SIR HUGH THE HERON.





A LEGENDARY TALE,



IN FOUR PARTS.



B Y G A B R I E L R O S S E T T I, J U N R.

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LONDON: MDCCCXLIII.



G. Polidori's Private Press,

15, Park Village East, Regent's Park.

(For Private Circulation only.)

       

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• 'Twas midnight; on the slumbering wave
• The moonbeams gently shone,
• Where interposed a darksome cave
• The placid scene upon.

• The pirate band have launched their boats
• Upon the waters blue;
• Above the masts in silence floats
• The banner of the crew.

• From yonder chapel on the shore
• 10 What sounds rise on the air?
• The blessed Virgin they implore;
• It is the voice of prayer.

• Within there knelt a gallant knight,
• And many a vassal bold;
• The baron's armour glittered bright
• With steel and ruddy gold.

• And o'er his burnished hood of mail,
• With pearls encircled round,
• The heron plume was seen to trail
• 20 And fall upon the ground.

• Beside him lay his blazoned shield,
• Cast on the marble floor;
• The heron on an azure field
• Upon it seemed to soar.

• And at his side, his trusty brand
• Had many a conflict seen,
• And many a strife, on border land,
• Of death, where he had been.

• Banners and shields adorn the walls,
• 30 Trophies of battles won;
• And armour, torn from Scottish halls
• To shine those walls upon.

• “What sounds invade my startled ear,
• Borne on the midnight wind?
• It is the clang of arms I hear:
• Now shield me, Virgin kind!”

• Thus spoke Sir Hugh; he braced his shield
• And donned his helmet bright;
• His sword around his head did wield,
• 40 And stood prepared for fight.

• The chapel door has opened wide,
• And all who there did stand,
• By torches high upheld, descried
• The rover and his band.

• Back starts their chief; his trembling frame
• Expressed surprise and fright;
• As, panting with desire for fame,
• Forth rushed th' undaunted knight.

• “St. George! St. George!” that piercing shout
• 50 Broke on the still midnight;
• The pirates in a mingled rout
• Betook themselves to flight.

• “Strike for the Heron!” was the word,
• And down upon the foe,
• Foot to foot, and sword to sword,
• They pressed with blow on blow.

• The gallant knight their passage clogs;
• None could his onset bide;
• “Down with the sacrilegious dogs!”
• 60 Resounds on every side.

• And the rush of the steeds, and the sound of the blows,
• And the battle's deafening yell,
• And the armour which clanked as the warrior rose,
• And rattled as he fell;

• And the rushing sound of the murderous bolts,
• Which rained like a storm of sleet,
• And the moan of the fallen wretch who shrank
• From the horses' prancing feet;

• And the shrieks of the flying, and the prayers of the dying,
• 70 As they rolled on their gory bed,
• And the soldier's start at the sound of the dart,
• As it whistled past his head;

• And the clash of the sword, and the gathering word,
• And the groans of wounded men,
• And the voices loud of the struggling crowd
• Re-echoed along the glen.

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• The pirate chieftain sprang to horse,
• He spared nor spur nor whip;
• He dashed o'er many a comrade's corse,
• 80 And gained his anchored ship.

• The bold Sir Hugh has followed him
• All through his desperate course;
• As, straining every nerve and limb,
• He spurred his flying horse.

• And now his daring foot he placed
• Upon the pirate's barge;
• And from his arm, in desperate haste,
• He cast his cumb'rous targe.

• A moment—in his mighty hand
• 90 His sword was gleaming high;
• The leader of the rover band
• Upon the deck doth lie.

• Another moment—and the grasp
• Of that fell pirate bold
• Relaxes—and his dying gasp
• His soul's departure told.

• And there he stood, that noble knight,
• Faint from the dubious fray;
• While bloody from the recent fight
• 100 His sword beside him lay.

• Is it th' illusion of a dream,
• Or weakness of his sight?
• When from the vessel there doth seem
• To rise a lady bright.

• She threw her trembling at his feet,
• And clasped his knees in fear;
• While down her countenance so sweet
• There rolled full many a tear.

• Sir Hugh he gently o'er her leant,
• 110 And asked her of her name,
• And by what fatal accident
• 'Mongst those fierce men she came.

• “I spring from a right noble stock,
• And Beatrice my name:
• My mansion on the castled rock
• To me by lineage came.

