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"The event, on which this tale is founded, is preserved by tradition in the family of the Vaughans of Hengwyrt; nor is it entirely lost, even among the common people, who still point out this oak to the passenger. The enmity between the two Welsh chieftains, Howel Sole, and Owen Glendwr, was extreme, and marked by vile treachery in the one, and ferocious cruey in the other. The story is somewhat changed and softened, as more favourable to the character of the two chiefs, and as better answering the purpose of poetry, by admitting the passion of pity, and a greater degree of sentiment in the description. Some trace of Howel Sele's mansion was to be seen a few years ago, and may perhaps be still visible, in the park of Nannau, now belonging to Sir Robert Vaughan, Baronet, in the wild and romantic tracks of Merionethshire. The abbey mentioned passes under two names, Vener and Cymmer. The former is retained, as more generally used.

THE SPIRIT'S BLASTED TREE.

Ceubren yr Ellyll.

"Through Nannau's Chase, as Howel pass'd,
A chief esteem'd both brave and kind,
Far distant borne, the stag-hounds' cry
Came murmuring on the hollow wind.

"Starting, he bent an eager ear,

How should the sounds return again? His hounds lay wearied from the chase, And all at home his hunter train.

"Then sudden anger flashed his eye,

And deep revenge he vow'd to take, On that bold man who dared to force

His red-deer from the forest brake.

"Unhappy Chief! would nought avail, No signs impress thy heart with fear, Thy lady's dark mysterious dream,

Thy warning from the hoary seer?

"Three ravens gave the note of death,

As through mid air they wing'd their way; Then o'er his head, in rapid flight,

They croak,-they scent their destined prey.

"Ill-omen'd bird! as legends say,

Who hast the wondrous power to know, While health fills high the throbbing veins, The fated hour when blood must flow.

"Blinded by rage, alone he pass'd,

Nor sought his ready vassals' aid: But what his fate lay long unknown, For many an anxious year delay'd.

"A peasant mark'd his angry eye,

He saw him reach the lake's dark bourne,

He saw him near a Blasted Oak,

But never from that hour return.

"Three days pass'd o'er, no tidings came ;Where should the Chief his steps delay? With wild alarm the servants ran,

Yet knew not where to point their way.

"His vassals ranged the mountain's height, The covert close, the wide-spread plain;

But all in vain their eager search,

They ne'er must see their lord again.

The history of their feud may be found in Pennant's Tour in Wales

"Yet Fancy, in a thousand shapes,
Bore to his home the Chief once more:
Some saw him on high Moal's top,
Some saw him on the winding shore.

"With wonder fraught the tale went round, Amazement chain'd the hearer's tongue : Each peasant felt his own sad loss,

Yet fondly o'er the story hung.

"Oft by the moon's pale shadowy light, His aged nurse and steward grey Would lean to catch the storied sounds, Or mark the flitting spirit stray.

"Pale lights on Cader's rocks were seen, And midnight voices heard to moan; 'Twas even said the Blasted Oak, Convulsive, heaved a hollow groan:

"And to this day the peasant still,

With cautious fear, avoids the ground: In each wild branch a spectre sees, And trembles at each rising sound.

"Ten annual suna had held their coureo, In summer's smile, or winter storm;

The lady shed the widow'd tear,
As oft she traced his manly form.

"Yet still to hope her heart would cling, As o'er the mind illusions play,

Of travel fond, perhaps her lord,

To distant lands had steer'd his way.

"'Twas now November's cheerless hour, Which drenching rain and clouds deface, Dreary bleak Robell's tract appear'd,

And dull and dank each valley's space.

"Loud o'er the weir the hoarse flood fell,
And dash'd the foaming spray on high;
The west wind bent the forest tops,
And angry frown'd the evening sky.

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"A stranger pass'd Llanelltid's bourne, His dark-grey steed with sweat besprent Which, wearied with the lengthen'd way, Could scarcely gain the hill's ascent.

