But not in fashion's brilliant hall, Surrounded by the gay and fair, And thou art fairest of them all, Oh think not, think not of me there. But when the thoughtless crowd is gone, And hushed the voice of senseless glee, And all is silent, still, and lone, And thou art sad,—remember me! Remember me—but, loveliest, ne'er When in his orbit fair, and high, The morning's glowing charioteer, Rides proudly up the blushing sky; But when the waning moon-beam sleeps, At midnight on the lonely lea, And nature's pensive spirit weeps, In all her dews—remember me!
Remember -me, I pray; but not In Flora's gay and blooming hour, When every brake has found its note,. And withers sadly on the tree, And o'er the ruins of the year Dark autumn sighs—remember me! Remember me! But when the deafening billows foam In madness o'er the pathless sea, Then let thy pilgrim fancy roam Across them—and remember me!
If we were not, would seem to smile the less, Of all that flatter'd, follow'd, sought and sued; This is to be alone; this, this, is solitude 1. How cruel is a cool temper after fury! In the horror of despair ferocity is taken for courage, and the fear of suffering for firmness of mind. Let a look, a surprise call us back to ourselves, and we find that weakness only was the principle of our heroism, that repentance is the fruit of it, and contempt the recompence. The knowledge of my fault, is the most severe punishment of it.
My first does affliction denote, Which my second is destined to feel; And my whole is the best antidote, That affliction to soften and heal.
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So long as public men, in public stations, exert themselves in those situations, to fulfil the duty demanded from them by the public, they will always find the British nation ready to heap upon them the utmost extent of its gratitude and its applause. Lord Nelson. While love to give thee birth o'er shame succeeds, From shame, tho' love implores, the victim bleeds. O'er coldness and disdain; And flinty is her heart, can view, To battle march a lover true, Can hear, perchance his last adieu,.
Wealth commands the eye of heauty, and the ear of greatness; gives spirit to the dull, and authority to the timorous; and leaves him from whom it departs without virtue and without understanding. Such foretaste of the perfect joy of heaven. And when the thought recurred of sufferings past, Perils wh:.
Though death's strong image in thy form we trace, Come, sleep! The Hindoos assert, that if the Author of the Universe preferred one religion to another, that only could prevail of which he approved; because to presume such preference while we see so many different religions would be the height of impiety, as it would be supposing injustice towards those he left ignorant of his will; and they therefore conclude, that every religion is peculiarly adapted to the country and people where it is practised, and that all in their original purity are equally acceptable to God.
Revenge from some baneful corner shall level a tale of dishonor at thee, which no innocence of heart or integrity of conduct shall set right. The fortunes of thy house shall totter; thy character which led the way to them shall bleed on every side of it; thy faith questioned; thy works belied; thy wit forgotten; thy learning trampled on. To wind up the last scene of thy tragedy, cruelty and cowardice, twin ruffians, hired and set on by malice in the dark, shall strike together at all thy infirmities and mistakes. The best of us, my dear lad, lie open there; and trust me, trust me Yorick, when, to gratify a private appetite, it is once resolved upon that an innocent and an helpless creature shall be sacrificed, 'tis an easy matter to pick up sticks enough from any thicket where it has strayed, to make a fire to offer it up with.
Morpheus, the humble god that dwells In cottages and smoky cells, Hates gilded roofs and beds of down; And though he fears no prince's frown, Flies from the circle of a crown. Come, I say, thou powerful God, And thy leaden charming rod, Dipp'd in the Lethean lake, O'er his wakeful temples shake, Lest he should sleep and never wake.
Nature, alas! It is a very common mistake in judgment, and a very dangerous one in conduct, first to look for nothing in the argument proposed to us but the motive of the man who uses it, and then to measure the truth of his argument, by the motive we have assigned to him. The judgment and capacity which make resistance useless or impracticable, are rated much higher than even the resolution which overcomes it. Ill-busied man! The beating of thy pulse, when thou art well, Is just the tolling of thy passing bell: Night is thy hearse, whose sable canopie Covers alike deceased day and thee.
And all those weeping dews which nightly fall, Are but the tears shed for thy funeral. In a few weeks the passion which had so long disturbed the peace of Laura was hushed by lasting repose; but it was the repose of the land where the whirlwind has passed—dreary and desolate. Men are in proportion wicked, as they are ignorant or envious; and the only means of eluding their mischievous intentions, is to keep out of their way. Pale flowers! By Love's delightful influence the attack of ill humour is resisted; the violence of our passions abated; the bitter cup of affliction sweetened; all the injuries of the world alleviated; and the sweetest flowers plentifully strewed along the most thorny paths of life.
High the bliss that waits on wedded love, Best, purest emblem of the bliss above I To draw new raptures from another's joy; To share each grief, and half its sting destroy; Of one fond heart to be the slave and lord, Bless and be bless'd, adore and be aJor'd; To own the link of soul, the chain of mind, Sublimest friendship, passion most refined; Passion, to life's last evening hour still warm, And friendship, brightest in the darkest storm— Lives there, but would, for blessings so divine, The crowded haram's sullen joys resign?
How sleep the brave, who sink to rest By all their country's wishes blest? When spring, with dewy fingers cold, Returns to deck their hallow'd mould, She there shall dress a sweeter sod, Than fancy's feet have ever trod. He was brave, violent, and weak "of intellect, the three most essential qualities to influence a man, either to send, or to accept a challenge. How blest her smile that gives the soul repose! How blest her voice, that, like the genial shower. Pour'd on the desert, gladdens as it flows, And cheers the sinking heart, and conquers half our woes!
And foams and sparkles for a while, And murmuring then subsides to rest; Thus man, the sport of bliss and care,. Thirsting he toils across the plains that glow, And 6nds a waste of sand, where waters seem'd to flow! There is an obligation to complacency, if not, humility of manners, which the acquisition of wealth or station lays on every man, though it has often, especially on weak minds, a directly opposite effect.
A certain degree of inattention, or rudeness, which from an equal we may easily pardon, from a superior becomes a serious injury.
Is like the scorpion girt by fire, In circle narrowing as it glows, The flames around their captive close, Till inly searched by thousand throes, And maddening in her ire,. One sad and sole relief she knows, The sting she nourished for her foes, Whose venom never yet was vain, Gives but one pang and cures all pain, And darts into her desperate brain; So do the dark in soul expire, Or live like scorpion girt by fire; So writhes the mind remorse hath driven, Unfit for earth, undoomed for heaven, Darkness above, despair beneath, Around it flame, within it death.
For health and the comforts it bears on its wing, 1 Let me hope, oh! Then at home when with care sympathetic attended, I should rest unmolested, and slumber in peace. And when the vain shadows of time are retiring, When life is fast fleeting, and death is in sight,. Ere sin threw a blight o'er the spirit's young bloom, Or earth had profaned what was born for the skies. Death chill'd the fair fountain, ere sorrow had stain'd it, 'Twas frozen in all the pure light of its course,. And but sleeps till the sunshine of heaven has unchain'd it, To water that Eden, where first was its source!
