Here must I fall, fast by the rolling main (Nor was the mutter'd spell* pronounc'd in vain, When rose th' infernal spirit, whilst by night The sorceress plied th` unutterable rite,) Here bid adieu to crowns, to cares, and strife, To Margaret and to joy, to love, and life.

But ere my body, on the cold beach spread,
Is mangled thrown, and number'd with the dead,
Let me, to sooth my sorrows, let me cast
One parting view on all my pleasures past,
Nor will my fate deny this transient stay,
Nor will my Margaret blame the lengthen'd lay.
In youthful bloom I plac'd my sole delight
In warlike exercise and feats of fight;
And, more mature, I left the listed plain,
And sought renown in tented fields to gain;
But when to Tours, thy residence, I came,
Unnumber'd beauties fann'd my rising flame;
I gaz'd in speechless rapture on thy charms,
Forgot the tented plain, the feats of arms,
Forgot the listed field, the marshal'd host,
And all the warrior in the lover lost.

Thus I, who 'scap'd the sword and javelin's power,
Launch'd by the foe in danger's darkest hour,
Who 'scap'd th' embattled war and ambush'd fight,
Who 'scap'd dire force by day, and fraud by night,
Undaunted by the woes that wait on arms,
Fall, vanquish'd fall, the victim of thy charms.

Oh! vale of Tours, and Loire, mæandering flood, On whose green bank my Margaret first I view'd,

Bol. Tell me what fates await the Duke of Suffolk ?
Sp. By water shall he die, &c.

See Shakespeare, 2d. Part of Henry VI. A. 1. §. 3.

Oh lovely stream! and oh enchanting grove! How often have you heard my tale of love! Mæandering Loire! how often hast thou seen This faded form upon thy banks of green, Seen me with folded arms and visage pale, Seen my despair, and heard my hapless tale! And she, the nymph that holds her airy reign 'Mid the steep rocks that tremble o'er the plain, Lone Echo, musing maid, was wont to stray Where'er I went, the partner of my way ; Whether I wander'd by the neighbouring tide, Or vent'rous climb'd the mountain's cultur'd side ; Or whether choice my wandering steps invite To where, unenvious of the mountain's height, Of lordships wide and princely treasures vain, The Benedictine* rears his stately fane: Aloft in air the gorgeous mansion springs, And towers disdainful of the pomp of kings: Where'er I wander'd, still the nymph was nigh, Answer'd my griefs, and gave me sigh for sigh. With what delight, amid the landscape gay, The slow stream winds his pleasurable way, With such delight my life's smooth current roll'd, By fate allow'd my Margaret to behold. And, ah ! so sad, so languid, and so slow, When doom'd by fate thy presence to forego! Whilst in mute wonder on thy face I gaze, Dire doubts distract, alarm me, and amaze; I think, I pause, and many a scheme revolve, Till at the last I fix'd my firm resolve;

Marmoutier, a noble convent of Benedictines of the regulation of St. Maur. This magnificent structure stands about half a league from Tours, on the banks of the river Loire, by the side of the cliff which skirts the river almost from Blois to Tours, and its lofty spire rises above the height of the rock.

Soon was my plan propos'd, and soon approv'd,
I woo'd for Henry, for myself I lov'd,

And gave, in change for thee, thy sire to reign
O'er fertile Anjou, and the fields of Maine.

Then straight, for love like mine ill brook'd delay,
To England's court I bent my hasty way,
And soon the tale to Henry's ear convey'd,
Whilst soft persuasion gave me all her aid;
He heard the oft' told tale with favouring ear,
And sigh'd in secret for the pictur'd fair:
I mark'd the gradual growth of young desire,
And added fuel to the rising fire;

I nurs'd the flame, and, when maturer grown,
I urg'd the timorous King that flame to own.
When the proud barons, insolent and vain,
Thy rank, thy country, and thyself disdain,
And when the noisy crowd, still prone to strife,
Scorn'd the bought nuptials, and the dowerless wife,
"Hence with the idle tale, enrag'd I cried,
Kingdoms are well exchang'd for such a bride,
It now alone remains to waft her o'er

From Gallia's coast to England's happier shore."

