A HERMIT's TALE. Sophia Lee Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
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Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
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Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. N17625 K010810.000 Lee, Sophia, 1750-1824. A hermit's tale: recorded by his own hand, and found in his cell. London printed for T. Cadell, in the Strand. M.DCC.LXXXVII. 1787 pp. [1]-[]. [6],40p.; 4⁰.

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A HERMIT's TALE . I. FROM prime of youth to hoary age In this lone cell I've dwelt ; Here sought , by tracing Nature's page , To soothe the pangs I felt . II . The moss-wove oaks that near my cave In sullen grandeur stand , And o'er its broken summit wave , Were acorns in my hand . III . Those time-shook tow'rs , which all forsake , Erect , and gay , I've seen ; And half of yon translucent lake , A flow'r-enamell'd green . IV . When shall my penitence and pray'rs Obtain the boon I crave ? When shall my thorny bed of cares Become my peaceful grave ? V. Oh worshipp'd reliques ! holy book ! Detain my mental eye ; Nor let it ever backward look To trace sad memory . VI . Or thou ! memorial cross of God , My whole attention seize ! And bow my heart upon the sod , Worn daily by my knees . VII . Alas ! not Piety can heal The soul convuls'd with guilt ; Nor all her fountains cleanse the steel Which human blood has spilt . VIII . Ah ! let me ease it then , and speak The long , long treasur'd tale ; What bitter griefs first bade me seek The silence of this vale . IX . Near Cheviot Hills I drew the air On Aran's pleasant plain ; My mother was of presence fair , Her sire an aged swain . X. To tend the flocks was my employ , Nor ever heav'd my breast , When my fond mother blest her boy , At rising , and at rest . XI . Yet oft with tears and smiles she strove , And as I bent my knee , She'd cry , " be juster to thy love , Than mine has been to me . " XII . Yet little note of this I took , Unskill'd in worldly harms , And more admir'd my flow'r-bound crook , Than her unequall'd charms . XIII . The lowly cot , and shepherd's life , Each night , each morn , she prais'd ; And when they spoke of warlike strife , With terror on me gaz'd . XIV . For now the wars of Palestine Brave Coeur de Lion fought ; While all admir'd the zeal divine , And with his deeds were fraught . XV. The glorious talk to me was good ; And as it fill'd my ear , I seem'd to cleave the founding flood , Or grasp a fancied spear . XVI . When , lo ! the neighbouring Scots , a band Rough as their native rocks , Rush'd like a whirlwind o'er the land , And swept away our flocks . XVII . By many an art my mother try'd My vengeance to restrain ; But anger argument defy'd , And ev'n her tears were vain . XVIII . Each swain I bade renounce his crook ; Each swain obey'd my voice ; The ravagers we soon o'ertook , And left them not a choice . XIX . No parle did either party use , Impell'd by fierce disdain ; One sought as men who'd all to lose , The other to regain . XX . Day faintly purpled o'er the sky When the fell fight began ; But ere our stubborn foes would fly , The Sun his course had ran . XXI . Thus we retriev'd our fleecy store , So late bewail'd as lost , And seem'd , I ween , to love them more , For all the blows they cost . XXII . Not Richard's self his warriors led More proudly o'er the deep , Than I for Aran's pastures sped , Surrounded by my sheep . XXIII . As nigh I drew , the clouds did roll A crimson o'er the night ; The valley flam'd — and my full soul Died in me at the fight . XXIV . Another band of those who roam Our hamlet had destroy'd : And while we fought to guard our home , Had made that home a void . XXV . A while I wept , and duteous sought My parents dear remains ; At length my heart , with vengeance fraught , An useless grief disdains . XXVI . I rouz'd the swains who yet deplor'd Each desolated field ; I turn'd my sheep-hook to a sword , My scrip into a shield . XXVII . The savage Scots I swore t'annoy With ever-loud alarms , And from a simple shepherd-boy , Became renown'd in arms . XXVIII . Between both lands strong tow'rs I rear With captive ensigns bright : One nation gaz'd on them with fear ; The other with delight . XXIX . Around I station'd many a band , Who dubious stragglers sought ; And ah ! one day , by love's command , A