In it the gipsy tells of what he can offer the lady, and lo! it was our own case!-- "And ye shall wear no silken gown, No maid shall bind your hair; The yellow broom shall be your gem, Your braid the heather rare.
"Athwart the moor, adown the hill, Across the world away! The path is long for happy hearts That sing to greet the day, My love, That sing to greet the day." I remember, too, the last verse of it:-- "And at the last no solemn stole Shall on thy breast be laid; No mumbling priest shall speed thy soul, No charnel vault thee shade.
But by the shadowed hazel copse, Aneath the greenwood tree, Where airs are soft and waters sing, Thou'lt ever sleep by me, My love, Thou'lt ever sleep by me." Then we fell to talking about the things in the West that no man had yet discovered, and Shalah, to whom our songs were nothing, now lent an ear.
"The first Virginians," said Grey, "thought that over the hills lay the western ocean and the road to Cathay.

I do not know, but I am confident that but a little way west we should come to water.

A great river or else the ocean." Ringan differed.

He held that the land of America was very wide in those parts, as wide as south of the isthmus where no man had yet crossed it.

Then he told us of a sea-captain who had travelled inland in Mexico for five weeks and come to a land where gold was as common as chuckiestones, and a great people dwelt who worshipped a god who lived in a mountain.