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NOTWITHSTANDING the prescription of the genial hermit, with which his guest willingly complied, he found it no easy matter to bring the harp to harmony.

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Methinks, holy father,» said he, « the instrument wants one string, and the rest have been somewhat misused.»

"

Wine

Ay, mark'st thou that?» replied the hermit; << that shews thee a master of the craft. and wassel," he added, gravely, casting up his eyes- - all the fault of wine and wassel! I told Allan-a-Dale, the northern minstrel, that he would damage the harp if he touched it after the seventh cup, but he would not be controuled-Friend, I drink to thy successful performance. >>

So saying, he took off his cup with much gravity, at the same time shaking his head at the intemperance of the northern minstrel.

The knight, in the meantime, had brought the strings into some order, and after a short prelude, asked his host whether he would choose a sirvente in the language of oc, or a lai in the language of oui, or a virelai, or a ballad in the vulgar English.

« A ballad, a ballad,» said the hermit, « against all the ocs and ouis of France. Downright English am I, Sir Knight, and downright English was my patron St Dunstan, and scorned oc and oui, as he would have scorned the parings of the devil's hoof-downright English alone shall be sung in this cell. >>

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<< I will assay then,» said the knight, « a ballad composed by a Saxon glee-man, whom I knew in Holy Land.>>

It speedily appeared, that if the knight was not a complete master of the minstrel art, his taste for it had at least been cultivated under the best instructors. Art had taught him to soften the faults of a voice which had little compass, and was naturally rough, rather than mellow, and, in short, had done all that art can do in supplying natural deficiences. His performance, therefore, might have been termed very respectable by abler judges than the hermit, especially as the knight threw into the notes now a degree of spirit, and now of plaintive enthusiasm, which gave force and energy to the verses which he sung.

THE CRUSADER'S RETURN.

I.

High deeds achieved of knightly fame,
From Palestine the champion came;
The cross upon his shoulders borne,
Battle and blast had dimm'd and torn.
Each dint upon his batter'd shield
Was token of a foughten field;
And thus, beneath his lady's bower,
He sung as fell the twilight hour:

"

2.

Joy to the fair!-thy knight behold,
Return'd from yonder land of gold;

No wealth he brings, nor wealth can need,
Save his good arms and battle steed;

His spurs, to dash against a foe,
His lance and sword to lay him low;
Such all the trophies of his toil,
Such-and the hope of Tekla's smile!

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a. Note well her smile!-it edged the blade Which fifty wives to widows made,

When, vain his strength and Mahound's spell, Iconium's turban'd soldan fell.

See'st thou her locks, whose sunny glow

Half shows, half shades, her neck of snow;

Twines not of them one golden thread,
But for its sake a Paynim bled.'

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5.

Joy to the fair!-my name unknown,
Each deed, and all its praise, thine own;
Then, oh! unbar this churlish gate,
The night-dew falls, the hour is late.
Inured to Syria's glowing breath,
I feel the north breeze chill as death;
Let grateful love quell maiden shame,
And grant him bliss who brings thee fame.»

During this performance, the hermit demeaned himself much like a first-rate critic of the present He reclined back upon his

day at a new opera.

seat, with his eyes half shut; now folding his hands and twisting his thumbs, he seemed absorbed in attention, and anon, balancing his expanded palms, he gently flourished them in time to the music. At one or two favourite cadences, he threw in a little assistance of his own, where the knight's voice seemed unable to carry the air so high as his worshipful taste approved. When the song was ended, the anchorite emphatically declared it a good one, and well sung.

« And, yet,» said he, « I think my Saxon countryman had herded long enough with the Normans, to fall into the tone of their melancholy ditties. What took the honest knight from home? or what could he expect but to find his mistress agreably engaged with a rival on his

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return, and his serenade, as they call it, as little regarded as the caterwauling of a cat in the gutter? Nevertheless, Sir Knight, I drink this cup to thee, to the success of all true lovers-I fear none," he added, on observing that the knight (whose brain began to be heated with these repeated draughts,) qualified his flagon from the water pitcher.

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Why," said the knight, « did you not tell me that this water was from the well of patron, St Dunstan ?»

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« Ay, truly," said the hermit, «< and many a hundrel of pagans did he baptize there, but I never heard that he drank any of it. Every thing should be put to its proper use in this world. St Dunstan knew, as well as any one, the prerogatives of a jovial friar.»

And so saying, he reached the harp, and entertained his guest with the following characteristic song, to a sort of derry-down chorus, appropriate to an old English ditty.*

THE BAREFOOTED FRIAR.

I.

I'll give thee, good fellow, a twelvemonth or twain,
To search Europe through, from Byzantium to Spain;
But ne'er shall you find, should you search till you tire,
So happy a man as the Barefooted Friar.

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* It may

be proper to remind the reader, that the chorus of derry down» is supposed to be as ancient, not only as the times of the Heptarchy, but as those of the Druids, and to have furnished the chorus to the hymns of these venerable persons when they went to the wood to gather misseltoe.

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