5.

But beware! beware of the Black Friar,
He still retains his sway,
For he is yet the church's heir,
Whoever may be the lay.
Amundeville is lord by day,

But the monk is lord by night;

Nor wine nor wassail could raise a vassal

To question that friar's right.

6.

Say nought to him as he walks the hall,
And he 'll say nought to you;
He sweeps along in his dusky pall,
As o'er the grass the dew.

Then gramercy! for the Black Friar ;
Heaven sain him! fair or foul,

And whatsoe'er may be his

Let ours be for his soul.

prayer,

XLI.

The lady's voice ceased, and the thrilling wires
Died from the touch that kindled them to sound;
And the pause follow'd, which, when song expires,
Pervades a moment those who listen round;
And then of course the circle much admires,
Nor less applauds, as in politeness bound,
The tones, the feeling, and the execution,
To the performer's diffident confusion.

XLII.

Fair Adeline, though in a careless way,"
As if she rated such accomplishment

As the mere pastime of an idle day,

Pursued an instant for her own content,
Would now and then as 't were without display,
Yet with display in fact, at times relent
To such performances with haughty smile,
To show she could, if it were worth her while.

XLIII.

Now this (but we will whisper it aside)
Was-pardon the pedantic illustration—
Trampling on Plato's pride with greater pride,
As did the Cynic on some like occasion;
Deeming the sage would be much mortified,
Or thrown into a philosophic passion,
For a spoil'd carpet-but the "Attic Bee"
Was much consoled by his own repartee.3,

XLIV..

Thus Adeline would throw into the shade

(By doing easily whene'er she chose,
What dilettanti do with vast parade),
Their sort of half profession; for it grows
To something like this when too oft display'd,

And that it is so, every body knows

Who 've heard Miss That or This, or Lady T' other,
Show off-to please their company or mother.

XLV.

Oh! the long evenings of duets and trios!
The admirations and the speculations ;
The "Mamma Mias!" and the "Amor Mios!"
The "Tanti Palpitis" on such occasions :
The "Lasciamis," and quavering "Addios!"
Amongst our own most musical of nations;
With "Tu mi chamases" from Portingale,
To soothe our ears, lest Italy should fail.3

XLVI.

In Babylon's bravuras—as the home

Heart-ballads of Green Erin or Grey Highlands, That bring Lochaber back to eyes that roam

O'er far Atlantic continents or islands,

The calentures of music which o'ercome

All mountaineers with dreams that they are nigh lands, No more to be beheld but in such visions,

Was Adeline well versed, as compositions.

XLVII.

She also had a twilight tinge of Blue,

Could write rhymes, and compose more than she wrote; Made epigrams occasionally too

Upon her friends, as every body ought.

But still from that sublimer azure hue,

So much the present dye, she was remote ;

Was weak enough to deem Pope a great poet,
And, what was worse, was not ashamed to show it.

XLVIII.

Aurora-since we are touching upon taste,
Which now-a-days is the thermometer
By whose degrees all characters are class'd—
Was more Shakspearian, if I do not err.
The worlds beyond this world's perplexing waste
Had more of her existence, for in her

There was a depth of feeling to embrace

Thoughts, boundless, deep, but silent too as space.

XLIX.

Not so her gracious, graceful, graceless grace,
The full-grown Hebe of Fitz-Fulke, whose mind,
If she had any, was upon her face,

And that was of a fascinating kind.

A little turn for mischief you might trace

Also thereon, but that's not much; we find Few females without some such gentle leaven, For fear we should suppose us quite in heaven.

L.

I have not heard she was at all poetic,

Though once she was seen reading the "Bath Guide," And "Hayley's Triumphs," which she deem'd pathetic, Because, she said, her temper had been tried

So much, the bard had really been prophetic

Of what she had gone through with,-since a bride. But of all verse, what most insured her praise Were sonnets to herself, or bouts rimés.

LI.

'T were difficult to say what was the object
Of Adeline, in bringing this same lay
To bear on what appear'd to her the subject
Of Juan's nervous feelings on that day.
Perhaps she merely had the simple project

To laugh him out of his supposed dismay;
Perhaps she might wish to confirm him in it,
Though why I cannot say—at least this minute.

