J?VV '.^ > 4^ « ^'.'O^ o ♦ g'"' *^ ^ ■^-o/ :-:^^-. Vo^^° .-•^^•. -^^ •• \,** / ♦ ^( • ^ ,9^ ♦AN ^ .N^ <* .. "^ •" »° ^ *" v'?' / /• % %^< *y. o _ ^ ^T' .-*? .: I.****. ^^ ^v ...^ -- '^r ."'■X'-^J j>'\ \^.- /x 0^ -0 *^ **#ln*' A PERCY'S MASQUE a ©rama, IN FIVE ACTS FROM THE LONDON EDITION, WITH ALTERATIONS. JVEW-YORK: PRINTED BY C. S. VAN WINKLE, ^0. 101 Greenwich-street. 1820. Southern District of ISeiv- YorT(, ss r BE IT REMEMBERED, that on the seventh day of June, in the forty-fourth year of the Independence of the United States of Americ^ C S Van Winkle, of the said district, hath deposited in this office the title of a book, the right whereof he claims, as proprietor, in the words following, to wit : '' Percy's masque, a drama, in five acts. From the London edition, with dterations:' In conformity to the act of Congress of the United States, entitled, u An act for the encouragement of learning, by securing the copies of ** maps, charts, and books, to the authors and proprietors of such copies, " during the times therein mentioned ;'' and also, to an act, entitled, ** An act supplementary to an act entitled, an act tor the encourage- *^ ment of learning, by securing the copies of maps, charts and oooks, u to the authors and proprietors of such copies during the times there- - a mentioned, and extending the benefits thereof to t^e arts of de- - signing, engraving, and etching historical and other prints, signing, s GILBERT L. THOMPSON, Clerk of the Southern District of New-York, Henry Percy, the son of Hotspur, found himself, when he emerged from childhood, bereft of friends, stripped of the possessions of his ancestors, and subsistin"^, in exile, upon the bounty of strangers. On the rupture of his family with Henry IV. whom they had been instrumental in elevating to the throne, leaguing with Glendour and the Earl of Douglas, they published it as their intention to transfer the crown to Edmund Mortimer, Earl of March, This nobleman was the great-grandson of Lionel, Duke of Clarence, the third son of Edward III. ; and, besides representing an elder branch of the family than that from which Henry sprung, had been acknowledg- ed by Richard H. as his successor. The issue of their en- terprise was the well-know n battle of Shrewsbury. The IV Earl of Northumberland, whom accident had detained from the eng^agement, and whose power was still formidable, re- ceived pardon. Stung, however, by the loss of his son and brother, he, in company with Richard Scrope, Archbishop of¥Qrk, and Thomas Mowbray, Earl Marshal, appeared, two years afterwards, again in arms. Ralph Neville, Earl of Westmorelaiid, who was allied, by marriage, to Henry, and was devoted to his cause, broke this combination by stratagem ; took "S ork and Mowbray prisoners on Shipton- moor, and delivered them into his master's hands, at the cas- tle of Pontefract, where, after a summary trial, they suffered ^eath. Northumberland, accompamea by nis lanniui iric;uu^ Lord Bardolph, and bearing with him his young grandson, retired into Scotland. His estates were confiscated, and bestowed on different adherents of the King. Failing ia an application for aid to the Scottish Court, and in their attempts to purchase it in Wales, France, and Flanders, through which they wandered together, these Noblemen came to the resolution of making a third effort to dethrone Bolingbroke, with no other means than those assured by their great pergonal influence and popularity in the north of England. Thither they accordingly returned, and were, soon after, both slain in the battle of Bramham-moor. '* So that now," says Flolinshed, " the prophesie was fulfil- led which gaue an inkling of this heauie hap long before ;" " For this Earle was the stocke, and maine root of all *' that were left aliue called by the name of Persie, and of ** manie more by diuers slaughters despatched. For whose ** misfortune the People were not a little sorrie, making re- '* port of the gentleman's valiantnesse, renowne, and ho- " nour, and applieng unto him certeine lamentable verses ** out of Lucane," 4*0. Respecting his grandson, the same author remarks : " Henrie Persie, then but a child, sonne to the Lord Henrie '* Persie surnamed Hotspur, after his father's deceasse, that *' was slaine at Shrewesburie field, was conuied into Scot- ** land, and there left by his Grandfather." He was educa- ted at the court of the Regent, Robert Stuart, Duke of Albany; where he remained till about the date of the following scenes. DRAMATIS PERSON-a:. Neville, Earl of Westmoreland and JVorthumberland. Arthur, his Huntsman. Douglas, Heir of the House of Douglas. Bertram, \ MOUNTFORT, f ^ ., ^ ,• , , , _ > Gentlemen of JVorthumberland. Bardolph, i -' FiTZHUGH, J King Henry V. and Kohles of his Retinue, Roof, a Groom of Westmoreland's. Lady Westmoreland. Elinor, their Daughter. Florence, Cousin of Elinor, arid Guest at Warkworth. Knights, Vassals, ^c. Scene, Warkworth Castle in Northumberland. PERCY'S MASQUE. ACT I— SCENE I. A terrace of the castle, overlooking a lawn and liiidodss Elinor alone. Enter Florence. Flor. She stood, majestic, mid her waving woods, Like Dian musing on her hill of cedars, Or that famed princess whom the grey-eyed dawn Found lingering on the beach beneath proud Carthage, Pensive and pale, her sandals wet with sea-foam, And her dark tresses with the tears of night, Accusing heaven, and looking lorn as thou dost! EL Good morrow, cousin. Flor, Prithee, pretty maid, Why creep'st thou slyly from my side, at dawn, Day after day, up to this lonely platform ? 10 Percy's MASQ.UE. Act L EL Look forth : let universal nature speak. See yonder, how the Cheviot summits glow ; What fiery colours deck the glistening wood ; How volumed, dense, and white, the river mist Winds down the gleaming vale ! Flor, Solve me, sweet coz, — What stirs thy pensive breast to deeper musing Than all -the hues and melodies of nature ? Than moonlight walks on wild Northumbrian hills, Than hoarse waves booming to the ocean shore, Autumn's sear leaves, sad fields, and farewell song, Or midrxight converse wiili ilie starry ipueres ? EL Pish ! leave such senseless rhapsody. Flor. A horn ! A simple, merry, huntsman's horn ! — How sweet, From this high terrace too'erlook the courts, When, mustering there, the leaders of the chase Marshal their bands, caparison their steeds, Vault to their seats, halloo, and dashing out, Make hil! and greenwood, high and low, Shrill to the merry bugle ! EL What mean'st thou, Florence ? Scene L Percy's masque. 11 Flor. His vest was green, His feather blue, His glance was keen, His arrow true — And hill and greenwood, high and low. Shrilled to his merry bugle O ! EL In simpler words — the friend who knows me best^ To whom my thoughts, even from our childish years. Have been transparent as the crystal waters, Believes me, (else, why urge this tedious^ jest ?) Enamoured of a hind, my father's vassal ! Flor, O, spare me ! frown not on my harmless muse. I did but sport : forgive me, Elinor. Yet, would I knew what preys upon your cheek, Shrouds you in gloom, and locks me from your bosom* When Raby's towers from morn till midnight rang With dance, masque, pageant, minstrelsy, and song, Our lives seem'd sweetest pastime. Not a lark Rose from her nest more gayly to the skies Than we from slumber : joy was all our theme. Silence and melancholy now usurp — EL What need to search my heart ? Thou know'st it thine. 12 Percy's masque. Act L Flor, Does Elinor unkindly cast me out From sympathy in sorrow, like a stranger ? EL Cease, Florence, cease : I have not yet com- plained ; Nor ever will, while bounteous heaven showers down Blessings unnumbered on my worthless head. For shame ! By what prerogative am I The darling offspring of a noble house ? Born in this land of heroes ? Rich in all things ? Who gave those tender parents, and preserves ? Who stretched a canopy above my bed. And steeped my eyelids in the dew of slumber, While many wretch no worse than I No, no, If, spite of me, my thankless heart repine Because some fancfed good swells not the store, Ne'er will I utter such rebellious murmurs. Flor, Seems it rebellion to thee, Elinor, To bathe the wounds which Providence inflicts In friendship's tears ? EL As for that youth — few words Will sum his story. Three months since, surprised By a wild night while journeying near these walls. He begged a shelter. Voice, or face, or mien — Fate willed it — touched my sire, who questioned him. Scene I. Percy's masque. 13 .Fortune, he said, smiled fairlj at his birth ; But fatal feuds, mischances long to tell, Robb'd him of friends and substance while a child, And, ever since, his adverse fate had frowned. Cheered bj kind looks and courtesy, he asked Among the hunting-train some humble post. Rare talents in the art so cherished here Had won him rank and favour, ere his arm, Blessed be Heaven, preserved my life and honour. Flor. Thy life EL Have I not told thee ? Strange neglect ! — O, Florence, hear. — A balmy eventide Allured me, with a damsel, down the vale. Beguiled with talk, and roving heedless, night O'ertook us. Hurrying thro' the wood, just where That ancient ash o'erspreads the way, a band Of prowling Scots, moss-troopers from the wild, Rushed from a covert, captive seized us — Flor, Jesu ! EL Bound us upon their horses, and amain Spurred for the Border. Long our dangerous course O'er hills and moors, by lonely robber paths, We held in darkness, guided by the stars And pallid lustre of the northern light. 