Mr. Falconer. There is a beauty and an appeal to the heart in ballads which will never lose its effect except on those with whom the pretence of fashion overpowers the feeling of Nature.{1}
1 Braham said something like this to a Parliamentary
Committee on Theatres, in 1832.
Miss Ilex. It is strange, however, what influence that pretence has, in overpowering all natural feelings, not in music alone.
'Is it not curious,' thought the doctor, 'that there is only one old woman in the room, and that my young friend should have selected her for the object of his especial attention?'
But a few simple notes struck on the ear of his young friend, who rose from the sofa and approached the singer. The doctor took his place to cut off his retreat.
Miss Gryll, who, though a proficient in all music, was particularly partial to ballads, had just begun to sing one.
THE DAPPLED PALFREY{1}
1 Founded on Le Vair Palefroi: among the Fabliaux published
by Barbazan.
'My traitorous uncle has wooed for himself:
Her father has sold her for land and for pelf:
My steed, for whose equal the world they might search,
In mockery they borrow to bear her to church.
'Oh! there is one path through the forest so green,
Where thou and I only, my palfrey, have been:
We traversed it oft, when I rode to her bower
To tell my love tale through the rift of the tower.
'Thou know'st not my words, but thy instinct is good:
By the road to the church lies the path through the wood:
Thy instinct is good, and her love is as true:
Thou wilt see thy way homeward: dear palfrey, adieu.'
They feasted full late and full early they rose,
And church-ward they rode more than half in a doze:
The steed in an instant broke off from the throng,
And pierced the green path, which he bounded along.
In vain was pursuit, though some followed pell-mell:
Through bramble and thicket they floundered and fell.
On the backs of their coursers some dozed as before,
And missed not the bride till they reached the church door.
The knight from his keep on the forest-bound gazed:
The drawbridge was down, the portcullis was raised:
And true to his hope came the palfrey amain,
With his only loved lady, who checked not the rein.
The drawbridge went up: the portcullis went down;
The chaplain was ready with bell, book, and gown:
The wreck of the bride-train arrived at the gate,
The bride showed the ring, and they muttered 'Too late!'
'Not too late for a feast, though too late for a fray;
What's done can't be undone: make peace while you may':
So spake the young knight, and the old ones complied;
And quaffed a deep health to the bridegroom and bride.