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CLVIII.

THOMAS LOVE PEACOCK, 1785-1866.

THE FRIAR'S SONG.

HOUGH I be now a gray, gray friar,

THOU

Yet I was once a hale young knight:
The cry of my dogs was the only choir
In which my spirit did take delight.

Little I recked of matin bell,

But drowned its toll with my clanging horn:

And the only beads I loved to tell

Were the beads of dew on the spangled thorn.

An archer keen I was withal,

As ever did lean on greenwood tree; And could make the fleetest roebuck fall, A good three hundred yards from me.

Though changeful time, with hand severe,
Has made me now these joys forego,
Yet my heart bounds whene'er I hear
Yoicks! hark away! and tally ho

CLIX.

THE WAR-SONG OF DINAS VAWR.

THE mountain sheep are sweeter,

But the valley sheep are fatter;

We therefore deemed it meeter

To carry off the latter.

We made an expedition ;

We met an host and quelled it ;

We forced a strong position,

And killed the men who held it.

On Dyfed's richest valley,

Where herds of kine were browsing,
We made a mighty sally,

To furnish our carousing.

Fierce warriors rushed to meet us;

We met them, and o'erthrew them :

They struggled hard to beat us,

But we conquered them, and slew them.

As we drove our prize at leisure,
The king marched forth to catch us :
His rage surpassed all measure,
But his people could not match us.

He fled to his hall-pillars;

And, ere our force we led off,

Some sacked his house and cellars,

While others cut his head off.

We there, in strife bewildering,
Spilt blood enough to swim in :
We orphaned many children,
And widowed many women.
The eagles and the ravens
We glutted with our foemen;
The heroes and the cravens,
The spearmen and the bowmen.

We brought away from battle,

And much their land bemoaned them,

Two thousand head of cattle,

And the head of him who owned them:

Ednyfed, King of Dyfed,

His head was borne before us;

His wine and beasts supplied our feasts,

And his overthrow, our chorus.

CLX.

EYOND the sea, beyond the sea,

BE

My heart is gone, far, far from me;

And ever on its track will flee

My thoughts, my dreams, beyond the sea.

Beyond the sea, beyond the sea,
The swallow wanders fast and free:
Oh! happy bird, were I like thee,
I, too, would fly beyond the sea.

Beyond the sea, beyond the sea,
Are kindly hearts and social glee:
But here for me they may not be:
My heart is gone beyond the sea.

CLXI.

LADY CLARINDA'S SONG.

N the days of old,

IN

Lovers felt true passion,

Deeming years of sorrow
By a smile repaid.

Now the charms of gold,
Spells of pride and fashion,
Bid them say good morrow
To the best-loved maid.

Through the forests wild,
O'er the mountains lonely,
They were never weary
Honour to pursue:

If the damsel smiled
Once in seven years only,

All their wanderings dreary

Ample guerdon knew.

Now one day's caprice

Weighs down years of smiling,
Youthful hearts are rovers,

Love is bought and sold:
Fortune's gifts may cease,
Love is less beguiling;
Wiser were the lovers,
In the days of old.

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