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diff --git a/old/plpm10.txt b/old/plpm10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6f7e46d --- /dev/null +++ b/old/plpm10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7205 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Playful Poems, by Henry Morley + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: Playful Poems + +Author: Henry Morley + +Release Date: August, 2004 [EBook #6332] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on November 27, 2002] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, PLAYFUL POEMS *** + + + + +This etext was produced by Les Bowler, St. Ives, Dorset. + + + + +PLAYFUL POEMS, (by various authors) +EDITED AND WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY HENRY MORLEY. + + + + +CONTENTS. + + + +INTRODUCTION + +CHAUCER'S MANCIPLE'S TALE OF PHOEBUS AND THE CROW + Modernised by LEIGH HUNT. +CHAUCER'S RIME OF SIR THOPAS + Modernised by Z. A. Z. +CHAUCER'S FRIAR'S TALE; OR, THE SUMNER AND THE DEVIL + Modernised by LEIGH HUNT. +CHAUCER'S REVE'S TALE + Modernised by R. H. HORNE. +CHAUCER'S POEM OF THE CUCKOO AND THE NIGHTINGALE + Modernised by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH. +GOWER'S TREASURE TROVE + Modernised from the fifth book of the CONFESSIO AMANTIS. +LYDGATE'S LONDON LICKPENNY + +LYDGATE'S BICORN AND CHICHEVACHE + +DUNBAR'S BEST TO BE BLYTH + +DRAYTON'S DOWSABELL + +DRAYTON'S NYMPHIDIA + +POPE'S RAPE OF THE LOCK + +COWPER'S JOHN GILPIN + +BURNS'S TAM O'SHANTER + +HOOD'S DEMON SHIP + +HOOD'S TALE OF A TRUMPET + +GLOSSARY + +NOTES + +THE GAME OF OMBRE + + + +INTRODUCTION + + + +The last volume of these "Companion Poets" contained some of +Chaucer's Tales as they were modernised by Dryden. This volume +contains more of his Tales as they were modernised by later poets. +In 1841 there was a volume published entitled, "The Poems of +Geoffrey Chaucer Modernized." Of this volume, when it was first +projected, Wordsworth wrote to Moxon, his publisher, on the 24th of +February 1840: "Mr. Powell, my friend, has some thought of +preparing for publication some portion of Chaucer modernised, as far +and no farther than is done in my treatment of 'The Prioress' Tale.' +That would, in fact, be his model. He will have coadjutors, among +whom, I believe, will be Mr. Leigh Hunt, a man as capable of doing +the work well as any living writer. I have placed at my friend Mr. +Powell's disposal three other pieces which I did long ago, but +revised the other day. They are 'The Manciple's Tale,' 'The Cuckoo +and the Nightingale,' and twenty-four stanzas of 'Troilus and +Cressida.' This I have done mainly out of my love and reverence for +Chaucer, in hopes that, whatever may be the merits of Mr. Powell's +attempt, the attention of other writers may be drawn to the subject; +and a work hereafter produced, by different persons, which will +place the treasures of one of the greatest of poets within the reach +of the multitude, which now they are not. I mention all this to you +because, though I have not given Mr. Powell the least encouragement +to do so, he may sound you as to your disposition to undertake the +publication. I have myself nothing further to do with it than I +have stated. Had the thing been suggested to me by any number of +competent persons twenty years ago, I would have undertaken the +editorship and done much more myself, and endeavoured to improve the +several contributions where they seemed to require it. But that is +now out of the question." + +Wordsworth had made his versions of Chaucer in the year 1801. "The +Prioress's Tale" had been published in 1820, so that only the three +pieces he had revised for his friend's use were available, and of +these the Manciple's Tale was withdrawn, the version by Leigh Hunt +(which is among the pieces here reprinted) being used. The volume +was published in 1841, not by Moxon but by Whitaker. Wordsworth's +versions of "The Cuckoo and the Nightingale" (here reprinted), and +of a passage taken from "Troilus and Cressida," were included in it. +Leigh Hunt contributed versions of the Manciple's Tale and the +Friar's Tale (both here reprinted), and of the Squire's Tale. +Elizabeth A. Barrett, afterwards Mrs. Browning, contributed a +version of "Queen Annelida and False Arcite." Richard Hengist Horne +entered heartily into the venture, modernised the Prologue to the +Canterbury Tales, the Reve's Tale, and the Franklin's, and wrote an +Introduction of more than a hundred pages, to which Professor +Leonhard Schmitz added thirty-two pages of a Life of Chaucer. +Robert Bell, to whom we were afterwards indebted for an "Annotated +Edition of the English Poets," modernised the Complaint of Mars and +Venus. Thomas Powell, the editor, contributed his version of the +Legends of Ariadne, Philomene, and Phillis, and of "The Flower and +the Leaf," and a friend, who signed only as Z. A. Z, dealt with "The +Rime of Sir Thopas." + +After the volume had appeared, Wordsworth thus wrote of it to +Professor Henry Reed of Philadelphia: "There has recently been +published in London a volume of some of Chaucer's tales and poems +modernised; this little specimen originated in what I attempted with +'The Prioress' Tale,' and if the book should find its way to America +you will see in it two further specimens from myself. I had no +further connection with the publication than by making a present of +these to one of the contributors. Let me, however, recommend to +your notice the Prologue and the Franklin's Tale. They are both by +Mr. Horne, a gentleman unknown to me, but are--the latter in +particular--very well done. Mr. Leigh Hunt has not failed in the +Manciple's Tale, which I myself modernised many years ago; but +though I much admire the genius of Chaucer as displayed in this +performance, I could not place my version at the disposal of the +editor, as I deemed the subject somewhat too indelicate for pure +taste to be offered to the world at this time of day. Mr. Horne has +much hurt this publication by not abstaining from the Reve's Tale. +This, after making all allowance for the rude manners of Chaucer's +age, is intolerable; and by indispensably softening down the +incidents, he has killed the spirit of that humour, gross and +farcical, that pervades the original. When the work was first +mentioned to me, I protested as strongly as possible against +admitting any coarseness and indelicacy, so that my conscience is +clear of countenancing aught of that kind. So great is my +admiration of Chaucer's genius, and so profound my reverence for +him. . . for spreading the light of Literature through his native +land, that, notwithstanding the defects and faults in this +publication, I am glad of it, as a means for making many acquainted +with the original, who would otherwise be ignorant of everything +about him but his name." + +Wordsworth's objection to the Manciple's Tale from Ovid's +Metamorphoses was an afterthought. He had begun by offering his +version of it for publication in this volume. His objection to +Horne's treatment of the Reve's Tale was reasonable enough. The +original tale was the sixth novel in the ninth day of the Decameron, +and probably was taken by Chaucer from a Fabliau by Jean de Boves, +"De Gombert et des Deux Clercs." The same story has been imitated +in the "Cent Nouvelles Nouvelles," and in the "Berceau" of La +Fontaine. Horne's removal from the tale of everything that would +offend a modern reader was designed to enable thousands to find +pleasure in an old farcical piece that would otherwise be left +unread. + +Chaucer's "Rime of Sir Thopas" was a playful jest on the long-winded +story-telling of the old romances, and had specially in mind Thomas +Chestre's version of Launfal from Marie of France, and the same +rhymer's romance of "Ly Beaus Disconus," who was Gingelein, a son of +Gawain, called by his mother, for his beauty, only Beaufis (handsome +son); but when he offered himself in that name to be knighted by +King Arthur, he was knighted and named by him Li Beaus Disconus (the +fair unknown). This is the method of the tediousness, in which it +showed itself akin to many a rhyming tale. + +"And for love of his fair vis +His mother cleped him Beaufis, + And none other name; +And himselve was full nis, +He ne axed nought y-wis + What he hight at his dame. + +"As it befel upon a day, +To wood he went on his play + Of deer to have his game; +He found a knight, where he lay +In armes that were stout and gay, + Y-slain and made full tame. + +"That child did off the knightes wede, +And anon he gan him schrede + In that rich armour. +When he hadde do that dede, +To Glastenbury he gede, + There lay the King Arthour. + +"He knelde in the hall +Before the knightes all, + And grette hem with honour, +And said: 'Arthour, my lord, +Grant me to speak a word, + I pray thee, par amour. + +"'I am a child uncouth, +And come out of the south, + And would be made a knight, +Lord, I pray thee nouthe, +With thy merry mouthe, + Grant me anon right.' + +"Then said Arthour the king, +'Anon, without dwelling, + Tell me thy name aplight! +For sethen I was ybore, +Ne found I me before + None so fair of sight.' + +"That child said, 'By Saint Jame, +I not what is my name; + I am the more nis; +But while I was at hame +My mother, in her game, + Cleped me Beaufis.' + +"Then said Arthour the king, +'This is a wonder thing + By God and Saint Denis! +When he that would be knight +Ne wot not what he hight, + And is so fair of vis. + +"'Now will I give him a name +Before you all in same, + For he is so fair and free, +By God and by Saint Jame, +So cleped him ne'er his dame, + What woman so it be. + +"'Now clepeth him all of us, +Li Beaus Disconus, + For the love of me! +Then may ye wite a rowe, +"'The Faire Unknowe,' + Certes, so hatte he" + +John Gower's "Confessio Amantis" was a story book, like the +Canterbury Tales, with a contrivance of its own for stringing the +tales together, and Gower was at work on it nearly about the time +when his friend Chaucer was busy with his Pilgrims. The story here +extracted was an old favourite. It appeared in Greek about the year +800, in the romance of Barlaam and Josaphat. It was told by Vincent +of Beauvais in the year 1290 in his "Speculum Historiale;" and it +was used by Boccaccio for the first tale of the tenth day of his +"Decameron." + +Chaucer, Gower, Lydgate were the old poetical triumvirate, though +Lydgate, who was about thirty years old when Chaucer died, has +slipped much out of mind. His verses on the adventures of the +Kentish rustic who came to London to get justice in the law courts, +and his words set to the action of an old piece of rustic mumming, +"Bicorn and Chichevache," here represent his vein of playfulness. +He was a monk who taught literature at Bury St. Edmunds, and was +justly looked upon as the chief poet of the generation who lived +after Chaucer's death. + +Next follows in this volume a scrap of wise counsel to take life +cheerfully, from the Scottish poet, William Dunbar. He lived at the +Scottish Court of James the Fourth when Henry the Seventh reigned in +England, and who was our greatest poet of the north country before +Burns. + +Next we come to the poets "who so did please Eliza and our James," +and represent their playfulness by Drayton's "Dowsabell," and that +most exquisite of fairy pieces, his "Nymphidia," where Oberon +figures as the mad Orlando writ small, and Drayton earned his claim +to be the Fairies' Laureate, though Herrick, in the same vein, +followed close upon him. Michael Drayton, nearly of an age with +Shakespeare, was, like Shakespeare, a Warwickshire man. Empty +tradition says that Shakespeare died of a too festive supper shared +with his friend Drayton, who came to visit him. + +Then follows in this volume the playful treatment of a quarrel +between friends, in Pope's "Rape of the Lock." Lord Petre, aged +twenty, audaciously cut from the head of Miss Arabella Fermor, +daughter of Mr. Fermor of Tusmore, a lock of her hair while she was +playing cards in the Queen's rooms at Hampton Court. Pope's friend, +Mr. Caryll, suggested to him that a mock heroic treatment of the +resulting quarrel might restore peace, and Pope wrote a poem in two +cantos, which was published in a Miscellany in 1712, Pope's age then +being twenty-four. But as epic poems required supernatural +machinery, Pope added afterwards to his mock epic the machinery of +sylphs and gnomes, suggested to him by the reading of a French +story, "Le Comte de Gabalis," by the Abbe Villars. Here there were +sylphs of the air and gnomes of the earth, little spirits who would +be in right proportion to the substance of his poem, which was +refashioned into five cantos, and republished as we have it now in +February 1714. + +"John Gilpin" was written by William Cowper in the year 1782, when +Lady Austin was lodging in the Vicarage at Olney, and spent every +evening with Cowper and Mrs. Unwin, cheering Cowper greatly by her +liveliness. One evening she told the story of John Gilpin's ride in +a way that tickled the poet's fancy, set him laughing when he woke +up in the night, and obliged him to turn it next day into ballad +rhyme. Mrs. Unwin's son sent it to the Public Advertiser, for the +poet's corner. It was printed in that newspaper, and thought no +more of until about three years later. Then it was suggested to a +popular actor named Henderson, who gave entertainments of his own, +that this piece would tell well among his recitations. He +introduced it into his entertainments, and soon all the town was +running after John Gilpin as madly as the six gentlemen and the +post-boy. + +John Gilpin's flight is followed in this volume by the flight of Tam +o' Shanter. Burns wrote "Tam o' Shanter" at Elliesland, and himself +considered it the best of all his poems. He told the story to +Captain Grose, as it was current among the people in his part of the +country, its scene laid almost on the spot where he was born. +Captain Grose, the antiquary, who was collecting materials for his +"Antiquities of Scotland," published in 1789-91, got Burns to +versify it and give it to him. The poem made its first appearance, +therefore, in Captain Grose's book. Mrs. Burns told of it that it +was the work of a day. Burns was most of the day on his favourite +walk by the river, where his wife and some of the children joined +him in the afternoon. Mrs. Burns saw that her husband was busily +engaged "crooning to himsell," and she loitered behind with the +little ones among the broom. Presently she was attracted by the +poet's strange and wild gesticulations; he seemed agonised with an +ungovernable joy. He was reciting very loud. Every circumstance +suggested to heighten the impression of fear in the lines following, + + "By this time he was 'cross the ford + Where in the snaw the chapman smoored," etc., + +was taken from local tradition. Shanter was the real name of a farm +near Kirkoswald, then occupied by a Douglas Grahame, who was much of +Tam's character, and was well content to be called by his country +neighbours Tam o' Shanter for the rest of his life, after Burns had +made the name of the farm immortal. + +Our selection ends with two pieces by Thomas Hood, whose "Tale of a +Trumpet" is luxuriant with play of wit that has its earnest side. +Hood died in 1845. + +A Note upon the Game of Ombre is added, which is founded upon the +description of the game in a little book--"The Court Gamester"-- +which instructed card-players in the reigns of the first Georges. +In the "Rape of the Lock" there is a game of ombre played through to +the last trick. That note will enable any reader to follow +Belinda's play. It will also enable any one who may care to do so +to restore to a place among our home amusements a game which carried +all before it in Queen Anne's day, and which is really, when cleared +of its gambling details, as good a domestic game for three players +as cribbage or piquet is for two. My "Court Gamester," which was in +its fifth edition in 1728, after devoting its best energies to +ombre, contented its readers in fewer pages with the addition only +of piquet and chess. + +Obsolete words and words of Scottish dialect, with a few more as to +the meaning of which some readers might be uncertain, will be found +explained in the Glossary that ends this volume. + + + +CHAUCER'S MANCIPLE'S TALE OF PHOEBUS AND THE CROW +MODERNISED BY LEIGH HUNT. + + +NOTE. + +The reader is to understand, that all the persons previously +described in the "Prologue to the Canterbury Tales" are now riding +on their way to that city, and each of them telling his tale +respectively, which is preceded by some little bit of incident or +conversation on the road. The agreement, suggested by the Host of +the Tabard, was, first, that each pilgrim should tell a couple of +tales while going to Canterbury, and another couple during the +return to London; secondly, that the narrator of the best one of all +should sup at the expense of the whole party; and thirdly, that the +Host himself should be gratuitous guide on the journey, and arbiter +of all differences by the way, with power to inflict the payment of +travelling expenses upon any one who should gainsay his judgment. +During the intervals of the stories he is accordingly the most +prominent person.--LEIGH HUNT. + +PROLOGUE TO THE MANCIPLE'S TALE. + +Wottest thou, reader, of a little town, {17} +Which thereabouts they call Bob-up-and-down, +Under the Blee, in Canterbury way? +Well, there our host began to jest and play, +And said, "Hush, hush now: Dun is in the mire. +What, sirs? will nobody, for prayer or hire, +Wake our good gossip, sleeping here behind? +Here were a bundle for a thief to find. +See, how he noddeth! by St. Peter, see! +He'll tumble off his saddle presently. +Is that a cook of London, red flames take him! +He knoweth the agreement--wake him, wake him: +We'll have his tale, to keep him from his nap, +Although the drink turn out not worth the tap. +Awake, thou cook," quoth he; "God say thee nay; +What aileth thee to sleep thus in the day? +Hast thou had fleas all night? or art thou drunk? +Or didst thou sup with my good lord the monk, +And hast a jolly surfeit in thine head?" + + This cook that was full pale, and nothing red, +Stared up, and said unto the host, "God bless +My soul, I feel such wondrous heaviness, +I know not why, that I would rather sleep +Than drink of the best gallon-wine in Cheap." + + "Well," quoth the Manciple, "if it might ease +Thine head, Sir Cook, and also none displease +Of all here riding in this company, +And mine host grant it, I would pass thee by, +Till thou art better, and so tell MY tale; +For in good faith thy visage is full pale; +Thine eyes grow dull, methinks; and sure I am, +Thy breath resembleth not sweet marjoram, +Which showeth thou canst utter no good matter: +Nay, thou mayst frown forsooth, but I'll not flatter. +See, how he gapeth, lo! this drunken wight; +He'll swallow us all up before he'll bite; +Hold close thy mouth, man, by thy father's kin; +The fiend himself now set his foot therein, +And stop it up, for 'twill infect us all; +Fie, hog; fie, pigsty; foul thy grunt befall. +Ah--see, he bolteth! there, sirs, was a swing; +Take heed--he's bent on tilting at the ring: +He's the shape, isn't he? to tilt and ride! +Eh, you mad fool! go to your straw, and hide." + + Now with this speech the cook for rage grew black, +And would have stormed, but could not speak, alack! +So mumbling something, from his horse fell he, +And where he fell, there lay he patiently, +Till pity on his shame his fellows took. +Here was a pretty horseman of a cook! +Alas! that he had held not by his ladle! +And ere again they got him on his saddle, +There was a mighty shoving to and fro +To lift him up, and muckle care and woe, +So heavy was this carcase of a ghost. +Then to the Manciple thus spake our host:- +"Since drink upon this man hath domination, +By nails! and as I reckon my salvation, +I trow he would have told a sorry tale; +For whether it be wine, or it be ale, +That he hath drank, he speaketh through the nose, +And sneezeth much, and he hath got the POSE, {19} +And also hath given us business enow +To keep him on his horse, out of the slough; +He'll fall again, if he be driven to speak, +And then, where are we, for a second week? +Why, lifting up his heavy drunken corse! +Tell on thy tale, and look we to his horse. +Yet, Manciple, in faith thou art too nice +Thus openly to chafe him for his vice. +Perchance some day he'll do as much for thee, +And bring thy baker's bills in jeopardy, +Thy black jacks also, and thy butcher's matters, +And whether they square nicely with thy platters." + + "Mine," quoth the Manciple, "were then the mire! +Much rather would I pay his horse's hire, +And that will be no trifle, mud and all, +Than risk the peril of so sharp a fall. +I did but jest. Score not, ye'll be not scored. +And guess ye what? I have here, in my gourd, +A draught of wine, better was never tasted, +And with this cook's ladle will I be basted, +If he don't drink of it, right lustily. +Upon my life he'll not say nay. Now see. + + And true it was, the cook drank fast enough; +Down went the drink out of the gourd, FLUFF, FLUFF: +Alas! the man had had enough before: +And then, betwixt a trumpet and a snore, +His nose said something,--grace for what he had; +And of that drink the cook was wondrous glad. + + Our host nigh burst with laughter at the sight, +And sighed and wiped his eyes for pure delight, +And said, "Well, I perceive it's necessary, +Where'er we go, good wine with us to carry. +What needeth in this world more strifes befall? +Good wine's the doctor to appease them all. +O, Bacchus, Bacchus! blessed be thy name, +That thus canst turn our earnest into game. +Worship and thanks be to thy deity. +So on this head ye get no more from me. +Tell on thy tale, Manciple, I thee pray." + +"Well, sire," quoth he, "now hark to what I say." + + + +THE MANCIPLE'S TALE OF PHOEBUS AND THE CROW. + + +When Phoebus dwelt with men, in days of yore, +He was the very lustiest bachelor +Of all the world; and shot in the best bow. +'Twas he, as the old books of stories show, +That shot the serpent Python, as he lay +Sleeping against the sun, upon a day: +And many another noble worthy deed +He did with that same bow, as men may read. + + He played all kinds of music: and so clear +His singing was, and such a heaven to hear, +Men might not speak during his madrigal. +Amphion, king of Thebes, that put a wall +About the city with his melody, +Certainly sang not half so well as he. +And add to this, he was the seemliest man +That is, or has been, since the world began. +What needs describe his beauty? since there's none +With which to make the least comparison. +In brief, he was the flower of gentilesse, {21} +Of honour, and of perfect worthiness: +And yet, take note, for all this mastery, +This Phoebus was of cheer so frank and free, +That for his sport, and to commend the glory +He gat him o'er the snake (so runs the story), +He used to carry in his hand a bow. + + Now this same god had in his house a crow, +Which in a cage he fostered many a day, +And taught to speak, as folks will teach a jay. +White was the crow; as is a snow-white swan, +And could repeat a tale told by a man, +And sing. No nightingale, down in a dell, +Could sing one-hundred-thousandth part so well. + + Now had this Phoebus in his house a wife +Which that he loved beyond his very life: +And night and day did all his diligence +To please her well, and do her reverence; +Save only, to speak truly, inter nos, +Jealous he was, and would have kept her close: +He wished not to be treated monstrously: +Neither does any man, no more than he; +Only to hinder wives, it serveth nought; - +A good wife, that is clean of work and thought, +No man would dream of hindering such a way. +And just as bootless is it, night or day, +Hindering a shrew; for it will never be. +I hold it for a very foppery, +Labour in vain, this toil to hinder wives, +Old writers always say so, in their Lives. + + But to my story, as it first began. +This worthy Phoebus doeth all he can +To please his wife, in hope, so pleasing her, +That she, for her part, would herself bestir +Discreetly, so as not to lose his grace; +But, Lord he knows, there's no man shall embrace +A thing so close, as to restrain what Nature +Hath naturally set in any creature. + + Take any bird, and put it in a cage, +And do thy best and utmost to engage +The bird to love it; give it meat and drink, +And every dainty housewives can bethink, +And keep the cage as cleanly as you may, +And let it be with gilt never so gay, +Yet had this bird, by twenty-thousand-fold, +Rather be in a forest wild and cold, +And feed on worms and suchlike wretchedness; +Yea, ever will he tax his whole address +To get out of the cage when that he may:- +His liberty the bird desireth aye. + + So, take a cat, and foster her with milk +And tender meat, and make her bed of silk, +Yet let her see a mouse go by the wall, +The devil may take, for her, silk, milk, and all, +And every dainty that is in the house; +Such appetite hath she to eat the mouse. +Lo, here hath Nature plainly domination, +And appetite renounceth education. + + A she-wolf likewise hath a villain's kind: +The worst and roughest wolf that she can find, +Or least of reputation, will she wed, +When the time comes to make her marriage-bed. + + But misinterpret not my speech, I pray; +All this of men, not women, do I say; +For men it is, that come and spoil the lives +Of such, as but for them, would make good wives. +They leave their own wives, be they never so fair, +Never so true, never so debonair, +And take the lowest they may find, for change. +Flesh, the fiend take it, is so given to range, +It never will continue, long together, +Contented with good, steady, virtuous weather. + + This Phoebus, while on nothing ill thought he, +Jilted he was, for all his jollity; +For under him, his wife, at her heart's-root, +Another had, a man of small repute, +Not worth a blink of Phoebus; more's the pity; +Too oft it falleth so, in court and city. +This wife, when Phoebus was from home one day, +Sent for her lemman then, without delay. +Her lemman!--a plain word, I needs must own; +Forgive it me; for Plato hath laid down, +The word must suit according with the deed; +Word is work's cousin-german, ye may read: +I'm a plain man, and what I say is this: +Wife high, wife low, if bad, both do amiss: +But because one man's wench sitteth above, +She shall be called his Lady and his Love; +And because t'other's sitteth low and poor, +She shall be called,--Well, well, I say no more; +Only God knoweth, man, mine own dear brother, +One wife is laid as low, just, as the other. + + Right so betwixt a lawless, mighty chief +And a rude outlaw, or an arrant thief, +Knight arrant or thief arrant, all is one; +Difference, as Alexander learnt, there's none; +But for the chief is of the greater might, +By force of numbers, to slay all outright, +And burn, and waste, and make as flat as floor, +Lo, therefore is he clept a conqueror; +And for the other hath his numbers less, +And cannot work such mischief and distress, +Nor be by half so wicked as the chief, +Men clepen him an outlaw and a thief. + + However, I am no text-spinning man; +So to my tale I go, as I began. + + Now with her lemman is this Phoebus' wife; +The crow he sayeth nothing, for his life; +Caged hangeth he, and sayeth not a word; +But when that home was come Phoebus the lord, +He singeth out, and saith,--"Cuckoo! cuckoo!" +"Hey!" crieth Phoebus, "here be something new; +Thy song was wont to cheer me. What is this?" +"By Jove!" quoth Corvus, "I sing not amiss. +Phoebus," quoth he; "for all thy worthiness, +For all thy beauty and all thy gentilesse, +For all thy song and all thy minstrelsy, +And all thy watching, bleared is thine eye; +Yea, and by one no worthier than a gnat, +Compared with him should boast to wear thine hat." + + What would you more? the crow hath told him all; +This woful god hath turned him to the wall +To hide his tears: he thought 'twould burst his heart; +He bent his bow, and set therein a dart, +And in his ire he hath his wife yslain; +He hath; he felt such anger and such pain; +For sorrow of which he brake his minstrelsy, +Both harp and lute, gittern and psaltery, +And then he brake his arrows and his bow, +And after that, thus spake he to the crow:- + + "Traitor," quoth he, "behold what thou hast done; +Made me the saddest wretch beneath the sun: +Alas! why was I born! O dearest wife, +Jewel of love and joy, my only life, +That wert to me so steadfast and so true, +There liest thou dead; why am not I so too? +Full innocent thou wert, that durst I swear; +O hasty hand, to bring me to despair! +O troubled wit, O anger without thought, +That unadvised smitest, and for nought: +O heart of little faith, full of suspicion, +Where was thy handsomeness and thy discretion? +O every man, hold hastiness in loathing; +Believe, without strong testimony, nothing; +Smite not too soon, before ye well know why; +And be advised well and soberly +Before ye trust yourselves to the commission +Of any ireful deed upon suspicion. +Alas! a thousand folk hath hasty ire +Foully foredone, and brought into the mire. +Alas! I'll kill myself for misery." + + And to the crow, "O thou false thief!" said he, +I'll quit thee, all thy life, for thy false tale; +Thou shalt no more sing like the nightingale, +Nor shalt thou in those fair white feathers go, +Thou silly thief, thou false, black-hearted crow; +Nor shalt thou ever speak like man again; +Thou shalt not have the power to give such pain; +Nor shall thy race wear any coat but black, +And ever shall their voices crone and crack +And be a warning against wind and rain, +In token that by thee my wife was slain." + + So to the crow he started, like one mad, +And tore out every feather that he had, +And made him black, and reft him of his stores +Of song and speech, and flung him out of doors +Unto the devil; whence never come he back, +Say I. Amen. And hence all crows are black. + + Lordings, by this example I you pray +Take heed, and be discreet in what you say; +And above all, tell no man, for your life, +How that another man hath kissed his wife. +He'll hate you mortally; be sure of that; +Dan Solomon, in teacher's chair that sat, +Bade us keep all our tongues close as we can; +But, as I said, I'm no text-spinning man, +Only, I must say, thus taught me my dame; {26} +My son, think on the crow in God his name; +My son, keep well thy tongue, and keep thy friend; +A wicked tongue is worse than any fiend; +My son, a fiend's a thing for to keep down; +My son, God in his great discretion +Walled a tongue with teeth, and eke with lips, +That man may think, before his speech out slips. +A little speech spoken advisedly +Brings none in trouble, speaking generally. +My son, thy tongue thou always shouldst restrain, +Save only at such times thou dost thy pain +To speak of God in honour and in prayer; +The chiefest virtue, son, is to beware +How thou lett'st loose that endless thing, thy tongue; +This every soul is taught, when he is young: +My son, of muckle speaking ill-advised, +And where a little speaking had sufficed, +Com'th muckle harm. This was me told and taught, - +In muckle speaking, sinning wanteth