May 27, 2006

The others…

Writing about web page http://uk.geocities.com/yuri.leitch@btinternet.com/eleanorlovell.html

I've never really been interested in genealogy or tracing my family history – but it's always interesting to see what a google search throws up…

The other Eleanor Lovells...

Eleanor Lovell died in 1681 – link

A friend of mine saw a ghost of a young woman whilst she was helping out at a school, in a building, which used to be known as Knowle Manor. The staff at the school told my friend, ‘Oh, that would have been Eleanor! A sad story; she died on her wedding day, a long time ago, accidentally locked herself into a large chest in a game of Hide & Seek, died of suffocation.

The Urban Myth about Eleanor being locked in a chest during a game of hide–and–seek, apparently comes from this poem…

The Mistletoe Bough - Thomas Haynes Bayley (1884)

The mistletoe hung in the castle hall
The holly branch shone on the old oak wall.
The Baron's retainers were blithe and gay,
Keeping the Christmas holiday.

The Baron beheld with a father's pride
His beautiful child, Lord Lovell's bride.
And she, with her bright eyes seemed to be
The star of that goodly company.
Oh, the mistletoe bough.
Oh, the mistletoe bough.

"I'm weary of dancing, now," she cried;
"Here, tarry a moment, I'll hide, I'll hide,
And, Lovell, be sure you're the first to trace
The clue to my secret hiding place."

Away she ran, and her friends began
Each tower to search and each nook to scan.
And young Lovell cried, "Oh, where do you hide?
I'm lonesome without you, my own fair bride."
Oh, the mistletoe bough.
Oh, the mistletoe bough.

They sought her that night, they sought her next day,
They sought her in vain when a week passed away.
In the highest, the lowest, the loneliest spot,
Young Lovell sought wildly, but found her not.

The years passed by and their brief at last
Was told as a sorrowful tale long past.
When Lovell appeared, all the children cried,
"See the old man weeps for his fairy bride."
Oh, the mistletoe bough.
Oh, the mistletoe bough.

At length, an old chest that had long laid hid
Was found in the castle; they raised the lid.
A skeleton form lay mouldering there
In the bridal wreath of that lady fair.

How sad the day when in sportive jest
She hid from her lord in the old oak chest,
It closed with a spring and a dreadful doom,
And the bride lay clasped in a living tomb.
Oh, the mistletoe bough.
Oh, the mistletoe bough.

A bit creepy… Let's hope this Eleanor Lovell doesn't meet the same fate!


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About me

My name is Ellie Lovell and I am the Web Editor in the Communications Office at the University of Warwick.

I started this blog in August 2005 when I started working at the University and have learnt a lot from it. I don’t update it so much anymore (I have been unfaithful to WarwickBlogs) but I hope you enjoy what is here…

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