tliirst Where truth began. 38 KTNWITH. Does knowledge still grow on forbidden tree To tempt our fall ? Are varied hopes and powers bestowed on me By one who dared not leave his creature free To use them all '? The breatt almighty whispers in mine ear, Thy will is free. Deny God's Spirit, and he comes not near ; But canst thou hope another friend so dear, So wise as he ? K T N W I T H. CANTO II. The old boar paid his forfeit of the life He staked to win a kingdom ; for the strife Had gone against him, and his Angle foe Scorned woman-minded pity ; Lodbrog's woe Plumed Ella's pride. He knew the wild sea-king Built mighty barks, and crossed the seas to wring Allegiance from him ; but the waves ran high. And, with their roaring, drowned his children's cry, That Odin might not hear it ; so the strand Was strewed with Lodbrog's hopes, while all the land 40 KYNwrrii. Was full of foemen ; so the shipwrecked tew Lived but to perish surely, and they knew Death hungered to devour them. But dismay Quenched not their valour — fear was far away — When they rushed on to battle, seeking there Glad entrance to the great Walhalla, where New days should bring new conflicts, and tlie joy Of death in battle, while each night's employ Should be high festival ; skulls, filled with mead Yielded by Heidrun, should reward each deed Of noble daring. So they fought and died — All except Lodbrog ; Valkyrjor denied His speedy glory. He was smitten down With life almost extinguished, and the crown. Struck from his helm, a shivered ruin lay, Like the great Viking ; mixed with common claj', And trampled on by Theow, whose craven eye Late quailed to see it. Ella, passing by. Sighted the bauble, and espied the man Who late upheld it, lying powerless, wan, 41 But liying still, and with a cruel care, Bade leeches tend him ; heedf uUy repair The breaches in life's citadel — restore The power ot pain to wring his foe once more — Nursed till the sense was keenest grown, and then Exposed him naked, in a serpent's den, That they might sting him. 'Twas a fiendish deed ; And fiends stood by to watch their foeman bleed In helpless torture, hoping he would fail To bear it bravely. But could sea-king quail Before assault of worms ? No; all was borne Without once shrinking, and the smile of scorn Still shone to mock them, as, with failing breath. He sang his death-song till the hour of death ! " All-father, who the Viking gave His storm-rocked' castle on the wave For heritage and home ; 42 KTNWITH. Who loT'st the true, the free, the brave, But scorn'st the coward and the slave) To thee I come. " Where man could fight, the Viking hath — In blood, that flowed along my path, I wrote my name ; And woman's shriek, and infant's cry Eang from the towns that lit the sky Where'er I came. " Aslauga wove the robes I wore When late I sailed from Danish shore Through stormy night. Those garments clothe my limbs no more, Dyed brightly with the crimson gore Let out in fight. " The death worms fold me round instead ; Tet, happy as on bridal bed, I wait thy call. KYNWITH. 43 My boar- cubs rage in deadly hate ; New slaughter will avenge my fate In Angle hall. " Slares 1 do I dread the serpent's sting ? Dread ye the raven's sable wing — He takes his flight ! Three daughters of the king ye doom ! Three sisters wove his fated plume By one noon's light I " The barks are launched, their sails are spread ! The black-bird flutters over head, Where north seas foam ! My boar-cubs seek their vengeance here ! Your death-shriek's music fills mine ear ! They come ! they Come ! " Death to the Angles ! was the Norseman's cry- Death, to the Angles ! who bade Lodbrog die 44 KTNWITH. In shameful dungeon, when his hope was found 'Mid hero brothers on the battle ground ! With entrance to Walhalla, that great goal, Ambition flashes on the warrior soul. Death to the Angle ! and the east wind blew Shrill at their bidding ; so away they flew Across the hazy ocean — eight Vikings And twenty Jarls, who watched the fated wings That waved o'er Ubbo, straining at the mast To draw him onwards ; while the screaming blast Sang death-songs in the cordage, and the sails Courted a swift destruction from the gales That well-nigh rent them. On the Norseman sped, Unheeding whither, so the raven led ; He rode the billow like a well-known steed. Broken in childhood, who but gave the meed Due to his manhood, and obedient bore In safety onward towards the foeman's shore. KTNWITII. 45 Death to the Angle ! and the Angle saw Bright Odin's smile the raven's shadow draw On white foam round him, as the hardy band Sprang from their barks triumphant to the land — They came to conquer — saw them toss his child Upon their spear-points — heard the clamour wild Of outraged womanhood — beheld the flame Eat up his dwelling, and yet lived to claim That servile portion scornful valour gave, When blighted manhood shrivelled to the slave. Death to the Angle ! and the Angle found No refuge from destruction, for the ground Seemed big with Norsemen, and brought forth her brood In every corner, till the land was strewed With utter ruin ; till no town remained In all the country, and each sod was stained With steaming crimson. Then fierce Tlbbo led Bis warriors northward on their mission dread ; 46 KTNWITH. Pausing at Whitby — trod out Hilda's light That gladdened Deira — slew or put to flight The inmates of her abbey, where, of yore, Old Caedmon, Britain's father-poet, wore The garb monastic, and harmonious sang How God's great Toice through space chaotic rang. And called the worlds to order ; then again Past TJbbo, onward, bidding ruin reign O'er smiling va,lleys, till on Ella's town He burst Uke tempest ; threw the rampart down, And rushed in over ; slaying, till the Ouse Blush'd shameful scarlet, as it bore the news To Deira's monarch, who at last led forth His Thanes, to curb the children of the North. Great TJbbo's host beheld the northern Tyne Ketumed to Ebor, and remained supine Along the banks of Ouse, like monster vast, That lay and gorged incessantly, and cast KYNWITH. 47 Strong, lengthy arms about it, which anon Would seize upon fresh vietims, draw them on To sure destruction, griping harder still When any struggled to -resist their will, Or stroYe to flee it. So all hope was crushed By the strong hand of power ; despair was hushed When it became too clam'rous, for its tone Was quickly stifled tiU it died — a groan. And nothing lived beneath stern Ubbo's sway, But what grim Terror tutored to obey. The winter months had passed ; and now 'twas spring, When feathered lovers flit on eager wing To woo affection, and their voices lent New echoes to the forest, as they blent In nature's choral ; telling of the peace That still dwelt in them, though its life might cease In creatures that had reason. Some who heard Would fain have pent them, hoping free-born bird 48 KTNWITH. Would sing in bondage ; others placid lay With half shut eyes, to listen time ayfaj Until the hour of wassail, when all met To tell old tales that pleased the heroes yet Who lived to tell them, and which others bore, Rather than drink in silence, or restore Sweet sleep the hours of darkness, that of yore Were hers alone, and she would claim once more. One sunny afternoon, in careless ease. The Norsemen strolled, or lay beneath the trees That grew along the river — talked or planned Of future enterprise, and said the land Was nigh exhausted round them, while their stay Was growing very weary, and delay Might give the Angles courage. " Would it could," A warrior answered ; " I am sick of blood Drawn from a flying crowd ; I long again To meet a foemau, and to feel the strain KTNWITH. 49 Of his endeavour reaching toward my life In the full fervour of a manly strife." Scarce had he spoken, when a cry arose Of " Christ and Ella ! " and their slighted foes Swept down upon the Norsemen, bearing back All opposition ; leaving but a track Of bloody corpses, as their firm array Moved on unbroken, sweeping life away Like a huge avalanche that would not stay For human effort ; and, with wUd dismay, The Norsemen saw the raven, that it lay Drooping and motionless, and seemed to shrink From the red tide it ever loved to drink. And so the Norsemen yielded to the strength That union gave their foemen, till at length They fled, in wild disorder, to the town — Eushed to the gates, and trod each other down 50 KTNWITH. Tn haste to enter, while the hostile blade Still followed after, and wild havoc inade In its great thirst for vengeance — flashed along, Until both people formed one maddened throng Of mangled slayers, who forgot all care Of their own safety, so death did not spare The hated foeman. Then the tide was turned. And, to his cost, the heedless Angle learned He had not conquered. When the fight began. Each Norseman met a host ; now man to man The warriors fought their foes — the Une was broke That drove them backwards, and each manly stroke Could do its errand, so they turned again, Smote down the eager slayer 'mid the slain That lay around him ; then the raven spread His wings out widely as great Ubbo led The Danes to conquer, with a mighty shout That scared the wavering Christians ; and the route Became most hopeless as that fearful cry "Death to the Angles ! " rose and sounded high KTNWITH. 5 1 O'er " Christ and Ella! " when th& scabbard's sting Pierced to some heart, or battle-axe would ring The death-note on a helmet ; so they fled, Leaving behind the dying and the dead To Pagan mercy. Ella, too, was ta'en By Lodbrog's son, as he essayed; in vain, To stem the torrent, and, by valour's mightj Beat back his foemen and restore the fight. Death to the Angle! and the Angle died. For there was none to hinder. Osbert tried, With brave true heart, to help them ; but a spear Pierced through the woven mail as he fought near His kiQgly brother, hoping he might save That brother from the heathen, though the grave Should be his refuge ; for too well he knew That Ubbo's captive would have cause to rue The chance, that spared him. But they smote him down As though he were the meanest, and renown 52 KYNWITH. Told not his glory ; yet the Norseman's heel Pressed, in vain pride, on neck that could not feel Its touch degrading ; so he had no shame Of knowing foemen trampled on his fame. Death to the Angles ! and till stayed by night, The victor claimed the victor's butcher right Upon the vanquished — smiting youth and age In the blind fury of a frantic rage, That swelled unshackled. All along the way, For many miles, a royal banquet lay. That wolves might feed on without let or stint, TiU paws and muzzle gained the crimson tint That stained their jackals, who half longed to share With those they furnished thus, provision rare. Through the long night unending wassail reigned Among the Norsemen, and skull-branches dramed But to be fiUed agam ; and yet again, When they were emptied, whUe the old Scald's strain KTNWITH. 53 Eose 'mid the tumult, as he sang once more His song of Odin and the days of yore — Two hostile brother nations prayed Thus to Odin— " Give thy blessing ; send thine aid, Mighty Odin ! " And all-father thus replied : " He by whom my face is spied First on the morrow, He shall have the aid from me, His shall be the victory. And from him the foe shall flee In shame and sorrow." Frigga on the wondrous throne Sat with Odin, Seeing all things, seen and known By great Odin. 54 KYNWITH. And wise Gambra to her came, For her son a boon to claim, If dear she deem her. Then Frigga gaTO her counsel wise, How Ajo might win Odin's eyes, When they eastward Ut the skies Through brain of Ymir. Soon the morrow's hour of waking Came to Odin ; And, his Frigga's couch forsaking, Up rose Odin, Looked, and saw a strange array ; Cried aloud : " And who are they, Those wondrous long-beards ? " Then Frigga cried, " With that new name, Their naming-gift, my daughters claim ; And thy true wife demands the same — Victory for long-beards.'' Kynwith. 