Читать книгу The Humorous Poetry of the English Language; from Chaucer to Saxe - Various - Страница 70

A brace of sinners, for no good,

Were order'd to the Virgin Mary's shrine,

Who at Loretto dwelt, in wax, stone, wood,

And in a fair white wig look'd wondrous fine.

Fifty long miles had those sad rogues to travel,

With something in their shoes much worse than gravel

In short, their toes so gentle to amuse,

The priest had order'd peas into their shoes:

A nostrum famous in old Popish times

For purifying souls that stunk of crimes:

A sort of apostolic salt,

Which Popish parsons for its powers exalt,

For keeping souls of sinners sweet,

Just as our kitchen salt keeps meat.

The knaves set off on the same day,

Peas in their shoes, to go and pray:

But very diff'rent was their speed, I wot:

One of the sinners gallop'd on,

Swift as a bullet from a gun;

The other limp'd, as if he had been shot.

One saw the Virgin soon—peccavi cried—

Had his soul white-wash'd all so clever;

Then home again he nimbly hied,

Made fit, with saints above, to live forever.

In coming back, however, let me say,

He met his brother rogue about half way—

Hobbling, with out-stretch'd hands and bending knees;

Damning the souls and bodies of the peas:

His eyes in tears, his cheeks and brows in sweat,

Deep sympathizing with his groaning feet.

"How now," the light-toed, white-washed pilgrim broke

"You lazy lubber! 'Ods curse it," cried the other, "'tis no joke—

My feet, once hard as any rock,

Are now as soft as any blubber.

"Excuse me, Virgin Mary, that I swear—

As for Loretto I shall not get there;

No! to the Dev'l my sinful soul must go,

For damme if I ha'nt lost ev'ry toe.

"But, brother sinner, pray explain

How 'tis that you are not in pain:

What pow'r hath work'd a wonder for YOUR toes:

While I, just like a snail am crawling, Now swearing, now on saints devoutly bawling, While not a rascal comes to ease my woes?

"How is't that YOU can like a greyhound go,

Merry, as if that naught had happen'd, burn ye?"

"Why," cried the other, grinning, "you must know,

That just before I ventur'd on my journey,

To walk a little more at ease,

I took the liberty to boil MY peas.'"