ariondas/full_text_dataset · Datasets at Hugging Face

text stringlengths 0 1.91k
pottage and seethed kid, placed it upon the small table at which he had
himself supped, and, without waiting the Jew's thanks, went to the
other side of the hall;--whether from unwillingness to hold more close
communication with the object of his benevolence, or from a wish to draw
near to the upper end of the table, seemed uncertain.

Had there been painters in those days capable to execute such a subject,
the Jew, as he bent his withered form, and expanded his chilled and
trembling hands over the fire, would have formed no bad emblematical
personification of the Winter season. Having dispelled the cold, he
turned eagerly to the smoking mess which was placed before him, and
ate with a haste and an apparent relish, that seemed to betoken long
abstinence from food.

Meanwhile the Abbot and Cedric continued their discourse upon hunting;
the Lady Rowena seemed engaged in conversation with one of her attendant
females; and the haughty Templar, whose eye wandered from the Jew to
the Saxon beauty, revolved in his mind thoughts which appeared deeply to
interest him.

"I marvel, worthy Cedric," said the Abbot, as their discourse proceeded,
"that, great as your predilection is for your own manly language, you do
not receive the Norman-French into your favour, so far at least as the
mystery of wood-craft and hunting is concerned. Surely no tongue is so
rich in the various phrases which the field-sports demand, or furnishes
means to the experienced woodman so well to express his jovial art."

"Good Father Aymer," said the Saxon, "be it known to you, I care not
for those over-sea refinements, without which I can well enough take my
pleasure in the woods. I can wind my horn, though I call not the blast
either a 'recheate' or a 'morte'--I can cheer my dogs on the prey, and
I can flay and quarter the animal when it is brought down, without using
the newfangled jargon of 'curee, arbor, nombles', and all the babble of
the fabulous Sir Tristrem." [14]

"The French," said the Templar, raising his voice with the presumptuous
and authoritative tone which he used upon all occasions, "is not only
the natural language of the chase, but that of love and of war, in which
ladies should be won and enemies defied."

"Pledge me in a cup of wine, Sir Templar," said Cedric, "and fill
another to the Abbot, while I look back some thirty years to tell you
another tale. As Cedric the Saxon then was, his plain English tale
needed no garnish from French troubadours, when it was told in the ear
of beauty; and the field of Northallerton, upon the day of the Holy
Standard, could tell whether the Saxon war-cry was not heard as far
within the ranks of the Scottish host as the 'cri de guerre' of
the boldest Norman baron. To the memory of the brave who fought
there!--Pledge me, my guests." He drank deep, and went on with
increasing warmth. "Ay, that was a day of cleaving of shields, when a
hundred banners were bent forwards over the heads of the valiant, and
blood flowed round like water, and death was held better than flight.
A Saxon bard had called it a feast of the swords--a gathering of the
eagles to the prey--the clashing of bills upon shield and helmet, the
shouting of battle more joyful than the clamour of a bridal. But our
bards are no more," he said; "our deeds are lost in those of another
race--our language--our very name--is hastening to decay, and none
mourns for it save one solitary old man--Cupbearer! knave, fill the
goblets--To the strong in arms, Sir Templar, be their race or language
what it will, who now bear them best in Palestine among the champions of
the Cross!"

"It becomes not one wearing this badge to answer," said Sir Brian de
Bois-Guilbert; "yet to whom, besides the sworn Champions of the Holy
Sepulchre, can the palm be assigned among the champions of the Cross?"

"To the Knights Hospitallers," said the Abbot; "I have a brother of
their order."

"I impeach not their fame," said the Templar; "nevertheless---"

"I think, friend Cedric," said Wamba, interfering, "that had Richard
of the Lion's Heart been wise enough to have taken a fool's advice,
he might have staid at home with his merry Englishmen, and left the
recovery of Jerusalem to those same Knights who had most to do with the
loss of it."

"Were there, then, none in the English army," said the Lady Rowena,
"whose names are worthy to be mentioned with the Knights of the Temple,
and of St John?"

"Forgive me, lady," replied De Bois-Guilbert; "the English monarch did,
indeed, bring to Palestine a host of gallant warriors, second only to
those whose breasts have been the unceasing bulwark of that blessed
land."

"Second to NONE," said the Pilgrim, who had stood near enough to hear,
and had listened to this conversation with marked impatience. All turned
toward the spot from whence this unexpected asseveration was heard.

"I say," repeated the Pilgrim in a firm and strong voice, "that the
English chivalry were second to NONE who ever drew sword in defence of
the Holy Land. I say besides, for I saw it, that King Richard himself,
and five of his knights, held a tournament after the taking of St
John-de-Acre, as challengers against all comers. I say that, on that
day, each knight ran three courses, and cast to the ground three
antagonists. I add, that seven of these assailants were Knights of the
Temple--and Sir Brian de Bois-Guilbert well knows the truth of what I
tell you."

pottage and seethed kid, placed it upon the small table at which he had

himself supped, and, without waiting the Jew's thanks, went to the

other side of the hall;--whether from unwillingness to hold more close

communication with the object of his benevolence, or from a wish to draw

near to the upper end of the table, seemed uncertain.

