Say, in what distant star to dwell? Far happier thou! 'twas thine to soar, Thy triumphs who shall dare explore? * Mrs. Sheridan's. "SAY, what remains when Hope is fled?" At Embsay rung the matin-bell, The stag was roused on Barden-fell; When near the cabin in the wood, With hound in leash and hawk in hood, His voice was heard no more! 'Twas but a step! the gulf he passed; As through the mist he winged his way, That narrow place of noise and strife There now the matin-bell is rung; The "Miserere!" duly sung; Thou didst not shudder when the sword * 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 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. BB |