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Reading the Newspaper.

The folio of four pages, happy work!
Which not even critics criticize.-Cowper.

A venerable old man is, as the reader of a newspaper, still more venerable; for his employment implies that nature yet lives in him; that he is anxious to learn how much better the world is on his leaving it, than it was when he came into it. When he reads of the meddlings of overlegislation, he thinks of "good old times," and feels with the poet

But times are alter'd; trade's unfeeling train
Usurp the land and dispossess the swain;
Along the lawn where scatter'd hamlets rose,
Unwieldy wealth and cumbrous pomp repose;
And ev'ry want to luxury ally'd,
And ev'ry pang that folly pays to pride.
Those gentle hours that plenty bade to bloom,
Those calm desires that ask'd but little room;
Those healthful sports that grac'd the peaceful scene
Liv'd in each look, and brighten'd all the green;
VOL. I.-26.

These, far departing, seek a kinder shore,
And rural mirth and manners are no morc.

He reads of proposals for extending the poor-laws to one part of the United Kingdom not yet cursed with that sure and certain means of increasing the growth of poverty-he reads of schemes of emigration for an alleged surplus of human beings from all parts of the empire-he reads of the abundance of public wealth, and of the increase of private distress-and he remembers, that

A time there was, ere England's griefs began,
When ev'ry rood of ground maintain'd its man;
For him light labour spread her wholesome store,
Just gave what life requir'd, but gave no more:
His best companions, innocence and health;
And his best riches, ignorance of wealth.

The old man, who thus reads and recollects, has seen too much of factions to be a partisan. His only earthly interest is the good of his country. A change in the administration is to him of no import, if it bring not blessings to the present generation that entail a debt of gratitude upon posterity. Alterations in public affairs, if violently effected, he scarcely expects will be lasting, and loves human nature too well to desire them; yet he does not despair of private undertakings on account of their novelty or vastness; and therefore he was among the earliest promoters of vaccination, and of Winsor's plan for lighting the streets with gas. He was a proprietor of the first vessel navigated by steam, and would rather fail with Brunel than succeed at court.

The old man's days are few. He has discovered that the essential requisites of human existence are small in number; and that in strength itself there is weakness. He speculates upon ruling mankind by the law of kindness; and, as a specimen of the possibility, he kindles good-will with the materials of strife.

Garrick Plays.

No. XXIII.

For what we want in wealth, we have in flowers;
And what we lose in halls, we find in bowers.
Marian. Marian hath all, sweet Robert, having
thee;

And guesses thee as rich in having me.

Scarlet recounts to Scathlock the pleasures of an Outlaw's life.

Scarlet. It's full seven years since we were outlaw' first,

And wealthy Sherwood was our heritage.
For all those years we reigned uncontroll'd,
From Barnsdale shrogs to Nottingham's red cliffs.
At Blithe and Tickhill were we welcome guests ;
Good George-a-green at Bradford was our friend,
And wanton Wakefield's Pinner loved us well.
At Barnsley dwells a Potter tough and strong,

That never brook'd we brethren should have wrong.

The Nuns of Farnsfield, pretty Nuns they be,
Gave napkins, shirts, and bands, to him and me.

Bateman of Kendal gave us Kendal green,
And Sharpe of Leeds sharp arrows for us made.
At Rotherham dwelt our Bowyer, God him bliss;
Jackson he hight, his bows did never miss.

Fitzwater, banished, seeking his daughter Matilda (Robin's Marian) in the forest of Sherwood, makes his complaint.

"Fitz. Well did he write, and mickle did he know,
That said "This world's felicity was woe,
Which greatest states can hardly undergo."
Whilom Fitzwater in fair England's Court

Possest felicity and happy state,

And in his hall blithe Fortune kept her sport;

[From the "Downfall of Robert, Earl of Which glee one hour of woe did ruinate.

Huntingdon," an Historical Play, by T.
Heywood, 1601.]

Chorus; Skelton, the Poet.

"

Skelton, (to the Audience). The Youth that leads yon virgin by the hand,;

As doth the Sun the Morning richly clad,

Is our Earl Robert-or your Robin Hood-
That in those days was Earl of Huntingdon.