• “These rovers bore me from those walls
• Far o'er the distant main;
• And far from those ancestral halls
• 120 I ne'er must see again.

• “They rased my castle to the plain,
• Such was my adverse fate:
• My aged father they have slain,
• And left me desolate.”

• She said no more—with heaving breast
• She wept aloud and sighed:
• Her sobs her anxious fears expressed,
• While thus the knight replied.

• “Lady, I pray, thy grief dispel,
• 130 Yon fortress strong is mine,
• Where thou shalt be received well
• As doth befit thy line.”

• He took her gently by the hand,
• And raised her from the ground;
• When there approached his little band
• With drums' and trumpets' sound.

• A knight advanced towards the sea,
• Sir Aymer was his name;
• The cousin of Sir Hugh was he,
• 140 A knight of noble fame.

• “Kinsman,” he said, “it was but now
• I saw thee dealing death,
• With flashing eyes and burning brow,
• In fury on the heath.

• “And now I find thee with this maid,
• A stranger to our race;
• The slaughter of thy foemen staid
• To gaze upon her face.”

• Sir Hugh replied not, but he led
• 150 The lady up the hill,
• And quickly to his castle sped,
• Where she was safe from ill.

• They brought the spoils into the hall,
• In presence of the knight,
• But there was none he prized of all
• Like to that lady bright.

 

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• There is the bugle in Heron Hall,
• And buckling spur and brand,
• And banners snatched from off the wall
• 160 To wave in a foreign land.

• And many a noble lord was there,
• And many a lady bright,
• Who had come to speak a parting word
• To her own devoted knight.

• And the trampling chargers pawed the ground,
• And neighed impatiently,
• And the trumpet's brazen voice was heard,
• And it sounded cheerily.

• And the armour rang, and the soldiers sprang
• 170 To horse right merrily,
• And they laughed aloud in blithesome mood,
• And they whistled joyously.

• And the sun was bright with his glorious light,
• And he cheered the little band,
• And his beams did glance on every lance,
• And gilded every brand.

• And e'en the stern Sir Aymer smiled,
• And smoothed his brow of gloom,
• As the soft breeze kissed his rugged cheek,
• 180 And tossed his dancing plume.

• Hugh Heron bent him from his steed,
• And his face was ghastly pale,
• And the sunbeams shone his helm upon,
• And flashed against his mail.

• And he stooped him near to his kinsman's ear,
• And took his armed hand,
• And, “I go,” he said, “with my banners spread,
• To fight in a hostile land.

• “My love for Lady Beatrice
• 190 Thou hast not yet to learn,
• Nor how she is to be my bride
• Upon my safe return.

• “I leave her in thy hands, my friend,
• See thou protect her well,
• And let not word, nor thought, nor act
• Against thy charge rebel.

• “But if foully thou betray the trust
• Of thy friend beyond the sea,
• The winds as they moan shall find a tone
• 200 And bear the news to me.”

• Thus saying, from the fortalice
• His footsteps quick he wound:
• “He's gone,” sobbed Lady Beatrice,
• And fainted on the ground.

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• And oft she would mount to the rampart high
• Which looked across the sea,
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• And there she would watch the live long day,
• And she watched right patiently.

• And if she espied a coming sail
• Her sorrow disappeared,
• And she placed a light on the castle height,
• 210 For she thought her prayers were heard;

• And she would gaze with an anxious eye,
• Till it vanished o'er the main,
• And then her tears would flow once more,
• When she found her hopes were vain.

• One day she sat on the battlements,
• And her heart was sick with care,
• And her spirits sank within her breast,
• She felt so lonely there.

• And there came the plaintive sound of a harp,
• 220 And a knock at the outer gate:
• “A minstrel, maid,” Sir Aymer said,
• “For speech with thee doth wait.”

• He came—a venerable man,
• With tedious travel worn;
• He wandered from a Scottish clan,
• His garments soiled and torn.

• He sang of knights' and ladies' love,
• Of tournament and dance;
• What knight the best his truth did prove,
• 230 Who couched the strongest lance.

• “No more of this,” the lady said,
• “Tell me of mortal fight;
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• What warriors yielded up their breath,
• And deemed the pain but light

• “Compared to glorious victory
• O'er their oppressive foes;
• And there were proud that death to die,
• To end their country's woes.”

• The colour mantled to her cheek,
• 240 Her voice it rose full high;
• And when the bard began to speak,
• A tear was in her eye.