nought. +Know'st thou for what a tongue that's hasty serveth? +Right as a sword forecutteth and forecarveth +An arm in two, my dear son, even so +A tongue clean-cutteth friendship at a blow. +A jangler is to God abominable: +Read Solomon, so wise and honourable; +Read David in his Psalms, read Seneca; +My son, a nod is better than a say; +Be deaf, when folk speak matter perilous; +Small prate, sound pate,--guardeth the Fleming's house. +My son, if thou no wicked word hast spoken, +Thou never needest fear a pate ybroken; +But he that hath missaid, I dare well say, +His fingers shall find blood thereon, some day. +Thing that is said, is said; it may not back +Be called, for all your "Las!" and your "Alack!" +And he is that man's thrall to whom 'twas said; +Cometh the bond some day, and will be paid. +My son, beware, and be no author new +Of tidings, whether they be false or true: +Go wheresoe'er thou wilt, 'mongst high or low, +Keep well thy tongue, and think upon the crow. + + + +CHAUCER'S RIME OF SIR THOPAS +MODERNISED BY Z. A. Z. + + + +PROLOGUE TO SIR THOPAS. + +1. +Now when the Prioress had done, each man +So serious looked, 'twas wonderful to see! +Till our good host to banter us began, +And then at last he cast his eyes on me, +And jeering said, "What man art thou?" quoth he, +"That lookest down as thou wouldst find a hare, +For ever upon the ground I see thee stare. + +2. +"Approach me near, and look up merrily! +Now make way, sirs! and let this man have place. +He in the waist is shaped as well as I: +This were a poppet in an arm's embrace, +For any woman, small and fair of face. +He seemeth elf-like by his countenance, +For with no wight holdeth he dalliance. + +3. +"Say somewhat now, since other folks have said; +Tell us a tale o' mirth, and that anon." +"Host," quoth I then, "be not so far misled, +For other tales except this know I none; +A little rime I learned in years agone." +"Ah! that is well," quoth he; "now we shall hear +Some dainty thing, methinketh, by thy cheer." + + + +THE RIME OF SIR THOPAS. + +FYTTE THE FIRST. {30} + +1. +Listen, lordlings, in good intent, +And I will tell you verament + Of mirth and chivalry, +About a knight on glory bent, +In battle and in tournament; + Sir Thopas named was he. + +2. +And he was born in a far countrey, +In Flanders, all beyond the sea, + At Popering in the place; +His father was a man full free, +And of that country lord was he, + Enjoyed by holy grace. + +3. +Sir Thopas was a doughty swain, +Fair was his face as pain de Maine, + His lips were red as rose; +His ruddy cheeks like scarlet grain; +And I tell you in good certaine, + He had a seemly nose. + +4. +His hair and beard like saffron shone, +And to his girdle fell adown; + His shoes of leather bright; +Of Bruges were his hose so brown, +His robe it was of ciclatoun - + He was a costly wight: + +5. +Well could he hunt the strong wild deer, +And ride a hawking for his cheer + With grey goshawk on hand; +His archery filled the woods with fear, +In wrestling eke he had no peer, - + No man 'gainst him could stand. + +6. +Full many a maiden bright in bower +Was sighing for him par amour + Between her prayers and sleep, +But he was chaste, beyond their power, +And sweet as is the bramble flower + That beareth the red hip. + +7. +And so it fell upon a day, +Forsooth, as I now sing and say, + Sir Thopas went to ride; +He rode upon his courser grey, +And in his hand a lance so gay, + A long sword by his side. + +8. +He rode along a forest fair, +Many a wild beast dwelling there; + (Mercy in heaven defend!) +And there was also buck and hare; +And as he went, he very near + Met with a sorry end. + +9. +And herbs sprang up, or creeping ran; +The liquorice, and valerian, + Clove-gillyflowers, sun-dressed; +And nutmeg, good to put in ale, +Whether it be moist or stale, - + Or to lay sweet in chest, + +10. +The birds all sang, as tho' 'twere May; +The spearhawk, and the popinjay, {32} + It was a joy to hear; +The throstle cock made eke his lay, +The wood-dove sung upon the spray, + With note full loud and clear. + +11. +Sir Thopas fell in love-longing +All when he heard the throstle sing, + And spurred his horse like mad, +So that all o'er the blood did spring, +And eke the white foam you might wring: + The steed in foam seemed clad. + +12. +Sir Thopas eke so weary was +Of riding on the fine soft grass, + While love burnt in his breast, +That down he laid him in that place +To give his courser some solace, + Some forage and some rest. + +13. +Saint Mary! benedicite! +What meaneth all this love in me, + That haunts me in the wood? +This night, in dreaming, did I see +An elf queen shall my true love be, + And sleep beneath my hood. + +14. +An elf queen will I love, I wis, +For in this world no woman is + Worthy to be my bride; +All other damsels I forsake, +And to an elf queen will I take, + By grove and streamlet's side. + +15. +Into his saddle be clomb anon, +And pricketh over stile and stone, + An elf queen to espy; +Till he so long had ridden and gone, +That he at last upon a morn + The fairy land came nigh. + +16. +Therein he sought both far and near, +And oft he spied in daylight clear + Through many a forest wild; +But in that wondrous land I ween, +No living wight by him was seen, + Nor woman, man, nor child. + +17. +At last there came a giant gaunt, +And he was named Sir Oliphaunt, + A perilous man of deed: +And he said, "Childe, by Termagaunt, +If thou ride not from this my haunt, + Soon will I slay thy steed + With this victorious mace; +For here's the lovely Queen of Faery, +With harp and pipe and symphony, + A-dwelling in this place." + +18. +Childe Thopas said right haughtily, +"To-morrow will I combat thee + In armour bright as flower; +And then I promise 'par ma fay' +That thou shalt feel this javelin gay, + And dread its wondrous power. + To-morrow we shall meet again, +And I will pierce thee, if I may, +Upon the golden prime of day; - + And here you shall be slain." + +19. +Sir Thopas drew aback full fast; +The giant at him huge stones cast, + Which from a staff-sling fly; +But well escaped the Childe Thopas, +And it was all through God's good grace, + And through his bearing high. + +20. +Still listen, gentles, to my tale, +Merrier than the nightingale; - + For now I must relate, +How that Sir Thopas rideth o'er +Hill and dale and bright sea-shore, + E'en to his own estate. + +21. +His merry men commandeth he +To make for him the game and glee; + For needs he must soon fight +With a giant fierce, with strong heads three, +For paramour and jollity, + And chivalry so bright. + +22. +"Come forth," said he, "my minstrels fair, +And tell me tales right debonair, + While I am clad and armed; +Romances, full of real tales, +Of dames, and popes, and cardinals, + And maids by wizards charmed." + +23. +They bore to him the sweetest wine +In silver cup; the muscadine, + With spices rare of Ind; +Fine gingerbread, in many a slice, +With cummin seed, and liquorice, + And sugar thrice refined. + +24. +Then next to his white skin he ware +A cloth of fleecy wool, as fair, + Woven into a shirt; +Next that he put a cassock on, +And over that an habergeon, {35} + To guard right well his heart. + +25. +And over that a hauberk went +Of Jews' work, and most excellent; + Full strong was every plate; +And over that his coat armoure, +As white as is the lily flower, + In which he would debate. + +26. +His shield was all of gold so red, +And thereon was a wild boar's head, + A carbuncle beside; +And then he swore on ale and bread, +How that the giant should be dead, + Whatever should betide! + +27. +His boots were glazed right curiously, +His sword-sheath was of ivory, + His helm all brassy bright; +His saddle was of jet-black bone, +His bridle like the bright sun shone, + Or like the clear moons light, + +28. +His spear was of the cypress tree, +That bodeth battle right and free; + The point full sharp was ground; +His steed it was a dapple grey, +That goeth an amble on the way, + Full softly and full round. + +29. +Lo! lordlings mine, here ends one fytte + Of this my tale, a gallant strain; +And if ye will hear more of it, + I'll soon begin again. + + + +FYTTE THE SECOND. + +1. +Now hold your speech for charity, +Both gallant knight and lady free, + And hearken to my song +Of battle and of chivalry, +Of ladies' love and minstrelsy, + All ambling thus along. + +2. +Men speak much of old tales, I know; +Of Hornchild, Ipotis, also + Of Bevis and Sir Guy; +Of Sire Libeaux, and Pleindamour; +But Sire Thopas, he is the flower + Of real chivalry. + +3. +Now was his gallant steed bestrode, +And forth upon his way he rode, + As spark flies from a brand; +Upon his crest he bare a tower, +And therein stuck a lily flower: + Save him from giant hand. + +4. +He was a knight in battle bred, +And in no house would seek his bed, + But laid him in the wood; +His pillow was his helmet bright, - +His horse grazed by him all the night + On herbs both fine and good. + +5. +And he drank water from the well, +As did the knight Sir Percival, + So worthy under weed; +Till on a day - + +[Here Chaucer is interrupted in his Rime.] + + +EPILOGUE TO RIME. + +"No more of this, for Heaven's high dignity!" +Quoth then our Host, "for, lo! thou makest me +So weary of thy very simpleness, +That all so wisely may the Lord me bless, +My very ears, with thy dull rubbish, ache. +Now such a rime at once let Satan take. +This may be well called 'doggrel rime,'" quoth he. +"Why so?" quoth I; "why wilt thou not let me +Tell all my tale, like any other man, +Since that it is the best rime that I can?" +"Mass!" quoth our Host, "if that I hear aright, +Thy scraps of rhyming are not worth a mite; +Thou dost nought else but waste away our time:- +Sir, at one word, thou shalt no longer rhyme." + + + +CHAUCER'S FRIAR'S TALE; or, THE SUMNER AND THE DEVIL +MODERNISED BY LEIGH HUNT. + + +There lived, sirs, in my country, formerly, +A wondrous great archdeacon,--who but he? +Who boldly did the work of his high station +In punishing improper conversation, +And all the slidings thereunto belonging; +Witchcraft, and scandal also, and the wronging +Of holy Church, by blinking of her dues +In sacraments and contracts, wills and pews; +Usury furthermore, and simony; +But people of ill lives most loathed he: +Lord! how he made them sing if they were caught. +And tithe-defaulters, ye may guess, were taught +Never to venture on the like again; +To the last farthing would he rack and strain. +For stinted tithes, or stinted offering, +He made the people piteously to sing. +He left no leg for the good bishop's crook; +Down went the black sheep in his own black book; +For when the name gat there, such dereliction +Came, you must know, sirs, in his jurisdiction. + + He had a Sumner ready to his hand; +A slyer bully filched not in the land; +For in all parts the villain had his spies +To let him know where profit might arise. +Well could he spare ill livers, three or four, +To help his net to four-and-twenty more. +'Tis truth. Your Sumner may stare hard for me; +I shall not screen, not I, his villainy; +For heaven be thanked, laudetur Dominus, +They have no hold, these cursed thieves, on us; +Nor never shall have, let 'em thieve till doom. + + ["No," cried the Sumner, starting from his gloom, +"Nor have we any hold, Sir Shaven-crown, +On your fine flock, the ladies of the town." + "Peace, with a vengeance," quoth our Host, "and let +The tale be told. Say on, thou marmoset, +Thou lady's friar, and let the Sumner sniff."] + + "Well," quoth the Friar; "this Sumner, this false thief, +Had scouts in plenty ready to his hand, +Like any hawks, the sharpest in the land, +Watching their birds to pluck, each in his mew, +Who told him all the secrets that they knew, +And lured him game, and gat him wondrous profit; +Exceeding little knew his master of it. +Sirs, he would go, without a writ, and take +Poor wretches up, feigning it for Christ's sake, +And threatening the poor people with his curse, +And all the while would let them fill his purse, +And to the alehouse bring him by degrees, +And then he'd drink with them, and slap his knees +For very mirth, and say 'twas some mistake. +Judas carried the bag, sirs, for Christ's sake, +And was a thief; and such a thief was he; +His master got but sorry share, pardie. +To give due laud unto this Satan's imp, +He was a thief, a Sumner, and a pimp. + + Wenches themselves were in his retinue; +So whether 'twas Sir Robert, or Sir Hugh, +Or Jack, or Ralph, that held the damsel dear, +Come would she then, and tell it in his ear: +Thus were the wench and he of one accord; +And he would feign a mandate from his lord, +And summon them before the court, those two, +And pluck the man, and let the mawkin go. +Then would he say, "Friend, for thine honest look, +I save thy name, this once, from the black book; +Thou hear'st no further of this case."--But, Lord! +I might not in two years his bribes record. +There's not a dog alive, so speed my soul, +Knoweth a hurt deer better from a whole +Than this false Sumner knew a tainted sheep, +Or where this wretch would skulk, or that would sleep, +Or to fleece both was more devoutly bent; +And reason good; his faith was in his rent. + + And so befell, that once upon a day, +This Sumner, prowling ever for his prey, +Rode forth to cheat a poor old widowed soul, +Feigning a cause for lack of protocol, +And as he went, he saw before him ride +A yeoman gay under the forest side. +A bow he bare, and arrows bright and keen; +And he was clad in a short cloak of green, +And wore a hat that had a fringe of black. + + "Sir," quoth this Sumner, shouting at his back, +"Hail, and well met."--"Well met," like shouteth he; +"Where ridest thou under the greenwood tree? +Goest thou far, thou jolly boy, to-day?" + This bully Sumner answered, and said, "Nay, +Only hard-by, to strain a rent."--"Hoh! hoh! +Art thou a bailiff then?"--"Yea, even so." +For he durst not, for very filth and shame, +Say that he was a Sumner, for the name. + "Well met, in God's name," quoth black fringe; "why, brother, +Thou art a bailiff then, and I'm another; +But I'm a stranger in these parts; so, prythee, +Lend me thine aid, and let me journey with thee. +I've gold and silver, plenty, where I dwell; +And if thou hap'st to come into our dell, +Lord! how we'll do our best to give thee greeting!" + "Thanks," quoth the Sumner; "merry be our meeting." +So in each other's hand their troths they lay, +And swear accord: and forth they ride and play. + + This Sumner then, which was as full of stir, +And prate, and prying, as a woodpecker, +And ever inquiring upon everything, +Said, "Brother, where is thine inhabiting, +In case I come to find thee out some day?" + + This yeoman dropped his speech in a soft way, +And said, "Far in the north. But ere we part, {42} +I trow thou shalt have learnt it so by heart, +Thou mayst not miss it, be it dark as pitch." + + "Good," quoth the Sumner. "Now, as thou art rich, +Show me, dear brother, riding thus with me, +Since we are bailiffs both, some subtlety, +How I may play my game best, and may win: +And spare not, pray, for conscience or for sin, +But, as my brother, tell me how do ye." + + "Why, 'faith, to tell thee a plain tale," quoth he, +"As to my wages, they be poor enough; +My lord's a dangerous master, hard and chuff; +And since my labour bringeth but abortion, +I live, so please ye, brother, by extortion, +I take what I can get; that is my course; +By cunning, if I may; if not, by force; +So cometh, year by year, my salary." + "Now certes," quote the Sumner, "so fare I. +I lay my hands on everything, God wot, +Unless it be too heavy or too hot. +What I may get in counsel, privily, +I feel no sort of qualm thereon, not I. +Extortion or starvation;--that's my creed. +Repent who list. The best of saints must feed. +That's all the stomach that my conscience knoweth. +Curse on the ass that to confession goeth. +Well be we met, 'Od's heart! and by my dame! +But tell me, brother dear, what is thy name?" + + Now ye must know, that right in this meanwhile, +This yeoman 'gan a little for to smile. +"Brother," quoth he, "my name, if I must tell - +I am a fiend: my dwelling is in hell: +And here I ride about my fortuning, +To wot if folk will give me anything. +To that sole end ride I, and ridest thou; +And, without pulling rein, will I ride now +To the world's end, ere I will lose a prey." + + "God bless me," quoth the Sumner, "what d'ye say? +I thought ye were a yeoman verily. +Ye have a man's shape, sir, as well as I. +Have ye a shape then, pray, determinate +In hell, good sir, where ye have your estate?" + + "Nay, certainly," quoth he, "there have we none; +But whoso liketh it, he taketh one; +And so we make folk think us what we please. +Sometimes we go like apes, sometimes like bees, +Like man, or angel, black dog, or black crow:- +Nor is it wondrous that it should be so. +A sorry juggler can bewilder thee; +And 'faith, I think I know more craft than he." + + "But why," inquired the Sumner, "must ye don +So many shapes, when ye might stick to one?" + "We suit the bait unto the fish," quoth he. +"And why," quoth t'other, "all this slavery?" + "For many a cause, Sir Sumner," quoth the fiend; +"But time is brief--the day will have an end; +And here jog I, with nothing for my ride; +Catch we our fox, and let this theme abide: +For, brother mine, thy wit it is too small +To understand me, though I told thee all; +And yet, as toucheth that same slavery, +A devil must do God's work, 'twixt you and me; +For without Him, albeit to our loathing, +Strong as we go, we devils can do nothing; +Though to our prayers, sometimes, He giveth leave +Only the body, not the soul, to grieve. +Witness good Job, whom nothing could make wrath; +And sometimes have we power to harass both; +And, then again, soul only is possest, +And body free; and all is for the best. +Full many a sinner would have no salvation, +Gat it he not by standing our temptation: +Though God He knows, 'twas far from our intent +To save the man:- his howl was what we meant. +Nay, sometimes we be servants to our foes: +Witness the saint that pulled my master's nose; +And to the apostle servant eke was I." + "Yet tell me," quoth this Sumner, "faithfully, +Are the new shapes ye take for your intents +Fresh every time, and wrought of elements?" + "Nay," quoth the fiend, "sometimes they be disguises; +And sometimes in a corpse a devil rises, +And speaks as sensibly, and fair, and well, +As did the Pythoness to Samuel: +And yet will some men say, it was not he! +Lord help, say I, this world's divinity. +Of one thing make thee sure; that thou shalt know, +Before we part, the shapes we wear below. +Thou shalt--I jest thee not--the Lord forbid! +Thou shalt know more than ever Virgil did, +Or Dante's self. So let us on, sweet brother, +And stick, like right warm souls, to one another: +I'll never quit thee, till thou quittest me." + + "Nay," quoth the Sumner, "that can never be; +I am a man well known, respectable; +And though thou wert the very lord of hell, +Hold thee I should as mine own plighted brother: +Doubt not we'll stick right fast, each to the other: +And, as we think alike, so will we thrive: +We twain will be the merriest devils alive. +Take thou what's given; for that's thy mode, God wot; +And I will take, whether 'tis given or not. +And if that either winneth more than t'other, +Let him be true, and share it with his brother." + + "Done," quoth the fiend, whose eyes in secret glowed; +And with that word they pricked along the road: +And soon it fell, that entering the town's end, +To which this Sumner shaped him for to wend, +They saw a cart that loaded was with hay, +The which a carter drove forth on his way. +Deep was the mire, and sudden the cart stuck: +The carter, like a madman, smote and struck, +And cried, "Heit, Scot; heit, Brock! What! is't the stones? +The devil clean fetch ye both, body and bones: +Must I do nought but bawl and swinge all day? +Devil take the whole--horse, harness, cart, and hay." + + The Sumner whispered to the fiend, "I' faith, +We have it here. Hear'st thou not what he saith? +Take it anon, for he hath given it thee, +Live stock and dead, hay, cart, and horses three!" + + "Nay," quoth the fiend, "not so;--the deuce a bit. +He sayeth; but, alas! not meaneth it: +Ask him thyself, if thou believ'st not me; +Or else be still awhile, and thou shalt see." + + Thwacketh the man his horses on the croup, +And they begin to draw now, and to stoop. +"Heit there," quoth he; "heit, heit; ah, matthywo. +Lord love their hearts! how prettily they go! +That was well twitched, methinks, mine own grey boy: +I pray God save thy body, and Saint Eloy. +Now is my cart out of the slough, pardie." + + "There," quoth the fiend unto the Sumner; "see, +I told thee how 'twould fall. Thou seest, dear brother, +The churl spoke one thing, but he thought another. +Let us prick on, for we take nothing here." + + And when from out the town they had got clear, +The Sumner said, "Here dwelleth an old witch, +That had as lief be tumbled in a ditch +And break her neck, as part with an old penny. +Nathless her twelve pence is as good as any, +And I will have it, though she lose her wits; +Or else I'll cite her with a score of writs: +And yet, God wot, I know of her no vice. +So learn of me, Sir Fiend: thou art too nice." + + The Sumner clappeth at the widow's gate. +"Come out," he saith, "thou hag, thou quiver-pate: +I trow thou hast some friar or priest with thee." + "Who clappeth?" said this wife; "ah, what say ye? +God save ye, masters: what is your sweet will?" + "I have," said he, "of summons here a bill: +Take care, on pain of cursing, that thou be +To-morrow morn, before the Archdeacon's knee, +To answer to the court of certain things." + + "Now, Lord," quoth she, "sweet Jesu, King of kings, +So help me, as I cannot, sirs, nor may: +I have been sick, and that full many a day. +I may not walk such distance, nay, nor ride, +But I be dead, so pricketh it my side. +La! how I cough and quiver when I stir! - +May I not ask some worthy officer +To speak for me, to what the bill may say?" + + "Yea, certainly," this Sumner said, "ye may, +On paying--let me see--twelve pence anon. +Small profit cometh to myself thereon: +My master hath the profit, and not I. +Come--twelve pence, mother--count it speedily, +And let me ride: I may no longer tarry." + + "Twelve pence!" quoth she; "now may the sweet Saint Mary +So wisely help me out of care and sin, +As in this wide world, though I sold my skin, +I could not scrape up twelve pence, for my life. +Ye know too well I am a poor old wife: +Give alms, for the Lord's sake, to me, poor wretch." + + "Nay, if I quit thee then," quoth he, "devil fetch +Myself, although thou starve for it, and rot." + "Alas!" quoth she, "the pence I have 'em not." +"Pay me," quoth he, "or by the sweet Saint Anne, +I'll bear away thy staff and thy new pan +For the old debt thou ow'st me for that fee, +Which out of pocket I discharged for thee, +When thou didst make thy husband an old stag." + "Thou liest," quoth she; "so leave me never a rag, +As I was never yet, widow nor wife, +Summonsed before your court in all my life, +Nor never of my body was untrue. +Unto the devil, rough and black of hue, +Give I thy body, and the pan to boot." + + And when this devil heard her give the brute +Thus in his charge, he stooped into her ear, +And said, "Now, Mabily, my mother dear, +Is this your will in earnest that ye say?" + "The devil," quoth she, "so fetch him cleanaway, +Soul, pan, and all, unless that he repent." + "Repent!" the Sumner cried; "pay up your rent, +Old fool; and don't stand preaching here to me. +I would I had thy whole inventory, +The smock from off thy back, and every cloth." + + "Now, brother," quoth the devil, "be not wroth; +Thy body and this pan be mine by right, +And thou shalt straight to hell with me to-night, +Where thou shalt know what sort of folk we be, +Better than Oxford university." + + And with that word the fiend him swept below, +Body and soul. He went where Sumners go. + + + +CHAUCER'S REVE'S TALE +MODERNISED BY R. H. HORNE. + + + +THE REVE'S PROLOGUE. + +When all had laughed at this right foolish case +Of Absalom and credulous Nicholas, {49} +Diverse folk diversely their comments made. +But, for the most part, they all laughed and played, +Nor at this tale did any man much grieve, +Unless indeed 'twas Oswald, our good Reve. +Because that he was of the carpenter craft, +In his heart still a little ire is left. +He gan to grudge it somewhat, as scarce right; +"So aid me!" quoth he; "I could such requite +By throwing dust in a proud millers eye, +If that I chose to speak of ribaldry. +But I am old; I cannot play for age; +Grass-time is done--my fodder is now forage; +This white top sadly writeth mine old years; +Mine heart is also mouldy'd as mine hairs: +And since I fare as doth the medlar tree, +That fruit which time grows ever the worse to be +Till it be rotten in rubbish and in straw. + + "We old men, as I fear, the same lot draw; +Till we be rotten can we not be ripe. +We ever hop while that the world will pipe; +For in our will there sticketh ever a nail, +To have a hoary head and a green tail, +As hath a leek; for though our strength be lame, +Our will desireth folly ever the same; +For when our climbing's done, our words aspire; +Still in our ashes old is reeking fire. {50} + + "Four hot coals have we, which I will express: +Boasting, lying, anger, and covetousness. +These burning coals are common unto age, +Our old limbs well may stumble o'er the stage, +But will shall never fail us, that is sooth. +Still in my head was always a colt's tooth, +As many a year as now is passed and done, +Since that my tap of life began to run. +For certainly when I was born, I trow, +Death drew the tap of life, and let it flow; +And ever since the tap so fast hath run, +That well-nigh empty now is all the tun. +The stream of life but drips from time to time; +The silly tongue may well ring out and chime +Of wretchedness, that passed is of yore: +With aged folk, save dotage, there's nought more." + + When that our Host had heard this sermoning, +He gan to speak as lordly as a king; +And said, "Why, what amounteth all this wit? +What! shall we speak all day of Holy Writ? +The devil can make a steward fit to preach, +Or of a cobbler a sailor, or a leech. +Say forth thy tale; and tarry not the time. +Lo Deptford! and the hour is half-way prime: +Lo Greenwich! there where many a shrew loves sin - +It were high time thy story to begin." + + "Now, fair sirs," quoth this Oswald, the old Reve, +"I pray you all that you yourselves ne'er grieve, +Though my reply should somewhat fret his nose; +For lawful 'tis with force, force to oppose. +This drunken Miller hath informed us here +How that some folks beguiled a carpenter - +Perhaps in scorn that I of yore was one. +So, by your leave, him I'll requite anon. +In his own churlish language will I speak, +And pray to Heaven besides his neck may break. +A small stalk in mine eye he sees, I deem, +But in his own he cannot see a beam. + + +THE REVE'S TALE. + + +At Trumpington, near Cambridge, if you look, +There goeth a bridge, and under that a brook, +Upon which brook there stood a flour-mill; +And this is a known fact that now I tell. +A Miller there had dwelt for many a day; +As any peacock he was proud and gay. +He could pipe well, and fish, mend nets, to boot, +Turn cups with a lathe, and wrestle well, and shoot. +A Norman dirk, as brown as is a spade, +Hung by his belt, and eke a trenchant blade. +A jolly dagger bare he in his pouch: +There was no man, for peril, durst him touch. +A Sheffield clasp-knife lay within his hose. +Round was his face, and broad and flat his nose. +High and retreating was his bald ape's skull: +He swaggered when the market-place was full. +There durst no wight a hand lift to resent it, +But soon, this Miller swore, he should repent it. + + A thief he was, forsooth, of corn and meal, +A sly one, too, and used long since to steal. +Disdainful Simkin was he called by name. +A wife he had; of noble kin she came: +The rector of the town her father was. +With her he gave full many a pan of brass, +That Simkin with his blood should thus ally. +She had been brought up in a nunnery; +For Simkin ne'er would take a wife, he said, +Unless she were well tutored and a maid, +To carry on his line of yeomanry: +And she was proud and pert as is a pie. +It was a pleasant thing to see these two: +On holidays before her he would go, +With his large tippet bound about his head; +While she came after in a gown of red, +And Simkin wore his long hose of the same. +There durst no wight address her but as dame: +None was so bold that passed along the way +Who with her durst once toy or jesting play, +Unless he wished the sudden loss of life +Before Disdainful Simkin's sword or knife. +(For jealous folk most fierce and perilous grow; +And this they always wish their wives to know.) +But since that to broad jokes she'd no dislike +She was as pure as water in a dyke, +And with abuse all filled and froward air. +She thought that ladies should her temper bear, +Both for her kindred and the lessons high +That had been taught her in the nunnery. + + These two a fair and buxom daughter had, +Of twenty years; no more since they were wed, +Saving a child, that was but six months old; +A little boy in cradle rocked and rolled. +This daughter was a stout and well-grown lass, +With broad flat nose, and eyes as grey as glass. +Broad were her hips; her bosom round and high; +But right fair was she here--I will not lie. + + The rector of the town, as she was fair, +A purpose had to make her his sole heir, +Both of his cattle and his tenement; +But only if she married as he meant. +It was his purpose to bestow her high, +Into some worthy blood of ancestry: +For holy Church's good must be expended +On holy Church's blood that is descended; +Therefore he would his holy Church honour, +Although that holy Church he should devour. + + Great toll and fee had Simkin, out of doubt, +With wheat and malt, of all the land about, +And in especial was the Soler Hall - +A college great at Cambridge thus they call - +Which at this mill both wheat and malt had ground. +And on a day it suddenly was found, +Sick lay the Manciple of a malady; +And men for certain thought that he must die. +Whereon this Miller both of corn and meal +An hundred times more than before did steal; +For, ere this chance, he stole but courteously, +But now he was a thief outrageously. +The Warden scolded with an angry air; +But this the Miller rated not a tare: +He sang high bass, and swore it was not so! + + There were two scholars young, and poor, I trow, +That dwelt within the Hall of which I say. +Headstrong they were and lusty for to play; +And merely for their mirth and revelry, +Out to the Warden eagerly they cry, +That be should let them, for a merry round, +Go to the mill and see their own corn ground, +And each would fair and boldly lay his neck +The Miller should not steal them half a peck +Of corn by sleight, nor by main force bereave. + + And at the last the Warden gave them leave: +One was called John, and Allen named the other; +From the same town they came, which was called Strauther, +Far in the North--I cannot tell you where. + + This Allen maketh ready all his gear, +And on a horse the sack he cast anon: +Forth go these merry clerks, Allen and John, +With good sword and with buckler by their side. +John knew the way, and needed not a guide; +And at the mill the sack adown he layeth. + + Allen spake first:- "Simon, all hail! in faith, +How fares thy daughter, and thy worthy wife?" + "Allen," quoth Simkin, "welcome, by my life; +And also John:- how now! what do ye here?" + "Simon," quoth John, "compulsion has no peer. +They who've nae lackeys must themselves bestir, +Or else they are but fools, as clerks aver. +Our Manciple, I think, will soon be dead, +Sae slowly work the grinders in his head; +And therefore am I come with Allen thus, +To grind our corn, and carry it hame with us: +I pray you speed us, that we may be gone." + + Quoth Simkin, "By my faith it shall be done; +What will ye do while that it is in hand?" + "Gude's life! right by the hopper will I stand," +(Quoth John), "and see how that the corn goes in. +I never yet saw, by my father's kin, +How that the hopper waggles to and fro." + + Allen continued,--"John, and wilt thou so? +Then will I be beneath it, by my crown, +And see how that the meal comes running down +Into the trough--and that shall be my sport. +For, John, like you, I'm of the curious sort; +And quite as bad a miller--so let's see!" + + This Miller smiled at their 'cute nicety, +And thought,--all this is done but for a wile; +They fancy that no man can them beguile: +But, by my thrift, I'll dust their searching eye, +For all the sleights in their philosophy. +The more quaint knacks and guarded plans they make, +The more corn will I steal when once I take: +Instead of flour, I'll leave them nought but bran: +The greatest clerks are not the wisest men. +As whilom to the wolf thus spake the mare: +Of all their art I do not count a tare. + + Out at the door he goeth full privily, +When that he saw his time, and noiselessly: +He looketh up and down, till he hath found +The clerks' bay horse, where he was standing bound +Under an ivy wall, behind the mill: +And to the horse he goeth him fair and well, +And strippeth off the bridle in a trice. + + And when the horse was loose he 'gan to race +Unto the wild mares wandering in the fen, +With WEHEE! WHINNY! right through thick and thin! +This Miller then returned; no word he said, +But doth his work, and with these clerks he played, +Till that their corn was well and fairly ground. +And when the meal is sacked and safely bound +John goeth out, and found his horse was gone, +And cried aloud with many a stamp and groan, +"Our horse is lost! Allen, 'od's banes! I say, +Up on thy feet!