Your correspondent, who, in Vol. ii., p. 230., requests to be supplied with "a list of all the theories and publications respecting the ten tribes commonly called the Lost Tribes," will probably be satisfied with that furnished by Basnage's _History of the Jews_, in which, however, he overlooks the theory of Olaus Rudbeckius, Filius, that they are to be found neither in Asia, nor Africa, nor America, but in Lapland! The same author, in a treatise _de Ave Selau, cujus mentio fit Numer._ xi. 31., endeavours to establish an analogy between the Hebrew and Gothic languages. T. J. _Queen Mary's Lament_ (Vol. iii., p. 89.).--The following copy of verses, written by this beautiful and unfortunate princess, during her confinement in Fotheringay Castle, was presented to the public by the kindness of a very eminent and liberal collector:-- "Que suis-je helas? et de quoi sert la vie? J'en suis fors qu'un corps prive de cueur; Un ombre vayn, un objet de malheur, Qui n'a plus rien que de mourir en vie. Plus ne me portez, O enemys, d'envie, Qui n'a plus l'esprit a la grandeur, J'ai consomme d'excessive douleur, Voltre ire en bref de voir assouvie. Et vous amys qui m'avez tenu chere, Souvenez-vous que sans cueur, et sans santey, Je ne scaurois auqun bon oeuvre faire. Souhaitez donc fin de calamitey, Et que _sus bas_ etant assez punie, J'aie ma part en la joie infinie." The verses are written on a sheet of paper, by Mary herself, in a large rambling hand. The following literal translation of them was made by a countrywoman of Mary's, a lady in beauty of person and elegance of mind by no means inferior to that accomplished and unfortunate princess: "Alas, what am I? and in what estate? A wretched corse bereaved of its heart, An empty shadow, lost, unfortunate: To die is now in life my only part. Foes to my greatness, let your envy rest, In me no taste for grandeur now is found; Consum'd by grief, with heavy ills oppress'd, Your wishes and desires will soon be crown'd. And you, my friends, who still have held me dear, Bethink you, that when health and heart are fled, And ev'ry hope of future good is dead, 'Tis time to wish our sorrows ended here; And that this punishment on earth is given, That my pure soul may rise to endless bliss in heaven." Immediately before her execution she repeated the following Latin prayer, composed by herself, {173} and which has been set to a beautiful plaintive air, by Dr. Harington of Bath: "O Domine Deus speravi in te! O care mi Jesu, nunc libera me! In dura catena, in misera poena desidero te! Languendo, gemendo, et genuflectendo, Adoro, imploro, ut liberes me!" It may be thus paraphrased: