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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/933-0.txt b/933-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2f69531 --- /dev/null +++ b/933-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4857 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, More Bab Ballads, by W. S. Gilbert + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most +other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of +the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have +to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. + + + + +Title: More Bab Ballads + + +Author: W. S. Gilbert + + + +Release Date: August 14, 2019 [eBook #933] +[This file was first posted on June 3, 1997] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MORE BAB BALLADS*** + + +Transcribed from the 1920 Macmillan and Co edition of “The Bab Ballads”, +also from “Fifty Bab Ballads” 1884 George Routledge and Sons edition by +David Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org + + [Picture: Public domain cover] + + + + + + MORE BAB BALLADS + + +CONTENTS + +THE BUMBOAT WOMAN’S STORY 214 +THE TWO OGRES 221 +LITTLE OLIVER 229 +MISTER WILLIAM 235 +PASHA BAILEY BEN 242 +LIEUTENANT-COLONEL FLARE 248 +LOST MR. BLAKE 256 +THE BABY’S VENGEANCE 265 +THE CAPTAIN AND THE MERMAIDS 273 +ANNIE PROTHEROE 280 +AN UNFORTUNATE LIKENESS 287 +GREGORY PARABLE, LL.D. 294 +THE KING OF CANOODLE-DUM 301 +FIRST LOVE 309 +BRAVE ALUM BEY 317 +SIR BARNABY BAMPTON BOO 324 +THE MODEST COUPLE 330 +THE MARTINET 338 +THE SAILOR BOY TO HIS LASS 348 +THE REVEREND SIMON MAGUS 356 +DAMON _V._ PYTHIAS 363 +MY DREAM 368 +THE BISHOP OF RUM-TI-FOO AGAIN 376 +A WORM WILL TURN 383 +THE HAUGHTY ACTOR 391 +THE TWO MAJORS 399 +EMILY, JOHN, JAMES, AND I 405 +THE PERILS OF INVISIBILITY 413 +OLD PAUL AND OLD TIM 420 +THE MYSTIC SELVAGEE 426 +THE CUNNING WOMAN 433 +PHRENOLOGY 440 +THE FAIRY CURATE 446 +THE WAY OF WOOING 454 +HONGREE AND MAHRY 460 +ETIQUETTE 541 + + + + +THE BUMBOAT WOMAN’S STORY + + + I’M old, my dears, and shrivelled with age, and work, and grief, + My eyes are gone, and my teeth have been drawn by Time, the Thief! + For terrible sights I’ve seen, and dangers great I’ve run— + I’m nearly seventy now, and my work is almost done! + + Ah! I’ve been young in my time, and I’ve played the deuce with men! + I’m speaking of ten years past—I was barely sixty then: + My cheeks were mellow and soft, and my eyes were large and sweet, + POLL PINEAPPLE’S eyes were the standing toast of the Royal Fleet! + + A bumboat woman was I, and I faithfully served the ships + With apples and cakes, and fowls, and beer, and halfpenny dips, + And beef for the generous mess, where the officers dine at nights, + And fine fresh peppermint drops for the rollicking midshipmites. + + Of all the kind commanders who anchored in Portsmouth Bay, + By far the sweetest of all was kind LIEUTENANT BELAYE.’ + LIEUTENANT BELAYE commanded the gunboat _Hot Cross Bun_, + She was seven and thirty feet in length, and she carried a gun. + + With a laudable view of enhancing his country’s naval pride, + When people inquired her size, LIEUTENANT BELAYE replied, + “Oh, my ship, my ship is the first of the Hundred and Seventy-ones!” + Which meant her tonnage, but people imagined it meant her guns. + + Whenever I went on board he would beckon me down below, + “Come down, Little Buttercup, come” (for he loved to call me so), + And he’d tell of the fights at sea in which he’d taken a part, + And so LIEUTENANT BELAYE won poor POLL PINEAPPLE’S heart! + + But at length his orders came, and he said one day, said he, + “I’m ordered to sail with the _Hot Cross Bun_ to the German Sea.” + And the Portsmouth maidens wept when they learnt the evil day, + For every Portsmouth maid loved good LIEUTENANT BELAYE. + + And I went to a back back street, with plenty of cheap cheap shops, + And I bought an oilskin hat and a second-hand suit of slops, + And I went to LIEUTENANT BELAYE (and he never suspected _me_!) + And I entered myself as a chap as wanted to go to sea. + + We sailed that afternoon at the mystic hour of one,— + Remarkably nice young men were the crew of the _Hot Cross Bun_, + I’m sorry to say that I’ve heard that sailors sometimes swear, + But I never yet heard a _Bun_ say anything wrong, I declare. + + When Jack Tars meet, they meet with a “Messmate, ho! What cheer?” + But here, on the _Hot Cross Bun_, it was “How do you do, my dear?” + When Jack Tars growl, I believe they growl with a big big D— + But the strongest oath of the _Hot Cross Buns_ was a mild “Dear me!” + + Yet, though they were all well-bred, you could scarcely call them + slick: + Whenever a sea was on, they were all extremely sick; + And whenever the weather was calm, and the wind was light and fair, + They spent more time than a sailor should on his back back hair. + + They certainly shivered and shook when ordered aloft to run, + And they screamed when LIEUTENANT BELAYE discharged his only gun. + And as he was proud of his gun—such pride is hardly wrong— + The Lieutenant was blazing away at intervals all day long. + + They all agreed very well, though at times you heard it said + That BILL had a way of his own of making his lips look red— + That JOE looked quite his age—or somebody might declare + That BARNACLE’S long pig-tail was never his own own hair. + + BELAYE would admit that his men were of no great use to him, + “But, then,” he would say, “there is little to do on a gunboat trim + I can hand, and reef, and steer, and fire my big gun too— + And it _is_ such a treat to sail with a gentle well-bred crew.” + + I saw him every day. How the happy moments sped! + Reef topsails! Make all taut! There’s dirty weather ahead! + (I do not mean that tempests threatened the _Hot Cross Bun_: + In _that_ case, I don’t know whatever we _should_ have done!) + + After a fortnight’s cruise, we put into port one day, + And off on leave for a week went kind LIEUTENANT BELAYE, + And after a long long week had passed (and it seemed like a life), + LIEUTENANT BELAYE returned to his ship with a fair young wife! + + He up, and he says, says he, “O crew of the _Hot Cross Bun_, + Here is the wife of my heart, for the Church has made us one!” + And as he uttered the word, the crew went out of their wits, + And all fell down in so many separate fainting-fits. + + And then their hair came down, or off, as the case might be, + And lo! the rest of the crew were simple girls, like me, + Who all had fled from their homes in a sailor’s blue array, + To follow the shifting fate of kind LIEUTENANT BELAYE. + + It’s strange to think that _I_ should ever have loved young men, + But I’m speaking of ten years past—I was barely sixty then, + And now my cheeks are furrowed with grief and age, I trow! + And poor POLL PINEAPPLE’S eyes have lost their lustre now! + + + + +THE TWO OGRES + + + GOOD children, list, if you’re inclined, + And wicked children too— + This pretty ballad is designed + Especially for you. + + Two ogres dwelt in Wickham Wold— + Each _traits_ distinctive had: + The younger was as good as gold, + The elder was as bad. + + A wicked, disobedient son + Was JAMES M’ALPINE, and + A contrast to the elder one, + Good APPLEBODY BLAND. + + M’ALPINE—brutes like him are few— + In greediness delights, + A melancholy victim to + Unchastened appetites. + + Good, well-bred children every day + He ravenously ate,— + All boys were fish who found their way + Into M’ALPINE’S net: + + Boys whose good breeding is innate, + Whose sums are always right; + And boys who don’t expostulate + When sent to bed at night; + + And kindly boys who never search + The nests of birds of song; + And serious boys for whom, in church, + No sermon is too long. + + Contrast with JAMES’S greedy haste + And comprehensive hand, + The nice discriminating taste + Of APPLEBODY BLAND. + + BLAND only eats bad boys, who swear— + Who _can_ behave, but _don’t_— + Disgraceful lads who say “don’t care,” + And “shan’t,” and “can’t,” and “won’t.” + + Who wet their shoes and learn to box, + And say what isn’t true, + Who bite their nails and jam their frocks, + And make long noses too; + + Who kick a nurse’s aged shin, + And sit in sulky mopes; + And boys who twirl poor kittens in + Distracting zoëtropes. + + But JAMES, when he was quite a youth, + Had often been to school, + And though so bad, to tell the truth, + He wasn’t quite a fool. + + At logic few with him could vie; + To his peculiar sect + He could propose a fallacy + With singular effect. + + So, when his Mentors said, “Expound— + Why eat good children—why?” + Upon his Mentors he would round + With this absurd reply: + + “I have been taught to love the good— + The pure—the unalloyed— + And wicked boys, I’ve understood, + I always should avoid. + + “Why do I eat good children—why? + Because I love them so!” + (But this was empty sophistry, + As your Papa can show.) + + Now, though the learning of his friends + Was truly not immense, + They had a way of fitting ends + By rule of common sense. + + “Away, away!” his Mentors cried, + “Thou uncongenial pest! + A quirk’s a thing we can’t abide, + A quibble we detest! + + “A fallacy in your reply + Our intellect descries, + Although we don’t pretend to spy + Exactly where it lies. + + “In misery and penal woes + Must end a glutton’s joys; + And learn how ogres punish those + Who dare to eat good boys. + + “Secured by fetter, cramp, and chain, + And gagged securely—so— + You shall be placed in Drury Lane, + Where only good lads go. + + “Surrounded there by virtuous boys, + You’ll suffer torture wus + Than that which constantly annoys + Disgraceful TANTALUS. + + (“If you would learn the woes that vex + Poor TANTALUS, down there, + Pray borrow of Papa an ex- + Purgated LEMPRIERE.) + + “But as for BLAND who, as it seems, + Eats only naughty boys, + We’ve planned a recompense that teems + With gastronomic joys. + + “Where wicked youths in crowds are stowed + He shall unquestioned rule, + And have the run of Hackney Road + Reformatory School!” + + + + +LITTLE OLIVER + + + EARL JOYCE he was a kind old party + Whom nothing ever could put out, + Though eighty-two, he still was hearty, + Excepting as regarded gout. + + He had one unexampled daughter, + The LADY MINNIE-HAHA JOYCE, + Fair MINNIE-HAHA, “Laughing Water,” + So called from her melodious voice. + + By Nature planned for lover-capture, + Her beauty every heart assailed; + The good old nobleman with rapture + Observed how widely she prevailed + + Aloof from all the lordly flockings + Of titled swells who worshipped her, + There stood, in pumps and cotton stockings, + One humble lover—OLIVER. + + He was no peer by Fortune petted, + His name recalled no bygone age; + He was no lordling coronetted— + Alas! he was a simple page! + + With vain appeals he never bored her, + But stood in silent sorrow by— + He knew how fondly he adored her, + And knew, alas! how hopelessly! + + Well grounded by a village tutor + In languages alive and past, + He’d say unto himself, “Knee-suitor, + Oh, do not go beyond your last!” + + But though his name could boast no handle, + He could not every hope resign; + As moths will hover round a candle, + So hovered he about her shrine. + + The brilliant candle dazed the moth well: + One day she sang to her Papa + The air that MARIE sings with BOTHWELL + In NEIDERMEYER’S opera. + + (Therein a stable boy, it’s stated, + Devoutly loved a noble dame, + Who ardently reciprocated + His rather injudicious flame.) + + And then, before the piano closing + (He listened coyly at the door), + She sang a song of her composing— + I give one verse from half a score: + + + +BALLAD + + + _Why_, _pretty page_, _art ever sighing_? + _Is sorrow in thy heartlet lying_? + _Come_, _set a-ringing_ + _Thy laugh entrancing_, + _And ever singing_ + _And ever dancing_. + _Ever singing_, _Tra_! _la_! _la_! + _Ever dancing_, _Tra_! _la_! _la_! + _Ever singing_, _ever dancing_, + _Ever singing_, _Tra_! _la_! _la_! + + He skipped for joy like little muttons, + He danced like Esmeralda’s kid. + (She did not mean a boy in buttons, + Although he fancied that she did.) + + Poor lad! convinced he thus would win her, + He wore out many pairs of soles; + He danced when taking down the dinner— + He danced when bringing up the coals. + + He danced and sang (however laden) + With his incessant “Tra! la! la!” + Which much surprised the noble maiden, + And puzzled even her Papa. + + He nourished now his flame and fanned it, + He even danced at work below. + The upper servants wouldn’t stand it, + And BOWLES the butler told him so. + + At length on impulse acting blindly, + His love he laid completely bare; + The gentle Earl received him kindly + And told the lad to take a chair. + + “Oh, sir,” the suitor uttered sadly, + “Don’t give your indignation vent; + I fear you think I’m acting madly, + Perhaps you think me insolent?” + + The kindly Earl repelled the notion; + His noble bosom heaved a sigh, + His fingers trembled with emotion, + A tear stood in his mild blue eye: + + For, oh! the scene recalled too plainly + The half-forgotten time when he, + A boy of nine, had worshipped vainly + A governess of forty-three! + + “My boy,” he said, in tone consoling, + “Give up this idle fancy—do— + The song you heard my daughter trolling + Did not, indeed, refer to you. + + “I feel for you, poor boy, acutely; + I would not wish to give you pain; + Your pangs I estimate minutely,— + I, too, have loved, and loved in vain. + + “But still your humble rank and station + For MINNIE surely are not meet”— + He said much more in conversation + Which it were needless to repeat. + + Now I’m prepared to bet a guinea, + Were this a mere dramatic case, + The page would have eloped with MINNIE, + But, no—he only left his place. + + The simple Truth is my detective, + With me Sensation can’t abide; + The Likely beats the mere Effective, + And Nature is my only guide. + + + + +MISTER WILLIAM + + + OH, listen to the tale of MISTER WILLIAM, if you please, + Whom naughty, naughty judges sent away beyond the seas. + He forged a party’s will, which caused anxiety and strife, + Resulting in his getting penal servitude for life. + + He was a kindly goodly man, and naturally prone, + Instead of taking others’ gold, to give away his own. + But he had heard of Vice, and longed for only once to strike— + To plan _one_ little wickedness—to see what it was like. + + He argued with himself, and said, “A spotless man am I; + I can’t be more respectable, however hard I try! + For six and thirty years I’ve always been as good as gold, + And now for half an hour I’ll plan infamy untold! + + “A baby who is wicked at the early age of one, + And then reforms—and dies at thirty-six a spotless son, + Is never, never saddled with his babyhood’s defect, + But earns from worthy men consideration and respect. + + “So one who never revelled in discreditable tricks + Until he reached the comfortable age of thirty-six, + May then for half an hour perpetrate a deed of shame, + Without incurring permanent disgrace, or even blame. + + “That babies don’t commit such crimes as forgery is true, + But little sins develop, if you leave ’em to accrue; + And he who shuns all vices as successive seasons roll, + Should reap at length the benefit of so much self-control. + + “The common sin of babyhood—objecting to be drest— + If you leave it to accumulate at compound interest, + For anything you know, may represent, if you’re alive, + A burglary or murder at the age of thirty-five. + + “Still, I wouldn’t take advantage of this fact, but be content + With some pardonable folly—it’s a mere experiment. + The greater the temptation to go wrong, the less the sin; + So with something that’s particularly tempting I’ll begin. + + “I would not steal a penny, for my income’s very fair— + I do not want a penny—I have pennies and to spare— + And if I stole a penny from a money-bag or till, + The sin would be enormous—the temptation being _nil_. + + “But if I broke asunder all such pettifogging bounds, + And forged a party’s Will for (say) Five Hundred Thousand Pounds, + With such an irresistible temptation to a haul, + Of course the sin must be infinitesimally small. + + “There’s WILSON who is dying—he has wealth from Stock and rent— + If I divert his riches from their natural descent, + I’m placed in a position to indulge each little whim.” + So he diverted them—and they, in turn, diverted him. + + Unfortunately, though, by some unpardonable flaw, + Temptation isn’t recognized by Britain’s Common Law; + Men found him out by some peculiarity of touch, + And WILLIAM got a “lifer,” which annoyed him very much. + + For, ah! he never reconciled himself to life in gaol, + He fretted and he pined, and grew dispirited and pale; + He was numbered like a cabman, too, which told upon him so + That his spirits, once so buoyant, grew uncomfortably low. + + And sympathetic gaolers would remark, “It’s very true, + He ain’t been brought up common, like the likes of me and you.” + So they took him into hospital, and gave him mutton chops, + And chocolate, and arrowroot, and buns, and malt and hops. + + Kind Clergymen, besides, grew interested in his fate, + Affected by the details of his pitiable state. + They waited on the Secretary, somewhere in Whitehall, + Who said he would receive them any day they liked to call. + + “Consider, sir, the hardship of this interesting case: + A prison life brings with it something very like disgrace; + It’s telling on young WILLIAM, who’s reduced to skin and bone— + Remember he’s a gentleman, with money of his own. + + “He had an ample income, and of course he stands in need + Of sherry with his dinner, and his customary weed; + No delicacies now can pass his gentlemanly lips— + He misses his sea-bathing and his continental trips. + + “He says the other prisoners are commonplace and rude; + He says he cannot relish uncongenial prison food. + When quite a boy they taught him to distinguish Good from Bad, + And other educational advantages he’s had. + + “A burglar or garotter, or, indeed, a common thief + Is very glad to batten on potatoes and on beef, + Or anything, in short, that prison kitchens can afford,— + A cut above the diet in a common workhouse ward. + + “But beef and mutton-broth don’t seem to suit our WILLIAM’S whim, + A boon to other prisoners—a punishment to him. + It never was intended that the discipline of gaol + Should dash a convict’s spirits, sir, or make him thin or pale.” + + “Good Gracious Me!” that sympathetic Secretary cried, + “Suppose in prison fetters MISTER WILLIAM should have died! + Dear me, of course! Imprisonment for _Life_ his sentence saith: + I’m very glad you mentioned it—it might have been For Death! + + “Release him with a ticket—he’ll be better then, no doubt, + And tell him I apologize.” So MISTER WILLIAM’S out. + I hope he will be careful in his manuscripts, I’m sure, + And not begin experimentalizing any more. + + + + +PASHA BAILEY BEN + + + A PROUD Pasha was BAILEY BEN, + His wives were three, his tails were ten; + His form was dignified, but stout, + Men called him “Little Roundabout.” + + _His Importance_ + + Pale Pilgrims came from o’er the sea + To wait on PASHA BAILEY B., + All bearing presents in a crowd, + For B. was poor as well as proud. + + _His Presents_ + + They brought him onions strung on ropes, + And cold boiled beef, and telescopes, + And balls of string, and shrimps, and guns, + And chops, and tacks, and hats, and buns. + + _More of them_ + + They brought him white kid gloves, and pails, + And candlesticks, and potted quails, + And capstan-bars, and scales and weights, + And ornaments for empty grates. + + _Why I mention these_ + + My tale is not of these—oh no! + I only mention them to show + The divers gifts that divers men + Brought o’er the sea to BAILEY BEN. + + _His Confidant_ + + A confidant had BAILEY B., + A gay Mongolian dog was he; + I am not good at Turkish names, + And so I call him SIMPLE JAMES. + + _His Confidant’s Countenance_ + + A dreadful legend you might trace + In SIMPLE JAMES’S honest face, + For there you read, in Nature’s print, + “A Scoundrel of the Deepest Tint.” + + _His Character_ + + A deed of blood, or fire, or flames, + Was meat and drink to SIMPLE JAMES: + To hide his guilt he did not plan, + But owned himself a bad young man. + + _The Author to his Reader_ + + And why on earth good BAILEY BEN + (The wisest, noblest, best of men) + Made SIMPLE JAMES his right-hand man + Is quite beyond my mental span. + + _The same_, _continued_ + + But there—enough of gruesome deeds! + My heart, in thinking of them, bleeds; + And so let SIMPLE JAMES take wing,— + ’Tis not of him I’m going to sing. + + _The Pasha’s Clerk_ + + Good PASHA BAILEY kept a clerk + (For BAILEY only made his mark), + His name was MATTHEW WYCOMBE COO, + A man of nearly forty-two. + + _His Accomplishments_ + + No person that I ever knew + Could “yödel” half as well as COO, + And Highlanders exclaimed, “Eh, weel!” + When COO began to dance a reel. + + _His Kindness to the Pasha’s Wives_ + + He used to dance and sing and play + In such an unaffected way, + He cheered the unexciting lives + Of PASHA BAILEY’S lovely wives. + + _The Author to his Reader_ + + But why should I encumber you + With histories of MATTHEW COO? + Let MATTHEW COO at once take wing,— + ’Tis not of COO I’m going to sing. + + _The Author’s Muse_ + + Let me recall my wandering Muse; + She _shall_ be steady if I choose— + She roves, instead of helping me + To tell the deeds of BAILEY B. + + _The Pasha’s Visitor_ + + One morning knocked, at half-past eight, + A tall Red Indian at his gate. + In Turkey, as you’re p’raps aware, + Red Indians are extremely rare. + + _The Visitor’s Outfit_ + + Mocassins decked his graceful legs, + His eyes were black, and round as eggs, + And on his neck, instead of beads, + Hung several Catawampous seeds. + + _What the Visitor said_ + + “Ho, ho!” he said, “thou pale-faced one, + Poor offspring of an Eastern sun, + You’ve _never_ seen the Red Man skip + Upon the banks of Mississip!” + + _The Author’s Moderation_ + + To say that BAILEY oped his eyes + Would feebly paint his great surprise— + To say it almost made him die + Would be to paint it much too high. + + _The Author to his Reader_ + + But why should I ransack my head + To tell you all that Indian said; + We’ll let the Indian man take wing,— + ’Tis not of him I’m going to sing. + + _The Reader to the Author_ + + Come, come, I say, that’s quite enough + Of this absurd disjointed stuff; + Now let’s get on to that affair + About LIEUTENANT-COLONEL FLARE. + + + + +LIEUTENANT-COLONEL FLARE + + + THE earth has armies plenty, + And semi-warlike bands, + I dare say there are twenty + In European lands; + But, oh! in no direction + You’d find one to compare + In brotherly affection + With that of COLONEL FLARE. + + His soldiers might be rated + As military Pearls. + As unsophisticated + As pretty little girls! + They never smoked or ratted, + Or talked of Sues or Polls; + The Sergeant-Major tatted, + The others nursed their dolls. + + He spent his days in teaching + These truly solemn facts; + There’s little use in preaching, + Or circulating tracts. + (The vainest plan invented + For stifling other creeds, + Unless it’s supplemented + With charitable _deeds_.) + + He taught his soldiers kindly + To give at Hunger’s call: + “Oh, better far give blindly, + Than never give at all! + Though sympathy be kindled + By Imposition’s game, + Oh, better far be swindled + Than smother up its flame!” + + His means were far from ample + For pleasure or for dress, + Yet note this bright example + Of single-heartedness: + Though ranking as a Colonel, + His pay was but a groat, + While their reward diurnal + Was—each a five-pound note. + + Moreover,—this evinces + His kindness, you’ll allow,— + He fed them all like princes, + And lived himself on cow. + He set them all regaling + On curious wines, and dear, + While he would sit pale-ale-ing, + Or quaffing ginger-beer. + + Then at his instigation + (A pretty fancy this) + Their daily pay and ration + He’d take in change for his; + They brought it to him weekly, + And he without a groan, + Would take it from them meekly + And give them all his own! + + Though not exactly knighted + As knights, of course, should be, + Yet no one so delighted + In harmless chivalry. + If peasant girl or ladye + Beneath misfortunes sank, + Whate’er distinctions made he, + They were not those of rank. + + No maiden young and comely + Who wanted good advice + (However poor or homely) + Need ask him for it twice. + He’d wipe away the blindness + That comes of teary dew; + His sympathetic kindness + No sort of limit knew. + + He always hated dealing + With men who schemed or planned; + A person harsh—unfeeling— + The Colonel could not stand. + He hated cold, suspecting, + Official men in blue, + Who pass their lives detecting + The crimes that others do. + + For men who’d shoot a sparrow, + Or immolate a worm + Beneath a farmer’s harrow, + He could not find a term. + Humanely, ay, and knightly + He dealt with such an one; + He took and tied him tightly, + And blew him from a gun. + + The earth has armies plenty, + And semi-warlike bands, + I’m certain there are twenty + In European lands; + But, oh! in no direction + You’d find one to compare + In brotherly affection + With that of COLONEL FLARE. + + + + +LOST MR. BLAKE + + + MR. BLAKE was a regular out-and-out hardened sinner, + Who was quite out of the pale of Christianity, so to speak, + He was in the habit of smoking a long pipe and drinking a glass of + grog on a Sunday after dinner, + And seldom thought of going to church more than twice or—if Good + Friday or Christmas Day happened to come in it—three times a week. + + He was quite indifferent as to the particular kinds of dresses + That the clergyman wore at church where he used to go to pray, + And whatever he did in the way of relieving a chap’s distresses, + He always did in a nasty, sneaking, underhanded, hole-and-corner + sort of way. + + I have known him indulge in profane, ungentlemanly emphatics, + When the Protestant Church has been divided on the subject of the + proper width of a chasuble’s hem; + I have even known him to sneer at albs—and as for dalmatics, + Words can’t convey an idea of the contempt he expressed for _them_. + + He didn’t believe in persons who, not being well off themselves, are + obliged to confine their charitable exertions to collecting money from + wealthier people, + And looked upon individuals of the former class as ecclesiastical + hawks; + He used to say that he would no more think of interfering with his + priest’s robes than with his church or his steeple, + And that he did not consider his soul imperilled because somebody + over whom he had no influence whatever, chose to dress himself up like + an exaggerated GUY FAWKES. + + This shocking old vagabond was so unutterably shameless + That he actually went a-courting a very respectable and pious + middle-aged sister, by the name of BIGGS. + She was a rather attractive widow, whose life as such had always been + particularly blameless; + Her first husband had left her a secure but moderate competence, + owing to some fortunate speculations in the matter of figs. + + She was an excellent person in every way—and won the respect even of + MRS. GRUNDY, + She was a good housewife, too, and wouldn’t have wasted a penny if + she had owned the Koh-i-noor. + She was just as strict as he was lax in her observance of Sunday, + And being a good economist, and charitable besides, she took all + the bones and cold potatoes and broken pie-crusts and candle-ends + (when she had quite done with them), and made them into an excellent + soup for the deserving poor. + + I am sorry to say that she rather took to BLAKE—that outcast of + society, + And when respectable brothers who were fond of her began to look + dubious and to cough, + She would say, “Oh, my friends, it’s because I hope to bring this poor + benighted soul back to virtue and propriety,” + And besides, the poor benighted soul, with all his faults, was + uncommonly well off. + + And when MR. BLAKE’S dissipated friends called his attention to the + frown or the pout of her, + Whenever he did anything which appeared to her to savour of an + unmentionable place, + He would say that “she would be a very decent old girl when all that + nonsense was knocked out of her,” + And his method of knocking it out of her is one that covered him + with disgrace. + + She was fond of going to church services four times every Sunday, and, + four or five times in the week, and never seemed to pall of them, + So he hunted out all the churches within a convenient distance that + had services at different hours, so to speak; + And when he had married her he positively insisted upon their going to + all of them, + So they contrived to do about twelve churches every Sunday, and, if + they had luck, from twenty-two to twenty-three in the course of the + week. + + She was fond of dropping his sovereigns ostentatiously into the plate, + and she liked to see them stand out rather conspicuously against the + commonplace half-crowns and shillings, + So he took her to all the charity sermons, and if by any + extraordinary chance there wasn’t a charity sermon anywhere, he would + drop a couple of sovereigns (one for him and one for her) into the + poor-box at the door; + And as he always deducted the sums thus given in charity from the + housekeeping money, and the money he allowed her for her bonnets and + frillings, + She soon began to find that even charity, if you allow it to + interfere with your personal luxuries, becomes an intolerable bore. + + On Sundays she was always melancholy and anything but good society, + For that day in her household was a day of sighings and sobbings + and wringing of hands and shaking of heads: + She wouldn’t hear of a button being sewn on a glove, because it was a + work neither of necessity nor of piety, + And strictly prohibited her servants from amusing themselves, or + indeed doing anything at all except dusting the drawing-rooms, + cleaning the boots and shoes, cooking the parlour dinner, waiting + generally on the family, and making the beds. + + But BLAKE even went further than that, and said that people should do + their own works of necessity, and not delegate them to persons in a + menial situation, + So he wouldn’t allow his servants to do so much as even answer a + bell. + Here he is making his wife carry up the water for her bath to the + second floor, much against her inclination,— + And why in the world the gentleman who illustrates these ballads + has put him in a cocked hat is more than I can tell. + + After about three months of this sort of thing, taking the smooth with + the rough of it, + (Blacking her own boots and peeling her own potatoes was not her + notion of connubial bliss), + MRS. BLAKE began to find that she had pretty nearly had enough of it, + And came, in course of time, to think that BLAKE’S own original + line of conduct wasn’t so much amiss. + + And now that wicked person—that detestable sinner (“BELIAL BLAKE” his + friends and well-wishers call him for his atrocities), + And his poor deluded victim, whom all her Christian brothers + dislike and pity so, + Go to the parish church only on Sunday morning and afternoon and + occasionally on a week-day, and spend their evenings in connubial + fondlings and affectionate reciprocities, + And I should like to know where in the world (or rather, out of it) + they expect to go! + + + + +THE BABY’S VENGEANCE + + + WEARY at heart and extremely ill + Was PALEY VOLLAIRE of Bromptonville, + In a dirty lodging, with fever down, + Close to the Polygon, Somers Town. + + PALEY VOLLAIRE was an only son + (For why? His mother had had but one), + And PALEY inherited gold and grounds + Worth several hundred thousand pounds. + + But he, like many a rich young man, + Through this magnificent fortune ran, + And nothing was left for his daily needs + But duplicate copies of mortgage-deeds. + + Shabby and sorry and sorely sick, + He slept, and dreamt that the clock’s “tick, tick,” + Was one of the Fates, with a long sharp knife, + Snicking off bits of his shortened life. + + He woke and counted the pips on the walls, + The outdoor passengers’ loud footfalls, + And reckoned all over, and reckoned again, + The little white tufts on his counterpane. + + A medical man to his bedside came. + (I can’t remember that doctor’s name), + And said, “You’ll die in a very short while + If you don’t set sail for Madeira’s isle.” + + “Go to Madeira? goodness me! + I haven’t the money to pay your fee!” + “Then, PALEY VOLLAIRE,” said the leech, “good bye; + I’ll come no more, for you’re sure to die.” + + He sighed and he groaned and smote his breast; + “Oh, send,” said he, “for FREDERICK WEST, + Ere senses fade or my eyes grow dim: + I’ve a terrible tale to whisper him!” + + Poor was FREDERICK’S lot in life,— + A dustman he with a fair young wife, + A worthy man with a hard-earned store, + A hundred and seventy pounds—or more. + + FREDERICK came, and he said, “Maybe + You’ll say what you happened to want with me?” + “Wronged boy,” said PALEY VOLLAIRE, “I will, + But don’t you fidget yourself—sit still.” + + * * * * * + + “’Tis now some thirty-seven years ago + Since first began the plot that I’m revealing, + A fine young woman, whom you ought to know, + Lived with her husband down in Drum Lane, Ealing. + Herself by means of mangling reimbursing, + And now and then (at intervals) wet-nursing. + + “Two little babes dwelt in their humble cot: + One was her own—the other only lent to her: + _Her own she slighted_. Tempted by a lot + Of gold and silver regularly sent to her, + She ministered unto the little other + In the capacity of foster-mother. + + “_I was her own_. Oh! how I lay and sobbed + In my poor cradle—deeply, deeply cursing + The rich man’s pampered bantling, who had robbed + My only birthright—an attentive nursing! + Sometimes in hatred of my foster-brother, + I gnashed my gums—which terrified my mother. + + “One day—it was quite early in the week— + I _in_ MY _cradle having placed the bantling_— + Crept into his! He had not learnt to speak, + But I could see his face with anger mantling. + It was imprudent—well, disgraceful maybe, + For, oh! I was a bad, black-hearted baby! + + “So great a luxury was food, I think + No wickedness but I was game to try for it. + _Now_ if I wanted anything to drink + At any time, I only had to cry for it! + _Once_, if I dared to weep, the bottle lacking, + My blubbering involved a serious smacking! + + “We grew up in the usual way—my friend, + My foster-brother, daily growing thinner, + While gradually I began to mend, + And thrived amazingly on double dinner. + And every one, besides my foster-mother, + Believed that either of us was the other. + + “I came into _his_ wealth—I bore _his_ name, + I bear it still—_his_ property I squandered— + I mortgaged everything—and now (oh, shame!) + Into a Somers Town shake-down I’ve wandered! + I am no PALEY—no, VOLLAIRE—it’s true, my boy! + The only rightful PALEY V. is _you_, my boy! + + “And all I have is yours—and yours is mine. + I still may place you in your true position: + Give me the pounds you’ve saved, and I’ll resign + My noble name, my rank, and my condition. + So far my wickedness in falsely owning + Your vasty wealth, I am at last atoning!” + + * * * * * * * + + FREDERICK he was a simple soul, + He pulled from his pocket a bulky roll, + And gave to PALEY his hard-earned store, + A hundred and seventy pounds or more. + + PALEY VOLLAIRE, with many a groan, + Gave FREDERICK all that he called his own,— + Two shirts and a sock, and a vest of jean, + A Wellington boot and a bamboo cane. + + And FRED (entitled to all things there) + He took the fever from MR. VOLLAIRE, + Which killed poor FREDERICK WEST. Meanwhile + VOLLAIRE sailed off to Madeira’s isle. + + + + +THE CAPTAIN AND THE MERMAIDS + + + I SING a legend of the sea, + So hard-a-port upon your lee! + A ship on starboard tack! + She’s bound upon a private cruise— + (This is the kind of spice I use + To give a salt-sea smack). + + Behold, on every afternoon + (Save in a gale or strong Monsoon) + Great CAPTAIN CAPEL CLEGGS + (Great morally, though rather short) + Sat at an open weather-port + And aired his shapely legs. + + And Mermaids hung around in flocks, + On cable chains and distant rocks, + To gaze upon those limbs; + For legs like those, of flesh and bone, + Are things “not generally known” + To any Merman TIMBS. + + But Mermen didn’t seem to care + Much time (as far as I’m aware) + With CLEGGS’S legs to spend; + Though Mermaids swam around all day + And gazed, exclaiming, “_That’s_ the way + A gentleman should end! + + “A pair of legs with well-cut knees, + And calves and ankles such as these + Which we in rapture hail, + Are far more eloquent, it’s clear + (When clothed in silk and kerseymere), + Than any nasty tail.” + + And CLEGGS—a worthy kind old boy— + Rejoiced to add to others’ joy, + And, when the day was dry, + Because it pleased the lookers-on, + He sat from morn till night—though con- + Stitutionally shy. + + At first the Mermen laughed, “Pooh! pooh!” + But finally they jealous grew, + And sounded loud recalls; + But vainly. So these fishy males + Declared they too would clothe their tails + In silken hose and smalls. + + They set to work, these water-men, + And made their nether robes—but when + They drew with dainty touch + The kerseymere upon their tails, + They found it scraped against their scales, + And hurt them very much. + + The silk, besides, with which they chose + To deck their tails by way of hose + (They never thought of shoon), + For such a use was much too thin,— + It tore against the caudal fin, + And “went in ladders” soon. + + So they designed another plan: + They sent their most seductive man + This note to him to show— + “Our Monarch sends to CAPTAIN CLEGGS + His humble compliments, and begs + He’ll join him down below; + + “We’ve pleasant homes below the sea— + Besides, if CAPTAIN CLEGGS should be + (As our advices say) + A judge of Mermaids, he will find + Our lady-fish of every kind + Inspection will repay.” + + Good CAPEL sent a kind reply, + For CAPEL thought he could descry + An admirable plan + To study all their ways and laws— + (But not their lady-fish, because + He was a married man). + + The Merman sank—the Captain too + Jumped overboard, and dropped from view + Like stone from catapult; + And when he reached the Merman’s lair, + He certainly was welcomed there, + But, ah! with what result? + + They didn’t let him learn their law, + Or make a note of what he saw, + Or interesting mem.: + The lady-fish he couldn’t find, + But that, of course, he didn’t mind— + He didn’t come for them. + + For though, when CAPTAIN CAPEL sank, + The Mermen drawn in double rank + Gave him a hearty hail, + Yet when secure of CAPTAIN CLEGGS, + They cut off both his lovely legs, + And gave him _such_ a tail! + + When CAPTAIN CLEGGS returned aboard, + His blithesome crew convulsive roar’d, + To see him altered so. + The Admiralty did insist + That he upon the Half-pay List + Immediately should go. + + In vain declared the poor old salt, + “It’s my misfortune—not my fault,” + With tear and trembling lip— + In vain poor CAPEL begged and begged. + “A man must be completely legged + Who rules a British ship.” + + So spake the stern First Lord aloud— + He was a wag, though very proud, + And much rejoiced to say, + “You’re only half a captain now— + And so, my worthy friend, I vow + You’ll only get half-pay!” + + + + +ANNIE PROTHEROE + + + A LEGEND OF STRATFORD-LE-BOW + + OH! listen to the tale of little ANNIE PROTHEROE. + She kept a small post-office in the neighbourhood of BOW; + She loved a skilled mechanic, who was famous in his day— + A gentle executioner whose name was GILBERT CLAY. + + I think I hear you say, “A dreadful subject for your rhymes!” + O reader, do not shrink—he didn’t live in modern times! + He lived so long ago (the sketch will show it at a glance) + That all his actions glitter with the lime-light of Romance. + + In busy times he laboured at his gentle craft all day— + “No doubt you mean his Cal-craft,” you amusingly will say— + But, no—he didn’t operate with common bits of string, + He was a Public Headsman, which is quite another thing. + + And when his work was over, they would ramble o’er the lea, + And sit beneath the frondage of an elderberry tree, + And ANNIE’S simple prattle entertained him on his walk, + For public executions formed the subject of her talk. + + And sometimes he’d explain to her, which charmed her very much, + How famous operators vary very much in touch, + And then, perhaps, he’d show how he himself performed the trick, + And illustrate his meaning with a poppy and a stick. + + Or, if it rained, the little maid would stop at home, and look + At his favourable notices, all pasted in a book, + And then her cheek would flush—her swimming eyes would dance with joy + In a glow of admiration at the prowess of her boy. + + One summer eve, at supper-time, the gentle GILBERT said + (As he helped his pretty ANNIE to a slice of collared head), + “This reminds me I must settle on the next ensuing day + The hash of that unmitigated villain PETER GRAY.” + + He saw his ANNIE tremble and he saw his ANNIE start, + Her changing colour trumpeted the flutter at her heart; + Young GILBERT’S manly bosom rose and sank with jealous fear, + And he said, “O gentle ANNIE, what’s the meaning of this here?” + + And ANNIE answered, blushing in an interesting way, + “You think, no doubt, I’m sighing for that felon PETER GRAY: + That I was his young woman is unquestionably true, + But not since I began a-keeping company with you.” + + Then GILBERT, who was irritable, rose and loudly swore + He’d know the reason why if she refused to tell him more; + And she answered (all the woman in her flashing from her eyes) + “You mustn’t ask no questions, and you won’t be told no lies! + + “Few lovers have the privilege enjoyed, my dear, by you, + Of chopping off a rival’s head and quartering him too! + Of vengeance, dear, to-morrow you will surely take your fill!” + And GILBERT ground his molars as he answered her, “I will!” + + Young GILBERT rose from table with a stern determined look, + And, frowning, took an inexpensive hatchet from its hook; + And ANNIE watched his movements with an interested air— + For the morrow—for the morrow he was going to prepare! + + He chipped it with a hammer and he chopped it with a bill, + He poured sulphuric acid on the edge of it, until + This terrible Avenger of the Majesty of Law + Was far less like a hatchet than a dissipated saw. + + And ANNIE said, “O GILBERT, dear, I do not understand + Why ever you are injuring that hatchet in your hand?” + He said, “It is intended for to lacerate and flay + The neck of that unmitigated villain PETER GRAY!” + + “Now, GILBERT,” ANNIE answered, “wicked headsman, just beware— + I won’t have PETER tortured with that horrible affair; + If you appear with that, you may depend you’ll rue the day.” + But GILBERT said, “Oh, shall I?” which was just his nasty way. + + He saw a look of anger from her eyes distinctly dart, + For ANNIE was a _woman_, and had pity in her heart! + She wished him a good evening—he answered with a glare; + She only said, “Remember, for your ANNIE will be there!” + + * * * * * * * * + + The morrow GILBERT boldly on the scaffold took his stand, + With a vizor on his face and with a hatchet in his hand, + And all the people noticed that the Engine of the Law + Was far less like a hatchet than a dissipated saw. + + The felon very coolly loosed his collar and his stock, + And placed his wicked head upon the handy little block. + The hatchet was uplifted for to settle PETER GRAY, + When GILBERT plainly heard a woman’s voice exclaiming, “Stay!” + + ’Twas ANNIE, gentle ANNIE, as you’ll easily believe. + “O GILBERT, you must spare him, for I bring him a reprieve, + It came from our Home Secretary many weeks ago, + And passed through that post-office which I used to keep at Bow. + + “I loved you, loved you madly, and you know it, GILBERT CLAY, + And as I’d quite surrendered all idea of PETER GRAY, + I quietly suppressed it, as you’ll clearly understand, + For I thought it might be awkward if he came and claimed my hand. + + “In anger at my secret (which I could not tell before), + To lacerate poor PETER GRAY vindictively you swore; + I told you if you used that blunted axe you’d rue the day, + And so you will, young GILBERT, for I’ll marry PETER GRAY!” + + [_And so she did_. + + + + +AN UNFORTUNATE LIKENESS + + + I’VE painted SHAKESPEARE all my life— + “An infant” (even then at “play”!) + “A boy,” with stage-ambition rife, + Then “Married to ANN HATHAWAY.” + + “The bard’s first ticket night” (or “ben.”), + His “First appearance on the stage,” + His “Call before the curtain”—then + “Rejoicings when he came of age.” + + The bard play-writing in his room, + The bard a humble lawyer’s clerk. + The bard a lawyer {287a}—parson {287b}—groom {287c}— + The bard deer-stealing, after dark. + + The bard a tradesman {288a}—and a Jew {288b}— + The bard a botanist {288c}—a beak {288d}— + The bard a skilled musician {288e} too— + A sheriff {288f} and a surgeon {288g} eke! + + Yet critics say (a friendly stock) + That, though it’s evident I try, + Yet even I can barely mock + The glimmer of his wondrous eye! + + One morning as a work I framed, + There passed a person, walking hard: + “My gracious goodness,” I exclaimed, + “How very like my dear old bard! + + “Oh, what a model he would make!” + I rushed outside—impulsive me!— + “Forgive the liberty I take, + But you’re so very”—“Stop!” said he. + + “You needn’t waste your breath or time,— + I know what you are going to say,— + That you’re an artist, and that I’m + Remarkably like SHAKESPEARE. Eh? + + “You wish that I would sit to you?” + I clasped him madly round the waist, + And breathlessly replied, “I do!” + “All right,” said he, “but please make haste.” + + I led him by his hallowed sleeve, + And worked away at him apace, + I painted him till dewy eve,— + There never was a nobler face! + + “Oh, sir,” I said, “a fortune grand + Is yours, by dint of merest chance,— + To sport _his_ brow at second-hand, + To wear _his_ cast-off countenance! + + “To rub _his_ eyes whene’er they ache— + To wear _his_ baldness ere you’re old— + To clean _his_ teeth when you awake— + To blow _his_ nose when you’ve a cold!” + + His eyeballs glistened in his eyes— + I sat and watched and smoked my pipe; + “Bravo!” I said, “I recognize + The phrensy of your prototype!” + + His scanty hair he wildly tore: + “That’s right,” said I, “it shows your breed.” + He danced—he stamped—he wildly swore— + “Bless me, that’s very fine indeed!” + + “Sir,” said the grand Shakesperian boy + (Continuing to blaze away), + “You think my face a source of joy; + That shows you know not what you say. + + “Forgive these yells and cellar-flaps: + I’m always thrown in some such state + When on his face well-meaning chaps + This wretched man congratulate. + + “For, oh! this face—this pointed chin— + This nose—this brow—these eyeballs too, + Have always been the origin + Of all the woes I ever knew! + + “If to the play my way I find, + To see a grand Shakesperian piece, + I have no rest, no ease of mind + Until the author’s puppets cease. + + “Men nudge each other—thus—and say, + ‘This certainly is SHAKESPEARE’S son,’ + And merry wags (of course in play) + Cry ‘Author!’ when the piece is done. + + “In church the people stare at me, + Their soul the sermon never binds; + I catch them looking round to see, + And thoughts of SHAKESPEARE fill their minds. + + “And sculptors, fraught with cunning wile, + Who find it difficult to crown + A bust with BROWN’S insipid smile, + Or TOMKINS’S unmannered frown, + + “Yet boldly make my face their own, + When (oh, presumption!) they require + To animate a paving-stone + With SHAKESPEARE’S intellectual fire. + + “At parties where young ladies gaze, + And I attempt to speak my joy, + ‘Hush, pray,’ some lovely creature says, + ‘The fond illusion don’t destroy!’ + + “Whene’er I speak, my soul is wrung + With these or some such whisperings: + ‘’Tis pity that a SHAKESPEARE’S tongue + Should say such un-Shakesperian things!’ + + “I should not thus be criticised + Had I a face of common wont: + Don’t envy me—now, be advised!” + And, now I think of it, I don’t! + + + + +GREGORY PARABLE, LL.D. + + + A LEAFY cot, where no dry rot + Had ever been by tenant seen, + Where ivy clung and wopses stung, + Where beeses hummed and drummed and strummed, + Where treeses grew and breezes blew— + A thatchy roof, quite waterproof, + Where countless herds of dicky-birds + Built twiggy beds to lay their heads + (My mother begs I’ll make it “eggs,” + But though it’s true that dickies do + Construct a nest with chirpy noise, + With view to rest their eggy joys, + ’Neath eavy sheds, yet eggs and beds, + As I explain to her in vain + Five hundred times, are faulty rhymes). + ’Neath such a cot, built on a plot + Of freehold land, dwelt MARY and + Her worthy father, named by me + GREGORY PARABLE, LL.D. + + He knew no guile, this simple man, + No worldly wile, or plot, or plan, + Except that plot of freehold land + That held the cot, and MARY, and + Her worthy father, named by me + GREGORY PARABLE, LL.D. + + A grave and learned scholar he, + Yet simple as a child could be. + He’d shirk his meal to sit and cram + A goodish deal of Eton Gram. + No man alive could him nonplus + With vocative of _filius_; + No man alive more fully knew + The passive of a verb or two; + None better knew the worth than he + Of words that end in _b_, _d_, _t_. + Upon his green in early spring + He might be seen endeavouring + To understand the hooks and crooks + Of HENRY and his Latin books; + Or calling for his “Cæsar on + The Gallic War,” like any don; + Or, p’raps, expounding unto all + How mythic BALBUS built a wall. + So lived the sage who’s named by me + GREGORY PARABLE, LL.D. + + To him one autumn day there came + A lovely youth of mystic name: + He took a lodging in the house, + And fell a-dodging snipe and grouse, + For, oh! that mild scholastic one + Let shooting for a single gun. + + By three or four, when sport was o’er, + The Mystic One laid by his gun, + And made sheep’s eyes of giant size, + Till after tea, at MARY P. + And MARY P. (so kind was she), + She, too, made eyes of giant size, + Whose every dart right through the heart + Appeared to run that Mystic One. + The Doctor’s whim engrossing him, + He did not know they flirted so. + For, save at tea, “_musa musæ_,” + As I’m advised, monopolised + And rendered blind his giant mind. + But looking up above his cup + One afternoon, he saw them spoon. + “Aha!” quoth he, “you naughty lass! + As quaint old OVID says, ‘Amas!’” + + The Mystic Youth avowed the truth, + And, claiming ruth, he said, “In sooth + I love your daughter, aged man: + Refuse to join us if you can. + Treat not my offer, sir, with scorn, + I’m wealthy though I’m lowly born.” + “Young sir,” the aged scholar said, + “I never thought you meant to wed: + Engrossed completely with my books, + I little noticed lovers’ looks. + I’ve lived so long away from man, + I do not know of any plan + By which to test a lover’s worth, + Except, perhaps, the test of birth. + I’ve half forgotten in this wild + A father’s duty to his child. + It is his place, I think it’s said, + To see his daughters richly wed + To dignitaries of the earth— + If possible, of noble birth. + If noble birth is not at hand, + A father may, I understand + (And this affords a chance for you), + Be satisfied to wed her to + A BOUCICAULT or BARING—which + Means any one who’s very rich. + Now, there’s an Earl who lives hard by,— + My child and I will go and try + If he will make the maid his bride— + If not, to you she shall be tied.” + + They sought the Earl that very day; + The Sage began to say his say. + The Earl (a very wicked man, + Whose face bore Vice’s blackest ban) + Cut short the scholar’s simple tale, + And said in voice to make them quail, + “Pooh! go along! you’re drunk, no doubt— + Here, PETERS, turn these people out!” + + The Sage, rebuffed in mode uncouth, + Returning, met the Mystic Youth. + “My darling boy,” the Scholar said, + “Take MARY—blessings on your head!” + + The Mystic Boy undid his vest, + And took a parchment from his breast, + And said, “Now, by that noble brow, + I ne’er knew father such as thou! + The sterling rule of common sense + Now reaps its proper recompense. + Rejoice, my soul’s unequalled Queen, + For I am DUKE OF GRETNA GREEN!” + + + + +THE KING OF CANOODLE-DUM + + + THE story of FREDERICK GOWLER, + A mariner of the sea, + Who quitted his ship, the _Howler_, + A-sailing in Caribbee. + For many a day he wandered, + Till he met in a state of rum + CALAMITY POP VON PEPPERMINT DROP, + The King of Canoodle-Dum. + + That monarch addressed him gaily, + “Hum! Golly de do to-day? + Hum! Lily-white Buckra Sailee”— + (You notice his playful way?)— + “What dickens you doin’ here, sar? + Why debbil you want to come? + Hum! Picaninnee, dere isn’t no sea + In City Canoodle-Dum!” + + And GOWLER he answered sadly, + “Oh, mine is a doleful tale! + They’ve treated me werry badly + In Lunnon, from where I hail. + I’m one of the Family Royal— + No common Jack Tar you see; + I’m WILLIAM THE FOURTH, far up in the North, + A King in my own countree!” + + Bang-bang! How the tom-toms thundered! + Bang-bang! How they thumped this gongs! + Bang-bang! How the people wondered! + Bang-bang! At it hammer and tongs! + Alliance with Kings of Europe + Is an honour Canoodlers seek, + Her monarchs don’t stop with PEPPERMINT DROP + Every day in the week! + + FRED told them that he was _un_done, + For his people all went insane, + And fired the Tower of London, + And Grinnidge’s Naval Fane. + And some of them racked St. James’s, + And vented their rage upon + The Church of St. Paul, the Fishmongers’ Hall, + And the Angel at Islington. + + CALAMITY POP implored him + In his capital to remain + Till those people of his restored him + To power and rank again. + CALAMITY POP he made him + A Prince of Canoodle-Dum, + With a couple of caves, some beautiful slaves, + And the run of the royal rum. + + Pop gave him his only daughter, + HUM PICKETY WIMPLE TIP: + FRED vowed that if over the water + He went, in an English ship, + He’d make her his Queen,—though truly + It is an unusual thing + For a Caribbee brat who’s as black as your hat + To be wife of an English King. + + And all the Canoodle-Dummers + They copied his rolling walk, + His method of draining rummers, + His emblematical talk. + For his dress and his graceful breeding, + His delicate taste in rum, + And his nautical way, were the talk of the day + In the Court of Canoodle-Dum. + + CALAMITY POP most wisely + Determined in everything + To model his Court precisely + On that of the English King; + And ordered that every lady + And every lady’s lord + Should masticate jacky (a kind of tobaccy), + And scatter its juice abroad. + + They signified wonder roundly + At any astounding yarn, + By darning their dear eyes roundly + (’T was all they had to darn). + They “hoisted their slacks,” adjusting + Garments of plantain-leaves + With nautical twitches (as if they wore breeches, + Instead of a dress like EVE’S!) + + They shivered their timbers proudly, + At a phantom forelock dragged, + And called for a hornpipe loudly + Whenever amusement flagged. + “Hum! Golly! him POP resemble, + Him Britisher sov’reign, hum! + CALAMITY POP VON PEPPERMINT DROP, + De King of Canoodle-Dum!” + + The mariner’s lively “Hollo!” + Enlivened Canoodle’s plain + (For blessings unnumbered follow + In Civilization’s train). + But Fortune, who loves a bathos, + A terrible ending planned, + For ADMIRAL D. CHICKABIDDY, C.B., + Placed foot on Canoodle land! + + That rebel, he seized KING GOWLER, + He threatened his royal brains, + And put him aboard the _Howler_, + And fastened him down with chains. + The _Howler_ she weighed her anchor, + With FREDERICK nicely nailed, + And off to the North with WILLIAM THE FOURTH + These horrible pirates sailed. + + CALAMITY said (with folly), + “Hum! nebber want him again— + Him civilize all of us, golly! + CALAMITY suck him brain!” + The people, however, were pained when + They saw him aboard his ship, + But none of them wept for their FREDDY, except + HUM PICKETY WIMPLE TIP. + + + + +FIRST LOVE + + + A CLERGYMAN in Berkshire dwelt, + The REVEREND BERNARD POWLES, + And in his church there weekly knelt + At least a hundred souls. + + There little ELLEN you might see, + The modest rustic belle; + In maidenly simplicity, + She loved her BERNARD well. + + Though ELLEN wore a plain silk gown + Untrimmed with lace or fur, + Yet not a husband in the town + But wished his wife like her. + + Though sterner memories might fade, + You never could forget + The child-form of that baby-maid, + The Village Violet! + + A simple frightened loveliness, + Whose sacred spirit-part + Shrank timidly from worldly stress, + And nestled in your heart. + + POWLES woo’d with every well-worn plan + And all the usual wiles + With which a well-schooled gentleman + A simple heart beguiles. + + The hackneyed compliments that bore + World-folks like you and me, + Appeared to her as if they wore + The crown of Poesy. + + His winking eyelid sang a song + Her heart could understand, + Eternity seemed scarce too long + When BERNARD squeezed her hand. + + He ordered down the martial crew + Of GODFREY’S Grenadiers, + And COOTE conspired with TINNEY to + Ecstaticise her ears. + + Beneath her window, veiled from eye, + They nightly took their stand; + On birthdays supplemented by + The Covent Garden band. + + And little ELLEN, all alone, + Enraptured sat above, + And thought how blest she was to own + The wealth of POWLES’S love. + + I often, often wonder what + Poor ELLEN saw in him; + For calculated he was _not_ + To please a woman’s whim. + + He wasn’t good, despite the air + An M.B. waistcoat gives; + Indeed, his dearest friends declare + No greater humbug lives. + + No kind of virtue decked this priest, + He’d nothing to allure; + He wasn’t handsome in the least,— + He wasn’t even poor. + + No—he was cursed with acres fat + (A Christian’s direst ban), + And gold—yet, notwithstanding that, + Poor ELLEN loved the man. + + As unlike BERNARD as could be + Was poor old AARON WOOD + (Disgraceful BERNARD’S curate he): + He was extremely good. + + A BAYARD in his moral pluck + Without reproach or fear, + A quiet venerable duck + With fifty pounds a year. + + No fault had he—no fad, except + A tendency to strum, + In mode at which you would have wept, + A dull harmonium. + + He had no gold with which to hire + The minstrels who could best + Convey a notion of the fire + That raged within his breast. + + And so, when COOTE and TINNEY’S Own + Had tootled all they knew, + And when the Guards, completely blown, + Exhaustedly withdrew, + + And NELL began to sleepy feel, + Poor AARON then would come, + And underneath her window wheel + His plain harmonium. + + He woke her every morn at two, + And having gained her ear, + In vivid colours AARON drew + The sluggard’s grim career. + + He warbled Apiarian praise, + And taught her in his chant + To shun the dog’s pugnacious ways, + And imitate the ant. + + Still NELL seemed not, how much he played, + To love him out and out, + Although the admirable maid + Respected him, no doubt. + + She told him of her early vow, + And said as BERNARD’S wife + It might be hers to show him how + To rectify his life. + + “You are so pure, so kind, so true, + Your goodness shines so bright, + What use would ELLEN be to you? + Believe me, you’re all right.” + + She wished him happiness and health, + And flew on lightning wings + To BERNARD with his dangerous wealth + And all the woes it brings. + + + + +BRAVE ALUM BEY + + + OH, big was the bosom of brave ALUM BEY, + And also the region that under it lay, + In safety and peril remarkably cool, + And he dwelt on the banks of the river Stamboul. + + Each morning he went to his garden, to cull + A bunch of zenana or sprig of bul-bul, + And offered the bouquet, in exquisite bloom, + To BACKSHEESH, the daughter of RAHAT LAKOUM. + + No maiden like BACKSHEESH could tastily cook + A kettle of kismet or joint of tchibouk, + As ALUM, brave fellow! sat pensively by, + With a bright sympathetic ka-bob in his eye. + + Stern duty compelled him to leave her one day— + (A ship’s supercargo was brave ALUM BEY)— + To pretty young BACKSHEESH he made a salaam, + And sailed to the isle of Seringapatam. + + “O ALUM,” said she, “think again, ere you go— + Hareems may arise and Moguls they may blow; + You may strike on a fez, or be drowned, which is wuss!” + But ALUM embraced her and spoke to her thus: + + “Cease weeping, fair BACKSHEESH! I willingly swear + Cork jackets and trousers I always will wear, + And I also throw in a large number of oaths + That I never—no, _never_—will take off my clothes!” + + * * * * * + + They left Madagascar away on their right, + And made Clapham Common the following night, + Then lay on their oars for a fortnight or two, + Becalmed in the ocean of Honololu. + + One day ALUM saw, with alarm in his breast, + A cloud on the nor-sow-sow-nor-sow-nor-west; + The wind it arose, and the crew gave a scream, + For they knew it—they knew it!—the dreaded Hareem!! + + The mast it went over, and so did the sails, + Brave ALUM threw over his casks and his bales; + The billows arose as the weather grew thick, + And all except ALUM were terribly sick. + + The crew were but three, but they holloa’d for nine, + They howled and they blubbered with wail and with whine: + The skipper he fainted away in the fore, + For he hadn’t the heart for to skip any more. + + “Ho, coward!” said ALUM, “with heart of a child! + Thou son of a party whose grave is defiled! + Is ALUM in terror? is ALUM afeard? + Ho! ho! If you had one I’d laugh at your beard.” + + His eyeball it gleamed like a furnace of coke; + He boldly inflated his clothes as he spoke; + He daringly felt for the corks on his chest, + And he recklessly tightened the belt at his breast. + + For he knew, the brave ALUM, that, happen what might, + With belts and cork-jacketing, _he_ was all right; + Though others might sink, he was certain to swim,— + No Hareem whatever had terrors for him! + + They begged him to spare from his personal store + A single cork garment—they asked for no more; + But he couldn’t, because of the number of oaths + That he never—no, never!—would take off his clothes. + + The billows dash o’er them and topple around, + They see they are pretty near sure to be drowned. + A terrible wave o’er the quarter-deck breaks, + And the vessel it sinks in a couple of shakes! + + The dreadful Hareem, though it knows how to blow, + Expends all its strength in a minute or so; + When the vessel had foundered, as I have detailed, + The tempest subsided, and quiet prevailed. + + One seized on a cork with a yelling “Ha! ha!” + (Its bottle had ’prisoned a pint of Pacha)— + Another a toothpick—another a tray— + “Alas! it is useless!” said brave ALUM BEY. + + “To holloa and kick is a very bad plan: + Get it over, my tulips, as soon as you can; + You’d better lay hold of a good lump of lead, + And cling to it tightly until you are dead. + + “Just raise your hands over your pretty heads—so— + Right down to the bottom you’re certain to go. + Ta! ta! I’m afraid we shall not meet again”— + For the truly courageous are truly humane. + + Brave ALUM was picked up the very next day— + A man-o’-war sighted him smoking away; + With hunger and cold he was ready to drop, + So they sent him below and they gave him a chop. + + O reader, or readress, whichever you be, + You weep for the crew who have sunk in the sea? + O reader, or readress, read farther, and dry + The bright sympathetic ka-bob in your eye. + + That ship had a grapple with three iron spikes,— + It’s lowered, and, ha! on a something it strikes! + They haul it aboard with a British “heave-ho!” + And what it has fished the drawing will show. + + There was WILSON, and PARKER, and TOMLINSON, too— + (The first was the captain, the others the crew)— + As lively and spry as a Malabar ape, + Quite pleased and surprised at their happy escape. + + And ALUM, brave fellow, who stood in the fore, + And never expected to look on them more, + Was really delighted to see them again, + For the truly courageous are truly humane. + + + + +SIR BARNABY BAMPTON BOO + + + THIS is SIR BARNABY BAMPTON BOO, + Last of a noble race, + BARNABY BAMPTON, coming to woo, + All at a deuce of a pace. + BARNABY BAMPTON BOO, + Here is a health to you: + Here is wishing you luck, you elderly buck— + BARNABY BAMPTON BOO! + + The excellent women of Tuptonvee + Knew SIR BARNABY BOO; + One of them surely his bride would be, + But dickens a soul knew who. + Women of Tuptonvee, + Here is a health to ye + For a Baronet, dears, you would cut off your ears, + Women of Tuptonvee! + + Here are old MR. and MRS. DE PLOW + (PETER his Christian name), + They kept seven oxen, a pig, and a cow— + Farming it was their game. + Worthy old PETER DE PLOW, + Here is a health to thou: + Your race isn’t run, though you’re seventy-one, + Worthy old PETER DE PLOW! + + To excellent MR. and MRS. DE PLOW + Came SIR BARNABY BOO, + He asked for their daughter, and told ’em as how + He was as rich as a Jew. + BARNABY BAMPTON’S wealth, + Here is your jolly good health: + I’d never repine if you came to be mine, + BARNABY BAMPTON’S wealth! + + “O great SIR BARNABY BAMPTON BOO” + (Said PLOW to that titled swell), + “My missus has given me daughters two— + AMELIA and VOLATILE NELL!” + AMELIA and VOLATILE NELL, + I hope you’re uncommonly well: + You two pretty pearls—you extremely nice girls— + AMELIA and VOLATILE NELL! + + “AMELIA is passable only, in face, + But, oh! she’s a worthy girl; + Superior morals like hers would grace + The home of a belted Earl.” + Morality, heavenly link! + To you I’ll eternally drink: + I’m awfully fond of that heavenly bond, + Morality, heavenly link! + + “Now NELLY’S the prettier, p’raps, of my gals, + But, oh! she’s a wayward chit; + She dresses herself in her showy fal-lals, + And doesn’t read TUPPER a bit!” + O TUPPER, philosopher true, + How do you happen to do? + A publisher looks with respect on your books, + For they _do_ sell, philosopher true! + + The Bart. (I’ll be hanged if I drink him again, + Or care if he’s ill or well), + He sneered at the goodness of MILLY THE PLAIN, + And cottoned to VOLATILE NELL! + O VOLATILE NELLY DE P.! + Be hanged if I’ll empty to thee: + I like worthy maids, not mere frivolous jades, + VOLATILE NELLY DE P.! + + They bolted, the Bart. and his frivolous dear, + And MILLY was left to pout; + For years they’ve got on very well, as I hear, + But soon he will rue it, no doubt. + O excellent MILLY DE PLOW, + I really can’t drink to you now; + My head isn’t strong, and the song has been long, + Excellent MILLY DE PLOW! + + + + +THE MODEST COUPLE + + + WHEN man and maiden meet, I like to see a drooping eye, + I always droop my own—I am the shyest of the shy. + I’m also fond of bashfulness, and sitting down on thorns, + For modesty’s a quality that womankind adorns. + + Whenever I am introduced to any pretty maid, + My knees they knock together, just as if I were afraid; + I flutter, and I stammer, and I turn a pleasing red, + For to laugh, and flirt, and ogle I consider most ill-bred. + + But still in all these matters, as in other things below, + There is a proper medium, as I’m about to show. + I do not recommend a newly-married pair to try + To carry on as PETER carried on with SARAH BLIGH. + + Betrothed they were when very young—before they’d learnt to speak + (For SARAH was but six days old, and PETER was a week); + Though little more than babies at those early ages, yet + They bashfully would faint when they occasionally met. + + They blushed, and flushed, and fainted, till they reached the age of + nine, + When PETER’S good papa (he was a Baron of the Rhine) + Determined to endeavour some sound argument to find + To bring these shy young people to a proper frame of mind. + + He told them that as SARAH was to be his PETER’S bride, + They might at least consent to sit at table side by side; + He begged that they would now and then shake hands, till he was + hoarse, + Which SARAH thought indelicate, and PETER very coarse. + + And PETER in a tremble to the blushing maid would say, + “You must excuse papa, MISS BLIGH,—it is his mountain way.” + Says SARAH, “His behaviour I’ll endeavour to forget, + But your papa’s the coarsest person that I ever met. + + “He plighted us without our leave, when we were very young, + Before we had begun articulating with the tongue. + His underbred suggestions fill your SARAH with alarm; + Why, gracious me! he’ll ask us next to walk out arm-in-arm!” + + At length when SARAH reached the legal age of twenty-one, + The Baron he determined to unite her to his son; + And SARAH in a fainting-fit for weeks unconscious lay, + And PETER blushed so hard you might have heard him miles away. + + And when the time arrived for taking SARAH to his heart, + They were married in two churches half-a-dozen miles apart + (Intending to escape all public ridicule and chaff), + And the service was conducted by electric telegraph. + + And when it was concluded, and the priest had said his say, + Until the time arrived when they were both to drive away, + They never spoke or offered for to fondle or to fawn, + For _he_ waited in the attic, and _she_ waited on the lawn. + + At length, when four o’clock arrived, and it was time to go, + The carriage was announced, but decent SARAH answered “No! + Upon my word, I’d rather sleep my everlasting nap, + Than go and ride alone with MR. PETER in a trap.” + + And PETER’S over-sensitive and highly-polished mind + Wouldn’t suffer him to sanction a proceeding of the kind; + And further, he declared he suffered overwhelming shocks + At the bare idea of having any coachman on the box. + + So PETER into one turn-out incontinently rushed, + While SARAH in a second trap sat modestly and blushed; + And MR. NEWMAN’S coachman, on authority I’ve heard, + Drove away in gallant style upon the coach-box of a third. + + Now, though this modest couple in the matter of the car + Were very likely carrying a principle too far, + I hold their shy behaviour was more laudable in them + Than that of PETER’S brother with MISS SARAH’S sister EM. + + ALPHONSO, who in cool assurance all creation licks, + He up and said to EMMIE (who had impudence for six), + “MISS EMILY, I love you—will you marry? Say the word!” + And EMILY said, “Certainly, ALPHONSO, like a bird!” + + I do not recommend a newly-married pair to try + To carry on as PETER carried on with SARAH BLIGH, + But still their shy behaviour was more laudable in them + Than that of PETER’S brother with MISS SARAH’S sister EM. + + + + +THE MARTINET + + + SOME time ago, in simple verse + I sang the story true + Of CAPTAIN REECE, the _Mantelpiece_, + And all her happy crew. + + I showed how any captain may + Attach his men to him, + If he but heeds their smallest needs, + And studies every whim. + + Now mark how, by Draconic rule + And _hauteur_ ill-advised, + The noblest crew upon the Blue + May be demoralized. + + When his ungrateful country placed + Kind REECE upon half-pay, + Without much claim SIR BERKELY came, + And took command one day. + + SIR BERKELY was a martinet— + A stern unyielding soul— + Who ruled his ship by dint of whip + And horrible black-hole. + + A sailor who was overcome + From having freely dined, + And chanced to reel when at the wheel, + He instantly confined! + + And tars who, when an action raged, + Appeared alarmed or scared, + And those below who wished to go, + He very seldom spared. + + E’en he who smote his officer + For punishment was booked, + And mutinies upon the seas + He rarely overlooked. + + In short, the happy _Mantelpiece_, + Where all had gone so well, + Beneath that fool SIR BERKELY’S rule + Became a floating hell. + + When first SIR BERKELY came aboard + He read a speech to all, + And told them how he’d made a vow + To act on duty’s call. + + Then WILLIAM LEE, he up and said + (The Captain’s coxswain he), + “We’ve heard the speech your honour’s made, + And werry pleased we be. + + “We won’t pretend, my lad, as how + We’re glad to lose our REECE; + Urbane, polite, he suited quite + The saucy _Mantelpiece_. + + “But if your honour gives your mind + To study all our ways, + With dance and song we’ll jog along + As in those happy days. + + “I like your honour’s looks, and feel + You’re worthy of your sword. + Your hand, my lad—I’m doosid glad + To welcome you aboard!” + + SIR BERKELY looked amazed, as though + He didn’t understand. + “Don’t shake your head,” good WILLIAM said, + “It is an honest hand. + + “It’s grasped a better hand than yourn— + Come, gov’nor, I insist!” + The Captain stared—the coxswain glared— + The hand became a fist! + + “Down, upstart!” said the hardy salt; + But BERKELY dodged his aim, + And made him go in chains below: + The seamen murmured “Shame!” + + He stopped all songs at 12 p.m., + Stopped hornpipes when at sea, + And swore his cot (or bunk) should not + Be used by aught than he. + + He never joined their daily mess, + Nor asked them to his own, + But chaffed in gay and social way + The officers alone. + + His First Lieutenant, PETER, was + As useless as could be, + A helpless stick, and always sick + When there was any sea. + + This First Lieutenant proved to be + His foster-sister MAY, + Who went to sea for love of he + In masculine array. + + And when he learnt the curious fact, + Did he emotion show, + Or dry her tears or end her fears + By marrying her? No! + + Or did he even try to soothe + This maiden in her teens? + Oh, no!—instead he made her wed + The Sergeant of Marines! + + Of course such Spartan discipline + Would make an angel fret; + They drew a lot, and WILLIAM shot + This fearful martinet. + + The Admiralty saw how ill + They’d treated CAPTAIN REECE; + He was restored once more aboard + The saucy _Mantelpiece_. + + + + +THE SAILOR BOY TO HIS LASS + + + I GO away this blessed day, + To sail across the sea, MATILDA! + My vessel starts for various parts + At twenty after three, MATILDA. + I hardly know where we may go, + Or if it’s near or far, MATILDA, + For CAPTAIN HYDE does not confide + In any ’fore-mast tar, MATILDA! + + Beneath my ban that mystic man + Shall suffer, _coûte qui coûte_, MATILDA! + What right has he to keep from me + The Admiralty route, MATILDA? + Because, forsooth! I am a youth + Of common sailors’ lot, MATILDA! + Am I a man on human plan + Designed, or am I not, MATILDA? + + But there, my lass, we’ll let that pass! + With anxious love I burn, MATILDA. + I want to know if we shall go + To church when I return, MATILDA? + Your eyes are red, you bow your head; + It’s pretty clear you thirst, MATILDA, + To name the day—What’s that you say?— + “You’ll see me further first,” MATILDA? + + I can’t mistake the signs you make, + Although you barely speak, MATILDA; + Though pure and young, you thrust your tongue + Right in your pretty cheek, MATILDA! + My dear, I fear I hear you sneer— + I do—I’m sure I do, MATILDA! + With simple grace you make a face, + Ejaculating, “Ugh!” MATILDA. + + Oh, pause to think before you drink + The dregs of Lethe’s cup, MATILDA! + Remember, do, what I’ve gone through, + Before you give me up, MATILDA! + Recall again the mental pain + Of what I’ve had to do, MATILDA! + And be assured that I’ve endured + It, all along of you, MATILDA! + + Do you forget, my blithesome pet, + How once with jealous rage, MATILDA, + I watched you walk and gaily talk + With some one thrice your age, MATILDA? + You squatted free upon his knee, + A sight that made me sad, MATILDA! + You pinched his cheek with friendly tweak, + Which almost drove me mad, MATILDA! + + I knew him not, but hoped to spot + Some man you thought to wed, MATILDA! + I took a gun, my darling one, + And shot him through the head, MATILDA! + I’m made of stuff that’s rough and gruff + Enough, I own; but, ah, MATILDA! + It _did_ annoy your sailor boy + To find it was your pa, MATILDA! + + I’ve passed a life of toil and strife, + And disappointments deep, MATILDA; + I’ve lain awake with dental ache + Until I fell asleep, MATILDA! + At times again I’ve missed a train, + Or p’rhaps run short of tin, MATILDA, + And worn a boot on corns that shoot, + Or, shaving, cut my chin, MATILDA. + + But, oh! no trains—no dental pains— + Believe me when I say, MATILDA, + No corns that shoot—no pinching boot + Upon a summer day, MATILDA— + It’s my belief, could cause such grief + As that I’ve suffered for, MATILDA, + My having shot in vital spot + Your old progenitor, MATILDA. + + Bethink you how I’ve kept the vow + I made one winter day, MATILDA— + That, come what could, I never would + Remain too long away, MATILDA. + And, oh! the crimes with which, at times, + I’ve charged my gentle mind, MATILDA, + To keep the vow I made—and now + You treat me so unkind, MATILDA! + + For when at sea, off Caribbee, + I felt my passion burn, MATILDA, + By passion egged, I went and begged + The captain to return, MATILDA. + And when, my pet, I couldn’t get + That captain to agree, MATILDA, + Right through a sort of open port + I pitched him in the sea, MATILDA! + + Remember, too, how all the crew + With indignation blind, MATILDA, + Distinctly swore they ne’er before + Had thought me so unkind, MATILDA. + And how they’d shun me one by one— + An unforgiving group, MATILDA— + I stopped their howls and sulky scowls + By pizening their soup, MATILDA! + + So pause to think, before you drink + The dregs of Lethe’s cup, MATILDA; + Remember, do, what I’ve gone through, + Before you give me up, MATILDA. + Recall again the mental pain + Of what I’ve had to do, MATILDA, + And be assured that I’ve endured + It, all along of you, MATILDA! + + + + +THE REVEREND SIMON MAGUS + + + A RICH advowson, highly prized, + For private sale was advertised; + And many a parson made a bid; + The REVEREND SIMON MAGUS did. + + He sought the agent’s: “Agent, I + Have come prepared at once to buy + (If your demand is not too big) + The Cure of Otium-cum-Digge.” + + “Ah!” said the agent, “_there’s_ a berth— + The snuggest vicarage on earth; + No sort of duty (so I hear), + And fifteen hundred pounds a year! + + “If on the price we should agree, + The living soon will vacant be; + The good incumbent’s ninety five, + And cannot very long survive. + + “See—here’s his photograph—you see, + He’s in his dotage.” “Ah, dear me! + Poor soul!” said SIMON. “His decease + Would be a merciful release!” + + The agent laughed—the agent blinked— + The agent blew his nose and winked— + And poked the parson’s ribs in play— + It was that agent’s vulgar way. + + The REVEREND SIMON frowned: “I grieve + This light demeanour to perceive; + It’s scarcely _comme il faut_, I think: + Now—pray oblige me—do not wink. + + “Don’t dig my waistcoat into holes— + Your mission is to sell the souls + Of human sheep and human kids + To that divine who highest bids. + + “Do well in this, and on your head + Unnumbered honours will be shed.” + The agent said, “Well, truth to tell, + I _have_ been doing very well.” + + “You should,” said SIMON, “at your age; + But now about the parsonage. + How many rooms does it contain? + Show me the photograph again. + + “A poor apostle’s humble house + Must not be too luxurious; + No stately halls with oaken floor— + It should be decent and no more. + + “No billiard-rooms—no stately trees— + No croquêt-grounds or pineries.” + “Ah!” sighed the agent, “very true: + This property won’t do for you.” + + “All these about the house you’ll find.”