Part 9 (1/2)
R. H. BARHAM
The Jackdaw sat on the Cardinal's chair!
Bishop and abbot and prior were there; Many a monk, and many a friar, Many a knight, and many a squire, With a great many more of lesser degree,-- In sooth, a goodly company; And they served the Lord Primate on bended knee.
Never, I ween, was a prouder seen, Read of in books, or dreamt of in dreams, Than the Cardinal Lord Archbishop of Rheims!
In and out through the motley rout, That little Jackdaw kept hopping about: Here and there, like a dog in a fair, Over comfits and cates, and dishes and plates, Cowl and cope, and rochet and pall, Miter and crosier! he hopped upon all.
With a saucy air, he perched on the chair Where, in state, the great Lord Cardinal sat, In the great Lord Cardinal's great red hat; And he peered in the face Of his Lords.h.i.+p's Grace, With a satisfied look, as if he would say, ”We two are the greatest folks here to-day!”
And the priests with awe, as such freaks they saw, Said, ”The deuce must be in that little Jackdaw!”
The feast was over, the board was cleared, The flawns and the custards had all disappeared, And six little singing-boys--dear little souls In nice clean faces, and nice white stoles-- Came, in order due, two by two, Marching that grand refectory through!
A nice little boy held a golden ewer, Embossed and filled with water, as pure As any that flows between Rheims and Namur, Which a nice little boy stood ready to catch In a fine golden hand-basin made to match.
Two nice little boys, rather more grown, Carried lavender-water, and eau de Cologne; And a nice little boy had a nice cake of soap, Worthy of was.h.i.+ng the hands of the Pope.
One little boy more a napkin bore, Of the best white diaper, fringed with pink, And a Cardinal's hat marked in ”permanent ink.”
The great Lord Cardinal turns at the sight Of these nice little boys dressed all in white; From his finger he draws his costly turquoise: And, not thinking at all about little Jackdaws, Deposits it straight by the side of his plate, While the nice little boys on his Eminence wait; Till when n.o.body's dreaming of any such thing, That little Jackdaw hops off with the ring!
There's a cry and a shout, and a terrible rout, And n.o.body seems to know what they're about, But the monks have their pockets all turned inside out; The friars are kneeling, and hunting and feeling The carpet, the floor, and the walls, and the ceiling.
The Cardinal drew off each plum-colored shoe, And left his red stockings exposed to the view; He peeps, and he feels in the toes and the heels; They turn up the dishes, they turn up the plates, They take up the poker and poke out the grates, They turn up the rugs, they examine the mugs; But, no! no such thing,--they can't find THE RING!
The Cardinal rose with a dignified look, He called for his candle, his bell, and his book!
In holy anger and pious grief He solemnly cursed that rascally thief!
Never was heard such a terrible curse!
But what gave rise to no little surprise, n.o.body seemed one penny the worse!
The day was gone, the night came on, The monks and the friars they searched till dawn; When the sacristan saw, on crumpled claw, Come limping a poor little lame Jackdaw!
No longer gay, as on yesterday; His feathers all seemed to be turned the wrong way; His pinions drooped, he could hardly stand,-- His head was as bald as the palm of your hand; His eye so dim, so wasted each limb, Regardless of grammar, they all cried, ”THAT'S HIM!
That's the scamp that has done this scandalous thing, That's the thief that has got my Lord Cardinal's ring!”
The poor little Jackdaw, when the monks he saw, Feebly gave vent to the ghost of a caw; And turned his bald head as much as to say, ”Pray be so good as to walk this way!”
Slower and slower he limped on before, Till they came to the back of the belfry-door, Where the first thing they saw, Midst the sticks and the straw, Was the RING, in the nest of the little Jackdaw!
Then the great Lord Cardinal called for his book, And off that terrible curse he took; The mute expression served in lieu of confession, And, being thus coupled with full rest.i.tution, The Jackdaw got plenary absolution!
When these words were heard, the poor little bird Was so changed in a moment, 'twas really absurd: He grew slick and fat; in addition to that, A fresh crop of feathers came thick as a mat!
His tail waggled more even than before; But no longer it wagged with an impudent air, No longer he perched on the Cardinal's chair.
He hopped now about with a gait devout; At matins, at vespers, he never was out; And, so far from any more pilfering deeds, He always seemed telling the Confessor's beads.
If any one lied, or if any one swore, Or slumbered in prayer-time and happened to snore, That good Jackdaw would give a great ”Caw!”
As much as to say, ”Don't do so any more!”
While many remarked, as his manners they saw, That they never had known such a pious Jackdaw!
He long lived the pride of that country side, And at last in the order of sanct.i.ty died: When, as words were too faint his merits to paint, The Conclave determined to make him a Saint.