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Electronic library read the book eBooksRead.com books search new books russian e-books Walter Scott. The poetical works of Sir Walter Scott, with a sketch of his life . (page 85 of 110) Rude he was, and wild to beholil. Wore neither colLv nor bracelet of gold. Cap of vair, nor rich array, Such as should grace that festal day: His doublet of bull's hide was all unbraced, Uncovered his head, and liis sandal unlaced - His shaggy black locks on his brow hung low, And his eyes glanctd thro' them a swarthy glow; 528 SCOTT'S POETICAL WORKS. Thomas sawe inucli more in that place, Than I can desci-yve, Til on a day alas, alas. My lovelyf lailyt- sayd to mc, Busk yc, Thomas, you must ag'ayn, Heiv jou may no longer be: Hy then zerne that you wei-e at hame, I sal ye bryng to Rldyn tie. Thomas answerd <<-ith lieuy cher. And sayd, lowely ladye, lat ma be. For I say ve certainly here Haf I be b'ol the space of daycs three. Sothly, Thomas, as I telle ye. You hath beiii here thre yeres. And here you may no longer be; And I sal tile ye a skele, To-morrowe of helle ye foule fende Amang our foike shall chuse his fee: For you art a larg man and an hende, Trowe you wele he will chuse thee. For all the golde that may bo, Sal you not be betrayed for me lection of Scottish ballads and songs, has an entire copy of this ancient poem, with all the collations. The laauue of the former edition have been sup- plied from his copy.] NOTES TO PART III. 1. And Ruberslaw showed high Dunyon.- P. 325. Ruberslaw and Duyon are two high hills above Jedburgh. 2. Then all by bonny Coldingknow.- P. 325. An ancient tower near Ercildoun, belonging to a family of the name of Home. One of Thomas's prophecies is said to have run thus: Vengeance, vengeance! when and where? On the house of Coldingknow, now and evermair. The spot is renflpfpfl nioooin"! I- :>>- ' - o ;.,o.. \ji .lucii. 111 summer's drought, the anglers plain. Who hope the soft mild southern shower in vain; But, more than all, the discontented fair. Whom father stern, and sterner aunt, restrain From county ball, or r.'xce occuring rare. While all her friends around their vestments gay prepare. Ennui! - or, as our mothers called thee. Spleen! To thee we owe full many a rare device; - Thine is the sheaf of painted cards, 1 ween. The rolling billiard ball, the rattling dice. The turning lathe for framing gimcrack nice, The amateur's blotched pallet thou may'st claim, For me, I love my stud3'-fire to trim, And con right vacantly some idle tale. Displaying on the couch each listless limb. Till on the drowsy page the lights grow dim. And doubtful slumber half supplies the theme; While antique shapes of knigiit and giant grim, Damsel and dwarf, in long procession gleam. And the romancer's tale becomes the reader's dream. 'Tis thus my malady I well may bear, Albeit outstretched, like pope's own Paridel, Upon the rack of a too-easy chair; And find, to cheat the time, a powerful spell HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS 329 In old romaunts of errantry that tell, Or later legends of the fairy-folk, Or oriental tale of Afrite fell, Of genii, talisman, and broad-wing'd roc, Tho' taste may blusii and frown, and sober reason mock. Oft at such season, too, will rhymes unsought, Arrange themselves in some romantic lay; The which, as things unfitting graver thought. Are burnt or blotted on some wiser day; - These few survive - and proudly let me say. Court not the critic's smile, nor dread his frown; They well may serve to while an hour away, Nor does the volume ask for more renown. Than Ennui's yawning smile, what time she drops it down. HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. CASTO I. I. List to the valorous deeds that were done By Harold the Dauntless, count VVitikind's son! Count Witikind came of a regal strain, And roved with his Norsemen the land and the main. Wo to the realms which he coasted! for there Was shedding of blood, and rending of hair, Rape of maiden, and slaughter