CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY THE WORDSWORTH COLLECTION r Destroy the spell which fancy would invest Yon ancient town, perch'd on yon mountain's crest- Forth from yon battery look along the stream, Which short space flows unto the sounding sea, — There have I mused in wild poetic dream, Noting that picture which mine eye might see. 78 When in her theatre Fve often played^ In tawdry robes of royalty arrayed. How oft abused thy theatre has been, With rogues and vagabonds, these many years J Fellows, whose acting would disgrace a scene, And turn to laughter any play of tears. Ignorant fools, with dull unmeaning face, Such reptiles the profession but disgrace. To hear them murder Shakspere's honied line, And " tear a passion into tatters"* too ! Snivelling out woe, their rants, 'twixt howl and whine^ Whati;orture 'twas, to be mix'd with a crew, Who, if they knew in life their proper grade. Would broken stones, or proper porters made, A quiet air doth reign, deep as serene, Through Berwick's silent streets, as plague were there; All still and lonely. Seaports I have seen Are famed for bustle, noise, like crowded fairs ; The sailors rolling carelessly a-down the street, Exchanging jibe and jest with all they meet. But here — it seems to me as all the ships Were lying forty days at quarantine ; Sometimes a vessel ready on the slips. Her launch will part enliven this dull scene ; Or steamers coming in from southern port ; To see whose decks do loungers all resort. 79' Noting her living cargo landing here Is something new — amusement for a time ; Or walking out along the noble pier, (Which always needs repairs with stone and lime.) Or note the lighthouse, — like a pepper box Perch'd like an eagle's nest upon the rocks. Right over, (lying like all villages On the sea-beach,) lo ! Spittal there you see,. The " Brighton" of these parts, which pillages Its summer bathers — (nay, I tell you true,) When fervid days of sultry heat set in. And drive the gentry here to splash and swim. Ascending with the river, Tweedmouth lies. Joined to Berwick by its bridge so long. The fisher here his net in summer plies, When salmon in vast shoals the waters throng. In Tweedmouth's quiet, narrow, lone churchyard. Rest the remains of Berwick's youthful bard. Wilson ! writer of " The Border Tales," A brother poet reverences thy tomb ; Thou'rt gone from summer's heat or winter's gales, — Ta'en from this earth in pride of youth and bloom Light lie the turf upon thy clay cold breast ; And may'st thou now enjoy a heavenly rest. When I am gone and lying 'neath the stone, Perchance some kindred spirit will of me Sing a requiem, — making manly moan ; And some rude lines unto my memory 80 Will be recorded. As to Wilson's shade, This rambling epitaph my muse hath made. Wilkie ! eccentric squire of Ladythorne, Hath hale in age and merry, breath'd his last. I knew him well, — and often has he borne His part in jest and laugh ; when mirth flew fast, The man of sober life may censure thee, But I will reverence thy memory. Because thou lovest the wine cup merrily, Is that the reason they should scandal fling Upon the turf that now doth cover thee ? I of thy noble qualities will sing : Thou hadst a feeling heart and open hand, A liberal purse, and mirthful at command. These will advantage thee, I hope, on high, More than a hypocritical demure air, Or life of sober, mill-horse drudgery ; ' Yet hold — let still my muse keep language fair. Let Wilkie's virtues linger on this earth. His faults rest in the mould whence had he birth. Berwick — birth-place of ray first-born child, The mother of a manly race I hope — Let not my muse indulge in visions wild, Or castle build in wild and dreamy trope : My child ! born humbly in thy quiet town. May she arrive at virtuous renown ! 81 (But time must realize this what I say) — Melancholy Berwick's silent ramparts look ; Thy Castle, too, in ruins hoar and grey, Where have I often pored on Shakspere's book ; Thy river ! chronicled, romantic stream, Classic, as fount of fabled Hippocrene ! Oft have I roamed along the Tweed's fair stream. Clad angler-like to snare the finny race. Where sweet Whitadder trembles in the beam, Where health and exercise embrowned my face — Snaring the trout with patient hand and eye. Or roving where the glancing salmon lie ; Then plunging mid leg in the dark green wave, Joyous in spirit ; mountain, dale, and stream, An exclamation of delight may crave. Dark Norham ! famed in Marmion's knightly theme : With Berwick's sons I have spent happy time, Our merry sports unstained with touch of crime, Or in the cooling wave I've plunged full oft. Buoyed up by sinewed limbs in pleasant swim ; While earth and heaven look'd so rosy ; soft The summer's noon that melts to evening ; Aboard the Manchester, or fisher's boat, Perchance upon thy waves I've rode afloat. Is there a spot upon thy grass-grown walls, This giant limb of mine hath not spann'd o'er ? Now desolation all our joy appalls ; Thy ruin'd ramparts — moats now fail'd and hoar- p 8^ The' Time's rude hand, hath fallen on thee light. Yet still thou stand'st a bold and warlike sight. Let us pursue the indentations of thy coast, — Ruder and savage doth thy cliffs arise ; Lo ! Lamberton appears,— whose toll's the boast, Where Scotland first meets pilgrim's wond'ring eyes,' — The northern " Gretna Green !" where lovers may Be join'd as man and wife for easy pay. Now heath and mountain desolate and bare. Mingling in one, are clad in brown array ; And golden gorse gives fragrance to the air ; Or hare-bells nod with daisies o'er the way. Now on to Eyemouth, boasting no renown — • Such as it is — a lonely fishing town. Where the sea beats in opposing motion Unto the rivulet that seeks its tide, — A scanty burn, — the wide and boundless ocean Is the rough field whence markets are supplied ;^ For haddocks, cod, and turbot, herrings, ling, Which hardy fishers round the country bring. The fishing coble in yon little creek. Rocks like a bird upon the emerald tide. Thy rugged harbour, where at low tides seek The adventurous urchins where the crabs do hide ; Or when the east wind rouses from its sleep The wild and angry waters of the deep ; 83 Surging in giant column o'er yon bluff, Which rising on the left protects the town. iVe seen thy waves come o'er in masses rough, Even as untam'd winds that loud hath blown, Rending from mast and yard the feeble sail, — When hardy seamen shrunk to meet the gale. How oft the wail of woe hath risen here. For fisher drown'd in rough and violent storm, His boat stav'd on thy rude and wooden pier ; — There 'neath thy piles hath lain his bruised form ! But when I saw thee last 'twas misty day. Albeit the hedges put forth fragrant May. See Coldingham, whose ruin'd Abbey fair, Looks lonely o'er the wide and heaving sea ; Around it hangs a melancholy air, As mostly round all abbeys wont to be ; With here and there some trees in verdure clad, Whose branches withered, aid the picture sad. The houses too, are " far and few between ;" Both gentle, simple, — all are but the same. A sense of dreariness pervades the scene ; As though through foreign lands a stranger came ; — Whilst ploughmen here and there plough desert fields. That for their labour scanty produce yields. Proceeding on to Houndwood, Coppersmith, No whit the better are the fields or feuars, Half savage women stare ; sans sense or pith. Or loading dung carts 'mid the Lammermoors ; f2 Here Wolf's Crag ! fated Ravenswood's last keep, Frowns like a giant o'er the dark green deep. I almost thought, as I did look thereon. That sombre Ravenswood would start to view ; Or Lady Ashton-, Bucklaw, all would throng, — With Alice, Craigengelt, all Fancy's crew \ Or Balderstone, who nothing said, sae crouse ; But 'twas for honour o' the '' auncient house." And now, Dunbar and castled crag appears, And thrivins^ harbour ; — house of Lauderdale I That all in solitary pomp uproars. Its mansion o'er the street, like spectre pale. Dunbar ! — whose shattered castle seaward leans, Renown'd for nought but fish and squalling weans- Haddington's long street and ancient town ! The country round grows something better too ; But come we to a moor of great renown, — So Tranent's famous plain appears in view, — Where Yore the Chevalier and Highland clan, Away Cope's troops in nimble terror ran. But come we now to Dalkeith's cleanly town, That hath somewhat a southern, English look ; Such dingy dens when walk we up and down. The eye sees not in street or private nook. But Edinbro' hath tourists of her own. Make o'er your darling city, critics, moan— 85 I ne'er was there, and so I know you not ; I came from Peebles once to clean Dalkeith ; (My destination I have now forgot) ; But let me now in my extracts be brief; For do I tire, and my muse grows dull When from excitement I have any lull From Dumfries Town, where wrote I canto first Of Mieldenvold, where Burns's gorgeous tomb Looks o'er the scenes that had his genius nurst, Whose fiction then lay cradled in its womb — Oft have I wandered round the poet's shrine, And wish his praise might after death be mine ! There sleeps he, shrouded in his country's tears : I've look'd upon his house with silent awe — For genius' haunt brings with it holy fears — Sat in the Glohe^ where once his word was law, Penned to his memory a rugged verse^ Which now 'twere tedious in me to rehearse. At Hucknall Churchy in Notting s fertile shire, So have I bent o'er Byron's simple tomb, What time the sun with gold, tipp'd village spire. And seen the roses in old Newstead bloom ; Made pilgrimage to Abbotsford, when frost Bound Tweeds fair stream — with rime the earth em- boss'd. Have I not travelled ? Yea, since I was born — Some six and twenty summers — of a life Chequer'd with smiles and pleasure — -joy and storm — With equal hand partaking peace and strife ; 86 And in my progress have I actions seen, That read like fiction in a poet's dream. Lincluden's Abbey ! fair Nith's winding stream. And so to roaring Solway's sudden tide ; Oft have I seen it tinged with sunset's beam. Or coming in like wild horses descried : I've wander d many lands, and more, I hope, Than what I sing in wild and sluggish trope. Proceed we now to Moffat's famous wells For mineral water, thence to Peebles' fane, Then down the Lammermoor, whose pasture swells In bold and lofty ridges. Upon yon plain Is Carberry Hill, where Mary feeble fight Offered to subjects far too strong in might. Skirt round Dunse Law, the town lies at its foot, " For Dunse dings a'," as Scottish proverb says ; Birth-place of Scotus — here his life took root — Some time he studied here to win the bays ; In the Town Hall doth hang his picture rare, Ascetic, scholar-looking, worn with care. To Hutton's silent village let us range. Whose graceful church the pilgrim will repay ; The Whitadder doth glide by hill and grange, In sweet and shaded spots its course away ; No better stream for trouting can be found. Save TilVs dark stream, by Wooler's haunted ground. 87 In deep carouse Fve whoop'd my hours away, Swallowing " Fairintosh," like liquid fire, When beating up subscribers, here at bay, I've found good fellows as could heart desire : But now, no more, for gloomy Mieldenvold Demands that we his farther life unfold. Like an invisible and airy being, Follow we the Student in his chase ; His heart's consistory, his actions seeing, Whilst vainly searches he for slightest trace, To tell him of his bride. Yet 'twas defined To follow the hallucination of his mind. It was not madness bade him journey o'er The earth's wide surface, nor 'twas grief nor care That sent him forth to brave the ocean's roar. To Greenland's climes or Arab's pastures fair ? But one wild hope, ne'er dying in his breast. Which made him travel thus sans sleep or rest. If this be madness, then are scholars mad — Poets — philosophers of all ages, ranks — Warriors or statesmen, merry, wise, or sad, All that madness troubles in its pranks. Were mad as was the Student ; past hope diseased. Death's dart alone from fancy him released. But let it pass. Is madness then defined. That it should snare man's senses thus so free ? 'Tis near allied to genius ; thus we find Most learned writers on that point agree ; 88 But mad or not, it is not mine to say, We follow but the Student on his way. For to our prolific muse alone is given The power of serial flight by land or sea, To sweep the caves of earth or vaults of heaven, Depicting actions with bold imagery ; Sweep on, untiring muse, when plumed thy wing ! On, on ! and of the Student's actions sing, On the wide, the rolling, boundless ocean ; The blue, the free, the fresh, the ever heaving ; That reservoir of earth, whose restless motion, The prototype of man, no less deceiving, Ducks low as hell, and then again as soon Surges its spray aloft to kiss the moon. On that wild main, the highway of the world. Which spurns at man's dominion, like wild steeds ; Whose monstrous billows, when in anger curled. Lashed into foam by blustering winds ; whose deeds Are chronicled in woe ; ever in motion ; How shall we call thee, wild and treacherous ocean ? Couldst thou but speak — Oh had but thy waves a voice, Or but thy waters fashioned with a tongue, Many a sad heart might methinks rejoice. That cheating Hope this many a year hath wrung ! Sad deeds and actions, hid within thy deep And sluggish caves, thy waters would not keep. 89 Then should we know the fate of many a bark, Peopled with manly forms ; and weeping eyes That wept their unknown fate, and long did mark The weary lapse of year and year with sighs, At length would dry their tears ; convinced their doom Was true they wept : for ever lost to home. Where sleeps the President ? Say, did she sink When slumber sealed the eyes of all on board. As hung she on the verge of horror's brink ? Why dost thou still her fate in silence hoard ? Or did she founder in the broad bright day. Calmly and slowly : mighty ocean say ? Or was there storm and darkness, wind and rain. The ragged lightning blazing in the sky. As plunged she moaning on ? Say, did she strain Her groaning timbers — as convulsively Men battle to the last of lingering life. And then with sudden break they give up strife ? Were there pale cheeks, wan looks, and tearful eyes, Noting the gradual wrecking of the hull ? Loud shrieks and wails, and prayers ? low drawn sighs, Which many a one drew there with bosom full. As thought they of their home, ere did the wave Sweep them remorseless to their rolling grave, — ^ Drowning in mountain billows the wild cry Of wretches struggling in the mighty tide, Telling unto the fighting sea and sky How many mortals in that conflict died : 90 Thou keepest a secret well — nor plank nor spar Floats up to tell their doom, or where they are. Perchance amid the ice their vessel lies, Hemm'd in by snowy cliffs on mountains set, Their brittle peaks burnished with many dyes, Fantastic formed dome, temple, minaret. Which look to seamen as they plough the deep Like mighty cities, hung on glittering steep. Say, doth she lie a crushed and shapeless thing — Planks, cargo, engines, all in ruin quite ? Her tall masts gone, like bird with broken wing ; Did her crew linger out an Arctic night, Till cold and hunger did the work of death. Or frost with kiss of cold froze up their breath ? Or did the fire, mastering element, Appal them ? wrapping all in sheets of light ? The watch placed, wind fair, and the sails all set. Say, did she float a mass of fire bright ? Whilst haply strove the crew to keep in check The flames, that fed on hull, masts, spars, and deck ? Then some, perchance, scared with the advancing flame. Leaped overboard to 'scape a fiery death ; Others sat still, regardless of the pain, That scorched them with its hot and hissing breath : Burnt to water's edge, say, did she sink, Like one o'erpowered wath heat, then swollen with drink ? 