Fitzwater once had castles, towns, and towers;
Fair gardens, orchards, and delightful bowers;
But now nor gården, orchard, town, nor tower,

Hath poor Fitzwater left within his power.

Only wide walks are left me in the world,
Which these stiff limbs will hardly let me tread :
And when I sleep, heavn's glorious canopy
Me and my mossy couch doth overspread.

He discovers Robin Hood sleeping;

Robin recounts to Marian the pleasures Marian strewing flowers over him.

of a forest life.

Robin. Marian, thou see'st, tho' courtly pleasures want,

Yet country sport in Sherwood is not scant:
For the soul-ravishing delicious sound
Of instrumental music, we have found
The winged quiristers, with divers notes

Sent from their quaint recording pretty throats,
On every branch that compasseth our bower,
Without command contenting us each hour.
For arras hangings and rich tapestry,
We have sweet Nature's best embroidery.
For thy steel glass, wherein thou wont'st to look,
Thy chrystal eyes gaze in a chrystal brook.
At Court a flower or two did deck thy head;
Now with whole garlands it is circled :

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Prior. What news with you, Sir?

Serv. Ev'n heavy news, my Lord; for the light fire, Falling in manner of a fire-drake

Upon a barn of yours, hath burnt six barns,
And not a strike of corn reserv'd from dust.
No hand could save it; yet ten thousand hands
Labour'd their best, though none for love of you:
For every tongue with bitter cursing bann'd
Your Lordship, as the viper of the land.
Prior. What meant the villains?
Serv. Thus and thus they cried:

66 Upon this churl, this hoarder up of corn,
This spoiler of the Earl of Huntingdon,
This lust-defiled, merciless, false Prior,
Heav'n raineth judgment down in shape of fire."

Old wives that scarce could with their crutches creep,
And little babes that newly learn'd to speak,
Men masterless that thorough want did weep,
All in one voice with a confused cry

In execrations bann'd you bitterly.

Plague follow plague," they cried; "he hath undone The good Lord Robert, Earl of Huntingdon."

[From "Phillis of Scyros," a Dramatic Pastoral, Author Unknown, 1655.]

True Love irremovable by Death.

Serpilla. Phillis.

Serpilla. Thyrsis believes thee dead, and justly may
Within his youthful breast then entertain
New flames of love, and yet therein be free
From the least show of doing injury
To that rich beauty which he thinks extinct,
And happily hath mourn'd for long ago:
But when he shall perceive thee here alive,
His old lost love will then with thee revive.
Phillis. That love, Serpilla, which can be removed
With the light breath of an imagined death,
Is but a faint weak love; nor care I much
Whether it live within, or still lie dead.
Ev'n I myself believ'd him long ago
Dead, and enclosed within an earthen urn;
And yet, abhorring any other love,

I only loved that pale-faced beauty still;
And those dry bones, dissolved into dust:
And underneath their ashes kept alive
The lively flames of my still-burning fire.

Celia, being put to sleep by an ineffectual poison, waking believes herself to be among the dead. The old Shepherd Narete finds

her, and re-assures her of her still being alive.

Shepherd. Celia, thou talkest idly; call again
Thy wandering senses; thou art yet alive.
And, if thou wilt not credit what I say,

Look up, and see the heavens turning round;

The sun descending down into the west,

Which not long since thou saw'st rise in the east;
Observe, that with the motion of the air

These fading leaves do fall:

In the infernal region of the deep

The sun doth never rise, nor ever set;

Nor doth a falling leaf there e'er adorn

Those black eternal plants.

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Are the sweet fields of Scyros. Know'st thou not
The meadow where the fountain springs? this wood?
Euro's great mountain, and Ormino's hill;
The hill where thou wert born?

Thyrsis, upbraided by Phillis for loving another, while he supposed her dead, replies

Thirsis. O do not turn thy face another way. Perhaps thou thinkest, by denying thus That lovely visage to these eyes of mine, To punish my misdeeds; but think not so. Look on me still, and mark me what I say, (For, if thou know'st it not, I'll tell thee then), A more severe revenger of thy wrongs Thou canst not have than those fair eyes. of thine, Which by those shining beams that wound my heart Punish me more than all the world can do. What greater pain canst thou inflict on me, Than still to keep as fire before my face That lovely beauty, which I have betray'd; That beauty, I have lost?

