THE LEGEND. PART IV, AND now, my little listening dears Pierre went on to Compostella To finish his pilgrimage, His parents went back with him joyfully, After which they returned to their own country; And there, I believe, that all the three Lived to a good old age. For the gallows on which Pierre It was resolved that never more On it should man be hung. To the Church it was transplanted, As ancient books declare: What became of the halter I know not, For in his family, and this The Innkeeper's wicked daughter The Alcayde had been so frighten'd Wherever he sat at table Not an egg might there be placed; And he never even muster'd courage for a custard, Though garlic tempted him to taste Of an omelet now and then. But always after such a transgression And the Priest had absolved him, did he feel The twice-born Birds to the Pilgrim's Church, Were given; and there unto the Saint At their dedication the Corporation And after following the Saint and his banners, This Cock and Hen were so changed in their manners, That the Priests were edified. Gentle as any turtle-dove, Saint Cock became all meekness and love; Saint Hen she never peck'd again, The ways of ordinary fowls You must know they had clean forsaken; Why then... the Spaniards would have had These blessed Fowls, at seven years end, And lest the fact should be forgotten, 'T was decreed, in honour of their worth, That a Cock and Hen should be borne thenceforth In the arms of that ancient City. Two eggs Saint Hen had laid, no more; A Cock and Hen they proved, And both, like their parents, were virtuous and white. The last act of the Holy Hen Was to rear this precious brood; and, when They also lived seven years, From which two milk-white chicken And always their posterity The self-same course pursue. Not one of these eggs ever addled, Not one of them ever was lost, Sacred they are; neither magpie, nor rat, Snake, weasel, nor marten approaching them: And woe to the irreverent wretch Who should even dream of poaching them! Thus then is this great miracle And to their Church all Pilgrims go, And some of the feathers are given them; No price is set upon them, But that the more they give the better, Is Seeing whatever is thus disposed of, Is for their own souls' good; For Santiago will always Befriend his true believers ; And the money is for him, the Priests |