LIBRARY ANNEX 2 iSiiJJ^/^IiLiJJjjJJ ' ,ff;^f.<,.''.f< ViV/, ;/"'.', ,'/'.," V PR CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY FROM P. 'If. Field uornell University Library PR 4797.W6 1860 Whims and waifs: 3 1924 013 483 775 Cornell University Library The original of tliis book is in tlie Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924013483775 t mnmn THOMAS HOOD WHIMS AND WAIFS: BY THOMAS HOOD NOW FIRST COLLECTED. NEW YORK: X>E!RBY & JJ^CKSON". MDOOOIX. Kntered, acconiUng to Act of Congress, In the year 1880, by DERBY & JACKSON, ' In the Clerk's Office of the District Court for tlie Southern District of New XoA. /\iiiiij ELEOTEOTYPED BY PRINTED 31T SMITH Si MoDOUGAL, GEO, RUSSELL Si CO , 82 *> 84 Beelcman St. 61 Duane Street. PUBLISHERS' ADVERTISEMENT. As this Collection is intended to form the third volume in a new edition of Hood's Works, now in prefs, a few poems have been inferted that do not fall within the plan originally contem- plated, and set forth in the Preface. Thefe infertions have been made with a view to the convenience in publication of diftribut- ing the matter in volumes of about the fame number of pages, and do not interfere with the general defign of rendering the prefent coUeftion a defirable supplement to any of the editions of Hood now in circulation. Nine-tenths of the volume will be as novel to moft of its readers as if it were publilhed from the manufcript. PREFACE. The rank which is now assigned to Thomas Hood, as one of the most original and ingenious humorists who haye written in any language, gives interest to all the pro- ductions of his pen ; and induces us to believe that the present volume, composed of Dramatic Sketches, Odes, Political Satires, and Miscellaneous Pieces not contained (with a few exceptions) in former collections of his works, will meet with a favorable reception from his friends. True it is that many of these poems were suggested by topics of casual and temporary interest, written hastily to fill the pages of a magazine or annual, in reply to the mex- orable call for copy. But many of Hood's least elaborated poems were among his best, and they all bear the impress of his peculiar powers, his effervescing fancy, his sparkling wit, his inimitable humor, his unvarying benevolence- and kind- ness of heart, his hatred of hypocrisy and cant. The longest of the poems contained in the present volume is in the dramatic form, and upon a subject which also employed the pen of Keats. It gives us a new phase of Hood's versatile and many-colored genius. In the Epping Hunt, we have a story, in the metre of John Gilpin, which does not re- quire the aid of the original cuts to make its humor intelli- X PREFACE. gible. The new collection of Odes and Addresses is worthy the authors of the clever volume which was so great a favor- ite with Coleridge. Of these, the Remonstratory Ode from the Elephant, and probably one or two others, are from the pen of John Hamilton Ebtnolds, the brother- in-law of Hood, and his associate in the production of the Odes and Addresses. Some account of this very clever writer will be found in a note at the end of the volume. The poems which fall under the head of Miscellaneous, have been drawn from a variety of sources, but they are all authenticated as the productions of Hood. Many of them have been taken from the Comic Annual ; others from the gilt-edged and silk-bound volumes that were so popular for Christmas time and New Year's, five-and-twenty years ago. To these Hood was a liberal contributor before the com- mencement of his own annual publication. We have also been indebted to Punch and to the columns of the Literary Gazette and London Athencsum — to all of which period- icals Hood was a sometime contribtttor — for poems that have hitherto escaped the diligence of his editors. While thus gleaning from the fields of ephemeral letters the scattered