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,
man's house is the Barefooted Friar's.

For every

5.

He's expected at noon, and no wight till he comes
May profane the great chair, or the porridge of plumbs;
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 good-wife would wish the good man 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!

derry down is supposed to be as ancient, not only as the times of the Heptarchy, but as those of the Druids, and to have furnished the chorus to the hymns of these venerable persons when they went to the wood to gather mistletoe.

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 moon-light 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 my 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-aKent, 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.

CHAPTER IV.

Away! our journey lies through dell and dingle,
Where the blythe fawn trips by its timid mother,
Where the broad oak, with intercepting boughs,
Chequers the sun-beam in the green-sward alley—
Up and away!--for lovely paths are these
To tread, when the glad sun is on his throne;
Less pleasant and less safe when Cynthia's lamp
With doubtful glimmer lights the dreary forest.
Ettrick Forest.

WHEN Cedric the Saxon saw his son drop senseless down in the lists at Ashby, his first impulse was to order him into the custody and care of his own attendants, but the words choked in his throat. He could not bring himself to acknowledge, in presence of such an assembly, the son whom he had renounced and disinherited. He ordered, however, Oswald to keep an eye upon him; and directed that officer, with two of his serfs, to convey Ivanhoe to Ashby so soon as the crowd was dispersed. Oswald, however, was anticipated in this good office. The crowd dispersed indeed, but the knight was nowhere to be

seen.

It was in vain that Cedric's cup-bearer looked around for his young master-he saw the bloody spot on which he had lately sunk down, but himself he saw no longer; it seemed as if the fairies had conveyed him from the spot. Perhaps Oswald (for the Saxons were very superstitious) might have adopted some such hypothesis, to account for Ivanhoe's disappearance, had he not suddenly cast his eye upon a person attired like a squire, in whom he recognized the features of his fellow-servant Gurth. Anxious concerning his master's fate, and in despair at his sudden disappearance, the translated swine-herd was searching for him every where, and had neglected in doing so the concealment on which his own safety depended. Oswald deemed it his duty to secure Gurth, as a fugitive of whose fate his master was to judge.

Renewing his enquiries concerning the fate of Ivanhoe, the only information which the cupbearer could collect from the by-standers was, that the knight had been raised with care by certain well-attired grooms, and placed in a litter belonging to a lady among the spectators, which had immediately transported him out of the press. Oswald, on receiving this intelligence, resolved to return to his master for farther instructions, carrying along with him. Gurth, whom he considered in some sort as a deserter from the service of Cedric.