The Anglican Friar, and the Fish which he Took by Hook and by Crook. active 19th century Novice
A few words here—a passage there—
While now and then a page may share,
Destruction's touch, and need much skill
The space with likesome rhymes to fill.
Though some expense th' improvements make,
If you the task will undertake
I care not, and with gladness will
Repay you for your time and skill.
Through circumstance unfortunate
Destroyed have been the name and date
(If any there have been),
Yet still I traces here and there,
Which seem upon the tale to bear,
In many parts have seen.
I have not quite decided yet,
Whether to print it, or to let
It still reside in ink.
But you shall first the tale peruse
(Unless the office you refuse);
I'll hear then what you think."
"With pleasure, sir, I will comply
With your request; but really I
Cannot with honesty deny
My fear lest I should not supply
The skill you need; but still will try,
For now I have much leisure time,
And love exploring ancient rhyme."
With many thanks, he begg'd I'd with him dine.
"Now do not, sir, from etiquette, decline,
For afterwards together we will read
The tale, and judge how it had best proceed.
There's none but my housekeeper shares
The meal with me, and she up-stairs
Shall have her meat and pudding sent,
If that robs me of your consent.
Of course it is quite right of you
To seek excuse, but make them few,
I pray you, sir, for greatly I
Prefer unformal courtesy.
For what is fashion but a chain to bind
The wretch called man with tortures of some kind,—
The small-toed shoe, to grind his very corns,—
The wasted waist, which age for ever mourns,—
The bulging sleeve, which dives in ev'ry dish,
And trailing dress to raise the dust? I wish
The world would wiser grow. But, what's more strange
To me, is, though their fancies ever change
(Which shows they never can perfection reach),
They still their youth in copy slips will teach
That maxim immoral, you p'rhaps have heard them tell,
That 'to be out of fashion, one might just as well
Far out of the universe at a distance dwell.'
"But still, sir, fashions are of use
(Though I too smile at their abuse),
For shops are oft so overstocked
That trade would on the head be knocked,
If Fancy did not often range
And force his slaves their dress to change.
Some forms are also needful too,
In daily life; and strange, yet true,
You'll ever find when Form has flown
That Order soon will get o'erthrown,
And then how often rows arise
In thus disordered families.
The ladies, as 'tis merely form
To decorate at early morn,
Forget their tresses to unfurl
And paper-prisoned leave each curl.
In dressing-gown and sunk-heel'd shoe,
The master saunters into view
Long after breakfast has begun,
Whence stragglers leave as soon as done.
The infants, too, in disarray,
Tease till allowed to have their way,
As parents do not like, they say,
Formality in babes; while they,
Who will not nat'rally obey,
Think now, since taxes are so few,
The duty's off their parents too.
But open house and open heart,
Which would to all who need impart
Unbounded hospitality,
Has ever been the poet's song,
And shall continue so, as long
As they retain vitality."
"And gladly I your offer take
To dine, and hope your tale to make
Subject of immortality.
Then as in search of health I came,
Your skill the wand'rer shall reclaim
If he's in this locality."
A beggar here accosted him
And begged to drink his health.
I smiled to hear this Irish whim,
And pictured to myself
The tattered man, and host so trim,
As Poverty and Wealth.
But though he could not say him nay,
The honour did decline,—
"The wretch has drunk his health away,
And now he would drink mine."
Methought a brighter smile bedecked
The maiden's cheek when back I came;
She certainly did not expect
That he would bring me there again.
But sometimes we ourselves deceive,
As what we wish we oft believe.
The dinner and the lady flown,
We chatted o'er the wine.
But though his glass he left alone,
He would replenish mine.
At length he told his history,
And thus cleared up the mystery,
Which clothed him like a spell.
'Twas sad and touching though to hear
The anguish past of many a year,
Yet pleased his grief to tell
He seemed, for cheerfully he spoke,
Though