sheaves of genius, we have run our eye over many pages of contemporaneous criticism, sometimes gentle and generous, but not unfrequently conceived in a harsh and unindulgent temper. Many persons were disposed to regard Hood as a mere punster and witling. The very fertility of his genius was a drawback on his reputation. That he should throw off his effusions with such marvellous PREFACE. XI readiness, and with so little apparent effort, diminished their value with critics, who never seemed to reflect that what Hood could do so easily, no other man could do at all. In the hosts of wits and humorists, who gave such brilliancy, during Hood's career, to the periodical literature of Eng- land, there was no one who could compete with him, or imitate him in the style of writing which he had made so truly his own. Writers there were who were rich in con- ceits and fluent in versification, and who could play readily with words; but there was an inexpressible and original something that Hood infused into his most trivial pleas- antries, in which none of his cleverest contemporaries rivalled or resembled him. In this peculiar vein he still remains not only unsurpassed but unequalled. CONTENTS. PiGE LAMIA: A EOXIAKTCE 17 THE EPPING HUNT 73 POEMS OF SENTIMENT. Guido and Marina; a Dramatic Sketch, 95 Farewell to tlie Swallows, 100 Stanzas to Tom 'Woodgate of Hastings, 102 MORE ODES AND ADDRESSES TO GREAT PEOPLE. To N. A. Vigors, Esq., on the publication of " The Gardens and Menagerie of the Zoological Society," 109 To Joseph Hume, Esq., M. P., 118 To Spencer Perceval, Esq., M. P., 116 To Admiral Gambler, G. C. B. 117 To Sir Andrew Agnew, Bart., 120 To J. S. Buckingham, Esq., M. P., on the Report of the Committee on Drunkenness 124 To Messrs. Green, HoUond, and Monck Mason, on their late Balloon Ex- pedition, 187 Remonstratory Ode, from the Elephant, at Exeter 'Change, to Mr. Mat- thews, at the English Opera House, 141 Address to Mr. Cross, of Exeter 'Change, on the death of the Elephant, . . 146 To the late Lord Mayor, on the publication of his "Visit to Oxford," . . . 150 Ode to George Colraan the Younger, Deputy Licenser of Plays, 155 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. Domestic Asides : or Truth in Parentheses, 161 Town and Country, 162 Lament for the Decline of Chivalry, * 165 The Green Man, 168 All round my Hat,— a new Version 1T2 Playing at Soldiers, 176 Sonnet ISO On the Portrait of a Lady, 180 Party Spirit, 180 Art of Book-Keeping, 181 Dog Days, 18S " Boxiana," 185 On a Eoyal Demise, 186 A Happy New Year, , 187 A Bull, : ... 190 XIV CONTENTS. PAGE A Charity Sermon, 191 Sonnet, 193 The Cigar, 194 Backing the Favorite, . 196 The Pursuit of Letters, 197 The United Family, 193 Epigram, 203 The Volunteer, 204 The Fall of the Deer, (from an old MS.), - • ■ 207 A Eise at the Father of Angling, 209 " Napoleon's Midnight Eeview," — new Version, 214 Poetry, Prose, and Worse, 216 The Forlorn Shepherd's Complaint, an unpublished Poem from Sydney, . 223 Clubs, turned up by a Female Hand, 225 Lord Durham's Eeturn, 228 Tho Assistant Drapers' Petition, 230 Rural Felicity, 233 Stanzas, composed in a Shower Bath, 239 A New Song from tho Polish, 240 Hit or Miss, 246 A Flying Visit, 253 .The Doctor, a Sketch, 267 Mary's Ghost, a Pathetic Ballad, 209 Tim Turpin, a Pathetic Ballad, 271 Tho Vision, 274 The Blue Boar, 277 Jack Hall, 285 John Trot, a Ballad, 294 Drinking Song, by a member of a Temperance Society, as sung by Mr, Spring, at "Waterman's Hall, 297 Suggestions by Steam, 299 Death in the Kitchen, 3qq The Dead Robbery, 303 Agricultural Distress, a Pastoral Report, 809 John Jones, a Pathetic Ballad, Sj5 A Bunch of Forget-Me-Nots, 317 Ode to Miss Kelly on her opening the Strand Theatre, 319 Answer to Pauper, - . . . . 32x Miss Fanny's Farewell Flowers, - 322 On a Picture of Hero and Leander, .... . 324 Incendiaiy Song, 825 A Reflection, . 