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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=498837" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A Lay of St. Nicholas</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Statim sacerdoti apparuit diabolus in specie puellæ pulchritudinis miræ, et ecce Divus, fide catholica et cruce et aqua benedicta armatus, venit, et aspersit aquam in nomine Sanctæ et Individuæ Trinitatis, quam, quasi ardentem, diabolus, nequaquam sustinere valens, mugitibus fugit.' <br>-- Roger Hoveden. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Lord Abbot! Lord Abbot! I'd fain confess; <br>I am a-weary, and worn with woe; <br>Many a grief doth my heart oppress, <br>And haunt me whithersoever I go!' </div><div style="margin:10px 0">On bended knee spake the beautiful Maid; <br>'Now lithe and listen, Lord Abbot, to me!'-- <br>'Now naye, Fair Daughter,' the Lord Abbot said, <br>'Now naye, in sooth it may hardly be; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">'There is Mess Michael, and holy Mess John, <br>Sage Penitauncers I ween be they! <br>And hard by doth dwell, in St. Catherine's cell, <br>Ambrose, the anchorite old and grey!' </div><div style="margin:10px 0">'-- Oh, I will have none of Ambrose or John, <br>Though sage Penitauncers I trow they be; <br>Shrive me may none save the Abbot alone. <br>Now listen, Lord Abbot, I speak to thee. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Nor think foul scorn, though mitre adorn <br>Thy brow, to listen to shrift of mine. <br>I am a Maiden royally born, <br>And I come of old Plantagenet's line. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Though hither I stray in lowly array, <br>I am a Damsel of high degree; <br>And the Compte of Eu, and the Lord of Ponthieu, <br>They serve my father on bended knee! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Counts a many, and Dukes a few, <br>A suitoring came to my father's Hall; <br>But the Duke of Lorraine, with his large domain, <br>He pleased my father beyond them all. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Dukes a many, and Counts a few, <br>I would have wedded right cheerfullie; <br>But the Duke of Lorraine was uncommonly plain, <br>And I vow'd that he ne'er should my bridegroom be! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">'So hither I fly, in lowly guise, <br>From their gilded domes and their princely halls; <br>Fain would I dwell in some holy cell, <br>Or within some Convent's peaceful walls!' </div><div style="margin:10px 0">-- Then out and spake that proud Lord Abbot, <br>'Now rest thee, Fair Daughter, withouten fear; <br>Nor Count nor Duke but shall meet the rebuke <br>Of Holy Church an he seek thee here: </div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Holy Church denieth all search <br>'Midst her sanctified ewes and her saintly rams; <br>And the wolves doth mock who would scathe her flock, <br>Or, especially, worry her little pet lambs. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Then lay, Fair Daughter, thy fears aside, <br>For here this day shalt thou dine with me!'-- <br>'Now naye, now naye,' the fair maiden cried; <br>'In sooth, Lord Abbot, that scarce may be! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Friends would whisper, and foes would frown, <br>Sith thou art a Churchman of high degree, <br>And ill mote it match with thy fair renown <br>That a wandering damsel dine with thee! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">'There is Simon the Deacon hath pulse in store, <br>With beans and lettuces fair to see; <br>His lenten fare now let me share, <br>I pray thee, Lord Abbot, in charitie!' </div><div style="margin:10px 0">--'Though Simon the Deacon hath pulse in store, <br>To our patron Saint foul shame it were <br>Should wayworn guest, with toil oppress'd, <br>Meet in his abbey such churlish fare. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">'There is Peter the Prior, and Francis the Friar, <br>And Roger the Monk shall our convives be; <br>Small scandal I ween shall then be seen; <br>They are a goodly companie!' </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Abbot hath donn'd his mitre and ring, <br>His rich dalmatic, and maniple fine; <br>And the choristers sing as the lay-brothers bring <br>To the board a magnificent turkey and chine. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The turkey and chine, they are done to a nicety; <br>Liver, and gizzard, and all are there: <br>Ne'er mote Lord Abbot pronounce Benedicite <br>Over more luscious or delicate fare. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But no pious stave he, no Pater or Ave <br>Pronounced, as he gazed on that maiden's face: <br>She ask'd him for stuffing, she ask'd him for gravy, <br>She ask'd him for gizzard;-- but not for Grace! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yet gaily the Lord Abbot smiled and press'd, <br>And the blood-red wine in the wine-cup fill'd; <br>And he help'd his guest to a bit of the breast, <br>And he sent the drumsticks down to be grill'd. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">There was no lack of old Sherris sack, <br>Of Hippocras fine, or of Malmsey bright; <br>And aye, as he drained off his cup with a smack, <br>He grew less pious and more polite. