"Now fare thee well!" The traveller silent, Whilst terror consumed his soul, Went musing on. The night was still, And every star had drunk his fill At the brim of oblivion's bowl. And now he near to the gibbets approach'd! Yet heeded them not, though they seem'd to dance, Wherefore, he cried, should men incline He trembled, and could not look round. He gallop'd away! the spirit pursued! Now both on the verge of the common arrive, He started! and swift through the still darker lane The turnpike he reach'd; "Oh, tell me,” he cried, KING HENRY V. AND THE HERMIT OF DREUX. 295 "Ah, Jenny!" he cried, "thou crafty old jade! 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 And so the hermit past along, King Henry sate in his tent alone, King Henry lifted up his eyes The intruder to behold, With reverence he the hermit saw, For he was very old; His look was gentle as a saint's, Repent thee, Henry, of the wrongs 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; I used to hear the traveller's voice, I never hear the traveller's voice, I used to see the youths row here, King Henry, many a blacken'd corpse I shall go on, King Henry cried, The hermit heard King Henry speak; His face was gentle, and for that More solemn was his frown. What, if no miracle from heaven Think you for that the weight of blood Lies lighter on his soul? 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, For remember, it is by the mercy of God, At sixty and seven the hope of heaven You shall have the farm, young Christoval, 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 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, So all night long I hurried on, Weary I was, and safe I thought; I had, I found, been running round |