Eve sin threw a blight o'er the spirit's young bloom, Or earth had profan'd what was born for the skies. Weeping for the death of Joy, "Whose phantom sometimes flits around the mast. Recalling all the brightness of the past: But if repentant Love woos the light form to stay, He spreads his rainbow wings and flies away.
Soft pity never leaves the gentle breast Where love has been received, a welcome guest; As wandering saints poor huts have sacred made, He hallows every heart, he once has swayed; And when his presence we no longer share, Still leaves compassion as a relick there. All others are but vanity. In heaven ambition cannot dwell Nor avarice in the vaults of hell; Earthly these passions of the earth, They perish where they have their birth;. It soweth here with toil and care, But the harvest time of love is there.
The babe she lost in infancy, Hath she not then, for pains and fears, The day of woe, the watchful night, For all her sorrows, all her tears, An over payment of delight? Men possessed of the first, do things tolerably, and are satisfied; of the last, forbear doing things well, because they have ideas beyond them. And by her delicate and flower-soft hands Sway'd, as enamour'd of her mastery, moved, Lovingly on their bright chaf'd bits reposed, Or in gay sport upon each oMier fawn'd. We must all recollect, with what delight we imbibed these sentiments at the fountain of classical learning, and followed them into action in the history of great men and illustrious states; but of late, and especially towards the close of the last century, there seems to have crept into this nation a sort of spurious and barren philosophy, of which it was the object to deny those associations; to represent them as the illusions of ignorance, frenzy, or falsehood; to curb the original play of nature, to inculcate coldness and selfishness upon system; and to institute in the place of all that formed the delight of a higher philosophy, a spirit of lazy deliberation conducted by apathy, and ending therefore in meanness and dishonour.
The experience of the few last years has abolished, I trust for ever, that heartless and bloodless system, the miserable abortion of a cold heart and depraved imagination, which never waked one noble thought, nor inspired one generous action. The experience of the few last years has proved, that those high sentiments which we were taught to respect, were not false and visionary; but that they are founded upon whatever is deepest and purest in the human character.
It has proved, that true reason is never at war with just feeling; that man is now what he was in those distant ages, a creature born indeed to act upon principles, but that he never acts more nobly, more wisely, more worthily of himself, than when he acts upon the prompt persuasions of grand passions, sublimed and directed by lofty principles.
The small birds rejoice in the green leaves returning, The murmuring streamlet winds clear through the vale,. The hawthorn trees blow in the dew of the morning, And wide scattered cowslipj bedeck the green dale. But what can give pleasure, or what can seem fair. No flowers gaily springing, nor birds sweetly singing, Can soothe the sad bosom of joyless despair. The deed that I dared, could it merit their malice, A king, and a father to place on his throne 2. His right are these hills, and his right are these vallies, Where the wild beasts find shelter, but I can find none. But 'tis not my sufferings, thus wretched, forlorn, My brave gallant friends, 'tis your ruin I mourn,.
No radiant pearl which crested fortune wears, No gem that twinkling hangs from beauty's ears, Not the bright stars which heaven's high arch adorn. Nor vernal sun that gilds the rising morn, Shine with such lustre as the tears that break, For other's woe, down virtue's manly cheek. Sincerity is an openness of the heart which is rarely to be found; that which commonly personates it is a refined dissimulation, whose end is to procure confidence. A desire to talk of ourselves, and to set our faults in whatever light we choose, makes the main of our sincerity.
Thus oft a form, which seems so fresh and fair, That nought, we think, of vile could linger there, Serves to conceal a soul, where Sin and Crime Are stamp'd so blackly by the hand of time,. There is something in sickness that breaks down the pride of manhood; that softens the heart, and brings it back to the feelings of infancy. Who that has languished, even in advanced life, in sickness and despondency; who that has pined an a weary bed in the neglect and loneliness of a foreign land, but has thought on the mother ' that looked on his childhood,' that smoothed his pillow, and administered to his helplessness?
It is neither to be chilled by selfishness, nor daunted by danger, nor weakened by worthlessness, nor stifled by ingratitude. She will sacrifice every comfort to his convenience; she will surrender every pleasure to his enjoyment; she will glory in his fame and exult in his prosperity; and if adversity overtake him, he will be the dearer to her from misfortune; and if disgrace settle upon his name she will still love and cherish him; and if all the world beside cast him off, she will be all the world to him.
What heart of man unmoved can lie, When plays the smile in beauty's eye? Or when a form of grace and love To music's notes can lightly move? Yes; there are hearts unmoved can see The smile, the ring, the revelry:— But heart of warrior ne'er could bear The beam of beauty's crystal tear. Chacun se dit ami, mais fou qui s'y repose; Rien n'est plus commun que le nom, Rien n'est plus rare que la chose. Pity is a sentiment so natural, so appropriate to the female character, that it is scarcely a virtue for a woman to possess it, but to be without it, is a grievous crime. To love and not to move is a misery.
Then since all hope is gone, all hope adieu, For thoughts, words, deeds, and all are all untrue. Vain is it to command or wind or wil! Lalla Rookh herself could not help feeling the kindness and splendour with which the young bridegroom welcomed her, but she also felt how painful is the gratitude which kindness from those we cannot love creates; and that their best blandishments come over the heart, with all that chilling and deadly sweetness, which we can fancy in the cold, odoriferous wind that is to blow over this earth in the last days.
A Good name is the embalming of the virtuous to an eternity of love and gratitude among posterity. Child of the sun! The following was the address of Mr. The military triumphs which your valour has achieved on the banks of the Douro and the Tagus, of the Ebro and the Garonne, have called forth the spontaneous shouts of admiring nations.
Those triumphs it is needless on this day to recount. Their names have been written by your conquering sword in the annals of Europe, and we shall hand them down with exultation to our children's children. It has been that generous and lofty spirit which inspired your troops with unbounded confidence, and taught them to know that the day of battle was always a day of victory! That moral and enduring fortitude, which in perilous times, when gloom and doubt had beset ordinary minds, stood, nevertheless unshaken!
And that ascendancy of character, which uniting the energies of jealous and rival nation, enabled you to wield, at will, the fates and fortunes of mighty empires! But this nation well knows that it is still largely your debtor. It owes to you the proud satisfaction, that amidst the constellation of illustrious warriors who have lately visited this country, we could present to them a leader of our own, to whom all, by common acclamation, conceded the pre-eminence!
And when the will of Heaven, and the common destinies of our nature, shall Have swept away the present generation, you will have left your great name, an imperishable monument, exciting others to like deeds of glory, and serving at once to adorn, defend, and perpetuate the existence of this country amongst the rising nations of the earth. With conscious pride I view the band Of faithful friends that round me stand; With pride exult that 1 alone Can join these scatter'd gems in one, For they're the wreath of pearls, and I The silken cord on which they lie!
