The Ballads and Songs of Yorkshire. Various

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СКАЧАТЬ Benedictine order, which was dedicated to St. Peter, and Lady Hilda appointed the first abbess. This lady was so famous for her sanctity that she attained the name of St. Hilda, and the monastery, though dedicated to St. Peter, is generally called after her. This abbey continued to flourish till about the year 867, when a party of Danes, under Hinguar and Hubba, landed at Dunsley Bay, the Dunus Sinus of Ptolemy, plundered the country around, and amongst other depredations entirely destroyed the monastery. About this period the tale is supposed to commence; the succeeding incidents are all fictitious, and were dictated to the author, in some measure, by the romantic situation of the abbey, (magnificent in ruin,) which is exceedingly proper for such events.

      This monastery lay in ruins till after the conquest, when king William assigned Whitby to Hugh de Abrincis, who disposed of the place to William de Percy, by whom the monastery was refounded about 1074, and dedicated to St. Peter and St. Hilda. In the reign of Henry VIII. this house shared the fate of the other monastic establishments; and its yearly revenues, according to Dugdale, were £437 2s. 9d.; and £505 9s. 1d., according to Speed.

      "Here mayst thou rest, my sister dear,

      Securely here abide;

      Here royal Edelfleda lived,

      Here pious Hilda died.

      "Here peace and quiet ever dwell:

      Here fear no rude alarms;

      Nor here is heard the trumpet's sound,

      Nor here the din of arms!"

      With voice compos'd and look serene,

      (Whilst her soft hand he press'd,)

      The maid, who trembled on his arm,

      Young Edwy thus address'd.

      Blue gleam'd the steel in Edwy's hand,

      The warrior's vest he bore:

      For now the Danes, by Hubba led,

      Had ravaged half the shore.

      His summons at the abbey gate

      The ready porter hears;

      And soon, in veil and holy garb,

      The abbess kind appears.

      "O take this virgin to thy care,

      Good angels be your guard;

      And may the saints in heaven above

      That pious care reward.

      "For we by fierce barbarian hands

      Are driven from our home;

      And three long days and nights forlorn,

      The dreary waste we roam.

      "But I must go—these towers to save;

      Beneath the evening shade,

      I haste to seek Earl Osrick's pow'r,

      And call Lord Redwald's aid."

      He said—and turn'd his ready foot;

      The abbess nought replies;

      But, with a look that spoke her grief,

      To heaven upcast her eyes.

      Then, turning to the stranger dame,

      "O welcome to this place;

      For never Whitby's holy fane

      Did fairer maiden grace."

      And true she said—for on her cheek

      Was seen young beauty's bloom,

      Though grief, with slow and wasting stealth,

      Did then her prime consume.

      Her shape was all that thought can frame,

      Of elegance and grace;

      And heav'n the beauties of her mind

      Reflected in her face.

      "My daughter, lay aside thy fears,"

      Again the matron cry'd,

      "No Danish ravishers come here—"

      —Again the virgin sigh'd.

      The abbess saw, the abbess knew,

      'Twas love that shook her breast;

      And thus, in accents soft and mild,

      The mournful maid addrest,

      "My daughter dear, as to thy friend

      Be all thy care confest;

      I see 'tis love disturbs thy mind,

      And wish to give thee rest.

      "But hark! I hear the vesper bell,

      Now summons us to prayer;

      That duty done, with needful food

      Thy wasted strength repair."

      But now the pitying mournful muse

      Of Edwy's hap shall tell;

      And what amid his nightly walk

      That gallant youth befell.

      For journeying by the bank of Esk

      He took his lonely way;

      And now through showers of driving rain

      His erring footsteps stray.

      At length, from far, a glimmering light

      Trembled among the trees:

      And entering soon a moss-built hut,

      A holy man he sees.

      "O father, deign a luckless youth

      This night with thee to shield;

      I am no robber, though my arm

      This deadly weapon wield."

      "I fear no robber, stranger, here,

      For I have nought to lose;

      And thou mayst safely through the night

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