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That very morn the Landlord's power
Had seized the little left.
Of every thing hereft.
He leant his head upon his hand,
His elbow on his knee,
And not a word said he.
Nay—why so downcast? Jaspar cried,
Come, cheer up, Jonathan! Drink, neighbour, drink! 'twill warm thy heart—
Come! come! take courage, man!
He took the cup that Jaspar gave,
I have a wife, said Jonathan,
She has no bed to lie upon,
I saw them take her bed—
That they and I were dead!
Our Landlord he goes home to-night
And he will sleep in peace—
For there all troubles cease.
In vain I pray'd him to forbear,
God be to him as merciless
When Jaspar saw the poor man's soul
On all his ills intent,
And with him forth he went.
This landlord on his homeward road
'Twere easy now to meet.
And vengeance, man! is sweet.
He listen'd to the tempter's voice,
His head was hot, and wretchedness
Along the lonely road they went
And waited for their prey,
That cross'd the lonely way.
They sate them down beside the stream,
And never a word they said, They sate and listen'd silently
To hear the traveller's tread.
The night was calm, the night was dark,
No star was in the sky,
The stream llow'il quietly
The night was calm, the air ni still
The soul of Jonathan was sooth'd.
'Tis weary waiting here, he cried,
Methinks he will not come to-night
Have patience, man! the ruffian said.
A little we may wait,
Her husband at the gate.
Then Jonathan grew sick at heart,
Jaspar—it is not yet too late—
How now! cried Jaspar; why, I UiMgfc
No more such qualms, the night It itA.
What matters that, said Jonathan,
When there is One above whose eye
We are safe enough, said Jaspar thei.
If that be all thy fear!
Can pierce the darkness here.
That instant as the murderer spake
Strong as the mid-day-sun it shone,
It hung upon the willow-tree,
It hung upon the flood,
And all the scene of blood.
The traveller who journies there,
He surely hath espied
Upon the river's side.
His cheek is pale, his eye is wild.
For Jaspar since that hour has made
And fearful arc his dreams at nifbt
He thinks upon his untold crime.
The summer-suns, the winter-storoii
O'er him unheeded roll.
Upon the maniac's soul!
No eye beheld when William plunged
No human ear but William's heard
Submissive all the vassals own'd
And he, as rightful heir, possess'd
The ancient house of Erlingford
Stood in a fair domain,
Roll'd through the fertile plain.
And often the way-faring man
Forgetful of his onward road,
But never could Lord William dare
In every wind that swept its waves
In vain, at midnight's silent hour,
In every dream the murderer saw
In vain by restless conscience driven
Far from the scenes that saw his guilt,
To other climes the pilgrim fled,
But could not fly despair;
Was still a stranger there.
Slow were all passing hours, yet swift
And now the day return'd that shook
A day that William never felt
Return without dismay,
Young Edmund's dying day.
A fcnrful day was that! the rains
Fell fast with tempest-roar,
Far on the level shore.
In vain Lord William sought the feast,
In vain he quaffd the bowl.
The anguish of his soul;
The tempest, as its sudden swell
In gusty howlings came, With cold and death-like feelings scem'd
To thrill his shuddering frame.
Reluctant now, as night came on,
His lonely couch he prest;
To sleep—but not to rest.
Beside that couch his brother's form,
Such and so pale as when in death
Such and so pale his face as when
To William's care, a dying charge,
"I bade thee with a father's love
My orphan Edmund guard— Well, William, hast thou kept thy charge!
Now take thy due reward."
He started up, each limb convulsed
With agonizing fear:
Twas music to his ear.
When lo! the voice of loud alarm
His inmost soul appals:
The water saps thy walls!
He rose in haste, beneath the walls
He saw the flood appear; It hemm'd him round, 'twas midnight now,
No human aid was near.
He heard the shout of joy, for now
A boat approach'd the wall. And eager to the welcome aid
They crowd for safety all.
My boat is small, the boatman cried,
Twill bear but one away;
In God's protection stay.
Strange feeling fill'd them at his voice,
Even in that hour of woe,
Who wish'd with him to go.
But William leapt into the boat,
His terror was so sore;
Haste—haste to yonder shore.
The boatman plied the oar, the boat
Went light along the stream; Sudden Lord William heard a cry
Like Edmund's drowning scream.
The boatman paused: Mi'thought I heard
A child's distressful cry!
