Perhaps you may think it a rather odd thing, That, while talking so much of the Court and the King, In describing the scene Through which we've just been, I've not said one syllable as to the Queen; Especially, too, as her Majesty's "Whereabouts," All things considered, might well be thought thereabouts; The fact was, however, although little known, _Sa Magestad_ had hit on a plan of her own, And suspecting, perhaps, that an _Auto_ alone Might fail in securing this "Heir to the throne," [Illustration: THE AUTO-DA-FÉ.] Had made up her mind, Although well inclined Towards _galas_ and shows of no matter what kind, For once to retire, And bribe the Saints higher Than merely by sitting and seeing a fire,-- A sight, after all, she did not much admire; So she locked herself up, Without platter or cup, In her Oriel, resolved not to take bite or sup, Not so much as her matin-draught (our "early purl"), Nor put on her jewels, nor e'en let the girl, Who help'd her to dress, take her hair out of curl, But to pass the whole morning in telling her beads, And in reading the lives of the Saints, and their deeds, And in vowing to visit, without shoes or sandals, Their shrines, with unlimited orders for candles, Holy water, and Masses of Mozart's, and Handel's.[30] And many a _Pater_, and _Ave_, and _Credo_ Did She, and her Father Confessor, Quevedo, (The clever Archbishop, you know, of Toledo,) Who came, as before, at a very short warning, Get through, without doubt, in the course of that morning; Shut up, as they were, With nobody there To at all interfere with so pious a pair; And the Saints must have been stony-hearted indeed, If they had not allow'd all these pains to succeed. Nay, it's not clear to me but their very ability Might, Spain throughout, Have been brought into doubt, Had the Royal bed still remain'd curs'd with sterility; St. Jago, however, who always is jealous In Spanish affairs, as their best authors tell us, And who, if he saw Anything like a flaw In Spain's welfare, would soon sing "Old Rose, burn the bellows!" Set matters to rights like a King of good fellows; By his interference, Three-fourths of a year hence, There was nothing but capering, dancing, and singing, Cachucas, Boleros, and bells set a ringing, In both the Castilles, Triple-bob-major peals, Rope-dancing, and tumbling, and somerset-flinging, Seguidillas, Fandangos, While ev'ry gun bang goes; And all the way through, from Gibraltar to Biscay, Figueras and Sherry make all the Dons frisky, (Save Moore's "Blakes and O'Donnells," who stick to the whisky;) All the day long The dance and the song Continue the general joy to prolong; And even long after the close of the day You can hear little else but "Hip! hip! hip! hurray!" The Escurial, however, is not quite so gay, For, whether the Saint had not perfectly heard