"Now, but hear to the deceitful old rogue," said the poet: "All the books of black art in the world cannot accomplish that. In the name of Saint Barnabas, I say let them be separated!" "It wad be weel done," said Tam, "if ane durst;"--for he wanted to blow up the poet's wrath, for the sake of a little sport. "Durst!" said the poet, "durst!--If none other dare, I shall, in spite of all his hellish arts. Durst! that is a good one,--to be dursted with an old sackbut!" They did not hear what answer Delany made to the extraordinary information, as they took it, that, by learning the little black book, she was to be redeemed from death; for the fierce jealousy of the enamoured bard prevented them. But when they listened again so as to hear distinctly, the friar was still increasing in fervency. All that he said was in raptures of divine ecstacy; while his associates, who knew nothing, and cared as little about these things, understood it in another way. "For I say unto thee, if thou wilt suffer me to instil these truths into thee, thou shalt both blossom and bring forth fruit abundantly; yea, thou shalt shine as the stars in the firmament of heaven. Seest thou yon sun that walketh above the clouds in majesty and brightness? Beyond yon sun shall thine habitation be fixed; and the blue arch that encircles the regions of the air, which thou hast so often seen studded over with diamonds, shall be unto thee a pavement whereon thou shalt tread. All this and more shalt thou possess, if thou wilt learn and obey the things that are written in this book, where it is said by one that cannot err, 'Lo, I will be always with you, and my arms shall be underneath and around you, and when you are faint and weary I will hide you in my bosom.'" "For the blood that is in your body dare to attempt such a thing!" cried the enraged poet. "Down with hypocrisy and sensuality together! Hurray for the combat, and God defend the right!" So, crying as loud as he could yell, he pulled out his sword, and rode furiously up between Delany and the friar, shoving the latter rudely as he passed. The maiden's palfrey sprung away, but the friar's mule only leaned with all his might to the poet's steed as he pressed against him in passing; and feeling his prop give way, he leaned round in the same direction, till his tail was exactly where his head was before; and then, dreading some abhorred exertion, he set his feet asunder, and stood immovable. The poet drew up, and wheeled about, and seeing still the hinder parts of the friar and his beast, he cried, exultingly, "Ay, you are more ready to seduce an innocent and lovely maiden, than to answer for the crime! Vile lump of sin and hypocrisy! turn round and meet me face to face, that I may chastise thee for thy graceless attempt!"