Young Selby, at the fair hall-board, 365
Carved to his uncle and that lord,
And reverently took up the word.
'Kind uncle, woe were we each one,
If harm should hap to brother John.
He is a man of mirthful speech, 370
Can many a game and gambol teach;
Full well at tables can he play,
And sweep at bowls the stake away.
None can a lustier carol bawl,
The needfullest among us all, 375
When time hangs heavy in the hall,
And snow comes thick at Christmas tide,
And we can neither hunt, nor ride
A foray on the Scottish side.
The vow'd revenge of Bughtrig rude, 380
May end in worse than loss of hood.
Let Friar John, in safety, still
In chimney-corner snore his fill,
Roast hissing crabs, or flagons swill:
Last night, to Norham there came one, 385
Will better guide Lord Marmion.'--
'Nephew,' quoth Heron, 'by my fay,
Well hast thou spoke; say forth thy say,'--