II.

But the wind and the rain they threaten'd in vain ;

For she knew, to be healthy, and wealthy, and wise,

Was early to bed and early to rise,

Though never so foul the day.

III.

O foul was the day, and dreary the way;
St. Swithin the good woman shield!
For she quitted her bower in an evil hour

To drive her geese afield.

IV.

To rival this flock, howe'er they might mock,

Was never a wight could aspire;

The Geese of Dame Alice bred envy and malice,
Through many a bordering shire.

V.

No wonder she eyed with delight and with pride

Their plumes of glossy grey;

And she counted them o'er, and she counted a score,

And thus to herself 'gan say:

VI.

"A score of grey geese at a groat* apiece
Makes six and eight-pence clear;

Add a groat, 'tis enow to truck for a cow,

And I warrant we'll make good cheer.

VII.

may

But ah! welladay! no mortal en say,

What fate and fortune ordain;

mischance had

Or Alice, I ween, had her less foreseen,

Where most she look'd for gain.

for her trise is fort

She tripp'd unawares as she hurried down stairs, br

And three was her kirtle torn.

Not read, the dire

work with her brife & for

We are told that at an early period of our history a Goose was sold for 3d. and a cow for 7s. The superiority of Dame Alice's Geese in their pre-existent state, to judge of them by their present size, must plead her excuse for estimating them at a penny above the market price.

e falts frawd the floor, the Horse shoe at the door Took fright. and the tripped unawares, as she hurried down stairs And thrice was her kirtle torn

on a Friday morn :

X.

And thrice by the way went the Gander astray,

Ere she reach'd the foot of the hill;

And the Raven's croak from a neighbouring oak,

Proclaim'd approaching ill.

XI

And now, and O now had she climb'd the steep brow,

To batten her flock on the common,

When full in her path, to work her scath,

She met with a weird woman.

XII

This Hag she was foul both in body and soul,

All wild and tatter'd in trim;

And pale was the sheen of her age-wither'd een;

Was never a Witch so grim!

XIII

And "Give me," quoth she, " of thy fair poultry,
Or dear shalt thou rue this day."

So hoarse was the note of the Beldam's throat,

That the Geese they hiss'd with dismay.

XIV.

But the dame she was stout, and could fleer and could flout, "Gramercy! good gossip," she cried;

"Would ye taste of my fry, ye must barter or buy,

Though weal or woe betide.

XV.

" "Twere pity in sooth yad but a tooth,
Ye should lack for a gibiet to chew:
Belike of the claw, and the rump, and the maw,

A Hell-broth ye mean to brew."

XVI

O sour look'd the Hag, and thrice did she wag

Her hoar head scatter'd with snow;

And her eye thro' the gloom of wrath and of rheum,

Like a comet, predicted woe.

XVII

And anon she began to curse and to ban

With loud and frantic din;

But the spell which she mutter'd, must never be utter'd,

For that were a deadly sin.

L

XVIII

Then sudden she soars in the whirlwind, and roars

To the deep-voic'd thunder amain ;

And the lightning's glare envelopes the air,

And shivers the rocks in twain!

XJX..

But Alice she lay, 'mid the wrack and the fray,
Entranc'd in a deathlike swoon,

Till the sheep were in fold, and the curfew toll'd,
Ere yet she thought 'twas noon.

XX.

And much did she muse at the cold evening dews,
That reflected the pale moon-beam ;

But more at the sight, that appear'd by its light;

And she counted it all a dream.

XXI

Oh! what is yon heap, that peers o'er the steep,

and

'Mid the furze of the hawthorn glen?

With trembling and fear the Dame she drew near,

And she knew her own Geese agen.