55 'Twas the Wiuile wires appeared Thus to Odin, Each veiled in her husband's beard, Hid from Odin ; And a smile of sunshine broke Prom all-father as he spoke The words they needed. So Ayo conquered in the fight, And still live on in glory bright The long-beards, speaking words of might, By all men heeded. Thus sang the Scald ; and, scarcely had he ceased, When joy's wild clamour, from his spell released, Rose yet more loudly, and the ale went round With quicker pulses, strewing on the ground Unseasoned topers. Then they bade him sing A martial story of the great sea-king — Their Ubbo's father ; so the gifted man Drank from the proffered horn, and thus began : — 56 KTNWITH. " The Norseman's home is on the, wave ; There he is free, And reaps the harvest of the brave With pinions that, unchallenged, wave On every sea. " Then why should Ragnar Lodbrog pine While others roam, And birthright of his race resign, E'en Thora's golden locks to twine In woman's home ? " Away the thought ! To each and all His spear goes round ; The jarls are gathered at his call ; He breaks away from spindle thrall And measured ground. " No smoky roof is shading now The Viking's home ; KTNWITH. 67 He drinks upon no hearth I trow, As blithely flashes from his prow The white sea foam. " The north wind breathes upon his sail Its song of speed ; The storm-cloud sheds its treasured hail, As south he flies before the gale To daring deed. " Is it a cloud-line breaks the ring Which bounds the sight ? Or towering cliffs, that upward spring To stay the waves, and backward fling Their stormy might ? " Then all to father Odin pray, ' Let this be land ; ' And Odin rose to guide their way, As on they dash to seize their prey With eager hand. 58 KTNWITH. " Fair were the maiden charms that grew In Nenstria's bowers ; And heroes claimed the hero's due — Past hours of rapture to renew; They plucked the flowers. "The gushing grape of Nenstria's hills Sheds rosy wine ; Its potent stream each flagon fills ; And erery manly bosom thrills With life divine. ■' Gold, silrer, gems, that none can tell, Rich Keustria yields; And orchards wave, and corn-lands swell ; And flocks and herds unnumbered dwell In Neustria's fields. " All these great Lodbrog's valor gave To northern hands ; KTTNWITH, 59 For none denied his warriors brave Whate'er the moment?s widh might crare In conquered lands. " Then all the banks of winding Seine Their power confest, Until the rayal town they gain — The city where great Charlemagne Had ruled the wes,t. " One day a hundred victims died By Lodbrog's will; And priests, who Odin's power denied, Were, like their dead god, crucified On many a hill. "And what bright smiles repaid their toil. When home they came With barks deep laden with their spoil. And forms whereon the warlike broil Had graven famse. 60 KTNWITH. " Why comes no more brave Lodbrog's spear His jarls to call ? Why sits our TJbbo lonely here ? Why can his sire no more appear In wassail hall? " Why do his chiefs, who died in fight, Seek him in vain, When through Walhalla's festive night The triunpet calls dead men of might To live again ? " 'Twas EUa tore his crown away — 'Twas Ella slew. Can hero's justice brook delay ? Else, jarls ! your Viking's wrongs repay With vengeance due ! " Like the wild bursting of a long pent tide The northern warriors raged on every side KYNWITH. 61 With shouts of vengeance, each, with mighty hand, Shaking on high his axe, or spear, or brand With bloody meaning. 'Twas a fearful scene — Death's thousand reapers pressing on to glean Their scanty haryest, a poor feeble life Mischance had left unsevered, in the strife That day had witnessed. One alone sat still In moody silence, with reTolving will That could not fix its purpose ; but at last Eose TJbbo, too, and cried, like trumpet's blast, " Bring in the prjest-washed dog ; " and Ella came — A man who, yesterday, could boast a name Proud as the proudest, but who now could claim Not even mercy. Only now remained The mocking robes, which, battle-torn and stained, StOI clung about him, like the tattered sail Of some lost bark, which late the prosperous gale Inflated bravely, but which now was shrunk To a poor rag, which, though the ship was sank, 62 KYKWITH. Still ffuttered feebly ; but a. babe might rend, If fancy bade himj and make sportive end Of what was majesty, but now was shame, And only fit for lazar-house of fame. So Ella stood before the ruthless man Whose sire he slaughtered, and who paused to plan A fitting vengeance ; painting in his mind All forms of torture, that his greed might find Which was the keenest. When, at last, he spoke, 'Twas like a demon that from bondage broke To do hell's bidding. " Bind him on that bench With your strong war-belts, that he may not wrench A hair to freedom." That was quickly done ; And, powerless, Ella gazed on Lodbrog's son With stolid firmness as he bared the knife That late had fed him, and whose edge was rife With serried anguish. Soon it slid between The severed ribS) and Ella's doom was seen KTNWITH. 63 And hailed with acclamation ; many took The salt which strewed the tables — threw or shook The pungent powder o'er each gaping, wound That Ubbo gave him — ^pausing, when he swoonedi Till nature rallied, then pursued again Their cruel joy and miijistry of pain With zeal untiring ; shouting as they spread The ribs wide open, forming what they said Were eagle's pinions ; last they stopped his breath By drawing forth his lungs — a piecemeal death Of many hours ; filled with a raging thirst. They mocked with his own life-blood,, while they curst 1 he man who tortured Lodbrog ; but he died In stubborn silence, and their earS' denied A groan of anguish, for his teeth set fast, Ground one another steadfast to the last. And so the Angle sway in Deira past,, And was no longer.. Eoreign chains^were cast 64 KYNWITH. Around their freedom ; and the hand of power, Which forged their fetters, strengthened every hour, And grew more weighty, till, to disobey, Meant present death, for law was swept away Which guaranteed existence. Thane and Ceorl Went down together, drawn withia the whirl Of that dread maelstrom, which was now supreme 'Mid desolation, and whose depths must teem With unknowu horrors ; wid'ning still it spread O'er the poor land whence hope and peace were fled. As swallows flee from winter ; who forsake The pleasant homes it had been joy to make For callow nestlings in the happy day When all were kings, consenting to obey The power they wielded, and who claimed the rule O'er those that ruled them, but that each might school The heart's self-seeking by the wishes born From joint affection ; then the chains were worn, Kot as a mark of serfdom, but as sign That Love had gained his empire, to resign KTlfWITH. 65 No part to man's low nature which he took From carnal parentage, that sometime shook The very throne of reason, as it strove To circle passion with the crown of love. But now all love was vanished — ties were rent, Which had appeared the strongest, and were meant To last out life ; for none could dare to claim The good God gave him, and a husband's name Was but a sound to laugh at, or secured A bloody sequel to the wrong endured Prom him who did.it. Then a famine spread O'er the uncultured land, that once had fed A tenfold people ; for the Norsemen cared But little for the morrow, so they fared To-day like princes, pampered with the best, Who gorged their fill, and trampled on the rest. Then there was famine of God's holy word ; The shrines were ruined, and no voice was heard F 66 KTN~WTTH. In holy supplication ; for the priest Med from the^heathen, and religion ceased To stand erect in Deira. Prayers to men Alone were uttered, rising now and then Like straws for Hope to clutch at, as he sank Down the dark gulf that ever sucked and drank All that remained of life, and gave no heed To breath so wasted. Not one lawless deed Was unaccomplished ; not one tear the less Was shed by hapless Angle ; but distress Went on increasing, and no man was saved. But him the Norseman needed or enslaved. So Ubbo gave the country to his Danes, Who seized the farms and townships of the Thanes Eor homes to dwell in ; while the Angle tilled The land which was his own, and sadly filled His barns for others, bending pride to take' The husks they gave him ; toiling for the sake 67 Of mere existence ; being really less Than any beast permitted to possess Itself in freedom. Hope and manhood gone It seem'd for erer, still he lingered on, The tool of others, that aside was cast. When toil wore out his usefulness at last. But Ubbo, ever restless, could not stay Long in one country, and must needs away Again to conquer ; so he led his band Southward to win the eastern Angle land. And slay the Angles. Then Earl Algar brought The youth of HoUand, and with others, fought On day of Saint Maurice, until they slew Three Danish kings, but then incautious grew. And so were conquered; so the earl was slain. And Ubbo passed triumphant on again. To slaughter monks on altar fresh defiled With all aboininations — slay the child 68 KTNWITH. Before its ravished mother, that her cries Might rise more shrilly, as its fading eyes Looked vainly for her rescue, and reproached Her loving-kindness, that no more approached With needed succoni ; swearing purged oath. E'en on his golden bracelets, that were both Graven with Kunic mysteries and charms, To shield the wearer from impending harms, Amid the storms of battle, and were e'er Deemed the most sacred things whereon to swear. Thus months passed on, unto he weary grew Of endless riot, and again withdrew To live in Ebor. But that life was tame ; So, bye-and-bye, a growing longing came For novel enterprize, and thought arose Of his old friend that bore Mm where he chose, And never wearied ; so the spear went round To summon jarls, and war-ships were unbound KTNWITH^ ' 69 From their dull moorings ; then he sailed once more On hazy ocean, gladdened by the roar Of mighty billows, while he saw, with pride, His gallant bark their haughty ci'ests divide As he would cleave a hehnet^ while the spray, Like snow new fallen, on her pathway lay To mark the track of Ubbo. On he sped Before the north-wind, with his full sail spread To brave its fury, and each Norseman dreamed That night of conquest on a land that seemed Full of all pleasures. But the barks went on WhUe they were dreaming, and all land was gone When they awakened ; for the waves alone Were now their world, and they appeared to moan. Hope, whither wouldst thou lead me If I should foUow thee ? From cold despair thy touch has freed me. Is it to work as unseen power shall need me, I must awakened be ? KYNWITH. Hope, I would know thine ending Pefore I follow thee ; To life or death art thou now tending ? Canst thou give joy ? or art pretending That thou hast store for me ? Hope, I am sick and weary ; What wouldest thou with me ? The path thou shew'st is rough and dreary ; Tet must I rise, and, without