2 14 Percy's MASQUE. ^^c^ /. At last, (the moon now broad above the fells,) Crossing a glen, they halted in a brook, Full in the beam, to counsel, and to breathe Their o'erspent steeds. Four huntsmen, midst the parle, Reined up beside us. Judge what trembling seized me, When on their coats my father's crest I saw ! Think — in that wild untrodden solitude To find brave Arthur by my side ! Speech, breath Forsook me. Agnes shrieked. Then, Florence, then — But my brain reeled ; his desperate charge I saw not-. I found myself upon the moonlight bank Sustained by Agnes ; felt upon my cheek The night-breeze freshened by the gushing rill Which Arthur from his basnet sprinkled o'er me. No hostile sound disturbed us ; tranquil, pale, And sweet all seemed, till on the runnel's brink^ Close at my feet, I spied two grim marauders Mixing their life blood with the bubbling stream. That night he gave me to my mother's arms ; And such a night ! — such agonies of joy I hope no more to see. — To this poor youth, Whose blood redeemed me, ingrate shall I prove ? Flor. Forbid it gratitude.— Unheard of rescue 1 Scene IL Percy's masque. 15 EL But if a lighter thought — remember, Florence, Mine is the stock of Lancaster, the blood Whose pure proud current feeds the hearts of Princes. \ExiU Flor, Four days ! — and not a whisper of this tale — That should have flown to meet me on the way, Leaped from her eyes, mixed with the welcome-kiss, And dwelt the favoured theme upon her tongue 1 Her mother's silence too 1 — ay, that ; — But why — What doth he here ? haunting about her steps, And practising upon her noble nature ? — Alas ! if Elinor This claims a thought. — [Exit. SCENE IL Jl court of the Castle — Enter Westmoreland, ineeiwg Arthur, with a falcon. West, How flies she, Arthur ? At, Faithful to the lure, My lord, and bold upon the wing as eagles. West^ Thank my lord Marshal with the Tangier barb. 16 h^ercy's masque. Act L See him caparisoned, and led by Hubert. What tidings from the north ? Ar, Berwick is free. The Borderers stole away on Michael's eve. West, A raid of Murray's : so I wrote the King-. Who brought the news ? ♦4r. The Regent's courier passed, at dawn. For London. West, Spoke you with him ? Ar. Yes, my lord. West, What brings he else ? Ar, Nothing of any moment. Rothsay is dead, and Percy fled from court. }Vest, Percy ! Ar, The Hotspur's son. West. Fled !— Whither ? Ar, Westward, Some say, with young lord Douglas to the Isles ; Tho' others think to France. West, Degenerate stripling 1 — Fled ! — How long ago? Ar, Two months, my lord, he doth report, and more. West, If but a spark — '■(^pausi?ig] — No fear — one night on straw Scene IL Percy's masc^ue. 17 Would send him with a quartan home to nurse. But this curled minion's father, gods 1 ere this, Had shook my gates with Scotland at his back ; Or, baffled there, like some grey Palmer knocked. With scrip, and scallop, craving charity. Harper, or Beadsman, muttering for the damned. And drenched our hospitable hearths with blood. Rough Hotspur, sooner than in exile languish, Ay, rather, if the spleen of fight were on, Unarmed would mount, and, with a frail ash spear, Tilt with the Fiend, than speak in courtesy. Ar. What thinks my lord ? Were this fierce chief alive, Or any valiant scion of his stock, Would Henry, on submission at his throne, Restore their honours ? West, Restore 1 — Northumberland is mine : who takes Must win it. Percy lorded o'er the North Too proudly, and is sunk to rise no more. The Sire and the Son set Bolingbroke aloft, Meaning to rule the King they made ; but soon Finding a check on their omnipotence, Tieir vengeful arms they turned ; denounced bis liiin; 18 Percy's masqu^:. Act L Drew half the kingdom to revolt, and clave, Almost, the diadem. Ar, Audacious traitors ! West, Their fortune hit the planetary hour They, erring, thought, and sun and moon must boW, With humble adoration, to the Star Of their nativity. And, had not I Outwitted York, dispersed his power, and seized Mowbray and him, we now had drudged for bread, Cursing the pittance doled by Mortimer ; While grey-beard Percy gored us with his rule, Counting each drop expiatory blood For Hotspur's death. Ar. And does my lord fear ought from Hotspur's son ? West. The Piper ? Lady Regent's toilet-man ? Whose soul, in travail of a sonnet, faints. Seven times a day, entranced upon a lute ? Alack ! down-beds, perfumes, carpets, and ladies, He covets more than cold night watches, sheathed In arms, steel pillows, and the smell of war. Ar, Strange tales of him the crones and Gypsies tell. Some say the noble babe was stolen by Fairies, Who left a changeling imp : som:e, that Night-hags Scene IL Percy's MAS^uii. 19 Blasted the cradle — West, Would the name were blasted, Rased and forgot ! Rebellion's in their ashes, And taints the air that blows upon my vassals. Fools cry, a miracle, when nature sports. 'Twas thus when Edward's lion-mettled stock To Richard shrunk. The Scottish Regent strove To rear him up a scourge and thorn to me ; Schooled him in every noble exercise, And sought the promise of his youth to prove, For, in his boyhood, sparks like Percy shone ; But 'twas a bootless toil. — Look to the steed. [Exit. Ar. Buried in the dear ashes thoii dishonourest, That spark, proud Westmoreland, thou'lt find Alive for fatal mischief. Blest delusion I For once, thank heaven, my better star prevails. [Exitr so PERCy*S MASQUE. Jlct it ACT II— SCENE 1. A high-wood walk in a park. The towers of the castle seen over the trees* 9 Enter Arthur. Ar. Here let me pause, and breathe awhile, and wipe These servile drops from off my burning brow. Amidst these venerable trees, the air Seems hallowed by the breath of other times. — • Companions of mj Fathers ! ye have marked Their generations pass. Your giant arms Shadowed their youth, and proudly canopied Their silver hairs, when, ripe in years and glory. These walks they trod to meditate on Heaven. What warlike pageants have ye seen ! what trains Of captives, and what heaps of spoil ! what pomp. When the victorious Chief, war's tempest o'er. Scene L Percy's masque. 21 In Warkworth's bowers unbound his panoply ! What floods of splendour, bursts of jocund din, Startled the slumbering tenants of these shades^ When night awoke the tumult of the feast, The song of damsels, and the sweet-toned lyre ! Then, princely Percy reigned amidst his halls, Champion, and Judge, and Father of the North. O, days of ancient grandeur ! are ye gone ? For ever gone ? Do these same scenes behold His offspring here the hireling of a foe ! O, that I knew my fate ! that I could read The destiny which Heaven has marked for me ! Enter a Forester. For, A benison upon thee, gentle huntsman! Whose towers are these that overlook the wood ? Ar, Earl Westmoreland's. For. The Neville's towers I seek. By dreams I learn, and prophecies most strange,, A noble youth lurks here, whose horoscope Declares him fated to amazing deeds. Ar. (starting back.) Douglas ! — Doug. Now do I clasp thee, Percy ; and I swear S2 Percy's masque. Act 11, By my dear soul, and by the blood of Douglas, Link'd to thy side thro' every chiince, I go. Till here thou rulest, or death and night end all. Per. Amazement ! Whence ? — or how ? " Doug, And didst thou think Thus to elude me ? Per. Answer how thou found'^t me. What miracle directed here thy steps ? Dong. Where should I look for thee but in the post Where birth, fame, fortune, wrongs, and honour caH thee? Returning from the Isles, I found thee gone. Awhile in doubt, each circumstance I weighed : Thy difficulties, wrongs, and daring spirit ; The gay delusive show so long maintained To lull observers ; then set forth, resolved Never to enter more my native towers Till 1 had found, and searched thee to the soul. Per. Still must I wonder ; for so dark a cloud — Doug. O, deeper than thou think'st I've read thy heart. A gilded insect to the world you seemed ; The fashion's idol ; person, pen, and lyre, The soft devoted darjing of the Fair, Scene L Percy's masque. 23^ By slow degrees I found Herculean nerve Hid in thy tuneful arm ; that hunger, thirst, The sultry chase, the bleakest mountain bed, The dark rough winter torrent, were to thee But pastime ; more were courted than repose. To others, your discourse still wild and vain, To me, when none else heard thee, seemed the voice Of heavenly oracles. Per, O, partial friendship. Doug. Yet had I never guessed your brooded pur- pose. Rememberest thou the Regent's Masque ? the birth night ? Per, Well. Doug, That night you glittered through the crowded halls. Gay, and capricious as a sprite of air. Apollo rapt us w^hen you touched the lyre ; Cupid fanned odours from your purple wings ; Or Mercury amused with magic wand, Mocking our senses with your feathered heel. In every fancy, shape, and hue you moved, The admiration, pity, theme of all. One bed received us. Soon, your moaning voice. 24 Percy's mas^we. Act 11. Disturbed me. Dreaming heavily, you groaned, O, Percy ! Percy ! Hotspur ! O, my father ! Upbraid me not ! hide, hide those ghastly wounds ! Usurper ! Traitor ! thou shalt feel me 1 Per. Heavens ! Doug. 