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The knot of fate at length is tied,
The Churl is Lord, the Maid is Bride!
Vainly did my magic sleight
Send the lover from her sight;
Wither bush, and perish well,
Fall’n is lofty Avenel!

Chap. xxxvii.

(2.)-CHAP. II.
In yon lone vale his early youth was bred.
Not solitary then-the bugle-horn
Of fell Alecto often waked its windings,
From where the brook joins the majestic river,
To the wild northern bog, the curlieu's haunt,
Where oozes forth its first and feeble streamlet.

Old Play.

(3.)-CHAP. V.

A priest, ye cry, a priest !-lame shepherds they, (2.) BORDER BALLAD.

How shall they gather in the straggling flock ?

Dumb dogs which bark not-how shall they compel 1.

The loitering vagrants to the Master's fold? MARCH, march, Ettrick and Teviotdale,

Fitter to bask before the blazing fire, Why the deil dinna ye march forward in order ? And snuff the mess neat-handed Phillis dresses, March, march, Eskdale and Liddesdale,

Than on the snow-wreath battle with the wolf. All the Blue Bonnets are bound for the Border.

Many a banner spread,
Flutters above your head,

(4.)–CHAP. VI. Many a crest that is famous in story.

Now let us sit in conclave. That these weeds
Mount and make ready then,

Be rooted from the vineyard of the Church,
Sons of the mountain glen,

That these foul tares be sever'd from the wheat, Fight for the Queen and our old Scottish glory. We are, I trust, agreed. — Yet how to do this,

Nor hurt the wholesome crop and tender vine2. Come from the hills where your hirsels are grazing, Craves good advisement.

plants, Come from the glen of the buck and the roe;

The Reformation. Come to the crag where the beacon is blazing, Come with the buckler, the lance, and the bow.

(5.)-CHAP. VIII. • Trumpets are sounding,

Nay, dally not with time, the wise man's treasure, War-steeds are bounding,

Though fools are lavish on't—the fatal Fisher Stand to your arms, and march in good order, Hooks souls, while we waste moments. England shall many a day

Old Play. Tell of the bloody fray, When the Blue Bonnets came over the Border.

(6.)–CHAP. XI,
Chap. xxv. You call this education, do you

Why, 'tis the forced march of a herd of bullocks
Before a shouting drover. The glad van
Move on at ease, and pause a while to snatch

A passing morsel from the dewy green-sward, (8.)MOTTOES.

While all the blows, the oaths, the indignation,

Fall on the croupe of the ill-fated laggard (1.)-CHAP. I.

That cripples in the rear. O Ar! the Monks, the Monks, they did the mis

Old Play chief! Theirs all the grossness, all the superstition

(7.)-CHAP. XII. Of a most gross and superstitious age.

There's something in that ancient superstition, May He be praised that sent the healthful tem- Which, erring as it is, our fancy loves. pest,

The spring that, with its thousand crystal bubbles, And scatter'd all these pestilential vapors;

Bursts from the bosom of some desert rock But that we owed them all to yonder Harlot In secret solitude, may well be deem'd Throned on the seven hills with her cup of gold, The haunt of something purer, more refined, I will as soon believe, with kind Sir Roger, And mightier than ourselves.

Old Play. That old Moll White took wing with cat and broomstick,

(8.)—CHAP. XIV. And raised the last night's thunder.

Nay, let me have the friends who eat my victuals, Old Play

As various as my dishes. The feast's naught,

Where one huge plate predominates. John Plain

(14.)CHAP. XXIII. text,

'Tis when the wound is stiffening with the cold, He shall be mighty beef, our English staple; The warrior first feels pain—'tis when the heat The worthy Alderman, a butter'd dumpling; And fiery fever of his soul is past, Yon pair of whisker'd Cornets, ruffs and rees; The sinner feels remorse. Their friend the Dandy, a green goose in sippets.

Old Play. And so the board is spread at once and fillid On the same principle-Variety.

(16.)—CHAP. XXIV. New Play.

I'll walk on tiptoe; arm my eye with caution,

My heart with courage, and my hand with weapon, (9.)-CHAP. XV.

Like him who ventures on a lion's den. He strikes no coin, 'tis true, but coins new phrases,

Old Play. And vends them forth as knaves vend gilded counters,

(16.)-CHAP. XXVII. Which wise men scorn, and fools accept in pay- Now, by Our Lady, Sheriff, 'tis hard reckoning, ment.

