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“ At Sempach, on the battle-field,

His bloody corpse lies there.” — “Ah, gracious God !" the lady cried,

“ What tidings of despair !"

Now would you know the minstrel wight,

Who sings of strife so stern, Albert the Souter is he hight,

A burgher of Lucerne.

A merry man was he, I wot,

The night he made the lay, Returning from the bloody spot,

Where God had judged the day.

THE NOBLE MORINGER.

I. O, WILL you hear a knightly tale of old Bohemian day, It was the noble Moringer in wedlock bed he lay; He halsed and kiss'd his dearest dame, that was as

sweet as May, And said, “ Now, lady of my heart, attend the words

I say.

II. “ 'Tis I have vow'd a pilgrimage unto a distant shrine, And I must seek Saint Thomas-land, and leave the

land that's mine ; Here shalt thou dwell the while in state, so thou wilt

pledge thy fay, That thou for my return wilt wait seven twelvemonths and a day.".

III. Then out and spoke that Lady bright, sore troubled in

her cheer, “ Now tell me true, thou noble knight, what order

takest thou here; And who shall lead thy vassal band, and hold thy

lordly sway, And be thy lady's guardian true when thou art far

away?"

IV. Out spoke the noble Moringer, “Of that have thou no

care, There's many a valiant gentleman of me holds living

fair; The trustiest shall rule my land, my vassals and my

state, And be a guardian tried and true to thee, my lovely

mate.

V. “ As Christian-man, I needs must keep the vow which

I have plight, When I am far in foreign land, remember thy true

knight; And cease, my dearest dame, to grieve, for vain were

sorrow now, But grant thy Moringer his leave, since God bath

heard his vow.”

VI. It was the noble Moringer from bed he made him

boune, And met him there his Chamberlain, with ewer and

with gown:

He flung the mantle on his back, 'twas furr'd with

miniver, He dipp'd his hand in water cold, and bathed his fore

head fair.

VII. “Now hear,” he said, “Sir Chamberlain, true vassal

art thou mine, And such the trust that I repose in that proved worth

of thine,

For seven years shalt thou rule my towers, and lead

my vassal train, And pledge thee for my Lady's faith till I return

again.”

VIII. The Chamberlain was blunt and true, and sturdily said

he, “ Abide, my lord, and rule your own, and take this

rede from me; That woman's faith's a brittle trust-Seven twelve

months didst thou say? I'll pledge me for no lady's truth beyond the seventh

fair day."

IX.

The noble Baron turn'd him round, his heart was full

of care,

His gallant Esquire stood him nigh, he was Marstet

ten's heir, To whom he spoke right anxiously, “ Thou trusty

squire to me, Wilt thou receive this weighty trust when I am o'er

the sea ?

X.

“ To watch and ward my castle strong, and to protect

my land,

And to the hunting or the host to lead my vassal band; And pledge thee for my Lady's faith, till seven long

years are gone, And guard her as Our Lady dear was guarded by Saint

John.”
Voi. I.27

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XI. Marstetten's heir was kind and true, but fiery, hot, and

young, And readily he answer made with too presumptuous

tongue; “My noble lord, cast care away, and on your journey

wend, And trust this charge to me until your pilgrimage have end.

XII. Rely upon my plighted faith, which shall be truly

tried, To guard your lands, and ward your towers, and with

your vassals ride; And for your lovely Lady's faith, so virtuous and so

dear, I'll gage my head it knows no change, be absent thirty year.”

XIII. The noble Moringer took cheer when thus he heard

him speak, And doubt forsook his troubled brow, and sorrow left

his cheek; A long adieu he bids to all-hoist topsails, and away, And wanders in Saint Thomas-land seven twelvemonths

and a day.

XIV. It was the noble Moringer within an orchard slept, When on the Baron's slumbering sense a boding vision

crept; And whisper'd in his ear a voice, “ 'Tis time, Sir

Knight, to wake,
Thy lady and thy heritage another master take.

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