--come off, man--up, away! +Alas! our Warden's palfrey, it is gone!" + + Allen at once forgot both meal and corn - +Out of his mind went all his husbandry - +"What! whilk way is he gone?" he 'gan to cry. + + The Miller's wife came laughing inwardly, +"Alas!" said she, "your horse i' the fens doth fly +After wild mares as fast as he can go! +Ill-luck betide the man that bound him so, +And his that better should have knit the rein." + + "Alas!" quoth John, "good Allen, haste amain; +Lay down thy sword, as I will mine also; +Heaven knoweth I am as nimble as a roe; +He shall not 'scape us baith, or my saul's dead! +Why didst not put the horse within the shed? +By the mass, Allen, thou'rt a fool, I say!" + + Those silly clerks have scampered fast away +Unto the fen; Allen and nimble John: +And when the Miller saw that they were gone, +He half a bushel of their flour doth take, +And bade his wife go knead it in a cake. +He said, "I trow these clerks feared what they've found; +Yet can a miller turn a scholar round +For all his art. Yea, let them go their way! +See where they run! yea, let the children play: +They get him not so lightly, by my crown." + + The simple clerks go running up and down, +With "Soft, soft!--stand, stand!--hither!--back ! take care! +Now whistle thou, and I shall keep him here!" +But, to be brief, until the very night +They could not, though they tried with all their might, +The palfrey catch; he always ran so fast: +Till in a ditch they caught him at the last. + + Weary and wet as beasts amid the rain, +Allen and John come slowly back again. +"Alas," quoth John, "that ever I was born! +Now are we turned into contempt and scorn. +Our corn is stolen; fools they will us call; +The Warden, and our college fellows all, +And 'specially the Miller--'las the day!" + + Thus plaineth John while going by the way +Toward the mill, the bay nag in his hand. +The Miller sitting by the fire they found, +For it was night: no further could they move; +But they besought him, for Heaven's holy love, +Lodgment and food to give them for their penny. + + And Simkin answered, "If that there be any, +Such as it is, yet shall ye have your part. +My house is small, but ye have learned art; +Ye can, by arguments, well make a place +A mile broad, out of twenty foot of space! +Let's see now if this place, as 'tis, suffice; +Or make more room with speech, as is your guise." + "Now, Simon, by Saint Cuthbert," said this John, +"Thou'rt ever merry, and that's answered soon. +I've heard that man must needs choose o' twa things; +Such as he finds, or else such as he brings. +But specially I pray thee, mine host dear, +Let us have meat and drink, and make us cheer, +And we shall pay you to the full, be sure: +With empty hand men may na' hawks allure. +Lo! here's our siller ready to be spent!" + + The Miller to the town his daughter sent +For ale and bread, and roasted them a goose; +And bound their horse; he should no more get loose; +And in his own room made for them a bed, +With blankets, sheets, and coverlet well spread: +Not twelve feet from his own bed did it stand. +His daughter, by herself, as it was planned, +In a small passage closet, slept close by: +It might no better be, for reasons why, - +There was no wider chamber in the place. +They sup, and jest, and show a merry face, +And drink of ale, the strongest and the best. +It was just midnight when they went to rest. + + Well hath this Simkin varnished his hot head; +Full pale he was with drinking, and nought red. +He hiccougheth, and speaketh through the nose, +As with the worst of colds, or quinsy's throes. +To bed he goeth, and with him trips his wife; +Light as a jay, and jolly seemed her life, +So was her jolly whistle well ywet. +The cradle at her bed's foot close she set +To rock, or nurse the infant in the night. +And when the jug of ale was emptied quite, +To bed, likewise, the daughter went anon: +To bed goes Allen; with him also John. +All's said: they need no drugs from poppies pale, +This Miller hath so wisely bibbed of ale; +But as an horse he snorteth in his sleep, +And blurteth secrets which awake he'd keep. +His wife a burden bare him, and full strong: +Men might their routing hear a good furlong. +The daughter routeth else, par compagnie. + + Allen, the clerk, that heard this melody, +Now poketh John, and said, "Why sleepest thou? +Heardest thou ever sic a song ere now? +Lo, what a serenade's among them all! +A wild-fire red upon their bodies fall! +Wha ever listened to sae strange a thing? +The flower of evil shall their ending bring. +This whole night there to me betides no rest. +But, courage yet, all shall be for the best; +For, John," said he, "as I may ever thrive, +To pipe a merrier serenade I'll strive +In the dark passage somewhere near to us; +For, John, there is a law which sayeth thus, - +That if a man in one point be aggrieved, +Right in another he shall be relieved: +Our corn is stolen--sad yet sooth to say - +And we have had an evil bout to-day; +But since the Miller no amends will make, +Against our loss we should some payment take. +His sonsie daughter will I seek to win, +And get our meal back--de'il reward his sin! +By hallow-mass it shall no otherwise be!" + + But John replied, "Allen, well counsel thee: +The Miller is a perilous man," he said, +"And if he wake and start up from his bed, +He may do both of us a villainy." + "Nay," Allen said, "I count him not a flie!" +And up he rose, and crept along the floor +Into the passage humming with their snore: +As narrow was it as a drum or tub. +And like a beetle doth he grope and grub, +Feeling his way with darkness in his hands, +Till at the passage-end he stooping stands. + + John lieth still, and not far off, I trow, +And to himself he maketh ruth and woe. +"Alas," quoth he, "this is a wicked jape! +Now may I say that I am but an ape. +Allen may somewhat quit him for his wrong: +Already can I hear his plaint and song; +So shall his 'venture happily be sped, +While like a rubbish-sack I lie in bed; +And when this jape is told another day, +I shall be called a fool, or a cokenay! +I will adventure somewhat, too, in faith: +'Weak heart, worse fortune,' as the proverb saith." + + And up he rose at once, and softly went +Unto the cradle, as 'twas his intent, +And to his bed's foot bare it, with the brat. +The wife her routing ceased soon after that, +And woke, and left her bed; for she was pained +With nightmare dreams of skies that madly rained. +Eastern astrologers and clerks, I wis, +In time of Apis tell of storms like this. +Awhile she stayed, and waxeth calm in mind; +Returning then, no cradle doth she find, +And gropeth here and there--but she found none. +"Alas," quoth she, "I had almost misgone! +I well-nigh stumbled on the clerks a-bed: +Eh benedicite! but I am safely sped. +And on she went, till she the cradle found, +While through the dark still groping with her hand. + + Meantime was heard the beating of a wing, +And then the third cock of the morn 'gan sing. +Allen stole back, and thought, "Ere that it dawn +I will creep in by John that lieth forlorn." +He found the cradle in his hand, anon. +"Gude Lord!" thought Allen, "all wrong have I gone! +My head is dizzy with the ale last night, +And eke my piping, that I go not right. +Wrong am I, by the cradle well I know: +Here lieth Simkin, and his wife also." +And, scrambling forthright on, he made his way +Unto the bed where Simkin snoring lay! +He thought to nestle by his fellow John, +And by the Miller in he crept, anon, +And caught him by the neck, and 'gan to shake, +And said, "Thou John! thou swine's head dull, awake! +Wake, by the mass! and hear a noble game, +For, by St. Andrew! to thy ruth and shame, +I have been trolling roundelays this night, +And won the Miller's daughter's heart outright, +Who hath me told where hidden is our meal: +All this--and more--and how they always steal; +While thou hast as a coward lain aghast!" + + "Thou slanderous ribald!" quoth the Miller, "hast? +A traitor false, false lying clerk!" quoth he, +"Thou shalt be slain by heaven's dignity, +Who rudely dar'st disparage with foul lie +My daughter that is come of lineage high!" +And by the throat he Allen grasped amain; +And caught him, yet more furiously, again, +And on his nose he smote him with his fist! +Down ran the bloody stream upon his breast, +And on the floor they tumble, heel and crown, +And shake the house--it seemed all coming down. +And up they rise, and down again they roll; +Till that the Miller, stumbling o'er a coal, +Went plunging headlong like a bull at bait, +And met his wife, and both fell flat as slate. +"Help, holy cross of Bromeholm!" loud she cried, +"And all ye martyrs, fight upon my side! +In manus tuas--help!--on thee I call! +Simon, awake! the fiend on me doth fall: +He crusheth me--help!--I am well-nigh dead: +He lieth along my heart, and heels, and head. +Help, Simkin! for the false clerks rage and fight!" + + Now sprang up John as fast as ever he might, +And graspeth by the dark walls to and fro +To find a staff: the wife starts up also. +She knew the place far better than this John, +And by the wall she caught a staff anon. +She saw a little shimmering of a light, +For at an hole in shone the moon all bright, +And by that gleam she saw the struggling two, +But knew not, as for certain, who was who, +Save that she saw a white thing in her eye. +And when that she this white thing 'gan espy, +She thought that Allen did a nightcap wear, +And with the staff she drew near, and more near, +And, thinking 'twas the clerk, she smote at full +Disdainful Simkin on his bald ape's skull. +Down goes the Miller, crying, "Harow, I die!" +These clerks they beat him well, and let him lie. +They make them ready, and take their horse anon, +And eke their meal, and on their way are gone; +And from behind the mill-door took their cake, +Of half a bushel of flour--a right good bake. + + + +CHAUCER'S POEM OF THE CUCKOO AND THE NIGHTINGALE +MODERNISED BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH. + + + +1. +The God of Love--ah, benedicite! +How mighty and how great a Lord is he! +For he of low hearts can make high, of high +He can make low, and unto death bring nigh; +And hard hearts he can make them kind and free. + +2. +Within a little time, as hath been found, +He can make sick folk whole and fresh and sound; +Them who are whole in body and in mind +He can make sick,--bind can he and unbind +All that he will have bound, or have unbound. + +3. +To tell his might my wit may not suffice; +Foolish men he can make them out of wise; - +For he may do all that he will devise; +Loose livers he can make abate their vice, +And proud hearts can make tremble in a trice. + +4. +In brief, the whole of what he will, he may; +Against him dare not any wight say nay; +To humble or afflict whome'er he will, +To gladden or to grieve, he hath like skill; +But most his might he sheds on the eve of May. + +5. +For every true heart, gentle heart and free, +That with him is, or thinketh so to be, +Now against May shall have some stirring--whether +To joy, or be it to some mourning; never +At other time, methinks, in like degree. + +6. +For now when they may hear the small birds' song, +And see the budding leaves the branches throng. +This unto their remembrance doth bring +All kinds of pleasure mixed with sorrowing, +And longing of sweet thoughts that ever long. + +7. +And of that longing heaviness doth come, +Whence oft great sickness grows of heart and home; +Sick are they all for lack of their desire; +And thus in May their hearts are set on fire, +So that they burn forth in great martyrdom. + +8. +In sooth, I speak from feeling, what though now +Old am I, and to genial pleasure slow; +Yet have I felt of sickness through the May, +Both hot and cold, and heart-aches every day, - +How hard, alas! to bear, I only know. + +9. +Such shaking doth the fever in me keep, +Through all this May that I have little sleep; +And also 'tis not likely unto me, +That any living heart should sleepy be +In which love's dart its fiery point doth steep. + +10. +But tossing lately on a sleepless bed, +I of a token thought which lovers heed; +How among them it was a common tale, +That it was good to hear the nightingale, +Ere the vile cuckoo's note be uttered. + +11. +And then I thought anon as it was day, +I gladly would go somewhere to essay +If I perchance a nightingale might hear, +For yet had I heard none, of all that year, +And it was then the third night of the May. + +12. +And soon as I a glimpse of day espied, +No longer would I in my bed abide, +But straightway to a wood, that was hard by, +Forth did I go, alone and fearlessly, +And held the pathway down by a brook-side; + +13. +Till to a lawn I came all white and green, +I in so fair a one had never been. +The ground was green, with daisy powdered over; +Tall were the flowers, the grove a lofty cover, +All green and white; and nothing else was seen. + +14. +There sate I down among the fresh fair flowers, +And saw the birds come tripping from their bowers, +Where they had rested them all night; and they, +Who were so joyful at the light of day, +Began to honour May with all their powers. + +15. +Well did they know that service all by rote, +And there was many and many a lovely note; +Some singing loud, as if they had complained; +Some with their notes another manner feigned; +And some did sing all out with the full throat. + +16. +They pruned themselves, and made themselves right gay, +Dancing and leaping light upon the spray; +And ever two and two together were, +The same as they had chosen for the year, +Upon Saint Valentine's returning day. + +17. +Meanwhile the stream, whose bank I sate upon, +Was making such a noise as it ran on +Accordant to the sweet birds' harmony; +Methought that it was the best melody +Which ever to man's ear a passage won. + +18. +And for delight, but how I never wot, +I in a slumber and a swoon was caught, +Not all asleep, and yet not waking wholly; +And as I lay, the Cuckoo bird unholy +Broke silence, or I heard him in my thought. + +19. +And that was right upon a tree fast by, +And who was then ill-satisfied but I? +"Now, God," quoth I, "that died upon the rood, +From thee and thy base throat, keep all that's good, +Full little joy have I now of thy cry." + +20. +And, as I with the Cuckoo thus 'gan chide, +In the next bush that was me fast beside, +I heard the lusty Nightingale so sing, +That her clear voice made a loud rioting, +Echoing thorough all the green wood wide. + +21. +"Ah! good sweet Nightingale! for my heart's cheer, +Hence hast thou stayed a little while too long; +For we have heard the sorry Cuckoo here, +And she hath been before thee with her song; +Evil light on her! she hath done me wrong." + +22. +But hear you now a wondrous thing, I pray; +As long as in that swooning fit I lay, +Methought I wist right well what these birds meant, +And had good knowing both of their intent, +And of their speech, and all that they would say. + +23. +The Nightingale thus in my hearing spake: +"Good Cuckoo, seek some other bush or brake +And, prithee, let us that can sing dwell here; +For every wight eschews thy song to hear, +Such uncouth singing verily dost thou make." + +24. +"What!" quoth she then, "what is't that ails thee now? +It seems to me I sing as well as thou; +For mine's a song that is both true and plain, - +Although I cannot quaver so in vain +As thou dost in thy throat, I wot not how. + +25. +"All men may understanding have of me, +But, Nightingale, so may they not of thee; +For thou hast many a foolish and quaint cry:- +Thou say'st OSEE, OSEE; then how may I +Have knowledge, I thee pray, what this may be?" + +26. +"Ah, fool!" quoth she, "wist thou not what it is? +Oft as I say OSEE, OSEE, I wis, +Then mean I, that I should be wondrous fain +That shamefully they one and all were slain, +Whoever against Love mean aught amiss. + +27. +"And also would I that they all were dead +Who do not think in love their life to lead; +For who is loth the God of Love to obey +Is only fit to die, I dare well say, +And for that cause OSEE I cry; take heed!" + +28. +"Ay," quoth the Cuckoo, "that is a quaint law, +That all must love or die; but I withdraw, +And take my leave of all such company, +For mine intent it neither is to die, +Nor ever while I live Love's yoke to draw. + +29. +"For lovers of all folk that be alive, +The most disquiet have and least do thrive; +Most feeling have of sorrow's woe and care, +And the least welfare cometh to their share; +What need is there against the truth to strive?" + +30. +"What!" quoth she, "thou art all out of thy mind, +That in thy churlishness a cause canst find +To speak of Love's true Servants in this mood; +For in this world no service is so good +To every wight that gentle is of kind. + +31. +"For thereof comes all goodness and all worth; +All gentleness and honour thence come forth; +Thence worship comes, content and true heart's pleasure, +And full-assured trust, joy without measure, +And jollity, fresh cheerfulness, and mirth: + +32. +"And bounty, lowliness, and courtesy, +And seemliness, and faithful company, +And dread of shame that will not do amiss; +For he that faithfully Love's servant is, +Rather than be disgraced, would choose to die. + +33. +"And that the very truth it is which I +Now say--in such belief I'll live and die; +And Cuckoo, do thou so, by my advice." + "Then," quoth she, "let me never hope for bliss, +If with that counsel I do e'er comply. + +34. +"Good Nightingale! thou speakest wondrous fair, +Yet, for all that, the truth is found elsewhere; +For Love in young folk is but rage, I wis; +And Love in old folk a great dotage is; +Whom most it useth, him 'twill most impair. + +35. +"For thereof come all contraries to gladness; +Thence sickness comes, and overwhelming sadness, +Mistrust and jealousy, despite, debate, +Dishonour, shame, envy importunate, +Pride, anger, mischief, poverty and madness. + +36. +"Loving is aye an office of despair, +And one thing is therein which is not fair; +For whoso gets of love a little bliss, +Unless it alway stay with him, I wis +He may full soon go with an old man's hair. + +37. +"And, therefore, Nightingale! do thou keep nigh, +For trust me well, in spite of thy quaint cry, +If long time from thy mate thou be, or far, +Thou'lt be as others that forsaken are; +Then shalt thou raise a clamour as do I." + +38. +"Fie," quoth she, "on thy name, Bird ill beseen! +The God of Love afflict thee with all teen, +For thou art worse than mad a thousandfold; +For many a one hath virtues manifold +Who had been nought, if Love had never been. + +39. +"For evermore his servants Love amendeth, +And he from every blemish them defendeth; +And maketh them to burn, as in a fire, +In loyalty and worshipful desire, +And when it likes him, joy enough them sendeth." + +40. +"Thou Nightingale!" the Cuckoo said, "be still; +For Love no reason hath but his own will; - +For to th' untrue he oft gives ease and joy; +True lovers doth so bitterly annoy, +He lets them perish through that grievous ill. + +41. +"With such a master would I never be, +For he, in sooth, is blind, and may not see, +And knows not when he hurts and when he heals; +Within this court full seldom truth avails, +So diverse in his wilfulness is he." + +42. +Then of the Nightingale did I take note, +How from her inmost heart a sigh she brought, +And said, "Alas! that ever I was born, +Not one word have I now, I am so forlorn," - +And with that word, she into tears burst out. + +43. +"Alas, alas! my very heart will break," +Quoth she, "to hear this churlish bird thus speak +Of Love, and of his holy services; +Now, God of Love! thou help me in some wise, +That vengeance on this Cuckoo I may wreak." + +44. +And so methought I started up anon, +And to the brook I ran, and got a stone, +Which at the Cuckoo hardily I cast, +And he for dread did fly away full fast; +And glad, in sooth, was I when he was gone. + +45. +And as he flew, the Cuckoo ever and aye +Kept crying, "Farewell!--farewell, popinjay!" +As if in scornful mockery of me; +And on I hunted him from tree to tree, +Till he was far, all out of sight, away. + +46. +Then straightway came the Nightingale to me, +And said, "Forsooth, my friend, do I thank thee, +That thou wert near to rescue me; and now, +Unto the God of Love I make a vow, +That all this May I will thy songstress be." + +47. +Well satisfied, I thanked her, and she said, +"By this mishap no longer be dismayed, +Though thou the Cuckoo heard, ere thou heard'st me; +Yet if I live it shall amended be, +When next May comes, if I am not afraid. + +48. +"And one thing will I counsel thee also, +The Cuckoo trust not thou, nor his Love's saw; +All that she said is an outrageous lie." + "Nay, nothing shall me bring thereto," quoth I, +"For Love, and it hath done me mighty woe." + +49. +"Yea, hath it? Use," quoth she, "this medicine, +This May-time, every day before thou dine, +Go look on the fresh daisy; then say I, +Although for pain thou may'st be like to die, +Thou wilt be eased, and less wilt droop and pine. + +50. +"And mind always that thou be good and true, +And I will sing one song, of many new, +For love of thee, as loud as I may cry;" +And then did she begin this song full high, +"Beshrew all them that are in love untrue." + +51. +And soon as she had sung it to the end, +"Now farewell," quoth she, "for I hence must wend; +And, God of Love, that can right well and may, +Send unto thee as mickle joy this day +As ever he to lover yet did send." + +52. +Thus takes the Nightingale her leave of me; +I pray to God with her always to be, +And joy of love to send her evermore; +And shield us from the Cuckoo and her lore, +For there is not so false a bird as she. + +53. +Forth then she flew, the gentle Nightingale, +To all the birds that lodged within that dale, +And gathered each and all into one place; +And them besought to hear her doleful case, +And thus it was that she began her tale:- + +54. +"The Cuckoo--'tis not well that I should hide +How she and I did each the other chide, +And without ceasing, since it was daylight; +And now I pray you all to do me right +Of that false Bird whom Love can not abide." + +55. +Then spake one Bird, and full assent all gave: +"This matter asketh counsel good as grave, +For birds we are--all here together brought; +And, in good sooth, the Cuckoo here is not; +And therefore we a parliament will have. + +56. +"And thereat shall the Eagle be our Lord, +And other Peers whose names are on record; +A summons to the Cuckoo shall be sent, +And judgment there be given; or that intent +Failing, we finally shall make accord. + +57. +"And all this shall be done, without a nay, +The morrow after Saint Valentine's day, +Under a maple that is well beseen, +Before the chamber-window of the Queen, +At Woodstock, on the meadow green and gay." + +58. +She thanked them; and then her leave she took, +And flew into a hawthorn by that brook; +And there she sate and sung--upon that tree, - +"For term of life Love shall have hold of me!" +So loudly, that I with that song awoke. + +Unlearned Book and rude, as well I know, +For beauty thou hast none, nor eloquence, +Who did on thee the hardiness bestow +To appear before my Lady? but a sense +Thou surely hast of her benevolence, +Whereof her hourly bearing proof doth give; +For of all good, she is the best alive. + +Alas, poor Book! for thy unworthiness, +To show to her some pleasant meanings writ +In winning words, since through her gentleness, +Thee she accepts as for her service fit; +Oh! it repents me I have neither wit +Nor leisure unto thee more worth to give; +For of all good, she is the best alive. + +Beseech her meekly with all lowliness, +Though I be far from her I reverence, +To think upon my truth and steadfastness, +And to abridge my sorrow's violence, +Caused by the wish, as knows your sapience, +She of her liking, proof to me would give; +For of all good, she is the best alive. + + + +L'ENVOY. + +Pleasure's Aurora, Day of gladsomeness! +Lucerne, by night, with heavenly influence +Illumined! root of beauty and goodness, +Write, and allay, by your beneficence, +My sighs breathed forth in silence,--comfort give! +Since of all good, you are the best alive. + +EXPLICIT. + + + +TREASURE TROVE +MODERNISED FROM THE FIFTH BOOK OF GOWER'S "CONFESSIO AMANTIS." + + + +In ancient Chronicle I read:- +About a King, as it must need, +There was of Knights and of Squiers +Great rout, and eke of Officers. +Some for a long time him had served, +And thought that they had well deserved +Advancement, but had gone without; +And some also were of the Rout +That only came the other day +And were advanced without delay. +Those Older Men upon this thing, +So as they durst, against the King +Among themselves would murmur oft. +But there is nothing said so soft +That it shall not come out at last, +The King soon knew what Words had passed. +A King he was of high Prudence, +He shaped therefore an Evidence +Of them that plained them in that case, +To know of whose Default it was. +And all within his own intent, +That not a man knew what it meant, +He caused two Coffers to be made +Alike in Shape, and Size, and Shade, +So like that no man, by their Show, +The one may from the other know. +They were into his Chamber brought, +But no man knew why they were wrought; +Yet from the King Command hath come +That they be set in private Room, +For he was in his Wisdom keen. +When he thereto his time had seen, +Slily, away from all the rest, +With his own hands he filled one Chest, +Full of fine Gold and Jewelry +The which out of his Treasury +Was taken; after that he thrust +Into the other Straw and Dust, +And filled it up with Stones also; +Full Coffers are they, both the two. + +And early then upon a day +He bade within doors where he lay +That there should be before his Bed +A Board set up and fairly spread. +The Coffers then he let men get, +And on the Board he had them set. +Full well he knew the Names of those +Whose Murmurings against him rose, +Both of his Chamber and his Hall, +And speedily sent for them all, +And said unto them in this wise: + +"There shall no man his Hap despise; +I know well that ye long have served, +And God knows what ye have deserved. +Whether it is along of me +That ye still unadvanced be, +Or whether it belong of you, +The Sooth is to be proved now, +Wherewith to stop your Evil Word. +Lo here two Coffers on the Board, +Of both the two choose which you will, +And know that ye may have your fill +Of Treasure heaped and packed in one, +That if ye happen thereupon +Ye shall be made Rich Men for ever. +Now choose and take which you is liever. +But be well ware, ere that ye take, - +For of the one I undertake +There is no manner good therein +Whereof ye might a Profit win. +Now go together of one assent +And take your own Advisement. +Whether I you this day advance +Stands only on your Choice and Chance. +No question here of Royal Grace, +It shall be showed in this place +Upon you all, and well and fine, +If Fortune fails by Fault of mine." + +They all kneel down, and with one voice +They thank the King for this free Choice; +And after this they up arise +And go aside and them advise, +And at the last they all accord; +Whereof their Finding to record +To what Issue their Voices fall, +A Knight shall answer for them all. + +He kneeleth down unto the King +And saith, that they upon this thing +Or for to win or for to lose +Are all decided how to choose. +Then took this Knight a Rod in hand +And goes to where the Coffers stand, +And with the Assent of every one +He layeth his Rod upon one, +And tells the King they only want +Him that for their Reward to grant, +And pray him that they might it have. +The King, who would his Honour save, +When he hath heard the common Voice, +Hath granted them their own free Choice, +And gave them thereupon the Key. +But as he would that men might see +What Good they got, as they suppose, +He bade anon the Coffer unclose, - +Which was filled full with Straw and Stone; +Thus are they served, the Luck's their own. + +"Lo," saith the King, "now may ye see +That there is no Default in me; +Therefore myself I will acquit, +Bear ye the Blame now, as is fit, +For that which Fortune you refused." +Thus was this wise old King excused, +And they left off their evil Speech, +And Mercy of their King beseech. + +Touching like matter to the quick, +I find a Tale how Frederick, +At that time Emperor of Rome, +Heard, as he went, a Clamour come +From two poor Beggars on the way. +The one of them began to say, +"Ha, Lord, the man is rich indeed +To whom a King's Wealth brings his Speed!" +The other said, "It is not so, +But he is rich and well-to-do +To whom God pleases Wealth to send." +And thus their Words went without end, +Whereto