— + “Well,” said the parson, “never mind; + I’ll manage to submit to these + Luxurious superfluities. + + “A clergyman who does not shirk + The various calls of Christian work, + Will have no leisure to employ + These ‘common forms’ of worldly joy. + + “To preach three times on Sabbath days— + To wean the lost from wicked ways— + The sick to soothe—the sane to wed— + The poor to feed with meat and bread; + + “These are the various wholesome ways + In which I’ll spend my nights and days: + My zeal will have no time to cool + At croquet, archery, or pool.” + + The agent said, “From what I hear, + This living will not suit, I fear— + There are no poor, no sick at all; + For services there is no call.” + + The reverend gent looked grave, “Dear me! + Then there is _no_ ‘society’?— + I mean, of course, no sinners there + Whose souls will be my special care?” + + The cunning agent shook his head, + “No, none—except”—(the agent said)— + “The DUKE OF A., the EARL OF B., + The MARQUIS C., and VISCOUNT D. + + “But you will not be quite alone, + For though they’ve chaplains of their own, + Of course this noble well-bred clan + Receive the parish clergyman.” + + “Oh, silence, sir!” said SIMON M., + “Dukes—Earls! What should I care for them? + These worldly ranks I scorn and flout!” + “Of course,” the agent said, “no doubt!” + + “Yet I might show these men of birth + The hollowness of rank on earth.” + The agent answered, “Very true— + But I should not, if I were you.” + + “Who sells this rich advowson, pray?” + The agent winked—it was his way— + “His name is HART; ’twixt me and you, + He is, I’m grieved to say, a Jew!” + + “A Jew?” said SIMON, “happy find! + I purchase this advowson, mind. + My life shall be devoted to + Converting that unhappy Jew!” + + + + +DAMON _v._ PYTHIAS + + + TWO better friends you wouldn’t pass + Throughout a summer’s day, + Than DAMON and his PYTHIAS,— + Two merchant princes they. + + At school together they contrived + All sorts of boyish larks; + And, later on, together thrived + As merry merchants’ clerks. + + And then, when many years had flown, + They rose together till + They bought a business of their own— + And they conduct it still. + + They loved each other all their lives, + Dissent they never knew, + And, stranger still, their very wives + Were rather friendly too. + + Perhaps you think, to serve my ends, + These statements I refute, + When I admit that these dear friends + Were parties to a suit? + + But ’twas a friendly action, for + Good PYTHIAS, as you see, + Fought merely as executor, + And DAMON as trustee. + + They laughed to think, as through the throng + Of suitors sad they passed, + That they, who’d lived and loved so long, + Should go to law at last. + + The junior briefs they kindly let + Two sucking counsel hold; + These learned persons never yet + Had fingered suitors’ gold. + + But though the happy suitors two + Were friendly as could be, + Not so the junior counsel who + Were earning maiden fee. + + They too, till then, were friends. At school + They’d done each other’s sums, + And under Oxford’s gentle rule + Had been the closest chums. + + But now they met with scowl and grin + In every public place, + And often snapped their fingers in + Each other’s learned face. + + It almost ended in a fight + When they on path or stair + Met face to face. They made it quite + A personal affair. + + And when at length the case was called + (It came on rather late), + Spectators really were appalled + To see their deadly hate. + + One junior rose—with eyeballs tense, + And swollen frontal veins: + To all his powers of eloquence + He gave the fullest reins. + + His argument was novel—for + A verdict he relied + On blackening the junior + Upon the other side. + + “Oh,” said the Judge, in robe and fur, + “The matter in dispute + To arbitration pray refer— + This is a friendly suit.” + + And PYTHIAS, in merry mood, + Digged DAMON in the side; + And DAMON, tickled with the feud, + With other digs replied. + + But oh! those deadly counsel twain, + Who were such friends before, + Were never reconciled again— + They quarrelled more and more. + + At length it happened that they met + On Alpine heights one day, + And thus they paid each one his debt, + Their fury had its way— + + They seized each other in a trice, + With scorn and hatred filled, + And, falling from a precipice, + They, both of them, were killed. + + + + +MY DREAM + + + THE other night, from cares exempt, + I slept—and what d’you think I dreamt? + I dreamt that somehow I had come + To dwell in Topsy-Turveydom— + + Where vice is virtue—virtue, vice: + Where nice is nasty—nasty, nice: + Where right is wrong and wrong is right— + Where white is black and black is white. + + Where babies, much to their surprise, + Are born astonishingly wise; + With every Science on their lips, + And Art at all their finger-tips. + + For, as their nurses dandle them + They crow binomial theorem, + With views (it seems absurd to us) + On differential calculus. + + But though a babe, as I have said, + Is born with learning in his head, + He must forget it, if he can, + Before he calls himself a man. + + For that which we call folly here, + Is wisdom in that favoured sphere; + The wisdom we so highly prize + Is blatant folly in their eyes. + + A boy, if he would push his way, + Must learn some nonsense every day; + And cut, to carry out this view, + His wisdom teeth and wisdom too. + + Historians burn their midnight oils, + Intent on giant-killers’ toils; + And sages close their aged eyes + To other sages’ lullabies. + + _Our_ magistrates, in duty bound, + Commit all robbers who are found; + But there the Beaks (so people said) + Commit all robberies instead. + + _Our_ Judges, pure and wise in tone, + Know crime from theory alone, + And glean the motives of a thief + From books and popular belief. + + But there, a Judge who wants to prime + His mind with true ideas of crime, + Derives them from the common sense + Of practical experience. + + Policemen march all folks away + Who practise virtue every day— + Of course, I mean to say, you know, + What we call virtue here below. + + For only scoundrels dare to do + What we consider just and true, + And only good men do, in fact, + What we should think a dirty act. + + But strangest of these social twirls, + The girls are boys—the boys are girls! + The men are women, too—but then, + _Per contra_, women all are men. + + To one who to tradition clings + This seems an awkward state of things, + But if to think it out you try, + It doesn’t really signify. + + With them, as surely as can be, + A sailor should be sick at sea, + And not a passenger may sail + Who cannot smoke right through a gale. + + A soldier (save by rarest luck) + Is always shot for showing pluck + (That is, if others can be found + With pluck enough to fire a round). + + “How strange!” I said to one I saw; + “You quite upset our every law. + However can you get along + So systematically wrong?” + + “Dear me!” my mad informant said, + “Have you no eyes within your head? + You sneer when you your hat should doff: + Why, we begin where you leave off! + + “Your wisest men are very far + Less learned than our babies are!” + I mused awhile—and then, oh me! + I framed this brilliant repartee: + + “Although your babes are wiser far + Than our most valued sages are, + Your sages, with their toys and cots, + Are duller than our idiots!” + + But this remark, I grieve to state, + Came just a little bit too late + For as I framed it in my head, + I woke and found myself in bed. + + Still I could wish that, ’stead of here, + My lot were in that favoured sphere!— + Where greatest fools bear off the bell + I ought to do extremely well. + + + + +THE BISHOP OF RUM-TI-FOO AGAIN + + + I OFTEN wonder whether you + Think sometimes of that Bishop, who + From black but balmy Rum-ti-Foo + Last summer twelvemonth came. + Unto your mind I p’r’aps may bring + Remembrance of the man I sing + To-day, by simply mentioning + That PETER was his name. + + Remember how that holy man + Came with the great Colonial clan + To Synod, called Pan-Anglican; + And kindly recollect + How, having crossed the ocean wide, + To please his flock all means he tried + Consistent with a proper pride + And manly self-respect. + + He only, of the reverend pack + Who minister to Christians black, + Brought any useful knowledge back + To his Colonial fold. + In consequence a place I claim + For “PETER” on the scroll of Fame + (For PETER was that Bishop’s name, + As I’ve already told). + + He carried Art, he often said, + To places where that timid maid + (Save by Colonial Bishops’ aid) + Could never hope to roam. + The Payne-cum-Lauri feat he taught + As he had learnt it; for he thought + The choicest fruits of Progress ought + To bless the Negro’s home. + + And he had other work to do, + For, while he tossed upon the Blue, + The islanders of Rum-ti-Foo + Forgot their kindly friend. + Their decent clothes they learnt to tear— + They learnt to say, “I do not care,” + Though they, of course, were well aware + How folks, who say so, end. + + Some sailors, whom he did not know, + Had landed there not long ago, + And taught them “Bother!” also, “Blow!” + (Of wickedness the germs). + No need to use a casuist’s pen + To prove that they were merchantmen; + No sailor of the Royal N. + Would use such awful terms. + + And so, when BISHOP PETER came + (That was the kindly Bishop’s name), + He heard these dreadful oaths with shame, + And chid their want of dress. + (Except a shell—a bangle rare— + A feather here—a feather there + The South Pacific Negroes wear + Their native nothingness.) + + He taught them that a Bishop loathes + To listen to disgraceful oaths, + He gave them all his left-off clothes— + They bent them to his will. + The Bishop’s gift spreads quickly round; + In PETER’S left-off clothes they bound + (His three-and-twenty suits they found + In fair condition still). + + The Bishop’s eyes with water fill, + Quite overjoyed to find them still + Obedient to his sovereign will, + And said, “Good Rum-ti-Foo! + Half-way I’ll meet you, I declare: + I’ll dress myself in cowries rare, + And fasten feathers in my hair, + And dance the ‘Cutch-chi-boo!’” + + And to conciliate his See + He married PICCADILLILLEE, + The youngest of his twenty-three, + Tall—neither fat nor thin. + (And though the dress he made her don + Looks awkwardly a girl upon, + It was a great improvement on + The one he found her in.) + + The Bishop in his gay canoe + (His wife, of course, went with him too) + To some adjacent island flew, + To spend his honeymoon. + Some day in sunny Rum-ti-Foo + A little PETER’ll be on view; + And that (if people tell me true) + Is like to happen soon. + + + + +A WORM WILL TURN + + + I LOVE a man who’ll smile and joke + When with misfortune crowned; + Who’ll pun beneath a pauper’s yoke, + And as he breaks his daily toke, + Conundrums gay propound. + + Just such a man was BERNARD JUPP, + He scoffed at Fortune’s frown; + He gaily drained his bitter cup— + Though Fortune often threw him up, + It never cast him down. + + Though years their share of sorrow bring, + We know that far above + All other griefs, are griefs that spring + From some misfortune happening + To those we really love. + + E’en sorrow for another’s woe + Our BERNARD failed to quell; + Though by this special form of blow + No person ever suffered so, + Or bore his grief so well. + + His father, wealthy and well clad, + And owning house and park, + Lost every halfpenny he had, + And then became (extremely sad!) + A poor attorney’s clerk. + + All sons it surely would appal, + Except the passing meek, + To see a father lose his all, + And from an independence fall + To one pound ten a week! + + But JUPP shook off this sorrow’s weight, + And, like a Christian son, + Proved Poverty a happy fate— + Proved Wealth to be a devil’s bait, + To lure poor sinners on. + + With other sorrows BERNARD coped, + For sorrows came in packs; + His cousins with their housemaids sloped— + His uncles forged—his aunts eloped— + His sisters married blacks. + + But BERNARD, far from murmuring + (Exemplar, friends, to us), + Determined to his faith to cling,— + He made the best of everything, + And argued softly thus: + + “’Twere harsh my uncles’ forging knack + Too rudely to condemn— + My aunts, repentant, may come back, + And blacks are nothing like as black + As people colour them!” + + Still Fate, with many a sorrow rife, + Maintained relentless fight: + His grandmamma next lost her life, + Then died the mother of his wife, + But still he seemed all right. + + His brother fond (the only link + To life that bound him now) + One morning, overcome by drink, + He broke his leg (the right, I think) + In some disgraceful row. + + But did my BERNARD swear and curse? + Oh no—to murmur loth, + He only said, “Go, get a nurse: + Be thankful that it isn’t worse; + You might have broken both!” + + But worms who watch without concern + The cockchafer on thorns, + Or beetles smashed, themselves will turn + If, walking through the slippery fern, + You tread upon their corns. + + One night as BERNARD made his track + Through Brompton home to bed, + A footpad, with a vizor black, + Took watch and purse, and dealt a crack + On BERNARD’S saint-like head. + + It was too much—his spirit rose, + He looked extremely cross. + Men thought him steeled to mortal foes, + But no—he bowed to countless blows, + But kicked against this loss. + + He finally made up his mind + Upon his friends to call; + Subscription lists were largely signed, + For men were really glad to find + Him mortal, after all! + + + + +THE HAUGHTY ACTOR + + + AN actor—GIBBS, of Drury Lane— + Of very decent station, + Once happened in a part to gain + Excessive approbation: + It sometimes turns a fellow’s brain + And makes him singularly vain + When he believes that he receives + Tremendous approbation. + + His great success half drove him mad, + But no one seemed to mind him; + Well, in another piece he had + Another part assigned him. + This part was smaller, by a bit, + Than that in which he made a hit. + So, much ill-used, he straight refused + To play the part assigned him. + + * * * * * * * * + + _That night that actor slept_, _and I’ll attempt_ + _To tell you of the vivid dream he dreamt_. + + + +THE DREAM. + + + In fighting with a robber band + (A thing he loved sincerely) + A sword struck GIBBS upon the hand, + And wounded it severely. + At first he didn’t heed it much, + He thought it was a simple touch, + But soon he found the weapon’s bound + Had wounded him severely. + + To Surgeon COBB he made a trip, + Who’d just effected featly + An amputation at the hip + Particularly neatly. + A rising man was Surgeon COBB + But this extremely ticklish job + He had achieved (as he believed) + Particularly neatly. + + The actor rang the surgeon’s bell. + “Observe my wounded finger, + Be good enough to strap it well, + And prithee do not linger. + That I, dear sir, may fill again + The Theatre Royal Drury Lane: + This very night I have to fight— + So prithee do not linger.” + + “I don’t strap fingers up for doles,” + Replied the haughty surgeon; + “To use your cant, I don’t play rôles + Utility that verge on. + First amputation—nothing less— + That is my line of business: + We surgeon nobs despise all jobs + Utility that verge on + + “When in your hip there lurks disease” + (So dreamt this lively dreamer), + “Or devastating _caries_ + In _humerus_ or _femur_, + If you can pay a handsome fee, + Oh, then you may remember me— + With joy elate I’ll amputate + Your _humerus_ or _femur_.” + + The disconcerted actor ceased + The haughty leech to pester, + But when the wound in size increased, + And then began to fester, + He sought a learned Counsel’s lair, + And told that Counsel, then and there, + How COBB’S neglect of his defect + Had made his finger fester. + + “Oh, bring my action, if you please, + The case I pray you urge on, + And win me thumping damages + From COBB, that haughty surgeon. + He culpably neglected me + Although I proffered him his fee, + So pray come down, in wig and gown, + On COBB, that haughty surgeon!” + + That Counsel learned in the laws, + With passion almost trembled. + He just had gained a mighty cause + Before the Peers assembled! + Said he, “How dare you have the face + To come with Common Jury case + To one who wings rhetoric flings + Before the Peers assembled?” + + Dispirited became our friend— + Depressed his moral pecker— + “But stay! a thought!—I’ll gain my end, + And save my poor exchequer. + I won’t be placed upon the shelf, + I’ll take it into Court myself, + And legal lore display before + The Court of the Exchequer.” + + He found a Baron—one of those + Who with our laws supply us— + In wig and silken gown and hose, + As if at _Nisi Prius_. + But he’d just given, off the reel, + A famous judgment on Appeal: + It scarce became his heightened fame + To sit at _Nisi Prius_. + + Our friend began, with easy wit, + That half concealed his terror: + “Pooh!” said the Judge, “I only sit + In _Banco_ or in Error. + Can you suppose, my man, that I’d + O’er _Nisi Prius_ Courts preside, + Or condescend my time to spend + On anything but Error?” + + “Too bad,” said GIBBS, “my case to shirk! + You must be bad innately, + To save your skill for mighty work + Because it’s valued greatly!” + But here he woke, with sudden start. + + * * * * * * * * + + He wrote to say he’d play the part. + I’ve but to tell he played it well— + The author’s words—his native wit + Combined, achieved a perfect “hit”— + The papers praised him greatly. + + + + +THE TWO MAJORS + + + AN excellent soldier who’s worthy the name + Loves officers dashing and strict: + When good, he’s content with escaping all blame, + When naughty, he likes to be licked. + + He likes for a fault to be bullied and stormed, + Or imprisoned for several days, + And hates, for a duty correctly performed, + To be slavered with sickening praise. + + No officer sickened with praises his _corps_ + So little as MAJOR LA GUERRE— + No officer swore at his warriors more + Than MAJOR MAKREDI PREPERE. + + Their soldiers adored them, and every grade + Delighted to hear their abuse; + Though whenever these officers came on parade + They shivered and shook in their shoes. + + For, oh! if LA GUERRE could all praises withhold, + Why, so could MAKREDI PREPERE, + And, oh! if MAKREDI could bluster and scold, + Why, so could the mighty LA GUERRE. + + “No doubt we deserve it—no mercy we crave— + Go on—you’re conferring a boon; + We would rather be slanged by a warrior brave, + Than praised by a wretched poltroon!” + + MAKREDI would say that in battle’s fierce rage + True happiness only was met: + Poor MAJOR MAKREDI, though fifty his age, + Had never known happiness yet! + + LA GUERRE would declare, “With the blood of a foe + No tipple is worthy to clink.” + Poor fellow! he hadn’t, though sixty or so, + Yet tasted his favourite drink! + + They agreed at their mess—they agreed in the glass— + They agreed in the choice of their “set,” + And they also agreed in adoring, alas! + The Vivandière, pretty FILLETTE. + + Agreement, you see, may be carried too far, + And after agreeing all round + For years—in this soldierly “maid of the bar,” + A bone of contention they found! + + It may seem improper to call such a pet— + By a metaphor, even—a bone; + But though they agreed in adoring her, yet + Each wanted to make her his own. + + “On the day that you marry her,” muttered PREPERE + (With a pistol he quietly played), + “I’ll scatter the brains in your noddle, I swear, + All over the stony parade!” + + “I cannot do _that_ to you,” answered LA GUERRE, + “Whatever events may befall; + But this _I can_ do—_if you_ wed her, _mon cher_! + I’ll eat you, moustachios and all!” + + The rivals, although they would never engage, + Yet quarrelled whenever they met; + They met in a fury and left in a rage, + But neither took pretty FILLETTE. + + “I am not afraid,” thought MAKREDI PREPERE: + “For country I’m ready to fall; + But nobody wants, for a mere Vivandière, + To be eaten, moustachios and all! + + “Besides, though LA GUERRE has his faults, I’ll allow + He’s one of the bravest of men: + My goodness! if I disagree with him now, + I might disagree with him then.” + + “No coward am I,” said LA GUERRE, “as you guess— + I sneer at an enemy’s blade; + But I don’t want PREPERE to get into a mess + For splashing the stony parade!” + + One day on parade to PREPERE and LA GUERRE + Came CORPORAL JACOT DEBETTE, + And trembling all over, he prayed of them there + To give him the pretty FILLETTE. + + “You see, I am willing to marry my bride + Until you’ve arranged this affair; + I will blow out my brains when your honours decide + Which marries the sweet Vivandière!” + + “Well, take her,” said both of them in a duet + (A favourite form of reply), + “But when I am ready to marry FILLETTE. + Remember you’ve promised to die!” + + He married her then: from the flowery plains + Of existence the roses they cull: + He lived and he died with his wife; and his brains + Are reposing in peace in his skull. + + + + +EMILY, JOHN, JAMES, AND I. + + + A DERBY LEGEND + + EMILY JANE was a nursery maid, + JAMES was a bold Life Guard, + JOHN was a constable, poorly paid + (And I am a doggerel bard). + + A very good girl was EMILY JANE, + JIMMY was good and true, + JOHN was a very good man in the main + (And I am a good man too). + + Rivals for EMMIE were JOHNNY and JAMES, + Though EMILY liked them both; + She couldn’t tell which had the strongest claims + (And _I_ couldn’t take my oath). + + But sooner or later you’re certain to find + Your sentiments can’t lie hid— + JANE thought it was time that she made up her mind + (And I think it was time she did). + + Said JANE, with a smirk, and a blush on her face, + “I’ll promise to wed the boy + Who takes me to-morrow to Epsom Race!” + (Which I would have done, with joy). + + From JOHNNY escaped an expression of pain, + But Jimmy said, “Done with you! + I’ll take you with pleasure, my EMILY JANE!” + (And I would have said so too). + + JOHN lay on the ground, and he roared like mad + (For JOHNNY was sore perplexed), + And he kicked very hard at a very small lad + (Which _I_ often do, when vexed). + + For JOHN was on duty next day with the Force, + To punish all Epsom crimes; + Young people _will_ cross when they’re clearing the course + (I do it myself, sometimes). + + * * * * * * * * + + The Derby Day sun glittered gaily on cads, + On maidens with gamboge hair, + On sharpers and pickpockets, swindlers and pads, + (For I, with my harp, was there). + + And JIMMY went down with his JANE that day, + And JOHN by the collar or nape + Seized everybody who came in his way + (And _I_ had a narrow escape). + + He noticed his EMILY JANE with JIM, + And envied the well-made elf; + And people remarked that he muttered “Oh, dim!” + (I often say “dim!” myself). + + JOHN dogged them all day, without asking their leaves; + For his sergeant he told, aside, + That JIMMY and JANE were notorious thieves + (And I think he was justified). + + But JAMES wouldn’t dream of abstracting a fork, + And JENNY would blush with shame + At stealing so much as a bottle or cork + (A bottle I think fair game). + + But, ah! there’s another more serious crime! + They wickedly strayed upon + The course, at a critical moment of time + (I pointed them out to JOHN). + + The constable fell on the pair in a crack— + And then, with a demon smile, + Let JENNY cross over, but sent JIMMY back + (I played on my harp the while). + + Stern JOHNNY their agony loud derides + With a very triumphant sneer— + They weep and they wail from the opposite sides + (And _I_ shed a silent tear). + + And JENNY is crying away like mad, + And JIMMY is swearing hard; + And JOHNNY is looking uncommonly glad + (And I am a doggerel bard). + + But JIMMY he ventured on crossing again + The scenes of our Isthmian Games— + JOHN caught him, and collared him, giving him pain + (I felt very much for JAMES). + + JOHN led him away with a victor’s hand, + And JIMMY was shortly seen + In the station-house under the grand Grand Stand + (As many a time _I’ve_ been). + + And JIMMY, bad boy, was imprisoned for life, + Though EMILY pleaded hard; + And JOHNNY had EMILY JANE to wife + (And I am a doggerel bard). + + + + +THE PERILS OF INVISIBILITY + + + OLD PETER led a wretched life— + Old PETER had a furious wife; + Old PETER too was truly stout, + He measured several yards about. + + The little fairy PICKLEKIN + One summer afternoon looked in, + And said, “Old PETER, how de do? + Can I do anything for you? + + “I have three gifts—the first will give + Unbounded riches while you live; + The second health where’er you be; + The third, invisibility.” + + “O little fairy PICKLEKIN,” + Old PETER answered with a grin, + “To hesitate would be absurd,— + Undoubtedly I choose the third.” + + “’Tis yours,” the fairy said; “be quite + Invisible to mortal sight + Whene’er you please. Remember me + Most kindly, pray, to MRS. P.” + + Old MRS. PETER overheard + Wee PICKLEKIN’S concluding word, + And, jealous of her girlhood’s choice, + Said, “That was some young woman’s voice!” + + Old PETER let her scold and swear— + Old PETER, bless him, didn’t care. + “My dear, your rage is wasted quite— + Observe, I disappear from sight!” + + A well-bred fairy (so I’ve heard) + Is always faithful to her word: + Old PETER vanished like a shot, + Put then—_his suit of clothes did not_! + + For when conferred the fairy slim + Invisibility on _him_, + She popped away on fairy wings, + Without referring to his “things.” + + So there remained a coat of blue, + A vest and double eyeglass too, + His tail, his shoes, his socks as well, + His pair of—no, I must not tell. + + Old MRS. PETER soon began + To see the failure of his plan, + And then resolved (I quote the Bard) + To “hoist him with his own petard.” + + Old PETER woke next day and dressed, + Put on his coat, and shoes, and vest, + His shirt and stock; _but could not find_ + _His only pair of_—never mind! + + Old PETER was a decent man, + And though he twigged his lady’s plan, + Yet, hearing her approaching, he + Resumed invisibility. + + “Dear MRS. P., my only joy,” + Exclaimed the horrified old boy, + “Now, give them up, I beg of you— + You know what I’m referring to!” + + But no; the cross old lady swore + She’d keep his—what I said before— + To make him publicly absurd; + And MRS. PETER kept her word. + + The poor old fellow had no rest; + His coat, his stick, his shoes, his vest, + Were all that now met mortal eye— + The rest, invisibility! + + “Now, madam, give them up, I beg— + I’ve had rheumatics in my leg; + Besides, until you do, it’s plain + I cannot come to sight again! + + “For though some mirth it might afford + To see my clothes without their lord, + Yet there would rise indignant oaths + If he were seen without his clothes!” + + But no; resolved to have her quiz, + The lady held her own—and his— + And PETER left his humble cot + To find a pair of—you know what. + + But—here’s the worst of the affair— + Whene’er he came across a pair + Already placed for him to don, + He was too stout to get them on! + + So he resolved at once to train, + And walked and walked with all his main; + For years he paced this mortal earth, + To bring himself to decent girth. + + At night, when all around is still, + You’ll find him pounding up a hill; + And shrieking peasants whom he meets, + Fall down in terror on the peats! + + Old PETER walks through wind and rain, + Resolved to train, and train, and train, + Until he weighs twelve stone’ or so— + And when he does, I’ll let you know. + + + + +OLD PAUL AND OLD TIM + + + WHEN rival adorers come courting a maid, + There’s something or other may often be said, + Why _he_ should be pitched upon rather than _him_. + This wasn’t the case with Old PAUL and Old TIM. + + No soul could discover a reason at all + For marrying TIMOTHY rather than PAUL; + Though all could have offered good reasons, on oath, + Against marrying either—or marrying both. + + They were equally wealthy and equally old, + They were equally timid and equally bold; + They were equally tall as they stood in their shoes— + Between them, in fact, there was nothing to choose. + + Had I been young EMILY, I should have said, + “You’re both much too old for a pretty young maid, + Threescore at the least you are verging upon”; + But I wasn’t young EMILY. Let us get on. + + No coward’s blood ran in young EMILY’S veins, + Her martial old father loved bloody campaigns; + At the rumours of battles all over the globe + He pricked up his ears like the war-horse in “Job.” + + He chuckled to hear of a sudden surprise— + Of soldiers, compelled, through an enemy’s spies, + Without any knapsacks or shakos to flee— + For an eminent army-contractor was he. + + So when her two lovers, whose patience was tried, + Implored her between them at once to decide, + She told them she’d marry whichever might bring + Good proofs of his doing the pluckiest thing. + + They both went away with a qualified joy: + That coward, Old PAUL, chose a very small boy, + And when no one was looking, in spite of his fears, + He set to work boxing that little boy’s ears. + + The little boy struggled and tugged at his hair, + But the lion was roused, and Old PAUL didn’t care; + He smacked him, and whacked him, and boxed him, and kicked + Till the poor little beggar was royally licked. + + Old TIM knew a trick worth a dozen of that, + So he called for his stick and he called for his hat. + “I’ll cover myself with cheap glory—I’ll go + And wallop the Frenchmen who live in Soho! + + “The German invader is ravaging France + With infantry rifle and cavalry lance, + And beautiful Paris is fighting her best + To shake herself free from her terrible guest. + + “The Frenchmen in London, in craven alarms, + Have all run away from the summons to arms; + They haven’t the pluck of a pigeon—I’ll go + And wallop the Frenchmen who skulk in Soho!” + + Old TIMOTHY tried it and found it succeed: + That day he caused many French noses to bleed; + Through foggy Soho he spread fear and dismay, + And Frenchmen all round him in agony lay. + + He took care to abstain from employing his fist + On the old and the crippled, for they might resist; + A crippled old man may have pluck in his breast, + But the young and the strong ones are cowards confest. + + Old TIM and Old PAUL, with the list of their foes, + Prostrated themselves at their EMILY’S toes: + “Oh, which of us two is the pluckier blade?” + And EMILY answered and EMILY said: + + “Old TIM has thrashed runaway Frenchmen in scores, + Who ought to be guarding their cities and shores; + Old PAUL has made little chaps’ noses to bleed— + Old PAUL has accomplished the pluckier deed!” + + + + +THE MYSTIC SELVAGEE + + + Perhaps already you may know + SIR BLENNERHASSET PORTICO? + A Captain in the Navy, he— + A Baronet and K.C.B. + You do? I thought so! + It was that Captain’s favourite whim + (A notion not confined to him) + That RODNEY was the greatest tar + Who ever wielded capstan-bar. + He had been taught so. + + “BENBOW! CORNWALLIS! HOOD!—Belay! + Compared with RODNEY”—he would say— + “No other tar is worth a rap! + The great LORD RODNEY was the chap + The French to polish! + Though, mind you, I respect LORD HOOD; + CORNWALLIS, too, was rather good; + BENBOW could enemies repel, + LORD NELSON, too, was pretty well— + That is, tol-lol-ish!” + + SIR BLENNERHASSET spent his days + In learning RODNEY’S little ways, + And closely imitated, too, + His mode of talking to his crew— + His port and paces. + An ancient tar he tried to catch + Who’d served in RODNEY’S famous batch; + But since his time long years have fled, + And RODNEY’S tars are mostly dead: + _Eheu fugaces_! + + But after searching near and far, + At last he found an ancient tar + Who served with RODNEY and his crew + Against the French in ’Eighty-two, + (That gained the peerage). + He gave him fifty pounds a year, + His rum, his baccy, and his beer; + And had a comfortable den + Rigged up in what, by merchantmen, + Is called the steerage. + + “Now, JASPER”—’t was that sailor’s name— + “Don’t fear that you’ll incur my blame + By saying, when it seems to you, + That there is anything I do + That RODNEY wouldn’t.” + The ancient sailor turned his quid, + Prepared to do as he was bid: + “Ay, ay, yer honour; to begin, + You’ve done away with ‘swifting in’— + Well, sir, you shouldn’t! + + “Upon your spars I see you’ve clapped + Peak halliard blocks, all iron-capped. + I would not christen that a crime, + But ’twas not done in RODNEY’S time. + It looks half-witted! + Upon your maintop-stay, I see, + You always clap a selvagee! + Your stays, I see, are equalized— + No vessel, such as RODNEY prized, + Would thus be fitted! + + “And RODNEY, honoured sir, would grin + To see you turning deadeyes in, + Not _up_, as in the ancient way, + But downwards, like a cutter’s stay— + You didn’t oughter; + Besides, in seizing shrouds on board, + Breast backstays you have quite ignored; + Great RODNEY kept unto the last + Breast backstays on topgallant mast— + They make it tauter.” + + SIR BLENNERHASSET “swifted in,” + Turned deadeyes up, and lent a fin + To strip (as told by JASPER KNOX) + The iron capping from his blocks, + Where there was any. + SIR BLENNERHASSET does away, + With selvagees from maintop-stay; + And though it makes his sailors stare, + He rigs breast backstays everywhere— + In fact, too many. + + One morning, when the saucy craft + Lay calmed, old JASPER toddled aft. + “My mind misgives me, sir, that we + Were wrong about that selvagee— + I should restore it.” + “Good,” said the Captain, and that day + Restored it to the maintop-stay. + Well-practised sailors often make + A much more serious mistake, + And then ignore it. + + Next day old JASPER came once more: + “I think, sir, I was right before.” + Well, up the mast the sailors skipped, + The selvagee was soon unshipped, + And all were merry. + Again a day, and JASPER came: + “I p’r’aps deserve your honour’s blame, + I can’t make up my mind,” said he, + “About that cursed selvagee— + It’s foolish—very. + + “On Monday night I could have sworn + That maintop-stay it should adorn, + On Tuesday morning I could swear + That selvagee should not be there. + The knot’s a rasper!” + “Oh, you be hanged,” said CAPTAIN P., + “Here, go ashore at Caribbee. + Get out—good bye—shove off—all right!” + Old JASPER soon was out of sight— + Farewell, old JASPER! + + + + +THE CUNNING WOMAN + + + On all Arcadia’s sunny plain, + On all Arcadia’s hill, + None were so blithe as BILL and JANE, + So blithe as JANE and BILL. + + No social earthquake e’er occurred + To rack their common mind: + To them a Panic was a word— + A Crisis, empty wind. + + No Stock Exchange disturbed the lad + With overwhelming shocks— + BILL ploughed with all the shares he had, + JANE planted all her stocks. + + And learn in what a simple way + Their pleasures they enhanced— + JANE danced like any lamb all day, + BILL piped as well as danced. + + Surrounded by a twittling crew, + Of linnet, lark, and thrush, + BILL treated his young lady to + This sentimental gush: + + “Oh, JANE, how true I am to you! + How true you are to me! + And how we woo, and how we coo! + So fond a pair are we! + + “To think, dear JANE, that anyways. + Your chiefest end and aim + Is, one of these fine summer days, + To bear my humble name!” + + Quoth JANE, “Well, as you put the case, + I’m true enough, no doubt, + But then, you see, in this here place + There’s none to cut you out. + + “But, oh! if anybody came— + A Lord or any such— + I do not think your humble name + Would fascinate me much. + + “For though your mates, you often boast. + You distance out-and-out; + Still, in the abstract, you’re a most + Uncompromising lout!” + + Poor BILL, he gave a heavy sigh, + He tried in vain to speak— + A fat tear started to each eye + And coursed adown each cheek. + + For, oh! right well in truth he knew + That very self-same day, + The LORD DE JACOB PILLALOO + Was coming there to stay! + + The LORD DE JACOB PILLALOO + All proper maidens shun— + He loves all women, it is true, + But never marries one. + + Now JANE, with all her mad self-will, + Was no coquette—oh no! + She really loved her faithful BILL, + And thus she tuned her woe: + + “Oh, willow, willow, o’er the lea! + And willow once again! + The Peer will fall in love with me! + Why wasn’t I made plain?” + + * * * * * + + A cunning woman lived hard by, + A sorceressing dame, + MACCATACOMB DE SALMON-EYE + Was her uncommon name. + + To her good JANE, with kindly yearn + For BILL’S increasing pain, + Repaired in secrecy to learn + How best to make her plain. + + “Oh, JANE,” the worthy woman said, + “This mystic phial keep, + And rub its liquor in your head + Before you go to sleep. + + “When you awake next day, I trow, + You’ll look in form and hue + To others just as you do now— + But not to PILLALOO! + + “When you approach him, you will find + He’ll think you coarse—unkempt— + And rudely bid you get behind, + With undisguised contempt.” + + The LORD DE PILLALOO arrived + With his expensive train, + And when in state serenely hived, + He sent for BILL and JANE. + + “Oh, spare her, LORD OF PILLALOO! + (Said BILL) if wed you be, + There’s anything _I’d_ rather do + Than flirt with LADY P.” + + The Lord he gazed in Jenny’s eyes, + He looked her through and through: + The cunning woman’s prophecies + Were clearly coming true. + + LORD PILLALOO, the Rustic’s Bane + (Bad person he, and proud), + _He laughed Ha_! _ha_! _at pretty_ JANE, + _And sneered at her aloud_! + + He bade her get behind him then, + And seek her mother’s stye— + Yet to her native countrymen + She was as fair as aye! + + MACCATACOMB, continue green! + Grow, SALMON-EYE, in might, + Except for you, there might have been + The deuce’s own delight + + + + +PHRENOLOGY + + + “COME, collar this bad man— + Around the throat he knotted me + Till I to choke began— + In point of fact, garotted me!” + + So spake SIR HERBERT WRITE + To JAMES, Policeman Thirty-two— + All ruffled with his fight + SIR HERBERT was, and dirty too. + + Policeman nothing said + (Though he had much to say on it), + But from the bad man’s head + He took the cap that lay on it. + + “No, great SIR HERBERT WHITE— + Impossible to take him up. + This man is honest quite— + Wherever did you rake him up? + + “For Burglars, Thieves, and Co., + Indeed, I’m no apologist, + But I, some years ago, + Assisted a Phrenologist. + + “Observe his various bumps, + His head as I uncover it: + His morals lie in lumps + All round about and over it.” + + “Now take him,” said SIR WHITE, + “Or you will soon be rueing it; + Bless me! I must be right,— + I caught the fellow doing it!” + + Policeman calmly smiled, + “Indeed you are mistaken, sir, + You’re agitated—riled— + And very badly shaken, sir. + + “Sit down, and I’ll explain + My system of Phrenology, + A second, please, remain”— + (A second is horology). + + Policeman left his beat— + (The Bart., no longer furious, + Sat down upon a seat, + Observing, “This is curious!”) + + “Oh, surely, here are signs + Should soften your rigidity: + This gentleman combines + Politeness with timidity. + + “Of Shyness here’s a lump— + A hole for Animosity— + And like my fist his bump + Of Impecuniosity. + + “Just here the bump appears + Of Innocent Hilarity, + And just behind his ears + Are Faith, and Hope, and Charity. + + “He of true Christian ways + As bright example sent us is— + This maxim he obeys, + ‘_Sorte tuâ contentus sis_.’ + + “There, let him go his ways, + He needs no stern admonishing.” + The Bart., in blank amaze, + Exclaimed, “This is astonishing! + + “I _must_ have made a mull, + This matter I’ve been blind in it: + Examine, please, _my_ skull, + And tell me what you find in it.” + + That Crusher looked, and said, + With unimpaired urbanity, + “SIR HERBERT, you’ve a head + That teems with inhumanity. + + “Here’s Murder, Envy, Strife + (Propensity to kill any), + And Lies as large as life, + And heaps of Social Villany. + + “Here’s Love of Bran-New Clothes, + Embezzling—Arson—Deism— + A taste for Slang and Oaths, + And Fraudulent Trusteeism. + + “Here’s Love of Groundless Charge— + Here’s Malice, too, and Trickery, + Unusually large + Your bump of Pocket-Pickery—” + + “Stop!” said the Bart., “my cup + Is full—I’m worse than him in all; + Policeman, take me up— + No doubt I am some criminal!” + + That Pleeceman’s scorn grew large + (Phrenology had nettled it), + He took that Bart. in charge— + I don’t know how they settled it. + + + + +THE FAIRY CURATE + + + ONCE a fairy + Light and airy + Married with a mortal; + Men, however, + Never, never + Pass the fairy portal. + Slyly stealing, + She to Ealing + Made a daily journey; + There she found him, + Clients round him + (He was an attorney). + + Long they tarried, + Then they married. + When the ceremony + Once was ended, + Off they wended + On their moon of honey. + Twelvemonth, maybe, + Saw a baby + (Friends performed an orgie). + Much they prized him, + And baptized him + By the name of GEORGIE. + + GEORGIE grew up; + Then he flew up + To his fairy mother. + Happy meeting— + Pleasant greeting— + Kissing one another. + “Choose a calling + Most enthralling, + I sincerely urge ye.” + “Mother,” said he + (Rev’rence made he), + “I would join the clergy. + + “Give permission + In addition— + Pa will let me do it: + There’s a living + In his giving— + He’ll appoint me to it. + Dreams of coff’ring, + Easter off’ring, + Tithe and rent and pew-rate, + So inflame me + (Do not blame me), + That I’ll be a curate.” + + She, with pleasure, + Said, “My treasure, + ’T is my wish precisely. + Do your duty, + There’s a beauty; + You have chosen wisely. + Tell your father + I would rather + As a churchman rank you. + You, in clover, + I’ll watch over.” + GEORGIE said, “Oh, thank you!” + + GEORGIE scudded, + Went and studied, + Made all preparations, + And with credit + (Though he said it) + Passed examinations. + (Do not quarrel + With him, moral, + Scrupulous digestions— + ’Twas his mother, + And no other, + Answered all the questions.) + + Time proceeded; + Little needed + GEORGIE admonition: + He, elated, + Vindicated + Clergyman’s position. + People round him + Always found him + Plain and unpretending; + Kindly teaching, + Plainly preaching, + All his money lending. + + So the fairy, + Wise and wary, + Felt no sorrow rising— + No occasion + For persuasion, + Warning, or advising. + He, resuming + Fairy pluming + (That’s not English, is it?) + Oft would fly up, + To the sky up, + Pay mamma a visit. + + * * * * * * * * + + Time progressing, + GEORGIE’S blessing + Grew more Ritualistic— + Popish scandals, + Tonsures—sandals— + Genuflections mystic; + Gushing meetings— + Bosom-beatings— + Heavenly ecstatics— + Broidered spencers— + Copes and censers— + Rochets and dalmatics. + + This quandary + Vexed the fairy— + Flew she down to Ealing. + “GEORGIE, stop it! + Pray you, drop it; + Hark to my appealing: + To this foolish + Papal rule-ish + Twaddle put an ending; + This a swerve is + From our Service + Plain and unpretending.” + + He, replying, + Answered, sighing, + Hawing, hemming, humming, + “It’s a pity— + They’re so pritty; + Yet in mode becoming, + Mother tender, + I’ll surrender— + I’ll be unaffected—” + But his Bishop + Into _his_ shop + Entered unexpected! + + “Who is this, sir,— + Ballet miss, sir?” + Said the Bishop coldly. + “’T is my mother, + And no other,” + GEORGIE answered boldly. + “Go along, sir! + You are wrong, sir; + You have years in plenty, + While this hussy + (Gracious mussy!) + Isn’t two and twenty!” + + (Fairies clever + Never, never + Grow in visage older; + And the fairy, + All unwary, + Leant upon his shoulder!) + Bishop grieved him, + Disbelieved him; + GEORGE the point grew warm on; + Changed religion, + Like a pigeon, {452} + And became a Mormon! + + + + +THE WAY OF WOOING + + + A MAIDEN sat at her window wide, + Pretty enough for a Prince’s bride, + Yet nobody came to claim her. + She sat like a beautiful picture there, + With pretty bluebells and roses fair, + And jasmine-leaves to frame her. + And why she sat there nobody knows; + But this she sang as she plucked a rose, + The leaves around her strewing: + “I’ve time to lose and power to choose; + ’T is not so much the gallant who woos, + But the gallant’s _way_ of wooing!” + + A lover came riding by awhile, + A wealthy lover was he, whose smile + Some maids would value greatly— + A formal lover, who bowed and bent, + With many a high-flown compliment, + And cold demeanour stately, + “You’ve still,” said she to her suitor stern, + “The ’prentice-work of your craft to learn, + If thus you come a-cooing. + I’ve time to lose and power to choose; + ’T is not so much the gallant who woos, + As the gallant’s _way_ of wooing!” + + A second lover came ambling by— + A timid lad with a frightened eye + And a colour mantling highly. + He muttered the errand on which he’d come, + Then only chuckled and bit his thumb, + And simpered, simpered shyly. + “No,” said the maiden, “go your way; + You dare but think what a man would say, + Yet dare to come a-suing! + I’ve time to lose and power to choose; + ’T is not so much the gallant who woos, + As the gallant’s _way_ of wooing!” + + A third rode up at a startling pace— + A suitor poor, with a homely face— + No doubts appeared to bind him. + He kissed her lips and he pressed her waist, + And off he rode with the maiden, placed + On a pillion safe behind him. + And she heard the suitor bold confide + This golden hint to the priest who tied + The knot there’s no undoing; + “With pretty young maidens who can choose, + ’Tis not so much the gallant who woos, + As the gallant’s _way_ of wooing!” + + + + +HONGREE AND MAHRY + + + A RICHARDSON MELODRAMA + + THE sun was setting in its wonted west, + When HONGREE, Sub-Lieutenant of Chassoores, + Met MAHRY DAUBIGNY, the Village Rose, + Under the Wizard’s Oak—old trysting-place + Of those who loved in rosy Aquitaine. + + They thought themselves unwatched, but they were not; + For HONGREE, Sub-Lieutenant of Chassoores, + Found in LIEUTENANT-COLONEL JOOLES DUBOSC + A rival, envious and unscrupulous, + Who thought it not foul scorn to dodge his steps, + And listen, unperceived, to all that passed + Between the simple little Village Rose + And HONGREE, Sub-Lieutenant of Chassoores. + + A clumsy barrack-bully was DUBOSC, + Quite unfamiliar with the well-bred tact + That animates a proper gentleman + In dealing with a girl of humble rank. + You’ll understand his coarseness when I say + He would have married MAHRY DAUBIGNY, + And dragged the unsophisticated girl + Into the whirl of fashionable life, + For which her singularly rustic ways, + Her breeding (moral, but extremely rude), + Her language (chaste, but ungrammatical), + Would absolutely have unfitted her. + How different to this unreflecting boor + Was HONGREE, Sub-Lieutenant of Chassoores. + + Contemporary with the incident + Related in our opening paragraph, + Was that sad war ’twixt Gallia and ourselves + That followed on the treaty signed at Troyes; + And so LIEUTENANT-COLONEL JOOLES DUBOSC + (Brave soldier, he, with all his faults of style) + And HONGREE, Sub-Lieutenant of Chassoores, + Were sent by CHARLES of France against the lines + Of our Sixth HENRY (Fourteen twenty-nine), + To drive his legions out of Aquitaine. + + When HONGREE, Sub-Lieutenant of Chassoores, + Returned, suspecting nothing, to his camp, + After his meeting with the Village Rose, + He found inside his barrack letter-box + A note from the commanding officer, + Requiring his attendance at head-quarters. + He went, and found LIEUTENANT-COLONEL JOOLES. + + “Young HONGREE, Sub-Lieutenant of Chassoores, + This night we shall attack the English camp: + Be the ‘forlorn hope’ yours—you’ll lead it, sir, + And lead it too with credit, I’ve no doubt. + As every man must certainly be killed + (For you are twenty ’gainst two thousand men), + It is not likely that you will return. + But what of that? you’ll have the benefit + Of knowing that you die a soldier’s death.” + + Obedience was young HONGREE’S strongest point, + But he imagined that he only owed + Allegiance to his MAHRY and his King. + “If MAHRY bade me lead these fated men, + I’d lead them—but I do not think she would. + If CHARLES, my King, said, ‘Go, my son, and die,’ + I’d go, of course—my duty would be clear. + But MAHRY is in bed asleep, I hope, + And CHARLES, my King, a hundred leagues from this. + As for LIEUTENANT-COLONEL JOOLES DUBOSC, + How know I that our monarch would approve + The order he has given me to-night? + My King I’ve sworn in all things to obey— + I’ll only take my orders from my King!” + Thus HONGREE, Sub-Lieutenant of Chassoores, + Interpreted the terms of his commission. + + And HONGREE, who was wise as he was good, + Disguised himself that night in ample cloak, + Round flapping hat, and vizor mask of black, + And made, unnoticed, for the English camp. + He passed the unsuspecting sentinels + (Who little thought a man in this disguise + Could be a proper object of suspicion), + And ere the curfew bell had boomed “lights out,” + He found in audience Bedford’s haughty Duke. + + “Your Grace,” he said, “start not—be not alarmed, + Although a Frenchman stands before your eyes. + I’m HONGREE, Sub-Lieutenant of Chassoores. + My Colonel will attack your camp to-night, + And orders me to lead the hope forlorn. + Now I am sure our excellent KING CHARLES + Would not approve of this; but he’s away + A hundred leagues, and rather more than that. + So, utterly devoted to my King, + Blinded by my attachment to the throne, + And having but its interest at heart, + I feel it is my duty to disclose + All schemes that emanate from COLONEL JOOLES, + If I believe that they are not the kind + Of schemes that our good monarch would approve.” + + “But how,” said Bedford’s Duke, “do you propose + That we should overthrow your Colonel’s scheme?” + And HONGREE, Sub-Lieutenant of Chassoores, + Replied at once with never-failing tact: + “Oh, sir, I know this cursed country well. + Entrust yourself and all your host to me; + I’ll lead you safely by a secret path + Into the heart of COLONEL JOOLES’ array, + And you can then attack them unprepared, + And slay my fellow-countrymen unarmed.” + + The thing was done. The DUKE OF BEDFORD gave + The order, and two thousand fighting men + Crept silently into the Gallic camp, + And slew the Frenchmen as they lay asleep; + And Bedford’s haughty Duke slew COLONEL JOOLES, + And gave fair MAHRY, pride of Aquitaine, + To HONGREE, Sub-Lieutenant of Chassoores. + + + + +ETIQUETTE + + + THE _Ballyshannon_ foundered off the coast of Cariboo, + And down in fathoms many went the captain and the crew; + Down went the owners—greedy men whom hope of gain allured: + Oh, dry the starting tear, for they were heavily insured. + + Besides the captain and the mate, the owners and the crew, + The passengers were also drowned excepting only two: + Young PETER GRAY, who tasted teas for BAKER, CROOP, AND CO., + And SOMERS, who from Eastern shores imported indigo. + + These passengers, by reason of their clinging to a mast, + Upon a desert island were eventually cast. + They hunted for their meals, as ALEXANDER SELKIRK used, + But they couldn’t chat together—they had not been introduced. + + For PETER GRAY, and SOMERS too, though certainly in trade, + Were properly particular about the friends they made; + And somehow thus they settled it without a word of mouth— + That GRAY should take the northern half, while SOMERS took the south. + + On PETER’S portion oysters grew—a delicacy rare, + But oysters were a delicacy PETER couldn’t bear. + On SOMERS’ side was turtle, on the shingle lying thick, + Which SOMERS couldn’t eat, because it always made him sick. + + GRAY gnashed his teeth with envy as he saw a mighty store + Of turtle unmolested on his fellow-creature’s shore. + The oysters at his feet aside impatiently he shoved, + For turtle and his mother were the only things he loved. + + And SOMERS sighed in sorrow as he settled in the south, + For the thought of PETER’S oysters brought the water to his mouth. + He longed to lay him down upon the shelly bed, and stuff: + He had often eaten oysters, but had never had enough. + + How they wished an introduction to each other they had had + When on board the _Ballyshannon_! And it drove them nearly mad + To think how very friendly with each other they might get, + If it wasn’t for the arbitrary rule of etiquette! + + One day, when out a-hunting for the _mus ridiculus_, + GRAY overheard his fellow-man soliloquizing thus: + “I wonder how the playmates of my youth are getting on, + M‘CONNELL, S. B. WALTERS, PADDY BYLES, and ROBINSON?” + + These simple words made PETER as delighted as could be, + Old chummies at the Charterhouse were ROBINSON and he! + He walked straight up to SOMERS, then he turned extremely red, + Hesitated, hummed and hawed a bit, then cleared his throat, and said: + + “I beg your pardon—pray forgive me if I seem too bold, + But you have breathed a name I knew familiarly of old. + You spoke aloud of ROBINSON—I happened to be by. + You know him?” “Yes, extremely well.” “Allow me, so do I.” + + It was enough: they felt they could more pleasantly get on, + For (ah, the magic of the fact!) they each knew ROBINSON! + And Mr. SOMERS’ turtle was at PETER’S service quite, + And Mr. SOMERS punished PETER’S oyster-beds all night. + + They soon became like brothers from community of wrongs: + They wrote each other little odes and sang each other songs; + They told each other anecdotes disparaging their wives; + On several occasions, too, they saved each other’s lives. + + They felt quite melancholy when they parted for the night, + And got up in the morning soon as ever it was light; + Each other’s pleasant company they reckoned so upon, + And all because it happened that they both knew ROBINSON! + + They lived for many years on that inhospitable shore, + And day by day they learned to love each other more and more. + At last, to their astonishment, on getting up one day, + They saw a frigate anchored in the offing of the bay. + + To PETER an idea occurred. “Suppose we cross the main? + So good an opportunity may not be found again.” + And SOMERS thought a minute, then ejaculated, “Done! + I wonder how my business in the City’s getting on?” + + “But stay,” said Mr. PETER: “when in England, as you know, + I earned a living tasting teas for BAKER, CROOP, AND CO., + I may be superseded—my employers think me dead!” + “Then come with me,” said SOMERS, “and taste indigo instead.” + + But all their plans were scattered in a moment when they found + The vessel was a convict ship from Portland, outward bound; + When a boat came off to fetch them, though they felt it very kind, + To go on board they firmly but respectfully declined. + + As both the happy settlers roared with laughter at the joke, + They recognized a gentlemanly fellow pulling stroke: + ’Twas ROBINSON—a convict, in an unbecoming frock! + Condemned to seven years for misappropriating stock!!! + + They laughed no more, for SOMERS thought he had been rather rash + In knowing one whose friend had misappropriated cash; + And PETER thought a foolish tack he must have gone upon + In making the acquaintance of a friend of ROBINSON. + + At first they didn’t quarrel very openly, I’ve heard; + They nodded when they met, and now and then exchanged a word: + The word grew rare, and rarer still the nodding of the head, + And when they meet each other now, they cut each other dead. + + To allocate the island they agreed by word of mouth, + And PETER takes the north again, and SOMERS takes the south; + And PETER has the oysters, which he hates, in layers thick, + And SOMERS has the turtle—turtle always makes him sick. + + + + +FOOTNOTES + + +{287a} “Go with me to a Notary—seal me there +Your single bond.”—_Merchant of Venice_, Act I., sc. 3. + +{287b} “And there shall she, at Friar Lawrence’ cell, +Be shrived and married.”—_Romeo and Juliet_, Act II., sc. 4. + +{287c} “And give the fasting horses provender.”—_Henry the Fifth_, Act +IV., sc. 2. + +{288a} “Let us, like merchants, show our foulest wares.”—_Troilus and +Cressida_, Act I., sc. 3. + +{288b} “Then must the Jew be merciful.”—_Merchant of Venice_, Act IV., +sc. 1. + +{288c} “The spring, the summer, +The chilling autumn, angry winter, change +Their wonted liveries.”—_Midsummer Night Dream_, Act IV., sc. 1. + +{288d} “In the county of Glo’ster, justice of the peace and +_coram_.”—_Merry Wives of Windsor_, Act I., sc. 1. + +{288e} “What lusty trumpet thus doth summon us?”—_King John_, Act V., +sc. 2. + +{288f} “And I’ll provide his executioner.”—_Henry the Sixth_ (Second +Part), Act III., sc. 1. + +{288g} “The lioness had torn some flesh away, +Which all this while had bled.”—_As You Like It_, Act IV., sc. 3. + +{452} “Like a bird.” + + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MORE BAB BALLADS*** + + +******* This file should be named 933-0.txt or 933-0.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/9/3/933 + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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S. Gilbert</title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + P { margin-top: .75em; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + P.gutsumm { margin-left: 5%;} + P.poetry {margin-left: 3%; } + .GutSmall { font-size: 0.7em; } + H1, H2 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + } + H3, H4, H5 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + } + BODY{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + table { border-collapse: collapse; } +table {margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto;} + td { vertical-align: top; border: 1px solid black;} + td p { margin: 0.2em; } + .blkquot {margin-left: 4em; margin-right: 4em;} /* block indent */ + + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .pagenum {position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: small; + text-align: right; + font-weight: normal; + color: gray; + } + img { border: none; } + img.dc { float: left; width: 50px; height: 50px; } + p.gutindent { margin-left: 2em; } + div.gapspace { height: 0.8em; } + div.gapline { height: 0.8em; width: 100%; border-top: 1px solid;} + div.gapmediumline { height: 0.3em; width: 40%; margin-left:30%; + border-top: 1px solid; } + div.gapmediumdoubleline { height: 0.3em; width: 40%; margin-left:30%; + border-top: 1px solid; border-bottom: 1px solid;} + div.gapshortdoubleline { height: 0.3em; width: 20%; + margin-left: 40%; border-top: 1px solid; + border-bottom: 1px solid; } + div.gapdoubleline { height: 0.3em; width: 50%; + margin-left: 25%; border-top: 1px solid; + border-bottom: 1px solid;} + div.gapshortline { height: 0.3em; width: 20%; margin-left:40%; + border-top: 1px solid; } + .citation {vertical-align: super; + font-size: .5em; + text-decoration: none;} + span.red { color: red; } + body {background-color: #ffffc0; } + img.floatleft { float: left; + margin-right: 1em; + margin-top: 0.5em; margin-bottom: 0.5em; } + img.floatright { float: right; + margin-left: 1em; margin-top: 0.5em; + margin-bottom: 0.5em; } + img.clearcenter {display: block; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0.5em; + margin-bottom: 0.5em} + --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> +</head> +<body> +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg eBook, More Bab Ballads, by W. S. Gilbert + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most +other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of +the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have +to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. + + + + +Title: More Bab Ballads + + +Author: W. S. Gilbert + + + +Release Date: August 14, 2019 [eBook #933] +[This file was first posted on June 3, 1997] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MORE BAB BALLADS*** +</pre> +<p>Transcribed from the 1920 Macmillan and Co edition of +“The Bab Ballads”, also from “Fifty Bab +Ballads” 1884 George Routledge and Sons edition by David +Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/cover.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Public domain cover" +title= +"Public domain cover" + src="images/cover.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<h1>MORE BAB BALLADS</h1> +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> +<table> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The Bumboat Woman’s +Story</span></p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page214">214</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The Two Ogres</span></p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page221">221</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Little Oliver</span></p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page229">229</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Mister William</span></p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page235">235</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Pasha Bailey Ben</span></p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page242">242</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Lieutenant-Colonel Flare</span></p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page248">248</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Lost Mr. Blake</span></p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page256">256</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The Baby’s Vengeance</span></p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page265">265</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The Captain and the +Mermaids</span></p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page273">273</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Annie Protheroe</span></p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page280">280</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">An Unfortunate Likeness</span></p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page287">287</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Gregory Parable, LL.D.</span></p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page294">294</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The King of Canoodle-dum</span></p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page301">301</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">First Love</span></p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page309">309</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Brave Alum Bey</span></p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page317">317</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Sir Barnaby Bampton Boo</span></p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page324">324</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The Modest Couple</span></p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page330">330</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The Martinet</span></p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page338">338</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The Sailor Boy to his Lass</span></p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page348">348</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The Reverend Simon Magus</span></p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page356">356</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Damon </span><span +class="smcap"><i>v.</i></span><span class="smcap"> +Pythias</span></p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page363">363</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">My Dream</span></p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page368">368</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The Bishop of Rum-ti-Foo +Again</span></p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page376">376</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">A Worm will Turn</span></p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page383">383</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The Haughty Actor</span></p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page391">391</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The Two Majors</span></p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page399">399</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Emily, John, James, And I</span></p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page405">405</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The Perils of Invisibility</span></p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page413">413</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Old Paul and Old Tim</span></p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page420">420</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The Mystic Selvagee</span></p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page426">426</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The Cunning Woman</span></p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page433">433</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Phrenology</span></p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page440">440</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The Fairy Curate</span></p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page446">446</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The Way of Wooing</span></p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page454">454</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Hongree and Mahry</span></p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page460">460</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Etiquette</span></p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page541">541</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +</table> +<h2><a name="page214"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 214</span>THE +BUMBOAT WOMAN’S STORY</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">I’m</span> old, my +dears, and shrivelled with age, and work, and grief,<br /> +My eyes are gone, and my teeth have been drawn by Time, the +Thief!<br /> +For terrible sights I’ve seen, and dangers great I’ve +run—<br /> +I’m nearly seventy now, and my work is almost done!</p> +<p class="poetry">Ah! I’ve been young in my time, and +I’ve played the deuce with men!<br /> +I’m speaking of ten years past—I was barely sixty +then:<br /> +My cheeks were mellow and soft, and my eyes were large and +sweet,<br /> +<span class="smcap">Poll Pineapple’s</span> eyes were the +standing toast of the Royal Fleet!</p> +<p class="poetry">A bumboat woman was I, and I faithfully served +the ships<br /> +With apples and cakes, and fowls, and beer, and halfpenny +dips,<br /> +And beef for the generous mess, where the officers dine at +nights,<br /> +And fine fresh peppermint drops for the rollicking +midshipmites.</p> +<p class="poetry">Of all the kind commanders who anchored in +Portsmouth Bay,<br /> +By far the sweetest of all was kind <span +class="smcap">Lieutenant Belaye</span>.’<br /> +<span class="smcap">Lieutenant Belaye</span> commanded the +gunboat <i>Hot Cross Bun</i>,<br /> +She was seven and thirty feet in length, and she carried a +gun.</p> +<p class="poetry">With a laudable view of enhancing his +country’s naval pride,<br /> +When people inquired her size, <span class="smcap">Lieutenant +Belaye</span> replied,<br /> +“Oh, my ship, my ship is the first of the Hundred and +Seventy-ones!”<br /> +Which meant her tonnage, but people imagined it meant her +guns.</p> +<p class="poetry">Whenever I went on board he would beckon me +down below,<br /> +“Come down, Little Buttercup, come” (for he loved to +call me so),<br /> +And he’d tell of the fights at sea in which he’d +taken a part,<br /> +And so <span class="smcap">Lieutenant Belaye</span> won poor +<span class="smcap">Poll Pineapple’s</span> heart!</p> +<p class="poetry">But at length his orders came, and he said one +day, said he,<br /> +“I’m ordered to sail with the <i>Hot Cross Bun</i> to +the German Sea.”<br /> +And the Portsmouth maidens wept when they learnt the evil day,<br +/> +For every Portsmouth maid loved good <span +class="smcap">Lieutenant Belaye</span>.</p> +<p class="poetry">And I went to a back back street, with plenty +of cheap cheap shops,<br /> +And I bought an oilskin hat and a second-hand suit of slops,<br +/> +And I went to <span class="smcap">Lieutenant Belaye</span> (and +he never suspected <i>me</i>!)<br /> +And I entered myself as a chap as wanted to go to sea.</p> +<p class="poetry">We sailed that afternoon at the mystic hour of +one,—<br /> +Remarkably nice young men were the crew of the <i>Hot Cross +Bun</i>,<br /> +I’m sorry to say that I’ve heard that sailors +sometimes swear,<br /> +But I never yet heard a <i>Bun</i> say anything wrong, I +declare.</p> +<p class="poetry">When Jack Tars meet, they meet with a +“Messmate, ho! What cheer?”<br /> +But here, on the <i>Hot Cross Bun</i>, it was “How do you +do, my dear?”<br /> +When Jack Tars growl, I believe they growl with a big big +D—<br /> +But the strongest oath of the <i>Hot Cross Buns</i> was a mild +“Dear me!”</p> +<p class="poetry">Yet, though they were all well-bred, you could +scarcely call them slick:<br /> +Whenever a sea was on, they were all extremely sick;<br /> +And whenever the weather was calm, and the wind was light and +fair,<br /> +They spent more time than a sailor should on his back back +hair.</p> +<p class="poetry">They certainly shivered and shook when ordered +aloft to run,<br /> +And they screamed when <span class="smcap">Lieutenant +Belaye</span> discharged his only gun.<br /> +And as he was proud of his gun—such pride is hardly +wrong—<br /> +The Lieutenant was blazing away at intervals all day long.</p> +<p class="poetry">They all agreed very well, though at times you +heard it said<br /> +That <span class="smcap">Bill</span> had a way of his own of +making his lips look red—<br /> +That <span class="smcap">Joe</span> looked quite his age—or +somebody might declare<br /> +That <span class="smcap">Barnacle’s</span> long pig-tail +was never his own own hair.</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Belaye</span> would admit +that his men were of no great use to him,<br /> +“But, then,” he would say, “there is little to +do on a gunboat trim<br /> +I can hand, and reef, and steer, and fire my big gun +too—<br /> +And it <i>is</i> such a treat to sail with a gentle well-bred +crew.”</p> +<p class="poetry">I saw him every day. How the happy +moments sped!<br /> +Reef topsails! Make all taut! There’s dirty +weather ahead!<br /> +(I do not mean that tempests threatened the <i>Hot Cross +Bun</i>:<br /> +In <i>that</i> case, I don’t know whatever we <i>should</i> +have done!)</p> +<p class="poetry">After a fortnight’s cruise, we put into +port one day,<br /> +And off on leave for a week went kind <span +class="smcap">Lieutenant Belaye</span>,<br /> +And after a long long week had passed (and it seemed like a +life),<br /> +<span class="smcap">Lieutenant Belaye</span> returned to his ship +with a fair young wife!</p> +<p class="poetry">He up, and he says, says he, “O crew of +the <i>Hot Cross Bun</i>,<br /> +Here is the wife of my heart, for the Church has made us +one!”<br /> +And as he uttered the word, the crew went out of their wits,<br +/> +And all fell down in so many separate fainting-fits.</p> +<p class="poetry">And then their hair came down, or off, as the +case might be,<br /> +And lo! the rest of the crew were simple girls, like me,<br /> +Who all had fled from their homes in a sailor’s blue +array,<br /> +To follow the shifting fate of kind <span +class="smcap">Lieutenant Belaye</span>.</p> +<p class="poetry">It’s strange to think that <i>I</i> +should ever have loved young men,<br /> +But I’m speaking of ten years past—I was barely sixty +then,<br /> +And now my cheeks are furrowed with grief and age, I trow!<br /> +And poor <span class="smcap">Poll Pineapple’s</span> eyes +have lost their lustre now!</p> +<h2><a name="page221"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 221</span>THE +TWO OGRES</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Good</span> children, list, +if you’re inclined,<br /> + And wicked children too—<br /> +This pretty ballad is designed<br /> + Especially for you.</p> +<p class="poetry">Two ogres dwelt in Wickham Wold—<br /> + Each <i>traits</i> distinctive had:<br /> +The younger was as good as gold,<br /> + The elder was as bad.</p> +<p class="poetry">A wicked, disobedient son<br /> + Was <span class="smcap">James M’Alpine</span>, +and<br /> +A contrast to the elder one,<br /> + Good <span class="smcap">Applebody Bland</span>.</p> +<p class="poetry"><span +class="smcap">M’Alpine</span>—brutes like him are +few—<br /> + In greediness delights,<br /> +A melancholy victim to<br /> + Unchastened appetites.</p> +<p class="poetry">Good, well-bred children every day<br /> + He ravenously ate,—<br /> +All boys were fish who found their way<br /> + Into <span +class="smcap">M’Alpine’s</span> net:</p> +<p class="poetry">Boys whose good breeding is innate,<br /> + Whose sums are always right;<br /> +And boys who don’t expostulate<br /> + When sent to bed at night;</p> +<p class="poetry">And kindly boys who never search<br /> + The nests of birds of song;<br /> +And serious boys for whom, in church,<br /> + No sermon is too long.</p> +<p class="poetry">Contrast with <span +class="smcap">James’s</span> greedy haste<br /> + And comprehensive hand,<br /> +The nice discriminating taste<br /> + Of <span class="smcap">Applebody Bland</span>.</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Bland</span> only eats bad +boys, who swear—<br /> + Who <i>can</i> behave, but +<i>don’t</i>—<br /> +Disgraceful lads who say “don’t care,”<br /> + And “shan’t,” and +“can’t,” and “won’t.”</p> +<p class="poetry">Who wet their shoes and learn to box,<br /> + And say what isn’t true,<br /> +Who bite their nails and jam their frocks,<br /> + And make long noses too;</p> +<p class="poetry">Who kick a nurse’s aged shin,<br /> + And sit in sulky mopes;<br /> +And boys who twirl poor kittens in<br /> + Distracting zoëtropes.</p> +<p class="poetry">But <span class="smcap">James</span>, when he +was quite a youth,<br /> + Had often been to school,<br /> +And though so bad, to tell the truth,<br /> + He wasn’t quite a fool.</p> +<p class="poetry">At logic few with him could vie;<br /> + To his peculiar sect<br /> +He could propose a fallacy<br /> + With singular effect.</p> +<p class="poetry">So, when his Mentors said, +“Expound—<br /> + Why eat good children—why?”<br /> +Upon his Mentors he would round<br /> + With this absurd reply:</p> +<p class="poetry">“I have been taught to love the +good—<br /> + The pure—the unalloyed—<br /> +And wicked boys, I’ve understood,<br /> + I always should avoid.</p> +<p class="poetry">“Why do I eat good children—why?<br +/> + Because I love them so!”<br /> +(But this was empty sophistry,<br /> + As your Papa can show.)</p> +<p class="poetry">Now, though the learning of his friends<br /> + Was truly not immense,<br /> +They had a way of fitting ends<br /> + By rule of common sense.</p> +<p class="poetry">“Away, away!” his Mentors cried,<br +/> + “Thou uncongenial pest!<br /> +A quirk’s a thing we can’t abide,<br /> + A quibble we detest!</p> +<p class="poetry">“A fallacy in your reply<br /> + Our intellect descries,<br /> +Although we don’t pretend to spy<br /> + Exactly where it lies.</p> +<p class="poetry">“In misery and penal woes<br /> + Must end a glutton’s joys;<br /> +And learn how ogres punish those<br /> + Who dare to eat good boys.</p> +<p class="poetry">“Secured by fetter, cramp, and chain,<br +/> + And gagged securely—so—<br /> +You shall be placed in Drury Lane,<br /> + Where only good lads go.</p> +<p class="poetry">“Surrounded there by virtuous boys,<br /> + You’ll suffer torture wus<br /> +Than that which constantly annoys<br /> + Disgraceful <span class="smcap">Tantalus</span>.</p> +<p class="poetry">(“If you would learn the woes that vex<br +/> + Poor <span class="smcap">Tantalus</span>, down +there,<br /> +Pray borrow of Papa an ex-<br /> +Purgated <span class="smcap">Lempriere</span>.)