On Keston Heath wells up the Ravensbourne, And crossing meads, and footpaths, gath'ring tribute, Whence, with large increase it rolls on, to swell Before I had seen Keston I heard, at West Wickham, that it had been the site of Roman camp, and that a Roman bath was still there. It was from curiosity towards this piece of antiquity that I first visited the spot, in company with my friend W—. The country people, whom we met on our way, spoke of it as the "Old Bath," and the "Cold Bath," and as a water of great virtue, formerly bathed in, and still resorted to, by persons afflicted with weak or sprained limbs, which by dipping in this bath became cured. Our walk from Wickham was remarkably pleasant; we passed noble oaks of many VOL. II.-48. centuries' growth, and descended from the broad open highway into an old road on our left, a ravine, or intrenchment perchance, clothed with tendril plants and blossoming briars, festooning and arching over wild flowers growing amid the verdure of its high banks. Here we paced up hill, till we reached an open, lofty tract of heathland, in a rude, uncultivated, picturesque state, with a few houses in distant parts, surrounded by thriving plantations. On our left were the woodlands of the pleasant village of Hayes, remarkable for having been the seat of the great earl of Chatham, and the birthplace of his well-remembered son: on our right were the heights of Holwood, and fine forest scenery. Near a cluster of cottages immediately before us there was a mill, with its sails going; these we scarcely glanced at, but made our way to an old alehouse, the sign of the Fox, where an ancient labourer, sitting at the door, directed us to "the Bath." We found it in a romantic little bottom, immediately under the gates of Holwood. The delightful landscape, from the opening of this dell towards London and beyond it, so much engaged our attention, that for a while we forgot the "Bath," on the brink of which we were standing. There is no appearance of its having been a bathingplace, and certainly it has not the least character of a Roman bath. It is simply a well of fine pellucid water, which gently overflowing threads a small winding channel in the herbage, and suddenly expands, till it seems bounded by an embankment and line of trees. This is the road to the pleasant inn" Keston Cross." In the distance are the Kentish and Essex hills, with the dome of the metropolitan cathedral. Presuming that information respecting the spring might be obtained at Holwood we reascended, and inquired of several labourers employed in levelling and gravelling the avenue; but we derived nothing satis factory till a Keston man, working at a distance, came up, and told us that it was the source of the Ravensbourne. I had formerly heard and read of a tradition respecting this spring, and now that I unexpectedly found myself upon its margin, recollection of the story heightened the interest of the scene. The legend runs, that when Cæsar was encamped here his troops were in great need of water, and none could be found in the vicinity. Observing, however, that a raven frequently alighted near the camp, and conjecturing that it was for the purpose of quenching its thirst, he ordered the coming of the bird to be watched for, and the spot to be particularly noted; this was done, and the result was as he anticipated. The object of the raven's resort was this little spring; from thence Cæsar derived a supply of water for the Roman legions, and from the circumstance of its discovery the spring was called the Raven's bourne, or the Raven's brook. From the lodge at Holwood, W. obtained the loan of a chair, and taking his seat on the brink of the well, sketched the view represented in his engraving of it above. If the account of Holwood* in 1792 be * In col. 626. correct, this spring, there called "Cæsar's Spring," was then a public cold bath, ornamented with trees, and a dressing-house on the brink. Hasted, in 1778,* gives a view of the Roman intrenchments on Holwood Hill, and figures the ancient road to the spring of the Ravensbourne, as running down to it from where Holwood gates now stand: he also figures the spring with twelve trees planted round it. Now, however, there is not a vestige of tree or building, but there are in the ground the stumps of a poled fencing, which was standing within recollection. On further examination I found the well