A-hunting of the boar astray

Is King Affonso gone:

Slowly, slowly, but straight the while,

Queen Orraca is coming on.

And winding now the train appears
Between the olive-trees:
Queen Orraca alighted then,

And fell upon her knees.

The friars of Alanquer came first,
And next the relics past;-
Queen Orraca look'd to see

The King and his knights come last.

She heard the horses tramp behind;
At that she turn'd her face:
King Affonso and his knights came up
All panting from the chase.

«Have pity upon my poor soul,
Holy martyrs five!» cried she:

« Holy Mary, Mother of God, Virgin, pray for me!»>

That day in Coimbra,

Many a heart was gay;
But the heaviest heart in Coimbra,
Was that poor Queen's that day.

The festival is over,

The sun hath sunk in the west; All the people in Coimbra

Have betaken themselves to rest.

Queen Orraca's father confessor
At midnight is awake;
Kneeling at the Martyr's shrine,

And praying for her sake.

Just at the midnight hour, when all
Was still as still could be,
Into the church of Santa Cruz,
Came a saintly company:

All in robes of russet grey

Poorly were they dight;
Each one girdled with a cord,
Like a friar minorite.

But from those robes of russet grey,
There flow'd a heavenly light;
For each one was the blessed soul
Of a friar minorite.

Brighter than their brethren

Among the beautiful band,
Five there were who each did bear
A palm branch in his hand.

He who led the brethren,

A living man was he;
And yet he shone the brightest
Of all the company.

Before the steps of the altar,

Each one bow'd his bead;
And then with solemn voice they sung
The service of the dead.

«And who are ye, ye blessed saints ?»
The father confessor said;

«And for what happy souls sing ye

The service of the dead?»

" << These are the souls of our brethren in bliss, The Martyrs five are we :

And this is our father Francisco,

Among us bodily.

« We are come hither to perform
Our promise to the Queen;
Go thou to King Affonso,

And say what thou hast seen.»>

There was loud knocking at the door,
As the heavenly vision fled;
And the porter called to the confessor,
To tell him the Queen was dead.

A BALLAD,

1803.

SHEWING HOW AN OLD WOMAN RODE DOUBLE, AND WHO RODE BEFORE HER.

A. D. 852. Circa dies istos, mulier quædam malefica, în villà quæ Berkeleia dicitur degens, gulæ amatrix ac petulantia, flagitiis modum usque in senium et auguriis non ponens, usque ad mortem impudica permansit. Hæc die quadam cam sederet ad prandium, cornicula quam pro delitiis pascebat, nescio quid garrire cœpit; quo audito, mulieris cultellus de manu excidit, simul et facies pallescere cœpit, et emisso rugitu, bodie, inquit, accipiam grande incommodum, hodieque ad sulcum ultimum meum pervenit aratrum. Quo dicto, nuncius doloris intravit; muliere vero percunctata ad quid veniret, affero, inquit, tibi filii tui obitum et totius familia ejus ex subità ruinà interitum. Hoc quoque dolore mulier permota, lecto protinus decubuit graviter infirmata; sentiensque morbum subrepere ad vitalia, liberos quos habuit superstites, monachum

videlicet et monacham, per epistolam invitavit; advenientes autem Voce singultiente alloquitur. Ego, inquit, o pueri, meo miserabili fato dæmoniacis semper artibus inservivi; ego omnium vitiorum sentina, ego illecebrarum omnium fui magistra. Erat tamen mihi inter hæc mala, spes vestræ religionis, quæ meam solidaret animam desperatam; vos expectabam propugnatores contra dæmones, tutores contra sævissimos hostes. Nunc igitur quoniam ad finem vitæ perveni, rogo vos per materna ubera, ut mea tentatis alleviare tormenta. Insuite me defunctam in corio cervino, ac deinde in sarcophago lapideo supponite, operculumque ferro et plumbo constringite, ac demum lapidem tribus cathenis ferreis et fortissimis circundantes, clericos quinquaginta psalmorum cantores, et tot per tres dies presbyteras missarum celebratores applicate, qui feroces lenigent adversariorum incursus. Ita si tribus noctibus secura jacuero, quartà die me infodite humo.

