And of a sew that was sea2 strang, Alas! that ever she lived sea lang, For fell folk did she whell.1 She was mare than other three, Her walk was endlong* Greta side; Ralph of Rokeby with good will, That rued him sine 13 full sare. With him took he wight men two, That ever was brim as beare;14 And well durst strike with sword and knife, These three men went at God's will, Liggan 16 under a tree; Rugg and rusty was her haire; She was so grisley for to meete, She rave the earth up with her feete, These men of aunters that was so wight, 19 Untill a kiln they garred her flee, They would ask him noa mare. The sew was in the kiln hole down, Durst noe man neigh her with his hand, A little fro the streete.25 And there she made them such a fray, 1 Rushed. He said, Alas, that I was frear! And I shall be rugged 12 in sunder here, Wist 13 my brethren in this boure, They would pray for me." This wicked beast that wrought this woe, The feild it was both lost and wonne; 15 He bad them stand out of her way, 2. Leave it. 16 3 Pulls. 4 This line is wanting in Mr Whitaker's copy, whence it has been conjectured that something is wanting after this stanza, which now there is no occasion to suppose. 5 Evil device. 8 Sheltered himself. 6 Blessed, Fr. 9 Fierce. 7 Lost his colour. 10 The MS. reads to labour weere. The text seems to mean that all their labour to obtain their intended meat was of no use to them. Mr Whitaker reads, She was as brim as any boar, And gave a grisly hideous roar, To them it was no boot. Besides the want of connexion between the last line and the two former, the second has a very modern sound, and the reading of the Rokeby MS. with the slight alteration in the text, is much better. 11 Mad. 12 Torn, pulled. 15 This stanza, with the two following, and the fragment of a fourth, are not in Mr Whitaker's edition. 16 The rope about the sow's neck. 17 Knew. When Fryer Middleton came home, "We gave him battell half a day, The warden said, I am full woe, Fryer Middleton said soon, «Nay, He look'd so griesly all that night, Yon guest hath grieved him so sare,. The warden waged 12 on the morne, The one was Gilbert Griffin's son, The other was a bastard son of Spain, His dint 13 hath gart them die. That they should boldly bide and fight, "We shall for you pray, sing, and read She made on them slike a rerd, 2 She came roveing them againe ; He braded out 3 his brand; She would have riven his privich geare, When the blade brake in throng.4 She strave so stiffly in that stower, Then Gilbert grieved was sea sare, And band her hame alone. And lift her on a horse sea hee, The fryers on that day. They thanked God and St Francis, Nor Loth of Louthayne.10 If ye will any more of this, In the fryars of Richmond 't is Iu parchment good and fine; And how Fryer Middleton that was so kend, " At Greta-bridge coujured a fiend In likeness of a swine. Note 4. Stanza x. The Filea of O'Neale was he. had at the fyrst to cause them to weare gownes of sylke, furred with myneuere and gray; for before these kynges thought themselfe well apparelled whan they had on a mantell. They rode always without saddles and styropes, and with great payne I made them to ride after our usage.»-LORD BERNERS' Froissart, Lond. 1812, 4to, II, 621. The influence of these hards upon their patrons, and their admitted title to interfere in matters of the weightiest concern, may be also proved from the behaviour of one of them at an interview between Thomas Fitzgerald, son of the Earl of Kildare, then about to renounce the English allegiance, and the Lord Chancellor Cromer, who made a long and goodly oration to dissuade him from his purpose. The young lord had come to the council «< armed and weaponed,» and attended by seven score horsemen in their shirts of mail; and we are assured that the chancellor, having set forth his oration « with such a lamentable action as his cheeks were all beblubbered with teares, the horsemen, namelie, such as understood not English, began to diuine what the lord-chancelor meant with all this long circumstance; some of them reporting that he was preaching a sermon, others said that he stood making of some heroicall poetry in the praise of the Lord Thomas. And thus as every ideot shot his foolish bolt at the wise chancellor his discourse, who in effect did nought else but drop pretious stones before hogs, one Bard de Nelan, an Irish rithmour, and a rotten sheepe to infect a whole flocke, was chatting of Irish verses, as though his toong had run on pattens, in commendation of the Lord Thomas, investing him with the title of Silken Thomas, bicause his horsemens jacks were gorgeously imbrodered with silke: and in the end he told him that he lingered there ouer long. Whereat the Lord Thomas being quickened,» as Hollinshed expresses it, bid defiance to the chancellor, threw down contemptuously