Or wake th' enlivening notes of mirth, 

 Oh shivered be the recreant lyre, 

 That gave the base idea birth; 

 Other sounds I ween were there, 

 Other music rent the air, 

 Other waltz the warriors knew, 

 When they closed on Waterloo. 

  

  

  THE BOY OF EGREMONT.  

 The founders of Embsay were now dead, and left a daughter, who adopted the mother's name of Romille, and was married to William FitzDuncan. They had issue a son, commonly called the Boy of Egremont, who surviving an elder brother, became the last hope of the family. 

 In the deep solitude of the woods, betwixt Bolton and Barden the river suddenly contracts itself into a rocky channel, little more than four feet wide, and pours through the tremendous fissure, with a rapidity equal to its confinement. This place was then, as it now is, called the Strid, from a feat often exercised by persons of more agility than prudence, who stride from brink to brink, regardless of the destruction which awaits a faltering step. Such, according to tradition, was the fate of young Romille, who, inconsiderately, bounding over the chasm with a greyhound in his leash, the animal hung back, and drew his unfortunate master into the torrent. The Forester, who accompanied Romille and beheld his fate, returned to the Lady Aaliza, and with despair in his countenance, enquired, "what is good for bootless Bene," to which the mother, apprehending some great misfortune, had befallen her son, instantly replied, "endless sorrow." 

 The language of this question is almost unintelligible at present. But bootless bene, 

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