[First Printed in "Graphic Illustrator, p. 124.]
I cannot do better than introduce here "_A Legend of
Glastonbury_," made up, not from books, but from oral tradition
once very prevalent in and near Glastonbury, which had formerly
one of the richest Abbeys in England; the ruins are still
attractive.
Who hath not hir'd o' _Avalon?_
[Footnote: "The Isle of ancient Avelon."--Drayton.]
'Twar talked o' much an long agon,--
Tha wonders o' tha _Holy Thorn_,
Tha "wich, zoon âter Christ war born,
Here a planted war by _Arimathé_,
Thic Joseph that com'd auver sea,
An planted Kirstianity.
Thâ zâ that whun a landed vust,
(Zich plazen war in God's own trust)
A stuck iz staff into tha groun
An auver iz shoulder lookin roun,
Whatever mid iz lot bevâll,
A cried aloud "_Now, weary all_!"
Tha staff het budded an het grew,
An at Kirsmas bloom'd tha whol dâ droo.
An still het blooms at Kirsmas bright,
But best thâ zâ at dork midnight,
A pruf o' this nif pruf you will.
Iz voun in tha name o' _Weary-all-hill!_
Let tell _Pumparles_ or lazy _Brue_.
That what iz tauld iz vor sartin true!
["The story of the Holy Thorn was a long time credited by the
vulgar and credulous. There is a species of White Thorn which
blossoms about Christmas; it is well known to naturalists so as
to excite no surprise."]