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That I shall ever venerate the hero,
That I repent of my ungrateful anger,
And that the hasty hand which snatch'd his
earldom

Will double every grant that it resum'd.
Atonement wins e'en harshness to forgive-
Tosti shall learn to love me. Learn it too.
Before mine eye had wander'd o'er thy form,
Had nestled in the ringlets of thy hair,
Or bath'd in heaven's mild azure in thy
look,

There were, whose arms to Edward's wishes op'd

Their ivory portals, and whose glistening eye

Was dewy with desire that he inspir'd,
Upon whose panting bosom he reclin'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, when be sees EDITHA retiring, comes forward.)

Edw. Yet stay, yet hear, at least look
back upon me.

Wilt thou not grant me, after the repast,
One short half-hour of converse?

prayer.

Heed my

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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. A single hour may overpay it all: Edro. Make me but happy in Editha's love.

Think you to halve the throne with Tosti's daughter, Affianc'd as you are?

Edry. Half of my throne Were still too little to express my passion; 'But England's interests are sacred to me. 1. What must I do? Edw.

Aid me to bear her hence:

And, as thy guest, convey hier to my palace: Here she will never yield, while those are nigh

With whom she has the habit to be virtuous; At Windsor, half resisted, half allow'd, 1 shall obtain my wishes, and forgiveness.

H. She may imagine that I journey with

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Ν

IN former letter I have not meng

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 cxpressed, 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

tively scarce, from the number of 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 of a nosegay composed of those simple adjoining to his cottage, either for a flowers that lie hidden under the hedge potatoe-ground or otherwise, according, which skirts his path, and which the to circumstances. more consequential passenger passes with indifference or contempt.

When political economy was in its in fancy, 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. vii. 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 en creased, 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.

To the Editor of the Monthly Magazine.
WALKS in BERKSHIRE.-No. II.
SIR,

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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 traveller 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 1305, 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 likewise that Elizabeth, queen of Edward IV., was first presented to the people as the consort of their sovereign. 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 acclamans 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 confine the liquid wall, till it acquired the consistency necessary for self-dependence. Some delicate specimens of Saxon taste have been discovered on various solid bodies of hard lime-stone, which formerly con

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 66 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 engagement 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 charins 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 a 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 predatory incursions, our unpolished 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 correctness 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 en couraged such an admiration for nature,

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1810.1

as invariably leads the builder to deem a command of picturesque scenery the first great requisite in the site of a family

mansion.

The village of Sonning, which lies on the margin of the Thames, is one of the most agreeable spots that the fancy can picture. All is seeming tranquillity and The cottages "of simplest repose. form, with coverlets of thatch," are sufficiently numerous to bestow a decided air of rusticity on the general appearance of the village; while many houses of a more eligible description, in which embellishment is added to comfort, give promise of a rational intercourse, and agreeable neighbourhood, to those who are happy enough to "husband out life's taper" in the retirement of this unostentatious village.

Sonning was formerly a place of conThe bishops of siderable consequence. Salisbury held the manor at the time of the Conquest; and the manor-house (which stood at the base of the hill on which Mr. Palmer's modern residence is built) was for many centuries their occasional residence. Isabel, the youthful queen of Richard II. (on whose name, it may be remembered, that ill-fated monarch so pathetically called, when he found himself betrayed to Hereford,) resided at Sonning, during the melan. choly period which occurred between the first imprisonment, and ultimate murder, of the king. Who can walk through this retired village without attempting to retrace the hours of anxiety which were there passed by this distressed, and almost infantile, princess? Torn from her country and friends, and bereft of the gaudy crown which was her only protection, futile indeed must have proved all the soothing charms of this romantic retirement to the unhappy Isabel!

*

were

The tortures of uncertainty
added to the oppressive weight of her
A band of con-
ordinary reflections.

spirators, (for so they must be called,
since the new king was able to retain the
sceptre,) with sir Bernard Brocas (who
lies buried in Westminster abbey) at
their head, persuaded the young and
that Richard had
dethroned queen,

It appears that the marriage was merely
Isabel was not more than
one of form.
twelve years of age when she arrived in
England.

But

escaped from Pontefract castle, and was
ready to join them at Reading. A gleam
of joy, therefore, shone over her solitary
retreat. The conspirators marched from
Sonning, and the queen poured forth un-
ceasing prayers for their success.
her tears were unavailing: Richard was
doomed to perish in captivity, and sir Ber-
nard lost his head on the scaffold; one half
of the country lamenting him as a mar-
tyr, and the other stigmatising his me-
mory with the opprobrium of treason.

