Touched by the pathos of these rhymes, br The Theologian said: 'All praise br Be to the ballads of old times br And to the bards of simple ways, br Who walked with Nature hand in hand, br Whose country was their Holy Land, br Whose singing robes were homespun brown br From looms of their own native town, br Which they were not ashamed to wear, br And not of silk or sendal gay, br Nor decked with fanciful array br Of cockle-shells from Outre-Mer.' br br To whom the Student answered: 'Yes; br All praise and honor! I confess br That bread and ale, home-baked, home-brewed, br Are wholesome and nutritious food, br But not enough for all our needs; br Poets--the best of them--are birds br Of passage; where their instinct leads br They range abroad for thoughts and words, br And from all climes bring home the seeds br That germinate in flowers or weeds. br They are not fowls in barnyards born br To cackle o'er a grain of corn; br And, if you shut the horizon down br To the small limits of their town, br What do you but degrade your bard br Till he at last becomes as one br Who thinks the all-encircling sun br Rises and sets in his back yard?' br br The Theologian said again: br 'It may be so; yet I maintain br That what is native still is best, br And little care I for the rest. br 'T is a long story; time would fail br To tell it, and the hour is late; br We will not waste it in debate, br But listen to our Landlord's tale.' br br And thus the sword of Damocles br Descending not by slow degrees, br But suddenly, on the Landlord fell, br Who blushing, and with much demur br And many vain apologies, br Plucking up heart, began to tell br The Rhyme of one Sir Christopher.