The Forest Republican. [volume] (Tionesta, Pa.) 1869-1952, 1888-08-01
EDWY OF TYNEDALE,
A STORY OF OLD ENGLAND.

STORY OF OLD ENGLAND.
1t was time and country of arms.
Nalor wa, the saint by whom all sworc,
and no death was feared save death on
the straw. And with valor ruled song.
When the clash OF swords was for a
moment stilled, minuesingcrs and min.
strels sang of the sweetness of love- are
not the tenderest blossoms of the year
those that are fostered by the snow.
drift
The Tower of Tynedale had had its
baptism of blood and consecrations OF
song more frequently, it may well be,
than any other castle within the same
horizon bounds, for it stood on disputed
ground. 1t was defiance IN stone flung
down by an early Tynedale and many q
time had the Branksome men da, he'd
themselves against it in vain assault.
Once, indeed, the portals had traitorously
yielded, and the banner of The hated
house of the assailants had taunted the
scattered Tyncdales from the battlements
of their own tower. That dishonor had
been wiped out in the desi crate courage
Of the recapturc, but its memory reused
to new life the old family feud, which
1t was the thought of that unforgotter
shame that made more lofty the bearing
of the lord Of Iynedale as he entered
the demesne TO which long absence
had made him well nigh stranger. Tho
gay laughter of his retainers, who found
it Joy enough to feel the shadow OF
Tynedale oaks once moro above them,
seemed to his ear but TO mufiie tho
angry mutter of defeated men. His
s:eed, responding to his unconscious
touch, bounded forward, and carried
him in advance of his ira n to the open.
ing in the forest that commanded d s.
tant view of the tower.
And there the suubeams that flashed
from spear head and sparkled from the
jeweled dresses of lady fair and gallant
knight and waiting esquire sank into
shadows amid the folds of the Brank.
some banner which Branksome hands
had flung ohce more from the battle
ments of Tynedale Tower. Dark aad
sullen hung the silken folds heavy with
shame. And dark grew the brow of the
lord of Tynedale, dark even as the
shadows of the forest, when that mes,
sage met his eye
An indifferent forester, to whom il
mattered little whether the flag of the
tower were gules or argent, told the briel
tale of the. days foray. An attack, 4
surprise, weak defence, few hours OF
desperate hand to- hand fighting withia
the old walls, and then the sunset with
its revelation; that was all.
The party campcd hastily.
eve are helpless said the old lord,
bitterly, within those walls a handful
may laugh at a host; without, handful
like this would be but dash of summer
raindrops on the stones. False stones,
they prote foe and friend alike"
TEen spoke Idwy, the heir of Tyndale
"My lord and father, an it please you,
| will enter the tower. My harp will bC
my passport for minstrel hath fres
warrant to hall and bower. Once
within, it will go hard but find means
to open the gates to our men ere the
morning.
The old lords eye flashed. He felt the
fever ofyouth throb in his veins for a mo,
ment; then it passed, but he bcheld his
own spirit kindling keen and high in the
dauntless youth who faced him,
go, my child The honor of Tyne.
dale is in your hands"
So it shortly came to pass that a gay
young minstrel boldly demanded adj
mittance for his harp and himself at the
gate where Edwy, of Tyneda'e, m ght
not pass for his life. A rude welcome
greeted him from the hall.
Enter, thou minstrel lad Such a
day as this hath merited night of song.
What ballads hast thou that are new ~
Ballads new and old in plenty to
pleasure the lords of Tynedale Tower y
answered Edwy calmly, resting his harp
near the board about which lounged the
dark men of Branksome, pledging their
victory in tankards of Tynedale ale. Al
his feet, trampled and stained, lay the
silken banner of his house, rudely torn
from the battlement. But no one saw
the fire that smouldered under Edwy's
lowered lids
"Sing, harper, and Oswald shall dance
the morrow"
Edwy had already noted the bound