Most obliged,most obedient,and most humble Servant, THE AUTHOR. London, 1st. June, 1813. LIST OF SUBSCRIBERSTO The Rival Roses, or Wars of York and Lancaster, A POEM. A. Mr. Adams, Emmanuel College, Cambridge Rev. J. Aspland, Pembroke Hall, ditto Mrs. Apthorp, Cambridge Colonel Adeane, Babraham John Armstrong, Caius College Rev. Thomas Allsopp, Fressingfield, Suffolk Thomas Archer, Esq. jun. Solicitor, Ely B. Lord Bishop of Bristol Right Hon. the Lady Bradford Right Hon. Lord Braybrooke Rev. Dr. Barnes, Master of Peterhouse College Rev. Dr. Browne, Master of Christ's College Hon. and Rev. George Bridgman Rev. Mr. Blackall, North Cadbury, Somersetshire Rev. C. Blick, St. John's College Rev. T. K. Bonney, Clare Hall Rev. B. Bridge, Peterhouse College Rev. George Barnes, Queen's College Rev. Mr. Burrell, Catherine Hall Rev. T. C. Burroughs, Landbeach Rev. James Brown, Norwich Mr. J. Blackall, Emmanuel College James Burleigh, Esq., Cambridge Mr. Barker, Cambridge Mrs. Beales, West Square, Lambeth Francis Bagge, Esq., Ely B. Baily, Esq., London C. Barnwell, Esq., Bath Geo. Nat. Best, Esq. Barrister, Essex Street, Strand Thomas Bowyer, Esq., Swaffham James K. Brown, Esq., Mark Lane Mr. John Brown, Ely Book Club, Black Bull, Cambridge Book Club, Town Coffee House, Cambridge Rev. George A. Browne, Trinity College Mrs. Beauman, Heckfield Captain Beauman, R. N., Ditto B. Booth, Esq., St. John's College Mark Bullen, Esq., Ditton Hall, Cambridgeshire Rev. John Bringhurst, Woodston, Huntingdonshire Roberts Bevil, Esq., March, Isle of Ely William Brewster, Esq., Farndon William Booth, Esq., Stanstead Deal, Herts Rev. James Burgess, 2, Trinity College, Cambridge Mr. Justice Le Blanc C. Lord Bishop of Cloyne, 2 Rev. Dr. Craven, Master of St. John's College Rev. E. D. Clarke, LL.D., Jesus College Rev. William Chafy, Sidney ditto Rev. Thomas Catton, St. John's College Mrs. Cary, Emmanuel Lodge Rev. Benedict Chapman, Caius College Rev. Townley Clarkson, Hinxton Rev. Alexander Cotton, Girton Rev. J. Comming, Trinity College Rev. Mr. Chappelow, Hill Street, Berkeley Square George Caldwell, Esq., Jesus College T. Carvick, Esq., Norwood Green Mrs. Clay, Bolton Street, Piccadilly Edward Christian, Esq., Professor of Modern History Mr. W. Costeker, Cornhill Rev. Dr. Chatfield, Emmanuel College Richard Comings, Esq., Cambridge Mr. Cæsar, Cambridge N. Calvert, Esq. M.P., Hunsdon, Herts Walter Calvert, Esq., Ditto Rev. W. Calvert, Ditto Rev. Charles Chester, Barley, Herts Thomas Canning, Esq., Christ's College Mrs. Crosdaile, Hargrave Lodge, Stanstead Mr. J. W. B. Case, Bishops Stortford Edward James Curtis, Esq., Ditton, Cambridgeshire Thomas Colbeck, Esq., Surgeon, Hertford D. Rev. Dr. Davy, Master of Caius College Rev. Dr. Davie, Master of Sidney College Rev. Dr. Douglas, Master of Benet College Rev. Dr Dampier, Prebendary of Ely Rev. Mr. Davis, 2, Trinity College, Cambridge Rev. T. Dicks, Jesus College Mrs. D'Oyley, Hevinghall, Norfolk Edward Drummond, Esq., Charing Cross Charles Drummond, Esq. Jun., Ditto James Thurlow Dering, Esq., Downham, Norfolk Salesbury Dunn, Esq., Burwell, Cambridgeshire Rev. Mr. Dalton, Norman House, Stanstead Mrs. Dalton, Ditto Mr. Samuel Day, Stanstead E. John Eaden, Esq., Cambridge H. R. Evans, Esq., Solicitor, Ely John E'des, Esq., Wisbeach R. Empson, Esq., St. John's College Mrs. Edwards, Dunmow, Essex Mrs. Edwards, Chesterford, Essex F. Hon. Gen. Edw. Finch, M.P. 2 Rev. James Fawcett, St. John's College Rev. Joah Furey, King's College Mr. Fox, Emmanuel College Mrs. Fisher, Cambridge Baroness de Feilitzsch, Stanstead Priory, Essex Professor Farish, Cambridge Joseph Fairman, Esq., Stanstead Mr. T. Francis, London E. S. Foss, Esq., Essex Street, Strand G. Rev. Dr. Gretton, Master of Magdalen College Rev. H. R. Greenwood, Trinity College Rev. B. Gilpin, Christ's College Rev. D. Guilt, Caius College Mr. Gaussen, Emmanuel College Mrs. Steed Girdlestone, Wisbeach Sir Robert Graham, Baron of the Exchequer Rev. Mr. Gray, Twinsted, Essex Rev. Mr. Grant, Stansted Mountfichet, Essex Mr. Joseph Gee, Cambridge Mrs. Griffith, Ely H. Earl of Hardwicke Countess of Hardwicke Sir Busick Hardwood, M. D., Downing College Rev. Mr. Holme, Emmanuel College Rev J. H. Hailstone, Woodwardian Professor, Trin. C. Rev. T. W. Hornbuckle, St. John's College Rev. J. Hart, St. John's ditto Rev. N. L. Hendry, Benet College Rev. A. E. Henshaw, Trinity ditto Rev. J. Hudson, Ditto Rev. G Hewett, Queen's College Rev. F. Howes, Edward Hibgame, Esq., Jesus College Mr. Hardy, 2, Emmanuel ditto William Hunt, Esq., King's College William Hustler, Esq., Jesus College Miss Ham, Bethnal Green Miss Hooper, Ross, Herefordshire T. Hovell, Esq., Cambridge Henry Hoare, Esq., Fleet Street Henry Hugh Hoare, Esq., [Fleet Street] Henry Meyrick Hoare, Esq., [Fleet Street] William Henry Hoare, Esq., [Fleet Street] Henry Charles Hoare, Esq., [Fleet Street] Charles Hoare, Esq., [Fleet Street] Hugh Richard Hoare, Esq., [Fleet Street] James Howard, Esq., London John Hammond, Esq., Fenstanton, Hunts James Hammet, Esq., Lombard Street Henry Hulton, Esq., London Rev. Dr. Hardy, Loughborough, Leicestershire Mrs. Hardy, Ditto F. Hodgson, Esq., King's College John Haggerstone, Esq., Christ's College James Host, Esq., Cambridge John Archer Houblon, Esq. M. P. Mrs. Archer Houblon Mrs. Thomas Hankin, Stanstead Deal, Herts Jos. Hankin, Esq., Ditto Michael Hankin, Esq., Ditto Mr. Hulme, Leadenhall Market I, J. Mr. Robert Ind, Cambridge Mrs. James, Cambridge Rev. Dr. Jowett, Trinity Hall Rev. J. Jackson, St. John's College Rev. George Jenyns, Prebendary of Ely Hey. M. W. Jones, St. John's College Mr. Jones, Emmanuel ditto Rev. Dr. Jobson, Vicar of Wisbeach Hugh Jackson, Esq., Wisbeach William James, Esq. J. P. Judd, Esq., Birchanger Mrs. Johns, Dunmow, Essex Mrs. Juggings, Ditto K. Right Hon. the Lord Kenyon Right Hon. the Lady Kenyon Rev. Dr. Kipling, Dean of Peterborough Rev. George King, Prebendary of Ely Rev. J. Kaye, Christ's College Rev. Mr. Kerrich, Cambridge Mr. Koymans, London L. Rev. Dr. Lloyd, Hebrew Professor, Trin. Coll. Rev. Mr. Lambert, Trinity College Edwards Lunn, Esq., Cambridge John Lindsell, Esq., St. Ives Lionel Lukin, Esq., Bexley, Kent William Lukin, Esq., Dunmow Robert Lakin, junior, Esq., War Office C. Lukin, Esq., Ditto Mr. Leete, Westminster Rev. William Leworthy, Harston Samuel Leightenhouse, Esq., Orford House Mrs. William Levin, Clapham Rev. Dr. Luscombe, Hertford M. Rev. Dr. Milner, Master of Queen's College Rev. Dr. Marsh, Lady Margaret Professor Rev. Dr. Myddleton, Gwaynynog, Denbighshire Rev. J. H. Michell, Buckland Rev. J. Maul, Christ's College General Manners, M.P. 2 J. Mortlock, Esq., Abingdon Hall Mrs. Mortlock, Ditto J. C. Mortlock, Esq., Cambridge Mrs. J. C. Mortlock, Ditto T. Mortlock, Esq., St. John's College Rev. Edmund Mortlock, Christ's ditto F. C. Mortlock, Esq., Cambridge Mr. John Marshall, Ditto Mr. Henry Marshall, Ditto Mr. John Marshall, Surgeon, 12, Half Moon Street, Piccadilly Right Hon. Lord Massy, Trinity College Rev. W. H. Markby, Benet College Rev. George Millers, Minor Canon, Ely Rev. William Metcalfe, Minor Canon, Ely Mr. John Medlicott, Cambridge N. Sir Charles Nightingale, Bart., Kneedsworth Alderman Newling, Cambridge Mr. Nicholson, Cambridge Miss Newman, Stanstead, Essex Henry James Nicholls, Esq., Isle of Ely Martin Nockolds, Esq., Tring, Herts Mrs. Nonman, Mistley, Essex O. Rev. Mr. Oldershaw, Archdeacon of Norfolk Rev. Holt Okes, Linton Rev. George Owen, Archdeacon of Middlesex Thomas Orlon, Esq., March, Isle of Ely P. Lord Viscount Palmerston Rev. Dr. Pearce, Master of Jesus College Rev. Dr. Proctor, Master of Catherine Hall Rev. W. A. Pemberton, 2, Emmanuel College Mr. Preston, Ditto William Plumer, Esq. M.P., Herts C. Pemberton, Esq., Cambridge John Pasheller, Esq., Banker, Huntingdon Mrs. Pearson, Dunmow R. Her Grace the Duchess Dowager of Rutland His Grace the Duke of Rutland, 5 Rev. Dr. Ramsden, Trinity College Rev. J. Rose, Ditto Rev. J. H. Renouard, Ditto Rev. R. Roberts, Mitcham Captain Rees J. Robinson, Esq. jun., Trinity College John Rich, Esq., St. John's College William Reed, Esq., Bedfont, Middlesex William Rayner, Esq., Wisbeach Mrs. Rayner, Ditto Charles Rich, Esq., Ratcliffe Cross Mrs. Roberts, Manuden, Essex George Rush, Esq., Elsenham Benjamin Rooke, Esq., Solicitor, Hertford S. Rev. Dr. Sumner, Provost of King's College Rev. Mr. Slade, Emmanuel College Rev. Charles Simeon, King's ditto William Smyth, Esq., Peter House, Professor of Modern History F. Simpson, Esq., Jesus College Benjamin Sheppard, Esq., King's ditto Mr. Scott, Emmanuel College Mr. Serjeant Sellon Thomas Spooner, Esq., Ely Hon. J. H. Smyth, M. P. for the University Lord Bishop of Salisbury Hon. Mr. Smith, Christ's College Robert Smirke, Esq. 4, Berners Street Hon. Mr. Stuart, Christ's College Thomas Skieles, Esq., Chatteris George Simpson, Esq., London Mr. Steward, Dean's Yard, Westminster James Searle, Esq. jun., Banker, Walden Rev. James Stokes, Birchanger Rev. F. Stanley, Stadham, Herts Robert Salmon, Esq., Beaumont Hall, Essex Mrs. James Salmon, Oakley Lodge, Essex Mrs. James Salmon, Beaumont, Essex T. Sir Thomas Turton, Bart. Lady Turton Rev. Dr. Turner, Master of Pembroke Hall, and Dean of Norwich Rev. R. Tatham, St. John's College F. Thackeray, Esq., Cambridge Miss Turner, Ditto Rev. George Frederic Tavell, Lower Brook Street Mr. D. Trott, Kennington Oval Mr. W. Thurnall, Whittlesford Henry Taylor, Esq., St. John's College G. Townley, Esq., Fulbourn, Cambridgeshire U. —— Unthank, Esq., Norwich Lieutenant Colonel Udney, Birchanger W. Sir William Wynne, Bart., Master of Trinity Hall Rev. Dr. Waddington, Prebendary of Ely Rev. Mr Watkinson, Emmanuel College Rev. W. B. Whitfield, St. John's College Rev. J. Wood, St. John's ditto Rev. J. Walker, Trinity Hall Rev. H. Wiles, Trinity College J. D. Woodhouse, M. D., Caius College