ATHELGIVA. "THERE remains a tradition," observes Mr. Watkins, the writer of the following legendary tale, "that the Abbey of Whitby, on the North coast of Yorkshire, was despoiled during the depredations of the Danes, under the command of Ingua and Hubba, who brought with them the standard on which was embroidered a golden Raven (the work of their sisters), and which was preserved as the Palladium of their security. Edelsteda, who is mentioned in the first stanza, is represented to have been the daughter of Oswin, King of Northumberland, and resided in the Abbey of Whitby. This sanctuary was founded by St. Hilda, sister of King Edwin, who died in 680."-BEDE, and SAX. CHRON. "HERE may'st thou rest, my sister dear! Where royal Edelsteda lived, Where pious Hilda died. "Here peace and quiet ever dwell! Here dread no dire alarms: Nor here is heard the trumpet's sound, With voice composed and look serene, Blue gleamed the steel in Edwy's hand, The warrior's vest he bore; For now the Danes, by Hubba led, His summons, at the abbey-gate, "O, take this virgin to thy care; "Know then, by fierce barbarian bands, We, driven from our home, Through three long days and nights forlorn, The dreary waste did roam. "But, I go these towers to save! I haste to seek Earl Osrick's power, He said—and turned his ready foot : Now, turning to the stranger dame, For never Whitby's holy fane And true she said-for, on her cheek Though grief, with slow and wasting stealth, Her shape was all that thought can form Of elegance and grace, While heaven the beauties of her mind Reflected in her face. "My daughter, lay aside thy fears!" Again the abbess cried: "The Danish spoiler comes not here!" The abbess saw,-the abbess knew, 66 My daughter dear! as to thy friend, I see 't is love disturbs thy mind, "Yet hark!—I hear the vesper-bell! But now the sympathising Muse, That gallant youth befell.— Fast journeying by the bank of Esk, He took his lonely way; And now through showers of driving rain, His erring footsteps stray. At length from far, a glimmering light, Trembling among the trees, And entering soon a moss-built hut, A holy man he sees.— "O father! deign a luckless youth "I fear no robber, stranger! here, “And thou art welcome to my hut," The holy man he cried ; "Still welcome here, is he whom fate 66 Has left without a guide. Whence, and what art thou, gentle youth?"The noble Edwy said, I go to rouse Earl Osrick's power, "Ig And seek Lord Redwald's aid. "My father is a wealthy Lord, Who now with Alfred stays; And me he left to guard his seat, 66 Whilst he his duty pays. But, vain the trust!—in dead of night The devastator came; And o'er each neighbouring castle threw “To shun its rage, at early dawn And Whitby Abbey now affords "Whilst I, to hasten promised aids, Range wildly through the night, And with impatient heart expect The morning's friendly light." So Edwy spake; and wondering, gazed For in his form beam'd manly grace, The hermit sighing, thus he said, "But luckless love dejects my soul, Thou see'st the wretch of woman's pride, Of follies not my own! " I once, amid my Sovereign's train, But blighted is my former fame, "When Ethelred the crown did hold, I to this district came, And then a fair and matchless maid First woke in me a flame. "Her father was a noble Lord, Of an illustrious race, The court's transcendent grace. "'Twas then I told my artless tale, By love alone inspired; In flattering guise attired. "At first she heard, or seemed to hear, The tender voice of love; But soon-the ficklest of her sex, Did she deceitful prove! |