of priest. Gathering of ravens and wolves to the feast: When he hoisted his standard black. Before him was battle, behind him wrack, And he burned the churches, that heathen Dane, To light his band to their barks again. n. On Erin's shores was his outrage known, The winds of France had his banners blown; Little was there to plunder, yet still His pirates had foray'd on Scottish hill: But upon merry England's coast More frequent he sail'd, for he won the most. So wide and so far his ravage they knew. If a sail but gleam'd white 'gainst the welkin blue, Trumpet and bugle to arms did call. Burghers hasten'd to man the wall, Feasants fled inward his fui-y to 'scape, Beacons were lighted on iieadland and cape, Bells were toU'd out, and aye as they rung, Fearful and faintly the gray brothers sung, ^ " Bless us, St. Mar)', from flood and from fire. From famine and pest, and count VVitikind's ire !" ni. He liked the wealth of fair England so well, That he sought in her bosom as native to dwell. He enter'd the Humber in fearful hour. And disembark'd witli i>is Danish power. Three earls came against him with all their train, Two hath he taken, and one hath he slain: Count Witikind left the Humber's rich strand. And he wasted and warr'd in Nortliumberland. But the Saxon king was a sire in age. Weak in battle, in council sage; Peace of that heathen leader he sought, Gifts he gave, and quiet he bought: And the count took upon liim the peaceable style, Of a vassal and liegeman of Britain's broad isle. IV. Time will rust the sharpest sword, Time will consume the strongest cord; That which moulders hemp and steel, Mortal arm and nerve must feel. Of the Danish band, whom count Witikind led. Many wax'd aged, and many were deail; Himself found his armour full weighty to bear, Wrinkled his brows grew, and hoary his hair; He lean'd on a staff, wlien his step went abroad, And patient his palfrey, when steed he bestrode; As he grew feebler his wildness ceased, He made himself peace with prelate and priest, Made his peace, and, stooping his head. Patiently listed the counsel they said: Saint Cuthbert's bishop was holy and grave, Wise and good was the counsel he gave. V. "Thou hast murder'd, robb'd, and spoil'd, Time it is thy poor soul were assoil'd; Priest did'st thou slay, and churches burn, Time it is now to repentance to turn; Fiends hast thou worshipp'd, with fiendish rite, Leave now the darkness, and wend into light: O! while life and space are given. Turn thee yet, and think of heaven!" That stern old heathen his head he raised, And on the good prelate he steadfastly gazed: " Give me broad lands on the Wear and the Tync, My faith 1 will leave, and I'll cleave unto thine." VI. Broad lands he gave him on Tyne and on Wear, To be held of the church by bridle and spear; Part of Monkwearmouth, of Tynedale part. To better his will, and to soften his heart: Count Witikind was a joyful man. Less for the faith than the lands that he wan. The high church of Durham is dress'd for the day. The clerg}' are rank'd in their solemn array; There came the count, in a bear-skin warm, Leaning on Hilda, his concubine's arm; He kneel'd before saint Cuthbert's shrine. With patience unwonted at riles divine: He abjured the gods of heathen race. And he bent his head at the font of grace; But such was the griesly old proselyte's look, That the priest who baptized him grew pale atid shook: And the old monks mutter'd beneath their hood, " Of a stem so stubborn can never spring good!" VII. Up then arose that grim convertite. Homeward he hied him when ended the rite The prelate in honour will with him ride. And feast in his castle on Tyne's fair side. Banners and banderols danced in the wind. Monks rode before them, and spearmen behind; Onward they pass'd, till fairly did shine Pennon and cross on the bosom of Tyne: And full in front did that iortress lower. In darksome strength with its buttress and tower: At the castle-gate was young Harold there, Count VVitikind's only offspring and heir. vm. Voung Harold was fear'd