doubt or query, Through darkness follow thee. KIN WITH. CANTO III. My motlier's health was never of the best : Death wrenched the prop whereon she used to rest, And left her almost helpless. So the world Seemed a past day, with cloudy curtains furled Around its sunset, bringing gioom and night, When she had hoped an hour of softened light, For quiet contemplation ; so she sat. Waiting her summons, longing but for that Which meant reunion, and would sometimes chide The lagging messenger, who seemed to bide 72 KTNWITH. So long upon his journey, and delay Her's to the land so near, yet far away, Which gleamed through mists of mental pain and strife In the dim yista of unended life. One summer's morning at the abbey gate Sat our old porter, patiently to wait TUl some one summoned — ^vesture of the sun Shone round him, like a robe of glory won In life's great battle, tiU its brightness hid Terrestrial meanness, and all doubt forbid Of his beatitude. His tonsure seemed No crown of thorns, but saintly band, that gleamed With heavenly radiance, for each silver hair Flash'd like a ray .of light new planted there In age's honour. Oft his kindly eye Glanced down the road, as though it longed to spy Something that needed sympathy, or aid Which he could render; or his fingers strayed From the dull rosary, and gesture made KTNWITH. Of friendly recognition, as there past Some peasant to his daily toil, who cast A loving glance upon the good old man, He knew his friend when troubled waters ran High in life's river, and the failing bank Could scarce restrain them. Peter never shrank From those who suffered, never loved to pry Into past failings ; 'twas enough to try And mitigate the present, so he won Love from most hearts, and bitterness from none. In the far distance was a horseman seen Spurring on hastily ; now lost between Two hills that shut a valley ; then again, Rising to sight, he sped along the plain That formed the closer summit. Drawing near, The hoofs' shrill clamour smote upon the ear Of silent meditation, and awoke Our latent curiosity, that spoke 74: KTNWITH. Most in the eye, though softly- whispered word At times would breathe conjecture, and be heard Like thought reflected from a land of souls Where rule of silence speech no more controls. Then came a pause before the abbey gate ; Then sound of voices eager in debate, And then old Peter toward the cloisters came, With quiv'ring lips, to falter forth a name I fancied was my own ; and then he took My hand in his, that with emotion shook, And scarce could grasp me. Instantly I knew 'Twas my poor mother, and away I flew To seek the messenger, and hear the worst, Whate'er that should be. Quickly he rehearst His evil tidings ; death was on her now — She wished to see me — ^time might yet allow. If I were speedy, I at once had past Out through the gate, but it was barred, and ' fast. KTNWITH. So I must wait his pleasure, who supreme Enled in the house, aud might my absence deem Unfitting. Near at hand the abbot stood, Lost in deep thought. I burst upon his mood With wild entreaty, and beheld a frown Half gather on his brow ; but, smiting down The demon anger, quickly he replied — " I wiU go with thee, son, and seek to guide Thy inexperience rightly — breathe a prayer For thy dear mother, while I aU prepare That fits our journey. In a Httle space I here wiU seek thee ; stir not from the place, Lest thou delay us." — Then I stood alone With my torn spirit, that could only groan In speechless anguish — could not even find A voice for prayer, although both heart and mind Were full of supplication. Oh ! how slow Moved on the minutes, each an hour of woe 7n 76 KTNWITH. To my impatience ; but they brought at length The abbot's mules, famed for their speed and strength ; So drear suspense was ended, and we rode With utmost haste, just sighting her abode As the first wailings of the passing bell Eang the sad prelude of my mother's knell. My brother paced about the vacant haU In restless sorrow, prone to chide at all Who dared to Tsnture near him, but to me Gave he fair greeting, kind and lovingly. As for the abbot, he perforce must bear With shavelings now; and, as the man came there With his own brother, he p'rhaps deemed it best To shew no great repugnance to a guest He needs must tolerate ; and so he bore The benediction patiently, and swore No pagan oaths in answer, but supprest Instinctive anger rising in his breast. KTNWITH. 77 He told ns how, last evening, when they took Her posset to his mother, in her look "Was a strange wistfulness, as though she saw Into the spirit land, and felt the awe Of some great presence that was very near, And, bending over, whispered in her ear Something she comprehended, for she said, "Aye, ready. Lord;" and then her hoary head Sank back upon the pillow, and she lay Speechless and motionless till break of day. When she began to call me ; so he sent A messenger to fetch me, being bent On giTing all she wished for, and the man Had done his best ; but the poor life-sand ran To its last grain ere we could reach the spot. And so time passed, and she beheld me not. And then that proud, stem brother wept, as weeps A little child in sorrow when one keeps 78 KTTTWITH. A playmate from it ; for these two had been So long together, with no bar between Affection's impulses, that each had grown Into the other's life, till both had known The stay of kindred, and by trust had shewn They felt its value. He, now left alone, Seemed scarcely half himself, so turned to me As one she loved, who therefore needs must be Worthy his prizing, though no tie of blood Had bound together. Soon he understood By his own feelings what was in my breast, And led me in to gaze upon the rest Death's touch imparted, when he turned to clay What we called mother only yesterday. The abbot stood beside the bed and prayed In soften'd voice,' whose gentle murmur made No discord in our thoughts, but rather stilled The tumult of our feelings, while it filled KTirwiTH, 79 The silence of the chamber, with a sound Of holy breathings of a theme which found Our hearts responsive. E'en my brother's tongue Caught up the strain, and incoherent strung Set words together, as with bended head He craved God's blessing on the spirit fled, "While he recalled the things he would have done. Had he done rightly what befit the son Of such a mother. I too, pricked at heart, Thought o'er my hfe, and wondered if in part I had neglected duty, or fulfilled My role of self-denial as she willed. Had I done all stern Justice could require, Ere heaven became the country of my sire ; Or was she still a widow, wanting there What woman's love had found so hard to spare ? Thus would come thoughts Ulogical, and tear The raw wounds of affection, that could bear 80 KTNWITH. But gentle usage, and which bled again, If pity touched, in hope soothe the pain That rankled in them ; so that this remorse Was cruel torture, which o'ercame the force Of man's endurance, beating down the pride That made resistance — ^broke and opened wide The fountains sealed since childhood ; so the tide Of early recollections, rushing fast, Quickly o'erwhelmed the present in the past. And made us babes again, who needed care Of loving mother, ready to repair Our life's disasters, and each want supply With sure forethought that ever hovered nigh. And it was manly thus to be a child, For manhood is not, cannot be, defiled By loving sorrow. No, — such grief is born From our best nature, and 'tis brave to scorn All idle mockers — to admit we bear A heart not void of feeling, and to wear K-ENWITH. 81 No prudent smiles to varnish over care. Our life is better lor the grief which breaks A power that draws us earthward, and which takes Affection up to heaven ; that bids us feel "lis not a land of strangers, who would steel Their hearts against us ; but the dearest kin Our God call'd from us, only entered in To wait our coming, and with hopeful fear. Now- watch the combat we are waging here. Through the long twilight in the porch we sa^ Watching the shadows grow, while thought begat A wondrous brood of incidents, which seemed Part of the life we lived, or dreams we dreamed . In other days. Anon we softly spoke Of boyish freaks which due decorum broke And earned us censure ; of the hawks and hounds We knew in childhood, and the woodland sounds, Which then had pleasant meaning, and which still Made half the beauty of the coombe or hill G 82 KTNWITH. As we went by them ; how each voice could bring Old joys to greet us, and appeared to sing Of happy youthful days we spent in sports That gentle birth befitted. Then our thoughts Took sadder guise, as recollection came Of reverend elders who had might and fame Throughout the country ; so we counted o'er The men who, living, ever loomed before Our emulation, — ^kindling a desire To be what they were — ^heroes that inspire Great deeds of nations ; and as, one by one. We thus summed up the worthy who were gone, We knew not whither, life appeared to grow To weary lengthiness, that nought could show But tombstones for its road-marks, while a host Of mighty shadows rose to mock the boast Of man's progression, and through mem'ry preach What has been done on earth, and braggarts teach A due humility, till they achieve Deeds they admire, but unattempted, leave. 83 And then my brother of the future spoke, Unfolding plans and wishes that would yoke Our lives together, if I would but quit My raven plumage— don the garments fit For warrior's son — be man again, and sit Amongst my feUows. He should never wed ; His love was buried with poor Winifred, And could not live again. I was his heir By nature ; but no priests should share The land good saxes conquered ; for his ward, A maid of twenty summers — ^blue-eyed Maud^ Should have it rather. She was very fair — Of gentle lineage — nurtured by the care Of our dear mother ; wherefore should she seek Another home as wife ? Would I not break A witless life-bane, and again be free To woo a noble maiden ? could I see A proud name perish, and uproot the tree My fathers planted ? It was Woden gave The sea-kings empire, and before them drave 84 KTNWITH. Slayes priests had tutored by the scourge and chain, Till tongues besought what hands alone could gain. Our's was a niggard God, who never gave Due meed to valour ; but the free and brave Turned from man's life and pent like idle sheep, Lest nature wake while piety should sleep. I was about to answer, and to plead Our mother's wish, as sanctioning my deed Of abnegation, and to tell of health "Won for the soul, far better than the wealth Of all the world ; but at the moment came Dear little Maud, her wonted place to claim Beside my brother, and heart-sunshine broke Upon our darkness, while each word she spoke Called up old feelings I had hoped were dead And buried in the past ; for we two, wed In infant fancy, often used to plan All we would do when I was grown a man, KYNWITH. 