The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Every-Day Book and Table Book, Vol. III, by William Hone.

Most of these my own birds do. Several strains have been known of the linnet, the best of which I believe was Wilder’s.

The method of raising is this. Get a good bird—as soon as nestlings can be had, purchase four, or even six; put them in a large cage, and feed them with boiled or scalded rape-seed, mixed with bread. This will do till about three weeks old; then throw in dry seed, rape, flax, and canary, bruised; they will pick it up, and so be weaned from the moist food. You may then cage them off in back-cages, and hang them under the old ones.

If you do not want the trouble of feeding them, buy them at a shop about a month old, when they are able to crack the seed. Some persons prefer branchers to nestlings; these are birds caught about July. When they are just able to fly among the trees, they are in some cases better than the others; and invariably so, if they take your old bird’s song, being stronger and steadier. Nestlings lose half their time in playing about the cage.

As two heads are said to be better than one, so are two birds, therefore he who wants to raise a strain, should get two good ones, about the end of May—stop one of them. This is done by putting your cage in a box, just big enough to hold it, having a door in front to pull up. Some have a glass in the door to enable them to see the birds; others keep them in total darkness, only opening their prison to give them food and water. The common way is to put the cage in the box, and close the door, by a little at a time, daily, keeping it in a warm place. This is a brutal practice, which I have never subscribed to, nor ever shall; yet it does improve the bird, both in feather and song. By the time he has “moulted off,” the other bird will “come in” stout, and your young ones will take from him; thus you will obtain good birds.

To render your birds tame, and free in song, move them about; tie them in handkerchiefs, and put them on the table, or any where that you safely can; only let their usual place of hanging be out of sight of each other. Their seeing one another makes them fretful. To prevent this, have tin covers over their water-pots.

The man who keeps birds should pay attention to them: they cannot speak, but their motions will often tell him that something is wrong; and it will then be his business to discover what. He who confines birds and neglects them, deserves to be confined himself; they merit all we can do for them, and are grateful. What a fluttering of wings—what a stretching of necks and legs—what tappings with the bill against the wires of their cages have I heard, when coming down to breakfast; what a burst of song—as much as to say, “Here’s master!”

Should any one be induced, from this perusal, to become a fancier, let him be careful with whom, and how he deals, or he will assuredly be taken in. In choosing a bird, let him see that it stands up on its perch boldly; let it be snake-headed, its feathers smooth and sleek, its temper good; this you may know by the state of its tail: a bad-tempered bird generally rubs his tail down to a mere bunch of rags. Hear the bird sing; and be sure to keep the seller at a distance from him; a motion of his master’s hand, a turn of his head, may stop a bird when about to do something bad. Let him “go through” with his song uninterrupted; you will then discover his faults.

In this dissertation (if it may be so called) I have merely given what has come under my own observation; others, who are partial to linnets, are invited to convey, through the same medium, their knowledge, theoretical and practical, on the subject.

Foundation of the
LONDON UNIVERSITY.

On Monday, the 30th of April, 1827, his royal highness the duke of Sussex laid the foundation-stone of the London University. The spot selected for the building is situated at the end of Gower-street, and comprehends a very extensive piece of ground. The adjacent streets were crowded with passengers and carriages moving towards the place. The day was one of the finest of this fine season. The visiters, who were admitted by cards, were conducted to an elevated platform, which was so much inclined, that the most distant spectator could readily see every particular of the ceremony. Immediately before this platform, and at about three yards distant from it, was another, upon which the foundation-stone was placed. The persons admitted were upwards of two thousand, the greatest proportion composed of well-dressed ladies. Every house in the neighbourhood, which afforded the smallest opportunity of witnessing the operations, was crowded from the windows to the roof; and even many windows in Gower-street, from which no view of the scene could be any way obtained, were filled with company. At a quarter past three o’clock, the duke of Sussex arrived upon the ground, and was greeted by the acclamations of the people both inside and outside the paling. When he descended from his carriage, the band of the third regiment of foot-guards, which had been upon the ground some time before, playing occasional airs, struck up “God save the king.” The royal duke, attended by the committee and stewards, went in procession to the platform, upon which the foundation-stone was deposited. The stone had been cut exactly in two, and in the lower half was a rectangular hollow, to receive the medals and coins, and an inscription engraved upon a copper-plate:—

