for firing the castle, which already blazed in several places, shewing, by its red and awful glare, the gleaming swords of the combatants. Walter observed the intention of this fearful body, and finding it impracticable to divert it, he drew up his men at the entrance of the western tower, where Matilda was under the care of De Clifforde, her page, and old Ambrose, Arnold met him point to point; the contest was doubtful-they were equal in strength and courage; but the good fortune of Walter at last prevailed and his antagonist lay stretched upon the dead bodies of friends and foes. He had killed their leader, but his single arm could not contend against a host, and the western tower was soon enveloped in flames.

poor

"Fitz-Walter, exhausted with fatigue and the loss of blood from several wounds, soon became an easy conquest and was led a prisoner tó the king.

"To the tower with the traitor!' cried the king to the soldiers who supported the bleeding Fitz-Walter. He had lost his helmet in the fray, and his long white straggling locks hung in disorder o'er his woeworn face; he seemed insensible to his forlorn situation till the name of his dear Matilda, echoed by a thousand tongues, struck upon his ear and aroused his fast-failing senses. He cast his eyes towards the western tower, he saw the raging element and beheld his beloved Matilda, on the battlements, stretching forth her arms for aid; Edward was by her side imploring, by signs, the pity of the soldiers for his mistress.

"O king! as thou dost wish for mercy,' exclaimed the agonized parent, save my child. Call off those blood-hounds and let my willing vassals pass free and save her-be quick, or all is lost. Speak-command and I will be thy meanest slave and bless thee. See, see the flames devour the building. Soldiers, if ye have wives or daughters for their sakes unhand me. Fiends of hell why do ye grapple me. Dè Clifforde, Walter, where art thou? Oh! heartless tyrant! wilt thou risk a father's curse? Matilda-my child-my darling child!-Oh, God! she falls and no hand near to save. Accursed king!'

"He said-he saw no more, but fell exhausted in the arms of thẻ inhuman soldiers, who instantly bore him away to the tower."

Matilda, De Clifforde, Walter and the page (whom both the baron and the king supposed to be buried beneath the burning ruins) escape to a subterranean cavern, by an avenue known only to Gilbert the Gosling. Here the rest remain concealed whilst De Clifforde, by means of a disguise, procures access to Fitz-Walter in the tower, and by remaining in his place, effects his release. The baron, led by Walter, proceeds to embrace his daughter, and then quitting London, calls upon his brother barons to avenge his injuries. Having secured an asylum for his daughter in the castle of Sir Richard Falconberg, a messenger is dispatched to London, whence Matilda and her attendants proceed, habited as peasants; but stopping to re

fresh at a hostelrie, are recognised by a party of the king's troopers, by whom they are about to be borne off when (by one of those strokes of coincidence without which the whole machinery of novel writing must stand still,) they are rescued by Sir Eustace De Mountfort, who, having received information of the supposed death of Matilda, as well as of its cause, had returned to England and is on his way to Falconberg Castle to arrange plans with its owner for prosecuting his revenge. The barons, who had previously resolved on checking the king's encroachments on their rights and privileges, now assembled their forces and appoint Fitz-Walter their leader, whose firmness and policy materially contribute to the famous acquisition of Magna Charta. Sir Eustace and Matilda are united at Falconberg Castle: Fitz-Walter is restored to his possessions and Sir Arthur De Clifforde retires into a convent.

We cannot conclude our notice without observing that the story is interesting and contains many sketches, both of persons and events, which are executed with considerable talent and are in sufficient keeping with the period to which they belong.

Noontide Leisure; or, Sketches in Summer, &c. By NATHAN Drake, Esq. 2 vols. 8vo. London. Cadell. Edinburgh. Blackwood. 1824.

DR. DRAKE, the list of whose works grows upon us in his title-page, and who has already indulged the public with literature for "Winter Nights," and for "Evenings in Autumn," has now suggested to our Mid-day hours one of the most interesting of all his contemplations. A few years since, he had collected at great extent, and with valuable assiduity, the mass of materials hitherto scattered in the memoirs, notes, illustrations, and other labours of the commentators on Shakspeare. The repulsive form in which those interesting notices had been hitherto presented, was equivalent to all but utter obscurity; and Dr. Drake had the merit of placing that knowledge advantageously before the public, which so placed must become popular.

He has in the present volumes tried a bolder hazard, and instead of adhering to the written fact, has trusted to fancy, and turned his materials into the shape of a novel.

The narrative is interspersed, in the manner of Dr. Drake's

former works, with occasional chapters on subjects of taste, as, the mixture of melancholy and mirth in Horace; the landscape gardening of Brown, Gilpin, Repton, &c. the Abbe de Lisle's poem, "Les Jardins," &c.

Shakspeare is here presumed to have retired from public life, and Dr. Drake opens his story with the recovery of an old gentleman of the name of Montchensey from a fall near Shakspeare's house in Stratford. The poet gives him and his fair daughter an invitation to remain under his roof. Shakspeare's family are successively introduced, his style of living, his furniture, his person and habits are all described, the tale is invigorated with a love affair for the benefit of the ladies, and the volume closes with the marriage of Montchensey's bewitching heiress Helen to her romantic lover Hubert in the presence of Ben Jonson and Shakspeare, and finally with the sudden death of Shakspeare himself.

The detail of Shakspeare's domestic arrangements is very ingeniously, and probably conceived; though, unfortunately, we know so little of the private life of this most eminent individual, that Dr. Drake has been compelled to make up his economy from the customs of the time. It is given in a letter from Helen to her friend Agnes.....

