Yet Emily is soothed;—the breeze
Came fraught with kindly sympathies.
As she approached yon rustic Shed[110] 85
Hung with late-flowering woodbine, spread
Along the walls and overhead,
The fragrance of the breathing flowers
Revived[111] a memory of those hours
When here, in this remote alcove, 90
(While from the pendent woodbine came
Like odours, sweet as if the same)
A fondly-anxious Mother strove
To teach her salutary fears
And mysteries above her years. 95
Yes, she is soothed: an Image faint,
And yet not faint—a presence bright
Returns to her—that blessèd Saint[112]
Who with mild looks and language mild
Instructed here her darling Child, 100
While yet a prattler on the knee,
To worship in simplicity
The invisible God, and take for guide
The faith reformed and purified.
'Tis flown—the Vision, and the sense 105
Of that beguiling influence;
"But oh! thou Angel from above,
Mute Spirit[113] of maternal love,
That stood'st before my eyes, more clear
Than ghosts are fabled to appear 110
Sent upon embassies of fear;
As thou thy presence hast to me
Vouchsafed, in radiant ministry
Descend on Francis; nor forbear
To greet him with a voice, and say;— 115
'If hope be a rejected stay,
Do thou, my Christian Son, beware
Of that most lamentable snare,
The self-reliance of despair!'"[114]
Then from within the embowered retreat 120
Where she had found a grateful seat
Perturbed she issues. She will go!
Herself will follow to the war,
And clasp her Father's knees;—ah, no!
She meets the insuperable bar, 125
The injunction by her Brother laid;
His parting charge—but ill obeyed—
That interdicted all debate,
All prayer for this cause or for that;
All efforts that would turn aside 130
The headstrong current of their fate:
Her duty is to stand and wait;[115][KK]
In resignation to abide
The shock, and finally secure
O'er pain and grief a triumph pure.[115] 135
—She feels it, and her pangs are checked.[116]
But now, as silently she paced
The turf, and thought by thought was chased,
Came One who, with sedate respect,
Approached, and, greeting her, thus spake;[117] 140
"An old man's privilege I take:
Dark is the time—a woeful day!
Dear daughter of affliction, say
How can I serve you? point the way."
"Rights have you, and may well be bold: 145
You with my Father have grown old
In friendship—strive—for his sake go—
Turn from us all the coming woe:[118]
This would I beg; but on my mind
A passive stillness is enjoined. 150
On you, if room for mortal aid
Be left, is no restriction laid;[119]
You not forbidden to recline
With hope upon the Will divine."
"Hope," said the old Man, "must abide 155
With all of us, whate'er betide.[120]
In Craven's Wilds is many a den,
To shelter persecuted men:[LL]
Far under ground is many a cave,
Where they might lie as in the grave, 160
Until this storm hath ceased to rave:
Or let them cross the River Tweed,
And be at once from peril freed!"
"Ah tempt me not!" she faintly sighed;
"I will not counsel nor exhort, 165
With my condition satisfied;
But you, at least, may make report
Of what befals;—be this your task—
This may be done;—'tis all I ask!"
She spake—and from the Lady's sight 170
The Sire, unconscious of his age,
Departed promptly as a Page
Bound on some errand of delight.
—The noble Francis—wise as brave,
Thought he, may want not skill[121] to save. 175
With hopes in tenderness concealed,
Unarmed he followed to the field;
Him will I seek: the insurgent Powers
Are now besieging Barnard's Towers,—[MM]
"Grant that the Moon which shines this night 180
May guide them in a prudent flight!"
But quick the turns of chance and change,
And knowledge has a narrow range;
Whence idle fears, and needless pain,
And wishes blind, and efforts vain.— 185
The Moon may shine, but cannot be
Their guide in flight—already she[122]
Hath witnessed their captivity.
She saw the desperate assault
Upon that hostile castle made;— 190
But dark and dismal is the vault
Where Norton and his sons are laid!
Disastrous issue!—he had said
"This night yon faithless[123] Towers must yield,
Or we for ever quit the field. 195
—Neville is utterly dismayed,
For promise fails of Howard's aid;
And Dacre to our call replies
That he[124] is unprepared to rise.
My heart is sick;—this weary pause 200
Must needs be fatal to our cause.[125]
The breach is open—on the wall,
This night,—the Banner shall be planted!"
—'Twas done: his Sons were with him—all;
They belt him round with hearts undaunted 205
And others follow;—Sire and Son
Leap down into the court;—"'Tis won"—
They shout aloud—but Heaven decreed
That with their joyful shout should close
The triumph of a desperate deed[126] 210
Which struck with terror friends and foes!
The friend shrinks back—the foe recoils
From Norton and his filial band;
But they, now caught within the toils,
Against a thousand cannot stand;— 215
The foe from numbers courage drew,
And overpowered that gallant few.
"A rescue for the Standard!" cried
The Father from within the walls;
But, see, the sacred Standard falls!— 220
Confusion through the Camp spread[127] wide:
Some fled; and some their fears detained:
But ere the Moon had sunk to rest
In her pale chambers of the west,
Of that rash levy nought remained. 225
CANTO FIFTH
High on a point of rugged ground
Among the wastes of Rylstone Fell
Above the loftiest ridge or mound
Where foresters or shepherds dwell,
An edifice of warlike frame 5
Stands single—Norton Tower its name—[NN]
It fronts all quarters, and looks round
O'er path and road, and plain and dell,
Dark moor, and gleam of pool and stream
Upon a prospect without bound. 10