"To penury extreme, and grief, The chieftain fell a lingering prey; I heard his last few faultering words, Such as with pain I now convey. ""To Sele's sad widow bear the tale Nor let our horrid secret rest; Give but his corse to sacred earth, Then may my parting soul be blest.' "Dim waxed the eye that fiercely shone, And faint the tongue that proudly spoke And weak that arm, still raised to me, Which oft had dealt the mortal stroke. "How could I then his mandate bear Or how his last behest obey? A rebel deemed, with him I fled; With him I shunned the light of day. "Proscribed by Henry's hostile rage, My country lost, despoiled my land, Desperate, I fled my native soil, And fought on Syria's distant strand. "O, had thy long lamented lord The holy cross and banner viewed, Died in the sacred cause! who fell Sad victim of a private feud! "Led, by the ardour of the chace, Far distant from his own domain; From where Garthmaelan spreads her shades, The Glyndwr sought the opening plain. "With head aloft, and antlers wide, A red buck roused, then crossed in view, Stung with the sight, and wild with rage, Swift from the wood fierce Howel flew. "With bitter taunt, and keen reproach, He, all impetuous, poured his rage, And bade him loud the battle wage. They fought; and doubtful long the fray! And its last act all dreadful sound. "How could we hope for wished retreat Scorched by the lightning's livid glare And all its shrivelled arms were bare. "Be this, I cried, his proper grave! (The thought in me was deadly sin.) Aloft we raised the hapless chief, And dropped his bleeding corpse within." A shriek from all the damsels burst, That pierced the vaulted roofs below; While horror-struck the lady stood, A living form of sculptured woe. With stupid stare, and vacant gaze, He led them near the blasted oak, And proudly decked their slaughtered lord. They bore the corse to Vener's shrine, With holy rites, and prayers addressed; Nine white-robed monks the last dirge sang, And gave the angry spirit rest. It must be remembered that the real history of Howel Sele's death is to be collected from Mr. Pennant's account of their sudden feud already related; though he by no means distinctly states whether Glyndwr caused him to be placed in the oak after he had been slain, or "immured" him alive and left him to perish. It is rather to be inferred that he was condemned by his kinsmen to the latter fate. According to Pennant he perished in the year 1402, and we see that his living burial place survived him, pierced and hallowed by the hand of time, upwards of four centuries. SIR PHILIP SIDNEY'S OAK. In an elegant volume called “Sylvan Sketches, a companion to the park and the shrubbery, with illustrations from the works of the poets by the author of the Flora Domestica," there is a delightful assemblage of poetical passages on the oak, with this memorial of a very celebrated one: "An oak was planted at Penshurst on the day of sir Philip Sidney's birth, of which Martyn speaks as standing in his time, and measuring twenty-two feet round. This tree has since been felled, it is said by mistake; would it be impossible to make a similar mistake with regard to the mistaker? "Several of our poets have celebrated this tree: Ben Jonson in his lines to Penshurst, says,— Thou hast thy walks for health as well as sport; Thy mount to which thy Dryads do resort, Where Pan and Bacchus their high seats have made, Beneath the broad beech and the chesnut shade, That taller tree which of a nut was set, At his great birth where all the muses met. There in the writhed bark are cut the names Of many a sylvan taken with his flames.' "It is mentioned by Waller : 5 Go, boy, and carve this passion on the bark Of yonder tree, which stands the sacred mark Of noble Sidney's birth.' Tra "This tree was frequently called the 'bare oak,' by the people of the neighbourhood, from a resemblance it was supposed to bear to the oak which gave name to the county of Berkshire. dition says, that when the tenants went to the park gates as it was their custom to do to meet the earl of Leicester, when they visited that castle, they used to adorn their hats with boughs from this tree. Within the hollow of its trunk was a seat which contained five or six persons with ease and convenience." THE OAK OF MAMRE. We are told that this oak was standing in the fourth century. Isidore affirms that when he was a child in the reign of the emperor Constantius, he was shown a turpentine tree very old, which declared its age by its bulk, as the tree under which Abraham dwelt; that the heathens had a surprising veneration for it, and distinguished it by an honourable appellation.