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Erect he stands—no vain alarm,

No fear of death appals,
And many a foeman by his arm,

Drops from the castle walls.
But courage must be crush'd at last

In such unequal fight:
The best and bravest blood flows fast,

And quenches glory's light.
Fearfully rolls the tempest there,

And vengeance breathes around, The thunder bursts and rends the air,

And shrieks along the ground.
The castle rocks at every blow

Upon its giant frame;
The raging fire ascends, and lo!

The tow'r is wrapt in flame. “ Your will ? " cried John a' Schaffelaar,

“ Your will ? my comrades true! Though thoughts of self are banish'd far,

I still can moum for you.”
Oh! yield to them-give up the tow'r!"

To Schaffelaar they call, “We cannot now withstand their pow'r,

Yield, or we perish all." “ The flames are round us and our fate

Is certain," was the cry; « Then yield, oh! yield ! ere 'tis too late !

Amid the smoke we die.” “ We yield it then," the hero cried,

“ We yield it to your might, We bow our stubborn necks of pridem

Ye conquerors in the fight.” “ No! no!” exclaim'd the furious crowd,

A ransom we require; A ransom-quick!" they call'd aloud,

“ Or perish in the fire !” “ What is your wish ?-no more we war:

They cry to those without. “ We would have John a' Schaffelaar,”

The furious rabble shout. “ Never! by heaven !-we yield him not,”

They cry as with one voice; “ If death must be our leader's lot,

We'll share it and rejoice!" Hold! on your lives!” with lifted hand

Said Schaffelaar the free“Whoe'er opposes their demand

Is not a friend to me. “ Mine was th' attempt, be mine the fate,

Since we in vain withstood;
On me alone would fall the weight

Of all your guiltless blood.
“ The flames draw nearer--all is o'er-

And here I may not dwell; Give me your friendly hands once more

For ever fare ye well!”

a

He rushes from his trusty men,

Who would in vain oppose,
And from the narrow loop-hole then

He springs amid his foes.
Here have ye John a' Schaffelaar-

No longer battle wagem
Divide and banquet, hounds of war !

And satisfy your rage.
“ Now sheathe your swords and bear afar

The muskets that we braved ;
Here have ye John a' Schaffelaar-

My comrades true are saved.'
His limbs were writhing on the ground

In death's convulsive thrill;
The blood-drops that are shed around

With shame his foemen fill.
The sounds of war no more arisë,

And banish'd is the gloom,
But glory's wreath, which never dies,

Surrounds the hero's tomb.
Let him who would Rome's Curtius name

Give Schaffelaar his due,
Who was, though lauded less by fame,
The nobler of the two.

V. D.

FOREST LEGENDS

No. 1.

THE ARCHER OF ULVESCROFT. In the forest of Charnwode, at a and the clustering ash. The vicinity considerable distance from any pub- of Ulvescroft still preserves a large lic road, deeply situated in a vale portion of this interesting foliage, whose bosom is watered by a mean- partly, we will hope, from a respect dering stream, stands all that now to the ruined pile which graces its remains of the once goodly priory of valley, and partly from the rocky Ulvescroft!

surface, that bids defiance to all agriIn the time of the Edwards, the cultural improvements. Whichever Henrys, and even Mary, this priory motive may have actuated its owners, possessed no mean advantage in the dell in which the priory stands is point of monastic grandeur. It was of itself sufficiently picturesque to the abode of Eremites, of the order attract the notice of every lover of of St. Augustine, and was endowed woodland scenery. Retired and sowith many privileges, amongst which litary, it is inclosed on almost every an unbounded right of hunting or side by high and rocky eminences, hawking over the adjoining wastes about whose sides the twisted and was none of the smallest.

knotty oaks assume a thousand groThe forest in which this edifice tesque forms, according as their roots was erected, though still abounding have found the means of penetrating in bold and beautiful yet somewhat their granite beds. A gentle brook barren scenery, at the period alluded waters this lovely spot-a brook so to bore no want of vegetation ; it fair, so romantic in its course, that was covered with foliage, so thick Leland in his writings has taken and verdant as to exhibit one ample occasion to mention it. As it apgrove of stately oaks, softened and proaches the little town of Newtown variegated by the birch, the beech, Linford, it assumes a bolder surface;

It was

but here, it murmurs softly and held his right of chacing the deer by peacefully over its rocky bed. grants from his sovereign.

