Tales of Terror With an introductory dialogue [by M. G. Lewis] |
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| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. | No. X. THE GREY FRIAR OF WINTON
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| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| XXI. |
 | Tales of Terror |  |
66
No. X. THE GREY FRIAR OF WINTON ;
OR, THE DEATH OF KING RUFUS.
AN ENGLISH LEGEND.
------ Scelus ille paternum
Morte luat merita.
Ovid.
Morte luat merita.
Ovid.
With horse and hound King Rufus hies
O'er woodland, heath, and dell;
The warden's bugle shrill replies
To Winton's matin bell.
O'er woodland, heath, and dell;
The warden's bugle shrill replies
To Winton's matin bell.
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Full heavy strike the sullen peals
The royal huntsman's ear;
Sudden, I ween, his bosom feels
A momentary fear.
The royal huntsman's ear;
Sudden, I ween, his bosom feels
A momentary fear.
—“Halloo!” he shouts, he spurs his steed
Athwart the misty glade;
“This day the forest deer shall bleed!”
And loud his courser neigh'd.
Athwart the misty glade;
“This day the forest deer shall bleed!”
And loud his courser neigh'd.
It starts, it snorts, its ruffled mane
Wild waving to the wind!
The King looks round, but lo! his train
Are scatter'd far behind.
Wild waving to the wind!
The King looks round, but lo! his train
Are scatter'd far behind.
Oh! who beneath yon blasted oak
Uprears his pallid form?
Why hollow sounds the raven's croak?
Why howls the rising storm?
Uprears his pallid form?
Why hollow sounds the raven's croak?
Why howls the rising storm?
The Monarch shrinks, with threatening scowl,
The monk advances nigh;
Loose his grey weeds, and shadowy cowl,
Hung o'er his frowning eye.
The monk advances nigh;
Loose his grey weeds, and shadowy cowl,
Hung o'er his frowning eye.
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—“And stay!” he cried, “accursed King;
“Amid thy thronging hounds,
“Thou heard'st afar, unheeded, ring,
“The mass-bell's holy sounds.
“Amid thy thronging hounds,
“Thou heard'st afar, unheeded, ring,
“The mass-bell's holy sounds.
“But, hark! the loud, the lengthening toll,
“Hath drown'd the distant chase;
“How chills the peal thy guilty soul,
“Betrays thy altering face.
“Hath drown'd the distant chase;
“How chills the peal thy guilty soul,
“Betrays thy altering face.
“O, sprung from Rollo's vent'rous clan,
“From Albion's lawless lord!
“Too soon the blood of Harold ran
“On William's conquering sword.
“From Albion's lawless lord!
“Too soon the blood of Harold ran
“On William's conquering sword.
“Full sore the fell usurper's chain
“Long gall'd the Saxon line;
“But fall'n—how fall'n his tyrant reign!
“And thus shall perish thine.
“Long gall'd the Saxon line;
“But fall'n—how fall'n his tyrant reign!
“And thus shall perish thine.
“In thee thy dreaded sire revives;
“Still vanquish'd Britons groan;
“Still Liberty indignant strives
“To shake a foreign throne.
“Still vanquish'd Britons groan;
“Still Liberty indignant strives
“To shake a foreign throne.
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“The curse contemn'd Religion hurl'd
“On William's robber host;
“When Normandy's broad flag unfurl'd
“O'ershadow'd Albion's coast;
“On William's robber host;
“When Normandy's broad flag unfurl'd
“O'ershadow'd Albion's coast;
“That curse, whene'er despotic sounds
“The curfew's mournful toll;
“When sad remembrance rankling wounds
“The vassal's fetter'd soul;
“The curfew's mournful toll;
“When sad remembrance rankling wounds
“The vassal's fetter'd soul;
“Say, through thy palace, haughty King,
“Breathes it a secret dread?
“Hath Conscience left one feeble sting
“To warn thee of the dead?
“Breathes it a secret dread?
“Hath Conscience left one feeble sting
“To warn thee of the dead?
“What though we bear Oppression's yoke,
“Meek, unresisting slaves?
“Lo! Insult adds her galling stroke,
“And just Rebellion braves.
“Meek, unresisting slaves?
“Lo! Insult adds her galling stroke,
“And just Rebellion braves.
“Cast thy proud eye o'er Freedom's isle,
“Alas, no longer free!
