L I E> RAR.Y 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UNIVLRSITY 
 
 Of ILLINOIS 
 
 823 
 Ap 5e 
 
 V. I
 
 EDGAR: 
 
 A NATIONAL TALE. 
 
 By MISS APPLETON, 
 
 AUTHOR OF PRIVATE EDUCATION, &C. 
 
 God and my Right. 
 
 Edward III. King of England, 
 
 Man he made, and for him built, 
 
 Magni6cent, this world, and Earth his seat, 
 
 Him Lord pronounced j 
 
 Subjected to his service, angel-winga. 
 And flaming ministers, to watch and tend 
 Their earthly charge. 
 
 Milton. Paradise Lost, b, ix. 
 
 To you a Father should be as a God, 
 
 One that compos'd your beauties; yea, and one 
 
 To whom you are but as a form in wax 
 
 By him imprinud; and within his power 
 
 To leave the figure, or disfigure it. 
 
 Shakespeare. Mids, Night's Dream, 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 PRINTED FOR HEXRY COLBURN, 
 
 PUBLIC LIBRARY^ CONDUIT STREET; HANOVER SftUARE. 
 
 1816.
 
 Printed by Cox and Baylis, 
 Creat Queen Street, Lincoln'»-Inn-Ficld*.
 
 ^A 3 
 v./ 
 
 TO 
 
 HER ROYAL HIGHNESS 
 
 THB 
 
 PRINCESS CHARLOTTE OF WALES, 
 
 AND OF 
 
 SAXE COBOURG SAALFELD. 
 
 MADAM, 
 
 Permit a subject to approach the thron« of 
 England, and to lay at the feet of its heir, het 
 exertions in the cause of Virtue ; in the cause 
 of Man ; in the cause of Princes. 
 
 In the work 1 presume to address to year 
 Royal Highness, my aim has been to fire a 
 breast with a brighter glow of loyalty ; to raise 
 a mind to higher exaltation in its sense of 
 piety and virtue, and to register another tribute 
 to the memory of two of the greatest Princes 
 A 2 that
 
 IV DEDICATION, 
 
 that ever wielded the sceptre in England, or 
 administered to the government of her posses- 
 sions in France. 
 
 But neither the ardent affection that beats 
 within me towards this my noble country, nor 
 the faithful and imperishable attachment I bear 
 the great Princes of the reigning dynasty, who, 
 under the God of England, have still further 
 increased her grandeur— increased it to a height 
 before unknown ; — neither of these has been my 
 inducement to the intruding of these volumes 
 into the royal presence — it originated in the form 
 and nature of the work itself, written as it has 
 been, in the idea of establishing a more distinct 
 branch in fictitious literature than has yet been 
 attempted ; and as, with us, the native monarchs 
 and princes are our parents, our patrons, and the 
 promoters of every design, however humble, for 
 the advancement of art and science, so I, in 
 common with this glorious nation, dare to make 
 my respectful claim to the gracious smile of en- 
 couragement, which, for centuries, has not been 
 withholden from the faithful subject, and the 
 anxious and industrious artist. 
 
 It
 
 DEDICATION. V 
 
 It becomes me not at such a moment to make 
 allusions to the event that has in its importance 
 fixed the attention of all Europe, and which in 
 the brightness of its prospects, swells the heart 
 of every Briton with joy — but I cannot resist the 
 delight of joining my feeble voice to that of my 
 countrymen, and of petitioning heaven to bless 
 with its choicest gifts the union of England's 
 beloved Princess, with a Prince of the illus- 
 trious and long cherished House of Saxony. 
 
 I am, 
 M A D A M, 
 
 With the highest respect, 
 
 Your Royal Highnesses 
 Most humble and most dutiful servant, 
 ELIZABETH APPLETON.
 
 TO THE PUBLIC, 
 
 When I first conceived the idea of writ- 
 ing a fictitious work, I resolved upon giving 
 it such a form as might secure it from the 
 appellation of Novel My object was 
 consequently to seek out some respectable 
 foundation for a word which might convey 
 the meaning attached to moral fiction ; and 
 I so far succeeded, as to produce a word,* 
 and an apology to the public for having 
 built my work upon the principles which I 
 myself had therein established. But when 
 the whole was completed and I was pre- 
 pared to usher the work, with its new 
 title, and apology into the world, it was 
 suggested to me by some friends, that the 
 public might not think fit to give its sanc- 
 tion to such innovation, without some 
 previous intimation of the design. 
 
 I have therefore, for the present, aban- 
 doned 
 
 * Epkast. «T0j and castus, chaste narration.
 
 VIU 
 
 doned my intention, and in the title-page, 
 have used the word Tale, which, however 
 vague in its meaning, is sufficiently autho- 
 rized by general use. 
 
 It remains for the public alone to deter- 
 mine, whether these volumes are worthy 
 of a higher rank in literature than that of 
 a Novel, or whether from any merit of 
 sentiment, imagery, or moral, they may 
 be found to possess, the Author may ven- 
 ture to place them in the station assigned, 
 perhaps, with too great partiality, between 
 poetry and prose. 
 
 London, 
 June 4, 1816.
 
 EDGAR 
 
 BOOK I. 
 
 THE PROEM. 
 
 Hail, my Country 1 thou England great- 
 ly superb aud generously tender — guardian 
 of liberty, protector of innocence ; — thou 
 who hast for ages immemorial succoured 
 the oppressed, subdued the proud, and 
 wept on the fallen. Fair isle, which hast 
 a tear for every misery, a hero for every 
 exploit, a heart for every sentiment 5 whose 
 smile is caught up with extacy by surround- 
 ing empires, and whose frown causes nations 
 to tremble. Sweet Albion, I salute thee ! 
 
 And thou Precept, child of virtue, with- 
 out whose influence the soul of man dege- 
 nerates from its noble purpose -, thou who 
 alone drawest the line between civilized 
 man and savage, I bow to thy supreme 
 influence, and I hail thee ! 
 
 VOL. I. B I would
 
 EDGAR. 
 
 I would chaiint thy renown of old, my 
 Country ; Precept, I would tell of thy 
 power ; angel of virtue, guide my pen, and 
 genius of England, do thou inspire me I 
 
 Elgiva, the beauteous lady of the Earl 
 of Mercia, paced the broad ramparts of 
 Restormal Castle,' the noble palace which 
 rose within a mile of the pretty town of 
 Lestwythiel in Cornwall. The night was 
 cold, and the dews of heaven gathered 
 round her tender face ; but still she heeded 
 them not. At times she stopped and ad- 
 dressed the centinel below. " Dost thou 
 hear the trampling of horses, my friend ?" 
 The honest Briton glowed in the sound of 
 his benefactress's voice : he suddenly halt- 
 ed, tossed back the obtruding lock of hair, 
 and strained his generous senses to catch 
 one sound. '' No, my lady," he slow^ly an- 
 swered. — She sighed and measured back 
 her steps. *' What seest thou, my Elgi- 
 va?*' enquired her anxious Earl. ** The 
 light flits away so fast, my lord, that I 
 trust not to vision. If mine ear be not 
 faithless, all is silent, save the clock^ that 
 chimes the hour of curfew : but once more I 
 
 will
 
 B O O K I. ^ 
 
 will t^}^" ** Go then, my life," said the 
 Earl, '' but not ar. I would accompanj 
 thee, but that I might encumber thy path 
 in the twilight — thou rememberest I am 
 blind, my Elgiva 1" " My lord, I remember 
 full Well, and glory in my husband's ho- 
 nours. I recollect the battles he has fought, 
 and the wounds that have scarred his noble 
 visage. 1 recollect the great king he has 
 served, and the fame he has won. I re- 
 member, I reverence, and I love." *' Ge- 
 nerous, most generous of women !" return- 
 ed the prince, and he passed a hand across 
 his sightless orbs to brush the tear which 
 mantled to hh furrowed cheek. The 
 Countess pressed his hand, and bent for- 
 ward to listen. — *' Hush ! surely that sound, 
 my lord — yes — I hear the tread of horses." 
 
 She started from the castle entrance. 
 
 *' Yes, 'tis my son, my lord, 'tis our Edgar." 
 The centinel gave a blast ; it was re-echoed 
 back. The gates unclosed, the steed 
 proudly neighed, and rushed onward to 
 the well known spot : Edgar leaped from 
 his back, and in a moment flung himself 
 at the feet of the tenderest of parents, who 
 B 2 clasped
 
 4* EDGAR. 
 
 clasped him by turns, and in silence, to 
 their bosom. 
 
 Creation! lend thy fairest images, and 
 we will cull from them every beauty, every 
 loveliness, every smile. Then may we paint 
 to the truth, the opening beauty of the 
 young Prince Edgar. 
 
 The azure of heaven's brightest arch 
 stained his large and sparkling vision. The 
 fire of his gaze was tempered by the long 
 dark silken fringe by which it was encir- 
 cled : the whitest marble was less pure than 
 his innocent and spotless forehead, and 
 ethereal blue of the temple sat in graceful 
 harmony between the polished front and 
 glowing downy cheek. The aquiline nose 
 bespoke its dignity, and the vermillion 
 strawberry of the wood is less beauteous 
 in colour and fragrance, than was his 
 smiling lip. Little kid of the mountain, 
 thy youthful mother has fed thee with the 
 sweetest of milk ; the soft herbage has 
 never yet kissed thy snowy tooth, whiter 
 even than snow; — but the tooth of Edgar 
 was whiter and more enamelled than thine 
 — the expression nature had stamped on 
 
 his
 
 B O O K I. 5 
 
 his features was the gratitude of the lily, 
 which drooping under the gaze of a meri- 
 dian sun, suddenly listens to the whisper 
 of a dewy zephyr, which says that he is 
 fled. Chesnut ringlets fell profuse on his 
 fine turned shoulder, and a portly air gave 
 promise of strength in his manly stature. 
 
 Thus and more lovely was Edgar Athe- 
 ling. Heaven had blessed him in a tender 
 heart and a magnanimous soul ; with un- 
 skilful management these gifts might have 
 languished, but Edgar had parents. Fif- 
 teen summers had passed over his head ere 
 he quitted his paternal mansion : the six- 
 teenth enlightened his studious hours in the 
 college of the great Alfred. For twelve 
 months he had not kneeled to his noble 
 father, or embraced the most deserving of 
 mothers:— the time was expired; and not 
 more eager is the young fawn to pursue its 
 dam which bounds from it in the chace, 
 than was his impatient sight to meet the 
 objects of his filial and duteous love. 
 
 Excess of joy during several minutes 
 
 held them mute. Nature smote the ten- 
 
 derest heart, and the mother wept : her son 
 
 B 3 raised
 
 V 
 
 6 EDGAR. 
 
 raised her soft hand to his lip, and felt it 
 moistened with his own delight. The Earl 
 clasped his hands with fervour. " And is,'* 
 said he, " my own child restored ? Does 
 the same youth stand before me who quitted 
 his paternal roof one year since — the same 
 in virtue— in promise ?" *' Oh, my fa- 
 ther,*' replied Edgar, ** the same I hope 
 in anxiety for virtue ; in misdeeds not 
 more guilty. — I have erred, but my pre- 
 ceptor permitted me to embrace my fa- 
 ther.'* «' Then all is well," cried Mer- 
 cia, " and thou art indeed my son — accept, 
 gracious heaven, of my humble praise." — 
 *' Rise, my Elgiva, the supper^ waits our 
 attendance. Edgar, thine arm to lead 
 forward — how must thy form be expanded, 
 my child, for much is my staff raised, since 
 I last pressed it." 
 
 The Countess led the way to the spacious 
 and illumined hall.* She flung open the 
 door, and with a sparkling eye pointed to 
 the darling of her vassals, who was care- 
 fully supporting the chief that they adored. 
 A thousand voices rang with acclamations 
 — the old and the young rushed to seize the 
 
 hand
 
 B O O K I. 7 
 
 hand that the happy youth held to them ; 
 §ome embraced his knees, some kissed his 
 mantle, whilst others looked up to invoke 
 blessings on his head. The great father of 
 heat collects his proud beams, and heaven 
 weeps. He relents, and again sends them 
 forth to illumine the planet. Earth smiles 
 and glistens, whilst gratitude catches the 
 soft homage and paints it on an arched 
 cloud — so tender was the joy of Edgar* 
 
 The tumult at length subsided. The 
 youth respectfully led his father to the seat 
 at the upper end of the central table — he 
 seated the Countess who had stood fixed in 
 maternal pride, gazing upon him, and then 
 conducted the oldest men to the principal 
 places,^ and took his station among the 
 young. The Earl stood ; — ** are my friends 
 arranged ?" — " They are, my lord." — He 
 then slowly repeated a short prayer, waited 
 till the meanest was seated, and then in- 
 dulged himself 
 
 Three tables of an hundred feet in length 
 
 were filled with guests. The pure flocks 
 
 of British sweet pasture ; the bleating calf 
 
 which had two days before, bounded among 
 
 B 4 wild
 
 8 EDGAR. 
 
 wild thyme and marjorum of the southern 
 mountain 5 the fine ox that had tossed his 
 dainty head at the tenderest blade — all had 
 bent to the necessity of man. They graced 
 the hospitable board, submissive to the lord 
 of creation. The sweet-breathing cow re- 
 fused not her share of nutriment ; bowls 
 of the richest cream and milk, with the 
 most healthful roots, and, above all, the 
 staff of life from the least and most gene- 
 rous of plants, were added in noble pro- 
 fusion. No one needed solicitation ; no 
 heart would wrong the host, or draw a crim- 
 son blush of shame on the cheek of the 
 young Baron, by desiring an assurance of 
 welcome. Edgar M^atched his father. — 
 ** Heed me not, my son," returned he ; 
 ** fill the spacious goblet j send round the 
 enlivening mead ; broach the jocund ale, 
 and let merriment shake the vaulted roof.'' 
 Swiftly is the order obeyed. The fer- 
 mented liquor mantles headlong to the sur- 
 face, and turbulently hisses over the brim ; 
 the lip stoops down to kiss the pretty anger, 
 and quells its bubbling rage. Now burst 
 the toasts around. Our brave King Ed- 
 ward ;
 
 B O O K I. 9 
 
 ward ; the invincible heir -apparent the 
 Black Prince — the gracious Queen Phi- 
 lippa — our noble host — rang in peals of 
 honest enthusiasm. 
 
 And now broke forth the laugh — the 
 jest — old veterans stroked the beard, and 
 let loose deeds of old. Presently, one 
 told in big words, the w^ell achieved ex- 
 ploits of his arm. Fire gathered in his 
 eye — *« A song ! — a song for the brave 1'* 
 was shouted. The Troubadour ® ascended 
 the gallery, produced histrombej' his sons 
 accompanied him on the lyre : 
 
 I. 
 
 Bellow, ye trumpets of fame ! 
 
 For whom ? 
 
 For him that is brave, 
 
 That can ride on a wave, 
 
 That can sing on a spear, 
 
 That can grin at death near, 
 
 When country or king needs the same. 
 
 Blast the trump ! 
 
 'Tis for the dead. 
 Hark ! they toss the haughty head. 
 
 II. 
 
 We'll sing all our heroes in turn : 
 Vain thought ! 
 
 B 5 When
 
 10 EDGAR. 
 
 Wlien millions stalk forth, ^ 
 
 Each a wonder in worth, 
 With hot rage in his eye, 
 Born to conquer or die, 
 For Britons all equally burn. 
 
 Blast the trump 
 
 For those that live ; 
 To arms, to arms ! and battle give 1 
 
 III. 
 
 Be hush'd. Shall but War fire the breast ? 
 Ah ! no. 
 
 The warfare shall cease ; 
 Midst laurel and peace, 
 The maiden's soft plea 
 Shall bend the proud knee ; 
 In love is the hero most blest. 
 
 Blow the trump 
 
 In beauty's praise, 
 Love shalll crown thy generous days. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Now range in the liberal hall ; 
 
 Draw near ! 
 
 Take Old England's sweet food. 
 
 And warm the heart's blood ; 
 
 Drink health to the King, 
 
 While freedom shall sing. 
 
 And we join heart and hand to its call. 
 
 Blast the trump 
 
 In Honour's cause ! 
 'Tis for our Liberty and Laws I 
 
 The
 
 BOOK r. 11 
 
 The bard ceased : but the multitude 
 echoed triumphantly words so dear to their 
 feelings. The song was repeated, the cla- 
 mour ceased ; and the keen sensibility of 
 nature crossed the English breast, and glit- 
 tered in the eye. The old harper caught 
 the moment, seized his soul-breathing in- 
 strument, and concluded the entertainment 
 with an address to the Creator, as the whole 
 assembly stood up in respectful silence. 
 
 I. 
 
 Where'er we turn the grateful eye, 
 Unnumbered blessings teeming lie ; 
 Where'er we think, or move, or breathe, 
 Air cheers above, and ear^th beneath. 
 
 II. 
 
 The feather'd tribe forsake their land, 
 And trembling fall at our command. 
 Fishes impulsive quit the deep. 
 To man they fly, and yielding weep. 
 
 in. 
 
 The nobler creature of the field 
 Uplifts in vain his pointed shield ; 
 He feels his fate, the strife in vain. 
 And stoops to meet the knife again. 
 
 JB 6 IV. The
 
 1£ EDGAR. 
 
 IV. 
 The soil resists the piercing steel, 
 But conquering man makes marble feel — 
 The humbled mould obeys her curse, 
 And to the tender grain is nurse. 
 
 V. 
 Man lifts his hand ! Creation bends. 
 Each reptile all its little lends ; 
 Man governs all, in reason blest, 
 His steps pre-eminence attest. 
 
 VI. 
 Be generous, Man ! nor rash thy deed ; 
 For thee they liv'd, for thee they bleed ; 
 Soothe all their cares and ease the yoke, 
 An ass reprov'd a blo^v, and spoke ! 
 
 VII. 
 
 But whence the power that all fulfil? 
 Why fleet the limb, and chain'd the will ? 
 Wliy, with perfection stamp'd on all. 
 Do brutes for man, submit, or fail ? 
 
 VII. 
 Who taught the wing o'er tracts to roam, 
 And quit its downy, smiling home ? 
 WTio whisper'd in the fishes ear, 
 That man would wait, till they drew near ? 
 
 IX. 
 
 Vv'ho taught the ox to yield his strength, 
 And drag the furrows clotted length ? 
 Who blows the fost'ring heat in earth ? 
 Who aids the foliage' silent birth ? 
 
 X. Who
 
 B O O K I. 13 
 
 X. 
 
 Wbo nenr'd the arm of man &o strong, 
 Bat left a will for right or wroxi^ ? 
 Who set him in a caitral sfdiere. 
 Least among Great, but greatest here? 
 
 XI. 
 
 God of all heaT n and earth ! — ^thy word 
 The unirerse obey'd, and beard — 
 Thy laws were fix'd ere heaVn began, 
 Benign to aU, — but most to man ! 
 
 xn. 
 
 Thine be the power and thine the grace : 
 FkxHn thee alone all good we trace ; 
 All thy dread wnks our wvodo- raise. 
 Great God ? accept oarhomble praise ! 
 
 The fiery passions of the asseaibl}' were 
 hushed into a sweet and placid gratitude. 
 They clasped their handU, and in a low 
 murmur repeated their thanks for the mer- 
 cies with which they were surrounded. 
 They then bent to the host, blessed him, 
 and separated for the night. Elgiva fol- 
 lowed her hosband and son to the chapel, 
 where a short service was performed — Ed- 
 gar then embraced his parents, and they 
 all retired. 
 
 The
 
 14} EDGAR. 
 
 The next morning Edgar cheered the 
 dark hours of his father by the relation of 
 whatever was interesting of the university. 
 — " Yes, my father," said he, " methought 
 the world was large enough for me at Re- 
 stormal, when it contained my parents ; 
 yet though my affection remained unshaken, 
 how my sphere of thought became enlarg- 
 ed ! — I looked with other eyes— the world 
 seemed so vast, that I shrunk in mine own 
 insignificance. I was continually gazing 
 in admiration and respect at the venerable 
 professors who had unravelled all art and 
 science, and yet, with modest diffidence, 
 waited to be encouraged to speech. Oh, 
 my father, 'twas beautiful — I blushed in 
 mine ignorance and presumption." ** Didst 
 thou form no friendship, my son ?" enquir- 
 ed the Earl — '< who were thy compa- 
 nions ?"® " Yes, truly, my Lord," said 
 Edgar, *' but my good preceptor permit- 
 ted me not often to leave him, and I loved 
 his society." '' 'Twas well, child ;" said 
 the Earl — " proceed ; name thy friends." 
 
 ** I was caressed by several noble fami- 
 lies, for the relation I bore my great father," 
 
 pursued
 
 B O O K I. 15 
 
 pursued the youth. — '' I felt grateful to 
 all, but my heart was most touched with 
 the kindness of Peter de Lusignan, only 
 son to the King of Cyprus ;^ and that of 
 the Lord Robert de Clifford.'^ The last I 
 have mentioned in my letters — but though 
 I praised, I never yet did him justice. — Oh, 
 my Lord, such valour in his eye — such 
 nobleness of mien — such a generous breast ; 
 so little sensible to his own great merit — 
 he too, a noble and distinguished warrior, 
 for he has fought already for his country ! — 
 and so young — but a few years my elder." 
 " Was the young chief, then, a student?'' 
 said the Earl. — " No, my lord," answered 
 Edgar, " he came not for study, but to 
 visit a kinsman — he knew my preceptor, 
 and we met often. From him I heard a 
 theme I loved — the honour, the exploits 
 the fame, of my father. How did my 
 heart swell with rapture in hearing the part 
 you bore in every battle of Edward, and 
 the heroic young Prince his son I How 
 beautiful did actions look, which, when 
 you recounted them to my infant ear, lost 
 a principal hero !" Edgar gazed with tran- 
 sport
 
 16 EDGAR. 
 
 sport on his father. The Earl's countenance 
 changed, his lip faltered. ** Huvsh, my 
 son—thy warmth of duty urges thee too 
 far. Cease the praise of an old infirm man, 
 who is no longer useful to his country. 
 Tell me more of de Clifford ; I knew him 
 when he was a mere child, he seemed not 
 to promise dishonour to a noble ancestry." 
 '* All that childhood promised of excel- 
 lent, is more than fulfilled in age," said 
 Edgar, with warm pride — ** his heart, his 
 hand, his lip are all truth and ingenuous 
 freedom. There is a fire in all his actions 
 that I love, his rapidity of words even de- 
 lights me. — Then such a thirst of glory- 
 such ardour, such impetuosity, such 
 
 Oh, my lord, I grieve that he could not 
 honour my paternal mansion by his pre- 
 sence." ** I do also regret it," replied 
 the Earl, thoughtfully ; — " I have ever 
 wished my son to hold friendship with the 
 noble in mind, be the station attached 
 what it may ; but when greatness of soul is 
 found in the highly born, when the repre- 
 sentative of a venerable house is seen to 
 equal, nay, exceed in virtue the most illus- 
 trious
 
 B O O K I. 17 
 
 trious of his ancestors, may not this be an ob* 
 ject for the favoured smile of angels ? How 
 dangerous are prosperity and grandeur- 
 how open to flattery, how solicited by in- 
 temperance ! Edgar, it hath been my 
 pride and my happiness to call the most vir- 
 tuous and generous of peers my friend, 
 during nearly my whole life — would to 
 heaven thou hadst such a soother of thy 
 cares through thy existence ; for cares will 
 advance, my child. Youth flits away — 
 trouble warns us of manhood, and grey hairs 
 of eternity — be virtuous, and thou wilt 
 dare to think on this awful word, which 
 equally concerns the whole mass of human 
 beings.*' 
 
 The young Prince was accustomed to his 
 father's grave lessons — he listened with reve- 
 rence and delight Not unfrequently, a tear 
 of sensibility fluttered in his beautiful eye, 
 but this tender and lovely trait of childhood, 
 had not, during nine years — not since the 
 famed battle of Crescy — blessed the sight of 
 the Earl of Mercia ; he judged of the im- 
 pression he made, by the strong or trem- 
 bling tone of his son's voice j and his manly 
 
 breast
 
 18 E D <J A R. 
 
 breast throbbed in the hope that the heart 
 could not be unworthy, that relented in the 
 anxious words of a parent. 
 
 Edgar respectfully waited in silence his 
 father's pleasure — he perceived that the dis- 
 course was not now to be resumed, and he 
 bent his step to the castle entrance, to visit 
 and caress his favourite steed. Presently 
 he heard the trampling of horses in the 
 court-yard, and bounded forward — " A 
 guest, my Lord,'' he cried, *' his air is not 
 of common order." " Haste then !" said 
 the chief — " no matter for quality; the hos- 
 pitality of England concerns not itself with 
 looks. Hasten ; receive the stranger and 
 his friends with every respect — order water 
 to refresh their fatigues — let the best in the 
 castle declare our pride in the honour con- 
 ferred on us :— hasten ; thy mother and I 
 will follow." 
 
 The youth in a moment gained the court; 
 he placed his right hand with inimitable 
 grace on his breast, and with modest frank- 
 ness declared his joy — he held the stirrup, 
 whilst the principal vaulted from his seat ; 
 the other two alighted in the same moment, 
 
 and
 
 B O O K T. 19 
 
 and gave their steeds to the household who 
 strove for the honour, and followed Edgar 
 who led the way. The stranger courteous- 
 ly unbraced his helmet and sword, and de- 
 livered them to the young Prince, who 
 proudly received this assurance of no im- 
 mediate departure,^' and hung them up on a 
 bright lance that jutted from the wall, im" 
 mediately above their heads. ** My Lord 
 of Mercia is well, if I may judge from his 
 courteous son, to whom I presume I owe 
 my kind reception," said the stranger — Ed- 
 gar gracefully replied, whilst he presented 
 the golden ewer to his guest, who vainly 
 strove to release him from the care. A re- 
 past was immediately set before the guests, 
 who satisfied their hurtger, and rose to 
 pledge the noble Earl and his son. The har- 
 per then tuned his sweet chords, and ran 
 through a swelHng peal of harmony. 
 
 Now the Earl entered, the stranger met 
 him ; they embraced, Edgar presented a 
 full goblet— the principal guest quaffed it 
 off, and refreshed and in glee thus spoke. 
 
 *' I come, my lord, from the great Beau- 
 champ Earl of Warwick."** 
 
 " Ah
 
 so EDGAR. 
 
 " Ah generous stranger, what is thy 
 news ?*' — eagerly interrupted Mercia, " how 
 fares my noble, my best friend ?" 
 
 " He is well, my lord. And please ye to 
 know, as I have the honour to be his knight, 
 I am entrusted with different matters, but 
 the chief, that he purposes to visit Restor- 
 mal in two days. My name. Sir, is John de 
 Pelham.'^^^ 
 
 " Most welcome ! — most welcome. Sir 
 John, is the news. — ^^So soon too ! — Heaven 
 be thanked ; yes the converse, the endear- 
 ment of an old friend are the balm of life — 
 once more to meet ! — valiant stranger, canst 
 thou conceive the joy that dances this old 
 heart? — we were young together — we saw 
 into each other's minds — his habit was mine — 
 we fought together. Oh Sir ! when I lost 
 him, methought I had a new language to 
 learn. Ha! brave Warwick, my trusty friend, 
 wilt thou indeed come once more to em- 
 brace the shattered remains of Mercia ?"' 
 
 Edgar had never before witnessed such 
 agitation in his father— he wondered — yet 
 was he strongly touched; but he was young 
 and knew not the deep root of a virtuous 
 
 passion
 
 B O O K I. 21 
 
 passion — this knight respectfully paused, and 
 then continued : 
 
 " Suffer me, my Lord, to relate other 
 particulars with which I am charged. Our 
 gracious Edward has invested the most he- 
 roic Prince his son, with the title of Duke 
 of Aquitain,'^ and has added the gift of all 
 our possessions in France." 
 
 " Doth that noble Prince leave England 
 then?" eagerly inquired ihe Earl. — Oh I 
 why am I a useless being to my country ? 
 born to defend her rights, yet am I inert — 
 generous, invincible Edward, honour of 
 England and its boast ! — Heaven prosper 
 thee in thy virtues, and save thee to a peo- 
 ple that adores thee ! — Pardon, Sir Knight, 
 I will interrupt no more." — 
 
 ** You well know, my lord," said de 
 Pelham, " of the siege of Calais,** imme- 
 diately after the battle of Crescy ; of its ob- 
 stinate resistance ; of its surrender ; of our 
 gracious Queen's entreaties to spare the con- 
 demned citizens ; of our entry into Calais, 
 and of the treachery of the French com- 
 manders, and violation of the most sacred 
 truce agreed on." That truce so violated was 
 
 again
 
 S£ EDGAR. 
 
 again ratified, and has been continued from 
 time to time till now. Terms have been 
 repeatedly offered on our part ; the inheri- 
 tance^^ of England has been more than ques- 
 tioned, and justice calls aloud for redress. 
 The glorious Black Prince is visiting bis 
 earldom of Chester, ^^ and from thence is 
 travelling southward with the Earls of War- 
 wick and Stafford in his court. To-morrow 
 the great Beauchamp will crave leave, and 
 cross the hills to embrace his well beloved 
 friend 5 for these, my Lord, are his very 
 words. He will then take farewell of 
 his lady and beauteous family, and embark 
 with the most valiant young Edward for his 
 city of Bourdeaux. Princely doings will 
 enliven the great city of London on the 
 return of Edward of Wales from this little 
 tour. Rumour murmurs many a gallant 
 feat to be performed for the entertainment 
 of the king's son ere he departs for the 
 distant camp. — Oh, my lord, how doth 
 glory burn in every breast ! The old, the 
 young, the lowly, the rich, all rush to the 
 invincible stamlard of Britons ! — Misery lie 
 on those who fight in a bad cause. Ours is 
 
 that
 
 B O O K I. ^3 
 
 that of justice. — And in their right will God 
 protect Britain's sons, if they remember 
 him ; may England cease to be, when 
 she no longer deserves the protection of 
 heaven." 
 
 ** And be that wish mine ! *' exclaimed 
 the Earl with fervour. 
 
 The generous nestling weakens at the 
 dawn of day. The lark, his sire, flutters 
 on the edge of his little dwelling, gently 
 rises, and swells in soft cadence ; by degrees 
 his song bursts into proud strength, and 
 mingles with aether, whilst the elevated bird 
 disappears to mortal eye : the young one 
 gazes, as hereditary nature beats his young 
 blood, and distends every quivering vein 
 with emulation of like renown. So flutter- 
 ed the pure stream that warmed the heart 
 of Edgar, at the recital of de Pelham ; he 
 gazed in speechless anxiety, delight and 
 feope. "Why should he not join this famous 
 expedition ? his age exceeded that of the 
 Black Prince when he gained the great battle 
 of Crescy — yet, should he solicit leave, and 
 his father, blind, labouring with infirmity, 
 and himself the only solace to both parents ? 
 
 Thus
 
 24 EDGAR, 
 
 Thus argued the youth for two hours within 
 himself — thus he debated in silence, till he 
 was roused for the evening repast. After it 
 was concluded, he attended the knight to 
 his chamber, holding the lamp. The good 
 Sir John guessed the rising emotions of his 
 soul, in the eagerness of his accent, and in- 
 vited him to conversation by his questions. 
 Edgar glowed with pleasure as he listened to 
 various feats of arms, he forgot time ; and 
 the doubled-sanded hour fell, and shewed 
 midnight, ere he sought his own apart- 
 ment. There agitated and restless he threw 
 himself on the couch ; but at length his 
 eyelids closed in the sleep of innocence and 
 peace.
 
 B O O K II. 25 
 
 ^ BOOK II. 
 
 THE PROEM. 
 
 Simplicity, lovely maid ! whence is thy 
 birth, since thou art equally caressed by 
 nature and art ? — since each lays equal claim 
 to thee ? didst thou descend from heaven, 
 or art thou the shade of our first parents 
 ere they wept ? whence can be thy sw^eet 
 power which ennobles the fairest works of 
 man ; thy touch, which melts a heart ; and 
 thy soft breath that steals over the sense 
 which till then never longed to burst the 
 chain of mortality ? Unassuming thou art, 
 and yet magnificent ; tender yet heroic ; 
 gentle, and yet mayest be sublime. I see 
 thee musing in the tranquillity of silent 
 groves, or the lisping brook, and I behold 
 thee assisting at the crash of elements, and 
 fall of worlds — still art thou the same ; con- 
 sistent, noble, affecting ! — O Simplicity, dis- 
 dain not the offering we would make thee ! 
 fly not, when we bend to catch thy young- 
 est smile !— - 
 
 The bright cherubim of heaven at the 
 
 great command of The Eternal, rolled back 
 
 VOL. I. c the
 
 g6 EDGAR. 
 
 the ponderous globe on its axis, and gave 
 day. Edgar shook oflP sleep, and sprang 
 forward to hail the return of light. He 
 flung a mantle over his shoulder, passed the 
 gal^, and ascended a hill whicli granted a 
 wde prospect. On one side, the park of 
 Rfestormal; on the other, the town of Lest- 
 wythiel j in front, the river Fowey and the 
 Ocean. All nature seemed eagerly busy 
 to meet the gravity and splendour of the 
 sun, which threw his messengers in various 
 directions to give notice of his approach ; 
 mists, that had been assiduously employed 
 in stiffening grass which the playful heifer 
 had bent ; in feeding plants that had been 
 too rudely kissed by the saucy bee ; in al- 
 laying the thirst of a soil, grown callous by 
 sporting in the wind, now rapidly gathered 
 themselves in order to retire. The glow- 
 worm no longer trusted to his little rays, 
 and reposed in his burrow ; whilst the owl, 
 in a reverse of nature, prepared for sleep. 
 Birds chirped to awaken their youngkindred, 
 and then pitched their voices to the con- 
 cert ; the cattle of the field shook their furry 
 coats, opened the full eye, and kindly trim- 
 med
 
 B O K II. 27 
 
 med one another by turns ; the bind-weed, 
 the passion-flower, and honeysuckle flung 
 open then' gates, and the sun-flower strained 
 his yellow neck to be foremost ind uty. 
 
 At last the glorious orb burst forth in full 
 majesty — he \vas not insensible to the kind 
 welcome of nature, and he blushed in deep 
 satisfaction — presently he sparkled in blazes 
 of light, and threw around a healing warmth 
 which cheered every thing living by its in- 
 fluence. 
 
 The tender breast of Edgar wslS pro- 
 foundly touched by the lovely smile of cre- 
 ation. " God of heaven!" cried he, " and 
 are these thy blessings all for man ? ha^t 
 thou made so vast, so wondrous, so beau- 
 teous a world for him to inhabit? why. 
 Lord, need we be surrounded by such per- 
 fection in the animate and silent of thy 
 works, but that thy finger might be every 
 where visible? for whatever is from thee, is 
 perfection ! have we not millions of creatures 
 at command which are only for thy glory ? 
 for we know not even their use; yet to see, 
 to hear them is delight. The tender myri- 
 ads that inhabit a leaf; the wondrous nuna- 
 c 2 bers
 
 S8 EDGAR. 
 
 bers that soar in the air ; the ponderous 
 monsters that sail in the deep — all bespeak 
 thy power, and our dependance upon thee. 
 Yet, great God ! are all these so perfect, so 
 beautiful, yet are they for man ! the least 
 among them is a monument of thy wisdom 
 and goodness. The innocent and generous 
 redbreast, that now fixes his bright black 
 eye upon mine, and nods his tender head 
 to gain my confidence — even this little 
 creature, how beautiful are his winning ac- 
 tions, how admirable his little mind as far 
 as it extends ; how amazing his powers of 
 sound; how delicate his perfect limbs ; how 
 rich his coloured plumage, how harmonious 
 the order of his little vitals ! what prodi- 
 gality of beauty and perfection in one sin- 
 gle object! — how far beyond the compre- 
 hension of mortals, much more the execu- 
 tion. Who but Thou could stain his brilliant 
 eye, and give it sense ? — who could bind up 
 the movement of his little heart, and bid it 
 beat to time ? who could enfold a vein in his 
 slender leg, and fill it with a brisk and ani- 
 mated fluid ? what language could teach 
 him, that if he expanded his wing, the air 
 
 would
 
 B O K II. 29 
 
 would grant him a path upward ?, and final- 
 ly^ what art could form the most trifling 
 feather of that wing? — Lord! we see, we 
 feel, but we cannot express the homage we 
 owe thee— 'tis all we knovf that we are dust 
 and weakness, and that Thou art excellence 
 
 and mercy ! " 
 
 The youth gazed awhile around hira, 
 and then turning down the declivity, re- 
 gained the castle. His mother stood near the 
 porch, and tenderly embraced him. ^' Hope 
 of my life 1 " said she, '^ where hast thou 
 strayed ? thy father has enquired for thee.*' 
 '' Dearest of mothers ; " replied Edgar, " I 
 have been climbing yon hill, to observe the 
 rising sun — how lovely is nature, when 
 light dawns upon her!" " Happy, happy sea- 
 son of youth," exclaimed the Countess. 
 ** Yes, my child, I have felt all thy gene- 
 rous emotions; my heart has seemed to 
 spring from my breast, in the enthusiastic 
 gratitude of early days. Nature is evei 
 the same, but I am a mother and a wife — 
 I adore the Creator, but in my thanks for 
 his mercies, my husband and my son only 
 are present — I would supplicate mercy for 
 c 3 myself,
 
 30 EDGAR. 
 
 myself, and I find I am entreating blessings 
 upon them* Go on ; open thy heart to eve- 
 ry sentiment of gratitude, and blessings 
 shall attend thee/' Edgar clasped the ex- 
 tended hand, and pressed it to his bosom. 
 
 The hall was as usual filled with guests. 
 Sir John de Pelham led the Earl to his 
 seat ; Edgar respectfully saluted both, and 
 took his own. Presently the Earl arose ; 
 the assembly was hushed into silence, and 
 he thus spoke : 
 
 " My Countrymen and Friends, 
 
 *' In an assembly of Britons, in an as- 
 sembly of the most generous people on 
 earth, I rise to open a subject dearer to 
 tkem than life j the good, the honour of 
 their country. 
 
 *< You all know (did ye not learn it on 
 the mother's breast?) that England is not 
 to be injured with impunity. With her 
 the word Right is life and liberty— whoever 
 the man, be he sovereign or menial, who 
 will dare to infringe it, with him she will 
 expostulate, she will threaten, and if with- 
 out effect, she will execute. England is 
 generous : who ever saw her trample on 
 
 the
 
 B O O K II. 31 
 
 the fallen ? She is just. Who among guil- 
 ty is safe, and who of innocent is in dan- 
 ger ? She is valiant : which of empires has 
 not trembled, when she chastised? How 
 then ? Is any power so mad as to provoke 
 her ? Has any had the audacity to breathe 
 a wish on what she holds so dear ? Has 
 any finger approached even in semblance to 
 her possessions, her rights ? Can I proceed ? 
 Which of you does not know, that for 
 nearly three centuries, the finest provinces 
 of France have belonged to the crown of 
 England, and that the whole is now hers ? 
 By war, by right of conquest? No. — By 
 treaty then? No. — By usurpation? What! 
 England usurp ? England so tenacious of 
 her rights ! England so famed for justice ! 
 — England an usurper ! Perish then all 
 human constitutions and governments. 
 No, my friends, not by usurpation. — By 
 what then ? By hereditary right.'* How, 
 my countrymen? Shall the great law of 
 nature be violated? Shall the poor bird 
 pluck from his breast the down to line his 
 habitation, and shall his nesthngs unfledged 
 perish on the damp earth ? Shall one of you 
 c 4 raise
 
 3^ EDGAR. 
 
 raise a house and purchase an acre— shall 
 you have toiled for these by the sweat of 
 your brow, and will you be content in the 
 thought, that the sweet babe who twine& 
 his arms around you, or the lovely virgin 
 who has supported your declining age — 
 will you be content, I say, that either 
 should be torn from your corse whilst it is 
 yet w^arm, and be driven as an outcast from 
 home — (home ! how dear is the very sound 
 to an English breast) — to have no farther 
 comfort, hope, or means of existence ? Is 
 there one breast here that is not fired 
 in this cause of kings, of nobles, of all 
 mankind ? — Behold here no light wrong- 
 no peevish demand : 'tis nature, justice, 
 honour, humanity — 'tis the cause of every 
 man : for what man has not a wife, or a 
 friend, a child, or a brother ? Gift, testa- 
 ment, property, possession, nay, law itself 
 are words to laugh at, if this injury be 
 permitted. Rise then, my friends, rise, 
 and crowd to the standard of your king. 
 Rise 5 I give you the banner of Mercia ; 
 I give you my son, my beloved and only 
 child for a leader, under the Great Beau- 
 
 champ^,
 
 B O O K II. 33 
 
 champ, Earl of Warwick ; as he again is 
 immediately under the illustrious, the gene- 
 rous Prince of Wales. Britons ever were 
 favoured by heaven, and invincible must 
 they be with such protection. Rise then 1 
 To Arms 1 and Death or Victory be the 
 word." 
 
 The sparry and magnificent vaults of 
 Derby open their mouths to the traveller 
 who enters ; wondering, doubting, listen- 
 ing to the dread solemnity. The guides 
 approach — a thousand miUions of lights 
 sparkle, burn, multiply on the clear and 
 vitrified mass for distance immeasurable. — 
 He proceeds. The rushing streams howl 
 from their thousand chasms ; rock dashes 
 sound against rock ; winds roar through 
 grinning crevices, whilst horror sits laugh- 
 ing by the edge of a bottomless whirlpool, 
 and leaning over, stirs it with a reed. The 
 feelings of awe, delight, confusion, dis- 
 may, eagerness and anxiety belonging to 
 the traveller were those of Edgar ; the 
 howl of nature was as the tumultuous voice 
 of the assembly upon the words of Mercia. 
 — ** All ! all to a man ! we are all ready 
 c 5 to
 
 S4t EDGAR. 
 
 to stand by our king ^ his cause is ours, 
 justice leads, we will follow." — " Stop, 
 my friends : Britons in heart and soul I 
 knew ye were," interrupted the Earl. 
 " Husbands, range yourselves to the right — 
 fathers, to the left — youths, stand in front. 
 First, let the young be numbered and 
 chosen in their country's service ; second- 
 ly, rtie husbands who are not yet blessed 
 with offspring — let my son be classed with 
 the first. How many are the two divi- 
 sions?" " Three hundred and fifty, my 
 lord." " Strike off the fifty— let the three 
 hundred advance, and give their names to 
 the brave knight here, who will signify 
 their zeal to his lord." Again the hall 
 re-echoed with shouts — *' Victory or Death 
 under the conquering Edward — Beauchamp 
 shall lead us 5 the banner of Mercia shall 
 flap over the young chief, and remind us 
 of the deeds of our fathers." Edgar con- 
 fused, overwhelmed, felt the rush of glory 
 swell in his breast — he panted — his eye 
 flashed impatience— a deep carnation grew 
 to his cheek 5 his stature expanded, whilst 
 every limb braced itself to the attitude of 
 
 defiance
 
 B O O K II. 35 
 
 defiance — he caught his mother's pensive 
 gaze — he was recollected, and hastened 
 towards her. She embraced him in silence. 
 He turned to the Earl, and bent on one 
 knee to thank him for granting honours un- 
 solicited. ** Heaven bless thee !" said the 
 parent, *' and make thee worthy thy great 
 country, whether thy blood be spilled for 
 her, or that thy life be preserved to oifer 
 another example of virtue. Lead forward, 
 Edgar, I would retire." The youth con- 
 ducted his father to the inner apartment. 
 " Leave me, child," continued he, " vehe- 
 ment speech disorders my shattered frame. 
 I would be quiet for a time ; come hither 
 in an hour." — *' Are you then ill? Oh, 
 my father," cried the youth. — *' Hush ! 'tifi 
 nothing, my son, retire : and meet me 
 again at noon." Edgar slowly obeyed, 
 trembling and gazing on the pallid cheek 
 of his father. 
 
 Conflict was now let loose. The Earl had 
 been the man, but now he was alone, and 
 the father. His agony unclosed the breast 
 wound that had never entirely healed since 
 the exploits of Crescy : but he felt not the 
 c 6 smart ;
 
 ^6 EDGAR. 
 
 smart; for what is pain of body when 
 mind suffers ? <« Oh ! my country, my coun- 
 try ; do I love thee ? Art thou not dear to 
 me, infinitely dearer to me than life, since 
 I have given thee mine only child? A 
 being that I have watchetl over during 
 sixteen years; that I have nurtured, mo- 
 delled, taught? And how sweetly has he 
 imbibed every precept of virtue ! How, 
 when I was permitted to look on his infant 
 lip, have I marked its innocent tenderness ; 
 in that eye what eagerness upon every vir- 
 tuous sentiment ! And what promise now 
 in his unfolding youth ! Yet there is an 
 Almighty, whose purest angels guard the 
 good — and my son is innocent : will he 
 not be their care? What, if he die in the 
 field of glory, will not his happiness be 
 immediate and everlasting — and if he live, 
 may not the strength of passions precipi- 
 tate him into disgrace ? My son a degraded 
 being ! impossible ! Surely, never shall he 
 who sinks into deep foundation, see his- 
 work fall with the first blast. Can the 
 precept, instruction, and tender practice 
 of virtue for years, from infancy, be blown 
 
 off
 
 B O O K II. 37 
 
 oiF as the down of the thistle ? Oh, ne- 
 ver, never-^perfection belongs not to man ; 
 my son is mortal, but not vicious : if he 
 live, it cannot be for dishonour ; if he die, 
 he shall be happy." So murmured the Earl. 
 Hope rose and smoothed his ruffled brow — 
 his grief was lightened — he groped to the 
 casement, flung it open, and was cheered 
 by the pure breath of heaven. 
 
 Edgar was slowly pacing the gallery when 
 the Countess advanced. ** Go not in the 
 chamber ; my father commanded me to 
 leave him awhile." ** Did he so, my 
 child?" said the lady, ** let us then bend 
 our steps to the rampart. My heart is 
 heavy, Edgar. Thou wilt soon be far 
 away from thy mother ; — listen now to 
 what her anxiety for thee would dictate." 
 ** Tenderest of mothers," replied Edgar, 
 ** mine ear has ever been delighted to catch 
 those loved sounds — but dear, most dear, 
 will be every word, which by so little, thus 
 precedes our separation." 
 