this Lord hath given ear +And caused both Beggars to appear +Straight at his Palace, there to eat; +And bade provide them for their Meat +Two Pasties which men were to make, +And in the one a Capon bake, +And in the other, Wealth to win, +Of Florins all that may within +He bade them put a great Richesse, +And just alike, as one may guess, +Outward they were, to Sight of Men. + +This Beggar was commanded then, +He that had held him to the King, +That he first choose upon this thing. +He saw them, but he felt them not, +So that upon his single Thought +He chose the Capon, and forsook +That other, which his Fellow took. + +But when he wist how that it fared, +He said aloud, that men it heard: +"Now have I certainly conceived +That he may lightly be deceived +Who puts his trust in Help of Man. +He's rich whom God helps, for he can +Stand ever on the safer side +That else on Vain Hope had relied. +I see my Fellow well supplied, +And still a Poor Man I abide." +Thus spake the Beggar his intent, +And poor he came, and poor he went; +Of all the Riches that he sought +His evil Fortune gave him nought. + +And right as it with those men stood, +Of evil Hap in worldly Good, +As thou hast heard me tell above, +Right so, full oft, it stands by Love; +Though thou desire it evermore +Thou shalt not have a whit the more, +But only what is meant for thee, +Of all the rest not worth a Pea. +And yet a long and endless Row +There be of Men who covet so +That whereas they a Woman see, +To ten or twelve though there may be, +The Love is now so little wise +That where the Beauty takes his Eyes +Anon the Man's whole Heart is there +And whispers Tales into her Ear, +And says on her his Love is set, +And thus he sets him to covet. +A hundred though he saw a day, +So would he have more than he may; +In each of them he finds somewhat +That pleaseth him, or this or that. +Some one, for she is white of skin, +Some one, for she is noble of kin, +Some one, for she hath a ruddy cheek, +Some one, for that she seemeth meek, +Some one, for that her eyes are gray, +Some one, for she can laugh and play, +Some one, for she is long and small, +Some one, for she is lithe and tall, +Some one, for she is pale and bleach, +Some one, for she is soft of speech, +Some one, for that her nose turns down, +Some one, for that she hath a frown, +Some one, for she can dance and sing; +So that of what he likes something +He finds, and though no more he feel +But that she hath a little heel, +It is enough that he therefore +Her love; and thus an hundred score +While they be new he would he had, +Whom he forsakes, she shall be bad. +So the Blind Man no Colour sees, +All's one to take as he may please; +And his Desire is darkly minded +Whom Covetise of Love hath blinded. + + + +LONDON LICKPENNY +BY JOHN LYDGATE. + + + +To London once my steps I bent, + Where truth in nowise should be faint; +To Westminster-ward I forthwith went, + To a man of law to make complaint, + I said, "For Mary's love, that holy saint, + Pity the poor that would proceed!" + But for lack of Money I could not speed. + +And as I thrust the press among, + By froward chance my hood was gone, +Yet for all that I stayed not long + Till to the King's Bench I was come. + Before the judge I kneeled anon, + And prayed him for God's sake to take heed. + But for lack of Money I might not speed. + +Beneath them sat clerks a great rout, + Which fast did write by one assent, +There stood up one and cried about, + "Richard, Robert, and John of Kent!" + I wist not well what this man meant, + He cried so thickly there indeed. + But he that lacked Money might not speed + +Unto the Common Pleas I yode tho, {81} + Where sat one with a silken hood; +I did him reverence, for I ought to do so, + And told my case as well as I could, + How my goods were defrauded me by falsehood. + I got not a mum of his mouth for my meed, + And for lack of Money I might not speed. + +Unto the Rolls I gat me from thence, + Before the clerks of the Chancerie, +Where many I found earning of pence, + But none at all once regarded me. + I gave them my plaint upon my knee; + They liked it well when they had it read, + But lacking Money I could not be sped. + +In Westminster Hall I found out one + Which went in a long gown of ray, {82a} +I crouched and kneeled before him anon, + For Mary's love of help I him pray. + "I wot not what thou mean'st," gan he say; + To get me thence he did me bede: + For lack of Money I could not speed. + +Within this Hall, neither rich nor yet poor + Would do for me aught although I should die. +Which seeing, I got me out of the door + Where Flemings began on me for to cry, + "Master, what will you copen or buy? {82b} + Fine felt hats, or spectacles to read? + Lay down your silver, and here you may speed." + +Then to Westminster Gate I presently went, + When the sun was at highe prime; +Cooks to me they took good intent, + And proffered me bread with ale and wine, + Ribs of beef, both fat and full fine; + A fair cloth they gan for to sprede, + But wanting Money I might not then speed. + +Then unto London I did me hie, + Of all the land it beareth the prize. +"Hot peascods!" one began to cry, + "Strawberry ripe!" and "Cherries in the rise!" {82c} + One bade me come near and buy some spice, + Pepper and saffron they gan me bede, + But for lack of Money I might not speed. + +Then to the Cheap I began me drawn, + Where much people I saw for to stand; +One offered me velvet, silk, and lawn, + Another he taketh me by the hand, + "Here is Paris thread, the finest in the land!" + I never was used to such things indeed, + And wanting Money I might not speed. + +Then went I forth by London Stone, + Throughout all Can'wick Street. {83} +Drapers much cloth me offered anon; + Then comes me one cried, "Hot sheep's feet!" + One cried, "Mackerel!" "Rushes green!" another gan greet; + One bade me buy a hood to cover my head, + But for want of Money I might not be sped, + +Then I hied me into East Cheap; + One cries "Ribs of beef," and many a pie; +Pewter pots they clattered on a heap, + There was harp, pipe, and minstrelsie. + "Yea, by cock!" "Nay, by cock!" some began cry; + Some sung of Jenkin and Julian for their meed, + But for lack of Money I might not speed. + +Then into Cornhill anon I yode, + Where was much stolen gear among; +I saw where hung mine owne hood + That I had lost among the throng: + To buy my own hood I thought it wrong; + I knew it well as I did my Creed, + But for lack of Money I could not speed. + +The taverner took me by the sleeve, + "Sir," saith he, "will you our wine assay?" +I answered, "That cannot much me grieve, + A penny can do no more than it may." + I drank a pint, and for it I did pay. + Yet soon ahungered from thence I yede, + And wanting Money I could not speed. + +Then hied I me to Billingsgate, + And one cried, "Hoo! Go we hence!" +I prayed a barge man, for God's sake, + That he would spare me my expence. + "Thou scrap'st not here," quoth he, "under two pence; + I list not yet bestow any alms deed." + Thus lacking Money I could not speed. + +Then I conveyed me into Kent; + For of the law would I meddle no more, +Because no man to me took intent, + I dight me to do as I did before. + Now Jesus, that in Bethlehem was bore, + Save London, and send true lawyers their meed! + For whoso wants Money with them shall not speed. + + + +BICORN AND CHICHEVACHE +BY JOHN LYDGATE. + + + +First there shall stand an image in Poet-wise, saying these verses:- + +O prudent folkes, taketh heed, + And remembreth in your lives +How this story doth proceed + Of the husbands and their wives, + Of their accord and their strives, + With life or death which to darrain {85a} + Is granted to these beastes twain. + +Then shall be pourtrayed two beasts, one fat; another lean. + +For this Bicorn of his nature + Will none other manner food, +But patient husbands his pasture, + And Chichevache eat'th the women good; + And both these beastes, by the Rood, + Be fat or lean, it may not fail, + Like lack or plenty of their vitail. + +Of Chichevache and of Bicorn, {85b} + Treateth wholly this matere, +Whose story hath taught us beforn + How these beastes both infere {85c} + Have their pasture, as you shall hear, + Of men and women in sentence + Through suffrance or through impatience. + +Then shall be pourtrayed a fat beast called Bicorn, of the country +of Bicornis, and say these three verses following:- + +"Of Bicornis I am Bicorn, + Full fat and round here as I stand, +And in marriage bound and sworn + To Chichevache as her husband, + Which will not eat on sea nor land + But patient wives debonair, + Which to their husbands be n't contraire + +"Full scarce, God wot, is her vitail, + Humble wives she finds so few, +For always at the contre tail + Their tongue clappeth and doth hew. + Such meeke wives I beshrew, + That neither can at bed ne board + Their husbands not forbear one word. + +"But my food and my cherishing, + To tell plainly and not to vary, +Is of such folks which, their living, + Dare to their wives be not contrary, + Ne from their lustes dare not vary, + Nor with them hold no champarty, {86a} + All such my stomach will defy." {86b} + +Then shall be pourtrayed a company of men coming towards this beast +Bicornis, and say these four ballads:- + +"Fellows, take heed and ye may see + How Bicorn casteth him to devour +All humble men, both you and me, + There is no gain may us succour; + Wo be therefore in hall and bower + To all those husbands which, their lives, + Make mistresses of their wives. + +"Who that so doth, this is the law, + That this Bicorn will him oppress +And devouren in his maw + That of his wife makes his mistress; + This will us bring in great distress, + For we, for our humility, + Of Bicorn shall devoured be. + +"We standen plainly in such case, + For they to us mistresses be; +We may well sing and say, 'Alas, + That we gave them the sovereigntie! + For we ben thrall and they be free. + Wherefore Bicorn, this cruel beast, + Will us devouren at the least. + +"But who that can be sovereign, + And his wife teach and chastise, +That she dare not a word gainsain + Nor disobey in no manner wise, + Of such a man I can devise + He stands under protection + From Bicornis jurisdiction." + +Then shall there be a woman devoured in the mouth of Chichevache, +crying to all wives, and say this verse:- + +"O noble wives, be well ware, + Take example now by me; +Or else affirme well I dare + Ye shall be dead, ye shall not flee; + Be crabbed, void humilitie, + Or Chichevache ne will not fail + You for to swallow in his entrail." + +Then shall there be pourtrayed a long-horned beast, slender and +lean, with sharp teeth, and on her body nothing but skin and bone. + +"Chichevache, this is my name, + Hungry, meagre, slender, and lean, +To show my body I have great shame, + For hunger I feel so great teen; {88c} + On me no fatness will be seen, + Because that pasture I find none, + Therefore I am but skin and bone. + +"For my feeding in existence + Is of women that be meek, +And like Grisield in patience + Or more their bounty for to eke; + But I full long may go and seek + Ere I can find a good repast, + A morrow to break with my fast. + +"I trow there be a dear year + Of patient women now-a-days. +Who grieveth them with word or cheer + Let him beware of such assays; + For it is more than thirty Mays + That I have sought from lond to lond, + But yet one Grisield ne'er I fond. + +"I found but one in all my live, + And she was dead ago full yore; +For more pasture I will not strive + Nor seeke for my food no more. + Ne for vitail me to restore; + Women ben woxen so prudent {88a} + They will no more be patient." + +Then shall be pourtrayed, after Chichevache, an old man with a baton +on his back, menacing the beast for devouring of his wife. + +"My wife, alas, devoured is, + Most patient and most pesible! +She never said to me amiss, + Whom now hath slain this beast horrible! + And for it is an impossible + To find again e'er such a wife + I will live sole all my life. + +"For now of newe, for their prow, {88b} + The wives of full high prudence +Have of assent made their avow + T' exile for ever patience, + And cried wolfs-head obedience, + To make Chichevache fail + Of them to finde more vitail. + +Now Chichevache may fast long + And die for all her cruelty, +Women have made themselves so strong + For to outrage humility. + O silly husbands, wo ben ye! + Such as can have no patience + Against your wives violence. + +If that ye suffer, ye be but dead, + Bicorn awaiteth you so sore; +Eke of your wives go stand in dread, + If ye gainsay them any more! + And thus ye stand, and have done yore, + Of life and death betwixt coveyne {89} + Linked in a double chain. + + + +BEST TO BE BLYTH +BY WILLIAM DUNBAR. + + + +Full oft I muse, and hes in thocht +How this fals Warld is ay on flocht, + Quhair no thing ferme is nor degest; {91a} {91d} +And when I haif my mynd all socht, + For to be blyth me think it best. + +This warld ever dois flicht and wary, {91b} +Fortoun sa fast hir quheill dois cary, + Na tyme but turning can tak rest; {91e} +For quhois fats change suld none be sary, + For to be blyth me think it best. + +Wald men considdir in mynd richt weill, +Or Fortoun on him turn hir quheill, + That erdly honour may nocht lest, +His fall less panefull he suld feill; + For to be blyth me think it best. + +Quha with this warld dois warsill and stryfe, {91c} +And dois his dayis in dolour dryfe, + Thocht he in lordschip be possest, +He levis bot ane wrechit lyfe: + For to be blyth me think it best. + +Off warldis gud and grit richess, +Quhat fruct hes man but merriness? + Thocht he this warld had eist and west, +All wer povertie but glaidness: + For to be blyth me think it best. + +Quho suld for tynsall drowp or de, {92a} +For thyng that is bot vanitie; + Sen to the lyfe that evir dois lest, +Heir is bot twynkling of an ee: + For to be blyth me think it best. + +Had I for warldis unkyndness +In hairt tane ony heviness, + Or fro my plesans bene opprest; +I had bene deid lang syne dowtless: + For to be blyth me think it best. + +How evir this warld do change and vary, +Lat us in hairt nevir moir be sary, + But evir be reddy and addrest +To pass out of this frawfull fary: {92b} + For to be blyth me think it best. + + + +DOWSABELL +BY MICHAEL DRAYTON. + + + +Far in the country of Arden +There woned a knight, hight Cassamen, {93d} + As bold as Isenbras: +Fell was he and eager bent +In battle and in tournament + As was good Sir Topas. + +He had, as antique stories tell, +A daughter cleped Dowsabell, + A maiden fair and free. +And for she was her fathers heir, +Full well she was yconned the leir {93a} {93b} + Of mickle courtesie. + +The silk well couth she twist and twine, +And make the fine marche pine, {93c} + And with the needle work; +And she couth help the priest to say +His matins on a holiday, + And sing a psalm in kirk. + +She ware a frock of frolic green +Might well become a maiden queen, + Which seemly was to see; +A hood to that so neat and fine, +In colour like the columbine, + Inwrought full featously. + +Her features all as fresh above +As is the grass that grows by Dove, + And lithe as lass of Kent. +Her skin as soft as Lemster wool, {94a} +And white as snow on Peakish hull, {94b} + Or swan that swims in Trent. + +This maiden, in a morn betime, +Went forth, when May was in the prime, + To get sweet setiwall, {94c} +The honeysuckle, the harlock, {94d} +The lily and the lady-smock, {94k} + To deck her summer-hall. {94e} + +Thus, as she wandered here and there, +And picked of the bloomy brere, + She chanced to espy +A shepherd sitting on a bank, +Like chanticleer he crowed crank, {94f} + And piped full merrily. + +He learned his sheep as he him list, {94g} +When he would whistle in his fist, + To feed about him round, +Whilst he full many a carol sang, +Until the fields and meadows rang, + And that the woods did sound. + +In favour this same shepherd swain +Was like the bedlam Tamburlaine + Which held proud kings in awe. +But meek as any lamb mought be, +And innocent of ill as he + Whom his lewd brother slaw. + +This shepherd ware a sheep-gray cloke, +Which was of the finest loke + That could be cut with shear; +His mittens were of bauzon's skin, {94h} +His cockers were of cordiwin, {94i} {94j} + His hood of minivere. + +His awl and lingell in a thong; {95a} +His tarbox on his broadbelt hung, + His breech of Cointree blue. +Full crisp and curled were his locks, +His brows as white as Albion rocks, + So like a lover true. + +And piping still he spent the day +So merry as the popinjay, + Which liked Dowsabell, +That would she ought, or would she nought, +This lad would never from her thought, + She in love-longing fell. + +At length she tucked up her frock, +White as the lily was her smock; + She drew the shepherd nigh; +But then the shepherd piped a good, +That all the sheep forsook their food, + To hear his melodie. + +"Thy sheep," quoth she, "cannot be lean +That have a jolly shepherd swain + The which can pipe so well." +"Yea, but," saith he, "their shepherd may, +If piping thus he pine away + In love of Dowsabell." + +"Of love, fond boy, take then no keep," {95b} +Quoth she; "Look well unto thy sheep, + Lest they should hap to stray." +Quoth he, "So had I done full well, +Had I not seen fair Dowsabell + Come forth to gather may." + +With that she 'gan to vail her head, +Her cheeks were like the roses red, + But not a word she said. +With that the shepherd 'gan to frown, +He threw his pretty pipes adown, + And on the ground him laid. + +Saith she, "I may not stay till night +And leave my summer-hall undight, + And all for love of thee." +"My cote," saith he, "nor yet my fold +Shall neither sheep nor shepherd hold, + Except thou favour me." + +Saith she, "Yet liever were I dead +Than I should [yield me to be wed], + And all for love of men." +Saith he, "Yet are you too unkind +If in your heart you cannot find + To love us now and then. + +"And I to thee will be as kind +As Colin was to Rosalind + Of courtesy the flower." +"Then will I be as true," quoth she, +"As ever maiden yet might be + Unto her paramour." + +With that she bent her snow-white knee +Down by the shepherd kneeled she, + And him she sweetly kist. +With that the shepherd whooped for joy. +Quoth he, "There's never shepherd's boy + That ever was so blist." + + + +NYMPHIDIA, THE COURT OF FAIRY +By MICHAEL DRAYTON. + + + +Old Chaucer doth of Topas tell, +Mad Rabelais of Pantagruel, +A later third of Dowsabel + With such poor trifles playing; +Others the like have laboured at, +Some of this thing and some of that, +And many of they knew not what, + But what they may be saying. + +Another sort there be, that will +Be talking of the Fairies still, +For never can they have their fill, + As they were wedded to them; +No tales of them their thirst can slake, +So much delight therein they take, +And some strange thing they fain would make, + Knew they the way to do them. + +Then since no Muse hath been so bold, +Or of the later, or the old, +Those elvish secrets to unfold, + Which lie from others' reading; +My active Muse to light shall bring +The court of that proud Fairy King, +And tell there of the revelling. + Jove prosper my proceeding! + +And thou, Nymphidia, gentle Fay, +Which, meeting me upon the way, +These secrets didst to me bewray, + Which now I am in telling; +My pretty, light, fantastic maid, +I here invoke thee to my aid, +That I may speak what thou hast said, + In numbers smoothly swelling. + +This palace standeth in the air, +By necromancy placed there, +That it no tempest needs to fear, + Which way soe'er it blow it. +And somewhat southward tow'rds the noon, +Whence lies a way up to the moon, +And thence the Fairy can as soon + Pass to the earth below it. + +The walls of spiders' legs are made +Well mortised and finely laid; +It was the master of his trade + It curiously that builded; +The windows of the eyes of cats, +And for the roof, instead of slats, +Is covered with the skins of bats, + With moonshine that are gilded. + +Hence Oberon him sport to make, +Their rest when weary mortals take, +And none but only fairies wake, + Descendeth for his pleasure; +And Mab, his merry Queen, by night +Bestrides young folks that lie upright, +(In elder times the mare that hight), + Which plagues them out of measure. + +Hence shadows, seeming idle shapes, +Of little frisking elves and apes +To earth do make their wanton scapes, + As hope of pastime hastes them; +Which maids think on the hearth they see +When fires well-nigh consumed be, +There dancing hays by two and three, {98} + Just as their fancy casts them. + +These make our girls their sluttery rue, +By pinching them both black and blue, +And put a penny in their shoe + The house for cleanly sweeping; +And in their courses make that round +In meadows and in marshes found, +Of them so called the Fairy Ground, + Of which they have the keeping. + +These when a child haps to be got +Which after proves an idiot +When folk perceive it thriveth not, + The fault therein to smother, +Some silly, doting, brainless calf +That understands things by the half, +Say that the Fairy left this oaf + And took away the other. + +But listen, and I shall you tell +A chance in Faery that befell, +Which certainly may please some well, + In love and arms delighting, +Of Oberon that jealous grew +Of one of his own Fairy crew, +Too well, he feared, his Queen that knew, + His love but ill requiting. + +Pigwiggin was this Fairy Knight, +One wondrous gracious in the sight +Of fair Queen Mab, which day and night + He amorously observed; +Which made King Oberon suspect +His service took too good effect, +His sauciness had often checkt, + And could have wished him sterved. + +Pigwiggin gladly would commend +Some token to Queen Mab to send, +If sea or land him aught could lend + Were worthy of her wearing; +At length this lover doth devise +A bracelet made of emmets' eyes, +A thing he thought that she would prize, + No whit her state impairing. + +And to the Queen a letter writes, +Which he most curiously indites, +Conjuring her by all the rites + Of love, she would be pleased +To meet him, her true servant, where +They might, without suspect or fear, +Themselves to one another clear + And have their poor hearts eased. + +At midnight, the appointed hour; +"And for the Queen a fitting bower," +Quoth he, "is that fair cowslip flower + On Hient Hill that bloweth; {100} +In all your train there's not a fay +That ever went to gather may +But she hath made it, in her way, + The tallest there that groweth." + +When by Tom Thumb, a Fairy Page, +He sent it, and doth him engage +By promise of a mighty wage + It secretly to carry; +Which done, the Queen her maids doth call, +And bids them to be ready all: +She would go see her summer hall, + She could no longer tarry. + +Her chariot ready straight is made, +Each thing therein is fitting laid, +That she by nothing might be stayed, + For nought must be her letting; +Four nimble gnats the horses were, +Their harnesses of gossamere, +Fly Cranion the charioteer + Upon the coach-box getting. + +Her chariot of a snail's fine shell, +Which for the colours did excel, +The fair Queen Mab becoming well, + So lively was the limning; +The seat the soft wool of the bee, +The cover, gallantly to see, +The wing of a pied butterfly; + I trow 'twas simple trimming. + +The wheels composed of cricket's bones, +And daintily made for the nonce, +For fear of rattling on the stones + With thistle-down they shod it; +For all her maidens much did fear +If Oberon had chanced to hear +That Mab his Queen should have been there, + He would not have abode it. + +She mounts her chariot with a trice, +Nor would she stay, for no advice, +Until her maids that were so nice + To wait on her were fitted; +But ran herself away alone, +Which when they heard, there was not one +But hasted after to be gone, + As he had been diswitted. + +Hop and Mop and Drop so clear, +Pip and Trip and Skip that were +To Mab, their sovereign, ever dear, + Her special maids of honour; +Fib and Tib and Pink and Pin, +Tick and Quick and Jill and Jin, +Tit and Nit and Wap and Win, + The train that wait upon her. + +Upon a grasshopper they got +And, what with amble, what with trot, +For hedge and ditch they spared not, + But after her they hie them; +A cobweb over them they throw, +To shield the wind if it should blow, +Themselves they wisely could bestow + Lest any should espy them. + +But let us leave Queen Mab awhile, +Through many a gate, o'er many a stile, +That now had gotten by this wile, + Her dear Pigwiggin kissing; +And tell how Oberon doth fare, +Who grew as mad as any hare +When he had sought each place with care, + And found his Queen was missing. + +By grisly Pluto he doth swear, +He rent his clothes and tore his hair, +And as he runneth here and there + An acorn cup he greeteth, +Which soon he taketh by the stalk, +About his head he lets it walk, +Nor doth he any creature balk, + But lays on all he meeteth. + +The Tuscan Poet doth advance, +The frantic Paladin of France, +And those more ancient do enhance + Alcides in his fury, +And others Aiax Telamon, +But to this time there hath been none +So Bedlam as our Oberon, + Of which I dare assure ye. + +And first encountering with a Wasp, +He in his arms the fly doth clasp +As though his breath he forth would grasp, + Him for Pigwiggin taking: +"Where is my wife, thou rogue?" quoth be; +"Pigwiggin, she is come to thee; +Restore her, or thou diest by me!" + Whereat the poor Wasp quaking + +Cries, "Oberon, great Fairy King, +Content thee, I am no such thing: +I am a Wasp, behold my sting!" + At which the Fairy started; +When soon away the Wasp doth go, +Poor wretch, was never frighted so; +He thought his wings were much too slow, + O'erjoyed they so were parted. + +He next upon a Glow-worm light, +You must suppose it now was night, +Which, for her hinder part was bright, + He took to be a devil, +And furiously doth her assail +For carrying fire in her tail; +He thrashed her rough coat with his flail; + The mad King feared no evil. + +"Oh!" quoth the Glow-worm, "hold thy hand, +Thou puissant King of Fairy-land! +Thy mighty strokes who may withstand? + Hold, or of life despair I!" +Together then herself doth roll, +And tumbling down into a hole +She seemed as black as any coal; + Which vext away the Fairy. + +From thence he ran into a hive: +Amongst the bees he letteth drive, +And down their combs begins to rive, + All likely to have spoiled, +Which with their wax his face besmeared, +And with their honey daubed his beard: +It would have made a man afeared + To see how he was moiled. + +A new adventure him betides; +He met an Ant, which he bestrides, +And post thereon away he rides, + Which with his haste doth stumble; +And came full over on her snout, +Her heels so threw the dirt about, +For she by no means could get out, + But over him doth tumble. + +And being in this piteous case, +And all be-slurred head and face, +On runs he in this wild-goose chase, + As here and there he rambles; +Half blind, against a mole-hill hit, +And for a mountain taking it, +For all he was out of his wit + Yet to the top he scrambles. + +And being gotten to the top, +Yet there himself he could not stop, +But down on th' other side doth chop, + And to the foot came rumbling; +So that the grubs, therein that bred, +Hearing such turmoil over head, +Thought surely they had all been dead; + So fearful was the jumbling. + +And falling down into a lake, +Which him up to the neck doth take, +His fury somewhat it doth slake; + He calleth for a ferry; +Where you may some recovery note; +What was his club he made his boat, +And in his oaken cup doth float, + As safe as in a wherry. + +Men talk of the adventures strange +Of Don Quixoit, and of their change +Through which he armed oft did range, + Of Sancho Pancha's travel; +But should a man tell every thing +Done by this frantic Fairy King, +And them in lofty numbers sing, + It well his wits might gravel. + +Scarce set on shore, but therewithal +He meeteth Puck, which most men call +Hobgoblin, and on him doth fall, + With words from frenzy spoken: +"Oh, oh," quoth Hob, "God save thy grace! +Who drest thee in this piteous case? +He thus that spoiled my sovereign's face, + I would his neck were broken!" + +This Puck seems but a dreaming dolt, +Still walking like a ragged colt, +And oft out of a bush doth bolt, + Of purpose to deceive us; +And leading us makes us to stray, +Long winter's nights, out of the way; +And when we stick in mire and clay, + Hob doth with laughter leave us. + +"Dear Puck," quoth he, "my wife is gone: +As e'er thou lov'st King Oberon, +Let everything but this alone, + With vengeance and pursue her; +Bring her to me alive or dead, +Or that vile thief, Pigwiggin's head, +That villain hath [my Queen misled]; + He to this folly drew her." + +Quoth Puck, "My liege, I'll never lin, +But I will thorough thick and thin, +Until at length I bring her in; + My dearest lord, ne'er doubt it." +Thorough brake, thorough briar, +Thorough muck, thorough mire, +Thorough water, thorough fire; + And thus goes Puck about it. + +This thing Nymphidia overheard, +That on this mad king had a guard, +Not doubting of a great reward, + For first this business broaching; +And through the air away doth go, +Swift as an arrow from the bow, +To let her sovereign Mab to know + What peril was approaching. + +The Queen, bound with Love's powerful charm, +Sate with Pigwiggin arm in arm; +Her merry maids, that thought no harm, + About the room were skipping; +A humble-bee, their minstrel, played +Upon his hautboy, every maid +Fit for this revel was arrayed, + The hornpipe neatly tripping. + +In comes Nymphidia, and doth cry, +"My sovereign, for your safety fly, +For there is danger but too nigh; + I posted to forewarn you: +The King hath sent Hobgoblin out, +To seek you all the fields about, +And of your safety you may doubt, + If he but once discern you." + +When, like an uproar in a town, +Before them everything went down; +Some tore a ruff, and some a gown, + 'Gainst one another justling; +They flew about like chaff i' th' wind; +For haste some left their masks behind; +Some could not stay their gloves to find; + There never was such bustling. + +Forth ran they, by a secret way, +Into a brake that near them lay; +Yet much they doubted there to stay, + Lest Hob should hap to find them; +He had a sharp and piercing sight, +All one to him the day and night; +And therefore were resolved, by flight, + To leave this place behind them. + +At length one chanced to find a nut, +In th' end of which a hole was cut, +Which lay upon a hazel root, + There scattered by a squirrel +Which out the kernel gotten had; +When quoth this Fay, "Dear Queen, be glad; +Let Oberon be ne'er so mad, + I'll set you safe from peril. + +"Come all into this nut," quoth she, +"Come closely in; be ruled by me; +Each one may here a chooser be, + For room ye need not wrastle: +Nor need ye be together heaped;" +So one by one therein they crept, +And lying down they soundly slept, + And safe as in a castle. + +Nymphidia, that this while doth watch, +Perceived if Puck the Queen should catch +That he should be her over-match, + Of which she well bethought her; +Found it must be some powerful charm, +The Queen against him that must arm, +Or surely he would do her harm, + For