Factumque est ut præceperat illis. Sed, proh dolor! nil preces, nil lachrymæ, nil demum valuere catena. Primis enim duabus noctibus, cum chori psallentiam corpori assistebant, advenientes Damones ostium ecclesiæ confregerunt ingenti obice clausum, extremasque cathenas negotio levi dirumpunt; media autem quæ fortior erat, illibata manebat. Tertia autem nocte, circa gallicinium, strepitu hostium adventantium, omne monasterium visum est a fundamento moveri. Unus ergo dæmonum, et vultu cæteris terribilior et statura eminentior, januas Ecclesiæ impetu violento concussas in fragmenta dejecit. Divexerunt clerici cum laicis, metu steterunt omnium capilli, et psalmorum concentus defecit. Dæmon ergo gestu ut videbatur arroganti ad sepulchrum accedens, et nomen mulieris modicum ingeminans, surgere imperavit. Quà respondente, quod nequiret pro vinculis, jam malo tuo, inquit, solveris; et protinus catbenam quæ cæterorum ferociam dæmonum deluserat, velut stuppeum vinculum rumpebat. Operculum etiam sepulchri pede depellens, mulierem palam omnibus ab ecclesià extraxit, ubi præ foribus niger equus superbe hinniens videbatur, uncis ferreis et clavis undíque confixus, super quem misera mulier projecta, ab oculis assistentium evanuit. Audiebantur tamen clamores per quatuor fere miliaria horribiles, auxilium postulantes.

Ista itaque quæ retuli incredibilia non erunt, si legatur beati Gregorii dialogus, in quo refert, hominem in ecclesià sepultum, a damonibus foras ejectum. Et apud Francos Carolus Martellus insignis vir fortitudinis, qui Saracenos Galliam ingressos, Hispaniam redire compulit, exactis vitæ suæ diebus, in Ecclesia beati Dionysii legitur fuisse sepultus. Sed quia patrimonia, cum decimis omnium fere ecclesiarum Galliæ, pro stipendio commilitonum suorum mutilaverat, miserabiliter a malignis spiritibus de sepulchro corporaliter avulsus, usque in hodiernum diem nusquam comparuit.-Matthew of Westminster.

This story is also related by Olaus Magnus, and in the Nuremberg Chronicle.

THE Raven croak'd as she sate at her meal,
And the Old Woman knew what he said,

And she grew pale at the Raven's tale,
And sicken'd and went to her bed.

«Now fetch me my children, and fetch them with speed,»

The Old Woman of Berkeley said,

<< The monk my son, and my daughter the nun, Bid them hasten or I shall be dead.»>

The monk her son, and her daughter the nun,
Their way to Berkeley went,

And they have brought with pious thought
The holy sacrament.

The Old Woman shriek'd as they enter'd her door, 'T was fearful her shrieks to hear,

«Now take the sacrament away,

For mercy, my

children dear!»>

Her lip it trembled with agony,

The sweat ran down her brow,

<< I have tortures in store for evermore, Oh! spare me, my children, now!»

Away they sent the sacrament,

The fit it left her weak,

She look'd at her children with ghastly eyes, And faintly struggled to speak.

« And see that fifty choristers
Beside the bier attend me,

And day and night by the taper's light,
With holy hymns defend me.

«Let the church bells all both great and small, Be toll'd by night and day,

To drive from thence the fiends who come
To bear my body away.

<< And ever have the church door barr'd
After the even song;

And I beseech you, children dear,
Let the bars and bolts be strong.

« And let this be three days and nights
My wretched corpse to save,
Keep me so long from the fiendish throng,
And then I may rest in my grave.»

