At Matins, at Vespers, he never was out;
And, so far from any more pilfering deeds,
He always seemed telling the Confessor's beads.
If any one lied, or if any one swore,

Or slumbered in prayer-time and happened to

snore,

That good Jackdaw

Would give a great "Caw!"

150

As much as to say, "Don't do so any more!" While many remarked, as his manners they saw, That they never had known such a pious Jack

66

He long lived the pride

Of that country side,

And at last in the odor of sanctity died;
When, as words were too faint

His merits to paint,

The Conclave determined to make him a

Saint.

And on newly-made Saints and Popes, as you

know,

160

It's the custom of Rome new names to bestow, So they cannonized him by the name of Jim

1840.

Crow!

Richard Harris Barham
(Thomas Ingoldsby, Esq.).

BRIEF EPICS AND TALES

THE DESTRUCTION OF

SENNACHERIB

THE Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold,

And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and

gold;

And the sheen of their spears was like stars on

the sea,

When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep

Galilee.

Like the leaves of the forest when Summer is

green,

That host with their banners at sunset were seen: Like the leaves of the forest when Autumn hath

blown,

That host on the morrow lay wither'd and

strown.

8

For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the

blast,

And breathed in the face of the foe as he pass'd; And the eyes of the sleepers wax'd deadly and

chill,

And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever

grew still!

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