ATHELGIVA.

"THERE remains a tradition," observes Mr. Watkins, the writer of the following legendary tale, "that the Abbey of Whitby, on the North coast of Yorkshire, was despoiled during the depredations of the Danes, under the command of Ingua and Hubba, who brought with them the standard on which was embroidered a golden Raven (the work of their sisters), and which was preserved as the Palladium of their security. Edelsteda, who is mentioned in the first stanza, is represented to have been the daughter of Oswin, King of Northumberland, and resided in the Abbey of Whitby. This sanctuary was founded by St. Hilda, sister of King Edwin, who died in 680."-BEDE, and SAX. CHRON.

"HERE may'st thou rest, my sister dear!
Securely here abide :

Where royal Edelsteda lived,

Where pious Hilda died.

"Here peace and quiet ever dwell!

Here dread no dire alarms:

Nor here is heard the trumpet's sound,
Nor here the din of arms!"—

With voice composed and look serene,
Whilst soft her hand he pressed,
The maid, who trembled on his arm,
Young Edwy thus addressed.

Blue gleamed the steel in Edwy's hand,

The warrior's vest he bore;

For now the Danes, by Hubba led,
Had ravaged half the shore.

His summons, at the abbey-gate,
The ready porter hears:
And soon, in veil and holy garb,
The abbess kind appears.

"O, take this virgin to thy care;
Good angels be your guard!
And may the saints in Heaven above,
The pious care reward!—

"Know then, by fierce barbarian bands,

We, driven from our home,

Through three long days and nights forlorn, The dreary waste did roam.

"But, I go these towers to save!
Beneath the evening shade,

I haste to seek Earl Osrick's power,
And call Lord Redwald's aid."

He said—and turned his ready foot :
The abbess nought replies;
But with a look that spoke her grief,
To heaven upcast her eyes.

Now, turning to the stranger dame,
"O, welcome to this place!

For never Whitby's holy fane
Did fairer maiden grace."

And true she said-for, on her cheek
Was seen young beauty's bloom;

Though grief, with slow and wasting stealth,
Did then her prime consume.

Her shape was all that thought can form Of elegance and grace,

While heaven the beauties of her mind

Reflected in her face.

"My daughter, lay aside thy fears!" Again the abbess cried:

"The Danish spoiler comes not here!"
Again the virgin sighed.

The abbess saw,-the abbess knew,
'T was love that shook her breast;
And thus, in accent soft and mild,
The mournful fair addrest.

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My daughter dear! as to thy friend,
Be all thy cares confest:

I see 't is love disturbs thy mind,
And wish to give thee rest.

"Yet hark!—I hear the vesper-bell!
It summons us to prayer;
Which duty done, with needful food
Thy wasted strength repair."

But now the sympathising Muse,
Of Edwy's hap shall tell;
And what, amidst his nightly walk,

That gallant youth befell.—

Fast journeying by the bank of Esk,

He took his lonely way;

And now through showers of driving rain,

His erring footsteps stray.

At length from far, a glimmering light,

Trembling among the trees,

And entering soon a moss-built hut,

A holy man he sees.—

"O father! deign a luckless youth
This night with thee to shield;
I am no robber, though my arm
This deadly weapon wield."

"I fear no robber, stranger! here,
For I have nought to lose;
And thou may'st safely during night
In this poor cell repose:

“And thou art welcome to my hut,"

The holy man he cried ;

"Still welcome here, is he whom fate

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Has left without a guide.

Whence, and what art thou, gentle youth?"The noble Edwy said,

I go to rouse Earl Osrick's power,

"Ig

And seek Lord Redwald's aid.

"My father is a wealthy Lord,

Who now with Alfred stays;

And me he left to guard his seat,

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Whilst he his duty pays.

But, vain the trust!—in dead of night

The devastator came;

And o'er each neighbouring castle threw
War's all-destructive flame.

“To shun its rage, at early dawn
I with my sister fled;

And Whitby Abbey now affords
A shelter to her head:

"Whilst I, to hasten promised aids,

Range wildly through the night, And with impatient heart expect The morning's friendly light."

So Edwy spake; and wondering, gazed
Upon his hermit host:

For in his form beam'd manly grace,
Unchilled by age's frost!

The hermit sighing, thus he said,
"Know-there was once a day,
This tale of thine would fire my heart,
And bid me join thy way.

"But luckless love dejects my soul,
And casts my spirits down;

Thou see'st the wretch of woman's pride, Of follies not my own!

" I

once, amid my Sovereign's train,
Ranked a distinguished youth;

But blighted is my former fame,
By sorrow's cankering tooth.

"When Ethelred the crown did hold,

I to this district came,

And then a fair and matchless maid

First woke in me a flame.

"Her father was a noble Lord,

Of an illustrious race,
Who joined to rustic honesty

The court's transcendent grace.

"'Twas then I told my artless tale,

By love alone inspired;
For never was my manly speech

In flattering guise attired.

"At first she heard, or seemed to hear,

The tender voice of love;

But soon-the ficklest of her sex,

Did she deceitful prove!