* Some affirm that it existed within the last four centuries. Bayle, art. Abraham. At the dispersion of the Jews under Adrian, about the year 134, "an incredible number of all ages and sexes were sold at the same price as horses, in a very famous fair called the fair of the turpentine tree: whereupon the Jews had an abhorrence for that fair." St. Jerome mentions the place at which the Jews were sold under the name of " Abraham's tent;" where, he says, "is kept an annual fair very much frequented." This place Mamre's fertile plains," is alleged to have been the spot where Abraham entertained the angels.* on NATURALISTS' CALENDAR. Mean Temperature... 63 50. July 28. ST. DECLAN. The festival of this saint, who was the first bishop of Ardmore, in the county of Waterford, is held on the twenty-fourth of the month. The brief memoir of St. Declan, by Alban Butler, did not seem to require notice of him on that day; but the manner wherein the feast was celebrated in 1826, is so remarkably particularized in an Irish paper, as to claim attention. Ardmore and its Patron. St. Declan is represented to have been the friend and companion of St. Patrick, and, according to tradition, Ardmore was century by St. Declan, who was born in an episcopal see, established in the fifth this county, and was of the family of the Desii. He travelled for education to Rome, resided there for some years, was afterwards ordained by the pope, returned to his own country about the year 402, and about that time founded the abbey and was made bishop of Ardmore. He lived to a great age; and his successor, St. Ulthan, was alive in the year 550. A stone, a holy well, and a dormitory, in the churchyard, still bear the name of St. Declan. "St. Declan's stone" is on the beach; it is a large rock, resting on two others, which elevate it a little above the ground. On the twenty-fourth of July, the festival of the saint, numbers of the lowest class do penance on their bare knees around the stone, and some, with Bayle, art. Barcochebas. great pain and difficulty, creep under it, in expectation thereby of curing or preventing, what it is much more likely to create, rheumatic affections of the back. In the churchyard is the "dormitory of St. Declan," a small low building, held in great veneration by the people in the neighbourhood, who frequently visit it in order to procure some of the earth, which is supposed to cover the relics of the saint.* On the twenty-fourth of July, 1826, several thousand persons of all ages and both sexes assembled at Ardmore. The greater part of the extensive strand, which forms the western side of the bay, was literally covered by a dense mass of people. Tents and stands for the sale of whiskey, &c. were placed in parallel rows along the shore; the whole at a distance bore the appearance of a vast encampment. Each tent had its green ensign waving upon high, bearing some patriotic motto. One of large dimensions, which floated in the breeze far above the others, exhibited the words "Villiers Stuart for ever." At an early hour, those whom a religious feeling had drawn to the spot, commenced their devotional exercises by passing under the holy rock of St. Declan. The male part of the assemblage were clad in trowsers and shirts, or in shirts alone; the females, in petticoats pinned above the knees, and some of the more devout in chemises only. Two hundred and ninety persons of both sexes thus prepared, knelt at one time indiscriminately around the stone, and passed separately under it to the other side. This was not effected without considerable pain and difficulty, owing to the narrowness of the passage, and the sharpness of the rocks. Stretched at full length on the ground on the face and stomach, each devotee moved forward, as if in the act of swimming, and thus squeezed or dragged themselves through. Upwards of eleven hundred persons of both sexes, in a state of half nudity, were observed to undergo the ceremony in the course of the day. A reverend gentleman, who stood by part of the time, was heard to exclaim, "O, great is their faith." Several of their reverences passed and re-passed to and from the chapel close by the "holy rock," during the day. The "holy rock," of so great veneration, is believed to be endued with Ryland's History of Waterford. miraculous powers. It is said to have been wafted from Rome upon the surface of the ocean, at the period of St. Declan's founding his church at Ardmore, and to have borne on its top a large bell for the church tower, and vestments for the saint. At a short distance from this sacred memorial, on a cliff overhanging the sea, is the well of the saint. Thither the crowds repair after the devotions at the rock are ended. Having drank plentifully of its water, they wash their legs and feet in the stream which issues from it, and, telling their beads, sprinkle themselves and their neighbours with the fluid. These performances over, the grave of the patron saint is then resorted to. Hundreds at a time crowded around