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The Fall of Cambria in Twenty-Four Books

by Joseph Cottle. Second Edition

collapse sectionI, II. 
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 I. 
 II. 
 III. 
 IV. 
 V. 
 VI. 
 VII. 
 VIII. 
 IX. 
 X. 
BOOK X.
 XI. 
 XII. 
 XIII. 
 XIV. 
 XV. 
 XVI. 
 XVII. 
 XVIII. 
 XIX. 
 XX. 
 XXI. 
 XXII. 
 XXIII. 
 XXIV. 


203

BOOK X.

SCENE, Chester.
Before the earliest dawn, a Cambrian Chief,
At Chester's massy gate, stood and required,
With voice austere, and vehemence of speech,
An audience of the King. The Sentinel
Demanded what his object and his name.
The stranger answer'd. “Saxon, tell thy Prince
“A Cambrian of high birth seeks conference.
“Haste! nor thus hesitate.”

204

The night was chill
And the Old Sentinel ill brook'd the voice
Thus haughty, and the opprobrious Saxon name.
No word direct he spake, but, leisurely
His greaves adjusted, pondering how to act,
Or what to say, to the insulting man,
Most efficacious of his high disdain.
Doubtful the path; when, stamping hard his spear
Upon the ground, as the resolve arose,
And to keep up his spirit to the point,
Frowning, he hasten'd to the grated space,
And with resentful eye, aloud exclaim'd,
“Warrior! or high or low, I heed thee not.
“Wait thou my pleasure!” As the Cambrian's sword
Half left its sheath, the grey-hair'd sentinel
Muttering faint curses turn'd to seek the King.
Edward had burst the slumbers of the night
And with his chieftains, communed now, and plann'd
The conduct of the war, when at the door
The sentinel appear'd and spake. “A man,
“Hot-headed, of so fierce a tone and look,
“Stands at our gate and claims to see our King,
“That I bethink, ere we can let him in,
“His very eyes, like a consuming star,
“Will burn our bars and buttresses of stone
“E'en to a cinder. Cambrian fierce as death.”
“Admit him!” Edward cried. Into the hall
The stranger enters. To the King he stalks,
And Edward thus address'd. “O King, in me,

205

“Behold, Prince David!” Wondering each beheld,
When Edward cried. “Declare thy message here!”
“I come,” the Prince replied, “not to convey
“Words from Llewellyn, but to offer thee
“My own true service.” Edward spake, “Explain!
“What meanest thou?” David thus answer made.
“In Cambria's ancient code, there is a law,
“Held sacred, of so clear and just a kind,
“That since great Roderic ruled, bravest of men!
“Few hardy minds have dared to violate
“Its holy sanctions. This high testament,
“Declares, that ever when a Cambrian Prince
“Sleeps with his fathers, his surviving sons
“Shall equally th' inheritance divide,
“Sharing alike his patrimonial lands.
“When Griffith died, Llewellyn seized his crown.
“Scarce had the breath, from my poor aged sire
“Escaped, and given his spirit to the bless'd,
“Ere, with a ravenous thirst of power supreme,
“Llewellyn, my false brother, laid his hands
“Alike on Gwyned, Powis, Dinevawr,
“And call'd himself, Prince of the Cambrian States.
“Humble, tho' resolute, I claim'd my part.
“He answer'd, with the specious sophistry
“Falsehood invents. ‘Stay till the war hath ceas'd.