91 Or did the power which forced her o'er the foam, Like some huge mine sprung, scatter them on high ? Tearing her sides of oak forged iron from, No time for help — nay, not for one wild cry ? The last despairing yell of life, thus riven Rudely away, and on to darkness driven ? I'll think no more ! Conjecture vainly strives To pierce the fortune of that missing bark ; Hope sickens, too, in breast of mothers, wives. Who mourn sons, husbands, in thy waters dark : Partly I'm interested, for I knew A worthy man, one of that doomed crew. And that he was a happy son of wit. Of sock and buskin — one who oft beguiled (With harmless joke, and temper hallowing it) Moments, when even sour cynics smiled : Farewell Power ! — be this thine epitaph For grave ; the wide and rolling sea thou hath, Which is thy monument ! No more of this ; Sleep where thou mayest, a briny coronal Shall deck thy brows amid the " wild wave's wist," Thy doom is not unmourned : sad tears do fall From woman's eyes, widowed ; now thou art not, In all hearts save that one thou'lt be forgot. But to my theme : the Student and his trip ; For now my muse indulgeth not again. Upon the sea there floats a gallant ship. Whose course is o'er the wide and trackless main 92 To that far land Columbus first explored — The El Dorado of those souls on board. The pilot now hath steered the gallant bark Safe through the rocks and shoals which line the coast ; Hemm'd in by Neptune's flood, that briny park, (Britannia's shield of strength, and Albion s boast) Descending to his boat, with friendly hand He waves adieu ! then pulls unto the land. And now the sea breeze freshens. Up the shrouds The fearless sailor springs with nimble bound, Unfurls the canvass, which he quickly crowds On spars and yards, whilst heels the vessel round As though she bent her tall spars in adieu Unto the land, which now looks dim and blue. Farewell ! for now the wind hath caught her sails. And plunging thro' the billows on she goes ; Farewell to England's shores and fertile vales ; Farewell to friends — defiance to our foes ! The bustle, stir, and shouts, in billows drowned, When leaving shore — ^the vessel's outward bound ! Now bend her masts, her jib and foresail set. The steersman eyes the compass steadily ; The gathering surge, when winds and waves are met. Now heels the vessel roughly on her lee : Hark to the whistle ! now her sails are slack, Then filled, she pays away on t'other tack. The Student stood alone — he had no friends, No wife, or children, father, brother, son, To call forth tears, which parting sorrow sends When loving hearts and hands are severed from. Where Hope may whisper " we may meet no more," Or " come again," or " 'scape fell ocean s roar." What cared the Student if the freshening gale Should blow a hurricane, and overwhelm. Tearing to shreds each wide and bellying sail. The ship refusing answering to her helm : He did not care, he looked on life and death With equal glance, nor cared for fame nor breath. Nor did he feel uneasy when the waves Broke roughly o'er the bows and drenching him ; He treated them as summer rill which laves The adventurous urchin's first attempt to swim ; For he had that within which laughed to scorn The war of waters, as tho' ocean born. That sickness, not unlike misanthropy (But 'twas not that) lay brooding o'er his heart ; Talk not to him of dull philosophy. It could not ease the woe or dull the smart (That constant aching) of his sorrowed soul Which joys and passions sunk beneath controuL With vacant eye all lustreless, and cheek Colourless of blood and ruddy hue, And brow all pallid with wan sorrow's streak, As quick the vessel on her passage flew, 94 The Student still untiring paced the dect, Until the land became a misty speck. And then it sunk beneath the waters blue ; Night came anon, and then the pensive moon Shone out unto the Student's steadfast view, Casting around a light as broad as noon, And stars outnumbered streaked the vault of night, Tipping the rolling waves with broken light. A bodily Childe Harolde — not ideal, (As Byron hath his own resemblance drawn) ; He did not ape a woe he did not feel, Nor ills imaginary thus fly from ; But was our Student like that man of woe, A wanderer through life for ever moe. In silent and in lengthened glances lost, The student mused upon his Peri's form ; His own wild fate, on rolling billows tost, Seeking his bride thro' sunshine and thro' storm, In meditation lost. Ah, who could say, What was to cheer him on his trackless way ! What but that eager spring of human life, That freshening oil unto existence wheels, That constant armour to us in all strife. That passion, slave, as well as monarch, feels — Hope ! well named the nurse of young desire ; Whose cradle is the grave, who feeds on fire. 95 Which cheers us on through rough and stormy ways, Lends music to the woods, light unto gloom, That hallows life with sunshine all our days, Soothing sad sorrow resting on our tomb, — Mingling both night and day in all our pleasures, Relieving present woe by future treasures. It leads us on as by a magic spell O'er the wild pathway of a stormy world, To Tempe's vale, where blest Arcadians dwell ; (Where flag of care by Hope is ever furled), Where we may dance on rose leaves; where no shower O'ercasts the sky ; where sunshine hath all power. Such led the student, comforting his soul, When others found a pleasure in the talk Of answering voyagers ; and haply stole A moment from their scanty cabinn'd walk, To enter into converse with their kind. Cheering with light discourse th' o'erlaboured mind. But sullen as the surge which bore him on, The student by himself in silence sat ; Nor jest ; his heavy gloom would wean him from The flash of mirth, quick wit, and social chat ; Like tow'ring Teneriffe he look'd him down On lesser hills which bask'd beneath his frown. And some essay'd at first to break the gloom Which thus had gather d o'er him. But 'twas vain And they the second trial desisted from ; As though th' attempt were garlanded with pain^; 96 And so he roam'd amid them like a sprite^ Who from lone solitude reaped stern delight. Now weeks pass'd o'er since left the noble bark The fostering shelter of old Albion's shore, Yet ploughs the swelling sea, when midnight dark Shrouds from the sailor's sight the billows' roar. On sunny days, when cleaving dolphins play Around her prow, — outstripping e'en her way. A ship appears ! a mast, yards, sails, and deck ; Her mainsail back'd ; a furlong off she lies ; Her frowning guns her country's sons protect, Which they have done through many victories. Each captain greets with phrase his stern compeer. Ere they o'er waves their different courses steer. Letters are given ; newspapers exchanged. The gun is fir d, each ship luffs to the gale ; Now from each others company estranged. The vessels part, — ^now fills the flapping sail^ Lessening with distance to each other s view, Then fade into yon horizon of blue. Alack ! our student had no letters, notes. Or papers that he cared to look into ; — Let husband, sire, or wife, who haply dotes On some lov'd form ! lost to his hungry view, Feel thrill of joy as heaves a sail in sight, Nothing on earth could give to him delight. 97 The morning broke, the sun in might arose, Filling the vault of heaven with its heat, The light breeze died away ; still hotter grows The blinding sun, whose rays now fiercely beat Upon the heads of those exposed unto Its radiant fire, which tenfold hotter grew\ The vessel lay a log upon the brine. Which in one long and lengthened swell swept on ; Far down it glittered like an emerald mine, With pearls and sparkling jewels thickly strewn ; In vain on booms they crowd superfluous sail, In hopes to catch a whisper of the gale. The sun hath scorched it up, — now to the shade Afforded by the bulwarks, boats, or spar ; Each panting wight his swelt'ring form hath laid ; While from the blister d planks boils out the tar. So hot the decks, nor naked hands or feet The boards can touch, so burning is the heat. Some swabb'd the decks with water — thus affording A temporary coolness. But the heat Beat fiercely down, and licked up from the boarding Each drop of moisture ; whilst a thin blue sheet Of vapour floating in the air, — as though The sun would draw up seas to cool his brow. The student sat still silent in the glare, The broad and scorching planet full on him ; Nor can I tell what then his musings were, — With half shut eye, fierce pulse, and burning limb, G He seem'd asleep — or to a nearer glance. He lay like one bound up in sudden trance. Perchance he slumbered, and did in his sleep Dream of his fairy bride ; which comforting His fever d soul, did thus entrancing keep His senses bound, and as a robe did fling O'er his pale brows a balmy influence, That calmed his fierv heart and lulled his sense. e Oh, dream of life ! oh, mortal pleasure ! blest Is he who tasteth of thy sleeping bowl. If thus existence were a dream of rest. How tranquil were our lives, — how rich the soul In its estate of dreaming honours. Fame Were then a bauble ; not fit with sleep to name. But wake, thou dreamer, to reality Of stern existence ! and the worldly ways Of mammon-minded man with covert eye ; Whose hearts ne'er thawed in holy friendship's rays. Wake unto plodding life, to dust and gloom, Compared unto the joy thou wakest from. Lo ! it is night, and now a change hath come Over the sky; the ocean and the air No longer roll the waves with lazy hum ; The vessel through the billows' way doth tear ; The wind hath risen to a heavy gale; — " All hands ahoy !'' to take in every sail. 99 The sky is overcast, — and in the west Dark mass on mass of lurid clouds are piled ; The waken'd waves are tipt with howling crest, And roll in thundering speed like coursers wild ; And as the day droop'd, drops of heavy ram Fall one by one — whilst doth the vessel strain Through seas ; with creaking plank and groaning beam. Darker and darker grows the thick'ning night ; Now and again the waves phosphoric gleam, Flashing in specks of momentary light. And now across the sky the lightnings flash, And then a burst of thunder ! crash on crash !. Accompanied with heavy floods of pelting rain, As though yon crash the vault of heaven had torn. Heels o'er the vessel like a wretch in pain, With struggling limbs, and batter d sides all worn. Rain, wind, and lightning, fills the vault of night With thunder peals ! The storm is at its height. The ragged lightning, like a nimble foe, Played round the mast, the shrouds, and every spar, Pitch dark the night — the ship with shuddering throe Struggles against the elemental wf^r. And as the seamen clung to rope and shroud, A dreadful peal of thunder, long and loud ; Deafening and frightful, like the mighty roar Of Jove's artillery, or an earthquake's din. Eruption of a mine, the Atlantic on the shore, Lashing in madness, torrents bellowing: g2 100 The noise of fallen angels, when they found Their future home would in that roar be drown'^d. And as it rattled in the lurid sky, Whilst sheet on sheet of lightning lit the gloom,, Waked up the Student with a piercing cry, • Amid that frightful din his slumbers from ; Whilst gazed the seamen on him with dismay^ As on her broadside did the vessel lay. With one hand lightly placed upon a spar, There did the Student look amazed around^ As though distracted with the mighty war. Blinded by lightning, deafened with the sound Of crashing thunder, whilst his darlc eye flashed. Bright as the darting light which round him dashed Its fires harmlessly ; erect his youthful form. Whilst others cowered, overcome by dread ; He looked the demon of the present storm, Roused by the thunder from his fiery bed Of brooding earthquakes ? some minds temper hath To feel delight at storm or thunder's wrath. Whilst gazed the seamen there, the Student turned^ Ab tho' attending to some airy sprite ; Clasping his hands^ as tho' some passion yearned Within his soul, now filled with new delight ^ His eyes were fixed as tho' on vacancy, Ee looked as tho' some phantom he did spy. 101 There, with a garment made of spotless white, Light on the gunwale's edge a spirit stood ! Whilst round her head there shone a halo bright, And pointed she unto the raging flood : Her brows were in a wreath of roses bound, The which the lightning played incessant round ! All saw that heavenly form, light perch'd upon The vessel's edge, as bird upon the spray, The Student's terror seemed dispersed and gone, As gazed he raptured on that beauteous fay : And still approached he nearer — 'twas his bride ! Who seemed inviting him to seek the tide. He guessed her meaning, for he sprung unto Her side, to clasp her in his close embrace ; Wild horror seized on all the fearful crew. Mouths all agape, wild eyes, and bloodless face : They would have staid him, but a sudden dread Of terror o'er their limbs all helpless spread- A moment hung the Student on the side, Above the howling waves which raged below ; Whilst lightly leaped the vision in the tide. And, like a snow-flake, vanished from their view : And, with a cry of joy, the Student dashed Into the waves, that round him madly lash'd ! With one loud shriek, all rushed unto the side. Scared with his mad attempt, reckless and brave ; In hopes to pluck him from the dark deep tide. Which now must prove, alas ! his watery grave : 102 They throw o'er hen-coops, ropes, but yawl or boat^ In such a sea, would never keep afloat. They watched the Student drift far to their lee, Throned on the billows ! By the lightning's aid They now and then his struggling form could see, When he stern battle with the mad waves made ; Which tossed their flaky manes in sport around That child of earth, in loud and deafening sound. They put the helm about, but vain th' attempt. The gale increasing, hurled them back again ; The sails were shivered ere they could be bent, And so they left him on the rolling main : And right before the wind they held their course. Which now seemed 'bating something of its force. As if the Student, Jonah-like, did still The storm, with sacrificing of his life Unto the elements, to work their will — Himself an offering to calm all strife : So thought all there, and blest themselves with prayer, Leaving the Student unto Heaven's care. How fared the wretched youth ? Oh let no pen Attempt description of his agonies ; The tortures of his soul, his wild shriek, when He plunged amid the wild and roaring seas : The cold waves hissing round him like a pall, As sunk he deeply down from vonder fall ! 