Sabbath Breaking

Sir Jonas Hawk and Sir Nilus Mard
Two comrades dear were they,
And rode together in chase of game
The morning of Easter day.

They pass'd the cloister, they pass'd the church,
Nor had they a thought of mass;
But hasten'd away with hawks and hounds
Off into the wild morass.

By church and cloister alike they rode,
And scorn'd any mass to hear,
And came on the heath, and told their dreams,
The weary way to cheer.

"It seem'd, as over the bridge I rode,
"My horse with a sadden bound
"Had started and thrown me off his back,
"And trod on me on the ground."

"And didst thou seem, Sir Nilus Mard,
"Across a bridge to ride?
"This vision doth surely, trust my words,
"Some evil for us betide."

Thus all so friendly these comrades rode
And came to a wooded hill;
"True, true, Sir Jonas, the dream I have dream'd,
"Does certainly bode us ill.

"My horse so wildly rear'd and plunged,
"My boots were full of blood,
"And senseless he threw me upon the turf,
"And ran to the forest stud."

But onward they rode, nor gave their dreams
One further thought or care,
For near them a tiny creature ran,
They took it to be a hare.

The creature spake with a human voice,
And utter'd the words so plain;
"Sir Nilus, hark thee! recall thy dogs,
"For me thou wilt chase in vain.

"A steak of my body thou wilt not broil,
"Though hunting me all the day,
"But when thou art come on the open field,
"A different game wilt play.

"Aye tho' thou hunt est me all day long,
"I come not beneath thy knife;
"But sure as thou dost so, trust my words,
"Thy comrade will lose his life."

"Sir Nilus, aware!" Sir Jonas cried
With loud and derisive shout,
"The hare is making for yonder wood;
"Now what are your dogs about?

"Yourself will have train'd those precious hounds,
"May well of the pack be vain;
"They run as swiftly on salty sea,
"As over the grassy plain!"

"Ride on," replied Sir Nilus Mard,
While anger heav'd his breast,
"Ride whither thou wilt, thou basely born,
"But make not my hounds thy jest.

"Ride whither thou wilt, thou basely born,
"Nor stop to chide at a hound,
"Perhaps thou mayest thy father find,
"Go scour the country round."

"No bastard nor fatherless child am I,
"For father! — I do know mine,
"He left to me household stuff and land,
"That never did one of thine."

They drew their circle upon the ground
In midst of the wild black heath,
And there they closed in an angry fight,
And struggled for life and death.

They fought for a day, they fought for two,
Alone on the moory plain,
Nor would they either the circle quit
Till one had the other slain.

And there lay both those gentlemen,
And slowly they bled to death;
And off their horses, and hawks and hounds
Fled wildly across the heath.

And they fought too, those noble steeds,
As were they with fury fill'd;
And hound beside them was match'd with hound,
Till each had the other kill'd.

Ah! luckless the hounds they bred and train'd.
The cause of so deadly strife,
Two comrades for them in combat fell,
And bootlessly lost their life.

The gentle Mettelille, sorely wept,
Sir Nilus's youthful bride,
And Sidselille, she, fair lovely maid,
Sat sorrowing, till she died.

And so I counsel you each and all,
Ride not to the healthful chase,
Till, late or early, you've been to church,
And pray'd to your God for grace.