</p> +<p class="poetry">“But as for <span +class="smcap">Bland</span> who, as it seems,<br /> + Eats only naughty boys,<br /> +We’ve planned a recompense that teems<br /> + With gastronomic joys.</p> +<p class="poetry">“Where wicked youths in crowds are +stowed<br /> + He shall unquestioned rule,<br /> +And have the run of Hackney Road<br /> + Reformatory School!”</p> +<h2><a name="page229"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +229</span>LITTLE OLIVER</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Earl Joyce</span> he was a +kind old party<br /> + Whom nothing ever could put out,<br /> +Though eighty-two, he still was hearty,<br /> + Excepting as regarded gout.</p> +<p class="poetry">He had one unexampled daughter,<br /> + The <span class="smcap">Lady Minnie-haha +Joyce</span>,<br /> +Fair <span class="smcap">Minnie-haha</span>, “Laughing +Water,”<br /> + So called from her melodious voice.</p> +<p class="poetry">By Nature planned for lover-capture,<br /> + Her beauty every heart assailed;<br /> +The good old nobleman with rapture<br /> + Observed how widely she prevailed</p> +<p class="poetry">Aloof from all the lordly flockings<br /> + Of titled swells who worshipped her,<br /> +There stood, in pumps and cotton stockings,<br /> + One humble lover—<span +class="smcap">Oliver</span>.</p> +<p class="poetry">He was no peer by Fortune petted,<br /> + His name recalled no bygone age;<br /> +He was no lordling coronetted—<br /> + Alas! he was a simple page!</p> +<p class="poetry">With vain appeals he never bored her,<br /> + But stood in silent sorrow by—<br /> +He knew how fondly he adored her,<br /> + And knew, alas! how hopelessly!</p> +<p class="poetry">Well grounded by a village tutor<br /> + In languages alive and past,<br /> +He’d say unto himself, “Knee-suitor,<br /> + Oh, do not go beyond your last!”</p> +<p class="poetry">But though his name could boast no handle,<br +/> + He could not every hope resign;<br /> +As moths will hover round a candle,<br /> + So hovered he about her shrine.</p> +<p class="poetry">The brilliant candle dazed the moth well:<br /> + One day she sang to her Papa<br /> +The air that <span class="smcap">Marie</span> sings with <span +class="smcap">Bothwell</span><br /> + In <span class="smcap">Neidermeyer’s</span> +opera.</p> +<p class="poetry">(Therein a stable boy, it’s stated,<br /> + Devoutly loved a noble dame,<br /> +Who ardently reciprocated<br /> + His rather injudicious flame.)</p> +<p class="poetry">And then, before the piano closing<br /> + (He listened coyly at the door),<br /> +She sang a song of her composing—<br /> + I give one verse from half a score:</p> +<h3><span class="smcap">Ballad</span></h3> +<p class="poetry"><i>Why</i>, <i>pretty page</i>, <i>art ever +sighing</i>?<br /> +<i>Is sorrow in thy heartlet lying</i>?<br /> + <i>Come</i>, <i>set +a-ringing</i><br /> + <i>Thy laugh +entrancing</i>,<br /> + <i>And ever singing</i><br /> + <i>And ever +dancing</i>.<br /> + <i>Ever singing</i>, <i>Tra</i>! +<i>la</i>! <i>la</i>!<br /> + <i>Ever dancing</i>, <i>Tra</i>! +<i>la</i>! <i>la</i>!<br /> + <i>Ever +singing</i>, <i>ever dancing</i>,<br /> + <i>Ever +singing</i>, <i>Tra</i>! <i>la</i>! <i>la</i>!</p> +<p class="poetry">He skipped for joy like little muttons,<br /> + He danced like Esmeralda’s kid.<br /> +(She did not mean a boy in buttons,<br /> + Although he fancied that she did.)</p> +<p class="poetry">Poor lad! convinced he thus would win her,<br +/> + He wore out many pairs of soles;<br /> +He danced when taking down the dinner—<br /> + He danced when bringing up the coals.</p> +<p class="poetry">He danced and sang (however laden)<br /> + With his incessant “Tra! la! la!”<br /> +Which much surprised the noble maiden,<br /> + And puzzled even her Papa.</p> +<p class="poetry">He nourished now his flame and fanned it,<br /> + He even danced at work below.<br /> +The upper servants wouldn’t stand it,<br /> + And <span class="smcap">Bowles</span> the butler +told him so.</p> +<p class="poetry">At length on impulse acting blindly,<br /> + His love he laid completely bare;<br /> +The gentle Earl received him kindly<br /> + And told the lad to take a chair.</p> +<p class="poetry">“Oh, sir,” the suitor uttered +sadly,<br /> + “Don’t give your indignation vent;<br /> +I fear you think I’m acting madly,<br /> + Perhaps you think me insolent?”</p> +<p class="poetry">The kindly Earl repelled the notion;<br /> + His noble bosom heaved a sigh,<br /> +His fingers trembled with emotion,<br /> + A tear stood in his mild blue eye:</p> +<p class="poetry">For, oh! the scene recalled too plainly<br /> + The half-forgotten time when he,<br /> +A boy of nine, had worshipped vainly<br /> + A governess of forty-three!</p> +<p class="poetry">“My boy,” he said, in tone +consoling,<br /> + “Give up this idle fancy—do—<br /> +The song you heard my daughter trolling<br /> + Did not, indeed, refer to you.</p> +<p class="poetry">“I feel for you, poor boy, acutely;<br /> + I would not wish to give you pain;<br /> +Your pangs I estimate minutely,—<br /> + I, too, have loved, and loved in vain.</p> +<p class="poetry">“But still your humble rank and +station<br /> + For <span class="smcap">Minnie</span> surely are not +meet”—<br /> +He said much more in conversation<br /> + Which it were needless to repeat.</p> +<p class="poetry">Now I’m prepared to bet a guinea,<br /> + Were this a mere dramatic case,<br /> +The page would have eloped with <span +class="smcap">Minnie</span>,<br /> + But, no—he only left his place.</p> +<p class="poetry">The simple Truth is my detective,<br /> + With me Sensation can’t abide;<br /> +The Likely beats the mere Effective,<br /> + And Nature is my only guide.</p> +<h2><a name="page235"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +235</span>MISTER WILLIAM</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Oh</span>, listen to the +tale of <span class="smcap">Mister William</span>, if you +please,<br /> +Whom naughty, naughty judges sent away beyond the seas.<br /> +He forged a party’s will, which caused anxiety and +strife,<br /> +Resulting in his getting penal servitude for life.</p> +<p class="poetry">He was a kindly goodly man, and naturally +prone,<br /> +Instead of taking others’ gold, to give away his own.<br /> +But he had heard of Vice, and longed for only once to +strike—<br /> +To plan <i>one</i> little wickedness—to see what it was +like.</p> +<p class="poetry">He argued with himself, and said, “A +spotless man am I;<br /> +I can’t be more respectable, however hard I try!<br /> +For six and thirty years I’ve always been as good as +gold,<br /> +And now for half an hour I’ll plan infamy untold!</p> +<p class="poetry">“A baby who is wicked at the early age of +one,<br /> +And then reforms—and dies at thirty-six a spotless son,<br +/> +Is never, never saddled with his babyhood’s defect,<br /> +But earns from worthy men consideration and respect.</p> +<p class="poetry">“So one who never revelled in +discreditable tricks<br /> +Until he reached the comfortable age of thirty-six,<br /> +May then for half an hour perpetrate a deed of shame,<br /> +Without incurring permanent disgrace, or even blame.</p> +<p class="poetry">“That babies don’t commit such +crimes as forgery is true,<br /> +But little sins develop, if you leave ’em to accrue;<br /> +And he who shuns all vices as successive seasons roll,<br /> +Should reap at length the benefit of so much self-control.</p> +<p class="poetry">“The common sin of +babyhood—objecting to be drest—<br /> +If you leave it to accumulate at compound interest,<br /> +For anything you know, may represent, if you’re alive,<br +/> +A burglary or murder at the age of thirty-five.</p> +<p class="poetry">“Still, I wouldn’t take advantage +of this fact, but be content<br /> +With some pardonable folly—it’s a mere experiment.<br +/> +The greater the temptation to go wrong, the less the sin;<br /> +So with something that’s particularly tempting I’ll +begin.</p> +<p class="poetry">“I would not steal a penny, for my +income’s very fair—<br /> +I do not want a penny—I have pennies and to spare—<br +/> +And if I stole a penny from a money-bag or till,<br /> +The sin would be enormous—the temptation being +<i>nil</i>.</p> +<p class="poetry">“But if I broke asunder all such +pettifogging bounds,<br /> +And forged a party’s Will for (say) Five Hundred Thousand +Pounds,<br /> +With such an irresistible temptation to a haul,<br /> +Of course the sin must be infinitesimally small.</p> +<p class="poetry">“There’s <span +class="smcap">Wilson</span> who is dying—he has wealth from +Stock and rent—<br /> +If I divert his riches from their natural descent,<br /> +I’m placed in a position to indulge each little +whim.”<br /> +So he diverted them—and they, in turn, diverted him.</p> +<p class="poetry">Unfortunately, though, by some unpardonable +flaw,<br /> +Temptation isn’t recognized by Britain’s Common +Law;<br /> +Men found him out by some peculiarity of touch,<br /> +And <span class="smcap">William</span> got a “lifer,” +which annoyed him very much.</p> +<p class="poetry">For, ah! he never reconciled himself to life in +gaol,<br /> +He fretted and he pined, and grew dispirited and pale;<br /> +He was numbered like a cabman, too, which told upon him so<br /> +That his spirits, once so buoyant, grew uncomfortably low.</p> +<p class="poetry">And sympathetic gaolers would remark, +“It’s very true,<br /> +He ain’t been brought up common, like the likes of me and +you.”<br /> +So they took him into hospital, and gave him mutton chops,<br /> +And chocolate, and arrowroot, and buns, and malt and hops.</p> +<p class="poetry">Kind Clergymen, besides, grew interested in his +fate,<br /> +Affected by the details of his pitiable state.<br /> +They waited on the Secretary, somewhere in Whitehall,<br /> +Who said he would receive them any day they liked to call.</p> +<p class="poetry">“Consider, sir, the hardship of this +interesting case:<br /> +A prison life brings with it something very like disgrace;<br /> +It’s telling on young <span class="smcap">William</span>, +who’s reduced to skin and bone—<br /> +Remember he’s a gentleman, with money of his own.</p> +<p class="poetry">“He had an ample income, and of course he +stands in need<br /> +Of sherry with his dinner, and his customary weed;<br /> +No delicacies now can pass his gentlemanly lips—<br /> +He misses his sea-bathing and his continental trips.</p> +<p class="poetry">“He says the other prisoners are +commonplace and rude;<br /> +He says he cannot relish uncongenial prison food.<br /> +When quite a boy they taught him to distinguish Good from Bad,<br +/> +And other educational advantages he’s had.</p> +<p class="poetry">“A burglar or garotter, or, indeed, a +common thief<br /> +Is very glad to batten on potatoes and on beef,<br /> +Or anything, in short, that prison kitchens can afford,—<br +/> +A cut above the diet in a common workhouse ward.</p> +<p class="poetry">“But beef and mutton-broth don’t +seem to suit our <span class="smcap">William’s</span> +whim,<br /> +A boon to other prisoners—a punishment to him.<br /> +It never was intended that the discipline of gaol<br /> +Should dash a convict’s spirits, sir, or make him thin or +pale.”</p> +<p class="poetry">“Good Gracious Me!” that +sympathetic Secretary cried,<br /> +“Suppose in prison fetters <span class="smcap">Mister +William</span> should have died!<br /> +Dear me, of course! Imprisonment for <i>Life</i> his +sentence saith:<br /> +I’m very glad you mentioned it—it might have been For +Death!</p> +<p class="poetry">“Release him with a +ticket—he’ll be better then, no doubt,<br /> +And tell him I apologize.” So <span +class="smcap">Mister William’s</span> out.<br /> +I hope he will be careful in his manuscripts, I’m sure,<br +/> +And not begin experimentalizing any more.</p> +<h2><a name="page242"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +242</span>PASHA BAILEY BEN</h2> +<p class="poetry">A <span class="smcap">proud</span> Pasha was +<span class="smcap">Bailey Ben</span>,<br /> +His wives were three, his tails were ten;<br /> +His form was dignified, but stout,<br /> +Men called him “Little Roundabout.”</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>His Importance</i></p> +<p class="poetry">Pale Pilgrims came from o’er the sea<br +/> +To wait on <span class="smcap">Pasha Bailey</span> B.,<br /> +All bearing presents in a crowd,<br /> +For B. was poor as well as proud.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>His Presents</i></p> +<p class="poetry">They brought him onions strung on ropes,<br /> +And cold boiled beef, and telescopes,<br /> +And balls of string, and shrimps, and guns,<br /> +And chops, and tacks, and hats, and buns.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>More of them</i></p> +<p class="poetry">They brought him white kid gloves, and +pails,<br /> +And candlesticks, and potted quails,<br /> +And capstan-bars, and scales and weights,<br /> +And ornaments for empty grates.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>Why I mention these</i></p> +<p class="poetry">My tale is not of these—oh no!<br /> +I only mention them to show<br /> +The divers gifts that divers men<br /> +Brought o’er the sea to <span class="smcap">Bailey +Ben</span>.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>His Confidant</i></p> +<p class="poetry">A confidant had <span +class="smcap">Bailey</span> B.,<br /> +A gay Mongolian dog was he;<br /> +I am not good at Turkish names,<br /> +And so I call him <span class="smcap">Simple James</span>.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>His Confidant’s +Countenance</i></p> +<p class="poetry">A dreadful legend you might trace<br /> +In <span class="smcap">Simple James’s</span> honest +face,<br /> +For there you read, in Nature’s print,<br /> +“A Scoundrel of the Deepest Tint.”</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>His Character</i></p> +<p class="poetry">A deed of blood, or fire, or flames,<br /> +Was meat and drink to <span class="smcap">Simple James</span>:<br +/> +To hide his guilt he did not plan,<br /> +But owned himself a bad young man.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>The Author to his Reader</i></p> +<p class="poetry">And why on earth good <span +class="smcap">Bailey Ben</span><br /> +(The wisest, noblest, best of men)<br /> +Made <span class="smcap">Simple James</span> his right-hand +man<br /> +Is quite beyond my mental span.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>The same</i>, +<i>continued</i></p> +<p class="poetry">But there—enough of gruesome deeds!<br /> +My heart, in thinking of them, bleeds;<br /> +And so let <span class="smcap">Simple James</span> take +wing,—<br /> +’Tis not of him I’m going to sing.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>The Pasha’s Clerk</i></p> +<p class="poetry">Good <span class="smcap">Pasha Bailey</span> +kept a clerk<br /> +(For <span class="smcap">Bailey</span> only made his mark),<br /> +His name was <span class="smcap">Matthew Wycombe Coo</span>,<br +/> +A man of nearly forty-two.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>His Accomplishments</i></p> +<p class="poetry">No person that I ever knew<br /> +Could “yödel” half as well as <span +class="smcap">Coo</span>,<br /> +And Highlanders exclaimed, “Eh, weel!”<br /> +When <span class="smcap">Coo</span> began to dance a reel.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>His Kindness to the +Pasha’s Wives</i></p> +<p class="poetry">He used to dance and sing and play<br /> +In such an unaffected way,<br /> +He cheered the unexciting lives<br /> +Of <span class="smcap">Pasha Bailey’s</span> lovely +wives.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>The Author to his Reader</i></p> +<p class="poetry">But why should I encumber you<br /> +With histories of <span class="smcap">Matthew Coo</span>?<br /> +Let <span class="smcap">Matthew Coo</span> at once take +wing,—<br /> +’Tis not of <span class="smcap">Coo</span> I’m going +to sing.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>The Author’s Muse</i></p> +<p class="poetry">Let me recall my wandering Muse;<br /> +She <i>shall</i> be steady if I choose—<br /> +She roves, instead of helping me<br /> +To tell the deeds of <span class="smcap">Bailey</span> B.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>The Pasha’s +Visitor</i></p> +<p class="poetry">One morning knocked, at half-past eight,<br /> +A tall Red Indian at his gate.<br /> +In Turkey, as you’re p’raps aware,<br /> +Red Indians are extremely rare.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>The Visitor’s +Outfit</i></p> +<p class="poetry">Mocassins decked his graceful legs,<br /> +His eyes were black, and round as eggs,<br /> +And on his neck, instead of beads,<br /> +Hung several Catawampous seeds.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>What the Visitor said</i></p> +<p class="poetry">“Ho, ho!” he said, “thou +pale-faced one,<br /> +Poor offspring of an Eastern sun,<br /> +You’ve <i>never</i> seen the Red Man skip<br /> +Upon the banks of Mississip!”</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>The Author’s +Moderation</i></p> +<p class="poetry">To say that <span class="smcap">Bailey</span> +oped his eyes<br /> +Would feebly paint his great surprise—<br /> +To say it almost made him die<br /> +Would be to paint it much too high.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>The Author to his Reader</i></p> +<p class="poetry">But why should I ransack my head<br /> +To tell you all that Indian said;<br /> +We’ll let the Indian man take wing,—<br /> +’Tis not of him I’m going to sing.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>The Reader to the Author</i></p> +<p class="poetry">Come, come, I say, that’s quite enough<br +/> +Of this absurd disjointed stuff;<br /> +Now let’s get on to that affair<br /> +About <span class="smcap">Lieutenant-Colonel Flare</span>.</p> +<h2><a name="page248"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +248</span>LIEUTENANT-COLONEL FLARE</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">The</span> earth has armies +plenty,<br /> + And semi-warlike bands,<br /> +I dare say there are twenty<br /> + In European lands;<br /> +But, oh! in no direction<br /> + You’d find one to compare<br /> +In brotherly affection<br /> + With that of <span class="smcap">Colonel +Flare</span>.</p> +<p class="poetry">His soldiers might be rated<br /> + As military Pearls.<br /> +As unsophisticated<br /> + As pretty little girls!<br /> +They never smoked or ratted,<br /> + Or talked of Sues or Polls;<br /> +The Sergeant-Major tatted,<br /> + The others nursed their dolls.</p> +<p class="poetry">He spent his days in teaching<br /> + These truly solemn facts;<br /> +There’s little use in preaching,<br /> + Or circulating tracts.<br /> +(The vainest plan invented<br /> + For stifling other creeds,<br /> +Unless it’s supplemented<br /> + With charitable <i>deeds</i>.)</p> +<p class="poetry">He taught his soldiers kindly<br /> + To give at Hunger’s call:<br /> +“Oh, better far give blindly,<br /> + Than never give at all!<br /> +Though sympathy be kindled<br /> + By Imposition’s game,<br /> +Oh, better far be swindled<br /> + Than smother up its flame!”</p> +<p class="poetry">His means were far from ample<br /> + For pleasure or for dress,<br /> +Yet note this bright example<br /> + Of single-heartedness:<br /> +Though ranking as a Colonel,<br /> + His pay was but a groat,<br /> +While their reward diurnal<br /> + Was—each a five-pound note.</p> +<p class="poetry">Moreover,—this evinces<br /> + His kindness, you’ll allow,—<br /> +He fed them all like princes,<br /> + And lived himself on cow.<br /> +He set them all regaling<br /> + On curious wines, and dear,<br /> +While he would sit pale-ale-ing,<br /> + Or quaffing ginger-beer.</p> +<p class="poetry">Then at his instigation<br /> + (A pretty fancy this)<br /> +Their daily pay and ration<br /> + He’d take in change for his;<br /> +They brought it to him weekly,<br /> + And he without a groan,<br /> +Would take it from them meekly<br /> + And give them all his own!</p> +<p class="poetry">Though not exactly knighted<br /> + As knights, of course, should be,<br /> +Yet no one so delighted<br /> + In harmless chivalry.<br /> +If peasant girl or ladye<br /> + Beneath misfortunes sank,<br /> +Whate’er distinctions made he,<br /> + They were not those of rank.</p> +<p class="poetry">No maiden young and comely<br /> + Who wanted good advice<br /> +(However poor or homely)<br /> + Need ask him for it twice.<br /> +He’d wipe away the blindness<br /> + That comes of teary dew;<br /> +His sympathetic kindness<br /> + No sort of limit knew.</p> +<p class="poetry">He always hated dealing<br /> + With men who schemed or planned;<br /> +A person harsh—unfeeling—<br /> + The Colonel could not stand.<br /> +He hated cold, suspecting,<br /> + Official men in blue,<br /> +Who pass their lives detecting<br /> + The crimes that others do.</p> +<p class="poetry">For men who’d shoot a sparrow,<br /> + Or immolate a worm<br /> +Beneath a farmer’s harrow,<br /> + He could not find a term.<br /> +Humanely, ay, and knightly<br /> + He dealt with such an one;<br /> +He took and tied him tightly,<br /> + And blew him from a gun.</p> +<p class="poetry">The earth has armies plenty,<br /> + And semi-warlike bands,<br /> +I’m certain there are twenty<br /> + In European lands;<br /> +But, oh! in no direction<br /> + You’d find one to compare<br /> +In brotherly affection<br /> + With that of <span class="smcap">Colonel +Flare</span>.</p> +<h2><a name="page256"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 256</span>LOST +MR. BLAKE</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Mr. Blake</span> was a +regular out-and-out hardened sinner,<br /> + Who was quite out of the pale of Christianity, so to +speak,<br /> +He was in the habit of smoking a long pipe and drinking a glass +of grog on a Sunday after dinner,<br /> +And seldom thought of going to church more than twice or—if +Good Friday or Christmas Day happened to come in it—three +times a week.</p> +<p class="poetry">He was quite indifferent as to the particular +kinds of dresses<br /> + That the clergyman wore at church where he used to +go to pray,<br /> +And whatever he did in the way of relieving a chap’s +distresses,<br /> + He always did in a nasty, sneaking, underhanded, +hole-and-corner sort of way.</p> +<p class="poetry">I have known him indulge in profane, +ungentlemanly emphatics,<br /> + When the Protestant Church has been divided on the +subject of the proper width of a chasuble’s hem;<br /> +I have even known him to sneer at albs—and as for +dalmatics,<br /> + Words can’t convey an idea of the contempt he +expressed for <i>them</i>.</p> +<p class="poetry">He didn’t believe in persons who, not +being well off themselves, are obliged to confine their +charitable exertions to collecting money from wealthier +people,<br /> + And looked upon individuals of the former class as +ecclesiastical hawks;<br /> +He used to say that he would no more think of interfering with +his priest’s robes than with his church or his steeple,<br +/> + And that he did not consider his soul imperilled +because somebody over whom he had no influence whatever, chose to +dress himself up like an exaggerated <span class="smcap">Guy +Fawkes</span>.</p> +<p class="poetry">This shocking old vagabond was so unutterably +shameless<br /> + That he actually went a-courting a very respectable +and pious middle-aged sister, by the name of <span +class="smcap">Biggs</span>.<br /> +She was a rather attractive widow, whose life as such had always +been particularly blameless;<br /> + Her first husband had left her a secure but moderate +competence, owing to some fortunate speculations in the matter of +figs.</p> +<p class="poetry">She was an excellent person in every +way—and won the respect even of <span class="smcap">Mrs. +Grundy</span>,<br /> + She was a good housewife, too, and wouldn’t +have wasted a penny if she had owned the Koh-i-noor.<br /> +She was just as strict as he was lax in her observance of +Sunday,<br /> + And being a good economist, and charitable besides, +she took all the bones and cold potatoes and broken pie-crusts +and candle-ends (when she had quite done with them), and made +them into an excellent soup for the deserving poor.</p> +<p class="poetry">I am sorry to say that she rather took to <span +class="smcap">Blake</span>—that outcast of society,<br /> + And when respectable brothers who were fond of her +began to look dubious and to cough,<br /> +She would say, “Oh, my friends, it’s because I hope +to bring this poor benighted soul back to virtue and +propriety,”<br /> + And besides, the poor benighted soul, with all his +faults, was uncommonly well off.</p> +<p class="poetry">And when <span class="smcap">Mr. +Blake’s</span> dissipated friends called his attention to +the frown or the pout of her,<br /> + Whenever he did anything which appeared to her to +savour of an unmentionable place,<br /> +He would say that “she would be a very decent old girl when +all that nonsense was knocked out of her,”<br /> + And his method of knocking it out of her is one that +covered him with disgrace.</p> +<p class="poetry">She was fond of going to church services four +times every Sunday, and, four or five times in the week, and +never seemed to pall of them,<br /> + So he hunted out all the churches within a +convenient distance that had services at different hours, so to +speak;<br /> +And when he had married her he positively insisted upon their +going to all of them,<br /> + So they contrived to do about twelve churches every +Sunday, and, if they had luck, from twenty-two to twenty-three in +the course of the week.</p> +<p class="poetry">She was fond of dropping his sovereigns +ostentatiously into the plate, and she liked to see them stand +out rather conspicuously against the commonplace half-crowns and +shillings,<br /> + So he took her to all the charity sermons, and if by +any extraordinary chance there wasn’t a charity sermon +anywhere, he would drop a couple of sovereigns (one for him and +one for her) into the poor-box at the door;<br /> +And as he always deducted the sums thus given in charity from the +housekeeping money, and the money he allowed her for her bonnets +and frillings,<br /> + She soon began to find that even charity, if you +allow it to interfere with your personal luxuries, becomes an +intolerable bore.</p> +<p class="poetry">On Sundays she was always melancholy and +anything but good society,<br /> + For that day in her household was a day of sighings +and sobbings and wringing of hands and shaking of heads:<br /> +She wouldn’t hear of a button being sewn on a glove, +because it was a work neither of necessity nor of piety,<br /> + And strictly prohibited her servants from amusing +themselves, or indeed doing anything at all except dusting the +drawing-rooms, cleaning the boots and shoes, cooking the parlour +dinner, waiting generally on the family, and making the beds.</p> +<p class="poetry">But <span class="smcap">Blake</span> even went +further than that, and said that people should do their own works +of necessity, and not delegate them to persons in a menial +situation,<br /> + So he wouldn’t allow his servants to do so +much as even answer a bell.<br /> +Here he is making his wife carry up the water for her bath to the +second floor, much against her inclination,—<br /> + And why in the world the gentleman who illustrates +these ballads has put him in a cocked hat is more than I can +tell.</p> +<p class="poetry">After about three months of this sort of thing, +taking the smooth with the rough of it,<br /> + (Blacking her own boots and peeling her own potatoes +was not her notion of connubial bliss),<br /> +<span class="smcap">Mrs. Blake</span> began to find that she had +pretty nearly had enough of it,<br /> + And came, in course of time, to think that <span +class="smcap">Blake’s</span> own original line of conduct +wasn’t so much amiss.</p> +<p class="poetry">And now that wicked person—that +detestable sinner (“<span class="smcap">Belial +Blake</span>” his friends and well-wishers call him for his +atrocities),<br /> + And his poor deluded victim, whom all her Christian +brothers dislike and pity so,<br /> +Go to the parish church only on Sunday morning and afternoon and +occasionally on a week-day, and spend their evenings in connubial +fondlings and affectionate reciprocities,<br /> + And I should like to know where in the world (or +rather, out of it) they expect to go!</p> +<h2><a name="page265"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 265</span>THE +BABY’S VENGEANCE</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Weary</span> at heart and +extremely ill<br /> +Was <span class="smcap">Paley Vollaire</span> of +Bromptonville,<br /> +In a dirty lodging, with fever down,<br /> +Close to the Polygon, Somers Town.</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Paley Vollaire</span> was +an only son<br /> +(For why? His mother had had but one),<br /> +And <span class="smcap">Paley</span> inherited gold and +grounds<br /> +Worth several hundred thousand pounds.</p> +<p class="poetry">But he, like many a rich young man,<br /> +Through this magnificent fortune ran,<br /> +And nothing was left for his daily needs<br /> +But duplicate copies of mortgage-deeds.</p> +<p class="poetry">Shabby and sorry and sorely sick,<br /> +He slept, and dreamt that the clock’s “tick, +tick,”<br /> +Was one of the Fates, with a long sharp knife,<br /> +Snicking off bits of his shortened life.</p> +<p class="poetry">He woke and counted the pips on the walls,<br +/> +The outdoor passengers’ loud footfalls,<br /> +And reckoned all over, and reckoned again,<br /> +The little white tufts on his counterpane.</p> +<p class="poetry">A medical man to his bedside came.<br /> +(I can’t remember that doctor’s name),<br /> +And said, “You’ll die in a very short while<br /> +If you don’t set sail for Madeira’s isle.”</p> +<p class="poetry">“Go to Madeira? goodness me!<br /> +I haven’t the money to pay your fee!”<br /> +“Then, <span class="smcap">Paley Vollaire</span>,” +said the leech, “good bye;<br /> +I’ll come no more, for you’re sure to die.”</p> +<p class="poetry">He sighed and he groaned and smote his +breast;<br /> +“Oh, send,” said he, “for <span +class="smcap">Frederick West</span>,<br /> +Ere senses fade or my eyes grow dim:<br /> +I’ve a terrible tale to whisper him!”</p> +<p class="poetry">Poor was <span +class="smcap">Frederick’s</span> lot in life,—<br /> +A dustman he with a fair young wife,<br /> +A worthy man with a hard-earned store,<br /> +A hundred and seventy pounds—or more.</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Frederick</span> came, and +he said, “Maybe<br /> +You’ll say what you happened to want with me?”<br /> +“Wronged boy,” said <span class="smcap">Paley +Vollaire</span>, “I will,<br /> +But don’t you fidget yourself—sit still.”</p> +<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p> +<p class="poetry">“’Tis now some thirty-seven years +ago<br /> + Since first began the plot that I’m +revealing,<br /> +A fine young woman, whom you ought to know,<br /> + Lived with her husband down in Drum Lane, Ealing.<br +/> +Herself by means of mangling reimbursing,<br /> +And now and then (at intervals) wet-nursing.</p> +<p class="poetry">“Two little babes dwelt in their humble +cot:<br /> + One was her own—the other only lent to her:<br +/> +<i>Her own she slighted</i>. Tempted by a lot<br /> + Of gold and silver regularly sent to her,<br /> +She ministered unto the little other<br /> +In the capacity of foster-mother.</p> +<p class="poetry">“<i>I was her own</i>. Oh! how I +lay and sobbed<br /> + In my poor cradle—deeply, deeply cursing<br /> +The rich man’s pampered bantling, who had robbed<br /> + My only birthright—an attentive nursing!<br /> +Sometimes in hatred of my foster-brother,<br /> +I gnashed my gums—which terrified my mother.</p> +<p class="poetry">“One day—it was quite early in the +week—<br /> + I <i>in</i> <span class="GutSmall">MY</span> +<i>cradle having placed the bantling</i>—<br /> +Crept into his! He had not learnt to speak,<br /> + But I could see his face with anger mantling.<br /> +It was imprudent—well, disgraceful maybe,<br /> +For, oh! I was a bad, black-hearted baby!</p> +<p class="poetry">“So great a luxury was food, I think<br +/> + No wickedness but I was game to try for it.<br /> +<i>Now</i> if I wanted anything to drink<br /> + At any time, I only had to cry for it!<br /> +<i>Once</i>, if I dared to weep, the bottle lacking,<br /> +My blubbering involved a serious smacking!</p> +<p class="poetry">“We grew up in the usual way—my +friend,<br /> + My foster-brother, daily growing thinner,<br /> +While gradually I began to mend,<br /> + And thrived amazingly on double dinner.<br /> +And every one, besides my foster-mother,<br /> +Believed that either of us was the other.</p> +<p class="poetry">“I came into <i>his</i> wealth—I +bore <i>his</i> name,<br /> + I bear it still—<i>his</i> property I +squandered—<br /> +I mortgaged everything—and now (oh, shame!)<br /> + Into a Somers Town shake-down I’ve +wandered!<br /> +I am no <span class="smcap">Paley</span>—no, <span +class="smcap">Vollaire</span>—it’s true, my boy!<br +/> +The only rightful <span class="smcap">Paley</span> V. is +<i>you</i>, my boy!</p> +<p class="poetry">“And all I have is yours—and yours +is mine.<br /> + I still may place you in your true position:<br /> +Give me the pounds you’ve saved, and I’ll resign<br +/> + My noble name, my rank, and my condition.<br /> +So far my wickedness in falsely owning<br /> +Your vasty wealth, I am at last atoning!”</p> +<p style="text-align: center">* * * * * * *</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Frederick</span> he was a +simple soul,<br /> +He pulled from his pocket a bulky roll,<br /> +And gave to <span class="smcap">Paley</span> his hard-earned +store,<br /> +A hundred and seventy pounds or more.</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Paley Vollaire</span>, with +many a groan,<br /> +Gave <span class="smcap">Frederick</span> all that he called his +own,—<br /> +Two shirts and a sock, and a vest of jean,<br /> +A Wellington boot and a bamboo cane.</p> +<p class="poetry">And <span class="smcap">Fred</span> (entitled +to all things there)<br /> +He took the fever from <span class="smcap">Mr. +Vollaire</span>,<br /> +Which killed poor <span class="smcap">Frederick +West</span>. Meanwhile<br /> +<span class="smcap">Vollaire</span> sailed off to Madeira’s +isle.</p> +<h2><a name="page273"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 273</span>THE +CAPTAIN AND THE MERMAIDS</h2> +<p class="poetry">I <span class="smcap">sing</span> a legend of +the sea,<br /> +So hard-a-port upon your lee!<br /> + A ship on starboard tack!<br /> +She’s bound upon a private cruise—<br /> +(This is the kind of spice I use<br /> + To give a salt-sea smack).</p> +<p class="poetry">Behold, on every afternoon<br /> +(Save in a gale or strong Monsoon)<br /> + Great <span class="smcap">Captain +Capel Cleggs</span><br /> +(Great morally, though rather short)<br /> +Sat at an open weather-port<br /> + And aired his shapely legs.</p> +<p class="poetry">And Mermaids hung around in flocks,<br /> +On cable chains and distant rocks,<br /> + To gaze upon those limbs;<br /> +For legs like those, of flesh and bone,<br /> +Are things “not generally known”<br /> + To any Merman <span +class="smcap">Timbs</span>.</p> +<p class="poetry">But Mermen didn’t seem to care<br /> +Much time (as far as I’m aware)<br /> + With <span +class="smcap">Cleggs’s</span> legs to spend;<br /> +Though Mermaids swam around all day<br /> +And gazed, exclaiming, “<i>That’s</i> the way<br /> + A gentleman should end!</p> +<p class="poetry">“A pair of legs with well-cut knees,<br +/> +And calves and ankles such as these<br /> + Which we in rapture hail,<br /> +Are far more eloquent, it’s clear<br /> +(When clothed in silk and kerseymere),<br /> + Than any nasty tail.”</p> +<p class="poetry">And <span class="smcap">Cleggs</span>—a +worthy kind old boy—<br /> +Rejoiced to add to others’ joy,<br /> + And, when the day was dry,<br /> +Because it pleased the lookers-on,<br /> +He sat from morn till night—though con-<br /> + Stitutionally shy.</p> +<p class="poetry">At first the Mermen laughed, “Pooh! +pooh!”<br /> +But finally they jealous grew,<br /> + And sounded loud recalls;<br /> +But vainly. So these fishy males<br /> +Declared they too would clothe their tails<br /> + In silken hose and smalls.</p> +<p class="poetry">They set to work, these water-men,<br /> +And made their nether robes—but when<br /> + They drew with dainty touch<br /> +The kerseymere upon their tails,<br /> +They found it scraped against their scales,<br /> + And hurt them very much.</p> +<p class="poetry">The silk, besides, with which they chose<br /> +To deck their tails by way of hose<br /> + (They never thought of shoon),<br +/> +For such a use was much too thin,—<br /> +It tore against the caudal fin,<br /> + And “went in ladders” +soon.</p> +<p class="poetry">So they designed another plan:<br /> +They sent their most seductive man<br /> + This note to him to show—<br +/> +“Our Monarch sends to <span class="smcap">Captain +Cleggs</span><br /> +His humble compliments, and begs<br /> + He’ll join him down +below;</p> +<p class="poetry">“We’ve pleasant homes below the +sea—<br /> +Besides, if <span class="smcap">Captain Cleggs</span> should +be<br /> + (As our advices say)<br /> +A judge of Mermaids, he will find<br /> +Our lady-fish of every kind<br /> + Inspection will repay.”</p> +<p class="poetry">Good <span class="smcap">Capel</span> sent a +kind reply,<br /> +For <span class="smcap">Capel</span> thought he could descry<br +/> + An admirable plan<br /> +To study all their ways and laws—<br /> +(But not their lady-fish, because<br /> + He was a married man).</p> +<p class="poetry">The Merman sank—the Captain too<br /> +Jumped overboard, and dropped from view<br /> + Like stone from catapult;<br /> +And when he reached the Merman’s lair,<br /> +He certainly was welcomed there,<br /> + But, ah! with what result?</p> +<p class="poetry">They didn’t let him learn their law,<br +/> +Or make a note of what he saw,<br /> + Or interesting mem.:<br /> +The lady-fish he couldn’t find,<br /> +But that, of course, he didn’t mind—<br /> + He didn’t come for them.</p> +<p class="poetry">For though, when <span class="smcap">Captain +Capel</span> sank,<br /> +The Mermen drawn in double rank<br /> + Gave him a hearty hail,<br /> +Yet when secure of <span class="smcap">Captain Cleggs</span>,<br +/> +They cut off both his lovely legs,<br /> + And gave him <i>such</i> a +tail!</p> +<p class="poetry">When <span class="smcap">Captain Cleggs</span> +returned aboard,<br /> +His blithesome crew convulsive roar’d,<br /> + To see him altered so.<br /> +The Admiralty did insist<br /> +That he upon the Half-pay List<br /> + Immediately should go.</p> +<p class="poetry">In vain declared the poor old salt,<br /> +“It’s my misfortune—not my fault,”<br /> + With tear and trembling +lip—<br /> +In vain poor <span class="smcap">Capel</span> begged and +begged.<br /> +“A man must be completely legged<br /> + Who rules a British +ship.”</p> +<p class="poetry">So spake the stern First Lord aloud—<br +/> +He was a wag, though very proud,<br /> + And much rejoiced to say,<br /> +“You’re only half a captain now—<br /> +And so, my worthy friend, I vow<br /> + You’ll only get +half-pay!”</p> +<h2><a name="page280"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +280</span>ANNIE PROTHEROE</h2> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">A LEGEND OF +STRATFORD-LE-BOW</span></p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Oh</span>! listen to the +tale of little <span class="smcap">Annie Protheroe</span>.<br /> +She kept a small post-office in the neighbourhood of <span +class="smcap">Bow</span>;<br /> +She loved a skilled mechanic, who was famous in his day—<br +/> +A gentle executioner whose name was <span class="smcap">Gilbert +Clay</span>.</p> +<p class="poetry">I think I hear you say, “A dreadful +subject for your rhymes!”<br /> +O reader, do not shrink—he didn’t live in modern +times!<br /> +He lived so long ago (the sketch will show it at a glance)<br /> +That all his actions glitter with the lime-light of Romance.</p> +<p class="poetry">In busy times he laboured at his gentle craft +all day—<br /> +“No doubt you mean his Cal-craft,” you amusingly will +say—<br /> +But, no—he didn’t operate with common bits of +string,<br /> +He was a Public Headsman, which is quite another thing.</p> +<p class="poetry">And when his work was over, they would ramble +o’er the lea,<br /> +And sit beneath the frondage of an elderberry tree,<br /> +And <span class="smcap">Annie’s</span> simple prattle +entertained him on his walk,<br /> +For public executions formed the subject of her talk.</p> +<p class="poetry">And sometimes he’d explain to her, which +charmed her very much,<br /> +How famous operators vary very much in touch,<br /> +And then, perhaps, he’d show how he himself performed the +trick,<br /> +And illustrate his meaning with a poppy and a stick.</p> +<p class="poetry">Or, if it rained, the little maid would stop at +home, and look<br /> +At his favourable notices, all pasted in a book,<br /> +And then her cheek would flush—her swimming eyes would +dance with joy<br /> +In a glow of admiration at the prowess of her boy.</p> +<p class="poetry">One summer eve, at supper-time, the gentle +<span class="smcap">Gilbert</span> said<br /> +(As he helped his pretty <span class="smcap">Annie</span> to a +slice of collared head),<br /> +“This reminds me I must settle on the next ensuing day<br +/> +The hash of that unmitigated villain <span class="smcap">Peter +Gray</span>.”</p> +<p class="poetry">He saw his <span class="smcap">Annie</span> +tremble and he saw his <span class="smcap">Annie</span> start,<br +/> +Her changing colour trumpeted the flutter at her heart;<br /> +Young <span class="smcap">Gilbert’s</span> manly bosom rose +and sank with jealous fear,<br /> +And he said, “O gentle <span class="smcap">Annie</span>, +what’s the meaning of this here?”</p> +<p class="poetry">And <span class="smcap">Annie</span> answered, +blushing in an interesting way,<br /> +“You think, no doubt, I’m sighing for that felon +<span class="smcap">Peter Gray</span>:<br /> +That I was his young woman is unquestionably true,<br /> +But not since I began a-keeping company with you.”</p> +<p class="poetry">Then <span class="smcap">Gilbert</span>, who +was irritable, rose and loudly swore<br /> +He’d know the reason why if she refused to tell him +more;<br /> +And she answered (all the woman in her flashing from her eyes)<br +/> +“You mustn’t ask no questions, and you won’t be +told no lies!</p> +<p class="poetry">“Few lovers have the privilege enjoyed, +my dear, by you,<br /> +Of chopping off a rival’s head and quartering him too!<br +/> +Of vengeance, dear, to-morrow you will surely take your +fill!”<br /> +And <span class="smcap">Gilbert</span> ground his molars as he +answered her, “I will!”</p> +<p class="poetry">Young <span class="smcap">Gilbert</span> rose +from table with a stern determined look,<br /> +And, frowning, took an inexpensive hatchet from its hook;<br /> +And <span class="smcap">Annie</span> watched his movements with +an interested air—<br /> +For the morrow—for the morrow he was going to prepare!</p> +<p class="poetry">He chipped it with a hammer and he chopped it +with a bill,<br /> +He poured sulphuric acid on the edge of it, until<br /> +This terrible Avenger of the Majesty of Law<br /> +Was far less like a hatchet than a dissipated saw.</p> +<p class="poetry">And <span class="smcap">Annie</span> said, +“O <span class="smcap">Gilbert</span>, dear, I do not +understand<br /> +Why ever you are injuring that hatchet in your hand?”<br /> +He said, “It is intended for to lacerate and flay<br /> +The neck of that unmitigated villain <span class="smcap">Peter +Gray</span>!”</p> +<p class="poetry">“Now, <span +class="smcap">Gilbert</span>,” <span +class="smcap">Annie</span> answered, “wicked headsman, just +beware—<br /> +I won’t have <span class="smcap">Peter</span> tortured with +that horrible affair;<br /> +If you appear with that, you may depend you’ll rue the +day.”<br /> +But <span class="smcap">Gilbert</span> said, “Oh, shall +I?” which was just his nasty way.</p> +<p class="poetry">He saw a look of anger from her eyes distinctly +dart,<br /> +For <span class="smcap">Annie</span> was a <i>woman</i>, and had +pity in her heart!<br /> +She wished him a good evening—he answered with a glare;<br +/> +She only said, “Remember, for your <span +class="smcap">Annie</span> will be there!”</p> +<p style="text-align: center">* * * * * * * *</p> +<p class="poetry">The morrow <span class="smcap">Gilbert</span> +boldly on the scaffold took his stand,<br /> +With a vizor on his face and with a hatchet in his hand,<br /> +And all the people noticed that the Engine of the Law<br /> +Was far less like a hatchet than a dissipated saw.</p> +<p class="poetry">The felon very coolly loosed his collar and his +stock,<br /> +And placed his wicked head upon the handy little block.<br /> +The hatchet was uplifted for to settle <span class="smcap">Peter +Gray</span>,<br /> +When <span class="smcap">Gilbert</span> plainly heard a +woman’s voice exclaiming, “Stay!”</p> +<p class="poetry">’Twas <span class="smcap">Annie</span>, +gentle <span class="smcap">Annie</span>, as you’ll easily +believe.<br /> +“O <span class="smcap">Gilbert</span>, you must spare him, +for I bring him a reprieve,<br /> +It came from our Home Secretary many weeks ago,<br /> +And passed through that post-office which I used to keep at +Bow.</p> +<p class="poetry">“I loved you, loved you madly, and you +know it, <span class="smcap">Gilbert Clay</span>,<br /> +And as I’d quite surrendered all idea of <span +class="smcap">Peter Gray</span>,<br /> +I quietly suppressed it, as you’ll clearly understand,<br +/> +For I thought it might be awkward if he came and claimed my +hand.</p> +<p class="poetry">“In anger at my secret (which I could not +tell before),<br /> +To lacerate poor <span class="smcap">Peter Gray</span> +vindictively you swore;<br /> +I told you if you used that blunted axe you’d rue the +day,<br /> +And so you will, young <span class="smcap">Gilbert</span>, for +I’ll marry <span class="smcap">Peter +Gray</span>!”</p> +<p style="text-align: right">[<i>And so she did</i>.</p> +<h2><a name="page287"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 287</span>AN +UNFORTUNATE LIKENESS</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">I’ve</span> painted +<span class="smcap">Shakespeare</span> all my life—<br /> + “An infant” (even then at +“play”!)<br /> +“A boy,” with stage-ambition rife,<br /> + Then “Married to <span class="smcap">Ann +Hathaway</span>.”</p> +<p class="poetry">“The bard’s first ticket +night” (or “ben.”),<br /> + His “First appearance on the stage,”<br +/> +His “Call before the curtain”—then<br /> + “Rejoicings when he came of age.”</p> +<p class="poetry">The bard play-writing in his room,<br /> + The bard a humble lawyer’s clerk.<br /> +The bard a lawyer <a name="citation287a"></a><a +href="#footnote287a" class="citation">[287a]</a>—parson <a +name="citation287b"></a><a href="#footnote287b" +class="citation">[287b]</a>—groom <a +name="citation287c"></a><a href="#footnote287c" +class="citation">[287c]</a>—<br /> + The bard deer-stealing, after dark.</p> +<p class="poetry">The bard a tradesman <a +name="citation288a"></a><a href="#footnote288a" +class="citation">[288a]</a>—and a Jew <a +name="citation288b"></a><a href="#footnote288b" +class="citation">[288b]</a>—<br /> + The bard a botanist <a name="citation288c"></a><a +href="#footnote288c" class="citation">[288c]</a>—a beak <a +name="citation288d"></a><a href="#footnote288d" +class="citation">[288d]</a>—<br /> +The bard a skilled musician <a name="citation288e"></a><a +href="#footnote288e" class="citation">[288e]</a> too—<br /> + A sheriff <a name="citation288f"></a><a +href="#footnote288f" class="citation">[288f]</a> and a surgeon <a +name="citation288g"></a><a href="#footnote288g" +class="citation">[288g]</a> eke!</p> +<p class="poetry">Yet critics say (a friendly stock)<br /> + That, though it’s evident I try,<br /> +Yet even I can barely mock<br /> + The glimmer of his wondrous eye!</p> +<p class="poetry">One morning as a work I framed,<br /> + There passed a person, walking hard:<br /> +“My gracious goodness,” I exclaimed,<br /> + “How very like my dear old bard!</p> +<p class="poetry">“Oh, what a model he would +make!”<br /> + I rushed outside—impulsive me!—<br /> +“Forgive the liberty I take,<br /> + But you’re so +very”—“Stop!” said he.</p> +<p class="poetry">“You needn’t waste your breath or +time,—<br /> + I know what you are going to say,—<br /> +That you’re an artist, and that I’m<br /> + Remarkably like <span +class="smcap">Shakespeare</span>. Eh?</p> +<p class="poetry">“You wish that I would sit to +you?”<br /> + I clasped him madly round the waist,<br /> +And breathlessly replied, “I do!”<br /> + “All right,” said he, “but please +make haste.”</p> +<p class="poetry">I led him by his hallowed sleeve,<br /> + And worked away at him apace,<br /> +I painted him till dewy eve,—<br /> + There never was a nobler face!</p> +<p class="poetry">“Oh, sir,” I said, “a fortune +grand<br /> + Is yours, by dint of merest chance,—<br /> +To sport <i>his</i> brow at second-hand,<br /> + To wear <i>his</i> cast-off countenance!</p> +<p class="poetry">“To rub <i>his</i> eyes whene’er +they ache—<br /> + To wear <i>his</i> baldness ere you’re +old—<br /> +To clean <i>his</i> teeth when you awake—<br /> + To blow <i>his</i> nose when you’ve a +cold!”</p> +<p class="poetry">His eyeballs glistened in his eyes—<br /> + I sat and watched and smoked my pipe;<br /> +“Bravo!” I said, “I recognize<br /> + The phrensy of your prototype!”</p> +<p class="poetry">His scanty hair he wildly tore:<br /> + “That’s right,” said I, “it +shows your breed.”<br /> +He danced—he stamped—he wildly swore—<br /> + “Bless me, that’s very fine +indeed!”</p> +<p class="poetry">“Sir,” said the grand Shakesperian +boy<br /> + (Continuing to blaze away),<br /> +“You think my face a source of joy;<br /> + That shows you know not what you say.</p> +<p class="poetry">“Forgive these yells and cellar-flaps:<br +/> + I’m always thrown in some such state<br /> +When on his face well-meaning chaps<br /> + This wretched man congratulate.</p> +<p class="poetry">“For, oh! this face—this pointed +chin—<br /> + This nose—this brow—these eyeballs +too,<br /> +Have always been the origin<br /> + Of all the woes I ever knew!</p> +<p class="poetry">“If to the play my way I find,<br /> + To see a grand Shakesperian piece,<br /> +I have no rest, no ease of mind<br /> + Until the author’s puppets cease.</p> +<p class="poetry">“Men nudge each +other—thus—and say,<br /> + ‘This certainly is <span +class="smcap">Shakespeare’s</span> son,’<br /> +And merry wags (of course in play)<br /> + Cry ‘Author!’ when the piece is +done.</p> +<p class="poetry">“In church the people stare at me,<br /> + Their soul the sermon never binds;<br /> +I catch them looking round to see,<br /> + And thoughts of <span +class="smcap">Shakespeare</span> fill their minds.</p> +<p class="poetry">“And sculptors, fraught with cunning +wile,<br /> + Who find it difficult to crown<br /> +A bust with <span class="smcap">Brown’s</span> insipid +smile,<br /> + Or <span class="smcap">Tomkins’s</span> +unmannered frown,</p> +<p class="poetry">“Yet boldly make my face their own,<br /> + When (oh, presumption!) they require<br /> +To animate a paving-stone<br /> + With <span class="smcap">Shakespeare’s</span> +intellectual fire.</p> +<p class="poetry">“At parties where young ladies gaze,<br +/> + And I attempt to speak my joy,<br /> +‘Hush, pray,’ some lovely creature says,<br /> + ‘The fond illusion don’t +destroy!’</p> +<p class="poetry">“Whene’er I speak, my soul is +wrung<br /> + With these or some such whisperings:<br /> +‘’Tis pity that a <span +class="smcap">Shakespeare’s</span> tongue<br /> + Should say such un-Shakesperian things!’</p> +<p class="poetry">“I should not thus be criticised<br /> + Had I a face of common wont:<br /> +Don’t envy me—now, be advised!”<br /> + And, now I think of it, I don’t!</p> +<h2><a name="page294"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +294</span>GREGORY PARABLE, LL.D.</h2> +<p class="poetry">A <span class="smcap">leafy</span> cot, where +no dry rot<br /> +Had ever been by tenant seen,<br /> +Where ivy clung and wopses stung,<br /> +Where beeses hummed and drummed and strummed,<br /> +Where treeses grew and breezes blew—<br /> +A thatchy roof, quite waterproof,<br /> +Where countless herds of dicky-birds<br /> +Built twiggy beds to lay their heads<br /> +(My mother begs I’ll make it “eggs,”<br /> +But though it’s true that dickies do<br /> +Construct a nest with chirpy noise,<br /> +With view to rest their eggy joys,<br /> +’Neath eavy sheds, yet eggs and beds,<br /> +As I explain to her in vain<br /> +Five hundred times, are faulty rhymes).<br /> +’Neath such a cot, built on a plot<br /> +Of freehold land, dwelt <span class="smcap">Mary</span> and<br /> +Her worthy father, named by me<br /> +<span class="smcap">Gregory Parable</span>, LL.D.</p> +<p class="poetry">He knew no guile, this simple man,<br /> +No worldly wile, or plot, or plan,<br /> +Except that plot of freehold land<br /> +That held the cot, and <span class="smcap">Mary</span>, and<br /> +Her worthy father, named by me<br /> +<span class="smcap">Gregory Parable</span>, LL.D.</p> +<p class="poetry">A grave and learned scholar he,<br /> +Yet simple as a child could be.<br /> +He’d shirk his meal to sit and cram<br /> +A goodish deal of Eton Gram.<br /> +No man alive could him nonplus<br /> +With vocative of <i>filius</i>;<br /> +No man alive more fully knew<br /> +The passive of a verb or two;<br /> +None better knew the worth than he<br /> +Of words that end in <i>b</i>, <i>d</i>, <i>t</i>.<br /> +Upon his green in early spring<br /> +He might be seen endeavouring<br /> +To understand the hooks and crooks<br /> +Of <span class="smcap">Henry</span> and his Latin books;<br /> +Or calling for his “Cæsar on<br /> +The Gallic War,” like any don;<br /> +Or, p’raps, expounding unto all<br /> +How mythic <span class="smcap">Balbus</span> built a wall.<br /> +So lived the sage who’s named by me<br /> +<span class="smcap">Gregory Parable</span>, LL.D.</p> +<p class="poetry">To him one autumn day there came<br /> +A lovely youth of mystic name:<br /> +He took a lodging in the house,<br /> +And fell a-dodging snipe and grouse,<br /> +For, oh! that mild scholastic one<br /> +Let shooting for a single gun.</p> +<p class="poetry">By three or four, when sport was o’er,<br +/> +The Mystic One laid by his gun,<br /> +And made sheep’s eyes of giant size,<br /> +Till after tea, at <span class="smcap">Mary</span> P.<br /> +And <span class="smcap">Mary</span> P. (so kind was she),<br /> +She, too, made eyes of giant size,<br /> +Whose every dart right through the heart<br /> +Appeared to run that Mystic One.<br /> +The Doctor’s whim engrossing him,<br /> +He did not know they flirted so.<br /> +For, save at tea, “<i>musa musæ</i>,”<br /> +As I’m advised, monopolised<br /> +And rendered blind his giant mind.<br /> +But looking up above his cup<br /> +One afternoon, he saw them spoon.<br /> +“Aha!” quoth he, “you naughty lass!<br /> +As quaint old <span class="smcap">Ovid</span> says, +‘Amas!’”</p> +<p class="poetry">The Mystic Youth avowed the truth,<br /> +And, claiming ruth, he said, “In sooth<br /> +I love your daughter, aged man:<br /> +Refuse to join us if you can.<br /> +Treat not my offer, sir, with scorn,<br /> +I’m wealthy though I’m lowly born.”<br /> +“Young sir,” the aged scholar said,<br /> +“I never thought you meant to wed:<br /> +Engrossed completely with my books,<br /> +I little noticed lovers’ looks.<br /> +I’ve lived so long away from man,<br /> +I do not know of any plan<br /> +By which to test a lover’s worth,<br /> +Except, perhaps, the test of birth.<br /> +I’ve half forgotten in this wild<br /> +A father’s duty to his child.<br /> +It is his place, I think it’s said,<br /> +To see his daughters richly wed<br /> +To dignitaries of the earth—<br /> +If possible, of noble birth.<br /> +If noble birth is not at hand,<br /> +A father may, I understand<br /> +(And this affords a chance for you),<br /> +Be satisfied to wed her to<br /> +A <span class="smcap">Boucicault</span> or <span +class="smcap">Baring</span>—which<br /> +Means any one who’s very rich.<br /> +Now, there’s an Earl who lives hard by,—<br /> +My child and I will go and try<br /> +If he will make the maid his bride—<br /> +If not, to you she shall be tied.”</p> +<p class="poetry">They sought the Earl that very day;<br /> +The Sage began to say his say.<br /> +The Earl (a very wicked man,<br /> +Whose face bore Vice’s blackest ban)<br /> +Cut short the scholar’s simple tale,<br /> +And said in voice to make them quail,<br /> +“Pooh! go along! you’re drunk, no doubt—<br /> +Here, <span class="smcap">Peters</span>, turn these people +out!”</p> +<p class="poetry">The Sage, rebuffed in mode uncouth,<br /> +Returning, met the Mystic Youth.<br /> +“My darling boy,” the Scholar said,<br /> +“Take <span class="smcap">Mary</span>—blessings on +your head!”</p> +<p class="poetry">The Mystic Boy undid his vest,<br /> +And took a parchment from his breast,<br /> +And said, “Now, by that noble brow,<br /> +I ne’er knew father such as thou!<br /> +The sterling rule of common sense<br /> +Now reaps its proper recompense.<br /> +Rejoice, my soul’s unequalled Queen,<br /> +For I am <span class="smcap">Duke of Gretna +Green</span>!”</p> +<h2><a name="page301"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 301</span>THE +KING OF CANOODLE-DUM</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">The</span> story of <span +class="smcap">Frederick Gowler</span>,<br /> + A mariner of the sea,<br /> +Who quitted his ship, the <i>Howler</i>,<br /> + A-sailing in Caribbee.<br /> +For many a day he wandered,<br /> + Till he met in a state of rum<br /> +<span class="smcap">Calamity Pop Von Peppermint Drop</span>,<br +/> + The King of Canoodle-Dum.</p> +<p class="poetry">That monarch addressed him gaily,<br /> + “Hum! Golly de do to-day?<br /> +Hum! Lily-white Buckra Sailee”—<br /> + (You notice his playful way?)—<br /> +“What dickens you doin’ here, sar?<br /> + Why debbil you want to come?<br /> +Hum! Picaninnee, dere isn’t no sea<br /> + In City Canoodle-Dum!”</p> +<p class="poetry">And <span class="smcap">Gowler</span> he +answered sadly,<br /> + “Oh, mine is a doleful tale!<br /> +They’ve treated me werry badly<br /> + In Lunnon, from where I hail.<br /> +I’m one of the Family Royal—<br /> + No common Jack Tar you see;<br /> +I’m <span class="smcap">William the Fourth</span>, far up +in the North,<br /> + A King in my own countree!”</p> +<p class="poetry">Bang-bang! How the tom-toms thundered!<br +/> + Bang-bang! How they thumped this gongs!<br /> +Bang-bang! How the people wondered!<br /> + Bang-bang! At it hammer and tongs!<br /> +Alliance with Kings of Europe<br /> + Is an honour Canoodlers seek,<br /> +Her monarchs don’t stop with <span class="smcap">Peppermint +Drop</span><br /> + Every day in the week!</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Fred</span> told them that +he was <i>un</i>done,<br /> + For his people all went insane,<br /> +And fired the Tower of London,<br /> + And Grinnidge’s Naval Fane.<br /> +And some of them racked St. James’s,<br /> + And vented their rage upon<br /> +The Church of St. Paul, the Fishmongers’ Hall,<br /> + And the Angel at Islington.</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Calamity Pop</span> +implored him<br /> + In his capital to remain<br /> +Till those people of his restored him<br /> + To power and rank again.<br /> +<span class="smcap">Calamity Pop</span> he made him<br /> + A Prince of Canoodle-Dum,<br /> +With a couple of caves, some beautiful slaves,<br /> + And the run of the royal rum.</p> +<p class="poetry">Pop gave him his only daughter,<br /> + <span class="smcap">Hum Pickety Wimple +Tip</span>:<br /> +<span class="smcap">Fred</span> vowed that if over the water<br +/> + He went, in an English ship,<br /> +He’d make her his Queen,—though truly<br /> + It is an unusual thing<br /> +For a Caribbee brat who’s as black as your hat<br /> + To be wife of an English King.</p> +<p class="poetry">And all the Canoodle-Dummers<br /> + They copied his rolling walk,<br /> +His method of draining rummers,<br /> + His emblematical talk.<br /> +For his dress and his graceful breeding,<br /> + His delicate taste in rum,<br /> +And his nautical way, were the talk of the day<br /> + In the Court of Canoodle-Dum.</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Calamity Pop</span> most +wisely<br /> + Determined in everything<br /> +To model his Court precisely<br /> + On that of the English King;<br /> +And ordered that every lady<br /> + And every lady’s lord<br /> +Should masticate jacky (a kind of tobaccy),<br /> + And scatter its juice abroad.</p> +<p class="poetry">They signified wonder roundly<br /> + At any astounding yarn,<br /> +By darning their dear eyes roundly<br /> + (’T was all they had to darn).<br /> +They “hoisted their slacks,” adjusting<br /> + Garments of plantain-leaves<br /> +With nautical twitches (as if they wore breeches,<br /> + Instead of a dress like <span +class="smcap">Eve’s</span>!)</p> +<p class="poetry">They shivered their timbers proudly,<br /> + At a phantom forelock dragged,<br /> +And called for a hornpipe loudly<br /> + Whenever amusement flagged.<br /> +“Hum! Golly! him <span class="smcap">Pop</span> +resemble,<br /> + Him Britisher sov’reign, hum!<br /> +<span class="smcap">Calamity Pop Von Peppermint Drop</span>,<br +/> + De King of Canoodle-Dum!”</p> +<p class="poetry">The mariner’s lively +“Hollo!”<br /> + Enlivened Canoodle’s plain<br /> +(For blessings unnumbered follow<br /> + In Civilization’s train).<br /> +But Fortune, who loves a bathos,<br /> + A terrible ending planned,<br /> +For <span class="smcap">Admiral D. Chickabiddy</span>, C.B.,<br +/> + Placed foot on Canoodle land!</p> +<p class="poetry">That rebel, he seized <span class="smcap">King +Gowler</span>,<br /> + He threatened his royal brains,<br /> +And put him aboard the <i>Howler</i>,<br /> + And fastened him down with chains.<br /> +The <i>Howler</i> she weighed her anchor,<br /> + With <span class="smcap">Frederick</span> nicely +nailed,<br /> +And off to the North with <span class="smcap">William the +Fourth</span><br /> + These horrible pirates sailed.</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Calamity</span> said (with +folly),<br /> + “Hum! nebber want him again—<br /> +Him civilize all of us, golly!<br /> + <span class="smcap">Calamity</span> suck him +brain!”<br /> +The people, however, were pained when<br /> + They saw him aboard his ship,<br /> +But none of them wept for their <span +class="smcap">Freddy</span>, except<br /> + <span class="smcap">Hum Pickety Wimple +Tip</span>.</p> +<h2><a name="page309"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +309</span>FIRST LOVE</h2> +<p class="poetry">A <span class="smcap">clergyman</span> in +Berkshire dwelt,<br /> + The <span class="smcap">Reverend Bernard +Powles</span>,<br /> +And in his church there weekly knelt<br /> + At least a hundred souls.</p> +<p class="poetry">There little <span class="smcap">Ellen</span> +you might see,<br /> + The modest rustic belle;<br /> +In maidenly simplicity,<br /> + She loved her <span class="smcap">Bernard</span> +well.</p> +<p class="poetry">Though <span class="smcap">Ellen</span> wore a +plain silk gown<br /> + Untrimmed with lace or fur,<br /> +Yet not a husband in the town<br /> + But wished his wife like her.</p> +<p class="poetry">Though sterner memories might fade,<br /> + You never could forget<br /> +The child-form of that baby-maid,<br /> + The Village Violet!</p> +<p class="poetry">A simple frightened loveliness,<br /> + Whose sacred spirit-part<br /> +Shrank timidly from worldly stress,<br /> + And nestled in your heart.</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Powles</span> woo’d +with every well-worn plan<br /> + And all the usual wiles<br /> +With which a well-schooled gentleman<br /> + A simple heart beguiles.</p> +<p class="poetry">The hackneyed compliments that bore<br /> + World-folks like you and me,<br /> +Appeared to her as if they wore<br /> + The crown of Poesy.</p> +<p class="poetry">His winking eyelid sang a song<br /> + Her heart could understand,<br /> +Eternity seemed scarce too long<br /> + When <span class="smcap">Bernard</span> squeezed her +hand.</p> +<p class="poetry">He ordered down the martial crew<br /> + Of <span class="smcap">Godfrey’s</span> +Grenadiers,<br /> +And <span class="smcap">Coote</span> conspired with <span +class="smcap">Tinney</span> to<br /> + Ecstaticise her ears.</p> +<p class="poetry">Beneath her window, veiled from eye,<br /> + They nightly took their stand;<br /> +On birthdays supplemented by<br /> + The Covent Garden band.</p> +<p class="poetry">And little <span class="smcap">Ellen</span>, +all alone,<br /> + Enraptured sat above,<br /> +And thought how blest she was to own<br /> + The wealth of <span +class="smcap">Powles’s</span> love.</p> +<p class="poetry">I often, often wonder what<br /> + Poor <span class="smcap">Ellen</span> saw in him;<br +/> +For calculated he was <i>not</i><br /> + To please a woman’s whim.</p> +<p class="poetry">He wasn’t good, despite the air<br /> + An M.B. waistcoat gives;<br /> +Indeed, his dearest friends declare<br /> + No greater humbug lives.</p> +<p class="poetry">No kind of virtue decked this priest,<br /> + He’d nothing to allure;<br /> +He wasn’t handsome in the least,—<br /> + He wasn’t even poor.</p> +<p class="poetry">No—he was cursed with acres fat<br /> + (A Christian’s direst ban),<br /> +And gold—yet, notwithstanding that,<br /> + Poor <span class="smcap">Ellen</span> loved the +man.</p> +<p class="poetry">As unlike <span class="smcap">Bernard</span> as +could be<br /> + Was poor old <span class="smcap">Aaron +Wood</span><br /> +(Disgraceful <span class="smcap">Bernard’s</span> curate +he):<br /> + He was extremely good.</p> +<p class="poetry">A <span class="smcap">Bayard</span> in his +moral pluck<br /> + Without reproach or fear,<br /> +A quiet venerable duck<br /> + With fifty pounds a year.</p> +<p class="poetry">No fault had he—no fad, except<br /> + A tendency to strum,<br /> +In mode at which you would have wept,<br /> + A dull harmonium.</p> +<p class="poetry">He had no gold with which to hire<br /> + The minstrels who could best<br /> +Convey a notion of the fire<br /> + That raged within his breast.</p> +<p class="poetry">And so, when <span class="smcap">Coote</span> +and <span class="smcap">Tinney’s</span> Own<br /> + Had tootled all they knew,<br /> +And when the Guards, completely blown,<br /> + Exhaustedly withdrew,</p> +<p class="poetry">And <span class="smcap">Nell</span> began to +sleepy feel,<br /> + Poor <span class="smcap">Aaron</span> then would +come,<br /> +And underneath her window wheel<br /> + His plain harmonium.</p> +<p class="poetry">He woke her every morn at two,<br /> + And having gained her ear,<br /> +In vivid colours <span class="smcap">Aaron</span> drew<br /> + The sluggard’s grim career.</p> +<p class="poetry">He warbled Apiarian praise,<br /> + And taught her in his chant<br /> +To shun the dog’s pugnacious ways,<br /> + And imitate the ant.</p> +<p class="poetry">Still <span class="smcap">Nell</span> seemed +not, how much he played,<br /> + To love him out and out,<br /> +Although the admirable maid<br /> + Respected him, no doubt.</p> +<p class="poetry">She told him of her early vow,<br /> + And said as <span +class="smcap">Bernard’s</span> wife<br /> +It might be hers to show him how<br /> + To rectify his life.</p> +<p class="poetry">“You are so pure, so kind, so true,<br /> + Your goodness shines so bright,<br /> +What use would <span class="smcap">Ellen</span> be to you?<br /> + Believe me, you’re all right.”</p> +<p class="poetry">She wished him happiness and health,<br /> + And flew on lightning wings<br /> +To <span class="smcap">Bernard</span> with his dangerous +wealth<br /> + And all the woes it brings.</p> +<h2><a name="page317"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +317</span>BRAVE ALUM BEY</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Oh</span>, big was the +bosom of brave <span class="smcap">Alum Bey</span>,<br /> +And also the region that under it lay,<br /> +In safety and peril remarkably cool,<br /> +And he dwelt on the banks of the river Stamboul.</p> +<p class="poetry">Each morning he went to his garden, to cull<br +/> +A bunch of zenana or sprig of bul-bul,<br /> +And offered the bouquet, in exquisite bloom,<br /> +To <span class="smcap">Backsheesh</span>, the daughter of <span +class="smcap">Rahat Lakoum</span>.</p> +<p class="poetry">No maiden like <span +class="smcap">Backsheesh</span> could tastily cook<br /> +A kettle of kismet or joint of tchibouk,<br /> +As <span class="smcap">Alum</span>, brave fellow! sat pensively +by,<br /> +With a bright sympathetic ka-bob in his eye.</p> +<p class="poetry">Stern duty compelled him to leave her one +day—<br /> +(A ship’s supercargo was brave <span class="smcap">Alum +Bey</span>)—<br /> +To pretty young <span class="smcap">Backsheesh</span> he made a +salaam,<br /> +And sailed to the isle of Seringapatam.</p> +<p class="poetry">“O <span +class="smcap">Alum</span>,” said she, “think again, +ere you go—<br /> +Hareems may arise and Moguls they may blow;<br /> +You may strike on a fez, or be drowned, which is wuss!”<br +/> +But <span class="smcap">Alum</span> embraced her and spoke to her +thus:</p> +<p class="poetry">“Cease weeping, fair <span +class="smcap">Backsheesh</span>! I willingly swear<br /> +Cork jackets and trousers I always will wear,<br /> +And I also throw in a large number of oaths<br /> +That I never—no, <i>never</i>—will take off my +clothes!”</p> +<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p> +<p class="poetry">They left Madagascar away on their right,<br /> +And made Clapham Common the following night,<br /> +Then lay on their oars for a fortnight or two,<br /> +Becalmed in the ocean of Honololu.</p> +<p class="poetry">One day <span class="smcap">Alum</span> saw, +with alarm in his breast,<br /> +A cloud on the nor-sow-sow-nor-sow-nor-west;<br /> +The wind it arose, and the crew gave a scream,<br /> +For they knew it—they knew it!—the dreaded +Hareem!!</p> +<p class="poetry">The mast it went over, and so did the sails,<br +/> +Brave <span class="smcap">Alum</span> threw over his casks and +his bales;<br /> +The billows arose as the weather grew thick,<br /> +And all except <span class="smcap">Alum</span> were terribly +sick.</p> +<p class="poetry">The crew were but three, but they +holloa’d for nine,<br /> +They howled and they blubbered with wail and with whine:<br /> +The skipper he fainted away in the fore,<br /> +For he hadn’t the heart for to skip any more.</p> +<p class="poetry">“Ho, coward!” said <span +class="smcap">Alum</span>, “with heart of a child!<br /> +Thou son of a party whose grave is defiled!<br /> +Is <span class="smcap">Alum</span> in terror? is <span +class="smcap">Alum</span> afeard?<br /> +Ho! ho! If you had one I’d laugh at your +beard.”</p> +<p class="poetry">His eyeball it gleamed like a furnace of +coke;<br /> +He boldly inflated his clothes as he spoke;<br /> +He daringly felt for the corks on his chest,<br /> +And he recklessly tightened the belt at his breast.</p> +<p class="poetry">For he knew, the brave <span +class="smcap">Alum</span>, that, happen what might,<br /> +With belts and cork-jacketing, <i>he</i> was all right;<br /> +Though others might sink, he was certain to swim,—<br /> +No Hareem whatever had terrors for him!</p> +<p class="poetry">They begged him to spare from his personal +store<br /> +A single cork garment—they asked for no more;<br /> +But he couldn’t, because of the number of oaths<br /> +That he never—no, never!—would take off his +clothes.</p> +<p class="poetry">The billows dash o’er them and topple +around,<br /> +They see they are pretty near sure to be drowned.<br /> +A terrible wave o’er the quarter-deck breaks,<br /> +And the vessel it sinks in a couple of shakes!</p> +<p class="poetry">The dreadful Hareem, though it knows how to +blow,<br /> +Expends all its strength in a minute or so;<br /> +When the vessel had foundered, as I have detailed,<br /> +The tempest subsided, and quiet prevailed.</p> +<p class="poetry">One seized on a cork with a yelling “Ha! +ha!”<br /> +(Its bottle had ’prisoned a pint of Pacha)—<br /> +Another a toothpick—another a tray—<br /> +“Alas! it is useless!” said brave <span +class="smcap">Alum Bey</span>.</p> +<p class="poetry">“To holloa and kick is a very bad +plan:<br /> +Get it over, my tulips, as soon as you can;<br /> +You’d better lay hold of a good lump of lead,<br /> +And cling to it tightly until you are dead.</p> +<p class="poetry">“Just raise your hands over your pretty +heads—so—<br /> +Right down to the bottom you’re certain to go.<br /> +Ta! ta! I’m afraid we shall not meet +again”—<br /> +For the truly courageous are truly humane.</p> +<p class="poetry">Brave <span class="smcap">Alum</span> was +picked up the very next day—<br /> +A man-o’-war sighted him smoking away;<br /> +With hunger and cold he was ready to drop,<br /> +So they sent him below and they gave him a chop.</p> +<p class="poetry">O reader, or readress, whichever you be,<br /> +You weep for the crew who have sunk in the sea?<br /> +O reader, or readress, read farther, and dry<br /> +The bright sympathetic ka-bob in your eye.</p> +<p class="poetry">That ship had a grapple with three iron +spikes,—<br /> +It’s lowered, and, ha! on a something it strikes!<br /> +They haul it aboard with a British “heave-ho!”<br /> +And what it has fished the drawing will show.</p> +<p class="poetry">There was <span class="smcap">Wilson</span>, +and <span class="smcap">Parker</span>, and <span +class="smcap">Tomlinson</span>, too—<br /> +(The first was the captain, the others the crew)—<br /> +As lively and spry as a Malabar ape,<br /> +Quite pleased and surprised at their happy escape.</p> +<p class="poetry">And <span class="smcap">Alum</span>, brave +fellow, who stood in the fore,<br /> +And never expected to look on them more,<br /> +Was really delighted to see them again,<br /> +For the truly courageous are truly humane.</p> +<h2><a name="page324"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 324</span>SIR +BARNABY BAMPTON BOO</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">This</span> is <span +class="smcap">Sir Barnaby Bampton Boo</span>,<br /> + Last of a noble race,<br /> +<span class="smcap">Barnaby Bampton</span>, coming to woo,<br /> + All at a deuce of a pace.<br /> + + +<span class="smcap">Barnaby Bampton Boo</span>,<br /> + + +Here is a health to you:<br /> + Here is wishing you luck, you +elderly buck—<br /> + + +<span class="smcap">Barnaby Bampton Boo</span>!</p> +<p class="poetry">The excellent women of Tuptonvee<br /> + Knew <span class="smcap">Sir Barnaby Boo</span>;<br +/> +One of them surely his bride would be,<br /> + But dickens a soul knew who.<br /> + + +Women of Tuptonvee,<br /> + + +Here is a health to ye<br /> + For a Baronet, dears, you would +cut off your ears,<br /> + + +Women of Tuptonvee!</p> +<p class="poetry">Here are old <span class="smcap">Mr</span>. and +<span class="smcap">Mrs. de Plow</span><br /> + (<span class="smcap">Peter</span> his Christian +name),<br /> +They kept seven oxen, a pig, and a cow—<br /> + Farming it was their game.<br /> + + +Worthy old <span class="smcap">Peter de Plow</span>,<br /> + + +Here is a health to thou:<br /> + Your race isn’t run, though +you’re seventy-one,<br /> + + +Worthy old <span class="smcap">Peter de Plow</span>!</p> +<p class="poetry">To excellent <span class="smcap">Mr</span>. and +<span class="smcap">Mrs. de Plow</span><br /> + Came <span class="smcap">Sir Barnaby Boo</span>,<br +/> +He asked for their daughter, and told ’em as how<br /> + He was as rich as a Jew.<br /> + + +<span class="smcap">Barnaby Bampton’s</span> wealth,<br /> + + +Here is your jolly good health:<br /> + I’d never repine if you came +to be mine,<br /> + + +<span class="smcap">Barnaby Bampton’s</span> wealth!</p> +<p class="poetry">“O great <span class="smcap">Sir Barnaby +Bampton Boo</span>”<br /> + (Said <span class="smcap">Plow</span> to that titled +swell),<br /> +“My missus has given me daughters two—<br /> + <span class="smcap">Amelia</span> and <span +class="smcap">Volatile Nell</span>!”<br /> + + +<span class="smcap">Amelia</span> and <span +class="smcap">Volatile Nell</span>,<br /> + + +I hope you’re uncommonly well:<br /> + You two pretty pearls—you +extremely nice girls—<br /> + + +<span class="smcap">Amelia</span> and <span +class="smcap">Volatile Nell</span>!</p> +<p class="poetry">“<span class="smcap">Amelia</span> is +passable only, in face,<br /> + But, oh! she’s a worthy girl;<br /> +Superior morals like hers would grace<br /> + The home of a belted Earl.”<br /> + + +Morality, heavenly link!<br /> + + +To you I’ll eternally drink:<br /> + I’m awfully fond of that +heavenly bond,<br /> + + +Morality, heavenly link!</p> +<p class="poetry">“Now <span +class="smcap">Nelly’s</span> the prettier, p’raps, of +my gals,<br /> + But, oh! she’s a wayward chit;<br /> +She dresses herself in her showy fal-lals,<br /> + And doesn’t read <span +class="smcap">Tupper</span> a bit!”