"Like a rock dashed on the troubled lake,

That forms its circles, round succeeding round,
Each wider than the last,"

till all the British isles submitted to its triumphant sceptre, and worlds, then unknown, bowed in homage to its mighty power!

This cathedral, though often re-edified, yet still continuing on the same spot, is certainly a place most worthy the pilgrimage of the lover of antiquity. Here rests the bones of numerous kings, princes, and sainted prelates: here repose the dust of Kinegils, the first Christian king of the West Saxons, who erected a new cathedral for the Christian worship. Here Canute the Great, after his return from the shores of Southampton, where, though his followers hailed him the monarch of the ocean, the surges refused to obey his commands, hung up his imperial diadem above the grand altar, which never again was seen on his brows; and beneath it reposed, in after years, the ashes of that lofty king of many nations. In the nave of this edifice, did Queen Emma walk blindfold over nine ploughshares of iron, heated red hot. On the day of her trial, after having spent the night in fervent prayer at the altar of the convent, the queen is brought

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forth before the king, the earls, the bishops, and an immense multitude that crowd and surround every aisle and avenue of the cathedral. The glowing irons are placed in a line on the ground; and now, invoking heaven to assert her innocence, and flinging off her robes of royalty, she is led barefooted betwixt two bishops to the burning metal: the shouts of the multitudes both within and without the lofty pile, roll in thunder along its pillared walls and fretted roof; while amid their shouts they call on God to testify the innocence of their queen. As she slowly approached the irons with upturned eyes, she exclaimed, "O God, who didst save Susannah from the malice of the wicked elders, and the three children from the furnace of fire, save me for the sake of thy holy servant, Swithin, from the fire prepared for me."* She passes over the irons unhurt, and wholly unconscious of their burning power. The king, overwhelmed with contrition, and bathed in tears, falls prostrate in the choir: the lamentations and prayers of the delighted crowds, are turned into acclamations and transports of joy at her miraculous deliverance. She forgives the king, her son, after striking him at his request three times with a wand, and is restored to all her

* See Rudborne and the Annalist, and Ang. Sax. vol. 1. pp. 233, 290.

former possessions and dignities. Such is one of the interesting scenes which have been witnessed in that noble cathedral.

Among my other wanderings, I got access to the Dean's garden, the site of the once-magnificent chapter-house. Here in my musings, I could not but behold the insidious, the tyrannical and abject King John, as he stood in this place before the haughty Archbishop Langton, attended in full state by the Bishops of London, Ely, Lincoln, and Hereford, with a numerous assembly of the prelates and nobles of the land. Here did be fall on his knees before the legate, to receive his absolution from excommunication, and swore by the Gospels to annul all unjust laws and revive those of St. Edward. Here, disgraceful act to Britain, did the fallen monarch renew that fealty and homage, which he had before sworn to Innocent III. for the crown of England. On this spot stood Henry III. and preached a dull sermon to the monks, to induce them to elect his brother Ethelmar for their bishop: and here presented herself, the fair and regal pilgrim of Palestine, Queen Eleonora, after her return from the holy wars to which she followed her husband, to claim the prayers of the monastic confraternity. 'Tis past! Royalty will never again hold its

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solemn assemblies within the dilapidated walls of this once-noble divan of ecclesiastic state!

But how much is it to be regretted, that amid the universal wreck of monasteries, castles, and palaces, the tomb of Alfred the Great, for the honour of the nation, should not have been spared. Alas! when the destruction of Hyde Abbey was completed, the monuments of the illustrious dead, names great in the annals of our country, were all swept away; and a gaol has been erected for the reception of guilt and infamy, on the very spot where rested the sacred dust of our noblest kings. Yes, where pealed the solemn anthem of praise and devotion to the heaven-like melody of the deeply tuneful organ along the pillared fane, is now heard the dismal clang of chains, the cry of the prisoner, and the midnight groan of the blood-stained murderer!

Of the palace of Wolvesey, said to have been built by Kinegils, only a few fragments are standing; and of the royal castle, built by the Conqueror, once the residence of so many mighty kings, whose dungeons have so often echoed to the sigh of the wretched prisoner, and in whose court has been spilt so much noble blood; the scene of the most splendid embassies, and solemn councils, and august meetings of princes; where

Mary held her court when she received Philip and his noble cavaliers, and her nuptials were celebrated with unbounded magnificence, scarce a wreck remains save the chapel, now become the county-hall, with the pretended Tabula Rotunda of King Arthur, who never was within its walls. To complete the absurdity of this table, the figures painted on it are in the costume of the age of Henry VIII.

But I must end my slight researches, and inform you that from this place I returned by a different route towards my home, from which I had now been absent several weeks. During my perambulation, I disposed of a great number of copies, occasionally meeting with some eccentric characters, a few rebuffs, and much friendly encouragement. I heard many curious and rich pieces of criticism on my work; and although all concurred in general approval of it, yet each pointed out a particular and different part, which he considered capable of improvement. In short, I found that if I altered the poem according to the suggestions of those who favoured me with their sapient remarks upon it, not one line of the original would have remained. So much for criticism!

Returning via Dorchester, I there heard of a