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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.

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* 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.

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DAR
ARK was the night, and wild the form.

And loud the torrent's roar;
And loud the sea was heard to dash

Against the diftant shore.

Musing on man's weak hapless ftate,

The lonely Hermit lay;
When, lo! he heard a female voice,

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,
Who beat her breast, and with her tears.

Bedewed the mofly ground.

O weep not, lady, weep not lo;
Nor let vain fears alarm

; 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

my

dear and only friend, Who lately left me here :

And while some sheltering bower he fought

Within this lonely wood,
Ah ! fore I fear his wandering feet

Have flipt in yonder flood.

O! trust in heaven the Hermit said,
And to

my

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 ;
And calls aloud, and waves his light,

To guide the stranger's eye.

Among the the thickets long he winds

With careful steps and Now:
At length a voice return'd his call,

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.
But either I have lost the place,

Or she hath gone astray:
And much I fear this fatal stream

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 :
The youth he press’d her to his heart;
The maid let fall a tear.

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.
Thanks, father, for thy bounteous fare ;

The youthful couple say:
Then freely atc, and made good chear,

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?

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