<g>The King</g> took leave of Raglan Castle on the 15th of September, mournfully observing to the Marquess, that by so doing he hoped “to ease his lordship of a heavy burden.” His Majesty then thanked his noble and devoted host for the large sums of money which had been advanced to him in the course of his troubles. Whereupon the Marquess replied: “Sire, I had your word for the money; but I never thought to have been so soon repaid; for now that you have given me thanks, I have all I looked for.”[257] Well might the royal guest have expressed his feelings on quitting Raglan in the following lines, taken from his own ‘Collection:’--
I fall! I fall! Whom shall I call? Alas! can he be heard, Who now is neither loved nor feared? You, who were wont to kisse the ground, Where’er my honour’d steps were found, Come, catch me at my last rebound!
How each admires Heaven’s twinkling fires, When from their glorious seat Their influence gives life and heat! But, oh! how few there are-- Tho’ danger from that act be far-- Will stoop and catch a falling star.[258]
“Distracted with a thousand griefs, and accompanied by a few trusty and disconsolate servants, the royal victim wandered about the country, thankful to accept protection from any one who had fortune or inclination to minister to his distress. And many ‘cruel days’ to use his own words, were spent in weary marchings without food, narrow escapes, and precipitate retreats, before he took his last farewell of the land of Gwent.”[259]
On one occasion he was hotly pursued in his retreat through Shire Newton, by a party of sixty Roundheads; but reaching a place called Charleston Rock, near the New Passage, a fishing-boat was found, in which he was safely ferried over the Severn into Gloucestershire. His pursuers coming up in the meanwhile, but only to find their object defeated, seized upon the remaining boats, and with drawn swords compelled the fishermen to ferry them across. They hurried into the boats, and, with the royal fugitive still in view, made all haste to be once more on his traces. The poor fishermen, however, being royalists at heart, had no sympathy with these king-hunters; but rowing lustily towards a reef of rocks called the “English Stones,” within a gunshot of the Gloucester shore, there hauled in their oars; and landing their freight on the rocks, told them the water was so shallow that the boats could go no further, and they might easily wade to the opposite bank. And such, in fact, was quite practicable at low water; but, in the present instance, the tide flowed so rapidly, that in making the attempt to reach the opposite bank the whole party were drowned.