Misunderstanding and inattention create more uneasiness in the world than deception and artifice, or at least, their consequences are more universal. Tis sweet to behold, when the billows are sleeping, Some gay colour'cl bark moving gracefully by;. No damp on her deck, but the eventide's weeping, No breath in her sails but the summer wind's sigh. When storms are abroad, we may find in the number, One friend like the life-boat to 8y to our aid'. Gentlb River! Wilt thou thus complain for ever? Why, when nought obstructs thy flow, Dost thou sigh, and murmuring low, Strike my ear with sounds of woe?
Is it that some sandbank's force For an instant stay'd thy course? Has some shoal or rugged rock Stemm'd thy waves with sudden shock? Wail no longer, gentle river! These are past and gone for ever: Yonder is the wish'd-for sea, Home of peace and rest for thee!
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Affliction is the wholesome soil of virtue, where patience, honour, sweet humanity, and calm fortitude take root and strongly flourish. She seem'd so pure, that I thought Heaven borrowed her fair form for virtue's self to wear, to gain her lovers with the sons of men. It is now sixteen or seventeen years since I saw the queen of France, then the dauphiness, at Versailles; and surely never lighted on this orb a more delightful vision. I saw her, just above the horizon, decorating and cheering the elevated sphere she just began to move in,— glittering like the morning star, full of life, and splendour, and joy.
I thought ten thousand swords must have leaped from their scabbards to avenge even a look that threatened her with insult—but the age of chivalry is gone 1 Burke. Circles are praised, not that abound In largeness, but th' exactly round; So life we prize, that doth excel Not in much time, but acting well.
What are spirits? If the young man forgets his God, the old one will seldom find him in old age; if in the pride and flush of health, we omit to call on the name of him from whom we possess the vigour of life, in the hour of sickness what comfort can we have in approaching his divine majesty? And if in the full enjoyment of every species of worldly prosperity, we neglect to pause in the midst of our enjoyment to acknowledge the giver of all good gifts, with what heart can we in the hour of adversity fly for protection to divine goodness?
Look not thou on beauty's charming, Sit thou still when kings' are arming, Taste not when the wine-cup glistens, Speak not when the people listens, Stop thine ear against the singer, From the red gold keep thy finger, Vacant heart, and hand, and eye, Easy live, and quiet die. But can the wiles of art, the grasp of power, Snatch the rich relics of a well-spent hour 1 These, when the trembling spirit wings her flight, Pour round her path a stream of living light, And gild those pure and perfect realms of rest, Where virtue triumphs and her sons are blest!
Life is but a day at most, Sprung from night,. Sheds placid influence, how the soften'd mien, And soften'd heart, consenting, own thy sway! Thus rifted ice, enchain'd by winter keen, Thaw'd by the sun, in rivers rolls away, And glads the parched waste, and sparkles to the day. This life will not admit of equality; but surely that man who thinks he derives consequence and respect from keeping others at a distance, is as base minded as the coward, who shuns the enemy from the fear of an attack. Labours with shortening breath— Peace! His small mouth's rosy kiss; Then, waken'd with a start By thine own throbbing heart, His twining arms to miss.
A dull, heart-sinking weight, 'Till memory on thy soul Flashes the painful whole That thou art desolate. And think the livelong night, Feeding thine own distress With accurate greediness Of every past delight. From flesh that sets me free, Thy spirit may await, The first at Heaven's gate, To meet and welcome me. But perhaps the knowledge which causeth not to err is most frequently impressed upon the mind during the seasons of affliction; and tears are the softened showers which cause the seed of heaven to spring and take root in the human heart. Oh I we are querulous creatures! Tir'd nature's sweet restorer, balmy sleep!
He, like the world, his ready visit pays Where Fortune smiles; the wretched he forsakes: Swift on his downy pinion flies from woe, And lights on lids unsullied with a tear. Hastings in his political sagacity, took the converse of the doctrine that the experience of history had established; that opulence and wealth, as they attached a man to the country where they lay, made him cautious how he hazarded any enterprise that might draw the jealousy of government. Poverty on the other hand, made a man giddy and desperate; having no permanent state he was easily seduced into commotion.
Hastings on the contrary, never failed to find a convincing proof of attachment in penury, and of rebellion in wealth. The crowd is gone, the travellers at rest, The courteous host and all-approving guest, Again to that accustom'd couch must creep Where joy subsides, and sorrow sighs to sleep, And man o'er laboured with his being's strife, Shrinks to that sweet forgetfulness of life.
There lie love's feverish hope, and cunning's guile, Hate's working brain, and lull'd ambition's wile, O'er each vain eye oblivion's pinions wave, And quench'd existence crouches in a grave. What better name may slumber's bed become? Night's sepulchre, the universal home, Where weakness, strength, vice, virtue, sunk supine, Alike in naked helplessness recline. Glad for awhile to heave unconscious breath, Yet wake to wrestle with the dread of death; And shun, though day but dawn on ills increased, That sleep, the loveliest, since it dreams the least.
Never was that man merry that had more than one woman in his bed, one friend in his bosom, one faith in his heart. Fortune is sweet, Fortune is sour, Fortune will laugh, Fortune will low'r; The fading fruit of Fortune's flower Doth ripe and rot both in an hour. Fortune can give, Fortune can take, Fortune can mar, Fortune can make; When others sleep, poor I do wake, And all for unkind Fortune's sake. Fortune sets up, Fortune pulls down, Fortune soon loves, but hates as soon; She is less constant than the moon, She'll give a groat, and take a crown.
Misfortune, like a creditor, severe, But rises in demand for her delay; She makes a scourge of past prosperity, To sting thee more, and double thy distress. For though from the grace of the picture the colours may fade by time, may give by weather, may be spotted by chance, yet the other, nor time with her swift wings shall overtake, nor the misty clouds with their lowerings may darken, nor chance with her slippery foot may overthrow.
Every man has in his own life follies enough—in his own mind troubles enough—in the performance of his duties deficiencies enough—in his own fortunes evils enough—without being curious about the affairs of others. A Solitary blessing few can find,. Cupid's dead. Who woulde not dye To be interred so neare her eye. Who woulde feare the sword, to have Such an alabaster grave, O'er which two hright tapers burne, To give light to the beauteous urne 1 At the first Castara smil'd, Thinking Cupid her beguil'd, Onely counterfeiting death; But when she perceiv'd his breath Quite expir'd, the mournfull girle, To entombe the boy in pearle, Wept so long, that pittious Jove, From the ashes of this love,.
Made ten thousand Cupids rise, But confin'd them to her eyes, Where they yet, to showe they lacke No due sorrowe, still weare blacke; But the blackes, so glorious are, Which they mourne in, that the faire Quires of starres turne pale and fret, Seeing themselves outshin'd by jet.
I Can both see and feel how hereditary distinction, when it falls to the lot of a generous mind, may elevate that mind into true nobility. It is one of the effects of hereditary rank, when it falls thus happily, that it multiplies the duties, and as it were extends the existence of the possessor. To weary wanderers given, There is a tear for souls distrest A balm, for every wounded breast, Tis found above in Heaven!
