A poem for Christmas by A.A. Milne, author of Winnie the Pooh, illustrated by E.H. Shepherd.
KING HILARY AND THE BEGGERMAN
Of Hilary the Great and Good
They tell a tale at Christmas time;
I’ve often thought the story would
Be prettier but just as good
If almost anybody should
Translate it into rime.
So I have done the best I can
For lack of some more learned man.
Good King Hilary
Said to his Chancellor
(Proud Lord Willoughby,
Lord High Chancellor):
“Run to the wicket-gate
Quickly, quickly,
Run to the wicket gate
And see who is knocking.
It may be a rich man,
Sea-borne from Araby,
Bringing me peacocks,
Emeralds and ivory;
It may be a poor man,
Travel-worn and weary,
Bringing me oranges
To put in my stocking.”
Proud Lord Willoughby,
Lord High Chancellor,
Laughed both loud and free:
“I’ve served Your Majesty, man to man,
Since first Your Majesty’s reign began,
And I’ve often walked, but I never, never ran,
Never, never, never,” quoth he.
Haw! Haw! Haw!
Good King Hilary
Said to his Chancellor
(Proud Lord Willoughby,
Lord High Chancellor):
“Walk to the wicket-gate
Quickly, quickly,
Walk to the wicket-gate
And see who is knocking.
It may be a captain,
Hawk-nosed, bearded,
Bringing me gold-dust,
Spices, and sandalwood:
It may be a scullion,
Care-free, whistling,
Bringing me sugar-plums
To put in my stocking.”
Proud Lord Willoughby,
Lord High Chancellor,
Laughed both loud and free:
“I’ve served in the Palace since I was four,
And I’ll serve in the Palace a-many years more,
And I’ve opened a window, but never a door,
Never, never, never,” quoth he.
Good King Hilary
Said to his Chancellor
(Proud Lord Willoughby,
Lord High Chancellor):
“Open the window
Quickly, quickly,
Open the window
And see who is knocking.
It may be a waiting-maid,
Apple-cheeked, dimpled,
Sent by her mistress
To bring me greeting;
It may be children,
Anxious, whispering,
Bringing me cobnuts,
To put in my stocking.”
Proud Lord Willoughby,
Lord High Chancellor,
Laughed both loud and free:
“I’ll serve Your Majesty till I die—
As Lord Chancellor, not as spy
To peep from lattices; no, not I,
Never, never, never,” quoth he.
Good King Hilary
Looked at his Chancellor
(Proud Lord Willoughby,
Lord High Chancellor):
He said no word
To his stiff-set Chancellor,
But ran to the wicket-gate
To see who was knocking.
He found no rich man
Trading from Araby;
He found no captain,
Blue-eyed, weather-tanned;
He found no waiting-maid
Sent by her mistress;
But only a beggarman
With one red stocking.
Good King Hilary
Looked at the beggarman,
And laughed him three times three;
And he turned that beggarman round about:
“Your thews are strong, and your arm is stout;
Come, throw me a Lord High Chancellor out,
And take his place,” quoth he.
Of Hilary the Good and Great
Old wives at Christmas time relate
This tale, which points, at any rate,
Two morals on the way.
The first: “Whatever Fortune brings,
Don’t be afraid of doing things.“
(Especially, of course, for Kings.)
It also seems to say
(But not so wisely): “He who begs
With one red stocking on his legs
Will be, as sure as eggs are eggs,
A Chancellor some day.“