Back in a heap the menials drew;
Yet, even in mortal terror true,

The ir pale and startled group oppose 750
Bet ween Matilda and the foes.

'O, haste thee, Wilfrid !' Redmond cried;
"Undo that wicket by thy side!
Bear hence Matilda - gain the wood
The pass may be awhile made good-
Thy band ere this must sure be nigh-
O speak not-dally not - but fly!'
While yet the crowd their motions hide,
Through the low wicket door they glide.
Through vaulted passages they wind,
In Gothic intricacy twined;
Wil frid half led and half he bore
Matilda to the postern door,
And safe beneath the forest tree,
The lady stands at liberty.

760

The moonbeams, the fresh gale's caress, Ren ewed suspended consciousness; Were's Redmond ?' eagerly she cries: The ou answer'st not he dies! he dies! thou hast left him all bereft

And

Of

ortal aid with murderers left!

770

XXX

779

The unjust reproach, the angry look,
The heart of Wilfrid could not brook.
'Lady,' he said, 'my band so near,
In safety thou mayst rest thee here.
For Redmond's death thou shalt not mourn,
If mine can buy his safe return.'
He turned away
his heart throbbed high,
The tear was bursting from his eye;
The sense of her injustice pressed
Upon the maid's distracted breast,
Stay, Wilfrid, stay! all aid is vain !'
He heard but turned him not again!
He reaches now the postern door,
Now enters - and is seen no more.

XXXI

With all the agony that e'er
Was gendered 'twixt suspense and fear,
She watched the line of windows tall
Whose Gothic lattice lights the Hall,
Distinguished by the paly red
The lamps in dim reflection shed,
While all beside in wan moonlight
Each grated casement glimmered white.
No sight of harm, no sound of ill,
It is a deep and midnight still.
Who looked upon the scene had guessed
All in the castle were at rest-

When sudden on the windows shone
A lightning flash just seen and gone!
A shot is heard again the flame
Flashed thick and fast

790

799

- a volley came ! Then echoed wildly from within Of shout and scream the mingled din, And weapon-clash and maddening cry, Of those who kill and those who die!. As filled the hall with sulphurous smoke, More red, more dark, the death-flash broke, And forms were on the lattice cast That struck or struggled as they past.

XXXII

What sounds upon the midnight wind
Approach so rapidly behind?
It is, it is, the tramp of steeds,
Matilda hears the sound, she speeds,
Seizes upon the leader's rein-
'O, haste to aid ere aid be vain!

812

860

As thick a smoke these hearths have given
At Hallow-tide or Christmas-even.
Stand to it yet renew the fight
For Rokeby's and Matilda's right!
These slaves! they dare not hand to hand
Bide buffet from a true man's brand.'
Impetuous, active, fierce, and young,
Upon the advancing foes he sprung.
Woe to the wretch at whom is bent
His brandished falchion's sheer descent!
Backward they scattered as he came,
Like wolves before the levin flame,
When, mid their howling conclave driven,
Hath glanced the thunderbolt of heaven.
Bertram rushed on - but Harpool clasped
His knees, although in death he gasped,
His falling corpse before him flung,
And round the trammelled ruffian clung.

Just then the soldiers filled the dome, 870
And shouting charged the felons home
So fiercely that in panic dread

They broke, they yielded, fell, or fled,
Bertram's stern voice they heed no more,
Though heard above the battle's roar;
While, trampling down the dying man,
He strove with volleyed threat and ban
In scorn of odds, in fate's despite,
To rally up the desperate fight.

XXXIV

88c

Soon murkier clouds the hall enfold
Than e'er from battle-thunders rolled,
So dense the combatants scarce know
To aim or to avoid the blow.
Smothering and blindfold grows the
fight-

But soon shall dawn a dismal light!
Mid cries and clashing arms there came
The hollow sound of rushing flame;
New horrors on the tumult dire
Arise the castle is on fire!

Doubtful if chance had cast the brand 890
Or frantic Bertram's desperate hand,
Matilda saw for frequent broke

From the dim casements gusts of smoke,
Yon tower, which late so clear defined
On the fair hemisphere reclined
That, pencilled on its azure pure,
The eye could count each embrasure,
Now, swathed within the sweeping cloud,
Seems giant-spectre in his shroud;
Till, from each loop-hole flashing light, 900
A spout of fire shines ruddy bright,
And, gathering to united glare,
Streams high into the midnight air;
A dismal beacon, far and wide
That wakened Greta's slumbering side.
Soon all beneath, through gallery long
And pendent arch, the fire flashed strong,
Snatching whatever could maintain,
Raise, or extend its furious reign;
Startling with closer cause of dread
The females who the conflict fled,
And now rushed forth upon the plain,
Filling the air with clamiors vain.

XXXV

But ceased not yet the hall within
The shriek, the shout, the carnage-din,
Till bursting lattices give proof
The flames have caught the raftered roof
What! wait they till its beams amain
Crash on the slayers and the slain?

910

940

And where is Bertram? - Soaring high, The general flame ascends the sky; In gathered group the soldiers gaze Upon the broad and roaring blaze, When, like infernal demon, sent Red from his penal element, To plague and to pollute the air, His face all gore, on fire his hair, Forth from the central mass of smoke The giant form of Bertram broke ! His brandished sword on high he rears, Then plunged among opposing spears; Round his left arm his mantle trussed, Received and foiled three lances' thrust; Nor these his headlong course withstood, Like reeds he snapped the tough ashwood. In vain his foes around him clung; With matchless force aside he flung Their boldest, as the bull at bay Tosses the ban-dogs from his way, Through forty foes his path he made, And safely gained the forest glade.

