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 HOLLLNfrSUORIHS 
 
 POETICAL 
 WORKS. 
 
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 OF THE LATE 
 
 ALFRED JOHNSTONE HOLLINGSWORTH, 
 
 WITH HIS MEMOIRS. 
 
Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of tliis book is in 
 tlie Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924013483460 
 
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2C;i)e ^poetical WioxU 
 
 OF THE LATE 
 
 Alfred Johnstone HoUingsworth 
 
 Memoirs of the Author. 
 
 EDITED BY 
 
 DR. GEORGE SEXTON, F.R.G.S., 
 
 &c. &c. &c. 
 
 SECOND EDITION. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 Hontion t 
 
 C. J. SKEET, 10, KING WILLIAM STREET, 
 CHARING CEOSS. 
 
 1858. 
 
 IThe Right of Translation it Reserved.] 
 
PREFACE 
 
 TO THE SECOND EDITION. 
 
 The First Edition of the followiBg Poem was 
 published two years ago. Up to that period, the 
 name of Hollingsworth was entirely unknown 
 amongst English Poets. When "Childe Erconwold" 
 first appeared, it received most favourable notices 
 from some of the leading critics of the age, and 
 since that time the popularity of its Author has 
 been daily increasing. Had he lived a few years 
 longer, there can be little doubt he would have 
 attained a rank equal to some of the most illus- 
 trious of those upon whom the mantle of poetry 
 has fallen in our island home. That he may do 
 so even now is by no means improbable, as many 
 of his productions still remain unpublished. 
 
 True, this is an age in which the ranting-wordy 
 spasmodics and the " washy lakers " are much in 
 favour, but in spite of this there remains still 
 in the English heart, a deep love for that sound 
 
2 
 substantial old Saxon which has made English 
 Literature so famous and so immortal. 
 
 HoLLiNGSWORTH had an intense love for that 
 grand and expressive language, Anglo-Saxon, now 
 so much neglected for the barbarous jargon — semi- 
 Latin cum French — which prevails so extensively 
 in our literature. He was probably — though during 
 his life time few were aware of the fact — one of 
 the best Anglo-Saxon scholars of his day. Amongst 
 his manuscripts there are translations of modern 
 authors into that noble tongue, done in a manner 
 which few have equalled — ^none surpassed. His 
 taste in this respect has considerably, influenced his 
 poetry as will appear obvious on examining "Childe 
 Erconwold." 
 
 A long introduction, however, in the form of a 
 preface, is by no means necessary. The Poem 
 wiU speak for itself. 
 
 GEORGE SEXTON, 
 
 London, May \st, 1858. 
 
"^'^^IJ^^Jll'^ 
 
 OF 
 
 Alfred Johnftone Hollingfworth 
 
 WRITTEN BY HIS TUTOR, 
 THE REV. , OF , NEAR LIVERPOOL. 
 
 AA/ HILE reading The Times of the 15th December, 1853, 
 I obferved the following advertifement : — 
 
 HE RELATIVES of ALFRED JOHNSTONE 
 
 HOLLINGS WORTH, who retained from Deumaik last April, 
 uve requested to COMMUNICATE with Mr. Edward Melladew, 34, 
 Great Tower-street, City. 
 
 Though the perfon named here was no relative of mine, 
 yet he had been to me as dear as any of my fons ; and was 
 flill remembered with a kind of parental affeflion. That 
 the intereft I had in him and the above advertifement may be 
 fully underftood, I will endeavour to give a fketch of his 
 career. 
 
 A. J. Hollingfworth was born near London about the year 
 l8i8. His mother, whom I have known almofl all my life. 
 
vi :P[£motr£i. 
 
 is a lady of high refpedtability. Her infant was left to the 
 care of an aged widow — a nurfe, whofe hufband's name was 
 Hollingfworth. The child was called after her and her family, 
 and treated as her own. 
 
 In 1828, when the boy was about ten years of age, he 
 was placed under my guardianfliip by her who was mofl: 
 interefted in his welfare. She requefled that he fhould receive 
 the beft claffical education; and be treated as one of my own 
 family circle. I made a facred vow that I would never 
 divulge her name to him or to any other. It is for this reafon 
 that mine too muft appear a blank in this publication. As 
 I am fo well acqainted with her and her family, my being 
 known might end in making them fo. It is, moreover, my 
 intention not to let this public literary occupation interfere 
 with my clerical flation. I hope that this confeflion will 
 fuffice to fatisfy all curiofity on this, — the mofl: unpleafant 
 part of my undertaking. 
 
 The boy foon difplayed great natural ability, and quicknefs 
 in learning ; going through his grammars with extraordinary 
 facility. He had an excellent memory ; and was very fond 
 of reading. He began to write poetry when he was about 
 fifteen years of age ; and, as it feems, continued ever after- 
 wards to do fo. I was afraid that his conftitution might fuffer 
 from his fl:udies, and was frequently obliged to damp his 
 
JMtmoti'S. vii 
 
 ardour. I was then engaged with the ftudy of the Anglo- 
 Saxon tongue : in which he received feme inftructions. 
 Perhaps, his early knowledge of this language gave him that 
 tafte for Northern Antiquities, which he afterwards fo 
 diligently cultivated. 
 
 The boy thus grew up into a young man. He was even 
 then, in his youth, eccentric ; for he fhunned the rough fports 
 in which generally thofe of his years delight ; and preferred 
 ftudy or wandering alone to any gymnaftic exercife. He 
 becamej in mind and habits, a man before he had been a boy. 
 His adopted aged parent had probably ftamped the child with 
 her own antiquity : the old nurfe was ftill lurking in him ; 
 and fwayed, perhaps, more or lefs, his whole exiftence. 
 Much, too, was owing to his naturally weak conftitution : 
 his cheft was delicate ; his ftature, tall and thin, inclined to 
 ftoop. He was eafily provoked, and very paflionate ; had a 
 tender afFeftionate heart, but a proud independent fpirit : 
 which fufFered no reftraint, and rebelled the more it was 
 chaftifed. I was, for many reafons, more indulgent to him 
 than I would have been to others. 
 
 It was decided, that he fliould enter Cambridge when he 
 was fufficiently advanced ; but he had a horror of college 
 regulations, and of all fyftematical ftudy : though what he 
 once did undertake, he toiled, excluding all other objeds, to 
 
viii IMtmotVii. 
 
 accomplifli. His going to Cambridge was, therefore, poft- 
 poned ; and poftponed till at laft, through what fubfequently 
 occurred, it never happened. 
 
 He muft have always had a lively recolleftion of his aged 
 nurfe — his adopted mother ; and would, doubtlefs, often 
 wonder at the fudden tranfition from her humble ftation to 
 that in which he was now placed. He had been taught to 
 believe that his father died when he was an infant ; that, at 
 his mother's (the nurfe's) death, a rich uncle in London had 
 placed him under my care ; paying his bills, and furnifhing 
 him with all that he required. But the world foon learns, 
 and is always ready, to reproach thefe unfortunate people. 
 His queftions, as he grew older and more fufpicious, were of 
 a ferious charafler ; — What were his profpeSfs? Why could 
 he not v'tfit his uncle ? What was his profejfton ? — I endea- 
 voured to fatisfy my pupil by faying, that he was well pro- 
 vided for ; and would be comfortably independent. But the 
 queftions occurred again and again ; and I was, at laft, obliged 
 to evade them, or to refufe an anfwer. 
 
 In 1838, he, being about twenty years of age, met a young 
 lady at my houfe. She frequently vifited my wife. She was 
 of a highly refpeftable family that attended my church : 
 where he, doubtlefs, often had obferved her. They became 
 fondly attached to each other. His ardent aff"e£tion changed 
 
jHflcmoti'ti. ix 
 
 his whole charadter and career. He cared lefs about his 
 ftudies ; and requefted me to introduce him to her parents 
 that he might afk their confent to marry her. I remonftrated 
 with him, telling him that he was too young for fuch an impor- 
 tant ftep ; and that he fhould firft travel a little. He became 
 angry, went, and gained an introdudlion through others. I 
 then fecretly wrote to his mother. She begged me not to 
 thwart him. He afked the confent of the young lady's 
 parents. They applied to me for references to his family : 
 which I could not give them. My negative anfwers caufed 
 them to fufpecft all ; when they, highly indignant at my not 
 having prevented hirri from fpeaking to their daughter, left 
 my houfe and, foon afterwards, my church. Thus ended my 
 friendfliip with them. It would be the moji difficult thing in 
 this world to keep young people from looking at each other. 
 The lady's parents went, and anfwered my pupil very roughly ; 
 uncharitably telling him openly what he was, and ordering 
 him to leave their houfe for ever. He, enraged at them, 
 came to me ; and furioufly commanded me to tell him who, 
 and where, his parents were ; accufing me of all his misfor- 
 tunes, — of being in a plot which was formed to defraud and 
 ruin him. Here I too became angry, and refolutely refufed 
 to anfwer his command. He threatened defperate things. I 
 wrote to London, requefting his mother to releafe me of my 
 
charge. She begged me to bear with him. He would go, 
 he faid, to London and find his parents. I defied him to do 
 fo. He fhut himfelf up in his room, regarding all as his 
 enemies, and acSing as one would that was afraid of being 
 poifoned. At laft, he requefted me to beg his " uncle" (as 
 he fneeringly called his parent) to advance a fum of money 
 which would enable him to travel for five years. This was 
 a wild propofal ; but as we could not exift together, I was 
 as wifliful as he was to further it ; and made it to his mother. 
 After much unpleafant correfpondence, a fum was advanced. 
 He received it ; and left my houfe; faying that, when it was 
 expended, he fhould come again. He remained in the neigh- 
 bourhood fome weeks, lodging at a cottage near the young 
 lady's home; but finally departed for London. This was in 
 1839. Such was his thankleft return for ten years paternal 
 kindnefs ! 
 
 In 1844, he re-appeared. He informed me that he had 
 been travelling through France; and had ftudied at fome 
 German univerfity. He was more affable, or tried to be fo, 
 than he ever had been ; and begged me to forget all that had 
 tranfpired. We were, indeed, glad to meet again; but his 
 principal objeft was to procure more money. He remained 
 at my houfe until he had received the defired remittance. I 
 gave him my belt advice; and begged him to ftudy for fome 
 
profeffion. We parted friendly, wifhing each other all hap- 
 pinefs. I was in conftant correfpondence with his mother : 
 who was often fecretly informed of his movements. 
 
 Years paffed away. In 1849, ^^ came again. He had 
 been in Spain, Portugal, and other countries fince his laft 
 vifit. I ftrongly advifed him to turn his knowledge and 
 abihty to fome account: he came not for advice but for 
 money. He received another remittance ; and departed. 
 
 In 1853, he re-appeared; received his ufual remittance, 
 and left. 
 
 I have defcribed Mr. HoUingfworth as he was when a 
 youth : as this was our laft meeting, I may here defcribe him 
 as he then appeared. He feemed to have loft all youthful- 
 nefs : he had become a pale forrowful-looking man ; was 
 meager, above the middle ftature, having a flight ftoop ; was 
 of a dark — not fallow — complexion ; his forehead was high, 
 but fomewhat wrinkled ; his nofe, prominent, inclined to the 
 Roman ; his eye, jet, large, and expreflive. He fhaved off 
 all appearance of whifkers. There was about his face an 
 old-faftiionednefs (if I may fo exprefs myfelf) which, not- 
 withftanding his fine black hair and beardlefs chin, caufed 
 him to look ten years older than he was. At firft fight, one 
 was apt to take him for a man of forty who fliaved his 
 
 cheeks and wore a wig vainly to appear youthful again. His 
 
 b 2 
 
xii iiHtmotrg. 
 
 general appearance was that of a man who had grown old 
 before his time ; — of one whofe body was always on the rack 
 of his mind. He wore then a dark furtout, dark pantaloons, 
 black velvet waiftcoat, and black neckhandkerchief careleflly 
 knotted : unadorned with rings or jewellery of any kind. 
 
 I heard nothing of Mr. Hollingfworth before the 15th De- 
 cember, 1853 • when reading The Times of that day, I 
 noticed the advertifement already quoted. I proceeded to 
 London on the following morning ; but was informed there 
 that Mr. Edward Melladew was at Birkenhead. I procured his 
 addrefs, and haftened to Birkenhead : where he made to me 
 a mofl: diflrefling communication. I begged him, fome time 
 after our interview, to convey to paper all that he remem- 
 bered of Mr. Hollingfworth. To avoid repetition, I fhall at 
 once lay Mr. Edward Melladew's ftatement before the 
 reader. It is the following : — 
 
 Birkenhead, January 10, 1854. 
 
 " The Rev. , at , near Liverpool. 
 
 " Dear Sir, 
 
 " You wifti me to give you an account of my meet- 
 ing with Mr. Hollingfworth, and I will attempt to do fo ; 
 but I cannot remember much. I was fent on bufmefs in 
 the autumn of 1850 by a London firm for which I travel, to 
 
iMemoug. xiii 
 
 Denmark and Sweden. I left London by the fteamer 
 "John Bull" for Hamburg; and travelled from Hamburg 
 to Lubeck by diligence ; and then left there by the fteamer 
 " Svithjod" for Stockholm. As I had finiflied my bufmefs at 
 Stockholm, I failed to Wifby on the ifland of Gothland. I 
 was told at the inn there that a countryman of mine of the 
 name of HoUingfworth was in the town. As I had com- 
 pleted my bufinefs there, I went on board the fteamer to 
 return to Stockholm. An Englifliman was in the boat; for 
 I foon faw that he was an Englifliman ; and fuppofed, he 
 was the one I had heard of. We got acquainted on the 
 voyage, and went to the fame hotel in Stockholm. I remem- 
 ber, Mr. HoUingfworth did nothing there but read and write : 
 he feemed to be at home in every ftrange place ; and never 
 cared about feeing remarkable places; for, he faid, he had 
 feen them all; but what he liked moft was to lie in his 
 dreffing-gown on the fofa, reading, and fmoking his German 
 pipe, and drinking black cofFee : he feemed to be quite tired 
 of travelling. I remember, the cholera was in Sweden then ; 
 it had not broken out in Stockholm, but it was expeded : 
 nothing elfe was talked of, and the whole country was bufy 
 ,with nothing but cholera; the foolifli quarantine regulations 
 obliged me to give up my journey to Gothenburg, and all 
 my plans in Sweden. I confequently left Stockholm for 
 
xiv iMtmoivg. 
 
 Denmark with Mr. Hollingfworth ; and we pafled through 
 Yftadt and came to Malmo, where we failed from in a fmall 
 floop for Copenhagen; but had to go with two other paiTen- 
 gers to Klampenborg, a few miles from Copenhagen, to per- 
 form quarantine. I remember, that place was like a park ; 
 and we were brought into a fmall cottage there, which was 
 like a lodge or gamekeeper's houfe ; with a fmall fpace of 
 ground for exercife, railed off. A fentinel flood there at the 
 gate, where a bell was rung when anything was ordered ; 
 and the provifions were puflied through a kind of trough. 
 I remember that place and what happened there better than 
 all the reft of my journey; for I was ten days there. We 
 were all fellow-prifoners, and eafily acquainted ; Mr. Hol- 
 lingfworth and I were countrymen, and were foon brotherly ; 
 our friendftiip began there, I may fay ; he gave me an 
 account of his travels : I underftood, he had ftudied at a 
 German college ; and had been often in Spain. His con- 
 verfation was amufing, but he was clofe in all about his 
 home and family. I could hear, he was a bachelor ; and a 
 native of London, but was educated fomewhere near Liver- 
 pool ; I was curious to know whereabouts near Liverpool, 
 as my home was at Birkenhead; but he was clofe about this. 
 His room at the quarantine was next to mine; he read there till 
 noon, and had the habit of walking about in it, and fpeaking to 
 
fMfmoti'i!. XV 
 
 himfelf in fome foreign language ; he feemed to fpeak every lan- 
 guage as well as his own, and had a great memory : he afto- 
 nilhed our foreign companions with his knowledge of their 
 countries and literature. One of them was a German, the 
 other was a Swede, I think. I thought my friend was a 
 very clever man, but not a happy one. We all met after 
 dinner in our public room, and played Ecarte, Chefs, and 
 Backgammon. Our Swedifti companion was a good finger, 
 I remember ; and carried in his pocket an album, and took 
 fketches. He took the German's likenefs one evening, 
 while my friend and I were playing Chefs ; he afked Mr. 
 Hollingfworth to fit for his likenefs, and fketched his portrait, 
 which I fhowed you. My friend threw it to me, and faid, 
 "There, Melladew, — there's a fouvenir of our journey."* 
 It is bad enough, and I prized it little then ; but I value it 
 now, as it is the only likenefs of him. We drove to Copen- 
 hagen when the ten days were out, where I flayed at the 
 Hotel Phoenix: he went to private lodgings. His favourite 
 place was the Mujeum of Northern Antiquities^ but I pre- 
 ferred Thorvaldfen' s Mufeum and The Cafino. I flayed at 
 Copenhagen about a week, and we met every evening ; we 
 
 * The worft part of this likenefs (fee frontilpiece) is the mouth : 
 the upper lip fliould have been curled ; the lower is too fmall and 
 hanging. — Ed. 
 
xvi iltmotrg. 
 
 were very forry to part after about fix weeks' travelling 
 together ; he promifed to write to me, and to vifit me when 
 he returned to England, which I begged him to do ; and 
 then went home by Lubeck and Hamburg ; and arrived in 
 London after being away about two months. This is all 
 that I can remember now of my journey with Mr. HoUingf- 
 worth. I remember only a few things here and there ; for 
 he was then no more to me than any other fellow-traveller, 
 and I took little notice of what did not concern my bufinefs. 
 I fee by my letters, it was in September, 1853, "Imojl three 
 years after my arrival In London^ I was at home in Birken- 
 head. I had made feveral other journeys in thofe three 
 years, and never expected to fee Mr. Hollingfworth again ; 
 for he had not even written to me. The fervant one morn- 
 ing informed me that a gentleman wifhed to fpeak to me ; 
 I went, and faw to my aftoniftiment Mr. Hollingfworth. 
 He dined with me that day, and told me, he returned to 
 England laft April ; he gave me an account of what he had 
 been doing fince we parted ; he had been ftudying Icelandic 
 in Copenhagen ; and had been in Iceland ; and in different 
 parts of Denmark to ftudy, as I underflood him, the Danifli 
 dialefts ; he told me, he had had the brain-fever, and his 
 appearance was changed for the worfe. I advifed him to 
 fi:udy lefs, when he anfwered, " I fly to books as fome men 
 
fly to drink;" but the grand end of his vifit was to tell me 
 that he was about going to America, to fee, he faid, the 
 Falls of Niagara. He wifhed me to take charge of a box 
 which he had filled with all he would not need on the 
 journey; it contained books and papers, he faid, which were 
 of no ufe to others but valuable to him ; he told me to take 
 great care of it, which I aiTured him, I would do. This was, 
 to the beft of my recolleftion, on the 14th or 15th September 
 laft. He told me, the " Ifaac Wright" was the firft ftiip, 
 and was advertifed to fail on the i6th, but might be detained 
 a day ; fo, we went to fee the veflel, which was a firfi: clafs 
 regular packet-fhip of Meflirs. Baring Brothers and Co.'s 
 Line. I afked my friend if he had taken his palTage ; he 
 could do that, he faid, on board when he had tried the 
 accommodations. I told him not to think of going in any 
 but the firft cabin ; as he would, otherwife, be jumbled up 
 with emigrants and all forts of people : — " Well," was his 
 anfwer; "we are all God's creatures." He was not at all 
 nice about where he lodged, or how he travelled, — I faw 
 that in our journey ; for fuch an old wanderer was accuf- 
 tomed to all forts of people and places ; firft clafs or third 
 clafs was all the fame to him. I was with him every day in 
 Liverpool till he failed ; he told me, when we parted, to take 
 
 great care of the box. I begged him to be quite at eafe 
 
 c-d 
 
xviii JMtmoiv^. 
 
 about it; he promifed to write to me from America. This 
 was our fecond parting. As I was in Liverpool in the 
 beginning of October, I heard the " Ifaac Wright's" cala- 
 mity ; a full account was in the papers ; the following was 
 rn The Times of the 7th October : — 
 
 LIVERPOOL, Oct. 6. 
 
 The cholera has broken out among the German paflengers on 
 board the American emigrant-lhip Ifaac Wright, which put back to 
 this port on Tuefday, having ftruck on a rock N.N.W. of Cape 
 CleaT on the 28 th ult. Before the veflel reached the Merfey 47 paf^ 
 ftngers were thrown overboard, and after making the river three 
 more died and were carried afliore. It was then found neceffary to 
 remove a confiderable number to the hofpital at the workhouft, three 
 unfortunate creatures dying in the carts on their tranfit thither. The 
 governor of the workhouft, who witnelTed the Irifh famine crifis, 
 fays he never faw cartloads of human miftry which filled him with 
 fo much horror as thofe which conveyed the fick emigrants to the 
 workhoufe on Tuefday. Several died on WedneiHay, and five more 
 expired between 2 o'clock this morning and the time our correJpondent 
 made enquiries at the houfe (3.35 p.m.). There were then 38 fick 
 emigrants in the hofpital, many of whom are, no doubt, dead before 
 this will meet the public eye. The poor creatures were loud in their 
 complaints of the infufficiency and unwholefomenefs of the provi- 
 fions on board, fome of them aflerting that feveral of their relatives 
 and friends had died from pofitive hunger and tliirft ; while they 
 defcribed the conduft of the officers and crew as having been brutal 
 in the extreme. The cook (a black) they faid, had charged them at 
 the rate of 6d. a-quart for hot water, while for the firfi: 1 1 days they 
 only received fix days' provifions. One efpecial caufe of grievance 
 was, that at the end of the firft week at lea the divifion between the 
 men and women's berths was broken down, and that there was 
 nothing to ftcure a feparation of the fexes. There are ftill a few 
 cafts of cholera in the workhoufe from the American emigrant fhip 
 Silas Greenman ; but the difeafe among them has been partially over- 
 come, and no danger is apprehended in their cafe. There have been 
 feveral deaths from cholera in the town fince Monday. 
 
iMtmotvsi. xix 
 
 " I was fadly fliocked at all this, and could npt find his name 
 
 amongft the names of the cabin paflengers. I'lfhought, then, 
 
 that he was amongtt the emigrants ; but he w^S nowhere to 
 
 be found ; for he was not amongft thofe who were waiting 
 
 for the veflel failing again, nor amongft thofe at tHe hofpital. 
 
 The number of paflengers returned and the nuinber dead 
 
 and thrown overboard, made up the number that lef^ fo, as 
 
 he was not amongft the living, he muft have been one of 
 
 the forty-feven. I went from one place to the otheri and 
 
 inquired of every one likely to know anything ; but neither 
 
 the captain and crew nor paflengers, could tell me anything ; 
 
 it was not likely that any one would be noticed or remenir 
 
 bered on the deck of a veflel with 500 to 600 emigrants ; 
 
 and all was panic and confufion after the fliip ftruck ; for 
 
 the lower hold was full of water, and every one that was able 
 
 had to pump. All hope was over when I faw my friend's 
 
 unclaimed portmanteau and carpet-bag turn up ; which were 
 
 at laft given up to me ; and placed befide the box he had 
 
 left. I was now at a lofs what to do with thefe ; for they 
 
 were well locked up ; and I did not think, I had a right to 
 
 break them open; although they might contain letters or 
 
 papers with the addrefs of his friends. I waited and confi- 
 
 dered till about the middle of December,, when I was about 
 
 leaving for London ; and gave a news-agent in Liverpool the 
 
 c-d 2 
 
XX ■' iM«motr£i. 
 
 advertifement to infert in The Times. I was- unexpeftedly 
 detained at home, and begged the firm in London to forward 
 me all letters. I got to hear fomething, perhaps, of all the 
 Hollingfworths in England through that advertifement. But 
 you, Reverend Sir, appeared on the i8th December at my 
 home in Birkenhead, and perfeftly fatisfied all my inquiries ; 
 ajid I confequently gave ■ up my journey to London. You 
 may print this account if you think proper. 
 
 " I am, dear Sir, yours fmcerely, 
 
 "Edward MelladEw." 
 
 Such was the melancholy communication which Mr. 
 E. Melladew made to me ! After having received it, I made 
 every poflible inquiry ; but all lead to the fame fad conclu- 
 fion. I, therefore, returned to London to acquaint her who 
 Was moft interefl:ed in the fate of this unfortunate man. I 
 fhall pafs over all that relates to my interview with her. 
 She requefted me to examine the luggage, and to inform her 
 of the contents. I. returned to Mr. E. Melladew- To this 
 gentleman, Mr. HoUingfworth had confided more than to 
 me ; for, at our lafl: meeting, he never hinted that it was his 
 intention to vifit America ; nor had he confidered me worthy 
 of guarding his box of papers. I have previoufly mentioned 
 his fufpicions towards me: of which, notwithftanding his 
 
iMcmoti'S. xxi 
 
 friendlinefs during his fliort vifits, he was probably never 
 dlvefted. It was, too, perhaps. In his nature to hate thofe 
 whom he had ofFended or injured: 
 
 " Proprium humani Ingenii odiffe, quern laeferis." 
 
 We are fometlmes Inclined to truft to an uninterefted 
 companion what we would lock up from our neareft relative. 
 " This corn-merchant," he probably reafoned with himfelf, 
 " will care nothing about my Anglo-Saxon books and literary 
 works ; he will have no curiofity to pry into them that he 
 may correfpond with my concealed parents. Our homely 
 confidants are too familiar to refpeii: our goods and fecrets. 
 This bufinefs man will be more to be depended upon. I 
 read his charadter thoroughly as we were fhut out from the 
 world in our lonely quarantine — as we travelled and lived 
 together fo long alone, and exchanged every thought ta 
 beguile the tedioufnefs of our journey." I can imagine that 
 nothing knits two of the fame foil fo intimately together as 
 travelling in foreign countries. Be this as it may, Mr. Hol- 
 lingfworth appears to have been much attached to his bufi- 
 nefs friend. 
 
 Opening the box which was intrufl:ed to him, we found 
 an old writing-defk, fome pieces of wearing apparel thrown 
 over books, loofe papers, and manufcripts. The defk con- 
 
xxii ilMnnoirS. 
 
 tained a legal document in an envelope addreffed, " Mr. 
 Edward Melladew." It is to the effect : — That, in cafe 
 Mr. Hollingfworth died on the journey to America, he 
 authorized Mr. E. Melladew to publifti his Works or to 
 employ fuch perfons as were capable of doing fo ; that one 
 half of the profits is to be divided amongft him and thofe whom 
 
 he employed; the other half is to be given to Mrs. . 
 
 This lady is the fame that he met in 1838. She was mar- 
 ried fliortly after his quarrel with her parents ; but fhe ftill 
 refides in the neighbourhood. He never, when he returned 
 from the Continent, quejftioned me refpedting this lady; but 
 he, doubtlefs, gained information from other fources. He 
 lodged then, I am informed, often weeks near her dwelling 
 after having left mine. But to return. We found fome 
 manufcripts : which it is the obje£l of myfelf and of fome 
 learned friends whom Mr. E. Melladew has employed, to 
 give to the Public. 
 
 Thefe manufcripts are written in an almoft illegible fcrawl ; 
 whole paffages being frequently blotted, erafed, and interhned. 
 Many parts of them are on fcraps and half fheets of paper 
 often unconne£l:ed]y packed together. To judge from them, 
 it would appear that their author compofed eafily and with 
 great rapidity ; but that he afterwards laboured long and often 
 
fMcmoi'riS. xxiii 
 
 on what he had written, and was never fatisfied with his 
 produftions. 
 
 More than two years have been fuffered to elapfe in making 
 arrangements, and in deciphering the little that we now bring 
 before the Public. It is about a third part — about 4,000 lines 
 of his lateft and largeft Work — " Childe Erconwold :" 
 the whole of which confifts, I fhould fay at a guefs, of about 
 10,000 to 12,000 lines. We intend to publifh his fmaller 
 manufcripts after this fliall have appeared. 
 
 I have thus given a bare imperfeft outline of the life of 
 my gifted unfortunate pupil. In doing fo, it has been my 
 principal endeavour to fay all that might be faid of the dead 
 without oiFending the living. The Public, having to do with 
 the author and his Works only, will, it is hoped, refrain from 
 inquiring more-i— from defiring that the feelings and firation of 
 private individuals fhould be expofed to the gaze of curiolity. 
 
 It may be afked. Why did Mr. Hollingfworth not publifli 
 his Works as he compofed them .'' and may be anfwered. He 
 doubtlefs never intended that they fliould appear in their 
 prefent ftate. It feems that he condemned in one month 
 what he had written in the preceding. It would appear, too, 
 from fome verfes which we find fcattered in his note-books, 
 that he wiftied to live in peaceful obfcurity. He was in the 
 habit, Mr. E. Melladew informs us, of carrying one of the 
 
xxiv ilMtmou'£f. 
 
 above-named books in the pocket of his drefling-gown. We 
 find fome fragments in them which {how his reafons for not 
 publifliing, his tafte, temper, and charadler. We, therefore, 
 fubmit them underneath to the reader's perufal. They feem 
 to be of the firfl: draught, written under the impulfe of the 
 moment; for they bear few marks of correftion, are often 
 unconnefted, irregular in their rhymes, and abrupt in their 
 terminations. It would appear from them that he had a pre- 
 fentiment of death — an idea that his life would be fhort. 
 They are fometimes bitterly fatirical ; and not at all amiable : 
 abounding with angry lines : which we could wifh were not ; 
 and which he probably, after a fecond reading, would have 
 blotted. But we mufl: fay on this occafion as on all fimilar, 
 that we are adling not as critics and cenfors but as editors ; 
 and are, therefore, bound to give our author's produ£lions as 
 we find them, whatever unamiable fentiments they may 
 contain. 
 
 With thefe fragments, I conclude thefe imperfeft Memoirs. 
 
 The fecond part of " Childe Erconwold " will follow 
 when it is ready for publication. 
 
 Near Liverpool, May, 1856. 
 
ajgm^itts. 
 
 Our Age will be Time's wonder-age of ages; — 
 How bold in wit ! how brave in inky wars ! 
 How rife In feers ! — in run-and-read deep fages ! 
 'T would pump an ocean dry, and count the ftars. 
 It knows what was, what is, what aye will be ; — 
 Dives down to hell, or towers beyond the Ikies ; 
 It chats with fpirits on eternity : — 
 Is fiirely, then, moft great and wife. 
 
 Old fairy Fiftion now is forced to flee : 
 
 Reality has more poetic worth.: 
 
 Young giant Science ftrides o'er every fea. 
 
 And plays at football with our little Earth. 
 
 As his club rules, poor Poetry muft rife 
 
 To myftic worlds beyond his railway crowds ; — 
 
 Muft whine o'er daiiies; chatter in the Ikies; 
 
 And rant and rave among the clouds. 
 
 Hail Prophet- Age ! Hold up thy glorious men ! 
 Thou giv'ft us lads of poets who can rhyme 
 On fpirits, death, on all beyond our ken ; — 
 Great critics too to dub their rant, " Sublime !" 
 
i dfragntfiitji. 
 
 Thou giv'ft us bards who polifti wondrous fine — 
 Ufe Criticifm's file fo marvellous well 
 That every word — nay, every dot muft tell ; 
 Then leave, at laft, a cold dead marble-line. 
 
 " Their art is great. They give a well-iet gem ; 
 
 And are the bell of fculptors in their verfe. 
 
 They're right, methinks ; for furely nought is worfe 
 
 Than Shakipeare's folk : they've too much life in them." 
 
 " And wha can bear noo Byron's grewjome carles ? 
 
 [Minerva's — Scotland's — Curfe is na forgot) 
 
 Down with laird Byron ! Up with Walter Scot t" 
 
 Our cannie critic fnarls, 
 
 " Or praife up that fad Chant of Undertakers, 
 
 Our mystic Ranters, and our walhy Lakers." 
 
 Thefe darlings with their critics foon will be 
 Gone " down among the dead men " ne'er to rife. 
 But who knows what we yet may live to fee ? 
 Time might mifname them, " Great" or " Wife ;" — 
 Give them a dark nook in his hall like that 
 Which Captain Rag has now with King and Sprat. 
 But thou, proud Byron, ftill wilt live and pleafe ; — 
 With all thy faults, with all thy Ihameful wit. 
 With all that I too wifh had ne'er been writ. 
 Still have the foul-unlocking " golden keys ;" — 
 Wilt ftill be found in that far-looming age 
 A great heart-mover in Old England's page. 
 
#rastntntf(. 
 
 I'd give a groat to know who then will fleep 
 
 In dread oblivion. Who will wear the bay 
 
 That boaffi it now? Who'll then have dozed away ? — 
 
 Be " buried in the bofom of the ocean deep"? — 
 
 I too have finn'd in verfe ; — have chifeU'd rhymes ; 
 
 But fee this age praife high its balderdalh ; 
 
 And call " Sublime !" what ne'er was aught but traih : 
 
 So, leave my books to worms or better times. 
 
 They're in my trunk : where wits or mice may feed. 
 When HoLL is dead, up. Critics ! and condemn. 
 Some friend may find — nay, haply, publilh them ; 
 And take unto himfelf all praife and meed. 
 They'll be no worfe, if fo, for coming late. 
 And I fliall then have kept my peace of mind ; — 
 Have lived among the lowlieft of my kind 
 Far from that little world men call. The great. 
 