throughly he had sought her. + +And listening if she aught could hear, +That her might hinder, or might fear; +But finding still the coast was clear; + Nor creature had descried her; +Each circumstance and having scanned, +She came thereby to understand, +Puck would be with them out of hand; + When to her charms she hied her. + +And first her fern-seed doth bestow, +The kernel of the mistletoe; +And here and there as Puck should go, + With terror to affright him, +She night-shade strews to work him ill, +Therewith her vervain and her dill, +That hindreth witches of their will, + Of purpose to despite him. + +Then sprinkles she the juice of rue, +That groweth underneath the yew; +With nine drops of the midnight dew, + From lunary distilling: +The molewarp's brain mixed therewithal; {108a} +And with the same the pismire's gall: +For she in nothing short would fall, + The Fairy was so willing. + +Then thrice under a briar doth creep, +Which at both ends was rooted deep, +And over it three times she leap; + Her magic much availing: +Then on Proserpina doth call, +And so upon her spell doth fall, +Which here to you repeat I shall, + Not in one tittle failing. + +"By the croaking of a frog; +By the howling of the dog; +By the crying of the hog + Against the storm arising; +By the evening curfew bell, +By the doleful dying knell, +O let this my direful spell, + Hob, hinder thy surprising! + +"By the mandrake's dreadful groans; {108b} +By the lubrican's sad moans; {108c} +By the noise of dead men's bones + In charnel-houses rattling; +By the hissing of the snake, +The rustling of the fire-drake, {108d} +I charge thee thou this place forsake, + Nor of Queen Mab be prattling! + +"By the whirlwind's hollow sound, +By the thunder's dreadful stound, +Yells of spirits underground, + I charge thee not to fear us; +By the screech-owl's dismal note, +By the black night-raven's throat, +I charge thee, Hob, to tear thy coat + With thorns, if thou come near us!" + +Her spell thus spoke, she stept aside, +And in a chink herself doth hide, +To see thereof what would betide, + For she doth only mind him: +When presently she Puck espies, +And well she marked his gloating eyes, +How under every leaf he pries, + In seeking still to find them. + +But once the circle got within, +The charms to work do straight begin, +And he was caught as in a gin; + For as he thus was busy, +A pain he in his head-piece feels, +Against a stubbed tree he reels, +And up went poor Hobgoblin's heels, + Alas! his brain was dizzy! + +At length upon his feet he gets, +Hobgoblin fumes, Hobgoblin frets; +And as again he forward sets, + And through the bushes scrambles, +A stump doth trip him in his pace; +Down comes poor Hob upon his face, +And lamentably tore his case, + Amongst the briars and brambles. + +"A plague upon Queen Mab!" quoth he, +"And all her maids where'er they be +I think the devil guided me, + To seek her so provoked!" +Where stumbling at a piece of wood, +He fell into a ditch of mud, +Where to the very chin he stood, + In danger to be choked. + +Now worse than e'er he was before, +Poor Puck doth yell, poor Puck doth roar, +That waked Queen Mab, who doubted sore + Some treason had been wrought her: +Until Nymphidia told the Queen +What she had done, what she had seen, +Who then had well-near cracked her spleen + With very extreme laughter. + +But leave we Hob to clamber out, +Queen Mab and all her Fairy rout, +And come again to have a bout + With Oberon yet madding: +And with Pigwiggin now distraught, +Who much was troubled in his thought, +That he so long the Queen had sought, + And through the fields was gadding. + +And as he runs he still doth cry, +"King Oberon, I thee defy, +And dare thee here in arms to try, + For my dear lady's honour: +For that she is a Queen right good, +In whose defence I'll shed my blood, +And that thou in this jealous mood + Hast laid this slander on her." + +And quickly arms him for the field, +A little cockle-shell his shield, +Which he could very bravely wield; + Yet could it not be pierced: +His spear a bent both stiff and strong, +And well-near of two inches long: +The pile was of a horse-fly's tongue, + Whose sharpness nought reversed. + +And puts him on a coat of mail, +Which was made of a fish's scale, +That when his foe should him assail, + No point should be prevailing: +His rapier was a hornet's sting, +It was a very dangerous thing, +For if he chanced to hurt the King, + It would be long in healing. + +His helmet was a beetle's head, +Most horrible and full of dread, +That able was to strike one dead, + Yet did it well become him; +And for a plume a horse's hair, +Which, being tossed with the air, +Had force to strike his foe with fear, + And turn his weapon from him. + +Himself he on an earwig set, +Yet scarce he on his back could get, +So oft and high he did curvet, + Ere he himself could settle: +He made him turn, and stop, and bound, +To gallop, and to trot the round, +He scarce could stand on any ground, + He was so full of mettle. + +When soon he met with Tomalin, +One that a valiant knight had been, +And to King Oberon of kin; + Quoth he, "Thou manly Fairy, +Tell Oberon I come prepared, +Then bid him stand upon his guard; +This hand his baseness shall reward, + Let him be ne'er so wary. + +"Say to him thus, that I defy +His slanders and his infamy, +And as a mortal enemy + Do publicly proclaim him: +Withal that if I had mine own, +He should not wear the Fairy crown, +But with a vengeance should come down, + Nor we a king should name him." + +This Tomalin could not abide, +To hear his sovereign vilified; +But to the Fairy Court him hied, + (Full furiously he posted,) +With everything Pigwiggin said: +How title to the crown he laid, +And in what arms he was arrayed, + As how himself he boasted. + +Twixt head and foot, from point to point, +He told the arming of each joint, +In every piece how neat and quoint, + For Tomalin could do it: +How fair he sat, how sure he rid, +As of the courser he bestrid, +How managed, and how well he did: + The King which listened to it, + +Quoth he, "Go, Tomalin, with speed, +Provide me arms, provide my steed, +And everything that I shall need; + By thee I will be guided: +To straight account call thou thy wit; +See there be wanting not a whit, +In everything see thou me fit, + Just as my foe's provided." + +Soon flew this news through Fairy-land, +Which gave Queen Mab to understand +The combat that was then in hand + Betwixt those men so mighty: +Which greatly she began to rue, +Perceiving that all Fairy knew +The first occasion from her grew + Of these affairs so weighty. + +Wherefore attended with her maids, +Through fogs, and mists, and damps she wades, +To Proserpine the Queen of Shades, + To treat, that it would please her +The cause into her hands to take, +For ancient love and friendship's sake, +And soon thereof an end to make, + Which of much care would ease her. + +A while there let we Mab alone, +And come we to King Oberon, +Who, armed to meet his foe, is gone, + For proud Pigwiggin crying: +Who sought the Fairy King as fast, +And had so well his journeys cast, +That he arrived at the last, + His puissant foe espying. + +Stout Tomalin came with the King, +Tom Thumb doth on Pigwiggin bring, +That perfect were in everything + To single fights belonging: +And therefore they themselves engage, +To see them exercise their rage, +With fair and comely equipage, + Not one the other wronging. + +So like in arms these champions were, +As they had been a very pair, +So that a man would almost swear, + That either had been either; +Their furious steeds began to neigh, +That they were heard a mighty way; +Their staves upon their rests they lay; + Yet ere they flew together + +Their seconds minister an oath, +Which was indifferent to them both, +That on their knightly faith and troth + No magic them supplied; +And sought them that they had no charms, +Wherewith to work each other harms, +But came with simple open arms + To have their causes tried. + +Together furiously they ran, +That to the ground came horse and man; +The blood out of their helmets span, + So sharp were their encounters; +And though they to the earth were thrown, +Yet quickly they regained their own, +Such nimbleness was never shown, + They were two gallant mounters. + +When in a second course again +They forward came with might and main, +Yet which had better of the twain, + The seconds could not judge yet; +Their shields were into pieces cleft, +Their helmets from their heads were reft, +And to defend them nothing left, + These champions would not budge yet. + +Away from them their staves they threw, +Their cruel swords they quickly drew, +And freshly they the fight renew, + They every stroke redoubled: +Which made Proserpina take heed, +And make to them the greater speed, +For fear lest they too much should bleed, + Which wondrously her troubled. + +When to th' infernal Styx she goes, +She takes the fogs from thence that rose, +And in a bag doth them enclose: + When well she had them blended, +She hies her then to Lethe spring, {114} +A bottle and thereof doth bring, +Wherewith she meant to work the thing + Which only she intended. + +Now Proserpine with Mab is gone, +Unto the place where Oberon +And proud Pigwiggin, one to one, + Both to be slain were likely: +And there themselves they closely hide, +Because they would not be espied; +For Proserpine meant to decide + The matter very quickly. + +And suddenly unties the poke, +Which out of it sent such a smoke, +As ready was them all to choke, + So grievous was the pother; +So that the knights each other lost, +And stood as still as any post; +Tom Thumb nor Tomalin could boast + Themselves of any other. + +But when the mist 'gan somewhat cease, +Proserpina commandeth peace; +And that a while they should release + Each other of their peril: +"Which here," quoth she, "I do proclaim +To all in dreadful Pluto's name, +That as ye will eschew his blame, + You let me bear the quarrel: + +"But here yourselves you must engage, +Somewhat to cool your spleenish rage; +Your grievous thirst and to assuage + That first you drink this liquor, +Which shall your understanding clear, +As plainly shall to you appear; +Those things from me that you shall hear, + Conceiving much the quicker." + +This Lethe water, you must know, +The memory destroyeth so, +That of our weal, or of our woe, + Is all remembrance blotted; +Of it nor can you ever think, +For they no sooner took this drink, +But nought into their brains could sink + Of what had them besotted. + +King Oberon forgotten had, +That he for jealousy ran mad, +But of his Queen was wondrous glad, + And asked how they came thither: +Pigwiggin likewise doth forget +That he Queen Mab had ever met; +Or that they were so hard beset, + When they were found together. + +Nor neither of them both had thought, +That e'er they each had other sought, +Much less that they a combat fought, + But such a dream were lothing. +Tom Thumb had got a little sup, +And Tomalin scarce kissed the cup, +Yet had their brains so sure locked up, + That they remembered nothing. + +Queen Mab and her light maids, the while, +Amongst themselves do closely smile, +To see the King caught with this wile, + With one another jesting: +And to the Fairy Court they went, +With mickle joy and merriment, +Which thing was done with good intent, + And thus I left them feasting. + + + +POPE'S RAPE OF THE LOCK. +AN HEROI-COMICAL POEM. + + + + Nolueram, Belinda, tuos violare capillos; + Sed juvat, hoc precibus me tribuisse tuis. + --MART., Epigr. xii. 84. + +CANTO I. + +What dire offence from amorous causes springs, +What mighty contests rise from trivial things, +I sing--This verse to Caryl, Muse! is due: +This, even Belinda may vouchsafe to view: +Slight is the subject, but not so the praise, +If she inspire, and he approve my lays. + + Say what strange motive, Goddess! could compel +A well-bred lord to assault a gentle belle? +O say what stranger cause, yet unexplored, +Could make a gentle belle reject a lord? +In tasks so bold, can little men engage, +And in soft bosoms dwells such mighty rage? + + Sol through white curtains shot a timorous ray, +And oped those eyes that must eclipse the day: +Now lap-dogs give themselves the rousing shake, +And sleepless lovers, just at twelve, awake: +Thrice rung the bell, the slipper knocked the ground, +And the pressed watch returned a silver sound. +Belinda still her downy pillow pressed, +Her guardian Sylph prolonged the balmy rest; +'Twas he had summoned to her silent bed +The morning-dream that hovered o'er her head; +A youth more glittering than a birth-night beau, +(That even in slumber caused her cheek to glow) +Seemed to her ear his winning lips to lay, +And thus in whispers said, or seemed to say: + + "Fairest of mortals, thou distinguished care +Of thousand bright inhabitants of air! +If e'er one vision touched thy infant thought, +Of all the nurse and all the priest have taught; +Of airy elves by moonlight shadows seen, +The silver token, and the circled green, +Or virgins visited by angel-powers, +With golden crowns and wreaths of heavenly flowers; +Hear and believe! thy own importance know, +Nor bound thy narrow views to things below. +Some secret truths, from learned pride concealed, +To maids alone and children are revealed: +What though no credit doubting wits may give? +The fair and innocent shall still believe. +Know, then, unnumbered spirits round thee fly, +The light militia of the lower sky: +These, though unseen, are ever on the wing, +Hang o'er the box, and hover round the ring. +Think what an equipage thou hast in air, +And view with scorn two pages and a chair. +As now your own, our beings were of old, +And once enclosed in woman's beauteous mould; +Thence, by a soft transition, we repair +From earthly vehicles to these of air. +Think not, when woman's transient breath is fled, +That all her vanities at once are dead; +Succeeding vanities she still regards, +And though she plays no more, o'erlooks the cards. +Her joy in gilded chariots, when alive, +And love of ombre, after death survive. +For when the fair in all their pride expire, +To their first elements their souls retire: +The sprites of fiery termagants in flame +Mount up, and take a Salamander's name. +Soft yielding minds to water glide away, +And sip, with nymphs, their elemental tea. +The graver prude sinks downward to a gnome, +In search of mischief still on earth to roam, +The light coquettes in sylphs aloft repair, +And sport and flutter in the fields of air. + + "Know further yet; whoever fair and chaste +Rejects mankind, is by some sylph embraced: +For spirits, freed from mortal laws, with ease +Assume what sexes and what shapes they please. +What guards the purity of melting maids, +In courtly balls and midnight masquerades, +Safe from the treacherous friend, the daring spark, +The glance by day, the whisper in the dark, +When kind occasion prompts their warm desires, +When music softens, and when dancing fires? +'Tis but their sylph, the wise celestials know, +Though honour is the word with men below. + + "Some nymphs there are, too conscious of their face, +For life predestined to the gnomes' embrace. +These swell their prospects and exalt their pride, +When offers are disdained, and love denied: +Then gay ideas crowd the vacant brain, +While peers, and dukes, and all their sweeping train, +And garters, stars, and coronets appear, +And in soft sounds, Your Grace salutes their ear. +'Tis these that early taint the female soul, +Instruct the eyes of young coquettes to roll, +Teach infant cheeks a hidden blush to know, +And little hearts to flutter at a beau. + + "Oft, when the world imagine women stray, +The sylphs through mystic mazes guide their way, +Through all the giddy circle they pursue, +And old impertinence expel by new. +What tender maid but must a victim fall +To one man's treat, but for another's ball? +When Florio speaks what virgin could withstand, +If gentle Damon did not squeeze her hand? +With varying vanities, from every part, +They shift the moving toyshop of their heart; +Where wigs with wigs, with sword-knots sword-knots strive, +Beaux banish beaux, and coaches coaches drive. +This erring mortal's levity may call; +Oh, blind to truth! the sylphs contrive it all. + + "Of these am I, who thy protection claim, +A watchful sprite, and Ariel is my name. +Late, as I ranged the crystal wilds of air, +In the clear mirror of thy ruling star +I saw, alas! some dread event impend, +Ere to the main this morning sun descend, +But heaven reveals not what, or how, or where: +Warned by the sylph, oh pious maid, beware! +This to disclose is all thy guardian can: +Beware of all, but most beware of man!" + + He said; when Shock, who thought she slept too long, +Leaped up, and waked his mistress with his tongue. +'Twas then, Belinda, if report say true, +Thy eyes first opened on a billet-doux; +Wounds, charms, and ardours were no sooner read, +But all the vision vanished from thy head. + + And now, unveiled, the toilet stands displayed, +Each silver vase in mystic order laid. +First, robed in white, the nymph intent adores, +With head uncovered, the cosmetic powers. +A heavenly image in the glass appears, +To that she bends, to that her eyes she rears; +The inferior priestess, at her altar's side, +Trembling begins the sacred rites of pride. +Unnumbered treasures ope at once, and here +The various offerings of the world appear; +From each she nicely culls with curious toil, +And decks the goddess with the glittering spoil. +This casket India's glowing gems unlocks, +And all Arabia breathes from yonder box. +The tortoise here and elephant unite, +Transformed to combs, the speckled, and the white. +Here files of pins extend their shining rows, +Puffs, powders, patches, Bibles, billet-doux. +Now awful beauty puts on all its arms; +The fair each moment rises in her charms, +Repairs her smiles, awakens every grace, +And calls forth all the wonders of her face; +Sees by degrees a purer blush arise, +And keener lightnings quicken in her eyes. +The busy sylphs surround their darling care, +These set the head, and those divide the hair, +Some fold the sleeve, whilst others plait the gown; +And Betty's praised for labours not her own. + + + +CANTO II. + +Not with more glories, in the ethereal plain, +The sun first rises o'er the purpled main, +Than, issuing forth, the rival of his beams +Launched on the bosom of the silver Thames. +Fair nymphs, and well-dressed youths around her shone, +But every eye was fixed on her alone. +On her white breast a sparkling cross she wore, +Which Jews might kiss, and Infidels adore. +Her lively looks a sprightly mind disclose, +Quick as her eyes, and as unfixed as those: +Favours to none, to all she smiles extends; +Oft she rejects, but never once offends. +Bright as the sun, her eyes the gazers strike, +And, like the sun, they shine on all alike, +Yet graceful ease, and sweetness void of pride, +Might hide her faults, if belles had faults to hide: +If to her share some female errors fall, +Look on her face, and you'll forget 'em all. + + This nymph, to the destruction of mankind, +Nourished two locks, which graceful hung behind +In equal curls, and well conspired to deck +With shining ringlets the smooth ivory neck. +Love in these labyrinths his slaves detains, +And mighty hearts are held in slender chains. +With hairy springes we the birds betray, +Slight lines of hair surprise the finny prey, +Fair tresses man's imperial race ensnare, +And beauty draws us with a single hair. + + Th' adventurous Baron the bright locks admired; +He saw, he wished, and to the prize aspired. +Resolved to win, he meditates the way, +By force to ravish, or by fraud betray; +For when success a lover's toil attends, +Few ask, if fraud or force attained his ends. + + For this, ere Phoebus rose, he had implored +Propitious heaven, and every power adored, +But chiefly Love--to Love an altar built, +Of twelve vast French romances, neatly gilt. +There lay three garters, half a pair of gloves; +And all the trophies of his former loves; +With tender billet-doux he lights the pyre, +And breathes three amorous sighs to raise the fire, +Then prostrate falls, and begs with ardent eyes +Soon to obtain, and long possess the prize: +The powers gave ear, and granted half his prayer, +The rest, the winds dispersed in empty air. + + But now secure the painted vessel glides, +The sunbeams trembling on the floating tides: +While melting music steals upon the sky, +And softened sounds along the waters die; +Smooth flow the waves, the zephyrs gently play, +Belinda smiled, and all the world was gay. +All but the Sylph--with careful thoughts oppressed, +Th' impending woe sat heavy on his breast. +He summons straight his denizens of air; +The lucid squadrons round the sails repair: +Soft o'er the shrouds aerial whispers breathe, +That seemed but zephyrs to the train beneath. +Some to the sun their insect wings unfold, +Waft on the breeze, or sink in clouds of gold; +Transparent forms, too fine for mortal sight, +Their fluid bodies half dissolved in light, +Loose to the wind their airy garments flew, +Thin glittering textures of the filmy dew, +Dipped in the richest tincture of the skies, +Where light disports in ever-mingling dyes, +While every beam new transient colours flings, +Colours that change whene'er they wave their wings. +Amid the circle, on the gilded mast, +Superior by the head, was Ariel placed; +His purple pinions opening to the sun, +He raised his azure wand, and thus begun: + + "Ye Sylphs and Sylphids, to your chief give ear! +Fays, Fairies, Genii, Elves, and Daemons, hear! +Ye know the spheres and various tasks assigned +By laws eternal to th' aerial kind. +Some in the fields of purest aether play, +And bask and whiten in the blaze of day. +Some guide the course of wandering orbs on high, +Or roll the planets through the boundless sky. +Some less refined, beneath the moon's pale light +Pursue the stars that shoot athwart the night, +Or suck the mists in grosser air below, +Or dip their pinions in the painted bow, +Or brew fierce tempests on the wintry main, +Or o'er the glebe distil the kindly rain. +Others on earth o'er human race preside, +Watch all their ways, and all their actions guide: +Of these the chief the care of nations own, +And guard with arms divine the British throne. + + "Our humbler province is to tend the fair, +Not a less pleasing, though less glorious care; +To save the powder from too rude a gale, +Nor let the imprisoned essences exhale; +To draw fresh colours from the vernal flowers; +To steal from rainbows ere they drop in showers +A brighter wash; to curl their waving hairs, +Assist their blushes, and inspire their airs; +Nay oft, in dreams, invention we bestow, +To change a flounce or add a furbelow. + + "This day black omens threat the brightest fair +That e'er deserved a watchful spirit's care; +Some dire disaster, or by force or slight; +But what, or where, the fates have wrapt in night. +Whether the nymph shall break Diana's law, +Or some frail china jar receive a flaw; +Or stain her honour or her new brocade; +Forget her prayers, or miss a masquerade; +Or lose her heart, or necklace, at a ball; +Or whether Heaven has doomed that Shock must fall, +Haste, then, ye spirits! to your charge repair: +The fluttering fan be Zephyretta's care; +The drops to thee, Brillante, we consign; +And, Momentilla, let the watch be thine; +Do thou, Crispissa, tend her favourite lock; +Ariel himself shall be the guard of Shock. + + "To fifty chosen sylphs, of special note, +We trust th' important charge, the petticoat: +Oft have we known that sevenfold fence to fail, +Though stiff with hoops, and armed with ribs of whale; +Form a strong line about the silver bound, +And guard the wide circumference around. + + "Whatever spirit, careless of his charge, +His post neglects, or leaves the fair at large, +Shall feel sharp vengeance soon o'ertake his sins, +Be stopped in vials, or transfixed with pins; +Or plunged in lakes of bitter washes lie, +Or wedged whole ages in a bodkin's eye: +Gums and pomatums shall his flight restrain, +While clogged he beats his silken wings in vain; +Or alum styptics with contracting power +Shrink his thin essence like a rivelled flower; +Or, as Ixion fixed, the wretch shall feel +The giddy motion of the whirling mill, +In fumes of burning chocolate shall glow, +And tremble at the sea that froths below!" + + He spoke; the spirits from the sails descend; +Some, orb in orb, around the nymph extend; +Some thrid the mazy ringlets of her hair; +Some hang upon the pendants of her ear: +With beating hearts the dire event they wait, +Anxious and trembling, for the birth of Fate. + + + +CANTO III. + +Close by those meads, for ever crowned with flowers, +Where Thames with pride surveys his rising towers, +There stands a structure of majestic frame, +Which from the neighbouring Hampton takes its name. +Here Britain's statesmen oft the fall foredoom +Of foreign tyrants and of nymphs at home; +Here thou, great Anna! whom three realms obey, +Dost sometimes counsel take--and sometimes tea. + + Hither the heroes and the nymphs resort, +To taste awhile the pleasures of a court; +In various talk the instructive hours they passed, +Who gave the ball, or paid the visit last; +One speaks the glory of the British Queen, +And one describes a charming Indian screen; +A third interprets motions, looks, and eyes; +At every word a reputation dies. +Snuff, or the fan, supply each pause of chat, +With singing, laughing, ogling, AND ALL THAT. + + Meanwhile, declining from the noon of day, +The sun obliquely shoots his burning ray; +The hungry judges soon the sentence sign, +And wretches hang that jurymen may dine; +The merchant from the Exchange returns in peace, +And the long labours of the toilet cease. +Belinda now whom thirst of fame invites, +Burns to encounter two adventurous knights, +At Ombre singly to decide their doom; {125} +And swells her breast with conquests yet to come. +Straight the three bands prepare in arms to join, +Each band the number of the sacred nine. +Soon as she spreads her hand, the aerial guard +Descend, and sit on each important card: +First Ariel, perched upon a Matador, +Then each, according to the rank they bore; +For sylphs, yet mindful of their ancient race, +Are, as when women, wondrous fond of place. + + Behold, four Kings in majesty revered, +With hoary whiskers and a forky beard; +And four fair Queens whose hands sustain a flower, +The expressive emblem of their softer power; +Four Knaves in garbs succinct, a trusty band, +Caps on their heads, and halberts in their hand; +And particoloured troops, a shining train, +Draw forth to combat on the velvet plain. + + The skilful Nymph reviews her force with care: +"Let Spades be trumps!" she said, and trumps they were. + + Now move to war her sable Matadores, +In show like leaders of the swarthy Moors. +Spadillio first, unconquerable lord, +Led off two captive trumps, and swept the board. +As many more Manillio forced to yield, +And marched a victor from the verdant field. +Him Basto followed, but his fate more hard +Gained but one trump and one plebeian card. +With his broad sabre next, a chief in years, +The hoary Majesty of Spades appears, +Puts forth one manly leg, to sight revealed, +The rest, his many-coloured robe concealed. +The rebel Knave, who dares his prince engage, +Proves the just victim of his royal rage. +Even mighty Pam, that Kings and Queens o'erthrew {126} +And mowed down armies in the fights of Lu, +Sad chance of war! now destitute of aid, +Falls undistinguished by the victor Spade! + + Thus far both armies to Belinda yield; +Now to the Baron fate inclines the field. +His warlike Amazon her host invades, +Th' imperial consort of the crown of Spades. +The Club's black tyrant first her victim died, +Spite of his haughty mien, and barbarous pride; +What boots the regal circle on his head, +His giant limbs, in state unwieldy spread; +That long behind he trails his pompous robe, +And, of all monarchs, only grasps the globe? + + The Baron now his Diamonds pours apace; +The embroidered King who shows but half his face, +And his refulgent Queen, with powers combined +Of broken troops an easy conquest find. +Clubs, Diamonds, Hearts, in wild disorder seen, +With throngs promiscuous strow the level green. +Thus when dispersed a routed army runs, +Of Asia's troops, and Afric's sable sons, +With like confusion different nations fly, +Of various habit, and of various dye, +The pierced battalions disunited fall, +In heaps on heaps; one fate o'erwhelms them all. + + The Knave of Diamonds tries his wily arts, +And wins (oh shameful chance!) the Queen of Hearts. +At this, the blood the virgin's cheek forsook, +A livid paleness spreads o'er all her look; +She sees, and trembles at th' approaching ill, +Just in the jaws of ruin, and codille. +And now (as oft in some distempered State) +On one nice trick depends the general fate. +An Ace of Hearts steps forth: the King unseen +Lurked in her hand, and mourned his captive Queen: +He springs to vengeance with an eager pace, +And falls like thunder on the prostrate Ace. +The nymph exulting fills with shouts the sky; +The walls, the woods, and long canals reply. + + Oh thoughtless mortals, ever blind to fate, +Too soon dejected, and too soon elate! +Sudden, these honours shall be snatched away, +And cursed for ever this victorious day. + + For lo, the board with cups and spoons is crowned, +The berries crackle, and the mill turns round; +On shining altars of Japan they raise +The silver lamp; the fiery spirits blaze: +From silver spouts the grateful liquors glide, +While China's earth receives the smoking tide: +At once they gratify their scent and taste, +And frequent cups prolong the rich repast. +Straight hover round the Fair her airy band; +Some, as she sipped, the fuming liquor fanned, +Some o'er her lap their careful plumes displayed, +Trembling, and conscious of the rich brocade. +Coffee (which makes the politician wise, +And see through all things with his half-shut eyes) +Sent up in vapours to the Baron's brain +New stratagems the radiant Lock to gain. +Ah cease, rash youth! desist ere 'tis too late, +Fear the just Gods, and think of Scylla's fate! +Changed to a bird, and sent to flit in air, +She dearly pays for Nisus' injured hair! + + But when to mischief mortals bend their will, +How soon they find fit instruments of ill! +Just then, Clarissa drew with tempting grace +A two-edged weapon from her shining case: +So ladies in romance assist their knight, +Present the spear, and arm him for the fight. +He takes the gift with reverence, and extends +The little engine on his fingers' ends; +This just behind Belinda's neck he spread, +As o'er the fragrant steams she bends her head. +Swift to the lock a thousand sprites repair, +A thousand wings, by turns, blow back the hair; +And thrice they twitched the diamond in her ear; +Thrice she looked back, and thrice the foe drew near. +Just in that instant, anxious Ariel sought +The close recesses of the virgin's thought; +As on the nosegay in her breast reclined, +He watched the ideas rising in her mind, +Sudden he viewed, in spite of all her art, +An earthly lover lurking at her heart. +Amazed, confused, he found his power expired, +Resigned to fate, and with a sigh retired. + + The peer