I
Down the Argesh lea,
Beautiful to see,
Prince Negru he wended
By ten mates attended:
Nine worthy craftsmen,
Masons, journeymen,
With Manole ten,
The highest in fame.
Forth they strode apace
There to find a place
Where to build a shrine,
A cloister divine.
And, lo, down the lea
A shepherd they see,
In years so unripe,
Playing on his pipe.
To him the prince sped
And thus spoke and said,
"Handsome little swain
On thy sweet pipe playing!
Up the Argesh stream
Thy flock thou hast ta'en;
Down the Argesh green
With the flock thou'st been;
Didst thou hap to see
Somewhere down the lea
An old wall all rotten,
Unfinished, forgotten,
On a green slope lush,
Near a hazel brush?"
"That, good sire, I did;
In hazel brush hid,
There's a wall all rotten,
Unfinished, forgotten.
My dogs when they spy it
Make a rush to bite it,
And howl hollowly,
And growl ghoulishly."
As the prince did hear
Greatly did he cheer,
And walked to that wall,
With nine masons all,
Nine worthy craftsmen,
With Manole ten,
The highest in fame.
"Here's my wall!" quoth he.
"Here I choose that ye
Build for me a shrine,
A cloister divine.
Therefore, great craftsmen,
Masons, journeymen,
Start ye busily
To build on this lea
A tall monastery;
Make it with your worth
Peerless on this earth;
Then ye shall have gold,
Each shall be a lord.
Oh, but should you fail,
Then you'll moan and wail,
For I'll have you all
Built up in the wall;
I will—so I thrive—
Build you up alive!"
(to be continued)