to quit his order, and give up avarice
and rapacity. The Abbot refused, and even administered to the Archdeacon
the rebuke, "Get thee behind me, Satan." Shortly afterwards Mapes was
taken ill, and the Abbot going to visit him, strongly recommended him to
renounce his light jesting habits, to give up his pluralities, and take
refuge in the bosom of the Cistercian order--at the same time producing
a gown and cowl, with which he proposed to invest him. Mapes, with
characteristic humour called his servants, and told them that, if ever
in a fit of sickness he expressed a desire of becoming a monk, they
were to consider it a sign that he had lost his senses, and keep him in
close confinement.

The character which Mapes obtained for himself, caused a large amount of
poetry of a somewhat later date to be attributed to him. It is called
"Goliardic," as it gives the views of a class of wild ecclesiastical or
University men, who spent their time in composing lampoons, and were
called Goliards, from their supposed gluttony. In an epigram, one of
these men is represented coming to a bishop's palace, and stating that
he is "all ready to dine," somewhat in the way of the old Greek
parasites. The bishop tells him he does not want such disreputable
company, but that as he has come, he may have his food. We may suppose,
however, that he and his poorer brethren did not occupy any dignified
position at the repast, as one of them complains

"Abbas ire sede sursum,
Et prioris juxta ipsum,
Ego semper stavi dorsum
Inter rascalilia."

All these poems are in Latin rhyme. Two of them are especially
attributed to Mapes. One is "on not marrying;" Golias here sets forth a
very appalling catalogue of the miseries of matrimony. The husband is a
donkey who is spurned by his wife. Her tongue is a sword. He thanks
heaven he has escaped from the danger he was once in from the
fascinations of a beautiful lady. The other piece is the "Confessions of
Golias," which are very frank with regard to various unclerical
weaknesses. Some of the stanzas may be translated as follows,

"I purpose in a tavern to die,
Place to my dying lips the flowing bowl,
May choirs of angels coming from on high
Sing, 'God be gracious to the toper's soul.'[42]

"The race of poets shun both drink and food,
Avoid disputes, withdraw from public strife,
And to make verses that shall long hold good
O'ercome with labour, sacrifice their life