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ti8iiop Bruno awoke in the dead midnight, i nd ho heard his heart beat loud with affright: le dreamt he had rung the palace-bell, ind the sound it gave vu his passing knell.
tishop Bruno smiled at his fears so vain, Ic turned to sleep and he dreamt again; te, rung at the palace-gato once more, I nd Death was the porter that open'd the door.
f e started up at the fearful dream,
lnd he heard at his window the screech-owl
scream! lishop Bruno slept no more that night,— )h! glad was he when he saw the day-light!
jTow he goes forth in proud array,
leforc and behind his soldiers ride,
io he went on stately and proud,
Vhen he heard a voice that cried aloud t
Io! ho! Bishop Bruno! you travel with
glee,— lut I would have you know,you travel to me!
Ichind and before and on either side, Ic look'd, but nobody he espied; lnd the Bishop at that grew cold with fear, ■"or he heard the words distinct and clear.
lnd when he rung at the pnlace-bcll, Ic almost expected to hear his knell; lnd when the porter turn'd the key, le almost expected Death to see.
lut soon the Bishop recovcr'd his glee, ■"or the Emperor wclcom'd him royally; Lnd now the tables were spread, and there iVcre choicest wines and dainty fare.
lnd now the Bishop had blest the meat, iVhen a voice was heard as he sat in his
scat,— tV ith the Emperor now you are dining in glee, lut know, Bishop Bruno! you sup with me!
When he sat down to the royal fare Bishop Bruno was the saddest man there; But when the masquers cnter'd the hall. He was the merriest man of all.
Then from amid the masquers' crowd There went a voice hollow and loud,— You have, past the day. Bishop Bruno, in glee! But you must pass the night with me!
His check grows pale, and his eye-balls glare, And stilT round his tonsure bristles his hair; With that there came one from the masquers'
The bony hand suspended his breath,
Che Bishop then grew pnlc with all right.
lnd snddenly lost his appetite;
III the wine and dainty cheer
yould not comfort his heart so sick with fear.
lut by little and little recovered he,
A TRUE BALLAD OF ST. ANTIDIUS, THE POPE, ANU THE DEVIL.
It is Antidius the Bishop
Who now at even-tide
Taking the air and saying a prayer,
Walks by the river-side.
The Devil had business that evening,
He had his books to settle,
His imps enmc flying around him.
Of his a Hairs to tell;
From the north, ami the south, and the east,
and the west; They brought him the news that he liked best, Of the things they had done, and the Bciuis
they had won, And how they sped well in the service of Hell.
There came a devil posting in
Seven years, quoth he, of trouble and toil
Have I labour'd the Pope to win;
And I to-day have caught him,
He hath done the deadly sin.
And then he took the Devil's book,
And wrote the deed therein.
Oh, then King Beelzebub for joy,
He wagg'd his ears, he twisted his tail,
He knew not for joy what to do,
In bis hoofs and his horns, in his heels and
his corns, It tickled him all through.
The Bishop who beheld all this,
And he said a Pater-nostcr
As fast as he could say,
And made a cross on the Devil's head,
And bade him to Rome away.
Without bridle, or saddle, or whip, or spur,
They met a Witch and she hail'd them
As soon as she came within call;
Ave Maria! the Bishop exclaimed,
It frightened her broom-stick and she got
He ran against a shooting star,
So fast for fear did he sail.
And he singed the beard of the Bishop
Against a Comet's tail.
And he pass'd between the horns of the Moon,
The Bishop just as they set out,
The l'opc fell down upon his knees,
And all the Popes in bliss that be,
But what was this the Pope had done
To bind his soul to hell?
Ah! that is the mystery of this wonderful
history, And I wish that I could tell.
But would you know to hell you mint p.
And you must look in the Devil's boot;
QUEEN ORRACA, AND THE FIVE MARTYRS OF MOROCCO.
The friars five have girt their loin*,
And taken staff in hand;
Hear mass in Christian land.
They went to Queen Orraca,
To thank her and bless her then;
And Queen Orraca in tears
Three things, Queen Orraca,
We prophecy to you:
For time will prove them true.
In Morocco we must martyr'd be:
We shall shed our blood for him
To Coimbra shall our bodies be brovgii;
For such is the will divine;
Blessings at our shrine.
And when unto that place of rest
Who sees us first, the King or yon,
Fare theo well, Queen Orraca;
For thy soul a mass we will say. Every day while we do live,
And on thy dying day.
The friars they blest her, one by oor.
And they departed to the land
What news, oh Kuig Alfonso!
What news of die friars five? Have they preach'd to the Miramamiilii | And arc Uiey still alive?
^Iicy have fought the fight, oh Queen!
