Publisher's Synopsis
This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can usually download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1865 edition. Excerpt: ...Thou ne'er wouldst wed but one? He comes, I trow, to claim it now, Thine own John Harrington. "Though many a day hath pass'd away Since those bright times we knew, This heart, though not so light and gay, Is still as warm and true. "Oh lovely star of auld lang syne! That long hast ruled its core, This day at last hath made thee mine, To part, I ween, no more." "Now, by my troth," Sir Edgar cried, "Right welcome back, my son; Full surely shalt thou wed the bride Thou hast So bravely won." Even as the sire his son embraced, (By chance it so befell, ) The Prior of St Mary's pass'd To drink the Holy Well. Sir Edgar straight the priest besought To tarry for a while; Who, when the lady's eye he caught, Assented with a smile. The monk he had a mellow heart, And, scrambling to the spot, Full blithely there he play'd his part, And tied the nuptial knot. And hence that cave on Humphrey Hill, Where these fair deeds befell, Is call'd Sir Edgar's Chapel still, As hunters wot full well. And still that holy fount is there To which the prior came; And still it boasts its virtues rare, And bears its ancient name. And long on Wraysholme's lattice light A wolf's head might be traced, In record of the red-cross knight Who bore it for a crest. In Cartmel's church his grave is shown, And o'er it, side by side, All graved in stone, lie brave Sir John, And Adela his bride. THE EVE OF ST JOHN: A LEGENDARY BALLAD. By Charles Swain. She waiteth by the forest stream, She sitteth on the ground; While the moonlight, like a mantle, Wraps her tenderly around! She sitteth through the cold, cold night, But not a step draws near; Though his name is on her trembling lips, His voice meets not her ear! Hist! was't the haunted stream that...