قراءة كتاب The Ballads and Songs of Yorkshire Transcribed from Private Manuscripts, Rare Broadsides, and Scarce Publications; with Notes and a Glossary

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‏اللغة: English

The Ballads and Songs of Yorkshire Transcribed from Private Manuscripts, Rare Broadsides, and Scarce Publications; with Notes and a Glossary

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المؤلف:

Ingledew C J Davison

دار النشر: Project Gutenberg

الصفحة رقم: 6

and that he would give twelve of his mansions for the erection of monasteries. Being successful, Oswy, in order to fulfil his vow, placed his daughter Ethelfleda, then scarcely a year old, as a nun in the monastery called Hertesie (Stag Island), of which Lady Hilda, niece of Edwin, first Christian king of Northumberland, was abbess; and having procured ten hides of land, in the place called Streanshalle (Whitby), built there in 657, a monastery for men and women of the Benedictine order, which was dedicated to St. Peter, and Lady Hilda appointed the first abbess. This lady was so famous for her sanctity that she attained the name of St. Hilda, and the monastery, though dedicated to St. Peter, is generally called after her. This abbey continued to flourish till about the year 867, when a party of Danes, under Hinguar and Hubba, landed at Dunsley Bay, the Dunus Sinus of Ptolemy, plundered the country around, and amongst other depredations entirely destroyed the monastery. About this period the tale is supposed to commence; the succeeding incidents are all fictitious, and were dictated to the author, in some measure, by the romantic situation of the abbey, (magnificent in ruin,) which is exceedingly proper for such events.

This monastery lay in ruins till after the conquest, when king William assigned Whitby to Hugh de Abrincis, who disposed of the place to William de Percy, by whom the monastery was refounded about 1074, and dedicated to St. Peter and St. Hilda. In the reign of Henry VIII. this house shared the fate of the other monastic establishments; and its yearly revenues, according to Dugdale, were £437 2s. 9d.; and £505 9s. 1d., according to Speed.

"Here mayst thou rest, my sister dear,

Securely here abide;

Here royal Edelfleda lived,

Here pious Hilda died.

"Here peace and quiet ever dwell:

Here fear no rude alarms;

Nor here is heard the trumpet's sound,

Nor here the din of arms!"

With voice compos'd and look serene,

(Whilst her soft hand he press'd,)

The maid, who trembled on his arm,

Young Edwy thus address'd.

Blue gleam'd the steel in Edwy's hand,

The warrior's vest he bore:

For now the Danes, by Hubba led,

Had ravaged half the shore.

His summons at the abbey gate

The ready porter hears;

And soon, in veil and holy garb,

The abbess kind appears.

"O take this virgin to thy care,

Good angels be your guard;

And may the saints in heaven above

That pious care reward.

"For we by fierce barbarian hands

Are driven from our home;

And three long days and nights forlorn,

The dreary waste we roam.

"But I must go—these towers to save;

Beneath the evening shade,

I haste to seek Earl Osrick's pow'r,

And call Lord Redwald's aid."

He said—and turn'd his ready foot;

The abbess nought replies;

But, with a look that spoke her grief,

To heaven upcast her eyes.

Then, turning to the stranger dame,

"O welcome to this place;

For never Whitby's holy fane

Did fairer maiden grace."

And true she said—for on her cheek

Was seen young beauty's bloom,

Though grief, with slow and wasting stealth,

Did then her prime consume.

Her shape was all that thought can frame,

Of elegance and grace;

And heav'n the beauties of her mind

Reflected in her face.

"My daughter, lay aside thy fears,"

Again the matron cry'd,

"No Danish ravishers come here—"

—Again the virgin sigh'd.

The abbess saw, the abbess knew,

'Twas love that shook her breast;

And thus, in accents soft and mild,

The mournful maid addrest,

"My daughter dear, as to thy friend

Be all thy care confest;

I see 'tis love disturbs thy mind,

And wish to give thee rest.

"But hark! I hear the vesper bell,

Now summons us to prayer;

That duty done, with needful food

Thy wasted strength repair."

But now the pitying mournful muse

Of Edwy's hap shall tell;

And what amid his nightly walk

That gallant youth befell.

For journeying by the bank of Esk

He took his lonely way;

And now through showers of driving rain

His erring footsteps stray.

At length, from far, a glimmering light

Trembled among the trees:

And entering soon a moss-built hut,

A holy man he sees.

"O father, deign a luckless youth

This night with thee to shield;

I am no robber, though my arm

This deadly weapon wield."

"I fear no robber, stranger, here,

For I have nought to lose;

And thou mayst safely through the night

In this poor cell repose.

"And thou art welcome to my hut,"

The holy man replied;

"Still welcome here is he whom fate

Has left without a guide.

"Whence and what art thou, gentle youth?"

The noble Edwy said,

"I go to rouse Earl Osrick's power,

And seek Lord Redwald's aid.

"My father is a wealthy lord,

Who now with Alfred stays;

And me he left to guard his seat,

Whilst he his duty pays.

"But vain the hope—in dead of night

The cruel spoiler came;

And o'er each neighb'ring castle threw

The wide-devouring flame.

"To shun its rage, at early dawn,

I with my sister fled;

And Whitby's abbey now affords

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