Rev. W. F. Wilkinson, Norwich Mrs. Wilkinson, Ditto Miss Wilkinson, Ditto Mr. Welch, Surgeon, Stanstead, Essex Mrs. Whittingstall, Hertford J. B. Wiles, Esq., Chesterton P. Wedd, Esq., Cambridge P. Wilkinson, Esq., Trinity Hall William Wilkins, Esq., Cambridge Mr. Thomas Watson, Cambridge Mrs. Wells, Peterborough Charles Warner, Esq., Eye, Huntingdonshire Colonel Watson, Wisbeach Mrs. Wilkinson, Larkhall Lane, Clapham Neh. Winter, Stanstead, Essex Mrs. L. Woolery, Ditto Rev. Dr. Ward, Prebendary of Ely George Whittingstall, Esq., Watford, Herts Y. Rev. T. Young, Trinity College Mrs. Anne Yorke, Cambridge Miss Yates, Paradise Row, Lambeth Right Hon. Charles Yorke, M.P. THERIVAL ROSES; &c. &c. CANTO FIRST. I. LOUD, o'er the turrets of Glenmore, The spirits of the tempest roar; With ardent ire, Set ether in a blaze; Swiftly urge the lightning's fire, And dart along its quivering rays. II. Upon her couch, reclined, Sate Glenmore's haughty dame, Unheard, by her, the whistling wind; Unseen the lightning's flame; Unmarked the thunder's deep'ning roll; For England's woes absorbed her soul. III. Fierce discord stalked throughout the land, And tossed aloft her fiery brand; Horror, with tresses dipped in gore, Bade shrieks resound from shore to shore; And faction, versed in fraudful guile, Bade patriot blood, fair Albion's fields, defile. IV. Not then, as in this happier day, Did England own a BRUNSWICK'S sway: Then flourished fair the 'Rose of snow,' Triumphant o'er its ruddy foe; And hapless HENRY mourned the fate, That, o'er him, cast the robe of state, And placed, within his feeble hand, The sceptre of a mighty land. If lowly born, had HENRY been, No woes had gloomed his closing scene; Contented he had trod the plain, An artless, happy, rural swain: Or heaven been pleased that he should dwell, The inmate of a holy cell, Serenely then his days had roll'd, His fame had vied with saints of old; For gentle, pious, just, and kind, To worldly interest only blind, As priest or shepherd he had shone; But wanted powers to guard a throne. V. Musing o'er HENRY'S fallen fate, And dropping oft the pensive tear, The dame of Glenmore castle sate, Now pressed with anguish, and now moved with fear; While ISADORE, a maid of matchless grace, With dazzled eyes beheld th'illumined space. VI. Sprung from no vulgar race she seem'd, Tho' mystery's veil upon her birth was thrown, From her bright form, what grace ethereal gleam'd! What countless beauties, to herself unknown! While, in the azure of her lucid eye, Unnumber'd charms in secret ambush lie. VII. Sudden she starts, for, stealing on the gale, A harp now flings its magic on her ear; Then o'er the sound the rising gusts prevail; The blasts subside, and lo! the harp is near: Fair ISADORE, in mute attention, stands, And the soft strain her inmost soul commands. VIII. Echoes unusual float around; Laughter fills the vaulted hall; The harp pours forth a merry sound, And dancing footsteps nimbly fall; With peals of mirth, the tones they drown. The lady, with an angry frown, Summoned straight her vassal crew, To learn whence their rude mirth they drew. IX. And why, she cried, does mirth invade This ancient castle's solemn shade? "Pardon, great lady," BERTRAM cried, "'Tis long since joy here held his reign: By chance a minstrel youth I 'spied, Wand'ring benighted on the plain; Pity then touched my aged breast, I hailed, and bade him here to rest; Then, as he lightly swept the strings, The hall with echoing music rings: Ah! lady, let him here abide, Lest ill, this night, the youth betide." X. "BERTRAM, 'tis well!" the lady said, And slowly raised her drooping head, "But haste, and hither lead the boy, Who, in this castle, dared presume To bid th'unhallowed note of joy Echo thro' the solemn gloom." XI. He comes! "art thou," the Countess cries, "The minstrel youth, whose touch profane, Bade, from the lyre, those sounds arise, And waked the mirth-inspiring strain?" She paused; the youth, with graceful air, Bowed low to Glenmore's stately fair— While ISADORE, in pleased amaze, Regards the youth with fixed surprize; Then turning from his ardent gaze, Casts on the ground her modest eyes, And feels her heart responsive thrill,. To his sweet harp's melodious trill; Well could his touch the strain prolong: And thus arose the minstrel's song. Melody. Ye tales of love, that from my lyre, Were wont to flow in softest measure, For you no more the strings respire, Nor wake they now to notes of pleasure. Resounding thro' th'affrighted isle, The clang of war is heard alone, Each hill and vale, and massy pile, Re-echoes still the martial tone. Ah! marked ye where the battling host Together clashed with thundering jar, When many a chief with haughty boast, Led on his vassal train from far? 'Twas then, upon Northampton's field, Many a gallant warrior died, Each flashed on high his burnished shield, And boldly each his foe defied. I saw, amidst the blaze of day, The hosts advancing to the fight, Elate they marched in trim array, Lordly chief, and 'squire, and knight. I passed the spot when night and gloom And fearful silence reign'd around, Chief, 'squire, and knight had met their doom, And slept the sleep of death profound. Mourn, Britain, mourn thy nobles slain, Thy monarch's fallen fate deplore, Within his tent a captive ta'en, Nor throne nor sceptre owns he more. The red rose fades, the snowy foe, With the bright blush of conquest glows, Lancastrian HENRY sinks in woe, For victory crowns the rival rose. XII. The cadence soft, the grander swell, Evinced a master's power to please, The Countess praised his matchless skill, His volant touch, or flowing ease Said he might in her castle dwell, And bide, or leave at his free will. XIII. "Lady, that boon is great indeed; Accept my thanks," he then replied, "Yet in three days I hence must speed, Nor longer in these towers abide." "Your pleasure use," the dame returned; "But stay, thy history unfold— Dost thou a minstrel's life pursue? Thy mien becomes a hero bold; Thy valor is thy country's due, Why is the warrior's laurel spurn'd?" XIV. "Lady, my history would'st thou know, Suffice, I am the child of woe; For me, alas, no laurels bloom, Misfortune, only, is my doom." The fire that lighted up his eye, The blaze of genius, sank before despair, From his pale cheek the roseate graces fly, Immersed in thought, he stood, a statue fair, So fixed, immoveable, and mute his air. XV. The lady marked his musing mood, She sighing viewed him as he stood; Once only had she known before A face so sweet, a form so fine; While the bewildered ISADORE, But that the oft repeated sigh, The pallid cheek and fading eye, Were emblems of mortality, Had fancied him of race divine. XVI. Opprest with dangerous sympathy, The maiden heaved a pitying sigh, Which re-illum'd the minstrel fire. The sweet musician wakened from his trance, Snatched to his hand his sleeping lyre; On ISADORE he cast a glance, Whose kindling ardor seemed to say, Pity, with love I will repay. XVII. The harp respired, and soft, and slow, The sounding chords, the rising notes, Sweetly prolonged, with strong impressive flow; The Virgin's hymn in lofty echoes floats, And gives each breast a warmer, holier glow; When softly died the solemn sound, He graceful made obeisance round; But lingering, looked a fond adieu, And then receded from their view. XVIII. The elemental war no more Raged o'er the time-moss'd towers, The spirits' furious ire was o'er, And hushed their angry powers. Emerging from a sable cloud, The night's pale empress now arose, And cast her beams on Glenmore's gloomy pile. Nature around seemed wrapt in calm repose, Yet slept not Glenmore's lady proud, Yet fled from ISADORE, sweet sleep awhile. XIX. Why sleeps not the haughty dame? Why do her feet so often trace Her lofty chamber's ample space? Alas! her frequent start, her feverish glow, Her tears, too sure the tears of woe, Her heart, a prey to grief, proclaim. XX. And why does sleep forsake those eyes His feathery pinion wont to shade? Say why on sable wing he flies, From Glenmore's fair and matchless maid? The latent cause I must declare, 'Twas love had gain'd an influence there. XXI. Still on the maiden's raptured ear, The minstrel's accents murmuring stole; The minstrel's glance, to memory dear, Still shot its radiance o'er her soul; His graceful form and tuneful art, Might well, deep interest impart. XXII. At length descends night's argent queen Behind the English Apennine, And ISADORE then sought repose; Still, in the vision of the night, Array'd in fancy's radiant vest, In every charm of beauty drest, With more than mortal graces bright, The minstrel's shadowy form arose. XXIII. Two days had winged their rapid flight, The next, when dawned the morning light, From Glenmore would the minstrel go; And not the dame's kind courtesy, Nor ISADORE'S intreating eye, Could stay this son of mystery, This cloud-wrapt 'child of woe.' XXIV. ARMYN, the doubtful stranger's name; In truth he was a gallant wight, So brave his mien, the pensive dame, Oft fancied him a wandering knight, That, in disguise, thus sought to know Who to his party was friend or foe. XXV. The choice retreat of ISADORE, Was an old and mould'ring tower; In rude heaps, rough fragments lay, And broken columns strewed the way; While rapid Derwent's dashing wave, Reflected, in his silver tide, The pile his waters loved to lave, With antique arches' ruined pride. XXVI. Reclining on a pedestal That once a war-plumed statue bore, Seeming to mark the river's swell, Or gaze upon th' indented shore, With musing air the maiden stood; Yet thought she not of Derwent's flood, Nor mark'd his winding bank so green: Its varied beauties were unseen. XXVII. Her radiant locks of waving gold, Floated upon the buoyant gale, Which first displac'd the graceful fold, Then wafted off her light-wove veil; No friendly shade remain'd to hide Of joy and love, the vermeil tide, When ARMYN'S graceful form she spied. XXVIII. He view'd her o'er with kindling eye, Then eager spoke with ardor high; "What secret cause, oh, maid divine! Could make that orient blush arise? And whence the brilliant beams that shine, Within those ever-charming eyes? 