matchless beauty brought . XXX . Her mien majestic seem'd to speak Th' unsullied soul within ; No rose like that on her pure cheek Blooms o'er the face of sin . XXXI . Oh ! not in grace the mountain pine With her slight form could vye , The blue that paints the arch divine Was faint to her bright eye . XXXII . Like a rich group of yellow sheaves , In ringlets wild , her hair Play'd on her breast — so Autumn leaves Hang on the lily fair . XXXIII . Awe-struck , my soul imbib'd a flame As virtuous as sincere ; Nor dared I boldly ask the name , I most desir'd to hear . XXXIV . Unconscious of her beauty's blaze , She drew away the shade ; With dignity endur'd my gaze , And thus to speak essay'd . XXXV. " Although by force I hither bend " The captive of thy sword , " From brutal hands I seek a friend , " Nor need I own a Lord . XXXVI. " Of English blood thy servant came , " Not from a hostile line , " Lord Ethel is my Father's name , " And Ethelinda mine . XXXVII . " To Scotland with my Mother sent , " A Grandsire's eyes to close , " Her sum of days like his are spent , " With him she finds repose . XXXVIII . " Ev'n now on silver Severn's side " My Father anxiously " Forgets the day my Mother dy'd , " To look in vain for me . XXXIX . " By Knighthood's holy laws , oh Youth ! " I therefore claim your gage , " That you yield him with care , and truth , " The darling of his age . XL. " So may the peace to him you give " With large increase return ; " So crown'd with conquest may you live , " And glory crown your urn ! " XLI. " Be safe , " I cried , " thou lovely Maid ; " By warlike Richard's throne , " Ne'er shall she vainly ask my aid , " Whom truth and honor own . XLII. " By Knighthood's holy laws I swear , " And give th' unquestion'd gage , " To yield thy Sire , with truth , and care , " The darling of his age . XLIII . " To horse , to horse , each vassal knight , " Prepare your burnish'd arms ; " Diffuse around a dazzling light , " To hide , and guard , these charms . XLIV. " A Nymph beyond ev'n Helen fair , " Bestows a nobler trust ; " A Youth her beauty well might snare , " Is Man , in love — yet just . " XLV. And soon my warriors o'er the waste In gay profusion roll ; The Lady in the centre plac'd , Irradiated the whole . XLVI. Still as we journied on , I sought , With love's unconscious art , T' impress myself on ev'ry thought , 'Till I had won her heart . XLVII. And now my fears would often hint Her Sire might prove unkind , And wiser 'twere our trust to stint , But duteous was her mind . XLVIII . " Ah doubt not , Edmund , " — she would say , " Thy worth must all engage ; " Nor dare I scorn a father's sway , " Nor dare I grieve his age . XLIX. " His silver'd head , as lilies bow , " Declining now appears ; " Alike his frame doth tremble now , " With tenderness and years . L. " And sure a fearful joy she knows " Who unpermitted loves ; " While doubly hallow'd are the vows " A parent's voice approves . " LI . " More fondly draws the heart's dear chain , " When watching his decay ; " Oh ! the sad charm , to know his pain " In blessings melts away ! " LII. Fill'd with her love , sooth'd with her hope , The present hour I blest ; And gave luxuriant fancy scope , Who more enrich'd the rest . LIII. When now we reach'd fair Severn's side , Where 'mid her fairest bow'rs , A mountain swell'd with verdant pride , Crown'd with Lord Ethel's tow'rs . LIV. As to the height we gaily wound , From apprehension free , Surpriz'd we heard the drum's fierce sound , Proclaim an enemy . LV. Like shining swarms of bees , in arms The Knights now multiply ; And pleasure's notes , and war's alarms , Our mingling trumpets cry . LVI. When proud I did the Lady shew , — Who bade all discord cease ; More radiant than the vernal bow , Heav'ns own bright pledge of peace , LVII. Her name , in various accents cried , Was borne away within , While the vast portals opening wide , Increas'd the joyful din . LVIII. Forth rush'd , tumultuous as the wind , Knights who no longer frown'd ; But marching with their spears declin'd , A mute obedience own'd . LIX. At once , dividing to each side , Like waves the train retire ; And as the swan floats with the tide , Slow came the rev'rend Sire . LX. The gift of health , an aged bloom , His manly cheek confest ; And white his locks , as erst the plume , That quiver'd o'er his crest . LXI. The Maid oppress'd with tender pain , And , than the hart more