 " Of thy virtue, at present, my beloved 
 child," continued the lady in an anxious 
 tone, ** I have no doubts. All our anxiety, 
 
 our
 
 38 EDGAR. 
 
 our hopes, our care, are for the future. 
 Hitherto, my love, excepting in the last 
 year, thy father and I have never endured 
 thine absence from the castle ; and even at 
 the college, we confided our precious charge 
 to the worthy prelate, thy father's early 
 friend, in whom we could trust. Thy coun- 
 try calls for thy services at a tender age. 
 England is also the land of my nativity, 
 and I repine not. Every one is fixed in a 
 station, and has his allotted duties to per- 
 form ; no object of creation is born to 
 idleness ; the duty of w^oraan is to be the 
 ornament of home, that of man to be the 
 honour and protector of his country. High 
 birth exempts not from one duty, but calls 
 for fuller virtue — all mankind look upward 
 for example ; the higher the station, the 
 more severe the responsibility. Thine is 
 a great part to fulfil in life — may our wishes 
 be rje^lized. 
 
 " Edgar, thou art young : thy breast is 
 tender. Thou knowest not the force of 
 passions ; but the time will come, when 
 thou shalt feel their power. Man is born 
 to endure^ — sorrow is his portion — expect 
 
 it
 
 B o o K ir. 39 
 
 it in common with all, and stand prepared 
 for disappointment. I would not depress 
 thy noble ardour, but shew thee that those 
 moments of happiness that may be given, 
 are not owing to human deserts, but are 
 from omnipotent mercy. Oh Edgar, my 
 son, in this awful hour, when all the 
 mother swells round my fond and weak 
 heart, and forebodes that thou mayest be 
 listening to her counsel for the last time ; 
 let me conjure thee to remember and re- 
 vere her instructions. Never let any daring 
 hand or vicious example lead thee from the 
 path of duty. Dare to be good amongst 
 the sinful — the naughty will profess to dis- 
 like thee, but inwardly they will respect and 
 admire. Thou art going to battle in a dis- 
 tant country, where thou will meet with 
 all ages, principles and practices. Various 
 are the chances of war. Heaven alone 
 can know the fate in reserve for thee ; but 
 if adversity press hard, remember life flits 
 away, and setteth trouble at nought ; but 
 that virtue is immortal. Whether thou be 
 in the depth of the gloomy cave, in front 
 of the raging war, or in the frail bark 
 
 riding
 
 40 EDGAR. 
 
 riding among storms ; remember, child of 
 my bosom, the piercing eye that can wit- 
 ness and mark down all thy minutest ac- 
 tions. What are mortal sufferings ? An 
 end they must have ; and what delight is 
 there in the recollection of a glorious life — 
 in the praise of good and great men —in the 
 approbation of our country — in the extacy 
 of friends — in the applause of posterity — in 
 the smile ana sympathy of angels ! Oh, my 
 son, even one of these enjoyments can 
 swell the soul of a woman — of thy mother, 
 dau2:hter as she is, and wife to illustrious 
 heroes. One such reward is sufficient to 
 fill a mortal with ardour and emulation, 
 and to balance ages of bodily suffering. 
 What, when all are united ! Edgar, thou 
 wast an infant, a child ; thou art now ap- 
 proaching to manhood. By all the care, 
 the anxiety of thy parents through the 
 stages of life, remember our precepts. 
 When thou wast born, delicacy seemed 
 to flutter on thy little cheek. How has 
 thy mother wept over thy innocent fea- 
 tures, and petitioned heaven for thy life ! 
 She left her warm couch in the bleak nights 
 
 of
 
 B O K II. 41 
 
 of snow, to lean over thee, fearing thy 
 sleep was hurried. She fed thee from her 
 breast, and hid thy little tear with her lip, 
 whilst her heart beat lest she should have 
 pressed thee too strongly in her embrace. 
 "With dishevelled locks and weary limbs 
 she strained to assist thy snowy foot that 
 essayed to press the ground ; and when 
 she had patiently taught thee for days, 
 how did her eye sparkle as thou didst repay 
 her with one lisping sound ! Reward this 
 mother for her tenderness. Requite thy 
 father for his kind precept and instruction 
 — fully reward botii, my son, and be vir- 
 tuous !" 
 
 The Countesfs overpowered by emotion, 
 flung her arms around her son's neck and 
 wept. The youth, profoundly affected, 
 could scarce reply — " my dearest parents, 
 may heaven bless me as I deserve your 
 love.'' " Enough, my child," cried the 
 lady, " my heart is eased. Let us return 
 to thy father." 
 
 The Earl had requested the Knight's 
 company, and vvhen Edgar and the Countess 
 entered, was in pleasant converse with him. 
 
 <« Welcome
 
 42 E 1-) G A R. 
 
 " Welcome, my Elgiva — Edgar, the va- 
 liant Sir John desires my history of the great 
 Beauchamp — he will needs have it, that I, 
 as his friend, must know more than the 
 world. 'Tis a noble theme to sound the 
 praise of a glorious friend, and I rejoice 
 that thou should'st be here, my son, while 
 I speak. 
 
 " As a long line of illustrious ancestors 
 cannot dignify a degraded representative, 
 so are they an additional honour to a 
 noble descendant. It were too large a task 
 to recount the great deeds of Warwick's 
 fathers, or to trace back a peerage which 
 for so many centuries hath ennobled British 
 land.^° I say nothing of the vaHant Earl 
 Guy known all over the world, whose arm 
 was ever raised in the cause of virtue and 
 glory, who bled for his king,^^ encountered 
 hosts, and sustained the honour of his coun- 
 try over all parts of the world, of whom 
 are so many vestiges, which to this day, 
 speak his extraordmary prowess — him and 
 others who have gloriously filled their high 
 stations, I pass over, to rest upon the great 
 Thomas Beauchamp, my loved friend — a 
 
 man
 
 B O K II, 43 
 
 man more favoured of his sovereign for his 
 great deserts* than any who ever went be- 
 fore him. Happy the subject that possesses 
 virtues, happier the monarch who can see 
 and reward them ! 
 
 ** The birth of Thomas Beauchamp pre- 
 ceded mine by several years. His father 
 died in 1315, and left him a child of only 
 two years of age. My father (the grand* 
 son of the third king Henry) and the Lord 
 Mortimer, being guardians, had the young 
 Earl in charge by turns. Let no one as- 
 sert that friendship can subsist but between 
 persons of similar taste ; so that goodness 
 be the foundation I am bold to pronounce 
 that friendship between persons of oppo- 
 site temper, may be the most lasting. In 
 childhood I was reserved and thoughtful j 
 he lively and of many words. In our sports, 
 in our studies, we preserved the same cha- 
 racter. I wished to convince by proof; he 
 from the sprightliness of his fancy I loved 
 his generous gaiety ; and he esteemed, as 
 he was wont to say, my prudence. We 
 I both 
 
 I * Biographica Britannica.— Collins.
 
 44 EDGAR. 
 
 both delighted in the manly exercises of 
 our country, but in them he generally ex- 
 celled me. At quoits, the eestus, ball, 
 wrestling, if ever I defeated him, it was 
 because my age gav^e me stronger mus- 
 cle, and that he, laughing, disclaimed all 
 attention to skill. The lady, his mother, 
 has often trembled to see him mount the 
 uncurbed steed and scour the plain, whilst 
 the proud beast tossed his head and strove 
 to dismount him. Twice in the hot pur- 
 suit of the stag, has he plunged in the 
 Avon, the sweet river that flows through 
 his lands, when it was swollen by heavy 
 rains ; and twice ere he had seen twelve 
 years, was he rescued by a timely hand 
 from a watery grave." 
 
 " Ah ! Sir, I have heard,'' interrupted 
 Sir John, ** that the friendly hand was that 
 of my Lord of Mercia; 'twas bravely done." 
 " Nay, Sir," resumed the Earl, " he must 
 poorly love who sets so high a price on 
 his own existence. Life is not worth the 
 having, if there be none for whom we would 
 risk our own. 'Twas a mere impulse of 
 nature. 
 
 " As 
 
 i
 
 B O O K II. 45 
 
 *' As my friend advanced to manhood, he 
 was more and more loved by all. The third 
 Edward received his homage by special fa- 
 vour, when he was four years under age ;* 
 and he then took upon him the hereditary 
 office of Sheriff of Worcester and Chamber- 
 lain of the Exchequer. 
 
 *« Ere he had seen twenty years, the king 
 was pleased to make him Governor of 
 Guernsey and the little adjacent isles. — 
 Ever beloved of the monarch, he has at- 
 tended him in all his wars, whether by sea 
 or land. Dupline, Halydown, Crescy, and 
 Calais, felt his mighty arm - but at length he 
 sheathed his sword, and bowed to the charms 
 of the Lady Catherine, daughter of Roger, 
 Earl of March — and as he had a fine per- 
 son and an exalted reputation, the lady con- 
 sented to plight her faith, and the pair were 
 united in the presence of Edward and his 
 queen Philippa. Honour called him away 
 from his bride, and we accompanied the 
 king to Flanders, to ratify the treaty be- 
 tween the duke's daughter, of that country, 
 and our famous Prince of Wales.t We gave 
 
 our 
 
 * Dugdale. f CoUins'sLifeof the Black Prince.
 
 46 EDGAR. 
 
 our signature as peers, but the marriage was 
 set aside. On the king's passing the Bra- 
 bant seas, he had intelligence of the ene- 
 my's fleet of four hundred ships lying in 
 wait to entangle him ; but he boldly attack- 
 ed with only half the number, and totally 
 destroyed the whole, securing thirty thou- 
 sand prisoners.* So nobly fought the Earl 
 of Warwick on this mighty occasion, that 
 he was honoured with the noble office of 
 Earl Marshal of England, and afterwards 
 with Lord High Admiral of Britain's navy. 
 I pass by his exploits in Crescy, and in the 
 siege of Calais ; in both he has been equally 
 valiant and nobly distinguished — he is ho- 
 noured by being the first knight of the most 
 noble revived order of the Gart'er j^a he has 
 the glory of being the dearest of subjects to 
 king and prince, and the delight of approv- 
 ing himself the most faithful of husbands 
 and tenderest of fathers. To his king he 
 is a treasure, and to his coronet an honour. 
 " But my partiality to my friend makes me 
 not insensible to the vast merit of others of 
 this great country. What a peerage is 
 
 ours ! 
 
 Speed.
 
 B o K rr. 47 
 
 ours ! what a noble commons ! Who of the 
 continent has not heard the names of the 
 Earls of Salisbury, Leicester, Derby, North- 
 ampton, Arundel, Devonshire, Suftblk, 
 Huntendon ;^^ and who is not familiarised 
 to the names of the heroes de Percy, Lyd- 
 dell, de la Ware, HamlakC;, Mowbray, 
 Nevill, Beaumont, Bercley, de Grey, Dor- 
 cy, de Clifford, Typoft, Monlyns, Fauken- 
 berge, Brian, Shouley, Ravensholm, Brewis, 
 Percival, x\udley, who with so many hundreds 
 like them, have carried the terror of Eng- 
 land's just resentment into the centre of 
 her enemy? No j I forget not these names, 
 to every one of which I see with surprise 
 so valiant a hero attached. Surprise, did 
 I say ? can a nation be surprised that she 
 should possess such grandeur in subjects, 
 when the monarch that sways her sceptre 
 is himself so rich in example, in eveiy 
 princely virtue, and every magnanimous 
 sentiment? Shall we wonder that this 
 great king should see in the heir to his 
 throne, a prince, a miracle in valour, mo- 
 desty, judgment, piety ? Shall we wonder 
 at the exultation, the enthusiasm, the ado- 
 ration
 
 4? EDGAR. 
 
 ration of the people, secure of lofty virtue 
 in their reigning prince, and more than pos- 
 sessed of every mortal perfection in the suc- 
 cessor ? Oh that kings would ever reflect 
 upon their unbounded influence, and the 
 strength of example from such high autho- 
 rity ! Vice is never so abashed as when dis- 
 countenanced by princes ; virtue never so 
 powerful as when she receives their caress !" 
 Hardly had the Earl uttered the last 
 word, when a great tumult was heard from 
 without. A man covered with dust, rushed 
 in, and a thousand voices repeated his news 
 — " The Prince ! the most valiant Prince 
 Edward is coming — the great Prince Ed- 
 ward y the hero of Crescy 1" — The messen- 
 ger exclaimed, " my Lord of Mercia, the 
 Prince will be at your Castle with the Earl 
 of Warwick to-morrow." " Brave friend," 
 cried the Ear], *< dost thou tell me truly ? can 
 it really be ? can such an honour. . ." — ** Yes, 
 my Lord," interrupted the man, ** and 
 further, my lord Stafford will attend him. 
 The Prince is in excellent health, heaven 
 bless him ; and commanded me to remember 
 him kindly to his noble cousin of Mercia." 
 ** Ha !" cried the Earl, ** is it indeed so ? 
 
 Happy
 
 B O O K II. 49 
 
 Happy, glorious day ! Edgar, my son — my 
 Elgiva, let us receive our Prince as if we 
 loved him. Let a proud steed richly capa- 
 risoned be presented to the honourable 
 messenger of this joyful news. Conduct 
 him, Edgar, to the armoury, and gird on, in 
 thy father's name, a bright and shining 
 sword — let the table groan under the sweet- 
 est of viands, and let all share in Mercia's 
 delight and gratitude, 
 
 Edgar's throbbing breast but half knew 
 its mingled feelings. Great names — proud 
 deeds — battles to come — entrance to the 
 world — meeting and first homage to his 
 prince, the most renowned of heroes and 
 in merit the most transcendant — Beauchamp 
 — Stafford — all by turns flitted before his 
 imagination. So grew the wondrous came- 
 ra obscura under the gigantic genius of Ba- 
 con.** Field, mount, temple rose, upon the 
 brittle mass in diminished profusion, antici- 
 pating reality, and setting space at defi- 
 ance. 
 
 When the messenger had refreshed him- 
 self, Edgar girt on the sword. With honest 
 pride, said the man, " my lord, mine is the 
 VOL. I. D province
 
 50 EDGAR. 
 
 province to give joy or misery. Good or 
 ill fortune sets me on the speed. So is it 
 with life, first pleasure, then sorrow ; but 
 I thank the star under which I was born, 
 that I am oftner the bearer of good than bad 
 news." " Are you not, Sir," enquired the 
 young noble, '* the trusty confident of Prince 
 Edward ?" — " Yes, truly, I am so honoured, 
 and my name is Thomas Prior.* 'Twas from 
 me the King first heard that his well be- 
 loved Queen Philippa had given him a fine 
 lusty well shaped son and heir. I had 
 waited at Woodstock for the news, and sped 
 me over hill and dale, and surely the gene- 
 rous monarch fully requited my zeal with 
 forty marks a year for life, out of the Ex- 
 chequer, As my Prince advanced in infan- 
 cy, I was appointed under his famed tutor 
 Dr. Walter Barleigh,t and many a cheering 
 smile have I caused between king and son. 
 'Twas I bore the charter of his titles — -at 
 three years Earl of Chester— -at seven, Duke 
 of Cornwall, the first duke, my lord, ever 
 made in England ; and who so worthy of the 
 honour ? I delivered the notice that he was 
 
 to 
 * Collins's Life of the Black Prince. f Ibid.
 
 S O O K 11. 51 
 
 to be keeper of England when the King was 
 absent in Flandens, and I had the honour 
 to signify the royal command that the Prince 
 should grace the court which was held at 
 Antwerp, at the time that a match was 
 proposed for him. And when he was crea- 
 ted Prince of Wales, and was invested with 
 his coronet, gold ring,* and siver rod, and 
 had a grant of lands to support his dignity, 
 I was employed to bear him the different 
 writs in his favour — I had too, the good 
 fortune to carry the sword with which he 
 was knighted when he was scarcely sixteen 
 years of age, just before he won the ever- 
 memorable battle of Crescy. Upon how 
 many noble services have I flown for so 
 good, so virtuous a master. Who can be 
 near his person and not love him — but I — 
 well and oft have I in his infant days, 
 clasped him to my breast, when Madam 
 Joant of Oxford, who bore the royal child 
 to the gardens for air, has passed — how 
 have I entreated for one look at the rosy 
 cheek — have you ever seen the Prince of 
 Wales, my lord?" " Never/' — rephed 
 D 2 Edgar, 
 
 * CoUins's Life, &c. f Ibid, 
 
 umvERsirr OF lUJttQi
 
 52 EDGAR. 
 
 Edgar, " honour has kept back that de- 
 light."—" Ah, Sir," returned the good Pri- 
 or, " if you had even held him a babe, as I 
 have, aye in truth, many a time, you would 
 hardly again recollect him. Such majesty 
 of port, with the sweetest courtesy — fair 
 of complexion yet that he was a child, 
 though his enemies call him Le Neoir be- 
 cause he is so terrible in war,* for who can 
 withstand his courage and skill ? Enemies, 
 said I ? has such a prince an enemy ? so 
 kind to the wounded, so courteous to the 
 prisoners. Oh, Sir, if he were mine own 
 son, methinks I should love him less, as 
 being mine — but 'tis enough ; I know my 
 prince esteems me his poor servant j and — 
 for myself — I know my heart, that 'tis his ; 
 what more signifies ?" — The honest cheek 
 of Prior was flushed — he feared he had been 
 too— not bold, in a generous and free coun- 
 try, where every tongue may speak the 
 mind's thought, — but too vain of his prince's 
 favour— -he paused and then rubbing his 
 brow, " It is natural, my lord, that I forget 
 myself on this subject — the favour of prin- 
 ces 
 * CoUins's Life, &c.
 
 B O O K 11. 53 
 
 ces is enough to make a dizzy head, and 
 I am not young ; there are things in life, 
 which when one looks back upon, will make 
 one prate in spite of prudence and modes- 
 ty." '' I doubt it not," hastily replied the 
 generous Edgar ; '*how often have I in these 
 my insignificant days, wearied my parents 
 perhaps, with past incidents of trifling mo- 
 ment ; but the subject you have touched, 
 my friend, is such as would loosen any 
 British tongue ; much more is it for you to 
 speak, who are both a favoured, and a 
 faithful subject." 
 
 The old man *bowed gratefully ; his eye 
 sparkled ; he caught the encouragement, 
 and again began the relation for which he 
 had apologised. Edgar smiled, yet he kind- 
 ly listened. The theme was affecting — the 
 character of the speaker to him inexperien- 
 ced in life, quite new. Hopeful the pros- 
 pect, when unpractised youth gazes with 
 astonishment, but with tenderness, upon 
 the various infirmities of human nature ! — 
 
 D 3
 
 ^4 EDGAR. 
 
 BOOK III. 
 THE PROEM. 
 
 Light ! wondrous creature, where wast 
 thou ere Omnipotence gave the word and 
 thou the start to eartJi, to be possessor of 
 her hemispheres by turns ? didst thou live 
 on the throne of heaven, and sprang from 
 thence to point the way to mortals, or art 
 thou but a poor emblem of some glorious 
 ess^ence that shall gild the seraph's wing, 
 when man lifting up the sepulture above 
 him shall raise his head from among the 
 dust, scatter as chaflp the astonished worms, 
 and, bending upward say, Lord I am ready, 
 and waited for thee ? Whatever thy origin, 
 vast is thy might, beneficent authority — 
 thoti cheerest all nature by thy presence- 
 dispersing the gloomy and obnoxious dream 
 that weighed the heaving breast ; infusing 
 joy in all creation, and exciting raptures of 
 gratitude for another day ; whilst thy severe 
 grandeur maketh the cheek of criminals to 
 grow pale in the thought that the eye of 
 an offended God will one day flash imme- 
 
 diatelv
 
 BOOK III. 55 
 
 diately upon them, as light now brings the 
 enquiring gaze of others than acccomplices 
 to make their trepidation — surely, thou art 
 allied to goodness, for the wicked never 
 love thee ; whilst the pure in heart are ever 
 cheered by, and hail thy return. Desert 
 us not, O light ; but according to the law 
 of a gracious providence, give thy presence 
 with noble prodigality, or a prudent econo- 
 my. Continue to the globe its proportion, 
 and let the whole habitable world spring 
 from rest, and adore the hand that gave 
 thee. 
 
 The eventful day that was to bring a 
 loved Prince amongst a brave and gene- 
 rous people in the wild skirts of this beau- 
 teous island, at length appeared to thou- 
 sands that had impatiently watched its calm 
 approach. " Why art thou so slow?" said 
 Edgar ? The Earl who was near, said smi- 
 ling, " knowest thou that the beam which 
 now passes our casement, was lodged seven 
 minutes since, in the bosom of the sun, 
 and thou callest it slow of motion ? man is 
 impatient — he would hurry nature that acts 
 by divine regulation and dares not alter her 
 D 4 course
 
 56 E D G A R. ^ 
 
 course — as she is made for him, she in pity 
 yields when she m^y ; for nature loves man- 
 kind and soothes his care/' 
 
 The vast concourse assembled at Restor- 
 nial gates. Some hasted to household pre- 
 paratives for the illustrious guest. The pale 
 dough hissed in the capacious hearth of the 
 hot oven, but struggles availed not, and it 
 was necessitated to submit to the tinge of 
 the fawn, with the brittle of the tender 
 sea-shell. The stores of sparkling water 
 were forced up from their cold purebeds 
 by the efforts of the generous steed of bur- 
 then" which paced his rounds, and shewed 
 in every motion, shining and lusty flanks, 
 with strength of limb, and grandeur of 
 proportion unknown in every country but 
 his. Kind driver, thou dost not urge him, 
 he does his best. Mark how he strives ; 
 first the hoof's point, and then the foot 
 presses the ground ; thou rememberest the 
 laws of thy land,^ which humanity dictated 
 as the council wrote — the crackling furze 
 and the dried beech resisted in vain in 
 the wide hearth of the state apartments, 
 
 against 
 * Dr. H(?nry's England.
 
 B O O K III. 57 
 
 against the attacks of the most powerful of 
 elements. He triumphed, and in his pride, 
 cast around the generous cheerfulness that 
 himself enjoyed. 
 
 To grace the table of the Prince of 
 Wales, domestic and wild of the feathered 
 tribes, lent their aid. The pointed arrow 
 fled from the bow and hid itself in the 
 breast of the scudding hind : the creature 
 gasped and fell. The timid hare flitted in 
 vain ; the snorting hound scented, pursued, 
 andguarded the unresisting prize for his mas- 
 ter. The little delicate wheatear, the phea- 
 sant of golden plumage ; the cunning par- 
 tridge, were secured, and the sweet corn-fed 
 pullet, with the savoury porket, were des- 
 tined to adorn the feast. The black and fine 
 lobster, the fine British oyster,* so famed to 
 Roman palate ; the swelling haddock, bear- 
 ing the sacred impression of the Redeemer's 
 touch ; the small mouthed sole, the pale 
 whiting, the bulky and delicious turbot, 
 were conveyed from the ocean, the fin still 
 playing, and the tail quivering with horror 
 to find itself in so fatal an element. 
 
 D 5 Mean* 
 
 * Lires of the Caesars.
 
 ^8 EDGAR. 
 
 Meantime^ a vast cavalcade moved slow- 
 ly forward to meet the prince, with the Eaii 
 of MeTcia and his son, at the head. They 
 sat in a car drawn by two proud coal black 
 Steeds, champing the bit, and disdaining 
 the gentle pace which the young hands 
 that grasped the reins forced them to ob- 
 serve. By their Side advanced a ^perb 
 milk white charger, tossing on his head 
 three plumes of the ostrich, round which 
 were the words Ich dien,^ the crest and 
 motto heretofore of the renowned King of 
 Bohemia, who fell in the yOung prince's 
 battle, and now the laurels of his own brow. 
 The creature lashed his silken back with 
 his sweeping train, and glancing his bril- 
 liant eye upon the leader, scarce deigned 
 to touch the soil. His bright long ringlets 
 were parted on either side of the broad 
 forehead by a rich Cornish diamond, and 
 on his expanded chest glittered the arms of 
 England, Ireland and Wales, quartered 
 with those of France. A hundred of the 
 principal landholders and tenantry, rode 
 
 two 
 * CoUins's Life, &c.
 
 BOOK III. 59 
 
 two and two on their steeds ; whilst the 
 chosen warhke band, with firm step, march- 
 ed silent in a close body ; and men, wo- 
 men, and children with the trumpet, cruth,*^ 
 and lyre, closed the ranks ; midst which 
 were seen, waving high in air, the banners 
 of Mercia, and the standard of St. George." 
 
 At length, within three miles of Laun- 
 ceston, a trumpeter dashed at full speed, 
 and gave notice that the Prince was only a 
 mile distant. The whole crowd gave three 
 shouts for joy. The Earl commanded them 
 to stop, and with his son alighted, as did 
 every horseman and hastened on. 
 
 And now a perfect silence reigned ; every 
 breast throbbed with expectation ; few had 
 ever seen, many never would again, pro- 
 bably, behold the loved person of the fu- 
 ture king. *« Hark i" cried Edgar, *« I 
 hear, I see them ; a few gentlemen at the 
 full gallop. Trumpets, to your blast ! Peo- 
 ple, your prince — 'tis he — the prince ad- 
 vances — his horse, scours down the hill — 
 several follow. Oh, my father, tell me, 
 how I should meet that dread prince ; I 
 so insignificant, he so great and glorious ?'' 
 D 6 " Meet
 
 60 EDGAR, 
 
 " Meet him," said the Earl, '' with the 
 modest confidence of a faithful subject ; be 
 ashamed of nought, child, but of vice — 
 but hark ! I hear his; voice — 'tis he !" The 
 Earl sprang forward, and bent the knee 
 wath arms extended. Edward rushed to 
 him, flung himself from his horse, and 
 raising him from the ground, embraced 
 him. " Good cousin, it befits not a prince 
 of royal blood, a hero, and a veteran, to 
 pay such compliment. ' How rejoiced I 
 am to see you once more I need not de- 
 clare ; my Lords of Warwick and Stafford, 
 here, who are waiting your salute, can 
 bear witness to my eagerness in this 
 journey." " Most generous of princes," 
 — replied Mercia, and he stopped, for his 
 soul refused expression. Edward pressed 
 his hand, and turned to the brave Sir John 
 de Pelham, whilst Warwick and the Earl 
 shed tears of joy. Respect had hitherto 
 held the assembly mute, but a sudden burst 
 of transport expressed feelings no longer 
 to be controlled. They crowded round — 
 some knelt and kissed- his foot, his cloak, 
 his armour, his hands. *' Long life to the 
 
 valiant
 
 BOOK III. 61 
 
 valiant Prince Edward and his great father. 
 England shall never want a defender of 
 her rights while they live ! May heaven 
 bless them both !" The noble Edward was 
 greatly affected by his people's regard. — • 
 With benevolent grace, he lifted his helme^ 
 and waving plumes, and smiHng, bowed to 
 the vast concourse that strove to gain one 
 look at his fine countenance and person, 
 now in the grandeur of manhood, and in 
 the strength of four and twenty years. 
 
 Edgar had beheld all ; yet he durst not 
 move from the spot. Diffidence, respect, 
 wonder — held him in awe. The prince 
 observed the noble fire of his eye, and the 
 deep blush on his cheek. " My lord of 
 Mercia, you have a son, is he of this cour- 
 teous assembly ?" *' He is, my prince — 
 Edgar, the Prince of Wales would see you 
 — Advance." The youth, with his helmet 
 in the left, and the right hand on his breast, 
 stepped forward with a respectful timidity. 
 He would have kneeled, but Edward pre-" 
 vented him. ** That is a young man," said 
 the Earl, *' who would fain, if he knew 
 how, be of service to his country. He 
 
 desires
 
 6^ EDGAR. 
 
 desires the honour to serve with three hun- 
 dred Cornish men^ under the renowned 
 Black Prince." '* Does he so ?" replied 
 Edward, " in the name of St. George then, 
 we will immediately give him®^ knighthood, 
 and receive him and his retinue with grati- 
 tude ; may he resemble in valour and pru- 
 dence his father." Hereupon, the Prince 
 ungirt his sword, and waved it over the 
 youth's head, who proudly received the 
 unexpected distinction. 
 
 The courser was now presented to Ed" 
 ward. His magnanimous soul delighted 
 not in pomp, but he saw the anxiety of the 
 multitude, and the ardour of Edgar who 
 pressed to hold the stirrup, and he in a mo- 
 ment sprang on his back, and the whole 
 cavalcade again fell into order and move- 
 ment. Edgar took the steed of the gallant 
 Beauchamp, who by the thoughtful com- 
 mand of the Prince, entered the chariot, 
 guided it, and entertained his friend with 
 past deeds. 
 
 The magnificent oak arrived at proud 
 maturity, spreads afar and wide his noble 
 branches, and stands in majesty confest 
 
 the
 
 BOOK III. 63 
 
 the monarch of the awful forest. By his 
 side, a stripHng elm raises its vigorous 
 stem, rich in promise, perfect in beauty, 
 but tender in age. Thousands of trees 
 surround them of generous growth ; but 
 these two only attract every gaze. 'Twas 
 thus Prince Edward and Edgar amidst the 
 throng, were alone noticed. Every eye 
 followed them ; the warlike Stafford, the 
 gallant Beauchamp, the prudent Mercia, 
 the valiant knights of the train were over- 
 looked. So grand is sovereign power tem- 
 pered by virtue — so lovely is artless youth 
 flushed with the ardour of generous fame. 
 
 Restormal gates strained the hinge to 
 speak their pride when the great guest 
 passed. The nobles hastened to follov/, as 
 the Earl on one side, and Edgar on the 
 other, conducted the Prince to the state 
 chamber, where he met and respectfully 
 saluted the Lady Elgiva. 
 
 The guests partook of refreshment, and 
 Edward, with gracious condescension, sig- 
 nified a desire to behold the castle parks 
 and estates ; and sallying forth, he took 
 Edgar's arm, amidst the shouts of thou- 
 sands
 
 64f EDGAR. 
 
 sands who had flocked for leagues to see 
 him. Edward spoke with affability to some, 
 and smiled upon ail, as every bosom beat 
 his praise. 
 
 The company passed the gates. Rustic 
 games and scenes caught every attention. 
 Under the castle walls, extended ranges of 
 sheds of various size, with nugtjerous de- 
 vices in honour of the noble visitor. Lest- 
 wythiel no longer boasted her inhabitants. 
 Launceston, Bodmin, and numerous other 
 opulent towns, hastened to Restormal at 
 the first breathing of the name of Edward. 
 
 And now the mind of this great prince 
 unbent itself to little matters. He passed 
 through lines of thousands of his future 
 subjects. He examined with complacency 
 the various articles for ornament and use, 
 and observed with delight the vast im- 
 provements in the manufactures of England. 
 " What people are these !" said he, smil- 
 ing to Beauchamp; '* the English have need 
 but of hints ; their comprehensive mind 
 embraces in a moment a plan, and their 
 liberality teaches them instantly to acknow- 
 ledge their past defects. Surely are they 
 
 exceeded
 
 BOOK III. ^5 
 
 exceeded in perseverance, in industry, by 
 no nation upon earth. But examine the 
 texture of this beautiful cloth ; look upon 
 yonder fine spun wool y^ what vivid colours 
 have those threads ; how exquisite the 
 workmanship of those rings,^^ and yon 
 armour with all the weapons near. Behold 
 too those small paintings,^^ and those on 
 glass, they have much merit. The very 
 embroidered arras, which hangs yon pa- 
 vilion, is worthy to be observed f"- but the 
 artificers here, who display their curious 
 works in our native metals, deserve high 
 praise. The king, my father, is truly well 
 repaid for his efforts to improve the trade 
 of his realms. I see — I see, England shall 
 one day rival in extensive commerce, 
 the most renowned states in the world. 
 May she never forget the blessing which 
 seems appointed to attend all her generous 
 ^ exertions, and may she never cease to be 
 grateful." 
 
 As Edward spoke, he observed a Palmer 
 near him, with his eye intently fixed. 
 " Friend," said the Prince, " didst thou 
 take France in thy way hither? Since 
 
 when,
 
 66 EDGAR. 
 
 when art thou in England ? '' " But 
 this morning, my lord,'* replied he, " the 
 vessel in which we sailed from Bourdeaux 
 was wrecked two leagues from Lestwy- 
 thieh" " And the crew?" exclaimed 
 Edward — " all safe ! " said the pilgrim — 
 ** 'twas a ship bound to Anglesea ; but 'tis 
 ordered otherwise," continued he, and 
 folding his arms, he stepped back among 
 the crowd, and slowly retreated. Edgar 
 looked after him, for his manner was not 
 common. Edward mused — *' methinks I 
 should like to hear what report has to say 
 in France." " May I, shall I, my lord ?" 
 timidly enquired Edgar. " I should thank 
 you, Sir," said the Prince of Wales ;— 
 Edgar respectfully bowed, and following, 
 overtook the Palmer. 
 
 ^* Reverend pilgrim, forgive my intru- 
 sion ; you have lately quitted France ; may 
 we hear if any thing extraordinary be 
 stirring there? Perhaps you know how 
 dear to the Prince of Wales is his city of 
 Bourdeaux." " I do, young stranger," 
 said the pilgrim, " the city and all Aquitain 
 holds firm to its Prince, but the enemy 
 
 ravages
 
 BOOK III. 67 
 
 ravages and distresses the country ; it needs 
 the royal presence." " And that presence 
 shall it have," replied Edgar. " Didst 
 thou know, good palmer, that the great 
 Duke of Aquitain and Prince of Wales 
 addressed thee just now ? " A colour rose 
 on the pilgrim's cheek,-^he paused, and 
 said, «< no. Sir, I knew not England's 
 heir, but I rejoice that I have seen him." 
 Again his eye fell, he bent to his attitude, 
 and would have pursued his path, but 
 Edgar laid his hand on his weeds, and 
 gently arrested him. " Nay, good palmer, 
 go not so soon ; let me intreat thee to 
 stay and honour my father's castle with 
 another guest ; do, gracious palmer. The 
 Prince will listen with complacency to your 
 speech, or if you like it not, none shall 
 intrude upon your meditations. 'Twill be 
 cold, very bleak to-night, autumn has 
 blasted the leaves, and the evenings are 
 long and dreary ; stay then, reverend Sir." 
 The old man again unclosed his eyelids, 
 surveyed the youth, and then looked upon 
 his damp robe. «< Be it so then, gracious 
 young man," said he, " I will return ere 
 
 the
 
 68 EDGAR. - 
 
 the dew drop 5 but permit me — at present 
 solitude befits me." Edgar respected the 
 words of age ; he bowed and retir.ed, mus- 
 ing as he went. He regained the Prince, 
 reported his mission, and was recompensed 
 with acknowledgments. 
 
 But now the scenes changed ; the com- 
 pany repaired to the circus, an immense 
 square doubly railed in for the diversions 
 of the country. The first was that of 
 wrestling. Six men entered the lists, and 
 paired off in different spots. They quickly 
 cast off the doublet and under vest. 
 " What a hardy race," said the Prince, 
 " with what strength of arm is an En- 
 glishman gifted, and what power !" But 
 when he observed the braced sinew, the 
 strong knuckle, the intrepid and dauntless 
 countenance, he smiled in admiration. 
 The victors were led off amidst shouts of 
 joy. Next followed tlie quoits. Iron tak- 
 ing the shape of the horse-shoe, was to be 
 flung from the vigorous hand, and to rest 
 upon a mark. Next was the foot race, 
 and then the racing of horses.^^ The 
 Earl had sent two fine chargers for prizes 
 
 to
 
 BOOK III. 69 
 
 to the first and second winner. Several 
 noble steeds with fine trappings ambled 
 round the area. The signal was given, 
 they bounded, they flew. Edgar was full of 
 anxiety. One of the competitors was a 
 youth he esteemed, and the son of a re- 
 spected landholder ; he was besides to ac- 
 company him to France. Edgar could 
 hardly forbear to call his name, and cheer 
 him with a voice he so much regarded ; 
 but Alfred had marked his vouns; lord's 
 earnest gaze, he was encouraged by hope ; 
 he caught the glance of the innocent maid- 
 en he loved, and he was fired by emu- 
 lation. Edgar knew his thought, he saw 
 him victor, and whirled high his kerchief 
 in the air ; he turned and smiled on the 
 damsel, her cheek glowed, she caught her 
 mother's arm, and brushed the ringlets over 
 her face to conceal her joy and pride. The 
 winners were dragged forward. Edgar 
 held the steeds, and whispered the Lord 
 Beauchamp to offer the prizes to the Prince. 
 From his revered hand they will be dou- 
 bly valued. Edward took the reins. " My 
 good friends, accept the Earl of Mercia's 
 
 bountv
 
 70 E D G A H. 
 
 bounty from my hand, from the hand of 
 your king's son, whose heart is rejoiced to 
 witness the happiness of his dear father's 
 people ; preserve this honest gaiety, and 
 let England be famed for happiness as she 
 is for security." The victors knelt to 
 receive the present. When the Prince 
 ceased, three full rounds of huzzas and 
 blessings rent the air. 
 
 Now the trumpet sounded. To the 
 river. The signal was blasted. Here was 
 the loved diversion of a nation of islanders. 
 A vast range of large boats ornamented 
 with the proud colours of England, drew 
 up in front of a line of merchant ships, in 
 the haven. The beautiful and swelling'* 
 Fowey sparkled with a brighter lustre, as if 
 to welcome her prince. The rowers enter 
 the boats— they are off — see the parted 
 wave — the dashing oar — the nervous arm— 
 the undaunted play of man with a world of 
 floods. Edward threw himself into a boat, 
 invited his nobles. Edgar sprang forward ; 
 grasped the oars, and plied with vigour. 
 Th« spectators gaze with transport. The 
 
 competitors
 
 BOOK III, 71 
 
 competitors ai'e returned, and Alfred is 
 again conqueror. 
 
 But the rowers slacken their speed. 
 They hail their Prince, and range them- 
 selves behind him. The hai'p, the sweet 
 harp, struck up her soft notes and made 
 the w^ave tremble. Voices rose in simple 
 harmony ; the trombe blew to the echo, 
 and the cruth sounded tke full bass. 
 
 I, 
 
 Hail, navy of our strand, 
 
 Bath'd in the emerald sea ! 
 
 Protect thy favoured land, 
 
 And Britons must be free. 
 Empires may fall, and monarchs want a name, 
 But England on her fleets shall rest the same. 
 
 II. 
 
 In vain the distant trump, 
 
 And vain the banner's play, 
 
 If thy proud parting keel 
 
 Ne'er cut the fluid way ; 
 Tyrants may struggling swell and gasp for fame, 
 But Britain hails her ships, and smiles the same. 
 
 III. 
 
 No eager vengeful arm 
 Shall crush our right and law ; 
 Safe in thy shrouds we rest, 
 And hold the world in awe ; 
 
 To
 
 72 EDGAR, 
 
 To succour wrongs, to bend the strong thy aim ; 
 Be ours the pride to triumph in thy fame. 
 
 IV. 
 Hail then, ye gen'rous fleets, 
 That ride the foaming sea. 
 Waft more than Tyrian stores, 
 Or guard your nation free. 
 Whilst friend and foe is forced your power to name, 
 England shall praise her God, and rest secure the 
 same. 
 
 The Prince admired the song, and the 
 harper again struck his instrument, He 
 played a wild British air, and then broke 
 into a lively melody, in which the whole 
 assembly joined. 
 
 I. 
 
 When Britain began, 
 
 Then said the chief man, 
 For fleets, let our nation rank first ; 
 
 Down down with the woods, 
 
 Let them rush to the floods. 
 And glory shall staunch a proud thirst, 
 
 II. 
 
 ISJo sooner the word, 
 
 Than with rapture all heard. 
 Huge planks from their kindred were hurl'd. 
 
 Cordage peep'd from the flax, 
 
 Ocean wink'd on the tax. 
 And Britons begirt the thick world. 
 
 With
 
 BOOK III. 7^ 
 
 III. 
 
 With what pride has each king, — 
 
 It has made our heart spring, 
 To behold his high lore in his fleet ; 
 
 Ere was Alfred the Great, 
 
 England barter'd in state. 
 In exchange India bent at her feet.* 
 
 IV. 
 
 Fleets, King Edgar had four, 
 
 Each twelve hundred and more, 
 And wintered them all in their station ; 
 
 One east and one west,f 
 
 North and south, as was best, 
 To honour and succour the nation. 
 
 V. 
 
 Strong on sea and on land, 
 
 He had kings at command, 
 Himself steer'd the helm in the Dee ; 
 
 Eight vassal kings row'<i, 
 
 "While to Britons he shew'd, J 
 That the sail and the sword 2eep us free. 
 
 The day was far spent, and the company 
 landed and returned to the castle. The 
 Earl advanced to meet his royalguest, who 
 spoke in gracious praise of the pleasure 
 
 VOL, I. E that 
 
 ♦ Henry. Rapin. 
 
 f General History of Battles and Sieges, 
 
 * ^pced.
 
 74' E D G A R* 
 
 that day had afforded him. Tlie rgpasi 
 was prepared, and Edgar led his father, 
 who conducted the Prince^ to a costly 
 spread table, raised two feet in the middle 
 of the hall ; at which were seats for him 
 and his two attendant nobles, whilst Edgar 
 waited in the room of his father ; who 
 blind as he was, took his station at the 
 back of Edward's chair ; — bttt the modest 
 Prince no sooner observed the arrangement, 
 than he rose from table, and taking his 
 hand, led him to the scat appointed for 
 himself, notwithstanding the Earl's entrea- 
 ties, and then took the right hand of his 
 host. The people saw the graceful act, 
 and thundered forth their admiration of it* 
 A venerable man of an hundred and ten 
 years, stood up : respect held every tongue ; 
 " I give you, my friends, a sentiment," 
 said he ; ** that prince is to be loved, who 
 protects his people ; to be blessed, when 
 he singles out and rewards the good ; but 
 he shall be adored, when he gives from 
 the throne an example, which every rank 
 of subjects may follow." 
 
 << Edward is that prince. Who so valiant 
 
 in
 
 BOOK nu 75 
 
 in his people's cause ? Who so virtuous in 
 private life ? Who more grateful to his 
 God ? Who greater on earth ? Who more 
 worthy of Heaven ? " 
 
 Edward would have silenced his people's 
 praise, but they rebelled ; in that point 
 only were they undutifuL They laughed, 
 they shouted, they extolled his name and 
 his exploits. The songs began, but still 
 to praise the royal hero they so dearly 
 loved^ 
 
 Edvv'ard looked round and caught sight 
 of the pilgrim at one of the tables ; he 
 beckoned to him — the man slowly approach- 
 ed. *' Hast thou aught of France to relate, 
 that may interest us, reverend Palmer ? '* 
 enquired the Prince. 
 
 ** Great Sir," answered he, *' passing 
 events attract me not ; yet would mine ear 
 be sometimes open ; a pilgrim is unfit to 
 converse with your Grace.'* ** Speak, I 
 conjure thee, friend," said Edward, " and 
 let us hear all that report can tell." 
 
 " Report now, please you, mighty Sir," 
 
 continued the Palmer with downcast eyes, 
 
 ^ turns all upon Charles, King of N?.- 
 
 X 2 van-e.
 
 70 E D G A lU 
 
 varre.^^ Although this prince be son-in- 
 law to John, King of France, yet doth he 
 provoke him by his deeds ; he has assas- 
 sinated his favourite, the Constable of 
 Spain, and boasted openly of the crime. 
 His father-in-law has seized his estates in 
 Normandy ; and Charles has raised the 
 standard of revolt. All this I doubt your 
 Grace knows ; but the matters that filled 
 France with wonder, happened when I 
 was in Rouen fifteen days since. 
 
 " King John met Charles in that city by 
 chance, and instantly secured his person, 
 and threw him into prison." ** In prison ?" 
 interrupted the Prince. " Yes, my lord," 
 «aid the pilgrim, ** and the nobles also of 
 his retinue ; and in excess of imprudence 
 and barbarity, ordered the execution of 
 four of these lords, and among them, the 
 Lord Harcourt j whilst he himself stood 
 by and enjoyed a sight so disgraceful to a 
 monarch.* This atrocious act has thrown 
 the whole country in a ferment. The no- 
 bles 
 
 * See this passage in L'Abbe M'lllot.^IIistolre dc fraricr, 
 p. 109.
 
 BOOK III. 77 
 
 bles are more than ever desirous to 
 own their lawful King Edward ; and the 
 brother of Navarre, and the Lord Jeifry 
 Harcourt, are on their way to offer the 
 allegiance of France to the great King 
 Edward of England." 
 
 The Palmer bent as he finished and with- 
 drew, for Edward was silent and revolved 
 in his mind the fate of nations. The peo- 
 ple shouted to the song of Britain's praise, 
 when the Earl and his son rose to conduct 
 his guests to their chambers. " One day 
 more, my Lord of Mercia," said the Prince, 
 " and then I must hasten to the court.'* 
 They then saluted and separated. 
 
 The Earl turned to his son. " Come 
 to my apartment ; my friend Beauchamp 
 will pass an hour in private with me ; I 
 have it at heart, Edgar, to give thee in 
 charge to him, ere thou quit the paternal 
 roof ; — he sees my anxiety, and he is eager 
 to anticipate my wish ; there is but one 
 little day, my son, and then we part. I trust 
 we shall again meet and for happiness, so 
 cheer thee well, for a warrior should carry 
 hope on his brow." Edgar made no reply, 
 E 3 but
 
 7B J. D G A R. 
 
 but led his parent to liis room. A. huge 
 faggot blazed on the hearth. Warwick 
 was already seated by its side ; the s.\veet 
 readiness of true friendship beamed in his 
 heartj smile ;-— he unclasped the bright 
 armour from his breast, and fiung around 
 him a warm and folding robe j then loosen- 
 ing the spurs, and drawing on his sandal, 
 'Vnow,'" said he, " my Atheling, my 
 friendj now am I entirely thine ; pour 
 forth in the heart of Thomas Beauchamp, 
 all tliy wishes and thy hopes ; he will hold 
 them sacred. I guess thou wouldst con- 
 verse of thy son ; thou wouldst entrust 
 the brave youth to my care. Speak, say 
 all thou wilt ; Mercia, hesitate not , confi- 
 dence is the soul of friendship." 
 