But so far the immediate effect

LII.

Was to restore him to his self-propriety,
A thing quite necessary to the elect,

Who wish to take the tone of their society:
In which you cannot be too circumspect,
Whether the mode be persiflage or piety,
But wear the newest mantle of hypocrisy,
On pain of much displeasing the gynecracy.

LIII.

And therefore Juan now began to rally

His spirits, and, without more explanation, To jest upon such themes in many a sally.

Her grace too also seized the same occasion, With various similar remarks to tally,

But wish'd for a still more detail'd narration Of this same mystic friar's curious doings, About the present family's deaths and wooings.

LIV.

Of these few could say more than has been said;
They pass'd, as such things do, for superstition'
With some, while others, who had more in dread

The theme, half credited the strange tradition;
And much was talk'd on all sides on that head;

But Juan, when cross-question'd on the vision, Which some supposed (though he had not avow'd it) Had stirr'd him, answer'd in a way to cloud it.

LV.

And then, the mid-day having worn to one,
The company prepared to separate ;
Some to their several pastimes, or to none;
Some wondering 't was so early, some so late.
There was a goodly match, too, to be run

Between some greyhounds on my lord's estate,
And a young race-horse of old pedigree,
Match'd for the spring, whom several went to see.

LVI.

There was a picture-dealer who had brought

A special Titian, warranted original,
So precious that it was not be bought,

Though princes the possessor were besieging all.
The king himself had cheapen'd it, but thought
The civil list (he deigns to accept, obliging all
His subjects by his gracious acceptation)
Too scanty, in these times of low taxation.

LVII.

But as Lord Henry was a connoisseur,—
The friend of artists, if not arts,—the owner,
With motives the most classical and pure,

So that he would have been the very donor,
Rather than seller, had his wants been fewer,
So much he deem'd his patronage an honour,
Had brought the capo d'opera, not for sale,
But for his judgment,-never known to fail.

LVIII.

There was a modern Goth, I mean a gothic
Bricklayer of Babel, call'd an architect,

Brought to survey these gray walls, which, though so thick,
Might have from time acquired some slight defect;

Who, after rummaging the abbey through thick

And thin, produced a plan, whereby to erect

New buildings of correctest conformation,
And throw down old, which he call'd restoration.

The cost would be a trifle

LIX.

an

"" old

song,"

Set to some thousands ('t is the usual burthen
Of that same tune, when people hum it long)—
The price would speedily repay its worth in
An edifice no less sublime than strong,

By which Lord Henry's good taste would go
Its glory, through all ages shining sunny,
For gothic daring shown in English money.

LX.

4

forth in

There were two lawyers busy on a mortgage
Lord Henry wish'd to raise for a new purchase;
Also a lawsuit upon tenures burgage,

And one on tithes which sure are Discord's torches, Kindling Religion till she throws down her gage,

66

Untying" squires "to fight against the churches;" There was a prize ox, a prize pig, and ploughman, For Henry was a sort of Sabine showman.

LXI.

There were two poachers caught in a steel trap,
Ready for jail, their place of convalescence;
There was a country girl in a close cap

And scarlet cloak (I hate the sight to see, since-
Since-since-in youth I had the sad mishap-
But luckily I've paid few parish fees since)
That scarlet cloak, alas! unclosed with rigour,
Presents the problem of a double figure.

LXII.

A reel within a bottle is a mystery,

One can't tell how it e'er got in or out,
Therefore the present piece of natural history
I leave to those who are fond of solving doubt,
And merely state, though not for the consistory,
Lord Henry was a justice, and that Scout
The constable, beneath a warrant's banner,
Had bagg'd this poacher upon Nature's manor.

LXIII.

Now justices of peace must judge all pieces
Of mischief of all kinds, and keep the game
And morals of the country from caprices

Of those who 've not a licence for the same;
And of all things, excepting tithes and leases,
Perhaps these are most difficult to tame :
Preserving partridges and pretty wenches
Are puzzles to the most precautious benches.