But they wavered not long, for conscience was strong, And they thought they might get more,

And they refused the gold, but not

So rudely as before.

So all night long by the vestry fire
They quaff'd their gin and ale;
And they did drink, as you may think,
And told full many a tale.

The third night, as by lanthorn light
Thro' the church-yard they went,
He bade them see, and show'd them three
That Mister Joseph sent.

They look'd askance with greedy glance,
The guineas they shone bright,
For the Sexton on the yellow gold
Let fall his lanthorn light.

And he look'd sly with his roguish eye,

And gave a well-tim'd wink,

And they could not stand the sound in his hand, For he made the guineas chink.

And conscience late, that had such weight,

All in a moment fails,

For well they knew that it was true,

A dead man told no tales.

And they gave all their powder and ball,

And took the gold so bright,

And they drank their beer and made good cheer, Till now it was midnight.

Then, tho' the key of the church door

Was left with the Parson his brother,

It opened at the Sexton's touch-
Because he had another.

And in they go with that villain Joe,
To fetch the body by night,
And all the church look'd dismally
By his dark lanthorn light.

They laid the pick-axe to the stones,
And they moved them soon asunder;
They shovell'd away the hard-prest clay,
And came to the coffin under.

They burst the patent coffin first,

And they cut thro' the lead,

And they laugh'd aloud when they saw the shroud, Because they had got at the dead.

And they allowed the Sexton the shroud,

And they put the coffin back,

And nose and knees they then did squeeze
The Surgeon in a sack.

The watchmen as they past along,
Full four yards off, could smell,
And a curse bestowed upon the load
So disagreeable.

So they carried the sack a-pick-a-back,
And they carved him bone from bone;
But what became of the Surgeon's soul.
Was never to mortal known.

KING HENRY V. AND THE HERMIT OF
DREUX.

While Henry V. lay at the siege of Dreux, an honest hermit, unknown to him, came and told him the great evils he brought on Christendom by his unjust ambition, who usurped the kingdom of France, against all manner of right, and contrary to the will of God; wherefore in His holy name he threatened him with a severe and sudden punishment, if he desisted not from his enterprise. Henry took this exhortation either as an idle whimsy, or a suggestion of the Dauphin, and was but the more confirmed in his design. But the blow soon followed the threatening; for within some few months after, he was smitten with a strange and incurable disease.-Mezeray.

HE past unquestioned thro' the camp,

Their heads the soldiers bent
In silent reverence, or begged
A blessing as he went;
And so the Hermit past along
And reached the royal tent.

King Henry sate in his tent alone,
The map before him lay,
Fresh conquests he was planning there

То grace the future day.

King Henry lifted up his eyes

The intruder to behold:

With reverence he the Hermit saw,

For the holy man was old,

His look was gentle as a saint's
And yet his eye was bold.

66

Repent thee, Henry, of the wrongs
That thou hast done this land,
O King repent in time, for know
The judgment is at hand.

"I have past forty years of peace
Beside the river Blaise,

But what a weight of woe hast thou
Laid on my latter days!

"I used to see along the stream
The white sail sailing down,
That wafted food in better times
To yonder peaceful town.

"Henry! I never now behold

The white sail sailing down; Famine, Disease, and Death, and thou Destroy that wretched town.

"I used to hear the traveller's voice
As here he past along,

Or maiden as she loiter'd home
Singing her even-song.

"No traveller's voice may now be heard
In fear he hastens by;
But I have heard the village maid
In vain for succour cry.

"I used to see the youths row down
And watch the dripping oar,
As pleasantly their viols' tones

Came softened to the shore.

King Henry many a blackened corpse I now see floating down!

Thou bloody man! repent in time

And leave this leaguer'd town."

"I shall go on," King Henry cried,
"And conquer this good land,
Seest thou not, Hermit, that the Lord
Hath given it to my hand?"

The Hermit heard King Henry speak,
And angrily looked down ;-
His face was gentle, and for that
More solemn was his frown.

What if no miracle from heaven
The murderer's arm control,
Think you for that the weight of blood
Lies lighter on his soul?

"Thou conqueror King repent in time,
Or dread the coming woe!

For Henry thou hast heard the threat
And soon shalt feel the blow!"

King Henry forced a careless smile,
As the Hermit went his way;
But Henry soon remembered him
Upon his dying day.

**