SIE JOEAM A BURTON. 37 



1 Now nay, Father Abbot, I will do 



According to that my liege lord said ; 

 Sir Joram's behest I will cleave unto, 



No matter an he be alive or dead. 



" It is not so long, I wot, to bide, 



The time will be up in another year." 



" Thou speakest good sooth," the Abbot cried, 



" But I think ye mote just as weU tap that beer." 



Seven years and a day their course had run, 

 And vassals and vavasours, one and all, 



Were gather' d together around the tun, 

 Adown in the cellar of Burton Hall 



And there was the Abbot of Swigglesea, 



Each week had he come throughout all the year, 



And ever his word was, " Sweet ladye, 

 I think ye mote venture to tap that beer." 



They counted the minutes till twelve rung out ; 



Eight welcome, in sooth, was that sound to hear : 

 " Time 's up," cried the Abbot ; " now about, 

 And let us immediately tap that beer." 



" E'en so," quoth a Palmer clad in grey, 



Who thither had come with the holy freres. 



" How now ? " said the Abbot. " Ha ! heydey ! 

 Sir Malapert, give thyself none of thine airs." 



" Sir Malapert ? Nay," quoth the Palmer, " lo ! 

 Behold, Father Abbot; behold, good wife; " 

 And there, as he cast his gown him fro, 

 Stood Sir Joram a Burton, as large as life. 



" My death was a hoax, sweet Nell, to test 

 Thy troth, though I wist that it ne'er would fail, 



Yet wish'd I to prove thy faithful breast ; 

 And I 'm happy to find thou hast kept that ale. 



D 3 



