Northumberland Yesterday And To Day - Jean F. Terry (i want to read a book TXT) 📗
- Author: Jean F. Terry
Book online «Northumberland Yesterday And To Day - Jean F. Terry (i want to read a book TXT) 📗». Author Jean F. Terry
Appearing Now In The Guise Of A Holy Palmer, Now As A Wandering
Minstrel As He Was Sitting, Despondent And Well-Nigh Despairing,
Beneath A Hawthorn Tree, An Aged Monk Came By, And On Seeing The
Supposed Minstrel's Face Of Sorrow, Said To Him,
"All Minstrels Yet That E'er I Saw
Are Full Of Game And Glee,
But Thou Art Sad And Woe-Begone;
I Marvel Whence It Be."
Bertram Replied That He Served An Aged Lord Whose Only Child Had Been
Stolen Away, And That He Would Know No Happiness Until He Had Found Her.
The Pilgrim Comforted Him And Bade Him Hope, Telling Him That
"Behind Yon Hills So Steep And High,
Down In A Lonely Glen,
There Stands A Castle Fair And Strong,
Far From The Abode Of Men."
Saying That He Had Heard A Lady's Voice Lamenting In This Lonely Tower,
He Passed On, Giving Bertram The Hope That Now At Last His Quest Was
Ended. He Made His Way To That Strong Castle, And With His Music
Prevailed Upon The Porter To Let Him Stay Near At Hand In A Cavern; For
The Porter Refused To Admit Him To The Castle In The Absence Of His
Lord, Though At The Same Time Giving Him Food And Directing Him To The
Cave. He Piped All Day And Watched All Night, And Was Rewarded By
Hearing His Lady's Voice Lamenting Within The Walls Of Her Prison. On
The Second Night He Caught A Glimpse Of Her Beauteous Form, Fair As The
Moonbeams That Shone Around The Tower. On The Third Night, Worn With
Watching, He Slept, And Only Awakened As Dawn Drew Nigh. Grasping His
Weapon, He Stole Near To The Castle Walls, When To His Amazement, He Saw
His Lady Descend From Her Window By A Ladder Of Rope, Held For Her By A
Youth In Highland Dress. Stunned At The Sight, He Could Not Move To
Follow Them, Till They Had Left Behind Them The Castle Where The Lady
Had Been Held Captive, And Were About To Disappear Over The Hill.
Silently And Swiftly Then He Drew Near, And Crying Furiously, "Vile
Traitor! Yield That Lady Up!" Fell Upon The Youth Who Accompanied Her,
Who In His Turn Fought As Furiously As He. In A Few Moments Bertram's
Antagonist Lay Stretched On The Ground; And As He Gave Him The Fatal
Thrust He Cried, "Die, Traitor, Die!" The Lady Recognised His Voice, And
Rushing Forward, Shrieked, "Stay! Stay! It Is Thy Brother." But The
Sword Of Bertram, Already Descending With The Force Of Rage And Fury In
The Blow, Could Not Be Stayed Until Too Late. The Fair Maid's Breast Was
Pierced By The Sword Of The Knight Who Loved Her, And She Sank Down By
The Side Of The Youth Who Had Delivered Her. It Was Indeed Bertram's
Brother, Who Had Succeeded In His Search; And The Dying Maiden Found
Time To Tell Of His Devotion, In Rescuing Her From This Castle Of The
Son Of A Scottish Lord Who Fain Would Have Made Her His Bride, Before
She, Too, Lay Lifeless By The Side Of Her Brave Rescuer, Leaving Her
Lover Too Despairing And Desolate To Seek Safety In Flight, So That The
Band Of Searchers From The Castle, Seeking Their Prisoner On The Hills,
And Dreading Their Lord's Wrath On His Return, Bore Him Back With Them
To The Dungeon. Their Lord, However, Had Meantime Been Taken Captive By
Percy (Hotspur), Who, As Soon As He Heard Of Bertram's Capture, Quickly
Exchanged The Scottish Chief For His Friend. Bertram's Sorrow Lasted For
The Rest Of His Days; He Gave Away His Lands And Possessions To The
Poor, And Retiring To A Lovely Spot On The Banks Of The Coquet, Where
Rocky Cliffs Overhung The River, He Carved Out In The Living Stone A
Little Cell, Dormitory, And Chapel, And Dwelt There, Passing His Days In
Mourning, Meditation, And Prayer. In The Chapel, With Its Gracefully
Arched Roof, He Fashioned On An Altar-Tomb The Image Of A Lady, And At
Her Feet The Figure Of A Hermit, In The Attitude Of Grief, One Hand
Supporting His Head And The Other Pressed Against His Breast, Leaning
Over And Gazing At The Lady For Ever. The Poignant Sentence "My Tears
Have Been My Meat Day And Night," Is Carved Over The Entrance To The
Little Chapel. Here, In This Beautiful Spot, Almost Under The Shadow Of
The Castle Walls Belonging To His Noble Friend, The Sorrowing Knight,
Now A Holy Hermit, Spent The Remainder Of His Life In The Little
Dwelling He Had Wrought In The Living Rock. It Remains To-Day More
Beautiful, If Possible, Than Ever, Overhung By A Canopy Of Waving
Greenery, And Draped With Ferns And Mosses, Their Graceful Fronds Laved
By The Rippling Coquet Whose Gentle Murmurings Fill The Still Air With
Music.
