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Bentley's Miscellany, Volume II
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And now the town, that would be made
Illustrious beyond measure,
Was all alive with gay parade
To welcome such a treasure.
The bishop, in his robes of state,
Each monk and priest attending,
Stood rev'rently within the gate
To view the train descending;
The holy train that far had gone
To meet the sacred relic,
And now with joyous hymns came on,
Most like a band angelic.
The nuns the splendid robes prepare,
Each chain, and flower, and feather;
And now they claim the surgeon's care
To join the bones together.
The head, the arms, the trunk, he found,
And placed in due rotation;
But, when the legs he reached, around
He stared in consternation!
In vain he twirl'd them both about,
Took one, and then took t'other,
For one turn'd in, and one turn'd out,
Still following his brother.
Two odd left legs alone he saw,
Two left legs! 'tis amazing!
"Two left legs!" cried the nuns, with awe
And anxious wonder gazing.
The wonder reach'd the listening crowd,
And all the cry repeated;
While some press'd on with laughter loud,
And some in fear retreated.
The bishop scarce a smile repress'd,
The pilgrims stood astounded;
The mob, with many a gibe and jest,
The holy bones surrounded.
The abbess and her vestal train,
The blest Annunciation,
With horror saw the threaten'd stain
On Pius' reputation.
"Cease, cease! ungrateful race!" cried she,
"This tumult and derision,
And know the truth has been to me
Revealed in a vision!
"The saint who now, enthron'd in heav'n,
Bestows on us such glory,
Had two left legs by Nature given,
And, lo! they are before ye!
"Then let us hope he will no more
His blessed prayers deny us,
While we, with zeal elate, adore
The left legs of St. Pius."
C.S.L.
DARBY THE SWIFT;
OR,
THE LONGEST WAY ROUND IS THE SHORTEST WAY HOME
CHAPTER III
"Tipsy dance and jollity." —L'Allegro
A full hour after Darby's departure I ventured to open the little dog-eared volume which he had thrown upon my table. The title-page was a curious specimen of that lingual learning which is so often to be met with in the remotest districts of Ireland. Gentle reader, a description of it would only spoil it; I therefore lay it before you as it appeared to me then, with this slight difference, – that the printer informs me he has no letter that can adequately express or imitate the rustic simplicity, the careless elegance both of the character and setting up. It was as follows:
THE DARBIAD!
A BACCHI-SALTANT EPIC. IN ONE BOOK
AUCTORE CLAUDICANTE KELLIO
Containing an Account of a Great Festival given at "The Three Blacks," by one Mr. Darby Ryan, on the occasion of his coming into his Fortune, and all the Songs an' Dances as perform'd there in honor to him.
Dulce est desipere in loco
Printed by Mary Brady, Xher mark, at the sign of the Cross Quills in Monk's Lane, opposit the Friary. Price sixpence; and to be had of all Flyin' Stationers, and Dancin' Masthers.
I could not but admire the classical taste and ingenuity with which Mr. Kelly, the author, had Latinized his name. He had read, no doubt, that Ovid was called Naso from the excessive size of his nose; and, with a delicacy peculiar to himself, had elegantly concealed the vulgar cognomen of Lame Kelly, – by which he was known, – in the more pompous-sounding Roman appellation of Claudicante! Kellio, too, was another "curiosa felicitas;" for, while it was in perfect accordance with grammatical accuracy, it sounded like an ingenious anagram of O'Kelly, an ancient Irish name. But, to the poem itself.
INVOCATION
Inspire me, Phœbus! in the song I sing,
And to my aid the nine twin-sisters bring;
No common deeds I celebrate or praise —
Darby the Swift is hero of my lays!
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