206

“When this our land, from the entangling foe,
“Hath burst, and rear'd her lofty head, once more
“On her old independence, I will shew
“That justice, not ambition is my law.’
“I answered, ‘my clear right, withhold it not.
“The lion hath his paw, the wolf his fang.’
“He answer'd, striving to keep down my ire,
“‘Patience, my brother, Edward is our foe.
“The congregated sinews of our land
“First must be brought to a courageous proof.
“One head must dictate now, one sceptre sway.’
“In vain the waves assault the rocky shore;
“I left him. Brother he is none to me.
“The love which nature taught, which once I felt
“With all the ardour of young innocence,
“Now is converted to aversion, fix'd—
“Imperishable hate and deadly scorn.
“I tear the latent feeling from my heart.
“I swear myself his fiercest enemy.
“Edward! I know thy noble character.
“Not from the sudden impulse, but, deep thought,
“From inference calm and permanent resolve,
“Leave I my country, I disdain her cause!
“On one condition, and on one alone,
“I offer thee my service and my life.
“Thou art too wise, upon Llewellyn's faith,

207

“To rest, with the slight pressure of a straw.
“Ambitious, faithless, of his father's fame
“Unmindful, and to sacred justice lost,
“He meditates stupendous scenes of strife,
“And would deprive, e'en of their dearest rights,
“Their constituted liberties and laws,
“All Cambrians, high and low. Vain to contend,
“I fled the tiger, for I knew his force,
“But I retire only to arm myself
“With thundering terrors and effective wrath.
“Edward! whilst o'er our land Llewellyn reigns,
“There is no peace for England. Well I know
“His restless and aspiring appetites,
“His passion for dominion, his high looks,
“And feverish thirst, to rid, as he declares,
“This island, of the rude Barbarians,
“The Saxons, even thee! Mark thou my words,
“If thou, with thy brave warriors, wilt advance
“Into the heart of Cambria, and compel
“Llewellyn to renounce the crown he wears,
“And place it on my head, then shalt thou gain
“A friend more firm than the primeval rock.
“Yea, I will hold dominion at thy hands;
“To thee, as to my rightful potentate
“Swear fealty and allegiance, and henceforth
“Peace shall subsist where warfare dwelt before.”
Edward one moment paus'd; sudden he cried,
Oppress'd with joy. “Brave Prince for prowess famed

208

“And soldier-like exploits, 'mid Chester's walls,
“I welcome thee. A host is thy support.
“Thou hast reposed thy confidence in one
“Who knows not to betray. Thee will I make
“Instant, a Knight, the presage of my smiles
“And highest favour. Thou wilt then become
“Son of a new and nobler hemisphere.”
David approaching bow'd. The deed is done.
And now he stands, exulting in the name,
An English subject and an English Knight.
Whilst David smiled with joy, Edward thus spake.
“With thee, I know Llewellyn's faithlessness:
“Thou dost conceive of him as I have found.
“To 'stablish concord and firm amity
“Between our realms, jarring from age to age,

209

“Thee will I serve, thy cause alone espouse,
“And I will place thee on thy father's throne.”
David replied. “Magnanimous as great!
“I honour thee, first and most wise of men!
“The full completion of my hopes is come.
“David shall reign. My father's crown I feel
“Pressing my brow, and, 'mid the abject dust,
“Behold Llewellyn, naked, and the scorn
“Of my disdainful subjects and of me.
“Nor deem my service light as is the air.
“I have full many friends in Powis-land,
“Substantial friends, devoted, who will rise
“In David's cause, and pour a flood of wrath
“On my base brother. They require alone
“My voice, to rise in arms, and emulate
“Their ancient glory; Valour's darling sons.”
Edward replied. “David, our cause is one.
“Prompt energy must mark our character,
“And our resolves be quick as passing light.
“Speed to thy distant friends! Tell them from me,
“My object is, to hurl Llewellyn down,
“And, to his throne, thyself to elevate.
“That, 'tween our jarring realms, peace may prevail.
“This morn I lead my warriors to the Dee,
“Which, having cross'd, I pierce the Cambrian land,
“Seeking the foe, resolved by martial feats,
“To scourge him into reason, but, too late
“To save his honour, or secure his crown.

