The Ballads and Songs of Yorkshire. Various

monkish coward life,

      All for a woman's pride?"

      With louder voice and warmer look,

      His hermit host rejoin'd;

      "Think'st thou, vain youth, the chains of fear

      Could here a warrior bind?

      "Know, boy, thou seest Hermanrick here;

      Well vers'd in war's alarms;

      A name once not unknown to fame,

      Nor unrenown'd in arms.

      "O, Athelgiva! (yet too dear)

      Did I thy danger know:

      Yet would I fly to thy relief,

      And crush th' invading foe."

      With fluster'd cheek, young Edwy turn'd,

      At Athelgiva's name;

      And, "Gracious powers! it must be he!"

      He cries, "it is the same!

      "I know full well, I have not now

      More of thy tale to learn;

      I heard this morn, ere from the wave

      You could the sun discern.

      "My sister loves thee, gallant youth,

      By all the saints on high!

      She wept last night, when thy hard fate

      She told with many a sigh.

      "Forgive her, then, and in her cause

      Thy limbs with steel infold:

      Was it not Ardolph's daughter, say,

      Who late thy heart did hold?"

      "It was, it was!" Hermanrick cry'd;

      "I heard her brother's name;

      "Tis said he was a gallant youth,

      Who sought abroad for fame."

      Then Edwy sprang to his embrace,

      And clasp'd him to his breast;

      "And thou shalt be my brother, too,"

      He said and look'd the rest.

      "But now let honour fill thy mind,

      Be love's soft laws obey'd;

      'Tis Athelgiva claims thy sword,

      'Tis she demands thy aid.

      "She, with impatient anxious heart,

      Expects my quick return;

      And till again she sees me safe,

      The hapless maid will mourn.

      "Then let us fly to seek these chiefs,

      Who promised aid to send;

      Earl Osrick was my father's guest,

      Lord Redwald is my friend."

      Hermanrick said, "First let us go

      To cheer yon drooping maid;

      Again I'll wear my canker'd arms,

      Again I'll draw my blade."

      Then from a corner of the cell

      His clashing arms appear;

      But when he mark'd the growing rust,

      The warrior dropt a tear.

      Then forth they went—Hermanrick knew

      Each pathway of the wood;

      And safe before the abbey gate

      At break of day they stood.

      Now sleep the wearied maiden's eyes

      At length had kindly seal'd,

      When at the gate the wandering knights

      Returning day reveal'd.

      "Quick call the abbess," Edwy said,

      To him who kept the door,

      Who watch'd and pray'd the live-long night,

      A pious priest and poor.

      The abbess came, with instant haste;

      Th' alarming bell was rung;

      And from their matted homely beds

      The fainted virgins sprung.

      Fair Athelgiva first the dame,

      Soft speaking, thus addrest;

      "My daughter, an important call

      Commands me break thy rest.

      "Thy brother at the abbey gate,

      Appears with features glad;

      And with him comes a stranger knight,

      In war-worn armour clad."

      With falt'ring step and bloodless cheek,

      Young Athelgiva went:

      Confusion, shame, surprise and joy,

      At once her bosom rent,

      When in the stranger knight she saw

      Hermanrick's much-lov'd face;

      Whilst he, by gen'rous love impell'd,

      Rush'd to her fond embrace.

      Vain would the muse attempt to paint

      What joy the lover knew,

      Who found his long-disdainful maid

      At once fair, kind, and true.

      Then Edwy, while entranc'd in bliss

      The happy pair remain'd,

      Recounted o'er the tale, how he

      Hermanrick lost regain'd.

      But soon, alas! too soon, was heard,

      To damp their new-form'd joys,

      The groan of death, the shout of war,

      And battle's mingled noise.

      For up the hill, with eager haste,

      A breathless courier came;

      He cries, "Prepare for dire alarms,

      And shun th' approaching flame."

      "Fierce Hubba, landing on the beach,

      Now drives our feeble band;

      Who, far too few to stop his force,

      Fly o'er the crimson'd sand."

      What anguish fill'd the maiden's breast,

      What rage the lover knew,

      When looking down the steepy hill,

      They found the tale was true.

      Each warlike youth then grasp'd his spear,

      The trembling damsel said,

      "O where is now Earl Osrick's power,

      And where Lord Redwald's aid?"

      "Alas, alas!" the abbess cries,

      "Far as my sight is borne,

      I cannot see the ruddy cross,

      Nor hear Earl Osrick's horn."

      Stern Hubba now to direful deeds

      Impell'd his savage crew;

      And o'er