Round they went. Scarce had they turned the corner when a titter Like the skipping of rabbits by moonlight--three slim shapes, And a face that looked up ... zooks, sir, flesh and blood, 60 That's all I'm made of! Into shreds it went, Curtain and counterpane and coverlet, All the bed-furniture--a dozen knots, There was a ladder! Down I let myself, Hands and feet, scrambling somehow, and so dropped, 65 And after them. I came up with the fun Hard by Saint Laurence, hail fellow, well met-- _Flower o' the rose,_ _If I've been merry, what matter who knows?_ And so I was stealing back again 70 To get to bed and have a bit of sleep Ere I rise up tomorrow and go work On Jerome knocking at his poor old breast With his great round stone to subdue the flesh, You snap me of the sudden. Ah, I see! 75 Though your eye twinkles still, you shake your head-- Mine's shaved--a monk, you say--the sting's in that! If Master Cosimo announced himself, Mum's the word naturally; but a monk! Come, what am I a beast for? tell us, now! 80 I was a baby when my mother died And father died and left me in the street. I starved there, God knows how, a year or two On fig-skins, melon-parings, rinds and shucks, Refuse and rubbish. One fine frosty day, 85 My stomach being empty as your hat, The wind doubled me up and down I went. Old Aunt Lapaccia trussed me with one hand (Its fellow was a stinger as I knew), And so along the wall, over the bridge, 90 By the straight cut to the convent. Six words there, While I stood munching my first bread that month: "So, boy, you've minded," quoth the good fat father, Wiping his own mouth--'twas refection-time-- "To quit this very miserable world? 95 Will you renounce" ... "the mouthful of bread?" thought I; By no means! Brief, they made a monk of me; I did renounce the world, its pride and greed, Palace, farm, villa, shop, and banking-house, Trash, such as these poor devils of Medici 100 Have given their hearts to--all at eight years old. Well, sir, I found in time, you may be sure, 'Twas not for nothing--the good bellyful, The warm serge and the rope that goes all round, And day-long blessed idleness beside! 105 "Let's see what the urchin's fit for"--that came next. Not overmuch their way, I must confess. Such a to-do! They tried me with their books; Lord, they'd have taught me Latin in pure waste! _Flower o' the clove,_ 110 _All the Latin I construe is "amo," I love!_ But, mind you, when a boy starves in the streets Eight years together, as my fortune was,