Inverted pinnacles of bright
Carbuncle, join'd with tracery light
Of diamond and of olivine,

As if the genius of the mine
Had hither called in elder time,
From every region, every clime,

His subject train, and each had brought
What of his realms was worthiest thought,
And first the swarthy power that sways
The rod of mineral Afric. Blaze

His altars now? The ancient world---
Proud Carthage to the dust is hurl'd,
And Ethiopia set in night,

And Egypt from her airy height

Is fallen-now his tributes cease

From blinded Rome and bleeding Greece.
High on the mountains of the moon,
He mourns his glories set at noon.
Then, from their yet unravag'd homes,
Peru and Quito's yellow Gnomes,
Heap'd those ingots, bars, and ore,
In masses on the rusty floor;
Where never mortal footstep trode
Till Rupert's-there Golconda's god
His light-embodying crystals pil'd;
And here the mighty genius smil'd
On hardier Europe's spar-crown'd king.
Wild fancy, tame thy soaring wing,
For who can paint the anxious gaze
With which pleas'd Rupert saw them blaze;

Or who conceive his anguish'd mind,
When, reader, he was stricken blind!
Th' attempt were vain-I will not try
To paint his sorrow's extasy,

The heart-wrung groan, the scalding tear,
The stiffen'd eye-ball strain'd and sear,
Half-utter'd pray'rs, which, dreadful, turn
To curses deep that mercy spurn.

But, though the orbs of light were quench'd,
Stern Rupert's spirit never blench'd.
He rose and darkling groped his way,
Once more to realms of upper day,
To Rupert equal now with night.
But though the dawning's russet light
To him was not-the breath of morn
Was keen-the fields where he was born,
The scene of all his youthful bliss,
The spot where first love's rapt'rous kiss
Hallow'd his lip, those cherish'd plains,
For which he hoarded all the gains
Of industry and prosp'rous crime,
With which he hop'd, in future time,
To be the lord of this domain,

And o'er his friends and kinsmen reign;
Those fields he trode a beggar, blind,
A man cut off from all his kind,
Tortur'd by conscience, not one friend
To lead him to his journey's end.
The peasants shunn'd the fearful wight,
"That traced the ruins day and night,"

And many a tale of wonder tell
Of him who sought the hidden cell,
And ne'er could find; for, it is said,
Seven dreary years pass'd o'er his head,
Then, on the eve of that dread night
When first he lost-the pale blue light
Again appeared and brought him sight,
Play'd on the edge and seem'd to sink;
Amaz'd flew Rupert to the brink,

The loosen'd rock on which he stood
Incumbent o'er the mining flood,
Crumbling gave way,-a smother'd sound,
A shuddering tremor felt around,
One struggle made to reach the shore,
One groan---he sank to rise no more.

How many a precious year is spent,
Peace sacrificed and dear content,
How many a spotless soul is stain'd,
In the vain search of what obtain'd
Cannot one hour of comfort buy,
Yet still men seek-and seeking die.

NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS.

NOTE 1, P. 30, L. 25, &c.
And now, beneath his eager eye,
Deira and Bernicia lie.

Selden represents the principalities of Deira and Bernicia as earldoms given in perpetuity; of which the instances were not frequent during the Saxon period. The limit of Bernicia on the south is sometimes said by the ancient English writers to be the Tyne, and sometimes the Tees. In the same manner its northern limit is sometimes said to be the Frith of Forth, at other times the Tweed. It is probable that, at different periods of time, its actual limits did thus vary.

NOTE 2, P. 31, L. 3, &c.
High lifted on its craggy spear,
The Priory glows in saffron here.

Tynemouth Priory is situated on a peninsula formed of stupendous rocks, on the north side of the river Tyne, against which the heavy seas break with great vehemence and tumult. Waltheof, to shew some colour or pretext for the degradation of this monastery, pretended it was an unfit situation for devotion; which, observes Wallis, "is so far from being the case, that few can exceed it for presenting

the mind with a variety of solemn objects, capable of raising it to an adoration and awful reverence of the Deity. The very precipice it stands on, lofty and almost perpendicular, whose semicircular base withstands the fury of the waves, must have inspired the religious with a firm reliance on him who is the rock of ages: the calms-the storms-the ships-must all by turns have furnished them with occasions to praise him whose wonders are in the deep."

NOTE 3, P. 31, L. 21.

There Hartley's moon of burning sand. Hartley is about five miles north from North Shields, and contains glass-houses for the manufacture of bottles, salt-works, and other manufactories.

NOTE 4, P. 31, L. 28.

From Pont to Cambois, &c.

Cambois is situated at the mouth of the river Wansbeck, and between seven and eight miles south by east from Morpeth. Cambois is a small port, belonging to Sir Matthew White Ridley, Bart., and its exports consist chiefly of corn, timber, and grindstones. The banks of the Wansbeck are beautifully clothed with wood, and there are some fine plantations at Sheepwash, above three miles west from Cambois.

NOTE 5, P. 32, L. 3.

Unequal'd, save by Hartford's vale.

Hartford House, erected by the late William Burdon, Esq., is delightfully situated at the southern extremity of Bedlingtonshire, on the beautiful and picturesque banks of the river Blyth.