Poems in Two Volumes, vol 1 | Page 5

had claim'd the Lordship?By the proof upon the Horn:?Each at the appointed hour?Tried the Horn, it own'd his power;?He was acknowledged: and the blast?Which good Sir Eustace sounded was the last.
With his lance Sir Eustace pointed,?And to Hubert thus said he,?"What I speak this Horn shall witness?For thy better memory. 20 Hear, then, and neglect me not!?At this time, and on this spot,?The words are utter'd from my heart,?As my last earnest prayer ere we depart."
"On good service we are going?Life to risk by sea and land;?In which course if Christ our Saviour?Do my sinful soul demand,?Hither come thou back straightway,?Hubert, if alive that day; 30 Return, and sound the Horn, that we?May have a living House still left in thee!"
"Fear not," quickly answer'd Hubert;?"As I am thy Father's son,?What thou askest, noble Brother,?With God's favour shall be done."?So were both right well content:?From the Castle forth they went.?And at the head of their Array?To Palestine the Brothers took their way. 40
Side by side they fought (the Lucies?Were a line for valour fam'd)?And where'er their strokes alighted?There the Saracens were tam'd.?Whence, then, could it come the thought,?By what evil spirit brought??Oh! can a brave Man wish to take?His Brother's life, for Land's and Castle's sake?
"Sir!" the Ruffians said to Hubert,?"Deep he lies in Jordan flood."-- 50 Stricken by this ill assurance,?Pale and trembling Hubert stood.?"Take your earnings."--Oh! that I?Could have seen my Brother die!?It was a pang that vex'd him then;?And oft returned, again, and yet again.
Months pass'd on, and no Sir Eustace!?Nor of him were tidings heard.?Wherefore, bold as day, the Murderer?Back again to England steer'd. 60 To his Castle Hubert sped;?He has nothing now to dread.?But silent and by stealth he came,?And at an hour which nobody could name.
None could tell if it were night-time,?Night or day, at even or morn;?For the sound was heard by no one?Of the proclamation-horn.?But bold Hubert lives in glee:?Months and years went smilingly; 70 With plenty was his table spread;?And bright the Lady is who shares his bed.
Likewise he had Sons and Daughters;?And, as good men do, he sate?At his board by these surrounded,?Flourishing in fair estate.?And, while thus in open day?Once he sate, as old books say,?A blast was utter'd from the Horn,?Where by the Castle-gate it hung forlorn. 80
'Tis the breath of good Sir Eustace!?He is come to claim his right:?Ancient Castle, Woods, and Mountains?Hear the challenge with delight.?Hubert! though the blast be blown?He is helpless and alone:?Thou hast a dungeon, speak the word!?And there he may be lodg'd, and thou be Lord.
Speak! astounded Hubert cannot;?And if power to speak he had, 90 All are daunted, all the household?Smitten to the heart, and sad.?'Tis Sir Eustace; if it be?Living Man, it must be he!?Thus Hubert thought in his dismay,?And by a Postern-gate he slunk away.
Long, and long was he unheard of:?To his Brother then he came,?Made confession, ask'd forgiveness,?Ask'd it by a Brother's name, 100 And by all the saints in heaven;?And of Eustace was forgiv'n:?Then in a Convent went to hide?His melancholy head, and there he died.
But Sir Eustace, whom good Angels?Had preserv'd from Murderers' hands,?And from Pagan chains had rescued,?Liv'd with honour on his lands.?Sons he had, saw Sons of theirs:?And through ages, Heirs of Heirs, 110 A long posterity renown'd,?Sounded the Horn which they alone could sound.
THE AFFLICTION of MARGARET ---- OF ----

Where art thou, my beloved Son,?Where art thou, worse to me than dead??Oh find me prosperous or undone!?Or, if the grave be now thy bed,?Why am I ignorant of the same?That I may rest; and neither blame,?Nor sorrow may attend thy name?
Seven years, alas, to have received?No tidings of an only child;?To have despair'd, and have believ'd, 10 And be for evermore beguil'd;?Sometimes with thoughts of very bliss!?I catch at them, and then I miss;?Was ever darkness like to this?
He was among the prime in worth,?An object beauteous to behold;?Well born, well bred; I sent him forth?Ingenuous, innocent, and bold:?If things ensued that wanted grace,?As hath been said, they were not base; 20 And never blush was on my face.
Ah! little doth the Young One dream,?When full of play and childish cares,?What power hath even his wildest scream,?Heard by his Mother unawares!?He knows it not, he cannot guess:?Years to a Mother bring distress;?But do not make her love the less.
Neglect me! no I suffer'd long?From that ill thought; and being blind, 30 Said, "Pride shall help me in my wrong;?Kind mother have I been, as kind?As ever breathed:" and that is true;?I've wet my path with tears like dew,?Weeping for him when no one knew.
My Son, if thou be humbled, poor,?Hopeless of honour and of gain,?Oh! do not dread thy mother's door;?Think not of me with grief and pain:?I now can see with better eyes; 40 And worldly grandeur I despise,?And fortune with her gifts