The Minstrel of the North; or, Cumbrian Legends; being a poetical miscellany of legendary, Gothic, and romantic tales

Front matter

THE •Minstrel of the North ; OR, CUMB1RIAN JLEGENBS. BEING A POETICAL MISCELLANY OF UrStmiaiari), &tA\%t, anrj 3Uomantic €al«. BY J. STAGG, ESQ. Upon the summit of the hill Along the margin of the lake, Or by the windings of the rill, Wild Fancy may her rambles take ; Or 'midst the ruins once renown'd, The cloister, or the dreary cell, The food of Genius may be found, For there the Mnse6 love to dwell. MANCH ESTER: PRINTED BY MARK IVARDLE, B*PTTOM OF MARKET-STREET FOR THE AUTHOR, AND SOLD BY J. BLACKLOCK, ROYAL EXCHANGE, • LONDON. 1816. TO HIS GRACE TBS DUKE OF NORFOLK. My Lord, X HE universal benevolence, and suavity of manners, which so justly characterise your Grace, could alone have emboldened me to present myself to your attention. Your un common partiality to the inhabitants of, and to every thing connected with, the county of Cumberland, is the only motive which has prompted the author (a native of that county) to offer this Work to your protection and patronage.

Upon its merits, my Lord, I am silent. Unaided, and unknown in the great world, I have occasion for, and do solicit, your patronage. The avowal which I'had the DEDICATION. pleasure of hearing you make, at the last Cumberland Anniversary, of your esteem for my native country and countrymen, com bined with your Grace's goodness on every other occasion, leave me no room to doubt that you will pardon this application, presented with the profoundest respect, by, My Lord, Your very humble, and obedient servant, THE AUTHOR PREFATORY APOLOGY. _/\.S the privation of sight has naturally pre cluded me from attending, with any degree of ac curacy, either to the composition, correction, or reVision, of this work, I doubt not, nay, I am cer tain, that a number of errors must have inevitably escaped my observation, as well in the transcrip tion as in the typography ; but when the candid and benevolent public come to reflect on the num berless difficulties with which I have had to com bat, I hope they will not long hesitate to pardon and overlook the many imperfections they will necessarily meet with.

If this volume were destined to fall into the hands of the critics alone, I should have but very little hopes of mercy ; as I am sensible that the Judges in Literature, like those in the Law, are bound, by the duties of their profession, to give judgment impartially, though lenity is much more becoming in both than severity. But it is not to these literary arbitrators I refer myself. The public are my judges; and to that tribunal alone I shall make my appeal. If, from the numerous PREFATORY APOLOGY. and respectable persons who have honoured me with their attention and patronage, I may be allowed to form any presage, I would venture to predict, that the reception of my book would not be the most unfavourable. How far the general tenor of these pieces may be approved, I shall not presume to say ; but the present perversion of taste, and the romance mania so prevalent nowa-days, almost demonstrate to me, that Essays of a more serious and regular nature would not be universally received with such a degree of encouragement.

Canto I

A HE ev'ning lower'd, the wind blew hard, And furious roar'd the tide ; Fast homeward to his humble shed The weary ploughman hied. And madly Esk* and Eden ran, Swoll'n by the falling rain, When Alfred led fair Imogene, Bewilder'd, o'er the plain. *The Esk and Eden, two rivers; the one rising' in Westmore land, and the other in the southern part of Scotland; their waters join a little above Bowness, in Cumberland, and, by their confluence, and the junction of some other streams, constitute what is called Sol way Frith. On either side a river roar'd ; Dismay'd, they walk'd between ; For neither to the right nor left One glimpse of light was seen ! But, lost amidst surrounding gloom, With unknown steps they sped ; Unconscious of the way they went, And stupified with dread. At length, when sinking with their fears, They spied a glimm'ring light ; Which seem'd at no great distance thence, And cheer' d their longing sight.

Young Alfred call'd with all his might, The rocks re-echoed round ; An answering voice return'd the call, With kind inviting sound. 'Twas Edmund, hermit of the hill, In Rockcliffe known of yore, Whose hospitable cottage still Receiv'd the wand'ring poor. Once noted was this holy man, For piety and pray'r ; T' instruct the blind, and aid the weak, • Was his peculiar care. OF ROCKCLTFFE. 3 The wand'ring pair pursued the light, And soon attain'd the hill; The friendly Hermit at his cell Receiv'd them with good will. For them, with heaps of added turf, He mends his homely fire; Their suff" rings and their wants to sooth, Appear'd his sole desire. With frugal, but with wholesome food, The table soon was spread, And whilst they ate, their kindly host Prepar'd their humble bed. And now, refresh'd, the cheerful group In various converse join'd; The angry storm that howl'd without, No more the pilgrims mind.