DEO OPT. MAX.
SEMPITERNO ORBIS ARCHITECTO
FAVENTE
QVOD FELIX FAVSTVM QVE SIT
OCTAVVM REGNI ANNVM INEVNTE
GEORGIO QVARTO BRITANNIARVM
REGE
CELSISSIMVS PRINCEPS AVGVSTVS FREDERICVS
SUSSEXIAE DVX
OMNIVM BONARVM ARTIVM PATRONVS
ANTIQVISSIMI ORDINIS ARCHITECTONICI
PRAESES APVD ANGLOS SVMMVS
PRIMVM LONDINENSIS ACADEMIAE LAPIDEM
INTER CIVIVM ET FRATRVM
CIRCVMSTANTIVM PLAVSVS
MANV SVA LOCAVIT
PRID. KAL. MAII.
OPVS
DIV MVLTVM QVE DESIDERATVM
VRBI PATRIAE COMMODISSIMVM
TANDEM ALIQVANDO INCHOATVM EST
ANNO SALVTIS HVMANAE
MDCCCXXVII
ANNO LVCIS NOSTRAE
MMMMMDCCCXXVII.
NOMINA CLARISSIMORVM VIRORVM
QVI SVNT E CONCILIO
HENRICVS DVX NORFOLCIAE
HENRICVS MARCHIO DE LANSDOWN
DOMINVS IOANNES RVSSELL
IOANNES VICECOMES DVDLEY ET WARD
GEORGIVS BARO DE AVCKLAND
HONORABILIS IAC. ABERCROMBIE IACOBVS MACINTOSH EQVES

After this inscription had been read, the upper part of the stone was raised by the help of pullies, and his royal highness having received the coins, medals, and inscription, deposited them in the hollow formed for their reception. The two parts of the stone were then fastened together, and the whole was lifted from the ground. A bed of mortar was next laid upon the ground by the workmen, and his royal highness added more, which he took from a silver plate, and afterwards smoothed the whole with a golden trowel, upon which were inscribed the following words:—“With this trowel was laid the first stone of the London University, by his royal highness Augustus duke of Sussex, on the 30th of April, 1827. William Wilkins, architect; Messrs. Lee and Co., builders.” The stone was then gradually lowered amidst the cheers of the assembly, the band playing “God save the king.” His royal highness, after having proved the stone with a perpendicular, struck it three times with a mallet, at the same time saying, “May God bless this undertaking which we have so happily commenced, and make it prosper for the honour, happiness, and glory, not only of the metropolis, but of the whole country.”

An oration was then delivered by the Rev. Dr. Maltby, in which he offered up a prayer to the Almighty in behalf of the proposed University.

Dr. Lushington stated, that he had been chosen by the committee as the organ of their opinions. He remarked that the London University must effect good. The clouds of ignorance had passed away, and the sun had broken forth and dispelled the darkness which had hitherto prevailed. No man dared now to assert that the blessings of education should not be extended to every, even the lowest, of his majesty’s subjects. He then expatiated on the advantages which were likely to arise from the establishment of a London University, and especially on its admission of Dissenters, who were excluded from the two great Universities. He concluded by passing an eloquent compliment upon the public conduct of the duke of Sussex, who, attached to no party, was a friend to liberality, and promoted by his encouragement any efforts of the subjects of this realm, whatever their political opinions, if their motives were proper and praiseworthy.

