Part 26 (1/2)

_YE LAYE OF YE WOODPECKORE_

_Picus Erythrocephalus_:

O whither goest thou, pale student Within the wood so fur?

Art on the chokesome cherry bent?

Dost seek the chestnut burr?

_Pale Student_:

O it is not for the mellow chestnut That I so far am come, Nor yet for puckery cherries, but For Cypripedium.

A blossom hangs the choke-cherry And eke the chestnut burr, And thou a silly fowl must be, Thou red-head wood-p.e.c.k.e.re.

_Picas Erythrocephalus_:

Turn back, turn back, thou pale student, Nor in the forest go; There lurks beneath his bosky tent The deadly mosquito,

And there the wooden-chuck doth tread, And from the oak-tree's top The red, red squirrels on thy head The frequent acorn drop.

_Pale Student_:

The wooden-chuck is next of kin Unto the wood-p.e.c.k.e.re: I fear not thine ill-boding din, And why should I fear her?

What though a score of acorns drop And squirrels' fur be red!

'Tis not so ruddy as thy top-- So scarlet as thy head.

O rarely blooms the Cypripe- dium upon its stalk; And like a torch it s.h.i.+nes to me Adown the dark wood-walk.

O joy to pluck it from the ground, To view the purple sac, To touch the sessile stigma's round-- And shall I then turn back?

_Picus Erytbrocephalus_:

O black and s.h.i.+ning is the log That feeds the sumptuous weed, Nor stone is found nor bedded log Where foot may well proceed.

Midmost it glimmers in the mire Like Jack o' Lanthorn's spark, Lighting, with phosph.o.r.escent fire, The green umbrageous dark.

There while thy thirsty glances drink The fair and baneful plant, Thy shoon within the ooze shall sink And eke thine either pant.

_Pale Student_:

Give o'er, give o'er, thou wood-peckore; The bark upon the tree, Thou, at thy will, mayst peck and bore But peck and bore not me.

Full two long hours I've searched about And 't would in sooth be rum, If I should now go back without The Cypripedium.

_Picus Erythrocephalus_:

Farewell! Farewell! But this I tell To thee, thou pale student, Ere dews have fell, thou'lt rue it well That woodward thou didst went:

Then whilst thou blows the drooping nose And wip'st the pensive eye-- There where the sad _symplocarpus foetidus_ grows, Then think--O think of I!

Loud flouted there that student wight Solche warnynge for to hear; ”I scorn, old hen, thy threats of might, And eke thine ill grammere.”

”Go peck the lice (or green or red) That swarm the ba.s.s-wood tree, But wag no more thine addled head Nor clack thy tongue at me.”

The wood-peck turned to whet her beak, The student heard her drum, As through the wood he went to seek The Cypripedium.