That when his wounded pride begins to heal, Edi. Plead with zeal, Thou wilt be heard. heart. The monarch has a Tosti, there's woe enough in store for thee, brother: I love him for it; he seems to know his sire, M. He has a form, Editha, like the gods. The king of slaughter starts, H. 1 suspect, That thy mere wishes, maid, would more avail Than my entreaties with our youthful monarch. He names Editha; and no courtier's voice May now presume to warble forth thy praise. Has he not hinted to thyself his passion? Edi. In Goodwin's hall, where Edward chanc'd to see me, Oft, when the chace was vocal on the heath, He chose to linger in the women's room, Woo'd me to paint him flowers upon his shield, Or trifled with the scarves that I was purfling: At times he courted me to shady walks, To view her image in that waveless rill. H. 'Tis well, sweet niece; I trust he is unchang'd, Methinks he might be here: he said his train Should tread upon the heel of Harold's haste. Do I not hear the trampling of Lis horses? These sounds of minstrelsy announce the king. Edi. (aside.) Why do I tremble? Is the coward awe With which the slave looks up to a superior, The common portion of all them that bear The name of king? Lie still, my busy heart. I see I have not bound my hair with flowers. H. Return, Editha, soon. (She goes.) On thy own head, Go, unforeseeing victim, bind the garland; For thou lov'st Edward to thy uncle's wishes. Uprears in darken'd air his shield, For, Edward, on thy head The Nornies, from unmeasur'd stores, When high the tide of battle flows, For, Edward, on thy head The Nornies, from unmeasur'd stores, yon lovely maid! At length in slumber's arm she sank: She wakes-to rest no more, Behold the widow by her once-loy'd hearth No more she hears, with silent joy, Of freedom and of fame. Who now shall teach her boy the deeds Far from the field of fight Ah! thither turn no more, with ruthless To crush the blooms of bliss, For that has Frea round thy head H. With gratitude that meets thy con- In rival strides, my royal lord, be welcome. daughters- Edw. Since I have seen Editha, other Unnotic'd glide before my purged sight, That wither into spectres where 'tis day. Edi. Why dost thou borrow Flattery's ready hand, To throw confusion's crimson veil upon me? Or Braga's music lurking in my voice, Edi. To virgin ears, my lord, a father's voice Should first converse of love.-I pray you, cease. Edw. but should thy father frown upon our union, Those azure eyes will look e'en him to mild ness. That voice alone would win him: it may add, Was dewy with desire that he inspir'd, As in Valhalla. From the hour I view'd thee, Those arms have vainly beckon'd my return, Those eyes elicit no responsive gaze, Those bosoms heave and flutter unobserv'd. Edi. My lord, you trouble me, farewell. (HAROLD, who, during the interview, comes once or twice into the room, tuben be sees EDITHA retiring, comes forward.) Edw. Yet stay, yet hear, at least look Wilt thou not grant me, after the repast, prayer. Heed my She gave me no denial-I may hopeAnd while I spoke, methought her eyes grew languid, Closing like evening flowers to chalice dew. She drew a shorter breath; and wandering blushes, Like northern lights reflected upon snow, Quiver'd along her bosom.-Harold, come : Thou know'st the forfeit lands of Ulf and Gamel, Whom Tosti in rebellion crush'd and slew; They are for thee. H. Monarch, a life of service Will not acquit my debt of gratitude. Edw. A single hour may overpay it all: Make me but happy in Editha's love. H. Think you to halve the throne with Tosti's daughter, Affianc'd as you are? Edrv. Half of my throne Were still too little to express my passion; But England's interests are sacred to me. H. What must I do? Edw. Aid me to bear her hence: And, as thy guest, convey her to my palace: Here she will never yield, while those are nigh This evening then, when the repast is overH. Thy wishes are the law of all my actions. (King of Slaughter.) Odin was the war-god of our northern ancestors. (Nornies) were the Parcæ of Gothic mythology. (Night-mares; or Night-maids, as it should be translated) were of the race of elves, and supposed to dispense dreams. (Frea.) The Goths, in the true spirit of their pure manners, adored Frea, a virgin, as the goddess of love and beauty. (Balder) was the handsomest of Odin's sons. (Braga) was god of music and poetry, and celebrated the heroes in Valhalla, the paradise of the dead. (Hermod) presided over eloquence. (End of the first Act.) For the Monthly Magazine. On the MEANS of BETTERING the CONDITION of the poor. LETTER 11. Ν IN former letter I have not men tioned a section of the statute 43 Elizabeth, which is the basis of our system of the poor-laws, and which well deserves to be mentioned. It is this: "The churchwardens and overseers, or the greater part of them, by the leave of the lord of the manor, whereof any waste or common within the parish is parcel, and on agreement made with him in writing, under his hand and seal; or otherwise according