And here the friar would sit and dip his beads,
Thinking of Jonah and the water world;
Or moralising, on the fallen leaf, when now
Autumn's gold banner furled.

And here the young lord, rosy through his curls,
Came stealthily to swim his gilded boat;
Clapping his hands to see the silver jet,

And rainbow-bubbles float.

Here, too, that dreadful night when ruin fell
Upon the house, those red hands washed the

knife;

As from the distant gable came a shriek

From the departing life.

THE JESTER'S SERMON.

THE Jester shook his hood and bells, and leaped upon a chair,

The pages laughed, the women screamed, and tossed their scented hair;

The falcon whistled, stag-hounds bayed, the lapdog barked without,

The scullion dropped the pitcher brown, the cook railed at the lout;

The steward, counting out his gold, let pouch and money fall,

And why? because the Jester rose to say grace in the hall!

The page played with the heron's plume, the steward with his chain,

The butler drummed upon the board, and laughed with might and main;