The ruins of Ulvescroft priory immaterial to him who winced under stand in solemn grandeur, betwixt these privileges, and he spared neithis stream and the adjoining emi- ther the red nor the fallow, when it nence, rather to the west. One tower suited him to indulge in the recreaand a considerable portion of one tion. Indeed, so freely and so freside of the building yet remain, and quently did he hunt, that it became seem in tolerable preservation, at proverbial in the mouths of his eneleast as far as regards its pointed mies: arched door-way and windows. The Seeke the deere in his lair, tower may even yet be ascended Friar Whatton is there. nearly to its summit, although some In hunting, hawking, or netting, of its steps are in a precarious con- Prior Whatton was indeed an adept. dition. Two stone niches, which seem Every corner of the forest rang at to have contained benches, are like- intervals with the notes of his bugle. wise perceptible within the interior The swift-footed animals started at of the building, probably belonging the sound of it, they left their leafy to the chancel. Although this ruin beds, and shook the dew from their is neither so extensive in its di- haunches, with the terror and the mensions, nor in such high preserva- fleetness of those who fly for freetion as many others, it exhibits so dom! The very trice cock fluttered chaste and solemn an appearance, in his plumage, and fled fearfully from the midst of its lonely situation, that the branch on which he was reposing, it is impossible to look upon it with- as its lengthened tones were echoed out the mind reverting to what it through the vallies. must have been in former ages.

Yet expert as the Prior was at About the middle of the fifteenth this his favourite diversion, he could century, the priory of Ulvescroft was not always boast of success; there in its glory; it was rich in lands were seasons when the wary animal, and high in reputation, not only as despite of the most active exertions regarded the piety and good conduct of his enemies, would keep long at of its superior, but for the charity bay, and finally baffle the skill of his extended to the neighbouring poor. pursuers. Prior Whatton was, in truth, a good It was on an occasion of this kind, and a pious man,-but he had one after a lengthened chace, when the failing, if failing it might be termed, stag had made good his retreat and where an unbounded latitude was found a secure covering in the wiles given; he loved the pleasures of the of the forest, when both men and chace, and he entered into them with dogs were at fault, that Whatton, an avidity hardly to be looked for disgusted by the ill success of the even in those more connected with morning's amusement and scarcely the world. Yet, although this might conscious of what he was about, be termed a failing on the part of turned his horse's head from the Whatton, it was not considered in- party who had accompanied him, compatible with his situation as and, striking suddenly into another Prior, such diversions being allow- part of the forest, motioned as though able in the heads of monastic insti- he would be alone. No one pretutions at that period; but Whatton sumed to follow him; the Prior of followed his privilege to its extent. Ulvescroft was too exalted in situa

The red deer of Charnwode were tion to admit of his orders being in high estimation, not only on ac- treated with neglect; and Whatton, count of their superior flavour, but with that listlessness which usually for the superior sport they yielded in attends the disappointment of our the field ; and the Earls Ferrers and wishes, rode for some time alone. Leicester, as well as the Lord Hast. But the defeat of his morning's exings, at that time the possessor of ertions was not the only cause for Witwicke, looked with no small jea- chagrin that Whatton at that molousy upon the encroachments made ment had in his heart;-he had reby the Superior on this their favour- cently received intelligence that the ite breed. But Whatton cared little owner of Witwicke, whose ample for the rebuffs of these noblemen; he possessions, and fair park, rendered him as formidable as any noblemán ment met his, and there seemed so on that side the county, and with much of mute expression in them, whom the inhabitants of the priory that Whatton read, or fancied he were at variance, had suddenly vi- read, the creature's meaning. sited his castle with a numerous com- « Chantress," he said, “ thou pany of friends, and it was a cir- wert wont to do thy duty without cumstance of too much import not failing, my old girl. But thou hast to dwell upon the mind of the Prior. baulked thy master this morning. We · Their quarrel had its source, like must have more mettle another time.” many others, from a question concern- Accustomed to his voice, the hound ing forest rights, and it had been pur- fawned upon him, but whilst in the sued so long, and with so much acri. act of so doing, she turned round mony on both sides, that a total es-' with a celerity that showed there was trangement had taken place between no want of animation, and that neithem; the monks not choosing to ther age nor fatigue had as yet dulled yield one inch of their prerogative, and her senses. With one ear thrown the Lord Hastings, in the plenitude of back upon her neck, and her nose to his power, looking for, and exacting the ground, she gave the usual deep more than seemed consistent either tongue when in pursuit of game, and with good nature or generosity. in an instant was lost to the sight of

