Growing afraid, He calls to his aid A bandy-legg'd neighbour, a "_Tailor by trade_,"[58] Tells him his fears, Bids him lay by his shears, His thimble, his goose, and his needle, and hie With all possible speed to the Convent hard by, Requests him to say That he begs they'll all pray, Viz.: The whole pious brotherhood, Cleric and Lay, For the soul of an Old Woman clothed in grey, Who was just at that time in a very bad way, And he really believed couldn't last out the day;-- And to state his desire That some erudite Friar Would run over at once, and examine, and try her; For he thought he would find There was "something behind," A something that weigh'd on the Old Woman's mind,-- "In fact he was sure, from what fell from her tongue, That this little Old Woman had done something wrong." --Then he wound up the whole with this hint to the man, "Mind and pick out as holy a friar as you can!" Now I'd have you to know That this story of woe, Which I'm telling you, happen'd a long time ago; I can't say exactly _how_ long, nor, I own, What particular monarch was then on the throne, But 'twas here in Old England: and all that one knows is, It must have preceded the Wars of the Roses.[59] Inasmuch as the times Described in these rhymes Were as fruitful in virtues as ours are in crimes; And if 'mongst the Laity Unseemly gaiety Sometimes betray'd an occasional taint or two, At once all the Clerics Went into hysterics, While scarcely a convent but boasted its Saint or two; So it must have been long ere the line of the Tudors, As since then the breed Of Saints rarely indeed With their dignified presence have darken'd our pew doors. --Hence the late Mr. Froude, and the live Dr. Pusey We moderns consider as each worth a Jew's eye; Though Wiseman, and Dullman[60] combined against Newman, With Doctors and Proctors, and say he's no true man. --But this by the way.--The Convent I speak about Had Saints in scores--they said Mass week and week about; And the two now on duty were each, for their piety, "Second to none" in that holy society, And well might have borne Those words which are worn By our "_Nulli Secundus_" Club--poor dear lost muttons Of Guardsmen--on Club days, inscribed on their buttons.-- They would read, write, and speak Latin, Hebrew, and Greek, A radish-bunch munch for a lunch,--or a leek; Though scoffers and boobies Ascribe certain rubies That garnished the nose of the good Father Hilary To the overmuch use of Canary and Sillery, --Some said spirituous compounds of viler distillery-- Ah! little reck'd they That with Friars, who say Fifty _Paters_ a night, and a hundred a day, A very slight sustenance goes a great way-- Thus the consequence was that his colleague, Basilius