thoughts that ill-became a palmer's brain, he bent his steps towards the nunnery of Godstowe. Near the close of the second day he entered the confines of Oxfordshire, and found himself, little to his satisfaction, in the vicinity of a country fair, with its attendant junketing, masquerade, and feats of jugglery and legerdemain. To avoid the crowd, he determined to seek lodging in a booth that stood a little apart from the main encampment. The weary monarch had stretched himself to rest, when the sound of uproarious mirth disturbed his slumbers, and a Welsh ballad-singer, whom he remembered to have seen in the service of Giraldus Cambrensis, the tutor of John, commenced in a voice of considerable power and pathos, the following song:-- When as King Henry ruled this land, The second of that name, Besides the queen, he dearly loved A fair and comely dame; Most peerless was her beauty found, Her favor and her face; A sweeter creature in this world Did never prince embrace. Her crisped locks like threads of gold Appeared to each man's sight, Her sparkling eyes like orient pearls Did cast a heavenly light; The blood within her crystal cheeks Did such a color drive, As if the lily and the rose For mastership did strive. Yea, Rosamond, fair Rosamond, Her name was called so, To whom dame Eleanor our queen Was known a deadly foe. The king therefore for her defence Against the furious queen, At Woodstock builded such a bower, The like was never seen. Most curiously that bower was built Of stone and timber strong, One hundred and fifty doors Did to this bower belong; And they so cunningly contrived With turnings round about, That none but with a clew of thread Could enter in or out. And for his love and lady's sake That was so fair and bright, The keeping of this bower he gave Unto a valiant knight. But Fortune, that doth often frown Where she before did smile, The king's delight, the lady's joy Full soon she did beguile. For why, the king's ungracious son Whom he did high advance, Against his father raised wars Within the realm of France. But yet before our comely king The English land forsook, Of Rosamond, his lady fair, His farewell thus he took. "My Rosamond, my only Rose That pleasest best mine eye, The fairest flower in all the world To feed my fantasy, The flower of my affected heart, Whose sweetness doth excel, My royal Rose, a thousand times I bid thee now farewell. "For I must leave my fairest flower, My sweetest Rose a space, And cross the seas to famous France, Proud rebels to abase. But yet my Rose, be sure thou shalt My coming shortly see, And in my heart, when hence I am, I'll bear my Rose with me."