Part 12

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!"

"I am no Traitor," Francis said, "Though this unhappy freight I bear; And must not part with. But beware;-- Err not, by hasty zeal misled,[166] 110 Nor do a suffering Spirit wrong, Whose self-reproaches are too strong!" At this he from the beaten road Retreated towards a brake of thorn, That[167] like a place of vantage showed; 115 And there stood bravely, though forlorn. In self-defence with warlike brow[168] He stood,--nor weaponless was now; He from a Soldier's hand had snatched A spear,--and, so protected, watched 120 The Assailants, turning round and round; But from behind with treacherous wound A Spearman brought him to the ground. The guardian lance, as Francis fell, Dropped from him; but his other hand 125 The Banner clenched; till, from out the Band, One, the most eager for the prize, Rushed in; and--while, O grief to tell! A glimmering sense still left, with eyes Unclosed the noble Francis lay-- 130 Seized it, as hunters seize their prey; But not before the warm life-blood Had tinged more deeply, as it flowed, The wounds the broidered Banner showed, Thy fatal work, O Maiden, innocent as good![169] 135

Proudly the Horsemen bore away The Standard; and where Francis lay[170] There was he left alone, unwept, And for two days unnoticed slept. For at that time bewildering fear 140 Possessed the country, far and near; But, on the third day, passing by One of the Norton Tenantry Espied the uncovered Corse; the Man Shrunk as he recognised the face, 145 And to the nearest homesteads ran And called the people to the place. --How desolate is Rylstone-hall! This was the instant thought of all; And if the lonely Lady there 150 Should be; to her they cannot bear This weight of anguish and despair. So, when upon sad thoughts had prest Thoughts sadder still, they deemed it best That, if the Priest should yield assent 155 And no one hinder their intent,[171] Then, they, for Christian pity's sake, In holy ground a grave would make; And straightway[172] buried he should be In the Church-yard of the Priory. 160

Apart, some little space, was made The grave where Francis must be laid. In no confusion or neglect This did they,--but in pure respect That he was born of gentle blood; 165 And that there was no neighbourhood Of kindred for him in that ground: So to the Church-yard they are bound, Bearing the body on a bier; And psalms they sing--a holy sound 170 That hill and vale with sadness hear.[173]

But Emily hath raised her head, And is again disquieted; She must behold!--so many gone, Where is the solitary One? 175 And forth from Rylstone-hall stepped she, To seek her Brother forth she went, And tremblingly her course she bent Toward[174] Bolton's ruined Priory. She comes, and in the vale hath heard 180 The funeral dirge;--she sees the knot Of people, sees them in one spot-- And darting like a wounded bird She reached the grave, and with her breast Upon the ground received the rest,-- 185 The consummation, the whole ruth And sorrow of this final truth!

CANTO SEVENTH

"Powers there are That touch each other to the quick--in modes Which the gross world no sense hath to perceive, No soul to dream of."[OO]

Thou Spirit, whose angelic hand Was to the harp a strong command, Called the submissive strings to wake In glory for this Maiden's sake, Say, Spirit! whither hath she fled 5 To hide her poor afflicted head? What mighty forest in its gloom Enfolds her?--is a rifted tomb Within the wilderness her seat? Some island which the wild waves beat-- 10 Is that the Sufferer's last retreat? Or some aspiring rock, that shrouds Its perilous front in mists and clouds? High-climbing rock, low[175] sunless dale, Sea, desert, what do these avail? 15 Oh take her anguish and her fears Into a deep[176] recess of years!

