The Ingoldsby Legends or, Mirth and Marvels. By Thomas Ingoldsby [i.e. R. H. Barham] |
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 | The Ingoldsby Legends |  |
Ay, 'tis a comely sight to behold,
As the company march
Through the rounded arch
Of that Cathedral old!—
Singers behind 'em, and singers before 'em,
All of them ranging in due decorum,
Around the inside of the Sanctum Sanctorum,
While, brilliant and bright, An unwonted light
(I forgot to premise this was all done at night)
The links, and the torches, and flambeaux shed
On the sculptured forms of the Mighty Dead,
That rest below, mostly buried in lead,
And above, recumbent in grim repose,
With their mailed hose,
And their dogs at their toes,
And little boys kneeling beneath them in rows,
Their hands join'd in pray'r, all in very long clothes,
With inscriptions on brass, begging each who survives,
As they some of them seem to have led so-so lives,
To Praie for the Sowles of themselves and their wives.—
—The effect of the music, too, really was fine,
When they let the good prelate down into his shrine,
And by old and young The “Requiem” was sung;
Not vernacular French, but a classical tongue,
That is—Latin—I don't think they meddled with Greek—
In short, the whole thing produced—so to speak—
What in Blois they would call a Coup d'œil magnifique!
As the company march
Through the rounded arch
Of that Cathedral old!—
Singers behind 'em, and singers before 'em,
All of them ranging in due decorum,
Around the inside of the Sanctum Sanctorum,
While, brilliant and bright, An unwonted light
(I forgot to premise this was all done at night)
The links, and the torches, and flambeaux shed
On the sculptured forms of the Mighty Dead,
That rest below, mostly buried in lead,
175
With their mailed hose,
And their dogs at their toes,
And little boys kneeling beneath them in rows,
Their hands join'd in pray'r, all in very long clothes,
With inscriptions on brass, begging each who survives,
As they some of them seem to have led so-so lives,
To Praie for the Sowles of themselves and their wives.—
—The effect of the music, too, really was fine,
When they let the good prelate down into his shrine,
And by old and young The “Requiem” was sung;
Not vernacular French, but a classical tongue,
That is—Latin—I don't think they meddled with Greek—
In short, the whole thing produced—so to speak—
What in Blois they would call a Coup d'œil magnifique!
| The Ingoldsby Legends | |