"The portal reach'd,-the iron bell

Loud sounded round the outward wall; Quick sprang the warder to the gate,

To know what meant the clam'rous call.

"O! lead me to your lady soon; Say, it is my sad lot to tell,

To clear the fate of that brave knight, She long has proved she loved so well.'

"Then, as he cross'd the spacious hall,
The menials look surprise and fear;
Still o'er his harp old Modred hung,
And touch'd the notes for grief's worn ear,

"The lady sat amidst her train;

A mellow'd sorrow mark'd her look: Then, asking what his mission meant, The graceful stranger sighed and spoke

"O could I spread one ray of hope, One moment raise thy soul from woe

Gladly my tongue would tell its tale, My words at case unfetter'd flow!

"Now, lady, give attention duc,

The story claims thy full belief: E'en in the worst events of life,

Suspense removed is some relief.

"Though worn by care, see Madoc here, Great Glyndwr's friend, thy kindred's foc Ah, let his name no anger raise,

For now that mighty Chief lies low.

"E'en from the day, when, chain'd by fate, By wizard's dream, or potent spell, Lingering from sad Salopia's field, 'Reft of his aid the Percy fell;

"E'en from that day misfortune still, As if for violated faith, Pursued him with unwearied step;

Vindictive still for Hotspur's death.

“‘Vanquish'd at length, the Glyndwr fled, Where winds the Wye her devious flood; To find a casual shelter there,

In some lone cot, or desert wood.

"Clothed in a shepherd's humble guise,
He gain'd by toil his scanty bread;
He who had Cambria's sceptre borne,
And her brave sons to glory led!

""To penury extreme, and grief,

The Chieftain fell a lingering prey;

I heard his last few faltering words, Such as with pain I now convey.

"To Sele's sad widow bear the tale, Nor let our horrid secret rest; Give but his corse to sacred earth,

Then may my parting soul be blest.'

"Dim wax'd the eye that fiercely shone, And faint the tongue that proudly spoke, And weak that arm, still raised to me, Which oft had dealt the mortal stroke.

"How could I then his mandate bear? Or how his last behest obey? A rebel deem'd, with him I filed; With him I shunn'd the light of day. "Proscribed by Henry's hostile rage, My country lost, despoil'd my land, Desperate, I fled my native soil,

And fought on Syria's distant strand.

"Oh, had thy long-lamented lord The holy cross and banner view'd, Died in the sacred cause! who fell Sad victim of a private feud!

"Led by the ardour of the chase,

Far distant from his own domain, From where Garthmaclan spreads her shades, The Glyndwr sought the opening plain.

"With head aloft and antlers wide,

A red buck roused then cross'd in view: Stung with the sight, and wild with rage, Swift from the wood fierce Howel tlew.

"With bitter taunt and keen reproach,

He, all impetuous, pour'd his rage; Reviled the Chief, as weak in arms, And bade him loud the battle wage.

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'Glyndwr for once restrain'd his sword, And, still averse, the fight delays; But soften'd words, like oil to fire, Made anger more intensely blaze.

"They fought; and doubtful long the fray The Glyndwr gave the fatal wound! Still mournful must my tale proceed, And its last act all dreadful sound. "How could we hope for wish'd retreat, His eager vassals ranging wide, His bloodhounds' keen sagacious scent, O'er many a trackless mountain tried. "I mark'd a broad and Blasted Oak, Scorch'd by the lightning's livid glare; Hollow its stem from branch to root,

And all its shrivell'd arms were bare.

