But the virgin was, doubtless, more righteous than I. And now for my welcome, four, five, or six lasses, With as many crystalline liberal glasses, Did all importune me to drink of the water Of Saint Winifreda, good Thewith's fair daughter. A while I was doubtful, and stood in a muse, Not knowing, amidst all that choice, where to choose. Till a pair of black eyes, darting full in my sight, From the rest o' th' fair maidens did carry me quite; I took the glass from her, and whip, off it went, I half doubt I fancied a health to the saint: But he was a great villain committed the slaughter, For Saint Winifred made most delicate water. I slipped a hard shilling into her soft hand, Which had like to have made me the place have profaned; And giving two more to the poor that were there, Did, sharp as a hawk, to my quarters repair. My dinner was ready, and to it I fell, I never ate better meat, that I can tell; When having half dined, there comes in my host, A catholic good, and a rare drunken toast; This man, by his drinking, inflamed the scot, And told me strange stories, which I have forgot; But this I remember, 'twas much on's own life, And one thing, that he had converted his wife. But now my guide told me, it time was to go, For that to our beds we must both ride and row; Wherefore calling to pay, and having accounted, I soon was down-stairs, and as suddenly mounted: On then we travelled, our guide still before, Sometimes on three legs, and sometimes on four, Coasting the sea, and over hills crawling, Sometimes on all four, for fear we should fall in; For underneath Neptune lay skulking to watch us, And, had we but slipped once, was ready to catch us. Thus in places of danger taking more heed, And in safer travelling mending our speed: Redland Castle and Abergoney we past, And o'er against Connoway came at the last: Just over against a castle there stood, O' th' right hand the town, and o' th' left hand a wood; 'Twixt the wood and the castle they see at high water The storm, the place makes it a dangerous matter; And besides, upon such a steep rock it is founded, As would break a man's neck, should he'scape being drowned: Perhaps though in time one may make them to yield, But 'tis prettiest Cob-castle e'er I beheld. The sun now was going t' unharness his steeds, When the ferry-boat brasking her sides 'gainst the weeds, Came in as good time as good time could be, To give us a cast o'er an arm of the sea; And bestowing our horses before and abaft, O'er god Neptune's wide cod-piece gave us a waft; Where scurvily landing at foot of the fort, Within very few paces we entered the port, Where another King's Head invited me down, For indeed I have ever been true to the crown. DR HENRY MORE.