Old Mortality & Ivanhoe (Illustrated Edition). Walter Scott

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      Let grateful love quell maiden shame,

      And grant him bliss who brings thee fame.”

      During this performance, the hermit demeaned himself much like a first-rate critic of the present day at a new opera. He reclined back upon his seat, with his eyes half shut; now, folding his hands and twisting his thumbs, he seemed absorbed in attention, and anon, balancing his expanded palms, he gently flourished them in time to the music. At one or two favourite cadences, he threw in a little assistance of his own, where the knight’s voice seemed unable to carry the air so high as his worshipful taste approved. When the song was ended, the anchorite emphatically declared it a good one, and well sung.

      “And yet,” said he, “I think my Saxon countrymen had herded long enough with the Normans, to fall into the tone of their melancholy ditties. What took the honest knight from home? or what could he expect but to find his mistress agreeably engaged with a rival on his return, and his serenade, as they call it, as little regarded as the caterwauling of a cat in the gutter? Nevertheless, Sir Knight, I drink this cup to thee, to the success of all true lovers — I fear you are none,” he added, on observing that the knight (whose brain began to be heated with these repeated draughts) qualified his flagon from the water pitcher.

      “Why,” said the knight, “did you not tell me that this water was from the well of your blessed patron, St Dunstan?”

      “Ay, truly,” said the hermit, “and many a hundred of pagans did he baptize there, but I never heard that he drank any of it. Every thing should be put to its proper use in this world. St Dunstan knew, as well as any one, the prerogatives of a jovial friar.”

      And so saying, he reached the harp, and entertained his guest with the following characteristic song, to a sort of derry-down chorus, appropriate to an old English ditty.²³

      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,

      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 plums

      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 goodwife would wish the goodman 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 truly — Two masses daily, morning and evening, primes, noons, and vespers, aves, credos, paters — ”

      “Excepting moonlight nights, when the venison is in season,” said his guest.

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

²² Note C. — Minstrelsy.

      The realm of France, it is well known, was divided betwixt the Norman and Teutonic race, who spoke the language in which the word Yes is pronounced as “oui”, and the inhabitants of the southern regions, whose speech bearing СКАЧАТЬ