bricked round, but the bricks at the top edge had decayed, or been thrown in; and the interior brickwork is lined with hair moss and other water-weeds. On the side opposite to that whereon a man is represented in the engraving, I traced the remains of steps for descending into the well as a bath. Its circle is about nine feet in diameter. At what time it commenced, or ceased, to be used as a bath, is uncertain. Here, then, about twelve miles from London, in a delightful country, is a spring, rendered venerable by immemorial tradition and our ancient annals; and which, during eighteen centuries, from the time of its alleged discovery by Cæsar, has remain ed open to general use. Sorry therefore am I to add, that there are rumours of wish to enclose this public relic of by gone ages. I invite public attention to the place and to the report. Even at this sea son the lover of natural scenery will find charms at the source of the Ravensbourne, and be able to imagine the beauty of the surrounding country in summer. Had I a right of common on Keston Heath, rather than assist in a base "homage," to colour ably admit the enclosure of "Cæsar's Spring," I would surrender my own right, and renounce community and neighbourhood with the heartless hirelings, who would defraud themselves and the public of the chief attraction to Keston Common. At so small a distance from London I know d nothing so remarkable in history as this spring. On no pretence ought the public to be deprived of it. There are rights nature as well as of property: when the claims of the latter are urged too pertina ciously against the former, it is time to c out; and if middle men do not interfere to prevent the oppression, they will, in their turn, cry aloud when there will be none help them. • History of Kent, folio, vol. iz 199. Atreus, having recovered his Wife, and Kingdom, from his brother Thyestes, who ad usurped both, and sent him into banish ent, describes his offending Queen. Atreus (solus). --still she lives; fer hardships, though, she owes to her own choice. or what is it to me? I never sleep: nd she'll take nothing but what feeds her grief. Philisthenes, the Son of Thyestes, at a tolen interview with Antigone, the daughr of Atreus, is surprised by the King's pies: upon which misfortune Antigone wooning, is found by Peneus. Intigone. Peneus, an ancient retainer to the Court of Mycenæ. Peneus. Ha! what is she that sleeps in open air? deed the place is far from any path, it what conducts to melancholy thoughts;) it those are beaten roads about this Court. r habit calls her, Noble Grecian Maid; it her sleep says, she is a stranger here. 1 birds of night build in this Court, but Slcep; id flies away from all. I wonder how is maid has brought it to her lure so tame. Antigone, (waking from her swoon). Oh my Philis thenes! Peneus. She wakes to moan; e, that's the proper language of this place! Antigone. My dear, my poor Philisthenes! thow 'tis so! oh horror! death hell! ohPeneus. I know her now; 'tis fair Antigone, e daughter and the darling of the King. is is the lot of all this family.* auteous Antigone, thou know'st me well; m old Peneus, one who threescore years is loved and serv'd thy wretched family. part thy sorrows to me; I perhaps my wide circle of experience ty find some counsel that may do thee good. Antigone. O good old man! how long have here? Peneus. I came but now. Antigone. O did you see this way you r young Philisthenes? you know him well. Peneus. Thy uncle's son, Thyestes' eldest sonAntigone. The same, the same The descendants of Tantalus. been Peneus. Why dost thou rend that beauteous ornament? In what has it offended? hold thy hands. Peneus. She faints, she swoons, I frighten'd her, Antigone. There is no help for me in heav'n or earth. Peneus. There is, there is; despair not, sorrowful maid, All will be well. I'm going to the King, Antigone. I'll be disposed of, father, as you please, Till I receive the blest or dreadful doom. Peneus. Then come, dear daughter, lean upon my arm, Which old and weak is stronger yet than thine; I never hear of grief, but when I'm here; Atreus, to entrap his brother Thyestes; who has lived a concealed life, lurking in woods, to elude his vengeance; sends Philisthenes and old Peneus to him with offers of reconciliation, and an invitation to Court, to be present at the nuptials of Antigone with Philisthenes. Thyestes. Philisthenes. Thy. Welcome