the oak-tree for a walking-stick, met however an untimely end; he profferred a wrestling match with Corineus, another giant, who in the end tossed poor Gogmagog up into the air, and dashed him to pieces among the rocks. The punishment of Gogmagog, and "Brut wende forthe into Engelond and aspiede up and doun In gode contré and plenteus, that his herte much to drogh, Brut however called it New Troy, a magic name to our forefathers for many generations, even to the time of the triumphal entry of the sapient James into the city, when prose and verse alike shewed forth the high antiquity and lofty claims of "old Troynouvant," as it was somewhat ludicrously termed. Then follows the division of the kingdom between his three sons, Locrine, Camber, and Albanak, and the feuds in Locrine's family, the fierce revenge of the stepmother Estrildis, and the fate of that "hapless maiden," whose name is familiar to every reader, from her introduction in the splendid masque of Comus, stream-engulphed Sabina. Proceeding onward, he next gives an account of the building of Bath by King Bathulf, and tells us how "thoru enchantement" he enclosed fire in brazen vessels, by which the water as it passes gains heat, and that the metal is now turned into "roches grete." This is rather an enlargement upon Geffrey; but the following extract from a Chronicle of England, composed about fifty years later, shews what additional wonders can be heaped upon a marvellous story in a marvel-loving age, and how correct is that old proverb, that a tale loses nothing in the telling, In this account Bathulf is called Bladud, and his era is placed later-but his wondrous works at "the hote bathe" are thus described: "Four tonnes ther beath of brass Sal nitre that ys briht, Bathulf, however, eventually fel a victim to his love of doing wonderfu things he made himself “* wycze (wings) on hie for to fly," our worthy Chronicler tells us, and met the fate of Icarus, whereupon Robert very soberly remarks, that "Better hadde hym ybe, Have bileved + adoune, than ylerned fær to fle. Bathulf was succeeded by his son Leir, whose name introduces the well-known story of King Leir and his daughters; this is told at great length, and is the same in every respect as the narrative in Geffrey. A long parenthesis about the foundation of Rome, and an account of the incursions of the Picts, succeed; and then a description of Ireland is given, which he says abounds with milk and honey, and with "many fole and bolde;" he also remarks that no venomous animal is found there, nor serpents. It is remarkable that here he uses the old Teutonic word, and terms them "wormes." Passing over four hundred years, during which he says, "Kinges reigned many one," and leaving out the interesting story of Artegal and Elidure, and the tragic tale of Ferrex and Porrex, both of which have a place in Geffrey of Monmouth, he comes to the reign of the renowned King Lud, that especial ornament of Troynouvant. • Vide Ritson's Metrical Romances, 2d vol. + Continued. "Grete townes in Engelond, he amendede ynowe, Walles he lette make about, and gates up and doun, And after Lud, that was hys name, he clepude it Lud's ton, The hexte (highest) gate of the toun, tha yet stonde there and is, He let hym tho' he was dede, burye at thilke gate, " The town me cleputh Ludestown, that ys wyde cowth, (known) And now me cleputh yt London, that ys lyghter in the mouth." In this extract, the circumstance of the word "let" being used always according to its modern signification of "permit, allow," instead of the contrary sense, which it certainly bore during the 16th century, and most probably earlier, will not fail to strike the reader as very singular. It would be a curious inquiry, to endeavour to ascertain when, and if possible, how this changeable word was used with an opposite meaning, and when it reverted to what would seem to be its original sense. We would also direct the attention of the reader to the very arbitrary orthography that obtains throughout the whole of this chronicle; there is scarcely one word that is not spelt almost half a dozen different ways but we must return to our narrative. Cassibel succeeded the renowned King Lud, and it was in his reign that the emperor July," having conquered France, cast a longing eye toward Britain, and asked what land it was. On being told that it was the land which Brut, who came from Italy, first raised into a kingdom, he rejoins, in the true spirit of the 13th century, that it certainly belongs to the Roman empire, and therefore the king should do him homage. He sends messengers therefore, demanding it, and also "servage due;" Cassibel returns a very sensible answer, but one certainly better fitted to the 19th century than the 13th, for he waives all argument respecting England being a fief of the Roman empire, and contents himself with lamenting that people should not be satisfied with their condition, and that an emperor who has so wide a dominion, should covet "oure lutel gede," who, as he says too, are "bi ourself as at the worlde's ende;" he however concludes with a message of defiance. The emperor July however is not to be moved from his purpose; he lands, and Cassibel prepares to give him battle. The field of contest is near Canterbury, and the combatants fight in the approved method of the 13th century, with