 The Earl v>^rung his friend's hand. '* Oh, 
 Beauchamp, thou art the same ; thy gene* 
 rous heart is unchanged ; yes, I would 
 speak to thee of my son ; I would place hnn 
 in thy protection ; 1 have wished to recount 
 to my son all that his parents have done for 
 him, not from boast, but only to shew his 
 obligations to reward us for our care. I 
 desired that Beauchamp might be present, 
 
 th^t
 
 BOOK III. 79 
 
 that he might witness all my anxiety. 
 Beauchamp, my ever faithful friend, par- 
 don my weakness ; I feel I must forget 
 myself on such a theme ; but thou art a 
 father too, as well as a friend — Edgar, seat 
 thyself.*' 
 
 The youth obeyed whilst his father wait- 
 ed a moment for recollection. 
 
 E 4
 
 80 EDGAR. 
 
 BOOK IV. 
 
 THE PROEM. 
 
 Order ! thou art the soul of matter. 
 Without thee, Heaven is no longer Heaven, 
 and the Universe is chaos. Thou art the 
 master-spring upon which the wheels of 
 creation move; on thy liead is balanced 
 the sun ; with one foot thou rockest the 
 planets in their cradle, with the other thou 
 dost press the back of Time, which is ever 
 moving to escape thee, yet never succeeds; 
 thine hands are spread in devotion over the 
 sacred hierarchy of the Eternal, whilst thou 
 lendest an ear to harmony such as angels 
 love. As thine influence extends through 
 the thick confluence of heavenly bodies, 
 so is it observed in the least of created 
 works. The grasshopper dares not sing but 
 at thy appointments ; the leaf hides itself till 
 thy season; water kisses the shore and 
 retires at thine hour, and birds frame the 
 nest according to thy direction. Man 
 too, the lord of created beings, loves and 
 has pride in his submission to thee. Full 
 
 well
 
 B O O K IV. 81 
 
 well he knows, that thou art the base of 
 every vhtue and every attainment. If he 
 would be great, if he would be good, if 
 he would be brilliant, if he would be ad- 
 mired, he must court thy favour, and bend 
 to thine authority. Order ! permit that I 
 salute thee. 
 
 The Earl of Mercia thus proceeded ta 
 address his friend and his son : 
 
 " It was my happiness to be instructed by 
 a father who was more than usually eager 
 and earnest in my welfare. It might be, 
 that he had more anxiety, because he had 
 no partner to share his cares, for my mother 
 died whilst I was yet an infant. Hence I 
 trace my higli notion of parental duty. As- 
 I advanced in age, I threw a glance over 
 the past ; every precept of early childhood 
 flashed across my breast, and rose as a 
 guardian angel in my mature age against 
 wickedness and immorality. My venerable 
 parent breathed his last sigh in these arms. 
 His last words were, < my son, I have given 
 you a noble inheritance — a virtuous educa- 
 tion. You are bound to transmit this to 
 your children, that posterity may bless our 
 E- 5 race.''
 
 82 EDGAR. 
 
 race.' He smiled as I clasped his hand, 
 and he expired. 
 
 " The activityof my life in the field andthe 
 council, left me not time to consider seriously 
 of marriage till thirty-three years had passed 
 over my head. I then obtained the hand 
 of the Lady Elgiva, the beauteous sister of 
 the most valiant Lord James Audley. I 
 said beauteous, but I sought her for her 
 jsweet feminine manners, and her graceful 
 virtues, which she is born to dignify. The 
 portion she brought me was smai), if I re- 
 gard but gold ', but if I look on her faith- 
 ful love, her sweet complacency, her en- 
 dearing smile, I became, when I led her 
 from the altar, the richest man in England. 
 Dreadful must be the lot of the- female 
 that is united but for -interest 5 wretched 
 the husband that is bought with gold ! 
 
 *' In the year my lady presented me with 
 a first born and only son. I gazed with 
 transport on thy features, my Edgar, and I 
 remember the smile that played on thy lip. 
 It seemed to assure me, that thou wast in- 
 nocent, and might be trained to love vir- 
 tue. My father's words, my own e:cperi- 
 
 (^nccjt
 
 B o o K n\ S3 
 
 ence, both urged me to exertion. Princi- 
 ples— can we but secure these, I said to 
 thy mother, who was equally anxious with 
 myself—if we can secure principles in early 
 childhood, all will be well ; at the worst, 
 the duty of parents will not have been neg- 
 lected. Every evening I feared lest some- 
 thing liad been left undone. This little 
 creature has some perception, I reflected. 
 It starts on a sudden noise, mourns when 
 it is in pain, or requires nourishment ; turns 
 round its head on the appearance of a bril- 
 liant light, and smiles when it is content. 
 Shall we treat this being as if it were not 
 belonging to the highest order in creation ? 
 Is not my son an involuted man? Strength, 
 energy, faculty, reason, are they not wrap- 
 ped up t^'ithin him, to be gradually un- 
 folded at the command of nature and in- 
 struction ? He is already sensible to habit j 
 his eyes close as the hour of rest draws 
 near, and he awakens at the break of day.. 
 The firsc principle of inflmcy then is Regu- 
 larity ; here will we begin* At the dawn,- 
 therefore, thy mother raised thee, and at the 
 setting of the sun, thou wast consigned ta 
 E d ' thy
 
 84} EDGAR. 
 
 thy simple bed. No mercenary hand plung- 
 ed thee into the pure sparkling fount. No 
 rude finger irritated thy skin by a harsh 
 friction. Thy mother, the ornament of a 
 court, 'twas she herself performed every 
 office of love ; and when I leaned over her, 
 saw the carnation of her glowing cheek in 
 the eagerness of attendance upon thee, I 
 felt my breast swell with gratitude and ten- 
 derness. O, how inexpressibly lovely is 
 woman in the midst of her affecting duties 
 —wife — mother— mistress — friend ! 
 
 *' At the end of six months, our care was 
 to distinguish the cry of our son — fretful - 
 ness from that of pain and want. We saw 
 that when we smiled, his countenance as- 
 sumed a brighter aspect than before. On 
 the appearance of passion, w^e therefore 
 dressed our featlu'es in sorrow. As the 
 storm ceased, we smiled ; the infant ob- 
 served us, and returned our caress. Here was 
 the principle of Forbearance begun. The 
 next point was Temperance^ in not permit- 
 ting his weak digestion to be overpowered 
 by the quantity or variety of food. These 
 three were our objects during infancy. 
 
 «In
 
 B O O K IV. S5 
 
 " In time, we delighted heard the first 
 gift of man declared in his speech. With 
 infinite pains, we taught thee, Edgar, va- 
 rious articulations in our dignified language, 
 and thy quickness inspired us with hope. 
 As reason expanded, I led thee into the 
 open field, and bending my words and ac- 
 tion to thine age, sported with thee and 
 thy favourite kid ; ran the pretended race 
 and suffered thee to win it ; plucked the 
 enamelled mead to give thee a taste for 
 ever charming and wondrous nature ; or I 
 seated thee tired and inquisitive, on my 
 knee, whilst 1 pointed up to the majestic 
 heavens, and whispered to thy attentive 
 ear, that a great God lived there, who loved 
 the good and punished those who were 
 naughty. *' Do you think that great God 
 will love me too ?" was thine innocent 
 question, ** for I will be good." I turned 
 away mine eye away from thee ; I spoke 
 not. Thy question was again repeated; 
 I answered, *' yes, my child ; for so has he 
 promised." " Then did he tell you so, 
 have you ever seen him ?" you inquired* 
 How I loved all thy questions, and how 
 
 have
 
 86 EDGAR. 
 
 have we encouraged them ! I told thee in 
 easy language, that the Almighty had 
 never been seen by me ; but that many 
 years since He had spoken to good men 
 who wrote down his words and commands, 
 and that he had afterwards sent his only 
 son, who was as great a God as himself, to 
 teach people their duty, and to save them 
 from ufiliappiness when they die. " And 
 what was the na.ne of that ffood son ?'' saidst 
 thou. *' His name, my Edgar,^' I rephed, 
 ** is Jesus Christ ; and we should never 
 pronounce so gieat a name without being 
 serious." *' But," continued you, '' did 
 that good son of God say what such a Httle 
 child as 1 am ought to do ?" <* Yes, he 
 said children should obey their parents, 
 who will shew them what is right and what 
 is wrong. Remember this, my Edgar, and 
 the great Jesus will love you, for he ccn 
 see all your little ways, although he is so 
 high in the heavens ; and he even knows 
 all your thoughts." As I finished, I saw 
 I had made a profound impression on thy 
 tender heart. I changed the subject, and 
 spoke no more upon religion for several 
 
 days.
 
 B O O K H'. 87 
 
 days. I did not wish to see my son an en- 
 thusinst, but I vrished a principle of religion 
 to be fixed so deep ; for him to have be- 
 times, so thorough a conviction of the ever- 
 lasting presence and omnipotence of the Al- 
 mighty, as migiit serv;^ to resist every shock 
 and effort of temptation, or time to subdue. 
 " Now is the period," said thy mother 
 and r, ** for the securing of piety, virtue, 
 and nature. 'Tv.iil be in vain to attempt 
 them by and bye, when other matters crowd 
 upon his mind He must then read, write, 
 understand the languages of other climes ; 
 he must be made acquainted with what- 
 ever is most noble of ancient and modern 
 knowledge ; he must be taught to despise 
 death when his country needs his arm ; he 
 must understand a little of the laws and 
 constitution of that superb country which 
 has a right to chrJienge him in her cause 
 to the last dregs of existence. And with 
 this multitude of studies, v;here should we 
 liud room for religion, if it be not already 
 fixed in the upper seat, the seat of honour ? 
 No, we will leave ornaments to chance ; our 
 child is not destitute of talent j we have 
 
 now
 
 SB EDGAR, 
 
 now only to make certain of two things ; a 
 love of God, which includes virtue ; and 
 a love of his works, which includes huma- 
 nity. 
 
 " In his early years, our son was not ro- 
 bust, yet we observed with delight, that 
 he loved every description of vigorous and 
 manly exercise, in which we permitted 
 Alfred, a youth of respectable parentage 
 and generous disposition, to be his com- 
 panion. Here was another matter of vast 
 importance. My domestics loved my son, 
 I knew, I feared lest they might flatter 
 him, and I allowed no intercourse exceed- 
 ing the bounds of gentleness and civility. 
 
 ** At six years of age, my son was igno- 
 rant of the single letters of our tongue. He 
 could not write a single character. All art 
 and science were entirely unknown to him, 
 even in their simplest fori;]. We smiled at 
 the concealed astonishment of our visitors. 
 The Lord Robert de Clifford, then a fine- 
 boy, attended his mother to our castle. 
 *< Madam,*^ said the lady to my Countess, 
 " your son is a promising child in person, 
 but I fear his instruction is retarded." Your 
 
 m.other,,
 
 BOOK IV. 89 
 
 mother, my Edgar, smiled, and with re- 
 spect, avowed her dependance upon me. 
 '* I,'' said the Lady de Clifford, " have 
 been anxious that my son be equally brave 
 and accomplished. I have spared no pains 
 or money in his tuition, from earliest in- 
 fancy, and ere my son had passed his fourth 
 year, he could read many words in his 
 book.'' I, who was present at the con- 
 versation, spoke not of my own ideas on 
 this great subject, but turned to examine 
 the youth, to w^ish a ble3sing upon him, 
 and to admire him ; for there was a gene- 
 rous bravery, and a fine ingenuousness in 
 his features and look, that strongly engag- 
 ed my feelings. The year after, when I 
 saw tliis stripling nobly fighting for his 
 country at the battle of Crescy, I wished 
 I had been his proud father. He then re- 
 cognised me— but when I was borne from 
 the field, I lost him, and we have never 
 since met. You say, Edgar, that he is of a 
 noble and generous nature ; such he ever 
 appeared, and from the manner of his 
 education, he must be a proud exception 
 
 to
 
 90 EDGAR. 
 
 to general principles. But I wander from 
 my point. At six years, I said that my 
 son was ignorant of letters and books ; but 
 let nie say a word to his advantage. He 
 had infantine habits and good ones. A 
 veneration for the Almighty. He closed 
 and opened not the eye». he broke not 
 bread, or drank of the pure stream, with- 
 out thanking the bountiful Giver in very 
 few, but impressive words. He was ac- 
 tive in every sport, and industrious in the 
 labours of the garden and stable, for he 
 called a very gentle and diminutive steed 
 his own : he was tender of every beast 
 and every reptile ; never kill an animal but 
 for safety or sustenance,! had conjured him, 
 and he remembered. I never allowed him 
 to be present at any amusement of cruelty, 
 such as the baiting of the bull, though I 
 remonstrated not with the peasants, who 
 are inclined to the. custom, perhaps through 
 its antiquity. No people in the world have 
 more seusibility of nature than the Eng- 
 lish. How much violence must they offer 
 i>liis nature, ere it can submit to a spec- 
 tacle of cruelty ! Tenderness is thoroughly 
 
 compatible
 
 BOOK IV. 91 
 
 compatible with heroism, for who shall sur- 
 pass a Briton in valour ? 
 
 *' Edgar had no motive to deceive ; his lip 
 was truth ; and I never hesitated on the 
 word of my son. He had a passion for 
 every beautiful object in nature, and had a 
 store of ideas on matters relating to the 
 universe in general. On the other hand, 
 as my son was mortal, so did he partake of 
 its infirmities. He gave early signs of a 
 disposition to be irritable, impetuous, rash, 
 and precipitate. A gloom followed these 
 slight indications, which, by skilful ma- 
 nagement, quickly dispersed ; for we stu- 
 died his particular character, and watched 
 every growing evil. Our efforts succeeded, 
 and reason is now to finish our work. 
 
 ** Just as I delivered my son to the daily 
 instruction of his mother, glory led me to 
 the field. In the mean time, Edgar made 
 a rapid progress in the language of both 
 our countries, as well as in writing cha- 
 racters. I returned, no longer useful to 
 my country than as [ might train for it a 
 young hero in my stead, I continued my 
 sou's instructor 5 and King Alfred's nobis 
 
 college,
 
 92 EDGAR. 
 
 college, under the worthiest of prelates, has, 
 I humbly hope, supplied all the deficiency 
 that might have been, and left me nothing 
 but success and delight to cheer my droop- 
 ing age.'' 
 
 The Earl paused ; Edgar embraced his 
 knees. " Oh ! my father, my good and ge- 
 nerous father ! all, all is owing to your kind 
 care. I know — I feel — but I cannot ex- 
 press my gratitude.'* ** I am sensible, my 
 dear child,'* replied the Earl, *< of thy 
 filial love. I know thy heart as it is now ; 
 hut 'tis thy entrance into life, to mixed 
 and turbulent societies ; opportunity of dis- 
 sipation — temptation; — these are what 
 cause my anxiety. The first years of 
 active life are the period of importance ; 
 and for these, as my mind glances at them, 
 I would have thee prepare all thy strength. 
 I have endeavoured, my Edgar, to give 
 thee some notion of my zeal for thy hap- 
 piness, which is only another word for 
 goodness ; for without virtue there can be 
 but misery. Fortune, power, riches, may 
 gather round a man, but all are vain and 
 worthless enjoyments, if conscience be not 
 
 friendly ;
 
 BOOK IV. 93 
 
 friendly ; and she is too faithful to whisper 
 peace when she has been insulted. Ever 
 consult this secret guardian, my son ; if 
 all be right there, thou mayest hold the 
 torture of man at defiance ; thou mayest 
 quaff the cup of sorrow, yet all shall be 
 well ; thine eye shall close, though thy 
 pillow he of stone. Oh, Heaven ! I ask 
 thee not to give him earthly good, but 
 that thou wouldst bless my son in virtue, 
 and that thou wouldst support him in the 
 hour of trial. Beauchamp, my friend, I 
 have opened my heart before thee — thou 
 seest my hopes, my wish, my fears ; look 
 upon this boy with the eye of a father, 
 Vrhen thy various duties may afford thee a 
 moment. Let him be restored to me a 
 pale and breathless corpse, I attend his 
 dust with a firm step to the vault of my 
 ancestors, lleturn him to me in health but 
 lost to goodness, and I sink with shame 
 and grief into the compassionate grave, 
 which will of itself open to cover a mi- 
 serable being that is crushed to death by 
 the profoundest disappointment of man." 
 A deep and long silence shewed how 
 
 greatly
 
 94 fe JD G^ A Ri 
 
 greatly all v/ere aiSected in the words at 
 the Earl of Mercia. Edgar grasped his 
 father*s hand ; he durst not — he could not 
 speak. " Retire, my son," said the Earl, 
 " it grows late — Heaven biess thee !" The 
 youth rose, bowed, and obeyed. 
 
 " Be comforted,'' said \¥arwick, when 
 he had retired, " be of good heart, my 
 friend, thy son is a noble youth ; I dare 
 answer for it, he will fiever degrade his 
 high birth, and thy expectations ; I too, 
 my Atheling, am a father, but I never had 
 doubts or such fears as thou hast. What 
 wouldst thou hope for that he is not pos- 
 sessed of? he is modest, courteous, unas- 
 suming, dutiful ; with an eye of fire when 
 matters of glory are talked of ; be assured, 
 the young lord shall never be imworthy 
 of thee.** " All his noble qualities," replied 
 Mercia, '* I understand — I feel them — but 
 my son is inexperience itself — ^nay, I know 
 not— there is, Beauchaaap, a peculiarity 
 in his education, which I have perhaps, 
 for my reproach ; yet, oh that this may not 
 be the cause of ruin and misery ! wretched, 
 most wretched, shonld I be-— I Imve taught
 
 B o K ir. 9d 
 
 niy son all that is beautiful in mankind ; I 
 have ever concealed their great defects. 
 In general terms only, have I hinted at 
 what his little daily experience proved, that 
 no man is perfect ; but the dreadful propen- 
 sities that can rouse a malignant nature — 
 great and shockinoj crimes, horrible pic- 
 tures of life, these I have ever studiously 
 withheld from his thoughts. No book did 
 I ever permit him to examine that pro- 
 moted virtue by means of vicious ends ; I 
 wished him the rather to read and dwell 
 upon the good, that he might see how to 
 copy virtue, than to present him with many 
 dreadful characters that he might hate vice. 
 The very examination of crimes is danger* 
 ©us — at least, I thought so. Of ingrati- 
 tude, pride, rancorous hate and envy, 
 treachery and falsehood, which in the 
 world he may meet with) he has scarcely 
 an idea. And this is now my source of 
 terror — how will he believe that a person 
 does a virtuous act from other than princi- 
 ple ? and yet such has been. I dread the 
 impression of these heart-rending discove- 
 ries ; but, perhaps, his natural benevolence 
 
 may
 
 96 EDGAR. 
 
 may hinder him from perceiving, or at least 
 
 from giving full credit to what strikes his 
 
 mind. Yet, how many good actions may 
 
 he not perform, how many sweet moments 
 
 may he not enjoy from his tender heart ! 
 
 Surely, surely, experience will but serve 
 
 to teach him prudence and discrimination 
 
 in bestowing his affection — thus have 1 
 
 argued ; for I have mixed with the young, 
 
 and have often with disgust seen a tender 
 
 figure with a cold contracted heart, drawn 
 
 up for defence, and prepared for treachery, 
 
 mystery, and artifice. O never, have I 
 
 a thousand times said, shall a son of mine 
 
 resemble those. Let me keep his heart 
 
 tender and unsuspecting ; the world will 
 
 regulate its overflowing affection by degrees. 
 
 Thus have I reasoned, my Beauchamp ; if 
 
 I have erred, the sin be mine ; mine is the 
 
 fault, and so may every transgression of 
 
 my son be accumulated round this hoary 
 
 head.'* 
 
 The Earl of Warwick soothed his friend 
 and strove to cheer his sinking spirits — he 
 conversed upon his own numerous family, 
 and related many circumstances of interest 
 
 to
 
 B O K IV. 97 
 
 to amuse him. Sweet are the efforts of a 
 friend to dispel the rising sigh, and lay the 
 torturing fear ; not half so grateful the 
 swelling tide that rushes over the sandy fin 
 of the dim eyed fish, and bears him upward 
 gasping to his native element. The Earl 
 of Mercia was calmed — night was far ad- 
 vanced — he embraced his friend, and both 
 separated for rest. 
 
 Edgar during two hours in vain attempt- 
 ed to forget himself in sleep. The num- 
 berless sensations of the day by turns filled 
 his mind j but chiefly he thought of hk 
 father's solemn address and his mother's 
 tender words. " May I never be ungrate- 
 ful to man, to my God," said he, with fer- 
 vour, " may I always remember the princi- 
 ples that have been (and with what care, 
 oh heaven !) instilled in me ! " At 
 length nature sealed his lids ; and as the 
 prudent archer relaxes the bow whilst in- 
 active, that it may preserve its energy, so 
 nature gradually unbent the agitated fibres 
 of Edgar's mind and lulled her favourite to 
 repose. 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 98 , EDGAR. 
 
 BOOK y. 
 THE ACTION. 
 
 What is the celestial being that presides 
 at the sweet converse of beneficent spirits : 
 Who is permitted in the presence of Eternal 
 Majesty ; the fragrance of whose breath 
 reacheth to the earth, and is imbibed by 
 the lip and robe of the spotless virgin ? 
 Her name is Chastity. She sometimes 
 gathers her folding vest over her pure 
 frame and involving herself in a shroud of 
 ether, visits the dwellings of those who 
 iovoke her presence. She touches with 
 her blushing finger the snowy forehead of 
 those she loves, and writes there a mystic 
 w^ord, which the guilty in design read, 
 comprehend, falter at, and tremble. The 
 matron, the maid, the youth, the parent 
 may be equally favoured by her, and she 
 will present to each a golden key which 
 locks out all the vices, and which they can- 
 not lose but by disregarding her precepts. 
 Her touch ennobles the pen, and shews it 
 
 how
 
 B O O K V. 99 
 
 how to bring the tear of innocence in the 
 modest eye, without fear of being reproved 
 for the sensibihty of nature. Sweet power, 
 stretch out thine arm over the works of 
 present ages, and let posterity examine, 
 smile and improve ! 
 
 The pale moon was hastening to make 
 way in the arch of heaven for the most 
 powerful of mute created wonders, when 
 Edgar threw off sleep and sprang upward. 
 He stopped to collect his flitting recollec- 
 tions of the previous day. Images lay in 
 a confused heap as he abruptly left them 
 when he closed the eye and shut out world- 
 ly association ; but presently, they return- 
 ed, and arranged themselves in order under 
 the past, the present, and the expectedo 
 ** God of all !" said he, afcer a lengthen- 
 ed pause, " thou knowest, and thou only, 
 the fate of all men ; but, whatever be my 
 portion in this life, teach me to have con- 
 fidence in thy protection, and I shall not 
 dare provoke thee to withdraw iV The 
 youth bent the knee to adore his Creator 
 for the sweet rest he had enjoyed, and hav- 
 ing plunged in the deep baths of Restor- 
 r 2 mal.
 
 100 EDGAR. 
 
 tnal, fed by the rapid Fowey, he turned 
 his step to the apartment of the royal Duke 
 of Aquitain. 
 
 He listened ; all was silent. " Great 
 Prince," murmured Edgar, ** may thy re- 
 pose be sweet; may the gentlest dreams 
 lull every care of royalty, and as thy peo- 
 ple passionately love thee, so mayest thou 
 endure to hear from the angels that sur- 
 round thy bed, that a good Prince is the 
 noblest gift of heaven/' Edgar then pro- 
 ceeded to his father's apartment, and with 
 respect saluted him. *^ Edgar," said the 
 Earl, *' the son of our monarch spares this 
 day to parental affection — to friendship — 
 to a faithful people who are anxious to be 
 acquainted with his person. Beauchamp 
 has just quitted me, and has^ received the 
 instructions of the morning from his Prince." 
 « So early !'' replied Edgar, ** I passed his 
 door, and thought he still slept." ** No, 
 my child, active minds arrange in the morn- 
 ing twilight, and execute at the dawn. To- 
 morrow we lose thee ; play well this day 
 the honoured subject. All the sports of 
 the chase must amuse our Prince, and give 
 
 occasion
 
 BOOK V. 101 
 
 occasion to thousands for exulting in a 
 sight of England's heir j see that nothing 
 be wanting to prove our joy in his condes- 
 cension. For thy departure to-morrow, be 
 also prepared ; Beauchamp attends his 
 Prince to Woodstock, and from thence 
 steals to his superb castle to bid farewell to 
 his lady and daughters ; he proposes to in- 
 troduce thee, and I desire that thou decHne 
 not the favour. From home endearments 
 he will conduct thee to the British fleet, 
 that will waft thee to glory in life or death 
 for thy country. Haste then to the several 
 duties of entertainment, and preparation 
 for departure. Much is expected from 
 thee— cause not a father's blush.'* 
 
 Edgar pressed the Earl's hand — embrac- 
 ed his mother, and flew to obey. Whilst 
 the morning repast was being arranged, he 
 sought the falconer.^^ '« My friend," said 
 he, " the Earl, my father, is desirous that 
 our Prince should have a noble sport this 
 day ; let us see, we pray, some extraor- 
 dinary feats, that our birds may not dis- 
 grace your skill and our province.'* ^* Sir," 
 answered the man, *' I am prepared ; and 
 F 3 hope
 
 102 EDGAR. 
 
 hope for nothing better than the honour of 
 setting my faithful birds; and I dare be 
 bold to assert, that my lord, the Prince, 
 shall never have been more gratified." Ed- 
 gar commended his ready care, and passed 
 to the hunstraan. " Release," said he, 
 " from the parks, the finest stag at noon, 
 and cast off the hounds shortly after ; the 
 Prince would join in the chase ere he leaves 
 us/' ** Yes, my lord," returned the hunts- 
 man, ** and proudly will we shew his gracQ" 
 the strength of the British scent." 
 
 Edgar returned to the castle ; the chapel 
 bells^^ rang for prayers, and Edward desired 
 to assist at them. He saluted the Countess 
 and led her to her seat, whilst the company 
 arranged themselves, all anxious to pour 
 forth praises for mercies granted, and sup- 
 plications for the future. Earnest were the 
 entreaties of the Prince for his father, his 
 country, his family ; of the Earl, for his son's 
 virtue ; of the LadyElgiva, for the life of this 
 son ; of Edgar, for his parents' health ; of 
 Beauchamp and the other guests, for theii 
 particular wants. Every one had a wish that 
 lay near his heart, and all looked up to One 
 
 Great
 
 BOOK V. 103 
 
 Great Giver for the grant of that which 
 should complete his happiness. Alas ! all . 
 were equally thoughtless, that the fulfil- 
 ment of one wish but opens room for 
 othei^ in the breast of man. 
 
 Then followed the repast, and the loud 
 clarion from tiie entrance, the trampling of 
 fiery horses, the shouts that blasted round, 
 bespoke the thronging concourse, and the 
 impatience of the thousands w^ho were as- 
 sembled to gaze on their Prince. He smiled^ 
 and benevolently pressing the Earl's hand, 
 regretted the necessity of his stay ; then 
 beckoned to Edgar, and sallied forth ; vault- 
 ed on the courser, and as the proud beast 
 reared aloft, as if to display the grace and 
 dextrous management of his royal master, 
 he fearlessly held the rein with one hand, 
 and elevated with a gracious smile, his 
 waving plumes high in air, with the other. 
 The delighted people again applauded, 
 whilst the Prince striking with the ticklin^^ 
 spur the animal's silken flanks, rose up in 
 the stirrup, and animated his people to the 
 sports of the day. The steed indignant, 
 hoped to weary the noble rider. " Avaunt, 
 F 4' proud
 
 104 EDGAR. 
 
 proud steed!" said Edward smiling, and 
 with one hand still grasping the helmet ; 
 " there, I give thee thy pace — fly !" The 
 generous animal tossed his mane at the de- 
 fiance. The trump sounds — he flits the ear ; 
 glares with the ball j the nostril expands ; 
 he champs the bit ; he hears the dogs' cry ; 
 they scent ; he paws the ground ; he is 
 off; gone ! The trumpets blow ; shouts 
 gather in the wind ; the whole mass flits 
 away. In the foremost rank is the ardent 
 Edgar. Never before had he bounded in 
 the chase ; his manly breast kindled with 
 interest in the exertion. Now the foaming 
 steeds scour the rocky hill, and scatter over 
 the extended plain. And now they are lost 
 in the deep and rugged glen. The dog, 
 pointing and breathless, listens to the horn. 
 He stops ; is revived, and again darts for- 
 ward. Edgar was separated from the royal 
 guest ; a rapid stream flowed before him 
 and intercepted his path ; he paused not, 
 but plunged the snorting animal in the 
 waves, rides their surface, and gains the 
 shore. The hounds are heard — a rustling 1 
 The stag is caught ; with agony he shakes 
 
 the
 
 BOOK V. 105 
 
 the branch ; gasping, trembling, Edgar 
 ahghted. ** Poor beast !" cried he, " how 
 I pity thee ; I will release thee ; save thy- 
 self yet a little longer." He tore the stub- 
 born branch ; again the animal leaped for- 
 ward with the bough. The dogs approached, 
 sprang on the victim, which fell, turned a 
 grateful look on Edgar, and expired. The 
 youth felt an emotion in the sight, and he 
 looked aside to conceal it. The huntsman 
 broke off the branching antlers and offered 
 them to the Prince, who commanded that 
 they should be Edgar's trophy, for he had 
 observed his rapid pursuit from a neighbour- 
 ing eminence. Tliis arranged, the venison 
 was borne homewards. Four leagues had the 
 party strayed from Restormal. The com- 
 pany measured back their steps with gentler 
 pace, and in one hour the castle w^s spied, 
 rearing its proud head midst its native 
 rocks and timber. 
 
 Another horn presently bespoke a differ- 
 ent diversion. The wary falconer w^as nigh, 
 with his birds perched on either iist, and 
 surrounded by a double brace of sleek and 
 obedient spaniels. The Prince alighted, 
 F 5 and
 
 106 EDGAR. 
 
 and gave the courser to his attendants, who 
 followed the weary pack and their booty, 
 immediately to the castle. 
 
 And now the sagacious pointer breed 
 silent lead on. They first glance the keen 
 eye athwart the low underwood. Death 
 is not more mute than they ; the fore-foot 
 raised ; the ear slipped aside ; the eye not 
 daring even to scan the master. The covey 
 springs. ** Now, bravely my birds !" said 
 the man, streaking the sleek falcons/'^^ off, 
 to your duty !*' In a moment he seizes 
 the tassels of the hoods which covered their 
 bright eyes, he tosses up the first— they 
 spread the wing — they soar aloft — they mix 
 with cloQds and are lost. 
 
 The sagacious dog again points, and a 
 ravenous kite springs high in the air. The 
 falconer hailed it ; " 'Tis ours !" — he <^an- 
 not escape for such is his particular lure. 
 The anxious assembly gazed abroad. As a 
 speck in the heavens, appeared the first 
 bird, winding and circling to make sure 
 the prey. Meantime, the covey thought 
 themselves no longer pursued ; midway of 
 earth and heaven, they winged a gentler 
 
 flight ^
 
 BOOK V. 107 
 
 flight ; but as the wrecked mariner buffet- 
 ing with horror the whelming waves, exults 
 at last in pressing the shore, and rushes 
 towards the treacherous sand that shall 
 swallow him ; so glided the two partridges 
 ascending. The subtle falcon abrupt, low- 
 ered the wing ; as a stone she dropped, 
 and grasped a bird in either pounce. Amaz- 
 ed, affrighted, it screamed ; she heeded not, 
 but faithful listed to the voice of her mas- 
 ter who saw the conquest, and raised the 
 voice to reclaim her. Nobly she fixed her 
 eye, and alighted on his arm. But a mo- 
 ment she staid ; another prey of the largest 
 kind, flitted by. She soared away, and 
 with a long struggle, laid at her master's 
 feet a crane of young and fine breed ;''° re- 
 leased her prize, and received with joy the 
 caresses of hei' instructor. In a few moments, 
 the other falcon bent downward her flight :. 
 her master spied and hailed her effort ; she 
 still struggled on the earth with the fierce 
 enemy. " Generous bird," said the fal- 
 coner, stroaking down her ruflied plumes,. 
 " thou art wounded ; heed it not^ thou 
 shalt be repaid :" whereupon he twisted the 
 J & neck
 
 108 EDGAR. 
 
 neck of the malignant prey, and divided 
 the carcase between his favourites. Then 
 each bird planted her talons round the 
 friendly cuff, and thus perched, the tink- 
 ling bell ceased ; she submitted to the 
 white hood, and was satisfied to wait her 
 master's pleasure. 
 
 Other feats did the birds : but the length- 
 ened shadows w^arned the Prince of the 
 decline of day. Once more he entered the 
 castle, enlivened by the sports of the chase, 
 and keen for the repast. The goblet of rich 
 English wines, equalling those of foreign 
 vintage,*^ passed briskly round. The Prince, 
 after the first drauglit, but touched the edge; 
 but the gay Beauchamp and the knights 
 quaffed freely. *' My Lord of Mercia, give 
 us music ; the harp ; let us have the British 
 harp, with the harmony of the cruth," 
 gaily exclaimed the Earl of Warwick. The 
 Earl called upon Alfred. " Come on, 
 young man ; do thy best : often hast thou 
 tuned the harp to Restormal walls. Try 
 now thy skill, before my lord the Prince, 
 and my noble guests." Alfred would have 
 sought for an excuse, but finding none, re- 
 solutely
 
 B o o K r. 109 
 
 solutely seized the instrument, resolved to 
 brave at once the rising dismay. He pre- 
 luded a moment, and then rose in full and 
 mellow voice to these words : 
 
 TO POESY. 
 
 To sing thy triumphs, charming maid, 
 Incline, bright Poesy, thine aid : 
 Let all confess, and melting see, 
 Love, grace, and harmony in thee. 
 When heavenly Genius took a consort queen, 
 And Nature smil'd a bride, 
 He left his brilliant star, 
 The virgin Phosphorus, 
 And urg'd the ray-bound car, 
 To hold his court with us. 
 Enthron'd on crystal beam'd the pair, 
 Whilst guardian spirits fed the temper'd air: 
 The youth of Nature's train. 
 Press' d round a smile to gain ; 
 Toss'd back the hair 
 To glean the word, 
 For Rumour there 
 Had hung -a prize for one to be preferred. 
 
 Th' enquiring monarch earnest gaz'd around, 
 Whilst pausing, all admire : 
 To meet his graceful bend. 
 Three beauteous virgins move, 
 Each Si&ter, Art, and Friend, 
 Entwin'd by polish'd Love. 
 
 *' Advance,
 
 I 
 
 EDGAR. 
 " Advance, sweet maids," great Genius cried, 
 " And strain th' angelic powers to charm my bride : 
 First, youthful Painting shine, 
 And raise the stroke divine ; 
 Then Music's spell 
 Shall throb the heart. 
 When Poesy's proud swell 
 May sweep through verse and ride the lofty part."^ 
 
 With modest blush the Sisters yielding, rise 
 To grace the honour'd day : 
 Warm'd with a generous fire, 
 The court in tumult stirr'd ; 
 The queen exalts the hand. 
 That silence may be heard. 
 The plodding maid now strains the loom, 
 And marks the sketch and spreads the growingbloom* 
 The phantom lies display'd ; 
 Now faintly strives in shade : 
 Behold ! a smile 
 Sweet promise gives ; 
 Yet, list awhile,-— — 
 The wond'ring canvas trembles, starts and lives t 
 
 Hail, lovely excellence ! be thine the prize ! 
 A thousand echoes ring : 
 But Time bent o'er unseen, 
 And scarr'd the tender thread i. 
 The vivid wonder glides away, 
 And flashes with the dead. 
 Music, in pity, tuned the string,. 
 To drown a sister's grief and soothe her king. 
 
 Soft
 
 BOOK V. Ill 
 
 Soft was the plaintive strain-, 
 And dear the gentle pain ; 
 She rushes on , 
 In bolder woe ; 
 Eyes glaring shone, 
 And swelling vessels dash the bubbling flow. 
 
 The maid observant, damp'd the ardent note. 
 And rous'd loose melody : 
 The rage tumultuous dies, 
 And Mirth in dimples steals ; 
 Still gayer strains arise. 
 And now hale laughter breaks his peals. 
 *.* Enough, sweet Art ; suspend the tyrant skill; 
 Cease, and restore the captive will." 
 The maid submissive stands 
 To wait the high conunands ; 
 Time grasps again 
 With baneful hold, 
 Impression fades, 
 And once-warm Sympathy sits freezing in her fold. 
 
 To mute dejection fell the generous glow ; 
 Gloom warp'd the monarch's brow. — 
 In haste bright Poesy 
 Preferr^^d her magic form : 
 And, wrapp'd in ecstacy, 
 Dispell'd the smother'd storm. 
 First, with the Satyr's ken, she archly plays, 
 And poignant, rankles Vice by monstrous praise. 
 
 Some
 
 11^ EDGAR. 
 
 Some in the court there were 
 Who spied a mirror's glare ; 
 And easy these. 
 But some confus'd, 
 For Conscience press'd 
 To take another glance, and blush'd as she perus*d. 
 
 Now in a length of solemn strains the verse extends? 
 Low o'er sepulchred worth she mournful bends. 
 Here 'twas a pair by virtue bound, 
 And there the tender friend ; 
 A little Hope earth weeps around, 
 And now proud Glory's end. 
 The swelling sigh the audience mournful heaves ; 
 The maid from Elegy relieves, 
 And Epigram to wield 
 She rubs his polish'd shield ; 
 Plays in his line, 
 And nerves his wing, 
 In attic brine 
 She steeps the thought, and points the smarting sting* 
 
 The vigorous Ode she leads along, 
 
 Now light with Fancy, now in grandeur strong : 
 
 The numbers rise to stir the soul, 
 
 To teach the lofty deed ; 
 
 The simple ballad winds its way, 
 
 And Patriots sing and bleed. 
 Next in keen likeness start gay Drama's laws, 
 The pompous buskin, grave, commands applause.*— 
 
 Rise
 
 B O O K V. 113 
 
 . Rise, Glory rise, to epic verse, 
 Magnanimous and terse, 
 Swell beauteous on, 
 And proudly grow ; 
 Bid Vice begone, 
 And charm to noblest action man below. 
 
 But Sacred Verse, rear thy great strength sublime, 
 Speak of a God supreme who laughs at Time ; 
 The God who rais'd his hand 
 And dress'd a world ; 
 Who scatter'd suns at one command, 
 And planets round the axis twirl'd. 
 Frail mortal, rest thy hope on Him, 
 He gave thee breath and strung thy limb ! 
 The high Redeemer's praise 
 Shall grateful rise ; 
 Angels shall plead, 
 And Man's dependance touch the skies. 
 
 At this dread name 
 
 The awed assembly bow ; 
 
 Time backward flits, 
 
 And trembling, crouches low« 
 The roofs with conquering Poesy redound, 
 And Nature kiss'd the Maid as Genius crown'd. 
 
 The sweet musician paused ; and as the 
 breath suspends on hearing the plaintive 
 and lovely nightingale, in the hope that 
 
 she
 
 114< E D G A R* 
 
 she may again swell her little throat and 
 tune another lay ; so every one of the 
 guests at Restormal Castle refrained from a 
 word or sign — but the strains had ceased. 
 The Prince of Wales first broke the si- 
 lence, with loud and noble commendation 
 — Alfred bowed low. Acclamations on all 
 sides burst forth — *^ my lords — your grace" 
 —The Prince held up his hand for silence. 
 " Your grace and my lords should know," 
 cried Alfred, ** that the music alone is 
 mine — the words are those of my lord 
 Edgar," — ** Generous young man !" ex- 
 claimed Edward. *♦ Most generous !" cried 
 the Earl of Mercia ; I knew not that my 
 son had tuned his imagination so high. 
 Edgar, where art thou ? Advance— and as 
 thou canst touch the manly cruth, exert 
 thy powers to amuse thy Prince, and to 
 relieve the generous Alfred." — ** Yes, I 
 intreat," said the Prince. *' We intreat 
 our young chief," burst from every side. 
 
 The youth, appalled at the first word of 
 Alfred, had sheltered himself behind the 
 Earl's chair. " Oh, my father, command 
 me not, for I dare not disobey," whispered 
 
 he
 
 B O O K V. 115 
 
 he in terror. " Yes, I command thee," 
 answered the Earl aloud. Edgar bent, 
 and slowly suffered the pleased Alfred to 
 lead him towards the gallery. A film 
 seemed to thicken over his lids — the knee 
 tottered — a trembling crept over his hand, 
 and his polished forehead was covered with 
 melting drops of fear. Alfred respectfully 
 put the cruth near him, and softly mutter- 
 ed, ** oh, my lord, be mindful of your ho- 
 nour — a thousand eyes are upon you.'* — 
 ** I know it, Alfred, but too well,'* return- 
 ed the youth ; " but what can I strike — 
 what subject — alas !" — " I have heard you, 
 my lord," said Alfred hastily, ** recite, in 
 wild uneven measure, the Battle of Crescy 
 — 'twill be nov/ a happy theme. Come, 
 hasten sir ; observe my lady the Countess, 
 how anxious, how eager is her look — see 
 your mother expire with shame, or rouse 
 yourself from this unmanly modesty." — 
 Whilst he spoke, he feigned to be arrang- 
 ing the cruth — he now stepped backward, 
 his generous heart beating anxiety, though 
 he appeared confident of the powers, and 
 easy in the skill of his young lord. 
 
 His
 
 Il6 EDGAR. 
 
 His words saved Edgar — who ventured 
 to raise his eye to his mother — he saw her 
 pale and motionless — th^ blood dashed up- 
 ward from his heart in the instant ; he 
 snatched the instrument, drew the first 
 tone, spoke the first lines, and then, borne 
 away by the subject, rose by degrees into 
 grandeur and energy. 
 
 THE BATTLE OF CRESCY.* 
 
 Glory ! lift thy voice supreme, 
 Blaze round my lip, and animate my theme ; 
 Rush through the numbers, teach the heart to glow, 
 Storm with heroic rage — or wildly flow. 
 
 Great England's monarch watch'd th' eventful day, 
 
 Embrac'd his kingdom's pride, and bowed to pray ; 
 
 Stalked through the camp adored by all. 
 
 And rous'd to martial fury, at the call ;^' 
 
 Perceiv'd the disposition made ; 
 
 To east, the forest Crescy's shade ; 
 
 To right, the moat and dashing Maye ; 
 
 Behind, huge walls of timber fenced the way. — 
 
 Now, my brave friends ! all else deferr'd, 
 
 Be Victory or Death, the word ! 
 
 Retreat is vain — encompassed round. 
 
 We tread a conqu ring or a martyr'd ground 
 
 Three great divisions — mark my will : 
 
 The first command the Prince shall fill ; 
 
 » Collins's Life of the Black Princes
 
 } 
 
 BOOK V. 117 
 
 Beauchamp, attend to aid the youthful chief; 
 
 Chandos be prompt to hold relief; 
 
 Fitz- Allan, Bohun, lead the second on ; 
 
 Retir'd I wait, and give the glory to my son. 
 
 High rang the shouts at this array : 
 
 *' Our Prince shall wear and win the day ; 
 
 Our hearts are his — let Edward point the way ! 
 
 Now the ten thousand quick enjoy repast, 
 Sheath the long bow, and wait the signal blast ; 
 Impatient on the supple grass they rest. 
 Then upward start, to ease the panting breast. 
 
 Noon and three hours are fled. They come ! 
 The foe cloud-wrapp'd advance to meet the doom; 
 Now unfolds the motley train, 
 Dukes, lords, and princes skirt the plain ; 
 De Valois, and Majorca's noble king, 
 Bohemia's too, with warriors of the string ; 
 Prince Charles,* and every noble of the realm, 
 Joined the huge force, and drove the crazy helm ; 
 Six times ten thousand strong they prov'd, 
 Undisciplin'd, and rash they mov'd. 
 
 De Valois mark'd the ready English care,— 
 Pale wax'd the cheek — said he, " do we beware , 
 We halt this day — 'twere hazard yet to fight. 
 Let each collect his strength, and rest through night." 
 *' No, no !" the numbers eager cry : 
 ♦' Now is the hour in arms to try !" t 
 
 The chiefs agree — and quick divide 
 The wond'rous throng, and prance beside. 
 * Collins's Life of the Black Prince,
 
 118 E D G A 11. 
 
 And no^, behold the darken'd sun 
 
 Laments the fate of man ; 
 Floods thick descend, and streaming run, 
 As winds convulsive fan. 
 'Tis past — the trumpet sounds tQ fight — ' 
 Full on the foe displeased glare beams of light * 
 
 Twenty thousand men advance ; 
 The Genoese let fly the bow ; 
 The wearied arm, and moisture check the blow : 
 Others betake them to the lance. 
 They pant, they groan, to reach the British pride, 
 The Prince perceived, and modestly defied ; 
 Crowds rush on crowds, and hither bend the way, 
 *^' Bear down the English Prince !" they cry, and 
 briskly play. 
 
 Quick flew the British arrow on its wing, 
 Plung'd in the bloody bed, and bit the vital spring ! 
 Heaps piled on heaps — the hostile fall — 
 M\ite rolls the tongue, and deaf the ear to all. 
 
 Beauchamp saw the furious aim, 
 Spurred near his Prince, and nearer came. 
 Amaz'd he stood, to see the royal child,^' 
 Koble as virtuous and mild, 
 So valiant in his tender years, 
 So prudent in command, so strange to fears ; 
 " Ah 1" he cried, *' what legions hither swarm, 
 Heav'n shield my Prince, my darling Prince, from 
 harm." 
 
 * Collins's Life of the Black Prince.
 
