"I am no Traitor," Francis said, "Though this unhappy freight I bear; And must not part with. But beware;-- Err not, by hasty zeal misled,[166] 110 Nor do a suffering Spirit wrong, Whose self-reproaches are too strong!" At this he from the beaten road Retreated towards a brake of thorn, That[167] like a place of vantage showed; 115 And there stood bravely, though forlorn. In self-defence with warlike brow[168] He stood,--nor weaponless was now; He from a Soldier's hand had snatched A spear,--and, so protected, watched 120 The Assailants, turning round and round; But from behind with treacherous wound A Spearman brought him to the ground. The guardian lance, as Francis fell, Dropped from him; but his other hand 125 The Banner clenched; till, from out the Band, One, the most eager for the prize, Rushed in; and--while, O grief to tell! A glimmering sense still left, with eyes Unclosed the noble Francis lay-- 130 Seized it, as hunters seize their prey; But not before the warm life-blood Had tinged more deeply, as it flowed, The wounds the broidered Banner showed, Thy fatal work, O Maiden, innocent as good![169] 135 Proudly the Horsemen bore away The Standard; and where Francis lay[170] There was he left alone, unwept, And for two days unnoticed slept. For at that time bewildering fear 140 Possessed the country, far and near; But, on the third day, passing by One of the Norton Tenantry Espied the uncovered Corse; the Man Shrunk as he recognised the face, 145 And to the nearest homesteads ran And called the people to the place. --How desolate is Rylstone-hall! This was the instant thought of all; And if the lonely Lady there 150 Should be; to her they cannot bear This weight of anguish and despair. So, when upon sad thoughts had prest Thoughts sadder still, they deemed it best That, if the Priest should yield assent 155 And no one hinder their intent,[171] Then, they, for Christian pity's sake, In holy ground a grave would make; And straightway[172] buried he should be In the Church-yard of the Priory. 160 Apart, some little space, was made The grave where Francis must be laid. In no confusion or neglect This did they,--but in pure respect That he was born of gentle blood; 165 And that there was no neighbourhood Of kindred for him in that ground: So to the Church-yard they are bound, Bearing the body on a bier; And psalms they sing--a holy sound 170 That hill and vale with sadness hear.[173]