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| When he sat down to the royal fare

Bishop Bruno was the saddest man there; Bishop Bruno awoke in the dead midnight, But when the masquers enter'd the ball, And ho heard his heart beat loud with af-He was the merriest man of all.

fright: He dreamt he had rung the palace-bell,

Then from amid the masquers' crowd And the sound it gave was his passing knell.

There went a voice hollow and loud,

You have past the day, Bishop Bruno, in glee! Bishop Bruno smiled at his fears so vain, He turned to sleep and he dreamt again;

But you must pass the night with me! He rung at the palace-gate once more, And Death was the porter that open'd the door. His cheek grows pale, and his eye-balls glare,

And stiff round his tonsure bristles his hair; He started up at the fearful dream,

With that there came one from the masquers' And he heard at his window the screech-owl

band scream!

And took the Bishop by the hand. Bishop Bruno slept no more that night,Oh! glad was he when he saw the day-light! The bony hand suspended his breath,

His marrow grew cold at the touch of Death; Now he goes forth in proud array,

On saints in vain he attempted to call, For he with the Emperor dines to-day; Bishop Bruno fell dead in the palace-hall. There was not a Baron in Germany That went with a nobler train than he.

Before and behind his soldiers ride,
The people throng'd to see their pride; LA TRUE BALLAD OF ST. ANTIDIUS,
They bow'd the head, and the knee they bent, THE POPE, AND THE DEVIL.
But nobody blest him as he went.

It is Antidius the Bishop
So he went on stately and proud,

Who now at even-tide
When he heard a voice that cried aloud: Taking the air and saying a prayer,
Ho! ho! Bishop Bruno! you travel with Walks by the river-side.

But I would have you know,you travel to me!

| The Devil had business that evening,

And he upon earth would go; Behind and before and on either side,

For it was in the month of August,
He look'd, but nobody he espied;

And the weather was close below.
And the Bishop at that grew cold with fear,
For he heard the words distinct and clear.

He had his books to settle,
Ind when he rung at the palace-bell, And up to earth he hied,
Ie almost expected to hear his knell;

To do it there in the evening-air,
Ind when the porter turn'd the key,

All by the river-side. le almost expected Death to see.

His imps came flying around him, But soon the Bishop recover'd his glee, of his affairs to tell; for the Emperor welcom'd him royally; From the north, and the south, and the east, And now the tables were spread, and there

and the west; Were choicest wines and dainty fare.

They brought him the news that he liked best,

Of the things they had done, and the souls Ind now the Bishop bad blest the meat,

they had won, When a voice was heard as he sat in his And how they sped well in the service of Hell.

With the Emperor now you are dining in glee, lyri
But know, Bishop Bruno! you sup with me!

|"There came a devil posting in
Returned from his employ,

Seven years had he been gone from Hell,
Che Bishop then grew pale with allright,
Ind suddenly lost his appetite;

And now he came grinning for joy. Ul the wine and dainty cheer ould not comfort his heart so sick with fear. Seven years, quoth he, of trouble and toil

Have I labour'd the Pope to win; But by little and little recovered he, And I to-day bave canght him, for the wine went flowing merrily, He hath done the deadly sin. ind he forgot his former dread,

And then he took the Devil's book, ind his chceks again grew rosy-red. And wrote the deed therein.

Oh, then King Beelzebub for joy, | Bat would you know the ya mv He drev his month so wide,

| You can easily fard the way. You might have seen his iron teeth, | It is a broad and a rebovu rad Foar and forty from side to side.

That is travelrd by night ami by day.

He wagg'd his ears, he twisted his tail,

| And you must look in the Dento bank: 1 He knew not for joy what to do,

You will find one debt that was never page In his hoofs and his horns, in his heels and

If you search the leaves throaght;

his corns, It tickled him all through.

And that is the mystery of this waterfall

And the way to find it out
The Bishop who beheld all this.
Straight how to act bethought him;
He leapt upon the Devil's back,
And by the horns he caught him.

QUEEN ORRACA, AND THE FIVE And he waid a Pater-noster

MARTYRS OF MOROCCO A, fast as he could say, And made a cross on the Devil's head, The friars five have girt their laims. And bade him to Rome away.

