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Then bespake the heire of Linne,
To John o' the Scales wife then spake he: Madame, some almes on me bestowe,
I pray for sweet saint Charitìe.”
"Away, away, thou thriftless loone,
Then bespake a good fellòwe,
Which sat at John o' the Scales his bord; Sayd, "Turn againe, thou heire of Linne; Some time thou wast a well good lord:
"Some time a good fellow thou hast been,
"And ever, I pray thee, John o' the Scales, To let him sit in thy companie:
For well I wot thou hadst his land,
Up then spake him John o' the Scales, All wood he answer'd him againe : "Now Heavens curse on my head,” he sayd, "But I did lose by that bargàine.
"And here I proffer thee, heire of Linne,
"I drawe you to record, lords," he said,
And he pull'd forth three bagges of gold,
He told him forth the good red gold, He told it forth wi' mickle dinne. "The gold is thine, the land is mine,
And now I'm againe the Lord of Linne."
Sayes, "Have thou here, thou good fellowe,
"I make thee keeper of my forrest,
Both of the wild deere and the tame;
"Now welladay!" sayth Joan o' the Scales; "Now welladay! and woe is my life! Yesterday I was Lady of Linne,
Now I'm but John of the Scales his wife."
"Now fare thee well," sayd the heire of Linne; "Farewell now, John o' the Scales," said hee: "Heaven's curse light on me, if ever again I bring my lands in jeopardy."
The Battle of Blenheim.
Ir was a summer's evening,
She saw her brother Peterkin
Roll something large and round, That he beside the rivulet
In playing there had found:
He came to ask what he had found,
That was so large, and smooth, and round.
Old Casper took it from the boy,
Who stood expectant by;
And then the old man shook his head,
And with a natural sigh,
""Tis some poor fellow's skull," said he, "Who fell in the great victory.
"I find them in the garden, for There's many here about; And often when I go to plough,
The ploughshare turns them out; For many thousand men," said he, "Were slain in the great victory."
"Now tell us what 'twas all about,"
With wonder-waiting eyes,-
"It was the English," Casper cried,
"My father lived at Blenheim then, Yon little stream hard by;
They burnt his dwelling to the ground, And he was forced to fly;
So with his wife and child he fled,
Nor had he where to rest his head.
"With fire and sword the country round Was wasted far and wide;
And many a childing mother then
w-born infant died:
But things like that, you know, must be
At every famous victory.
"They say it was a shocking sight,
After the field was won,
For many a thousand bodies here
Lay rotting in the sun:
But things like that, you know must be, After a famous victory.
"Great praise the Duke of Marlbro' won,
Why, 'twas a very wicked thing!"
"Nay, nay, my little girl," quoth he,
"It was a famous victory;
"And every body praised the duke,
"But what good came of it at last ?"
"Why, that I cannot tell," said he;
"But 'twas a famous victory."
Sir Roland Graeme.
THE trumpet has rung on Helvellyn side,
And an hundred steeds came hurrying fleet,
And the gathering cry, and the warning word,
And away they bound-the mountain-deer
And away they go-the brooks call out
With a hoarse and murmuring dash;