arrows and " quarrels," swords and maces. Nennyn, Cassibel's brother, most chivalrously engages in single combat with “ July,” and strikes him right in the midst of his shield. A decisive victory is obtained, the Romans take to their ships, and Cassibel holds high festival, and offers sacrifices in his good city of London, of 40,000 oxen, 100,000 sheep, and 30,000 "wyld bestes." But fraud effects what arms had attempted in vain; through the perfidy of his nephew, Cassibel finally becomes tributary to July, and sends hostages to Rome. After his death, Kymbel succeeds, in whose time 66 oure Lord was in Bedleem y bore, Of Marie to save men, that erst were for lore." Then follows much uninteresting nar- From ealder, highest, principal. The work is begun, but the next morning, "al clene there down it lay;" again and again they build, and again and again the following morning beholds their labour destroyed. After much wonder, and many consultations, Merlin is sent for; he directs them to dig beneath the foundation; there they find a pond beneath two hollow stones, each enclosing a dragon, the one white, and the other red, and he points out that it was their nocturnal strivings that had caused the foundations to fall. His explanation is the same as that in Geffrey, that their strife signifies the contests of the Britons and Saxons. After Vortiger's death, Aurelius succeeds, and having routed all his enemies, he determines to build a noble monument to the memory of those nobles who had been so treacherously slain at the banquet by the Saxons. His architect not being able to please him, he sends to Merlin, who recommends the transportation of "the giant's dance" from Kylar," in Ireland, to Salisbury plain. Aurelius approves the suggestion, and understanding that these huge stones were originally brought from Africa, he sends 15,000 men, and a civil message to the king of Ireland. Now these stones were said to possess great medicinal virtue, for being washed with water, that water being put into a bath, sick persons bathing therein, were sure to recover from their maladies. The 15,000 men set about the work, but vain are all their efforts, although aided by "cables, laddres, and leveres," not one of the stones moved an inch. When Merlin had sufficiently amused himself with their vain efforts, "he sette hys gynnes as he wolde, and hys quaintise dyd stylle," when immediately they were brought to the ship's side, and transported to the "down of Ambresbury," against that important festival, "the feste of Whitsondaye." We next come to the birth, education, and right valorous deeds of that chief hero of romance, King Arthur. In this part of the chronicle also, Robert of Gloucester closely follows Geffrey. The description of his shield, Pridwen, with the image of our Lady thereon, of his good sword Caly. bourne (the Escalibor of later poets), and the service it did him when four hundred and seventy Saxons felt its murderous edge, the proud list of his numerous victories, and how his deminion extended over Ireland, Iceland, Gothland, the Orkney, Norways, Dacia, Acquitaine, and Gaul; the "full, true and particular account" of his coronation feast, when two kings served as chief butler and chief sewer, and ont thousand knights waited on the assembled guests, are all taken from the "British History." The true name of the city and its site, where this gallant feast was held, is however given by our chronicler. Geffrey merely says it was held at the city of legions," but Robert says it was at Caerleon, that consecrated name in chivalrous romance. "A toun that ys yn Glamorgan, up the "Lede in to an ysle, vor to hele his wounde, (But) Ac nathles the Brutons and Cornwalsse of ys kunde, Wenyth he be alyve yut, and habbeth hym yut in mynde, These lines are well worthy of atten- Arthur's tranced slumber, and future awakening, is not a mere poetical fancy of the writers of the chivalrous romances, but that it was a sober and earnest expectation among the inhabitants of Cornwall, no less than among hose of Armorica, and dwelt upon with unwavering faith for centuries. Surely Arthur, petty chieftain though he may have been, must have had a real existence, and surely his death must have been connected with no unimportant event, when the Breton, separated from England for many centuries, still listened with delight to tales of English prowess, and clung to the belief of Arthur's restoration to his kingdom, with such fond pertinacity, that "to expect King Arthur like the Bretons," was for centuries a well-known proverb. CONFLAGRATION OF THE TWO HOUSES OF PARLIAMENT. New Kent-road, Mr. URBAN, Oct. 17. PERHAPS a few notes from an eyewitness of the destructive Fire which has laid waste the houses of Lords and Commons, written chiefly in a scenic but unexaggerated point of view, may not be unacceptable to your readers. About half past six in the evening of Thursday, the 16th instant, a brilliant glare of ruddy light in the horizon, westward of this place, indicated that a conflagration of no ordinary character had somewhere broken out. So powerful was the illumination that I at first thought it was in this immediate neighbourhood. A report soon after reached me that the coffeehouse adjoining the House of Lords was on fire. Westminster Abbey, the Hall and its dependencies, flashed on the