ness of a shaven lawn and the complete desolation natural to a ruin might have made an unpleasing contrast; and, besides being within the precincts of the pleasure-grounds, and so very near to the dwelling of a noble family, it has forfeited, in some degree, its independent majesty, and becomes a tributary to the mansion: its solitude being interrupted, it has no longer the command over the mind in sending it back into past times, or excluding the ordinary feelings which we bear about us in daily life. We had then only to regret that the castle and the house were so near to each other; and it was impossible not to regret it; for the ruin presides in state over the river, far from city or town, as if it might have a peculiar privilege to preserve its memorials of past ages, and maintain its own character for centuries to come. We sat upon a bench under the high trees, and had beautiful views of the different reaches of the river, above and below. On the opposite bank, which is finely wooded with elm and other trees, are the remains of a priory built upon a rock; and rock and ruin are so blended, that it is impossible to separate the one from the other. Nothing can be more beautiful than the little remnant of this holy place; elm-trees (for we were near enough to distinguish them by their branches) grow out of the walls, and overshadow a small but very elegant window. It can scarcely be conceived what a grace the castle and priory impart to each other; and the river Clyde flows on, smooth and unruffled, below, seeming to my thoughts more in harmony with the sober and stately images of former times, than if it had roared over a rocky channel, forcing its sound upon the ear. It blended gently with the warbling of the smaller birds, and the chattering of the larger ones, that had made their nests in the ruins. In this fortress the chief of the English nobility were confined after the battle of Bannockburn. If a man is to be a prisoner, he scarcely could have a more pleasant place to solace his captivity; but I thought that, for close confinement, I should prefer the banks of a lake, or the sea-side. The greatest charm of a brook or river is in the liberty to pursue it through its windings: you can then take it in whatever mood you like; silent or noisy, sportive or quiet. The beauties of a brook or river must be sought, and the pleasure is in going in search of the:n; those of a lake or of the sea come to you of themselves. These rude warriors cared little, perhaps, about either; and yet, if one may judge from the writings of Chaucer, and from the old romances, more interesting passions were connected with natural objects in the days of chivalry than now; though going in search of scenery, as it is called, had not then been thought of. I had previously heard nothing of Bothwell Castle, at least nothing that I remembered; therefore, perhaps, my pleasure was greater, compared with what I received elsewhere, than others might feel."-MS. Journal. Page 293. "Hart's-horn Tree." "In the time of the first Robert de Clifford, in the year 1333 or 1334, Edward Baliol king of Scotland came into Westmoreland, and stayed some time with the said Robert at his castles of Appleby, Brougham, and Pendragon. And during that time they ran a stag by a single greyhound out of Whinfell Park to Redkirk, in Scotland, and back again to this place; where, being both spent, the stag leaped over the pales, but died on the other side; and the greyhound, attempting to leap, fell, and died on the contrary side. In memory of this fact the stag's horns were nailed upon a tree just by, and (the dog being named Hercules) this rhythm was made upon them: 'Hercules killed Hart a greese, And Hart a greese killed Hercules.' The tree to this day bears the name of Hart's-horn Tree. The horns in process of time were almost grown over by the growth of the tree, and another pair was put up in their place." Nicholson and Burns's History of Westmoreland and Cumberland. The tree has now disappeared, but I well remember its imposing appearance as it stood, in a decayed state, by the side of the high road leading from Penrith to Appleby. This whole neighborhood abounds in interesting traditions and vestiges of antiquity; viz. Julian's Bower; Brougham and Penrith Cas tles; Penrith Beacon, and the curious remains in Penrith Churchyard; Arthur's Round Table, and, close by, MayDrough; the excavation, called the Giant's Cave, on the bank of the Emont; Long Meg and her Daughters, near Eden, &., &c. END OF VOL. III i THE WHITE DOE OF RYLSTONE; OR, THE FATE OF THE NORTONS. ADVERTISEMENT. DURING the Summer of 1807, I visited, for the first time, the beautiful country that surrounds Bolton Priory, in York shire; and the Poem of the WHITE DOE, founded upon a tradition connected with that place, was composed at the close of the same year. DEDICATION. In trellised shed with clustering roses gay, How Una, sad of soul, in sad attire, The gentle Una, of celestial birth, To seek her Knight went wandering o'er the earth. Ah, then, Beloved! pleasing was the smart, And the tear precious in compassion shed For her, who, pierced by sorrow's thrilling dart Meek as that emblem of her lowly heart, The milk-white Lamb which in a line she led, - And faithful, loyal in her innocence, Like the brave Lion slain in her defence. Notes could we hear as of a faery snei Attuned to words with sacred wisdom fraught; Free Fancy prized each specious miracle, And all its finer inspiration caught: Till, in the bosom of our rustic Ceil, We by a lamentable change were taught That "bliss with mortal Man may not abide": For us the stream of fiction ceased to flow, - But, as soft gales dissolve the dreary snow It soothed us, it beguiled us, then, to hear All that she suffered for her dear Lord's sake. Then, too, this Song of mine once more could please, Where anguish, strange as dreams of restless sleep, Is tempered and allayed by sympathies Aloft ascending, and descending deep, Even to the inferior Kinds; whom forest-trees Of the sharp winds; -fair Creatures!-to whom Heaver |