The heart with anguish riven, And views the tempest passing by, The evening shadows quickly fly, And all's serene in Heaven. And joys supreme are given, There, rays divine disperse the gloom— Beyond the confines of the tomb Appears the dawn of Heaven! Times of action make princes into peasants, and boors into barons. O Thou! The mourner banquets on memory; making that which seems the poison of life, its aliment.
During the hours of regret we recal the images of departed joys, and in weeping over each tender remembrance, tears so softly shed embalm the wounds of grief. To be denied the privilege of pouring forth our love and our lamentations over the grave of one who in life was our happiness, is to shut up the soul of the survivor in a solitary tomb, where the bereaved heart pines in secret till it breaks with the fulness of uncommunicated sorrow: but listen to the mourner; give his feelings way, and, like the river rolling from the hills into the valley, they will flow with a gradually gentler stream, till they become lost in time's wide ocean.
Miss Porter. Mark how his breast doth swell and rise Against his potent enemy! When some old friend shall step to my bedside, Touch my chill face, and Ihence shall gently glide;. We are bound to speak truth to our neighbour; for the use and application of speech imply a tacit promise of truth, speech having been given us for no other purpose.
It is not a compact between one private man with another; it is a common compact of mankind in general, and a kind of right of nations, or rather a law of nature. Whoever tells an untruth violates this law and common compact. In every season of life grief brings its own peculiar antidote along with it: the buoyancy of youth soon repels its 'deadening weight; the firmness of manhood resists its weakening influence; the torpor of old age is insensible to its most acute pangs. The faint pang stealcst unperceived away; On thee I rest my only hope at last, And think, when thou hast dried the bitter tear, That flows in vain o'er all my soul held dear,.
And meet life's peaceful evening with a smile;— As some lone bird, at day's departing hour, Sings in the sunbeam of the transient shower, Forgetful, though its wings are wet the while:— Yet, ah! A calm at sea resembles that artificial sleep which is effected by opium in an ardent fever: the disease is suspended, but no good is derived from it. In eddying course when leaves began to fly, And Autumn in her lap the stores to strew, As 'mid wild scenes I chanced the muse to woo,.
Oh poverty! May I never be visited by thee in the fulness of thy power! It would be ridiculous in me, after the late intimation you were pleased to favour me with, to affect any longer an ignorance of your sentiments, opposite soever as an approbation of them must be to the dictates of reason and justice. This expression, Madam, I am highly sensible may appear too coarse in the mouth of a polite man; but I hope it is no disgrace to the behaviour of a sincere one.
Give me leave, Madam, to remark, that the connection subsisting between your husband and myself, is of a nature too strong for me to think of injuring him in a point where the happiness of his life is so materially concerned. You cannot be sensible of his goodness, or my obligations; and suffer me to observe, Madam, that were I capable of such an action at the time that my behaviour might be rewarded by your passion, I must be despised by your reason; and though I might be esteemed as a lover, I must be hated as a man.
Highly sensible, Madam, of the power of your beauty, I am determined to avoid an interview where my reputation may be for ever lost. You have passions, you say, Madam, but give me leave to answer, that you have understanding also; you have a heart susceptible of the Underest impressions, but a soul, if you choose to wake it, above an unwarrantable indulgence of them; and let me intreat you for your sake, that no giddy impulse of an illplaced inclination may induce you to entertain a thought prejudicial to your honour, and repugnant to your virtue.
I, Madam, am far from being insensible; I too have passions; and could my situation a few years ago have allowed me a possibility of succeeding, I should have legally solicited that happiness you are now ready to bestow. I had the honor, Madam, of supping at Mr.
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D's, where I first saw you, and shall make no scruple of declaring that I never saw a person so irresistibly beautiful, or a manner so excessively engaging; but the superiority of your circumstances prevented any declaration on my side; and though I burned with a flame as strong as ever filled the human breast, I laboured to suppress, or at least studied to conceal it. Time and absence at length abated an unhoping passion, and your marriage with my friend and my patron effectually cured it. My best esteem is ever yours; but should I promise more, consider, I conjure you, the fatal necessity I am under of removing myself from an interview so dangerous; and in any other commands dispose of Your most humble and devoted.
And ring of gold, no fond illusions now, Bind her as his. Across the threshold led, And every tear kissed off as soon as shed, His house she enters, there to be a light Shining within, when all without is night; A guardian Angel o'er his life presiding, Doubling his pleasures, and his cares dividing! The soul of music slumbers in the shell, Till waked and kindled by the master's spell; And feeling hearts—touch them but rightly—pour A thousand melodies unheard before!
In a vigorous well governed and actively employed mind Love rarely becomes that resistless tyrant vanity and romances represent him. His empire is divided by the love of fame or the desire of usefulness, the eagerness of research, or the triumph of discovery. Yes Lady, I have loved, and few can guess How rough the wound that hath this bosom tore From all we prize on earth—the deep distress Which sleeps not, dies not—'till we hreathe no more; There is a sorrow, which doth more than weep, And tears, it were a mockery to shed; There is a silence, which loo well doth speak; The care how hopeless, when the heart hath bled!
I am not as I seem! Perchance a look of better days will glow, Such is the flush consumption can impart, And such the emblem of a surer woe, The slow consuming of a broken heart. Is this to live? It is not poverty so much as pretence, that harasses a ruined man—the struggle between a proud mind and an empty purse—the keeping up a hollow show that must soon come to an end.
Have the courage to appear poor and you disarm poverty of its sharpest sting. But now those white unblemish'd manners, whence The fabling poets took the golden age, Are found no more amid these iron times, These dregs of life! Now the distemper'd mind Has lost that concord of harmonious powers Which forms the soul of happiness, and all Is off the poize within. The passions all. One of the deaf and dumb in the institution at Paris, being desired to express his idea of the eternity of the deity, replied,.
His eternity is youth without infancy or old age; life without birth or death; to-day without yesterday or to-morrow. Tranquil its spirit seem'd, and floated slow! Even in its very motion, there was rest: While every breath of eve that chanced to blow, Waftsd the traveller to the beauteous west. Emblem, methought of the departed soul! To whose white robe the gleam of bliss is given; And by the breath of mercy made to roll Right onwards to the golden gates of Heaven, Where, to the eye of faith it peaceful lies, And tells to man his glorious destinies.
He cares but little for society; the ordinary intercourse of the world, had slender charms for him; but he has ambition, and ambition is a passion that cannot have its proper scope in a world of his own imagination. He cares but little for the world, but he would be ill satisfied with the reverse of this proposition—that the world should not care for him. He will not endure its censure; he will not endure its contempt; he is formed to feel any slur that is cut upon him, not like a wound, but like fifty mortal swords each of them striking at something infinitely beyond hit life.
