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East; the hall and principal apart-
ments on the North. A part of tellated mansion of Halnaker the buildings have been taken down are situated about four miles North- by order of the present owner; and east of the city of Chichester. Grose in the summer of 1904 the brick informs us the honour of Halnac, buildings on the East (or right side Hainaked, or Halnaker, was given by in the view) fell down. It stands on Henry 1. to Robert de Hay or Haya, a gentle decline on the South Downs, who dying without issue niale, it, with commanding a fine view of the sea in other estates, devolved to his heiress front, Highdown Hill on the East, Ciceley; she marrying Roger de St. and the Isle of Wight on the West, John, the son of Adam de Port, and the spire of Chichester Cathedral conMabel the heir of Robert de St. John, tributing to enrich the scene. The carried it into that family, where it surrounding park is well wooded with continued till the 3d of Edward III. venerable oaks, chesuut, beech, and but how long after is uncertain. In maple, and is at this time well stocked the 31st of Henry VIII. it was the with deer. Since the death of Lady property of Thomas Lord de la Warr, Derby (whose deeds of charity and whom that king partly obliged to ex- hospitality are yet held in grateful rechange it with divers other estates, membrance, the mansion has been for the site, circuit, and lands, of the slighted, and inhabited by poor dissolved abbey of Wherwell. It re- people, and is now going fast to demained in the Crown till the 19th of cay. The annexed (Plate I.) shews the Elizabeth, when that queen granted hall and principal apartments on the it to Henry Lord Arundel for his life, North side of the court yard. T. S. and afterwards to the Lord and Lady Lumley, and their heirs. In the 29th
Feb 13. of this reign, it was alienated by Lady
READ in your last Supplement, p. Lumley to the Morleys, and after 658, with the deepest regret, an wards belonged to the Earl of Derby, account of the death of Dr. Leyden, who obtained it with his wife, the at Cornelis, in Batavia, whither he daughter and heir of Sir William Mor- bad accompanied Lord Minto in the ley. In 1752 it was bequeathed by Lady expedition to Java. I only know Derby to Sir Thomas Acklam, who him by his poetry; but that poetry sold it to his Grace the Duke of Rich- was of the very purest and brightest mond, in whose possession it now re water. His Scenes of Infancy, de mains. The great hall of this man- scriptive of Teviot Dale, Edinb. 1803, sion is enriched with curious carving, 12mo, constitute a poem, which, in done about the reign of Henry vul. genuine feeling and fancy, as well as where, besides various ornaments, are
in harmony and elegance of compoescutcheons of the arms of the De la şition, can encounter very few rivals Warrs, Camois, &c. and in a pannel near in the English language. Perhaps it the centre of the room, the arms of is yet less generally known than its England. Over the doors leading from merit demands. The author's death the ball to the pantry and cellar, are will consecrate it, and place it half-length figures of men holding among the most finished productions cups, and seemingly inviting strangers of the British Muse. It touches so many to partake of the hospitality of the of the genuine strings of the lyre with house. Over the head of one is a la- the hand of Inspiration, it draws forth bel containing these words, LES BIEN so many tender notes, and carries VENUE, and over the other, COME in our eyes and our hearts so utterly AND DRINGE.
among those scenes with which the The inansion was built round a real Bard is conversant, that we, for court-yard, the entrance under an a moment, enjoy some portion of the embattled gateway on the South side, creative powers of the poet himself. with a square tower at the South West Nowhere laboured, studied, or affectangle, (the castle form and entrance ed, he writes in a stream of nate el was not yet disused, and the warlike eloquence, which shews the entire baron cast a lingering look at his for predominance of bis emotion over his mer grealness.) The chapel, now in art. ruins, and other apartments on the His premature fate gives an addiGent. MAG. May, 1812.
tional interest to many plaintive pas- Why didst thou quit the peasant's simple sages of bis enchanting poem. At the lot?
[built cot; end of the first part, let the Reader, Why didst thou leave the peasant's turfif he can, peruse the following exqui- The antient graves, where all thy fathers site lines without a pang of the
(mur'd by ?