The duke of Sussex acknowledged the compliments paid to him, and stated, that the proudest day of his life was that upon which he had laid the first stone of the London University, surrounded as he was by gentlemen of as high rank, fortune, and character, as any in the kingdom. He was quite convinced that the undertaking must be productive of good. It would excite the old Universities to fresh exertions, and force them to reform abuses. His royal highness concluded, amidst the cheers of the assembly, by repeating that the present was the happiest day of his life.

His royal highness and the committee then left the platform, and the spectators dispersed, highly gratified with the exhibition of the day.

In the evening, the friends and subscribers to the new University dined together, in the Freemasons’ Hall. On no previous occasion of a similar nature was that room so crowded; upwards of 420 persons sat down to table, with his royal highness the duke of Sussex in the chair.

The next toast was “The Duke of Clarence, the Lord High Admiral of England,” and the rest of the royal family. As soon as the royal chairman, in proposing the above toast, stated the title of the new office held by his royal brother, the room rang with acclamations.

The duke of Norfolk then proposed the health of his royal highness the duke of Sussex, who, he said, had added to the illustrious title which he inherited by birth, that of the friend of the arts, and the patron of every liberal institution in the metropolis. (Cheers.)

His Royal Highness said, that he received what his noble friend had been pleased to say of him, more as an admonition than as a compliment, because it brought to his recollection the principles on which his family was seated on the throne of this country. He was rejoiced at every circumstance which occurred to refresh his memory on that subject, and never felt so happy as when he had an opportunity of proving by acts, rather than professions, how great was his attachment to the cause of liberty and the diffusion of knowledge. (Cheers.) He repeated what he had stated in the morning, that the University of London had been undertaken with no feelings of jealousy or ill-will towards the two great English Universities already existing, but only to supply a deficiency, which was notoriously felt, and had been created by changes in circumstances and time since the foundation of those two great seminaries of learning. He concluded by once more repeating, that he had never felt more proud in his life than when he was laying the foundation-stone of the new University in the presence of some of the most honest and enlightened men of whom this country could boast. (Applause.) He then proposed “Prosperity to the University of London,” which was drunk with three times three, and loud applause.

Mr. Brougham rose amidst the most vehement expressions of approbation. He rose, he said, in acquiescence to the command imposed upon him by the council, to return thanks to the royal chairman for the kind and cordial manner in which he had been pleased to express himself towards the new University, and also to the company present for the very gratifying manner in which they had received the mention of the toast. The task had been imposed upon him, God knew, not from any supposed peculiar fitness on his part to execute it, but from a well-grounded recollection that he was amongst the earliest and most zealous promoters of the good work they were met to celebrate. Two years had not elapsed since he had the happiness of attending a meeting, at which, peradventure, a great proportion of those whom he was now addressing were present, for the purpose of promoting the foundation of the new University, held in the middle of the city of London, the cradle of all our great establishments, and of the civil and religious liberties of this land; the place where those liberties had first been nurtured; near the spot where they had been watered by the most precious blood of the noblest citizens; and he much deceived himself if the institution, the foundation of which they had met to celebrate, was not destined, with the blessing of Divine Providence, to have an extensive influence in rendering the liberties to which he had before alluded, eternal in England, and to spread the light of knowledge over the world. (Cheers.) On the day which he had referred to, the circumstances under which he spoke were very different from those which now surrounded him. The advocates of the University had then to endure the sneers of some, the more open taunts and jibes of others, accompanied with the timidly expressed hopes of many friends, and the ardent good wishes and fond expectations of a large body of enlightened men, balanced however by the loudly expressed and deep execrations of the enemies of human improvement, light, and liberty, throughout the world. (Applause.) Now, however, the early clouds and mists which had hung over the undertaking had disappeared, and the friends of the new University had succeeded in raising the standard of the establishment in triumph over its defeated enemies—they had succeeded in laying the foundation of the University, amidst the plaudits of surrounding thousands, accompanied by the good wishes of their kind in every corner of the globe. (Cheers.) The council had come to a fixed resolution that in the selection of teachers for the University, no such phrase as “candidate” for votes should ever be used in their presence. The appointments would be given to those who were found most worthy; and if the merits, however little known, should be found to surpass those of others the most celebrated, only in the same proportion as the dust which turned the balance, the former would certainly be preferred. Instead of teaching only four or five, or at the utmost six months in the year, it was intended that the lectures at the new University should continue nine months in the year. After each lecture, the lecturer would devote an hour to examining, in turn, each of the pupils, to ascertain whether he had understood the subject of his discourse. The lecturer would then apply another hour, three times in the week, if not six, (the subject was under consideration,) to the further instruction of such of his pupils as displayed particular zeal in the search of knowledge. By such means, it was hoped that the pupils might not only be encouraged to learn what was already known, but to dash into untried paths, and become discoverers themselves. (Applause.) The honourable and learned gentleman then proceeded, in a strain of peculiar eloquence, to defend himself from a charge which had been made against him, of being inimical to the two great English Universities, which he designated the two lights and glories of literature and science. Was it to be supposed that because he had had the misfortune not to be educated in the sacred haunts of the muses on the Cam or the Isis, that he would, like the animal, declare the fruit which was beyond his reach to be sour? He hoped that those two celebrated seats of learning would continue to flourish as heretofore, and he would be the last person in the world to do any thing which could tend to impair their glory. The honourable and learned gentleman said, he would conclude by repeating the lines from one of our sweetest minstrels, which he had before quoted in reference to the undertaking which they had assembled to support. He then quoted the passage prophetically—now it was applicable as a description of past events:—

