He read no more. The paper dropped from his hands; and Mr. Stubbs remained nothing but a GENTLEMAN all the rest of his life—Blackwood's Mag.
LINES WRITTEN AT WARWICK CASTLE.[6]
BY CHARLES BADHAM, M.D. F.R.S.
Professor of Medicine in the University of Glasgow.
I.
I leave thee, Warwick, and thy precincts grey,
Amidst a thousand winters still the same,
Ere tempests rend thy last sad leaves away,
And from thy bowers the native rock reclaim;