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\ ‘Dom, \,‘VIlCl'€ he found a lady, newly delivered of an l -,nfa‘-‘L III: was commanded by his attendants to say \ Sucg‘ P,-Jyers by her bed-side as were fitting for a per\ son not expected to survive a mortal disorder. lle venl tut-ed I.0 remonstrate, and observe that her safe delivery warranted better hopes. But he was merrily commanded to obey the orders first given, and with difficuhy recollccted himself sufficiently to acquit himself of the task imposed on him. He was then again hurfled into the chair; but, as they conducted him down stairs, he heard the report of a pistol. He was safely conducted home; it purse of gold was forced upon him; but. he was warned, at the same time, that the least allusion to this dark transaction would cost him his life.
lie hetook himself to rest, and, after long and broken musing’ fell into a deep sleep. From this he was awakened by his servant, with the dismal news, that a
fin; of uncommon fury had broken out in the house of '"', near the head of the (Janongate, and that it was totally consumed; Will: the shocking addition, that the daughter of the proprietor, a young lady eminent for beauty and accomplishments, had perished in the flames.
l The clergyman had his suspicions, but to have made
i them public Would have availed nothing. He was ti
‘ mid; the family was of the first distinction; above all, the deed was done, and could not be amended. Time wore away, however, and with it his terrors. He became unhappy at being the solitary depositary of this fearful mystery, and mentioned it to some of his brethren, through whom the anecdote acquired a sort of publicity. The divine, however, had been long dead, and
the story in some degree forgotten, when a fire broke
out again on the very same spot where the house of “"
had formerly stood, and which was now occupied by buildings of an inferior description. When the flames
were at their height, the tumult, which usually attends
such a. scene, was suddenly suspended by an unexpected apparition. A beautiful female, in a night
drcss, extremely rich, but at least half a century old, appeared in the very midst of the fire, and uttered
these tremendous words in her vernacular idiom: tt Arte: burned; twice burned; the third time I'll scare
you all!» The belief in this story was formerly so
' strong, that on a fire breaking out, and scctning to approach the fatal spot, there was a good deal of anxiety testified lest the apparition should make good her do
Such an exliortation was, in similar circumstances, actually given to his followers by a Welch chieftain :
tt Enmity did continue hetweene Howell ap Ry: ap Howell Vaughan and the sonnes of John up Meredith. After the death of Evan ap Robert, Griffith ap Gronw (cozen-gerrnan to John up Meredith's sonnes of Gwynfryn, who had long served in France and had charge there), comeing home to live in the countrey, it happened that a servant of his, comeing to fish in Stymllyn, his fish was taken away, and the fellow beaten by Howell ap Rys his servants, and by his commandment. Griffith ap John ap Gronw took the matter in such dudgeon that he challenged Howell ap Ilys to the field, which he refusing, assembling his cosins John ap Meredith's sonnes and his friends together, assaulted
scene in the French warres, and consumed with fire his barnes and his out houses. Whilst he was thus assaulting the hall, which Howell ap Rys and many other people kept, being a very strong house, he was shot out of a crevice ofithe house, through the 8513111 Of his beaver into the head, and slayne out-right, being otherwise armed at all points. Notwithstanding his death, the assault of the house was continued with great vehernence, the doores fired with great burthens of straw; besides this, the smoake of the out-houses and barnes not farre distant annoyed greatly the defendants, for that most of them lay under boordes and benches upon the floore, in the hall, the better to avoyd the smoake. During this scene of confusion onely the old man, llowell ap Itys, never stooped, but stood valiantly in the middest of the tloore, armed with a glove in his hand, and called into them, and bid ‘them arise like men, for shame, for he had knowne there as greate a smoke in that hall upon Christmas evcn.' In the end, seeing the house could no longer defend them, being ovcrlayed with a multitude, upon parley betweene them, Howell ap Bys was content to yeald himself prisoner to Morris ap John ap Meredith, John ap Meredith's eldest sonne, soe as he would swear unto him to bring him safe to Carnarvon Castle, to abide the triall of the law for the death of Graff ap John ap Gronw, who was cosen-german removed to the said Howell ap Rys, and
of the very same house he was of. Which Morris
ap John ap Meredith undertaking, did put a guard
about the said Howell of his trustiest friends and ser
vants, who kept and defended him from the rage of his
kindred, and especially of Owen ap John ap Meredith,
his brother, who was very eager against him. They
passed by leisure thence like in camps to Carnarvon;
the whole countrie being assembled, Howell his friends
posted a horseback from one place or other by the
way, who brought word that he was come thither safe,
for they were in great fear lest he should be murthered,
and that Morris ap John ap Meredith could not be able
to defend him, neither durst any of Howell's friends be
there, for fear of the kindred. In the end, being deli
vered by Morris ap John ap Meredith to the constable of Carnarvon Castle, and there kept safely in ward
until the assises, it fell out by law that the burning of Howells houses, and assaulting him in his owne house,
was a more haynous offence in Morris ap John ap
llleredilh and the rest, than the death of Graff ap John
ap Gronw in Howell, who did it in his own defence:
whereupon Morris ap John ap Meredith, with thirty-five more, were indicted of felony, as appeareth by the copie of the indictment,which I had from the records.»