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not absolutely malevolent, at least peevish, discontented, and apt to do mischief on slight provocation. The belief of their existence is deeply impressed on the Highlanders, who think they are particularly offended at mortals who talk of them, who wear their favourite colour green, or in any respect interfere with their affairs. This is especially to be avoided on Friday, when, whether as dedicated to Venus, with whom, in Germany, this subterraneous people are held nearly connected, or for a more solemn reason, they are more active, and possessed of greater power. Some curious particulars concerning the popular superstitions of the Highlanders may be found in Dr. Graham's Picturesque Sketches of Perthshire.

of the highest windows there, the resemblance of a woman arrayed in a shroud. Though we are certain this is only a reflection caused by the splendour of the sunbeams, yet fame reports it, and it is constantly believed among the vulgar, to be an appearance of Lady Hilda in her shroud, or rather in a glorified state; before which, I make no doubt, the Papists, even in these our days, offer up their prayers with as much zcal and devotion as before any other image of their most glorified saint."-CHARLTON'S History of Whitby, p. 33.

NOTE 4 I.

The lowers of Franchémont.-P. 130.

The journal of the friend to whom the Fourth Canto of the Poem is inscribed, furnished me with the following account of a striking superstition.

"Passed the pretty little village of Franchémont, (near Spaw), with the romantic ruins of the old castle of the Counts of that name. The road leads through many delightful vales on a rising ground; at the extremity of one of them stands the ancient castle, now the subject of many superstitious legends. It is firmly believed by the neighbouring peasantry, that the last Baron of Franchémont deposited, in one of the vaults of the castle, a ponderous chest, containing an immense treasure in gold and silver, which, by some magic spell, was intrusted to the care of the Devil, who is constantly found sitting on the chest in the shape of a Luntsman. Any one adventurous enough to touch the chest is instantly seized with the palsy. Upon one occasion, a priest of noted piety was brought to the vault: he used all the arts of exorcism to persuade his infernal majesty to vacate his seat, but in vain ; the huntsman remained immovable. At last, moved by the earnestness of the priest, he told him that he would agree to resign the chest, if the exorciser would sign his name with blood. But the priest understood his meaning, and refused, as by that act he would have delivered over his soul to the Devil. Yet if any body can discover the mystic words used by the person who deposited the treasure, and pronounce them, the fiend must instantly decamp. I had many stories of a similar nature from a peasant, who had himself seen the Devil in the shape of a great cat."

NOTE 4 K.

The very form of Hilda fair,
Hovering upon the sunny air,

And smiling on her votaries' prayer.—P. 132.

"I shall only produce one instance more of the great veneration paid to Lady Hilda, which still prevails even in these our days; and that is, the constant opinion that she rendered, and still renders, herself visible, on some occasions, in the Abbey of Streanshalh or Whitby, where she so long resided. At a particular time of the year (viz. in the summer months), at ten or eleven in the forenoon, the sunbeams fall in the inside of the northern part of the choir; and 'tis then that the spectators, who stand on the west side of Whitby churchyard, so as just to see the most northerly part of the abbey pass the north end of Whitby church, imagine they perceive. in one

NOTE 4 L.

the huge and sweeping brand Which wont of yore, in battle fray, His foeman's limbs to shred away,

As wood-knife lops the sapling spray.—P. 134.

The Earl of Angus had strength and personal activity cor. responding to his courage. Spens of Kilspindie, a favourite of James IV., having spoken of him lightly, the Earl met hin while hawking, and, compelling him to single combat, at one blow cut asunder his thighbone, and killed him on the spot. But ere he could obtain James's pardon for this slaughter, Angus was obliged to yield his castle of Hermitage, in exchange for that of Bothwell, which was some diminution to the family greatness. The sword with which he struck so remarkable a blow, was presented by his descendant James, Earl of Morton, afterwards Regent of Scotland, to Lord Lindesay of the Byres, when he defied Bothwell to single combat on Carberry Hill. See Introduction to the Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border.

NOTE 4 M.

And hopest thou hence unscathed to go ?—
No! by St. Bride of Bothwell, no!

Up drawbridge, grooms!-What, Warder, ho!
Let the portcullis fall.-P. 135.

