"To-morrow morning, with the rising sun, Go back unto your convent, nor refrain From fasting and from scourging, for you run Great danger to become an ass again, Since monkish flesh and asinine are one;Therefore be wise, nor longer here remain, Unless you wish the scourge should be applied By other hands, that will not spare your hide."When this the monk had heard, his color fled And then returned, like lightning in the air, Till he was all one blush from foot to head, And even the bald spot in his russet hair Turned from its usual pallor to bright red!
The old man was asleep upon his chair.
Then all retired, and sank into the deep And helpless imbecility of sleep.
They slept until the dawn of day drew near, Till the cock should have crowed, but did not crow, For they had slain the shining chanticleer And eaten him for supper, as you know.
The monk was up betimes and of good cheer, And, having breakfasted, made haste to go, As if he heard the distant matin bell, And had but little time to say farewell.
Fresh was the morning as the breath of kine;Odors of herbs commingled with the sweet Balsamic exhalations of the pine;A haze was in the air presaging heat;
Uprose the sun above the Apennine, And all the misty valleys at its feet Were full of the delirious song of birds, Voices of men, and bells, and low of herds.
All this to Brother Timothy was naught;
He did not care for scenery, nor here His busy fancy found the thing it sought;But when he saw the convent walls appear, And smoke from kitchen chimneys upward caught And whirled aloft into the atmosphere, He quickened his slow footsteps, like a beast That scents the stable a league off at least.
And as he entered though the convent gate He saw there in the court the ass, who stood Twirling his ears about, and seemed to wait, Just as he found him waiting in the wood;And told the Prior that, to alleviate The daily labors of the brotherhood, The owner, being a man of means and thrift, Bestowed him on the convent as a gift.
And thereupon the Prior for many days Revolved this serious matter in his mind, And turned it over many different ways, Hoping that some safe issue he might find;But stood in fear of what the world would say, If he accepted presents of this kind, Employing beasts of burden for the packs, That lazy monks should carry on their backs.
Then, to avoid all scandal of the sort, And stop the mouth of cavil, he decreed That he would cut the tedious matter short, And sell the ass with all convenient speed, Thus saving the expense of his support, And hoarding something for a time of need.
So he despatched him to the neighboring Fair, And freed himself from cumber and from care.
It happened now by chance, as some might say, Others perhaps would call it destiny, Gilbert was at the Fair; and heard a bray, And nearer came, and saw that it was he, And whispered in his ear, "Ah, lackaday!
Good father, the rebellious flesh, I see, Has changed you back into an ass again, And all my admonitions were in vain."The ass, who felt this breathing in his ear, Did not turn round to look, but shook his head, As if he were not pleased these words to hear, And contradicted all that had been said.
And this made Gilbert cry in voice more clear, "I know you well; your hair is russet-red;Do not deny it; for you are the same Franciscan friar, and Timothy by name."The ass, though now the secret had come out, Was obstinate, and shook his head again;Until a crowd was gathered round about To hear this dialogue between the twain;And raised their voices in a noisy shout When Gilbert tried to make the matter plain, And flouted him and mocked him all day long With laughter and with jibes and scraps of song.
"If this be Brother Timothy," they cried, "Buy him, and feed him on the tenderest grass;Thou canst not do too much for one so tried As to be twice transformed into an ass."So simple Gilbert bought him, and untied His halter, and o'er mountain and morass He led him homeward, talking as he went Of good behavior and a mind content.
The children saw them coming, and advanced, Shouting with joy, and hung about his neck,--Not Gilbert's, but the ass's,--round him danced, And wove green garlands where-withal to deck His sacred person; for again it chanced Their childish feelings, without rein or check, Could not discriminate in any way A donkey from a friar of Orders Gray.
"O Brother Timothy," the children said, "You have come back to us just as before;We were afraid, and thought that you were dead, And we should never see you any more."And then they kissed the white star on his head, That like a birth-mark or a badge he wore, And patted him upon the neck and face, And said a thousand things with childish grace.
Thenceforward and forever he was known As Brother Timothy, and led alway A life of luxury, till he had grown Ungrateful being stuffed with corn and hay, And very vicious.Then in angry tone, Rousing himself, poor Gilbert said one day "When simple kindness is misunderstood A little flagellation may do good."His many vices need not here be told;
Among them was a habit that he had Of flinging up his heels at young and old, Breaking his halter, running off like mad O'er pasture-lands and meadow, wood and wold, And other misdemeanors quite as bad;But worst of all was breaking from his shed At night, and ravaging the cabbage-bed.
So Brother Timothy went back once more To his old life of labor and distress;Was beaten worse than he had been before.
And now, instead of comfort and caress, Came labors manifold and trials sore;And as his toils increased his food grew less, Until at last the great consoler, Death, Ended his many sufferings with his breath.
Great was the lamentation when he died;
And mainly that he died impenitent;
Dame Cicely bewailed, the children cried, The old man still remembered the event In the French war, and Gilbert magnified His many virtues, as he came and went, And said: "Heaven pardon Brother Timothy, And keep us from the sin of gluttony."INTERLUDE
