Part 40 (2/2)
”They like not the thoughts of the gallows,” said Turpin to Peter. ”More fools they. A mere bugbear to frighten children, believe me; and never yet alarmed a brave man. The gallows, pshaw! One can but die once, and what signifies it how, so that it be over quickly. I think no more of the last leap into eternity than clearing a five-barred gate. A rope's end for it! So let us be merry, and make the most of our time, and that's true philosophy. I know you can throw off a rum chant,” added he, turning to Peter. ”I heard you sing last night at the hall. Troll us a stave, my antediluvian file, and, in the meantime, tip me a gage of fogus,[75] Jerry; and if that's a bowl of huckle-my-b.u.t.t[76] you are brewing, Sir William,” added he, addressing the knight of Malta, ”you may send me a jorum at your convenience.”
Jerry handed the highwayman a pipe, together with a tumbler of the beverage which the knight had prepared, which he p.r.o.nounced excellent; and while the huge bowl was pa.s.sed round to the company, a prelude of shawms announced that Peter was ready to break into song.
Accordingly, after the symphony was ended, accompanied at intervals by a single instrument, Peter began his melody, in a key so high, that the utmost exertions of the shawm-blower failed to approach its alt.i.tudes.
The burden of his minstrelsy was
THE MANDRAKE[77]
???? d? ?? ?a????s? ?e??, ?a??p?? d? t' ???sse??
??d??s? ?e ???t??s? ?e??, d? te p??ta d??a?ta?.
HOMERUS.
The mandrake grows 'neath the gallows-tree, And rank and green are its leaves to see; Green and rank, as the gra.s.s that waves Over the unctuous earth of graves; And though all around it lie bleak and bare, Freely the mandrake flourisheth there.
_Maranatha--Anathema!
Dread is the curse of mandragora!
Euthanasy!_
At the foot of the gibbet the mandrake springs; Just where the creaking carcase swings; Some have thought it engendered From the fat that drops from the bones of the dead; Some have thought it a human thing; But this is a vain imagining.
_Maranatha--Anathema!
Dread is the curse of mandragora!
Euthanasy!_
A charnel leaf doth the mandrake wear, A charnel fruit doth the mandrake bear; Yet none like the mandrake hath such great power, Such virtue resides not in herb or flower; Aconite, hemlock, or moonshade, I ween, None hath a poison so subtle and keen.
_Maranatha--Anathema!
Dread is the curse of mandragora!
Euthanasy!_
And whether the mandrake be create Flesh with the power incorporate, I know not; yet, if from the earth 'tis rent, Shrieks and groans from the root are sent; Shrieks and groans, and a sweat like gore Oozes and drops from the clammy core.
_Maranatha--Anathema!
Dread is the curse of mandragora!
Euthanasy!_
Whoso gathereth the mandrake shall surely die; Blood for blood is his destiny.
Some who have plucked it have died with groans, Like to the mandrake's expiring moans; Some have died raving, and some beside-- With penitent prayers--but _all_ have died.
_Jesu! save us by night and day!
From the terrible death of mandragora!
Euthanasy!_
”A queer chant that,” said Zoroaster, coughing loudly, in token of disapprobation.
”Not much to my taste,” quoth the knight of Malta. ”We like something more sprightly in Canterbury.”
”Nor to mine,” added Jerry; ”don't think it's likely to have an encore.
'Pon my soul, d.i.c.k, you must give us something yourself, or we shall never cry Euthanasy at the Triple Tree.”
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