This ebullition of violence in the potent Earl of Angus is not without its example in the real history of the house of Douglas, whose chieftains possessed the ferocity, with the heroic virtues of a savage state. The most curious instance occurred in the case of Maclellan, Tutor of Bombay, who, having refused to acknowledge the pre-eminence claimed by Douglas over the gentlemen and Barons of Galloway, was seized and imprisoned by the Earl, in his castle of the Thrieve, on the borders of Kirkcudbrightshire. Sir Patrick Gray, commander of King James the Second's guard, was uncle to the Tutor of Bombay, and obtained from the King a "sweet letter of supplication," praying the Earl to deliver his prisoner into Gray's hand. When Sir Patrick arrived at the castle, he was received with all the honour due to a favourite servant of the King's household; but while he was at dinner, the Earl, who suspected his errand, caused his prisoner to be led forth and beheaded. After dinner, Sir Patrick presented the King's letter to the Earl, who received it with great affectation of reverence; "and took him by the hand, and led him forth to the green, where the gentleman was lying dead, and showed him the manner, and said, 'Sir Patrick, you are come a little too late; yonder is your sister's son lying, but he wants the head: take his body, and do with it what you will.'—Sir Patrick answered again, with a sore heart, and said, 'My lord, if ye have taken from him his head, dispone upon the

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of the river in his front. But as the passage, both over the bridge and through the ford, was difficult and slow, it seems possible that the English might have been attacked to great advantage while struggling with these natural obstacles. I know not if we are to impute James's forbearance to want of military skill, or to the romantic declaration which Pitscottie puts in his mouth, "that he was determined to have his enemies before him on a plain field," and therefore would suffer no interruption to be given, even by artillery, to their passing

the river.

The ancient bridge of Twisel, by which the English crossed the Till, is still standing beneath Twisel Castle, a splendid pile of Gothic architecture, as now rebuilt by Sir Francis Blake, Bart., whose extensive plantations have so much improved the country around. The glen is romantic and delightful, with steep banks on each side, covered with copse, parti. cularly with hawthorn. Beneath a tall rock, near the bridge, is a plentiful fountain, called St. Helen's Well.

NOTE 4 N.

A letter forged !—Saint Jude to speed!
Did ever knight so foul a deed!-P. 135.

NOTE 4 Q.

Hence might they see the full array,

Of either host, for deadly fray.-P. 138.

Lest the reader should partake of the Earl's astonishment, and consider the crime as inconsistent with the manners of the period, I have to remind him of the numerous forgeries (partly executed by a female assistant) devised by Robert of Artois, to forward his suit against the Countess Matilda; which, being detected, occasioned his flight into England, and proved the remote cause of Edward the Third's memor- The reader cannot here expect a full account of the battle able wars in France. John Harding, also, was expressly of Flodden; but, so far as is necessary to understand the rohired by Edward VI. to forge such documents as might ap-mance, I beg to remind him, that, when the English army, by pear to establish the claim of fealty asserted over Scotland by the English monarchs.

NOTE 4 0.

Lennel's convent.-P. 136.

This was a Cistertian house of religion, now almost entirely demolished. Lennel House is now the residence of my venerable friend, Patrick Brydone, Esquire, so well known in the literary world. It is situated near Coldstream, almost oppoAfte to Cornhill, and consequently very near to Flodden Field.

NOTE 4 P.

Twisel bridge.-P. 136.

their skilful countermarch, were fairly placed between King James and his own country, the Scottish monarch resolved to fight; and, setting fire to his tents, descended from the ridge of Flodden to secure the neighbouring eminence of Brankstone, on which that village is built. Thus the two armies met, almost without seeing each other, when, according to the old poem of "Flodden Field,"

"The English line stretch'd east and west,
And southward were their faces set;
The Scottish northward proudly prest,

And manfully their foes they met."

