Those flies of boys disturbed them sore
     On Sundays and when daylight wore: 
     With withies cut from hedge or copse,
     They treated them as whipping-tops,
     And flung big stones with cruel aim;
     Yet all the flock jumped on the same.

     XXI

     For what could persecution do
     To worry such a blessed crew,
     On whom it was as wind to fire,
     Which set them always jumping higher? 
     The parson and the lawyer tried,
     By meek persistency defied.

     XXII

     But if they bore, they could pursue
     As well, and this the Bishop too;
     When inner warnings proved him plain
     The chase for Jump-to-glory Jane. 
     She knew it by his being sent
     To bless the feasting in the tent.

     XXIII

     Not less than fifty years on end,
     The Squire had been the Bishop’s friend: 
     And his poor tenants, harmless ones,
     With souls to save! fed not on buns,
     But angry meats:  she took her place
     Outside to show the way to grace.

     XXIV

     In apron suit the Bishop stood;
     The crowding people kindly viewed. 
     A gaunt grey woman he saw rise
     On air, with most beseeching eyes: 
     And evident as light in dark
     It was, she set to him for mark.

     XXV

     Her highest leap had come:  with ease
     She jumped to reach the Bishop’s knees: 
     Compressing tight her arms and lips,
     She sought to jump the Bishop’s hips: 
     Her aim flew at his apron-band,
     That he might see and understand.

     XXVI

     The mild inquiry of his gaze
     Was altered to a peaked amaze,
     At sight of thirty in ascent,
     To gain his notice clearly bent: 
     And greatly Jane at heart was vexed
     By his ploughed look of mind perplexed.

     XXVII

     In jumps that said, Beware the pit! 
     More eloquent than speaking it —
     That said, Avoid the boiled, the roast;
     The heated nose on face of ghost,
     Which comes of drinking:  up and o’er
     The flesh with me! did Jane implore.

     XXVIII

     She jumped him high as huntsmen go
     Across the gate; she jumped him low,
     To coax him to begin and feel
     His infant steps returning, peel
     His mortal pride, exposing fruit,
     And off with hat and apron suit.

     XXIX

     We need much patience, well she knew,
     And out and out, and through and through,
     When we would gentlefolk address,
     However we may seek to bless: 
     At times they hide them like the beasts
     From sacred beams; and mostly priests.

     XXX