<br /> + + +O <span class="smcap">Tupper</span>, philosopher true,<br /> + + +How do you happen to do?<br /> + A publisher looks with respect on +your books,<br /> + + +For they <i>do</i> sell, philosopher true!</p> +<p class="poetry">The Bart. (I’ll be hanged if I +drink him again,<br /> + Or care if he’s ill or well),<br /> +He sneered at the goodness of <span class="smcap">Milly the +Plain</span>,<br /> + And cottoned to <span class="smcap">Volatile +Nell</span>!<br /> + + +O <span class="smcap">Volatile Nelly de</span> P.!<br /> + + +Be hanged if I’ll empty to thee:<br /> + I like worthy maids, not mere +frivolous jades,<br /> + + +<span class="smcap">Volatile Nelly de</span> P.!</p> +<p class="poetry">They bolted, the Bart. and his frivolous +dear,<br /> + And <span class="smcap">Milly</span> was left to +pout;<br /> +For years they’ve got on very well, as I hear,<br /> + But soon he will rue it, no doubt.<br /> + + +O excellent <span class="smcap">Milly de Plow</span>,<br /> + + +I really can’t drink to you now;<br /> + My head isn’t strong, and +the song has been long,<br /> + + +Excellent <span class="smcap">Milly de Plow</span>!</p> +<h2><a name="page330"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 330</span>THE +MODEST COUPLE</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">When</span> man and maiden +meet, I like to see a drooping eye,<br /> +I always droop my own—I am the shyest of the shy.<br /> +I’m also fond of bashfulness, and sitting down on +thorns,<br /> +For modesty’s a quality that womankind adorns.</p> +<p class="poetry">Whenever I am introduced to any pretty maid,<br +/> +My knees they knock together, just as if I were afraid;<br /> +I flutter, and I stammer, and I turn a pleasing red,<br /> +For to laugh, and flirt, and ogle I consider most ill-bred.</p> +<p class="poetry">But still in all these matters, as in other +things below,<br /> +There is a proper medium, as I’m about to show.<br /> +I do not recommend a newly-married pair to try<br /> +To carry on as <span class="smcap">Peter</span> carried on with +<span class="smcap">Sarah Bligh</span>.</p> +<p class="poetry">Betrothed they were when very +young—before they’d learnt to speak<br /> +(For <span class="smcap">Sarah</span> was but six days old, and +<span class="smcap">Peter</span> was a week);<br /> +Though little more than babies at those early ages, yet<br /> +They bashfully would faint when they occasionally met.</p> +<p class="poetry">They blushed, and flushed, and fainted, till +they reached the age of nine,<br /> +When <span class="smcap">Peter’s</span> good papa (he was a +Baron of the Rhine)<br /> +Determined to endeavour some sound argument to find<br /> +To bring these shy young people to a proper frame of mind.</p> +<p class="poetry">He told them that as <span +class="smcap">Sarah</span> was to be his <span +class="smcap">Peter’s</span> bride,<br /> +They might at least consent to sit at table side by side;<br /> +He begged that they would now and then shake hands, till he was +hoarse,<br /> +Which <span class="smcap">Sarah</span> thought indelicate, and +<span class="smcap">Peter</span> very coarse.</p> +<p class="poetry">And <span class="smcap">Peter</span> in a +tremble to the blushing maid would say,<br /> +“You must excuse papa, <span class="smcap">Miss +Bligh</span>,—it is his mountain way.”<br /> +Says <span class="smcap">Sarah</span>, “His behaviour +I’ll endeavour to forget,<br /> +But your papa’s the coarsest person that I ever met.</p> +<p class="poetry">“He plighted us without our leave, when +we were very young,<br /> +Before we had begun articulating with the tongue.<br /> +His underbred suggestions fill your <span +class="smcap">Sarah</span> with alarm;<br /> +Why, gracious me! he’ll ask us next to walk out +arm-in-arm!”</p> +<p class="poetry">At length when <span class="smcap">Sarah</span> +reached the legal age of twenty-one,<br /> +The Baron he determined to unite her to his son;<br /> +And <span class="smcap">Sarah</span> in a fainting-fit for weeks +unconscious lay,<br /> +And <span class="smcap">Peter</span> blushed so hard you might +have heard him miles away.</p> +<p class="poetry">And when the time arrived for taking <span +class="smcap">Sarah</span> to his heart,<br /> +They were married in two churches half-a-dozen miles apart<br /> +(Intending to escape all public ridicule and chaff),<br /> +And the service was conducted by electric telegraph.</p> +<p class="poetry">And when it was concluded, and the priest had +said his say,<br /> +Until the time arrived when they were both to drive away,<br /> +They never spoke or offered for to fondle or to fawn,<br /> +For <i>he</i> waited in the attic, and <i>she</i> waited on the +lawn.</p> +<p class="poetry">At length, when four o’clock arrived, and +it was time to go,<br /> +The carriage was announced, but decent <span +class="smcap">Sarah</span> answered “No!<br /> +Upon my word, I’d rather sleep my everlasting nap,<br /> +Than go and ride alone with <span class="smcap">Mr. Peter</span> +in a trap.”</p> +<p class="poetry">And <span class="smcap">Peter’s</span> +over-sensitive and highly-polished mind<br /> +Wouldn’t suffer him to sanction a proceeding of the +kind;<br /> +And further, he declared he suffered overwhelming shocks<br /> +At the bare idea of having any coachman on the box.</p> +<p class="poetry">So <span class="smcap">Peter</span> into one +turn-out incontinently rushed,<br /> +While <span class="smcap">Sarah</span> in a second trap sat +modestly and blushed;<br /> +And <span class="smcap">Mr. Newman’s</span> coachman, on +authority I’ve heard,<br /> +Drove away in gallant style upon the coach-box of a third.</p> +<p class="poetry">Now, though this modest couple in the matter of +the car<br /> +Were very likely carrying a principle too far,<br /> +I hold their shy behaviour was more laudable in them<br /> +Than that of <span class="smcap">Peter’s</span> brother +with <span class="smcap">Miss Sarah’s</span> sister <span +class="smcap">Em</span>.</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Alphonso</span>, who in +cool assurance all creation licks,<br /> +He up and said to <span class="smcap">Emmie</span> (who had +impudence for six),<br /> +“<span class="smcap">Miss Emily</span>, I love +you—will you marry? Say the word!”<br /> +And <span class="smcap">Emily</span> said, “Certainly, +<span class="smcap">Alphonso</span>, like a bird!”</p> +<p class="poetry">I do not recommend a newly-married pair to +try<br /> +To carry on as <span class="smcap">Peter</span> carried on with +<span class="smcap">Sarah Bligh</span>,<br /> +But still their shy behaviour was more laudable in them<br /> +Than that of <span class="smcap">Peter’s</span> brother +with <span class="smcap">Miss Sarah’s</span> sister <span +class="smcap">Em</span>.</p> +<h2><a name="page338"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 338</span>THE +MARTINET</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Some</span> time ago, in +simple verse<br /> + I sang the story true<br /> +Of <span class="smcap">Captain Reece</span>, the +<i>Mantelpiece</i>,<br /> + And all her happy crew.</p> +<p class="poetry">I showed how any captain may<br /> + Attach his men to him,<br /> +If he but heeds their smallest needs,<br /> + And studies every whim.</p> +<p class="poetry">Now mark how, by Draconic rule<br /> + And <i>hauteur</i> ill-advised,<br /> +The noblest crew upon the Blue<br /> + May be demoralized.</p> +<p class="poetry">When his ungrateful country placed<br /> + Kind <span class="smcap">Reece</span> upon +half-pay,<br /> +Without much claim <span class="smcap">Sir Berkely</span> +came,<br /> + And took command one day.</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Sir Berkely</span> was a +martinet—<br /> + A stern unyielding soul—<br /> +Who ruled his ship by dint of whip<br /> + And horrible black-hole.</p> +<p class="poetry">A sailor who was overcome<br /> + From having freely dined,<br /> +And chanced to reel when at the wheel,<br /> + He instantly confined!</p> +<p class="poetry">And tars who, when an action raged,<br /> + Appeared alarmed or scared,<br /> +And those below who wished to go,<br /> + He very seldom spared.</p> +<p class="poetry">E’en he who smote his officer<br /> + For punishment was booked,<br /> +And mutinies upon the seas<br /> + He rarely overlooked.</p> +<p class="poetry">In short, the happy <i>Mantelpiece</i>,<br /> + Where all had gone so well,<br /> +Beneath that fool <span class="smcap">Sir Berkely’s</span> +rule<br /> + Became a floating hell.</p> +<p class="poetry">When first <span class="smcap">Sir +Berkely</span> came aboard<br /> + He read a speech to all,<br /> +And told them how he’d made a vow<br /> + To act on duty’s call.</p> +<p class="poetry">Then <span class="smcap">William Lee</span>, he +up and said<br /> + (The Captain’s coxswain he),<br /> +“We’ve heard the speech your honour’s made,<br +/> + And werry pleased we be.</p> +<p class="poetry">“We won’t pretend, my lad, as +how<br /> + We’re glad to lose our <span +class="smcap">Reece</span>;<br /> +Urbane, polite, he suited quite<br /> + The saucy <i>Mantelpiece</i>.</p> +<p class="poetry">“But if your honour gives your mind<br /> + To study all our ways,<br /> +With dance and song we’ll jog along<br /> + As in those happy days.</p> +<p class="poetry">“I like your honour’s looks, and +feel<br /> + You’re worthy of your sword.<br /> +Your hand, my lad—I’m doosid glad<br /> + To welcome you aboard!”</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Sir Berkely</span> looked +amazed, as though<br /> + He didn’t understand.<br /> +“Don’t shake your head,” good <span +class="smcap">William</span> said,<br /> + “It is an honest hand.</p> +<p class="poetry">“It’s grasped a better hand than +yourn—<br /> + Come, gov’nor, I insist!”<br /> +The Captain stared—the coxswain glared—<br /> + The hand became a fist!</p> +<p class="poetry">“Down, upstart!” said the hardy +salt;<br /> + But <span class="smcap">Berkely</span> dodged his +aim,<br /> +And made him go in chains below:<br /> + The seamen murmured “Shame!”</p> +<p class="poetry">He stopped all songs at 12 p.m.,<br /> + Stopped hornpipes when at sea,<br /> +And swore his cot (or bunk) should not<br /> + Be used by aught than he.</p> +<p class="poetry">He never joined their daily mess,<br /> + Nor asked them to his own,<br /> +But chaffed in gay and social way<br /> + The officers alone.</p> +<p class="poetry">His First Lieutenant, <span +class="smcap">Peter</span>, was<br /> + As useless as could be,<br /> +A helpless stick, and always sick<br /> + When there was any sea.</p> +<p class="poetry">This First Lieutenant proved to be<br /> + His foster-sister <span class="smcap">May</span>,<br +/> +Who went to sea for love of he<br /> + In masculine array.</p> +<p class="poetry">And when he learnt the curious fact,<br /> + Did he emotion show,<br /> +Or dry her tears or end her fears<br /> + By marrying her? No!</p> +<p class="poetry">Or did he even try to soothe<br /> + This maiden in her teens?<br /> +Oh, no!—instead he made her wed<br /> + The Sergeant of Marines!</p> +<p class="poetry">Of course such Spartan discipline<br /> + Would make an angel fret;<br /> +They drew a lot, and <span class="smcap">William</span> shot<br +/> + This fearful martinet.</p> +<p class="poetry">The Admiralty saw how ill<br /> + They’d treated <span class="smcap">Captain +Reece</span>;<br /> +He was restored once more aboard<br /> + The saucy <i>Mantelpiece</i>.</p> +<h2><a name="page348"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 348</span>THE +SAILOR BOY TO HIS LASS</h2> +<p class="poetry">I <span class="smcap">go</span> away this +blessed day,<br /> + To sail across the sea, <span +class="smcap">Matilda</span>!<br /> +My vessel starts for various parts<br /> + At twenty after three, <span +class="smcap">Matilda</span>.<br /> +I hardly know where we may go,<br /> + Or if it’s near or far, <span +class="smcap">Matilda</span>,<br /> +For <span class="smcap">Captain Hyde</span> does not confide<br +/> + In any ’fore-mast tar, <span +class="smcap">Matilda</span>!</p> +<p class="poetry">Beneath my ban that mystic man<br /> + Shall suffer, <i>coûte qui coûte</i>, +<span class="smcap">Matilda</span>!<br /> +What right has he to keep from me<br /> + The Admiralty route, <span +class="smcap">Matilda</span>?<br /> +Because, forsooth! I am a youth<br /> + Of common sailors’ lot, <span +class="smcap">Matilda</span>!<br /> +Am I a man on human plan<br /> + Designed, or am I not, <span +class="smcap">Matilda</span>?</p> +<p class="poetry">But there, my lass, we’ll let that +pass!<br /> + With anxious love I burn, <span +class="smcap">Matilda</span>.<br /> +I want to know if we shall go<br /> + To church when I return, <span +class="smcap">Matilda</span>?<br /> +Your eyes are red, you bow your head;<br /> + It’s pretty clear you thirst, <span +class="smcap">Matilda</span>,<br /> +To name the day—What’s that you say?—<br /> + “You’ll see me further first,” +<span class="smcap">Matilda</span>?</p> +<p class="poetry">I can’t mistake the signs you make,<br /> + Although you barely speak, <span +class="smcap">Matilda</span>;<br /> +Though pure and young, you thrust your tongue<br /> + Right in your pretty cheek, <span +class="smcap">Matilda</span>!<br /> +My dear, I fear I hear you sneer—<br /> + I do—I’m sure I do, <span +class="smcap">Matilda</span>!<br /> +With simple grace you make a face,<br /> + Ejaculating, “Ugh!” <span +class="smcap">Matilda</span>.</p> +<p class="poetry">Oh, pause to think before you drink<br /> + The dregs of Lethe’s cup, <span +class="smcap">Matilda</span>!<br /> +Remember, do, what I’ve gone through,<br /> + Before you give me up, <span +class="smcap">Matilda</span>!<br /> +Recall again the mental pain<br /> + Of what I’ve had to do, <span +class="smcap">Matilda</span>!<br /> +And be assured that I’ve endured<br /> + It, all along of you, <span +class="smcap">Matilda</span>!</p> +<p class="poetry">Do you forget, my blithesome pet,<br /> + How once with jealous rage, <span +class="smcap">Matilda</span>,<br /> +I watched you walk and gaily talk<br /> + With some one thrice your age, <span +class="smcap">Matilda</span>?<br /> +You squatted free upon his knee,<br /> + A sight that made me sad, <span +class="smcap">Matilda</span>!<br /> +You pinched his cheek with friendly tweak,<br /> + Which almost drove me mad, <span +class="smcap">Matilda</span>!</p> +<p class="poetry">I knew him not, but hoped to spot<br /> + Some man you thought to wed, <span +class="smcap">Matilda</span>!<br /> +I took a gun, my darling one,<br /> + And shot him through the head, <span +class="smcap">Matilda</span>!<br /> +I’m made of stuff that’s rough and gruff<br /> + Enough, I own; but, ah, <span +class="smcap">Matilda</span>!<br /> +It <i>did</i> annoy your sailor boy<br /> + To find it was your pa, <span +class="smcap">Matilda</span>!</p> +<p class="poetry">I’ve passed a life of toil and strife,<br +/> + And disappointments deep, <span +class="smcap">Matilda</span>;<br /> +I’ve lain awake with dental ache<br /> + Until I fell asleep, <span +class="smcap">Matilda</span>!<br /> +At times again I’ve missed a train,<br /> + Or p’rhaps run short of tin, <span +class="smcap">Matilda</span>,<br /> +And worn a boot on corns that shoot,<br /> + Or, shaving, cut my chin, <span +class="smcap">Matilda</span>.</p> +<p class="poetry">But, oh! no trains—no dental +pains—<br /> + Believe me when I say, <span +class="smcap">Matilda</span>,<br /> +No corns that shoot—no pinching boot<br /> + Upon a summer day, <span +class="smcap">Matilda</span>—<br /> +It’s my belief, could cause such grief<br /> + As that I’ve suffered for, <span +class="smcap">Matilda</span>,<br /> +My having shot in vital spot<br /> + Your old progenitor, <span +class="smcap">Matilda</span>.</p> +<p class="poetry">Bethink you how I’ve kept the vow<br /> + I made one winter day, <span +class="smcap">Matilda</span>—<br /> +That, come what could, I never would<br /> + Remain too long away, <span +class="smcap">Matilda</span>.<br /> +And, oh! the crimes with which, at times,<br /> + I’ve charged my gentle mind, <span +class="smcap">Matilda</span>,<br /> +To keep the vow I made—and now<br /> + You treat me so unkind, <span +class="smcap">Matilda</span>!</p> +<p class="poetry">For when at sea, off Caribbee,<br /> + I felt my passion burn, <span +class="smcap">Matilda</span>,<br /> +By passion egged, I went and begged<br /> + The captain to return, <span +class="smcap">Matilda</span>.<br /> +And when, my pet, I couldn’t get<br /> + That captain to agree, <span +class="smcap">Matilda</span>,<br /> +Right through a sort of open port<br /> + I pitched him in the sea, <span +class="smcap">Matilda</span>!</p> +<p class="poetry">Remember, too, how all the crew<br /> + With indignation blind, <span +class="smcap">Matilda</span>,<br /> +Distinctly swore they ne’er before<br /> + Had thought me so unkind, <span +class="smcap">Matilda</span>.<br /> +And how they’d shun me one by one—<br /> + An unforgiving group, <span +class="smcap">Matilda</span>—<br /> +I stopped their howls and sulky scowls<br /> + By pizening their soup, <span +class="smcap">Matilda</span>!</p> +<p class="poetry">So pause to think, before you drink<br /> + The dregs of Lethe’s cup, <span +class="smcap">Matilda</span>;<br /> +Remember, do, what I’ve gone through,<br /> + Before you give me up, <span +class="smcap">Matilda</span>.<br /> +Recall again the mental pain<br /> + Of what I’ve had to do, <span +class="smcap">Matilda</span>,<br /> +And be assured that I’ve endured<br /> + It, all along of you, <span +class="smcap">Matilda</span>!</p> +<h2><a name="page356"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 356</span>THE +REVEREND SIMON MAGUS</h2> +<p class="poetry">A <span class="smcap">rich</span> advowson, +highly prized,<br /> +For private sale was advertised;<br /> +And many a parson made a bid;<br /> +The <span class="smcap">Reverend Simon Magus</span> did.</p> +<p class="poetry">He sought the agent’s: “Agent, I<br +/> +Have come prepared at once to buy<br /> +(If your demand is not too big)<br /> +The Cure of Otium-cum-Digge.”</p> +<p class="poetry">“Ah!” said the agent, +“<i>there’s</i> a berth—<br /> +The snuggest vicarage on earth;<br /> +No sort of duty (so I hear),<br /> +And fifteen hundred pounds a year!</p> +<p class="poetry">“If on the price we should agree,<br /> +The living soon will vacant be;<br /> +The good incumbent’s ninety five,<br /> +And cannot very long survive.</p> +<p class="poetry">“See—here’s his +photograph—you see,<br /> +He’s in his dotage.” “Ah, dear me!<br /> +Poor soul!” said <span class="smcap">Simon</span>. +“His decease<br /> +Would be a merciful release!”</p> +<p class="poetry">The agent laughed—the agent +blinked—<br /> +The agent blew his nose and winked—<br /> +And poked the parson’s ribs in play—<br /> +It was that agent’s vulgar way.</p> +<p class="poetry">The <span class="smcap">Reverend Simon</span> +frowned: “I grieve<br /> +This light demeanour to perceive;<br /> +It’s scarcely <i>comme il faut</i>, I think:<br /> +Now—pray oblige me—do not wink.</p> +<p class="poetry">“Don’t dig my waistcoat into +holes—<br /> +Your mission is to sell the souls<br /> +Of human sheep and human kids<br /> +To that divine who highest bids.</p> +<p class="poetry">“Do well in this, and on your head<br /> +Unnumbered honours will be shed.”<br /> +The agent said, “Well, truth to tell,<br /> +I <i>have</i> been doing very well.”</p> +<p class="poetry">“You should,” said <span +class="smcap">Simon</span>, “at your age;<br /> +But now about the parsonage.<br /> +How many rooms does it contain?<br /> +Show me the photograph again.</p> +<p class="poetry">“A poor apostle’s humble house<br +/> +Must not be too luxurious;<br /> +No stately halls with oaken floor—<br /> +It should be decent and no more.</p> +<p class="poetry">“No billiard-rooms—no stately +trees—<br /> +No croquêt-grounds or pineries.”<br /> +“Ah!” sighed the agent, “very true:<br /> +This property won’t do for you.”</p> +<p class="poetry">“All these about the house you’ll +find.”—<br /> +“Well,” said the parson, “never mind;<br /> +I’ll manage to submit to these<br /> +Luxurious superfluities.</p> +<p class="poetry">“A clergyman who does not shirk<br /> +The various calls of Christian work,<br /> +Will have no leisure to employ<br /> +These ‘common forms’ of worldly joy.</p> +<p class="poetry">“To preach three times on Sabbath +days—<br /> +To wean the lost from wicked ways—<br /> +The sick to soothe—the sane to wed—<br /> +The poor to feed with meat and bread;</p> +<p class="poetry">“These are the various wholesome ways<br +/> +In which I’ll spend my nights and days:<br /> +My zeal will have no time to cool<br /> +At croquet, archery, or pool.”</p> +<p class="poetry">The agent said, “From what I hear,<br /> +This living will not suit, I fear—<br /> +There are no poor, no sick at all;<br /> +For services there is no call.”</p> +<p class="poetry">The reverend gent looked grave, “Dear +me!<br /> +Then there is <i>no</i> ‘society’?—<br /> +I mean, of course, no sinners there<br /> +Whose souls will be my special care?”</p> +<p class="poetry">The cunning agent shook his head,<br /> +“No, none—except”—(the agent +said)—<br /> +“The <span class="smcap">Duke of</span> A., the <span +class="smcap">Earl of</span> B.,<br /> +The <span class="smcap">Marquis</span> C., and <span +class="smcap">Viscount</span> D.</p> +<p class="poetry">“But you will not be quite alone,<br /> +For though they’ve chaplains of their own,<br /> +Of course this noble well-bred clan<br /> +Receive the parish clergyman.”</p> +<p class="poetry">“Oh, silence, sir!” said <span +class="smcap">Simon</span> M.,<br /> +“Dukes—Earls! What should I care for them?<br +/> +These worldly ranks I scorn and flout!”<br /> +“Of course,” the agent said, “no +doubt!”</p> +<p class="poetry">“Yet I might show these men of birth<br +/> +The hollowness of rank on earth.”<br /> +The agent answered, “Very true—<br /> +But I should not, if I were you.”</p> +<p class="poetry">“Who sells this rich advowson, +pray?”<br /> +The agent winked—it was his way—<br /> +“His name is <span class="smcap">Hart</span>; ’twixt +me and you,<br /> +He is, I’m grieved to say, a Jew!”</p> +<p class="poetry">“A Jew?” said <span +class="smcap">Simon</span>, “happy find!<br /> +I purchase this advowson, mind.<br /> +My life shall be devoted to<br /> +Converting that unhappy Jew!”</p> +<h2><a name="page363"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +363</span>DAMON <i>v.</i> PYTHIAS</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Two</span> better friends +you wouldn’t pass<br /> + Throughout a summer’s day,<br /> +Than <span class="smcap">Damon</span> and his <span +class="smcap">Pythias</span>,—<br /> + Two merchant princes they.</p> +<p class="poetry">At school together they contrived<br /> + All sorts of boyish larks;<br /> +And, later on, together thrived<br /> + As merry merchants’ clerks.</p> +<p class="poetry">And then, when many years had flown,<br /> + They rose together till<br /> +They bought a business of their own—<br /> + And they conduct it still.</p> +<p class="poetry">They loved each other all their lives,<br /> + Dissent they never knew,<br /> +And, stranger still, their very wives<br /> + Were rather friendly too.</p> +<p class="poetry">Perhaps you think, to serve my ends,<br /> + These statements I refute,<br /> +When I admit that these dear friends<br /> + Were parties to a suit?</p> +<p class="poetry">But ’twas a friendly action, for<br /> + Good <span class="smcap">Pythias</span>, as you +see,<br /> +Fought merely as executor,<br /> + And <span class="smcap">Damon</span> as trustee.</p> +<p class="poetry">They laughed to think, as through the throng<br +/> + Of suitors sad they passed,<br /> +That they, who’d lived and loved so long,<br /> + Should go to law at last.</p> +<p class="poetry">The junior briefs they kindly let<br /> + Two sucking counsel hold;<br /> +These learned persons never yet<br /> + Had fingered suitors’ gold.</p> +<p class="poetry">But though the happy suitors two<br /> + Were friendly as could be,<br /> +Not so the junior counsel who<br /> + Were earning maiden fee.</p> +<p class="poetry">They too, till then, were friends. At +school<br /> + They’d done each other’s sums,<br /> +And under Oxford’s gentle rule<br /> + Had been the closest chums.</p> +<p class="poetry">But now they met with scowl and grin<br /> + In every public place,<br /> +And often snapped their fingers in<br /> + Each other’s learned face.</p> +<p class="poetry">It almost ended in a fight<br /> + When they on path or stair<br /> +Met face to face. They made it quite<br /> + A personal affair.</p> +<p class="poetry">And when at length the case was called<br /> + (It came on rather late),<br /> +Spectators really were appalled<br /> + To see their deadly hate.</p> +<p class="poetry">One junior rose—with eyeballs tense,<br +/> + And swollen frontal veins:<br /> +To all his powers of eloquence<br /> + He gave the fullest reins.</p> +<p class="poetry">His argument was novel—for<br /> + A verdict he relied<br /> +On blackening the junior<br /> + Upon the other side.</p> +<p class="poetry">“Oh,” said the Judge, in robe and +fur,<br /> + “The matter in dispute<br /> +To arbitration pray refer—<br /> + This is a friendly suit.”</p> +<p class="poetry">And <span class="smcap">Pythias</span>, in +merry mood,<br /> + Digged <span class="smcap">Damon</span> in the +side;<br /> +And <span class="smcap">Damon</span>, tickled with the feud,<br +/> + With other digs replied.</p> +<p class="poetry">But oh! those deadly counsel twain,<br /> + Who were such friends before,<br /> +Were never reconciled again—<br /> + They quarrelled more and more.</p> +<p class="poetry">At length it happened that they met<br /> + On Alpine heights one day,<br /> +And thus they paid each one his debt,<br /> + Their fury had its way—</p> +<p class="poetry">They seized each other in a trice,<br /> + With scorn and hatred filled,<br /> +And, falling from a precipice,<br /> + They, both of them, were killed.</p> +<h2><a name="page368"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 368</span>MY +DREAM</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">The</span> other night, +from cares exempt,<br /> +I slept—and what d’you think I dreamt?<br /> +I dreamt that somehow I had come<br /> +To dwell in Topsy-Turveydom—</p> +<p class="poetry">Where vice is virtue—virtue, vice:<br /> +Where nice is nasty—nasty, nice:<br /> +Where right is wrong and wrong is right—<br /> +Where white is black and black is white.</p> +<p class="poetry">Where babies, much to their surprise,<br /> +Are born astonishingly wise;<br /> +With every Science on their lips,<br /> +And Art at all their finger-tips.</p> +<p class="poetry">For, as their nurses dandle them<br /> +They crow binomial theorem,<br /> +With views (it seems absurd to us)<br /> +On differential calculus.</p> +<p class="poetry">But though a babe, as I have said,<br /> +Is born with learning in his head,<br /> +He must forget it, if he can,<br /> +Before he calls himself a man.</p> +<p class="poetry">For that which we call folly here,<br /> +Is wisdom in that favoured sphere;<br /> +The wisdom we so highly prize<br /> +Is blatant folly in their eyes.</p> +<p class="poetry">A boy, if he would push his way,<br /> +Must learn some nonsense every day;<br /> +And cut, to carry out this view,<br /> +His wisdom teeth and wisdom too.</p> +<p class="poetry">Historians burn their midnight oils,<br /> +Intent on giant-killers’ toils;<br /> +And sages close their aged eyes<br /> +To other sages’ lullabies.</p> +<p class="poetry"><i>Our</i> magistrates, in duty bound,<br /> +Commit all robbers who are found;<br /> +But there the Beaks (so people said)<br /> +Commit all robberies instead.</p> +<p class="poetry"><i>Our</i> Judges, pure and wise in tone,<br /> +Know crime from theory alone,<br /> +And glean the motives of a thief<br /> +From books and popular belief.</p> +<p class="poetry">But there, a Judge who wants to prime<br /> +His mind with true ideas of crime,<br /> +Derives them from the common sense<br /> +Of practical experience.</p> +<p class="poetry">Policemen march all folks away<br /> +Who practise virtue every day—<br /> +Of course, I mean to say, you know,<br /> +What we call virtue here below.</p> +<p class="poetry">For only scoundrels dare to do<br /> +What we consider just and true,<br /> +And only good men do, in fact,<br /> +What we should think a dirty act.</p> +<p class="poetry">But strangest of these social twirls,<br /> +The girls are boys—the boys are girls!<br /> +The men are women, too—but then,<br /> +<i>Per contra</i>, women all are men.</p> +<p class="poetry">To one who to tradition clings<br /> +This seems an awkward state of things,<br /> +But if to think it out you try,<br /> +It doesn’t really signify.</p> +<p class="poetry">With them, as surely as can be,<br /> +A sailor should be sick at sea,<br /> +And not a passenger may sail<br /> +Who cannot smoke right through a gale.</p> +<p class="poetry">A soldier (save by rarest luck)<br /> +Is always shot for showing pluck<br /> +(That is, if others can be found<br /> +With pluck enough to fire a round).</p> +<p class="poetry">“How strange!” I said to one I +saw;<br /> +“You quite upset our every law.<br /> +However can you get along<br /> +So systematically wrong?”</p> +<p class="poetry">“Dear me!” my mad informant +said,<br /> +“Have you no eyes within your head?<br /> +You sneer when you your hat should doff:<br /> +Why, we begin where you leave off!</p> +<p class="poetry">“Your wisest men are very far<br /> +Less learned than our babies are!”<br /> +I mused awhile—and then, oh me!<br /> +I framed this brilliant repartee:</p> +<p class="poetry">“Although your babes are wiser far<br /> +Than our most valued sages are,<br /> +Your sages, with their toys and cots,<br /> +Are duller than our idiots!”</p> +<p class="poetry">But this remark, I grieve to state,<br /> +Came just a little bit too late<br /> +For as I framed it in my head,<br /> +I woke and found myself in bed.</p> +<p class="poetry">Still I could wish that, ’stead of +here,<br /> +My lot were in that favoured sphere!—<br /> +Where greatest fools bear off the bell<br /> +I ought to do extremely well.</p> +<h2><a name="page376"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 376</span>THE +BISHOP OF RUM-TI-FOO AGAIN</h2> +<p class="poetry">I <span class="smcap">often</span> wonder +whether you<br /> +Think sometimes of that Bishop, who<br /> +From black but balmy Rum-ti-Foo<br /> + Last summer +twelvemonth came.<br /> +Unto your mind I p’r’aps may bring<br /> +Remembrance of the man I sing<br /> +To-day, by simply mentioning<br /> + That <span +class="smcap">Peter</span> was his name.</p> +<p class="poetry">Remember how that holy man<br /> +Came with the great Colonial clan<br /> +To Synod, called Pan-Anglican;<br /> + And kindly +recollect<br /> +How, having crossed the ocean wide,<br /> +To please his flock all means he tried<br /> +Consistent with a proper pride<br /> + And manly +self-respect.</p> +<p class="poetry">He only, of the reverend pack<br /> +Who minister to Christians black,<br /> +Brought any useful knowledge back<br /> + To his Colonial +fold.<br /> +In consequence a place I claim<br /> +For “<span class="smcap">Peter</span>” on the scroll +of Fame<br /> +(For <span class="smcap">Peter</span> was that Bishop’s +name,<br /> + As I’ve +already told).</p> +<p class="poetry">He carried Art, he often said,<br /> +To places where that timid maid<br /> +(Save by Colonial Bishops’ aid)<br /> + Could never hope +to roam.<br /> +The Payne-cum-Lauri feat he taught<br /> +As he had learnt it; for he thought<br /> +The choicest fruits of Progress ought<br /> + To bless the +Negro’s home.</p> +<p class="poetry">And he had other work to do,<br /> +For, while he tossed upon the Blue,<br /> +The islanders of Rum-ti-Foo<br /> + Forgot their +kindly friend.<br /> +Their decent clothes they learnt to tear—<br /> +They learnt to say, “I do not care,”<br /> +Though they, of course, were well aware<br /> + How folks, who +say so, end.</p> +<p class="poetry">Some sailors, whom he did not know,<br /> +Had landed there not long ago,<br /> +And taught them “Bother!” also, +“Blow!”<br /> + (Of wickedness +the germs).<br /> +No need to use a casuist’s pen<br /> +To prove that they were merchantmen;<br /> +No sailor of the Royal N.<br /> + Would use such +awful terms.</p> +<p class="poetry">And so, when <span class="smcap">Bishop +Peter</span> came<br /> +(That was the kindly Bishop’s name),<br /> +He heard these dreadful oaths with shame,<br /> + And chid their +want of dress.<br /> +(Except a shell—a bangle rare—<br /> +A feather here—a feather there<br /> +The South Pacific Negroes wear<br /> + Their native +nothingness.)</p> +<p class="poetry">He taught them that a Bishop loathes<br /> +To listen to disgraceful oaths,<br /> +He gave them all his left-off clothes—<br /> + They bent them +to his will.<br /> +The Bishop’s gift spreads quickly round;<br /> +In <span class="smcap">Peter’s</span> left-off clothes they +bound<br /> +(His three-and-twenty suits they found<br /> + In fair +condition still).</p> +<p class="poetry">The Bishop’s eyes with water fill,<br /> +Quite overjoyed to find them still<br /> +Obedient to his sovereign will,<br /> + And said, +“Good Rum-ti-Foo!<br /> +Half-way I’ll meet you, I declare:<br /> +I’ll dress myself in cowries rare,<br /> +And fasten feathers in my hair,<br /> + And dance the +‘Cutch-chi-boo!’”</p> +<p class="poetry">And to conciliate his See<br /> +He married <span class="smcap">Piccadillillee</span>,<br /> +The youngest of his twenty-three,<br /> + +Tall—neither fat nor thin.<br /> +(And though the dress he made her don<br /> +Looks awkwardly a girl upon,<br /> +It was a great improvement on<br /> + The one he found +her in.)</p> +<p class="poetry">The Bishop in his gay canoe<br /> +(His wife, of course, went with him too)<br /> +To some adjacent island flew,<br /> + To spend his +honeymoon.<br /> +Some day in sunny Rum-ti-Foo<br /> +A little <span class="smcap">Peter</span>’ll be on view;<br +/> +And that (if people tell me true)<br /> + Is like to +happen soon.</p> +<h2><a name="page383"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 383</span>A +WORM WILL TURN</h2> +<p class="poetry">I <span class="smcap">love</span> a man +who’ll smile and joke<br /> + When with misfortune crowned;<br +/> +Who’ll pun beneath a pauper’s yoke,<br /> +And as he breaks his daily toke,<br /> + Conundrums gay propound.</p> +<p class="poetry">Just such a man was <span class="smcap">Bernard +Jupp</span>,<br /> + He scoffed at Fortune’s +frown;<br /> +He gaily drained his bitter cup—<br /> +Though Fortune often threw him up,<br /> + It never cast him down.</p> +<p class="poetry">Though years their share of sorrow bring,<br /> + We know that far above<br /> +All other griefs, are griefs that spring<br /> +From some misfortune happening<br /> + To those we really love.</p> +<p class="poetry">E’en sorrow for another’s woe<br /> + Our <span +class="smcap">Bernard</span> failed to quell;<br /> +Though by this special form of blow<br /> +No person ever suffered so,<br /> + Or bore his grief so well.</p> +<p class="poetry">His father, wealthy and well clad,<br /> + And owning house and park,<br /> +Lost every halfpenny he had,<br /> +And then became (extremely sad!)<br /> + A poor attorney’s clerk.</p> +<p class="poetry">All sons it surely would appal,<br /> + Except the passing meek,<br /> +To see a father lose his all,<br /> +And from an independence fall<br /> + To one pound ten a week!</p> +<p class="poetry">But <span class="smcap">Jupp</span> shook off +this sorrow’s weight,<br /> + And, like a Christian son,<br /> +Proved Poverty a happy fate—<br /> +Proved Wealth to be a devil’s bait,<br /> + To lure poor sinners on.</p> +<p class="poetry">With other sorrows <span +class="smcap">Bernard</span> coped,<br /> + For sorrows came in packs;<br /> +His cousins with their housemaids sloped—<br /> +His uncles forged—his aunts eloped—<br /> + His sisters married blacks.</p> +<p class="poetry">But <span class="smcap">Bernard</span>, far +from murmuring<br /> + (Exemplar, friends, to us),<br /> +Determined to his faith to cling,—<br /> +He made the best of everything,<br /> + And argued softly thus:</p> +<p class="poetry">“’Twere harsh my uncles’ +forging knack<br /> + Too rudely to condemn—<br /> +My aunts, repentant, may come back,<br /> +And blacks are nothing like as black<br /> + As people colour them!”</p> +<p class="poetry">Still Fate, with many a sorrow rife,<br /> + Maintained relentless fight:<br /> +His grandmamma next lost her life,<br /> +Then died the mother of his wife,<br /> + But still he seemed all right.</p> +<p class="poetry">His brother fond (the only link<br /> + To life that bound him now)<br /> +One morning, overcome by drink,<br /> +He broke his leg (the right, I think)<br /> + In some disgraceful row.</p> +<p class="poetry">But did my <span class="smcap">Bernard</span> +swear and curse?<br /> + Oh no—to murmur loth,<br /> +He only said, “Go, get a nurse:<br /> +Be thankful that it isn’t worse;<br /> + You might have broken +both!”</p> +<p class="poetry">But worms who watch without concern<br /> + The cockchafer on thorns,<br /> +Or beetles smashed, themselves will turn<br /> +If, walking through the slippery fern,<br /> + You tread upon their corns.</p> +<p class="poetry">One night as <span class="smcap">Bernard</span> +made his track<br /> + Through Brompton home to bed,<br +/> +A footpad, with a vizor black,<br /> +Took watch and purse, and dealt a crack<br /> + On <span +class="smcap">Bernard’s</span> saint-like head.</p> +<p class="poetry">It was too much—his spirit rose,<br /> + He looked extremely cross.<br /> +Men thought him steeled to mortal foes,<br /> +But no—he bowed to countless blows,<br /> + But kicked against this loss.</p> +<p class="poetry">He finally made up his mind<br /> + Upon his friends to call;<br /> +Subscription lists were largely signed,<br /> +For men were really glad to find<br /> + Him mortal, after all!</p> +<h2><a name="page391"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 391</span>THE +HAUGHTY ACTOR</h2> +<p class="poetry"> <span class="smcap">An</span> +actor—<span class="smcap">Gibbs</span>, of Drury +Lane—<br /> + Of very decent station,<br /> + Once happened in a part to gain<br /> + Excessive approbation:<br /> + It sometimes turns a fellow’s brain<br /> + And makes him singularly vain<br /> +When he believes that he receives<br /> + Tremendous approbation.</p> +<p class="poetry"> His great success half drove +him mad,<br /> + But no one seemed to mind him;<br +/> + Well, in another piece he had<br /> + Another part assigned him.<br /> + This part was smaller, by a bit,<br /> + Than that in which he made a hit.<br /> +So, much ill-used, he straight refused<br /> + To play the part assigned him.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">* * * * * * * *</p> +<p class="poetry"><i>That night that actor slept</i>, <i>and +I’ll attempt</i><br /> +<i>To tell you of the vivid dream he dreamt</i>.</p> +<h3>THE DREAM.</h3> +<p class="poetry"> In fighting with a robber +band<br /> + (A thing he loved sincerely)<br /> + A sword struck <span class="smcap">Gibbs</span> upon +the hand,<br /> + And wounded it severely.<br /> + At first he didn’t heed it much,<br /> + He thought it was a simple touch,<br /> +But soon he found the weapon’s bound<br /> + Had wounded him severely.</p> +<p class="poetry"> To Surgeon <span +class="smcap">Cobb</span> he made a trip,<br /> + Who’d just effected +featly<br /> + An amputation at the hip<br /> + Particularly neatly.<br /> + A rising man was Surgeon <span +class="smcap">Cobb</span><br /> + But this extremely ticklish job<br /> +He had achieved (as he believed)<br /> + Particularly neatly.</p> +<p class="poetry"> The actor rang the +surgeon’s bell.<br /> + “Observe my wounded +finger,<br /> + Be good enough to strap it well,<br /> + And prithee do not linger.<br /> + That I, dear sir, may fill again<br /> + The Theatre Royal Drury Lane:<br /> +This very night I have to fight—<br /> + So prithee do not +linger.”</p> +<p class="poetry"> “I don’t strap +fingers up for doles,”<br /> + Replied the haughty surgeon;<br /> + “To use your cant, I don’t play +rôles<br /> + Utility that verge on.<br /> + First amputation—nothing less—<br /> + That is my line of business:<br /> +We surgeon nobs despise all jobs<br /> + Utility that verge on</p> +<p class="poetry"> “When in your hip there +lurks disease”<br /> + (So dreamt this lively +dreamer),<br /> + “Or devastating <i>caries</i><br /> + In <i>humerus</i> or +<i>femur</i>,<br /> + If you can pay a handsome fee,<br /> + Oh, then you may remember me—<br /> +With joy elate I’ll amputate<br /> + Your <i>humerus</i> or +<i>femur</i>.”</p> +<p class="poetry"> The disconcerted actor +ceased<br /> + The haughty leech to pester,<br /> + But when the wound in size increased,<br /> + And then began to fester,<br /> + He sought a learned Counsel’s lair,<br /> + And told that Counsel, then and there,<br /> +How <span class="smcap">Cobb’s</span> neglect of his +defect<br /> + Had made his finger fester.</p> +<p class="poetry"> “Oh, bring my action, +if you please,<br /> + The case I pray you urge on,<br /> + And win me thumping damages<br /> + From <span +class="smcap">Cobb</span>, that haughty surgeon.<br /> + He culpably neglected me<br /> + Although I proffered him his fee,<br /> +So pray come down, in wig and gown,<br /> + On <span +class="smcap">Cobb</span>, that haughty surgeon!”</p> +<p class="poetry"> That Counsel learned in the +laws,<br /> + With passion almost trembled.<br +/> + He just had gained a mighty cause<br /> + Before the Peers assembled!<br /> + Said he, “How dare you have the face<br /> + To come with Common Jury case<br /> +To one who wings rhetoric flings<br /> + Before the Peers +assembled?”</p> +<p class="poetry"> Dispirited became our +friend—<br /> + Depressed his moral +pecker—<br /> + “But stay! a thought!—I’ll gain my +end,<br /> + And save my poor exchequer.<br /> + I won’t be placed upon the shelf,<br /> + I’ll take it into Court myself,<br /> +And legal lore display before<br /> + The Court of the +Exchequer.”</p> +<p class="poetry"> He found a Baron—one of +those<br /> + Who with our laws supply +us—<br /> + In wig and silken gown and hose,<br /> + As if at <i>Nisi Prius</i>.<br /> + But he’d just given, off the reel,<br /> + A famous judgment on Appeal:<br /> +It scarce became his heightened fame<br /> + To sit at <i>Nisi Prius</i>.</p> +<p class="poetry"> Our friend began, with easy +wit,<br /> + That half concealed his terror:<br +/> + “Pooh!” said the Judge, “I only +sit<br /> + In <i>Banco</i> or in Error.<br /> + Can you suppose, my man, that I’d<br /> + O’er <i>Nisi Prius</i> Courts preside,<br /> +Or condescend my time to spend<br /> + On anything but Error?”</p> +<p class="poetry"> “Too bad,” said +<span class="smcap">Gibbs</span>, “my case to shirk!<br /> + You must be bad innately,<br /> + To save your skill for mighty work<br /> + Because it’s valued +greatly!”<br /> + But here he woke, with sudden start.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">* * * * * * * *</p> +<p class="poetry"> He wrote to say he’d +play the part.<br /> +I’ve but to tell he played it well—<br /> + The author’s words—his native wit<br /> + Combined, achieved a perfect +“hit”—<br /> + The papers +praised him greatly.</p> +<h2><a name="page399"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 399</span>THE +TWO MAJORS</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">An</span> excellent soldier +who’s worthy the name<br /> + Loves officers dashing and strict:<br /> +When good, he’s content with escaping all blame,<br /> + When naughty, he likes to be licked.</p> +<p class="poetry">He likes for a fault to be bullied and +stormed,<br /> + Or imprisoned for several days,<br /> +And hates, for a duty correctly performed,<br /> + To be slavered with sickening praise.</p> +<p class="poetry">No officer sickened with praises his +<i>corps</i><br /> + So little as <span class="smcap">Major La +Guerre</span>—<br /> +No officer swore at his warriors more<br /> + Than <span class="smcap">Major Makredi +Prepere</span>.</p> +<p class="poetry">Their soldiers adored them, and every grade<br +/> + Delighted to hear their abuse;<br /> +Though whenever these officers came on parade<br /> + They shivered and shook in their shoes.</p> +<p class="poetry">For, oh! if <span class="smcap">La +Guerre</span> could all praises withhold,<br /> + Why, so could <span class="smcap">Makredi +Prepere</span>,<br /> +And, oh! if <span class="smcap">Makredi</span> could bluster and +scold,<br /> + Why, so could the mighty <span class="smcap">La +Guerre</span>.</p> +<p class="poetry">“No doubt we deserve it—no mercy we +crave—<br /> + Go on—you’re conferring a boon;<br /> +We would rather be slanged by a warrior brave,<br /> + Than praised by a wretched poltroon!”</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Makredi</span> would say +that in battle’s fierce rage<br /> + True happiness only was met:<br /> +Poor <span class="smcap">Major Makredi</span>, though fifty his +age,<br /> + Had never known happiness yet!</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">La Guerre</span> would +declare, “With the blood of a foe<br /> + No tipple is worthy to clink.”<br /> +Poor fellow! he hadn’t, though sixty or so,<br /> + Yet tasted his favourite drink!</p> +<p class="poetry">They agreed at their mess—they agreed in +the glass—<br /> + They agreed in the choice of their +“set,”<br /> +And they also agreed in adoring, alas!<br /> + The Vivandière, pretty <span +class="smcap">Fillette</span>.</p> +<p class="poetry">Agreement, you see, may be carried too far,<br +/> + And after agreeing all round<br /> +For years—in this soldierly “maid of the +bar,”<br /> + A bone of contention they found!</p> +<p class="poetry">It may seem improper to call such a +pet—<br /> + By a metaphor, even—a bone;<br /> +But though they agreed in adoring her, yet<br /> + Each wanted to make her his own.</p> +<p class="poetry">“On the day that you marry her,” +muttered <span class="smcap">Prepere</span><br /> + (With a pistol he quietly played),<br /> +“I’ll scatter the brains in your noddle, I swear,<br +/> + All over the stony parade!”</p> +<p class="poetry">“I cannot do <i>that</i> to you,” +answered <span class="smcap">La Guerre</span>,<br /> + “Whatever events may befall;<br /> +But this <i>I can</i> do—<i>if you</i> wed her, <i>mon +cher</i>!<br /> + I’ll eat you, moustachios and all!”</p> +<p class="poetry">The rivals, although they would never +engage,<br /> + Yet quarrelled whenever they met;<br /> +They met in a fury and left in a rage,<br /> + But neither took pretty <span +class="smcap">Fillette</span>.</p> +<p class="poetry">“I am not afraid,” thought <span +class="smcap">Makredi Prepere</span>:<br /> + “For country I’m ready to fall;<br /> +But nobody wants, for a mere Vivandière,<br /> + To be eaten, moustachios and all!</p> +<p class="poetry">“Besides, though <span class="smcap">La +Guerre</span> has his faults, I’ll allow<br /> + He’s one of the bravest of men:<br /> +My goodness! if I disagree with him now,<br /> + I might disagree with him then.”</p> +<p class="poetry">“No coward am I,” said <span +class="smcap">La Guerre</span>, “as you guess—<br /> + I sneer at an enemy’s blade;<br /> +But I don’t want <span class="smcap">Prepere</span> to get +into a mess<br /> + For splashing the stony parade!”</p> +<p class="poetry">One day on parade to <span +class="smcap">Prepere</span> and <span class="smcap">La +Guerre</span><br /> + Came <span class="smcap">Corporal Jacot +Debette</span>,<br /> +And trembling all over, he prayed of them there<br /> + To give him the pretty <span +class="smcap">Fillette</span>.</p> +<p class="poetry">“You see, I am willing to marry my +bride<br /> + Until you’ve arranged this affair;<br /> +I will blow out my brains when your honours decide<br /> + Which marries the sweet +Vivandière!”</p> +<p class="poetry">“Well, take her,” said both of them +in a duet<br /> + (A favourite form of reply),<br /> +“But when I am ready to marry <span +class="smcap">Fillette</span>.<br /> + Remember you’ve promised to die!”</p> +<p class="poetry">He married her then: from the flowery plains<br +/> + Of existence the roses they cull:<br /> +He lived and he died with his wife; and his brains<br /> + Are reposing in peace in his skull.</p> +<h2><a name="page405"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +405</span>EMILY, JOHN, JAMES, AND I.</h2> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">A DERBY +LEGEND</span></p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Emily Jane</span> was a +nursery maid,<br /> + <span class="smcap">James</span> was a bold Life +Guard,<br /> +<span class="smcap">John</span> was a constable, poorly paid<br +/> + (And I am a doggerel bard).</p> +<p class="poetry">A very good girl was <span class="smcap">Emily +Jane</span>,<br /> + <span class="smcap">Jimmy</span> was good and +true,<br /> +<span class="smcap">John</span> was a very good man in the +main<br /> + (And I am a good man too).</p> +<p class="poetry">Rivals for <span class="smcap">Emmie</span> +were <span class="smcap">Johnny</span> and <span +class="smcap">James</span>,<br /> + Though <span class="smcap">Emily</span> liked them +both;<br /> +She couldn’t tell which had the strongest claims<br /> + (And <i>I</i> couldn’t take my oath).</p> +<p class="poetry">But sooner or later you’re certain to +find<br /> + Your sentiments can’t lie hid—<br /> +<span class="smcap">Jane</span> thought it was time that she made +up her mind<br /> + (And I think it was time she did).</p> +<p class="poetry">Said <span class="smcap">Jane</span>, with a +smirk, and a blush on her face,<br /> + “I’ll promise to wed the boy<br /> +Who takes me to-morrow to Epsom Race!”<br /> + (Which I would have done, with joy).</p> +<p class="poetry">From <span class="smcap">Johnny</span> escaped +an expression of pain,<br /> + But Jimmy said, “Done with you!<br /> +I’ll take you with pleasure, my <span class="smcap">Emily +Jane</span>!”<br /> + (And I would have said so too).</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">John</span> lay on the +ground, and he roared like mad<br /> + (For <span class="smcap">Johnny</span> was sore +perplexed),<br /> +And he kicked very hard at a very small lad<br /> + (Which <i>I</i> often do, when vexed).</p> +<p class="poetry">For <span class="smcap">John</span> was on duty +next day with the Force,<br /> + To punish all Epsom crimes;<br /> +Young people <i>will</i> cross when they’re clearing the +course<br /> + (I do it myself, sometimes).</p> +<p style="text-align: center">* * * * * * * *</p> +<p class="poetry">The Derby Day sun glittered gaily on cads,<br +/> + On maidens with gamboge hair,<br /> +On sharpers and pickpockets, swindlers and pads,<br /> + (For I, with my harp, was there).</p> +<p class="poetry">And <span class="smcap">Jimmy</span> went down +with his <span class="smcap">Jane</span> that day,<br /> + And <span class="smcap">John</span> by the collar or +nape<br /> +Seized everybody who came in his way<br /> + (And <i>I</i> had a narrow escape).</p> +<p class="poetry">He noticed his <span class="smcap">Emily +Jane</span> with <span class="smcap">Jim</span>,<br /> + And envied the well-made elf;<br /> +And people remarked that he muttered “Oh, dim!”<br /> + (I often say “dim!” myself).</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">John</span> dogged them all +day, without asking their leaves;<br /> + For his sergeant he told, aside,<br /> +That <span class="smcap">Jimmy</span> and <span +class="smcap">Jane</span> were notorious thieves<br /> + (And I think he was justified).</p> +<p class="poetry">But <span class="smcap">James</span> +wouldn’t dream of abstracting a fork,<br /> + And <span class="smcap">Jenny</span> would blush +with shame<br /> +At stealing so much as a bottle or cork<br /> + (A bottle I think fair game).</p> +<p class="poetry">But, ah! there’s another more serious +crime!<br /> + They wickedly strayed upon<br /> +The course, at a critical moment of time<br /> + (I pointed them out to <span +class="smcap">John</span>).</p> +<p class="poetry">The constable fell on the pair in a +crack—<br /> + And then, with a demon smile,<br /> +Let <span class="smcap">Jenny</span> cross over, but sent <span +class="smcap">Jimmy</span> back<br /> + (I played on my harp the while).</p> +<p class="poetry">Stern <span class="smcap">Johnny</span> their +agony loud derides<br /> + With a very triumphant sneer—<br /> +They weep and they wail from the opposite sides<br /> + (And <i>I</i> shed a silent tear).</p> +<p class="poetry">And <span class="smcap">Jenny</span> is crying +away like mad,<br /> + And <span class="smcap">Jimmy</span> is swearing +hard;<br /> +And <span class="smcap">Johnny</span> is looking uncommonly +glad<br /> + (And I am a doggerel bard).</p> +<p class="poetry">But <span class="smcap">Jimmy</span> he +ventured on crossing again<br /> + The scenes of our Isthmian Games—<br /> +<span class="smcap">John</span> caught him, and collared him, +giving him pain<br /> + (I felt very much for <span +class="smcap">James</span>).</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">John</span> led him away +with a victor’s hand,<br /> + And <span class="smcap">Jimmy</span> was shortly +seen<br /> +In the station-house under the grand Grand Stand<br /> + (As many a time <i>I’ve</i> been).</p> +<p class="poetry">And <span class="smcap">Jimmy</span>, bad boy, +was imprisoned for life,<br /> + Though <span class="smcap">Emily</span> pleaded +hard;<br /> +And <span class="smcap">Johnny</span> had <span +class="smcap">Emily Jane</span> to wife<br /> + (And I am a doggerel bard).</p> +<h2><a name="page413"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 413</span>THE +PERILS OF INVISIBILITY</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Old Peter</span> led a +wretched life—<br /> +Old <span class="smcap">Peter</span> had a furious wife;<br /> +Old <span class="smcap">Peter</span> too was truly stout,<br /> +He measured several yards about.</p> +<p class="poetry">The little fairy <span +class="smcap">Picklekin</span><br /> +One summer afternoon looked in,<br /> +And said, “Old <span class="smcap">Peter</span>, how de +do?<br /> +Can I do anything for you?</p> +<p class="poetry">“I have three gifts—the first will +give<br /> +Unbounded riches while you live;<br /> +The second health where’er you be;<br /> +The third, invisibility.”</p> +<p class="poetry">“O little fairy <span +class="smcap">Picklekin</span>,”<br /> +Old <span class="smcap">Peter</span> answered with a grin,<br /> +“To hesitate would be absurd,—<br /> +Undoubtedly I choose the third.”</p> +<p class="poetry">“’Tis yours,” the fairy said; +“be quite<br /> +Invisible to mortal sight<br /> +Whene’er you please. Remember me<br /> +Most kindly, pray, to <span class="smcap">Mrs</span>. +P.”</p> +<p class="poetry">Old <span class="smcap">Mrs. Peter</span> +overheard<br /> +Wee <span class="smcap">Picklekin’s</span> concluding +word,<br /> +And, jealous of her girlhood’s choice,<br /> +Said, “That was some young woman’s voice!”</p> +<p class="poetry">Old <span class="smcap">Peter</span> let her +scold and swear—<br /> +Old <span class="smcap">Peter</span>, bless him, didn’t +care.<br /> +“My dear, your rage is wasted quite—<br /> +Observe, I disappear from sight!”</p> +<p class="poetry">A well-bred fairy (so I’ve heard)<br /> +Is always faithful to her word:<br /> +Old <span class="smcap">Peter</span> vanished like a shot,<br /> +Put then—<i>his suit of clothes did not</i>!</p> +<p class="poetry">For when conferred the fairy slim<br /> +Invisibility on <i>him</i>,<br /> +She popped away on fairy wings,<br /> +Without referring to his “things.”</p> +<p class="poetry">So there remained a coat of blue,<br /> +A vest and double eyeglass too,<br /> +His tail, his shoes, his socks as well,<br /> +His pair of—no, I must not tell.</p> +<p class="poetry">Old <span class="smcap">Mrs. Peter</span> soon +began<br /> +To see the failure of his plan,<br /> +And then resolved (I quote the Bard)<br /> +To “hoist him with his own petard.”</p> +<p class="poetry">Old <span class="smcap">Peter</span> woke next +day and dressed,<br /> +Put on his coat, and shoes, and vest,<br /> +His shirt and stock; <i>but could not find</i><br /> +<i>His only pair of</i>—never mind!</p> +<p class="poetry">Old <span class="smcap">Peter</span> was a +decent man,<br /> +And though he twigged his lady’s plan,<br /> +Yet, hearing her approaching, he<br /> +Resumed invisibility.</p> +<p class="poetry">“Dear <span class="smcap">Mrs</span>. P., +my only joy,”<br /> +Exclaimed the horrified old boy,<br /> +“Now, give them up, I beg of you—<br /> +You know what I’m referring to!”</p> +<p class="poetry">But no; the cross old lady swore<br /> +She’d keep his—what I said before—<br /> +To make him publicly absurd;<br /> +And <span class="smcap">Mrs. Peter</span> kept her word.</p> +<p class="poetry">The poor old fellow had no rest;<br /> +His coat, his stick, his shoes, his vest,<br /> +Were all that now met mortal eye—<br /> +The rest, invisibility!</p> +<p class="poetry">“Now, madam, give them up, I +beg—<br /> +I’ve had rheumatics in my leg;<br /> +Besides, until you do, it’s plain<br /> +I cannot come to sight again!</p> +<p class="poetry">“For though some mirth it might afford<br +/> +To see my clothes without their lord,<br /> +Yet there would rise indignant oaths<br /> +If he were seen without his clothes!”</p> +<p class="poetry">But no; resolved to have her quiz,<br /> +The lady held her own—and his—<br /> +And <span class="smcap">Peter</span> left his humble cot<br /> +To find a pair of—you know what.</p> +<p class="poetry">But—here’s the worst of the +affair—<br /> +Whene’er he came across a pair<br /> +Already placed for him to don,<br /> +He was too stout to get them on!</p> +<p class="poetry">So he resolved at once to train,<br /> +And walked and walked with all his main;<br /> +For years he paced this mortal earth,<br /> +To bring himself to decent girth.</p> +<p class="poetry">At night, when all around is still,<br /> +You’ll find him pounding up a hill;<br /> +And shrieking peasants whom he meets,<br /> +Fall down in terror on the peats!</p> +<p class="poetry">Old <span class="smcap">Peter</span> walks +through wind and rain,<br /> +Resolved to train, and train, and train,<br /> +Until he weighs twelve stone’ or so—<br /> +And when he does, I’ll let you know.</p> +<h2><a name="page420"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 420</span>OLD +PAUL AND OLD TIM</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">When</span> rival adorers +come courting a maid,<br /> +There’s something or other may often be said,<br /> +Why <i>he</i> should be pitched upon rather than <i>him</i>.<br +/> +This wasn’t the case with Old <span +class="smcap">Paul</span> and Old <span +class="smcap">Tim</span>.</p> +<p class="poetry">No soul could discover a reason at all<br /> +For marrying <span class="smcap">Timothy</span> rather than <span +class="smcap">Paul</span>;<br /> +Though all could have offered good reasons, on oath,<br /> +Against marrying either—or marrying both.</p> +<p class="poetry">They were equally wealthy and equally old,<br +/> +They were equally timid and equally bold;<br /> +They were equally tall as they stood in their shoes—<br /> +Between them, in fact, there was nothing to choose.</p> +<p class="poetry">Had I been young <span +class="smcap">Emily</span>, I should have said,<br /> +“You’re both much too old for a pretty young maid,<br +/> +Threescore at the least you are verging upon”;<br /> +But I wasn’t young <span class="smcap">Emily</span>. +Let us get on.</p> +<p class="poetry">No coward’s blood ran in young <span +class="smcap">Emily’s</span> veins,<br /> +Her martial old father loved bloody campaigns;<br /> +At the rumours of battles all over the globe<br /> +He pricked up his ears like the war-horse in +“Job.”</p> +<p class="poetry">He chuckled to hear of a sudden +surprise—<br /> +Of soldiers, compelled, through an enemy’s spies,<br /> +Without any knapsacks or shakos to flee—<br /> +For an eminent army-contractor was he.</p> +<p class="poetry">So when her two lovers, whose patience was +tried,<br /> +Implored her between them at once to decide,<br /> +She told them she’d marry whichever might bring<br /> +Good proofs of his doing the pluckiest thing.</p> +<p class="poetry">They both went away with a qualified joy:<br /> +That coward, Old <span class="smcap">Paul</span>, chose a very +small boy,<br /> +And when no one was looking, in spite of his fears,<br /> +He set to work boxing that little boy’s ears.</p> +<p class="poetry">The little boy struggled and tugged at his +hair,<br /> +But the lion was roused, and Old <span class="smcap">Paul</span> +didn’t care;<br /> +He smacked him, and whacked him, and boxed him, and kicked<br /> +Till the poor little beggar was royally licked.</p> +<p class="poetry">Old <span class="smcap">Tim</span> knew a trick +worth a dozen of that,<br /> +So he called for his stick and he called for his hat.<br /> +“I’ll cover myself with cheap glory—I’ll +go<br /> +And wallop the Frenchmen who live in Soho!</p> +<p class="poetry">“The German invader is ravaging France<br +/> +With infantry rifle and cavalry lance,<br /> +And beautiful Paris is fighting her best<br /> +To shake herself free from her terrible guest.</p> +<p class="poetry">“The Frenchmen in London, in craven +alarms,<br /> +Have all run away from the summons to arms;<br /> +They haven’t the pluck of a pigeon—I’ll go<br +/> +And wallop the Frenchmen who skulk in Soho!”</p> +<p class="poetry">Old <span class="smcap">Timothy</span> tried it +and found it succeed:<br /> +That day he caused many French noses to bleed;<br /> +Through foggy Soho he spread fear and dismay,<br /> +And Frenchmen all round him in agony lay.</p> +<p class="poetry">He took care to abstain from employing his +fist<br /> +On the old and the crippled, for they might resist;<br /> +A crippled old man may have pluck in his breast,<br /> +But the young and the strong ones are cowards confest.</p> +<p class="poetry">Old <span class="smcap">Tim</span> and Old +<span class="smcap">Paul</span>, with the list of their foes,<br +/> +Prostrated themselves at their <span +class="smcap">Emily’s</span> toes:<br /> +“Oh, which of us two is the pluckier blade?”<br /> +And <span class="smcap">Emily</span> answered and <span +class="smcap">Emily</span> said:</p> +<p class="poetry">“Old <span class="smcap">Tim</span> has +thrashed runaway Frenchmen in scores,<br /> +Who ought to be guarding their cities and shores;<br /> +Old <span class="smcap">Paul</span> has made little chaps’ +noses to bleed—<br /> +Old <span class="smcap">Paul</span> has accomplished the pluckier +deed!”</p> +<h2><a name="page426"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 426</span>THE +MYSTIC SELVAGEE</h2> +<p class="poetry">Perhaps already you may know<br /> +<span class="smcap">Sir Blennerhasset Portico</span>?<br /> +A Captain in the Navy, he—<br /> +A Baronet and K.C.B.<br /> + + +You do? I thought so!<br /> +It was that Captain’s favourite whim<br /> +(A notion not confined to him)<br /> +That <span class="smcap">Rodney</span> was the greatest tar<br /> +Who ever wielded capstan-bar.<br /> + + +He had been taught so.</p> +<p class="poetry">“<span class="smcap">Benbow</span>! +<span class="smcap">Cornwallis</span>! <span +class="smcap">Hood</span>!—Belay!<br /> +Compared with <span class="smcap">Rodney</span>”—he +would say—<br /> +“No other tar is worth a rap!<br /> +The great <span class="smcap">Lord Rodney</span> was the chap<br +/> + + +The French to polish!<br /> +Though, mind you, I respect <span class="smcap">Lord +Hood</span>;<br /> +<span class="smcap">Cornwallis</span>, too, was rather good;<br +/> +<span class="smcap">Benbow</span> could enemies repel,<br /> +<span class="smcap">Lord Nelson</span>, too, was pretty +well—<br /> + + +That is, tol-lol-ish!”</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Sir Blennerhasset</span> +spent his days<br /> +In learning <span class="smcap">Rodney’s</span> little +ways,<br /> +And closely imitated, too,<br /> +His mode of talking to his crew—<br /> + + +His port and paces.<br /> +An ancient tar he tried to catch<br /> +Who’d served in <span class="smcap">Rodney’s</span> +famous batch;<br /> +But since his time long years have fled,<br /> +And <span class="smcap">Rodney’s</span> tars are mostly +dead:<br /> + + +<i>Eheu fugaces</i>!</p> +<p class="poetry">But after searching near and far,<br /> +At last he found an ancient tar<br /> +Who served with <span class="smcap">Rodney</span> and his crew<br +/> +Against the French in ’Eighty-two,<br /> + + +(That gained the peerage).<br /> +He gave him fifty pounds a year,<br /> +His rum, his baccy, and his beer;<br /> +And had a comfortable den<br /> +Rigged up in what, by merchantmen,<br /> + + +Is called the steerage.</p> +<p class="poetry">“Now, <span +class="smcap">Jasper</span>”—’t was that +sailor’s name—<br /> +“Don’t fear that you’ll incur my blame<br /> +By saying, when it seems to you,<br /> +That there is anything I do<br /> + + +That <span class="smcap">Rodney</span> wouldn’t.”<br +/> +The ancient sailor turned his quid,<br /> +Prepared to do as he was bid:<br /> +“Ay, ay, yer honour; to begin,<br /> +You’ve done away with ‘swifting in’—<br +/> + + +Well, sir, you shouldn’t!</p> +<p class="poetry">“Upon your spars I see you’ve +clapped<br /> +Peak halliard blocks, all iron-capped.<br /> +I would not christen that a crime,<br /> +But ’twas not done in <span +class="smcap">Rodney’s</span> time.<br /> + + +It looks half-witted!<br /> +Upon your maintop-stay, I see,<br /> +You always clap a selvagee!<br /> +Your stays, I see, are equalized—<br /> +No vessel, such as <span class="smcap">Rodney</span> prized,<br +/> + + +Would thus be fitted!</p> +<p class="poetry">“And <span class="smcap">Rodney</span>, +honoured sir, would grin<br /> +To see you turning deadeyes in,<br /> +Not <i>up</i>, as in the ancient way,<br /> +But downwards, like a cutter’s stay—<br /> + + +You didn’t oughter;<br /> +Besides, in seizing shrouds on board,<br /> +Breast backstays you have quite ignored;<br /> +Great <span class="smcap">Rodney</span> kept unto the last<br /> +Breast backstays on topgallant mast—<br /> + + +They make it tauter.”</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Sir Blennerhasset</span> +“swifted in,”<br /> +Turned deadeyes up, and lent a fin<br /> +To strip (as told by <span class="smcap">Jasper Knox</span>)<br +/> +The iron capping from his blocks,<br /> + + +Where there was any.<br /> +<span class="smcap">Sir Blennerhasset</span> does away,<br /> +With selvagees from maintop-stay;<br /> +And though it makes his sailors stare,<br /> +He rigs breast backstays everywhere—<br /> + + +In fact, too many.</p> +<p class="poetry">One morning, when the saucy craft<br /> +Lay calmed, old <span class="smcap">Jasper</span> toddled aft.<br +/> +“My mind misgives me, sir, that we<br /> +Were wrong about that selvagee—<br /> + + +I should restore it.”<br /> +“Good,” said the Captain, and that day<br /> +Restored it to the maintop-stay.<br /> +Well-practised sailors often make<br /> +A much more serious mistake,<br /> + + +And then ignore it.</p> +<p class="poetry">Next day old <span class="smcap">Jasper</span> +came once more:<br /> +“I think, sir, I was right before.”<br /> +Well, up the mast the sailors skipped,<br /> +The selvagee was soon unshipped,<br /> + + +And all were merry.<br /> +Again a day, and <span class="smcap">Jasper</span> came:<br /> +“I p’r’aps deserve your honour’s +blame,<br /> +I can’t make up my mind,” said he,<br /> +“About that cursed selvagee—<br /> + + +It’s foolish—very.</p> +<p class="poetry">“On Monday night I could have sworn<br /> +That maintop-stay it should adorn,<br /> +On Tuesday morning I could swear<br /> +That selvagee should not be there.<br /> + + +The knot’s a rasper!”<br /> +“Oh, you be hanged,” said <span +class="smcap">Captain</span> P.,<br /> +“Here, go ashore at Caribbee.<br /> +Get out—good bye—shove off—all right!”<br +/> +Old <span class="smcap">Jasper</span> soon was out of +sight—<br /> + + +Farewell, old <span class="smcap">Jasper</span>!</p> +<h2><a name="page433"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 433</span>THE +CUNNING WOMAN</h2> +<p class="poetry">On all Arcadia’s sunny plain,<br /> + On all Arcadia’s hill,<br /> +None were so blithe as <span class="smcap">Bill</span> and <span +class="smcap">Jane</span>,<br /> + So blithe as <span class="smcap">Jane</span> and +<span class="smcap">Bill</span>.</p> +<p class="poetry">No social earthquake e’er occurred<br /> + To rack their common mind:<br /> +To them a Panic was a word—<br /> + A Crisis, empty wind.</p> +<p class="poetry">No Stock Exchange disturbed the lad<br /> + With overwhelming shocks—<br /> +<span class="smcap">Bill</span> ploughed with all the shares he +had,<br /> + <span class="smcap">Jane</span> planted all her +stocks.</p> +<p class="poetry">And learn in what a simple way<br /> + Their pleasures they enhanced—<br /> +<span class="smcap">Jane</span> danced like any lamb all day,<br +/> + <span class="smcap">Bill</span> piped as well as +danced.</p> +<p class="poetry">Surrounded by a twittling crew,<br /> + Of linnet, lark, and thrush,<br /> +<span class="smcap">Bill</span> treated his young lady to<br /> + This sentimental gush:</p> +<p class="poetry">“Oh, <span class="smcap">Jane</span>, how +true I am to you!<br /> + How true you are to me!<br /> +And how we woo, and how we coo!<br /> + So fond a pair are we!</p> +<p class="poetry">“To think, dear <span +class="smcap">Jane</span>, that anyways.<br /> + Your chiefest end and aim<br /> +Is, one of these fine summer days,<br /> + To bear my humble name!”</p> +<p class="poetry">Quoth <span class="smcap">Jane</span>, +“Well, as you put the case,<br /> + I’m true enough, no doubt,<br /> +But then, you see, in this here place<br /> + There’s none to cut you out.</p> +<p class="poetry">“But, oh! if anybody came—<br /> + A Lord or any such—<br /> +I do not think your humble name<br /> + Would fascinate me much.</p> +<p class="poetry">“For though your mates, you often +boast.<br /> + You distance out-and-out;<br /> +Still, in the abstract, you’re a most<br /> + Uncompromising lout!”</p> +<p class="poetry">Poor <span class="smcap">Bill</span>, he gave a +heavy sigh,<br /> + He tried in vain to speak—<br /> +A fat tear started to each eye<br /> + And coursed adown each cheek.</p> +<p class="poetry">For, oh! right well in truth he knew<br /> + That very self-same day,<br /> +The <span class="smcap">Lord de Jacob Pillaloo</span><br /> + Was coming there to stay!</p> +<p class="poetry">The <span class="smcap">Lord de Jacob +Pillaloo</span><br /> + All proper maidens shun—<br /> +He loves all women, it is true,<br /> + But never marries one.</p> +<p class="poetry">Now <span class="smcap">Jane</span>, with all +her mad self-will,<br /> + Was no coquette—oh no!<br /> +She really loved her faithful <span class="smcap">Bill</span>,<br +/> + And thus she tuned her woe:</p> +<p class="poetry">“Oh, willow, willow, o’er the +lea!<br /> + And willow once again!<br /> +The Peer will fall in love with me!<br /> + Why wasn’t I made plain?”</p> +<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p> +<p class="poetry">A cunning woman lived hard by,<br /> + A sorceressing dame,<br /> +<span class="smcap">MacCatacomb de Salmon-Eye</span><br /> + Was her uncommon name.</p> +<p class="poetry">To her good <span class="smcap">Jane</span>, +with kindly yearn<br /> + For <span class="smcap">Bill’s</span> +increasing pain,<br /> +Repaired in secrecy to learn<br /> + How best to make her plain.</p> +<p class="poetry">“Oh, <span +class="smcap">Jane</span>,” the worthy woman said,<br /> + “This mystic phial keep,<br /> +And rub its liquor in your head<br /> + Before you go to sleep.</p> +<p class="poetry">“When you awake next day, I trow,<br /> + You’ll look in form and hue<br /> +To others just as you do now—<br /> + But not to <span class="smcap">Pillaloo</span>!</p> +<p class="poetry">“When you approach him, you will find<br +/> + He’ll think you coarse—unkempt—<br +/> +And rudely bid you get behind,<br /> + With undisguised contempt.”</p> +<p class="poetry">The <span class="smcap">Lord de Pillaloo</span> +arrived<br /> + With his expensive train,<br /> +And when in state serenely hived,<br /> + He sent for <span class="smcap">Bill</span> and +<span class="smcap">Jane</span>.</p> +<p class="poetry">“Oh, spare her, <span class="smcap">Lord +of Pillaloo</span>!<br /> + (Said <span class="smcap">Bill</span>) if wed you +be,<br /> +There’s anything <i>I’d</i> rather do<br /> + Than flirt with <span class="smcap">Lady</span> +P.”</p> +<p class="poetry">The Lord he gazed in Jenny’s eyes,<br /> + He looked her through and through:<br /> +The cunning woman’s prophecies<br /> + Were clearly coming true.</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Lord Pillaloo</span>, the +Rustic’s Bane<br /> + (Bad person he, and proud),<br /> +<i>He laughed Ha</i>! <i>ha</i>! <i>at pretty</i> <span +class="smcap">Jane</span>,<br /> + <i>And sneered at her aloud</i>!</p> +<p class="poetry">He bade her get behind him then,<br /> + And seek her mother’s stye—<br /> +Yet to her native countrymen<br /> + She was as fair as aye!</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">MacCatacomb</span>, +continue green!<br /> + Grow, <span class="smcap">Salmon-Eye</span>, in +might,<br /> +Except for you, there might have been<br /> + The deuce’s own delight</p> +<h2><a name="page440"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +440</span>PHRENOLOGY</h2> +<p class="poetry">“<span class="smcap">Come</span>, collar +this bad man—<br /> + Around the throat he knotted me<br /> +Till I to choke began—<br /> + In point of fact, garotted me!”</p> +<p class="poetry">So spake <span class="smcap">Sir Herbert +Write</span><br /> + To <span class="smcap">James</span>, Policeman +Thirty-two—<br /> +All ruffled with his fight<br /> + <span class="smcap">Sir Herbert</span> was, and +dirty too.</p> +<p class="poetry">Policeman nothing said<br /> + (Though he had much to say on it),<br /> +But from the bad man’s head<br /> + He took the cap that lay on it.</p> +<p class="poetry">“No, great <span class="smcap">Sir +Herbert White</span>—<br /> + Impossible to take him up.<br /> +This man is honest quite—<br /> + Wherever did you rake him up?</p> +<p class="poetry">“For Burglars, Thieves, and Co.,<br /> + Indeed, I’m no apologist,<br /> +But I, some years ago,<br /> + Assisted a Phrenologist.</p> +<p class="poetry">“Observe his various bumps,<br /> + His head as I uncover it:<br /> +His morals lie in lumps<br /> + All round about and over it.”</p> +<p class="poetry">“Now take him,” said <span +class="smcap">Sir White</span>,<br /> + “Or you will soon be rueing it;<br /> +Bless me! I must be right,—<br /> + I caught the fellow doing it!”</p> +<p class="poetry">Policeman calmly smiled,<br /> + “Indeed you are mistaken, sir,<br /> +You’re agitated—riled—<br /> + And very badly shaken, sir.</p> +<p class="poetry">“Sit down, and I’ll explain<br /> + My system of Phrenology,<br /> +A second, please, remain”—<br /> + (A second is horology).</p> +<p class="poetry">Policeman left his beat—<br /> + (The Bart., no longer furious,<br /> +Sat down upon a seat,<br /> + Observing, “This is curious!”)</p> +<p class="poetry">“Oh, surely, here are signs<br /> + Should soften your rigidity:<br /> +This gentleman combines<br /> + Politeness with timidity.</p> +<p class="poetry">“Of Shyness here’s a lump—<br +/> + A hole for Animosity—<br /> +And like my fist his bump<br /> + Of Impecuniosity.</p> +<p class="poetry">“Just here the bump appears<br /> + Of Innocent Hilarity,<br /> +And just behind his ears<br /> + Are Faith, and Hope, and Charity.</p> +<p class="poetry">“He of true Christian ways<br /> + As bright example sent us is—<br /> +This maxim he obeys,<br /> + ‘<i>Sorte tuâ contentus +sis</i>.’</p> +<p class="poetry">“There, let him go his ways,<br /> + He needs no stern admonishing.”<br /> +The Bart., in blank amaze,<br /> + Exclaimed, “This is astonishing!</p> +<p class="poetry">“I <i>must</i> have made a mull,<br /> + This matter I’ve been blind in it:<br /> +Examine, please, <i>my</i> skull,<br /> + And tell me what you find in it.”</p> +<p class="poetry">That Crusher looked, and said,<br /> + With unimpaired urbanity,<br /> +“<span class="smcap">Sir Herbert</span>, you’ve a +head<br /> + That teems with inhumanity.</p> +<p class="poetry">“Here’s Murder, Envy, Strife<br /> + (Propensity to kill any),<br /> +And Lies as large as life,<br /> + And heaps of Social Villany.</p> +<p class="poetry">“Here’s Love of Bran-New +Clothes,<br /> + Embezzling—Arson—Deism—<br /> +A taste for Slang and Oaths,<br /> + And Fraudulent Trusteeism.</p> +<p class="poetry">“Here’s Love of Groundless +Charge—<br /> + Here’s Malice, too, and Trickery,<br /> +Unusually large<br /> + Your bump of Pocket-Pickery—”</p> +<p class="poetry">“Stop!” said the Bart., “my +cup<br /> + Is full—I’m worse than him in all;<br /> +Policeman, take me up—<br /> + No doubt I am some criminal!”</p> +<p class="poetry">That Pleeceman’s scorn grew large<br /> + (Phrenology had nettled it),<br /> +He took that Bart. in charge—<br /> + I don’t know how they settled it.</p> +<h2><a name="page446"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 446</span>THE +FAIRY CURATE</h2> +<p class="poetry"> <span +class="smcap">Once</span> a fairy<br /> + Light and airy<br /> +Married with a mortal;<br /> + Men, however,<br /> + Never, never<br /> +Pass the fairy portal.