85 And she a woman ; but those dreams had past, When monkish cowl its shadow o'er me cast, And made it sin to love her. Since that day I had not seen her ; for I kept away From the old house, and strove to do my part, That promised God an undivided heart. But now we met again ; and each one pressed The other's hand, and in that touch confessed A living sympathy, new-born of pain That was a bond betwixt us, and again Linked our emotions — making us as one In common sorrow, tiU all wish was gone That kept our hearts asunder. But my vow Bound like a serpent, drawing tighter now Its dread folds round me, till it seem'd to crush Life out of feeling, and for ever hush The harp of nature breaking every string That hope could play on, until Love must fling 86 K.TNWITH. The bauble from him that no more possessed Image or superscription he impressed To mark its value — both effaced and gone, Left but a void despair might grin upon. All through the night a mighty tempest raged Within my breast, for nature conflict waged Against my duty, and my vow assailed With endless sophistries ; but nought availed To loose the fetters mother Church had cast So firmly round me, that it needs must blast My soul to rend them ; so I could but pray For strength to suffer, courage to obey. And death to free me. Thus the niggard night Doled out its seconds, and the morning light Slept long in darkness ; but it woke, and then I almost wished that night would come again, Day was so hateful ; for it rent the vail That might have hid me, and revealed the tale KYNWITH. 87 Of helpless sorrow on my visage writ In sunless hours, by thoughts that gathered it From fond heart- whispers I could not suppress, Nor duly hide or render meaningless. The abbot sought me early, and appeared To know what thoughts perplexed me ; so I feared He would have taxed me with them, and have chid The truant son, whose erring footsteps slid Toward paths forbidden ; but he simply read My look's confession, and our converse led To other matters — praised the pleasant spot My brother lived in, which he said, was not Too high or low, too open or confined. But just the town that, every good combined, A man could wish for — did I think that Maud Would be the heiress of the present lord ? Or would my brother marry ? It was time The old grief were forgotten, and a crime 88 KYNWITH. Against his fathers, not to seek an heir To pass their name through generations there. I gave him answers of the vaguest sort ; And he appeared contented, though they taught So very little ; for he next began To talk of my inheritance, and plan How best to claim it ; said that, for my aid, From private information he had made A careful schedule, and therein detailed All the possessions which on me entailed, Were now the Church's, and which I must claim As mine to give her. Then a blush of shame Suffused my face, as in low voice I said — " I cannot father ; mother scarce is dead — I cannot chide with Odun at her grave, And break its rest with usure tones .to crave Her substance from my brother ; have you heart To bid me do it? Father, I would part KYNWITH. 89 With all for ever sooner. Why, the dead Would start again, reproachful, from her bed If so I shamed her." " Son, you hear ! obey !" Was my stern answer, as he turned away, And left reflection's bitterness to school The rebel heart which murmured at his rule, But durst not brave it, and accept the ban Our church suspended o'er recusant man. The abbot*s claim was only for Ms due ; Then why should I refuse him ? I well knew He could not help but claim it, being bound By Ms own vow ; I never yet had found His power become authoritive caprice Or headlong will, that cared not for the peace Of those who served him ; but he did exact An unreserved fulfilment of the pact We made together, and his ire awoke 'Gainst any brother that subjection broke, 90 KTNWITH. Or questioned his authority. His word Must be the law that ruled us, and be heard With dutiful submission — else beware Of penance cell, and penitential fare. Then other thoughts my troubled mind would cross : What right had I to risk the utter loss Of what was mother Church's, and not mine? And how 'twas vain to wisb I could resign A claim which but concerned me as a part Of her great system, though my pride of heart Might deem me- benefactor, whom she owed A debt of gratitude for goods bestowed Freely upon her ; I but brought again The wealth Grod lent my fathers to retain Until he needed it, and now reclaimed As penitential gift, from soul that blamed Its long enjoyment of luxurious days. And goods wMch proved obstructions and delays KYNWITH. 91 To easy-tempted sinner ; so were given To saints endowed with special grace from heaven^ To bear such trials, and with safety trea-d In dang'rous paths that others downward led. I soiigW) the abbotr and my sin contest That had so wrong'd him : said I'd do my best — Submissiye, son-like, would net fear to brave My brother's anger, so that I might crave My father's benediction, and feel sure That he forgave me. I could not endur& His righteous anger; would he deign to cure- My wilfulness with penance; and afresh Redeem my soul from bondage of the flesh. " My son,. I do forgive thee, and rejoice- That thy repentance shews how reason's voice- Has power to turn theCi. 'Tis a glorious task Thou now attemptest — one I could not ask 92 KYNWITH. From many others — one thou wilt not find Too easy of attainment, for thy mind May quail before it. Thou must rise supreme O'er ties of nature, and thy kindred deem As less than strangers ; only our great cause Possess thy feelmgs, and the cogent laws Of duty sway thee. Thou must watch each word Thy brother utters when his soul is stirred With indignation, and essay to turn His hatred from us ; also seek to learn If I have noted all things, or omit Some lawful claim ; if so, assume 'tis writ, And make it straightway, so no loss shall rise. But a clear conscience crown thy sacrifice," To me it was a dreary time until God's acre held our mother ; for the still Of life departed, weighed within my breast As well as in the house, like torpid rest KTNWITH. 93 Of will suspended ; oft when others spoke, I heard and answered, as a man awoke By sudden touch from dreaming. Then I saw Deeds I would hinder, but that ghostly law Withheld and bound me, though I sometimes thounht Can this be holy life ? the being caught From God's own inspiration — does this bear His image here, and is it fit to share The fulness of His glory ? Can it be He wills such service, and by His decree We ruin what He gave us — hearts to love. And souls with impulses that seek to move In harmony with nature 1 Did we rise Through self-sought suff'ring nearer to the skies Than He had placed us ? Were our actions led By those who loved not us, but our's ; who said God's will reflected their's, and so obtained An empire where the soul of mammon reigned, While God was disregarded, or His name But used to screen hypocrisy from blame ? 94: KYNWITH. Oh, how I wished that Benedict were near, That I might pour my troubles -in his ear And ask for counsel — sure to gain some light To lead me in my darkness, where the right Seemed so o'erlaid with wrong, that it were vain For me to seek it, and my only gain Could be fresh bruises to the wounded reed Of earthly happiness ; for tangled weed Eetarded every footstep, while around Destruction yawned, and earthquakes rent the ground I thought to tread on ! But one thing was sure — That I must meet my brother, and endure Hardwords andscorn; while Maud would perhaps despise The sordid monk, so eager for the prize Death's hand extended ; and the love I still In madness clung to, growing dark and chill. Shrivel to apathy, whose kindest glance Would be Medusa's when sometimes by chance We met in the hereafter, to be seen As greater strangers for what once had been. KTNTTITH. 95 Then came the last sad hour, when forth was borne My mother to her grave ; the robes oft worn On state occasions, placed o'er linen shroud That first enfolded, like a snowy cloud, Veiling the coming day, and plaited round With rosy ribbons, that the verges bound Like gleam of early sunshine, which foretold The brightness of her morrow ; while the gold That clasped her azure mantle shone like star Placed by the hand of hope to lead her far Through the blue depths etherial. Thus she lay In lidless oaken coffin, while the day Smiled brightly on her to the very last, And made us sadly happy as we past Down the old lanes where she so oft had led, Until at length we reached the only bed She now could sleep in ; then with reverend care We shut her in, and, weeping, left her there. 96 KTNWITH. And so one less remain'd on earth to love ; And one saint the more in heaven, by prayer could move God's pity for our weakness ; one more voice Swelled the celestial choir, where all rejoice That there is no more pain, and no more night, But perfect bliss, and one transcendent light To gild eternal summer, on the side Of that pure stream whose living waters glide From the great throne ; there all may freely slake Their pleasant thirst, and unforbidden take The fruits of holy knowledge, which the trees ' Dip in the crystal current, when the breeze Sways down some laden branch, and sweeps along, Charged with soft whispers of seraphic song. Then came the dreaded hour when I must seek My brother's chamber, and of business speak T knew would rage him, and which seemed to crush Right feehngs in me ; but I strove to hush KTNWITH. 97 All donbtings of my duty, and went in, Praying the saints would aid me to begin With due discretion ; but I had no skill In diplomatics, so I managed ill E'en from the very first ; for I began To speak out roundly without settled plan Or order of discussion. Odun heard With growing indignation, and averred It was beyond all patience, he must hear Of priestly claims on land that cost so dear In warrior life-blood ; and, that I should aid Such sordid leeches — should be tamely made Their dirty nrack-rake — why, he really blushed To think I was his kinsman. Then he crushed The scroll I offered, would not deign to look A moment on it, but fierce flashing, shook His strong fist at me, while he loudly swore It never should be, and he'd hear no more On such a matter. KTNWITH. Here, as though by chance, The abbot entered— saw, at single glance, That peace was hopeless, though he gave no sign Of such a comprehension, but, benign In look and action, calmly blest us both ; I bent most meekly, while an angry oath Proclaimed my brother's feeling, and his heel Ground on the parchment, as he longed to feel All priests beneath it. " So, sir, you demand A quick possession of my mother's land ? " The abbot spoke not, simply bent his head In acquiescence, while my brother fed His rage by looking at him, and then swore He'd give him seizin if he'd nothing more. He bade them straightway driye him from the gate Through the big dunghill, then to cleanse his state In nearest horsepond, so that he might take A fit possession, land and water make KYirWITH. 99 His own in verity, and on his back Take all he could of Kynwith ; then the pack Of eager Theows set on him, but I cried — "Brother, you shall not; by her love who died So lately here I charge you to forbear, And do as she would have it. Ton were heir To our good father, and should not repine That I demand what is most truly mine Through our dead mother ; you, an Ealdorman, Should further justice — ^never outrage plan Against her majesty, and smite the weak Because you have the power. If now we seek Undue advantage, the Gerefa's court WiU quickly right you, and deny us aught We covet wrongly." Then my brother ground His teeth ia bootless anger ; for he found No words to answer, as too well he saw I argued rightly, and the book of law Was writ against him ; so he chafed and fumed, Called us hard names, and said that we assumed 100 KYNWITH. More than became our station ; as for me, Priests were my chosen brothers, so that he Henceforth disowned me ; I appealed to law, And law should settle. He would not withdraw His claim to suit me, and must understand My right much better ere he yielded land He long had lorded ; and, as for the re&t, If we went quickly he should like it best. And so I lost another earthly love. Whom death, of sympathy, must now remove From out the world I lived in, and which left My best affections hopelessly bereft Of what might centre them, and which, till now, They ever clung to, ready to avow A heartfelt unison, attuned to share In aU the sorrow, happiness, or care That God might send us. Then arose again Dark doubts about the life which brought great pain With feeble consolation, and I sighed K-STNWITH. 