That day in Coimbra,

Many a heart was gay;

But the heaviest heart in Coimbra,

Was that poor Queen's that day.

The festival is over,

The sun hath sunk in the west;

All the people in Coimbra

Have betaken themselves to rest.

Queen Orraca's father confessor

At midnight is awake;

Kneeling at the Martyrs' shrine,
And praying for her sake.

Just at the midnight hour, when all Was still as still could be,

Into the church of Santa Cruz,

All in robes of russet grey,

Poorly were they dight;

Each one girdled with a cord,
Like a friar minorite.

But from those robes of russet grey,
There flow'd a heavenly light;
For each one was the blessed soul

Of a friar minorite.

Brighter than their brethren,

Among the beautiful band;

Five there were, who each did bear A palm branch in his hand.

He who led the brethren,

A living man was he;

And yet he shone the brightest

Of all the company.

Before the steps of the altar,

Each one bow'd his head;

And then with solemn voice they sung

The service of the dead.

"And who are ye, ye blessed saints ?"

The father confessor said;

"And for what happy soul sing ye

The service of the dead?"

"These are the souls of our brethren in bliss,

The Martyrs five are we:

And this is our father Francisco,

Among us bodily.

"We are come hither to perform

Our promise to the Queen;

Go thou to King Affonso,

There was loud knocking at the door,

As the heavenly vision fled;

And the porter called to the confessor,

To tell him the Queen was dead.

1803.

A BALLAD,

SHEWING HOW AN OLD WOMAN RODE DOUBLE,

AND WHO RODE BEFORE HER.

A. D. 852. Circa dies istos, mulier quædam malefica, in villâ quæ Berkeleia dicitur degens, gulæ amatrix ac petulantiæ, flagitiis modum usque in senium et auguriis non po. nens, usque ad mortem impudica permansit. Hæc die quadam cum sederet ad prandium, cornicula quam pro delitiis pascebat, nescio quid garrire cœpit; quo audito, mulieris cultellus de manu excidit, simul et facies pallescere cœpit, et emisso rugitu, hodie, inquit, accipiam grande incommodum, hodieque ad sulcum ultimum meum pervenit aratrum. Quo dicto, nuncius doloris intravit; muliere vero percunctata ad quid veniret, affero, inquit, tibi filii tui obitum & totius familiæ ejus ex subitâ ruinâ interitum. Hoc quoque dolore mulier permota, lecto protinus decubuit graviter infirmata; sentiensque morbum subrepere ad vitalia, liberos quos habuit superstites, monachum videlicet et monacham, per epistolam invitavit; advenientes autem voce singultiente alloquitur. Ego, inquit, o pueri, meo miserabili fato dæmoniacis semper artibus inservivi; ego omnium vitiorum sentina, ego illecebrarum omnium fui magistra. Erat tamen mihi inter hæc mala, spes vestræ