the sword of office, which, in his father's absence, he held as deputy, and rushed forth to engage in open insurrection. The Filea, or Ollamh Re Dan, was the proper bard, or, as the name literally implies, poet. Each chieftain of distinction had one or more in his service, whose office was usually hereditary. The late ingenious Mr Cooper Walker has assembled a curious collection of particulars concerning this order of men in his Historical Memoirs of the Irish Bards. There were itinerant bards of less elevated rank, but all were held in the highest veneration. The English, who considered them as chief supporters of the spirit of national independence, were much disposed to proscribe this race of poets, as Edward I is said to have done in Wales. Spenser, while he admits the merit of their wild poetry, as « savouring of sweet wit and good invention, and sprinkled with some pretty flowers of their natural device,» yet rigorously condemns the whole application of their poetry, as abased to « the gracing of wickedness and vice.»> The household minstrel was admitted even to the feast of the prince whom he served, and sat at the same table. It was one of the customs of which Sir Richard Sewry, to whose charge Richard II committed the instruction of four Irish monarchs in the civilization of the period, found it most difficult to break his royal disciples, though he had also much ado to subject them to other English rules, and particularly to reconcile them to wear breeches. «The kyng, my souverigne lords entent was, that in maner, countenaunce, and apparell of clothyng, they sholde use according to the maner of Englande, for the kynge thought to make them all four knyghtes: they had a fayre house to lodge in, in Duvelyn, and I was charged to abyde styll with them, and not to departe; and so two or three dayes I suffered them to do as they lyst, and sayde nothyng to them, but folowed their owne appetytes; they wolde sytte at the table, and make countenance nother good nor fayre. Than I thought I shulde cause them to chaunge that maner; they wolde cause their mynstrells, their seruauntes, and varlettes to sytte with them, and to eate in their owne dyssche, and to drinke of their cuppes; and they shewed me that the usage of their countre was good, for they sayd in all thyngs (except their beddes) they were and lyved as So the fourthe day I ordayned other tables by the sept of the O'Neales, and Slieve-Donard a roto be couered in the hall, after the usage of Englande,mantic mountain in the same province. The clan was and I made these four kynges to sytte at the hyghe ruined after Tyrone's great rebellion, and their places table, and their mynstrels at another borde, and their of abode laid desolate. The ancient Irish, wild and unseruauntes and varlettes at another byneth them, cultivated in other respects, did not yield even to their whereof by semynge they were displeased, and beheld descendants in practising the most free and extended each other, and wolde not eate, and sayde, how I wolde hospitality, and doubtless the bards mourned the decay take fro them their good usage, wherein they had been norished. Then I answered them smylyng, to apeace them, that it was not honourable for their estates to do as they dyde before, and that they must leave it, and use the custom of Englande, and that it was the kynge's pleasure they shulde do so, and how he was charged so to order them. Whan they harde that, they suffred it, bycause they had putte themselfe under the obeysance of the kynge of Englande, and parceuered in the same as long as I was with them; yet they had one use which I knew was well used in their countre, and that was, they dyde were no breches; I caused breches of lynen clothe to be made for them. Whyle I was with them I caused them to leaue many rude thynges, as well in clothyng as in other causes. Moche ado I comen. Note 5. Stanza x. Ab, Clandeboy! thy friendly floor, Clandeboy is a district of Ulster, formerly possessed of the mansions of their chiefs, in strains similar to the Silent-breathing gale, long wilt thou be heard! Many a dog that scented well the prey, and aerial bawk, This hearth, ah, will it not be covered with nettles! More congenial to it was the foot of the needy petitioner. 