I have Roman coins of Probus and Gratian, and also an undeciphered one, which are said to have been lately found in an excavated mass of soil upon which some old tenements stood, in a street called Dolday, in this city. In The Stranger's Guide to Worcester, by Ambrose Florence, p. 13, the above ancient part of the town is noticed as follows." In the corporation book, called Liber Legum, made in the reign of Henry VII., it is ordered that all Walshe catell' coming to be sold, be brought to Dolday." Camden, in his Britannia, vol. ii., p. 352, edit. 1790,* says"Worcester was probably founded by the Romans, when they built cities at proper intervals on the east side of the Severn, to check the Britons on the other side of that river. It formerly boasted Roman walls. It has now a tolerably strong wall." In Britton's History and Antiquities of Worcester Cathedral, published in 1835, it is stated that "Dr. Stukeley, who appears to have visited the city and several other places in this part of England, in 1721, and afterwards published an account of his antiquarian researches in his Itinerarium curiosum, says no doubt but this was a Roman city, yet we could find no remains but a place in it called Sudbury, which seems to retain in its name some memorial of that sort.'"+ To this Mr. Britton added-" This place is now called Sidbury-evidently a corruption of South-bury or borough. Since Camden, Stukeley, and Green wrote their respec Vide, also, Andrew Yarranton's Work, intitled, England's Improvement by Sea and Land, &c., (the first part of which was published in 1677, and the second in 1698), and Chambers's Biographical Illustrations of Worcestershire, title, Yarrington. + Bishop Lyttleton was also of that opinion. Dr. Nash, in the absence of the late discoveries, raised considerable doubts, in his History of Worcestershire, as to Worcester having been a Roman station, as he did not think Yarranton's account was sufficiently conclusive. Upon a culvert, a few years back, having been made about thirty or forty yards long in Sidbury street, just outside where the city-gate stood, a pebble pavement was found all along the line, about six feet deep in the earth. The like was also discovered in the adjoining lane leading out of Sidbury, by the back of St. Peter's church, to the china factory; but I should think this pavement was not Roman, but of a more modern date, and buried, perhaps, at the time of one of the conflagrations of this city, for the ground in that quarter has been considerably raised since the above church was built, as the steps down into that ancient edifice sufficiently indicate. It was at the above spot in Sidbury where Charles II. escaped from the Cromwellites, aided by a waggon, which crossed the gate-way, and which was laden with ammunition, according to Dr. Bates's account in his Troubles of England, and with hay, according to the History of Dr. Nash. tive works, a vast mound of earth-the keep of the ancient Norman castle on the south side of the cathedral-has been entirely taken away; and some Roman antiquities were found, in 1833, at or near its base: viz., an urn or jug of red earth with a handle; coins of Vespasian, Caligula, Nero, Tiberius, Adrian, Antoninus Pius, &c. ; and in a field near Upper Deal was discovered another Roman urn, containing twenty copper coins of Carausius." "The real extent of the ancient castle cannot now be ascertained, but the lofty mound, called the keep, and its ditches, &c., occupied an area of between three and four acres. The apex of the keep mound measured more than eighty feet above the high-water mark of the Severn, which flowed close to its western base." In addition to the above-mentioned discoveries of remains at the Castle-hill, I have to observe that a workman some time ago brought me a small fragment, which, from its weight, he fancied was gold. He stated that he dug it out of the gravel, near the centre of the bottom of the above hill, during its demolition. I submitted this substance to an experienced Chemist, who, upon analization, found it to be exactly the same in quality as what is called 'patent yellow," the mode of making which is set forth in Mr. Gray's work on Pharmacology. Now, if the Castle-hill really was thrown up by the Romans, and the workman's above account was true, it may reasonably be inferred that the paint in question was of Roman manufacture; but it has been surmised that the above hill, or the greater part of it, was made of the earth which was excavated upon the laying of the foundations and crypt of the cathedral. With respect to that splendid and probably ancient British tumulus, called Cruckbarrow-hill, which is situated between two and three miles eastward of Worcester, it is very likely that the Romans used it as a watch or signal station, in the line of the Old Hills and Malvern Hill, on the south-west, and of the Storage, Suckley,* Ankerdine, Berrow, Woodbury, and Abberley Hills on the west and north-west. This hill is of an oval shape, and measures 512 yards round within the ring fence at the base, and about 180 yards round the crown. I take it this was partly a natural hill, and that it had a tail lying eastward, which was pared down to * That part of the Suckley chain, called the Round Hill in Alfrick, has a very tumulus-like appearance : the whole of the above range is rather minutely described in my pamphlet On certain curious Indentations in the Old Red Sandstone of Worcestershire and Herefordshire, &c. &c., published in 1835. gether with any other excrescences, and the materials placed upon the head. There is gravel at the apex: this I lately saw where a hole had been dug. It is very probable that this mound was formerly called Cruck-burrow hill, the word burrow being of Saxon derivation, and meaning a place fenced or fortified. If, however, it really is a barrow, I presume that it is the largest in the kingdom. As the Berrow Hill is of a very oval shape, it is more than probable that its sides were also pared down by the aborigines of our island; for there are lines of intrenchment round it near the top, in the same manner as at Wood-bury Hill. Under all the circumstances detailed in this and my previous paper, I submit that doubts can no longer exist of there having been either Roman camps, stations, or forts at Worcester, Powick, and Kempsey, and probably also at various other places in this beautiful county. Catherine Villa, Near Worcester, ANTONIO'S LOVE SONG; OR, DON QUIXOTE'S "As a madman fancies every one mad but himself, a patient with vertigo that every object is going round, so man, in the pertinacity of ignorance, transforms truth into error, by a blind supposition that truth is with him only."