rgiving than
mine. But here we are, debating, as thou didst intimate a moment ago,
more like two pattering monks than journeying like merry cavaliers.
For my part, the dissensions of Christendom weary me, and I prefer to
leave to the holy men vowed to the service of the altar, the labor of
unloosing the knots of controversy, rather than perplex my brains with
them. Come, Master Arundel, hast never a song wherewith to waken the
echoes of the virgin forest and shorten the toils of our way?"

"I esteem not myself a singer, though I can troll a stave or two,"
replied the young man. "But I fear that my minstrelsy would be rude
and uncouth to the cultivated ears of one who, like you, Sir
Christopher, hath listened to the lays of many lands, and so, refined
and perfected his taste."

"It is true," said the Knight, "that I have heard the songs of many
countries, warbled by beauty to the accompanying sounds of divers
instruments, from Spain to Persia, from the Andalusian guitar to the
Turkish lute. But fear me not. I am no supercilious critic. Thy
modesty hides merit. I will be bound now that thy performance will
exceed thy promise."

"But is there no danger of attracting wandering savages, and so being
taken prisoners, or shot with their arrows?"

"The danger of being treated as enemies is less, for what Indian would
suspect such of going singing through the woods?"

"Then here is my song," said Arundel, "but I shall look for a like
complaisance on thy part."

"Who loves the greenwood cool and sweet,
O! let him come with me!
No harsher sound his ears shall greet,
Than songs of birds so free;
No sight less fair his eyes shall view,
Than trees, and ferns, and flowers,
Sun, stars, the branches shimmering through,
To light the flying hours.

"Ambition hither cannot come,
Here Pomp is out of place,
And fawning Flattery finds no home
With Simper and Grimace,
But Nature, in her artless dress,
(A greenwood nymph is she,)
With eyes so wild and flowing tress,
And bare ungartered knee.

"Then come, O, come! O, come with me!
Forgot be toil and care;
O! come beneath the greenwood tree,
For happiness is there.
The sun shall shine with tempered ray,
The moonbeam soft, yet bright;
O, come! Joy beckons us away,
To revel in delight!"

"Good!" exclaimed the Knight. "Thy voice is as sweet as a sky-lark's,
and runs with marvellous cunning through the harmo