<br /> + Slyly stealing,<br /> + She to Ealing<br /> +Made a daily journey;<br /> + There she found him,<br /> + Clients round him<br /> +(He was an attorney).</p> +<p class="poetry"> Long they tarried,<br /> + Then they married.<br /> +When the ceremony<br /> + Once was ended,<br /> + Off they wended<br /> +On their moon of honey.<br /> + Twelvemonth, maybe,<br /> + Saw a baby<br /> +(Friends performed an orgie).<br /> + Much they prized him,<br /> + And baptized him<br /> +By the name of <span class="smcap">Georgie</span>.</p> +<p class="poetry"> <span +class="smcap">Georgie</span> grew up;<br /> + Then he flew up<br /> +To his fairy mother.<br /> + Happy meeting—<br /> + Pleasant greeting—<br /> +Kissing one another.<br /> + “Choose a calling<br /> + Most enthralling,<br /> +I sincerely urge ye.”<br /> + “Mother,” said he<br /> + (Rev’rence made he),<br /> +“I would join the clergy.</p> +<p class="poetry"> “Give permission<br /> + In addition—<br /> +Pa will let me do it:<br /> + There’s a living<br /> + In his giving—<br /> +He’ll appoint me to it.<br /> + Dreams of coff’ring,<br /> + Easter off’ring,<br /> +Tithe and rent and pew-rate,<br /> + So inflame me<br /> + (Do not blame me),<br /> +That I’ll be a curate.”</p> +<p class="poetry"> She, with pleasure,<br /> + Said, “My treasure,<br /> +’T is my wish precisely.<br /> + Do your duty,<br /> + There’s a beauty;<br /> +You have chosen wisely.<br /> + Tell your father<br /> + I would rather<br /> +As a churchman rank you.<br /> + You, in clover,<br /> + I’ll watch over.”<br /> +<span class="smcap">Georgie</span> said, “Oh, thank +you!”</p> +<p class="poetry"> <span +class="smcap">Georgie</span> scudded,<br /> + Went and studied,<br /> +Made all preparations,<br /> + And with credit<br /> + (Though he said it)<br /> +Passed examinations.<br /> + (Do not quarrel<br /> + With him, moral,<br /> +Scrupulous digestions—<br /> + ’Twas his mother,<br /> + And no other,<br /> +Answered all the questions.)</p> +<p class="poetry"> Time proceeded;<br /> + Little needed<br /> +<span class="smcap">Georgie</span> admonition:<br /> + He, elated,<br /> + Vindicated<br /> +Clergyman’s position.<br /> + People round him<br /> + Always found him<br /> +Plain and unpretending;<br /> + Kindly teaching,<br /> + Plainly preaching,<br /> +All his money lending.</p> +<p class="poetry"> So the fairy,<br /> + Wise and wary,<br /> +Felt no sorrow rising—<br /> + No occasion<br /> + For persuasion,<br /> +Warning, or advising.<br /> + He, resuming<br /> + Fairy pluming<br /> +(That’s not English, is it?)<br /> + Oft would fly up,<br /> + To the sky up,<br /> +Pay mamma a visit.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">* * * * * * * *</p> +<p class="poetry"> Time progressing,<br /> + <span class="smcap">Georgie’s</span> +blessing<br /> +Grew more Ritualistic—<br /> + Popish scandals,<br /> + Tonsures—sandals—<br /> +Genuflections mystic;<br /> + Gushing meetings—<br /> + Bosom-beatings—<br /> +Heavenly ecstatics—<br /> + Broidered spencers—<br /> + Copes and censers—<br /> +Rochets and dalmatics.</p> +<p class="poetry"> This quandary<br /> + Vexed the fairy—<br /> +Flew she down to Ealing.<br /> + “<span class="smcap">Georgie</span>, stop +it!<br /> + Pray you, drop it;<br /> +Hark to my appealing:<br /> + To this foolish<br /> + Papal rule-ish<br /> +Twaddle put an ending;<br /> + This a swerve is<br /> + From our Service<br /> +Plain and unpretending.”</p> +<p class="poetry"> He, replying,<br /> + Answered, sighing,<br /> +Hawing, hemming, humming,<br /> + “It’s a pity—<br /> + They’re so pritty;<br /> +Yet in mode becoming,<br /> + Mother tender,<br /> + I’ll surrender—<br /> +I’ll be unaffected—”<br /> + But his Bishop<br /> + Into <i>his</i> shop<br /> +Entered unexpected!</p> +<p class="poetry"> “Who is this, +sir,—<br /> + Ballet miss, sir?”<br /> +Said the Bishop coldly.<br /> + “’T is my mother,<br /> + And no other,”<br /> +<span class="smcap">Georgie</span> answered boldly.<br /> + “Go along, sir!<br /> + You are wrong, sir;<br /> +You have years in plenty,<br /> + While this hussy<br /> + (Gracious mussy!)<br /> +Isn’t two and twenty!”</p> +<p class="poetry"> (Fairies clever<br /> + Never, never<br /> +Grow in visage older;<br /> + And the fairy,<br /> + All unwary,<br /> +Leant upon his shoulder!)<br /> + Bishop grieved him,<br /> + Disbelieved him;<br /> +<span class="smcap">George</span> the point grew warm on;<br /> + Changed religion,<br /> + Like a pigeon, <a name="citation452"></a><a +href="#footnote452" class="citation">[452]</a><br /> +And became a Mormon!</p> +<h2><a name="page454"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 454</span>THE +WAY OF WOOING</h2> +<p class="poetry">A <span class="smcap">maiden</span> sat at her +window wide,<br /> +Pretty enough for a Prince’s bride,<br /> + Yet nobody came to claim her.<br /> +She sat like a beautiful picture there,<br /> +With pretty bluebells and roses fair,<br /> + And jasmine-leaves to frame her.<br /> +And why she sat there nobody knows;<br /> +But this she sang as she plucked a rose,<br /> + The leaves around her strewing:<br /> +“I’ve time to lose and power to choose;<br /> +’T is not so much the gallant who woos,<br /> + But the gallant’s <i>way</i> of +wooing!”</p> +<p class="poetry">A lover came riding by awhile,<br /> +A wealthy lover was he, whose smile<br /> + Some maids would value greatly—<br /> +A formal lover, who bowed and bent,<br /> +With many a high-flown compliment,<br /> + And cold demeanour stately,<br /> +“You’ve still,” said she to her suitor +stern,<br /> +“The ’prentice-work of your craft to learn,<br /> + If thus you come a-cooing.<br /> +I’ve time to lose and power to choose;<br /> +’T is not so much the gallant who woos,<br /> + As the gallant’s <i>way</i> of +wooing!”</p> +<p class="poetry">A second lover came ambling by—<br /> +A timid lad with a frightened eye<br /> + And a colour mantling highly.<br /> +He muttered the errand on which he’d come,<br /> +Then only chuckled and bit his thumb,<br /> + And simpered, simpered shyly.<br /> +“No,” said the maiden, “go your way;<br /> +You dare but think what a man would say,<br /> + Yet dare to come a-suing!<br /> +I’ve time to lose and power to choose;<br /> +’T is not so much the gallant who woos,<br /> + As the gallant’s <i>way</i> of +wooing!”</p> +<p class="poetry">A third rode up at a startling pace—<br +/> +A suitor poor, with a homely face—<br /> + No doubts appeared to bind him.<br /> +He kissed her lips and he pressed her waist,<br /> +And off he rode with the maiden, placed<br /> + On a pillion safe behind him.<br /> +And she heard the suitor bold confide<br /> +This golden hint to the priest who tied<br /> + The knot there’s no undoing;<br /> +“With pretty young maidens who can choose,<br /> +’Tis not so much the gallant who woos,<br /> + As the gallant’s <i>way</i> of +wooing!”</p> +<h2><a name="page460"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +460</span>HONGREE AND MAHRY</h2> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">A RICHARDSON +MELODRAMA</span></p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">The</span> sun was setting +in its wonted west,<br /> +When <span class="smcap">Hongree</span>, Sub-Lieutenant of +Chassoores,<br /> +Met <span class="smcap">Mahry Daubigny</span>, the Village +Rose,<br /> +Under the Wizard’s Oak—old trysting-place<br /> +Of those who loved in rosy Aquitaine.</p> +<p class="poetry">They thought themselves unwatched, but they +were not;<br /> +For <span class="smcap">Hongree</span>, Sub-Lieutenant of +Chassoores,<br /> +Found in <span class="smcap">Lieutenant-Colonel Jooles +Dubosc</span><br /> +A rival, envious and unscrupulous,<br /> +Who thought it not foul scorn to dodge his steps,<br /> +And listen, unperceived, to all that passed<br /> +Between the simple little Village Rose<br /> +And <span class="smcap">Hongree</span>, Sub-Lieutenant of +Chassoores.</p> +<p class="poetry">A clumsy barrack-bully was <span +class="smcap">Dubosc</span>,<br /> +Quite unfamiliar with the well-bred tact<br /> +That animates a proper gentleman<br /> +In dealing with a girl of humble rank.<br /> +You’ll understand his coarseness when I say<br /> +He would have married <span class="smcap">Mahry +Daubigny</span>,<br /> +And dragged the unsophisticated girl<br /> +Into the whirl of fashionable life,<br /> +For which her singularly rustic ways,<br /> +Her breeding (moral, but extremely rude),<br /> +Her language (chaste, but ungrammatical),<br /> +Would absolutely have unfitted her.<br /> +How different to this unreflecting boor<br /> +Was <span class="smcap">Hongree</span>, Sub-Lieutenant of +Chassoores.</p> +<p class="poetry">Contemporary with the incident<br /> +Related in our opening paragraph,<br /> +Was that sad war ’twixt Gallia and ourselves<br /> +That followed on the treaty signed at Troyes;<br /> +And so <span class="smcap">Lieutenant-Colonel Jooles +Dubosc</span><br /> +(Brave soldier, he, with all his faults of style)<br /> +And <span class="smcap">Hongree</span>, Sub-Lieutenant of +Chassoores,<br /> +Were sent by <span class="smcap">Charles</span> of France against +the lines<br /> +Of our Sixth <span class="smcap">Henry</span> (Fourteen +twenty-nine),<br /> +To drive his legions out of Aquitaine.</p> +<p class="poetry">When <span class="smcap">Hongree</span>, +Sub-Lieutenant of Chassoores,<br /> +Returned, suspecting nothing, to his camp,<br /> +After his meeting with the Village Rose,<br /> +He found inside his barrack letter-box<br /> +A note from the commanding officer,<br /> +Requiring his attendance at head-quarters.<br /> +He went, and found <span class="smcap">Lieutenant-Colonel +Jooles</span>.</p> +<p class="poetry">“Young <span +class="smcap">Hongree</span>, Sub-Lieutenant of Chassoores,<br /> +This night we shall attack the English camp:<br /> +Be the ‘forlorn hope’ yours—you’ll lead +it, sir,<br /> +And lead it too with credit, I’ve no doubt.<br /> +As every man must certainly be killed<br /> +(For you are twenty ’gainst two thousand men),<br /> +It is not likely that you will return.<br /> +But what of that? you’ll have the benefit<br /> +Of knowing that you die a soldier’s death.”</p> +<p class="poetry">Obedience was young <span +class="smcap">Hongree’s</span> strongest point,<br /> +But he imagined that he only owed<br /> +Allegiance to his <span class="smcap">Mahry</span> and his +King.<br /> +“If <span class="smcap">Mahry</span> bade me lead these +fated men,<br /> +I’d lead them—but I do not think she would.<br /> +If <span class="smcap">Charles</span>, my King, said, ‘Go, +my son, and die,’<br /> +I’d go, of course—my duty would be clear.<br /> +But <span class="smcap">Mahry</span> is in bed asleep, I hope,<br +/> +And <span class="smcap">Charles</span>, my King, a hundred +leagues from this.<br /> +As for <span class="smcap">Lieutenant-Colonel Jooles +Dubosc</span>,<br /> +How know I that our monarch would approve<br /> +The order he has given me to-night?<br /> +My King I’ve sworn in all things to obey—<br /> +I’ll only take my orders from my King!”<br /> +Thus <span class="smcap">Hongree</span>, Sub-Lieutenant of +Chassoores,<br /> +Interpreted the terms of his commission.</p> +<p class="poetry">And <span class="smcap">Hongree</span>, who was +wise as he was good,<br /> +Disguised himself that night in ample cloak,<br /> +Round flapping hat, and vizor mask of black,<br /> +And made, unnoticed, for the English camp.<br /> +He passed the unsuspecting sentinels<br /> +(Who little thought a man in this disguise<br /> +Could be a proper object of suspicion),<br /> +And ere the curfew bell had boomed “lights out,”<br +/> +He found in audience Bedford’s haughty Duke.</p> +<p class="poetry">“Your Grace,” he said, “start +not—be not alarmed,<br /> +Although a Frenchman stands before your eyes.<br /> +I’m <span class="smcap">Hongree</span>, Sub-Lieutenant of +Chassoores.<br /> +My Colonel will attack your camp to-night,<br /> +And orders me to lead the hope forlorn.<br /> +Now I am sure our excellent <span class="smcap">King +Charles</span><br /> +Would not approve of this; but he’s away<br /> +A hundred leagues, and rather more than that.<br /> +So, utterly devoted to my King,<br /> +Blinded by my attachment to the throne,<br /> +And having but its interest at heart,<br /> +I feel it is my duty to disclose<br /> +All schemes that emanate from <span class="smcap">Colonel +Jooles</span>,<br /> +If I believe that they are not the kind<br /> +Of schemes that our good monarch would approve.”</p> +<p class="poetry">“But how,” said Bedford’s +Duke, “do you propose<br /> +That we should overthrow your Colonel’s scheme?”<br +/> +And <span class="smcap">Hongree</span>, Sub-Lieutenant of +Chassoores,<br /> +Replied at once with never-failing tact:<br /> +“Oh, sir, I know this cursed country well.<br /> +Entrust yourself and all your host to me;<br /> +I’ll lead you safely by a secret path<br /> +Into the heart of <span class="smcap">Colonel +Jooles</span>’ array,<br /> +And you can then attack them unprepared,<br /> +And slay my fellow-countrymen unarmed.”</p> +<p class="poetry">The thing was done. The <span +class="smcap">Duke of Bedford</span> gave<br /> +The order, and two thousand fighting men<br /> +Crept silently into the Gallic camp,<br /> +And slew the Frenchmen as they lay asleep;<br /> +And Bedford’s haughty Duke slew <span class="smcap">Colonel +Jooles</span>,<br /> +And gave fair <span class="smcap">Mahry</span>, pride of +Aquitaine,<br /> +To <span class="smcap">Hongree</span>, Sub-Lieutenant of +Chassoores.</p> +<h2><a name="page541"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +541</span>ETIQUETTE</h2> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">The</span> +<i>Ballyshannon</i> foundered off the coast of Cariboo,<br /> +And down in fathoms many went the captain and the crew;<br /> +Down went the owners—greedy men whom hope of gain +allured:<br /> +Oh, dry the starting tear, for they were heavily insured.</p> +<p class="poetry">Besides the captain and the mate, the owners +and the crew,<br /> +The passengers were also drowned excepting only two:<br /> +Young <span class="smcap">Peter Gray</span>, who tasted teas for +<span class="smcap">Baker</span>, <span +class="smcap">Croop</span>, <span class="smcap">and +Co</span>.,<br /> +And <span class="smcap">Somers</span>, who from Eastern shores +imported indigo.</p> +<p class="poetry">These passengers, by reason of their clinging +to a mast,<br /> +Upon a desert island were eventually cast.<br /> +They hunted for their meals, as <span class="smcap">Alexander +Selkirk</span> used,<br /> +But they couldn’t chat together—they had not been +introduced.</p> +<p class="poetry">For <span class="smcap">Peter Gray</span>, and +<span class="smcap">Somers</span> too, though certainly in +trade,<br /> +Were properly particular about the friends they made;<br /> +And somehow thus they settled it without a word of +mouth—<br /> +That <span class="smcap">Gray</span> should take the northern +half, while <span class="smcap">Somers</span> took the south.</p> +<p class="poetry">On <span class="smcap">Peter’s</span> +portion oysters grew—a delicacy rare,<br /> +But oysters were a delicacy <span class="smcap">Peter</span> +couldn’t bear.<br /> +On <span class="smcap">Somers</span>’ side was turtle, on +the shingle lying thick,<br /> +Which <span class="smcap">Somers</span> couldn’t eat, +because it always made him sick.</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Gray</span> gnashed his +teeth with envy as he saw a mighty store<br /> +Of turtle unmolested on his fellow-creature’s shore.<br /> +The oysters at his feet aside impatiently he shoved,<br /> +For turtle and his mother were the only things he loved.</p> +<p class="poetry">And <span class="smcap">Somers</span> sighed in +sorrow as he settled in the south,<br /> +For the thought of <span class="smcap">Peter’s</span> +oysters brought the water to his mouth.<br /> +He longed to lay him down upon the shelly bed, and stuff:<br /> +He had often eaten oysters, but had never had enough.</p> +<p class="poetry">How they wished an introduction to each other +they had had<br /> +When on board the <i>Ballyshannon</i>! And it drove them +nearly mad<br /> +To think how very friendly with each other they might get,<br /> +If it wasn’t for the arbitrary rule of etiquette!</p> +<p class="poetry">One day, when out a-hunting for the <i>mus +ridiculus</i>,<br /> +<span class="smcap">Gray</span> overheard his fellow-man +soliloquizing thus:<br /> +“I wonder how the playmates of my youth are getting on,<br +/> +<span class="smcap">M‘Connell</span>, S. B. <span +class="smcap">Walters</span>, <span class="smcap">Paddy +Byles</span>, and <span class="smcap">Robinson</span>?”</p> +<p class="poetry">These simple words made <span +class="smcap">Peter</span> as delighted as could be,<br /> +Old chummies at the Charterhouse were <span +class="smcap">Robinson</span> and he!<br /> +He walked straight up to <span class="smcap">Somers</span>, then +he turned extremely red,<br /> +Hesitated, hummed and hawed a bit, then cleared his throat, and +said:</p> +<p class="poetry">“I beg your pardon—pray forgive me +if I seem too bold,<br /> +But you have breathed a name I knew familiarly of old.<br /> +You spoke aloud of <span class="smcap">Robinson</span>—I +happened to be by.<br /> +You know him?” “Yes, extremely +well.” “Allow me, so do I.”</p> +<p class="poetry">It was enough: they felt they could more +pleasantly get on,<br /> +For (ah, the magic of the fact!) they each knew <span +class="smcap">Robinson</span>!<br /> +And Mr. <span class="smcap">Somers</span>’ turtle was at +<span class="smcap">Peter’s</span> service quite,<br /> +And Mr. <span class="smcap">Somers</span> punished <span +class="smcap">Peter’s</span> oyster-beds all night.</p> +<p class="poetry">They soon became like brothers from community +of wrongs:<br /> +They wrote each other little odes and sang each other songs;<br +/> +They told each other anecdotes disparaging their wives;<br /> +On several occasions, too, they saved each other’s +lives.</p> +<p class="poetry">They felt quite melancholy when they parted for +the night,<br /> +And got up in the morning soon as ever it was light;<br /> +Each other’s pleasant company they reckoned so upon,<br /> +And all because it happened that they both knew <span +class="smcap">Robinson</span>!</p> +<p class="poetry">They lived for many years on that inhospitable +shore,<br /> +And day by day they learned to love each other more and more.<br +/> +At last, to their astonishment, on getting up one day,<br /> +They saw a frigate anchored in the offing of the bay.</p> +<p class="poetry">To <span class="smcap">Peter</span> an idea +occurred. “Suppose we cross the main?<br /> +So good an opportunity may not be found again.”<br /> +And <span class="smcap">Somers</span> thought a minute, then +ejaculated, “Done!<br /> +I wonder how my business in the City’s getting +on?”</p> +<p class="poetry">“But stay,” said Mr. <span +class="smcap">Peter</span>: “when in England, as you +know,<br /> +I earned a living tasting teas for <span +class="smcap">Baker</span>, <span class="smcap">Croop</span>, +<span class="smcap">and Co</span>.,<br /> +I may be superseded—my employers think me dead!”<br +/> +“Then come with me,” said <span +class="smcap">Somers</span>, “and taste indigo +instead.”</p> +<p class="poetry">But all their plans were scattered in a moment +when they found<br /> +The vessel was a convict ship from Portland, outward bound;<br /> +When a boat came off to fetch them, though they felt it very +kind,<br /> +To go on board they firmly but respectfully declined.</p> +<p class="poetry">As both the happy settlers roared with laughter +at the joke,<br /> +They recognized a gentlemanly fellow pulling stroke:<br /> +’Twas <span class="smcap">Robinson</span>—a convict, +in an unbecoming frock!<br /> +Condemned to seven years for misappropriating stock!!!</p> +<p class="poetry">They laughed no more, for <span +class="smcap">Somers</span> thought he had been rather rash<br /> +In knowing one whose friend had misappropriated cash;<br /> +And <span class="smcap">Peter</span> thought a foolish tack he +must have gone upon<br /> +In making the acquaintance of a friend of <span +class="smcap">Robinson</span>.</p> +<p class="poetry">At first they didn’t quarrel very openly, +I’ve heard;<br /> +They nodded when they met, and now and then exchanged a word:<br +/> +The word grew rare, and rarer still the nodding of the head,<br +/> +And when they meet each other now, they cut each other dead.</p> +<p class="poetry">To allocate the island they agreed by word of +mouth,<br /> +And <span class="smcap">Peter</span> takes the north again, and +<span class="smcap">Somers</span> takes the south;<br /> +And <span class="smcap">Peter</span> has the oysters, which he +hates, in layers thick,<br /> +And <span class="smcap">Somers</span> has the turtle—turtle +always makes him sick.</p> +<h2>FOOTNOTES</h2> +<p><a name="footnote287a"></a><a href="#citation287a" +class="footnote">[287a]</a> “Go with me to a +Notary—seal me there<br /> +Your single bond.”—<i>Merchant of Venice</i>, Act I., +sc. 3.</p> +<p><a name="footnote287b"></a><a href="#citation287b" +class="footnote">[287b]</a> “And there shall she, at +Friar Lawrence’ cell,<br /> +Be shrived and married.”—<i>Romeo and Juliet</i>, Act +II., sc. 4.</p> +<p><a name="footnote287c"></a><a href="#citation287c" +class="footnote">[287c]</a> “And give the fasting +horses provender.”—<i>Henry the Fifth</i>, Act IV., +sc. 2.</p> +<p><a name="footnote288a"></a><a href="#citation288a" +class="footnote">[288a]</a> “Let us, like merchants, +show our foulest wares.”—<i>Troilus and Cressida</i>, +Act I., sc. 3.</p> +<p><a name="footnote288b"></a><a href="#citation288b" +class="footnote">[288b]</a> “Then must the Jew be +merciful.”—<i>Merchant of Venice</i>, Act IV., sc. +1.</p> +<p><a name="footnote288c"></a><a href="#citation288c" +class="footnote">[288c]</a> “The spring, the +summer,<br /> +The chilling autumn, angry winter, change<br /> +Their wonted liveries.”—<i>Midsummer Night Dream</i>, +Act IV., sc. 1.</p> +<p><a name="footnote288d"></a><a href="#citation288d" +class="footnote">[288d]</a> “In the county of +Glo’ster, justice of the peace and +<i>coram</i>.”—<i>Merry Wives of Windsor</i>, Act I., +sc. 1.</p> +<p><a name="footnote288e"></a><a href="#citation288e" +class="footnote">[288e]</a> “What lusty trumpet thus +doth summon us?”—<i>King John</i>, Act V., sc. 2.</p> +<p><a name="footnote288f"></a><a href="#citation288f" +class="footnote">[288f]</a> “And I’ll provide +his executioner.”—<i>Henry the Sixth</i> (Second +Part), Act III., sc. 1.</p> +<p><a name="footnote288g"></a><a href="#citation288g" +class="footnote">[288g]</a> “The lioness had torn +some flesh away,<br /> +Which all this while had bled.”—<i>As You Like +It</i>, Act IV., sc. 3.</p> +<p><a name="footnote452"></a><a href="#citation452" +class="footnote">[452]</a> “Like a bird.”</p> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MORE BAB BALLADS***</p> +<pre> + + +***** This file should be named 933-h.htm or 933-h.zip****** + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/9/3/933 + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the 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Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a54456e --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #933 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/933) diff --git a/old/3babb10.txt b/old/3babb10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e23c623 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/3babb10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4814 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of More Bab Ballads, by W. S. Gilbert +(#4 in our series by W. S. Gilbert) + +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: More Bab Ballads + +Author: W. S. Gilbert + +Release Date: June, 1997 [EBook #933] +[This file was first posted on June 3, 1997] +[Most recently updated: May 21, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: US-ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, MORE BAB BALLADS *** + + + + +Transcribed by David Price, email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk + + + + +MORE BAB BALLADS + + + + +Contents: + +Mister William +The Bumboat Woman's Story +The Two Ogres +Little Oliver +Pasha Bailey Ben +Lieutenant-Colonel Flare +Lost Mr. Blake +The Baby's Vengeance +The Captain And The Mermaids +Annie Protheroe. A Legend of Stratford-Le-Bow +An Unfortunate Likeness +Gregory Parable, LL.D. +The King Of Canoodle-Dum +First Love +Brave Alum Bey +Sir Barnaby Bampton Boo +The Modest Couple +The Martinet +The Sailor Boy To His Lass +The Reverend Simon Magus +Damon v. Pythias +My Dream +The Bishop Of Rum-Ti-Foo Again +A Worm Will Turn +The Haughty Actor +The Two Majors +Emily, John, James, And I. A Derby Legend +The Perils Of Invisibility +Old Paul And Old Tim +The Mystic Selvagee +The Cunning Woman +Phrenology +The Fairy Curate +The Way Of Wooing +Hongree And Mahry. A Recollection Of A Surrey Melodrama +Etiquette + + + +Ballad: Mister William + + + +Oh, listen to the tale of MISTER WILLIAM, if you please, +Whom naughty, naughty judges sent away beyond the seas. +He forged a party's will, which caused anxiety and strife, +Resulting in his getting penal servitude for life. + +He was a kindly goodly man, and naturally prone, +Instead of taking others' gold, to give away his own. +But he had heard of Vice, and longed for only once to strike-- +To plan ONE little wickedness--to see what it was like. + +He argued with himself, and said, "A spotless man am I; +I can't be more respectable, however hard I try! +For six and thirty years I've always been as good as gold, +And now for half an hour I'll plan infamy untold! + +"A baby who is wicked at the early age of one, +And then reforms--and dies at thirty-six a spotless son, +Is never, never saddled with his babyhood's defect, +But earns from worthy men consideration and respect. + +"So one who never revelled in discreditable tricks +Until he reached the comfortable age of thirty-six, +May then for half an hour perpetrate a deed of shame, +Without incurring permanent disgrace, or even blame. + +"That babies don't commit such crimes as forgery is true, +But little sins develop, if you leave 'em to accrue; +And he who shuns all vices as successive seasons roll, +Should reap at length the benefit of so much self-control. + +"The common sin of babyhood--objecting to be drest-- +If you leave it to accumulate at compound interest, +For anything you know, may represent, if you're alive, +A burglary or murder at the age of thirty-five. + +"Still, I wouldn't take advantage of this fact, but be content +With some pardonable folly--it's a mere experiment. +The greater the temptation to go wrong, the less the sin; +So with something that's particularly tempting I'll begin. + +"I would not steal a penny, for my income's very fair-- +I do not want a penny--I have pennies and to spare-- +And if I stole a penny from a money-bag or till, +The sin would be enormous--the temptation being nil. + +"But if I broke asunder all such pettifogging bounds, +And forged a party's Will for (say) Five Hundred Thousand Pounds, +With such an irresistible temptation to a haul, +Of course the sin must be infinitesimally small. + +"There's WILSON who is dying--he has wealth from Stock and rent-- +If I divert his riches from their natural descent, +I'm placed in a position to indulge each little whim." +So he diverted them--and they, in turn, diverted him. + +Unfortunately, though, by some unpardonable flaw, +Temptation isn't recognized by Britain's Common Law; +Men found him out by some peculiarity of touch, +And WILLIAM got a "lifer," which annoyed him very much. + +For, ah! he never reconciled himself to life in gaol, +He fretted and he pined, and grew dispirited and pale; +He was numbered like a cabman, too, which told upon him so +That his spirits, once so buoyant, grew uncomfortably low. + +And sympathetic gaolers would remark, "It's very true, +He ain't been brought up common, like the likes of me and you." +So they took him into hospital, and gave him mutton chops, +And chocolate, and arrowroot, and buns, and malt and hops. + +Kind Clergymen, besides, grew interested in his fate, +Affected by the details of his pitiable state. +They waited on the Secretary, somewhere in Whitehall, +Who said he would receive them any day they liked to call. + +"Consider, sir, the hardship of this interesting case: +A prison life brings with it something very like disgrace; +It's telling on young WILLIAM, who's reduced to skin and bone-- +Remember he's a gentleman, with money of his own. + +"He had an ample income, and of course he stands in need +Of sherry with his dinner, and his customary weed; +No delicacies now can pass his gentlemanly lips-- +He misses his sea-bathing and his continental trips. + +"He says the other prisoners are commonplace and rude; +He says he cannot relish uncongenial prison food. +When quite a boy they taught him to distinguish Good from Bad, +And other educational advantages he's had. + +"A burglar or garotter, or, indeed, a common thief +Is very glad to batten on potatoes and on beef, +Or anything, in short, that prison kitchens can afford,-- +A cut above the diet in a common workhouse ward. + +"But beef and mutton-broth don't seem to suit our WILLIAM'S whim, +A boon to other prisoners--a punishment to him. +It never was intended that the discipline of gaol +Should dash a convict's spirits, sir, or make him thin or pale." + +"Good Gracious Me!" that sympathetic Secretary cried, +"Suppose in prison fetters MISTER WILLIAM should have died! +Dear me, of course! Imprisonment for LIFE his sentence saith: +I'm very glad you mentioned it--it might have been For Death! + +"Release him with a ticket--he'll be better then, no doubt, +And tell him I apologize." So MISTER WILLIAM'S out. +I hope he will be careful in his manuscripts, I'm sure, +And not begin experimentalizing any more. + + + +Ballad: The Bumboat Woman's Story + + + +I'm old, my dears, and shrivelled with age, and work, and grief, +My eyes are gone, and my teeth have been drawn by Time, the Thief! +For terrible sights I've seen, and dangers great I've run-- +I'm nearly seventy now, and my work is almost done! + +Ah! I've been young in my time, and I've played the deuce with men! +I'm speaking of ten years past--I was barely sixty then: +My cheeks were mellow and soft, and my eyes were large and sweet, +POLL PINEAPPLE'S eyes were the standing toast of the Royal Fleet! + +A bumboat woman was I, and I faithfully served the ships +With apples and cakes, and fowls, and beer, and halfpenny dips, +And beef for the generous mess, where the officers dine at nights, +And fine fresh peppermint drops for the rollicking midshipmites. + +Of all the kind commanders who anchored in Portsmouth Bay, +By far the sweetest of all was kind LIEUTENANT BELAYE.' +LIEUTENANT BELAYE commanded the gunboat Hot Cross Bun, +She was seven and thirty feet in length, and she carried a gun. + +With a laudable view of enhancing his country's naval pride, +When people inquired her size, LIEUTENANT BELAYE replied, +"Oh, my ship, my ship is the first of the Hundred and Seventy-ones!" +Which meant her tonnage, but people imagined it meant her guns. + +Whenever I went on board he would beckon me down below, +"Come down, Little Buttercup, come" (for he loved to call me so), +And he'd tell of the fights at sea in which he'd taken a part, +And so LIEUTENANT BELAYE won poor POLL PINEAPPLE'S heart! + +But at length his orders came, and he said one day, said he, +"I'm ordered to sail with the Hot Cross Bun to the German Sea." +And the Portsmouth maidens wept when they learnt the evil day, +For every Portsmouth maid loved good LIEUTENANT BELAYE. + +And I went to a back back street, with plenty of cheap cheap shops, +And I bought an oilskin hat and a second-hand suit of slops, +And I went to LIEUTENANT BELAYE (and he never suspected ME!) +And I entered myself as a chap as wanted to go to sea. + +We sailed that afternoon at the mystic hour of one,-- +Remarkably nice young men were the crew of the Hot Cross Bun, +I'm sorry to say that I've heard that sailors sometimes swear, +But I never yet heard a BUN say anything wrong, I declare. + +When Jack Tars meet, they meet with a "Messmate, ho! What cheer?" +But here, on the Hot Cross Bun, it was "How do you do, my dear?" +When Jack Tars growl, I believe they growl with a big big D- +But the strongest oath of the Hot Cross Buns was a mild "Dear me!" + +Yet, though they were all well-bred, you could scarcely call them +slick: +Whenever a sea was on, they were all extremely sick; +And whenever the weather was calm, and the wind was light and fair, +They spent more time than a sailor should on his back back hair. + +They certainly shivered and shook when ordered aloft to run, +And they screamed when LIEUTENANT BELAYE discharged his only gun. +And as he was proud of his gun--such pride is hardly wrong-- +The Lieutenant was blazing away at intervals all day long. + +They all agreed very well, though at times you heard it said +That BILL had a way of his own of making his lips look red-- +That JOE looked quite his age--or somebody might declare +That BARNACLE'S long pig-tail was never his own own hair. + +BELAYE would admit that his men were of no great use to him, +"But, then," he would say, "there is little to do on a gunboat trim +I can hand, and reef, and steer, and fire my big gun too-- +And it IS such a treat to sail with a gentle well-bred crew." + +I saw him every day. How the happy moments sped! +Reef topsails! Make all taut! There's dirty weather ahead! +(I do not mean that tempests threatened the Hot Cross Bun: +In THAT case, I don't know whatever we SHOULD have done!) + +After a fortnight's cruise, we put into port one day, +And off on leave for a week went kind LIEUTENANT BELAYE, +And after a long long week had passed (and it seemed like a life), +LIEUTENANT BELAYE returned to his ship with a fair young wife! + +He up, and he says, says he, "O crew of the Hot Cross Bun, +Here is the wife of my heart, for the Church has made us one!" +And as he uttered the word, the crew went out of their wits, +And all fell down in so many separate fainting-fits. + +And then their hair came down, or off, as the case might be, +And lo! the rest of the crew were simple girls, like me, +Who all had fled from their homes in a sailor's blue array, +To follow the shifting fate of kind LIEUTENANT BELAYE. + +* * * * * * * * + +It's strange to think that _I_ should ever have loved young men, +But I'm speaking of ten years past--I was barely sixty then, +And now my cheeks are furrowed with grief and age, I trow! +And poor POLL PINEAPPLE'S eyes have lost their lustre now! + + + +Ballad: The Two Ogres + + + +Good children, list, if you're inclined, +And wicked children too-- +This pretty ballad is designed +Especially for you. + +Two ogres dwelt in Wickham Wold-- +Each TRAITS distinctive had: +The younger was as good as gold, +The elder was as bad. + +A wicked, disobedient son +Was JAMES M'ALPINE, and +A contrast to the elder one, +Good APPLEBODY BLAND. + +M'ALPINE--brutes like him are few-- +In greediness delights, +A melancholy victim to +Unchastened appetites. + +Good, well-bred children every day +He ravenously ate,-- +All boys were fish who found their way +Into M'ALPINE'S net: + +Boys whose good breeding is innate, +Whose sums are always right; +And boys who don't expostulate +When sent to bed at night; + +And kindly boys who never search +The nests of birds of song; +And serious boys for whom, in church, +No sermon is too long. + +Contrast with JAMES'S greedy haste +And comprehensive hand, +The nice discriminating taste +Of APPLEBODY BLAND. + +BLAND only eats bad boys, who swear-- +Who CAN behave, but DON'T-- +Disgraceful lads who say "don't care," +And "shan't," and "can't," and "won't." + +Who wet their shoes and learn to box, +And say what isn't true, +Who bite their nails and jam their frocks, +And make long noses too; + +Who kick a nurse's aged shin, +And sit in sulky mopes; +And boys who twirl poor kittens in +Distracting zoetropes. + +But JAMES, when he was quite a youth, +Had often been to school, +And though so bad, to tell the truth, +He wasn't quite a fool. + +At logic few with him could vie; +To his peculiar sect +He could propose a fallacy +With singular effect. + +So, when his Mentors said, "Expound-- +Why eat good children--why?" +Upon his Mentors he would round +With this absurd reply: + +"I have been taught to love the good-- +The pure--the unalloyed-- +And wicked boys, I've understood, +I always should avoid. + +"Why do I eat good children--why? +Because I love them so!" +(But this was empty sophistry, +As your Papa can show.) + +Now, though the learning of his friends +Was truly not immense, +They had a way of fitting ends +By rule of common sense. + +"Away, away!" his Mentors cried, +"Thou uncongenial pest! +A quirk's a thing we can't abide, +A quibble we detest! + +"A fallacy in your reply +Our intellect descries, +Although we don't pretend to spy +Exactly where it lies. + +"In misery and penal woes +Must end a glutton's joys; +And learn how ogres punish those +Who dare to eat good boys. + +"Secured by fetter, cramp, and chain, +And gagged securely--so-- +You shall be placed in Drury Lane, +Where only good lads go. + +"Surrounded there by virtuous boys, +You'll suffer torture wus +Than that which constantly annoys +Disgraceful TANTALUS. + +("If you would learn the woes that vex +Poor TANTALUS, down there, +Pray borrow of Papa an ex- +Purgated LEMPRIERE.) + +"But as for BLAND who, as it seems, +Eats only naughty boys, +We've planned a recompense that teems +With gastronomic joys. + +"Where wicked youths in crowds are stowed +He shall unquestioned rule, +And have the run of Hackney Road +Reformatory School!" + + + +Ballad: Little Oliver + + + +EARL JOYCE he was a kind old party +Whom nothing ever could put out, +Though eighty-two, he still was hearty, +Excepting as regarded gout. + +He had one unexampled daughter, +The LADY MINNIE-HAHA JOYCE, +Fair MINNIE-HAHA, "Laughing Water," +So called from her melodious voice. + +By Nature planned for lover-capture, +Her beauty every heart assailed; +The good old nobleman with rapture +Observed how widely she prevailed + +Aloof from all the lordly flockings +Of titled swells who worshipped her, +There stood, in pumps and cotton stockings, +One humble lover--OLIVER. + +He was no peer by Fortune petted, +His name recalled no bygone age; +He was no lordling coronetted-- +Alas! he was a simple page! + +With vain appeals he never bored her, +But stood in silent sorrow by-- +He knew how fondly he adored her, +And knew, alas! how hopelessly! + +Well grounded by a village tutor +In languages alive and past, +He'd say unto himself, "Knee-suitor, +Oh, do not go beyond your last!" + +But though his name could boast no handle, +He could not every hope resign; +As moths will hover round a candle, +So hovered he about her shrine. + +The brilliant candle dazed the moth well: +One day she sang to her Papa +The air that MARIE sings with BOTHWELL +In NEIDERMEYER'S opera. + +(Therein a stable boy, it's stated, +Devoutly loved a noble dame, +Who ardently reciprocated +His rather injudicious flame.) + +And then, before the piano closing +(He listened coyly at the door), +She sang a song of her composing-- +I give one verse from half a score: + + +BALLAD + +Why, pretty page, art ever sighing? +Is sorrow in thy heartlet lying? +Come, set a-ringing +Thy laugh entrancing, +And ever singing +And ever dancing. +Ever singing, Tra! la! la! +Ever dancing, Tra! la! la! +Ever singing, ever dancing, +Ever singing, Tra! la! la! + +He skipped for joy like little muttons, +He danced like Esmeralda's kid. +(She did not mean a boy in buttons, +Although he fancied that she did.) + +Poor lad! convinced he thus would win her, +He wore out many pairs of soles; +He danced when taking down the dinner-- +He danced when bringing up the coals. + +He danced and sang (however laden) +With his incessant "Tra! la! la!" +Which much surprised the noble maiden, +And puzzled even her Papa. + +He nourished now his flame and fanned it, +He even danced at work below. +The upper servants wouldn't stand it, +And BOWLES the butler told him so. + +At length on impulse acting blindly, +His love he laid completely bare; +The gentle Earl received him kindly +And told the lad to take a chair. + +"Oh, sir," the suitor uttered sadly, +"Don't give your indignation vent; +I fear you think I'm acting madly, +Perhaps you think me insolent?" + +The kindly Earl repelled the notion; +His noble bosom heaved a sigh, +His fingers trembled with emotion, +A tear stood in his mild blue eye: + +For, oh! the scene recalled too plainly +The half-forgotten time when he, +A boy of nine, had worshipped vainly +A governess of forty-three! + +"My boy," he said, in tone consoling, +"Give up this idle fancy--do-- +The song you heard my daughter trolling +Did not, indeed, refer to you. + +"I feel for you, poor boy, acutely; +I would not wish to give you pain; +Your pangs I estimate minutely,-- +I, too, have loved, and loved in vain. + +"But still your humble rank and station +For MINNIE surely are not meet"-- +He said much more in conversation +Which it were needless to repeat. + +Now I'm prepared to bet a guinea, +Were this a mere dramatic case, +The page would have eloped with MINNIE, +But, no--he only left his place. + +The simple Truth is my detective, +With me Sensation can't abide; +The Likely beats the mere Effective, +And Nature is my only guide. + + + +Ballad: Pasha Bailey Ben + + + +A proud Pasha was BAILEY BEN, +His wives were three, his tails were ten; +His form was dignified, but stout, +Men called him "Little Roundabout." + +His Importance + +Pale Pilgrims came from o'er the sea +To wait on PASHA BAILEY B., +All bearing presents in a crowd, +For B. was poor as well as proud. + +His Presents + +They brought him onions strung on ropes, +And cold boiled beef, and telescopes, +And balls of string, and shrimps, and guns, +And chops, and tacks, and hats, and buns. + +More of them + +They brought him white kid gloves, and pails, +And candlesticks, and potted quails, +And capstan-bars, and scales and weights, +And ornaments for empty grates. + +Why I mention these + +My tale is not of these--oh no! +I only mention them to show +The divers gifts that divers men +Brought o'er the sea to BAILEY BEN. + +His Confidant + +A confidant had BAILEY B., +A gay Mongolian dog was he; +I am not good at Turkish names, +And so I call him SIMPLE JAMES. + +His Confidant's Countenance + +A dreadful legend you might trace +In SIMPLE JAMES'S honest face, +For there you read, in Nature's print, +"A Scoundrel of the Deepest Tint." + +His Character + +A deed of blood, or fire, or flames, +Was meat and drink to SIMPLE JAMES: +To hide his guilt he did not plan, +But owned himself a bad young man. + +The Author to his Reader + +And why on earth good BAILEY BEN +(The wisest, noblest, best of men) +Made SIMPLE JAMES his right-hand man +Is quite beyond my mental span. + +The same, continued + +But there--enough of gruesome deeds! +My heart, in thinking of them, bleeds; +And so let SIMPLE JAMES take wing,-- +'Tis not of him I'm going to sing. + +The Pasha's Clerk + +Good PASHA BAILEY kept a clerk +(For BAILEY only made his mark), +His name was MATTHEW WYCOMBE COO, +A man of nearly forty-two. + +His Accomplishments + +No person that I ever knew +Could "yodel" half as well as COO, +And Highlanders exclaimed, "Eh, weel!" +When COO began to dance a reel. + +His Kindness to the Pasha's Wives + +He used to dance and sing and play +In such an unaffected way, +He cheered the unexciting lives +Of PASHA BAILEY'S lovely wives. + +The Author to his Reader + +But why should I encumber you +With histories of MATTHEW COO? +Let MATTHEW COO at once take wing,-- +'Tis not of COO I'm going to sing. + +The Author's Muse + +Let me recall my wandering Muse; +She SHALL be steady if I choose-- +She roves, instead of helping me +To tell the deeds of BAILEY B. + +The Pasha's Visitor + +One morning knocked, at half-past eight, +A tall Red Indian at his gate. +In Turkey, as you're p'raps aware, +Red Indians are extremely rare. + +The Visitor's Outfit + +Mocassins decked his graceful legs, +His eyes were black, and round as eggs, +And on his neck, instead of beads, +Hung several Catawampous seeds. + +What the Visitor said + +"Ho, ho!" he said, "thou pale-faced one, +Poor offspring of an Eastern sun, +You've NEVER seen the Red Man skip +Upon the banks of Mississip!" + +The Author's Moderation + +To say that BAILEY oped his eyes +Would feebly paint his great surprise-- +To say it almost made him die +Would be to paint it much too high. + +The Author to his Reader + +But why should I ransack my head +To tell you all that Indian said; +We'll let the Indian man take wing,-- +'Tis not of him I'm going to sing. + +The Reader to the Author + +Come, come, I say, that's quite enough +Of this absurd disjointed stuff; +Now let's get on to that affair +About LIEUTENANT-COLONEL FLARE. + + + +Ballad: Lieutenant-Colonel Flare + + + +The earth has armies plenty, +And semi-warlike bands, +I dare say there are twenty +In European lands; +But, oh! in no direction +You'd find one to compare +In brotherly affection +With that of COLONEL FLARE. + +His soldiers might be rated +As military Pearls. +As unsophisticated +As pretty little girls! +They never smoked or ratted, +Or talked of Sues or Polls; +The Sergeant-Major tatted, +The others nursed their dolls. + +He spent his days in teaching +These truly solemn facts; +There's little use in preaching, +Or circulating tracts. +(The vainest plan invented +For stifling other creeds, +Unless it's supplemented +With charitable DEEDS.) + +He taught his soldiers kindly +To give at Hunger's call: +"Oh, better far give blindly, +Than never give at all! +Though sympathy be kindled +By Imposition's game, +Oh, better far be swindled +Than smother up its flame!" + +His means were far from ample +For pleasure or for dress, +Yet note this bright example +Of single-heartedness: +Though ranking as a Colonel, +His pay was but a groat, +While their reward diurnal +Was--each a five-pound note. + +Moreover,--this evinces +His kindness, you'll allow,-- +He fed them all like princes, +And lived himself on cow. +He set them all regaling +On curious wines, and dear, +While he would sit pale-ale-ing, +Or quaffing ginger-beer. + +Then at his instigation +(A pretty fancy this) +Their daily pay and ration +He'd take in change for his; +They brought it to him weekly, +And he without a groan, +Would take it from them meekly +And give them all his own! + +Though not exactly knighted +As knights, of course, should be, +Yet no one so delighted +In harmless chivalry. +If peasant girl or ladye +Beneath misfortunes sank, +Whate'er distinctions made he, +They were not those of rank. + +No maiden young and comely +Who wanted good advice +(However poor or homely) +Need ask him for it twice. +He'd wipe away the blindness +That comes of teary dew; +His sympathetic kindness +No sort of limit knew. + +He always hated dealing +With men who schemed or planned; +A person harsh--unfeeling-- +The Colonel could not stand. +He hated cold, suspecting, +Official men in blue, +Who pass their lives detecting +The crimes that others do. + +For men who'd shoot a sparrow, +Or immolate a worm +Beneath a farmer's harrow, +He could not find a term. +Humanely, ay, and knightly +He dealt with such an one; +He took and tied him tightly, +And blew him from a gun. + +The earth has armies plenty, +And semi-warlike bands, +I'm certain there are twenty +In European lands; +But, oh! in no direction +You'd find one to compare +In brotherly affection +With that of COLONEL FLARE. + + + +Ballad: Lost Mr. Blake + + + +MR. BLAKE was a regular out-and-out hardened sinner, +Who was quite out of the pale of Christianity, so to speak, +He was in the habit of smoking a long pipe and drinking a glass of grog +on a Sunday after dinner, +And seldom thought of going to church more than twice or--if Good +Friday or Christmas Day happened to come in it--three times a week. + +He was quite indifferent as to the particular kinds of dresses +That the clergyman wore at church where he used to go to pray, +And whatever he did in the way of relieving a chap's distresses, +He always did in a nasty, sneaking, underhanded, hole-and-corner sort +of way. + +I have known him indulge in profane, ungentlemanly emphatics, +When the Protestant Church has been divided on the subject of the +proper width of a chasuble's hem; +I have even known him to sneer at albs--and as for dalmatics, +Words can't convey an idea of the contempt he expressed for THEM. + +He didn't believe in persons who, not being well off themselves, are +obliged to confine their charitable exertions to collecting money from +wealthier people, +And looked upon individuals of the former class as ecclesiastical +hawks; +He used to say that he would no more think of interfering with his +priest's robes than with his church or his steeple, +And that he did not consider his soul imperilled because somebody over +whom he had no influence whatever, chose to dress himself up like an +exaggerated GUY FAWKES. + +This shocking old vagabond was so unutterably shameless +That he actually went a-courting a very respectable and pious middle- +aged sister, by the name of BIGGS. +She was a rather attractive widow, whose life as such had always been +particularly blameless; +Her first husband had left her a secure but moderate competence, owing +to some fortunate speculations in the matter of figs. + +She was an excellent person in every way--and won the respect even of +MRS. GRUNDY, +She was a good housewife, too, and wouldn't have wasted a penny if she +had owned the Koh-i-noor. +She was just as strict as he was lax in her observance of Sunday, +And being a good economist, and charitable besides, she took all the +bones and cold potatoes and broken pie-crusts and candle-ends (when she +had quite done with them), and made them into an excellent soup for the +deserving poor. + +I am sorry to say that she rather took to BLAKE--that outcast of +society, +And when respectable brothers who were fond of her began to look +dubious and to cough, +She would say, "Oh, my friends, it's because I hope to bring this poor +benighted soul back to virtue and propriety, +And besides, the poor benighted soul, with all his faults, was +uncommonly well off. + +And when MR. BLAKE'S dissipated friends called his attention to the +frown or the pout of her, +Whenever he did anything which appeared to her to savour of an +unmentionable place, +He would say that "she would be a very decent old girl when all that +nonsense was knocked out of her," +And his method of knocking it out of her is one that covered him with +disgrace. + +She was fond of going to church services four times every Sunday, and, +four or five times in the week, and never seemed to pall of them, +So he hunted out all the churches within a convenient distance that had +services at different hours, so to speak; +And when he had married her he positively insisted upon their going to +all of them, +So they contrived to do about twelve churches every Sunday, and, if +they had luck, from twenty-two to twenty-three in the course of the +week. + +She was fond of dropping his sovereigns ostentatiously into the plate, +and she liked to see them stand out rather conspicuously against the +commonplace half-crowns and shillings, +So he took her to all the charity sermons, and if by any extraordinary +chance there wasn't a charity sermon anywhere, he would drop a couple +of sovereigns (one for him and one for her) into the poor-box at the +door; +And as he always deducted the sums thus given in charity from the +housekeeping money, and the money he allowed her for her bonnets and +frillings, +She soon began to find that even charity, if you allow it to interfere +with your personal luxuries, becomes an intolerable bore. + +On Sundays she was always melancholy and anything but good society, +For that day in her household was a day of sighings and sobbings and +wringing of hands and shaking of heads: +She wouldn't hear of a button being sewn on a glove, because it was a +work neither of necessity nor of piety, +And strictly prohibited her servants from amusing themselves, or indeed +doing anything at all except dusting the drawing-rooms, cleaning the +boots and shoes, cooking the parlour dinner, waiting generally on the +family, and making the beds. +But BLAKE even went further than that, and said that people should do +their own works of necessity, and not delegate them to persons in a +menial situation, +So he wouldn't allow his servants to do so much as even answer a bell. +Here he is making his wife carry up the water for her bath to the +second floor, much against her inclination,-- +And why in the world the gentleman who illustrates these ballads has +put him in a cocked hat is more than I can tell. + +After about three months of this sort of thing, taking the smooth with +the rough of it, +(Blacking her own boots and peeling her own potatoes was not her notion +of connubial bliss), +MRS. BLAKE began to find that she had pretty nearly had enough of it, +And came, in course of time, to think that BLAKE'S own original line of +conduct wasn't so much amiss. + +And now that wicked person--that detestable sinner ("BELIAL BLAKE" his +friends and well-wishers call him for his atrocities), +And his poor deluded victim, whom all her Christian brothers dislike +and pity so, +Go to the parish church only on Sunday morning and afternoon and +occasionally on a week-day, and spend their evenings in connubial +fondlings and affectionate reciprocities, +And I should like to know where in the world (or rather, out of it) +they expect to go! + + + +Ballad: The Baby's Vengeance + + + +Weary at heart and extremely ill +Was PALEY VOLLAIRE of Bromptonville, +In a dirty lodging, with fever down, +Close to the Polygon, Somers Town. + +PALEY VOLLAIRE was an only son +(For why? His mother had had but one), +And PALEY inherited gold and grounds +Worth several hundred thousand pounds. + +But he, like many a rich young man, +Through this magnificent fortune ran, +And nothing was left for his daily needs +But duplicate copies of mortgage-deeds. + +Shabby and sorry and sorely sick, +He slept, and dreamt that the clock's "tick, tick," +Was one of the Fates, with a long sharp knife, +Snicking off bits of his shortened life. + +He woke and counted the pips on the walls, +The outdoor passengers' loud footfalls, +And reckoned all over, and reckoned again, +The little white tufts on his counterpane. + +A medical man to his bedside came. +(I can't remember that doctor's name), +And said, "You'll die in a very short while +If you don't set sail for Madeira's isle." + +"Go to Madeira? goodness me! +I haven't the money to pay your fee!" +"Then, PALEY VOLLAIRE," said the leech, "good bye; +I'll come no more, for your're sure to die." + +He sighed and he groaned and smote his breast; +"Oh, send," said he, "for FREDERICK WEST, +Ere senses fade or my eyes grow dim: +I've a terrible tale to whisper him!" + +Poor was FREDERICK'S lot in life,-- +A dustman he with a fair young wife, +A worthy man with a hard-earned store, +A hundred and seventy pounds--or more. + +FREDERICK came, and he said, "Maybe +You'll say what you happened to want with me?" +"Wronged boy," said PALEY VOLLAIRE, "I will, +But don't you fidget yourself--sit still." + + +THE TERRIBLE TALE. + + +"'Tis now some thirty-seven years ago +Since first began the plot that I'm revealing, +A fine young woman, whom you ought to know, +Lived with her husband down in Drum Lane, Ealing. +Herself by means of mangling reimbursing, +And now and then (at intervals) wet-nursing. + +"Two little babes dwelt in their humble cot: +One was her own--the other only lent to her: +HER OWN SHE SLIGHTED. Tempted by a lot +Of gold and silver regularly sent to her, +She ministered unto the little other +In the capacity of foster-mother. + +"I WAS HER OWN. Oh! how I lay and sobbed +In my poor cradle--deeply, deeply cursing +The rich man's pampered bantling, who had robbed +My only birthright--an attentive nursing! +Sometimes in hatred of my foster-brother, +I gnashed my gums--which terrified my mother. + +"One day--it was quite early in the week-- +I IN MY CRADLE HAVING PLACED THE BANTLING-- +Crept into his! He had not learnt to speak, +But I could see his face with anger mantling. +It was imprudent--well, disgraceful maybe, +For, oh! I was a bad, blackhearted baby! + +"So great a luxury was food, I think +No wickedness but I was game to try for it. +NOW if I wanted anything to drink +At any time, I only had to cry for it! +ONCE, if I dared to weep, the bottle lacking, +My blubbering involved a serious smacking! + +"We grew up in the usual way--my friend, +My foster-brother, daily growing thinner, +While gradually I began to mend, +And thrived amazingly on double dinner. +And every one, besides my foster-mother, +Believed that either of us was the other. + +"I came into HIS wealth--I bore HIS name, +I bear it still--HIS property I squandered-- +I mortgaged everything--and now (oh, shame!) +Into a Somers Town shake-down I've wandered! +I am no PALEY--no, VOLLAIRE--it's true, my boy! +The only rightful PALEY V. is YOU, my boy! + +"And all I have is yours--and yours is mine. +I still may place you in your true position: +Give me the pounds you've saved, and I'll resign +My noble name, my rank, and my condition. +So far my wickedness in falsely owning +Your vasty wealth, I am at last atoning!" + +* * * * * * * + +FREDERICK he was a simple soul, +He pulled from his pocket a bulky roll, +And gave to PALEY his hard-earned store, +A hundred and seventy pounds or more. + +PALEY VOLLAIRE, with many a groan, +Gave FREDERICK all that he called his own,-- +Two shirts and a sock, and a vest of jean, +A Wellington boot and a bamboo cane. + +And FRED (entitled to all things there) +He took the fever from MR. VOLLAIRE, +Which killed poor FREDERICK WEST. Meanwhile +VOLLAIRE sailed off to Madeira's isle. + + + +Ballad: The Captain And The Mermaids + + + +I sing a legend of the sea, +So hard-a-port upon your lee! +A ship on starboard tack! +She's bound upon a private cruise-- +(This is the kind of spice I use +To give a salt-sea smack). + +Behold, on every afternoon +(Save in a gale or strong Monsoon) +Great CAPTAIN CAPEL CLEGGS +(Great morally, though rather short) +Sat at an open weather-port +And aired his shapely legs. + +And Mermaids hung around in flocks, +On cable chains and distant rocks, +To gaze upon those limbs; +For legs like those, of flesh and bone, +Are things "not generally known" +To any Merman TIMBS. + +But Mermen didn't seem to care +Much time (as far as I'm aware) +With CLEGGS'S legs to spend; +Though Mermaids swam around all day +And gazed, exclaiming, "THAT'S the way +A gentleman should end! + +"A pair of legs with well-cut knees, +And calves and ankles such as these +Which we in rapture hail, +Are far more eloquent, it's clear +(When clothed in silk and kerseymere), +Than any nasty tail." + +And CLEGGS--a worthy kind old boy-- +Rejoiced to add to others' joy, +And, when the day was dry, +Because it pleased the lookers-on, +He sat from morn till night--though con- +Stitutionally shy. + +At first the Mermen laughed, "Pooh! pooh!" +But finally they jealous grew, +And sounded loud recalls; +But vainly. So these fishy males +Declared they too would clothe their tails +In silken hose and smalls. + +They set to work, these water-men, +And made their nether robes--but when +They drew with dainty touch +The kerseymere upon their tails, +They found it scraped against their scales, +And hurt them very much. + +The silk, besides, with which they chose +To deck their tails by way of hose +(They never thought of shoon), +For such a use was much too thin,-- +It tore against the caudal fin, +And "went in ladders" soon. + +So they designed another plan: +They sent their most seductive man +This note to him to show-- +"Our Monarch sends to CAPTAIN CLEGGS +His humble compliments, and begs +He'll join him down below; + +"We've pleasant homes below the sea-- +Besides, if CAPTAIN CLEGGS should be +(As our advices say) +A judge of Mermaids, he will find +Our lady-fish of every kind +Inspection will repay." + +Good CAPEL sent a kind reply, +For CAPEL thought he could descry +An admirable plan +To study all their ways and laws-- +(But not their lady-fish, because +He was a married man). + +The Merman sank--the Captain too +Jumped overboard, and dropped from view +Like stone from catapult; +And when he reached the Merman's lair, +He certainly was welcomed there, +But, ah! with what result? + +They didn't let him learn their law, +Or make a note of what he saw, +Or interesting mem.: +The lady-fish he couldn't find, +But that, of course, he didn't mind-- +He didn't come for them. + +For though, when CAPTAIN CAPEL sank, +The Mermen drawn in double rank +Gave him a hearty hail, +Yet when secure of CAPTAIN CLEGGS, +They cut off both his lovely legs, +And gave him SUCH a tail! + +When CAPTAIN CLEGGS returned aboard, +His blithesome crew convulsive roar'd, +To see him altered so. +The Admiralty did insist +That he upon the Half-pay List +Immediately should go. + +In vain declared the poor old salt, +"It's my misfortune--not my fault," +With tear and trembling lip-- +In vain poor CAPEL begged and begged. +"A man must be completely legged +Who rules a British ship." + +So spake the stern First Lord aloud-- +He was a wag, though very proud, +And much rejoiced to say, +"You're only half a captain now-- +And so, my worthy friend, I vow +You'll only get half-pay!" + + + +Ballad: Annie Protheroe. A Legend of Stratford-Le-Bow + + + +Oh! listen to the tale of little ANNIE PROTHEROE. +She kept a small post-office in the neighbourhood of BOW; +She loved a skilled mechanic, who was famous in his day-- +A gentle executioner whose name was GILBERT CLAY. + +I think I hear you say, "A dreadful subject for your rhymes!" +O reader, do not shrink--he didn't live in modern times! +He lived so long ago (the sketch will show it at a glance) +That all his actions glitter with the lime-light of Romance. + +In busy times he laboured at his gentle craft all day-- +"No doubt you mean his Cal-craft," you amusingly will say-- +But, no--he didn't operate with common bits of string, +He was a Public Headsman, which is quite another thing. + +And when his work was over, they would ramble o'er the lea, +And sit beneath the frondage of an elderberry tree, +And ANNIE'S simple prattle entertained him on his walk, +For public executions formed the subject of her talk. + +And sometimes he'd explain to her, which charmed her very much, +How famous operators vary very much in touch, +And then, perhaps, he'd show how he himself performed the trick, +And illustrate his meaning with a poppy and a stick. + +Or, if it rained, the little maid would stop at home, and look +At his favourable notices, all pasted in a book, +And then her cheek would flush--her swimming eyes would dance with joy +In a glow of admiration at the prowess of her boy. + +One summer eve, at supper-time, the gentle GILBERT said +(As he helped his pretty ANNIE to a slice of collared head), +"This reminds me I must settle on the next ensuing day +The hash of that unmitigated villain PETER GRAY." + +He saw his ANNIE tremble and he saw his ANNIE start, +Her changing colour trumpeted the flutter at her heart; +Young GILBERT'S manly bosom rose and sank with jealous fear, +And he said, "O gentle ANNIE, what's the meaning of this here?" + +And ANNIE answered, blushing in an interesting way, +"You think, no doubt, I'm sighing for that felon PETER GRAY: +That I was his young woman is unquestionably true, +But not since I began a-keeping company with you." + +Then GILBERT, who was irritable, rose and loudly swore +He'd know the reason why if she refused to tell him more; +And she answered (all the woman in her flashing from her eyes) +"You mustn't ask no questions, and you won't be told no lies! + +"Few lovers have the privilege enjoyed, my dear, by you, +Of chopping off a rival's head and quartering him too! +Of vengeance, dear, to-morrow you will surely take your fill!" +And GILBERT ground his molars as he answered her, "I will!" + +Young GILBERT rose from table with a stern determined look, +And, frowning, took an inexpensive hatchet from its hook; +And ANNIE watched his movements with an interested air-- +For the morrow--for the morrow he was going to prepare! + +He chipped it with a hammer and he chopped it with a bill, +He poured sulphuric acid on the edge of it, until +This terrible Avenger of the Majesty of Law +Was far less like a hatchet than a dissipated saw. + +And ANNIE said, "O GILBERT, dear, I do not understand +Why ever you are injuring that hatchet in your hand?' +He said, "It is intended for to lacerate and flay +The neck of that unmitigated villain PETER GRAY!" + +"Now, GILBERT," ANNIE answered, "wicked headsman, just beware-- +I won't have PETER tortured with that horrible affair; +If you appear with that, you may depend you'll rue the day." +But GILBERT said, "Oh, shall I?" which was just his nasty way. + +He saw a look of anger from her eyes distinctly dart, +For ANNIE was a woman, and had pity in her heart! +She wished him a good evening--he answered with a glare; +She only said, "Remember, for your ANNIE will be there!" + +* * * * * * * * + +The morrow GILBERT boldly on the scaffold took his stand, +With a vizor on his face and with a hatchet in his hand, +And all the people noticed that the Engine of the Law +Was far less like a hatchet than a dissipated saw. + +The felon very coolly loosed his collar and his stock, +And placed his wicked head upon the handy little block. +The hatchet was uplifted for to settle PETER GRAY, +When GILBERT plainly heard a woman's voice exclaiming, "Stay!" + +'Twas ANNIE, gentle ANNIE, as you'll easily believe. +"O GILBERT, you must spare him, for I bring him a reprieve, +It came from our Home Secretary many weeks ago, +And passed through that post-office which I used to keep at Bow. + +"I loved you, loved you madly, and you know it, GILBERT CLAY, +And as I'd quite surrendered all idea of PETER GRAY, +I quietly suppressed it, as you'll clearly understand, +For I thought it might be awkward if he came and claimed my hand. + +"In anger at my secret (which I could not tell before), +To lacerate poor PETER GRAY vindictively you swore; +I told you if you used that blunted axe you'd rue the day, +And so you will, young GILBERT, for I'll marry PETER GRAY!" + +[And so she did. + + + +Ballad: An Unfortunate Likeness + + + +I've painted SHAKESPEARE all my life-- +"An infant" (even then at "play"!) +"A boy," with stage-ambition rife, +Then "Married to ANN HATHAWAY." + +"The bard's first ticket night" (or "ben."), +His "First appearance on the stage," +His "Call before the curtain"--then +"Rejoicings when he came of age." + +The bard play-writing in his room, +The bard a humble lawyer's clerk. +The bard a lawyer {1}--parson {2}--groom {3}-- +The bard deer-stealing, after dark. + +The bard a tradesman {4}--and a Jew {5}-- +The bard a botanist {6}--a beak {7}-- +The bard a skilled musician {8} too-- +A sheriff {9} and a surgeon {10} eke! + +Yet critics say (a friendly stock) +That, though it's evident I try, +Yet even _I_ can barely mock +The glimmer of his wondrous eye! + +One morning as a work I framed, +There passed a person, walking hard: +"My gracious goodness," I exclaimed, +"How very like my dear old bard! + +"Oh, what a model he would make!" +I rushed outside--impulsive me!-- +"Forgive the liberty I take, +But you're so very"--"Stop!" said he. + +"You needn't waste your breath or time,-- +I know what you are going to say,-- +That you're an artist, and that I'm +Remarkably like SHAKESPEARE. Eh? + +"You wish that I would sit to you?" +I clasped him madly round the waist, +And breathlessly replied, "I do!" +"All right," said he, "but please make haste." + +I led him by his hallowed sleeve, +And worked away at him apace, +I painted him till dewy eve,-- +There never was a nobler face! + +"Oh, sir," I said, "a fortune grand +Is yours, by dint of merest chance,-- +To sport HIS brow at second-hand, +To wear HIS cast-off countenance! + +"To rub HIS eyes whene'er they ache-- +To wear HIS baldness ere you're old-- +To clean HIS teeth when you awake-- +To blow HIS nose when you've a cold!" + +His eyeballs glistened in his eyes-- +I sat and watched and smoked my pipe; +"Bravo!" I said, "I recognize +The phrensy of your prototype!" + +His scanty hair he wildly tore: +"That's right," said I, "it shows your breed." +He danced--he stamped--he wildly swore-- +"Bless me, that's very fine indeed!" + +"Sir," said the grand Shakesperian boy +(Continuing to blaze away), +"You think my face a source of joy; +That shows you know not what you say. + +"Forgive these yells and cellar-flaps: +I'm always thrown in some such state +When on his face well-meaning chaps +This wretched man congratulate. + +"For, oh! this face--this pointed chin-- +This nose--this brow--these eyeballs too, +Have always been the origin +Of all the woes I ever knew! + +"If to the play my way I find, +To see a grand Shakesperian piece, +I have no rest, no ease of mind +Until the author's puppets cease. + +"Men nudge each other--thus--and say, +'This certainly is SHAKESPEARE'S son,' +And merry wags (of course in play) +Cry 'Author!' when the piece is done. + +"In church the people stare at me, +Their soul the sermon never binds; +I catch them looking round to see, +And thoughts of SHAKESPEARE fill their minds. + +"And sculptors, fraught with cunning wile, +Who find it difficult to crown +A bust with BROWN'S insipid smile, +Or TOMKINS'S unmannered frown, + +"Yet boldly make my face their own, +When (oh, presumption!) they require +To animate a paving-stone +With SHAKESPEARE'S intellectual fire. + +"At parties where young ladies gaze, +And I attempt to speak my joy, +'Hush, pray,' some lovely creature says, +'The fond illusion don't destroy!' + +"Whene'er I speak, my soul is wrung +With these or some such whisperings: +''Tis pity that a SHAKESPEARE'S tongue +Should say such un-Shakesperian things!' + +"I should not thus be criticised +Had I a face of common wont: +Don't envy me--now, be advised!" +And, now I think of it, I don't! + + + +Ballad: Gregory Parable, LL.D. + + + +A leafy cot, where no dry rot +Had ever been by tenant seen, +Where ivy clung and wopses stung, +Where beeses hummed and drummed and strummed, +Where treeses grew and breezes blew-- +A thatchy roof, quite waterproof, +Where countless herds of dicky-birds +Built twiggy beds to lay their heads +(My mother begs I'll make it "eggs," +But though it's true that dickies do +Construct a nest with chirpy noise, +With view to rest their eggy joys, +'Neath eavy sheds, yet eggs and beds, +As I explain to her in vain +Five hundred times, are faulty rhymes). +'Neath such a cot, built on a plot +Of freehold land, dwelt MARY and +Her worthy father, named by me +GREGORY PARABLE, LL.D. + +He knew no guile, this simple man, +No worldly wile, or plot, or plan, +Except that plot of freehold land +That held the cot, and MARY, and +Her worthy father, named by me +GREGORY PARABLE, LL.D. + +A grave and learned scholar he, +Yet simple as a child could be. +He'd shirk his meal to sit and cram +A goodish deal of Eton Gram. +No man alive could him nonplus +With vocative of filius; +No man alive more fully knew +The passive of a verb or two; +None better knew the worth than he +Of words that end in b, d, t. +Upon his green in early spring +He might be seen endeavouring +To understand the hooks and crooks +Of HENRY and his Latin books; +Or calling for his "Caesar on +The Gallic War," like any don; +Or, p'raps, expounding unto all +How mythic BALBUS built a wall. +So lived the sage who's named by me +GREGORY PARABLE, LL.D. + +To him one autumn day there came +A lovely youth of mystic name: +He took a lodging in the house, +And fell a-dodging snipe and grouse, +For, oh! that mild scholastic one +Let shooting for a single gun. + +By three or four, when sport was o'er, +The Mystic One laid by his gun, +And made sheep's eyes of giant size, +Till after tea, at MARY P. +And MARY P. (so kind was she), +She, too, made eyes of giant size, +Whose every dart right through the heart +Appeared to run that Mystic One. +The Doctor's whim engrossing him, +He did not know they flirted so. +For, save at tea, "musa musae," +As I'm advised, monopolised +And rendered blind his giant mind. +But looking up above his cup +One afternoon, he saw them spoon. +"Aha!" quoth he, "you naughty lass! +As quaint old OVID says, 'Amas!'" + +The Mystic Youth avowed the truth, +And, claiming ruth, he said, "In sooth +I love your daughter, aged man: +Refuse to join us if you can. +Treat not my offer, sir, with scorn, +I'm wealthy though I'm lowly born." +"Young sir," the aged scholar said, +"I never thought you meant to wed: +Engrossed completely with my books, +I little noticed lovers' looks. +I've lived so long away from man, +I do not know of any plan +By which to test a lover's worth, +Except, perhaps, the test of birth. +I've half forgotten in this wild +A father's duty to his child. +It is his place, I think it's said, +To see his daughters richly wed +To dignitaries of the earth-- +If possible, of noble birth. +If noble birth is not at hand, +A father may, I understand +(And this affords a chance for you), +Be satisfied to wed her to +A BOUCICAULT or BARING--which +Means any one who's very rich. +Now, there's an Earl who lives hard by,-- +My child and I will go and try +If he will make the maid his bride-- +If not, to you she shall be tied." + +They sought the Earl that very day; +The Sage began to say his say. +The Earl (a very wicked man, +Whose face bore Vice's blackest ban) +Cut short the scholar's simple tale, +And said in voice to make them quail, +"Pooh! go along! you're drunk, no doubt-- +Here, PETERS, turn these people out!" + +The Sage, rebuffed in mode uncouth, +Returning, met the Mystic Youth. +"My darling boy," the Scholar said, +"Take MARY--blessings on your head!" + +The Mystic Boy undid his vest, +And took a parchment from his breast, +And said, "Now, by that noble brow, +I ne'er knew father such as thou! +The sterling rule of common sense +Now reaps its proper recompense. +Rejoice, my soul's unequalled Queen, +For I am DUKE OF GRETNA GREEN!" + + + +Ballad: The King Of Canoodle-Dum + + + +The story of FREDERICK GOWLER, +A mariner of the sea, +Who quitted his ship, the Howler, +A-sailing in Caribbee. +For many a day he wandered, +Till he met in a state of rum +CALAMITY POP VON PEPPERMINT DROP, +The King of Canoodle-Dum. + +That monarch addressed him gaily, +"Hum! Golly de do to-day? +Hum! Lily-white Buckra Sailee"-- +(You notice his playful way?)