Woodstock; or, the Cavalier. Вальтер Скотт

knight services, and armes;

      But that they came not in by swarmes

      To pay there.

      Night doth invite to bed again,

      The grand Commissioners were lain,

      But then the thing did heave amain,

      It busled,

      And with great clamor fil'd their eares,

      The noyse was doubled, and their feares;

      Nothing was standing but their haires,

      They nuzled.

      Oft were the blankets pul'd, the sheete

      Was closely twin'd betwixt their feete,

      It seems the spirit was discreete

      And civill.

      Which makes the poore Commissioners

      Feare they shall get but small arreares,

      And that there's yet for cavaliers

      One divell.

      They cast about what best to doe;

      Next day they would to wisemen goe,

      To neighb'ring towns some cours to know;

      For schollars

      Come not to Woodstock, as before,

      And Allen's dead as a nayle-doore,

      And so's old John (eclep'd the poore)

      His follower;

      Rake Oxford o're, there's not a man

      That rayse or lay a spirit can,

      Or use the circle, or the wand,

      Or conjure;

      Or can say (Boh!) unto a divell,

      Or to a goose that is uncivill,

      Nor where Keimbolton purg'd out evill,

      'Tis sin sure.

      There were two villages hard by,

      With teachers of presbytery,

      Who knew the house was hidiously

      Be-pestred;

      But 'lasse! their new divinity

      Is not so deep, or not so high;

      Their witts doe (as their meanes did) lie

      Sequestred;

      But Master Joffman was the wight

      Which was to exorcise the spright;

      Hee'll preach and pray you day and night

      At pleasure.

      And by that painfull gainfull trade,

      He hath himselfe full wealthy made;

      Great store of guilt he hath, 'tis said,

      And treasure.

      But no intreaty of his friends

      Could get him to the house of fiends,

      He came not over for such ends

      From Dutch-land,

      But worse divinity hee brought,

      And hath us reformation taught,

      And, with our money, he hath bought

      Him much land.

      Had the old parsons preached still,

      The div'l should nev'r have had his wil;

      But those that had or art or skill

      Are outed;

      And those to whom the pow'r was giv'n

      Of driving spirits, are out-driv'n;

      Their colledges dispos'd, and livings,

      To grout-heads.

      There was a justice who did boast,

      Hee had as great a gift almost,

      Who did desire him to accost

      This evill.

      But hee would not employ his gifts.

      But found out many sleights and shifts;

      Hee had no prayers, nor no snifts,

      For th' divell.

      Some other way they cast about,

      These brought him in, they throw not out;

      A woman, great with child, will do't;

      They got one.

      And she i' th' room that night must lie;

      But when the thing about did flie,

      And broke the windows furiously

      And hot one

      Of the contractors o're the head,

      Who lay securely in his bed,

      The woman, shee-affrighted, fled

      —

      And now they lay the cause on her.

      That e're that night the thing did stir,

      Because her selfe and grandfather

      Were Papists;

      They must be barnes-regenerate,

      (A Hans en Kelder of the state,

      Which was in reformation gatt,)

      They said, which

      Doth make the divell stand in awe,

      Pull in his hornes, his hoof, his claw;

      But having none, they did in draw

      —

      But in the night there was such worke,

      The spirit swaggered like a Turke;

      The bitch had spi'd where it did lurke,

      And howled

      In such a wofull manner that Their very hearts went pit a pat; * * * * * —

      The stately rooms, where kings once lay

      But the contractors show'd the way.

      But mark what now I tell you, pray,

      'Tis worth it.

      That book I told you of before,

      Wherein were tenants written store,

      A register for many more

      Not forth yet,

      That very book, as it did lie,

      Took of a flame, no mortall eye

      Seeing one jot of fire thereby,

      Or taper;

      For all the candles about flew,

      And those that burned, burned blew,

      Never kept soldiers such a doe

      Or vaper.

      The book thus burnt and none knew how

      The poore contractors made a vow

      To work no more; this spoil'd their plow

      In that place.

      Some other part o' th' house they'll find,

      To which the divell hath no mind,

      But hee, it seems, is not inclin'd

      With that grace;

      But other pranks it plaid elsewhere.

      An oake there was stood many a yeere,

      Of