The Lake of Wine by Bernard Edward Joseph Capes - HTML preview

EPIGRAPH.

“So fares the unthrifty lord of Linne

Till all his gold is gone and spent:

And he maun sell his lands so broad,

His house and landes and all his rent.

. . . . . . .

Thus he hath sold his land so broad,

Both hill and holt, and moore and fenne,

All but a poore and lonesome lodge,

That stood far off in a lonely glenne.

For soe he to his father hight:

‘My sonne, when I am gonne,’ sayd hee,

‘Then thou wilt spend thy lande so broad,

And thou wilt spend thy gold so free:

But sweare me nowe upon the roode,

That lonesome lodge thou’lt never spend;

For when all the world doth frown on thee,

Thou there shalt find a faithful friend.’

. . . . . . .

Away then hyed the heire of Linne

O’er hill and holt, and moore and fenne,

Untill he came to the lonesome lodge,

That stood so lowe in a lonely glenne.

. . . . . . .

Then round his necke the corde he drewe,

And sprang aloft with his bodie:

When lo! the ceiling burst in twaine,

And to the ground came tumbling hee.

Astonyed lay the heire of Linne,

Ne knewe if he were live or dead:

At length he looked, and sawe a bille,

And in it a key of gold so redd.

He took the bill, and lookt it on,

Strait good comfort found he there:

Itt told him of a hole in the wall,

In which there stood three chests in-fere.

Two were full of the beaten golde,

The third was full of white monèy;

And over them in broad lettèrs

These words were written so plaine to see:

‘Once more, my sonne, I sette thee clere;

Amend thy life and follies past;

For but thou amend thee of thy life,

That rope must be thy end at last.’”