“He neither shall be clothed In purple nor in pall, But all in fair linen, As were babies all; He neither shall be rocked In silver nor in gold, But in a wooden cradle, That rocks on the mould.” At the close he went to the door, and before he entered called her gently by name. The tone of voice in which he spoke had the effect which he intended, and, without any cry of alarm, she rose up quietly and turned round; but she no sooner beheld his military dress than her terror became excessive. It was quite in vain that he attempted to bring himself to her recollection: the fear of being dragged forth and led to the stake was uppermost, and entirely bewildered her. In his person she saw only one of those from whose hands she had so recently escaped, and her shrieks and implorations were agonising to hear. To relieve her he quitted the ruin; and before he was many hundred yards from it had the pain of seeing her on the far side of it hobbling fast towards the cover of the adjoining wood for concealment. He walked to his quarters in a miserable and dejected mood; and as he passed an open church which had apparently been occupied by Parliamentary soldiers, he went in for a moment. It was empty: the tombs and monuments had been broken and their inscriptions defaced: not a pane of glass in the tall windows had escaped destruction: a painting over the altar had been hacked to pieces; and, as if in mockery, the tables of God’s commandments were left on either side plainly legible, and above, in the midst, might be seen, in letters of gold, the words of that message of mercy which the angels of God sang to the shepherds keeping watch by night, when they announced the advent of Messiah,--_Peace on earth,--good will towards man_. CHAP. XII. Thus see we how these ugly furious spirits Of warre are cloth’d, colour’d, and disguis’d, With stiles of vertue, honour, zeale, and merits, Whose owne complexion, well anatomis’d, A mixture is of pride, rage, avarice, Ambition, lust, and every tragicke vice. LORD BROOKE.