“The forests nod, the valleys smile,
“But blighted, wretch, by thee!
“Alas, no longer free!
“The forests nod, the valleys smile,
“But blighted, wretch, by thee!
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“War's red'ning arm, war's stern array,
“Hath bathed each vale in blood,
“Where once, in Harold's happier sway,
“The peaceful cottage stood:
“Hath bathed each vale in blood,
“Where once, in Harold's happier sway,
“The peaceful cottage stood:
“Where Labour, with contented eye,
“Saw heaven-born blessings spring,
“And paid the price of liberty
“In tribute to its king.
“Saw heaven-born blessings spring,
“And paid the price of liberty
“In tribute to its king.
“Lo! as some rock's sulphureous fire
“Bursts o'er the ravaged plain,
“Destruction marks thy ruthless sire,
“O'er heaps of Saxons slain,
“Bursts o'er the ravaged plain,
“Destruction marks thy ruthless sire,
“O'er heaps of Saxons slain,
“With rapid stride ascend the throne,
“Nor sheath the murderous sword,
“Nor heed expiring Freedom's groan,
“Faint curse her foreign lord!
“Nor sheath the murderous sword,
“Nor heed expiring Freedom's groan,
“Faint curse her foreign lord!
“The despot still, though transient peace
“Hath hush'd the clarion's sound;
“The tyrant's passions never cease,
“And e'en his pleasures wound.
“Hath hush'd the clarion's sound;
“The tyrant's passions never cease,
“And e'en his pleasures wound.
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“The chase invites! the cultur'd fields
“Obstruct a monarch's joys;
“Born to submit, the peasant yields,
“And power his hopes destroys.
“Obstruct a monarch's joys;
“Born to submit, the peasant yields,
“And power his hopes destroys.
“Oh! mark the harvest's fallen pride,
“Thick strew the uprooted soil!
“Mark the king's Norman train deride
“The Briton's fruitless toil.
“Thick strew the uprooted soil!
“Mark the king's Norman train deride
“The Briton's fruitless toil.
“See, in this dark unpeopled waste,
“His soul's congenial gloom;
“Here William, with uncautious haste,
“Seal'd many a prince's doom .
“His soul's congenial gloom;
“Here William, with uncautious haste,
“Seal'd many a prince's doom .
“Yon holy pile, yon ruin'd shrine
,
“Thy impious sire recall;
“And vengeance on his fated line,
“On thee, dread King, shall fall!
“Thy impious sire recall;
“And vengeance on his fated line,
“On thee, dread King, shall fall!
72
“Full tough shall twang the Norman bow,
“Full sure the arrow-speed;
“By hand unseen, this day laid low,
“The chiefest hart shall bleed!”—
“Full sure the arrow-speed;
“By hand unseen, this day laid low,
“The chiefest hart shall bleed!”—
—“Oh, stay, thou holy friar, oh, stay!”—
The Monarch frantic cries;
But swifter than the lightning's ray,
He vanish'd from his eyes.
The Monarch frantic cries;
But swifter than the lightning's ray,
He vanish'd from his eyes.
Wild, through the thicket's gloom, the steed
Untouch'd, unbidden, tore;
When lo! a stag, with trembling speed,
Rush'd straight their path before.
Untouch'd, unbidden, tore;
When lo! a stag, with trembling speed,
Rush'd straight their path before.
Sudden an archer, swift and strong,
Twang'd tough his Norman yew;
His barbed arrow, straight and long
Up to the head he drew.
Twang'd tough his Norman yew;
His barbed arrow, straight and long
Up to the head he drew.
Against the stag, with heedless hand,
Erring, the shaft he set;
And saw the quivering feather stand
In the King's heart-blood wet!
Erring, the shaft he set;
And saw the quivering feather stand
In the King's heart-blood wet!
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Full sore across his saddle bow'd
The royal huntsman's head;
The ruddy current trickling flow'd,
He groan'd, and sunk down dead.
The royal huntsman's head;
The ruddy current trickling flow'd,
He groan'd, and sunk down dead.
It is related by William of Malmesbury, that on the day when King Rufus hunted for the last time in the New Forest, a monk appeared to him when separated from his companions, and warned him of the curse which hung over his family on account of his father's tyranny in laying waste so large a tract of country for the purposes of his amusement.
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