'Tis true : — and more than I can now re- member. Per. And never speak of it ? Doug. Inly I burned ; But honour, pride forbade. Pilfer from dreams 1 Thou knew'st the ear, arm, life of Douglas, thine — Per, And long ago I had disclosed to thee My troubled bosom, but my enterprise So rife with peril seemed — to hearts less touched, So hopeless ! Knowing thy impetuous soul, How could I justify the deed to Heaven, How to thine aged sire ? Armed proof I stand, To fate : come what will come, the wide earth bears No heart of kindred blood to mourn my fall. Doug, The heart of Douglas beats not with thy blood, But never will I trust in mercy more, In justice, truth, or heaven, if it forsake thee. Per. Douglas, thy friendship is my choicest treasure. Scene k bercy's MAS€tyE. 26 Has been a radiant star on my dark way ; And never did I doubt thy zeal t© serve me. Lend, now, a patient ear. — While with my doom, Alone, I strive, iw dread or doubt distracts me. No precious fate with mine involved, my heart Is fearless, firm my step. Exposing thee, The adamantine buckler falls, and leaves me, Naked and trembling, to a double death, Dong, Thou lovest me not. Per. Let Heaven be witness there 1 — The thought of bringing down thy father's hairs With sorrow to the grave, would weigh like guilt, Palsy my soul, and cripple all my powers. Doug, So ! — have I wandered o'er the hills for this ? Per. I would not wound thee, Douglas, well tho,u know'st 4 But thus to hazard on a desperate cast Thy golden fortunes Doug. Curs'd be the blood within me, Plagues, and the grave o'ertake me, if I leave thee I Tho' gulfs yawned under thee, and roaring seas Threatened to whelm thee ! Per. For iky father's sake— ~ 3 26 Percy's masque. Act II, Dong. Peace ! Pd not go if staying here would strew His hoar hairs in the tomb — not stir, by heaven I Must I toss counters ? sum the odds of life, When Honour points the way ? When was the blood Of Douglas precious in a noble cause ? Per, Nay, hear me, hear me, Douglas Doug, Talk to me Of dangers ? Death and shame ! Is not my race As high, as ancient, and as proud as thine ? Per, I've done. Doug, By heaven, it grieves me, Harry Percy, Preaching such craven arguments to me. Now tell me how thou standst ; thy cause how pros- pered. What has been done ? What projects are afoot ? Possess me quickly. Per. Gently ; lest some Imsy ear Be near us. Lii:tle have I yet to tell thee. Thinking my rival's coat would best conceal me, I won his favour by a tale scarce feigned. Doug, A Keeper of his chase thy garb bespeaks. Per. Chief Huntsman, Thus disguised^ I day by day Scene L Percy's masque. 27 Traverse my native hills, viewing the strength And features of the land ; its holds of safety ; And searching patriot spirits out. For, still, Tho' kings and gaudy courts remember not, Still, in the cottage, and the peasant's heart, The memory, of my fathers lives. When there, The old, the good old day is cited, tears Roll down their reverend beards, and genuine love Glows in their praises of my sires. Doug, I long To press the sons, and tell them what a lord Lives vet to rule them, Fer, When first I mixed among them, oft I struck. Unwittingly, a spark of this same fire. Encouraged thus, I sought its latent seeds ; Seized opportunities to draw the chase Into the bosom of the hills, and spent Nights in their hospitable, happy cots. There, to high strains, the minstrel harp I tuned, Chaunting the glories of the ancient day, When their brave fathers, scorning to be slaves, Rushed with their Chieftain to the battle lield. Trod his bold footsteps in the ranks of death. And sfcared his triumphs in the festal hall. 28 Percy's masquh. Jlci IL Boug. That lulled them, as the north wind does the sea. Per. From man to man, and house to house, like fire, The kindling impulse flew ; till every hind, Scarce conscious why, handles his targe and bow ; Still talks of change ; starts, if the banish'd name By chance he hears ; and supplicates his saint The true-born offspring may his banner rear,^ With speed, upon the hills. Doug. What lack we ? Spread The warlike ensign. On the Border side Two hundred veteran spears await your summons. Per, What say'st thou 1 Dou^, Sinewsof the house : Ready to tread in every track of Douglas. By stealth I drew them in from distant points^ And hid amidst a wood in Chevy-Chase. Per. O, Douglas ! Douglas ! even such a friend, For death or life, was thy great sire to mine I Doug. Straight, let us turn our trumpets to the hills ; Declare aloud thy name, and wrongs ; in swarms Call down the warlike tenantry, and teach Aspiring Neville fatal is the day Sketie L Percy's MASQU&r 29 The Percy and the Douglas league in arms. Per, If he were all — Remember haughty Henry, The nephew of his wife,^ whose word could speed A veteran army to his kinsman's aid. Doug, Come one, come all ; leave us to Welcome them. Per, There lives a sad remembrancer for us. — Think of our fathers ! Think of Shrewsbury ! Doug, Hum ! Per, Their cause was upright ; all that hearts of flesh, And falchions tempered in an earthl^^^ wave, Could do, their valour wrought ; yet Percy fell^ And Douglas was a captive. Doug, Well ; what then ? Because fate baffled them, must we despair ? Per, Ha I yonder's Elinor — Westmoreland's daugh- ter — • This lucky chance I wished. — Douglas, away.- — ■ Seek, by the river side, a Hermitage Carved in the rock. That half worn path will guide thee. * Joan, Countess of Westmoreland, was half-sister to Heiiiy IV« 3* so Percy's masq,ue. Act 11. Dong. This way ? Per. The left hand path. I'll come to thee anon. Donald shall be thy name. Mark — mine is x\rthur. [Exeunt. SCENE II. A tarcn before the gate. Enter Eukor, attended by a damsel. EL As o'er the hills we flew, the very heavens Frowned wild and ominous ; but when I woke, So melancholy sweet the moon looked on me, Murmurs so soothing stole upon mine ear, Awhile, I thought myself in some new being. Dams. Fairies keep revel on such nights, and oft About the traveller make woods and glades Seem full of voices, airs, and shrill sweet pipings — El. But spake he, Agnes — as thou saidst ? — Dams. More like a lord, than a poor vassal, lady ; Chtsped you against his breast, and wept, and swore Scene IL Percy's mas^i^'e. 31 As he were frantic ; nay, we thought you dead ; Killed in the shock that slew the ruffian. Enter Percy. El. Ha ! Agnes — Per, Lady, a moment hear my suit. EL Your suit !— What suit ? Per. A youth who loves, and in his prosperous days, Favoured me, w^andering in a w^oodman's weeds, From home and kindred parted, craves a place, (Hearing my fortune in your father's service,) An humble place among the train I lead. El. Receive him like a brother, Arthur ; Welcome the wanderer to my father's house. But say — what tidings from the Regent pass ? I saw you from my tower, at peep of dawn, In parley with a Scottish courier. Per. No news. El. How fares my lady Albany ? Per. Soft, benedicite ! a tale there was. The Northern Muses weep, and wreath their harps With mournful willows ; Lady Regent pine,*?,. 32 Percy's masque. Act III Wan as a shade ; court ladies droop, and sigh, Forsake their lutes, and talk of nunneries : Mirth, music, merry-making, melodj, Speed the light hours no more at Holyrood : — The King of Glee, the gamesome Percy's fled, EL Has Percy fled ? Per, So says the courier ; none Knows whither. EL Gracious Heaven, protect his steps 1 Per, Hal You speak with fervour, lady. EL While I rove These woods and walks, and wander thro' those halls Of lonely grandeur, every object wakes Some sad remembrance of the noble outcast. I entered, late, a long-neglected tower. Where, gray with cobwebs, torn, and soiled with dust,- The ancient pictures of the race decay. There, dark-browed Hotspur, stooping to the charge, With many a famed majestic Percy, moulders. A thrill of terror rooted me ; they seemed to frown, And menace me with hostile eyes ; Question my right in their domain ; and ask, With looks of accusation, for their son. Scene If. :percy's masqus:. 33 Per. How would their warlike fronts indignant burn. Could they behold the losel whom thou pitiest ! EL Who knows, alas, but we have made him such ? Have we not driven him from his native seats Out to the pitiless world, deprived of all That makes life dear ? Who knows but he has rushed To pleasure's bowers for shelter from despair ? — Ill-fated youth ! the passions that have scathed, Had, haply, fired thee to immortal deeds, Shed lustre o'er thy country, decked thy brows With wreaths unfading 3^ the amaranth. Per. Sure thou hast trod the gardens where it blooms, And learned compassion at the lips of Angels. EL I would not purchase greatness at this price, Would welcome, rather, some obscure retreat ; Nor dream of splendour, save when Fancy spread Pavilions in the clouds, or tracked the moon. Or visited those mystic orbs of fire Spangling heaven's curtains, and beyond them heard The entrancing viols and unearthly voices, Sometimes to Saints made audible below, — Than reign the Queen of an adoring world. If I must do it in another's rio;ht. 34 Percy's masque. Act IL Per, Ah ! would to heaven such justice swayed all hearts. EL With but my sire's consent^ how pleased would I These sumptuous halls to their just lord resign ; Seek Raby's bowers ; and never, never more. Forsake the shades where, like a vision, flew My happy youth I the scenes of innocence, Of peace, and sunshine, where my joyous heart Chimed with the blithest m.usick of the woodlands. No sorrow there, no secret ^^Stops abruptly ») Per. Sorrow ! Dares she intrude into a Seraph' s breast ? Alas ! art thou exposed — EL Am I ! Look up^. Presumptuous youth, and, if thou canst, regard' The dazzling sum^mit where the Neville shines. Do clouds of sorrow roll so high ? — Agnes ! [Exit. Per. Vanished again I — What means this changeful mood ? It grows upon her. Even when she seems Gentlest, and sweetest, breathing from her lips — Perpetual troubler of my thoughts ! by heaven, This fellow do^s me — Well, how now ? Scene IL fERcy's masque. 