 B O O K V. 119 
 
 On the Britisli chieftain dash'd — 
 
 Anger in his visage flash'd — 
 
 High he swung the battle-axe, 
 
 And mow'd th' assaulting arm as flax. 
 
 Yet still mth lab'ring thought survey'd 
 
 The Prince, whose sword such havoc made. 
 
 " Hark ye, sir knight, speed to the King, 
 
 And crave his Grace t* advance, and succour bring ; 
 
 The Prince, my lord, o'erwhelmed by foes, 
 
 Else falls — at him whole thousands aim the blows." 
 
 Swift to a hill he flies, 
 The monarch hastes to hear ; 
 " My liege, my news Lord Warwick's fear, 
 
 The Prince needs fresh supplies." 
 
 *' What of the Prince ?" the King demands, 
 
 *' Hurt, fall'n, or slain?" — 
 '* Neither, your highness — with the faithful band* 
 
 He lives, to animate the plain." 
 
 " Away then, sir, to those that send, 
 
 1 will not aid my son ; 
 The glory of the day to him I lend. 
 
 Let knighthood and his spurs be won/* 
 
 The messenger retum'd, and gave the word ; 
 Big swell the shouts — the Prince smil'd, blush'd, and 
 heard. 
 
 Kow,
 
 120 EDGAR. 
 
 Now, archers, charge th' enemy's flank. 
 
 Close, my brave, and press the rank ! 
 
 Play away, 
 
 Our's the day ; 
 
 Arundel here, 
 
 Northampton there ;* 
 
 My Prince advances, f 
 
 Wield the lances ; 
 
 They fly— they fly— 
 
 Ah ! brave Moravia and Bohemia die.J 
 
 Seize the standard, 
 
 Grasp it forward ; 
 
 Is De Valois slain ? — 
 
 No, but bleeds on his third horse again ;§ 
 
 He's borne away— 
 
 Old England conquers !— Hail ! most glorious day ! 
 
 The tender monarch rushes on — 
 
 " Where is the noble chief, my darling son ?" 
 
 The modest Edward bent the knee. 
 
 *' Rise, my best child, that I embrace thee ; 
 
 Thy great renown shall to each babe be taught. 
 
 Well thou deserv'st that crown for which we've fought." 
 
 The valiant Prince made no reply. 
 
 Tears fell from ev'ry generous eye. 
 
 Low to the ground he bow'd, 
 
 Whilst his lov'd virtues wring th' adoring crowd. 
 
 The noble corse of great Bohemia's king, 
 four knights respectful bring ; 
 
 " Give 
 
 ♦ CoUins's Life of the Black Prince, f History of Bohemia. 
 I Knighton's History of Edward III. § Froissart.
 
 BOOK V. 1^21 
 
 " Give to the Prince his arms and shield, 
 
 Ich Dien his motto, in the state or field. 
 
 Now grant we honours to the royal dead," 
 
 Cried England's king, •• and then to pray'r we lead."' 
 
 ** What mercies cur's ! When forty thousand foes lie 
 
 slain,* 
 Willi all their highest nobles scatter'd on the plain ; 
 A few brave soldiers of our list are gone ; 
 Of higher rank we mourn three knights alone. 
 Bend then to Him, from whom ail victVy springs, 
 The Great Omnipotent ! and King of Kings !" 
 
 The pious nation grateful haste t' obey.*^ 
 And prostrate fall, and bless the night away. 
 
 He ceased. The whole concourse wept 
 with mingled transport and tenderness. In 
 vaiH, in vain had the magnanimous Prince 
 attempted to check the beginning of the 
 song ; he hid his noble countenance in his 
 hands ; he essayed to steal gently from his 
 elevated seat, but his people flung them- 
 selves on the ground, and with uplifted 
 hands, silently implored his stay ; he re- 
 sumed the seat, and with downcast look, 
 painfully sufiered the praise which every 
 ear seized with rapture. *« 'Tis well, ray 
 
 VOL. I. G son/* 
 
 » Collios's Life of tbc Black Prince.
 
 1£^ EDGAR. 
 
 son," cried the Earl of Mercia ; " sweet 
 have thy words sounded, for they spoke to 
 the glory of a Prince that Enghvnd loves I*' 
 — " Of a Prince that England loves 1" 
 burst forth from the ardent multitude. 
 
 Edward rose ; a grateful tear moistened 
 his generous eye ; his voice faltered ; — 
 " Great people, cease, cease ! — and you, 
 my lord, cease, I entreat, this excess of 
 praises, which so far outstrip my merits. 
 If England has fought and conquered, let 
 hei- thank the wise and noble monarch of 
 these happy realms, my beloved father ; 
 and see in him the instrument of an eternal 
 will which gives the command, and king- 
 doms fall or triumph : to Him tlien, as the 
 Lord Edgar hath so well observed, in his 
 conclusion, to Him be the praise. Great 
 Lord of Heaven !" exclaimed the Prince, 
 and bent on his knee, " preserve this ge- 
 nerous people ; bless the King, my father, 
 and grant him prosperity ; subdue in us all 
 the spirit of pride and vain-glory, and teach 
 us, who are by thy direction, appointed to 
 govern others, that we ourselves are but 
 men that must one day give up life, and 
 
 ascend
 
 BOOK V. 12o 
 
 ascend to the foot of thy throne to declare 
 all our past deeds, and to be requited ac- 
 cordinoc to our deserts." 
 
 Edward rose, impressed with the deep- 
 est veneration. The people held a pro- 
 found silence. He advanced to the Earl, 
 and embraced him. " Farewell, my ge- 
 nerous cousin ! may heaven give you 
 life and happiness in your son. Good 
 friends, fare ye well ; continue to love 
 your king^ as he tenderly loves you. Ac- 
 cept my thanks for your loyal affection, and 
 rely on me for a prince that will never dis^ 
 honour his country. Dear lady," and he 
 respectfully raised the Countess's hand to 
 !iis lip, " receive my acknowledgments for 
 this noble reception ; to-morrow, before the 
 dawn," continued he aloud, " we leave 
 the hospitable Castle of Restormal. My 
 lords, I trust to your vigilance." So say- 
 ing, the Prince bowed several distinct times, 
 and then moved with iiis attendants to his 
 apartment. 
 
 In a few moments, a vast bustle prevailed 
 
 in the hall. Many first reflected, that in a 
 
 few hours they were to leave friends and 
 
 G ^ relatives;
 
 1S4 EDGAR. 
 
 relatives ; and sadness crept over the brovV. 
 Others recollected, that little matters re- 
 mained to be settled, and they hastened to 
 prepare for a long separation. The hall 
 was quickly thinned. 
 
 The Earl called for the armour of his 
 youthful days. The shield-bearer presented 
 it. Mercia passed his hand carefully over 
 the silver- studded breast-plate, and felt its 
 high polish ; he took the helmet, and by 
 the touch discovered that the royal crest 
 was still perfect ; then he unsheathed the 
 bright sword of his ancestors, drew his 
 finger over the keen edge, and tied in ano- 
 ther knot a thong of leather, which encir- 
 cled the diamond hilt. *' Edgar," said he; 
 " My father," answered the youth ; «* Ed- 
 gar, take these arms, and use them to 
 defend your country, and to pratect the 
 injured. The strip of leather on the sword, 
 preserve ; 'tis a relique of honour. King 
 Richard the Lion gave this with the sword, 
 to an ancestor of our's at Jerusalem, to 
 encourage him and others of his brave 
 ,army to exertion. 'Twas bound on the left 
 
 knee,
 
 BOOK V. 125 
 
 knee, and is the origin of the noblest order 
 of knighthood in the world.''" Now hasten, 
 child, to prepare for thy departure, and 
 heaven bless thee ! One embrace, Edgar, 
 and I leave thee to thy mother -, spare her 
 feelings, and be manful in the moment of 
 trial." So speaking, the Earl strained his 
 son to his breast, and resolutely putting his 
 arm in that of Beauchamp, who stood near, 
 desired him to lead on to his chamber. 
 Edgar, pakand motionless, saw him depart; 
 his mother rushed to him. " What, my 
 son 1 is this the moment ? is it really come ?" 
 She grasped his hand, and urged him 
 to the adjoining chapel. The tapers burned 
 on the altar. *' Lights V' said she wildly, 
 ** ye burn dim, ye respect a mother's 
 grief She fell on the marble step ; Ed- 
 gar threw himself beside her. " Oh, my 
 mother, speak 1 speak to me !" — *' Edgar," 
 said she, with quickness, " my son, when 
 thou art far away from thy paternal man- 
 sion ; when in the fury of battle, in the 
 storm of elements ; when thy loved face is 
 bathed in the tear of sorrow, and illness 
 spreads through thy veins, then, my child, 
 G 3 even
 
 1^6 EDGAR. 
 
 even then, a smile shall pass thy lip, for 
 tho!i shalt figure to thyself, this mother, in 
 this posture, before this altar, begging hea- 
 ven to comfort thee. Edgar, if we should 
 meet no more, and this may be, child — 
 Sharp pointed arrow, turn away from my 
 child, and drink not his innocent blood ! — 
 But we may go before thee, love. Oh, my 
 son, if thou rememberest any little harsh- 
 ness of thy mother, — she was anxious for 
 thee, my life j for thy welfare, — pardon 
 her." 
 
 Edgar supported his parent, his breast 
 suffocated with anguish. The Countess 
 lieard his convulsive sob, and suddenly 
 rising, cried, " Oh, how weak is my heart! 
 Edgar, leave me ; I shall presently be calm. 
 Son of my bosom, bless him. Lord I" She 
 imprinted a kiss on his cold forehead, pres- 
 sed him in her maternal arms, and then 
 motioned with her hand for him to depart. 
 He rushed towards the entrance, beckoned 
 to the female attendants to pass to the chapel, 
 seized a taper, and hurried to his room ; — 
 distracted, he entered it, and fell at once on 
 hjs face. During several moments, he re- 
 mained
 
 BOOK V. 127 
 
 mained senseless, but at length he reco- 
 vered, and perceived tlie light on the ground, 
 took it up, and replaced it on a table. The 
 generous Beauchamp now sought him, and 
 endeavoured to divert his agony with great 
 deeds of fame. Edgar listened, or appeared 
 to do so, and when the Earl of Warwick left 
 him, flung himself unrobed on the couch, 
 and, with a thousand mingled emotions, 
 waited the dawn. 
 
 G 4
 
 1^8 EDGAR. 
 
 BOOK VI. 
 
 THE ACTION. 
 
 I FEEL thee, tenderest throb of the human 
 breast ; I feel thee, soft Sympathy, gently 
 putting aside every other concern, that 
 ^thou mayest fondle with pity and drown 
 the cares of a heavier heart than thine. Oh 
 soft gentleness, let me sing to thee, whilst 
 thou shalt echo back each caressing word. 
 
 When man transgress'd and tore the blushing tree, 
 Archangels wept, and blew their Lord's decree : 
 Be grief thy lot, they sang, in sorrow toil, 
 The drops that lave thy crime may moist the soil. 
 
 The tear that trembled on an angel's face. 
 Was caught by Mercy, and preserv'd by Grace* 
 Thence sprang the balm to every mortal's woes, ' 
 It sought the breast of man, and hidden blows. 
 
 What tender name shall mark this heav'n born friendj 
 Which mourns our grief and in our joys can blend, 
 Charms whilst v/e live, consoles us when we die ? 
 Soft breathe, my soul, and list — 'tis Sympathy 1 
 
 The pale moon still leaned over the nod- 
 ding forest and trembled among the flutter- 
 ing leaves, when the Duke of Aquitain 
 
 broke
 
 BOOK VI. 129 
 
 broke from sleep, threw on his vest and 
 black armour, and summoned his at- 
 tendants to the castle entrance. In a mo- 
 ment, his esquire led forth the charger, he 
 sprang upon him, whilst he dropped a hand- 
 ful of gold in the chaplain's robe to be dis- 
 tributed among the needy. The Lord 
 Stafford advanced and craved excuse for 
 Beauchamp who would instantly follow. 
 Whereupon the Prince bowed to the peo- 
 ple already assembled, pressed the spur, 
 and dashed onward. 
 
 The blasts of the trumpet fell on the 
 listening ear of Edgar and chilled his heart. 
 They grew^ stronger — honour suddenly 
 flushed his cheek — his trembling finger in 
 vain essayed to clasp the coat of mail with 
 which, for the first time, his perfect limbs 
 were encircled. Beauchamp, the generous 
 Beauchamp, entered. " What! young 
 man," said he, "are you not yet below 
 with your Prince ? Come, Edgar, I will 
 aid thee, the son of Mercia should not be 
 among the tardy." "Oh, my lord," cried 
 the youth, " would my father honour me 
 by one word -^ Oh, Sir, and my mother 
 G 5 too."
 
 130 EDGAR. 
 
 too.'* " I have just left thy father,*' said 
 
 Warwick, <« he tells me he has bidden thee 
 
 farewell — hark ! another blast—haste ! the 
 
 brave are ever foremost when the trumpet 
 
 calls. I hear the Prince — 'tis his voice— 
 
 my lord, I come. Now, Edgar, quick — 
 
 see, I will carry thy lielmet — now fly we 
 
 the steps — Alfred waits with thy horse — 
 
 then he joins the bannerets and the Cornish 
 
 troop. — Ah ! the Prince is gone ! mount — 
 
 haste, Edgar, not a moment is ours, or we 
 
 are disgraced !" 
 
 As the skilful physician creates in his 
 remedy a temporary evil which magnifies 
 itself to the patient's eye, thus the tender- 
 ness of Beauchamp threw on Edgar's mind 
 ideas of an offended prince, and a dis- 
 honoured name. Astonished, confounded, 
 bewildered, by sorrow^ wonder, terror, and 
 glory ; hardly trusting his senses, the youth 
 scoured up the hills by his friend, who still 
 urged him to more vehemence by his 
 words. At times, Edgar's spirit began to 
 *jabside ; the Earl of Warwick perceived, 
 and s.poke of Crescy, of Windsor, of the 
 great King Edward. ** Thou wilt love our 
 
 monarch,.
 
 BOOK VI. 131 
 
 monarch, Edgar," said he, " and I foresee 
 that thou wilt be distinguished by him ; he 
 loves a young and martial spirit. To fifty 
 young gentlemen did he give knighthood 
 on the morning of Crescy. Thou hast 
 already received the honour from the son, 
 and wilt, I doubt not, from the sire, before 
 thou shalt have made one captive or re- 
 ceived one ransom." The youth smiled but 
 spoke not ; and now the Prince w^as in sight, 
 and Beauchamp pointing him out to his 
 cliarge was satisfied to see the ardour of his 
 countenance, as the first sun-beam flashed 
 upon it. 
 
 The Prince hurried on to Launceston 
 castle ; there he perceived Edgar and kindly 
 addressed him. The young chieftain was 
 deeply touched by his goodness, and 
 mounted the fresh steed allotted him with 
 hopes beginning to smile on his brow. Soon 
 the party quitted the last county, and Ed- 
 gar felt his soul revived in the beautiful 
 prospects which rose on either side. The 
 rich verdure of the shires beyond his own— 
 their luxuriant foliage deeply tinged with 
 autumn brown — the winding streams laugh- 
 G 6 jng
 
 132 t: D G A R. 
 
 ing round, with the rich and swelling val- 
 ley, delighted a mind accustomed to bold 
 rocks and wild nature. ** Oh, my coun- 
 try ! " said Atheling, " how lovely art 
 thou ! how nobly, grateful soil, dost thou 
 repay the anxiety and care of thy masters 1 
 — how well, my England, dost thou de- 
 serve the zeal of thy warriors ! even wert 
 thou less beautiful, charming land, we 
 might well prize thee — as thou art, doth a 
 drop of blood flow in the vein, that we 
 would refuse to pour out in thy defence! " 
 So mused the youth when his panting steed 
 loitered behind the royal train. Sometimes 
 the Earl of Warwick slackened his pace to 
 converse with and encourage him, for Ed- 
 gar with the modesty of deference ventured 
 not to approach the person of his Prince, 
 but held aloof, till the Duke stopped for 
 relays, when he courteously invited and 
 seated him at his table and repast. 
 
 Edward, noble, generous, and modest 
 himself, failed not to love the virtues in 
 another. He observed the young Atheling 
 and admired his unassuming devotion, and 
 silent respect — his words were full of kind- 
 ness
 
 BOOK vr. 133 
 
 ness and encouragement, and the grateful 
 soul of the youth was expressed in the finest 
 and most animated countenance of nature. 
 Beauchamp, secure in the hearts of mo- 
 narch and son, saw the rising preposses- 
 sion with honest pleasure ; and to give ex- 
 panse to the homage of his young friend, 
 siezed all opportunity of amusing him with 
 numberless little histories of the royal good- 
 ness ; to all which Edgar listened with de- 
 light. Thus the lively, the gallant, the 
 open-hearted Earl inspired him with confi- 
 dence, and the son of Mercia durst speak 
 of home, of his beloved parents, of what 
 might be their thoughts, their pursuits, 
 their pastime ; and Beauchamp to gratify 
 himself and him, pursued the theme. 
 
 On the fourth day, the vast population 
 spreading on every side, bespoke the vi- 
 cinity to a great metropolis. Welcome ! 
 proud city, that rearest thy magnificent 
 head among the clouds, encircled as thou 
 art for leagues by the stately river which 
 presses in its bosom the superb forests of 
 the mighty Ocean. London ! proud mis- 
 tress of our generous empire, v/e hail thee ! 
 
 Buried
 
 134^ EDGAR. 
 
 Buried in astonishment and awe, the young 
 Edgar gazed around him. The venerable 
 Abbey of Saint Peter''^ resting in solemn 
 majesty, attested the labours of early Chris- 
 tianity. Atheling looked, but dared not 
 speak. The royal cavalcade passed the 
 stupendous arches of stone, thrown across 
 the noble Thames.^^ The Cathedral of St. 
 Paul looked dowm secure in its immensi- 
 ty.*^ « Oh wonderful works of art!" ex- 
 claimed Edgar, and was again silent — his 
 steed followed the train — ^he heeded it not ; 
 he heard not the shouts of thousands, on 
 the recognition of the Prince they adored. 
 With eyes fixed on the streets of extent 
 without end, of warehouses filled with all 
 the luxury and produce of a Vv^orld j^^ of 
 vast edifices and stately palaces, he moved 
 incapable of utterance. At the Savoy pa- 
 lace^^ the Prince alighted, and then pre- 
 pared to visit the monarch at his palace of 
 Westminster, whilst the Earl of Warwick 
 respecting the intervievr, fell back, and 
 conducted Edgar to his mansion hard by, 
 till the following day, when he promised to 
 lead him to the feet of his King. 
 
 The
 
 BOOK vi. 135 
 
 The great Edward received the noble 
 youth with more than his usual affability, 
 and as Beauchamp declared the ambition 
 of the warrior, he instantly confirmed the 
 lionour of knighthood which had been be- 
 fore given ; and Edgar withdrew from the 
 court glowing with eagerness, to distin- 
 guish himself in the career of fame. As 
 he quitted the royal presence, a knight 
 rushed forw^ard, and caught him to his 
 breast. " Edgar," cried he, ** can it be 
 that we should thus meet, when so little 
 prepared for the joy?" " De Clifford, 
 said the youth, '* is it indeed my generous 
 friend ? most happy, too happy am I, in 
 meeting thee. Oh, my friend, give me 
 thy loved society, whilst I remain in this 
 city — remember thou hast a place in Ed- 
 gar's heart, next to his duty." How was 
 the son of Mercia elated ! he had a compa- 
 nion to whom he could impart his fears, 
 his hopes ; who w^ould share all his griefs, 
 and anticipate with him future glory. Not 
 more exquisite is the sweet and flowing 
 milk to the tender kine, than are the ge- 
 nerous
 
 136 EDGAR. 
 
 nerous communications of friendship to a 
 tender breast ! 
 
 Beauchamp suddenly broke the confer- 
 ence. " Sirs, if ye would be witnesses to 
 the most extraordinary combat of Christen^ 
 dom, I charge ye be ready by the dawn to- 
 morro\v. The King has just signified his 
 pleasure that seats be reserved for the 
 knights of his realm." Edgar modestly 
 sought for explanation, and as tlie. Earl of 
 Warwick retired, thus spoke the Lord de 
 Clifford : 
 
 . " It happened to the valiant Hugh, King 
 of Cyprus, father of the youth we knew at 
 Oxford, to have in his service, against the 
 Infidels, two knights ; one of his own 
 kindred, John de Vesconti, and the other, 
 the base brother of John, who calls himself 
 King of France, named Thomas de la 
 Marche.* One has charged the other 
 with having taken a sum of gold to betray 
 the Christian army. The other denies this, 
 and the captains fearing mischief, have 
 obliged them both to take an oath to stand 
 
 their 
 
 ■- . . * Collius's Life of the Black Prince.
 
 BOOK VI. 1S7 
 
 their award and to submit to trial in pre- 
 sence of the most honourable and worthy 
 Prince of Christendom.* Accordingly, 
 our great Edward is fixed on. The knights 
 are arrived, and I guess to-morrow will be 
 the day of trial, at which, shall surely be 
 present, the great lords and princes from 
 every court of Europe that are here as- 
 sembled.t 
 
 For the information, Edgar tlianked his 
 friend, and both impatiently asvaited the 
 event. 
 
 The area of the King's palace was 
 thronged before day. Foreign princes, 
 ladies, and nobles, were placed on the 
 right, the Prince of Wales, barons and 
 knights of England and Ireland, on the 
 left;}: The lists were marked, and round 
 them crouded thousands and tens of thou- 
 sands of the people of London. 
 • Now the trumpet sounded, the com- 
 batants appeared ; Sir John threw down 
 the gauntlet '' before the King, and Sir 
 
 Thomas 
 
 ♦ Speed'i History of England, f HoUiushed. % Stow.
 
 138 E D G A U. 
 
 Thomas boldly raised it in defiance. The 
 knights, completely armed, entered the 
 lists. At the first tilt, the spears break on 
 each other's shield, ivithout either being 
 moved from the saddle. They alight, and 
 renew the combat on foot. At the same 
 moment, both swords shiver to pieces* 
 They grapple and fall locked in each 
 other's arms. Eagerly gazed the vast mul- 
 titudes. A profound silence reigns ; hard- 
 ly dares the spectator breathe. The knights 
 eye each other through their visors, armed 
 with steel bars. They rise together. Ah ! 
 Sir Thomas, thou hast short pricks of steel 
 in thy gauntlets, thine adversary has none. 
 They grapple again. Sir Thomas aims 
 at the visage of his enemy. Sir John 
 cries out, " I cannot aid myself." The 
 great monarch of England throws down 
 his wardour ; the marshal cries, " halt !** 
 The combat ceases. The Frenchman is 
 victor, and the vanquished is at his mercy. 
 But Sir Thomas is satisfied, and refuses 
 the power,— he advances to the most vir- 
 tuous of princes ; he bends the knee : — 
 ** Noble prince, justly surnamedby my na- 
 tion,
 
 BOOK VI. 139 
 
 tion Le Keoir from thy terrible deeds, 
 and loved through Europe for thy mag- 
 nanimity, to thee I desire to present my 
 foe, to do with according to thy pleasure, 
 and I derJre to dedicate in the cathedral 
 of St. Paul my own suit of armour to the 
 great patron of England, St. George, as a 
 mark o^ gratitude for my deliverance." 
 
 The people shouted for admiration at 
 the speech, but presently v^aited tlie reply 
 irom the most beloved of men. Thus the 
 Prince of Wales : — 
 
 *' Generous Knight, I esteem myself not 
 a little Ijonoured by the favourable meaning 
 in which a stranger may take the few 
 actions of my Hfe ; and it seemeth to me 
 that I should but poorly acquit myself to- 
 wards you, and but ill follow the example 
 of the noblest of monarchs, and best and 
 most revered of fathers, if, after grate- 
 fully accepting your offering, I did not 
 release Sir John de Vesconti, and provide 
 him with a ship to regain his country. 
 Thus, Sir John, are you free ; and if the 
 preservation of your life touch yon, re- 
 member
 
 140 E D G A R. 
 
 member in your prayers the happiness and 
 prosperity of England." 
 
 The whole court rose in admiration to 
 gaze on the Prince, who raised from the 
 ground the vanquished knight. King Ed- 
 ward pressed his glorious son in his arms. 
 Th^ people burst into tears of delight, 
 whilst, " noble father ! noble son !" echoed 
 round. Edgar saw, but in silence ; he 
 looked down to conceal the emotion of his 
 ardent soul. Then followed a splendid 
 entertainment, and the. court broke up. 
 
 De Clifford, during several successive 
 days, conducted his friend through the 
 superb metropolis of England. Its tower, 
 palaces, streets and magazines challenged 
 his warm admiration, and charmed his eye. 
 but the moment was arrived when Beau, 
 champ was to conduct his young friend to 
 Windsor, that he might be present at the 
 installation of a knight in the noble Order 
 of theGarter, the most antient of Europe, 
 ^nd the most sacred. Feasts, justs and 
 tournaments, engaged the attention of the 
 nobles twarriors of England, and gave fresh 
 
 occasion
 
 BOOK YL 141 
 
 occasion to the Prince of Wales of sig- 
 nalizing himself for worth and valour.* 
 
 Edgar was placed at the round table 
 erected at V/indsor, to encourage honour- 
 able emulation, and to accommodate dis- 
 tinguished guests. Six hundred feet in 
 4[?ircumference was the hospitable board, 
 and here every knight and his men at war 
 bad a profuse diet at the king's cost.t Ed- 
 gar was proud to sit among the great war- 
 riors and captains of the times ; for guests 
 of all nations were equally caressed and 
 admitted to the royal banquet. The Queen 
 too was graciously attentive to all who 
 offered her their homage in the castle ; 
 and herself accompanied Warwick and 
 Atheling in the splendid apartments, whilst 
 the younger gazed in surprise and rapture 
 on the exquisite paintings, the arras, and 
 other valuables with which they were 
 adorned. 
 
 Now the court adjourned to London, and 
 the Black Prince waited final instructions 
 
 previous 
 
 » Collius's Life of the Black Prince. f Speed. Rapin, p. 
 422.
 
 142 EDGAR. 
 
 previous to his departure for his new duke- 
 dom. Beauchamp solicited and obtained. 
 leave to visit bis family at Warwick, an^ 
 ^dgar, agreeable to his father's commands, 
 accepted, with modesty, the offer to accom- 
 pany him thither. 
 
 After having passed the beauteous and 
 luxuriant middle counties, the Earl, in the 
 second noon, perceived from afar the tur- 
 rets of the vast castle of Kenelworth. One 
 league farther, and amidst thousands of 
 the most beautiful and lofty forest trees, 
 the pure and insinuating Avon winding 
 round her, with the proud steeple of her 
 ancient church standing on an elevated 
 rock, and looking tranquillity over neigh- 
 bouring shires, appeared the lovely town 
 which boasted that she gave name to 
 the most 'generous of English nobles. 
 *' Behold ! Edgar," cried the Earl, ** be- 
 hold the town of Warwick ; at this dis- 
 tance, even half a league off, how the 
 sight affects my old breast. I drew my 
 first breath, Edgar, in that dear place, and 
 of the many lovely trees that shade my 
 castle walls, several were planted by this 
 
 old
 
 BOOK VI. 143 
 
 old fist. Yondt:r is Guy's cliff. Has thy 
 father ever talked to thee of Guy, my 
 glorious ancestor ? Thou shalt see his 
 swbrd and armour, and withal, the huge 
 metal cauldron which held his porridge. 
 'Twas a brave champion. Hark, ye villains 
 yonder ;^'^ to your spurs, and let my lady 
 know who comes. Edgar, thou shalt see 
 a goodly race of children ; my pretty 
 Countess hath blessed me fifteen times in 
 likenesses of herself.* Ha ! there — who 
 goes ? Dame, how dost thou ? Come, give 
 thy hand to thy lord,— how fares thy lady ? 
 — tell me good news, or by St. Edward Pll 
 drown thee in the Avon." The matron 
 rejoicing bent with smiles to the Earl, 
 and bade him welcome. " The Countess, 
 heaven be praised, my lord, is in good 
 health." **Ha — ha!" exclaimed Beauchamp, 
 " thou art a good creature, I knew thy 
 smile well enough." — Saying which, he 
 darted forward, nor stopped for joy till 
 he sprang from his steed and caught his 
 lovely wife to his tirms. Nine sweet maids, 
 
 the 
 
 * Dtigilalc. Eiographia BvitaKnica.
 
 144 EDGAR. 
 
 the youngest yet a child, he in turns sa« 
 luted; and of his five sons, he tenderly 
 embraced the two youngest. Edgar ad- 
 vanced not, lest he should interrupt the 
 sweetest moments of human existence ; 
 but the Countess espied him, and demand- 
 ed of the Earl who might be the noble 
 stranger? ** Embrace him, my life," said 
 Warwick, ** 'tis the son of my friend 
 Mercia." — ** Can it really be ?" said the 
 lady ;" ** Welcome, noble Sir, I well knew 
 thy father, but 'tis long since I have seen 
 him. Welcome, dear son of our friend;" 
 and the lady held out her soft hand and 
 clasped his, as she made eager inquiry 
 after his parents. Edgar sighed at the 
 mention of these dear relatives, and he- 
 sitated to reply. The lady guessed his 
 feelings, and turning to her charming 
 daughters, named them to the youth. 
 ** My children, I present you with another 
 brother," said the Earl ; ** see that you 
 entertain him during our short stay." 
 
 The sweet freedom of the castle inmates 
 soon relieved the timidity of Edgar: per- 
 mitted topasswhole hoursin the family apart-
 
 BOOK VI. l4>5 
 
 ments, he saw with delight the innocent and 
 various occupations of young females, the 
 report of whose unaffected modesty and 
 opening charms, had already fired the 
 hopes of the first nobles of the realm. 
 " You see us ever busy," said the Countess, 
 smiling on Edgar, ** every woman is a queen 
 in her own house; 'tis fit tliat she be early 
 prepared to fill her throne with dignity. 
 The English constitution maintaineth that 
 the king can do no WTong ; now, in our 
 government, it is remarkable that the head 
 is the only one responsible. It behoves us, 
 then, who are queens and mothers too, 
 among the first duties, to see that our 
 daughters possess virtue, piety and industry. 
 Yonder is a little cherub that this day 
 passes over her eighth year, her young heart 
 is beating with eagerness to see her fath-er 
 enter, that she may present him with a 
 scarf of her own embroidering. Shew to 
 brother Edgar, the little work, my Julia.'^ 
 The, sweet girl fixed on the pleased youth 
 her beautiful dark eye, threw her polished 
 arm over the thick dark ringlets of her 
 VOL. u H Open
 
 146 EDGAR. 
 
 prpen f€MFel'i€ad, aivd with a half smile and 
 side-long step, moved to him, whilst her 
 sisters gazing, laughed. Edgar seated the 
 little maid on his knee, as he admired the 
 woi^k. " I will make a scarf for you too, 
 brother, if my mother will agree : may I, 
 madam ?'' ** Yes, surely, my child ;" said 
 the lady, " and we will give it to Lord 
 Edgar when lie returns from the v/ars/* 
 *' My sweet sister," cried the youth, " Ed- 
 gar will never part witli the scarf if the 
 lady Julia will be so good as to make one 
 for him." 
 
 Thus happily passed tlie moments and 
 swift. The day, the hour of departure 
 arrived. Accustomed to his absence, the 
 Coiiatess could n^t see her beloved husband 
 prepare to leave her for the distant war, 
 without powerful emotion. " Oh, my best 
 lord," said she, " heaven send thee back 
 again to me unhurt. Thou l:Kist been much 
 favoured, my Beauchamp, so forward in 
 danger, and so fortunate in escape. Be 
 prudent, my lo¥t. Suffer not thy impetu- 
 o^ts aoulte lead thee fcoo far. Remember 
 
 tlie
 
 BOOK Vf. M7 
 
 the Iktle world that fix their happiness in 
 thee. Oh, War, War ! how dost thou tor- 
 ture a female heart : but come, my best 
 lord, I wiM not distress thy generous soul* 
 Oh, Beauchamp, be prudent : heaven bless 
 thee ; Edgar, farewell. So saying, the lady 
 burst from them, and sought her chamber. 
 The Earl, affecting a cheerful air, embrac- 
 ed his children, and mounting his steed, 
 darted across the park, now and then hem- 
 ming to clear his breast of the load that 
 oppressed it. Edgar followed, scarcely less 
 touched. On the bridge stood men, wo- 
 men and children, who with uplifted hands, 
 prayed for the safety of their patron. He 
 bowed to them and then rushed forward, 
 nor stopped till he had cleared more than 
 three leagues. 
 
 A horseman now furiously advanced. 
 Beauchamp spoke : " Whom would y% 
 Sir ? I perceive the royal badge ; if the 
 Lord of Warwick, I am he."'-—" I bear 
 tlien, a letter for you, my lord," said the 
 messenger, " from his highness the King.'^ 
 Whereupon he delivered it, couched as it 
 was, in these terms : 
 
 H 2 " Liyt'd
 
 148 K r> G A R. 
 
 " Lord James Audley k> the Earl qf 
 Warwick. 
 " Haste, haste, haste, post haste j* fbr 
 thy hfe, haste. 
 
 ** 'Slight dear Friend, 
 ^* As touching my lord, the Prince, he 
 sets off this day for the harbour of Seton, 
 in Devonshire.! The fleet lies oif that 
 coast, and the men at war are already em- 
 barked. Return not to London, but haste 
 to meet the Prince at the aforesaid har- 
 bour. 
 
 <* This much from 
 
 " Thy trusty friend, 
 CSig7iedJ '' James Audley. 
 "By command of the King.'' 
 
 *' See now, Edgar," cried the Earl, 
 *^ that we make the best of our road across 
 t)ie country, I cannot endure that we be 
 waited for, when glory calls 1" Thus they 
 journeyed on, nor rested but for refresh- 
 ment and relays, till they gained the port, 
 where they had scarce arrived, when the 
 
 Prince 
 
 * See Burn's Antiquities of Cumberland, 
 t Collinses Life of the Black Prince.
 
 B O K VT. 149 
 
 Prince and his retinue joined them ; and 
 the weary travellers snatched a short re-, 
 pose. 
 
 Meantime the captains of the fleet de- 
 clared that a storm was gathering, and 
 recommended a delay of some hours. The 
 Prince judged it well to listen, and agreed 
 to the advice. 
 
 Edgar having slumbered for several 
 hours, arose and learned the decision of 
 the captains, and the Prince's command 
 for a delay. He paced the beach, and, 
 looking upwards, beheld the clouds gather- 
 ing gloom around them, and wrestling with 
 the wind. The plover lowered her wing ; 
 and the lesser flight, screaming, sought 
 places of shelter ; the angry wave lashed 
 its fellow, and foamed itself into a shape- 
 less mass of fluid — resembling in ifes pro- 
 gress man, who rises from the mother ele- 
 ment by imperceptible degress, bursts into 
 motion, rears the head sometimes higher, 
 now lower, than the kindred ; but at last, 
 weakened by effort, still trying at exertion 
 and clinging to hope, flutters, dwindles 
 into froth and emptiness, and is gone! — 
 H 3 «« Storm V*
 
 150 EDGAR. 
 
 «' Storm !" cried Edgar, ** thou woBldst 
 detain us in the coantry we love, but it 
 may not be. Oh, de Clifford/' continued 
 he, turning to the friend he had just met, 
 " if I had wings as a bird, how sooh 
 would I cross yon hills, and take one look 
 at Restormal.'' — " Wouidest thou not fear 
 the rolling elements around thee ?" asked 
 bis friend. " Who, I ? O de Clifford," 
 said the youth, ** how canst thou inquire, 
 when my life has glided so far among wild 
 scenes ? Many are the times that I have 
 perched myself on the turret of our castle, 
 to mark the awful indignation of Nature, 
 \vhilst the lov/ered cloud has hung around 
 my head, and poured forth her lightning 
 below me ; and dost thou ask me if I 
 fear ?" — <* I love a daring spirit," said the 
 friend j *' and if thou really jest not, my 
 steed is at thy disposal ; eight leagues has 
 the noble animal oft cleared for me in less 
 than three hours. If this be the distance 
 to Restormal, and thou desire but convey- 
 ance, be gratified." — " O, de Clifford, 
 this one niglit then am I resolved to snatch 
 to myself and paternal love. Shew me the 
 
 covert
 
 BOOK vu 151 
 
 covert of thy generous beast, that I may 
 fly." De Clifford led him to the spot.. 
 Swiftly the youth mounted, and bounded 
 forward ; and, as the little skiff at sea, 
 scudding before the wind, is now sunken 
 in the wave, and now gently and more 
 gently rises on the sight, and at last disap- 
 pears — so the uneven ground by starts 
 shewed Edgar to the eye of his friend, as 
 he watched his flight. 
 
 The beautiful courser sprang over the 
 soil, nobly regardless of the storm, vrhich 
 her keen and wondrous instinct, the gift 
 of a beneficent Creator to brutes, had 
 taught her to expect. The extensive 
 mouth of the fine river that parts the coun- 
 ties swelled before her, and deposited its 
 overflow in the briny bosom of the deep. 
 " Cross the rapid stream, my generous 
 steed," said Edgar, " and save us a wider 
 circuit. I go but to take a look at homcy 
 noble animal, and I return to glory by the 
 dawn, if thou wilt be faithful — plunge 
 then and haste. Storm, lengthen out thy 
 terrors— spend thy fury during this one 
 H 4^ night.
 
 15^ EDGAR. 
 
 night, and then shall mine honour be se- 
 cure." 
 
 The most faithful of man's subjects was 
 not insensible to the caresses of her mas- 
 ter's friend. Edgar stroked down her soft 
 and swelling throat, and leaned down to 
 part her long ringlets from her bright eye, 
 whilst the creature turned her head to lis- 
 ten to encouraging words, which de Clif- 
 ford had taught her to love. Proudly she 
 flung from the bank, broke the cloudy sur- 
 face of the waters, and in a moment per- 
 ceiving their depth, with wondrous faculty 
 of Nature pressed back the rushing stream, 
 to open a current forward. Panting, she 
 gained the centre— Edgar clung to the pro- 
 tection. On a sudden a pitch black cloud 
 passed above, and from it burst a long 
 stream of forked lightning, and instantly 
 afterwards a tremendous crash of thunder 
 rolled from rock to rock, and bellowing at 
 last, died in the hollow caverns. The 
 steed, trembling at the shock, gave a sud- 
 den rush— tlie waves rolled on Edgar's 
 head. Strong with hope of life, the youth 
 
 rose
 
 BOOK VI. 153 
 
 rose to the surface of the furious element, 
 and, eager for safety, sprang from the 
 sinking animal, and, stretching either arm, 
 combated with the fluid. Half spent, he 
 gained the opposite shore, and tlirew him- 
 self on the bank for breath. 
 
 And now he considered what resource 
 he had— without the horse nothing could 
 be further attempted. " I fear," thought 
 he, " I have been rash. Surely Hwas a 
 mad idea, to set forward such a night on 
 such a journey — alas ! I shall be detained ; 
 the fleet will sail without me, I shall be 
 dishonoured;" he started up — when he 
 perceived the generous animal standing by, 
 tossing her wet mane. Delighted, Edgar 
 called her — she advanced— and once more 
 seated, he thought only of home. ** I can 
 but try," said he, ** and if I find difficul- 
 ties I may return, and in two hours be at 
 the port." 
 
 Now he pressed on — evening crowded 
 fast round the scared world. The youth 
 paced a long craggy path till light was shut 
 out — not a star appeared in the gloomy 
 atmosphere ^ — the glare of the Jightnin^ 
 H 5 alone
 
 154 EDGAR. 
 
 alone shev/ed him at intervals a rugged and 
 forlorn heath, a dismal wood, or a fright- 
 ful declivity-— presently the blazing stream 
 rushes headlong down a tree, and in a 
 moment presents one mass of fire. The 
 sound of a horse's foot startled Edgar — he 
 pressed his courser's flanks, and once more 
 he trusted in security ; but the sound of 
 the hoof again urged him to speed, and he 
 continued at random to advance. 
 
 The heavens at last opened in torrents of 
 rain ; thoroughly drenched the youth still 
 continued, but laid the reins on the ani- 
 mal's neck, and trusted wholly to her saga- 
 city. At last, from the barking of dogs, 
 he guessed he had entered the high road, 
 and that some habitation v/as near. Cheer- 
 ed by the thought, he slackened his pace, 
 and with joy inexpressible soon spied a 
 glimmering light—he advanced to it, and 
 tapped on the casement where it stood. A 
 door immediately opened, and an old man 
 thus spoke: '' who in this dreadful night 
 that wishes for shelter, let him enter, and 
 partake of our homely fare." — ■" Good 
 father/' rephed Edgar, <« my business is 
 
 so
 
 BOOK VI. 155 
 
 so urgent that I may not stay ; tell me 
 only how far I am from Launceston ?" — 
 *' From Launceston? oh, sir, at tlie leas^ 
 two leagues. Surely, sir knight," and the • 
 old man raised the taper, ** you vvould not 
 pursue the journey on such an evening as 
 this T\ — " Oh yes, good father, and I re- 
 joice in the ground I have cleared. Am I 
 in the direct road ?" — ^^ Straight forward, 
 sir.*' — '* Thanks, good friend, then all is 
 well," exclaimed Edgar, and with renewed 
 hope encouraged his steed to exertion. In 
 one hour the paved ground shewed the 
 town, and, im.patient as w^as the youth to 
 tinish his journey, he yet stopped for a few . 
 moments, concealing his visage, to give 
 the smoking steed a slight refreshment ; , 
 and then hurrying on through the uneven . 
 track, his heart beat high with expectation • 
 and hope, as a small glimmering of light 
 arose — day seemed now on the burst, and 
 he fancied he recognized, far in the mist, 
 the park wail? of Restormal. 
 
 And now was every \ ein throbbing in its 
 
 seat. «* One look at my home — one vrord, 
 
 and I am gone !"— He had not time for 
 
 H 6 salutation ^
 
 156 EDGAR. 
 
 Salutation ; he drew down his vizor — pass- 
 ed through Lestwythiel— advanced to the 
 gate — saluted the centry — entered the court 
 yard. He was about to rush to his parent's 
 chamber — suddenly he stopped — ** No, I 
 will just see my father ;" — tlien, speaking 
 low, " I would see the Earl," said he to 
 an attendant who knew him not ; " how is 
 he ?'* — " Well ; sir knight," replied the man 
 — " be pleased to enter his private cham- 
 ber — this way — he is already risen." The 
 youth trembled as he stepped on — he was 
 admitted— the door w^as shut. The Earl^ 
 pale with conjecture, bent to welcome his 
 guest. Edgar sprang and clasped his knees 
 - — ** oh, my father, be not alarmed — 'tis I, 
 your son."—** My son ! heaven sustain me ; 
 —is the fleet gone, and art thou here ?" 
 cried Mercia. " Nay, my father, the 
 Prince and retinue wait at the port of 
 Seton for weather j in the mean time I have 
 made an effort to see my father — my mo- 
 ther — ^and I fly to return. "^ — ** Dear child 
 of mine age," said the Earl, ** what hope 
 may I not form of thy future goodness, 
 from thy duteous love ! How are my Beau- 
 champ
 
 B O O K VI. 157 
 
 champ — my Prince — my friends? What 
 said they to thee, when thou leftest them ?" 
 — *' Nought, my father," answered Edgar 
 siowly. '' No !" cried the Earl 5 '' I won- 
 der my Beaucliamp sent me not one com- 
 mand ; but eagerness for fame in him is 
 absolute — liis friend, his family are dear, 
 but dearer is glory. Generous child! and 
 hast thou, my son, in this tempestuous 
 nighty braved all, to snatch one look at thy 
 parents ? Doubtless, my Prince, who is 
 himself the noblest pattern cf filial love, 
 would respect thee, although he might 
 think thee rash. Come, my son, we will 
 seek thy mother ; she has passed a sleep- 
 less night, for she heard the roaring winds, 
 and thinking the fleet at sea, petitioned 
 heaven for thy safety." 
 
 The bewildered lamb, with torn fleece, 
 skirts the woods, and with panting strug- 
 gles presses in the hollow of a huge tree, 
 where tired and exhausted, it falls into a 
 slumber ; it dreams, that on the edge of a 
 silver stream, it cropped by the side of its 
 dam, the sweetest herbage, and breathed 
 in all the odours of the lovehest flowers of 
 
 creation :
 
 158 EDGAR. 
 
 creation : suddenly it starts ; 'tis day — and 
 with blood congealed as thick ice, round 
 the heart, it perceives the sharp eye of the 
 eagle aimed at its tender face, and the beak 
 advancing to scoop forth the orb from its 
 bed. Not less cold froze the blood of Ed- 
 gar, as he burst from his trance. With a 
 tender smile, the Earl stretched forth his 
 hand to be conducted by his son, as he 
 uttered again, ** My best son," — '* My 
 father," said Edgar, '* Oh, my father, stop; 
 one moment stop 5 do you suppose that I 
 made Beauchamp — my Prince — acquainted 
 Avith mine absence ? — Oh speak, my fa- 
 ther." 
 
