For thee I left my father's hall,
And flew to thy relief;
When, lo! 'near Chiviot's fatal hills
I met a Scottish chief.
Lord Malcolm's fon, whofe proffered love
I had refus'd with fcorn;
He flew my guards and feiz'd on me
Upon that fatal morn ;
And in these dreary hated walls
He kept me close confin'd;
And fondly fued and warmly prefs'd
To win me to his mind.
Each rifing morn increas'd my pain,
Each night increas'd my fear;
When wandering in this northern garb
Thy brother found me here.
He quickly form'd this brave defign
To fet me captive free;
And on the moor his horfes wait
Ty'd to a neighbouring tree.
Then hafte, my love, efcape away,
And for thyself provide;
And fometimes fondly think on her,
Who should have been thy bride.
Thus pouring comfort on my foul
Even with her latest breath,
She gave one parting fond embrace,
And clos'd her eyes death.
In wild amaze, in fpeechlefs woe,
Devoid of fenfe I lay :
Then fudden all in frantic mood
I meant myfelf to flay:
And rifing up in furious hafte
I feiz'd the bloody brand:*
A turdy arm here interpos'd,
And wrench'd it from my hand.
A crowd, that from the caftle came,
Had mifs'd their lovely ward;.
And feizing me to prifon bare,
And deep in dungeon barr'd.
It chanced that on that very morn
Their chief was prifoner ta'en :
Lord PERCY had us foon exchang'd,
And trove to footh my pain.
And foon those honoured dear remains
To England were convey'd :
And there within their filent tombs,
With holy rites were laid.
For me I loath'd my wretched life,
And long to end it thought;
Till time, and books, and holy men
Had better counfels taught.
They rais'd my heart to that pure source,
Whence heavenly comfort flows:
They taught me to defpife the world,
And calmly bears its woes.
No more the flave of human pride, :
Vain hope, and fordid care :
I meekly vow'd 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,
*nd facred altars raise ;
And here a lonely Anchorite.
I came to end my days.
This fweet fequefter'd vale I chofe, Thefe rocks and hanging grove; For oft befide that murmuring ftream My love was wont to rove.
My noble friend approv'd my choice;
This bleft retreat he gave:
And here I carv'd her beauteous form,
And fcoop'd this holy cave.
Full fifty winters, all forlorn,
My life I've lingered here;
And daily o'er this fculptured faint
I drop the penfive tear.
And thou dear brother of my heart,
So faithful and so true,
The fad remembrance of thy fate
Still makes my bofom rue.
Yet not unpitied pass'd my life,
Forfaken, or forgot,
The PERCY and his noble Sons
Would grace my lowly cot.
Oft the great Earl from toils of ftate,
And cumbrous pomp of power,
Would gladly feek my little cell
To spend the tranquil hour.
But length of life is length of woc,
I liv'd to mourn his fall:
I liv'd to mourn his godlike Sons,
And friends and followers all.
But thou the honours of thy race,
Lov'd youth, fhalt now restore;
And raise again the PERCY name
More glorious than before.
He ceas'd, and on the lovely pair
His choiceft bleffings laid :
While they with thanks and pitying tears
His mournful tale repaid.
And now what prefent courfe to take
They asked the good old fire;
And guided by his fage advice
To Scotland they retire.
Mean-time their fuit fuch favour found
At RABY's ftately hall,
Earl Neville and his princely Spouse
Now gladly pardon all.
She fuppliant at her Nephew's throne.
The royal grace implor'd:
To all the honours of his race
The PERCY was reftor'd.
The youthful Earl still more and more
Admir'd his beauteous dame;
NINE noble SoNs to him fhe bore,
All worthy of their name.
*King Henry V. Anno 1414,
*The account given in the foregoing ballad of young PERCY, the fon of HOTSPUR, is confirmed by the following Extract from an old Chronicle formerly belonging to Whitby Abbey.
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