'Twas not disdain, say was it joy? My fears relieve or hopes destroy." XXIX. Confus'd, surpris'd, the youthful fair Blush'd as his tale of love he told; No more he wore a brow of care, A brighter future seem'd unroll'd; For all deceit, all art above, The blooming maiden own'd her love. XXX. Then ARMYN vowed, "thy rolling tide, Oh, rapid Derwent, flows away; And yonder tower's stately pride, Now sinks in ruinous decay; But, oh, my love shall firmly stem The tide of ill, or stream of woe, And, as yon watchlight's fluttering flame, Thro' life's long day shall brightly glow." XXXI. And ne'er will absence have the power To make my love for thee decay; Yet, oh, dear, beauteous ISADORE, No more at Glenmore can I stay: To-morrow I must hence"—the maid Averted then her tear-dewed face; He soothed her fears, and hushed her grief, Breathed hopes that time would bring relief, And clasped her in a fond embrace. XXXII. With blushes, bursting from his arms, She bade a hasty, sweet farewell, Then, with a sigh, that seemed to tell, All love's regrets, and fond alarms, As shoots a silver star its ray, When darting thro' the sky, Its falling glories glancing play; From the rapt Minstrel's gazing eye, The beauteous maiden fled away: Her lover sped at dawn of day. CANTO SECOND. I. THE harp's sweet sound, that lately broke The silence of old Glenmore's towers, No more in pleasing strains awoke Long dormant echo's mimic powers: But all a stiller horror wore, More solemn seemed the silent gloom; That radiant flash but shewed the more How dismal was that living tomb: For, as the lightning's sudden flame, Dazzling and bright, the minstrel came, And, as that flame recedes, anon, Th' enchanting minstrel soon was gone. Yes, he was gone! and not a trace Bore record of young ARMYN there, Yet all remembered ARMYN'S grace And wished again his harp to hear. II. And often by the Derwent's flood, Fair ISADORE would weep and sigh: 'Twas on that spot the minstrel stood, When last he met the maiden's eye; 'Twas there he vowed for aye to love, 'Twas there she did his suit approve. The Countess saw the fair one grieve, And wished she could her woes relieve, For she had marked their mutual flame, And pitied, what she could not blame. III. She sought the maid, and gently led To where a fragment formed her seat "I too," she cried, "have inly bled, And shed sad tears in this retreat; Oh, ISADORE, by nature framed For all that's gentle, good, and fair, I feel affection by thee claimed, And will my early life declare," The maiden cast a wondering gaze, Delighted at the novel praise, And much she longed to hear the tale, Which to her mind should then unveil Those many sorrows, griefs, and woes, That had disturbed the dame's repose. IV.The Lady's Story. Gayly and featly in Raby's towers, Music inspired the sprightly dance; Not then enslaved by jarring powers, Compatriots darted hostile glance. No! all was happiness and peace, Oh! days of transport, and of love, When will your dear remembrance cease! Ne'er, till I reach yon world above! V. MONTORRAN graceful, led the ball, Myself his partner in the hall: Each maiden was with envy moved, For none like GERTRUDE then was loved, But one alone, by passion fired, To poison bliss like ours desired, 'Twas cruel CLIFFORD'S sister vain, Who sought MONTORRAN'S love to gain. VI. The daughters of the the NEVILLE race, Adorned the scene with matchless grace, Sweet ELLEN, PERCY'S gentle fair, And beauteous CICELY were there, With noble DACRE'S lovely dame, Who knew DE CLIFFORD'S envious aim; They marked her soft insidious snare, The downcast glance, and gentle sigh; They saw her ever-watchful care, T' attract MONTORRAN'S brilliant eye. VII. They told me of her luring wiles, And feared the fair might work me woe: Lost on MONTORRAN were her smiles, And I, secure, contemn'd my foe: But oft, when least an ill we dread, The deadliest woes around us spread: My sire to Raby's turrets came, Then, famed in war, was FITZHUGH'S name: At Agincourt, he bravely fought, And many a gallant deed he wrought; And all his actions, plainly told, How well he lov'd his Monarch bold. Still loyal to brave HENRY'S line, In arms FITZHUGH was seen to shine. The triumph of Crevant he shar'd, And at Verneul the foe he dar'd; A braver, than my noble sire, Fierce valor's flame could ne'er inspire. This tribute, from his child, is due To th' mem'ry of the great FITZHUGH. VIII. With him there came, ah! woe to me! The haughty chief of GLENMORE'S line; A knight, renown'd in arms, was he, No grace he own'd, no manners fine; Rude, rough, impetuous, daring, bold, He scorn'd each gentler courtesy; He vaunted oft his heart was cold, And ever, ever, would be free. IX. 'Twas my hard fate t' unloose the ice, That his cold frozen bosom bound; And I with wonder and surprize, Glenmore's proud lord, my suitor, found. Blest in MONTORRAN'S ardent love, With youth and beauty proudly gay, By high disdain I sought to prove, I little reck'd my new-born sway, Vindictive fury's smothered flame, In GLENMORE'S stormy bosom raged, He knew MONTORRAN'S prior claim, He saw our plighted love engaged: Yet meditated, o'er the bowl, To feast the rancor of his soul. X. The banquet reign'd, gay pleasure smil'd, And mirth the midnight hour beguil'd, When GLENMORE, with a moody frown, Thus sought, our rising mirth, to drown; For well he knew the monarch's name, Would waken rancor's dormant flame. "Health to our king," he loudly cried, "Long may he live the nation's pride; Yet much I fear, and grieve to say, He will not long the sceptre sway; He's sinking to an early grave, To public cares, he dies, a slave." "And think you then the land will sigh When HENRY'S spirit seeks the sky? If well we search the kingdom round, Than him, an abler, may be found!" York thus replied, nor touch'd the glass; Unhonor'd did the goblet pass. XI. "Oh! rest his soul," MONTORRAN cried, "Much he belies his valiant sire; Oh where is MONMOUTH'S gallant pride, Or his more youthful frolic fire?" MONTORRAN first the goblet prest, And pass'd it on, with sportive glee; Myself he gaily then addrest, "Oh! drink success to love and me, Pledge not yon earl;"—from OSWALD'S hand, The fatal glass I, blushing, took, With answering smile, and action bland; When GLENMORE, with a furious look, The half-rais'd goblet dash'd away: The red streams, o'er my garments, stray. XII. "No! no! proud maid!" said Glenmore's earl, A draught, so sweet, shall ne'er be thine! MONTORRAN'S lip, disdainful girl! To nectar, chang'd, the ruby wine, While I may hopelessly adore And GERTRUDE'S love, in vain, implore; Her favor, ne'er must hope, t'enjoy, And still be slighted for a boy. XIII. The indignation he inspir'd, Glanc'd from brave WARWICK'S flashing eye, And thus, with generous ardor, fir'd, NEVIL return'd him answer high. "And is it so, thou warrior fierce, That thou a maiden's heart would'st pierce? Wherefore dost thou, in Raby's hall, Disturb our mirth with ill-timed brawl? For this rash conduct, GLENMORE, know, WARWICK henceforward is thy foe." XIV. On lov'd MONTORRAN'S hand I hung, To him I shudd'ring, sorrowing clung; With lofty air and frowning brow, He forth his glittering weapon drew, I shriek'd "oh! OSWALD hear me now, Let not his blood thy hands imbrue, Nor e'er, for me, contention vain, Fair Raby's peaceful walls distain. "GERTRUDE!" he cried, "thy sweet controul, Has often, from thy OSWALD'S soul, Chased passion's heat, and sorrow's sigh; But now must soft remembrance fly; Thy OSWALD now, can only feel, (And vengeance fierce my nerves shall steel), That thou my peerless love art wrong'd, And to myself revenge is due—" "No more be vows and sighs prolong'd, For GERTRUDE'S hand in vain thou'lt sue." Lord FITZHUGH this his will declar'd, While GLENMORE'S visage grimly glar'd. XV. "With life alone will I resign The fair whose love and vows are mine!" My OSWALD said; Lord FITZHUGH cried, "GERTRUDE! thou art thy father's pride, But, dare MONTORRAN 'gain to see, Thy father's curse attend on thee!" O'ercome with woe, and new alarms, I fainted in MONTORRAN'S arms. Now, in that hall, where lately bloom'd Mirth, peace, and pleasure, love, and joy, Those gentle powers were soon entombed, By demons who their reign destroy. XVI. Rancor, and hate, discord and rage, Began their loud-ton'd war to wage; With steadfast air and dauntless-mien, MONTORRAN still my form sustains, Re-animation faintly seen, Steals softly thro' my fear-chill'd veins. "GERTRUDE!" he cried, "hence let us fly, With thee I'll live, for thee I'd die." His waving sword on high was gleaming, And on his brow his plum'd-helm beaming, With me, his prize, uncheck'd by all, He swiftly left the fatal hall. Fix'd in amaze the chieftains stand: For wonder seiz'd the warlike band. XVII. Each court now cross'd, each barrier past, One look on Raby's walls I cast; To friendship gave a ling'ring sigh, And filial tears suffus'd mine eye. With haste, out-stripping far the wind, Soon Raby's towers we left behind; Nor did MONTORRAN'S speed give o'er, Until we reach'd the ocean's shore. For Gallia's coast, a vessel bound, For favoring breezes waits, The wind is fair, a welcome sound, Soon echoes from her joyous mates. We join the vessel's gallant crew, Before brisk gales, soon o'er the main, The bark swift-sailing, lightly flew, And Gallia's land we quickly gain. XVIII. Behold me now MONTORRAN'S bride; By him lov'd, caress'd, ador'd; Yet oft I trembled, wept, and sigh'd, For fear of GLENMORE'S vengeful sword, And still Lord FITZHUGH'S threat'ning vow, Rang in my tortur'd ear; Nor are forgotten, even now, Those words I almost died