And the breath of vernal gales, Into passion's thrilling words: "Smile, lady, smile!-I will not set Till thou wilt gather roses white One jerk, and there a lady lay, But the rose of her lip had faded away, And her cheek was as white and as cold as clay, And torn was her raven hair. "Ah, ha!" said the fisher, in merry guise, "Her gallant was hooked before;" And the abbot heaved some piteous sighs, For oft he had blessed those deep blue eyes, The eyes of Mistress Shore ! There was turning of keys, and creaking of locks, As he took forth a bait from his iron box. A hermit's cowl, and a baron's crest, Tomes of heresy, loaded dice, And golden cups of the brightest wine That ever was pressed from the Burgundy vine ; There was a perfume of sulphur and nitre, As he came at last to a bishop's mitre ! From top to toe the abbot shook, As the fisherman armed his golden hook; And awfully were his features wrought By some dark dream or wakened thought. On the scaffold his country's vengeance raises, As the swaling wherry settles down, When peril has numbed the sense and will, Though the hand and the foot may struggle still; Wilder far was the abbot's glance, Deeper far was the abbot's trance: Fixed as a monument, still as air, He bent no knee, and he breathed no prayer; But he signed-he knew not why or how The sign of the Cross on his clammy brow. There was turning of keys, and creaking of locks, As he stalked away with his iron box. “Oh, ho! Oh, ho! The cock doth crow; It is time for the fisher to rise and go. He hath knawed in twain my choicest line; Let him swim to the north, let him swim to the south, The abbot will carry my hook in his mouth!" The abbot had preached for many years, With as clear articulation As ever was heard in the House of Peers His words had made battalions quake, He kept the court an hour awake, And the king himself three quarters : But ever, from that hour, 'tis said, He stammered and he stuttered, As if an axe went through his head He stuttered o'er blessing, he stuttered o'er ban, He stuttered, drunk or dry; And none but he and the fisherman Could tell the reason why! |