It bristled up its scaly back, Curled high its jointed tail, And ready stood, with grinning teeth, Then sprung at the knight with all its might, With its jointed tail, like a thrasher's flail, But quick of eye, and swift of foot, He guarded the attack; And dealt his brand with skilful hand Again, again, at the knight it flew; It rose on high, and darkened the sky, A moment winnowed th' air with its wings, He stood prepared for the falling blow, Awhile he reeled, then, staggering, fell And round about its prostrate foe Its fearful length it rolled, And clasped him close, till his armour cracked Within its scaly fold. But pierced by the blades, from body and breast, Fast did the red blood pour; Cut by the blades, piece fell by piece, And quivered in the gore. Piece fell by piece, foot fell by foot: But stained with blood, as the severed limbs Piece fell by piece, and inch by inch, But the head still hung by the gory teeth It panted long, and fast it breathed, Its eyes grew dim, it loosed its hold, Then loud he blew on his bugle-horn, From rock to rock the sound was borne, For, burdened long by the dragon's roar, But not his hound, with gladdened bound, With feelings dire, he sees his sire Oh! what can equal a father's love, 'Tis stronger than a sister's sigh, When Lambton's anxious listening lord, "Strange is my lot," said the luckless wight; "How sorrow and joy combine! When high in fame to my home I came, "This morn my triumph sees, and sees Dishonour light on me: For I had vowed to the Holy Maid, If she gave me victory, What first I met, when the fight was o'er, Y "I thought to have slain my gallant hound, Beneath my unwilling knife: But I cannot raise my hand on him And heavy and sorrowful was his heart, To seek advice of the wise woman, "Since thy solemn vow is unfulfilled, "On nine generations of thy race They may die in the fight, or in the chase, But not in their native hall." He builded there a chapel fair, And rich endowment made, Where morn and eve, by cowled monk, In sable garb arrayed, The bell was rung, the mass was sung, L'Envoy. Such is the tale which, in ages past, On the dreary winter's eve, In baron's hall, the harper blind, In wildest strain, would weave; Till the peasants, trembling, nearer crept, Such is the tale which often yet. Is told to the merry wassail group, But though they tell that the crystal well Still flows by the lovely Wear, And that the hill is verdant still, His listeners shew no fear. And though he tell that of Lambton's race Or in the battle, or in the chase, They shake their heads doubtingly And though he say there may still be seen Tho' the blades are blunt, that once were keen, They do but shake their heads the more, For Knowledge to their view has spread They learn and read, and take no heed And pure Religion hath o'er them shed A holier heavenly ray; And dragons and witches, and mail-clad knights, Are vanished away; As the creatures of darkness flee and hide, But Lambton's castle still stands by the Wear, And Lambton's name is a name of might, 'Mong the mightiest of our isle. Long may the sun of Prosperity Upon the Lambtons smile! J. WATSON. EAR the frowning and rugged crags of Harbottle, in Northumberland, which impart a high degree of sublimity to the adjoining scenery, is the famous "Drake Stone," near the Loughs, which rivals the Bowder Stone in Westmoreland. It is customary with the young men in the neighbourhood to climb up this huge rock, from the top of which there is a fine prospect of the vale below, but it requires considerable dexterity and address to descend. The rustics here relate a story respecting the "Drake Stone" with great glee. On one fine summer evening, a few years ago, a stranger arrived at the village. He entered a public house, and having taken some refreshment, immediately departed. His intention was to ascend the Drake Stone, which he did with little difficulty, and after remaining for some time on the summit of the rock, enjoying the beautiful and extensive prospect, the deepening gloom warned him that it was time to depart, and he therefore set about descending the dangerous rock, but in vain. He looked at the yawning depth below and shuddered at the prospect of attempting to descend; further, the night was closing in, not a human being was in sight, and the poor traveller in an agony of fear was obliged to content himself with remaining on the cold rock with the starry heaven for a canopy. Wrapping himself up in his garments as well as he could, he laid him down. to obtain, if possible, some repose. To sleep, however, was not in his power, the knowledge of his situation made him to lay awake, anxiously awaiting the break of day. Early on the following morn |