to hear. Where myrtles form an od'rous shade Waving o'er Durance' azure tide, To calm my anxious heart I stray'd. Seldom I left my OSWALD'S side, But, could I bear to wound his heart, With sorrow's agonizing dart, And unavailing grief? I hoped that sighs and tears of woe, Indulg'd in sad luxurious flow, Would give my o'er-fraught mind relief. XIX. An infant boy increased my care, I feared he was misfortune's heir; My mind, with pining anguish, fraught, Whither I stray'd I heeded nought; My streaming eyes, to heaven, I raise, And, worn with sorrow, heave a groan. "Who thus her wretchedness betrays, And with her sighs disturbs my own?" A voice demands: and straight appears, A hoary sire, whose brilliant eyes, Belie his seeming load of years; I questioned him with wild surprise. "Whence art thou, venerable sage, Oh! say, what woes oppress thine age?" XX. "Oh! rather, lovely lady, say What griefs obscure thy early day; That thou, a dame so young and fair, Should'st wander thus in lone despair?" Before my lips could form reply, My guardian OSWALD near me stood, "GERTRUDE," he said, "there's danger nigh," The stranger darted in the wood. "My child!" I cried, "with MANFRED he, My wife, my love, hence let us flee!" XXI. "Oh! ISADORE, tho' now I hide, Beneath the haughty brow of pride Of grief and woe, the bitter smart, And all that stabs a breaking heart, My mind, in vain, I strive to steel, I'm doom'd to mourn, and doom'd to weep, For all who car'd for GERTRUDE'S weal, Now, mould'ring in the cold tomb, sleep."— "Not all!" with tear and pitying sigh, Was then the gentle maid's reply, "Oh! surely, Lady GLENMORE knows, That ISADORE partakes her woes"— ''Enough, dear girl! I now relate, The sad remainder of my fate. XXII. "While night, her dews, around us, shed, Along the Durance' banks we sped, MONTORRAN quickly hurried on, To gain the town of Avignon; There was his trusty 'squire to stay, And thence attend us on our way. Oh, night of terror and despair! Nor MANFRED, nor the babe were there; And live I now, to tell it thee! My child again I ne'er did see;— My OSWALD"— fearfully she starts, And all her cold reserve assumes; Her eye a look of meaning darts: The maiden with an anxious glance, Seeks what can cause The sudden pause; And views, reclining on his lance, A steel-clad knight; whose sable plumes, Deepened the terrors of his frowning brow, And made his giant height, still more gigantic show. XXIII. "Is there no word of kindness meet, For noble dame, her lord to greet?" Said GLENMORE'S earl, for he it was Who thus, unwish'd for, on their converse stole; His mien betray'd how far the gentle laws Of soft'ning courtesy, from his unyielding soul. Since last Lord GLENMORE, thou wast here, Has pass'd a period long and drear, Nor deem'd I that thou wert so near; But may thy wretched wife demand, Why now thou com'st to Glenmore's towers?" "It is," he said, "because the land, Again is torn by hostile powers. EDWARD, YORK'S impetuous heir, Threatens this castle to invade; But if the enterprize he dare, He'll rue this trusty blade. Now, will thy sad and tearful eye, A lasting spring of grief supply; And thou wilt bid me blindly dream, For HENRY'S woes thy tears still stream, Thine earlier cares forgotten quite, MONTORRAN, or—the minstrel wight." XXIV. With grin demoniac, her lord Gave to the dame such taunting word; Quick to her cheek indignant came, Of virtuous ire the burning blush; Not hers the guilty hue of shame, Nor hers confusion's hectic flush, Still, in proud silence, walked she on, And, to her lord, deigned answer none. XXV. 'Ere long, December's cheerless sky, Each prospect that once pleas'd the eye Enwrapt in glooms horrific stole, And shed its terrors o'er the whole. The distant hills, array'd in snow, Reflect no more a sunny glow; And Derwent's undulating tide, Ice-fetter'd, could no longer glide, Old Glenmore's moss-clad cloisters, round, And wake their echoes with his sound. No; all was silent, sad, and still, On Derwent's bank, and western hill; But ne'er did Glenmore's lofty halls, Resound with such sonorous clang, For ever, in their ancient walls, Armour clank'd, and war-note rang. The chieftain fierce prepared his band, For warfare drenched the bleeding land; Each warlike lord, his sword unsheathed, And here a bold defiance breathed 'Gainst YORK, meek HENRY'S rival brave: And red-ros'd pennons proudly wave. XXVI. The Countess and her youthful friend, Would oft the battlements ascend, To mark the scene so drear and white, Spread before their dazzled sight. Thither would they oft repair, Spite of keen gale, and chilling air; For though around, the view was drear, And winds blew piercing cold, That prospect sad, was far more dear, To heart in misery grown old, Than all the radiant lovely glow, That summer's brilliant suns bestow. Tho' sharp and bitter was the gale, The lady wooed its rough caress; Oft would she weep, and oft bewail, Still would her feet the rampart press; And often Boreas' sullen moan, Bore concert with her sorrowing groan. XXVII. And ISADORE, whose glowing mind, With youthful ardor warm, Was not, to thought of ill, confin'd, As little reck'd the wintry storm. Still would she fondly oft retrace The hours, when first the minstrel's lyre, Awakened with seraphic grace, Feeling's throb, and rapture's fire. Tho' wide upon th' extended plain, Stern winter spread his chilling reign, In her warm breast remembrance glow'd; And tho' from the frozen rill, No more the bubbling streams distil, Yet, in her heart, love's warmest current flow'd. XXVIII. But starting from her reverie She half with terror sinks, to view Approaching near, a hostile band, With gesture high, and sword in hand; Their port is noble, daring, free, Their course to Glenmore castle due. Loudly echoing, near and far, Resounds the dreadful din of war; In vain Lord GLENMORE'S bands oppose, The entrance of the hostile Rose. They soon the castle walls surprise; Columns of smoke, to heaven, ascend, While flames, in wavy wreaths, arise, And all in dread confusion blend. XXIX. The Countess and the damsel fair, Some way t' escape at length prepare; But all precaution found they vain, Both, by the victor, captive ta'en. To Sandale was the dame convey'd; But MARCHE with youth's impetuous fire, Declared that his should be the maid; In her he centered each desire, Ruins now cover'd Glenmore's scite, Gone was its chieftain to the tomb, For LANCASTER he dared his doom, And rushed to realms of night. CANTO THIRD. I. HOW sighs the muse to tune the lay, Fair Albion's woes to sing, The strings their sadden'd homage pay, And mournful music fling. Ye guardian Genii of the land, Ah whither were ye flown, When woe encompass'd Britain's throne, And hovered on her strand. Then anarchy, with power malign, Burst each social knot in twain, Brought to light each dread design, And bade discordant fury reign. The hand that once, in friendly grasp, Was wont a brother's hand to clasp, Against that brother's life was raised: And eyes, with deadly fury, blazed, That once, with fond affection's gleam, On kindred dear were wont to beam. The winds that murmured o'er the plain, With dying groans were fraught When stilly night assumed her reign, By fearful horrors wrought: For cultur'd field, and dreary heath, Were scenes alike of blood and death. II. To Sandale's towers a pris'ner led, Was Glenmore's lady high, For England's woes her bosom bled, But for herself she heav'd no sigh. Grief on her fair, but faded form, Had shed her various store of woes; Her cheeks, no more, with healthful current, warm, Seem'd ensigns of the paler rose. In Sandale's walls, YORK'S noble dame, The boast of NEVILLE'S haughty line, Then dwelt; she little cared for fame, Nor wished, in courtly halls, to shine. Yet once, in youthful beauty, bright, She charm'd each young and gallant knight: At HENRY'S court, each fair above, She shone the leading star of love! But youth was fled, and with its fire, Had vanished every gay desire; To pomp or pageant, she'd not roam, But centered all her bliss in home. III. When Sandale's gates were heard to close, The lady's fortitude arose; She steel'd her heart to bear each woe, That pride on misery could bestow. And she resolved, with life, to part, 'Ere cruelty's ingenious art, Should wring one murmur from her heart. She knew not that her early friend, Her prison'd footsteps would attend; She little thought she still should find, The noble dame, so good, so kind; Or that, upon her gentle breast, Her aching head might sink to rest. But when Sandale's dame she viewed, Remembrance, friendship's tie renewed, She spake, and GERTRUDE sank subdued. IV. When sense return'd, illum'd her eyes, The Duchess echoed those sad sighs, That from the Countess' bosom rose; Then sweetly sought to sooth her woes. "And is it thus, lov'd friend, we meet, Must no glad welcome, from me, greet One, who so oft has been the theme, Of anxious thought's ne'er stagnant stream? Yet I will strive thy lot to cheer, Think too, perhaps, relief is near; For HENRY'S Queen has seized the sword, And summoned many a warlike horde." "Friend of my youth, the dame returned, From me, such baseness, far, be spurned: How could that rescue give me joy, Which would thy proudest hopes destroy!" V. Friendship's soft balm of healing power, Poured influence sweet, upon that hour; And confidence and sympathy, More closely drew their gentle tie: Requested by her friend to tell, Each strange event that her befel, Since the well remembered night, She with MONTORRAN winged her flight; The Countess, with a woe-fraught mind, To CICELY'S listening ear conveyed, Each grief, it was her lot, to find, Since she, from Raby's walls, had flown; Her secret feelings she displayed, And each event made known. Again retraced those distant years, Partaking both of joys and fears, She in Provence had past; Again she told what pangs assailed, When tidings of her infant failed: Nor were those pangs the last, This lovely victim had endured, From duty's path, by love allured; Misfortune still, the fair pursued; Her history thence, she thus renew'd. CONTINUATIONOFThe Lady's Story.VI. Oh, CICELY! I need not tell, To thee, what then my feelings were: To peace, to joy, I bade farewell, A wand'ring image of despair! Amidst Vaucluse' embow'ring grove, That famed retreat of hapless love, By that pellucid fountain's side, Where PETRARCH, for his LAURA, mourned, With frenzied step, I frantic hied, To seek for peace which fate denied, And echo's voice, my woes returned. But time, and loved MONTORRAN'S zeal, Who lived, but for his GERTRUDE'S weal, Some comfort, to my heart, restored, For each the other still adored. VII. One secret locked, within his breast, I from MONTORRAN could not wrest; He never would, to me disclose, Whence our hasty flight arose, From the loved Durance' winding shore, Remembered, yet tho' viewed, no more. But now—ah, yes! the dreadful scene, Still rises to my aching sight; I still behold that murd'rous mien, And the dire horrors of that night. My OSWALD'S kindness to requite, I strove, tho' painful 't was, to smile, And he, all rapturous delight, Rejoiced he could my grief beguile. 