CHAPTER VI.
IN WHICH THE MINSTRELSY PROCEEDS.
No wonder, then, if Father Roach, when Loftus, in the innocence of his heart, announced his song and its theme, was thoroughly uneasy, and would have given a good deal that he had not helped that simple youth into his difficulty.

But things must now take their course.

So amid a decorous silence, Dan Loftus lifted up his voice, and sang.

That voice was a high small pipe, with a very nervous quaver in it.

He leaned back in his chair, and little more than the whites of his upturned eyes were visible; and beating time upon the table with one hand, claw-wise, and with two or three queer, little thrills and roulades, which re-appeared with great precision in each verse, he delivered himself thus, in what I suspect was an old psalm tune:-- 'Now Lent is come, let us refrain From carnal creatures, quick or slain; Let's fast and macerate the flesh, Impound and keep it in distress.' Here there came a wonderful, unspellable choking sound, partly through the mouth, partly through the nose, from several of the officers; and old General Chattesworth, who was frowning hard upon his dessert-plate, cried, 'Order, gentlemen,' in a stern, but very tremulous undertone.
Lord Castlemallard, leaning upon his elbow, was staring with a grave and dreamy curiosity at the songster, and neither he nor his lordship heard the interruption, and on went the pleasant ditty; and as the musician regularly repeated the last two lines like a clerk in a piece of psalmody, the young wags, to save themselves from bursting outright, joined in the chorus, while verse after verse waxed more uproarious and hilarious, and gave a singular relief to Loftus's thin, high, quavering solo:-- (_Loftus, solo._) 'But to forbear from flesh, fowl, fish, And eat potatoes in a dish, Done o'er with amber, or a mess Of ringos in a Spanish dress (_Chorus of Officers._) 'Done o'er with amber, or a mess Of ringos in a Spanish dress.' ''Tis a good song,' murmured Doctor Walsingham in Lord Castlemallard's ear--'I know the verses well--the ingenious and pious Howel penned them in the reign of King James the First.' 'Ha! thank you, Sir,' said his lordship.
(_Loftus, solo._) 'Or to refrain from all high dishes, But feed our thoughts with wanton wishes, Making the soul, like a light wench, Wear patches of concupiscence.
(_Chorus of Officers._) 'Making the soul, like a light wench, Wear patches of concupiscence (_Loftus, solo._) 'This is not to keep Lent aright, But play the juggling hypocrite; For we must starve the inward man, And feed the outward too on bran.
(_Chorus of Officers._) 'For we must starve the inward man, And feed the outward too on bran.' I believe no song was ever received with heartier bursts of laughter and applause.