Then burst from the mountain a splendour that quite Eclipsed, in its brilliance, the finest Bude light, And there stood St. Ermengarde, drest all in white, A palm-branch in her left hand, her beads in her right; While, with faces fresh gilt, and with wings burnish'd bright, A great many little boys' heads took their flight Above and around to a very great height, And seem'd pretty lively considering their plight, Since every one saw, With amazement and awe, They could never sit down, for they hadn't _de quoi_.-- All at the sight, From the knave to the knight, Felt a very unpleasant sensation, call'd fright; While the Saint, looking down, With a terrible frown, Said, "My Lords, you are done most remarkably brown!-- I am really ashamed of you both;--my nerves thrill At your scandalous conduct to poor, dear Odille! "Come, make yourselves scarce!--it is useless to say, You will gain nothing here by a longer delay. 'Quick! Presto! Begone!' as the conjurors say; For as to the Lady, I've stow'd her away In this hill, in a stratum of London blue clay; And I shan't, I assure you, restore her to-day Till you faithfully promise no more to say 'Nay,' But declare, 'If she will be a nun, why she may.' For this you've my word, and I never yet broke it, So put that in your pipe, my Lord Otto, and smoke it!-- One hint to your vassals,--a month at 'the Mill' Shall be nuts to what they'll get who worry Odille!" The Saint disappear'd as she ended, and so Did the little boys' heads, which, above and below, As I told you a very few stanzas ago, Had been flying about her, and jumping Jem Crow; Though, without any body, or leg, foot, or toe, How they managed such antics, I really don't know; Be that as it may, they all "melted like snow Off a dyke," as the Scotch say in sweet Edinbro'. And there stood the Count, With his men on the mount, Just like "twenty-four jackasses all on a row." What was best to be done--'twas a sad bitter pill-- But gulp it he must, or else lose his Odille. The lord of Alsace therefore alter'd his plan, And said to himself, like a sensible man, "I can't do as I would,--I must do as I can; It will not do to lie under any Saint's ban, For your hide, when you do, they all manage to tan, So Count Herman must pick up some Betsy or Nan, Instead of my girl,--some Sue, Polly, or Fan;-- If he can't get the corn he must do with the bran, And make shift with the pot if he can't have the pan." With such proverbs as these He went down on his knees, And said, "Blessed St. Ermengarde, just as you please-- They shall build a new convent,--I'll pay the whole bill, (Taking discount,) its Abbess shall be my Odille!"