When a beggar once crouched in need,
I flung him my priestly stole,
And the people did laud the deed,
Withholding the while their dole:
Then I closed my lips on a curse,
Like a scorpion curled within,
On such cheap charity. Worse
Was even than theirs, my sin!
And once when a royal hand
Brake bread for the Christ's sweet grace,