maids on the green.
But oh, I wish to be more great,
In honour, station, and estate!

"_Sir Roger_.--Hast thou not seen a tree upon a hill,
Whose ample boughs stretch wide around to sight?
When angry tempests do the heavens fill,
It shaketh drear, in dole and much affright:
While the small flower in lowly graces deck'd
Standeth unhurt, untroubled by the storm.
The picture such of life. The man of might
Is tempest-chafed, his woe great as his form;
Thyself, a floweret of small account,
Would harder feel the wind as higher thou didst mount."

Sir Roger's moral is trite enough, yet it seems to have escaped the
consideration of our Chartists and Socialists.

Elinour the nut-brown, and Juga the fair, are two pining maidens, who,
seated on the banks of the Redbourne, a river near St Alban's, are each
bemoaning their lovers, gone to fight in that neighbourhood for the Rose
of York. Presently, racked with suspense, they hasten nearer to the
scene of action.

"_Like twain of clouds that hold the stormy rain,
They moved gently o'er the dewy meads_
To where Saint Alban's holy shrines remain.
There did they find that both their knights were slain.
Distraught they wander'd to swoln Redbourne's side,
Yell'd there their deadly knell, sank in the waves, and died."

The verses to Lydgate consist of ten lines of no merit at all, and
supposed to be sent to him by Rowley, with the Ode to Ella, which has a
movement that recalls Collins, a lyrical artist perhaps unexcelled in
our language, and in whose manner Chatterton so obviously and frequently
composes, that the fact alone might have settled the Rowley question,
though we are not aware that it was ever particularly insisted on in the
controversy.

"Oh Thou, or what remains of Thee,
Ella! the darling of futurity,
Let this my song bold as thy courage be,
As everlasting to posterity--

"When Dacia's sons, with hair of blood-red hue,
Like kingcups glittering with the morning dew,
Arranged in drear array,
Upon the fatal day,
Spread far and wide on Watchet's shore,
Then didst thou furious stand,
And by thy valiant hand
Besprinkle all the meads with gore.

"Driven by thy broadsw