 The Earl tottered backwards. " Do I 
 suppose thou wouldst leave an army on the 
 point of march, or sail, without speaking to 
 thy commander — to thy Prince ? Without 
 knowing whether thou mightest have time 
 to save thy honour ? Edgar, what meaneth 
 thy question ? What dost thou mean, I 
 ask ?" Edgar, horror-struck, and gasping, 
 stood as a marble statue, but in a moment 
 with despair, cried, " I am guilty! I asked 
 no leave 5 I spoke not of my intention to 
 
 my
 
 BOOK VI. 159 
 
 my Prince, or to the Lord Beauchamp ; no 
 one — but one, I mean— knows of my ab- 
 sence : my father, crush me to earth, with 
 your displeasure, for I am guilty 1" 
 
 Oh, Virtue, Virtue ! how grand art thou, 
 when thou clothest thyself in the com- 
 manding majesty of truih. The heedless 
 may fall, and tlie just may grasp tempta- 
 tion, but if thy power be still firm, the 
 fallen shall rise to be more strong, and the 
 just, like a swelling river that has swept 
 over the country, and recovers its limits 
 but to roll on in prouder and more even 
 grandeur, shall return with nobler zeal for 
 immortality and perfection 1 
 
 Vvlth clasped hands the Earl sat ; he 
 raised his sightless orbs to heaven ; " Dis- 
 graced !" murmured he, '^ and the son of 
 Mercia 1 But thou art well served, Mcrcia 1 
 — By what right is man vain-glorious ! and 
 was not I? — and yet, Edgar, thou hast open- 
 ed thy lip for truth — and so thou hast truth, 
 even without honour. Prithee, good, my 
 son — my son! — ha! — and have I a son? — 
 and one who has deserted the standard of 
 his country ? — Vox what ? — and for what, I 
 
 ask I
 
 160 EDGAR. 
 
 ask! — Child, thinkest thou — Oh, my Ed- 
 gar, in my lessons with thee, when with a 
 father's love, I have endeavoured to train 
 thy young mind, did I never make thee 
 understand, that an act of virtue is no 
 longer virtue than as it may be supported 
 by the motive and principle? ^Tis pious to 
 remember thy parents, but it is not so to 
 kill them in thy disgrace. Oh, child ! and 
 who was so mad, sayest thou, as to know 
 thy scheme, and not make one effort to save 
 thee ? Who knew of thy departure ?" The 
 ghastly cheek of Edgar flashed across. " Oh, 
 sir ! my respected father, if so I dare ad- 
 dress you, — I cannot reveal his name. Sir, 
 be not angry ; I fear> my lord, your indig- 
 nation against him, when he is innocent, 
 and I alone deserve punishment." — ** I 
 respect thy generosity, Edgar," answered 
 the Earl ; '< but let me tell thee, that he 
 who would unreproving see thee plunge 
 into dishonour, is not thy friend -, beware 
 of him^ whoever he be." — " Oh, Heaven ! 
 what shall I . ."—" Edgar, for the first 
 moment of my life, I could wish . ." — 
 ** Sir, oh, my lord !" exclaimed the youth, 
 
 casting
 
 BOOK VI. 161 
 
 casting himself on his knees, and seizing 
 his parent's hands, *' Oh, pronounce not 
 any thing yet more dreadful than the dis- 
 pleasure, which rings in mine ear ! My 
 lord, pardon, but pardon, and embrace me 
 -^I will fly, for I may yet be saved ; the 
 wind, the elements, may yet befnend me." 
 — ** Fly then !" thundered the Earl, and 
 started from his seat ; '* away ! and take 
 the fleetest steed I possess. Stay not a 
 moment! my faithful attendant shall cut 
 the air with thee ; and bring me back 
 peace or misery. Bend to the Prince ; con- 
 fess, even to a thought, thy rash deed, and 
 remember that the noblest pleasure of a 
 magnanimous soul, is to give ease to the 
 breast that pleads forgiveness. Upon these 
 conditions, thou art again my son, my be- 
 loved son. — Away 1" The Earl, as he 
 spoke, commanded the steed. ** My rever- 
 ed father, I ask no more ; but my mother . .'' 
 — " Fly, if thou wouldst save her.". — *< I 
 hear~I hear — 'tis my son," wildly exclaim- 
 ed the Countess, from the inner chamber ; 
 ** Where, oh, where is he ? Why this con- 
 cealment?" — " May I, my father?" cried 
 
 Edgar.
 
 16^ EDGAR. 
 
 Edgar. " Not a word," commanded the 
 Earl; ** Edgar, I insist — this moment 
 away I" 
 
 The youth burst from his father's pre- 
 sence as he caught sight of his mother's 
 robe, at the opposite door. Wildly he 
 pressed the iiery steed, and swift as the 
 meteor's passage, fled ; for the Earl's voice, 
 so loud, so full of terror, rang in his ear ; 
 whilst his mother's plaintive words cut his 
 heart. Bathed in foam, the animal tore 
 through the streets of Launceston. From 
 a cottage issued a figure enveloped in a 
 mantle, which mounting a steed, scoured 
 after Edgar, who pursued his track regard- 
 less of all. 
 
 The sun rose in cloudless splendour.— 
 Atheling's heart again sank. He drew 
 near the river in which he had nearly suf- 
 fered ; he passed its bridge. At a dis- 
 tance, he caught sight of the ocean. " Oh, 
 storm ! hadst thou but continued," said he, 
 " Oh, my heart, break thou down, my bo- 
 som, if the fleet have sailed, for my father's 
 displeasure I cannot bear. The port ; now 
 my fate. I see ! — I see a sail — surely two — 
 
 hail I
 
 BOOK VI. 163 
 
 —hail ! hail 1 oh, hope ! joy 1 honour ! life! 
 glory !— the fleet I I see the fleet 1'' — «' The 
 fi«et V' echo the horsemen behind ; the 
 voice of one is that of his father's man ; 
 that of the other is de Clifford. " My 
 friend !— but I nmy not wait. — Good sir,'* 
 and he accosted a man, «* is the Prince still 
 in town ?'' — " The Prince is gone, sir,'' 
 replied he, " it is half an hour since."^ — 
 " A boat ! sailors, a boat ! — gain the fleet, 
 and this purse is your's ! De Clifford, 
 quick !'' They rush to the bark, the Earl's 
 attendant accompanying them. Edgar, 
 skilled in the management of the oar, 
 siezed two, and with all his strength la- 
 boured. The fleet had cleared the bay, and 
 was spreading her sails. Panting with hope 
 and fear, the two friends with the seamen 
 cut the waves. They gain upon the fleet — 
 they are seen — a signal is hoisted in the 
 last vessel— she slackens the speed. *' Ge- 
 nerous, generous captain !" exclaimed Ed- 
 gar. The ship is near ; a ladder of ropes 
 is thrown down her side. Edgar rushes 
 forward — he stops. " Ascend, de Clif- 
 ford : let me see thee in safety." — " No, 
 
 Edgar,
 
 i6'i E D G A H. 
 
 Edgar, do thou." — <** I stir not, till thou 
 have passed," reph'ed the other. His friend 
 then grasped the hempen steps, and rushed 
 up to the deck : the son of Mercia follow- 
 ed, gained the height, fell on his knee : 
 '* God be praised ! my parents are saved !" 
 He started up, let fall into the boat the 
 purse of gold, blessed the attendant who 
 was to return with the joyful news, and 
 then, trembling with anxiety, fear, exer- 
 tion, and joy, tottered pale and speechless 
 to a bench, on which he sank ; v>^hilst his 
 head fell on his breast. Thus the young 
 cygnet, when its parent ^creams to danger, 
 beats alarmed the flood to join her, and 
 dispels her fears, — then, tired itself, and 
 panting, it spreads the snowy wing, and 
 for a moment droops. 
 
 De Clifford hastened to order a goblet of 
 generous wdne^ and some bread. ** He 
 «inks but for want of food/' said he. Ed- 
 gar presently revived ; and as the naval 
 commander respectfully urged him to des- 
 cend into the vessel and take repose, the 
 young warriors obeyed. 
 
 '' De
 
 BOOK VI. 165 
 
 ^' De Clifford," said Edgar, " my senses 
 are scarce awakened to reason, but me- 
 tliinks thou art the same horseman that 
 pursued me from Launceston : how earnest 
 thou to loiter behind the fleet? Surely thy 
 generosity — but tell me." 
 
 " Edgar," answered his friend, '^ I have 
 to crave thy pardon ; I might have pro- 
 duced thy ruin through my rashness — but I 
 will tell thee all. 
 
 ^ Yesterday, hearing thy wish, I only 
 desired to make thee happy ; I opposed not 
 the plan, wild as it was ; I thought not of 
 consequences; but not two hours hadstthou 
 quitted m.e, w^hen the Earl of Warwick met 
 and inquired for thee. I hesitated, and he 
 insisting, in confidence I told him. ** The 
 fleet will sail then \ and the son of Mercia 
 is disgraced," said he, turning abruptly 
 from me. I stood motionless. Disgraced ! 
 repeated I, my friend disgraced ! and 
 through me ! then will I share his disho- 
 nour and his danger. In a moment was I 
 on my second steed. I fled forward ; and 
 inquired of a peasant wiio had seen thee 
 madly plunge into the river — I also plunged 
 
 —I
 
 166 E p G A R. 
 
 — I crossed in safety. I cantintied to press 
 the animal ; I beard thee j I called to tliee; 
 furiously I pursued, mad as the baited bull, 
 that thou shouldst not know ray voice ; to 
 Launeeston I traced thee ; the animal was 
 spent, I could go no farther, and here I 
 was resolved to wait thy return. Shelter 
 for myself and my steed, I gained, and I 
 darted upon every horseman to watch if it 
 might be thou ; at last I saw thee, and I 
 followed, resolved that thy fate should be 
 
 mine." 
 
 *^ Kind and generous de Clifford !" ex- 
 claimed Edgar. « Nay, cease," interrupted 
 the other, '^ I deserve thy blame ; I being 
 m much thine elder, should have given 
 itsee better counsel j but my soul, oh Ed- 
 gSit ! is made of fire ; mine is an impetuous 
 breast. — What? — I guess that thy father 
 \vas high in his just indignation against me?" 
 —<^ De Clifford," said Atlieling, '« I should 
 sfcand mine own aversion, if I could excul- 
 pate myself at the expense of another, and 
 tbat qbker^ iny friend ; — no, tie Clifford ; 
 I named tfee© Bot— inadvertently, I said, 
 
 &n6
 
 B O O K VI. 1 67 
 
 one knew of my flight, but I disclosed no 
 more.'* 
 
 Again the friends embraced, the heart of 
 each beating high with pride in the other. 
 — So two noble pines, the glory, the orna- 
 ment of the proud mountains of Cambria, 
 rear their green heads together. The winds, 
 envious of their sweet intimacy, bellow 
 amongst the leaves, whirl through their 
 branches, and shower around th^ir young 
 roots, tlie threatening hailstones : the one 
 leaaas on the other, determined to live by 
 the same shelter, or to fall by the same 
 blow. The storm, growling, retires 5 and 
 the lovely friends, revived by the soft dews, 
 burst forth the next dawn, to fuller joy, 
 grandeur, beauty, and strength. Thus 
 beamed delighted the young ornaments 
 among great England-'s chieftains. 
 
 Breezes favoured the navy ; and the 
 lovely island of Britain drew round hev 
 chaste bosom a dewy veil, that soon hid 
 her from the tender gaze of Edgar. Invo- 
 iUTitarily he stretched out his arms, " Oh, 
 my country ! if it be my let to heflg once 
 again over thy swett prospects, and to kiss 
 
 the
 
 168 EDGAR. 
 
 the skirt of thy soil, may I see in thee 
 only increase of power, beauty, and hap- 
 piness! and may time, which rocks every 
 other foundation, respect thy throne, and 
 thy footstool !" 
 
 The proud fleet rolled forward and 
 plunged into the depths of Biscay, The 
 dark green billows now playful, wrestled 
 with the oak, and then inconstant, rose 
 against and struck him with their surge. 
 The monarch of the forest calmly bestrode 
 the element, ahke careless of the frown or 
 smile of the most fickle of alhes. But 
 Edgar loved to mark the changes of its cha- 
 racter : " Ocean," said he, ** I acknow- 
 ledge thy power, thy dominion is immense ; 
 thy subjects are innumerable j thy regions 
 extend downward to the very heart of 
 earth ; and as the one principle of life is 
 motion, and thou art never at rest, per- 
 haps thou mayest turn some secret spring 
 that winds up nature, when she begins to 
 slacken in her beat : whatever by thy secret 
 powers, thou canst unfold or command, an 
 authority which w^e do not care to provoke 
 — yet, sovereign as thou art, remember the 
 
 Omnipotent
 
 BOOK VI. 169 
 
 Omnipotent measured thee in the hollow 
 of his hand, and set bounds for thee, which 
 thou darest not pass. With one breath He 
 can dry thee, as the single drop that falls 
 hissing on the red bar of iron, which leaves 
 but the faint trace of where it once was. 
 Venerable as thou art in thine antiquity ; 
 thou who hast watched the features of the 
 great Patriarcli, as he conducted his chil- 
 dren through thy secret paths, who hast 
 made acquaintance with the monarch of 
 pyramidal Egypt, and the citizen of com- 
 mercial Tyre ; who hast borne a fugitive 
 queen to establish a new kingdom, and 
 monarchs to overthrow the old ; who hast 
 been defied by the haughty Republic, and 
 chained by the Eastern despot : thou, who 
 hast witnessed the overthrow of kingdoms, 
 empires, religions, states, countries; thou 
 hast preserved thy originality, excepting in 
 one, in one single instance. Uncurl thy 
 daring wave when the great name of the 
 Ptedeemer of mankind is pronounced — 
 thou didst feel the pressure of his sacred 
 foot, and trembhng, thy drops curdled 
 with reverence and awe, thy slippery par- 
 voL. I. I tides
 
 .170 EDGAR. 
 
 tides knit together, and witii the ilinL 
 influence, wrapping thee, in asranisbaafint. 
 thy surface strove for the touch, cluDg to- 
 gether, and became stone ! Reraember, 
 venerable as thou art, ihat thou shalt not 
 sunive the last man ; thou art coeval with 
 hira, but when eanh i nc longer, man 
 shall be immortal, but thou ?hait have 
 ceased to be. Restrain then, ihy /ast pride, 
 nor think because thy power be great, that 
 thou art superior to beings designed for 
 eternity, and protected by heaven." 
 
 The vessels doubled the point^at the en- 
 trance of the river, and sailing forward, 
 soon cast anchor opposite the good city of 
 Bourdeaux, whose inhabitants made the 
 shores resound with acclamations when they 
 learned that their great Prince, and his 
 generous train, were arrived. The Bishop,* 
 the clergy, and the whole population, rush- 
 ed to pay their duty, and Edward stepped 
 ashore amidst thunders of delight, and 
 hastening to the palace of King John of 
 England,'- commanded the gates to be 
 
 thrown 
 
 * CoUins's Lift of the BUck Prince.
 
 BOOK VI. 171 
 
 thrown open, that every one might have 
 free access to his person. 
 
 The heart of Edgar palpitated with doubt 
 and fear, as lie observed his Prince in the 
 boat, with the Lord High Admiral at the 
 helm, drawing near to shore. •' I too," 
 tliougbt he, '•' might have been seated iu 
 the boat with my Prince, and have been 
 .among the foremost iu wielding the oar, 
 had I not been indiscreet ; but I will en- 
 deavour to regain the confidence of the 
 two beings I most respect in the world, 
 after my father." Eagerly he followed, that 
 he might tirst see the royal duke, and have 
 an opportunity cf exculpating his fiiend. 
 He passed through the streets, rushed by 
 the church of St. Simeon, crossed the court, 
 and seeking only the Prince, flung himself 
 on liis knee before him. 
 
 *• My Prince," exclaimed he, ''graciously 
 hear me ; in a mad tit of indiscretion, I 
 by stealth quitted my post, regardless of 
 my honour, my friends, my family. Not 
 content with seeking my own ruin, I m- 
 volved a noble warriour and a friend. My 
 Prince, I am guilty ; I merit to be dis- 
 I 2 graced.
 
 172 E D G A r: 
 
 graced. If the great Edward consults but 
 justice, he will do violence to his generous 
 breast and condemn me ; but if he acts 
 from his own magnanimous soul, he will 
 pardon both for the errors of one, and will 
 swell two hearts with never ending grati- 
 tude." De Clifford rushed forward. — *' My 
 Lord, I am the guilty one ; hear me ; on 
 me let your anger fall. I advised 5 I listen- 
 ed ; I urged, I persuaded him that he 
 would have time to go to his castle and re- 
 turn before the dawn. On me, my Lord, 
 on me ;" — and he presented his sword to 
 pledge his disgrace. " How darest thou, 
 mad " exclaimed Edgar, with indigna- 
 tion and surprise. 
 
 The assembly murmured its admiration. 
 The Prince, touched at the generosity, 
 i-emained a few moments silent. At length, 
 with graceful majesty, he stretched forth 
 his hand to each friend. ** Go, both of 
 you," said he, *' be happy in your fidelity. 
 You have my pardon and my esteem, in 
 token whereof is my hand. The favour of 
 my God hath taught me mercy ; the pre- 
 cepts of my great father, forbearance > and 
 
 my
 
 BOOK VI. 173 
 
 my own passions make me sensible that I 
 am but a man. Rise, my lords, and re- 
 sume your station in my court." 
 
 Ten thousand ravens are concealed amid 
 huge rocks vaulted by the hand of Time. 
 Upon a signal, the whole band flutters the 
 pinion, and by degrees swells into one vast 
 sound. So burst the admiration and extasy 
 of the numbers that exalted the name of 
 the mighty Prince of Wales. De Clifford, 
 impetuous and ardent, thundered forth his 
 delight in the noble act : Edgar, touched 
 to the heart, kissed the extended hand and 
 retired. 
 
 i^
 
 ITI* EDGAR. 
 
 BOOK VIL 
 THE ACTION. 
 
 Soft Patience! lend thy prophetic mir- 
 rour, and let us pass in review some of the 
 miseries of humanity, which thou wast 
 benevolently formed to assuage ; whilst 
 thou shalt preserve thy melting air, with 
 an eye raised to heaven, and half dimmed 
 ^ by one tear, thy lip slightly distended by 
 the smile of suffering angels, thy head 
 leaning back on the bosom of Hope, as one 
 hand is pressed to thy heart, the other 
 spread to Religion, who standeth near, and 
 on her sacred tablet marks every pang as it 
 sighs in the fold of thy garment. First, I 
 see the beloved child of his parents, seizing 
 the thread of their days, and clipping inches 
 every day from the roll. Oh, Nature, 
 where art thou? — Ait thou transfixed in 
 a statue of marble ? I see disease flitting 
 before me, of limbs, of vitals, of faculties — 
 let us weep, for they are supportable. But 
 now — what ? — I behold a tender and 
 exquisite soul, which feehng every soft 
 
 affection^
 
 BOOK VII. 175 
 
 afiection, looks smiling round the world 
 for a kindred breast in which to pour forth 
 every hope of life, every little joy, every 
 empassioned tenderness of friendship. *Tis 
 done : life, fortune, hope, every senti- 
 ment, every passion, every delight that 
 clings round human existence, is gradually 
 poured out. What is the return ? Trea- 
 chery and ingra., ...Stop thou, my 
 
 tongue ; my heart sickens ; liglit is dim- 
 med. Patience ! I know thee not — thou 
 hast fled !— 
 
 The following day, the Duke of Aqui- 
 tain marshalled his army into three divisions. 
 The advance was given to his faithful War- 
 wick ; and under him was joined, de Clif- 
 ford and Edgar. The second,* the Duke 
 himself led, with the attendant knights. 
 bannerets, and nobles. The third, he gave 
 to the Lords Suffolk and Salisbury. All the 
 retinue of the barons and men at arms, 
 marched under their chiefs ; their banner, 
 that of St. George ; their Prince, the noble 
 and invincible Edward. Every breast flut- 
 tered with impatience and ardour to en- 
 i4 gage 
 
 *_Collins's Life of the Black Prince.
 
 176 EDGAR. 
 
 gage with the enemy of the state. The 
 word was given, the little faithful army was in 
 motion ; and as the curling flames insinuate 
 through the embrowned furze, and at 
 length lay it prostrate, so was the progress 
 of Edward through the hostile provinces of 
 southern France : bending the pride of his 
 foes, and obliging them to yield to the 
 strength of his arm. But winter advanced ; 
 hostilities ceased : and Bourdeaux was again 
 cheered by the grandeur of a brilliant courts 
 the generosity of her English nobles, and the 
 princely virtues and majesty of her British 
 royal master. 
 
 The young warriours that had blazed in 
 the campaigns and returned home laden 
 with honour and spoil,'* hastened to secure 
 their trophies to their own families, and to 
 transmit the long list of captures and feats 
 to their beloved homes. Edgar too, was 
 not without honours for Restormal walls. 
 In the generosity of his heart, he extolled 
 every action but his own, and magnified 
 every chieftain, ever forgetting his own 
 prowess, and neglecting to name the bles. 
 sings of an aged captive upon his tender- 
 ness,
 
 BOOK vir. 177 
 
 ness, or the thanks of a weeping mother 
 for the preservation of her child. These 
 were Edgar's trophies — others he had but 
 few. To chastise the insolent, and to raise 
 the fallen, was his aim — he sought the 
 approbation of his heart, and all was well. 
 
 Summer rose upon the inhabitants of 
 Bourdeaux, when twice four * thousand 
 men and nobles again salUed forth, and 
 took a northerly direction. Edgar and 
 de Clifford who had hitherto fought in 
 the midst of heroes, panted to distinguish 
 themselves by a briUiant deed. De Clifford 
 bent to his Prince. ** Oh, my lord, per- 
 mit me with a chosen few to scour in front 
 of the army. The town and castle we next 
 assault in our marcli are strongly fortified — 
 we would crave the honour, with a small 
 band, to give it first proof of English ar- 
 dour." " Be it so, my lord,'' replied 
 ^Edward, " but remember that courage 
 without prudence defeateth her own pur- 
 pose." 
 
 Edgar, the proud Edgar, mounted by 
 I 5 the 
 
 * CoUins's Life of the Black Prince.
 
 178 EDGAR. 
 
 the side of his friend, and with a httle 
 band of men now rapidly advanced ; and 
 the tow^n and battlements of Romorantin,* 
 soon peeped from the mist before tbem. 
 The party rushed forward to the very 
 walls — suddenly a number of horsemen 
 burst from their ambuscades. " The mo- 
 ment is arrived," thundered Edgar ; " the 
 enemy is here, and twice our strength ; 
 glory, rest thou on the banner of St. 
 George *, archers, remember ; comrades, re- 
 member the country you fight for." De 
 Clifford rallied his men with words of 
 thunder. 
 
 The enemy rushed fiercely onward. t 
 " Open the ranks, and break the shock," 
 cried Atheling, ** now face about and 
 Gharge." Man drives to man ; carnage 
 sits on the pointed bow, and exasperating 
 the wounded, hurries them to destruction. 
 Edgar animating his men with eager eye, 
 seeks the noblest foe. Quick the hostile 
 chief perceived his aim. With fury he 
 spurred his steed. Edgar delighted met 
 
 him. 
 
 * Gollins-s Life of ihe Black Pi-iirce. t Itid.
 
 BOOK VII. 179 
 
 him. Then thus the Lord Craon : " me- 
 thinks thou art of royal descent, by the 
 bearings on thy shield ; thou art seeking the 
 weight of my arm ; I would have spared 
 thy youth, but now will I punish thy 
 audacity." " I rejoice that thou art pre- 
 pared to defend thyself," retorted Edgar> 
 " stripling as I am, I have learned to re- 
 spect the unguarded." Hereupon the 
 combatants drove furiously at each other, 
 their spears shivered to atoms against the 
 polished steel — they drew — Edgar made 
 a thrust with his sword and missed, but 
 his antagonist's steed received the blow 
 and dropped. The Lord Craon shook 
 off the dust, disengaged himself, and 
 would have resumed the combat. ** Nay, 
 Sir," cried Athehng, *♦ I too wilt 
 dismount ; fortune would give me too 
 great advantage." Now began again the 
 engagement, whilst the conquering Britons 
 panting, waited the issue. Ciaon, tired of 
 the delay, made a pass at Edgar, The 
 young hero bent his body, and evading the 
 blow, rushed to his adversary who was dis- 
 ordered by the effort, and plunging the 
 I 6 blade
 
 180 EDGAR. 
 
 blade in his side, threw him from his ba- 
 lance. He fell. The French noble strug- 
 gled to draw his opponent after him, and 
 saw with joy that his weapon had drawn a 
 red stream from the young chieftain's arm. 
 But Edgar perceived the second aim, and 
 by a rapid movement, wrested his sword 
 from his hand, and stepping on, planted 
 over his breast one knee. " My lord, 
 your life is mine : rise. Sir, and yield. — 
 Permit me to embrace so valiant a chief.'' 
 The Lord Craon, slowly recovering him*- 
 stlf, bent to Edgar, and with downcast 
 look, accepted the proffered hand. '^ Ge- 
 nerous knight," said he, " tell me thy 
 name, that 1 may teach my sons to respect 
 it." *' I am," replied Atheling, with mo- 
 desty, '^ a relict of the house of SU. 
 Edward, whose line long sv/ayed the Eng- 
 lish sceptre. My name is Edgar Atheling." 
 ^' Courageous young prince," said theother^ 
 " hadst thou not even grandeur of birth, 
 thou wouidst be the noblest of heroes. — 
 I yield ; receive my sword." Edgar bow- 
 ed low to touch the proffered steel, and 
 taking off his gauntlet instantly, and with 
 
 sweetness^
 
 BOOK VII. 181 
 
 sweetness, presented the blade again to 
 him. 
 
 The main army with the English mar- 
 shals hastily advanced to the rencounter, and 
 de Clifford drove up to the Earls, to ac- 
 quaint them with the particulars of Lord 
 Craon's defeat. Beauchamp stretched forth 
 his hand to his young and modest friend. 
 " Edgar," said he, *« this will sound well 
 at home ; 'twas bravely done, Edgar." " Oh, 
 my lord," replied Atheling, as he grasped 
 the hand, '' one word of approbation from 
 you, fires my soul with transport. In you, 
 I hear the voice of a father, a prince, and 
 a friend 1" 
 
 The advanced force pressed to the assault 
 of the city of Romorantin, and quickly 
 mastered the town. The castle remained 
 to be conquered ^ the herald gave a blast 
 for a parley ; the governor appeared. Thus 
 spake the great Lord Chandos : <« Sirs, if 
 ye will yield, our noble Prince, who is 
 renowned for every virtue, will act bv you 
 with generosity, and moreover grant you 
 
 every 
 
 * Collins's Life of the Black Princ«.
 
 18^ EDGAR, 
 
 everj honour, provided you deliver up the 
 fortress to his arms." — " Tliat may be, sir 
 knight/' answered the other, " but we 
 choose to defend ourselves as men." — " Be 
 it so," cried the Duke of Aquitain, who 
 just arrived ; " we will give them play." 
 Whereupon he laid the plan, and com- 
 manded the assault. 
 
 The archers took the lead, and fired by 
 the voice of Edward, which repeatedly en-* 
 couraged them from the spot where danger 
 stood fiercest, shot hastily and rapidly at the 
 defences.^ AtheUng, with his followers 
 on planks, cast themselves into the deep 
 stream round the walls, and amid showers 
 of darts and stones, gained the opposite 
 side. He seizes a sharp tool : ** Now, my 
 friends^ to work : Strike the walls ; pierce 
 the enclosure ; open the breach ; honour 
 shall;' be ours." With a shout the brave 
 rush to work. Stones, lime, sand, rocks, 
 fall dreadful from the heights. Yet is the 
 work pursued. Some few sink to primi- 
 tive dust, the living observe, and are but 
 more desperate. 
 
 Night 
 
 * C<)JlJns's Life of llie Black Prince,
 
 BOOK VII. 18S 
 
 Night casts her trembling shades. By 
 the torch light the hero directs his men. 
 The cement gives way — " Joy ! " cried 
 Edgar, " the place is ours." By the 
 glimpse of morn a small opening is 
 made. '' Now, my brave, give me a ban- 
 tier of England," exclaimed Atheling. 
 Onward pressed the youth and two or three 
 followers across the narrow defile. A 
 small passage met his step enclosed between 
 two walls.^' He advanced sword in hand, 
 daring and silent, through impenetrable 
 darkness. Fearful of events, the little 
 band held close their arms least the clash- 
 ing might betray. The air of heaven blows 
 keen — they cross a paved court — a small 
 ray of light flashes on one side. Two cen- 
 tinels pace up and down. The Britons 
 rush upon them and present the sword. 
 ** Stop," said Edgar, " bind up the mouth 
 and hands, let us not slay except for ne- 
 cessity." A stone flight of steps appeared. 
 Edgar hastens to mount j he gains the 
 height. The alarm is given ; he rushes 
 on the enemy j scatters them on every side ; 
 hails his men } bellows to the army below, 
 
 who
 
 184 EDGAR. 
 
 who plunge forward to join him ; tears 
 down the ensign of France, and himself 
 plants on high, the standard of England. 
 
 Now whole hosts rush from below, and 
 drive with desperate fury against him* 
 Strong he leaned his back against the sacred 
 colours of his land, parries the blows, and 
 wields his blade to attack — with the trusty 
 weapon he had already stretched six foes 
 upon the ground, when an exasperated 
 number crowded desperate on, resolved to 
 crush him by united force. Edgar, the 
 noble Edgar, wounded and spent, dealt 
 feeble and more feeble blows; his arm, stiff 
 with exertion, could scarcely rise from its 
 body, when lo ! the sound of a roaring bull 
 made the astonished enemy turn. De 
 Clifford, the furious de Clifford, had from 
 his station below, where he had been en- 
 gaged, seen Edgar fixing the standard* 
 Shuddering for his friend, and knowing 
 not of the breach, he had boldly plunged 
 into the stream, scaled the walls, torn 
 down every opposition, gained the citadel, 
 and wild in boiling rage, now stamped on 
 the ground to draw the danger round him- 
 
 selff
 
 BOOK VII. 185 
 
 self 5 with one arm he poised the massy 
 shield, with his lance in the other he scat- 
 tered the appalled foe around him. Quick- 
 ly is Edgar released^ and now fresh forces 
 of England mount the breach and join the 
 heroes. The enemy throws down the wea- 
 pon, and craves mercy. 
 
 The Prince of Wales at the head of his 
 valiant army entered the citadel — he ad- 
 vanced to Edgar and embraced him. 
 " Noble young chief/' said he, *' the 
 honours you have this day won, shall rank 
 you high among England's favourites and 
 in Edward's esteem. De Chffbrd too is 
 worthy your affection and my regard. Ac- 
 cept both of you the gauntlet of your 
 Prince, as a pledge of your merit, and his 
 future acknowledgment." 
 
 Edgar covered with blushes and glory 
 bowed to the ground. Thus the beauteous 
 queen of fiov.ers lifts her damask head in 
 the hope of fame, and bursting forth, ex- 
 cites the wonder of all around her. The 
 monarch of the honied realm, hovering in 
 the air, perceives delighted the glorious 
 display, and with ardour rushes to offer her 
 
 bright
 
 166 E D G A K. 
 
 bright homage^ The lovely candidate, 
 touchedj honoured, distinguished, leans in 
 supreme joy her head downward and pal- 
 pitates to a deeper glow. So bent the rosy 
 cheek of Edgar. 
 
 Three days of rest invigorated the hearts 
 of the brave army, and restored the 
 strength and spirit of ihe young Atheling. 
 Again the Duke of Aquitain set forward 
 on his march bearing down all that op- 
 posed him. In fifteen days he commanded 
 his messengers to disclose their intelligence, 
 and his captains to prepare for encampment 
 on the fields of Maupertuis. ** What say 
 you," cried he, *' that John of France is 
 entering Poictiers hard by, with an army 
 of fifty thousand * horse and fiftyt thous- 
 and foot?" " Well then," continued Ed- 
 ward, turning to his marshals, " in the 
 name of God, let us consider how we may 
 fight them at our best advantage; for against 
 numbers, policy is requisite." 
 
 Atheling in the advance guard, had 
 pitched his tent and spread his mantle for 
 rest. Big with fancies and ardour in the 
 
 approaching 
 
 « Ci>llii)s's Life of the Black Pi-ince. f HolUngshed, p. 309.
 
 BOOK VII. 187 
 
 approaching battle, he felt not disposed 
 for sleep, and raising the folds of the curtain 
 looked upon the beams of the silver moon. 
 For some time he gazed, and then stepped 
 onward to listen to the plaintive bird, that 
 warbled in elegy to the shades of foes to be 
 slain. She was hidden among the thick 
 vine fences, that skirted the plains of Mau- 
 pertuis. Edgar listened and sighed. " Pity 
 is it, sweet bird," said he, " but, if insa- 
 tiable monarchs will usurp a country's right, 
 let them answer for the blood of the patriot 
 who resists the oppression.*' As he spoke, 
 he heard a faint sound, softly he crept 
 under the vines towards it — passed the cen- 
 tinels, and slid down the winding lane* 
 The noise grew nearer — he grasped his 
 sword — an animal made a leap at him — he 
 looked down, and by the moonlight per- 
 ceived a warrior lying without helmet, and 
 to appearance asleep. Edgar stooped low. 
 The costume of the under vest was not 
 that of England. "^ A foe — and unarmed," 
 said he softly, and he sheathed the sword. 
 Gently he touched the prostrate man— he 
 suddenly started, and stretched out his 
 
 hand
 
 188 E D G A K. 
 
 hand for his helmet, but exhausted he again 
 fell. Atheling spoke. " Chieftain, I see 
 you belong to the enemy — your person is^ 
 sacred with me, for you are defenceless^ 
 and perhaps wounded. Can I assist you ? 
 — speak!'' «* Generous Briton," replied 
 the other, " I am the Lord Chauvigny,* 
 and a marshal of France, I was hotly pur- 
 sued this morn by a party of English, and 
 was wounded — with difficulty I escaped ; 
 my horse fell under me — I hastened for- 
 ward on foot, and in yon thicket concealed 
 myself till night; when spent and parched 
 with drought, I stretched myself here, 
 having braced up the jaws of this my faith- 
 ful dog, least his howl should betray me. 
 But, generous knight, I yield to you, and 
 noble shall be my ransom. "^^ " Nay, my 
 lord, that shall not be," replied Edgar ; 
 " but I will assist you. Never shall Edgar 
 Atheling take advantage of a distressed 
 foe. And now, my lord, let me help you 
 to rise, perchance you may walk to my 
 tent hard by." With grateful thanks the 
 stranger strove to rise, and grasping the 
 
 proffered 
 
 * CoIliQs's Life of tlie Black Priucc.
 
 BOOK VII. 189 
 
 proffered arm slowly moved to the tent, 
 Edgar soon placed him on his mantle, 
 lifted the pitcher of sparkHng water, and 
 held it to the devouring lip. He then pre- 
 sented some bread and fruit, with wishes 
 for a better supply. After which he bath- 
 ed the deep wound on the thigh, and assist- 
 ing the stranger to clasp his helmet and 
 breast-plate ; again raised him, and bring- 
 ing out his own steed from the side of his 
 tent; " now, my lord, exert yourself to 
 mount, touch- with the spur, and the ge- 
 nerous beast will soon convey you to a 
 place of security ; — and if by to-morrow 
 your spirit revive to battle, ^ve will meet 
 and together try our prowess." Thus say- 
 ing, Edgar lifted his enemy, who grateful 
 pressed his hand, and with difficulty mount- 
 ing was presently out of reach, and fol- 
 lowed by his faithful hound. The young 
 hero once more threw himself upon the 
 ground — his magnanimous breast glowing 
 in every delight of virtue. *^ Oh, my 
 God ! " said he aloud, m the tenderness 
 of his soul ; " w^ierefore is it that we do 
 j3ot oftener practice lessons of goodness, 
 
 when
 
 190 EDGAR. 
 
 when deeds of goodness alone can raise to 
 the enjoyment of such bliss. To be monarch 
 of empires, I would not now exchange the 
 blessing of a conscience, a conscience that 
 tells me I have done my duty. Oh ! may 
 it ever be so ! may I ever dread to offend 
 this awful monitor !" 
 
 The angel of sleep now laid his finger 
 upon the lids of Edgar, and joining them, 
 called to the guardian spirits of innocent 
 youth to assemble round their charge. 
 The lovely multitude came fluttering from 
 the moon beams, where they respectful 
 stood, waiting the call of their supreme. 
 Arrayed in shades of silvery white as the 
 emblem of purity, they were the happy 
 souls of human blossoms, not yet partaking 
 the highest blissof heaven, but in celestial 
 harmony performing the will of the Creator. 
 Of the soft band, some took their airy 
 station round his head, and scattered away 
 every malignant shade; some blew away 
 the curling lock from the temple to give 
 the artery sweeter play, whilst others 
 fanned away from the nostril and lip the 
 d^wy vapour which stole from the humid 
 
 ground
 
 BOOK VII. 191 
 
 ground on which their charge reposed. 
 Some by the friction of a zephyr, as it 
 grazes the fragrant jessamine, soothed his 
 limb, and assisted the flood of life in its 
 course Some opened the current of air 
 to replenish existence, and collected, 
 amassed, and trampled on the hot particles 
 which nature had dismantled of their ex- 
 cellence for her own use ; whilst the re- 
 maining number hovered around, and by 
 their sweet influence, filled the heart of 
 the honoured mortal w^ith serenity and 
 peace. 
 
 But ere the dawn opened, they resigned 
 their charge to the guardian of day. Ed- 
 gar felt their departure, and instantly rose. 
 
 The enemy was in motion, and advanced 
 with King John, his sons Charles, John, 
 Lewis, Philip, and all the nobles of France. 
 John of France, mounted on a large white 
 courser, quickly spied the English camp, 
 and suddenly commanding a halt, with a 
 loud voice, thus harangued his immense 
 multitudes : 
 
 " Sirs, when * you are at Paris, Chartres, 
 
 or 
 
 » CoUins's Life of the Black Pi ince. Froissart.
 
 19^ E D G A R. 
 
 or elsewhere, then you terribly threaten 
 these Britons, and wish nothing more than 
 to be in arms against them. Now shall 
 your desire be granted ; I will lead you 
 where you shall surely find them j let me 
 now, therefore, see the effects of that ill- 
 will you bear them, and how well you can 
 revenge all the displeasures and damages 
 which they have done you, for without 
 doubt, we shall not part without blows." 
 Quickly, the numbers that could hear, re- 
 phed, '' Sir, in God's name be it so : we 
 desire nothing else, and would gladly see 
 our enemies."—" 'Tis well," cried John ; 
 " but what says my Lord Eustace, how 
 looks the English army ?" Then the knight 
 replied, " Sir, we have viewed the English- 
 men, and by our estimation, they are not 
 above two thousand men of arms, four 
 thousand archers, and one thousand five 
 hundred others ; howbeit, they are en- 
 camped in a strong place ; and, as far as I 
 may guess, they make up but one battail ; 
 but yet are they very wisely ordered, and 
 along by the way have they strongly for- 
 tified the hedges and bushes 5 a party of 
 
 their
 
 BOOK VII. 19s 
 
 tlieii' archers lining the hedges, so that no 
 one can go or ride that way, but he must 
 lie open to their aim on the flank ; and yet 
 that way must we go, if we would attack 
 them. Into this lane there is but one 
 passage, whereat, as we judge, about four 
 horsemen may ride abreast ; and at the end 
 of this hedged lane, where no man may 
 pass on foot or horseback, stands a square 
 battail of men of arms, all on foot, the 
 archers before them in the manner of an 
 herse, so that easily they cannot be dis- 
 comfited." * 
 
 King John listened ; and as his knight 
 ceased, said, " And what then do you ad- 
 vise as best for us to do ?" The Lord 
 Eustace declared his opinion, and again 
 the vast army prepared for the assault. 
 
 But on a sudden, the French King was 
 stopped ; one of the high ministers of re- 
 ligion fell before him and craved a hearing. 
 " Sir,*' cried he,* *' you have here all the 
 flower of your realm against a handful of 
 Enghshmen, if we compare their number 
 
 VOL. I. K to 
 
 * Collins.
 
 194^ E D G A R. 
 
 to yours •, and surely if you can get them 
 to yield to your offers, it will be more pro- 
 fitable by far, and nothing less honourable 
 to conquer them so cheaply than to hazard 
 so flourishing an army as is here present. 
 Wherefore, Sir, most humbly and in the 
 name of God, I require you, that you 
 grant me time, before you go forward, to 
 ride yonder to the Prince, and shew him at 
 what disadvantage you have him." — "I 
 am content that you do so," replied the 
 King, *' on condition you make a quick 
 return." 
 
 Immediately the legate mounted his steed 
 and gall opped to the Prince of Wales, who 
 stood in the midst of his warriours, armed 
 at all points but his helmet. Edward re- 
 ceived the high messenger with courtesy, 
 and listened with gracious attention to 
 his words, to which he made answer, 
 " Father, the honour of me and my 
 country saved, I would willingly admit of 
 any reasonable condition." — ** Sir, you say 
 V^ell," answered the legate, *' it would be a 
 pity if so many noble and gallant spirits as 
 are now in the field, should be suffered to 
 
 join
 
 BOOK vn. 195 
 
 joiii in battle.*' Full of hope, the legate 
 returned to King John. " Sir," said he, 
 " the Fiance is not disinclined to peace — 
 he is generous and would spare his people's 
 blood ; but the conditions must be nobl^e." 
 
 Insolent in his strength and proud, the 
 French King stood elate, and forgot the 
 turns of fortune. " Tell the son of the 
 King of England," cried he, " that he and 
 a hundred of his knights shall yield them- 
 selves prisoners of war ; otherwise I will 
 use the vast power I have over them to 
 their utter destruction." 
 
 The ignominious words were laid before 
 the most vaHant and noble of princes. A 
 smile rose on his majestic features — he 
 paused for a moment with indignation, and 
 then calmly said : 
 
 *« Father, my hope is to conquer y but 
 if not, I can die 5 but never shall the ho- 
 nour of Edward be impeached,* honour 
 that he values far beyond life. As for the 
 conditions, let them be ever so secure 
 and advantageous, should they cast but a 
 K 2 breath 
 
 ♦ CplJins.
 
 196 EDGAR. 
 
 breath of disgrace on mine own honour, 
 my father's, or that of the Enghsh nation, 
 I would reject them, utterly reject them, 
 as infamous and worse than ten thousand 
 deaths." Upon this, the legate rode away, 
 and presently returned, and addressing the 
 Black Prince, said, " Sir, look to your- 
 self as well as you may, for there is nothing 
 to be expected but battle ; I can find no 
 sign of a tractable mind in the French 
 King.'' The Prince to this replied, '' It is 
 the resolution of us, and of all our people, 
 to abide him ; and God defend the right." 
 Then the legate cried, ** Amen !" — blessed 
 the noble Edward, and rode away. 
 
 The Prince of Wales instantly mounted 
 his steed, and rode through every rank of 
 his brave army; then he moved to the 
 centre, and with the fire of his exalted mind 
 thus addressed his beloved people : — 
 
 " My valiant friends, listen to the son of 
 your King — of that King whose heart beats 
 to every turn of our fortune. What, though 
 we b^ an inconsiderable company in respect 
 of oi^r enemies, yet let us not for that be 
 abased j since victory consisteth not in the 
 
 multitude
 
 BOOK VII, 197 
 
 multitude of people, but in the hands of 
 God Almighty, to bestow it after his good 
 pleasure. If it please him that the day be 
 ours, we shall be the most honoured and 
 renowned people in the world ; and if the 
 worst happen^ that we die in our just quar- 
 rel, it is but paying a debt we all owe to 
 Nature something sooner, but much more 
 honourably. And I have the King my 
 father, and brethren, and you have also 
 vahant friends, relations, and countrymen, 
 left behind ; these will sufficiently revenge 
 our blood : wherefore, Sirs, for God^s sake, 
 I require you all to be of good courage, 
 and to do your devoirs heartily ; for, if it 
 please God, you shall see me this day to 
 perform the part of a good knight, and to 
 play the man ; for surely England * shall 
 never pay for my ransom — I will either die 
 or conquer 1" 
 
 The shouts that burst around this heroic 
 Prince for a while stopped his words ; re- 
 peatedly he bowed, as a smile of grandeur, 
 modest confidence, hope, and patriotism, 
 K 3 beamed 
 
 * C(. .lias..
 
 198 E B G A R. 
 
 beamed on his countenance ; but, at length,. 
 there was a pause, and he continued. 
 
 ** I have, indeed, my friends^ had strong 
 experience of your several courages and 
 conduct in many imminent hazards of war 5 
 and I have glory in acknowledging you, 
 O Gentlemen of England, in nothing to 
 have degenerated from the noblest of your 
 ancestors : and you, our dear friends of 
 Gascoigne, to be as worthily descended from 
 those your valiant and loyal fathers, who 
 have heretofore truly and gallantly served 
 the King my father, and his predecessors, 
 in that his ancient dukedom. I see the 
 marks of generous indignation in your vi- 
 sage ; I see how highly you resent the 
 affront, that a King of France dares to 
 despise that valour to which, as yet, no 
 labour ever seemed painful, no army invin- 
 cible, no hill inaccessible, no tow^er impreg- 
 nable, no human power formidable.-'^ I see 
 in your faces, my Lords and Gentlemen, 
 the perfect resemblance of those undaunted 
 fathers whose courage hath frequently foiled 
 
 these 
 
 * Collins.
 
 BOOK vri. 199 
 
 these haughty Frenchmen ; hath won the 
 isle of Cyprus ; hath tamed the Syracusians, 
 Calabrians, Saracens, Palestinians ; and 
 hath taught Scotland to receive our yoke, 
 and Ireland to grow mild and friendly, and 
 Wales to accept of our laws. Wherefore, 
 follow your standards with resolution, and 
 obey your chief leaders both with mind and 
 body ; that if victory come with life, we 
 may still continue in firm and mutual 
 friendship ; but if envious fortune, which 
 Heaven forbid 1 should allot that this day 
 we run the race of all flesh, and that we end 
 to-day both life and labour, assure your- 
 selves that our names shall be preserved to 
 everlasting renown." Thus spoke the great 
 Duke of Aquitain, and then ordered his 
 array. On one side the Earl of Warwick, 
 and the nobles and men at arms ; beyond 
 him the Earls of Salisbury and Suffolk, and 
 at the head of the main body the Prince 
 himself. 
 
 Now the innumerable shoals of French 
 begin their arcliery ; which is hotly re- 
 turned upon them by the men of England, 
 Arrows whirled in the air as the dust, which 
 K^ is
 
 ^00 EDGAR. 
 
 is poked for a moment in the hurricane's 
 top, and then clouds as it precipitates. 
 The horse of the enemy, assailed from 
 every point, fall back over their lords, and 
 open the confusion. A few Engh'sh men 
 at arms dash forward, and broach close car- 
 
 nage. 
 
