To spend the daye with merry cheare, To ride, to runne, to rant, to roare, Soe fares the unthrifty lord of Linne His father had a keen stewàrde, And John o' the Scales was called hee: 10 15 20 Sayes, Welcome, welcome, lord of Linne, Iff thou wilt fell thy landes foe broad, My gold is gone, my money is spent ; My lande nowe take it unto thee: VOL. II. Then John he did him to record draw, The lande, I wis, was well worth three. He told him the gold upon the borde, He was right glad his land to winne: And now Ile be the lord of Linne. Thus he hath fold his land foe broad, All but a poore and lonesome lodge, For foe he to his father hight. My fonne, when I am gonne, fayd hee, But fweare me nowe upon the roode, That lonesome lodge thou'lt never spend; The heire of Linne is full of golde: And come with me, my friends, fayd hee, And he that spares, ne'er moté he thee. * i. e. earneft-money; from the French Denier à Dieu. At this day, when application is made to the Dean and Chapter of Carlisle to accept an exchange of the tenant under one of their leafes, a piece of filver is prefented by the new tenant, which is ftill called a GODS-PENNY. They They ranted, drank, and merry made, Till all his gold it waxed thinne; And then his friendes they flunk away; They left the unthrifty heire of Linne. He had never a penny left in his purse, And another it was white money. 60 Nowe well-aday, fayd the heire of Linne, 65 For when I was the lord of Linne, But many a truftye friend have I, And why fhold I feel dole or care? Ile borrow of them all by turnes, But one, I wis, was not at home; Another call'd him thriftless loone, And bade him sharpely wend his way. Now well-aday, fayd the heire of Linne, Ver. 63, 4, 5, &c. Sic MS, To beg my bread from door to door To worke my limbs I cannot frame. Now lle away to lonesome lodge, PART THE SECOND. 85 A WAY then hyed the heire of Linne O'er hill and holt, and moor and fenne, Untill he came to lonesome lodge, That stood fo lowe in a lonely glenne. He looked up, he looked downe, In hope fome comfort for to winne : But bare and lothly were the walles. Here's forry cheare, quo' the heire of Linne. The little windowe dim and darke Was hung with ivy, brere, and yewe ; No fhimmering funn here ever shone ; Ne halefome breeze here ever blew. 5 10 No No chair, ne table he mote spye, No chearful hearth, ne welcome bed, Nought fave a rope with renning noose, That dangling hung up o'er his head. And over it in broad letters, These words were written fo plain to fee: "Ah! graceleffe wretch, haft fpent thine all, "And brought thyfelfe to penurie? "All this my boding mind mifgave, Sorely fhent wi' this rebuke, Sorely fhent was the heire of Linne; His heart, I wis, was near to brast With guilt and forrowe, fhame and finne. Never a word fpake the heire of Linne, 15 20 25 Never a word he spake but three: "This is a trufty friend indeed, "And is right welcome unto mee." Then round his necke the corde he drewe, When lo! the ceiling burst in twaine, And to the ground came tumbling hee. K 3 30 35 Aftonyed |