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And rest thy throbbing temples on my bosom,
As if it were thy mistress': nay, shrink not,
For I will tend you with a woman's care,

Boy though I be.
Saavedra. Ah ! leave.
Cynthio. Nay, now-
Saavedra. O thou deep wilderness !

Tomb of our chivalry!-Ah, prythee leave,
Leave this unwelcome service; bind me not-
Spain, thou art fall’n !-1 prythee, bind me not,
Fond boy, with cruel bands that keep life in ;
Rather enlarge my spirit with thy sword:
Death hath no features half so grim as these
Which blacken on the field; each several face
Seems to draw up the parched lips in scorn
Of cowardice; and every eyeball glares
Reproachful on the wretch who dared to live.

Wilt thou still bind?
Cynthio. Ah, my good lord, Spain's wounds:

The pride of old Castile shall rise again
With every drop I savè; the Lion's mane
Shall bristle with each sinew I weave up
In this strong arm; and I do prophesy
Miramolin shall fall beneath it, and the Moor
Bathe the proud wreath he gather'd on this field,
In dark and bloody tears. Look up, look up,

This shall be so.
Saavedra. Dost think so, boy?
Cynthio. I know it;

Only look up, and let me bind thine arm:
Why here's red blood enough to drown a Moor,
Spent on the innocent flowers : keep it for battle,
When Spain shall need its spending. So, so, 80,-
What would thy gentle Arethusa say,
Were I to tell, her knight had bled to death,

Whilst I stood reckless by?
Saavedra. Oh, Arethuse!
Cynthio. She whom thou call'st thy love; with what true faith

Heav'n knows, not I. Come, for thy country's sake,

If not for her's, live on. Saavedra. For Spain and her

I'll live. Come, bind; bind up mine arm, I say:

I have another life to give my country.
Cynthio. Ay, not for Arethuse.
Saavedra. For Arethuse and Spain,

My country and my love. But hark thee, Cynthio:

Wert thou not hurt i' the fight? Cynthio. A scratch, my lord;

Here, just about the wrist.
Saavedra. Nay, gentle boy,

I think 'twas near thy bosom; that fell Moor
Struck at thy helpless youth beneath mine arm;
I could not shield both Spain and thee at once:
Why wouldst thou follow me perversely so,
'Gainst my forbidding ? battle's not for thee,

Thou woman-boy!
Cynthio. Fain, fain to die with thee.
Saavedra. Sure thou wert wounded: Come, uncase thy breast ;

I swear thou hast a wound. Cynthio. My lord, my lord,

Ope not my breast-I am not wounded-no.

Sooth ! I am not
Saavedra. Thou’rt modest as a maid.

But whence, then, all this blood staining thy vest?
Cynthio. O—from thine arm, thine own arm-
Saavedra. Bind it, then !

Ay, I will live for Spain : Come, bind it up:
For Spain and Arethusa: haughty Infidel,
Thy crest shall bow for this : Come, bind me, bind me;
Thou wert not wont to be slow :-To live,
Till Paynim blood has paid back drop for drop,
Ay, that were sweet ;-to free the land! to make
The name of Roman Brutus less than mine!-
To wear the rose of honour on my crest,
And press the flower of beauty in my arms—
O Arethuse! O Spain! 0 Chivalry! -
Cynthio, thou sleep'st-bind me, I say: I swear
The Saracen shall rue-why dost not bind ?
What! toild so soon? Wherefore dost grow so pale?

Doth my blood fright thee?
Cynthio. Ay, my lord, i' faith.
Saavedra. Why, thou speak’st faintly; art thou sick, my boy?
Droop not, sweet Cynthio-

(Cynthio falls on his master's arm, and dies.)

O ye pitiful heav'ns !
Take not my boy, take not my faithful boy,
My faithful, generous boy, that staying mine,
Let his own life run out. O gentle lad!
Look up, and turn thy pretty eyes once more
On thy dear master. Ho! the wound, the wound !

(Opening Cynthio's vest.)
His sweet breast's full of blood ;–O sun and stars!
A woman, and her bosom's snow defiled
With streams of crimson gore !-unhelm, unhelm !
A maid has been my squire. —

(Taking off her helmet.)

