Part 6 (2/2)

And when the jug of ale was emptied quite, To bed, likewise, the daughter went anon: To bed goes Allen; with him also John.

All's said: they need no drugs from poppies pale, This Miller hath so wisely bibbed of ale; But as an horse he snorteth in his sleep, And blurteth secrets which awake he'd keep.

His wife a burden bare him, and full strong: Men might their routing hear a good furlong.

The daughter routeth else, par compagnie.

Allen, the clerk, that heard this melody, Now poketh John, and said, ”Why sleepest thou?

Heardest thou ever sic a song ere now?

Lo, what a serenade's among them all!

A wild-fire red upon their bodies fall!

Wha ever listened to sae strange a thing?

The flower of evil shall their ending bring.

This whole night there to me betides no rest.

But, courage yet, all shall be for the best; For, John,” said he, ”as I may ever thrive, To pipe a merrier serenade I'll strive In the dark pa.s.sage somewhere near to us; For, John, there is a law which sayeth thus, - That if a man in one point be aggrieved, Right in another he shall be relieved: Our corn is stolen--sad yet sooth to say - And we have had an evil bout to-day; But since the Miller no amends will make, Against our loss we should some payment take.

His sonsie daughter will I seek to win, And get our meal back--de'il reward his sin!

By hallow-ma.s.s it shall no otherwise be!”

But John replied, ”Allen, well counsel thee: The Miller is a perilous man,” he said, ”And if he wake and start up from his bed, He may do both of us a villainy.”

”Nay,” Allen said, ”I count him not a flie!”

And up he rose, and crept along the floor Into the pa.s.sage humming with their snore: As narrow was it as a drum or tub.

And like a beetle doth he grope and grub, Feeling his way with darkness in his hands, Till at the pa.s.sage-end he stooping stands.

John lieth still, and not far off, I trow, And to himself he maketh ruth and woe.

”Alas,” quoth he, ”this is a wicked j.a.pe!

Now may I say that I am but an ape.

Allen may somewhat quit him for his wrong: Already can I hear his plaint and song; So shall his 'venture happily be sped, While like a rubbish-sack I lie in bed; And when this j.a.pe is told another day, I shall be called a fool, or a c.o.kenay!

I will adventure somewhat, too, in faith: 'Weak heart, worse fortune,' as the proverb saith.”

And up he rose at once, and softly went Unto the cradle, as 'twas his intent, And to his bed's foot bare it, with the brat.

The wife her routing ceased soon after that, And woke, and left her bed; for she was pained With nightmare dreams of skies that madly rained.

Eastern astrologers and clerks, I wis, In time of Apis tell of storms like this.

Awhile she stayed, and waxeth calm in mind; Returning then, no cradle doth she find, And gropeth here and there--but she found none.

”Alas,” quoth she, ”I had almost misgone!

I well-nigh stumbled on the clerks a-bed: Eh benedicite! but I am safely sped.

And on she went, till she the cradle found, While through the dark still groping with her hand.

Meantime was heard the beating of a wing, And then the third c.o.c.k of the morn 'gan sing.

Allen stole back, and thought, ”Ere that it dawn I will creep in by John that lieth forlorn.”

He found the cradle in his hand, anon.

”Gude Lord!” thought Allen, ”all wrong have I gone!

My head is dizzy with the ale last night, And eke my piping, that I go not right.

Wrong am I, by the cradle well I know: Here lieth Simkin, and his wife also.”

And, scrambling forthright on, he made his way Unto the bed where Simkin snoring lay!

He thought to nestle by his fellow John, And by the Miller in he crept, anon, And caught him by the neck, and 'gan to shake, And said, ”Thou John! thou swine's head dull, awake!

Wake, by the ma.s.s! and hear a n.o.ble game, For, by St. Andrew! to thy ruth and shame, I have been trolling roundelays this night, And won the Miller's daughter's heart outright, Who hath me told where hidden is our meal: All this--and more--and how they always steal; While thou hast as a coward lain aghast!”

”Thou slanderous ribald!” quoth the Miller, ”hast?

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