'My love, my GERTRUDE, whence so pale?' With anxious haste, he cried. Ah! me, what fears did then assail, As pointing to the stream, I said, "I saw, reflected in the tide, A warrior's crested head!" Around, he threw his piercing eye, But nought of foe-man could espy; When a slight rustling met my ear, I caught the gleaming of a spear. Ah! not in combat with the brave, My OSWALD met his early grave; An arrow, from a hidden bow, Laid the great MONTORRAN low: These arms, his sinking form, received, And gently, on the green turf, laid; Almost, I was, of sense bereaved, Upon my bosom leant his head; He strove some soothing words to say; In haste, I from the neighb'ring spring, Bethought a friendly aid to bring, That might his flutt'ring spirit stay. VIII. I stooped to catch the cooling wave, A steel-clad arm was round me cast; I shrieked—MONTORRAN could not save: Ah! then my OSWALD breathed his last. My senses fled—when next I owned Returning reason's glimmering ray, Ah! sure my errors were atoned, By what I suffer'd on that day. MONTORRAN! first, I feebly cried, But no one to my voice replied. By slow degrees my memory drew The harrowing picture to my view, And painted the sad past anew. With gorgon terrors on his brow, Lord GLENMORE stood my couch beside; "Now mine will be thy plighted vow," In joy's exulting tone he cried. "MONTORRAN'S loss I'll mourn for ever: Thine, my plighted vow?—oh, never!!" I so return'd his vaunting pride. "We soon shall see, thou haughty dame, If sweet revenge I do not claim, For all the slights, and cruel scorn, That erst from thee, proud fair, I've borne," He grimly smiled, as thus he spake; But I no more would silence break, Until my rigid sire I viewed, And unto him for pity sued. His heart, against his child, was steeled: By power parental forc'd to yield, What more of ill could fate bestow, What direr grief betide? That hour completed every woe, That hour beheld me GLENMORE'S bride. IX. What triumph flashed from GLENMORE'S eye, When, sinking in the western sky, The sun emitted his last ray, And night's dun shades invaded day. Thither reluctant, shuddering, led, The nuptial room I trembling tread; I searched, with scrutinizing eye, In hopes some means I yet might 'spy, T' escape my dreadful destiny. A sword against the wall was hung, With sudden thought to it I sprung; I dried each tear, suppress'd each sigh, For oh! my daring purpose high, Had filled my soul with energy. The bridegroom came, with pride elate, I straight unsheathed the glittering blade; "Dare to approach, thou meet'st thy fate," With dauntless tone I said. "Lay that tremendous weapon by, It suits not with a lady fair;" He to my threat'ning made reply, And then advanc'd with wily care. His stronger arm my force o'ercame, When lo! a voice pronounced my name. "GERTRUDE!" it said, "thy fate beware; GLENMORE, if thou would'st live, forbear! Dar'st thou approach MONTORRAN'S wife, Thou whose base art depriv'd her lord of life! That moment, GLENMORE, thou shalt surely die, And thy dark soul, to nether regions fly." X. Then dimly visible in distant gloom, (The waning taper cast a wavering light,) Pale and terrific, recent from the tomb, MONTORRAN'S figure met my frenzied sight. Stiffened his limbs, his heart with fear appall'd, Stood Glenmore's lord in horror's fix'd dismay, My piercing shriek the flitting shade recall'd; Ah! stay, I cried, beloved immortal, stay! Oh! take me with thee, free my fainting soul, From the vile fetters of this cumb'rous clay; Despair and woe, now, o'er my senses, roll, Come lead me, lead me, to eternal day. Vainly I raved, then, sinking on the ground, I fell immersed in misery profound. Wild, desperate, horror-struck, Lord GLENMORE fled, From the dread presence of the injured dead. XI. But from that awe-creating hour, I heeded not my tyrant's pow'r; Altho' beneath his castle roof, From worldly converse held aloof; He but this earthly form confined, MONTORRAN still possessed my mind: And I no violence need dread, For, over GLENMORE'S guilty soul, The threat'ning sentence of the dead, Held irresistible controul. XII. My sire at length his curse repealed: Then, taking arms on HENRY'S side, Fell on St. Alban's bloody field: None now remain to me allied. "And yet, alas! I fear for one, Whose fate to me is now unknown, My worldly race is nearly run—" Just then the bugle's silver tone, The near approach of YORK declared; While fear and joy alternate meet, The dames, PLANTAGENET to greet, With trembling haste prepared. XIII. With hasty step and hurried air, He sought his anxious wife; She fear'd the woes of civil strife, Which mark'd her pensive brow with care. "Fear nought, for me, illustrious dame!" He said, in accents firm, but kind, "I yet may ANJOU'S spirit tame, I yet may check her haughty mind. For tow'ring on the battle plain, MARGARET, hapless HENRY'S bane, Her fatal errors to atone, Girds her with an iron zone, And dauntless draws her flashing sword, To guard her weak and powerless lord." XIV. Oh! happy Albion! blest, beyond compare, Think, grateful think, what blessings now you share! Tho' Discord, raging thro' a jarring world, Bids war's red banner yet remain unfurl'd; Still, in the precincts of this sea-girt isle, Domestic peace, and tranquil pleasures smile. But ah! nor smiling peace, nor pleasure bland, In days of yore, here held their grateful sway, Slaughter, triumphant, stalk'd throughout the land, Investing every breast with dire dismay. XV. See haughty MARGARET, her standard raise, Fair ANJOU'S arms the pond'rous faulchion wields, In glittering pomp, opposing patriots blaze, And sire and son, imbrue their native fields. Ah! wretched land, Each hostile band, Now rushes to the war. BELLONA in her brazen car, With furious zeal, each breast, inspires; Kindles ambition's madd'ning fires; Bids kindred blood, each sword distain; And thousands bleed upon th' ensanguined plain. XVI. Yet from amidst the dread intestine jar, Arose fair LIBERTY'S resplendent star, Far-beaming herald of the future day, When this famed land should own her blissful sway. 'Twas then her bright electric rays awoke Each patriot feeling, and, those fetters, broke, Which Tyranny, in robes of regal hue, Cast o'er the soul, to damp th' aspiring mind: The star of Freedom risen to their view, No more, in mean submission, madly blind; With pleas'd acclaim, they hailed the golden ray, And mighty virtues, rushed amain, to day. XVII. Then first, were fixed, the Senate's noblest laws, Then first, impartial, was the high debate; Meek HENRY'S virtues gained their due applause, But YORK was owned Protector of the State. For HENRY, lost in lethargy, Could not a monarch's care supply, Nor in HYGEIA'S brightest day, Did he those qualities display, Which vulgar admiration gain, And best the common love obtain. While YORK was valiant, prudent, bold, And high, his name, had fame enroll'd; For daring arm, and courage high, Ranked first, in days of chivalry. XVIII. 'Twas MARGARET, HENRY'S haughty wife, Who first provoked intestine strife; The passive HENRY, long she swayed, She spake her will, and was obeyed. The noble GLOUCESTER'S hapless fate, Might well each dark surmise create: While SUFFOLK'S crimes, and BEAUFORT'S art, Caused YORK t' assume an hostile part; Who, with contempt and anger fired, To England's monarchy aspired. Just were his claims; but ne'er his right, Had been the cause of deadly fight. Had but the royal HENRY been Unbias'd by his artful queen; Or MARGARET been content to share, With MORTIMER'S illustrious heir, The kingdom's trust, and regal care. XIX. But MARGARET'S high unbending soul, Had never yielded to controul. Hers, subtle art, and tow'ring mind, To conquer, not submit, inclin'd; And her's was every beauty too, That could the heart of man subdue. Her art and beauty ruled her royal lord, She frowned, he yielded, smiled, and he ador'd. XX. Soon MARGARET led her bright array, To where the plain of Wakefield lay. With fatal skill and taunting boast, She there arranged her adverse host; With cruel and insulting pride, She proudly, Sandall's lord defied. Secure within his fortress strong, Might noble YORK have tarried long; But MARGARET knew that EDWARD'S blade, Would soon his gallant father aid: And EDWARD, with the Welchmen brave, Might then his sire, from ruin, save. She therefore, with inglorious wiles, The Duke to hasty war beguiles; Provoked with sneer, and keen retort, The hapless chief too rashly fought. "My CICELY!" the warrior cried, "The haughty Queen shall not deride, My prowess long. I'll quickly show, I'm daunted nought, by vaunting foe." The captive dame he then addrest; "Nought can the hand of fate arrest; Another day may set thee free, If MARGARET claims the victory. While, stretch'd upon the bloody plain, CICELY, my loss, may mourn in vain. If such should be her hapless lot, Let not her friendship be forgot; GLENMORE did HENRY'S cause defend, The Queen thy wishes will attend, Then with thy interest shield thy friend." XXI. Where Wakefield's plains now peaceful, bear, The produce rich, of golden grain; Where Calder rolls along so fair, And wealth and commerce, hold their reign. Dire was the combat, dire the fray; Those fields were dyed with patriot blood, And purple ran the Calder's wave; Not only on that signal day, Has the life-stream of warrior brave, Commix'd with its translucent flood. Soon wrapt in death, brave RICHARD lies, The victim of his bold comprise. The voice, which thousands awed before, For ever mute, is heard no more: And closed the eye whence beamed the mind, Prudent, and bold, resolved, refin'd. On that same day his blooming son, RUTLAND, in youth's primeval pride, His race of glory quickly run, By CLIFFORD'S treacherous dagger died. XXII. The Queen victorious, led her train, Where Sandall's towers frowned o'er the plain, Then with resentment cruel, fired, To see the wife of YORK desired. She came.