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46<br />

BOLTON ABBEY.<br />

The original situation of the Priorywas at Embsay,<br />

where it was founded in the year ii2i,by William de<br />

Meschines and his wife Cecily as a Priory of Canons<br />

of the Order of St. Augustine. After an existence of<br />

thirty-three years at Embsay, the Priory is said to have<br />

been transferred to the present locality, and numerous<br />

reasons are given for the change. The chief and most<br />

generally credited is that contained in the following<br />

account: —<br />

On the death of the founders an only daughter, Alice,<br />

was left, who adopted her mother's name of Romelli.<br />

This lady married William Fitz Duncan, nephew of<br />

David, King of Scotland, by whom he was established,<br />

" by force ofarms," in the honour of Skipton and Crafra<br />

(Craven) in the year 1152. A son was the issue of this<br />

marriage,who bore the name of the Boy of Egremond,<br />

and who was much adored by his mother. Tradition<br />

says that this boy was drowned in attempting to jump<br />

over the Strid,a narrow part of the river Wharfe, with a<br />

greyhound in leash. The dog did not bound over with<br />

his master,but held back, and the consequence was that<br />

the youth was thrown into the torrent. The accident<br />

was witnessed by a forester, who immediately proceeded<br />

to the boy's mother, andin sorrowful tones asked, " What<br />

is good for a bootless bene ?" which curious question was<br />

at once understood by Romelli, who replied, " Endless<br />

sorrow," and she is said to have been thrown into the<br />

utmost grief by the sad occurrence. The accident has<br />

given originto some verses by the poet Rogers,which are<br />

worthyof reproduction. We quote fromthem asfollows: —<br />

" Say what remains when hope is fled ? "<br />

She answered, " Endless weeping!"<br />

For in the herdsman's eye she read<br />

Who in his shroud was sleeping.<br />

At Embsay rung the matinbell,<br />

The stag was roused in Barden-fell;<br />

The mingled sounds were swelling, dying,<br />

And down the Wharf ahern was flying;

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