That cur'st our woes and strife; Only because we're ill resolv'd, And in dark error's clouds involr'd, Think Death the end of Lafe; Which most untrue, Each place we view, Gives testimonies rife. New rising from their tomb; The eglantines and honey-daisies, And all those pretty smiling faces, That still in age grow young; Even these do cry, That though men die, Yet life from death may come.
In time they all decay; Yet from their old and wasted roots, At length again grow up young shoots, That are as fresh and gay; Then why should we Thus fear to die, Whose death brings life for aye? Corrupting in its urn; But at the spring it flourisheth, When Phoebus only cherisheth With life at his return. Doth Times' Sun this? Then sure it is Time's Lord can more perform. One who has basked in the sunshine of fortune, without deriving happiness from affluence, whose associate! Th,e mask that veiled mankind was. Procrastination is the thief of time; Year after year it steals, 'till all are fled.
Antipater, of Tarsus, carefully entered every agreeable circumstance in that excellent book of the mind, the memory; how much wiser, how much happier than those, who, forgetful of every blessing they have received, hang on the vain and deceitful hand of hope, and while they are idly grasping at future acquisitions, neglect the enjoyment of the present. Ridley Park. Honey Brook. Clarks Green. Penn Valley. West Conshohocken. Homer City. Evans City. New Bethlehem. University Park. Lehigh Valley.
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West Pittsburg. Fairmount City. Oil City. Lake City. Roaring Spring. Hawk Run. Pine Grove Mills. Spring Mills. Warriors Mark. West Decatur. Mount Holly Springs. New Bloomfield. Shermans Dale. Saint Thomas. East Berlin. Fawn Grove. Seven Valleys. York Springs. Peach Bottom. Trout Run. Beaver Springs. Potts Grove. Shamokin Dam. West Milton. Port Carbon. Green Lane. New Tripoli. Red Hill. Pocono Summit. Pocono Lake. Shawnee On Delaware.
White Mills. White Haven. Great Bend. Forest Grove. Point Pleasant. Bryn Athyn. Chester Heights. Gwynedd Valley. Pine Forge. Covington Township. George School. Lower Paxton. Maple Glen. Mid City East. Mount Penn. West York. William Penn Annex West. Center Square. Jefferson Township. Lords Valley. Forty Fort. Rose Valley. Spring Brook Township. Verified by Psychology Today. I also specialize in helping people cope with health conditions and chronic illness.
Trusty friends, wee greet you heartily well. Sua we commit you to God. The roads were lined with people, who on all sides joined in the loudest acclamations. In the market-place, he was met by the body corporate of the borough; Hugh Gregson, the Mayor, presented him with an offering of gold, and surrender of their charter; after which the Recorder made a speech of congratulation: these the King received most graciously, at the same time restoring the charter, and promising his royal favour and protection.
On the following day the King received several of the English Nobles, among whom were Lord Cobham, and Henry Howard, brother of the Duke of Norfolk, who came to Berwick to pay their duty to their new Sovereign: his Majesty inspected the fortifications, magazines, and port, and at the head of the garrison drawn out and under arms, with his own hands, discharged a piece of ordnance. The boundaries are from the port, extending northward by the sea shore to the road called Brown Rod, and by that road westward to the rivulet of Witteter, and by the said road to the river Tweed, and by the river's banks to the port or haven.
The scite of the ancient castle and its outworks remains in the Crown, being specially reserved in the grants made to the corporation. By the rolls of King Edward the Second's reign, it appears that a house of Carmelites, or White Friars, was founded at Berwick, by Sir John Grey, about the year , whose duty it was to officiate at the chapel royal within the castle.
According to the custom of the times, a religious house was founded at Berwick Bridge, dedicated to the Holy Trinity. Tanner says, here was a house of Friars Preachers before the year The salmon fishery here is very considerable. Mr Pennant speaks of it in the following terms: They lay on each side the river, and are all private property, except what belongs to the Dean and Chapter of Durham, which in rent and tithe of fish, brings in l. The common rents of these are 50l. The best fishery is on the south side; very fine salmon trout are often taken here, which come up from the sea to spawn, and return in the same manner as the salmon do.
To it may also be added, that in the middle of the river, not a mile west of the town, is a large stone, on which a man is placed, to observe what is called the Reck of the salmon coming up. Historians have differed greatly in the etymology of the name of Berwick. After having mentioned the evidences of antiquity, it is requisite, before I quit the subject, I should speak of Berwick in its natural state.
The prospect of the ocean conveys to the contemplative mind, a grand association of images, which describe the might and majesty of the Creator. As I walked the banks, imagination roved at large, but took a melancholy strain; I conceived I heard the alarm guns fired at Bambrough Castle, and the signal of distress waved in my Fancy's eye, from some vessel at a distance. The inhabitants of Berwick have enough of such horrid scenes: the coast is terrible to mariners.
The Land Prospect doth not produce a scene wild enough to be called romantic, or sufficiently cultivated, to be smooth, placid, and agreeable. Below Berwick bridge, there is not enough either of trade or tranquillity; it possesses the middle station; neither busy enough nor enough at rest, is dulness. Above bridge, in the fishing season, the scene is beautifully enlivened.
Below, some few vessels are moored, but too often the heavy hulks are turned up on the dry sands, with masts unrigged, waiting for trade and tide. Such are dull objects to the eye, and have no other effect upon the spectator than to promote weariness and impatiency. Over the arm of the sea which breaks upon the bar of Tweed, the lands to the southward are extended for several miles upon the view, varied with the happy colourings which succeed to cultivation; but the distance is so great, that objects are indistinct, and the beauties of the landskip lay in confusion: two often indeed the whole is enveloped in sea vapour.
These shew to us what were the infamous enormities committed in these expeditions. The war carried on between the two nations, was as brutal as any in the annals of the Caribbees, or any savages under the sun. When the wolves descend the Alps upon the villages, it is the effect of hunger in its extreme; but here the blood of the peasant was shed without any cogency of cause, but the lucre of his herds, flocks, and possessions.
The immortal King John burnt, laid waste, and destroyed half the island, from York northward: Alexander in all his glory never exhibited a more noble conflagration. Edward contaminated his honours with many of those atchievements. Thirty-three thousand souls fled in one day to the gates of eternity, dispatched by the command of Princes, who could not account to heaven what it was they fought for.
When the most valiant atchievements were performed, even in the presence of their Princes, revenge appeared to be the only instigation, and common justice was seldom considered. William King of Scotland was a prisoner on one of his incursions: he witnessed a cruel slaughter of his people. Our Edward I. The battles of Otterburn and Flodden Field were upon the same principles as the others. The strength of this, and every nation, is the union of its inhabitants—he who blows up the embers of extinguished feuds, is particularly an enemy to both parties, and a foe to the state at large.
The accession of King James the VI. Yet it was not till the union of the two kingdoms, that these effects of peace were brought to the happy eminence now discovered on every hand. Trade was to be free all over the island, and to the plantations; private rights were to be preserved; and the judicature and laws of Scotland were still to be continued. The description given of this island Symeon, p. It hath the name of Lindisfarn, from a small rivulet called Lindis, which from the opposite continent empties itself into the sea.
