 | The poems of Mrs. Emma Catherine Embury |  |
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BOSCOBEL.
“By the Earl of Derby's directions, Charles went to Boscobel, a lone house, on the borders of Staffordshire, inhabited by one Penderell, a farmer. To this man Charles intrusted himself. Penderell took the assistance of his four brothers, equally honorable with himself; and having clothed the king in a garb like their own, they led him into a neighboring wood, put a bill into his hand, and pretended to employ themselves in cutting fagots. For a better concealment, he mounted upon an oak, where he sheltered himself among the leaves and branches for twenty-four hours. He saw several soldiers pass by. All of them were intent in search of the king; and some expressed in his hearing, their earnest wishes of seizing him.”
Hume's History of England.
'Twas sunset, and the forest trees
Glowed 'neath the golden sky,
While evening's soft and dew-fraught breeze
Awoke its gentle sigh.
Glowed 'neath the golden sky,
While evening's soft and dew-fraught breeze
Awoke its gentle sigh.
Slowly the toil-worn woodman came;
His glance was high and proud;
Though 'neath the fagots' painful weight
His drooping form was bowed.
His glance was high and proud;
Though 'neath the fagots' painful weight
His drooping form was bowed.
At length in weariness he cast
His burden to the earth;
And never such a look could beam
From one of lowly birth.
His burden to the earth;
And never such a look could beam
From one of lowly birth.
The peasant's summer toil seemed traced
Upon his swarthy cheek;
But not more native pride than his
A kingly eye could speak.
Upon his swarthy cheek;
But not more native pride than his
A kingly eye could speak.
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Aye, majesty upon his brow
Its signet had imprest;
And lofty was the heart that heaved
Beneath the woodman's vest;
Its signet had imprest;
And lofty was the heart that heaved
Beneath the woodman's vest;
For he was one of royal race,
His heritage a throne:
What doth he in the pathless wood,
Thus peasant-clad and lone?
His heritage a throne:
What doth he in the pathless wood,
Thus peasant-clad and lone?
Beside the silver brook he threw
His wearied limbs, and sighed:
“Alas! must this then be the end
Of Stuart's kingly pride?
His wearied limbs, and sighed:
“Alas! must this then be the end
Of Stuart's kingly pride?
“Woe for the glorious hopes that once
My lofty heart could fill!
The hand that grasped the warrior's sword,
Now bears the woodman's bill;
My lofty heart could fill!
The hand that grasped the warrior's sword,
Now bears the woodman's bill;
“The neck that never bent before,
Now bows itself to wear
A burden that, in better days,
My slaves had scorned to bear.
Now bows itself to wear
A burden that, in better days,
My slaves had scorned to bear.
“Better, far better 'twere to die
Beneath the assassin's knife,
Than thus drag on, 'mid toil and care,
A painful load of life.”
Beneath the assassin's knife,
Than thus drag on, 'mid toil and care,
A painful load of life.”
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Hark to the sound of crashing boughs!
A stranger's step is heard!
Again the love of life within
The prince's bosom stirred.
A stranger's step is heard!
Again the love of life within
The prince's bosom stirred.
With lithe and active limb he climbed
An oak's majestic height;
And, sheltered 'mid its clustering leaves,
Looked on a fearful sight.
An oak's majestic height;
And, sheltered 'mid its clustering leaves,
Looked on a fearful sight.
A band of fierce-eyed men were there;
Their swords were stained with blood;
And they bent to lave their burning brows
Within the crystal flood.
Their swords were stained with blood;
And they bent to lave their burning brows
Within the crystal flood.
Then rose the ribald jest, the laugh,
The tale of daily guilt;
And, demon-like, the exulting boast
Of blood their hands had spilt.
The tale of daily guilt;
And, demon-like, the exulting boast
Of blood their hands had spilt.
But still they sought one victim more—
The Prince! the Prince! for him
With frantic haste they hurry through
The forest-shadows dim.
The Prince! the Prince! for him
With frantic haste they hurry through
The forest-shadows dim.
He heard their cries of baffled rage;
He saw their eyes' fierce glare;
He knew that he was hunted like
A wild beast in his lair.
He saw their eyes' fierce glare;
He knew that he was hunted like
A wild beast in his lair.
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Then all death's bitterness was his;
And down his swart cheek rolled
Big drops of agony that well
His soul's dread conflict told.
And down his swart cheek rolled
Big drops of agony that well
His soul's dread conflict told.
[OMITTED]
Night dews upon the green sward shed
Full many a precious gem,
And on the midnight skies was seen
Heaven's glorious diadem.
Full many a precious gem,
And on the midnight skies was seen
Heaven's glorious diadem.
Stillness was on the peaceful earth,
And beauty filled the grove,
While nature seemed too fair for aught
Save gentleness and love.
And beauty filled the grove,
While nature seemed too fair for aught
Save gentleness and love.
A hallowed sound that stillness broke;
For, lowly kneeling there,
To pitying heaven the rescued prince.
Poured his unwonted prayer.
For, lowly kneeling there,
To pitying heaven the rescued prince.
Poured his unwonted prayer.
And O! in after years, when placed
On England's glorious throne,
The wealth and power of regal state
Around him richly shone—
On England's glorious throne,
The wealth and power of regal state
Around him richly shone—
When pleasure o'er his fancy wove
Her bright and powerful spell,
Did not the monarch's proud heart bless
The shades of Boscobel?
Her bright and powerful spell,
Did not the monarch's proud heart bless
The shades of Boscobel?
| The poems of Mrs. Emma Catherine Embury | |