"I was ushered, on reaching the vestibule, into a handsome room, situated on the left of the porch as you enter the house; it was hung with rich tapestry, representing the defeat of the Spanish Armada, and the floor was strewed with some of the finest rushes I have ever seen; whilst in the chimney and bay window were placed, in profusion, a variety of sweet smelling herbs and flowers. Immediately opposite the door stands a large cypress chest of great beauty, elevated on lofty feet, and curiously embossed on the top and sides with scrollwork, and emblematical devices. The chairs are cane-backed with Turkey cushions of the newest fashion, and over the chimney-piece, in frame-work richly carved, is a portrait, by Van Somer, of his present Majesty, from whom, it is said, the poet has had the honour of receiving a complimentary letter written with his own hand.'" Vol. I. p. 60.

He then describes Shakspeare's wife and daughters, Mrs. Hall and Judith, and his son-in-law, Dr. Hall, the physician, dresses them en costume, and makes of them a picture which we shall probably see transferred to canvass for the next exhibition. Helen proceeds

"I must now beg you to follow us with your mind's eye into the dining parlour, situated on the opposite side of the vestibule. This

room, which is wainscotted with beautifully veined oak, corresponds in size with that we have just quitted, and is enlivened by several pictures, some of the most valuable of which are protected by curtains of green silk. One over the chimney-piece particularly attracted my attention, being a very fine half-length of Queen Elizabeth, by her favourite painter, Hilliard. Under this is suspended the poet's sword, in a crimson velvet-covered scabbard braced with gold. Another very splendid ornament to this parlour, consists of a cupboard of plate, among which I particularly distinguished a large silver gilt bowl. Shakspeare appears, indeed, owing probably to his intimacy with some in the first ranks of society, and especially his munificent friend, the Earl of Southampton, to have early adopted several of the most delicate and pleasing improvements which have lately found their way into domestic life. We found the table, for instance, instead of being dressed, as usual, with carpet-cloth, covered with fine damask linen; forks, an invention, you know, of only three or four years' standing, were placed for each individual, and trenchers of pewter were in every instance discarded for china or porcelaine.' "". Vol. I. P. 63.

The dinner is described; they take their dessert in the garden, and Helen utters a prophecy in honour of the poet's mulberry tree.

Shakspeare gives a dinner, and receives an unexpected and celebrated guest, Ben Jonson, who had turned out of his way to Wenlock Abbey, to visit his old dramatic friend.

"Give me thy hand, my dear Ben,' exclaimed the bard of Avon; right glad am I to see thee! Marry, this chance makes amends for all disappointments!-I had begun to think my old friends in the city had forgotten me.'

"Why, Master Shakspeare,' replied Jonson, returning the salutation in his usual blunt manner, and with the utmost glee, whilst at the same time, however, the dewy lustre in his eye told the feelings of his heart, if you will linger here picking of daisies, and babbling of green fields, instead of rejoining your former fellows and goodwishers round a bowl of sack at the Mermaid, God's my life! it cannot chance but you will sometimes slip even from the recollection of your warmest admirers; though I must say for myself, and that truly too, that go where thou wilt, mine excellent friend, the memory of Will Shakspeare, his mind, and manners, will never away from my heart.'

"I believe it, Ben, I most sincerely believe it,' rejoined Shakspeare, nor would I wish a better or more learned advocate with posterity, when I am gone, than what thou mayest prove.' • Master Shakspeare,' replied Jonson with great animation, take my word for it, you will want none. 'Sdeath! I question if my own productions, built as they are on the adamantine basis of antiquity, and founded, I may venture to say, on the very rock of dramatic philosophy, will have a longer date. But prythee, my kind Will, a cup of your best Canary, for, i'faith, the heat of the morning, and the dustiness of the

roads, have well nigh rendered my throat as dry as a potsherd.' Vol. I. p. 177.

This is characteristic, but Dr. Drake here breaks off the conversation, and will not task himself with a protracted dialogue. Whether this be in timidity, or in deference, his readers have to regret, that he did not take the obvious opportunity of giving them some recitals of the popular topics, or dramatic affairs of the time, matters of which he is master, and on which he could not write without exciting and gratifying his reader.

Our chief regret in the whole work is this absence of public topics. Shakspeare in retirement might most allowably and interestingly have talked of Shakspeare in the eye of the city and the court; have given us in an unlaboured form the leading incidents of his dramatic life, and captivated us at once with the colouring of romance, and the truth of history.

Forget Me Not. A Christmas and New Year's Gift for 1825. 12mo. Pp. 393. London. Ackermann.

1 vol.

The Literary Souvenir, or Cabinet of Poetry and Romance. 1 vol. 12mo. Pp. 394. London. Hurst and Robinson. Edinburgh. Constable and Co.

THESE

HESE are two very captivating little works constructed on nearly the same plan, abundant in graceful poetry, and each illustrated by striking and characteristic engravings. The former work is, however, rather more exclusively devoted to the indulgence of the season; the purpose of the latter being to make one of an annual series of poetry and tale, without any direct reference to the time, whether Christmas or New Year.

From the similarity of the plan, however, no comparison is necessary; both are extremely well arranged, both made up of very elegant and interesting materials, and both issued with a prodigality of decoration in designs, &c., that make them fully deserving of public encouragement.

The "Forget Me Not," has the merit of having led the way; the conception of the work was avowedly borrowed from the German Literary Almanacks, but it has been largely improved. The "Literary Souvenir" appearing later in the field, has had the advantage of a large circle of literary correspondents, and it contains contributions from many of our most popular poets, and some legends and tales of much spirit and originality.