950

960

The ready palfreys stood arrayed
For Redmond and for Rokeby's maid;
Two Wilfrid on his horse sustain,
One leads his charger by the rein.
But oft Matilda looked behind,
As up the vale of Tees they wind,
Where far the mansion of her sires
Beaconed the dale with midnight fires.
In gloomy arch above them spread,
The clouded heaven lowered bloody red;
Beneath in sombre light the flood
Appeared to roll in waves of blood.
Then one by one was heard to fall
The tower, the donjon-keep, the hall.
Each rushing down with thunder sound
A space the conflagration drowned;
Till gathering strength again it rose,
Announced its triumph in its close,
Shook wide its light the landscape o'er,
Then sunk and Rokeby was no more!

CANTO SIXTH

I

THE summer sun, whose early power Was wont to gild Matilda's bower And rouse her with his matin ray Her duteous orisons to pay,

974

98a

That morning sun has three times seen
The flowers unfold on Rokeby green,
But sees no more the slumbers fly
From fair Matilda's hazel eye;
That morning sun has three times broke
On Rokeby's glades of elm and oak,
But, rising from their sylvan screen,
Marks no gray turrets glance between.
A shapeless mass lie keep and tower,
That, hissing to the morning shower,
Can but with smouldering vapor pay
The early smile of summer day.
The peasant, to his labor bound,
Pauses to view the blackened mound,
Striving amid the ruined space
Each well-remembered spot to trace.
That length of frail and fire-scorched wall
Once screened the hospitable hall;
When yonder broken arch was whole,
'T was there was dealt the weekly dole;
And where yon tottering columns nod
The chapel sent the hymn to God.
So flits the world's uncertain span
Nor zeal for God nor love for man
Gives mortal monuments a date
Beyond the power of Time and Fate.

!

20

30

ears,

Or prowling by the moonbeam cool
Watches the stream or swims the pool;-
Perched on his wonted eyrie high,
Sleep sealed the tercelet's wearied eye,
That all the day had watched so well
The cushat dart across the dell.
In dubious beam reflected shone
That lofty cliff of pale gray stone
Beside whose base the secret cave
To rapine late a refuge gave.
The crag's wild crest of copse and yew
On Greta's breast dark shadows threw,
Shadows that met or shunned the sight
With every change of fitful light,
As hope and fear alternate chase
Our course through life's uncertain race.

III

Gliding by crag and copsewood green, A solitary form was seen

To trace with stealthy pace the wold.
Like fox that seeks the midnight fold,
And pauses oft, and cowers dismayed
At every breath that stirs the shade.
He passes now the ivy bush,-
The owl has seen him and is hush;
He passes now the doddered oak,
He heard the startled raven croak;
Lower and lower he descends,
Rustle the leaves, the brushwood bends;
The otter hears him tread the shore,
And dives and is beheld no more;
And by the cliff of pale gray stone
The midnight wanderer stands alone.
Methinks that by the moon we trace
A well-remembered form and face!

50

60

70

80

That stripling shape, that cheek so pale, Combine to tell a rueful tale, Of powers misused, of passion's force, Of guilt, of grief, and of remorse ! 'Tis Edmund's eye at every sound That flings that guilty glance around; 'Tis Edmund's trembling haste divides The brushwood that the cavern hides; And when its narrow porch lies bare "T is Edmund's form that enters there. 90

IV

108

His flint and steel have sparkled bright,
A lamp hath lent the cavern light.
Fearful and quick his eye surveys
Each angle of the gloomy maze.
Since last he left that stern abode,
It seemed as none its floor had trode;
Untouched appeared the various spoil,
The purchase of his comrades' toil;
Masks and disguises grimed with mud,
Arms broken and defiled with blood,
And all the nameless tools that aid
Night-felons in their lawless trade,
Upon the gloomy walls were hung
Or lay in nooks obscurely flung.
Still on the sordid board appear
The relics of the noontide cheer:
Flagons and emptied flasks were there,
And bench o'erthrown and shattered chair;
And all around the semblance showed,
As when the final revel glowed,
When the red sun was setting fast
And parting pledge Guy Denzil past.
'To Rokeby treasure vaults!' they
quaffed,

And shouted loud and wildly laughed,
Poured maddening from the rocky door,
And parted to return no more!
They found in Rokeby vaults their doom,--
A bloody death, a burning tomb!

Fear not!' he said; but who could hear

That deep stern voice and cease to fear?

160

'Fear not!- By heaven, he shakes as much As partridge in the falcon's clutch:' He raised him and unloosed his hold, While from the opening casket rolled A chain and reliquaire of gold. Bertram beheld it with surprise, Gazed on its fashion and device, Then, cheering Edmund as he could, Somewhat he smoothed his rugged mood, For still the youth's half-lifted eye Quivered with terror's agony, And sidelong glanced as to explore In meditated flight the door. 'Sit,' Bertram said, 'from danger free: Thou canst not and thou shalt not flee. Chance brings me hither; hill and plain I've sought for refuge-place in vain.

170