1 HOLLINSHED, Lond. 1808, 4to, vol. VI, p. 291. This hearth, will it not be covered with toad-stools ! This hearth, will it not be overgrown with spreading brambles! This hearth, will it not be covered with thorns! More congenial on it would have been the mixed group This bearth, will it not be covered over with the ants! This hearth, will it not be covered with dock-leaves! This hearth, will it not be turned up by the swine! Heroic Elegies of Llywarch Hen, by Owen. The ball of Cynddylan is gloomy this night, I must weep awhile, and then be silent! The hall of Cynddylan is gloomy this night, Without fire, without candle Except God doth, who will endue me with patience? The hall of Cynddylan is gloomy this night, The ball of Cynddylan, gloomy seems its roof, Since the sweet smile of humanity is no more- The hall of Cynddylan, art thou not bereft of thy appearance! Whilst he lived there was no broken roof! The hall of Cynddylan is without love this night, Ah, death! it will be but a short time he will leave me! The hall of Cynddylan is not easy this night, Without its lord, without company, without the circling feasts! The hall of Cynddylan is gloomy this night, Tears afflict the cheeks! Note 7. Stanza xiv. Hawthornden. Drummond of Hawthornden was in the zenith of his reputation as a poet during the civil wars. He died in 1649. Note 8. Stanza xiv. Mac-Curtin's harp. Mac-Curtin, hereditary Ollamh of North Munster, and Filea to Donough, Earl of Thomond, and President of Munster. This nobleman was amongst those who were prevailed upon to join Elizabeth's forces. Soon as it was known that he had basely abandoned the interests of his country, Mac-Curtin presented an adulatory poem to Mac-Carthy, chief of South Munster, and of the Eugenian line, who, with O'Neil, O'Donnel, Lacy, and others, were deeply engaged in protecting their violated country. In this poem he dwells with rapture on the courage and patriotism of Mac-Carthy; but the verse that should (according to an established law of the order of the bards) be introduced in the praise of O'Brien, he turns into severe satire:-'How am I afflicted (says he), that the descendant of the great Brien Boiromh cannot furnish me with a theme worthy the honour and glory of his exalted race!' Lord Thomond, hearing this, vowed vengeance on the spirited bard, who fled for refuge to the county of Cork. One day, observing the exasperated nobleman and his equipage at a small distance, he thought it was in vain to fly, and pretended to be suddenly seized with the pangs of death; directing his wife to lament over him, and tell his lordship that the sight of him, by awakening the sense of his ingratitude, had so much affected him that he could not support it; and desired her at the same time to tell his lordship that he entreated, as a dying request, his forgiveness. Soon as Lord Thomond arrived, the feigned tale was related to him. The nobleman was moved to compassion, and not only declared that he most heartily forgave him, but, opening his purse, presented the fair mourner with some pieces to inter him. This instance of his lordship's pity and generosity gave courage to the trembling bard, who, suddenly springing up, recited an extemporaneous ode in praise of Donough, and re-entering into his service, became once more his favourite.»-WALKER'S Memoirs of the Irish Bards, Lond. 1786, 4to. p. 141. spreads over the adjoining hill; on the fourth, by meadows which are watered by the river Kennet. Close on one side of the house is a thick grove of lofty trees, along the verge of which runs one of the principal avenues to it through the park. It is an irregular building of great antiquity, and was probably erected about the time of the termination of feudal warfare, when defence came no longer to be an object in a country mansion. Many circumstances, however, in the interior of the house, seem appropriate to feudal times. The hall is very spacious, floored with stones, and lighted by large transom windows, that are clothed with casements. Its walls are hung with old military accoutrements, that have long been left a prey to rust. At one end of the hall is a range of coats of mail and helmets, and there is on every side abundance of old-fashioned pistols and guns, many of them with matchlocks. Immediately below the cornice hangs a row of leathern jerkins, made in the form of a shirt, supposed to have been worn as armour by the vassals. A large oak table, reaching nearly from one end of the room to the other, might have feasted the whole neighbourhood, and an appendage to one end of it made it answer at other times for the old game of shuffle-board. The rest of the furniture is in a suitable style, particularly an arm-chair of cumbrous workmanship, constructed of wood, curiously turned, with a high back and triangular seat, said to have been used by Judge Popham in the reign of Elizabeth. The entrance into the hall is at one end by a low door, communicating with a passage that leads from the outer door in the front of the house to a quadrangle1 within; at the other, it opens upon a gloomy staircase, by which you ascend to the first floor, and, passing the doors of some bed-chambers, enter a narrow gallery, which extends along the back front of the house from one end to the other of it, and looks upon an old garden. This gallery is hung with portraits, chiefly in the Spanish dresses of the sixteenth