your gleemen, or harpers, some song of the olden time!"

A murmur of applause went through the Norman part of the assembly; the
Saxons looked up; and some of the more practised courtiers sighed
wearily, for they knew well what ditties alone were in favour with the
saintly Edward.

The low voice of the King in reply was not heard, but those habituated
to read his countenance in its very faint varieties of expression,
might have seen that it conveyed reproof; and its purport soon became
practically known, when a lugubrious prelude was heard from a quarter
of the hall, in which sate certain ghost-like musicians in white
robes--white as winding-sheets; and forthwith a dolorous and dirgelike
voice chaunted a long and most tedious recital of the miracles and
martyrdom of some early saint. So monotonous was the chaunt, that its
effect soon became visible in a general drowsiness. And when Edward,
who alone listened with attentive delight, turned towards the close to
gather sympathising admiration from his distinguished guests, he saw
his nephew yawning as if his jaw were dislocated--the Bishop of
Bayeux, with his well-ringed fingers interlaced and resting on his
stomach, fast asleep--Fitzosborne's half-shaven head balancing to and
fro with many an uneasy start--and, William, wide awake indeed, but
with eyes fixed on vacant space, and his soul far away from the
gridiron to which (all other saints be praised!) the saint of the
ballad had at last happily arrived.

"A comforting and salutary recital, Count William," said the King.

The Duke started from his reverie, and bowed his head: then said,
rather abruptly, "Is not yon blazon that of King Alfred?"