• “Lady,” he said, “I know of one,
• Lord of these lands so wide;
• He saved my bold and only son,
• While fighting by his side.”

• “Tell me of him,” exclaimed the fair,
• “Him whom I love so well!”
• And to a bold and martial air,
• 250 His voice began to swell.

 

• Towards the fatal field of Barnet*
• Who fierce onwards spurs his steed?
• Habited in sable harness,
• Soon, alas! too soon to bleed!

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• Forward prances bold his courser,
• Proudly tossing high his head;
• And his hoofs, as on he gallops,
• Seem to spurn the earth they tread.

• What arrests thine onward progress,
• 260 Madly rushing towards thy fate?
• Lo! a minstrel, old and hoary,
• Riseth up from where he sate.

• Backward starts th' affrighted charger;
• Clutched the knight his trusty brand:
• Wildly sounds that old man's lyre,
• Touched by some unearthly hand.

 

• Turn thee back, ere yet too late;
• Tempt not, rashly bold, thy fate:
• Dread the spell, and dread the tomb,
• 270Warrior of the Heron Plume.

• Many a knight on yonder field
• Sword and spear shall cease to wield:
• Many a one who scorned to yield
• 'Mid heaps of dead shall lie concealed,
• Pillowed on his shattered shield:
• Many a widow while she kneels
• Loud shall curse yon hated field,
• Where, lying amid blood congealed,
• Her much loved husband's fate was sealed
• 280 On Barnet's gory plain.

• There shall fall full many a knight
• In that most disastrous fight;
• Many a man of martial might
• Yonder shall to death be dight.
• Sounds shall rise upon the night,
• Sounds of that fierce battle's height.
• 'Tis revealed to my sight
• That, ere rise the morning light,
• Fallen in the cause of right
• 290 Shall many warriors lie.

• And thou shalt fall among the slain;
• The haughty victors shall not deign
• One glance upon thy dying pain:
• Thou, who had'st hoped thy spurs to gain,
• And whilst around thee blows did rain
• Thy firm position to retain,
• And from the sword of some proud Thane
• To save thy Prince upon that plain:
• Proud hopes, alas! but all in vain,
• 300 For thou shalt also fall.

• Then turn back, ere yet too late;
• Tempt not, rashly bold, thy fate;
• Dread the spell and dread the tomb,
• Warrior of the Heron Plume.

• Ceased that wild unearthly warning,
• Sunk the minstrel's upraised hand;
• Pallid grew the knight with anger,
• Glittering sparkled forth his brand.

• “From my path, thou doting wizard!
• 310 Tempt not England's sons to dread!
• Think not, by thy lying presage,
• Thus to stay me,” fierce he said.

• Wrapped the bard his mantle round him,
• But his visage showed no fear;
• Slowly, faintly, indistinctly,
• 'Gan his form to disappear.

• Round him glanced the knight in wonder,
• But no object meets his eye;
• Then, with rash and headstrong courage,
• 320 Onward spurs his horse to fly.

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• There is strife on bloody Barnet,
• After evening spreads her shade;
• Warriors join, in deadly struggle,
• Sounding shield and clashing blade.

• Round the corpse of fallen Warwick
• Clusters many a friendly band,
• Proud to save their slaughtered leader
• From th' insulting victor's hand.

• Onward press the conquering Yorkists,
• 330 Flushed with triumph and with rage;
• Still their foes, unyielding, fearless,
• The unequal warfare wage.

• Forward sweeps the mighty Edward,
• Laying low full many a man;
• And the bloody minded Richard,
• Fighting boldly in the van.

• Dreadful with their upraised axes,
• On that mighty torrent sped:
• The Lancastrians, faint and weary,
• 340 Breathing still defiance, fled.

• Downward on their sinking foemen
• Fierce th' exultant victors swayed:
• Ah! how many wretched widows
• Has that fearful slaughter made!

• Still, amid the falling squadrons,
• Boldly fighting, stands a knight;
• Still he faintly shouts his war cry,
• Gory is his armour bright.

• Fierce he wields his fatal weapon
• 350 'Mid that scene of blood and gloom;
• O'er his helm, in fallen grandeur,
• Droops the lordly heron plume.

• With his few surviving comrades
• Bold he makes one final charge;
• Desp'rate casts aside the weapons
• With his strong and trusty targe.

