TALE XXV.

THE PORRIDGE-POT.

IN the vestry of Frensham church in Surrey, on the north side of the chancel, is an extraordinary great kettle or caldron, which the inhabitants say, by tradition, was brought hither by the fairies, time out of mind, from Borough-hill, about a mile hence. To this place, if any one went to borrow a yoke of oxen, money, &c., he might have it for a year or longer, so he kept his word to return it. There is a cave where some have fancied to hear music. On this Boroughhill (in the same parish) is a great stone lying along, of the length of about six feet. They went to this stone, and knocked at it, and declared what they would borrow, and when they would repay, and a voice would answer when they should come, and that they should find what they desired to borrow at that stone. This caldron, with the trivet, was borrowed here after the manner aforesaid, but not returned according to promise; and though the caldron was afterward carried to the stone it could not be received, and ever since that time, no borrowing there.1

earth, just at the foot of a mountain, about a league and a half from Barool, which they call The Devil's den, "is a small lake, in the midst of which is a large stone, on which formerly stood a cross round this lake the fairies are said to celebrate the obsequies of any good person; and I have heard many people, and those of a considerable share of understanding too, protest, that in passing that way, they have been saluted with the sound of such musick as could proceed from no earthly instruments." -P. 137.

1 Aubrey's Natural History of Surrey, iii. 366.

TALE XXVI.

THE WELSH FAIRIES.

ONE D. Harding, about twenty years ago, in Lanbistan parish, saw a circle upon the snow, and in it as it were the track of hundreds of children in little pump-shoes. It was near a way said to be haunted, or where people were usually disturbed in going to and coming from Knighton-market, or at other times at night.1

TALE XXVII.

KENSINGTON GARDENS.

Campos, ubi Troja fuit.-VIRG.

WHERE Kensington high o'er the neighb'ring lands,
'Midst greens and sweets, a regal fabrick stands,
And sees each spring, luxuriant in her bowers,
A snow of blossoms, and a wild of flowers,
The dames of Britain oft in crowds repair
To groves and lawns, and unpolluted air.
Here, while the town in damps and darkness lies,
They breathe in sunshine, and see azure skies,
Each walk, with robes of various dies bespread,
Sees from afar a moving tulip-bed,

Where rich brocades and glossy damasks glow,
And chints, the rival of the showery bow.
Here England's daughter, darling of the land,
Sometimes, surrounded with her virgin band,

Gleams through the shades. She, towering o'er the

rest,

Stands fairest of the fairer kind confess'd,

1 From a Welsh MS.

Form'd to gain hearts, that Brunswick's cause deny'd, And charms a people to her father's side.

Long have these groves to royal guests been known,
Nor Nassau first preferr'd them to a throne.
Ere Norman banners waved in British air,
Ere lordly Hubba with the golden hair
Pour'd in his Danes; ere elder Julius came;
Or Dardan Brutus gave our isle a name;

A prince of Albion's lineage graced the wood,
The scene of wars, and stain'd with lovers' blood.
You, who through gazing crowds, your captive
throng,

Throw pangs and passions, as you move along,
Turn on the left, ye fair, your radiant eyes,
Where all unlevel'd the gay garden lies:

If generous anguish for another's pains

Ere heaved your hearts, or shiver'd through your veins, Look down attentive on the pleasing dale,

And listen to my melancholy tale.

That hollow space, where, now, in living rows,
Line above line the yew's sad verdure grows,
Was, ere the planter's hand its beauty gave,
A common pit, a rude, unfashion'd cave;
The landscape, now so sweet, we well may praise,
But far, far sweeter in its ancient days,

Far sweeter was it, when its peopled ground

With fairy domes and dazzling towers were crown'd. Where, in the midst, those verdant pillars spring, Rose the proud palace of the elfin king.

For every hedge of vegetable green,

In happier years, a crowded street was seen,
Not all those leaves, that now the prospect grace,
Could match the numbers of its pigmy race.
What urged this mighty empire to its fate,
A tale of woe and wonder, I relate.

When Albion ruled the land, whose lineage came
From Neptune mingling with a mortal dame,
Their midnight pranks the sprightly fairies play'd
On every hill, and danced in every shade.
But, foes to sun-shine, most they took delight
In dells and dales, conceal'd from human sight :
There hew'd their houses in the arching rock;
Or scoop'd the bosom of the blasted oak;
Or heard, o'ershadow'd by some shelving hill,
The distant murmurs of the falling rill.

They, rich in pilfer'd spoils, indulged their mirth,
And pitied the huge wretched sons of earth.
Even now, 'tis said, the hinds o'erheard their strain,
And strive to view their airy forms in vain ;
They to their cells at man's approach repair,
Like the shy leveret, or the mother-hare,
The whilst poor mortals startle at the sound
Of unseen footsteps on the haunted ground.
Amid this garden, then with woods o'ergrown,
Stood the loved seat of royal Oberon.
From every region to his palace-gate
Came peers and princes of the fairy state,
Who, rank'd in council round the sacred shade,
Their monarchs will and great behests obey'd.
From Thames' fair banks, by lofty towers adorn'd,
With loads of plunder oft his chiefs return'd:1
Hence in proud robes, and colours bright and gay,
Shone every knight, and every lovely fay.
Whoe'er on Powell's dazzling stage display'd
Hath famed king Pepin and his court survey'd,
May guess, if old by modern things we trace,
The pomp and splendour of the fairy race.

1 This is calumny; the fairies were always liberal, never unjust: the only thing they ever stole were children, as represented below.

By magick fenced, by spells encompass'd round, No mortal touch'd this interdicted ground; No mortal entered, those alone who came Stol'n from the couch of some terrestrial dame: For oft of babes they robb'd the matron's bed, And left some sickly changling in their stead.

It chanced a youth of Albion's royal blood Was foster'd here, the wonder of the wood. Milkah for wiles above her peers renown'd, Deep-skill'd in charms, and many a mystick sound, As through the regal dome she sought for prey, Observed the infant Albion where he lay. In mantles broider'd o'er with gorgeous pride, And stole him from his sleeping mother's side. Who now but Milkah triumphs in her mind! Ah wretched nymph! to future evils blind. The time shall come when thou shalt dearly pay The theft, hard-hearted! of that guilty day: Thou in thy turn shall like the queen repine, And all her sorrows doubled shall be thine: He who adorns thy house, the lovely boy, Who now adorns it, shall at length destroy.

Two hundred moons in their pale course had seen The gay-robed fairies glimmer on the green, And Albion now had reach'd in youthful prime To nineteen years, as mortals measure time. Flush'd with resistless charms he fired to love Each nymph and little dryad of the grove; For skilful Milkah spared not to employ Her utmost art to rear the princely boy; Each supple limb she swath'd, and tender bone, And to the elfin standard kept him down ; She robb'd dwarf-elders of their fragrant fruit, And fed him early with the daisy's root,

Whence through his veins the powerful juices ran, And form'd in beauteous miniature the man.