Lord William made reply.
Haste, haste—ply swift and strong the oar!
Haste—haste across the stream! Again Lord William heard a cry
Like Edmund's drowning scream.
I heard a child's distressful voice,
The boatman cried again.
And we should search in vain.
O God! Lord William, dost thou know
How dreadful 'tis to die?
A child's expiring cry?
How horrible it is to sink
Beneath the closing stream,
In vain for help to scream!
The shriek again was heard: it came
That instant o'er the flood the moon
And near them they beheld a child,
Upon a crag he stood,
Was spread the rising flood.
The boatman plied the oar, the boat
Approoch'd his resting-place;
And show'd how pale his face.
Now reach thine hand! the boatman cried,
The child stretch'd forth his little hands
Then William shriek'd; the hand he touch'd
Was cold and damp and dead! He felt young Edmund in his arms
A heavier weight than lead.
The boat sunk down, the murderer sunk
Beneath the avenging stream,
Heard William's drowning scream.
Tiikbr was an old man breaking stones
To mend the turnpike-way; He sate him down beside a brook, And out his bread and cheese he look. For now it was mid-day.
He leant his back against a post,
His feet the brook ran by; And there were water-cresses growing. And pleasant was the water's flowing,
For he was hot and dry.
A soldier with his knapsack os
Came travelling o'er the dim; The sun was strong and he vsi tini And he of the old man enquired: How far to Bristol town?
Half an hour's walk for a yoasr, su
By lanes and fields and stiki; But you the foot-path do not lorn And if along the road you go Why then 'tis three good milr.
The soldier took his knapsack nil.
For he was hot and dry; And out his bread and cheese he U*t And he sat down beside the brook
To dine in company.
Old friend! in faith, the soldier •»;•
I envy you almost; My shoulders have been sorely pr- -' And I should like to sit and rest
My back against that post
In such a sweltering day as this
A knapsack is the devil!
But moke me seem uncivil.
The old man laugh'd and moved—i i*1
It were a great-ami'd chair! But this may help a man at nrei:And yet it was a cursed deed That ever brought it there.
There's a poor girl lies buried bm.
Beneath this very place. The earth upon her corpse is pre»l The stake is driven into her brestt.
And a stone is on her face.
The soldier had but just leant bait
And now he half rose up. There's sure no harm in dining bm My friend 't and yet, to be sincerr. I should not liko to sup.
God rest her! she is still enough
Who sleeps beneath my feet! The old man cried.—No harm I tr»' She ever did herself, though nov She lies where four roads meet
I have past by about that hour
It did not make my courage fail.
And I have heard the nightingale
I have past by about that boor
When Ghosts their freedom hs" ■ But there was here no ghastly «if»u And quietly the glow-worm's light Was shining on her grave.
There's one who like a Christian lies
Ilencath the church-tree's shade; I'd rather go a long mile round Than pass at evening through the ground Wherein that man is laid.
There's one who in the church-yard lies
For whom the bell did toll; lie lies in consecrated ground, But for all the wealth in Bristol town
I would not be with his soul!
Didst see a house below the hill
Twas then a farm where he did dwell,
And I remember it full well
And she was a poor parish-girl
I'rom service hard she ran away,
And at that house in evil day
I'hc man he was a wicked man,
And an evil life he led; lage made his face grow deadly white, V ml his gray eyes were large and light,
And in anger they grew red.
riie man was had, the mother worse,
Bad fruit of evil stem; I'm oulri make your hair to stand on-end f I should tell to you, my friend,
The things that were told of them!
lidst sec an out-house standing by V
The walls alone remain; t was a stable then, but now is mossy roof has fallen through
All rotted by the rain.
he poor girl she had served with them
Some half-a-year or more,
'lien she was found hung up one day,
tiff as a corpse and cold as clay,
Behind that stable-door!
is a wild and lonesome place,
id there were strange reports about;
lis was the very place he chose,
They carried her upon a board
In the clothes in which she died; I saw the cap blow off her head, Her face was of a dark dark red, Her eyes were starting wide:
I think they could not have been closed,
So widely did they strain.
For I saw it in dreams again.
They laid her here where four roads meet,
Beneath this very place.
And a stone is on her face.
GOD'S JUDGMENT ON A BISHOP.