And Teviot's stream, that long has murdeepest sorrow and regret :
And wewhen death so long has closed " Ah! dear Aurelia! when this arm
our eyes, shall guide
(side, How wilt thou bid us from the dust arise, Thy twilight steps no more by Teviot's
And bear our mouldering bones across When I, to pine in Eastern realms, have
[of stain? gone,
Calone, From vales, that knew our lives devoid And years have pass’d, and thou remain'st
Rash youth! beware, thy home-bred virWilt thou, still partial to thy youthful
[name, And sweetly sleep in thy paternal grave!" Regard the turf, where first I carv'd thy And think thywandererfar beyond the sea, With what pathos has this delightFalse to his heart, was ever true to thee? ful Poet anticipated his own fate! Why bend,so sad, that kind regretful view, His friends too presaged, that when As ev'ry moment were my last adieu?
he crossed the Atlantic, his wild adAh! spare that tearful look, 'tis death to
venturous spirit would never permit
[for thee. Nor break the tortur'd heart that bleeds of our softest and most refined affec
him to return in safety. Dear inaster That snowy cheek, that moist and gelid tions ; magician, w'so canst command
brow, Those quivering lips, that breathe the un
all the vivid stores of imagery, which These eyes, that still with dimming play upon our youthful fancies,
tears o'erflow, [ny woe. though thy bones moulder in remote Will haunt me when thou canst not see islands of the East among barbarous Not yet, with fond, but self-accusing pain, foreign tribes, yet thy memory shall Mine eyes, reverted, linger o'er the main; ever be consecrated by tby country But, sad, as he that dies in early spring, men, as long as genius or sensibility When flowers begin to blow, and larks exist among them! Thou hast not to sing,
[heart, lived in vain; nor have all the visions When Nature's joy a moment warms his ofthybrilliant mind vanished with thee! And makes it doubly hard with life to part, I hear the whispers of the dancing gale, the treasures and internal movements
The perilous task of delineating And, fearful, listen for the flapping sail; of a richly gifted intellect, is best Seek in these natal shades a short relief; proved by the few who have attempt And steal a pleasure from maturing grief." ed it. The forms are so evanescent,
The close of the fourth part, which they so easily elude all common lan. ends the poem, is still more beautiful
guage, that it requires a sight not and affecting:
dazzled by the sun, the clearest head, “ByFancy wrapt,where tombs are crusted and the simplest yet most vigorous gray,
expression, to perceive and grasp them. I seem by moon-illumin'd graves to stray, It requires an enthusiasm, a habit of Where, 'mid the flat and nettle-skirted abstractio and above all, a head
stones, My steps remove the yellow crumbling tercourse with the world. The living
[bones and heart utterly untainted by its inThe silver moon, at midnight cold and still,
waters of the Musc are deadened by
[hill; Looks, sad and silent, o'er yon Western the least tinge of a worldly infusion. While large and pale the ghostly struc
Dr. Leyden's “ Scenes of Infancy". tures grow,
bear marks of all these merits. Rear'd on the confines of the world be It is true that this accomplished Is that dull sound the hum of Teviot's writer sometimes reminds us of those stream?
[fire's gleam, who have gone before him. He often Is that blue light the moon's, or tombé catches the tones of Goldsmith, and By which a mouldering pile is faintly seen, sometimes of Collins ; but he is more The old deserted church of Hazel-dean, rich and picturesque than the fornier,' Where slept my fathers in their natal
and more moral and pathetic than clay
(away? the latter. Till Téviot's waters roll'd their bones Their feeble voices from the stream they Walter Scott on their congenial pur
The Poet thug addresses his friend raise “ Rash youth! unmindful of thy early suits at the end of the secoud pari :
“O Scott! with whom, in youth's sere
“ When we retrace once more the paths nest prime,
(rhyme, Of Childhood's flowery scenes.” I wove, with careless hand, the fairy
To the feelings arising from those Bade chivalry's barbaric pomp return, objects which were first presented to And heroes wake from ev'ry mouldering the eye “when life was new," as few
urn ! Thy powerful verse, to grace the courtly of them, or preserved them with
have received a stronger impression hall, Shall many a tale of elder time recall,
greater care than myself, so have I reThe deeds of knights, the loves of dames peatedly paid them the most minute proclaim,
[fame. and ample tributes of commemoraAnd give forgotten bards their former tion both public and private. The Enough for me, if Fancy wake the shell, next impressions of this nature are To Eastern minstrels strains like thine to those which have been made upon the tell;
[restore, mind by the places and persons Till saddening memory all our haunts amongst which we have passed the The wild-wood walks by Esk’s romantic succeeding period of youth of these shore,
[to fail impressions, I experience at the preThe circled hearth, which ne'er was wont
sent moment some that are extremeIn cheerful joke, or legendary tale. Thy mind, whose fearless frankness ly interesting, although, from the nought could move, [love.