to my arms, Peneus. My hope, my comfort! Time has roll'd about Phil. Strange things indeed to chase you to this sad Dismal abode; nay, and to age, I think: I see that winter thrusting itself forth Long, long before its time, in silver hairs. Thy. My fault, my son; I would be great and high; Snow lies in summer on some mountain tops. Ah, Son! I'm sorry for thy noble youth, Thou hast so bad a father; I'm afraid, Fortune will quarrel with thee for my sake. Thou wilt derive unhappiness from me, Like an hereditary ill disease. Phil. Sir, I was born, wher you were innocent; And all the ill you have contracted since, Thyestes is won from his retirement by the joint representations of Philisthenes and Peneus, of the apparent good faith, and returning kindness of his brother; and visits Mycence-his confidence; his returning misgivings. Thyestes. Philisthenes. Peneus. Thy. O wondrous pleasure to a banish'd man, Had from some mountain travell'd toward this place, On morning beams, and meet my eyes in throngs; Thy. But with them Atreus too Phil. What ails my father, that he stops, and shakes, And now retires? Thy. Return with me, my son, And old friend Peneus, to the honest beasts, Pen. Talk you of villainy, of foes, and fraud? Pen.. What are these to him? Thy. Nearer than I am, for they are himself. Pen. Gods drive these impious thoughts out of your mind. Thy. The Gods for all our safety put them there.Return, return with me. Pen. Against our oaths? I cannot stem the vengeance of the Gods. The day of the pretended NuptialsAtreus feigns a returning love for his Queen. Erope. O this is too much joy for me to bear: You build new palaces on broken walls. Atreus. Come, let our new-born pleasures breathe sweet air; This room's too vile a cabinet for gold. Then leave for ever, Love, this doleful place, Pen. Fear you not men or Gods? Atr. The fear of Gods ne'er came in Pelops' House Atr. This day shall be To Argos an eternal festival. Thy. Fortune and I to day both try our strengths The monster to the top of arrogance; Thy. O these extremes of misery and joy I, who in banishment ne'er wept, weep now. * A hint of the dreadful banquet which he medi at which the Sun is said to have turned away horses. The mangled limbs of his son Philisthenes, vid Atreus has set before him. Atr. Brother, regard it not; 'tis fancy all. isery, like night, is haunted with ill spirits, nd spirits leave not easily their haunts; is said, sometimes they'll impudently stand flight of beams from the forlorn of day, nd scorn the crowing of the sprightly cocks :rother, 'tis morning with our pleasure yet. or has the sprightly wine crow'd oft enough. e in great flagons at full length it sleeps, nd lets these melancholy thoughts break in pon our weaker pleasures, Rouse the wine, nd bid him chase these fancies hence for shame. that reverend unvanquish'd Bowl, ill up Vho many a giant in his time has fallen, nd many a monster; Hercules not more. Thy. If he descends into my groaning breast, Ake Hercules, he will descend to hell Atr. And he will vanquish all the monsters there. Brother, your courage with this Hero try; le o'er our House has reign'd two hundred years, and he's the only king shall rule you here. Thy. What ails me, I cannot heave it to my lips? Atr. What, is the bowl too heavy? Thy. No; my heart. Atr. The wine will lighten it. Thy. The wine will not Some near my lips. Atr. Why should they be so strange? They are near a-kin. Thy. A-kin? Atr. As possible; father and son not nearer. Atr. Does not good wine beget good blood? Atr. Your lips then and the wine may be a-kin. o die alone, bewilder'd in that bowl. (Thycstes drinks. A clap of thunder. The lights Thy. What pond'rous crimes pull heav'n upon our heads? 'ature is choak'd with some vast villainy, nd all her face is black. Atr. Some lights, some lights. Thy. The sky is stunn'd, and reels 'twixt night and day; ld Chaos is return'd. - Atr. It is to see young One born, more dreadful than herself; hat promises great comfort to her age, Liston has married Fanny Tyrer: I was resolv'd I would be curst I like a rib, but not a spare-rib, I got one broad as she is long Go and do better, if I'm wrong." CHARLES JENNENS, ESQ. One of the most singular characters of his day was Charles Jennens, Esq., a sort of literary Bubb Doddington. Being born to a good estate, from his boyhood he was ridiculously fond of show and pomp, and |