{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/wikisource_Hermit_of_Powis/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/wikisource_Hermit_of_Powis","id":"wikisource_Hermit_of_Powis","license":"Public Domain / CC-BY-SA (see source)","rights_basis":"wikisource_site_inclusion_policy","source":"wikisource","source_url":"https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Hermit_of_Powis","summary":null,"tags":["1873_works","Ballads","Chapbooks","Christianity","Main_pages_with_authority_control_data","Marriage","PD-old","Religion","Romance","Scottish_poetry","Works_using_categories_parameter"],"text":"THE\n\n\u00a0\n\nHERMIT OF POWIS:\n\n\u00a0\n\nA\n\nBALLAD ROMANCE\n\nOf the Olden Times.\n\n\u00a0\n\n\u00a0\n\nABERDEEN:\n\nGEORGE MIDDLETON,\n\nSKENE SQUARE,\n\n1873.\n\nThe Hermit of Powis.\n\nThe Hermit of Powis lived in his cell,\n\nAnd shunned the converse of man;\n\nHis food was the coarsest, his drink was the brook\n\nThat near to the Hermitage ran.\n\nHe mumbled his prayers, and counted his beads,\n\nAnd scourged his flesh wi' twine,\n\nIn the hope to atone for the sins of the soul\n\nBy the body's doll and pine.\n\nAnd who was the Hermit, and what were his sins,\n\nThat merited penance so drear?\u2014\n\nList ye to the tale of a soothfast bard,\n\nAnd both shall quickly appear:\n\nThe Hermit had stood a noble Earl\n\nIn the presence of his King\u2014\n\nHad gaily hunted the boar and the stag,\n\nAnd fought in the field and the ring.\n\nThe Hermit now so withered and grim,\n\nWas an Earl so fair to see,\n\nThat there was no' a lady in a' the land\n\nBut had sighed at the blink o' his e'e.\n\nBut the Earl gave his heart to the fairest maid\n\nIn the bounds of Scotland wide\u2014\n\nTo the sweet Mary Hay, the flower o' the Don,\n\nAnd her father's hope and pride.\n\nBut her father was no' a belted knight,\n\nBut a man of low degree,\n\nAnd it grieved his heart his daughter's love\n\nFor a noble Earl to see.\n\n\"There never cam' good o' a lordling's love\n\nFor a maid so lowly born;\n\nHe'll win your heart, and break your heart,\n\nAnd leave you the seath and the scorn.\"\n\n\"O little d\u2019ye ken, my father dear,\n\nThis leal Lord\u2019s love for me;\n\nHe's won my heart, and he\u2019s sought my hand,\n\nAnd his bride I have sworn to be.\"\n\nAnd the Earl so loved this lowly maid,\n\nThat he gave her his lordly hand,\n\nAnd made her mistress of all his castles,\n\nAnd lady of all his land.\n\nAnd time ran on till a year had gone,\n\nBut never, by night or day,\n\nWas the gallant Leslie absent from\n\nThe side of his Mary Hay.\n\nThe noblemen round might look askance,\n\nTheir ladies might scoff and sneer;\n\nHis Mary was all the world to him,\n\nAnd he to her was as dear.\n\nTill town and country, high and low,\n\nThe truth must needs declare,\n\nThat never, in palace, castle, or cot,\n\nHad been witnessed a happier pair.\n\nBut it fell on a day, a sweet summer\u2019s day,\n\nThat there came, with white foam o\u2019er,\n\nA steed with a royal messenger,\n\nAnd this was the message he bore;\n\n\"Boot ye! Spur ye! noble Earl\u2014\n\nGo saddle your steed and ride!\n\nFor the English loons, with fire and sword,\n\nHave crossed the border side.\n\n\"And need have we of our bravest knights,\n\nAnd need of their stoutest men,\n\nAnd stouter or braver than you, Lord Earl,\n\nThere\u2019s none in our royal ken.\"\n\nWhen Mary heard this message read,\n\nHer cheeks grew pale and wan,\n\nBut when she saw her Leslie\u2019s steed\n\nThe tears in torrents ran.\n\n\"O, let me gang, my Leslie dear,\n\nYour perils all to share?\n\nI\u2019ll run a foot page by your side,\n\nThe battle field I\u2019ll dare.