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">She pledged him once, and she pledged him twice, <br>And she drank as a Lady ought not to drink; <br>And he press'd her hand 'neath the table thrice, <br>And he wink'd as an Abbot ought not to wink. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And Peter the Prior, and Francis the Friar, <br>Sat each with a napkin under his chin; <br>But Roger the Monk got excessively drunk, <br>So they put him to bed, and they tuck'd him in! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The lay-brothers gazed on each other, amazed; <br>And Simon the Deacon, with grief and surprise, <br>As he peep'd through the key-hole could scarce fancy real <br>The scene he beheld, or believe his own eyes. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">In his ear was ringing the Lord Abbot singing,-- <br>He could not distinguish the words very plain, <br>But 'twas all about 'Cole,' and 'jolly old Soul,' <br>And 'Fiddlers,' and 'Punch,' and things quite as profane. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Even Porter Paul, at the sound of such revelling, <br>With fervour began himself to bless; <br>For he thought he must somehow have let the devil in,-- <br>And perhaps was not very much out in his guess. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Accusing Byers 'flew up to Heaven's Chancery,' <br>Blushing like scarlet with shame and concern; <br>The Archangel took down his tale, and in answer he <br>Wept -- (See the works of the late Mr. Sterne.) </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Indeed, it is said, a less taking both were in <br>When, after a lapse of a great many years, <br>They book'd Uncle Toby five shillings for swearing, <br>And blotted the fine out at last with their tears! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But St. Nicholas' agony who may paint? <br>His senses at first were well-nigh gone; <br>The beatified Saint was ready to faint <br>When he saw in his Abbey such sad goings on! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">For never, I ween, had such doings been seen <br>There before, from the time that most excellent Prince, <br>Earl Baldwin of Flanders, and other Commanders, <br>Had built and endow'd it some centuries since. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">-- But, hark!--' tis a sound from the outermost gate! <br>A startling sound from a powerful blow. <br>Who knocks so late?-- it is half after eight <br>By the clock,-- and the clock's five minutes too slow. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Never, perhaps, had such loud double raps <br>Been heard in St. Nicholas' Abbey before; <br>All agreed 'it was shocking to keep people knocking,' <br>But none seem'd inclined to 'answer the door.' </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now a louder bang through the cloisters rang, <br>And the gate on its hinges wide open flew; <br>And all were aware of a Palmer there, <br>With his cockle, hat, staff, and his sandal shoe. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Many a furrow, and many a frown, <br>By toil and time on his brow were traced; <br>And his long loose gown was of ginger brown, <br>And his rosary dangled below his waist. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now seldom, I ween, is such costume seen, <br>Except at a stage-play or masquerade; <br>But who doth not know it was rather the go <br>With Pilgrims and Saints in the second Crusade? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">With noiseless stride did that Palmer glide <br>Across that oaken floor; <br>And he made them all jump, he gave such a thump <br>Against the Refectory door! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Wide open it flew, and plain to the view <br>The Lord Abbot they all mote see; <br>In his hand was a cup, and he lifted it up, <br>'Here's the Pope's good health with three!!'-- </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Rang in their ears three deafening cheers, <br>'Huzza! huzza! huzza!' <br>And one of the party said, 'Go it, my hearty!'-- <br>When out spake that Pilgrim grey -- </div><div style="margin:10px 0">'A boon, Lord Abbot! a boon! a boon! <br>Worn is my foot, and empty my scrip; <br>And nothing to speak of since yesterday noon <br>Of food, Lord Abbot, hath pass'd my lip. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">'And I am come from a far countree, <br>And have visited many a holy shrine; <br>And long have I trod the sacred sod <br>Where the Saints do rest in Palestine!'-- </div><div style="margin:10px 0">'An thou art come from a far countree, <br>And if thou in Paynim lands hast been, <br>Now rede me aright the most wonderful sight, <br>Thou Palmer grey, that thine eyes have seen. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Arede me aright the most wonderful sight, <br>Grey Palmer, that ever thine eyes did see, <br>And a manchette of bread, and a good warm bed, <br>And a cup o' the best shall thy guerdon be!'-- </div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Oh! I have been east, and I have been west, <br>And I have seen many a wonderful sight; <br>But never to me did it happen to see <br>A wonder like that which I see this night! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">'To see a Lord Abbot, in rochet and stole, <br>With Prior and Friar,-- a strange mar-velle!