Thk summer and autumn had been so wet,
Every day the starving poor
At last Bishop Hatto appointed a day
Rejoiced such tidings good to hear,
Then when he saw it could hold no more,
I'fnith 'tis an excellent bonfire! quoth he,
So then to his palace returned he.
In the morning as he enter'd the hall,
Another came running presently,
I'll go to my tower in the Rhine, replied he,
Bishop Hatto fearfully hastcn'd away,
He laid him down and closed his eyes;
Helisten'd and look'd ;—it was only the cat;
For they have swam over the river so deep,
Down on his knees the Bishop fell,
And faster and faster his bends did he tell,
As louder and louder drawing near
The saw of their teeth without he could hear.
And in at the windows and in at the door, And through the walls by thousands they
pour, And down from the ceiling and up through
the floor, From the right and the left, from behind
and before, From within and without, from above and
below, And all at once to the Bishop they go.
They have whetted their teeth against the
stones. And now they pick the Bishop's bones, They gnnw'tl the flesh from every limb. For they were sent to do judgment on him!
Fr.incoiiPetrarque.fort renomme entre leePstoi ltaliens, disconrant en nne cpistre Sob rejiga de France et de lAlleroagne, nous raconte est passant par la villc d'Aii, il apprit de qoelqin Pre 'sire* nne hieloire prodigieuse qu'ile teaoieit de main en main pour Ires veritable. Qui ctue que Charles le Grand, apres avoir conqotrr pluaienra pays, a'eajierdit de telle faeoa ea faraour d'nne simple femme, que mettant tout k» nenr et reputation en arnere, il oublia u> settlement lea affaires de son royaume, aau anaai le soin de aa propre peraonne, an graii deaplaieir de chacun eatant settlement eataata* a court iser ceate dame: laqnelle par bonkn: commenca a a'aliter d'nne grosse maladie. ati lni apporta la mort. Dont lea Princes et gnat Seigneura fnrent fort reajonia, eeperana que Hi ceate mort, Charles reprendroit comme drvnt et sea eeprita et lea anairea da royaome ea mia-. tonteefoia il ee trouva tenement infatue de cast amoar, qa' encores cheriseoit-il ce cadavre. Teabraeaant, baiaant, accolant de la mesne facta est devant, et an lieu de preater l'oreille a»i leptiona qui lui aurvenoient, il 1'entreteBoit at mille bayee, comme a'il euat eate pleia de tit. Ce corpe commencoit deja non settlement a an) aentir, maia auasi ae tournoit en putrefaction, R neantmoina n'y avoit ancun de sea favorif eoi luy en osaet parler; dont advint que 1'ArcW veaque Turpin mieiix advise que lea antrea, p*er penaa qne telle chose ne ponvoit eetre adiesac Bans quelqne sorcellerie. Au moyen de esaj eBpiant un Jour l'heure qne le Roy aVatait aaeente de la chambre, commenca de foutller )•corpa de toutesparta, finalement troova dans at bouche au deesoua de sa langue un anaeaa eel] lui oata. Ce jour meamc Charlcmaigiie retesr nant aur aea premierea brteeee, ae troaia fart eatonne de voir une carcaaae ainai pnaate. Par quoy, comme a'il ae fust reeveille d'nn prsisaa sommcil, enmmanda que Ton Tenaevelist prnstment. Ce qui fut fait; maia en eoatr'escsasfr de ceste folie, il tourna tons see peasemeaeirn l'Archeveeque porteur de ceet aaaeaa, ae »» vain eetre de la en avant aans lui, et le savna en tons lea endroita. Quoy voyaat ce sajre Preht et craignant que cest anneau ne tonibaat en aaana de quelqne autre, le jetta daas ua lac peecsjie de la ville. Depnia lequel tempi on dit ajaaat Roy ae trouve ai eapria de l'amonr da lien, es'il ne deaempara la ville d'Aix, on il batit aa fa laia, et un Monaaterc, en I'un desquels il par* le reate de sea joura et en Paotre vonlat ntrc ensevely, nrdonnant par aon testament que laat lee Empersura de Home euaaent a sefaire astro premierement en ce lieu. Ptsqvua, 1111.
It was strange that he loved her, for ywrxi
in her eye. And all but the Monarch could plainly descry From whence came her white and her rra
Yet he thought with Agatha none mici-
there. To him she alone among worurn arras' fair. Such dotage possess'd ('Imrleninin