eminently forth in the poetry of nature. How undefinable are those feelings which arise in our bosoms on beholding a lofty mountain from afar. How heartstirring a sun-burst amidst hills, now revealing for a moment that rocky hollow, now casting a blaze of radiance around the summit of that half-concealed steep.*

to our hearts of our own decay; but as poor Keats beautifully sings,

Where are the songs of spring? Ay, where are they?
Think not of them: thou hast thy music too,-
While barred clouds bloom the soft dying day,
And touch the stubble plain with rosy hue.

A

But whither are we wandering, we are bewildered We have understood, that objects in no fewer than with that vast expanse of country, surveying " at one twelve counties may be seen from the "Worcestermoment county upon county of rich merry sylvan Eng-shire Beacon," the elevation we now stood upon. land, mansioned, abbeyed, towered, spired, castled;" in good sooth, we hardly know how to embrace it in description, for in the peculiar nature of the scenery, Malvern stands alone. October is a month after our own heart, and the richly wooded plain of Worcestershire appears to most advantage in its autumnal livery, while nature speaks thus silently, though eloquently,

landscape may suffer as much from a bad light as a picture, but on this day, the 17th of October, as noted in our journal, the purity and clearness of the atmosphere was very unusual. Immediately below us lay the entire counties of Worcester and Hereford. The eye roved over the vast sea of wood in the former, which seems one wide verdant forest. In the midst stood the city of Worcester, famous for its porcelain, with its massive cathedral, (in which repose the ashes of the tyrant John,) and its lofty spires; further onwards, in strong relief, the Clifton and Abberley hills rose over the plain; till we came to the Clee hills and Wrekin, famed in Salop, which bound the view in this direction; leaving Hagley Park, near which is

comprehensible; it is, however, sufficiently clear, that certain contingent circumstances exercise a powerful influence over it. We have not yet mentioned Burns, of whose poetry it has been remarked, by those whose arguments we have been endeavouring to controvert, that "there is not much that is purely des

nature's works, but is most himself whilst describing rural scenes, or in depicting human feelings and human sympathies. We will partly grant this, for they came home to his heart and his early recollections. We will grant also, that that portion of Ayrshire, in which he was born, (for on this they rest the stronghold of their argument,) possesses no claims to the picturesque; but, as a friend of ours has remarked in writing on Burns, "Scotia's woods and waterfalls" had evidently a

* It has been ingeniously argued, that romantic and mountainous scenery exercises no influence in forming poetic fancy. Switzerland, that strong hold of the picturesque, is instanced; yet she has produced only one poet, Gesner. The names and histories of Shakspeare, Milton, Spenser, Dryden, Pope, and others, are also brought forward by these reasoners, with a view to prove that poetic feeling is affected by hidden and deeper influences, than mere external objects. It is true, that of our eminent English poets, many may have been born or lived in the metropolis; the crowded streets and noises of which are certainly not very poetical, and we believe that Dryden was laughed at for proposing to write an epic poem, because he had never seen a mountain, while a well-known living poet is jeered as the bard of Cockaigne. But we would en-criptive;" that he seldom soars amongst the more elevated of quire whether, in the majority of instances, the parties had not passed the period of early youth in the country, when the mind is a virgin field, open to all the mysterious influences of nature? There they drank at the fount of their inspiration, for who recalls without a bounding heart that happy period, when the world was yet a sunny paradise before him, when he climbed that crumbling relic of the olden time, swam that river, bounded over those hills, or lay amongst that new-made hay, looking at the glorious sun, yet unconscious of those quick-great effect in directing the efforts of his muse." The situation sands which would ere long too fatally engrasp him. Indeed, the lives of most of our great modern poets stand directly opposed to this town theory. Byron was brought up, in early youth, in the highlands of Scotland, and passed much of his life amidst the most spirit-stirring of nature's scenes. Campbell still fondly clings to the remembrance of the land of his fathers; Scott has undoubtedly drawn the fount of his inspiration from the scenes he has passed his life amongst; Southey and Moore are said to detest a town; we have Wordsworth, Nature's bard," with Coleridge, and the other lake poets; nor should we omit Cunningham and Hogg in this brief enumeration. If these few eminent names, and many more might be added, do not establish the influence of scenery on poetic character, we are at a loss for an argument. A fine scene, or the moral of a ruin in a landscape, comes home with more or less effect to every mind. Still, however, we do not mean to argue that genius may not be found in Cheapside, as well as amongst the lakes; the mind, or in other words, the Soul, is deep and in

