Patroclus, the same reversed.

Amaryllis, Splendid. Q. A Fountain in a Grove?
Agathon, Good.

Agenor, Most Manly.

Amyntas, Amyntor, a Helper or Defender.

Callisthenes, Beautiful Strength. The name of the philosopher who was put to death for refusing to pay divine honours to Alexander. Euphranor, Well Minded, Chearfully Disposed.

Pamphilus, Pamphila, a Friend to All.

Leuconoe, White Minded, Perfectly Simple and Sincere.
Lysander, a Freer of Men.

Philemon, One Who Loves Us.

Philoxenus, a Lover of Hospitality.

Philomusus, Philomuse, a Lover of the Muses.

Elycera, Elycerium, Sweet.

Chloe, Green Grass.

Galatea, Milky, Milk-white.

Hylas, Fond of the Woods, Sylvan.

Leander, Polished.

NAMES EXCLUSIVELY LATIN,,

Yet mostly from a Greek root.

Sylvanus, Sylvius, Ital. Sylvio; the same as Hylas.

Stella, a Star.

Feronia, Bearing. The Goddess of Copses.

Pomona, Fruity. The Goddess of Orchards.

Hortensius, Fond of Gardens. The Italians still have Hortensia ;

Fr. Hortense.

Aurora, Golden. The Goddess of Morning.

Aurelius, Aurelia, Sunny-Golden.

Veronica, True Likeness.

Scipio, Walking-stick. A name first given to Pullius Cornelius of the Scipio Family, for leading about his blind father. Still kept in Italy, as in the instance of Scipione Maffei.

Flaminius, for Pilaminius, Hat-wearing, in allusion to the custom of Numa's priests. A good name for the family of the De Courcys, Lords Kinsale, who, for overthrowing a foreign champion in days of old, have the privilege of wearing their hats in the royal presence.

Camillus, the same as Casmillus, a name of Mercury, we know not of what signification.

Æmilius, Urbane, Affable, Sociable. We take this opportunity of solving our query respecting the name of Emily (see Amelia) which undoubtedly is the feminine of Amilius.

Chiariella, Little Clear One.

Angela, Angelica, Angel, Angelic.

Ginevra, Gineura, the Juniper. The name of Ariosto's mistress.
Fiordiligi, Flower of Lily.

Fiordispina, Flower of Thorn. A good name for an infant welcomed in the midst of distress.

Bianca, White, Very Fair.

Graziosa, Graceful or Gracious.

Erminia, Fond of Solitude? or from Ermine?

Alba, the Dawn, Fair as Daylight.

Rosalba, Rosy Dawn, or White Rose.

Rosabella, Beautiful Rose.

Rosetta, Rosalia, Rosina, Little Rose. Fr. Rosette, Rosalie.
Rosaura, Air of Roses.

NAMES FROM THE ENGLISH POETS.

Una, the Only One. Unless it came from the Irish Oonagh, of which we know not the signification.

Amoret, a Little Love.

Florimel, Honey of Flowers.

Belphœbe, Fair Phoebe.

Marinel, of the Sea.

Elf, Elfin, Elfilin, Elfinore, Quick, Nimble Spirit.

Alma, Genial, Cherishing.

Calidore, Fine Gift, or Finely Gifted.

Calantha, Beautiful Flower.

Ariel is a Hebrew word, we forget of what meaning; but the reader may find it, if we remember, in Heywood's Hierarchie of Angels. The airy sound of it admirably suits the "delicate" sprite of the Tempest. Miranda, One to be Admired.

Silvia, see Hylas or Sylvanus.

Rosalind. We know not the etymology of Lind. But Shakspeare's heroine will warrant the name without the necessity of a meaning. Viola, a Violet.

Perdita, Lost; a Foundling.

Imogen. We believe an old German name; but are ignorant of the etymology.

Cordelia, Cordial. Unless it originally meant, with another accent, Heart of Leah.

Juliet, Little Julia

Pamela, properly called Pamèla, All Apples.

Oriana, some allusion to Gold or Sun-rise.

Philaster, Star-lover.

Astrophel, the same.

Earine, Vernal.

Orders received by the Booksellers, by the Newsmen, and by the Publisher, JOSEPH APPLEYARD, No. 19, Catherine-street, Strand.-Price 2d.

Printed by C. H. REYNELL, No. 45, Broad-street, Golden-square, London.

THE INDICATOR.

There he arriving round about doth flie,
And takes survey with busie, curious eye:
Now this, now that, he tasteth tenderly.
SPENSER.

No. XX.-WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 23rd, 1820.

RONALD OF THE PERFECT HAND.

[The following tale is founded upon a tradition in Mrs. Grant's Superstitions of the Highlands. It was originally intended to be written in verse; which will account for it's present appearance.]

