THE BOY OF EGREMOND. "SAY, what remains when Hope is fled?" At Embsay rung the matin-bell, In tartan clad and forest-green, The Boy of Egremond was seen.* * In the twelfth century William Fitz-Duncan laid waste the valleys of Craven with fire and sword; and was afterwards established there by his uncle, David King of Scotland. He was the last of the race; his son, commonly called the Boy of Egremond, dying before him in the manner here related; when a Priory was removed from Embsay to Bolton, that it might be as near as possible to Blithe was his song, a song of yore; That narrow place of noise and strife There now the matin-bell is rung; the place where the accident happened. That place is still known by the name of the Strid: and the mother's answer, as given in the first stanza, is to this day often repeated in Wharfedale. See WHITAKER'S Hist. of Craven. Sit now and answer groan for groan. " WRITTEN IN A SICK CHAMBER. 1793. THERE, in that bed so closely curtained round, He stirs yet still he sleeps. May heavenly dreams Long o'er his smooth and settled pillow rise; Nor fly, till morning thro' the shutter streams, And on the hearth the glimmering rush-light dies. TO .....* Ан! little thought she, when, with wild delight, That in her veins a secret horror slept, That her light footsteps should be heard no more, Yet round her couch indulgent Fancy drew * On the death of her sister. |