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The thievish elfe beholds with pale affright
The gardner near, and weets not where to flee:
"And will my bond forefend thilke miserie?
That shalt thou have; and for thy peace beside,
What mote I more? housekeeper shalt thou be”-
An awfull oath forthwith his promise tied,

And Kathrin was as blythe as ever blythesome bride.

His aunt fell sick for very dole to see

Her kindest counsels scornd, and sore did pine
To think what well she knew would shortly be,
Cadwallins blood debasd in Kathrins line;
For very dole she died. O sad propine,
Syr knight, for all that care which she did take!
How many a night, for coughs and colds of thine,
Has she sat up, rare cordial broths to make,
And cockerd thee so kind with many a daintie cake!

Soft as the gossamer in summer shades
Extends its twinkling line from spray to spray,
Gently as sleep the weary lids invades,
So soft, so gently pleasure mines her way:
But whither will the smiling fiend betray,
Ah, let the knights approaching days declare!
Though everie bloome and flowre of buxom May
Bestrew her path, to deserts cold and bare
The mazy path betrays the giddy wight unware.

"Ah!" says the wizard," what may now availe His manlie sense that fairest blossoms bore,

His temper gentle as the whispering gale,
His native goodnesse, and his vertuous lore!
Now through his veins, all uninflamd before,
Th' enchanted cup of dissipation hight

Has shedd, with subtil stealth, through everie pore,
Its giddy poison, brewd with magicke might,
Each budd of gentle worth and better thought to
blight.

"So the Canadian, traind in drery wastes
To chase the foming bore and fallow deer,
At first the traders beverage shylie tastes;
But soon with headlong rage, unfelt whyleare,
Inflamd he lusts for the delirious cheer:
So bursts the boy disdainful of restrent,
Headlong attonce into the wylde career
Of jollitie, with all his mind unbent,

And dull and yrksome hangs the day in sports unspent.

"Now fly the wassal seasons wingd with glee,
Each day affords a floode of roring joy;

The springs green months ycharmd with cocking flee,
The jolly horce-race summers grand employ,
His harvest sports the foxe and hare destroy;
But the substantial comforts of the bowl
Are thine, O Winter! thine to fire the boy
With Englands cause, and swell his mightie soul,
Till dizzy with his peres about the flore he rowl.

"Now round his dores ynail'd on cloggs of wood Hang many a badgers snout and foxes tail,

The which had he through many a hedge persewd, Through marsh, through meer, dyke, ditch, and delve and dale;

To hear his hair-breadth scapes would make you pale; Which well the groome hight Patrick can relate, Whileas on holidays he quaffs his ale;

And not one circumstance will he forgett,

So keen the braggard chorle is on his hunting sett.

"Now on the turf the knight with sparkling eyes
Beholds the springing racers sweep the ground;
Now lightlie by the post the foremost flies,
And thondring on, the rattling hoofs rebound;
The coursers groan, the cracking whips resound:
And gliding with the gale they rush along

Right to the stand. The knight stares wildly round,
And, rising on his sell, his jocund tongue

Is heard above the noise of all the noisie throng.

"While thus the knight persewd the shaddow joy,
As youthful spirits thoughtlesse led the way,
Her gilden baits, ah, gilded to decoy!
Kathrin did eve and morn before him lay,
Watchfull to please, and ever kindlie gay;
Till, like a thing bewitchd, the carelesse wight
Resigns himself to her capricious sway:

Then soon, perdie, was never charme-bound spright
In necromancers thrall in halfe such pitteous plight.

with many

"Her end accomplishd, and her hopes at stay,
What need her now, she recks, one smyle bestow;
Each care to please were trouble thrown away,
And thriftlesse waste,
maxims moe,
As, What were she the better did she so?
She conns, and freely sues her native bent;
Yet still can she to guard his thralldom know,

Though grimd with, snuff in tawdrie gown she went,
Though peevish were her spleen and rude her jolli-

ment.

"As when the linnett hails the balmie morne,
And roving through the trees his mattin sings,
Lively with joy, till on a lucklesse thorne
He lights, where to his feet the birdlime clings;
Then all in vain he flapps his gaudie wings;
The more he flutters still the more foredone:
So fares it with the knight: each morning brings
His deeper thrall; ne can he brawling shun,
For Kathrin was his thorne and birdlime both in one.

"Or, when atop the hoary western hill
The ruddie sunne appears to rest his chin,
When not a breeze disturbs the murmuring rill,
And mildlie warm the falling dewes begin,
The gamesome trout then shows her silverie skin,
As wantonly beneath the wave she glides,
Watching the buzzing flies, that never blin,

Then, dropt with pearle and golde, displays her sides, While she with frequent leape the ruffled streame divides.

"On the greene banck a truant schoolboy stands;
Well has the urchin markt her merry play,
An ashen rod obeys his guilefull hands,
And leads the mimick fly across her way;
Askaunce, with wistly look and coy delay,
The hungrie trout the glitteraund treachor eyes,
Semblaunt of life, with speckled wings so gay;
Then, slylie nibbling, prudish from it flies,

Till with a bouncing start she bites the truthless prize.

"Ah, then the younker gives the fatefull twitch;
Struck with amaze she feels the hook ypight
Deepe in her gills, and, plonging where the beech
Shaddows the poole, she runs in dred affright;
In vain the deepest rock, her late delight,
In vain the sedgy nook for help she tries;
The laughing elfe now curbs, now aids her flight,
The more entangled still the more she flies,
And soon amid the grass the panting captive lies.

“Where now, ah pity! where that sprightly play,
That wanton bounding, and exulting joy,
That lately welcomd the retourning ray,
When by the rivlett bancks, with blushes coy,
April walkd forth-ah! never more to toy
In purling streame, she pants, she gasps, and dies!
Aye me! how like the fortune of the boy,
His days of revel and his nights of noise

Have left him now, involvd, his lemmans hapless

prize.

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