 Meantime, in front of the battail, with 
 his four esquires, fought the Lord James 
 Audley. Opposition &ank at his approach, 
 and even the most valiant of the foe startled, 
 and stopped to give wonder breath. But 
 now the Earls of Warwick, Salisbury, and 
 Suffolk, tear down another quarter, with 
 sword, spear, and battle axe ; and the ene- 
 my's second battail, in dismay, falls back 
 upon their commander, the Duke of Nor- 
 mandy. Hotter than ever waxed the strife, 
 thick fly the arrows from every side, whilst 
 proud England's banner waved high over 
 the enemy's ground. 
 
 '* Now is the moment !" thundered the 
 Lord Chandos to his Prince, from whose 
 side he had never moved. " Now, my 
 Lord,* the enemy's van is wholly discom- 
 
 fitteda 
 
 * Colljnr,
 
 "book vn. 201 
 
 fitted, the main body begins to break 1 — 
 Now take your horse and ride forth upon 
 the Frencli ; the day is your's ; God is now 
 on your hand. Let us march directly ta 
 the French King's battail, for there is all 
 the stress of the matter : I verily believe 
 his high courage will not suffer him to flinch, 
 so that I doubt not we shall w^in him, pro- 
 vided he be well fought with." 
 
 The Prince mounted his steed, com- 
 manded his followers to do the like, and 
 said aloud — ** Let us go forth. You shall 
 not see me this day to forget mine honour. 
 Advance, Banner, in the name of God and 
 St. Georoce!" As the Prince commanded, 
 the standard-bearer moved on, and the 
 men, with a shout of triumph, closed round 
 their illustrious captain. 
 
 The battle roars fiercely over the glutted 
 ground, and howls forth its fury to the 
 Skies. Big clots of gore rise in congealed 
 pyramids, whilst mangled limbs dance in 
 the air, and light on the couching shield of 
 the living; quick are they thrown off 
 again, whilst the whizzing arrov/ flie^ for 
 K 5 fresh
 
 202 EDGAR. 
 
 fresh blood, the spear points" for other 
 sinews, the axe hurls for other marrow. 
 
 Charles flies. " Sir," cried the enemy 
 to King Jolm, " the Dauphin" is fled ; the 
 English hold the field."—*' Nay," replied 
 John, *' not whilst I live. Advance, my 
 friends, the day may yet be ours." 
 
 Two fresli bodies of armed men now 
 moved with quick pace towards the Prince 
 of Wales. " Courage, friends," cried Beau- 
 champ, " these few conquered, and the vic- 
 tory is ours. Look to yon point, my Lord 
 of Oxford ', Lord Atheling, see thou to the 
 royal standard of France ; my Prince and 
 we will see to these." Again began the 
 raging battle. The English quiver long 
 exhausted, the bodies thick scattered around 
 the brave conquerors supplied weapons that 
 dripped in the blood of the slain ; onward 
 they were hurled into the breasts of the 
 nobles of France, and as fast they levelled 
 the humbler enemy. Atheling bearing down 
 all in his way, rushed to the standard-bearer, 
 tore it from the staff and transfixed the 
 bearer. Now all is desperation. " Sir, 
 
 yield
 
 BOOK VII. 203 
 
 yield* your person," said Sir Dennis of 
 Morbeque to the French King. — " To whom 
 shall I yield ? And where is my cousin the 
 Prince of Wales ? If I might see him I 
 would speak with him." — ** Yield to me, 
 Sir," cried the brave Sir John de Pelham, 
 taking his belt;'^ " And to me, Sir," cried 
 Sir Roger de la Warr, receiving his sw^ord. 
 Others contended for the honour ; where- 
 fore John said, " Pray you, Sirs, contend 
 not thus about me, but conduct me and my 
 son Philip to my cousin the Prince j and 
 concern not yourselves who it was that took 
 me, for I am so great a lord as to be able 
 to enrich you all w^ho make any such pre- 
 tence." 
 
 All was over — the day closed — and Vic- 
 tory wreathed for England's brow a laurel 
 fov immortal wear. The Prince of Wales 
 ordered a retreat to be sounded, and plant- 
 ed the standard high on a bush, and then, 
 hearing of the approach of the royal cap- 
 tives, prepared to meet them. 
 
 But now shone forth in all its matchless 
 
 grandeur, the virtue of this heroic Prince. 
 
 K 6 With 
 
 ♦ Collins.
 
 gOI< EDGAR. 
 
 With the noblest respect he receiv'ed from 
 the hands of the Lords of Cobham and 
 Warwick the captive king, assured him of 
 treatment according to his high dignity, 
 and gave him comfort with like examples 
 in war. He commanded spices and re- 
 freshment, and himself attended upon him 
 with profound humility. And soon, when 
 a magnificent treat was prepared in his own 
 pavilion, he obliged the King to take his 
 own chair of state at the upper end, refus- 
 ing to be seated himself, and vv^aiting during 
 the w^hole repast. By the most respectful 
 carriage he sought to cheer the royal cap- 
 tive ; but when he discovered that his 
 noble efforts succeeded not, he thus ad- 
 dressed him : 
 
 " Sir, there is no cause that you who 
 are the most brave and valiant among 
 christian kings, should continue thus pen- 
 sive and troubled : although at this time 
 your arms have not been favoured by him, 
 in whose dispose all battles are. For still 
 your generosity is acknov/ledged, your 
 dignity preserved, and your majesty held 
 sacred, and whatsoever else was truly 
 
 your's
 
 BOOK VIL . 205 
 
 yoin's remaineth still entire, neither to be 
 violated, nor impaired by time or any other 
 force. God Almighty hath ordained, that 
 as all other things, so the fortune of war 
 should remain in His hands alone. Your 
 progenitors have achieved many glorious 
 enterprizes, as well by sea as land : the 
 whole compass of Europe, all the east, all 
 realms and countries, both far and near, 
 are filled wuth the trophies and victories of 
 France. 
 
 " Perhaps, among so many and innu- 
 merable as have been your triumphs, one 
 or two battles have succeeded a little other- 
 wise than you w^ould : the usual instability 
 of fortune would have it so, which some- 
 times baffles the force of multitudes, and 
 conquers the opposition of men, horse, 
 and armour. But it lies in the power of 
 your own magnanimity to harden your 
 soul against adversity, and to keep your 
 mind still un conquered. 
 
 " Nor shall this day detract any thing 
 from you or your's ; for as for my part, I 
 promise you, that this realm of France in 
 
 which
 
 ^06 EDGAR, 
 
 which we are, and which hath produced 
 and nourished many of my progenitors, 
 shall find me grateful to her, and mindful 
 of my original ; and towards your majesty 
 (if you will permit me to glory in that title) 
 a most humble and respectful kinsman. 
 
 ** There are many reasons to preserve 
 love and friendship betwixt you and my 
 father, which I hope will be not a little 
 prevalent : for I well know the most inti- 
 mate thoughts and affections of his mind ; 
 and that you will easily come to a reason- 
 able agreement with him. And, as for 
 me, may he then refuse to own me for his 
 son, v/hen I cease to hold you in the same 
 degree of reverence, honour, and respect, 
 which I owe unto his own person.'** 
 
 At this unparalleled grandeur of soul in 
 so young a prince, and a conqueror, the 
 French lords gazed upon each other with 
 admiration ; they whispered loud enough 
 for hearing, " nobly in truth hath he spo- 
 ken, t and surely shall this prove a most 
 accomplished prince, if God grant him 
 life and well-being.'* 
 
 But 
 
 f CoJiins, t Froissart,
 
 BOOK VII. 507 
 
 But John of France, touched to the 
 heart with the Prince's generous words, 
 and in perceiving the respectful carriage of 
 his youthful conqueror, was roused to a 
 reply, and thus spoke : 
 
 " Though* it hath been our chance to 
 fall into an inconsolable sorrow, yet, for 
 all that, kind cousin, we think it becomes 
 us to smother our griefs, as much as w^e 
 may, since though by the law of arms and 
 the chance of war we be under the subjec- 
 tion of another, yet it is under so worthy 
 a prince as yourself, by whom to be van- 
 quished is no dishonour, especially since 
 we were not as faint-hearted cowards, ta- 
 ken in flight, or lying hid in a corner, but 
 in the open field, with sword in hand, 
 where we were as ready to die as to live in 
 defence of justice." 
 
 To this the Prince made answer : *« Sir, 
 methinks you for your part ought rather to 
 rejoice, though all things did not fall cut 
 according to your wish : for, this very day, 
 you have won the high renown of personal 
 valour, above all others that bore arms on 
 
 your 
 
 * Collins,
 
 208 EDGAR. 
 
 your side. Sir, I say not this to flatter 
 your sorrow, or to deride you ; for all the 
 captains on our side, that saw what every 
 one did, are unanimously agreed to grant 
 the chaplet of eminence unto your majes- 
 ty's person." 
 
 John then gave high and just praise ta 
 the English warriours — and was afterwards 
 silent, during the remainder of the ban- 
 quet. 
 
 The English knights, esquires, and men 
 at arms poured in from skirting, laden 
 with captives, gold, plate, jewels and tro* 
 phies, for the enemy had come to the field 
 in all their magnificence, making sure of 
 the day. Thousands of captives were per- 
 mitted to depart on their faith and troth, 
 to return to Bourdeaux between that period 
 and the festival of the Nativity, with the 
 ransom, which the generous victors made 
 easy, saying, ** they would not set too high 
 a price upon a knight or gentleman, but 
 that he might still be able to live after his 
 rank, and to follow the wars in an equipage 
 agreeable to his quality." 
 
 Meanwhile, Edgar Atheling, covered 
 
 with
 
 BOOK vir. 209 
 
 with glory, was seeking throughout the 
 camp for his friend. De Clifford, after 
 performing wondrous feats of valour, was 
 on a sudden lost. In vain did Atheling 
 enquire of his men, and of all who had 
 fought near him ; in the vast confusion 
 and uproar of the conquering and subdued, 
 none could declare when last the Lord de 
 Clifford had been seen. 
 
 Atheling lighted a torch, and paced the 
 field of battle. And now that silence 
 reigned, the dreadful spectacle filled his 
 breast with horror ; di.gusted and sick at 
 heart, he turned away, resolved again to 
 make search amono^ those that still assem- 
 bled from the skirts of the field. '^ As he 
 passed from tent to tent, he kindly encou- 
 raged the wounded, and himself aided the 
 dressins-s. Friends or foes were to him 
 alike when in need. Again he listened 
 with anxiety to every footstep, for de Clif- 
 ford lay not among the sufferers — but none 
 answered to the name — " oh, dreadful sus- 
 pence ! art thou not even more torturing 
 than the shocking worst !'' Again and 
 again Edgar broke from the spot whereon 
 
 he
 
 ^10 EDGAR. 
 
 he leaned his weaned limbs, and again 
 profound darkness drove him backward. 
 
 At length, morning beamed, and the 
 whole army united to return public thanks 
 to the Giver of Victories. Then the great 
 Prince harangued his noble warriors, and 
 made all hearts to overflow with joy and 
 gratitude in the high praise and munificent 
 rewards bestowed on the English valour 
 and fidelity. The trumpet sounded for the 
 heralds to advance, and take the number 
 and quality of the dead, and with these 
 also rushed the anxious Edgar. Slowly 
 they climbed over the piles of slain, col- 
 lecting as they went on, above an hundred'* 
 warlike ensigns, and cautiously turning the 
 shield and armour, where the features were 
 shattered or disordered. A noble figure, 
 half dismantled, of English proportion, 
 struck the appalled senses of Atheling ; 
 trembling he sank on his knee to raise the 
 corse, as it reclined on the face. " Surely," 
 murmured he, *« those dark locks— those 
 capacious shoulders are — yet, de Clifford, 
 thou wast of larger stature — oh, heaven ! . .'* 
 
 --he 
 
 * Collins,
 
 BOOK vir. 211 
 
 —he started back — " oh, heaven ! 'tis Al- 
 fred ! — oh, Alfred ! Alfred 1 dear, generous 
 youth ! — art thou — art thou, indeed, laid 
 low ?" Edgar lifled his cold hand, still 
 clenched on his spear, and pressing it to 
 his cheek, hid his flice, as the graceful tear 
 of feeling stole downward. " Art thou 
 really dead, my Alfred? and is the wound 
 at which thy noble spirit escaped, in thy 
 pure breast ? — Oh, Alfred ! shall I never 
 more embrace the companion of mine in- 
 fant days ? nor hear thee touch thy svi^eet 
 harp ? nor ever again hear the sweeter tone 
 of thy voice ? — and the dear maid that loves 
 thee so tenderly, how will she endure the loss 
 of her Alfred ? — and thy parents ! — Weep 
 now, poor beings, the pride of your days is 
 withered ! — and so young, so tender, so 
 innocent !" AtheUng, overcome by emo- 
 tion, bent still lower, w4iilst the speech 
 died away from his trembling lip. 
 
 Thus the glossy ivy, with modest confi- 
 dence, takes his station near the young 
 sapling, and clinging round him, they spread 
 and age together. Presently the ivy is torn , 
 with violence from the supporting bed, and 
 
 in
 
 ^12 E B G A R. 
 
 in the shock the noble tree is wounded in 
 the bark, languishes and droops : so lan- 
 guished Athehng for his faithful Alfred. 
 
 But soon he looks up to heaven. " We 
 were nearly of one age. Lord, what am I, 
 that I should be spared ? What have I 
 done, oh, my God ! that I breathe while 
 this one is a corse ? I am not stronger, 
 better I cannot be, than he was. I am 
 higher in rank, but art Thou a respecter of 
 persons ? then would not lie here in the 
 dust, all the proudest blood of France. Why 
 did not the savage spear rankle through my 
 vitals. Lord ? Why am I not prostrate, 
 and this youth lamenting over me as a 
 fallen flower ? God of Heaven, why did 
 the sharp arrow flutter round my head, and 
 then lean aside ? Why did the axe crush 
 other bones, and leave mine as they grev/ 
 from Thy creating finger ? Oh, my God ! 
 what angel didst thou send from the foot 
 of Thy throne to guard me in the midst 
 of dangers ? How shall I thank Thee ? — 
 How shall I speak ? — How can a worm give 
 honour to Thee, when by the breath of 
 Thy mouth whole armies are dispersed, 
 
 empireis
 
 BOOK VII. ^13 
 
 empires scattered, and worlds unstrung to 
 their foundations !" 
 
 Edgar remained kneeling some time lon- 
 ger, and then mournful rose, and beckon- 
 ing two esquires craved them to lift the 
 body on a target, and bear it to his tent, 
 previous to the funereal honours ; and then 
 sighing deeply, began again the dreadful 
 search. 
 
 " ^VTiom do you seek, my lord ?" said 
 respectfully a Cornish man at arms. ** The 
 Lord de Clifford," eagerly replied Atheling, 
 '' if ye know aught of him, speak, friend." 
 — " I did hear, my lord," repHed the man, 
 " that an English baron, pursuing the ene- 
 my at full speed, bore down even to the 
 very gates of Poictiers, and rushing for- 
 ward was wounded by a flying party in the 
 Dauphin's train." — " It must be — then 
 thank heaven ! he lives even now, I trust ; 
 I know his ardent soul," cried Atheling. 
 ** Friend, haste to the Lord of Warwick ; 
 tell him I go to enquire for de Clifford ; bid 
 him excuse me to my Prince." Then in 
 the eagerness of hope, fled Edgar to the 
 town, thoughtless of danger and of con- 
 sequences.
 
 ^14 EDGAR. 
 
 sequences. Friendship ! how beautiful 
 must thou be, when in thy strength, thou 
 forgettest the first law of nature, self-pre- 
 servation ! Edgar stood before the hostile 
 town, with no defence but his sword, and 
 alone. Yet so great was the terror of EngHsh 
 deeds, that although some few of the ene- 
 my passed, they heeded him not, intent 
 but on their own flight and safety. 
 
 At the gates he paused. " If I enter, 
 I am, it may be, a prisoner. What then ? 
 —I see de Chfford, who is v^^ounded — per- 
 haps dying - I lean over his pillow, I rest 
 his head on my breast, I soothe his pain — 
 or, if it must be, I take his last sigh ! — 
 Bondage welcome ! what care I for thee ?" 
 He thundered at the portal : hundreds, in 
 terror, looked from the ramparts : the 
 hinges slowly creak : he is admitted — seized 
 by armed men. " Hear me," cried Athe- 
 ling; " conduct me to your governor; I 
 am a baron of England." The men at 
 arms fell back on these words, and led the 
 way to the citadel. Edgar, with hasty 
 step, followed, and was shewn to the Mar- 
 shal
 
 BOOK vir. 215 
 
 shal of France. The English chief thus 
 addressed him : 
 
 ** I come, sir, to seek a friend. I am 
 told that a British noble lies wounded iu 
 Poictiers, and this noble is the man. If 
 friendship ever touched your breast, you 
 will command the doors to open at my ap- 
 proach, that I may lament with him, and 
 soothe his anguish ; but if generous pas- 
 sion ne'er throbbed your icy heart, then 
 I yield myself your prisoner ; let me be 
 conducted to my companion in misfortune, 
 I claim this as my right." 
 
 The governor, for a moment, stepped 
 aside, and then slowly returned, closing in 
 the apartment ; then he advanced to Edgar, 
 and pressed him in his arms. " Generous 
 chief!*' cried he, " dost thou not remem- 
 ber the Lord Chauvigny ? the man to whom 
 thou gavest thy steed, whose life thou hast " 
 preserved ?'* Edgar, amazed, returned the 
 embrace. " I do, sir," said he, " and I 
 rejoice that you had success." — " Ah ! sir," 
 returned the other, ** when my King is so 
 unfortunate, one has little reason to be 
 proud of life — but I owe you gratitude— 
 
 you
 
 2l6 E D G A It. 
 
 you shall see and embrace your friend ; 
 but prepare for the shock, he is senseless, 
 he raves. — See him, and be pleased after- 
 wards to return to me. I must now call 
 my people, in other terms, to conduct you, 
 that I may hush suspicion." 
 
 The Marshal flung open the door, and 
 calling the soldiers, " Here, friends, shew 
 this lord to the chamber of the wounded ; 
 he hath state reasons." Then Edgar fol- 
 lowed with a palpitating heart, and enter- 
 ing a small apartment, beheld de Clifford, 
 restrained on his couch by four persons. 
 For a moment, AtheHng gazed, and then 
 precipitated himself towards the couch. 
 *' Oh, my friend ! in what a state do I be- 
 hold thee ! de Clifford, speak to me, speak 
 to thine Edgar 1" 
 
 Suddenly the wounded paused ; the 
 loved tone of his friend stayed the dread- 
 ful imprecations he w^ould have uttered. 
 Edgar commanded him to be freed from 
 the hands that held him, and leaning over, 
 strained him to his breast. ** De Clifford, 
 surely my de Clifford knows me — he knows 
 Atheling, his friend, his companion ?" — 
 
 « Yes,"
 
 BOOK viir. ^217 
 
 « Yes," replied de Clifford, <* I did know 
 him, but his head is so bad." — " Is thine 
 bead so ill, loved de Qifford?" answered 
 Edgar, " and has no tender hand granted 
 thee one slip of linen, to shield the horrid 
 gap ? Oh, my friend, that I had been with 
 thee I that I had suffered instead of thee ! 
 Good people, give him some drink ^ behold 
 his parched lip — his inflamed eye. Is there 
 no skilful hand to probe this ghastly wound, 
 and give me hopes ? — De Clifford, wert thou 
 but near to English aid — cruel impetuosity 
 — thou hast undone him." 
 
 The sorrow of the young hero provoked 
 to sympathy, and he was speedily presented 
 with a large vase of water, which he ten- 
 derly pressed against the lip of his friend, 
 w^hilst he gently raised his injured head. 
 No sooner did the grateful beverage play 
 round the mouth, than de Clifford vora- 
 ciously swallowed the draughts, when, as 
 if .with new life, he submitted to be softly 
 replaced by Edgar, and calmly shutting the 
 lid, suffered him to pour upon the lacerated 
 scalp the clear stream ; which, when done, 
 the hero tore from his side, a large remnant 
 
 VOL. I. L of
 
 218 EDGAR. 
 
 of linen, and with soft touch, bound up the 
 temples. And now, the grateful work 
 finished, and nature revived, the sick man 
 fell into a repose. 
 
 Edgar, mindful of the Governor's words, 
 and holding up his finger in token of silence, 
 crept from the chamber and followed the 
 centinel. He again stood before the Mar- 
 shal, who thus spoke : " Young chieftain, 
 I see your anxiety ; I know what my grati- 
 tude should dictate — that you should both 
 be freed. You, sir, shall receive your steed 
 from me, and shall depart ; but the Lord 
 de Clifford's release is beyond my means — 
 his captivity is already known to the people, 
 and my life, my honour are security for 
 this English baron. Fly, sir, yourself— in 
 six hours it will be too late." 
 
 The fine stature of Edgar expanded as 
 he replied : " Little know you, sir, British 
 fidelity, if thus lightly you can bid me 
 desert my friend in his anguish— in his pe- 
 ril — in his extremity. Never ; my lord, I 
 am your captive." 
 
 The Marshal bent his head distressed — 
 but quickly turning to Edgar, ** Generous 
 
 chief!
 
 BOOK viir. 219 
 
 chief ! how far will gratitude lead me ! — 
 I will befriend you, Sir j hearken ; yet ; 
 1 hesitate — -your friend might be conveyed 
 from Poictiers — he may recover — yet he is 
 near death, and as a corse he might be 
 conducted away, if — you would yourself 
 venture to declare he was actually dead, to 
 
 my people and the guards — the '* 
 
 " Hold ! my lord," cried Athehng, " I 
 respect your motive, but I have a father — 
 a father who if he knew the lip of his son 
 to be sullied by a falsehood, would sink 
 into the earth with infamy. My lord, ac- 
 cept my thanks ; I am your prisoner, and 
 surely 'tis not so hard a fate as to be past 
 endurance." 
 
 Stung to the soul, tb ^veteran could make 
 no reply. " Please yourself, my lord," at 
 length he proudly answered. Edgar flung 
 himself at his feet : '* Pardon me, com- 
 passionate chief, if I have failed in my 
 thanks," he cried. ** You may still save 
 my friend and with honour. Your word 
 is passed to me for safety. I am therefore 
 free. Now, my lord, is not a foe vigor- 
 ous and healthy, more dangerous than one 
 L £ who
 
 2^0 EDGAR. 
 
 who is deeply wounded, whose life hangs 
 upon a doubt ? Surely. Exchange us 
 then, my lord ; I myself will reply to your 
 court, and be the peril of the event upon 
 my own head. Let the wounded be con- 
 veyed on a litter with a herald, to the Eng- 
 lish camp, where he may have assistance 
 imd kind care : I will remain in his place 5 
 grant me but an escort, and I will set out 
 for Paris, and deliver myself to the Dau- 
 phin." 
 
 "Proud country! Superb England!'* 
 exclaimed the astonished Marshal, " whence 
 do you derive this grandeur of soul and 
 sentiment? Are ye, great Britons, an an- 
 cient migration from the shores of Epami- 
 nondas? or is your wondrous virtue in- 
 herent to your soil ? Young man, do with 
 me as you will, it were vain to oppose 
 generosity when she puts on the garb of 
 friendship!" Edgar, transported, embraced 
 his knees, and fearful of delay, again press- 
 ed the execution. Immediately were the 
 orders given for the litter to be prepared, 
 and as de Clifford still dosed, Atheling 
 gently assisted in sliding him upon it ; then 
 
 touching
 
 BOOK VIII. 221 
 
 touching his hand said, " heaven bless thee, 
 my friend ; now may I hope ; now will Ed- 
 gar be consoled, for of nought shalt thou 
 stand in need ; and if thy spirit quit this 
 earth, how will it smile on me hereafter ! 
 Yet, forsake me not, de Clifford, but live 
 to bless me again in thy presence !" And 
 now the precious burden moved from his 
 sight ; the gates of Poictiers opened — closed 
 again — Edgar started — put his hand to his 
 throbbing temple, followed the guards, and 
 entered the apartment that de Clifford had 
 just quitted. 
 
 L 3 NOTES,
 
 222 EDGAK. 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 Note 1.] — Restormal castle, about a mile west of 
 the town of Lestwithiel and afew miles from Launceston. 
 This castle stands not on a factitious hill, for the ar- 
 chitect finding a rocky knoll on the edge of a hill over- 
 looking a deep valley, had no mare to do, than to 
 plane the rock into a levels and shape it round by a 
 ditch^ Slc. The Keep * is a very magnificent one ; 
 the outer wall or rampart is an exact circle, a hundred 
 and ten feet diameter within, and ten fe«t wide at the 
 top, including the thickness of the parapet which is 
 two feet six, &c. There are three stair-cases leading 
 to the top of the rampart^ one on each side of the gate- 
 way ascending from the court within, and one betwixt 
 the inner and outermost gate. The rooms are nineteen 
 feet wide ; the windows mostly in the innermost wall ', 
 but there are some very large openings in the outmost 
 wall or rampart, now walled up, shaped like gothic 
 church windows, sharp arched, which were formerly 
 very handsome and pleasant windows, their recesses 
 reaching to the planching of the rooms : These large 
 openings were all on the chamber floor where the rooms 
 of state seem to have been, and from the floor of these 
 chambers you pass on a level to the chapel. This 
 chapel is but 25 feet 6, by 17 feet 6 j but that it might 
 have been more commodious, there seems to have been 
 an anti-chapel. This chapel, as Leland well observes, 
 is a newer work than the castle itself 3 and 1 may add 
 that the gateway and large windows in the rampart 
 wall are also more modern than the Keep, for tliey 
 were not made for war and safety, but for pleasure and 
 .grandeur 3 and yet, as modern as these things compared 
 with the rest may appear, they must be at least as an- 
 tient as Edmund, son of Richard King of the Romans, 
 (temp. Ed. I.) This prince kept his court here, and 
 in all probability made these additions (temp. Hen. III.). 
 The oflices belonging to this castle lay below in the 
 
 bass- 
 
 * A Keep is a buil(iing elevated above the rest, by a hillock (or 
 Tumulus) for the most part artificially raised, — (Dr. Borlase, 
 p. 350.)
 
 NOTES. 223 
 
 bass-court, where signs of many ruins to the north and 
 east, are still apparent, and with the ruins on either 
 hand as you come towards the great gate from the 
 west, shew that this castle was of great extent j the 
 noble Keep still holds up the shell of its turreted head." 
 
 The following lamentation by Mr. Carew, p. 138, is 
 upon Restormal castle. '* It may move compassion 
 that a palace so healthful for air, so delightful for pros- 
 pect, so necessary for commodities, so fair in regard of 
 those days for building, and so strong for defence, 
 should in time of secure peace, and under the protec- 
 tion of its natural princes, be wronged with those spoil- 
 ing, than which it could endure no greater at the 
 hands of any foreign and deadly enemy ; for the park 
 is disparked j the timber wood rooted up, the conduit 
 pipes taken away, &c. &c. &c." 
 
 There was a park round it well wooded, and suitable 
 to the quality of the ancient owners, but with sieveral 
 other parks in this county (there having been formerly 
 belonging to this Earldom nine parks, and one chase 
 or forest) disparked by Hen. VIII. at the instance of 
 Sir Richard Pollard. — {Dr, Borlase, Antiq. p. 356. — 
 Cornwall) 
 
 Note 2.] — Dante seems to be the first author who 
 hath introduced the mention of an orologio, which struck 
 the hour (and consequently cannot be a dial), in his Pa- 
 radiso, c. 10. 
 
 Now Dante was born in 1265, and died in 1321, 
 aged 57 ; therefore, striking clocks could not have been 
 very uncommon in Italy at the latter end of the 13th 
 century, or the very beginning of the 14th. 
 
 But the use of clocks was not confined to Italy at 
 this period ; for we had one of these artists in England 
 precisely about the same time, who furnished the fa- 
 mous clock-house near Westminster-hall, with a clock 
 to be heard by the courts of law, out of a fine i'n- 
 posed on the Chief-Justice of the King's Bench in the 
 16th year of Edward I. or A. D. 1288. 
 
 Mr. Norris, Secretary of the Society of Antiquaries, 
 bath been likewise so obliging as to refer me to an in- 
 stance of a very ancient clock in the same century. 
 
 I shall now produce a proof, that not only clocks but 
 I. 4 watches
 
 224- EDGAR. 
 
 watches were made in the beginning of the I4th cen- 
 tury. 
 
 Seven or eight years ago, sorae labourers were em- 
 ployed at Bruce castle in Fifeshire, where they found a 
 watch, together witli some coin ; both of which they 
 disposed of to a shopkeeper of St. Andrews^ who sent 
 the watch to his brother in London, considering it as a 
 curious piece of antiquity. The outer case is of silver, 
 raised, in rather a handsome pattern, over a ground of 
 blue enamel ; and I think I can distinguish a cypher of 
 R. B. at each corner of the enchased work. On the 
 dial-plate is written Robertus B. Rex Scottorum, and 
 over it is a convex transparent horn, instead of the 
 glasses which we use at present. 
 
 Now Robertus B. Rex Scottorum can be no other 
 king of Scotland than Robert Bruce, who began his 
 reign in 1305, and died in 1328 5 for the Christian 
 name of Baliol, who succeeded him, was Edward j nor 
 can Rdbertus B. be applied to any later Scottish king. 
 
 This very singular watch is not of a larger size than 
 those which are now in common use j at which I was 
 much surprised till I had seen several ot the 16th cen- 
 tury in the collection of Sir Ashton Lever, and Mr. 
 Ingham Forster, which were considerably smaller.— 
 The next mention I find of horologia, is in Rymer's 
 Foedera, where there is a prjatection of Edward IIL, 
 A. D. 1368, to three Dutchmen who were orlogiers, — 
 (Hon. Daines Barrington's Observations on the early In- 
 troduction of Clocks.— 'j4rch<Eologia, vol. v.) 
 
 Chaucer, who lived in the l4th century, says^ 
 
 Full silkerer was his crowing in his loge. 
 As is a clocks or any abbey orloge. 
 
 Note 3.]— In the thirteenth century we read that 
 the two chief meals were dinner and supper. The first 
 was at nine in the morning, the supper at five in the 
 afternoon. . At the repasts, the Britons had long been 
 accustomed to display great luxury and magnificence, 
 and their side-tables were highly ornamented, and co- 
 vered with various fermented liquors, as mead, ale, beer 
 and above all fine rich wines of English growth.— '(^5ee 
 Dr, Henry's England.) 
 
 Note
 
 NOTES. ^2^ 
 
 Note 4.]— Hospitality; — An almost unlimited hos- 
 pitality reigned in the palaces of princes, and the cas- 
 tles of great barons. The courts of socne of the kings 
 of England in this period (Anglo-Norman) are said to 
 have been splendid and numerous to a degree that is 
 hardly credible. That of Richard II. is thus described 
 by an historian of the greatest integrity : ^' His royalty 
 was such, that wheresoever he lay, his person was 
 guarded by two hundred Cheshire men ; he had about 
 him thirteen bishops, besides barons, knights, esquires, 
 &c. insomuch, that to the household came every day to 
 meat 10,000 people, as appeared by the messes told out 
 of the kitchen to three hundred servitors." We may 
 form some idea of the magnificence and hospitality of 
 the opulent and powerful barons of their times from an 
 account of the immense (household) expences of Tho- 
 mas Earl of Lancaster, A. D. 1313. It there appears 
 that this great Earl spent as much in one year as 
 .£109,635 of our money at present. Other earls and 
 barons, in general, spent almost all their revenues, 
 and the produce of their large domains, in hospitality at 
 their castles in the country, which were ever open to 
 strangers of condition, as well as to their own vasals^ 
 friends, and followers. 
 
 When the marriage of Richard Earl of Cornwall, 
 and Cincia daughter of Reimund Earl of Provence, was 
 celebrated in London, A. D. 1243, there were above 
 thirty thousand dishes served up at the marriage 
 dinner. — {Henrifs England, pp. 5/3 — 594.) 
 
 The hospitality of English chiefs, from the earliest 
 times, has been always a pleasing theme for writers. 
 That the immense halls were built to accommodate vast 
 numbers of guests of all ranks, we shall presently 
 prove, if proof be wanting. Dr. Borlase in his Anti- 
 quities of Cornwall says, " that the oven of Restormai 
 castle, in the ruins of the bass court, was fourteen feet 
 wide ; which, as he adds from his authority, may serv* 
 to give us some idea of the hospitality of the times.'* 
 (p 357.) And in Mr. King's sequel to the observations 
 on antient castles, Archseologia, vol. 6, we read, *' It ap- 
 pears (from a record extant in the office of Arms) that 
 even the last king mentioned (Henry VII.) most com- 
 monly dined himself in the great hall, where his offi- 
 L 5 cers
 
 226 EDGAR. 
 
 cers had their respective tables, from whence it fairly 
 may be inferred, that his predecessors did the same. 
 A small window at the upper end originally looked out 
 of some principal apartment into this (E/^/mwi; hall j a 
 window similar to which (in imitation of these royal 
 halls) existed in almost all the more private noble ones 
 for some centuries. In Ely House, in Holborn, just 
 before its being pulled down, it was discovered, that 
 behind the wainscot, and the hangings of the great 
 drawing-rooms (the same room identically that had al- 
 ways been a principal apartment of the house) there 
 "Was a large recess, like a bow- window, neatly wains- 
 cotted with oak, which led merely to a little window, 
 just of the same sort as that here described, looking 
 into the great hall directly over the table at the upper end. 
 
 **^ At Penshurst, in Kent, again, although the window 
 there^s now concealed, yet it is obvious there was ori- 
 ginally just such another in the very same situation 
 looking into the great hall from the great room above, 
 in that house, &c. 
 
 *^ These windows, we may therefore be assured, had 
 their peculiar use ; and that use seems to have been, 
 to give a constant view, from one of the state apart- 
 ments above, into the great hall, both, whilst the in- 
 ferior part of the guests were assembling, before the 
 lord of the mansion and persons of dignity went down 
 to the common repast ; and at other times occasionally, 
 when there was any concourse of people in that apart- 
 ment." 
 
 Note 5.] — ^The same gentleman continues, "we 
 find however, that in 1641, the custom of great per- 
 sonages dining constantly in the common hall (as Henry 
 VII. certainly did at Eltham) was somewhat dis- 
 used : for in a very curious memoir giving an account 
 of the manner in which the Earl of Worcester lived at 
 Ragland castle, before the civil wars, we are informed 
 that at eleven o'clock the castle gates were shut, and 
 the tables laid; two in the dining room, and three in 
 the hall. At the first table sat the noble family, and 
 such of the nobility as came there. At the second table 
 in the dining room or great chamber, sat knights. 
 At the iii'bt table^ in the hall^ sat gentlemen un- 
 der
 
 NOTES. 227 
 
 der the degree of knights. And at the second 
 table gentleman waiters and pages. Particular care 
 was taken to place the guests according to their rank. 
 In the middle of each table there stood a great salt- 
 seller ; and it was a mark of distinction whether a per- 
 son sat above or below the salt." 
 
 Note 6.] — The Troubadours were the ancient wan- 
 dering poets, supposed to originate in Provence, who 
 wrote, set, and sang their own verses. 
 
 There were at one time a great number of these 
 bards, among whom were reckoned several princes and 
 nobles. Richard I. of England was esteemed of this 
 class. The Italian poets are said to have borrowed 
 their best pieces from the Troubadours ; and Pasquier 
 declares expressly, that Dante and Petrarch are, indeed, 
 the fountains of poetry — but fountains which have 
 their source in the Provencal poetry, Bouche, in his 
 history of Provence, relates, that about the middle of 
 the twelfth century, the Troubadours began to be es- 
 teemed throughout Europe ; and that their credit and 
 poetry were at the highest about the middle of the four- 
 teenth : so that they flourished in Europe about two 
 hundred and fifty years 3 viz. from 1120 till the year 
 \^S2.—{Vide Chambers' Cyc— Troubadour.) 
 
 Note 7.]— The trombe or trump was an ancient in- 
 strument of the trumpet kind, to which the Trouba- 
 dours generally sang their poems, and from the use of 
 this it is supposed tbe word Troubadour or Tromba- 
 dour is derived. — (See Chambers.) 
 
 Note 8.] — The University of Oxford, in time of 
 Henry HI. was the second in Christendom, from the 
 learning of its professors, the number of its students, 
 and the quality of its visitors or pilgrims, who came 
 from all parts of Europe, for profit or amusement.— 
 (See Speed, c. ix. p. 593, 618.) 
 
 The same historian says, in page 622, that there were 
 15,000 students, whose names were entered in the ma- 
 triculation book ; and that these students were chiefly 
 the sons of nobles and kindred of the great men of the land. 
 
 Heniy HI. built and endowed the Hospital of St. 
 
 John, in Oxford, expressly for the entertainment and 
 
 L 6 relief
 
 228 EDGAR. 
 
 relief of foreigners and pilgrims, who much frequented 
 the city.— (5pe<?d, p. 593.) 
 
 Alfred the Great is considered the founder, or, as 
 some declare, the restorer of the University of Oxford. 
 Certain it is, that he erected schools or halls, and as- 
 signed pensions to the students. Rapin, p. 95, men- 
 tions the number of four balls or schools ; the first for 
 divinity ; the second for grammar and rhetoric ; the 
 third for logic, arithmetic, and.music; the fourth for 
 geometry and astronomy. 
 
 The illustrious sister University of Cambridge, we 
 will just observe, was founded by Edward the Elder, 
 according to the opinion of some ; but in the year 1110, 
 in Henry I. we have authentic testimony of professors 
 being sent to Cambridge to teach the sciences j in a 
 year's time the audience so increased that no house was 
 large enough to contain them. — {Rapin, T.'s note, 
 p. 112) 
 
 The first college was founded in 1284 (Rapin); Mer- 
 ton College, at Oxford, was about this time founded and 
 finished after so excellent a manner that the King gave 
 leave to Hugh, Bishop of Ely, to found Peter-House (the 
 ancientest place of learning in Cambridge), after the 
 same model and manner.— {Wood's Antiq. Oxford, p. 4.) 
 
 Note 9.] — The family of de Lusignan held the 
 kingdom of Cyprus during several generations of 
 Richard I, of England, who conquered it, and mar- 
 ried the Princess Berengaria. The King of Cyprus 
 actually visited England during Edward Ill's reign, and 
 remained some time there. — [S peed -^ Collins' s Life of 
 the Black Prince — Rapin.) 
 
 Note 10.— Robert Lord Clifford, Baron of West- 
 moreland, was thirteen years and six months old at the 
 death of his father, and consequently, was ward to the 
 King seven years and six months. Notwithstanding 
 his being so young, he was married, before his father's 
 death, to Euphemia, one of the daughters of Ralph de 
 Nevill, Lord of Middleham Castle, in Yorkshire, He 
 served King Edward III. in his wars with France, and 
 was with the Black Prince in the battle of Crescy, 
 when he was but 16 years of age. The said King, 
 by his letters patent, granted to this Robert, for his good 
 
 and
 
 NOTES. 2^9 
 
 and laudable service, 121. \4s. 8|cf. of lands, which 
 were Christophec Seaton's, the King's enemy, in Cum- 
 befland. He died in France, as is supposed, about the 
 32d year of his age, without any issue. — {Burn's Anti- 
 quities of W^estmor eland and Cumberland, p. 279.) 
 
 Note 11.] — The hospitality of England was so great 
 that in the remote ages a chieftain even blushed to close 
 his door j he flew to meet a stranger of any rank, pre- 
 sented him water to wash, and waited to receive the 
 arms of his guest; which, if they were presented, was 
 a sign that the stranger would pass the night under his 
 roof, and this was ever considered a mark of respect 
 and honour. — (Dr. Henry's England.) 
 
 Note 12.] — Thomas Beauchamp, Earl of Warwick^ 
 Governor of Tamworth-castle, SheriflFcf Warwick and 
 Worcester, Governor of Guernsey, Earl Marshal and 
 Lord High Admiral of England, and Knight of the 
 most noble Order of the Garter. This Earl fought in 
 all the King's battles by sea and land, and was highly 
 beloved both by Edward HI. and his son the Black 
 Prince. The illustrious family of Beauchamp is said 
 to have been transplanted hither from Normandy at the 
 conquest. One of the first of this race mentioned iu 
 our histories is Hugh de Beauchamp, who received 
 from Duke William after he subdued this kingdom, 
 , lands of great extent. — {Biog. Brit, vide Beauchamp.) 
 
 Note 13.] — John de Pelham, knighted by Edward 
 in. was the person who first laid hold of the French 
 King's belt when he surrendered at the battle of Poic- 
 tiers, notwithstanding the assertions of the French 
 writers, who give the honour to a native of France ; for, 
 in memory of this service, and that of Sir Roger de la 
 Warr, who got the royal captive's sword, the descend- 
 ants of Sir John de Pelham constantly used the buckles 
 of a belt as a badge, and in their seals ; and the de- 
 scendants of Sir Roger de la Warr had also the crampet 
 or champe of a sword for a badge, from whom the present 
 Lord de la Warr is maternally descended ; and from the 
 said Sir John de Pelham, his Grace the Duke of New- 
 castle, is lineally descended in the male line ; and, as 
 his ancestors from that time have bortie the buckles of 
 a belt, sometimes as a crest and in their seals, his Grace 
 
 con-
 
 gSO EDGAR. 
 
 continues it to this day: all which is evident from the 
 old deeds of his Grace's family, which I had the honour 
 to peruse. It is also a further proof of his being in the 
 battle of Poictiers, and that he was a person of emi- 
 nence and integrity, for that John de Vere, Earl of Ox- 
 ford, who so greatly distinguished himself there, had 
 such an esteem for him, that by his last will and testa- 
 ment, dated at Bentley in Essex, on Friday, the Feast 
 of All Saints, ?3 Ed. constituted him one of his execu- 
 tors. Likewise, for his prudence, valour, and fidelity, 
 John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, appointed him to 
 attend him in his wars, as his esquire. — {Collins" s Life 
 of the BlacJt Prince, p, 90, 91.) 
 
 Note 14.] — Edward IIL finding it necessary to ap- 
 point a governor to protect his inheritance of Aquitain 
 from the ravages of the French, constituted, in the year 
 ]355, his son the Prince of Wales, his lieutenant in the 
 dukedom of Aquitain, and other places in France, 
 %yhither he should happen to march ; both for the re- 
 formation of the state of the dukedom and other places 
 in France, and the recovery of his lands and his right, 
 possessed by the rebels. And by another commission 
 of the same date, he gave him power to make alliances 
 with all persons of what nation, dignity, or condition 
 soever j as also to letain men, and pay them wages and 
 rewards. A third commission gave him power (in the 
 King's stead and name) to receive homage and fidelity 
 from the nobility and others within the said dukedom 
 and realm of France. — {Collinses Life of the Black 
 Prince, p. 43, 44.) 
 
 Notes 15 and 16 ] — After the battle of Crescy, Ed- 
 ward, with his victorious army, marched to Calais, laid 
 siege to it eleven months, and at last, by means of re- 
 ducing the inhabitants to famine, took the place ; and 
 so exasperated was he by the delay, that he required 
 six citizens to deliver themselves up as sacrifices for the 
 rest of the inhabitants. Six victims, accordingly, with 
 noble zeal, came forward, and would have suffered but 
 for the entreaties of thie generous Queen Philippa. 
 Edward, after this, established his troops in Calais, and 
 appointed a governor; when ambassadors of both 
 realms having concluded a solemn truce of some months, 
 be and his Queen departed for England. 
 
 Edward
 
 NOTES. 231 
 
 Ethrard bad not long been settled in the English 
 court when he privately heard that the French had trea- 
 cherously endeavoured to corrupt the governor. Sir 
 Emeric of Pavia (a Lombard), for twenty thousand 
 crowns of gold, lo deliver up the castle. Edward im- 
 mediately sent for the governor to come to him 3 and, 
 when he saw him, took him into his closet and said — 
 *' You know well, sir, that I have entrusted to your 
 charge that thing which, in this world, I love best, next 
 to my wife and children ; that is to say, the castle of 
 Calais, whereby the town also is commanded, and yet 
 this castle have you traiterously sold to the French : 
 wherefore, what can you say now why you should not 
 suffer a shameful death r" Then the Lombard fell on 
 his knees and said — "^ Ah, my gracious master ! 1 hum- 
 bly crave your mercy. WTiat you say I acknowledge 
 is all true 3 but, sire, the bargain may be easily broken, 
 for, as yet, I have not received one penny of the mo- 
 ney." The King, who long had a favour for him, 
 thinking he might be of use in frustrating the design, 
 said, " Emeric, I give you your life, and continue you 
 in your office in trust of your amendment 3 and I would 
 also have you go on with your bargain, and get as much 
 money of my enemies as you can 3 but let me have true 
 information of the day and hour appointed for the de- 
 livery of the castle ; and let no soul know of this one 
 communication 3 and on this condition I forgive you 
 your trespass." According to this agreement the Lom- 
 bard returned to Calais, resolving to be true to so in- 
 dulgent a master, and to put a trick upon those who 
 had thus attempted to debauch his loyalty. 
 
 The time of the delivery of the castle of Calais was 
 fixed on the last night of December 3 of which the 
 Lombard, by a brother of his, sent notice to King Ed- 
 ward, who was then at Havering at the Bower in Essex, 
 keeping bis Christmas. Whereupon he chose privately 
 a select body of eight thousand men of arms and one 
 thousand archers, and taking ship at Dover, arrived 
 that evening at Calais, so secretly that none but his 
 friends knew of it, and immediately disposed his men 
 in ambush in the dungeon, and other places in the 
 castle 3 and then told the Lord Walter Manny, he had 
 
 a mind
 
 ^32 EDGAR. 
 
 a mind to grace him with the honour of the enterprize, 
 for both he and his son the prince intended to fight 
 under his banner. 
 
