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To the shame of the prisoners be it spoken, the discourse of Ralph was broken by a loud shout from the cellar. To add to the abomination, the captives trolled forth in full concert a song—“a scornful thing,” as Ralph afterwards declared it, “against the might and authority of Sir Thomas Lucy.” The men, the maids—all flocked to the cellar door, while the dungeon of the prisoners rang with their shouting voices. “It was thus they glorified,” as Ralph avowed, “in their past iniquities”:—

“’Twas yester morning, as I walked adown by Charlecote Meads,

And counting o’er my wicked sins, as friars count their beads;

I halted just beside a deer—a deer with speaking face,

That seem’d to say, ‘In God’s name come and take me from this place!’

“And then it ’gan to tell its tale—and said its babe forlorn

Had butcher’d been for Lucy’s dish soon after it was born;

‘I know ’tis right!’ exclaimed the dam, ‘my child should form a feast,

But what I most complain of is, that beast should dine off beast!’

“And still the creature mourn’d its fate, and how it came to pass