“As some tall cliff that lifts its awful form,
Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm;
Though round its breast the rolling clouds are spread,
Eternal sunshine settles on its head.”

The Royal Chairman then proposed “The Marquis of Lansdown, and the University of Cambridge,” which was drank with great applause.

The Marquis of Lansdown, on rising, was received with loud cheers. He felt himself highly honoured, he said, in having his name coupled with the University in which he had received his education. He felt the greatest veneration for that institution, and he considered it by no means inconsistent with that feeling to express the most ardent wishes for the prosperity of the new University. (Applause.) He was persuaded that the extension of science in one quarter could not be prejudicial to its cultivation in another. (Applause.)

“The Royal Society” was next drank, then “Prosperity to the City of London,” and Mr. Alderman Venables returned thanks.

“Prosperity to the City of Westminster” being drank, Mr. Hobhouse returned thanks.

Amongst the other toasts were “Prosperity to the Universities of Scotland and Ireland;” “Henry Brougham, Esq., and the Society for the Promotion of Useful Knowledge;” “The Duke of Norfolk;” “The Mechanics’ Institution,” &c.

Syr Delaballe ande the Moncke.
A LEGENDE OFFE TINMOUTHE PRIORIE.

Quahat want ye, quahat want ye thoue jollie fryare,
Sayde Syr Delavalles Wardoure brave;
Quahat lack ye, quahat lack ye, thoue jollie fryare;—
———Saythe—Openne ye portalle, knave,
Three wearye legues fro ye Pryorye
Ive com synne ye sonne hathe smylde onne ye sea.

Nowe naye, nowe naye, thoue halie fryare,
I maie notte lett ye ynne;
Syr Delavalles moode ys notte forre ye Roode,
Ande hee cares nott toe shryve hys synne;
And schoulde hee retorne quithe hys hoonde and horne,
Hee will gare thye haliness rynne.

Forre Chryste hys sak nowe saie nott naie,
Botte openne ye portalle toe mee;
Ande I wylle donne a ryche benyzonne
Forre thye gentlesse ande cortesye:—
Bye Masse ande bye Roode gyffe thys boone ys quithstoode,
Thoue shalte perryshe bye sorcerie.

