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dows in this Chapel, especially of those near the altar, is found rather to resemble the style of architecture that prevailed about the reign of K. Edward III. And indeed that the sculpture in this Chapel cannot be much older, appears
from the Crest which is placed at the Lady's feet on the Tomb; for Camden + inform us, that armorial Crests did not become hereditary till a bout the reign of K. Edward II.
These appearances still extant, strongly confirm the account given in the following poem, and plainly prove that the HERMIT of Warkworth was not the same person that founded Brinkburn Priory in the twelfth century, but rather one of the Bertram family who lived at a later period.
* FIT was the word used by the old Minstrels to fignify a Part or Division of their historical fongs, and was peculiarly appropri. ated to this kind of compofitions. See Re. liques of ancient Eng. Poetry, Vol. II. p. 166 and 397. 2d Ed.
And loud the torrent's roar;
Against the diftant shore.
Musing on man's weak hapless ftate,
The lonely Hermit lay;
Lament in sore dismay.
With hofpitable hafte he rose,
And wak'd his sleeping fire ; And snatching up a lighted brand,
Forth hřed the reverend five.
All fad beneath a neighbouring tree
A beauteous maid he found,
Bedewed the mofly ground.
O weep not, lady, weep not lo;
; My little cell shall shelter thee,
And keep thee safe from harm.
It is not for myself I'weep,
Nor for myself I fear; But for
dear and only friend, Who lately left me here :
And while some sheltering bower he fought
Within this lonely wood,
Have flipt in yonder flood.
O! trust in heaven the Hermit said,
cell repair ; Doubt not but I shall find thy friend,
And case thee of thy care.
Then climbing up his rocky stairs,
He fcalea tle cliff so high ;
To guide the stranger's eye.
Among the the thickets long he winds
With careful steps and Now:
Quick answering from below.
O tell me father, tell me true,
If you have chanc'd to see A gentle maid, I lately left
Beneath some neighbouring tree.
Or she hath gone astray:
Hath snatch'd her hence away.
Praise heaven, my son, the Hermit said ;
The lady's fafe and well : And foon he join'd the wandering youth,
And brought him to his cell.
Then well was seen, these gentle friends
They lov'd each other dear :
Ah ! feldom had their hoft, I
ween, Beheld so sweet a pair : The youth was tall with manly bloom,
She slender, soft, and fair.
The youth was clad in forest green,
With bugle-horn so bright: She is a filken robe and scarf, Snatch'd
up in hafty fight.
Sit down, my children, says the Sage ;
Sweet reft your limbs require : Then heaps fresh fewel on the hearth,
And mends his little fire.
Partake, he said, my fimple store,
Dried fruits, and milk, and curds ; And spreading all upon the board,
Invites with kindly words.
The youthful couple say:
And talk'd their cares away.
Now say, my children, (for perchance
My counsel may avail) What strange adventure brought you here
Within this lonely dále?