us, that we may lead you into your heavenly Father's kingdom." Hereupon she wept with excess of joy, and endeavouring to follow the angels she awaked, and found her body inflamed with a fever, so that she perceived her end was near.

10. Therefore, sending for her nephew Cadocus, she said to him, "This is the place above all others beloved by me; here my memory shall be perpetuated. This place I will often visit in spirit if it may be permitted me. And I am assured it shall be permitted me, because our Lord has granted me this place as a certain inheritance. The time will come when this place shall be inhabited by a sinful people, which notwithstanding I will violently root out of this seat. My tomb shall be a long while unknown, till the coming of other people, whom, by my prayers, I shall bring hither; them will I protect and defend; and in this place shall the name of our Lord be blessed for

ever."

11. After this, her soul being ready to depart out of her body, she saw standing before her a troop of heavenly angels, ready, joyfully, to receive her soul, and to transport it without any fear or danger from her spiritual enemies. Which, having told to those who stood by, her blessed sou! was freed from the prison of her body, on the eighth day before the Ides of October. In her dissolution, her face smiled, and was all of a rosy colour; and so sweet a fragrancy proceeded from her sacred virgin body, that those who were present thought themselves in the joy of Paradise. St. Cadocus buried her in her own oratory, where for many years she had led a most holy, mortified life, very acceptable to God.--Church History of Brittany, Book X., Ch. 14.

Such is the history of St. Keyne, as related by F. Serenus Cressy, permissu superiorum, et approbatione Doctorum. There was evidently a scheme of setting up a shrine connected with the legend. In one part it was well conceived, for the Cornu Ammonis is no where so frequently found as near Keynsham; fine specimens are to be seen over the doors of many houses there, and I have often observed fragments among the stones which were broken up to mend the road. The Welsh seem nearly to have forgotten this saint. Mr. Owen, in his Cambrian Biography, enumerates two daughters of Brychan, Ceindrech, and Ceinwen, both ranked among saints, and the latter having two churches dedicated to her in Mona. One of these is probably St. Keyne.

I have left a good woman who never was here,' The Stranger he made reply;

"But that my draught should be the better for that I pray you answer me why."

"St. Keyne," quoth the Cornish-man, "
a time

Drank of this crystal Well;
And before the Angel summon'd her,
She laid on the water a spell.

"If the Husband of this gifted Well Shall drink before his Wife, A happy man henceforth is he,

For he shall be Master for life.

many

"But if the Wife should drink of it first,-
God help the Husband then!"
The Stranger stoop'd to the Well of St. Keyne,
And drank of the water again.

"You drank of the Well, I warrant, betimes ?"
He to the Cornish-man said;
But the Cornish-man smiled as the Stranger
spake,

And sheepishly shook his head.

I hasten'd as soon as the wedding was done,
And left my Wife in the porch;

But i' faith she had been wiser than me,
For she took a bottle to church."
Westbury, 1798.

A WELL there is in the west country,
And a clearer one never was seen;
There is not a wife in the west country
But has heard of the Well of St. Keyne.

An oak and an elm-tree stand beside,
And behind doth an ash-tree grow,
And a willow from the bank above
Droops to the water below.

A traveller came to the Well of St. Keyne;
Joyfully he drew nigh,

For from cock-crow he had been travelling, And there was not a cloud in the sky.

He drank of the water so cool and clear,
For thirsty and hot was he;
And he sat down upon the bank
Under the willow-tree.

There came a man from the house hard by,
At the Well to fill his pail;

On the Well-side he rested it,
And he bade the Stranger hail.

BISHOP BRUNO.

"Bruno, the Bishop of Herbipolitanum, sailing in the river of Danubius, with Henry the Third, then Emperor, being not far from a place which the Germanes call Ben Strudel, or the devouring gulfe, which is neere unto Grinon, a castle in Austria, a spirit was heard clamoring aloud, "Ho, ho, Bishop Bruno, whither art thou travelling? but dispose of thyselfe how thou pleasest, thou shalt be my prey and spoil.' At the hearing of these words they were all stupified, and the Bishop with the rest crossed and blessed themselves. The issue was, that within a short time after, the Bishop, feasting with the Emperor in a castle belonging to the Countesse of Esburch, a rafter fell from the roof of the chamber wherein they sate, and strooke him dead at the table."-HEYWOOD'S Hierarchie of the Blessed Angels.

