The Monk and Jew.

A Tale.

To make new Converts truly blest,
A Recipe — Probatum est.  —
Stern Winter, clad in frost and snow,
Had now forbad the streams to flow;
And skaited Peasants swiftly glide,
Like swallows, o’er the slippery tide:
When Mordecai (upon whose face
The synagogue you plain might trace)
Fortune with smiles deceitful bore
To a curst hole, but late skinn’d o’er.
Down plumps the Jew, and sinking found,
Tho’ deep the hole, the distant ground:
Rising, the friendly ice he caught,
Which kept him from the chilling draught;
He gasp’d — he yell’d a hideous cry,
No friendly hand, alas, was nigh,
Save a poor Monk, who quickly ran
To snatch from death the drowning man.
But when the holy father saw
A limb of the Mosaic law,
His hand outstretch’d he quickly withdrew,
“For Heav’n’s sake help!”  — exclaims the Jew.
“Turn christian first” the father cries.
“I’m froze to death”  — the Jew replies.
“Froze! quo the Monk — too soon you’ll know,
“There’s fire enough for Jews below:
“Renounce your unbelieving crew,
“And help is near”  — “I do — I do.”
“Damn all your brethren great and small”
“With all my heart,  — Oh, damn ’em all:
“Now help me out”  — “There’s something more,
“Kiss this blest cross, and Christ adore;”
“There, there — I Christ adore,”  — “’Tis well,
“Thus armed, defiance bid to Hell;
“And yet — another thing remains
“To guard against eternal pains;
“Do you our papal father hold
“Heav’n’s vicar? — and believe all told
“By holy church?”  — “I do, by G-d,
“One moment more I’m food for Cod;
“Drag, drag me out,  — I freeze,  — I die.”
“Your peace my friend is made on high;
“Full absolution here I give;
“Saint Peter will your soul receive:  —
“Wash’d clean from sin, and duly shriven
“New converts always go to heaven;
“No hour for death so fit as this;
“Thus — thus — I launch you into bliss.”
So said — the father in a trice
His convert launch’d beneath the ice.