3h Enter Rook, as talking to himself. Rook. When Cats, and fawning ^longrels be Exalted into Men's degree Captain ! Per. How now, I say ? Rook Good morrow, noble captain ! (jpasses) Then, Wit and Reason must be grown Just fit to mouse, and gnaw a bone. [Exit. Per. An oracle — I must beware this knave. He peers about me with a lynx's eye : Thrice has surprised me at unguarded moments. He turns — I'll cross the brake and hie to Douglas, [Exit 36 mercy's masque. Aci III. ACT III— SCENE L A deep shady solitude before the Hermitage of Warkworth, Percy and Douglas sitting on a stone bench by the door of the cell. Per. Caution must rein our ardour : see the land Drained for these wars ; the King and Westmoreland O'er seas, with all the turbulent bold spirits. Busy in France : — then, stir for Mortimer, Make common cause with him, and we may thrive. Doug. With Mortimer ? Per. My cousin Edmund's son, the lineal heir Of Clarence, lives : our rightful Sovereign. ^ Doug. Where ? Per. In London ; whence I hourly look for tiding?. But, if nought sinister by waves or war Scene I. Percy's masque, §7 Befal the King, an absent pilot leaves His galley reeling. Men begin to murmur. This prodigal, say they, for selfish ends, Drags to unknown, inhospitable graves, Our sons ; barters their bones for barren fame ; Leaves us to starve, v^^hile he, on foreign shores. Plucks blood-stained laurels. Doug. Talk they thus ? Per, Douglas, If Mortimer inherits but a soul, And once Northumberland will lift her voice, Oft, thro' the realm, in dark and troubled times^ ' i The watch-word of the mighty, hope survives For down-trod justice. Number but the host* Of discontented spirits late fallen off: More, groaning yet beneath his father's stripes : And more that, from the first, pitying wronged RiQh*^ ard, Hated this proud usurping race, and fought In Percy's battles for the rightful heir : All, waiting but the call. Doug, If this be so^ What fear ? Per. And that were glory ! grasp at once 4 38 Percy's masque. Act IIL My own lost heritage, and throne my King I Sometimes the vision dances in my eyes, But ah! I fear, a glittering empty bubble. Monmouth is wise, dauntless as Mars, and proved In all the issues of the field ; he knows The talisman that rules a soldier's heart ; Success has shed a blaze about his head Dazzling to vulgar gazers : I, the while. Am but a stripling, yet unknown ; save thine, My cause unsanctioned by a name of power. Doug, But thou hast justice on thy side. Per. Alas! And had not Hotspur, too, when he lay stiflf'ning ? Douglas, I've looked thro' men, and marked the ways Inscrutable, and dark, of Providence. Too oft, the righteous is the luckless cause. Nay, have not holy men, in every age Doug. Sweet lad, trouble not me with saintly lore. One thing I know, and, spite of flesh, will cleave to :— - The justice of our cause can never hurt it. Per. Ha ! 'tis himself. Enter Bertram, attired like a Ilerinit* Bert, Heaven speed ye kindly, sons ! ^ceneL Percy's masque. 39 Per. (embracing him,) Nay, Bertram thou behold'st a second self. This is that youthful Douglas, whose renown Has reached thine ears. Bert, Why then I see my brother of adoption, A true-born son of never daunted Douglas. Doug, Approve him as you find him. Per, Long, and dark, And tragic, is the page of Bertram's story. Its emblems carved within this rock shall speak. Suffice it, Douglas, cruel fate, w^ith wounds Incurable, had pierced his noble heart. Here, in this cell, I found him, where, in tears, Sackcloth, and bitter penance, Bothal's lord Had twenty winters mourned. My sires he loved, For whom his fathers and himself had fought ; For Bertram, once, stood foremost of the brave. His faith, and wisdom proved, my birth I told, Demanding counsel. Roused by Percy's name, The sorrowing Hermit w^oke, forsook his cell, Cast off the cherished burthen of his griefs, Serves me, and loves me with a zeal like thine. Doug, Thy hand. Brave Baron, I have heard tliy fame. 40 Percy's MASQ.UE- .id UI. But thought thee mingled with the dead. Bert. The pangs Of many deaths has Bertram suffered. Per. Hark ! (Hor7is heard in the forest.) What horns are those ? — And horsemen ? Doug. Lo ! again. Per. Strike thro' the wood and see : lest I B-e sought.^ — — [Exit Dou(f. Well, Bertram, speak. W^hat speed ? Bert. Alas, my lord^ no hopes. Per. Ha, why ? Bert. A high-born spirit so ignoble, *% grov'ling, wedded to base things, lives not. Per. O Fate ! Bert, He scarce is known at court : he soils His nobleness by fellowship with cullions : Spurns lore and chivalry, to waste his days In vulgar revels with the city scum. Per. O, Mortimer ! — But didst thou probe him, Bertram ? Search to his heart ? Show the foul wrong he suffers ? Bert. I courted him ; oft drew him into talk : Spoke of his father, grandsire, all his house Downward from Lionel ; wept their fallen fortunes : Scene L Percy's masque. 41 Touched on his claim ; the people's discontent ; In my discourse, still, as by chance, let fall Words that had pierced, like scorpion stings, a breast Not seared to honour ; but, a bond-slave, dolt, Or idiot, had been moved to nobler fire. Per, O, Nature ! thou conspirest, too, With my cursed stars. Bert. He ne'er can serve our purpose. We need a young prince rarely versed ; who knows Men, and the times ; apt, shrewd, and valiant ; skilled To catch and fix the wavering multitude. But Mortimer, in nought Per. A curse upon him 1 I would not stain the venerable chair Where Alfred shone, and godlike Edward sat Midst captive Kings ; so oft by heroes filled, Whose wisdom, toil, and valour, through the world Have spread our glory, made our narrow Isle Q,ueen of the Sea, and Arbitress of Nations — No — not for empire would I stain that throne With such a hilding. Henry's faults are princely, Such as in noble natures aptest grow, And ne'er will soil the robe not rightly hig. 4^ 42 Percy's masque. Act IIL Re-enter Douglas, hastily. Bert, What now ? Doug, The King is coming. Per. Hal Doug, True, as the faith. Per. The King ? Doug, The English King. Bert, Thou'rt raving. Doug, On my life, To Warkworth. Per, When? Doug, This very night, And with a slender train. Per, Immortal heaven ! Doug. Infernal hell 1 if ever he depart Till Harry Percy hold his own. Per, To-night! We cannot ! — Bertram ! — Douglas 1 — God of heaven 4 Had but a day Doug. Hear, Percy ! list I He hunts To-morrow ; couches here to-morrow night ; Next morning, goes ; — if we, like coistrils, slaves, Base stirrup-lackeys, cap in hand, cry, Speed ! Stene L Percy's masq,ue. 43 Per. {smiting his breast.) 'Tis come ! the fated hour ! Bert, Beware ! refrain ! — Were yonder horsemen couriers of the King ? Doug. My lord, they were, and thus report. The King, Riding a course to Berwick, with a train Of twenty Nobles and an hundred Knights, Will reach this castle by the hour of curfew ; To-morrow rouse a stag ; and northward wend With next day's earliest sun. Per. That sun shall see Above yon towers my father's banner fly, Or light my spirit to the gates eternal ! Doug, Triumph ! Per. A path — a glorious path I spy — The King, my lords — But tarry not to parley ; The hour is big, the moments numbered. Fly ! {To Doug. Lead up those spearmen. Mount a fleet steed, Ber- tram This ring {producing a ring from his bosom) — was once my grandsire's signet •, drawn From his dead hand on Bramham-moor. For life, Hurry away to Mountfort. Him thou 'It find |4 Percy's MASi^tTE* Act III* Clad like a minstrel, in an humble cot Fast by the towers of Fitzhugh. Say, the man Whose crest is on that ring has need of him. He will commune with Fitzhugh, and direct Your steps to Bardolph. Join me all — fail not— Conjure them so— by twilight, in the cavern. Bert, Speaks Mountfort to his name ? Per. For Harold ask, The harper — Children know the ancient minstrel. Or, shouldst thou spy a giant-boned old man. Stooping his bulk upon a charging-stafF, His locks and beard like hoar-frost, yet his brows Shaggy and black, 'tis Mountfort. Now, to horse. Doug. Come on. Per. Would thou couldst meet these friends, to-night. Doug. That will I, by the ghost of Merlin I choose A clean-limb'd steed, and lend me spurs. I need But strike the march ; my kinsman Malcolm's trusty. Per, Bertram, lead Douglas to the forest-gate : I'll follow with the coursers. [Exeunt, Sc€7ie II. fekcy's masque. 45 SCENE IL .1 court before the stables. Rook, alone* Rook, Some Juggler's brat, I'll swear, by Gypsies kidnapped, Knavish by nature, and in lies instructed, Left in a barn asleep, has slipped his masters, And come to practise his fine arts on us. Even if he be no worse — Here comes my Lord. Now, greensleeve, if thou'rt not hag-born, beware me! Enter Westmoreland. West, Which way went Arthur ? Rook, Toward the wood, my lord. With Shiek, and Lady Bayard by the bit, Scarce cooled since yesterday. West. Whither? Rook, Heaven knows, Not I, — Perhaps, on Percy's service. 46 Percy's MASt^UE. Act L West. Rook, If thou guard'st not that venomed tongue — Rook. No doubt, no doubt, my lord, he ably serves you ; Much better than a poor plain vassal, bred In good old Westmoreland, of seed that's know^n, And served your father well, and might, mayhap^ Lead out a course as well as he. Nor spleen, Nor malice prompt me, my good lord, but love And true allegiance. Could your lordship list A rare adventure that befel me, late, Upon the hunt ? West. If it concern me, speak. Rook. My lord, I sometimes ride upon the chase^ An humble follower, like the rest, of Arthur. Not long ago, leading us up and down Under a burning sun the livelong day. He stopped at evening midst a group of huts Sequestered in the Cheviots. In a dingle, Divided from the rest some furlongs, stood Three lonely cabins : there, by strict command, The train was sheltered ; but, for lack, my lord, Of room, my steed was stabled in a barn Planted amidst the thick of cottages. Scene IL Percy's MAsai'E. 4% When I had slept, methought, an hour or twain, I woke ; and as I mused, upon my straw, Chanced to remember somewhat left undone Most needful for my harrassed beast. I rose ; And drawing toward? the green, (the moon being bright) Round which the dwellings of the hamlet stood, Descried a press of peasants by a door. Stopping, I thro' the smoky lattice saw Within, encompassed by a gaping crowd, Our noble leader high in argument. West. Arthur? Rook, The same, my lord — Greyheaded men, And boys, and all between, stock still, agape, Swallowed his words like tidings from the grave. While he, with gestures fierce, and^ye^ like beacons, Of Hotspur spoke. West, Of Hotspur ! Rook, Ha ! — he comes ! — Ever, my lord, he named him — West. Peace ! begone ! When the stir's past of this day and the next, I'll more of this. Begone I [Exit Rook.] Ho\t dare he touch That theme among my vassals ?