The English army advanced in four divisions. On the right, which first engaged, were the sons of Earl Surrey, namely, Thomas Howard, the Admiral of England, and Sir Edmund, the Knight Marshal of the army. Their divisions were sepa. rated from each other; but, at the request of Sir Edmund, his brother's battalion was drawn very near to his own. The centre was commanded by Surrey in person; the left wing by Sir Edward Stanley, with the men of Lancashire, and of the palatinate of Chester. Lord Dacres, with a large body of horse, formed a reserve. When the smoke, which the wind had driven between the armies, was somewhat dispersed, they perceived the Scots, who had moved down the hill in a similar

On the evening previous to the memorable battle of Flodden, Surrey's head-quarters were at Barmoor Wood, and King James held an inaccessible position on the ridge of Flodden-order of battle, and in deep silence.2 The Earls of Huntley hill, one of the last and lowest eminences detached from the ridge of Cheviot. The Till, a deep and slow river, winded between the armies. On the morning of the 9th September 1513, Surrey marched in a north-westerly direction, and crossed the Till, with his van and artillery, at Twisel-bridge, nigh where that river joins the Tweed, his rear-guard column passing about a mile higher, by a ford. This movement had the double effect of placing his army between King James and nis supplies from Scotland, and of striking the Scottish monarch with surprise, as he seems to have relied on the depth

and of Home commanded their left wing, and charged Sir Edmund Howard with such success as entirely to defeat his part of the English right wing. Sir Edmund's banner was beaten down, and he himself escaped with difficulty to his brother's division. The Admiral, however, stood firm; and Dacre advancing to his support with the reserve of cavalry, probably between the interval of the divisions commanded by the brothers Howard, appears to have kept the victors in effectual check. Home's men, chiefly Borderers, began to pillage the baggage of both armies; and their leader is branded

1 First Edition.—Mr. Brydone has been many years dead. | ordre, en la manicre que marchent les Allemans sans parler, ne 1825. fuire aucun bruit.”—Gazette of the battle, PINKERTON'S HIS

24 Lesquelz Escossois descendirent la montaigne en bonne tory, Appendix, vol. ii. p. 456.

NOTE 4 S.

Reckless of life, he desperate fought,
And fell on Flodden plain :
And well in death his trusty brand,
Firm clench'd within his manly hand,
Beseem'd the monarch slain.-P. 142.

by the Scottish historians with negligence or treachery. On the other hand, Huntley, on whom they bestow many encomiums, is said by the English historians to have left the field after the first charge. Meanwhile the Admiral, whose filank these chiefs ought to have attacked, availed himself of their inactivity, and pushed forward against another large division of the Scottish army in his front, headed by the Earls of Crawford and Montrose, both of whom were slain, and their forces routed. On the left, the success of the English was yet more decisive; for the Scottish right wing, consisting of undisciplined Highlanders, commanded by Lennox and Argyle, was unable to sustain the charge of Sir Edward Stanley, and especially the severe exccu、n of the Lancashire archers. The King and Surrey, who commanded the respective centres of their armies, were meanwhile engaged in close and dubious conflict. James, surrounded by the flower of his kingdom, and Impatient of the galling discharge of arrows, supported also by his reserve under Bothwell, charged with such fury, that the standard of Surrey was in danger. At that critical moment, Stanley, who had routed the left wing of the Scottish, pursued his career of victory, and arrived on the right flank, and in the rear of James's division, which, throwing itself into a circle, disputed the battle till night came on. Surrey then drew back his forces; for the Scottish centre not having been broken, and their left wing being victorious, he yet doubted the event of the field. The Scottish army, however, felt their loss, and abandoned the field of battle in disorder, before dawn. They lost, perhaps, from eight to ten thousand men ; but that included the very prime of their nobility, gentry, and and even clergy. Scarce a family of eminence but has an ancestor killed at Flodden; and there is no province in Scotland, even at this day, where the battle is mentioned without a sensation of terror and sorrow. The English lost also a great number of men, perhaps within one-third of the vanquished, but they were of inferior note.-See the only distinct detail of the Field of Flodden in PINKERTON'S History, Book xi.; all former accounts being full of blunders and inconsis-lish, that they could never show the token of the iron belt, tency.