The Old Woman of Berkeley laid her down,
And her eyes grew deadly dim,

Short came her breath and the struggle of death
Did loosen every limb.

They blest the old woman's winding-sheet
With rites and prayers due,

With holy water they sprinkled her shroud,
And they sprinkled her coffin too.

And they chain'd her in her coffin of stone, And with iron barr'd it down,

And in the church with three strong chains They chain'd it to the ground.

And they blest the chains and sprinkled them, And fifty priests stood round,

By night and day the mass to say

Where she lay on the ground.

And fifty sacred choristers

Beside the bier attend her,
Who day and night by the taper's light
Should with holy hymns defend her.

To see the priests and choristers
It was a goodly sight,

Each holding, as it were a staff,

A taper burning bright.

And the church bells all both great and small, Did toll so loud and long,

And they have barr'd the church door hard, After the even song.

And the first night the tapers' light

Burnt steadily and clear,

But they without a hideous rout
Of angry fiends could hear;

A hideous roar at the church door

Like a long thunder peal,

And the priests they pray'd and the choristers sung Louder in fearful zeal.

Loud toll'd the bell, the priests pray'd well,
The tapers they burnt bright,

The monk her son, and her daughter the nun,
They told their beads all night.

The cock he crew, the fiends they flew
From the voice of the morning away;
Then undisturb'd the choristers sing,
And the fifty priests they pray;
As they had sung and pray'd all night
They pray'd and sung all day.

The second night the tapers' light
Burnt dismally and blue,

And every one saw his neighbour's face
Like a dead man's face to view.

And yells and cries without arise

That the stoutest heart might shock,

And a deafening roaring like a cataract pouring Over a mountain rock.

The monk and nun they told their beads

As fast as they could tell,

And aye as louder grew the noise

The faster went the bell.

Louder and louder the choristers sung

As they trembled more and more,

And the priests as they pray'd to heaven for aid, They smote their breasts full sore.

The cock he crew, the fiends they flew From the voice of the morning away; Then undisturb'd the choristers sing,

And the fifty priests they pray;

As they had sung and pray'd all night They pray'd and sung all day.

The third night came, and the tapers' flame A hideous stench did make,

And they burnt as though they had been dipt In the burning brimstone lake.

And the loud commotion, like the rushing of ocean,
Grew momently more and more,
And strokes as of a battering ram,

Did shake the strong church door.

The bellmen they, for very fear,
Could toll the bell no longer,
And still as louder grew the strokes,
Their fear it grew the stronger.

The monk and nun forgot their beads,
They fell on the ground in dismay,
There was not a single saint in heaven
To whom they did not pray.

And the choristers' song which late was so strong,
Falter'd with consternation,

For the church did rock as an earthquake shock Uplifted its foundation.

And a sound was heard like the trumpet's blast,
That shall one day wake the dead,
The strong church door could bear no more,
And the bolts and the bars they fled.

And the taper's light was extinguish'd quite,
And the choristers faintly sung,
And the priests dismay'd, panted and pray'd,
And on all Saints in Heaven for aid

They call'd with trembling tongue.

And in He came with eyes of flame,
The Devil to fetch the dead,
And all the church with his presence glow'd
Like a fiery furnace red.

He laid his hand on the iron chains,

And like flax they moulder'd asunder, And the coffin lid, which was barr'd so firm, He burst with his voice of thunder.

And he bade the Old Woman of Berkeley rise,
And come with her master away,

And the cold sweat stood on the cold, cold corpse,
At the voice she was forced to obey.

She rose on her feet in her winding-sheet,
Her dead flesh quiver'd with fear,

And a groan like that which the Old Woman gave
Never did mortal hear.

She follow'd the fiend to the church door,
There stood a black horse there;
His breath was red like furnace smoke,
His eyes like a meteor's glare.

The fiend he flung her on the horse,

And he leapt up before,

And away like the lightning's speed they went,

And she was seen no more.

