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THE

HERMIT of WARK WORTH.

A

Northumberland BALLA D.

FIT THE SECOND.

fmil'd the morn,

And every ftorm was fled

But lovelier far, with fweeter fmile,

Fair ELEANOR left her bed.

She found her HENRY all alone,
And cheer'd him with her fight;
The youth confulting with his friend,
Had watch'd the livelong night.

What fweet furprize o'erpower'd her breast?
Her cheek what blushes dyed,

When fondly he befought her there
To yield to be his bride.

Within this lonely Hermitage

There is a chapel meet:

Then grant, dear maid, my fond requests

And make my blifs compleat.

O HENRY, when thou deign't to fue,
Can I thy fuit withftand?

When thou, lov'd youth, haft won my heart,
Can I refufe my hand?

For thee I left a father's fmiles,
And mother's tender care;
And whether weal or woe betide,
Thy lot I mean to share.

And wilt thou then, O

generous maid, Such matchlefs favour show,

To fhare with me a banish'd wight
My peril, pain, or woe.

Now heaven, I trust, hath joys in store
To crown thy conftant breast:

For, know, fond hope affures my heart
That we fhall foon be bleft.

Not far from hence ftands Coquet Isle.
Surrounded by the sea;

There dwells a holy friar, well-known
To all thy friends and thee :*

'Tis father Bernard, fo revered
For every worthy deed;
To RABY caftle he fhall go,
And for us kindly plead.

To fetch this good and holy man
Our reverend hoft is gone:
And icon, I truft, his pious hands

Wi' join us both in one:

ar

* In the l'ttle inland of Coquet, near Warkworth, n the mins of a Cell, which belonged to the

Benedictine monks of Tinemouth-Abbey.

Thus they in sweet and tender talk
The lingering hours beguile :
At length they fee the hoary fage
Come from the neighbouring ifle.

With pious joy and wonder mix'd,
He greets the noble pair,
And glad confents to join their hands
With many a fervent prayer.

Then ftrait to RABY's diftant walls
He kindly wends his way;
Mean-time in love and dalliance fweet
They spend the livelong day.

And now, attended by their host,
The Hermitage they view'd,
Deep-hewn within a craggy cliff,
And over-hung with wood.

And near a flight of shapely steps,
All cut with niceft fkill,

And piercing thro' a ftony Arch,

Ran winding up the hill.

There deck'd with many a flower and herb

His little Garden ftands;

With fruitful trees in fhady rows,

All planted by his hands.

Then, fcoop'd within the folid rock,
Three facred Vaults he fhows;
The chief a Chapel, neatly arch'd,
On branching Columns rofe.

Each proper ornament was there,
That fhould a chapel grace:
The Lattice for confeffion fram'd,
And Holy-water Vase.

O'er either door a facred Text
Invites to godly fear;

And in a little fcutcheon hung
The crofs, and crown, and fpear.

Up to the Altar's ample breadth
Two eafy fteps afcend;

And near a glimmering folemn light
Two well-wrought Windows lend.

Befide the altar rofe a Tomb
All in the living stone;
On which a young and beauteous Maid
In goodly fculpture hone.

A kneeling Angel fairly carv'd

Lean'd hovering o'er her breaft; A weeping warrior at her feet; And near to thefe her Crest.*

The cliff, the vault, but chief the tomb,
Attract the wondering pair:
Eager they afk, what hapless dame
Lies fculptured here so fair?

The Hermit figh'd, the Hermit wept,
For forrow fcarce could speak:
At length he wip'd the trickling tears
That all bedew'd his cheek:

Alas! my children, human life
Is but a vale of woe;

And very mournful is the tale,
Which ye fo fain would know.

* This is a Bull's Head, the creft of the Widdrington family. the Figures, &c. here defcribed, are ftill visible; only fomewhat effaced with length of time.

1' HE

HERMIT's TAL E.

Young lord, thy grandfire had a friend
In days of youthful fame;

Yon diftant hills were his domains;
Sir BERTRAM was his name.

Where'er the noble PERCY fought
His friend was at his fide;
And many a skirmish with the Scots
Their early valour try'd.

Young Bertram lov'd a beauteous maid,
As fair as fair might be?
The dew-drop on the lily's cheek,
Was not fo fair as fhe.

Fair WIDDRINGTON the maiden's name,

*

Yon towers her dwelling place? Her fire an old Northumbrian chief, Devoted to thy race.

Many a lord, and many a knight
To this fair damfel came?
But Bertram was her only choice;
For him fhe felt a flame.

Lord PERCY pleaded for his friend,
Her father foon confents;
None but the beauteous maid herself,
His wishes now prevents.

But the with ftudied fond delays
Defers the blissful hour;

And loves to try his conftancy,

And

prove

her maiden power.

*Widdrington Caftle, is about five miles fouth of

Warkworth.

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