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The Legend of St. Loy

With Other Poems. By John Abraham Heraud
  
  

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II.

Between each blast the plaints preferred,
Of Edwy young, but sad, were heard
By Almar, of the tresses grey:—

13

The Hermit, old and sage,
Beheld him, by his taper's ray,
Before the Hermitage.

“The third remarkable thing of this second ternary is the Hermitag, distant Southward from the Crosse about x score, or short of a stone bridge in the bottome vii or viii score: it was, within memory of some yet liuing, a little square building, for the most part of bricke; it is now a pretty dwelling for a small family.” Wilhelm Bedwell's “Brief Description of the Town of Tottenham High Crosse, in Middlesex; together with an Historical Narration of such memorable Things as are there to be seen and observed, 1631”


No other light was thereabout,—
All else was gloom,—within, without—
And that was tremulous and dim,
Like a wan star's reflected gleam
Obliquely glancing in the stream,
As, rippling e'er along,
It gently glides, and softly swells,
To lave the Naiad's coral cells.
But, by that quivering dubious flame,
He watched that younger Hermit's frame,
As started he in frantic trance,
And shot a wild and fearful glance,
Rejoicing in the tempest's yell;
And marked his kindled spirit swell,
Extatical and strong—
Gently the Youth's raised hand he took,
And pierced him with a pitying look,
Tempered with age's gravity,
And waked him from his vision high.

14

Confused, he drooped his head awhile,
But raised it soon again,
Saw Almar's fond and pensive smile,
Felt his paternal strain.