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He lighted the match of his bandelier[1],
And woefully scorched the hackbutteer[2].
It may be hardly thought, or said,
The mischief that the urchin made,
Till many of the castle guessed
That the young Baron was possessed!
And woefully scorched the hackbutteer[2].
It may be hardly thought, or said,
The mischief that the urchin made,
Till many of the castle guessed
That the young Baron was possessed!
XXII.
Well I ween the charm he held
The noble Ladye had soon dispelled;
But she was deeply busied then
To tend the wounded Deloraine.
Much she wondered to find him lie,
On the stone threshold, stretched along;
She thought some spirit of the sky
Had done the bold moss-trooper wrong;
Because, despite her precept dread,
Perchance he in the Book had read;
Well I ween the charm he held
The noble Ladye had soon dispelled;
But she was deeply busied then
To tend the wounded Deloraine.
Much she wondered to find him lie,
On the stone threshold, stretched along;
She thought some spirit of the sky
Had done the bold moss-trooper wrong;
Because, despite her precept dread,
Perchance he in the Book had read;