-- +"What dickens you doin' here, sar? +Why debbil you want to come? +Hum! Picaninnee, dere isn't no sea +In City Canoodle-Dum!" + +And GOWLER he answered sadly, +"Oh, mine is a doleful tale! +They've treated me werry badly +In Lunnon, from where I hail. +I'm one of the Family Royal-- +No common Jack Tar you see; +I'm WILLIAM THE FOURTH, far up in the North, +A King in my own countree!" + +Bang-bang! How the tom-toms thundered! +Bang-bang! How they thumped this gongs! +Bang-bang! How the people wondered! +Bang-bang! At it hammer and tongs! +Alliance with Kings of Europe +Is an honour Canoodlers seek, +Her monarchs don't stop with PEPPERMINT DROP +Every day in the week! + +FRED told them that he was undone, +For his people all went insane, +And fired the Tower of London, +And Grinnidge's Naval Fane. +And some of them racked St. James's, +And vented their rage upon +The Church of St. Paul, the Fishmongers' Hall, +And the Angel at Islington. + +CALAMITY POP implored him +In his capital to remain +Till those people of his restored him +To power and rank again. +CALAMITY POP he made him +A Prince of Canoodle-Dum, +With a couple of caves, some beautiful slaves, +And the run of the royal rum. + +Pop gave him his only daughter, +HUM PICKETY WIMPLE TIP: +FRED vowed that if over the water +He went, in an English ship, +He'd make her his Queen,--though truly +It is an unusual thing +For a Caribbee brat who's as black as your hat +To be wife of an English King. + +And all the Canoodle-Dummers +They copied his rolling walk, +His method of draining rummers, +His emblematical talk. +For his dress and his graceful breeding, +His delicate taste in rum, +And his nautical way, were the talk of the day +In the Court of Canoodle-Dum. + +CALAMITY POP most wisely +Determined in everything +To model his Court precisely +On that of the English King; +And ordered that every lady +And every lady's lord +Should masticate jacky (a kind of tobaccy), +And scatter its juice abroad. + +They signified wonder roundly +At any astounding yarn, +By darning their dear eyes roundly +('T was all they had to darn). +They "hoisted their slacks," adjusting +Garments of plantain-leaves +With nautical twitches (as if they wore breeches, +Instead of a dress like EVE'S!) + +They shivered their timbers proudly, +At a phantom forelock dragged, +And called for a hornpipe loudly +Whenever amusement flagged. +"Hum! Golly! him POP resemble, +Him Britisher sov'reign, hum! +CALAMITY POP VON PEPPERMINT DROP, +De King of Canoodle-Dum!" + +The mariner's lively "Hollo!" +Enlivened Canoodle's plain +(For blessings unnumbered follow +In Civilization's train). +But Fortune, who loves a bathos, +A terrible ending planned, +For ADMIRAL D. CHICKABIDDY, C.B., +Placed foot on Canoodle land! + +That rebel, he seized KING GOWLER, +He threatened his royal brains, +And put him aboard the Howler, +And fastened him down with chains. +The Howler she weighed her anchor, +With FREDERICK nicely nailed, +And off to the North with WILLIAM THE FOURTH +These horrible pirates sailed. + +CALAMITY said (with folly), +"Hum! nebber want him again-- +Him civilize all of us, golly! +CALAMITY suck him brain!" +The people, however, were pained when +They saw him aboard his ship, +But none of them wept for their FREDDY, except +HUM PICKETY WIMPLE TIP. + + + +Ballad: First Love + + + +A clergyman in Berkshire dwelt, +The REVEREND BERNARD POWLES, +And in his church there weekly knelt +At least a hundred souls. + +There little ELLEN you might see, +The modest rustic belle; +In maidenly simplicity, +She loved her BERNARD well. + +Though ELLEN wore a plain silk gown +Untrimmed with lace or fur, +Yet not a husband in the town +But wished his wife like her. + +Though sterner memories might fade, +You never could forget +The child-form of that baby-maid, +The Village Violet! + +A simple frightened loveliness, +Whose sacred spirit-part +Shrank timidly from worldly stress, +And nestled in your heart. + +POWLES woo'd with every well-worn plan +And all the usual wiles +With which a well-schooled gentleman +A simple heart beguiles. + +The hackneyed compliments that bore +World-folks like you and me, +Appeared to her as if they wore +The crown of Poesy. + +His winking eyelid sang a song +Her heart could understand, +Eternity seemed scarce too long +When BERNARD squeezed her hand. + +He ordered down the martial crew +Of GODFREY'S Grenadiers, +And COOTE conspired with TINNEY to +Ecstaticise her ears. + +Beneath her window, veiled from eye, +They nightly took their stand; +On birthdays supplemented by +The Covent Garden band. + +And little ELLEN, all alone, +Enraptured sat above, +And thought how blest she was to own +The wealth of POWLES'S love. + +I often, often wonder what +Poor ELLEN saw in him; +For calculated he was NOT +To please a woman's whim. + +He wasn't good, despite the air +An M.B. waistcoat gives; +Indeed, his dearest friends declare +No greater humbug lives. + +No kind of virtue decked this priest, +He'd nothing to allure; +He wasn't handsome in the least,-- +He wasn't even poor. + +No--he was cursed with acres fat +(A Christian's direst ban), +And gold--yet, notwithstanding that, +Poor ELLEN loved the man. + +As unlike BERNARD as could be +Was poor old AARON WOOD +(Disgraceful BERNARD'S curate he): +He was extremely good. + +A BAYARD in his moral pluck +Without reproach or fear, +A quiet venerable duck +With fifty pounds a year. + +No fault had he--no fad, except +A tendency to strum, +In mode at which you would have wept, +A dull harmonium. + +He had no gold with which to hire +The minstrels who could best +Convey a notion of the fire +That raged within his breast. + +And so, when COOTE and TINNEY'S Own +Had tootled all they knew, +And when the Guards, completely blown, +Exhaustedly withdrew, + +And NELL began to sleepy feel, +Poor AARON then would come, +And underneath her window wheel +His plain harmonium. + +He woke her every morn at two, +And having gained her ear, +In vivid colours AARON drew +The sluggard's grim career. + +He warbled Apiarian praise, +And taught her in his chant +To shun the dog's pugnacious ways, +And imitate the ant. + +Still NELL seemed not, how much he played, +To love him out and out, +Although the admirable maid +Respected him, no doubt. + +She told him of her early vow, +And said as BERNARD'S wife +It might be hers to show him how +To rectify his life. + +"You are so pure, so kind, so true, +Your goodness shines so bright, +What use would ELLEN be to you? +Believe me, you're all right." + +She wished him happiness and health, +And flew on lightning wings +To BERNARD with his dangerous wealth +And all the woes it brings. + + + +Ballad: Brave Alum Bey + + + +Oh, big was the bosom of brave ALUM BEY, +And also the region that under it lay, +In safety and peril remarkably cool, +And he dwelt on the banks of the river Stamboul. + +Each morning he went to his garden, to cull +A bunch of zenana or sprig of bul-bul, +And offered the bouquet, in exquisite bloom, +To BACKSHEESH, the daughter of RAHAT LAKOUM. + +No maiden like BACKSHEESH could tastily cook +A kettle of kismet or joint of tchibouk, +As ALUM, brave fellow! sat pensively by, +With a bright sympathetic ka-bob in his eye. + +Stern duty compelled him to leave her one day-- +(A ship's supercargo was brave ALUM BEY)-- +To pretty young BACKSHEESH he made a salaam, +And sailed to the isle of Seringapatam. + +"O ALUM," said she, "think again, ere you go-- +Hareems may arise and Moguls they may blow; +You may strike on a fez, or be drowned, which is wuss!" +But ALUM embraced her and spoke to her thus: + +"Cease weeping, fair BACKSHEESH! I willingly swear +Cork jackets and trousers I always will wear, +And I also throw in a large number of oaths +That I never--no, NEVER--will take off my clothes!" + +* * * * * + +They left Madagascar away on their right, +And made Clapham Common the following night, +Then lay on their oars for a fortnight or two, +Becalmed in the ocean of Honololu. + +One day ALUM saw, with alarm in his breast, +A cloud on the nor-sow-sow-nor-sow-nor-west; +The wind it arose, and the crew gave a scream, +For they knew it--they knew it!--the dreaded Hareem!! + +The mast it went over, and so did the sails, +Brave ALUM threw over his casks and his bales; +The billows arose as the weather grew thick, +And all except ALUM were terribly sick. + +The crew were but three, but they holloa'd for nine, +They howled and they blubbered with wail and with whine: +The skipper he fainted away in the fore, +For he hadn't the heart for to skip any more. + +"Ho, coward!" said ALUM, "with heart of a child! +Thou son of a party whose grave is defiled! +Is ALUM in terror? is ALUM afeard? +Ho! ho! If you had one I'd laugh at your beard." + +His eyeball it gleamed like a furnace of coke; +He boldly inflated his clothes as he spoke; +He daringly felt for the corks on his chest, +And he recklessly tightened the belt at his breast. + +For he knew, the brave ALUM, that, happen what might, +With belts and cork-jacketing, HE was all right; +Though others might sink, he was certain to swim,-- +No Hareem whatever had terrors for him! + +They begged him to spare from his personal store +A single cork garment--they asked for no more; +But he couldn't, because of the number of oaths +That he never--no, never!--would take off his clothes. + +The billows dash o'er them and topple around, +They see they are pretty near sure to be drowned. +A terrible wave o'er the quarter-deck breaks, +And the vessel it sinks in a couple of shakes! + +The dreadful Hareem, though it knows how to blow, +Expends all its strength in a minute or so; +When the vessel had foundered, as I have detailed, +The tempest subsided, and quiet prevailed. + +One seized on a cork with a yelling "Ha! ha!" +(Its bottle had 'prisoned a pint of Pacha)-- +Another a toothpick--another a tray-- +"Alas! it is useless!" said brave ALUM BEY. + +"To holloa and kick is a very bad plan: +Get it over, my tulips, as soon as you can; +You'd better lay hold of a good lump of lead, +And cling to it tightly until you are dead. + +"Just raise your hands over your pretty heads--so-- +Right down to the bottom you're certain to go. +Ta! ta! I'm afraid we shall not meet again"-- +For the truly courageous are truly humane. + +Brave ALUM was picked up the very next day-- +A man-o'-war sighted him smoking away; +With hunger and cold he was ready to drop, +So they sent him below and they gave him a chop. + +O reader, or readress, whichever you be, +You weep for the crew who have sunk in the sea? +O reader, or readress, read farther, and dry +The bright sympathetic ka-bob in your eye. + +That ship had a grapple with three iron spikes,-- +It's lowered, and, ha! on a something it strikes! +They haul it aboard with a British "heave-ho!" +And what it has fished the drawing will show. + +There was WILSON, and PARKER, and TOMLINSON, too-- +(The first was the captain, the others the crew)-- +As lively and spry as a Malabar ape, +Quite pleased and surprised at their happy escape. + +And ALUM, brave fellow, who stood in the fore, +And never expected to look on them more, +Was really delighted to see them again, +For the truly courageous are truly humane. + + + +Ballad: Sir Barnaby Bampton Boo + + + +This is SIR BARNABY BAMPTON BOO, +Last of a noble race, +BARNABY BAMPTON, coming to woo, +All at a deuce of a pace. +BARNABY BAMPTON BOO, +Here is a health to you: +Here is wishing you luck, you elderly buck-- +BARNABY BAMPTON BOO! + +The excellent women of Tuptonvee +Knew SIR BARNABY BOO; +One of them surely his bride would be, +But dickens a soul knew who. +Women of Tuptonvee, +Here is a health to ye +For a Baronet, dears, you would cut off your ears, +Women of Tuptonvee! + +Here are old MR. and MRS. DE PLOW +(PETER his Christian name), +They kept seven oxen, a pig, and a cow-- +Farming it was their game. +Worthy old PETER DE PLOW, +Here is a health to thou: +Your race isn't run, though you're seventy-one, +Worthy old PETER DE PLOW! + +To excellent MR. and MRS. DE PLOW +Came SIR BARNABY BOO, +He asked for their daughter, and told 'em as how +He was as rich as a Jew. +BARNABY BAMPTON'S wealth, +Here is your jolly good health: +I'd never repine if you came to be mine, +BARNABY BAMPTON'S wealth! + +"O great SIR BARNABY BAMPTON BOO" +(Said PLOW to that titled swell), +"My missus has given me daughters two-- +AMELIA and VOLATILE NELL!" +AMELIA and VOLATILE NELL, +I hope you're uncommonly well: +You two pretty pearls--you extremely nice girls-- +AMELIA and VOLATILE NELL! + +"AMELIA is passable only, in face, +But, oh! she's a worthy girl; +Superior morals like hers would grace +The home of a belted Earl." +Morality, heavenly link! +To you I'll eternally drink: +I'm awfully fond of that heavenly bond, +Morality, heavenly link! + +"Now NELLY'S the prettier, p'raps, of my gals, +But, oh! she's a wayward chit; +She dresses herself in her showy fal-lals, +And doesn't read TUPPER a bit!" +O TUPPER, philosopher true, +How do you happen to do? +A publisher looks with respect on your books, +For they DO sell, philosopher true! + +The Bart. (I'll be hanged if I drink him again, +Or care if he's ill or well), +He sneered at the goodness of MILLY THE PLAIN, +And cottoned to VOLATILE NELL! +O VOLATILE NELLY DE P.! +Be hanged if I'll empty to thee: +I like worthy maids, not mere frivolous jades, +VOLATILE NELLY DE P.! + +They bolted, the Bart. and his frivolous dear, +And MILLY was left to pout; +For years they've got on very well, as I hear, +But soon he will rue it, no doubt. +O excellent MILLY DE PLOW, +I really can't drink to you now; +My head isn't strong, and the song has been long, +Excellent MILLY DE PLOW! + + + +Ballad: The Modest Couple + + + +When man and maiden meet, I like to see a drooping eye, +I always droop my own--I am the shyest of the shy. +I'm also fond of bashfulness, and sitting down on thorns, +For modesty's a quality that womankind adorns. + +Whenever I am introduced to any pretty maid, +My knees they knock together, just as if I were afraid; +I flutter, and I stammer, and I turn a pleasing red, +For to laugh, and flirt, and ogle I consider most ill-bred. + +But still in all these matters, as in other things below, +There is a proper medium, as I'm about to show. +I do not recommend a newly-married pair to try +To carry on as PETER carried on with SARAH BLIGH. + +Betrothed they were when very young--before they'd learnt to speak +(For SARAH was but six days old, and PETER was a week); +Though little more than babies at those early ages, yet +They bashfully would faint when they occasionally met. + +They blushed, and flushed, and fainted, till they reached the age of +nine, +When PETER'S good papa (he was a Baron of the Rhine) +Determined to endeavour some sound argument to find +To bring these shy young people to a proper frame of mind. + +He told them that as SARAH was to be his PETER'S bride, +They might at least consent to sit at table side by side; +He begged that they would now and then shake hands, till he was hoarse, +Which SARAH thought indelicate, and PETER very coarse. + +And PETER in a tremble to the blushing maid would say, +"You must excuse papa, MISS BLIGH,--it is his mountain way." +Says SARAH, "His behaviour I'll endeavour to forget, +But your papa's the coarsest person that I ever met. + +"He plighted us without our leave, when we were very young, +Before we had begun articulating with the tongue. +His underbred suggestions fill your SARAH with alarm; +Why, gracious me! he'll ask us next to walk out arm-in-arm!" + +At length when SARAH reached the legal age of twenty-one, +The Baron he determined to unite her to his son; +And SARAH in a fainting-fit for weeks unconscious lay, +And PETER blushed so hard you might have heard him miles away. + +And when the time arrived for taking SARAH to his heart, +They were married in two churches half-a-dozen miles apart +(Intending to escape all public ridicule and chaff), +And the service was conducted by electric telegraph. + +And when it was concluded, and the priest had said his say, +Until the time arrived when they were both to drive away, +They never spoke or offered for to fondle or to fawn, +For HE waited in the attic, and SHE waited on the lawn. + +At length, when four o'clock arrived, and it was time to go, +The carriage was announced, but decent SARAH answered "No! +Upon my word, I'd rather sleep my everlasting nap, +Than go and ride alone with MR. PETER in a trap." + +And PETER'S over-sensitive and highly-polished mind +Wouldn't suffer him to sanction a proceeding of the kind; +And further, he declared he suffered overwhelming shocks +At the bare idea of having any coachman on the box. + +So PETER into one turn-out incontinently rushed, +While SARAH in a second trap sat modestly and blushed; +And MR. NEWMAN'S coachman, on authority I've heard, +Drove away in gallant style upon the coach-box of a third. + +Now, though this modest couple in the matter of the car +Were very likely carrying a principle too far, +I hold their shy behaviour was more laudable in them +Than that of PETER'S brother with MISS SARAH'S sister EM. + +ALPHONSO, who in cool assurance all creation licks, +He up and said to EMMIE (who had impudence for six), +"MISS EMILY, I love you--will you marry? Say the word!" +And EMILY said, "Certainly, ALPHONSO, like a bird!" + +I do not recommend a newly-married pair to try +To carry on as PETER carried on with SARAH BLIGH, +But still their shy behaviour was more laudable in them +Than that of PETER'S brother with MISS SARAH'S sister EM. + + + +Ballad: The Martinet + + + +Some time ago, in simple verse +I sang the story true +Of CAPTAIN REECE, the Mantelpiece, +And all her happy crew. + +I showed how any captain may +Attach his men to him, +If he but heeds their smallest needs, +And studies every whim. + +Now mark how, by Draconic rule +And hauteur ill-advised, +The noblest crew upon the Blue +May be demoralized. + +When his ungrateful country placed +Kind REECE upon half-pay, +Without much claim SIR BERKELY came, +And took command one day. + +SIR BERKELY was a martinet-- +A stern unyielding soul-- +Who ruled his ship by dint of whip +And horrible black-hole. + +A sailor who was overcome +From having freely dined, +And chanced to reel when at the wheel, +He instantly confined! + +And tars who, when an action raged, +Appeared alarmed or scared, +And those below who wished to go, +He very seldom spared. + +E'en he who smote his officer +For punishment was booked, +And mutinies upon the seas +He rarely overlooked. + +In short, the happy Mantelpiece, +Where all had gone so well, +Beneath that fool SIR BERKELY'S rule +Became a floating hell. + +When first SIR BERKELY came aboard +He read a speech to all, +And told them how he'd made a vow +To act on duty's call. + +Then WILLIAM LEE, he up and said +(The Captain's coxswain he), +"We've heard the speech your honour's made, +And werry pleased we be. + +"We won't pretend, my lad, as how +We're glad to lose our REECE; +Urbane, polite, he suited quite +The saucy Mantelpiece. + +"But if your honour gives your mind +To study all our ways, +With dance and song we'll jog along +As in those happy days. + +"I like your honour's looks, and feel +You're worthy of your sword. +Your hand, my lad--I'm doosid glad +To welcome you aboard!" + +SIR BERKELY looked amazed, as though +He didn't understand. +"Don't shake your head," good WILLIAM said, +"It is an honest hand. + +"It's grasped a better hand than yourn-- +Come, gov'nor, I insist!" +The Captain stared--the coxswain glared-- +The hand became a fist! + +"Down, upstart!" said the hardy salt; +But BERKELY dodged his aim, +And made him go in chains below: +The seamen murmured "Shame!" + +He stopped all songs at 12 p.m., +Stopped hornpipes when at sea, +And swore his cot (or bunk) should not +Be used by aught than he. + +He never joined their daily mess, +Nor asked them to his own, +But chaffed in gay and social way +The officers alone. + +His First Lieutenant, PETER, was +As useless as could be, +A helpless stick, and always sick +When there was any sea. + +This First Lieutenant proved to be +His foster-sister MAY, +Who went to sea for love of he +In masculine array. + +And when he learnt the curious fact, +Did he emotion show, +Or dry her tears or end her fears +By marrying her? No! + +Or did he even try to soothe +This maiden in her teens? +Oh, no!--instead he made her wed +The Sergeant of Marines! + +Of course such Spartan discipline +Would make an angel fret; +They drew a lot, and WILLIAM shot +This fearful martinet. + +The Admiralty saw how ill +They'd treated CAPTAIN REECE; +He was restored once more aboard +The saucy Mantelpiece. + + + +Ballad: The Sailor Boy To His Lass + + + +I go away this blessed day, +To sail across the sea, MATILDA! +My vessel starts for various parts +At twenty after three, MATILDA. +I hardly know where we may go, +Or if it's near or far, MATILDA, +For CAPTAIN HYDE does not confide +In any 'fore-mast tar, MATILDA! + +Beneath my ban that mystic man +Shall suffer, coute qui coute, MATILDA! +What right has he to keep from me +The Admiralty route, MATILDA? +Because, forsooth! I am a youth +Of common sailors' lot, MATILDA! +Am I a man on human plan +Designed, or am I not, MATILDA? + +But there, my lass, we'll let that pass! +With anxious love I burn, MATILDA. +I want to know if we shall go +To church when I return, MATILDA? +Your eyes are red, you bow your head; +It's pretty clear you thirst, MATILDA, +To name the day--What's that you say? +- "You'll see me further first," MATILDA? + +I can't mistake the signs you make, +Although you barely speak, MATILDA; +Though pure and young, you thrust your tongue +Right in your pretty cheek, MATILDA! +My dear, I fear I hear you sneer-- +I do--I'm sure I do, MATILDA! +With simple grace you make a face, +Ejaculating, "Ugh!" MATILDA. + +Oh, pause to think before you drink +The dregs of Lethe's cup, MATILDA! +Remember, do, what I've gone through, +Before you give me up, MATILDA! +Recall again the mental pain +Of what I've had to do, MATILDA! +And be assured that I've endured +It, all along of you, MATILDA! + +Do you forget, my blithesome pet, +How once with jealous rage, MATILDA, +I watched you walk and gaily talk +With some one thrice your age, MATILDA? +You squatted free upon his knee, +A sight that made me sad, MATILDA! +You pinched his cheek with friendly tweak, +Which almost drove me mad, MATILDA! + +I knew him not, but hoped to spot +Some man you thought to wed, MATILDA! +I took a gun, my darling one, +And shot him through the head, MATILDA! +I'm made of stuff that's rough and gruff +Enough, I own; but, ah, MATILDA! +It DID annoy your sailor boy +To find it was your pa, MATILDA! + +I've passed a life of toil and strife, +And disappointments deep, MATILDA; +I've lain awake with dental ache +Until I fell asleep, MATILDA! +At times again I've missed a train, +Or p'rhaps run short of tin, MATILDA, +And worn a boot on corns that shoot, +Or, shaving, cut my chin, MATILDA. + +But, oh! no trains--no dental pains-- +Believe me when I say, MATILDA, +No corns that shoot--no pinching boot +Upon a summer day, MATILDA-- +It's my belief, could cause such grief +As that I've suffered for, MATILDA, +My having shot in vital spot +Your old progenitor, MATILDA. + +Bethink you how I've kept the vow +I made one winter day, MATILDA-- +That, come what could, I never would +Remain too long away, MATILDA. +And, oh! the crimes with which, at times, +I've charged my gentle mind, MATILDA, +To keep the vow I made--and now +You treat me so unkind, MATILDA! + +For when at sea, off Caribbee, +I felt my passion burn, MATILDA, +By passion egged, I went and begged +The captain to return, MATILDA. +And when, my pet, I couldn't get +That captain to agree, MATILDA, +Right through a sort of open port +I pitched him in the sea, MATILDA! + +Remember, too, how all the crew +With indignation blind, MATILDA, +Distinctly swore they ne'er before +Had thought me so unkind, MATILDA. +And how they'd shun me one by one-- +An unforgiving group, MATILDA-- +I stopped their howls and sulky scowls +By pizening their soup, MATILDA! + +So pause to think, before you drink +The dregs of Lethe's cup, MATILDA; +Remember, do, what I've gone through, +Before you give me up, MATILDA. +Recall again the mental pain +Of what I've had to do, MATILDA, +And be assured that I've endured +It, all along of you, MATILDA! + + + +Ballad: The Reverend Simon Magus + + + +A rich advowson, highly prized, +For private sale was advertised; +And many a parson made a bid; +The REVEREND SIMON MAGUS did. + +He sought the agent's: "Agent, I +Have come prepared at once to buy +(If your demand is not too big) +The Cure of Otium-cum-Digge." + +"Ah!" said the agent, "THERE'S a berth-- +The snuggest vicarage on earth; +No sort of duty (so I hear), +And fifteen hundred pounds a year! + +"If on the price we should agree, +The living soon will vacant be; +The good incumbent's ninety five, +And cannot very long survive. + +See--here's his photograph--you see, +He's in his dotage." "Ah, dear me! +Poor soul!" said SIMON. "His decease +Would be a merciful release!" + +The agent laughed--the agent blinked-- +The agent blew his nose and winked-- +And poked the parson's ribs in play-- +It was that agent's vulgar way. + +The REVEREND SIMON frowned: "I grieve +This light demeanour to perceive; +It's scarcely comme il faut, I think: +Now--pray oblige me--do not wink. + +"Don't dig my waistcoat into holes-- +Your mission is to sell the souls +Of human sheep and human kids +To that divine who highest bids. + +"Do well in this, and on your head +Unnumbered honours will be shed." +The agent said, "Well, truth to tell, +I HAVE been doing very well." + +"You should," said SIMON, "at your age; +But now about the parsonage. +How many rooms does it contain? +Show me the photograph again. + +"A poor apostle's humble house +Must not be too luxurious; +No stately halls with oaken floor-- +It should be decent and no more. + +" No billiard-rooms--no stately trees-- +No croquet-grounds or pineries." +"Ah!" sighed the agent, "very true: +This property won't do for you." + +"All these about the house you'll find."-- +"Well," said the parson, "never mind; +I'll manage to submit to these +Luxurious superfluities. + +"A clergyman who does not shirk +The various calls of Christian work, +Will have no leisure to employ +These 'common forms' of worldly joy. + +"To preach three times on Sabbath days-- +To wean the lost from wicked ways-- +The sick to soothe--the sane to wed-- +The poor to feed with meat and bread; + + "These are the various wholesome ways +In which I'll spend my nights and days: +My zeal will have no time to cool +At croquet, archery, or pool." + +The agent said, "From what I hear, +This living will not suit, I fear-- +There are no poor, no sick at all; +For services there is no call." + +The reverend gent looked grave, "Dear me! +Then there is NO 'society'?-- +I mean, of course, no sinners there +Whose souls will be my special care?" + +The cunning agent shook his head, +"No, none--except"--(the agent said)-- +"The DUKE OF A., the EARL OF B., +The MARQUIS C., and VISCOUNT D. + +"But you will not be quite alone, +For though they've chaplains of their own, +Of course this noble well-bred clan +Receive the parish clergyman." + +"Oh, silence, sir!" said SIMON M., +"Dukes--Earls! What should I care for them? +These worldly ranks I scorn and flout!" +"Of course," the agent said, "no doubt!" + +"Yet I might show these men of birth +The hollowness of rank on earth." +The agent answered, "Very true-- +But I should not, if I were you." + +"Who sells this rich advowson, pray?" +The agent winked--it was his way-- +"His name is HART; 'twixt me and you, +He is, I'm grieved to say, a Jew!" + +"A Jew?" said SIMON, "happy find! +I purchase this advowson, mind. +My life shall be devoted to +Converting that unhappy Jew!" + + + +Ballad: Damon v. Pythias + + + +Two better friends you wouldn't pass +Throughout a summer's day, +Than DAMON and his PYTHIAS,-- +Two merchant princes they. + +At school together they contrived +All sorts of boyish larks; +And, later on, together thrived +As merry merchants' clerks. + +And then, when many years had flown, +They rose together till +They bought a business of their own-- +And they conduct it still. + +They loved each other all their lives, +Dissent they never knew, +And, stranger still, their very wives +Were rather friendly too. + +Perhaps you think, to serve my ends, +These statements I refute, +When I admit that these dear friends +Were parties to a suit? + +But 'twas a friendly action, for +Good PYTHIAS, as you see, +Fought merely as executor, +And DAMON as trustee. + +They laughed to think, as through the throng +Of suitors sad they passed, +That they, who'd lived and loved so long, +Should go to law at last. + +The junior briefs they kindly let +Two sucking counsel hold; +These learned persons never yet +Had fingered suitors' gold. + +But though the happy suitors two +Were friendly as could be, +Not so the junior counsel who +Were earning maiden fee. + +They too, till then, were friends. At school +They'd done each other's sums, +And under Oxford's gentle rule +Had been the closest chums. + +But now they met with scowl and grin +In every public place, +And often snapped their fingers in +Each other's learned face. + +It almost ended in a fight +When they on path or stair +Met face to face. They made it quite +A personal affair. + +And when at length the case was called +(It came on rather late), +Spectators really were appalled +To see their deadly hate. + +One junior rose--with eyeballs tense, +And swollen frontal veins: +To all his powers of eloquence +He gave the fullest reins. + +His argument was novel--for +A verdict he relied +On blackening the junior +Upon the other side. + +"Oh," said the Judge, in robe and fur, +"The matter in dispute +To arbitration pray refer-- +This is a friendly suit." + +And PYTHIAS, in merry mood, +Digged DAMON in the side; +And DAMON, tickled with the feud, +With other digs replied. + +But oh! those deadly counsel twain, +Who were such friends before, +Were never reconciled again-- +They quarrelled more and more. + +At length it happened that they met +On Alpine heights one day, +And thus they paid each one his debt, +Their fury had its way-- + +They seized each other in a trice, +With scorn and hatred filled, +And, falling from a precipice, +They, both of them, were killed. + + + +Ballad: My Dream + + + +The other night, from cares exempt, +I slept--and what d'you think I dreamt? +I dreamt that somehow I had come +To dwell in Topsy-Turveydom-- + +Where vice is virtue--virtue, vice: +Where nice is nasty--nasty, nice: +Where right is wrong and wrong is right-- +Where white is black and black is white. + +Where babies, much to their surprise, +Are born astonishingly wise; +With every Science on their lips, +And Art at all their finger-tips. + +For, as their nurses dandle them +They crow binomial theorem, +With views (it seems absurd to us) +On differential calculus. + +But though a babe, as I have said, +Is born with learning in his head, +He must forget it, if he can, +Before he calls himself a man. + +For that which we call folly here, +Is wisdom in that favoured sphere; +The wisdom we so highly prize +Is blatant folly in their eyes. + +A boy, if he would push his way, +Must learn some nonsense every day; +And cut, to carry out this view, +His wisdom teeth and wisdom too. + +Historians burn their midnight oils, +Intent on giant-killers' toils; +And sages close their aged eyes +To other sages' lullabies. + +Our magistrates, in duty bound, +Commit all robbers who are found; +But there the Beaks (so people said) +Commit all robberies instead. + +Our Judges, pure and wise in tone, +Know crime from theory alone, +And glean the motives of a thief +From books and popular belief. + +But there, a Judge who wants to prime +His mind with true ideas of crime, +Derives them from the common sense +Of practical experience. + +Policemen march all folks away +Who practise virtue every day-- +Of course, I mean to say, you know, +What we call virtue here below. + +For only scoundrels dare to do +What we consider just and true, +And only good men do, in fact, +What we should think a dirty act. + +But strangest of these social twirls, +The girls are boys--the boys are girls! +The men are women, too--but then, +Per contra, women all are men. + +To one who to tradition clings +This seems an awkward state of things, +But if to think it out you try, +It doesn't really signify. + +With them, as surely as can be, +A sailor should be sick at sea, +And not a passenger may sail +Who cannot smoke right through a gale. + +A soldier (save by rarest luck) +Is always shot for showing pluck +(That is, if others can be found +With pluck enough to fire a round). + +"How strange!" I said to one I saw; +"You quite upset our every law. +However can you get along +So systematically wrong?" + +"Dear me!" my mad informant said, +"Have you no eyes within your head? +You sneer when you your hat should doff: +Why, we begin where you leave off! + +"Your wisest men are very far +Less learned than our babies are!" +I mused awhile--and then, oh me! +I framed this brilliant repartee: + +"Although your babes are wiser far +Than our most valued sages are, +Your sages, with their toys and cots, +Are duller than our idiots!" + +But this remark, I grieve to state, +Came just a little bit too late +For as I framed it in my head, +I woke and found myself in bed. + +Still I could wish that, 'stead of here, +My lot were in that favoured sphere!-- +Where greatest fools bear off the bell +I ought to do extremely well. + + + +Ballad: The Bishop Of Rum-Ti-Foo Again + + + +I often wonder whether you +Think sometimes of that Bishop, who +From black but balmy Rum-ti-Foo +Last summer twelvemonth came. +Unto your mind I p'r'aps may bring +Remembrance of the man I sing +To-day, by simply mentioning +That PETER was his name. + +Remember how that holy man +Came with the great Colonial clan +To Synod, called Pan-Anglican; +And kindly recollect +How, having crossed the ocean wide, +To please his flock all means he tried +Consistent with a proper pride +And manly self-respect. + +He only, of the reverend pack +Who minister to Christians black, +Brought any useful knowledge back +To his Colonial fold. +In consequence a place I claim +For "PETER" on the scroll of Fame +(For PETER was that Bishop's name, +As I've already told). + +He carried Art, he often said, +To places where that timid maid +(Save by Colonial Bishops' aid) +Could never hope to roam. +The Payne-cum-Lauri feat he taught +As he had learnt it; for he thought +The choicest fruits of Progress ought +To bless the Negro's home. + +And he had other work to do, +For, while he tossed upon the Blue, +The islanders of Rum-ti-Foo +Forgot their kindly friend. +Their decent clothes they learnt to tear-- +They learnt to say, "I do not care," +Though they, of course, were well aware +How folks, who say so, end. + +Some sailors, whom he did not know, +Had landed there not long ago, +And taught them "Bother!" also, "Blow!" +(Of wickedness the germs). +No need to use a casuist's pen +To prove that they were merchantmen; +No sailor of the Royal N. +Would use such awful terms. + +And so, when BISHOP PETER came +(That was the kindly Bishop's name), +He heard these dreadful oaths with shame, +And chid their want of dress. +(Except a shell--a bangle rare-- +A feather here--a feather there +The South Pacific Negroes wear +Their native nothingness.) + +He taught them that a Bishop loathes +To listen to disgraceful oaths, +He gave them all his left-off clothes-- +They bent them to his will. +The Bishop's gift spreads quickly round; +In PETER'S left-off clothes they bound +(His three-and-twenty suits they found +In fair condition still). + +The Bishop's eyes with water fill, +Quite overjoyed to find them still +Obedient to his sovereign will, +And said, "Good Rum-ti-Foo! +Half-way I'll meet you, I declare: +I'll dress myself in cowries rare, +And fasten feathers in my hair, +And dance the 'Cutch-chi-boo!'" {11} + +And to conciliate his See +He married PICCADILLILLEE, +The youngest of his twenty-three, +Tall--neither fat nor thin. +(And though the dress he made her don +Looks awkwardly a girl upon, +It was a great improvement on +The one he found her in.) + +The Bishop in his gay canoe +(His wife, of course, went with him too) +To some adjacent island flew, +To spend his honeymoon. +Some day in sunny Rum-ti-Foo +A little PETER'll be on view; +And that (if people tell me true) +Is like to happen soon. + + + +Ballad: A Worm Will Turn + + + +I love a man who'll smile and joke +When with misfortune crowned; +Who'll pun beneath a pauper's yoke, +And as he breaks his daily toke, +Conundrums gay propound. + +Just such a man was BERNARD JUPP, +He scoffed at Fortune's frown; +He gaily drained his bitter cup-- +Though Fortune often threw him up, +It never cast him down. + +Though years their share of sorrow bring, +We know that far above +All other griefs, are griefs that spring +From some misfortune happening +To those we really love. + +E'en sorrow for another's woe +Our BERNARD failed to quell; +Though by this special form of blow +No person ever suffered so, +Or bore his grief so well. + +His father, wealthy and well clad, +And owning house and park, +Lost every halfpenny he had, +And then became (extremely sad!) +A poor attorney's clerk. + +All sons it surely would appal, +Except the passing meek, +To see a father lose his all, +And from an independence fall +To one pound ten a week! + +But JUPP shook off this sorrow's weight, +And, like a Christian son, +Proved Poverty a happy fate-- +Proved Wealth to be a devil's bait, +To lure poor sinners on. + +With other sorrows BERNARD coped, +For sorrows came in packs; +His cousins with their housemaids sloped-- +His uncles forged--his aunts eloped-- +His sisters married blacks. + +But BERNARD, far from murmuring +(Exemplar, friends, to us), +Determined to his faith to cling,-- +He made the best of everything, +And argued softly thus: + +"'Twere harsh my uncles' forging knack +Too rudely to condemn-- +My aunts, repentant, may come back, +And blacks are nothing like as black +As people colour them!" + +Still Fate, with many a sorrow rife, +Maintained relentless fight: +His grandmamma next lost her life, +Then died the mother of his wife, +But still he seemed all right. + +His brother fond (the only link +To life that bound him now) +One morning, overcome by drink, +He broke his leg (the right, I think) +In some disgraceful row. + +But did my BERNARD swear and curse? +Oh no--to murmur loth, +He only said, "Go, get a nurse: +Be thankful that it isn't worse; +You might have broken both!" + +But worms who watch without concern +The cockchafer on thorns, +Or beetles smashed, themselves will turn +If, walking through the slippery fern, +You tread upon their corns. + +One night as BERNARD made his track +Through Brompton home to bed, +A footpad, with a vizor black, +Took watch and purse, and dealt a crack +On BERNARD'S saint-like head. + +It was too much--his spirit rose, +He looked extremely cross. +Men thought him steeled to mortal foes, +But no--he bowed to countless blows, +But kicked against this loss. + +He finally made up his mind +Upon his friends to call; +Subscription lists were largely signed, +For men were really glad to find +Him mortal, after all! + + + +Ballad: The Haughty Actor + + + +An actor--GIBBS, of Drury Lane-- +Of very decent station, +Once happened in a part to gain +Excessive approbation: +It sometimes turns a fellow's brain +And makes him singularly vain +When he believes that he receives +Tremendous approbation. + +His great success half drove him mad, +But no one seemed to mind him; +Well, in another piece he had +Another part assigned him. +This part was smaller, by a bit, +Than that in which he made a hit. +So, much ill-used, he straight refused +To play the part assigned him. + +* * * * * * * * + +THAT NIGHT THAT ACTOR SLEPT, AND I'LL ATTEMPT +TO TELL YOU OF THE VIVID DREAM HE DREAMT. + + +THE DREAM. + + +In fighting with a robber band +(A thing he loved sincerely) +A sword struck GIBBS upon the hand, +And wounded it severely. +At first he didn't heed it much, +He thought it was a simple touch, +But soon he found the weapon's bound +Had wounded him severely. + +To Surgeon COBB he made a trip, +Who'd just effected featly +An amputation at the hip +Particularly neatly. +A rising man was Surgeon COBB +But this extremely ticklish job +He had achieved (as he believed) +Particularly neatly. + +The actor rang the surgeon's bell. +"Observe my wounded finger, +Be good enough to strap it well, +And prithee do not linger. +That I, dear sir, may fill again +The Theatre Royal Drury Lane: +This very night I have to fight-- +So prithee do not linger." + +"I don't strap fingers up for doles," +Replied the haughty surgeon; +"To use your cant, I don't play roles +Utility that verge on. +First amputation--nothing less-- +That is my line of business: +We surgeon nobs despise all jobs +Utility that verge on + +"When in your hip there lurks disease" +(So dreamt this lively dreamer), +"Or devastating caries +In humerus or femur, +If you can pay a handsome fee, +Oh, then you may remember me-- +With joy elate I'll amputate +Your humerus or femur." + +The disconcerted actor ceased +The haughty leech to pester, +But when the wound in size increased, +And then began to fester, +He sought a learned Counsel's lair, +And told that Counsel, then and there, +How COBB'S neglect of his defect +Had made his finger fester. + +"Oh, bring my action, if you please, +The case I pray you urge on, +And win me thumping damages +From COBB, that haughty surgeon. +He culpably neglected me +Although I proffered him his fee, +So pray come down, in wig and gown, +On COBB, that haughty surgeon!" + +That Counsel learned in the laws, +With passion almost trembled. +He just had gained a mighty cause +Before the Peers assembled! +Said he, "How dare you have the face +To come with Common Jury case +To one who wings rhetoric flings +Before the Peers assembled?" + +Dispirited became our friend-- +Depressed his moral pecker-- +"But stay! a thought!--I'll gain my end, +And save my poor exchequer. +I won't be placed upon the shelf, +I'll take it into Court myself, +And legal lore display before +The Court of the Exchequer." + +He found a Baron--one of those +Who with our laws supply us-- +In wig and silken gown and hose, +As if at Nisi Prius. +But he'd just given, off the reel, +A famous judgment on Appeal: +It scarce became his heightened fame +To sit at Nisi Prius. + +Our friend began, with easy wit, +That half concealed his terror: +"Pooh!" said the Judge, "I only sit +In Banco or in Error. +Can you suppose, my man, that I'd +O'er Nisi Prius Courts preside, +Or condescend my time to spend +On anything but Error?" + +"Too bad," said GIBBS, "my case to shirk! +You must be bad innately, +To save your skill for mighty work +Because it's valued greatly!" +But here he woke, with sudden start. + +* * * * * * * * + +He wrote to say he'd play the part. +I've but to tell he played it well-- +The author's words--his native wit +Combined, achieved a perfect "hit"-- +The papers praised him greatly. + + + +Ballad: The Two Majors + + + +An excellent soldier who's worthy the name +Loves officers dashing and strict: +When good, he's content with escaping all blame, +When naughty, he likes to be licked. + +He likes for a fault to be bullied and stormed, +Or imprisoned for several days, +And hates, for a duty correctly performed, +To be slavered with sickening praise. + +No officer sickened with praises his corps +So little as MAJOR LA GUERRE-- +No officer swore at his warriors more +Than MAJOR MAKREDI PREPERE. + +Their soldiers adored them, and every grade +Delighted to hear their abuse; +Though whenever these officers came on parade +They shivered and shook in their shoes. + +For, oh! if LA GUERRE could all praises withhold, +Why, so could MAKREDI PREPERE, +And, oh! if MAKREDI could bluster and scold, +Why, so could the mighty LA GUERRE. + +"No doubt we deserve it--no mercy we crave-- +Go on--you're conferring a boon; +We would rather be slanged by a warrior brave, +Than praised by a wretched poltroon!" + +MAKREDI would say that in battle's fierce rage +True happiness only was met: +Poor MAJOR MAKREDI, though fifty his age, +Had never known happiness yet! + +LA GUERRE would declare, "With the blood of a foe +No tipple is worthy to clink." +Poor fellow! he hadn't, though sixty or so, +Yet tasted his favourite drink! + +They agreed at their mess--they agreed in the glass-- +They agreed in the choice of their "set," +And they also agreed in adoring, alas! +The Vivandiere, pretty FILLETTE. + +Agreement, you see, may be carried too far, +And after agreeing all round +For years--in this soldierly "maid of the bar," +A bone of contention they found! + +It may seem improper to call such a pet-- +By a metaphor, even--a bone; +But though they agreed in adoring her, yet +Each wanted to make her his own. + +"On the day that you marry her," muttered PREPERE +(With a pistol he quietly played), +"I'll scatter the brains in your noddle, I swear, +All over the stony parade!" + +"I cannot do THAT to you," answered LA GUERRE, +"Whatever events may befall; +But this _I_ CAN do--IF YOU wed her, mon cher! +I'll eat you, moustachios and all!" + +The rivals, although they would never engage, +Yet quarrelled whenever they met; +They met in a fury and left in a rage, +But neither took pretty FILLETTE. + +"I am not afraid," thought MAKREDI PREPERE: +"For country I'm ready to fall; +But nobody wants, for a mere Vivandiere, +To be eaten, moustachios and all! + +"Besides, though LA GUERRE has his faults, I'll allow +He's one of the bravest of men: +My goodness! if I disagree with him now, +I might disagree with him then." + +"No coward am I," said LA GUERRE, "as you guess-- +I sneer at an enemy's blade; +But I don't want PREPERE to get into a mess +For splashing the stony parade!" + +One day on parade to PREPERE and LA GUERRE +Came CORPORAL JACOT DEBETTE, +And trembling all over, he prayed of them there +To give him the pretty FILLETTE. + +"You see, I am willing to marry my bride +Until you've arranged this affair; +I will blow out my brains when your honours decide +Which marries the sweet Vivandiere!" + +"Well, take her,' said both of them in a duet +(A favourite form of reply), +"But when I am ready to marry FILLETTE. +Remember you've promised to die!" + +He married her then: from the flowery plains +Of existence the roses they cull: +He lived and he died with his wife; and his brains +Are reposing in peace in his skull. + + + +Ballad: Emily, John, James, And I. A Derby Legend + + + +EMILY JANE was a nursery maid, +JAMES was a bold Life Guard, +JOHN was a constable, poorly paid +(And I am a doggerel bard). + +A very good girl was EMILY JANE, +JIMMY was good and true, +JOHN was a very good man in the main +(And I am a good man too). + +Rivals for EMMIE were JOHNNY and JAMES, +Though EMILY liked them both; +She couldn't tell which had the strongest claims +(And _I_ couldn't take my oath). + +But sooner or later you're certain to find +Your sentiments can't lie hid-- +JANE thought it was time that she made up her mind +(And I think it was time she did). + +Said JANE, with a smirk, and a blush on her face, +"I'll promise to wed the boy +Who takes me to-morrow to Epsom Race!" +(Which I would have done, with joy). + +From JOHNNY escaped an expression of pain, +But Jimmy said, "Done with you! +I'll take you with pleasure, my EMILY JANE!" +(And I would have said so too). + +JOHN lay on the ground, and he roared like mad +(For JOHNNY was sore perplexed), +And he kicked very hard at a very small lad +(Which _I_ often do, when vexed). + +For JOHN was on duty next day with the Force, +To punish all Epsom crimes; +Young people WILL cross when they're clearing the course +(I do it myself, sometimes). + +* * * * * * * * + +The Derby Day sun glittered gaily on cads, +On maidens with gamboge hair, +On sharpers and pickpockets, swindlers and pads, +(For I, with my harp, was there). + +And JIMMY went down with his JANE that day, +And JOHN by the collar or nape +Seized everybody who came in his way +(And _I_ had a narrow escape). + +He noticed his EMILY JANE with JIM, +And envied the well-made elf; +And people remarked that he muttered "Oh, dim!" +(I often say "dim!" myself). + +JOHN dogged them all day, without asking their leaves; +For his sergeant he told, aside, +That JIMMY and JANE were notorious thieves +(And I think he was justified). + +But JAMES wouldn't dream of abstracting a fork, +And JENNY would blush with shame +At stealing so much as a bottle or cork +(A bottle I think fair game). + +But, ah! there's another more serious crime! +They wickedly strayed upon +The course, at a critical moment of time +(I pointed them out to JOHN). + +The constable fell on the pair in a crack-- +And then, with a demon smile, +Let JENNY cross over, but sent JIMMY back +(I played on my harp the while). + +Stern JOHNNY their agony loud derides +With a very triumphant sneer-- +They weep and they wail from the opposite sides +(And _I_ shed a silent tear). + +And JENNY is crying away like mad, +And JIMMY is swearing hard; +And JOHNNY is looking uncommonly glad +(And I am a doggerel bard). + +But JIMMY he ventured on crossing again +The scenes of our Isthmian Games-- +JOHN caught him, and collared him, giving him pain +(I felt very much for JAMES). + +JOHN led him away with a victor's hand, +And JIMMY was shortly seen +In the station-house under the grand Grand Stand +(As many a time I'VE been). + +And JIMMY, bad boy, was imprisoned for life, +Though EMILY pleaded hard; +And JOHNNY had EMILY JANE to wife +(And I am a doggerel bard). + + + +Ballad: The Perils Of Invisibility + + + +OLD PETER led a wretched life-- +Old PETER had a furious wife; +Old PETER too was truly stout, +He measured several yards about. + +The little fairy PICKLEKIN +One summer afternoon looked in, +And said, "Old PETER, how de do? +Can I do anything for you? + +"I have three gifts--the first will give +Unbounded riches while you live; +The second health where'er you be; +The third, invisibility." + +"O little fairy PICKLEKIN," +Old PETER answered with a grin, +"To hesitate would be absurd,-- +Undoubtedly I choose the third." + +"'Tis yours," the fairy said; "be quite +Invisible to mortal sight +Whene'er you please. Remember me +Most kindly, pray, to MRS. P." + +Old MRS. PETER overheard +Wee PICKLEKIN'S concluding word, +And, jealous of her girlhood's choice, +Said, "That was some young woman's voice: + +Old PETER let her scold and swear-- +Old PETER, bless him, didn't care. +"My dear, your rage is wasted quite-- +Observe, I disappear from sight!" + +A well-bred fairy (so I've heard) +Is always faithful to her word: +Old PETER vanished like a shot, +Put then--HIS SUIT OF CLOTHES DID NOT! + +For when conferred the fairy slim +Invisibility on HIM, +She popped away on fairy wings, +Without referring to his "things." + +So there remained a coat of blue, +A vest and double eyeglass too, +His tail, his shoes, his socks as well, +His pair of--no, I must not tell. + +Old MRS. PETER soon began +To see the failure of his plan, +And then resolved (I quote the Bard) +To "hoist him with his own petard." + +Old PETER woke next day and dressed, +Put on his coat, and shoes, and vest, +His shirt and stock; BUT COULD NOT FIND +HIS ONLY PAIR OF--never mind! + +Old PETER was a decent man, +And though he twigged his lady's plan, +Yet, hearing her approaching, he +Resumed invisibility. + +"Dear MRS. P., my only joy," +Exclaimed the horrified old boy, +"Now, give them up, I beg of you-- +You know what I'm referring to!" + +But no; the cross old lady swore +She'd keep his--what I said before-- +To make him publicly absurd; +And MRS. PETER kept her word. + +The poor old fellow had no rest; +His coat, his stick, his shoes, his vest, +Were all that now met mortal eye-- +The rest, invisibility! + +"Now, madam, give them up, I beg-- +I've had rheumatics in my leg; +Besides, until you do, it's plain +I cannot come to sight again! + +"For though some mirth it might afford +To see my clothes without their lord, +Yet there would rise indignant oaths +If he were seen without his clothes!" + +But no; resolved to have her quiz, +The lady held her own--and his-- +And PETER left his humble cot +To find a pair of--you know what. + +But--here's the worst of the affair-- +Whene'er he came across a pair +Already placed for him to don, +He was too stout to get them on! + +So he resolved at once to train, +And walked and walked with all his main; +For years he paced this mortal earth, +To bring himself to decent girth. + +At night, when all around is still, +You'll find him pounding up a hill; +And shrieking peasants whom he meets, +Fall down in terror on the peats! + +Old PETER walks through wind and rain, +Resolved to train, and train, and train, +Until he weighs twelve stone' or so-- +And when he does, I'll let you know. + + + +Ballad: Old Paul And Old Tim + + + +When rival adorers come courting a maid, +There's something or other may often be said, +Why HE should be pitched upon rather than HIM. +This wasn't the case with Old PAUL and Old TIM. + +No soul could discover a reason at all +For marrying TIMOTHY rather than PAUL; +Though all could have offered good reasons, on oath, +Against marrying either--or marrying both. + +They were equally wealthy and equally old, +They were equally timid and equally bold; +They were equally tall as they stood in their shoes-- +Between them, in fact, there was nothing to choose. + +Had I been young EMILY, I should have said, +"You're both much too old for a pretty young maid, +Threescore at the least you are verging upon"; +But I wasn't young EMILY. Let us get on. + +No coward's blood ran in young EMILY'S veins, +Her martial old father loved bloody campaigns; +At the rumours of battles all over the globe +He pricked up his ears like the war-horse in "Job." + +He chuckled to hear of a sudden surprise-- +Of soldiers, compelled, through an enemy's spies, +Without any knapsacks or shakos to flee-- +For an eminent army-contractor was he. + +So when her two lovers, whose patience was tried, +Implored her between them at once to decide, +She told them she'd marry whichever might bring +Good proofs of his doing the pluckiest thing. + +They both went away with a qualified joy: +That coward, Old PAUL, chose a very small boy, +And when no one was looking, in spite of his fears, +He set to work boxing that little boy's ears. + +The little boy struggled and tugged at his hair, +But the lion was roused, and Old PAUL didn't care; +He smacked him, and whacked him, and boxed him, and kicked +Till the poor little beggar was royally licked. + +Old TIM knew a trick worth a dozen of that, +So he called for his stick and he called for his hat. +"I'll cover myself with cheap glory--I'll go +And wallop the Frenchmen who live in Soho! + +"The German invader is ravaging France +With infantry rifle and cavalry lance, +And beautiful Paris is fighting her best +To shake herself free from her terrible guest. + +"The Frenchmen in London, in craven alarms, +Have all run away from the summons to arms; +They haven't the pluck of a pigeon--I'll go +And wallop the Frenchmen who skulk in Soho!" + +Old TIMOTHY tried it and found it succeed: +That day he caused many French noses to bleed; +Through foggy Soho he spread fear and dismay, +And Frenchmen all round him in agony lay. + +He took care to abstain from employing his fist +On the old and the crippled, for they might resist; +A crippled old man may have pluck in his breast, +But the young and the strong ones are cowards confest. + +Old TIM and Old PAUL, with the list of their foes, +Prostrated themselves at their EMILY'S toes: +"Oh, which of us two is the pluckier blade?" +And EMILY answered and EMILY said: + +"Old TIM has thrashed runaway Frenchmen in scores, +Who ought to be guarding their cities and shores; +Old PAUL has made little chaps' noses to bleed-- +Old PAUL has accomplished the pluckier deed!" + + + +Ballad: The Mystic Selvagee + + + +Perhaps already you may know +SIR BLENNERHASSET PORTICO? +A Captain in the Navy, he-- +A Baronet and K.C.B. +You do? I thought so! +It was that Captain's favourite whim +(A notion not confined to him) +That RODNEY was the greatest tar +Who ever wielded capstan-bar. +He had been taught so. + +"BENBOW! CORNWALLIS! HOOD!--Belay! +Compared with RODNEY"--he would say-- +"No other tar is worth a rap! +The great LORD RODNEY was the chap +The French to polish! + "Though, mind you, I respect LORD HOOD; +CORNWALLIS, too, was rather good; +BENBOW could enemies repel, +LORD NELSON, too, was pretty well-- +That is, tol-lol-ish!" + +SIR BLENNERHASSET spent his days +In learning RODNEY'S little ways, +And closely imitated, too, +His mode of talking to his crew-- +His port and paces. +An ancient tar he tried to catch +Who'd served in RODNEY'S famous batch; +But since his time long years have fled, +And RODNEY'S tars are mostly dead: +Eheu fugaces! + +But after searching near and far, +At last he found an ancient tar +Who served with RODNEY and his crew +Against the French in 'Eighty-two, +(That gained the peerage). +He gave him fifty pounds a year, +His rum, his baccy, and his beer; +And had a comfortable den +Rigged up in what, by merchantmen, +Is called the steerage. + +"Now, JASPER"--'t was that sailor's name-- +"Don't fear that you'll incur my blame +By saying, when it seems to you, +That there is anything I do +That RODNEY wouldn't." +The ancient sailor turned his quid, +Prepared to do as he was bid: +"Ay, ay, yer honour; to begin, +You've done away with 'swifting in'-- +Well, sir, you shouldn't! + +"Upon your spars I see you've clapped +Peak halliard blocks, all iron-capped. +I would not christen that a crime, +But 'twas not done in RODNEY'S time. +It looks half-witted! +Upon your maintop-stay, I see, +You always clap a selvagee! +Your stays, I see, are equalized-- +No vessel, such as RODNEY prized, +Would thus be fitted! + +"And RODNEY, honoured sir, would grin +To see you turning deadeyes in, +Not UP, as in the ancient way, +But downwards, like a cutter's stay-- +You didn't oughter; +Besides, in seizing shrouds on board, +Breast backstays you have quite ignored; +Great RODNEY kept unto the last +Breast backstays on topgallant mast-- +They make it tauter." + +SIR BLENNERHASSET "swifted in," +Turned deadeyes up, and lent a fin +To strip (as told by JASPER KNOX) +The iron capping from his blocks, +Where there was any. +SIR BLENNERHASSET does away, +With selvagees from maintop-stay; +And though it makes his sailors stare, +He rigs breast backstays everywhere-- +In fact, too many. + +One morning, when the saucy craft +Lay calmed, old JASPER toddled aft. +"My mind misgives me, sir, that we +Were wrong about that selvagee-- +I should restore it." +"Good," said the Captain, and that day +Restored it to the maintop-stay. +Well-practised sailors often make +A much more serious mistake, +And then ignore it. + +Next day old JASPER came once more: +"I think, sir, I was right before." +Well, up the mast the sailors skipped, +The selvagee was soon unshipped, +And all were merry. +Again a day, and JASPER came: +"I p'r'aps deserve your honour's blame, +I can't make up my mind," said he, +"About that cursed selvagee-- +It's foolish--very. + +"On Monday night I could have sworn +That maintop-stay it should adorn, +On Tuesday morning I could swear +That selvagee should not be there. +The knot's a rasper!" +"Oh, you be hanged," said CAPTAIN P., +"Here, go ashore at Caribbee. +Get out--good bye--shove off--all right!" +Old JASPER soon was out of sight-- +Farewell, old JASPER! + + + +Ballad: The Cunning Woman + + + +On all Arcadia's sunny plain, +On all Arcadia's hill, +None were so blithe as BILL and JANE, +So blithe as JANE and BILL. + +No social earthquake e'er occurred +To rack their common mind: +To them a Panic was a word-- +A Crisis, empty wind. + +No Stock Exchange disturbed the lad +With overwhelming shocks-- +BILL ploughed with all the shares he had, +JANE planted all her stocks. + +And learn in what a simple way +Their pleasures they enhanced-- +JANE danced like any lamb all day, +BILL piped as well as danced. + +Surrounded by a twittling crew, +Of linnet, lark, and thrush, +BILL treated his young lady to +This sentimental gush: + +"Oh, JANE, how true I am to you! +How true you are to me! +And how we woo, and how we coo! +So fond a pair are we! + +"To think, dear JANE, that anyways. +Your chiefest end and aim +Is, one of these fine summer days, +To bear my humble name!" + +Quoth JANE, "Well, as you put the case, +I'm true enough, no doubt, +But then, you see, in this here place +There's none to cut you out. + +"But, oh! if anybody came-- +A Lord or any such-- +I do not think your humble name +Would fascinate me much. + +"For though your mates, you often boast. +You distance out-and-out; +Still, in the abstract, you're a most +Uncompromising lout!" + +Poor BILL, he gave a heavy sigh, +He tried in vain to speak-- +A fat tear started to each eye +And coursed adown each cheek. + +For, oh! right well in truth he knew +That very self-same day, +The LORD DE JACOB PILLALOO +Was coming there to stay! + +The LORD DE JACOB PILLALOO +All proper maidens shun-- +He loves all women, it is true, +But never marries one. + +Now JANE, with all her mad self-will, +Was no coquette--oh no! +She really loved her faithful BILL, +And thus she tuned her woe: + +"Oh, willow, willow, o'er the lea! +And willow once again! +The Peer will fall in love with me! +Why wasn't I made plain?" + +* * * * * + +A cunning woman lived hard by, +A sorceressing dame, +MACCATACOMB DE SALMON-EYE +Was her uncommon name. + +To her good JANE, with kindly yearn +For BILL'S increasing pain, +Repaired in secrecy to learn +How best to make her plain. + +"Oh, JANE," the worthy woman said, +"This mystic phial keep, +And rub its liquor in your head +Before you go to sleep. + +"When you awake next day, I trow, +You'll look in form and hue +To others just as you do now-- +But not to PILLALOO! + +"When you approach him, you will find +He'll think you coarse--unkempt-- +And rudely bid you get behind, +With undisguised contempt." + +The LORD DE PILLALOO arrived +With his expensive train, +And when in state serenely hived, +He sent for BILL and JANE. + +"Oh, spare her, LORD OF PILLALOO! +(Said BILL) if wed you be, +There's anything I'D rather do +Than flirt with LADY P." + +The Lord he gazed in Jenny's eyes, +He looked her through and through: +The cunning woman's prophecies +Were clearly coming true. + +LORD PILLALOO, the Rustic's Bane +(Bad person he, and proud), +HE LAUGHED HA! HA! AT PRETTY JANE, +AND SNEERED AT HER ALOUD! + +He bade her get behind him then, +And seek her mother's stye-- +Yet to her native countrymen +She was as fair as aye! + +MACCATACOMB, continue green! +Grow, SALMON-EYE, in might, +Except for you, there might have been +The deuce's own delight + + + +Ballad: Phrenology + + + +"Come, collar this bad man-- +Around the throat he knotted me +Till I to choke began-- +In point of fact, garotted me!" + +So spake SIR HERBERT WRITE +To JAMES, Policeman Thirty-two-- +All ruffled with his fight +SIR HERBERT was, and dirty too. + +Policeman nothing said +(Though he had much to say on it), +But from the bad man's head +He took the cap that lay on it. + +"No, great SIR HERBERT WHITE-- +Impossible to take him up. +This man is honest quite-- +Wherever did you rake him up? + +"For Burglars, Thieves, and Co., +Indeed, I'm no apologist, +But I, some years ago, +Assisted a Phrenologist. + +"Observe his various bumps, +His head as I uncover it: +His morals lie in lumps +All round about and over it." + +"Now take him," said SIR WHITE, +"Or you will soon be rueing it; +Bless me! I must be right,-- +I caught the fellow doing it!" + +Policeman calmly smiled, +"Indeed you are mistaken, sir, +You're agitated--riled-- +And very badly shaken, sir. + +"Sit down, and I'll explain +My system of Phrenology, +A second, please, remain"-- +(A second is horology). + +Policeman left his beat-- +(The Bart., no longer furious, +Sat down upon a seat, +Observing, "This is curious!") + +"Oh, surely, here are signs +Should soften your rigidity: +This gentleman combines +Politeness with timidity. + +"Of Shyness here's a lump-- +A hole for Animosity-- +And like my fist his bump +Of Impecuniosity. + +"Just here the bump appears +Of Innocent Hilarity, +And just behind his ears +Are Faith, and Hope, and Charity. + +He of true Christian ways +As bright example sent us is-- +This maxim he obeys, +'Sorte tua contentus sis.' + +"There, let him go his ways, +He needs no stern admonishing." +The Bart., in blank amaze, +Exclaimed, "This is astonishing! + +"I MUST have made a mull, +This matter I've been blind in it: +Examine, please, MY skull, +And tell me what you find in it." + +That Crusher looked, and said, +With unimpaired urbanity, +"SIR HERBERT, you've a head +That teems with inhumanity. + +"Here's Murder, Envy, Strife +(Propensity to kill any), +And Lies as large as life, +And heaps of Social Villany. + +"Here's Love of Bran-New Clothes, +Embezzling--Arson--Deism-- +A taste for Slang and Oaths, +And Fraudulent Trusteeism. + +"Here's Love of Groundless Charge-- +Here's Malice, too, and Trickery, +Unusually large +Your bump of Pocket-Pickery--" + +"Stop!" said the Bart., "my cup +Is full--I'm worse than him in all; +Policeman, take me up-- +No doubt I am some criminal!" + +That Pleeceman's scorn grew large +(Phrenology had nettled it), +He took that Bart. in charge-- +I don't know how they settled it. + + + +Ballad: The Fairy Curate + + + +Once a fairy +Light and airy +Married with a mortal; +Men, however, +Never, never +Pass the fairy portal. +Slyly stealing, +She to Ealing +Made a daily journey; +There she found him, +Clients round him +(He was an attorney). + +Long they tarried, +Then they married. +When the ceremony +Once was ended, +Off they wended +On their moon of honey. +Twelvemonth, maybe, +Saw a baby +(Friends performed an orgie). +Much they prized him, +And baptized him +By the name of GEORGIE, + +GEORGIE grew up; +Then he flew up +To his fairy mother. +Happy meeting-- +Pleasant greeting-- +Kissing one another. +"Choose a calling +Most enthralling, +I sincerely urge ye." +"Mother," said he +(Rev'rence made he), +"I would join the clergy. + +"Give permission +In addition-- +Pa will let me do it: +There's a living +In his giving-- +He'll appoint me to it. +Dreams of coff'ring, +Easter off'ring, +Tithe and rent and pew-rate, +So inflame me +(Do not blame me), +That I'll be a curate." + +She, with pleasure, +Said, "My treasure, +'T is my wish precisely. +Do your duty, +There's a beauty; +You have chosen wisely. +Tell your father +I would rather +As a churchman rank you. +You, in clover, +I'll watch over." +GEORGIE said, "Oh, thank you!" + +GEORGIE scudded, +Went and studied, +Made all preparations, +And with credit +(Though he said it) +Passed examinations. +(Do not quarrel +With him, moral, +Scrupulous digestions-- +'Twas his mother, +And no other, +Answered all the questions.) + +Time proceeded; +Little needed +GEORGIE admonition: +He, elated, +Vindicated +Clergyman's position. +People round him +Always found him +Plain and unpretending; +Kindly teaching, +Plainly preaching, +All his money lending. + +So the fairy, +Wise and wary, +Felt no sorrow rising-- +No occasion +For persuasion, +Warning, or advising. +He, resuming +Fairy pluming +(That's not English, is it?) +Oft would fly up, +To the sky up, +Pay mamma a visit. + +* * * * * * * * + +Time progressing, +GEORGIE'S blessing +Grew more Ritualistic-- +Popish scandals, +Tonsures--sandals-- +Genuflections mystic; +Gushing meetings-- +Bosom-beatings-- +Heavenly ecstatics-- +Broidered spencers-- +Copes and censers-- +Rochets and dalmatics. + +This quandary +Vexed the fairy-- +Flew she down to Ealing. +"GEORGIE, stop it! +Pray you, drop it; +Hark to my appealing: +To this foolish +Papal rule-ish +Twaddle put an ending; +This a swerve is +From our Service +Plain and unpretending." + +He, replying, +Answered, sighing, +Hawing, hemming, humming, +"It's a pity-- +They're so pritty; +Yet in mode becoming, +Mother tender, +I'll surrender-- +I'll be unaffected--" +But his Bishop +Into HIS shop +Entered unexpected! + +"Who is this, sir,-- +Ballet miss, sir?" +Said the Bishop coldly. +"'T is my mother, +And no other," +GEORGIE answered boldly. +"Go along, sir! +You are wrong, sir; +You have years in plenty, +While this hussy +(Gracious mussy!) +Isn't two and twenty!" + +(Fairies clever +Never, never +Grow in visage older; +And the fairy, +All unwary, +Leant upon his shoulder!) +Bishop grieved him, +Disbelieved him; +GEORGE the point grew warm on; +Changed religion, +Like a pigeon, {12} +And became a Mormon! + + + +Ballad: The Way Of Wooing + + + +A maiden sat at her window wide, +Pretty enough for a Prince's bride, +Yet nobody came to claim her. +She sat like a beautiful picture there, +With pretty bluebells and roses fair, +And jasmine-leaves to frame her. +And why she sat there nobody knows; +But this she sang as she plucked a rose, +The leaves around her strewing: +"I've time to lose and power to choose; +'T is not so much the gallant who woos, +But the gallant's WAY of wooing!" + +A lover came riding by awhile, +A wealthy lover was he, whose smile +Some maids would value greatly-- +A formal lover, who bowed and bent, +With many a high-flown compliment, +And cold demeanour stately, +"You've still," said she to her suitor stern, +"The 'prentice-work of your craft to learn, +If thus you come a-cooing. +I've time to lose and power to choose; +'T is not so much the gallant who woos, +As the gallant's WAY of wooing!" + +A second lover came ambling by-- +A timid lad with a frightened eye +And a colour mantling highly. +He muttered the errand on which he'd come, +Then only chuckled and bit his thumb, +And simpered, simpered shyly. +"No," said the maiden, "go your way; +You dare but think what a man would say, +Yet dare to come a-suing! +I've time to lose and power to choose; +'T is not so much the gallant who woos, +As the gallant's WAY of wooing!" + +A third rode up at a startling pace-- +A suitor poor, with a homely face-- +No doubts appeared to bind him. +He kissed her lips and he pressed her waist, +And off he rode with the maiden, placed +On a pillion safe behind him. +And she heard the suitor bold confide +This golden hint to the priest who tied +The knot there's no undoing; +With pretty young maidens who can choose, +'Tis not so much the gallant who woos, +As the gallant's WAY of wooing!" + + + +Ballad: Hongree And Mahry. A Recollection Of A Surrey Melodrama + + + +The sun was setting in its wonted west, +When HONGREE, Sub-Lieutenant of Chassoores, +Met MAHRY DAUBIGNY, the Village Rose, +Under the Wizard's Oak--old trysting-place +Of those who loved in rosy Aquitaine. + +They thought themselves unwatched, but they were not; +For HONGREE, Sub-Lieutenant of Chassoores, +Found in LIEUTENANT-COLONEL JOOLES DUBOSC +A rival, envious and unscrupulous, +Who thought it not foul scorn to dodge his steps, +And listen, unperceived, to all that passed +Between the simple little Village Rose +And HONGREE, Sub-Lieutenant of Chassoores. + +A clumsy barrack-bully was DUBOSC, +Quite unfamiliar with the well-bred tact +That animates a proper gentleman +In dealing with a girl of humble rank. +You'll understand his coarseness when I say +He would have married MAHRY DAUBIGNY, +And dragged the unsophisticated girl +Into the whirl of fashionable life, +For which her singularly rustic ways, +Her breeding (moral, but extremely rude), +Her language (chaste, but ungrammatical), +Would absolutely have unfitted her. +How different to this unreflecting boor +Was HONGREE, Sub-Lieutenant of Chassoores. + +Contemporary with the incident +Related in our opening paragraph, +Was that sad war 'twixt Gallia and ourselves +That followed on the treaty signed at Troyes; +And so LIEUTENANT-COLONEL JOOLES DUBOSC +(Brave soldier, he, with all his faults of style) +And HONGREE, Sub-Lieutenant of Chassoores, +Were sent by CHARLES of France against the lines +Of our Sixth HENRY (Fourteen twenty-nine), +To drive his legions out of Aquitaine. + +When HONGREE, Sub-Lieutenant of Chassoores, +Returned, suspecting nothing, to his camp, +After his meeting with the Village Rose, +He found inside his barrack letter-box +A note from the commanding officer, +Requiring his attendance at head-quarters. +He went, and found LIEUTENANT-COLONEL JOOLES. + +"Young HONGREE, Sub-Lieutenant of Chassoores, +This night we shall attack the English camp: +Be the 'forlorn hope' yours--you'll lead it, sir, +And lead it too with credit, I've no doubt. +As every man must certainly be killed +(For you are twenty 'gainst two thousand men), +It is not likely that you will return. +But what of that? you'll have the benefit +Of knowing that you die a soldier's death." + +Obedience was young HONGREE'S strongest point, +But he imagined that he only owed +Allegiance to his MAHRY and his King. +"If MAHRY bade me lead these fated men, +I'd lead them--but I do not think she would. +If CHARLES, my King, said, 'Go, my son, and die,' +I'd go, of course--my duty would be clear. +But MAHRY is in bed asleep, I hope, +And CHARLES, my King, a hundred leagues from this. +As for LIEUTENANT-COLONEL JOOLES DUBOSC, +How know I that our monarch would approve +The order he has given me to-night? +My King I've sworn in all things to obey-- +I'll only take my orders from my King!" +Thus HONGREE, Sub-Lieutenant of Chassoores, +Interpreted the terms of his commission. + +And HONGREE, who was wise as he was good, +Disguised himself that night in ample cloak, +Round flapping hat, and vizor mask of black, +And made, unnoticed, for the English camp. +He passed the unsuspecting sentinels +(Who little thought a man in this disguise +Could be a proper object of suspicion), +And ere the curfew bell had boomed "lights out," +He found in audience Bedford's haughty Duke. + +"Your Grace," he said, "start not--be not alarmed, +Although a Frenchman stands before your eyes. +I'm HONGREE, Sub-Lieutenant of Chassoores. +My Colonel will attack your camp to-night, +And orders me to lead the hope forlorn. +Now I am sure our excellent KING CHARLES +Would not approve of this; but he's away +A hundred leagues, and rather more than that. +So, utterly devoted to my King, +Blinded by my attachment to the throne, +And having but its interest at heart, +I feel it is my duty to disclose +All schemes that emanate from COLONEL JOOLES, +If I believe that they are not the kind +Of schemes that our good monarch would approve." + +"But how," said Bedford's Duke, "do you propose +That we should overthrow your Colonel's scheme?" +And HONGREE, Sub-Lieutenant of Chassoores, +Replied at once with never-failing tact: +"Oh, sir, I know this cursed country well. +Entrust yourself and all your host to me; +I'll lead you safely by a secret path +Into the heart of COLONEL JOOLES' array, +And you can then attack them unprepared, +And slay my fellow-countrymen unarmed." + +The thing was done. The DUKE of BEDFORD gave +The order, and two thousand fighting men +Crept silently into the Gallic camp, +And slew the Frenchmen as they lay asleep; +And Bedford's haughty Duke slew COLONEL JOOLES, +And gave fair MAHRY, pride of Aquitaine, +To HONGREE, Sub-Lieutenant of Chassoores. + + + +Ballad: Etiquette + + + +The Ballyshannon foundered off the coast of Cariboo, +And down in fathoms many went the captain and the crew; +Down went the owners--greedy men whom hope of gain allured: +Oh, dry the starting tear, for they were heavily insured. + +Besides the captain and the mate, the owners and the crew, +The passengers were also drowned excepting only two: +Young PETER GRAY, who tasted teas for BAKER, CROOP, AND CO., +And SOMERS, who from Eastern shores imported indigo. + +These passengers, by reason of their clinging to a mast, +Upon a desert island were eventually cast. +They hunted for their meals, as ALEXANDER SELKIRK used, +But they couldn't chat together--they had not been introduced. + +For PETER GRAY, and SOMERS too, though certainly in trade, +Were properly particular about the friends they made; +And somehow thus they settled it without a word of mouth-- +That GRAY should take the northern half, while SOMERS took the south. + +On PETER'S portion oysters grew--a delicacy rare, +But oysters were a delicacy PETER couldn't bear. +On SOMERS' side was turtle, on the shingle lying thick, +Which SOMERS couldn't eat, because it always made him sick. + +GRAY gnashed his teeth with envy as he saw a mighty store +Of turtle unmolested on his fellow-creature's shore. +The oysters at his feet aside impatiently he shoved, +For turtle and his mother were the only things he loved. + +And SOMERS sighed in sorrow as he settled in the south, +For the thought of PETER'S oysters brought the water to his mouth. +He longed to lay him down upon the shelly bed, and stuff: +He had often eaten oysters, but had never had enough. + +How they wished an introduction to each other they had had +When on board the Ballyshannon! And it drove them nearly mad +To think how very friendly with each other they might get, +If it wasn't for the arbitrary rule of etiquette! + +One day, when out a-hunting for the mus ridiculus, +GRAY overheard his fellow-man soliloquizing thus: +"I wonder how the playmates of my youth are getting on, +M'CONNELL, S. B. WALTERS, PADDY BYLES, and ROBINSON?" + +These simple words made PETER as delighted as could be, +Old chummies at the Charterhouse were ROBINSON and he! +He walked straight up to SOMERS, then he turned extremely red, +Hesitated, hummed and hawed a bit, then cleared his throat, and said: + +I beg your pardon--pray forgive me if I seem too bold, +But you have breathed a name I knew familiarly of old. +You spoke aloud of ROBINSON--I happened to be by. +You know him?" "Yes, extremely well." "Allow me, so do I." + +It was enough: they felt they could more pleasantly get on, +For (ah, the magic of the fact!) they each knew ROBINSON! +And Mr. SOMERS' turtle was at PETER'S service quite, +And Mr. SOMERS punished PETER'S oyster-beds all night. + +They soon became like brothers from community of wrongs: +They wrote each other little odes and sang each other songs; +They told each other anecdotes disparaging their wives; +On several occasions, too, they saved each other's lives. + +They felt quite melancholy when they parted for the night, +And got up in the morning soon as ever it was light; +Each other's pleasant company they reckoned so upon, +And all because it happened that they both knew ROBINSON! + +They lived for many years on that inhospitable shore, +And day by day they learned to love each other more and more. +At last, to their astonishment, on getting up one day, +They saw a frigate anchored in the offing of the bay. + +To PETER an idea occurred. "Suppose we cross the main? +So good an opportunity may not be found again." +And SOMERS thought a minute, then ejaculated, "Done! +I wonder how my business in the City's getting on?" + +"But stay," said Mr. PETER: "when in England, as you know, +I earned a living tasting teas for BAKER, CROOP, AND CO., +I may be superseded--my employers think me dead!" +"Then come with me," said SOMERS, "and taste indigo instead." + +But all their plans were scattered in a moment when they found +The vessel was a convict ship from Portland, outward bound; +When a boat came off to fetch them, though they felt it very kind, +To go on board they firmly but respectfully declined. + +As both the happy settlers roared with laughter at the joke, +They recognized a gentlemanly fellow pulling stroke: +'Twas ROBINSON--a convict, in an unbecoming frock! +Condemned to seven years for misappropriating stock!!! + +They laughed no more, for SOMERS thought he had been rather rash +In knowing one whose friend had misappropriated cash; +And PETER thought a foolish tack he must have gone upon +In making the acquaintance of a friend of ROBINSON. + +At first they didn't quarrel very openly, I've heard; +They nodded when they met, and now and then exchanged a word: +The word grew rare, and rarer still the nodding of the head, +And when they meet each other now, they cut each other dead. + +To allocate the island they agreed by word of mouth, +And PETER takes the north again, and SOMERS takes the south; +And PETER has the oysters, which he hates, in layers thick, +And SOMERS has the turtle--turtle always makes him sick. + + + +Foonotes: + +{1} "Go with me to a Notary--seal me there +Your single bond."--Merchant of Venice, Act I., sc. 3. + +{2} "And there shall she, at Friar Lawrence' cell, +Be shrived and married."