 But whither, buckram Steam- Age, wilt thou lead ? 
 
 It might betide that fome great men to be — 
 
 That coming Johnfons look afquint on thee ; 
 
 And honour lefs our talking than our deed ; — 
 
 That all will laugh at us in far-oiF times 
 
 When they behold our phizzes and our rhymes ; 
 
 And fee then how we ftuck upon our cop 
 
 What likens moft a fmoky chimney-top. 
 
 But what, with marvellous tafte, we chriften'd. Hat ;— 
 
 See how we liked to brace, to ftrap and bind ; 
 
 To ftrut, with hair-patch'd jaws in ttiff cravat,, 
 
 In blanket-cape, or wrapp'd up in a fack. 
 
 With fwallow-tail nice hanging out behind. 
 
dii dfragmtntiS. 
 
 " What," they might cry then, " can ye hope to find 
 
 In fuch a ftarchy pack ? 
 
 Thefe ihow'd by what they put upon their back 
 
 How gracelefe was their mind !" — 
 
 It might^¥or who knows what may come to pafs? — 
 
 It might betide when fifty years are o'er. 
 
 That Blackwood's trump'd -a^ fogey live no more; — 
 
 That our great valley-bard be call'd. Great Afs. 
 
 The Bible's full of turn'd inverted phraft ; — 
 
 How fhall men underftand it in thefe days ! 
 
 Heaven help thee, Shakfpeare ! — thee. High Milton, too !- 
 
 Thee, " Glorious John !" Whatever will ye do ? 
 
 We really can't, in our tranfcendent times. 
 
 Put up with you — with your old fcrew'd up rhymes. 
 
 Thou, Lulling Pope ! — and thou. Old Churchyard Gray !- 
 
 Thou, Ocean Byron ! — Ye've all had your day : 
 
 Lake Wordfworth taught us what ye wadna ken; 
 
 And all our guid Reviews have faid. Amen. 
 
 'Tis true, ye have a fign above your door ; — 
 
 A golden fign, ye never had of yore : 
 
 Which makes us fo forgive your twilled rhyme. 
 
 'Tis true, too, that ye're very often read ; — 
 
 That critics kindly call your verfe " Sublime " 
 
 Where't never would be if ye were not dead. 
 
 But, after all, we'll have to bury you ; 
 
 For none dare write now as ye dared to do ; 
 
 And this quoth Wordfworth, this quoth " Our Review." 
 
 Yet this poetic Cobden broke his rules : 
 Even he, at laft, muft write as other fools : 
 
This workman could not ufe Ws own dear tools : — 
 " If I along that lowly way 
 With fympathetic heart may Jir-ay ;" — 
 " What nobler marvels than the mind 
 May in life's daily ^ro{-pt& find ■" — 
 
 Infpiring verfe of that fweet daify-lover ! — 
 " That daify with its bofs of gold 
 That fpreads itfelf, fome fairy bold 
 
 In fight to cover /" — 
 " With little here to do or fee 
 Of things that in the great world be y" — 
 " His forehead wrinkled was and furrd " (fo mine 
 
 Would foon be too if oft I read thy line) ; — 
 " Praife it is enough for me. 
 If there be but three or four 
 Who will love my little flower !" 
 
 Praife is enough ? Egad ! methinks fo too. 
 
 Pronounce his flower. Floor; and then 'twill do. 
 
 But " Praife it is " — What pretty mode of fpeech ! 
 
 Which he it is, his friends it is, would teach. 
 
 Was England drunk in thofe old Tory days 
 
 When fuch Wifli-Wafli as his won gold and praife? 
 
 'Tis well for her that he's yet all unknown 
 
 In foreign lands, and little in his own ; — 
 
 That he's fo great but in a Scotch Review. 
 
 It were not hard to prove that all his verfe 
 
 Is like to that above, and often worfe. 
 
 But Works on his would foon be buried too ; 
 
 And more " our limits " will not let " us " do. 
 
What cant is that ye fuperwife ones Jpeak 
 
 Of what tlpou, Veil'd Pofterity, wilt fay ! 
 
 What is thy maxim ? — " Dans la politiquei 
 
 II n'y a pas des hommes (I choofe and pay) : 
 
 II n'y a que des int^rfets.'' 
 
 "I'll keep too, Holl, thy moony fpell — 
 
 That is, — If it fliould like me well, 
 
 I'll let thee live a day. 
 
 But though thou bleed for every line ; 
 
 And ponder till thy cranium break : 
 
 I will not keep a verfe of thine 
 
 But for mine own dear fake.'' 
 
 well, my lafs ! — I know thy felfilh ways. 
 From this time forth, Ihall Holl and thou be quit : 
 
 1 give thee not a thank for all thy praife 
 Of what I write or may have writ ! — 
 
 London, May, 1853. 
 
 O for a Johnfon in thefe days I 
 
 To tell Who's Who and What is What, 
 
 That dunces might not win fuch praife ; 
 
 Nor Shakfpeare, Milton, be degraded ; 
 
 And blent with every Pift and Scot \ 
 
 Shall all be damn'd by Daify Wordy's creed ? 
 
 Does literary England fleep ? — invaded 
 
 By thofe marauders from beyond the Tweed ? 
 
We have on her old high Parnaffus 
 
 ('Tis woe to fay !) no lack of affes : 
 
 Who like their thiftles and their weed. 
 
 I'd roufe her foul againft that clan ; 
 
 And hope, when I'm no more, to wake her. 
 
 Then, Blackwoods, fay the worft ye can ; 
 
 But don't compare me with your Laker ! — 
 
 London, May, 1853. 
 
 I care nought for what wigged Learning fay ; — 
 For Latin Doftor's frown, or critic's dart. 
 If I fliould die not with my fleeting day, 
 I'd live in every good old woman's heart ; — 
 Be known to John the Boots, to Poll the nurfe. 
 And judged by loving maidens of my land : 
 Then, down with Myftics ! Mine Ihall be the verfe 
 That men may ftudy ; children, underftand. 
 
 London, June, 1853. 
 

"A.D. 1096: 
 
 " ^HIS year, crafty men knew what was in a 
 '' man's head when they felt its bumps ; and great 
 *' was the marvel thereat. 
 
 " This year, alfo, the Pope's legate came to 
 " England ; and took with him Peter's pence; and 
 " called himfelf, Bifhop. And this year it was, 
 " when WiUiam Rufus was king of England, that 
 " the Lay of Childe Erconwold was fung : it 
 " was fung, as books fay unto us, at Hallentun, 
 " near Runckhorne, in Mercia : which is ever ftill 
 
 B 2 
 
4 (Stfilist ISwottiDOltr. 
 
 " called, Hauhon Cajlle. There dwelt the Norman 
 " Earl Nigel and his daughter Mable. This 
 " Mable was a very fair lady, fo that there was 
 " none more lovely in all England. Thither, as it 
 " is written, there came a Saxon gleeman. He was 
 " not very old, but he feemed fo : his high brow 
 " was furrowed, and his long locks were white as 
 " fnow. On the Eve of Saint Andrew's Mafs, 
 *' there being a fearful ftorm, he iheltered at the 
 " caftle ; and long there abode. Young Mable 
 " and her father, the Earl, bade him fing ; and he 
 " did (o : he fang of all that betided at Hallentun 
 " thirty years before their day, — of times when the 
 " mighty Saxon, Earl Wodennoth the Bold, was 
 " lord there; when Harold was king of England. 
 " As the Norman Count Nigel heard that the 
 " Lay was concerning his caftle, then much it liked 
 " him : he bade a monk come, and pen all that the 
 " gleeman fang. Now, this monk was a Norman, 
 " much given to Frankilh and Latin: when he mif- 
 " conned the Saxon, then wrote he what he beft 
 
(S'^n'Oe ISvronluoltr. 5 
 
 " might ; and that in his own wife, fetting before 
 "every fpeech 'So quoth Erconwold' — 'Thus 
 " faid Melitha.' He, moreover, fet down many 
 " Latin and outlandifh words, which the gleeman 
 " never knew ; and wrote of things which were not 
 " in thofe days. Others, too, long after his death, 
 " altered the fcrolls; for, well methinks, the gleeman 
 " never fang of Sturla, Montogildas, and 
 " others ; and that no man then knew of aught 
 " that they did. Some monk of our own times fet 
 " them alive in the book. They liken the new 
 " pillars in our old minfter: the Superwife fay that 
 " their newnefs mars its ancient look ; but crowds 
 " go the old ones by to gaze on the new. 
 
 " When the hoary minftrel had fung his lay, then 
 " were the fcrolls of the monk given to fair Mable. 
 " They paffed, as books tell us, from her to her 
 " children and children's children. After three 
 " hundred years, they fell into the hands of many 
 " not akin to the Nigels. Then were they given 
 " with lands to a neighbouring monaftery. There 
 
6 (Stfilhe iBrrottlMOltr. 
 
 " were they much read and altered. Some brother 
 " monks lately ftrove about them : — ' This poem, 
 " methlnks, is an Epic' — ' Nay,' quoth the next, 
 " ' more dramatic ; neither one nor t'other.' — 'Why, 
 " then, 'tis both,' faid a third, 'a dramatic Epopee.' 
 " — ' Tut !' cried a fourth, ' Never, fince Adam, hight 
 " a poem fo!' — Long thefe critics ftrove till, at laft, 
 " one, who was vaftly learned, faid : — ' This child, 
 " among the children of Imagination, hath three 
 " legs ; and be, therefore, a monfter.' — Still none 
 " knew what to name it ; and, fo, it be unchriftened 
 " to this day. If men like it, it boot little, 
 " methinks, what they call it. Not long thefe 
 " monks held the fcrolls : they fold them to book- 
 " men. They too changed all ; and fet therein 
 " New Englifh with much of our own times. At 
 " laft, they were held by a wandering monk hight 
 " Domingo Hollingsworth ; te what he did 
 " with them, no man knoweth. — 
 
 " This year, the Scots confpired againft Duncan, 
 " their king ; and flew him ; and took his uncle 
 
<S't)iltie IGtconUioltr. 7 
 
 " Dufenal for their king. This year, alfo, on the 
 " Vigil of Saint Matthew, was feen a bloody cloud ; 
 " and many foretold that the end of the world was 
 " nigh, and great was the fear thereof; and tables 
 " were feen to leap and fpin about ; and men fell 
 " into a trance when others waved their hand. 
 
 " And this year, the people were fore afraid that 
 " the Franks would come and ravage England; and, 
 " at Candlemas, King William Rufus went to 
 « Haftings; ******" 
 

 pULL thirty winters now are fled 
 Since Englifh Harold fought and bled ; 
 And RufuSj Norman William's fon. 
 Now wears the crown which Alfred won. 
 
 It ftorms without : 'tis dreary night. 
 The lordly hearth in Nigel's hall 
 Is heap'd with fire, and throws its light 
 O'er glittering fhields upon the wall. 
 And armour worn in Hafting's fight. 
 
While he that wore it on that day, — 
 Now tottering old, with filver-hair, — 
 Is fet near lady Mable there ; 
 And tells of kings long paff'd away. 
 She, dark-eyed maid, fo young and fair. 
 With raven-locks, fays " Yes " or " Nay ;" 
 But mufes on fome lover's lay. 
 
 Both watch the fire with thoughtful eye. 
 To him the fparks and afhes mean, — 
 That man muft rife, and fliine, and die ; — 
 Be then as though he ne'er had been. 
 She traces there a dragon-fight, 
 A bounding fteed and glittering knight ; 
 Then, haply, thinks on him fhe loves ; — 
 Sees rocky caverns, winding groves ; — 
 Now, fkies with fiery fun and clouds ; — 
 Now, fhapes like coffins, deathly fhrouds,— 
 Ha ! Hark ! What night, black fcowling ! 
 Wind o'er the high towers howling. 
 
©ftiltre lErfOtiluollr. 
 
 Moaning, whiftling, 
 
 Trees loud ruftling ; 
 
 Lightning flafhes ; 
 
 Deep dread thunder. 
 
 Nearer nearer rolHng, crafhes ; — 
 
 An old thane opes the door : — 
 
 Bl5ri> What now ? 
 
 Cfianr* Sire Knight, 
 
 A minftrel bides without ; — an aged wight, 
 
 ^Ifff L What will he ? 
 
 Cftaite* Shelter, lord. 
 
 ^I'gtL Then, let him come. 
 
 Be Haulton Caftle e'er the poor one's home 
 
 To greet the man of fong, kind Mable goes : — 
 Ah, for poor minftrel, happy days were thofe ! — 
 Drear Night, lead-wing'd, flees flow : with lovers' lay. 
 She bids him haften the long dull hours away : — 
 
12 <SttiH>e ISrrontuoItf. 
 
 ^igtlt Come near the hearth, thou Man of Lays ; — 
 Come, reft thyfelf : thou'rt old, I fee. 
 
 iHl'nft* Soon, Earl, we fhall have lived our days ; 
 But thou haft one to mourn for thee. 
 Full many a dreary winter's fnow 
 Hath fallen o'er thefe locks of mine. 
 I long have ceafed to live below ; 
 Or, lived but for to moan and pine. 
 No wife, no child, no friend, is here ; — 
 Ah ! nothing in the wide world more 
 Than this poor harp and memory dear. 
 To tell of bliffful days of yore. 
 As Harold loft his life and crown, 
 I wander'd from my father-town ; 
 And, lince thofe woeful Norman times. 
 Have roved or dwelt in other climes ; — 
 Have fung abroad my Saxon lays. 
 But there, of late, I long'd to fee 
 
CTfiittr^ iErcotttooia. 13 
 
 The fpot which is fo dear to me ; 
 
 And came to end my days. 
 JMflblt. Here, drink this wine (Her /mall white hand 
 
 Fills him a cup onjilver-fiand;) 
 
 And fing us then fome gladdening fong 
 
 In Norman or in Saxon tongue. 
 Jttl'nft* Though mouldering Time may caft all down, 
 
 Our fpeech will never die away : 
 
 Though Frank or Dane fhould win our crown. 
 
 Our England there will live for aye ! 
 Jiflafilf ♦ There is a Saxon tale of old, 
 
 Which all our aged neighbours ken. 
 
 Full often have I heard it told. 
 
 And yet would hear it once again. 
 
 'Tis call'd, " Childe Ergon's Lay." 
 MiniU I weet : 
 
 It is of one that god-like ftrove ; 
 
 But gave up Earth and Heaven for love. 
 
1 4 (<Tt)iItre iSrcmtUJOlir. 
 
 iMa6Ie» A tale fo fad !— I know not why, — fo fweet ! 
 
 iMinft* I too, kind lady, ken his lay. 
 
 In fong, he lives ; — in life, is dead. 
 Ah ! All, though thirty years are fled, — 
 All is but as of yefterday ! — 
 Oh ! though I've feen fuch deathful ftrife ; — 
 Our Saxon flag for ever furl'd ! — 
 Seen all mofl; dear borne from this world 
 To that of light and endlefs life ! — 
 ^IgeU It muft be fad to live thus all bereft. 
 
 Jiflafilt* Haft thou no friend — no loving daughter left ? 
 
 iMinft* What is moft loved, we fear fo much to lofe. 
 That even its very having is a care. 
 But nought can reave the poet of his Mufe, 
 Whatever want and forrows he may bear. 
 In this true friend, I fet my hope and truft ; 
 Since all that was moft dear, is falfe or duft ! — 
 I give to her all thought, all love, all reft. 
 
(Sffiltse IBvcon'oiolb, 15 
 
 All joys of life, unhearten'd and unknown ; — 
 Find in long toil, — in tears wept on her breaft, 
 A foothing balm for all that grieve mine own : — 
 
 iMatlle* Ah, poor old man ! — 
 
 JMl'ttft* But to Childe Ergon's Lay: — 
 
 My lady waits : — 
 
Cj&iltie CtcottUiolti: 
 
 
?|o\i3 ti)e iHtnflrel tiegin0 Jts iLa^» 
 
 I. 
 
 npHE world's great ftar is fet; the night-fhades fall; 
 
 The raven croaks ; the foreft wild ones howl. 
 
 The Benedidines gather in their hall ; — 
 
 Set round the borde,f throw back their fwarthy cowl ; — 
 
 Now bring out merrily their hidden bowl ; — 
 
 Cry, " Hail, King Harold ! Hail, our Saxon fway ! 
 
 " Drink! Godwin's fon was crowned king to-day !"(i) 
 
 ' At Chefter. (Anglo-Saxon, L^ge Cefter.') 
 t Tabic. (Anglo-Saxon, B6rd.) 
 
 C 2 
 
20 3 (itffilXit iSwonUjoltr. 
 
 The borde is fpread with fruit and dainty food. 
 Which HoLCROFTS fent (What godly familie !); 
 With rarefl: fowl, caught in the Wirral-wood ; 
 With wines from Frankenland and Hifpanie ; * 
 The beft of fifh that fwim in Diffyrdee.f 
 Our worthy monks now neither afk nor care 
 How Time's wave flow ; or, man's falvation fare. 
 
 Two, near the door, tell what our late king faid. 
 
 One blames the new one ; — holds the Duke in fcorn. 
 
 A ring of grizzly hair is round his head : 
 
 Which he would have us call his Crown of Thorn ; — 
 
 A mark of fufFering moft unmeetly worn : 
 
 All that he wear or feem, could never hide 
 
 His envy-pouting lip and frown of pride. 
 
 * France and Spain. f The Dee. 
 
etJtKfe iStrconujoIti. 2' 
 
 We've fome like him among our holy kin, — 
 Great popes in little Romes : — 'Tis fad to fee ! — 
 Who bear fuch lording brow, high drawn-up chin ; 
 Such love of might, fuch cold cold charitie ; 
 Who rage if any take their C for G ; 
 Or, with their meeknefs, love, and Chriftian glow. 
 Are oft themfelves the gods they'd have us know. 
 
 His talk-mate is a chubby ftiort-neck'd wight ; — 
 
 All cheeks and paunch, for ever in his chinks. 
 
 He holds a gliftening goblet in his right ; — 
 
 Now laughs ; — novr feems to hear; — now fills, and drinks. 
 
 He ponders nought his lean friend fears or thinks ; 
 
 Nor cares what hap in England or in Rome. 
 
 Full cups for him ! Then anywhere's his home ! — 
 
See, next to them, a filent gambling pair : 
 
 Who play Bach Cammon. One props up his head ;- 
 
 Is watching every throw with anxious flare ; — 
 
 Thinks now far more than when the creed is faid. 
 
 How pale is he ! while, pimpled, cherry-red. 
 
 His beak juts out 'mid white funk cheeks to tell, — 
 
 That wine and wanton glee like him for well. 
 
 His dice-mate is a gloomy fretful wight. 
 
 With olive leer and rolling eagle-eyes. 
 
 He, ne'er at eafe, leans every way but right ; — 
 
 Now rubs his brow; — now plays; — now yawns and fighs. 
 
 What gnaws his heart ? His mind-worm never dies. 
 
 His worft of woes here is to think and be ; 
 
 His hardeft toil, to make flow Time to flee. — 
 
^tiim iEwonujolIr. 23 
 
 See wife old Wilfrid : whom thofe ill ones hate. 
 He fits alone ; — is mufing o'er a book ; — 
 Reads good Prudentius, his deareft mate : 
 With whom he fteals from all to yon ftill nook; — 
 Eyes oft the roof, in thought, to fhun their look : 
 Where dire Chimera with like monfters be ; 
 And circles, — fymbols of eternitie. 
 
 What long white leer is under that black cowl ! 
 He's fad-eyed Thought's poor happy willing flave. 
 He ne'er was heard to laugh; — likes more to fcowl. 
 Smiles light his cheek as fun-beams light a grave. 
 Above his book-flielf is : — " What doft thou crave ? 
 " Life with the Living Dead ? — If fo, friend, ftay ; 
 " But, if with our Dead Living, go thy way !" — 
 
24 (UtiilOt iSwonUJOllr. 
 
 One opes the door;— Who comes ?— 'Tis Brother Odda ! 
 (Short, writhed-faced man with hump on back; whichhe 
 Is wont to call. Mount ^Etna of his body) 
 Each rifes wonder-ftruck ; — cries, " Can it be !" 
 All gather around him, — " What! from Hifpanie?" 
 (9tllja» Ay, friends! 'TisI!— Olong-yearn'd-forday! How fain! 
 What blifs ! What blifs ! I can look on OldCefter again ! 
 
 " Young Erconwold, good Widow Hilda's fon, 
 
 " Came with our fhip. He went laft year to Rome 
 
 " For WoDENNOTH, our Earl of Hallentun. 
 
 " Go, bid him reft till morn: when he'll ride home." 
 
 Old Wilfrid goes: — returns; — Lo! there they come 
 
 ~As dark November link'd with rofy May, 
 
 As black-robed Night in hand with dazzling Day. 
 
(iTfitllre IStrconluolti. 25 
 
 He's comely fhapen ; — not of talleft height ; 
 Of hardy build ; with locks of raven hair ; — 
 South-Franken hazel eyes, quick gleaming bright; — 
 Is dark as Roman ; — not, as Saxon, fair ; — 
 Nought like the fons chill North is wont to bear : 
 And yet his heart beats quick when others tell 
 How Alfred ruled and Iron Edmund fell. 
 
 His tunic of white filk is purfled blue ; — 
 Bound clofe by girdle fet with glittering stone. 
 His ftarry mantle of bright welkin-hue * 
 Hangs down in folds, o'er his left fhoulder thrown. 
 A brooch is on the right, — in ihape, a cone : 
 Wherein, like fun and ftars, large rubies glare. 
 Not Harold, king, I trow, hath one more fair. 
 
 ' Skybliie. 
 
26 (Stfiiat iBvconiaolXt, 
 
 His wrift is dight with ring of ihining gold : 
 
 Where " me heht wyrcan Erconwald " is feen. * 
 
 A Daniih Viking own'd his fword of old. 
 
 'Twas won at bloody Brunnanburg. Some ween, — 
 
 That, when unflieathed, its runes grow flaming ftieen. 
 
 It hath been will'd fo long by fire to fon ; 
 
 And Ercon fwears by't, when he'll have aught done. 
 
 He bears on fift a hawk of goodly price — 
 The Faulcon of the Rock ; which, as a boon. 
 With filks and rings and every precious fpice. 
 The good Pope fends our Earl of Hallentun : 
 Where Widow Hilda too dwells with her fon. 
 He, after all the fights of glorious Rome, 
 Now nears fo full of glee his Englifh home. 
 
 ' " Erconwold commanded me to be made." 
 
His lineage might be long : 'tis no-where fhown. 
 
 Men fay but little of his rank and bands. 
 
 Thefe are not great, methinks ; elfe, it were known ; — 
 
 Were long fince chronicled by prieftly hands : 
 
 (For they'd know beft what Saint will get his lands) 
 
 And yet he's proud ; — believes that nought on earth 
 
 Is more than freedom and his Englifh birth. 
 
 Youth weens but fairy-lands beyond its own. 
 He hath roam'd far ; — o'er Europe's wideft fpace ;- 
 From where god Odin built his favourite town 
 To where the Moorifh prophet fpread his race ; — 
 Hath learn'd fo young * * * '■ 
 
 ***** ^ 
 
 ****** 
 
 * Here the MS. is illegible.— Ed. 
 
28 (Stfiiiit istcottipoia* 
 
 Old Wilfrid, lo, now wafhes Ergon's feet ; — 
 Kind wont in Saxonland ! — Now bids him come. 
 Enjoy good fare ; — and takes near him a feat. — 
 Now both the comelings tell their tales of Rome, 
 Of Saint lago ; — afk of all at home ; — 
 Drink, chatter loud, and laugh. But Wilfrid eyes 
 The merry Childe ; — frownsoft; — ftillofter fighs: — 
 
 OTlI* " To thee, glad youth, the world's a blifTful bower ; — 
 " Sweet valley where but thornlefs rofes grow, 
 " How merrily thou whil'il away thine hour ! 
 " How brightly gleams Life's crown upon thy brow f 
 " O may'ft thou ever bide as glad as now ! 
 " Thy Paft be yefterday ; thy Future, morn! 
 " Ne'er know the real world to fret or fcorn !" 
 
They drown that old monk's voice with roaring laugh. 
 Cowls being dofF'd, fuch words are empty found. 
 They call for fong ; — -joke out the night, and quaff ; — 
 Send merrily the bowl and harp around : 
 But — Ha ! ha ! That chub carle wallows on the ground ! 
 All know by that, 'tis time to flink away. 
 Each reels now to his bed, afear'd of day. 
 But Wilfrid, all alone, remains to pray. — 
 
II. 
 
 "ylS fpring of day. A lamp, on gilden defk. 
 Burns yet within the chapel of the monks ; — 
 Is glimmering o'er a bright illumined book : 
 Where pale grave Wilfrid, pondering deeply, reads. 
 All is fo ftill in folemn twilight-gloom ; — 
 So light, albeit, that thou may'ft faintly fee 
 The Virgin's image near a high gilt crofs ; 
 Where that of dying blefled Jesus hangs. — 
 
32 Clijillre ISrconUidltr. 
 
 It grows now light. Thelampisquench'd. ButWiLFRiD 
 Abides yet there.— The door Is open'd ; — ^Lo ! 
 Childe Ercon enters ; — comes to bid Farewell. 
 That old monk counfels. Ercon would hurry away. 
 S!Mll, Take heed, young man, — 
 ^tt* My horfe is waiting. Say on ! 
 
 WlU* It is fo hard to go the narrow way ; 
 
 For Life is mafked Death in glittering pall : 
 
 Who bribes us there with lures, gold, pomp, or fway ; 
 
 And leads us then into his groanful hall. 
 
 Mark well an old man's words ; for fnowy locks 
 Drop pearls of truth, which toil and tears have won. 
 He knows life's wrecking fhoals, life's hidden rocks ; — 
 Hath gone the way which thou haft but begun. 
 
^tfilXie IBrtonluoltr. 33 
 
 Loft gold is found : loft hours are loft for aye. 
 Let time, young man ! be deem'd thy deareft ftore. 
 Life is an inn where thou wilt dwell a day ; — 
 Go foon the long old road, and come no more. (2) 
 
 Be kind to poor Old Age : thy years roll on. 
 Bear with its weaknefs: thou art hale and ftrong. 
 It needs moft helping love. Why give it none ? 
 'Twill foon need lefs : — It will not want thee long ! 
 
 Kind mother's love is heavenlinefs below ; — 
 In our ill world, a temple undefiled. 
 Be good to thine, left thou too come to know 
 What grief it is to have a worthlefs child. 
 
 Young love is fweet. 'Tis light to wander free ; — 
 To caft old dim-grown, for new fhining, gem : 
 Mind yet thy parents : if they weary thee, 
 O think how much, how long, thou'ft wearied them ! 
 
 D 
 
34 tSttfiUit: l^vcontjooia. 
 
 Goad not thy foe : he too is Sorrow's fon ; — 
 Can boaft fome Goodj whate'er thy hate may fay. 
 Steel, gold, and filver never bind as one : 
 All have their worth. Then, let him go his way. 
 
 To love thy wife, — all thofe of thy dear mind ; 
 To praife thy friend; — help him who help thee mo ft : 
 Thefe are the beggar-virtues of mankind. 
 Which even the loweft favages can boaft. 
 
 Hope on ! The worft of ftorms will pafs away. 
 Hold faft thy helm, howe'er the billows flow. 
 Time's at his wheel ; — can turn all in one day ; 
 And grave Hie j ace t o'er thy dreadeft foe. 
 
 Thou nam'ft all. Friends. Thou ween'ft, they'll ne'er forfake ; 
 
 May'ft hold their kindnefs for thy deareft hoard. 
 
 But fweeteft flowers can hide a deathful fnake. 
 
 Need proves thy friends, O youth ! as war, thy fword. (3) 
 
Truft not fpring's ice ; nor lurking fnake at reft ; 
 Nornew-fown field; nor words,— leaft, wavering girl's: 
 For Ficklenefs dwells in her lily-breaft ; 
 And woman's heart is like the wheel that whirls. 
 
 Truft not to wealth ; — oft fcatter'd in a day ! 
 What haft thou when the golden bird is fled ? 
 Flocks, friends, — all die ; thou too muft foon away : 
 But one thing lives,— the Doom upon the Dead. (4) 
 
 Have thou in mind — 
 (Bvt* Enough, monk ! I had rather 
 
 Thou'dft fpoken of thine own young days of glee ; 
 For I fliall talk as wifely as my father 
 When I have feen and done as much as he. 
 Farewell ! — 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 D 2 
 
36 atffiioe ^vconinoltf, 
 
 2!23ll» Is gone ? — Well ! Heaven watch over thee ! — 
 
 What time and counfel idly thrown away ! 
 Back to my book ! — How wild is youthful head ! 
 Perchance, he'll mind me yet ; — once come to fay : 
 " Ah, had I done but that old Wilfrid faid !" — 
 This page — Ay ; here I've read, — 
 
 The monk is feated at the defk again : 
 
 While Ercon makes all yare ; and Odda leaves his bed. 
 
III. 
 
 J^ARKNESS flown with Elves of Night, (5) 
 Morning comes in her golden wain ; 
 Shedding forth her gladdening light. 
 Waking all to life again. — 
 
 Ercon whiles befide yon cot. 
 Chattering with a blufhing ttiaid. 
 Though fhe leers fo fore afraid. 
 Yet, methinks, fhe hates him not. — 
 
38 38 ffli)tIBe lEwontooin. 
 
 Ha ! yon dame with locks of gray, 
 Liftening ftill to what they fay. 
 Peeps from window o'er their head :- 
 Oh ! He kifles her ! — has forgot 
 All that wife old Wilfrid faid ! — 
 
 Cester's gleamy pinnacles. 
 Spires and walls of dazzling white. 
 Shine o'er funny flowery hills. — 
 Cheerful larks, high rifing, fing 
 O'er that meadow Co dewy bright. — 
 Near yon wood, where loveful Spring 
 Decks each bough with livening green, 
 Werburg's rofy walls are feen. 
 Where the fwallows, twittering, fkim ;— 
 Huzzing Dee flows quickly along. 
 
All is gladnefs, all is rife 
 With new hope ; — fings joyful hymn. 
 Million birds, with chirp and fong. 
 Hail the beacon of light and life. — 
 
 Where is Erc ? — 'Tis growing late : 
 Earth's great Gladdener higher fliines. 
 Look now at yon arched gate. 
 Where the honey-fuckle twines: 
 Where a young horfe, fheenly dight. 
 Neighs fo loud ; and paws to run. 
 See thereon our youthful knight 
 Glittering in the morning-fun. 
 While, befide him, Odda ftands 
 With a liftening gleeful leer ; — 
 Holds a goblet in his hands. 
 Bending down his head to hear. 
 
 39 
 
4° atffiiat dSvcon^out, 
 
 How he nods with merry grin. 
 With his " yEtna " jutting high ! 
 'Tis as though he'd laugh'd his chin — 
 Laugh'd his eyes and cheeks awry. 
 What is Ercon telling there ? — 
 Now they giggle, and fhake their head : — 
 'Tis of yonder peeping fair ; 
 Or, of that old Wilfrid faid ; — 
 Now they're louder : — 
 (Bvt* Mother knows not I am near. 
 
 ^UJja. She'll joy fo, then, to fee her little dear. 
 
 (Bvt. 'Tis twelve months fince I left her. 
 #3jtra. Ride not yet. 
 
 <^tt. It grows fo late ; — 
 ^tlt>a« Ha ! ha ! She's looking yon. 
 
 She likes thee well. She'll forrow when thou'rt gone. 
 <0rt. A prettier gold-hair'd lafs, I never met. 
 (f^ljlja. Here, take, Erg : drink. 
 
(Err. No more. 
 
 (^IjJja. Come, come ! — a flip. 
 
 (StC, Well ! at our parting : give. Be hale ! — 
 O^Utra. ' ■ • Drink up.— 
 
 (Btt. Ha ! Now I muft gallop— What riins yon?— a hare?-^ 
 It crofles the road ? Dread fign ! This bodes nought good. 
 (Bijiin, But look" above it ! 
 
 (Svt. An eagle is fhooting there ! — 
 
 Is after it! — See! — now fwooping into the wood! — 
 That kingly bird makes gloomy fign to fair ; 
 I ftiould have been, elfe, in no merry mood. 
 (BtiiiU, Ha ! ha ! Young heathen ! 
 <Brt. Nay ! 'Tis ill begun. 
 
 Now whip and fpur! 
 (S^lJttd. Greet friends at Hallentun. 
 
 <£:rt. Tell Wilfrid that I'll ftrive to heed. 
 #tl3ja. Ha! ha! 
 ©re. Farewell ! 
 
42 
 
 
 
 fiTfjiltie (JftrconlBoKr. 
 
 mu. 
 
 
 
 Good fpeed ! — 
 
 
 He's 
 
 ofF!. 
 
 
 There laughing Odda bides ; 
 And eyes Erc till the neighbouring foreft hides. 
 Strong is the bridle of that fiery fteed ; 
 But ftronger needs the youth of him who rides.- 
 
IV. 
 
