nd with signs square and hookt,
With the lord of each house, or the lady,
The table he filled,
Like a clerk 'ith' stars skilled,--
And, striking, cried "Presto! be ready!--

"A jug of spiced wine
'S in the box,--I divine!
Ask thy wife for the key, and unlock it!--
Nay, stop!" the lad said;
"We shall want meat and bread;"
And the chalk took again from his pocket.

O the lad he looked wise,
And, in scholarly guise,
Completed his horary question:--
"A brace of roast ducks
Thou wilt find in the box,
With the wine--sure as I am a Christian!--

"And a white wheaten loaf;--
Quick! proceed to the proof!"--
Cried the beggar,--while Grist stood stark staring;--
Though the lad's weasel eyes
Shone so wondrously wise,
That to doubt him seemed sin over-daring!

O the Miller's wife, Joan,
Turning pale, 'gan to groan;
But the Miller, arousing his spirits,
Said, "Hand me the key,
And our luck we will see--
A faint heart no fortune inherits."

But,--Gramercy!--his looks--
When he opened the box,
And at what he saw in it stood wondering!
How his sturdy arm shook,
While the wine-jug he took,
And feared he would break it with blundering!

Faith and troth! at the last,
On the table Grist placed
The wine and the ducks--hot and smoking!
Yet he felt grievous shy
His stomach to try
With cates of a wizard's own cooking!

But, with hunger grown fell,
The lad sped so well,
That Grist was soon tempted to join in;
While Joan sat apart,
And looked sad at heart,
And some fearful mishap seemed divining!

O the lad chopped away,
And smiling so gay,
Told stories to make his host merry:--
How the Moon kittened stars,--
And how Venus loved Mars,
And often went to see him in a wherry!

O the Miller he laughed,
And the liquor he quaffed;
But the beggar new marvels was hatching:--
Quoth he "I'm a clerk,
And I swear, by saint Mark,
That the Devil from hell I'll be fetching!"--

O the wife she looked scared,
And wildly Grist stared,
And cried, "Nay, my lad, nay,--thou'rt not able!"--
But the lad plied his chalk,
And muttered strange talk--
Till Grist drew his stool from the table!

Then the lad quenched the rush,
And cried, "Bring a gorse-bush,
And under the caldron now kindle!"--
But the Miller cri