"Truly," sigh'd Gawaine, "but the holy water!" 39 "No," cried the Prelate, "ineffective here. Try, but not now, a simple _noster-pater_, Or chaunt a hymn. I dare not interfere; Act for yourself--and say your catechism; Were I to meddle, it would cause a schism." "A schism!"--"The church, though always in the right, 40 Holds two opinions, both extremely able; This makes the rubric rest on gowns of white, That makes the church itself depend on sable; Were I to exorcise that raven-back 'Twould favour white, and raise the deuce in black.[3] "Depart my son--at once, depart, I pray, 41 Pay up your dues, and keep your mind at ease, And call that creature--no, the other way-- When fairly out, a _credo_, if you please;-- Go,--_pax vobiscum_;--shut the door I beg, And stay;--On Friday, flogging,--with an egg!" Out went the knight, more puzzled than before; 42 And out, unsprinkled, flew the Stygian bird; The bishop rose, and doubly lock'd the door; His pen he mended, and his fire he stirr'd; Then solved that problem--"Pons Diaconorum," White equals black, plus x y botherorum. So through the postern stole the troubled knight; 43 Still as he rode, from forest, mount, and vale, Rung lively horns, and in the morning light Flash'd the sheen banderoll, and the pomp of mail, The welcome guests of War's blithe festival, Keen for the feast, and summon'd to the hall. Curt answer gave the knight to greeting gay, 44 And none to taunt from scurril churl unkind, Oft asking, "if he did mistake the way?"-- Or hinting, "war was what he left behind;" As noon came on, such sights and comments cease, Lone through the pastures rides the knight in peace. Grave as a funeral mourner rode Gawaine-- 45 The bird went first in most indecent glee, Now lost to sight, now gamb'ling back again-- Now munch'd a beetle, and now chaced a bee-- Now pluck'd the wool from meditative lamb, Now pick'd a quarrel with a lusty ram. Sharp through his visor, Gawaine watch'd the thing, 46 With dire misgivings at that impish mirth: Day wax'd--day waned--and still the dusky wing Seem'd not to find one resting-place on earth. "Saints," groan'd Gawaine, "have mercy on a sinner, And move that devil--just to stop for dinner!" The bird turn'd round, as if it understood. 47 Halted the wing, and seem'd awhile to muse; Then dives at once into a dismal wood, And grumbling much, the hungry knight pursues, To hear (and hearing, hope once more revives), Sweet-clinking horns, and gently-clashing knives.