"
Then Ranulph arose and glancing round upon the fierce company, from the
noose at his feet to Jocelyn's scarred face, he drew a great breath; quoth
he:
"Sir Fool, since 'tis thy will fain would I give thee song blithe and
joyful since joy is in my heart, but alack, though my songs begin in merry
vein they do grow mournful anon; howbeit, for thy joy now will I sing my
cheeriest;" whereupon Ranulph brake into song thus:
"I am forsooth a merry soul,
Hey deny down, ho ho!
I love a merry song to troll,
I love to quaff a cheery bowl,
And yet thinks I, alas!
Such things too soon do pass,
And proudest flesh is grass.
Alack-a-day and woe,
Alack it should be so!
"A goodly lover I might be,
Merrily, ho ho!
But pretty maids in terror flee,
When this my hangman's head they see.
But woe it is, thinks I,
All fair, sweet dames must die,
And pale, sad corpses lie.
Alack-a-day and woe,
Alack it should be so!
"Fairest beauty is but dust,
Shining armour soon will rust,
All good things soon perish must,
Look around, thinks I, and see
All that, one day, dead must be,
King and slave and you and me.
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