The island chiefly consists of one continued plain, inclining to the south-west. The land on which the village stands, rises swiftly from the shore; at the southern point, is a rock of a conical figure, and almost perpendicular, near 60 feet in height, having on its lofty crown a small fortress or castle, which makes at once a grotesque and formidable appearance. I did not observe one tree upon the island. The village consists of a few scattered houses, two of which are Inns, the rest chiefly inhabited by fishermen.
The shore is excellent for bathing, and the situation at once healthy and romantic: it is surprising it should be so little resorted to. The rest of the summit is taken up with a house for the Governor and guard, the walls of which stand on the very brink of the precipice. The antiquity of this castle is not known, but I should presume it is coeval with the abbey, and was used as a place of resort in times of peril, and a stronghold for the religious, whenever they were disturbed in their holy retreat.
The present fortifications appear to be the work of the last century. The ingenious Mr Grose gives the following anecdotes relative to this castle:— Camden mentions it, so that it is evidently as old as his time. Probably it has been the scene of very few remarkable events: history being nearly as silent with respect to them, as concerning its origin. The first time it occurs, is in the history of the civil war in the time of Charles I.
In the year , one Captain Batton was Governor of the island, for the Parliament; to whom Sir Marmaduke Langdale, after the taking of Berwick, wrote the following letter, but without success. The letter, together with the Captain's refusal, were transmitted to the House of Commons, for which they voted their thanks to Captain Batton, and that he should be continued Governor of the place. Sir, you have the good opinion of the counties to be a sober discreet man amongst them, which emboldeneth me, a stranger to you, to propose that which every man in his duty to God and the King ought to perform the veil of these horrid designs plotted by some, that men may run and read the misery and thraldom they intend upon the whole nation.
It is believed by many that know you, that you are sensible of the imprisonment of his Majesty, and the violation of all our laws. From that time nothing memorable seems to have been transacted here, till the rebellion in the year , when the seizure of this castle was planned and performed by two men only. The following particulars of the story were communicated by a Gentleman whose father was an eye-witness to the facts, and well knew both the parties.
At this time the garrison consisted of a serjeant, a corporal, and 10 or 12 men only. During this time he had digged a burrow quite under the foundations of the prison, depositing the earth taken out in an old oven. Through this burrow he and his nephew, with divers other prisoners, escaped; but most of the latter were soon after taken.
The two Erringtons however had the good fortune to make their way to the Tweedside, where they found the custom-house boat; they rowed themselves over, and afterwards turned it adrift. At length travelling in the night by secret paths, they reached Gateshead House, near Newcastle, where they were secreted till they procured a passage from Sunderland to France. A reward of l. After the suppression of the rebellion, when every thing was quiet, he and his nephew took the benefit of the general pardon, and returned to Newcastle, where he died about the year , as it is said, of grief at the victory of Culloden.
The remains of the old abbey in the next place require my attention; such parts of this cathedral are standing as give a perfect idea of its original form and appearance. It is said by some authors, that the monastery was built by St. The introduction of Monks into England, is spoken of as a master-piece of policy in the court of Rome, as endeavouring thereby to secure her authority by an increase of property, which would arise to her by the pious donations and offerings of the faithful, and the founding of many religious houses, to be occupied by such as were, from the nature of their institute, attached to the Holy See, and might occasionally serve every purpose of spiritual tyranny.
This is a heavy charge, and if well grounded, should have prevented the monastic rule from ever taking effect in any kingdom, or occasioned its ruin as soon as the discovery was made, or the charge formed. This he obviates, by monasteries being established here before Austin's time; and takes for his authorities Gildas and Bede, as to their being schools of christian learning. He adds, in all this, we hear nothing of foreign connections, of sinister inventions, or hypocrisy. The Roman Pontiff knew how to draw from the circumstances of William's afrairs, advantages which the Conqueror never intended; and which his immediate successors could not prevent, as they were equally or more obliged to the church for her support, than he himself had been.
The introduction, therefore, of so many new orders of Monks into England by the Norman Kings, was according to their own policy, and not that of the Court of Rome. The Court of Rome could have no direct hand in all this; and the monastick institute, of its own nature, can have no part in either a civil or a spiritual tyranny, unless where perverted; as the best of institutes may have been, by the malice of men. But to return from this digression. The cathedral is in the form of a cross, the east and west limbs of which are yet standing, the other parts totally in ruins, and almost level with the ground.
The order of building in this structure is rude and heavy, and most of it in the worst mode of the early Saxon architecture. On the north and south walls there are pointed arches, which proves that part of it at least was built since the reign of Henry II. The whole structure is composed of a soft red free-stone, which yields much to time, and renders the aspect of the building dark and melancholy. Mr Grose's account comprehends the following particulars:. This building consists of a body and two side ailes, into which it is divided by a double row of very solid columns, whose shafts are richly ornamented.
The shafts of these columns are about 12 feet high, their diameters about five, their capitals and pedestals are plain, they support circular arches, having over each arch two ranges of windows; the lowest large and in pairs, separated only by a short column; the upper small and single. The length of the building is about feet, the breadth of the body 18 feet, and that of the two side ailes about nine feet each.
The succession of Bishops was as follows. Aidan held the Bishopric 17 years, and died, it is said, through grief for the loss of his royal patron, A. Finan, in the year , succeeded Aidan in this Bishopric: he was a Scotchman, and member of the same society with his predecessor. Archbishop Theodore, some time after this building was compleated, dedicated it to St. He ordained Bishops to attend the initiated, who in consequence of the example of the Princes, and from the influence of their own doctrines, converted multitudes. Finan was Bishop ten years, and died in the year Places of entertainment for Potentates and Princes were unnecessary, for they were visited only for their doctrines and the holy offices of the church.
The attention of these Pastors was on spiritual matters only; temporal affairs were deemed derogatory of their holy appointment; and thence arose the high veneration which was paid by all ranks of people to the religious habit. He received two consecrations, one during the vacancy of the See of Canterbury, and the other by Theodore, at York.
Wilfred was a proud aspiring man, and debased the pall of the Prelate with ambition. After his release, Wilfred became a member of the monastery of Glastonbury, under the then Abbot Berthwald, of the royal house of Mercians; but Egfrid 's wrath and resentment was not subsided, he continued his persecution of him even in his retreat, and obtained his expulsion from that house.
He then fled to the court of Adelwack King of Sussex, whose subjects were just receiving the light of conversion, and that King gave him a Bishopric called Selsey. He was now 70 years of age, and yet his powers were so little debilitated, and his passions remained so warm, that he again journeyed to Rome, and in spite of the character of a turbulent and contentious Prelate, which he carried with him, obtained a decree for his restoration.
He returned a second time with the powers of Rome in his favour, and at a more favourable season to obtain the rewards of his labour. Eata fell into the opposition of Theodore, and denied his jurisdiction as Metropolitan over the northern churches. Theodore was a powerful adversary, and held abundance of resentment when his pride was wounded. He caused the convention of a chapter of Bishops to be held on the Banks of Aln, A.
