The Abbess of St Abb

Is yon a swan before the gale, O’er winds and waves prevailing? O, no!—it is a shallop’s sail, I hear its inmates wailing!

The monks are crowding to the beach, Where lofty rocks are towering; On high the bishop’s arms stretch, A benison imploring.

Beneath them spreads a sea of foam, Save where the rock’s dividing, A gentle lady, all alone, A shallop’s helm is guiding.

She stretches forth her snowy arms, The aid of man imploring; While rising waves involve her charms, Her little boat devouring.

The little bark, far from the shore, Sinks down with rolling motion; Its shattered sail, and splinter’d oar, Now feed the stormy ocean.

“Tis foolish, monks, to stoop and pray, “Unrobe! and breast the billow; “And rescue from the stormy spray “The maid on briny pillow.”—

The lady floats towards the land— Now in their arms they bear her; A fire is lighted on the strand, With cordials they cheer her.

The spark of life again returns, Her eyes look up in wildness; Her arching forehead madly burns, Then gains its native mildness.

“O who art thou, so young and fair, “That brav’st the stormy ocean?”— She backward threw her silken hair, And answer’d with emotion:

“The Princess of Northumberland, “Edelfrid’s only daughter!— “O wo to Redwald’s bloody hand, “Red with my father’s slaughter.

“I see his vulture legions riven, “When Oswald’s warriors gather; “For know, that I have brothers seven “Who sleep on Scottish heather!

“I saw the Anglian banners float, “Their host was thrice our number!— “A foeman’s chain my hapless lot, “I sought the flowing Humber.

“A father fallen—my brothers fled! “My mind lost and divided; “When, lo! beside the river’s bed “Yon shallop Heaven provided.

“My frail bark met the stormy gale, “No human aid to guide me, “I gave to Heaven my little sail— “A spirit sat beside me.

“And aye as near some rocky isle “My soul began to shudder, “It cheer’d me with celestial smile, “And sway’d the wayward rudder.”

“Sweet lady, to our pious care “Intrust your youth and beauty; “To one in mind and form so fair “Protection is a duty.”—

The bishop kiss’d her snowy hand, And led her to his palace; The Princess of Northumberland Might made a matron jealous.

O fair as she of Eden’s bowers, When innocence array’d her! Before the serpent ’mongst the flowers To thorny paths betray’d her.

“Ebba! when I behold that face, “And eye so softly beaming, “Devotion’s every charm I trace “Through fairest features streaming.

“When I behold thy pious air, “Thou favour’d child of Heaven, “To one so faultless, yet so fair, “I think that grace is given.

“Thy bosom’s like a glassy lake, “Wherein that heaven’s reflected; “And when the storms of life awake, “Thou still wilt be protected.

“Around thee in eternal spring “Will grace and beauty blossom, “Till heaven on its angel wing, “Shall call thee to its bosom.

“Then sigh not for the world’s parade, “With all its guilty splendour, “But seek the cloister’s holy shade— “To God your charms surrender!”—

I scarce need say, the bishop’s tale O’er female heart prevailing, That Princess Ebba took the veil, Her former life bewailing.

Then there was not beneath the sun In his diurnal glory, A purer or a prettier nun To grace a poet’s story.

When her novitiate had sped, So well she’d done her duty, They hail’d her Abbess of St Abb, Renown’d for worth and beauty.