And taken staff in hand;

And never shall those friars agaia
Without bridle, or saddle, or whip, or spur,

Hear mass in Christian land.
Away they go like the wind,
The beads of the Bishop are hanging before, They went to Queen Orraca,
And the tail of the Devil behind.

To thank her and bless her then;

And Queen Orraca in tears
They met a Witch and she haild them

Knelt to the holy men.
As soon as she came within call;
Ave Maria! the Bishop exclaimed,

Three things, Queen Orraca,
It frightened her broom-stick and she got

We prophecy to you: a fall.

Hear us, in the name of God!
He ran against a shooting star,

For time will prove them true.
So fast for fear did he sail,
And he singed the beard of the Bishop In Morocco we must martyr'd be:
Against a Comet's tail.

Christ hath vonchsafed it thus:

We shall shed our blood for him
And he pass'd between the horns of the Moon, Who shed his blood for us.
With Antidius on his back;
And there was an eclipse that night,

To Coimbra shall our bodies be brought: Which was not in the Almanack.

For such is the will divine;

That Christians may behold and feel The Bishop just as they set out,

Blessings at our shrine.
To tell his beads begun;
And he was by the bed of the Pope
Before the string was done.

And when unto that place of rest

Our bodies shall draw nigh, The Pope fell down upon his knees,

Who sees us first, the King or you, In terror and confusion,

That one that night must die.
And he confess'd the deadly sin
And he had absolution.

Fare thee well, Queen Orraca :

For thy soul a mass we will say, And all the Popes in bliss that be,

Every day while we do live,
Sung oh be joyful! then;

And on thy dying day.
And all the Popes in bale that be,
They howl'd for envy then;

The friars they blest her, one by one,
For they before kept jubilee,
Expecting his good company,

Where she knelt on her knee ; Down in the Devil's den.

And they departed to the land

Of the Moors beyond the sea.
But what was this the Pope had done
To bind his soul to hell ?

What news, oh King Alfonso !
Ah! that is the mystery of this wonderful! What news of the friars five ?


Have they preach'd to the Miramamelis. And I wish that I could tell.'

And are they still alive?

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That on a dunghill they should rot, As the King and his knights went down the The bloody Moor decreed;

hill That their dishonour'd bodies should

A wild boar crost the way; The dogs and vultures feed :

Follow him! follow him! cried the King:

We have time by the Queen's delay! But the thunder of God rollid over them,

And the lightning of God flash'd round | A-hunting of the boar astray Nor thing impure, nor man impure,

Is King Alfonso gone: Could approach the holy ground.

Slowly, slowly, but straight the while,

Queen Orraca is coming on.
A thousand miracles appallid
The cruel Pagan's mind.

And winding now the train appears
Our brother Pedro brings them here,

Between the olive-trees : In Coimbra to be shrined.

Queen Orraca alighted then,

And fell upon her knees.
Every altar in Coimbra
Is drest for the festival day;

The friars of Alanquer came first,
All the people in Coimbra,

And next the relics past ;

Queen Orraca look'd to see Are dight in their richest array.

The King and his knights come last. Every bell in Coimbra

She heard the horses tramp behind : Doth merrily, merrily ring;

At that she turn'd her face : The clergy and the knights await,

King Alfonso and his knights came up To go forth with the Queen and the King.

All panting from the chase. Come forth, come forth, Queen Orraca!

Have pity upon my poor soul, We make the procession stay.

Holy Martyrs five! cried she: I beseech thee, King Alfonso,

Holy Mary, Mother of God, Go you alone to-day.

Virgin, pray for me! I have pain in my head this morning

That day in Coimbra, I am ill at heart also :

Many a heart was gay; Go without me, King Alfonso,

But the heaviest heart in Coimbra, For I am too sick to go.

Was that poor Queen's that day.