\n\nWhen dangers flash around your head,\n\nI'll cry to heaven to save;\n\nAnd if you\u2019re wounded in the fight,\n\nMy eare will cheat the grave.\"\n\n\"That never eould be, my darling wife\u2014\n\nBut I'll not tarry long,\n\nFor numerous are our Scottish bands,\n\nTheir hearts are brave and strong.\n\nAnd soon we\u2019ll drive the English loons\n\nAcross the border side,\n\nAnd I'll bring fouth of Southern spoil\n\nTo deck my lovely bride.\"\n\n\"I eare no' for pearls, jewels, nor gold,\n\nNor robes of silken sheen,\n\nI'd rather have you, my Leslie, safe,\n\nThan the splendours of a queen.\"\n\nLord Leslie kissed her lips and eheeks,\n\nAs pale as the lily flower;\n\nThen bade her maidens bear her in,\n\nAnd tend her well in her bower.\n\nBut wheu he rode from his castle door\n\nAt the head of his warlike band,\n\nHis Mary Hay was the saddest wife\n\nIn all the Seottish land.\n\nOur Seottish king his warlike bands\n\nLed forth in gallant order,\n\nAnd drove the Southern loons, like sheep,\n\nOver the English border.\n\nThen boldly marched on Southern soil\n\nTo pay them ill for ill,\n\nAnd drove the beeves from off their fields,\n\nAnd the sheep from off the hill.\n\nAnd when he\u2019d paid the knavish loons\n\nA penny for their plaek,\n\nHe led his troops with little loss\n\nAnd miekle plunder back.\n\nAnd feasted at the Seottish court\n\nFor thirty days and three,\n\nThe noble lords who in the war\n\nHad borne him company.\n\nAnd formest in the field of fight,\n\nAnd foremost in the sport,\n\nThe brave Earl Leslie bore the palm\n\nO'er all the Seottish eourt.\n\nThe Lady Arabella Stewart,\n\nThe daughter of a king,\n\nTho' her mother did not share a throne\n\nNor wear a wedding ring,\n\nCast eyes on this same noble lord\n\nIn her royal brother's hall,\n\nAnd saw him, in faee and eourtly graee,\n\nThe fairest of them all.\n\nAnd she has gotten her to the king,\n\nFallen low down on her knee\u2014\n\n\"O royal Lord, O brother dear,\n\nAn asking grant to me!\"\n\n\"Rise up! Rise up! Our sister dear,\n\nYour asking you shall have,\n\nBe it gold or gear, or house or land,\n\nOr title, that ye erave.\"\n\n\"I crave nor title, house, nor land,\n\nI erave nor gold, nor gear,\n\nBut it\u2019s all for a lord at your royal court\n\nThat I plead in your royal ear.\n\nLord Leslie he has ensnared my heart,\n\nBy arts that I eannot divine;\n\nAnd I erave your aid, my sovereign liege,\n\nThis witchery to untwine.\"\n\n\"And if Lord Leslie has stolen your heart,\n\nThis choiee to him I\u2019ll gie,\n\nEither to offer you marriage to-morrow,\n\nOr else to be hanged on a tree.\"\n\nLord Leslie sat and laughed and joked,\n\nIn the midst of a merry ring,\n\nWhen word was brought him to repair\n\nTo audienee with the King.\n\n\"There\u2019s a nobleman at our court, Lord Earl,\n\nPartaking our royal eheer,\n\nWho by wicked art has trepanned the heart\n\nOf a lady that we hold dear.\n\nThe Lady Arabella Stewart,\n\nThe fairest of our fair,\n\nHas lost her heart, and to you Lord Earl,\n\nDeny it if you dare.\n\nBut you are a true and a warlike lord,\n\nAnd this is the choice we'll gie\u2014\n\nEither to marry the lady we've named,\n\nOr swing like a rogue on a tree.\"\n\n\"My Liege! my Sire! my Sovereign Lord!\n\nI\u2019ve used no wizardrie,\n\nAnd if I have won the heart of this maid,\n\nThe prize was unsought by me.\n\nAnd if my choice be to wed or to hang,\n\nMy Sire, I must lose my life,\n\nFor how can I wed Lady Arabel Stewart,\n\nAnd leave a better-loved wife?\"\n\n\"And who may be this wife, Lord Earl,\n\nThat you hold so wondrous dear;\n\nAnd how does it chance that the lady\u2019s name\n\nShould never have reachcd our car?