—"Why, MARGARET," she said, While dignity adorn'd her mien; "Would'st thou view me before thee led, A pris'ner sad?—Oh! haughty Queen, Bethink thee, 'ere it is too late; Ah! yes, remember, vengeful dame, Upon some sad reverse of fate, Thy sinking frame, and soul, may fain, From some, that consolation claim, Which none from thee can find. Thou, cruel, dost augment my pain, With insult rude, and taunt unkind!" XXIII. Oft CICELY, of rank so high, Had heav'd before, the anguish'd sigh; Sad proof, nor beauty, wealth, nor birth, Can shield from woe, the child of earth. For she was fair as e'er was feign'd Of those, who, 'mongst the poets reign'd; And wealth was hers, and hers to shine, The mother of a mighty line. Yet from those gifts, her sorrow flowed, For rank and power, her ills bestowed: Domestic strife, then bade to fly, Each all-delighting social tie. Nor did she e'er of battle hear, That wept she not, for kinsmen dear. PERCY, Northumbria's gallant boast, Fought 'mid Lancastrian HENRY'S host. He fought, he fell! his gentle wife, Not long survived the fatal strife; And CICELY wept for kindred twain, By grief and war, untimely slain. Then SOMERSET, to her, allied, Was taught how vain was earthly pride. Upon St. Alban's bloody day, Those chiefs became, of death, the prey. XXIV. And now, in MARGARET'S bosom lie, Hatred, revenge, and cruelty. Relentless Queen! oh, spare the dead! Is pity from thy bosom fled? Suits fell revenge, the female breast? Peaceful, let the warrior rest! But MARGARET'S ire, and CLIFFORD'S hate, Not e'en his death could fully sate. Ill suited it with queenly power, Such conduct to pursue: The head of YORK, that fatal hour, Before the windows of her tow'r, Was held, for CICELY to view. Superior 'bove the shock of fate, Then 'rose, of YORK, the widowed mate; She sighed but shed no tear. "Ah! ruthless Queen, perhaps 'twill be, By some new turn of destiny, Thy bitter lot, to sue for grace, To the now hated NEVILLE race. Or thy proud heart may writhe with anguish, And, with unthought of misery, languish, Drooping o'er thy darling's bier." By words like these, then GERTRUDE sought, Pity to wake, in MARGARET'S mind; But CICELY, avail they nought, And GERTRUDE'S lot they faster bind. Soon the royal mandate sped, To Raby were the dames conveyed; There answering tears, together shed, With grief o'ercome, by fear dismayed. XXV. Then too, brave SALISBURY, thou wert slain, Of NEVILLE'S race, aud WARWICK'S sire; The victim of proud MARGARET'S ire, Such cruel deeds her triumph stain. On Pomfret's scite, of bloody fame, For murd'rous scenes renown'd, Fell the brave chief, of hapless name; Again the deathful groans resound: Again is Pomfret, honor's fated tomb; Another RICHARD, mourns his ruthless doom. But leave we now the bloody scene, Quit we now the victor Queen; A softer sweeter tale to tell, Of what, fair ISADORE, befel; Where Conway's foaming waters roll, And love inspir'd young EDWARD'S soul. CANTO FOURTH. I. Upon that rock, where erst of old, Cambria's prophetic Bard foretold, That joyless laurels should enwreath, Great EDWARD'S victor brow; Heaped curses dire upon his foe, And bade the lay of vengeance breathe; There, an ancient fabric stood, Frowning over Conway's stream; And thence, reflected in the flood, The watch-tower's light, was seen to gleam. II. When, from Glenmore's fallen towers, EDWARD led his martial powers; Attended by his trusty band, He sought, with speed, the Cambrian land. Now, welcome to his anxious eyes, The beacons bright, before him rise. But ISADORE, with shuddering gaze, Beheld the flaming watch-lights blaze; For, by the broad flame's ruddy glare, This seem'd to her no fabric fair; But the rude pile of massy mould, Rose to her view, like prison-hold. It was the flame's uncertain light, And fear, that ever wildering wight, Which so misled the maiden's sight: There dwelt a dame of lordly line, Her beauty some had called divine. III. The dame, who own'd the wild domain, Was CLIFFORD'S sister, haughty JANE: The same, who once, in Raby's hall, MONTORRAN brave, had wish'd t' enthrall. Then, bright in youth;—now, years had flown: But softly o'er her charms had stol'n, Time, whose power, most things obey, With her had wav'd his potent sway. Still midst her country's hostile jar, No badge she own'd but Love's soft star; Midst warlike strife, serene and gay, Her ensign shot its silver ray. IV. CLIFFORD, in HENRY'S cause, was brave; For YORK, JANE'S star-decked pennons wave. EDWARD, the gallant and the young, For her, the lay had lightly sung; With her, would mingle in the dance, Or, for her beauty, break the lance. And now the fair, impetuous dame, For EDWARD felt, so wild a flame, She kindred, friends, for him resign'd, To future evil, madly blind. But all in vain, the princely youth, Suspecting nought, the hidden truth, Believed 'twas friendship's purer view, That made the dame such plans pursue. He, as his friend, the fair revered, And oft to her advice adhered; But his, nor passion's fervent fire, Nor the soft glow of young desire. V. A blast is blown, the mountains round, Reverberate the brazen sound. Soon they gain admittance free; "Thou shalt not mourn thy liberty," Said EDWARD, as he fondly prest, The hand of her, whom he addrest. The trembling fair he onward drew, To where the dame impatient staid; But, oh! how fled JANE'S roseate hue, When she perceiv'd the beauteous maid. VI. "See, lovely lady!" EDWARD cries, "I here have brought a peerless prize; Thou wilt, I know, each art employ, Fair hopes to raise, and grief destroy." Her sparkling eyes, with anger shine, Ah! then they beamed, as stars malign; For jealousy's fierce flame she felt, Kindness and pity quickly melt. Yet, with keen art, and deep disguise, She hid the truth from EDWARD'S eyes; So free a welcome promptly feigned, That she, their confidence, obtained. For ISADORE, unskill'd in art, Suspected not JANE'S wily heart; Kind heaven, she bless'd, for such a friend, And felt her youthful mind unbend, At amity's divine controul, While gratitude, illumed her soul. And the gay victor's ardent mind, To Love's bright visions, all resign'd; In views of future bliss indulged, Which, unrestrained, his tongue divulged. For still he vowed, that England's throne, He'd share with ISADORE alone. VII. Few were the dames that could defy, The radiance of young EDWARD'S eye; Where brightly arch, or gayly wild, The playful loves encurtained smiled. Oh! who could meet his glances warm, Or view his tall majestic form? Could mark that form's attractive grace, And scan the wonders of his face— That to brave EDWARD, could be cold, If formed of less than icy mould? But while his words, in ardent flow, Gave to her cheek, a livelier glow, Fair ISADORE'S cold air represt, The hopes which flutter'd in his breast. Yet not of ice, the maiden's heart: Well knew the fair, Love's potent art. Remembrance of the Minstrel's charms, The Earl, of power to please, disarms; His image still, triumphant reigns, And empire, o'er her heart, maintains. VIII. "My lord, we'll to the hall repair," Exclaimed Rock-Cader's haughty fair; "And there, in mirthful revelry, Dilate our hearts with joy and glee." As they partake of their repast, EDWARD plies the goblet fast; And eyes the youthful captive fair, With looks, replete with am'rous care; Which rais'd a keen and jealous smart, In fair DE CLIFFORD'S stricken heart. It chanc'd, that, 'mongst her household band, Was one, a youth from foreign land; Well skill'd to wake the echoing lyre, And bid the sweetest tones respire. "Hither let the minstrel bring His harp, his softest lay to sing!" Impatient cried the jealous dame. Prompt at her word, the minstrel came, An airy prelude lightly rang, And thus the bard enchanting sang. Melody.IX. The night it was drear, the keen winds were blowing, Around the forked light'nings all vividly played; The thunder loud roared, each horror bestowing, As the minstrel in gloom disconsolate strayed. Ah! little he deemed what forms him surrounded, And danced on the flash, or lurked in the cloud; He saw not the powers, that in darkness confounded, Directed his steps to battlements proud. Could he then believe that the Genii of Love, Were flitting around him in fanciful guise; No, the ken of mortality far, far, above, They met not the sight of the wanderer's eyes. A castle he viewed, 'twas the temple of joy, The fond vows of a maiden he there quickly gain'd; No time shall the dear recollection destroy, When that maiden approved of his raptures unfeign'd. "Minstrel, cease!" said Lady JANE, "I rather sought a soothing strain; Nor flames nor raptures please me now: