Some will whisper that her soul,

Ne'er can reach the blessed goal,-
For her vow was all unwilling,

A father's promise but fulfilling.

And I have mark'd-" "Cease, father cease,

And let her spirit rest in peace :—

But what her name ? quick-let me hear.”

66

Stranger, the Nun was Agnes Vere!"

Some moments are so full of woe,

So fraught with feeling's bitter pain,
The very tears refuse to flow :—

But pressing on the throbbing brain
Come whelming sorrows dark and dire,
With deep regrets that ne'er expire!→
Surprise, and grief, and wild despair,
Were written in the pilgrim's air,-
His palmer's cap, with scallop shell,
Quickly upon the ground he threw,-
"Oh, lady mine, farewell,-farewell!
My fairest-best—a long adieu !
A spirit bright beyond the sky,
I know will be thy destiny,

PART NINTH.

But thou hast left, for ever left,
Thy Percy of all joy bereft!
Henceforth to me a lovely dream,
Fair spirit, will thy memory seem-

A star that cheer'd my darkening day,
A vision bright, that pass'd away,
A transient, unforgotten ray!
And now a weary lot is mine,
Thy grave shall be my only shrine:
For thee a palmer's weeds I wore,
My love's sad pilgrimage is o'er!
Wonder not, Friar, at my woe,

My heart's best treasure lies below:--
A fonder heart did never break.

But, Friar, language is too weak,

To tell how good, and true, and fair,
Was the cold sleeper buried there!
But rest in peace, thou broken flower,
Victim to superstition's power!
Henceforth my stormy path will be,
Far, far, my buried one, from thee!

But deeply in my soul shall dwell,
Thy memory, love :-Farewell! farewell!"

55

PART TENTH.

"Ha!

Said he young Harry Percy's spur was cold?’*

"Yet, for all this say not that Percy's dead."

HENRY IV.

TIME steals away the tender hue,

That rested on life's opening dawn,
When the clear sky seem'd ever blue:
Alas! how soon upon that morn,
Comes the high noon of toil and strife,—
The bustle and the care of life;

And on that hard and beaten way,

The rosy hues of life decay!

Years roll'd along, Lord Percy's name,

Was foremost in the ranks of fame

A warrior bold and stern ;—

Who still where danger threaten'd, stood..
Of generous, but of changeful mood,-

Observers might discern,

A reckless daring, as if life

Return'd no charm,-the battle's strife

PART TENTH.

Relieved the secret woe

The lurking memory, or whate'er

It was, that mark'd his noble brow

With the sad look that mourners wear!

The sanguine Rose was proudly waving
In many a crest on Humbria's shore,
The Yorkists all their strength were saving
To meet on Bramham Moor.
Northumberland his legion draws,
Once more to aid a falling cause;
And Baron bold, and armed Knight,
Were mustering ready for the fight.
From many a moated castle tower,

Forth issuing with his vassal train,
Came the brave Chief, in pomp and power.
Ne'er to return again!

The draw-bridge echo'd to their feet,

And gaily pranced their coursers fleet,
And loud the trumpet rang!
Alas! Alas! time slowly sheds,
Oblivion on their dusty beds;

In place of armour's clang,

57

The lonely birds of night complain,

Where ruin holds a silent reign!

And Percy had his plighted vow

To Mortimer's young sister given

A gentler lady, not below

The ambient arch of heaven.

She saw him march from Alnwick's towers,

And muster all his warlike powers,

And wav'd her last adieu !

As winding far away she saw,

The warrior train from sight withdraw.

But when shut out from view,

Long, long she wept, and felt that ne'er,
Had Harry Percy been so dear.

And cheerly, cheerly, their bugles rang
Through the old woods that morn,
Rousing the lark, who upward sprang
On floating zephyr borne.

But victory crown'd their haughty foes,
And scatter'd wide dismay,