And cold oblivion, midst the ruin laid, Folds her dank wing beneath the ivy shade. PALESTINE. A LAY OF ST. GENGULPHUS. "Non multò post, Gengulphus, in domo suâ dormiens, occisus est à quodam clerico qui cum uxore suâ adulterare solebat. Cujus corpus dum, in fereto, in sepulturam portaretur, multi infirmi de tactu sanati sunt." * * * * * "Cum hoc illius uxori referretur ab ancillâ sua, scilicet dominum suum, quam martyrem sanctum, miracula facere, irridens illa, et subsurrans, ait, 'Ita Gengulphus miracula facitat ut pulvinarium meum cantat,'" &c. &c. WOLFII MEMORAB. Gengulphus comes from the Holy Land, With his scrip, and his bottle, and sandal shoon, Full many a day hath he been away, Yet his lady deems him return'd full soon Full many a day hath he been away, Yet scarce had he crossed ayont the sea, Ere a spruce young spark of a Learned Clerk Had called on his Lady, and stopp'd to tea. This spruce young guest, so trimly drest, Stay'd with that Lady, her revels to crown; They laugh'd, and they ate and they drank of the best, And they turn'd the old castle quite upside down. They would walk in the park, that spruce young Clerk, With that frolicsome Lady so frank and free, Trying balls and plays, and all manner of ways, To get rid of what French people called _Ennui_. * * * * * Now the festive board with viands is stored, Savoury dishes be there, I ween, Rich puddings and big, and a barbecued pig, And oxtail soup in a China tureen. There's a flagon of ale as large as a pail-- When, cockle on hat, and staff in hand, While on nought they are thinking save eating and drinking, Gengulphus walks in from the Holy Land! "You must be pretty deep to catch weazels asleep," Says the proverb: that is "take the Fair unawares;" A maid o'er the banisters chancing to peep, Whispers, "Ma'am, here's Gengulphus a-coming up-stairs." Pig, pudding, and soup, the electrified group, With the flagon, pop under the sofa in haste, And contrive to deposit the Clerk in the closet, As the dish least of all to Gengulphus's taste. Then oh! what rapture, what joy was exprest, When "poor dear Gengulphus" at last appear'd! She kiss'd and she press'd "the dear man" to her breast, In spite of his great, long, frizzly beard. Such hugging and squeezing! 'twas almost unpleasing, A smile on her lip, and a tear in her eye;[11] She was so very glad, that she seem'd half mad, And did not know whether to laugh or to cry. Then she calls up the maid and the table-cloth's laid, And she sends for a pint of the best Brown Stout; On the fire, too, she pops some nice mutton-chops, And she mixes a stiff glass of "Cold Without."