for his hardihood, His strength of frame, and his fury of mood; Rude he was, and wild to behold, VV^ore neither collar nor bracelet of gold, Cap of vair, nor rich array, Such as should grace that festal day: His doublet of bull's hide was all unbraced. Uncovered his head, and his sandal unlaced; His shaggy black locks on his brow hung low, And his eyes glanctd thro' them a swarthy glow; 330 SCOTT'S POKTICAL WORKS. A Danish club in his hand he bore, The spikes wore clotted with recent gore; At his buck a slie wolf, and her wolf cul)S twain, In the dangerous chase tiiat niorniiij; slmii. Rude was the greeting to his father he made, None to the bishop- while thus he said: IX. " M'hat priest-led hypocrite art thou, With tbv humbled look an<l thy monkish brow. Like a shaveling who studies to cheat his vow? Canst thou be Witikind the Waster known. Royal Eric's fearless son, Haughty Gunbilda's haughtier lord, Who won Ills bride by the axe and sword: From the shrine of St. Peter the chalice who tore, And melted to bracelets for Freya and Thor; MHlhoneblowof hisgauntletwhobursted the skull. Before Odin's stone, of the mountain bull? Then ye worshipp'd with rites that to war-gods belong. With the deed of the brave, and the blow ot the strong, And now, in thine age, to dotage sunk. Wilt tliou patter thy crimes to a shaven monk. Lav down thy mail-shirt for clothing of hair. Fasting and scoui-ge, like a slave, wilt thou bear? Or, at best, be admitted in slothful bower To batten with priest and with paramour? O! out upon thine endless shame! Each scald's his;h harp shall blast thy fame. And thy son will refuse thee a father's name!" X. Ireful wax'd old Witlkind's look. His faultering voice with fury shook; - <<' Hear me, Harold, of harden'd heart! Stubborn and wilful ever thou wert. Thino outrage insane I command thee to cease, Fear my wrath and remain at peace:- Just is llie debt of repentance I've paid. Richly the church has a recompense made. And the truth of her doctrines I prove with my blade. But reckoning to none of my actions I owe, fS And least to my son such accounting will show. Why speak 1 to thee of repentance or truth. Who ne'er from thy chi Idhood knew reason or ruth ' Hence! to the wolf and the bear in her den; These are thy mates, and not rational men." XL Grimly smiled Harold, and coldly replied, " We must honour our sires, if we fear when they chide. For me, 1 am yet what thy lessons have made, 1 was rock'd in a buckler and fed from a blade; An infant, was taught to clap hands and to shout, From the roofs of the tower when the flame had broke out; In the blood of slain foemen my finger to dip. And tinge with its purple my cheek and my lip. - ' ris thou know'st not truth, that has barter'd in eld. For a price, the brave faith that thine ancestors held. When this woir'- and the carcass he flung on the plain - " Shall awake and give food to her nurslings again. The face of his father will Harold review; Till then, aged heathen, youhg christian, adieu!" XU. Priest, monk, and prelate stood aghast. As through the pageant the heathen pass'd. A cross-bearer out of his saddle he flung. Laid his hand on the pommel and into it sprung; Loud was tlic shriek, and deep the groan. When the holy sign on the earth was thrown! The fierce old count unsheallied his brand. But the calmer prelate stay'd his hand; " Let him pass free !- rHeaven knows its hour - But he must own i-cpentance's power. Pray and weep, and penance bear, Ere he hold land by the Tyne and the Wear. " - Thus in scorn and in wrath from his father tt gone Young Harold the Dauntless, count Witikind's son. XIII. High was the feasting in Witikind's hall, Revell'd priests, soldiers, and pagans, and all; And e'en the good bisiiop was lain to endure The scandal which time and instruction might cure: It were dangerous, he deem'd, at the first to re- strain, In his wine and his wassail, a balf-christen'd Dane. The mead flow'd around, and the ale was drain'd dry. Wild was the laughter, the song, and the cry; W^ith Kyrie