©attties of tfje $$w& 
 
 S IR ELDRED OF THE BOWER, 
 
 iPART I. 
 
 BY HANNAH MORE* 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 I PUBLISHED FOR J. T. WARD AND. CO. 
 3, Bread-Street-Hill, Cheapside. 
 
 [Id. 
 
SIR ELDRED OF THE BOW M. 
 
 There was a young and valiant knight 1 
 
 Sir Eldred was his name. 
 And never did a worthier wight 
 
 The rank of knighthood claim. 
 
 Where gliding Tay, her stream sends forfl 
 To feed the neighbouring wood, 
 
 The ancient glory of the North, 
 Sir Eldred's castle stood. 
 
 The youth was rich as youth might be 
 
 In patrimonial dower ; 
 And many a noble feat had he 
 
 Atchieved, in hall, and bower. 
 
 He did not think as some have thought! 
 
 Whom honor never crown'd, \ 
 The fame a father dearly bought, | 
 
 Cou d make the son renown d. 
 
3 
 
 j e better thought, a noble sire, 
 
 Who gallant deeds had done, 
 \ deeds of hardihood shou'd tire 
 
 A brave and gallant son. 
 
 the fairest ancestry on earth 
 
 Without desert is poor ; 
 hd every deed of lofty worth 
 
 Is but a claim for more. 
 
 Sir Eldred's heart was good and kind, 
 
 Alive to pity's call ; 
 A crowd of virtues grac'd his mind, 
 
 He lov'd, and felt for all. 
 
 ken merit rais'd the sufferer's name, 
 He show Yd his bounty then ; 
 
 And those who cou'd not prove that claim, 
 He succour'd still as men. 
 
 2 
 
But sacred truth the Muse compels 
 
 His errors to impart ; 
 And yet the Muse reluctant, tells 
 
 The fault of Eldred's heart. 
 
 Tho' kind and gentle as the dove 5 
 As free from guile and art, 
 
 And mild, and soft as infant love 
 The feelings of his heart ; 
 
 Yet if the passions storm'd his soul, 
 
 By jealousy led on ; 
 The whirlwind rage disdain' d controu! 
 
 And bore his virtues down* 
 
 Not Thule's waves so wildly break 
 To drown the northern shore ; 
 
 Not Etna's entrails fiercer shake ; 
 Or Scathia's tempest roar* 
 
5 
 
 \ s when in summer's sweetest day, 
 
 To fan the fragrant morn, 
 The sighing breezes softly stray 
 
 O'er fields of ripen'd corn ; 
 
 Sudden the lightning's blast descends,, 
 
 Deforms the ravag'd fields; 
 At once the various ruin blends, 
 
 And all resistless yields. 
 
 Bat when, to clear his stormy breast, 
 
 The sun of reason shone, 
 [And ebbing passions sunk to rest, 
 
 And shew'd what rage had done : 
 
 10 then what anguish he betray'd ! 
 
 His shame how deep, how true ! 
 |He view'd the waste his rage had made, 
 
 And shudder' d at the view. 
 
 3 
 
6 
 
 The rneek-ey'd dawn, in saffron robe, I 
 
 Proclaim'd the op'ning day, I 
 
 Uprose the sun to gild the globe, I 
 
 And hail the new-born May ; I 
 
 The birds their vernal notes repeat, I 
 
 And glad the thickening grove, I 
 
 And feather'd partner's fondly greet I 
 
 With many a song of love; I 
 
 When pious Eldred walk'd abroad I 
 
 His morning vows to pay, I 
 
 And hail'd the universal Lord 1 
 Who gave the goodly day. 
 
 That done— he left his woodland glade, 
 
 And journey'd far away : 
 He lov d to court the stranger shade, 
 
 And thro' the lone vale stray. 
 
Within the bosom of a wood, 
 
 By circling hills embrac'd, 
 A little modest mansion stood, 
 
 Built by the hand of taste. 
 
 While many a prouder castle fell, 
 
 This safely did endure ; 
 The house where guardian virtues dwell* 
 
 Is sacred, and secure. 
 
 Of eglantine an humble fence 
 
 Around the mansion stood, 
 Which charm'd at once the ravish'd sense., 
 
 And screen'd an infant wood. 
 
 The wood received an added grace, 
 
 As pleas' d it bent to look, 
 And view'd its ever verdant face 
 
 Reflected on a brook. 
 
8 
 
 The smallness of the stream did well. 
 
 The master's fortunes shew ; 
 But little streams may serve to tell 
 
 From what a source they flow. 
 
 This mansion own'd an aged knight. 
 
 And such a man was he, 
 As heaven just shews to human siglii 
 
 To tell what man shou'd bo. 
 
 His youth in many a well-fought field 
 Was train'd betimes to war; 
 
 His bosom, like a well-worn shield, 
 W as graced with many a scar ; 
 
 The vigour of a green old age 
 His reverend form did bear ; 
 
 And yet, alas ! the warrior-sage 
 Had drain' d the dregs of care ; 
 
9 
 
 I And sorrow more than age can break, 
 I And wound its hapless prey ; 
 I'Twas sorrow furrow'd his firm cheek 
 
 ■ And turn'd his bright locks grey. 
 
 ■ One darling daughter sooth'd his cares 
 I A young and beauteous dame ; 
 
 I Sole comfort of his failing years, 
 I And Birtha was her name. 
 
 I Her heart a little sacred shrine, 
 I Where all the virtues meet ; 
 ■And holy hope, and faith divine, 
 I Had claim'd it for their seat. 
 
 ne rear'd a fair and fragrant bower 
 Of wild and rustic taste, 
 nd there she screen'd each fav'rite flower 
 F rom every ruder blast, 
 
to 
 
 And not a shrub or plant was there 
 But did some moral yield ; 
 
 For wisdom by a father's care, 
 Was found in every field. 
 
 The trees, whose foliage fell away, 
 And with the summer died, 
 
 He thought an image of decay 
 Might lecture human pride. 
 
 While fair, perennial greens that stood, 
 And brav'd the wintry blast, 
 
 As types of the fair mind he view'd 
 Which shall for ever last, 
 
 He taught her that the gaudiest flowei 
 Were seldom fragrant found ; 
 
 But wasted soon their little powers 
 Lay useless on the g round : 
 
LI 
 
 White the sweet-scented rose shall last. 
 
 And boast its fragrant power, 
 When life's imperfect day is past, 
 
 And beauty's shorter hour. 
 
 And here the virgin lov'd to lead 
 
 Her inoffensive day, 
 And here she oft retir'd to read, 
 I And oft retir'd to pray. 
 
 [Enibower'd she grac'd the woodland shades, 
 
 From courts and cities far, 
 The pride of Caledonian maids, 
 
 The peerless northern star. 
 
 Is shines that bright and blazing star, 
 The glory of the night, 
 Hen sailing through the cloudless air, 
 She sheds her silver light : 
 
13 
 
 So Birtha shone !— but when she spoke 
 The muse herself was heard, 
 
 As on the ravish' d air she broke, 
 And thus her prayer preferred 
 
 « O bless thy Birtha, power supreme, 
 < In whom I live and move, 
 
 * And bless me most by blessing him 
 « Whom more .than life Llove.' 
 
 She starts to hear a stranger 8 voice, 
 And with a modest grace 
 
 She lifts her meek eye in surprize, 
 And sees a stranger's face. 
 
 The stranger lost m transport stood, 
 Bereft of voice and pow'r, 
 
 While she with equal wonder viewM 
 Sk Eidved of the Bower.