The May'r and his _suite_ Are soon on their feet,-- (His worship kept house in the very same street,--) At once he awakes, "His compliments" makes, "He'll be up at the Church in a couple of shakes!" Meanwhile the whole Convent is pulling and hauling, And bawling and squalling, And terribly mauling The thief whose endeavour to follow his calling Had thus brought him into a grasp so enthralling.-- Now high, now low, They drag "to and fro,"-- Now this way, now that way they twist him--but--No!-- The glazed eye of St. Aloys distinctly says "Poh! You may pull as you please, I shall _not_ let him go!" Nay, more;--when his Worship at length came to say He was perfectly ready to take him away, And fat him to grace the next _Auto-da-fé_, Still closer he prest The poor wretch to his breast, While a voice--though his jaws still together were jamm'd-- Was heard from his chest, "If you do, I'll----" here slamm'd The great door of the Church,--with so awful a sound That the close of the good Bishop's sentence was drown'd! Out spake _Frère Jehan_, A pitiful man, Oh! a pitiful man was he! And he wept, and he pined For the sins of mankind, As a Friar in his degree. "Remember, good gentlefolks," so he began, "Dear Aloys was always a pitiful man!-- That voice from his chest Has clearly exprest He has pardoned the culprit--and as for the rest, Before you shall burn him--he'll see you all blest!" The Monks, and the Abbot, the Sexton, and Clerk Were exceedingly struck with the Friar's remark, And the Judge, who himself was by no means a shark Of a Lawyer, and who did not do things in the dark, But still leaned (having once been himself a gay spark,) To the merciful side,--like the late Alan Park,-- Agreed that, indeed, The best way to succeed, And by which this poor caitiff alone could be freed, Would be to absolve him, and grant a free pardon, On a certain condition, and that not a hard one, Viz.--"That he, the said Infidel, straightway should ope His mind to conviction, and worship the Pope, And 'ev'ry man Jack' in an amice or cope;-- And that, to do so, He should forthwith go To Rome, and salute there his Holiness' toe;-- And never again Read Voltaire, or Tom Paine, Or Percy Bysshe Shelley, or Lord Byron's Cain;-- His pilgrimage o'er, take St. Francis's habit;-- If anything lay about, never to 'nab' it;-- Or, at worst, if he _should_ light on articles gone astray, To be sure and deposit them safe in the Monast'ry!" The oath he took-- --As he kiss'd the book, Nave, transept, and aisle with a thunder-clap shook! The Bishop sank down with a satisfied look, And the Thief, releas'd By the Saint deceas'd, Fell into the arms of a neighbouring Priest!