THE stern old shepherd of the air,

The spirit of the whistling hair,
The wind, has risen drearily
In the Northern evening sea,
And is piping long and loud

To many a heavy upcoming cloud,-
Upcoming heavy in many a row,
Like the unwieldy droves below
Of seals, and horses of the sea,
That gather up as drearily,
And watch with solemn-visaged eyes
Those mightier movers in the skies.

Tis evening quick;-tis night:―the rain
Is sowing wide the fruitless main,

Thick, thick ;-no sight remains the while
From the farthest Orkney isle,

No sight to sea-horse, or to seer,

But of a little pallid sail,

That seems as if 'twould struggle near,
And then as if it's pinion pale
Gave up the battle to the gale.
Four chiefs there are of special note,
Labouring in that earnest boat;
Four Orkney chiefs, that yesterday
Coming in their pride away
From the smote Norwegian king,
Led their war-boats triumphing
Straight along the golden line
Made by morning's eye divine.

2nd Edition.

1

Stately came they, one by one,
Every sail beneath the sun,
As if he their admiral were
Looking down from the lofty air,
Stately, stately through the gold.-
But before that day was done,
Lo, his eye grew vexed and cold;
And every boat, except that one,
A tempest trampled in it's roar;

And every man, except those four,

Was drenched and driving, far from home, Dead and swift, through the Northern foam.

Four are they, who wearily

Have drunk of toil two days at sea;

Duth Maruno, steady and dark,
Cormar, Soul of the Winged Bark;
And bright Clan Alpin, who could leap
Like a torrent from steep to steep;
And he, the greatest of that great band,
Ronald of the Perfect Hand.

Dumbly strain they for the shore,
Foot to board, and grasp on oar,
The billows, panting in the wind,
Seem instinct with ghastly mind,
And climb like crowding savages
At the boat that dares their seas.
Dumbly strain they, through and through,
Dumbly, and half blindly too,

Drenched, and buffeted, and bending

Up and down without an ending,

Like ghostly things that could not cease
To row among those savages.

Ronald of the Perfect Hand

Has rowed the most of all that band;
And now he's resting for a space
At the helm, and turns his face
Round and round on every side
To see what cannot be descried,
Shore, nor sky, nor light, nor even
HOPE, whose feet are last in heaven.
Ronald thought him of the roar
Of the fight the day before,

And of the young Norwegian prince
Whom in all the worryings

And hot vexations of the fray,
He had sent with life away,

Because he told him of a bride

That if she lost him, would have died;

And Ronald then, in bitter case,
Thought of his own sweet lady's face,
Which upon this very night

Should have blushed with bridal light,
And of her downward eyelids meek,
And of her voice, just heard to speak,
As at the altar, hand in hand,
On ceasing of the organ grand,
"Twould have bound her, for weal or woe,
With delicious answers low.

And more he thought of, grave and sweet,
That made the thin tears start, and meet
The wetting of the insolent wave;
And Ronald, who though all so brave,
Had often that hard day before
Wished himself well housed on shore,

Felt a sharp impatient start

Of home-sick wilfulness at heart,

And steering with still firmer hand,

As if the boat could feel command,

Thrilled with a fierce and forward motion,

As though 'twould shoot it through the ocean.

"Some spirit," exclaimed Duth Maruno, "must pursue us, and perpetually urge the boat out of it's way, or we must have arrived by this time at Inistore."* Ronald took him at his word, and turning hastily round, thought he saw an armed figure behind the stern. His anger rose with his despair; and with all his strength he dashed his arm at the moveless and airy shape. At that instant a fierce blast of wind half turned the boat round. The chieftains called out to Ronald to set his whole heart at the rudder; but the wind beat back their voices, like young birds into the nest; and no answer followed it. The boat seemed less and less manageable, and at last to be totally left to themselves. In the intervals of the wind they again called out to Ronald, but still received no answer. One of them crept forward, and felt for him through the blinding wet and darkness. His place was void.

"It was

a ghost," said they, "which came to fetch him to the spirits of his fathers. Ronald of the Perfect Hand is gone, and we shall follow him as we did in the fight. Hark! The wind is louder and louder: it is louder and many-voiced. Is it his voice which has roused up the others? Is he calling upon us, as he did in the battle, when his followers shouted after his call?"

It was the rocks of an isle beyond Inistore, which made that multitudinous roaring of the wind. The chieftains found that they were not destined to perish in the mid ocean; but it was fortunate for them that the wind did not set in directly upon the island, or they would have been, dashed to pieces upon the rocks. With great difficulty they stemmed their way obliquely; and at length were thrown violently to

1

The old name for the Orkneys.