The cautious hermit then began To ask the youthful pair, By what misfortune or mischance So late they travell'd there. When thus, young Alfred soft replied, •• Most rev'rend father wait With patience, and th' eventful tale To you I will relate. " Since Bannockbourn's* unhappy day, The Scots, but ill at rest, Of England's weakness well aware, The borders sore infest. " Poor Cumberland, the most expos'd, Has felt in many a fray; Our towns they bum, our flocks and herds By force they drive away. " Three days are scarcely past and gone, Since a ferocious band, Of wild freebooters from the North, Invaded Cumberland. "Thro' Brough the bold banditti sped, Rude rapine niark'd their course, To Orton, and to Dalston next, For none could check their force. " As in their unresisted route Before them all recoil, And of our cattle, and our corn, They swept a mighty spoil. * Bannockbourn, near Stirling; where was fought tho memo rable battle between the English, commanded by Edward the Se cond, and the Scots by Robert Biuce, in which the former, thouo-h upwards of a hundred thousand strong, were defeated, and totally routed by the latter, though not above thirty thousand.

" To brave Sir Barnard's hall they march'd, Which undefended lay, And his fair daughter Imogene They, captive, bore away. "Alarm and horror loudly rang Throughout the ravag'd land; For no collected force had we, These ruffians to withstand. " At length the neighbouring barons heard : Enrag'd, their powers they rose; And forth their num'rous vassals led, Their progress to oppose. " But, when the Northerns understood That Cumbria's chieftains led An army forth, to check their course, To Scotland back they sped. " By Bowness bent their tardy march; Their plunder went before ; And, fording through the Solway, soon Regain'd the Scottish shore. *' Nor long behind the English force In idle dalliance staid ; But, urg'd by fury and revenge, With speed for Scotland made. *' Nor long we vainly sought the foe, Who slowly onward wound ; And, sore encumber'd by their spoils, Had gain'd but little ground.

" At our approach, like base-born slaves Their plunder they forsook ; Nor far the cowards we pursu'd, But all the spoil re-took. " All, save the lovely Imogene, Who, held by ruffian force, A fierce freebooter, screaming, bore Away upon his horse. " With love and vengeance doubly fir'd, I urg'd my nimble steed ; And, turning by a nearer path, Pursued them with all speed. " Soon the bold ravisher I chargr'd, For, by one deadly blow, My faulchion trench'd his sever'd crest, And lifeless laid him low! " Half dead with horror and despair, The rescued maid I bore Triumphant to the place, where late We had encamp'd before. " But how was I surpris'd and vex'd, To find our party gone, And we, amidst a hostile land, Unsuccour'd, left alone. " The western sun o'er Criffel's* brow Glanc'd his departing ray ; What should be done ! — the foe was near, And dang'rous was delay.

" Unknown, unaided, and forlorn, We left the fated place ; And, back to Cumbria, by the route We went, our way retrace. " But, as athwart the moorland waste, The way was ill to find, With moss and quagmire interspers'd, 1 left my horse behind. " With Phcebus' last departing ray, We forded thro' the Sarke ; t But ere we well had passed the Esk, 'Twas grown completely dark. * CritTel, a very high mountain in the south-west borders of Scotland. f Sarke, a small river which empties itself into the Esk near Gretna Green, and which, for a few miles in that neighbourhood, divides Scotland from England. " When quite bewilder'd in despair, We trac'd the sandy coast ; And, btat for your directing light, Had certainly been lost. " But, since your hospitable cell A kind asylum lends, Our future gratitude, I hope, Shall make you full amends.

" Our home, if heav'n permit, we may Reach with to-morrow's light; a\nd Imogene again shall glad An anxious father's sight." " But who art thou, . advent' rous youth?' The rev'rend Hermit cried ; " What is thy lineage, to what house Art thou by birth allied? •' For, if from actions aught we may Of pedigree divine, Thine would bespeak thee of a class Above the vulgar line." To whom, young Alfred, courteous youth, Thus modest made reply — " Of no distinguish'd high descent Or family am I. " In fact, my birth is quite obscure, My origin is low ; That I the parents never knew To whom I being owe. " A father's kindness I ne'er felt, Nor shar'd a mother's fears, For in Sir Barnard's hall I've liv'd From my most infant years." " Alas, my son !" the Hermit cried, " How like my own, thy fate ! But may it never be thy lot To know my wretched state !

