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قراءة كتاب The Ballads and Songs of Yorkshire Transcribed from Private Manuscripts, Rare Broadsides, and Scarce Publications; with Notes and a Glossary
تنويه: تعرض هنا نبذة من اول ١٠ صفحات فقط من الكتاب الالكتروني، لقراءة الكتاب كاملا اضغط على الزر “اشتر الآن"
اللغة: English
The Ballads and Songs of Yorkshire Transcribed from Private Manuscripts, Rare Broadsides, and Scarce Publications; with Notes and a Glossary
الصفحة رقم: 7
A shelter to her head.
"Whilst I, to hasten promised aids,
Range wildly through the night,
And, with impatient mind, expect
The morning's friendly light."
Thus Edwy spoke; and wondering, gazed
Upon his hermit host,
For in his form beam'd manly grace,
Untouch'd by age's frost.
The hermit sigh'd and thus he said;—
"Know, there was once a day,
This tale of thine would fire my heart,
And bid me join thy way.
"But luckless love dejects my soul,
And casts my spirits down;
Thou seest the wretch of woman's pride,
Of follies not my own.
"I once amid my sovereign's train
Was a distinguish'd youth,
But blighted is my former fame,
By Sorrow's cankering tooth.
"When Ethelred the crown did hold,
I to this district came;
And then a fair and matchless maid
First raised in me a flame.
"Her father was a noble lord
Of an illustrious race,
Who join'd to rustic honesty
The courtier's gentle race.
"'Twas then I told my artless tale,
By love alone inspired;
For never was my honest speech
In flattering guise attired.
"At first she heard, or seem'd to hear,
The voice of tender love;
But soon, the ficklest of her sex,
Did she deceitful prove.
"She drove me scornful from her sight,
Rejected and disdain'd;
In vain did words for pity plead,
In vain my looks complain'd.
"How could that breast which pity fill'd,
Ever relentless be?
How could that face which smiled on all,
Have ever frowns for me?
"Since that fell hour, I in this cell
Have lived recluse from man;
And twice ten months have pass'd since I
The hermit's life began."
"O stain to honour!" Edwy cry'd;
"O foul disgrace to arms!
What, when thy country claims thy aid,
And shakes with war's alarms!
"Canst thou, inglorious, here remain,
And strive thyself to hide;
Assume the monkish coward life,
All for a woman's pride?"
With louder voice and warmer look,
His hermit host rejoin'd;
"Think'st thou, vain youth, the chains of fear
Could here a warrior bind?
"Know, boy, thou seest Hermanrick here;
Well vers'd in war's alarms;
A name once not unknown to fame,
Nor unrenown'd in arms.
"O, Athelgiva! (yet too dear)
Did I thy danger know:
Yet would I fly to thy relief,
And crush th' invading foe."
With fluster'd cheek, young Edwy turn'd,
At Athelgiva's name;
And, "Gracious powers! it must be he!"
He cries, "it is the same!
"I know full well, I have not now
More of thy tale to learn;
I heard this morn, ere from the wave
You could the sun discern.
"My sister loves thee, gallant youth,
By all the saints on high!
She wept last night, when thy hard fate
She told with many a sigh.
"Forgive her, then, and in her cause
Thy limbs with steel infold:
Was it not Ardolph's daughter, say,
Who late thy heart did hold?"
"It was, it was!" Hermanrick cry'd;
"I heard her brother's name;
"Tis said he was a gallant youth,
Who sought abroad for fame."
Then Edwy sprang to his embrace,
And clasp'd him to his breast;
"And thou shalt be my brother, too,"
He said and look'd the rest.
"But now let honour fill thy mind,
Be love's soft laws obey'd;
'Tis Athelgiva claims thy sword,
'Tis she demands thy aid.
"She, with impatient anxious heart,
Expects my quick return;
And till again she sees me safe,
The hapless maid will mourn.
"Then let us fly to seek these chiefs,
Who promised aid to send;
Earl Osrick was my father's guest,
Lord Redwald is my friend."
Hermanrick said, "First let us go
To cheer yon drooping maid;
Again I'll wear my canker'd arms,
Again I'll draw my blade."
Then from a corner of the cell
His clashing arms appear;
But when he mark'd the growing rust,
The warrior dropt a tear.
Then forth they went—Hermanrick knew
Each pathway of the wood;
And safe before the abbey gate
At break of day they stood.
Now sleep the wearied maiden's eyes
At length had kindly seal'd,
When at the gate the wandering knights
Returning day reveal'd.
"Quick call the abbess," Edwy said,
To him who kept the door,
Who watch'd and pray'd the live-long night,
A pious priest and poor.
The abbess came, with instant haste;
Th' alarming bell was rung;
And from their matted homely beds
The fainted virgins sprung.