it, and crush each other in their eagerness to obtain a handful of the earth which is believed to cover the mortal remains of Declan. A woman stood breast high in the grave, and served out a small portion of its clay to each person requiring it, from whom in return she received a penny or halfpenny for the love of the saint. The abode of the saint's earthly remains has sunk to the depth of nearly four feet, its clay having been scooped away by the finger nails of the pious. A human skull of large dimensions was placed at the head of the tomb, before which the people bowed, believing it to be the identical skull of the tutelar saint. This visit to St. Declan's grave completed the devotional exercises of a day, held in greater honour than the sabbath, by those who venerate the saint's name, and worship at his shrine. The tents which throughout the day, from the duties paid to the "patron," had been thronged with the devotionalists of the morning, resounded from evening till daybreak, with sounds inspired by potations of whiskey; and the scene is so characterised by its reporter as to seem exaggerated.* NATURALISTS' CALENDAR. Mean Temperature... 63 35. July 29. ST. MARTHA. On the festival of this saint of the Romish church, a great fair is held at Beaucaire, in Languedoe, to which merchants Waterford Mail. and company resort from a great distance round. It is a great mart for smugglers and contraband traders, and is the harvest of the year both to Beaucaire and Tarascon; for, as the former is not large enough to accommodate the influx of people, Tarascon, in Provence, which is separated from it by the Rhone, is generally equally full. Tarascon, according to a popular tradition, has its name from a terrible beast, a sort of dragon, known by the name of the tarasque, which, in ancient days, infested the neighbourhood, ravaging the country, and killing every thing that came in its way, both man and beast, and eluding every endeavour made to take and destroy it, till St. Martha arrived in the town, and taking compassion on the general distress, went out against the monster, and brought him into the town in chains, when the people fell upon him and slew him. St. Martha, according to the chronicles of Provence, had fled from her own country in company with her sister Mary Magdalen, her brother Lazarus, and several other saints both male and female. They landed at Marseilles, and immediately spread themselves about the country to preach to the people. It fell to the lot of St. Martha to bend her steps towards Tarascon, where she arrived at the fortunate moment above mentioned. She continued to her dying day particularly to patronise the place, and was at her own request interred there. Her tomb is shown in a subterranean chapel belonging to the principal church. It bears her figure in white marble, as large as life, in a recumbent posture, and is a good piece of sculpture, uninjured by the revolution. In the church a series of paintings represent the escape of St. Martha and her companions from their persecutors, their landing in Provence, and some of their subsequent adventures. She is the patron saint of Tarascon. It is presumed that the story of a beast ravaging the neighbouring country had its origin in fact; but that instead of a dreadful dragon it was a hyena. Bouche, however, in his Essai sur l'Histoire de Provence, while he mentions the popular tradition of the dragon, makes no mention of the supposed hyena, which he probably would have done had there been any good ground for believing in its existence. Be this as it may, the fabulous story of the dragon was the occasion of establishing an annual festival at Tarascon, the reputed origin of which seems no less fabulous than the story itself. According to the tradition, the queen, consort to the reigning sovereign of the country, unaccountably fell into a deep and settled melancholy, from which she could not be roused. She kept herself shut up in her chamber, and would not see or be seen by any one; medicines and amusements were in vain, till the ladies of Tarascon thought of celebrating a festival, which they hoped, from its novelty might impress the mind of their afflicted sovereign. A figure was made to represent the "tarasque," with a terrible head, a terrible mouth, with two terrible rows of teeth, wings on its back, and a terrible long tail. At the festival of St. Martha, by whom the "tarasque" was chained, this figure was led about for eight days successively, by eight of the principal ladies in the town, elegantly dressed, and accompanied by a band of music. The procession was followed by an immense concourse of people, in their holyday clothes; and during the progress, alms were collected for the poor. All sorts of gaieties were exhibited; balls, concerts, and shows of every kind-nothing, in short, was omitted