103 Emerging from the flood, the fihii forsook His eyes ; and he awoke as from a trance : His mad attempt now on his senses strook, As o'er the waves he threw a hurried glance : That wildered look of wild and lost despair, With one loud shriek rose 'mid the troubled air. The vision, which had lured him thus to dive Into the sea, deserted him ; and now He woke, 'mid howling waves, with life to strive, With starting eyes, faint limbs, and icy brow ; And looked upon the ship — his former home, As Adam did on Eden exiled from. Oh, God ! then to his thoughts there maddening rush'd The thoughts of death unto the drowning man ; He plied with arms and legs — convulsive gushed The water from his lips, and colder ran His life-blood round his heart ; the ship would tack And to its bosom take the Student back. They would not leave him there to seek a death The worst man's lot could have, inchmeal to die ; To struggle till the waves o'erwhelm'd one's breath, With tiring nerves, and soul of agony ; And eyeballs starting with the fearful strife, As desperately he battled for his life. No, no they could not do't — the vessel turns — He saw it as the waves whirled him on high ; A moment, and the hope that in him burns Changes to madnrss — to his aching eye — 104 The ship resumes her course ; then did he shriek, As struggled he amid the waters bleak. And fearfully essayed to reach the bark — His ship, his dove of peace, Oh ! were he there, But once upon the bosom of yon ark ; Vain are his trials, and wilder his despair : The waters like a feather bore him on. Now toss'd on high, then smothered with their foam. Yet still he struggled, till his arms grew weak. And fainter grew his blows ; and now the waves Broke o'er him, drowning in its spray each shriek Of woe ; in vain attempt his life to save : Just then his arm struck 'gainst some substance hard. A grate of wood his farther progress barred. Thrown over by the sailors for his aid. In the vain hope that it might rescue him ; And now the grating present refuge made. He clung to it with stiff and tiring limb : Just as the 'whelming wave rose o'er his head, To sweep and number him among the dead. Oh ! the wild thrill with which he threw his form Upon that frame of wood— his ark of joy ; A paradise to shield him from the storm, Yet in his happiness was there alloy : The ship stood lessening on amid the hue Of lurid light, and now it fainter grew. 105 He could not frame a pray'r for this his life, Saved, for the moment, from the roaring seas ; A momentary refuge from the strife, Bought with a thousand fears and agonies : And there awhile his frame exhausted lay. While dash'd o'er him the rude and boiling spray., As if the waves, like furies, howled in wrath, Because his life was rescued from their maw ; The ship pursues her wide and rolling path, Nor more of her the Student ever saw : And now a new sensation rose to view Unto his brain, as dreadful as 'twas new. Here might he float upon the rolling main For days and weeks, if life could last so long ; A speck of life upon that watery plain. While up and down the waves, in billows strongs Bore him now here now there, now slow then fast As through his brain this dreadful thinking past, Sometimes his little raft in long low swell Surged to a mountain's summit gradually ; Or, meeting with repulse, it sudden fell. Dashed by opposing waters fearfully ; Or else a monstrous wave curled over him, Threatening annihilation unto life and limb. Whilst in his ears a low, low dirge was ringings A stunning feeling lay upon his brain ; The roar of waters ever round him singing. As drifted he upon the boundless main : 106 His throat grew parched, his lips climg fast together, Whilst floated he like weed or ocean feather. And when the night came on, the struggling stars Did faintly peep from yonder pitchy cloud ; And in the east, the sky, with streaks or scars Of light, half-baffled, broke the Ebon shroud : At times the moon emerged with glimmering light, And with a misty brightness lit the night. He could not think (as cold the night-wind blew Upon the waters, thrown like snow along ; As thought on thought thus suffocating grew, And crowded o'er his brain in rapid throng,) His present situation could be real ; He could not be that wretch these woes to feel. Fate could not thus have cast him such a wierd, To perish inchmeal on that frame of wood ; A merciful Creator, loved and feared. Adored in prayer, bountiful and good. Would never suffer thus his child of clay To drift unheeded o'er that watery way. Thus wrung with thought, perplex'd with madd'ning fears. The first night passed away ; then came the dawn, Showering on bud and flower dewy tears ; In woodland screen the deer uproused the fawn ; The wind hushed down, although the rolling main Tossed yet its waves, like fevered wretch in pain, 107 As did the day advance, the sun broke out^ Fiery and hot ; above, the glowing sky Was like a furnace, burning round about Like scorching rays on plains of Araby : And then the choking drought and pain of thirst- Oh, God ! it made his throat almost to burst. And then he thought of waving trees and fields, Of cooling rills, of bubbling brooks and pools, Of cheering drink the vinous tendril yields — (Such juice the burning traveller ever cools) — Of champagne country, river, fountain, lake, Where cattle in mid pool their thirst do slake. Was it not strange he thought upon these things Whilst he lay tossing there upon the wave ? We think not on the misery which woe brings When we are ill and on the verge o' th' grave ; So was it with the student — thought seemed lost, For never his wild state, on ocean tost. Came to his dreamy mind. If e'er he turned. Upon his side to catch the freshening breeze, Right on his face the sunbeams fiercely burned, And parched him up in thirsty agonies ; For though around, beneath, was one wide pool, He dare not taste one drop his tongue to cool. And once as he did look beneath the waves, He sow a dusky object, motionless, Peering upward from the ocean caves. Its eyes fixed on his face in hideousness. 108 Their dull red colour flashing into flame, As upwards from his lair the monster came. And now in narrowing circles swimming round, He saw a shark — the monster of the deep ! His senses now, in wild amazement bound. Fixed on the monster, who in lengthened sweep Shot by his little raft — so close, the spray Thrown by its plunge upon his garments lay. Now backward, forward, sideways, then a-head, The monster sullenly roamed here and there, His fins and tail in lazy motion spread. His long white fangs occasionally bare. Struck horrid fear into that Student's brain, As in his wake that hideous monster came. Racked fear and madness, agonizing throes, Now cheered by hope, now plunged in wild despair, His power of reason now more feeble grows. As still yon object gambolled here, now there ; And he confined ! — (from his heart bursteth groan) Like stern Prometheus unto a stone. He looked into the heaven's burning skies. To hide that monster from his startled view, Although the sun struck on his aching eyes With pain intense, that tenfold hotter grew ; And when compelled he threw them on the seas, There still that monster mocked his agonies. 109 He shouted once or twice, but all in vain^ In air immeasurable his voice was lost, He saw but cloudless sky and heaving main, On whose wild waves the wretched youth lay tost ; Alack, that those same waves should ever bear High Royalty, and yet uphold despair. Borne on the bosom of the heaving deep, A noble squadron stems the ocean's tide — • The Queen of England o'er its billows sweep, Dancing in all appliances of pride : A nation's praises waft her on her way. As swift she passes headland, creek, and bay. In vain would Neptune bar her onward path ; Tho' winds may blow and labouring billows roar, Her barks defy almost the tempest's wrath. As quick their onward passage plunge they o'er — The standard of Old England at the main Floats proudly as they skim the watery plain. From every port fresh vessels swell her train. From every harbour sounds of joy are heard — Floats o'er the waves from shore a fairy strain. Or roar of cannon, startling the sea-bird. That sails half sleeping on the roaring waves. Or haply roosts in some of ocean's caves. Glad faces throng the beach. The glass is set Seaward to catch a glimpse of Royalty ; Old age and youth, staid matrons, maids, are met To watch her progress o'er the bounding sea — 110 And ever as her squadron heaves in-shore, From earth fo heaven ariseth one cheer more. And now the clouds do lower. Lo ! 'tis dark night, And darkness hides our monarch from our view ! Not so ; upon the waves a blaze of constant light Illumes each vessel and ber joyous crew — And hark ! the boatswain's whistle strikes the ear, And flies o er watery miles distinct and clear. Be calm, thou roaring ocean — smooth thy waves ; Lull, lull, ye winds ; ye growling thunders calm ; Thy path, Queen ! lies o'er a thousand graves, Of corses buried there sans book or psalm — The Queen of Britain skirts her native isle — Winds, ocean, clouds, upon her progress smile ! Farewell awhile to Windsor's Royal towers. Her broad deep glades where roam the dappled deer — Farewell Virginia's lake and Esher's bowers, And Claremont's noble parks — o'er waves we steer, And miss those sights we see upon the shore ; Here all is drowned in ocean's sullen roar. ocean, dost thou not honour majesty ? Wilt thou not smooth each wrinkled wave for her ? Be like a rivulet — calm and silently Waftmg yon squadron unto Granton Pier ! 1 speak to thee in vain — no flatterer thou ; To queen or peasant scornest thou e'er to bow. Ill Welcome her, Scotia's hills and sky-topp'd mountains, Welcome her, dark brown heaths and shaggy woods, Welcome her, smiling plains and flowhig fountains. Welcome her, roaring streams and classic floods ; And let the cannon's roar inform the land When first she sets her foot upon thy strand. A long time hath elapsed since did thy Queen Visit thy far-famed land. Ages have past, And Time hath fled o'er many a moving scene, Since Mary Stuart visited thee last. Welcome to Scotland ; dames and nobles stand To welcome thee — a true and loyal band. The night comes on again — where was his bride ? The spirit ! who had tempted him with grace. To bear her company in ocean's tide, And thus deceived him with her angel-face ? Oh ! could it be some evil sprite had power, To warp his senses from calm reason's hour. His mind had hitherto supported him Amid the dreadful thoughts of his lost state ; But now he lay with cold and shivering limb, With throbbing brow, dim eyes, and desolate : His long black tresses drooped his bosom o'er. Like ocean-weeds strewn on a desert shore. His mind began to wander 'neath this trial — He could not bring his thoughts unto one point ; One moment was he in the fairy isle. Then on his native Rhone, quite out of joint : 112 His ideas, like a tangled mass of hair. Were ravelled in a heap by wild despair. God ! the feeling which crept o'er his brain^ Like drowsy sleep, or like a stunning blow ; That callousness to worldly care or pain, That Lethe of the senses, wild and slow The trance crept o'er his frame, despite his soul. This lethargy outmastered his controul. Forgetfulness was stealing o'er his sense, Though reason struggled yet for mastery ; And that with power so firm and so intense, It shook his very soul in agony : in vain he strives — -the madness seizes him Alike, if doth his raft now sink or swim. What feelings came upon him in the dark And silent hour of the watchful night ? The first incipient burst of madness' spark. And idiotic gleams of wandering light — That ignus fatuous of the fevered mind, What brain such thoughts fantastic e'er could bind ? Strange fancies haunted him in midnight hour. He laughed, and sang wild strains unto the waves ; And now despair asserted his wild power, And loud the wretched Student madly raves ; Then sinks into a moan, then horrid fears, Relapsing after while to sobs and tears. 