PART III.

PELLEAS, when he left ETTARRE'S gate,
Through all the lonely woods went groaning great;
And there, while driv'ling round in doleful plight,
He met monk PERCEVALE, reformed knight;
A wise old fox. You'd never catch him in
A tavern, Sundays, drinking milky gin!
PELLEAS button-holed him, and said he,
"As good as GUINEVERE I thought my she!"
Then PERCEVALE, pure soul! did laugh serene.
"My friend," said he, "you must be precious green.
As good as our queen, you thought your she!
I'll bet she's all of that, whoe'er she be."
PELLEAS dropped his jaw and clenched his fist,
Then through his white calcaveous teeth he hissed:

"She'll die, she'll go to burning flame!
She'll mix her ancient blood with shame!
The wind is howling in turret and tree."

"That's so," said PERCEVALE, "but you or I
Can't help all that, you know. So friend, good bye."

In darkest woods--down in a lonely dell,
A peanut woman sat--her wares to sell.
But brave PELLEAS, turning not aside,
O'er that poor woman and her stall did ride.
And as he wildly dashed along, pell-mell,