The anecdote upon which the poem is founded was related by a person who about fifty years ago was much acquainted with what was current in some of the principal families in the West of Cumberland. She stated that it was commonly repeated among the servants of the different houses, and was quite credited by them: and that she herself had not any doubt as to the truth of the story, but could not give the period to which the circumstances refer. One of the domestics of the Hall was said to have been surprised by her master in the manner described, and to have been overheard by him, uttering the words,-- "Who knows what may happen, or what may befall? I may be Lady of Workington Hall!" The butler was instructed to repeat the words publicly in the presence of the Maid, who fled from the mansion, overwhelmed with confusion. She subsequently formed a matrimonial alliance with a principal member of the family; and thus in a manner her prediction was verified. Such was the story, and such the narrator. It may be added, that the published notices of the family are devoid of anything to give confirmation to the story; but as it was related in the neighbourhood in the spirit alluded to, a place has been given to it among the traditions of Cumberland. FOOTNOTE: [8] "John Preston of the Manor in Furness, Esquire, married Margaret daughter of Sir Thos. Curwen, of Workington, and had issue, tempore Henry VIII." THE ALTAR ON CROSS-FELL. (FORMERLY FIENDS'-FELL.) Come listen and hear of the Fiends'-Fell dread; And the helm of storm that shrouds its head, When the imps and cubs of Evil that tread Its summit, their strifes are waging: Who made their haunt on its topmost height, And down the valleys came often by night, To affright the Shepherds, the herds to blight, And set the strong winds raging. Ah, dwellers in peaceful vales afar! The cloudy Helm and the dismal Bar-- You know whose work on the Fell they are; And you know whose wort they are brewing. And you wish that the saintly Augustine A warier man on his errand had been, When the lizard crept into his chalice unseen, The power of his spells undoing. For he came, by good men sought, they say, To the Fiends'-Fell foot, a weary way, To chase the fiends from the cloud that lay On its summit, as if to hide it. At an hour unmarked, by paths unknown, He climbed up the mountain side alone, And built on the top an altar of stone, And reared the cross beside it. And there within that mighty cloud, Where wrathful spirits were raging loud, The old good man, with mind unbow'd, But body so oft-times bending, Moved to and fro on the haunted top, And gathered the stones from off the slope, Nor bated a jot of heart or hope While the Altar pile was ascending.