--Romeo and Juliet, Act II., sc. 4. + +{3} "And give the fasting horses provender."--Henry the Fifth, Act +IV., sc. 2. + +{4} "Let us, like merchants, show our foulest wares."--Troilus and +Cressida, Act I., sc. 3. + +{5} "Then must the Jew be merciful."--Merchant of Venice, Act IV., sc. +1. + +{6} "The spring, the summer, +The chilling autumn, angry winter, change +Their wonted liveries."--Midsummer Night Dream, Act IV., sc. 1. + +{7} "In the county of Glo'ster, justice of the peace and coram." +Merry Wives of Windsor, Act I., sc. 1. + +{8} "What lusty trumpet thus doth summon us?"--King John, Act V., sc. +2. + +{9} "And I'll provide his executioner."--Henry the Sixth (Second +Part), Act III., sc. 1. + +{10} "The lioness had torn some flesh away, +Which all this while had bled."--As You Like It, Act IV., sc. 3. + +{11} Described by MUNGO PARK. + +{12} "Like a bird."--Slang expression. + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, MORE BAB BALLADS *** + +This file should be named 3babb10.txt or 3babb10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, 3babb11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, 3babb10a.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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S. Gilbert) + +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: More Bab Ballads + +Author: W. S. Gilbert + +Release Date: June, 1997 [EBook #933] +[This file was first posted on June 3, 1997] +[Most recently updated: May 21, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: US-ASCII +</pre> +<p><a name="startoftext"></a></p> +<p>Transcribed by David Price, email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div> +<h1>MORE BAB BALLADS</h1> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div> +<p>Contents:</p> +<p>Mister William<br />The Bumboat Woman’s Story<br />The Two +Ogres<br />Little Oliver<br />Pasha Bailey Ben<br />Lieutenant-Colonel +Flare<br />Lost Mr. Blake<br />The Baby’s Vengeance<br />The Captain +And The Mermaids<br />Annie Protheroe. A Legend of Stratford-Le-Bow<br />An +Unfortunate Likeness<br />Gregory Parable, LL.D.<br />The King Of Canoodle-Dum<br />First +Love<br />Brave Alum Bey<br />Sir Barnaby Bampton Boo<br />The Modest +Couple<br />The Martinet<br />The Sailor Boy To His Lass<br />The Reverend +Simon Magus<br />Damon v. Pythias<br />My Dream<br />The Bishop Of Rum-Ti-Foo +Again<br />A Worm Will Turn<br />The Haughty Actor<br />The Two Majors<br />Emily, +John, James, And I. A Derby Legend<br />The Perils Of Invisibility<br />Old +Paul And Old Tim<br />The Mystic Selvagee<br />The Cunning Woman<br />Phrenology<br />The +Fairy Curate<br />The Way Of Wooing<br />Hongree And Mahry. A +Recollection Of A Surrey Melodrama<br />Etiquette</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>Ballad: Mister William</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Oh, listen to the tale of MISTER WILLIAM, if you please,<br />Whom +naughty, naughty judges sent away beyond the seas.<br />He forged a +party’s will, which caused anxiety and strife,<br />Resulting +in his getting penal servitude for life.</p> +<p>He was a kindly goodly man, and naturally prone,<br />Instead of +taking others’ gold, to give away his own.<br />But he had heard +of Vice, and longed for only once to strike—<br />To plan <i>one</i> +little wickedness—to see what it was like.</p> +<p>He argued with himself, and said, “A spotless man am I;<br />I +can’t be more respectable, however hard I try!<br />For six and +thirty years I’ve always been as good as gold,<br />And now for +half an hour I’ll plan infamy untold!</p> +<p>“A baby who is wicked at the early age of one,<br />And then +reforms—and dies at thirty-six a spotless son,<br />Is never, +never saddled with his babyhood’s defect,<br />But earns from +worthy men consideration and respect.</p> +<p>“So one who never revelled in discreditable tricks<br />Until +he reached the comfortable age of thirty-six,<br />May then for half +an hour perpetrate a deed of shame,<br />Without incurring permanent +disgrace, or even blame.</p> +<p>“That babies don’t commit such crimes as forgery is true,<br />But +little sins develop, if you leave ’em to accrue;<br />And he who +shuns all vices as successive seasons roll,<br />Should reap at length +the benefit of so much self-control.</p> +<p>“The common sin of babyhood—objecting to be drest—<br />If +you leave it to accumulate at compound interest,<br />For anything you +know, may represent, if you’re alive,<br />A burglary or murder +at the age of thirty-five.</p> +<p>“Still, I wouldn’t take advantage of this fact, but be +content<br />With some pardonable folly—it’s a mere experiment.<br />The +greater the temptation to go wrong, the less the sin;<br />So with something +that’s particularly tempting I’ll begin.</p> +<p>“I would not steal a penny, for my income’s very fair—<br />I +do not want a penny—I have pennies and to spare—<br />And +if I stole a penny from a money-bag or till,<br />The sin would be enormous—the +temptation being <i>nil</i>.</p> +<p>“But if I broke asunder all such pettifogging bounds,<br />And +forged a party’s Will for (say) Five Hundred Thousand Pounds,<br />With +such an irresistible temptation to a haul,<br />Of course the sin must +be infinitesimally small.</p> +<p>“There’s WILSON who is dying—he has wealth from +Stock and rent—<br />If I divert his riches from their natural +descent,<br />I’m placed in a position to indulge each little +whim.”<br />So he diverted them—and they, in turn, diverted +him.</p> +<p>Unfortunately, though, by some unpardonable flaw,<br />Temptation +isn’t recognized by Britain’s Common Law;<br />Men found +him out by some peculiarity of touch,<br />And WILLIAM got a “lifer,” +which annoyed him very much.</p> +<p>For, ah! he never reconciled himself to life in gaol,<br />He fretted +and he pined, and grew dispirited and pale;<br />He was numbered like +a cabman, too, which told upon him so<br />That his spirits, once so +buoyant, grew uncomfortably low.</p> +<p>And sympathetic gaolers would remark, “It’s very true,<br />He +ain’t been brought up common, like the likes of me and you.”<br />So +they took him into hospital, and gave him mutton chops,<br />And chocolate, +and arrowroot, and buns, and malt and hops.</p> +<p>Kind Clergymen, besides, grew interested in his fate,<br />Affected +by the details of his pitiable state.<br />They waited on the Secretary, +somewhere in Whitehall,<br />Who said he would receive them any day +they liked to call.</p> +<p>“Consider, sir, the hardship of this interesting case:<br />A +prison life brings with it something very like disgrace;<br />It’s +telling on young WILLIAM, who’s reduced to skin and bone—<br />Remember +he’s a gentleman, with money of his own.</p> +<p>“He had an ample income, and of course he stands in need<br />Of +sherry with his dinner, and his customary weed;<br />No delicacies now +can pass his gentlemanly lips—<br />He misses his sea-bathing +and his continental trips.</p> +<p>“He says the other prisoners are commonplace and rude;<br />He +says he cannot relish uncongenial prison food.<br />When quite a boy +they taught him to distinguish Good from Bad,<br />And other educational +advantages he’s had.</p> +<p>“A burglar or garotter, or, indeed, a common thief<br />Is +very glad to batten on potatoes and on beef,<br />Or anything, in short, +that prison kitchens can afford,—<br />A cut above the diet in +a common workhouse ward.</p> +<p>“But beef and mutton-broth don’t seem to suit our WILLIAM’S +whim,<br />A boon to other prisoners—a punishment to him.<br />It +never was intended that the discipline of gaol<br />Should dash a convict’s +spirits, sir, or make him thin or pale.”</p> +<p>“Good Gracious Me!” that sympathetic Secretary cried,<br />“Suppose +in prison fetters MISTER WILLIAM should have died!<br />Dear me, of +course! Imprisonment for <i>Life</i> his sentence saith:<br />I’m +very glad you mentioned it—it might have been For Death!</p> +<p>“Release him with a ticket—he’ll be better then, +no doubt,<br />And tell him I apologize.” So MISTER WILLIAM’S +out.<br />I hope he will be careful in his manuscripts, I’m sure,<br />And +not begin experimentalizing any more.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>Ballad: The Bumboat Woman’s Story</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>I’m old, my dears, and shrivelled with age, and work, and grief,<br />My +eyes are gone, and my teeth have been drawn by Time, the Thief!<br />For +terrible sights I’ve seen, and dangers great I’ve run—<br />I’m +nearly seventy now, and my work is almost done!</p> +<p>Ah! I’ve been young in my time, and I’ve played +the deuce with men!<br />I’m speaking of ten years past—I +was barely sixty then:<br />My cheeks were mellow and soft, and my eyes +were large and sweet,<br />POLL PINEAPPLE’S eyes were the standing +toast of the Royal Fleet!</p> +<p>A bumboat woman was I, and I faithfully served the ships<br />With +apples and cakes, and fowls, and beer, and halfpenny dips,<br />And +beef for the generous mess, where the officers dine at nights,<br />And +fine fresh peppermint drops for the rollicking midshipmites.</p> +<p>Of all the kind commanders who anchored in Portsmouth Bay,<br />By +far the sweetest of all was kind LIEUTENANT BELAYE.’<br />LIEUTENANT +BELAYE commanded the gunboat <i>Hot Cross Bun,<br /></i>She was seven +and thirty feet in length, and she carried a gun.</p> +<p>With a laudable view of enhancing his country’s naval pride,<br />When +people inquired her size, LIEUTENANT BELAYE replied,<br />“Oh, +my ship, my ship is the first of the Hundred and Seventy-ones!”<br />Which +meant her tonnage, but people imagined it meant her guns.</p> +<p>Whenever I went on board he would beckon me down below,<br />“Come +down, Little Buttercup, come” (for he loved to call me so),<br />And +he’d tell of the fights at sea in which he’d taken a part,<br />And +so LIEUTENANT BELAYE won poor POLL PINEAPPLE’S heart!</p> +<p>But at length his orders came, and he said one day, said he,<br />“I’m +ordered to sail with the <i>Hot Cross Bun</i> to the German Sea.”<br />And +the Portsmouth maidens wept when they learnt the evil day,<br />For +every Portsmouth maid loved good LIEUTENANT BELAYE.</p> +<p>And I went to a back back street, with plenty of cheap cheap shops,<br />And +I bought an oilskin hat and a second-hand suit of slops,<br />And I +went to LIEUTENANT BELAYE (and he never suspected <i>me</i>!)<br />And +I entered myself as a chap as wanted to go to sea.</p> +<p>We sailed that afternoon at the mystic hour of one,—<br />Remarkably +nice young men were the crew of the <i>Hot Cross Bun,<br /></i>I’m +sorry to say that I’ve heard that sailors sometimes swear,<br />But +I never yet heard a <i>Bun</i> say anything wrong, I declare.</p> +<p>When Jack Tars meet, they meet with a “Messmate, ho! +What cheer?”<br />But here, on the <i>Hot Cross Bun</i>, it was +“How do you do, my dear?”<br />When Jack Tars growl, I believe +they growl with a big big D-<br />But the strongest oath of the <i>Hot +Cross Buns</i> was a mild “Dear me!”</p> +<p>Yet, though they were all well-bred, you could scarcely call them +slick:<br />Whenever a sea was on, they were all extremely sick;<br />And +whenever the weather was calm, and the wind was light and fair,<br />They +spent more time than a sailor should on his back back hair.</p> +<p>They certainly shivered and shook when ordered aloft to run,<br />And +they screamed when LIEUTENANT BELAYE discharged his only gun.<br />And +as he was proud of his gun—such pride is hardly wrong—<br />The +Lieutenant was blazing away at intervals all day long.</p> +<p>They all agreed very well, though at times you heard it said<br />That +BILL had a way of his own of making his lips look red—<br />That +JOE looked quite his age—or somebody might declare<br />That BARNACLE’S +long pig-tail was never his own own hair.</p> +<p>BELAYE would admit that his men were of no great use to him,<br />“But, +then,” he would say, “there is little to do on a gunboat +trim<br />I can hand, and reef, and steer, and fire my big gun too—<br />And +it <i>is</i> such a treat to sail with a gentle well-bred crew.”</p> +<p>I saw him every day. How the happy moments sped!<br />Reef +topsails! Make all taut! There’s dirty weather ahead!<br />(I +do not mean that tempests threatened the <i>Hot Cross Bun:<br /></i>In +<i>that</i> case, I don’t know whatever we <i>should</i> have +done!)</p> +<p>After a fortnight’s cruise, we put into port one day,<br />And +off on leave for a week went kind LIEUTENANT BELAYE,<br />And after +a long long week had passed (and it seemed like a life),<br />LIEUTENANT +BELAYE returned to his ship with a fair young wife!</p> +<p>He up, and he says, says he, “O crew of the <i>Hot Cross Bun</i>,<br />Here +is the wife of my heart, for the Church has made us one!”<br />And +as he uttered the word, the crew went out of their wits,<br />And all +fell down in so many separate fainting-fits.</p> +<p>And then their hair came down, or off, as the case might be,<br />And +lo! the rest of the crew were simple girls, like me,<br />Who all had +fled from their homes in a sailor’s blue array,<br />To follow +the shifting fate of kind LIEUTENANT BELAYE.</p> +<p>* * * * * * * *</p> +<p>It’s strange to think that <i>I</i> should ever have loved +young men,<br />But I’m speaking of ten years past—I was +barely sixty then,<br />And now my cheeks are furrowed with grief and +age, I trow!<br />And poor POLL PINEAPPLE’S eyes have lost their +lustre now!</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>Ballad: The Two Ogres</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Good children, list, if you’re inclined,<br />And wicked children +too—<br />This pretty ballad is designed<br />Especially for you.</p> +<p>Two ogres dwelt in Wickham Wold—<br />Each <i>traits</i> distinctive +had:<br />The younger was as good as gold,<br />The elder was as bad.</p> +<p>A wicked, disobedient son<br />Was JAMES M’ALPINE, and<br />A +contrast to the elder one,<br />Good APPLEBODY BLAND.</p> +<p>M’ALPINE—brutes like him are few—<br />In greediness +delights,<br />A melancholy victim to<br />Unchastened appetites.</p> +<p>Good, well-bred children every day<br />He ravenously ate,—<br />All +boys were fish who found their way<br />Into M’ALPINE’S +net:</p> +<p>Boys whose good breeding is innate,<br />Whose sums are always right;<br />And +boys who don’t expostulate<br />When sent to bed at night;</p> +<p>And kindly boys who never search<br />The nests of birds of song;<br />And +serious boys for whom, in church,<br />No sermon is too long.</p> +<p>Contrast with JAMES’S greedy haste<br />And comprehensive hand,<br />The +nice discriminating taste<br />Of APPLEBODY BLAND.</p> +<p>BLAND only eats bad boys, who swear—<br />Who <i>can</i> behave, +but <i>don’t—<br /></i>Disgraceful lads who say “don’t +care,”<br />And “shan’t,” and “can’t,” +and “won’t.”</p> +<p>Who wet their shoes and learn to box,<br />And say what isn’t +true,<br />Who bite their nails and jam their frocks,<br />And make +long noses too;</p> +<p>Who kick a nurse’s aged shin,<br />And sit in sulky mopes;<br />And +boys who twirl poor kittens in<br />Distracting zoëtropes.</p> +<p>But JAMES, when he was quite a youth,<br />Had often been to school,<br />And +though so bad, to tell the truth,<br />He wasn’t quite a fool.</p> +<p>At logic few with him could vie;<br />To his peculiar sect<br />He +could propose a fallacy<br />With singular effect.</p> +<p>So, when his Mentors said, “Expound—<br />Why eat good +children—why?”<br />Upon his Mentors he would round<br />With +this absurd reply:</p> +<p>“I have been taught to love the good—<br />The pure—the +unalloyed—<br />And wicked boys, I’ve understood,<br />I +always should avoid.</p> +<p>“Why do I eat good children—why?<br />Because I love +them so!”<br />(But this was empty sophistry,<br />As your Papa +can show.)</p> +<p>Now, though the learning of his friends<br />Was truly not immense,<br />They +had a way of fitting ends<br />By rule of common sense.</p> +<p>“Away, away!” his Mentors cried,<br />“Thou uncongenial +pest!<br />A quirk’s a thing we can’t abide,<br />A quibble +we detest!</p> +<p>“A fallacy in your reply<br />Our intellect descries,<br />Although +we don’t pretend to spy<br />Exactly where it lies.</p> +<p>“In misery and penal woes<br />Must end a glutton’s joys;<br />And +learn how ogres punish those<br />Who dare to eat good boys.</p> +<p>“Secured by fetter, cramp, and chain,<br />And gagged securely—so—<br />You +shall be placed in Drury Lane,<br />Where only good lads go.</p> +<p>“Surrounded there by virtuous boys,<br />You’ll suffer +torture wus<br />Than that which constantly annoys<br />Disgraceful +TANTALUS.</p> +<p>(“If you would learn the woes that vex<br />Poor TANTALUS, +down there,<br />Pray borrow of Papa an ex-<br />Purgated LEMPRIERE.)</p> +<p>“But as for BLAND who, as it seems,<br />Eats only naughty +boys,<br />We’ve planned a recompense that teems<br />With gastronomic +joys.</p> +<p>“Where wicked youths in crowds are stowed<br />He shall unquestioned +rule,<br />And have the run of Hackney Road<br />Reformatory School!”</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>Ballad: Little Oliver</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>EARL JOYCE he was a kind old party<br />Whom nothing ever could put +out,<br />Though eighty-two, he still was hearty,<br />Excepting as +regarded gout.</p> +<p>He had one unexampled daughter,<br />The LADY MINNIE-HAHA JOYCE,<br />Fair +MINNIE-HAHA, “Laughing Water,”<br />So called from her melodious +voice.</p> +<p>By Nature planned for lover-capture,<br />Her beauty every heart +assailed;<br />The good old nobleman with rapture<br />Observed how +widely she prevailed</p> +<p>Aloof from all the lordly flockings<br />Of titled swells who worshipped +her,<br />There stood, in pumps and cotton stockings,<br />One humble +lover—OLIVER.</p> +<p>He was no peer by Fortune petted,<br />His name recalled no bygone +age;<br />He was no lordling coronetted—<br />Alas! he was a simple +page!</p> +<p>With vain appeals he never bored her,<br />But stood in silent sorrow +by—<br />He knew how fondly he adored her,<br />And knew, alas! +how hopelessly!</p> +<p>Well grounded by a village tutor<br />In languages alive and past,<br />He’d +say unto himself, “Knee-suitor,<br />Oh, do not go beyond your +last!”</p> +<p>But though his name could boast no handle,<br />He could not every +hope resign;<br />As moths will hover round a candle,<br />So hovered +he about her shrine.</p> +<p>The brilliant candle dazed the moth well:<br />One day she sang to +her Papa<br />The air that MARIE sings with BOTHWELL<br />In NEIDERMEYER’S +opera.</p> +<p>(Therein a stable boy, it’s stated,<br />Devoutly loved a noble +dame,<br />Who ardently reciprocated<br />His rather injudicious flame.)</p> +<p>And then, before the piano closing<br />(He listened coyly at the +door),<br />She sang a song of her composing—<br />I give one +verse from half a score:</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>BALLAD</p> +<p>Why, pretty page, art ever sighing?<br />Is sorrow in thy heartlet +lying?<br />Come, set a-ringing<br />Thy laugh entrancing,<br />And +ever singing<br />And ever dancing.<br />Ever singing, Tra! la! la!<br />Ever +dancing, Tra! la! la!<br />Ever singing, ever dancing,<br />Ever singing, +Tra! la! la!</p> +<p>He skipped for joy like little muttons,<br />He danced like Esmeralda’s +kid.<br />(She did not mean a boy in buttons,<br />Although he fancied +that she did.)</p> +<p>Poor lad! convinced he thus would win her,<br />He wore out many +pairs of soles;<br />He danced when taking down the dinner—<br />He +danced when bringing up the coals.</p> +<p>He danced and sang (however laden)<br />With his incessant “Tra! +la! la!”<br />Which much surprised the noble maiden,<br />And +puzzled even her Papa.</p> +<p>He nourished now his flame and fanned it,<br />He even danced at +work below.<br />The upper servants wouldn’t stand it,<br />And +BOWLES the butler told him so.</p> +<p>At length on impulse acting blindly,<br />His love he laid completely +bare;<br />The gentle Earl received him kindly<br />And told the lad +to take a chair.</p> +<p>“Oh, sir,” the suitor uttered sadly,<br />“Don’t +give your indignation vent;<br />I fear you think I’m acting madly,<br />Perhaps +you think me insolent?”</p> +<p>The kindly Earl repelled the notion;<br />His noble bosom heaved +a sigh,<br />His fingers trembled with emotion,<br />A tear stood in +his mild blue eye:</p> +<p>For, oh! the scene recalled too plainly<br />The half-forgotten time +when he,<br />A boy of nine, had worshipped vainly<br />A governess +of forty-three!</p> +<p>“My boy,” he said, in tone consoling,<br />“Give +up this idle fancy—do—<br />The song you heard my daughter +trolling<br />Did not, indeed, refer to you.</p> +<p>“I feel for you, poor boy, acutely;<br />I would not wish to +give you pain;<br />Your pangs I estimate minutely,—<br />I, too, +have loved, and loved in vain.</p> +<p>“But still your humble rank and station<br />For MINNIE surely +are not meet”—<br />He said much more in conversation<br />Which +it were needless to repeat.</p> +<p>Now I’m prepared to bet a guinea,<br />Were this a mere dramatic +case,<br />The page would have eloped with MINNIE,<br />But, no—he +only left his place.</p> +<p>The simple Truth is my detective,<br />With me Sensation can’t +abide;<br />The Likely beats the mere Effective,<br />And Nature is +my only guide.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>Ballad: Pasha Bailey Ben</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>A proud Pasha was BAILEY BEN,<br />His wives were three, his tails +were ten;<br />His form was dignified, but stout,<br />Men called him +“Little Roundabout.”</p> +<p><i>His Importance</i></p> +<p>Pale Pilgrims came from o’er the sea<br />To wait on PASHA +BAILEY B.,<br />All bearing presents in a crowd,<br />For B. was poor +as well as proud.</p> +<p><i>His Presents</i></p> +<p>They brought him onions strung on ropes,<br />And cold boiled beef, +and telescopes,<br />And balls of string, and shrimps, and guns,<br />And +chops, and tacks, and hats, and buns.</p> +<p><i>More of them</i></p> +<p>They brought him white kid gloves, and pails,<br />And candlesticks, +and potted quails,<br />And capstan-bars, and scales and weights,<br />And +ornaments for empty grates.</p> +<p><i>Why I mention these</i></p> +<p>My tale is not of these—oh no!<br />I only mention them to +show<br />The divers gifts that divers men<br />Brought o’er the +sea to BAILEY BEN.</p> +<p><i>His Confidant</i></p> +<p>A confidant had BAILEY B.,<br />A gay Mongolian dog was he;<br />I +am not good at Turkish names,<br />And so I call him SIMPLE JAMES.</p> +<p><i>His Confidant’s Countenance</i></p> +<p>A dreadful legend you might trace<br />In SIMPLE JAMES’S honest +face,<br />For there you read, in Nature’s print,<br />“A +Scoundrel of the Deepest Tint.”</p> +<p><i>His Character</i></p> +<p>A deed of blood, or fire, or flames,<br />Was meat and drink to SIMPLE +JAMES:<br />To hide his guilt he did not plan,<br />But owned himself +a bad young man.</p> +<p><i>The Author to his Reader</i></p> +<p>And why on earth good BAILEY BEN<br />(The wisest, noblest, best +of men)<br />Made SIMPLE JAMES his right-hand man<br />Is quite beyond +my mental span.</p> +<p><i>The same, continued</i></p> +<p>But there—enough of gruesome deeds!<br />My heart, in thinking +of them, bleeds;<br />And so let SIMPLE JAMES take wing,—<br />’Tis +not of him I’m going to sing.</p> +<p><i>The Pasha’s Clerk</i></p> +<p>Good PASHA BAILEY kept a clerk<br />(For BAILEY only made his mark),<br />His +name was MATTHEW WYCOMBE COO,<br />A man of nearly forty-two.</p> +<p><i>His Accomplishments</i></p> +<p>No person that I ever knew<br />Could “yödel” half +as well as COO,<br />And Highlanders exclaimed, “Eh, weel!”<br />When +COO began to dance a reel.</p> +<p><i>His Kindness to the Pasha’s Wives</i></p> +<p>He used to dance and sing and play<br />In such an unaffected way,<br />He +cheered the unexciting lives<br />Of PASHA BAILEY’S lovely wives.</p> +<p><i>The Author to his Reader</i></p> +<p>But why should I encumber you<br />With histories of MATTHEW COO?<br />Let +MATTHEW COO at once take wing,—<br />’Tis not of COO I’m +going to sing.</p> +<p><i>The Author’s Muse</i></p> +<p>Let me recall my wandering Muse;<br />She <i>shall</i> be steady +if I choose—<br />She roves, instead of helping me<br />To tell +the deeds of BAILEY B.</p> +<p><i>The Pasha’s Visitor</i></p> +<p>One morning knocked, at half-past eight,<br />A tall Red Indian at +his gate.<br />In Turkey, as you’re p’raps aware,<br />Red +Indians are extremely rare.</p> +<p><i>The Visitor’s Outfit</i></p> +<p>Mocassins decked his graceful legs,<br />His eyes were black, and +round as eggs,<br />And on his neck, instead of beads,<br />Hung several +Catawampous seeds.</p> +<p><i>What the Visitor said</i></p> +<p>“Ho, ho!” he said, “thou pale-faced one,<br />Poor +offspring of an Eastern sun,<br />You’ve <i>never</i> seen the +Red Man skip<br />Upon the banks of Mississip!”</p> +<p><i>The Author’s Moderation</i></p> +<p>To say that BAILEY oped his eyes<br />Would feebly paint his great +surprise—<br />To say it almost made him die<br />Would be to +paint it much too high.</p> +<p><i>The Author to his Reader</i></p> +<p>But why should I ransack my head<br />To tell you all that Indian +said;<br />We’ll let the Indian man take wing,—<br />’Tis +not of him I’m going to sing.</p> +<p><i>The Reader to the Author</i></p> +<p>Come, come, I say, that’s quite enough<br />Of this absurd +disjointed stuff;<br />Now let’s get on to that affair<br />About +LIEUTENANT-COLONEL FLARE.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>Ballad: Lieutenant-Colonel Flare</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>The earth has armies plenty,<br />And semi-warlike bands,<br />I +dare say there are twenty<br />In European lands;<br />But, oh! in no +direction<br />You’d find one to compare<br />In brotherly affection<br />With +that of COLONEL FLARE.</p> +<p>His soldiers might be rated<br />As military Pearls.<br />As unsophisticated<br />As +pretty little girls!<br />They never smoked or ratted,<br />Or talked +of Sues or Polls;<br />The Sergeant-Major tatted,<br />The others nursed +their dolls.</p> +<p>He spent his days in teaching<br />These truly solemn facts;<br />There’s +little use in preaching,<br />Or circulating tracts.<br />(The vainest +plan invented<br />For stifling other creeds,<br />Unless it’s +supplemented<br />With charitable <i>deeds</i>.)</p> +<p>He taught his soldiers kindly<br />To give at Hunger’s call:<br />“Oh, +better far give blindly,<br />Than never give at all!<br />Though sympathy +be kindled<br />By Imposition’s game,<br />Oh, better far be swindled<br />Than +smother up its flame!”</p> +<p>His means were far from ample<br />For pleasure or for dress,<br />Yet +note this bright example<br />Of single-heartedness:<br />Though ranking +as a Colonel,<br />His pay was but a groat,<br />While their reward +diurnal<br />Was—each a five-pound note.</p> +<p>Moreover,—this evinces<br />His kindness, you’ll allow,—<br />He +fed them all like princes,<br />And lived himself on cow.<br />He set +them all regaling<br />On curious wines, and dear,<br />While he would +sit pale-ale-ing,<br />Or quaffing ginger-beer.</p> +<p>Then at his instigation<br />(A pretty fancy this)<br />Their daily +pay and ration<br />He’d take in change for his;<br />They brought +it to him weekly,<br />And he without a groan,<br />Would take it from +them meekly<br />And give them all his own!</p> +<p>Though not exactly knighted<br />As knights, of course, should be,<br />Yet +no one so delighted<br />In harmless chivalry.<br />If peasant girl +or ladye<br />Beneath misfortunes sank,<br />Whate’er distinctions +made he,<br />They were not those of rank.</p> +<p>No maiden young and comely<br />Who wanted good advice<br />(However +poor or homely)<br />Need ask him for it twice.<br />He’d wipe +away the blindness<br />That comes of teary dew;<br />His sympathetic +kindness<br />No sort of limit knew.</p> +<p>He always hated dealing<br />With men who schemed or planned;<br />A +person harsh—unfeeling—<br />The Colonel could not stand.<br />He +hated cold, suspecting,<br />Official men in blue,<br />Who pass their +lives detecting<br />The crimes that others do.</p> +<p>For men who’d shoot a sparrow,<br />Or immolate a worm<br />Beneath +a farmer’s harrow,<br />He could not find a term.<br />Humanely, +ay, and knightly<br />He dealt with such an one;<br />He took and tied +him tightly,<br />And blew him from a gun.</p> +<p>The earth has armies plenty,<br />And semi-warlike bands,<br />I’m +certain there are twenty<br />In European lands;<br />But, oh! in no +direction<br />You’d find one to compare<br />In brotherly affection<br />With +that of COLONEL FLARE.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>Ballad: Lost Mr. Blake</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>MR. BLAKE was a regular out-and-out hardened sinner,<br />Who was +quite out of the pale of Christianity, so to speak,<br />He was in the +habit of smoking a long pipe and drinking a glass of grog on a Sunday +after dinner,<br />And seldom thought of going to church more than twice +or—if Good Friday or Christmas Day happened to come in it—three +times a week.</p> +<p>He was quite indifferent as to the particular kinds of dresses<br />That +the clergyman wore at church where he used to go to pray,<br />And whatever +he did in the way of relieving a chap’s distresses,<br />He always +did in a nasty, sneaking, underhanded, hole-and-corner sort of way.</p> +<p>I have known him indulge in profane, ungentlemanly emphatics,<br />When +the Protestant Church has been divided on the subject of the proper +width of a chasuble’s hem;<br />I have even known him to sneer +at albs—and as for dalmatics,<br />Words can’t convey an +idea of the contempt he expressed for <i>them.</i></p> +<p>He didn’t believe in persons who, not being well off themselves, +are obliged to confine their charitable exertions to collecting money +from wealthier people,<br />And looked upon individuals of the former +class as ecclesiastical hawks;<br />He used to say that he would no +more think of interfering with his priest’s robes than with his +church or his steeple,<br />And that he did not consider his soul imperilled +because somebody over whom he had no influence whatever, chose to dress +himself up like an exaggerated GUY FAWKES.</p> +<p>This shocking old vagabond was so unutterably shameless<br />That +he actually went a-courting a very respectable and pious middle-aged +sister, by the name of BIGGS.<br />She was a rather attractive widow, +whose life as such had always been particularly blameless;<br />Her +first husband had left her a secure but moderate competence, owing to +some fortunate speculations in the matter of figs.</p> +<p>She was an excellent person in every way—and won the respect +even of MRS. GRUNDY,<br />She was a good housewife, too, and wouldn’t +have wasted a penny if she had owned the Koh-i-noor.<br />She was just +as strict as he was lax in her observance of Sunday,<br />And being +a good economist, and charitable besides, she took all the bones and +cold potatoes and broken pie-crusts and candle-ends (when she had quite +done with them), and made them into an excellent soup for the deserving +poor.</p> +<p>I am sorry to say that she rather took to BLAKE—that outcast +of society,<br />And when respectable brothers who were fond of her +began to look dubious and to cough,<br />She would say, “Oh, my +friends, it’s because I hope to bring this poor benighted soul +back to virtue and propriety,<br />And besides, the poor benighted soul, +with all his faults, was uncommonly well off.</p> +<p>And when MR. BLAKE’S dissipated friends called his attention +to the frown or the pout of her,<br />Whenever he did anything which +appeared to her to savour of an unmentionable place,<br />He would say +that “she would be a very decent old girl when all that nonsense +was knocked out of her,”<br />And his method of knocking it out +of her is one that covered him with disgrace.</p> +<p>She was fond of going to church services four times every Sunday, +and, four or five times in the week, and never seemed to pall of them,<br />So +he hunted out all the churches within a convenient distance that had +services at different hours, so to speak;<br />And when he had married +her he positively insisted upon their going to all of them,<br />So +they contrived to do about twelve churches every Sunday, and, if they +had luck, from twenty-two to twenty-three in the course of the week.</p> +<p>She was fond of dropping his sovereigns ostentatiously into the plate, +and she liked to see them stand out rather conspicuously against the +commonplace half-crowns and shillings,<br />So he took her to all the +charity sermons, and if by any extraordinary chance there wasn’t +a charity sermon anywhere, he would drop a couple of sovereigns (one +for him and one for her) into the poor-box at the door;<br />And as +he always deducted the sums thus given in charity from the housekeeping +money, and the money he allowed her for her bonnets and frillings,<br />She +soon began to find that even charity, if you allow it to interfere with +your personal luxuries, becomes an intolerable bore.</p> +<p>On Sundays she was always melancholy and anything but good society,<br />For +that day in her household was a day of sighings and sobbings and wringing +of hands and shaking of heads:<br />She wouldn’t hear of a button +being sewn on a glove, because it was a work neither of necessity nor +of piety,<br />And strictly prohibited her servants from amusing themselves, +or indeed doing anything at all except dusting the drawing-rooms, cleaning +the boots and shoes, cooking the parlour dinner, waiting generally on +the family, and making the beds.<br />But BLAKE even went further than +that, and said that people should do their own works of necessity, and +not delegate them to persons in a menial situation,<br />So he wouldn’t +allow his servants to do so much as even answer a bell.<br />Here he +is making his wife carry up the water for her bath to the second floor, +much against her inclination,—<br />And why in the world the gentleman +who illustrates these ballads has put him in a cocked hat is more than +I can tell.</p> +<p>After about three months of this sort of thing, taking the smooth +with the rough of it,<br />(Blacking her own boots and peeling her own +potatoes was not her notion of connubial bliss),<br />MRS. BLAKE began +to find that she had pretty nearly had enough of it,<br />And came, +in course of time, to think that BLAKE’S own original line of +conduct wasn’t so much amiss.</p> +<p>And now that wicked person—that detestable sinner (“BELIAL +BLAKE” his friends and well-wishers call him for his atrocities),<br />And +his poor deluded victim, whom all her Christian brothers dislike and +pity so,<br />Go to the parish church only on Sunday morning and afternoon +and occasionally on a week-day, and spend their evenings in connubial +fondlings and affectionate reciprocities,<br />And I should like to +know where in the world (or rather, out of it) they expect to go!</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>Ballad: The Baby’s Vengeance</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Weary at heart and extremely ill<br />Was PALEY VOLLAIRE of Bromptonville,<br />In +a dirty lodging, with fever down,<br />Close to the Polygon, Somers +Town.</p> +<p>PALEY VOLLAIRE was an only son<br />(For why? His mother had +had but one),<br />And PALEY inherited gold and grounds<br />Worth several +hundred thousand pounds.</p> +<p>But he, like many a rich young man,<br />Through this magnificent +fortune ran,<br />And nothing was left for his daily needs<br />But +duplicate copies of mortgage-deeds.</p> +<p>Shabby and sorry and sorely sick,<br />He slept, and dreamt that +the clock’s “tick, tick,”<br />Was one of the Fates, +with a long sharp knife,<br />Snicking off bits of his shortened life.</p> +<p>He woke and counted the pips on the walls,<br />The outdoor passengers’ +loud footfalls,<br />And reckoned all over, and reckoned again,<br />The +little white tufts on his counterpane.</p> +<p>A medical man to his bedside came.<br />(I can’t remember that +doctor’s name),<br />And said, “You’ll die in a very +short while<br />If you don’t set sail for Madeira’s isle.”</p> +<p>“Go to Madeira? goodness me!<br />I haven’t the money +to pay your fee!”<br />“Then, PALEY VOLLAIRE,” said +the leech, “good bye;<br />I’ll come no more, for your’re +sure to die.”</p> +<p>He sighed and he groaned and smote his breast;<br />“Oh, send,” +said he, “for FREDERICK WEST,<br />Ere senses fade or my eyes +grow dim:<br />I’ve a terrible tale to whisper him!”</p> +<p>Poor was FREDERICK’S lot in life,—<br />A dustman he +with a fair young wife,<br />A worthy man with a hard-earned store,<br />A +hundred and seventy pounds—or more.</p> +<p>FREDERICK came, and he said, “Maybe<br />You’ll say what +you happened to want with me?”<br />“Wronged boy,” +said PALEY VOLLAIRE, “I will,<br />But don’t you fidget +yourself—sit still.”</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>THE TERRIBLE TALE.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>“’Tis now some thirty-seven years ago<br />Since first +began the plot that I’m revealing,<br />A fine young woman, whom +you ought to know,<br />Lived with her husband down in Drum Lane, Ealing.<br />Herself +by means of mangling reimbursing,<br />And now and then (at intervals) +wet-nursing.</p> +<p>“Two little babes dwelt in their humble cot:<br />One was her +own—the other only lent to her:<br /><i>Her own she slighted</i>. +Tempted by a lot<br />Of gold and silver regularly sent to her,<br />She +ministered unto the little other<br />In the capacity of foster-mother.</p> +<p>“<i>I was her own</i>. Oh! how I lay and sobbed<br />In +my poor cradle—deeply, deeply cursing<br />The rich man’s +pampered bantling, who had robbed<br />My only birthright—an attentive +nursing!<br />Sometimes in hatred of my foster-brother,<br />I gnashed +my gums—which terrified my mother.</p> +<p>“One day—it was quite early in the week—<br />I +<i>in</i> MY <i>cradle having placed the bantling</i>—<br />Crept +into his! He had not learnt to speak,<br />But I could see his +face with anger mantling.<br />It was imprudent—well, disgraceful +maybe,<br />For, oh! I was a bad, blackhearted baby!</p> +<p>“So great a luxury was food, I think<br />No wickedness but +I was game to try for it.<br /><i>Now</i> if I wanted anything to drink<br />At +any time, I only had to cry for it!<br /><i>Once</i>, if I dared to +weep, the bottle lacking,<br />My blubbering involved a serious smacking!</p> +<p>“We grew up in the usual way—my friend,<br />My foster-brother, +daily growing thinner,<br />While gradually I began to mend,<br />And +thrived amazingly on double dinner.<br />And every one, besides my foster-mother,<br />Believed +that either of us was the other.</p> +<p>“I came into <i>his</i> wealth—I bore <i>his</i> name,<br />I +bear it still—<i>his</i> property I squandered—<br />I mortgaged +everything—and now (oh, shame!)<br />Into a Somers Town shake-down +I’ve wandered!<br />I am no PALEY—no, VOLLAIRE—it’s +true, my boy!<br />The only rightful PALEY V. is <i>you</i>, my boy!</p> +<p>“And all I have is yours—and yours is mine.<br />I still +may place you in your true position:<br />Give me the pounds you’ve +saved, and I’ll resign<br />My noble name, my rank, and my condition.<br />So +far my wickedness in falsely owning<br />Your vasty wealth, I am at +last atoning!”</p> +<p>* * * * * * *</p> +<p>FREDERICK he was a simple soul,<br />He pulled from his pocket a +bulky roll,<br />And gave to PALEY his hard-earned store,<br />A hundred +and seventy pounds or more.</p> +<p>PALEY VOLLAIRE, with many a groan,<br />Gave FREDERICK all that he +called his own,—<br />Two shirts and a sock, and a vest of jean,<br />A +Wellington boot and a bamboo cane.</p> +<p>And FRED (entitled to all things there)<br />He took the fever from +MR. VOLLAIRE,<br />Which killed poor FREDERICK WEST. Meanwhile<br />VOLLAIRE +sailed off to Madeira’s isle.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>Ballad: The Captain And The Mermaids</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>I sing a legend of the sea,<br />So hard-a-port upon your lee!<br />A +ship on starboard tack!<br />She’s bound upon a private cruise—<br />(This +is the kind of spice I use<br />To give a salt-sea smack).</p> +<p>Behold, on every afternoon<br />(Save in a gale or strong Monsoon)<br />Great +CAPTAIN CAPEL CLEGGS<br />(Great morally, though rather short)<br />Sat +at an open weather-port<br />And aired his shapely legs.</p> +<p>And Mermaids hung around in flocks,<br />On cable chains and distant +rocks,<br />To gaze upon those limbs;<br />For legs like those, of flesh +and bone,<br />Are things “not generally known”<br />To +any Merman TIMBS.</p> +<p>But Mermen didn’t seem to care<br />Much time (as far as I’m +aware)<br />With CLEGGS’S legs to spend;<br />Though Mermaids +swam around all day<br />And gazed, exclaiming, “<i>That’s</i> +the way<br />A gentleman should end!</p> +<p>“A pair of legs with well-cut knees,<br />And calves and ankles +such as these<br />Which we in rapture hail,<br />Are far more eloquent, +it’s clear<br />(When clothed in silk and kerseymere),<br />Than +any nasty tail.”</p> +<p>And CLEGGS—a worthy kind old boy—<br />Rejoiced to add +to others’ joy,<br />And, when the day was dry,<br />Because it +pleased the lookers-on,<br />He sat from morn till night—though +con-<br />Stitutionally shy.</p> +<p>At first the Mermen laughed, “Pooh! pooh!”<br />But finally +they jealous grew,<br />And sounded loud recalls;<br />But vainly. +So these fishy males<br />Declared they too would clothe their tails<br />In +silken hose and smalls.</p> +<p>They set to work, these water-men,<br />And made their nether robes—but +when<br />They drew with dainty touch<br />The kerseymere upon their +tails,<br />They found it scraped against their scales,<br />And hurt +them very much.</p> +<p>The silk, besides, with which they chose<br />To deck their tails +by way of hose<br />(They never thought of shoon),<br />For such a use +was much too thin,—<br />It tore against the caudal fin,<br />And +“went in ladders” soon.</p> +<p>So they designed another plan:<br />They sent their most seductive +man<br />This note to him to show—<br />“Our Monarch sends +to CAPTAIN CLEGGS<br />His humble compliments, and begs<br />He’ll +join him down below;</p> +<p>“We’ve pleasant homes below the sea—<br />Besides, +if CAPTAIN CLEGGS should be<br />(As our advices say)<br />A judge of +Mermaids, he will find<br />Our lady-fish of every kind<br />Inspection +will repay.”</p> +<p>Good CAPEL sent a kind reply,<br />For CAPEL thought he could descry<br />An +admirable plan<br />To study all their ways and laws—<br />(But +not their lady-fish, because<br />He was a married man).</p> +<p>The Merman sank—the Captain too<br />Jumped overboard, and +dropped from view<br />Like stone from catapult;<br />And when he reached +the Merman’s lair,<br />He certainly was welcomed there,<br />But, +ah! with what result?</p> +<p>They didn’t let him learn their law,<br />Or make a note of +what he saw,<br />Or interesting mem.:<br />The lady-fish he couldn’t +find,<br />But that, of course, he didn’t mind—<br />He +didn’t come for them.</p> +<p>For though, when CAPTAIN CAPEL sank,<br />The Mermen drawn in double +rank<br />Gave him a hearty hail,<br />Yet when secure of CAPTAIN CLEGGS,<br />They +cut off both his lovely legs,<br />And gave him <i>such</i> a tail!</p> +<p>When CAPTAIN CLEGGS returned aboard,<br />His blithesome crew convulsive +roar’d,<br />To see him altered so.<br />The Admiralty did insist<br />That +he upon the Half-pay List<br />Immediately should go.</p> +<p>In vain declared the poor old salt,<br />“It’s my misfortune—not +my fault,”<br />With tear and trembling lip—<br />In vain +poor CAPEL begged and begged.<br />“A man must be completely legged<br />Who +rules a British ship.”</p> +<p>So spake the stern First Lord aloud—<br />He was a wag, though +very proud,<br />And much rejoiced to say,<br />“You’re +only half a captain now—<br />And so, my worthy friend, I vow<br />You’ll +only get half-pay!”</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>Ballad: Annie Protheroe. A Legend of Stratford-Le-Bow</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Oh! listen to the tale of little ANNIE PROTHEROE.<br />She kept a +small post-office in the neighbourhood of BOW;<br />She loved a skilled +mechanic, who was famous in his day—<br />A gentle executioner +whose name was GILBERT CLAY.</p> +<p>I think I hear you say, “A dreadful subject for your rhymes!”<br />O +reader, do not shrink—he didn’t live in modern times!<br />He +lived so long ago (the sketch will show it at a glance)<br />That all +his actions glitter with the lime-light of Romance.</p> +<p>In busy times he laboured at his gentle craft all day—<br />“No +doubt you mean his Cal-craft,” you amusingly will say—<br />But, +no—he didn’t operate with common bits of string,<br />He +was a Public Headsman, which is quite another thing.</p> +<p>And when his work was over, they would ramble o’er the lea,<br />And +sit beneath the frondage of an elderberry tree,<br />And ANNIE’S +simple prattle entertained him on his walk,<br />For public executions +formed the subject of her talk.</p> +<p>And sometimes he’d explain to her, which charmed her very much,<br />How +famous operators vary very much in touch,<br />And then, perhaps, he’d +show how he himself performed the trick,<br />And illustrate his meaning +with a poppy and a stick.</p> +<p>Or, if it rained, the little maid would stop at home, and look<br />At +his favourable notices, all pasted in a book,<br />And then her cheek +would flush—her swimming eyes would dance with joy<br />In a glow +of admiration at the prowess of her boy.</p> +<p>One summer eve, at supper-time, the gentle GILBERT said<br />(As +he helped his pretty ANNIE to a slice of collared head),<br />“This +reminds me I must settle on the next ensuing day<br />The hash of that +unmitigated villain PETER GRAY.”</p> +<p>He saw his ANNIE tremble and he saw his ANNIE start,<br />Her changing +colour trumpeted the flutter at her heart;<br />Young GILBERT’S +manly bosom rose and sank with jealous fear,<br />And he said, “O +gentle ANNIE, what’s the meaning of this here?”</p> +<p>And ANNIE answered, blushing in an interesting way,<br />“You +think, no doubt, I’m sighing for that felon PETER GRAY:<br />That +I was his young woman is unquestionably true,<br />But not since I began +a-keeping company with you.”</p> +<p>Then GILBERT, who was irritable, rose and loudly swore<br />He’d +know the reason why if she refused to tell him more;<br />And she answered +(all the woman in her flashing from her eyes)<br />“You mustn’t +ask no questions, and you won’t be told no lies!</p> +<p>“Few lovers have the privilege enjoyed, my dear, by you,<br />Of +chopping off a rival’s head and quartering him too!<br />Of vengeance, +dear, to-morrow you will surely take your fill!”<br />And GILBERT +ground his molars as he answered her, “I will!”</p> +<p>Young GILBERT rose from table with a stern determined look,<br />And, +frowning, took an inexpensive hatchet from its hook;<br />And ANNIE +watched his movements with an interested air—<br />For the morrow—for +the morrow he was going to prepare!</p> +<p>He chipped it with a hammer and he chopped it with a bill,<br />He +poured sulphuric acid on the edge of it, until<br />This terrible Avenger +of the Majesty of Law<br />Was far less like a hatchet than a dissipated +saw.</p> +<p>And ANNIE said, “O GILBERT, dear, I do not understand<br />Why +ever you are injuring that hatchet in your hand?’<br />He said, +“It is intended for to lacerate and flay<br />The neck of that +unmitigated villain PETER GRAY!”</p> +<p>“Now, GILBERT,” ANNIE answered, “wicked headsman, +just beware—<br />I won’t have PETER tortured with that +horrible affair;<br />If you appear with that, you may depend you’ll +rue the day.”<br />But GILBERT said, “Oh, shall I?” +which was just his nasty way.</p> +<p>He saw a look of anger from her eyes distinctly dart,<br />For ANNIE +was a woman, and had pity in her heart!<br />She wished him a good evening—he +answered with a glare;<br />She only said, “Remember, for your +ANNIE will be there!”</p> +<p>* * * * * * * *</p> +<p>The morrow GILBERT boldly on the scaffold took his stand,<br />With +a vizor on his face and with a hatchet in his hand,<br />And all the +people noticed that the Engine of the Law<br />Was far less like a hatchet +than a dissipated saw.</p> +<p>The felon very coolly loosed his collar and his stock,<br />And placed +his wicked head upon the handy little block.<br />The hatchet was uplifted +for to settle PETER GRAY,<br />When GILBERT plainly heard a woman’s +voice exclaiming, “Stay!”</p> +<p>’Twas ANNIE, gentle ANNIE, as you’ll easily believe.<br />“O +GILBERT, you must spare him, for I bring him a reprieve,<br />It came +from our Home Secretary many weeks ago,<br />And passed through that +post-office which I used to keep at Bow.</p> +<p>“I loved you, loved you madly, and you know it, GILBERT CLAY,<br />And +as I’d quite surrendered all idea of PETER GRAY,<br />I quietly +suppressed it, as you’ll clearly understand,<br />For I thought +it might be awkward if he came and claimed my hand.</p> +<p>“In anger at my secret (which I could not tell before),<br />To +lacerate poor PETER GRAY vindictively you swore;<br />I told you if +you used that blunted axe you’d rue the day,<br />And so you will, +young GILBERT, for I’ll marry PETER GRAY!”</p> +<p>[<i>And so she did.</i></p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>Ballad: An Unfortunate Likeness</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>I’ve painted SHAKESPEARE all my life—<br />“An +infant” (even then at “play”!)<br />“A boy,” +with stage-ambition rife,<br />Then “Married to ANN HATHAWAY.”</p> +<p>“The bard’s first ticket night” (or “ben.”),<br />His +“First appearance on the stage,”<br />His “Call before +the curtain”—then<br />“Rejoicings when he came of +age.”</p> +<p>The bard play-writing in his room,<br />The bard a humble lawyer’s +clerk.<br />The bard a lawyer <a name="citation1"></a><a href="#footnote1">{1}</a>—parson +<a name="citation2"></a><a href="#footnote2">{2}</a>—groom <a name="citation3"></a><a href="#footnote3">{3}</a>—<br />The +bard deer-stealing, after dark.</p> +<p>The bard a tradesman <a name="citation4"></a><a href="#footnote4">{4}</a>—and +a Jew <a name="citation5"></a><a href="#footnote5">{5}</a>—<br />The +bard a botanist <a name="citation6"></a><a href="#footnote6">{6}</a>—a +beak <a name="citation7"></a><a href="#footnote7">{7}</a>—<br />The +bard a skilled musician <a name="citation8"></a><a href="#footnote8">{8}</a> +too—<br />A sheriff <a name="citation9"></a><a href="#footnote9">{9}</a> +and a surgeon <a name="citation10"></a><a href="#footnote10">{10}</a> +eke!</p> +<p>Yet critics say (a friendly stock)<br />That, though it’s evident +I try,<br />Yet even <i>I</i> can barely mock<br />The glimmer of his +wondrous eye!</p> +<p>One morning as a work I framed,<br />There passed a person, walking +hard:<br />“My gracious goodness,” I exclaimed,<br />“How +very like my dear old bard!</p> +<p>“Oh, what a model he would make!”<br />I rushed outside—impulsive +me!—<br />“Forgive the liberty I take,<br />But you’re +so very”—“Stop!” said he.</p> +<p>“You needn’t waste your breath or time,—<br />I +know what you are going to say,—<br />That you’re an artist, +and that I’m<br />Remarkably like SHAKESPEARE. Eh?</p> +<p>“You wish that I would sit to you?”<br />I clasped him +madly round the waist,<br />And breathlessly replied, “I do!”<br />“All +right,” said he, “but please make haste.”</p> +<p>I led him by his hallowed sleeve,<br />And worked away at him apace,<br />I +painted him till dewy eve,—<br />There never was a nobler face!</p> +<p>“Oh, sir,” I said, “a fortune grand<br />Is yours, +by dint of merest chance,—<br />To sport <i>his</i> brow at second-hand,<br />To +wear <i>his</i> cast-off countenance!</p> +<p>“To rub <i>his</i> eyes whene’er they ache—<br />To +wear <i>his</i> baldness ere you’re old—<br />To clean <i>his</i> +teeth when you awake—<br />To blow <i>his</i> nose when you’ve +a cold!”</p> +<p>His eyeballs glistened in his eyes—<br />I sat and watched +and smoked my pipe;<br />“Bravo!” I said, “I recognize<br />The +phrensy of your prototype!”</p> +<p>His scanty hair he wildly tore:<br />“That’s right,” +said I, “it shows your breed.”<br />He danced—he stamped—he +wildly swore—<br />“Bless me, that’s very fine indeed!”</p> +<p>“Sir,” said the grand Shakesperian boy<br />(Continuing +to blaze away),<br />“You think my face a source of joy;<br />That +shows you know not what you say.</p> +<p>“Forgive these yells and cellar-flaps:<br />I’m always +thrown in some such state<br />When on his face well-meaning chaps<br />This +wretched man congratulate.</p> +<p>“For, oh! this face—this pointed chin—<br />This +nose—this brow—these eyeballs too,<br />Have always been +the origin<br />Of all the woes I ever knew!</p> +<p>“If to the play my way I find,<br />To see a grand Shakesperian +piece,<br />I have no rest, no ease of mind<br />Until the author’s +puppets cease.</p> +<p>“Men nudge each other—thus—and say,<br />‘This +certainly is SHAKESPEARE’S son,’<br />And merry wags (of +course in play)<br />Cry ‘Author!’ when the piece is done.</p> +<p>“In church the people stare at me,<br />Their soul the sermon +never binds;<br />I catch them looking round to see,<br />And thoughts +of SHAKESPEARE fill their minds.</p> +<p>“And sculptors, fraught with cunning wile,<br />Who find it +difficult to crown<br />A bust with BROWN’S insipid smile,<br />Or +TOMKINS’S unmannered frown,</p> +<p>“Yet boldly make my face their own,<br />When (oh, presumption!) +they require<br />To animate a paving-stone<br />With SHAKESPEARE’S +intellectual fire.</p> +<p>“At parties where young ladies gaze,<br />And I attempt to +speak my joy,<br />‘Hush, pray,’ some lovely creature says,<br />‘The +fond illusion don’t destroy!’</p> +<p>“Whene’er I speak, my soul is wrung<br />With these or +some such whisperings:<br />‘’Tis pity that a SHAKESPEARE’S +tongue<br />Should say such un-Shakesperian things!’</p> +<p>“I should not thus be criticised<br />Had I a face of common +wont:<br />Don’t envy me—now, be advised!”<br />And, +now I think of it, I don’t!</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>Ballad: Gregory Parable, LL.D.</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>A leafy cot, where no dry rot<br />Had ever been by tenant seen,<br />Where +ivy clung and wopses stung,<br />Where beeses hummed and drummed and +strummed,<br />Where treeses grew and breezes blew—<br />A thatchy +roof, quite waterproof,<br />Where countless herds of dicky-birds<br />Built +twiggy beds to lay their heads<br />(My mother begs I’ll make +it “eggs,”<br />But though it’s true that dickies +do<br />Construct a nest with chirpy noise,<br />With view to rest their +eggy joys,<br />’Neath eavy sheds, yet eggs and beds,<br />As +I explain to her in vain<br />Five hundred times, are faulty rhymes).<br />’Neath +such a cot, built on a plot<br />Of freehold land, dwelt MARY and<br />Her +worthy father, named by me<br />GREGORY PARABLE, LL.D.</p> +<p>He knew no guile, this simple man,<br />No worldly wile, or plot, +or plan,<br />Except that plot of freehold land<br />That held the cot, +and MARY, and<br />Her worthy father, named by me<br />GREGORY PARABLE, +LL.D.</p> +<p>A grave and learned scholar he,<br />Yet simple as a child could +be.<br />He’d shirk his meal to sit and cram<br />A goodish deal +of Eton Gram.<br />No man alive could him nonplus<br />With vocative +of <i>filius</i>;<br />No man alive more fully knew<br />The passive +of a verb or two;<br />None better knew the worth than he<br />Of words +that end in <i>b, d, t.<br /></i>Upon his green in early spring<br />He +might be seen endeavouring<br />To understand the hooks and crooks<br />Of +HENRY and his Latin books;<br />Or calling for his “Caesar on<br />The +Gallic War,” like any don;<br />Or, p’raps, expounding unto +all<br />How mythic BALBUS built a wall.<br />So lived the sage who’s +named by me<br />GREGORY PARABLE, LL.D.</p> +<p>To him one autumn day there came<br />A lovely youth of mystic name:<br />He +took a lodging in the house,<br />And fell a-dodging snipe and grouse,<br />For, +oh! that mild scholastic one<br />Let shooting for a single gun.</p> +<p>By three or four, when sport was o’er,<br />The Mystic One +laid by his gun,<br />And made sheep’s eyes of giant size,<br />Till +after tea, at MARY P.<br />And MARY P. (so kind was she),<br />She, +too, made eyes of giant size,<br />Whose every dart right through the +heart<br />Appeared to run that Mystic One.<br />The Doctor’s +whim engrossing him,<br />He did not know they flirted so.<br />For, +save at tea, “<i>musa musae</i>,”<br />As I’m advised, +monopolised<br />And rendered blind his giant mind.<br />But looking +up above his cup<br />One afternoon, he saw them spoon.<br />“Aha!” +quoth he, “you naughty lass!<br />As quaint old OVID says, ‘Amas!’”</p> +<p>The Mystic Youth avowed the truth,<br />And, claiming ruth, he said, +“In sooth<br />I love your daughter, aged man:<br />Refuse to +join us if you can.<br />Treat not my offer, sir, with scorn,<br />I’m +wealthy though I’m lowly born.”<br />“Young sir,” +the aged scholar said,<br />“I never thought you meant to wed:<br />Engrossed +completely with my books,<br />I little noticed lovers’ looks.<br />I’ve +lived so long away from man,<br />I do not know of any plan<br />By +which to test a lover’s worth,<br />Except, perhaps, the test +of birth.<br />I’ve half forgotten in this wild<br />A father’s +duty to his child.<br />It is his place, I think it’s said,<br />To +see his daughters richly wed<br />To dignitaries of the earth—<br />If +possible, of noble birth.<br />If noble birth is not at hand,<br />A +father may, I understand<br />(And this affords a chance for you),<br />Be +satisfied to wed her to<br />A BOUCICAULT or BARING—which<br />Means +any one who’s very rich.<br />Now, there’s an Earl who lives +hard by,—<br />My child and I will go and try<br />If he will +make the maid his bride—<br />If not, to you she shall be tied.”</p> +<p>They sought the Earl that very day;<br />The Sage began to say his +say.<br />The Earl (a very wicked man,<br />Whose face bore Vice’s +blackest ban)<br />Cut short the scholar’s simple tale,<br />And +said in voice to make them quail,<br />“Pooh! go along! you’re +drunk, no doubt—<br />Here, PETERS, turn these people out!”</p> +<p>The Sage, rebuffed in mode uncouth,<br />Returning, met the Mystic +Youth.<br />“My darling boy,” the Scholar said,<br />“Take +MARY—blessings on your head!”</p> +<p>The Mystic Boy undid his vest,<br />And took a parchment from his +breast,<br />And said, “Now, by that noble brow,<br />I ne’er +knew father such as thou!<br />The sterling rule of common sense<br />Now +reaps its proper recompense.<br />Rejoice, my soul’s unequalled +Queen,<br />For I am DUKE OF GRETNA GREEN!”</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>Ballad: The King Of Canoodle-Dum</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>The story of FREDERICK GOWLER,<br />A mariner of the sea,<br />Who +quitted his ship, the <i>Howler,<br /></i>A-sailing in Caribbee.<br />For +many a day he wandered,<br />Till he met in a state of rum<br />CALAMITY +POP VON PEPPERMINT DROP,<br />The King of Canoodle-Dum.</p> +<p>That monarch addressed him gaily,<br />“Hum! Golly de +do to-day?<br />Hum! Lily-white Buckra Sailee”—<br />(You +notice his playful way?)—<br />“What dickens you doin’ +here, sar?<br />Why debbil you want to come?<br />Hum! Picaninnee, +dere isn’t no sea<br />In City Canoodle-Dum!”</p> +<p>And GOWLER he answered sadly,<br />“Oh, mine is a doleful tale!<br />They’ve +treated me werry badly<br />In Lunnon, from where I hail.<br />I’m +one of the Family Royal—<br />No common Jack Tar you see;<br />I’m +WILLIAM THE FOURTH, far up in the North,<br />A King in my own countree!”</p> +<p>Bang-bang! How the tom-toms thundered!<br />Bang-bang! +How they thumped this gongs!<br />Bang-bang! How the people wondered!<br />Bang-bang! +At it hammer and tongs!<br />Alliance with Kings of Europe<br />Is an +honour Canoodlers seek,<br />Her monarchs don’t stop with PEPPERMINT +DROP<br />Every day in the week!</p> +<p>FRED told them that he was undone,<br />For his people all went insane,<br />And +fired the Tower of London,<br />And Grinnidge’s Naval Fane.<br />And +some of them racked St. James’s,<br />And vented their rage upon<br />The +Church of St. Paul, the Fishmongers’ Hall,<br />And the Angel +at Islington.</p> +<p>CALAMITY POP implored him<br />In his capital to remain<br />Till +those people of his restored him<br />To power and rank again.<br />CALAMITY +POP he made him<br />A Prince of Canoodle-Dum,<br />With a couple of +caves, some beautiful slaves,<br />And the run of the royal rum.</p> +<p>Pop gave him his only daughter,<br />HUM PICKETY WIMPLE TIP:<br />FRED +vowed that if over the water<br />He went, in an English ship,<br />He’d +make her his Queen,—though truly<br />It is an unusual thing<br />For +a Caribbee brat who’s as black as your hat<br />To be wife of +an English King.</p> +<p>And all the Canoodle-Dummers<br />They copied his rolling walk,<br />His +method of draining rummers,<br />His emblematical talk.<br />For his +dress and his graceful breeding,<br />His delicate taste in rum,<br />And +his nautical way, were the talk of the day<br />In the Court of Canoodle-Dum.</p> +<p>CALAMITY POP most wisely<br />Determined in everything<br />To model +his Court precisely<br />On that of the English King;<br />And ordered +that every lady<br />And every lady’s lord<br />Should masticate +jacky (a kind of tobaccy),<br />And scatter its juice abroad.</p> +<p>They signified wonder roundly<br />At any astounding yarn,<br />By +darning their dear eyes roundly<br />(’T was all they had to darn).<br />They +“hoisted their slacks,” adjusting<br />Garments of plantain-leaves<br />With +nautical twitches (as if they wore breeches,<br />Instead of a dress +like EVE’S!)</p> +<p>They shivered their timbers proudly,<br />At a phantom forelock dragged,<br />And +called for a hornpipe loudly<br />Whenever amusement flagged.<br />“Hum! +Golly! him POP resemble,<br />Him Britisher sov’reign, hum!<br />CALAMITY +POP VON PEPPERMINT DROP,<br />De King of Canoodle-Dum!”</p> +<p>The mariner’s lively “Hollo!”<br />Enlivened Canoodle’s +plain<br />(For blessings unnumbered follow<br />In Civilization’s +train).<br />But Fortune, who loves a bathos,<br />A terrible ending +planned,<br />For ADMIRAL D. CHICKABIDDY, C.B.,<br />Placed foot on +Canoodle land!</p> +<p>That rebel, he seized KING GOWLER,<br />He threatened his royal brains,<br />And +put him aboard the <i>Howler,<br /></i>And fastened him down with chains.<br />The +<i>Howler</i> she weighed her anchor,<br />With FREDERICK nicely nailed,<br />And +off to the North with WILLIAM THE FOURTH<br />These horrible pirates +sailed.</p> +<p>CALAMITY said (with folly),<br />“Hum! nebber want him again—<br />Him +civilize all of us, golly!<br />CALAMITY suck him brain!”<br />The +people, however, were pained when<br />They saw him aboard his ship,<br />But +none of them wept for their FREDDY, except<br />HUM PICKETY WIMPLE TIP.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>Ballad: First Love</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>A clergyman in Berkshire dwelt,<br />The REVEREND BERNARD POWLES,<br />And +in his church there weekly knelt<br />At least a hundred souls.</p> +<p>There little ELLEN you might see,<br />The modest rustic belle;<br />In +maidenly simplicity,<br />She loved her BERNARD well.</p> +<p>Though ELLEN wore a plain silk gown<br />Untrimmed with lace or fur,<br />Yet +not a husband in the town<br />But wished his wife like her.</p> +<p>Though sterner memories might fade,<br />You never could forget<br />The +child-form of that baby-maid,<br />The Village Violet!</p> +<p>A simple frightened loveliness,<br />Whose sacred spirit-part<br />Shrank +timidly from worldly stress,<br />And nestled in your heart.</p> +<p>POWLES woo’d with every well-worn plan<br />And all the usual +wiles<br />With which a well-schooled gentleman<br />A simple heart +beguiles.</p> +<p>The hackneyed compliments that bore<br />World-folks like you and +me,<br />Appeared to her as if they wore<br />The crown of Poesy.</p> +<p>His winking eyelid sang a song<br />Her heart could understand,<br />Eternity +seemed scarce too long<br />When BERNARD squeezed her hand.</p> +<p>He ordered down the martial crew<br />Of GODFREY’S Grenadiers,<br />And +COOTE conspired with TINNEY to<br />Ecstaticise her ears.</p> +<p>Beneath her window, veiled from eye,<br />They nightly took their +stand;<br />On birthdays supplemented by<br />The Covent Garden band.</p> +<p>And little ELLEN, all alone,<br />Enraptured sat above,<br />And +thought how blest she was to own<br />The wealth of POWLES’S love.</p> +<p>I often, often wonder what<br />Poor ELLEN saw in him;<br />For calculated +he was <i>not<br /></i>To please a woman’s whim.</p> +<p>He wasn’t good, despite the air<br />An M.B. waistcoat gives;<br />Indeed, +his dearest friends declare<br />No greater humbug lives.</p> +<p>No kind of virtue decked this priest,<br />He’d nothing to +allure;<br />He wasn’t handsome in the least,—<br />He wasn’t +even poor.</p> +<p>No—he was cursed with acres fat<br />(A Christian’s direst +ban),<br />And gold—yet, notwithstanding that,<br />Poor ELLEN +loved the man.</p> +<p>As unlike BERNARD as could be<br />Was poor old AARON WOOD<br />(Disgraceful +BERNARD’S curate he):<br />He was extremely good.</p> +<p>A BAYARD in his moral pluck<br />Without reproach or fear,<br />A +quiet venerable duck<br />With fifty pounds a year.</p> +<p>No fault had he—no fad, except<br />A tendency to strum,<br />In +mode at which you would have wept,<br />A dull harmonium.</p> +<p>He had no gold with which to hire<br />The minstrels who could best<br />Convey +a notion of the fire<br />That raged within his breast.</p> +<p>And so, when COOTE and TINNEY’S Own<br />Had tootled all they +knew,<br />And when the Guards, completely blown,<br />Exhaustedly withdrew,</p> +<p>And NELL began to sleepy feel,<br />Poor AARON then would come,<br />And +underneath her window wheel<br />His plain harmonium.</p> +<p>He woke her every morn at two,<br />And having gained her ear,<br />In +vivid colours AARON drew<br />The sluggard’s grim career.</p> +<p>He warbled Apiarian praise,<br />And taught her in his chant<br />To +shun the dog’s pugnacious ways,<br />And imitate the ant.</p> +<p>Still NELL seemed not, how much he played,<br />To love him out and +out,<br />Although the admirable maid<br />Respected him, no doubt.</p> +<p>She told him of her early vow,<br />And said as BERNARD’S wife<br />It +might be hers to show him how<br />To rectify his life.</p> +<p>“You are so pure, so kind, so true,<br />Your goodness shines +so bright,<br />What use would ELLEN be to you?<br />Believe me, you’re +all right.”</p> +<p>She wished him happiness and health,<br />And flew on lightning wings<br />To +BERNARD with his dangerous wealth<br />And all the woes it brings.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>Ballad: Brave Alum Bey</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Oh, big was the bosom of brave ALUM BEY,<br />And also the region +that under it lay,<br />In safety and peril remarkably cool,<br />And +he dwelt on the banks of the river Stamboul.</p> +<p>Each morning he went to his garden, to cull<br />A bunch of zenana +or sprig of bul-bul,<br />And offered the bouquet, in exquisite bloom,<br />To +BACKSHEESH, the daughter of RAHAT LAKOUM.</p> +<p>No maiden like BACKSHEESH could tastily cook<br />A kettle of kismet +or joint of tchibouk,<br />As ALUM, brave fellow! sat pensively by,<br />With +a bright sympathetic ka-bob in his eye.</p> +<p>Stern duty compelled him to leave her one day—<br />(A ship’s +supercargo was brave ALUM BEY)—<br />To pretty young BACKSHEESH +he made a salaam,<br />And sailed to the isle of Seringapatam.</p> +<p>“O ALUM,” said she, “think again, ere you go—<br />Hareems +may arise and Moguls they may blow;<br />You may strike on a fez, or +be drowned, which is wuss!”<br />But ALUM embraced her and spoke +to her thus:</p> +<p>“Cease weeping, fair BACKSHEESH! I willingly swear<br />Cork +jackets and trousers I always will wear,<br />And I also throw in a +large number of oaths<br />That I never—no, <i>never</i>—will +take off my clothes!”</p> +<p>* * * * *</p> +<p>They left Madagascar away on their right,<br />And made Clapham Common +the following night,<br />Then lay on their oars for a fortnight or +two,<br />Becalmed in the ocean of Honololu.</p> +<p>One day ALUM saw, with alarm in his breast,<br />A cloud on the nor-sow-sow-nor-sow-nor-west;<br />The +wind it arose, and the crew gave a scream,<br />For they knew it—they +knew it!—the dreaded Hareem!!</p> +<p>The mast it went over, and so did the sails,<br />Brave ALUM threw +over his casks and his bales;<br />The billows arose as the weather +grew thick,<br />And all except ALUM were terribly sick.</p> +<p>The crew were but three, but they holloa’d for nine,<br />They +howled and they blubbered with wail and with whine:<br />The skipper +he fainted away in the fore,<br />For he hadn’t the heart for +to skip any more.</p> +<p>“Ho, coward!” said ALUM, “with heart of a child!<br />Thou +son of a party whose grave is defiled!<br />Is ALUM in terror? is ALUM +afeard?<br />Ho! ho! If you had one I’d laugh at your beard.”</p> +<p>His eyeball it gleamed like a furnace of coke;<br />He boldly inflated +his clothes as he spoke;<br />He daringly felt for the corks on his +chest,<br />And he recklessly tightened the belt at his breast.</p> +<p>For he knew, the brave ALUM, that, happen what might,<br />With belts +and cork-jacketing, <i>he</i> was all right;<br />Though others might +sink, he was certain to swim,—<br />No Hareem whatever had terrors +for him!</p> +<p>They begged him to spare from his personal store<br />A single cork +garment—they asked for no more;<br />But he couldn’t, because +of the number of oaths<br />That he never—no, never!—would +take off his clothes.</p> +<p>The billows dash o’er them and topple around,<br />They see +they are pretty near sure to be drowned.<br />A terrible wave o’er +the quarter-deck breaks,<br />And the vessel it sinks in a couple of +shakes!</p> +<p>The dreadful Hareem, though it knows how to blow,<br />Expends all +its strength in a minute or so;<br />When the vessel had foundered, +as I have detailed,<br />The tempest subsided, and quiet prevailed.</p> +<p>One seized on a cork with a yelling “Ha! ha!”<br />(Its +bottle had ’prisoned a pint of Pacha)—<br />Another a toothpick—another +a tray—<br />“Alas! it is useless!” said brave ALUM +BEY.</p> +<p>“To holloa and kick is a very bad plan:<br />Get it over, my +tulips, as soon as you can;<br />You’d better lay hold of a good +lump of lead,<br />And cling to it tightly until you are dead.</p> +<p>“Just raise your hands over your pretty heads—so—<br />Right +down to the bottom you’re certain to go.<br />Ta! ta! I’m +afraid we shall not meet again”—<br />For the truly courageous +are truly humane.</p> +<p>Brave ALUM was picked up the very next day—<br />A man-o’-war +sighted him smoking away;<br />With hunger and cold he was ready to +drop,<br />So they sent him below and they gave him a chop.</p> +<p>O reader, or readress, whichever you be,<br />You weep for the crew +who have sunk in the sea?<br />O reader, or readress, read farther, +and dry<br />The bright sympathetic ka-bob in your eye.</p> +<p>That ship had a grapple with three iron spikes,—<br />It’s +lowered, and, ha! on a something it strikes!<br />They haul it aboard +with a British “heave-ho!”<br />And what it has fished the +drawing will show.</p> +<p>There was WILSON, and PARKER, and TOMLINSON, too—<br />(The +first was the captain, the others the crew)—<br />As lively and +spry as a Malabar ape,<br />Quite pleased and surprised at their happy +escape.</p> +<p>And ALUM, brave fellow, who stood in the fore,<br />And never expected +to look on them more,<br />Was really delighted to see them again,<br />For +the truly courageous are truly humane.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>Ballad: Sir Barnaby Bampton Boo</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>This is SIR BARNABY BAMPTON BOO,<br />Last of a noble race,<br />BARNABY +BAMPTON, coming to woo,<br />All at a deuce of a pace.<br />BARNABY +BAMPTON BOO,<br />Here is a health to you:<br />Here is wishing you +luck, you elderly buck—<br />BARNABY BAMPTON BOO!</p> +<p>The excellent women of Tuptonvee<br />Knew SIR BARNABY BOO;<br />One +of them surely his bride would be,<br />But dickens a soul knew who.<br />Women +of Tuptonvee,<br />Here is a health to ye<br />For a Baronet, dears, +you would cut off your ears,<br />Women of Tuptonvee!</p> +<p>Here are old MR. and MRS. DE PLOW<br />(PETER his Christian name),<br />They +kept seven oxen, a pig, and a cow—<br />Farming it was their game.<br />Worthy +old PETER DE PLOW,<br />Here is a health to thou:<br />Your race isn’t +run, though you’re seventy-one,<br />Worthy old PETER DE PLOW!</p> +<p>To excellent MR. and MRS. DE PLOW<br />Came SIR BARNABY BOO,<br />He +asked for their daughter, and told ’em as how<br />He was as rich +as a Jew.<br />BARNABY BAMPTON’S wealth,<br />Here is your jolly +good health:<br />I’d never repine if you came to be mine,<br />BARNABY +BAMPTON’S wealth!</p> +<p>“O great SIR BARNABY BAMPTON BOO”<br />(Said PLOW to +that titled swell),<br />“My missus has given me daughters two—<br />AMELIA +and VOLATILE NELL!”<br />AMELIA and VOLATILE NELL,<br />I hope +you’re uncommonly well:<br />You two pretty pearls—you extremely +nice girls—<br />AMELIA and VOLATILE NELL!</p> +<p>“AMELIA is passable only, in face,<br />But, oh! she’s +a worthy girl;<br />Superior morals like hers would grace<br />The home +of a belted Earl.”<br />Morality, heavenly link!<br />To you I’ll +eternally drink:<br />I’m awfully fond of that heavenly bond,<br />Morality, +heavenly link!</p> +<p>“Now NELLY’S the prettier, p’raps, of my gals,<br />But, +oh! she’s a wayward chit;<br />She dresses herself in her showy +fal-lals,<br />And doesn’t read TUPPER a bit!”<br />O TUPPER, +philosopher true,<br />How do you happen to do?<br />A publisher looks +with respect on your books,<br />For they <i>do</i> sell, philosopher +true!</p> +<p>The Bart. (I’ll be hanged if I drink him again,<br />Or +care if he’s ill or well),<br />He sneered at the goodness of +MILLY THE PLAIN,<br />And cottoned to VOLATILE NELL!<br />O VOLATILE +NELLY DE P.!<br />Be hanged if I’ll empty to thee:<br />I like +worthy maids, not mere frivolous jades,<br />VOLATILE NELLY DE P.!</p> +<p>They bolted, the Bart. and his frivolous dear,<br />And MILLY was +left to pout;<br />For years they’ve got on very well, as I hear,<br />But +soon he will rue it, no doubt.<br />O excellent MILLY DE PLOW,<br />I +really can’t drink to you now;<br />My head isn’t strong, +and the song has been long,<br />Excellent MILLY DE PLOW!</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>Ballad: The Modest Couple</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>When man and maiden meet, I like to see a drooping eye,<br />I always +droop my own—I am the shyest of the shy.<br />I’m also fond +of bashfulness, and sitting down on thorns,<br />For modesty’s +a quality that womankind adorns.</p> +<p>Whenever I am introduced to any pretty maid,<br />My knees they knock +together, just as if I were afraid;<br />I flutter, and I stammer, and +I turn a pleasing red,<br />For to laugh, and flirt, and ogle I consider +most ill-bred.</p> +<p>But still in all these matters, as in other things below,<br />There +is a proper medium, as I’m about to show.<br />I do not recommend +a newly-married pair to try<br />To carry on as PETER carried on with +SARAH BLIGH.</p> +<p>Betrothed they were when very young—before they’d learnt +to speak<br />(For SARAH was but six days old, and PETER was a week);<br />Though +little more than babies at those early ages, yet<br />They bashfully +would faint when they occasionally met.</p> +<p>They blushed, and flushed, and fainted, till they reached the age +of nine,<br />When PETER’S good papa (he was a Baron of the Rhine)<br />Determined +to endeavour some sound argument to find<br />To bring these shy young +people to a proper frame of mind.</p> +<p>He told them that as SARAH was to be his PETER’S bride,<br />They +might at least consent to sit at table side by side;<br />He begged +that they would now and then shake hands, till he was hoarse,<br />Which +SARAH thought indelicate, and PETER very coarse.</p> +<p>And PETER in a tremble to the blushing maid would say,<br />“You +must excuse papa, MISS BLIGH,—it is his mountain way.”<br />Says +SARAH, “His behaviour I’ll endeavour to forget,<br />But +your papa’s the coarsest person that I ever met.</p> +<p>“He plighted us without our leave, when we were very young,<br />Before +we had begun articulating with the tongue.<br />His underbred suggestions +fill your SARAH with alarm;<br />Why, gracious me! he’ll ask us +next to walk out arm-in-arm!”