— Hotspur ! ha ♦ 4S PERCY^S MASQUE. Act HI. Enter Percy. Per. Joy to my lord, and his illustrious dame, That conquering Henry draws so near to Warkworth. West. Thou'rt well encountered. — But a day he stays, And means to hunt, and I a course would hold Worthy my King. Look to your charge. Be found In trim : with horses, hawks, hounds, harness, train, Glistering, and plumed for speed. Send Ivo out To warn the Cheviot warden. Per. Good my lord, Fear not. — What say ye to a Masque, my lord, After the chase, in honour of the King ? West. A Masque ? Per. After the banquet, with my lord's good leave y I know a little pageant that might draw Attention from your guests, and Royal Kinsman. West. 'Twould please me, sir : take w^arrant for't. Per. Vizards, and hoods, and mail, are all we need. West. Open the armory. Per. Please, my gracious lord, That busy meddling fools pry not about me. West. Hie to your task ! [Exit Per. Scene 11. Percy's jStas^ue. 49 That Rook regards him with a jaundiced eye, Hates, and would cast him, gladly, from my favour, Full well I know. There's large allowance : — still,^ To name amidst those peevish factious slaves The race they worship dearer than their God, Is treason. None that loved me e'er would do it.— Anon, I'll know the meaniiig of this tale. [Exit. 50 Percy's masque. Act IF. ACT IV— SCENE I. »5 cavern : a fire of embers burning on the ground, Percy standing in the cavern^s mouth. Per. 'Tis time they came. — That broad and crim- son cloud Which, just now, seemed a fretted vault of fire, Wave after wave, grows pale and gray : — the rook^ Are hush ; — the amber tint of twilight fades. — How oft have I, when fortune seemed afar, Gazed, musing, on that lingering streak of day. And wondered if in all the shining realms Fancied beyond those hills, a bosom dwelt So desolate as mine ! Or eyed yon star Kindle her cresset in the glowing West, And wished her placid bowers had been my birthplace \ Scene L Percy's masque. 51 Now, my exulting heart would scarce exchange Her hopes for Paradise. — Knter Douglas. — Michael to aid 1 Thou ridest with griffin speed. Doug, Well, by the hum, Hurry, and stir abroad, our quarry's harboured ? Per. Two hours ago. Doug, How strong ? Per. Two hundred Knights, And twenty Nobles. Doug, Humph ! one hundred Knights. The courier said. Per, No matter. Doug, Merrier sport ; That's all. Per, You found the soldiers safe ? Doug, Impatient for my summons : dight like pil- grims, In separate bands, by ways obscure they come, To meet upon the outskirts of the wood. — Where's Bertram ? o2 Percy's masc^ue. Act IF. Per. Not yet come. Doug, Not come ! Per, In time — I hear them. Hark ! Doug, Whose deep-toned voice is that ? Per, Old Moun [fort's. Mark me, Douglas — he alone Knows me, or this day's chance : the rest expect But Percy's emissary. Name me not. Enter Bertram, Mountfort, Bardolph, Fitzhugh, a7id several peasants. I'hrice welcome, valiant Mountfort, to our cell ! Lords Fitzhugh, Bardolph, and the rest, all welcome. Mount. Dark as a den of Cyclops ! else my eyes Wax dim apace. Where art thou ? Per. Here, my lord. Mount. Ay, — press me, — make me young again. My lordsj This is the youth I spoke of. Per. Stir a blaze. That we may see each other's faces, Bertram. Dovg. Most noble Mountfort, let me guide thy steps To yonder jutting rock. Sc€7ie L Percy's mas^us. 53 Mount, Who speaks ? ha ? Doug, (^in a low tone) Douglas. Mount. Guide me. Thy voice did thrill my pulses like a trumpet. (Whispering) What ! has he stooped ? the Royal bird ? Doug. Perched, my good lord. Mount. Good King 1 sweet King ! shrive, shrive ! I shall see day yet. [Douglas conducts Mountfort to a seat on the rock by the fire ; -mhich Bertram replenishes and fans to a hlaze~\ Per. (to the peasants.) Draw near, my loving friends : stand not apart. Mount. Now then, explain the cause of this hot summons. Per. In part, my lords, you may have heard its pur- port ? Bard. Touching our master's son, lord Mountfort said, Young Percy. Per. Whom I serve : the hapless youth For whose illustrious Fathers yours' have bled An idle sacrifice. For, where, alas ! The pomp, power, victories, they dearly bought ? 5^^ 54 Percy's mas^i^e. Act IlK The storied memory, my lords, is left In chronicles of other times, and serves. Serves but to wring an Exile's breast with anguish. In the dark tomb their WTeath of glory lies : The Chieftain's arm protects no more : his voice, That should have cheered you in the fields of fame ; In peace, ruled, shepherd-like, his flock, yet sleeps Mute and inglorious, in a land of strangers. My friend, sirs, feels ;— 4as a high heart ; — desires, And memory ;— knows what his fathers were ; — Like them aspires : — Judge how he feels his fate I All day, upon some sea-beat rock he sits, Mourning his people and himself as orphans, Ahdbegs, as heaven's best boon, once to behold them. 1 Peas, (to the others) Mark that ! {drawing near,) The Percy loves us, then ? 2 Peas, When saw you, sir, our noble master ? Mount. Peaee ! No matter, now. — Go on.— Pardon me, friends. Per, Your father, noble Bardolph, was the friend Of old Northumberland, and fared with him When, bowed with bitter years, the reckless EarK Heart-broken by the death of Hotspur, fler Cathedral, in miniature 108 ADVERTISEMENT. But what principally distinguishes the chapel, is a small tomb or monument, on the south side of the altar; on the top of which lies a female figure extended in the manner that effigies are usually exhibited, praying on ancient tombs. This figure, which is very delicately designed, some have ignorantly called an image of the Virgin Mary ; though it has not the least resemblance to the manner in which she is represented in the Romish churches ; who is usually erect, as the object of adoration, and never in a prostrate or recumbent posture. Indeed, the real image of the Blessed Virgin probably stood in a small niche, still visible behind the altar : whereas the figure of a Bull's head, which is rudely car- ved at this Lady's feet, the usual place for the crest in old mon- uments, plainly proves her to have been a very different person* age. About the tomb are several other figures ; which, as well as the principal one above mentioned, are cut in the natural rock, in the same manner as the little chapel itself, with all its ornaments, and the two adjoining apartments. What slight traditions are scattered thro' the country, concerning the origin and foundation of this hermitage, tomb, k,c. are delivered to the reader in the following rhymes. It is universally belived that the founder was one of the Ber- tram family, which had once considerable possessions in North- umberland, and were anciently Lords of Bothal Castle, situate about ten miles from VVarkvvorth He has been thought to be the same Bertram that endowed Brinkburn Priory, and built Brenks- haiigh Chapel : v/hich both stand in the same winding valley, higher up the river. ADVERTISEMENT. 10^ But Briiikbum Priory was founded in the reign of King Heary I. whereas the form of the Gothic windows in this chapel, es- pecially of those near the altar, is found rather to resemble the style of achitecture that prevailed about the reign of King Edward III. And indeed that the sculpture in this chapel can- not be much older, appears from the crest which is placed at the Lady's feet on the tomb ; for Cambden informs us, that armorial crests did not become hereditary till about the reign of King Ed- ward II. These appearances, still extant, strongly confirm the account given in the following poem, and plainly prove that the Hermit of Warkworth was not the same person that founded Brinkburn Priory in the twelfth century, but rather one of the Bertram fa- mily who lived at a later period. 10 THE HERMIT OF WARKWORTH, A .YORTHUMBERMJVD BALLAD. CANTO I. Dark was the night, and wild the storm, And loud the torrent's roar ; And loud the sea was heard to dash Against the distant shore. Musing on man's weak hapless state, The lonely Hermit lay ; When, lo ! he heard a female voice Lament in sore dismay. With hospitable haste he rose. And wak'd his sleeping fire ; And snatching up a lighted brand, Forth hied the reverend sire. il2 All sad beneath a neighbauring tret, A beauteous maid he found, Who beat her breast, and with her tears Bedew'd the mossy ground. ^ weep not, lady, weep not so ^ Nor let vain fears alarm ; My little cell shall shelter thee, And keep thee safe from harm/ '- It is not for myself I weep, Nor for myself I fear ; But for my dear and only friend, Who lately left me here : * And while some sheltering bower he sought Within this lonely wood, Ah ! sore I fear his wandering feet Have slipt in yonder flood.' < ! trust in heaven,' the Hermit said, * And to my cell repair; Doubt not but I shall find thy friend, And ease thee of thy care.' Then climbing up liis rocky stairs, He scales the cliff so high ; And calls aloud, and waves his light. To guide the stranger's eye. 113 Among the thickets long he winds. With careful steps and slow : At length a voice return'd his call, Quick answering from below : < tell me, father, tell me true, If you have chanc'd to see A gentle maid, I lately left Beneath some neighbouring tree : ^But either I have lost the place, Or she hath gone astray ; And much I fear this fatal stream Hath snatch'd her hence away.' * Praise heaven, my son,' the hermit said : *The lady's safe and well;' And soon he join'd the wandering youthj And brought him to his cell. Then well was seen these gentle friend?