fleet , Now graceful shot along the plain , And panted at his feet . LXII. Have you not seen the fragile rose , Droop with the gems of morn ? So fair the kneeling Virgin shews , A Parent's tears adorn . LXIII . Have you not seen the purple vine With Autumn hoar embost ? Youth with such loveliness divine , Glows wrapt in age's frost . LXIV . " Oh most belov'd ! " her father cried , And fast his tears would fall , " My youth's delight , my age's pride , " My little earthly all ! LXV. " Thy safe return in peace , and health , " Doth all my griefs assuage : " Thy safe return doth spare my wealth , " And ah ! doth spare my age . " LXVI . He said , and turning to a Knight , Upon whose brow serene , Sat grace attemper'd with delight , While valor mark'd his mien . LXVII. " See , Baron , " added he , " thy Bride ; " My child , behold the Son , " Allotted for thy Lord , and guide , " When thy fond father's gone . LXVIII. " Ah venerate that hallow'd shield , " Upon whose orb the cross , " Declares , in many a well-fought field , " The Saracens vast loss . LXIX. " With grateful love accept the hand , " But for whose aid , forlorn , " And fatherless , thou now mightst stand , " Nor I hail thy return . " LXX . My soul , as with an ague shook , At once both froze and burn'd ; When she , not deigning him a look , All tearful to me turn'd . LXXI. " Behold , " she faltering said , " the sword " Which set thy daughter free ; " Approve a heart where I'm ador'd — " Where I alone would be . — LXXII . " Could I from duty have been won , " His honor to reward , " I should have call'd this Knight thy son , " And claim'd a like regard . LXXIII. " Oh ! think , tho' fortune freed his will , " With reverence he woo'd ; " Oh ! rise above the thought of ill — " Remember gratitude . — LXXIV. " That claim I never will disown ; " Your pow'r may bid me weep — " But tears , like falling drops on stone , " The heart's-wound wear more deep . " — LXXV. The Baron's eyes blaz'd thro' the snow Of age , with Hecla's fire ; And red his haughty blushes glow , While thus he speaks his ire . LXXVI. " And who then art thou , nameless Youth ? From whence deriv'd that flood , " Which dyes thy cheek with nature's truth , " And vies with Ethel's blood ? LXXVII. " Where are the honors of thy line ? " Unblazon'd on thy arms ; " Which thou presum'st to blend with mine , " Vain of ignoble charms . — LXXVIII . " Knowst thou , the spoils of many a Knight " Descend to me alone ? " Knowst thou the lands within thy sight , " This Maid will one day own ? LXXIX . " Learn , Youth , to ask some fit reward , " Which with thy rank agrees ; " And fame , and wealth , and high regard , " Thy anger shall appease . " LXXX . " Hold , Lord , " I cried , " nor meanly boast , " Degraded ancestry ; " Thy honors in thyself are lost , " While mine begin in me . LXXXI. " But let us prove this vaunted blood , " This elevated line ; " And see if Edmund's humble flood , " Nerve not his arm like thine . LXXXII . " For while firm youth shall brace his hand , " And love his ardent heart , " The matchless Maid he will demand , " Who forms its dearest part . LXXXIII . " Come then , ye knights , your well-tried arms " In deadly wrath produce , " While ours , unwrought for such alarms , " Gain strength alone from use . " LXXXIV . Alost I wav'd my sword of pow'r , The spiral lustre run , And like the Guard of Eden's bow'r , Flam'd to the noon-day sun . LXXXV. While thus we met , with equal ire , Before my sorrowing eyes , The proud inexorable Sire Bore off the beauteous prize . LXXXVI . Oh ! if ye ever knew to melt In passion's tender glow , I need not paint the pangs I felt , At this extreme of woe . LXXXVII . Oh ! if ye ever yet have rag'd , Oppress'd by savage pow'r , Ye well will guess the war we wag'd , The fierceness of that hour . LXXXVIII . The sun unheeded veil'd his head , While many a casque was riv'n ; And that last darkness seem'd to spread , Which mingles earth with heav'n . LXXXIX . Yet still in mortal conflict join'd , No respite we allow , 'Till oft , by heaven's wild fires , we find A friend slain for a foe . XC. Humanity at length o'er pride Prevail'd , and sooth'd this heat ; We deem'd , 'till day-light should decide , 'Twere valour to retreat . XCI. But on the morn , at Ethel's word , Lord-marcher of the land , Indignant thousands on us pour'd , Nor could we more withstand . XCII. My Knights , despoil'd of armor , peace Accepted as a boon ; My sword alone they dar'd not seize ; How useless when alone ! XCIII. What then was all my early fame ! The wealth by valor giv'n ! What then , alas ! even virtue's flame ! Th' united gifts of heav'n ! XCIV . Lost to my heart its only joy , Extinct at once its flights ; Sad images my days employ , And sadder still my nights . XCV . The bridal feast approach'd , the vests To many a fair were shewn , Full was the Baron's hall of guests , Myself forbid alone . XCVI. All hope now lost , I wild arose , And soon within the bound , Where piety adores the cross , My feet unconscious found . XCVII. Impell'd by destiny , I past When struck the vesper bell , — A dreary eye around I cast , And own'd it as my knell . XCVIII. When lo ! approaching fast , the tread Of warlike steps I heard , I turn'd , and as by justice led , My Rival there appear'd . XCIX. With wonder , blessing ev'ry shrine , I drew the well-worn blade , " One moment yet , " I cried , " is mine — " Deserve , or lose the Maid . " C. Impetuous love each sinew strung , As we by turns assail'd ; And long the vict'ry doubtful hung , But oh ! my fate prevail'd . CI . At length , between th' ill-jointed mail , My sword a passage found , Fast rush'd the stream of life , and pale He dropt upon the ground . CII. While sighs of rage from his proud breast Impell'd the vital flood , A thousand pangs his eye confest , Beyond the waste of blood . CIII. " Ignoble Lord , " I cried , " she's mine , " On holy land you lie — " Call to your aid the pow'r divine , " Repent , before you die . " CIV. " Ah , say'st thou ? " groan'd he , " holy land ! " 'Twas there my sins began ; " For thither , heedless of command , " In early youth I ran . " CV . " Broke too the unacknowledg'd tye " An humble love had made ; " And left the charm of ev'ry eye " In infamy to fade . CVI. " Alas ! perhaps on Aran's plain " She yet exists forlorn ! " With Albert's heir , a fancied swain , " From lineal honors torn . CVII. " To Basil's daughter , my true bride , " This ring restore again . — " To Basil's daughter ! " I replied , " What , Emma of the plain ? " CVIII. He groan'd assent — thro' all my frame Did cold convulsions run — " You see , " I falter'd , " void of name , " That miserable son — CIX. " The murder'd Emma's only joy " — He bent to earth his head : " Oh do not more than kill me , boy ! " All-agoniz'd he said . CX. " Yet while I've strength the truth to groan , " To yonder convent run , " Bid here the Monks , that I may own " In you , my heir , my son . " CXI. Already did th' unwonted sound The vesper rites restrain ; And forth the holy Fathers wound , A venerable train . CXII. With consecrated lights they star The bosom of the earth , And list with hallow'd zeal afar , The blessing of our birth . CXIII. Before the cross the dying Lord , With penitential awe , In silence first his God ador'd , And mourn'd his broken law : CXIV. Then raising to the Monks his eyes , Where life's last lustre play'd , " Suspend these sacred rites , " he cries , 'Till I deserve your aid . — CXV. " If struggling thus with shame and death , " I dare avow a truth , " Confirm'd by my expiring breath , " Oh vindicate this Youth ! CXVI. " Inform my Liege , that led by pride , " Yet by fond passion won , " In early youth I chose a bride , " I ever scorn'd to own . CXVII. " With impious zeal , the band I join'd " He led to Palestine , " And with false glory fir'd my mind , " T' elude the wrath divine . CXVIII. " With him I ev'ry danger dar'd , " Which mark'd the proud crusade ; " With him a prison's gloom I shar'd , " Nor selt my soul upbraid . — CXIX. " While in our Northern wilds was born " This Youth , whose energy " Has from its seat that being torn , " Which gave him first to be — CXX. " Since justly then , in flow'r of health , " I expiate thus my pride , " Oh may he give my heir my wealth , " My name — alas , my Bride ! CXXI. " Unhappy Boy ! if for thy fire " These streaming sorrows flow , " To save his soul from endless fire , " Perennial pray'rs bestow . " CXXII. He died — nor had I time to think On all I'd lost , or won , — I hover'd on creation's brink , And clung to love alone . CXXIII. The busy Monks remov'd the corse , The arms alone remain'd ; When fraud effected , what nor force , Nor supplication gain'd . CXXIV. Incumber'd with Lord Albert's mail , A desperate hope I try'd , And soon the hostile mountain scale , Where now the gates flew wide . CXXV. The high-arch'd halls I safely past , Thro' lucid heraldry , Where echo to the midnight blast Sigh'd wild , and loud as me . CXXVI. 