whilst they were lying at anchor in Plymouth roads, by good fortune there came to my handes a Prayer in Englishe touching this present action, and made by her Majestie as it was voyced; the prayer seemed to mee to be most excellent, as well for the matter as also the manner, and therewithall very patheticall, and therefore for dyvers good motives wch then presentlie came vnto my mynd," he not only preserved it in its original form, but "at that very instaunt presumed * to translate it into Latin." The translation we omit, and proceed to give the Prayer.+ Most Omnipotent Maker and Guider of all our worlde's masse, that onlie searchest and fadomist the bottome of all our harte's conceites, and in them seest the true ori ginalls of all our actions intended, thou that by thie foresight doost trulie discerne howe no malice of revenge, nor quittaunce of iniurye, nor desier of blood shed, nor greedines of lucre, hath bredd the resolution of our nowe sett out armye, but a heedefull care, and warie watche, that no neglect of foes, nor ouer suertie of harme, might breed ether daunger to vs, or glorie to them. Theis beeinge the groundes, thou that dost inspire the mynd, we humblie beseech thee, withe bended knees, prosper the worke, and with best fore windes guide the jorney, speed the victory, and make the returne the advauncement of thie glory, the triumphe of their fame and suertie to the realme, with the least losse of Englishe bloude. To theis devout petitions, Lord, give thou thy blessed graunt. Amen. The following lines, attributed to Elizabeth, are from a manuscript collection of English and Latin Epi organist of Windsor. In 1552 he came from Eaton, and was admitted a student of Christ Church, Oxford, being then sixteen, of which university he was twice Proctor. In 1564 he was unanimously chosen Public Orator, being the first person upon whom that office was conferred for life. He became afterwards Provost of Oriel and a Canon of Christ Church; but marrying unfortunately, gave up his preferments, studied physic, and taking his superior degree in that faculty, left the university, and was appointed physician to Queen Elizabeth. It is not unlikely that his domestic uneasiness induced him to join in the expedition under Lord Essex, for Marbeck was not, at that period, of an age suited to peril and adventure. At his return he seems to have resided in London, where he died in the year 1605, and was buried in St. Giles's, Cripplegate. "Yf it weare of her maiesties doinge, I most humblie prostrate at her sacred feete craue pardon for daringe to presume to deface so excellent a pend thinge with my rude and homelie translation, beseechinge her matie to accept of my good meaninge, and to admitt this my plaine and simple excuse, whiche is, that in very truthe I could doe it no better." It appears to have been customary to compose and publish prayers of this description on all national undertakings. We have now before us two broadsides "set foorth by authoritie," and both "Imprinted at London by the deputies of Christopher Barker, Printer to the Queene's most excellent Maiestie." One of these is entitled "A Prayer of Thanksgiuing, and for Continuance of good Successe to her Maiestie's forces," was printed in 1596; the second is a composition of sufficient merit to render it well worthy of preservation. It was printed in 1599. A Prayer for the good Successe of her Maiesties Forces in Ireland. Almightie God and most mercifull Father, which by thine holy Worde declarest thy selfe to be the first ordeiner and continuall vpholder of all Princely power and right, and by thy terrible iudgements against Core, Dathan, and Abiram, in opening the earth to swallow vp them and theirs; and with like vengeance powred vpon Absalon, Achitophel, Adoniah, and Sheba, diddest manifest to the whole world, how much thou hatest all resistance and rebellion against thy Diuine ordinance: Uouchsafe (wee humbly beseech thee) to strengthen and protect the Forces of thine anoynted our Queene and Souercigne, sent out to suppresse these wicked and vnnaturall Rebels. Be thou to our Armies a Captaine, Leader and Defender. Let thine holy Angels pitch their Tents round about to guard them, and giue them victorie against all such as rise vp to withstand them. Let not our sinnes (O Lord) be an hinderance to thine accustomed mercies towards vs, neither punish our misdeeds by strengthening the handes of such, as despise thy Trueth, and haue wickedly cast off the rightfull yoke of their due allegiance: That so thy blessed Handmayde our dread Souereigne, may alwayes reioyce in thy Saluation, And we her loyall Subiects still haue cause to magnifie thy glorious Name, and to offer to thee with ioy the sacrifices of praise and thankes-giuing in the middest of the great Congregation. Graunt this (o most righteous Lord God of Hosts) we beseech thee, through Jesus Christ our onely Saviour and Redeemer. Amen. We have the rather reprinted this, believing that the broadside from which it has been taken is the only copy now in existence. grams made early in the seventeenth century. Of her Majesty's proficiency in the learned languages we have before given some early and very interesting specimens ; that which we now produce is by no means deficient in point and ability, nor do we see any reason to doubt of its authenticity. Queen Elizabeth to Leicester, who thought to haue married her. Urse, quid insanis? vis tu Rex esse fera rum? Urse, cares caudâ, non potes esse Leo. + RICHARD