 
 CEE yon the glorious bounding Merfey run 
 
 But turn away. Behold that grafly plot 
 O'er-look'd by proud high towering Hallentun, 
 And fee poor Widow Hilda's lowly cot. 
 
 When meek-eyed Charity leaves Heaven for earth. 
 She dwells in her, ungemm'd, and homely dight. 
 The Weary rife enliven'd from her hearth. 
 The Poor ne'er lack her bleffing and her mite. 
 
44 Ctijillrf ©wottUioltr. 
 
 No neighbour heals (o foon a baneful wound. 
 'Tis not by fpell, as Envy makes it known. 
 'Tis by the heart that beats for thofe around ; 
 In others' woe, forgetting all its own. 
 
 A daughter dwells with her : whom Heaven denied 
 Full thought and fpeech., In ftead of them, it gave 
 A heart and mind that know nor guilt nor pride. 
 To fteal through life unfinning to the grave. 
 
 This olden child laughs out our frail life's day ; 
 
 Nor dreams of phantomsj kings and fages fear ; 
 
 In firm belief that J?ie will live for aye ; — 
 
 Will, young and ruddy, full of hope and cheer. 
 
 Live on through endlefs time 'mid all fhe holds moft dear. 
 
V. 
 
 npHE flow tired fwain drives lowing herd to ftall. 
 
 The weary tiller leads his team to reft. 
 
 Day, lingering, wanes. Soft Twilight fteals o'er all : 
 
 While Earth's great Gilder, finking in the Weft, 
 
 Illumes with crimfon Halltun-caftle's wall. 
 
 He whiles yet o'er yon trees with gorgeous flrow ; — 
 
 Goes, dazzling, down amid faint ocean-green : 
 
 Whence million clouds like waves of crimfon flow ; 
 
 And light a calm fmooth lake below. 
 
 While diftant houfes through the gloom are feen 
 
 With windows gleaming fiery flieen. — 
 
46 ©tjiia^ (i^rcontoollr. 
 
 Now fee yon hawthorn lane near Ergon's home : 
 
 Where two fond lovers, whifpering, flowly roam ; — 
 
 With long long dearing gaze, tell young Love's tale ; — 
 
 Sigh'd o'er to notes of plaintive nightingale. 
 
 It warbles yon : where hawthorns, rofes, bloom ; 
 
 And fill with fragrance meekening twilight-gloom : 
 
 Where honey-fuckles twine round flowery trees 
 
 So lightly ruftling in the balmy breeze. 
 
 Knows yon fweet bird the tale thofe lovers tell ? — 
 
 It hears their whifpers. All is lulling ftill 
 
 But tender bleating lamb ; or, murmuring rill ; 
 
 Or, humming beetle ; over-bubbling well ; 
 
 Far lowing herd ; 'mid peal of vefper-bell. 
 
 That founds from o'er the neighbouring dell : — 
 
 " What liftener now ?" — One rides deep-thoughtful by. 
 He feems to tell each Itep, as though for fear. — 
 The lovers think, he whiles there but to fpy ; 
 And fteal away thence through the next lane near. 
 
He heeds them not ; — is bound with awing fpell : — 
 At home again ! — He fees dear Halltun-towers ; — 
 Hears well-loved Merfey purl ; — ftill Even's bell, — 
 The fame old bell he heard in childhood's hours. — 
 
 He rides fo flow ; — draws in the loofen'd reins ; — 
 He knows not, why ; — fees crumbling monafterie 
 (Laid wafte of old by Thorkell's heathen Danes). — 
 He rides now by with tearful ee. 
 
 Its rooflefs walls, o'ergrown with ivy, reft. 
 There boyifli Erconwold was wont to play ; — 
 Climb its old broken arch to find a neft. 
 Why doth it gloom his brow to-day ? 
 
 He fees from there his home : — Lo, now is nigh ! 
 How bleft to gaze once more on all around ! 
 His heart is fo glad ! and yet — It fears — But why ? — 
 He rides as though his fteed trode holy ground : — 
 
48 iStiltft ©rcottlDOlir, 
 
 (Bvt. "Mymother!— Twelve long months from this dearfpot! 
 " My fitter ! — Heaven ! That we but meet again ! — 
 " Still nought ? — No blaze yet from yon lonely cot ? — 
 " Ah, dread betidings may have been fince then ! 
 
 " What fwart elf ralfed in me this gloomy thought ? — 
 "So glad this morn ! Why, Heart, fo full of fear? — 
 " Can all be well ? That hare — No found of aught? — 
 " They may be gone — may greet fome kinfman near: — " 
 
 He flops, — leaps from the faddle: — "No — no light? — 
 " None hear? None come? Ah! What? The garden-gate— 
 "How? Lock'd! Why thus? 'Twas never but at night ! 
 " O Heaven! Sad bodings! Dead! Too late! Too late!" 
 
 He climbs the rail ; — is at the door : — Vain hopes ! 
 He knocks;— None come?— He knocks again;— yet nought? 
 Looks through the lattice ; — breaks — The portal opes ! 
 He falls, lo, into the bofom of her he fought ! 
 
^ttiiae <J!?tronUji)Hr. 49 
 
 Oh blifs ! What blifs ! The goal is won ! 
 The mother has found her long-loft fon ! 
 So many ftorms and dangers braved ! 
 Now — Heaven be thank'd! — her child is faved! 
 
 iMoti^en " What ! Ercon dear ?— My fon ! My fon !— 
 " Thanks, O thou great — My darling one ! — 
 "What! Ercon?— O thou bleffed Power!— 
 " How have I pray'd to live this hour ! " — 
 
 Sweet gladnefs-tears flow with each kifs : 
 While Sethrid laughs; — would tell him fo fain. 
 In her broken fpeech, how happy flie is 
 At meeting " Ert " (as fhe calls him) again : 
 
 While his dog barks, gleefully leaping up. — 
 And now they talk o'er all that has been. 
 By the well fpread borde, by the brimming cup 
 Of the dear old morat fo rarely feen. — 
 
5° tS^iiae iErconiuoltr. 
 
 Oh ! What blifs, after roving alone. 
 To clafp in our arms fome darling one ! — 
 After the ftorms of the raging main. 
 To greet our friends and home again ! 
 
 What was his happinefs, eaft or weft. 
 To that which he finds in his mother's breaft ! 
 What are the fights of old glorious Rome 
 To that of his own dear Englifti home ! — 
 
VI. 
 
 rJOW lofty Halltun-caftle's high towers rife! 
 Their proud flag waving from yon rocky wall. 
 Look, how they feem to reach up to the fkies ; 
 While fcowling down on all. 
 
 Earl WoDENNOTH reigns yon: whofe might, 
 Whofe daring deeds all nations ken. 
 He hath fought Death in every fight. 
 Yet lived full fixty years and ten ; — 
 
 E 2 
 
S2 Ctftillit ISrconUJOlti. 
 
 Was tall and ftraight ; — ay, is fo now ; — 
 Can game or drink yet, dance or run ; — 
 Hath roaring voice and awing brow. 
 To frighten all he looks upon. 
 If any flare at aught he fay. 
 He roars a dreadful thundering oath. 
 His loves and wars be pafTd away ; 
 But even yet he's good at both. 
 His brother rued old works of evil ; — 
 As mournful pilgrim, went to Rome ; — 
 Unlike our Earl : who ftays at home ; 
 Nor cares a whit for pope or devil. 
 
 Our Earl will have that thou fhalt know 
 But that which was fo long ago. 
 All mighty things that hap to-day 
 Fleet over him as clouds away. 
 
©SUtrc IBt'fonluolIr. 53 
 
 His cloak and tunic, red as gore. 
 
 Be fhaped and gemm'd as thofe of yore. 
 
 His logic is of eafy ken: — 
 
 That Jhould be now ; for it was then .* 
 
 All tunics then were red as blood ; 
 
 And, therefore, green ones can't be good. 
 
 " When I was chief of our left wing," — 
 
 " When Danifli Canute fway'd the land," — 
 
 " When Ethelred was lord and king," — 
 
 " When lofel Edric had command," — 
 
 " When I was bound to fall or win," — 
 
 ('Tis thus his olden tales begin) 
 
 " When I was in the Witena-moot," — • 
 
 " When Edmund died, our old king's fon," — 
 
 None dare to ipeak or ftir a foot 
 
 Till all thefe wearying long long tales be done. 
 
54 (Sffiibt iSrcottUJOllr. 
 
 Who liften well and hear their end, 
 Will furely be his goodly friend ; 
 And welcome gueft at Hallentun. 
 
 And yet this knight of iron war 
 
 Is oft as gentle as a dove ; — 
 
 Is ever fo where ladies are : — 
 
 Their lion when they need his aid ; 
 
 Their lamb in peace: whom they can move 
 
 To mourn with them o'er forrow-love ; 
 
 And weep as tender-hearted maid. 
 
 His bofom glows with patriot-fire 
 
 When England fhields the Grood and True. 
 
 He moans her woes ; — gainftands with ire 
 
 The wrong that mighty villains do. 
 
 And though fo proud, is hard to none ; 
 
 Up-holding every helplefs one. 
 
 Such is our Earl of Hallentun. — 
 
VI I. 
 
 TO, yon our warrior-earl of by-gone date. 
 
 Amid old weapons, files a rufty {word. 
 
 His daughter, liking not fuch grate-grate-grate , 
 
 Is fet afar befide a gilden borde.* 
 
 She holds in lily-hand its filken cover. 
 
 And broiders there a lady with her lover. 
 
 She looks — " Ha ! Who comes up ?" — She hurries away ; — 
 Would fhun fome knight; — goes quickly thence to her bower. 
 
 ' Table. 
 
s6 iSffilbe l^vconiaoUf, 
 
 She may have feen him ere, — I cannot fay, — 
 Have met at mafs ; or, peep'd from yon high tower. 
 But why fo flee ? — 
 
 Now none is there fave our old Earl the Bold. 
 The door is open'd ; — 'Tis but Erconwold. 
 
 Yet high-born Woden rifes ; — is Co fain 
 
 To gripe a long-fought will, which Ercon bears ; — 
 
 To look on all from our good pope and Spain ; — . 
 
 Now roars in a rage ; — cries " O Saint Chad !" and fwears 
 
 As Ercon fays, the brother comes not home ; 
 
 But ftays, to be poor Cluniac in Rome. 
 
 But now his oaths and fudden anger end. 
 
 He takes a golden ring of by-gone days ; — 
 
 Dights Ergon's arm with it; — now calls him, " Friend;" — 
 
 Gives many thanks and fweet high-founding praife. 
 
 Now dropping into talk of Ofmer's head ; 
 
 Of Edric's wiles ; of how Dane Canute fled : — 
 
(fffiiltre iSwottlMOHr. 57 
 
 (0at*I* " Our Englifh there were eighty thoufand men /" 
 (0W," Indeed, my lord?" 
 
 (jfarl. " My blood! I fay but right!— 
 
 " What glorious troop ! Saint Chad ! — I fay again, — 
 " I tell thee, — On my troth, as worthy knight, 
 " As Hallturis earl, — Such was our glory then ! 
 " Yes, Erc, believe me, — Ninety thoufand men!" 
 
 He rattles on, as wearying and dree 
 As any broken ever-dinging bell : — 
 (Ufarl* " For all thou'ft done, I'll make a man of thee. 
 
 " Join our bold troop, lad ! Bear that old fword well! 
 " Get thee a helmet! By the Holy Rood, 
 " Who is no warrior, never can be good! 
 
 " 'Tis our craft, Erc, that leads to Glory's way. 
 " Thou'lt rife thereby to fhield Great Alfred's land; — 
 " To mighty thane; — Who knows? — taking fome day ! 
 
s8s8 ©fttlBc iEtconiMOHr. 
 
 " Doft hear me, yougling? Ha! I've fuch a band! 
 " Thou'rt one of It! I'll make thee— By the Word!- 
 " As good a man as ever Jwang a /word!" 
 
 He prates on thus till youthful Ergon's brain 
 Grows raving wild, and dreams of nought but fame ; 
 Believing truly, he was born to reign; — 
 To write in Time's old book a deathlefs name. 
 How foon our high Earl maddens that young head 
 Which fet at nought what lowly Wilfrid faid ! 
 
t»f)at happens 
 
 Cleben Jlontjs iLater* 
 
VIII. 
 
 "\X7'H AT fliouts from yonder field ! where thoufands are 
 With fpears and helmets glittering in the fun ; — 
 With waving banners. Some, lo, march ; fome run ; 
 Some beat the drum : — 
 What toil to learn the killing craft of war ! — 
 
 'Tis light to ken amid the crowd 
 
 Our daring Earl of Hallentun ; — 
 
 To fee him range them, Ihouting loud 
 
 cc Stop!"—" Holy Chad!"—" Aha!"—" Well done!"— 
 
62 62 cr^iia^ fErconUioltr. 
 
 But who can tell his praife from blame ? 
 Both, given fo roughly, feem the fame. — 
 
 We faw Erc come from foreign land. 
 
 Ten moons have waned. Behold him now, — 
 
 See warlike Erc, with helm on brow. 
 
 The higheft in our fearlefs band. 
 
 Our Earl now calls him, " Friend," — " My fon," 
 
 And bids him oft to Hallentun. 
 
 This makes him ftrut and look fo proud, — 
 
 So hated by yon envious crowd. 
 
 He yearns now but for rank and might; 
 And prays that Norman William come; — 
 Can dream of nought but raging fight. 
 Of clalhing weapons, beating drum. 
 Of ftorming towns, of raifing mound ; — 
 How foon young minds are whirl'd around! 
 
Now all is good, all muft be done. 
 
 That pleafe our Earl of Hallentun. 
 
 An old faw taught ('Tis ever new 
 
 By telling what is always true) : — 
 
 One little head fo crack' d or mad 
 
 Can make ten thoufand more as bad. 
 
 He'd like above all things to fee 
 
 The Norman fleet come near our fliore 
 
 (Where, many fay, it foon will be) : — 
 
 Old Woden's creed hath changed him fo! 
 
 Our Earl's in him. He thinks no more 
 
 As Ercon thought a year ago, 
 
 When Odda came with him from Spain. 
 
 The laughing monk, the cottage fair. 
 
 So pleafing then, were foolifh now ; 
 
 For love of fame hath whirl'd his brain ; — 
 
 Stirr'd up his mind to fret for glare. 
 
 Eagle Ambition glooms his brow. 
 
^4 ^ffiiae JSrcDntooia. 
 
 Now thoughtful Ercon leaves yon warlike plain ; — 
 Thus fpeaking with himfelf, goes flowly home again : — 
 
 (0lt,"To come to dull? — Why, then, is all our ftrife?— 
 " Our rock-built caftles — nothing, nothing lafts ? 
 "This huzzing ftream, loud bubbling tide, of life; — 
 "Our wealthy havens forefted with mails; — 
 " Muft all fo fhadow-like once fleet away? — 
 " Be but a tale? — So fays Time's yefterday! — 
 " Ah, how the foul fhrinks at this lurking thought ! — 
 " This being and not being ! — "There's the fin ; 
 " For if we rightly trow'd that all we fought, 
 " Were 'yond the grave, why ftrive fo here to win? — 
 " We'd dread not then this coming here to nought; 
 " Nor fag for that we hoped fo foon to find : — 
 " Thus were an end to fevers of the mind ! — 
 " But lurking Untrufl: of what yon be found, 
 " Makes us fo fret to jump o'er mortal bound; 
 
Ci)tltie ISt-conluolli. 65 
 
 " And leave our being in this world behind; — 
 
 " Makes us fo grafping here, in fpite of creed, 
 
 " E'er fpurring on to toil and daring deed; — 
 
 " Ay, oft to monftrous ills and bloody crime : 
 
 " That, finding nothing in yon unknown clime, 
 
 " (Grimmeft of thoughts, which fiends would bid us heed!) 
 
 "We here may tower o'er all-down-gulping Time; 
 
 " And have a name for after-men to read 
 
 " Yet-Whatis Erc ?~The Bold Earl's friend:-Nought won ! 
 " 'Tis nought at all ! — My Sword ! More muft be done ! — 
 " O, let Duke William and his Normans come! 
 " Earl Harold wears a crown; — he, cowherd's fon! 
 *' What may not, then, the friend of Hallentun?" — 
 
 Erc reaches thus his lowly home. — 
 
IX. 
 
 iltii JUiditijgy^Mali 
 
 "T'lS awing midnight. — Look without, and eye 
 Yon lonely fhore lit up with full moon's ray: 
 Where rippled waters, filvery beaming, flow 
 Beneath the ftarry calm unclouded fky. 
 Night wears her glittering robe to rival Day. 
 Where bulging rocks be fliadow'd not below. 
 The pearly fand is like to moonlit fnow. 
 
 F 2 
 
68 ffiljiltr^ iBrcottUJOia. 
 
 All is fo ftlll. Ye hear but murmuring wave ; — 
 
 The fea-bird croak; — far wild beaft howl or yell.- 
 
 Now Halltun's heavy bell 
 
 Tolls deep flow dolefome knell; — 
 
 Like that toll'd o'er the grave : — 
 
 Dread founding through the diftant dell : — 
 
 It ftops, — hath toll'd out twelve. — 
 
 Was that a footftep? — What dark form comes yon? — 
 
 What monfter fliaped as man hies over the ftrand? — 
 
 Wrapp'd up in fwarthy mantle, hurrying on; 
 
 With heavy trample, dafhing the pebbles and fand? — 
 
 How quickly it haftens along! — What gloomful one! — 
 
 Like man; — yet not; — fo grimly dark and dread. 
 
 But follow'd by long black fhadow flickering with each tread !- 
 
'Tis near yon moonlit rock. — It goes a way 
 That leaves the ihore and, riling fteep on high, 
 Leads up to Halltun's craggy towering height. 
 There man nor horfe dare go but when 'tis day. 
 For dread of howling wolves, of Grendel's cry. 
 Of baneful witches, elves, or moaning fprite. 
 Yon dark ihape fears not, being grim as they. — 
 
 It rifes higher, having, on the right, 
 
 A cliff whofe peak would reach the filvering Iky. 
 
 Thence beetling huge out-bulging rocks of white 
 
 Look down, and feem to fall. 
 
 Yon wanderer underneath, now hurrying by. 
 
 Hears ftartled eagle fcream; and wild goat call.. 
 
 While, on the left, a frightful fteep — 
 
 A gulf too dread for human eye 
 
 Yawns, endlefs deep. — 
 
7c 70 (jrijiHre O^rfonlUDltr. 
 
 It hurries, mounting high till yon fteep way 
 Ends, curving left. There mouldering caftle is. 
 Its moonlit towers in ivy's green array 
 Hang, tottering, o'er that frightful precipice. 
 A tyrant-lord dwelt there in by-gone day. 
 He, jealous of his lady's friendly kifs, 
 Hurl'd down the fair. 'Tis faid, her rueful fprite 
 Is heard to moan nigh thofe drear walls at night. 
 
 Yon dark form, fweeping by, hears hooting owl; — 
 
 Now goes an even path. There, on the right, 
 
 A barren heath lies boundlefs to the fight: 
 
 Where ravens croak; and lank wolves, prowling, howl;- 
 
 The ghoft-world's fun beams bright. 
 
 But whither flee if nigh yon greedy wolf? 
 
 The left edge of the foot-path is the brink 
 
 Of that deep yawning gulf. — 
 
(Sftiltit iZvconiooitf* 71 
 
 Yon muffled fhape can have nor heart nor mind, 
 So dafhing forward o'er that narrow way. 
 With fable mantle waving in the wind ; — 
 Now haftening by yon tree. A fkeleton 
 Hangs down there lit with ghaftly ray. — 
 
 'Tis pafl the heath ; — Iweeps now with quickening pace 
 Along a foreft ; having, on the left. 
 The dreadful gulf: — comes now to higher ground. 
 Thence raging torrent, ftraight, with moonlit foam,^ 
 Runs dafhing down ; and, rufhing onward, pours 
 Into the deep abyfs : — How dread it roars 
 'Mid hollow howling from the foreft near ! 
 While o'er the foamy gap through which it flows. 
 On narrow plank, yon fearlefs wanderer goes. — 
 
 It haftens on, as though it ne'er would ftay. 
 
 Along the difmal foreft. — What is yon? 
 
 It ftops. That road is call'd, " The Witches' Way." 
 
7z (SijiiOt ©wontooin. 
 
 It opes a cavern-door. Before a lamp. 
 
 An aged man with bald head, long gray beard. 
 
 In white fkin-garment, gazes on a book. 
 
 'TIs KoRMAK ; 'tis that old Icelandic Skald * 
 
 So famed in England for true prophecy i 
 
 Who hath outlived himfelf — his loves and hates : 
 
 Who, tired of our old-world, hath built him there 
 
 A world of his own kind ; and peopled it 
 
 With ghoftly beings, phantoms of his brain : 
 
 Who looks (or, weens fo) into life to be. 
 
 Communing with the fouls of men long dead ; — 
 
 Hathwalk'd through Heaven and Hell ;— feen how men there 
 
 Live on in weal or woe their endlefs day. 
 
 He knows no death. 'Tis meanlefs word to him : 
 
 Who holds that life ne'er ends ; — that dying is 
 
 To live as now he lives, and loves to live. 
 
 * Pronounce the a ftiort as in the word Callous ; — as in French Aller, 
 German Bald. * 
 
(SUltit iSrcoitUJoltr. 73 
 
 But yon dark fhape? — It throws the cloak — Behold! 
 'Tis Erconwold ! — 
 
 ilOl% What feekeft here ? 
 
 (Bvt* My reji. 
 
 3^01% What forrow-worm can gnaw fo young a breaft? 
 What doth your ill world now that Youth fo foon 
 Muft droop, and flee to haunts that fright the moon? 
 What, elvifh mood, — what fifel * bloody crime 
 Makes thee to wander at this unked time ? — 
 To walk the gray one's f road like outlaw'd thrall ? — 
 To come where fpae-wivesj dwell, and ling-eels§ crawl? 
 Love-blinking maid will make thee forrow lefs. 
 There's nought for ihee in this drear unkednefs. 
 (QVt* What ftate of man is that wherein the mind. 
 
 For want of forrows, makes them ? — when it raifes 
 A hell within itfelf ; and real woes, 
 
 * Horrible (z fliort). f The wolf. I Witches. § Serpents. 
 
74 <Stt)iHit asrtonU)oItr« 
 
 That call it thence, come like to cheering angels ? — 
 When friends feem foes ? — when 'twere a childifh play 
 To dare the raging lion ? 
 
 l^Ot* 'Tis a madnefs. 
 
 (Bvt* Dark weening hath fo weigh'd me down of late; 
 Making my mind-ftream overflow its bank. 
 And run to wafte ! How flee from this drear fl:ate ? 
 
 ^01% Get thee a wife and feven children. 
 
 (f£tt. Ah!— 
 
 I dreamt an ill dream ; — fince, have had no reft. 
 Deep thinking on it fet my brain a-whirl. 
 I will'd, at laft, to come ; and bare to thee 
 The hidden fnake that curls within my breaft ; — 
 
 Eor* Say on ;— 
 
 (BVC* To know my dream's foreboding. 
 
 mor. Well? 
 
 What was thy dream ? Stand far away : — Now tell. 
 
©tjillie lErconVuoltr. 75 
 
 (Bvt* I flood upon an oak. which, floating, lay 
 Amid a lake. All near was ftill and lone. 
 'Twas night, — but fuch a night as fliamed the day. 
 Blue moonlit flcy, full glittering gold-ftars, fhone 
 Down o'er the water. It, fmooth pearly way. 
 Was girt from all with high dark hills of fhone ; 
 With trees behind of every fhape and hue; — 
 Like fhades of monfters on the fky of blue. — 
 
 I, gazing thence, beheld an ifle which lay 
 In that bright lake. 'Twas clouded o'er and drear. 
 High hills and trees withholding every ray. 
 'Twas wintery dark while all around was clear. 
 I dreamt, it had been fo from Time's firft day ; — 
 That nought of life e'er trode its earth for fear 
 Of fome dire end, — of that eternal gloom 
 Which hover'd there 'mid ftillnefs of the tomb. — 
 
76 (HtfiHit iBtconkDoHi. 
 
 I look'd then down. The fmooth clear water feem'd 
 Like fhining glafs. The heavens fhone there below 
 As deep deep gulf of light : wherein all gleam'd. 
 Full glittering ftars, with clouds like moonlit fnow. 
 I, gazing, mufed till fuddenly from that oak 
 I fell, whirling, into the deep gulf; — fcream'd; — 
 
 And then awoke. — 
 
 / 
 
 I flept, and dreamt again. Methought, I ftray'd 
 O'er that lone ifle ; — faw there in twilight-gloom 
 Woods, rocks, and caverns ; haunts of elves and fprites ; 
 Church-yards of old full sunken mofly tombs ; — 
 Saw, 'mid the mouldering bones, live grizzly rats ; 
 Old broken fwords and goblets ; flow, long, crawling 
 Big glutted worms ; and lank wolves prowl around. 
 There, too, were ftalking rueful fhapes of men 
 In long black palls : whofe leers were like to thofe 
 Of dried up mummies. Yet they feem'd not old. 
 
ifffjiltic iErconUJOlIi. n 
 
 As flafh'd their eye from out its hollow cave ; 
 
 Asj from their mouldering brow, o'er fhrunken cheek, 
 
 Long raven-locks In youthful frefhnefs roll'd. 
 
 Head-drooping, fad, they walk'd. Each was alone ; — 
 
 Ne'er feem'd to know his brother ; nor to reck 
 
 Of aught around. While all was ftill — 
 
 Still as at Death's beheft. 
 
 And there I faw the wreck of kingly greatnefs ; — 
 
 Old broken fceptres, crowns ; high tottering halls. 
 
 Where crumbling Time in awing ftillnefs reign'd. 
 
 I enter'd one of them. Shields, rufty weapons 
 
 Hung there on black old walls : while, o'er the ground, 
 
 Trod down in tatters, lay the Saxon flag. 
 
 I turn'd — Behold, a fire-eyed fkeleton. 
 
 Stretching its bony arm, held forth a crown ; 
 
 While thoufands groan'd " Hail, Erconwold, our King!" 
 
 I woke ; — trembling, forfook my couch. 
 
78 dtftiVae iEwonUJOUr. 
 
 ^Or» Thy fpirit-man will leave his dark fhade here ! 
 
 Set not thine eyes on me ! Nay, come not near !- 
 Now mark my words : — 
 
 Thou faweft in that ifle of woe 
 What England foon will be. 
 All will be held by wolvifh foe 
 Ere two fhort winters flee. 
 Though lowly born, 
 Thou may'ft be king 
 If thou ne'er do one liuk thing : 
 Which done, thou'lt mourn. 
 dSl't* O what, then ? What ? 
 2^01% Heed that I fay, — 
 
 j^t ley/a or la^ingi 
 e^a at dre-pa or droma. 
 Now fare thy way. 
 (^VU Speak, friend ! 
 
Itor* No more ! Bide not at Hallentun ! 
 
 Hence ! Go with Him who made the fun ! — (6) 
 
 Erc bids in vain. The feer will anfwer nought. — 
 Yon dark fhape leaves the myftic fkald of fame ; — 
 Goes flowly, full of gloom and thought, 
 The dreary way it came.— 
 
X. 
 
 i;h4 <?«n f0 mail. 
 
 ''T'lS dead of night. Sleep holds o'er all her wand. 
 Nought breaks her whifpers but the watch-dog's bark; 
 Or, moan of waves on Merfey's gloomy ftrand. — 
 Now all Is ftill. — 
 
 Yon road was dark. 
 What fhines now there through the cloud of the night ? — 
 Now thoufand blazing torches light — 
 Steel armour and helmets gliften afar! — 
 
 G 
 
82 mniat ©woniDoia. 
 
 What legions of war! They, trampling, come 
 
 With hafty march to the loud drum! drum! — 
 
 What cheering Ihouts of yon glittering throng ! — 
 
 Now war-horfes, clattering, gallop along! — 
 
 What clafli of weapons ! — Now bugles found ! — 
 
 Awake ! — It is — The war-drum's nigh ! 
 
 The naked iword is borne around 
 
 With fpear and flag of bloody dye! 
 
 " To war ! To war !" yon legions cry, 
 
 " For Norway's King's on Englifh ground; — 
 
 " Is now at York; — has there unfurl'd 
 
 " His deathful ' Harrower of the World.' 
 
 " Up, England! Wilt thou be his thrall? — 
 
 " Be trampled down? Lo! with him are 
 
 " Thy fleeky friends. Have at them all! — 
 
 " At thofe fo near, and thofe afar! 
 
 " Up, England! Wake! To war! To war! — 
 
 " Thefe grudging foes! They ween that we 
 
(Urtillif lErconbDOlIi. 83 
 
 " Will let them harrow as they would! — 
 
 " Thus trample down the Great and Free, 
 
 " The Fair and True, the High and Good! 
 
 " They yet fhall know, ere this can be, 
 
 " We'll give our laft dear drop of blood! 
 
 " If any 'mong us feel not thus, 
 
 " Then hang him on the firfl; old tree ! 
 
 " The hilding fhall not dwell with us ! 
 
 " Out with the foes we feed at home, 
 
 " Who love peace but for reft or mart! 
 
 " Out with the friends and flaves of Rome, 
 
 " In whom ne'er beat an Englifh heart! 
 
 " Firft, drive out them! — the daftard fpies! 
 
 " Up, Englifhmen! Awake! Arife! 
 
 " Quick follow us hence to glorious fight 
 
 " For England, Freedom, God, and Right!" — 
 
 " Away! Away!" — 
 
 G 2 
 
84 ^t)ilt>t iSrcottU)OH>. 
 
 With lightning-fpeed. 
 Through the torch-lit road, flies the fiery fteed, 
 Quick making the ftones that it dafhes o'er flaih; 
 As the weapons clafh ; 
 And the minfter-bell. 
 Through the echoing dell, 
 'Mid the fliouts and yell. 
 Tolls loud its deep dread awful knell. 
 Awakening all with quick ftart; — 
 And now the warrior grafps his fword. 
 The weakling liftens with quivering heart. 
 Fear-ftricken raifers clutch their hoard: 
 While villains who have nought to lofe, 
 Now lawlefs, merrily hail the news. 
 But fuch as dream that man may rife 
 And foar as blefled angel, god-like wife; 
 With all that love fair Peace for gain, 
 Curfe war as work of madman's brain. 
 
(ttfilXft ©rroittooHr. ss 
 
 The mother feeks her babe, and faints. 
 Our whining monks invoke their faints. 
 But Ercon quick with his bandfmen run 
 To roufe our Earl of Hallentun. — 
 
 King Harold's brother, — Tostig hight. 
 Hence driven, join'd a foreign band; — 
 Now comes with Northern foes to fight 
 Againft his race and fatherland.^ — 
 
 He dies the death moft dire and grim 
 Who murderous takes his brother's life; 
 What, then, fhall be the doom o'er him 
 Who fills the world with bloody ftrife! — 
 Who, but to win a crown or name, — 
 To prove himfelf moft great or wife. 
 Blows evil embers into flame; — 
 Makes millions againft millions rifel 
 
86 «rf)iiii« iSwonujom. 
 
 Woe rack him who thus ufes might ! 
 
 Accurfed be his fiendifh fpells! 
 
 That make the blooming fields to blight. 
 
 And merry chimes to dolefome knells; 
 
 That foul the Pure, root up the Good; — 
 
 Make tender mother tear her young; — 
 
 Old doting men grow tiger-ftrong 
 
 In raging for their neighbour's blood. — 
 
XL 
 
 ftat th^ §0li (^K\l does Ulltl[n 
 
 "^^OW Ercon is at Hallentun. 
 He tells our Earl how Norway's band 
 With wreaking Tostig, Godwin's fon. 
 Are trampling down our Englifh land. 
 
 " Saint Chad !" bold Woden cries. " What more I 
 " This proves what I have always faid !" 
 But now he thinks on days of yore ; 
 And talks of Old King Ethelred :— 
 
88 (jti^iHie <i?fconta>oHi. 
 
 " Sit down. I'll teach thee how to fhodt, 
 " That never once an arrow fail. 
 " When I was in the Witena-moot," — 
 All ends thus with a long old tale. 
 
 But fiery hafting Erconwold 
 
 StampSj — walks about, and ftrikes his head ; 
 
 For that our Chronicle of Old 
 
 Forgets fo foon a tale fo dread : — 
 
 Crf» " Heaven help us, Earl ! 'Twill foon be day ! 
 " The heathen wolves are prowling near. 
 " O let me head your troops, I pray, 
 " To fhield what is moft high and dear ! 
 
 " My bofom loathes this cankering reft : 
 " A fomething great is here, I feel ! 
 " So fiery burns here, in my breaft, 
 " The love to ftrive for England's weal !" 
 
^ftiUse iSicotttooia. 89 
 
 (0ai*L " Saint Chad ! Thou fhalt ! Here, give thy hand ! — 
 " A better war-cub ne'er was born ! 
 " Go, lead to York our goodly band. 
 " I'll follow thee to-morrow morn. 
 
 " Here, take this helm. 'Twill fit thy head : — 
 " Now, Whelps of War ! Go, do your work !" 
 Thus faith our Earl ; then hies to bed ; 
 But never gets fo far as York. 
 