Eleison came clamorously in The war-songs of Danesman, Norweyan, and Finn, Till man after man the contention gave o'er, Outstretch'd on the rushes tliat strew'd the hall floor; And the tempest within, having ceased its wild rout. Gave place to the tempest that thunder'd without. XIV. Apart from the wassail, in turret alone, Lay flaxen-hair'd Gunnar, old Ermengarde's son; In the train of lord Harold the page was tiie first. For Harold in childliood had Ermengarde nursed; And grieved was young Gunnar his master should roam. Unhoused and unfriended, an exile from home. He heard the deep thunder, the plasliiiig of rain. He saw the red liglituing through shot-hole and pane; "And oh!" said tlie page, "on the shelterless wold Lord Hai-old is wandering in darkness and cold! What though he was stubborn, an<l wayward, and wild. He endur'd me because I was Ermengarde's child, And often from dawn till the sol of the sun. In the chase, by his stirrup, unchidden I run: 1 would I were older, and knightliood could bear, 1 would soon quit the banks of the Tyne and the Wear; For my mother's command with her last parting breath. Bade me follow her nursling in life and to death. XV. " It pours and it thunders, it lightens amain, As ir Lok, the destroyer, had burst from his cliain! Accursed by the church, and expell'd by his sire, Nor christain nor Dane give him shelter or fire. And this tempest wliat mortal may houseless en- dure? Unaided, unmantled, he dies on the moor! Whate'er comes of Gunnar he tarries not here." He leapt from his couch and he grasp'd to his spear. Sought the hall of the feast. Undisturbed by his tread. The wassailers slept fast as the sleep of the dead: HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. 331 " Ungrateful and bestial !" his anger broke forth, " To forget 'mid your goblets the pride of the North ! And you, ye cowl'd priests, who have plenty in store. Must give Gunnar for ransom a palfrey and ore.'' XYl. Then heeding full little of ban or of curse. He has siezed on the prior of Jorvaux's purse: Saint Meneholt's abbot next morning has miss'd His mantle, deep furr'd from the cape to the wrist: The seneschal's keys from his belt he has ta'en, (Well drench'd on "that eve was old Hildebrand's brain. ) To the stable-yard he made his way, And mounted "the bishop's palfrey gay. Castle and hamlet behind him has cast. And right on his way to the moorlar.d has pass'd. Sore snorted the palfre}', unused to face A weather so wild at so rash apace; So long he snorted, so loud he neigh'd, There answer'd a steed that was bound beside. And the red flash of lightning show 'd there where lay His master, lord Harold, outstretch'd on the clay. xvn. Up he started, and thunder'd out, " Stand!" And rais'd the club in his deadly hand. The flaxen-hair'd Gunnar his purpose told, Show'd the palfrey and profier'd the gold. " Back, b.ick, and' home, thou simple boy ! Thou can'st not share my grief or joy: Have I not mark'd thee wail and ci-y When thou hast seen a sparrow die? And can'st thou, as my follower should. Wade ancle-deep through foeman's blood, Dare mortal and immortal foe, The gods above, the fiends below. And man on earth, more hateful still, The very fountain head of ill? Desperate of life, and careless of death. Lover of bloodslied, and slaughter, and scathe, Such must thou be with me to roam. And such thou canst not be - back, and home!" XVIII. Young Gunnar shook like an aspen bough. As he heard the harsh voice and beheld the dark brow. And half he repented his purpose and vow. But now to draw back were bootless shame. And he loved his master, so urged his claim: " Alas! if my arm and my courage be weak, Bear with me a while for old Ermengarde's sake; Nor deem so lightly of Gunnar's faith. As to fear he would break it for peril of death. Have 1 not risk'd it to fetch thee this gold. This surcoat and mantle to fence thee from cold? And, did I bear a baser mind. What lot remains if I stay behind' The priests' revenge, thy father's wrath, A dungeon and a shameful death."