XXII.

Young Selby, at the fair hall-board, Carved to his uncle and that lord, And reverently took up the word. “Kind uncle, woe were we each one, If harm should hap to brother John. He is a man of mirthful speech, Can many a game and gambol teach; Full well at tables can he play, And sweep at bowls the stake away. None can a lustier carol bawl; The needfullest among us all, When time hangs heavy in the hall, And snow comes thick at Christmas-tide, And we can neither hunt, nor ride A foray on the Scottish side. The vowed revenge of Bughtrig rude, May end in worse than loss of hood. Let Friar John, in safety, still In chimney-corner snore his fill, Roast hissing crabs, or flagons swill: Last night to Norham there came one, Will better guide Lord Marmion.” “Nephew,” quoth Heron, “by my fay, Well hast thou spoke; say forth thy say.”