XII. 
 
 jyrORKAR wails to Edwin :— " Woe ! 
 " Harold comes not with his men. 
 " Thus we cannot meet the foe. 
 " TosTiG will be lord again. 
 
 " Hie to Norway's King, and fay : — 
 " Let us ftill live hale and free ; 
 " Spare us ; and, at noon to-day, 
 " York will ope its gate to thee." — 
 
9^ (SffWOt iSWOttUJOia. 
 
 With this errand, Edwin goes; — 
 Finds the warriors holding Ting; — 
 Swordlefs, 'mid ten thoufand foes,, 
 Stands before the dreaded king. 
 
 Tall is he, — of towering height ; 
 Like the giant-earls of old ; 
 Clad in tunic welkin-bright, 
 Starr'd with gems and glittering gold. 
 
 Freyja's locks of golden hair 
 Deck this awing fon of War. 
 Crown'd he ftands, as Baldur fair. 
 Strong and bold as Afa-Thor. (7) 
 
 ClltPUU " MoRKAR, greeting, bids me fay : — 
 " Let us ftill live hale and free ; 
 " Spare us ; and, at noon to-day, 
 " York will ope its gate to thee." 
 
(SUl'ot iBvcoWmolo, 93 
 
 B&mg:* " Go thou. Tell North-humbria's Earl :— 
 *' Norway greets. Live hale and free. 
 " Yield ! Land-eydo * then fhall furl, 
 *' Help us, Odin, Villi, Ve ! 
 
 " Here, at Stamford-Bridge, we bide. 
 
 " Bring us pledges foon : if not, 
 
 " York will fall ere even-tide. 
 
 " This fhall be, fays Norway's Drot!" f 
 
 Clafliing fhields, they loudly fwear ; — 
 Each with hand on naked fword. — 
 Edwin goes ; — bids all be yare 
 Soon to meet their banifh'd lord. — 
 
 ■^ Land-ravager : his ftandard. f Lord, 
 
XIII. 
 
 mmi J0slaigi[K; kt n^M\ ^4 M^' 
 
 npHE Northmen, fo glad that York will yield. 
 
 Are merrily met In Stamford-Field. 
 
 Their heavy war-gear thrown away. 
 
 Some tumble and leap; fome gambol and play. 
 
 Some, refting on the funny green. 
 
 Still hear their harping fkald's old lay 
 
 On Baldur's death and heart-rent queen; — 
 
 How Frey gave up his wondrous fword; 
 
And Odur left his bride to pine. 
 
 While the king and his earls, at taeffle-board,* 
 
 Are merrily quaffing old wine. 
 
 But TosTiG? He can no-where reft. 
 
 A hellifh monfter racks his breaft. 
 
 'Tis call'd. Revenge. With gaze on high. 
 
 With knitted lips, ire-darting eye, 
 
 Faft clinched hand, he, ftamping, walks the heath 
 
 As if o'er poifoning fnakes he'd crufh to death. 
 
 " 'Tis time!" he cries to the king, " Away! 
 
 " No hoftages yet! Wafte here the day! 
 
 " Why hope for aught from yon fhuffling horde? 
 
 " I knew, the lofels could keep no word!" — 
 llmg* What haftens fo yon? — Look! 
 (E^Oft, What ?— I fee nought : —Where ?— 
 
 A cloud of duft? 
 
 If now — Great Thor ! If they're — 
 
 " Chefs. 
 
96 ^ffiVae ^vcon'moVf, 
 
 Coft. Some wandering reapers — 
 
 Wiin^, Saw'ft not ikai ? — Mefeems, — 
 
 Coft. 'Tis but an oxen-drove; — 
 
 ^I'ltg. Again it gleams ! 
 
 'Twas glittering fteel! 
 Coft. O king, it cannot be. 
 
 Some Englifh boors yon come to fpeak with thee 
 
 And ask of us — 
 Itmg, Seeft not? Art blind to day? — 
 
 Great Odin ! 'Tis — Let the bugle found ! 
 
 My fteed here! Quick! My helmet! Away! — 
 
 Out, out, Land-eydo! — Gather around! 
 
 " The foe! The foe!" 
 
 With lightning-fpeed. 
 
 The Viking flies on his raven fteed. 
 
 " The foe! The foe!" he calls aloud. 
 
 "^ The foe! The foe!" back echoes the crowd. 
 
(ti)iibe «ffi^t:conkuoHi. 97 
 
 Allj feeing their Valkirs o'er them fly. 
 Throng round their banner to win or die. — 
 
 Now drawn up in a half-moon line, 
 
 They fee our Englifh hurrying on; — 
 
 Our ftandard wave, our armour fhine, 
 
 Bright glifl:ening in the noon-day fun ;— 
 
 See, back of all, fo far, fo far, 
 
 A never-ending wave of war 
 
 Come rolling on them: 
 
 Yet, as high cliff on their dear ftrand 
 
 Looks down on raging fliorm beneath. 
 
 So they too fland; — 
 
 So look on death. 
 
 Their leader, bounding by them, fings 
 
 A lay on mighty deeds of old: — 
 
98 ^^um ustcontDdia. 
 
 i^tnSf* We lack our farks.* Yon glittering things 
 Were never for the Great and Bold. 
 We'll meet the Saxon weaklings thus. 
 And do what others ne'er have done. 
 Great Odin's eyef ftiines bright on us: 
 Enough is that for Norway's fon! 
 Bold Ragnar bids us fall or bedt! — 
 Why halt they yon ? — 
 The bedlings J fear ! — 
 But who be thefe? — They come to greet." 
 
 See twenty Saxon horfemen near, 
 All clad in fteel from helm to feet: — 
 
 3 ^ajfOlt. Where's Godwin's fon. Earl Tostig hight? 
 Coft. Lo, here am I! What will ye? Speak! 
 
 * Coat of Mail. f The Sun. 
 
 I An effeminate man. (Anglo-Saxon, Bedling.) 
 
^ajrOlt. Thus faith King Harold:— Ere the fight. 
 We bid our brother blin* to wreak; — 
 Hold out to him our friendly hand. 
 His rank again, — wealth, earldom, land. 
 With aught that knightly man may crave. 
 Coft. Fair words at loft! They're all ye bring? 
 But if I take them, what fhall have 
 My trufty friend here, Norway's King? 
 
 ^ajfOn. We've faid all. Earl. 'Tis all we can. 
 Let him go home and reft a ftound.f 
 Or, as he's fuch a high tall man. 
 We'll give him feven feet of ground; — 
 Coft. Then, rack my foul! if — Ride your way! 
 Hence! Bid my brother yare J to fight; 
 For none but liars foul fliall fay 
 That TosTiG ever brake his plight! 
 
 Ceafe. (Anglo-Saxon, Blinnan.) f A While. 
 
 X Make ready. (Anglo-Saxop, Gearwian-) 
 
 H 2 
 
loo (SftilOe iBrconUioIft. 
 
 So back to lording Harold! Hie! 
 Say-, Here I'll reign, or here I'll die I" 
 
 This having heard, the Saxons ride 
 Away again: — now tell our king. — 
 The Northmen wait; — ftand fide by fide 
 In clofe pack'd lines of great half-ring; 
 With two-edged long fwords glittering bright. 
 With fpears that thickly brifl:le high 
 (Steel foreft unto weening eye): 
 All yearning for the fight. — 
 
 Swords and armour nearer flafti; — 
 
 Ha! The drum! — 
 
 Now they come ! — 
 Come with clattering weapon-clafh ! 
 See yon thoufand horfemen fly 
 Ruftiing on in glittering gear! — 
 
iSftilbe IBvconiiJOto. 
 
 Now fo rilgh! — 
 . Now they rear! — 
 Crafhing, dafh 
 O'er the foemen's briftHng fpear 
 
 How yon hardy fons of War, 
 
 Firm as rock, 
 
 Stand the fhock! — 
 Driving every horfeman back, 
 Clafh their fhields in praife to Thor ! 
 
 Now the Saxon arrows fall, — 
 Showering, drop 'mid deathful wail ; 
 Battering 'gainft that human wall 
 Like a heavy ftorm of hail. — 
 
 On our Englifh ruih again; 
 And again are driven to flight. 
 Now the Northerns, over-fain, 
 Follow, raging for the fight! — • 
 
102 (fffttllre IBrcoittooltr. 
 
 Now their ranks are broken! Lo! 
 Back the horferhen fuddenly fly. 
 Hewing down the unwary foe, 
 Follow'd quick by the legions nigh ! 
 
 Ah! What moans! 
 
 Deathful groans 
 
 Slowly rife 
 
 'Mid the cries. 
 
 Shouts, and clafh ! 
 How yon fteeds, high bounding, dafh- 
 How the Living, raging, tread 
 O'er thofe bloody heaps of Dead! 
 
 Norway's men call " Odin! Thor!" 
 'Mid the wail and weapon-din. 
 Saxons dart their fnakes of war, * 
 Crying " On! We win] We win!" 
 
 * Arrows. (Anglo-Saxon, Hilde-nadre.) 
 
(SitiVac iBvcontjaoio. 103 
 
 Roaring, flows the battle-tide. 
 Death is there on every fide. 
 Thofe yet woundlefs raging tread 
 O'er the dying and the dead. 
 Each one weens, he came to Jlay; — 
 Ne'er was born to fall to-day. — 
 
 " Look!" cries Harold:—" Ha! Well done! 
 
 " Norway's dreaded flag is won ! 
 
 " Who is he fo young and bold?" — 
 
 " One, methinks, hight Erconwold." 
 
 " He fliall have our love; — But fain — 
 
 " Ho, there! Tostig! Hafl:e to him! Say, — 
 
 " We fhall win this glorious day, 
 
 " Yet thy brother bids again, — 
 
 "Offers friendly hand; — Away!" 
 
 Quickly his errand-bearer hies; — 
 Greeting Tostig, calls aloud. 
 
He, like angry demon, flies 
 Raging through the battle-crowd; — 
 Now, with gory fword in hand. 
 Sudden flops: — 
 
 Sm}^^*"'^ Earl, I hafte to fay: 
 
 We fhall win this glorious day ; 
 Yet our lord and king would be 
 Friendly with — 
 Coft. To Hell with thee ! 
 
 Vidtory, flave, or death for me ! " 
 
 How they bleed ! — 
 Groaning, die ! 
 And none will heed 
 Their deathful cry ; — 
 Viftorious Ihouts 
 Now rend the fky, 
 'Mid groanful wail ; — 
 What awful cries ! 
 
(StfWae ©rronUJoHi. 105 
 
 Odin's men begin to quail ; — * 
 Hey ! How our Englifh banner flies ! 
 While — Ah ! yonder — How they tread 
 Tiger-fiercely o'er the dead ! — 
 
 *' Win or die!" the Northerns roar, 
 " Heed not ghaftly Hela's calls ! 
 " Lovely Valkirs fly before, 
 " Beckoning us to blifllful halls !" — 
 
 Woe ! What woe ! 
 
 All is lofl: ! 
 
 How they fall ! — 
 
 Gafping, wring ! — 
 
 Striving with a mightier foe — 
 
 Death's grim King ! — 
 
 * Lofe courage. 
 
•o6 fiTijiltr^ &vcon\iioiO. 
 
 Now begins a fearful rout. ' 
 
 O'er the bridge, the foemen hie ; 
 While, with loud vidtorious fhout. 
 Following quick, our Englifh fly ; — 
 
 " Halt ! " — On the bridge, lo ! Norway's ruler ftands ;- 
 
 Waves boldly there his long fword dripping gore ; — 
 
 Full anger raging, calls his fleeing bands ; 
 
 And will not let a Saxon o'er. 
 
 " Hew him down !" — What giant-foe !- 
 Felling all he hap to meet ! 
 See there ! Every Angle blow 
 Lays a Saxon at his feet ! 
 
 All our arrows boot not here. 
 Flying back as though by fpell : 
 While our men begin to fear. 
 Yon mull be the King of Hell, 
 
crtjillrr iSirotttoJoHr. 107 
 
 Now ten more rufh on again. 
 Staggering with each blow he gives : — 
 Seven — now eight — now nine are flain ! 
 But the tenth ftill, fighting, lives ! 
 
 How they clafh their flaihing fteels, 
 Hearten'd by our cheering men ! — 
 Now — Aha ! The Viking reels ! — 
 Falls, — lo, ne'er to rife again ! 
 
 " What," afks Harold, " is his name ? 
 
 " Who's that one fo young and bold ? — 
 
 " Lion-heart ! It is the fame — 
 
 " 'Tis the fame Childe Erconwold ! 
 
 " He fhall have our raifing hand. 
 
 " Soon we'll make him Earl ; — But, on ! 
 
 " Drive the war-wolf* to the ftrand !" — 
 
 ' Deftroying army. (Anglo-Saxon, Here-wtilf.) 
 
108 <irt)tHie iSrfonUJOllr. 
 
 There Great Hardrada's, meeting Godwin's, fon 
 Kneels ; — lowly begs to leave our land. 
 This being boon'd, he raifes fail ; — now wends 
 To cliffy Norway, mourning thoufand friends 
 With the few left of their mighty band 
 
XIV. 
 
 /~\UR King and Earls walk o'er the corfe-deck'dground:-- 
 
 i^inS» They feem'to grin at us! — What death around! — 
 Death on thefe faces fo well known! — fo dear! — 
 This morn, all funny bright with hope and cheer ! — 
 Foh! Bloodyheaps!— ButTosTiG?— Crr! What groan! 
 
 WiitlQ* Back! — O Heaven! There — there he lies! 
 
 Grim ghaftly leer! Thofe angry rolling eyes! 
 
no ^ffiXbt iSwonlBOltr. 
 
 That gory head cold pillow'd on mofly ftone! — 
 
 Look up, my brother! Look on Harold! 
 Coft. Thou!— 
 
 Avaunt ! 
 llinff* Shrink — Frown not thus at laft ! 
 
 Coft. Boaft now ! 
 
 Up with the plume !— Dire pang !— Wilt twit us,— Eh ? 
 
 Wilt overcrow? To-morrow is a day; — 
 
 Ye racking wounds! Ah!— Hence! Why prowl ye here ? 
 i&inff« O TosTiG, Tostig! — brother once fo dear! 
 
 Forget! Forgive! Feed this ill grudge no more! 
 
 Ah ! muft we — we, whom that fame kind one bore ; — 
 
 Same bofom cherifh'd ;— fame loved hearth gave cheer ; 
 
 By childhood's gambols, youth's fweet memory, dear; 
 
 We thus for ever funder ! Tostig! Oh! 
 
 How little thought our mother, 'twould be fo! 
 Coft» All for kind loveofmight!-of gold !- Woe! Woe !- 
 
 To-day, 'tis Tostig's turn to lofe and die. 
 
To-morrow, lording Harold, 'twill be thine! 
 The breeze wherein yon vidtory-banners fly, — 
 What pang ! Oh ! Oh !-The breeze- Ah ! HellifH pine ! ■ 
 All lofl for ever ! — Oh, thou racking fore ! — 
 That breeze, KingHAROLD,— it— mindTosTIG//^^«/— 
 It wafts, ha ! ha ! ha ! the Norman to yon fhore 
 With eighty thoufand men! — (17) 
 WiinS* Dead! Thus to die!— 
 
 Hence with him '.—Softly !— Go.— What more could I? 
 He fpurn'd my friendfhip twice :—Ah,fearful prophecy!— " 
 
 Our fheen prank'd earls, our fceptred lord full thought 
 
 And woe-foreboding gloom. 
 Slow follow Tostig's corfe that it be brought 
 
 To kingly tomb 
 
112 atuxae lZvcon\uolo, 
 
 'Tis night. Now friend and foe fleep on that ground. 
 O'er thofe cold ghaftly cheeks, the moon-beams play: 
 While lank wolves of the foreft howl around;. 
 And greedy ravens croak above their prey. 
 Who thought at noon, that, back of fuch fair day. 
 Night lower'd fo grim! — that this could ever be. 
 As on the funny green they gamed fo merrilie! — • > 
 
XV. 
 
 ^n\ littjg and his ^ouniiiL 
 
 '^OW Harold, fet on York's old king-ftool, hears 
 
 His wifeft earls aread.* They ftand around. 
 
 A hoary warrior there tells why he fears 
 
 That Normans foon will crofs our watery bound. 
 
 " But — how?" fays Harold ere the fpeech is done,— 
 " We fee not here Earl Wodennoth the Bold ?" 
 " He came not to the fight. King," anfwers one ; 
 " But fent inftead that young man, Erconwold." 
 
 ' Advife. 
 
" Young Erconwold ? — Ha ! he, we mind, who took 
 "HARDRADA'sflag. Go,bidhimcome.— Well? More! 
 "So, ween ye that thefe gales will bring the Duke ? 
 " He'll find it rather bleak on Humbria's fhore. 
 
 "But 'Dex le gart.' The South is warm and fair. 
 "He hath been waiting for enlivening Spring.* 
 " But make all ready. Earls. We'll meet him there;" — 
 Childe Er'con kneels before our fleering King: — 
 
 S^l'ttg, Whence art thou, friend ? 
 
 (^XU Near Halltun I was born. 
 
 ^ing*Say, where is Woden ? Why hath he not been ? 
 
 (0rf ♦ It was his mind, he faid, to come next morn ; — 
 
 * DifFering from liiftory, the poet makes the battle occur in Spring. 
 The Aftion of the Poem begins in the Spring of one year ; and ends, we^ 
 find, in that of the fecond following year. This will appear evident as the 
 reader proceeds. — Ed. 
 
iCftilOt (SvcorfmoVO. 115 
 
 2^l'lt3f»Oid men's to-morrows have long nights between. 
 Dun locks and fwarthy? Com'ft of Norman race? 
 Thofe fiery eyes have fuch a Franken dart. 
 ®rf*But where the Saxon is not in my face. 
 
 The more he Iways the fceptre in my heart ! 
 i^tn^* That likes us well ! — Nay, Earls ! why laugh ye thus ? — 
 May Heaven give England many a fon like thee ! 
 In little while, friend, thou ftialt hear from us ; — 
 Shalt learn at home what our high will may be. 
 Bid Woden make all ready for our foes. 
 And wait beheft. Go. Fare with God ! — 
 Now, Earls, to Lundenburg ! " 
 
 Thence Harold goes; 
 As, glittering, vicftory-proud, he waves his kingly rod. — 
 
 J 1 
 
XVI 
 
 
 npHE tidings are come to Hallentun! — 
 
 Oh, every heart is fo fain! 
 Away with our fears! The battle is wonL 
 
 Old England lives again ! 
 
 How bright is the day! How merry the bells I.' 
 How proudly our ftandard waves ! 
 
 Old monks forfake their lonely cells j 
 Man-hating men j their cavesl 
 
Now Weak and Hale, now Mean and High, 
 Now limping Old Age will roam; 
 
 For Ercon with his men are nigh, — 
 Will foon be in fight of home! 
 
 From near and far, on funny green. 
 
 All gather fo full of glee. 
 There maidens fair with lovers fheen 
 
 Go, chattering merrilie: 
 
 While others dance with joyful fpring 
 To the double pipe and lyre: 
 
 While harping gleemen cheery fing 
 The death of foes fo dire ; — 
 
 Tell how the heathen flag was won 
 
 By neighbour Erconwold; 
 How poor good Widow Hilda's fon 
 
 Slew king fo dread and bold 
 
«ri)iHi« iBtcottiuolH. 119 
 
 Our old men, while their children play, 
 
 Tell how times were and are. 
 Their daughters dream of wedding-day ; 
 
 Their fons, of glorious war. — 
 
 Glad ruddy farmers with their wives 
 
 Sit round the village-inn : 
 While gleemen throw high balls and knives ; — 
 
 Bear poles upon their chin. 
 
 A fkulk of friars wrangle warm 
 
 On Tostig's hate and wreak. 
 Good Hilda leans on Sethrid's arm. 
 
 And lifts to what they fpeak. 
 
 One, fhouting in her deafen'd ear. 
 
 Tells all that Erc has done. 
 How proudly beats her heart to hear 
 
 Such tidings of her fon ! — 
 
I20 at^iiot ISrtonU)Oltr« 
 
 Hear thofe who fpurn'd her Erconwold ; 
 
 And faidj he'd never mend; — 
 Hear all, before fo proud and cold. 
 
 Now claim him as their friend ! 
 
 Learn where to welcome ; — where to figh ; — 
 Where, flatter ; — where, defpife : 
 
 How low thy lords may fall ! How high 
 Thine underlings may rife ! — 
 
 Yon, — at his wine-borde fheen with gold. 
 
 Where gilded lions ftand, — 
 Is feated Woden noth the Bold, 
 
 With filver cup in hand. 
 
 He prates to Holcroft named, " The Proud:" 
 Whofe-head, fo deafen'd, whirls. 
 
 He'd rather walk among the crowd ; 
 Or, hear yon harping girls. 
 
mSUliit IBrconUjoItr. 121 
 
 A facret with two gentle-hawks 
 
 Perch o'er a fleeping hound. 
 Its keeper, as Earl Woden talks. 
 
 Makes cornicinus found. 
 
 Lord HoLCROFT eyes the man with hate: 
 Whoj having ears, fhould think : 
 
 That, when our Earl begins to prate. 
 There is no time to drink. 
 
 " Young Erc," he roars, " was bolder than 
 
 •' The moft in that poor fight. 
 " Good Heaven, all know, hath made the man ; 
 
 " But / have made the knight .'" — 
 
 Young ladies goodly dight and fair. 
 
 Are at the porch beneath. 
 Melitha,* Bold Earl's daughter, there. 
 
 In filence, twines a wreath. 
 
 ^ Pronounce Meleetha. 
 
122 CJDilbe iStron^oItr. 
 
 She binds the twigs with golden thread 
 
 And ties of fairy fpell. 
 Some ween, it is for Ergon's head ; 
 
 But that fhe will not tell : — 
 
 " Ha! Hearken! — It is — They come! they come!" 
 What fhouting! What running to meet! 
 
 All hear the marching and loud drum I drum! 
 Each would be the firft to greet. — '' 
 
 Now yon, fome lift Erg off the way; — 
 
 . Now fet him in a chair 
 Bedight with flowers and cherry-bay; — 
 Now carry him hither from there! 
 
 What waving kerchiefs and happy leers 
 To greet the poor Widow's fon ! — 
 
 Ha ! Now, with loud fky-rending cheers. 
 They come to Hallentun ! 
 
CttjUBe ISrwntoolli, 123 
 
 Our Earl and wealthy Holcroft go 
 
 Among the crowd to greet. 
 There, while they bid him welcome, lo ! 
 
 A wreath falls at his feet ! 
 
 Some take it up ; — now deck his brow : 
 While drums and bugles found. 
 
 Glad Ercon, wondering, fain would know 
 By what kind hand 'twas wound. 
 
 They fet him in the chair again ; — 
 Leave banner-dight Hallentun. 
 
 His mother comes, fo proud and fain. 
 To meet her darling fon. 
 
 She winds him in her arms. Glad tears 
 Flow down her aged jole : — 
 0iOtf)tt* " How idle were my thoufand fears ! — 
 " O thou, my Life ! — my Soul ! — 
 
124 ffifiiHrc iBWDttVDOlIr. 
 
 " How good is Heaven ! — The heathen foe 
 "Spared all moft dear to me ! — 
 
 "My darling Erc ! I dreaded fo , 
 " This day would never be ! " 
 
 (SSVt* "Good mother ! now thy cares fhall end. 
 " Now let thy heart be fain ! 
 "For Harold, our King, calls Ercon ^ Friend ;'- 
 "Will make me foon his thane ! 
 
 "Oh, thou fhalt have fuch goodly things ! — 
 "A gairifh houfe with land ! — 
 
 "Buy filky kirtles ! — golden rings 
 " To dight this darling hand ! 
 
 "Yet foon again I muft away 
 
 " If Normans tread our fliore ; 
 
 "But, after that, will be thy ftay ; 
 "And ne'er forfake thee more. 
 
" Thy life fhall thus fo happily end 
 
 " Nor e'er know toil again ; 
 *'For Harold, our king, is now my friend; 
 
 "And I fhall be his thane !"— 
 
 They tear him from her arms away. 
 Thus leaving half unfaid ; — 
 Now feaft and revel. Sore I dread 
 
 That all they've done for him to-day. 
 Will madden his young head. — 
 
XVII. 
 
 E^RCj feated near our Earl, tries oft to tell 
 
 What Harold faid ; and how Hardrada fell. 
 
 This is not eafy. Ere one part be told. 
 
 He's ftopp'd ; — mull hear a long long tale of old : 
 
 For all that is and will be, — all fo new. 
 
 When proved by what hath been, is furely true. 
 
 Some good old fire learn'd more than all can know; 
 
 Said, " This is right ;" it, therefore, muft be fo. 
 
128 <SftiVat ISrroniiJOllr. 
 
 How many Earls of Hallentun we boaft ! 
 What garden hath no weeds ? What art, no hoft 
 Of fuch as will not let our Youth work on ; 
 Nor find a road which they have never gone ? — 
 But look at Erc, — Ha ! — has not ended yet ! 
 Our Earl is — Sudden he ftarts : — 
 CarL " '^kis Harold bade ? 
 
 " ' Old men's to-morrows have long nights between ' 
 "Said Harold thatP The boor! Nowrage,S^- Chad ! 
 "This fon of a cowherd ! He makes me fo mad !" 
 
 He, ftamping out ire, goes, muttering, quick to & fro. — 
 
 His friend begins again : — 
 
 CarL "But tell me,— Get up ! 
 
 "How flood the king of Norway ? So ? — or, fo ?" — 
 em "So, Earl,—" 
 
 (0arU " Unlheathe !— Stand out !— Now ward thee, fon !— 
 "Well done! Thenfo?"— 
 
Uttfilfft ^vcorVoaolts, 129 
 
 (&tt* "Ay, Earl." 
 
 (farL " Strike .'—Well !— Well done ! 
 
 "Thenfo?-Mind! /am theking;-Nowfor it !-Goo«/" 
 
 Lo, fee how rafh 
 He ftrikes at Erc ! — 
 Stamps on the boards ! 
 ■ Harkj how their fwords. 
 Quick flafhing, clalh ! 
 What fearful work ! 
 His fport is fo dread ! 
 Is that his play ? 
 In what other way 
 Would he cleave a head ? 
 How Erc now reels ! 
 Our Earl's old fire. 
 At claih of fteels. 
 Can blaze fo dire! 
 
 K 
 
130 iSttiU^t <!g«0ttU)0lDr* 
 
 What fearful game ! 
 His tiger tame 
 Now rages again ! 
 O dreadful blows. 
 Quick driving Ercon along the walls ! 
 Earl Woden fees now Canute the Dane! — 
 Now fights at Sherftone with thoufand foes ! 
 " Stop! flop!" Erc calls,— 
 " On ! on ! Saint Chad ! 
 " Die, Danifhdog!" 
 He, foaming, bawls ; — 
 " Stop, Earl! Art mad?" 
 Erc falls, — 
 Lies, feemingly, as dead as any log. 
 
 <BUVl* " ' Old men's to-morrows have long nights between!' 
 " See there! Aha! I ftill can break a head! — 
 " Am not caft oiF yet! — am as I have been! 
 " If Harold fpake it (which he never did), 
 
" Why come and tell ? They'd h^ve old Woden dead I— 
 "Melitha! Ho there! ho !-^This hero's k^w/ 
 "All chatter now but of our young one! — Ho! 
 "Melitha! Ho, I fay!" 
 
 Mtl* (Entering.) « Well, father? Who— 
 
 "Ah, what is there! — Saints! — Ergon!" 
 
 CarL " Here, girl! Stay! 
 
 "The carle hath fwoon'd. Bringwater. Quick ! Away!" 
 
 The lady goes. — Now Ergon opes his eyes; — 
 Looks wildly round : — 
 CarL "Ha, friend?"— 
 
 (BtU " I cannot rife." 
 
 (&WC\* " 'Twas done to teach thee ; — not, thou know'ft, in hate, 
 
 " Thou foughteft well, — right well." 
 (Situ " Ah !— O my head! " 
 
 (25arL " I had a rage to-day for clalhing fteel. 
 
 " Bide there awhile. Thou haft a bleeding pate, — 
 
 K 2 
 
132 <H:tiilti^ ©tconiDOlii. 
 
 " A fcratch — a little gap. It footi will heal ; — 
 " Ha ! HoLCROFT calls ! I muft go ! 'Tis late!" 
 
 Earl WoDENj hurrying thence, leaves Erc upon the floor. — 
 
 Small white hands ope the door. — 
 The lady with her maid are near him now ; — 
 Kneel ; — leaning o'er him, bathe his bleeding brow. 
 She, gazing, fmiles ; but ofter, pitying, fighs ; — 
 Now gives him wine ; — would know what caufed the fray. 
 Erc anfwers nought ; but flares with wondering eyes ; — 
 Looks on that face as though he'd look for aye. 
 But what our hero think, is more than I can fay. — 
 
XVIII, 
 
 (Srpntuoli, at hom^, ti^lh vshnt hi^ix^i 
 at Jallpttrn. 
 
 Crt, ■J»J'AY, heed not tha( wound. Mother dear ! 
 T/iere's none. My breaft — 
 The wound: — Heigh-ho ! 'Tis here ! 'tis here ! — 
 
 How fair ! — And her eyes ! — Blue,gleaming bright ! — 
 
 How kind they fmiled ! — 
 So full of love ! — of heavenly light ! 
 
J 34 ^ftilot iEwunUjoIir* 
 
 Her bofom ! — Oh, fo lily-fair ! — 
 
 It lean'd o'er mine ! 
 Her look ! — What pitying love was there ! 
 
 She, kneeling, figh'd " Poor Erconwold !" 
 
 And her fondling locks ! — 
 My dark ones twined with thofe of gold ! 
 
 Oh ! While that dear hand bathed my cheek. 
 
 She bade me tell — 
 I know not ! — Ah ! I could not fpeak ! 
 
 I lay as one 'mid fairy ground ; — 
 
 Heard in each word 
 But heavenly fweet enchanting found ! 
 
 That found ! — Oh, yet 'tis everywhere ! — 
 Ah ! Flitting fo lightly. 
 She left me there ! 
 
(ttiiot letcontDolDf. 135 
 
 iWotftf l\ Like go with like ! A higher one 
 
 Now woos the queen of Hallentun : 
 The proud Earl — 
 (Bvt* What ! Birib makes us high ? 
 
 Have kings made man ? 
 What is old Holcroft more than I? — 
 
 But hence ! Ah, here I cannot reft ! 
 
 Old Age chills all :— 
 Thou wilt not calm this anxious breaft ! — 
 
 High birth could win ? Proud Holcroft might; 
 
 Though, as our Earl, 
 He ftay'd at home and ftiunn'd the fight. 
 My fceptre's here ! — this, at my fide ! 
 JKoti^tr. Nay, boaft not thus. 'Tis wrong, my fon. 
 Our Earl could ihow not greater pride 
 In all the rank that he hath won. 
 Than Erc now fhows in having none. 
 
136 ffiijiKie ©wontooiu. 
 
 (Btt* Ah ! Fare thee well ! I'll to the wood ! — 
 My Sword ! Thou haft another creed. 
 T'hy great ones are the Great by Deed : — 
 Which ftain here is of kingly blood ? — 
 
 Thy lord is one 
 Who knows no rank but that of Good ! 
 
 l^Exii. 
 
XIX 
 
 wMle^ mucins tn th^ "oEooi 
 
 f^EIGH-HO! Shame, Erc! How childifh thou art grown! 
 What fweet gloom makes thee wander. thus alone? 
 And feek no more that toil'd for moft? — 
 
 That loved the beft?— 
 Nor heed if all be won or loft? — 
 No-where at reft! — 
 
138 (itttiltft ®^rfonU)Ollr. 
 
 Fame was fo dear! I tower'd fo high of late; — 
 Loved but the pomp of war, the lofty Great; 
 And her — My Mother! — Ah, fo good! 
 
 Now all is nought! 
 Now feek I but the lonefome wood. 
 Full pining thought! — 
 
 And yet can tell not — Heigh-ho ! — whence all came ! 
 What elf hath made the wild-foul'd Erc fo tame? 
 Thefe endlefs fighs, — this brow fo hot, — 
 
 This anxious breaft 
 Aye yearning for — I know not, what! 
 Ne'er let me reft. — 
 
 Yet 'tis not forrow! Nay! Nor grief nor care 
 Could pine me thus. 'Tis far more fweet to bear! — 
 So fweet ! It weans from all of yore ! 
 
 For thence I roam. 
 Glad fong and harp can cheer no more. 
 Nor friends nor home! — 
 
CfijilUe (H^rtontuolb. 139 
 
 But all I yearn for, — all, unwitting, fear. 
 Could one — Ah, ftill! — What fluttering heart is here! — 
 "Thou dar'ft to love that high-born fair? 
 
 It cannot be ! 
 Still, then ! Thou haft no grief or care ; — 
 Ah, farrow's me! 
 
 Oft have I heard of love. It comes not fo ; 
 For 'tis, our gleemen fay. Heaven's blifs below. 
 And Ihe — O, Erc! Love that high one? 
 
