He rose, and straight

as by divine command, They who had waited for that sign to trace Their work's foundation, gave with careful hand To the high Altar its determined place;

Mindful of Him who in the Orient born

There lived, and on the cross his life resigned,
And who, from out the regions of the Morn,
Issuing in pomp, shall come to judge Mankind.

So taught their creed; nor failed the eastern sky, 'Mid these more awful feelings, to infuse

The sweet and natural hopes that shall not die,
Long as the Sun his gladsome course renews.

For us hath such prelusive vigil ceased;
Yet still we plant, like men of elder days,
Our Christian Altar faithful to the East,
Whence the tall window drinks the morning rays;

That obvious emblem giving to the eye
Of meek devotion, which erewhile it gave,
That symbol of the dayspring from on high,
Triumphant o'er the darkness of the

grave.

XXIX.

THE FORCE OF PRAYER*;

OR,

THE FOUNDING OF BOLTON PRIORY.

A TRADITION.

"What is good for a bootless bene?”
With these dark words begins my Tale;
And their meaning is, whence can comfort spring
When Prayer is of no avail?

"What is good for a bootless bene?” The Falconer to the Lady said;

66

And she made answer ENDLESS SORROW!"
For she knew that her Son was dead.

She knew it by the Falconer's words,
And from the look of the Falconer's eye;
And from the love which was in her soul
For her youthful Romilly.

Young Romilly through Barden woods Is ranging high and low;

And holds a Greyhound in a leash,

To let slip upon buck or doe.

* See the White Doe of Rylstone, ante.

The Pair have reached that fearful chasm,
How tempting to bestride!

For lordly Wharf is there pent in

With rocks on either side.

This Striding-place is called THE STRID,
A name which it took of yore:

A thousand years hath it borne that name,
And shall a thousand more.

And hither is young Romilly come,

And what may now forbid

That he, perhaps for the hundredth time,

Shall bound across THE STRID?

He sprang in glee,

for what cared he

That the River was strong, and the rocks were steep? But the Greyhound in the leash hung back,

And checked him in his leap.

The Boy is in the arms of Wharf,

And strangled by a merciless force;

For never more was young Romilly seen
Till he rose a lifeless Corse.

Now there is stillness in the Vale,
And deep, unspeaking, sorrow:
Wharf shall be to pitying hearts
A name more sad than Yarrow.

If for a Lover the Lady wept,
A solace she might borrow

From death, and from the passion of death;
Old Wharf might heal her sorrow.

She weeps not for the wedding-day
Which was to be to-morrow:
Her hope was a further-looking hope,
And hers is a Mother's sorrow.

He was a Tree that stood alone,
And proudly did its branches wave;
And the Root of this delightful Tree
Was in her Husband's grave!

Long, long in darkness did she sit,
And her first words were, "Let there be
In Bolton, on the Field of Wharf,
A stately Priory!"

The stately Priory was reared;
And Wharf, as he moved along,
To Matins joined a mournful voice,
Nor failed at Even-song.

And the Lady prayed in heaviness
That looked not for relief!

But slowly did her succour come,
And a patience to her grief.

Oh! there is never sorrow of heart
That shall lack a timely end,
If but to God we turn, and ask
Of Him to be our Friend!

XXX.

A FACT, AND AN IMAGINATION;

OR,

CANUTE AND ALFRED,

ON THE SEA-SHORE.

THE Danish Conqueror, on his royal chair,
Mustering a face of haughty sovereignty,
To aid a covert purpose, cried —“O ye
Approaching waters of the deep, that share
With this green isle my fortunes, come not where
Your Master's throne is set!". Absurd decree!
A mandate uttered to the foaming sea,

Is to its motion less than wanton air.

- Then Canute, rising from the invaded Throne,
Said to his servile Courtiers, "Poor the reach,
The undisguised extent, of mortal sway!
He only is a king, and he alone

Deserves the name (this truth the billows preach)
Whose everlasting laws, sea, earth, and heaven obey."
This just reproof the prosperous Dane

Drew, from the influx of the Main,

For some whose rugged northern mouths would strain

At oriental flattery;

And Canute (truth more worthy to be known)

From that time forth did for his brows disown

The ostentatious symbol of a Crown ;

Esteeming earthly royalty

Contemptible and vain.