"His armour, sword, and battle-axe, are at Mr. Sand's of Redington, (Rottington) and at Mr. Wyber's, at St. Bees."-- Machel MSS. Vol. vi. THE SHIELD OF FLANDRENSIS. The Knight sat lone in Old Rydal Hall, Of the line of Flandrensis burly and tall. His book lay open upon the board: His elbow rested on his good sword: His knightly sires and many a dame Look'd on him from panel and dusky frame. High over the hearth was their ancient shield, An argent fret on a blood-red field-- "Peace, Plenty, Wisdom."--"Peace?" he said: "Peace there is none for living or dead." The Autumnal day had died away: The reapers deep in their slumbers lay: The harvest moon through the blazoned panes From Scandale Brow poured in the stains: His household train, and his folk at rest, And most the child that he loved best: His startled ear caught up the swell Of distant sounds he knew too well. By his golden lamp to the shield he said, "Peace? Peace there is none for living or dead." The Knight he came of high degree, None better or braver in arms than he: Worthy of old Flandrensis' fame, Whose soul not battle nor broil could tame. That neighing and trampling of horses late, That hubbub of voices round his gate, That sound of hurry along the floors, That dirge-like wail through distant doors, Tempestuous in the calm, he heard: And he looked on the shield, nor spoke, nor stirr'd. From inmost chambers far remote Responsive flow'd one dirge-like note: Loud through the arches deep and wide One little voice did sweetly glide; Its sad accords along the gloom Swelled on towards that lordly room-- "We wait not long, our watch we keep, We all are singing, and none may sleep: When stone on stone nor roof remain, The unresting shall have rest again." The Knight turned listening to the door. His little maid came up the floor. Her nightly robe of purest white Gleamed purer in the faded light. The blazoned moonbeams slowly swept The spaces round, as on she stept. And lo! in his armour from head to toe, With his beard of a hundred winters' snow, Stood old Flandrensis burly and tall, With his breast to the shield, and his back to the wall. The six score winters in his eyes Unfroze, as on through the blazoned dyes, Sable, and azure, and gules, she came. Through his heaving beard low fluttered her name. But slowly and solemnly, leading or led By phantoms chanting for living or dead, Pass'd on the little voice so sweet-- "We all are singing: we all must meet"-- And into the gloom like a fading ray: And the form of Flandrensis vanished away.