No. VII.

EXTRACTS FROM DOMES-DAY BOOK,*

(TRANSLATION.)

Manor. In Tresche. Orm had eight carucates to be taxed. Land to four ploughs. Twenty shillings.

Manor. In Tresche. Tor had twelve carucates of land to be taxed. There is land for six ploughs. Hugh has there ten villaines having two ploughs, and eight acres of meadow. Value in King Edward's time four pounds, now ten shillings.

Perhaps the above ancient orthography of Tresche may suggest a probable etymology of the name; from the British Tre a town, and esk (wiske) a river, that is, a town by the river.

*This ancient and valuable record is now made public by order of the House of Lords. It was transcribed, and most accurately revised through the press by Abraham Farley, Esq. It has been translated by the Rev. W. Bawdwen, Vicar of Hooton-Pagnall, Yorkshire, under the title of "Dom Boc; a Translation of the Record, called Domesday." 4to.

No. VIII.

L

1

My muse, that loves to dwell in pensive mood,
On nature's beauteous scenes and prospects fair;
That sometimes wanders thro' th' embow'ring wood,
Or climbs the hill to breathe the healthful air.

Now take thy stand amidst these ruin'd tow'rs,
Where desolation holds her dreary reign;
Where earthly grandeur wasting time devours,
And mould'ring walls proclaim its honours vain.
Where UPSAL's stately mansion once could boast
Magnificence, and wealth, and noble fame;
Where guests illustrious met their generous host,
Well pleas'd to honour MOWBRAY'S princely

name.

In later days, when civil discord spread

Thro' all the land its mischiefs and alarms;
Then UPSAL'S lofty towers bow'd their head,
And conquering time completes the work of arms.

O Hist'ry! what a bloody page is thine!

What else but wars and mis'ries can'st thou boast! If in their laurel'd honours conquerors shine,

What fathers, husbands, brothers, sons, were lost!

My muse, that desolation's waste now sings,
O think of scenes, and warriors, now no more!
Lament the woes that civil discord brings,

And let thy tear Britannia's lot deplore.

Soon come the peaceful era, when no more,
Shall war beat out her hateful, deadly spear;
When amity shall join each distant shore,
And men to men affection shall endear.

Since earthly grandeur boasts no lasting date,
And "gorgeous palaces," thus ruin'd lie;
Let me aspire to seek a nobler state,

Nor rest in happiness beneath the sky.