"For fasting folk!" With that he laughed, And so, across the porphyry floor, His hand upon his dagger-haft, Strode, and of these was seen no more. Nor, of a truth, much marvelled they At those his words, since gear and store Oft dower shrunk souls. But, on a day, While yet again throughout the square, The buyers in their noisy way, Chaffered around the basket ware, It chanced (I but the tale reveal, Nor true nor false therein declare)-- It chanced that when the priest would kneel Before the taper's flickering flame, Sudden a little tremulous peal From out the Virgin's altar came. And they that heard must fain recall The Umbrian, and the words of shame Spoke in his pride, and therewithal Came news how, at that very date And hour of time was fixed his fall, Who, of the Duke, was banned the State, And all his goods, and lands as well, To Holy Church were confiscate. Such is the tale the Frati tell. A TALE OF POLYPHEME. "There's nothing new"--Not that I go so far As he who also said "There's nothing true," Since, on the contrary, I hold there are Surviving still a verity or two; But, as to novelty, in my conviction, There's nothing new,--especially in fiction. Hence, at the outset, I make no apology, If this _my_ story is as old as Time, Being, indeed, that idyll of mythology,-- The Cyclops' love,--which, somewhat varied, I'm To tell once more, the adverse Muse permitting, In easy rhyme, and phrases neatly fitting. "Once on a time"--there's nothing new, I said-- It may be fifty years ago or more, Beside a lonely posting-road that led Seaward from Town, there used to stand of yore, With low-built bar and old bow-window shady, An ancient Inn, the "Dragon and the Lady." Say that by chance, wayfaring Reader mine, You cast a shoe, and at this dusty Dragon, Where beast and man were equal on the sign, Inquired at once for Blacksmith and for flagon: The landlord showed you, while you drank your hops, A road-side break beyond the straggling shops. And so directed, thereupon you led Your halting roadster to a kind of pass, This you descended with a crumbling tread, And found the sea beneath you like a glass; And soon, beside a building partly walled-- Half hut, half cave--you raised your voice and called. Then a dog growled; and straightway there began Tumult within--for, bleating with affright, A goat burst out, escaping from the can; And, following close, rose slowly into sight-- Blind of one eye, and black with toil and tan-- An uncouth, limping, heavy-shouldered man.