now spreads the glittering forfex wide, +To inclose the lock; now joins it, to divide. +Even then, before the fatal engine closed, +A wretched sylph too fondly interposed; +Fate urged the shears, and cut the sylph in twain +(But airy substance soon unites again), +The meeting points the sacred hair dissever +From the fair head, for ever, and for ever! + + Then flashed the living lightning from her eyes, +And screams of horror rend the affrighted skies. +Not louder shrieks to pitying heaven are cast, +When husbands or when lapdogs breathe their last; +Or when rich china vessels fallen from high, +In glittering dust and painted fragments lie! + + "Let wreaths of triumph now my temples twine," +The victor cried, "the glorious prize is mine! +While fish in streams, or birds delight in air, +Or in a coach-and-six the British fair, +As long as Atalantis shall be read, {129} +Or the small pillow grace a lady's bed, +While visits shall be paid on solemn days, +When numerous wax-lights in bright order blaze, +While nymphs take treats, or assignations give, +So long my honour, name, and praise shall live! +What time would spare, from steel receives its date, +And monuments, like men, submit to fate! +Steel could the labour of the gods destroy, +And strike to dust th' imperial towers of Troy; +Steel could the works of mortal pride confound, +And hew triumphal arches to the ground. +What wonder then, fair nymph! thy hairs should feel +The conquering force of unresisting steel? + + + +CANTO IV. + +But anxious cares the pensive nymph oppressed, +And secret passions laboured in her breast. +Not youthful kings in battle seized alive, +Not scornful virgins who their charms survive, +Not ardent lovers robbed of all their bliss, +Not ancient ladies when refused a kiss, +Not tyrants fierce that unrepenting die, +Not Cynthia when her manteau's pinned awry, +E'er felt such rage, resentment, and despair, +As thou, sad virgin! for thy ravished hair. + + For that sad moment when the sylphs withdrew. +And Ariel weeping from Belinda flew, +Umbriel, a dusky, melancholy sprite, +As ever sullied the fair face of light, +Down to the central earth, his proper scene, +Repaired to search the gloomy cave of Spleen. + + Swift on his sooty pinions flits the gnome, +And in a vapour reached the dismal dome. +No cheerful breeze this sullen region knows, +The dreaded east is all the wind that blows. +Here in a grotto, sheltered close from air, +And screened in shades from day's detested glare, +She sighs for ever on her pensive bed, +Pain at her side, and Megrim at her head. {130} + + Two handmaids wait the throne: alike in place, +But differing far in figure and in face. +Here stood Ill-nature like an ancient maid, +Her wrinkled form in black and white arrayed; +With store of prayers, for mornings, nights, and noons, +Her hand is filled; her bosom with lampoons. + + There Affectation, with a sickly mien, +Shows in her cheek the roses of eighteen, +Practised to lisp, and hang the head aside, +Faints into airs, and languishes with pride, +On the rich quilt sinks with becoming woe, +Wrapped in a gown, for sickness, and for show. +The fair ones feel such maladies as these, +When each new night-dress gives a new disease. +A constant vapour o'er the palace flies; +Strange phantoms rising as the mists arise; +Dreadful as hermit's dreams in haunted shades, +Or bright as visions of expiring maids. +Now glaring fiends, and snakes on rolling spires, +Pale spectres, gaping tombs, and purple fires: +Now lakes of liquid gold, Elysian scenes, +And crystal domes and angels in machines. + + Unnumbered throngs on every side are seen, +Of bodies changed to various forms by Spleen. +Here living tea-pots stand, one arm held out, +One bent; the handle this, and that the spout: +A pipkin there, like Homer's tripod walks; +Here sighs a jar, and there a goose-pie talks; +Men prove with child, as powerful fancy works, +And maids turned bottles call aloud for corks. + + Safe past the Gnome, through this fantastic band, +A branch of healing spleenwort in his hand. +Then thus addressed the power: "Hail, wayward Queen! +Who rule the sex to fifty from fifteen: +Parent of vapours and of female wit, +Who give the hysteric, or poetic fit, +On various tempers act by various ways, +Make some take physic, others scribble plays; +Who cause the proud their visits to delay, +And send the godly in a pet to pray. +A nymph there is, that all thy power disdains, +And thousands more in equal mirth maintains. +But oh! if e'er thy gnome could spoil a grace, +Or raise a pimple on a beauteous face, +Like citron-waters matrons' cheeks inflame, +Or change complexions at a losing game; +If e'er with airy horns I planted heads, +Or rumpled petticoats, or tumbled beds, +Or caused suspicion when no soul was rude, +Or discomposed the head-dress of a prude, +Or e'er to costive lapdog gave disease, +Which not the tears of brightest eyes could ease: +Hear me, and touch Belinda with chagrin, +That single act gives half the world the spleen." + + The Goddess with a discontented air +Seems to reject him, though she grants his prayer. +A wondrous bag with both her hands she binds, +Like that where once Ulysses held the winds; +There she collects the force of female lungs, +Sighs, sobs, and passions, and the war of tongues. +A vial next she fills with fainting fears, +Soft sorrows, melting griefs, and flowing tears. +The gnome rejoicing bears her gifts away, +Spreads his black wings, and slowly mounts to day. + + Sunk in Thalestris' arms the nymph he found, +Her eyes dejected and her hair unbound. +Full o'er their heads the swelling bag he rent, +And all the Furies issued at the vent. +Belinda burns with more than mortal ire, +And fierce Thalestris fans the rising fire. +"O wretched maid!" she spread her hands, and cried, +(While Hampton's echoes, "Wretched maid!" replied) +"Was it for this you took such constant care +The bodkin, comb, and essence to prepare? +For this your locks in paper durance bound, +For this with torturing irons wreathed around? +For this with fillets strained your tender head, +And bravely bore the double loads of lead? +Gods! shall the ravisher display your hair, +While the fops envy, and the ladies stare! +Honour forbid! at whose unrivalled shrine +Ease, pleasure, virtue, all our sex resign. +Methinks already I your tears survey, +Already hear the horrid things they say, +Already see you a degraded toast, +And all your honour in a whisper lost! +How shall I, then, your helpless fame defend? +'Twill then be infamy to seem your friend! +And shall this prize, the inestimable prize, +Exposed through crystal to the gazing eyes, +And heightened by the diamond's circling rays, +On that rapacious hand for ever blaze? +Sooner shall grass in Hyde Park Circus grow, +And wits take lodgings in the sound of Bow; +Sooner let earth, air, sea, to chaos fall, +Men, monkeys, lap-dogs, parrots, perish all!" + + She said; then raging to Sir Plume repairs, +And bids her beau demand the precious hairs: +(Sir Plume of amber snuff-box justly vain, +And the nice conduct of a clouded cane) +With earnest eyes, and round unthinking face, +He first the snuff-box opened, then the case, +And thus broke out--"My Lord, why what the devil? +Zounds! damn the lock! 'fore Gad, you must be civil! +Plague on't! 'tis past a jest--nay prithee, pox! +Give her the hair"--he spoke, and rapped his box. + + "It grieves me much" (replied the Peer again) +"Who speaks so well should ever speak in vain. +But by this lock, this sacred lock, I swear, +(Which never more shall join its parted hair; +Which never more its honours shall renew, +Clipped from the lovely head where late it grew) +That while my nostrils draw the vital air, +This hand, which won it, shall for ever wear." +He spoke, and speaking, in proud triumph spread +The long-contended honours of her head. + + But Umbriel, hateful gnome! forbears not so; +He breaks the vial whence the sorrows flow. +Then see! the nymph in beauteous grief appears, +Her eyes half-languishing, half-drowned in tears; +On her heaved bosom hung her drooping head, +Which, with a sigh, she raised; and thus she said: + + "For ever cursed be this detested day, +Which snatched my best, my favourite curl away! +Happy! ah, ten times happy had I been, +If Hampton Court these eyes had never seen! +Yet am not I the first mistaken maid, +By love of courts to numerous ills betrayed. +Oh had I rather unadmired remained +In some lone isle, or distant Northern land, +Where the gilt chariot never marks the way, +Where none learn ombre, none e'er taste Bohea; +There kept my charms concealed from mortal eye, +Like roses that in deserts bloom and die! +What moved my mind with youthful lords to roam? +Oh had I stayed, and said my prayers at home! +'Twas this, the morning omens seemed to tell, +Thrice from my trembling hand the patch-box fell; +The tottering china shook without a wind, +Nay, Poll sat mute, and Shock was most unkind! +A sylph, too, warned me of the threats of fate, +In mystic visions, now believed too late! +See the poor remnants of these slighted hairs! +My hands shall rend what even thy rapine spares: +These in two sable ringlets taught to break, +Once gave new beauties to the snowy neck; +The sister-lock now sits uncouth, alone, +And in its fellow's fate foresees its own; +Uncurled it hangs, the fatal shears demands, +And tempts once more thy sacrilegious hands. +Oh hadst thou, cruel! been content to seize +Hairs less in sight, or any hairs but these!" + + + +CANTO V. + +She said: the pitying audience melt in tears. +But Fate and Jove had stopped the Baron's ears. +In vain Thalestris with reproach assails, +For who can move when fair Belinda fails? +Not half so fixed the Trojan could remain, +While Anna begged and Dido raged in vain. +Then grave Clarissa graceful waved her fan; +Silence ensued, and thus the nymph began: + + "Say why are beauties praised and honoured most, +The wise man's passion, and the vain man's toast? +Why decked with all that land and sea afford, +Why angels called, and angel-like adored? +Why round our coaches crowd the white-gloved beaux, +Why bows the side-box from its inmost rows; +How vain are all these glories, all our pains, +Unless good sense preserve what beauty gains: +That men may say, when we the front-box grace: +'Behold the first in virtue as in face!' +Oh! if to dance all night, and dress all day, +Charmed the smallpox, or chased old age away, +Who would not scorn what housewife's cares produce, +Or who would learn one earthly thing of use? +To patch, nay ogle, might become a saint, +Nor could it sure be such a sin to paint. +But since, alas! frail beauty must decay; +Curled or uncurled, since locks will turn to grey; +Since painted, or not painted, all shall fade, +And she who scorns a man, must die a maid; +What then remains but well our power to use, +And keep good-humour still whate'er we lose? +And trust me, dear! good-humour can prevail, +When airs, and flights, and screams, and scolding fail. +Beauties in vain their pretty eyes may roll; +Charms strike the sight, but merit wins the soul." + + So spoke the dame, but no applause ensued; +Belinda frowned, Thalestris called her Prude. +"To arms, to arms!" the fierce virago cries, +And swift as lightning to the combat flies. +All side in parties, and begin the attack; +Fans clap, silks rustle, and tough whalebones crack; +Heroes' and heroines' shouts confusedly rise, +And bass and treble voices strike the skies. +No common weapons in their hands are found, +Like gods they fight, nor dread a mortal wound. + + So when bold Homer makes the gods engage, +And heavenly breasts with human passions rage; +'Gainst Pallas, Mars; Latona, Hermes arms; +And all Olympus rings with loud alarms: +Jove's thunder roars, heaven trembles all around, +Blue Neptune storms, the bellowing deeps resound, +Earth shakes her nodding towers, the ground gives way, +And the pale ghosts start at the flash of day! + + Triumphant Umbriel on a sconce's height +Clapped his glad wings, and sate to view the fight; +Propped on their bodkin spears, the sprites survey +The growing combat, or assist the fray. + + While through the press enraged Thalestris flies, +And scatters death around from both her eyes, +A beau and witling perished in the throng, +One died in metaphor, and one in song. + + "O cruel nymph! a living death I bear," +Cried Dapperwit, and sunk beside his chair. +A mournful glance Sir Fopling upwards cast, +"Those eyes are made so killing"--was his last. +Thus on Maeander's flowery margin lies +The expiring swan, and as he sings he dies. + + When bold Sir Plume had drawn Clarissa down, +Chloe stepped in, and killed him with a frown; +She smiled to see the doughty hero slain, +But, at her smile, the beau revived again. + + Now Jove suspends his golden scales in air, +Weighs the men's wits against the ladies' hair; +The doubtful beam long nods from side to side; +At length the wits mount up, the hairs subside. + + See, fierce Belinda on the Baron flies, +With more than usual lightning in her eyes: +Nor feared the chief the unequal fight to try, +Who sought no more than on his foe to die. +But this bold lord with manly strength endued, +She with one finger and a thumb subdued: +Just where the breath of life his nostrils drew, +A charge of snuff the wily virgin threw; +The gnomes direct, to every atom just, +The pungent grains of titillating dust. +Sudden, with starting tears each eye o'erflows, +And the high dome re-echoes to his nose. + + "Now meet thy fate," incensed Belinda cried, +And drew a deadly bodkin from her side. +(The same, his ancient personage to deck, +Her great-great-grandsire wore about his neck, +In three seal-rings; which after, melted down, +Formed a vast buckle for his widow's gown; +Her infant grandame's whistle next it grew, +The bells she jingled, and the whistle blew; +Then in a bodkin graced her mother's hairs, +Which long she wore, and now Belinda wears). + + "Boast not my fall," he cried, "insulting foe! +Thou by some other shalt be laid as low, +Nor think to die dejects my lofty mind: +All that I dread is leaving you behind! +Rather than so, ah! let me still survive, +And burn in Cupid's flames--but burn alive." + + "Restore the lock!" she cries; and all around +"Restore the lock!" the vaulted roofs rebound. +Not fierce Othello in so loud a strain +Roared for the handkerchief that caused his pain. +But see how oft ambitious aims are crossed, +And chiefs contend till all the prize is lost! +The lock, obtained with guilt, and kept with pain, +In every place is sought, but sought in vain: +With such a prize no mortal must be blest, +So Heaven decrees: with Heaven who can contest? + + Some thought it mounted to the lunar sphere, +Since all things lost on earth are treasured there, +There heroes' wits are kept in ponderous vases, +And beaux' in snuff-boxes and tweezer-cases. +There broken vows and death-bed alms are found, +And lovers' hearts with ends of riband bound, +The courtiers promises, and sick man's prayers, +The smiles of harlots, and the tears of heirs, +Cages for gnats, and chains to yoke a flea, +Dried butterflies and tomes of casuistry. + + But trust the Muse--she saw it upward rise, +Though marked by none but quick, poetic eyes: +(So Rome's great founder to the heavens withdrew, +To Proculus alone confessed in view) +A sudden star, it shot through liquid air, +And drew behind a radiant trail of hair. +Not Berenice's locks first rose so bright, +The heavens bespangling with dishevelled light. +The sylphs behold it kindling as it flies, +And pleased pursue its progress through the skies. + + This the beau-monde shall from the Mall survey, +And hail with music its propitious ray. +This the blest lover shall for Venus take, +And send up vows from Rosamonda's lake. +This Partridge soon shall view in cloudless skies, {137} +When next he looks through Galileo's eyes; +And hence the egregious wizard shall foredoom +The fate of Louis, and the fall of Rome. + + Then cease, bright nymph! to mourn thy ravished hair, +Which adds new glory to the shining sphere! +Not all the tresses that fair head can boast, +Shall draw such envy as the lock you lost. +For, after all the murders of your eye, +When, after millions slain, yourself shall die: +When those fair suns shall set, as set they must, +And all those tresses shall be laid in dust, +This lock the Muse shall consecrate to fame, +And 'midst the stars inscribe Belinda's name. + + + +THE DIVERTING HISTORY OF JOHN GILPIN: +SHOWING HOW HE WENT FARTHER THAN HE INTENDED AND CAME SAFE HOME +AGAIN. + + + +BY WILLIAM COWPER. + +John Gilpin was a citizen + Of credit and renown, +A train-band captain eke was he + Of famous London town. + +John Gilpin's spouse said to her dear, + "Though wedded we have been +These twice ten tedious years, yet we + No holiday have seen. + +"To-morrow is our wedding-day, + And we will then repair +Unto the Bell at Edmonton, + All in a chaise and pair. + +"My sister, and my sister's child, + Myself, and children three, +Will fill the chaise; so you must ride + On horseback after we." + +He soon replied, "I do admire + Of womankind but one, +And you are she, my dearest dear, + Therefore it shall be done. + +"I am a linen-draper bold, + As all the world doth know, +And my good friend the calender + Will lend his horse to go." + +Quoth Mrs. Gilpin, "That's well said: + And for that wine is dear, +We will be furnished with our own, + Which is both bright and clear." + +John Gilpin kissed his loving wife; + O'erjoyed was he to find, +That though on pleasure she was bent, + She had a frugal mind. + +The morning came, the chaise was brought, + But yet was not allowed +To drive up to the door, lest all + Should say that she was proud. + +So three doors off the chaise was stayed, + Where they did all get in; +Six precious souls, and all agog + To dash through thick and thin. + +Smack went the whip, round went the wheels, + Were never folk so glad, +The stones did rattle underneath, + As if Cheapside were mad. + +John Gilpin at his horse's side + Seized fast the flowing mane, +And up he got, in haste to ride, + But soon came down again; + +For saddle-tree scarce reached had he, + His journey to begin, +When, turning round his head, he saw + Three customers come in. + +So down he came; for loss of time, + Although it grieved him sore, +Yet loss of pence, full well he knew, + Would trouble him much more. + +'Twas long before the customers + Were suited to their mind, +When Betty screaming came downstairs, + "The wine is left behind!" + +"Good lack!" quoth he--"yet bring it me, + My leathern belt likewise, +In which I bear my trusty sword, + When I do exercise." + +Now Mistress Gilpin (careful soul!) + Had two stone bottles found, +To hold the liquor that she loved, + And keep it safe and sound. + +Each bottle had a curling ear, + Through which the belt he drew, +And hung a bottle on each side, + To make his balance true. + +Then over all, that he might be + Equipped from top to toe, +His long red cloak, well brushed and neat, + He manfully did throw. + +Now see him mounted once again + Upon his nimble steed, +Full slowly pacing o'er the stones, + With caution and good heed. + +But finding soon a smoother road + Beneath his well-shod feet, +The snorting beast began to trot, + Which galled him in his seat. + +So, "Fair and softly," John he cried, + But John he cried in vain; +That trot became a gallop soon, + In spite of curb and rein. + +So stooping down, as needs he must + Who cannot sit upright, +He grasped the mane with both his hands, + And eke with all his might. + +His horse, who never in that sort + Had handled been before, +What thing upon his back had got + Did wonder more and more. + +Away went Gilpin, neck or nought; + Away went hat and wig; +He little dreamt, when he set out, + Of running such a rig. + +The wind did blow, the cloak did fly, + Like streamer long and gay, +Till, loop and button failing both, + At last it flew away. + +Then might all people well discern + The bottles he had slung; +A bottle swinging at each side, + As hath been said or sung. + +The dogs did bark, the children screamed, + Up flew the windows all; +And every soul cried out, "Well done!" + As loud as he could bawl. + +Away went Gilpin--who but he? + His fame soon spread around; +"He carries weight!" "He rides a race!" + "'Tis for a thousand pound!" + +And still, as fast as he drew near, + 'Twas wonderful to view, +How in a trice the turnpike-men + Their gates wide open threw. + +And now, as he went bowing down + His reeking head full low, +The bottles twain behind his back + Were shattered at a blow. + +Down ran the wine into the road, + Most piteous to be seen, +Which made his horse's flanks to smoke + As they had basted been. + +But still be seemed to carry weight, + With leathern girdle braced; +For all might see the bottle-necks + Still dangling at his waist. + +Thus all through merry Islington + These gambols he did play, +Until he came unto the Wash + Of Edmonton so gay; + +And there he threw the Wash about + On both sides of the way, +Just like unto a trundling mop, + Or a wild goose at play. + +At Edmonton his loving wife + From the balcony spied +Her tender husband, wondering much + To see how he did ride. + +"Stop, stop, John Gilpin!--Here's the house!" + They all at once did cry; +"The dinner waits, and we are tired;" + Said Gilpin--"So am I!" + +But yet his horse was not a whit + Inclined to tarry there! +For why?--his owner had a house + Full ten miles off, at Ware. + +So like an arrow swift he flew, + Shot by an archer strong; +So did he fly--which brings me to + The middle of my song. + +Away went Gilpin, out of breath, + And sore against his will, +Till at his friend the calender's + His horse at last stood still. + +The calender, amazed to see + His neighbour in such trim, +Laid down his pipe, flew to the gate, + And thus accosted him: + +"What news? what news? your tidings tell! + Tell me you must and shall - +Say why bareheaded you are come, + Or why you come at all?" + +Now Gilpin had a pleasant wit, + And loved a timely joke; +And thus unto the calender + In merry guise he spoke: + +"I came because your horse would come, + And, if I well forbode, +My hat and wig will soon be here - + They are upon the road." + +The calender, right glad to find + His friend in merry pin, +Returned him not a single word, + But to the house went in; + +Whence straight he came with hat and wig; + A wig that flowed behind, +A hat not much the worse for wear, + Each comely in its kind. + +He held them up, and in his turn + Thus showed his ready wit, +"My head is twice as big as yours, + They therefore needs must fit. + +"But let me scrape the dirt away + That hangs upon your face; +And stop and eat, for well you may + Be in a hungry case." + +Said John, "It is my wedding-day, + And all the world would stare, +If wife should dine at Edmonton, + And I should dine at Ware." + +So turning to his horse, he said, + "I am in haste to dine; +'Twas for your pleasure you came here, + You shall go back for mine." + +Ah, luckless speech, and bootless boast! + For which he paid full dear; +For, while he spake, a braying ass + Did sing most loud and clear; + +Whereat his horse did snort, as he + Had heard a lion roar, +And galloped off with all his might, + As he had done before. + +Away went Gilpin, and away + Went Gilpin's hat and wig: +He lost them sooner than at first; + For why?--they were too big. + +Now Mistress Gilpin, when she saw + Her husband posting down +Into the country far away, + She pulled out half-a-crown; + +And thus unto the youth she said + That drove them to the Bell, +"This shall be yours, when you bring back + My husband safe and well." + +The youth did ride, and soon did meet + John coming back amain: +Whom in a trice he tried to stop, + By catching at his rein; + +But not performing what he meant, + And gladly would have done, +The frighted steed he frighted more + And made him faster run. + +Away went Gilpin, and away + Went postboy at his heels, +The postboy's horse right glad to miss + The lumbering of the wheels. + +Six gentlemen upon the road, + Thus seeing Gilpin fly, +With postboy scampering in the rear, + They raised the hue and cry: + +"Stop thief! stop thief!--a highwayman!" + Not one of them was mute; +And all and each that passed that way + Did join in the pursuit. + +And now the turnpike gates again + Flew open in short space; +The toll-men thinking, as before, + That Gilpin rode a race. + +And so he did, and won it too, + For he got first to town; +Nor stopped till where he had got up + He did again get down. + +Now let us sing, Long live the king! + And Gilpin, long live he! +And when he next doth ride abroad + May I be there to see! + + + +TAM O'SHANTER: A TALE + + + +BY ROBERT BURNS. + + "Of brownyis and of bogilis full is this buke." + --GAWIN DOUGLAS. + +When chapman billies leave the street, {147a} +And drouthy neibors neibors meet, {147b} +As market days are wearin' late, +And folk begin to tak the gate; {147h} +While we sit bousing at the nappy, +And gettin' fou and unco' happy, {147c} +We think na on the lang Scots miles, +The mosses, waters, slaps, and stiles, {147d} +That lie between us and our hame, +Whare sits our sulky sullen dame, +Gathering her brows like gathering storm, +Nursing her wrath to keep it warm. + +This truth fand honest Tam o' Shanter, +As he frae Ayr ae night did canter, +(Auld Ayr, wham ne'er a town surpasses +For honest men and bonny lasses.) + +O Tam! hadst thou but been sae wise +As ta'en thy ain wife Kate's advice! +She tauld thee weel thou wast a skellum, {147e} +A blethering, blustering, drunken blellum; {147f} +That frae November till October, +Ae market day thou wasna sober; +That ilka melder, wi' the miller {147g} {147i} +Thou sat as lang as thou hadst siller; +That every naig was ca'd a shoe on, +The smith and thee gat roaring fou on; +That at the Lord's house, even on Sunday, +Thou drank wi' Kirkton Jean till Monday. {148f} +She prophesied that, late or soon, +Thou wouldst be found deep drowned in Doon! +Or catched wi' warlocks i' the mirk, {148a} +By Alloway's auld haunted kirk. + +Ah, gentle dames! it gars me greet {148b} +To think how mony counsels sweet, +How mony lengthened, sage advices, +The husband frae the wife despises! + +But to our tale:- Ae market night, +Tam had got planted unco right. +Fast by an ingle, bleezing finely, {148c} +Wi' reaming swats, that drank divinely; {148d} +And at his elbow, Souter Johnny, +His ancient, trusty, drouthy crony; +Tam lo'ed him like a vera brither - +They had been fou for weeks thegither! +The night drave on wi' sangs and clatter, +And aye the ale was growing better: +The landlady and Tam grew gracious, +Wi' favours secret, sweet, and precious; +The Souter tauld his queerest stories, +The landlord's laugh was ready chorus: +The storm without might rair and rustle - +Tam didna mind the storm a whistle. + +Care, mad to see a man sae happy, +E'en drowned himsel among the nappy! {148e} +As bees flee hame wi' lades o' treasure, +The minutes winged their way wi' pleasure: +Kings may be blest, but Tam was glorious, +O'er a' the ills o' life victorious! + +But pleasures are like poppies spread, +You seize the flower, its bloom is shed! +Or like the snowfall in the river, +A moment white--then melts for ever; +Or like the borealis race, +That flit ere you can point their place; +Or like the rainbow's lovely form, +Evanishing amid the storm. +Nae man can tether time or tide; +The hour approaches, Tam maun ride; +That hour, o' night's black arch the keystane, +That dreary hour he mounts his beast in; +And sic a night he taks the road in +As never poor sinner was abroad in. + +The wind blew as 'twad blown its last; +The rattling showers rose on the blast; +The speedy gleams the darkness swallowed; +Loud, deep, and lang the thunder bellowed: +That night, a child might understand +The deil had business on his hand. + +Weel mounted on his grey mare, Meg, +A better never lifted leg, +Tam skelpit on through dub and mire, {149a} +Despising wind, and rain, and fire; +Whiles holding fast his guid blue bonnet, +Whiles crooning o'er some auld Scots sonnet; +Whiles glowering round wi' prudent cares, +Lest bogles catch him unawares: +Kirk-Alloway was drawing nigh, +Whare ghaists and houlets nightly cry. +By this time he was 'cross the foord, +Whare in the snow the chapman smoored, {149b} +And past the birks and meikle stane +Whare drunken Charlie brak's neck-bane: +And through the whins, and by the cairn +Whare hunters fand the murdered bairn; +And near the thorn, aboon the well, +Where Mungo's mither hanged hersel'. +Before him Doon pours a' his floods; +The doubling storm roars through the woods; +The lightnings flash frae pole to pole; +Near and more near the thunders roll; +When glimmering through the groaning trees, +Kirk-Alloway seemed in a bleeze; +Through ilka bore the beams were glancing, {150h} +And loud resounded mirth and dancing. + +Inspiring bold John Barleycorn! +What dangers thou canst mak us scorn! +Wi' tippenny, we fear nae evil: +Wi' usquebae, we'll face the devil! - +The swats sae reamed in Tammie's noddle, +Fair play, he cared na deils a boddle. {150a} +But Maggie stood right sair astonished, +Till, by the heel and hand admonished, +She ventured forward on the light; +And, wow! Tam saw an unco sight! +Warlocks and witches in a dance; +Nae cotillon brent-new frae France, +But hornpipes, jigs, strathspeys, and reels, +Put life and mettle i' their heels: +At winnock-bunker, i' the east, {150b} +There sat auld Nick, in shape o' beast, +A towzie tyke, black, grim, and large, {150c} +To gie them music was his charge; +He screwed the pipes, and gart them skirl, {150d} +Till roof and rafters a' did dirl. {150e} +Coffins stood round, like open presses, +That shaw'd the dead in their last dresses; +And by some devilish cantrip slight {150f} +Each in its cauld hand held a light, - +By which heroic Tam was able +To note upon the haly table, +A murderer's banes in gibbet airns; +Twa span-lang, wee, unchristened bairns; +A thief, new-cutted frae a rape, +Wi' his last gasp his gab did gape; {150g} +Five tomahawks, wi' bluid red-rusted: +Five scimitars, wi' murder crusted; +A garter, which a babe had strangled; +A knife, a father's throat had mangled, +Whom his ain son o' life bereft, +The grey hairs yet stack to the heft: +Wi' mair o' horrible and awfu', +Which even to name wad be unlawfu'. + +As Tammie glowered, amazed and curious, +The mirth and fun grew fast and furious: +The piper loud and louder blew, +The dancers quick and quicker flew; +They reeled, they set, they crossed, they cleekit, +Till ilka carlin swat and reekit, +And coost her duddies to the wark, {151a} +And linket at it in her sark. {151h} {151b} + +Now Tam! O Tam! had they been queans, +A' plump and strappin' in their teens, +Their sarks, instead o' creeshie flannen, {151c} +Been snaw-white seventeen hunder linnen! +Thir breeks o' mine, my only pair, +That ance were plush, o' guid blue hair, +I wad hae gien them aff my hurdies, +For ae blink o' the bonny burdies! + +But withered beldams, auld and droll, +Rigwoodie hags, wad spean a foal, {151d} {151j} +Lowpin' and flingin' on a cummock, {151e} +I wonder didna turn thy stomach. + +But Tam kenned what was what fu' brawlie, +"There was ae winsome wench and walie," {151i} +That night enlisted in the core, +(Lang after kenned on Carrick shore; +For mony a beast to dead she shot, +And perished mony a bonny boat, +And shook baith meikle corn and bere, +And kept the country-side in fear.) +Her cutty sark, o' Paisley harn, {151f} +That, while a lassie, she had worn, +In longitude though sorely scanty, +It was her best, and she was vauntie. + +Ah! little kenn'd thy reverend grannie, +That sark she coft for her wee Nannie, {151g} +Wi' twa pund Scots ('twas a' her riches), +Wad ever graced a dance o' witches! +But here my Muse her wing maun cour, +Sic flights are far beyond her power; +To sing how Nannie lap and flang, +(A souple jade she was, and strang,) +And how Tam stood like ane bewitched, +And thought his very een enriched; +Even Satan glowered, and fidged fu' fain, +And hotch'd and blew wi' might and main: {152a} +Till first ae caper, syne anither, +Tam tint his reason a'thegither, {152b} +And roars out, "Weel done, Cutty-sark!" +And in an instant a' was dark: +And scarcely had he Maggie rallied, +When out the hellish legion sallied. +As bees bizz out wi' angry fyke, {152c} +When plundering herds assail their byke; {152d} +As open pussie's mortal foes, +When, pop! she starts before their nose; +As eager runs the market-crowd, +When "Catch the thief!" resounds aloud; +So Maggie runs, the witches follow, +Wi' mony an eldritch screech and hollow. {152e} + +Ah, Tam! ah, Tam! thou'lt get thy fairin'! +In hell they'll roast thee like a herrin'! +In vain thy Kate awaits thy comin'! +Kate soon will be a woefu' woman! +Now, do thy speedy utmost, Meg, +And win the keystane of the brig; +There at them thou thy tail may toss, +A running stream they darena cross; +But ere the keystane she could make, +The fient a tail she had to shake! +For Nannie, far before the rest, +Hard upon noble Maggie prest, +And flew at Tam wi' furious ettle; {152f} +But little wist she Maggie's mettle - +Ae spring brought off her master hale, +But left behind her ain grey tail: +The carlin claught her by the rump, +And left poor Maggie scarce a stump. + +Now, wha this tale o' truth shall read, +Ilk man and mother's son, take heed: +Whane'er to drink you are inclined, +Or cutty-sarks run in your mind, +Think! ye may buy the joys owre dear - +Remember Tam o' Shanter's mare. + + + +THE DEMON SHIP + + + +BY THOMAS HOOD. + +'Twas off the Wash the sun went down--the sea looked black and grim, +For stormy clouds with murky fleece were mustering at the brim; +Titanic shades! enormous gloom!