THE COMPLETE POETICAL WORKS OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. Walter Scott

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СКАЧАТЬ 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!

       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

       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 retained

       Each proof that might the plot reveal,

       Instructions with his hand and seal;

       And thus Saint Hilda deigned,

       Through sinners’ perfidy impure,

       Her house’s glory to secure

       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!

       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,

       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, oh! with cautious speed

       To Wolsey’s hand the papers bring,

       That he may show them to the king

       And for thy well-earned meed,

       Thou holy man, at Whitby’s shrine

       A weekly mass shall still be thine

       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,

       Like distant clarion feebly blown,

       That on the breeze did die;

       And loud the Abbess shrieked in fear,

       “Saint Withold, save us! What is here?

       Look at yon city cross!

       See, on its battled tower appear

       Phantoms, that scutcheons seem to rear,

       And blazoned banners toss!”

       XXV

      Dunedin’s Cross, a pillared stone,

       Rose on a turret octagon;

       (But now is razed that monument

       Whence royal edict rang,

       And voice of Scotland’s law was sent

       In glorious trumpet-clang.

       Oh! be his tomb as lead to lead

       Upon its dull destroyer’s head! -

       A minstrel’s malison is said).

       Then on its battlements they saw

       A vision, passing Nature’s law,

       Strange, wild, and dimly seen -

       Figures that seemed to rise and die,

       Gibber and sign, advance and fly,

       While nought confirmed could ear or eye

       Discern of sound or mien.

       Yet darkly did it seem, as there

       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,

       When flings the moon upon her shroud

       A wavering tinge of flame;

       It flits, expands, and shifts, till loud,

       From midmost of the spectre crowd,

       This awful summons came:-

       XXVI

      “Prince, prelate, potentate, and peer,

       Whose names I now shall call,

       Scottish, or foreigner, give ear!

       Subjects of him who sent me here,

       At his tribunal to appear

       I summon one and all:

       I cite you by each deadly sin

       That e’er hath soiled your hearts within;

       I cite you by each brutal lust

       That e’er defiled your earthly dust -

       By wrath, by pride, by fear;

       By each o’ermastering passion’s tone,

       By the dark grave and dying groan!

       When forty days are passed and gone,

       I cite you, at your monarch’s throne,

       To answer and appear.”

       Then thundered СКАЧАТЬ