century. In one of the bedchambers, which you pass in going towards the gallery, is a bedstead with blue furniture, which time has now made dingy and threadbare, and in the bottom of one of the bed-curtains you are shown a place where a small piece has been cut out and sewn in again,—a circumstance which serves to identify the scene of the following story : man, were the lady on whose account she had been sent for, and a man of a haughty and ferocious aspect. The lady was delivered of a fine boy. Immediately the man commanded the midwife to give him the child, and catching it from her, he hurried across the room, and threw it on the back of the fire, that was blazing in the chimney. The child, however, was strong, and by its struggles rolled itself off upon the hearth, when the ruffian again seized it with fury, and, in spite of the intercession of the midwife, and the more piteous entreaties of the mother, thrust it under the grate, and, raking the live coals upon it, soon put an end to its life. The midwife, after spending some time in affording all the relief in her power to the wretched mother, was told that she must begone. Her former conductor appeared, who again bound her eyes, and conveyed her behind him to her own home: he then paid her handsomely, and departed. The midwife was strongly agitated by the horrors of the preceding night; and she immediately made a deposition of the facts before the magistrate. Two circumstances afforded hopes of detecting the house in which the crime had been committed; one was, that the midwife, as she sate by the bedside, had, with a view to discover the place, cut out a piece of the bed-curtain, and sewn it in again; the other was, that as she had descended the staircase, she had counted the steps. Some suspicions fell upon one Darrell, at that time the proprietor of Littlecot-house, and the domain around it. The house was examined, and identified by the midwife, and Darrell was tried at Salisbury for the murder. By corrupting his judge, he escaped the sentence of the law, but broke his neck by a fall from his horse in hunting, in a few months after. The place where this happened is still known by the name of Darrell's Stile,-a spot to be dreaded by the peasant whom the shades of evening have overtaken on his way. << Littlecot-house is two miles from Hungerford, in Berkshire, through which the Bath road passes. The fact occurred in the reign of Elizabeth. All the important circumstances I have given exactly as they are told in the country; some trifles only are added, either to render the whole connected, or to increase the impression.>> With this tale of terror the author has combined some circumstances of a similar legend, which was current at Edinburgh during his childhood. About the beginning of the eighteenth century, when the large castles of the Scottish nobles, and even the secluded hotels, like those of the French noblesse, which they possessed in Edinburgh, were sometimes the scenes of strange and mysterious transactions, a divine of sin << It was on a dark rainy night in the month of November, that an old midwife sate musing by her cottage fire-side, when on a sudden she was startled by a loud knocking at the door. On opening it she found a horsewho told her that her assistance was required immediately by a person of rank, and that she should be handsomely rewarded; but that there were reasons for keeping the affair a strict secret, and, therefore, shegular sanctity was called up at midnight, to pray with must submit to be blind-folded, and to be conducted in that condition to the bed-chamber of the lady. With some hesitation the midwife consented; the horseman bound her eyes, and placed her on a pillion behind him. After proceeding in silence for many miles, through rough and dirty lanes, they stopped, and the midwife was led into a house, which from the length of her walk through the apartments, as well as the sounds about her, she discovered to be the seat of wealth and power. When the bandage was removed from her eyes, she found herself in a bed-chamber, in which I think there is a chapel on one side of it, but am not quite sure. a person at the point of death. This was no unusual summons; but what followed was alarming. He was put into a sedan chair, and, after he had been transported to a remote part of the town, the bearers insisted upon his being blindfolded. The request was enforced by a cocked pistol, and submitted to; but in the course of the discussion he conjectured, from the phrases employed by the chairmen, and from some part of their dress, not completely concealed by their cloaks, that they were greatly above the menial station they had assumed. After many turns and windings, the chair was carried up stairs into a lodging, where his eyes were uncovered, and he was introduced into a bed |