XLIII. THAT OF YE LOVE-PHILTRE: AN OLD-ENGLISH LEGEND.

Sir Peter de Wynkin

He loved a fair mayde,

And he wooed ye fair mayde

For hys bride.

But ye ladye cried "no,"

With a toss of her head,

And Sir Wynkin

Disconsolate sighed.

"Now out! and alas!

And alack-a-day me!"

He sang him

In sorrowful tones,

"She loveth me not

Yet, beshrew me!" said he,

"There's a wizard I wot of

Called—Jones."

Caldweller Ap Jones,

Was a wizard of note,

And he dwelt in a cave

Hard at hand.

Love-philtres and potions

He sold for a groat,

To ye rich and ye poor

Of ye land.

Sir Wynkin, he sought

This same wizard straightway,

And he told him hys

Dolorous plight.

The wizard cried, "Ha!

If you'll do as I say,

Thys small matter

Can soon be set right."

"Thys potion—a love-philtre

Made extra strong—

To ye ladye, by you,

Must be given."

"Oddzooks!" quoth Sir Wynkin.

"Ye ladye ere long

Shall receive it,

Or e'er I be shriven."

Ye bower was high

Where ye fair ladye slept,

But Sir Wynkin climbed up

From ye basement.

By means of ye ivy

He painfully crept,

And ye potion placed

Outside the casement.

"She'll find it," quoth he,

"Ere the morrow is past.

Curiosity'll prompt her

To drink it.

Ye magic will act,

And she'll love me at last.

Ah me! 'Tis sweet joy

E'en to think it."

But alack! and alas!

Ye endyng was sad,

Ye love-philtre caused

Quite a commotion.

For—a toothless old grand-dame

Ye fair ladye had,

And she found, and she drank

Ye love potion!!

Fell madly in love

With Sir Wynkin 'tis said,

And declared that ye Knight

Had betrayed her.

So, distraught, from ye country

Sir Wynkin he fled,

And he died at ye wars—

A Crusader.