With regard to the Clerk, we are left in the dark As to what his fate was; but I can not imagine he Got off scot-free, though unnoticed it be Both by Ribadaneira and Jacques de Voragine:

For cut-throats, we're sure, can be never secure, And "History's Muse" still to prove it her pen holds, As you'll see, if you'll look in a rather scarce book, "God's Revenge against Murder," by one Mr. Reynolds.

MORAL.

Now, you grave married Pilgrims, who wander away, Like Ulysses of old (vide Homer and Naso), Don't lengthen your stay to three years and a day, And when you are coming home, just write and say so!

And you, learned Clerks, who're not given to roam, Stick close to your books, nor lose sight of decorum, Don't visit a house when the master's from home! Shun drinking,--and study the "Vilce Sanctorum!"

Above all, you gay ladies, who fancy neglect In your spouses, allow not your patience to fail; But remember Gengulphus's wife!--and reflect On the moral enforced by her terrible tale!

SIR RUPERT THE FEARLESS. A LEGEND OF GERMANY. R. HARRIS BARHAM

Sir Rupert the Fearless, a gallant young knight, Was equally ready to tipple or fight, Crack a crown, or a bottle, Cut sirloin, or throttle; In brief, or as Hume says, "to sum up the tottle," Unstain'd by dishonor, unsullied by fear, All his neighbors pronounced him a preux chevalier.

Despite these perfections, corporeal and mental, He had one slight defect, viz., a rather lean rental; Besides, 'tis own'd there are spots in the sun, So it must be confess'd that Sir Rupert had one; Being rather unthinking, He'd scarce sleep a wink in A night, but addict himself sadly to drinking; And what moralists say, Is as naughty--to play, To Rouge et Noir, Hazard, Short Whist, Ecarte; Till these, and a few less defensible fancies Brought the Knight to the end of his slender finances.

When at length through his boozing, And tenants refusing Their rents, swearing "tunes were so bad they were losing," His steward said, "O, sir, It's some time ago, sir, Since aught through my hands reach'd the baker or grocer, And the tradesmen in general are grown great complainers." Sir Rupert the brave thus address'd his retainers:

"My friends, since the stock Of my father's old hock Is out, with the Kurchwasser, Barsae, Moselle, And we're fairly reduced to the pump and the well, I presume to suggest, We shall all find it best For each to shake hands with his friends ere he goes, Mount his horse, if he has one, and--follow his nose; As to me, I opine, Left sans money or wine, My best way is to throw myself into the Rhine, Where pitying trav'lers may sigh, as they cross over, Though he lived a roue, yet he died a philosopher."

The Knight, having bow'd out his friends thus politely. Got into his skiff, the full moon shining brightly, By the light of whose beam, He soon spied on the stream A dame, whose complexion was fair as new cream, Pretty pink silken hose Cover'd ankles and toes, In other respects she was scanty of clothes; For, so says tradition, both written and oral, Her ONE garment was loop'd up with bunches of coral.