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, In silent reverence, or begg'd King Henry sate in his tent alone, Fresh conquests he was planning there To I have past forty years of peace But what a weight of woe hast thou I used to see along the stream, 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, I never hear the traveller's voice, But I have heard the village maid I used to see the youths row here, 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, The hermit heard King Henry speak; His face was gentle, and for that What, if no miracle from heaven The murderer's arm control, Think you for that the weight of blood Thou conqueror King, repent in time, For, Henry, thou hast heard the threat, King Henry forced a careless smile, OLD CHRISTOVAL'S ADVICE, AND THE REASON WHY HE GAVE IT. Ir thy debtor be poor, old Christoval cried, For he who preserves a poor man from want 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 You shall have the farm, young Christoval, But a surety provide, in whom I can confide, I was poor, and I had not a friend on earth, We stood by the porch of St. Andres" church, Accept for my surety St. Isidro, The saint in heaven may perhaps be my friend, We entered the church and came to his grave, I am friendless, holy St. Isidro, I call upon thee my surety to be, I was idle; the day of payment came on, I fear'd the wrath of St. Isidro, But I fear'd Henrique more. On a dark, dark night I took my flight, 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, Weary I was, and safe I thought; I had, I found, been running round I shook like a palsy and fell on my knees, I have been idle, good master! I cried, If thou hast been idle, Henrique said, Homeward I went a penitent, As he punish'd my fault before. When my debtor was poor, old Christoval said, I remembered Henrique was good to me, When my neighbour has sinn'd, old Christoval said, For I thought of the night by St. Andres' church, 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, The court was a desert if she were not there, |