 The Lord GeofFry Charney (on the side of the 
 French) had furnished himself with a thousand choice 
 men of arms, and others to the number of twenty thou- 
 sandj andj on the last day of December, came near Ca- 
 lais, about eight of the clock at night, and then halted 
 and set his men in order of battle. About twelve he sent 
 two equerries to the postern gate of the castle; who, 
 finding Sir Emeric ready there to receive them, de- 
 manded of him if it was time for the Lord Charney to 
 come ; and he said *' Yes, high time." On this answer, 
 returning to their master, he passed Newland bridge 
 in order of battle, and sent twelve knights, with an 
 hundred men of arms, to take possession of the castle; 
 also, by Sir Edward Renty, their commander, twenty 
 thousand crowns of gold, in a bag, for Sir Emeric j 
 who received it of him at the postern, saying — '* I hope 
 here is the full sum, though I am not at leisure to count 
 it nowj" and thereupon cast it into a chest, saying to 
 the French, " Come on, messieurs, you shall first seize 
 on the dungeon, and then you are sure to be masters of 
 the castle." On their approach he drew the bars aside 
 and opened the gate for their entrance. Within this 
 part of the tower was King Edward, with the Prince 
 his son, and two hundred men of arms, who at that in- 
 stant sallied out upon the French with their swords and 
 battle-axes, crying, *' A Manny, a Manny, to the res- 
 cue ! "WTiat, do the Frenchmen imagine with so few 
 men to take the castle of Calais ?" On which sudden 
 surprize, and seeing themselves out-numbered, they 
 yielded themselves prisoners of war, and were imme- 
 diately disarmed and carried to the same dungeon ; after 
 which, the King and Prince, with the English, mounted 
 on horseback, and issued out of the castle into the 
 town, to the gate that looked towards Boulogne. There 
 the Lord Charney stood, with his banner, desirous of 
 being the first that should enter ; and the King having 
 ordered the gate to be opened, he, with the Prince his 
 son, incognito, under the banner of the Lord Manny, 
 with the Lords Suffolk, Stafford,, Montague^ Beauchamp, 
 
 de la
 
 NOTES. 233 
 
 de la Ware, Berkeley, and Ross, with their men, issued 
 forth in order of battle, crying, " A Manny, a Manny^, 
 to the rescue!" The Lord Charney, with his men were, 
 on this, in some confusion, finding the Lombard had 
 betrayed them ; but, hke a wise and valiant general, 
 he said aloud — " Messieurs, if we turn our backs we 
 are lost without remedy ; 'tis more safe to expect our 
 enemies with a good courage, and then we shall obtain 
 the day." The front of the English hearing these words, 
 answered— ''^ By St. George, you say well ! A shame 
 ou them that turn their backs first." Then the French 
 lighting oflF their horses, prepared to fight on foot: 
 which King Edward seeing, he said to the Lord Man- 
 ny — ** Let us also get on foot, for the enemy, I see, 
 will expect us." 
 
 The battle began and continued with fury. Edward 
 and the Prince of Wales fought unknown among the 
 EngHsh, till at length the King, to give higher anima- 
 tion to his men, lifted his helmet and shewed himself, 
 saying— ^*^ Do well, you archers, play the men lustily, 
 and know that I am Edward of Windsor." 
 
 Thus fired by the words and example of their King, 
 as also by honour and necessity itself, they stripped up 
 their sleeves to their shoulders, to have the more liberty 
 for action, and that none of them might fail of due 
 execution. The King, as Walsingham writes, did 
 marvels, raging like a wild boar, and crying out for in- 
 dignation (as his usual manner was), " Ha, St. Ed- 
 ward ! Ha, St. George !" till, at last, the French were 
 put to flight. 
 
 The Lord Charney being grievously wounded, was 
 taken, as also his son, and the Lord Montmorency, and 
 several other knights very narrowly escaped : so that 
 almost the whole party which engaged, consisting of 
 three thousand men, were cut oflf or taken. 
 
 After this victory, which was so happily completed 
 on the first day of January, by ten in the morning. 
 King Edward returned, with the Prince, to the castle 
 of Calais ; and commanding all the prisoners to be 
 brought before him, he most courteously told them he 
 would that night give them all an entertainment in his 
 castle of Calais ; and then the French first knew the 
 
 King
 
 S34 EDGAR. 
 
 King iiad been personally in this exploit^ though dis- 
 guised in common armour. The tables were spread in 
 the great hall against supper ; and a magnificent and 
 royal feast was provided, and the French were there, as 
 the King had ordered. They had all shifted themselves 
 and were richly clothed. The King sat at a table by 
 himself, at the upper end of the hall, the Prince his son, 
 and the lords and knights of England serving at the 
 first course, but at the second they also sat down on 
 each side of the King ; the French lords and captains 
 being all at one long table in the middle of the hall. 
 After supper the King continued still in the hall among 
 his nobles, and the French having wine brought them, 
 he went to discourse with them. He had about his 
 head a rich chaplet of gold, beset with precious pearls ; 
 and when he came to the Lord Geffry Charney, he be- 
 held him with some signs of displeasure, and said — 
 *' Sir Geffrey, of right I should owe you but small 
 thanks, since you designed to steal from me in the dark 
 that which I so fairly won by day, and which cost me 
 so dearly. I am very well satisfied I took you in the 
 fact, for surely you thought to make a better bargain 
 when you attempted to purchase Calais for twenty 
 thousand crowns ^ but God Almighty hath in mercy 
 assisted me, and you have missed your aim." Both 
 shame and evil conscience did not suffer him to say a 
 word, or, his wounds being fresh, he was not disposed 
 to speak, so the King left him, and went to the Lord 
 Eustace de Ribemont (with whom he had fought hand 
 to hand, yet unknown), when he made a stand, and 
 with a friendly countenance, said to him — '^ Sir Eus- 
 tace, of all men living you are the knight whom I have 
 found most as well in offending your enemies as in de- 
 fending yourself 5 and I never in my life met with that 
 man that gave me so much ado, body to body, as 
 you have done this day : wherefore, I adjudge the prize 
 of knighthood unto you, by right sentence, above all the 
 knights of my court 3" and then the King took off the 
 chaplet of pearls he wore on his head, and presenting it 
 to him, said, '' Sir Eustace, I give you this chaplet for 
 the best doer in arms, at this last battle, of either party, 
 and I desire you to wear it this year at festivals, for my 
 
 sake.
 
 NOTES. 235 
 
 sake. I know well you are a personable gentleman, 
 young and amorous, and well accepted of among the 
 ladies ; wherefore, if you will wear it in all public 
 balls, and declare that the King of England gave this 
 as a testimony of your valour J 1 will now also release 
 you from prison, quitting you wholly of your ransom, 
 and you shall depart to-morrow, if you pkase." Such 
 was the generous heart of King Edward ; but how 
 gratefully Sir Eustace expressed himself is not delivered 
 to us by any of our historians : they only tell us he was 
 extremely pleased with his fortune to fight hand to 
 hand with so great a King, and to receive from him 
 such an honourable acknowledgment 5 and ihat he not 
 only wore the said chaplet whilst he lived, but, in me- 
 mory of so royal a gift from so mighty a prince, did 
 ever after bear in his arms three chaplets^ garnished 
 with pearls. 
 
 Thus was the treason of the French in time of truce 
 justly thrown on their own heads ; but so enraged was 
 the French King at the disappointment, that having 
 taken Sir Emeric the year after, about St. Omer's 
 (which was also in time of truce), he was, by his order, 
 first degraded of knighthood, branded with a hot iron, 
 and then his tongue being cut out, he was hanged, be- 
 headed, quartered, and dismembered. — {HoUinshed — 
 Mezerai — Froissart — Walsingham — Collins' s Life of the 
 Black Prince.) 
 
 Note 17.] — ^Vhen Duke William took possession 
 of England, the fine province of Normandy in France 
 was annexed to the English crown j and in the subse- 
 quent reigns, and especially in that of Henry II. whose 
 Queen brought him in marriage Guienne and Poitou, 
 the English possessions in France were very consider- 
 ably extended. 
 
 The name of Aquitain, which Edward III. revived 
 when he invested his son with the duchy and princi- 
 pality, was the ancient title of a Roman province of 
 Gaul ; which province, when subdued by Clovis, reached 
 from the Loire to the Pyrennees. 
 
 It was a matter of jealousy with the French Princes 
 that the subjects of England should be established in 
 so large a part of their ancient territories; and, accord- 
 ingly
 
 2SG EDGAR. 
 
 ingly we find that no opportunity was ever allowed 
 to pass of molesting the inhabitants, or of ravaging the 
 borders or cities belonging to England. The injustice 
 called for chastisement, and hence arose the various 
 local disputes between the Anglo-Normans and the 
 French till the period of Edward III. when hostilities 
 wore a deeper shade, and motives of attack or resist- 
 ance assumed a more serious character. — (See Rapin's 
 England — Gibbon's Rofnan Empire, chap. 28), 
 
 Note 18.] — In 1353 the Cheshire men having com- 
 mitted some insolence or riot against the servants of the 
 Prince of Wales, which were officers under him as Earl of 
 Chester, the King was so much incensed that he sent two 
 justices itinerant to sit in Chester, and at the same time 
 ordered forces under the leading of his son the Prince of 
 Wales, attended by Henry Duke of Lancaster, and the 
 Earls of Warwick and Stafford, to go thither to prevent 
 any violence or insurrection. But the Cheshire men, 
 knowing themselves in fault, compounded with the 
 Prince of Wales their lord, for five thousand and sixty 
 marks, to be paid within four years, and gave such se- 
 curity as the Prince himself desired, on condition, that 
 the justices should no longer continue their circuit of 
 Eyre on them. After v/hich the Prince, on his return, 
 passing through the Abbey of Vale Royal, and seeing 
 there the structure of the fabric of a church, begun by 
 the good King Edward, his great grandfather, he gave, 
 of his princely good will, five hundred marks towards 
 the promotion of the said pious work, which was 
 esteemed a tenth of his whole perquisites in Cheshire. 
 •^{Collins' s Life of the Black Prince, p. 42, 43). 
 
 Note 19.] — As Edward's foreign wars had more or 
 less connection vrith the ancient Salic law of the French 
 monarchy, it may not be impertinent to give here a few 
 arguments of several writers upon the subject. First, 
 with regard to the law itself : it will be necessary to 
 know (as Rapin observes, p. 446) what is meant by the 
 Salic law, which is in every one's mouth, which so few 
 have any knowledge of, and concerning which the 
 French themselves aie not agreed, though they reckon 
 it a fundamental l^w of their monarchy. Some say the 
 Salic law is not to be looked for among records since it
 
 NOTES. 237 
 
 is a law of nations. Sorae pretend that Pharamond, 
 the first King of the Franks^ decreed, by an express 
 law, that the females should not succeed to the crown, 
 which has ever since been inviolate. 0thers attribute 
 this law to Clovis. Mazarine pretends the succession 
 of the males to the crown of France was not established 
 by a written law, but by an inviolate custom. This 
 confusion of ideas which makes the Salic law to be con- 
 sidered as a law of nature, another while as a positive 
 and express law, and sometimes as a mere custom, ren- 
 ders this matter obscure. 
 
 Before the Franks settled in that part of Gaul they 
 have so long possessed, they were dispersed by troops 
 (or in tribes) in Germany and the Low Countries, from 
 whence they received several names according to the 
 different parts they inhabited. Some were called Sa- 
 lians (hence the word Salic) from the river Sala, which 
 ran through their country. Others were distinguished 
 by the names of Chamavi, Catti, Attuarians, Ripuarians. 
 Each of these colonies had laws common, no doubt, to 
 all the Franks, and probably particular ones too. Of 
 these tribes the laws of the Salians and Ripuarians only 
 are handed down to modern times. 
 
 Thus says Gibbon, c. 38. Before the election of the 
 Merovingian Kings, the most powerful tribe or nation 
 of the Franks, appointed four venerable chieftains to 
 compose the Salic laws ; * and their labours were exa- 
 mined and approved in three successive assemblies of 
 the people. After the baptism of Clovis, he reformed 
 several articles that appeared incompatible with Chris- 
 tianity. Tne Salic law was again amended by his sons ; 
 and, at length, under the reign of Dagobert, the code 
 was revised and promulgated in its actual form, one 
 hundred years after the establishment of the French 
 monarchy. 
 
 To return to Rapin — 
 
 It is a common notion that the famous Salic law con- 
 cerns solely or chiefly the succession of males to the 
 
 crown 
 
 * Latin appears to have been the original language of the 
 Salic law. It was probably composed in the beginning of the 
 fifth century before the aera (A.D. 421) of the real or fabulous 
 Pharamond.
 
 238 EDGAR. 
 
 crown of France, by determining the qualifications of 
 those who may put in their claim. This notion is 
 wrong in several respects. Of the seventy-two articles 
 this law consists of, there are but three or four lines of 
 the sixty-second relating to this point. Besides they do 
 not particularly concern the succession of the males to 
 the crown 3 but belong in general to all the noble fa- 
 milies, whose rights they regulate as well as the Royal 
 Family. The words run thus : As for the Salic land, 
 no part shall descend to the females, but all shall go to the 
 males. 
 
 By Salic land is meant the lands of the nobles of the 
 nation, and moreover according to some^ the lands of 
 conquest, such were almost all those of the French mo- 
 narchy on this side of the Rhine. What has chiefly oc- 
 casioned this popular notion, was the great dispute for- 
 merly between Philip de Valois and Edward III. of 
 England. 
 
 The idea that the Salic law related only to the suc- 
 cession of the crown of France, is the reason that per- 
 sons cannot understand how Edward III. son of a 
 Princess of France, could dispute the crown of France 
 with Philip, descended from father to son from Hugh 
 Capet. But they who reason thus, are not aware they 
 take for granted a thing not contested indeed at pre- 
 sent, but which at the time of this famous dispute, was 
 the only point in question between the two Kings. 
 Since that point M-as decided, the present notion of the 
 Salic law is just and certain, but I will venture to say 
 it was then doubtful. 
 
 Second. — The ground of Edward's pretensions to the 
 crown of France. These consisted in his being the 
 nearest in blood to the last King. 
 
 Charles the Fair died on the 1st of February, 1328, 
 without male issue, and leaving his Queen pregnant, 
 there arose a great dispute concerning the regency of 
 the kingdom. Edward laid claim to it, as nephew and 
 nearest relation to the deceased King : but Philip, son 
 of Charles de Valois, maintained he had an incontes- 
 table right to the regency. This controversy was de- 
 cided in favour of Philip by the Peers of France, who 
 adjudged him the regency till the birth of the infant. 
 
 In 
 
 J
 
 NOTES. 239 
 
 In the mean time Edward called a Parliament, and 
 laid before them his reasons for claiming the regency of 
 France ; and he afterwards wrote letters to certain 
 Lords of Guienne, dated the 28th of March, about a 
 month before the French Queen's delivery. On suppo- 
 sition she was brought to bed of a daughter, he told 
 these Lords his intent was to use all possible means to 
 recover the right and inheritance of the Queen his mo- 
 ther. 
 
 In April, Joanna, the wife of Charles the Fair, was 
 delivered of a Princess whose birth would, from that 
 moment, have occasioned a bloody war, if the minority 
 of Edward, with other circumstances, had not hindered 
 him from prosecuting his pretensions. He demanded, 
 however, the crown of France, by his Ambassadors : 
 but Philip causing himself to be crowned, by virtue of 
 the judgment that gave him the regency, the English 
 Ambassadors were not so much as heard, 
 
 Edward, not having it in his power to push the aflFair, 
 thought proper to let it lie dormant till a more favour- 
 able opportunity. Several pieces in the collection of 
 the public acts shew, this was his intention, and that 
 his silence argued nothing less than a design to depart 
 from his right. Indeed the alliance which Edward 
 formed with Flanders, his communications with the 
 Lords of Guienne, and other measures which he took, 
 are sufficient evidence that he meditated some grand 
 design, and this was no other than the recovery of his 
 mother's right, the kingdom of France. 
 
 All this is necessary to be kept in mind, because we 
 might otherwise be startled at seeing this very Prince 
 doing homage to Philip, some time after, for his pro- 
 vinces in France. 
 
 Edward was summoned to appear and do homage in 
 person. In his present disposition he would have gladly 
 been excused from paying homage to a Prince, whom 
 he considered as an usurper of his right. Bat his coun- 
 cil, reflecting on his youth, and the state of the king- 
 dom, could not think of approving a refusal which pro- 
 bably would throw him into great difficulty. On the 
 other hand, the Queen (his mother), and the Earl of 
 March did all that lay in their power to prevent a quar- 
 rel
 
 S40 EDGAR. 
 
 rel with Philip : but these remonstrances would per- 
 haps have had little weight with him, if, for his satis- 
 faction, there had not been devised an expedient, unbe- 
 coming indeed the sincerity Kings ought toprofess, but 
 which his youth and passion permitted him not to exa- 
 mine too nicely. It was suggested to him, that by pro- 
 testing beforehand against the homage, it would be no 
 detriment to his claim. Pursuant to this advice, he 
 made, by a Procurator, the following protestation be- 
 fore his council : — " That for any homage whatever 
 to be made to the Lord Philip de Valois (now bearing 
 himself a King of France) by King Edward of Eng- 
 land, for the Dukedom of Guienne and Earldom of 
 Ponthieu, he did not therebv intend to renounce his 
 HEREDITARY RIGHT to the realm of France, or any ways 
 derogate from the same ; even though letters thereupon 
 should be signed with either of his seals." And he did 
 farther protest, *' That he would not do any homage to 
 the Lord Philip of his own free will, but only for the 
 just fear he had of losing the said Duchy and Earldom, 
 and because he was afraid he could not avoid other 
 great dangers and irreparable losses." 
 
 How great soever EdAvard's unwillingness was to do 
 this homage, the consequences whereof he so much 
 dreaded, he resolved upon it, for fear of making known 
 by his refusal, a design which it was not yet proper to 
 discover. To make himself amends, in some measure, 
 for tbe mortifying step he was forced to, he ordered a 
 great number of Lords to attend him, and with a very 
 splendid equipage, and a retinue of a thousand horse, 
 came to Amiens, where Philip expected him. On the 
 day appointed for doing his homage, he appeared be- 
 fore the King of France in a robe of crimson velvet, 
 embroidered with leopards of gold,f his crown upon his 
 head, his sword by his side, and gold spurs on his heels. 
 The * King of France received him sitting on his 
 throne, his crown on his head, his sceptre in his hand, 
 and a robe of blue velvet, powdered of fieur-de-lis of 
 
 gold. 
 
 * King Philip died in 1350, and was succeeded by his son, 
 John de Valois, who was caken prisoner by the English at the 
 battle of Poictiers in 1356. 
 
 t The English Kings used to have leopards in their quarter- 
 ings instead of lions.
 
 NOTES. 241 
 
 gold. By him were the Kings of Navarre, Majorca, 
 and Bohtmisu^ fRapin's Hist, of England — Speed). 
 
 Note 20.] — Thomas Beauchamp, Earl of Warwick, 
 attended King Edward in his wars in Scotland and in 
 France, and was present and did him i^reit service in 
 the famous sea-fight in 1340. At the fHiuous battle of 
 Crescy he commanded the van of the 'English army, and 
 afterwards, for the great services he performed at the 
 siege of Calais, he had a thousand marks a-year granted 
 him during life. He was present after this in the fa- 
 mous battle of Poictiers, where the King of France was 
 taken prisoner, and where the Earl fought so long, that 
 his hand was extremely galled with using his sword and 
 pole-axe ; but he had the good fortune to take prisoner 
 William de Meleun, Archbishop of Seinz, for whom he 
 received as a ransom eight thousand pounds. He at- 
 tended Edward the Black Prince in several campaigns 
 after this, and in the year 1360 he passed through 
 France, with a train of six hundred horses in his pas- 
 sage to the East, where he made war against the Infi- 
 dels for three years, and at his return into England 
 brought with him the son of the Prince of Lithuania 
 (Portugal), who was christened at London by the name 
 of Thomas, the Earl being his godfather. This noble 
 Earl and his brother John were two of the first Knights 
 of theGarter, and we find thathe continued in high favour 
 with the Sovereign, and in the exercise of his military 
 virtues to the time of his decease, which happened on 
 November 13, 1369, of the plague, at the time he com- 
 manded the King's army in France. He had by his 
 Countess, Catherine, daughter of Roger, Earl of March, 
 five sons and nine daughters. His eldest son, Guy, 
 died in his life-time. Seven of his daughters married 
 into the greatest families in the kingdom. — {Biographia 
 Britannica). 
 
 Note 21.] - Guy, the Saxon Earl of Warwick, whose 
 main story, however it may be mixed with the marvel- 
 lous, has gained, and still continues to gain belief, is 
 said to have lived and performed his wondrous exploits 
 in the reign of Athelstan, in the aera 938. 
 
 The fame of this valorous Knight extended all over 
 Europe, and passed to Asia, for we read in the Baron- 
 
 VOL. I. M 
 
 age
 
 2M 
 
 EDGAR. 
 
 age of England, vol. 1, part o£ a stofy fw)m the me- 
 moirs of John Rous, the historian of the Warwick fa- 
 mily. Speaking of Richaixl de Beauchampj, born 1381, 
 
 he says '* At ihe time of his being at Jerusalem a 
 
 noble person, called Baltredam (the Sultan's lieute- 
 nant), hearing that he was descended from the famous 
 Guy of Warwick, whose story they had in booj&s of 
 their own language, invited him to his own palace, and 
 royally feasted him, presented him with three precious 
 stones of great value, besides diverss cloths of sillLi and 
 gold given to his servants." 
 
 The story of Guy Earl of Warwick was wrought in a; 
 suit of arras, and presented by King Richard II. to his 
 half-brother, Thomas, Earl of Surrey. 
 
 For the mention of Guy as the conqueror of the 
 Danish giant, vide Speed — Histary of Battles and Sieges. 
 
 Note 22.] — The Order of the Garter was instituted 
 (probably revived) by King Edward III. in 1344', under 
 the title of the " Sovereign and Knights- Companiom of 
 the Most Noble Order of the Garter." 
 
 This order consists of twenty-six Knights, or Com- 
 panions, generally Peeis or Princes j whereof the King 
 of England is the Sovereign or Chiefi 
 
 They wear a garter, set with pearls and precious 
 stones, on the left leg, between the knee and calf- with 
 this motto: " Honi soit qui mal y pense" : and they 
 bear this motto surrounding their arms. The meaning 
 of which motto is said to be, that King Edward having 
 laid claim to the kingdom of France, retorted shame 
 and defiance upon him that should dare to think amiss 
 of the just enterprize he had undertaken tor recoveritfg 
 his lawful right to that crown ; and that the bravery oi 
 those Knights whom he had elected into this Order was 
 such as would enable him to maintain the quarrel 
 against those who thought ill of it. 
 
 The Order is under the patronage of St. George, the 
 tutelar Saint of this kingdom. Their college is held at 
 the castle of Windsor, within the chapel of St. George, 
 and the chapter-house erected by the founder for that 
 purpose. Their robef, &c. are the Garter, decked witlr 
 gold and gems, and a buckle of gold to be worn daily ; 
 and at feasts and solemnities a sur- coat, mantle, high 
 
 velvet
 
 NOTES. 243 
 
 velvet cap, collar of SS's composed of roses enamelled, 
 &c. 
 
 The Order of the Garter appears the most ancient 
 and noble lay order in the world It is prior to the 
 French Order of St. Michael, by 50 years ; to that of 
 the Golden Fleece, by 80 years ; to that of St. Andrew, 
 by 190 years > and to that of the Elephant, by 209 
 years. 
 
 Since Its institution there have been eight Emperore 
 and twenty-seven or twenty-eight foreign Kings, be- 
 side numerous Sovereign Princes, enrolled as Com" 
 panions thereof. — {Chambers's Cyclopaedia. For the 
 origin of the Garter see note 45.) 
 
 N-OTE 23.]— Edward If I being of netessity so mar- 
 tial a Prince, would naturally draw in his train all tbe 
 nobles and aspiring youth of the kingdom whether he 
 moved towards Scotland in defence of his fiontiers, oY 
 to^rard^ theinterior of France in pursuit of Ms right. 
 
 In order to encourage still further the illustrious 
 chiefs that assisted in his battles, and raised the fame 
 of England to a height unknown before, he bestowed, 
 with a munificent hand, grants of land and money j 
 and (which touched more keenly the young breasts of 
 those times) he gave honours which were especially 
 reserved as the reward of military skill. 
 
 These consisted in knighthood, either as relating to a 
 high order in the Garter, or as the word was then un- 
 derstood to mean a mark of rank given to him who had 
 distinguished himself by martial prowess. 
 
 This kind of knighthood is vei*y ancient among us ; 
 for we have an instance of King Alfred conferring this 
 order on his son Athelstan. — {William of Malmsbury). 
 
 Edwaird the Black Prince was knighted by his father 
 immediately upon his landing in France the same yeaf 
 as the battle of Crescy, and the English King desires the 
 young Prince, by his messenger, in the heat of the 
 battle (Collins, p. 14), to win his spurs, and deserve 
 the honour of knighthood that he had so lately con- 
 ferred on him. If it was esteemed an honour conferred 
 on a Prince and heir to the throne, we may weil sup- 
 pose it to have been considered highly by others. Tbus^, 
 oa the morning that Crcscy was fought King Edward 
 M 2 knighted
 
 244 EDGAR, 
 
 knighted fifiy young gentlemen of noble birth — (Col- 
 lins' s Life B. P. p. 10. See Chambers's Cyclopcodia) . 
 
 Note 24 ] — Roger Bacon, the ornament and the 
 prodigy of the 13ih century, was educated at Oxford, 
 and discovered from his earliest yfars so extraordinary 
 a genius for the sciences, as to gain him the favour and 
 protection of the most learned men of his tiiue. and to 
 excite the astonishment and admiration of succeeding 
 ages. 
 
 1. He was a perfect master of the Latin, Greek, 
 and Hebrew, and has left posterity such indubitable 
 marks of critical skill in them, as might have secured 
 him a very high character, more especially ccmsidering 
 the age in which he lived, it he had not distinguished 
 himself in any other branch of literature. 
 
 2. In all branches of the mathematics he was won- 
 derfully well versed, and there is scarcely any part of 
 them on which he has not written with a solidity and 
 clearness which have been deservedly admired by the 
 greatest masters in that kind of science. 
 
 3. In respect to mechanics particularly, the learned 
 Doctor Freind says, very justly, that a greater genius 
 had not arisen since the days of Archimedes. 
 
 4. He understood likewise the whole science of op- 
 tics to a surprising degree of accuracy and exactness * 
 
 • 5. In geography also he was admirably well skilled 
 as appears from a variety of passages in his works, 
 which shew that he was far better aci|uainted with the 
 situation, extent, and inhabitants, even of the most dis- 
 tant countries, than many who made that particular 
 science their study, and wrote upon it in succeeding 
 limes, 
 
 6. But 
 
 * Reading glasses, burning glasses, the camera obscura, and 
 aM sorts of glasses which magnify or diminish any object, bring 
 jt nearer to the eye, or remove it farther off, the telescope 
 (however this last might be improved by Galileo), were all in- 
 vented by Roger Bacon, who himself pays, in one of his treatises : 
 — *• Glasses may he so figured that things the most remote may 
 appear near, so that at an incredible distance we may read the 
 smallest character, and number things though never so small ; and 
 lastly, make stars appear as near as we please." — (Vide Dr. 
 PIbtt's note, Biographia Britannica, to prove that Bacon was 
 either the invemor or improver of the telescope.)
 
 NOTES. 
 
 ^245 
 
 6. But his skill in astronomy was still more amazing, 
 since it plainly appears^ ih it he not only pointed out 
 that error which occasioned the reformation in the calen- 
 dar, that has given rise to the distinction between the 
 old style and the new, but also offered a much more ef- 
 fectual and perfect reformation, than that Avhich was 
 made in the time of Pope Gregory XI H. 
 
 7. There are remaining some works of his relating 
 to chronology ; and he has treated of the four great 
 empires of the wjrld in his great work addressed to 
 Pope Clement IV. with great accuracy. 
 
 8. He was thoroughly acquainted with chemistry, at 
 a time that it was scarcely known in Europe, though it 
 had been loug cultivated among the Arabians, and in 
 this art three capital discoveries were made by him. 
 The invention of gunpowder j alchemy, or the art of 
 transmuting metals ; and the tincture of gold for the 
 prolongation of life. 
 
 9. In physic he was far from being unskilled, as ap- 
 pears in his Treatise of Old Age, and other of his 
 works. 
 
 10. In logic and metaphysics he was excellently well 
 versed, as is shewn in those parts of his writings in 
 which he has treated of these subjects. Neither was he 
 unskilled in philology and the politer pans of learning. 
 
 11 . In ethics or moral philosophy he was a very great 
 master j and as he was a man of good sense and unble« 
 mished probity, so he has laid down the noblest and 
 most generous principles for the conduct of human 
 life, in the treatise he has left us upon that subject. 
 
 12. But as his profession and course of life required a 
 particular application to theology, so it plainly appears 
 that he made all his other studies subservient thereto, 
 and directed both his actions and writings to the glory 
 of God and the good of his fellow creatures. — {Hiogra' 
 phia Britannicaj vol. i). 
 
 Note 25 ] — England has at all times, even in its 
 rudest state, been possessed of a breed ot horses suffi- 
 cient to answer every necessary purpose. The venerable 
 Bede says, that the English began to use saddle-horses 
 about the year 631, when prelates and others rode on 
 M 3 borse<
 
 ^46 
 
 EDGAR, 
 
 horeback, who till that time were accustomed to walk. 
 In the reign of Athelstan the English became so jea- 
 lous of their horses^ which were also held in high 
 esteem by foreigners, that a law was made by that Mo- 
 narch to prohibit the exportation of them, unless they 
 were designed for presents. 
 
 With regard to the larger breed of horses, no country 
 in the world can bring a parallel to the size and 
 strength of our (English) horses destined for the 
 draught. In London there are instances of single 
 horses that are able to draw, on a plain, for a small 
 space, the weight of three tons, and which can with 
 ease and for continuance, draw half that weight. But 
 the most remarkable proof of the strength of our Bri- 
 tish horses, is derived from that of our mill-horses, 
 some of which will, at one load, carry thirteen mea- 
 sures, which, at a moderate computation of seventy 
 pounds each, will amount to nine hundred and ten 
 pounds.— ^(C^om6ers's Cyclopcedia, yo\. ii). 
 
 Note 26.]— The first mentioti which I have hap- 
 pened to meet with of the old Welch instrument sent 
 herewitji is in JLelsind's Colleetanea (wheie, amongst 
 ^ome I/atin words, for which he gives the Saxon ap- 
 pellatioBs) liiicen is rendered cruth. This agrees 
 almost in so many letters with the Welch instrument 
 caJl^d ^ cry th , by which oaiiie it is still known in many 
 parts of North Wal^s. 
 
 There ig indeed a representation of an instrument, 
 which bears an almost exact resemblance to the Welch 
 cruth, amongst the outside ornaments of the Abbey of 
 Melross, in Scotland, which, to the best of my recol- 
 lection, is supposed to have been built about the time 
 pf Edward II. 
 
 This Welch instrument seems to have been the 
 origin of the violin, which was not commonly known in 
 England till the reign of Charles 1. 
 
 The bow used in playing upon this instrument is ra- 
 ther an aukward one, much resembling that which they 
 sell in the shops for tenor fiddles. 
 
 The bows indeed of all this kind of instruments are 
 become considerably longer than they used to be, 
 
 within
 
 NOTES. ^ S47 
 
 within these twenty years ; an improvement which we 
 owe amongst many others to the celebrated Tartini. 
 
 The chief reason of my having sent this ancient in- 
 strument, called a criith, to the Society for their inspec- 
 tion is, that it is now, perhaps, on the very point of 
 being entirely lost, as there is but one person in the 
 whole principality who can play upon it. 
 
 His name is John Morgan, of Newburgh, in the 
 island of Anglesey, who is now fifty-nine years of age, 
 so that the instrument will probably die with him in a 
 few years. — {Hon. Dairies Barrington on Instruments 
 used in IVales^ArchceologicL, vol. iii). 
 
 Note 27. 3 — Few will concur with Dr. Pettingal in 
 his opinion, that St. George was no more than an alle- 
 gorical Saint * ; because it is so extremely difficuk, 
 amd even impossible to suppo»)e, that the Franks, or the 
 western christians, who, for the most part, were very 
 ignorant and illiterate men, when they were in the east, 
 where they heard so fUuch of this Cappadocian Saint 
 and soldier, and of his martyrdom, should ever think 
 of viewing him, his miracles, and exploits, in a figura- 
 tive and emblematical light. We may depend upon it, 
 tfeat though at this distance of time, we can riecdver ^o 
 few phrticulftrs of St. George's story, fend can arrive 'at 
 so little certainty about the circamstances of it, yet, 
 the adventurers in the Crusades undoubtedly regardfed 
 him as a real person, a most -glorious and illustrious 
 martyr. They found his name in the calendars j they 
 met with various places denominated from him j they 
 frequented his tomb j they heard him invoked, and 
 heard much of his apparitions 3 they saw churches and 
 monasteries dedicated to him, and even received, as they 
 thought, seasonable and special assistance from 
 Heaven, through his mediation j and lastly, not to 
 mention his reliques> they could not but observe proper 
 services appointed for him in the Greek and Roman li- 
 turgies. After all which, it is not possible that our an- 
 M 4 cestors, 
 
 * Yet this is more honowabJe than dedocihg the origiiiaJ and 
 the namt; of the .saint, as some of the learned do, from George 
 tne Tit^etical Artau Bi-shop of Alexandria, an infamous profli- 
 Irate, tmo fn '^reda \)j the heatiieh on account of his scaDdalons 
 aftfl iliWlerable oppressions of the people.
 
 S48 E D G A E. 
 
 ccstors, on their return from tbe east, and in particular 
 in the reign of King Edward the Third, shonld deem 
 cf bira otherwise, than as having been once a true man, 
 and more than an ideal ligment of the brain. Whence 
 Mr. Selden write?, and with great judgment and pro* 
 priety: ''That the many and ancient dedications of 
 churches to him, okl relations of his miracles and appa- 
 ritions, the peculiar liturgies and festivals in both 
 churches, Greek and Latin, belonging to him, and di- 
 vers other particulars before mentioned or designed of 
 him (his being a martyr having been never, before this 
 age, questioutd) may supply the full weight of the best 
 ecclesiastical story that could have been left of him." 
 Indeed, this excellent scholar and antiquary was fully 
 convinced, upon the strictest inquiry, of the existence 
 of St. George, both as a man and a martyr j and the 
 same may be said of Sir Walter Raleigh, Doctor Key- 
 lin, and Doctor Fuller, the latter of whom, rejecting 
 the allegorical sense some would put on St. George's 
 story, observes the improbability of the English na- 
 tion choosihg a fictitious saint for their patron, when 
 the world abounds with so many real ones. Dr. Key- 
 lin, who has handled the argument most copiously, has 
 shewn that authors of all ages, from Eusebius Caesari- 
 ensis, A. 326, to Hen. Oracus, A. 1600. have acknow- 
 ledged the reality of our saint and martyr. — (Mr. Pegge 
 on the History of St. Oeorge. Archceologia, vol. v.) 
 
 Note 28 ]— King Edward III. having so much at 
 heari the success of his foreign wars, would not with- 
 hold from his representative or chief governor of 
 Aquitain, who was no less than his own (as he ex- 
 presses himself in his let4:ers patent) " most beloved 
 son^" the power to confer any dignity or honour. I 
 must suppose, therefore, that the Black Prince, from 
 the time of his being invested with the Duchy, had the 
 liberty to give knighthood : especially too, as on his 
 accession to the principality of Aquitain, several years 
 after he took the title of duke, we find it expressly 
 mentioned in the charter, among other royal privileges, 
 ** that he shall at his pleasure ennoble persons ignoble." 
 Collins's Life B. P. p. 1 72), and of course, by the same 
 
 authority.
 
 NOTES. 249 
 
 authority, give honours to those whose birth already 
 distinguished them. 
 
 Note 29.] — Edward III. was extremely anxious in 
 all matters relating to the trade of England^ but of no 
 branch so much as of wool. It is generally thought 
 that until his reign the finest English wool was sent to 
 Flanders to be manufactured, and that he was the first 
 monarch who encouraged weavers ; but these artificers 
 were iinown in England long before, for Henry II. ia 
 the 3 1st year of his reign, A D. 1 186, granted a patent 
 to the weavers of London, importing, that if any cloth. 
 were found to be made of Spanish wool mixed with 
 English wool, the mayor of London should see it burnt. 
 (Chambers, vol. iv.) 
 
 Bat Edward removed the staple that had been set up 
 in Flanders into England ; gave vast encouragement to 
 all workmen. whether foreigners or natives j granted large 
 privileges to them in companies, and neglected no 
 means of increasing and improving the staple* manu- 
 facture of the commodities of the kingdom. — {Speeds- 
 Chambers— Rapin.) 
 
 Note 30.] — Mr. Pegge, speaking of an ancient gold 
 ring, says — This T.oble jewel was at first thought to 
 have been the property and ornament of King Athel- 
 Stan, especially as it \va? generally known that artificers 
 in gold and enamel were in his time uncommonly ex- 
 cellent in this iblaiul. 
 
 I am not aware of any reasonable objection that caa 
 be raiser) again^^t this appropriation ; unless any body 
 should fancy there were no artists here in Bishop 
 Alhstan's time capable of executing so elegant a piece 
 of wo'k King Alfred, it may be urged from Asser 
 Meneveiifii, had. indeed, some expert jeweller*, and 
 want^'d not materials j and there is extant a valuable 
 remain of hi«i, a sp'^cinien of most curif-us workmanship. 
 If it be aNked what evidence theri is that before bis 
 reign there were any good workmen here? I an- 
 swer, it is plain, from the passage of As^erius here 
 M 5 referred 
 
 * Staple signifies tbia* or that town, whither the merchants of 
 England were, by Act of Parliameutj to carry their wooJj cloth, 
 lead, aad tin.— (i?sp?«.)
 
 f^O 
 
 E D G A II 
 
 referred tO;, that the goldsmiths there spoken of were 
 already in the island, and that Alfred only caused them 
 to exert themselves by the encouragement he gave them, 
 the notice he took of them, and the instructions or 
 perhaps designs which he furnished them v^ith. 
 
 It appears, from venerable Bede, that Oswald, King 
 of Northumberland, was served in silver at his table- on 
 high festivals J and on one occasion, as the story has it, 
 being informed by his almoner that a multitude of poor 
 people attended in the streets for his alms, he ordered 
 the victuals to be carried out, aid the dish to be broken 
 in pieces and distributed among them.* This was be- 
 fore AD. 642 ; and soon after we read thaX Wilfred, 
 Archbishop of York, was master of a great quantity 
 both of plate and jewels. Malmsbury reports he was 
 served in gold and silver ; this prelate caused the scrip- 
 tures to be richly bound with gold and precious stones. 
 Indeed, books, the sacred ones especially, bad their 
 coverings often ornamented in these agee with gold, 
 silver, and gems ; the former were in plates, but the 
 last must of course be set. Alcuin, ver. 297, the story 
 of the dish is mentioned ; and the silver shrine also 
 ot King Oswald, at Bamborough, containing his arms, 
 ver. 306. King Offa greatly enriched the shrine of 
 King Oswald at Bardney. — (Illustration of gold ena- 
 melled ring, &c. with some account of the slate and 
 condition of the Saxon jewelry in the more early ages, 
 by Mr. Samuel Pegge : Archceologia, vol. iv.) 
 
 Notes 31 and32.]~-Pait of the ceremony of the 
 coronation of Kniite and his Queen Elfgiva is painted 
 at the beginning of a very curious coseval-manuscript, 
 formerly belonging to Hyde Abbey, of which Knute 
 was the founder. The conquest of England by Wil- 
 liam the Norman, together with the circumstances that 
 contributed thereunto, from the first embassy on which 
 Harold went into Normandy, until the conclusion of 
 the battle of Hastings, was, by command of Queen 
 Matilda, represented in painting ; and afterwards, by 
 her own hands and the assistance of the ladies of her 
 court woiked in arras, and presented to the cathedral 
 at Bajeux, where it is still preserved. 
 
 Simeon 
 • Beda, iii. c. 6,
 
 if T ti. 251 
 
 Simeon IX. Al)bot 6f Ely, who ^as a neiV relation 
 to the Conqueror, and founder of that cathedral, caused 
 the history of Saint Eiheldreda, daughter of Anna, 
 King of ihe E^st Angles, to be carved in basso-relievo 
 on the capitals of the eight pillars that support the 
 dome and lantern. King Henry III. who, throughout 
 the course of his long reign, shtrwed bis great regard to 
 the liberal arts, and entertained and encouraged their 
 professors, frequently commanded that his palaces and 
 chapels should be adorned with English historical paint- 
 ings and sculptuies. 
 
 Althou^^h that monarch doth not mention what were 
 the subjects of those historical pieces which he ordered 
 to be painted in his Queen's chamber at Winchester, 
 yet he is more explicit as to others, which were the 
 effects of his roy^l mandate, such as the histories of the 
 two royal saints, Edmund and Edward, which wete 
 painted in his round chapel at Woodstock ; the history 
 of the crusade in the King's great chamber within the 
 tower of London, and in a low room in the garden, near 
 his jewTy at Westminster, which last-mentioned roOm, 
 on account of its being so decorated, was thenceforth 
 to be called the Antioch chamber ; the story of Ed- 
 ward the confessor taking off his ring and giving it tO 
 a poor stranger, painted in St. John's chapel, within the 
 Tower of Loudon, and in the Queen's chapel at Win- 
 chester j and the life of King Edward the Confessor, 
 both in painting and sculpture, round his chapel in 
 Westminster Abbey, executed by the hand of P^ter.^ 
 Cavalini. 
 
 Many parts of our English story are represented in 
 the illuminations which adorn that copy of Matthew 
 Paris which he presented to King Henry Jli. Laftg- 
 ton, Bishop of Lichfield, caused the coronation, mar- 
 riages, wars, and funeral of his patron. King Edward I. 
 to be painted in the hall of his episcopal palace, which 
 be had newly built. The story of Guy, Earl of Warwick, 
 was \\T:ought in a suit of arras, and presented by King 
 Richard H. to his half-brother,Thomas Earl of Surreyj 
 and the history of the latter part of the reign of that 
 unfortunate King wa$, by one of bis courtiers, repte- 
 sented with great accuracy in sixteen paintings, which 
 M 6 adorn
 
 252 EDGAR. 
 
 adorn a manuscript presented to his Queen, and now In 
 the British Museum. Many other instances might like- 
 wise he produced. — (Sir Joseph Ayloffe's historical de- 
 scription of an ancient picture in Windsor-castle: Ar- 
 chcEologia, vol. iii. — See also the notes in the second 
 volume of this work.) 
 
 Note 33.] — The ancient Britons were a tall finely 
 proportioned race, and the women fair and of exceeding 
 good features. Plutarch says the strength of nature 
 wrought long in the Britons_, for ihey sometimes lived 
 to the age of 120 years. — {Speed, hook v.) 
 
 "Their strength was very great," (says a Roman of 
 the Britons) ^ " their horses are but little, yet there- 
 withal swift of pace ; their footmen, also, run very 
 speedily, but in their standing are the strongest : their 
 armour are shields and short speares, in the nether end 
 whereof is fastened a round bel'e of bvasse, like unto a 
 hall, which, at the first onset of encounter, they shake 
 with great courage." — {Speed, book v.) 
 
 ** The ancient Saxon tiibe were a people," says Ta- 
 citus, " well set, Sterne of countenance, tall of stature, 
 gray-eyed, and of a firie aspect, and their haire yellow.'' 
 Unto whom Witichinders, the monk, addeth and saith, 
 that " They were falrc of complexion, chcerefuU of 
 countenance, vejy comely of stature, and their limbes 
 to their bodies w^ell proportioned ; bold of courage^ 
 hardy in fight^ and very ambitious of glory." — {Speed, 
 book vii) 
 
 Courage is a quality that seems to be congenial to 
 the English nation. Boys, before they can speak, dis- 
 cover that they know the proper guards in boxing with 
 iheir fists; a quality that, peihaps, is peculiar to the 
 English, and is seconded by a strength of arm that few 
 other people can exert. This gives the English soldier 
 an infinite superiority in all battles that are to be de- 
 cided by the bayonet screwed uijon the musket. The 
 English coinage has, likewise, the property, under able 
 commanders, of being eoually passive as active. — 
 {Guthrie, p. 212.) 
 
 The dariagness of the soldier, the profoundness of 
 the scholar, the magnificence of the gentry, and the ro- 
 bustness
 
 NOTES. ^53 
 
 .bustness of the labourer, are not surpassed, if equalled, 
 by any people in the world. 
 
 Good-nature is a qualification peculiar to the English, 
 so peculiar that, as a noble writer observes, there is no 
 word for it in any other language. 
 
 The British women are not without vanity, preten- 
 sions to satire, and the like ; which vices they have 
 borrowed from their neighbours the French: but no 
 women outdo them in modesty, paiience, charity, pro- 
 vidential care, temperance, wit, good humour, cleanli- 
 ness, and that which crowns all the rest, is the sincerity 
 and zeal of religious devotion. 
 
 The common people will endure long and hard la- 
 bour, insomuch that, after twelve hours hard work, 
 they will go in the evening to foot-ball, cricket, prison- 
 base, wrestling, cudgel-pUying, or seme such-like vehe- 
 ment exercise for iheir recreation.— {Chamberlayne's 
 Great Britain, p. 34, Ed. 1735.) 
 
 Note 34.] — The Fowt;y river was, in former times, 
 <!eep enough to admit of ships anchoring close to the 
 town of Lestwiihiel ; but it is now choaked with sand. 
 — (Brooks' Gf.zetleer.) 
 
 Note 35.] — Charles, King of Navarre, surnamed 
 the Wicked. He was descended from males of the 
 blood royal of France, and the grandson, by his daugh- 
 ter, of Lewis the Boisterous ; he had espoused Joanna, 
 the dflughte'* of John : but these ties, \vbich ought to 
 have induced him to support, only animated his efforts 
 to overthrow the throne. His personal qualities were 
 the adpiiration of France and Navarre; he was cour- 
 teous, affable, enterprising and eloquent, iusinuating 
 in his address, and enterprising in his designs ; but re- 
 verse the portrait, and he was faithless, revengeful, and 
 malicious ; insatiate of power, and unrestrained by 
 principle. — Page 374 — {History of France: Lor.don, 
 J 790.) 
 
