THE LEGEND OF THE TEUFEL-HAUS. THE way was lone, and the hour was late, Poor youth, of a woman's broken vow, Of the cup dashed down, ere the wine was tasted, Of eloquent speeches sadly wasted, Of a gallant heart all burnt to ashes, And the Baron of Katzberg's long mustaches. At last he opened his great blue eyes, Found that his hunter had turned his back "By Cæsar's head," Sir Rudolph said, "It were a sorry joke, If I to-night should make my bed On the turf, beneath an oak! Now, for thy sake, good roan, I would we were beneath a roof, Ere the tongue could rest, ere the lips could close, It was not the scream of a merry boy Nor the roar of a Yorkshire clown ;-oh, no! Half uttered, perhaps, and stifled half, A good old-gentlemanly laugh; Such as my uncle Peter's are, When he tells you his tales of Dr. Parr. The rider looked to the left and the right, With something of marvel, and more of fright: When a light shone out from a hill hard by. As Mrs. Macquill's delighted lad, When he turns away from the Pleas of the Crown, Of Plaintiffs' and Defendants' histories, For Mrs. Camac's in Mansfield Street. At a lofty gate Sir Rudolph halted; The screeching of owls, and the baying of hounds, The hollow toll of the turret bell, The call of the watchful sentinel, And a groan at last, like a peal of thunder, But knowing that all untimely question And said,—“You're just in time for supper!" They led him to the smoking board, Find such a group of ruffian faces As thronged that chamber: some were talking And some were drunk, and some were dreaming, He thought, as he gazed on the fearful crew, That the lamps that burned on the walls burned blue. The Knight looked down, and the Knight looked up, "Ho, ho," said his host with angry brow, "I wot our guest is fine; Our fare is far too coarse, I trow, For such nice taste as thine: Yet trust me I have cooked the food, Since I have lived in this old wood, "The savoury buck and the ancient cask But ere he taste, it is fit he ask For a blessing on bowl and meat. Let me but pray for a minute's space, And bid me pledge ye then ; I swear to ye, by our Lady's grace, I shall eat and drink like ten!" The Lord of the castle in wrath arose, And overturned a flagon. And "Away," quoth he, "with the canting priest, Who comes uncalled to a midnight feast, And breathes through a helmet his holy benison, To sour my hock, and spoil my venison !" That moment all the lights went out; And they dragged him forth, that rabble rout, And every sort of incivility. They barred the gates; and the peal of laughter, Sudden and shrill, that followed after, |