Then rose the riot and the din,
Above, beneath, without, within!
For, from its lofty balcony,

Rang trumpet, shalm, and psaltery:

Their clanging bowls old warriors quaff'd,
Loudly they spoke and loudly laugh'd;
Whisper'd young knights in tones more mild,
To ladies fair, and ladies smiled.

The hooded hawks, high perch'd on beam,

The clamour join'd with whistling scream,

And flapp'd their wings, and shook their bells,

In concert with the stag-hounds' yells.

Round go the flasks of ruddy wine

From Bordeaux, Orleans, or the Rhine.
Their tasks the busy servers ply,

And all is mirth and revelry.

Or we may picture to ourselves fuch a feaft as that which Warton has drawn, when the Plantagenet monarch fhared the feftivities of the baron's banquet :

Stately the feast, and high the cheer:

Girt with many an armed peer,

And canopied with golden pall,
Amid Cilgarran's castle hall,

Sublime in formidable state

And warlike splendour Henry sate;
Prepared to stain the briny flood
Of Shannon's lakes with rebel blood.

Illumining the vaulted roof,

A thousand torches flamed aloof:
From massy cups, with golden gleam,
Sparkled the red metheglin's stream:

To grace the gorgeous festival,
Along the lofty-window'd hall

The storied tapestry was hung:
With minstrelsy the rafters rung
Of harps, that with reflected light
From the proud gallery glitter'd bright;
While gifted bards, a rival throng
(From distant Mona, nurse of song;
From Teivi, fringed with umbrage brown;
From Elvy's vale and Cader's crown ;

From many a shaggy precipice

That shades Ierne's hoarse abyss,

And many a sunless solitude

Of Radnor's inmost mountains rude),

To crown the banquet's solemn close,
Themes of British glory chose.

The old ballad, called "Time's Alterations," after deploring the changes which modern customs and times had introduced, and referring to days that had past, says—

The nobles of our land,

Were much delighted then
To have at their command

A crew of lusty men,

Which by their coats were known,

Of tawny, red, or blue,
With crests on their sleeves shown,
When this old cap was new.

And Stowe, in his "Survey of London," has preferved many facts which serve to corroborate the truth of the old ballad. Among other nobles whofe names are thus preferved, are "Robert Nevill, Earl of Warwick, with fix hundred men, all in red jackets embroidered with ragged ftaves before and behind, and was lodged in Warwicke lane, in whofe houfe there was oftentimes fix oxen

eaten at a breakfast, and every tavern was full of his meat; for he that had any acquaintance in that house might have there fo much of fodden and roaft meat as he could prick and carry upon a long dagger. More, I read that Hugh Spencer the elder was banifhed the realm, at which time it was found by inquifition that the faid Spencer had in fundry fhires fifty-one manors, he had twenty-eight thoufand fheep, one thoufand oxen and fteers, one thoufand two hundred kine with their calves; forty mares with their colts, one hundred and fixty drawinghorses, two thoufand hogs, three hundred bullocks, forty tuns of wine, fix hundred bacons, eighty carcaffes of Martilmaffe beef, fix hundred muttons in larder, ten tuns of cider, his armour, plate, and jewels, and ready money, better than £10,000, thirtyfix facks of wool, and a library of books."

The housekeeping of Edward, late Earl of Derby, is not to be forgotten, who had two hundred and twenty men in checkroll, his feeding aged perfons twice every day, fixty and odd, befides "all comers thrice a week, appointed for his dealing days, and every Good Friday two thousand feven hundred with meat, drink, and money."

Richard Redman, Bishop of Ely (1500, 17th of Henry VII.), " befides his great family housekeeping, alms dish, and relief to the poor, wherefoever he was lodged, in his travelling, when at his coming or going to or from any town, the bells being rung, all the poor would come together, to whom he gave every one fixpence at the leaft."