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And there is room lefte yet in a kantle,

For thine to stande, to make the twelfth out:
This must be done, be thou never so stout;
This must be done, I tell thee no fable,
Maugre the teeth of all thy round table.

When this mortal message from his mouthe past,
Great was the noyse bothe in hall and in bower:
The king fumed; the queene screecht; ladies were
aghast;

Princes puffed; barons blustred; lords began lower;
Knights stormed; squires startled, like steeds in a

stower;

Pages and yeomen yelled out in the hall,
Then in came Sir Kay, the king's seneschal.

Silence, my soveraignes, quoth this courteous knight,
And in that stound the stowre began still:
Then the dwarfe's dinner full deerely was dight;
Of wine and wassel he had his wille:

And, when he had eaten and drunken his fill,
An hundred pieces of fine coyned gold

Were given this dwarf for his message bold.

But say to Sir Ryence, thou dwarf, quoth the king,
That for his bold message I do him defye;
And shortlye with basins and pans will him ring
Out of North-gales; where he and I

With swords, and not razors, quickly shall trye, Whether he or King Arthur will prove the best barbor, And therewith he shook his good sword Escalàbor.

Percy's Reliques.

CARI

Carisbrooke.

CARISBROOKE CHIMES.

ARISBROOKE Church on the fifth of November
Flung out the silver hid deep in her chimes;
This was her burden, "Be pleased to remember
The ill which they did in papistical times!"

Over the woods and the fields rich with tillage,
That fairest of islands embellishing still,
People who walked in the streets of the village

Might hear the sweet echoes chime back from the hill.

I think, my old church, you are somewhat ungracious, And do not remember from whence you descended; Who planned you so skilfully, framed you so spacious, And laid your stone walls with zeal pious and splendid !

What was the fount of that bountiful spirit

Which fashioned each porch to the innermost throne? Who pierced the fair windows whose light we inherit, And carved the quaint heads of your corbels of stone?

Do you forget how the people rejoicéd

When first you stood finished, the crown of the vale? What hymns of thanksgiving rose myriad-voicéd,

What rich scent of incense was borne on the gale?

Or have you forgotten how red were the roses

Which wreathed the new altar now ancient and gray?

Ah! many a witness around you reposes,

Whose dead lips, unsealed, would remember that day!

Pacing the churchyard by moonlight in summer,

Watching the rainbow when green leaves turn sere, I think to the heart of a thoughtful new-comer, Each trace of the old Faith should surely be dear.

All she did here was both noble and tender;
God save her living core,

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peace to her dust; Inspired by her beauty, amazed by her splendor, The poet at least can afford to be just.

And I cannot endure to hear you assuring,

At the top of your voice, (though a sweet one, 't is true!)

The mother who reared you with love so enduring, That she and her children are nothing to you.

Bessie Rayner Parkes.

Carlisle.

LINES

WRITTEN ON A WINDOW-PANE AT THE OLD BUSH HOTEL.

HERE chicks in eggs for breakfast sprawl;

Here godless boys God's glories squall;

Here heads of Scotchmen guard the wall;
But Corbie walks alone for all.

David Hume.

THE SUN SHINES FAIR ON CARLISLE WALL.

HE leaned her head against a thorn,

SHE

The sun shines fair on Carlisle wa'; And there she has her young babe born,

And the lyon shall be lord of a'.

"Smile no sae sweet, my bonnie babe,
The sun shines fair on Carlisle wa';

An ye smile sae sweet ye'll smile me dead,"
And the lyon shall be lord of a'.

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She's howket a grave by the light o' the moon,
The sun shines fair on Carlisle wa';

And there she's buried her sweet babe in,
And the lyon shall be lord of a'.

As she was going to the church,
The sun shines fair on Carlisle wa';
She saw a sweet babe in the porch,
And the lyon shall be lord of a'.

"O bonnie babe, an ye were mine,

The sun shines fair on Carlisle wa';
I'd clead you in silk and sabelline,"
And the lyon shall be lord of a'.”

"O mother mine, when I was thine,
The sun shines fair on Carlisle wa';
To me ye were na half sae kind,
And the lyon shall be lord of a'.

"But now I'm in the heavens hie,

The sun shines fair on Carlisle wa'; And ye have the pains of hell to dree And the lyon shall be lord of a'.

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Anonymous.

LOVE SHALL BE LORD OF ALL.

T was an English ladye bright,

IT

The sun shines fair on Carlisle wall, And she would marry a Scottish knight, For Love will still be lord of all.

Blithely they saw the rising sun,

When he shone fair on Carlisle wall, But they were sad ere day was done, Though Love was still the lord of all.

Her sire gave brooch and jewel fine,
Where the sun shines fair on Carlisle wall;
Her brother gave but a flask of wine,
For ire that Love was lord of all.

For she had lands, both meadow and lea,
Where the sun shines fair on Carlisle wall,
And he swore her death, ere he would see
A Scottish knight the lord of all.

That wine she had not tasted well,
The sun shines fair on Carlisle wall,

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