WAITING FOR TIDINGS OF THE BATTLE-KNARES-
BURGH.
ALL day the castle ramparts rang
With martial tread and armour clang,
All day the anxious sentinel
List to the sounds upon the gale,
And strove with piercing glance to spy
Some signs of war on earth or sky;
Above, each gust of wind unrolled
The broad white standard's ample fold,
That flag which scorned the Scottish might,
And dared the Douglas to the fight,
When Randolph plied the wanton torch
In transept, aisle, and sculptured porch,
Ere on their drear and blackened track
The fierce marauders hurried back;
That standard waves as proudly now
High o'er the precipice's brow,
And cheer or stern defiance sends
Far o'er the vale to foes or friends.
Beneath, the broad white circle round
Of rampart marked the castle's bound,
And, rising at brief interval,
Ten sturdy bastions break the wall,
And high o'er moat and dizzy steep
Their stern and silent vigil keep;
And far that precipice below
The winding Nidd in rippling flow
Dances through sun and shade along
With murmurs of her summer song,
And pours amid the whispering trees
Her lay of soft melodious ease,
While cliff and crag in fainter strain
The slumbrous resonance retain,
And the deep vale from base to brow
Thrills with a cadence sweet and low.
All day the eager soldiers crowd,
Where bastion roof advantage shewed,
To trace Prince Rupert's Yorkward track
From Ure through Galtrees' forests black,
And read the signs of distant war
In cloudy columns rolling far
From Bootham's battlemented Bar.
Flushed with the free and fierce debauch,
Or haggard from the night-long watch,
'Twas strong excitement stayed the brain.
With reckless scorn of sleep and pain,
And fired and kept alive the spark
That flashed beneath each eyebrow dark,
And ever as their glances turned
Eastward, that spark more fiercely burned,
As if each eye had caught the fire
That flashed from minster pane and spire,
And glowed responsive to the ray
With promise of some wild affray.
And oft they spoke in tones of glee
Of raid and foray far and free,
Of Rupert's task, so bravely done,
Of leaguer broke and battle won;
Forgot was trencher, bowl and board
In episodes of war and sword;
The tables in the courtyard spread
With bounteous tale of beef and bread,
And rows of foaming tankards stood
Unheeded by those men of blood.
Unheeded too the treacherous calm,
The fitful gusts presaging storm,
The distant moors, that dark and clear,
Near and more near each hour appear,
Till upland copse and rugged height
Reveal their secrets to the sight,
And bursts upon the landscape fair
The sudden storm in middle air.
E'en then no shrinking soldier stirred,
Or fled the tale but partly heard,
But crouching where the rampart lent
The shelter of its battlement
Drank in the accents fierce and rude
That told of some dark deed of blood.
Swift as it came, the storm has sped,
Breathing defiance as it fled,
And scornful, gathering from afar
Its trailing skirts for future war,
Till fold on fold against the sky
Combine in columns vast and high,
And, sweeping on in stately wrath,
The storm-cloud darkens all its path,
Leaving its track o'er leaf and blade
More splendrous for the transient shade.
Scarce had the soldiers deigned a look,
Or rain-drop from their harness shook,
Ere sudden as an earthquake shock
On wall and keep deep thunders broke
Out from the silent sky,
And ere they reach the neighbouring hill,
Or Nidd's wild steeps with echoes thrill,
Or crag and copse reply,
The clashing harness loudly rings,
As to his feet each soldier springs,
And bending o'er the battlement,
Turns eastward eye and ear attent
To read upon the summer air
The signs and sounds of Rupert's war.
Save that each eye with rapture shone,
Ye might have deemed them carved in stone
Or effigies of warriors gone,
Such strong restraint each frame subdued,
And stayed the tumult of their blood,
Until against the eastern sky
The spectre cloud rose pale and high,
And over wold and forest threw
A gauzy veil of misty blue,
While from the eastward broke once more
Low murmurs of the cannon's roar;
Then, "Rupert, Rupert," rent the air,
""Tis Rupert on the Scottish rear,
Rupert has struck the rebel host,
And hurled Lord Leven from his post;
'Tis Rupert wakes the battle din,
And crowns yon crest with culverin;
'Tis Rupert leads the furious charge,
Where Knavesmire gives free field and large,
Unbroken by or stream or wood,
To tame the fierce marauders' blood,
And wreak revenge their ranks among
For centuries of Yorkshire's wrong."
THE FIRST MESSENGER OF NEWS-KNARESBURGH.
BUT louder with the evening's close
The thunders of the battle rose,
And Yorkward, far as eye can strain,
Low banks of smoke obscured the plain,
And from them issuing far and high
Broad beams of light illumed the sky,
Such as the clouded dawn displays
Ere morn reveals her glowing face;
Half o'er the vaulted heaven they shone
Divergent as from rising sun,
While still behind the reddening west
Sinks the low sun in clouds to rest;
'Tis summer eve, yet summer dawn
Seems in the dying day new-born; *
Presage, as once the steadfast sun
To Hebrew eyes in Ajalon
Of victory and Heaven's accord
Of triumph to the rightful sword.
And now the sounds of war have ceased,
The cloud is melting from the east,
The shadows of declining day
Fade into summer twilight gray;
Yet still upon the Yorkward road
In groups the impatient townsmen strode
* Rayons de crépuscule. This phenomenon is very rarely seen in northern latitudes. The author has seen it in such vivid splendour in Ceylon, that he turned again and again towards the setting sun and recalled the events of the past day before he could assure himself that it was not the approach of dawn which he was beholding.
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