"And choked in thy vile tan-pit, for
scurvier song was never heard, par Dex!"
"Why 'tis heard, forsooth," said Jocelyn, "and might be heard a mile hence!
Chant on, brave Will."
The Tanner, nothing loth, wiped his mouth, clenched his fists and standing
square and rigid, continued:
"How gaily I a-tanning went,
No tanner blithe as I,
No tanner e'er so innocent,
Though here in chains I lie.
Ho derry down,
Hey derry down,
In grievous chains I lie.
"No more, alack, poor Will will tan,
Since Will will, all unwilling,
Though tanner he and proper man,
A gloomy grave be filling.
Hey derry down,
Ho derry down,
A gloomy grave be filling."
"Now out upon thee, Tanner!" sighed Ranulph. "Here's sad song, a song o'
graves, and therefore most unlovely, a song I--Saints and Angels!" he
gasped:
And pointed where Sir Pertinax did stand,
The Heart of Crystal shining in his hand.
"The Heart-in-Heart! The Crystal Heart!" cried he,
And crying thus, sank down on bended knee,
While jailers all and scurvy knaves, pell-mell,
Betook them to their marrow-bones as well;
Whereat Sir Pertinax oped wond'ring eyes,
And questioned him 'twixt anger and surprise.
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