ADVERTISEMENT.--Gray's 'Elegy,' previous to its publication, was handed about in MS., and had, amongst other admirers, the Lady Cobham, who resided in the mansion-house at Stoke-Pogeis. The performance inducing her to wish for the author's acquaintance, Lady Schaub and Miss Speed, then at her house, undertook to introduce her to it. These two ladies waited upon the author at his aunt's solitary habitation, where he at that time resided, and not finding him at home, they left a card behind them. Mr Gray, surprised at such a compliment, returned the visit; and as the beginning of this intercourse bore some appearance of romance, he gave the humorous and lively account of it which the 'Long Story' contains. 1 In Britain's isle, no matter where, An ancient pile of building[1] stands: The Huntingdons and Hattons there Employ'd the power of fairy hands, 2 To raise the ceiling's fretted height, Each pannel in achievements clothing, Rich windows that exclude the light, And passages that lead to nothing. 3 Full oft within the spacious walls, When he had fifty winters o'er him, My grave Lord-Keeper[2] led the brawls: The seal and maces danced before him. 4 His bushy beard and shoe-strings green, His high-crown'd hat and satin doublet, Moved the stout heart of England's Queen, Though Pope and Spaniard could not trouble it. 5 What, in the very first beginning, Shame of the versifying tribe! Your history whither are you spinning? Can you do nothing but describe? 6 A house there is (and that's enough) From whence one fatal morning issues A brace of warriors, not in buff, But rustling in their silks and tissues. 7 The first came _cap-à-pie_ from France, Her conquering destiny fulfilling, Whom meaner beauties eye askance, And vainly ape her art of killing. 8 The other Amazon kind Heaven Had arm'd with spirit, wit, and satire; But Cobham had the polish given, And tipp'd her arrows with good nature. 9 To celebrate her eyes, her air-- Coarse panegyrics would but tease her; Melissa is her _nom de guerre;_ Alas! who would not wish to please her! 10 With bonnet blue and capuchine, And aprons long, they hid their armour; And veil'd their weapons, bright and keen, In pity to the country farmer. 11 Fame, in the shape of Mr P--t, (By this time all the parish know it), Had told that thereabouts there lurk'd A wicked imp they call a Poet, 12 Who prowl'd the country far and near, Bewitch'd the children of the peasants, Dried up the cows, and lamed the deer, And suck'd the eggs, and kill'd the pheasants. 13 My Lady heard their joint petition, Swore by her coronet and ermine, She'd issue out her high commission To rid the manor of such vermin.