-—Sir Joan \Vrmut's History of the Gwydir Family, Lond. t77o, Svo, p. n6.
end to the quarrel for the present, but could not effect
an entire reconciliation. They promised him, however, that till the sermon was over they would make no more disturbance. He then went again into the pulpit, and spent the rest of the time in endeavouring to make them ashamed of what they had done. His behaviour and discourse affected them so much, that, at his farther entreaty, they promised to forbear all acts of hostility while he continued in the country. And so much respected was he among them, that whoever was in fear of his enemy used to resort where Mr Gilpin was, esteeming his presence the best protection.
u One Sunday morning, coming to a church in those parts before the people were assembled, he observed a glove hanging up, and was informed by the sexton that it was meant as a challenge to any one who should take it down. Mr Gilpin ordered the sexton to reach it him; but upon his utterly refusing to touch it, he took it down himself, and put it in his breast. When the people were assembled, he went into the pulpit, and, before he concluded his sermon, took occasion to rebuke them severely for these inhuman challenges. ‘I hear,‘ saith he, ‘ that one among you hath hanged up a glove, even in this sacred place, threatening to fight any one who taketh it down: see, I have taken it down ;' and, pulling out the glove, he held it up to the congregation, and then showed them how unsuitable such savage practices were to the profession of Christianity, using such persuasives to mutual love as he thought would most affect them.»—Life of Bernard Gilpin, Lond. 1753, 8_vo, p. 177.
Note 2. Stanza xxxii. A horseman orm'd, at headlong speed.
This and what follows is taken from a real achievement of Major Robert Philipson, called, from his desperate and adventurous courage, Robin the Devil; which, as being very inaccurately noticed in this note upon the first edition, shall be now given in a more an
Awed, however, by the sacredness of the
thentic form. The chief place of his retreat was not Lord's Island in Derwentwatcr, but Curwcn's Island in the Lake of Windermere :
\t This island formerly belonged to the Philipsons, a family of note in Westmoreland. During the civil wars, two of them, an elder and a younger brother, served the king. The former, who was the proprietor of it, commanded a regiment; the latter was a major.
n The major, whose name was Robert, was at man of great spirit and enterprise; and for his many feats of personal bravery had obtained, among the Oliverians of those parts, the appellation of Robin the Devil.
u After the war had subsided, and the direful effects of public opposition had ceased, revenge and malice long kept alive the animosity of individuals. Colonel Briggs, a steady friend to usurpation, resided at this time at Kendal, and, under the double character of a leading magistrate (for he was a justice of peace) and an active commander, held the country in awe. This person, having heard that Major Philipson was at his brothers house on the island in Windermere, resolved, if possible, to seize and punish a man who had made himself so particularly obnoxious. How it was conducted, my authority! does not inform us—whether he got together the navigation of the lake, and blockadcd the place by sea, or whether he landed and carried on his approaches in form. Neither do we learn the strength of the garrison within, nor of the works without. All we learn is, that Major Philipson endured a siege of eight months with great gallantry, till his bro
ther, the colonel, raised a party, and relieved him. a It was now the majors turn to make reprisals.
put himself, therefore, at the head of a little troop of horse, and rode to Kendal. llerc, being informed that Colonel Briggs was at prayers (for it was on a Sunday morning), be stationed his men properly in the avenues. and himself, armed, rode directly into the church. lt probably was not a regular church, but some large place of meeting. It is said he intended to seize the colonel, and carry him off; but as this seems to have been totally impracticable, it is rather probable that his intention was to kill him on the spot, and in the midst of the confusion to‘ escape. Whatever his intention was, it was frustrated, for Briggs happened to he elsewhere.
u The congregation, as might be expected, was thrown into great confusion on seeing an armed man on horseback make his appearance among them; and the major, taking advantage of their astonishment, turned his horse round, and rode quietly out. But having given an alarm, he was presently assaulted as he left the assembly, and being seized, his girths were cut, and he was unhorsed. .
(1 At this instant his party made a furious attack on the assailants, and the major killed with his own hand the man who had seized him, clapped the saddle, ungirthed as it was, upon his horse, and vaulting into it, rode full speed through the streets of Kendal, calling his men to follow him; and with his whole party made a safe retreat to his asylum in the lake. The action marked the man. Many knew himt and they who did not, knew as well from the exploit that it could be nobody but Robin the Devil.»
' Dr Born’: hair 1 History of Westmoreland.
one start: of the 395125 :
It Warn, Maid of horn!» the minslrels sung,
As mid the tuneful choir to keep
The diapason of the deep.
