Hark to Rover

wiggy · Post by **wiggy** » Sun 19 Aug, 2007 11:01 pm

fluffysheep wrote: The poem:Who is she, the poor Maniac, whose wildly-fix'd eyesSeem a heart overcharged to express?She weeps not, yet often and deeply she sighs,She never complains, but her silence impliesThe composure of settled distress.No aid, no compassion the Maniac will seek,Cold and hunger awake not her care:Thro' her rags do the winds of the winter blow bleakOn her poor withered bosom half bare, and her cheekHas the deathy pale hue of despair.Yet chearful and happy, nor distant the day,Poor Mary the Maniac has been;The Traveller remembers who journeyed this wayNo damsel so lovely, no damsel so gayAs Mary the Maid of the Inn.Her chearful address fill'd the guests with delightAs she welcomed them in with a smile:Her heart was a stranger to childish affright,And Mary would walk by the Abbey at nightWhen the wind whistled down the dark aisle.She loved, and young Richard had settled the day,And she hoped to be happy for life;But Richard was idle and worthless, and theyWho knew him would pity poor Mary and sayThat she was too good for his wife.'Twas in autumn, and stormy and dark was the night,And fast were the windows and door;Two guests sat enjoying the fire that burnt bright,And smoking in silence with tranquil delightThey listen'd to hear the wind roar."Tis pleasant," cried one, "seated by the fire side"To hear the wind whistle without.""A fine night for the Abbey!" his comrade replied,"Methinks a man's courage would now be well tried"Who should wander the ruins about."I myself, like a school-boy, should tremble to hear"The hoarse ivy shake over my head;"And could fancy I saw, half persuaded by fear,"Some ugly old Abbot's white spirit appear,"For this wind might awaken the dead!""I'll wager a dinner," the other one cried,"That Mary would venture there now.""Then wager and lose!" with a sneer he replied,"I'll warrant she'd fancy a ghost by her side,"And faint if she saw a white cow.""Will Mary this charge on her courage allow?"His companion exclaim'd with a smile;"I shall win, for I know she will venture there now,"And earn a new bonnet by bringing a bough"From the elder that grows in the aisle."With fearless good humour did Mary comply,And her way to the Abbey she bent;The night it was dark, and the wind it was highAnd as hollowly howling it swept thro' the skyShe shiver'd with cold as she went.O'er the path so well known still proceeded the MaidWhere the Abbey rose dim on the sight,Thro' the gate-way she entered, she felt not afraidYet the ruins were lonely and wild, and their shadeSeem'd to deepen the gloom of the night.All around her was silent, save when the rude blastHowl'd dismally round the old pile;Over weed-cover'd fragments still fearless she past,And arrived in the innermost ruin at lastWhere the elder tree grew in the aisle.Well-pleas'd did she reach it, and quickly drew nearAnd hastily gather'd the bough:When the sound of a voice seem'd to rise on her ear,She paus'd, and she listen'd, all eager to hear,Aud her heart panted fearfully now.The wind blew, the hoarse ivy shook over her head,She listen'd,--nought else could she hear.The wind ceas'd, her heart sunk in her bosom with dreadFor she heard in the ruins distinctly the treadOf footsteps approaching her near.Behind a wide column half breathless with fearShe crept to conceal herself there:That instant the moon o'er a dark cloud shone clear,And she saw in the moon-light two ruffians appearAnd between them a corpse did they bear.Then Mary could feel her heart-blood curdle cold!Again the rough wind hurried by,--It blew off the hat of the one, and beholdEven close to the feet of poor Mary it roll'd,--She felt, and expected to die."Curse the hat!" he exclaims. "Nay come on and first hide"The dead body," his comrade replies.She beheld them in safety pass on by her side,She seizes the hat, fear her courage supplied,And fast thro' the Abbey she flies.She ran with wild speed, she rush'd in at the door,She gazed horribly eager around,Then her limbs could support their faint burthen no more,And exhausted and breathless she sunk on the floorUnable to utter a sound.Ere yet her pale lips could the story impart,For a moment the hat met her view;--Her eyes from that object convulsively start,For--oh God what cold horror then thrill'd thro' her heart,When the name of her Richard she knew!Where the old Abbey stands, on the common hard byHis gibbet is now to be seen.Not far from the road it engages the eye,The Traveller beholds it, and thinks with a sighOf poor Mary the Maid of the Inn. Robert Southey thats not a poem,its war and bloody peace!

stevief · Post by **stevief** » Tue 21 Aug, 2007 11:10 pm

farbank wrote: The Hark to Rover pub was one of those that were originally a row of shops. It was turned into a pub, by Northern brewery, Camerons.They also opened the one at Swinnow [Barnlea ?], at the same time.The brewery held a competition in the local evening press, to find names for the two new ventures. Using the name of the cottages close by, gave me my inspiration. And myself and another gent were the lucky winners of the Kirkstall part. We had a sumptuous evening provided by Camerons. It was at the Woodpecker Pub on York Rd.[re-built after the war.]. Drinks,eats, smokes and a bag of goodies all provided. We also received a gold card invitation to the Grand Opening. Where we were seated with the celebrity chosen to perform the ceremony. The late, great Freddie Trueman. Who was known to like a pint or three.! A great time and happy memories. During my dart playing days in the 70's I had occasion to visit both pubs within the same year and bizarrely they were decorated identically.It was an 'X Files' moment when we walked in!!

Calico · Post by **Calico** » Mon 21 Jan, 2008 12:19 am

Oh my gosh, the Hark to Rover ... I used to work there! That name brings back some memories!

thc · Post by **thc** » Sun 16 Mar, 2008 4:02 pm

I distinctly remember a pub called ''Hark to Rover''. It was opened by Cameron's brewery in 1963. It was near Bramley and could be seen from the right hand side of a Bradford [Exchange] bound train near to where the road went under the railway line and just before Bramley station.

fevlad · Post by **fevlad** » Sun 16 Mar, 2008 4:12 pm

tyke bhoy wrote: There is a "Hark to Flopsy" in Normanton hark to mopsy actuallyit relates to a gruesome murder

fevlad · Post by **fevlad** » Sun 16 Mar, 2008 4:15 pm

fevlad wrote: tyke bhoy wrote: There is a "Hark to Flopsy" in Normanton hark to mopsy actuallyit relates to a gruesome murder sorry fokks didn't realise it had been flagged up

R.P.C · Post by **R.P.C** » Tue 10 Jun, 2008 10:13 pm

i know the new landlord, apparently (dont knof if true or not) but in th cellar, there is a bricked up wall that leads from the abbey to the pub, it was an "escape route" for the monks...also the current wners have heard a dog barking in the distance that dosent sound exactly clear

BIG N · Post by **BIG N** » Wed 11 Jun, 2008 2:20 am

farbank wrote: The Hark to Rover pub was one of those that were originally a row of shops. It was turned into a pub, by Northern brewery, Camerons.They also opened the one at Swinnow [Barnlea ?], at the same time. Fern Lea is the one close to Swinnow mate - been closed and shuttered up for about 6 years now.

BLAKEY · Post by **BLAKEY** » Thu 12 Jun, 2008 12:26 am

thc wrote: I distinctly remember a pub called ''Hark to Rover''. It was opened by Cameron's brewery in 1963. It was near Bramley and could be seen from the right hand side of a Bradford [Exchange] bound train near to where the road went under the railway line and just before Bramley station. With respect Nick - wrong railway line, I think you mean a Harrogate bound train where the road goes under the bridge before Horsforth station ??