101 To think how Maud would hate me and deride The man who wore such fetters, when his will Might rend them all and give him freedom still, Were not his soul enslaved and truly dead To real manhood. So I bowed my head And muttered Paternosters, as a charm To still my heart, and banish thoughts of harm. Awhile it was a dull and lifeless task Of formal prayer, that only feigned to ask For sake of asking ; then another voice Seemed to pray with me, and my heart rejoice By sympathetic sweetness ; a soft tone Of earnest pleading mingled with my own. And wakened feeling, until every word Became an echo that my spirit heard From a far distant country ; then I felt That God must hear me, and was pleased I knelt With one who worshipp'd, drawing yet more near When prayers accorded, mingled in His ear. 102 KTNWITH. At last I moved, and saw, or seemed to see, Another by me. It could never be That Maud had come to succour, and had made Such harmony within me as I prayed. But when she spoke my name, I surely knew It was not dreaming, and she nearer drew To press my forehead with a gentle hand. Whose touch's spell was potent to command A respite from its paining. Then she said I had been brave and manly not to dread The wrath of Odun, and to stand between His fury and the abbot. She had seen How all had happened from a sheltered nook, Where she was hid, to read a pleasant book Writ by King Alfred — noted I was pained ; And that had grieved her. So she still remained Till Odun left the chamber ; then stept out To try and comfort, fearing I should doubt That she, too, blamed me. I must keep good heart — My brother had been frenzied with the smart KTNWITH, 103 Of what he deemed injustice, and forgot His wonted kindness ; time would quickly blot Harsh resolutions from his mem'ry's page — She was my friend, and would not fear to wage A woman's warfare. Here my brother called, And she must go ; but first my neck enthralled With her dear arm, and prest her lips to mine In childlike tenderness — a sacred sign That I might trust her. So we said. Adieu ! And life appeared as something bright and new For what had happened. I was not alone Cut off from all my love had ever known And prized or cherished ; she remained, the one Who still would cheer me though all else were gone. We quickly went from Kynwith ; passing out Through the great gate, and, under mien devout. The abbot hid his consciousness of jeer That rustic mockers shouted in his ear 104 KTNWITH. About the new possessions. Once I thought I saw a kerchief wave ; and fancy caught The outline of a figure which assumed A likeness to my brother, as it loomed Gigantic in the twilight ; it once stayed As though to greet us, then a gesture made Of proud impatience, and pursued its track, Without a parley or once looking back. Then we rode on in silence. Neither spoke Until we reached the abbey, and awoke The aged Peter from his early sleep To give us entrance ; for reflections deep Absorbed the abbot, and bright thoughts designed Dream-painted futures that unfit my mind For verbal converse, fatal to the spell Hope wove around me ; neither could I tell To such companion how my love had grown Too mighty to be conquered, and had flown KTITWITH. 105 O'er superstition's wall to find, a rest More truly safe, more innocently blest, Than cold seclusion gave. The flame was lit That must burn on for ever, pure and fit For God's own altar, when the sacrifice Of thankful hearts, in common praise should rise To tell of goodness which had deigned to teach How child of earth should toward perfection reach ; And, loving what is true, and good, and pure. Most perfect likeness to himself secure. Oh ! for another day Of sunshine and of flowers, When Love might wake and play Through pleasant summer hours. When hope, bedewing every spray His hand triumphant bore away, Should scatter all along the way Bright heaven-illumined showers. 106 KTNWITH. Alas ! 'tis bitter cold : Life's current freezes o'er, And icy bands enfold The flowers that bloom no more ; While LoTe, grown prematurely old, Care's mantle round his limbs must fold, And never more the light behold That made his bliss of yore. KTNWITH. CANTO IT. Dark days had come upon the Saxon land Since wrathful Ubbo landed, for his hand Seemed fuU of death, and in his footsteps came Stern, grim Destruction, with her breath of flame, To blacken all things ; last the scourge came down On peaceful Wessex, and king Alfred's crown Was stricken from him. All had done their part, And done it bravely, but at length lost heart And fought no more together; so the king Was hid ignobly, and no more could bring 108 KYNWITH. His army to the battle. This we heard, In our far land where action seldom stirred The stiU of lone existence, though a fear Would sometime rise, that we might shortly hear Of wars in Devon. So that worthy man. Our prudent abbot, thought it wise to plan Arrangement with my brother. He well knew That land brougit with it martial service, due Whenever needed, and in times like these Odun, as ealdorman, might fairly please To need it always, and absorb his gains In never-ceasing conflicts with the Danes. My brother, too, had found the abbot's claim Was unimpeachable, although for shame He would not own it, and on some pretext StUl held the land, though oftentimes perplext How to retain it longer; so he heard With mighty pleasure, by a hinted word, KTNWITH. 109 The abbot would forego it, and instead Take money compensation, duly paid Before true witnesses. Then Odun's gold Was quickly taled, and he was free to hold Henceforth for ever, all the wide domain That was his fathers', without spot or stain Upon his justice, while his need and pride Had their full will, and rested satisfied. To me the abbey had become a place Where form and routine laboured to efface Man's truthfulness to nature, and impart Saint-fashioned being to the will and heart, That struggled to maintain it, and fulfil Those innate laws that conscience marshall'd still To combat degradation ; but each year Manhood grew weaker, as fanatic fear Raised hideous phantoms to obscure the line Where God wrote mercy with Lore's pen divine. 110 KTNWITH. Yet there I held sweet coaverse with that friend Whose wisdom, wed with kindness, loved to blend Deep mysteries in trifles, and appeared So Godly-childUke that I never feared To be a chUd beside him, and speak out What my heart whispered ; no f ear-mutter'd doubt Conjured up prudence, for his hand, I knew, Wove friendship's garland with the flowers that grew Deep rooted in truth-living ; so I told My weary loathing for long years of cold Torpid existence, whose instinct appeared To drag man brutewards, and each feeling sered That sought to blossom. Could we leave the place? Were there no means by which we could efface Our deed of Ufe-negation, and obtain Fit work and station in the world again ? Care's shadow stole across the old man's look As thus I murmured, and Hope's light forsook The eyes that lit it ; he appeared to grow KTNWITH. Ill Again life-weary, and at once to know Another decade added to tlie years His days had counted, as almost in tears He softly answered, " Yes, 'tis very cold. And I too feel it, for both young and old Have need of sympathy, and long to move In the warm circle of responsive love. " I do not blame you. I have felt the same In by-gone years when it was hard to tame Unbroken nature ; but I won the power To master passion in its wildest hour, And keep it as God's servant. You are young — Too young for such a conflict, and unstrung By doubt and sorrow ; still there is a rest Within the cloister, may be fitting best The old and weary, but which all may find Who seek it, guided by a constant mind, And know the Love which orders ev'ry sphere, If Omnipresent, must be present here. 112 KTNWITH. " There is oue purport in all pious deeds, One object in all rules, and forms and creeds ; And all are right, and all perform their part, If they bestow expression on the heart That yearneth Godward, but possess no charm Of innate potency to shield from harm Those who repeat them — 'tis our wills that plead, Not the poor words an Atheist may read With fitting intonation as he bends With due formality, and careless lends A Toice harmonious to enchant the ear, While sceptic heart draws on his face a sneer." Amazed I answered, " Can it then be true Faith comes to men in varied form and hue To suit their natures ? is there not a test Whose subtle power can set the mind at rest By certainty of knowledge? is the church But God-born children who hare yet to search KTNWITH. 113 For truth untainted, and may ne'er attain That which they seek so earnestly to gain? " Then Benedict looked at me as he sighed From a full heart, and wearily replied : — " Wish what we may, the best of men are men, And, being men, are fallible ; but then Their real wealth is not one atom less Though much once counted gold we now confess Base drossy substance, to be cast aside As we can prove it worthless, and divide The evil from the good. Poor souls that weep Your idols shattered — ^lying on the heap That time has sifted from our holy things — Tou feel the pang that disappointment brings. 'Twas but of clay you formed them ; try again ! The mass diminished purer must remain, And fitter to make gods of — if you need A palpable embodiment of creed I 114 KTNWITH. To fix your mind's progression, and would say, Thus far I God, hereafter this obey ; But hope not, wish not, Zoar though it be, Your refuge, will contain all souls that flee From righteous vengeance, when the fiery rain Of Truth shall scourge the cities of the plain Where error raunteth. 'Tis but small at best, Yet 'tis enough for you, and giveth rest From fear and doubting; so, with thankful mind, Accept immunity. Let others find Their Zoars ; raise no cavil at their choice. Though you perceive some spirits most rejoice In mountain freedom, and abhor the wall That gives man safety with the captive's thrall. " No doubt there is a guide which cannot fail ; But can a test infallible avail Till man himself becomes so, and is trained To bear the perfect truth, and has sustained KTNWITH. 