</p> +<p>At length when SARAH reached the legal age of twenty-one,<br />The +Baron he determined to unite her to his son;<br />And SARAH in a fainting-fit +for weeks unconscious lay,<br />And PETER blushed so hard you might +have heard him miles away.</p> +<p>And when the time arrived for taking SARAH to his heart,<br />They +were married in two churches half-a-dozen miles apart<br />(Intending +to escape all public ridicule and chaff),<br />And the service was conducted +by electric telegraph.</p> +<p>And when it was concluded, and the priest had said his say,<br />Until +the time arrived when they were both to drive away,<br />They never +spoke or offered for to fondle or to fawn,<br />For <i>he</i> waited +in the attic, and <i>she</i> waited on the lawn.</p> +<p>At length, when four o’clock arrived, and it was time to go,<br />The +carriage was announced, but decent SARAH answered “No!<br />Upon +my word, I’d rather sleep my everlasting nap,<br />Than go and +ride alone with MR. PETER in a trap.”</p> +<p>And PETER’S over-sensitive and highly-polished mind<br />Wouldn’t +suffer him to sanction a proceeding of the kind;<br />And further, he +declared he suffered overwhelming shocks<br />At the bare idea of having +any coachman on the box.</p> +<p>So PETER into one turn-out incontinently rushed,<br />While SARAH +in a second trap sat modestly and blushed;<br />And MR. NEWMAN’S +coachman, on authority I’ve heard,<br />Drove away in gallant +style upon the coach-box of a third.</p> +<p>Now, though this modest couple in the matter of the car<br />Were +very likely carrying a principle too far,<br />I hold their shy behaviour +was more laudable in them<br />Than that of PETER’S brother with +MISS SARAH’S sister EM.</p> +<p>ALPHONSO, who in cool assurance all creation licks,<br />He up and +said to EMMIE (who had impudence for six),<br />“MISS EMILY, I +love you—will you marry? Say the word!”<br />And EMILY +said, “Certainly, ALPHONSO, like a bird!”</p> +<p>I do not recommend a newly-married pair to try<br />To carry on as +PETER carried on with SARAH BLIGH,<br />But still their shy behaviour +was more laudable in them<br />Than that of PETER’S brother with +MISS SARAH’S sister EM.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>Ballad: The Martinet</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Some time ago, in simple verse<br />I sang the story true<br />Of +CAPTAIN REECE, the <i>Mantelpiece,<br /></i>And all her happy crew.</p> +<p>I showed how any captain may<br />Attach his men to him,<br />If +he but heeds their smallest needs,<br />And studies every whim.</p> +<p>Now mark how, by Draconic rule<br />And <i>hauteur</i> ill-advised,<br />The +noblest crew upon the Blue<br />May be demoralized.</p> +<p>When his ungrateful country placed<br />Kind REECE upon half-pay,<br />Without +much claim SIR BERKELY came,<br />And took command one day.</p> +<p>SIR BERKELY was a martinet—<br />A stern unyielding soul—<br />Who +ruled his ship by dint of whip<br />And horrible black-hole.</p> +<p>A sailor who was overcome<br />From having freely dined,<br />And +chanced to reel when at the wheel,<br />He instantly confined!</p> +<p>And tars who, when an action raged,<br />Appeared alarmed or scared,<br />And +those below who wished to go,<br />He very seldom spared.</p> +<p>E’en he who smote his officer<br />For punishment was booked,<br />And +mutinies upon the seas<br />He rarely overlooked.</p> +<p>In short, the happy <i>Mantelpiece</i>,<br />Where all had gone so +well,<br />Beneath that fool SIR BERKELY’S rule<br />Became a +floating hell.</p> +<p>When first SIR BERKELY came aboard<br />He read a speech to all,<br />And +told them how he’d made a vow<br />To act on duty’s call.</p> +<p>Then WILLIAM LEE, he up and said<br />(The Captain’s coxswain +he),<br />“We’ve heard the speech your honour’s made,<br />And +werry pleased we be.</p> +<p>“We won’t pretend, my lad, as how<br />We’re glad +to lose our REECE;<br />Urbane, polite, he suited quite<br />The saucy +<i>Mantelpiece.</i></p> +<p>“But if your honour gives your mind<br />To study all our ways,<br />With +dance and song we’ll jog along<br />As in those happy days.</p> +<p>“I like your honour’s looks, and feel<br />You’re +worthy of your sword.<br />Your hand, my lad—I’m doosid +glad<br />To welcome you aboard!”</p> +<p>SIR BERKELY looked amazed, as though<br />He didn’t understand.<br />“Don’t +shake your head,” good WILLIAM said,<br />“It is an honest +hand.</p> +<p>“It’s grasped a better hand than yourn—<br />Come, +gov’nor, I insist!”<br />The Captain stared—the coxswain +glared—<br />The hand became a fist!</p> +<p>“Down, upstart!” said the hardy salt;<br />But BERKELY +dodged his aim,<br />And made him go in chains below:<br />The seamen +murmured “Shame!”</p> +<p>He stopped all songs at 12 p.m.,<br />Stopped hornpipes when at sea,<br />And +swore his cot (or bunk) should not<br />Be used by aught than he.</p> +<p>He never joined their daily mess,<br />Nor asked them to his own,<br />But +chaffed in gay and social way<br />The officers alone.</p> +<p>His First Lieutenant, PETER, was<br />As useless as could be,<br />A +helpless stick, and always sick<br />When there was any sea.</p> +<p>This First Lieutenant proved to be<br />His foster-sister MAY,<br />Who +went to sea for love of he<br />In masculine array.</p> +<p>And when he learnt the curious fact,<br />Did he emotion show,<br />Or +dry her tears or end her fears<br />By marrying her? No!</p> +<p>Or did he even try to soothe<br />This maiden in her teens?<br />Oh, +no!—instead he made her wed<br />The Sergeant of Marines!</p> +<p>Of course such Spartan discipline<br />Would make an angel fret;<br />They +drew a lot, and WILLIAM shot<br />This fearful martinet.</p> +<p>The Admiralty saw how ill<br />They’d treated CAPTAIN REECE;<br />He +was restored once more aboard<br />The saucy <i>Mantelpiece.</i></p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>Ballad: The Sailor Boy To His Lass</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>I go away this blessed day,<br />To sail across the sea, MATILDA!<br />My +vessel starts for various parts<br />At twenty after three, MATILDA.<br />I +hardly know where we may go,<br />Or if it’s near or far, MATILDA,<br />For +CAPTAIN HYDE does not confide<br />In any ’fore-mast tar, MATILDA!</p> +<p>Beneath my ban that mystic man<br />Shall suffer, <i>coûte +qui coûte</i>, MATILDA!<br />What right has he to keep from me<br />The +Admiralty route, MATILDA?<br />Because, forsooth! I am a youth<br />Of +common sailors’ lot, MATILDA!<br />Am I a man on human plan<br />Designed, +or am I not, MATILDA?</p> +<p>But there, my lass, we’ll let that pass!<br />With anxious +love I burn, MATILDA.<br />I want to know if we shall go<br />To church +when I return, MATILDA?<br />Your eyes are red, you bow your head;<br />It’s +pretty clear you thirst, MATILDA,<br />To name the day—What’s +that you say?<br />- “You’ll see me further first,” +MATILDA?</p> +<p>I can’t mistake the signs you make,<br />Although you barely +speak, MATILDA;<br />Though pure and young, you thrust your tongue<br />Right +in your pretty cheek, MATILDA!<br />My dear, I fear I hear you sneer—<br />I +do—I’m sure I do, MATILDA!<br />With simple grace you make +a face,<br />Ejaculating, “Ugh!” MATILDA.</p> +<p>Oh, pause to think before you drink<br />The dregs of Lethe’s +cup, MATILDA!<br />Remember, do, what I’ve gone through,<br />Before +you give me up, MATILDA!<br />Recall again the mental pain<br />Of what +I’ve had to do, MATILDA!<br />And be assured that I’ve endured<br />It, +all along of you, MATILDA!</p> +<p>Do you forget, my blithesome pet,<br />How once with jealous rage, +MATILDA,<br />I watched you walk and gaily talk<br />With some one thrice +your age, MATILDA?<br />You squatted free upon his knee,<br />A sight +that made me sad, MATILDA!<br />You pinched his cheek with friendly +tweak,<br />Which almost drove me mad, MATILDA!</p> +<p>I knew him not, but hoped to spot<br />Some man you thought to wed, +MATILDA!<br />I took a gun, my darling one,<br />And shot him through +the head, MATILDA!<br />I’m made of stuff that’s rough and +gruff<br />Enough, I own; but, ah, MATILDA!<br />It <i>did</i> annoy +your sailor boy<br />To find it was your pa, MATILDA!</p> +<p>I’ve passed a life of toil and strife,<br />And disappointments +deep, MATILDA;<br />I’ve lain awake with dental ache<br />Until +I fell asleep, MATILDA!<br />At times again I’ve missed a train,<br />Or +p’rhaps run short of tin, MATILDA,<br />And worn a boot on corns +that shoot,<br />Or, shaving, cut my chin, MATILDA.</p> +<p>But, oh! no trains—no dental pains—<br />Believe me when +I say, MATILDA,<br />No corns that shoot—no pinching boot<br />Upon +a summer day, MATILDA—<br />It’s my belief, could cause +such grief<br />As that I’ve suffered for, MATILDA,<br />My having +shot in vital spot<br />Your old progenitor, MATILDA.</p> +<p>Bethink you how I’ve kept the vow<br />I made one winter day, +MATILDA—<br />That, come what could, I never would<br />Remain +too long away, MATILDA.<br />And, oh! the crimes with which, at times,<br />I’ve +charged my gentle mind, MATILDA,<br />To keep the vow I made—and +now<br />You treat me so unkind, MATILDA!</p> +<p>For when at sea, off Caribbee,<br />I felt my passion burn, MATILDA,<br />By +passion egged, I went and begged<br />The captain to return, MATILDA.<br />And +when, my pet, I couldn’t get<br />That captain to agree, MATILDA,<br />Right +through a sort of open port<br />I pitched him in the sea, MATILDA!</p> +<p>Remember, too, how all the crew<br />With indignation blind, MATILDA,<br />Distinctly +swore they ne’er before<br />Had thought me so unkind, MATILDA.<br />And +how they’d shun me one by one—<br />An unforgiving group, +MATILDA—<br />I stopped their howls and sulky scowls<br />By pizening +their soup, MATILDA!</p> +<p>So pause to think, before you drink<br />The dregs of Lethe’s +cup, MATILDA;<br />Remember, do, what I’ve gone through,<br />Before +you give me up, MATILDA.<br />Recall again the mental pain<br />Of what +I’ve had to do, MATILDA,<br />And be assured that I’ve endured<br />It, +all along of you, MATILDA!</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>Ballad: The Reverend Simon Magus</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>A rich advowson, highly prized,<br />For private sale was advertised;<br />And +many a parson made a bid;<br />The REVEREND SIMON MAGUS did.</p> +<p>He sought the agent’s: “Agent, I<br />Have come prepared +at once to buy<br />(If your demand is not too big)<br />The Cure of +Otium-cum-Digge.”</p> +<p>“Ah!” said the agent, “<i>there’s</i> a berth—<br />The +snuggest vicarage on earth;<br />No sort of duty (so I hear),<br />And +fifteen hundred pounds a year!</p> +<p>“If on the price we should agree,<br />The living soon will +vacant be;<br />The good incumbent’s ninety five,<br />And cannot +very long survive.</p> +<p>See—here’s his photograph—you see,<br />He’s +in his dotage.” “Ah, dear me!<br />Poor soul!” +said SIMON. “His decease<br />Would be a merciful release!”</p> +<p>The agent laughed—the agent blinked—<br />The agent blew +his nose and winked—<br />And poked the parson’s ribs in +play—<br />It was that agent’s vulgar way.</p> +<p>The REVEREND SIMON frowned: “I grieve<br />This light demeanour +to perceive;<br />It’s scarcely <i>comme il</i> <i>faut</i>, I +think:<br />Now—pray oblige me—do not wink.</p> +<p>“Don’t dig my waistcoat into holes—<br />Your mission +is to sell the souls<br />Of human sheep and human kids<br />To that +divine who highest bids.</p> +<p>“Do well in this, and on your head<br />Unnumbered honours +will be shed.”<br />The agent said, “Well, truth to tell,<br />I +<i>have</i> been doing very well.”</p> +<p>“You should,” said SIMON, “at your age;<br />But +now about the parsonage.<br />How many rooms does it contain?<br />Show +me the photograph again.</p> +<p>“A poor apostle’s humble house<br />Must not be too luxurious;<br />No +stately halls with oaken floor—<br />It should be decent and no +more.</p> +<p>“ No billiard-rooms—no stately trees—<br />No croquêt-grounds +or pineries.”<br />“Ah!” sighed the agent, “very +true:<br />This property won’t do for you.”</p> +<p>“All these about the house you’ll find.”—<br />“Well,” +said the parson, “never mind;<br />I’ll manage to submit +to these<br />Luxurious superfluities.</p> +<p>“A clergyman who does not shirk<br />The various calls of Christian +work,<br />Will have no leisure to employ<br />These ‘common forms’ +of worldly joy.</p> +<p>“To preach three times on Sabbath days—<br />To wean +the lost from wicked ways—<br />The sick to soothe—the sane +to wed—<br />The poor to feed with meat and bread;</p> +<p> “These are the various wholesome ways<br />In which I’ll +spend my nights and days:<br />My zeal will have no time to cool<br />At +croquet, archery, or pool.”</p> +<p>The agent said, “From what I hear,<br />This living will not +suit, I fear—<br />There are no poor, no sick at all;<br />For +services there is no call.”</p> +<p>The reverend gent looked grave, “Dear me!<br />Then there is +<i>no</i> ‘society’?—<br />I mean, of course, no sinners +there<br />Whose souls will be my special care?”</p> +<p>The cunning agent shook his head,<br />“No, none—except”—(the +agent said)—<br />“The DUKE OF A., the EARL OF B.,<br />The +MARQUIS C., and VISCOUNT D.</p> +<p>“But you will not be quite alone,<br />For though they’ve +chaplains of their own,<br />Of course this noble well-bred clan<br />Receive +the parish clergyman.”</p> +<p>“Oh, silence, sir!” said SIMON M.,<br />“Dukes—Earls! +What should I care for them?<br />These worldly ranks I scorn and flout!”<br />“Of +course,” the agent said, “no doubt!”</p> +<p>“Yet I might show these men of birth<br />The hollowness of +rank on earth.”<br />The agent answered, “Very true—<br />But +I should not, if I were you.”</p> +<p>“Who sells this rich advowson, pray?”<br />The agent +winked—it was his way—<br />“His name is HART; ’twixt +me and you,<br />He is, I’m grieved to say, a Jew!”</p> +<p>“A Jew?” said SIMON, “happy find!<br />I purchase +this advowson, mind.<br />My life shall be devoted to<br />Converting +that unhappy Jew!”</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>Ballad: Damon v. Pythias</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Two better friends you wouldn’t pass<br />Throughout a summer’s +day,<br />Than DAMON and his PYTHIAS,—<br />Two merchant princes +they.</p> +<p>At school together they contrived<br />All sorts of boyish larks;<br />And, +later on, together thrived<br />As merry merchants’ clerks.</p> +<p>And then, when many years had flown,<br />They rose together till<br />They +bought a business of their own—<br />And they conduct it still.</p> +<p>They loved each other all their lives,<br />Dissent they never knew,<br />And, +stranger still, their very wives<br />Were rather friendly too.</p> +<p>Perhaps you think, to serve my ends,<br />These statements I refute,<br />When +I admit that these dear friends<br />Were parties to a suit?</p> +<p>But ’twas a friendly action, for<br />Good PYTHIAS, as you +see,<br />Fought merely as executor,<br />And DAMON as trustee.</p> +<p>They laughed to think, as through the throng<br />Of suitors sad +they passed,<br />That they, who’d lived and loved so long,<br />Should +go to law at last.</p> +<p>The junior briefs they kindly let<br />Two sucking counsel hold;<br />These +learned persons never yet<br />Had fingered suitors’ gold.</p> +<p>But though the happy suitors two<br />Were friendly as could be,<br />Not +so the junior counsel who<br />Were earning maiden fee.</p> +<p>They too, till then, were friends. At school<br />They’d +done each other’s sums,<br />And under Oxford’s gentle rule<br />Had +been the closest chums.</p> +<p>But now they met with scowl and grin<br />In every public place,<br />And +often snapped their fingers in<br />Each other’s learned face.</p> +<p>It almost ended in a fight<br />When they on path or stair<br />Met +face to face. They made it quite<br />A personal affair.</p> +<p>And when at length the case was called<br />(It came on rather late),<br />Spectators +really were appalled<br />To see their deadly hate.</p> +<p>One junior rose—with eyeballs tense,<br />And swollen frontal +veins:<br />To all his powers of eloquence<br />He gave the fullest +reins.</p> +<p>His argument was novel—for<br />A verdict he relied<br />On +blackening the junior<br />Upon the other side.</p> +<p>“Oh,” said the Judge, in robe and fur,<br />“The +matter in dispute<br />To arbitration pray refer—<br />This is +a friendly suit.”</p> +<p>And PYTHIAS, in merry mood,<br />Digged DAMON in the side;<br />And +DAMON, tickled with the feud,<br />With other digs replied.</p> +<p>But oh! those deadly counsel twain,<br />Who were such friends before,<br />Were +never reconciled again—<br />They quarrelled more and more.</p> +<p>At length it happened that they met<br />On Alpine heights one day,<br />And +thus they paid each one his debt,<br />Their fury had its way—</p> +<p>They seized each other in a trice,<br />With scorn and hatred filled,<br />And, +falling from a precipice,<br />They, both of them, were killed.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>Ballad: My Dream</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>The other night, from cares exempt,<br />I slept—and what d’you +think I dreamt?<br />I dreamt that somehow I had come<br />To dwell +in Topsy-Turveydom—</p> +<p>Where vice is virtue—virtue, vice:<br />Where nice is nasty—nasty, +nice:<br />Where right is wrong and wrong is right—<br />Where +white is black and black is white.</p> +<p>Where babies, much to their surprise,<br />Are born astonishingly +wise;<br />With every Science on their lips,<br />And Art at all their +finger-tips.</p> +<p>For, as their nurses dandle them<br />They crow binomial theorem,<br />With +views (it seems absurd to us)<br />On differential calculus.</p> +<p>But though a babe, as I have said,<br />Is born with learning in +his head,<br />He must forget it, if he can,<br />Before he calls himself +a man.</p> +<p>For that which we call folly here,<br />Is wisdom in that favoured +sphere;<br />The wisdom we so highly prize<br />Is blatant folly in +their eyes.</p> +<p>A boy, if he would push his way,<br />Must learn some nonsense every +day;<br />And cut, to carry out this view,<br />His wisdom teeth and +wisdom too.</p> +<p>Historians burn their midnight oils,<br />Intent on giant-killers’ +toils;<br />And sages close their aged eyes<br />To other sages’ +lullabies.</p> +<p>Our magistrates, in duty bound,<br />Commit all robbers who are found;<br />But +there the Beaks (so people said)<br />Commit all robberies instead.</p> +<p>Our Judges, pure and wise in tone,<br />Know crime from theory alone,<br />And +glean the motives of a thief<br />From books and popular belief.</p> +<p>But there, a Judge who wants to prime<br />His mind with true ideas +of crime,<br />Derives them from the common sense<br />Of practical +experience.</p> +<p>Policemen march all folks away<br />Who practise virtue every day—<br />Of +course, I mean to say, you know,<br />What we call virtue here below.</p> +<p>For only scoundrels dare to do<br />What we consider just and true,<br />And +only good men do, in fact,<br />What we should think a dirty act.</p> +<p>But strangest of these social twirls,<br />The girls are boys—the +boys are girls!<br />The men are women, too—but then,<br /><i>Per +contra</i>, women all are men.</p> +<p>To one who to tradition clings<br />This seems an awkward state of +things,<br />But if to think it out you try,<br />It doesn’t really +signify.</p> +<p>With them, as surely as can be,<br />A sailor should be sick at sea,<br />And +not a passenger may sail<br />Who cannot smoke right through a gale.</p> +<p>A soldier (save by rarest luck)<br />Is always shot for showing pluck<br />(That +is, if others can be found<br />With pluck enough to fire a round).</p> +<p>“How strange!” I said to one I saw;<br />“You quite +upset our every law.<br />However can you get along<br />So systematically +wrong?”</p> +<p>“Dear me!” my mad informant said,<br />“Have you +no eyes within your head?<br />You sneer when you your hat should doff:<br />Why, +we begin where you leave off!</p> +<p>“Your wisest men are very far<br />Less learned than our babies +are!”<br />I mused awhile—and then, oh me!<br />I framed +this brilliant repartee:</p> +<p>“Although your babes are wiser far<br />Than our most valued +sages are,<br />Your sages, with their toys and cots,<br />Are duller +than our idiots!”</p> +<p>But this remark, I grieve to state,<br />Came just a little bit too +late<br />For as I framed it in my head,<br />I woke and found myself +in bed.</p> +<p>Still I could wish that, ’stead of here,<br />My lot were in +that favoured sphere!—<br />Where greatest fools bear off the +bell<br />I ought to do extremely well.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>Ballad: The Bishop Of Rum-Ti-Foo Again</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>I often wonder whether you<br />Think sometimes of that Bishop, who<br />From +black but balmy Rum-ti-Foo<br />Last summer twelvemonth came.<br />Unto +your mind I p’r’aps may bring<br />Remembrance of the man +I sing<br />To-day, by simply mentioning<br />That PETER was his name.</p> +<p>Remember how that holy man<br />Came with the great Colonial clan<br />To +Synod, called Pan-Anglican;<br />And kindly recollect<br />How, having +crossed the ocean wide,<br />To please his flock all means he tried<br />Consistent +with a proper pride<br />And manly self-respect.</p> +<p>He only, of the reverend pack<br />Who minister to Christians black,<br />Brought +any useful knowledge back<br />To his Colonial fold.<br />In consequence +a place I claim<br />For “PETER” on the scroll of Fame<br />(For +PETER was that Bishop’s name,<br />As I’ve already told).</p> +<p>He carried Art, he often said,<br />To places where that timid maid<br />(Save +by Colonial Bishops’ aid)<br />Could never hope to roam.<br />The +Payne-cum-Lauri feat he taught<br />As he had learnt it; for he thought<br />The +choicest fruits of Progress ought<br />To bless the Negro’s home.</p> +<p>And he had other work to do,<br />For, while he tossed upon the Blue,<br />The +islanders of Rum-ti-Foo<br />Forgot their kindly friend.<br />Their +decent clothes they learnt to tear—<br />They learnt to say, “I +do not care,”<br />Though they, of course, were well aware<br />How +folks, who say so, end.</p> +<p>Some sailors, whom he did not know,<br />Had landed there not long +ago,<br />And taught them “Bother!” also, “Blow!”<br />(Of +wickedness the germs).<br />No need to use a casuist’s pen<br />To +prove that they were merchantmen;<br />No sailor of the Royal N.<br />Would +use such awful terms.</p> +<p>And so, when BISHOP PETER came<br />(That was the kindly Bishop’s +name),<br />He heard these dreadful oaths with shame,<br />And chid +their want of dress.<br />(Except a shell—a bangle rare—<br />A +feather here—a feather there<br />The South Pacific Negroes wear<br />Their +native nothingness.)</p> +<p>He taught them that a Bishop loathes<br />To listen to disgraceful +oaths,<br />He gave them all his left-off clothes—<br />They bent +them to his will.<br />The Bishop’s gift spreads quickly round;<br />In +PETER’S left-off clothes they bound<br />(His three-and-twenty +suits they found<br />In fair condition still).</p> +<p>The Bishop’s eyes with water fill,<br />Quite overjoyed to +find them still<br />Obedient to his sovereign will,<br />And said, +“Good Rum-ti-Foo!<br />Half-way I’ll meet you, I declare:<br />I’ll +dress myself in cowries rare,<br />And fasten feathers in my hair,<br />And +dance the ‘Cutch-chi-boo!’” <a name="citation11"></a><a href="#footnote11">{11}</a></p> +<p>And to conciliate his See<br />He married PICCADILLILLEE,<br />The +youngest of his twenty-three,<br />Tall—neither fat nor thin.<br />(And +though the dress he made her don<br />Looks awkwardly a girl upon,<br />It +was a great improvement on<br />The one he found her in.)</p> +<p>The Bishop in his gay canoe<br />(His wife, of course, went with +him too)<br />To some adjacent island flew,<br />To spend his honeymoon.<br />Some +day in sunny Rum-ti-Foo<br />A little PETER’ll be on view;<br />And +that (if people tell me true)<br />Is like to happen soon.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>Ballad: A Worm Will Turn</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>I love a man who’ll smile and joke<br />When with misfortune +crowned;<br />Who’ll pun beneath a pauper’s yoke,<br />And +as he breaks his daily toke,<br />Conundrums gay propound.</p> +<p>Just such a man was BERNARD JUPP,<br />He scoffed at Fortune’s +frown;<br />He gaily drained his bitter cup—<br />Though Fortune +often threw him up,<br />It never cast him down.</p> +<p>Though years their share of sorrow bring,<br />We know that far above<br />All +other griefs, are griefs that spring<br />From some misfortune happening<br />To +those we really love.</p> +<p>E’en sorrow for another’s woe<br />Our BERNARD failed +to quell;<br />Though by this special form of blow<br />No person ever +suffered so,<br />Or bore his grief so well.</p> +<p>His father, wealthy and well clad,<br />And owning house and park,<br />Lost +every halfpenny he had,<br />And then became (extremely sad!)<br />A +poor attorney’s clerk.</p> +<p>All sons it surely would appal,<br />Except the passing meek,<br />To +see a father lose his all,<br />And from an independence fall<br />To +one pound ten a week!</p> +<p>But JUPP shook off this sorrow’s weight,<br />And, like a Christian +son,<br />Proved Poverty a happy fate—<br />Proved Wealth to be +a devil’s bait,<br />To lure poor sinners on.</p> +<p>With other sorrows BERNARD coped,<br />For sorrows came in packs;<br />His +cousins with their housemaids sloped—<br />His uncles forged—his +aunts eloped—<br />His sisters married blacks.</p> +<p>But BERNARD, far from murmuring<br />(Exemplar, friends, to us),<br />Determined +to his faith to cling,—<br />He made the best of everything,<br />And +argued softly thus:</p> +<p>“’Twere harsh my uncles’ forging knack<br />Too +rudely to condemn—<br />My aunts, repentant, may come back,<br />And +blacks are nothing like as black<br />As people colour them!”</p> +<p>Still Fate, with many a sorrow rife,<br />Maintained relentless fight:<br />His +grandmamma next lost her life,<br />Then died the mother of his wife,<br />But +still he seemed all right.</p> +<p>His brother fond (the only link<br />To life that bound him now)<br />One +morning, overcome by drink,<br />He broke his leg (the right, I think)<br />In +some disgraceful row.</p> +<p>But did my BERNARD swear and curse?<br />Oh no—to murmur loth,<br />He +only said, “Go, get a nurse:<br />Be thankful that it isn’t +worse;<br />You might have broken both!”</p> +<p>But worms who watch without concern<br />The cockchafer on thorns,<br />Or +beetles smashed, themselves will turn<br />If, walking through the slippery +fern,<br />You tread upon their corns.</p> +<p>One night as BERNARD made his track<br />Through Brompton home to +bed,<br />A footpad, with a vizor black,<br />Took watch and purse, +and dealt a crack<br />On BERNARD’S saint-like head.</p> +<p>It was too much—his spirit rose,<br />He looked extremely cross.<br />Men +thought him steeled to mortal foes,<br />But no—he bowed to countless +blows,<br />But kicked against this loss.</p> +<p>He finally made up his mind<br />Upon his friends to call;<br />Subscription +lists were largely signed,<br />For men were really glad to find<br />Him +mortal, after all!</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>Ballad: The Haughty Actor</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>An actor—GIBBS, of Drury Lane—<br />Of very decent station,<br />Once +happened in a part to gain<br />Excessive approbation:<br />It sometimes +turns a fellow’s brain<br />And makes him singularly vain<br />When +he believes that he receives<br />Tremendous approbation.</p> +<p>His great success half drove him mad,<br />But no one seemed to mind +him;<br />Well, in another piece he had<br />Another part assigned him.<br />This +part was smaller, by a bit,<br />Than that in which he made a hit.<br />So, +much ill-used, he straight refused<br />To play the part assigned him.</p> +<p>* * * * * * * *</p> +<p><i>That night that actor slept, and I’ll attempt<br />To tell +you of the vivid dream he dreamt.</i></p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>THE DREAM.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>In fighting with a robber band<br />(A thing he loved sincerely)<br />A +sword struck GIBBS upon the hand,<br />And wounded it severely.<br />At +first he didn’t heed it much,<br />He thought it was a simple +touch,<br />But soon he found the weapon’s bound<br />Had wounded +him severely.</p> +<p>To Surgeon COBB he made a trip,<br />Who’d just effected featly<br />An +amputation at the hip<br />Particularly neatly.<br />A rising man was +Surgeon COBB<br />But this extremely ticklish job<br />He had achieved +(as he believed)<br />Particularly neatly.</p> +<p>The actor rang the surgeon’s bell.<br />“Observe my wounded +finger,<br />Be good enough to strap it well,<br />And prithee do not +linger.<br />That I, dear sir, may fill again<br />The Theatre Royal +Drury Lane:<br />This very night I have to fight—<br />So prithee +do not linger.”</p> +<p>“I don’t strap fingers up for doles,”<br />Replied +the haughty surgeon;<br />“To use your cant, I don’t play +<i>rôles<br /></i>Utility that verge on.<br />First amputation—nothing +less—<br />That is my line of business:<br />We surgeon nobs despise +all jobs<br />Utility that verge on</p> +<p>“When in your hip there lurks disease”<br />(So dreamt +this lively dreamer),<br />“Or devastating <i>caries<br /></i>In +<i>humerus</i> or <i>femur,<br /></i>If you can pay a handsome fee,<br />Oh, +then you may remember me—<br />With joy elate I’ll amputate<br />Your +<i>humerus</i> or <i>femur</i>.”</p> +<p>The disconcerted actor ceased<br />The haughty leech to pester,<br />But +when the wound in size increased,<br />And then began to fester,<br />He +sought a learned Counsel’s lair,<br />And told that Counsel, then +and there,<br />How COBB’S neglect of his defect<br />Had made +his finger fester.</p> +<p>“Oh, bring my action, if you please,<br />The case I pray you +urge on,<br />And win me thumping damages<br />From COBB, that haughty +surgeon.<br />He culpably neglected me<br />Although I proffered him +his fee,<br />So pray come down, in wig and gown,<br />On COBB, that +haughty surgeon!”</p> +<p>That Counsel learned in the laws,<br />With passion almost trembled.<br />He +just had gained a mighty cause<br />Before the Peers assembled!<br />Said +he, “How dare you have the face<br />To come with Common Jury +case<br />To one who wings rhetoric flings<br />Before the Peers assembled?”</p> +<p>Dispirited became our friend—<br />Depressed his moral pecker—<br />“But +stay! a thought!—I’ll gain my end,<br />And save my poor +exchequer.<br />I won’t be placed upon the shelf,<br />I’ll +take it into Court myself,<br />And legal lore display before<br />The +Court of the Exchequer.”</p> +<p>He found a Baron—one of those<br />Who with our laws supply +us—<br />In wig and silken gown and hose,<br />As if at <i>Nisi +Prius.<br /></i>But he’d just given, off the reel,<br />A famous +judgment on Appeal:<br />It scarce became his heightened fame<br />To +sit at <i>Nisi Prius.</i></p> +<p>Our friend began, with easy wit,<br />That half concealed his terror:<br />“Pooh!” +said the Judge, “I only sit<br />In <i>Banco</i> or in Error.<br />Can +you suppose, my man, that I’d<br />O’er <i>Nisi Prius</i> +Courts preside,<br />Or condescend my time to spend<br />On anything +but Error?”</p> +<p>“Too bad,” said GIBBS, “my case to shirk!<br />You +must be bad innately,<br />To save your skill for mighty work<br />Because +it’s valued greatly!”<br />But here he woke, with sudden +start.</p> +<p>* * * * * * * *</p> +<p>He wrote to say he’d play the part.<br />I’ve but to +tell he played it well—<br />The author’s words—his +native wit<br />Combined, achieved a perfect “hit”—<br />The +papers praised him greatly.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>Ballad: The Two Majors</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>An excellent soldier who’s worthy the name<br />Loves officers +dashing and strict:<br />When good, he’s content with escaping +all blame,<br />When naughty, he likes to be licked.</p> +<p>He likes for a fault to be bullied and stormed,<br />Or imprisoned +for several days,<br />And hates, for a duty correctly performed,<br />To +be slavered with sickening praise.</p> +<p>No officer sickened with praises his <i>corps<br /></i>So little +as MAJOR LA GUERRE—<br />No officer swore at his warriors more<br />Than +MAJOR MAKREDI PREPERE.</p> +<p>Their soldiers adored them, and every grade<br />Delighted to hear +their abuse;<br />Though whenever these officers came on parade<br />They +shivered and shook in their shoes.</p> +<p>For, oh! if LA GUERRE could all praises withhold,<br />Why, so could +MAKREDI PREPERE,<br />And, oh! if MAKREDI could bluster and scold,<br />Why, +so could the mighty LA GUERRE.</p> +<p>“No doubt we deserve it—no mercy we crave—<br />Go +on—you’re conferring a boon;<br />We would rather be slanged +by a warrior brave,<br />Than praised by a wretched poltroon!”</p> +<p>MAKREDI would say that in battle’s fierce rage<br />True happiness +only was met:<br />Poor MAJOR MAKREDI, though fifty his age,<br />Had +never known happiness yet!</p> +<p>LA GUERRE would declare, “With the blood of a foe<br />No tipple +is worthy to clink.”<br />Poor fellow! he hadn’t, though +sixty or so,<br />Yet tasted his favourite drink!</p> +<p>They agreed at their mess—they agreed in the glass—<br />They +agreed in the choice of their “set,”<br />And they also +agreed in adoring, alas!<br />The Vivandière, pretty FILLETTE.</p> +<p>Agreement, you see, may be carried too far,<br />And after agreeing +all round<br />For years—in this soldierly “maid of the +bar,”<br />A bone of contention they found!</p> +<p>It may seem improper to call such a pet—<br />By a metaphor, +even—a bone;<br />But though they agreed in adoring her, yet<br />Each +wanted to make her his own.</p> +<p>“On the day that you marry her,” muttered PREPERE<br />(With +a pistol he quietly played),<br />“I’ll scatter the brains +in your noddle, I swear,<br />All over the stony parade!”</p> +<p>“I cannot do <i>that</i> to you,” answered LA GUERRE,<br />“Whatever +events may befall;<br />But this <i>I can</i> do—<i>if you</i> +wed her, <i>mon cher!<br /></i>I’ll eat you, moustachios and all!”</p> +<p>The rivals, although they would never engage,<br />Yet quarrelled +whenever they met;<br />They met in a fury and left in a rage,<br />But +neither took pretty FILLETTE.</p> +<p>“I am not afraid,” thought MAKREDI PREPERE:<br />“For +country I’m ready to fall;<br />But nobody wants, for a mere Vivandière,<br />To +be eaten, moustachios and all!</p> +<p>“Besides, though LA GUERRE has his faults, I’ll allow<br />He’s +one of the bravest of men:<br />My goodness! if I disagree with him +now,<br />I might disagree with him then.”</p> +<p>“No coward am I,” said LA GUERRE, “as you guess—<br />I +sneer at an enemy’s blade;<br />But I don’t want PREPERE +to get into a mess<br />For splashing the stony parade!”</p> +<p>One day on parade to PREPERE and LA GUERRE<br />Came CORPORAL JACOT +DEBETTE,<br />And trembling all over, he prayed of them there<br />To +give him the pretty FILLETTE.</p> +<p>“You see, I am willing to marry my bride<br />Until you’ve +arranged this affair;<br />I will blow out my brains when your honours +decide<br />Which marries the sweet Vivandière!”</p> +<p>“Well, take her,’ said both of them in a duet<br />(A +favourite form of reply),<br />“But when I am ready to marry FILLETTE.<br />Remember +you’ve promised to die!”</p> +<p>He married her then: from the flowery plains<br />Of existence the +roses they cull:<br />He lived and he died with his wife; and his brains<br />Are +reposing in peace in his skull.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>Ballad: Emily, John, James, And I. A Derby Legend</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>EMILY JANE was a nursery maid,<br />JAMES was a bold Life Guard,<br />JOHN +was a constable, poorly paid<br />(And I am a doggerel bard).</p> +<p>A very good girl was EMILY JANE,<br />JIMMY was good and true,<br />JOHN +was a very good man in the main<br />(And I am a good man too).</p> +<p>Rivals for EMMIE were JOHNNY and JAMES,<br />Though EMILY liked them +both;<br />She couldn’t tell which had the strongest claims<br />(And +<i>I</i> couldn’t take my oath).</p> +<p>But sooner or later you’re certain to find<br />Your sentiments +can’t lie hid—<br />JANE thought it was time that she made +up her mind<br />(And I think it was time she did).</p> +<p>Said JANE, with a smirk, and a blush on her face,<br />“I’ll +promise to wed the boy<br />Who takes me to-morrow to Epsom Race!”<br />(Which +I would have done, with joy).</p> +<p>From JOHNNY escaped an expression of pain,<br />But Jimmy said, “Done +with you!<br />I’ll take you with pleasure, my EMILY JANE!”<br />(And +I would have said so too).</p> +<p>JOHN lay on the ground, and he roared like mad<br />(For JOHNNY was +sore perplexed),<br />And he kicked very hard at a very small lad<br />(Which +<i>I</i> often do, when vexed).</p> +<p>For JOHN was on duty next day with the Force,<br />To punish all +Epsom crimes;<br />Young people <i>will</i> cross when they’re +clearing the course<br />(I do it myself, sometimes).</p> +<p>* * * * * * * *</p> +<p>The Derby Day sun glittered gaily on cads,<br />On maidens with gamboge +hair,<br />On sharpers and pickpockets, swindlers and pads,<br />(For +I, with my harp, was there).</p> +<p>And JIMMY went down with his JANE that day,<br />And JOHN by the +collar or nape<br />Seized everybody who came in his way<br />(And <i>I</i> +had a narrow escape).</p> +<p>He noticed his EMILY JANE with JIM,<br />And envied the well-made +elf;<br />And people remarked that he muttered “Oh, dim!”<br />(I +often say “dim!” myself).</p> +<p>JOHN dogged them all day, without asking their leaves;<br />For his +sergeant he told, aside,<br />That JIMMY and JANE were notorious thieves<br />(And +I think he was justified).</p> +<p>But JAMES wouldn’t dream of abstracting a fork,<br />And JENNY +would blush with shame<br />At stealing so much as a bottle or cork<br />(A +bottle I think fair game).</p> +<p>But, ah! there’s another more serious crime!<br />They wickedly +strayed upon<br />The course, at a critical moment of time<br />(I pointed +them out to JOHN).</p> +<p>The constable fell on the pair in a crack—<br />And then, with +a demon smile,<br />Let JENNY cross over, but sent JIMMY back<br />(I +played on my harp the while).</p> +<p>Stern JOHNNY their agony loud derides<br />With a very triumphant +sneer—<br />They weep and they wail from the opposite sides<br />(And +<i>I</i> shed a silent tear).</p> +<p>And JENNY is crying away like mad,<br />And JIMMY is swearing hard;<br />And +JOHNNY is looking uncommonly glad<br />(And I am a doggerel bard).</p> +<p>But JIMMY he ventured on crossing again<br />The scenes of our Isthmian +Games—<br />JOHN caught him, and collared him, giving him pain<br />(I +felt very much for JAMES).</p> +<p>JOHN led him away with a victor’s hand,<br />And JIMMY was +shortly seen<br />In the station-house under the grand Grand Stand<br />(As +many a time <i>I’ve</i> been).</p> +<p>And JIMMY, bad boy, was imprisoned for life,<br />Though EMILY pleaded +hard;<br />And JOHNNY had EMILY JANE to wife<br />(And I am a doggerel +bard).</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>Ballad: The Perils Of Invisibility</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>OLD PETER led a wretched life—<br />Old PETER had a furious +wife;<br />Old PETER too was truly stout,<br />He measured several yards +about.</p> +<p>The little fairy PICKLEKIN<br />One summer afternoon looked in,<br />And +said, “Old PETER, how de do?<br />Can I do anything for you?</p> +<p>“I have three gifts—the first will give<br />Unbounded +riches while you live;<br />The second health where’er you be;<br />The +third, invisibility.”</p> +<p>“O little fairy PICKLEKIN,”<br />Old PETER answered with +a grin,<br />“To hesitate would be absurd,—<br />Undoubtedly +I choose the third.”</p> +<p>“’Tis yours,” the fairy said; “be quite<br />Invisible +to mortal sight<br />Whene’er you please. Remember me<br />Most +kindly, pray, to MRS. P.”</p> +<p>Old MRS. PETER overheard<br />Wee PICKLEKIN’S concluding word,<br />And, +jealous of her girlhood’s choice,<br />Said, “That was some +young woman’s voice:</p> +<p>Old PETER let her scold and swear—<br />Old PETER, bless him, +didn’t care.<br />“My dear, your rage is wasted quite—<br />Observe, +I disappear from sight!”</p> +<p>A well-bred fairy (so I’ve heard)<br />Is always faithful to +her word:<br />Old PETER vanished like a shot,<br />Put then—<i>his +suit of clothes did not</i>!</p> +<p>For when conferred the fairy slim<br />Invisibility on <i>him,<br /></i>She +popped away on fairy wings,<br />Without referring to his “things.”</p> +<p>So there remained a coat of blue,<br />A vest and double eyeglass +too,<br />His tail, his shoes, his socks as well,<br />His pair of—no, +I must not tell.</p> +<p>Old MRS. PETER soon began<br />To see the failure of his plan,<br />And +then resolved (I quote the Bard)<br />To “hoist him with his own +petard.”</p> +<p>Old PETER woke next day and dressed,<br />Put on his coat, and shoes, +and vest,<br />His shirt and stock; <i>but could not find<br />His only +pair of</i>—never mind!</p> +<p>Old PETER was a decent man,<br />And though he twigged his lady’s +plan,<br />Yet, hearing her approaching, he<br />Resumed invisibility.</p> +<p>“Dear MRS. P., my only joy,”<br />Exclaimed the horrified +old boy,<br />“Now, give them up, I beg of you—<br />You +know what I’m referring to!”</p> +<p>But no; the cross old lady swore<br />She’d keep his—what +I said before—<br />To make him publicly absurd;<br />And MRS. +PETER kept her word.</p> +<p>The poor old fellow had no rest;<br />His coat, his stick, his shoes, +his vest,<br />Were all that now met mortal eye—<br />The rest, +invisibility!</p> +<p>“Now, madam, give them up, I beg—<br />I’ve had +rheumatics in my leg;<br />Besides, until you do, it’s plain<br />I +cannot come to sight again!</p> +<p>“For though some mirth it might afford<br />To see my clothes +without their lord,<br />Yet there would rise indignant oaths<br />If +he were seen without his clothes!”</p> +<p>But no; resolved to have her quiz,<br />The lady held her own—and +his—<br />And PETER left his humble cot<br />To find a pair of—you +know what.</p> +<p>But—here’s the worst of the affair—<br />Whene’er +he came across a pair<br />Already placed for him to don,<br />He was +too stout to get them on!</p> +<p>So he resolved at once to train,<br />And walked and walked with +all his main;<br />For years he paced this mortal earth,<br />To bring +himself to decent girth.</p> +<p>At night, when all around is still,<br />You’ll find him pounding +up a hill;<br />And shrieking peasants whom he meets,<br />Fall down +in terror on the peats!</p> +<p>Old PETER walks through wind and rain,<br />Resolved to train, and +train, and train,<br />Until he weighs twelve stone’ or so—<br />And +when he does, I’ll let you know.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>Ballad: Old Paul And Old Tim</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>When rival adorers come courting a maid,<br />There’s something +or other may often be said,<br />Why <i>he</i> should be pitched upon +rather than <i>him.<br /></i>This wasn’t the case with Old PAUL +and Old TIM.</p> +<p>No soul could discover a reason at all<br />For marrying TIMOTHY +rather than PAUL;<br />Though all could have offered good reasons, on +oath,<br />Against marrying either—or marrying both.</p> +<p>They were equally wealthy and equally old,<br />They were equally +timid and equally bold;<br />They were equally tall as they stood in +their shoes—<br />Between them, in fact, there was nothing to +choose.</p> +<p>Had I been young EMILY, I should have said,<br />“You’re +both much too old for a pretty young maid,<br />Threescore at the least +you are verging upon”;<br />But I wasn’t young EMILY. +Let us get on.</p> +<p>No coward’s blood ran in young EMILY’S veins,<br />Her +martial old father loved bloody campaigns;<br />At the rumours of battles +all over the globe<br />He pricked up his ears like the war-horse in +“Job.”</p> +<p>He chuckled to hear of a sudden surprise—<br />Of soldiers, +compelled, through an enemy’s spies,<br />Without any knapsacks +or shakos to flee—<br />For an eminent army-contractor was he.</p> +<p>So when her two lovers, whose patience was tried,<br />Implored her +between them at once to decide,<br />She told them she’d marry +whichever might bring<br />Good proofs of his doing the pluckiest thing.</p> +<p>They both went away with a qualified joy:<br />That coward, Old PAUL, +chose a very small boy,<br />And when no one was looking, in spite of +his fears,<br />He set to work boxing that little boy’s ears.</p> +<p>The little boy struggled and tugged at his hair,<br />But the lion +was roused, and Old PAUL didn’t care;<br />He smacked him, and +whacked him, and boxed him, and kicked<br />Till the poor little beggar +was royally licked.</p> +<p>Old TIM knew a trick worth a dozen of that,<br />So he called for +his stick and he called for his hat.<br />“I’ll cover myself +with cheap glory—I’ll go<br />And wallop the Frenchmen who +live in Soho!</p> +<p>“The German invader is ravaging France<br />With infantry rifle +and cavalry lance,<br />And beautiful Paris is fighting her best<br />To +shake herself free from her terrible guest.</p> +<p>“The Frenchmen in London, in craven alarms,<br />Have all run +away from the summons to arms;<br />They haven’t the pluck of +a pigeon—I’ll go<br />And wallop the Frenchmen who skulk +in Soho!”</p> +<p>Old TIMOTHY tried it and found it succeed:<br />That day he caused +many French noses to bleed;<br />Through foggy Soho he spread fear and +dismay,<br />And Frenchmen all round him in agony lay.</p> +<p>He took care to abstain from employing his fist<br />On the old and +the crippled, for they might resist;<br />A crippled old man may have +pluck in his breast,<br />But the young and the strong ones are cowards +confest.</p> +<p>Old TIM and Old PAUL, with the list of their foes,<br />Prostrated +themselves at their EMILY’S toes:<br />“Oh, which of us +two is the pluckier blade?”<br />And EMILY answered and EMILY +said:</p> +<p>“Old TIM has thrashed runaway Frenchmen in scores,<br />Who +ought to be guarding their cities and shores;<br />Old PAUL has made +little chaps’ noses to bleed—<br />Old PAUL has accomplished +the pluckier deed!”</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>Ballad: The Mystic Selvagee</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Perhaps already you may know<br />SIR BLENNERHASSET PORTICO?<br />A +Captain in the Navy, he—<br />A Baronet and K.C.B.<br />You do? +I thought so!<br />It was that Captain’s favourite whim<br />(A +notion not confined to him)<br />That RODNEY was the greatest tar<br />Who +ever wielded capstan-bar.<br />He had been taught so.</p> +<p>“BENBOW! CORNWALLIS! HOOD!—Belay!<br />Compared +with RODNEY”—he would say—<br />“No other tar +is worth a rap!<br />The great LORD RODNEY was the chap<br />The French +to polish!<br /> “Though, mind you, I respect LORD HOOD;<br />CORNWALLIS, +too, was rather good;<br />BENBOW could enemies repel,<br />LORD NELSON, +too, was pretty well—<br />That is, tol-lol-ish!”</p> +<p>SIR BLENNERHASSET spent his days<br />In learning RODNEY’S +little ways,<br />And closely imitated, too,<br />His mode of talking +to his crew—<br />His port and paces.<br />An ancient tar he tried +to catch<br />Who’d served in RODNEY’S famous batch;<br />But +since his time long years have fled,<br />And RODNEY’S tars are +mostly dead:<br /><i>Eheu fugaces</i>!</p> +<p>But after searching near and far,<br />At last he found an ancient +tar<br />Who served with RODNEY and his crew<br />Against the French +in ’Eighty-two,<br />(That gained the peerage).<br />He gave him +fifty pounds a year,<br />His rum, his baccy, and his beer;<br />And +had a comfortable den<br />Rigged up in what, by merchantmen,<br />Is +called the steerage.</p> +<p>“Now, JASPER”—’t was that sailor’s +name—<br />“Don’t fear that you’ll incur my +blame<br />By saying, when it seems to you,<br />That there is anything +I do<br />That RODNEY wouldn’t.”<br />The ancient sailor +turned his quid,<br />Prepared to do as he was bid:<br />“Ay, +ay, yer honour; to begin,<br />You’ve done away with ‘swifting +in’—<br />Well, sir, you shouldn’t!</p> +<p>“Upon your spars I see you’ve clapped<br />Peak halliard +blocks, all iron-capped.<br />I would not christen that a crime,<br />But +’twas not done in RODNEY’S time.<br />It looks half-witted!<br />Upon +your maintop-stay, I see,<br />You always clap a selvagee!<br />Your +stays, I see, are equalized—<br />No vessel, such as RODNEY prized,<br />Would +thus be fitted!</p> +<p>“And RODNEY, honoured sir, would grin<br />To see you turning +deadeyes in,<br />Not <i>up</i>, as in the ancient way,<br />But downwards, +like a cutter’s stay—<br />You didn’t oughter;<br />Besides, +in seizing shrouds on board,<br />Breast backstays you have quite ignored;<br />Great +RODNEY kept unto the last<br />Breast backstays on topgallant mast—<br />They +make it tauter.”</p> +<p>SIR BLENNERHASSET “swifted in,”<br />Turned deadeyes +up, and lent a fin<br />To strip (as told by JASPER KNOX)<br />The iron +capping from his blocks,<br />Where there was any.<br />SIR BLENNERHASSET +does away,<br />With selvagees from maintop-stay;<br />And though it +makes his sailors stare,<br />He rigs breast backstays everywhere—<br />In +fact, too many.</p> +<p>One morning, when the saucy craft<br />Lay calmed, old JASPER toddled +aft.<br />“My mind misgives me, sir, that we<br />Were wrong about +that selvagee—<br />I should restore it.”<br />“Good,” +said the Captain, and that day<br />Restored it to the maintop-stay.<br />Well-practised +sailors often make<br />A much more serious mistake,<br />And then ignore +it.</p> +<p>Next day old JASPER came once more:<br />“I think, sir, I was +right before.”<br />Well, up the mast the sailors skipped,<br />The +selvagee was soon unshipped,<br />And all were merry.<br />Again a day, +and JASPER came:<br />“I p’r’aps deserve your honour’s +blame,<br />I can’t make up my mind,” said he,<br />“About +that cursed selvagee—<br />It’s foolish—very.</p> +<p>“On Monday night I could have sworn<br />That maintop-stay +it should adorn,<br />On Tuesday morning I could swear<br />That selvagee +should not be there.<br />The knot’s a rasper!”<br />“Oh, +you be hanged,” said CAPTAIN P.,<br />“Here, go ashore at +Caribbee.<br />Get out—good bye—shove off—all right!”<br />Old +JASPER soon was out of sight—<br />Farewell, old JASPER!</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>Ballad: The Cunning Woman</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>On all Arcadia’s sunny plain,<br />On all Arcadia’s hill,<br />None +were so blithe as BILL and JANE,<br />So blithe as JANE and BILL.</p> +<p>No social earthquake e’er occurred<br />To rack their common +mind:<br />To them a Panic was a word—<br />A Crisis, empty wind.</p> +<p>No Stock Exchange disturbed the lad<br />With overwhelming shocks—<br />BILL +ploughed with all the shares he had,<br />JANE planted all her stocks.</p> +<p>And learn in what a simple way<br />Their pleasures they enhanced—<br />JANE +danced like any lamb all day,<br />BILL piped as well as danced.</p> +<p>Surrounded by a twittling crew,<br />Of linnet, lark, and thrush,<br />BILL +treated his young lady to<br />This sentimental gush:</p> +<p>“Oh, JANE, how true I am to you!<br />How true you are to me!<br />And +how we woo, and how we coo!<br />So fond a pair are we!</p> +<p>“To think, dear JANE, that anyways.<br />Your chiefest end +and aim<br />Is, one of these fine summer days,<br />To bear my humble +name!”</p> +<p>Quoth JANE, “Well, as you put the case,<br />I’m true +enough, no doubt,<br />But then, you see, in this here place<br />There’s +none to cut you out.</p> +<p>“But, oh! if anybody came—<br />A Lord or any such—<br />I +do not think your humble name<br />Would fascinate me much.</p> +<p>“For though your mates, you often boast.<br />You distance +out-and-out;<br />Still, in the abstract, you’re a most<br />Uncompromising +lout!”</p> +<p>Poor BILL, he gave a heavy sigh,<br />He tried in vain to speak—<br />A +fat tear started to each eye<br />And coursed adown each cheek.</p> +<p>For, oh! right well in truth he knew<br />That very self-same day,<br />The +LORD DE JACOB PILLALOO<br />Was coming there to stay!</p> +<p>The LORD DE JACOB PILLALOO<br />All proper maidens shun—<br />He +loves all women, it is true,<br />But never marries one.</p> +<p>Now JANE, with all her mad self-will,<br />Was no coquette—oh +no!<br />She really loved her faithful BILL,<br />And thus she tuned +her woe:</p> +<p>“Oh, willow, willow, o’er the lea!<br />And willow once +again!<br />The Peer will fall in love with me!<br />Why wasn’t +I made plain?”</p> +<p>* * * * *</p> +<p>A cunning woman lived hard by,<br />A sorceressing dame,<br />MACCATACOMB +DE SALMON-EYE<br />Was her uncommon name.</p> +<p>To her good JANE, with kindly yearn<br />For BILL’S increasing +pain,<br />Repaired in secrecy to learn<br />How best to make her plain.</p> +<p>“Oh, JANE,” the worthy woman said,<br />“This mystic +phial keep,<br />And rub its liquor in your head<br />Before you go +to sleep.</p> +<p>“When you awake next day, I trow,<br />You’ll look in +form and hue<br />To others just as you do now—<br />But not to +PILLALOO!</p> +<p>“When you approach him, you will find<br />He’ll think +you coarse—unkempt—<br />And rudely bid you get behind,<br />With +undisguised contempt.”</p> +<p>The LORD DE PILLALOO arrived<br />With his expensive train,<br />And +when in state serenely hived,<br />He sent for BILL and JANE.</p> +<p>“Oh, spare her, LORD OF PILLALOO!<br />(Said BILL) if wed you +be,<br />There’s anything <i>I’d</i> rather do<br />Than +flirt with LADY P.”</p> +<p>The Lord he gazed in Jenny’s eyes,<br />He looked her through +and through:<br />The cunning woman’s prophecies<br />Were clearly +coming true.</p> +<p>LORD PILLALOO, the Rustic’s Bane<br />(Bad person he, and proud),<br /><i>He +laughed Ha! ha! at pretty</i> JANE,<br /><i>And sneered at her aloud!</i></p> +<p>He bade her get behind him then,<br />And seek her mother’s +stye—<br />Yet to her native countrymen<br />She was as fair as +aye!</p> +<p>MACCATACOMB, continue green!<br />Grow, SALMON-EYE, in might,<br />Except +for you, there might have been<br />The deuce’s own delight</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>Ballad: Phrenology</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>“Come, collar this bad man—<br />Around the throat he +knotted me<br />Till I to choke began—<br />In point of fact, +garotted me!”</p> +<p>So spake SIR HERBERT WRITE<br />To JAMES, Policeman Thirty-two—<br />All +ruffled with his fight<br />SIR HERBERT was, and dirty too.</p> +<p>Policeman nothing said<br />(Though he had much to say on it),<br />But +from the bad man’s head<br />He took the cap that lay on it.</p> +<p>“No, great SIR HERBERT WHITE—<br />Impossible to take +him up.<br />This man is honest quite—<br />Wherever did you rake +him up?</p> +<p>“For Burglars, Thieves, and Co.,<br />Indeed, I’m no +apologist,<br />But I, some years ago,<br />Assisted a Phrenologist.</p> +<p>“Observe his various bumps,<br />His head as I uncover it:<br />His +morals lie in lumps<br />All round about and over it.”</p> +<p>“Now take him,” said SIR WHITE,<br />“Or you will +soon be rueing it;<br />Bless me! I must be right,—<br />I +caught the fellow doing it!”</p> +<p>Policeman calmly smiled,<br />“Indeed you are mistaken, sir,<br />You’re +agitated—riled—<br />And very badly shaken, sir.</p> +<p>“Sit down, and I’ll explain<br />My system of Phrenology,<br />A +second, please, remain”—<br />(A second is horology).</p> +<p>Policeman left his beat—<br />(The Bart., no longer furious,<br />Sat +down upon a seat,<br />Observing, “This is curious!”)</p> +<p>“Oh, surely, here are signs<br />Should soften your rigidity:<br />This +gentleman combines<br />Politeness with timidity.</p> +<p>“Of Shyness here’s a lump—<br />A hole for Animosity—<br />And +like my fist his bump<br />Of Impecuniosity.</p> +<p>“Just here the bump appears<br />Of Innocent Hilarity,<br />And +just behind his ears<br />Are Faith, and Hope, and Charity.</p> +<p>He of true Christian ways<br />As bright example sent us is—<br />This +maxim he obeys,<br />‘<i>Sorte tuâ contentus sis</i>.’</p> +<p>“There, let him go his ways,<br />He needs no stern admonishing.”<br />The +Bart., in blank amaze,<br />Exclaimed, “This is astonishing!</p> +<p>“I <i>must</i> have made a mull,<br />This matter I’ve +been blind in it:<br />Examine, please, <i>my</i> skull,<br />And tell +me what you find in it.”</p> +<p>That Crusher looked, and said,<br />With unimpaired urbanity,<br />“SIR +HERBERT, you’ve a head<br />That teems with inhumanity.</p> +<p>“Here’s Murder, Envy, Strife<br />(Propensity to kill +any),<br />And Lies as large as life,<br />And heaps of Social Villany.</p> +<p>“Here’s Love of Bran-New Clothes,<br />Embezzling—Arson—Deism—<br />A +taste for Slang and Oaths,<br />And Fraudulent Trusteeism.</p> +<p>“Here’s Love of Groundless Charge—<br />Here’s +Malice, too, and Trickery,<br />Unusually large<br />Your bump of Pocket-Pickery—”</p> +<p>“Stop!” said the Bart., “my cup<br />Is full—I’m +worse than him in all;<br />Policeman, take me up—<br />No doubt +I am some criminal!”</p> +<p>That Pleeceman’s scorn grew large<br />(Phrenology had nettled +it),<br />He took that Bart. in charge—<br />I don’t know +how they settled it.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>Ballad: The Fairy Curate</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Once a fairy<br />Light and airy<br />Married with a mortal;<br />Men, +however,<br />Never, never<br />Pass the fairy portal.<br />Slyly stealing,<br />She +to Ealing<br />Made a daily journey;<br />There she found him,<br />Clients +round him<br />(He was an attorney).</p> +<p>Long they tarried,<br />Then they married.<br />When the ceremony<br />Once +was ended,<br />Off they wended<br />On their moon of honey.<br />Twelvemonth, +maybe,<br />Saw a baby<br />(Friends performed an orgie).<br />Much +they prized him,<br />And baptized him<br />By the name of GEORGIE,</p> +<p>GEORGIE grew up;<br />Then he flew up<br />To his fairy mother.<br />Happy +meeting—<br />Pleasant greeting—<br />Kissing one another.<br />“Choose +a calling<br />Most enthralling,<br />I sincerely urge ye.”<br />“Mother,” +said he<br />(Rev’rence made he),<br />“I would join the +clergy.</p> +<p>“Give permission<br />In addition—<br />Pa will let me +do it:<br />There’s a living<br />In his giving—<br />He’ll +appoint me to it.<br />Dreams of coff’ring,<br />Easter off’ring,<br />Tithe +and rent and pew-rate,<br />So inflame me<br />(Do not blame me),<br />That +I’ll be a curate.”</p> +<p>She, with pleasure,<br />Said, “My treasure,<br />’T +is my wish precisely.<br />Do your duty,<br />There’s a beauty;<br />You +have chosen wisely.<br />Tell your father<br />I would rather<br />As +a churchman rank you.<br />You, in clover,<br />I’ll watch over.”<br />GEORGIE +said, “Oh, thank you!”</p> +<p>GEORGIE scudded,<br />Went and studied,<br />Made all preparations,<br />And +with credit<br />(Though he said it)<br />Passed examinations.<br />(Do +not quarrel<br />With him, moral,<br />Scrupulous digestions—<br />’Twas +his mother,<br />And no other,<br />Answered all the questions.)</p> +<p>Time proceeded;<br />Little needed<br />GEORGIE admonition:<br />He, +elated,<br />Vindicated<br />Clergyman’s position.<br />People +round him<br />Always found him<br />Plain and unpretending;<br />Kindly +teaching,<br />Plainly preaching,<br />All his money lending.</p> +<p>So the fairy,<br />Wise and wary,<br />Felt no sorrow rising—<br />No +occasion<br />For persuasion,<br />Warning, or advising.<br />He, resuming<br />Fairy +pluming<br />(That’s not English, is it?)<br />Oft would fly up,<br />To +the sky up,<br />Pay mamma a visit.</p> +<p>* * * * * * * *</p> +<p>Time progressing,<br />GEORGIE’S blessing<br />Grew more Ritualistic—<br />Popish +scandals,<br />Tonsures—sandals—<br />Genuflections mystic;<br />Gushing +meetings—<br />Bosom-beatings—<br />Heavenly ecstatics—<br />Broidered +spencers—<br />Copes and censers—<br />Rochets and dalmatics.</p> +<p>This quandary<br />Vexed the fairy—<br />Flew she down to Ealing.<br />“GEORGIE, +stop it!<br />Pray you, drop it;<br />Hark to my appealing:<br />To +this foolish<br />Papal rule-ish<br />Twaddle put an ending;<br />This +a swerve is<br />From our Service<br />Plain and unpretending.”</p> +<p>He, replying,<br />Answered, sighing,<br />Hawing, hemming, humming,<br />“It’s +a pity—<br />They’re so pritty;<br />Yet in mode becoming,<br />Mother +tender,<br />I’ll surrender—<br />I’ll be unaffected—”<br />But +his Bishop<br />Into <i>his</i> shop<br />Entered unexpected!</p> +<p>“Who is this, sir,—<br />Ballet miss, sir?”<br />Said +the Bishop coldly.<br />“’T is my mother,<br />And no other,”<br />GEORGIE +answered boldly.<br />“Go along, sir!<br />You are wrong, sir;<br />You +have years in plenty,<br />While this hussy<br />(Gracious mussy!)<br />Isn’t +two and twenty!”</p> +<p>(Fairies clever<br />Never, never<br />Grow in visage older;<br />And +the fairy,<br />All unwary,<br />Leant upon his shoulder!)<br />Bishop +grieved him,<br />Disbelieved him;<br />GEORGE the point grew warm on;<br />Changed +religion,<br />Like a pigeon, <a name="citation12"></a><a href="#footnote12">{12}</a><br />And +became a Mormon!</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>Ballad: The Way Of Wooing</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>A maiden sat at her window wide,<br />Pretty enough for a Prince’s +bride,<br />Yet nobody came to claim her.<br />She sat like a beautiful +picture there,<br />With pretty bluebells and roses fair,<br />And jasmine-leaves +to frame her.<br />And why she sat there nobody knows;<br />But this +she sang as she plucked a rose,<br />The leaves around her strewing:<br />“I’ve +time to lose and power to choose;<br />’T is not so much the gallant +who woos,<br />But the gallant’s <i>way</i> of wooing!”</p> +<p>A lover came riding by awhile,<br />A wealthy lover was he, whose +smile<br />Some maids would value greatly—<br />A formal lover, +who bowed and bent,<br />With many a high-flown compliment,<br />And +cold demeanour stately,<br />“You’ve still,” said +she to her suitor stern,<br />“The ’prentice-work of your +craft to learn,<br />If thus you come a-cooing.<br />I’ve time +to lose and power to choose;<br />’T is not so much the gallant +who woos,<br />As the gallant’s <i>way</i> of wooing!”</p> +<p>A second lover came ambling by—<br />A timid lad with a frightened +eye<br />And a colour mantling highly.<br />He muttered the errand on +which he’d come,<br />Then only chuckled and bit his thumb,<br />And +simpered, simpered shyly.<br />“No,” said the maiden, “go +your way;<br />You dare but think what a man would say,<br />Yet dare +to come a-suing!<br />I’ve time to lose and power to choose;<br />’T +is not so much the gallant who woos,<br />As the gallant’s <i>way</i> +of wooing!”</p> +<p>A third rode up at a startling pace—<br />A suitor poor, with +a homely face—<br />No doubts appeared to bind him.<br />He kissed +her lips and he pressed her waist,<br />And off he rode with the maiden, +placed<br />On a pillion safe behind him.<br />And she heard the suitor +bold confide<br />This golden hint to the priest who tied<br />The knot +there’s no undoing;<br />With pretty young maidens who can choose,<br />’Tis +not so much the gallant who woos,<br />As the gallant’s <i>way</i> +of wooing!”</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>Ballad: Hongree And Mahry. A Recollection Of A Surrey Melodrama</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>The sun was setting in its wonted west,<br />When HONGREE, Sub-Lieutenant +of Chassoores,<br />Met MAHRY DAUBIGNY, the Village Rose,<br />Under +the Wizard’s Oak—old trysting-place<br />Of those who loved +in rosy Aquitaine.</p> +<p>They thought themselves unwatched, but they were not;<br />For HONGREE, +Sub-Lieutenant of Chassoores,<br />Found in LIEUTENANT-COLONEL JOOLES +DUBOSC<br />A rival, envious and unscrupulous,<br />Who thought it not +foul scorn to dodge his steps,<br />And listen, unperceived, to all +that passed<br />Between the simple little Village Rose<br />And HONGREE, +Sub-Lieutenant of Chassoores.</p> +<p>A clumsy barrack-bully was DUBOSC,<br />Quite unfamiliar with the +well-bred tact<br />That animates a proper gentleman<br />In dealing +with a girl of humble rank.<br />You’ll understand his coarseness +when I say<br />He would have married MAHRY DAUBIGNY,<br />And dragged +the unsophisticated girl<br />Into the whirl of fashionable life,<br />For +which her singularly rustic ways,<br />Her breeding (moral, but extremely +rude),<br />Her language (chaste, but ungrammatical),<br />Would absolutely +have unfitted her.<br />How different to this unreflecting boor<br />Was +HONGREE, Sub-Lieutenant of Chassoores.</p> +<p>Contemporary with the incident<br />Related in our opening paragraph,<br />Was +that sad war ’twixt Gallia and ourselves<br />That followed on +the treaty signed at Troyes;<br />And so LIEUTENANT-COLONEL JOOLES DUBOSC<br />(Brave +soldier, he, with all his faults of style)<br />And HONGREE, Sub-Lieutenant +of Chassoores,<br />Were sent by CHARLES of France against the lines<br />Of +our Sixth HENRY (Fourteen twenty-nine),<br />To drive his legions out +of Aquitaine.</p> +<p>When HONGREE, Sub-Lieutenant of Chassoores,<br />Returned, suspecting +nothing, to his camp,<br />After his meeting with the Village Rose,<br />He +found inside his barrack letter-box<br />A note from the commanding +officer,<br />Requiring his attendance at head-quarters.<br />He went, +and found LIEUTENANT-COLONEL JOOLES.</p> +<p>“Young HONGREE, Sub-Lieutenant of Chassoores,<br />This night +we shall attack the English camp:<br />Be the ‘forlorn hope’ +yours—you’ll lead it, sir,<br />And lead it too with credit, +I’ve no doubt.<br />As every man must certainly be killed<br />(For +you are twenty ’gainst two thousand men),<br />It is not likely +that you will return.<br />But what of that? you’ll have the benefit<br />Of +knowing that you die a soldier’s death.”</p> +<p>Obedience was young HONGREE’S strongest point,<br />But he +imagined that he only owed<br />Allegiance to his MAHRY and his King.<br />“If +MAHRY bade me lead these fated men,<br />I’d lead them—but +I do not think she would.<br />If CHARLES, my King, said, ‘Go, +my son, and die,’<br />I’d go, of course—my duty would +be clear.<br />But MAHRY is in bed asleep, I hope,<br />And CHARLES, +my King, a hundred leagues from this.<br />As for LIEUTENANT-COLONEL +JOOLES DUBOSC,<br />How know I that our monarch would approve<br />The +order he has given me to-night?<br />My King I’ve sworn in all +things to obey—<br />I’ll only take my orders from my King!”<br />Thus +HONGREE, Sub-Lieutenant of Chassoores,<br />Interpreted the terms of +his commission.</p> +<p>And HONGREE, who was wise as he was good,<br />Disguised himself +that night in ample cloak,<br />Round flapping hat, and vizor mask of +black,<br />And made, unnoticed, for the English camp.<br />He passed +the unsuspecting sentinels<br />(Who little thought a man in this disguise<br />Could +be a proper object of suspicion),<br />And ere the curfew bell had boomed +“lights out,”<br />He found in audience Bedford’s +haughty Duke.</p> +<p>“Your Grace,” he said, “start not—be not +alarmed,<br />Although a Frenchman stands before your eyes.<br />I’m +HONGREE, Sub-Lieutenant of Chassoores.<br />My Colonel will attack your +camp to-night,<br />And orders me to lead the hope forlorn.<br />Now +I am sure our excellent KING CHARLES<br />Would not approve of this; +but he’s away<br />A hundred leagues, and rather more than that.<br />So, +utterly devoted to my King,<br />Blinded by my attachment to the throne,<br />And +having but its interest at heart,<br />I feel it is my duty to disclose<br />All +schemes that emanate from COLONEL JOOLES,<br />If I believe that they +are not the kind<br />Of schemes that our good monarch would approve.”</p> +<p>“But how,” said Bedford’s Duke, “do you propose<br />That +we should overthrow your Colonel’s scheme?”<br />And HONGREE, +Sub-Lieutenant of Chassoores,<br />Replied at once with never-failing +tact:<br />“Oh, sir, I know this cursed country well.<br />Entrust +yourself and all your host to me;<br />I’ll lead you safely by +a secret path<br />Into the heart of COLONEL JOOLES’ array,<br />And +you can then attack them unprepared,<br />And slay my fellow-countrymen +unarmed.”</p> +<p>The thing was done. The DUKE of BEDFORD gave<br />The order, +and two thousand fighting men<br />Crept silently into the Gallic camp,<br />And +slew the Frenchmen as they lay asleep;<br />And Bedford’s haughty +Duke slew COLONEL JOOLES,<br />And gave fair MAHRY, pride of Aquitaine,<br />To +HONGREE, Sub-Lieutenant of Chassoores.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>Ballad: Etiquette</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>The<i> Ballyshannon</i> foundered off the coast of Cariboo,<br />And +down in fathoms many went the captain and the crew;<br />Down went the +owners—greedy men whom hope of gain allured:<br />Oh, dry the +starting tear, for they were heavily insured.</p> +<p>Besides the captain and the mate, the owners and the crew,<br />The +passengers were also drowned excepting only two:<br />Young PETER GRAY, +who tasted teas for BAKER, CROOP, AND CO.,<br />And SOMERS, who from +Eastern shores imported indigo.</p> +<p>These passengers, by reason of their clinging to a mast,<br />Upon +a desert island were eventually cast.<br />They hunted for their meals, +as ALEXANDER SELKIRK used,<br />But they couldn’t chat together—they +had not been introduced.</p> +<p>For PETER GRAY, and SOMERS too, though certainly in trade,<br />Were +properly particular about the friends they made;<br />And somehow thus +they settled it without a word of mouth—<br />That GRAY should +take the northern half, while SOMERS took the south.</p> +<p>On PETER’S portion oysters grew—a delicacy rare,<br />But +oysters were a delicacy PETER couldn’t bear.<br />On SOMERS’ +side was turtle, on the shingle lying thick,<br />Which SOMERS couldn’t +eat, because it always made him sick.</p> +<p>GRAY gnashed his teeth with envy as he saw a mighty store<br />Of +turtle unmolested on his fellow-creature’s shore.<br />The oysters +at his feet aside impatiently he shoved,<br />For turtle and his mother +were the only things he loved.</p> +<p>And SOMERS sighed in sorrow as he settled in the south,<br />For +the thought of PETER’S oysters brought the water to his mouth.<br />He +longed to lay him down upon the shelly bed, and stuff:<br />He had often +eaten oysters, but had never had enough.</p> +<p>How they wished an introduction to each other they had had<br />When +on board the <i>Ballyshannon</i>! And it drove them nearly mad<br />To +think how very friendly with each other they might get,<br />If it wasn’t +for the arbitrary rule of etiquette!</p> +<p>One day, when out a-hunting for the <i>mus ridiculus,<br /></i>GRAY +overheard his fellow-man soliloquizing thus:<br />“I wonder how +the playmates of my youth are getting on,<br />M’CONNELL, S. B. +WALTERS, PADDY BYLES, and ROBINSON?”</p> +<p>These simple words made PETER as delighted as could be,<br />Old +chummies at the Charterhouse were ROBINSON and he!<br />He walked straight +up to SOMERS, then he turned extremely red,<br />Hesitated, hummed and +hawed a bit, then cleared his throat, and said:</p> +<p>I beg your pardon—pray forgive me if I seem too bold,<br />But +you have breathed a name I knew familiarly of old.<br />You spoke aloud +of ROBINSON—I happened to be by.<br />You know him?” +“Yes, extremely well.” “Allow me, so do I.”</p> +<p>It was enough: they felt they could more pleasantly get on,<br />For +(ah, the magic of the fact!) they each knew ROBINSON!<br />And Mr. SOMERS’ +turtle was at PETER’S service quite,<br />And Mr. SOMERS punished +PETER’S oyster-beds all night.</p> +<p>They soon became like brothers from community of wrongs:<br />They +wrote each other little odes and sang each other songs;<br />They told +each other anecdotes disparaging their wives;<br />On several occasions, +too, they saved each other’s lives.</p> +<p>They felt quite melancholy when they parted for the night,<br />And +got up in the morning soon as ever it was light;<br />Each other’s +pleasant company they reckoned so upon,<br />And all because it happened +that they both knew ROBINSON!</p> +<p>They lived for many years on that inhospitable shore,<br />And day +by day they learned to love each other more and more.<br />At last, +to their astonishment, on getting up one day,<br />They saw a frigate +anchored in the offing of the bay.</p> +<p>To PETER an idea occurred. “Suppose we cross the main?<br />So +good an opportunity may not be found again.”<br />And SOMERS thought +a minute, then ejaculated, “Done!<br />I wonder how my business +in the City’s getting on?”</p> +<p>“But stay,” said Mr. PETER: “when in England, as +you know,<br />I earned a living tasting teas for BAKER, CROOP, AND +CO.,<br />I may be superseded—my employers think me dead!”<br />“Then +come with me,” said SOMERS, “and taste indigo instead.”</p> +<p>But all their plans were scattered in a moment when they found<br />The +vessel was a convict ship from Portland, outward bound;<br />When a +boat came off to fetch them, though they felt it very kind,<br />To +go on board they firmly but respectfully declined.</p> +<p>As both the happy settlers roared with laughter at the joke,<br />They +recognized a gentlemanly fellow pulling stroke:<br />’Twas ROBINSON—a +convict, in an unbecoming frock!<br />Condemned to seven years for misappropriating +stock!!!</p> +<p>They laughed no more, for SOMERS thought he had been rather rash<br />In +knowing one whose friend had misappropriated cash;<br />And PETER thought +a foolish tack he must have gone upon<br />In making the acquaintance +of a friend of ROBINSON.</p> +<p>At first they didn’t quarrel very openly, I’ve heard;<br />They +nodded when they met, and now and then exchanged a word:<br />The word +grew rare, and rarer still the nodding of the head,<br />And when they +meet each other now, they cut each other dead.</p> +<p>To allocate the island they agreed by word of mouth,<br />And PETER +takes the north again, and SOMERS takes the south;<br />And PETER has +the oysters, which he hates, in layers thick,<br />And SOMERS has the +turtle—turtle always makes him sick.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>Foonotes:</h2> +<p><a name="footnote1"></a><a href="#citation1">{1}</a> “Go +with me to a Notary—seal me there<br />Your single bond.”—<i>Merchant +of Venice</i>, Act I., sc. 3.</p> +<p><a name="footnote2"></a><a href="#citation2">{2}</a> “And +there shall she, at Friar Lawrence’ cell,<br />Be shrived and +married.”—<i>Romeo and Juliet</i>, Act II., sc. 4.</p> +<p><a name="footnote3"></a><a href="#citation3">{3}</a> “And +give the fasting horses provender.”—<i>Henry the Fifth</i>, +Act IV., sc. 2.</p> +<p><a name="footnote4"></a><a href="#citation4">{4}</a> “Let +us, like merchants, show our foulest wares.”—<i>Troilus +and Cressida</i>, Act I., sc. 3.</p> +<p><a name="footnote5"></a><a href="#citation5">{5}</a> “Then +must the Jew be merciful.”—<i>Merchant of Venice</i>, Act +IV., sc. 1.</p> +<p><a name="footnote6"></a><a href="#citation6">{6}</a> “The +spring, the summer,<br />The chilling autumn, angry winter, change<br />Their +wonted liveries.”—<i>Midsummer Night Dream</i>, Act IV., +sc. 1.</p> +<p><a name="footnote7"></a><a href="#citation7">{7}</a> “In +the county of Glo’ster, justice of the peace and <i>coram</i>.”<br /><i>Merry +Wives of Windsor</i>, Act I., sc. 1.</p> +<p><a name="footnote8"></a><a href="#citation8">{8}</a> “What +lusty trumpet thus doth summon us?”—<i>King John</i>, Act +V., sc. 2.</p> +<p><a name="footnote9"></a><a href="#citation9">{9}</a> “And +I’ll provide his executioner.”—<i>Henry the Sixth</i> +(Second Part), Act III., sc. 1.</p> +<p><a name="footnote10"></a><a href="#citation10">{10}</a> “The +lioness had torn some flesh away,<br />Which all this while had bled.”—<i>As +You Like It</i>, Act IV., sc. 3.</p> +<p><a name="footnote11"></a><a href="#citation11">{11}</a> Described +by MUNGO PARK.</p> +<p><a name="footnote12"></a><a href="#citation12">{12}</a> “Like +a bird.”—<i>Slang expression.</i></p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div> +<p>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, MORE BAB BALLADS ***</p> +<pre> + +******This file should be named 3babb10h.htm or 3babb10h.zip****** +Corrected EDITIONS of our EBooks get a new NUMBER, 3babb11h.htm +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, 3babb10ah.htm + +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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