Then off he set, with nimble shanks,
Nor once turned back to give her thanks:
A hue and cry the thief pursued,
Who, to his cost, soon understood
That he was not beyond the claw
Of that same long-armed giant, christened Law.
With horror did his judges quake—
As for the tender-conscienced jury,
They doomed him quickly to the stake,
Such was their devilish pious fury.
However, after calling him hard names,
They asked if aught he had in vindication,
To save his wretched body from the flames,
And sinful soul from terrible damnation.
The Soldier answered them with much sang froid,
Which showed, of sin, a conscience void,
That if they meant to kill him they might kill:
As for the diamond which they found about him,
He hoped they would by no means doubt him,
That madam gave it him from pure good-will.
The answer turned both judge and jury pale;
The punishment was for a time deferred,
Until his Holiness should hear the tale,
And his infallibility be heard.
The Pope, to all his counselors, made known
This strange affair—to cardinals and friars,
Good pious gentlemen, who ne'er were known
To act like hypocrites, and thieves, and liars.
The question now was banded to and fro,
If Mary had the power to GIVE, or NO.
That Mary COULD NOT give it, was to say
The wonder-working lady wanted power—
This was the stumbling-block that stopped the way—
This made Pope, cardinals, and friars lower.
To save the Virgin's credit,
And keep secure the diamonds that were left;
They said, she MIGHT, indeed, the gem bestow,
And consequently it might be no theft:
But then they passed immediately an act,
That every one discovered in the fact
Of taking presents from the Virgin's hand,
Or from the saints of any land,
Should know no mercy, but be led to slaughter,
Flayed here, and fried eternally hereafter.
Ladies, I deem the moral much too clear
To need poetical assistance;
Which bids you not let men approach too near,
But keep the saucy fellows at a distance;
Since men you find, so bold, are apt to seize
Jewels from ladies, even upon their knees!