Y’enne quycklie ye portalle wals opennd wyde,
Syr Delavalles hal wals made free,
Ande ye table wals spredde forre ye fryare quithe spede,
Ande he fesstedde ryghte plentyfullie:
Dydde a fryare wyghte everre lack off myghte
Quhenne hee token chepe hostelrye?

Ande ye fryare hee ate, ande ye fryare hee dronke,
Tylle ye cellarmonne wonderred fulle sore;
And hee wysh’d hymm atte home att Saynte Oswynnes tombe,[177]
Quithe hys relyckes ande myssall lore:
Botte ye fryare hee ate offe ye vensonne mete,
Ande ye fryare hee dronke ye more.

Nowe thys daie wals a daie off wassell keppt,
Syr Delavalles byrthe daie I weene,
And monnie a knycghte ande ladye bryghte,
Ynne Syr Delavalles castell wals seene;
Botte synne ye sunne onne ye blue sea schonne.
They’d huntedd ye woodes sae greene.

And ryche and rare wals ye feste prepardde
Forre ye knycghtes ande ladyes gaie;
Ande ye fyelde ande ye floode baythe yyeldedd yere broode
Toe grace ye festalle daie;
And ye wynnes fro Espagne wyche longe hadde layne,
And spyces fro farre Cathaye.

Botte fyrst ande fayrest offe al ye feste,
Bye Syr Delavalle pryzd moste dere,
A fatte boare rostedde ynn seemlye gyze,
Toe grace hys lordlye chere:
Ye reke fro ye fyre sore hongerdde ye fryare,
Ynne spyte of refectynge gere.

Ande thuss thoughte ye fryare als he sate,
Y’sse Boare ys ryghte savourie;
I wot tys noe synn ytts hede toe wynne,
Gyffe I mote ryghte cunnynglie;
Ysse goddelesse knycghte ys ane churche hatynge wyghte,
Toe fylche hymme ne knaverie.

Quithe yatt hee toke hys lethernne poke,
Ande whettedde hys knyfe soe shene,
Ande hee patyentlye sate atte ye kytchenne yate
Tyll ne villeins quehere thyther seene;
Yenne quithe meikle drede cutte offe ye boares hede.
Als thoe ytte nevere hadde beene.

Yenne ye fryare hee nymblie footedde ye swerde,
Ande bente hym toe halie pyle;
Forre ance quithynne yttes sacredde shrynne,
Hee’d loucgche and joke atte hys guyle;
Botte hie thee faste quithe thye outmoste haste,
Forre thye gate ys monnie a myle.

Nowe Chryste ye save, quehene ye vylleins sawe.
Ye boare quithouten ye hede,
They wyst ande grie yatte wytcherie
Hadde donne ye featouse dede
Ynne sore dystraughte ye fryare they soucghte,
Toe helpe y’em ynne yere nede.

Theye soucghte and soucghte ande lang theye soucghte,
Ne fryare ne hede cold fynde,
Forre fryare ande hede farre oer ye mede,
Were scuddynge ytte lyk ye wynde:
Botte haste, botte haste, thoue jollie fryare,
Quehere boltt and barre wylle bynde.

Ye sunne wals hyghe yane hys journeye flyghte,
Ande homewarde ye fysher bote rowedde,[178]
Quehenne ye deepe soundynge horne shoudde Syr Delavalles retorne,
Quithe hys knychtes ande ladyes proude:
Ye bagpypes y’sonde ande ye jeste went ronde,
Ande revelrye merrye ande loude.

Botte meikle, botte meikle wals ye rage,
Offe ye hoste and compagnie,
Quehenne ye tale wals tolde offe ye dede soe bolde,
Quilke wals layde toe wytcherie:
Ande howe ynne destraucghte ye moncke they soucghte,
Ye moneke offe ye Pryorie.

Now rycghtlie y wyss Syr Delavalle knewe,
Quehenne tould of ye fryare knave;
Bye mye knycghthoode I vowe hee schalle derelye rue,
Thys trycke hee thoucghte soe brave;
Ande awaie flewe ye knycghte, lyk are egle’s flychte,
Oere ye sandes of ye northerne wave.