113 And now he thought strange shapes around him came, Bright forms of seraphs, of immortal bloom ! Clad in bright glory — round their brows a flame, As angels wear, when hath the silent tomb Released the mortal spirit from this earth. To join its Maker, who first gave it birth. Of lovely graces ! blooming syrens fair, Of houris ! who, with sparkling eyes of fire, And words of honey, which the ambient air Bore to his dazzled sense, as tones o' th' lyre ; When doth ^olus breathe on sounding string, And music ravishing around doth fling. Some came around him, others fanned his face, Some offered him a raiment for his use ; Others bore to his view, with winning grace, Ambrosial viands, and bowls of nectar d juice : And when he would have tasted of their feast. He saw but midnight vault and ocean's breast. Methought, that as he drifted o'er the seas, A strain of heavenly music on his ear Came sweetly borne, a burst of symphonies, Of angel music, ravishingly faint, yet clear ; Such as the waters give, when on the land Soft music floats from some perfected band. At first, with long, low, swell-like coming grief. The sounds came fitful stealing on his ear; Then changed to tones of triumph, pausing brief. Filling his soul with joy as well as fear : H 114 So softly sweet, so sad, that music strayed^ Like sorrow mourning early worth decayed. And now it louder grew, that joyful strain, And from a cloud of light came dashing on, A noble vessel, o'er the illumined main. Flinging aside light wreaths of feathery foam : And music floated there, blythe bells were ringings The hum of voices, and sweet angels singing. And seraphims and forms, clad all in white^ Were in that vessel placed in glorious dress ; Flashing around them shone a clear soft light. Those seraph forms bore marks of Heaven's impress r Onward the vessel in it& glory came. Her sailsy mast, shrouds, besprent with radiant flame. Awhile it tarried by the Student's side. Who looked bewildered such a sight to see^ As rocked the ship upon ethereal tide, In all appliances of reality : Then passed it swiftly from his eyesight on^ Far, far away, upon the trackless foam* And with it fled that halo of sweet light. Enveloping awhile that spectral bark ; Which for a moment brought him wild delight, And now the sky, the sea, around grows dark : Again he floats like weed on ocean cast, Whilst, like a dream, the vision from him past. f;^^^1 .JVi- And then a form came swiftly on the air, Whose beauty maddened him as gazed he, on So delicate, so rosy, soft, and fair ! The wretched man exclaimed in tortured groan^ " Out, devil ! would'st again my reason shock .? Oh, God ! why dost thou thus my judgment mock ? " I know that face, that light step on the sea, Say whither, angel, wouldst thou have me go? Away! to death or worse I follow thee." The spirit faded in a radiant glow ; He rose to follow, when a sudden splash. And sharp, short whistle, with a plunge and dash Of waters, told him that the monster shark , Still hovered round about his raft, in wait, . . To snatch the Student, when his little ark Should, foundering, leave him to his horrid fate : He closed his eyes, and sunk in madness down, And, like a wild wolf, bayed the clouded moon. The fourth day sees him like a helpless wreck, Still on the wild waves tossing to and fro ; Whilst on the billows not a dark'ning speck Foretells him help. And gradually low His heart now sinks — for hunger, thirst, and want By turns do make his wretched bosom pant. And now the sea-birds, that at first did sweep With frightened wing around his wretched hea4 No longer thus at farthest distance keep, But boldly on his raft their pinions spread, h2 116 And look with vulture eyes^ that plainly speak Upon hisform as prey unto their beak. Now worn so fainfc, he scares them with a groao So wild^ unearthly, in its accents drear ; They answer him with scream, wild as his own. And wing their flight, overcome by sudden fearer And then return anon — to be again Roused from the raft by screams of smothered paim- Strange sounds assail his ears in naingled hum — The crow of cocks— the noise of village bells — And bark of dogs — in crowding tmnult come ; And on the wind the distant music swells. And voices call him from his dozing trance ; But vain he sleeks, with wild and hurried glance^ Restless, like fevered wretch, to catch their form ; No sight around but sky and watery plain , Rude murmurs of the seas ; of coming storm ; Days yield to nights, and nights to momingV wane; Yet still that horrid fancy o'er him broods — Wrecked on the seas, the worst of solitudes- Now faintly beats his heart, his pulse declines. And reason hovers o'er her trembling throne ; A chaos of wild thoughts his mmd defines — Speech now hath left him, but a long drear groan Occasionally breaks from parching lip. As glares he madly round for sail or ship. 117 The winds arise again, tlie billows swell. Yet still the ocean shark attends his prey ; The wild waves seem to sing the Student's knell ; His coffin is his raft, where he doth lay Dying by inches — slow advance of death — The worst of dooms — to gradual yield the breath. Whilst like a pioneer our tyrant works. And saps life's citadel in certain aim ; Whilst like a foe the life in ambush lurks ; 'Tis vain — death, like a bloodhound on its game, In closing circle comes full swiftly on, Till closing with us, so our life is gone. He knew not now, that wretched man of woe. How passed the time, or fled the hours away ; Convulsed awhile with agonising throe ; Now spasms racked him as he dying lay : The sky seemed all a fire ! a bloody hue Obscured the rolling billows from his view ! Madness hath crushed weak reason s wavering power. And down upon his brain the ruin falls : Keep, battlement, and wall, and highest tower, Crashing in thunder now his soul appals — The last remains of sense hath, frightened, fled. And left the Student with the breathing dead- Dead to all sense of future touch of ill ; He breathes, 'tis true — the blood in creeping motion Oozes unto his heart, which death will kill, With slow and certain torture on the ocean : 118 Strange visages of horror round him grin ; Unearthly mouths seem ever mocking him. He sees a speck of light 'pear in the sky, A long way off, thro' thousand miles of space ; As on it dwells his wild and glassy eye. The star comes downward with a whirlwind's pace : He sees it coursing thro' the heaven's vale, At whose dread flight do other stars turn pale ! And now it threatens to o'erwhelm his brain, A roaring mass of fire, and belching smoke ; Onward with lightning speed the planet came ; And ere he prayer of mercy could invoke, This burning cauldron of a mighty world Seemed o'er his brain in horrid ruin hurled — Crushing and grinding him to nothingness ! Then all seemed blank awhile, and dreary dark ; Then pain foretold returning consciousness Of blood and pulse, but not of reason s spark. And now upon the ocean horrid shapes Career like furies — baboons, tiger-headed apes, Misshapen pythons, horrent animals, The spawn of wild and fever-'fected brains. Such as the sober-thoughted mind appals ; His thought 's diseased, yet vividly retains Those monstrous chimeras, which flocked around His rolling raft, in wild and confused sound. 119 And now there floated up unto his view A body, mangled by the fishes' teeth ; Its bosom swollen — its pale face gashed and blue, Such as madness in its vision seeth : And as the waves the body floated o'er, Resemblance to his Peri bride it bore. He knew that lovely face, now gashed with blood ; Corruption had begun its loathsome task ; A worthless corse, upon the briny flood, Its eyeballs gone, in whose light he did bask — His heart, his brain, alack ! could bear no more ; A little, and the dreadful strife is o'er. In his ravings drank he of the flood. Deeply and madly, as 'twas wine he quafF'd — A boiling poison seemed to seethe his blood ! Yet still he clung instinctive to the raft : He knew no more, his senses from him fled. And left him on that raft as one quite dead. * As at the word of heaven, this earth resolved Its air, land, ocean, to their proper place, The Student's life, not yet from flesh absolved, His brain, reanimate with reason's trace. Struggled once more — his eyes saw glimmering light, After a long, long sleep in madness' night. 120 And men were grouped about his couch of pain ; Soft whispers and light footsteps flitted round : Where was his raft, and where the rolling main ? For weeks his senses had been fever bound — A ship had snatched him from his certain grave. Whilst senseless floated he upon the wave. END OP CANTO SECOND. AN TO 111 THE ARGUMENT. Three Priests of Northumberland — Morpeth — Bothal Castle — Ballad — *' The flight of Lady Jean"— Mitford Ruined Fort— Vale of Wans- beck — Felton Church and Scenery — Banks of Coquet — Warkworth — Its Hermitage and Castle — Coquet Island — Sir Bertram, the Hermit. The Hermit's Meditation — The Story of Mieldenvold resumed. The Student visits Paris, during the reign of Terror, the horrible sovereignty of Robes- pierre ; the carnao^e, and all the remorseless scenes of a Revolution ; the Student, led by the promptings of his diseased brain, wanders at night amid the horrors of storm and battle in a vague hope to find his Fairy Bride — his awful denunciations 'mid the tempest — his post beside the guillotine, and in a " fayre ladye," dressed in black, he recognises his long-lost Fairy Bride. His mad and extravagant joy at again beholding her — her silence and intense sorrow, he takes her to his home, dries her drenched weeds, and entreats her to relate the manner of her reappear- ance in life. She bids him trample under foot the Image of his Maker. He obeys — the wild and indefinite awe which steals o'er him when his Bride kisses his lips, " as if a serpent him had stung." They betake them to their marriage bed, his mother's phantom appears to him — the grisly visions of the night " thick coming fancies ;" his perturbation and alarm — he sinks to sleep — his broken and agitated dreams, he awakes and finds his Fairy Bride dead at his side ! He alarms the household — his horrible suspicions — entrance of the gens d'armes — terror of the soldiers. His Angel Bride, a young lady who was guillotined the day before — his despair, agony, and incurable madness, with his death. — Alnwick Castle and Grounds — Review of its past possessors — Siege of Alnwick by Mal- colm — his death by Hammond — Pierce Eye, so called — River Aln — Howick Hall — Hotspur's Tower — Alnwick Moor — Freemens' Well — St. Mark's Day — Shrove Tide — Foot-ball play — Hulne Abbey — Brisley Tower — Dunstanborough — Bamborough Castle — Fern Islands and Light- house — Wreck of the Forfarshire — Grace Darling — Rescues the Crew with her Father — her decline and early death — Lindisfarne — Durham — St. Cuthbert — Ravensworth — Lambton — Prudhoe Castle — Ponteland — Gilsland Wells — Corbridge — Stagshaw Bank — Hexham — Battle — Queen Margaret— Source of the River Tyne — Dilston — Earl of Derwentwater — Newbury Ford — The '^ coaly" Tyne — Canny Newcassel — its buildings — Manufactories — Booksellers — Jesmond Gardens — Lambert's Leap — Eulogy on Coal— Newcastle Races — The " Keel Row" — North Shields — Marsden Rock — Sunderland — Tynemouth — its haven, abbey, and bar- racks—Ballad, " The Northern Star"— Hartley Pans— Seaton Delaval— Blyth — The Conclusion. 124 My tale progresses — gentle reader, say, Yet are you weary of my rambling rhyme ? Or, in distrust, throw you the book away, And find it no relief against dull time ? This is my last of all ; yet sit and see ^' Minding true things by what their mockeries be, Scott has his haunted ground by Eildon Hills, Burns his Ayrshire hath made classic strand ; Wordsworth is priest of Cumbria's lakes and rills, Then crown me poet of Northumberland ! Sole monarch of the Border ! tourists may Visit thy beauties in some later day. Within thy shire three priests at present dwell, Good fellows all, if judge we by their names ; On Sabbath days, when knolls the tolling bell, They, unassuming, preach in lowly fanes ; Goodall, is All good ! and so Goodenough Is as good as is Goodall — ^in rhyme rude and rough. Morpeth, famed mart for northern herds of kine, Which weekly to thy market town repair ; With flocks of sheep, and haply droves of swine, And Irish reapers crowding, when a fair Disturbs thy quiet state. In fancy free. Path of the moor, Morpeth ! I sing of thee. Thy sons are niggard, not thy soil ; for round Hath Nature spread full many a loveful scene, Of waving corn fields, with green thickets boun^, Of hill and dale, or sweeping vallies green : 125 Seek Mitford's mined castle, and thine eye A still, small ruin, will at once espy. A little spot, but round it Nature i^reads A scene to rival Italy's famed spots ; Trees bending downward, wave their leafy heads^^ And shadow pretty nooks and grassy plots : Where the young lamb doth cull its tender food Of springing herbs, which fringe that mimic wood. Bothal ! proud edifice of former days. When might took right ; thy failing front appears^ Like hermit, silent with perpetual praise, A lonely record thou of former years : Are thy walls rife with no fond, deep record. Of days of yore, when Bertram was thy lord ? Throughout this shire, full many a pleasant spot. With moss-grown ancient church, and lonely yard ; (First reared by mortal hands, long since forgot— The rustic edifice their bones now guard :) Are scattered up and down. Sweet Whittingham, Felton, and Morpeth too, attention claim. Now range we on by many a ruined pile, Where Warkworth's castle looks along the shore ; And grimly frowns on Coquet's lonely isle, Against whose rocky stance the billows roar : Warkworth ! still famed for holy hermitage. To see whose cell do youths make pilgrimage. 126 Warkworth ! thy hermitage — a lonely cave. Is fit for woe-tired sorrow-sickened wight ^ All silent round thee — peaceful as the grave^^ In glaring day all still as deep midnight : An altar of repose— as though the air Around thy cell was redolent with prayer. Secluded from the world, thy rocky cell, Shrouded by trees on brink of Coquet's side ;; Here did the self-inflicting scourger dwell, Augmenting with his tears the rippling tide :- His beauty's shrine and tomb ! within it stands The frail memorial of the hermit's hands. If we believe the lore, which years and days Have hallowed yonder little cave of prayer, There did he dwell in penance, singing praise And orisons unto his " lady fayre." If long within that cave thyself should rest, Such thoughts as these thy fancy may suggest. And think them written by that lonely man, Who founded in the rock this little cave ; And here his days in righteousness he ran. His dwelling, " fayre chappell," and last, his grave t Prayer, perchance, might bring a short relief Unto a bosom rent with hallowed grief There is a chasm in the flight of time : For many years the Student saw I not ; And he had roamed from sea to farthest clime, Forgotten, not forgetting his drear lot ; 127 And Paris city held the Student's form, When hot rebellion, like a thunder-storm, >r Shook the foundation of the " grand monarque. And the loud tocsin rang to arms and blood ; And barricades were formed, and evening dark Hid from men's sight that red and gory flood Shed by the guillotine, when Robespierre Darkened th' historic page with crime and fear. When the bold citizens, their country's guard,. Dethroned a monarch, and defied his power ; When, 'neath the axe, the nobles neck lay bared. And violence polluted holy church and bower ; When, 'midst loud yells, the infuriate multitude, The dwellings of the " noblesse" into ruins strew'd. When the devoted Swiss, true to their king, O'erwhelm'd by thousands, desperately fought ; When night her thousand massacres did bring. When women met a death with tortures fraught ; When the proud city to her base did rock, And human blood bedew'd the scaffold-block. The " sans culotte," the savage commoner. Had revelled in the blood of Gallia's peers ; Now sated with the fight and costly fare. When richest wines had quieted their fears ; When, through the gloom of night, at times there rung The sounds of musquets, or the dying, flung 128 Into the flowing tide of stiUen Seine, The grave of many a squire and gentleman ; The laugh of citizens the hours between, Rose in their orgies, from some riotous den r Then walk'd the Student forth to taste the night,. And note the bloody and remorseless sight. The night was dark, and ever and anon The sheeted lightning quivered in the sky ; And the loud thunder, like a signal-gun, Volley'd i' th' heavens Jove's artillery ; As if the vault above was nearly brast. The heavy rain in showers fell thick and fast. The Student heedlessly pursued his way, Wrapped in his mantle, he defied the storm ; Before his step the dead in silence lay. Mangled and lying on their bloody form ! The victims of stem slaughter's jubilee. And now the furies danced with fiendish glee I And he who, like a demon, strode along. Loved more that tempest than the summer^s sky ; He loved to rove these butcher d dead among. Than where the righteous in sweet slumbers lie ; And there was pleasure in this stormy night. That to his bosom brought a stem delight. His path lay by the bloody guillotine. Whose death-besprinkled boards were red with gore Not all the waters of the sullen Seine Could Wash those stains of guilt from off" the floor : 129 The life's blood of the innocent and meek Lay on the scaffolding in guilty streak. There the stern patriot for his country bled — There the ambitious 'neath the axe had fell ; There the fair beauty bow'd her lovely head. And sigh'd her last unto the tocsin knell : There the young child had kissed its mother's breast, And sought with her its everlasting rest. The Student paus'd as in the warring storm A lull the angry elements did make ; He prayed once more he might behold that form, For the dear love of Jesus' blessed sake : But once, and though the foul fiend stood at hand, To do his bidding, and obey's command, He held his hand aloft ! the quivering shaft Play'd all around it in fantastic light ; Louder and louder still the furies laughed. And rain and tempest filled the vault of night. And one loud burst of thunder shook the air, In answer to the Student's impious prayer. And vividly the lightning played around : There by the guillotine a lady stood, Clad in black velvet, which beswept the ground, Leaning against that guilty pile of wood — She moved not, spoke not, but with mournful air Her hands were clasped, as though intent on prayer. 