However, he was bound in all courtesy to turn his attention now to the show which had been prepared in his honor, and which was really well enough worth seeing and hearing.  The English were, in those days, an altogether dramatic people; ready and able, as in Bideford that day, to extemporize a pageant, a masque, or any effort of the Thespian art short of the regular drama.  For they were, in the first place, even down to the very poorest, a well-fed people, with fewer luxuries than we, but more abundant necessaries; and while beef, ale, and good woollen clothes could be obtained in plenty, without overworking either body or soul, men had time to amuse themselves in something more intellectual than mere toping in pot-houses.  Moreover, the half century after the Reformation in England was one not merely of new intellectual freedom, but of immense animal good spirits.  After years of dumb confusion and cruel persecution, a breathing time had come:  Mary and the fires of Smithfield had vanished together like a hideous dream, and the mighty shout of joy which greeted Elizabeth’s entry into London, was the key-note of fifty glorious years; the expression of a new-found strength and freedom, which vented itself at home in drama and in song; abroad in mighty conquests, achieved with the laughing recklessness of boys at play.

So first, preceded by the waits, came along the bridge toward the town-hall a device prepared by the good rector, who, standing by, acted as showman, and explained anxiously to the bystanders the import of a certain “allegory” wherein on a great banner was depicted Queen Elizabeth herself, who, in ample ruff and farthingale, a Bible in one hand and a sword in the other, stood triumphant upon the necks of two sufficiently abject personages, whose triple tiara and imperial crown proclaimed them the Pope and the King of Spain; while a label, issuing from her royal mouth, informed the world that—­

     “By land and sea a virgin queen I reign,
     And spurn to dust both Antichrist and Spain.”

Which, having been received with due applause, a well-bedizened lad, having in his cap as a posy “Loyalty,” stepped forward, and delivered himself of the following verses:—­

     “Oh, great Eliza! oh, world-famous crew! 
     Which shall I hail more blest, your queen or you? 
     While without other either falls to wrack,
     And light must eyes, or eyes their light must lack. 
     She without you, a diamond sunk in mine,
     Its worth unprized, to self alone must shine;
     You without her, like hands bereft of head,
     Like Ajax rage, by blindfold lust misled. 
     She light, you eyes; she head, and you the hands,
     In fair proportion knit by heavenly hands;
     Servants in queen, and queen in servants blest;
     Your only glory, how to serve her best;
     And hers how best the adventurous might to guide,
     Which knows no check of foemen, wind, or tide,
     So fair Eliza’s spotless fame may fly
     Triumphant round the globe, and shake th’ astounded sky!”