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tyme to come we shulde be reproached that in so hygh an enterprise as we be in, wherein there be so many noble knyghtes and squyers assembled, that we shulde do any thyng be enchauntinent, nor that we shulde wyn our enemys by suche crafte. Than he called to hym a servaunt, and sayd, go and get a hangman, and let hym stryke off this mayster's heed without delay; and as some as the Erle had commanded it, incontynent it was done, for his heed was stryken of before the Erle's tent.” Froissart, Vol. I. ch. 391, 392. The art of glamour, or other fascination, was anciently a principal part of the skill of the jongleur, or juggler, whose tricks formed much of the amusement of a Gothic castle. Some instances of this art may be found in the Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, Vol. III. p. 119. In a strange allegorical poem, called the Houlat, written by a dependant of the house of Douglas, about 1452-3, the jay, in an assembly of birds, plays the part of the juggler. His feats of glamour are thus described: : + , He gart them see, as it semyt, in samyn houre, Hunting at herdis in holtis so hair; Soune sailand on the see schippis of toure, Bernis battaland on burd brim as a bare; He coulde carye the coup of the kingis des, Syne leve in the stede, Bot a black bunwede ; He could of a hemis hede, Make a man mes.

He gart the Emproure trow, and trewlye behald
That the corncraik, the pundare at hand,
Had poyndit all his pris hors in a poynd fald,
Because thai ete of the corn in the kirkland.
He could wirk windaris, quhat way that he wald;
Mak a gray gus a gold garland,
A lang spere of a bittile for a berne bald,
Nobilis of nutschelles, and silver of sand.

Thus joukit with juxters the janglanejo
Fair ladyes in ringis,
Knychtis in caralyngis,
Bayth dansis and singis,
It semyt assa.

- Note IV.

Now if you ask who gave the stroke,
I connot tell, so mot I thrive;
It was not given by man alive.—P. 50.

Er. Henry More, in a letter prefixed to Glanville's Saducismus Triumphatus, mentions a similar phenomeooth,

I remember an old gentleman in the country, of my acquaintance, an excellent Justice of Peace, and a piece of a mathematician; but what kind of a philosopher he was, you may understand from a rhyme of his own making, which he commended to meat my taking horse in his yard, which rhyme is this:

Ens is nothing till sense finds out:
Sense ends in nothing, so naught goes about.

Which rhyme of his was so rapturous to himself, that, on the reciting of the second verse, the old man turned himself about upon his toe as nimbly as one may observe a dry leaf whisked round in the corner of an or. elaard-walk by some little whirlwind. With this philosopher I have had many discourses concerning the immortality of the soul and its distinction; when I have run him quite down by reason, he would but laugh at me, and say, this is logic, H. (calling me by my Christian name;) to which I replyed, this is reason, father L. (for I used and some others to call him;) but it seems you are for the new lights, and immediate inspiration, which I confess he was as little for as for the other; but I said so only in way of drollery to him in those times, but truth is, nothing but palpable experience would move him; and being a bold man, and fearing nothing, he told me that he had used all the magical ceremonies of conjuration he could, to raise the devil or a spirit, and had a most earnest desire to meet with one, but never could do it. But this he told me, when he did not so much as think of it, while his servant was pulling off his boots in the hall, some invisible hand gave him such a clap upon the back, that it made all ring again; so, thought he now, I am invited to the converse of my spirit, and therefore, so soon as his boots were off, and his shoes on, out he goes into the yard and next field, to find out the spirit that had given him this familiar clap on the back, but found none neither in the yard nor field next to it. * “But though he did feel this stroke, albeit he thought it afterwards (finding nothing came of it) a mere delusion; yet, not long before his death, it had more force with him than all the philosophical arguments I could use to him, though I could wind him and non-plus him as I pleased; but yet all my arguments, how solid soever, made no impression upon him ; wherefore, after several reasonings of this nature, whereby I would prove to him the soul's distinction from the body, and its immortality, when nothing of such subtile considerations did any more execution on his mind than some lightning is said to do, though it melts the sword, on the fuzzy consistency of the scabbard, Well, said I, father L. though none of these things move you, I have something still behind, and what yourself has acknowledged to me to be true, that may do the business :Do you remember the clap on your back when your servant was pulling off your boots in the hall Assure yourself, said I, father. L. that goblin will be the first that will bid you welcome into the other world. Upon that his countenance changed most sensibly, and he was more confounded with this rubbing up his memory than with all the rational or philosophical argumentations that I could produce.”