130 He turned unto that mourner in distress, Touched by her sorrows and her silent grief^ And offered comfort in her helplessness, Which she declined, as past all man's relief- She pointed to the block and murmur'd low, And then her sobs stole forth in stifled woe. Her face was buried in a flowing veil, And cold as ice drops was her fairy hand, Her arms were like the alabaster pale. And did the Student start, as though a brand Had smote a thrill unto his beating heart : Oh, happy, might he never from her part. And the low wail of bursting grief was there ; She seemed deserted, for no friend was by, To shelter from the storm that ladv fair — Care at her heart and sorrow in her eye — Her dripping garments hung about her form, As a drenched lily in the winter's storm. And as he grasped the cold hand of that maid,, The thunder ever and anon grew loud ; He to remove her sorrows offer made ; Her fragile form beneath a tempest bowed — He offered her his escort to her home. Unto that lady in her grief alone. A moment paused she — and then gracefully She threw her dark and floating veil aside : God ! what features did the Student see ! It was his Peri lost^ — his angel bride ! 131 His dream-remembered, long^sought ladye bright ! The Student started — and with mad delight He threw himself upon his trembling knee ; There was his shrine where he had worshipped- His heart beat wildly with unnatural glee ; With giddy rapture was he onward led, The whilst with kisses he her hand did cover, It was his fairy bride, and he her lover ! Now poured out fast, as bursts a gushing stream, The incoherent ravinsfs of his love — The happy hours thus tasted in his dream, And tender as the warbling of the dove ; He stripped his mantle from his trembling frame, To shield his Peri from the falling rain. And flashed the lightning in one lengthened sheet, Filling the vault of heaven with its light, And the loud thunder rattled down the street, As there the Student clasped his heart's delight ; And he did hear close by him pass, loud peals Of laughter, like the distant sound of wheels ! And then with tender care he led Iier on, To gain the shelter of his lonely home, Aiding her footsteps ever and anon, And mourning; that his fairy bride should roam So far, the terrors of the storm to dare — So desolate, the wolf left not his lair. b2 132 His bride spoke not : and soon with hurried feet They reached the dwelling, and the Student led His lady up the stairs, his home to greet : There comfort plainly o'er his hearth was spread. He barred the door, and then with hasty stamp Roused up the slumbering fire, and trimmed the lamp. And then he wrung the moisture from her weeds^ And threw the logs upon the crackling firCj, 'Till drops of toil stood on his brow like beads. As rose the red flame up the chimney higher: Yet never spoke his bride, though he did place Her Tore the flame, that played upon her face. And pallid with the hue of sorrow's seal Those heavenly features met the Student's eye : Oh ! what conflicting thoughts his heart did feel, As he essayed her storm, drenched clothes to dry ; And round her snowy neck that else was bare^ A necklace of rich jewels fastened were. Her eye retained its sweet expression still ; The glow was gone that mantled on her cheeky Down whose smooth surface trickled sorrow's rill ; Nor would the ladye to her lover speak — The whilst in accents wild and sadly sweety In plaints of love the Student did her greet. '* What ails thee, love — and dost thou know me not ? Oh ! I have looked and thus have pictured thee ; Are all our former pleasures then forgot ? Thou art not fickle as false mortals be ? 18"' o smilest thou not, sweet Peri of my heart ? Oh ! why clid'st ever from thy lover part ? *' Oft have I searched for thee, and look'd above At the bright stars that dot the vaulted sky ; And pictured many a one that held my love, Where thou lay shrined in immortality ; And envied then the pinions of the bird, That I might see thee — and my prayer is heard. '' Thou speak'st not, sweet ! and yet thy hair is wet ; Chill is thy hand that I will chafe in mine ; ! ages have gone by since last we met, And I bewept thy loss in sorrow's brine ; Thou speak'st not ; thy sweet lips do move in pray'r ! A wordless music, voiceless as the air '' Which is thy element — Peri bright, But speak to me once more, — my joy is wild ; A summer s day to me doth seem this night. When last I saw thee then thy blue eyes smiVd, (Here will I w^arm thee in my burning breast ;) But now they seem with mournfulness imprest. " And I have chas'd thee on the wint'ry plain, Upon thy bounding steed fleet as the wind, And sought to hunt thee, love, but all in vain ; Thou left the hurricane in speed behind, ^ And swept o'er sky and sea to India's shore To the spic'd Azores and frozen Labrador ! 134 ^^ By barren Iceland's rocks, to Ganges' stream. To the sunny islands in the ^Egean sea, By the belted Zone, where Phoebus' scorching beam Blackens the Nubian, have I followed thee ! O'er ocean's wave, unto Columbus' cliff, Or the tow'ring heights of peaky Teneriffe ! ** Wilt thou not list to me ? oh, pray thee speak ; My own voice hateful sounds unto my ears ; The bloom of health hath left thy youthful cheek, Speak, then, my Peri — speak and ease my fears ; What shouldst thou fear ? it is thy lover's voice, Bids thee, angel of my soul, rejoice." She spoke not to him, but she sweetly smil'd, And rose and clung to him with fond embrace ; And then she kiss'd him ; and wild joy beguiPd The Student's heart, and shone forth in his face, Tho' left his beauty where she kiss'd, a pang. As tho' some serpent had the Student stang. And round his neck her arm was lightly thrown, While gaz'd he in her mild blue eyes with glee ; A peal of thunder shook his humble home. And flash'd the lightning by his casement free ! Our Saviour's image, fastened on the wall, Shook by the thunder, on the earth did fall ! And by his frighten d ear hush'd laughter rang ; He look'd upon his bride, all danger recking ; And in his ear a voice there clearly sang " Stern death thy bridal bed with woe is decking;; Rise up and flee for holy Jesus' sake ; List not the Syren, — thy way quickly take,'' Bewildered look'd the Student, but his bride Upon the holy cross her feet she set ! And stamped upon it with exulting pride ! Uprose the Student's hair in terror wet ! While she did whisper " Come, sweet love of mine, Crush 'neath thy foot thy Saviour's holy sign !" How leap'd the Student's heart — it was her tongue ! And yet how strange, the first words she had spoken That voice of music to his heart's core rung, — And on the shiver'd fragments crush'd and broken, He set his heel. " Now, hell do all its worst ! For thee, oh, love, my Maker have I curst !" She drew him to her, and her clay cold hand Made his flesh creep, as through his tangled hair Her fingers she did run. At her command, He had abjured his God — that ladye fay re Kiss'd his pale lips, that ne'er were blanched with fear He thought a fiery coal his mouth did sear ! The wasted brands shot forth a dying ray, — Pale in its cruse the sickly lamp did burn ; Yet on the Student's heart a sickness lay ! And to his fairy bride straight did he turn. That face angelic fair, removed his fears — His fairy bride — long wept for many years ! 136 Then to their rest betook the wedded pair. Mated by destiny, and joined by fate, And smiled upon her love the ladye fayre, As he did lead her to her bed of state ! The gloomy corridor the twain past o'er In solemn silence, while a light he bore. They gained their bridal bed, sweet rest betide, — No slumber blest them as in days of yore ; But little slept the scholar, or his bride So sudden lost — so strangely found once more ; Blue vapours play'd around the dying lamp ; The chamber felt as though a charnel damp ! And then wild shapes did flicker thro' the gloom And all around smelt loathsome as the grave ! Strange lights lit up at intervals the room ! They heard without the midnight tempest rave ; E'en to its very base the house did shake ; And whispering voices revelry did make. And broken sobs and wails at times heard he ; And once the Student thought a form he saw ; But no, — 'twas gone, before he might it see. He could not pray, since heaven's precious law He had disgrac'd. His fairy bride now slept. But sobb'd as though she still in sorrow wept. Again that startling shade moved through the room- His mother's features when on earth she lived ! A ray of glory did light up the gloom, The spirit wrung her hands as tho' she griev'd ; 137 Sadly she gaz'd upon her son, and shook Her head in mournfulness, and sorrowed look. And then she vanished in a glimm'ring light, ' The sad tears smirching her chaste matron's brow ; And then the vision faded on his sight ; And o'er his heart in fearful guise and slow, There stole the shadow of some wild alarms, — He turn'd and clasp'd his Peri in his arms. One kiss upon her cheek, one deep drawn kiss, One look upon his Peri's eyes so mild ; One shudder at the thought of past distress, — And like a wayward and a petted child, Sobs into sleep upon its nurse's breast, So did the Student sink into his rest ! But ever and anon he started up, Rack'd by terrific dreams, and hellish sights, A dash of bitterness flow'd in his cup. To check the happiness of love's delights ; At length exhausted nature sank to sleep ; Nor wak'd he till the morning's earliest peep. Soon as the day star faded from the sight, And the loud winds had luU'd into a calm ; With the first ray of morning s rosy light. That brush'd the dew drops from the tow'ring palm, Arose the Student from his bridal bed. With fev'rish dreams his rest was visited. 138 And on his mind there flash'd his fairy bride, Last night's remembrance of his Peri blest ; She that so strangely in his arms had died ! Now slept beside him as a babe at rest ; And from the casement did the morning beam, Dance on the floor in many-chequer'd stream. His bride yet slept, — one arm lay 'neath her head, O'er which her yellow hair lay floating free ; Her cheek was pale, the tint of summer fled. Her brow as fair as Dian's ere might be ; Her lips were bloodless, veil'd her snowy eyes. And tears upon the sleep-clos'd eyelid lies. Like the hoar rime that decks the willow's branch ; Or dewy drops which on young flowers stand, So pale a colour did her features blanch ; The Student, all alarmed, did grasp her hand : 'Twas cold and clammy as the gripe of death ! He bent o'er those sweet lips to catch her breath, — To drink the honey balm which trembled there. As he had done in days — their love was young. He bent to kiss them — cold as death they were, And then despair unto his heart strings clung : But yet he hoped to see those eyelids rise Their snowy curtains, and unveil her eyes, — Within whose orbs a sea of fondness lay. Deep and unutterable ; and the silken fringe Which love had pencilled, mocked the arching ray Which spans the vault of heaven in coloured tinge : 139 Closed, alas ! they lay — so calm and still, As flakes of snow on Alp's untrodden hill. He kist her rosy fingers ; in his breast He sought to warm the chillness of his bride, To wake her, blushing, from her deep, deep rest ; In vain were all the arts the Student tried : And then deep sorrow rose upon his brain, And madness struggled to assert its reign. Oft he had seen her lie bereft of life, When serpent's fangs drew forth her golden blood, Amid the horrors of the tempest's strife, When lay he perishing upon the flood : Yet now she lay so still, and dead to view — He could not bear those thoughts, which maddening grew. But springing from the couch, he rung the bell, And called the sleeping household to his aid ! (Unknowingly he rung his beauty s knell), And there alone with her the Student staid, Nor knew he when the servants to him came. So deep a trance had seized upon his frame. The comers gazed, and marvelled at that sight, To see that ladye fayre lie dead and cold ; The leech was summoned to that maiden bright, But tried in vain — death ne'er forsook his hold : Freezing each art'ry up with chilling trace, Whilst gazed the Student on her pallid face. 140 And then he raved ; and then he did address His bride in accents gentle as the dove's, Kissing her ashy brow ; and then did bless The fond remembrance of their early loves : He held her hand until its icy touch Assured him death had on her fixed his clutch. And then the low mad wail of sorrow rose, And the mad laugh, which knoweth not for why — That holds alike dear friends as well as foes ; And the bright glancing of the tear-fraught eye ; The sudden shudder and the horrid pang. When sorrow tears the heart with reckless fang. " She is not dead !" so thought he, wandering, " Bring but a mirror, and I'll prove the test ; Let but the glass with her sweet breath be dim, And, she surviving, I am doubly blest ; This heart Td coin in drops of blood away, So that in health my Peri might I see." The leech approached, and mournful shook his head : " Nor drachm, nor potion can avail us here ; My skill is for the living, not the dead : It is death's signal which appeareth here." And then the priest, a reverend man, and meek, Sought ghostly comfort in his ear to speak ; And the rich ritual for the dead he spake, And called on Christ to cheer the stricken man ; And at that name the Student seemed to wake, As one who suffered from a fiendish ban : 141 " Name not my Saviour, I have mocked his pain ; My crime is such, good priest, thou canst not sain. " For her who lies so still before me now, I trampled on the cross and holy sign ; For this hath heaven struck my beauty low, And filled with maddening thoughts this brain of mine : She will awake — thus twice Tve seen her lie, With bloodless lip, and death upon her eye. " Upon her sepulchre hope ever rests, Nor time can place his seal upon her tomb ; There angel-spirits are her wedding guests ; Tho' death may strike, my beauty yet shall bloom, And springing from her trance in gladness sing : Death's dart, Time's scythe, shook from her downy wing, " She is immortal, and these mocks of death Are but precursors to blythe days of joy ; Though envious fate awhile may stop her breath, (As happiness is badged with some alloy), Yet, like the phoenix springing from the flames, I yet shall hail her with joy's loud acclaims/' " Oh ! hush thy speech," the reverend father cries^ " My son, take comfort, wail no more in grief, For ne'er again in mortal life she'll rise ; Then seek in Holy Scripture for relief, Nor speak blasphemously. This is thy doom When thou shalt seek the passage to thy tomb !" 