of Elliesland, on the banks of the Nith, where he resided after having left his paternal home, was exceedingly beautiful; and it was Burns' greatest delight to walk alone, on a stormy evening, under a Scaur, (Anglicé precipice,) on the banks of the river, which rolled its swollen and turbulent waters furiously onwards below him. It was then he loved to compose. "Indeed," says Mr. Lockhart, "I cannot but think, that the result of an exact inquiry into the composition of Burns' Poems would be, that his vein,' like that of Milton, flowed most happily. from the autumnal equinox to the vernal." It was during a terrific storm of wind and rain, in a solitary ride through the romantic district of the Glenkens, that he composed the celebrated poem of " Bannockburn," in its first and noblest form. His best poetry to the last," says the writer already quoted, "was produced amidst scenes of solemn desolation." And yet the life of Burns has been especially instanced to prove, that the external influences of nature have no effect in forming poetic feeling.

the Leasowes of Shenstone, and glancing more to the within our gaze. But we were in a mood to read west, we observed dense clouds of lurid smoke rolling sermons in stones, and good in every thing." in the horizon, over Birmingham and its thickly popu- Scenes like these eminently tend to calm and to elelated district; nearer to us lay the vale of Evesham, vate the mind, and to lead us indeed from nature up to that rich and fertile belt of country stretching for a nature's God. One of the boasts of England, a snug distance of forty miles, till it terminates at Thornbury, farm-house, with its orchard and its trim stack-yard, in Gloucestershire; the Severn might here and there and well-filled barn and out-tenements, bespeaking be discovered winding through its high and wooded plenty and old English comfort, lay below us on the banks; the Edge Hills, near the classic Stratford-on- Herefordshire side of the hills. There we turned Avon, where the first encounter between Charles and our eyes with pleasure, for we could individualise the Parliament took place, and the extensive Cotswold the interest, and we inwardly thought of the delights range melting away in the distance, rose in the back-and the pleasures of farming and of a pastoral existground; the towns of Pershore, Tewkesbury, Upton, ence; the sterner realities of that once happy occuCheltenham, with the city of Gloucester and its mag-pation were for the moment shrouded by romance. nificent cathedral, stood plainly forth on this part of the landscape; while the Bristol channel, having the appearance of a vast lake of molten silver, had an almost magical effect on the distant horizon.

On the reverse of the landscape was, as we have said, the whole county of Hereford, with its city and cathedral. Roving onwards over the irregular and undulating surface of this beautiful county, (watered by the Wye, and rich with orchards,) we rest on the confines of our British Alps, the "innumerous" hills of Cambria, amongst which the Black Mountains of Brecon and Radnor, rising 2600 feet, stood darkly forth on the frontier; till they mingled with the stern and varied features of Monmouth, and the western portion of the county of Gloucester. The gloomy and elevated nature of the scenery in this quarter of the country has a double effect on the mind, when it is considered that by a single turn of the head the senses wander from the wildness and desolation of that scene to the level plain of Worcestershire, prodigal in richness and fertility; while a host of cities, towns, villages, churches, farm houses, and many minor objects of interest are spread out before you as on a map; and the light and shadow, thrown at intervals over the whole country, give it a thousand different hues which a Claude might envy.