 Note 2>6 ] — The diversion of hawking, sporting 
 with the hUwk, we may sn'-jpose to ha\c been knowa 
 in very ancient times, as " a:n liundred hawks with flut- 
 tering wiijg " aie mentioned in Ossian, as a giit. But 
 it is certain that in the Saxon times falconry was well 
 
 under-
 
 t5i t& G Ak. 
 
 uftderstdod. Tbe great Alfred i^ fe&id id h^vi Men, at 
 twelve years of age, a most expert knd active hunter j 
 and Edward the Confessor's fondness for the exfercises 
 of hunting and hawking is dest:ribed by his historian. 
 (See Dr. Henry, 598.) The figure of a hawk upon the 
 left hand was the mark by which the painteis of tliose 
 times distinguished persons of high rank, of both sexes^ 
 from their inferiors; which is a sufficient proof th&t 
 thfeir fondness for, and frequent use of that bird Was 
 universally knoWn. So great a value did the princes 
 atid nobility of Europe in this period set upon their 
 hawks, that they constantly carried them in all their 
 joumies, and sometimes into battle, and would not part 
 vtrith them even to procure their own liberty. The 
 truth is, to resign his hawk was one of the most disho- 
 nourable actions of which a nobleman could be guilty, 
 and was considered as a voluntary resignation of his 
 nobility.— (Page 599.) 
 
 In the ancient laws of the Kings of Wales there were 
 registered twenty-four great officers ; of which sixteen 
 belonged to the King and eight to the Queen. The 
 fourth in rank is the penhebogydd, or master of the 
 hawks ; he sat in the fourth place from the King at the 
 royal table 3 but was permitted to drink no more than 
 three times, that he might not be intoxicated and 
 neglect his birds. He had the care and management of 
 all the King's hawks, and the direction of all the people 
 employed in the royal sport of hawking. When he had 
 been at any time remarkably successful in his sport, the 
 King was obliged, by law and custom, to pay him the 
 aost distinguishing honours ; to rise up to receive him 
 when he entered the hall, and even, on some occasions, 
 to hold his stirrup when he alighted from his horse. — 
 (Dr. lienry's England, p. 271.) 
 
 Edward III. in the midst of mighty preparations for 
 w^ar, and even whil-t laying siege to Rheims, had with 
 him (says Collins, p. 12t), besides all kinds of com- 
 forts and resources, *' thirty falconers on horseback. 
 With hawks 3 and sixty couple of hounds, and as many 
 greyhounds, besides those hawks and hounds Which his 
 s6hs and the chief of the nobility had; so that they 
 KiwKdd and hunted at th^il' fileasdr^." 
 
 The
 
 NOTES. S55 
 
 The Grand Seigoibr usually kie^ps six thousand fal- 
 coners in his service. 
 
 Note 37] — Princes of the blood were, in the four- 
 teenth century, styled '' My Lord," in addressing ihera 
 or speaking of them, as we see in the two letters of a 
 man of rank, given at length in Collins' s Life of the Black 
 Prince, p. 49—54. 
 
 The title of Grace was first given to the King about 
 tiie time of Henry IV. ; to Henry VI. Excellent Grace ; 
 to Edward IV. High and Mighty Prince ; to Henry VII. 
 sometimes Grace, and sometimes Highness ; then Ma- 
 jesty j and now Sacred Majesty, or Most Excellent 
 Majesty. — {Chamberlayne" s Great Britain, p. 43.) 
 
 Note 38.} — That the Britons, in Roman times, were 
 great artists in building, and had numerous workmen, 
 we have a signal proof 3 since about the time of our 
 Emperor Carausius they were forced, in Gaul> to send 
 for masons into Britain, to rebuild their cities and pub- 
 lic buildings, destroyed by the frequent irruptions of the 
 Franks and other Gero)an nations. 
 
 Edward III. about 1547, huilded to the use of St. 
 Stephen's chapel (though out of the palace court), some 
 distance west in the Little Sanctuary, a chlochard (clo- 
 chere) of stone and timber, covered with lead, and 
 placed therein three bells ; about the biggest of which 
 was written, 
 
 KiAg Edward made me 
 Thirty thousand and three •- 
 Take rae down and wey rae. 
 And more shall ye find me. 
 
 Thus Stow— And 'tis still called the belfry.— (Dr. 
 Stukeley on the Sanctuary at Westminster : Archaolo- 
 gia,vo\.\.) 
 
 The naming of bells, together with the benediction, 
 as a defensative against thunder and lightning, being 
 introduced in this period (the 10th century) by Pope 
 John XIV. Turketil cast a great bell, which he called 
 Guthlac. His successor taking the hint, added some 
 r&ore to it, and made the first tuneable ring of bells in 
 England.— /ngw^p^M*. — Rapin, p. 316. 
 
 Bells were used by the Romans to signify the times 
 
 of
 
 256 
 
 EDGAR. 
 
 of bathing; and naturally applied by the Christians of 
 Italy, therefore, to d note the hours of devotion, and 
 summon the people to church. They were so applied 
 before the conclu'^ion of the seventh century in the mo- 
 nastical societies of Northimihria; and as early as the 
 sixth even in those of Caled ni ». And they were, 
 therefore, used from the first erection of parish churches 
 among us. Those of France and England appear to 
 have been furnished with several bells, as Egbert, in 
 his second excursion, about the ye;;r 750, commands 
 every priest^ at the proper hours, to sound the bells of 
 his church. The custom of ringing regular peals, now 
 peculiar to the inhabitants of England, commenced in 
 the time of ihe Saxons, and was common before the 
 conqntst.— (f'Vhita her' s Histor^j of Manchester, vol. ii. 
 p. 416,417.) 
 
 Note 39.] — The falcon Is a noble bird of prey, of the 
 hawk kind, much esteemed for its strength and activity. 
 The name falcon is restrained to the female ; for, as to 
 the male, it is much smaller, weaker^ and less courage- 
 ous than the female. 
 
 The art of hawking, or training up birds of prey to 
 chase wild fowl and game, is veiy intricate in its terms, 
 and lequires much attention. Several writers have 
 treated the subject fally.— (See Chambers,) 
 
 The falcon used always to be hooded with a leathern 
 cap when not on duty, and on her legs were buttoned 
 small bells, that the falconer mi^jht hear her every 
 movement. When she escaped from her feeder and 
 would not return, she was said to bear away the bells. 
 
 Note 40.] — We find cranes used at the table as early 
 as the No-man Conquest, for Eudo (says Sir William 
 Dugdale) ''personally attending at court, it .so happened, 
 that IVilliam Fltz O.^borne, then steward of the household, 
 had set before the King the fie^h of a crane scarce half 
 rosted, ^c." ^ 
 
 We meet with th-^m also as low as the reign of King 
 Henry V] II. for, when the French ambassadoss came 
 to England, AD. 1527^ the citizens of London presented 
 them {inter alia, i.e. an.ongst other things) with 12 
 swans, 12 cranes, 12 fesantz, 6ic. 
 
 In
 
 NOTE S. 257 
 
 In the order of a feast royal made by Cardinal Wol- 
 sey, there was to be at the first coarse, *' heronsewe, or 
 bitter j" and at the serond, *' crane rostyd, &c.'' And 
 in the inventory of Serjeant Kebeel, l.JOO, which was 
 not long before, viz. in the reiijn of Henry VII, three 
 cranes alive were valued at five shilling*; which accords 
 very well with the price of them in the Duke of Nor- 
 thumberland's MS. household-book, 1512, where they 
 are directed, as I am informed, against Christmas, and 
 other principal feasts, to be bought in, for the then 
 Earl of Northumberland's own mess, at sixteen pence a 
 piece, and, as I suppose, when dead. 
 
 As to the intermediate time between the Norman 
 Conquest and the reign of Henry VIIJ. it appears from 
 Mr. Bateley's Appendix to Somnefs Antiquities of Can- 
 terbury, p. 29, that, at the great inthionization feast of 
 George Nevil, Archbishop of York, 6th of Edward IV. 
 there were 204 cranes^ 204 bittors, and 400 heroa- 
 shaws. 
 
 In the Harleian MSS. No. 4016, purveyance is made 
 for King Richard II. being with the Duke of Lancas- 
 ter, at the Bishop of Durham's palace at London, 22d 
 September, 1 1 Richard II. of 5 herons and bitours, 
 12 cranes j and the second course consisted of a pot- 
 tage, pigs rostid, cranes rostid, pheasants roslid, herons 
 rostid, &c. 
 
 How they were caught in England I cannot pretend 
 to say. It is said they were formerly an object for the 
 hawk i and we know that in Italy they were caught in 
 snares ; however, they were certainly taken here, and 
 not imported ; for Mr. Pennant writes, 
 
 •* This species (the crane) was placed, in the folio 
 edition of the zoology, anaong the British birds, on the 
 authority of Mr. Ray, who informs us that in his time 
 they were found during the winter in large flocks in 
 Lincolnshire and Cambridgeshire ; but, on the strictwt- 
 enquiry we learn that at present the inhabitants of those 
 counties are entirely unacquainted with them ; we, 
 therefore, conclude that these birds have forsaken our 
 island. They were formerly in high esteem at our 
 tables, for the delicacy of their flesh (I suppose at great 
 tables, and on great occasions) ; for they feed only on 
 
 grain.
 
 S5S EDGAR. 
 
 grain, herbs, or insects ; so have nothing of the rankness 
 of the piscivorous birds of this genus. Though this 
 species seems to have forsaken these islands at present, 
 yet it Avas formerly a native^ as we find in Willoughby, 
 p. 52, that there was a penalty of twenty pence for 
 destroying an egg of this bird ; and Turner relates that 
 he has very often seen their young ones in our marshes." 
 — (Mr. Samuel Pegge's Dissertation on the Crane, &c. 
 Archeeologia, vol. ii.) 
 
 Note 41.] — I conceive, then, that it might be about 
 A.D. 280, that licence for planting vineyards was 
 granted to the provincials. The licence, it seems, was 
 very general, for the Panonii and the Moesi, as well as 
 the Gauls, the Spaniards, and the Britons, partook of it.* 
 
 Thus it may be supposed the Britons began to plant 
 vines in this island soon after the year 280 ; and, ac- 
 cordingly Bede, who finished his history A.D. 731, 
 writes expressly, in his description of Britain, '' Vineas 
 etiam quibnsdamin locis germinant 3" also they produced 
 vines in some places j which account is also inserted 
 from him in Ralph Higden's Poly chroni con, and In 
 Richard of Cirencester. The acqaiescence of Ralph in 
 this case is of Weight, because he well knev^r ivbat he 
 assented to, since, when he comes to Bede's assertion 
 in respect of Ireland, lie then contradicts him. 
 
 It is most natural to suppose that the propagation of 
 the vine would be first attempted in the southern parts 
 df ttie island, both on account of the climate's beifig 
 ther« the warmest, and their fhroximity to Gaul, from 
 trkence, in all probability, the plants \tould be fii-st 
 
 brought . 
 
 * Aur. Vict. Caes. cap. 37th Epitome, cap. 37th, Eiitr^p. '^♦h, 
 cap. 17. And he, ("Probiis) rtiaking use Of the hands and labour 
 of tiie soldrer.?, planted Mount Almus, or Alma, (a) near Sir- 
 miam, and Mount, Aureus, in the Upper Moesia, w'ith \ih6* ; 
 .a«d then it follows in Eutro^^itts, by t vea-y gefieral and «omT^e- 
 hensive expression, " Et provin<;ialibus colertda (vinea's) ^edit" 
 — and he granted to the provincials a licence for planting vioe- 
 tJtt-ds." 
 
 \a) So the MS. of Eutropi'us, In the public library iCt 6&W1- 
 brhiige; and see Vinettw ad t'^c. ; See als6 Xii^bv itx E^b^ftie, 
 Vopiscus, aaA CeliawiUi i. page 356.
 
 NOTES. 259 
 
 brought. Thus Winchester and its environs were for- 
 merly famous for vines, as appears from the old verses 
 cited by Mr. Somner. The testimony of John Twyne, 
 in bis commentary, who supposes the city of Winches- 
 ter to have taken its name from hence, is very ample 
 and express. Mr. Somner conjectures, that the street 
 at Canterbury called Winecheape might, perhaps, take 
 its name, from being a market for wines. However, 
 he elsewhere informs us, that in the time of Henry de 
 Eastry, prior of Canterbury, A.D. 1285, seq. that 
 church, as well as the abbey of St. Augustin's there, 
 was plentifully furnished with vineyards, as at Colton, 
 Berton, St. Martin's, Chertham, Brook, and Holling- 
 bourn, all manors belonging to that house, and all situ- 
 ate in Kent. 
 
 At Rochester, a large piece of ground adjoining to 
 the city is now called the vine ; another there is so 
 called, at Sevenokes, in Kent j and this also was the 
 name of the seat of the Barons Sandes, now extinct, in 
 Hampshire: on occasion of the mention of this 4a&t 
 place, Mr. Camden observes, that we had vines in Bri^. 
 tain ever since the times of Probus the Emperor ; " for 
 it was he who gave liberty to the Britains and others 
 to have vines," agreeable to what has been delivered 
 above. At Hailing, near Rochester, the bishop of that 
 see had formerly a vineyard, for, when Edward II. in 
 his nineteenth year, was at Bockinfold, '' Bishop Ha- 
 mon sent him thither," as Mr Lambarde tells u*, " a 
 present of his drinkes, and withal both wine and gra,pes 
 of his own growth, in his vineyarde at Hailing, which 
 is now a good plaine meadowe." Captain Nicholas 
 Toke, of Godington, in Great Chart, in Kent, " hath 
 so industriously and elegantly," says Philipot, '* culti- 
 vated and improved our English vines, that the wine 
 pressed and extracted out of their grapes seems not ovXy 
 to parallel, but almost to out-rival that of France." 
 
 Vines have also come to tolerable perfection both in 
 Oxfordshire and StatFordshire. " The vine," says Dr. 
 Plott " has been improved by the Right Worshipful Sir 
 Henry Lyttleton, to that advantage, at Over-Arley, 
 which is situate low and warm, being surrounded with 
 hills, that he has made wine so good there, that it has 
 
 been
 
 ^60 EDGAR. 
 
 been altogether nndistingnishable from the best French 
 wines by (he most judicious palates ; but this, I sup- 
 pose, was done only in some favourable over hot sum- 
 mer ; though, if the vines were placed advantageously, 
 it is possible i' ini;»ht be done in an inditferent year^ 
 the Keverend ana learned Dr. Kalph B.iiharst, presi- 
 dent of Trinity College, and dean ot VVeiiSj having made 
 as good claret here at Oxon, A.D. 1685, which was a 
 very mean year for that purpose, as one could wish to 
 drink. Which is so far fri)m wonder, that we are in- 
 formed they planted vineyards and made wines antient- 
 ly, over all the kingdom ; for, though Tacitus says, it 
 bore all sorts of fruits, prceteroleam et vitenij* yet we 
 find in Vopiscus, that the Emperor Probus, for some 
 good service ilone, permitted the Britons to plant them 
 vineyards, which had been no great favour, could they 
 not have nmde wines." — (V.) 
 
 Many more passages relative to this subject might, 
 no dowbr, be collected together from the writings of 
 our antiquaries, but these are all that occur to me at 
 present ; and, it is hoped, will he sufficient for the pur- 
 pose ', namely, to shew what Dr. Plot above observes, 
 that the Britons made wines anciently over (almost) all 
 the kingdom. — (Mr, Samuel Pegge on the Vine ift 
 Britain : Archceologia, vol. i.) 
 
 Note 42.]— It is asserted, only upon the authority 
 of one writer, and this a P'renchnjan, that the Einglish 
 jjlayed upon the French with four pieces of cannon at 
 the battle of Crescy; but most of our historiavis consi- 
 der the assertion as too frivolous to merit attention, 
 and wholly suppress it, or else argue the matter, to 
 prove that the shame and humiliation of the French, in 
 recording so wondrous a d;^feat, put them upon such an 
 expedient to (in a meastire) cover their own disgrace. 
 Collins, who is exceedingly minute in every circum- 
 stance relating to the battle of Crescy, in which the 
 darling Prince whose life he wrote was the hero, gives 
 not the smallest hint of other means than those esta- 
 blished in the wars of the thirteenth century. 
 
 Note 
 * Except oil and wine.
 
 NOTES. 261 
 
 Note 43.]— Collins says that the Black Prince was 
 knighted before ihe battle of Crescy, when he was six- 
 teen years and twenty-seven days old. — (p 7.) 
 
 Rapin declares the young Prince was about sixteen, 
 but his translator isseits, in page 424, that the Prince 
 of Wales was but thirteeu years atui a month when he 
 made his first c^iupHii^n. From the period of the battle 
 of Crescy the French began to call the Prince of Wales 
 '^ Le Neoir," or the Black Prince; and in a record 
 2 R. II. p 12, he is called the Black Prince.— (Co//i«s.) 
 
 Note 44.J — The generous soul of the Great E<lward 
 and his noble son were never so con-^picuoas as i.i those 
 moments of high prosperity which are so intoxicating 
 to ordinary mind*. The proudei their vinories, the 
 more fervent were the piety, uiodt^sty, an I forbearance 
 of father and son. 
 
 Speed writes (p. 691), "Here there may be some 
 controversie, wherher the exemplary manhood of the 
 English, or their singul-ir pietie, were more to be com- 
 mendeilj but who will not infiuitely prefer the latter, 
 chiefly in souldiers, among whom it is usually most 
 wanting r Great was the victorie, great was their 
 prowesse, and great the glory ; but they, like true 
 Christian knights and souldiers, forbare all boast, re- 
 ferring the whole thankes and honour of their preser- 
 vation to God, the tiue author thereof." 
 
 King Edward managed this victory (Crescy) with as 
 great moderation as he had shewed conduct in the ob- 
 taining it: he first embraced ihe Prince his son, and 
 kissed him, saying, " Dear son, God give you grace to 
 persevere as you have begun ; you are my best son ; 
 you have acquitted yourself nobly, and truly deserve 
 the crown for which we fought." But the Prince made 
 no reply, only bowed almost to the ground. Then the 
 King rendered thanks to God, whose aid he had im- 
 plored at the beginning of the battle ; and commanded 
 that none should insult or boaNt of their success.— 
 fCoUins's Life of the Black Prince, p. 16.) 
 
 Note 45 ) — The origin of the order of the Garter is 
 rather involved in obscurity, yet the story of the Coun- 
 tess of Salisbury is set aside by our antiquaries as fa- 
 bulous. 
 
 Some
 
 26^ EDGAR. 
 
 Some say that Edward III. ordered his garter to be 
 displayed at Crescy as a signal of battle j in commemo- 
 ration whereof he made a garter the principal orna- 
 ment of the order erected in memory of this signal vic- 
 tory, and a symbol of the indissoluble union of the 
 knights. But other writers observe that, though this 
 order was insrtituted by Edward III. yet it had been 
 projected before him by King Richard I, in his expedi- 
 tion- to the Holy-land. It appears, from Rastel's Chro- 
 nicle, book vi. quoted by Granger in the supplement to 
 his Biographical History, that this order was devised by 
 Richard I. at the siege of the city of Acres, when he 
 caused twenty six knights, who firmly stood by him, toi 
 wear thongg of blue leather about their legs 3 and that 
 it was perfected in the 19th year of Edward III. — 
 (^Speed— Chambers' Cyclopcedia.) 
 
 Note 46] — It may be presumed that both the an- 
 tient church dedicated to St. Paul, in London, and that 
 dedicated to St, Peter, in Westminster, were among the 
 earliest works of the first converts to Christianity in 
 Britain. With their new religion they introduced a 
 new manner of building, and their great aim seems to 
 have been, by,afFecting loftiness and ornament, to bring 
 the plain simplicity of the Pagan architects into con- 
 tempt. 
 
 Historians, agreeable to the legend, have fixed the 
 ajra of the first abbey in the sixth century, and ascribed 
 to Sebert the honour of conducting the work, and of 
 compleating that part of it, at least, that now forms the 
 the east angle, which, probably, was all that was in- 
 cluded in the original plan. 
 
 In the reign of Edward the Confessor, the antient 
 building was cleared away, and a most magnificent 
 structure erected in its place. In the form it bore the 
 figure of a cross, which afterwards became a pattern for 
 cathedral building throughout the kingdom. 
 
 Henry III. not only pulled down and enlarged the 
 plan of this antient abbey, but added a chapel, which 
 he dedicated to the Blessed Virgin 3 but it was not till 
 the reign of Henry VII. that the stately and nragoifi- 
 cent chapel, now known by his name, was planned and 
 
 executed.
 
 NOTES. 
 
 26^ 
 
 executed. Of this chapel, the first stone was laid on 
 the 24th of January, 1502, and, when completed, was 
 dedicated, like the former chapel, to the Blessed 
 Virgin. Henry designed thi* as a burying-place for 
 himself and his successors, expressly enjoined by his 
 will that none but those of the blood-royal, should be 
 inhumed therein. — {Historical Account of the Curiosities 
 of London and Westminster.) 
 
 Note 47.] — The old bridge of Loudon was begun 
 by King Henry U. and finished anno 1209, in the 
 reign of King John. Chanaberlayne writes, *' for 
 admirable workmanship, for vastness of foundation, for 
 all dimensions, and for solid houses, and rich shops 
 built tbereon, itsurpasseth all others in Europe : it has 
 nineteen arches, founded in a deep broad river, and 
 some say, on a soft oozy ground, eight hundred feet 
 in length, sixty feet high, and thirty broad ; hath a 
 drawbridge almost in the middle and twenty feet be- 
 tween each avch. 
 
 The building of this bridge of London was an ex- 
 ceeding difficult and costly piece of work -, and to 
 those that consider the constant great flax and reflux at 
 that place, it seems almost impossible to be done 
 again." — {Chamherlayne' s Great Britain, p. 252.) 
 
 Note A'^.'] — The celebrated piece of architecture* 
 the Cathedral of St Paul, was first founded by Egbert; 
 a Saxon King, A.D. 610, **in a place," saiih Mr. Selden, 
 " where had stood a Temple of Diana. Afterwards it 
 was enlarged by Erkenwald, the fourth Bishop of this 
 See. The greatest part was destroyed by fire, 1086, 
 in a general conflagration of almost the whole city, 
 and rebuilt by Mauritius, the thirty-fifth Bishop, but 
 not finished till 1221. It was six hundred and ninety 
 feet long, that is twenty more than St. Peter's in 
 Rome. The nave, or body of the church, one hun- 
 dred and two feet high, one hundred and thirty broad : 
 its area, three acres and a half, its tower in the middle 
 (for it was built as other cathedrals, cross-wise), five 
 hundred and twenty ffeet high, besides a bowl of copper 
 gilt, nine feet in compass ; on which was a cross fifteen 
 feet and a half high ; and on that an eagle cock of cop- 
 per
 
 ^64 EDGAR. 
 
 per gilr, four feet long.*' — (Chamberlapie's Great Bri- 
 tain, p. 216). 
 
 Note 49.] —The antient and magnificent City of 
 London, was never more honoured or more proudly 
 triumphant, every circumstance considered, than in the 
 reign of Edward III. The Lord Mayor, who presided 
 several times in it, was a generous and courtly knight. 
 He feasted at his table four Kii)!is (of England, France, 
 Scotland, and Cyprus), and after the battle of Crescy, 
 another Lord Mayor held a Tournament, which the 
 King of England, the Black Prince, and all the Princes 
 of the Blood, with the highest nobles, attended, bear- 
 ing the city aims on their shields and surcoats : they 
 held ihe field three days before a vast concourse of 
 spectators, who knew not till afterwards, the high ho- 
 nour that had been done them. 
 
 The population of London and the adjacent parts, 
 at this time must have been immense, for such mul- 
 titudes assembled to witness the entry of the captire 
 French King into London, that the solemnity of the 
 cavalcade held from three o'clock of the morning till 
 noon. 
 
 The riches and resources of the vast capital were 
 amazing too, in this reign — for when the French royal 
 captive made his entry, he was met by Sir Henry Pi- 
 card, the Lord Mayor, and more than a thousand chief 
 citizens, on horseback. (King John being clothed in 
 royal apparel, was mounted on a large white courser, 
 in token of sovereignty, and to be the more remark- 
 able ; the generous Prince of Wales riding by his side 
 on a little black hobby, as one that industriously 
 avoided all suspicion of triumphs ) Ihey took their 
 way over London Bri()ge, and rode directly to West- 
 minster, and in the streets they passed, the citizens 
 set to public view, their plate, tapestry, and wares,, of 
 different sorts j but especially they boasted of their 
 warlike furniture, and exposed that day, in their shops, 
 windows, and balconies, such an incredible quantity of 
 bows and arrows, shields, helmets, corselets, breast, 
 and back pieces, coats of mail, gauntlets, vambraces, 
 swords, spears, battle-axes^ harness for horses, and 
 
 other
 
 NOTES. 265 
 
 other armour, both offensive and defensive, that the 
 like had never been seen in the memory of man. — 
 (Rapin ; Speed ; Chamherlayne ; CoUlns's Life of the 
 Slack Prince.) 
 
 Note 50.] — Near to the Abbey Church of West- 
 minster stood the Royal Palace, and usual place of 
 residence for the Kings of England, who ordinarily 
 held their Parliament and all their Courts of Judica- 
 ture in their dwelling houses (as was done at Paris, by 
 the Kings of France, in the Tsle deNostre Dame, and 
 is at this day at Madrid, by the King of Spain), and 
 many times set themselves in the said courts of judi- 
 cature, as they do still sometimes in their courts of 
 Parliament. A great part of this spacious palace, was 
 in the time of Henry VJII, destroyed by fire 3 what 
 remaineih, hath been still employed for the use of the 
 Lords and Commons assembled in Parliament, for the 
 chief courts of judicature, and for the King's trea- 
 sury. The Great Hall some say was built by William 
 Rufus, others by Richard I or TI, which, for all its 
 dimensions, is not to be equalled by any hall in 
 Christendom. It is, including the walls, just three 
 hundred feet long, and one hundred broad ; the height 
 proportionable to its other ample dimensions, aad the 
 roof of Irish oak. — {Chamherlayne, p. 217.) 
 
 The Saroy palace was a vast building, first erected 
 all of stone, by Peter Earl of Savoy and Richmond, 
 uncle to Eleanor, wife to our King Henry HF. who 
 afterwards purchased the same for her son Edmund 
 Duke of Lancaster -, there were also, adjoining the pa- 
 lace, an ecclesiastical college and a chapel, — {Cham- 
 berlaynes Great Britain, p. 226.) 
 
 Note 51.] — The use of gloves is of great antiquity. 
 Amongst other curious particulars relating to them in 
 the Republic of Letters, vol. x. p. 289, are the follow- 
 ing : — " Let us, then, be content to begin with the 
 authority of Xenophon. He gives a clear and dis'inct 
 account of gloves ; speaking of the manners of the Per- 
 sians, he gives us a proof of their effeminacy ; that, not 
 satisfied with covering their head and their feet, they 
 
 VOL. I. N also
 
 266 EDGAR. 
 
 also guarded their hands against the cold with thick 
 gloves. Homer, speaking of Laertes at work in his 
 garden, represents him with gloves on his hands, to 
 secure them from the thorns. Varro, an ancient writer, 
 is an evidence in favour of their antiquity among the 
 Eomans. In lib. 2, cap. 55, de Re Rustica ; he says, 
 that olives gathered by the naked hand are preferable 
 to those gathered with gloves, 
 
 "" Pliny the younger informs us, in his account of his 
 uncle's journey to Vesuvius, that his secretary sat by 
 him, ready to write down whatever occurred remark- 
 able ; and that he had gloves on his hands, that the cold- 
 ness of the weather might not impede his business. 
 
 " In the beginning of the ninth century, the use of 
 gloves was become so universal, that even the church 
 thought a regulation in that part of dress necessary* 
 In the reign of Lewis le Debonnaire, the council of Aix 
 ordered, that the monks should only wear gloves made 
 of sheep-skin. 
 
 '* To point out the various uses of gloves in the several 
 ages ; for, beside their original design for a covering of 
 the hand, they have been employed on several great 
 and solemn occasions ; as in the ceremonies of investi- 
 tures, in bestowing lands, or in conferring dignities. 
 Giving possession by the delivery of a glove prevailed 
 in several parts of Christendom in later ages. 
 
 "As the delivery of gloves was once a part of the ce- 
 remony used in giving possession ; so the depriving a 
 person of them was a mark of divesting him of his 
 office and of degrading him. Andrew Herkley, Earl of 
 Carlisle, was, in the reign of Edward II. impeached of 
 holding a correspondence with the Scots, &c. Wal- 
 singham, relating other circumstances of his degrada- 
 tion, says, ' His spurs were cut oflf with a hatchet -, and 
 his gloves and shoes were taken off, &c.' 
 
 '* Another use of gloves was in a duel ; on which oc- 
 casion he who threw one down was thereby understood 
 to give defiance ; and he who took it up, to accept the 
 challenge. 
 
 " But, though such combats are now no longer in 
 use, we have one ceremony still remaining among us.
 
 NOTES. 267 
 
 "Tirhich the challenge is given by a glove 3 viz. at the 
 coronation of the Kings of England. Upon which oc- 
 casion his Majesty's champion, completely armed and 
 well mounted^ enters Westminster-hall^ and proclaims 
 that, if any man shall deny the Prince's title to the 
 crown^ he is ready to maintain and defend it by single 
 combat. After which declaration he throws down his 
 glove or gauntlet, as a token of defiance. 
 
 '^ The last use of gloves to be mentioned here was 
 for carrying the hawk, which is very ancient. In for- 
 mer times Princes and other great men took so much 
 pleasure in carrying the hawk on their hand, that some 
 of them have chosen to be represented in this attitude. 
 There is a monument of Philip I. of France still re- 
 maining, on which he is represented at length on his 
 tomb, holding a glove in his hand. 
 
 " Chambers informs us that it is not safe at present 
 to enter the stables of princes without pulling ©flf the 
 gloves. He does not, indeed, tell us in what the dan- 
 ger consists. A friend from Germany explains the 
 matter. He says it is an antient established custom in 
 that country, that whoever enters the stables of a prince 
 or great man with his gloves on his hands, is obliged to 
 forfeit them, or redeem them by a fee to the servants. 
 
 *' The same custom is observed in some places at the 
 death of the stag j in which case the gloves, if not 
 taken off, are redeemed by money given to the hunts- 
 men and keepers. This is practised in France j and 
 the late King never failed of pulling off one of his 
 gloves on that occasion. The reason of this ceremony 
 is not known. 
 
 *' We meet with the texm glove-money in our old re- 
 cords j by which is meant, money given to servants to 
 buy gloves. This, no doubt, gave rise to the saying of 
 giving a pair of gloves y to signify making a present for 
 some favour or service. 
 
 *' To the honour of the glove it has more than once 
 been admitted as a term of the tenure or holding lands. 
 One Bortran, who came with William the Conqueror, 
 held the manor of Farnham Royal by the service of 
 providing a glove for the King's right hand on the day 
 of his coronation, and supporting the same hand that 
 X 2 day
 
 268 EDGAR, 
 
 day while the King held the royal sceptre. In the year 
 1177^ Simon de Mertin gave a grant of his lands, in 
 consideration of fifteen shillings, one pair of white 
 gloves at Easter, and one pound of cummin. — (Curiosi' 
 ties of Literature i on the Gauntlet, or Glove.) 
 
 Note 52,] — There were in England two sorts of 
 villains -, a villain in gross, who was immediately bound 
 to the person of his lord and his heirs j the other, a 
 villain regardant to a manor, that is, belonging and be- 
 ing annexed to a manor. There are not truly any vil- 
 lains now, though the law concerning them stands un- 
 repealed. The successors of the bond-men, or villains, 
 are now copyholders. — Rapin, T.'s note, p, 151,) 
 
 Note 53. j — The father of the Franciscans, in Bour- 
 deaux, informed me, that their own convent, which is 
 very large, surrounding two vast courts, was founded 
 by Henry III King of England ; that they had the ori- 
 ginal qharter of donation in their possession, which was 
 printed at large in the '* Historia Sacra" of France. 
 
 He said it was dedicated to Edward the Confessor, 
 and shewed me a small statue of him, in a niche over one 
 of the doors of the cloister, under which were these 
 words : — " ^S. Edvardus Tvtelaris Ecclesiastius Con- 
 ventus." 
 
 , Upon a stone, lately pulled down in a part of the 
 cloisters, they were new building, I observed the arms 
 of France, " Semee Fleur de Lis/' quartered with the 
 three lions of England ; and upon another, a lion ram- 
 pant, within a border charged with Bezants, the bearing 
 of Richard, Earl of Cornwall, King ot the Romans, 
 brother to Henry HI. On a .third stone there were 
 three escoliops, the bearing I think, of A. P. Scales. 
 
 The church of this convent was built anno 1249, 
 33 Henry HI. but there are no remains relating to the 
 English in it j and their old books and writings having 
 been long since destroyed I could gain no new light 
 in relation to obits, and other memorandums of their 
 English masters. 
 
 The same father shewed me a MS. book, wrote not 
 long before the year 1600, eui\t\ed " La Bourgeoisie 
 de Bourdeaux.'" but I found little in it relating to ray 
 
 enquiries.
 
 NOTES. 269 
 
 enquiries. In one part I met with a memorandum to 
 this eflfect ; that Jean de Greli, capital de Bouch^ be- 
 coming owner of the house that was Puy Paulins, sold 
 his ancient hotel to Edward, Prince of Wales and 
 Duke of Aquitain, which he said the Prince bought on 
 purpose for the residence of his lieutenants and gover- 
 nors of that province ; to which purpose it was em- 
 ployed as long as Aquitain was the demesne of the 
 crown of England. That Talbot was the last gover- 
 ner who lived in it, and left his name to the house ; 
 but when Aquitain was reduced to the power of France 
 by Charles VII. all the arms, furniture, and other 
 effects of the said Talbot were plundered and destroyed 
 by the mob. 
 
 The front of this palace was standing in the memory 
 of the person who wrote this manuscript 3 and he says 
 it was an ornament to the street } for the gallery in 
 the front, upon which were bas-relievos of men in ar- 
 mour fighting, was of exquisite workmanship. 
 
 Prince Edward, and the former governor of Aqui- 
 tain before this purchase, used to reside in an ancient 
 palace of Jean sans Terre, contiguous to the parish 
 church of St. Simeon, which served a> a chapel to it, 
 but was very troublesome, by reaso 1 of the noise of 
 the bells there ; otherwise very agreeably situated, on 
 the banks of the canal of the ancient Port St. Pier, by 
 the course of the rivulet called Devise, so much cele- 
 brated by Ausonius in his Burdigslia. But this canal 
 being stopped up with sand, and becoming a commoa 
 sewer, became very offensive ; for which reason the 
 Prince moved his lodgings to the archbishop's palace, 
 and gave the said antient palace to the archbishop and 
 his Siuccessors for ever ; from whom it was alienated 
 through many hands, and is now totally destroyed. 
 In the aforesaid church of St. Simeon I observed one 
 quarry of glass, at a very great height, with three lions 
 on it, as borne by the Kings of England } and there is 
 the same on a stone in the city-wal!, near the garden 
 of the Augustin friars ; which are all the memorials of 
 our nation i could meet with. 
 
 The same manuscript mentions, that when Charles 
 N 3 VII,
 
 270 EDGAR. 
 
 VIT, conquered Aquitain and reduced Bourdeaux to 
 his obedience^ anno 1453, he changed the arms of the 
 city, which were three leopards, gold, one above the 
 other, by effacing the two uppermost, in their place 
 substituted a chief azure semeejleur de Us, which they 
 continue to bear to this day. There is no question, 
 but at that time, all arms, inscriptions, or memorials, 
 of the English, were purposely defaced, and all the 
 coin thnt could be found called in, and melted down, 
 to whicli, no doubt, is owing the great scarcity of any 
 pieces struck by our Kings of England in their 
 Aquitain dominions,— {Smart LethieuUier j Esq. relat- 
 ing to some Antiquities at Bourdeaux, &;c. ArchcEologia, 
 vol, i.) 
 
 Note 54,] — Extracts from a copy of Sir John Wing- 
 field's letter, (written nine months before the battle of 
 Poictiers), to a Lord then in England. 
 
 *^ My Lord, — As touching news in these parts, 
 may it please you to understand, that all the Earls, 
 ]3arons. Bannerets, Knights, and Esquires, were in 
 health at the writing hereof j and my Lord (the Prince) 
 hath not lost either Knight or Esquire in this expedi- 
 tion, except the Lord John Lisle, who was slain after 
 a strange manner with a quarrel,* the third day after 
 we were entered into our enemies country j he died the 
 15tb of October. — And please you to understand, that 
 my Lord hath rode through the country, and hath taken 
 many inclosed towns, and burst and destroyed them, 
 
 except such as he fortified for himself. . " 
 
 (And here tolhnvs a long list of the conquered towns) 
 *' And may it please you to understand, that our holy 
 Father sent messengers to my Lord, who being not 
 past seven leag\ics from him, sent a serjeant at arms, 
 who was Serjeant attendant at the door of our Holy 
 Father's chan)ber, with letters to my Lord, requiring 
 of him a safe conduct, to come and declare to his 
 Highness, their message from our Holy Father, which 
 was to treat of an accommodation between my Lord 
 and his adversary of France. But the serjeant was 
 
 tWQ 
 
 * /. e. a stone froiii a wall.—^Ashmole, p, 63,)
 
 NOTES. 271 
 
 two days in tbe avmy, before my Lord would vouch- 
 safe to see him, or receive bis letters. The reason 
 vrhereof was because he was informed, that the power 
 of France was come forth of Toulouse towards Car- 
 cassone ; where my Lord was obliged to turn back 
 again upon them presently as he did. But the third 
 day, when we expected to have met them, they, un- 
 derstanding of our approach, retired before day, and 
 got them to the mountains, marching hastily towards 
 Thoulouse As to the answer which my Lord re- 
 turned to those that lud been sent to treat with him, 
 you would be hugely pleased, if you knew all the mat- 
 ter : for he would not suffer them by any means to 
 approach his person any nearer; but he sent them 
 word by their serjeant, that, if they came to treat of 
 amj mattvr, they should send to the King his father ; 
 for ray Lord himself would not do any thing therein, 
 but by command from my Lord, his father. 
 
 '^ But of my Lord's turning back to meet his enemies, 
 of his repassing the river Garonne, and of his taking 
 castles and towns in this expedition, and of other things 
 done against his enemies in pursuit of them, they 
 were all deeds right worthy and honourable to be told, 
 as Sir Richard Stafford and Sir William Burton can 
 more plainly declare, than 1 can write unto you ; 
 for it would be too tedious to commit so much to 
 writing, 
 
 '^ Now, my Lord, rode over the country eight whole 
 weeks, whereof he rested not above eleven days, in 
 all those places whither he came. And know for cer- 
 tain, that, since this war first commenced against the 
 French King, he never received such loss and mis- 
 chiefs as he has in this last expedition : for the coim- 
 tries and good towns, whicH were laid waste at this 
 time, supplied the French King every year toward the 
 maintenance of his war, with more than half his reve- 
 nue hath done beside j except the change of his money, 
 which he maketh every year, and the profits and cus- 
 tom, which he taketh of the Poicterins ; as I can shew 
 by good records, which were found in divers towiis in 
 the collector's houses. Wherefore^ by God's assist- 
 
 ancCj
 
 ^7^ EDGAR. 
 
 ance, if my Lord had wherewithal to maintain this 
 war, to the King his father's profit and to his own ho- 
 nour^ he should greatly enlarge the English pale, and 
 win many fair places ; for our enemies are wonderfully 
 astonished. — Dated at Bourdeaux, the Tuesday before 
 Christmas." 
 
 Extracts from Sir John Wingfield's second Letter 
 to Sir Richard Stafford. 
 
 '' Right clear Sir, and truly loving Friend, — Touching 
 news here, after your departure, you may understand, 
 that we have taken and forced to yield five towns 
 inclosed, also seventeen castles. 
 
 " The Lords, John Chandos and James Audeley, re- 
 main still with their troops in Chastel Sacret, and have 
 plenty of victuals of all sorts, except only fresh fish 
 and cabbages, as they have by letters advertised us. 
 Wherefore you need not concern yourself about your 
 men, &c. 
 
 '' The Earl of Warwick hath been at Touneins, 
 and at Clerac, which towns he took j and at the 
 writing hereof, was gone towards Marmand. My Lord 
 the Prince is now at Lebourne, and my Lord looks 
 for news, which he should have; and, according to 
 what he hears, he will behave himself : for, as it 
 seems, he stands strictly upon his honour." 
 
 *' Right dear Sir, I can recommend nothing to you 
 more earnestly, than that you remember to send news 
 yourself to my Lord, the Prince, as soon as by any 
 means you can j and so the Lord grant you a long and 
 good life. — Dated at Libonrne, 21st January 1355-6/' 
 — {Collins" s Life of the Black Prince, p. 49, 55.) 
 
 Note 55] — The exceeding thickness of antient 
 castle wall-s allows one to suppose that galleries might 
 be sometimes concealed within, and we have for the 
 strengthening of such an idea, the authority of a 
 vely learned antiquary — speaking of a castle wall, this 
 gentleman says, *^ neither- is there now remaining any 
 enclosed gallery, going quite round the castle, within 
 the thickness of the v/alls. But the vestiges of such 
 a passage may very plainly be traced at the very top 
 of the walls as they now stand ; the walk which is 
 
 there
 
 NOTES. 273 
 
 ihere at present, sunk in the midst of tbe walls like a 
 sort of channel, beinij most evidently tbe bottom part 
 of such a gallery." — {Mr. King on Antlent Castles, Ar- 
 chceologia, vol. iv.) 
 
 Note 56 ] — It was the generous custom in Edward 
 III.'s reign, for every private soldier to share largely in 
 the spoils of war. Every man who had taken any 
 captive had him clearly for himself, either to acquit, 
 or ransom {i. e. liberate for a sum of money) him, 
 at his pleasure. Excepting only the French King and 
 his son, or whoever else was ransomed for more than 
 ten thousand crowns. For by the law" of arms, 
 those v/hose redemption exceeded that sum belonged 
 to the King. — {Collins s Life of the Black Prince,- p. 
 100.) 
 
 Note 57- — In 1349, the year previous to the death 
 of Philip de Valois, the Province of Dauphine was 
 added to France by Humbert If, upon condition that 
 the eldest son of the King should ever afterwards bear 
 the title of 'Dm^hiii.— {Millofs Eleinens de IHldoire, 
 5>c. p. 104.) 
 
 When John was taken prisoner at Poictiers, the 
 Dauphin Charles his son was nearly twenty years of 
 age. He was first constituted lieutenant of the king- 
 dom, and afterwards made Regent, although green 
 and unexpert in public business This same Piince 
 was afterwards called ** the W!^e," but says Collins, 
 " it was, indeed, a most compiimentHry age, which 
 could style Philip of Valois the Fortunate, and this 
 King John, the Good, and his Gon Chailc^, whom no 
 truce nor sacred oath could biud, the Wise.'' — CoUins's 
 Life of the Black Prince, p. 87.) 
 
 Note 58. — Kiiig John de Valois was attended in his 
 captivity by his youngest son, Philip, surnamed the 
 Hardy. The royal youth was very courageous and 
 forward in battle, but this name is supposed to have 
 been given him from a circumstance not so generally 
 known. When he was prisoner in England, his father. 
 King John, being at King Edward's table at dinner, 
 
 this
 
 274 EDGAR. 
 
 this young Prince, among the nobility of both nations, 
 was appointed to wait j and on a young English no- 
 bleman's serving King Edward before his father, he 
 hit him a box on the ear, saying, "^ what dare you 
 serve the King of England first, when the King of 
 France sits at the table?" The nobleman drew his 
 dagger, and offered to strike the Prince, but King 
 Edward loudly forbade him, and said to the royal 
 youth, " vous estes Phillippe le Hardi^" i. e. thou art 
 Philip the Hardy. — {Collins' s Life of the Black Prince, 
 p. 87.) 
 
 Note 59.] — Towards the close of the famous bat- 
 tle of Poictiers, the terror of the French was so great, 
 that they fled in every direction — some rushed towards 
 Poictiers pursued by small parties of the conquering 
 English j the inhabitants alarmed closed the gates to 
 save themselves, and shut out their friends, whereby 
 several archers had each of them four, five, or six 
 prisoners, who yielded without resistance. 
 
 But the Black Prince would not too far pursue the 
 chase till he had completed the victory, by which time 
 all of the common sort had quitted the field, and most 
 of the quality were either slain or taken. The place of 
 battle was left free to the English ; the dead bodies to 
 rely at the disposal of the conquerors ; and more than 
 a hundred warlike ensigns were brought away in 
 triumph. When all were returned from the chase they 
 found they had twice as many prisoners as themselves; 
 whereof, besides the French King and his son, were 
 many nobles and men at arms. Therefore, because of 
 the great charge and danger of keeping so many, seve- 
 ral of them were put immediately to ransom in the 
 field 3 and so courteous were the Enghsh and Gas- 
 coigners, that many were let go on their faith and troth, 
 to return, between that and Christmas, to Bourdeaux, 
 with their appointed ransoms, which were very easy, 
 the generous English saying, — They would not set too 
 high a price upon a knight or gentleman, but that he 
 might still be able to live after his rank, and to follow 
 the wars in an equipage agreeable to his quality. But 
 
 they
 
 NOTES. 275 
 
 they were all enriched, as well by ransoming as by the 
 spoil of the field, consisting<of gold, silver, plate, and 
 jewelSj besides horses, armour, and what they found 
 about the dead, which was costly, the French coming 
 in their best furniture and apparel, as making sure ot 
 the day. — {CoUins's Life of Ihe Black Prince, p. 99, 
 100.) 
 
 END OF YOL. I. 
 
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