" For mine has been a life of woe ; Eventful as severe, From my nativity till now That you behold me here. " And since the ardent flame of love, So plainly is display'd, That in thy youthful bosom burns, Towards that beauteous maid; " Perhaps my more than common tale To thee may useful prove, And caution thee to shun tbose ills That spring from misplac'd love. c " Though the recital may produce To mem'ry new-born pain, Yet, for your vantage, will I tell My tale of woes again. THE HERMITS TALE

Canto II

V>"HILD of obscurity, and doom'd Thro' life to feel distress, My infancy commenc'd in woe, Nor age has suffer'd less. " As on a fair autumnal morn, Sir Michael of the Moor Arose, to join the cheerful chace, He found me at his door ; " Within a wicker-basket stow'd, And wrapt with curious care ; V medal, pendant from my neck, The name of Edmund bear. > " But none could tell who brought me there, Or guess from whence I came ; The only information left Was barely of my name. " The knight he took me to his hall, And gave me to his wife, And, with a parent's fondness, watch'd My helpless infant life. " Nor in my education aught, Or pastime ever spar'd ; Tor I, in common with his own, Each fond indulgence shar'd. " Meanwhile, brought up with fost'ring care To manhood fast I grew, Each manly art and exercise Accustom'd to pursue.

" Full fast, full fleet, without alloy, My years of youthhood run, For, till fourteen, had I suppos'd Myself Sir Michael's son. " Indeed, his kindness and his care So taught me to believe ; And, till the fatal truth I knew, I ne'er had cause to grieve. " But, when I luckless came to know Th' obscureness of my name, My youthful ardour fled, and left My cheek suffus'd with shame. " In solitude I mourn'd my lot, In silence sigh'd my woe, And all from Providence I sued Was, but myself to know. " With kindly care Sir Michael strove My sorrows to suppress, And each effort tried, To sooth my sad distress. " A thousand arts to lull my grief, My gen'rous patron tried, And wheresoe'er the Baron went, I still was by his side. •' The brave Sir Guy de Morville once. So chanc'd it to befall, My noble foster-father had Invited to his hall.

" As to promote my happiness, Seem'd chiefly his intent, So since the visit promis'd fair, To Brough with him I went *• Sir Guy de Morville was a knight Of whom the world might say, That England's realm a braver peer Possess'd not in his day. " The grandson of the brave Sir Hugh,* Our second Henry's friend, By whom imperious Becket met His just but tragic end. " Near Brough his stately castle stood, Magnificent in show, Whose lofty towers defiance wav'd To each invading foe. " Around his num'rous vast domains Extended widely lay, For half of spacious Cumberland Confess'd his mighty sway. " Tho' far around his manors spread, Tho' hosts his subjects were, His hospitality excell'd His opulence by far. •Hugh de Morville, one of those who assisted in the assassina tion of Becket, at Canterbury ; his residence was chiefly at a castle at Brough, or Burgh, five miles west of Carlisle, where yet remains an entire tower; it is of the same form so commonly found in the North of England and many partu of Scotland, i. e. quadran- I " With my indulgent patron here, Right courteously I far'd, And in the pleasures of the place An ample portion shar'd. " Each kindly striving to remove The pressure of my thought, Whilst every new successive day New entertainment brought.

" Sometimes along the spacious marsh We chas'd the nimble deer, Or else in angling spent the day, On Eden's waters clear. '• Or sometimes with the baying hounds, The neighb'ring woods explore, And from the shelt'ring thicket drive The fierce and bristly boar. " Thus, whilst at Brough, each coming day Brought scenes of fresh delight, And balls, and various modes of mirth, Concurr'd to cheer the night. gular. At present it constitutes the steeple of the parish-church of that place. This castle had, probably, been destroyed when the Scots, under the command of Robert Bruce, made their incursian into Cumberland, A. R. 16th Ed. II. 1323 or 4. " By these my wonted gloom appear'd To be dispell'd apace, And gay hilarity "ud mirth Establish'd in its place. " I now had reach'd my eighteenth year, And was by all confest To be of an engaging mein, And person too, possess'd. " But, conscious of my birth obscure, My views had stinted scope, And timid diffidence repell'd The very hand of hope.