That I, with every odds of birth and barony, Old Play.

Should be detain'd here for the casual death

Of a wild forester, whose utmost having (10.)-CHAP. XVI.

Is but the brazen buckle of the belt A courtier extraordinary, who by diet

In which he sticks his hedge-knife. Of meats and drinks, his temperate exercise,

Old Play. Choice music, frequent bath, his horary shifts Of shirts and waistcoats, means to immortalize

(17.)CHAP. XXX. Mortality itself, and makes the essence

You call it an ill angel—it may be so; Of his whole happiness the trim of court.

But sure I am, among the ranks which fell, Magnetic Lady. 'Tis the first fiend e'er counsellid man to rise,

And win the bliss the sprite himself had forfeited (11.)/CHAP. XIX.

Old Play Now choose thee, gallant, betwixt wealth and honor;

(18.)CHAP. XXXI. There lies the pelf, in sum to bear thee through At school I knew him—a sharp-witted youth, The dance of youth, and the turmoil of manhood, Grave, thoughtful, and reserved amongst his mates, Yet leave enough for age's chimney-corner ; Turning the hours of sport and food to labor, But an thou grasp to it, farewell Ambition ! Starving his body to inform his mind. Farewell each hope of bettering thy condition, And raising thy low rank above the churls That till the earth for bread!

(19.)-CHAP. XXXIII. Old Play.

Now on my faith this gear is all entangled,

Like to the yarn-clew of the drowsy knitter, (12.)CHAP. XXI.

Dragg'd by the frolic kitten through the cabin, Indifferent, but indifferent-pshaw! he doth it While the good dame sits nodding o'er the fire

Masters, attend ; 'twill crave some skill to clear it. Like one who is his craft's master-ne'ertheless

Old Play. I have seen a clown confer a bloody coxcomb On one who was a master of defence.

(20.)-CHAP. XXXIV. Old Play.

It is not texts will do it—Church artillery

Are silenced soon by real ordnance, (13.)-CHAP. XXII.

And canons are but vain opposed to cannon. Yes, life hath left him-every busy thought, Go, coin your crosier, melt your church plate Each fiery passion, every strong affection,

down, The sense of outward ill and inward sorrow, Bid the starved soldier banquet in your halls, Are fled at once from the pale trunk before me; And quaff your long-saved hogsheads—Turn them And I have given that which spoke and moved,

out Thought, acted, suffer'd, as a living man,

Thus primed with your good cheer, to guard you To be a ghastly form of bloody clay,

wall, Soon the foul food for reptiles.

And they will venture for 't.-
Old Play.

Old Play

Old Play


from the Abbot.

The bell has ceased to toll.
The long-ribb'd aisles are burst and shrunk,

The holy shrines to ruin sunk,

Departed is the pious monk,
God's blessing on his soul!


(4)–CHAP. XI. “At length the pardoner pulled from his scrip a small phial of clear water, of which he vaunted Life hath its May, and all is mirthful then : the quality in the following verses:"

The woods are vocal, and the flowers all odor;

Its very blast has mirth in 't,—and the maidens, Listneth, gode people, everiche one,

The while they don their cloaks to skreen their For in the londe of Babylone,

kirtles, Far eastward I wot it lyeth,

Laugh at the rain that wets them. And is the first londe the sonne espieth,

Old Play. Ther, as he cometh fro out the sé; In this ilk londe, as thinketh me,

(5.)CHAP. XII. Right as holie legendes tell,

Nay, hear me, brother-I am elder, wiser, Snottreth from a roke a well,

And holier than thou; and age, and wisdom, And falleth into ane bath of ston,

And holiness, have peremptory claims, Wher chast Susanne in times long gon,

And will be listen'd to.

Old Play Was wont to wash her bodie and limMickle vertue hath that streme,

(6.)-CHAP. XIV. As ye shall se er that ye pas,

Not the wild billow, when it breaks its barrierEnsample by this little glas

Not the wild wind, escaping from its cavernThrough nightés cold and dayés hote,

Not the wild fiend, that mingles both together, Hiderward I have it brought;

And pours their rage upon the ripening harvest, Hath a wife made slip or slide,

Can match the wild freaks of this mirthful meetOr a maiden stepp'd aside;

ingPutteth this water under her nese,

Comic, yet fearful-droll, and yet destructive. Wold she nold she, she shall snese.

