From the Abbot. 1820. (1.)-THE PARDONER'S ADVERTISEMENT. "Ar length the pardoner pulled from his scrip a small phial of clear water, of which he vaunted the quality in the following verses :" Listneth, gode people, everiche one, And is the first londe the sonne espieth, As shall se er that ye pas, Putteth this water under her nese, And yet it is not-no more than the shadow (9.)-CHAP. XXIII. Old Play Give me a morsel on the greensward rather, Coarse as you will the cooking-Let the fresh spring Yes, it is she whose eyes look'd on thy childhood, And watch'd with trembling hope thy dawn of youth, That now, with these same eye-balls, dimm'd with age, And dimmer yet with tears, sees thy dishonor. (13.)-CHAP. Xxx. Old Play. In some breasts passion lies conceal'd and silent, Flatter the waiting-woman, bribe the valet; (16.)-CHAP. XXXV. It is a time of danger, not of revel, (17.)-CHAP. XXXVII. Ay, sir-our ancient crown, in these wild times, The Spanish Father. From Kenilworth. 1821. (1.)-GOLDTHRED'S SONG. "AFTER some brief interval, Master Goldthred, at the earnest instigation of mine host, and the joyous concurrence of his guests, indulged the company with the following morsel of melody:”— Of all the birds on bush or tree, Commend me to the owl, Since he may best ensample be To those the cup that trowl. Then comes at once the lightning and the thun- For when the sun hath left the west, der, And distant echoes tell that all is rent asunder. (14.)-CHAP. XXXIII. Old Play. Death distant?-No, alas! he's ever with us, The Spanish Father. (15.)-CHAP. XXXIV. He chooses the tree that he loves the best, And he whoops out his song, and he laughs at his jest, Then, though hours be late, and weather foul, We'll drink to the health of the bonny, bonny owl. The lark is but a bumpkin fowl, He sleeps in his nest till morn; Then up with your cup till you stagger in speech, Ay, Pedro,-Come you here with mask and lan- And drink till you wink, my merry men each; (10.)-CHAP. Xxx. Now bid the steeple rock-she comes, she comes! Speak for us, bells! speak for us, shrill-tongued | tuckets! Stand to the linstock, gunner; let thy cannon Play such a peal, as if a Paynim foe Thou the destroyer of herds, thou the scatterer of navies, Amidst the scream of thy rage, Amidst the rushing of thy onward wings, Though thy scream be loud as the cry of a perishing nation, Came stretch'd in turban'd ranks to storm the Though the rushing of thy wings be like the roar of ten thousand waves, Yet hear, in thine ire and thy haste, Hear thou the voice of the Reim-kennar. 2. Thou hast met the pine-trees of Drontheim, Their dark-green heads lie prostrate beside their uprooted stems; Thou hast met the rider of the ocean, The tall, the strong bark of the fearless rover, 3. There are verses that can stop the stag in the forest, Ay, and when the dark-color'd dog is opening on his track; There are verses can make the wild hawk pause on the wing, Like the falcon that wears the hood and the jesses, And who knows the shrill whistle of the fowler. Thou who canst mock at the scream of the drown ing mariner, And the crash of the ravaged forest, And the groan of the overwhelm'd crowds, When the church hath fallen in the moment of prayer; There are sounds which thou also must list, When they are chanted by the voice of the Reimkennar. 4. Enough of woe hast thou wrought on the ocean, Let the thunderbolt sleep in the armory of Odin, Be thou still at my bidding, viewless racer of the north-western heaven, Sleep thou at the voice of Norna the Reim-kennai |