And from the pathway-side then turnèd he,
Where the poor beggar lay beneath the holmen tree.
“An alms, sir priest!” the drooping pilgrim said,
“For sweet Saint Mary and your order’s sake.”
The Limitor then loosened his pouch-thread,
And did thereout a groat of silver take:
The needy pilgrim did for gladness shake,
“Here, take this silver, it may ease thy care,
We are God’s stewards all, naught of our own we bear.
“But ah! unhappy pilgrim, learn of me.