Ande faste and faste Syr Delavalle rodde,
Tylle ye Pryorie yate wals ynne vyewe,
Ande ye knycghte wals awar offe a fryare talle,
Quithe ane loke baythe tiredde ande grewe,
Who quithe rapydde spanne oerre ye grene swerde ranne,
Ye wrathe offe ye knycghte toe eschewe.

Botte staie, botte staie, thou fryare knave,
Botte staie ande shewe toe mee,
Quatte thoue haste ynne yatte leatherne poke,
Quilke thoue mayest carrie soe hie,
Now Chryste ye save, sayde ye fryare knave,
Fire-botte forre ye Pryorie.

Thoue lyest! thoue lyest! thoue knavyshe preste,
Thoue lyest untoe mee,
Ye knycghte hee toke ye leatherne poke,
Ande hys boare’s hede dydde espie,
And stylle ye reke fro ye scotchedde cheke,
Dydde seeme rychte savourie.

Goddeswotte! botte hadde ye seene ye fryare,
Quithe his skynne of lividde hue,
Quehenne ye knycghte drewe outte ye rekynge snoutte,
Ande floryshodde hys huntynge thewe;
Gramercye, gramercye, nowe godde Syr Knycghte,
Als ye Vyrgynne wylle mercye schewe.

Botte ye knycghte hee bangedde ye fryare aboutte,
Ande bette hys backe fulle sore;
And hee bette hym als hee rolledde onne ye swerde,
Tylle ye fryare dydde loudlie roare:
Ne mote hee spare ye fryare maire,
Y’anne Mahounde onne easterene shore.[179]

Nowe tak ye yatte ye dogge offe ane moncke,
Nowe tak ye yatte fro mee;
Ande awaie rodde ye knycghte, ynne grete delycghte,
Atte hys fete offe flagellrie;
Ande ye sands dydde resounde toe hys chevalx boundde,[180]
Als hee rodde nere ye mergynnedde sea.

Botte whaes yatte hyghes fro ye Pryorie yatte,
Quithe a crosse soe halie ande talle,
Ande offe monckes a crowde al yelpynge lowde,
Atte quahatte mote ye fryare befalle;
Forre theye seene ye dede fra ye Pryorie hede,
Ande herde hym piteousse calle.

Ye fryare hee laye ynne sare distraucghte,
Al wrythynge ynne grymme dismaie,
Eche leeshedde wonnde spredde blode onne ye gronde,
And tyngedde ye daisie gaie:
Wae fa’ ye dede, ande yere laye ye hede,
Bothe reekynge als welle mote theye.

Ne worde hee spak, ne cryne colde mak,
Quehenne ye pryore cam breathlesse nyghe;
Botte ye teares y’ranne fro ye halie manne,
Als hee heavedde monie a syghe:
Y’nne ye pryore wals redde offe ye savourie hede,
Y’atte nere ye moncke dydde ly.

Y’enne theye bore ye moncke toe ye Pryorie yatte,
Ynne dolorousse steppe ande slowe,
They vengeannce vowdde, ynne curses loude,
Onne ye horsmanne wyghte I trowe;
Ye welkynne range wi yere yammerynges lange,
Als ye cam ye Pryorie toe.

A leache offe skylle, quithe meikle care.
Ande herbes ande conjurie,
Soone gav ye moncke hys wontedde sponke,
Forre hys quyppes ande knaverie;
Quehenne hee tould how ye knycghte, Syr Delavalle hyghte,
Hadde donne ye batterie.

Botte woe forre thys knycghte offe hyghe degre,
And greete als welle hee maie,
Forre ye fryare y’wot hee batteredde and bruysdde,
Toke ylle, als ye churchmenne saye,
Ande ys surelie dede quythouten remede,
Quithynne yere ande eke a daie.

