THE MODERN LADY GODIVA.
I journeyed by the train to Coventry;
I pleased a groom with porter near the bridge,
And asked which way the pageant came; and then
I saw it pass—'twas passing strange—and this
Is what they've turned the City's legend to.
Not even were it to remove a tax
Could a Godiva ride abroad to-day
As she rode forth a thousand summers back:
Lord Campbell's Act, and Collette both forbid!
Still did the people clamour for a show;
So was it settled there should be forthwith
A pageant such as Coventry did love.
Whence came it that, whilst yet the sunny moon
Of roses showed her crescent horn; the day
Fix'd for the pageant dawn'd on Coventry;
And Sanger—he of circus fame—arose
Betimes; for much was on his mind. Perchance
An elephant had shed its trunk; perchance
Some giant camel had "the hump" too much;
Or piebald horse had moulted all its spots.
Most feared he, though, lest she who had agreed
To act Godiva, having slept on it,
Should from her bargain flinch; so sought he her
With, "Well, and ride you through the town to-day?"
And she—for eggs and toast had made her bold—
"Ay, that will I!" Then he: "'Tis well!" and went
And whistled as he walked.
She, left alone,
When the effect of eggs and toast had gone,
Did half repent her promise; then again
Thought of her fee, and so grew bold once more.
And as she sat, rejoicing that 'twas warm,
There came the sound of trumpet and of drum,
And driving past she saw the circus car,
And on it was a placard calling all
Good people to come forth and gaze at her.
Then knew she that undressing time had come,
So sped her to the inner room, and there
Unhook'd the clinging bodice of her frock,
Hair-pinned on locks to show'r down to her knee,
Donned the rose "fleshings" that she was to wear;
Then throwing on a shawl she waited there
Till such time as they brought her palfrey, trapt
In purple, blazoned with armorial gold.
So came at last the sound of pattering hoofs,
And up the stairs a voice, "The 'oss is come!"
And tripping to the door she found a steed,
Milk-white and bony, meek, and pink of eye,
And with a chair and Mr. Sanger's help
Clomb on his back, and then one bang'd a door
And shouted, "Right!" and so the charger past.
Thus rode she forth, clothed on with scantiness,
And in the pageant duly took her place,
Along with camels and with elephants
And men-in-armour, weakest at the knee,
And Foresters with horns that wouldn't blow,
And clumsy bows, and Odd-fellows as well,
In fool regalia; and the Volunteers,
And Fire Brigade, and several brazen bands.
But chiefly 'twas on her all eyes were fix'd,
And women wondered what she could have got
For making of herself a show; and men
Opined that cotton wool she'd freely used;
And one low churl, compact of thankless earth,
Drawing a pin and rushing at her horse
Prick'd—but it was no good, the steed jogged on
As theretofore: and thanks to frequent bangs
And shouts of "Right" did reach the end at last
Of the day's progress, much to its delight.
And she was glad, and hastening to her room
She slipp'd her garments on, and issuing claim'd
Her fee, and took the earliest train to town,
And in the ballet, in the foremost row,
Danced with her fellows, winning great renown,
As one who rode through Coventry in "tights,"
And built herself an evanescent name.