Many of the minor features of the Malvern Hills are highly picturesque; a gorge or an elevated broken rock, with scattered sheep, are objects the mind loves to rest on. We seem to rise above and cast off the littleness of the world, as we survey man and his abodes from a lofty elevation. What a vast field for reflection is opened in the scene before us. What a contrast to the busy stream of human existence in the plains beneath did this elevated solitude present. How much of misery or of happiness-of good and of evil; how many an aching heart under a careless brow was to be found in the space embraced

A word or two on the HILLS themselves and on the interesting watering-place of Malvern, and we have done. The Malvern Hills are a vast mass of quartz and limestone, rising at the southern extremity of Worcestershire, partially dividing that county from Hereford and Monmouth, and stretching gradually towards that tract; rich to a proverb, which is known as the Vale of Evesham. Standing thus alone in the landscape, it possesses a peculiar character. In a hilly country the variety of commanding objects divide the attention; but thy "blue steep," O Malvern, is ever the same, vasty yet not stern, of matchless sweep, a monarch in the land! Thou art yet before us as we saw thee last, at the close of an Autumn's day; thy flowing majesty of outline stretching away with a giant's grasp, till lost and blended with the shadows of evening; whilst the dying halo from the departing sun threw thy purple summits clearly and beautifully out on the heavens.

This was from the "Old Hills," a range of eminences (which are endeared to our remembrance,) about five miles from Worcester and four from Malvern. The view from this point is eminently fine; the eye wandering over a richly-wooded and fertile vale, which sweeps gently away below you, while the Malvern chain, towering in the distance, forms a matchless background. It is a landscape of singular beauty. The sequestered village, (and Abbey church of Great Malvern,) which chiefly lies along an elevated natural terrace on the side of the hills, below the two highest summits, is plainly discernible from this spot. It holds a high rank in picturesque beauty, and as a watering place it is quite unique. The Malvern Hills may lay claim to some interest in a literary point of view, apart from that which they derive from their natural attractions. They were the scene of the earliest British poem, the "Visions of William, concerning Piers Plowman," which is supposed to

No. I. PRIORY CHURCH, LITTLE DUNMOW, ESSEX. sunbeams, which streamed through the delicate tra

THIS interesting and venerable relic of the olden time
stands in a cornfield, about four miles distant from
the town of Dunmow, (the Villa Faustina of the Ro-
mans). It was formerly the eastern end of the south"
aisle of a magnificent collegiate church, erected for
the joint use of the parish, and of a religious house,

rates the body of the church from the chancel; on
the left side of which, between two pillars of the Tus-
can order, I found, as I expected, the fair alabaster
Effigy of the celebrated Matilda. The face, although
much disfigured, bears traces of former beauty: her
hands are clasped as in prayer.

of Castle Baynard, who is distinguished in English History, as the "Marshal of the Army of God, and Holy Church;" and the leader of the illustrious barons, who extorted Magna Charta from King John. Upon her entering her eighteenth year, he invited the neighbouring nobles to a costly banquet.

For three days, justs and tourneys delighted the assembled guests, and won honour and lady's love for many a new-made knight. On the fourth, a strange warrior, cased in mail, entered the lists, and vanquished the bravest of the combatants; his gallant bearing and handsome features enamoured the fair young queen of that high festival, and she blushed deeply when she hung the golden chain around the victor's neck, and kissed his lofty forehead. His countenance was clouded with sorrow, and as he came so he departed, none knew whither. Prince John (afterwards king), who had honoured the castle with his presence, became smitten by the charms of the high-born maiden, and basely endeavoured to obtain her for a mistress. The Baron Fitz-walter, her father, treated his proposals with The following description of this figure, (together just and natural indignation, which so enraged the with the annexed representations,) is derived from headstrong prince, that (taking advantage of his broGough's Sepulchral Monuments. On the head, which ther's absence in Palestine, where the greater part of reposes upon a cushion, is a covering like a woollen his followers were likewise fighting) he immediately night-cap. She has a collar of SS; a necklace of attacked Castle Baynard, and slew its owner: but pendents falling from a rich embroidered neckerchief; Matilda fled away to the green forest, and there, on a rich girdle, and long robes, the sleeves close to the the day following, was again met by the stranger wrists, and slit there. Her fingers are loaded with knight; his burnished steel was laid aside, and he rings, there being two on several of them. Her face was clad in Lincoln green, the archer's garb. He is round and full, but rather inexpressive. At her told the lady that he was Robin Hood, the outlawed head were two angels, now mutilated, and a dog on Earl of Huntingdon,-" at the mention of whose name each side her feet. According to the "Chronicle of the warrior trembled in his hall, and the ecclesiastic Dunmow," in the Monasticon, vol. ii. p. 76, she was turned pale, although reclining on the episcopal throne," buried between two columns in the south part of the--and that he would shield her innocence from the choir; but her effigy, with its slab, is now placed upon a gray altar tomb in the position before mentioned. The tomb is decorated with shields in quatrefoils, parted by pairs of arches, and evidently of a more modern style than the incumbent figures.