Say, can'st thou sing of broken vow? "Ah! true, I can," the minstrel cried, And, at the thought, he sadly sighed. And then, in less enlivening notes, The sadden'd strain harmonic floats. Second Melody. No more of joy the minstrel sings, Or tells of bliss the raptured tale; To falsehood, wake the trembling strings, Well may their wonted powers fail. That fair one in whose snowy breast, Each shining virtue seemed enthroned; Has now another love confest, The lowly minstrel is disowned. Alas! no more the minstrel's vow, In fancy, dwells upon her ear; A high-born lover wooes her now, And she, well pleased, his vows can hear. X. While o'er her cheek, in crimson tides, Confusion's blushing torrent, glides; The maiden, with a timid eye, Glanced at the son of minstrelsy. One look sufficed, she saw, she knew, The youth to whom her vows were due: When first his thrilling voice she heard, This ARMYN is! her heart averr'd. But how did grief's benumbing chill, Succeed to joy's ecstatic thrill, When she, those mournful accents, caught, That spake her false in ARMYN'S thought. Then half she doubted if it were, That source of many a love-wrought care, Who thus transfixed her throbbing heart, With keen suspicion's stinging dart. Yet, ah! too sure, her humid eyes Witnessed how true her first surmise. XI. The youth withdrew, the guests retired, And various thoughts, each breast inspired; Young EDWARD, lost in calm repose, Dreamt of love, and conquered foes, While ISADORE, with grief, opprest, Wooed, but in vain, refreshing rest; And, in DE CLIFFORD'S bosom, reigned The rancorous ire of love disdained. When all seemed wrapt in peaceful sleep, And, save the river's foaming wave, That wound around the rocky steep, And deeply murmuring, music gave, Was silent all, and lone, and drear; With quivering lip, allied to fear, DE CLIFFORD sought the banquet hall; And well might fear her heart appal. Dire was her murderous intent, On brooding thoughts of mischief bent; She seized the glass whence EDWARD'S lip, Had joyed the rosy draught to sip, And in it then, with dread design, A potion poured of deadly wine. "Maid of the golden locks," she cried, "Thou ne'er shalt be a monarch's bride; Nor shall thy lover, hated fair, The royal ensigns ever wear, No crown upon his head shall lie, For sure, to-morrow, both shall die!" She said, and trimmed her waning light; For conscience seemed, before her sight, To bring, in long and dread array, Each crime that stained her youthful day. "Yet why this fear, for who can tell, How EDWARD and the maiden fell?" She said, and took the fateful glass: Then sought the portal wide, to pass. When lo! seemed, to her listening ear, The tramp of horses, clattering near; And soon, without the castle-wall, The horsemen, for admittance, call. In haste, the dame her chamber sought, Then asked the tidings which they brought; And whence there came, at that late hour, Those strangers to Rock-Cader's tower? XII. Thus, of the band, replied, the chief, In mingled tones of rage and grief. "Queen MARGARET has the battle won, The head of YORK is on a spear, And many a ruthless deed is done; WARWICK, the chief whom we revere, Has sent us for brave RICHARD'S son. EDWARD of YORK, awake from sleep, Stay not to sigh, stay not to weep; But seize the sword, assume the shield! Revenge! thy father's manes cry; Pleased shall his spirit, hovering nigh, Behold thee win the field." EDWARD heard the dread appeal, And sheath'ed himself in glittering steel; He vaulted on his prancing steed, And left the castle walls with speed. The warriors urged their coursers sleek, The rising blast blew strong and bleak; Swift passed they Snowdon's mountain high, Whose tow'ring summit dares the sky. But long their speed they could not hold. Each gallant knight and horseman bold, Held his steed with tightened rein, To guard their footing on the plain. XIII. Clear shone the stars, and Luna's beam, The snowy prospect, made, more bright; And, dancing in each silvered stream, Gave added beauties, to the night. It was a scene, in very truth, Might charm the eye of careless youth; Inspire devotion in the breast, And bid each thought, in heaven, to rest. For who can view the planets roll, Nor feel devotion in their soul? But lost in mournful mood profound, EDWARD rode, nor gazed around, Until the border, they were near, Of the fair lake of Pimblemeer. So beauteous was the scene, and grand, That, by pure Bala's frozen strand, The hardy chiefs, of Britain's isle, In wonder fixed remained awhile. Then EDWARD looked upon the lake, And sorrowing viewed the lovely scene; Then new-born ire appeared to wake, And sternness marked his mien. "My sire," he cried, "my slaughtered sire, Thy wrongs, my soul, to vengeance, fire; This sword once drawn, thy dauntless son, Will sheath no more, till victory's won." Thus spake the youth, then onward flew; Scarce could his train such speed pursue; For EDWARD'S mind was filled with rage, And much he longed fierce war to wage, Against his father's vengeful foe, Who caused his noble blood to flow. XIV. His hasty route, by night or day, Impatient EDWARD would not stay, But danger hovered on his way. For see a courier comes with speed, And EDWARD checks his foaming steed. "What are the tidings which ye bear?" Demands, of YORK the impetuous heir. "Would my lord the sceptre own, Would he sit on England's throne, Haste to London, 'ere the Queen, Before the city gates is seen!" The courier said, his pallid cheek, Some nearer danger seemed to speak. "Caitiff! the whole thou hast not told!" Cried EDWARD, "haste, thy tale unfold!" The messenger, to him replied; "A mighty host, in arms, allied, The champions of the blooming rose, Should'st thou advance, thy march oppose. Would'st thou to Wales, again retreat, Danger or death, my lord must meet; For JASPER TUDOR, PEMBROKE hight, In arms, a famed and val'rous knight, Against thee, MARGARET has sent: Thy safe return he will prevent." "Renowned in arms tho' PEMBROKE be, I'll prove that I'm as brave as he; His myrmidons I will defy:" Was then, of YORK, the bold reply. He said, and promptly turned his horse. 'Ere long, by Mortimer's famed cross, The foes were met, the battle tried, And bravely many foe-men died. Then OWEN TUDOR'S wretched fate, Avenged the cause of SALISBURY dead; For cruelty createth hate; By murder, murder must be paid. XV. Now the tide of conquest turned, And victory, that ere while, Her lambent flame, o'er MARGARET, burned, On EDWARD seemed to smile. For tho', on Barnet's blood-stained field, The YORKISTS to LANCASTRIANS yield; Treachery, the short lived triumph gained, And victory, o'er the foe, obtained. Not long her prospects bright, appear; Horror and plunder in her rear; To MARGARET, of the bloody Rose, AUGUSTA'S GATES would not unclose: With EDWARD'S name her confines ring; And WARWICK hails him England's king. XVI. But now we must revert to where, O'ercome by fury and despair, The Lady JANE beheld her prey Snatched, from her deadly grasp, away. "Yet one remains," exclaimed the dame, "She shall avenge my slightest flame; Her death, his heart, with grief, shall wring, While, from that source, my joy shall spring." Vain was the boast, for Heaven its care Extended o'er the gentle fair. Then sleep had fled the minstrel's eye, And the drear hall, he softly paced; Best loved he on that spot to sigh, Which ISADORE so lately graced. There, ARMYN, hid in friendly shade, Had marked the draught by JANE prepared; Her vengeful jealousy to aid, Escape, the youth then nobly dared. To ISADORE'S apartment flew, And, near the maiden, gently drew. XVII. Sad ISADORE no sleep had known; Peace was no more, and joy was flown; Her ARMYN'S doubts within her breast, Bade grief tumultuous, baffle rest. The warden's blast then struck her ear, She started from her couch with fear; "What danger now besets?" she cried, "Yet powers divine, oh! guard my love; Whatever fate may, me, betide, My ARMYN save, ye powers above!" The weeping maiden heaved a sigh, And answering sigh was echoed near; She turned, the minstrel met her eye. "ARMYN!" she cried, "why camest thou here?" "Hist! speak not, trust thy fate with me, My wild suspicious doubts forgive; Thy ARMYN trust, and thou shalt live. But, ah! the dame prepares for thee, A potion, whose destroying power, Would quickly blight thy youth's bright flower." He seized her hand—the wildered fair, Followed, where ARMYN'S footsteps led; At length they reached the solemn lair, Where low, were laid, the mighty dead. There, mouldering in their icy trance, Chieftains, once famed in arms, reposed; No ray illumed the drear expanse, Which their death-clad remains inclosed. "Oh, ARMYN! come we here to die?" To die! the echoing vaults reply. XVIII. "Hark! what sound then met mine ear? No mortal can inhabit here!" The awe-struck minstrel said. A voice replied, "dismiss thy fear, Whoe'er thou art; ah! tell me why Thy steps in death's dark regions, tread!" "From JANE DE CLIFFORD'S wrath I fly, Can I assistance give to thee? Say, art thou lost to liberty? Companion of the dead?" "Ah! short is now life's weary way, Soon shall I quit this mortal clay, And seek the realms of endless day. But, haste, young fugitive, pursue The path, thy fates ordain; Here, if thou stay, thou'lt shortly rue The deathful ire of haughty JANE." XIX. "Sweet ISADORE! oh, deign to join Thy soft persuasive voice with mine, That we may set this stranger free, And hail together, liberty." When ARMYN ceased, the unknown cried, "If, for thyself, thou hast little care, Yet haste, lest ill the fair betide, Who seems thy destiny to share." Thro' a rude grate, with dusky beam, Began the morning rays to gleam; The broken sun-beams faintly shed, A misty radiance, o'er the dead: And lightly glanced upon a form, That once, with valiant ardor warm, Had eager chased the flying foe, And laid full many a hero low; But wasted now, by grief and