To haunted stream, remote from man, he hied, 50 And first, a wildly murmuring wind 'gan creep With instantaneous gleam, illumed the vault of night. 55 Anon in view a portal's blazoned arch 60 The long-robed minstrels wake the warbling wire, And some with mellow breath the martial pipe inspire. With merriment and song and timbrels clear, 65 : Of tapers, gems, and gold, the echoing forests blaze. Now bound aloft with vigorous spring, then glance 70 Oft when the winter storm had ceased to rave, Thence musing onward to the sounding shore, 75 80 Listening, with pleasing dread, to the deep roar Of the wide-weltering waves. When sulphurous clouds rolled on th' autumnal day, What time the lightning's fierce career began, Responsive to the sprightly pipe when all 85 And o'er heaven's rending arch the rattling thunder ran. 90 In sprightly dance the village youth were joined, From the rude gambol far remote reclined, Soothed with the soft notes warbling in the wind. 95 Ah then all jollity seemed noise and folly Ah, what is mirth but turbulence unholy When with the charm compared of heavenly melancholy! "Thou 'rt ryght," quod hee, "for, by the Godde That syttes enthroned on hyghe, Charles Bawdin and hys fellowes twaine To-daie shall surelie die!" ΙΟ And nowe the bell beganne to tolle, And claryonnes to sounde; Syr Charles hee herde the horses feete And just before the officers His lovynge wyfe came ynne, Weepynge unfeigned teeres of woe, Wythe loude and dysmalle dynne. "Sweet Florence, nowe I praie forbere! Praie Godde thatt ev'ry Christian soule 15 20 "Ah, sweete Syr Charles, why wylt thou goe "Teache them to runne the nobile race Florence, shou'd dethe thee take-adieu! Thenne Florence raved as anie madde, "Oh staie, mye husbande, lorde, and lyfe!" 'Tyll, tyrèdd oute wythe "ravynge loud, Uponne a sledde hee mounted thenne, Thanne anie ynne the strete. Before hym went the council-menne, And tassils spanglynge ynne the sunne, Muche glorious to beholde. The Freers of Seincte Augustyne next Alle cladd ynne homelie russett weedes, Ynne diffraunt partes a godlie psaume Thenne fyve-and-twentye archers came; From rescue of kynge Henries friends Syr Charles forr to defend. Bolde as a lyon came Syr Charles, Drawne onne a clothe-layde sledde, Bye two blacke stedes ynne trappynges white, Behynde hym fyve-and-twentye moe Seincte Jameses Freers marched next; Echone hys parte dydd chaunt: Behynde theyre backes syx mynstrelles came, Who tuned the strunge bataunt. Thenne came the maior and eldermenne, Ynne clothe of scarlett deck't; And theyre attendyng menne echone, Lyke Easterne princes trickt. And after them a multitude Of citizenns dydd thronge; The wyndowes were alle fulle of heddes, 100 And whenne hee came to the hyghe crosse, "O thou thatt savest manne fromme synne, Washe mye soule clean thys daie!" "Thou seest mee, Edwarde! traytour vile! Butt bee assured, disloyall manne, 115 Exposed to infamie; I'm greaterr nowe thanne thee! "Bye foule proceedyngs, murdre, bloude, Thou wearest nowe a crowne; And hast appoynted mee to dye, By power nott thyne owne. I 20 |