The vow, in Kenworth's glorious field,
This gallant Earl did pay;
When Alfred's better star prevailed,

And England had her day:

That day-the Dane full dearly paid
The price of lovers' blood!
That day-in Hubba's cloven helm
The Saxon jav'lin stood.

The bodies of the hapless three,
A single grave contains;
And in the choir, with dirges due,
Repose their cold remains.

Lord Ardolph, on his children's tomb,
Inscribed the' applauding verse;
And long the monks, in Gothic rhymes,
Their story did rehearse.

And often, pointing to the skies,

The cloistered maids would cry-

"To those bright realms, in bloom of youth, Did Athelgiva fly!"

EVANS.

THE HERMIT OF WARKWORTH.

A Northumberland Ballad.

BY BISHOP PERCY.

DARK was the night, and wild the storm,

And loud the torrent's roar;

And loud the sea was heard to dash
Against the distant shore.

Musing on man's weak hapless state,

The lonely hermit lay;

When, lo! he heard a female voice
Lament in sore dismay.

With hospitable haste he rose,

And waked his sleeping fire;

And snatching up a lighted brand,
Forth hied the reverend sire.

All sad beneath a neighbouring tree,
A beauteous maid he found;

Who beat her breast, and with her tears
Bedewed the mossy ground.

"O weep not, lady! weep not so;

Nor let vain fears alarm;

My little cell shall shelter thee,

And keep thee safe from harm."

"It is not for myself I weep,

Nor for myself I fear;

But for my dear and only friend,

Who lately left me here:

"And while some sheltering bower he sought

Within this lonely wood,

Ah! sore I fear his wandering feet

Have slipped in yonder flood."

"Oh! trust in Heaven (the Hermit said),

And to my cell repair ;

Doubt not but I shall find thy friend,

And ease thee of thy care."

Then climbing up his rocky stairs,
He scales the cliff so high;
And calls aloud, and waves his light,
To guide the stranger's eye.

Among the thickets long he winds,
With careful steps and slow;
At length a voice returned his call,
Quick answering from below:

"O tell me, father, tell me true,

If

you have chanced to see A gentle maid, I lately left

Beneath some neighbouring tree:

"But I have either lost the place,

Or she hath gone astray;
And much I fear this fatal stream

Hath snatched her hence away."

"Praise heaven, my son! (the Hermit said),

"The lady's safe and well:"

And soon he joined the wandering youth,
And brought him to his cell.

Then well was seen these gentle friends,
They loved each other dear:

The youth he pressed her to his heart;
The maid let fall a tear.

Ah! seldom had their host, I ween,
Beheld so sweet a pair :-

The youth was tall, with manly bloom
She slender, soft, and fair.

The youth was clad in forest green,
With bugle-horn so bright;—
She in a silken robe and scarf,
Snatched up in hasty flight.

"Sit down, my children, (says the Sage);
"Sweet rest your limbs require :"
Then heaps fresh fuel on the hearth,
And mends his little fire.

"Partake (he said), my simple store,
Dried fruits, and milk, and curds;"
And spreading all upon the board,
Invites with kindly words.

"Thanks, father, for thy bounteous fare,"

The youthful couple say:

Then freely ate, and made good cheer,

And talked their cares away.

"Now say, my

children (for perchance,

My counsel may avail);

What strange adventure brought you here,

Within this lonely dale?"

"First tell me, father!" said the youth,

(Nor blame my eager tongue),

"What town is near?-what lands are these?

And to what lord belong?"

"Alas! my son (the Hermit said),

Why do I live to say,

The rightful lord of these domains
Is banished far away?

"Ten winters now have shed their snows

On this my lowly hall,

Since valiant Hotspur (so the North

Our youthful lord did call).

Against Fourth Henry Bolingbroke

Led up his northern powers,

And, stoutly fighting, lost his life
Near proud Salopia's towers.

"One son he left, a lovely boy,
His country's hope and heir;
And, oh! to save him from his foes
It was his grandsire's care.

"In Scotland safe, he placed the child,
Beyond the reach of strife,

Nor long before the brave old Earl,
At Bramham lost his life.

"And now the Percy name, so long

Our northern pride and boast,
Lies hid, alas! beneath a cloud,-
Their honours reft and lost.

"No chieftain of that noble house
Now leads our youth to arms;
The bordering Scots despoil our fields,
And ravage all our farms.