Page:Andromeda, and other poems - Kingsley (1858).djvu/171

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THE RED KING.
159
For mitre and pall thou hast y-sold,False knight to Christ, for gain and gold;And for this thy forest were digged down all,Steading and hamlet and churches tall;And Christes poor were ousten forth,To beg their bread from south to north.So tarry at home, and fast and pray,Lest fiends hunt thee in the judgment-day.'
 The monk he vanished where he stood;King William sterte up wroth and wood;Quod he, 'Fools' wits will jump together;The Hampshire ale and the thunder weatherHave turned the brains for us both, I think;And monks are curst when they fall to drink.A lothly sweven I dreamt last night,How there hoved anigh me a griesly knight,Did smite me down to the pit of hell;I shrieked and woke, so fast I fell.
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