FOOTNOTES:
[18] Cross-legs have been proved of late not to indicate Crusaders always.
[19] Matilda de Multon, the daughter and heir of Thomas de Multon, of Gilsland, was only thirteen years of age at the time of her father's death, when she became the ward of King Edward II.; but in 1317 by the marriage which consummated this act of daring chivalry, the barony was transferred to the Dacre family.
[20] The King committed these ladies (Isabella and Idonea de Veteripont), being then young, to the guardianship of Roger de Clifford, of Clifford Castle, Herefordshire, and Roger de Leybourne. According to the custom of the times, and the real intent of the trust, as soon as the heiresses were of proper age, they were married to the sons of their guardians.—Pennant.
[21] It has again and again been stated, that the Countess herself in the seventeenth century repeated this exhibition of her ancestress in the thirteenth: and not merely as an assertion of her right, but frequently and habitually. No evidence has been found, that she ever did so at all. She was, however, recognized as sheriff, and she exercised the authority of the office by deputy. Thus we have her recording that she appointed such a deputy sheriff in 1651. The office appears to have been regarded as attached to the estate of Brougham Castle, or the other lands which had originally belonged to the Veteriponts; it descended with those estates to the Earls of Thanet: but in 1850 a sheriff was appointed by the crown, under the authority of an Act passed in the previous session of Parliament, entitled "An Act to provide for the execution for one year of the Office of Sheriff in the County of Westmorland."
THRELKELD TARN:
OR, TRUTH FROM THE DEEPS.
By doubts and darkest thoughts oppress'd,
From cheerful hope out-driven,
A sceptic laid him down to rest
Mid regions earthquake-riven.
And scanning Nature's awful face,
And all the glorious sky,
He cried—"To perish, and no trace
Survive us when we die,—
"This, spite of hope, is man's forlorn
And unremitting lot;
No realm awaits the heart outworn;
Earth fades, and heaven is not.
"For Reason's ray, like yon bright sun,
Rebukes the feebler light
Of hope from star-eyed Fable won,
And old Tradition's night.
"We shall no more to life arise,
Nor reassume our breath,
Nor light revisit these dim eyes
Once closed in endless death.
"As soon shall stars at noontide beam
While burns the sun's bright ray,
As stand before high Truth the dream
That Thought survives the clay."—
He turned: beside him yawning wide
Lay Mountains hugely rent:
Whence far within their depths espied,
A little gleam was sent.
One star the blackened pool below
Reflected bright and clear,
While earth was revelling in the glow
And sunshine of the year.
Then starting, cried he—"Heaven! thou art
Above our powers to know.
Take thou this blindness from my heart,
And let me, trusting, go."