O'er, loose, a pile of stones, on which they stood
Conspicuous. Before she'd reach'd the CASTLE
The Chief had risen, with knights, and vassals, fresh:
From out the frith, the orient lamp began
To lighten up the vale; the mists, dispersed,
The hills t'ascend, and of their mantles gray
To free them fast: The cock, the harbinger
Of day, had crowed: The merry lark had left
The ground: The morning tempted to the chase;
And loud, to summon to't, the horn had blown ;
When tidings of the theft, and thief were brought.
In heat of youthful passion; to be gone
Impatient, with his hounds and followers;
Out from the Keep he ordered was, and fast
Within the collar to be chained, and shown,
A warning, or his self, or ways to shun,
Till from their sport they should return at eve.
Without delay he to the pile was dragged;
Forced up the heap; and fixed within the ring.
But scarce had he been left till in the breeze
Had died away the sounds of men and dogs,
When, by a hapless move, a slippery stone
Slid out from under foot, and took away
His breath. Bereft of life, he lonely hung,
When at the CASTLE gate his mother knocked,
Bedimmed with age, without perceiving aught;
Asked for her son-her only son; implored

Procure his pardon. But, when to the tower
The servants led her-she approached its door-
Heard not his voice-and looked-and saw her child-
The only support of her palsied limbs ;

Though wild, and wicked, still her sole resource-
Last prop in sinking years-she screamed aloud,
Distracted! strong a while, her feeble arms,
In frantic clasp, upheld him, now a corse,
Till nature sunk!-The tender sister wept

O'er youth, and age; and when, within the CASTLE,
The wailing widow, from her stupor, oft,

With shriek, wild starting, called upon her son!
Her healing art unable to do more,

She threw her eyes to heaven, and begged relief!

A fluttering glimmer yet remained of life
Within its socket, at the close of day;

When to the room, in which she had been laid,
The Chieftain came in haste, and heard her cry,
With faltering tongue, exhausted—where's my child?
A mother's curse attend his murderer!

May he ne'er know the value of a son!
Stamped be his name itself, with barrenness!-
The voice of nature joined within him: Like
A statue, pale and motionless he stood;
But heard no more.-One grave inclosed the dead.

O, why should, thus, the man, because possessed, Of what is held the choicest gift of heaven,

Of feelings exquisite, be tortured oft,

Though more than guiltless, with the pangs of guilt!

A settled horror, thence, o'erspread his mind.
The hall grew silent; and the hills no more
Re-echoed to the chase: He left them both :
And whilst upon a weary pilgrimage,
To papal Rome itself as some report,
To do away the mother's hasty wish,
And quiet the torments of a troubled soul,
He went, his sister, to relieve her mind
Dejected, formed, beyond the Chapel Den,
Toward the west, between and Habby's How,
Beside a lin, an arbour, on a point,

That still retains the name of MARY'S BOWER *.
Oft to her Bower she pensively withdrew,

Till he absolved returned, and with him joy.

* This is another way of telling the same traditional story thatis repeated in the Description of MARY'S LIN and BowER. Though in particulars they often vary, in the main all the accounts agree. They likewise evidence the antiquity, and importance of this Seat, first,, it would seem, a Convent, then a Castle, and afterwards a Mansion-House; and confirm what is said, with regard to it, in the Life of Baron Clerk, that it once" held most of the surrounding district."

THE METEOR.

THE following Poem contains an exact description of the remarkable Meteor that appeared on the 18th of August 1783 at twenty-five minutes past nine in the evening, as seen by the author; and the scenary in the first part of it is faithfully copied from the objects about the place in which he was at the time. It is written in the manner of Ossian, as if by a Saxon soon after the Conquest, which happened in the month of October; in order to heighten the effect of the description by the introduction of the Gothic superstition. The Meteor's progress was from the north-west; but it is here altered, to favour the idea of its being the forerunner of William's Invasion, in September, the following month, agreeably to the common opinion, that all appearances of Heavenly Bodies, not perfectly understood, indicated the deaths of Sovereigns, or the Revolutions of Empires.

See PHILOSOPHICAL TRANSACTIONS, vol. lxxiv.

"Now it is the time of night

"That the graves, all gaping wide,
"Every one lets forth his sprite,

"In the church-way paths to glide.

SHAKESPEARE. Midsummer Night's Dream,

Act 5. Sc. 3.

* The Advocate's Room at New Hall. See the Description

of New-Hall House.

"Shone, like a Meteor, streaming to the wind.

MILTON, P. Lost. B. 1.

"Streamed, like a Meteor, to the troubled air.

GRAY. The Bard.

"That, through the shade of night projecting huge,
"In horrid trail, a spire of dusky flame,

"Embodied mists and vapours, whose fir'd mass
"Keen vibrates, streaming a red length of air,
"While distant orbs with wonder and amaze
"Its dreaded progress watch, as of a foe
"Whose march is ever fatal, in whose train
"Famine, and War, and desolating Plague,
"Each on his pale horse rides, the ministers
"Of angry heaven, to scourge offending worlds!

MALLET. The Excursion, Canto 2.

'Twas in the pride of the rolling year: It had come to the fullness of its strength: A part of the yellow grain yet rustled on the field: The young of the bounding doe were fleet as the wind: The hunter marked them on the hill, and sighed for the sound of their approach: The pass was stained with their youthful blood.-The plains rejoiced in their labours: The hills exulted in the fruits of their toils.

No galling curfew yet had tolled; the middle of the second hour, of the night, was come, and still the fire might be kindled on the hearth. I was sit