NIGHT breaks off her speech.*
NIGHT. But stay! for there methinks 1 see the
Sun,

Eternal Painter, now begin to rise,
And limn the heavens in vermilion dye;
And having dipt his pencil, aptly framed,
Already in the colour of the morn,
With various temper he doth mix in one
Darkness and Light: and drawing curiously
Strait golden lines quite thro' the dusky sky,
A rough draught of the day he seems to yield,
With red and tawny in an azure field.→
Already, by the clattering of their bits,

Their gingling harness, and their neighing sounds,

I hear Eous and fierce Pirous

Come panting on my back; and therefore I

Must fly away. And yet I do not fly,
But follow on my regulated course,
And those eternal Orders I received
From the First Mover of the Universe.

C. L.

In the Prologue.

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Sir,-Having been in the country during the publication of the first parts of the Table Book, I have but now just bought them; and on perusing them, I find in part 1, col. 112 et infrâ, Mr. C. Lamb's first specimen of the Garrick Plays, called "King John and Matilda;" wherein the said Matilda, the daughter of the old baron Fitzwater is supposed to be poisoned by King John's order, in a nunnery. She is especially entitled therein as "immaculate” "Virtue's white virgin,”—and "maid and martyr." Now, sir, I presume it to be well known, that in the best legends extant of the times of Richard I. and John, this identical Matilda, or Maud Fitzwater, is chronicled as the chère amie and companion of the outlawed Robert Fitzooth, earl of Huntingdon, whom, as "Robin Hood," she followed as "Maid Marian ;" and with whom, on his restoration to his honours by king Richard, (to his earldom and estates,) she intermarried, and became countess of Huntingdon, and was in every respect a wife, though we have no records whether she ever became a mother; and that when by king John the earl was again outlawed, and driven to the wilds of Sherwood forest, his countess also again shared his misfortunes, and a second time took the name of "Maid Marian," (then rather a misnomer,) as he did that of "Robin Hood."

During the first outlawry of Robin Hood, and while Marian, or more properly Matilda, was yet a maid, John (then prince John, Richard being in Palestine) made overtures to the old baron Fitzwalter for his daughter as a mistress, and being refused, and finding she was in the society of Robin Hood and his merry men, attacked them, and a bloody fray ensued; during

This is an error of the poet's. His real name was Fitz-Walter, i. e. the son of Walter.

which, John and Matilda (in the male cos-
tume of forest green) met, and fought:
John required her to yield, and she as
resolutely desired him, in a reproachful
taunt, to win her first; and so stoutly did
she belabour him, as the rest of the foresters
did his party also, that he was constrained
to yield, and to withdraw from a contest in
which nothing was to be got but blows.
We hear nothing more of any attempts of
John's to molest her or her party till after
the death of Richard, and his own accession
to the throne, when he spitefully ousted
the earl and countess from their honours
and possessions, and confiscated all to his
own use; and thus this unfortunate pair,
as I have above stated, were again con-
strained to quit the castle for the forest.

But it is certain, that long before John became king, Matilda, alias Maud, alias Marian, had ceased to be a maid; and we have no account of any attempts whatsoever made by king John upon or against the quondam Matilda Fitzwalter, afterwards alternately Maid Marian and countess of Huntingdon. Indeed all the legends of Robin Hood's life present "Maid Marian" as having lived with him unmolested by any such attempts during the whole of his second outlawry, and as having survived Robin's tragical end; though of her subsequent fate they are all silent, expressing themselves indeed ignorant of what was her destiny. Certainly she may then have retired into a nunnery, but at all events not as Matilda Fitzwalter; for she had been legally married and formally acknowledged by Richard I. as countess of Huntingdon; and as she spent the last part of her fellowship with her husband in Sherwood forest under her romantic forest appellation, it is scarcely probable that she would resume her title on entering into a nunnery. I would presume, therefore, that however and wherever she ended her days, it must have been under the cognomen of "Maid Marian." And as her husband lived for some years in the forest after the accession of John, I should think it scarcely likely that after such a great lapse of time, and after the change which had taken place in Matilda both as regards her worldly station and age, and I should presume person, (from such a continued exposure to the air and weather,) John should renew any attempt upon her. I should therefore feel exceedingly gratified if either yourself or Mr. C. Lamb could adduce any historical facts to reconcile all these discrepancies, and to show how the facts, as supposed in the play of "King John and Matilda," could,

