The darksome altars would have blazed
Like stars when clouds are rolled away;
Salvation to all eyes that gazed,
Once more the Rood had been upraised
To spread its arms, and stand for aye.
Then, then, had I survived to see
New life in Bolton Priory;

The voice restored, the eye of Truth
Reopened that inspired my youth;
To see her in her pomp arrayed,
This Banner (for such vow I made)
Should on the consecrated breast
Of that same Temple have found rest:
I would myself have hung it high,
Fit offering of glad victory!

"A shadow of such thought remains, To cheer this sad and pensive time; A solemn fancy yet sustains One feeble Being,- bids me climb Even to the last, - one effort more

To attest my Faith, if not restore.

"Hear, then,' said he, 'while I impart,

My Son, the last wish of my heart.

The Banner strive thou to regain ;
And, if the endeavor prove not vain,

Bear it to whom, if not to thee

Shall I this lonely thought consign? -
Bear it to Bolton Priory,

VOL. IV.

And reverently the Band went forth.

They met, when they had reached the door, One with profane and harsh intent

Placed there, that he might go before,

And, with that rueful Banner borne

Aloft, in sign of taunting scorn,
Conduct them to their punishment:
So cruel Sussex, unrestrained
By human feeling, had ordained.
The unhappy Banner Francis saw,
And, with a look of calm command
Inspiring universal awe,

He took it from the soldier's hand;
And all the people that stood round
Confirmed the deed in peace profound.
High transport did the Father shed
Upon his Son, and they were led,
Led on, and yielded up their breath;
Together died, a happy death!—
But Francis, soon as he had braved
That insult, and the Banner saved,
Athwart the unresisting tide
Of the spectators occupied
In admiration or dismay,

Bore instantly his Charge away."

These things, which thus had in the sight

And hearing passed of him who stood
With Emily, on the Watch-tower height,
In Rylstone's woful neighborhood,