142 " Accursed priest ! now loud to me thou liest ; Shall not my heart believe what it has known ? Thy lying creed in vain to me thou criest— Should I weep blood for tears for her who's gone ? I burn unto the brain ; my beauty rise — Shake off death's sleep — it is thy lover cries, " But rise again, and stretch to me thy hand, To give this holy friar loud the lie. And I will place my soul at thy command ; But ope once more thy blue and loving eye, I do conjure thee ; by that trampled sign. By helPs prime agent, and this soul of mine !" As if the dead could hear the Student's prayer, Slow rose the corpse, and sat upon the couch I And ope'd the blue eye of that " ladye fayre,'' As on her love she laid her icy touch ! Then all flew bacl^ and gave a fearful shriek! The priest, with trembling voice and quailing cheek. Told o'er his beads and uttered many a prayer, With pater nosters, while sore shook his hand ; A frightened group around stood trembling there, Tho' all unmoved the Student did he stand, Nor shrank nor blenched, although a thrill of fear Rushed to his heart as though struck with a spear. A moment paused that lady, whom the fiend With sudden life had raised from off the bed ; Towards the Student mournfully she lean'd ; A smile wreath'd round the features of the dead. 143 Ghastly and pallid ! Her cold hand forsook The Student's gripe, whilst did he vacant look, Scar'd by that grim and fiendish smile that play'd Around those lips which he had kiss'd so oft ; And slowly then the figure of that maid, Backward did sink upon the pillow soft ; And the dark smile which o'er her face had spread, Faded to nothing — and there lay the dead ! All freely breath'd as though relieved from spell, And whispering discoursed upon that sight ; The priest did pray for strength 'gainst fiends of hell. And for the soul of that young maiden bright, Hears'd in her beauty, clad in sombre guise ; Such sight so sad ne'er met a mortal's eyes. With look still rivetted, and eye entranced On the pale forehead of his angel bride ; The Student stood, nor forward aught advanced ; But kept his fix'd position by her side. And could she die as one of mortal mould ? His heart lay buried in her breast so cold. That like the frozen aspect of a lake, So coldly fair, so deathlike delicate ; Silent her tongue — which music once did make ;-— Frail beauty ! levelled by the hand of fate ! There lay his glories in her folded up ; Unto the dregs he'd drain'd his bitter cup. 144 And had he found her but to lose her so ? Can this be Death which lies upon her face ? Which prints its finger on that queenly brow^ Nor yet obliterates frail beauty's trace ? Alack ! that Death should strike so fair a thing,— A snow-white dove w^hich folds in Death its wing. A saint reposing on his holy shrine ! A lilly sever'd from its parent earth ! The pure spring frozen in its cavern'd mine ; An infant smitten in its hour of birth, A lamb reposing by its mother's side ; Look'd not more fair than did his angel bride, A blanl^: lay chilling on the mourner s heart, A crushing weight pent heavy in his breast ; A dreamy recollection of the dart That laid his Beauty in her last long rest ; A dreadful stillness o'er his spirit's lay ; It is the calm — the storm will sweep away- He spoke not, moved not, — but his look of woe^ Froze up with horror all who look'd upon ; His long hair floating from his pallid brow ; His heart was bursting ; — yet no sob or groan Betrayed the wasting of life's citadel. What anguish he endured let no man tell. His heart was hollow, withered up, and cold ; He had no ear for those who stood around, As hers — ^which soon beneath the hallowed mould Would sleep ; the clay clod on her bosom bound ; 145 Alack, that desolation e'er should light Upon the forehead of that maiden bright. There was a movement 'mongst the assembled crowd, And in there came the minions of the law ; They had been summon d, for when grief had bowed The wretched one unto his couch of straw. The eye of pity cometh all too late ; The voice of charity stays not stern fate. Close to the bed side strode the officer, A stern gen d'arme, armed to the very teeth ; The scabbard harshly clank'd, as paused he where That maiden lay in death so calm beneath ; And starting, as he twirled his black moustache. That maiden still awhile his heart did dash, More than the charging of a host of foes ; And he demanded in a frightened tone, Whilst to his heart the blood in terror rose, — " Who 'twas had meddled with that maiden lone ; And borne her from the scaffold where the knife Had done its worst, and cut off mortal lifeo" The Student started from his silent trance, A dreadful thought was flashing through his brain ; What magic was there or what necromance ? He grasp'd the soldier's hand his own between, — He would have asked her fate — if that he mought, He could not for the words stuck in his throats K 146 Choked with his passion. — nought the Student said^, But grasped the soldier tightly by the arm ; And pointed earnestly unto the dead, Thus far his courage had withstood the storm. And calm he stood until his very soul Trembled with terror 'neath his stern controuL And knew that soldier what he did demand, As gasped the Student with convulsive throe, — *' The fairest maiden lived not in this land, That might compare with her now laying low ; But yesterday she bloom'd in healthy life. Last eve she fell beneath the fatal knife !" More would he spake, but that the Student spoke Words indistinct, and muttered meanings low — As o'er his brow the drops in terror broke ; Whilst breath'd the priest his prayers faint and low. Then stoop'd the soldier o^er his fairy bride, And with rude grasp the necklace he untied. And as he pluck'd that velvet band away, A ghastly head rolFd heavy on the floor f All blood-begrimed a headless corse there lay. The fair brow spotted thick with specks of gore '^ A dreadful shudder through all present ran, That left their cheeks with fear and terror wan. Thus much the Student says, and then no more, And, groaning with the anguish of his brain. His eyeballs starting, with his soul's racked core, Stern madness, passion did possess his frame : 147 He saw the head of her he loved lie low, Gashed and disfigured by the headsman's blow. With pale lips quivering, and bloodless cheek. He wrung his hands and tore his sable hair ; Then wildly did he into laughter break, The horrid revelry of mad despair *. Stern madness o'er his mind with strong controul Still kept up battle with his fighting soul. His brain was all a fire, where madness lay, A roaring furnace ! and no pitying shower Would the wild fury of the storm allay — " The fiend," he shouted, " hath me in his power ! But to the last his power I defy. My angel bride smile on — her brow doth lie " Soil'd in the dust : her white and snowy neck, The headsman's axe hath gored with bloody gash ; O'er the wild waves there floats pale beauty's wreck," And then all-fearful he his teeth did gnash, tJntil the blood from his pale lips sprung forth. From the heart's fountain, where the stream had birth. And then he raved, " My princess is not dead : Death ne'er could harm her ; months and years may roll. But still her heart with life is visited." And as conviction o'er his senses stole. His wailings sunk to meanings, wild and low, As shuddered he in agonising throe k2 148 " The fiend, the fiend would lay me with the dead ; Dark shade, avaunt ! thou dragg'st me dow^n to hell ; Why should I live ? is not my Peri fled ? Why rings so loud my beauty's burying knell ? One farewell kiss that we in love may part, Oh death, it is thy hand upon my heart/' He looked his last farewell unto the sky^ That now was breaking through the casement clear ; His bride, a headless corse, did silent lie, Death had struck down all that he held most dear : With one wild look the Student dying fell Upon the breast of her he loved so welL And, like a towering cedar, did he droop, Cleft by the woodman's axe ; or falcon wild. Shot by an arrow as in act to swoop : He kissed the headless corse, and ghastly smiled ; Swift o'er his face death's darken d shadow pass'd^, And in one look of woe he breathed his last. Then rush'd the priest unto the fallen maUj And propp'd his dying form upon his knee ; And 'fore his eye, that now grew dim and wan« The holy crucifix aloft held he : And pray'd for mercy, as fast droop d his head;. Until he knew his arms held but the dead. And gradually his bright and starting eye Grew dim and glossy with the films of death ; A shiver of the limbs in agony, And thus the Student yielded up his breath : The rugged oak hatli fallen 'neatli the blow, And the same stroke hath struck the lily low. And some did say, with fear, that severed head Did wreath its mouth into a ghastly smile ; As quick the priest his prayers rapid said. And held aloft his crucifix the while : A fiendish laugh did ring upon the air. And each there cross'd himself, and breathed a prayer, Oh ! never man beheld so sad a sight. That fearful room, that dead and silent pair ; The ghastly features of that maiden bright, That headless corse, with fair neck gashed and bare : The frightened faces of the assembled few, 'Twould frighten boldest hearts such sight to view. t«i^ ^ * ^ ^ * 'Tis over now — my tale of fear is told, Rank grows the grass upon the Student's grave ; His '' ladye fayre" sleeps with him in the mould, Vainly the Winter's wdnd may o'er him rave ; Sorrow nor joy, despair nor racking pain, Shall e'er distress or glad his heart again. The oil is wasted that did feed the light, The strings are riven from the warbling lyre ; His day is set in everlasting night, And Death's cold gripe hath froze a heart of fire ; The worm hath fed upon that maiden's cheek. Upon his angel-bride, so fair and meek. 150 It is a barren place where they are laid, Upon the selfsame clod they rest their head ; Beneath the gloomy yew and cypress shade. That sheds upon their grave its berries red : And the deep sigh o' th' wind doth ring the knell Of the Student and the maid he loved so well. But let that pass — his memory is enshrined Within a heart which dearly loved him well ; His spirit dwelt not in a common rind, And fearful was the doom by which he fell ; And if that sorrow smiled upon his birth. His doom was sad, his love not of this earth. The dew will fall as lightly on his breast As he who past his days in godliness ; Nor, though unholy be his last long rest. Will thought of what he was disturb him less : His final doom rests on his Maker's nod — Live virtuously, nor fear to meet thy God. But see fair Alnwick's Castle frowningly O'er yon fair park in solemn grandeur lowers, Where noble Percy, lord of land and lea. Dwells ducally within yon pile of towers : Upon whose walls grim warriors sculptured stand, Menacing with uprear'd axe and mimic brand. Around thy walls history's voice hath flung A hallowed charm ; for often war's dread roar. With clash of arms, to trumpet note, hath rung Defiance. When black Douglas, with his pow'r. 151 Once storm'd thy ramparts : yonder wall of stone ; For Douglas' bloody gap is daily shewn. Due west, an arrow's flight ; on yonder hill A little pillar doth its head uprear ; Its modest front framed with a mason's skill, Whose simple tablet doth this record bear, That " William,'' Scotia's lion king, his sword Yielded as prisoner to Alnwick's lord. Whilst gazing on thy walls, of thought a mass Rolls through my brain ; in mingled tide I see The heroes of thy line before me pass. Hotspur, that flower of English chivalry, And friend of Mortimer ; whose well-earned fame Sunk 'neath the blaze of Harry Monmouth's name. > Aln's silver stream strays by thy princely towers, Murmuring its way unto the distant sea, Through parks and rugged banks bedeck'd with flowers, Rushing in forced cascade its passage free : O'er whose banks fox-gloves in profusion grow, Where willows bend to kiss the waters' flow. See Howick too ; its turrets well may boast Of excellence ; where dwells the stedfast friend And sire of reform : looking to the coast The dash of waters doth a murmur lend, That harmonises with this quiet scene. When on yon hall the setting sun doth gleam. 