+ THOU flower of chivalry! incomparable man! I see thee sitting elbow to elbow with thy incomparable Squire; thy tarnished mail, with more rust on it than dishonour, brushing against the rough hose of thy antithesis-that emptier of wine-skins and flesh-potsSancho the first and the last-the Sir John of his class. I see thee; the inverted trough giving repose to the finest Caballero in La Mancha and all Spain to boot, side by side, "cheek by jowl" with * See vol. i. + The Would-Be; old copy, p. 57. VOL. VI.-NO. XIX. E that broad faced incarnation of humour, inimitable Sancho, without thought of high degree or knightly bearing; thy spirit too fond to be unkind even though Amadis himself should reprove thee for thy familiarity. I see the swarthy goatherds sitting round their skins and acorns, looking on thee with dull admiration and wonder; I see the amorous Dapple fondling in vain with the neck of his companion in arms, the good steed Rozinante, who is too nearly famished to be unchaste. Admirable pairs! There is no noise to disturb the solitude; the light long branches of the cork trees wave themselves over thee as a canopy. The picture is made. The flesh-pots are empty; the goatherds pour the acorns before their guests. Taking one between his finger and thumb, the knight breaks forth, "happy times and happy ages, those to which the ancients gave the name of 'golden,' when meum and tuum were sounds unknown in the universal benefaction." The knight's sorrowful tones yet breathe the last words of the golden age. The goatherds listen, admiring the manner of their guest. The knight holds an acorn between his finger and thumb; the images of that blissful period which his imagination had recalled, yet filled his mind-a thousand creations float around him—not as a mere dream, but the delightsome realities of the moment; for to him all was reality in the shadowy realms of fancya moonlight of the mind, when real existencies are lost in the gigantic shadows which they cast, not beheld as shadows, but incorporated in the object. The talismanic acorn is still held between his finger and thumb, when the rough tones of the goatherd shock his sensations and dispel the dream. The knight looks up-the acorn falls to the ground. "That your worship, Signor Knight-errant, may the more truly say that we entertain you with a ready good will, we will give you some diversion and amusement by making one of our comrades sing, who will soon be here." The tinkling sounds of a rebeck are heard in the distance :-Antonio, welcome. A rustic lover is Antonio; "a very intelligent lad and deeply enamoured, and, above all, can read and write, and plays on the rebeck to your heart's content." Antonio sits himself down upon a little green mound, under the spreading branches of an old oak, and tunes his rebeck with a singular good grace. The broad, good-humoured faced Sancho sets himself more at ease on his haunches; he fixes his eyes on the suspended wine skin. God bless thee, thou simple-minded Squirethou who art lost in the delights of hope and ease! Antonio, thy song: Antonio sings of love-what the acorn was to the knight's reverie of the golden age, Antonio's song was to the following waking dream; for the knight was so singular in his character that he lived rather in his own thoughts than by outward observation, and, by a strange deceptio visus, saw everything as he wished everything to be. The rough tones of Antonio's voice were softened by the bell-like tinkle of the rebeck: what he wanted in knowledge he made up by the plaintiveness of his manner. The knight composes himself to listen; he places his broken helmet on the grass; his long, scanty, and slightly-grizzled hair, parted in the middle, falls on each side his high intellectual brow. The upper part of his face bespeaks a character of almost feminine benevolence, but the slight curl of his moustachioed lip shews an heroical contempt of danger. His features are lighted by his imaginations of knights and ladies fair, of joust and tournament, of all the bright heraldry of honour. The knight attends-Antonio sings of love: the good knight thinks of his ladie-he wanders in the green arcades of Toboso-he hears every note, but Antonio and his rebeck are forgotten-the goatherds are forgotten-Sancho is dead: Don Quixote sees only the peerless Dulcinea. He at once grows young and handsome as Chilates-he springs from the back of Rozinante, a more noble animal than Cyd's Babieca he kneels at the feet of the peerless Dulcinea-she smiles upon him—she binds his arm with a bracelet of her own golden hair-he gazes on her with the fascination of a lover, the devotion of a worshipper, and the purity of a knight-heavenly emanation, "the high heavens that with your divinity divinely fortify you with the stars;" but ere he could proceed he is struck to the ground by an invisible power-Urganda, the sorcerer, seizes on the peerless Dulcinea and bears her away—her cries die away like the breath of the evening breeze-in vain he laments her loss, in vain he calls on the delight of his soul. He springs upon his steed—the last beams of the sun glitter on his armour as he passes into the inextricable mazes of a wood. He wanders on, with no other support than what his own thoughts afford him, and is saved from despair only by the sight of the bracelet of his Dulcinea. The knight revives as if touched by a charm; he braves the desert, and defies the storm that beats around him. Thus he pursues his devious and uncertain course, and, after overcoming innumerable dangers, approaches the castle of the dreadful sorceress Pintiquiniestra. The Don kisses his bracelet: as he passes the black towers of the castle not a sound is heard, not an object appears. At length he meets with a little old woman, whose hobbling legs |