Farewelle toe y’re landes, Syr Delavalle bolde,
Farewelle toe y’re castelles three,
Y’ere gonne fro thye heyre, tho greiveste thoue saire
Y’ere gonne toe ye Pryorie;
Ande thoue moste thole a wollennne stole,
Ande lacke thye libertie—

Three lange lange yeres ynne dolefulle gyze,
Ynne Tynemouthe Abbie praie,
And monie a masse toe hevenwerde passe,
Forre ye fryare yatte thou dyddst slaye:
Thoue mayest loke oere ye sea ande wyshe toe bee free,
Botte ye pryore offe Tynemouthe saythe naye.

Quehenne thoue haste spente three lange lange yeres
Toe ye halie londe thoue moste hie,
Thye falchyonne wyelde onne ye battelled fyelde,
Gaynste ye paynimme chevalrie;
Three crescentes bryghte moste thoue wynne ynne fyghte,
Ere thoue wynnste thye dere countrie.

Ande onne ye spotte quehere ye ruthless dede
Ystayndde ye medowe grene,
Al fayre toe see ynne masonrie,
Als talle als ane oakenne treene,
Thoue moste sette a stonne quithe a legende thereonne,
Yatte ye murtherre yere hadde beene.

Ye masses maiste gryevedde Syr Delavalle sore,
Botte praye he moste ande maye,
Hee thrummelldde hys bede, ande bente hys hede,
Thoroughe ye nyhte ande thoroughe ye daye,
Tylle ye three yeres oerre, hee lepte toe ye shore,
Ande cryedde toe ye battelle awaye!

Hee doffedde hys stole offe woolenne coorse,
Ande donnde ynne knycghtlye pryde,
Hys blade ande cuirasse, ande sayde ne mo masse,
Quehyle hee crossedde ye byllowye tyd:
Ne candle, ne roode, botte ye fyghtynge moode,
Wals ye moode offe ye borderre syde.

Soone soone myddst ye foes offe ye halie londe,
Quehere ye launces thyckestte grewe,
Wals Syr Delavalle seene, quithe hys brande soe kene,
Onne hys stede soe stronge ande trewe;
Ye Pagannes they felle, ande passdde toe helle,
Ande hee monie a Saracenne slewe.

Ande hee soone fra ye rankes offe Saladynne bore
Three crescentes off sylverre sheene,
Ne paganne knycghte mote quithestonde hys myghte,
Who foughtenne forre wyffe and wene;
Saincte George, cryedde ye knycghte, ande Englande’s myghte,
Orre a bedde nethe ye hyllocke grene.

Gallantlye rodde Syr Delavalle onne
Quehere lethal woundes were gyvenne,
Ande ye onnesettes brave, lyk a swepynge wave,
Rolldde ye warriors off Chryste toe hevene:
Botte forre eche halie knycghte y’ slayne ynne fyghte,
A hondredde fals hertes were ryvenne.

Nowe brave Syr Delavalles penaunce wals donne,
Hee hamewerde soughtenne hys waie;
Fro ye battel playne acrosse ye mayne,
Toe fayre Englonndes wellcom baie;
Toe see hys lone bryde, toe ye northe hee hyedde,
Quithoutenne stoppe orr staye.

*****

Ance maire ys merrye ye borderre londe,
Harke thoroughe ye myddnyghte gale,
Ye bagpypes agayne playe a wasselle strayne,
Ronde ronde flees ye joyaunce tale:
Monie a joke offe ye fryares poke
Ys passedde oerre hylle ande dale.

Ye Ladye Delavalle ance matre smylde,
Ande sange tylle herre wene onne herre knee,
Ande pryedde herre knycghte ynne fonde delyghte,
Quihile hee helde herre lovynglye:
Ne gryevedde hee maire offe hys dolorres sayre,
Tho’ stryppedde offe londe ande ffee.

