What motley images you display
You gentlemen from a much older day
On oriental carpet your arms lay.
That grey warpëd skull that flies in front
Like two fingers held up to spite death!
You strike me clear not as men who hunt
But knowledge is your lives’ very breath!
Your globes and science instruments sit
On shelves with lute and pipes, a misfit?
I say “No!” The many interests shown
Shout of inquiring minds. Catholics
You both may be, sent by the French throne
You stand in England with crucifix
To defend your faith ‘gainst Harry’s tricks.