Indeed, it is said, a less taking both were in
       When, after a lapse of a great many years,
     They booked Uncle Toby five shillings for swearing,
       And blotted the fine out again with their tears!

     But St. Nicholas’s agony who may paint? 
       His senses at first were well-nigh gone;
     The beatified saint was ready to faint
       When he saw in his Abbey such sad goings on!

     For never, I ween, had such doings been seen
       There before, from the time that most excellent Prince,
     Earl Baldwin of Flanders, and other Commanders,
       Had built and endowed it some centuries since.

     —­But hark—­’tis a sound from the outermost gate: 
       A startling sound from a powerful blow.—­
     Who knocks so late?—­it is half after eight
       By the clock,—­and the clock’s five minutes too slow.

     Never, perhaps, had such loud double raps
       Been heard in St. Nicholas’s Abbey before;
     All agreed “it was shocking to keep people knocking,”
       But none seemed inclined to “answer the door.”

     Now a louder bang through the cloisters rang,
       And the gate on its hinges wide open flew;
     And all were aware of a Palmer there,
       With his cockle, hat, staff, and his sandal shoe.

     Many a furrow, and many a frown,
       By toil and time on his brow were traced;
     And his long loose gown was of ginger brown,
       And his rosary dangled below his waist.

     Now seldom, I ween, is such costume seen,
       Except at a stage-play or masquerade;
     But who doth not know it was rather the go
       With Pilgrims and Saints in the second Crusade?

     With noiseless stride did that Palmer glide
       Across that oaken floor;
     And he made them all jump, he gave such a thump
       Against the Refectory door!

     Wide open it flew, and plain to the view
       The Lord Abbot they all mote see;
     In his hand was a cup and he lifted it up,
       “Here’s the Pope’s good health with three!”

     Rang in their ears three deafening cheers,
       “Huzza! huzza! huzza!”
     And one of the party said, “Go it, my hearty!”—­
       When outspake that Pilgrim gray—­

     “A boon, Lord Abbot! a boon! a boon! 
       Worn is my foot, and empty my scrip;
     And nothing to speak of since yesterday noon
       Of food, Lord Abbot, hath passed my lip.

     “And I am come from a far countree,
       And have visited many a holy shrine;
     And long have I trod the sacred sod
       Where the Saints do rest in Palestine!”—­

     “An thou art come from a far countree,
       And if thou in Paynim lands hast been,
     Now rede me aright the most wonderful sight,
       Thou Palmer gray, that thine eyes have seen.