The Conspiracy
Chap. xxvii.

(7.)-CHAP. XVI.
Youth! thou wear'st to manhood now,

Darker lip and darker brow,

Statelier step, more pensive mien,

In thy face and gait are seen: (1.)-CHAP. V.

Thou must now brook midnight watches,
-In the wild storm,

Take thy food and sport by snatches!
The seaman hews his mast down, and the merchant For the gambol and the jest,
Heaves to the billows wares he once deem'd pre- Thou wert wont to love the best,
cious :

Graver follies must thou follow,
So prince and peer, 'mid popular contentions,

But as senseless, false, and hollow. Cast off their favorites.

Life, a Poem. Old Play

(8.)—CHAP. XIX. (2. CHAP. VI.

It is and is not—'tis the thing I sought for, Thou hast each secret of the household, Francis.

Have kneeld for, pray'd for, risk'd my fame and I dare be sworn thou hast been in the buttery

life for, Steeping thy curious humor in fat ale,

And yet it is not—no more than the shadow And in the butler's tattle—ay, or chatting

Upon the hard, cold, flat, and polish'd mirror, With the glib waiting-woman o'er her comfits

Is the warm, graceful, rounded, living substance These bear the key to each domestic mystery. Which it presents in form and lineament. Old Play.

Old Play. (3.)-CHAP. VIII.

(9.)-CHAP. XXIII. The sacred tapers' lights are gone,

Give me a morsel on the greensward rather, Gray moss has clad the altar stone,

Coarse as you will the cooking-Let the fresh The holy image is o'erthrown,


Bubble beside my napkin--and the free birds, Flatter the waiting-woman, bribe the valet; Twittering and chirping, hop from bough to But know, that I her father play the Gryphon. bough,

Tameless and sleepless, proof to fraud or bribe, To claim the crums I leave for perquisites And guard the hidden treasure of her beauty. Your prison-feasts I like not.

The Spanish Father. The Woodman, a Drama.

(16.)CHAP. XXXV. (10.)-CHAP. XXIV.

It is a time of danger, not of revel, 'Tis a weary life this

When churchmen turn to masquers. Vaults overhead, and grates and bars around me,

The Spanish Fatka. And my sad hours spent with aş sad companions, Whose thoughts are brooding o’ef their own mis

(17.)-CHAP. XXXVII. chances,

Ay, sir-our ancient crown, in these wild times, Far, far too deeply to take part in mine.

Oft stood upon a cast—the gamester's ducat,
The Woodsman. So often staked, and lost, and then regain'd,

Scarce knew so many hazards.
(11.)-CHAP. xxv.

The Spanish Father.
And when Love's torch hath set the heart in flame,
Comes Seignor Reason, with his saws and cautions,
Giving such aid as the old gray-beard Sexton,
Who from the church-vault drags his crazy engine,
To ply its dribbling ineffectual streamlet
Against a conflagration.

from Kenilworth.
Old Play.

Yes, it is she whose eyes look'd on thy childhood,
And watch'd with trembling hope thy dawn of

(1.)GOLDTHRED'S SONG. That now, with these same eye-balls, dimm'd with " AFTER some brief interval, Master Goldthred, age,

at the earnest instigation of mine host, and the And dimmer yet with tears, sees thy dishonor. joyous concurrence of his guests, indulged the com

Old Play.

pany with the following morsel of melody:"— (13.)-CHAP. XXX.

Or all the birds on bush or tree,
In some breasts passion lies conceald and silent, Commend me to the owl,
Like war's swart powder in a castle vault,

Since he may best ensample be
Until occasion, like the linstock, lights it;

To those the cup that trowl. Then comes at once the lightning and the thun- For when the sun hath left the west, der,

He chooses the tree that he loves the best, And distant echoes tell that all is rent asunder. And he whoops out his song, and he laughs at his

Old Play


Then, though hours be late, and weather foul, (14.)-CHAP. XXXIII.

