dows in this Chapel, especially of those near the altar, is found rather to resemble the style of architecture that prevailed about the reign of K. Edward III. And indeed that the fculpture in this Chapel cannot be much older, appears from the Creft which is placed at the Lady's feet on the Tomb; for Camden † inform us, that armorial Crefts did not become hereditary till a bout the reign of K. Edward II. These appearances ftill extant, ftrongly confirm the account given in the following poem, and plainly prove that the HERMIT of Warkworth was not the fame perfon that founded Brinkburn Priory in the twelfth century, but rather one of the Bertram family who lived at a later period. See his Remains. * ** FIT was the word ufed by the old Minstrels to fignify a Part or Divifion of their hiftorical fongs, and was peculiarly appropri ated to this kind of compofitions. See Reliques of ancient Eng. Poetry, Vol. II. p. 166 and 397. 2d Ed. THE HERMIT of WARK WORTH. A Northumberland BALLA D. FIT THE FIRST. DARK was the night, and wild the form. And loud torrent's roar ; And loud the fea was heard to dafh Against the diftant shore. Mufing on man's weak hapless flate, With hofpitable haste he rose, And wak'd his fleeping fire; And fnatching up a lighted brand, Forth hied the reverend fire. All fad beneath a neighbouring tree O weep not, lady, weep not fo; It is not for myself I'weep, But for my dear and only friend, And while fome sheltering bower he fought O truft in heaven the Hermit faid, Doubt not but I fhall find thy friend, Then climbing up his rocky ftairs, Among the the thickets long he winds O tell me father, tell me true, Beneath fome neighbouring tree. But either I have loft the place, Praise heaven, my fon, the Hermit faid; The lady's fafe and well : And foon he join'd the wandering youth, And brought him to his cell. Then well was feen, thefe gentle friends The youth he prefs'd her to his heart; Ah! feldom had their hoft, I ween, The youth was tall with manly bloom, The youth was clad in foreft green, Sit down, my children, fays the Sage; Partake, he said, my fimple ftore, Thanks, father, for thy bounteous fare; Then freely ate, and made good chear, Now fay, my children, (for perchance What ftrange adventure brought you here |