THE WITCH OF WOKEY.

I

N aunciente days tradition fhowes

A bafe and wicked eife arofe,

The Witch of Wokey hight: Oft have I heard the fearfull tale From Sue, and Roger of the vale, On fome long winter's night.

Deep in the dreary difmall cell,
Which feem'd and was ycleped hell,
This blear-eyed hag did hide:
Nine wicked elves, as legends fayne,
She chofe to form her guardian trayne,
And kennel near her fide.

Here fcreeching owls oft made their neft,
While wolves its craggy fides possest,
Night-howling thro' the rock:

No whole fome herb could here be found;
She blafted every plant around,

And blifter'd every flock.

Her haggard face was foull to fee;
Her mouth unmeet a mouth to bee;
Her eyne of deadly leer,

She nought devis'd, but neighbour's ill
She wreak'd on all her way ward will,
And marr'd all goodly chear.

All in her prime, have poets fung,
No gaudy youth, gallant and young,
E'er bleft her longing armes:
And hence arofe her spight to vex,
And blaft the youth of either fex,
By dint of hellish charms.

From Glafton came a lerned wight,
Full bent to marr her fell defpight,
And will he did, I ween:

Sich mischief never had been known,
And, fince his mickle lerninge shown,
Sich mischief ne'er has been.

He chauntede out his godlie booke, He croft the water, bleft the brooke, Then pater nofter done;

The ghaftly hag he fprinkled o'er; When lo! where ftood a hag before, Now flood a ghaftly flone.

Full well 'tis known adown the dale:
Tho' paffing frange indeed the tale,
And doubtfull may appear,

I'm bold to fay, there's never a one.
That has not feen the witch in stone,
With all her household gear.

But tho' this lernede clerke did well :
With grieved heart, alas! I tell,
She left this curfe behind:

That Wokey-nymphs forfaken quite, Tho' fenfe and beauty both unite, Should find no leman kind.

For lo! even as the fiend did fay,
The fex have found it to this day,
That men are wondrous scant:

Here's beauty, wit, and fenfe combin'd,
With all that's good and virtuous join'd,
Yet hardly one gallant.

Shall then fich maids unpitied moane? They might as well, like her, be stone, As thus forfaken dwell.

Since Glafton now can boaft no clerks; Come down from Oxenford, ye sparks,

And, oh! revoke the spell.

Yet flay

-nor thus defpond, ye fair; Virtue's the gods' peculiar care;

I hear the gracious voice: Your fex fhal foon be bleft agen, We only wait to find fich men, As beft deferve your choice.

T

BRYAN AND PEREENE.

A WEST-INDIAN BALLAD.

HE north-eaft wind did brifkly blow,
The fhip was fafely moor'd,

Young Bryan thought the boat's-crew flow,
And foleapt over-board..

Pereene, the pride of Indian dames,
His heart long held in thrall,
And whofo his impatience blames,
I wot, ne'er lov'd at all.

A long long year, one month and day,
He dwelt on English land,

Nor once in thought or deed would fray,
Tho' ladies fought his hand.

For Bryan he was tall and ftrong,
Right blythfome roll'd his een,
Sweet was his voice whene'er he fung,
He fcant had twenty feen.

But who the countlefs charms-can draw,
That grac'd his mistress true;
Such charms the old world feldom faw,
Nor oft I ween the new.

Her raven hair plays round her neck, Like tendrils of the vine;

Her cheeks red dewy rofe buds deck, Her eyes like diamonds fhine.

Soon as his well known fhip fhe fpied,

She caft her weeds away,
And to the palmy fhore fhe hied,

All in her beft array.

In fea-green filk so neatly clad,

She there impatient flood;
The crew with wonder faw the lad.
Repell the foaming flood.

Her hands a handkerchief difplay'd,
Which he at parting gave;
Well pleas'd the token he furvey'd,
And manlier beat the wave.