We'll drink to the health of the bonny, bonny Death distant 1–No, alas ! he's ever with us,

And shakes the dart at us in all our actings:
He lurks within our cup, while we're in health ; The lark is but a bumpkin fowl,
Sits by our sick-bed, mocks our medicines ;

He sleeps in his nest till morn;
We cannot walk, or sit, or ride, or travel,

But my blessing upon the jolly owl,
But death is by to seize us when he lists.

That all night blows his horn.
The Spanish Father. Then up with your cup till you stagger in speech,

And match me this catch, till you swagger and (15.)-CHAP. XXXIV.

screech, Ay, Pedro,-Come you here with mask and lan. And drink till you wink, my merry men each ; tern,

For, though hours be late, and weather be foul, Ladder of ropes, and other moonshine tools We'll drink to the health of the bonny, bonny Why, youngster, thou may'st cheat the old owl. Duenna,

Chap. ii.



This is rare news thou tell'st me, my good fellow;

There are two bulls fierce battling on the green " Ar the approach of the Queen, upon sight For one fair heifer—if the one goes down, of whom, as struck by some heavenly vision, the

The dale will be more peaceful, and the herd, gigantic warder dropped his club, resigned his

Which have small interest in their brulziement, keys, and gave open way to the Goddess of the

May pasture there in peace. night, and all her magnificent train.”

Old Play. What stir, what turmoil, have we for the nones?

(5.)–CHAP, XVII. Stand back, my masters, or beware your bones !

Well, then, our course is chosen ; spread the sail, — Sirs, I'm a warder, and no man of straw;

Heave oft the lead, and mark the soundings well; My voice keeps order, and my club gives law.

Look to the helm, good master; many a shoal

Marks this stern coast, and rocks where sits the Yet soft-nay stay–what vision have we here?

siren, What dainty darling's this what peerless peer?

Who, like ambition, lures men to their ruin. What loveliest face, that loving ranks enfold,

The Shipwreck. Like brightest diamond chased in purest gold ? Dazzled and blind, mine office I forsake,

(6.)-CHAP. XXIII. My club, my key, my knee, my homage take.

Now God be good to me in this wild pilgrimage ! Bright paragon, pass on in joy and bliss ;

All hope in human aid I cast behind me. Beshrew the gate that opes not wide at such a

Oh, who would be a woman? who that fool,
sight as this !

A weeping, pining, faithful, loving woman?
Chap. xxx.

She hath hard measure still where she hopes

And all her bounties only make ingrates.

Love's Pilgrimage. (3.)—MOTTOES.

(7.)-CHAP. xxv. (1.)-CHAP. IV.

Hark! the bells summon, and the bugle calls, Nor serve two masters ?-Here's a youth will But she the fairest answers not; the tide

Of nobles and of ladies throngs the halls, Would fain serve God, yet give the devil his due; But she the loveliest must in secret hide. Says grace before he doth a deed of villany,

What eyes were thine, proud Prince, which in the And returns his thanks devoutly when 'tis acted.

gleam Old Play.

Of yon gay meteors lost that better sense,

That o'er the glow-worm doth the star esteem, (2.)-CHAP. V.

And merit's modest blush o'er courtly insolence ? He was a man

The Glass Slipper. Versed in the world as pilot in his compass. The needle pointed ever to that interest

(8.)-CHAP. XXVIII. Which was his loadstar, and he spread his sails

What, man, ne'er lack a draught, when the full With vantage to the gale of others' passion. The Deceiver-a Tragedy. Stands at thine elbow, and craves emptying !

Nay, fear not me, for I have no delight
(3.)-CHAP. VII.

To watch men's vices, since I have myself
This is He

Of virtue naught to boast of.—I'm a striker,
Who rides on the court-gale; controls its tides;

Would have the world strike with me, pell-mell, Knows all their secret shoals and fatal eddies;

all. Whose frown abases, and whose smile exalts.

Pandcemonium. He shines like any rainbow---and, perchance, His colors are as transient.

(9.)-CHAP. XXIX. Old Play.

Now fare thee well, my master! if true service

Be guerdon'd with hard looks, e'en cut the tow1 "This is an imitation of Gascoigne's verses, spoken by the line, Herculean porter, as mentioned in the text [of the Novel]. And let our barks across the pathless flood The original may be found in the republication of the Princely Pleasures of Kenilworth, by the same author, in the History of Hold different courses. Kenilworth. Chiswick, 1821.


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