 Art mad and blind? 
 It is a fpell ! — fome ill craft, done 
 To gloom thy mind! — 
 
 She was not proud; — fo pitying kind! — Why, then, — ? 
 But if I went? — I'll look at her again! — 
 Ha! Show our Earl my creft? — 
 Which he hath never feen? — 
 
 Away! 'Tis beft! 
 But one more gaze at Halltun's queen ! 
 
 Then, Erc, thou'lt reft! \Exit. 
 
XX, 
 
 ''TpIS now when Earth appears in youthful pride; — 
 
 As fair young queen bedight with rofy pall. 
 
 'Tis now when Earth is Heaven's endearing bride ; — 
 
 Cheers drooping hope ; — breathes meekening love in all ; 
 
 When old hearts feel fome fire of by-gone day ; 
 
 And dream that Youth is yet not flown away : 
 
 When young ones bliflful beat; — find Heaven on earth ;- 
 
 Ween all the world full fong of love and mirth : — 
 
 Hail, gladdening Month ! Sweet May ! — 
 
'Tis calm foft Twilight's hour. The gentle breeze 
 Steals o'er yon garden full of blooming trees ; — 
 Sighs, whifpering faintly, through the ruftling leaves. 
 There lulling huzz of diftant ftream is heard ; — 
 Ha ! now the warbling of the plaintive bird ; — 
 Now, hum of beetles ; — now far vefper-bell ; — 
 Now bleat of tender lamb in neighbouring dell. 
 It is the hour of thought. It is the hour 
 When lovers' vows ileal through the fragrant air ; 
 And all, at coming Night, feems awed to prayer. 
 The lady of our fong whiles in her bower ; — 
 With harp held down, ftill, thoughtful, lingers there ; — 
 Sees how the fetting fun gilds o'er yon ruin'd tower: — 
 
 ^th " Before yon fun go thirty times fo down, 
 
 " I muft become that hated Holcroft's wife ; 
 " Or, bear for aye my cruel father's frown. 
 "Ah, Mother! Since thy death, how drear is life! — 
 " Cold Holcroft! O, my heart can ne'er be thine!" — 
 
ittijiUrp l&tconkDOlDf. 143 
 
 The lady weeps. 
 
 See ! Erc, all love and fear, 
 Is gazing there as on fome holy fhrine. 
 He dreads to come more near. — 
 
 Startled, fhe turns to hide her tearful eye. — 
 
 Bold Ergon kneels; — would afk — He can but figh; — 
 
 Now takes that little hand half drawn away ; — 
 
 There, in one kifs, fays all he yearns to fay. 
 
 But fhe would chide. The chiding ends in fighs ; — 
 
 In long kind loving gaze at kneeling Ergon's eyes : — 
 
 ;JM?I. Thou art come foon again ! Thy wound is worfe? — 
 Wilt ever have me for thy little nurfe ? — 
 Earl WoDENNOTH and Holcroft are away. 
 If any told them, — Oh ! What would they fay ! — 
 
144 aitjiltr^ iSrcottHn)l&, 
 
 Ha, little Mars ! I fhould — ay, will too chide ; 
 
 For LiTHA muft be foon Earl Holcroft's bride; — 
 mu Oh ! then— Loft ! loft ! 
 JHtl, Loft?— What?' 
 
 err* Oh! Oh! 
 
 JKel. He loves !— : 
 
 (0r(, Steel never wounded fo ! 
 
 That e'er I look'd on thee ! But yeftermorn. 
 Was Ercon bleft ! — 
 Jilf !♦ How foon art thou hopelorn ! — 
 
 So turn away from me ? — So hang thy head ? — 
 I mufi love Holcroft; — it, at leaft, is /aid; — 
 Was that unheard ? — Shall Litha tell thee more ? — 
 Why, Erc has never thought on love before ; — 
 Has never feen me ; — never figh'd ere now : 
 While I — Who twined a wreath to dight this brow ? 
 dt . What! 'Twas from thee?— OHea.ven\ Known but to-day! 
 What gem was mine ! — now found to lofe for aye ! 
 
€ttiH>e BvtonijaolXf, hs 
 
 JWtl. I oughf to love him, father fays : he's good. 
 It likes me more to fay : I mufi than would. 
 
 (Brt* Muft love him? — Never his, then! — BlefTed word ! — 
 By heavens, O never ! — never, by my fword ! 
 That one, one, fpeech can make or mar our reft ! 
 Ha ! What a world of woe falls from my breaft ! 
 And mine art thou? KxAme canft love? — Oh, blifs! — 
 What ! My Melitha ? Angel-hope were this ! 
 Say but, " "Dear Erc !" Who can be mightier then ? — 
 Who fteal my Love, my Life of life, again ? — 
 But idle aflcing ! That blue gem ! — That gaze ! — 
 They tell me Yes againft a million Nays ! 
 O Deareft ! O my Life ! While loving thus. 
 What world of Holcrofts e'er can funder us ! 
 
 :0ltl* Why, little prattler ! Words flow fweetly now. 
 Where was all this as late I bathed thy brow ? 
 
 (Bvt* In loving thee, I break the worldly link 
 
 That bound me down ; — feel now what angels think I, 
 
 L 
 
"46 dtttutft ©wDntoolii. 
 
 Ere, like a worm, I wallow'd on the fod ;^— 
 Saw thee, and lo! the cherub faw his God ! (8) 
 What blifs is love ! Can angels joy in more ? 
 What ill elf would not let us meet before ? 
 I eame — how often ! Thou wert aye fo near ? 
 Yet aye fo far ? — O ihou than worlds more dear ! 
 I wander'd hence ! — could leave my land to roam — 
 Leave all I yearn'd to love fo near my home ! 
 Ha ! Thou wert fault, thou darling one, of this : 
 Who didft not come, and bring me fo much blifs ! " 
 
 :JMtI»Heart-ftealer ! Teach cold Holcroft how to woo ; — 
 And yet — Teach not ; for then I'd love him too ! — 
 So, lofe my Erc ! How eafy it would be 
 To wed this eve if he were aught like thee ! 
 
 ^Vt* Give me that little ftraying lock of hair. 
 
 Thou wilt not need it : thou wilt bide as fair ; 
 But I fliail take a greater conqueft home 
 Than ever mighty Casfar did to Rome ! 
 
ist)U3ft isvcotmoio, 147 
 
 MtL What pretty flatterer !— Ha! Who rings fo the bell ? 
 My maid may tell — Alas ! How foon farewell ! 
 But, if thou love fo, come another day ; — 
 Tell father all. He'll be four nights away ! — 
 A long long lonefome time to wait to know 
 What makes my whole life's blifs, or whole life's woe !— 
 Ha ! Do not! — Steal my locks ! Dear little thief! — 
 Who calls fo again ? 
 
 ^Vt* Oh ! How more lief 
 
 Than Harold's might art thou, my little Curl ! — 
 How dearer than the rank of thane or earl ! 
 
 ;JMtL Who rings fo the bell ? Farewell, farewell, mufl: be ! 
 
 ^Vt* What! Leave me? — Nay! My heart is aye with thee! 
 Thy love's mine only world — my world of blifs : 
 In that I live, nor reck aught more of this ! — 
 
 Mtl O Erc !— 
 
 (Qtt* But one — one more — another kifs ! — 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 L 2 
 
XXI. 
 
 £HOt^tV* HlE, ope the door. Who come ? — 
 Some bandfmen ? — Lo, 'tis they ! 
 They've been here thrice to-day. 
 Would Heaven he were at home ! — 
 
 ^aiMmani^' ^''^ ^°''' ^°" 'gain. 
 
 Not here ? No-where to find ! 
 
 As lief I'd fly to catch the roving wind. 
 
 He heeds now not a whit his work and men. 
 
ISO idftivae asvtoniaolti. 
 
 Tell wondrous things : they fay, 
 
 " Genius or mad, he'll furely be fome day :" 
 
 Which means, methinks, that he will be zfool. 
 
 'Tis likely ; for they tell :— 
 
 He wanders through the wood. 
 
 Loud prating with himfelf in gloomy mood ; — 
 
 Sits on the rocks ; or lies down in the dell. 
 
 Some often hear him call, 
 
 " O darling! O my fair!" 
 
 But whifper. Mother : — Ay ! He's ever there !^ 
 
 Woos lady Lith !— 'Tis true !~her at the hall ! — 
 
 Now further ! Come, men ; come. 
 We'll feek him : — Fare ye wfell, — 
 
(SffiltJt iSvconiaaott. 151 
 
 MOtf)tr. Ah, footh, 'tis pine to tell ! 
 He's never now at home. 
 
 Old friends be now unknown. 
 He loves but that proud one. 
 All thought for us is gone : — 
 He cares not for his own ! — 
 
 Forgets fo foon his vow ; — 
 What I fhould live to fee ; — 
 What I fhould have and be : — 
 He'll never heed us now ! — 
 
 Can nought but mufe and figh ; — 
 Ah, Sethrid ! Helplefs one ! 
 Thou, when poor mother's gone, 
 Wilt pine and die ! — 
 
XXII. 
 
 iHd. I'LL chide him well! He's far beyond the hour. 
 
 I've waited o'er nine minutes in my bower ; — 
 
 Why rufhled the trees fo? — It blew not? — Where — ? 
 
 Ha! Ercon ! — 
 aSrt. Darling ! — 
 
 :01th T'hou wert hiding there ? 
 
 I'll pull thefe locks, — I will : — So watching me ! 
 
 To hear of all my longing after thee ! — 
 
•54 ^ffiiot ©wotttoolir. 
 
 And fliake the leaves fo ! — Haft thou never read : 
 fVhen trees in calm air move, then /peak the dead? 
 Sooth, I could kill thee ! — and I'd do fo fain, — 
 If loving more could make alive again ! 
 
 (0rf. Oh, 'tis not idle dream that gives me thee ! 
 'Tis life, 'tis breathing life, I hold and fee ! 
 ' For, when away, I gaze on all as now ; — 
 Gaze on thofe eyes, — thefe locks, — thisethel* brow! — 
 Hear but thy words, bewitching laugh, and figh : 
 Thus we, my own fweet Love ! are ever nigh. 
 
 J¥(JL I'd fain believe, I am fo dear to thee : — 
 Ah ! Once a kind old lady faid to me : — 
 " Beware of men! Their words, aye honey-fweet, 
 " Flow light for all ; — for every one they meet." 
 That were fo fad! I hope, it prove untrue ; 
 For, elfe, indeed, thou'dft make me forely rue ! 
 And others fay : " Love is fo eafily crofTd." 
 What pity, then, that hearts fo foon be loft! 
 " Noble. (Anglo-Saxon, ^S^ek.) 
 
i^Vt, Thou, all-beftowing Heaven, wilt fufFer none 
 
 To fever twain born fo to live as one! 
 
 Nay ! if 'twere not, my foul's dear hope would die ; 
 
 And life become one long, fad, moanful figh! 
 
 Thine Erc has none but thee to live for now. 
 
 Friends, England, kinfmen, mother, — all art thou! 
 
 Thefe are forfook, who were of late fo dear. 
 
 At home, — I live not there: my heart is here. 
 
 Yet thou muft keep it: for king Harold's reign, 
 
 I would not have thee give it back again. 
 
 When aught betides to mar my dream of thee, 
 
 'Tis but to make it foon more fweet to me ; 
 
 For all fo fair — See! That high glorious fun 
 
 Would, dazzling, blind if ever gazed upon ; — 
 ;^^I, Yon livening green, become old ugly gray ; 
 
 And I, not be to-morrow as to-day. 
 
 Is that it, Erc? — Ha, caught! Ye flattering men! 
 
 Your firft vow binds ; your fecond frees again. 
 
's6 '■> CTijiiBe iSMontooia. 
 
 Ye muft have dreadful things to tell our prieft. 
 When wert at mafs ? — Not for a month at leaft ; 
 For, lately, there — I will not tell thee left 
 Thou think I faw one more than all the reft. 
 So goodly clad to-day! So glittering dight! 
 What fibula! — This girdle — Oh, how bright! — 
 Methinks, I too could make thee one like this :— 
 Ha! There, out-ftiining all, thy foul's gem is! — 
 But tell me, what does thy fond mother fay 
 Of Litha's winning fo thy love away ? 
 Keep yet a little for that tender one 
 That I grow dear to her. Then both are won! 
 Let not old love, at fight of new, take wing : 
 My foul be knit with thine in every thing ! 
 I'll foon go fee her ; — Why fo turn away ? — 
 I'll find your home ; — come, unaware, fome day. 
 Thus, I (hall have with Erc a mother too. 
 She'll watch o'er me as mine was wont to do! — 
 
(StiUtic ISrtonmolIr. 157 
 
 What cloud again! How fuddenly thou'rt fad! — 
 Here, take my harp : — Nay, come ; I'll have thee glad. 
 
 (Qtt* My heart's dear joyling! Glad? No human woe 
 Could make me, holding thee, to look not fo ! 
 A wicked Elf of Thought with fable wings. 
 Would gloom my love by whifpering rueful things; — 
 'Tis flown away ! Come 'neath that fhady tree. — 
 Sit here. — Thy harp fhall tell my blifs to thee ; — 
 By that hand play'd ! — O, Chords, how bleft are ye ! 
 ;j¥ltl* Go, buzzing flies! — Now, Stamford's Hero! Play! 
 
 (0rr. Ah, well ! Now hear thy baby's lay : — 
 
 Can ye tell us, learned Sages, 
 What can make but years of ages ? — 
 Knows nor time, nor fpace, nor bound? — 
 Wings the dull flow Day and Morrow? — 
 Gives new hope, and Iweetens forrow. 
 Making Earth to fairy-ground? — 
 
is8 crijillre lErconUJolti. 
 
 Angels call it, " Blifs of Heaven ;" 
 Souls unbodied, " Sin forgiven ;" 
 Here, on Earth, men name it, " Love ;" 
 Fiends, e'er hating, " Hell's worft Paining :" (9) 
 'Tis the Might o'er all things reigning, — 
 God below, and God above ! 
 
 Hence it is, the foul, high foaring. 
 Leaves on Earth its clayey mooring ; — 
 Hence, all Nature greens and blows ; — 
 Hope points up to brighter fkies ; — 
 Moons with planets harmonife ; — 
 Summer comes ; and Winter goes. 
 
 Wherefore, while her vows fo blefs me, — 
 While thofe little hands carefs me, — 
 Say, ye Wifeft of the Wife : 
 How can I, nor learn'd nor gifted, 
 
■ With her fmile, be thus up-lifted 
 Far above your paradife ? — 
 
 Love can whifper^ learned Sages, 
 Truths ye'd find in mufty pages ; — 
 Tell a child what ye'd be told. 
 But full oft ye like nought better 
 Than your cheerlefs deadening letter ; — 
 Like your gilding more than gold. 
 
 ;^th Thou handleft well my harp. All that may be^ 
 Dear little Sage in Love's Philofophy ! 
 Yet many think, true love has never been ; 
 And is what moony poets only ween. 
 
 aSvU Do they, my Life ? They call this. Silly Prate. 
 Such cannot love ; or, rather love to hate. 
 The dead feel nought. As thefe, fo blind and weak, 
 Can never know what angels think or fpeak 
 
i6o ^ttilDe JBrcotttooHi. 
 
 (To whom a fpeech unkent of man is given) ; 
 
 So know they not our language and our heaven. — 
 :^tL Look, how yon tender Redbreaft hops along ! — 
 
 It comes fo near ; — 'twould liften to thy fong. — 
 
 Yet — Helgh-hoj Erc ! — See this. How lightly wove ! 
 ere Thatfilk? 
 ;JKtI» How eafily torn ! We call it. Love ! 
 
 What would'ft thou fay, if I were doom'd to leave thee ? — 
 
 To wed fome other ? — Ah ! Nought yet is known! — 
 
 What, Deareft, fay, — if death or ill bereave thee 
 
 Of one fo all thine own ? 
 (Btt* Up-hold us, Heaven ! What gloomy boding's this ! 
 
 Let no dark weening cloud fuch day of blifs ! 
 
 All muji go well with us ! 
 :01th Ah, thoughts will rife ! 
 
 dStt. Shut out thefe adders from our paradife ; — • 
 JKfIt What ruftled then ? — So little makes me fear ! — 
 
 We'll leave this feat ; — My maids can eye us here ; — 
 
(Stfiltit iEwoiiUJOltr. i6i 
 
 (f rr. What fees my Love ?— 
 i¥ltl. Methought, I fkw her there ; — 
 
 They like fo much to tell — to peep and ftare ; — 
 
 Come to the bower. 'Tis fliady yon.. . 
 
 'Tis better here : — Sit down : — That ftool is thine. — 
 {01T. How fweetly here the honey-fuckles twine ! 
 
 What blooming rofe ! I'll fet it in thy hair : — 
 JJlel. Pull not my locks fo ! — Oh ! — Ah, this poor brow ! — 
 
 Not yet all heal'd ? — Shall Litha bathe it now ? 
 ^tC* Hold there that darling hand. All was to be. 
 
 What bleffed wound that made thee known to me ! 
 ;^th But— Oh, that bee !— 'Tis flown ;— there, in Iweet rofe ; — 
 
 Look, — fteals the honey ; — Ha ! now, humming, goes. 
 
 It cares not for the flower, ungrateful thing ! — 
 
 But — I would afk — Ha! What faid Harold, king? 
 (0rf . He was well pleafed. He'll need us foon again ; 
 
 And fend ere long from — 
 JIttl. Nay ! Wilt leave me then ? 
 
 M 
 
1^2 iitfiUlie lErconVDOlIr. 
 
 (Svt* Alas ! I muft, if— 
 
 Heaven ! If thou wert flain ! 
 What dreadful — Oh, this war ! What can men gain 
 By flaying thus each other ? Oft I'd know. 
 But ne'er could learn yet, why it fliould be fo. 
 For thou canft tell not in the raging fl:rife. 
 Who has his Love at home ; who, child and wife; — 
 Ken not the Good and Kind, the High and Great : 
 And thefe thou, furely, ne'er wilt wound or hate ? 
 But, Oh ! whatever kingdoms Harold won, 
 I'd not lofe thee for them and Hallentun ! 
 (Bvt* Thou darling ! I could weep, o'er-glad at this, — 
 
 Full praife to Heaven for fo much love and blifs ! — 
 
 Why lade our hearts with care for time to be ? 
 
 While thy love fail not, all is light to me. 
 
 Black Elves of Bane, e'er hovering o'er Life's dell. 
 
 Drop moll where Peace and Happinefs would dwell. 
 
 It is their glee to turn delight to woes. 
 
 But fear them not : Love dares a world of foes. 
 
(SttiUit IStrcontooltr. 163 
 
 Mth If father anfwer'd, Nay,— 
 ^rt. It camoi be ! 
 
 Yet vow to Heaven to marry none but me ; 
 For, while our hearts be knit together thus, 
 Not all the world can ever funder us. 
 JWri. I vow this. Holy Saints ! — But nay, — By thee ! 
 
 For nought is dearer, — -nought fo high to me ! 
 
 iBvt» Oh, blefs thee ! — blefs thee ! Love-bond, given as this, 
 
 Muft ever bind ; — now feal'd with one fweet kifs : — 
 
 ;;0ltL Have done !~Thy rofe falls ;— Teafer ! Heigh-ho, heigh ! 
 
 (jfrf ♦ Lo, here's a moth. 'Twould fret thy filky frill ; — 
 
 Mtl* As Care, the heart ! 
 
 (0rC. \yhy does my darling figh ? 
 
 ^th Haft flain it, warrior ? How thou lik'ft to kill ! — 
 
 What clatter of horfes ? — Ha ! — Yon two — So nigh ! 
 <Bvt> Our Earl and Wilfrid there ? 
 Mtl O fly ! 
 
 M 2 
 
1 64 (SfHiat ©woniuoltr. 
 
 How leave fo my darling ! Come quickly again ! 
 Then tell all to father, — tell all, we'd fo fain ; 
 And— But hie,my fweet Love!~Near the porch now!-- Away ! 
 Oh, what could have made him fo hurry to-day ? — 
 Quick hafte through the gate that no one may meet! 
 Fare well ! — Ah, Heart ! Why fo fluttering beat ? — 
 Let no long tarrying make me mourn ! 
 
 Fare well ! [Exit. 
 
 aSvCt Is gone ! — Now all forlorn ! 
 
 What blifsful day ! Would Heaven 'twere morn ! — 
 
 [Exit. 
 
XXIII. 
 
 iM0tf)n%ART thou afleep?— ErcI 
 
 err. Well? 
 
 i¥ll)ti)tr» One comes to know — 
 
 (jfrt* More weary talk! Heigh-ho! What will he there? 
 Some prating bandfman — Let him go ! 
 iMOtJbf 1% He's from our Earl^ — 
 
 ®rr» Ha! from — Where is he, then? Where? 
 
 With news of my Love! — Quick, man! What 
 
 tidings ? Speak ! 
 Ne'er mind the old dog ! He'll bate not ! 
 ^» ^ . I He can bark — 
 
 aStt, Come ! come ! 
 ^Ofant* I wold na meet him in the darki — 
 
 0iOti)n\ Get out, dog! Out! — 
 
i66 (Stfiiot Havconijaoia. 
 
 (Svt* What noWj man? Speak! 
 
 ^tafant. Earl Woden bade me hurry hither to fay: — 
 He wes at Lega-Cefter; — came but now; — 
 Will leave for Haftings foon, — ay, mon, to-day. 
 All Englond bith aroufed to war agen ! 
 Duke William come with eighty thoufand men! 
 CrC . What curfed hap I The Northmen fcarce away ! 
 ^fafant. He bids ye make all ready to be gone; — 
 Set all in gear to gong this afternoon; 
 For Englond, quoth he, needs now every one. 
 d't. Unwelcome tidings! Leave my Love fo foon! 
 But anfwer, that I'll — Greet our Earl, — 'Tis well, — 
 rilhaftentohim;— Wait,man!Hefaidnoughtmore? 
 ^tafant I mind nought,— 
 
 (Bl't* Nought of other — Wilt not tell? 
 
 Is HoLCROFT come? 
 ^^afantt Nay: he bith gone before — 
 
 Cl*r»To Lunden? 
 ^Itafant* Nay: to Haftings ye fhall fare; — 
 
 (25rf ♦ Art fure of that ? 
 ^Stafantt I heard; but whit not, where; — 
 
 (Bvtt The Normans take him ! Go. I'll foon be there. — 
 
XXIV. 
 
 f n (But Carrs <^artien» 
 
 MilfiM, ^l\x^ §r40n'8 lov^ fail JUpha, 
 te^a him asM^. 
 
 a2HiI* Q SHUN that all-bewitching eye! O flee! 
 
 Leave her while yet the kindling fire may fmother. 
 She might bring happinefs, if born for thee ; 
 But woe, ne'er-ending woe, if for another ! 
 Up-lifted high with hope that nought can fever 
 Two hearts fo knit to beat as one for ever. 
 Thou, all-o'er-daring, gazeft in her eyes ; 
 And, neftling as thine own the darling dove. 
 
i68 crgtiae iSrcottUJOltr, 
 
 Wilt never dream that aught can blight fuch love; — 
 That aught can wafte fo dear a paradife ! 
 
 ©IT* With forrow-dew, thy wrinkled cheek is wet. 
 Haft thou in youth, old man, fo blifsful loved; 
 And ftill can ft not forget? — 
 
 Wlih Oh, happy dream ! — Ah ! Thou may'ft foon awaken. 
 And find around but darknefs and defpair; — 
 Go, wandering o'er the wafte of life, forfaken. 
 In fearch of one aye thine; but never there! 
 Love's fire will burn then like a funeral-pile; — 
 The dove, become an adder in thy breaft; 
 Yet ftill be fondled, ftill as dove carefl^d! 
 And then, O heed — 
 (BVt* Away! Thy fwarthy mood 
 
 Makes all the world as black as is thy hood! — 
 Angels to fiends! It cannot — ne'er can be! 
 She loves me, monk! — fhe loves me! Canft not fee? 
 
 SSHlI* But, if ne'er thine, what would'ft— 
 
(Sfftitft (Svconiaolif. 169 
 
 (Btt* What would I fay ! 
 
 What would I fay if God now Ihatter'd all ? — 
 Now daft\'d to duft and atoms Earth's great ball; — 
 Brake down the world ; — let moons give up their race ; — 
 Suns drop, and blazing fly through boundlefs fpace: 
 While lightning flafh'd, deep thunder crafh'd, 
 And ftar with ftar and planet clafh'd. 
 Grim corfes whirling ! What — If all, thus warring 
 
 And ever jarring. 
 Through deathful endlefs fpace, flew on for aye! — 
 What would I fay? Tut! tut! Thou mak'ft me mad! 
 
 \_Exit. 
 
 WRiLls gone! — fo wild, indeed! — Ah, Youth, how fad! 
 Thou wilt not flee, when ^^own, the Bad! — 
 
 [ExiL 
 
XXV. 
 
 ^n\ (ili (Pan's i^nsiu^r. 
 
 QUR Earl is feated. — Ercon comes to tell,— 
 That all are ready now, and would be gone ; — 
 To crave a weighty boon; — then take farewell 
 Of her, his darling one. 
 
 Our Earl is ftill: in whom Snake Envy lurks;— 
 The loathing all men have, and none will own. 
 His heart is with the fiend that hidden works 
 And hates fo being known. 
 
172 CTfliHie IStconUioItr. 
 
 Lift! now our hero tells his love-tale. o'er, — 
 How boldly he hath won the high-born fair, — 
 Our Earl ftarts up! He'd ftart, I ween, not more 
 Were twenty demons there ! 
 
 (0arl, Why ,-why, -what fay'ft thou? What! My daughter? Mine? 
 My daughter, thou wilt wed? Why, what — Saint Chad! 
 The peafe are o'er the fticks! What — Out of my fight! 
 Thou wafterel,* thou! Art mad? 
 (&XU By Heavens ! for this — But, Ah! Thou'rt old and gray, — 
 Art her dear father ; — Down, my Sword ! Woe ! Woe ! 
 Mind, Earl, — To-morrow is another day! (lo) 
 O, thou ftialt rue for having fpurn'd me fo ! 
 A wafterell Ah! Had any faid that word, — 
 But, hence to Haftings! There — Out! Brook all this? — 
 Down! O, I will not, — will not! Down, my Sword' 
 We yet are one, and nought can funder us! 
 Now, Harold! Now for love and hate! Away! 
 
 * Wafte, refufe, of fociety. 
 
iEtfiVOc lErconluoltr. 173 
 
 That word hath roufed my foul to gain a world! 
 
 To make our mighty Earl unfay 
 
 And rue that he hath faid to-day ! \_ExiL 
 
 (0ai'I» Blefs us all! He's gone, — Ha? Young crazy-head I 
 
 The world's turn'd mountebank ! My daughter ? Mine? 
 
 Saint Chad be with us ! What ? The daring fcout ! 
 
 '' Old men's to-morr — " This comes of doing good ! 
 
 I thought, 'twas wrong at home ;~But how— St- Chad !— 
 
 How leave to-night? I'll make old Wilfrid flay; — 
 
 Watch all while I'm at Haftings; — Rot the lad! 
 
 Melitha, here! Ho, Wilfrid, ho! 
 aSail (Entering.) Well, Earl? 
 
 <25arL Why, what — JVhy, Wilfrid! Where's my daughter? 
 WB.\\* At the door— 
 (0arl, I afk thee, Where's my daughter? Blefs my life! 
 
 The world's gone mad ! Why, Wilfrid! 
 
 •ma* Well? 
 
 (KParL " But where? 
 
 Look! — Where's that girl? 
 
174 (ff^Wtr^ lErcDttUioIIr. 
 
 WiU* I was about to fay: 
 
 The lady, anxious liftening at the door, 
 
 Scream'd fuddenly, and fwoon'd ; — was borne away ; — 
 
 Lies on her couch — 
 Carl* Loves him! Thefe young ones! Ha! 
 
 This comes of having girls! He win her heart ! 
 
 I'd put that too in flieel, — I would, Saint Chad! — 
 
 Thus {hot at once with every fellow's dart! 
 
 This comes of having girls ! Away to her! 
 
 Thou bid'ft while I'm from home, — Doft hear? 
 WilV I do,— 
 
 (0arl» The devil's in the girls ! He wins them too ! — 
 
 Now, mind me, — never let her out of fight! 
 
 Follow me, monk! — Ho, ho! I'll make her rue! 
 
 [ExeunL 
 
XXVI 
 
 M ^\osi^^ H^^^ p\ I^Kiln^s. 
 
 CJEE what troops are gathering yonder, beating loud the battle-drum ; 
 Making known throughout all Mercia, — Eighty thoufand foes are come. 
 Viftory there, fo lately greeted, cannot end her holy-day : 
 War begins his awful hazard : Peace, affrighted, flies away. 
 
 England is the mighty wager. Norman William would be king. 
 Thofe at home are anxious waiting, dreading all an hour may bring ; 
 While our warriors march to Haftings, fworn to fliield our land or die : 
 Who would be no cringing bondfman, now mull heed the battle-cry. 
 
176 ^ftiiae JSMOttlDOlti. 
 
 See Childe Ergon's little dwelling. Thoufands come from near and far ; — 
 Gather there fo merry-hearted round his famous flag of war. 
 Now they're mufter'd ; — now are leaving ! helmets, armour glittering bright ; 
 Banners waving, bugles founding, horfes eager for the flight. 
 
 Now they go ! — What fore fad partings ! — See them now on jVEerfey-Strand 
 Like one moving mafs, loud finging, merry as a wedding-band : 
 Leaving helplefs women wailing — mothers weeping for their foils ; 
 Children, wives, for fires and hufljands ; maidens, for their darling ones. 
 
 War, in all his gorgeous trappings, glads yon troops ; and leads the way ; — 
 Tells them how they're born for greatnefs, following but to ^<?z»and_/7rt)i,- — 
 Makes all merrily leave their children, happy homes, — No more to fee ! 
 With his winning glory-whifpers, what a luring cheat is he ! 
 
 Ercon — Ah ! How heavy-hearted ! — Though on that high raven fteed, — 
 Tho' fo bright with glifliening armour, thou haft nought— nought there to heed; 
 Riding firft,— How ftill and thoughtful !— Sorrow glooms thy helmed brow. 
 Famelefs thou didft walk to Stamford ; — wci-t not then fo fad as now. 
 
(Sitiiyoe lErconioottr. 177 
 
 Gaze not on the well-known garden ! Seek not there thy Litha's bower ! 
 Gaze not on the banner flying proudly from his hated tower ! 
 Look not at yon fnowy kerchief, greeting, waved by darling hand ; 
 Left, forgetting all but her, thou turn again and leave thy band. 
 
 Still the fad, deep, hollow yearning, parting from fuch deareft one 
 Leaves behind ! O, look not, weakling ! — look not at proud Hallentun ! 
 Haughty ipurner ! He muft follow. Haftings, haply, ends his day. 
 Normans might be bolder warriors. Litha then is thine for aye ! — (l i) 
 
XXVII. 
 
 n% llt^g \[om^ npi| Jasititjga. 
 
 ^WAY with the Night-cap of Peace from thy head! 
 
 Wilt ficken at home in thy grandmother's bed ? — 
 
 See whining long faces, take powders and pills ; 
 
 Then, if thou get well, go to gaol for thy bills ? 
 
 Up ! Never, man ! Crowns Old War can give. 
 
 And for freedom to die, — 'tis to live ! 'tis to live ! 
 Then, Huzza for Old War ! with his drum ! drum ! drum ! 
 If we all reft at home, lo ! the tyrant will come ! 
 Then, Huzza for Old England ! whom e'er we'll defend ! 
 
 But Viftory for us or a glorious end ! 
 
 N 2 
 
i8o (Sfiivot iSwoniMoia. 
 
 Wilt toil for fome lording, e'er haughty and cold, 
 
 Who'd work thee to death in his craving for gold ? 
 
 Wilt go all thy life as a clock or machine ? — 
 
 Be worn out with care or with fretting and fpleen ? 
 
 Up ! Never, man ! Crowns Old War can give. 
 
 And for Freedom to die, — 'tis to live ! 'tis to live I 
 Then, Huzza for Old War ! with his drum ! drum ! drum ! 
 If we all doze at home, lo ! the tyrant will come ! 
 Then, Huzza for Old England ! whom e'er we'll defend ! 
 
 But Victory for us or a glorious end ! 
 
 Wilt wait till the plague come to gripe thee away ? 
 
 Or, in dreading fo, have it oft ten times a day ? 
 
 Wilt hunger at home ? — die of gout and thy fat ? — 
 
 Or, fail o'er the feas and be drown'd like a cat ? 
 
 Up ! Never, man ! Crowns Old War can give. 
 
 And for Freedom to die, — 'tis to live ! 'tis to live ! 
 Then, Huzza for Old War ! with his drum ! drum ! drum ! 
 If we all talk at home, lo ! the tyrant will come ! 
 Then, Huzza for Old England! whom e'er we'll defend ! 
 
 But Vidlory for us or a glorious end ! — 
 
^t ?|allentun: 
 
 hat Ita^pn^ Hi^r^ wUl([ th^ Jatll^ 
 
 is ^iitjg fm^lxt 
 
XXVIII. 
 
 CHE kneels before a rood. Long golden hair, 
 Loofe falling, veils her arms crofT'd on the breaft. 
 She gazes, with up-lifted eyes, in prayer ; — 
 Would find again her reft. 
 
