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“O these are hard questions for my

shallow witt. Nor I cannot answer your grace as

yet: But if you will give me but three

weeks space, Ile do my endeavour to answer your

grace.” “Now three weeks space to thee

will I give, And that is the longest time thou hast to live;

“Now cheare up, sire abbot, did you

never hear yet, That a fool he may learne a wise

man witt? Lend me horse, and serving men,

and your apparel, And Ile ride to London to answere

your quarrel.

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Curses and cries and a gnashing of

teeth, A grapple and stab on the slippery

heath, And Sir Richard leaped up on the

fool that went down, Proud as a conqueror donning his

crown. They broke them away through a

flooding of fire, Trampling the best blood of London

to mire, When suddenly rising a smoke and

a blaze. Made all • the dragon's sons ” stare

in amaze: “Oho!" quoth Sir Richard, “my

city grows hot, I've left it rent-paid to the villainous Scot.”


Then he roared out for a pottle of

sack, Clapped the old trumpeter twice on

the back, Leaped on his bay with a dash and

a swing, Bade all the bells in the city to ring, And when the red flag from the

steeple went down, Open they flung every gate in the


To boot! and to lorse! and away

like a flood, A fire in their eyes, and a sting in

their blood; Hurrying out with a flash and a

flare, A roar of hot guns, a loud trumpet

er's blare, And first, sitting proud as a king on

his throne, At the head of them all dashed Sir

Richard Tyrone. Crimson, and yellow, and purple

and dun, Fluttering scarf, flowing bright in

the sun, Steel like a mirror on brow and on

breast, Scarlet and white on their feather

and crest, Banner that blew in a torrent of rell, Borne by Sir Richard, who rode at

their head.


GOOD NEWS FROM GIENT TO AIX. I SPRANG to the stirrup, and Joris

and he; I galloped, Dirck galloped, we gal

loped all three; Good speed!” cried the watch as

the gate-bolts wdrew, “Speed !" echoed the wall to us

galloping through; Behind shut the postern, the lights

sank to rest, And into the midnight we galloped

abreast. Not a word to each other: we kept

the great pace Neck and neck, stride by stride,

never changing our place. I turned in my saddle and made its

girths tight, Then shortened each stirrup and set

the pique right, Re-buckled the check-strap, chained

slacker the bit; Nor galloped less steadily Roland a

whit. 'Twas moonset at starting, but while

we drew near Lokeren, the cocks crew, and twilight

dawned clear; At Boom, a great yellow star came

out to sce,

The “trumpet" went down — with

a gash on his poll, Struck by the parters of body and

soul. Forty saddles were empty; the

horses ran red With foul Puritan blood from the

slashes that Lled.

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