The poetical works of Sir Walter Scott ... Notes & life of the author.

re r.:ARtroy. S0!
Our Norham vicar, woe betide,
Is all too well in case to ride.
The priest of Shoreswood-he could rein
The wildest war-horse in your train;
But then, no spearman in the hall
Will sooner swear, or stab, or brawl.
Friar John of Tillmouth were the man,
A blithesome brother at the can,
A welcome guest in hall and bower,
He knows each castle, town, and tower,
In which the wine and ale is good,'Twixt Newcastle and Holy-rood.
But that good maunas ill befalls,
Hath seldom left our castle walls,
Since on the vigil of St Bede,
In evil hour, he crossed the Tweed,
To teach Dame Alison her creed.
Old Bughtrig found him with his wife;
And John, an enemy to strife,
Sans frock and hood, fled for his life.
The jealous churl hath deeply swore,
That, if again he ventures o'er,
He shall shrieve penitent no more.
Little he loves such risques, I know;
Yet, in your guard, perchance will go.9
XXIIL
Young Selby, at the fair hall-board,
Carved to his uncle, and that lord,
And reverently took up the word.
"Kind uncle, woe were we each one,
If harm should hap to Brother John.
lie is a man of mirthful speech,
Can many'a game and gambol teach;
Full well at tables can he play,
And sweep at bowls the stake away,
None can a lustier carol bawl,
The needfullest among us all,
When time hangs heavy in the hall,
And snow comes thick at Christmas tide,
And we can neither-hunt, nor ride
A foray on the Scottish side.
The vowed revenge of Bughtrig rude,
May end in worse than loss of hood.
]Let Friar John, in safety,still
In chimney-corner snore his fill,
RBoast hissing crabs, or flaggons swill;.
i!