 Thofe lips move fpeechlefs, telling all her fears, — 
 Her love, her hopes. She weeps; — What heavy fighs!- 
 Now fpeaks with angels. How thofe pearly tears 
 Drop from her young blue eyes ! 
 
'84 ifffJiiae iEtwntoolIr. 
 
 She blefles him, they bid her fo forget ; — 
 Can mind and love but him howe'er fhe pray, — 
 But far dear Ercon ! — Ah, no tidings yet ! — 
 Now two long weeks away ! 
 
 Where's now the laugh ? — the ftep fo quick and light ?- 
 The gleeful eye ? — the heart of late fo boon ? 
 Ah, that one ill hour thus can wreck or blight ! — 
 That aught fo fair fliould droop fo foon ! 
 
 To dote on one, yet doubt if that one be ; — 
 To dread, — yet hope, — yet dread again, — What woe ! 
 Too foon, dear maid, this forrow comes on thee ; 
 But 'tis what all that love, muft know. 
 
XXIX 
 
 Im ihii Sa% laments in h\ "^m^r. 
 
 . T"* HESE rofes droop. All looks fo dead ! — 
 
 So dark and drear ! 
 
 All tells me what my darling faid; 
 
 But he's not here! 
 
 I while beneath yon fhady tree; — 
 
 Dear blifsful day! — 
 It fighs but "Erc;" and yet — Ah me! — 
 
 So far away! — 
 
i86 (Sifim ©woniDom. 
 
 I feek the tower ; — mufe there alone. 
 
 I feek my bed : 
 The wind, loud howling, feems to moan : 
 
 " Dear Ergon's dead !" — 
 
 Afleep, I dream o'er all he fpake ; — 
 
 I twine his hair 
 As on that happy day; — awake; 
 
 But he's not there ! — 
 
 Friends tell me what is right and beft, — 
 What Jhould be done ; 
 
 But kind words cheer not, — give no reft : 
 My Love is gone ! — 
 
 They bid me think on rank and birth ; — 
 
 Thefe are forgot ! — 
 How drear feems all the wide wide earth 
 
 Where one is not ! — 
 
^tfiiOt ISrcontooltr. 187 
 
 And then, how fpurn'd I — So gone to die ! — 
 
 My life's moft dear ! 
 The foe will ftab his breaft, and I — 
 
 I be not near ! 
 
 Poor heart ! He'll moan fo ! None will heed ; — 
 
 None bind his wound ! 
 He'll grow fo weak ! — fall from his fteed 
 
 To hard cold ground ! 
 
 They'll trample him ! they'll hurt him fo ! — 
 
 Mar his black hair ! 
 None, none, will mind him ! Then — What woe ! — 
 
 He'll need me there ! 
 
 They'll know not him on that fad day, — 
 
 Him more than all ! — 
 Tread down my Love in cold cold clay 
 
 With boor and thrall ! — 
 
1 88 (Hmtft iErconlMOltr. 
 
 Ahj Wilfrid comes ! — 
 
 Good tidings, Wilfrid ? 
 @23lL None are yet — 
 
 Mtl* What! None? 
 
 What, none of kirn? — 
 Wiil Ah, lady ! Spare thofe tears ;— 
 
 iMeL No tidings of the fight ? 
 TOlI Ifloftorwon, 
 
 Is yet unknown ; — 
 Mtl* Oh ! Oh ! My dreadful fears,— 
 
 They tell me, LoJ} ! — all lofi ! My darling one ! — 
 
 Know'ft thou where Ergon's mother dwells? 
 OTlU I do ;- 
 
 ileU I'll thither. Quick ! 
 Wiil It is a lowly cot,— 
 
 ;JUtI, Hence ! Let my fteed be ready ! That will cheer ! 
 
 I'll know her ; — Follow ! — know the happy fpot ; — 
 
 See where he dwelt ; — 
 OTlI* But, lady, 'tis not near,— 
 
 Jifltl* See where, as child, he play'd; — where flept; — Away ! 
 
 'Twill glad me moft to gaze on all fo dear ! 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 <i 
 
XXX. 
 
 CEE yonder cot o'er-grown with hanging ivy ; — 
 Its weedy grafs-plot : where a huge oak grows : 
 Of whofe dead boughs below, a feat is wrought. 
 'Tis Ergon's home. His fires, as old wills prove. 
 Lived there of yore ere Brunnanburg was fought. 
 
 Now ftep within. — No filk bedecks the wall. 
 Nor fhine of caftled earls and lording thanes ; 
 But Englifh cloth, with fome of Ergon's fpears. 
 His aged mother's crucifix and beads, — 
 Once gilt, now worn with prayer ; as fhe, with years. 
 
19° (Hffiiat asrcon'woi'a. 
 
 Look, yon fhe fpins ; — well, neat, but homely, clad ; — 
 Unwrinkled, though her locks are fnowy white ; — 
 So lovely ftill in wreck of lovelinefs ! 
 Meek, heavenly brow'd, ihe calmly fees life wane ; — 
 Its thread grow ftiort, ev'n as yon flax grows lefs. 
 
 And there is Sethrid, — maid with laughing leer. 
 She decks old oaken borde with homely meal ; — 
 Is fond of fweets and drefs ; — can ne'er forget; — 
 Hears, fees, minds all ; — kens ever right from wrong, 
 Or friends and foes ; — is mother's fondling pet. 
 
 A dog is watching her. 'Tis like a lamb ; — 
 Has white wool-locks, big round eyes black as coal ; — 
 Sits up with begging paws. 'Twill always come' 
 "When meals be nigh — ^whene'er the fafl is o'er ; — 
 Then, upright, flaring, watches every crumb. 
 
The ruddy maid, with hand in warning raifed, 
 Now tells it where its mailer, Ercon, is ; — 
 Now, laughing, gives it nuts ; — " Ha ! See !" 
 The mother cries, " What Riders near ? — 
 " Will hither ! Lo .' Who can they be ?— 
 
 " A lady ! — Ha ! What muft be done ? 
 
 " It is the queen of Hallentun ! 
 
 " O, hurry ! O, what fhall I do ? 
 
 " How gueft fuch — Bring the morat ! Hie ! — 
 
 " Hulh, dog ! hufh ! — Lo, Wilfrid's coming too !" — 
 
 See yon her fair white fteed; — her gold-locks fly 
 O'er filk hood, glittering gemm'd, of welkin-dye ; — * 
 Her fnowy kirtle ; — arms with fhining rings ; — 
 Yon orange-hued, gilt-purfled, long robe waving ; 
 And filver whip in hand with golden firings. 
 
 * Skyblue. 
 
Old Wilfrid jogs near, gloomy, black as night, 
 Onlimpingrough-hair'dcheftnut,"Dunfl:an"hight: 
 Which he hath had nigh twenty years, I ween. 
 His thoughtful face, fo long and ghoftly white. 
 Peeps under Iwarthy cowl; elfe, nothing fair is feen. — 
 
 The mother, in her beft of garments dight. 
 Halts out ; — bows low ; and bids them both alight. 
 But — Ha ! Why frowns the lady ? Hark : — 
 
 iHel. " What, this?— 
 
 Nay, Wilfrid, nay ! That old — it cannot be! 
 
 Erc never could dwell here, monk?" 
 SaSlU "Aslfaid,— ' 
 
 JMri. " What ! He, who— Nay ! " 
 iilOtfttr* " The Saints watch o'er you ! Welcome ! 
 
 This way, good lady. Bide with us a while. 
 
 Forfooth, ye're weary, — " 
 
ffitjiliru #rcouUjoia. 193 
 
 Mth " Hoo ! What a filthy gate ! ... 
 
 J/^r^j where— Away! Oh! Oh! How could our king— 
 Ah,thus — thus cheated!//^rf fill hate him!~hate!— 
 Hate him, — I will! I will! Here, flatterer? Hence ! 
 How could Earl Woden like him ? Loveaioor! 
 Oh ! — But I will not mourn !" 
 £SlOtf)tV* " fFarm ? Sooth, 'tis very warm. 
 
 And ye're athirfl and tired? I have fweet morat. 
 And right good mead ; but wine — " 
 ileU " What old woman ! Foh!" 
 
 iMOtf)fr* "What fays fhe, monk? I hear not well to-day; — " 
 JiflfL " To think--But I'll enter! Thentheworftisfeen!- 
 To think that I could dote on a boor ! — 
 That he fo knightly clad, fo winning and fheen, 
 Could^allow in this !" — 
 ;JM[0t6fn " Come forth. Our dwelling's lowly. 
 
 Sit here, kind lady, while I haften to bring you — 
 Ye feem fo fretted. Come, be feated — " 
 
 o 
 
19+ &tffilXft ©rcontooia. 
 
 Mel, " No ! 
 
 And what one is this? What chubby girl! How low! 
 Thus gapes upon me? — ftaring? — laughing fo? — 
 What can fhe mean by that? — Ha, Wilfrid ! Why,— 
 She's filly ! Away, monk ! Foh !" 
 
 She goes ; — gallops quickly thence in angry flight, — 
 Flees as from deadly peft. — Now both are out of fight. 
 
 Kind Hilda faw well all fhe could not hear, — 
 Her daughter fpurn'd ; — her failing helplefs child. 
 There is the wound that, /ofily touch'd, will pang ; — 
 The heart'skeen thorn. PoorSEXHRiDfees each tear; — 
 Unknowing why good mother weeps fo, mourns ; 
 And, fondling her, does all flie can to cheer. — 
 
XXXI 
 
 i^lt^ (Jfffltoinjg JijgW. SH^Iitto in l^it. 
 
 Mth QLD Wilfrid ftirr'd up rue. 
 ^Aia. (Entering.) My lady call'd ? 
 
 ^t\* I pray thee, ftay ! I've had fuch weary night ; — 
 
 Am fo call down : — Ah, wait ! — Were it but light ! — 
 He fpake too late ; — could teach when all was done. 
 Had I ne'er been — ne'er been to fpurn that, one! — 
 Her, dear kind mother ! — Ercon loves her too; — 
 Spurn that forlorn one ! Ah, what 'tis to rue ! — 
 
 o a 
 
196 (ffftiHr^ iSwotttaiofii. 
 
 Go thou, at Even, as the fun goes down. 
 And take to them yon hood and filken gown; 
 With this — this gold ; but, mind me, never tell — 
 Say, thou art come from one that loves them well. 
 I muft forego him ; — Ah, I muft ! — And yet — 
 So eafy 'tis to love ; — fuch forrow, to forget ! — 
 
 ii^SfiJt Why weep fo ? She will blefs you for this gold. 
 
 One worthier comes ; and new love foon heals old. 
 ilKlri* O well is thee, who know'ft not what it is ! 
 
 A worthier? Nay! Wrench out thy tongue for this! 
 Wilt blacken him? What goodlier man could be ! 
 The fun ne'er flione o'er aught fo dear as he ! — 
 If he'd but kindly faid, his birth was low, 
 I had not loved — not doted on him fo ; 
 But ne'er to tell ! As lord of all, he came ; 
 With Harold's praife, and with a hero's fame; — 
 My father too to like him beft ! Oh ! Oh ! — 
 
 JJiaflj.Nay ; cheer, good lady: — Cheer! — 
 
crtjilire (SwonlDOlii. 
 
 197 
 
 Alas ! What woe ! 
 I ftill might love him, if, when firft we met, — 
 But — Ah, now all is o'er ! — all ! all ! And yet, 
 I would not have him — not for worlds ! — to know 
 That LiTHA went and fpurn'd his mother fo ! 
 Were he now here, I'd tell him all my rue. 
 He would forgive me ; — I would make him do ; 
 And then might reft : — Ah, heart ! — 
 iWaiJj* What forry figh !— 
 
 ^ISitl* But he's fo far ! — may come no more ; — may die ! 
 And then he can't forgive ; and I fhall fret — 
 Rue all my life : fo, never — never can forget ! — 
 il^atl!l« Nay, weep not. — Cheer ! — 
 Mti, O, had I ftay'd from there, 
 
 I might have loved him now as well as ere ! 
 But, wrong them fo ! How anger maddens us ! 
 My mother always faid, it would be thus. 
 To fcorn his darlings ! — make his dear ones pine ! 
 He loves his mother ev'n as I loved mine. — 
 
198 (Stfiiot 3et(on)Dold« 
 
 But 'twas not right to come in fuch array. 
 And take by wily Health my heart away : 
 Which I'd have freely given, and ne'er have rued ; 
 If, as poor Ercon, he had come and wooed ! — 
 Put out the lamp. 
 jfttaitl. Why ! 'Tis but fpring of day ; — 
 
 Lo ! Whither goes my lady ? 
 £^eL Follow thou. 
 
 Come to the garden. Come. Morn glimmers now. 
 'Twill cool my fever'd brow. — \_Exeuni. 
 
XXXII. 
 
 hal Ita^^ps on nnotlx^ iag at 
 
 Mot^tV, A SILKEN gown! — Howfheen! — Who can it be ? — 
 Look, daughter. We'll keep thefe for Sunday-gear. 
 But I ken none that love fo thee and me. 
 Thefe are too good for us, I fear. — 
 
 Lo! Who rides yon? Methinks, — 'Tis her white fteed. 
 There's our high lady! She'll not dare to ftay: — 
 Thou wilt to mafs? Go, queen! Thy foul hath need 
 Of prayer and tears — She ftops ! — She rides away : — 
 
200 ^ffiiw QSvcon\xiOlo, 
 
 Thoult find not in thy heart to come again. 
 
 And hurt— Turns back?— Will here?— Knocks at our gate ! 
 
 What fhall we do? We cannot let her wait; — 
 
 Be quiet, dog! — Bide, daughter, /will go. — 
 
 Mthl call to tell— 
 iWotS^r.My hearing's dull. — 
 
 mtl If fhe'd but afk, I'd ftay. 
 
 She's angry with me; — will not bid to-day. — 
 I come to tell — If, e'er through him — thy fon. 
 Thou hear aught from our Earl of Hallentun, — 
 IWOtijJt. Heard nought! No tidings yet! It grieves us fore! 
 Erc went away heart-broken! — told his men. 
 That he would rather die than come again! 
 Dread is us all, we ne'er fliall greet him more! 
 m^LPoor Erg! How fad! — I weep not for thy fon: — 
 If father fell, — Ah, then I fhould have none ! 
 What then would come of us ! Oh ! Oh ! — 
 
(ffftiltte iSwonlDOllr. 201 
 
 Momv, Ye too— 
 
 Ye too can weep? 
 MtU Alas!— Oh! If ye knew— 
 
 Saw how I mourn, — Thou wilt not greet to-day; — 
 Not welcome me; — not afk me once to ftay. 
 ifttOttl^t.Our lowly houfe was ne'er for fuch as ye; 
 Elfe, I would bid — 
 iW^I. Nay, nay! I anger'd thee. 
 
 ifHotftfr.My children are my pride; — Erc, this poor one. 
 All, all, on earth wherein my foul can boaft: — 
 But Heaven is with us! — It muft wound me moft 
 To hear an ill word — 'Twas unkindly done ! 
 ilH*I.O weep not! — weep not fo! I will alight: — 
 Motttev.Come, — 
 
 0leU I'll not hence ere thou forgive me quite. 
 
 I came — Ye Poor are hard, — ay, haughty too ! 
 To let me wait fo long, and fcorn my rue! — 
 iWotS^r.This way.— 
 
202 (SifiHit iEt£onU)Ol&. 
 
 Poor woman! Thou canft hardly go; — 
 So lame and bent ! How could he leave thee fo ! — 
 iilOtlKl** Step in. — There, lady, reft you. Sit ye down. — 
 
 Jiltl* Still wrath is in thy heart: I faw thee frown. 
 ;:0lOti)en Nay, lady; nay,— 
 
 ;;0ld* Thou need'ft not anfwer. Nay. 
 
 Lo ! Here I kneel : — Forget that ireful day ! — 
 O, tell not Erc ! — I'll rife not hence before 
 Thou kindly bid me think on it no more; — 
 Nay, till thou kifs me, I will ne'er be gone. — 
 What! Silent jy I?/? Thou unforgiving one! 
 ilOtfeen Rife, lady! 
 
 0lth Nay; I'll bear all. Speak thy mind; 
 
 Nor hide thus angry heart with feeming kind; — 
 Ah, weep not fo! — nor fcowl, nor fhake thy head! 
 I will unfay the bitter words I faid; — 
 JHotfttl** Ah, ye have — I have loft a darling fon! 
 
 For whom I bore a world of cares and fears ; — 
 
 <ii 
 
©ija&e c^tcottujoia. 203 
 
 Glad yet in hope that,when bow'd down with years,— 
 A goodlier child, ye never look'd upon! — 
 In hope that, when all thus began to fail, 
 I ftill might find in him a help and ftay: — 
 Ah me! To fet our heart in aught fo frail! — 
 But it muft be. 'Tis right in our world's way. 
 'Tisintheteam of things that nought fhouldlaft; — 
 Young, go with young ; and old ones, be forecaft! — 
 ^tl* I hear all. Come, tell out. 'That was my wrong; — 
 :J?flOt|)fr* Life's Giver is o'er all yet: God is ftrong: — 
 
 'Twas not before time fo : — Well ! Let it be ! — 
 Ye have withholden all his heart from me; — 
 'Twas, haply, beft : — Ah, then ! Heaven give 
 
 you Ipeed ! — 
 He was aye thus; — in every new love, wild; 
 High- towering, hot of heart, e'en from a child; 
 And all-o'er-daring, both in thought and deed. — 
 !♦ Say on : I lift. 
 
204 <jl!)iltie iJgrcotttaJoKr. 
 
 iWOti)tl*. Nor would he here take heed. 
 
 So great in your fight is the pomp of life: 
 And folly was with him, I faid, to trow 
 That ye would ever come to be his wife: 
 For his ill work, ye came to fpurn us fo! — 
 iWld.For fuch dear finning! Ah! Look not away! 
 I'd have thee all forget that evil day. 
 As the hafty fire-eyed Elf of Anger flew. 
 One dropp'd. It «/fr would fly . 'Twas gnawingRue. 
 I faw thy tears flow, as I left you then; — 
 Soon wept at all; and moan'd to come again. 
 For oft, methought, I faw my mother weep; — 
 Saw thine eyes chide as hers ;— Ah ! could not fleep ;— 
 Wept till 'twas morn ; and pray'd full rue and fear ;— 
 Would fain have given thee pearls for every tear ! 
 This lightning-anger — Ah, what evil foe! — 
 Comes quicldy and fl ies ; but leaves fuch lafting woe ! 
 
(Stfiltie iSwonUiol&. 205 
 
 Tei unforgiving ? — Who can aye be one ? 
 That ill fhould look fo ill but when 'tis clone ! — 
 I came of late in grief and anxious fear; — 
 Learn'd unawares that he fo loved dwelt here; — 
 Could, kingly wooing, come in bright array; 
 And lure — thus lure me from myfelf away ! — 
 But ye'U forgive ? — Ah! Ercon would, I know. 
 He would not let me weep, and bid thee fo. 
 Speak peace to me. I was, indeed, to blame : 
 Ah, who that loves, is every day the fame ! 
 I have been fchool'd to think — and learn'd too well — 
 That Good can be but where the lordly dwell ; — 
 Known but proud ftate, the craft to fliine and vie : 
 Erc taught how all are one to Him on high ! — 
 Wean'd me from pride to forrow for my fin ; — 
 To learn that ye with us are God's dear kin ! 
 And, Oh ! for this, I'll love him — love him yet. 
 Though all the world fhould bid me fo forget ! 
 
2o6 (ffiijilire iJ^rronUiolIi. 
 
 MOtfiev, Ah, that were fad ! — 
 
 M(h Thou ftill art cold to me?— 
 
 How poor and proud ! What can I more ? — Ha, fee ! 
 Thy daughter fmiles. She hath forgiven : — Sit here. 
 Thou wilt forget? Ah, Ergon's fifter ! Dear ! 
 Bid mother love us both, and ceafe to moan : — 
 I'll call thee. Mother; — blefs thee as mine own! — 
 Would Heaven I had been born in this poor cot! — 
 Ne'er known aught better! 'Twere a happy fpot. 
 I now ftiould have a watchful tender mother ; — 
 Love him as never fifter loved a brother! — 
 I bade thy darling keep his heart for thee. 
 That his fond parent might be one to me. 
 Mine died fo young ; — left her dear child to mourn 
 In life's glad May, unfriended and forlorn ; — 
 To live for glare in world of empty fhine. 
 With none to love, no heart that beat as mine. 
 No hand to lead, — ev'n nought of kin that cared 
 If all went well with me, or all misfared ! 
 
'Twas eafy then to cling; — to love that one 
 Who loved me fo. But now Ere too is gone! — 
 MotfttV, Is gone ! Ah ! Ah ! 
 
 Mil. Wail not. Afk all ye need, — 
 
 Strong healing wine, gold, hood, or filken weed; — 
 Alk aught I have ; but flay to weep and moan. 
 Call LiTHA, Daughter: love her as thine own ! 
 MOifitV, Be blefl; for all ! I lack, fair lady, nought ; 
 
 For God is great in help : — 'Tis woe to find. 
 We live too long for thofe who fhould be kind ! — 
 But think no more on that ye faid or wrought: 
 ik(y days are gone: — Old Age fhould live at reft; — 
 Well !Erc loves you; and,e'er fince ye were known. 
 Hath minded nought; hath cared not for his own. 
 / tarry long ; — But all is for the beft ; — 
 Well ! Well ! — Old folk fee life with other eyes: 
 My fun goes down, while his begins to rife. 
 MtX, ERclovesbut/wi?.'' — DearERc! — hntme? Ah, fain 
 I'd give thy darling fondler back again ! — r 
 
2°8 ^fum QSvconisiolXi, 
 
 And yet I would not. But I'll make thy fon 
 
 To dear * you more than he hath ever done. 
 
 So well inclined am I to thee and thine. 
 
 Commune with me. Let all your wants' be mine. 
 
 If I can help in any wife, but fay ; 
 
 Afk word or deed : thou flialt not have my Nay. 
 
 Thus all ye lofe in him, ye'll find in me. 
 JWOtl^tr* O thank you ! thank you ! Heaven watch over thee ! 
 i¥lelt Ha! Smiling at laft! Now I can kifs thee ! — There ! 
 
 But tell nought to him;— What a lighter heart I bear ! 
 
 I can leave now fo happy ! — But never, never, fay — 
 £SiOti)ti:, No, blefs you, lady ! But will ye not wait ? 
 Jil^L I'll come again foon. It is growing fo late. 
 
 We will gladden each other while Ergon's away. 
 
 But fare ye now well ! 
 £^Oti)tV* I'll with you to the gate. — 
 
 * To hold dear, to love. {Anglo-Saxon, Deoraft.) 
 
XXXIII. 
 
 hi Wixlf(d mp to ffw[q llt4 Ia%(i2) 
 
 I. 
 
 r/&rp/«^.;jT^^ ftrongeft of our war-fhips lay 
 At anchor, fafe in fremmed* bay. 
 Her falls, fo white, were neatly furl'd. 
 She feem'd fo new in work and caft ; 
 And yet had roam'd long o'er the world. 
 And weather'd many a wrecking blaft; — 
 Was, all believed, of fuch a form, — 
 So goodly built, fo rightly mann'd ; 
 
 * Foreign. (Anglo-Saxon, FremcJ.) 
 
2IO ®t)iiae iBwDttiDoia. 
 
 As ne'er to dread, in any ftorm. 
 
 Of being driven on the flrand. 
 
 If ihe was this, my fong will fay : 
 
 She'd often beaten her compeers; 
 
 And done more in a fingle day 
 
 Than weaker others had in many years.. 
 
 2. 
 
 Now months are o'er. — 'Tis wane of day. 
 The bark hies Iwift on her homeward way;- 
 Now nears again our Englifh ftrand 
 With trophies won of other land. — 
 The fky is calm as all below: 
 As fleeping babe, dread Ocean lies. 
 To watch it now, ye'd little trow 
 That raging ftorm could ever rife. — 
 Each is fo glad at thought of home, — 
 At meeting foon his darling there; 
 
^ffilbt mvcon'mol'a, 211 
 
 While eve's light zephyr feems to come 
 
 As that forlorn one's figh or prayer: — 
 
 " What! what is that?" cries the ftartled crew, — 
 
 Lo ! now the bark, which fo lately flew. 
 
 Stands ftill. They fee a monfter rife 
 
 High o'er the bow, with fiery eyes. 
 
 Huge lion's-head, long fifhy tail. 
 
 And wings that flap o'er the higheft fail ! 
 
 " 'Tis Serra! Down !" the fea-king cries. 
 
 And goes againft it with his men. 
 
 They fl:ab it till it finks and dies. 
 
 'Tis down ! — The bark fails on again. 
 
 All praife fo high its righteous king 
 
 For having overcome yon evil thing. — (13) 
 
 3- 
 They watch now gentle twilight fall; — 
 
 A flock of fea-birds wheel and flcim ; — 
 
 p 2 
 
212 ttftil^t lEwotttoolii. 
 
 A fpeck of fail, white looming far away ;- 
 The fun go down like fiery ball 
 
 With fwarthy rim. 
 " That oft betokens ftorm," they fay; 
 " But ill can come not after fuch a day."- 
 
 4- 
 'Tis night. The full moon, cloudlefs, high. 
 Shines calm as but for lovers' eye; 
 And filvers o'er unrippled fea : 
 Which is as fmooth as lake could be, — 
 A mirror of the ftarry fky. — 
 
 5- 
 'Tis later. Hear the wind. How loud 
 It howls, Woo-hoo! What fudden blafts 
 Now flap the fails on the quivering mafl;s ! 
 And, lo \ the fky begins to cloud. 
 
fiIi)iHr* iSrcottluoltr. ^ 213 
 
 The fea-king cannot reft: — " How ftrange!" 
 He, wondering, cries; " What fudden change! 
 Now let the bark go with the gale; 
 And take in fail !"— 
 
 6. 
 
 'Tis midnight; — O, how dark is all ! 
 The fhip begins to roll and leap; — 
 The rain, as gufhing ftream, to fall 
 Into the black and yawning deep. — 
 
 7- 
 Now foaming billows, rolling high, 
 , Roar loud to the wailing howling wind. 
 How fwiftly yon leaden clouds fweep o'er the fky !- 
 Now letting the wan moon dart behind, — 
 Now fuddenly blazing with lightning-flafh ! 
 What roaring thunder-cralh ! — 
 
2 2 14 <fft)iHie iSwontoolU. 
 
 How the high bkck billows make her rife. 
 Or dive deep, as they raging flow ! 
 Now up, fhe feems to touch the fkies ! — 
 Now down again in the gulf below ! 
 While foaming fpray fweeps over the deck. 
 Shivering each plank, or dafhing to wreck !- 
 
 Now Hope grows /aint. All moan for day. 
 The black Iky lets the pale moon peep, 
 'Neath bulging clouds, with fickly ray 
 Down on the dark dread raging deep. 
 
 9. 
 The helm is gone ; the bulwark, too ; 
 Sail, rent; and compafs wafh'd away. 
 Lo, now the wretched moaning crew, — 
 Bereft of every hope and ftay, — 
 Save but their wine; and drink down fear and rue. 
 
10. 
 
 They jvake to find that all is loft ; — 
 So, care not how their wreck be tofT'd ! 
 But let it drift, float any way. 
 As foul wind blow ; or, ill wave roll. 
 At laft, one weens, he fpies a bay ; 
 Or, what might be fome happy goal : — 
 " Each take an oar, and work ;" they cry : 
 " We'll row fo far that we may hail." 
 What will poor fuffering man not try 
 To fave dear life, though all fliould fail ! 
 Each grafps an oar, and tries to row ; — 
 Toils hard to keep his wreck in fway ; — 
 But, Ah, how ill ! Thefe cannot trow 
 That man fhould ftrive in fuch a way : 
 They hold that it is wrong or low. 
 And, haply, fome more bafe than they. 
 
!i6 iStffiltic iBrcotttoollr. 
 
 With fuch a wreck and oar in hand. 
 By fair or foul, would reach the land ; — 
 Ha, hark ! What winning fong around ! 
 It cheers their hopelorn forrow-breaft ; — 
 Is now mofl; fweet bewitching found ; 
 And lulls each one to deathful reft — 
 
 II. 
 
 Now dread Thunder, peal on peal. 
 Like a mighty god in ire. 
 Starts them ; — makes the proudeft kneel, 
 Brandifhing his fword of fire ; — 
 Strikes with awe and wild defpair, 
 Even the boldeft-hearted there 
 
 12. 
 
 But now the foothing lulling ftrain. 
 More foft, more fweet, begins again. 
 
ortiutre ©tfotttoom. 217 
 
 'Tis lovely Sirens': who delight 
 To lure the Sad from Good and Right. 
 All drop their oars ; — are loft for aye ; — 
 Now let their wreck drift any way. 
 And fleep to wake in endlefs, night. — 
 
 13- 
 The pride, the boaft, of our old town ; — 
 The hope of all, thus wreck'd, went down ! — 
 With its good king, its daring men ! 
 Nor boat nor fragment, — not a fcrip 
 Hath ever come to land again! — 
 
 Jfltl, What fong for me ! 
 
 2®lll, Thus Paffions, lady, wreck full oft our fhip ; — 
 
 Thofe gales that blow Life's bark fafe into goal ; 
 
 But, Ah ! thus oft, thus oft, on deathful fhoal : 
 
2i8 dfiillr^ iSrconiuoltr. 
 
 Where luring Sirens dwell : who then can win 
 Thofe whom, in weal, great Serra made not fin. 
 Full oft our firmeft bark had flood the blaft. 
 But thus was wreck'd in evil ftorm at laft; 
 So good and ftrong, it near'd the well-known ftiore : 
 Ah ! none are fafe ere Life's black night is o'er. 
 And when thus lightning-anger — 
 
 m\* Still, I bid ! 
 
 I bade thee fing away my care and fear ; 
 But thou art more to gloom us than to cheer ; — 
 Ha ! What— What horfes ? It was— Ha,hark ! the drum ! 
 The band — Lo, hither — Good faints ! They come ! 
 
 they come ! 
 'Tis my Ergon ! Heaven ! Oh, tell him — Away ! away ! 
 Hie to them, maid! — Yon, Wilfrid, — Hie, girl! Say — 
 A bandfman comes yon, hurrying hither, — O flee I 
 Quick, Edith, haften him! Tell — What tidings has he? 
 Now at the porch — Ah, Heart ! His words can make — 
 Can make — make thee to live, or break ! — 
 
^f)Utit iEt'ConU)Olli« 219 
 
 2^1'UI taught in vain. The ftorm hath foon begun. — 
 iMtLHa, now! She comes with the bandfman! Be quick, 
 Edith ! run ! — 
 JMaflJ*Loj here's the man, good — 
 MtL Speak, ha ! fpeak thou ! Near ! 
 
 Where is — Why wagg'ft thou fo that ghoftly leer? 
 Up with thy head,man! What !my father? Ercon ? Speak! 
 
 mi Both! 
 
 Banir. All! 
 
 iHeL Die, Heart, at this ! 
 
 OTl'U Whatfhriek! 
 
 Look to the lady, girl ! Saints ! Heaven ! O, help ! 
 
 Hasfwoon'd! How wan! Bear her away, maid:— Go.— 
 
 Both flain ? 
 ^attttt HoLCROFT — All! all! — King Harold flain! 
 
 Loft ! England loft ! — down, ne'er to rife again ! 
 2Mil« What, Harold? — William, king? 
 
Z20 etlilft^ iErcotttDOia. 
 
 35an3j. I've faid. They won ; 
 
 And foon — now foon will rage at Hallentun, — 
 W^ih^ furore Normannorum nos libera, D amine! 
 <ISanlJ«Ah,kneel,monk:!— kneel and quake. Sad days be come: 
 
 Now every Saxon man muft beg a home ! 
 2l33ll* I Taw fuch blazing hair-ftar * here laft week ! 
 
 Up-hold us. Heaven ! 
 3Bailt(t They're nigh with fire and wreak, — 
 
 OTl'U What fhall— Saint Ofwald blefs us! Oh !— Are near? 
 35anlJ»Onej named CountEarl GERBOuD,will foon behere, 
 
 I'll flee. 
 OTl'L He's fled! Oh, what— what fhall we— Hence! 
 
 They'll flay us ! Ah ! My bag of filver too! — 
 
 All gather'd bit by bit ! What fliall we— Oh ! 
 
 My books ! my books ! What woe ! What woe ! 
 
 \_Exit. 
 
 * Comet. (Anglo-Saxon, Feaxed-Jieorra.) 
 
XXXIV. 
 
 TO, what hoft near Ercon's dwelling I 'Tis the direful Norman foe 
 Hurrying onward, burning houfes, leaving nought but wreck and woe ; 
 Treading down the flowery meadows, — everything to foul or blight. 
 Tostig's wreakfol ghoft at Haftings, watching o'er them, got the fight ;- 
 
 Comes now yonder ; — ftalks before them, kindling rage in every one : 
 Oh, how fad that mifchief lives yet when its doer's dead and gone ! 
 He, the loon, foretold fo truly : Harold — whom we lately faw 
 Boafting proudly, viftory-fwoUen, — now is food for raven's craw. 
 