" It chanc'd one night the gay Sir Guy An entertainment made, For our amusement, which compris'd A ball and masquerade. " Full many a Lord and Lady came, In gallant garb and gay, Nor could Carnarvon's* court then boast Of splendour more display. *The surname of Edward II. so called from being bora in Car jiarvon Castle, in Wales. " Their blithest airs the minstrels play'd, The vaulted roofs resound ; With mirthful measures, thro' the hall, The dancers shift around. •' The laugh, the song, their heartfelt joy, Full easy might betray : Nor discontinued were those sports Until the dawn of day. " Amongst the ladies that were there, Was one of graceful mein, Her noble stature and her air Might well have grac'd a queen. " Tho' love, as yet, had never play'd Around my youthful heart, Yet now, I made myself assured, 1 felt its poignant dart.

" The more I danc'd, the more I talk'd, With this engagiug dame, The more convinc'd was I my breast Had caught the furious flame. " With dancing tir'd, and warm with wine, I press'd the lovely fair Awhile to leave the busy train, And breathe the open air. " All-yielding to my utmost wish, She left the jocund throng, And thro' the garden's fragrant walks Well pleas'd we stroll'd along. " At length we reach'd a secret bow'r, Amid the thick'ning grove, Where we indulg'd in each excess Of fond, but lawless love. " With strange emotions back I led My charmer to the hall, And with the jovial groupe resum'd The pastimes of the ball. " But, what confusion in my face Must ev'ry eye have known, Had not iny mask conceal'd the blush Which conscience would have shown ' " At length the rosy tinge of morn Illum'd the mountains' heads, The weary wantons quit their sports, And, yawning, seek their beds.

" I to my wonted chamber went, But here I found no rest ; The mingled pangs of guilt and love So occupied my breast. D " Long ere the castle-bell had rung. My pillow I forsook ; And to the arbour in the grove A wistless saunter took. "In contemplation wrapp'd profound, My hapless fate I mourn'd ; Whilst in my heart the torch of love With fiercer ardour burn'd. " Should she, the object of my love, Once come to know my state, Full well I knew that all my hopes In her must terminate. "My face, assisted by my mask, I carefully conceal'd ; Certain, with shame t' have been repols'd, If that had been reveal'd. " But then, the cause that favour'd me Now added to my woe ; It hinder'd me from knowing her, Whom most I wi&b'd to know. " Back to the castle I repair'd, And enter'd by the hall ; The company at breakfast sat : I look'd — I notic'd all.

" But all in vain inquiry prov'd, Or passion made me blind ; For her the most for whom I sought, Her no where could 1 find. " But now the cruel fatal time For our departure come ; It follow'd, that I must of course, Attend Sir Michael home. " With doleful heart, and downcast eye, I left the place behind, Whilst burning love and black despair United in my mind. " No lover, e'er before, thought I, Thus cruelly was cross'd ; To find a treasure, and. the same, In finding, to be lost. " For her in secret long I pin'd, And search as useless made, Till time, that conquers ev'ry ill, That too, at length, allay 'd. '* Tho' ocean into mountains rise, When tortur'd by the wind, In time the conflict will subside — So fares it with the mind. " Sir Michael's kindness to my cares, The best of balsams prov'd, And time compell'd me to forget That ever I had lov'd. " Full sixteen years I calmly pass'd In philosophic joy, Nor e'er one incident occurr'd That quiet to annoy.

" Not but a thought of former times, Would sometimes fill my head ; But, like a recollected dream, Soon these ideas fled. " About this time, to Lowther Hall,* By old Sir Michael sent, All gaily mounted and array'd, With lightsome heart I went. " Thro' Inglewood my journey lay, . A forest long and drear, But, clad in armour cap-a-pee, My bosom felt no fear. " But ere I had proceeded far Along the lonely course, *Lowther Hall, in Westmoreland, the seat of the Right Honour able the Earl of Lonsdale. Four villains from a thicket rush'd, And dragg'd me from my horse. " Resistance little could avail, All courage was in v.iin, They robb'd and stript me of my clothes, And left me in the lane. " Unaided thus, and closely bound, Sore bruis'd — in sad dismay, Expos'd amid the winter's storm, Beneath a hedge 1 lay.