827 Bon Bluff, a Pathetic Ballad, 828 A Public Dinner, S8I A Drop of Gin, 886 " Tip tho Rhine," 839 Joseph's Lament, 840 The Pleasures of ft Pic-Nic Party, 342 A Reflection on New Tear's Eve, 844 The China Mender 345 Tho Painter Puzzled, 343 CONTENTS. XV FAGE The liOgicians, 351 As it fell upon a day, 854 Epigram, 855 Sonnets, 856 Fine Arts, 857 Laying down the Law, 859 A Winter Nosegay, 363 Epigram, 864 Lieutenant Luff, S6S Elegy on David Laing, Esq., 861 Epigram, SOS Eeflections on a Now Yearns Day 87C A First Attempt at Rhyme, 873 A Discovery in Astronomy, 87^ The Farewell, 87; The Impudence of Steam, 87< The University Feud, 871 A Bow at the Oxford Arms, 88( Etching Moralized, 88! Ode on a distant Prospect of Clapham Academy, 89! A Betrospective Eeview, 89' The Pauper's Christmas Carol, 401 Epigram, 40! The White Slave, 401 A Tale of Temper, ... 401 A Song for the Million 401 Epigram ^1' Magnetic Musing, 41 The Lark and the Eool: 41, The Sausage Maker's Ghost 41 Pythagorean Fancies, Anacreontic, 42 The Captain's Oow 42 Skipping, *^ Epigram, *° " She is far from the Land," 48 The Lay of the Laborer, . . . .' 48 NOTES, 46 ADDENDA, 47 LAMIA. ADVERTISEMENT. The romance of Lamia has never hitherto been inserted in any edition of the author's works. It was originally published in 1852, in the appendix to the first volume of the Autohiography of WiUiam Jerdan, and is thus alluded to in the text. " I have a matter, as I venture to presume, of peculiar interest to relate, and which I cannot conveniently weave into my narrative, so near the close of the volume; I shall therefore, at the latest hour, beg for an allowance of time and credit tiU my next tome appears, for their revelation. Mr. Canning's Lisbon mission will then also demand my illustration ; and, in the I ,meanwhile, not inconsistently with the literary and miscellaneous character of my autobiography, I offer as a reward for granting me this boon, and to enrich these concluding pages with a production that cannot fail to charm every reader of taste and intelligence where the EngUsh tongue is spoken, an unpublished work of wj late lamented friend, Thomas Hood, whose memory wiU stand on a higher pinnacle with posterity for his serious and pathetic vrritings than even for those quaint and facetious performances by which he con- tributed so largely to the harmless mirth of his age, and in which he was unrivalled." DRAMATIS PEESONJi:. young wild gallants of GormOi. Apollonius, a phUosopher, a sophist, tutor to Ltoius. Ltoius, a young man of nolle birth, pupil to Apollomus. MEECUims, CUEIO, Gallo, and others, Jdltos, brother to Lycius. Domjs (pro tempore), butler to Lamia. Pious (pro tempore), steward to Lamia. Lamia, an Enchantress, by nature a Serpent, but now under the disguise of a beautiful woman. The soeki: is in ob neab Coeintb. LAMIA; A ROMANCE. A mossi/ Bank with Trees, on the high Road near Corinth. Miter Lamia. LAMIA. Herb I'll sit down and watcli ; till his dear foot Pronounce him to my ear. That eager hope Hath won me from the brook before I viewed My unacquainted self — But yet it seemed A most rare change — and methinks the change Has left the old fascination in my eyes. Look, here's a shadow of the shape I am — A dainty shadow ! t-SAe sits down on the tank. How fair the world seems now myself am fair ! These dewy daffodils ! these sweet green trees ! I've coiled about their roots — but now I pluck Their drooping branches with this perfect hand ! Sure those were Dryades That with such glancing looks peeped through the green To gaze upon my beauty. [Ltoicb enters and passes on witJumt noiiTuj her Lycius ! sweet Lycius ! — what, so cruel still ! What have I done thou ne'er wilt deign a look. But pass me like a worm ? 