"Let's drink, and rant, and merry make, And he that spares, ne'er mote be thee." They ranted, drank, and merry made, Till all his gold it waxèd thin; And then his friends they slunk away; They left the unthrifty heir of Linne. He had never a penny left in his purse, Never a penny left but three, "Now well-a-day " said the heir of Linne, "Now well-a-day, and woe is me, For when I was the lord of Linne, I never wanted gold nor fee. "But many a trusty friend have I, But one I wis, was not at home; Another had paid his gold away; Another called him thriftless loon, And bade him sharply wend his way. "Now_well-a-day," said the heir of Linne, "Now well-a-day, and woe is me; For when I had my landes so broad, On me they lived right merrily. "To beg my bread from door to door, "Now I'll away to the lonesome lodge, For there my father bade me wend: When all the world should frown on me I there should find a trusty friend." PART THE SECOND. Away then hied the heir of Linne, O'er hill and holt, and moor and fen, Until he came to the lonesome lodge, That stood so low in a lonely glen. He looked up, he looked down, In hope some comfort for to win; But bare and lothly were the walls; "Here's sorry cheer," quo' the heir of Linne. The little window, dim and dark, Was hung with ivy, brere and yew; No shimmering sun here ever shone, No halesome breeze here ever blew. No chair, ne table he mote spy, That dangling hung up o'er his head. And over it in broad letters These words were written so plain to see: "Ah! gracelesse wretch, hast spent thine all, And brought thyself to penurie? "All this my boding mind misgave, I therefore left this trusty friend: Let it now shield thy foul disgrace, And all thy shame and sorrows end." Sorely shent wi' this rebuke, Never a word spake the heir of Never a word he spake but three: Then round his neck the cord he drew, And sprang aloft with his bodie, Astonyed lay the heir of Linne, He took the bill, and lookt it on, Straight good comfort found he there: It told him of a hole in the wall, fere. "Ile make thee keeper of my forrest, Both of the wild deere and the tame; For but I reward thy bounteous heart, I wis, good fellowe, I were to blame." "Now welladay!" sayth Joan o' the Scales; "Now welladay, and woe is my life! Yesterday I was lady of Linne, Now Ime but John o' the Scales his wife." "Now fare thee well" said the heire of Linne, "Farewell now, John o' the Scales," said he: "Christ's curse light on me, if ever again I bring my lands in jeopardy." PERCY'S RELIQUES. SIEGE AND CONQUEST OF ALHAMA. THE Moorish king rides up and down Through Granada's royal town; Woe is me, Alhama! Letters to the monarch tell Woe is me, Alhama! He quits his mule, and mounts his horse, And through the street directs his course; Through the street of Zacatin When the Alhambra walls he gained, With the silver clarion round. Woe is me, Alhama! Out then spake an aged Moor "Friends! ye have, alas! to know Out then spake old Alfaqui, "By thee were slain, in evil hour, The Abencerrage, Granada's flower; And strangers were received by thee Of Cordova the chivalry. Woe is me, Alhama! "And for this, O king! is sent On thee a double chastisement, Thee and thine, thy crown and realm, One last wreck shall overwhelm.. Woe is me, Alhama!" Fire flashed from out the old Moor's eyes, The monarch's wrath began to rise, Because he answered, and because He spake exceeding well of laws. Woe is me, Alhama! "There is no law to say such things As may disgust the ear of kings:". Thus, snorting with his choler, said The Moorish king, and doomed him dead. Woe is me, Almaha! Moor Alfaqui! Moor Alfaqui! For Alhama's loss displeased. And to fix thy head upon law, And others tremble when they saw. "Cavalier! and man of worth! Woe is me, Alhama! |