^ They loved each other dear : The youth he pressed her to his heart : The maid let fall a tear. Ah ! seldom had their host, I ween, Beheld so sweet a pair : The youth was tall, with manly bloom ' She slender, soft, and fair. 10* 114 The youth was clad in forest green, With bugle-horn so bright : She in a silken robe and scarf, Snatch'd up in hasty flight. ' Sit down, my children,' says the Sage ; < Sweet rest your limbs require ;' Then heaps fresh fuel on the hearth, And mends his little fire. * Partake,' he said, ' my simple store, Dried fruits, and milk, and curds ^ And spreading all upon the board, Invites with kindly words. * Thanks, father, for thy bounteous fare,' The youthful couple say : Then freely ate, and made good cheer, And talk'd their cares away. * Now, say, my children, (for perchance My counsel may avail,) What strange adventure brought you here Within this lonely dale ?' * First tell me, father,' said the youth, (Nor blamemine eager tongue,) * What town is near? What lands are these ? And to what lord belong ?' 115 « Alas ! my son,' the Hermit said, < Why do I live to say, The rightful lord of these domains Is banished far away ? * Ten winters now have shed their snows On this my lowly hall, Since valiant Hotspur (so the North Our youthful lord did call) * Against Fourth Henry Bolingbroke Led up his northern powers, And stoutly fighting, lost his life Near proud Salopia's towers. * One son he left, a lovely boy, His country's hope and heir ; And, oh ! to save him from his foes It was his grandsire's care. *In Scotland safe he plae'd the child Beyond the reach of strife, Nor long before the brave old Earl At Bramham lost his life. * And now the Percy name, so long Our northern pride and boast. Lies hid, alas ! beneath a cloud ; Their honours reft and lost. 116 ^ No chieftain of that noble house Now leads our youth to arms ; The bordering Scots despoil our fields, And ravage all our farms. ^ Their halls and castles, once so fair, Now moulder in decay ; Proud strangers now usurp their lands, And bear their wealth away. * Nor far from hence, where yon full stream Runs winding down the lea. Fair Wark worth lifts her lofty towers, And overlooks the sea. ^ Those towers, alas ! now stand forlorn, With noisome weeds o'erspread. Where feasted lords and courtly dames, And where the poor were fed. * Mean time far off, mid Scottish hills The Percy lives unknown ; On strangers' bounty he depends, And may not claim his own. < might I with these aged eyes But live to see him here, Then should my soul depart in bliss V He said, and dropt a tear. 117 « And is the Percy still so lov'd Of all his friends and thee ? Then bless me, father,' said the youth, < For I, thy guest, am he.' Silent he gaz'd, then turn'd aside To wipe the tears he shed ; And lifting up his hands and eyes, Poured blessings on his head : * Welcome, our dear and much-lov'd lord, Thy country's hope and care : — But whom may this young lady be, That is so wondrous fair ?' < Now father listen to my tale, And thou shalt know the tnith : And let thy sage advice direct My unexperienced youth. < In Scotland I've been nobly bred, Beneath the Regent's hand,* In feats of arms, and every lore To fit me for command. * Robert Stuart, Duke of Albany. See the continuator of Fordun's Jcoti-Chronicon, cap. 18, cap. 23, &c. 118 * With fond impatience long I burn'd My native land to see : At length I won my guardian friend, To yield that boon to me. ' Then up and down in hunter's garb I wander'd as in chase, Till in the noble Neville's* house I gained a hunter's place. ' Sometime I liv'd with him unknown, Till I'd the hap so rare, To please this young and gentle dame, That Baron's daughter fair.' • Now, Percy,' said the blushing maid, ' The truth I must reveal ; Souls great and generous, like to thine, Their noble deeds conceal. ' It happened on a summer's day, Led by the fragrant breeze, I wander'd forth to take the air. Among the green-wood trees. * Ralph Neville, first Earl of Westmoreland, whose principal resi* dence was at Raby Castle, in the Bishopric of Durham. 119 < Sudden a band of rugged Scots, That near in ambush lay, Moss-troopers from the border-side, There seized me for their prey. < My shrieks had all been spent in vain, But Heaven, that saw my grief. Brought this brave youth within my call, Who flew to my relief. * With nothing but his hunting spear. And dagger in his hand, He sprung like lightning on my foes, And caus'd them soon to stand. * He fought, till more assistance came ; The Scots were overthrown ; Thus freed me, captive, from their bands. To make me more his own.' ' happy day !' the youth replied : * Blest were the wounds I bare ! From that fond hour she deign'd to smile, And listen to my prayer. * And when she knew my name and birth, She vow'd to be my bride ) But oh ! we fear'd, (alas, the while !) Her princely mother's pride : 120 ' Sister of haughty Bolingbroke, Our house's ancient foe, To me I thought, a banish'd wight, Could ne'er such favour shew. <• Despairing then to gain consent, At length to fly with me I won this lovely timorous maid \ To Scotland bound are we. 'This evening, as the night drew on, Fearing we were pursued, We turn'd adown the right-hand path, And gain'd this lonely wood : * Then lighting from our weary steeds To shun the pelting shower. We met thy kind conducting hand. And reach'd this friendly bower.' *Now rest ye both,' the Hermit said; < Awhile your cares forego ) Nor, Lady, scorn my humble bed ; We'll pass the night below.'* * Adjoining to the cliff, which contains the Chapel of the Hermi- tage, are the remains of a small building, in which the hermit dwelt. This consisted of one lower apartment, with a little bed-chamber over it, and is now in ruins : whereas the Chapel, cut in the solid rack, is still verv entire and perfect. 121 CANTO II. Lovely smil'd the blushing morn, And every storm w^as fled ; But lovelier far, with sweeter smile, Fair Eleanor left her bed. She found her Henry all alone, And cheer'd him with her sight : The youth consulting with his friend Had watch'd the livelong night. What sweet surprise o'erpower'd her breast ! Her cheek what blushes dyed, When fondly he besought her there To yield to be his bride ! — * Within this lonely hermitage There is a chapel meet ; Then grant, dear maid, my fond request. And make my bliss complete.' O Henry, when thou deign'st to sue, Can I thy suit withstand ? When thou, lov'd youth, hast won my heart, Tan I refuse my hand ? 11 J22 ' For thee I left at father's smiles, And mother's tender care ; And, whether weal or woe betide, Thy lot I mean to share.' < And wilt thou then, O generous maid ! Such matchless favour show, To share with me, a banish'd wight, My peril, pain, or woe ? ' Now heaven, I trust, hath joys in store To crown thy constant breast ; Tor, know", fond hope assures my heart That we shall soon be blest. * Not far from hence stands Coquet Isle, Surrounded by the sea ; There dwells a holy friar, well known To all thy friends and thee i* ^ 'Tis father Bernard^ so rever'd For every worthy deed ; To Raby Castle he shall go. And for us kindly plead. * In the little island of Coquet, near Warkworth, are still seen the ruins of a Cell, which belonged to the Benedictine Monks of Tine- mouth Abbey. 123 ^ To fetch this good and holy man Our reverend host is gone ; And soon, I trust, his pious hands Will join us both in one.' Thus they in s^\eet and tender talk The lingering hours beguile : At length they see the hoary sage Come from the neighbouring isle. With pious joy and wonder mix'd He greets the noble pair, And glad consents to join their hands With many a fervent prayer. Then straight to Raby*s distant walls He kindly wends his way ; Mean-time in love and dalliance sweet They spend the livelong day. And now, attended by their host, The Hermitage they view*d, Deep-hewn within a craggy cliff, And overhung with wood. And near, a flight of shapely steps, All cut with nicest skill, And piercing through a stony arch, |ian winding up the hill. i24 There deck'd with many a flower and herb, His little Garden stands ; With fruitful trees in shady rows, All planted by his hands. Then, scoop'd within the solid rock? Three sacred vaults he shows : The chief a chapel, neatly arch'd, On branching columns rose. Each proper ornament was there That should a chapel grace ; The lattice for confession fram*d> And Holy-water vase. O'er either door a sacred text Invites to godly fear j And in a little scutcheon hung The cross, and crown, and spear. Up to the altar's ample breadth, Two easy steps ascend ; And near a glimmering solemn light Two well- wrought windows lend Beside the altar rose a tomb All in the living stone ; On which a young and beauteous maid In goodly sculpture shone. 125 A kneeling angel fairly carv'd Lean'd hovering o'er her breast : A weeping warrior at her feet : And near to these her crest.