--as if the solid night +Of Erebus rose suddenly to seize upon the light! +It was a time for mariners to bear a wary eye, +With such a dark conspiracy between the sea and sky! + +Down went my helm--close reefed--the tack held freely in my hand - +With ballast snug--I put about, and scudded for the land; +Loud hissed the sea beneath her lee--my little boat flew fast, +But faster still the rushing storm came borne upon the blast. + +Lord! what a roaring hurricane beset the straining sail! +What furious sleet, with level drift, and fierce assaults of hail! +What darksome caverns yawned before! what jagged steeps behind! +Like battle-steeds, with foamy manes, wild tossing in the wind, +Each after each sank down astern, exhausted in the chase, +But where it sank another rose and galloped in its place; +As black as night--they turned to white, and cast against the cloud +A snowy sheet, as if each surge upturned a sailor's shroud:- +Still flew my boat; alas! alas! her course was nearly run! +Behold yon fatal billow rise--ten billows heaped in one! +With fearful speed the dreary mass came rolling, rolling fast, +As if the scooping sea contained one only wave at last; +Still on it came, with horrid roar, a swift pursuing grave; +It seemed as though some cloud had turned its hugeness to a wave! +Its briny sleet began to beat beforehand in my face - +I felt the rearward keel begin to climb its swelling base! +I saw its alpine hoary head impending over mine! +Another pulse--and down it rushed--an avalanche of brine! +Brief pause had I on God to cry, or think of wife and home; +The waters closed--and when I shrieked, I shrieked below the foam! +Beyond that rush I have no hint of any after-deed - +For I was tossing on the waste, as senseless as a weed. + + . . . . . + +"Where am I? in the breathing world, or in the world of death?" +With sharp and sudden pang I drew another birth of breath; +My eyes drank in a doubtful light, my ears a doubtful sound - +And was that ship a REAL ship whose tackle seemed around? +A moon, as if the earthly moon, was shining up aloft; +But were those beams the very beams that I have seen so oft? +A face that mocked the human face, before me watched alone; +But were those eyes the eyes of man that looked against my own? + +Oh! never may the moon again disclose me such a sight +As met my gaze, when first I looked, on that accursed night! +I've seen a thousand horrid shapes begot of fierce extremes +Of fever; and most frightful things have haunted in my dreams - +Hyenas--cats--blood-loving bats--and apes with hateful stare - +Pernicious snakes, and shaggy bulls--the lion, and she-bear - +Strong enemies, with Judas looks, of treachery and spite - +Detested features, hardly dimmed and banished by the light! +Pale-sheeted ghosts, with gory locks, upstarting from their tombs - +All phantasies and images that flit in midnight glooms - +Hags, goblins, demons, lemures, have made me all aghast, - +But nothing like that GRIMLY ONE who stood beside the mast! + +His cheek was black--his brow was black--his eyes and hair as dark; +His hand was black, and where it touched, it left a sable mark; +His throat was black, his vest the same, and when I looked beneath, +His breast was black--all, all was black, except his grinning teeth, +His sooty crew were like in hue, as black as Afric slaves! +Oh, horror! e'en the ship was black that ploughed the inky waves! +"Alas!" I cried, "for love of truth and blessed mercy's sake, +Where am I? in what dreadful ship? upon what dreadful lake? +What shape is that, so very grim, and black as any coal? +It is Mahound, the Evil One, and he has gained my soul! +Oh, mother dear! my tender nurse: dear meadows that beguiled +My happy days, when I was yet a little sinless child - +My mother dear--my native fields I never more shall see: +I'm sailing in the Devil's Ship, upon the Devil's Sea!" + +Loud laughed that SABLE MARINER, and loudly in return +His sooty crew sent forth a laugh that rang from stem to stern - +A dozen pair of grimly cheeks were crumpled on the nonce - +As many sets of grinning teeth came shining out at once: +A dozen gloomy shapes at once enjoyed the merry fit, +With shriek and yell, and oaths as well, like Demons of the Pit. +They crowed their fill, and then the Chief made answer for the +whole:- +"Our skins," said he, "are black, ye see, because we carry coal; +You'll find your mother sure enough, and see your native fields - +For this here ship has picked you up--the Mary Ann of Shields!" + + + +A TALE OF A TRUMPET + + + +BY THOMAS HOOD. + +"Old woman, old woman, will you go a-shearing? +Speak a little louder, for I'm very hard of hearing." + --Old Ballad. + +Of all old women hard of hearing, +The deafest sure was Dame Eleanor Spearing! + On her head, it is true, + Two flaps there grew, + That served for a pair of gold rings to go through, +But for any purpose of ears in a parley, +They heard no more than ears of barley. + +No hint was needed from D. E. F., +You saw in her face that the woman was deaf: + From her twisted mouth to her eyes so peery, + Each queer feature asked a query; +A look that said in a silent way, +"Who? and What? and How? and Eh? +I'd give my ears to know what you say!" + +And well she might! for each auricular +Was deaf as a post--and that post in particular +That stands at the corner of Dyott Street now, +And never hears a word of a row! +Ears that might serve her now and then +As extempore racks for an idle pen; +Or to hang with hoops from jewellers' shops; +With coral; ruby, or garnet drops; +Or, provided the owner so inclined, +Ears to stick a blister behind; +But as for hearing wisdom, or wit, +Falsehood, or folly, or tell-tale-tit, +Or politics, whether of Fox or Pitt, +Sermon, lecture, or musical bit, +Harp, piano, fiddle, or kit, +They might as well, for any such wish, +Have been buttered, done brown, and laid in a dish! + +She was deaf as a post,--as said before - +And as deaf as twenty similes more, +Including the adder, that deafest of snakes, +Which never hears the coil it makes. + +She was deaf as a house--which modern tricks +Of language would call as deaf as bricks - + For her all human kind were dumb, + Her drum, indeed, was so muffled a drum, + That none could get a sound to come, +Unless the Devil, who had Two Sticks! +She was as deaf as a stone--say one of the stones +Demosthenes sucked to improve his tones; +And surely deafness no further could reach +Than to be in his mouth without hearing his speech! + +She was deaf as a nut--for nuts, no doubt, +Are deaf to the grub that's hollowing out - +As deaf, alas! as the dead and forgotten - +(Gray has noticed the waste of breath, +In addressing the "dull, cold ear of death"), +Or the felon's ear that is stuffed with cotton - +Or Charles the First in statue quo; +Or the still-born figures of Madame Tussaud, +With their eyes of glass, and their hair of flax, +That only stare whatever you "ax," +For their ears, you know, are nothing but wax. + +She was deaf as the ducks that swam in the pond, +And wouldn't listen to Mrs. Bond, - +As deaf as any Frenchman appears, +When he puts his shoulders into his ears: +And--whatever the citizen tells his son - +As deaf as Gog and Magog at one! +Or, still to be a simile-seeker, +As deaf as dogs'-ears to Enfield's Speaker! + +She was deaf as any tradesman's dummy, +Or as Pharaoh's mother's mother's mummy; +Whose organs, for fear of modern sceptics, +Were plugged with gums and antiseptics. + +She was deaf as a nail--that you cannot hammer +A meaning into for all your clamour - +There never WAS such a deaf old Gammer! + So formed to worry + Both Lindley and Murray, +By having no ear for Music or Grammar! + +Deaf to sounds, as a ship out of soundings, +Deaf to verbs, and all their compoundings, +Adjective, noun, and adverb, and particle, +Deaf to even the definite article - +No verbal message was worth a pin, +Though you hired an earwig to carry it in! + +In short, she was twice as deaf as Deaf Burke, +Or all the Deafness in Yearsley's work, +Who in spite of his skill in hardness of hearing, + Boring, blasting, and pioneering, + To give the dunny organ a clearing, +Could never have cured Dame Eleanor Spearing. + +Of course the loss was a great privation, +For one of her sex--whatever her station - +And none the less that the dame had a turn +For making all families one concern, +And learning whatever there was to learn +In the prattling, tattling village of Tringham - +As, who wore silk? and who wore gingham? +And what the Atkins's shop might bring 'em? +How the Smiths contrived to live? and whether +The fourteen Murphys all pigged together? +The wages per week of the Weavers and Skinners, +And what they boiled for their Sunday dinners? +What plates the Bugsbys had on the shelf, +Crockery, china, wooden, or delf? +And if the parlour of Mrs. O'Grady +Had a wicked French print, or Death and the Lady? +Did Snip and his wife continue to jangle? +Had Mrs. Wilkinson sold her mangle? +What liquor was drunk by Jones and Brown? +And the weekly score they ran up at the Crown? +If the cobbler could read, and believed in the Pope? +And how the Grubbs were off for soap? +If the Snobbs had furnished their room upstairs, +And how they managed for tables and chairs, +Beds, and other household affairs, +Iron, wooden, and Staffordshire wares? + And if they could muster a whole pair of bellows? +In fact she had much of the spirit that lies +Perdu in a notable set of Paul Prys, + By courtesy called Statistical Fellows - +A prying, spying, inquisitive clan, +Who have gone upon much of the self-same plan, + Jotting the labouring class's riches; +And after poking in pot and pan, + And routing garments in want of stitches, +Have ascertained that a working man + Wears a pair and a quarter of average breeches! + +But this, alas! from her loss of hearing, +Was all a sealed book to Dame Eleanor Spearing; + And often her tears would rise to their founts - +Supposing a little scandal at play +'Twixt Mrs. O'Fie and Mrs. Au Fait - + That she couldn't audit the gossips' accounts. +'Tis true, to her cottage still they came, +And ate her muffins just the same, +And drank the tea of the widowed dame, +And never swallowed a thimble the less +Of something the reader is left to guess, +For all the deafness of Mrs. S. + Who SAW them talk, and chuckle, and cough, +But to SEE and not share in the social flow, +She might as well have lived, you know, +In one of the houses in Owen's Row, + Near the New River Head, with its water cut off! +And yet the almond oil she had tried, +And fifty infallible things beside, +Hot, and cold, and thick, and thin, +Dabbed, and dribbled, and squirted in: +But all remedies failed; and though some it was clear, + Like the brandy and salt + We now exalt, +Had made a noise in the public ear, +She was just as deaf as ever, poor dear! + +At last--one very fine day in June - + Suppose her sitting, + Busily knitting, +And humming she didn't quite know what tune; + For nothing she heard but a sort of whizz, +Which, unless the sound of circulation, +Or of thoughts in the process of fabrication, +By a spinning-jennyish operation, + It's hard to say what buzzing it is. +However, except that ghost of a sound, +She sat in a silence most profound - +The cat was purring about the mat, +But her mistress heard no more of that +Than if it had been a boatswain's cat; +And as for the clock the moments nicking, +The dame only gave it credit for ticking. +The bark of her dog she did not catch; +Nor yet the click of the lifted latch; +Nor yet the creak of the opening door; +Nor yet the fall of a foot on the floor - +But she saw the shadow that crept on her gown +And turned its skirt of a darker brown. + +And lo! a man! a Pedlar! ay, marry, +With the little back-shop that such tradesmen carry, +Stocked with brooches, ribbons, and rings, +Spectacles, razors, and other odd things +For lad and lass, as Autolycus sings; +A chapman for goodness and cheapness of ware, +Held a fair dealer enough at a fair, +But deemed a piratical sort of invader +By him we dub the "regular trader," +Who--luring the passengers in as they pass +By lamps, gay panels, and mouldings of brass, +And windows with only one huge pane of glass, +And his name in gilt characters, German or Roman - +If he isn't a Pedlar, at least he's a Showman! + +However, in the stranger came, +And, the moment he met the eyes of the Dame, +Threw her as knowing a nod as though +He had known her fifty long years ago: +And presto! before she could utter "Jack" - +Much less "Robinson"--opened his pack - + And then from amongst his portable gear, +With even more than a Pedlar's tact, - +(Slick himself might have envied the act) - +Before she had time to be deaf, in fact - + Popped a Trumpet into her ear. + "There, Ma'am! try it! + You needn't buy it - + The last New Patent, and nothing comes nigh it +For affording the deaf, at a little expense, +The sense of hearing, and hearing of sense! +A Real Blessing--and no mistake, +Invented for poor Humanity's sake: +For what can be a greater privation +Than playing Dumby to all creation, +And only looking at conversation - +Great philosophers talking like Platos, +And Members of Parliament moral as Catos, +And your ears as dull as waxy potatoes! +Not to name the mischievous quizzers, +Sharp as knives, but double as scissors, +Who get you to answer quite by guess +Yes for No, and No for Yes." +("That's very true," says Dame Eleanor S.) + +"Try it again! No harm in trying - +I'm sure you'll find it worth your buying. +A little practice--that is all - +And you'll hear a whisper, however small, +Through an Act of Parliament party-wall, - +Every syllable clear as day, +And even what people are going to say - + I wouldn't tell a lie, I wouldn't, + But my Trumpets have heard what Solomon's couldn't; +And as for Scott he promises fine, +But can he warrant his horns like mine, +Never to hear what a lady shouldn't - +Only a guinea--and can't take less." +("That's very dear," said Dame Eleanor S.) + + "Dear!--Oh dear, to call it dear! +Why, it isn't a horn you buy, but an ear; +Only think, and you'll find on reflection +You're bargaining, ma'am, for the Voice of Affection; +For the language of Wisdom, and Virtue, and Truth, +And the sweet little innocent prattle of Youth: +Not to mention the striking of clocks - +Cackle of hens--crowing of cocks - +Lowing of cow, and bull, and ox - +Bleating of pretty pastoral flocks - +Murmur of waterfall over the rocks - +Every sound that Echo mocks - +Vocals, fiddles, and musical-box - +And zounds! to call such a concert dear! +But I mustn't 'swear with my horn in your ear.' +Why, in buying that Trumpet you buy all those +That Harper, or any Trumpeter, blows +At the Queen's Levees or the Lord Mayor's Shows, +At least as far as the music goes, +Including the wonderful lively sound, +Of the Guards' key-bugles all the year round; +Come--suppose we call it a pound! +Come," said the talkative Man of the Pack, +"Before I put my box on my back, +For this elegant, useful Conductor of Sound, +Come, suppose we call it a pound! + +"Only a pound: it's only the price +Of hearing a concert once or twice, + It's only the fee + You might give Mr. C. +And after all not hear his advice, +But common prudence would bid you stump it; + For, not to enlarge, + It's the regular charge +At a Fancy Fair for a penny trumpet. +Lord! what's a pound to the blessing of hearing!" +("A pound's a pound," said Dame Eleanor Spearing.) + +"Try it again! no harm in trying! +A pound's a pound, there's no denying; +But think what thousands and thousands of pounds +We pay for nothing but hearing sounds: +Sounds of Equity, Justice, and Law, +Parliamentary jabber and jaw, +Pious cant, and moral saw, +Hocus-pocus, and Nong-tong-paw, +And empty sounds not worth a straw; +Why, it costs a guinea, as I'm a sinner, +To hear the sounds at a public dinner! +One pound one thrown into the puddle, +To listen to Fiddle, Faddle, and Fuddle! +Not to forget the sounds we buy +From those who sell their sounds so high, +That, unless the managers pitch it strong, +To get a signora to warble a song, +You must fork out the blunt with a haymaker's prong! + +"It's not the thing for me--I know it, +To crack my own trumpet up and blow it; +But it is the best, and time will show it. + There was Mrs. F. + So very deaf, +That she might have worn a percussion cap, +And been knocked on the head without hearing it snap, +Well, I sold her a horn, and the very next day +She heard from her husband at Botany Bay! +Come--eighteen shillings--that's very low, +You'll save the money as shillings go, +And I never knew so bad a lot, +By hearing whether they ring or not! + +"Eighteen shillings! it's worth the price, +Supposing you're delicate-minded and nice, +To have the medical man of your choice, +Instead of the one with the strongest voice - +Who comes and asks you, how's your liver, +And where you ache, and whether you shiver, +And as to your nerves, so apt to quiver, +As if he was hailing a boat on the river! +And then, with a shout, like Pat in a riot, +Tells you to keep yourself perfectly quiet! + +"Or a tradesman comes--as tradesmen will - +Short and crusty about his bill; + Of patience, indeed, a perfect scorner, +And because you're deaf and unable to pay, +Shouts whatever he has to say, +In a vulgar voice, that goes over the way, + Down the street and round the corner! +Come--speak your mind--it's 'No' or 'Yes.'" +("I've half a mind," said Dame Eleanor S.) + +"Try it again--no harm in trying, +Of course you hear me, as easy as lying; +No pain at all, like a surgical trick, +To make you squall, and struggle, and kick, + Like Juno, or Rose, + Whose ear undergoes +Such horrid tugs at membrane and gristle, +For being as deaf as yourself to a whistle! + +"You may go to surgical chaps if you choose, +Who will blow up your tubes like copper flues, +Or cut your tonsils right away, +As you'd shell out your almonds for Christmas Day; +And after all a matter of doubt, +Whether you ever would hear the shout +Of the little blackguards that bawl about, +'There you go with your tonsils out!' + Why I knew a deaf Welshman, who came from Glamorgan +On purpose to try a surgical spell, +And paid a guinea, and might as well + Have called a monkey into his organ! +For the Aurist only took a mug, +And poured in his ear some acoustical drug, +That, instead of curing, deafened him rather, +As Hamlet's uncle served Hamlet's father! +That's the way with your surgical gentry! + And happy your luck + If you don't get stuck +Through your liver and lights at a royal entry, +Because you never answered the sentry! + +"Try it again, dear madam, try it! +Many would sell their beds to buy it. +I warrant you often wake up in the night, +Ready to shake to a jelly with fright, +And up you must get to strike a light, +And down you go, in you know what, +Whether the weather is chilly or hot, - +That's the way a cold is got, - +To see if you heard a noise or not. + +"Why, bless you, a woman with organs like yours +Is hardly safe to step out of doors! +Just fancy a horse that comes full pelt, +But as quiet as if he was shod with felt, +Till he rushes against you with all his force, +And then I needn't describe of course, +While he kicks you about without remorse, +How awkward it is to be groomed by a horse! +Or a bullock comes, as mad as King Lear, +And you never dream that the brute is near, +Till he pokes his horn right into your ear, +Whether you like the thing or lump it, - +And all for want of buying a trumpet! + +"I'm not a female to fret and vex, +But if I belonged to the sensitive sex, +Exposed to all sorts of indelicate sounds, +I wouldn't be deaf for a thousand pounds. + Lord! only think of chucking a copper +To Jack or Bob with a timber limb, +Who looks as if he was singing a hymn, + Instead of a song that's very improper! +Or just suppose in a public place +You see a great fellow a-pulling a face, +With his staring eyes and his mouth like an O, - +And how is a poor deaf lady to know, - +The lower orders are up to such games - +If he's calling 'Green Peas,' or calling her names?" +("They're tenpence a peck!" said the deafest of dames.) + +"'Tis strange what very strong advising, +By word of mouth, or advertising, +By chalking on wall, or placarding on vans, +With fifty other different plans, +The very high pressure, in fact, of pressing, +It needs to persuade one to purchase a blessing! +Whether the soothing American Syrup, +A Safety Hat, or a Safety Stirrup, - +Infallible Pills for the human frame, +Or Rowland's O-don't-O (an ominous name)! +A Doudney's suit which the shape so hits +That it beats all others into FITS; +A Mechi's razor for beards unshorn, +Or a Ghost-of-a-Whisper-Catching Horn! + +"Try it again, ma'am, only try!" +Was still the voluble Pedlar's cry; +"It's a great privation, there's no dispute, +To live like the dumb unsociable brute, +And to hear no more of the pro and con, +And how Society's going on, +Than Mumbo Jumbo or Prester John, +And all for want of this sine qua non; + Whereas, with a horn that never offends, +You may join the genteelest party that is, +And enjoy all the scandal, and gossip, and quiz, + And be certain to hear of your absent friends; - +Not that elegant ladies, in fact, +In genteel society ever detract, +Or lend a brush when a friend is blacked, - +At least as a mere malicious act, - +But only talk scandal for fear some fool +Should think they were bred at CHARITY school. + Or, maybe, you like a little flirtation, +Which even the most Don Juanish rake +Would surely object to undertake + At the same high pitch as an altercation. +It's not for me, of course, to judge +How much a deaf lady ought to begrudge; +But half-a-guinea seems no great matter - +Letting alone more rational patter - +Only to hear a parrot chatter: +Not to mention that feathered wit, +The starling, who speaks when his tongue is slit; +The pies and jays that utter words, +And other Dicky Gossips of birds, +That talk with as much good sense and decorum +As many Beaks who belong to the Quorum. + +"Try it--buy it--say ten and six, +The lowest price a miser could fix: +I don't pretend with horns of mine, +Like some in the advertising line, +To 'MAGNIFY SOUNDS' on such marvellous scales, +That the sounds of a cod seem as big as a whale's; +But popular rumours, right or wrong, - +Charity sermons, short or long, - +Lecture, speech, concerto, or song, +All noises and voices, feeble or strong, +From the hum of a gnat to the clash of a gong, +This tube will deliver distinct and clear; + Or, supposing by chance + You wish to dance, +Why it's putting a Horn-pipe into your ear! + Try it--buy it! + Buy it--try it! +The last New Patent, and nothing comes nigh it, + For guiding sounds to their proper tunnel: +Only try till the end of June, +And if you and the trumpet are out of tune + I'll turn it gratis into a funnel!" +In short, the pedlar so beset her, - +Lord Bacon couldn't have gammoned her better, - +With flatteries plump and indirect, +And plied his tongue with such effect, - +A tongue that could almost have buttered a crumpet: +The deaf old woman bought the Trumpet. + + . . . . . + . . . . . + +The pedlar was gone. With the horn's assistance, +She heard his steps die away in the distance; +And then she heard the tick of the clock, +The purring of puss, and the snoring of Shock; +And she purposely dropped a pin that was little, +And heard it fall as plain as a skittle! + +'Twas a wonderful horn, to be but just! +Nor meant to gather dust, must, and rust; +So in half a jiffy, or less than that, +In her scarlet cloak and her steeple-hat, +Like old Dame Trot, but without her cat, +The gossip was hunting all Tringham thorough, +As if she meant to canvass the borough, + Trumpet in hand, or up to the cavity; - +And, sure, had the horn been one of those +The wild rhinoceros wears on his nose, + It couldn't have ripped up more depravity! + +Depravity! mercy shield her ears! +'Twas plain enough that her village peers + In the ways of vice were no raw beginners; +For whenever she raised the tube to her drum +Such sounds were transmitted as only come + From the very Brass Band of human sinners! +Ribald jest and blasphemous curse +(Bunyan never vented worse), +With all those weeds, not flowers, of speech +Which the Seven Dialecticians teach; +Filthy Conjunctions, and Dissolute Nouns, +And Particles picked from the kennels of towns, +With Irregular Verbs for irregular jobs, +Chiefly active in rows and mobs, +Picking Possessive Pronouns' fobs, +And Interjections as bad as a blight, +Or an Eastern blast, to the blood and the sight: +Fanciful phrases for crime and sin, +And smacking of vulgar lips where Gin, +Garlic, Tobacco, and offals go in - +A jargon so truly adapted, in fact, +To each thievish, obscene, and ferocious act, +So fit for the brute with the human shape, +Savage Baboon, or libidinous Ape, +From their ugly mouths it will certainly come +Should they ever get weary of shamming dumb! + +Alas! for the Voice of Virtue and Truth, +And the sweet little innocent prattle of Youth! +The smallest urchin whose tongue could tang, +Shocked the Dame with a volley of slang, +Fit for Fagin's juvenile gang; + While the charity chap, + With his muffin cap, + His crimson coat, and his badge so garish, +Playing at dumps, or pitch in the hole, +Cursed his eyes, limbs, body and soul, + As if they did not belong to the Parish! + +'Twas awful to hear, as she went along, +The wicked words of the popular song; + Or supposing she listened--as gossips will - +At a door ajar, or a window agape, +To catch the sounds they allowed to escape. + Those sounds belonged to Depravity still! +The dark allusion, or bolder brag +Of the dexterous "dodge," and the lots of "swag," +The plundered house--or the stolen nag - +The blazing rick, or the darker crime, +That quenched the spark before its time - +The wanton speech of the wife immoral, +The noise of drunken or deadly quarrel, +With savage menace, which threatened the life, +Till the heart seemed merely a strop for the knife; +The human liver, no better than that +Which is sliced and thrown to an old woman's cat; + And the head, so useful for shaking and nodding, +To be punched into holes, like a "shocking bad hat" + That is only fit to be punched into wadding! + +In short, wherever she turned the horn, +To the highly bred, or the lowly born, +The working man, who looked over the hedge, +Or the mother nursing her infant pledge. + The sober Quaker, averse to quarrels, +Or the Governess pacing the village through, +With her twelve Young Ladies, two and two, +Looking, as such young ladies do, + Trussed by Decorum and stuffed with morals - +Whether she listened to Hob or Bob, + Nob or Snob, + The Squire on his cob, +Or Trudge and his ass at a tinkering job, +To the "Saint" who expounded at "Little Zion" - +Or the "Sinner" who kept the "Golden Lion" - +The man teetotally weaned from liquor - +The Beadle, the Clerk, or the Reverend Vicar - +Nay, the very Pie in its cage of wicker - +She gathered such meanings, double or single, + That like the bell, + With muffins to sell, +Her ear was kept in a constant tingle! + +But this was nought to the tales of shame, +The constant runnings of evil fame, +Foul, and dirty, and black as ink, +That her ancient cronies, with nod and wink, +Poured in her horn like slops in a sink: + While sitting in conclave, as gossips do, +With their Hyson or Howqua, black or green, +And not a little of feline spleen, + Lapped up in "Catty packages," too, + To give a zest to the sipping and supping; +For still by some invisible tether, +Scandal and Tea are linked together, + As surely as Scarification and Cupping; +Yet never since Scandal drank Bohea - +Or sloe, or whatever it happened to be, + For some grocerly thieves + Turn over new leaves, +Without much mending their lives or their tea - +No, never since cup was filled or stirred +Were such wild and horrible anecdotes heard, +As blackened their neighbours of either gender, +Especially that, which is called the Tender, +But instead of the softness we fancy therewith, +Was hardened in vice as the vice of a smith. + +Women! the wretches! had soiled and marred + Whatever to womanly nature belongs; +For the marriage tie they had no regard, +Nay, sped their mates to the sexton's yard, + (Like Madame Laffarge, who with poisonous pinches + Kept cutting off her L by inches) - +And as for drinking, they drank so hard +That they drank their flat-irons, pokers, and tongs! + +The men--they fought and gambled at fairs; +And poached--and didn't respect grey hairs - +Stole linen, money, plate, poultry, and corses; +And broke in houses as well as horses; +Unfolded folds to kill their own mutton, - +And would their own mothers and wives for a button: +But not to repeat the deeds they did, +Backsliding in spite of all moral skid, +If all were true that fell from the tongue, +There was not a villager, old or young, +But deserved to be whipped, imprisoned, or hung, +Or sent on those travels which nobody hurries, +To publish at Colburn's, or Longmans', or Murray's. + +Meanwhile the Trumpet, con amore, +Transmitted each vile diabolical story; +And gave the least whisper of slips and falls, +As that Gallery does in the Dome of St. Paul's, +Which, as all the world knows, by practice or print, +Is famous for making the most of a hint. + Not a murmur of shame, + Or buzz of blame, +Not a flying report that flew at a name, +Not a plausible gloss, or significant note, +Not a word in the scandalous circles afloat, +Of a beam in the eye, or diminutive mote, +But vortex-like that tube of tin +Sucked the censorious particle in; + And, truth to tell, for as willing an organ +As ever listened to serpent's hiss, +Nor took the viperous sound amiss, + On the snaky head of an ancient Gorgon! + +The Dame, it is true, would mutter "shocking!" +And give her head a sorrowful rocking, +And make a clucking with palate and tongue, +Like the call of Partlet to gather her young, +A sound, when human, that always proclaims +At least a thousand pities and shames; + But still the darker the tale of sin, +Like certain folks, when calamities burst, +Who find a comfort in "hearing the worst," + The farther she poked the Trumpet in. +Nay, worse, whatever she heard she spread + East and West, and North and South, +Like the ball which, according to Captain Z., + Went in at his ear, and came out at his mouth. +What wonder between the Horn and the Dame, +Such mischief was made wherever they came, +That the parish of Tringham was all in a flame! + + For although it required such loud discharges, +Such peals of thunder as rumbled at Lear, +To turn the smallest of table-beer, +A little whisper breathed into the ear + Will sour a temper "as sour as varges." +In fact such very ill blood there grew, + From this private circulation of stories, +That the nearest neighbours the village through, +Looked at each other as yellow and blue, +As any electioneering crew + Wearing the colours of Whigs and Tories. +Ah! well the Poet said, in sooth, +That "whispering tongues can poison Truth," - + Yes, like a dose of oxalic acid, +Wrench and convulse poor Peace, the placid, +And rack dear Love with internal fuel, +Like arsenic pastry, or what is as cruel, +Sugar of lead, that sweetens gruel, - +At least such torments began to wring 'em + From the very morn + When that mischievous Horn +Caught the whisper of tongues in Tringham. + +The Social Clubs dissolved in huffs, +And the Sons of Harmony came to cuffs, +While feuds arose and family quarrels, +That discomposed the mechanics of morals, +For screws were loose between brother and brother, +While sisters fastened their nails on each other; +Such wrangles, and jangles, and miff, and tiff, +And spar, and jar--and breezes as stiff +As ever upset a friendship--or skiff! +The plighted lovers who used to walk, +Refused to meet, and declined to talk: +And wished for two moons to reflect the sun, +That they mightn't look together on one: +While wedded affection ran so low, +That the oldest John Anderson snubbed his Jo - +And instead of the toddle adown the hill, + Hand in hand, + As the song has planned, +Scratched her, penniless, out of his will! +In short, to describe what came to pass + In a true, though somewhat theatrical way, +Instead of "Love in a Village"--alas! + The piece they performed was "The Devil to Pay!" + +However, as secrets are brought to light, +And mischief comes home like chickens at night; +And rivers are tracked throughout their course, +And forgeries traced to their proper source; - + And the sow that ought + By the ear is caught, - +And the sin to the sinful door is brought; +And the cat at last escapes from the bag - +And the saddle is placed on the proper nag - +And the fog blows off, and the key is found - +And the faulty scent is picked out by the hound - +And the fact turns up like a worm from the ground - +And the matter gets wind to waft it about; +And a hint goes abroad, and the murder is out - +And a riddle is guessed--and the puzzle is known - +So the Truth was sniffed, and the Trumpet was blown! + + . . . . . + + 'Tis a day in November--a day of fog - +But the Tringham people are all agog! + Fathers, Mothers, and Mothers' Sons, - + With sticks, and staves, and swords, and guns, - +As if in pursuit of a rabid dog; +But their voices--raised to the highest pitch - +Declare that the game is "a Witch!