The Bean-Feast

He was the man, Pope Sixtus, that Fifth, that swineherds son:     He knew the right thing, did it, and thanked God when t was done:     But of all he had to thank for, my fancy somehow leans     To thinking, what most moved him was a certain meal on beans.     For one day, as his wont was, in just enough disguise     As he went exploring wickedness, to see with his own eyes     If law had due observance in the citys entrail dark     As well as where, i the open, crime stood an obvious mark,     He chanced, in a blind alley, on a tumble-down once house     Now hovel, vilest structure in Rome the ruinous:     And, as his tact impelled him, Sixtus adventured bold,     To learn how lowliest subjects bore hunger, toil, and cold.     There sat they at high-supper man and wife, lad and lass,     Poor as you please, but cleanly all and carefree: pain that was     Forgotten, pain as sure to be let bide aloof its time,     Mightily munched the brave ones, what mattered gloom or grime?     Said Sixtus, Feast, my children! who works hard needs eat well.     Im just a supervisor, would hear what you can tell.     Do any wrongs want righting? The Father tries his best,     But, since hes only mortal, sends such as I to test     The truth of all thats told him, how folk like you may fare:     Come! only dont stop eating, when mouth has words to spare,     You, smiled he, play the spokesman, bell-wether of the flock!     Are times good, masters gentle? Your grievances unlock!     How of your work and wages? pleasures, if such may be,     Pains, as such are for certain. Thus smiling questioned he.     But somehow, spite of smiling, awe stole upon the group,     An inexpressible surmise: why should a priest thus stoop,     Pry into what concerned folk? Each visage fell. Aware,     Cries Sixtus interposing: Nay, children, have no care!     Fear nothing! Who employs me requires the plain truth. Pelf     Beguiles who should inform me: so, I inform myself.     See! And he drew his hood back, let the close vesture ope,     Showed face, and where on tippet the cross lay: t was the Pope.     Imagine the joyful wonder! How shall the like of us,     Poor souls, requite such blessing of our rude bean-feast? Thus,     Thus amply! laughed Pope Sixtus. I early rise, sleep late:     Who works may eat: they tempt me, your beans there: spare a plate!     Down sat he on the door-step: twas they this time said grace:     He ate up the last mouthful, wiped lips, and then, with face     Turned, heavenward, broke forth thankful: Not now, that earth obeys     Thy word in mine, that through me the peoples know Thy ways.     But that Thy care extendeth to Natures homely wants,     And, while mans mind is strengthened, Thy goodness nowise scants     Mans body of its cumlort, that I whom kings and queens     Crouch to, pick crumbs from off my table, reiish beans!     The thunders I but seem to launch, there plain Thy hand all see:     That I have appetite, digest, and thrive, that boons for me.