210

“Brave David, an important part is thine.
“Haste to thy friends. Urge them by arguments,
“Resting on Edward's faith, to rise in arms—
“For thee alone, and to establish, firm,
“Concord between us. Having Powis roused,
“And fired with valour, bear me thy support
“Where'er the current of the war may lead.”
David saluted the extended hand;
And now full confident, his course pursues,
Toward Powis, to collect his valiant friends.
The morn now came. To Saltney's Marsh, at hand,
Thro' the huge gate, the English forces pour
All confident, and panting for the war.
The baron and the knight, in glittering mail,
Earnest, pass'd onward, and, at length, his spear,
Edward exalted. To the door he march'd,
Then turning, gazed at the baronial hall
Where the first Lupus banqueted, and spread
The far-famed Norman hospitality.
The King, beholding, cried. “When the wars ceased,
“'Tween William and his subjects, Saxon born,
“This Hall, from the carousing multitude,
“Fat Lupus at their head, made the air ring

211

“With its loud merriments; yet, once again,
“Haply, the song may rise, when we have hurl'd
“Llewellyn to the dust.” This said, the King
Press'd onward to salute his marshall'd bands.
As thus he speeds, a voice is heard behind,
Never surpass'd in tone and tenderness
By Pity, when, from cheering Sorrow's child,
She turns, and soft inquires—Who else is sad?—
Once more to bid adieu, it is the Queen!
E'en Ellen, bathed in anguish-telling tears,
And hastening toward her Lord! Edward, his step,
Checks, and, with open arms, receives his pride.
They speak not. The firm grasp; the trembling frame;
The glowing cheek; the palpitating heart,
All plead, nor claim the vain-repeated word,
Where Nature spake. Again their arms relax.
They part, and, silent, now, the Queen retires.
Edward beheld her, whilst domestic joys,
And home's calm sweets, before his gaze, appear'd,
All lovely, and the Warrior half unarm'd.
At length he cried. “Tho' fame and high exploits,
“Earnest, I seek, and never England's King

212

“Lifted the spear in juster cause, or felt
“More motives of imperious character,
“To rouse his spirit, a mild voice within
“Whispers of peace. Forms of delight arise,
“Scarce lawful, in an hour so big with fate.
“My thoughts will turn to her, of Woman-kind
“First and most excellent, who, for her Lord,
“Gave proof of her affection, in an hour
“So perilous. O, wherefore didst thou call
“These hostile images, yet are they dear.
“I must, with speed, tread my ethereal way,
“Or yield. I cannot long the Alien prove.
“The Eagle with bold pinion mounts aloft,
“Far out of sight, cleaving his trackless course,
“Yet he descends far swifter, pausing not—
“He has his Home on earth and so have I.”
This said, the Monarch hastens to the field.

213

It was a glorious morn. The sun on high,
With many a floating cloud of liquid gold
Cheer'd the beholder. Silent was the air.
The leaves were sleeping in their hour of joy,
Whilst the gay swallow, darting now on high,
Now skimming the smooth earth and wantoning,
In the satiety of happiness,
Just stirr'd, with gentle motion, the lull'd heart,
And made it more alive to sympathies
That dived into the soul, caught from the scene—

214

The tranquillizing scene of all around.
Each baron brave, as parts of his own self,
Marshall'd his vassals. O'er th' extended plain,
Ranks follow'd ranks, glittering with armour fair,
Spears and steel chaplets, falchions burnish'd bright,
Halbert and bill and battle-axe, and bow,
Gorget and gauntlet, whilst the sheaf behind
Teem'd with the barbed dart. So brave a host
Never had England sent to scourge her foe,
Spain, Gallia, Brabant, Cambria, or, 'mid hills,
Where Caledonia's hardy sons abode.
At Edward's summons, thro' th' extended realm
Each warrior, from brief moments of repose,
Woke, and his armour braced, and fix'd his heart
To strive with Cambria's lance and Cambria's fame.
It was the tidings which their hearts adored:
Each panted for the day, whilst man to man
Talk'd of the war and its triumphant end.
They seem'd a marching nation. Knight and squire,
And baron, and brave earl, joyful advanced—
From barrier Tweed, to Fowy's southern flood;
From Coquet, Wensbeck, Derwent, Tyne and Wear,
From Esk and Eden, Petril, Wampool, Irt,
Ken, Ehen, Wyre, Ribble and Alt and Teese.
Here Mersey too, his hardy warriors sent,
With that slow creeping, graceless tide abhorr'd,
Dane, utter'd not by England, without curse,
And dread remembrances. Old Humber too,
Sire of a hundred streams! sent his bold sons;