--a Witch!" + +Over the Green and along by the George - +Past the Stocks and the Church, and the Forge, +And round the Pound, and skirting the Pond, +Till they come to the whitewashed cottage beyond, +And there at the door they muster and cluster, +And thump, and kick, and bellow, and bluster - +Enough to put Old Nick in a fluster! +A noise, indeed, so loud and long, +And mixed with expressions so very strong, +That supposing, according to popular fame, +"Wise Woman" and Witch to be the same, +No hag with a broom would unwisely stop, +But up and away through the chimney-top; +Whereas, the moment they burst the door, +Planted fast on her sanded floor, +With her trumpet up to her organ of hearing, +Lo and behold!--Dame Eleanor Spearing! + +Oh! then rises the fearful shout - +Bawled and screamed, and bandied about - +"Seize her!--Drag the old Jezebel out!" +While the Beadle--the foremost of all the band, +Snatches the Horn from her trembling hand - +And after a pause of doubt and fear, +Puts it up to his sharpest ear. +"Now silence--silence--one and all!" +For the Clerk is quoting from Holy Paul! + But before he rehearses + A couple of verses, +The Beadle lets the Trumpet fall! +For instead of the words so pious and humble, +He hears a supernatural grumble. + +Enough, enough! and more than enough; - +Twenty impatient hands and rough, +By arm and leg, and neck and scruff, +Apron, 'kerchief, gown of stuff - +Cap and pinner, sleeve and cuff - +Are clutching the Witch wherever they can, +With the spite of woman and fury of man; +And then--but first they kill her cat, +And murder her dog on the very mat - +And crush the infernal Trumpet flat; - +And then they hurry her through the door +She never, never will enter more! + +Away! away! down the dusty lane +They pull her and haul her, with might and main; +And happy the hawbuck, Tom or Harry, +Dandy or Sandy, Jerry or Larry, +Who happens to get "a leg to carry!" +And happy the foot that can give her a kick, +And happy the hand that can find a brick - +And happy the fingers that hold a stick - +Knife to cut, or pin to prick - +And happy the boy who can lend her a lick; - +Nay, happy the urchin--Charity-bred, - +Who can shy very nigh to her wicked old head! + +Alas! to think how people's creeds +Are contradicted by people's deeds! + But though the wishes that Witches utter +Can play the most diabolical rigs - +Send styes in the eye--and measle the pigs - +Grease horses' heels--and spoil the butter; +Smut and mildew the corn on the stalk - +And turn new milk to water and chalk, - +Blight apples--and give the chickens the pip - +And cramp the stomach--and cripple the hip - +And waste the body--and addle the eggs - +And give a baby bandy legs; +Though in common belief a Witch's curse +Involves all these horrible things and worse - +As ignorant bumpkins all profess, +No bumpkin makes a poke the less +At the back or ribs of old Eleanor S.! + As if she were only a sack of barley! +Or gives her credit for greater might +Than the Powers of Darkness confer at night + On that other old woman, the parish Charley! + +Ay, now's the time for a Witch to call +On her imps and sucklings one and all - +Newes, Pyewacket, or Peck in the Crown, +(As Matthew Hopkins has handed them down) +Dick, and Willet, and Sugar-and-Sack, +Greedy Grizel, Jarmara the Black, +Vinegar Tom, and the rest of the pack - +Ay, now's the nick for her friend Old Harry +To come "with his tail," like the bold Glengarry, +And drive her foes from their savage job +As a mad black bullock would scatter a mob:- + But no such matter is down in the bond; +And spite of her cries that never cease, +But scare the ducks and astonish the geese, +The dame is dragged to the fatal pond! + +And now they come to the water's brim - +And in they bundle her--sink or swim; +Though it's twenty to one that the wretch must drown, +With twenty sticks to hold her down; +Including the help to the self-same end, +Which a travelling Pedlar stops to lend. +A Pedlar!--Yes!--The same!--the same! +Who sold the Horn to the drowning Dame! +And now is foremost amid the stir, +With a token only revealed to her; +A token that makes her shudder and shriek, +And point with her finger, and strive to speak - +But before she can utter the name of the Devil, +Her head is under the water level! + + + +MORAL. + +There are folks about town--to name no names - +Who much resemble the deafest of Dames! + And over their tea, and muffins, and crumpets, +Circulate many a scandalous word, +And whisper tales they could only have heard + Through some such Diabolical Trumpets! + + + +GLOSSARY + + + +{114} And, in old English could be placed like "also" in different +parts of a sentence. Thus, in Nymphidia, + "She hies her then to Lethe spring, + A bottle and thereof doth bring." +{129} Atalantis, "As long as Atalantis shall be read." Atalantis +was a book of Court scandal by Mrs. De la Riviere Manley, in four +volumes, entitled "Secret Memoirs and Manners of several Persons of +Quality of both Sexes from the New Atalantis, an Island in the +Mediterranean." Mrs. Manley died in 1724. + +{94h} Bauzon, badger. French, bausin. +{147a} Billies, fellows, used rather contemptuously. +{147f} Blellum, idle talker. +{150a} Boddle, a Scottish copper coin worth the third part of an +English halfpenny; said to be named after the Mint-master who first +coined it, Bothwell. +{150h} Bore, hole in the wall. +{91e} But, "without," "but merriness," without mirth. +{152d} Byke, hive. + +{150f} Cantrip, charm, spell. Icelandic, gandr, enchantment; gand- +reithr was the witches' ride. +{83} Can'wick Street, Candlewick, where now there is Cannon Street. +{86a} Champarty, Champartage, was a feudal levy of a share of profit +from the ground (campi pars), based originally upon aid given to +enable profit to be earned. Thus it became a law term for right of +a stranger to fixed share in any profits that on such condition he +helped a litigant to win. +{85b} Chiche vache, lean cow. French chiche, Latin ciccus, +wretched, worthless; from Greek kikkos, the core of a pomegranate. +Worth no more than a pomegranate seed. +{94i} Cockers, rustic half-boots. +{151g} Coft, bought. German, kaufte. +{82b} Copen, buy. Dutch, koopen. +{94j} Cordiwin, or cordewane, Cordovan leather. +{89} Coueyn, coveyne convening or conspiring of two or more to +defraud. +{94f} Crank, lively. A boat was "crank" when frail, lightly and +easily tossed on the waves, and liable to upset. Prof. Skeat thinks +that the image of the tossed boat suggested lively movement. +{151c} Creeshie flannen, greasy flannel. +{151e} Cummock, a short staff with a crooked head. +{151f} Cutty, short; so cutty pipe, short pipe. + +{85a} Darrain, decide. To "arraign" was to summon ad rationes to +the pleadings. To darraign was derationare, to bring them to a +decision. +{86b} Defy, digest. As in the Vision of Piers Plowman + "wyn of Ossye + Of Ruyn and of Rochel, the rost to defye." +Latin, defio = deficio, to make one's self to be removed from +something, or something to be removed from one's self. To defy in +the sense of challenging is a word of different origin, diffidere, +to separate from fides, faith, trust, allegiance to another. +{91d} Degest, orderly. To "digest" is to separate and arrange in an +orderly manner. +{150e} Dirl, vibrate, echo. +{147b} Drouthy, droughty, thirsty. +{151a} Duddies, clothes. + +{152e} Eldritch, also elrische, alrische, alry, having relation to +elves or evil spirits, supernatural, hideous, frightful. +{152f} Ettle, endeavour, aim. Icelandic, aetla, to mean anything, +design, have aim, is the Scottish ettle. + +{108d} Fire-drake, dragon breathing out fire. +{91b} Flicht and wary, fluctuate and change. +{92b} Frawfull fary, froward tumult. +{152c} Fyke, fuss. +{30} Fytte, a song, canto. First English, fit, a song. +When Wisdom "thas fitte asungen haefde" had sung this song. King +Alfred's Boethius. + +{150g} Gab, mouth. +{148b} Gars, makes; "gars me greet," makes me weep. +{147h} Gate, road. Icelandic, gata. + +{35} Habergeon, small hauberk, armour for the neck. Old High +German, hals, the neck; bergan, to protect. +{94d} Harlock, This plant-name occurs only here and in Shakespeare's +Lear, Act iv. sc. 4, where Lear is said to be crowned "with +harlocks, hemlocks, nettles, cuckoo-flowers." Probably it is +charlock, Sinapis arvensis, the mustard-plant. +{98} Hays, The hay was a French dance, with many turnings and +windings. +{100} Hient Hill, Ben Hiand, in Ardnamurchan, Argyleshire. +{152a} Hotched, hitched. + +{147g} Ilka, each one, every. +{85c} Infere, together. +{148c} Ingle, fire. Gaelic, aingeal, allied to Latin ignis. + +{95b} Keep, "take thou no keep"--heed, "never mind." +{148f} Kirkton, familiar term for the village in which the country +people had their church. + +{94k} Ladysmock, Cardamine pratensis. +{93b} Leir, lore, doctrine. +{94g} Learned his sheep, taught his sheep. +{94a} Lemster, Leominster. +{95a} Lingell, a shoemaker's thong. Latin lingula. +{151h} Linkit, tripped, moved briskly. +{108c} Lubrican, the Irish leprechaun, a fairy in shape of an old +man, discovered by the moan he makes. He brings wealth, and is +fixed only as long as the finder keeps his eye upon him. + +{108b} Mandrake, the root of mandragora, rudely shaped like the +forked animal man, and said to groan or shriek when pulled out of +the earth. +{93c} Marchpine, sweet biscuit of sugar and almonds. Marchpane +paste was used by comfit-makers for shaping into letters, true-love +knots, birds, beasts, etc. +{130} Megrim, pain on one side of the head, headache. French +migraine, from Gr. eemikrania. +{147i} Melder, milling. The quantity of meal ground at once. +{148a} Mirk, dark. +{108a} Molewarp, mole. First English, moldwearp. + +{148e} Nappy, nap, strong beer. + +{126} Pam, Knave of Clubs, the highest card in the game of Loo, +derived from "palm," as "trump" from "triumph." +{137} Partridge, a maker of prophetic almanacs, who was ridiculed by +Swift as type of his bad craft. +{94b} Peakish hull, hill by the Peak of Derbyshire. +{19} Pose, catarrh. First English, geposu. + "By the pose in thy nose, + And the gout in thy toes." + --Beaumont and Fletcher. +{88b} Prow, profit. Old French, prou, preu--"Oil voir, sire, pour +vostre preu i viens."--Garin le Loharain. + +{91a} Qu, Scottish = W. Quhair, where; quhois, whose; quheill, +wheel; quha, quho, who; quhat, what. + +{82a} Ray, striped cloth. +{151d} Rigwoodie, tough. Rigwiddie is the rope crossing the back of +a horse yoked in a cart; rig, back, and withy, a twig. Applied to +anything strong-backed. +{82c} Rise, "cherries in the rise," cherries on the twig. First +English, hris, a twig, or thin branch. The old practice of selling +cherries upon shoots cut from the tree ended in their sale by +pennyworths with their stalks tied to a little stick of wood. So +they were sold in London when I was a boy. + +{151b} Sark, shirt or shift. First English, syrc. +{94c} Setiwall, garden valerian. +{147e} Skellum, a worthless fellow. German, schelm. +{149a} Skelpit, beat the ground with strong pulsation; rode quickly; +pounded along. +{150d} Skirl, sound shrill. +{147d} Slaps, breaks in walls or hedges; also narrow passes. +{149b} Smoored, smothered. +{151j} Spean, wean. +{32} Spear-hawk, sparrow-hawk. From the root spar, to quiver or +flutter, comes the name of "sparrow" and a part of the name +"sparrow-hawk." +{94e} Summerhall, Stubbs, in the "Anatomy of Abuses," speaking of +the maypole, tells how villagers, when they have reared it up, "with +handkerchiefs and flags streaming on the top, they strew the ground +about, bind green boughs about it, set up summerhalls, bowers, and +arbours hard by it, and then fall they to banquet and feast, and +leap and dance about it." +{148d} Swats, new ale, wort. First English, swate. + +{88c} Teen, vexation, grief. +{152b} Tint, lost. +{150c} Towsie tyke, a large rough cur. +{92a} Tynsall, loss. + +{147c} Unco', uncouth, more than was known usually. + +{151i} Wally, walie thriving. First English, waelig. +{91c} Warsill, wrestle. +{150b} Winnock-bunker, the window seat. +{93d} Woned, dwelt. +{17} Wottest, knowest. +{88a} Woxen, grown. + +{93a} Yconned, taught. +{81} Yode, went. First English, eode, past of gan, to go. + + + +NOTES. + + + +{21} This old French and Anglo-Norman word, answering to the Italian +gentilezza, and signifying the possession of every species of +refinement, has been retained as supplying a want which there is no +modern word to fill up.--Leigh Hunt. + +{26} The sententious sermon which here follows might have had a +purely serious intention in Chaucer's time, when books were rare, +and moralities not such commonplaces as they are now; yet it is +difficult to believe that the poet did not intend something of a +covert satire upon at least the sermoniser's own pretensions, +especially as the latter had declared himself against text-spinning. +The Host, it is to be observed, had already charged him with +forgetting his own faults, while preaching against those of others. +The refashioner of the original lines has accordingly endeavoured to +retain the kind of tabernacle, or old woman's tone, into which he +conceives the Manciple to have fallen, compared with that of his +narrative style.--Leigh Hunt. + +{42} "We possess," says Satan in Paradise Lost, "the quarters of +the north." The old legend that Milton followed placed Satan in the +north parts of heaven, following the passage in Isaiah concerning +Babylon on which that legend was constructed (Isa. xiv. 12-15), +"Thou hast said in thine heart, I will ascend into heaven, I will +exalt my throne above the stars of God; I will sit also upon the +mount of the congregation IN THE SIDES OF THE NORTH." + +{49} Alluding to the "Millers Tale," which has rather offended the +Reve, by reason that it ridiculed a worthy carpenter.--R. H. H. + +{50} Or thus:- + For when our climbing's done our speech aspires; + E'EN IN OUR ASHES LIVE THEIR WONTED FIRES. +The original lines are:- + "For whanne we may not don than wol we speken, + Yet in our ashen olde is fyre yreken." +The coincidence of the last line with the one quoted from Gray's +Elegy will be remarked. Mr. Tyrwhit says he should certainly have +considered the latter as an "imitation" (of Chaucer), "if Mr. Gray +himself had not referred us to the 169 Sonnet of Petrarch as his +original:- + Ch' i' veggio nel pensier, dolce mio foco, + Fredda una lingua, e duo begli occhi chiusi + Rimaner dopo noi pien' di faville. +The sentiment is different in all three; but the form of expression +here adopted by Gray closely resembles that of the Father of English +Poetry, although in Gray's time it was no doubt far more elegant to +quote Petrarch than Chaucer.--R. H. Horne. + + + +{125} THE GAME OF OMBRE + + + +was invented by the Spaniards, and called by them El Hombre, or THE +MAN, El Hombre being he (or she) who undertakes the game against the +other players. + +There were variations in the way of playing, and there were +sometimes four or even five players; but usually there were three +players, as described by Pope in the third canto of The Rape of the +Lock, where Belinda played as Ombre against the Baron and another, +and the course of the game is faithfully described. It is the +purpose of this note to enable any reader of The Rape of the Lock to +learn the game of Ombre, play it, and be able to follow Pope's +description of a game. + +The game of Ombre is played with a pack of cards from which the +eights, nines, and tens of each of the four suits have been thrown +out. The Ombre pack consists, therefore, of forty cards. + +The values of cards when they are not trumps are not arranged in the +same order for each colour. + +For the two black suits, Spades and Clubs, the values, from highest +to lowest, follow the natural order--King, Queen, Knave, seven, six, +five, four, three, two. But the two black aces always rank as +trumps, and are not reckoned as parts of the black suit. The Ace of +Spades is named Spadille, the Ace of Clubs is Basto. + +For the two red suits, Hearts and Diamonds, only the King, Queen, +and Knave keep their values in natural order; the other cards have +their order of values reversed. The value from highest to lowest +for each red suit is, therefore, King, Queen, Knave, ace, two, +three, four, five, six, seven. + +The values of trump cards are thus arranged:- + +The first and best trump is the Ace of Spades, Spadille. + +The second best trump is the lowest card of the trump suit, the two +of trumps in a black suit, or the seven of trumps if the trump suit +be red. This second trump is called Manille. + +The third trump is the Ace of Clubs, Basto. + +When the trump suit is red, its Ace becomes the fourth trump. Thus +if Diamonds be trumps the Ace of Diamonds can take the King of +Diamonds; the Ace of Hearts can take the King of Hearts if Hearts be +trumps, not otherwise. There is no addition to the value of the Ace +of Diamonds when Hearts are trumps. The Ace of a red suit of +trumps, having become in this way the fourth trump in order of +value, is called Punto. + +In order of their value, counted from the highest to the lowest, I +now place in parallel columns the trumps in black suits and the +trumps in red:- + + Black. Red. +Spadille, Ace of Spades. Spadille, Ace of Spades. +Manille, the Two of the Manille, the Seven of the trump suit. + Trump suit. +Basto, Ace of Clubs. Basto, Ace of Clubs. +King. Punto, Ace of the trump suit. +Queen. King +Knave. Queen. +Seven. Knave. +Six. Two. +Five. Three. +Four. Four. +Three. Five. + Six. + + +The three chief trumps, Spadille, Manille, and Basto, are called +Matadores, and have powers which, together with their name, are +passed to the trumps following them, so far as they are found in +sequence in the Ombre's hand. Thus, although Spadille, Manille, and +Basto are strictly speaking the only Matadores, if the Ombre can +show also in his hand, say, in the red suit, Punto, King, Queen, +Knave, he takes for seven Matadores; and if there should be joined +to these the two and three, his trumps would be all in sequence, +every card would be a Matadore, and he would be paid for nine, which +is the whole number of cards in a hand. + +Counters having been distributed, among which a fish is worth ten +round counters, each player lays down a fish before the deal. The +cards having been shuffled by the dealer, and cut by the player who +sits on the left hand of the dealer, are dealt three at a time, and +first to the player who sits on the dealer's right hand, which is +contrary to the usual course. The cards are dealt three times +round. Each of the three players then has nine, and the remaining +thirteen cards are laid down at the right hand of the dealer. No +card is turned up to determine trumps. + +Each player then looks at his hand. The eldest hand is that to the +dealer's right. He speaks first. If his cards are bad, and he will +not venture to be Ombre, he says "Pass," and lays a counter down at +his left. If all three players say "Pass," each laying a counter +down, the cards are dealt again. When a player thinks his cards may +win, and is willing to be Ombre, unless he be the third to speak, +and the two other hands have passed, he says "Do you give me leave?" +or "Do you play without taking in?" If the other players say +"Pass," each depositing his counter at his own left hand, the Ombre +begins by discarding from his hand two, three, or more cards that he +thinks unserviceable. He lays them down at his left hand. Then +before he deals to himself from the pack of thirteen left +undistributed the same number of cards that he has thrown out, he +must name the trump suit. In doing this he chooses for himself, +according to his hand, spades, clubs, hearts, diamonds, whichever +suit he thinks will best help him to win. If he has a two of a +black suit, or a seven of a red, he can secure to himself Manille by +making that suit trumps, or there may be reason why another suit +should be preferred. + +If the player who proposes to be Ombre has a safe game in his hand-- +five Matadores, for example--he names the trump and elects to play +Sans-prendre, that is to say, without discarding. Whoever plays +Sans-prendre, if he win, receives three counters from each of the +other players, and pays three counters to each if he should lose the +game. + +When the Ombre plays Sans-Prendre, his opponents have more cards +from which to draw, and the first who discards is even free to +change all his nine cards; but he usually limits his discard to six +or seven, and avoids encroachment on the share of the next player. +The two who play against the Ombre are only half in the position of +partners at whist, because one of them, when his hand is strong +enough, can be the only winner. + +The hands having been thus settled, the game begins, from the hand +on the right of the dealer. After a trick has been taken, the lead, +as at other games, is with the winner of the trick, the order of +play being still from left to right. + +As at whist, a suit led must be followed, and a player who cannot +follow suit is not obliged to play a trump unless he please. + +If the first player who follows the Ombre's lead with a better card, +and has in his hand so good a game that he desires, by winning the +trick, to obtain the lead, he declares that aloud by saying Gano, +that is, "I win." His partner then lets him win, if he can. Thus, +Ombre has played a spade, which the next player wins with the Queen, +saying Gano when he does so. If the third player has the King in +his hand he refrains from playing it, unless he have no spade in his +hand of smaller value, in which case he is obliged to follow suit +and win the trick against his partner. Where the lead is urgently +desired, not for a personal gain of more tricks than the Ombre, +which is called Codille, but to defend the stake, and the third +player is seen to hesitate, Gano may be pressed for, three times, +"Gano, if possible." When Ombre was played by gambling courtiers +under Queen Anne and George I., all such words spoken in the game +had to be given strictly in the Spanish form, which was, in this +case, Yo Gano, si se puede. + +Ombre, to win the stake, must make five tricks; but he can win with +four if the other five are so divided between his antagonists that +one has only three of them, the other only two. If one of the two +defenders of the stakes, playing against Ombre, does not feel almost +sure that he can win at least three tricks, with a chance of the +fourth, he should win one, and try to avoid winning more, but help +whatever chance his partner seems to have of winning four, because +Ombre wins with four when each of the other players has won less +than four. + +If Ombre lose he is said to be Beasted. Whoever loses is said to be +Beasted. Whoever is Beasted has to pay to the board counters of the +value of what the Ombre takes up if he wins. When players were +beasted for revokes and other oversights in play, the fines were +heavy upon carelessness. + +At the end of the game tricks are counted. When Ombre wins he takes +the stakes; when he loses the two opponents will divide the stakes +between them, unless one of them should have taken more tricks than +the Ombre, in which case that one is said to have won Codille. +Whoever wins Codille takes all the stake the Ombre played for. For +this reason it was not thought creditable for any one to call Gano +who had four tricks in his hand, as by so doing he would only be +inducing the other player against Ombre to give up to him his half +of the winnings. Each player against the Ombre aims at Codille when +he thinks it within reach, but in that case it used to be held very +bad manners to win by calling Gano. When one of the players against +the Ombre must either give Codille to the other or let the Ombre +win, he gives the Codille. For if the Ombre be beasted he has to +replace the stakes. But if the Ombre wins, both of the players +against him have to stake again. If any one wins all the nine +tricks he is said to have won the Vole, and clears all stakes upon +the table. + +Belinda, in the Rape of the Lock, having looked at her hand, named +trumps - + +"'Let spades be trumps,' she said, and trumps they were." + +She chose that suit because she had not only the King but also the +two of Spades, and two of trumps, called Manille, is the second best +trump after Spadille. Her hand contained also the Ace of Spades, +"unconquerable lord" Spadille, and the third trump, Basto, Ace of +Clubs. By making spades trumps she secured the addition of Manille. +The three best trumps secured her the three best tricks. Spadille +and Manille fetched small trumps out of the hands of her +antagonists. Basto brought a trump out of the Baron's suit, that +also held the Knave and Queen of trumps, and a small card from the +other hand, which showed that it was out of trumps. Then came +Belinda's King of trumps, to win her fourth sure trick, and the +Baron, who still had his best trumps in his hand, the Knave and +Queen, lost the Knave to it. + +After this the Baron's Queen of trumps was the best card, and +Belinda, with no more trumps in her hand, or possibly the other +player, sacrificed the King of Clubs to it. + +Trumps being exhausted, and the Baron having won a trick and the +lead, it is his turn now to win three tricks in succession with the +King, Queen, and Knave of Diamonds. At the third round of the +Diamonds Belinda has left in her hand only the King and Queen of +Hearts. She gives up the Queen. + +Each has now four tricks. It is the Baron's lead. If his card be +best he has more tricks than the Ombre, and will win Codille. If +his card be a club or a diamond--spades are played out--Belinda's +King of Hearts will be unable to follow suit. He will be taken. +Thus is she "between the jaws of ruin and codille." But should his +last card be a heart--she has the best heart - + +"An Ace of Hearts steps forth: the King unseen +Lurked in her hand, and mourned his captive Queen. +He springs to vengeance with an eager pace, +And falls like thunder on the prostrate Ace. +The nymph exulting, fills with shouts the sky, +The walls, the woods, the long canals reply." + +In addition to the stakes she won, Belinda was entitled also to the +value of four counters from each of her antagonists for her sequence +of four Matadores, Spadille, Manille, Basto, and the King of Spades. +Furthermore, if she had been playing Sans-prendre, each of her +opponents would have three counters to pay her. + + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, PLAYFUL POEMS *** + +This file should be named plpm10.txt or plpm10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, plpm11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, plpm10a.txt + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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