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THE BANQUET HALL But all in copes most costly and most gay There, too, the Abbey-Marshal shone, And there, beside the Abbot's throne, ChapLain or HoxouR from the Pope, alone. Thus the Lord-Abbot, were he proud, Might muse upcn the checkered crowd; Nor always did his mind disdain The worldly honours, though so vain. His board with massive plate was laid, And rare inventions it displayed; Each Sewer-Monk his homage paid With bended knee and bowed head; And Latin verse, half sung, half said On every platform, as he rose Through the long hall to its high close, Where frankincense from golden urns In light wreath round the Abbot burns. The chaunted Latin Grace was sung With pomp of instruments that rung The arched roofs, galleries, and screens among. And, when a royal guest was there, The Abbot rising from his chair, Blest with spread hands, the ordered feast, While reverend stood each princely guest, And far adown the hall might see Knights, Bishops, Earls, on bended knee. And when came up, at old Yule-Tide, The boar's head, trimmed with garlands gay, With shining holly's scarlet pride And the sweet-scented rosemary, O! then what merry carols rung! What choral lays the Minstrels sung!