115 The glory of Grod's presence ? Then indeed May perfect knowledge form a perfect creed Fit for all worlds and ages ; but till then Men can but teach men-tinted truth to men, Or teach what they believe not ; so the Church Must, as you say, be childlike in her search For G-od's perfections, ever seeking light From purest sources, and confessing right Although it shame her, showing she was wrong In some small matter that had rested long Upon her altar ; so will men believe Priests are ti;uth-seekers, who will not deceive A brother seeker, and remain content Till fuller light and better guides are sent. " Faith is the gift of G-od, but our's the prayer Which bringeth down the gift. They never share Who never ask it ; God can not impart By force, what but consisteth with a heart 116 KYNWITH. Free in its love, or liate ; destroy free-will, And in that act the living Form you kill That Faith inhabits ; and instead of man, Made in Grod's image, marching in the van Of aU creation, there alone remains A crownless martyr hung in slavish chains That devils sneer at, and whom Truth disdains." So I went back to meditate again, And try each link that lengthened out my chain, To see if one were yielding ; but I found All were firm welded — ^made of metal sound, Secured by cunning workmen. One alone Had power to loose them for me ; but unknown, In a far country, could I hope that he, Rome's sovereign Pontiff, would unfetter me Because I wished it ? True, I could evade Corporeal bondagb with no other aid Than nature gave me ; but the mystic bands, Fix'd on my soul by immaterial hands, KYNWITH. 117 Would still cling round me, and the hand of shame "Would brand a foul dishonour on my name To make it hateful, so that spirits pure Could consort with me only to endure A like defilement, and the good would fling Such leper itom th^n as a hateful thing. Thus should I be but further from the goal That I was seeking ; perjury of soul Would sink me far beneath her, and would break Those holy ties that truth alone can make Between two truthful spirits, op'iiing wide A gulf unfathomed, yawning to divide Our souls for ever, and Maud's heart would break To see me thus unworthily forsake The purity that won her. I must bear God's will with patience, thankful we could share In holy aspirations, which at last Might bring us close together, when the past 118 KYNWITH. Should be all time ; so I resolved to take My cross up bravely — prize it for her sake Who shared it vrith me, and deem sorrow bliss Whose burden gave e'en fellowship like this. There was a care upon the abbot's mind — His new-got wealth — which puzzled him to find The best way to bestow it ; should he free His lands from claims upon them, or should he Hoard it awhile, and so the means provide For sudden flight, did Chance the Norsemen guide To his poor dwelling ? So the gold was kept In his own chamber, where, before he slept, He always saw it. 'Twas a goodly store, Sach as the father never had before Since he was abbot ; and he loved the gleam Of those bright pieces, as the light would stream Down fuU upon them, making each appear A star of hope securely treasured here ; KTNWITH. 119 A prisoned rapture, waiting but his will, To make life's present sparkle brighter still. One evening he was sitting by the ehest In musing fondness, ere he sought the rest That nature needed ; and his hand would grasp Its full of gold, and then again unclasp The captive treasure, that its pleasant chink Might ring out sweetly as a piece would sink Down on the heap beneath it ; and with pride He summed the power that every note implied — His own, to wield unchallenged ; then he planned How part should be devoted to "the land, And part securely hidden, so that Dane, If he came thither, would but seek in vain. Thrctoghout the day a northern breeze had swept O'er a wild sea, whose angry billows leapt Foam-cladden on to rum ; now it smote Against the casement, howling to denote 120 KTNWITH. How ill it brooked exclusion ; then would tear O'er the strong roof, as though to strip it bare Were now its mission ; and the driving rain Came slanting earthwards like aerial main That brought a deluge. So the abbot prayed At times with fervour for all men who made Their business on the water — aU except The wicked Norsemen ; and dark curses crept Among his thoughts whene'er they turned to those Who, lawless, reekon'd aU men as their foes. There was a sudden clamour at the gate ; And Peter rose to ask who came so late To claim our hospitality. He saw A crowd of uncouth figures heaping straw And wood, and aU combustibles they found, Against the doorway ; while the booming sound Of heavy blows resounded through the place. Like summons to great judgment ; then his face KTNWITH. 121 Grew deadly pale with terror, while his tongue Eefused its office, for it froze and clung To his dry palate, as, with mouth agape, He tottered to the alibot, but could shape Only that word, which ey'ry fear contains, For with scant breath he hoarsely gasped out, " Danes ! " Oh ! what a world of woe was in that word, And present woe that could not be deferred, Much less evaded, for no help was near ; And he must suffer all foreboding fear Had ever painted. When the door should yield, In that same instant death would stand revealed In all his terrors, and the gold he prized Would be the spoilers' ; rank would be despised When power could not maintain it, or but gain Its poor possessor eminence in pain. And soon a crowd of trembling monks appeared, Whose looks portrayed the evils that they feared 122 KTNWITH. With too much reason. Some petition made With frantic gesture for the hope or aid' He could not gire them ; others, telling beads" With fevered energy, mixed present needs With those the Church had ordered, praying then, Not like machines, but living sons of men, Whose wants were real'; others simply stood In stolid silence, seeming men of wood That might be hacked unfeeling. One alone Looked calm as ever — one who- had been known By name of wizard ; he, and only he, My dear old Benedict, looked brave and free While all else trembled, and he soon drew near To whisper words of comfort in mine ear That stilled the dread within me ; then he spoke To others round us, till his words awoke The abbot's courage, who upraised his head, Looked on his stricken flock, and firmly said — K-XIWITH. 123 " Priests should be more than men, my sons, not less, And ne'er low fears of present ill confess, But bear it bravely. We are soldiers all In Christ's battalion, and should love the call Of our great leader ; we have done our part In earthly battle, and with joyful heart, Shall soon march homeward ; but we must sustain One final conflict — a brief hour of pain That now awaits us. Let us first confess Our many sins (I would that mine were less, But less I cannot make them), then repair To our high altar ; wait the heathen there As best befits us. I again wiU raise The sacred host, while you chaunt hymns of praise Till we are summoned ; then we all must bear. With holy patience, our appointed share." So in the chapel we once more were met For such devotion as had never yet 124 KTNWITH. Been offered in it, and the abbot said Words tliat had meaning, as symbolic bread Was given to us, for we felt indeed God's bread of life was now onr one trae need, All else as nothing ; and a holy awe So filled our senses that we nothing saw Of what had gathered round us, till at last A mail-elad warrior strode impatient past To fling the abbot headlong, and command His Danes to seize and gag -the howling band. Soon we were bound, and there the abbot lay Half stunned and bleeding 'mid tlie wild arra,y Of northern warriors, while their savage chief Glared wildly round, as it had been relief To tear our hearts out;' then he bade them r raise The father howler, so "that he might gaze More fully at him ; and the abbot stood On the wet pavement faint with loss of blood, KYNWITH. 125 But still undaunted. " So you shut me out — Disliked my company, I do not doubt ; But that's small matter if thy son be told "Where lies his heritage. Speak, man ! the gold That dead folks use not !" " Thou wilt find my hoard Up in my chamber — there the wealth was stored Till I could use it." " That," the Dane replied, " I have already ; what hast thou beside ? " " Nothing, as heaven shall help me." " 'Tis a lie ! (Here came a blow) how darest thou reply Falsely to Ubbo ? I will have the rest If I must flay thee ; what ! a single nest For such a bird as thou art. Here ! take down That shameless puppet with the thorny crown And pin a decent figure in its place. That maid may look at without crimson face." Then ruthless hands seized on the holy form That claimed our adoration — 'mid a storm 126 KTNWITH. Of heathen imprecation tore away The nails that held it, and, without delay, Stretched our poor abbot on the cross that reared AboTe his own high altar, while one speared The Tictim straightway, that we might not lack Completeness in the picture, then drew back The bloody point and held it to a dog That he might lick it ; others raised a fog Of nauseous incense — a satanic cloud From censers violate, while voices loud. Roared out vile ribald songs that mock'd the praise Devotion's melody was wont to raise. So there the shepherd hung, and all around Lay the poor flock, like sheep a flesher bound To wait their slaughter, and if any stirred A stern hand smote them; if a groan was heard A mocking chorus answered, and a look Would bring correction. One by one they took KTNWITH. Their captives to the altar ; one by one They fell down headless, until all were gone But father Stephen, Benedict and I, Who so loved Benedict, and wished to die Before he suffered ; but a weird old man Had fixed his eyes upon me, and began Some heathen incantation ; after said Strange words to those around, who stript and laid Me flat upon the pavement — held me down TiU he had stained a visage on my crown That might have scared a demon ; then they drew Broad bands around me — yellow, red, and blue, With black lines bounded, while to grace my breast Was a dark raven, seeking transient rest Upon a wliite horse, and appeared to feed From the raw wounds his talons caused to bleed. While this was doing Stephen had been led Before the Viking, and his courage fled 127 128 KTNWITH. As he beheld him — ^he began to plead For life and mercy, feeding pagan greed With promised treasure, till the monarch swore By the two bracelets that his father wore He would not slay him if he straight revealed What gold remained, and where it was concealed. Then Stephen answered, " Where I do not know, But Benedict lies yonder, he can show Where all is hidden — nay, he has the skill Of transmutation, so were such his will, These stones were golden." "Good!" the king replied. " Gro, son, in peace, thy boon is not denied : I will not slay thee." Then poor Stephen bent As to an angel, and right gladly went Where they would lead him. 'Twas but little way, For soon I heard his piteous accents pray Again for mercy, calling out for aid Prom the great king who, laughing, answer made — KTNWITH. 129 " Yes, I hare promised, and my faith is true, I do not harm thee, plead with those who do." Then face to face the man of science stood With forces brutal fresh baptized in blood, And, for a moment, even Ubbo quailed Before that eye whose courage never failed When danger met it, but was calm and still, Like depth unfathom'd of immortal will That conscience sheltered from the breath of fear; Though death might come to look at him so near They did not meet as strangers, but as those Who'd journey'd long together, and who chose Each other's company ; but Ubbo's face Was ever changing — hope and hate would chace Each other o'er it, then peeped out a dread Of power mysterious, and vague terror spread O'er the expression, while his restless eye Seemed still to question should he stay or fly. K 130 KrawiTH. At last he roused him, like a man who braved All powers of darkness. " Wouldest thou be saved Or lie there with thy fellows 1 thou shalt live If thou wilt give me gold, and I'll forgive Thy Saxon breeding for thy cunning's sake ; Nay, thou shalt dwell beside me, free to take Thy fill of pleasure ; if not, thou shalt lie And rot as these will. Wilt thou live or die 1 " "Thou speakest, man, as though I wished to live. And that thou hadst some mighty boon to give To one who craved it. 