I Do too ill in this, And must not think but that a parent's plaint And, what is worst of all, I lost my Will move the heavens to pour forth way in 't. Wit without Money. Chap. XII. As, to the Autumn breeze's buglesound, Various and vague the dry leaves dance their round; Or, from the garner-door, on ether borne, The chaff flies devious from the winnow'd corn; So vague, so devious, at the breath of heaven, From their fix'd aim are mortal counsels driven. misery Upon the head of disobediency. Their child's affection, and control that love Which the High Powers Divine inspire them with. The Hog hath lost his Pearl. AND Soon they spied the merry-men green, And eke the coach-and-four. Chap. XIII. Anonymous. Chap. XXI. Duke upon Duke. WHY, now I have Dame Fortune Couch your trains, and speed your flight, And if she 'scapes my grasp, the fault Safety parts with parting night; by the forelock, The lady said, 'An orphan's state 'Twelve times the rolling year has sped, Since, when from vengeance wild Of fierce Strathallan's Chief I fled, Forth's eddies whelm'd my child.' Twelve times the year its course has borne,' The wandering maid replied; 'Since fishers on Saint Bridget's morn Drew nets on Campsie side. Is this thy castle, Baldwin? Melancholy Displays her sable banner from the donjon, Dark'ning the foam of the whole surge Were I a habitant, to see this gloom I'd wish me in the hut that poorest E'er framed to give him temporary Chap. XI. THIS was the entry, then, these stairs -but whither after? 'Saint Bridget sent no scaly spoil; The cross upon his shoulders borne, 'Joy to the fair!-thy knight behold, Return'd from yonder land of gold; No wealth he brings, nor wealth can need, Save his good arms and battle-steed; 'Joy to the fair! whose constant knight ""Note well her smile!-it edged the blade Which fifty wives to widows made, When, vain his strength and Mahound's spell, Iconium's turban'd Soldan fell. See'st thou her locks, whose sunny glow Half shows, half shades, her neck of snow? Twines not of them one golden thread, But for its sake a Paynim bled." 'Joy to the fair!—my name unknown, Each deed, and all its praise, thine own; Then, oh! unbar this churlish gate, The night-dew falls, the hour is late. Inured to Syria's glowing breath, THE BAREFOOTED FRIAR. I'LL give thee, good fellow, a twelvemonth or twain, To search Europe through from Byzantium to Spain; But ne'er shall you find, should you search till you tire, So happy a man as the Barefooted Friar. Your knight for his lady pricks forth in career. And is brought home at even-song prick'd through with a spear: I confess him in haste-for his lady desires No comfort on earth save the Barcfooted Friar's. Your monarch?-Pshaw! many a prince has been known To barter his robes for our cowl and our gown; But which of us e'er felt the idle desire To exchange for a crown the grey hood of a Friar? The Friar has walk'd out, and where'er he has gone, The land and its fatness is mark'd for his own; He can roam where he lists, he can stop when he tires, For every man's house is the Barefooted Friar's. He's expected at noon, and no wight, till he comes, May profane the great chair, or the porridge of plums; I feel the north breeze chill as death; And grant him bliss who brings thee fame.' Chap. XVII. scat by the fire, Is the undenied right of the Barefooted Friar. |