Cuthbert, from whose piety and exemplary life the church derived great honour as well as riches, calls for particular attention. The cloister of Mailross was honoured with his initiation to a religious life, the pious Eata was his preceptor, and induced him to become a member of the house of Lindisfarn. Such are the records of the religious of those ages. This life of severity excited the reverence and admiration of those ages of ignorance. How different the manners of the religious of the same church in modern times.
An ambitious or hypocritical religious, who makes a profession of humility, whilst he is puffed up with pride; a man meanly clad, and who only seeks after riches; a pretender to devotion, who gives himself out as a servant of God, while he is no more than a slave to his passions, is a monster both in church and state. Cuthbert 's restores to my memory some distant ideas. I have always considered Friendship as comprehending the most excellent feelings of the human heart: how a social and generous-minded man could live without the enjoyment of friendship, and totally withdraw himself from all attachments with the world, is to me truly a severity little to be comprehended.
Nor is it satisfactory to say, that the practice of morality is more difficult than that of superstition; and is therefore rejected. Perhaps, the following account may be received as a true solution of the difficulty. The duties which a man performs as a friend or parent, seem meerly owing to his benefactor or children; nor can he be wanting to these duties, without breaking through all the ties of nature and morality. A strong inclination may prompt him to the performance: a sentiment of order and moral obligation joins its force to these natural ties: and the whole man is truly virtuous, is drawn to his duty, without any effort or endeavour.
He still looks out for some more immediate service of the Supreme Being, in order to allay those terrors, with which he is haunted. And if, for its sake, he sacrifices much of his ease and quiet, his claim of merit appears still to rise upon him, in proportion to the zeal and devotion which he discovers. In restoring a loan, or paying a debt, his Divinity is in no wise beholden to him; because these acts of justice are what he was bound to perform, and what many would have performed, were there no God in the universe. But if he fast a a day, or give himself a sound whipping; this has a direct reference, in his opinion, to the service of God.
No other motive could engage him to such austerities. By these distinguished marks of devotion, he has now acquired the divine favour; and may expect, in recompence, protection and safety in this world, and eternal happiness in the next. But I will quit this review, to return to the more interesting features of Friendship. Gratitude is a branch of moral honesty, a confession of the debt of obligation. Yet Friendship is abundantly superior to Love and Gratitude; it is an affection of the heart, in which Benevolence presides: it is accompanied by an openness of mind, wherein Generosity and Honour are exemplary, without selfishness, or price, or consideration of reward.
In Friendship, the bosom is expanded and elated; secrecy, guile, and concealment are expelled; and probity, truth, and virtue reign in their place. There is an energy in Friendship, to which every faculty contributes: it fires the soul with fervour, and fills the heart with gladness. Such were the feelings my youth experienced in the possession of a friend. The cordiality that then took place was as dear as life. Riper manhood hath retained the whole, though in a graver degree. If such is the consequence of age; if the delightful taste of Friendship passeth away; I will cling to the departing footsteps, I will grasp at the sacred verge, from whence to fall, is to depart from the first, and the finest enjoyment of human life; the only possession on earth, which gives an idea of the communion of angels.
To return to our Saint. Thus, after nine years continuance of a solitary life in the Isle of Farne, was this pious man induced to assume an episcopal duty.
Notes on Recent Publications
He was consecrated at York on the 7th day of April, being Easter day, in the year , and in the 11th of the reign of King Egfrid. The King was present at this ceremony, with seven Bishops. He was first made Bishop of Hexham, and thence translated to Lindisfarn, in the place of Eata, who was removed to Hexham. On this occasion Egfrid, with the Metropolitan Theodorus, in testimony of their love and reverence for this holy Prelate, gave to the church of Lindisfarn all the land from the walls of the church of St.
Some short time preceding the consecration of St. From thenceforth the women were excluded the churches or cemeteries where St. On St. Cuthbert's death, Wilfrid Bishop of Hexham held the See of Lindisfarn for one year only: he was succeeded by. Eadbert, a learned man of exemplary life and piety, and of a most humane and charitable disposition. His custom was to remit all tithes to the poor. He held the See ten years, and departing this life in the year , was interred near St.
Cuthbert 's body. Egfridth, or, as some authors write him, Eadfrid next possessed the See, a Monk of Lindisfarn, one of the most learned men of his time. This curious work is now deposited in the British Museum, in the Cottonian collection. Bede presumed to remonstrate to his friend, for his neglect of the duties of his high office; for though he had, early after his coming to the See, through his high veneration of the memory of St.
Bede's maxims were, I doubt not, well adapted to the age; and they still are not insignificant to the Prelates of more modern and learned times. Egfridth was Bishop for 24 years: he departed this life in , and was buried at Lindisfarn. Ethelwold Abbot of Mailross succeeded to this Bishopric. His body, after some years sepulture, was translated to Norham; and from thence his head was removed to the cathedral church in Durham.
Cuthbert in its journeyings. Cuthbert, and placed in the century yard. This Prelate died in the year , and was succeeded by. Cynewolf, who was elected the same year. The Bishop was imprisoned at Bebbanburgh, now called Bambrough, where he remained in close durance for a considerable time. They were not informed of the chief treasure, the body of St. The episcopal seat still continued here for several years after this invasion. Egbert, whose episcopacy furnishes history with nothing memorable, though it continued 18 years. Peter, St. Cuthbert, and the royal St. He was Bishop of this See 16 years, departed this life A.
Eanbert, whose episcopacy, of eight years continuance, affords the Historian no memorable matters. He died in , and was succeeded by. By some authors it is ascribed to the resentment of Bruern Brocard, a Northumbrian Nobleman. The convent of Coldingham having been restored after a former conflagration, was then possessed, it is said, by Nuns, under an Abbess called Ebba, of royal blood. She dreading the barbarities these invaders exercised in their former descent, on all ranks of religious, in an assembly of her Nuns representing the hazard their chastity was in, communicated a device which she presumed would preserve them from these violators.
Without hesitation they vowed that her rules should be strictly observed. Forthwith she drew out a razor, and as an example, with the greatest fortitude, cut off her nose and upper lip: she was followed by the whole sisterhood. Osbert at their approach led forth a powerful army, and engaged them near the city, where he fell amongst the slain, and his troops were totally routed. This account gains greater credit than that of Bruern 's application to the Danes; and it seems most probable, the object of this invasion was no other than rapine and plunder.
The Danes after this victory, having laid waste the country between York and the Tyne, made Egbert King of Northumberland, north of Tyne, to hold his Crown as their dependent: Being afterwards employed in expeditions against the southern parts of this island, the Northumbrians dethroned this vassal King, and gave the Crown to Ricsig. Not long after this the Danish King embarking his troops in some of the southern counties, sailed for the mouth of Tyne, and landed at the town of Tynemouth, where he wintered, it being too late in the year to attempt any thing against the Northumbrians.
