“Nothing should he ever drink Except the rosy wine, And nowhere should he slumber Save in these arms of mine.” p. 22The knight he off has shaken The deer shape from his frame; In verity fair damsel, The hart he now is tame! p. 22 Long stood she, the Damsel, So deep reflected she: “O for some cunning artifice To rid me quick of thee!” “Sir Peter, if what now I know I had but known before, The children I shall bear thee They ne’er should have been poor. “Within my father’s castle A little girl I strayed, When in the earth a treasure Of ruddy gold they laid. “Down by the strand ’tis buried, Beneath a mighty stone.” Thither to fetch the treasure In haste Sir Peter’s gone. p. 23He has broken up the flinty rock, So deep a hole he’s made— But none shall ever gold dig up Where gold was never laid! p. 23 One shall never gold dig up Where gold was never laid; Never came together more The knight and lovely maid. p. 24THE STALWART MONK p. 24 Above the wood a cloister towers, Gilt window it displays; There lie before it Kempions twelve, The cloister they will raze. There lie before it Kempions twelve, The cloister down will tear; The oxen and the cows they slew The monks should have for fare. The monk he out of the window looked, Then shook both beam and wall: “And be the Kemps no more than twelve, I’ll easily tame them all.” The monk he called to his serving lad: “My club go fetch me in, For I will out to the forest straight And make them cease their din.” p. 25It took fifteen to bring the club, And they strain’d all their might; The monk took it up with fingers two And swung it round so light. p. 25 He takes the club upon his back And into the wood he’s gone, And there met him the Kempions twelve Would fain set him upon. They drew a circle on the ground, And each one troll’d a song; I tell to ye for verity He
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