215

From Owse and Swale, and Yare, and Wharfe and Don,
And his first born, stout Trent—a Progeny
Base and unfilial, who, their aged Sire,
Have forced (progressively, advancing still,
As he retreats,) e'en to the ocean's verge!
There deep intrench'd, his veteran front he shews,
And in the winter of his days, puts forth
The nerve of manhood.—Prosperous be thy cause
Sire of a hundred streams! Witham and Louth,
Wensum and Lynn and Yare, Blyth, Glen and Alde,
Too pour'd their champions, with sweet-flowing Cam,
And Soar and Nen and Hiz, Deben and Colne,
Medway and Mole, Lee, Cherwell, Isis fair,
With him the pride and glory of the land,
Old Father Thames, Crouch, Kennet, Rother, Frome,
And triple Avon, urged their sons to war;
With Ader, Itching, Otter, Welyborne,
Nadder and Arun, Anton and young Stoure;
Axe, Bruce and Parret, Exe and Barle and Taw,
Plym, Tavy, Torridge, Tidy, and that stream
Of matchless grace and beauties prominent,
Tamer, the boast of England's southern shore.

216

All these, at Edward's voice, sent their sons forth,
Equipt for combat.
Num'rous was the host
That now in war array throng'd round their King.
There Hungerford upraised his banner proud,
And Dodingsale and the Lord Latimer,
Le Zouch, and Courtney, Lifford's potent Lord,
With Lacy, Lincoln's Earl, Ralf Mortimer,
De Knighton, Monmouth, Langley, Montague,
Robert De Burgh and Reginauld De Bruce,
Tiptoft, with Essex and with Chester's Lords,
Walter De Clifford, Audley, Basset, Pointz,
Fitz Peter and Hugh Vaughan, Richard De Clare,
The young Montalto, Lenox, Pembroke's Earl,
Fitz Mathew, Bedford, Stanly, Venables,
With John De Grey, and Warren's lofty Earl—
(He, who when call'd by high commissioners,
Greedy of gold, to prove his title deed
To all his wide domains, boldly replied,
Sending dismay into the listener's heart,
“O men! my titles and my words are brief—
“My father, with this sword, conquer'd his lands,
“And with the self-same instrument, this arm
“Shall still defend them.”) With the rest appear'd

217

Talbot impatient of the near campaign;
Beauchamp and Berkely, Chandos, Dunstanville,
Juliers, and Albemarle, Grenvill and Scroope,
Ferriers, Maubray, Nevile and Cavendish,
Lucie and Lutterell, Mandevill and Scales,
Howard and Percie, Stafford, the Lord Strange,
Finch, Arnulf, Vipount, Audley, Boteler,
Beaufort and Brandon, Byron, Grevill, Hyde,
Clarence, Fitz Osborne, Arlington and Hay
Dacres and Digby, Eltham, Monke and Morle,
Fitz Piers, Montgomerie, Littleton and Fane,