-- <br>O'er a jolly full bowl, sitting cheek by jowl, <br>And hob-nobbing away with a Devil from Hell!' </div><div style="margin:10px 0">He felt in his gown of ginger brown, <br>And he pull'd out a flask from beneath; <br>It was rather tough work to get out the cork, <br>But he drew it at last with his teeth. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">O'er a pint and a quarter of holy water <br>He made the sacred sign; <br>And he dash'd the whole on the soi-disante daughter <br>Of old Plantagenet's line! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oh! then did she reek, and squeak, and shriek, <br>With a wild unearthly scream; <br>And fizzled and hiss'd, and produced such a mist, <br>They were all half-choked by the steam. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Her dove-like eyes turn'd to coals of fire, <br>Her beautiful nose to a horrible snout, <br>Her hands to paws with nasty great claws, <br>And her bosom went in, and her tail came out. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">On her chin there appear'd a long Nanny-goat's beard, <br>And her tusks and her teeth no man mote tell; <br>And her horns and her hoofs gave infallible proofs <br>'Twas a frightful Fiend from the nethermost Hell! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Palmer threw down his ginger gown, <br>His hat and his cockle; and, plain to sight, <br>Stood St. Nicholas' self, and his shaven crown <br>Had a glow-worm halo of heavenly light. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Fiend made a grasp, the Abbot to clasp; <br>But St. Nicholas lifted his holy toe, <br>And, just in the nick, let fly such a kick <br>On his elderly Namesake, he made him let go. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And out of the window he flew like a shot, <br>For the foot flew up with a terrible thwack, <br>And caught the foul demon about the spot <br>Where his tail joins on to the small of his back. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And he bounded away, like a foot-ball at play, <br>Till into the bottomless pit he fell slap, <br>Knocking Mammon the meagre o'er pursy Belphegor, <br>And Lucifer into Beelzebub's lap. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oh! happy the slip from his Succubine grip, <br>That saved the Lord Abbot,-- though, breathless with fright, <br>In escaping he tumbled, and fractured his hip, <br>And his left leg was shorter thenceforth than his right! </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>On the banks of the Rhine, as he's stopping to dine, <br>From a certain Inn-window the traveller is shown <br>Most picturesque ruins, the scene of these doings, <br>Some miles up the river, south-east of Cologne. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And, while 'sour-kraut' she sells you, the Landlady tells you <br>That there, in those walls, now all roofless and bare, <br>One Simon, a Deacon, from a lean grew a sleek one, <br>On filling a ci-devant Abbot's state chair. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">How a ci-devant Abbot, all clothed in drab, but <br>Of texture the coarsest, hair shirt, and no shoes, <br>(His mitre and ring, and all that sort of thing <br>Laid aside,) in yon Cave lived a pious recluse; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">How he rose with the sun, limping, 'dot and go one,' <br>To you rill of the mountain, in all sorts of weather, <br>Where a Prior and a Friar, who lived somewhat higher <br>Up the rock, used to come and eat cresses together; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">How a thirsty old codger, the neighbours call'd Roger, <br>With them drank cold water in lieu of old wine! <br>What its quality wanted he made up in quantity, <br>Swigging as though he would empty the Rhine! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And how, as their bodily strength fail'd, the mental man <br>Gain'd tenfold vigour and force in all four; <br>And how, to the day of their death, the 'Old Gentleman' <br>Never attempted to kidnap them more. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And how, when at length, in the odour of sanctity, <br>All of them died without grief or complaint; <br>The Monks of St. Nicholas said 'twas ridiculous <br>Not to suppose every one was a Saint. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And how, in the Abbey, no one was so shabby <br>As not to say yearly four masses a head, <br>On the eve of that supper, and kick on the crupper <br>Which Satan received, for the souls of the dead! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">How folks long held in reverence their reliques and memories, <br>How the ci-devant Abbot's obtain'd greater still, <br>When some cripples, on touching his fractured os femoris, <br>Threw down their crutches, and danced a quadrille. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And how Abbot Simon, (who turn'd out a prime one,) <br>These words, which grew into a proverb full soon, <br>O'er the late Abbot's grotto, stuck up as a motto, <br>'Who suppes with the Devylle sholde have a long spoone!!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Richard+Harris+Barham">Richard Harris Barham</a><div class=q>
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