Classic Poem

When Royalty was young and bold,
Ere, touch'd by Time, he had become —
If't is not civil to say old —
At least, a ci-devant jeune homme .

One evening, on some wild pursuit,
Driving along, he chanced to see
Religion, passing by on foot,
And took him in his vis-a-vis

This said Religion was a friar,
The humblest and the best of men,
Who ne'er had notion or desire
Of riding in a coach till then.

" I say " — quoth Royalty, who rather
Enjoy'd a masquerading joke —
" I say, suppose, my good old father,
You lend me, for a while, your cloak "

The friar consented — little knew
What tricks the youth had in his head;
Besides, was rather tempted, too,
By a laced coat he got in stead.

Away ran Royalty, slap-dash,
Scampering like mad about the town;
Broke windows — shiver'd lamps to smash,
And knock'd whole scores of watchmen down.

While naught could they whose heads were broke,
Learn of the " why " or the " wherefore, "
Except that 't was Religion's cloak
The gentleman, who crack'd them, wore.

Meanwhile, the Friar, whose head was turn'd
By the laced coat, grew frisky too —
Look'd big — his former habits spurn'd —
And storm'd about as great men do —

Dealt much in pompous oaths and curses —
Said " Damn you, " often, or as bad —
Laid claim to other people's purses —
In short, grew either knave or mad.

As work like this was unbefitting,
And flesh and blood no longer bore it,
The Court of Common Sense then sitting,
Summon'd the culprits both before it;

Where, after hours in wrangling spent
(As courts must wrangle to decide well),
Religion to St. Luke's was sent,
And Royalty pack'd off to Bridewell:

With this proviso — Should they be
Restored in due time to their senses,
They both must give security
In future, against such offenses —

Religion ne'er to lend his cloak ,
Seeing what dreadful work it leads to;
And Royalty to crack his joke —
But not to crack poor people's heads, too.