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" But if the thing we seek
Be genuine knowledge, bear we then in mind
How, from his lofty throne, the sun can fling
Colours as bright on exhalations bred
By weedy pool or pestilential swamp
As by the rivulet sparkling where it runs,
Or the pellucid lake."

WORDS WORTH.

IN THREE VOLUMES.

VOL. I.

LONDON
SAUNDERS AND OTLEY, CONDUIT STREET.

1838.

344.

B. BENSLXY, PRINTER.

THE

LOST EVIDENCE

CHAPTER I.

They left him lying in his blood,
Upon the moor and moss,
They made a bier of the broken bough,
The sanch and the aspin gray,
And they bore him to the Lady chapel,
And waked him there all day.
They bathed him in the Lady-well,
His wounds so deep and sair,
And plaited a garland for his breast,
And a garland for his hair.

BERTHRAM'S DIRGE.

On the 10th of January, 1570, the sun never shone upon the good city of Ghent; from the dense low clouds which veiled its beams the snow fell incessantly for many hours, and when towards evening the storm somewhat abated, a white and spotless mantle was spread over the

VOL. I.

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