'Till the lone gallery now appear'd Enrich'd with pond'rous mail , Where many a banner , time-endear'd , Slow rustled to the gale . CXXVII. Upon its gilded sides pourtray'd , Magnificently old , Each ancestor's distinguish'd shade Gave lustre to the gold . CXXVIII . The snowy plumes appear to wave , And arms , and forms divine , Defend the honors which they gave , Or deify the line . CXXIX. On me all seem to turn their eyes Prophetic with my doom , Then , like the rainbow's transient dyes , They melt into a gloom . CXXX. Beyond — all open — silent — dim — The length'ning rooms extend , Where tapers shed a quiv'ring gleam , Each moment strove to end . CXXXI. With bold despair I thither past , My sate's extremes to prove ; 'Till ent'ring , with rude step , the last , I saw my long-lost love . CXXXII. Careless she view'd those arms so fam'd , Nor once remov'd her eyes ; " Rests Ethelinda , " I exclaim'd , " While ruin'd Edmund dies ? CXXXIII . " Or tir'd of having thus withstood , " Resolves she on a crime ? " But Hymen's torch is quench'd in blood , " And yielded up to time . " CXXXIV. " By miracle since thou art come , " She falter'd out , " t' attest " With heav'n my melancholy doom , " I trust to that the rest . CXXXV. " Unjust and cruel — if you knew — " What , doubt my passion yet ? " Edmund , this heart , forever true , " Could break , but not forget . CXXXVI . " Each blush which deepen'd on my cheek , " Declar'd my love's excess ; " Oh learn to think that passion weak , " Which language can express — CXXXVII . " And when the last fond crimson flies " With my expiring breath , " Then , then , allow the sacrifice , " And own my love — in death . CXXXVIII . " Alas ! ev'n now that hour is come — " For think not I would be , " While herbs afford a mortal bloom , " A Bride , and not to thee . " CXXXIX. While yet she spoke , the roseate hue , Which on her soft cheek play'd , And her bright eyes celestial blue Began apace to fade . CXL. O'er her transparent tender skin An icy polish spread ; A nerveless torpor crept within , As she ev'n then were dead . CXLI. More cold , and cold , that heart now grew , Which gave such rich supplies ; More slow , and slow , her breath she drew , 'Till it was nought but sighs . CXLII. And now , beyond the grief of thought — And now devoid of bloom — She seem'd a beauteous statue , wrought To grace her own sad tomb . CXLIII. Astounded — hopeless — reckless — lost — O'er the fair form , tho' dead , Fond fancy's wish , vain reason's boast , My heart in silence bled — CXLIV. No voice its solitude could break — No object win my eye — Not ev'n her sire's complaints could wake A keener agony . CXLV. Alas ! to him who caus'd the grief , Relenting fortune gave A sudden , and a long relief , In Ethelinda's grave . CXLVI. The Monks Lord Albert's will assert — The King allow'd my claim — When did they know a breaking heart Revive upon a name ? CXLVII . Impatient of the proud controul , And thankless for each care , To all these comforters my soul , Sigh'd only out — despair — CXLVIII . Of ev'ry human hope forlorn , All-desolate I ran , Wild as these woods , in them to mourn The miseries of Man . CXLIX. Oft on the hill , the hunters hear The sadly vocal gale , And turn aside with holy fear , Nor dare the copse assail . CL. Ev'n the wild deer , with look profound , My sorrows seem to share , And ev'ry groaning tree around But echoes my despair — CLI. 'Till sometimes , thought's aërial brood , A wan , and num'rous train , Fantastic sons of solitude , Catch life from my wild brain . — CLII. Full threescore times the frosts have bound All streams but from these eyes , Since here my care-worn limbs first found A refuge from the skies . CLIII . Years upon years thus slowly roll , Nor comfort bring to me , Since ev'n in sleep my active soul Lives o'er her misery . CLIV. Dim are my days , and near the hour When death at length is mine ; Which only can my bliss restore , Or bid me ne'er repine . CLV. Ye generous poor , who send me bread , When on my rushy couch , Your little offspring find me dead , With pious hearts approach — CLVI. Hide me in earth , and consecrate With tears this simple tale , So may you ever 'scape the fate Of Edmund of the Vale . THE END .