| |
| NEAR Clapham village, where fields began, | |
| Saint Edward met a beggar man. | |
| It was Christmas morning, the church bells tolled, | |
| The old man trembled for the fierce cold. | |
| |
| Saint Edward cried, “It is monstrous sin | 5 |
| A beggar to lie in rags so thin! | |
| An old gray-beard and the frost so keen: | |
| I shall give him my fur-lined gaberdine.” | |
| |
| He stripped off his gaberdine of scarlet | |
| And wrapped it round the aged varlet, | 10 |
| Who clutched at the folds with a muttered curse, | |
| Quaking and chattering seven times worse. | |
| |
| Said Edward, “Sir, it would seem you freeze | |
| Most bitter at your extremities. | |
| Here are gloves and shoes and stockings also, | 15 |
| That warm upon your way you may go.” | |
| |
| The man took stocking and shoe and glove, | |
| Blaspheming Christ our Saviour’s love, | |
| Yet seemed to find but little relief, | |
| Shaking and shivering like a leaf. | 20 |
| |
| Said the saint again, “I have no great riches, | |
| Yet take this tunic, take these breeches, | |
| My shirt and my vest, take everything, | |
| And give due thanks to Jesus the King.” | |
| |
| The saint stood naked upon the snow | 25 |
| Long miles from where he was lodged at Bowe, | |
| Praying, “O God! my faith, it grows faint! | |
| This would try the temper of any saint. | |
| |
| “Make clean my heart, Almighty, I pray, | |
| And drive these sinful thoughts away. | 30 |
| Make clean my heart if it be Thy will, | |
| This damned old rascal’s shivering still!” | |
| |
| He stooped, he touched the beggar man’s shoulder; | |
| He asked him did the frost nip colder? | |
| “Frost!” said the beggar, “no, stupid lad! | 35 |
| ’Tis the palsy makes me shiver so bad.” | |
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