The Next Tale Takes Us To The Neighbourhood Of Belford, And Out Upon The
Old Post Road From London To Edinburgh. In The Unsettled Times Of James
The Second's Reign, One Sir John Cochrane Of Ochiltree Was Condemned To
Death For His Part In The Rising Which Was Led By The Duke Of Argyle.
Powerful Friends, Heavily Bribed By Sir John's Father, The Earl Of
Dundonald, Were Working In Sir John's Favour, And They Had Strong Hopes
Of Obtaining A Pardon. But Meanwhile, Sir John Lay In The Tolbooth At
Edinburgh, And The Warrant For His Execution Was Already On Its Way
Northward, In The Post-Bag Carried Forward By Horseman After Horseman
Throughout The Length Of The Way. Could The Arrival Of The Warrant Only
Be Delayed By Some Means, His Life Might Be Saved. In This Strait, His
Daughter Grizzel, A Girl Of Eighteen, Conceived The Desperate Idea Of
Preventing The Warrant's Reaching Its Destination. Saying Nothing To
Anyone Of Her Intentions, She Stole Away From Home, And Rode Swiftly To
The Border. Following The Road For About Four Miles On The English
Side, She Arrived At The House Of Her Old Nurse; And Here She Changed
Her Clothes, Persuading The Old Dame To Lend Her A Suit Belonging To Her
Foster-Brother. Making Her Way Southward, She Went To The Inn At Belford
Where The Riders Carrying The Mail Usually Put Up For The Night. Here,
The Same Night, Came The Postman, And The Seeming Youth Watched
Nervously, But Determinedly, For An Opportunity Of Finding Out Whether
The Fateful Paper Was In His Bag Or Not. No Slightest Chance Presented
Itself, However, And An Attempt To Obtain The Mail-Bag During The Night
Failed By Reason Of The Fact That The Man Slept Upon It. One Thing She
Did Accomplish, Which Gave Her Hope That The Encounter For Which She Was
Nerving Herself Might End Successfully For Her; She Managed, Unseen, To
Draw The Charges From His Pistols. Then The Courageous Girl Rode Off
Through The Dark Night To Select A Favourable Spot In Which To Await His
Coming. For Two Or Three Lonely Hours She Waited, The Thought That She
Was Fighting For Her Father's Life Giving Her Courage. In The Dim Light
Of The Early Dawn She Heard The Sound Of His Horse's Hoofs From Where
She Stood In The Shadow Of A Clump Of Trees; And Steeling Herself For
The Part She Was To Play, And In Ignorance Of Whether He Might Have
Found Out That The Charges Had Been Withdrawn From His Pistols And Might
Have Re-Loaded Them, She Waited Until He Was Almost Abreast Of Her, And
Fired At His Horse, Bringing It Down. Before He Could Extricate Himself
She Was Upon Him With Drawn Sword; But Promising To Spare His Life If He
Would Let Her Have The Mail-Bag, She Seized It And Darted Away. He
Attempted To Follow To Recover His Charge, But She Reached Her Horse,
And Rode Off Like The Wind. When She Reached A Place Of Safety And
Examined The Contents Of The Bag, What Was Her Joy To Find That The
Warrant Was There. It Was Speedily Destroyed; And During The Time That
Elapsed Before The News Of The Loss Could Be Sent To London And Another
One Made Out, The Friends Of Sir John Succeeded In Obtaining His Pardon.
"Cochrane's Bonny Grizzy" Lived To A Good Old Age; And "Grizzy's Clump"
On The North Road Near The Little Village Of Buckton Keeps Green The
Memory Of Her Daring Exploit.
