Andromeda and Other Poems by Charles Kingsley
page 46 of 157 (29%)
page 46 of 157 (29%)
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Steading and hamlet and churches tall;
And Christes poor were ousten forth, To beg their bread from south to north. So tarry at home, and fast and pray, Lest fiends hunt thee in the judgment-day.' The monk he vanished where he stood; King William sterte up wroth and wood; Quod he, 'Fools' wits will jump together; The Hampshire ale and the thunder weather Have turned the brains for us both, I think; And monks are curst when they fall to drink. A lothly sweven I dreamt last night, How there hoved anigh me a griesly knight, Did smite me down to the pit of hell; I shrieked and woke, so fast I fell. There's Tyrrel as sour as I, perdie, So he of you all shall hunt with me; A grimly brace for a hart to see.' The Red King down from Malwood came; His heart with wine was all aflame, His eyne were shotten, red as blood, He rated and swore, wherever he rode. They roused a hart, that grimly brace, A hart of ten, a hart of grease, Fled over against the kinges place. The sun it blinded the kinges ee, A fathom behind his hocks shot he: 'Shoot thou,' quod he, 'in the fiendes name, |
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