party, on the nets being drawn, there was found in one of them a singularly shaped trunk of a tree. In order to find out what it contained, they were going to break it to pieces, when suddenly a voice issued from the trunk of the tree, commanding the workmen to desist. On hearing which, the workmen ran away precipitately, crying out that there was a sorcerer hid in the piece of timber. In the mean time Velant opened the door of his prison; and on coming out, told the King that he was no sorcerer, and that if he would spare his life and his treasures, he (Velant) would promise to render the King the most signal services. The King assented. Velant concealed his treasures under ground, and entered into the royal service. His charge was to take great care of three knives, which were every day placed before the King at table. One day, while he was washing these knives in the river, one of them fell out of his hands, and sunk to the bottom. Fearing to lose the royal favour, he went secretly to the forge belonging to the King's smith, and made a knife exactly similar to the one that had been lost. The first time the King made use of this knife at dinner, it not only cut the bread, but went clean through the wood of the table. The King, astonished at the extraordinary temper of the blade, wished to know by whom it had been made. Velant, being hard pressed by his Majesty's questions, confessed what had taken place. On this being made known, the King's smith became jealous of Velant, and pretended that he was capable of producing as good work as this stranger, whom he challenged to a trial of skill on the following conditions:" Make," said he to Velant, "the best sword you are capable of making: in the mean time I shall make a complete suit of armour; which if you can cut through with your sword, my head shall be at your service. But, if the armour resist the edge of your sword, your life shall be the forfeit. In twelve months the trial shall take place." Velant accepted the proposition. Two courtiers became guarantees for the smith, and the King offered himself as security for Velant. The smith immediately shut himself up, together with his assistants, in his forge, in order to work at the armour. Velant, on the contrary, continued to serve the King, and let six months pass away without thinking of his sword. The King at length asked him the reason; and Velant replied, that he had not been able to find his tools, nor his treasures, in the place where he had buried them, and that he suspected that they had been taken away by a person who had seen him hide them, but whose name he knew not. The King issued an order for all his subjects to come together, so that Velant might discover the culpable person. The thinget, or assembly of the people, took place; but Velant did not see the person of the robber amongst them. The King then became angry, and said that Velant had told him a falsehood. Upon this, Velant secretly made the figure of a man exactly resembling the person who, he suspected, had stolen his treasures; he also clothed it in a similar dress to what this person wore, and then placed it in the hall of the palace: on entering which the King exclaimed, "Ah, is that you, Reigin! are you already returned from your embassy? why have you not come to speak to me?" Velant, who had closely followed the King, immediately said, "Sire, you have named the guilty person." The moment Reigin returned, the King forced him to restore to Velant his tools and his treasures. Still, however, he

allowed four months more to pass away, till at length, urged by the King, he manufactured, in seven days, a sword which wonderfully pleased his Majesty. They went together to the river-side, and Velant threw into the water a piece of timber a foot in thickness: as this descended with the stream, he held the sword before it, and it was instantly cut in two. But, in returning home, he broke the weapon in pieces, and in three days produced another sword, which he took likewise to the river-side, and tried, in the presence of the King, a similar experiment, but with a piece of wood two feet in thickness, which was also divided in two. Velant, thinking even this not good enough, broke it, and in three hours made a third sword, encrusted with gold, which he tried in the same manner, with a piece of wood three feet long and three feet thick, which had the same fate as its predecessors of minor dimensions. The King was quite charmed with this last weapon, and declared that he would have no other.

The great day of trial having arrived, the king's smith first presented himself clothed in a complete suit of armour, the beauty of which excited the admiration of all present. Velant soon after entered the lists. with his sword Minning. The smith seated himself in presence of the whole court, and Velant with one stroke of his sword clove the casque, the head, the cuirass, and the body of the unfortunate smith to the very waist. From thenceforth Velant passed for the most skilful workman in the kingdom, and manufactured for the King many precious articles in gold and silver.

