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| THE JACKDAW sat on the Cardinal’s chair! | |
| Bishop and abbot and prior were there; | |
| Many a monk, and many a friar, | |
| Many a knight, and many a squire, | |
| With a great many more of lesser degree,— | 5 |
| In sooth, a goodly company; | |
| And they serv’d the Lord Primate on bended knee. | |
| Never, I ween, | |
| Was a prouder seen, | |
| Read of in books, or dreamt of in dreams, | 10 |
| Than the Cardinal Lord Archbishop of Rheims! | |
| |
| In and out | |
| Through the motley rout, | |
| That little Jackdaw kept hopping about; | |
| Here and there | 15 |
| Like a dog in a fair, | |
| Over comfits and cates, | |
| And dishes and plates, | |
| Cowl and cope, and rochet and pall, | |
| Mitre and crosier! he hopp’d upon all! | 20 |
| With a saucy air, | |
| He perch’d on the chair | |
| Where, in state, the great Lord Cardinal sat, | |
| In the great Lord Cardinal’s great red hat; | |
| And he peer’d in the face | 25 |
| Of his Lordship’s Grace, | |
| With a satisfied look, as if he would say, | |
| “We two are the greatest folks here to-day!” | |
| And the priests, with awe, | |
| As such freaks they saw, | 30 |
| Said, “The Devil must be in that little Jackdaw!” | |
| The feast was over, the board was clear’d, | |
| The flawns and the custards had all disappear’d, | |
| And six little Singing-boys,—dear little souls! | |
| In nice clean faces, and nice white stoles, | 35 |
| Came in order due, | |
| Two by two, | |
| Marching that grand refectory through. | |
| A nice little boy held a golden ewer, | |
| Emboss’d and fill’d with water, as pure | 40 |
| As any that flows between Rheims and Namur, | |
| Which a nice little boy stood ready to catch | |
| In a fine golden hand-basin made to match. | |
| Two nice little boys, rather more grown, | |
| Carried lavender-water and eau-de-Cologne; | 45 |
| And a nice little boy had a nice cake of soap, | |
| Worthy of washing the hands of the Pope. | |
| One little boy more | |
| A napkin bore, | |
| Of the best white diaper, fringed with pink, | 50 |
| And a Cardinal’s hat mark’d in “permanent ink.” | |
| |
| The great Lord Cardinal turns at the sight | |
| Of these nice little boys dress’d all in white: | |
| From his finger he draws | |
| His costly turquoise; | 55 |
| And, not thinking at all about little Jackdaws, | |
| Deposits it straight | |
| By the side of his plate, | |
| While the nice little boys on his Eminence wait; | |
| Till, when nobody’s dreaming of any such thing, | 60 |
| That little Jackdaw hops off with the ring! | |
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| There ’s a cry and a shout, | |
| And a deuce of a rout, | |
| And nobody seems to know what they ’re about, | |
| But the monks have their pockets all turn’d inside out; | 65 |
| The friars are kneeling, | |
| And hunting, and feeling | |
| The carpet, the floor, and the walls, and the ceiling. | |
| The Cardinal drew | |
| Off each plum-color’d shoe, | 70 |
| And left his red stockings expos’d to the view: | |
| He peeps, and he feels | |
| In the toes and the heels; | |
| They turn up the dishes,—they turn up the plates,— | |
| They take up the poker and poke out the grates, | 75 |
| —They turn up the rugs, | |
| They examine the mugs: | |
| But no!—no such thing; | |
| They can’t find THE RING! | |
| And the Abbot declar’d that, “when nobody twigg’d it, | 80 |
| Some rascal or other had popp’d in and prigg’d it!” | |
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| The Cardinal rose with a dignified look, | |
| He call’d for his candle, his bell, and his book: | |
| In holy anger, and pious grief, | |
| He solemnly curs’d that rascally thief! | 85 |
| He curs’d him at board, he curs’d him in bed, | |
| From the sole of his foot to the crown of his head! | |
| He curs’d him in sleeping, that every night | |
| He should dream of the devil, and wake in a fright; | |
| He curs’d him in eating, he curs’d him in drinking, | 90 |
| He curs’d him in coughing, in sneezing, in winking; | |
| He curs’d him in sitting, in standing, in lying; | |
| He curs’d him in walking, in riding, in flying; | |
| He curs’d him in living, he curs’d him in dying! | |
| Never was heard such a terrible curse! | 95 |
| But what gave rise | |
| To no little surprise, | |
| Nobody seem’d one penny the worse! | |
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| The day was gone, | |
| The night came on, | 100 |
| The monks and the friars they search’d till dawn; | |
| When the sacristan saw, | |
| On crumpled claw, | |
| Come limping a poor little lame Jackdaw. | |
| No longer gay, | 105 |
| As on yesterday; | |
| His feathers all seem’d to be turn’d the wrong way; | |
| His pinions droop’d—he could hardly stand, | |
| His head was as bald as the palm of your hand; | |
| His eye so dim, | 110 |
| So wasted each limb, | |
| That, heedless of grammar, they all cried, | |
| “THAT ’S HIM! | |
| That ’s the scamp that has done this scandalous thing! | |
| That ’s the thief that has got my Lord Cardinal’s Ring!” | 115 |
| The poor little Jackdaw, | |
| When the monks he saw, | |
| Feebly gave vent to the ghost of a caw; | |
| And turn’d his bald head, as much as to say, | |
| “Pray, be so good as to walk this way!” | 120 |
| Slower and slower | |
| He limp’d on before, | |
| Till they came to the back of the belfry-door, | |
| Where the first thing they saw, | |
| Midst the sticks and the straw, | 125 |
| Was the RING, in the nest of that little Jackdaw. | |
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| Then the great Lord Cardinal call’d for his book, | |
| And off that terrible curse he took; | |
| The mute expression | |
| Serv’d in lieu of confession, | 130 |
| And, being thus coupled with full restitution, | |
| The Jackdaw got plenary absolution! | |
| —When those words were heard, | |
| That poor little bird | |
| Was so changed in a moment, ’t was really absurd. | 135 |
| He grew sleek and fat; | |
| In addition to that, | |
| A fresh crop of feathers came thick as a mat. | |
| His tail waggled more | |
| Even than before; | 140 |
| But no longer it wagg’d with an impudent air, | |
| No longer he perch’d on the Cardinal’s chair. | |
| He hopp’d now about | |
| With a gait devout; | |
| At matins, at vespers, he never was out; | 145 |
| And, so far from any more pilfering deeds, | |
| He always seem’d telling the Confessor’s beads. | |
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| If any one lied, or if any one swore, | |
| Or slumber’d in pray’r-time and happen’d to snore, | |
| That good Jackdaw | 150 |
| Would give a great “Caw!” | |
| As much as to say, “Don’t do so any more!” | |
| While many remark’d, as his manners they saw, | |
| That they “never had known such a pious Jackdaw!” | |
| He long liv’d the pride | 155 |
| Of that country side, | |
| And at last in the odor of sanctity died; | |
| When, as words were too faint | |
| His merits to paint, | |
| The Conclave determin’d to make him a Saint; | 160 |
| And on newly-made Saints and Popes, as you know, | |
| It ’s the custom, at Rome, new names to bestow, | |
| So they canoniz’d him by the name of Jem Crow! | |
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