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of legislation in that age, I send you the following proclamation of Edward II. It may afford matter for serious reflection to some of your readers; I see no evidence that any other authority was required to sanction this decree, but the will of the king alone. Let us compare those times with the present. F. J.
Proclamation of Edward, anno 1315. EDWARD, by the grace of God king of England, &c. to all sheriffs, mayors, bailiffs of Franchises greeting. For as much as we have heard and understanded the greivious complaints of archbishops, bishops, prelates, and barons, touching great dearth of victuals in our realm, We ordain, from hence forward, that no ox stalled or corn-fed, be sold for more than 23 s. no other grass-fed ox før more than 16 s. a fat stalled cow at 12s. another cow, lefs worth, 10 s. a fat mutton, corn-fed, or whose wool is well grown, twentypence, another fat mutton, fhorn, fourteenpence, a fat hog of two years old, 3 s. 4 d. a fat goose twopence, in the city threepence, a fat capon twopence, a fat hen one penny, two chickens one penny, four pigeons one penny, three in the city for one penny, twenty-four eggs a penny, twenty in the city a penny.
We ordain to all our fheriffs and our other ministers whatsoever they be, that if any person buy or sell, any of the things above named, contrary tọ our ordinance aforesaid, that the ware be forfeited, and due penalty set upon them for their desert.
Given at Westminster under our great seal, the 4th day of March, in the 8th year of our reign,
To the Editor of the Bee.
COME UNDER MY PLAIDY,
MODERN MARRIAGE DELINEATED,
An old Scots song, never before published.
<< COME under my plaidy, the night's ga'en to fa'; "Come in frae the cauld blast, the drift and the snaw; "Come under my plaidy, and lie down beside me; "There's room in't, dear lafsie! believe me, for twa. "Come under my plaidy, and lie down beside me,, "I'll hap ye frae ev'ry cauld blast that will blaw: "O come under my plaidy, and lie doun beside me, "There's room in't, dear lafsie! believe me for twa."
• Gae 'wa wi' your plaidy! auld Donald gae 'wa!
O there's nane dance sae lightly, sae gracefu' sae tightly, • His cheek's like the new rose, his brow's like the snaw."
"Dear MARION let that flee stick fast to the wa;
'My father's ay tell'd me, my mither and a',
I hae little tocher; you've made a gude offer;
She crap in ayont him, beside the stane wa'
He wander'd hame weary, the night it was dreary!
O the deel's in the lafses! they gang now sae bra',
GLEANINGS OF ANCIENT POETRY.
THOSE who believe that smooth numbers, and a regular recurrence of certain sounds, at stated intervals, constitute the whole of poetry, may país over the following poem; for it will not suit their taste. But such as think that the great end of poetry is to excite strong and vivid ideas, by delicately touching the sympathetic chords of the human mind, may peruse it without fear of being disappointed. They will indeed regret, that a person, whose natural feelings has suggested some of the tenderest and most unaffected exprefsions that are to be found in our language, should have been so very deficient in the general melody of sounds. For poetry never produces its fullest effect, but where the natural impafsioned tones, suggested by those ideas which totally fill the mind at the time, are allowed to be fully expanded without restraint. Had it not been for the swelling rotundity of Milton's numbers, his poems would now have been idolized like precious relics only by a few, instead of affording delight to persons of all ranks. Shakespeare, himself, would have been allowed to moulder on the fhelf, were it not for that inimitable talent he pofsefsed of uniting bold · and delicate touches of nature, with that infinitely varied modulation of exprefsive tones, which every where occur in all his works.
Dr Henry King, the author of this piece, was bishop of Winchester, a clergyman of distinguished talents, and conspicuous piety: He was born anno 1591, and died anno 1669.
ACCEPT thou fhrine of my dead saint
And for sweet flowres to crown thy hearse,
Receive a strew of weeping verse
From thy griev'd friend, whom thou might'st see
Quite melted into tears for thee.
Dear lofs! since thy untimely fate
Though almost blind; for thee (lovd clay)
But what I practise with mine eyes:
Nor wonder if my time go thus
I could allow thee for a time
A glimpse of thee, till that day come
The body of this world like thine,
* * * *
Sleep on, my love, in thy cold bed Never to be disquieted!
My last good night! thou wilt not wake
It so much loves; and fill the room
The thought of this bids me go on,
THE rose had been wash'd, just wash'd in a show'r,
The plentiful moisture encumber'd the flow'r,
The cup was all fill'd, and the leaves were all wet, And it seem'd, to a fanciful view,
To weep for the buds it had left with regret
I hastily seiz'd it, unfit as it was
For a nosegay, so drooping and drown'd, And wringing it rudely, too rudely, alas!
I snapt it, it fell to the ground.
And such, I exclaim'd, is the pitylefs part
This elegant rose, had I fhaken it lefs,
Might have bloom'd with its owner a while; And a tear that is wip'd with a little address May be follow'd, perhaps, by a smile.