But when old feuds had all been healed, And England's long lost smiling years Returned, and tales of Stoke's red field Fair eyes had ceased to flood with tears; 'Twas whispered 'mid the fields and farms, That once were Broughton's free domain,-- His _banner_, saved from strife of arms, Was somewhere 'mid those homes again. That o'er the hills afar, where lies Lone Witherslack by moorland roads, His own old liegemen true the prize Held fast within their safe abodes. Thrice honour'd in that matchless zeal To brave proscription, death and shame; Thus rescued by their hearths to feel The symbol of his ancient fame! So for old faithfulness renowned, The tenants of that knightly race Their age-long acts of service crowned With that last deed of loyal grace. Last? Nay! for on one Sabbath morn, An old man, blanch'd by years and cares, Gave up his spirit, tired and worn, Amidst those humble liegemen's prayers. Gave up a long secreted life 'Mid hinds and herds, by peasant maids Nurtured and soothed, while shadows rife With death's stern edicts, stalked the glades. He pass'd while Cartmel's monks sang dole, As for a brave man gone to rest; And men sighed, "Glory to his soul!" And wrapt the banner round his breast: And placed the tassell'd bridle reins And spurs that, by his lattice, led His thoughts so oft to far off plains, Beside him in his narrow bed: And borne on high their arms above, As hinds are borne to churchyard cells, With kindly speech of truth and love, Mix'd with the sound of mournful bells, They laid him in a tomb, engraved With no memorial, date, or name; But one dear relic round him, saved To whisper in the earth his fame. And when that age had all gone down To mingle with its native dust, And time his deeds had overgrown, His banner yielded up its trust; And told from one low chancel's shade Where good men sang on holy days-- "Here Broughton's Knight in earth was laid. Peace! To his tenants, endless praise!" NOTES TO "THE BANNER OF BROUGHTON TOWER."