CROMWELL Was chosen chancellor of the University of Oxford on the death of his father, but no sooner was there a prospect of the Restoration, than he intimated his willingness to resign that distinguished post, in a letter to the Convocation, and soon after actually resigned it by a second letter addressed to the same body. We believe these epistles never to have been printed; and as they are highly characteristic of the writer, shall now present them to our readers. Richard Cromwell was a well intentioned, respectable person, ill calculated for the reins of government, and perfectly unambitious of their possession. It would appear, however, that he was favourable to literature, and would, probably, had things taken a different turn, have appeared to greater advantage as the chancellor of Oxford than as the protector of Great Britain; a dignity for which he had neither abilities nor strength of character. For the Vice-Chancellour and the Convocation of the Vniversity of Oxford, These Gentlemen-The signall changes of the hand of God towards mee haue not sequestred my thoughts from the discharge of that office wherein I stand ingaged vnto you. And whereas the revolution of time requireth that either your present ViceChancellour bee reinstated in his office, or another chosen to succeede him; consider ing what abundant testimony your present Vice-Chancellour, Dr. Conant, hath giuen of his intire qualification for soe great a trust, I doe hereby nominate and recommend him to you, to beare the same office for this next yeare alsoe, promising to my selfe the chearfull concurrence of your vnanimous votes in the reiterated conferring of this dignity vpon a person, who by his la bours and exemplary conversation amongst you, is a great ornament to your Vniversity. Gentlemen, your ready complyance to this proposall will demonstrate the con tinuance of your respects towards mee, whose high esteeme of learning and learned men you might haue more fully experimented, had not the most wise disposition of the Almighty hindred the more reall and fruitfull manifestations of the same vnto you. And I assure you, that I am soe affected to the flourishing of your estate, that as I accepted of the honour of your Chancellorshippe with earnest desires to become instrumental towards your prosperity, soe I shall readily divest my selfe of that honour, when by soe doing I may, at least, occasionally, contribute any thing to the attaining of that great end. I rest, Gentlemen, Your affectionate friend and Hursley, Octob. 6-59. R. CROMWELL. For the Vice-Chancellour and Convocation of ye University of Oxford, These Gentlemen-I doe and allwayes shall retaine a hearty sence of my former obligations to you in your free election of me to the office of your Chancellour, and 'tis noe small trouble to my thoughts when I consider how little serviceable I haue been to you in that relation. But since the all wise Providence of God (which I desire all wayes to adore and bow downe unto) hath been pleased soe to change my condition that I am not in a capacity to answer the ends of that office, I thought I should not be faithfull to you if I did not resign it up into your hands, that you might haue opportunity to chuse some other person, whoe in the present state of things may be more fit and able to serve you. I doe hereupon most freely giue up and resigne all my right and interest in that office. But shall allwayes retaine my affection and esteem for you, with my prayers for your continuall prosperity, that amidst the many examples of the instability and revolutions of humaine affaires you may still abide flourishing and fruitfull. I am, Gent", Your affectionate friend and servant, Hursley, May ye 8th, 1660. London Magazine, April and December, 1822, pages 387, 555. It is almost unnecessary to state, that the appellation of Bear alludes to the armo rial ensigns of Lord Leicester. DREAMS: FELON'S HILL-WINDY HOVEL I AM one of those feverish-spirited beings who never sleep without dreaming. And, on the other hand, I belong to that visionary class of mortals, who very often dream without sleeping. Nor can I justly assert that there is much difference, as to probability, between my sleeping and my waking fancies. In the latter, however, I am seldom wholly unconscious of the act of creation within me; whilst the former are the involuntary wanderings of my mind, when sleep has divested the will of its power to control or excite the imagination. Between these voluntary and involuntary dreams, I should nevertheless acknowledge one distinction, namely, that my daydreams-those which I wilfully create —are seldom equal in beauty or terrific interest to the shadowy scenes which pass over my mind in slumber. I will give an instance of each, and conclude with another which, in the opinion of many, would go far to establish the popular theory that there is something prophetic in the nature of real dreams. Travelling one day by the sea-shore, after having passed several deserted maritime villas, I at length found myself alone in the noisy solitude of the waves and echoing headlands. The aiery of an eagle or wild seabird, among the overhanging cliffs, was the only tenement within view. I saw the osprey frequently come down from the sun, and sailing between the ocean and the heights, with a shrill note of signal, enter his lofty nest. Huge cormorants sat balancing on the ridge of every wave, with their greedy necks plunged into the surf; and flights of seamews, scarcely