'Tis for many years I've wrought for science, and such toil endears The toiler to it ; now I almost know Some secrets, that would greater wonders shew Than thou canst dream of ! Shall I leave undone Great tasks that wait me, and the prize unwon So near my grasping ? there is none beside With skill to win it, so my death wUl hide KTirWITH. 131 This wisdom p'rhaps for ever, and my life Become lost time — a bubble 'mid the strife Of human waters, broken by the blast That passion breathed, and into ruin cast, With all its expectations, when the light Of heaven shone fairest on it, making bright All darkness of its nature, with the hues Of Hopes to-morrow breaking to diffuse True warmth and glory! must God-yearning mind Still lack its birthright, groan and be confined "Worm-like in sordid matter — bearing still The loathsome burden of external ill That power heaps on it, when a little year Might teach all tyrants what all tyrants fear — The power of truthful manhood to efface That brand of serfdom, which degrades the race God owneth for his children, and who wear Their father's likeness in the form they bear. 132 KYNWITH. " Man ! dost thou think I ever could profane The soul of holiness and stoop to reign Such king as thou art — an exalted brute, Who tramples on God's image ? could I suit My skill to feed thy passions? that were death In truest sense — not mere suspended breath Of animal existence, but an end Of holy aspirations, powers that tend To bring our great hereafter, and the hope Of future being, with a fitting scope For love and knowledge, when such things as thou Shall be past shadows God could but allow To darken walls of time, till Glory's sun Kose and proclaimed Eternity begun. " Do, if thou wUt, as thou hast done before ! Eend my poor life ! 'tis but one murder more, And easily accomplished ; yet beware ! Though judgments tarry, Justice does not spare KTNWITH, 133 Nor sleep for ever; for thus saith the Lord — 'Who takes the sword, shall perish by the sword.' As perished all thy brothers and thy sire, So thou shalt perish ! " Here the prison'd ire Burst like a mighty thunderbolt, and fell With the dread sound that now I knew so well Through often hearing ; Benedict was dead, And all his wisdom, all his aims -were fled From this dark world for ever. Could it be His loving spirit now awaited me Beyond life's threshold, and we two should stray Through Hope's fair country toward eternal day ? But when the Viking looked, no monk was seen ; For laughing Norsemen had stood up between And hid me from him ; so he led the way To our refectory, and there I lay Lost in sad musings 'mid a heathen group, Who called their fellows, who would come and stoop 134 KYNWITH. To scan my decorations, and then rose In merry mood to aggravate my woes By signs depicting torture. Oh ! how slow Seem'd Time's progression ! how I wished to know What fate awaited — praying for the strength To brave and bear it. Well, they raised at length, And pushed me onward, out into the night, Then through the courtyard toward a blazing light That burst out from a doorway ; — onward still To the wide hall where Ubbo sat to fill His horns of vict'ry ; then, with frantic shout Of savage laughter, rose a motley rout Of northern warriors, roaring out their mirth, As they beheld me, like a monstrous birth Fresh from the womb of darkness ; while the king, Screaming like merry tempest, bade them bring The motley bogle onward — it should dance In honour of their meeting — should enhance Their warlike pleasure by the merry pranks That he would teach it. Then, in ordered ranks. 135 The Danes stood round us, while he took a torch And held it towards me as he tried to scorch My shrinking ankles ; so one foot I raised, And then the other, while they, jeering, praised My wonderful agility, and said I was a famous mummer, who repaid The trouble I had cost them, and deserved A princely largess, which the king I served Would give at parting. So the heathen sport Went on till they were weary, and had wrought A very hell on earth, where devils near Seemed shouting all their torments in mine ear. At last they paused, and then a voice cried out — "Send him to scare the Saxons;" and the shout Was echoed through the chamber. One and all Cried out to send me — send me out to fall A victim to their terror — to be slain By Saxon hands before I could regain 136 KYNWITH. Human resemblance ; so the king forbore His ready blade, and out they drove once more To nature's vault of darkness— led me straight, Faint, sick and weary, to the convent gate, And then released me, while their voices sent Strange blessings after, as with pain I went On without knowing whither, with such speed As hope and fear could furnish for my need. With thought transfixed by horror, many hours I rush'd on darkly, tiQ my o'ertax'd powers Fatigue exhausted ; then I gladly crept Among some wheat- sheaves, and that instant slept As though my life was ended, and no day Would bring me nature's summons to obey The mastery of being. But my rest At last grew broken, and sad mem'ry prest Her visions on me. Then amid my dreams I heard low voices ; after, sudden screams KYNWITH. 1<'37 That fear betokened ; then the noise of feet, That hurried off, nor paused in their retreat, Till in the distance sound had died away, Leaving the spot dead-silent where I lay. Soon rose a distant hum, that louder grew, And nearer came ; then tones I thought I knew Spoke something quickly, while upon my crown Cold rain was dashed, which soon came trickling down Upon my shoulders ; so I turned me round To learn what was the meaning, when I found A crowd had gathered round me, armed with flails, And scythes, and axes, forks, and broken rails. And other rustic weapons ; whUe a priest Stood close beside me, prayed, and never ceased To sprinkle holy water, while his eyes Transfixed the demon he would exorcise. My simple movement made commotion dread Among the heroes ; many turned and fled 138 KTirWITH. Lest I should seize upon them ; others raised Their arms to brain me, while the priest, amazed, StOl faster muttered, for another face Now looked upon him, as the fiend gave place To a gay motley. I, not less surprised, Lay staring upwards as I phrase devised Of lucid fitness. I had known him long, And still as priest he held his place among The folk of Kynwith, and their cnihthade trained In clerkly matters ; me he oft had caned For boyish follies, and at times had seen Strange guise upon me, but had ever been Quick at discernment ; now I hardly spoke Before his zeal for silence, needs must choke With seas of holy water, tOl at last By much ablution I was growing fast What he could recognize ; and then his look Was something wonderful, it almost shook 139 My ruthful mood to laughter ; for he stood Like a poor bumpkin who half understood A mad jest played upon him, and so feared He was not wise as lately he appeared. And then I managed to explain my case ; And women screamed and turned away the face At mention of my clothing. Some one ran To tell my brother, and the priest began To borrow garments, taking what he might From one or other, tiU I stood upright In garb hermaphrodite, when one and aU Began to question, bidding me recall The scenes I passed through ; but I hurried on To seek my brother, and replied to none Except in courtesy ; so they, amazed, Must foUow after, and conjectures raised About my strange adventure, whUe some guess'd 'Twas through a carnal failing which 'twere best 1 4rO KTNWITH. I should not speak of ; but I took no heed Of what they uttered, for I felt the need Of common safety would not brook delay, So ran along, passed up the well-known way, Left all my foll'wmg at the outer door, To enter Kynwith as my home once more. Home that first sheltered me When I beheld the light, Hast thou yet room for me ? StiU can thy welcome be Glad, warm, and bright. Home ! I have thought of thee Burdened with grinding care, Mem'ry still gilding thee With all that used to be Joy, when I once was there. KTHWITH. Home ! canst thou be again What I would have thee be ; Dost thou for me retain "What I have sought in vain — Peace, that I left with thee "? 141 144 KTNWITH. Just what I listed. Soon I told my news Of how the Danes were landed, and might choose To spread their raid to Kynwith ; then I showed What ornaments their fancy had bestowed Upon my person, and his aid desired That I might be more fittingly attired Than he beheld me. Odun thoughtful said, " This is grave matter, and must straight be laid Before the shire-mote. I will send express To call our Thanes, then find some sort of di-ess To mend your seeming : you of course will share In council with us, so your heart prepare For manly action ; there is no one now To claim observance of ascetic vow This dire disaster has from thraldom freed — None live to question of your word or deed." Just then I heard dear Maud, and blushed with shame That she should see me, so before she came KTNWITH. 145 I hurried off, and quickly passed the door Of that old chamber which was mine of yore, And hid myself therein till Odnn's man Brought all things needful; then we both began The task of renovation — scoured the paint With willing hands, and only left one taint Of Dane upon me ; but, do what we would, The visage stained upon my crown withstood All means at our disposal, so despair Ended our toil and left it grinning there. 'Twas very strange to find myself again Dressed in the costume of a Saxon Thane Without a cowl to shade me ; and it seemed As though the past were something I had dreamed, Or that I still were dreaming, for my mind Was full of sad sensations, and could find No peace except in action ; rest appeared Chaotic darkness, with huge phantoms reared L 14:4 KTNWITH. Just what I listed. Soon I told my news Of how the Danes were landed, and might choose To spread their raid to Kynwith ; then I showed What ornaments their fancy had bestowed Upon my person, and his aid desired That I might be more fittingly attired Than he beheld me. Odun thoughtful said, " This is grave matter, and must straight be laid Before the shire-mote. I will send express To call our Thanes, then find some sort of dress To mend your seeming : you of course wUl share In council with us, so your heart prepare For manly action ; there is no one now To claim observance of ascetic yow This dire disaster has from thraldom freed — None Kve to question of your word or deed." Just then I heard dear Maud, and blushed with shame That she should see me, so before she came KTTTWITH. 145 I hurried off, and quickly passed the door Of that old chamber which was mine of yore, And hid myself therein till Odun's man Brought all things needful; then we both began The task of renovation — scoured the paint With wiUing hands, and only left one taint Of Dane upon me ; but, do what we would, The visage stained upon my crown withstood All means at our disposal, so despair Ended our toil and left it grinning there. 