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All in robes of russet gray,

quos habuit superstites, monachum videli

monacham, per epistolam invitavit; adsen Poorly were they dight;

autem voce singultiente alloquitur. Ego, im Each one girdled with a cord,

o pueri, meo miserabili fato daemoniacis som Like a friar minorite.

artibus inservivi; ego omnium vitiorum ce ego illecebrarum omnium fui magistra Es

tamen mihi inter hæc mala spes vextra te But from those robes of russet grey,

nis, quæ meam solidaret animam desperata2 There flow'd a heavenly light;

expectabam propugnatores contra damage 2 For each one was the blessed soul

tores contra saevissimos hostes. Nunc i Of a friar minorite.

quoniam ad finem vitæ perveni, rogo ve materna ubera, ut mea tentatis alleviate

menta. Insuite me defunctam in corio cerum Brighter than their brethren,

ac deinde in sarcophago lapideo supponite, Among the beautiful band,

columque ferro et plumbo constringite, ac dans Five there were, who each did bear

lapidem tribug catenis ferreis er fortissimi

cumdantes, clericos quinquaginta psalmorusa A palm-branch in his hand.

tores, et tot per tres dies presbyteros miem

celebratores applicate, qui feroces lenigen He who led the brethren,

versariorum incursus. Ita si tribus noctibus

cura jacnero, quarta die me infodite hume. F A living man was he;

tumque est ut præceperat illis. Sed, proh delar And yet he shone the brightest

nil preces, nil lacrymæ, nil demun valsert Of all the company.

tenae. Primis enim duabus noctibus, cum che psallentium corpori assistebant, adrenica

Daemones ostium ecclesia confregerent inga Before the steps of the altar,

obice clausum, extremasque catenas mego Each one bow'd his head;

levi dirumpunt; media autem quæ fortior er And then with solemn voice they sung illibata manebat. Tertia autem nocte, circa que The service of the dead.

licinium, strepitu hostium adventantiem, monasterium visum est a fundamento e

Unus ergo dæmonui, et vultu cæteris terra And who are ye, ye blessed saints ?

et statura eminentior, januas Ecclesia ia per The father confessor said ;

violento concussas in fragmenta dejecit. Dives

runt clerici cum laicis, metu steterunt om And for what happy soul sing ye

capilli, et psalmorum concentus defecit. Dans The service of the dead?

ergo gestu ut videbatur arroganti ad sepulcres

accedens, et nomen mulieris modicum ingemine These are the souls of our brethren in bliss, surgere imperavit. Qua respondente, quor

quiret pro vinculis, jam malo tuo, inquit, sal The Martyrs five are we;

ris; et protinus catenam quæ cæterorun fer And this is our father Francisco,

ciam daemonom deluserat, velut stoppeum Among us bodily.

culum rumpebat. Operculum etiam sepele pede depellens, mulierem palam omnibus as

clesia extraxit, ubi præ foribus niger ega We are come hither to perform

perbe hinniens videbatur, uncis ferreis et chau Our promise to the Queen;

undique confixus, super quem misera mulier Go thon to King Alfonso,

jecta, ab oculis assistentiam evanuit. Audirkan

tur tamen clamores per quatuor fere miliar And say what thou hast seen.

horribiles, auxilium postulantes. Ista itaque

retuli incredibila non erunt, si legatur se There was loud knocking at the door, Gregorii dialogus, in quo refert, hominem iar As the heavenly vision fled;

clesia sepultam a dæmonibus foras ejectum. And the porter called to the confessor,

apud Francos Carolus Martellus, insignis vir in

tudinis, qui Saracenos Galliam ingresses I To tell him the Queen was dead.

paniam redire compulit, exactis vitæ sne dich in Ecclesia beati Dionysii legitur fuisse se tus. Sed quia patrimonia, cum decimis a fere ecclesiarum Galliæ, pro stipendio co

tonum suoram inutilaverat, miserabiliter A BALLAD,

lignis spiritibus de sepulchro corporaliter *** Bus, osque in hodiernum diem nusquam ennamm


The Raven croaked as she sate at her best

And the Old Woman knew what he seal A. D. 852. Circa dies istos, mulier quaedam malefica, in villa quae Berkeleia dicitur degens, gu

