The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 13, No. 359, March 7, 1829

And hid her head in shades of gloomy night;
Quenched were her fires—her impious fanes o'er thrown,
Her mists dispersed before the Prince of Light,
Then sank my grandeur; in some lonely spot
I slept for years unnoticed and forgot.

Until Vespasian, by Rome's stern command,
To quench rebellion in my native isle,
Brought his bold legions from a foreign strand,
Our land to torture, and our towers to spoil;
He hewed me in a fashion now unknown,
And dubbed me, what I am, "The London Stone."

From me, the miles by Britons once were counted,
Close to my side were monies lent and paid;
If princes died—some gaudy herald mounted
Upon my head, and proclamations read;
Till Gresham rose; who used me very ill,
He moved the place of commerce to Cornhill.

When reeling homewards from the tavern near,
Oft with prince Henry has old honest Jack
Sat on my breast, and I've been doomed to hear
Him talk of valour, and of unpaid sack;
And whilst he talked, the roysterers gave vent,
To peals of laughter and of merriment.

Yes, I'm the hone that "City's Lord" essayed,
To make the whetstone of his rebel sword;
On me, with mischief rife, rebellious Cade
Sat whilst he thought and dubbed himself a Lord;
And bade my conduit pipe for one whole year
At city's cost, run naught but claret clear.[3 - See Shakspeare's Henry VI., part 2, act 4, scene 6.]

I could a tale of harrowing woes reveal,
Whilst York and Lancaster for mastery tried:
When men the ties of nature ceased to feel,
When sires beneath their offsprings' sabres died;
And sires 'gainst children clad themselves in arms,
And England mourned the din of war's alarms.

Yes, I beheld the beauteous virgin queen,
And all the dauntless heroes of her court;
Where danger threatened, 'midst the danger seen,
Bending their fearless way to Tilbury Fort;
I heard the shouts of joy which Britons gave,
When th' Armada sank beneath the wave.

I mind, Augusta,[4 - The ancient name for London.] well that fatal day,
When to thy ports with dire contagion fraught.
The laden vessel[5 - The cause of the great plague in 1665, was ascribed to the importation of infected goods from Holland, where the plague had committed great ravages the preceding year.] stemmed its gallant way.
And to thy sons the plague disastrous brought;
Quick through thy walls the foul infection spread,
And thou became the city of the dead.

Scarce ceased the plague—when to my aching sight
Appeared a scene of most terrific woe;
Around me burnt one monstrous blaze of light,
I warmed, and almost melted with its glow;
I burst the chains,[6 - Stowe in his history describes the London Stone, "fixed in the ground very deep, fastened with bars of iron and otherwise, so strongly set that if carts do runne against it through negligence, the wheels be broken, and the stone itself unshaken."See No. 64 of the Mirror for an account of London Stone.] which bound me fast, asunder,
And now remain, to learned men a wonder.

And when the city from her ruins rose,
I soon was left deserted and forlorn;
A porters' bench was raised beneath my nose.
And I became the object of their scorn:
I've heard the rascals, with a vacant stare,
Ask, just like you, what business I had there?

Few years have passed, since I, by parish sages,
Was called a monstrous nuisance to the street,
And, though I'd borne the brunt of varying ages,
Was doomed for pavement 'neath the horses' feet,
Until a Maiden,[7 - When the church of St. Swithin was repaired in 1798, some of the parishioners declared the London Stone a nuisance which ought to be removed. Fortunately, one gentleman, Thomas Maiden, of Sherborne Laue, interfered and rescued it from annihilation, and caused it to be placed in its present situation.] near to Sherborne Lane,
Saved me—and rescued London from that stain.

And now, vain mortal, I have told thee all,
My fate, my primal use, the what and which;
And though my struggling spirit owned thy salt,
Once more I'll slumber in my holy niche,
And "Britain's sun may set," what's that to me,
Since I, stone-blind and dumb, for aye will be.

    J.E.

HAVER BREAD

(To the Editor of the Mirror.)

A correspondent wishes to be informed of the definition of the word avver. In the 15th volume of the "Beauties of England and Wales," it is alluded to thus:—"This county (Westmoreland) being supposed unfavourable to the growth of wheat, black oats, called haver, and the species of barley called bere, or bigg, were the only grains it produced. Of the haver, bread was made, or the species of pottage called hasty pudding; this bread being made into thin unleavened cakes, and laid up in chests within the influence of the fire, has the quality of preserving its sweetness for several months; it is still in common use. The bigg was chiefly made into malt, and each family brewed its own ale; during the hay harvest the women drank a pleasant sharp beverage, made by infusing mint or sage buttermilk in whey, and hence called whey-whig. Wheaten bread was used on particular occasions; small loaves of it were given to persons invited to funerals, which they were expected "to take and eat" at home, in religious remembrance of their deceased neighbour; a custom, the prototype of which is evidently seen in the establishment of the eucharist, for in this county it still bears its Saxon name, Arvel bread, from appull, full of reverence, meaning the holy bread used at the communion."

P.T.W.

THE SKETCH-BOOK

BATTLE OF QUATRE BRAS

Gray, as one of the party of dragoons who attended the Duke of Wellington, proceeded onward at a sharp pace through the marching columns, which his grace examined, with a close but quick glance, as he passed on, and after a march of seven leagues, came up with the Belgian troops under the Prince of Orange, who had been attacked and pushed back by the French. It was about seven o'clock; none of the British troops had yet arrived within some hours' march of the duke. The party of dragoons were ordered to remain in readiness for duty in a cornfield near the road, on a rising ground, which commanded a full view of the country in front, while the duke and his staff proceeded to the left.

The four biscuits which had been served out to each man at Brussels the night before, with some cold beef, and the contents of their canteen, helped to regale the dragoons after their long and rapid march, while the stout steeds that had borne them found a delightful repast in the high rye that waved under their noses. Here they beheld passing on the road beside them many wounded Belgians, and could see before them, at the distance of a quarter of a mile, the French bayonets glistening over the high fields of corn, and hear distinctly the occasional discharges of musketry from tirailleurs. Gray's heart leaped with joy, and he thought no more of Brussels.