"'Hear then,' said he, 'while I impart,
My Son, the last wish of my heart. 125
The Banner strive thou to regain;
And, if the endeavour prove not[145] vain,
Bear it—to whom if not to thee
Shall I this lonely thought consign?—
Bear it to Bolton Priory, 130
And lay it on Saint Mary's shrine;
To wither in the sun and breeze
'Mid those decaying sanctities.
There let at least the gift be laid,
The testimony there displayed; 135
Bold proof that with no selfish aim,
But for lost Faith and Christ's dear name,
I helmeted a brow though white,
And took a place in all men's sight;
Yea offered up this noble[146] Brood, 140
This fair unrivalled Brotherhood,
And turned away from thee, my Son!
And left—but be the rest unsaid,
The name untouched, the tear unshed;—
My wish is known, and I have done: 145
Now promise, grant this one request,
This dying prayer, and be thou blest!'
"Then Francis answered—'Trust thy Son,
For, with God's will, it shall be done!'—[147]
"The pledge obtained, the solemn word[148] 150
Thus scarcely given, a noise was heard,
And Officers appeared in state
To lead the prisoners to their fate.
They rose, oh! wherefore should I fear
To tell, or, Lady, you to hear? 155
They rose—embraces none were given—
They stood like trees when earth and heaven
Are calm; they knew each other's worth,
And reverently the Band went forth.
They met, when they had reached the door, 160
One with profane and harsh intent
Placed there—that he might go before
And, with that rueful Banner borne
Aloft in sign of taunting scorn,[149]
Conduct them to their punishment: 165
So cruel Sussex, unrestrained
By human feeling, had ordained.
The unhappy Banner Francis saw,
And, with a look of calm command
Inspiring universal awe, 170
He took it from the soldier's hand;
And all the people that stood round[150]
Confirmed the deed in peace profound.
—High transport did the Father shed
Upon his Son—and they were led, 175
Led on, and yielded up their breath;
Together died, a happy death!—
But Francis, soon as he had braved
That insult, and the Banner saved,
Athwart the unresisting tide[151] 180
Of the spectators occupied
In admiration or dismay,
Bore instantly[152] his Charge away."
These things, which thus had in the sight
And hearing passed of Him who stood 185
With Emily, on the Watch-tower height,
In Rylstone's woeful neighbourhood,
He told; and oftentimes with voice
Of power to comfort[153] or rejoice;
For deepest sorrows that aspire, 190
Go high, no transport ever higher.
"Yes—God is rich in mercy," said
The old Man to the silent Maid,
"Yet, Lady! shines, through this black night,
One star of aspect heavenly bright;[154] 195
Your Brother lives—he lives—is come
Perhaps already to his home;
Then let us leave this dreary place."
She yielded, and with gentle pace,
Though without one uplifted look, 200
To Rylstone-hall her way she took.
CANTO SIXTH
Why comes not Francis?—From the doleful City
He fled,—and, in his flight, could hear
The death-sounds of the Minster-bell:[155]
That sullen stroke pronounced farewell
To Marmaduke, cut off from pity! 5
To Ambrose that! and then a knell
For him, the sweet half-opened Flower!
For all—all dying in one hour!
—Why comes not Francis? Thoughts of love
Should bear him to his Sister dear 10
With the fleet motion of a dove;[156]
Yea, like a heavenly messenger
Of speediest wing, should he appear.[157]
Why comes he not?—for westward fast
Along the plain of York he past; 15
Reckless of what impels or leads,
Unchecked he hurries on;—nor heeds
The sorrow, through the Villages,
Spread by triumphant cruelties[158]
Of vengeful military force, 20
And punishment without remorse.
He marked not, heard not, as he fled;
All but the suffering heart was dead
For him abandoned to blank awe,
To vacancy, and horror strong:[159] 25
And the first object which he saw,
With conscious sight, as he swept along—
It was the Banner in his hand!
He felt—and made a sudden stand.
He looked about like one betrayed: 30
What hath he done? what promise made?
Oh weak, weak moment! to what end
Can such a vain oblation tend,
And he the Bearer?—Can he go
Carrying this instrument of woe, 35
And find, find any where, a right
To excuse him in his Country's sight?
No; will not all men deem the change
A downward course, perverse and strange?
Here is it;—but how? when? must she, 40
The unoffending Emily,
Again this piteous object see?
Such conflict long did he maintain,
Nor liberty nor rest could gain:[160]
His own life into danger brought 45
By this sad burden—even that thought,
Exciting self-suspicion strong,
Swayed the brave man to his wrong.[161]
And how—unless it were the sense
Of all-disposing Providence, 50
Its will unquestionably shown—
How has the Banner clung so fast
To a palsied, and unconscious hand;
Clung to the hand to which it passed
Without impediment? And why 55
But that Heaven's purpose might be known,
Doth now no hindrance meet his eye,
No intervention, to withstand
Fulfilment of a Father's prayer
Breathed to a Son forgiven, and blest 60
When all resentments were at rest,
And life in death laid the heart bare?—
Then, like a spectre sweeping by,
Rushed through his mind the prophecy
Of utter desolation made 65
To Emily in the yew-tree shade:
He sighed, submitting will and power
To the stern embrace of that grasping hour.[162]
"No choice is left, the deed is mine—
Dead are they, dead!—and I will go, 70
And, for their sakes, come weal or woe,
Will lay the Relic on the shrine."
So forward with a steady will
He went, and traversed plain and hill;
And up the vale of Wharf his way 75
Pursued;—and, at the dawn of day,
Attained a summit whence his eyes[163]
Could see the Tower of Bolton rise.
There Francis for a moment's space
Made halt—but hark! a noise behind 80
Of horsemen at an eager pace!
He heard, and with misgiving mind.
—'Tis Sir George Bowes who leads the Band:
They come, by cruel Sussex sent;
Who, when the Nortons from the hand 85
Of death had drunk their punishment,
Bethought him, angry and ashamed,
How Francis, with the Banner claimed
As his own charge, had disappeared,[164]
By all the standers-by revered. 90
His whole bold carriage (which had quelled
Thus far the Opposer, and repelled
All censure, enterprise so bright
That even bad men had vainly striven
Against that overcoming light) 95
Was then reviewed, and prompt word given,
That to what place soever fled
He should be seized, alive or dead.
The troop of horse have gained the height
Where Francis stood in open sight. 100
They hem him round—"Behold the proof,"
They cried, "the Ensign in his hand![165]
He did not arm, he walked aloof!
For why?—to save his Father's land;—
Worst Traitor of them all is he, 105
A Traitor dark and cowardly!"