Rebecca his wife had often wish'd To sit in St. Michael's chair; For she should be the mistress then If she had once sat there. It chanced that Richard Penlake fell sick, "Now hear my prayer, St. Michael! and spare My husband's life," quoth she; "And to thine altar we will go, Six marks to give to thee." Richard Penlake repeated the vow, For woundily sick was he; "Save me, St. Michael, and we will go Six marks to give to thee." When Richard grew well, Rebecca his wife Merrily, merrily rung the bells, The bells of St. Michael's tower, When Richard Penlake and Rebecca his wife Arrived at St. Michael's door. Six marks they on the altar laid, Up the tower Rebecca ran, Round and round and round; 'Twas a giddy sight to stand a-top, "A curse on the ringers for rocking The tower!" Rebecca cried, As over the church battlements She strode with a long stride. "A blessing on St. Michael's chair!" She said as she sat down: Merrily, merrily rung the bells, And out Rebecca was thrown. Tidings to Richard Penlake were brought "Now shall we toll for her poor soul The great church bell?" they said. "Toll at her burying," quoth Richard Penlake, "Toll at her burying," quoth he; "But don't disturb the ringers now In compliment to me." KING HENRY V. and the HERMIT of DREUX. While Henry V. lay at the siege of Dreux, an honest Hermit unknown to him, came and told him the great evils he brought on Christendom by his unjust ambition, who usurped the kingdom of France, against all manner of right, and contrary to the will of God; wherefore in his holy name he threatened him with a severe and sudden punishment if he desisted not from his enterprize. Henry took this exhortation either as an idle whimsey, or a suggestion of the dauphin's, and was but the more confirmed in his design. But the blow soon followed the threatening; for within some few months after he was smitten with a strange and incurable disease. Mezeray. He past unquestion'd through the camp, Their heads the soldiers bent In silent reverence, or begg'd A blessing as he went ; King Henry sate in his tent alone, The map before him lay, Fresh conquests he was planning there To grace the future day. King Henry lifted up his eyes The intruder to behold; With reverence he the hermit saw, His look was gentle as a Saint's, "Repent thee, Henry, of the wrongs Which thou hast done this land! O King, repent in time, for know "I have past forty years of Beside the river Blaise, peace But what a weight of woe hast thou Laid on my latter days! |