222 (Sftilise l^vcontxtolO, 
 
 How the drunken horfemen bellow 'mid the tramp* and weapon-din. 
 Waving high their Norman banner with its three red lions in ! 
 Cefter's f Earl rides firft. None ever call'd him " Earl " ere yefterday : 
 Many folk in Flanders know him as Gerboud, /e Charretidr.X 
 
 He is fix feet high, or higher ; — light-hair'd, gaunt, old beardlefs lad ; — 
 Soft and gentle, milky-mooded ; — good, becaufe he can't be bad. 
 Dull in thought, he drawls his words out : thou may'ft tell a fcore between. 
 How fuch one e'er grew fo mighty, — that Saint Ofwald knows, I ween. 
 
 He was always mild and peaceful ; — never fond of glorious war ; — 
 Therefore, keeps, to do his fighting, Marflial Capitaine Volmar. 
 See him yon, — that dark-hair'd warrior, little higher than his fword, — 
 How he bids his lantern matter give him Hallentun to lord ! 
 
 He's a fiery heftoring Norman, glorying but in might and guerre ; — 
 Known among his foreign kinfmen as Volmar, le petit Tailleur; — § 
 Now fo gralping, haughty, ftrifeful : were but this one man alive. 
 Then, for want of other foeman, Le Tailleur and he would ftrive. 
 
 * The found caufed by the tread of a marching army, 
 t Chefter. 
 
 X Gerboud, the Waggoner. Accent the laft fyllables. 
 § Volmar, the little tailor. Accent the laft fyllables. 
 
^ttiltft (SSvton\siitVtf, 223 
 
 Thefe are mounted, clad in armour, leading on ten thoufand near : 
 O'er whofe fliields are painted tigers, leopards, heads of wolves and deer. 
 On the fiery flopping Marfhal's, gilded lions fighting rage ; — 
 Oh, this little tailor's lions have become fo dread with age ! — 
 
 Now they come to Ergon's dwelling ! 'Tis too mean. They gallop by. 
 Seeing yonder wealthy caftle, towering Hallentun, fo nigh ; 
 Leading fhaven-headed archers, — drunken loons who hoot and howl : 
 Folio w'd by the beak-helm'd bowmen, fpearmen grim in iron cowl. 
 
 Now the terror-ftricken Saxons, running, flaout " They come ! they come!" 
 Wailing women, wild deJpairing, hurry aghaft from babe and home. 
 Quaking monks, with crofs and miflal, fleeing, chant or fay a prayer. 
 All would Ihelter at yon caftle, — find a home — They know not where I — 
 
 Now fee yon couch : where poor Melitha lies ; 
 With kirtle rent ; loofe torn, long, golden hair j 
 With cheek fo white ;- and tearlefs, foft, blue eyes 
 Fixed on the ground in fad, cold, death-like ftare. 
 
224 ^tfilift iErcotttoom. 
 
 (Whereon her fhining gems and rings are thrown) 
 
 So ftill, fo calm in woe, flie gazes there : 
 
 As lovely white-robed image, wrought in ftone. 
 
 Of worn out Sorrow tired with her own moan. — 
 
 Now Wilfrid comes to her, trembling, pale with fear. 
 
 He bids her rife and flee to the minfter near. 
 
 She heeds him not, nor feems to hear : — 
 
 " Hark, O lady ! Flee, O flee ! They're near ! they're near ! — 
 
 " Heavens ! Now at the porch ! They're here !" 
 See ! Two Normans, flamping, enter ; — rufliing, pais old Wilfrid by ; — 
 Stop ; — now gaze where Ergon's darling and her fallen bright gems lie. 
 
 One takes her rings up while his fellow feizes her : " She's mine !" he cries, — 
 " Unhand her quickly !" — " Never! never! He who tears her from me, dies!" 
 Ha, how they rufli upon each other! — tiger-fiercely rage and fight!— 
 But lo ! Gerboud, their mild lord, enters ; fqllow'd by his angry knight : 
 "Fol/'P^t up your fwords I Ye drunken varlets ! Norman fo 'gainft Norman ? Out ! 
 I'll have you hang'd, — I will, par Gamm! Swords up! What's this new 
 ftrife about.?" 
 
<ilfimre IBrconiuoItr. 225 
 
 Gerboud goes by, ahd leaves them wranglin'g there ; — 
 
 Stops, feeingher. She gazes on the ground; 
 
 Nor minds him, hears not, recks of nought around. 
 
 Our Flemifli Earl, in wonder, eyes the fair. 
 
 He calls the monk (who, quaking, kneels afar ; 
 
 And dreads to come) ; — begins again to ftare ; 
 
 Nor turns away till ftartled by VolmAr : — 
 ©ev. "VolmXr." 
 
 Wal. " Ha ! Well, fire ?■ Well ?" 
 
 (gfr. " A gentle prize. Doll fee ? 
 
 Guard thou this mourning one : flie liketh me, — " 
 2Fol. " She's a beauty, par Gamm! — too good for thofe Breton boors ! 
 
 I came in time : 'twas for her the varlets fought. 
 /'// mind all well,—/ will : reft ; think of nought. 
 
 Take, fire, /«r mariage ou par amours." 
 ©er. " What monk is — " 
 ®oI. " Quaking kirtle !" 
 
 5gg[(X, " O be meek ! — 
 
 Help, faints 1 O faints !— Here, kneeling,—" 
 ^0\. "Up! Who's fhe?" 
 
226 (B:f)(ia« iBrcontooItr. 
 
 Will " Earl WoDENNOTH— his daughter—" 
 Wol "His, eh? Speak!" 
 
 OTlL" O fpare us! fpare!" 
 0(l\ " Rife, monk: we'll harm not thee. 
 
 Tell all thou know of this fad one to me." 
 OTlIt " Thanks, my good lord !" 
 
 Wol* " I'll away. I'll leave you here: 
 
 Chen en cojyn comfaignie ne desire.'''' 
 
 Volmar's away. — Gerboud, ftlU gazing yon. 
 Hears Wilfrid tell the tale of love and woe. 
 He lighs at all ; but fays nought : being one 
 That locks his words up and himfelf with them : 
 Whom, hence, we cannot underftand or know. 
 We like nought thus ; and, where fuch is, condemn ; — 
 Call our new Earl " Coldhearted, dull, and flow." 
 But is he this? — or, not? — His deeds will fliow. 
 I tell to thee what others tell of each. 
 
attfiiot (fSvconiaolts, 227 
 
 The beings of the world doom often wrong. 
 Defame, and fcorn: — What! Shall thofe of my fong 
 Ne'er err at all in aught they work or teach? 
 No mortal can: think not, Volmar will, then. 
 All paintings of our kin, at laft, are none. 
 They too are beings; — are our own mind's men: 
 Who wander o'er the world when we be gone. 
 Their hearts may feem as ill as thine to ken; 
 Their deeds, as ftrange; — as hard to con: — 
 
 (BtV* " Is named, Melith ?— Melith :— Why wilt not look?— 
 I'll marry thee, Melith : — Give, monk, that book: — 
 I fpeak it o'er the miflal; — by my fword; 
 And, ere the fun go down, will keep my word." 
 2MlI, " Heaven blefs you. Earl!"— 
 (§tr, " But fhe — fhe anfwers nought." 
 
 OTlL"0, lady, fpeak!"— 
 
 <BtV* " 'Twould make her glad, methought." 
 
 Q 2 
 
III." Look, lady! Hear! Ye ftill can be fo bleft." 
 Mtl* " Leave— I care not." — 
 (Ser. " Well. Let her fleep. 'Tis beft. 
 
 I'll watch here my young wife ;—Ho6-ha !— I too need reft. " 
 
^ Wittk 
 
 after tje JHarriage^ 
 
XXXV. 
 
 'npHE wedding's o'er. It was a gloomy one. 
 Though hordes of Normans revell'd at the feaft. 
 Now Cefter's Earl is lord o'er Hallentun ; 
 But, where he would be moft fo, is it leaft; — 
 Leaft o'er the heart which poor-born Ercon won. 
 
 That little thing is bow'd not with his might ; 
 
 Nor heeds his love — his love, which thoufands crave. 
 
 Now life hath nought wherein flie can delight. 
 
 The whole world feems to her one deep deep grave ; — 
 
 Her darling's grave o'er-gloom'd with endlefs night. 
 
232 ^ttiiot QSvconixiOlli, 
 
 Where are the gems and rings fo lately there? — 
 The fky-blue hood? — fheen orange robe? — All gone! 
 Now mournful black enrobes this grieving fair : 
 Which makes the wannefs of her cheek more wan ; — 
 More golden bright, each playing lock of hair. 
 
 Ye mind how they, as lord and captive, met? 
 He holds her now in honour, — far above 
 Aught elfe below ; — does all that fhe forget 
 Dear Erc and father ; — pitying, learns to love ; 
 And hopes that time may make her kinder yet. 
 
 He ne'er was gifted with the balmy fpeech, — 
 The craft to footh or heal the breaft of woe 
 (Which but kind Love in forrow fchool'd can teach) ;- 
 Is, fays the world, coldhearted, dull, and flow ; — 
 The grave of all he feels and all may know. 
 
iRftilOt CfrcotttooHr. 233 
 
 Now raifed above himfelf, he's wont to fhow 
 The half-moon neb,* whofe ends would reach his ears ;- 
 Up, mighty earl ! (Le Ckarretier's below.) — 
 Would gild his words ; — likes home * * * -j- 
 Gold more than fame, albeit In life's beft years. 
 
 He left his hearth to follow toilfome war, — 
 Not for its glory, — for its ftate and pelf. 
 But now he'll reft ; — leave all to kind Volmar : 
 Who'll plume his helmet as it pleafe himfelf. 
 And wield the fceptre while his lord's afar. 
 
 He, feated yon now by his mourning bride, 
 
 Bids her be glad : while tears fteal down her cheek. 
 
 She tries in vain to hide : — 
 
 (BtV* Be hearten' d, good Melith. — Mourn not, I pray. — 
 I love thee well. — What wilt thou have us do ? — 
 Cleave now to me. — If aught here fail thee, fay. 
 
 * Mouth. t MS. is here illegible.— Ed. 
 
234 (ffllili'^ (JPrcontoolir. 
 
 £SltL Thanks, gentle Earl: — Ye're kind: — Unfar from here, 
 Erc's widow'd mother and poor fifter dwell : 
 On whom, in thefe fad days of grief and fear. 
 More ill might fall. If aught could give me cheer. 
 It were to meet them ; for I love them well. — 
 They pine fo for their darling ; — Ah ! they do : — 
 His mother — Oldandweak! — Who'll love now thee? — 
 And thee, poor fifter ? — This I crave of you, — 
 That ye, my kind lord, let them dwell with me ; 
 For none are fafe where your grim Normans be. 
 
 (BtV* Would'ft have them here ? Well ; — well, then, I will fee. 
 
 J¥lrt* Now poor as they, I have nought more to boon ; 
 
 Nor more dare afk : who had nor friends nor home ! 
 Bid, my good lord, — O do now ! — bid them come ; 
 But let it, if thou love me, be done foon. 
 (BtV* Soon, Dear, — Ay: — ^i toft donne, deuz fois donne; 
 VoLMAR fays oft. Yes : I can bid — But ftill, — 
 Well, come with me; and tell him where they won; 
 For he's a Gentil-man, — 
 
 fSitl* O thanks 1 Let us go ! — 
 
 (Sf r» And likes to do my lady's will. — 
 
 \_Exeunt. 
 
XXXVI. 
 
 ikw JiHa and $4Mi\ anirji at i^ ^astl^. 
 ih^tii Rutins with faig ijjifkM. 
 
 'T'HE poor ones come. The pale bride fees them near;- 
 Now meets lame Hilda; — makes her reft; 
 And, killing her, — for Ergon's fake fo dear! — ■■ 
 Falls, fobbing, on her breaft. — 
 
 ♦ Shed out thy tears o'er me. — 
 
236 (ffflilire iSwottlDOia. 
 
 iWotfttr. Erc gone for aye! 
 
 My fon ! Would Heaven— My fon ! Oh, this at laft ! 
 
 My hope, my life, — all blighted with one blaft! 
 
 He, the poor widow's — he, her only ftay ! 
 jTOeLOh! Oh! What woe! My father gone! — all gone! 
 
 Mine ownERc's Love ! Thou poor forlorn dear one ! 
 ii5lOtJ)tr«Oh! Had I look'd on all, — could I ha.ve feen 
 
 My darling fall; — have borne him off the ground; — 
 
 Have watch'd his dear ^^«r blood gufh from its wound: 
 
 His end were not fo dreadful as I ween; — 
 
 So grim as that which dark Thought fays he bore ! 
 
 To leave in health; and come — Ah, never more! 
 
 To fleet away as though he ne'er had been! — 
 iiKeLAh, truth, poor Mother!— 
 JHOtl^en 'Tis as if my fon 
 
 Had died a thoufand dreadful deaths in one ! 
 
 I aik and aflc. The whole world moans but "Dead!" 
 
 How long he Hnger'd;— where was hurt;— none know! 
 
^tfixot iswottiuoia, 237 
 
 "Is flain, is flain" Dear heart! What little faid 
 To tell us fo much woe! — 
 My father too! — To give up all moft dear! — 
 Leave friends and home!— leave, bent on mighty deeds. 
 With glorious plans for many a coming year! — 
 £iSLOtfftt*i built up all my hopes on that dear one; — 
 
 My foul's delight! I gave him every thought; — 
 Lived but for him ! Now all — Oh, all is gone ! 
 My long hard life has been for nought! — 
 £iSitl* What mournful death ! It leaves no balm behind ; — 
 No fond laft dying look; — no gloomy cheer 
 Of having help'd when moft we had been kind; — 
 No grave to deck, no-where to Ihed a tear; — 
 No time for fweet forgivenefs of aught done, — 
 To mend our wrongs with love ! Ah ! yet, as then, 
 I hear and fee them ; — fee now all they wore. 
 They feem not dead. 'Tis as if both were gone 
 To far far land; — will come ere long again: — 
 Ah, never never more! — 
 
238 &Ulot iSwonluooltrf 
 
 JWOtfetr. Kind caring mothers! Could ye but forefee — 
 Know what your darling ones may come to be. 
 How heavy were your burden ! — 
 Mtl Ah ! Be cheer'd,— 
 
 0iOtfftV, Nay ! If ye faw their tale of life unfurl'd, — 
 
 Saw all that waits them in this tumbling world. 
 Your heart would die before they half were rear'd. 
 Jiflel.1 fpurn'd you fo that day; — Ah! little thought 
 
 That our high rank would go fo foon to nought; — 
 That I fhould foon be poor as ye were then: — 
 Oh, with what pride I walk'd on Ruin's brink ! — 
 But 'twas forgiven. Why fpeak of this again? 
 That ill deed firft endear'd. Thus let our fin 
 Teach us to rue; and rue, to love our kin! — 
 My forrows meeken; — weigh my mind to think; — 
 Have bow'd the heart of Woden's daughter thus; — 
 Made her, ere cheery, deeply mufe and ween. 
 'Tis woe to fee what time can make of us ! 
 Where nowis thatwhich Woden's houfe hath been ? 
 
CtfJUae JBrconU)oltr« 239 
 
 It lies with all its glory in the duft! — 
 Blown down for aye by one ill guft! — 
 ilUjt&fr.My darling Erc! — What bitter throe to bear! — 
 What fleepless nights and anxious days to rear! 
 What forrow! — Ah, what never-ending care! 
 As crowns to kings, fo was to me my Dear! 
 His early lifp — What gladden'd fo mine ear ! 
 To mark his little Hep ! — What fweet delight 
 To fee him in his firfl: red tunic dight ! — 
 Ha ! fee my darling grow from year to year ! 
 " And when he's grown to manhood" I would fay 
 "I wonder what kind maid he'll take to wife? 
 " How happy I Ihall be on that glad day !" 
 But now — Oh ! Oh ! 'Tis more than I can bide ! 
 'Twill quench my flickering lamp of life ! — 
 Had it pleafed Heaven — If I, worn out, had died ; 
 If that poor helplefs girl — But Erc ! My fon ! — 
 In all life's fulness ! Erc, my darling pride ! — 
 0ith I forrow with thee, mourning our dear one ; — 
 
 Yes, mourning as that kind wife would have done. 
 
24° CFijillrj CPwonlDoKi. 
 
 M0ti)tt* But what of this do mighty rulers ken ? 
 
 Who flack the reins of kingdoms in their hold; 
 
 Then gamble with their poorer fellow-men. 
 
 As dicers with their gold ! — 
 iJBl^I, Nay, moan not more! Look up! Am I not thine? 
 
 Now all your wants and all your cares are mine. 
 
 Come. Lean on me. Dear mother ! Come within. 
 ;JKOtlbf r* Iri this I know your goodnefs, ethel * one ! 
 
 Without your help, kind lady, — 
 iKlel. Nay, have done! 
 
 Call LiTHA, Daughter; — from this eve begin: 
 
 Our forrows make us all akin. 
 iWOti^^r. Ah, blefs thee ! blefs thee ! Such kind love from thee! 
 
 To care for us poor ones when ye too moan, — 
 
 Are laden fo with forrows of your own ! 
 
 'Tis building up in Heaven what aye will be. 
 
 How I mifdeem'd! Erc well might love thee beft. 
 
 I call'd you. Proud — Forgive me ! O, be bleft ! 
 iWtl. Now come ; — Take time, dear Mother. Lean on me. 
 
 Come to thy room, and reft — \_Exeunt. 
 
 * Noble. 
 
XXXVII. 
 
 M tolntaii tMnh, h^aiis and uiilla. 
 
 Tl/'HO ftruts with fuch an awing pace 
 Before yon caftle-wall ? — 
 
 Ha ! now I fee his beardlefs face. 
 'Tis lady-like and fmall. 
 
 He, clad in fteel, fo bold and fheen. 
 
 Is yare for any ftiock. 
 A goodlier blending ne'er was feen 
 
 Of man and fighting-cock. 
 
242 dl^iHr* 3ErconiDOlIi« 
 
 The fenefchal is come to know, — 
 But hear ye what they fay : — 
 
 ^tn* I bade you afk the Count — 
 
 2^0l, • Speak up ! Why fpeak fo low? — 
 
 ^en* About that land — 
 
 WOh To be fure, I did, man ! — yefterday. 
 
 ^tn. What faid he ? 
 
 WOh Rubb'd his long jaws, — "fVe-e will/ee;" — 
 
 " ff^e-e ca-an think ofity'' — ^what he always fays to me. 
 
 ^tn. Why, hang it ! 
 
 S^OU Tes ; he's an eafy toll-loll. He's tall 
 
 He does no harm ; — when that is faid, 'tis all ; — 
 Pays what he owes; does what he muft andfhould — 
 What Nature makes him : thafs his mongrel-good ! 
 Purfeo ne park boef? ^il n'ad ajfez de langue. 
 There is no kindling his cold heart and head ; — 
 He love I He's juft the fame. Nought melts /^/j lead. 
 
(SffiUst MBvconiuolt), 243 
 
 ^flt* Where is he now ? 
 
 Wol* From home. 
 
 ^tn* But he wanted me : 
 
 He faysj he'll get me — 
 Woh Get th&t fiddlededee ! 
 
 He's gone to Cefter, man ; — lolls there all day. 
 When his Good comes, we're old or turn'd to clay. 
 Ere I live thus with him, I'll fee him far. 
 I'll make the world foon hear who is Volmar ! — 
 I will, par Gamm! — What Saxon dog there — Ho! 
 I'll have thee hang'd; — thee, varlet! Pack and go! 
 What wilt here ? 
 ^ ^ I Ah! Unloofe me, lord! and I — 
 
 WoL What, flave!-- What wilt thou ? Prate out, thief, or die ! 
 ^a)C0tt»Hold,lord!Icome-IfeekCHiLDEERCON'smother; 
 Bear tidings — 
 Wol* Tidings, fcout ? 
 
 ^ajTOn* Yes;ofherfon,— 
 
 R 2 
 
24+ <fft)iHie ISwotttooHr. 
 
 Vol* A flate's offihy roof. Whence art (/lou, Homefpun? 
 ^ajCOttt I was his bandfman ; — reach'd my houfe laft night, — 
 
 l:!)^!!!* Fool ! Ercon's dead. 
 ^a)COn» He fell not in the fight. 
 
 He lives near Dover, in a gaol there ; — 
 Yfol Who— 
 
 Who told thee that ? 
 ^nXOn* I know it— 
 
 UoL Ha? Iftrue?— 
 
 Set thy mind's fmithy well to work, Volmar ! — 
 Win our dear lady? — and fo win him too? — 
 If fhe'd think well of me? — I have it! He's won! 
 He'll give me then what I want at Hallentun ! — 
 Come thou, — Senefchal, go. Enough of that to-day! 
 Here ! follow me, Saxon ! This way ! — 
 
 l^Exeuni. 
 
XXXVIII 
 
 
 ^tl. T BADE VoLMAR guard welLyour houfe. 'Tis done. 
 Then ftay with us. Ye're fafe at Halkntun. 
 
 Woh (Entering.) Well? Whafs /^^ done now? — I heard 
 his name. 
 If any fpeak of him, it is to blame. 
 How fares my lady? 
 
 Better, fir, to-day. 
 I, Who fpoke of me, then? — Let this Kly-hand, — 
 
2+6 €t)iiae ISwontooHr. 
 
 In homage kilT'd, — as fceptre, o'er us fway : 
 
 What ye would have your fervant do, command. 
 
 J¥l(L Thanks, fir,— 
 
 Wol, What's wrong with that window ? — Breton fools ! 
 
 They've — Rack it! — They've — If I had now my 
 
 tools, — 
 
 JMOtfttr«This knight ftrives hard to cheer. 
 
 ;0lth Ah! ftrives, 'tis true; — 
 
 Not to pleafe us, but fhow what he can do. 
 
 JMOtlbfl'*He fpeaks our tongue as folk of other land; — 
 
 Blends with it words I cannot underftand. 
 iHtlJt is new Englifti. 
 
 0iOtt)tV* Yea, forfooth, 'tis new; — 
 
 WjjL They've fpoil'd the— Fools! — They've — I can't 
 
 fix it now. 
 
 J^ltl* Leave it, kind fir, — 
 
 "iJoL It makes fuch a dfuced row! 
 
 I've brought you here— You like flowers, eh ? I knew— 
 
 Some rofes; — fweeter, I'll take my oath, ne'er grew. 
 
^tfivot asvcon'moi'o. 247 
 
 Ifyou'davafe,rdfill— Ha! fee /A^rf, there's one;— 
 
 Why, it's broken!— Well :— Ay -.—Well:— How's 
 that? That'll do! 
 
 Ehf 
 MtL Thanks, fir,— 
 Uol EbF 
 
 Mth 'Tis fweet. 
 
 UjjI. Ay. Mother thought. 
 
 Her Folmy was the man to garnifh aught; — 
 
 Dear foul fhe was! But, lady, you're fo fad. 
 " Peiit d, petit y I'oifeau fait Jon nid." 
 
 You'll find us hated Normans not fo bad; — 
 
 Nay, rack that old window! — Mother mourns fo too. 
 
 I call you. Mother: mine was fo like you. 
 
 Some people told you that your fon was flain; 
 
 But it ftrikes me, you'll fee him foon again; — 
 JHeLWhy? How? 
 jaOtl)en Ah, never! 
 
248 (StfiXOe iEMOttlMOltr. 
 
 WOU Never? I fay as I faid: 
 
 It ftrikes me forcibly, Ercon is not dead; — 
 
 Mth But why, fir? Why? 
 
 Wol* Well! Since I have begun, — 
 
 It's not a tale I'd tell to every one; — 
 Not for the Count. What he could cleave in two ; — 
 Twice grind and fwallow; — might, perchance, be true. 
 However, for your good, I'll tell It you. — 
 E'er fince I was a child in Normandie, 
 A little animal has follow'd me. 
 It follows fome, — in millions, maybe, one; 
 And then but when a good work fhall be done. 
 'Tis four-legg'd, little, — juft about the cat's fize; — 
 Has fnowy locks : which, like white filk, long hanging, 
 
 fall. 
 But — what, my lady, is moft ftrange of all — 
 It has a baby's face with large black eyes, — 
 
<ffi)tHic ©rcotttooHi. 249 
 
 A lovely baby's! I'll take my oath, it's true! 
 My head on that! 
 Mil* But what has it to do 
 
 With Erconwold? 
 
 Why, if you'll liften, I'll fliow,— 
 But — Rack that old window! — fliaking,clattering fo! — 
 It has to do. Well known in Normandie, 
 'Tis call'd, Letiche. It always follows me; 
 Yet rarely fliows itfelf; — then but at night. 
 And moft ere Chriftmas Eve in full-moon's light. 
 Now, as it comes, — Mind ! it never was caught, — 
 I'm fuddenly ftruck with difmal dreadful thought; — 
 Then hear the woeful moans of that fad one ; 
 And cannot reft till all it wants, be done. 
 Laft night, — Now liften! — ftartled from my fleep, 
 I paced about ; and fear'd — I'd fain know, w/iat! 
 Fear, fince my baby-hood, has been forgot. 
 At laft, I heard it come ; — flow, foftly, creep ; — 
 
Then lightly ruftle, — It darted from under rtiy bed. 
 
 Swift as an arrow, over the moonlit room! 
 
 I fought it long ; but found it not. 'Twas fled. 
 
 But then I heard, as out of hollow tomb, 
 
 A deep fad moan. At laft, it, whining, faid : — 
 
 " Tell thy good lady, Ercon is not dead ! " 
 
 ilfilel* Where living, then ? It told thee nothing more? 
 
 IJtiI, Nothing, my lady. It won't tell all before. 
 It comes the firft time but to ftir the mind ; 
 Then vanifties ; yet leaves me power behind 
 To call it up once on the following day. 
 Mark ! after that, I have no more to fay. 
 But, in that while, 'twill either tell or Ihow, 
 By words or vilion, all I choofe to know ! — 
 
 Yfoh What's fFhai ? Vifion ? I cannot teach. 
 
 If you can't comprehend, your Saxon fpeech. 
 
©time (JPwontoolli. zs» 
 
 Now, when my eyes are with a kerchief bound, 
 
 I'll anfwer where Childe Ercon may be found ; 
 
 I'll tell you what a fpirit cannot tell, — 
 
 I will, par Gamm ! 
 iWtL Why, that were wondrous wife ! 
 
 Uol, I b'lieve you ! Few are gifted. Bind my eyes. 
 
 Here, take this kerchief, lady ; tie it well. 
 
 LetIche, when I can't get a glimpfe of day. 
 
 Will come unfeen ; and teach me what to fay. 
 i!HOti)fl\But that were witching — 
 
 Uol, Witching, my grannyhoodl 
 
 Letiche is white, — a fpirit but of Good. 
 
 Don't think, I'm one of Old Nicneven's crew. 
 if8lOtI)£l%What wondrous things thefe fremmed * folk can 
 do!— 
 iJHel* There, it is tied. 
 'iJuJ. I fee nought. Lead. — 
 
 * Foreign. 
 
252 (EtfilOe ©rcotttajolft. 
 
 Mtl Sit here.— 
 
 UoU Inquire now: — O Letiche, Letiche, come near! 
 
 Jil^LI am afraid — 
 
 Uol. Dread not. 
 
 Mtl Then,— Where is he ? 
 
 IJoI* Letiche! Letiche! Letiche! — Ha! now I fee; — 
 The cliiF of Dover moves before my eyes ; — 
 Ha ! now a prifon. In it — What is there ? — 
 A pale knight gazing at a lock of hair ; — . 
 
 Mth O Saints !— 
 
 'Yfoh On bed of ftraw — Ay; yon he lies : — 
 
 iWOtl^fr.I trow not!— 
 
 IJoI, Ah, what chains ! I hear them clafli ; — 
 
 His arm in fling ! — His brow with bloody gafh ! — 
 A book is there ; — Stay ! — O'er the back of it, — 
 "Childe" — E-R-c-o-N. "Childe Ercon" 's writ. 
 What fays he? Hark! — "Dear (iear Melith!" 
 he cries; — 
 
^ffiltst ISrrdnUioltr. 255 
 
 Mil O quick! I muft know it! Whomflialll bid? Ofeek! 
 Wul* What more would you have? 
 Mtl* Enough ! Enough ! Sad ? Weak ?— 
 
 Bound in a dark gaol? Wounded? — Send to me — 
 But how — What fhall I do! My lord— Where— 
 Where is he ? 
 Wot At Cefter, lady. He'll be foon at home, — 
 Jilri* Oh, thou canft go ! Why wait till he may come? 
 Wol 'Tis juft to tell him, lady. Bid him fend 
 
 To Count Dis What's his name ? He's our old 
 
 friend ; — 
 But he's the man to fet him free — 
 MtL Ah! Where— 
 
 To wait fo long, while Erc is pining there! 
 Wol, (Afide.) " Volmar's no fool," all after Mw will fay ! 
 IKf L O Mother, if 'twere true ! 
 ^OVatX, Ah, child! Ah, nay! 
 
 J^f I, Oh, true or falfe, he's loft now — loft to me for aye ! — 
 
254 ((ttiUtft Havcon'moiif. 
 
 FOl. Both weeping ?— Ah !— This ought to melt his Flemiih 
 lead : — 
 If that- fool fhould tell another what he faid ? — 
 I'll after him quick! If he— I'll break his head! (14) 
 
 [Exit. 
 
XXXIX. 
 
 T OOK through the narrow chink in that dread tower. 
 Look down ; — How deep ! There is enough of light. 
 
 That fetter'd man within may fee 
 Thofe grim black walls ; and, while they deathful lower. 
 Mind that God's earth without is funny bright ; — 
 
 That others wander free. 
 
 And while — But who is that fad wailing one ? — 
 What mournful Ihape ? — It leans there 'gainft the wall. 
 'Tis fome poor man — fome wounded knight 
 
256 Cfitlli^ (j^wontooltr. 
 
 Weigh'd down with forrow, fetter'd, woe-begone ; 
 With drooping head : whence fable trefles fall 
 O'er cheek fo funk and white. 
 
 His left arm hanging down, the right is tied 
 With gory fling. A kerchief binds his brow. 
 He gazes on the ground in fad deep mufe, — 
 Ha ! fuddenly draws a dagger from his fide ! — 
 He holds it forth ! — What will he with it now. 
 When life is nought to lofe ! — 
 
 He tries its point ! — That weapon foon can heal 
 Hig pining wounds ; — foon eafe him of all care ; — 
 Break every fetter ; — launch him — Now he goes ! — 
 Is near the bench ! — now takes that dreadful fleel ! — 
 Lo, carves a darling name — " Melitha" — there ; 
 And fighs o'er it a prayer. 
 
(S'flillie iSrcontuoltr. 257 
 
 So loftj ye think, are fuch as look unbleft I 
 Ye'd afk what they can love, or care about ? 
 
 Who rules great worlds, rules them and him. 
 How heavenly hope gleams ftill in his poor breaft ! 
 It is a better fun than that without ; — 
 
 Shines bright when all's fo dim. — 
 
 That name is carved. — He feeks the bed of ftraw ; — 
 Falls on it, weary, fighing; — tries to reft; 
 And dream away the long, long, forrow-hour. 
 Yon is that Ercon whom we lately faw 
 So happy neftling in his lady's breaft, 
 Love-lull'd in rofy bower. 
 
 He knows not that Earl Wodennoth is (lain ; — 
 Ne'er weens, the foe could reach dear Hallentun : 
 But thinks, it foon will have to flee, — 
 
2s8 (SftiVae iSvconiaoia, 
 
 Soon overcome, hie quickly home again ; — 
 That Haftings loft, were not all England won ;- 
 That worfe could never be. 
 
 And this, in very deed, too muft have been 
 If each had loved his father-land as well : 
 
 The foe were never — Now he fpeaks :— 
 
 " What is wafte ? — or, fairy-land ? 
 Both were like if wanting thee ! 
 All without that little hand, — 
 All on earth were nought to me ! 
 
 " Lower, dark Walls ! I was before. 
 Far from her, as lone as here ; — 
 Should not like a palace more. 
 If my darling were not near ! 
 
ffifiiiae <!lwonU>ollr. 259 
 
 " If not where that dear one be, — 
 If from her, what matter where ? 
 Heaven would feem no heaven to me. 
 Were my Life of life not there ! — 
 
 " Look here on this wither'd flower ! — 
 Touch'd by her, thou ftill art bleft ! — 
 Ah ! In what a blifsful hour, 
 Wert thou ftolen from her breafl; ! — 
 
 " Thou too. Lock ! — Erc's only cheer ! — 
 Were I but where thou haft lain ! — 
 Shorn away from thofe fo dear. 
 Wilt thou fly to them again ? — 
 
 " Fly ! and bring my Love to me ; 
 
 Tell her how I forrow here ; — 
 
 Ah ! — But wherefore mourn to thee ? 
 
 She is ever, ever, near ! — 
 
 s 2 
 
" Senfelefs I was borne away 
 From the deathful battle-field; — 
 Heard of nought before to-day. 
 When my felling gaih was heal'd. — 
 
 " Ye, hard Fetters, cannot bind ! — 
 Gloomy Walls ! fcowl down and lower : 
 Ercon dwells in heart and mind. 
 Near his lady's rofy bower ! 
 