'Tis done;--despoil and desolation O'er Rylstone's fair domain have blown;[PP] Pools, terraces, and walks are sown[177] 20 With weeds; the bowers are overthrown, Or have given way to slow mutation, While, in their ancient habitation The Norton name hath been unknown. The lordly Mansion of its pride 25 Is stripped; the ravage hath spread wide Through park and field, a perishing That mocks the gladness of the Spring! And, with this silent gloom agreeing, Appears[178] a joyless human Being, 30 Of aspect such as if the waste Were under her dominion placed. Upon a primrose bank, her throne Of quietness, she sits alone; [179]Among the ruins of a wood, 35 Erewhile a covert bright and green, And where full many a brave tree stood, That used to spread its boughs, and ring With the sweet bird's carolling. Behold her, like a virgin Queen, 40 Neglecting in imperial state These outward images of fate, And carrying inward a serene And perfect sway, through many a thought Of chance and change, that hath been brought 45 To the subjection of a holy, Though stern and rigorous, melancholy! The like authority, with grace Of awfulness, is in her face,-- There hath she fixed it; yet it seems 50 To o'ershadow by no native right That face, which cannot lose the gleams, Lose utterly the tender gleams, Of gentleness and meek delight, And loving-kindness ever bright: 55 Such is her sovereign mien:--her dress (A vest with woollen cincture tied, A hood of mountain-wool undyed) Is homely,--fashioned to express A wandering Pilgrim's humbleness. 60

And she _hath_ wandered, long and far, Beneath the light of sun and star; Hath roamed in trouble and in grief, Driven forward like a withered leaf, Yea like a ship at random blown 65 To distant places and unknown. But now she dares to seek a haven Among her native wilds of Craven; Hath seen again her Father's roof, And put her fortitude to proof; 70 The mighty sorrow hath[180] been borne, And she is thoroughly forlorn: Her soul doth in itself stand fast, Sustained by memory of the past And strength of Reason; held above 75 The infirmities of mortal love; Undaunted, lofty, calm, and stable, And awfully impenetrable.

And so--beneath a mouldered tree, A self-surviving leafless oak 80 By unregarded age from stroke Of ravage saved--sate Emily. There did she rest, with head reclined, Herself most like a stately flower, (Such have I seen) whom chance of birth 85 Hath separated from its kind, To live and die in a shady bower, Single on the gladsome earth.

When, with a noise like distant thunder, A troop of deer came sweeping by; 90 And, suddenly, behold a wonder! For One, among those rushing deer,[181] A single One, in mid career Hath stopped, and fixed her[182] large full eye Upon the Lady Emily; 95 A Doe most beautiful, clear-white, A radiant creature, silver-bright!

Thus checked, a little while it stayed; A little thoughtful pause it made; And then advanced with stealth-like pace, 100 Drew softly near her, and more near-- Looked round--but saw no cause for fear; So to her feet the Creature came,[183] And laid its head upon her knee, And looked into the Lady's face, 105 A look of pure benignity, And fond unclouded memory. It is, thought Emily, the same, The very Doe of other years!-- The pleading look the Lady viewed, 110 And, by her gushing thoughts subdued, She melted into tears-- A flood of tears, that flowed apace, Upon the happy Creature's face.

Oh, moment ever blest! O Pair 115 Beloved of Heaven, Heaven's chosen[184] care, This was for you a precious greeting; And may it prove a fruitful meeting![185] Joined are they, and the sylvan Doe Can she depart? can she forego 120 The Lady, once her playful peer, And now her sainted Mistress dear? And will not Emily receive This lovely chronicler of things Long past, delights and sorrowings? 125 Lone Sufferer! will not she believe The promise in that speaking face; And welcome, as a gift of grace,[186] The saddest thought the Creature brings?[187]

That day, the first of a re-union 130 Which was to teem with high communion, That day of balmy April weather, They tarried in the wood together. And when, ere fall of evening dew, She from her[188] sylvan haunt withdrew, 135 The White Doe tracked with faithful pace The Lady to her dwelling-place; That nook where, on paternal ground, A habitation she had found, The Master of whose humble board 140 Once owned her Father for his Lord; A hut, by tufted trees defended, Where Rylstone brook with Wharf is blended.[QQ]