The spot from which Clara views the battle must be supposed to have been on a hillock commanding the rear of the English right wing, which was defeated, and in which conflict Marmion is supposed to have fallen.

There can be no doubt that King James fell in the battle of Flodden. He was killed, says the curious French Gazette, within a lance's length of the Earl of Surrey; and the same account adds, that none of his division were made prisoners, though many were killed; a circumstance that testifies the desperation of their resistance. The Scottish historians record many of the idle reports which passed among the vulgar of their day. Home was accused, by the popular voice, not only of failing to support the King, but even of having carried him out of the field, and murdered him. And this tale was revived in my remembrance, by an unauthenticated story of a skeleton, wrapped in a bull's hide, and surrounded with an iron chain, said to have been found in the well of Home, Castle; for which, on inquiry, I could never find any better authority than the sexton of the parish having said, that, if the well were cleaned out, he would not be surprised at such a discovery. Hoine was the chamberlain of the King, and his prime favourite; he had much to lose (in fact did lose all) in consequence of James's death, and nothing earthly to gain by that event: but the retreat, or inactivity of the left wing which he commanded, after defeating Sir Edmund Howard, and even the circumstance of his returning unhurt, and loaded with spoil, from so fatal a conflict, rendered the propagation of any calumny against him easy and acceptable. Other reports gave a still more romantic turn to the King's fate, and averred that James, weary of greatness after the carnage among his nobles, had gone on a pilgrimage, to merit absolution for the death of his father, and the breach of his oath of amity to Henry. In particular, it was objected to the Eng

which, however, he was likely enough to have laid aside on the day of battle, as encumbering his personal exertions. They produce a better evidence, the monarch's sword and dagger, which are still preserved in the Herald's College in London. Stowe has recorded a degrading story of the disgrace with which the remains of the unfortunate monarch were treated in his time. An unhewn column marks the spot where James fell, still called the King's Stone.

NOTE 4 R.

-Brian Tunstall, stainless knight.-P. 138.

Sir Brian Tunstall, called in the romantic language of the time, Tunstall the Undefiled, was one of the few Englishmen of rank slain at Flodden. He figures in the ancient English poem, to which I may safely refer my readers; as an edition, with full explanatory notes, has been published by my friend, Mr. Henry Weber. Tunstall, perhaps, derived his epithet of undefiled from his white armour and banner, the latter bearing a white cock, about to crow, as well as from his unstained loyalty and knightly faith. His place of residence was Thurland Castle.

"In 1810, as Sir Carnaby Haggerstone's workmen were digging in Flodden Field, they came to a pit filled with human bones, and which seemed of great extent; but, alarmed at the sight, they immediately filled up the excavation, and proceeded no farther.

"In 1817, Mr. Gray of Millfield Hill found, near the traces of an ancient encampment, a short distance from Flodden Hill, a tumulus, which, on removing, exhibited a very singular sepulchrc. In the centre, a large urn was found, but in a

NOTE 4 T.

The fair cathedral storm'd and took.-P. 142. This storm of Lichfield cathedral, which had been garri soned on the part of the King, took place in the Great Civil War. Lord Brook, who, with Sir John Gill, commanded the assailants, was shot with a musket-ball through the vizor of his helmet. The royalists remarked, that he was killed by a shot fired from St. Chad's cathedral, and upon St. Chad's Day, and received his death-wound in the very eye with which, he had said, he hoped to see the ruin of all the cathedrals in England. The magnificent church in question suffered cruelly upon this, and other occasions; the principal spite being ruined by the fire of the besiegers.

thousand pieces. It had either been broken to pieces by the stones falling upon it when digging, or had gone to pieces on the admission of the air. This urr. was surrounded by a num. ber of cells formed of flat stones, in the shape of graves, but too small to hold the body in its natural state. These sepul. chral recesses contained nothing except ashes, or dust of the same kind as that in the urn."-Sykes' Local Records, (2 vols. 8vo, 1833,) vol. ii. pp. 60 and 109.

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