Classic Poem

Ballad of Rosemarie, The; or, The White Cockade

Red are the roses by the tower
That looks rose-red on Caldew's tide,
But fallen and frayed the milk-white flower —
Gaunt Warwick's badge of battle pride, —
Yet Rose, one blossom cannot fade
Thy knightly flower, the White Cockade!

It chanced on a November's day
The cruel northern winds did blow,
And darkly Caldew swept away
From Carrock muffled white with snow,
A bitter wind from over Forth
Brought news of rebels from the north.

The sun on Carlisle's walls may shine,
'Tis set for hearts of loyal blood,
For brave Prince Charlie quaffs the wine
Where for his king stout Dacre stood,
And Carlisle's burgher sons must flee,
Or sing " neck-verse " at Harrabee.

Oh! better had the ship that sailed
With those seven rebels drunk the seas,
And better had the pibroch wailed
For Death to dance in Hebrides,
Than that old Carlisle's walls should ring
With shouts of " Bonnie Charlie's King. "

But one is in the castleyard
Who hears no screel of pipe nor song,
He paces moody 'twixt his guard,
And deems the night is all too long.
This night, God knows, his good wife lies
In her first mother's agonies.

Quoth Dacre: — " By our Lady, sire,
Whose rose adorns old Halton's gate,
Grant me a boon! — my heart's desire —
My lady lies disconsolate,
And is it meet when babes are born
The mother should be left forlorn? "

Prince Charlie laughed a laugh and said,
" Let ring-doves coo, but men of war
Who wear the bonnet and the plaid
Leave dreams of wives and babes afar;
When James the Third has won his claim
Shall Dacre go to tend his dame! "

Morn broke — and Criffel o'er the flood
Frowned upon Skiddaw, veiled in cloud,
The eastern heavens were wet with blood,
And Crossfell's fiends were howling loud,
By Dalston tower, with never a gleam
Of light, ran dreary Caldew's stream.

All night the country-side had seen
The blaze in heaven of farmyard fires,
The geese are gathered from the green,
The sheep are folded in the byres,
And doors of church and pele are barred,
For Cumbria's yoeman-sons die hard.

A cry! the rebels come! they come
With bonnets blue and bare of knee,
But with no sound of pipe nor drum,
Pride of Glenfinnan's chivalry,
And at their head with naked blade
Rides one who wears the white cockade.

" Now Dalston loons, " Macdonald cries,
" We have no quarrel, friends, with you,
But tell us where Rose Castle lies,
And at your peril tell us true.
Your Baron Bishop in his hold,
He dines from silver, drinks from gold.

" Your Bishop's horses fill the stall,
He has good store of buckled shoon,
We scarce for lack of such can crawl
Your English roads to pibroch tune —
No man need fear, no maid need flee,
But shod our Highland lads must be.

" Nor dread for your great lord, we care
For those our God anoints, too much,
We will not hurt a single hair,
His books and " shaws " we will not touch;
Yea, if the Rosemary were out,
We would not pluck a single sprout. "

Then spake a voice, thick doors behind,
" The time for Rosemary is past,
But if you chance a spring to find,
Unharmed by this November blast,
Swear you will come as now you go,
And I the way to Rose will show. "

" Ay! that will I right gladly swear,
For Rosemary is out of time,
And Rosemary or not, no hair
Shall cry for vengeance on our crime;
But horse and shoon we needs must take
All for the Lord's anointed sake. "

Then through the fields, Macdonald's men
Moved merry with their yeoman guide;
They had no thought of Athol's glen
When Caldew glittered at their side,
And soon beneath its sheltering wood
The " Castle Rose " before them stood.

Flanked by the tower that Strickland planned,
High lifted o'er its terraced moat,
Macdonald bade his trooper band,
Its simple strength and beauty note,
And paused their captain's word to wait.
Then challengeless they passed the gate,

Macdonald's broadsword on the door
Made noise, the rookery rose in air,
Came hurried steps across the floor,
And voices whispered from the stair:
" God's mercy! " cried the serving man,
And backward to the Hall he ran.

Then grave, but white with wild alarm,
An aged serving maid stepped out,
" Ye cannot mean a woman harm,
My lady must not hear this rout,
She is delivered in this hour
Of babe that is of babes the flower!

" Keep silence friends and follow me,
The roast is ready in the Hall,
There eat and drink and welcome be,
But let her hear no foot to fall,
For if she may not sleep to-day,
Her gentle life will pass away. "

Back at her prayer the troopers fell,
They saw the working of her face,
They too had served a master well,
They too held faithfulness in grace,
Leaned on their swords, no word they spoke,
And thus her voice the stillness broke.

" But if your heart no mother's woes
Can reach, respect the rites divine,
E'en now the service forward goes,
Within our castle's ancient shrine,
The prayer is said, the name is given,
That God will ratify in Heaven. "

" Fear not, fear not, " Macdonald said,
" I have a wife and bairnies three,
What will they call your little maid? "
" Good sire, they name her Rosemarie:
Mary the Rose without a thorn,
From her they call the babe new born. "

Then round Macdonald turned, " I swore
If Rosemary were but in bloom,
I would not burst the castle door,
Nor let my gallants sack a room!
Here, nurse! go, take my white cockade,
And pin it on the little maid;

" And say we will in silence wait,
The while the christening prayer goes on,
Then under yon rose-scutcheoned gate
We will as silently be gone —
That white cockade shall be a dower,
More sure to guard than moat or tower.

" For if our troopers come this way,
And yon cockade and babe be shown,
They shall not dare to rob or slay,
While brave Prince Charlie seeks his own.
God speed his cause, and long life be
To " Castle Rose" and Rosemarie! " English