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This Legend is founded upon a tradition current in Northumberland. Indeed, an adventure nearly similar to Sir Guy's, is said to have taken place in various parts of Great Britain, particularly on the Pentland Hills in Scotland, (where the prisoners are supposed to be King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table,) and in Lancashire, where an ale-house near Chorley still exhibits the sign of a Sir John Stanley following an old man with a torch, while his horse starts back in terror at the objects which are discovered through two immense iron gates the ale house is known by the name of the "IRON GATES," which are supposed to protect the entrance of an enchanted cavern in the neighbourhood-the female captive, we believe, is peculiar to Dunstanburgh Castle; and certain shining stones, which are occasionally found in its neighbourhood, and which are called " DUNSTANBURGH DIAMONDS," are supposed by the peasants to form part of that immense treasure, with which the lady will reward her deliverer-In Wallis's "History of the Antiquities of Northumberland," the castle is described as follows:-" It stands on an eminence of several acres, sloping gently to the sea, and on the north and north-west edged with precipices in the form of a crescent: by the western termination of which are three natural stone pyramids of a considerable height, and by the eastern one an opening in the rocks made by the sea, under a frightful precipice, called Rumble Churn, from the breaking of the waves in tempestuous weather and high seas. Above this is the main entrance, and by it the ruins of the chapel: at the south-west corner is the draw-well, partly filled up. It is built with rag and whinstone."

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Up the hill Sir Guy made his courser By, And hoped, from the wind and the rain That he there should find some refuge kind, But he sought it long in vain.

For fast and hard each portal was barred,
And against his efforts proof;
Till at length he espied a porch spread wide
The shelter of its roof.

"Gramercy, St. George!" quoth glad Sir Guy,

And sought the porch with speed; And fast to the yew, which near it grew, He bound his Barbary steed.

And safety found on that sheltered ground.
From the sky's increasing gloom,
From his brow he took his casque, and he
shook

The raiu off, that burthened its plume.

Then long he stood in mournful mood

With listless sullen air, Propped on his lance, and with indolent

glance

Watched the red lightning's glare.

And sadly listened to the shower,
On the clattering roof that fell;
And counted twice the lonely hour,
Tolled by some distant bell.

But scarce that bell could midnight tell,
When louder roared the thunder,
And the bolt so red whizzed by his head,
And burst the gates asunder.

And lo! through the dark a glimmering spark

He espied of lurid-blue;
Onward it came, and a form all flame
Soon struck his wondering view.

"Twas an ancient man of visage wan,
Gigantic was his height;

And his breast below there was seen to flow
A beard of grizzled white.

And flames o'erspread his hairless head,
And down his beard they streamed;
And in his hand a radiant wand
Of burning iron gleamed.

Of darkest grain, with flowing train,
A wond'rous robe he wore,.

With many a charm to work man's harm
In fire embroidered o'er.

And this robe was bound his waist around
With a triple chain red-hot!-
And still came nigher that phantom of fire
Till he reached the self-same spot..

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And prepared on the warrior to spring.

But the wizard's hand extended his wand
And the reptile drooped his crest,
Yet strove to bite in impotent spite
The ground which gave him rest!

And now the gate is heard to grate,
On its hinges turning slow;

Till on either side the valves yawn wide,
And in the wanderers go.

'Twas a spacious hall, whose sides were all
With sable hangings dight;
And whose echoing floor was diamonde do'er
With marble black and white.

And of marble black as the raven's bask
A hundred steeds stood round;
And of marble white by each a knight
Lay sleeping on the ground.

And a hundred shafts of laboured brouze
The fretted roof upheld;

And the ponderous gloom of that vaulted

room

A hundred lights dispelled.

And a dead man's arm by a magic charm Each glimmering taper bore,

And where it was lopp'd, still dropp'd and dropp'd

Thick gouts of clotted gore.

Where ends the room, doth a chrystal tomb
Its towering front uphold;
And on each hand two skeletons stand,
Which belonged to twogiants of old.

That on the right holds a faulchion bright,
That on the left a horn;

And crowns of jet with jewels beset
Their eyeless skulls adorn.

And both these grim colossal kings
With fingers long and lean

Point tow'rds the tomb, within whose womb
A captive dame is seen.

A form more fair than that prisoner's, ne'er Since the days of Eve were known; Every glance that flew from her eyes of

blue,

Was worth an emperor's throne, And one sweet kiss from her roseate lips Would have melted a bosom of stone.