" When Providence, whose guardian eye Still watches our distress, Sent Lancelot, of Eden side, My sufF'rings to redress. " Assisted by his faithful train, He rais'd me from the ground, And, with officious kindly care, Tied up each bleeding wound. •' Then raising me, all deadly pale, They plac'd me on a steed, a\nd Armthwaite Castle* being near, There carried me with speed. *, Armthwaite Castl.e, the seat of the late G. H. Melbourne. Esft. " Here such attention was employ'd, Essential to my case, That long I linger'd not ; their care Recover'd me apace. " Yet, tho' their kindest efforts serv'd My rankling pains to heal, Rescued from those, I was but doom'd Severer pains to feel. *' Within the castle liv'd a maid, Unknown to public fame, With ev'ry female beauty blest, And Bertha was her name. *• Yet doubtful was the maid's descent, Her lineage so unknown, That of her kindred no one knew, Unless the knight alone.

" I saw fair Bertha, and the sight Prov'd fatal to my rest ; I lov'd — nor by each effort tried That love could be suppress'd. " I saw, I lov'd, nor ought could sooth The fever of my soul ; Nor time, nor distance, nor resolve, The passion could controul. " With time, that conquers common cares, 1 found the flame increase, And absence render'd more acute The pain 'twas meant to eai,e. " With ardent suit I woo'd the fair, I won her virgin heart; She soon confest her bosom bore, With mine an equal part. " What joy the declaration gave, No language can define, And lovers only can conceive The transports that were mine. " Sir Lancelot I next address'd, And each persuasion tried, For his permission to espouse Fair Bertha as my bride. " With answers quite equivocal, The knight my suit amus'd, Nor ever plainly gave consent, Nor perfectly refus'd. " Tir'd with evasion — fir'd with love, I press'd the lovely fair To leave the castle, and with me One common fortune share.

" The yielding maid approv'd the plait, And in the silent night, To an adjacent church, unseen, We took our lonely flight. " The rev'rend father of the place Soon tied the Gordian knot ; And now I deem'd fair Bertha mine, All happiness my lot. '• Next day the convent we forsook, And, fornish'd with a guide, To my kind foster-father's hall I led my blushing bride. *• The good old man approv'd my choice", But blam'd the rash event, Yet promis'd speedily to gain Sir Lancelot's consent. " But now 'twas needful to proceed On some new mode of life, Besides myself, I had to care For a deserving wife. " Nor stopp'd Sir Michael's kindness here, In friendship ever warm ; For, with a father's care, for me He stock'd a neighbouring farm ! '• To husbandry accustom'd, I Each labour could pursue; And, tho' but young, fair Bertha, she The arts of dairy knew.

" Here, happy as the tuneful lark, Three joyous years I pass'd, Without one intervening care My happiness to blast. " Man's chiefest blessing, cheerful health, In exercise I found ; And, heav'n propitious, with success My various labours crown'd. " Amidst fatigue, my Bertha's smiles, The tedious hours beguil'd ; And, ere our second year was pass'd, She blest me with a child. " My happiness was now increas'd, Full lovely was the boy ; Our equal cares the infant shar'd, Bestowing equal joy. fi THE HERMITS TALE. (continued.)

Canto III

JtjUT, ah! how transient, and how vain Is ev'ry human hope! The real pleasures of this life Have but a little scope. " Uncertain of his future fate, Man does but little know ; Nor fears misfortune mid success, Till fate extends the blow. " So 'twas with me ; the morn of life, Unclouded, gaily pass'd, The genial outset made me hope It might for ever last. " Plac'd, as I thought, upon the top Of Fortune's giddy wheel, I soon was destine!, by just heav'n, A sad reverse to feel. " It chanc'd upon a holiday, By household business sent, With cheerful and unheeding heart, To fair Carlisle I went : " When, as I thro' the cloisters pass'd, Intent upon my way, I heard a female call aloud, Who beckon'd me to stay. " I turn'd aside towards the grate, That I her will might learn, But, as she wore the sacred veil, Her face could not discern.

" I thought I recognis'd the voice, But could not fancy where, That languid seem'd ; what I suppos'd, Th' effect of pious care." " Draw near," the rev'rend matron said. " Nor apprehensive be, I have a question to propose, Which you must answer me. " Were you not at De Morville's hall, Some twenty years ago, And knew you not a lady there ? Now, tell me, aye or no. " Like lightning bursting from a cload, The question shook my brain : — I humbly answer'd — " Holy Dame, Denial were in vain. " Yes, I was there ! 0, heav'n ! that now I had it not to say ; The pleasures of that night produc'd Me many a painful day." " Now, mark me well," the lady cried, " As truth I shall report, Since fallacy, I ween, would ill With my profession sort. " 'Twas I, with whom that fatal night You wander'd thro? the grove ; " 'Twas T, with whom beneath the bow'r, You held illicit love.