BISHOP BRUNO awoke in the dead midnight.
And he heard his heart beat loud with affright:
He dreamt he had rung the palace bell,
And the sound it gave was his passing knell.

A. D. 852. Circa dies istos, mulier quædam malefica, in villa quæ Berkeleia dicitur degens, gule amatrix ac petulanti, flagitiis modum usque in senium et auguriis non ponens, usque ad mortem impudica permansit. Hæc die quadam cum sederet ad prandium, cornicula quam pro delitiis pascebat, nescio quid garrire cæpit; quo audito, mulieris cultellus de manu excidit, simul et facies pallescere cæpit, et emisso rugitu, hodie, inquit, accipiam grande incommodum, hodieque ad sulcum ultimum meum pervenit aratrum. Quo dicto, nuncius doloris intravit; muliere vero percunctata ad quid veniret, affero, inquit, tibi filii tui obitum et totius familiæ ejus ex subità ruinâ interitum. Hoc quoque dolore mulier permota, lecto protinus decubuit graviter infirmata; sentiensque morbum subrepere ad vitalia, liberos quos habuit superstites, monachum videlicet et monacham, per epistolam invitavit; advenientes autem voce singultiente alloquitur. Ego, inquit, o pueri, meo miserabili fato dæmoniacis semper artibus inservivi; ego omnium vitiorum sentina, ego illecebrarum omnium fui magistra. Erat tamen mihi inter hæc mala spes vestræ religionis, quæ meam solidaret animam desperatum; vos expectabam propugnatores contra dæmones, tutores contra sævissimos hostes. Nunc igitur quoniam ad finem vitæ perveni, rogo vos per materna ubera, ut mea tentatis alleviara tormenta. Insuite me defunctam in corio cervino, ac deinde in sarcophago lapideo supponite, operculumque ferro et plumbo constringite, ac demum lapidem tribus ca

thensis ferreis et fortissimis circundantes, clericos quinquaginta psalmorum cantores, et tot per tres dies presbyteros missarum celebratores applicate, qui feroces lenigent adversariorum incursus. Ita si tribus noctibus secura jacuero, quartâ die me infodite humo: Factumque est ut præceperat illis. Sed, proh dolor! nil preces, nil lacrymæ, nil demum valuere cathenæ. Primis enim duabus noctibus, cum chori psallentium corpori assistebant, advenientes Dæmones ostium ecclesiæ confregerunt ingenti obice clausum, extremasque cathenas negotio levi dirumpunt; media autem quæ fortior erat, illibata manebat. Tertia autem nocte, circa gallicinium, strepitu hostium adventantium, omne monasterium visum est a fundamento moveri. Unus ergo dæmonum, et vultu cæteris terribilior et staturâ eminentior, januas Ecclesiæ impetu violento concussas in fragmenta dejecit. Divexerunt clerici cum laicis, metu steterunt omnium capilli, et psalmorum concentus defecit. Dæmonergo gestu ut videbatur arroganti ad sepulchrum accedens, et nomen mulieris modicum ingeminans, surgere imperavit. Quâ respondente, quod nequiret pro vinculis, jam malo tuo, inquit, solveris ; et protinus cathenam quæ cæterorum, ferocium dæmonum deluserat, velut stuppeum vinculum rumpebat. Operculum etiam sepulchri pede depellens, mulierem palam omnibus ab ecclesià extraxit, ubi præ foribus niger equus superbe hinniens videbatur, uncis ferreis et clavis undique confixus, super quem misera mulier projecta, ab oculis assistentium evanuit. Audiebantur tamen clamores per quatuor fere miliaria horribiles, auxilium postulantes.

Ista itaque que retuli incredibilia non erunt, si legatur beati Gregorii dialogus, in quo refert, hominem in ecclesià sepultum, a dæmonibus foras ejectum. Et apud Francos Carolus Martellus insignis vir fortitudinis, qui Saracenos Galliam ingressos, Hispaniam redire compulit, exactis vitæ suæ diebus, in Ecclesia beati Dionysii legitur fuisse sepultus. Sed quia patrimonia, cum decimis omnium fere ecclesiarum Galliæ, pro stipendio commilitonum suorum mutilaverat, miserabiliter a malignis spiritibus de sepulchro corporaliter avulsus, usque in hodiernum diem nusquam comparuit.-MATTHEW OF WESTMINSTER, This story is also related by Olaus Magnus, and in the Nuremberg Chronicle. But William of Malmesbury seems to have been the original authority, and he had the story from an eye-witness. "When I shall have related it," he says, "the credit of the narrative will not be shaken, though the minds of the hearers should be incredulous, for I have heard it from a man of such character who would swear he had seen it, that I should blush to disbelieve."-Sharpe's WILLIAM OF MALMESBURY, p. 264.

