His left shows the door, and he seems to say, 'Sir King,
Your most faithful Commons won't hear of your shirking |
Quit your tea, and return to your Barelai and Perkyn.
Or, by Jingo[1], ere morning, no longer alive, a
Sad victim you'll lie to your love for Elgiva!'
No farther to treat
Of this ungallant feat,
What I mean to do now is succinctly to paint
One particular fact in the life of the Saint,
Which somehow, for want of due care, I presume,
Has escaped the researches of Rapin and Hume,
In recounting a miracle, both of them men, who a
Great deal fall short of Jacques, Bishop of Genoa,
An Historian who likes deeds like these to record-
See his Aurea Legenda, by ynkyn de orde.
St. Dunstan stood again in his tower,
Alembic, crucible, all complete;
He had been standing a good half-hour,
And now he utter'd the words of power,
And call'd to his Broomstick to bring him a seat.
The words of power!-and what be they
To which c'en Broomsticks bow and obey?-
Why, 'twere uncommonly hard to say,
As the prelate I named has recorded none of them,
- ↑ St. Jinge, or Gengo (Gengulphus), sometimes styled 'The Living Tingo, from the great tenaciousness of vitality exhibited by his severed members. See his Legend, as recorded hereafter in the present volume.
