Or melancholy's sickly mood, Or guilt, that humbly would express "Look, there she is, my Child! draw near; She fears not, wherefore should we fear? She means no harm;”—but still the Boy, To whom the words were softly said, Hung back, and smiled and blushed for joy, A shame-faced blush of glowing red! Again the Mother whispered low, "Now you have seen the famous Doe; From Rylstone she hath found her way Over the hills this sabbath-day; Her work, whate'er it be, is done, And she will depart when we are gone; Thus doth she keep, from year to year, Her sabbath morning, foul or fair." This whisper soft repeats what he Had known from early infancy. Bright is the Creature The Boy had seen her - as in dreams - yea more bright — But is she truly what she seems? He asks with insecure delight, Asks of himself- and doubts and still The doubt returns against his will: Of facts divulged, wherein appear For, 'spite of sober truth, that sees There lack not strange delusion here, And superstitious fancies strong, Which do the gentle Creature wrong. That bearded, staff-supported Sire, The spectacle-hath mounted high When Lady Aäliza mourned Her Son, and felt in her despair, The noble Boy of Egremound. From which affliction, when God's grace Rose up this stately Priory! The Lady's work, — but now laid low; To the grief of her soul that doth come and go, In the beautiful form of this innocent Doe: Which, though seemingly doomed in its breast to sustain A softened remembrance of sorrow and pain, Is spotless, and holy, and gentle, and bright, Pass, pass who will, yon chantry door; A vault where the bodies are buried upright! In the ruthless wars of the White and Red; Who dragged Earl Pembroke from Banbury church, Who hath a Page her book to hold, Earl Pembroke, slain so impiously! That slender Youth, a scholar pale, Wild notes she in his hearing sang, A of Nature's hidden powers; song That whistled like the wind, and rang Among the rocks and holly bowers. 'Twas said that she all shapes could wear; And oftentimes before him stood, Amid the trees of some thick wood, In semblance of a lady fair, And taught him signs, and shewed him sights, In Craven's dens, on Cumbria's heights; |