And Dacre to our call replies This night, the banner shall be planted!" Leap down into the court-"Tis won' To that brave deed, Which struck with terror friends and foes! CANTO V. HIGH on a point of rugged ground, An edifice of warlike frame Stands single (Norton Tower its name); The summit of this bold ascent, From wind, or frost, or vapours wet; But now his child, with anguish pale, For she had hoped, had hoped and feared, She turned to him, who with his eye Was watching her while on the height She sate, or wandered restlessly, O'erburthened by her sorrow's weight; To him who this dire news had told, And now beside the mourner stood. That gray-haired man of gentle blood, Who with her father had grown old In friendship, rival hunters they, And fellow-warriors in their day; To Rylstone he the tidings brought; Then on this place the maid had sought; And told, as gently as could be, The end of that sad tragedy, Which it had been his lot to see. To him the lady turned: "You said That Francis lives, he is not dead?" "Your noble brother hath been spared, To take his life they have not dared. On him and on his high endeavour The light of praise shall shine for ever! Nor did he (such Heaven's will) in vain His solitary course maintain; Not vainly struggled in the might Of duty, seeing with clear sight; He was their comfort to the last, Their joy till every pang was past. "I witnessed when to York they cameWhat, lady, if their feet were tied! They might deserve a good man's blame; But, marks of infamy and shame, These were their triumph, these their pride. Nor wanted mid the pressing crowd Deep feeling, that found utterance loud. He parted from them; but at their side Then peace to cruelty and scorn, "And so in prison were they laid— Me did a reverent pity move And privilege of ancient love; And, in your service, I made bold And entrance gained to that stronghold. "Your father gave me cordial greeting; But to his purposes, that burned Within him, instantly returnedHe was commanding and entreating, And said, 'We need not stop, my son! But I will end what is begun; 'Tis matter which I do not fear To intrust to any living ear.' And so to Francis he renewed His words, more calmly thus pursued. Agh: This our enterprise have sped, Change wide and deer the land nat seen, A renovation from the dead. A spring-tide at immorta green: The darksom altars would have blazed Once more the roou hau beer praised The voice restored the eye of truth ***A shadow of such thought remains To cheer this sač and pensive time; A solemn fancy yet sustains One feeble being-bids me climb Even to the last-one effort more To attest my faith, if not restore. ***Hear then,' said he, while I impart, My son, the last wish of my heart. The banner strive thou to regain; And, if the endeavour be not vain, Bear it-to whom if not to thee Shall I this lonely thought consign?Bear it to Bolton Priory, And lay it on Saint Mary's shrine, |