Part 14 (2/2)

Their lodging, so the King a.s.sign'd, To Marmion's, as their guardian, join'd; 535 And thus it fell, that, pa.s.sing nigh, The Palmer caught the Abbess' eye, Who warn'd him by a scroll, She had a secret to reveal, That much concern'd the Church's weal, 540 And health of sinner's soul; And, with deep charge of secrecy, She named a place to meet, Within an open balcony, That hung from dizzy pitch, and high, 545 Above the stately street; To which, as common to each home, At night they might in secret come.

XX.

At night, in secret, there they came, The Palmer and the holy dame. 550 The moon among the clouds rose high, And all the city hum was by.

Upon the street, where late before Did din of war and warriors roar, You might have heard a pebble fall, 555 A beetle hum, a cricket sing, An owlet flap his boding wing On Giles's steeple tall.

The antique buildings, climbing high, Whose Gothic frontlets sought the sky, 560 Were here wrapt deep in shade; There on their brows the moon-beam broke, Through the faint wreaths of silvery smoke, And on the cas.e.m.e.nts play'd.

And other light was none to see, 565 Save torches gliding far, Before some chieftain of degree, Who left the royal revelry To bowne him for the war.-- A solemn scene the Abbess chose; 570 A solemn hour, her secret to disclose.

XXI.

'O, holy Palmer!' she began,-- 'For sure he must be sainted man, Whose blessed feet have trod the ground Where the Redeemer's tomb is found,-- 575 For His dear Church's sake, my tale Attend, nor deem of light avail, Though I must speak of worldly love,-- How vain to those who wed above!-- De Wilton and Lord Marmion woo'd 580 Clara de Clare, of Gloster's blood; (Idle it were of Whitby's dame, To say of that same blood I came;) And once, when jealous rage was high, Lord Marmion said despiteously, 585 Wilton was traitor in his heart, And had made league with Martin Swart, When he came here on Simnel's part; And only cowardice did restrain His rebel aid on Stokefield's plain,-- 590 And down he threw his glove:--the thing Was tried, as wont, before the King; Where frankly did De Wilton own, That Swart in Guelders he had known; And that between them then there went 595 Some scroll of courteous compliment.

For this he to his castle sent; But when his messenger return'd, Judge how De Wilton's fury burn'd!

For in his packet there were laid 600 Letters that claim'd disloyal aid, And proved King Henry's cause betray'd.

His fame, thus blighted, in the field He strove to clear, by spear and s.h.i.+eld;-- To clear his fame in vain he strove, 605 For wondrous are His ways above!

Perchance some form was un.o.bserved; Perchance in prayer, or faith, he swerved; Else how could guiltless champion quail, Or how the blessed ordeal fail? 610

XXII.

'His squire, who now De Wilton saw As recreant doom'd to suffer law, Repentant, own'd in vain, That, while he had the scrolls in care, A stranger maiden, pa.s.sing fair, 615 Had drench'd him with a beverage rare; His words no faith could gain.

With Clare alone he credence won, Who, rather than wed Marmion, Did to Saint Hilda's shrine repair, 620 To give our house her livings fair, And die a vestal vot'ress there.

The impulse from the earth was given, But bent her to the paths of heaven.

A purer heart, a lovelier maid, 625 Ne'er shelter'd her in Whitby's shade, No, not since Saxon Edelfled; Only one trace of earthly strain, That for her lover's loss She cherishes a sorrow vain, 630 And murmurs at the cross.- And then her heritage;--it goes Along the banks of Tame; Deep fields of grain the reaper mows, In meadows rich the heifer lows, 635 The falconer and huntsman knows Its woodlands for the game.

Shame were it to Saint Hilda dear, And I, her humble vot'ress here, Should do a deadly sin, 640 Her temple spoil'd before mine eyes, If this false Marmion such a prize By my consent should win; Yet hath our boisterous monarch sworn, That Clare shall from our house be torn; 645 And grievous cause have I to fear, Such mandate doth Lord Marmion bear.

XXIII.

'Now, prisoner, helpless, and betray'd To evil power, I claim thine aid, By every step that thou hast trod 650 To holy shrine and grotto dim, By every martyr's tortured limb, By angel, saint, and seraphim, And by the Church of G.o.d!

For mark:--When Wilton was betray'd, 655 And with his squire forged letters laid, She was, alas! that sinful maid, By whom the deed was done,-- Oh! shame and horror to be said!

She was a perjured nun! 660 No clerk in all the land, like her, Traced quaint and varying character.

Perchance you may a marvel deem, That Marmion's paramour (For such vile thing she was) should scheme 665 Her lover's nuptial hour; But o'er him thus she hoped to gain, As privy to his honour's stain, Illimitable power: For this she secretly retain'd 670 Each proof that might the plot reveal, Instructions with his hand and seal; And thus Saint Hilda deign'd, Through sinners' perfidy impure, Her house's glory to secure, 675 And Clare's immortal weal.

XXIV.

'Twere long, and needless, here to tell, How to my hand these papers fell; With me they must not stay.

Saint Hilda keep her Abbess true! 680 Who knows what outrage he might do, While journeying by the way?-- O, blessed Saint, if e'er again I venturous leave thy calm domain, To travel or by land or main, 685 Deep penance may I pay!-- Now, saintly Palmer, mark my prayer: I give this packet to thy care, For thee to stop they will not dare; And O! with cautious speed, 690 To Wolsey's hand the papers 'bring, That he may show them to the King: And, for thy well-earn'd meed, Thou holy man, at Whitby's shrine A weekly ma.s.s shall still be thine, 695 While priests can sing and read.- What ail'st thou?--Speak!'--For as he took The charge, a strong emotion shook His frame; and, ere reply, They heard a faint, yet shrilly tone, 700 Like distant clarion feebly blown, That on the breeze did die; And loud the Abbess shriek'd in fear, 'Saint Withold, save us!--What is here!

Look at yon City Cross! 705 See on its battled tower appear Phantoms, that scutcheons seem to rear, And blazon'd banners toss!'--

XXV.

Dun-Edin's Cross, a pillar'd stone, Rose on a turret octagon; 710 (But now is razed that monument, Whence royal edict rang, And voice of Scotland's law was sent In glorious trumpet-clang.

O! be his tomb as lead to lead, 715 Upon its dull destroyer's head!-- A minstrel's malison is said.)-- Then on its battlements they saw A vision, pa.s.sing Nature's law, Strange, wild, and dimly seen; 720 Figures that seem'd to rise and die, Gibber and sign, advance and fly, While nought confirm'd could ear or eye Discern of sound or mien.

Yet darkly did it seem, as there 725 Heralds and Pursuivants prepare, With trumpet sound, and blazon fair, A summons to proclaim; But indistinct the pageant proud, As fancy forms of midnight cloud, 730 When flings the moon upon her shroud A wavering tinge of flame; It flits, expands, and s.h.i.+fts, till loud, From midmost of the spectre crowd, This awful summons came:-- 735

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