152 In Alnwick, see yon relic of a tower. Which fiery Hotspur built, in ruins grey. O'er modern buildings now^ doth sullen lour, And almost barricades the narrow way : A mockery of human power and fame, A heap of ruins chronicles his name. That spot's yet hallowed where the Scottish king Gave up his breath, now marked with rustic cross. And hawthorn blossoms that seem sorrowing The fiery Malcolm's sad and bloody loss : Bend mournfully above the long rank grass, As thoughtless pilgrims by yon king's grave pass. Eight centuries are gone since Hammond's spear. In daring stratagem, laid Malcolm low, Then fled. The Scottish knights, surprised with fear, Stand horror-frozen, or benumbed with woe : And here the dying king they mournful bore Far from the tumult of the vanguard's roar. Say, cannot fancy conjure up that scene ? The Scottish monarch on a couch of straw. Or branches spread ; his son, with mournful mien, Hung o'er his sire, who haply there did draw His laboured breath, in long and heavy sighs. Like one who battles fiercely ere he dies. His eyes are sightless, brow all gash'd and riven, Upturned and bloody in the Summer's morn ; The monk the dying monarch now hath shriven, Silent around is trumpet note or horn ; But tells that distant shout which on them falls, That Malcolm's slayer gains the castle walls. Then gave the king one long and dreadful struggle Of fiery spirit, wrapt in failing clay, Ejected from its mansion by death's juggle, That drove the unwilling spark of life away ; That shout revived the monarch for a while, And blind and dying did he ghastly smile. As half upraised he glared in sightless rage, In the direction of proud Alnwick's towers ; As though unto the last he war would wage, With Mowbray's forces and wild Morkall's powers : Hark ! trumpet-note awakes him from his trance, Where is his eye of fire and eagle glance ? Fell Hammond's spear hath quench'd his eye of light. He springs upon his feet ! where is his sword ? He shouts his war-cry, " Onward to the fight !"" And animates in thought his savage horde : Waves o'er his sightless head his mail-clad hand, As though before his force he gave command. One shout, one war cry wild the monarch gave, The last expiring effort nature lent ; And backward fell — fit tenant for the grave, A dead man ere his form rolled on the bent : The bugle's note sounds forth with wailing sound, While sons and kinsmen kneel with knights around 154 In momentary sorrow. Then the fierce onslaught, As rushed they on the castle, and their foes ; The wild hurrah, the hurried battle fought, Mix'd with the falchion's sweep, loud shrieks and blows : As Scots assail stern Mowbray's castle wall. With cries of vengeance for red Malcolm's fall. Forget we not thy moor ! the merry din, When thy young candidates for freeman's name, Into a dirty pool, in glee rush in, As Saint Mark's day arrives. Oh time of fame ! A penance authorised by regal John, When hunting, floundered he thy pools among. Hulne's silent Abbey, in secluded park. Meets pilgrim's view. Let Meditation there Muse on former times. While Memory's spark Flames into thought. A solemn lonely air Of desolation clings around its stones, Where holy monks interr'd their brethren's bones. For the loud anthem now the modest dove Murmurs at intervals its loving sound ; And scream of eagle pierces through the grove, Where did the hallelujah once resound : A modern villa rises 'mid the wreck Of former glory, which doth ivy deck. In long and floating tendrils freshly green. Like garb of youth upon a wither'd wight, There on June Sundays haply may be seen Alnwick's burghers and their spouses bright, 155 Awhile on pleasure bent, their native homes forsake, And revel here on tea and dainty cake. Come range around — the deer browse on the lea, As did they in the days of Robin Hood, Go, seek yon pillar which doth fearfully Surmount the hill (set in yon shady wood), Built by the Percy for a tall watch tower, Its summit piercing from its leafy bower. Ascending by the long and spiral stair, The summit gained — what vision meets the eye ! Around ; below ; there spreads the prospect fair, Of distant villages that misty lie ; Twelve castles may'st thou see ; the Cheviots lone ! The Fell of Gateshead! Dunse-Law's rugged crown! Far Rimside's heath and misty Simonside, The hills of Ford, and all the line of coast, Which stretches bounding ocean's mighty tide. Till in dim ether is the prospect lost. Like silver flashing, many a lowly stream- Breaks into light beneath the noon-tide beam. I know them all, — my feet their banks have trod In summer days when sky was clear and bright. When freshest green did carpet thymy sod. And all around the sun shed dazzling light ; E'en then I thought upon the present time. When I should sing their beauties in dull rhyme. 156 Dunstanborough — stronghold of the coast In days of yore ; but now it lies forlorn, Its former glories but an empty boast ; Its walls are down ; its massive ramparts torn ; Swept by the ocean's spray it still appears Like hardy age bedecked with Nature's tears. But pause we where from Bamboro's rugged pile, Where once a monarch held his regal court ; Where once did sycophants and courtiers smile Of wealth and royalty the famed resort ; But now fallen in disuse its gloomy walls, And empty courts the pilgrim^s eye appalls. Though heavy ranks of ordnance gaping there. Shew its vast strength as well as former power, Those cannon thundering through the hissing air, Would on the foe their iron missiles shower. Look from its ramparts, and the lowly Fern, Islands and lighthouses you may discern. A cluster of small islands lying low. Washed by strong currents, fatal oft to bark ; On land hath risen widows' wail of woe. For those who 'neath their rocks lie stiff and stark : Witness the FmfarsMre, when did she dash Upon the Longstone rock with hideous crash. Mid storm and darkness did the heroic maid Hear the imploring shriek of shipwreck'd crew, O'er raging waves in fitful gusts convey'd, Raving for help, whilst did the billows strew 157 At each succeeding sweep upon the shore^ Some portion of the wreck in hideous roar. Up from her couch of sleep the maiden sprung^ Listening only what her heart suggests, And for a while unto the casement clung. To note the maddening waves, whose angry crests Career d in fury o'er the parting deck. Whilst clung the passengers to helpless wreck. A moment quaiFd her heart as did she note The mountain billows, surging as in glee, — And thought what danger would their little boat Encounter 'mid that mad and boiling sea. Twas but a moment, for that distant cry Again rang o'er the billows fearfullyo No time for thought. Now hesitates her sire, — " Tis almost death to go, then stay my child, The waves each moment rise in billows higher ; No boat can live amid such breakers wild,'' Again she urges him ; appealing to His heart to rescue yonder shipwrecked crew- Her prayer succeeds ; they launch their little bark ; Though seem the billows to engulph them straight; The day breaks coldly, hazy — all but dark. No longer they for calmer weather wait, But like a sea-bird did the heroic maid. With her brave sire fly yon crew to aid. 158 Her long hair floating 'mid the rushing wind. Her oar the boat through roaring waves impel : Their little home, the Fern is far behind ; The wreck part hidden by the billows' swell. Upon the waves they float ; by foot untrod, With no one near them but Almighty God. They near the parting wreck ; the passengers Are kindly rowed unto yon rugged isle. And landed ; now forgotten all their cares ; And once again their pallid cheeks do smile^ As in yon lighthouse bending o'er the fire They trembling bless yon maid and noble sire. Ye who do cayil at yon maid's reward, — Oh chase such envious sentiments away ; Let not ungenerous thoughts your bosom guard ; But to her courage do you homage pay. A fearful chance she risk'd. If once she quaiFd^ In hand or heart— then had she certain faiFd. Naught cheer'd her on, but noble self-devotion, To risk her life amid those howling waves, Had she been there, perchance the glutting ocean Would ne'er have swept unto untimely graves Thy crew, Pegasm ! Lo ! another wreck The annals of thy islands. Feme ! doth deck. Ye ladies fair, " who dwell at home in ease,'' I pray you breath a silent prayer for her. Nurtured 'mid howling winds and roaring seas^, The lily withers 'mid such stormy air. 159 Life's sand is almost run ; upon her cheek Consumption hangs his flag in hectic streak. Weep all with me ; for hear ye that wild bell Proclaims the heroine hath breathed her last ; The surging sea will mournful ring her knell. 'Tis over now. Life's dream hath from her past. In Bambro's churchyard mid the silent dead, There have they laid the maiden s pallid head. As if that envious fate had jealous grown Of her brave spirit and such noble worth, , Thus nursed in solitude so lately known, When known to stay so shortly on this earth. Brave souls of noble gifts ascend on high, Thus 'tis so many spirits early die. Then farewell, Grace, thou st found an early grave ! Light rest the earth upon thy lowly tomb ! There let sweet lilies o'er thy bosom wave, And freshest roses on thy headstone bloom ; And let Northumbria shed for thee one tear. Embalming thee upon thy early bier. Thou true born daughter of Britannia's isle, Such deed as thine deserves this rugged strain ; May heaven upon fhy spirit gracious smile ; — No more thou'lt brave the wind, or breast the main, And art thou gone ? Too early sets thy sun ; Thou'st died indeed when is the victory won. 160 '' Will fortune never come with both hands full ? Either she giveth stomach or no food ; Or else the food, and then the stomach dull," So Shakspeare writes ; — with thee this line's made good. Just as she gained enough to sweeten life, Existence thread was severed by Fate's knife. Thou ocean heroine, a long farewell ! Some months ago I saw thee — and thy cheek Look'd pale. I did not think thy mournful knell So soon would tell the passing of thy meek And gentle spirit. Farewell ! maid of the sea — And these poor lines unworthy ep'taph be. Lindisfarne's rude strand and ruin'd pile Next claim attention from its long low strip Of land. Upon the ocean does it smile. For Cuthbert's holy bones have hallowed it. Mysteriously conveyed o'er earth's wide face, In Durham's fane the Saint found resting place. Durham ! resort of youths, who in its college Consume the day, but few the midnight oil In vain pursuit of lore — which some call knowledge y Others eschew idea of bookish toil ; And through the long night game with wild uproar. Wrenching the ready knocker from the door. Or else the light from gas lamp quick put out, The frighting of staid Burghers in their beds ; The hapless watch assailed with joyous shout ; Reel home at daybreak with sore aching heads — ^ 161 The future heroes of the Church and Bar ; Perchance the Woolsack— such thy students are. Thy grand cathedral (tomb of Saint Bede's bones), How doth thy huge dimensions awe the sight ; A wilderness of arches, pillars, domes, With grotesque masks of dwarf or afrit sprite On gorbels carved. Thy rich and gorgeous shrine. Where doth thy Saint in posture low recline. He who does listen when thy organ's swell Takes prisoner the ear with sweet delight : The pleasing tracery on groin and aisle, The painted windows shedding floods of light, Of mingled colours rich in rainbow hues, Glitt'ring like drops of pearls, or diamond dews. When the loud organ peals upon the ear, The mind soars upward in Elysium dress'd ; So softly fall those notes, now sad, then clear, And then again with melancholy impressed. Who would existence of a God dispute, List to that strain, and then his creed confute. Durham ! sweet seats within thy shire dwell ; See Lambton Castle in proud majesty.^ ^ Part hid in trees on yonder grassy swell, With all its towers tall, overwhelm the eye. It's owner but a youth ; for envious Death Hath robb'd the noble Durham of his breathe L 162 Whatever his politics let faction pause, And not disturb the statesman's last long sleep ; We think what now he is — not what he was ; And even men o'er fall'n foes may weep. The grave is as a place which thrusts away All state and faction. All is common clay. See Ravensworth ! that like a gay bridegroom, Firmly and freshly stands with sweet parterre ; Its towers, flanking keep, and high donjon ; Rich walks, and long and noble alleys clear. There doth the gen'rous Liddell hold his court ; Of wit and elegance the famed resort. His lady fair, as free, as nobly born. See Prudhoe Castle crumbling to decay ; (Prudhoe the Percy's brother) old and worn, — It's weed hung battlements loom o'er the way ; Old walls dismantled fam'd in " auld lang syne" Frown gloomily o'er waves of coaly Tyne. Thence on to Gilsland Wells — Northumbria's " Bath,'' A northern '' Cheltenham"" on little scale, Where invalid's seek health, — whose epitaph Speaks lying praise ; whilst dwelt they in this vale Of woe and tears ! — whose heirs with wealth content. Raise to their mem'ry lying monument. Here purse proud citizens resort, to cure The oe'rfed sickness. Turtle-soup and wane ! For thee their flesh such racking pains endure ; Old age, sick youth, consumption, deep decline. 163 All crowd thy fane ; and wait with patience fair, Their morning's draught of mineral water rare. Corbridge, the ancient Roman — I forget Her name, when Hadrian's legions pitch'd their tent ; No scholar I, o'er learned names to fret, But antiquarian for my own content : Corbridge, at least an ancient Roman station, Once the strong fortress of a mighty nation. Each day the plough turns up in holy places, Fragments of buildings, altars, helmets, stones ; Roman armour, rings, old coins and vases. Containing withered dust of mighty bones ; Belonging haply to some son of fame. Forgotten now, not even worth a name, And such is glory — Alexander's dust No better shews than does the Spartan's slave ; With age the ploughshare bears as deep a rust As doth the falchion — so 'tis with the grave : The man of saintly life in shroud must rot, No better than the convict now forgot. See Stagshaw bank, famed mart for northern kine, For Highland drovers, hinds, and Yorkshire tykes ; In days of youth, 'twas once strange lot of mine. To be a witness to thy buyers' freaks ; The roar of voices — oaths and rugged words, From drunken wight strange theme for joy affords, l2 164 The tricks of coupers, jockeys, when they sell A spavined horse, and take each other in ; Swear all is sound ; famed pedigree they tell, Disguising broken wind and halting limb : Forth from the crowd the careful groom trots out, The horse, urged on with whip and startling shout. The yelp of curs, and crowds of cattle there, The sudden break of heifer from its drove ; With all the din and bustle of a fair. Pigs " running mucks," to gain the distant grove. Night falls — there did I once sans bedding lay, On Stagshaw's grass, until the break of day. Now on to Hexham. Silent town — all still, Like the city of departed dead, As told in Arab's tales ; so gaze thy fill Upon yon abbey that doth lift its head, Scorched by the flames : Oh shame to holy shades I A slaughter-house thy ancient aisle degrades. Pause on yon rising hill Upon that spot The might of England met in adverse bands ; Yon field of blood will never be forgot, While lonely Hexham's ancient abbey stands : High-minded Margaret, Henry's warlike bride, Here one more venture for his kingdom tried» Hexham, for gloves and beds of onions famed, Pursue we now the course of narrowing Tyne, Whose stream to swell, the lesser rills are drained. Dwindled