Atte Werkeworthe castelle, quilke proudlie lookes
Oerre ye stormie northernne mayne,
Ye Percye gretedde ye borderre knycghte,
Quithe hys merryeste mynstrelle strayne:
Throngedde wals ye hal, quithe nobles alle,
Toe wellcom ye knycghte agayne.

Nowe at thys daye quihile yeres rolle onne
Ande ye knycghte dothe cauldlie ly,
Ye stonne doth stande onne ye sylente londe
Toe tellen toe strangeres nyghe.
Yatte ane horrydde dede forre a pygge hys hede
Dydde y’ere toe hevenwerdde crye.

ON THE ABOVE LEGEND.

The legend of “Syr Delavalle and the Moncke” is “owre true a tale.” The stone syr Delavalle was compelled to erect in commemoration of this “horryd dede” is (or rather the shattered remains of its shaft are) still lying close to a neat farmhouse, called Monkhouse, supposed to be built on the identical spot on which the “flagellrie” was effected, and is often bent over by the devout lovers of monkish antiquity.

The poem was found amongst the papers of an ingenious friend, who took pleasure in collecting such rhymes; but as he has been dead many years, I have no means of ascertaining at what period it was written, or whether it was the original channel through which the story has come down to posterity. I have some confused recollection, that I heard it stated my friend got this, and several similar ballads, from a very old man who resided at a romantic village, at a short distance from Tynemouth Priory, called “Holywell.” It is possible that there may be some account of its source among my lamented friend’s papers, but as they are very multitudinous and in a confused mass, I have never had courage to look regularly through them. There are several other poems of the like description the labour of copying which I may be induced to undergo should I find that this is within the range of the Table Book.

Vol. I.—20.

On Chatham Hill.

This sketch, in the pocket-book of an artist, suddenly startled recollection to the April of my life—the season of sunshine hopes, and stormy fears—when each hour was a birth-time of thought, and every new scene was the birth-place of a new feeling. The drawing carried me back to an October morning in 1797, when I eagerly set off on an errand to Boughton-hill, near Canterbury, for the sake of seeing the country on that side of Chatham for the first time. The day was cloudy, with gales of wind. I reached Chatham-hill, and stood close to this sign, looking over the flood of the Medway to the Nore, intently peering for a further sea-view. Flashes of fire suddenly gleamed in the dim distance, and I heard the report of cannon. Until then, such sounds from the bosom of the watery element were unknown to me, and they came upon my ear with indescribable solemnity. We were at war with France; and supposing there was a battle between two fleets off the coast, my heart beat high; my thoughts were anxious, and my eyes strained with the hope of catching something of the scene I imagined. The firing was from the fleet at the Nore, in expectation of a royal review. The king was then proceeding from Greenwich to Sheerness, in the royal yacht, attended by the lords of the admiralty, to go on board the Dutch ships captured by lord Duncan, at the battle of Camperdown.[181] On my return to Chatham, the sign of “the Star” was surrounded by sailors, who, with their shipmates inside the house, were drinking grog out of pewter-pots and earthen basins, and vociferating “Rule Britannia.”

The following year, on the evening of a glorious summer’s day, I found refuge in this house from the greatest storm I had then seen. It came with gusts of wind and peals of thunder from the sea. Standing at the bow-window, I watched the lightning sheeting the horizon, making visible the buried objects in the black gloom, and forking fearfully down, while the rain fell in torrents, and the trees bent before the furious tempest like rushes. The elements quickly ceased their strife, the moon broke out, and in a few minutes there was

Foundation of the LONDON UNIVERSITY.

Syr Delaballe ande the Moncke. A LEGENDE OFFE TINMOUTHE PRIORIE.

ON THE ABOVE LEGEND.

Vol. I.—20.

On Chatham Hill.

Foundation of the
LONDON UNIVERSITY.

Syr Delaballe ande the Moncke.
A LEGENDE OFFE TINMOUTHE PRIORIE.