The Horn of Egremont Castle

When the Brothers reached the gateway,Eustace pointed with his lanceTo the Horn which there was hanging;Horn of the inheritance.Horn it was which none could sound,No one upon living ground,Save He who came as rightful HeirTo Egremont's Domains and Castle fair.

Heirs from ages without recordHad the House of Lucie born,Who of right had claim'd the LordshipBy the proof upon the Horn:Each at the appointed hourTried the Horn,—it own'd his power;He was acknowledged: and the blast,Which good Sir Eustace sounded, was the last.

With his lance Sir Eustace pointed,And to Hubert thus said he,"What I speak this Horn shall witness"For thy better memory."Hear, then, and neglect me not!"At this time, and on this spot,"The words are utter'd from my heart,"As my last earnest prayer ere we depart.

"On good service we are going"Life to risk by sea and land;"In which course if Christ our Saviour"Do my sinful soul demand,"Hither come thou back straightway,"Hubert, if alive that day;"Return, and sound the Horn, that we"May have a living House still left in thee!"

"Fear not," quickly answered Hubert;"As I am thy Father's son,"What thou askest, noble Brother,"With God's favour shall be done."So were both right well content:From the Castle forth they went.And at the head of their ArrayTo Palestine the Brothers took their way.

Side by side they fought (the Lucies(Were a line for valour fam'd)And where'er their strokes alightedThere the Saracens were tam'd.Whence, then, could it come the thought,By what evil spirit brought?Oh! can a brave Man wish to takeHis Brother's life, for Land's and Castle's sake?

"Sir!" the Ruffians said to Hubert,"Deep he lies in Jordan flood."—Stricken by this ill assurance,Pale and trembling Hubert stood."Take your earnings."—Oh! that ICould have seen my Brother die!It was a pang that vex'd him then;Aud oft returned, again, and yet again.

Months pass'd on, and no Sir Eustace!Nor of him were tidings heard.Wherefore, bold as day, the MurdererBack again to England steer'd.To his Castle Hubert sped;He has nothing now to dread.But silent and by stealth he came,And at an hour which nobody could name.

None could tell if it were night-time,Night or day, at even or morn;For the sound was heard by no oneOf the proclamation-horn.But bold Hubert lives in glee:Months and years went smilingly;With plenty was his table spread;And bright the Lady is who shares his bed.

Likewise he had Sons and Daughters;And, as good men do, he sateAt his board by these surrounded,Flourishing in fair estate.And, while thus in open dayOnce he sate, as old books say,A blast was utter'd from the Horn,Where by the Castle-gate it hung forlorn.

'Tis the breath of good Sir Eustace!He is come to claim his right:Ancient Castle, Woods, and MountainsHear the challenge with delight.Hubert! though the blast be blownHe is helpless and alone:Thou hast a dungeon, speak the word!And there he may be lodg'd, and thou be Lord.

Speak!—astounded Hubert cannot;And if power to speak he had,All are daunted, all the householdSmitten to the heart, and sad.'Tis Sir Eustace; if it beLiving Man, it must be he!Thus Hubert thought in his dismay,And by a Postern-gate he slunk away.

Long, and long was he unheard of:To his Brother then he came,Made confession, ask'd forgiveness,Ask'd it by a Brother's name,And by all the saints in heaven;And of Eustace was forgiv'n:Then in a Convent went to hideHis melancholy head, and there he died.

But Sir Eustace, whom good AngelsHad preserv'd from Murderers' hands,And from Pagan chains had rescued,Liv'd with honour on his lands.Sons he had, saw Sons of theirs:And through ages, Heirs of Heirs,A long posterity renown'd,Sounded the Horn which they alone could sound.