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And, close behind, the comely Matron rode,
A Woman of soft speech and gracious smile,
And with a Lady's mien.—From far they came,
Even from Northumbrian hills; yet theirs had been
A merry journey—rich in pastime—cheered
By music, prank, and laughter-stirring jest;
And freak put on, and arch word dropped—to swell
The cloud of fancy and uncouth surmise
That gathered round the slowly-moving train.
—"Whence do they come? and with what errand charged?
"Belong they to the fortune-telling Tribe
"Who pitch their Tents beneath the green-wood Tree?
"Or are they Strollers, furnished to enact
"Fair Rosamond, and the Children of the Wood,
"And, by that whiskered Tabby's aid, set forth
"The lucky venture of sage Whittington,
"When the next Village hears the Show announced
"By blast of trumpet?" Plenteous was the growth
Of such conjectures, overheard; or seen
On many a staring countenance pourtrayed
Of Boor or Burgher, as they marched along.
And more than once their steadiness of face