• Round them close their vengeful foemen,
• Raising high their glittering blades:
• Ah! alas! that fatal onslaught
• 360 Has dismissed their daring shades.

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• Light hath dawned on bloody Barnet,
• Gilding shattered sword and shield:
• War horse fall'n and breathless rider
• Lie upon that fatal field.

• There amid his butchered vassals,
• Grasping yet his shattered brand,
• Lies a knight; but fixed his features,
• Powerless his mighty hand.

• It is he who scorned the warning
• 370 Of that hoary minstrel seer!
• May his fate, so drear and awful,
• Strike his haughty race with fear!

• Far from his ancestral towers
• Lies Sir Hugh the Heron bold;
• Solely through his rash rejection
• Of that prophet minstrel old.

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• Her bosom heaved—her heart beat high;
• She gave her smothered sorrows vent;
• And to her chamber, with a sigh,
• 380 Her tottering footsteps faintly bent.

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• At the hour of drear midnight
• In yon chamber burns a flame,
• Through the darkness glittering bright,
• Lighting “deeds without a name.”

• 'Tis the time when on the earth
• Oft malignant fiends alight,
• Revelling in demon mirth;
• 'Tis the dread Walpurgis night.

• Fanning oft their flickering blaze,
• 390By those embers sits a man;
• Fixed on them his earnest gaze,
• Pale his haggard face and wan.

• Round the chamber there are spread
• Books of magic and of art;
• Words were writ there, which, 'twas said,
• Would restore the faithless heart:

• Talismans of wondrous might—
• Many a spell and amorous charm—
• Philtres too, which, swift as light,
• 400Would the coldest bosom warm.

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• Sudden from his task he starts—
• Hark! the sound of armed feet!
• Round a hasty glance he darts,
• With the fear of death replete.

• Through the chamber as he gazed,
• Entered there an armed knight;
• Quick his visor he hath raised,
• Breathless from the mortal fight.

• Rich his arms with sculptured gold,
• 410Soiled and dim with many a stain;
• Well his gory pole-axe told
• Of the lives of foemen slain.

• Many a blow that morn had rung
• On his dinted shield and crest;
• Stained with blood his surcoat hung,
• Thrown across his armed breast.

• “Show me quickly,” fierce he cried,
• “My domains and feudal halls;
• Let me see my promised bride,
• 420Lone within the castle walls.”

• Forth the seer has stretched his hand,
• Muttering some unholy name;
• Tracing circles with his wand,
• Words from out his lips there came.

• Fiercely stamping on the ground,
• Loudly on the fiend he calls:
• Answering low, a distant sound
• On his anxious ear there falls.

• Then upon the stony floor
• 530Quick his potent wand he cast:
• With a hushed and far-off roar,
• Through that chamber swept a blast.

• And upon that blast there came
• Words of more than mortal might:
• Straight that ample room became
• Darker than the blackest night.

• Now the darkness partly clears,
• And, where lately nought had been,
• There a mirror vast appears,
• 630Of the brightest crystal sheen.

• Eager gazed the armed knight
• On that glassy surface clear;
• Dubious in the varying light,
• Figures indistinct appear.

• Backward starts the bold Sir Hugh
• As those misty objects glide:
• What he saw that wizard knew,
• But no mortal soul beside.

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• Echoing rolls the distant thunder;
• 640Lightning flashes, pelts the hail:
• From the murky clouds, the demons
• Loudly laugh, blaspheme, and wail.

• Lo! where wildly, madly rushes
• O'er the heath yon armed form!
• Dashing through the entangled bushes;
• Heedless of the raging storm.

• Bright his burnished armour flashes,
• Ruddy in the lightning's glare:
• Loudly screams the startled eagle,
• 650Frighted from his rocky lair.

• O'er the now dismantled barrier
• Of the smoke-enshrouded walls,
• Where some wretch, disarmed and wounded,
• Faintly yet for mercy calls:

• Where yon helpless maiden, flying
• From some heartless villain's chase,
• Plunges 'midst the blazing ruins,
• Better than his foul embrace:

• Through these scenes of blood and carnage
• 660Fierce the knight pursued his way;
• Under his resistless weapon
• Many a foeman bleeding lay.

• Swift he passed the burning city,
• Leaving many a corpse behind;
• And embarked for merry England,
• Favoured by a friendly wind.