to accomplish the purpose for which the festival was instituted. And her majesty condescended to be amused: that hour her melancholy ceased, and never after returned. Whether the honour of this happy change was wholly due to the procession, or whether the saint might not assist the efforts of the patriotic ladies of Tarascon, by working a miracle in favour of the restoration of the queen's health, is not on record; but her malady never returned; and the people of Tarascon were so much delighted by the processsion of the "tarasque," that it was determined to make the festival an annual one. This festival was observed till the revolution; but in "the reign of terror," the people of Arles, between whom and those of Tarascon a great jealousy and rivalship had for many years subsisted, came in a body to the latter place, and, seizing the "tarasque," burnt it in the market-place. This piece of petty spite sadly chagrin ed the Tarasconians. Their "tarasque" was endeared to them by its antiquity, as well as by the amusement it afforded them. For four years the festival of the “tarasque" remained uncelebrated, when an attempt was made to reestablish it; a new "tarasque" was procured by subscription among the people; but this also was seized by the Arletins, and carried over the river to Beaucaire, where it remained ever since. "However," said a hostess of Tarascon to Miss Plumptre, "since Buonaparte has happily restored order in France, we are looking forward to better times, and hope before the next festival of St. Marthe, to be permitted to reclaim our 'tarasque,' and renew the procession." "Ah, ladies," she added, “you have no idea how gay and how happy we all used to be at that time! The rich and the poor, the old and the young, the men and the women, all the same! all laughed, all danced, all sung; there was not a sad face in the town. The ladies were all so emulous of leading the 'tarasque!' They were all dressed alike; one was appointed to regulate the dress, and whatever she ordered the rest were obliged to follow. Sometimes the dresses were trimmed with gold or silver, sometimes with lace, so rich, so grand! God knows whether we shall ever see such times again. Ah! it was only because we were so happy that the people of Arles envied us, and had such a spite against us; but they have no reason to envy us now, we have had sorrow enough ninety-three persons were guillotined here, and you may think what trouble that has spread among a number of families. I myself, ladies, have had my share of sorrow. My husband was not indeed guillotined, but he was obliged to fly the town to avoid it: he never quitted France, but went about from place to place where he was not known, working and picking up a livelihood as well as he could; and it is only since Buonaparte has been first consul that he has ventured to return. Besides, every thing that I had of any value, my linen, my mattresses, my silver spoons and forks, were all taken away by the requisition, and I can only hope to have things comfortably about me again by degrees, if we are so lucky as to get tolerable custom to our inn." And then she entered upon a long string of apologies for the state of her house. "She "Now," we perceive in the "Mirror of the Months," that, "now, on warm evenings after business hours, citizens of all ages grow romantic; the single, wearing away their souls in sighing to the breezes of Brixton-hill, and their soles in getting there; and the married, sipping syllabub in the arbours of White Conduithouse, or cooling themselves with hot rolls and butter at the New River Head. "Now, too, moved by the same spirit of romance, young patricians, who have not yet been persuaded to banish themselves to the beauty of their paternal groves, fling themselves into funnies, and fatigue their ennui to death, by rowing up the river to Mrs. Grange's garden, to eat a handful of strawberries in a cup-full of cream. "Now, adventurous cockneys swim from the Sestos of the Strand stairs to the Abydos of the coal-barge on the opposite shore, and believe that they have been rivalling Lord Byron and Leandernot without wondering, when they find themselves in safety, why the lady for whom the latter performed a similar feat is called the Hero of the story, instead of the Heroine. "Finally, now pains-and-pleasuretaking citizens hire cozey cottages for six weeks certain in the Curtain-road, and ask their friends to come and see them ' in the country.”” The Feast of Cherries. There is a feast celebrated at Hamburg, called the "feast of cherries," in which troops of children parade the streets with green boughs, ornamented with cherries, to commemorate a victory, obtained in the following manner:-In 1432, the Hussites threatened the city of Hamburg with an immediate destruction, when one Miss Plumptre's Travels in France |