many years that have elapsed since Thy friendship, like an elder brother's my last renewal of them, they are While from each scene of early life I part, become inevitably of a mixed and True to the beatings of this ardent heart, opposite nature, producing, at alWhen, half-deceas'd, with balf the world most every step, the alternate sensabetween,
[green; tions of pleasing and painful even in My name shall be unmention'd on the the same dwellings; where I meet, When years combine with distance, let perhaps, one or more of the few surme be
viving friends of my early days that By all forgot, remember'd yet by thee!" I last beheld in the bloom and activity
of youth, to whom advancing age has Essuy - on revisiting the Scenes of given the pallid check or the trem
Youth, and commemorating the de- bling step, and marked their brows,
ceased Companions of that period. like my own, with the strong lines of “ And, many a year elaps’d, return to grief or care, so as to cause a momenview
[hawthorn grew." tary hesitation of the mind, before it Where once the cottage stood, the can be induced to admit their identity,
GOLDSMITH. and which, when confirmed by indu« Or Ocean's waves successive flow bitable proofs of recognition, brings in just gradations to the shore.” C. with it the recital not only of many
Mr.URBAN, New Romney, March 7. a joyous but also many a mournful THERE are few, if any, of the ex. event, which an interval of thirty or power to interest the mind or affect duce. the heart so deeply as those which we On this and other occasions I have derise from returning after long ab- derived from the correspondence you sence to a place in which we have have done me the honour to admit on passed our early days. That of our your respectable pages, the gratificavativity in particular, as it stands first tion of finding that i have been oftener in the order of time, so is it cominonly, thought of by distant and long sepaindeed almost invariably, connected rated friends than I should otherwise with the warmest sentiments of at. have been, and that it has kept alive tachment to eyery well-remembered in them an interest in the progressive object whether animate or inanimate, circumstances of iny life, to which I which never fail to advance their ap- owe, perhaps, in many instances, the propriate claims, and forcibly engage favourable and friendly reception I a much greater portion of regard and have every where experienced from attention than ever we felt before, the surviving acquaintance of my or ever should have known, but for younger days. This, with me, is an that dormant power of attraction object of inuch superior considerawhich long-continued absence awa- tion to that of any literary credit I kens or creates in alınost every humau have the least pretensions to aspire breast,
to; whatever may have been con
ceived or affected to be thought of presents an awful and impressive conme in respect to the frequent publi- sideration of that rapid stream of cation of my sentiments; which hav- time by which they have been carried jug been on subjects invariably com: on to the ocean of eternity. The ing from and addressed to the heart, reader will perceive that I have I have the pleasure to be convinced, adopted this idea from one of Addihave met with that approbation from son's Spectators, in which he introthose whom I most wish to interest, duces a very fine allegorical picture of which I hay ever been far more so human life, and I have never met with licitous to obtain than any distinction any thing more appropriate to my that could be acquired by genius or present subject. learning, were I possessed of either. The sca is an object which, even
In revisiting the place I date from, from its magnitude alone, is one of f* How many fond memorials rise
thegrapdest on the theatre of Nature ; From every spot I see !"
and, connected as it is in the minds of And the painful apprehension ex
most men with the remembrance of
some deceased or far distant friend, pressed in the succeeding lines
affords the most interesting, sublime, " But who can tell if former friends
and instructive contemplations ; not Will e'er remember me."-CARȚER.
only to those who “remain in ships, has been happily done away.
and occupy their business in great The house in which I passed six waters,” of whom it is justly remarkyears of my early life, from the age of ed in the inspired writings that they fisteen to twenty-one, as a clerk in the more especially “ see the works of the profession I had chosen, or rather was Lord, and his wonders in the deep;" chosen for me, is one of the most re but also those who stand securely on spectable description for a country the shore, when « at his word the town, detached from other houses and stormy wind ariseth, which lifteth commanding, in frout, a pleasant view up the waves thereof,” and behold of the sea, and from a side window their fellow creatures, in utterdismay, above, at which my writhg-desk was “ carried up to the heaven, and down placed, a prospect of the Sussex hills again to the depths ;" or when they in the neighbourhood of my present are awakened in a tempestuous night residence, with the conspicuous and from that repose
on their beds, well-remembered object of Farleigh which a firm habitation and every church, or what I have always taken external requisite for safety and and still believe to be so, though I comfort can supply, when, amidst all am told it is questionable. It was im: this security in their own persons, possible for me to behold once more they wake to the consideration of even the exterior of this dwelling, those fearful dangers to which they which I fipd but little altered, with know so many of the human race, and out a grateful respect to the memory possibly some of their dearest relaof my old master (an obsolete term, Í tives, are exposed “in an hour like believe, with clerks of the present day) this;" it is surely impossible for a from whom I constantly received the mind of common sensibility not to be most liberal treatment, and every rea- seriously alarmed with apprehension sonable indulgence; a still more cor: and compassion for them, not to ofdial recollection of his nephew and fer up an earnest prayer for their decontemporary clerk arose to enforce liverance, and to praise the Lord for its peculiar claim, of whom I can his goodness when he maketh the truly say that he possessed the warm storm to cease.” Many a night of est heart, the most engaging manners, this description have I felt the most and was in all respects worthy of a firm alarming inquietudes for all who are and lasting friendship which existed subjected to the perils of the sea, and between us; ou his part to the latest in particular for one inexpressibly hour of life, and will continue on dear to my paternal affections, who, mine undiminished as long as I retain i bless God, was safely conducted by the tender but now mournful remem his providence over the trackless þrance of his estimable qualities, and deep, although he afterwards fell of our summer evening walks on the victim to the destructive climate of a sea shore, which, in regard to him and distant country. other dçar companions of my youth,
Having contemplated the sca on
this terrific point of view, I return to impending terrors of that inevitable those pensive reflections excited by hour which is to fix their fate for the memory of my former young ever.
