The Ingoldsby Legends; or, Mirth and MarvelsIngoldsby, Thomas
General
The Ingoldsby Legends; or, Mirth and Marvels
Ingoldsby, Thomas
English fiction -- 19th century; English poetry -- 19th century; English wit and humor; Humorous poetry, English
He was born on a cold frosty morning, on the 6th of December, (upon
which day his feast is still observed,) but in what _anno Domini_ is
not so clear; his baptismal register, together with that of his friend
and colleague, St. Thomas at Hill, having been "lost in the great fire
of London."
St. Nicholas was a great patron of Mariners, and, saving your
presence--of Thieves also, which honourable fraternity have long
rejoiced in the appellation of his "Clerks." Cervantes's story of
Sancho's detecting a sum of money in a swindler's walking-stick, is
merely the Spanish version of a "Lay of St. Nicholas," extant "in
choice Italian" a century before honest Miguel was born.
A LAY OF ST. NICHOLAS.
"Statim sacerdoti apparuit diabolus in specie puellæ pulchritudinis
miræ, et ecce Divus, fide catholicâ, et cruce, et aquâ benedicta
armatus venit, et aspersit aquam in nomine Sanctæ et Individuæ
Trinitatis, quam, quasi ardentem, diabolus, nequaquam sustinere
valens, mugitibus fugit."
ROGER HOVEDEN.
"Lord Abbot! Lord Abbot! I'd fain confess;
I am a-weary, and worn with woe;
Many a grief doth my heart oppress,
And haunt me whithersoever I go!"
On bended knee spake the beautiful Maid;
"Now lithe and listen, Lord Abbot, to me!"--
"Now naye, Fair Daughter," the Lord Abbot said,
"Now naye, in sooth it may hardly be;
"There is Mess Michael, and holy Mess John,
Sage Penitauncers I ween be they!
And hard by doth dwell, in St. Catherine's cell,
Ambrose, the anchorite old and grey!"
"--Oh, I will have none of Ambrose or John,
Though sage Penitauncers I trow they be;
Shrive me may none save the Abbot alone,
Now listen, Lord Abbot, I speak to thee.
"Nor think foul scorn, though mitre adorn
Thy brow, to listen to shrift of mine!
I am a Maiden royally born,
And I come of old Plantagenet's line.
"Though hither I stray, in lowly array,
I am a damsel of high degree;
And the Compte of Eu, and the Lord of Ponthieu,
They serve my father on bended knee!
"Counts a many, and Dukes a few,
A suitoring came to my father's Hall;
But the Duke of Lorraine, with his large domain,
He pleased my father beyond them all.
"Dukes a many, and Counts a few,
I would have wedded right cheerfullie;
But the Duke of Lorraine was uncommonly plain,
And I vow'd that he ne'er should my bridegroom be!
"So hither I fly, in lowly guise,
From their gilded domes and their princely halls;
Fain would I dwell in some holy cell,
Or within some Convent's peaceful walls!"
--Then out and spake that proud Lord Abbot,
"Now rest thee, Fair Daughter, withouten fear;
Nor Count nor Duke but shall meet the rebuke
Of Holy Church an he seek thee here:
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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