Soon as Sir Guy had met her eye,
Knelt low that captive maid;

And her lips of love seemed fast to move,
But he heard not what she said.

Then her hands did she join in suppliant sign,

Her hands more white than snow; And like dews that streak the rose's cheek, Her tears began to flow.

The warrior felt his stout heart melt,

When he saw those fountains run': "Oh! what can I do," he cried, " for you? What mortal can do shall be done!"

Then out and speaks the wizard; Hollow his accents fall!

"But such keen woe, as never can know Oblivion's balmy power,

With fixed despair your soul will share, Till comes your dying hour.

"Your choice now make for yon beauty's sake;

To burst her bonds endeavour; But that which you choose, beware how you lose;

Once lost, 'tis lost for ever!"

In pensive mood awhile now stood

Sir Guy, and gazed around; Now he turned his sight to the left, to the right,

Now he fixed it on the ground.

" Was never man, since the world began, Could burst that chrystal wall,

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"For the hand which raised its magic frame *Had oft clasped Satan's own;

And he snatched his hand away!

And the lid bears a name-Young Knight

Now his steps he address'd tow'rd the North and the West;

the same

Is stamped on Satan's throne;

Now he turned tow'rds the East and the South:

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"But hark, Sir Knight! and riddle aright
The riddle I'll riddle to thee:
Thou'lt learn a way without delay
To set yon damsel free.

See'st yonder sword, with jewels rare,
Its dudgeon crusted o'er?
See'st yonder horn of ivory fair?
'Twas Merlin's horn of yore!

"That horn to sound, or sword to draw,
Now, youth, your choice explain;
But that which you choose, beware how you
lose,

For you never will find it again :

"And that once lost, all hopes are crost,
Which now you fondly form;
And that once gone, the sun ne'er shone
A sadder wight to warm;

with force,

And from sleep the warriors spring!

And frightful stares each stoney eye,
As now with ponderous tread
They rush on Sir Guy, poising on high
Their spears to strike him dead.

At this strange attack full swift sprang back
1 wot, the startled knight!
Away he threw the horn, and drew
His faulchion keen and bright.

But soon as the horn his grasp forsook,
Was heard a cry of grief;
It seemed the yell of a soul in hell
Made desperate of relief!

And straight each light was extinguished

quite,

Save the flame so Jurid blue

On the wizard's brow, (whose flashings now Assumed a bloody hue,)

And those sparks of fire, which grief and ire From his glaring eye-balls drew!

And he stamped in rage, and he laughed in scorn,

While in thundering tone he roared,

L

"Now shame on the coward who sounded | Whence the neighbours all the knight now

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MILES COLVINE, THE CUMBERLAND MARINER.

A Tale of the English Coast.

William Glen was our captain's name,
He was a brisk and a bold young man,
As brave a sailor as e'er went to sea,
And he was bound for New Barbarie.
The first of April we spread our sail
To a low, a sweet, and a pleasant gale;
But we had not sail'd more leagues than two,
Till the sky grew dark and the tempest blew,
The lightning flash'd, and loud roar'd the sea,
As we were bound for New Barbarie.

call

By "Guy, the Seeker's" name;.
For never he knows one hour's repose
From his wish to find the dame.

But still he seeks, and aye he seeks,
And seeks, and seeks in vain ;
Aud still he repeats to all he meets,
"Could I find the sword again!"

Which words he follows with a groan,
As if his heart would break;
And oh! that groan has so strange a tone,
It makes all bearers quake!

The villagers round know well its sound,
And when they hear it poured,
"Hark! hark!" they cry, "the Seeker Guy
Groans for the wizard's sword."-

Twice twenty springs on their fragrant wings

For his wound have brought no balm; For still he's found. But hark! what sound

Disturbs the midnight calm?

Good peasants tell, why rings that knell ? """Tis the Seeker-Guy's we toll: "His race is run; his search is done."God's mercy on his soul!

Old Ballad.

On the English side of the sea of ❘tion, namely, the cottage of Miles Col

Solway lies a long line of flat and unelevated coast, where the sea-fowl find refuge from the gun of the fowler, and which, save the head-land and the deep sea, presents but one object of attrac

vine, the Cumberland mariner. The owner of this rude dwelling, once a seaman, a soldier, a scholar, and a gen❘tleman, was shipwrecked on the coast about thirty years ago, and was the

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