The Path to Rome Part 26

It was the Gate of the Poplar--not of the People. (Ho, Pedant! Did you think I missed you, hiding and lurking there?) Many churches were to hand; I took the most immediate, which stood just within the wall and was called Our Lady of the People--(not 'of the Poplar'. Another fall for the learned! Professor, things go ill with you to-day!). Inside were many fine pictures, not in the niminy-piminy manner, but strong, full-coloured, and just.

To my chagrin, Ma.s.s was ending. I approached a priest and said to him:

_'Pater, quando vel a quella hora e la prossimma Missa?'_

_'Ad nonas,'_ said he.

_'Pol! Hercle!'_ (thought I), 'I have yet twenty minutes to wait!

Well, as a pilgrimage cannot be said to be over till the first Ma.s.s is heard in Rome, I have twenty minutes to add to my book.'

So, pa.s.sing an Egyptian obelisk which the great Augustus had n.o.bly dedicated to the Sun, I entered....

LECTOR. But do you intend to tell us nothing of Rome?

AUCTOR. Nothing, dear Lector.

LECTOR. Tell me at least one thing; did you see the Coliseum?

AUCTOR.... I entered a cafe at the right hand of a very long, straight street, called for bread, coffee, and brandy, and contemplating my books and wors.h.i.+pping my staff that had been friends of mine so long, and friends like all true friends inanimate, I spent the few minutes remaining to my happy, common, unshriven, exterior, and natural life, in writing down this

LOUD AND FINAL SONG

DITHYRAMBIC EPITHALAMIUM OR THRENODY

In these boots, and with this staff Two hundred leaguers and a half--

(That means, two and a half hundred leagues. You follow? Not two hundred and one half league.... Well--)

Two hundred leaguers and a half Walked I, went I, paced I, tripped I, Marched I, held I, skelped I, slipped I, Pushed I, panted, swung and dashed I; Picked I, forded, swam and splashed I, Strolled I, climbed I, crawled and scrambled, Dropped and dipped I, ranged and rambled; Plodded I, hobbled I, trudged and tramped I, And in lonely spinnies camped I, And in haunted pinewoods slept I, Lingered, loitered, limped and crept I, Clambered, halted, stepped and leapt I; Slowly sauntered, roundly strode I,

_And_... (Oh! Patron saints and Angels That protect the four evangels!

And you Prophets vel majores Vel incerti, vel minores, Virgines ac confessores Chief of whose peculiar glories Est in Aula Regis stare Atque orare et exorare Et clamare et conclamare Clamantes c.u.m clamoribus Pro n.o.bis peccatoribus.)

_Let me not conceal it... Rode I. _ (For who but critics could complain Of 'riding' in a railway train?) _Across the valleys and the high-land, With all the world on either hand.

Drinking when I had a mind to, Singing when I felt inclined to; Nor ever turned my face to home Till I had slaked my heart at Rome._

THE END AGAIN

LECTOR. But this is dogg--

AUCTOR. Not a word!

FINIS