The Berkshire side of the Thames,
between Souning and Wargrave, is re-
plete with beauties not more estimable
than they are various. The fertile mea-
dow, an object irresistibly soothing and
attractive,

(For green is to the eye, what to the ear Is harmony, or to the smell the rose,) blends with shady recesses, from which the prospect is caught only through unexpected breaks. But, agreeable as is this bank, the pedestrian must often stop to admire the Oxfordshire hills on the opposite side of the river. On the most picturesque of these elevations, is seated Shiplake-house, the residence of Joha Hanscomb, esq.; and in this retreat, the writer admits that he has spent so many

happy hours, that he might well be suspected of partiality, should be indulge in too florid a vein of description. Yet the real beauty of the situation, and the correct taste of the owner, demand at least a passing tribute of praise.

Shiplake-house was built in the reign of queen Anne, when hospitality was in its zenith; when," instead of being tantalized with a dozen of French dishes, (which no Frenchman, however, would venture to taste,) and stared at by as many French servants, dressed better than yourself or their own master; instead of being dragged out, the moment you have dined, to take a walk in the shrubbery, and wonder at his lordship's bad taste, and then frightened away by the appearance of cards and wax-candles; instead of this refined luxury, I say, you were sure to find a ham and fowls, a piece of roast beef, or a pigeon-pie, and a bottle of port-wine, every day in the week; and, if you chose to spend the night at the house, a warm bed and a hearty welcome." And, very fortunately, the difference of a hundred years has produced little alteration in the temper of Though Mr. the occupiers of this seat. Hanscomb has only within these few

years

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In softer blue; or, less'ning still, is lost
In faintest purple."

At a small remove from Mr. Hanscomb's, is the vicarage-house of Shiplake; a respectable dwelling that demands the attention of the traveller, from the circumstance of it having been the residence of the Rev. Mr. Granger, who there wrote his Biographical History of England. The vicarage is embowered by trees; and the front windows command an extensive and agreeable prospect. The walks in the neighbourhood seem dedicated to solitude and meditation. It was through these shades that Granger rambled, while examining the merits of a Plantagenet or a Stuart; and cold indeed must be the bosom that does not repeat the sigh once heaved on this spot by the historian, as a tribute to those who have long since "acted their parts," and who live only in the tender fancy of their descendants.

A farm-house, on a low plot of ground, termed Burrough Marsh, near which the pedestrian passes in his way to Wargrave, is worthy of examination. This lone dwelling is supposed to have formerly belonged to the knights of St. John of Jerusalem. Interspersed in various parts of the building are stones ornamented with grotesque carving; and one large room (reported to have been formerly a chapel) is wainscoted with oak, and furnished with fixed oaken seats. It is certain, that the knights-templars had formerly considerable property in Berkshire; and the mills in the parish of Bisham yet retain the appellation of the Temple Mills. Burrough Marsh, and its appendages, may therefore have

belonged to these zealous members of the church-militant; but the sculptured ra blets, observable in many parts of the farm-house, are evidently the fragments of some more costly structure.

At no great distance from Burrough Marsh, a branch of the river Loddon enters the Thames: and here is to be seen a piece of military antiquity, which has hitherto passed entirely unnoticed; though Berkshire has produced many literary men, and has been the subject of inquiry with several recent topogra phical writers. I allude to an embankment, which is thrown up on each side of the narrow bed of the Loddon, for the extent of more than a mile; but which is contrived in such an angular form, as to leave a considerable space between the interior of the bank, and the margin of the river. There appears every reason to suppose that this embankment was made by the Danes; who, in their Berkshire devastations, constantly hovered on the borders of the Thames, and who possibly formed this intrenchment as an artificial haven for the small vessels which attended their incursions. It certainly is not known that any battle was fought between the Danes and the English, in the neighbourhood of War grave; but, from the success which crowned the efforts of the invaders at Reading and Wallingford, it is unlikely that the natives of the county would venture to attack the ravagers, in the comparatively strong-hold constructed by them as a place of resource in time of extreme peril.

To the Editor of the Monthly Magazine.

I

SIR,

HAVE lately been reading the Essays on Professional Education of Mr. Edgeworth. This work exhibits the same peculiar characteristics

Reading, Wallingford, and Hungerford, appear to have been the chief stations of the Danes; and it was in the neighbourhood of these three places, that their principal battles with the English were fought. It was probably owing to a surprise from the natives, that they omitted to destroy the "great barn," at Cholsey, which bears the date of 1101, and belonged to that ancient abbey of Cholsey, which was destroyed by the Danes before Reading abbey was founded.

This

barn (which is accurately described by Gilpin,

in his Forest Scenery) is above a hundred yards in length, and is eighteen yards broad. The roof is supported by carved pillars, and the barn contains four threshing-places.

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