Ah, Jenny!" he cried, "thou crafty old jade!

Is it thee? I'll beat thy bones bare.

Good gentleman, fear not; no spirit is nigh,

Which has follow'd you here from the common hard by, 'Tis only old Gaffer's grey mare!"

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's, 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 through the camp,
Their heads the soldiers bent

In silent reverence, or begg'd
A blessing as he went;
And so the hermit past along,
And reach'd the royal tent,

King Henry sate in his tent alone,
The map before him lay,

Fresh conquests he was planning there
grace the future day.

To

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.

I never hear the traveller's voice,
In fear he hastens by;

But I have heard the village maid
In vain for succour cry.

I used to see the youths row here,
And watch the dripping oar,
As pleasantly their viols' tones
Came softened to the shore.

King Henry, many a blacken'd 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
Has given it to my hand P

The hermit heard King Henry speak;
And angrily look'd 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.

OLD CHRISTOVAL'S ADVICE,

AND THE REASON WHY HE GAVE IT.

Ir thy debtor be poor, old Christoval cried,
Exact not too hardly thy due,

For he who preserves a poor man from want
May preserve him from wickedness too.

If thy neighbour should sin, old Christoval cried, Never, never unmerciful be!

For remember, it is by the mercy of God,

That thou art not as wicked as he.

At sixty and seven the hope of heaven
Is my comfort, old Christoval cried,
But if God had cut me off in my youth,
I might not have gone there when I died.

You shall have the farm, young Christoval,
My good master Henrique said,

But a surety provide, in whom I can confide,
That duly the rent shall be paid.

I was poor, and I had not a friend on earth,
And I knew not what to say;

We stood by the porch of St. Andres" church,
And it was on St. Isidro's day..

Accept for my surety St. Isidro,
I ventured to make reply;

The saint in heaven may perhaps be my friend,
But friendless on earth am I.

We entered the church and came to his grave,
And I fell on my bended knee;

I am friendless, holy St. Isidro,
And I venture to call upon thee.

I call

upon thee my surety to be,
Thou knowest my honest intent,
And if ever I break my plighted word
Let thy vengeance make me repent!

I was idle; the day of payment came on,
And I had not the money in store,

I fear'd the wrath of St. Isidro,

But I fear'd Henrique more.

On a dark, dark night I took my flight,
And hastily fled away,

It chanced by St. Andres' church

The road I had chosen lay.

As I pass'd the door I thought what I had swore

Upon St. Isidro's day,

And I seem'd to fear because he was near,

And faster I hasten'd away.

So all night long I hurried on,
Pacing full many a mile,
I knew not his avenging hand
Was on me all the while.

Weary I was, and safe I thought;
But when it was daylight

I had, I found, been running round
And round the church all night.

I shook like a palsy and fell on my knees,
And for pardon devoutly I
pray'd:
When my master came up-What! Christoval,
You are here betimes, he said.

I have been idle, good master! I cried,
Good master, and I have been wrong;
And I have been running round the church
In penance all night long.

If thou hast been idle, Henrique said,
Go home and thy fault amend;
I will not oppress thee, Christoval,
May the Saint thy labour befriend.

Homeward I went a penitent,
And I never was idle more;
St. Isidro blest my industry

As he punish'd my fault before.

When my debtor was poor, old Christoval said,
I have never exacted my due,

I remembered Henrique was good to me,
And copied his goodness too.

When my neighbour has sinn'd, old Christoval said,
I have ever forgiven his sin,

For I thought of the night by St. Andres' church,
And remember'd what I might have been.

KING CHARLEMAGNE.

T was strange that he loved her, for youth was gone by, And the bloom of her beauty was fled,

"Twas the glance of the harlot that gleam'd in her eye, And all but the monarch disgusted descry

The art that had tinged her cheek red.

Yet he thought with Agatha none might compare,
That kings might be proud of her chain;

The court was a desert if she were not there,
She only was lovely, she only was fair,
Such dotage possess'd Charlemagne.