of Bridge Master was vacant; and his power over the River Lee--for it is doubtless that River which is celebrated in the chorus to this song,--was for a while at an end. But this, although the words and melody of the verses be extremely simple, is all uncertain; and thus, my good Sir, do general traditions float down the stream of Time, without any fixed date; for none regard them as of value enough to record, whilst they are yet known in all their primitive truth. Oh! how many an interesting portion of History has been thus lost! How many a----” “I am glad,” interrupted my visitor at this part of my apostrophe, “to find that I am not the _only_ Antiquary who is apt to be led away from narrative to rhetoric; and who is sometimes induced to declaim when he set out to describe. But you were speaking of the melody to this song, Mr. Barbican; now I would fain hear it, if it live in your memory.” “Give me a draught of sack,” said I, taking up the tankard, “and you shall hear it, as well as my feeble voice, now ‘turning again to childish treble,’ Mr. Postern, hath the skill to chaunt it. But look for nothing fine, Mr. Barnaby: here are none of Von Weber’s notes; and, indeed, I know of nothing which so well characterises it, as that fine description of a popular ballad in _Twelfth Night_:-- ‘Mark it, Cesario, it is old and plain; The Spinsters, and the Knitters in the sun, And the free maids that weave their thread with bones, Do use to chaunt it----’” “Come, my good Sir,” replied Mr. Postern, “no more words on’t, but sing, I pray you.” “Then listen,” answered I, clearing my throat to reach the treble C, with which the melody commences; “but you must sing a part of it, as it stands in this paper, Master Barnaby, for it begins with the chorus; and so here follows the ancient Music to the Song and Dance of London Bridge is broken down.” [Music: _Chorus._ Lon-don Bridge is bro-ken down: Dance o’er my La-dy Lea! Lon-don Bridge is bro-ken down, With a gay La-dee. _Solo._ How shall we build it up a-gain? Dance o’er my La-dy Lea! How shall we build it up a-gain? With a gay La-dee.] “A choice piece of simple melody, indeed,” said Mr. Postern, as I finished the last strain of the solo, “and, certainly, from its extreme plainness, not unlikely to be of some considerable antiquity; but you called it also a dance, Mr. Barbican; pray was it ever adapted to the feet, as well as to the tongue?”