 « But— If falfe ?— Saints ! Never ! No ! 
 Down, O fiendilh Elf ! Begone ! — 
 Two that love each other fo. 
 Are, and muft abide, but one ! — 
 
 " LlTHA ! LiTHA !" 
 
 Sleep ends his wild love's ftrain. 
 He lives once more in fleeting realms of blifs : — 
 
dljiHie <JB^rtonta)i)ltr. 261 
 
 Sees glorious Merfey ; — wanders free. 
 Nigh happy home, with his dear Love again ; — 
 With his Melitha ; — her that was — not is. 
 
 And yet will ever be. — 
 
 We'll leave thee, Erc, in world that Fancy fways ; 
 To find yet there what was in this real one, — 
 
 Was that itjoon might never be! 
 Wake not to mourn: dreams were thy happieft days; — 
 But dreams of her at Saxon Hallentun, 
 
 When our dear land was free ! — 
 
XL. 
 
 % |iIMst ^nUp m ^ui 
 
 ^Vittt, jy/[ A Y Heaven, in mercy, watch o'er thee, my fon ! — 
 Art thou afleep ? — 
 QSVC, Ha! Who?— 
 
 mietU Arife. 
 
 ©W. Who's there ? 
 
 Ilrtf (t. A friend that comes — 
 
 aSvc, A friend ? — from Hallentun ? 
 
 Say ! What — Our Earl — what tidings doft thou bear ? 
 ^VitiU Poor raving man ! Is every fenfe fo dead ? 
 My cope fhould tell — 
 <Btc, Keep not a word from me ! 
 
264 (SffilOt iBtconijDOia* 
 
 Pri(ft. I ne'er faw Hallentun, nor ken I thee ; 
 But, yeftereve, in Dover, heard it faid : 
 That thou, (o famed for deeds at Stamford fight, 
 Wert pining here, Seeft not this alb ? — this White? 
 Crf ♦ Ha ! Holy father ! At thy feet,— Forgive ! 
 
 Prifft« Arife, my fon : arife. — I bring thee here — 
 
 An oaten cake ; and there — good wine to cheer : 
 But moll am come for that thy foul may live 
 And drink the water of eternal life ; — 
 (Bl'tt What, holy man ! already doom'd to die ? 
 
 ^rt'(Ct« No more than others in this deathful ftrife ; — 
 Than he, the Keeper, there ; — no more than I. 
 We walk thus through the palace or the gaol. 
 To gladden fuffering man. Now, for thy weal, 
 I come to thee ; left Hope, grown weary, fail. 
 For into thefe fad homes, where gloom and want 
 Caft down the foul, the fiend delights to fteal ; 
 And work eternal bale. 
 <BVtt Ah ! What can ftill in me this anxious fear ! — 
 This endlefs longing after all fo dear ! — 
 Ah ! all fo nigh — in mufing, ever feen ; 
 
©IjilUe iSiconUJoKJ. 265 
 
 Yet far as though wide oceans roll'd between ! 
 Thefe fetters grieve ; but hope and fear at ftrife — 
 This pining yearning love wears out my life ! 
 
 ^9l'ltft»Our blefled Healer, Who redeem'd all men. 
 
 Will break thoje bonds : to Whom moft thou art dear. 
 He looks from Heaven down on thy sufferings here. 
 Delight and hope in Him, Thus find, till then, 
 A fweet reviving in this home of forrow. 
 All turns to Good. Gloom not with anxious fear. 
 Let each fad day truft in the coming morrow : 
 Our heavenly Lord is ever near, 
 (&XU Thefe kind words, father, ought to hearten me, 
 
 |9l'lfCt« Moft joys are forrow-born. Glad end will be. 
 Oft Woe thus cradles Weal. In after-years. 
 We reap the Good now fown with toil and tears. 
 Thus heroes 'mid the crowd (ftill all unknown 
 But to themfelves), in forrow, poor, and lone. 
 Brood mighty deeds ; — toil, hoard up ftrength to rife. 
 Thus banifh'd kings, cafl down and taught to moan. 
 Find Good in rue to win again their throne. 
 
266 fflijiHre ISrcotttaionr. 
 
 Bear all, then, for thy weal : in fuffering lies 
 Oft that we need to make us great or wife. 
 aSl't* Thefe are right words to bid me forrow lefs. 
 
 And fhould upheave my foul from wretchednefs. 
 But I'd fain know, why yet, by Norman will, 
 Thefe hard links bind? — how long they'll do fo ftill? 
 Was Haftings loft ? 
 pruft* Ah! thence our woes are fprung. 
 
 (0rr» What bedlings* let them further? 
 pritft Know'ft not? 
 
 (Qvt* Nought. 
 
 None will come hither. Whence could I learn ought? 
 My Norman keepers cannot fpeak our tongue. 
 ^mft* Wert thou not there? 
 
 <Stt* Yes, as the fight began; 
 
 But fince have eyed nor fun nor living man. 
 I foon was fell'd ; — came here again to life. 
 What tidings of our king ? 
 ^rfeft. Ah, dreadful ftrife ! 
 
 Oh, bitter day ! Some tell that he was flain ; 
 * Weak efFeminate pcrfons. 
 
(£t^il^^t ©wottUjoia. 267 
 
 Butj then, his corfe is noTwhere found. 
 Far more believe, he fled to come again ; — 
 To meet the Duke on other ground ; — 
 Is gathering might afar to fnare the foe, — 
 Some think, at York. 'Tis hard to fay : 
 'Tis pafl: all finding out ; for none can know 
 What has been done fince that ill day. 
 The Duke went fouthward hence fome weeks ago ; — 
 Left Normans here : who keep our town in hold. 
 We truft, the king will drive them foon away. 
 Such wondrous tales of all are feign'd and told. 
 Although 'tis death to tell our mind. 
 Now Dover is fo trampled down and grieved 
 By routs whom William left behind. 
 We pray that Harold come to fet us free ; 
 And, as all wifh it mofl:, 'tis moft believed 
 That this will be. 
 (BtC* Then he'll unfetter me ! 
 
 Then, Hallentun .'—then back to thee ! 
 ^ritft, I muft now leave thee. Peace to — Ha ! I forgot — 
 Two more will come to-day to fliare thy lot. 
 
268 ^ffiiot iBrcontoJOIU. 
 
 &VC. Two more will come ? 
 ^tieft. They'll foon be here, I ween. 
 
 We call one, Sturla ; — Heed me. Roufe ! 
 mc. Ah ! Well ? 
 
 What Is he, father ? 
 ^Vittt, That were hard to tell. 
 
 'Tis far more light to prove what he hath been. 
 QSvc, And both are Englifh ? 
 Urieft. Even fo, my fon ; 
 
 But fuch as walk not their good fathers' way ; — 
 Were born a thoufand years before their day ; — 
 Outlandifh Englifh. Ah, our race is run : 
 Our Holy Church goes down for aye ! 
 QBVC, What were their ill deeds ? 
 '^Vitft* Foreign fpeech and climes — 
 
 Outlandifh wonts have made them what they are. 
 Since they came home, they've lived fo ajar 
 With all that is; — with their own felves and times : 
 Aye flirring up our land to mental war. 
 (BVC, He dwells in Dover ? 
 Ilt'tfft. Yes. Both have been there — 
 
 Eight years, I heard, — or, fince they ceafed to roam. 
 
They were before in every land at home ; — 
 Roved far and wide ; — lived here or anywhere. 
 This Sturla was at firft a Mercian prieft ; — 
 &TC, He knows, then, Hallentun ! — 
 Urieft. But loft erelong 
 
 His alb and church for having done fome wrong. 
 
 He liked fo well to riot and to feaft. 
 
 He then tried every craft ; but fail'd in all. 
 
 Then roved to Denmark, Frankenland, and Rome ; — 
 
 Return'd at laft to teach us fools at home. 
 
 Some trow'd that he had feen Garlta's Wall. (15) 
 
 And, as the folk of Dover heard him fpeak 
 
 The many tongues 'twixt Frankifti and old Greek, 
 
 All marvell'd fo ! Some ween'd that it was done 
 
 By crafty working of hell's Evil One. 
 
 He then wrote fbngs; but foon forfook the mufe ; — 
 
 Became a Criticus — a — What is it ? — 
 
 We have no word ; — and penn'd, with biting wit. 
 
 What, in outlandifh tongue, be call'd Reviews. 
 
 But,lo! theNormanscame. He fear'd for nought ; — 
 
 Strove with them too; — did as he'd ever wrought; — 
 
27° CJjilii^ iSwonkooKr. 
 
 Wrote, with moft gaily pen, farcaftic verfe 
 On Norman lords. This made them pang us worfe. 
 For this they had him caught. 
 (Bvt* What little crime ! Our woes will make us one. 
 He may have heard good things of Hallentun. 
 
 Pri'tftt His life's great game is loft : its fweets are gall : 
 His only glee is now to fneer at all. 
 Full oft, with wounding gibe and laughing grin. 
 He doles out truth; — tears off the veil of fin: 
 But never heeds if Good or Evil win. 
 ^Vt* Ah me ! — Poor man ! 
 
 ^ri^ftt Grieve not for him, my fon; — 
 
 Nay,' rather learn to fear this baneful one : 
 Whofe adder-tongue and evil-brooding mind 
 Strive but to fhow the weaknefs of his kind. 
 He fpies the wounds of all to lay them bare ; 
 And looks on nought, however good or fair, — 
 On nought in this wide world, unlefs to find 
 The Bad that may be there. 
 d*C» It Is a fick mind's ailing ; — fome men's way : 
 Whofe heart, yet meaning well, — 
 
(S'^ilBt <J^rcottU)OHi. 271 
 
 ^Viett. Ha ! Nay, fon ; nay ! 
 
 As bees feek honey, fo his evil mood 
 Seeks everywhere the Bad ; but leaves the Good. 
 He'd chide the rofe for being oft fo red ; 
 And make it brown or purple, if he could. 
 More in his mien, than in his words, is faid : 
 Which, as he drawls them, are as adder-flings. 
 Heed not this evil one ; nor mind his fpite. 
 Or aught he ween in hate, to priefts and kings. 
 He is a laughing, wafpifh, fneering wight ; 
 Who loves to fay but bitter things. 
 ^Xt. I heed all, holy man. Howe'er he jeer. 
 
 His words will never reach mine inward ear. 
 It hearkens but to that my fad heart fay 
 Of home and — one fo loved ! — fo far away ! 
 
 Pti^ft.His wit might fhame, were his own deeds the beft. 
 His truths might teach, if faid to better us. 
 But who will mind while he, in that he does. 
 Is ever light and drunken as the reft ? — 
 While he, great preacher ! is as weak, as blind. 
 As fond of our ill world, as any one ? 
 And would but fhine in all things faid or done, — 
 
272 (tiffiioe ^rtotmoia. 
 
 But plume himfelf and boaft his own great mind. 
 Heed, then, my words ; left thou too go his way. 
 Shun him, my fon ! 
 ^It* I care for nought he fay. 
 
 Were crowds around, yet I ftiould dwell alone ; — 
 Should rove afar in world that is mine own. 
 
 ^I'l'fft. I ken his fellow, Montogildas, leaft. 
 
 He was a monk while Sturla was a prieft ; 
 And, with his mate, liked more the brimming bowl. 
 The midnight-revel, fong of drunken glee. 
 Than mafs and rood or caring for his foul ; — 
 Caft off his cowl to live and riot free : — 
 Thus gave up endlefs life for this frail day ! — 
 Then, growing wealthy, rambled with his mate; — 
 Became as worldy wife. Both fared one way ; — 
 Muft now abide one fate. 
 CrC* Yet, father, I have heard but of their ill. 
 Is nought of Good left in them ftill ? 
 
 PrUft* The world dooms rightly here, albeit unkind. 
 I fpeak in fecret, — not to hurt. Heaven knows ! 
 Lock up thefe words, as treafures, in thy mind ; 
 
(StfiiOt mrcorWuolb, ' 273 
 
 Keep them from all as that mofl dear. 
 Both have one friend yet 'mid a world of foes ; — 
 An earl whom Sturla knew in Baldwin's Land. * 
 He came with Count Disard. They have no fear; 
 But hope that his kind helping hand 
 Redeem them foon from here. 
 They well, indeed, may hope ; for Count Disard 
 Has kindly boon'd, I heard, that, — once a day. 
 Both leave the gaol to walk a little way. 
 Kept under Norman guard ; — 
 That both here, as at home, have hearty cheer ; 
 And bring whate'er they like in food or drink. 
 I faw without their books, lamp, other gear ; — 
 Nay, — what is worft of all — their pen and ink. — 
 Thou would'll: be glad, methought, to learn all this : 
 Thou may'ft walkout with them. — Tet filent, fon ? 
 On what art mufing ? — 
 dSVt* Holy man ! What is — .? 
 
 Ha ! Thanks for thefe — I was at Hallentun. 
 
 * Flanders. 
 
274 (SffiUse IBvconinolO, 
 
 ^ritft«Thou canft rove out with them. 
 
 Crr* Ah, thanks to thee ! 
 
 But what were blooming fields around ? — 
 
 What, faireft paradife to me ? — 
 
 What, all the world while thus I'm bound ? — 
 
 Thus know, I breathe not free ? 
 
 Clear lake were but as noifome ftream ; 
 
 Sweet flowery valley's hill would feem 
 
 Like dungeon-wall of tyrant-foes ; 
 
 While, wither'd, droop'd the full-blown rofe ; 
 
 And the merry fong of free ones near 
 
 Fell like death-knell o'er mourner's ear. 
 
 Oh ! What can pang the lofty foul — 
 
 So caft it down — as this dire thought ? 
 
 That man muft walk by man's control ; — 
 
 That Heaven's free breath is fold and bought ! 
 
 As keen froft nips the bloomful tree. 
 
 So this grim thought chills all in me ; 
 
 Blighting each hope as it ftrives to be ! — 
 ^ri'eft* Whence fhall I help while all is fo cafl down ?— 
 
 I cannot fend unto thy home for thee ; 
 
 For none dare enter, none dare leave, the town ; 
 
myiltit iEtcottUjoltr. 275 
 
 Ha, hark ! They come ! I hurry — Be ware ! 
 
 <Bvt*I will, good— 
 ^ri'eft. Hate whom the Holy hate !— 
 
 This dun-brow'd Sturla with his mate. 
 He ftoops ; — is lean ; has fleek black hair, 
 Long hanging ; is outlandifh dight : — 
 Wears golden cap with raven-feather ; 
 Short yellow cloak and tunic, bright 
 But recklefs hanging, loofe, and wide ; — 
 Has long hofe bandaged with red leather ; 
 And dagger dangling at his fide : — 
 But away ! — Live well ! Heaven guard thee, my fon. 
 From the craft and bane of the Evil One ! — 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 (BVt^ At laft, he's gone ! 
 
 Now can I reft again : — 
 
 His wearying tale of * * * 
 
 ****** 
 
 * Here the MS. is illegible. — Ed. 
 
 T '2. 
 
276 ©iJtKrj iErcoiHuoIti. 
 
 Are thefe poor men as bad as he would prove ? — 
 Ah ! fuch mull ne'er have known kind meekening love. 
 He hates them fo. How fweeter is the fin — 
 How eafier done ! — of loving well our kin ! 
 
 ■w ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ 
 
 ****** 
 
 Love, near that one, was heavenly joy below ; 
 
 And now, without her, is fuch pleafing woe ! — 
 
 Bears all in hope * * * * 
 
 ****** 
 
 •• Here the MS. is illegible.— Ed. 
 
XLI 
 
 
 IBuff,'y*HIS-Whew! Whet fmell of rats ond mice be here ! 
 ^tUr»What Hydro-Sulpho! — Come, Chub, bring the beer. 
 
 Hafte to thy mafter. Light the lamp. 
 IBuff* Aught moe? — 
 
 Beeft noo my lord? 
 ^tUr* Moon-face! I'll let him know! 
 
 IBuff.Haw! /can grin, — drawl through my nofe fo flow. 
 ^tUr«Ha, Flefh-vat? If I prate with him to-day, 
 
 He'll never mind to-morrow what I fay ? 
 
2 78 miVOe aSvconixyolXi. 
 
 IBuff* Wha watch'd our mefter gie thee gold laft night? — 
 
 He keeps us baith, methinks, to work or write? 
 ^tUr* Nay ! Here's a biter ! 
 IBuff* Haw! In your guid fchoolj 
 
 I maun grow like ye; elfe, I were a fool. 
 ^tUl% He'll crufh us all ! Ere he fhould daub in print, 
 
 I'd break his head and everything that's in't! — 
 33uff» Whew ! Rot thefe Counts! 
 ^tUl% Ha! ha! Now learns to curfe? 
 
 Good Law has put him here to make him worfe. 
 jBuff* Hong them! — ^The bench? — Grope! grope! 
 ^tur* Set down the books. 
 
 Buff. Whet! Thefe our ftraw-beds? 
 
 ^tUl% Ay: they're pretty nooks. 
 
 l3Uff*Wha lies. here? 
 
 ^tUr* Ha ! Another ?— Well, mate ? 
 
 aSn, - Well? 
 
 What tales abroad? 
 ^tUr» Hufh, man! I dare not tell. 
 
 (Bit* Methought, I could learn everything from thee. 
 Art thou not Sturla? 
 
(£tfiHi$ lEwottttioHr, 279 
 
 ^tlin Lo! Thy fervant's he. 
 
 Behold here his I-Have with his I-Am; — 
 A friend of cups and tickling epigram : 
 Who has been fool'd by Miftrefs World fo long, 
 As now to fee nought but the Foul and Wrong; — 
 To fee in her old phiz but frowns and pimples 
 Where once he faw fuch pretty leers and dimples. 
 <&Xt, Kenn'ft Hallentun and Wodennoth? 
 
 ^tur, ' Full well. 
 
 (0rr. Did he outlive the fight? 
 
 ^tur. I cannot tell. 
 
 He's fond of training little children up : 
 If he can't get them, then — a pretty pup. 
 How jogs Old Cefter ? What has there been done ? 
 How flits our evil day at Hallentun? 
 (j!5n. Ah, that I'd learn! 
 
 ^tUr« Would'ft be fo happy then? 
 
 Cheer up, man ! Rife ! We'll look about our den. 
 ®rf. What man goes there? 
 
 ^tur. He's MoNTOGiLDAs' Jack: 
 
 Who fays " My lord?" and "Yes, my lord!" for fack;- 
 
z8o (tt)iiiit iswontpollr. 
 
 Was born where Pidts and Scots were wont to dwell ;~ 
 
 Has learn'd among us how to talk and fpell; — 
 
 Can fing his gibberifli, fcribble, or abufe; 
 
 And foon will write for guid Reviews. 
 (0rC«When comes his mailer? 
 ^tUn Soon. 
 
 dSlC Who's he? 
 
 ^tUr* My friend;— 
 
 The genius of our day, to whom all bend; 
 
 The giant-mind that leads the gaping mafs; 
 
 The human lion o'er the human afs; 
 
 The beacon of our age: for he has writ 
 
 Some little tales full pretty wit. 
 (0rC»I met him once, methinks. How doth he look? 
 ^tm%Dark, — lemon-flcinn'd (thou'lt find him in his Book), 
 
 With round, big, rolling. Oriental eyes; 
 
 With forehead towering — fleeting in the Ikies 
 
 Through long dark locks: wherein great genius lies. 
 
 "CoNFUSio Cerebri" his grand Work hight. 
 
 It fet ten thoufand brains to whirl for fpite. 
 
 Man fpurns aught new ; — goes long to claffic fchool ; — 
 
 Won't think that, at the laft, he's but a fool. 
 
(StfUtie (j^tconUjoHr, 
 
 2«I 
 
 And 'tis right fad. It's me nice fport to own 
 That one can teach what all have never known : 
 Which " Cerebri Confufio" does fo well 
 That great men wifli it — Where? I will not tell. — 
 A pretty madhoufe and church-yard are near. 
 We'll thither, lad. There we can fip our beer; 
 And frifk on the livening Green. 
 €vt, I'll go with thee. 
 
 ^tUr»What faid our prieft? — He's very fond of me? — 
 I know him well. 
 ^Vt* He came to cheer — to fay — 
 
 ^tUr»To daub us on thy mind in his own way? — 
 
 Old World hath curdled in me Good to Evil; 
 
 And now, to boot, would call me. Devil. 
 
 What that one fays, is, was, and aye muft be; — 
 
 Earth never fed a greater rogue than he! 
 
 To grafp and crave; to fawn, hate, wreak, and feaft; — 
 
 If any do thefe well, it is a prieft. — 
 
 Here, youngling, — here's a bumper. Drink! 
 
 Laugh at life's whirligig. Don't think ; 
 
 For Bedlam is next door ; — Eh, Chub ? 
 
2 82 attiixat iBvconinoia* 
 
 I3u(f, SondChad! 
 
 We maun be wife if this ne drive us mad ! 
 gitur. Our world hath one of every leer and pall. 
 It muft be fo ; elfe, 'twere no world at all. 
 " But he who is—" 
 IBuff. He ! he ! Sing on ! 
 ^tur. Wilt learn i& .' ha! of me? 
 
 Thou'rt fo fed up that thou muft fqueak He ! he ! 
 " But he who is jolly, 
 " Is philofophcoUy — 
 " Is philofophcoUy inclined :" — 
 Buff. Whet's ;f//(7 — 
 gitut. 'Tis too learn'd for thy poor mind. 
 
 We'll talk here Norman, French, Greek, Latin now ; 
 And leave old Saxon to fuch boors as thou. 
 jPuflf* A learn'd one, thu ! Wilt teach us whet to fpeak? 
 
 Bith Bread and Cheefe, or Chee/e ond Bread, heOiGreek^ 
 StUt. Look to the lamp! Take hence thy collop-flank<! — 
 Here, Youthfuljdrink. Let old World play her pranks. 
 Head up, lad ! 
 (jSrc. Well .? 
 
(SffilOt 32tfOnU)Oltr. 283 
 
 S>tUt*. What has flie done to thee ? — 
 
 Come, roam with us. Pipe out to-day in glee. 
 &VC, Ah, well ! We'll go. 
 
 Stur. Laugh. Here's no tax or rent. 
 
 An hour without a grin is badly fpent. 
 Make England laugh, ye Wits ! She looks fo green ; — 
 Is full of bile — of fome old Doctor's fpleen. 
 Her faints have given her fuch a hang-dog leer ; — 
 Gloom'd her poor foul where fail'd her gin and beer. 
 Make England laugh, ye Wits ! She tipples well ; — 
 Can wrangle too on all 'yond Heaven and hell. 
 But let her be cheery ; — preach lefs gloomy loud ; — 
 Be ftill as holy, but not quite fo proud. 
 
 JBuff. Ne'er heed thet mon : he likes to gibe. 
 
 S»tur. What fay'ft, my chubby moon-faced fcribe ? 
 
 Art here to lofe thofe hanging cheeks of thine ? — 
 But come, young Worthy. Chirp! Why doft thou pine? 
 Tell me thy tale : — 
 
 IPilff, I follow. Wait! — 
 
 ajui;. Our prieft told mine. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
XLII. 
 
 ^t ?|allentun» 
 
 f 0lntm( mii %s It^r ^d to 
 ^r^& to Jouf. 
 
 iMel* \^AS it not fo, VOLMAR ? 
 
 WoL I'll take my oath, it was ! 
 
 JMf !♦ O fendj my lord ! — do, my good lord ! O fend ! 
 I too believe now that poor Erc Is there : 
 In dreadful dream, I faw his bleeding wound ; — 
 O fend, my gentle lord ! I pray you, fend ! 
 
 (Btl\ VoLMAR, 
 
286 ((^tfiiot ©rronlMOllr. 
 
 Well, fire? Well? 
 (BtV* I never heard before — 
 
 Why, thou haft had thy beard fhaved off. 
 2^0l, My hardF 
 
 JVell? What's that to do — 'Twas but a half of one. 
 
 The greateft men have generally had none. 
 (Stn I never heard, Letiche fo foUow'd thee? 
 Wol. It does, fire, — it does : it always follows me. 
 Jiflri* Redeem him from fuch hard death ! O my lord ! 
 
 Our time is as a guft that rufhes by ; 
 
 But it will dure in England's Chronicle : 
 
 Where other ages — races yet unborn 
 
 Will read of all; — hoot " Shame !" at thefe fad days; — 
 
 Tell how this land was rack'd and forrow-fmitten ! 
 
 Then let it be that, on the woe-dark page, 
 
 Thy good deeds fhine ; — that there, bright gilded,ftand: 
 
 " Gerboud did well in our poor Saxonland !" 
 (©^t« We'll think — I cannot trow that Erc is there, — 
 2FoL I'll take my oath on't, fire ! My head on that ! 
 iHcL Why ftiould / bid fo ? Art not thou my lord ? 
 
 All hopes of him are blighted ! — loft for aye ! 
 
(itffUXit (BvcorDiaoia, 287 
 
 Dead is dear Ercon ! — dead, his dear Melith! 
 'Tis ihy — ihy wife who bids ; — and yet not ; — Nay ! 
 'Tis Heaven's ftill might, that bows the hearts of kings; 
 'Tis meek kind Charity, who fees his wounds ; — 
 A bleffed angel, mourning at our fide,. 
 And whifpering to thy wife this prayer for him ! 
 Shut not the gate upon thefe heavenly ones, 
 ,Left ill betide ! And, Oh ! the heartening thought 
 Of having thus redeem'd a poor loft brother, — 
 What healing cheer in all life's woe 'twill be ! — 
 What gladdening, foul-uplifting thought to thee ! — 
 
 WoI« Let wounds weep blood; but woman's eyes in tears — 
 Thofe watery drops unman me ! — 
 
 (ger* If I fent, — 
 
 But then, — I do not know Disard fo well ; — 
 Jifltl» O nay, my lord! — let not thy good will halt! 
 O fend, but fend! — Behold me at thy feet! — 
 When thy ftrong caftles, — when yon holy church, — 
 When the bright palaces in ruins mould ; 
 When I, and thou, and all around are duft : 
 Oh then, as never-crumbling monument, 
 
(f^ffiiot istfonuioia. 
 
 This good work yet above will bear thy name ; — 
 
 Yet blefled ftand rear'd in the Hall of Heaven !■ — 
 L Nay, Sainte Croix! At this — See her thus weep and 
 kneel ! — 
 
 What cold-cold-hearted man ! 
 (gn% Well, Melith. But— 
 
 iHeL Tet flits my lord? Give not ill Nay. to this! — 
 
 Thou haft three props, — Gold, Kinfmen, and Good 
 Works. (i6) 
 
 But Gold forfakes thee when the death-king nears; 
 
 For, nought more liking, it can give thee nought. 
 
 Friends bear thee to the grave; then turn away. 
 
 And read thy will. But Good Works follow thee! — 
 
 Rife with thee to the blefled Throne of Heaven; 
 
 And, as fair angels, plead for mercy there ! 
 
 O be not hard, then! Do one kind work more; 
 
 For never erring man had fitter time 
 
 To prove his goodnefs ! Let it not go by ; 
 
 For Heaven hath fent it thee, that thou may'ft have 
 
 Such pleader for thy fins ! 
 SF'Ol* Nay ! — Dear foul ! — My eyes — 
 
 But fee him! — like a poft there! 
 
^ttilift (Svconiaoli}, 289 
 
 <Bn\ Well. But, Love, 
 
 I have no might yon : Count Dxsard is lord. 
 
 Befides, I cannot trow that Ercon lives — 
 Woh But I fay, he does ! 
 
 <BZX* Now, be not thou fo angry; — 
 
 W0l« If ever — Nay! — But, fire? Will you let me fend? — 
 iMeL All fails to help !— 
 
 (gf l\ Well. If thou wilt, thou may'fl. 
 
 2FoL Then, rife, my good' lady ! Leave the reft to me. 
 
 I know DiSARD. He'll do what I will, I know; — 
 
 I'm fure, he will. 
 J^^I. Heaven blefs thee, kind Volmar ! 
 
 Woi* I'll hurry, and fend. \_Exit. 
 
 ^tt* The little man is wroth. — 
 
 Weep not, Melith ; for thou may'ft ftill become 
 Dear Ergon's wife : I might be flain fome day. — 
 Come with me to the garden. — Weep not. Love. — 
 Lo, what fair day : it is the funnieft hour. 
 Come. Let us reft there in the bower. — [Exeunt. 
 
OP 
 
 A. J. HOLLINGSWORTH. 
 
 1 . Chaucer's " Man of Lawe " Stanza. 
 
 2. Cato faid, Man mull go out of life as out of an inn. Voltaire, 
 in his old age, fang more merrily : — 
 
 " II faut fortir de la vie ainfi que d'un banquet, 
 Remerciant fon h6te, et faifant fon paquet." 
 
 3. " Men ftriden profvar klingan, och noden vannen." 
 
 Frithiofs Saga. 
 
 4. What gallantry can the ladies expeft from a monk ? I muft 
 apologize to them for this rude old fellow. He had, probably, 
 been reading an old Eddaic Poem which fays : — " Truft not to 
 the ice of one day's freezing ; neither to the ferpent that lies 
 afleep ; * * * * * nor to a field which is newly fown. 
 — Truft not to the words of a girl ; neither to thofe which a 
 woman utters ; for their hearts have been made like the wheel 
 that turns round : levity was put into their bofoms. — Flocks 
 perifti ; relations die ; friends are not immortal ; you will die 
 yourfelf ; but I know one thing alone that is out of the reach of 
 fate : and that is the judgment which is paiTed upon the dead." 
 So fays the Hdva-mdl. Tegner too has borrowed thefe fenti- 
 ments in his verfes beginning : 
 
 " Nattgammal is tro icke, ej vardags fno." 
 
 5. The Elves in this Work are Scandinavian — not Anglo-Saxon. 
 
 6. The Icelandic " Farewell." 
 
 7. " Skon ftod han der fom Balder, och hog fom Afa-Thor." — 
 
 Frithiofs Saga. 
 
 8. " WoUuft ward dem Wurm gegeben, 
 
 Und der Cherub fteht vor Gott." — Schiller. 
 
 9. A fair young German lady taught me a verfe of an old German 
 fong which contained fome of thefe Sentiments. But — Eheu ! 
 Non film qualis eram ! — I have forgotten the fweet words ; and 
 never knew who was their author. 
 
 [O. When Danilh King Valdemar failed in any undertaking, he 
 called out, — " I Morgen er det atter Dag !" meaning that he 
 did not give up, but awaited a more favourable opportunity. 
 He was, hence, called — Valdemar Atterdag : or, as fome will 
 
 u 2 
 
292 ®tl)cr iSotcS. 
 
 have it, — " fordi ved hans ftore Egenikaber, Dagen atter be- 
 gyndte at oprinde paa Danmarks leenge formorkede Himmel." 
 Vide Allens Fadrelands Hiftorie. 
 
 1 1 . This metre and Stanza are, for aught I know, foreigners in our 
 language.. They occur in Frithiofs Saga. The Jiyle too of 
 the laft ftanza but one refembles that of the fourth in Frithiofs 
 Frejlelfe : which begins — 
 
 " See ej pS de ogons himmel," &c. 
 
 12. Though this may appear to be an Epifbde, it is an eflential part 
 of the whole Work. 
 
 13. This monfter, according to the Anglo-Saxons, was the marine 
 reprefentative of his Satanic Majefly. 
 
 14. We learn from Mr. Thomas Wright's Literature and Superfti- 
 tions of England in the Middle Ages, that Letiche was a white 
 harmlefs animal, which appeared at night ; and was fuppoled to 
 be the Ipirit of an infant that had died before baptifm. Mr. Vat- 
 mar's Letiche is a very different perfonage. It would have been 
 an invaluable little animal in our mefmerizing, fpiritualizing age. 
 Say no more of the fiiperftitions of the dark ages ! What are we 
 coming to now? Where our old bards brought witches into 
 their Works, let our modern harpers give us Mefinerizers and 
 Spiritualifts — fuch worthies as Kormak. Thefe gentlemen will 
 be the falvation of Poetry. 
 
 15. In an Anglo-Saxon Dialogue between Saturn and Solomon, is : — 
 " Saga me hwaer gasS k6 funne on sfen t6 fzetle ? — Ic p^ 
 lecge, Garita hatte fe6 burh." A modern prieft would have 
 faid,— " The Chinefe Wall." 
 
 16. " Drei Freunde hat der Menfch, fagen die Rabbiner, in diefer 
 Welt; aber wie betragen fie fich, wenn der Engel des Todds 
 naht ? Das Geld, noch der befte Freund in unferer Zeit, ver- 
 lasft ihn zuerft ; Verwandte und Freunde begleiten ihn allenfalls 
 noch bis zur Pforte des Todes, dann kehren diefe in ihre Haufcr, 
 und jene fallen iiber den Schatz her, wenn einer da ift ; der dritte 
 Freund ift es allein, der ihn zum Throne des Richters begleitet 
 — feine Werke." — Demokritos, vol. ii. 
 
 17. " The fame breeze in which the banners of the victorious Saxons 
 waved, alfo fwelled the Norman fails, and urged them on towards 
 the coaft of SufTex." — Thierry. Norman Conqueft. 
 
 END OF VOLUME I. 
 
Cornell University Library 
 PR 4794.H28 1858 
 
 Poetical works; with memoirs of the autho 
 
 3 1924 013 483 460