Gentle Zephyr, wing him over,

Tho' I ne'er behold him more;
With the breath of some young lover
Waft him to his native shore.

THE STREAMLET THAT FLOWED ROUND HER COT

From The Woodman "

THE streamlet that flowed round her cot
All the charms of my Emily knew;
How oft has its course been forgot,

While it passed, her dear image to view.

Believe me, the fond silver tide

Knew from whence it derived the fair prize, For silently swelling with pride,

It reflected her back to the skies.

JOHN JORDAN

OHN JORDAN must not be overlooked in a collection of Warwickshire poets. Known as "the Stratford Poet," he was born on 2nd October 1746, at Tiddington, in the parish of Alveston some two miles from Stratford-uponHe was the son of John Jordan, and it is reported that, though he had but little education, his mind turned early to literature, encouraged by a gift of Dugdale's Warwickshire. With such tastes, and living in an atmosphere so congenial for acquiring Shakespearean lore, the very town of the great "Stratford Poet" being so close, it is not strange that he was ill-content to apply himself solely to his trade of wheelwright, but spent his leisure in Shakespearean and antiquarian studies, reading the few books he possessed, and collecting many of the stories circulating round Shakespeare's boyhood-in fact, he was over-zealous, even to the extent of giving credence to myths!

Among those who wrote verses for the Shakespeare Jubilee of 1769 were several Warwickshire poets, including Richard Jago and John Huckell, and on this occasion John Jordan wrote his first poem, addressed to Garrick, Steward of the Festival, and so joined his praise to that of other "bards" of his shire in honouring the poet who wrote of their Shakespeare:

"The Bard of all Bards was a Warwickshire Bard."

The surroundings in which Jordan lived influenced the only poetical work he published separately, Welcombe

Hills, near Stratford-upon-Avon, published with the assistance of his friend, the Rev. Joseph Greene, in London, 1777, with a picture of the subject prefixed. These hills, lying to the west of Alveston, between that place and Stratford, and pitted with great entrenchments probably made by the Saxons, must often have attracted Jordan, and the wild and rugged country inspired his Muse, for he tells of days spent among the hills, not returning till eventide :

"To Stratford then he took his well-known way,
Sweetly reflecting on the objects of the day."

This country was also in the mind of Jago when he wrote his lines on the origin and formation of mountains, in Edge-Hill. The theme of Welcombe Hills goes back in time to the sixth century and the struggle between Saxon and Briton, and is intermingled with thoughts on the beauties of the surrounding country. Towards the close of the poem the poet writes apologetically of himself and his verse:

'Pleas'd in his E'sham vale, and lowly class,
He only drew from simple nature's glass;
'Twas she alone inspired his humble mind,
With history and vague tradition join'd."

Though Jordan's fame was little known beyond his native spot, where he was still remembered in Colvile's time as the poet Jordan," yet his knowledge of the neighbourhood of Stratford was of great interest and assistance to those visiting Shakespeare's shrine, and Edmund Malone, after a visit to Stratford, wrote to him on matters connected with the traditions of those parts. Later Jordan visited Malone in London in 1799, and left him his manuscripts at his death. At one time Malone

raised forty pounds for the benefit of Jordan. "The Stratford Poet was married, but his wife died the year before his visit to London. He died on 2nd July 1809, and lies in the charmed churchyard of Stratford, behind the Shakespeare monument. There is a tablet to his memory on the outside of the church.

Besides his verse he wrote Original Collections of Shakespeare and Stratford-on-Avon and Original Memoirs of the Families of Shakespeare and Hart. His writings all have the same note-Shakespeare and his county. Jordan was a truer Warwickshire man, if less of a poet, than many writers born in the shire.

R. M. INGERSLEY.

FAIRY RINGS

From "Welcombe Hills"

ON Welcombe Hills I tune my willing verse,
Point out their beauties, and their fame rehearse,
Their ancient fame shall elevate my lays,

A subject worthy of the Muse's praise.
Upon these Hills one pleasing morn I stray'd
To see what art and nature there display'd:
The DINGLES first attract my wondering sight;
Their grandeur gave astonishing delight.

Near to these chasms I trac'd my winding way,
Till to a fairy ring I chanc'd to stray:
This in my mind a novel fancy bred,
And with myself contemplating I said,
Perhaps 'twas here some hardy hero stood,
Engag'd some foe, and shed his hated blood

In single combat, for some virgin's charms:
Inspir'd with beauty here prevail'd his arms ;
The vital stream gush'd from the gaping wound,
And stain'd with crimson this fair figur'd round;
There clotted lay, 'til silver Cynthia's train
Lighted the fairies on the verdant plain,
With jocund revels here to frisk and play,
Free and unscorch'd by Sol's inclement ray.
Their music sounded soft, harmonious, sweet;
Around they skipp'd and danc'd with airy feet,
Till Oberon, their princely leader, stood
And look'd aghast, scenting the human blood!
He bid his Sprights their jollity forbear:
They in an instant stopp'd each tuneful air,
Cover'd the loathsome gore with grass and flow'rs,
And leaves collected from the neighb'ring bow'rs:
These rites perform'd, the elves, 'til rising day,

The act recorded in melodious lay;

The Ringlet then appear'd with brighter green
Than e'er before upon the turf was seen;

Its colour ever will unsoil'd remain

By sheep or oxen, grazing on the plain;

Succeeding springs its verdure will renew,

And spread fresh beauties to the shepherd's view.

VIEW FROM WELCOMBE HILLS

WHILE birds their joys in notes melodious tell,
And od'rous blossoms recreate the smell;