Lull’d were the winds on Inninmore,
And ne'er to symphony more sweet
Each minst.rel’s tributary lay
Paid homage to the festal day.
Dull and dishonour'd were the bard,
Deaf to the hope of minstrel fame,
Or lady's smiles, his noblest aim,
Who on that mom's resistless call
Was silent in Artornish hall.
IN SIX CANTOS. l ADVERT[sEMENT_ Deem'st thou these sadden'd scenes have pleasure still’!
Autumn depart.s—from Gala's fields no more
l( Wake, Maid of Lorn !» 't was thus they sung, And yet more proud the descant rung,
at Wake, Maid of Lorn ! high right is ours, To charm dull sleep from Beauty's howers; Earth, ocean, air, have nought so shy
But owns the power of minstrelsy.
In Lettermore the timid deer
Will pause, the harp's wild chime to hear;
Will poise him on Ben-(.'ailliach's cloud ;
The summons of the minstrel train,
But, while our harps wild music make,
at O wake, while dawn, with dewy shine, Wakes Nature's charms to vie with thine! She bids the mottled thrush rejoice
To mate thy melody of voice;
The dew that on the violet lies
Mocks the dark lustre of thine eyes;
But, Edith, wake, and all we see ,
tt She comes not yet,» gray Ferrand cried: <1 Brethren, let softer spell be tried,
Those notes prolong’d, that soothing theme,
The hope she loves, yet fears to own.»-
More soft, more low, more tender fell
The lay of love he bade them tell.
As vainly had her maidens vied
In skill to deck the princely bride.
Iler locks, in dark-brown length array'd, Cathleen of Ulne, 't was thine to braid ; Young Eva with meet reverence drew
On the light foot the silken shoe,
While on the ancle's slender round
llut Einion, of experience old,
Had weightiest task—the mantle’s fold
In many an artful plait she tied,
To show the form it seem'd to hide,
Till on the floor descending roll’d
Its waves of crimson, blent with gold.
O! lives there now so cold a maid,
Who thus in l)eauty's pomp array'd,
In beanty's proudest pitch of power,
And conquest won—-the bridal hour—
Could yet the fair reflection view, n
And not one dimple on her cheek
A tell-tale consciousness bespealt!
Lives still such maid?--Fair damsels, say,
Save that such lived in Britain's isle,
But Morag, to whose fostering care
Proud Lorn had given his daughter fair,
By all a da_ughter's love repaid,
(Strict was that hond—most kind of alllnviolate in Highland hall—)
Gray Morag sate a space apart
In Edith‘s eyes to read her heart.
In vain the attendants’ fond appeal
To Morag's skill, to Morag's zeal;
She mark’d her child receive their care,
(Form of some sainted patroness)
Which cloister'd maids combine to dress;
Wistful awhile she gazed—-then press'd
ln finish'd loveliness-—and led
To where a turret’s airy head,
Slender and steep, and battled round, 0’erlook’d, dark Mull! thy mighty sound, (3) Where thwarting tides, with mingled roar, Part thy swarth hills from Morven's shore.
44 Daughter,» she said, it these seas behold,
Or main-land turn, where many a tower
Each on its own dark cape reclined,
To sadden this auspicious morn,
That bids the daughter of high Lorn
The Heir of mighty Somerled; (6)
The fair, the valiant, and the young,
On equal terms with England's pride.—-
The shepherd lights his beltane fire,
Loud shouts each hardy galla-glass,
No mountain den holds outcast boor,
But he hath flung his task aside,
And claim'd this morn for holy_-tide;
Edith is sad while all are gay.»
Proud Edith’s soul came to her eye,
The burning tears of injured pride-—
K Morag, forhearl or lend thy praise
Of pealing hell and bugle-horn,
Or, theme more dear, of robes of price,
But thou, experienced as thou art,
In these brief words—IIe loves her not!
a Debate it not—too longl strove
To call his cold observance love,
All blinded by the league that styled
She tripp'd the heath by l\rIorag’s side,-
His broadsword blazed in Scotland's war,
—uI"Iush, daughter, hush! thy doubts remove, More uobly think of Ronald's love.
Look, where beneath the castle gray
His fleet unmoor from Aros-hay‘. -
As on the yards the sails ascend‘!
Iliding the dark-blue land they rise,
Like to the white clouds on April skies;
As if she vail’d its banner'd pride,
To greet afar her prince's bride!
Thy Ronald comes, and while in speed
He chides her sloth '.»—Fair Edith sigh'd,
it Sweet thought, but vain l—No, Morag! mark, Type of his course, you lonely bark,
That oft hath shifted helm and sail,
To win its way against the gale.
Since peep of morn, my vacant eyes
Have view'd by fits the course she tries;
And though the weary crew may see
Our sheltering haven on their lee,
Still closer to the rising wind
They strive hcr shivering sail to bind,
Still nearer to the shelv$' dread verge
At every tack her course they urge,
As if they fear'd Artornish more
Than adverse winds and breakers‘ roar.»