\"\n\n\"My wife is not sprung from noble sires\u2014\n\nHcr kin are of low degree,\n\nBut dear as a queen to her royal spouse\n\nIs the choice of my heart to me.\"\n\n\"A peasant can be but a leman, my Lord,\n\nTo one that is nobly born,\n\nAnd, the word of a King, you\u2019ll marry our ward,\n\nOr swing ere a second grey morn!\"\n\nThe brave Lord Leslie left the King,\n\nA doleful man I ween;\n\nBut a change took place in his comely faee\n\nThat day ere the fall of e'cn.\n\nThat day was holden a tournament,\n\nThe Queen was taken ill\u2014\n\nAnd who but the Lady Arabel Stewart\n\nWas chosen her placc to fill.\n\nRight wcll she played hcr Queenly part,\n\nAnd charmed the hearts of a';\n\nBut for every smile she gave the rest\n\nShe gave Lord Leslic twa.\n\nWhen days had eome and days had passed,\n\nLord Leslie had no' swung,\n\nBut for him aud the Lady Arabel Stewart,\n\nThe wedding bells were rung.\n\nAnd he has gotten a trusty page\n\nHis messages all to bear,\n\nAnd sent him on to Mary Hay\n\nTo break the tidings with eare.\n\nTo offer her gold, to offer her gear,\n\nTo offer her houses or land\u2014\n\nTo tell her that she was free to love\n\nAnd marry a lowlier man.\n\nThe news were said, the offers were made,\n\nAnd the salt tears did no' come;\n\nBut she sat like a statue, or eorpse of the dead,\n\nAs motionless, paly, and dumb.\n\nShe never cast blame on her faithless lord,\n\nNor uttered one word to displease,\n\nBut she drooped her head like a frost-nipt rose,\n\nAnd faded by slow degrees.\n\nAnd day by day she withered away,\n\nTill the fell destroyer Death\n\nLaid his skeleton hand on her marble lips,\n\nAnd cheeked their quivering breath.\n\nNow word\u2019s gone on to Edinburgh town,\n\nAnd reached Lord Leslie\u2019s ear,\n\nThat the eold earth lay on the Mary Hay\n\nWhom he onee had valued so dear.\n\n\"O woe\u2019s me now!\" Lord Leslie cried,\n\nAs he tore his raven hair,\n\n\"I\u2019ve killed the fairest, dearest wife,\n\nThat ever breathed Northern air.\n\nLove me, Lady Arabel Stewart!\n\nWell may you love me noo,\n\nFor I\u2019ve blighted the fairest flower of the North,\n\nAnd all for the sake of you!\n\nWell may ye sigh, Lady Arabel Stewart,\n\nAnd well may your tears be shed;\n\nBut ye eanna bring peaee to this perjured heart,\n\nUnless ye bring back the dead!\"\n\nLord Leslie fled away from his home,\n\nAnd none knew whither he went;\n\nHis lands fell in to his next of kin,\n\nAnd his gold by his lady was spent.\n\nBut when years had sped, and his lady was dead,\n\nAnd his name forgotten \u2019mongst men,\n\nA Hermit appeared in Powis\u2019s grounds,\n\nAnd made him a sort of a den.\n\nHe prayed, and starved, and scourged himself,\n\nTill his lean frame leaner grew,\n\nBut at last the curtain dropt on the sccne,\n\nAnd then the truth we knew.\n\nFor a scroll was found hy the side of the corpse,\n\nAnd these were the words it bore:\n\n\"This is the clay of Leslie the Earl,\n\nWho sinned and suffered so sore.\"\n\nI\u2019ve told this tale of the days of old\n\nIn a simple, homely strain,\n\nBut if it create one thought like this,\n\nIt has not been told in vain:\n\nAn honest, truthful, rightful course\n\nIs the best for death or time,\n\nFor present anguish and future woe\n\nAre the offspring of vice and crime.\n\n\u00a0\n\nDavidson & Smith. Printers, Aberdeen.\n\nThis work was published before January 1, 1931, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.\n\nPublic domainPublic domainfalsefalse","title":"Hermit of Powis","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":1795}