W. B. companions, and of him in particular with whom I was accustomed to enjoy Mr. URBAN, Worcester,March 17. the summer evenings to which I have H from a learned and highly realluded, when the gentle undulation of its surface responded to the soft and spected friend at Exeter, I shall be plaintive notes of his flute, while we greatly obliged by your inserting, in sat togther on a seat which we had your valuable Miscellany, the followfixed in a favourite spot upon the ing extract, and iny comments upon beach, and beheld the distant ships it. I have never seen the work pursuing their course on the wide alluded to. expanse of waters.” Those ships, or “A modern French Philosopher rather, I should say, the greater part (I believe a Mons. Lambert) has pubof them that were embarked therein, lished a theory of the heavens, which have long since, in all human proba. seems to contain some new thoughts. bility, finished their repeated voyages; He supposes that there is one grand some, doubtless, found a grave in the centre in the middle of the universe ; overwhelming element, others reach- that the centre of our system is not ed their destined ports. May those the sun, as generally supposed, but an who have passed “the waves of this opaque spot, which reflects a pale troublesonie world experience the light in the constellation Orion ; blessing implored for them at their around which centre the sun revolves birth, and be now at rest" in the land in a small orbit, besides revolving on of everlasting life ; and all who are his own axis ; that beyond our sysyet striving amidst its tumultuous tem other systems revolve round their hillows, seek their final repose on proper centres ; all which centres he “the rock of ages,” the only roek conceives to be opaque bodies ; that which can for safety be approached in an aggregate of these systems, conthe hour of danger and distress. sisting of a certain number, each hav
Before I leave a place in which ing its own sun, stars, &c. the inferior every surrounding object has called drawn after the superior by the law forth these reflections, and inade that of attraction, move together round a impression on my mind which is inse- common centre; and, finally, that the parably attached to the remembrance whole world, or universe of systems, of our young associates in the latter moves round the grand universal cenpart of life, I will close the subject tre. This last idea strikes me as prewith a serious admonition to those senting to the mind so grand, so simwho are now forining their early ple, so sublime, and so harmonious a friendships. Without supposing that spectacle, as gradually amuses the they are either absolutely associates imagination, and raises the thoughts in habits of dissipation, or wholly ex- to the contemplation of the stupendempt from youthful error, let ihem ous works of the adorable Author of learn from the experience of all who those innumerable worlds beyond have preceded them in life, that exact- worlds, and systems beyond systems." ly as their present conduct and pur Now, Mr. Urban, from this extract, suits are influenced by the principles so elegantly expressed by my friend, of virtue or of vicę, will be their con- (not presuming to follow him through scious satisfaction or their lasting re- the whole of his heavenly reverie, but gret for many a distant day, when confining myself solely to what is ap. time shall have swept away the com- parent in our own system, as proper panions of their youth, and left them only for man to scan) I certainly to the feelings which will certainly think that Lambert's discovery is so arise whenever they return to the very reasonable, that it has shaken, place of their former residence, and though, perhaps, not totally over, especially if it leads them to a solitary thrown, the Copernican or Newton: walk on the sea shore, where the re- ian system ; because that system, in gular succession of advancing and re- supposing the sun himself to be the ceding waves affords a striking em- centre, and at the same time admitblem of successive generations, and ting him to move in the ecliptic, rewill anticipate the blissful peace or fules itself. For bow does it move?