almost to a silver line ; 165 Now north and south its parting streams diverge, A farewell whispering in murmuring dirge. And bubbling from a small mound, doth a spring Of clearest water trickle down its side ; And here and there its crystal torrents fling, Until it swells to Tyne's broad, rapid tide • That river's source, whence flowing rapidly, Augmenting as it glides to kiss the sea. Dilston, whose aged walls seemed stained with blood, Of Derwentwater's young and gallant chief ; Who bold in Stuart's cause unflinching stood. On earth, alas ! thy life's career was brief, But glorious, like flashing meteor bright. That for a time illumes the vault of night. Then sinks in utter darkness, never more Its fires to flash along the vaulted sky ; Deserted, lonely ; may we wander o'er Thy house and gardens, musing silently : Dilston, thy silence sympathy may claim. For Ratcliffe's blood hath given to thee fame. Sail we on Tyne to Newburn's simple ford, Where civil war first struck the foremost blow. In Charles' reign, who sought, by dint of sword, To lay the people's darling charter low. " Canny Newcastle," art thou theme of mine. Where thy old walls peep over coaly Tyne. 166 Northumbria s city, there thy spires arise, 'Mid smoke perpetual hanging over head ; Saint Nich'las' tower pierces to the skies, Its lanthorn, like a crown on monarch's head : Antique houses yet will make you smile, Built in the ancient Elizabethian style. A populous town of houses, modern streets, Of new improvements, on extended scale ; Arcade and market there the stranger greets, With rows of princely shops Avith goods for sale : Their streets laid out arrests the passer's eye, With southern cities may Newcastle vie. See, by the river's black and sooty side, (There industry indeed hath fixed her seat ;) Forests of masts rock on the rolling tide, Chimneys and glass-houses the thick air heat ; Works of vitriol, soap, and foundries, all Belch from their throats a black and smoky pall. Which hangs m circling eddies o'er the town, My sire's birthplace, but no place of mine ; Although I claim no village of renown, Yet am I foster-son of coaly Tyne ; Far in the south, in Hampshire's pleasant shire, I drew my breath, if I believe my sire. Thy booksellers, Newcastle, let me not Pass by those bibliopolists, without. For their sweet kindness, giving one small shot ; For they are courteous ! very kind of speech, no doubt ! 167 When did I ask them for their sage advice, They shunned me like a beggar, in a trice ! As if I brought the plague into their shops ; These drones suck honey from such fools as I ; We sow the seed that they may reap the crops, Faith I'll take care from me that none they buy. Let nothing lordly spurn its low compeer ; We all need help sometime throughout the year. And London too, no wiser are thy fools, Who barter Shakespere o'er a counters span ; Milton and Spencer, sold by shopmen's rules, Byron and Scott ! Oh powers of earth ! and man — Are works of genius thus so vilely sold ? And haggled with for niggard coins of gold ? Let it all go — I now disgorge my gall, 'Tis all I can do, and 'tis harmless quite ; As soft as May-dew virtuous blessings fall, For oft my bark is '' waur ' than is my bite : Proud publishers of rhyme, henceforth be meek, When lowly bards your sage experience seek. Let us remember, then, thy famed resorts,— Jesmond — the northern " Vauxhall'' — where thy fair Are squired to on Sundays. No lewd sports Profane the day ; but tea in China s ware, With cakes are serv'd in arbours closely placed, With beer or gin, according to their taste. 168 On that same road is Lambert's fearful leap, Where did his horse with eye and teeth firm set, Speed to the bridge which arches yonder steep, And madly did he leap the parapet. The steed was killed — the man survived the fall ; His name and leap still cut upon yon wall. Is not Northumbria rich in mines of wealth ? No gold, or copper, silver, — doth she own ; Her miners — rugged sons of boistVous health, Ply the brisk pick until the coal be won ; Winter s comforter — which causeth cricket's mirth ; Gladdener of Christmas : lamp of household hearth. Chief feeder of the fire, which generates From sister element, the mighty steam, From whence the smoke which daily congregates O'er factories, in streets, or by the stream ; Whence manufactories do owe their breath ; The fire-damp from thee brings miner's death. Heart of machinery, that keeps in motion The iron pulse, the untiring nerve of steel. To drive our Mammoth steamers o'er the ocean ; Or force in dizzy whirls the rapid wheel. All own thy power, and thy furnace force ; Steam, strength, and speed, all owe to thee their source. Dark substance, dug from foulest caves of night, Remains of forests, long before the flood. From whence springs forth that dazzling blaze of light Hluminating streets for many a rood — 169 Gas — the bude light — others we might mention Without thee — ne'er had sprung from man s invention. Coal is my theme — most unpoetical ; Black diamond merchants crowd my muse around ! From banks of Wear to Hadrian's ruin'd wall, Your staple produce will I loudly sound. What, God of Heaven ! shall my muse invoke, To bid me laud with praise the source of smoke ? Newcastle Races come ! hurrah for mirth. See beer tents, camps, all spread in goodly rows ; And happy feet now tread o'erburthen'd earth ; Stools, stalls, and booths ! — and see ! the sights and shows, Where plays ten minutes long delight the eye. And motley pantomimes pass rapidly. The race bell rings ! the rush terrific grows ! The shriek and struggle now for post and line, — Far as the eye can reach, are motley rows ; Whilst keelmen rail in language of old Tyne ! '' Geordy !" " pit-sark !'' " smash ye !'' shower'd like hail. With other " morceaus" rare the ears regale. The start is given ! off the coursers fly ! Their jockeys' colours fluttering in the wind ; Hark to the hum ! now stifled — low — now high ; The " fav'rite" for the cup is left behind ! Now like a hurricane the steeds sweep by ! Yon bound hath won " Beeswing" the victory ! 170 Her backers cheer ! — the losers in a rage. Swear evil fortune on fleet '' Beeswing" mare ; Pride of the north ! they bet their fortnight's wage Upon her speed, with wild and careless air. Her master — Lord of Nunnykirk, has gone To that vile dust, from whence we first sprung from ! " Lanercost" and " Beeswing/' names known well, Frequent as household words in pitmen's mouths ; Rivalling each other's fame, they bear the bell. As throng their partizans from north and south. Equal with cocks and dogs, these racers gay Swallow thy sooty children's gold away. But wealth and fashion at the stands prevail ! See ! rows of ladies, each of high degree — An ocean, now, of pearls, of braids and veil, Attended by Northumbria's chivalry. The fair patricians of the north appear To see the races — wonder of a year. The " keel-row" melody ne'er fails to fill Northumbria's sons with pleasure — rivalling The " Rans de vasche," which Switzers' hearts do thrill With thoughts of home, 'mid the infernal din Of races, theatres, or election riot, That tune but rarely fails to make them quiet. And I have travelled almost England o'er ; Its sister kingdoms — ne'er did I behold Such love for local tune or ballad lore, As what Northumbria thy sons unfold, — 171 Newcastle's " Marselloise" and pitman s praise Thrice hallowed tune of keelman roundelays. I grieve that where the Nuns did dwell of old. They have destroyed that antique dwelling place ; With sacriligious hand yon dwelling sold. Where Charles once lodged ; fled now is ev'ry trace; Now modern shops and streets are o'er it spread, But " fools rush in where angels fear to tread.'' So true it is that ignorance assails, What reverend sense so jealously would guard. Proceed we now adown Tyne's winding vales, Whilst quays and coal staiths meet we ev'ry yard ; Dent's Hole, Bill Point, and Walker, heaves in sight ; Oh, names most villainous for me to write. And in yon slake the murd'rer's gibbet stood Surrounded at high tide by dashing waves ; For here the sea pours in her emerald flood ; The mighty ocean here the channel laves. See houses, chimneys, ship masts all are crost, And in one wild confusion blent and lost. Shields — with her buildings line the river's side Both north and south. No beauty is there here. The Tyne's deep stream rolls seaward deep and wide ; Ships of all nations in close ranks appear : And look like racers, scorning bit and check, Seems it impossible that e'er a wreck 172 Yon gallant barks should in the tempest's spite, Float with torn planks upon the billowy wave ; Or founder mid the black and dreadful night, When shrieking sailors meet a watery grave. And yet, 'tis so — in port each ship now rides, Whilst gurgling waters kiss their rocking sides. Now o'er the bar our vessel steady goes, Where Neptune doth assert 'tis his domain. Sea-sickness — worst of luckless mortals' woes, — Earth doth not hold a med'cine for thy pain. I've known it in my youth upon the sea ; Rough waves, stiff breeze, and shore upon our lea. That listless feeling o'er your weary frame. Fell nausea's pangs — no rest for aching head ; The vessel's lurch but adds unto your pain ; But see ! the shore before our view is spread ! Look on the ocean — ^hoist the flapping sail, There's health and freshness in the rushing gale. See Sunderland ! — with lighthouse, port, and dock. Invites the laboured bark to quit the seas. And in her harbour safely may she rock. Nor fear the whitening wave and howling breeze. Yon hanging bridge thrown o'er from steep to steep, Where Smith the diver took his perilous leap. Northward we steer,— lo ! Marsden's aged rock, In solitary grandeur rears its head ; As parted from the land by earthquake's shock ; Its crest by sea-fowls thickly visited ; 173 it's arch by nature formed — when moonlight gleams In smnmer night upon old ocean's streams. There fancy conjures up nymphs of the waves — ^ Daughters of sea-born Oceanides, As Glaucus wooed — when dwelt he in the caves Of waters and of coral palaces ; Where samphire and sea-flowers waving fair, Pillow the brows of the drown'd mariner. Marsden ! — resort of youths and maidens gay — Here Shields her sickly artizans may send, To breathe the sea breeze stealing o'er the bay ; From fam'd Newcastle troops of tradesmen wend, And free from smoke their Sabbath air inhale, Braving the freshness of the northern gale. The poor man's draught of heaven's blessed air. Old Marsden do they on each holiday Resort unto thy caves. The adventurous fair, On ladder frail ascends thy sides worn grey With Time's rough breath, whilst fierce and lashing waves Wears all thy coast in creeks and pretty caves. Tynemouth ! — with tiny bay — where invalids Woo the embraces of the saline wave ; Or well wrapt up, along thy promenades The keen north wind or coming shower brave. How oft have I, with brother dear essayed. To swim thy waves, or else thy creek to wade. 174 Ah me ! I grow now old ; far as I look Backward adown the wild abysm of time, And notice forms Death from this earth hath strook In different ages, — childhood, youth, and prime Of life. We are not proof 'gainst coming death, For kings, as well as beggars, quit their breath. Look at von ruined fane — wouldst thou believe, That e'er it rose in pride of pomp or power. That kings unto those shatter'd w^alls could leave Rich abbey lands or noble's princely dower, A dying gift to shrive their souls from sin. With dirge and mass, sweet psalm or hallo w'd hymn ? Vain sophistry, as if the voice of man Could save his fello\v worm from judgment doom ; Look at yon massive walls, in breadth a span ! Within whose thickness is there concealed room. Where all unseen might prying abbot glide. And note the monks at morn or even tide. If we believe the page of former days, A king within yon ruin'd pile was laid ; And yet Time him no better deference pays Than to a beggar's tomb in pity made. The soldier s uniform in war's array. Usurps the cope and stole and gown of grey. The cannon, bomb, and bayonet, sword, and lance, Usurp the altar, candle, book, and bell, The trump, and stirring drum might from their trance Awake the monks who sleep in narrow cell. 175 The sentiners brief watchword meets the ear, Where once the hallelujah sounded clear. Oft have I roam'd amid the darkling night, Within yon barrack -yard in musing mood, And watch'd the lighthouse oscillating light Fling its radiance o'er the heaving flood ; Whilst haply, music from the soldier's band Echoed harmoniouslv o'er sea and land. e Mix'd with the dash of billows on the shore, Whilst sung the wind sharp treble to the strain ; And then, perchance some cannon's op'ning roar Lent its loud summons o'er the sounding main. All these combin'd, with silent hour of night, Have form'd a cheerful and a pleasing sight. It has its ballads, too. One evening lone, I heard a maiden thus her doom bewail. Whilst did the ruins to the tempest groan. And rock'd the lighthouse in the rushing gale, Like restless spirit of the storm she sung. Whilst Tynemouth's Abbey to her stanzas rung : BALLAD— THE NORTHERN STAR.^ The Northern Star sailed o'er the bar, Bound for the Baltic sea ; In the morning s grey she stretched away, 'Twas a weary time for me. • The first verse of this ballad is not ray own— 1 would it were. I first ob- served it in a penny ballad ; I have forgotten the rest, and never could fall in with the lyric. The rest of the ballad is my own, but far inferior both in spirit and pathos to the original. 176 And many an hour in sleet and shower^ By the lighthouse rock I stray ; And watch till dark for the winged bark Of him that's far away. In rain, in sleet, in cold and heat, I've paced that spot of earth ; Or when the stormy petrel pipes, And the long waves roared in mirth. In the evening's light, in the moonshine bright,? When the wind lay in the west i A shadowy form rode on the storm, And thus my ears addrest :— The sun went down in Berwick bay, Down in the sea went he ; And shifting sands and flinty rocks Lay frowning on our lea. The thunder-cloud hung in the sky, The sea was white with foam ; Before the night, the lightning bright Did bring the tempest home. What mortal aid in such a sea, What men in such a storm, Could keep the ship from rocks a-lee. When all her sides were torn ? Oh ! weep thou mourner then no more, Thy span of grief to dree ; In vain thou weeps, thy lover sleeps In the depths of the stormy sea. And now, farewell, my readers, we must part ; If I have but a moment pleasured you. Relieved the time's dull flight, or sorrow's smart. Then I'm rewarded, — so a long adieu : If think you fit, give this my book a name, For on it build I hopes of future fame. 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