I spoke. Th' attendant lords, with zealous care, And costly art my princely train prepare;

Soon in her port my gallant vessel rode,
And soon receiv'd with joy her precious load.
And soon my beauteous queen was wafted o'er
From Gallia's coast to England's happier shore.

When bright in all her charms my Margaret came,
Faction was hush'd, and pride forgot to blame;
Thy beauty was the theme of every tongue,
Was prais'd by grave and gay, by old and young;
That winning air, that heavenly smile, disarms
E'en envy's self, enamour'd of thy charms;

She dwells in rapture on thy faultless face,
Majestic mein, and more than mortal grace.

How did thy charms thy Suffolk's bosom move!
How deeply did he drink the draught of love!
For not the crown that bound thy beauteous brow
Woke my warm wish, or drew the venal vow:
I scorn'd the pageant toys, for, bless'd with thee,
Ah, what were sceptres, what were crowns to me!
Nor gorgeous crowns, nor regal sceptres move;
I listen'd only to the voice of love.

But now, alas! far other thoughts arise, Far other scenes distract my closing eyes! For, ah! the ruthless ruffian chides my stay, And envious death denies this short delay; Denies me longer on the theme to dwell:

More lov'd than life, my beauteous Queen, farewell!

THE REASON FOR

TAKING DOWN THE IPSWICH CROSS

AT LENGTH DISCOVERED.

In 1812, it was deemed necessary, in furtherance of the improvements that were then taking place in the town, to pull down the Market Cross, which was effected with great difficulty, as the timber and every part of it were in most excellent preservation. As a remnant of antiquity, one cannot but regret its loss.

We have already seen that it was erected by Edmund Dandy in 1510: some further notices of it, extracted from the accounts of the Treasurer of the Corporation, may not be uninteresting.

Benjamin Osmond, by will dated June 1619, gave 50£. towards building the Cross. In 1628, 34£. was paid to the Town, in lieu of 50£. which was given by B. Osmond towards building of the new

Cross. Paid to Thomas Allen in part of the framing of the Cross, 23£. More paid to him by warrant for building the same Cross, 10£. More paid to said Allen in full of 38£. for framing the said Cross. Several entries are in the above accounts respecting the timber taken from Ulveston Hall lands for the use of the Cross, and of the sums paid by the corporation to Tooley's Charity for it. 10th. May, 1660, the Cross was ordered to be beautified for the proclamation of King Charles the IInd. and five or six great guns to be provided at the Common Quay; and to be discharged at the same time. 12th. April 1694, it was ordered, that a new Justice be set up on the Cross, and the Cross repaired, at the charge of the Town, 15th. April, 1723, ordered, that the town Treasurer repair the Market Cross at the charge of the Corporation; and this year, the thanks of the Corporation were ordered to Francis Negus, Esq. for his present of the Statue of Justice, which was brought from his seat at Dallinghoe. This gentleman represented the Borough in the Parliaments of 1717, 1722, and 1727. The Arms on the Cross, above each pillar, were those of Ipswich; of the families of Dandy, Bloss, Long, Sparrowe; and the two Tradesmen's marks of C. A.

and B. K. M.

The Cross was a large octagon building of wood; the roof being supported by eight pillars, and surmounted with a well-executed figure of Justice, with her usual attributes. It was twenty-seven feet diameter, and about fifty feet in height to the top of the figure. This figure has been since placed over the entrance of the New Corn-Exchange, having been first transformed into that of Ceres, by an exchange of the sword and scales for the sickle and wheat ears. This gave осса

sion to the following jeu d'esprit :

Upon the proud Agrarian race,

"Broken her sword, her scales uneven ;

"Resolv'd that corn again shall rise,

"Ceres the lofty space supplies,

"And holds her sample to the skies,

"While scorn'd Astræa flies to heaven!"