X.

Ay, an' thy muther says thou wants to marry the lass, Cooms of a gentleman burn: an' we boäth on us thinks

tha an ass.

Woä then, proputty, wiltha? —an ass as near as mays

Break me a bit o' the esh for his 'eäd, lad, out o' the fence! Gentleman burn! what's gentleman burn? is it shillins

an' pence?

Proputty, proputty 's ivrything 'ere, an', Sammy, I'm

blest

If it is n't the saäme oop yonder, fur them as 'as it's the

best.

XII.

Tis'n them as 'as munny as breäks into 'ouses an' steäls, Them as 'as coäts to their backs an' taäkes their regular

meäls.

* Makes nothing.

The flies are as fierce as anything.

Noä, but it's them as niver knaws wheer a meäl's to

be 'ad.

Taäke my word for it, Sammy, the poor in a loomp is

bad.

XIII.

Them or thir feythers, tha sees, mun 'a beän a laäzy

lot,

Fur work mun 'a gone to the gittin' whiniver munny

was got.

Feyther 'ad ammost nowt; leästwaays 'is munny was 'id. But 'e tued an' moil'd 'issén deäd, an 'e died a good un,'e did.

XIV.

Loook thou theer wheer Wrigglesby beck comes out by

the 'ill!

Feyther run up to the farm, an' I runs up to the mill; An' I'll run up to the brig, an' that thou'll live to see ; And if thou marries a good un, I'll leave the land to thee.

XV.

Thim 's my noätions, Sammy, wheerby I means to stick ;

But if thou marries a bad un, I'll leave the land to

Dick.

Coom oop, proputty, proputty

saäy

that's what I 'ears 'im

Proputty, proputty, proputty canter an' canter awaäy.

THE VICTIM.

I.

A PLAGUE upon the people fell,
A famine after laid them low,

Then thorpe and byre arose in fire,

For on them brake the sudden foe;

So thick they died the people cried

"The Gods are moved against the land.”

The Priest in horror about his altar

To Thor and Odin lifted a hand:

"Help us from famine

And plague and strife!

What would you have of us?

Human life?

Were it our nearest,

Were it our dearest,

(Answer, O answer)

We give you his life."

II.

But still the foeman spoil'd and burn'd,

And cattle died, and deer in wood,

And bird in air, and fishes turn'd

And whiten'd all the rolling flood;

And dead men lay all over the way,

Or down in a furrow scathed with flame:

And ever and aye the Priesthood moan'd

Till at last it seem'd that an answer came:

"The King is happy

In child and wife;

Take you his dearest,

Give us a life."