And that the forests sure he would

Devour up by degrees:

For houses and churches were to him geese and

turkies;

He ate all and left none behind,

But some stones, dear Jack, that he could not crack, Which on the hills you will find.

Hard by a furious knight there dwelt ;
Men, women, girls, and boys,
Sighing and sobbing, came to his lodging,
And made a hideous noise.

O save us all, More of More-hall,

Thou peerless knight of these woods;

Do but slay this dragon, who won't leave us a rag on, We'll give thee all our goods.

This being done, he did engage
To hew the dragon down;
But first he went new armour to
Bespeak at Sheffield town;

With spikes all about, not within but without,

Of steel so sharp and strong,

Both behind and before, arms, legs, and all o'er, Some five or six inches long.

Had you but seen him in this dress,
How fierce he look'd, and how big,
You would have thought him for to be
Some Egyptian porcupig:

He frighted all, cats, dogs, and all,

Each cow, each horse, and each hog:
For fear they did flee, for they took him to be
Some strange, outlandish hedge-hog.

To see this fight all people then

Got up on trees and houses,

On churches some, and chimneys too;
But these put on their trousers,

Not to spoil their hose. As soon as he rose,
To make him strong and mighty,

He drank, by the tale, six pots of ale
And a quart of aqua-vitæ.

It is not strength that always wins,
For wit doth strength excel;

Which made our cunning champion

Creep down into a well,

Where he did think this dragon would drink,

And so he did in truth;

And as he stoop'd low, he rose up and cried, boh. And kick'd him in the mouth.

Oh, quoth the dragon with a deep sigh,
And turn'd six times together,
Sobbing and tearing, cursing and swearing

Out of his throat of leather:

More of More-hall, O thou rascal,

Would I had seen thee never;

With the thing at thy foot thou hast prick'd my throat,

And I'm quite undone for ever.

Murder, murder, the dragon cried,

Alack, alack, for grief;

Had you but miss'd that place, you could

Have done me no mischief.

Then his head he shaked, trembled and quaked,

And down he laid and cried ;

First on one knee, then on back tumbled he;
So groan'd, and kick'd, and died.

Old Ballad

CXLVII

THE UNGRATEFUL CUPID

At dead of night, when mortals lose
Their various cares in soft repose,
I heard a knocking at my door :
'Who's that,' said I, 'at this late hour
Disturbs my rest?' It sobb'd and cried,
And thus in mournful tone replied,
'A poor, unhappy child am I,
That's come to beg your charity;
Pray, let me in. You need not fear;
I mean no harm, I vow and swear;
But, wet and cold, crave shelter here;
Betray'd by night, and led astray,
I've lost, alas! I've lost my way.'
Moved with this little tale of fate,
I took a lamp, and oped the gate!
When, see! a naked boy before
The threshold; at his back he wore
A pair of wings, and by his side
A crooked bow and quiver tied.
'My pretty angel! come,' said I,
'Come to the fire, and do not cry.'
I stroked his neck and shoulders bare,
And squeez'd the water from his hair;

Then chafed his little hands in mine,
And cheer'd him with a draught of wine.
Recover'd thus, says he, 'I'd know,
Whether the rain has spoilt my bow;
Let's try'-then shot me with a dart.
The venom throbb'd, did ache and smart,
As if a bee had stung my heart.

'Are these your thanks, ungrateful child,
Are these your thanks?' The impostor smiled.
Farewell, my loving host,' says he,

All's well; my bow's unhurt, I see;

But what a wretch I've made of thee!'

7. Hughes

CXLVIII

THE KING OF THE CROCODILES

Now, woman, why without your veil ?
And wherefore do you look so pale?
And, woman, why do you groan so sadly,
And wherefore beat your bosom madly?'

Oh, I have lost my darling boy, In whom my soul had all its joy;

And I for sorrow have torn my veil,

And sorrow hath made my very heart pale.

'Oh, I have lost my darling child,
And that's the loss that makes me wild ;
He stoop'd by the river down to drink,
And there was a Crocodile by the brink.

'He did not venture in to swim,

He only stoop'd to drink at the brim ;
But under the reeds the Crocodile lay,
And struck with his tail and swept him away.

* Now take me in your boat, I pray,
For down the river lies my way,
And me to the Reed Island bring,
For I will go to the Crocodile King.

'He reigns not now in Crocodilople,
Proud as the Turk at Constantinople;
No ruins of his great city remain ;
The Island of Reeds is his whole domain.

"Like a dervise there he passes his days,
Turns up his eyes, and fasts and prays ;
And being grown pious and meek and mild,
He now never eats man, woman, or child.

'The King of the Crocodiles never does wrong, He has no tail so stiff and strong,

He has no tail to strike and slay,

But he has ears to hear what I say.

'And to the King I will complain
How my poor child was wickedly slain ;
The King of the Crocodiles he is good,
And I shall have the murderer's blood.'

The man replied, 'No, woman, no;
To the Island of Reeds I will not go;
I would not for any worldly thing
See the face of the Crocodile King.'