Deep in the dreary dismal cell,
Which seem'd and was ycleped hell,

This blear-eyed Hag did hide:
Nine wicked elves, as legends sayne,

She chose to form her guardian trayne, And kennel near her side.

Here screeching owls oft made their nest, While wolves its craggy sides possest, Night-howling thro' the rock:

No wholesome herb could here be found; She blasted every plant around,

And blister'd every flock.

Her haggard face was foul to see;

Her mouth unmeet a mouth to bee;

Her eyne of deadly leer,

She nought devised, but neighbour's ill; She wreak'd on all her wayward will, And marr'd all goodly chear.

All in her prime, have poets sung,
No gaudy youth, gallant and young,
E'er blest her longing armes ;
And hence arose her spight to vex,
And blast the youth of either sex,

By dint of hellish charms.

From Glaston came a lerned wight,
Full bent to marr her fell despight,

And well he did, I ween:

Sich mischief never had been known,

And, since his mickle lerninge shown, Sich mischief ne'er has been.

He chauntede out his godlie booke,
He crost the water, blest the brooke,
Then-pater noster done,—

The ghastly Hag he sprinkled o'er;
When lo! where stood a hag before,
Now stood a ghastly stone.

Full well 'tis known adown the dale; Tho' passing strange indeed the tale, And doubtfull may appear,

I'm bold to say, there's never a one, That has not seen the witch in stone,

With all her household

gear.

But tho' this lernede Clerke did well;

With grieved heart, alas! I tell,

She left this curse behind;

That Wokey-nymphs forsaken quite, Tho' sense and beauty both unite,

Should find no leman kind.

For lo! even, as the Fiend did

say,

The sex have found it to this day,

That men are wondrous scant:

Here's beauty, wit, and sense combined, With all that's good and virtuous join'd, Yet hardly one gallant.

Shall then sich maids unpitied moane? They might as well, like her, be stone, As thus forsaken dwell.

Since Glaston now can boast no clerks ; Come down from Oxenford, ye sparks, And, oh! revoke the spell.

Yet stay-nor thus despond, ye fair;
Virtue's the gods' peculiar care;
I hear the gracious voice:
Your sex shall soon be blest agen,
We only wait to find sich men,

As best deserve your choice.

No. XLV.

THE MARRIAGE OF SIR GAWAINE.

From "Percy's Reliques of Ancient English Poetry."

PART I.

KING Arthur lives in merry Carleilę,

And seemely is to see;

And there with him Queene Guenever,
That bride soe bright of blee.

And there with him Queene Guenever,
That bride so bright in bowre:
And all his barons about him stoode,
That were both stiffe and stowre.

The King a royale Christmasse kept,
With mirth and princelye cheare;
To him repaired many a knighte,

That came both farre and neare.

And when they were to dinner sette,
And cups went freely round;
Before them came a faire damsèlle,
And knelt upon the ground.

-"A boone, a boone, O kinge Arthùre,

66

"I beg a boone of thee;

Avenge me of a carlish knighte,

"Who hath shent my love and mee.

"At Tearne-Wadling* his castle stands,

"Near to that lake so fair,

"And proudlye rise the battlements,

"And streamers deck the air.

* Tearne-Wadling is the name of a small lake near Hasketh in Cumberland, on the road from Penrith to Carlisle. There is a tradition, that an old castle once stood near the lake, the remains of which were not long since visible. Tearn, in the dialect of that country, signifies a small lake, and is still in use.