* The cliff, the vault, but chief the tomb, Attract the wondering pair : Eager they ask, what hapless dame Lies sculptured here so fau* ? The Hermit sigh'd, the Hermit wept, For sorrow scarce could speak : At length he wip'd the trickling tears That all bedew'd his cheek ; * Alas ! my children, human life Is but a vale of woe; And very mournful is the tale Which ye so fain would know.' *This is a BulPs Head, the crest of the Widdrington family. All the figures, &c. here described, are still visible ; onlj somewhat eifaced with length of time. 11* 126 THE HERMITS TALE. * Young lord, thy grandsire had a friend In days of youthful fame ; Yon distant hills were his domains, Sir Bertram was his name. * Where'er the noble Percy fought His friend was at his side ; And many a skirmish with the Scots Their early valour tried. * Young Bertram lov'd a beauteous maid, As fair as fair might be ; The dew-drop on the lily's cheek Was not so fair as she. ' Fair Widdrington the maiden's name, Yon towers her dwelling place ;* Her sire an old Northumbrian chief, Devoted to thy race. < Many a lord and many a knight To this fair damsel came ; But Bertram was her only choice ) For him she felt a flame. Widdrington Castle is about five miles south of Warkworth, 127 < Lord Percy pleaded for his friend, Her father soon consents ; None but the beauteous maid herself His wishes now prevents. « But she with studied fond delays Defers the blissful hour; And loves to try his constancy, And prove her maiden power. * That heart,' she said, ' is lightly priz'd, Which is too lightly won ', And long shall rue that easy maid. Who yields her love too soon.' * Lord Percy made a solemn feast In Alnwick's princely hall ', And there came lords, and there came knights. His chiefs and Barons all. * With wassel, mirth, and revelry, The Castle rung around ; Lord Percy call'd for song and harp, And pipes of martial sound. < The minstrels of thy noble house All clad in robes of blue, With silver crescents on their arms, Attend in order due. 128 The great achievements of thy race They sung : their high command : ' How valiant Mainfred o'er the seas First led his northern band.* < Brave Galfred next to Normandy With venturous Rollo came } And, from his Norman Castles won, Assum'd the Percy name.t " They sung, how in the Conqueror's fleet Lord William shipp'd his powers, And gain'd a fair young Saxon bride With all her lands and towers.t * See Dugdale's Baronage, &c. f In Lower Normandy are three places of the name of Percy : whence the family took the surname of De Percy. $ William de Percy, (fifth in descent from Galfred, or Geffrey de Percy, son of IVlainfred,) assisted in the conquest of England, and had given him the large possessions in Yorkshire, of Emma de Porte, (so the Norman writers name her,) whose father, a great Saxon lord, had been slain fighting along with Harold. This young lady, William, from a principle of honour and generosity, married: for having had all her lands bestowed upon him by the Conqueror, ** he (to use the words of the old Whitby Chronicle) wedded hyr that was very heire to them m discharging of his conscience.'* See Harl. MSS. 692. (26.) He died in Asia, in the first Crusade. 129 • Then journeying to the Holy Land, There bravely fought and died : But first the silver Crescent won, Some Paynim Soldan's pride. ^ They sung how Agnes, beauteous heir, The Queen's own brother wed Lord Josceline, sprung from Charlemagne^ In princely Brabant bred.* ^How he the Percy name reviv'd, And how his noble line Still foremost in their country's cause With godlike ardour shine/ With loud acclaims the listening crowd Applaud the master's song, And deeds of arms and war became The theme of every tongue. * Agnes de Percy, sole heiress of her house, married Josceline de Lovain, youngest son of Godfrey Barbatus, Duke of Brabant, and brother of Queen Adeliza, second wife of King Henry I, He took the name of Percy, and was ancestor of the Earls of Northumberland. His son, Lord Richard de Percy, was one of the twenty-five Barons, chosen to see the Magna Charta duly observed. I3e Now high heroic acts they tell, Their perils past recal : When lo ! a damsel young and fair Stepp'd forward through the hall. She Bertram courteously address'd ; And kneeling on her knee ; — • Sir knight, the Lady of thy love Hath sent this gift to thee.* Then forth she drew a glittering helm Well-plated many a fold, The casque was wrought of temper'd steel, The crest of burnish'd gold. ' Sir knight, thy Lady sends thee this, And yields to be thy bride. When thou hast prov'd this maiden gift Where sharpest blows are tried.' Young Bertram took the shining helm, And thrice he kiss'd the same ; Trust me, I'll prove this precious casque With deeds of noblest fame.' Lord Percy, and his Barons bold, Then fix upon a day To scour the marches, late opprest, And Scottish wrongs repay. 131 The knights assembled on the hills A thousand horse and more ; Brave Widdrington, though sunk in years, The Percy-standard bore. Tweed's limpid current soon they pass, And range the borders round : Down the green slopes of Tiviotdale Their bugle-horns resound. As when a lion in his den Hath heard the hunters' cries, And rushes forth to meet his foes, So did the Douglas rise. Attendant on their Chiefs command A thousand warriors wait : And now the fatal hour drew on Of cruel keen debate. A chosen troop of Scottish youths Advance before the rest ; Lord Percy mark'd their gallant mieft, And thus his friend address'd : • Now, Bertram, prove thy Lady's helm,. Attack yon forward band ; Dead or alive I'll rescue thee, Or perish by their hand.' i"32 Young Bertram bow'd, with glad assent; And spurr'd his eager steed, And calling on his Lady's name, Rush'd forth with whirlwind speed. As when a grove of sapling oaks The livid lightning rends ; So fiercely 'mid opposing ranks Sir Bertram's sword descends. This way and that he drives the steel, And keenly pierces through ; And many a tall and comely knight With furious force he slew. Now closing fast on every side They hem Sir Bertram round : But dauntless he repel^ their rage, And deals forth many a wound. The vigour of his single arm Had well-ni^h won the field ; When pondrous fell a Scottish axe. And clave his lifted shield. Another blow his temples took, And reft ^jl-hc) ii Sv twain ; That beauteous heipi. hL Lady's gift ! His blood bedew'd the plain. 133 Lord Percy saw his champion fall, Amid the unequal fight ; * And now, my noble friends, he said, Let's save this gallant knight.' Then rushing in, with stretch'd-out shield He o'er the warrior hung : As some fierce eagle spreads her wing To guard her callow young. Three times they strove to seize their prey^ Three times they quick retire t What force could stand his furious strokesj Or meet his martial fire ? Now gathering round on every part The battle rag'd amain ; And many a Lady wept her Lord That hour untimely slain, Percy and Douglas, great in arms, There all their courage show'd ; And all the field was strew'd with dead? And all with crimson flowed. At length the glory of the day The Scots reluctant yield, And, after wondrous valour shewn, They slowly quit the field. 12 134 All pale extended on their shields, And weltering in his gore, Lord Percy's knights their bleeding friend To Wark's fair Castle bore. * Well hast thou earn'd ray daughter's love,' Her father kindly said; ^ And she herself shall dress thy wounds. And tend thee in thy bed.' A message went, no daughter came j Fair Isabel ne'er appears : * Beshrew me,' said the aged chief, ' Young maidens have their fears. 'Cheer up, my son, thou shalt her see So soon as thou canst ride ; And she shall nurse thee in her bower, And she shall be thy bride/ Sir Bertram at her name reviv'd, He bless'd the soothing sound ; Fond hope supplied the nurse's care, And heal'd his ghastly wound. Nott. Wark Castle, a fortress belonging to the English, and of great note in ancient tiroes, stood on the southern bank of the river Tweed, a little to the east of Tiviotdale, and not far from Kelso. It is now entirely destroyed* 135 CANTO III. One early morn, while dewy drops Hung trembling on the tree, Sir Bertram from his sick-bed rose, His bride he would go see. A brother he had in prime of youth, Of courage firm and keen; And he would tei.d him on the way Because his wounds svere green, All day o'er moss and moor they rode, By many a lonely tower ; And 'twas the dew-fall of the night Ere they drew near her bower. Most drear and dark the Castle seem'dj That wont to shine so bright , And long and loud Sir Bertram call'd, Ere he beheld a light. At length her aged nurse arose With voice so shrill and clear : < What wight is this, that calls so loud, And knocks so boldly here ?' 136 * Tis Bertram calls, thy Lady's love, Come from his bed of care : All day I've ridden o'er moor and moss To see thy Lady fair.' *Now out alas!' she loudly shriek'd, < Alas ! how may this be ? For six long days are gone and past Since she set out to thee.' Sad terror seiz'd Sir Bertram's heart, And oft he deeply sigh'd ; When now the drawbridge was let down; And gates set open ^vidc. * Six days, young knight, are past and gone Since she set out to thee ; And sure if no sad harm had hap'd Long since thou wouldst her see. * For when she heard thy grievous chancC; She tore her hair, and cried, Alas ! I've slain the comeliest knight, All through my folly and pride ! ' And ROW to atone for my sad fault, And his dear health regain, ril go myself, and nurse my love, And sooth his bed of pain. 137 ' Then mounted she her milk-white steed One morn at break of day ; And two tall yeomen went with her To guard her on the way.' Sad terror smote Sir Bertram's heart, And grief o'erwhelm'd his mind » < Trust me, said he, 1 ne'er will rest Till I thy Lady find.' That night he spent in sorrow and care j And with sad-boding heart Or ever the dawning of the day His brother and he depart. * Now, brother, well our ways divide, O'er Scottish hills to range ; Do thou go North, and I'll go West ; And all our dress we'll change. * Some Scottish carle hath seiz'dmylovej And bore her to his den } And ne'er will I tread English ground Till she is restor'd agen.' The brothers strait their paths divide^ O'er Scottish hills to range ; And hide themselves in quaint disguise, And oft their dress they change. 