Whatton had rode over several her master. Surprised by the action miles of hill and dale before he be- of the dog, the Prior remained irrecame really conscious that he had solute what course to pursue: the left his companions-so much had his hound had fled in the direction of the mind been engrossed by internal re- castle, and Whatton, vexed by the flection. A brace of tired dogs paced circumstance, felt strongly inclined sluggishly at his horse's heels, the one to leave her to her fate. But affeca stag-hound, the other an old blood- tion for an old favourite made him hound; their coats were soiled, their hesitate ; there was also another tails down, their heavy eyes were strong incitement towards his pursubent constantly upon the ground, ing her,--the propensity of the bloodand, though not endowed with the gift hound for tracking the human foot; of speech, their motions seemed to and Whatton, though the towers of indicate that they partook largely in Witwicke were so closely at hand, the chagrin of their master. When had a heart too much alive to humaWhatton paused, which at length he nity, to risk the mischief so dangerdid, on the summit of a small knoll, it ous a propensity might occasion.was to fix his eyes on the mansion of After a few seconds given to conhis enemy. The proud walls of Wit- sideration, therefore, he turned short wicke were indeed before him, they by the way the animal had taken, towered over the trees with which not however without some internal they were surrounded, and seemed feelings of the unpleasant encounter to frown defiance upon the Prior. which must necessarily take place, The pace of Whatton unconsciously should the lordly owner of the doquickened; he spurred the beast that main present bimself before him. bore him, and the towers of Wit- But he was not doomed to meet wicke were soon lost in the distance. with him. On reaching the summit of It was not, however, the disposition a slight eminence that overlooked a of the Prior to urge either man or romantic dell, he found Chantress inbeast to extremity ; his horse had deed engaged, but with a youth of undergone much fatigue that morn- so slender an appearance, that the ing; he had rode hard; and, being Prior trembled as he beheld them. pretty certain that he could not now In truth it was a boy, a fair boy, be in much danger of encountering of such few years, that it seemed as any one, whose presence might be if one onset alone of the enraged unpleasant to him, he once more gave animal were sufficient to destroy him: a slackened rein. As he patted the but he parried her attack so adroitly, neck of the high spirited animal, and twisting round and round, as the dog smoothed his sleek mane with the bore furiously towards him ; at the butt end of his whip, his attention same time, defending himself with so was arrested by one of his quadruped much skill, and attacking Chantress companions, whose eyes at that mo- in his turn with a cross-bow he held in his hand with such violence, as to sideration of who and what was the send her several paces from him rank of the person who addressed howling with pain. But Chantress him, the youth replied: was no coward ;-as she was usually “May I ask, Sir Friar, who it is, foremost in the chace, so was she in that so authoritatively woos me from fight. She returned to the attack the chastisement of an enemy?" again and again, with redoubled “ One who leans to the side of energy; and was as often as success- mercy, good boy." fully repelled by the dexterous boy. « Indeed?” said the lad tartly, It was after a severe struggle, in “it were an act of mercy truly, to which Chantress had been thrown to spare the life of one who would take a considerable distance, that her fate yours in return! I hold it no sin to 'must have been inevitably decided, kill your blood-hound, Sir Monk, had not the Prior at that instant ar- since doubtless she left your side for rived and saved her.

the purpose of attack. We have “ Hold, hold, brave youth, harm shown her better sport however." not the dog ; spare her, I beseech “Your prowess I admire, it is be'you.” Down, Chantress, down. yond your years. Yet it is my duty Back, good lass, back with you.” to tell you,” said Whatton, « that

The youngster had found time to true generosity may show itself better aim a bolt which would the next in- by sparing a fallen foe.” stant have been fixed in her heart, “Cry you mercy, Sir, yonder creahad not the voice of Whatton arrest- ture exhibits no sign of foilment; ed his intention. Accustomed to the an you were not here, she would as word of command, the animal slunk soon take me as a buck.” behind her master; and, having re- “Well, well, you have shown your duced her to obedience by the usual ability, and it promises fair in riper harsh tones of authority, the Prior years. turned his regards on her antagonist. “ A small matter, a small matter,

The boy was standing in a low good priest; but you are right, we dingle or bottom, beside à thicket of hope to live to do better things: evergreens. His cap was off, and a These words were accompanied by profusion of light brown hair that fell so strong a tone of superiority, joined around a forehead of the most daz- with so contemptuous a toss of the zling whiteness, and flowed in natu- head, and a countenance so indicative ral ringlets to his shoulders, formed of scorn, that Whatton felt very so strong a contrast to the dark much disposed to anger. But the shades of the holly which grew be- haughty smile and curl of the upper hind him, that Whatton thought he lip were so mollified by the otherhad scarcely ever beheld so beautiful wise natural beauty of the face, that a figure. Indeed, the whole appear- the anger of the Prior yielded to the ance of this youth exhibited a whim- contemplation of so rare a piece of sical and incongruous medley. The Nature's workmanship. He seemed rich colour and fantastic style of his fascinated, and stood in fixed attendress, so different from any thing tion, silently viewing him. The boy worn by lads of his age, excepting took no notice of this astonishment, those attached to the court, joined to although it escaped not bis observahis native grace, forcibly impressed tion, but continued, the Prior. The cross-bow he held in “I am a stranger among these his hand, though its bolt had been wilds, and know not exactly which thus hastily arrested from its pur- way to wend my steps, I seek a conpose, was still grasped in an attitude tentious Prior, who they tell me of defiance, and as he returned the dwells hereabouts; a man, I hear, gaze of Whatton, it was with so who loves the chace so well, that he saucy and independent an air, that grudges every one else a partition of the latter could scarcely suppress a it

. Perhaps you could guide me to smile as he observed it.

him?” The retreat of the dog, however, “ And what, if I could ?" demandhad the desired effect, the extended ed Whatton, but little pleased to hear arm gradually sunk to its natural himself so spoken of. position, and, after a short interval, “I have a vow against him," said given as it should seem to the con- the lad: “ I have sworn to despoil

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