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istic song, to a sort of derry-down ehorus, appropriate to an old English ditty.*

THE BAREFOOTED FRIAR.

1.

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.

2.

Your knight for his lady pricks forth in career,

And is brought home at even-song prick'd through with a

spear;

I confess him in haste-for his lady desires

No comfort on earth save the Barefooted Friar's.

3.

Your monarch?-Pshaw! many a prince has been known To barter his robes for our cowl and our gown,

* 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.

But which of us e'er felt the idle desire

To exchange for a crown the grey hood of a Friar!

4.

The Friar has walk'd out, and where'er he has gone,
The land and its fatness is mark'd for his own;
He can roam where he lists, he can stop when he tires,
For every
man's house is the Barefooted Friar's.

5.

He's expected at noon, and no wight till he comes
May profane the great chair, or the porridge of plumbs;

For the best of the cheer, and the seat by the fire,

Is the undenied right of the Barefooted Friar.

6.

He's expected at night, and the pasty's made hot,

They broach the brown ale and they fill the black pot, And the good-wife would wish the good-man in the mire, Ere he lack❜d a soft pillow, the Barefooted Friar.

7.

Long flourish the sandal, the cord, and the cope,
The dread of the devil and trust of the Pope;
For to gather life's roses, unscathed by the briar,
Is granted alone to the Barefooted Friar !

"By my troth," said the knight, "thou hast sung well and lustily, and in high praise of thine order. And, talking of the devil, Holy Clerk, are you not afraid that he may pay you a visit during some of your uncanonical pastimes ?"

"I uncanonical!" answered the hermit; "I scorn the charge-I scorn it with my heels.-I serve the duty of my chapel duly and trulyTwo masses daily, morning and evening, primes, and vespers, aves, credos, paters". "Excepting moon-light nights, when the venison is in season," said his guest.

noons,

"Exceptis excipiendis," replied the hermit, 66 as our old abbot taught me to say when impertinent laymen should ask me if I kept every punctilio of my order."

"True, holy father," said the knight; "but the devil is apt to keep an eye on such exceptions; he goes about, thou knowest, like a roaring lion."

"Let him roar here if he dares," said the friar; "a touch of my cord will make him roar as loud as the tongs of St Dunstan himself did.

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I never feared man, and I as little fear the devil and his 'imps.-Saint Dunstan, Saint Dubric, Saint Winibald, Saint Winifred, Saint Swibert, Saint Willick, not forgetting Saint Thomas a Kent, and my own poor merits to speed, I defy every devil of them, come cut and long tail.— But to let you into a secret, I never speak upon such subjects, my friend, until after morning vespers."

He changed the conversation; fast and furious grew the mirth of the parties, and many a song was exchanged betwixt them, when their revels were interrupted by a loud knocking at the door of the hermitage.

The occasion of this interruption we can only explain by resuming the adventures of another set of our characters; for, like old Ariosto, we do not pique ourselves upon continuing uniformly to keep company with any one personage of our drama.

CHAPTER IV.

Away! our journey lies through dell and dingle,
Where the blythe fawn trips by its timid mother,
Where the broad oak, with intercepting boughs,
Chequers the sun-beam in the green-sward alley-
Up and away!-for lovely paths are these

To tread, when the glad Sun is on his throne;
Less pleasant and less safe when Cynthia's lamp
With doubtful glimmer lights the dreary forest.
Ettrick Forest.

WHEN Cedric the Saxon saw his son drop senseless down in the lists at Ashby, his first impulse was to order him into the custody and care of his own attendants, but the words choked in his throat. He could not bring himself to acknowledge, in presence of such an assembly, the son whom he had renounced and disinherited. He ordered, however, Oswald to keep an eye upon him; and directed that officer, with two of his serfs, to convey Ivanhoe to Ashby so soon as the crowd was dispersed. Oswald, however, was

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