ITH that, straight up the hill there rode
Two horsemen drench'd with gore,
And in their arms, a helpless load,
A wounded knight they bore;
His hand still strain'd the broken brand;
His arms were smear'd with blood and sand:
Dragged from among the horses' feet,
With dinted shield, and helmet beat,
The falcon crest and plumage gone,
Can that be haughty Marmion!
Young Blount his armor did unlace,
And, gazing on his ghastly face,
Said "By Saint George, he's gone!
That spear-wound has our master sped,
And see the deep cut on his head!
Good-night to Marmion.".
O woman! in our hours of ease,
Uncertain, coy, and hard to please,
And variable as the shade
By the light quivering aspen made;
When pain and anguish wring the brow,
A ministering angel thou!-
Scarce were the piteous accents said,
When with the Baron's casque, the maid
To the nigh streamlet ran:
Forgot were hatred, wrongs and fears-
The plaintive voice alone she hears,
Sees but the dying man.
She stooped her by the runnel's side,
But in abhorrence backward drew:
For, oozing from the mountain's side,
Where raged the war, a dark-red tide
Was curdling in the streamlet blue.
Where shall she turn?-behold her mark
A little fountain cell,
Where water, clear as diamond spark,
In a stone basin fell.
Above, some half-worn letters say:
"Drink, weary pilgrim, drink and pray
For the kind soul of Sybil Gray
Who built this cross and well."
She fill'd the helm, and back she hied,
And with surprise and joy espied
A monk supporting Marmion's head--
A pious man, whom duty brought
To dubious verge of battle fought,
To shrive the dying, bless the dead.
With fruitless labor Clara bound,
And strove to stanch the gushing wound:
The monk, with unavailing cares,
Exhausted all the Church's prayers.
The war, that for a space did fail,
Now trebly thundering swell'd the gale
And--STANLEY! was the cry;—
A light on Marmion's visage spread,
And fired his glazing eye:
With dying hand above his head,
He shook the fragment of his blade,
And shouted "Victory!
Charge, Chester, charge! On, Stanley, on!"
Were the last words of Marmion.
T was a time of sadness, and my heart, Although it knew and loved the better part, Felt wearied with the conflict and the strife, And all the needful discipline of life.
And while I thought on these as given to me
My trial tests of faith and love to be
It seemed as if I never could be sure
That faithful to the end I should endure.
And thus, no longer trusting to His might,
Who says, "We walk by faith and not by sight,"
Doubting, and almost yielding to despair,
The thought arose-My cross I cannot bear.
Far heavier its weight must surely be
Than those of others which I daily see.
Oh! if I might another burden choose,
Methinks I should not fear my crown to lose.
A solemn silence reigned on all around-
E'en Nature's voices uttered not a sound;
The evening shadows seemed of peace to tell,
And sleep upon my weary spirit fell.
A moment's pause-and then a heavenly light
Beamed full upon my wondering, raptured sight;
Angels on silvery wings seemed everywhere,
And angels' music thrilled the balmy air.
Then One, more fair than all the rest to see-
One to whom all the others bowed the knee-
Came gently to me as I trembling lay,
And "Follow me!" He said; "I am the Way."
Then, speaking thus, He led me far above,
And there, beneath the canopy of love,
Crosses of divers shape and size were seen,
Larger and smaller than my own had been.
And one there was, most beauteous to behold, A little one with jewels set in gold.
Ah! this, me thought, I can with comfort wear, For it will be an easy one to bear:
And so the little cross I quickly took,
But, all at once, my frame beneath it shook;
The sparkling jewels fair were they to see,
But far too heavy was their weight for me.
"This may not be," I cried, and looked again,
To see if there was any here could ease my pain;
But, one by one, I passed them slowly by,
Till on a lovely one I cast my eye.
Fair flowers around its sculptured form entwined, And grace and beauty seemed in it combined Wondering, I gazed, and still I wondered more To think so many should have passed it o'er.
But oh! that form so beautiful to see
Soon made its hidden sorrows known to me;
Thorns lay beneath those flowers and colors fair;
Sorrowing, I said: "This cross I may not bear."
And so it was with each and all around,
Not one to suit my need could there be found;
Weeping, I laid each heavy burden down,
As my Guide gently said: "No cross, no crown.”
At length, to Him I raised my saddened heart;
He knew its sorrows, bid its doubts depart.
"Be not afraid," He said, "but trust in me-
My perfect love shall now be shown to thee."
And then with lightened eyes and willing feet,
Again I turned, my earthly cross to meet,
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