instant across my mind. I was soon in a public vehicle and on Westminster-bridge. London and its suburbs were pouring forth their myriads to this terrific grand spectacle. The atmosphere was glowing with the flames, and sparks were flying rapidly over the road leading to the bridge, the wind being about south-west, and blowing very fresh. The bridge was obstructed by carriages. Spectators thronged the footpaths. I alighted from the carriage, and made my way to the boat-houses at Stangate, near the Bishop's Walk, Lambeth. Here turning down a narrow passage leading When the fire first broke out the wind was due south, it veered shortly after to the westward; to this circumstance may be mainly attributed the safety of Westminster Hall. The confusion in the statements of the public journals relative to the direction of the wind evidently arose from its being forgotten that, by a turn in the river at Westminster, its course is North and South. immediately to the shore of the Thames, The tide was nearly at its lowest ebb; high water at London Bridge was marked that day 20 min. past 1 P. M. was almost universal for the preserva tion of the noble Hall. By the judi cious measure adopted of stationing engines in the interior, which could pour a stream of water on any part of the roof immediately threatened, and above all by the providential direction of the wind, which carried the flames of the burning House of Commons away from the gable, and drifted the volume of smoke and kindled embers across the Thames, the Hall was eventually saved. In the back-ground of this awful scene the old towers of the Abbey seemed to be sleeping in the clear moonlight, tinged also with the hue of the flames. To parody the lines of a modern departed genius of deserved celebrity, "O'er London all that fearful night A wondrous blaze was seen to gleam, 'Twas broader than the watch fire-light, And redder than the bright moon beam, Blazed battlement and pinnet high." And speaking with reference to the reflections on the Chapel of Henry VII. "Blazed every rose-carved buttress fair!" The fire was now seen kindling by degrees the upper portions of the Speaker's house. About half past nine an immense column of flame burst forth through the roof and windows of the House of Lords; the whole of the upper part of the building was veiled from the eye by this out-break of the conflagration; bright blue§ corruscations, as of electric fire, played in the volume of flames, and so struck were the bye-standers with the grandeur of the sight at this moment, that they involuntarily (and form no bad feeling) clapped their hands, as though they had been present at the closing scene of some dramatic spectacle, when all that the pencil and pyrotechnic skill can effect is put in action, to produce a striking coup d'œil. I left my post about ten, and returned to it again in another hour. The picture now was changed, the floors and roofs had fallen Lay of the Last Minstrel, Canto VI. § This singular appearance proceeded perhaps from the colouring matter in the materials of the tapestry of the House of Lords, which represented the destruction of the Armada, and the heroes of that event. in, and the gutted buildings, glared with flames, ascending from the vacant area; clouds of white smoke rolled from the burning mass, and blue stars of fire, as it were, studded the openings of the windows like an illumination on a rejoicing night, or as if Pendent by subtle magic many a row Of starry lamps and blazing cressets fed With naphtha and asphaltum yielded light."¶ Indeed the whole might be imagined to resemble Milton's Pandemonium; the solid walls, presenting numerous architectural apertures, appeared to glow as if red hot with the fervent heat. To complete the terrors of the scene, to the above particulars must be added the" dire yell" when, as Shakspeare says, "by night and negligence the fire is spied in populous cities,"-the bell of St. Margaret's tolling-the firemen shouting-the crash of falling timbers-the drums of the foot-guards beating to arms, and the clarions of Amidst all this din and confusion the the horse wailing through the air. river calmly glided on, gleaming with reflected fires, and as a venerable poet, your correspondent, has beautifully expressed, "made no sound;" and the moon in unruffled majesty rode through the skies "apparent Queen," her pale and silver light overpowering that of the glowing furnace which raged in the palace of the Saxon Confessor and his successors. So much has been said in detail by contemporary prints, on the antiquarian and historical particulars of the buildings which suffered or were endangered by this great fire, that I have little inclination at present to dilate at any length on those points. || This effect was produced by the solid frames of timber which surrounded the apertures for windows. Milton's Paradise Lost, Book I. *See Gents. Mag. for Sept. p. 290. + So far from the light of the fire extinguishing that of the moon, as some inflated accounts of the Journalists the next day stated, the flood of light from that luminary, then within a day of the full, greatly subdued that of the flames, and confined the atmospheric reflection to the quarter whence they proceeded. The Times of the 21st October had a long and well compiled account of the two Houses of Parliament. |