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The lady watcht this kinsman false,
And he lifted the casket high:
'O! look not so, Sir William,'
And bitterly she did cry.

But the traitor knight dasht the casket down
To the ground, that blessed token;
'Lie there,' then said that false one now,
'Proud Muncaster's charm is broken!'

The lady shriekt, the lady wail'd,
While the false knight fled amain;
But never durst Muncaster's lord, I trow,
Ope that blessed shrine again.

PART THIRD.

The knight of Muncaster went to woo,
And he rode with the whirlwind's speed,
For the lady was coy, and the lover was proud,
And he hotly spurr'd his steed.

He stay❜d not for bog, he stay'd not for brier,
Nor stay'd he for flood or fell;

Nor ever he slacken'd his courser's rein,
Till he stood by the Lowther's well.

Beside that well was a castle fair,
In that castle a fair lady;

In that lady's breast was a heart of stone,
Nor might it softened be.

Now smooth that brow of scorn, fair maid,

And to my suit give ear;

There's never a dame in Cumberland,

Such a look of scorn doth wear.'

'Haste, haste thee back,' the lady cried, 'For a doomed man art thou;

I wed not the heir of Muncaster, 'Luck' is broken now!'

Thy

'O, say not so, for on my sire Th' unerring doom was spent; I heir not his ill luck, I trow,

'The doom is thine, as thou art his,
And to his curse the heir;
But never a luckless babe of mine
That fearful curse shall bear"

A moody man was the lover then;
But homeward as he hied,

Beside the well, at Lord Lowther's gate,
An ugly dwarf he spied.

'Out of my sight, thou fearsome thing!
Out of my sight, I say:

Or I will fling thine ugly bones

To the crows this blessed day.

But the elfin dwarf he skipt and ran
Beside the lover's steed,

And ever as Muncaster's lord spurr'd on,
The dwarf held equal speed.

The lover he slacken'd his pace again,
And to the goblin cried:

'What ho, sir page, what luckless chance
Hath buckled thee to my side?'

Up spake then first that shrivelled thing,
And he shook his locks of gray;

'Why lowers the cloud on Muncaster's brow, And the foam tracks his troubled way?'

'There's a lady, the fairest in all this land,” The haughty chief replied;

'But that lady's love in vain I've sought, And I'll woo none other bride.'

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And is there not beauty in other lands,
And locks of raven hue,

That thou must pine for a maiden cold,
Whose bosom love ne'er knew?'

⚫O, there is beauty in every land,'

The sorrowing knight replied;

But I'd rather Margaret of Lonsdale wed, Than the fairest dame beside.'

And thou shalt the Lady Margaret wed,'
Said that loathly dwarf again;

'There's a key in Muncaster Castle can break

'O never, O never, thou lying elf,
That maiden's word is spoken;
The cup of grace left a traitor's hand,
Proud Muncaster's Luck' is broken.'

Then scornfully grinn'd that elfin dwarf,
And loud he laught again;

There's a key in thy castle, sir knight, can break
That maiden's heart in twain!'

The knight he turn'd him on his steed,
And he lookt o'er hill and stream;
But he saw not that elfin dwarf again,
He had vanisht as a dream!

The knight came back to his castle hall,
And stabled his good gray steed:
And he is to his chamber gone,
With wild and angry speed.

And he saw the oaken casket, where
Lay hid that cup of grace,

Since that fearful day, when the traitor foe
Wrought ruin on his race.

'Thou cursed thing,' he cried in scorn,

'That ever such Luck' should be;

From Muncaster's house, ill-boding fiend,
Thou shalt vanish eternally.'

He kickt the casket o'er and o'er,
With rage and contumely;

When, lo! a tinkling sound was heard,
Down dropt a glittering key!

He remember'd well the wondrous speech
Of the spectre dwarf again,

There's a key in Muncaster Castle can break
A maiden's heart in twain!"

He took the key, and he turn'd the lock,
And he open'd the casket wide;

When the cause of all his agony
The lover now espied.

The holy cup lay glistering there,
And he kist that blessed token,
For its matchless form unharmed lay,

The loud halls rung, and the minstrels sung,
And glad roll'd the Esk's bonny tide,
When Lonsdale's Lady Margaret

Was Muncaster's winsome bride!

Now prosper long that baron bold,
And that bright and blessed token:
For Muncaster's Luck is constant yet,
And the crystal charm unbroken.

(Muncaster, and the manor of Muncaster, have long been enjoyed by the Penningtons, who appear to have possessed it about forty years before the Conquest, and ever since—sometimes ellaterally, but for the most part in lineal descent by their issue male-to this present time. Gamel de Pennington is the first ancestor of the family of whom there is any recorded account: he was a person of great note and property at the time of the Conquest, and the family having quitted their original seat of Pennington, in Lancashire, (where the foundation of a square building called the Castle is still visible,) he fixed his residence at Mealeastre, now called Muncaster. The old tower of the present Mansion-house at Muncaster was built by the Romans, to guard the ford called St. Michael's Ford, over the river Esk, when Agricola went to the north, and to watch, also, the great passes into the country over the Fells, and over Hard Knot, where is the site of another fortress constructed by them, apparent from the traces existing to this day.

The room in which Henry the Sixth was concealed is still called Henry the Sixth's room. The posts of the bed in which he slept, which are of handsome carved oak, are also in the same room, in good preservation.

When John, Lord Muncaster, the first of the family who obtained a peerage, entered into possession of Muncaster Castle, after his elevation in 1793, he found it still surrounded with a moat, and defended by a strong portcullis. The family having of late years entirely resided upon their estate of Wartee, in Yorkshire, the house was in so very dilapidated a state, that Lord Muncaster was chiged to rebuild it almost entirely, with the exception of Agriccla's tower, the walls of which are nine feet thick. The elevation of the new part is in unison with that of the Roman tower, and forms altogether a handsome castellated building. The situation is eminently striking, and was well chosen for commanding the several passes over the mountains. It is surrounded with mountain scenery on the north, south, and east, while extensive plantations, a rich and elevated country, with the sea in the distance, make a combination of scenery, than which it is scarcely possible to imagine anything more beautiful or picturesque. In the words of its noble ov ner, who himself so greatly exntributed to its renovation, it consists of ⋅ wood, park, lawn, valley, river, sea, and mountain."— hory.j

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This Ancient Ballad,' as it is there called, is taken from 'Legends of the Library at Lilies, by the Lord and Lady there,' London, 1832. The only information afforded respecting it is as follows:- To such as are well read in the rare work of autobiography lately published by Sir Jonah Barrington, so singular will the coincidence appear between the relation he gives of the strange fate of Mr. Joseph Kelly and Mr. Peter Alley, in 'My Brother's Hunting Lodge,' and the catastrophe of the following tale, that, except for the doubtless authenticity of the first-mentioned narrative, it might almost be thought to have been founded on this ancient ballad, which bears evidence of having been written about the middle of the sixteenth century, by a person who was himself a witness of the event he celebrates. As it is, the two stories will probably be taken as equally true, and strongly confirmatory of each other."]

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GOODLYE romaunte you shal heere, I wis,

Tis ycleped of Alle Deuiles Halle, Likewyse of the Feaste of Alle Deuiles it is,

And of what dyd there befalle.

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