to any order to be set down by the justices in sessions, by like leave and agreement of the lord, in writing, under his hand and seal; may build, in fit and convenient places of habitation in such waste or common, at the charge of the parish, or otherwise of the county or hundred aforesaid, to be rated and gathered in manner as before expressed, convenient houses of dwelling for the said impotent poor." 43 Eliz. c. ii. § 5. "Impotent poor" would be construed here, as it has been construed in other instances, not poor wholly unable to maintain themselves, but poor in want of occasional relief: which almost every labourer in husbandry, or working manufacturer, now is. The difficulty is, that commons are becoming compara With whom she has the habit to be virtuous; tively scarce, from the number of At Windsor, half resisted, half allow'd, 1 shall obtain my wishes, and forgiveness. H. She may imagine that I journey with you, But leave me here: let it seem done by force, That she is hurried from me. Be it se. enclosures: and the waste of the manor, which is the only other alternative given by the act, often becomes personal property under the enclosure; or, where it does not, is often inconveniently situated, both for the poor, and in other respects. One great object, if a poor man be industrious, industrious, is the having a little land adjoining to his cottage, either for a potatoe-ground or otherwise, according to circumstances. When political economy was in its infancy, which is even now far less advanced toward its maturity than it ought to be, the idea of annexing land to Cottages, for the convenience and comfort of the poor, had even then been entertained; and there was an attempt to secure it, but by the worst of all possible means-compulsion. The act of legislating is like that of government in all its branches; and those who would reign permanently, beneficially, or even effectually, must take care not to reign too much. The 31st of Eliz. c. vil. having prohi. bited cottages to be built for the poor, without laying four acres of land to them at least, it was found that the effect was, not to obtain land for the poor, but to prohibit cottages. And as this effect encreased as the value of land encreased, this act was, with great prudence and political benevolence, at length repealed, by 15 Geo. III. c. 32. (anno 1775;) which very truly set forth that it had laid the industrious poor under great difficulties to procure habitations, and tended very much to lessen population, and in divers other respects was inconvenient to the labouring part of the nation in general. It is, I think, apparent, that the obstacles to the building of habitations for the poor are such, as to call for an encrease of the powers of parish-officers and magistrates for that purpose. How this might be done with the least inconvenience to parishes, and with the greatest benefit to the industrious poor, may perhaps be the subject of a third letter. Troston-hall, Jan. 1810. CAPEL LOFFT. of a nosegay composed of those simple flowers that lie hidden under the hedge which skirts his path, and which the more consequential passenger passes with indifference or contempt. On leaving the town of Reading, through the Forbury, the lofty hills of Oxfordshire, and the rich vale divided between the two counties of Oxford and Berks by the bold course of the Thames, present the traveller with a display eminent for the variety and beauty of its points: and this scene of enchanting simplicity gathers additional charms from the artificial contrast afforded by the massive ruins of the great mitred abbey of Reading, which lie spread in sullen magnificence along the back-ground. Toward this splendid wreck the tra veller unavoidably turns with curiosity. The building was founded by Henry I. in the year 1121, and is said to have been completed in 1124. The monks were originally in number two hundred, and were of the Benedictine order. Some idea of the splendour in which the abbot was accustomed to reside, may be formed from the following circumstance: In the year 1805, the monastery was con siderably in debt, and divers retrenchments were found to be absolutely necessary; in obedience to this conviction, the abbot lessened the number of his servants, and thenceforward retained only thirty-seven. Several parliaments were held in the great hall of Reading abbey; and many bishops were consecrated in the abbey church. It was here hikewise that Elizabeth, queen of Edward IV., was first presented to the people as the consort of their sovereigil. This ceremony took place at Michaelmas, 1464. The queen was led through the church by the duke of Clarence, and the carl of Warwick. The chief nobility were among the spectators; and the Forbury resounded with the acclamations of the men of Berkshire. On inspection, it will clearly appear that the walls of this ancient building were chiefly composed by laying course after course of the coating stone; the interstices being filled with mortar, mixed with