O Arethuse!
These are thy golden locks! these are thy curls!
I know them by their brightness and their fall.-
Now roll, ye waves! chime on, ye teeming waves !
And keep the sullen cadence that ye owe,
Hoarse dirge for many a hero! my death-chorus !
Rave me a pleasant requiem.-Dead ? art thou dead ?
Sweet Arethuse, my mistress and my page?-
Mere marble !_See her delicate fingers, twined
Amongst her bands, hang listless o'er my arm :
Her beauteous head droops gently on my breast,
Like an untimely lily cropt in spring :
Ay, here's the high and crystal brow indeed,
O'er which these tresses spread their yellow waves ;
The cheek, the neck, the bosom, once pure bloom,-
Now pale enough to need no monument.
O luckless Arethusa !
Was it for this, dear maid, thy happy bowers
Were all forsaken? did thy slender limbs
Endure the coarser garments of a boy,
For this ungrateful meed? For this, for this,
Was danger, toil, and calumny out-braved ?
Battle, and blood, encounter'd by my side?
To die at last, so young, so true, so fair,
A death of cruel pain! Love, thou art strong,
Can'st make a hero of a tender girl,
And fearful woman brave ! Dear Arethuse,
My faithful page, my mistress best-beloved,
Thus let me press thy bosom to my breast;
One kiss,-the next shall welcome me to heav'n.

(Falls on his sword beside her.)

" Remove not the old landmarks; and enter not into the fields of the

fatherless.”Proverbs, xxii. 10. There is a part of Suffolk known grow squat and gnarled-while in by the name of the “dairy district,” many parts the sterility of the soil which, to the curious in the pasto- has tamed down alike the oak, the ral branch of domestic economy, ash, the beech, and the elm; and presents all that is interesting in the there they flourish, in the company care and pasturage of cows, and the of holly and mountain ash,- a kind of production of the richest cheese and better brushwood. In the green and butter. When you pass from the winding avenues innumerable herds land of the reap-hook and plough- of cows browze, or lie by the sunny share into the region of natural grass side of the woods, chewing the cud, and perpetual pasturage, you cannot and lowing for the approach of a be insensible that a corresponding bevy of bare-armed maidens, who change has taken place in the man ease them, at stated times, of their ners and bearing of the people. It increasing and painful burthen. The is true you will find no vacant shep- whole land seems divided by the hand herds piping in the dale, nor meet of nature—the landmarks of knolls, with flocks which seem fond of any and streams, and woods, portion it other melody save that of the run out into many large and irregular ning brooks, where the grass is farms, each with hall and cattleabundant, and the wild yellow clover houses, rows of hacks, and lines of green and savoury: The herds of open sheds. An hundred hinds and cows—the ring-straked, the speckled, maidens—to borrow the round numand the spotted, seem a most labo- bers in which pastoral dreamers deal rious grass-devouring race, bearing ---are at intervals going and returnno resemblance to those more favour- ing, laden with the liquid ore out of ed animals which browze with such which the treasures of the district are delicacy of taste, and low so melo- coined. The simile of a commondiously, over the bloomy fields of wealth of bees singing as they go and some of our pastoral bards. If they come, and storing up the riches of are not of a strict pastoral kind, and the fields, though far from new, apa cannot claim descent from those plies with great propriety to a race flocks to which Apollo piped and of people who rival in industry and Daphnis sang, they are nevertheless in melody those laborious and harm a fair and a stately breed-of the co- monious insects. lour of the richest cream—with an When you advance into the counappetite which seems uncloged with try, and the sharp edge of curiothe balmiest morsels of the fields, sity is somewhat blunted, you will and with udders ample and distend- find leisure to observe that each subed, nearly touching the ground, and division of the district has a system seeming ready to shed at every step of management peculiar to itself. In the fragrant treasures they contain. one place a scrupulous observance of