II robe* of white they hold the palm
ill naked in the sun and air
Their mangled bodies lie;
By the bloody Moors would die.
Vhnt news, oh King Alfonso!
Of the Martyrs five what news? )oth the bloody Miramamolin
Their burial still refuse?
"Iiiit on a dunghill they should rot,
The bloody Moor decreed; 'lint their dishonour'd bodies should
The dogs and vultures feed:
?nt the thunder of God roll'd over them, And the lightning of God flash'd round;
snr thing impure, nor man impure, Could approach the holy ground.
k thousand miracles appall'd
The cruel Pagan's mind. )ur brother Pedro brings them here,
In Coimbra to be shrined.
2 very altar in Coimbra
III the people in Coimbra,
Arc dight in their richest array.
2 very bell in Coimbra
Doth merrily, merrily ring;
To go forth with the Queen and the King.
lome forth, come forth, Queen Orraca! We make the procession stay, beseech thee, King Alfonso, Go you alone to-day.
have p.ain in my head this morning I am ill at heart also: «•> without me, King Alfonso, For I am too sick to go.
The relics of the Martyrs five
All maladies can cure;
V cm shew'd them once, be sure:
tome forth then, Queen Orraca!
You make the procession stay: t were a scandal and a sin
To abide at home to-day.
Ipon her palfrey she is set,
And forward then they go;
And up the long hill wind slow.
Prick forward, King Alfonso,
And do not wait for me;
It were discourtesy.
A little while I needs must wait,
I will proceed the best I can,
The King and his knights prick'd up the hill
Faster than before; The King and his knights have tnpt the hill,
And now they are seen no more.
As the King and his knights went down the hill
A wild boar crost the way; Follow him! follow him! cried the King:
VVe have time by the Queen's delay!
A-hunting of the boar astray
Is King Alfonso gone:
Queen Orraca is coming on.
And winding now the train appears
Between the olive-trees: Queen Orraca alighted then,
And fell upon her knees.
The friars of Alanqucr came first,
And next the relics past;— Queen Orraca look'd to sec
The King and his knights come last.
She heard the horses tramp behind:
At that she turn'd her face:
All panting from the chase.
Have pity upon my poor soul.
Holy Mary, Mother of God,
That day in Coimbra,
Many a heart was gay;
Was that poor Queen's that day.
The festival is over,
The sun hath sunk in the west; All the people'in Coimbra
Have betaken themselves to rest.
Queen Orraca's father confessor
At midnight is awake; Kneeling at the Martyrs' shrine,
And praying for her sake.
Just at the midnight-hour, when all
Was still as still could lie. Into the church of Santa Cruz,
Came a saintly company:
All in robes of russet gray,
Poorly were they dight; Each one girdled with a cord,
Like a friar minorite.
But from those robes of russet grey,
For each one was the blessed soul
Brighter than their brethren,
Among the beautiful band,
A palm-branch in his hand.
He who led the brethren,
A living man was he;
Of all the company.
Before the steps of the altar,
Each one how'd his head;
The service of the dead.
And who are ye, ye blessed saints?
The father confessor said;
The service of the dead?
These are the souls of our brethren in bliss,
The Martyrs five are we;
Among us bodily.
We are come hither to perform
Our promise to the Queen; Go thou to King Alfonso,
And say what thou hast seen.
There was loud knocking at the door,
As the heavenly visinn fled;
To tell him the Queen was dead.
