And he never walked to battle

More proudly than to die:

There was colour in his visage,

Though the cheeks of all were wan; And they marvelled as they saw him pass, That great and goodly man!

He mounted up the scaffold,

And he turned him to the crowd;
But they dared not trust the people,
So he might not speak aloud.
But he looked upon the heavens,
And they were clear and blue,
And in the liquid ether

The eye of God shone through!
Yet a black and murky battlement
Lay resting on the hill,

As though the thunder slept within-
All else was calm and still.

The grim Geneva ministers

With anxious scowl drew near,
As you have seen the ravens flock
Around the dying deer.

He would not deign them word nor sign,
But alone he bent the knee;

And veiled his face for Christ's dear grace
Beneath the gallows-tree.

Then radiant and serene he rose,

And cast his cloak away:

For he had ta'en his latest look

Of earth and sun and day.

180

192

204

A beam of light fell o'er him,

Like a glory round the shriven,
And he climbed the lofty ladder

As it were the path to heaven.
Then came a flash from out the cloud,
And a stunning thunder-roll;
And no man dared to look aloft,
For fear was on every soul.
There was another heavy sound,

A hush and then a groan;

And darkness swept across the sky-
The work of death was done!

1848.

216

William Edmondstoune Aytoun.

THE SHAMEFUL DEATH

THERE were four of us about that bed;
The mass-priest knelt at the side,
I and his mother stood at the head,
Over his feet lay the bride;

We were quite sure that he was dead,
Though his eyes were open wide.

He did not die in the night,

He did not die in the day,

But in the morning twilight
His spirit pass'd away,

When neither sun nor moon was bright,
And the trees were merely gray.

6

12

He was not slain with the sword,
Knight's axe, or the knightly spear,
Yet spoke he never a word

After he came in here;

I cut away the cord

From the neck of my brother dear.

He did not strike one blow,

For the recreants came behind,

In the place where the hornbeams grow,
A path right hard to find,

For the hornbeam boughs swing so,
That the twilight makes it blind.

They lighted a great torch then,
When his arms were pinion'd fast,
Sir John the knight of the Fen,
Sir Guy of the Dolorous Blast,
With knights threescore and ten,
Hung brave Lord Hugh at last.

I am threescore and ten,

And my hair is all turn'd grey, But I met Sir John of the Fen

Long ago on a summer day,

And am glad to think of the moment when

I took his life away.

I am threescore and ten,

And my strength is mostly pass'd,

But long ago I and my men,

When the sky was overcast,

18

24

30

36

And the smoke roll'd over the reeds of the

fen,

Slew Guy of the Dolorous Blast.

And now, knights all of you,
I pray you pray for Sir Hugh,
A good knight and a true,

42

1858.

And for Alice, his wife, pray too.

46

William Morris.

RIZPAH

<

17

WAILING, wailing, wailing, the wind over land

and sea

And Willy's voice in the wind, "O mother,

come out to me!"

Why should he call me to-night, when he
knows that I cannot go?

For the downs are as bright as day, and the full
moon stares at the snow.

We should be seen, my dear; they would spy us
out of the town.

The loud black nights for us, and the storm
rushing over the down,

When I cannot see my own hand, but am led

by the creak of the chain,

And grovel and grope for my son till I find my

self drenched with the rain.

8

Anything fallen again? nay-what was there left to fall?

I have taken them home, I have number'd the bones, I have hidden them all.

What am I saying? and what are you? do you come as a spy?

Falls? what falls? who knows? As the tree

falls so must it lie.

Who let her in? how long has she been? you

what have you heard?

Why did you sit so quiet? you never have spoken a word.

O-to pray with me-yes-a lady-none of their spies

But the night has crept into my heart, and begun to darken my eyes.

Ah-you, that have lived so soft, what should you know of the night,

12

16

The blast and the burning shame and the bitter frost and the fright?

I have done it, while you were asleep-you were only made for the day.

I have gather'd my baby together-and now you may go your way.

20

Nay-for it's kind of you, Madam, to sit by an old dying wife.

But say nothing hard of my boy, I have only an hour of life.