The Goblin Groom

By R. O. Fenwick

This book is written in verse and is presented as two stanzas. It is humorous in tone and tells the story of a fox hunt beginning on the last day of April 1806 and ending the next day with the death of the fox in Flodden Field. It is told through the eyes of a goblin who appears while the chase is taking place.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sharp Ink
• Release date: Jun 16, 2022
• ISBN: 9788028200442

Book preview

R. O. Fenwick

The Goblin Groom

Sharp Ink Publishing

2022

Contact: [e-mail]

ISBN 978-80-282-0044-2

Table of Contents

CANTO FIRST.

I.

II.

III.

IV.

V.

VI.

VII.

VIII.

IX.

X.

XI.

XII.

XIII.

XIV.

XV.

XVI.

XVII.

XVIII.

XIX.

XX.

THE GOBLIN GROOM.

TO BENJAMIN BUFFET, BUTLER TO HIS GRACE THE D—OF B— —H.

THE GOBLIN GROOM.

CANTO SECOND. The Fox-Chace.

THE GOBLIN GROOM.

I.

II.

III.

IV.

V.

VI.

VII.

VIII.

IX.

X.

XI.

XII.

XIII.

XIV.

XV.

XVI.

XVII.

XVIII.

XIX.

XX.

XXI.

XXII.

XXIII.

XXIV.

L’Envoy,

CANTO FIRST.

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---

The Hostel, or Inn.

---

I.

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Joy reign’d in Dunse’s[5] distant seat,

Thro’ tavern, market place, and street,

The scene of many a valiant feat

In days of distant yore.

But now those distant days are fled,

Peace rears again her placid head,

And gory feud I hope is staid

To plague the land no more.

Where garden is, was place of tilt

Or tournament, where blood was spilt;

Where stain’d was many a foeman’s hilt

With blood of knight laid low;

Now peeps the pea, from glowing bed,

Forgetful of December dread;

The broader bean, her leaf has spread

Th’ unhallow’d spot to show.

II.

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Now why are Dunse’s people glad,

Who once were wont to be so sad;

How was the feudal hatred staid

That waste their lovely fields had laid;

Why rolls the Whittadder[6] so white,

The scene of many a bloody fight;

And how has peace reception found

On such unhallowed bloody ground?

I may not tell the change of time;

It ill becomes my minstrel rhyme:

’Twere impious surely to relate

The fancied works of fancied fate.

Enough, the bloody feud is staid;

Enough, the sword aside is laid;

And Whittadder long may’st thou flow

With spotless wave and crystal tide;

And may’st thou never, never know,

Again the strife of border side.

III.

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The sun o’er Dunse’s hills of grey,

Had nearly shed his parting light,

Save to the west, one lingering ray,

Seemed to forbid th’ approach of night;

And Lammermoor, with transient smile,

Now lighted up her visage bleak,

And every distant hill, the while,

Shone with a vivid, passing streak;

And Tweed’s broad river, from afar,

Blazed like a beacon flame of war:

Sure ’twould have pleased your heart to see

So much of grandeur, so much glee.

’Twas so to Dunse, when keen of sport

The Lothian sportsmen bent their way;

Her hostel then became a court;

If courts are jovial, courts are gay.

But why need I pretend to tell,

What to each chief or squire befel

In journeying that way.

IV.

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Thronged was the hostel’s chambered space,

With peer, with baron, knight, and squire,

And many a waiting man in lace

Stood ready round the kitchen fire,

Attentive to the jirking wire;

For each attendant knew full well

The jirking of his master’s bell.

I’ll say the sportsmen all are dressed,

Have doffed their morning’s spattered vest,

And after salutation meet,

And question after lady fair,

Each at the board has ta’en his seat;

For ev’ry sportsman had his chair.

V.

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Perchance, my friend, you’d have me name

Each, after each, in his degree;

Or even say from whence they came;

Alas! that must not, may not be.

In truth, I only know a few

Of all the gallant, noble crew:

But