Of the three and thirty monks of which the society at Furness was composed, the names of the Abbot, the Prior, and twenty-eight of the brethren, were appended to the deed: two had been committed to ward and sure custody in the King's castle of Lancaster, for being "found faultye:"[17] and one of the number remains unaccounted for. FOOTNOTES: [10] _Saccum._--The power of imposing fines upon tenants and vassals within the lordship. [11] _Soccum._--The power and authority of administering justice. [12] _Tollum._--A duty paid for buying and selling, &c. [13] _Theam, Team._--A royalty granted for trying bondmen and villains, with a sovereign power over their villain tenants, their wives, children, and goods, to dispose of them at pleasure. [14] _Infangenetheof._--The power of judging of thefts committed within the liberty of Furness. [15] _Clibanus_, a portable oven: the term probably represents the quantity of bread contained in it at one baking. [16] This sum is stated by West to be £151, which Mr. Beck says is a mistake. The deed of surrender of Bolton Priory was signed by the Prior and fourteen canons. Of the subscribers to this instrument, two, in 1553, which would be about sixteen years after their dissolution, continued to receive annuities of £6 13s. 4d.; one, £6; seven, £5 6s. 8d. each: and one, £4. The other canons were dead, or otherwise provided for. [17] For treason. One of them, Henry Talley, had said that no secular knave should be head of the Church; and the other had declared that the king was not the true king, and no rightful heir to the crown. KING DUNMAIL. They buried on the mountain's side King Dunmail, where he fought and died. But mount, and mere, and moor again Shall see King Dunmail come to reign. Mantled and mailed repose his bones Twelve cubits deep beneath the stones; But many a fathom deeper down In Grisedale Mere lies Dunmail's crown. Climb thou the rugged pass, and see High midst those mighty mountains three, How in their joint embrace they hold The Mere that hides his crown of gold. There in that lone and lofty dell Keeps silent watch the sentinel. A thousand years his lonely rounds Have traced unseen that water's bounds. His challenge shocks the startled waste, Still answered from the hills with haste, As passing pilgrims come and go From heights above or vales below. When waning moons have filled their year, A stone from out that lonely Mere Down to the rocky Raise is borne, By martial shades with spear and horn. As crashes on the pile the stone, The echoes to the King make known How still their faithful watch they hold In Grisedale o'er his crown of gold. And when the Raise has reached its sum, Again will brave King Dunmail come; And all his Warriors marching down The dell, bear back his golden crown.