On the opening of the spring they began their ravages on this unfortunate country, and marked their progress with unequalled barbarities: Lindisfarn was the object of their peculiar wrath—the christian religion their most inveterate aversion. Cuthbert, and the most valuable of their riches and sacred things.
With the sacred remains of the Saint, the Bishopric was removed from this island to Chester; and whilst settled there, this Bishop, A. Eardulf continued the remainder of his episcopacy at Chester in peace, and died in the year , having been Bishop 46 years. The annual revenues were valued at 48l. There is a legendary tale, that Guthred received from St. Cuthbert a singular mark of protection, on an invasion of the Scots, who had in their progress trampled on the remains of several religious houses, and threatened the utter demolition of Lindisfarn.
When the Scotch army was drawn up in array, and ready for action, the earth opened, and in an instant swallowed their tens of thousands. The remains of St. They rested the first night at Gyrum or Jarrow, the second at Belinghum, the third at Inghala, now Ellingham; and now preparing to pass over to the island, at the approach of night, they found the tide at height, and the sea, which flows over the neck, in width about half a league, which intersects Lindisfarn from the main land, was then impassable. The Saint's bones rested a very short time; for on the re-establishment of peace, on the 8th of April, , the sacred remains were restored to the church of Durham, where they have since rested, and will rest for ages.
Aidan, who founded the monastery; the rest being carried away by Colmannus into Scotland. Aidan 's monastery at its foundation was under the government of the Bishops, and his Ecclesiastics, of the cathedral Clergy. In the year , this island suffered greatly by the ravages of war. In the treaty entered into by King Stephen with David I.
Andrew in Hexhamshire. William on the 18th of October, A. We continued upon the island so long, in reviewing these venerable remains, as almost to forget we had yet to visit many scenes in this county, as worthy the observation of the Antiquarian and Traveller, as those present to us: and we calculated our departure so ill, that the tide had begun to return, before we entered upon the sands. We thought ourselves secure indeed against all dangers, by having a Farmer from the neighbouring shore for our guide, who had brought over butter that morning for the inhabitants. The tide approached in a singular manner, not flowing forward in waves, but the water increased imperceptably, by oozing through the sands.
At first the passage seemed a tract of wet sand, but presently it became a shining plain of level water, unruffled by any influx, reflecting in the most beautiful manner the variegated landskips of the adjoining shores. Our guide rode upon one of those methodical beasts, which keeps up an invariable motion with a kind of mechanical exactness, in spite of every approaching emergency.
We expressed our anxiety at the increasing waters, yet not daring to leave our guide, on account of the intercepting gullies, and the apprehension of quicksands, of the situation and nature of which we were totally ignorant. He was unaltered, except in his dialogue, which now was filled with the circumstances of a late Traveller's death, who perished in the passage, wandering on the sands till he could not extricate himself from the surrounding floods.
I wish to prevent strangers engaging in so disagreeable a project, tho' ours was attended with no other circumstances than anxiety and impatiency of mind; yet had we attempted to make this passage without a guide, it is impossible to determine what would have been our lot. Here is an old tower, memorable for being the place where King Henry II. This is an ancient mansion of the family of Haggerstons, whose possession we find recorded in the escheats of King Edward I.
Two mounts are seen from it, which appear to be out-posts, and not Tumuli as some writers have conjectured. To the westward is another intrenchment, which forms a crescent, and seems not to be the work of the same people who had constructed the former fortifications. It is defended by a triple ditch and vallum, the interior vallum composed of uncemented stones, as was the British custom. This commands a look-out to sea, and has in view the castles of Bambrough and Holy Island. It was forfeited on the attainder of its late owner, Lord Derwentwater, and now makes a part of the appropriations of Greenwich Hospital.
Many of the buildings stand on the very brink of the rocks, to the land side: the aspect towards the sea is very lofty, being near perpendicular feet above the level of low water mark. The gate-way is strengthened by a round tower on each side, from whence passing about 12 paces, which space appears to have been formerly a covered way, you approach a second and machicolated gate, of a much more modern order of building, having a port-culice. After you have passed the second gate, on the left hand, on a lofty point of the rock, stands a very ancient round tower, of great strength, commanding the pass.
Part of the present ruins are by some supposed to be the remains of King Ida's work. The round tower I have noted is different in all those matters, from the greatest part of the works; and it is to a common observer marked with much greater antiquity than the Keep or main tower, which I shall next describe. The Keep or chief tower of this fortress is a lofty square structure, of the same model with many Norman fortresses founded in or near the time of the Conqueror; it stands on the crown of the rock, having an open area round it, but most extensive towards the north and north-east points.
Mr Wallis says, that from the stile of the architecture of its base, being of the Doric order, it is believed to be of Roman work. He adds, that it is well known the Saxons erected their castles when they could on Roman foundations, and gave them the name of Burg or Brough. It is very probable the Romans held this part of the country, to be of singular importance to their navy; but that they built castles here, is not by any means admissible.
They might erect small towers, like those whose remains appear on the wall of Severus, on places of special import. The remains of the Roman station are visible at many of those fortresses. In most of the places I have observed, the Roman works are retained as a platform or outward area, to the south sides of the castles. The scite of the Praetorium is to be traced in many, but without any other appearances, than of erections for domestic uses, not shewing a sufficient quantity of ruins, to give the least idea of a decayed castle. Mr Grose says, some assert the Keep to have been a Roman structure, for which supposition they give the following reasons; its great similarity to the Keep of Dover Castle, and the White Tower of London, both allowed to be Roman —the shape of its arches, which are either flat or semicircular—a Doric base round its bottom, and the great depth of its well, sunk 75 feet, through a whinstone rock.
Nor is the proof drawn from the shape of its arches more conclusive; semicircular and flat arches are found in almost every building erected before the time of King Henry II. One instance of this, among many, may be seen at the cathedral of Canterbury, where a massive column, placed in the under-croft, to support some vast weight, has a rude sort of Ionic capital. Besides it is well known most of the architects of those days learned their art at Rome, where they had the Graecian architecture continually before them; of which indeed the Saxon was only a debased kind. After the stupendous works carried on by our Norman ancestors, it seems extraordinary, that the digging of the above-mentioned well should appear so arduous an undertaking, as to be deemed possible to the Romans only.
Besides, in Beeston Castle, Cheshire, there is a well full as deep, cut through the solid rock: and that is universally known to be the work of the Normans. The following remarks, extracted from the same work, will not be unacceptable to the reader: The stones with which the Keep or great tower is built, are remarkably small, and were taken from a quarry three miles distant. From their smallness it has been conjectured they were brought hither on the backs of men or horses. The walls to the front are 11 feet thick, but the other three sides are only nine.
The original roof was placed no higher than the top of the second story. The tower was however afterwards covered at the top. Here were no chimneys, the only fire place in it was a grate in the middle of a large room, supposed to have been the guard room, where some stones in the middle of the floor are burned red.
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