sweeter than the milk of
Human Kindness. I'll not sing to give thee an opportunity to outnumber
me in thy cups."

And he filled and instantly emptied another sound bumper of the
Malvoisie, lurching slightly as he did so. "Health!" he added,
preparing to swallow the next.

"A murrain on such pagan thirst!" exclaimed he who had been toasted,
snatching the cup away. "Art thou altogether unslakable? Is thy belly
a lime-kiln? Nay, shalt taste not a single drop more, Hubert, till we
have a stave. Come, tune up, man!"

"Give me but leave to hold the empty vessel, then," the singer
pleaded, falling on one knee in mock supplication.

"Accorded, thou sot!" laughed the other. "Carol away, now!"

They fell into silence, each replenishing his drinking-horn. The snow
beat soft against the window, and from outside, far above them,
sounded the melancholy note of the bell ringing in the hour for
meditation.

So Hubert began:

When the sable veil of night
Over hill and glen is spread,
The yeoman bolts his door in fright,
And he quakes within his bed.
Far away on his ear
There strikes a sound of dread:
Something comes! it is here!
It is passed with awful tread.
There's a flash of unholy flame;
There is smoke hangs hot in the air:
'Twas the Dragon of Wantley came:
Beware of him, beware!

But we beside the fire
Sit close to the steaming bowl;
We pile the logs up higher,
And loud our voices roll.

When the yeoman wakes at dawn
To begin his round of toil,
His garner's bare, his sheep are gone,
And the Dragon holds the spoil.
All day long through the earth
That yeoman makes his moan;
All day long there is mirth
Behind these walls of stone.
For we are the Lords of Ease,
The gaolers of carking Care,
The Guild of Go-as-you-Please!
Beware of us, beware!

So we beside the fire
Sit down to the steaming bowl;
We pile the logs up higher,
And loud our voices roll.

The roar of twenty lusty throats and the clatter of cups banging on
the table rendered the words of the chorus entirely inaudible.

"Here's Malvoisie for thee, Hubert," said one of the company, dipping
into the rundlet. But his hand struck against the dry bottom. They had
finished four gallons since breakfast, and it was scarcely eleven gone
on the clock!