The Jackdaw of Rheims 589 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; So wasted each limb, That, heedless 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, Midst the sticks and the straw, Was the RING in the nest of that little Jackdaw! Then the great Lord Cardinal called for his book, The mute expression Served in lieu of confession, And, being thus coupled with full restitution, When these words were heard, That poor little bird Was so changed in a moment, 'twas really absurd; 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, With a gait devout; At matins, at vespers, he never was out; 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, Would give a great "Caw!" As much as to say, "Don't do so any more!" Of that country side, And at last in the odour of sanctity died; When, as words were too faint His merits to paint, The Conclave determined to make him a Saint; THE KNIGHT AND THE LADY THE Lady Jane was tall and slim, The Lady Jane was fair And Sir Thomas, her lord, was stout of limb, And they were a loving pair! And wherever they went, or wherever they came, The Knight and the Lady Far and wide, The people cried, All sorts of pleasure, and no sort of pain, To Sir Thomas the good, and the fair Lady Jane! Now Sir Thomas the good, be it well understood, He would pour by the hour, o'er a weed or a flower, 591 And moths, were of no small account in his eyes; Now as Lady Jane was tall and slim, And Lady Jane was fair. And a good many years the junior of him, There are some might be found entertaining a notion, And, to such a fair dame, Really demanded some sort of apology; Ever poking his nose into this, and to that At a gnat, or a bat, or a cat, or a rat, At great ugly things, all legs and wings, With nasty long tails, armed with nasty long stings. With the fair Lady Jane, Tout au contraire, no lady so fair, Or counting her spoons, and her crockery ware; Nay more; don't suppose With such doings as those This account of her merits must come to a close; Sat her kinsman, MacBride Captain Dugald MacBride, Royal Scots Fusiliers;- And there he'd be sitting, While she was a-knitting, Reading aloud, with a very grave look, Some very wise saw," from some very good book— No matter who came, It was always the same, The Captain was reading aloud to the dame, Till, from having gone through half the books on the shelf, They were almost as wise as Sir Thomas himself. Well it happened one day I really can't say The particular month;-but I think 'twas in May, 'Twas I know in the spring-time, when "nature looks gay," As the poet observes-and on tree-top and spray, The dear little dickey birds carol away, That the whole of the house was thrown into affright, It seems he had taken A light breakfast-bacon, An egg, a little broiled haddock-at most A round and a half of some hot buttered toast, The Knight and the Lady 593 And then, let me see, He had two, perhaps three Cups, with sugar and cream, of strong gunpowder tea,But no matter for that He had called for his hat, With the brim that I've said was so broad and so flat, Or the grass, when unearthing his worms or his grubs; He set out, poor dear soul!-but he never came back! Out its euphonous clang At five-folks kept early hours then-and the "last" Said the lady, "Dish up! Let the meal be served straight, And kept hot for Sir Thomas."-Captain Dugald said grace, Then set himself down in Sir Thomas' place. Wearily, wearily, all that night, That live-long night did the hours go by; And the Lady Jane, In grief and pain, She sat herself down to cry! And Captain MacBride, Who sat by her side, Though I really can't say that he actually cried, At least had a tear in his eye! As much as can well be expected, perhaps, very young fellows," for very "old chaps." What he'd got in his head, "Twould have been, "Poor old Duffer, he's certainly dead!" |