The maid whose virgin breast is void of guile, No net to snare her willing heart is spread; November 26, 1806. ELEGY ON NEWSTEAD ABBEY "It is the voice of years that are gone! they roll before me with all their deeds."- Ossian. NEWSTEAD! fast-falling, once-replendent dome! * Henry II. founded Newstead soon after the murder of Thomas à Becket. Of warriors, monks, and dames the cloistered tomb, Whose pensive shades around thy ruins glide, Hail to thy pile! more honored in thy fall No mail-clad serfs, obedient to their lord, Their chief's retainers, an immortal band: Else might inspiring Fancy's magic eye But not from thee, dark pile! departs the chief; Yes! in thy gloomy cells and shades profound A monarch bade thee from that wild arise, The red cross was the badge of the crusaders. And Superstition's crimes, of various dyes, Where now the grass exhales a murky dew, Nor raised their pious voices but to pray. Where now the bats their wavering wings extend Years roll on years; to ages, ages yield; One holy HENRY reared the gothic walls, And bade the pious inmates rest in peace; Another HENRY ‡ the kind gift recalls, And bids devotion's hallowed echoes cease. Vain is each threat or supplicating prayer; * As "gloaming," the Scottish word for twilight, is far more poetical, and has been recommended by many eminent literary men, particularly by Dr. Moore in his Letters to Burns, I have ventured to use it on account of its harmony. The priory was dedicated to the Virgin. At the dissolution of the monasteries, Henry VIII. bestowed Newstead Abbey on Sir John Byron. To roam a dreary world in deep despair - Hark how the hall, resounding to the strain, Of changing sentinels the distant hum, The mirth of feasts, the clang of burnished arms, The braying trumpet and the hoarser drum, Unite in concert with increased alarms. An abbey once, a regal fortress* now, War's dread machines o'erhang thy threatening brow, Ah vain defence! the hostile traitor's siege, Not unavenged the raging baron yields; The blood of traitors smears the purple plain; Still in that hour the warrior wished to strew Newstead sustained a considerable siege in the war between Charles I. and his parliament. But Charles' protecting genius hither flew, The monarch's friend, the monarch's hope, to save. Trembling, she snatched him* from th' unequal In other fields the torrent to repel; For nobler combats, here, reserved his life, [strife, To lead the band where godlike FALKLAND † fell. From thee, poor pile! to lawless plunder given, There many a pale and ruthless robber's corse, Graves, long with rank and sighing weeds o'erspread, From ruffian fangs escape not e'en the dead, Hushed is the harp, unstrung the warlike lyre, * Lord Byron, and his brother Sir William, held high commands in the royal army. The former was general in chief in Ireland, lieutenant of the Tower, and governor to James, Duke of York, afterwards the unhappy James II.; the latter had a principal share in many actions. Lucius Cary, Lord Viscount Falkland, the most accomplished man of his age, was killed at the battle of Newbury, charging in the ranks of Lord Byron's regiment of cavalry. |