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Long time before the Corsican he lived,

Ere France had lost her faith in monks and nuns,

While chiming bells were more than roaring guns,

And in their potency the land believed,

Rejoicing that their fathers’ faith was true.

His life fell in the days of Charles the Great,

When wars were pleasant pastime for the kings,

Who fought for many reasons quite terrestrial,

But sometimes, as they thought, for things celestial,

And nothing like the latter valor brings,

Inspired by bigotry and hellish hate.

When France was warring for her very life,

And Guise, the mighty lion, held at bay,

When Florence beat her foe at Marciano,

And poor Sordino lost his sweet campana,

’Twas in that age he lived and made his way

To Paris, weary from the worldly strife.

He traveled like a scholar, incognito,

And sought the company of learned men,

Disputing with them in the classic lore;

This helped him churchly places to explore,

Where might have been, perchance, a robber’s den,

Since that of old has ever had a ditto.