When Emily by morning light Went forth, the Doe stood there[189] in sight. 145 She shrunk:--with one frail shock of pain Received and followed by a prayer, She saw the Creature once again;[190] Shun will she not, she feels, will bear;-- But, wheresoever she looked round, 150 All now was trouble-haunted ground; And therefore now she deems it good Once more this restless neighbourhood[191] To leave. Unwooed, yet unforbidden, The White Doe followed up the vale, 155 Up to another cottage, hidden In the deep fork of Amerdale;[RR] And there may Emily restore Herself, in spots unseen before. --Why tell of mossy rock, or tree, 160 By lurking Dernbrook's pathless side,[SS] Haunts of a strengthening amity That calmed her, cheered, and fortified? For she hath ventured now to read Of time, and place, and thought, and deed-- 165 Endless history that lies In her silent Follower's eyes; Who with a power like human reason Discerns the favourable season, Skilled to approach or to retire,-- 170 From looks conceiving her desire; From look, deportment, voice, or mien, That vary to the heart within. If she too passionately wreathed[192] Her arms, or over-deeply breathed, 175 Walked quick or slowly, every mood In its degree was understood; Then well may their accord be true, And kindliest[193] intercourse ensue. --Oh! surely 'twas a gentle rousing 180 When she by sudden glimpse espied The White Doe on the mountain browsing, Or in the meadow wandered wide! How pleased, when down the Straggler sank Beside her, on some sunny bank! 185 How soothed, when in thick bower enclosed, They, like a nested pair, reposed! Fair Vision! when it crossed the Maid Within some rocky cavern laid, The dark cave's portal gliding by, 190 White as whitest[194] cloud on high Floating through the[195] azure sky. --What now is left for pain or fear? That Presence, dearer and more dear, While they, side by side, were straying, 195 And the shepherd's pipe was playing, Did now a very gladness yield At morning to the dewy field,[196] And with a deeper peace endued The hour of moonlight solitude. 200

With her Companion, in such frame Of mind, to Rylstone back she came; And, ranging[197] through the wasted groves, Received the memory of old loves, Undisturbed and undistrest, 205 Into a soul which now was blest With a soft spring-day of holy, Mild, and grateful, melancholy:[198] Not sunless gloom or unenlightened, But by tender fancies brightened. 210

When the bells of Rylstone played Their sabbath music--"=God us ayde!="[TT] That was the sound they seemed to speak; Inscriptive legend which I ween May on those holy bells be seen, 215 That legend and her Grandsire's name; And oftentimes the Lady meek Had in her childhood read the same; Words which she slighted at that day; But now, when such sad change was wrought, 220 And of that lonely name she thought, The bells of Rylstone seemed to say, While she sate listening in the shade, With vocal music, "=God us ayde;=" And all the hills were glad to bear 225 Their part in this effectual prayer.

Nor lacked she Reason's firmest power; But with the White Doe at her side Up would she climb to Norton Tower, And thence look round her far and wide, 230 Her fate there measuring;--all is stilled,-- The weak One hath subdued her heart;[199] Behold the prophecy fulfilled, Fulfilled, and she sustains her part! But here her Brother's words have failed; 235 Here hath a milder doom prevailed; That she, of him and all bereft, Hath yet this faithful Partner left; This one Associate[200] that disproves His words, remains for her, and loves. 240 If tears are shed, they do not fall For loss of him--for one, or all; Yet, sometimes, sometimes doth she weep Moved gently in her soul's soft sleep; A few tears down her cheek descend 245 For this her last and living Friend.

Bless, tender Hearts, their mutual lot, And bless for both this savage spot; Which Emily doth sacred hold For reasons dear and manifold-- 250 Here hath she, here before her sight, Close to the summit of this height, The grassy rock-encircled Pound[UU] In which the Creature first was found. So beautiful the timid Thrall 255 (A spotless Youngling white as foam) Her youngest Brother brought it home; The youngest, then a lusty boy, Bore it, or led, to Rylstone-hall With heart brimful of pride and joy![201] 260

But most to Bolton's sacred Pile, On favouring nights, she loved to go; There ranged through cloister, court, and aisle, Attended by the soft-paced Doe; Nor feared she in the still moonshine[202] 265 To look upon Saint Mary's shrine;[VV] Nor on the lonely turf that showed Where Francis slept in his last abode. For that she came; there oft she sate Forlorn, but not disconsolate:[203] 270 And, when she from the abyss returned Of thought, she neither shrunk nor mourned; Was happy that she lived to greet Her mute Companion as it lay In love and pity at her feet; 275 How happy in its[204] turn to meet The[205] recognition! the mild glance Beamed from that gracious countenance; Communication, like the ray Of a new morning, to the nature 280 And prospects of the inferior Creature!

