"But I must go--these towers to save; Beneath the evening shade, I haste to seek Earl Osrick's pow'r, And call Lord Redwald's aid." He said--and turn'd his ready foot; The abbess nought replies; But, with a look that spoke her grief, To heaven upcast her eyes. Then, turning to the stranger dame, "O welcome to this place; For never Whitby's holy fane Did fairer maiden grace." And true she said--for on her cheek Was seen young beauty's bloom, Though grief, with slow and wasting stealth, Did then her prime consume. Her shape was all that thought can frame, Of elegance and grace; And heav'n the beauties of her mind Reflected in her face. "My daughter, lay aside thy fears," Again the matron cry'd, "No Danish ravishers come here--" --Again the virgin sigh'd. The abbess saw, the abbess knew, 'Twas love that shook her breast; And thus, in accents soft and mild, The mournful maid addrest, "My daughter dear, as to thy friend Be all thy care confest; I see 'tis love disturbs thy mind, And wish to give thee rest. "But hark! I hear the vesper bell, Now summons us to prayer; That duty done, with needful food Thy wasted strength repair." But now the pitying mournful muse Of Edwy's hap shall tell; And what amid his nightly walk That gallant youth befell. For 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 Trembled among the trees: And entering soon a moss-built hut, A holy man he sees. "O father, deign a luckless youth This night with thee to shield; I am no robber, though my arm This deadly weapon wield." "I fear no robber, stranger, here, For I have nought to lose; And thou mayst safely through the night In this poor cell repose. "And thou art welcome to my hut," The holy man replied; "Still welcome here is he whom fate Has left without a guide. "Whence and what art thou, gentle youth?" The noble Edwy said, "I go to rouse Earl Osrick's power, 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, Whilst he his duty pays. "But vain the hope--in dead of night The cruel spoiler came; And o'er each neighb'ring castle threw The wide-devouring flame. "To shun its rage, at early dawn, I with my sister fled; And Whitby's abbey now affords A shelter to her head. "Whilst I, to hasten promised aids, Range wildly through the night, And, with impatient mind, expect The morning's friendly light." Thus Edwy spoke; and wondering, gazed Upon his hermit host, For in his form beam'd manly grace, Untouch'd by age's frost.