Shortly after this, the King set out with 30,000 cavaliers to attack an enemy that had made an incursion into the kingdom; but, on the eve of the day of battle, he perceived that he had not brought along with him a little stone, which secured the victory to him that carried it about his person. He offered his daughter and the half of his kingdom to any one who would bring it to him by the next morning; but not one of his knights could be found to undertake in so short a time a journey which required several days. The King at length addressed himself to Velant, who immediately set off on one of the king's swiftest horses, and returned the next morning with the stone. But, just as he was entering the royal tent, he met the king's bailly, accompanied by six cavaliers, who offered him a quantity of gold and silver for the stone, and on his refusal the bailly attempted to take it from him by force, but Velant killed him with a single blow of his sword Minning. The King was very glad to receive the stone, but the death of his bailly angered him so much, that he refused to keep his word with Velant, and drove him from his service.

The worthy smith went away meditating plans of vengeance. He disguised himself as a cook, and was hired to serve in the king's kitchen, where he threw a charm over the meats preparing for the princess. There was on the king's table a knife, which always returned a certain sound when it was used in cutting viands that were not perfectly pure. Velant cunningly took away this knife, and replaced it by one which he had made to resemble it exactly. The King and the princess were astonished at finding the viands impure, although the knife had not sounded as usual the tocsin of alarm. They immediately suspected that it was one of Velant's tricks; he was sought after, and discovered. By way of a slight remonstrance for his wag

gery, the King ordered him to be hamstrung and to have the nerves of his feet cut, which spoiled poor Velant's pedestrian powers for the rest of his days. He told the King, that if he would restore him to favour, he would manufacture for him every thing he wished. The King agreed, built a forge, and established him in it, where he constructed an infinity of curious and precious objects. About this time Egil, the brother of Velant arrived at court. He was the most skilful archer of his time. The King ordered him to pierce with an arrow an apple placed upon the head of his own child. Egil took two arrows, struck the apple off with one, and said that with the other he would have pierced the king's heart, if he had had the misfortune to kill his child.

It happened about this time that the king's daughter broke a very precious ring: she sent to Velant to have it repaired, without her father's knowledge. Velant insisted that she should come herself for it. She accordingly went to the forge, when Velant fastened the doors, and violated her person. She lay in, in due course of time, of a son. Shortly after this the king's two sons went to Velant to have some arrows made: he in like manner fastened the doors upon them, and killed them both, and fashioned their bones into drinking-cups and other articles for the use of the table, which he dextrously adorned with gold and silver, and presented them to the King for his great festivals, who took great pride in exhibiting and using these splendid articles. Having thus nearly accomplished his vengeance, he sent his brother Egil to collect all manner of birds' feathers, with which he constructed a pair of wings for himself, and took flight towards the highest tower of the palace. He had first, however, engaged his brother, in case the King should command him to shoot at him, to take aim at his arm-pit, where he had placed a bladder filled with the blood of the two young princes whom he had killed. From the top of the tower Velant told the King that it was he who had violated the princess and killed the princes, as a punishment for the King having broken his oath and driven him from his presence. His majesty immediately ordered Egil, upon pain of death, to shoot at his brother. Egil obeyed and pierced the bladder, and the King was covered with the blood of his own children. Velant then took wing, and directed his flight towards the lands that his father the giant Vade* had left him in Seland.

Such is in substance the contents of the Saga, or the tradition of Velant, which forms a part of the Icelandic Vilkina Saga. It is impossible not to be struck with the resemblance between this tale and the Greek fable concerning Dædalus. The Velant of the Icelanders, like the Grecian Dedalus, was a skilful mechanic, who succeeded in constructing a pair of wings for himself. It is also very remarkable that the word labyrinth, which in Greek is called Dedalos from the name of the inventor, is, in the Icelandic, rendered by the expression Voelundar hus, or the House of Velant. It would appear then that the fable of Dædalus had found its way, at a very early period, into the North, and was confounded and amalgamated with the adventures

This giant Vade appears to be the same of whom Chaucer talks in his Troilus, ch. 3, and who is also mentioned in one of the songs of Ritson's Collection, "He songe, he playde, he tolde a tale of Wade." Tom. 3, p. 256.—Vide Grimm in Irmen-Strasse und Irmensaule. Wien. 1815.

of some skilful artist of the country. The following curious fact renders it highly probable that there did exist a considerable time back, in the North of Europe, a smith of the name of Veland. As late as the sixteenth century the possessors of the lordship of Voetland in Scania bore in their coat of arms a hammer and a pair of pincers *.

