The Lake of Wine Author: Bernard Edward Joseph Capes

 The Lake of Wine  Author: Bernard Edward Joseph Capes

THE LAKE OF WINE BY BERNARD CAPES
NEW YORK. D. APPLETON AND COMPANY. 1898COPYRIGHT. Copyright, 1898, By D. APPLETON AND COMPANY.All rights reserved.

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CONTENTS.EPIGRAPHCHAPTER ICHAPTER IICHAPTER IIICHAPTER IVCHAPTER VCHAPTER VICHAPTER VIICHAPTER VIIICHAPTER IXCHAPTER XCHAPTER XICHAPTER XIICHAPTER XIIICHAPTER XIVCHAPTER XVCHAPTER XVICHAPTER XVIICHAPTER XVIIICHAPTER XIXCHAPTER XXCHAPTER XXICHAPTER XXIICHAPTER XXIIICHAPTER XXIVCHAPTER XXVCHAPTER XXVICHAPTER XXVIICHAPTER XXVIIICHAPTER XXIXCHAPTER XXXCHAPTER XXXICHAPTER XXXIICHAPTER XXXIIICHAPTER XXXIVCHAPTER XXXVCHAPTER XXXVICHAPTER XXXVIICHAPTER XXXVIIICHAPTER XXXIXCHAPTER XLCHAPTER XLICHAPTER XLIICHAPTER XLIIICHAPTER XLIVCHAPTER XLVCHAPTER XLVICHAPTER XLVIICHAPTER XLVIIICHAPTER XLIXCHAPTER LCHAPTER LICHAPTER LIICHAPTER LIIICHAPTER LIVCHAPTER LVEPIGRAPH.“So fares the unthrifty lord of Linne
Till all his gold is gone and spent:
And he maun sell his lands so broad,
His house and landes and all his rent.
. . . . . . .
Thus he hath sold his land so broad,
Both hill and holt, and moore and fenne,
All but a poore and lonesome lodge,
That stood far off in a lonely glenne.

For soe he to his father hight:
‘My sonne, when I am gonne,’ sayd hee,
‘Then thou wilt spend thy lande so broad,
And thou wilt spend thy gold so free:

But sweare me nowe upon the roode,
That lonesome lodge thou’lt never spend;
For when all the world doth frown on thee,
Thou there shalt find a faithful friend.’
. . . . . . .
Away then hyed the heire of Linne
O’er hill and holt, and moore and fenne,
Untill he came to the lonesome lodge,
That stood so lowe in a lonely glenne.
. . . . . . .
Then round his necke the corde he drewe,
And sprang aloft with his bodie:
When lo! the ceiling burst in twaine,
And to the ground came tumbling hee.

Astonyed lay the heire of Linne,
Ne knewe if he were live or dead:
At length he looked, and sawe a bille,
And in it a key of gold so redd.

He took the bill, and lookt it on,
Strait good comfort found he there:
Itt told him of a hole in the wall,
In which there stood three chests in-fere.

Two were full of the beaten golde,
The third was full of white monèy;
And over them in broad lettèrs
These words were written so plaine to see:

‘Once more, my sonne, I sette thee clere;
Amend thy life and follies past;
For but thou amend thee of thy life,
That rope must be thy end at last.’”

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