Rowena Harold | Page 4

Hell Rock.
On this a noble ship, one night, became a
wreck;
The cliffs resounded with the awful shock--
The
Demon-Wrecker thought too well his work was done!
Old Ragnor's Dungeons Grim.
Hewn out of solid rock, some fathoms deep
Old Ragnor's dungeons
lay.
A massive chain
Which two men scarce could move a foot away,

Joined door above to door below. Its strain
Upon the stone-cut stairs

still makes the flesh to creep.
Here faithful Eric found himself immured
To try if gloom and fear
Of tortures dire
Could wring from him a secret held more dear
Than
life itself. Nay! Famine, rack, and fire,
Swift death or tortures
slow--all, all should be endured
For his dear lady's sake. Though but a page
He'd learn to value truth
In word and deed
From her whose noble love inspired his youth

And taught him lessons from her living creed.
Her foe had thrown the
glove he dared take up the gage.
Eric Entombed.
Entombed alive! A struggling streak of light
Made visible the
gloom,--
His living shroud.
He felt himself alive yet without room
To live or
breathe. He groaned, then cried aloud,
"O God, while in this porch of
hell, be Thou my light!"
Next morn--if morn, it were--no count of hours,
The dungeon-tenant
kept,--
A silver ray
Woke hope afresh, as down a cord there crept
A basket
full of meats, while 'neath them lay
A lamp and tools, with hints
where he might try their powers.
Henceforth work's pulses guaged his night and day,
As sandstone
rock he bored.
His ear supplied,
By sound of sea, how much his axe had gored,
As
clearer came the welcome rush of tide.
Hope made his feeble lamp
effulgent as sun's ray!

The Rift in Hell Gate.
The first hole pierced, his head grew sick and faint.
To pray he tried;
no word
Escaped his lips.
Yet sure he felt his spirit's groanings heard,
As
prone he lay and gasped the air by sips;
For that he'd breathed so long,
was foul with dead men's taint.
His strength now grew with every stroke he plied.
At sound of sea
and men,
Death's clammy sweat
Was changed for drops that told of health
again,
While through his languid frame life's current swept,
It only
made him feel how nearly he had died.
At last his living tomb of rock was rent;
Though but a narrow rift
He yet had made
Enough; it did a horrid monster lift,
That clutched
him close and held aloft a blade;
He felt himself undone, when, lo!
God had deliv'rance sent.
The Crucified One.
So wildly beat his heart and throbbed his veins,
As morn's first
struggling gleam.
His rift net caught,
He e'en must follow its meandering beam,
Till
something on the walls his footsteps brought
To rest. He shuddered
as he saw the death-throe stains
Of some whose hands and ankles, staple-bound,
Had graved thereon
the sign
Of crucified.
"My God!" he cried, "such fate may yet be mine!"
He
turned and lo! close at his feet he spied
A note. A piercing wail then
woke the echoes round.

"To-morrow, Eric, will decide your fate.
Confess and you are free;
Else will you die
A death of torture, marks of which you'll see

Upon the walls around. Fly, Eric, fly,
This night, this very night, or it
will be too late!"
Eric Faithful Unto Death.
When Eric woke to thought, the light had flown,
With Hope upon its
wing
And left Despair.
One thought alone could light and comfort bring--

His secret--This, not death should from him tear.
Rowena's safe
retreat, he never would make known!
The rasp of grating chains and rush of air
Awoke the sleeping page
From frightful dreams.
A voice he heard. Alas! 'twas fierce with rage,

While on his sight there flashed the fitful gleams
Of warders' arms.
In haste they clangour down the stair.
"Come forth, young man! Sir Guy awaits above.
We dare not tarry
long;
He's mad this morn.
Keep up your heart, my son! Be firm, be strong!

A page, yet truer knight was never born!
Betray her not, brave
youth, as you esteem her love!"
Eric to be Crucified.
"Have rats and goblins eaten up your pride
And will you tell me now
What well you know?
The holy father, here, can loose your vow.

Still silent!" roared Sir Guy, "O there! Below
With him, and if rack
fail, let him be crucified."
"I fear not crucifixion, master mine,
As oath forsworn from fear

Of death. No pangs
Shall ever make me breathe to mortal ear
Her
safe retreat. Transfix me with your fangs
With speed; my life for hers
I freely will resign."
"Fear not, brave youth, Sir Guy doth go
This night to meet Prince
John,
Who claims the crown.
But we do hear our king will come anon;

Then woe to all who have incurred his frown!
For sure he'll
vengeance take on John and every foe."
To Die or Live?
At least he knew his fate--Condemned to die!
He bade farewell to all,
Then went below.
The darkness closed around him like a pall
The
dead. Yet drain the bitter cup of woe
For her, e'en to the dregs, he
would without a