But it is by no means an easy task to discover the original source of a tradition. The people of every country, particularly in the early stages of civilization, have acted like children, who eagerly listen to novel or wondrous tales, and then arrange them after their own manner and propagate them in their turn. The antiquary who should wish to arrive at the true source of this tradition of the smith Velant or Wayland, would find the task not an easy one; for in the island of Ceylon in the Indian seas the artists and artisans are called Voelundest. Thus after a long search and a circuitous route, we are brought back at length to the common country of the greater number of most ancient traditions—to India, which may be regarded as the cradle of truths and fables. DG.

ODE TO MAHOMET,

THE BRIGHTON SHAMPOOER.

Nunc opus est succis: per quos, renovata senectus
In florem redeat, primosque recolligat annos. OVID.
O THOU dark sage, whose vapour-bath
Makes muscular as his of Gath,

Limbs erst relax'd and limber:
Whose herbs, like those of Jason's mate,
The wither'd leg of seventy-eight
Convert to stout knee timber:

Sprung, doubtless, from Abdallah's son,
Thy miracles thy sire's outrun,

Thy cures his deaths outnumber :
His coffin soars 'twixt heav'n and earth,
But thou, within that narrow birth,
Immortal, ne'er shalt slumber.
Go, bid that turban'd Musselman
Give up his Mosch, his Ramadan,
And choak his well of Zemzem;
Thy bath, whose magic steam can fling
On Winter's cheek the rose of Spring,
To Lethe's Gulf condemns 'em.
While thus, beneath thy flannel shades,
Fat dowagers and wrinkled maids

Rebloom in adolescence,

I marvel not that friends tell friends,
And Brighton every day extends

Its circuses and crescents.

From either cliff, the East, the West,
The startled sea-gull quits her nest,
The spade her haunts unearthing,
For Speculation plants his hod
On every foot of freehold sod
From Routingdean to Worthing.

* Bring's Monumenta Scanensia, 1598.

+ Asiatic Researches, t. viii.

To woo thee on thy western cliff,
What pilgrims strong, in gig, in skiff,
Fly, donkey-cart, and pillion:
While Turkish dome and minaret
In compliment to Mahomet
O'ertop the King's Pavilion.
Thy fame let worthless wags invade,
Let punsters underrate thy trade,
For me, I'd perish sooner :

Him who, thy opening scene to damn,
Derived shampoo from phoo! and sham!
I dub a base lampooner.

Propell'd by steam to shake from squeak,
Mara, in Lent, shall twice a week'
Again in song be glorious,

While Kelly, laughing Time to scorn,
Once more shall chaunt "Oh thou wert born,"
And Incledon "Rude Boreas."

Godwin avaunt! thy tale thrice told,
Of endless youth and countless gold,
Unbought "repôstum manet.”

St. Leon's secret here we view,
Without the toil of wading through
Three heavy tomes to gain it.

Yet oh, while thus thy waves reveal
Past virtues in the dancer's heel,
And brace the singer's weazon :
Tell, sable wizard, tell the cause
Why limp poor I, from yonder vase,
Whence others jump like Æson?
The cause is plain-though slips of yew
With vervain mingle, sage meets rue,

And myrrh with wolfesbane tosses:
Still shrieks, unquell'd, the water-wraith:
That mustard-seed ingredient, faith,
Is wanting to the
process.

Dip then within thy bubbling wave,
Sage Mahomet, the votive stave

Thy poet now rehearses:

The steam, whose virtues won't befriend

The sceptic bard, perhaps may mend

The lameness of his verses!