As you stand where the plough has old pastoral rules prevails ; in anstopt, and where the last ridges of other, the indiscreet goddess, Chance, grain are waving, you will see before seems to have acquired the mastery; you, as far as the eye can reach, a while the thirst of gain predominates region of natural pastures, bounded on a third division. It is of the divia by long ridges of sloping hills, inter- sion over which Mammon was then sected by several pure but dilatory waving his banner that our story streams, through the deepest of which must speak; and as it must speak a girl may wade, and over the broad- with a tongue some sixty years old, est of which a man may leap; while we may suppose ourselves wafted some scattered remnants of old fo- back to that period, and that we are rests guard the whole from the full looking for the first time over the sweep of the northern blast. In immense patriarchal establishment of some places the trees rise, tall and herds, and hinds, and bondwomen. straight-in a less favoured spot they In other lands the cows roamed at Dec. 1823.


large, feeding in groupes by the oaks, and of a distant field grazed by brook-banks; but here they stood numerous cows. fastened to rough wooden mangers, It is, indeed,” said one, who had in rank succeeding rank, with cut all the tokens of the pastoral charge grass before them, and a moveable of souls about him, “ an ancient and fence of rods or reeds to protect a venerable place-tradition hesitates them from the wind. Many men about the date of its foundation, and and maidens attended to the filling certain of those sages, the antiquaries, or clearing of the mangers—or moved have written very learnedly and unthe fences, as the wind shifted, or intelligibly about it. In groping after knelt--or, to borrow a northern word, its date, they have filled their bands « hunkered” and filled their innume- with idle controversy, and, in a style rable pails with milk. Others at swollen with Norman and Saxon home, on the cool tiled floors of the names, have floundered on till they dairies, transformed, in many a reek- are stayed by the very reasonable ing pan, the new milked-milk into legend of the Wolf and Št. Edmund's curds, pressed out the whey with head-and there have they halted their hands, and filled the cheese- for breath before they take another moulds, and placed them under the step up the dark stair of conjecture cheese-presses. Another department and absurdity.” “ It would perhaps presented some dozens of busy hands be presumptuous," said his compaextracting, with many a plunge and nion, who seemed, by his shrewd and pull, the butter from the cream suspicious eye, to be one learned in washing it in cold spring water, and the law, “ while such a controversy dressing it out in all its attractions for pends, to offer the opinion of one so market. Over the whole, one or two simple as myself: but to eyes less inold, considerate, calculating female spired indeed than those through spirits presided, and seemed, by their which antiquaries look, the house smooth shining looks, and round seems of the age of Henry VII. plump forms, something like suitable The arms of the noble name of Benpersonifications of those savoury net may be seen very curiously carved commodities-butter and cheese. amid the interlacings of vine and ivy

The house, or rather hall, to which leaves, while over it is the figure of all those herds and hinds belonged, a wolf couching with a human head merits some notice. It had been in between its paws, which it may be other times a dwelling of note. It either watching or devouring.. The was built chiefly with beams of wise on those matters say it is the framed oak, richly carved in a deep wolf and the head of St. Edmund sharp old Saxon style, with high peak while the simple, and therefore unends and latticed windows, and with wise, say it is the arms of the corpo, many marks of original grandeur and ration of weavers - a wolf's head antique beauty about it. Those who with a shuttle in its mouth.” Are ye are anxious after day and date for all sure,” said the divine, “ that the the labours of man may obtain a leaves are those of the grape ?” “As useful lesson in the controversy which sure,” said the lawyer, as that then burned, and which still smoul- grapes never grow without leaves.” ders, concerning the age of the hall. Then,” said the divine,“ this On that very morning in which a throws some light on an old boast, man somewhat curious about truth that the lands of Framlingham, that would desire to commence this de- now flow with milk, once flowed sultory but remarkable tale, it hap- with wine.” « Ah! the old vine pened that the antiquity of the terraces of Framlingham," said the hall had engaged the attention of two lawyer, “ which, planted by the persons, who, summoned on other Romans, intoxicated the Saxons, and business, sat under the southern filled the monks with delight, and porch-way, side by side. From this the nuns with joy. Those were place they had a view of a wandering merry times, Mr. Horegrove; but stream-which had obtained the merry times never last long. And I name of the Larke, from emitting, as am afraid, after all, that this English it ran, a kind of melodious din among wine would feel sour to the fastidious its pebbles ; they had also a view of lips of the present generation." many clumps of very old and stately At this moment a female shriek

