In wild amaze, in speechless wo,
Devoid of sense I lay:
Then sudden all in frantic mood
I meant myself to slay:

'And rising up in furious haste
I seiz'd the bloody brand :*
A sturdy arm here interpos'd,
And wrench'd it from my hand.

'A crowd, that from the castle came,
Had miss'd their lovely ward;
And seizing me to prison bare,
And deep in dungeon barr'd.

"It chanc'd that on that very morn
Their chief was prisoner ta'en:
Lord Percy had us soon exchang'd,
And strove to sooth my pain.

'And soon those honoured dear remains
To England were convey'd ;
And there within their silent tombs,
With holy rites were laid.

'For me, I loath'd my wretched life,
And oft to end it sought;

Till time, and thought, and holy men,
Had better counsels taught.

'They rais'd my heart to that pure source
Whence heavenly comfort flows:
They taught me to despise the world,
And calmly bear its woes.

*i. e. sword.

'No more the slave of human pride, Vain hope and sordid care;

I meekly vowed to spend my life
In penitence and prayer.

The bold sir Bertram now no more,
Impetuous, haughty, wild;

But poor and humble Benedict,
Now lowly, patient, mild:

My lands I gave to feed the poor,
And sacred altars raise;
And here a lonely anchorite
I came to end my days.

This sweet sequestered vale I chose, These rocks, and hanging grove ; For oft beside this murmuring stream My love was wont to rove.

My noble friend approv'd my choice,
This bless'd retreat he gave:
And here I carv'd her beauteous form,
And scoop'd this holy cave.

Full fifty winters, all forlorn,
My life I've linger'd here;

And daily o'er this sculptured saint
I drop the pensive tear.

And thou, dear brother of my heart!
So faithful and so true,

The sad remembrance of thy fate

Still makes my bosom rue!

'Yet not unpitied pass'd my life,
Forsaken, or forgot,

The Percy and his noble son
Would grace my lowly cot.

'Oft the great earl from toils of state,
And cumbrous pomp of power,
Would gladly seek my little cell
To spend the tranquil hour.

'But length of life is length of wo!
1 liv'd to mourn his fall:

*

I liv'd to mourn his godlike son,
Their friends and followers all.

But thou the honours of thy race,
Lov'd youth, shalt now restore;
And raise again the Percy name
More glorious than before.'

He ceas'd, and on the lovely pair
His choicest blessings laid:
While they with thanks and pitying tears
His mournful tale repaid.

And now what present course to take

They ask the good old sire;

And, guided by his sage advice,

To Scotland they retire.

Meantime their suit such favour found

At Raby's stately hall,

Earl Neville and his princely spouse

Now gladly pardon all.

* Hotspur.

She suppliant at her nephew's* throne
The royal grace implor'd:

To all the honours of his race

The Percy was restor❜d.

The youthful earl still more and more

Admir'd his beauteous dame:

Nine noble sons to him she bore,

All worthy of their name.

Percy.

Note. The account given in the foregoing ballad of young Percy, the son of Hotspur, receives the following confirmation from the old Chronicle of Whitby.

'Henry Percy, the son of sir Henry Percy, that was slayne at Shrewesbery, and of Elizabeth, the daughter of the erle of Marche, after the death of his father and grauntsyre, was exiled into Scotlandt in the time of king Henry the Fourth but in the time of king Henry the Fifth, by the labour of Johanne the countess of Westmerland (whose daughter Alianor he had wedded in coming into England), he recovered the king's grace, and the countye of Northumberland, so was the second erle of Northumberland.

'And of this Alianor his wife, he begate IX sonnes, and III daughters, whose names be Johanne, that is buried at Whytbye; Thomas, lord Egremont; Katheryne Gray of Rythyn; sir Raffe Percy; William Percy, a byshopp; Richard Percy; John, that dyed without issue; [another John, called by Vincent, Johannes Percy senior de Warkworth;] George Percy, clerk; Henry, that dyed without issue; Anne,' [besides the eldest son and successor here omitted, because he comes in below, viz.]

'Henry Percy, the third erle of Northumberland.' Vid. Harl. MSS. No. 692, (26) in the British Museum.

*King Henry V. A.D. 1414.

ti. e. remained an exile in Scotland during the reign of king Henry IV. In Scotia exulavit tempore Henrici Regis quarti. Lat. MS. penes. Duc. North.

See his Great Baronag. No. 20, in the Herald's Office.

COOPER'S HILL.

SURE there are poets which did never dream
Upon Parnassus, nor did take the stream
Of Helicon; we therefore may suppose
Those made not poets, but the poets those.
And as courts made not kings, but kings the court,
So where the Muses and her train resort,
Parnassus stands; if I can be to thee

A poet, thou Parnassus art to me.
Nor wonder, if (advantag'd in my flight
By taking wing from thy auspicious height)
Through untrac'd ways and airy paths I fly
More boundless in my fancy than my eye:
My eye, which swift as thought contracts the space
That lies between, and first salutes the place.
Crown'd with that sacred pile, so vast, so high,
That whether 'tis a part of earth or sky
Uncertain seems, and may be thought a proud
Aspiring mountain, or descending cloud,

Paul's, the late theme of such a Muse,* whose flight
Has bravely reach'd and soar'd above thy height:
Now shalt thou stand, though sword, or time, or fire,
Or zeal more fierce than they, thy fall conspire;
Secure whilst thee the best of poets sings,
Preserv'd from ruin by the best of kings,
Under his proud survey the city lies,
And, like a mist beneath a hill, doth rise;

Whose state and wealth, the business and the crowd,'
Seem at this distance but a darker cloud;
And is, to him who rightly things esteems,
No other in effect than what it seems:

* Mr. Waller.