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And oft, when evening skies were red,
Still hunted in his dream.
Now is the thrilling moment near
The signs the hunters know ;-
The archer strings his bow.
That e'er it left the string!
Has drenched the grey-goose wing.
The noble hound-he dies, he dies,
Without a moan or quiver.
But Keeldar sleeps for ever.
Nor what is death-but still
Some mystic tale of ill.
But he that bent the fatal bow,
Can think he hears the senseless clay
. And if it be, the shaft be bless'd,
I in your service die;
So true a guard as I.'
And to his last stout Percy rued
And fell amid the fray,
I had not died to day!'
Remembrance of the erring bow
Down dark Oblivion's river;
The scene shall live for ever.
BISHOP EGERTON AND HIS STEWARD.
On Dr. John Egerton coming to the see of Durham, he employed one Due as his agent, to find out the true value of the estates held by lease under him, and, in consequence of Due's report, greatly raised both the fines and reserved rents of his tenants ; on which account, the following toast was frequently drunk in and about Durham, “ May the Lord take the Bishop and the Devil have his Due.”—Grose's Olio, 1796.
F the attachment to games of chance which the farmers in some of the retired, inland districts of Northumberland, exhibit in the disposal of certain pendicles of their property, a characteristic example has been already presented to the readers of the Table Book, in the cus_ tom of Guse-plays. An additional instance of their predilection to reward with articles of household worth, suc
cessful adventure and skill, exists in another singular device they practise, called Candle-creel, consisting in playing at cards for candles. After the Martinmas, when the nights grow chill and frosty, and “sober suns must set at five o'clock," the cattle and horses are no longer permitted to pass the night in the open fields, but are harboured snugly, in stable and stall, sheltered from the bitter blasts, unwholesome dews, and pinching frosts, that announce winter's approach, and being then no longer able to forage for their own sustenance, are dependent for provender upon the now increasing activity of the clanking flail. These animals being foddered and bedded in the grey of the evening, are left to rest and rumination, till about eight o'clock or “beast-time,” when all the male population of the place headed by the farmer himself, bearing under his arm a massive lantern, are summoned forth, to furnish a fresh supply of food and litter where wanted, and to curry and rub the horses. To provide the light requisite for inspection of the bestial, forms an important item of the farmer's domestic arrangements, and numerous and sage are the calculations—and manifold the schemes—so that illumination may be procured at the most reasonable outlay, and with the least accruing waste. This is at least the fashion of the present age, “pejor avis.” In the olden times, the little farmers, less perplexed with the hideous phantom of rack-rent, indulging a more genial strain, converted it into an occasion of festivity. Parties of three or four convened at a little side-way ale-house, or in their own cheerful homes, each man with a creel or basket of candles at his side, out of which he hazarded or “lantered" stakes, till the rage for play abated, or some vigorous competitor bore off the lion's share. The victors generally secured a store, sufficient to “look the beasts
for a whole winter. Thus at the risk of a trifling sacrifice, many an hour of overflowing happiness gladdened the peaceful dwelling, gave relish to the unbroken level of country life, and diffused a civilizing influence over scenes where human abodes were scant and scattered, and man remote from intercourse with his fellows, was exposed to the danger of becoming churlish and unsocial.-From J. Hardy's. Col.
A BORDER PROPHECY.
Atween Craig-cross and Eildon tree
again to England to dee.
HIS prophecy has been popular in the south of Scotland
from time immemorial. It is usually ascribed to Alexander Peden the Cameronian seer; but as that right wor
shipful personage succeeded to a great deal of the fame and literary property of Thomas the Rhymer, and has been niore than once detected in repredicting what his predecessor had long before foretold, it may be in reality of much greater antiquity. Be the Author who he may it is certain that the prophecy came to pass in recent times.
About the middle of the last century a boy was born without hands or feet at Ballen mill, near Falstone in Northumberland. His name was Paterson, soon after his birth he was removed to Talnash mill, near the head of the Teviot water, about eight miles above Hawick. Here he was brought up. While yet a child he was taken back to England with the rest of the family, and died at Carlisle, aged 7 years, thus completely fulfilling every particular of the prediction and thereby confirming all the people who knew the circumstances, in a belief of Mr. Peden's prophetic powers.—Chambers' Edinburgh Journal, No. 61.
FROM RITSON's BISHOPRIC GARLAND.
HIS is a Bishopric Border song, composed in 1572, taken down by Ritson from the chanting of George Collingwood the elder, late of Boltsburn, in the neighbourhood of Rookhope, who was interred at Stanhope, the 16th of December, 1785.
"Rookhope is the name of a valley about five miles in length; at the termination of which,
Rookhope burn empties itself into the river Wear: the dale lies in the north part of the parish of Stanhope, in Weardale. Rookhope-head is the top of the vale. The ballad derives some additional interest, from the date of the event being so precisely ascertained to be the 6th December, 1569, when the Tynedale robbers, taking advantage of the public confusion occasioned by the rebellion of Westmoreland and Northumberland, and which particularly affected the bishopric of Durham, determined to make this foray into Weardale.
To the illustrations of Ritson have been added those of the late Robert Surtees, Esq., of Mainsforth, printed in the “Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border."
OOKHOPE stands in a pleasant place,
If the false thieves wad let it be.
And ever an ill death may they die !
And so is the man of Thirlwa'l 'nd Willie-haver, 2
And all their companies thereabout,
1 Thirlwall, or Thirlitwall, is said by Fordun, the Scottish historian, to be a name, given to the Picts' or Roman wall, from its having been thirled, or perforated, in ancient times, by the Scots and Picts. Wyntown also, who most probably copied Fordun, calls it Thirlwall. Thirlwall castle, though in a very ruinous condition, is still standing by the site of this famous wall, upon the river Tippal. It gave name to the ancient family, De Thirlwall.
2 Willie-baver, or Willeva, is a small district or township in the parish of Lanercost, near Bewcastledale, in Cumberland, mentioned in the old border ballad of Hobbie Noble :
“ Warn Willeva, and Spear Edom,