And she grew pale at the Raven's tale, lae amatrix ac petulantiae, flagitiis modum usque And sickend and went to her bed. in senium et auguriis non ponens, usque ad mortem impudica permansit. Hæc die quadam cum Now fetele me my children and

Now fetch me my children, and fetch the sederet at prandium, cornicula quam pro deliciis pascebat nescio quid garrire cæpit, quo audito,

with speed, mulieris cultellus de manu excidit, simul et fa The Old Woman of Berkeley said, cies pallescere coepit, et emisso rogitu, hodie, The monk my son, and my daughter the DES inquit, ascipiam grande incommodum, hodieque

| Bid them hasten or I shall be dead. ad sulcum ultimum meum pervenit aratrum. Quo dicto, noncius doloris intravit; inuliere vero percunctata ad quid veniret, affero, inquit, tibi The monk her son, and her daughter than filii tui obitum et totius familiæ ejus ex subità Their way to Berkeley went, ruina interitum. Hoc quoque dolore mulier permota, lecto protinus decubuit graviter infirmata :/ And they have brought with pious thoset senticnsque 'morbum subrepere ad vitalia, liberos | The holy sacrament.

The Old Woman shrlek'd as they enter'd her | The Old Woman of Berkeley laid her down, door,

And her eyes grew deadly dim, 'Twas fearful her shrieks to hear, Short came her breath and the struggle of Now take the sacrament away,

death For mercy, my children dear!

Did loosen every limb.

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!

They blert the old woman's winding sheet

With rites and prayers due,
With holy water they sprinkled her shroud,

And they sprinkled her coffin too.

Away they sent the sacrament,

And they chain'd her in her coffin of stone, The fit it left her weak,

And with iron barr'd it down, She look'd at her children with ghastly eyes, And in the church with three strong chains And faintly struggled to speak.

They chain'd it to the ground.

All kinds of sin I have rioted in,

And the judgment now must be, But I secured my children's souls,

Oh, pray, my children, for me!

| 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.

I have suck'd the breath of sleeping babes,

The fiends have been my slaven,
I have 'nointed myself with infants' fat,

And feasted on rifled graves.

And fifty sacred choristers

Beside the bier attend her
Who day and night by the taper's light

Should with holy hymns defend her.

And the Devil will fetch me now in fire,

To see the priests and choristers
My witchcrafts to atone;

It was a goodly sight,
And I who have rifled the dead man's grave
Shall never have rest in my own.

Each holding, as it were a staff,

A taper burning bright.
Bless, I entreat, my winding sheet,
My children, I beg of you!

And the church-belle all both great and small,
And with holy water sprinkle my shroud, | Did toll so loud and long,
And sprinkle my coffin too!

And they have barr'd the church-door hard,

After the even-song.
- And let me be chain'd in my coffin of stone,
And fasten it strong, I implore,

And the first night the tapers' light
With iron bars, and with three chains Burnt steadily and clear,
Chain it to the church-floor.

| But they withont a hideous rout

of angry fiends could hear;
And bless the chains and sprinkle them,
And let fifty priests stand round,

A hideous roar at the church-door
Who night and day the inass may say, Like a long thunder-peal,
Where I lie on the ground.

And the priests they pray'd, and the choristers And see that fifty choristers

Louder in fearful zeal.
Beside the bier attend me,
And day and night by the taper's light

Loud toll’d the bell, the priests pray'd well, With holy hymns defend me.

The tapers they burnt bright,

| The monk her son, and her daughter the nun, Let the church-bells all both great and small, Be tollid by night and day,

They told their beads all night.
To drive from thence the fiends who come
To bear my body away.

The cock he crew, the fiends they flew

From the voice of the morning away; And ever have the church-door barr'd

Then undisturb'd the choristers sing,

And the fifty priests they pray;
After the even-song;
And I beseech you, children dear,

As they had sung and pray'd all night, Let the bars and bolts be strong.

They pray'd and sing all day. And let this be three days and nights The second night the tapers' light My wretched corpse to save,

Burnt dismally and blue, Keep me so long from the fiendish throng, And every one saw his neighbour's face

And then I may rest in my grave. | Like a dead man's face to view.


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