 

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• Her eye gazed wildly on the cross; her thoughts were far away;
• Unheeded o'er her marble cheek the tear-drops found their way;
• Her listless fingers o'er her beads mechanically dart,
• 670But a fire was burning in her brain, and the worm was at her heart.

• And he was dead! the only tie that bound her yet to earth:
• And he was dead! and all her hopes had withered in the birth:
• More frequent were her stifled sobs, and deep-drawn came her breath,
• And she felt a sickness at the heart, and a longing after death.

• And in this world she was alone; this world so vast and wide!
• To run her solitary course, with none her steps to guide:
• Yes, there was one; and now to him she raised her streaming eyes,
• And she felt her drooping soul rejoice, and her sinking spirits rise.

• She prayed that still she might pursue the straight and narrow path,
• 680Though fallen was her only friend, and desolate her hearth:
• And that she might be brought to him, and might with him be blest,
• “Where the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest.”

• Poor Beatrice! she little thought that he might not be dead,
• Nor dreamt she of the rising storm that gathered round her head;
• She little thought that unto her, her guardian might incline,
• Nor dreamt she that the tale she heard might favour his design.

• Anon she heard an armed tread sound from the corridor,
• Which stayed not in its onward course till it reached her chamber door;
• And hastily she sat her down, and her panting heart beat high,
• 690As she heard Sir Aymer access beg, and gave him her reply.

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• But now she starts to see him kneel, beseeching at her feet;
• The pressure of his hand to feel; his earnest gaze to meet.
• “Ah! pardon,” cried th' empassioned knight, “the fault† thy charms dictate;
• And do not with one fearful blight for ever seal my fate.”

• The lady checked the rising tear; “Thy knighthood do not stain,
• Betray not thus that friendship dear reposed in thee in vain.
• Bethink thee of thy kinsman's love thou would'st so foully mar,
• The while his loyalty to prove he fights in climes afar.

• “And dread that kinsman's wrathful mood, if he return to see
• 700Defeated thus his fond desire; his hopes deceived in thee.”
• In vain she pleads; his brawny arm her waist encircled round;
• The lady raised, in dire alarm, her voice with fearful sound.

• “Fair Beatrice,” exclaimed the knight, “your cries are heard by none;
• With horse and hound to the blythe greenwood my followers are gone;
• Two trusty vassals only, love, are left to guard the door,
• While their comrades bold, o'er the trackless wold, hunt down the tusky boar.

• “Lady, I love thee to excess; oh yield to my desire!
• Lady, the passion in my breast is like a raging fire—
• And though rivals were thick as the acorns are, and with mail were covered o'er,
• 710I'd make the pass good, as a noble should, and as oft I've done before.

• “Perchance you have forgot that night, when the mirth was loud and long,
• And the hall so bright was a blaze of light, and time sped fast along,
• When all our nobles danced and sang, and the wassail bowl passed round,
• And you mocked at me, as I sat apart, with my eyes bent on the ground.

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• “'Twas my hopeless love which made me then sit silent and alone;
• (Since I saw thee, fair Beatrice, my time has sadly flown:)
• Then come unto these arms, dear love, and yield thee to my prayer,
• And show that thou art kind, dear love, as kind as thou art fair.”

• He cast his arm around her waist; he pressed her to his side;
• 720He held her in his powerful grasp although she loudly cried:—
• 730But hark! sure 'twas the clash of arms resounding from the shore!
• He let go the maid, and forth gleamed his blade, as he hurried towards the door.

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• The heron plume waved o'er his brow; his sword was in his hand;
• He pointed to his kinsman's blade with a gesture of command:
• But fixed upon Hugh Heron was Sir Aymer's vacant stare;
• He seemed not yet to comprehend that truly he stood there.

• “Turn, recreant knight and faithless friend; turn, ere I strike thee dead;
• Turn, ere my lawful vengeance fall upon thine impious head.”
• They fought, till from their polished mail the blood came dropping down,
• But still they combatted unmoved, and their swords went whirling round.

• 740Sir Hugh has made a furious thrust, and grazed his kinsman's arm,
• And from the wound, though small to sight, the blood came spouting warm;
• Then fainter grew the wounded knight, till broken was his sword,
• And from his injured kinsman he received his just reward.

• Then stepped the knight to the lady bright, and took her beauteous hand;
• “I knew thy danger, Beatrice, while yet in a far land:
• And the first sound that I heard, love, when to my halls I came,
• Was thy voice, love, raised in agony, and calling on my name.”