fierce and cruel ravisher. The prince discovered her retreat, and attacked the foresters; a sanguinary fray ensued, during which it is said that John and the lady (who was then in male attire) met and fought. The prince required her to yield, and she resolutely desired him to win her first, and so stoutly did she repulse him, that he was constrained to withdraw from the ungallant contest. This part of the story places Matilda in a somewhat unfeminine light, but great allowances must be made for the customs of that age, and the peculiar circumstances of her case. She afterwards married Robin Hood, and when king Richard restored him his earldom and estates, she became Countess of Huntingdon : when her husband was again outlawed by King John, she shared his misfortunes, and, at his death, took refuge in Dunmow

Priory (which appears to have been enriched by some members of her family), trusting to spend the residue of her days in peace. The tyrant, however, who had never forgotten her bravery in Sherwood forest, dispatched a gallant knight, one Robert de Medewe (the common ancestor of the present Earl Manvers, and of the writer of these "Notes"), with a token to the fair recluse,-a poisoned bracelet. Ignorant of the accursed deed he went to perform, Sir Robert arrived at the priory, and was respectfully and cordially received. Matilda had lost the bloom and vivacity of youth, but her mien was stately, and her person still imposing. The rough warrior felt the flame of love kindling in his bosom, but he strove to stifle it, and, bidding the lady a hasty adieu, speedily departed. Whilst on the road to London, his fond feelings waxed stronger and stronger the farther he proceeded from the object of them, and, at length, being unable any longer to curb his passion, he turned his horse's head, and retraced his way. It was night when he reached the priory, but the light of many tapers streamed through the windows of the adjoining church on the weary soldier, and the solemn dirge of death awoke the slumbering echoes. With fearful forebodings he entered the house of prayer, and there in the chancel, on a bier and covered with flowers, was stretched the lifeless body of the unfortunate Matilda The bracelet was on her wrist, it had eaten its way to the bone, and the fiery poison had dried her life blood. The flesh was ghastly pale, but a

heavenly smile irradiated her fine countenance: the REMARKS ON THE CHARACTER AND APPLICATION OF

priests were standing around, weeping, and the "Dies ira" died away on their quivering lips when the warrior entered. He flung himself upon the lady's corpse, invoking a thousand maledictions upon his own head. No persuasions could induce him to return to the camp and court, but, resigning his mail for the cowl and gown, he became a faithful brother of the order of St. Augustine.

AMONG the numberless discoveries to which the useful and ornamental arts are indebted, few are equal in importance to the invention of GLASS; an invention which has produced in none of those arts a greater change, or developed more striking beauties of combination, than in the department of Architecture. We cannot wonder at the feeling of surprise and admiration with which the ancient father beheld the rays of the rising sun streaming through the glazed chancelwindow, accustomed as he had been to the sight of a mere unfilled aperture, or at best to the insertion therein of a thin, semi-transparent plate of marble, or

Facing the monument of this hapless female is another, erected to the memory of Walter, first of the name, who died A. D. 1198, and was buried with Matilda Bohun, his second wife, in the choir. Sir Walter is clad in plate armour, beneath which is a leathern shirt: his hair radiates from a centre curling inwards; the legs are broken off at the knees: the of horn. But, great as was the accession of beauty lady wears a tiara, decorated with lace, ear-rings, and a necklace: their heads repose on cushions, and their hands are raised in the usual supplicatory attitude. On the north side of the chancel is a mural monument to the memory of Sir James Hallet, knight; and near it stands the Chair, in which the happy couple, who

and convenience which architectural science thus derived, it remained for further discovery to show that the very light of heaven might be intercepted in its passage, and made to display a new world of varied imagery and gorgeous colour. The earliest notice that we have of so splendid an effort of refinement is