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Updated: May 27, 2025
''Tis the twenty-ninth of merry May; Full cheerily shine the sunbeams to-day, Their joyous light revealing Full many a troop in garments gay, With cheerful steps who take their way By the green hill and shady lane, While merry bells are pealing; And soon in Beechcroft's holy fane The villagers are kneeling.
"The affair created some stir in the Naples of that day, but Beechcroft's suffering, the calm daring with which, after the girl's death, he defied those who had vowed vengeance on him, and the generally passionate nature of the attachment between the two, created much public sympathy for him. Among others who were attracted to him were a Mr. and Mrs.
So thought each laughing maiden gay, Whose head-gear bore the oaken spray; So thought that hand of shouting boys, Unchecked in their best joy in noise; But gray-haired men, whose deep-marked scars Bore token of the civil wars, And hooded dames in cloaks of red, At the blithe youngsters shook the head, Gathering in eager clusters told How joyous were the days of old, When Beechcroft's lords, those Barons bold, Came forth to join their vassals' sport, And here to hold their rustic court, Throned in the ancient chair you see Beneath our noble old yew tree.
And two short years just passed away, Between that joyous meeting-day, And the sad eve when Beechcroft's bell Tolled forth Sir Maurice's funeral knell; And Phyllis, whose love was so constant and tried, Was a widow the year she was Maurice's bride; Yet the path of the noble and true-hearted knight, Was brilliant with honour, and glory, and light, And still his descendants shall sing of the fame Of Sir Maurice de Mohun, the pride of his name.
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