A mortal Song we sing,[206] by dower Encouraged of celestial power; Power which the viewless Spirit shed By whom we were first visited; 285 Whose voice we heard, whose hand and wings Swept like a breeze the conscious strings, When, left in solitude, erewhile We stood before this ruined Pile, And, quitting unsubstantial dreams, 290 Sang in this Presence kindred themes; Distress and desolation spread Through human hearts, and pleasure dead,-- Dead--but to live again on earth, A second and yet nobler birth; 295 Dire overthrow, and yet how high The re-ascent in sanctity! From fair to fairer; day by day A more divine and loftier way! Even such this blessèd Pilgrim trod, 300 By sorrow lifted towards her God; Uplifted to the purest sky Of undisturbed mortality. Her own thoughts loved she; and could bend A dear look to her lowly Friend; 305 There stopped; her thirst was satisfied With what this innocent spring supplied: Her sanction inwardly she bore, And stood apart from human cares: But to the world returned no more, 310 Although with no unwilling mind Help did she give at need, and joined The Wharfdale peasants in their prayers. At length, thus faintly, faintly tied To earth, she was set free, and died. 315 Thy soul, exalted Emily, Maid of the blasted family, Rose to the God from whom it came! --In Rylstone Church her mortal frame Was buried by her Mother's side. 320

Most glorious sunset! and a ray Survives--the twilight of this day-- In that fair Creature whom the fields Support, and whom the forest shields; Who, having filled a holy place, 325 Partakes, in her degree, Heaven's grace; And bears a memory and a mind Raised far above the law of kind;[WW] Haunting the spots with lonely cheer Which her dear Mistress once held dear: 330 Loves most what Emily loved most-- The enclosure of this church-yard ground; Here wanders like a gliding ghost, And every sabbath here is found; Comes with the people when the bells 335 Are heard among the moorland dells, Finds entrance through yon arch, where way Lies open on the sabbath-day; Here walks amid the mournful waste Of prostrate altars, shrines defaced, 340 And floors encumbered with rich show Of fret-work imagery laid low; Paces softly, or makes halt, By fractured cell, or tomb, or vault; By plate of monumental brass 345 Dim-gleaming among weeds and grass, And sculptured Forms of Warriors brave: But chiefly by that single grave, That one sequestered hillock green, The pensive visitant is seen. 350 There doth the gentle Creature lie With those adversities unmoved; Calm spectacle, by earth and sky In their benignity approved! And aye, methinks, this hoary Pile, 355 Subdued by outrage and decay, Looks down upon her with a smile, A gracious smile, that seems to say-- "Thou, thou art not a Child of Time, But Daughter of the Eternal Prime!" 360

The following is the full text of the first "note" to _The White Doe of Rylstone_, published in the quarto edition of 1815. The other notes to that edition are printed in this, at the foot of the pages where they occur:--

"The Poem of _The White Doe of Rylstone_ is founded on a local tradition, and on the Ballad in Percy's Collection, entitled _The Rising of the North_. The tradition is as follows: 'About this time,' not long after the Dissolution, 'a White Doe, say the aged people of the neighbourhood, long continued to make a weekly pilgrimage from Rylstone over the fells of Bolton, and was constantly found in the Abbey Church-yard during divine service; after the close of which she returned home as regularly as the rest of the congregation.'--Dr. WHITAKER'S _History of the Deanery of Craven_.--Rylstone was the property and residence of the Nortons, distinguished in that ill-advised and unfortunate Insurrection, which led me to connect with this tradition the principal circumstances of their fate, as recorded in the Ballad which I have thought it proper to annex.

_The Rising in the North._

"The subject of this ballad is the great Northern Insurrection in the 12th year of Elizabeth, 1569, which proved so fatal to Thomas Percy, the seventh Earl of Northumberland.