12* Sir Bertram clad in gown of gray, Most like a palmer poor, To halls and castles wanders round, And begs from door to door. Sometimes a minstrel's garb he wears, With pipes so sweet and shrill ; And wends to every tower and town, O'er every dale and hill. One day as he sate under a thorn All sunk in deep despair, An aged pilgrim pass'd him by. Who mark'd his face of care. < All minstrels yet that ever I saw, Are full of game and glee ; But thou art sad and woe-begone ! I marvel whence it be 1' ' Father, I serve an aged Lord, Whose grief afflicts my mind : His only child is stol'n away, And fain I would her find. ' Cheer up, my son ; perchance, (he said,j Some tidings I may bear ; For oft when human hopes have fail'd, Then heavenly comfort's near. 139 < Behind yon hills so steep and high; Down in the lowly glen, There stands a Castle fair and strong; Far from the abode of men. « As late I chanc'd to crave an aims About this evening hour, Me-thought 1 heard a Lady's voice Lamenting in the tower. ' And when I ask'd what harm had happ'd, What Lady sick there lay, They rudely drove me from the gate, And bade me wend away.' These tidings caught Sir Bertram's ear, He thank'd him for his tale ; And soon he hasted o'er the hills, And soon he reach'd the vale. Then drawing near those lonely towers, Which stood in dale so low, And sitting down beside the gate, His pipes he 'gan to blow^ * Sir Porter, is thy Lord at home To hear a minstrel's song ? Or may I crave at lodging here, Without offence or v.Tong ?' 140 ' My Lord, he said, is not at home To hear a minstrel's song : And should 1 lend thee lodging here My life would not be long.' He play'd again so soft a strain, Such power sweet sounds impart, He won the churlish Porter's ear, And moved his stubborn heart. ' Minstrel, (he said,) thou play'st so sweet, Fair entrance thou should'st win } But, alas, I'm sworn upon the rood To let no stranger in. ' Yet minstrel, in yon rising cliff Thou 'It find a sheltering cave ; And here thou shalt my supper share, And there thy lodging have.' All day he sits beside the gate, And pipes both loud and clear : All night he watches round the walls, In hopes his love to hear. The first night, as he silent watch'd, All at the midnight hour, He plainly heard his Lady's voice Lamenting in the tow^er. 141 The second night the moon shone clear, And gilt thespangl'd dew ; He saw his Lady through the grate, But 'twas a transient view. The third night wearied out he slept 'Till near the morning tide ; When starting up, he siez'd his sword, And to the Castle hied. When, lo ! he saw a ladder of ropes Depending from the wall ; And o'er the moat was newly laid A poplar strong and tall. And soon he saw his love descend Wrapt in a tartan plaid ; Assisted by a sturdy youth In Highland garb y-clad. Amaz'd, confounded at the sight, He lay unseen and still ; And soon he saw them cross the stream, And mount the neighbouring hill. Unheard, unknown of all within, The youthful couple fly. But what can 'scape the lover's ken r Or shun his piercing eye ? 142 With silent steps he follows close Behind the flying pair, And saw her hang upon his arifl With fond familiar air. ' Thanks, gentle youth,' she often sail °, * My thanks thou w ell hast won : For me what wiles hast thou contrived ! For me what dangers run I ' And ever shall my grateful heart Thy services repay :' — Sir Bertram could no farther bear. But cried, * Vile traitor, stay ! * Vile traitor yield that lady up !' — And quick his sword he drew. The stranger turn'd in sudden rage, And at Sir Bertram flew. With mortal hate their vigorous arms Gave many a vengeful blow : But Bertram's stronger hand prevailed, And laid the stranger low. < Die, traitor, die !' — A deadly thrust Attends each furious word; Ah ! then fair Isabel knew his voice, And rushed beneath his sword. 143 ' stop,' she cried, » O stop thy arm ! Thou dost thy brother slay !' — And here the Hermit paus'd and wept : His tongue no more could say. At length he cried, ^ Ye lovely pair^ How shall I tell the rest ? Ere I could stop my piercing sword, It fell, and stabb'd her breast.* ' Wert thou thyself that hapless youth? Ah ! cruel fate !' they said. The Hermit wept, and so did they : They sigh'd ; he hung his head* * blind and jealous rage,* he cried, « What evils from thee flow ?' The Hermit paused ; they silent mourn'd He wept, and they were woe. « Ah ! when I heard my brother's name, And saw my Lady bleed, I rav'd, I wept, I curst my arm, That wrought the fatal deed. ' In vain I clasp'd her to my breast. And closed the ghastly wound ; In vain I pressed his bleeding corpse, And rais'd it from the ground. 144 « My brother, alas ! spake never more, His precious life was flown. She kindly strove to sooth my pain. Regardless of her own.' < Bertram,' she said, < be comforted, And live to think on me : May we in heaven that union prove Which here was not to be ! « Bertram, she said, I still was true; Thou only hadst my heart : May we hereafter meet in bliss I We now, alas ! must part. « For thee, I left my father's hall, And flew to thy relief, When, lo ! near Cheviot's fatal hills I met a Scottish chief, ' Lord Malcolm's son, whose proffer'd love, I had refus'd with scorn ; He slew my guards, and seiz'd on me Upon that fatal mom : ' And in these dreary hated walls He kept me close confined ; And fondly sued, and warmly press'd To win me to his mind. 145 ' Each rising morn increas'd my pain, Each night increas'd my fear! When wandering in this northern garb Thy brother found me here. ^ He quickly form'd this brave design To set me captive free ; And on the moor his horses wait Ty'd to a neighbouring tree. * Then haste, my love, escape away, And for thyself provide ; And sometimes fondly think on her Who should have been thy bride V ' Thus pouring comfort on my soul Even with her latest breath, She gave one parting fond embrace, And clos'd her eyes in death. • In wild amaze, in speechless wo, Devoid of sense I lay : Then sudden all in frantic mood I meant myself to slay : ^ And rising up in furious haste I seiz'd the bloody brand :* * i. e. Sword. 11 146 A sturdy arm here interpos'd, And wrench'd it from my hand. ' A crowd that from the Castle came, Had miss'd their lovely ward ; And seizing me, to prison bare, And deep in dungeon barr*d. ' It chanc'd that on that very morn Their chief was prisoner ta'en : Lord Percy had us soon exchang'd, And strove to soothe my pain. ' And soon those honoured dear remains To England were convey'd; And there within their silent tombs, With holy rites were laid. < For me, I loath'd my wretched life, And oft to end it sought ; Till time, and thought, and holy men, Had better counsels taught. « They rais'd my heart to that pure source; Whence heavenly comforts flows : They taught me to despise the world, And calmly bear its woes. 14 ^ No mor« the slave of human pride, Vain hope, and sordid care ; I meekly vow'd to spend my life In penitence and prayer. < The bold Sir Bertram now no more, Impetuous, haughty, wild ; But poor and humble Benedict; Now lowly, patient, mild : « My lands I gave to feed the poor. And sacred altars raise ; And here a lonely anchorite I came to end my days. ^ This sweet sequestered vale I chose; These rocks, and hanging grove ; For oft beside this murmuring stream My love was wont to rove. < My noble friend approv'd my choice ; This blest retreat he gave : And hore I carv'd her beauteous form, And scoop'd this holy cave. ^ Full fifty winters, all forlorn, My life I've lingered here ; And daily o'er this sculptured saint I drop the pensive tear. 148 ' And thou, dear brother of my heart So faithful and so true, The sad remembrance of thy fate Still makes my bosom rue ! * Yet not unpitied pass'd ray life. Forsaken or forgot, The Percy and his noble Son Would grace my lowly cot. < Oft the great Earl from toils of stal<' And cumbrous pomp of power, Would gladly seek my little cell To spend the tranquil hour. * But length of life is length of woe ' I liv'd to mourn his fall : I liv'd to mourn his godlike Son,' Their friends and followers all. ' But thou the honours of thy race. LovM youth, sbalt now restore : And raise again the Percy name More glorious than before.' ■^ ITc>t>?piir 149 He ceas'd, and on the lovely pair His choicest blessings laid ; While they with thanks and pitying tear? His mournful tale repaid. And now what present course to take They ask the good old sire ; And guided by his sage advice To Scotland they retire. Mean-time their suit such favour found At Raby's stately hall, Earl Neville and his princely spouse Now gladly pardon all. She suppliant at hert nephew's throne The royal grace implor'd : To all the honours of his race The Percy w^as restor'd. The youthful Earl still more and more Admir'd his beauteous dame : Nine noble sons to him she bore, All worthy of their name. t King Henry V. A. D. 1414. END OF THE BALLAD. 150 Note. — The account given in the foregoing Ballad of youn- Percy, the son of Hotspur, receiv^es the following confirmation from the old Chronicle of Whitby : " Henry Percy, the son of Sir Henry Percy, that was slayne "at Shrewesbery, and of Elizabeth, the daughter of the Erie of ^•Marche, after the death of his father and grauntsyre, was exild "into Scotland'* in the time of King Henry the Fourth: but in " the time of King Henry the Fifth, by the labour of Johanne Or. * , y ^ s • • # *^^ ^ • ^ Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. • N K ^' Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide '^f% ^ Treatment Date: March 2009 ' • 4>^^ PreservationTechnologies «i* S"^^^^* ^ *V» A WORLD LEADER IN COLLECTIONS PRESERVATION Jf| ^J^ ^^ i^* A. 111 Thomson Park Drive &^ ««» •* ^\^ ^ Cranberry Township, PA 16066 >• ^ ^^ A^ «•!•♦ (724)779-2111 , ».j^55:^^^^ H<^^ '^^ -. " ^««kM^ • ^