_N.B._ The above John Ridley is supposed to have been brother to Bishop Ridley, who was burnt at Oxford, October 16th, 1555, he was the possessor of, and lived at Wall-town, and was one of the ancestors of the present Sir Matthew White Ridley, of Blagdon, in Northumberland, M.P. for Newcastle.
LINES _Written at an Inn, in that very retired and romantic Part of Northumberland, the Banks of the ALLAN._
Howl on ye winds, and beat ye rains, Ye torrents roar o’er yonder linn, And Allen swell thy rapid stream, I careless view thee from an Inn.
The trees that late appear’d so green, To drop their foliage now begin: They waft a moral to mine ear, While pensive sitting at an Inn.
See winter comes with all his train, I hear his loud, his arctic din: Why let him come, I fear him not, I sit in comfort at an Inn.
When age, life’s winter, shall appear, Then reason whispers from within; Eternity’s our wish’d for home, The world at best is but an Inn.
Oh, have you seen the blushing rose, The blooming pink, or lilly pale, Fairer than any flow’r that blows Is Lucy Gray of Allendale.
Pensive and sad o’er braes and burn, Where oft the nymph they us’d to hail; The shepherds now are heard to mourn, For Lucy Gray of Allendale.
With her to join the rural dance, Far have I stray’d o’er hill and dale, Where, pleas’d, each rustic stole a glance, At Lucy Gray of Allendale.
’Twas underneath yon hawthorn shade, That first I told the tender tale, But now low lays the lovely maid, Sweet Lucy Gray of Allendale.
Bleak blows the wind, keen beats the rain, Upon my cottage in the vale; Long may I mourn, a lonely swain, For Lucy Gray of Allendale.
The day was quite pleasant, the Fourteenth of May, When most of the neighbours began to look gay, Such brushing, and washing, and dressing was there, And nothing was talk’d of but Haltwhistle Fair.
You may be quite sure I was pleas’d to the heart, To think I was going there to act my part; While pleasure is going, I will have my share, And see the nice lasses at Haltwhistle Fair.
Old Hetelwood briskly attended his boat, And jested the Ladies while they were afloat; He landed them all with a great deal of care, And wish’d them all sweethearts at Haltwhistle Fair.
We enter’d the town with a great deal of glee, Where hawkers and pedlers in scores you might see: The task would be endless to tell of the ware They had put up for sale at Haltwhistle Fair.