distinguishable by their pale ashen colour from the foam in which they mingled, rose every now and then under the curl, uttering their peculiar scream as the white horses reared, and again settling quietly down upon the waters. It was about six o'clock in the afternoon when I doubled a high cape that jutted a good way into the sea; beyond this the flood became smoother, and only fell in a solid phalanx, at each return, upon the strand, without much noise or fluctuation. There was a THE VIOLETS. A great extent of beach now within view; the cliffs did not hang over it, but leaned back upon the land. They were not chalky or sandy as they usually are, but rather immense sheetings of grey rock, masses of enormous stones piled one above another, and apparently held together by mere points, so that if one by any accident were pulled from the bottom, the whole side of the mountain would probably have descended to the shore. There were sometimes indeed small portions of verdure, and marks of burrows made by rabbits or marterns, but there was very little pasture, perhaps no more than what just sufficed for these animals. considerable breadth of marge between the base of these hills and the Ocean was covered with a loose gravel, thinly overspread with rushgrass, and interspersed here and there with large fragments of granite which had rolled down from the cliffs. I am thus particular in describing this scene, that I may place the reader, visionarily, where I was myself, and enable him to enter into my feelings. At about the middle length of the beach there was a rude stone wall, very much dilapidated, stretching from the foot of the hills to the sea-weed on the shore. A gap divided this low parapet, and from side to side of the gap was extended, as a kind of gate, the long stem of a beechen tree, from which the dry silver bark was curling off by the force of its own crispness. Upon this tree I leaned, and turning my back to the ocean, gazed with sublime pleasure on the rocky stairs which seemed to lead up to the cloud-built chambers of the sky. So barren a view never met the eye of a spectator before, and to whatever part of the shore I looked, the same gray sterility of prospect saluted me. Before me were the slaty hills reflecting and reflected by the dull pale-blue fields of water that spread to the horizon; on each side were pathless sands, and the sky itself either lent or took the leaden hue of this desolate shore. Bleak as the scene was, however, I could not leave it, though evening descended fast, and the gale blew fresh from the mountains. I stil! leaned upon the tree, ruminating on man's insignificance and frailty, as I measured with my eye the gigantic retinue of hills before me. They spoke loud things to my heart, silent as they stood. Silent, I repeat, for the monotonous roar of the ocean had now diminished to an inaudible ripple as the tide forsook the strand, and Echo was asleep upon her stony pillow. Some time passed in this state of utter loneliness. On a sudden, however, as the wind blew yet fuller, I heard what I conceived to be the links of a chain give an iron sound from the hill-side. I looked toward the point from which the sound came, and sharpening my sight, perceived what had hitherto escaped my casual glance,-a gibbet standing about halfway up the rocks, with a human body hanging upon it in chains. It was not terror which seized me, at this sight; but a gloom all at once seemed to be thrown around me, and though I was riveted to the spot I would have given the world to have been away. The reader perhaps will scarcely appreciate the intensity of this scene, but I assure him the bare recollection of it even at this distance of time makes me shudder. Yet there was nothing to apprehend; this was most probably the body of some murderer (indeed I had heard something about Felon's Hill at one of the villages I passed through), who was gibbeted on the spot where he had committed the fatal deed; and it was not very probable that another would have chosen the same spot for the same purpose. But nevertheless (though I denied the sensation of terror), I acknowledge that I did feel my hair involuntarily rising, and a cold sweat overran my face. The reader will almost laugh at me when I tell him that the appalling desolation of this sight was further encreased, by-by -shall I be believed?-by the rabbits which I saw playing about the foot of the gibbet, just under the figure, where it swung to and fro with the arms hanging like weights down to the knees! The creaking of the gallows also, and the cling of the chains as the body turned with the wind like a vane, now this shoulder, now that, coming forward, -I shall remember thein in my grave! Some time must have elapsed whilst I stood wrapt in this dreadful contemplation; Night almost surprised me in the attitude of a statue. I recollected myself; sprang over the gate, and walking rapidly on without once looking behind me, as rapidly at least as the sand continually sliding from under my feet would permit, I at length got upon the high road just as the moon rising. O, thought I, what a scene would that be now! How the moon must look on Felon's Hill, whilst the waves dash sullenly below, and the corpse swings, and its chains jangle in the breeze! was To illustrate my theory, I must take the liberty of premising a second adventure which happened to me some years ago. "My lad," said a fellow, tapping me from behind on the shoulder, "whither art springing so