THE Raven croak'd as she sat at her meal,
And the Old Woman knew what he said,
And she grew pale at the Raven's tale,

And sicken'd, and went to her bed.

"Now fetch me my children, and fetch them with speed,"

The Old Woman of Berkeley said; "The Monk my son, and my daughter the Nun, Bid them hasten, or I shall be dead."

The Monk her son, and her daughter the Nun,
Their way to Berkeley went;
And they have brought, with pious thought,
The holy sacrament.

The Old Woman shriek'd as they enter'd her door;
And she cried with a voice of despair,
"Now take away the sacrament,
For its presence I cannot bear!"

Her lip it trembled with agony;

The sweat ran down her brow; "I have tortures in store for evermore, But spare me, my children, now!"

Away they sent the sacrament;

The fit it left her weak;

She look'd at her children with ghastly eyes, And faintly struggled to speak.

"All kind of sin I have rioted in,

And the judgment now must be; But I secured my children's souls;

Oh! pray, my children, for me!

"I have 'nointed myself with infants' fat; The fiends have been my slaves;

From sleeping babes I have suck'd the breath; And, breaking by charms the sleep of death,

I have call'd the dead from their graves.

"And the Devil will fetch me now in fire, My witcherafts to atone;

And I, who have troubled the dead man's grave, Shall never have rest in my own.

"Bless, I entreat, my winding sheet,

My children, I beg of you;

And with holy water sprinkle my shroud,
And sprinkle my coffin too.

"And let me be chain'd in my coffin of stone, And fasten it strong, I implore,

With iron bars, and with three chains
Chain it to the church floor.

And bless the chains, and sprinkle them;
And let fifty Priests stand round,
Who night and day the mass may say
Where I lie on the ground.

"And see that fifty Choristers

Beside the bier attend me,

And day and night, by the tapers' light,
With holy hymns defend me.

"Let the church bells all, both great and small, Be toll'd by night and day,

To drive from thence the fiends who come
To bear my body away.

"And ever have the church-door barr'd

After the even-song;

And I beseech you, children dear,
Let the bars and bolts be strong.

"And let this be three days and nights,
My wretched corpse to save;
Till the fourth morning keep me safe,
And then I may rest in my grave."

The Old Woman of Berkeley laid her down, And her eyes grew deadly dim;

And they chain'd her in her coffin of stone,

And with iron barr'd it down,

And in the church with three strong chains They chain'd it to the ground.

And they bless'd the chains, and sprinkled them;
And fifty Priests stood round,

By night and day the mass to say
Where she lay on the ground.

And fifty sacred Choristers

Beside the bier attend her,

Who day and night, by the tapers' light, Should with holy hymns defend her.

To see the Priests and Choristers
It was a goodly sight,

Each holding, as it were a staff,
A taper burning bright.

And the church bells all, both great and small,
Did toll so loud and long;

And they have barr'd the church door hard,
After the even-song.

And the first night the tapers' light

Burnt steadily and clear;

But they without a hideous rout
Of angry fiends could hear;-

A hideous roar at the church door,
Like a long thunder peal;

And the Priests they pray'd, and the Choristers

sung

Louder, in fearful zeal.

Loud toll'd the bell; the priests pray'd well;

The tapers they burnt bright;

The Monk her son, and her daughter the Nun, They told their beads all night.

The cock he crew; the Fiends they flew
From the voice of the morning away;
Then undisturb'd the Choristers sing,
And the fifty Priests they pray;

As they had sung and pray'd all night,
They pray'd and sung all day.

The second night the tapers' light
Burnt dismally and blue,
And every one saw his neighbour's face
Like a dead man's face to view.

And yells and cries without arise,

That the stoutest heart might shock, And a deafening roaring like a cataract pouring Over a mountain rock.

The Monk and Nun they told their beads As fast as they could tell,

And aye as louder grew the noise,

The faster went the bell.

They bless'd the old woman's winding sheet
With rites and prayers due;
With holy water they sprinkled her shroud,
And they sprinkled her coffin too.

As they trembled more and more; And the Priests as they pray'd to Heaven for aid, They smote their breasts full sore.

The cock he crew; the Fiends they flew

From the voice of the morning away;