Had there been painters in those days capable to execute such a subject,

the Jew, as he bent his withered form, and expanded his chilled and

trembling hands over the fire, would have formed no bad emblematical

personification of the Winter season. Having dispelled the cold, he

turned eagerly to the smoking mess which was placed before him, and

ate with a haste and an apparent relish, that seemed to betoken long

abstinence from food.

Meanwhile the Abbot and Cedric continued their discourse upon hunting;

the Lady Rowena seemed engaged in conversation with one of her attendant

females; and the haughty Templar, whose eye wandered from the Jew to

the Saxon beauty, revolved in his mind thoughts which appeared deeply to

interest him.

"I marvel, worthy Cedric," said the Abbot, as their discourse proceeded,

"that, great as your predilection is for your own manly language, you do

not receive the Norman-French into your favour, so far at least as the

mystery of wood-craft and hunting is concerned. Surely no tongue is so

rich in the various phrases which the field-sports demand, or furnishes

means to the experienced woodman so well to express his jovial art."

"Good Father Aymer," said the Saxon, "be it known to you, I care not

for those over-sea refinements, without which I can well enough take my

pleasure in the woods. I can wind my horn, though I call not the blast

either a 'recheate' or a 'morte'--I can cheer my dogs on the prey, and

I can flay and quarter the animal when it is brought down, without using

the newfangled jargon of 'curee, arbor, nombles', and all the babble of

the fabulous Sir Tristrem." [14]

"The French," said the Templar, raising his voice with the presumptuous

and authoritative tone which he used upon all occasions, "is not only

the natural language of the chase, but that of love and of war, in which

ladies should be won and enemies defied."

"Pledge me in a cup of wine, Sir Templar," said Cedric, "and fill

another to the Abbot, while I look back some thirty years to tell you

another tale. As Cedric the Saxon then was, his plain English tale

needed no garnish from French troubadours, when it was told in the ear

of beauty; and the field of Northallerton, upon the day of the Holy

Standard, could tell whether the Saxon war-cry was not heard as far

within the ranks of the Scottish host as the 'cri de guerre' of

the boldest Norman baron. To the memory of the brave who fought

there!--Pledge me, my guests." He drank deep, and went on with

increasing warmth. "Ay, that was a day of cleaving of shields, when a

hundred banners were bent forwards over the heads of the valiant, and

blood flowed round like water, and death was held better than flight.

A Saxon bard had called it a feast of the swords--a gathering of the

eagles to the prey--the clashing of bills upon shield and helmet, the

shouting of battle more joyful than the clamour of a bridal. But our

bards are no more," he said; "our deeds are lost in those of another

race--our language--our very name--is hastening to decay, and none

mourns for it save one solitary old man--Cupbearer! knave, fill the

goblets--To the strong in arms, Sir Templar, be their race or language

what it will, who now bear them best in Palestine among the champions of

the Cross!"

"It becomes not one wearing this badge to answer," said Sir Brian de

Bois-Guilbert; "yet to whom, besides the sworn Champions of the Holy

Sepulchre, can the palm be assigned among the champions of the Cross?"

"To the Knights Hospitallers," said the Abbot; "I have a brother of

their order."

"I impeach not their fame," said the Templar; "nevertheless---"

"I think, friend Cedric," said Wamba, interfering, "that had Richard

of the Lion's Heart been wise enough to have taken a fool's advice,

he might have staid at home with his merry Englishmen, and left the

recovery of Jerusalem to those same Knights who had most to do with the

loss of it."

"Were there, then, none in the English army," said the Lady Rowena,

"whose names are worthy to be mentioned with the Knights of the Temple,

and of St John?"

"Forgive me, lady," replied De Bois-Guilbert; "the English monarch did,

indeed, bring to Palestine a host of gallant warriors, second only to

those whose breasts have been the unceasing bulwark of that blessed

land."

"Second to NONE," said the Pilgrim, who had stood near enough to hear,

and had listened to this conversation with marked impatience. All turned

toward the spot from whence this unexpected asseveration was heard.

"I say," repeated the Pilgrim in a firm and strong voice, "that the

English chivalry were second to NONE who ever drew sword in defence of

the Holy Land. I say besides, for I saw it, that King Richard himself,

and five of his knights, held a tournament after the taking of St

John-de-Acre, as challengers against all comers. I say that, on that

day, each knight ran three courses, and cast to the ground three

antagonists. I add, that seven of these assailants were Knights of the

Temple--and Sir Brian de Bois-Guilbert well knows the truth of what I

tell you."