218

Paget and Paulet, Rutland, Leigh and Pole,
With Poynings, Seymour, Rivers. These appear'd
With countless more, barons and knights and squires,
Panting to lift the spear and hurl the lance.
War now appear'd, dress'd in his gayest garb,
A spectacle of glory, half allied
To lower deities. The eye that saw
Gazed with admiring stedfastness, and felt
Idolatry steal to the willing heart:
Such was his port august. Amid the scene,
All winning forms were manifest. Proud plumes
Danced in the air; the playful banner waved;
“The glittering spear, firm from the ground, uprais'd,
And burnish'd helm, and gorget, caught the beams,
(The sun, in his effulgence scatter'd round,)
And dazzled the rapt eye. O'er the wide scene,
Thus teeming with delight, each man display'd
His richest wardrobe, gay as summer flies:
And whilst the lulling music fills the air
With concords and sweet sounds, in ecstasy
The warrior drinks th' intoxicating draught,
And reels with happiness.
Ah! what a change
And sudden transformation War displays,
Arch Hypocrite! Now with the dove-like voice
He calls the thoughtless to his banner proud,
Displays his rich appurtenance, and dress
Gorgeous as Autumn, bids them sip the bowl,

219

On some peculiar holiday brought forth,
And taste a Hero's fare. They taste and laugh!
Brief insect happiness! a few short days,
And cold experience robs them of their joy.
What form is that, which limping lags along,
Unknown of all? His friends he passes by,
Unnoticed. Bending to the earth he stoops,
And mourns in silence, longing for that place,
The last sad antidote of misery!
Can it be War? whose head so late appear'd
Lofty as Atlas, and whose look, alone,
Wander'd among the stars? Can this weak frame,
The ghost of manhood, be the potent Prince
Whose voice the thunders drown'd, and whose command
Extended to the earth's remotest verge,
And Nations roused from slumber, to attend
His march triumphant? Ah! his helm appears,
No longer doubtful, War our pity claims—
Fall'n Potentate! We saw thee in the hour
When thou wast young and graceful, and our eyes
Feasted upon thy form immaculate,
Whilst, with thy crowd of Sycophants, we too
Pay'd thee our homage, and believed thy name,
And thy repute, ordain'd, till time expired,
To live, the idol of a subject world.—
The mountain is transform'd to hillock small!
Combat hath weaken'd thee! Thy blood hath flow'd,
Haply, in other cause than equity.
Hard fare, hard lodging, night, the hour of rest,
Oft broken, and unceasing watch and toil—

220

Now, combating with the rude elements,
Now, with the foe, hath bent thy lofty head,
Quench'd thy fierce spirit, and thy ghastly eyes
Fix'd on the charnel house.—We know thee not.
Thy alter'd state an alter'd voice demands.
Go! and conceal with kindred multitudes.
Thy scar-crown'd head! Go! and before thou diest,
And slumber'st with the myriads now no more,
(Forgotten, tho' each hoped, some tablet proud,
Like thee, might bear his valour and his name,
To after ages, e'en to farthest time,)
Whilst yet the lamp of being dimly burns,
Go! make thy peace with God!
O'er the vast plain,
Where now the English legions spread themselves,
And thought on war, as on a rich repast
Where they might banquet, many a bounding heart
Exultant felt, only because his eyes
Pierced not futurity! A wat'ry mist,
A veil of gossamer, oft hides the fate,
Adjacent, like a near and pendent dart,
Whilst pale humanity, shuddering, looks on.
Regardless of the cloud, gathering at hand,
Full many a noble brother there appear'd,
Too soon ordain'd to wring the bitter tear
From the fond sister. There the lover stood,
Destin'd to feed War's ravenous appetite,
E'en he who late, with tenderness supreme,

