Hur's a gentleman, God wot, and hur's lineage was of

Wales,

And where was the widow might say him nay?

Sir David ap Morgan ap Griffith ap Hugh

Ap Tudor Ap Rhice, quoth his roundelay;
She said that one widow for so many was too few,
And she bade the Welshman wend his way.

But then next came a yeoman, a yeoman of Kent,
Jollily singing his roundelay;

He spoke to the widow of living and rent,

And where was the widow could say him nay?

BOTH

So the knight and the squire were both left in the mire,
There for to sing their roundelay;

For a yeoman of Kent, with his yearly rent,
There ne'er was a widow could say him nay.

VIII

FUNERAL HYMN

From Chapter XLII

DUST unto dust,

To this all must;

The tenant hath resigned

The faded form

To waste and worm

Corruption claims her kind.

Through paths unknown

Thy soul hath flown

To seek the realms of woe,

Where fiery pain

Shall purge the stain

Of actions done below.

In that sad place,

By Mary's grace,

Brief may thy dwelling be!

Till prayers and alms,

And holy psalms,

Shall set the captive free.

VERSES FROM THE MONASTERY

Published in 1820

I

ANSWER TO INTRODUCTORY EPISTLE

TAKE thou no scorn,

Of fiction born,

Fair fiction's muse to woo;

Old Homer's theme

Was but a dream,

Himself a fiction too.

II

BORDER SONG

From Chapter XXV

I

MARCH, march, Ettrick and Teviotdale,

Why the deil dinna ye march forward in order?

March, march, Eskdale and Liddesdale,

All the Blue Bonnets are bound for the Border.

Many a banner spread,

Flutters above your head,

Many a crest that is famous in story.

Mount and make ready then,

Sons of the mountain glen,

Fight for the Queen and the old Scottish glory.

2

Come from the hills where your hirsels are grazing, Come from the glen of the buck and the roe; Come to the crag where the beacon is blazing, Come with the buckler, the lance, and the bow. Trumpets are sounding,

War-steeds are bounding,

Stand to your arms then, and march in good order: England shall many a day

Tell of the bloody fray,

When the Blue Bonnets came over the Border.

III

SONGS OF THE WHITE LADY OF AVENEL

From Chapter v

FORDING THE RIVER

I

MERRILY Swim we, the moon shines bright,

Both current and ripple are dancing in light.
We have roused the night raven, I heard him croak,
As we plashed along beneath the oak

That flings its broad branches so far and so wide,

Their shadows are dancing in midst of the tide. 'Who wakens my nestlings!' the raven he said, 'My beak shall ere morn in his blood be red!

For a blue swollen corpse is a dainty meal,

And I'll have my share with the pike and the eel.'

2

Merrily swim we, the moon shines bright,
There's a golden gleam on the distant height:
There's a silver shower on the alders dank,

And the drooping willows that wave on the bank.
I see the Abbey, both turret and tower,

It is all astir for the vesper hour;

The Monks for the chapel are leaving each cell,
But where's Father Philip, should toll the bell?

3

Merrily swim we, the moon shines bright,
Downward we drift through shadow and light.
Under yon rock the eddies sleep,

Calm and silent, dark and deep.

The Kelpy has risen from the fathomless pool,
He has lighted his candle of death and of dool:
Look, Father, look, and you'll laugh to see
How he gapes and glares with his eyes on thee!

4

Good luck to your fishing, whom watch ye to-night?

A man of mean or a man of might?

Is it layman or priest that must float in your cove, Or lover who crosses to visit his love?