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ing, and something fell, and hit her arm, then she grew cold, and knew no more until she awoke in the peasant's hut.'

"A representation of the case having been made to the Earl of Ormond, that nobleman found what he wanted, a good pretext to make war on the Fitzgeralds, and, commissioned by Queen Elizabeth, proceeded, A.D. 1579, to lay siege to Strancally Castle. His forces were augmented by those of Condon, and such of the retainers of Conna as wished to avenge the death of their lord. The walls were defended to the last, but Desmond having discovered that his ruffian follower, Everard, meant to betray the postern gate, ordered him to be hung, whereupon, the band proved more true to their captain than their chief, and having put Desmond to death, loaded themselves with booty, and descending through the murdering hole, communicating with the secret chamber, manned a skiff lying at the foot of the cliffs, and silently dropped down with the current towards Youghal, and got clear off. The castle thus abandoned by the best of the garrison, was soon taken by assault; and as it was hateful to the kingdom for the crimes connected with it, was next day blown up by gunpowder placed in the secret passages to the room now shewn as the murdering hole."

"Now," said my friend, "bearing this history in your memory, do you not perceive a close resemblance between it and Spencer's description of the cruel Pollenti ? '

"His name is hight Pollenti; rightly so,
For that he is so puissant and strong,
That with his power he all doth overgo,

And makes them subject to his mighty wrong;
And by some sleight he eke doth underfong;

For on a bridge he custometh to fight,

Which is but narrow, but exceeding long;

And in the same are many trap-falls hight,

Through which the rider down doth fall, through oversight.

"And underneath the same a river flows,

This is both swift and dangerous, deepe, withal,

Into the which whomso he overthrowes

All destitute of help, doth headlong fall.

*

Then doth he take the spoils of them at will,
And to his daughter brings, that dwells thereby,
Who all that comes doth take, and therewith fill
The coffers of her wicked threasury;

Which she with wrongs hath heaped up so hy,
That many princes she in wealth exceeds,

And purchast all the country lying ny,

With the revenue of her plentuous meedes:

Her name is Numerous, agreeing with her deedes.'

The destruction of the castle is thus told, as it happened at Strancally.

"And, lastly, all that castle quite he razed,

Even from the sole of its foundation.

And all the hewn stones thereof defaced,

That there might be no hope of reparation.'

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"I think you have said enough my friend,' I replied, to prove your case, and you need not labour further, because you will find in the Fourth

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Stanza of the Book to which you have referred, the Poet himself calls it The castle of the Strond' and Lodge, in his Peerage,' refers to it as Stron Castle, so this makes a chain of evidence to fortify your view.'

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We rose, and scrambled over the ruins, gazing on the scene of desolation they presented, and allowing the mind to conjure up the forms and fashions of their times. Though in heaps, the fragments of Desmond's castle bid defiance to decay, and are likely to stand for many years, a memorial of man's wickedness, and a retributive vengeance if the tradition told me be true.

I find the powerful family of Fitzgerald of Desmond had several castles in this locality-Youghal, Imokilly, Decies, Moguly, in addition to the subject of our present sketch. How well their various seats are mentioned in a Poem entitled "The Geraldines," written by Thomas Daves, may be judged from the verse with which I close my paper.

"The Geraldines, the Geraldines, how royally they reigned,

O'er Desmond wide and rich Kildare, and foreign arts disdained,
Their swords made Knights, their banners waved, free was their bugle call,
O'er Glynn's green slopes, by Dingle's tide, at Decies and Youghall,
What joyous feasts, what Brehan lore, what minstrel feats there were,
In and around Maynooth's tall keep, and palace-filled Adare.
But not for harp or feast they stayed, when friend or kin was pressed,
And foeman fled, when Crom aboo,* bespoke their lance in rest.”

The war cry of the Fitzgeralds of Desmond.

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V.

Another owns that fair domain-
Another race! They cannot gain
The prestige of the last;

Nor can base lucre ever make

Sweet Derwentwater's depths forsake
The mem'ry of the past.*

IV.

Nor will old Keswick's simple race

Point out with pride rich Marshall's place—

Their tale is of the dead;

They'll guide you to the Lord's lone Isle-
They 'll paint the lady's sweet sad smile,
The last before she fled.†

VII.

They'll bid you reverently search
The relics of their ancient church,

And point to Ratcliff's tomb;

Where, though the pray'r now useless be,
You 're bid to pray in piety,

For mercy in his doom.‡

VIII.

With artless inbred taste they turn
From trim canal to rocky burn,

Or cat'ract in the fell;

So in their thoughts they'll ne'er resign

To parvenu wealth the ancient line

'Tis on the past they dwell.

IX.

Great Skiddaw still smiles o'er the scene,

But with a sadder shade I ween,

From bygone memory;

Whilst stern Scaw-fell frowns down the vale,

And sighs the breeze through Borrowdale,

On that which now must be.

*The property of the unfortunate Earl of Derwentwater, when he was heheaded, was settled on Greenwich Hospital. It has recently been sold, and purchased by Mr. Marshall, of Leeds.

†The wife of Lord Derwentwater is supposed to have effected her escape through a tremendous pass in the mountains, which is now known by the appellation of the 'Lady's Leap."

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In the church is a fine monument of the Ratcliff family, with figures of brass inlaid, and inscribed as follows:-" Of your charity pray for the soul of Sir John Ratcliff, and for the soul of Dame Alice, his wife; which Sir John died the 2d day of January, A.D. 1527, on whose soul Jesus have mercy." A copy of this inscription and the brass figure was taken off by the Clerk, and presented with much courtesy and interest to her to whom this little poem is addressed-having learned that she belonged to the same family.

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The guide who conducted the writer to the top of Skiddaw, and rowed us to the Lord's Isle, was a remarkably intelligent one, of the name of Graves. His father and grandfather had been guides before him. His voice was peculiarly sweet.

All the forfeited titles have been restored, execpting that of the Earldom of Derwentwater. The crest of the Ratcliff family is a black bull's head.

No eagles have been seen in these mountainous districts, so well adapted for their habitation, for some years. Steam has already invaded Windermere. It is to be hoped, with regard to Derwentwater, the idea here expressed may long be but a poetical license.

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