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LORD WILLIAM. Reluctant now, as night came on,
llis lonely couch he prest;
No eye beheld when William plunged And wearied out, he sunk to sleep,-
Young Edmund in the stream, To sleep—but not to rest.
No human ear but William's heard
Young Edmund's drowning scream. Beside that couch his brother's form,
Lord Edmund seem'd to stand,
Submissive all the vassals own'd * - * * Such and so pale as when in death
The murderer for their Lord, ... " r Ile trasp'd his brother's hand;
And he as rightful heir possess'd - -
The house of Erlingford. - Such and so pale his face as when,
With faint and faultering tongue,
The ancient house of Erlingford - * To William's care, a dying charge,

Stood in a fair domaia,
And Severn's ample waters near
Roll'd through the fertile plain.

And often the way-faring man
Would love to linger there,

Forgetful of his onward road,
To gaze on scenes so fair.

But never could Lord William dare
To gaze on Severn's stream ;

In every wind that swept its waves
He heard young Edmund scream.

In vain at midnight's silent hour
Sleep closed the murderer's eyes,

In every dream the murderer saw
Young Edmund's form arise.

In vain by restless conscience driven
Lord William left his home,

Far from the scenes that saw his guilt,
In pilgrimage to roam.

To other climes the pilgrim sled,
But could not fly despair;

He sought his home again, but peace
Was still a stranger there.

Slow were all passing hours, yet swift
The months appear d to roll;

And now the day return'd that shook
With terror William's soul.

A day that William never felt
Return without dismay,

For well had conscience kalendard
Young Edmund's dying day.

A fearful day was that! the rains
Fell fast with tempest roar,

And the swoln tide of Severn spread
Far on the level shore.

In vain Lord William sought the feast,
In vain he quaff d the bowl,

And strove with noisy mirth to drown
The anguish of his soul;

The tempest, as its sudden swell
In Gusty howlings came,

With cold and death-like feelings seem'd
To thrill his sliuddering frame.

Ile left his orphan son.

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“ There 's one who like a Christian lies Beneath the church-tree's shade;

I'd rather go a long mile round

Than pass at evening through the ground Wherein that man is laid.

• There's one who in the church-yard lies For whom the bell did toll;

He lies in consecrated ground,

But for all the wealth in Bristol town
I would not be with his soul!

« Didst see a house below the hill Which the winds and the rains destroy

T was then a farm where he did dwell,

And I remember it full well
When I was a growing boy.

“And she was a poor parish girl Who came up from the west :

From service hard she ran away,

And at that house in evil day
Was taken in to rest.

« The man he was a wicked man, And an evil life he led ;

Rage made his face grow deadly white,

And his grey eyes were large and light, And in anger they grew red

* The man was bad, the mother worse, Bad fruit of evil stem;

T would make your hair to stand on end

If I should tell to you, my friend,
The things that were told of them

• Didst see an out-house standing by The walls alone remain;

It was a stable then, but now

Its mossy roof has fallen through
All rotted by the rain.

« The poor girl she had served with them Some half-a-year or more,

When she was found hung up one day,

Stiff as a corpse and cold as clay,
Behind that stable door!

• It is a wild and lonesome place, No hut or house is near;

Should one meet a murderer there alone

T were vain to scream, and the dying groan Would never reach mortal car.

“And there were strange reports about; But still the Coroner found

That she by her own hand had died,

And should buried be by the way-side, And not in Christian ground.

* This was the very place he chose, Just where these four roads met ;

And I was one among the throng

That hither follow'd them along,
I shall never the sight forget !

• They carried her upon a board In the clothes in which she died;

I saw the cap blow off her head,

Her face was of a dark dark red,
Her eyes were starting wide :

* I think they could not have been closed, So widely did they strain.

I never saw a ghastlier sight,

And it often made me wake at night,
For I saw it in dreams again.

• They laid her here where four roads meet, Beneath this very place. The earth upon her corpse was prest, The stake is driven into her breast, And a stone is on her face.” 1798.

GOD'S JUDGMENT ON A BISHOP.

Here followeth the history of II stro, Archbichop of Mentz.

It hapned in the year 9, 4, that there was an exceeding great famine in Germany, at what time Otho surnamed the Great was Emperor, and one Hatto, once Abbot of Fulda, was Archbishop of Mentz, of the Bishops after Crescens and Crescentius the two and thirtieth, of the Archbishops after St Bonifacius the thirteenth.This Hatto in the time of this great famine afore-mentioned, when he saw the poor people of the country exceedingly oppressed with famine, assembled a great company of them together into a Barne, and, like a most accursed and mercilesse cailiffe, burnt up those poor innocent souls, that were so far from doubting any such matter, that they rather hoped to receive some comfort and relief at his hands. The reason that moved the prelat to commit that execrable impiety was, because he thought the famine would the sooner cease, if those unprotitable begijars that consumed more bread than they were worthy to eat, were dispatched out of the world. For he said that those poor folks were like to Mice, that were good for nothing but to devour corne. But God Almighty, the just avenger of the poor folks quarrel, did not long suffer this hainous tyranny, this most detestable fact, unpunished. For he mustered up an army of Mice against the Archbishop, and sent them to persecute him as his furious Alastors, so that they afflicted bin both day and night, and would not suffer him to take his rest in any place. Whereupon the Prelate thinkins; that he should be secure from the injury of Mice if he were in a certaine tower, that standeth in the Rhine near to the towne, betook himself unto the said tower as to a safe refuge and sanctuary from his enemies, and locked himself in. But the innumerable troupes of Alice chased him continually very eagerly, and swumme unto him upon the top of the water to execute the just judgment of God, and so at last he was most miserably devoured by those sillie creatures; who pursued him with such bitter hostility, that it is recorded they scraped and knawed out his very name from the walls and tapistry wherein it was written, after they had so cruelly devoured his body. Wherefore the tower wherein he was eaten up by the Mice is shown to this day, for a perpetual monument to all succeeding ages of the barbarous and inhuman tyranny of this impious Prelate, being situate in a little green Island in the midst of the Rhine near to the towne of Bing," and is commonly called in the German Tongue, the Mowse-runs.—Comrat's Cruditics p. 571, 572.

Other Authors who record this tale say that the Bishop was eaten by Rats.

The summer and autumn had been so wet,
That in winter the corn was growing yet,
"T was a piteous sight to see all around
The grain lie rotting on the ground.

Every day the starving poor
Crowded around Bishop Hatto's door,
For he had a plentiful last-year's store,
And all the neighbourhood could tell
His branaries were furnish'd well.

* Hodie Bingen.

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