TO A YOUNG POETESS. 419 



papers, held it till General Lambert, on the 28th of August, forced 

 the passage of the Severn, at Upton, and sent Major Mercer, with 

 Captain Chappel's dragoons, to take possession of Madresfield, 

 which Fleetwood in one of his letters says, " would prove of great 

 service to them." 



My next concern is with the flight of Charles. We learn from 

 the narrative dictated by himself, twenty-nine years after the Battle 

 of Worcester, to the inquisitive Pepys, " that the companions of his 

 escape were my Lord Duke of Buckingham, Lauderdale, Derby, 

 Wilmot, Tom Blague, Duke Darcy, and several others of his 

 servants." There is another ''version of it which 1 believe has 

 never before been printed, having even escaped the searching eye 

 of the collector of the " Boscobel Tracts." Connected as it is with 

 a great national event, and interesting especially to many in this 

 county, who still talk by their fire-sides of Charles and the Royal 

 Oak, I think I am doing an acceptable service in bringing it before 

 your notice. 



" The manner of the king's escape from y^ battayle of Worcester, 

 as y« Lady Wood relates it, who heard the king tell it his mother. 



" At first he goes off the field with a good body of horse. Then 

 selects thirty, of w<=^ he after a while takes onely the Duke of 

 Bucks and Lord Wilmot, and a mosse trooper knowing of 

 ye wayes, with these he goes to a gentleman's house who afore 

 the battayle had told him all he had was at his service, but now 

 dare not shelter him. The king goes w^^^ v® mosse trooper into a 

 great wood," &c. — See MS. Harl. 991,/oZ. 90. 



I am, Mr. Editor, 



Yours, obediently, 



F. A. S. 

 Worcester, Dec. 17, 1834. 



TO A YOUNG POETESS. 



Oh lady, cherish not the dangerous flame 



That glows within thy bosom. 'Tis a light 

 Consuming whilst it gladdens : and though bright 



The splendour which it throws around the name. 



Leaving the soul in darkness. Oh thine aim 

 Rather be it to cultivate aright 

 Those loftier graces that defy the bhght 



Of age and adverse fortune. Lettered fame 



Is fraught with peril. Fling, oh fling away— 



Ere thy young spirit have too deeply quaff'd 



Of song the Circean cup — ^the maddening draught : 

 And lasting peace be thine ! So, in decay. 

 When thy lost Friend is mouldering, thou mayest say— 



Whilst with soft tears thou dost his memory bless— 



" More dearly than his own, he prized my happiness." 



F. F. 

 December 7, 1832. 