221

Sooth'd the sad Maid (whose palpitating heart
Foreboded evil) with the valiant feats
His arm must first achieve, ere he reclined
Upon the lap of Love.—There many a man,
(His Wife's best treasure) who, so late, had lull'd
Each rising fear, and talk'd of fame and arms
And the rewards of honorable toil,
Press'd to his speedy end. Few suns shall rise
Ere these shall bid adieu to all below;
Nor, once again, around the hearth of peace,
Speak comfort to their soul's best part, thenceforth,
Widow'd and sad, into whose inmost soul,
The night-winds fierce shall sink, and seem the shrieks
Of the still-hovering spirits they adore.
Amid that mighty concourse, many a Sire
Look'd on with an inspiring confidence,
To honor and repose, destin'd erelong
To close his eyes, and bid a last farewell
To earth and all he prized. Amid the rest,
One Father stood, noble, endued with gifts,
And virtues, 'bove life's current excellence,
A baron of high name. Few days have pass'd
Since Latimer, breathing affection true,
Beheld his Offspring, rising up like plants,
Of divers age, and regular, all fair;
One, reaching manhood, one, the tender shoot,
In life's gay morn, just raising its green head
Above the turf, and promising bright flowers
Erelong to open.—Take thy last adieu!
Once more bestow a fond and fervent look,

222

No second shall return. Thy spirit feed
With the luxurious food! Lay by thy plumes,
And on a father's knee, take thy mild babes,
Call them sweet names, (still sweeter in thy heart)
And pardon'd be the tear that then may flow.—
The moment is pass'd by! The struggle o'er!
And save when truant fancy (welcome still
Tho' oft rebuff'd) lingers, like closing eve
O'er scenes beloved, and catches a fond glance,
Harmonious, in the distance of the mind,
Earl Latimer, noblest of english knights,
Thinks only of fair fame and war and arms.
The trumpet's bray is heard! The march begins!
The shores of Dee they reach! They cross; and now,
Triumphant and with hearts elate and bold;
Rest their tall spears, firm on the Cambrian land.
 

For centuries after the union of Cambria with England, it was common for the Welsh to designate the English by the name of Saxons. In the unfrequented parts of Wales, the custom is not unknown in the present day.

The law of Gavel-kind, enacted an equal division of property, between children. This law prevailed among the Ancient Britons, and which, from being continued by the Welsh, weakened their national strength, and contributed greatly towards their final subjugation.

“David, the Brother of Llewellyn, fled into England and joined his interest with that of Edward. Tho' levity of temper and a turbulent spirit for a long time influenced this Prince, a ray of returning virtue brightened the declining period of his life.”—Warrington.

Sometimes a person received the honor of knighthood, by simply kneeling, and receiving, from his superior, a touch with the point of a sword on his head, but this was chiefly confined to the field of battle, or where circumstances did not admit of a longer process. On other occasions it was made a formal ceremony. When Geoffrey Duke of Normandy was knighted, his arms were brought to him in great state: he was deliberately invested with an incomparable coat of mail, wrought with double chains or links of iron, so closely interwoven that it was impenetrable to the point of a spear or arrow. The chausses, or boots of mail, were made also with double chain-work. These were presented to him, with a pair of gilt spurs which were put on his feet. This done, a shield was hung on his neck, ornamented with lions of gold; an helmet richly decorated with precious stones, and so well tempered that no sword could make any impression upon it, was set upon his head; a lance was then brought to him, made of oak, and surmounted with a head of iron of Poictou; and lastly a sword was presented to him from the royal treasury. Thus equipped he went forth a noble knight.

A large Marsh, near Chester, extending into Flintshire.

“Hugh Lupus built a Hall suitable to his hospitality. He is said to have been, not only liberal, but profuse. He kept no account of receipts and disbursements, and ‘was much fonder of huntsmen and stout eaters than he was of cultivators of the land and holy men.’ By his gluttony he became so fat, as to be wheeled backward and forward to his banquets.” —Pennant.

“Hugh Lupus was kinsman of William the Conqueror, and received from him the Earldom of Chester. His descendants becoming extinct, in the reign of Henry III. it reverted to the crown, and Henry bestowed it on his son Edward, from which time the Earldom of Chester is one of the titles always bestowed on the King's Eldest Son.” —Sir John Dodridges' Account of the Earldom of Chester.