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NOTE. W.
The running stream dissolved the spell.—P. 5.1.

It is a firm article of popular faith, that no enchantment can subsist in a living stream. Nay, if you can interpose a brook betwixt you and witches, spectres, or even fiends, you are in perfect safety. Burns's inimitable Tam o'Shanter turns entirely upon such a circumstance. The belief seems to be of antiquity. Brompton informs us, that certain Irish wizards could, by spells, convertearthen clods, or stones, into fat pigs, which they sold in the market; but which always reassumed their properform, when driven by the deceived purchaser across a running stream. But Brompton is severe on the Irish, for a very good reason. “Gens ista spurcissima non solvunt decimas.”-Chronicon Jo#annis Brompton apud decem Scriptores, p. 1076.

Note Wi.

His buckler scaree in breadth a span,
No longer fence had he 3

He never counted him a man,
Would strike below the knce,—P. 53.

Imitated from Drayton's account of Robin Hood and
his followers:
A hundred valiant men had this brave Robin Hood,
Still ready at his call, that bowmen were right good;
All clad in lincoln green, with caps of red and blue,
His fellow's winded horn not one of them but knew.
When setting to their lips their bugle shrill,
The warbling echoes waked from every dale and hill;
Their bauldrics set with studs athwart their shoulders
cast,
To which, under their arms, their sheafs were buckled
fast,
A short sword at their belt, a buckler scarce a span,
Who struck below the knee not counted then a man.

i

All made of Spanish yew, their bows were wondrons strong,

They not an arrow drew, but was a clothyard long.
Of archery they had the very perfect craft,
With broad arrow, or but, or prick, or roving shaft,

To wound an antagonist in the thigh, or leg, was reckoned contrary to the law of arms. In a tilt betwixt Gawain Michael, an English squire, and Joachim Cathore, a Frenchman, “they met at the speare poyntes rudely : the French squyer justed right pleasantly; the Englyshman ran too lowe, for he strak the Frenchman depe into the thygh. Wherwith the Erle of Buckingham was right sore displeased, and so were all the other lordes, and sayde how it was shamefully done.” Froissart, vol. i. ch. 366,-Upon a similar occasion “the two knights came a fote eche against other rudely, with their speares low couched, to stryke eche other within the foure quarters. Johan of Castel Morante strake the Englysh squyer on the brest in such wyse that Sir Wyllyam Fermetone stombled and bowed, for his fote a lyttel fayled him. He helde his speare lowe with both his handes, and coude natamende it, and strake Sir Johan of the Castell-Morante in the thighe, so that the speare went clene throughe, that the heed was sene a handfull on the othersyde. And Syre Johan with the stroke reled, but he fell nat. Then the Engłyshe knyghtes and squyers were ryghtesore displeased, and sayde how it was a soule stroke. Syr Wyllyam Fermetone excused himselfe, and sayde how he was sorie of that adventure, and howe that yf he had knowen that it shulde have bene so, he wolde never have begon it; sayenge how he coude natamende it, by cause of glaunsing of his fote by constraynt of the great stroke that Syr Johan of the Castell-Morante had given him.” Ibid.

ch, 373. NoTE VII.

And with a charm she stanched the blood.-P. 56.

See several charms for this purpose in Reginafd Scott's Discovery of Witchcraft, p. 273.

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