They saw her no more, but her cries and shrieks
For four miles round they could hear,
And children at rest at their mothers' breast,
Started and screamed with fear.

1798.

THE SURGEON'S WARNING.

The subject of this parody was given me by a friend, to whom also I am indebted for some of the stanzas.

Respecting the patent coffins herein mentioned, after the manner of Catholic Poets, who confess the actions they attribute to their Saints and Deity to be but fiction, I hereby declare that it is by no means my design to depreciate that useful invention; and all persons to whom this Ballad shall some, are requested to take notice, that nothing bere asserted concerning the aforesaid Coffins is true, except that the maker and patentee lives by St Martin's Lane.

THE Doctor whisper'd to the Nurse,

And the Surgeon knew what he said; And he grew pale at the Doctor's tale,

And trembled in his sick-bed.

«Now fetch me my brethren, and fetch them with speed,»

The Surgeon affrighted said;

«The Parson and the Undertaker,

Let them hasten or I shall be dead.»

The Parson and the Undertaker

They hastily came complying,

And the Surgeon's Prentices ran up stairs

When they heard that their master was dying.

The Prentices all they enter'd the room,

By one, by two, by three, With a sly grin came Joseph in,

First of the company.

The Surgeon swore as they enter'd his door,
T was fearful his oaths to hear,—
«Now send these scoundrels out of my sight,
I beseech ye, my brethren dear.>>

He foam'd at the mouth with the rage he felt, And he wrinkled his black eye-brow,

« That rascal Joe would be at me, I know, But zounds let him spare me now!»

Then out they sent the Prentices,

The fit it left him weak,

He look'd at his brothers with ghastly eyes,

And faintly struggled to speak.

« All kinds of carcasses I have cut up,

And the judgment now must be;

But, brothers, I took care of you,
So pray take care of me.

«I have made candles of infants' fat, The Sextons have been my slaves,

I have bottled babes unborn, and dried Hearts and livers from rifled graves.

<< And my Prentices now will surely come And carve me bone from bone,

And I who have rifled the dead man's grave Shall never have rest in my own.

Bury me in lead when I am dead,
My brethren, I entreat,

And see the coffin weigh'd I beg

Lest the Plumber should be a cheat.

«And let it be solder'd closely down,

Strong as strong can be, I implore, And put it in a patent coffin,

That I may rise no more.

<< If they carry me off in the patent coffin Their labour will be in vain,

Let the Undertaker see it bought of the maker, Who lives by St Martin's Lane.

«And bury me in my brother's church,
For that will safer be;

And I implore, lock the church door,
And pray take care of the key.

« And all night long let three stout men
The vestry watch within,

To each man give a gallon of beer,
And a keg of Holland's gin;

« Powder and ball and blunderbuss,
To save me if he can,

And eke, five guineas if he shoot
A resurrection-man.

« And let them watch me for three weeks,
My wretched corpse to save,

For then I think that I may stink
Enough to rest in my grave.»>

The Surgeon laid him down in his bed,
His eyes grew deadly dim,

Short came his breath and the struggle of death
Did loosen every limb.

They put him in lead when he was dead,
And shrouded up so neat,
And they the leaden coffin weigh,

Lest the plumber should be a cheat.

They had it solder'd closely down, And examined it o'er and o'er, And they put it in a patent coffin That he might rise no more.

For to carry him off in a patent coffin,

Would, they thought, be but labour in vain, So the Undertaker saw it bought of the maker, Who lives by St Martin's Lane.

In his brother's church they buried him,

That safer he might be,

They lock'd the door, and would not trust

The Sexton with the key.

And three men in the vestry watch

To save him if they can,

And should he come there to shoot they swear

A resurrection-man.

And the first night by lanthorn light
Through the church-yard as they went,

A guinea of gold the Sexton show'd
That Mister Joseph sent.

But conscience was tough, it was not enough, And their honesty never swerved,

And they bade him go with Mister Joe

To the Devil as he deserved.