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in the natural course of events, and in the very teeth of the declarations made in the history of Robin Hood and his consort, have taken place.

with her charms, proposed to her father for her as his mistress, (precisely the events connected with Maid Marian ;) and being refused, he attacked Castle Baynard, and ultimately destroyed it. However, for the reasons I have before stated, I am decidedly of opinion, that if such a baron was proprietor of Castle Baynard, it must have been the father of Maid Marian, as I cannot suppose that there were two. I cannot precisely remember, nor have I any thing at hand to refer to, but I believe it was at a tourney somewhere that prince John first saw Maud.

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For the Table Book.

THE PHANTOM LIGHT.

Mark this also;-the historians of Robin Hood and Maid Marian (and their history was written, if not by contemporaries, yet in the next generation; nor is it likely that such a renowned personage should be unnoticed in chronicles for any space of time) all declare that they could not ascertain the fate of Marian after the death of Robin. His death and burial are well known, and the inscription to his memory is still extant; but she was lost sight of from the time of his decease. How comes it then that Robert Davenport, in the 17th century, should be so well informed, as to know that Matilda ended her days in a nunnery by poison administered by order of king John, when there is no tradition extant of the time or manner of her decease? We have no other authority than this of Davenport's tragedy on the subject; and I should therefore be inclined to think that he was misinformed, and that the event recorded by him never happened. As to its being another Matilda Fitzwalter, it is highly preposterous to imagine. Is it likely that at the same time there should be two barons of that name and title, each having a daughter named Matilda or Maud? Davenport Still are the waves that wash this desert shore, calls his baron the old baron Fitzwater; and the father of Maid Marian is described as the old baron: both must therefore have lived in the reign of Richard I., and also in that of John till their death. Indeed we have proof that the baron was alive in John's reign, because Richard I. having restored him at the same time that he pardoned Fitzooth, John dispossessed them both on his accession.

I think it therefore highly improbable that there should have been so remarkable a coincidence as two barons Fitzwalter, and two Matildas at the same time, and both the latter subject to the unwelcome addresses of John: consequently I cannot give credence, without proofs, to the incident in Davenport's play.

I am, Sir,

respectfully yours,
"THE VEILED SPIRIT."

May 17, 1827.

P. S. Since writing the above, my friend F. C. N. suggests to me, that there was a baron Fitzwalter in John's reign, proprietor of Castle Baynard, whose daughter Matilda John saw at a tourney, and being smitten

What phantom light from yonder lonely tower,
Glimmers yet paler than the pale moon beam;-
Breaking the darkness of the midnight hour,-
What bodes its dismal, melancholy gleam?

'Tis not the brightness of that glorious light,
That bursts in splendour from the hoary north;
'Tis not the pharos of the dangerous night,
Mid storms and winds benignly shining forth.

No breath is there to fill the fisher's sail;
Yet round yon isle is heard the distant roar
Of billows writhing in a tempest's gale.

Doomed are the mariners that rashly seek

To land in safety on that dreadful shore;
For once engulfed in the forbidden creek,
Their fate is sealed-they're never heard of more.

For spirits there exert unholy sway-
When favoured by the night's portentous gloom-
Seduce the sailor from his trackless way,
And lure the wretch to an untimely doom.

A demon tenant's yonder lonely tower,

A dreadful compound of hell, earth, and air;
To-night he visits not his favourite bower,

So pale the light that faintly glimmers there.

In storms he seeks that solitary haunt,

And, with their lord, a grim unearthly crew;
Who, while they join in wild discordant chant,
The mystic revels of their race pursue.

But when the fiends have gained their horrid lair,'
The light then bursts forth with a blood-red glare;
whose corses long had tenanted the grave.
And phantom forms will fit along the wave,

C.

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