No sight of harm, no sound of i,
It is a deep and midnight still.
Who look'd upon the scene, had guess'd
All in the Castle were at rest:
When sudden on the windows shone
A lightning flash, just seen and gone!
A shot is heard-Again the flame
Flash'd thick and fast-a volley came;
Then echo'd wildly, from within,
Of shout and scream the mingled din,
And weapon-clash and madd'ning cry,
Of those who kill, and those who die!-
As fill'd the Hall with sulph'rous smoke,
More red, more dark, the death-flash broke,
And forms were on the lattice cast,
That struck or struggled, as they past.
What sounds upon the midnight wind
Approach so rapidly behind?
It is, it is the tramp of steeds,
Matilda hears the sound, she speeds,
Seizes upon the leader's rein-
"O, haste to aid, ere aid be vain!
Fly to the postern-gain the Hall !”
From saddle spring the troopers all;
Their gallant steeds, at liberty,
Run wild along the moonlight lea.
But, ere they burst upon the scene,
Full stubborn had the conflict been.
When Bertram mark'd Matilda's flight,
It gave the signal for the fight;
And Rokeby's vet'rans, seam'd with scars
Of Scotland's and of Erin's wars,
Their momentary panic o'er,
Stood to the arms which then they bore
(For they were weapon'd, and prepar'd
Their Mistress on her way to guard.)
Then cheer'd them to the fight O'Neale,
Then peal'd the shot, and clash'd the steel;
The war-smoke soon with sable breath
Darken'd the scene of blood and death,
While on the few defenders close
The Bandits, with redoubled blows,
And twice driv'n back, yet fierce and fell,
Renew the charge with frantic yell
Wilfrid has fall'n-but o'er him stood
Young Redmond, soil'd with smoke and blood,
Cheering his mates with heart and hand
Still to make good their desp'rate stand.
"Up, comrades, up! In Rokeby halls
Ne'er be it said our courage falls.
What! faint ye for their savage cry,
Or do the smoke-wreaths daunt your eye?
These rafters have return'd a shout
As loud at Rokeby's wassail rout,
As thick a smoke these hearths have given
At Hallow-tide or Christmas-even.*
Stand to it yet! renew the fight,
For Rokeby's and Matilda's right!
These slaves! they dare not, hand to hand,
Bide buffet from a true man's brand."
Impetuous, active, fierce, and young,
Upon th' advancing foes he sprung.
Woe to the wretch at whom is bent
His brandish'd falchion's sheer descent!
Backward they scatter'd as he came,
Like wolves before the levin flame,
When, mid their howling conclave driven,
Hath glanc'd the thunderbolt of heaven.
Bertram rush'd on-but Harpool clasp'd,
His knees, although in death he gasp'd,
His falling corpse before him flung,
And round the trammell'd ruffian clung.
Just then, the soldiers fill'd the dome,
And, shouting, charg'd the felons home
So fiercely, that in panic dread,
They broke, they yielded, fell, or fled,
Bertram's stern voice they heed no more
Though heard above the battle's roar;
Such an exhortation was, in similar circumstances, actually
given to his followers by a Welsh chieftain.
While, trampling down the dying mar
He strove, with volley'd threat and ban,
In scorn of odds, in fate's despite,
To rally up the desp'rate fight.
Soon murkier clouds the Hall enfold,
Than e'er from battle-thunders roll'd!
So dense, the combatants scarce know
To aim or to avoid the blow.
Smoth'ring and blindfold grows the fight.
But soon shall dawn a dismal light!
Mid cries, and clashing arms, there came
The hollow sound of rushing flame;
New horrors on the tumult dire
Arise the Castle is on fire!
Doubtful, if chance had cast the brand,
Or frantic Bertram's desp'rate hand.
Matilda saw-for frequent broke
From the dim casements gusts of smoke
Yon tow'r, which late so clear defin'd
On the fair hemisphere reclin'd,
That, pencill'd on its azure pure,
The eye could count each embrasure,
Now, swath'd within the sweeping cloud,
Seems giant-spectre in his shroud;
Till, from each loop-hole flashing light
A spout of fire shines ruddy bright,
And, gath'ring to united glare,
Streams high into the midnight air;
A dismal beacon, far and wide,
That waken'd Greta's slumb'ring side.
Soon all beneath, through gall'ry long
And pendant arch, the fire flash'd stron
Snatching whatever could maintain,
Raise, or extend, its furious reign;
Startling, with closer cause of dread,
The females who the conflict fled,
And now rush'd forth upon the plain,
Filling the air with clamours vain.
But ceas'd not yet, the Hall within,
The shriek, the shout, the carnage-din,
Till bursting lattices give proof
The flames have caught the rafter'd roof.
What! wait they till its beams amain
Crash on the slayers and the slain ?
Th' alarm is caught-the drawbridge falls,
The warriors hurry from the walls,
But, by the conflagration's light,
Upon the lawn renew the fight.
Each straggling felon down was hew'd,
Not one could gain the shelt'ring wood;
But forth th' affrighted harper sprung,
And to Matilda's robe he clung.
Her shriek, entreaty, and command,
Stopp'd the pursuer's lifted hand,
Denzil and he alive were ta'en;
The rest, save Bertram, all are slain.
And where i: Bertram ?-Soaring high,
The gen'ral flame ascends the sky;
In gather'd group the soldiers gaze
Upon the broad and roaring blaze,
When, like infernal demon, sent
Red from his penal element,
To plague and to pollute the air,-
His face all gore, on fire his hair,
Forth from the central mass of smoke
The giant form of Bertram broke!
His brandish'd sword on high he rears,
Then plung'd among opposing spears;
Round his left arm his mantle truss'd,
Receiv'd and foil'd three lances' thrust.
Nor these his headlong course withstood,
Like reeds he snapp'd the tough ash-wood.
In vain his foes around him clung;
With matchless force aside he flung
Their boldest,-as the bull, at bay,
Tosses the ban-dogs from his way,
Through forty foes his path he made.
And safely gain'd the forest glade.
Scarce was this final conflict o'er,
When from the postern Redmond bore
Wilfrid, who, as of life bereft,
Had in the fatal Hall been left.
Deserted there by all his train;
But Redmond saw, and turn'd again.
Beneath an oak he laid him down,
That in the blaze gleam'd ruddy brown,
And then his mantle's clasp undid;
Matilda held his drooping head,
Till, giv'n to breathe the freer air,
Returning life repaid their care.
He gaz'd on thein with heavy sigh,—
"I could have wish'd ev'n thus to die!"
No more he said-for now with speed
Each trooper had regain'd his steed;
The ready palfreys stood array'd,
For Redmond and for Rokeby's Maid;
Two Wilfrid on his horse sustain,
One leads his charger by the rein.
But oft Matilda look'd behind,
the Vale of Tees they wind, Where far the mansion of her sires Beacon'd the dale with midnight fires. In gloomy arch above them spread, The clouded heav'n lower'd bloody red: Beneath, in sombre light, the flood Appear'd to roli in waves of blood. Then, one by one, was heard to fall The tow'r, the donjon-keep, the hall. Each rushing down with thunder sound, A space the conflagration drown'd; Till, gath'ring strength, again it rose, Announc'd its triumph in its close, Shook wide its light the landscape o'er, Then sunk and Rokeby was no more
THE summer sun, whose early pow?
Was wont to gild Matilda's bow'r,
|