Classic Poem

SCENE VIII — The Market-Cross of a Village, ten or twelve miles east from Wold. The Loyal Harper's head is seen upon a pole, fast by the Cross

R ACHEL sits below on the ground .

Enter Sir L IONEL C HAYR disguised .

C HAYR . Look up to me, young maiden, 'tis my turn
To help you if I can: I'm here to do it.
R ACH . Sir Lionel Chayr?
C HAYR . Ay. To this neighbourhood
Business of moment drew me, and some hours
Will keep me here. The Loyal Harper's end,
Ta'en by the foe and butchered in cold blood,
I learned it all, and your so faithful watch.
In haste I seek you thus: how can I help you?
R ACH . All night I've sat here underneath his head,
Keeping away from him the birds of air,
And cruel thingSirreverent. The dawn
Must be i' the east. All's quiet here ( rising ). No one
Is near us now. Spring up, if you would help me:
Mark for a moment the majestic frown
Of his high face upon rebellious England:
Then bring me down his head, that I may take
And bury it by my mother.

I do thank you
C HAYR . How will you get it hence?
R ACH . Leave that to me.
God's grace be with you!
C HAYR . No man has the power
To take that head from her. Courage and wisdom,
Duty like hers is full of. She'll not fail.
And when she comes to her own mountain-springs,
She'll wash that bloody face, and wipe it with
The hairs of her head.