| |
| OFT had the Abbot of Rodenstein, | |
| Piously praying within his stall, | |
| Under the castle by the Rhine, | |
| Grudgingly craved the lands whose line | |
| Bordered his convent garden-wall. | 5 |
| |
| “Long have our fields been far too strait | |
| For the growing needs of the Brotherhood; | |
| These meadows we ’ll have or soon or late, | |
| A part and parcel of our estate, | |
| As sure as there ’s help in the Holy Rood. | 10 |
| |
| “Lightly will matter an oath or twain, | |
| If out of it come such good, I trow, | |
| Vellum we have of an ancient stain, | |
| Whereon we will write our title plain | |
| As dated a hundred years ago.” | 15 |
| |
| So mused the Abbot: and in his zeal | |
| He rated the Count from year to year, | |
| Who heard nor heeded the bold appeal; | |
| For well he reckoned the royal seal | |
| Whereby he could prove his tenure clear. | 20 |
| |
| But worried and worn by long demand, | |
| And weakened by hints of churchly threat, | |
| He promised, at length, to yield the land | |
| Forever and aye beneath his hand, | |
| If one condition were fairly met. | 25 |
| |
| “Now grant me your leave to sow once more, | |
| A single crop in the meadows, mine, | |
| The fief of my fathers heretofore; | |
| And when it is ripe and had in store, | |
| The soil you covet I thence resign.” | 30 |
| |
| Full gladly the Abbot pledged him true, | |
| In the Holy Name, all sealed and signed: | |
| The seed it was sown, and the green blades grew | |
| Fast under his eye; but strange to view | |
| Were the stalks that bent in the waving wind. | 35 |
| |
| One day, as he watched the field, a groan | |
| Brake forth as if born of sudden fears; | |
| “Ach Himmel! what hopes are overthrown! | |
| The crop of acorns the Count hath sown | |
| Will not be ripe for a hundred years!” | 40 |
| |