fast o'er the heather?” The suddenness of the interrogation startled me, for I had nearly gained the summit of the hill, and a few minutes before had looked down its side without perceiving anything but low bushes spotting the pasture. The dimness of twilight, however, might have deceived me. "To N-," said I; "it is not very far, I believe." Farther than you may get tonight, mayhap," said the man; “you are fresh upon this pasture, I warrant?" "I was never amongst these hills before. I have been wandering here the whole day, and bethought myself of returning only when I had lost my path and it became too dark to find it." My companion smiled, or rather leered, at this simple confession. "But I am sure," added I, involuntarily putting up my eye-glass, "I am sure N must lie at the other side of this hill." "Ay, ay, to be sure; Heaven lies at the other side of the moon, but a long way still from that, could a man even get so far on his journey." "Is it not visible from the hilltop?" I with some anxiety inquired. "We shall see," he replied, and having gained the ascent, leaped upon a high rock and clapping the ring of a large door-key to one eye,"If there be a town within ken," said he, "I'll carry you on my back to it, and be cudgelled all the way like a donkey." There was no necessity for mounting the rock to see that the town was indeed not within view. This side of the hill spread forward into a boundless expanse of green moor, with scarcely an object to relieve its smoothness but a few tufts of rushes here and there. Behind me were the mountains I had descended a few hours ago, and on each hand were their lordly brothers, each overtowering the rest as it stood farther away. I am fond of loneliness, as the reader must have perceived from what I have already related; wild evening rambles and nocturnal musings in total solitude, have ever been more pleasing to me than society. But the present scene was almost too forlorn. I was most probably many, many miles from any habitation, and I stood alone amidst a world of hills. The night also, which had now closed in, though clear, was bitterly cold. Alone,' did I say?— whilst I stood pondering on the desolate prospect before me, and blaming the heedlessness which had led me hither, I received a slap upon the shoulders as if the side of a house had fallen upon them, and the fellow I spoke of shouted through my ears-Box thy noddle no about it, man; shalt sleep in a higher bed to-night than any man this side of Skiddaw or Ben-Nevis. Can'st tell a star from a rush light?" said he, pointing to a small beacon which glimmered on the top of one of the midmost hills to my right. Without expecting my answer, he pushed me rudely towards it, and walked on himself, scarcely deigning to observe whether I accompanied him. I was as a willow-wand to an oak beside him, so resistance was vain; and I could perceive by a casual quick glance of his eye, as the moon which had now surmounted the hill-tops shone down upon us, that he had no notion of allowing me to escape him. Had this been possible I certainly should have attempted it, notwithstanding his promised hospitality. In fact, his manners had given me impressions which his appearance fully confirmed; the word villain' was stamped upon his lowering forehead as plainly as if the hangman had burnt it there more with a hot iron. I had nothing to do but follow in silence. As we proceeded up the hill, I attempted once or twice to interrupt the horrid pause by asking some apparently indifferent questions about the place to which we were going, but the wind blew so strongly down the mountain that, together with my secret agitation, it rapt my breath between every few words, especially as we walked very fast considering the ascent. My companion did not pay the least attention to any thing I endeavoured to say, but turning every now and then gave a shout which in the stillness of night I heard faintly repeated by several very distant echoes. Just as we had gotten to the pinnacle, he shouted again, and I now plainly heard the shout answered by three or four different human voices from the bottom of the hill. Moonlight showed me indistinctly something moving up the rocks as I looked thither, and when it approached nearer I found it to be a party of men, one of whom had a sack heavily laden on his shoulders. Black-brow (as I will beg leave to christen my companion) and his unwilling guest were standing at the door of a ruinous hovel, built with awkward gray stones on the very top of the hill. Black-brow applied his eye-glass to the keyhole, and we entered the miserable dwelling, in the window of which a solitary light was burning. He thrust me into a small room, locked the door of it, and in a few minutes I heard the other party arrive, one of whom flinging down what I conjectured to be the sack at the threshold of my door, with a horrid oath exclaimed that "it would have broken a colt's back to carry it." I think, but am not able positively to assert, that as the sack fell heavily against the door, I heard something like a groan. The party now adjourned to another room at the farthest end of the building, and a great deal of noisy conversation ensued, of which however I could gather nothing but the oaths and exclamations. After some time I heard the crackling of a fire; by and by the noise increased; laughter intermixed with curses, and interrupted by a loud quarrel or a vociferous song, gave indication of a drinking-bout, and that desperate |