()S Charles G. Osgood, 



What is more, the very words by which he introduces his eulogy 

 •Df Camden bear a noticeable resemblance to those of Harrison : 



But me no man bewaileth, but in game, 

 Ne sheddeth teares from lamentable eie : 

 Nor anie lives that mentioneth my name 

 To be remembred of posteritie. 

 Save one, 



namely Camden. Says Harrison : 'Good notice hereof also is 

 to be taken by Matthew Paris, and others before him, out of 

 whose writings I have thought to note a few things, whereby the 

 majestie of this ancient citie may appeare unto posteritie, and the 

 former estate of Verlamcester not lie altogither (as it hath doone 

 hitherto) raked up in forgetfulnes, through the negligence of 

 such as might have deserved better of their successours, by leav- 

 ing the description thereof in a booke by it selfe, sith manie 

 particulars thereof were written to their hands, that now are lost 

 and perished' (pp. 321-2). 



A passage in the third canto of the Third Book, stanzas 7-14, 

 unrelated to the one just considered, but concerned with two 

 rivers in Wales, may not inconveniently be dealt with at this 

 point. It tells of the visit of old Glauce and the love-lorn Brito- 

 mart to Merlin in quest of his coimsel : 



To Maridunum, that is now by chaunge 



Of name Cayr-Merdin cald, they tooke their way : 



There the wise Merlin whylome wont (they say) 



To make his wonne, low underneath the ground, 



In a deepe delve, farre from the vew of day. 



That of no living wight he mote be found. 



When so he counseld with his sprights encompast round. 



And if thou ever happen that same waj^ 



To traveill, go to see that dreadfull place : 



It is an hideous hollow cave (they say) 



Under a rock, that lyes a litle space 



From the swift Barry, tombling downe apace 



Emongst the woody hilles of Dynevowre : 



But dare thou not, I charge, in any cace, 



To enter into that same balefull bowre. 



For feare the cruell feendes should thee unwares devowre. 



But standing high aloft, low lay thine eare, 

 And there such ghastly noyse of yron chaines 

 And brasen caudrons thou shalt rombling heare, 



