The wanderings of a pen and pencil . n a holy-day, before the several retainers; and that they fought byevening in a croft above the river, near to Poolley Hall, which was hauntedby a fearful form for several years subsequent to the murder. ThomasCockayne died absent from home, and the heir, Thomas, grandson of John,succeeded afterwards to the estates. He was, no doubt, the founder of the present Poolley Hall, and he improvedthe chapel. Receiving ourlater information from ournew associate, who addedmuch to the life of our am-bulating parliament, wereturned not to the riverside, as we had propo
The wanderings of a pen and pencil . n a holy-day, before the several retainers; and that they fought byevening in a croft above the river, near to Poolley Hall, which was hauntedby a fearful form for several years subsequent to the murder. ThomasCockayne died absent from home, and the heir, Thomas, grandson of John,succeeded afterwards to the estates. He was, no doubt, the founder of the present Poolley Hall, and he improvedthe chapel. Receiving ourlater information from ournew associate, who addedmuch to the life of our am-bulating parliament, wereturned not to the riverside, as we had proposed,but continued upon thehilly walk to the rear of thehall, keeping in the di-rection of the Hermitage,which is by the side ofthe public road from Tam-worth towards Ashby-de-la-Zouche. We have not had the Legend of Poolley Hall; it is in your scrip ; letus rest upon the violets by the wayside, and you shall read it for our answered with good will to the friendly invitation, and produced the yellowscroll of wrinkled Poolley Chapel. ^Jjc mhyme of tf)e ittournful Uaoue; a Hcacntfc of ^oolyc f^all. There was a mournful ladye fayre The silent woods amonge ;My sister saw her silken hayre, So golden-brighte and longe,When she led ye little chyldren forth to heare ye cuckoos songe. She tooke ye wilde fruite from ye tree, The dyngle was her bed :The greene turfe of the grave should beA pillowe to her head,For all day longe in symple bi ooks her bitter teares were shed. 94 WANDERINGS OF A PEN AND PENCIL. She scared all fearful thynges awaye That watched her lonelye seat;Combinge her lockes, by moonlight gay, Where waters murmuring sweet,Whirled round her rockye restyng place, and over her marble feetc. She was an orphan, gentle mayde, Wonderous fayre to see,A martial] Bquire with welthe arrayde Knelt at her comely knee :His rival was a youthful knight, and one of much degree. Alack! she was in piteous plighte, They were a noble twain;For fyrste the squire and then the
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