small flints. In some instances; no layers of coating stone appear to have been employed; and then it is supposed, boards were used to contine the liquid wall, till it acquired the consistency necessary for self-dependence. delicate specimens of Saxon taste have been discovered on various solid bodies of hard lime-stone, which formerly con Some stituted stituted the mouldings of this august fabric. It is impossible to contemplate the ponderous ruin, without reflecting on the contumely with which the memory of the founder has been treated. Henry I. died in Normandy; and his body, rudely embalmed, and wrapped, as it is said, in tanned ox-hides, was brought to England in great state. King Stephen met the body at Reading, and assisted in supporting the bier, when the remains of the aged sovereign were interred before the high altar in the abbey church.* But we are informed by Sandford, that, at the time of the Reformation, the king's tomb was destroyed, and the bones were contemptuously "thrown out." The pedestrian will look in vain for "an island near the abbey," on which a chivalric duel was fought in the reign of Henry II. The course of the river is so entirely altered, that no island is any longer perceptible; yet by such a term was the spot designated, on which Robert de Montfort and Henry de Essex fought, in the year 1163. Henry de Essex was hereditary standard-bearer to the king of England; and, in an engage ment which Henry II. maintained with the Welsh, he was seized with a panic, and threw down the standard, on a false alarm of the king's being slain, or taken prisoner. For this act of cowardice he was challenged by De Montfort; and an "island near the abbey of Reading" was named by the king as the place of combat. The conflict was gallantly supported by both parties: but at length Essex fell, covered with wounds; and the king, concluding that he was slain, gave the monks permission to inter his body. But, when taken to the abbey, Essex revived; and, on his complete recovery being effected, he assumed the habit of the Benedictine order, and spent the remainder of his days in pious offices. Numberless rare assemblages of pic turesque scenery will tempt the traveller to pause as he prosecutes his walk along the banks of the Thames, towards the village of Souning; and when he reaches the point which faces the noble mansion of Caversham, circumstances of historic legend will unite with the chains of natural beauty, to affect his mind with interesting images. In the edifice which Speed says, that Henry's queen was interred with him in the collegiate church of the abbey, and that both the bodies were veiled and crowned." formerly stood on this site, Anne of Denmark, queen of James I. was entertained in a splendid manner by the lord Knolles, then possessor of the estate; and here Charles I. the unfortunate son of that queen, had an interview with his children during that calamitous. intestine war, in which regal severity, and puritanical deceit, struggled to outdo each other in acts of turbulence and bloodshed. The modern dwelling of the Palmer family, announces the approach of the pedestrian to the village of Sonning. The situation of this house is peculiarly happy. The building is seated on an eminence, and is surrounded by fantastic ranges of underwood; while the majestic current of the Thames meanders at its base, and regales the eye with thousand sedgy recesses and fairy nooks. The house, however, has little claim to approbation. It is too lofty for its width, (an error peculiarly offensive in the construction of a country residence ;) and possesses no determinate character, either of ancient or modern architecture. If this building should pass to posterity as a specimen of the taste of the age, it appears that one particular only-the judicious choice of site-will obtain applause. The increase of descriptive poetry, and the excellence attained by the landscape-painters of the period, have indeed rendered very general a regard for elevated situations. Thus we return, from a principle of taste, to the mode in use with the very early ages from a motive of necessity. In days of baronial contention, the founder of a magnificent abode placed his frowning edifice on the summit of the loftiest hill, indifferent to the winds of winter, because that spot promised personal security to himself and his ambitious family. When "the union of the roses," and the introduction of commercial habits, removed all apprehension of our unpolished predatory incursions, ancestors looked with a listless or disdainful eye on the sweetest attractions of rural nature; and, while they placed their mansion in the depth of a valley impervious to the northern wind, they trimmed the fire on the hearth, and thought themselves the wisest of men. The day is now arrived, in which a cor rectness of taste triumphs over the apprehensions prevalent in both these eras of our country; and the painter and the poet possess the merit of having encouraged such an admiration for nature, |