"Bonny Grizzy" Was A Scottish Maid, Though Her Gallant If Lawless Deed
Was Performed On Northumbrian Soil; But There Is One Northumbrian Maiden
Whose Fame Will Live As Long As The Sea-Waves Beat On The Wild
North-East Coast, And As Long As Men's Hearts Thrill To A Tale Of
Courage And High Resolve. Grace Darling's Name Still Awakens In Every
Bosom A Response To All That Is Compassionate, Courageous, And
Unselfish; And The Thoughts Of All North-Country Folk Bold That
Admiration For The Gentle Girl Which Has Been Voiced As No Other Could
Voice It, In The Magical Words Of Swinburne--
"Take, O Star Of All Our Seas, From Not An Alien Hand,
Homage Paid Of Song Bowed Down Before Thy Glory's Face,
Thou The Living Light Of All Our Lovely Stormy Strand,
Thou The Brave North-Country's Very Glory Of Glories, Grace."
The Story Of Her Gallantry Has Been Many Times Re-Told, But Never Grows
Wearisome. The Memory Of That Stormy Voyage Of The _Forfarshire_, Which
Ended In Disaster On The Harcar Rocks In The Farne Group, Remains In
Men's Minds As The Dark And Tragic Setting Which Throws Into Bright
Relief The Gallant Action Of The Father And Daughter Who Dared Almost
Certain Death To Rescue Their Fellow-Creatures In Peril. It Was In
September, 1838, That The Ill-Fated Vessel Left Hull For Dundee; But A
Leak In The Boilers Caused The Fires To Be Nearly Extinguished In The
Storm The Vessel Encountered. It Reached St. Abb's Head By The Aid Of
The Sails, But Then Drifted Southward, Driven By The Storm, And Struck
In The Early Morning, In A Dense Fog, On The Harcar Rocks. Nine Of The
People On Board Managed To Escape In A Small Boat, Which Was Driven In A
Miraculous Manner Through The Only Safe Outlet Between The Rocks. They
Were Picked Up By A Passing Boat And Taken To Shields. Meanwhile A Heavy
Sea Had Crashed Down Upon The _Forfarshire_, And Broken It In Half, One
Portion, With The Greater Number Of Crew And Passengers, Being Swept
Away Immediately. The Remaining Portion, The Fore Part Of The Vessel,
Was Firmly Fixed Upon The Rock. Here The Shivering Survivors Clung All
That Stormy Day, The Waves Dashing Over Them Continually. The Captain
And His Wife Were Washed Overboard, Clasped In Each Others' Arms; And
Two Little Children, A Boy Of Eight And A Girl Of Eleven Years Of Age,
Died From Exposure And The Relentless Buffeting Of The Waves, Their
Distracted Mother Clasping Them By The Hand Long After Life Was Extinct.
To A Terrible Day Succeeded A Yet More Terrible Night.
"Scarce The Cliffs Of The Islets, Scarce The Walls Of Joyous Gard
Flash To Sight Between The Deadlier Lightnings Of The Sea;
Storm Is Lord And Master Of A Midnight Evil-Starred,
Nor May Sight Nor Fear Discern What Evil Stars May Be."
Until The Morning They Endured; And In The Stormy Dawn The Keeper Of The
Longstone Lighthouse, William Darling, And His Daughter Grace Saw Them
Huddled In A Shivering Heap Upon The Wave-Swept Fragments Of The Wreck.
The Girl Begged Her Father To Try To Save Them, And To Allow Her To Help
In The Task, And After Some Natural Hesitation He Consented. The
Brave-Hearted Mother Helped Them To Launch The Boat, And They Set Forth.
"Sire And Daughter, Hand On Oar And Face Against The Night.
Maid And Man Whose Names Are Beacons Ever To The North.
...... All The Madness Of The Stormy Surf
Hounds And Roars Them Back, But Roars And Hounds Them Back In Vain.
Not Our Mother, Not Northumberland, Brought Ever Forth.
Though No Southern Shore May Match The Sons That Kiss Her Mouth,
Children Worthier All The Birthright Given Of The Ardent North,
Where The Fire Of Hearts Outburns The Suns That Fire The South."
They Reached The Rock, Where Nine Persons Were Still
Clinging To The Wreck, And
"Life By Life The Man Redeems Them, Head By Storm-Worn Head,
While The Girl's Hand Stays The Boat Whereof The Waves Are Fain."
With Five Of The Exhausted Survivors The Boat Returned To The Longstone;
And Two Of The Men Went Back With William Darling For The Other Four.
All Were Safely Housed In The Lighthouse And Tended By The Noble Family
Of The Darlings; But The Storm Raged For Several Days Longer, And Made
It Impossible For Them To Be Put Ashore. When At Length They Returned To
Their Homes, And The Story Of The
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