tears, A living skeleton appears. So tall, so gaunt, so deadly pale, The maiden's courage 'gan to fail; Scarce could she deem a mortal man, The ghastly form, her eyes did scan. XX. At length, persuasion's gentle power, The captive's wilful mood o'ercame; His fetters loosed, that fateful hour, He foiled the vengeful dame. Many a dreary passage past, Whose endless echoes loudly roll, A briar-choaked outlet gained at last: "Thanks to our Lady! here's the goal." Said ARMYN:—Then, with eager haste, He lightly clasped the damsel's waist; And, with his burthen, swiftly flew To where, a boat, lay moored in view: In that he placed the wondering fair, And then, the stranger, made his care. The oars, then ARMYN seized, and now They turn the steep rock's rugged brow: While, brightly, on the glittering tide, A stream of radiance flashed; The oars a golden wave divide, And, o'er the stream, the vessel dashed. XXI. But soon the cheering scene was flown, An arrowy sleet poured forth; Rude wintry storms were roughly blown, Sent from the keen and blustering north. Defenceless from the chilling air, Scarcely could the shivering fair Endure the bitter blast. Now far from either friendly shore, By winds and waves tossed on the main, Young ARMYN saw, and saw aghast! How useless was the oar, To guide the bark across the watery plain. XXII. Upon each rolling billow's verge, Death seemed his course, tow'rds them to urge. ARMYN, in sorrow, clasped his hands, And speechless, on his love, he gazed; All undismayed, the stranger stands, His eyes to heaven were raised. "Oh, ARMYN! 'tis for me thou'lt die!" Said ISADORE; her falling tears To pearls enfrozen as they flowed. "Suppress, for me, those generous fears, My ISADORE!" was his reply. Th' unknown a glance, on her, bestowed, Then started, as he viewed her face, And marked her form's aërial grace. "Who were thy parents, lovely maid?" In haste, the gazing stranger said. "Where Glenmore's gloomy turrets rise, I was an inmate," she replies; (Unknown to her, that then no more, All stately, rose each frowning tower; For EDWARD had her thence conveyed, 'Ere the proud pile in ruins laid.) "Glenmore! detested and abhorred! Say, knew'st thou Glenmore's hated lord?— Was he thy friend? oh, quickly say!" She half pronounced a trembling nay: For, oh! she marked th' impending wave, From which, no art, their bark could save. Then ARMYN clasped her to his heart, And vowed, in death, alone they'd part. High, on the foaming surge, they ride; Then dive beneath the circling tide. XXIII. The minstrel, with his precious care, Stemmed, for awhile, the ocean's power; His frame at length no more can bear, In youth's bright morn, in beauty's flower, Oh, must the minstrel die? No! see where on the stormy wave, A bark approaches prompt to save; And see the welcome signals fly, They meet young ARMYN'S drooping eye; New life awhile they seem to bring, And every slackened nerve new string. Firm, on the deck, a warrior true, Stood towering 'bove the hardy crew; The stranger, midst the watery world, In deathlike trance, was listless hurled. And, for the wretched, nobly brave, That warrior snatched him from the grave. Then, while the crew the minstrel tend, His cares the youthful fair befriend; Awaking from her tearful sleep, "Is ARMYN buried in the deep?" With anxious love, she trembling cries: The warrior hushed the dread surmise. "The youth is safe, thy father too." "Alas! I ne'er my father knew!" She sighing said; the hero prest Her cold hand to his valiant breast. "Say, gentle maid," he softly cried, "Was it not rash to dare the tide, When boisterous winds contending played, And murky clouds obscured the day?" "'Twas dire necessity," she said, "Bound us where winds and tempests lay." XXIV. Now near the welcome harbour lies, And lofty turrets distant rise; Thine were those towers, fair Ennerdale, Emerging from thy snow-clad vale. Thither, in litters, gently borne, The stranger and the damsel go; And ARMYN ceases now to mourn, What first he deemed a grievous woe. Now, within the trophied hall, Where many a war-torn banner hung; The stranger gazed around on all— On all, a wistful glance he flung. Then thus exclaimed, "yes, it was here, That first, I viewed the peerless dame! What brilliant scenes would then appear; How glowed fair Hope's resplendent flame. But who now owns this fair domain? Is gallant EDENMERE no more? In fight, perhaps, untimely slain, I must again my friend deplore." The warrior lifts his iron mask; "May EDENMERE thy title ask?" Then thus the startled stranger said, "Ah! grief has blanched this hoary head—" "Tho' Alpine honors shade his brow, My once-loved friend, I welcome now; It is MONTORRAN'S well known voice, That bids this aching heart rejoice!" Fair ISADORE the stranger eyed, And then, in joyful tone, she cried: "MONTORRAN risen from the tomb! How oft has GERTRUDE, wept thy doom; Drear is the life, she long, has led, And streaming tears, for ever, shed. But now"—She ceased; for lo! amain, Remembrance rushed upon her brain, "Ah, yes!" Lord EDENMERE then said, "In Raby's walls, imprisoned now, With CICELY, she mourns the dead, And, to thy spirit, plights her vow. GLENMORE his kindred demons meets, Yet, a sad tale, thy new life greets; Thy lovely sister is no more, Her early loss, I still deplore: Still shed the truly sorrowing tear, O'er beauteous BERTHA'S youthful bier. Her child she lost, and from that hour, Nor peace, nor comfort, were her dower. But now, my friend, to me relate, Whate'er has been thy wondrous fate; So strange it seems, to see thee here, By all, thought dead, thro' many a year." XXV. Then, told MONTORRAN, how his foe, Had wounded him, with ambushed bow; And that, to GERTRUDE'S tearful eye, He seemed, of that base wound, to die. But, oh! false friendship's healing care, His fleeting life, recalled; For then, a young and lovely fair, With fear, for him, appalled, Hung o'er his form, in the disguise Of that same seeming sage, Who, once, before wronged GERTRUDE'S eyes, Rushed from the hermitage. It was the fair, the wily Jane, Who thus forgot her sex's pride; Resolved was still, that maiden vain, She would, to OSWALD, be allied. She traced him from his native land, To Durance' fair romantic strand; And, in that hermit garb, concealed, To him, her ardent love revealed. MONTORRAN'S cheek, indignant glows, And scorn, contemptuous, arose Within his manly, faithful heart, When JANE, her passion, dared impart. XXVI. "Lady! it is my boast," he said, "Thy sex's honor, to defend; And sooner shalt thou view me dead, Than, to such love, an ear I'll lend. Bethink thee, dame! can'st thou decline, From the high pride of CLIFFORD'S line? Can'st thou! upon whose blooming face, Kind nature sheds each glowing grace, With youth, with rank, with beauty bright, Can JANE! in error's path, delight? Of me, thou must all thought resign, For GERTRUDE'S vows are pledged with mine. Then cease! thy vain pursuit give o'er, And, of MONTORRAN, think no more!" Forth from her lips, without controul, Then rushed the frenzy of her soul. Insensate wretch! go, gaze awhile On thy fair GERTRUDE'S placid smile; Or in her soft, blue, sleepy eye, Try if thou can'st new charms descry. Soon, soon, will fate that bliss destroy, Vengeance shall blast the buds of joy Thy heart shall bleed at every pore, 'Till JANE or GERTRUDE be no more!" XXVII. Those fearful threats made OSWALD fly, DE CLIFFORD'S fury to defy; She, who to passion, yields the rein, Nor art, nor force, can e'er restrain. On malice bent, as once, on love, She followed to Vaucluse's grove; Thence, tidings sent to Glenmore's chief, Obeyed he soon, the summons brief; Divided were the lovely pair! But, oh! how felt the haughty fair, When cold, and bloody, on the ground, MONTORRAN'S pallid form, she found. "Ah, ruthless chief!" she shrieking cried, "Not OSWALD'S self, but OSWALD'S bride, I sought to make the victim dire, Of jealousy's inflaming ire. My rival lives, my love is slain, And unrevenged, my wrongs remain." XXVIII. When lo! faint life, the dame perceives, Again, the wretched OSWALD breathes; And thro' th' empassioned fair one's aid, The tides of health his frame pervade. He speeds away, to England's shore, And seeks the towers of dark Glenmore; No bright inhabitant of heaven, To GERTRUDE'S gazing eye was given. It was no immaterial sprite, MONTORRAN living, met her sight; Arrived just in the fateful hour; He saved her from a tyrant's power. And soon he thought to claim the fair, Which then, unarmed, he could not dare. As he, to reach his stately home, A trackless heath was crossing o'er; "Stay thee, Sir Knight, where dost thou roam, Think not to night, to cross this moor:" Exclaimed a rude and grimly band. He spurred his gallant courser's side; They stay his horse, they seize his hand, His way beset, his threats deride. Entangled in DE CLIFFORD'S toils, The chief prepared for every woe; But, from the fair, his soul recoils, Nor could her art, his truth o'erthrow. XXIX. There paused MONTORRAN;—and his friend Bade, for awhile, the tale to cease; To-morrow shall thy story end, To-night we'll pledge thy joy's increase. But ISADORE, fatigued and spent, Declined the generous feast to share; Repose, restoring influence lent, And softly hovered o'er the fair. NOTESTOCANTO THE FIRST. Page 11, line 3. Then flourished fair, the Rose of snow, Triumphant o'er its ruddy foe.

The Poem commences after the defeat of the Lancastrians, at Northampton, in 1460; when the unfortunate HENRY was taken prisoner in his tent. The badge of the House of Lancaster, was a Red Rose; that of York, was the White.

The Author is aware that she has not spelt the name of her heroine according to the original orthography; but as ISADORE, is more poetical and feminine than ISIDORE, and more agreeable to the English language, she has adopted that mode of spelling the name, in preference to the French or Italian.