Edward always entertained great affection for his Queen. She accompanied him on his expedition into Scotland, where he went to decide which of the two competitors (Baliol or Bruce) had the superior claim to the throne of Scotland. On their arrival at Derby, the Queen died, when the inconsolable Monarch had her remains carried to Westminster, and at every place at which the body stopped, he ordered a sumptuous cross to be erected. “The crosses erected were, at Charing by Westminster, in Westcheape of London, at Waltham in Essex, at St. Albanes in Hartfordshire, at Dunstable, at Stony-stratford, at Northampton, at Woborne and Grantham.” —Stow.

The circumstances of Edward having been wounded by an assassin, in Palestine, with the magnanimity of his Queen in sucking out the poison, are thus described.

“The Saracens found out a fit person to engage in the assassination of Edward. The man had been brought up under ground, to make him the more daring, and to keep him from adopting any sentiments of humanity by conversing with other mortals. This wretch, either bringing letters from the Admiral to introduce him to the Prince, or else insinuating himself into the family by speaking French, and pretending he had some important secret to cqmmunicate, got admittance to the King when he was alone in his chamber, and shutting the door after him, he thought the opportunity favourable for his execrable design. It was on Friday, in Whitsun-week, June 17th, the weather very hot, and the Prince sitting on the bed in a loose vest, when the Assassin, drawing on a sudden a poisoned dagger from under his girdle, attempted to stab him in the belly, but the Prince, attempting to parry it with his arm received there a deep wound, and striking up the villain's heels with his foot, seized the dagger and plunged it in his heart. The Prince's Servant, hearing a noise, broke into the room, and taking a jointstool, dashed out the Assassin's brains, not without a severe reprimand from Edward for striking a Dead Person.” —Carte's England.

“By reason of the envenomed blade, the wounds were feared to be mortal, wherein the Lady Elenor gave so rare example of conjugall affection, as her immortal memory doth justly impart glory to that whole Sex. For when no medicine could extract the Poison, shee did it with her tongue, licking dayly, while her Husband slept, his rankling wounds, whereby they perfectly closed, and yet her selfe received no harme; so sovereigne a medicine is a Wife's Tongue anointed with the virtue of lovely affection.” —Speed.

There is a remarkable alliteration in some of the rivers of South Wales. To the great confusion of the traveller, the following are found within a small compass.

Tovy Towa Tawy Towy Tivy Tave.

These names bear a resemblance to the Cornish rivers, Taw, Tavy, and Tidy. I am induced to mention the distinction, or the reader might otherwise suppose, that I had enumerated, in the text, some of the Welsh rivers.

“Commissioners were appointed in the reign of Edward I. to examine the Titles by which the Barons and others held their lands. These Commissioners, by a vigorous exertion of their authority, gave great trouble and vexation to many; but a stop was put to their inquiries, by the boldness of Earl Warren, who appearing before these Commissioners and being desired to produce the instruments, by which he held his Estates, drew an old rusty sword out of its scabbard, and said, ‘This is the instrument by which my Ancestors gained their estates, and by which, as long as I live, I will keep them.’ This answer being reported to Edward, he wisely revoked the commission.” —Henry.

Dugdale however observes, that Edward was induced to dissolve the commission, not from the simple opposition of Earl Warren, but because “the rest of the Nobles then present, concurred therein,” which better reconciles Edward's acknowledged firmness, with the casual though politic renunciation of his design. The same writer mentions an anecdote of Earl Warren which exhibits his determined spirit. Warren had quarrelled with Sir Alan la Zouch about the right to certain lands, and, finding it probable that the law would decide it against him, in the midst of his wrath he happened to meet Sir Alan and his Son in Westminster Hall: “whereupon having first passionately vented himself in foul language, he at length assaulted them with such violence that he almost killed the one and much wounded the other.” Warren was fined ten thousand marks for this misdemeanor, but his native bravery always rendered him a favourite with Edward, which was manifested amongst other evidences, by the special precept that the King issued on Warren's death, requiring the Bishop of London throughout his whole Diocese, to pray for and grant indulgences for “the goode of his soul.”