'Twas very strange to find myself again Dressed in the costume of a Saxon Thane Without a cowl to shade me ; and it seemed As though the past were something I had dreamed, Or that I still were dreaming, for my mind Was full of sad sensations, and could find No peace except in action ; rest appeared Chaotic darkness, with huge phantoms reared 146 KTNWITH. Upon the throne of reason. I must work To 'scape the shadows that would creep and lurk Where'er I stood inactive, and would weave Such scenes around me I could scarce believe They had not present being. "Was it reaUy true That all were gone whom yesterday I knew, And saw, and heard, and talked with ? had one night So swallowed all the past, that morning light Looked vainly for its traces ? Could it be That Benedict was dead, and I should see The abbot's face no longer 1 'twas so strange, So vei'y terrible, that life should change So soon in ev'ry feature, and I wept Big tears of anguish for my friends who slept. A timid summons falter'd on the door ; Then came another, louder than before. Because I did not heed it, being bent On giving vent to sorrow ; so I went KTNWITH. 147 To learn its meaning, and a maiden saw Who trembled much, and looked at me with awe, As though I scarce were human. Would I speak With Maud a moment ere I went to seek My brother in the councU? She had heard Some vague reports that evil had occurred, And wished to know it fully ; she was now In waitingfor me. — If I would allow. The maid would guide me to her, so I strode Behind the child, whose actions plainly shew'd I must not come too near her — ^tripping on Some paces from me, quickly to be gone When she had shown the chamber ; so alone I entered in to find myself unknown. Maud had been Mst'ning for a well-known tread, And, as I touched the latchet, raised her head To see a stranger enter ; so her look Was not of welcome, but it rather took 148 KYNWITH. Expression of resentment ; for no monk Stood now before her, but a Thane, who shrunk From what he deemed unkindness, while she thought Intrusive spirit had a stranger brought TJuwelcome as unbidden ; but I came Onward to light, and stammered out her name ; And then she knew me — flew to press my hand — G-ive sister's greeting, and make quick demand What meant my masquerading. So I told , All as I sat beside her ; keeping hold Of the small hand she gave me, whUe her tears Would sometimes master, sometimes too, her fears At tale of woe or danger. Oft I soothed With sympathy instinctive, while I smoothed The tresses that lay nearest, and aside Would ever draw them when they fell to hide Her features from me ; she appeared to think I could protect her, so at times would shrink From fancied danger, drawing yet more near To win more safety, so that I could hear KTNWITH. 149 Her poor heart beating when my voice no more Disturbed the silence and my tale was o'er. Too soon there came a summons to attend The warlike council, bringing to an end Our loving converse ; then she bade me go, Fear not for her, but, by brave actions, show She had not overrated. So I went, Pull of high thoughts, determined and content To do her bidding, and my brother smiled To see me look so bravely — said the child Was growing like the father, and would rise To be a man as he was, and despise Such spindle men as priests, who fear'd to stand And answer questions with a warrior's hand. There was no room for any long debate. For when a foe is drawing near the gate 'Tis time for action ; so forthwith they made An instant levy, and attention paid 160 KTSrWlTH. To walls and stores. The castle gates were closed, And strictest charge upon the guard imposed Against all strangers. Long before the night. Three hundred men had mustered, for the fight They knew impended, while huge heaps of grain And salted meats were gathered to sustain The Saxon warriors. Then the Norsemen came And camped against us, sending in to claim A prompt submission ; but our chiefs replied By a bold message that the Dane defied. And bade him come and take us ; this he knew Would be a bloody business ; so he drew Strict hues about us, and sat down to wait Till famine made him master of our fate. So days passed on, till we began to feel The foe more terrible than fire or steel That ever fought within us, and men spoke, 'Twere better we should yield us to the yoke KTNWITH. 151 Than die of hnnger. Then I thought of Maud, What she would suffer were the heathen lord Of us and our's ; then, sealing fast my eyes. Refused to see it ; but such scenes would rise In fancy's mirror, that I needs must go To see she yet was guarded from the foe. Whose fangs awaited, and who less would spare, Because men deemed her lovable and fair. Sadly we met and soon I told our fear, And what must be if help should not appear — Help that we hoped not. She grew very pale. And shuddered as she heard it, but no wail Proclaimed her weakness, only she sat still, As though in thought she measured all the Ul That might come on her, then in whisper said, "Is there no hope ?" I sUent shook my head, For grief half choked me ; then she looked again Full in my eyes, and could no more restrain 152 KTNWITH. ■Her woman's tenderness, so sudden flung Her arms around me, while our lips were clung In one long kiss together which told all Our love's ambition, let what would befall. That eyening we in council met once more ; But men's hearts failed them — they could but deplore The evils that were on us, and they said Delay was useless, for the lack of bread Would conquer Woden ; they had surely done All that men could do, but the foe had won. And we must own it. If our lives were spared That would be something, loss might be repaired If life were left us ; so it was proposed That, with the dawn, our gate should be unclosed, With none to guard it, and the Dane be told We were content to yield him up the hold. I stood to face them ; " Sirs, I am a priest, And as such you despise me ; but at least KYNWITH. 153 My claim to manhood is as great as your's Which sinks so quickly, and whose strength endures No weakness in the larder ; can you yield Without a struggle while your hands can wield The seaxes of your fathers ? I must go And consort now with women, they will know That life consists of freedom, and will die If they can not maintain it — so will I," Then rose my brother, pressed my hand, and said, We yet would Kve and teach the foe to dread The name of Saxon ; they were three to one. But that he cared not — he would lead us on That night to victory. The Danes secure Lay in their tents, and our success was sure If we assailed them boldly, while they slept After the wassail they so long had kept In honor of their prowess ; he would take A hundred men, and, ere he could awake, 154 KYNWITH. Slay the proud Viking and the jarls that lay In the great tent around him ; then dismay Would seize upon the Norsemen, and the rest Would be small matter when they onward press'd. These gallant words awoke the ancient pride Which bade the Saxons conquer, and defied The scowl of danger. AU the Thanes arose And swore to aid Mm ; so my brother chose His hundred warriors — men whom war had tried In many battles, and where he should guide Feared not to follow ; me too, he desired To march beside him ; so I was attired In warlike harness, and my father's sword Entrusted to me — on its edge were scored A hundred conflicts, yet my maiden hand Was reckoned worthy to receive such brand. We went to Maud to bid what well might be Adieu for eyer ; as she clung to me, KTNWITH. 155 It pleased my brother, who. such wishes spoke As nourished loTe and joy, whose fondness broke The anguish of our parting — made excuse To go before me that he might unloose All fetters from affection, and give vent To his own sorrow which the hour unpent. Ye who have loved what seemed a hopeless love Win know what we knew, as our hearts could move Once more in unison, for you have wept As we were weeping o'er the hope that slept May be for ever ; you, too, p'rhaps, have felt As we were feeling, when we humbly knelt To pray for strength to bear it, while within Whispered a voice that would at times begin To lisp out words of comfort, and foretell If we had patience all might yet be well. Then came the muster at the dawning hour. When not a sound revealed the martial power 156 KTNWITH. That gathered darkly ; all was laid aside That might betray us whUe we sought to hide Our coming from the Norsemen. We would be Still messengers of fate, whom they should see The moment that they felt us, as we broke Their dreams of safety by the ringing stroke That death would follow. Soft we stole along Past careless watchmen, and were soon among The sleeping foes, then stealthy onward went. Until we halted near the royal tent. There one by one we noiseless entered in, Each took his post and waited to begin The work of slaughter. Odun stood beside The ruthless Viking, raised his hand and cried, " Strike, in God's name ! " and ev'ry blade was red With warm life-blood that heathen reins had shed That instant on it ; then our battle cry Eose on the night-wind, meeting diie reply KYNWITH. 157 From friendly voices, as the ready Thanes Rushed on to help us, while affrighted Danes Fell fast before them. One alone essayed To stem the torrent, and an effort made To raise the Raven, but my happy hand Scored a fresh mark of honor on the brand That lay within it, and the fated bird Passed from the Norsemen, and no longer stirred Its plumage for their guidance ; so all fled In the young light and left their chieftains dead. For miles we followed, ceasing not to slay The hapless fleers ; all along the way We thickly strewed them, until Odun staid Our reckless folly, and an effort made To end disorder, calling us to ranks We had forsaken, for he saw the banks Of our fair Torridge, and the ships that lay Moored thick along them, whence to join the fray 158 KTNWITH. Came many Norsemen, swarming like a hive Of bees new angered, and began to drive Our foremost backwards, till from man to man A sudden panic through the army ran. But Odun's band had gathered round him now In open ranks, that would their friends allow To pass between them, yet could instant close And bar all passage to the heathen foes Who followed after ; so the flight was staid. And those who fled, behind us were arrayed To swell our battle. Then the foe came on Like a wild wave that rushed and broke upon A rock that curbed it, while the crimson spray Dashed all around, tiU under foot it lay Almost too thick for standing, and the slain Choked up the very roadway as again Our spears moved onward, writing there the name Of Bloody Corner, which should long proclaim KTNWITH. 159 Here Danes were worsted in a deadly fight When men of Devon struggled for the right. So fled the Norsemen, beaten from the land They came to conquer, and upon the strand W e stood to watch them as the billows tossed Their iU-manned barks, until the Bar was crossed, And all were speeding westward, then we turned, Took the rich spoil our valor's effort earned. And proudly marched to Kynwith ; but how thin Had grown the ranks that marshaU'd late to win Their death or freedom. As we looked around, How many friends were now no longer found Amongst the living, and how very few Escaped uninjured, so the battle grew A harvest of such sorrow as obscured AH the bright glory victory secured. My gentle Maud was waiting, and her eye O'erflowed with joy and thankfulness, so I 160 KTNWITH. Grew also thankful, feeling that I took Most holy inspiration from the look Her love cast on me ; 'twas a little spring Whose source was with our Father, an