" So intimate as we had been, So fond the night before, I make no doubt you were surpris'd You ne'er beheld me more. " But when the reasons you shall hear, That caus'd this conduct strange, Whate'er were your opinions then, Must now for others change. " The noise and tumult of the night Had so derang'd my head, A burning fever the next day Confin'd me to my bed. " Nor till a month elaps'd, or more, Had I my health regain'd, And then, but then, alas! to know New cause of grief remain'd. " My health restor'd, from room to room Impatiently I flew, Of all I eagerly inquir'd What had become of you. •'But each research successless prov'd, Enquiry was the same, Since none of all our household train Had ever learnt your name. •' In pensive melancholy wrapp'd 1 spent a tedious year ; Nor tidings, during all that time, Of you could ever hear.

" Worn out, at length, with peevish spleen With all the world at strife, I suddenly resolv'd to change My dissipated life : " And the remainder of my days To dedicate to heav'n, In hopes, for faults and follies past, By pray'r to be forgiv'n. " With this resolve, I left the world, And sought this sacred place; And have, I hope, a part obtain'd Of mercy and of grace. " Full vicious was my former life, I own the shameful truth ; Yet penance hath, I hope, expung'd The errors of my youth. "Near twenty years within these walls Of solitude I've dwelt, But ne'er, in all my former life, Such real pleasure felt, •' But say, of all this lapse of time, Where has your dwelling been ? That from that hour I ne'er could see Whom most I would have seen. " Since that ill-fated night, at Brough, How have you led your life ?

Have you a family ? If so, Pray tell me who's your wife. " By accident I saw you pass ; Your form I thought I knew ; And, as I long had wish'd, 1 now Resolv'd to question you. " For, though secluded from the world, Howe'er the fault you blame, My heart still form'd a vacant wish, At least to know your name." " Dear object of each youthful hope," Cried I, " what would avail The recollection of those woes, Reviving in the tale. " But, since 'tis you that have requir'd Of me the painful task, It is but reason I recite What you've a right to ask. " Betimes in the subsequent morn Of that ill-fated night, I rose, and sought, but sought in vain, My heart's, my soul's delight. " I ask'd of ev'ry one I met, Unknowing whom I sought; Enquiry quite successless prov'd, Description serv'd me nought. " Your face, you well may recollect, I had not seen before ; Hid by the vizor which that night, Like all the rest, you wore.

" This, nat' rally, precluded me. Whatever might ensue, Or wheresoe'er we chanc'd to meet, From ever knowing vou. " De Morville and his friendly hall, In deep disgust I left; The thoughts of you alone, my soul Of ev'ry joy bereft. " Sunk in despair, a ling'ring year For you I sigh'd and pin'd; Whilst night and day your fancied form Was present to my mind. " At length the sad conflicting storm Subsided by degrees; My mind began to re-assume Its former wonted ease. " Amusements now I sought, amidst The circles of the gay; In beauty's charms new transports found, New pleasures in each day. " At length a female gain'd my heart; Tho' quite unknown to fame, Bred with a knight on Eden side, Fair Bertha was her name. " Grac'd with each charm that heav'n bestows, I sought her for my wife ; And now three years with her I've liv'd, The happiest in my life.

" As for myself, the humble truth I candidly shall own; • I am a foundling — and, of course, My family unknown. " Left with Sir Michael of the Moor, Fam'd for his courtesy, And Edmund is the name, they say, My parents left with me. " Whilst I my narrative concise, In humble style pursu'd, I mark'd strong agitation shook The lady as she stood ; " Whilst, ill suppress'd, the struggling groan Did inward grief betray ; But when I came to close the tale, She shriek'd, and swoon'd away. F " The holy sisterhood, alarm'd, To her assistance run, And from the earth, with kindly care, They rais'd the fainting nun. " All motionless awhile she lay, As in the arms of death ; Till kind restoratives applied, Recall'd the fleeting breath. " Thus, life recov'ring, to the train She said — " My friends, retire ; Since with this man an interview In secret I require.