quos habuit aopcratitea, monachnn vMebe' Tiionacham, per epi9tolam invitavit; ad*mn autem voce singultiente alloquitnr. Ega, iaa. o pueri, meo miaerabili fato daernoniacis w artibus inscrvivi; ego omniam vitiornai m ego illecebrarum omnium fui magistn. £& tamen mihi inter hare mala spes vestry r*£a> niti, quae meam solidarct aninaam desperauav * eipectabam propugnatores contra. da*aeaa\aa tores contra saewasimos hoste*. Xoec ipr quoniam ad finem vita; perveni, rogo *•» matcrna libera, ut mea tentatis alleviatta*, menta. lnsuite me defunctam in corio eenm ac deinde in sarcophago lapiden euppoaite. >~ ciilumqueferro et plumbo constringitc, ac.-i lapidem tribus catenis ferrei* et Forti*fiBe ~ cumdantea, clericoa qoinqnaginta psalaarsaa* tores, et tot per trea dies presbyters* asiwra celebratorea applicate, qui ferocea lraur-t veraariorum incurane. Ita si tribus nocti»t> * ciira jacnero, quarta die me infodite ansu. F» tumque eat ut prxceperat Hits. Sed, prab **> nil precea, nil lacryma*, nil demnm ralserr a tenae. Primis enim duabus noctibus, cam w psallentium corpori assistebant, adi Daemones ostium ecclesia* confregcrent i obice clausnm, extrcmasque catenas i levi dirumpunt; media autem qua* forrfer rrs illibata manebat. Tenia autem oocte, circa r licinium, strepitu boatium adventantiam. aaa monasterium visum est a fundamento me** Units ergo da-mnnuin, et vultu ceteris terr-tu* et atatura eminentior, januaa Ecclesie iaarviolento concusaas In fracmenta dejecit- !>:-■'• runt clerici cum laicia, meta stetemat ea"w* capilli, et paalmorum concentus defeeit. Bra* ergo gestu tit videbatttr arroganti ad sepgk*.-u accedeua,et nomen mulieris modicum iageaiarr surgere imperavit. Qua respondent*, qa*»4 tquiret pro vinculia, jam main tun. iaqait, • ria; et protinua catenam qua* carteroraa aw ciam daemonom delttserat, velot emppeaai ra culum rumpebat. Operculum etiam scpacr pede depellens, mulicrem palam omaibat ai * clesia extraiit, ubi pns foribna nigcr eqm « perbe binniena videbatur, uncis ferreis etc's»> ulidique confixus, super quern misera. malices** jecta, ab ocnlia assiatentinm cvannit. Aedipaa tur tamen clamnres per quatnor fere aulir3 horribiles, auxilium poatulantcs. lata itaqer ci retuli incredibila non erunt, si legator W*v Gregorii dialogus, in quo refert, boraiacat Li clesia sepultom a dxmonibus foraa ejecraau r apud Francos Carolns Martellus, insigait vir-r tudinis, qui Saracenos C alii am ingreMw r!paniam redirc compolit, eiactis vita? »aa> air** in Ecclcsia beati Dionysii lagitur fnisse vr* tna. Sed quia patrimonia, cum decimia aanaa fere ecclesiarum Gallia*, pro atipeadio caaaaSi tonum suorum mutilaverat, miaerabiliter a ai lignia apiritibus de scpulchro corporalitrr r» sua, naque in hodiernum diem ansqnam raajssri: Mathkcb 1vk>t<
The Raven croaked as she sate at her m*
And she grew pale at the Ravcn'st tale.
Now fetch me my children, and fetch tV* with speed.
The Old Woman of Berkeley mid. The monk my son, and my daughter thraa
Bid litem hasten or I shall be dead
The monk her son, and her daughter thra* Their way to Berkeley went
And they have brought with pious thosrt The holy sacrament.
c Old Woman shrlek'd as they entcr'd her
r lip it trembled with agony,
ay they sent the sacrament,
The fit it left her weak,
s lnok'd at her children with ghastly eyes,
iiitl faintly struggled to speak.
kinds of sin I have rioted in, ind the judgment now must be, t I secured my children's souls, Hi, pray, my children, for me!
ave snek'd the breath of sleeping babes, 'he fiends have been my slaves, ave 'nointed myself with infants' fat, nd feasted on rifled graves.
I the Devil will fetch me now in fire,
»s, I entreat, my winding sheet,
I let me be chain'd in my coffin of stone,
[ bless the chains and sprinkle them,
I see that fifty choristers
the church-hells all both great and small,
ever have the church-door barr'd ftcr the even-song;
I beseech you, children dear, el the bars and bolts be strong.
let this be three days and nights ly wretched corpse to save, p me so long from the fiendish throng, nd then I may rest in my grave.
The Old Woman of Berkeley laid her down, And her eyes grew deadly dim,
Short came her breath and the struggle of death Did loosen every limb.
They blest the old woman's winding sheet
With rites and prayers due, With holy water they sprinkled her shroud,
And they sprinkled her coffin too.
And they chain'd her in her coffin of stone, And with iron barr'd it down,
And in the church with three strong chains They chain'd it to the ground.
And they blest the chains and sprinkled them,
And fifty priests stood round,
Where she lay on the ground.
And fifty sacred chorjsters
Beside the bier attend her
Should with holy hymns defend her.
To see the priests and choristers
It was a goodly sight,
A taper burning bright.
And the church-bells all both great and small,
Did toll so loud and long, And they have barr'd the church-door hard,
After the even-song.
And the first night the tapers' light
Burnt steadily and clear,
Of angry fiends could hear;
A hideous roar at the church-door
Like a long thunder-peal, And the priests they pray'd,and the choristers sung
Louder in fenrful seal.
Loud toll'd the bell, the priests pray'd well, The tapers they burnt bright.
The monk her son, and her daughter the nun, They told their beads all night.
The cock he crew, the fiends they flew
Then undisturb'd the choristers sing,
As they had sung nnd pray'd all night,
The second night the tapers' light
Burnt dismally and blue.
Like a dead man's face to view.