A woeful place was that, I ween,

As sorrow could desire,

For nodding to the fall was each crumbling wall,
And the roof was scathed with fire.

It fell upon a summer's eve,

While on Carnethy's head

The last faint gleams of the sun's low beams
Had streaked the gray with red;

And the convent-bell did of vespers tell

Newbattle's oaks among;

And mingled with the solemn knell,
Our Lady's evening-song:

The heavy knell-the choir's faint swell,
Came slowly down the wind;
And on the pilgrim's ear they fell,
As his wonted path he did find.

Deep sunk in thought, I ween, he was,
Nor ever raised his eye,

Until he came to that dreary place

Which did all in ruins lie.

He gazed on the walls, so scathed with fire,

With many a bitter groan;

And there was aware of a Gray Friar,*

Resting him on a stone.

"Now Christ thee save! (said the Gray Brother),

Some pilgrim thou seem'st to be"

But in sore amaze, did Lord Albert gaze,

Nor answer again made he.

* The crime attributed to the Chief, was that of treacherously setting fire to a mansion in the night, and preventing all succour, by which means the whole of the inhabitants miserably perished. We may, therefore, suppose that the author intends this friar to represent some one of the murdered persons.-ED.

"O, come ye from east, or come ye from west,

Or bring relics from over the sea?

Or, come ye from the shrine of St. James the Divine, Or St. John of Beverly?"

"I come not from the shrine of St. James the Divine ; Nor bring relics from over the sea

I bring but a curse, from our father the Pope,
Which for ever will cling to thee."

"Now, woeful pilgrim, say not so,
But kneel thee down by me;

And shrive thee so clean of thy deadly sin,
That absolved thou mayst be."

"And who art thou, thou Gray Brother!

That I should shrive to thee?

When He, to whom are given the keys of earth and heaven, Hath no power to pardon me!"

"O, I am sent from a distant clime,
Five thousand miles away!

And all to absolve a foul-foul crime,
Done here 'twixt night and day."

The pilgrim kneeled him on the sand,
And thus began his say:

When on his neck an ice-cold hand

Did that Gray Brother lay.

BORDER MINSTRELSY.

THE FATAL HORSE.*

BY W. HAYLEY.

OF creatures that to man attend,
His pastime or his wealth;
The Horse we cherish as a friend
To sickness and to health.

Bless'd they who shield a steed from woe,

By age from toil released!

And hated be the proud, who shew

No mercy to their beast!

A wretch once doomed, though rich and strong,

His faithful horse to bleed;

But tell his fate, my moral song,

For that atrocious deed!

A Kentish Knight of ancient race;
Of his athletic frame,

Prone to indulge the passions fell,

Sir Geoffrin his name,

* In some parish on the Kentish coast, of which the Editor regrets to have forgotten the name, (it will probably be found in "Lambard's Perambulation," or a County History), there has been found a tradition, corresponding in some measure with this ballad. In the church, on an altar-tomb, is the recumbent effigy of a Knight, having a horse's head carved by his side, which is confessedly not a crest; a similar emblem is seen in other parts of the church; and the vane on the tower, which is very ancient, represents the same figure. From these circumstances, it is familiarly called in the vicinity, the Horse-Church.-ED.

Against a priest indulged his rage,
Who charitably good,

To shield a widow's helpless age,

His avarice withstood.

With abject choler, fierce and hot,
The knight perforce would gain,
And blend her little garden-plot
With his superb domain.

The priest, who, on that very ground,
To soothe his wrath would strive,
In frantic passion's fit he bound,
And buried him alive!

The wretch was seized with shame and fear,
Though he his crime would boast;
When suddenly he chanced to hear,
His King lay off the coast.

'T was gallant Harold, in that day
Elate with regal power;
Becalmed his stately vessel lay,

Near Geoffrin's high tower.

The royal mercy to surprise,

He now resolves with speed; "Haste, hither bring (he wildly cries), My strongest, favourite steed."

It was a steed of noblest kind

In spirit and in limb,

On which the desperate knight designed
To the king's ship to swim!

Now by the swelling ocean's side,

He mounts his courser brave!

Spurs him with domineering pride,
And plunges in the wave!

Used to his bold caprices oft,
And equal to his weight,

The courser tossed his mane aloft,
And swam with breast elate.

The knight now flourishes his sword,
As near the ship he draws;

The wondrous sight strikes all on board,
Who throng to find the cause.

The sailors round their Sovereign crowd,
Who, on the vessel's stern,

Now hails the knight's approach aloud,
Eager his aim to learn.

"Provoked by villains, one I slew,

And own him rashly slain;

Hence to thy clemency I flew,

My pardon to obtain!"

Now, by St. George! thou venturous Knight,

Thy steed hath nobly done;

Swim back, and pardon make thee light,

Thy pardon he has won!"

The knight now with a joyous spring,
His horse's neck embraced;

Then, blessing thrice his gracious King,
He steered him back in haste.

Now, as he touched his native sand,

And near his castle gate,
He saw the weeping widow stand,

And mocked her mournful state.

Woman, thy threats touch me no more,
I ride on safety's wing:

My brave horse brings me safe to shore,
With pardon from my king!"