was heard in the hall, and the person land, unless it's scribbled on a sheep'se who uttered it came suddenly out, skin by a knave? I hate the breedsmiting one hand upon another. I hate the breed. The Lord deliver « Come, start ye!” said she, ad- the pasture-lands of the old district dressing at once the divine and the from priests, lawyers, and the brinlawyer; “ Come, stir ye-stir ye: dled brood of Norfolk. Away with the breath will be out, and the devil ġon! Away with you!” They rose, will be in, and Coldengame-hall will and went away. lack a master, while ye sit here talk A tall handsome young man now ing of Framlingham oaks and Robin entered the chamber; he advanced Grande's vine terraces. He's gasp- to the chair, took the sick man by ing his last gasp, and no a sensible the hand, and turned his head away soul near him to hear the last words to hide the tear which was not of an expiring sinner !” The room there to drop. “ Elias Neyland," into which they rose and followed said the old man, “I must leave the this unceremonious messenger was a green pastures of Coldengame and small chamber, hewn out of oak as the clear stream of the Larke, and hard as iron, and as black as ink; all my milch-cows—and a fairer and lighted by a small window balf brood never nipt the morning, grass, shut up with a vine run wild. In an nor yielded milk to a maiden's hand old stuffed arm-chair-with arms, -I must leave them all, Elias and and mottoes, and texts of scripture, leave my gold, and my gains, and my strewn over it, they found a hale- thrifty bargains, and the prospect of looking old man, who, with clasped large increase, and all to a thriftless hands, and an unsettled wildness of and a prodigal son, who spent foureye, sat gazing round and round as pence half-penny at last Ipswich fạir, if something, visible to him alone and drank the cream off yesterday, flitted from place to place, and was morning's milk. Men will say, as giving him great pain.

they hold out their fingers at thee, “ Where is Elias, my son ?" said « There goes waster Elias, the only the old man;" when the wind is son of old saving Edward Ney. shaking the fruit tree, he should be land. Ah! Elias, Elias, what made near to gather the fruit. You are ye of the silver sixpence I gave ye on welcome, Mr. Horegrove--if that's your birth-day-ye will break your your name—and you, sir, are wel- father's heart, Elias." come too-ye are the new-come “ Father,” said the youth, your lawyer-ye came here when the Nor- days may yet be many; and you may folk breed of cows came—and the live to add field to field, and sum to dairy district has never thriven since. sum; and the delight of gain and the We come weeping, Mr. Horegrove, gladness of riches may

be yours

for into the world, and we go groaning å score of years. Father, your reout; and of all that we love, we proach is unjust. I have learned to can take nought with us. I wish make money work while men sleepthe curse of man and of God would I beat Gisleham at bargain-making ; remain behind on the earth with I took in Gripington in open barter them who brought in the brindled at noon-day, and fairly outwitted breed of cows. But when will moan Cresswell out of one of his best beiing mend us—the fair fields and the fers. I cannot pass along the street pure gold we have sinned our soulson a market-day but I hear men in seeking must bide where they are. whisper, “That's young Neyland of What could I do with the broad Coldengame-a flint-a nail-a file lands of Coldengame in another —his father's a cloud raining manna world? And now I think that's compared to him—he has an eye like nearly as good as a sermon, Mr. à cormorant, and every finger is a Horegrove; I knew all you would fish-hook.' My son," said the say, and said it for ye, and so I bid old man, “ my heart is cheered-ye you good morrow. And now I think are indeed my child. Ah! I thought on't, ye may as well take Mr. Wind- ye had a touch too much of your molas the lawyer with you, I hate the ther—a wise and a thrifty woman, breed-I hate the breed. Will the Elias, in all things, save in giving pleasant lands of Coldengame not de- her cheese-parings to the parish poor, scend with the old name of Ney- and wearing laced head-gear on ho

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