XVI.

In dreamy thought I seem'd to stand
Before the Castle walls again,
Whose lofty towers, in order grand,

Frown'd over the surrounding plain,

In all the majesty of feudal pride;

High on the battlements the Norman pendants ride.

XVII.

In terror and amazement then

I heard a warlike blast

Resound beyond the woody glen,

Wild echoing from the west,
And instantly the portal gate swung free,
Admitting ingress to a company

XVIII.

Of men, in ancient armour dress'd,

Halberts and spears, large swords they bore;

One stately chief above the rest

A plumy helmet proudly wore,

Before his frown the stoutest heart might quail,
WALTHEOF, the Norman, lord of Allendale.

XIX.

A train of warriors guard a band

Of men disarm'd and bound,

Who wait the feudal chief's command,
And, anxious, listen every sound:

The Norman chieftain, as this band drew nigh,
Viewed them in triumph, with a scornful eye.

XX.

Henrich, the Norman hangman, came,

Engines of death in either hand

And soon a saxon chief of fame

d;

Stood sever'd from the captive band;

The murdering rope coil'd tightly round his throat, He soon hung lifeless o'er the Castle's moat.

XXI.

An awful silence reigned, while death,
In guise of hangman stood;

Ready with rope to choke the breath,

Or headsman's axe, to shed the blood Of victims, who stood pale and silent there, Eying their leader's corpse, in mute despair.

XXII.

WALTHEOF this dismal silence broke;

"Ye saxon churls attend:

I'll bind on you a heavier yoke,

Your stubborn souls to bend!

You see the fate of vassals who rebel :
Go-wait your sentence in the dungeon's cell.
Normans-secure the serfs with bars and bolts,
In the dark cells, and dungeon's deepest vaults."

XXIII.

The Normans drew their blades of steel,

And drove the Saxons on, like sheep Condemn'd the butcher's knife to feel,

Forward, to where the Castle's keep Open'd its ponderous gloomy barrier gate, Its iron jaws devouring men, like fate.

XXIV.

In this confusion I seem'd driven along, Speechless, with terror, in the saxon crowd; Horror held mute my nerveless palsied tongue ; My spirit sunk, to apathy subdu'd:

As thro' the cavern'd archways all were driven, From human aid cut off-no hope but heaven.

XXV.

Down many a dark and winding stair,

We reach'd the dungeon's dark abode;

A floor of clay-no light-no air

All life extinct, unless some toad

Crawl'd, blacker than the gloomy frightful den; A home for demons, but the grave for men.

XXVI.

The walls held rusty iron rings,

Chains, and rude manacles to bind ; And tools, whose torturing deadly stings, Men used to crucify their kind:

All these shone darkly, by the feeble ray

Of sickly taper, held to guide their way.

XXVII.

Each ring held two chain'd captives bound;
Rang'd by the wall, the saxon train
Where all secur'd the dungeon round,

One ring remain'd, and massy chain;
My lot seem'd now consign'd to these at last,
I stood alone the saxons all seem'd fast.

XXVIII.

The Normans turn'd to their last prey,
To fix the fatal yoke;

Their swords held resolute, to slay,

If I oppos'd-or spoke

In agony I scream'd aloud-the stroke

Of every arm and sword was rais'd-I shudder'd,

and awoke.

XXIX.

My grateful heart lept light and free,

To find myself alone;

My dream and fear—vacuity

Warriors and dungeon-gone.

A prayer of gratitude, that feudal times had fled,

I humbly raised to heaven, and turn'd again in

bed!

STANZA.

Away! to the battle field away!

The red-cross banner waves on high;
Heaven and our rights require to-day
Christians to conquer or to die.
Ah! this has often been the cry
That led to sanguinary war,
And many a hero's relics lie

On fields of carnage, spread afar
O'er this terraqueous globe of clay;
Victims of war, that now display

The follies of mistaken men, Who strive, by force, to govern mind; Religion's holy doctrine then Becomes a scourge among mankind. Vain man, how headstrong, vain, and blind! When selfish passions guide and rule ; Repentance following behind,

Exclaims at last, "forbear fond fool!"
Too late to save, the victims bleed,
Revenge and bitter hate succeed

To spread their poison o'er life's scene,
Where innocence and peace

Fly in alarm, where wars have been,
And turn not till they cease.