22 LAMIA. LYCIUS. Ha ! vho art thou ? ILooUng tack goddess, (for there is no mortal tint, No line about thee lower than divine,) What may that music mean, thy tuneful tongue Hath sent in chase of me ? — I slight ! I scorn thee ! By all the light of day, till this kind hour 1 never saw that face ! — nor one as fair. LAMIA. fie, fie, fie I^what, have you never met That face at Corinth ? — turned too oft towards you, Like the poor maidens that adored Apollo : — Tou must have marked it ! — LYCIUS. Nay, then hear me swear ! By all Olympus and its starry thrones — My eyes have never chanced so sweet a sight. Not in my summer dreams ! LAMIA. Enough, enough ! — why then I've watched in vain — Tracked all your ways, and followed like your shadow ; Hung you with blessings — haunted you with love — And waited on your aspect — all in vain ! — 1 might as well have spent my loving looks. Like Ariadne, on the sullen sea, And hoped for a reflection. Youth, farewell. LYCIUS. not yet— not yet farewell ! Let such an unmatched vision still shine on. Till I have set an impress in my heart To cope with life's decay ! LAMIA. 23 LAMIA. You say but well. I must soon hie me to my elements ; But take your pleasure at my looks till then. LYCIUR. You are not of this earth, then ? isadiy. LAMIA. Of this earth ? Why not ? And of this same and pleasant isle. My world is yours, and I would have no other. One earth, one sea, one sky, in one horizon. Our room is wide enough, unless you hate me. LYCIUS. Hate you ! LAMIA. Then you may wish to set the stars between us The dim and utter lamps of east and west. So far you'd have me from you. LTCIUS. Cruel Syren! To set your music to such killing speech. Look if my eyes turn from you — if my brows, Or any hinting feature, show dislike. Nay, hear my lips — LAMIA. If they will promise love Or talk of it ; but chide, and you will kill me ! LTCIUS. Then, love, speak forth a promise for thyself. And all heaven's witnesses be by to hear thee. — 24 LAMIA. LAMIA. Hold, hold ! I'm satisfied. You'll love me, then? LYCIUS. With boundless, endless love. LAMIA. Ay, give me much on't — for you owe me much, If you knew all. I've licked the very dust whereon you tread — LYCIUS. It is not true ! LAMIA. I'll swear it, if you will. Jove heard the words. And knows they are sadly true. LYCIUS. And this for me ! LAMIA. Ay, sweet, and more. A poor, fond wretch, I filled The flowers with my tears ; and lay supine In coverts wild and rank — fens, horrid, desolate ! 'T would shock your very soul if you could see How this poor figure once was marred and vilified. How grovelled and debased ; contemned and hated By my own self, because, with all its charms. It then could hope no favor in your eyes ; And so I hid it, With toads and newts, and hideous shiny things, Under old ruins, in vile solitudes. Making their haunts my own. LYCIUS. 'Tis strange and piteous. — ^Why, then, you maddened ? LAMIA. 25 LAMIA. I was not quite myself — (not what I am) — Yet something of the woman stayed within me, To weep she was not dead. LYCIXJS. Is this no fable ? LAMIA. most distrustful Lycius ! Hear me call On Heaven, anew, for vouchers to these facts. [itamnders. There ! Could' st thou question that? Sweet skies I thank ye ! Now, Lycius, doubt me if you may or can ; And leave me if you will. I can but turn The wretched creature that I was, again, Crushed by our equal hate. Once more, farewell. LYCIUS. Farewell, but not till death. gentlest, dearest, Forgive my doubts. I have but paused till now To ask if so much bliss could be no dream. Now I am sure Thus I embrace it with my whole glad heart For ever and for ever ; I could weep. Thy tale hath shown me such a matchless love. It makes the elder chronicles grow dim. I always thought 1 wandered all uncared for on my way. Betide me good or ill — nor caused more tears Than hung upon my sword. Yet I was hung With dews, rich pearly dews— shed from such spheres As sprinkle them in amber. Thanks, bounteous stars. Henceforth you shall but rain your beams upon me To bless my brightened days. 2 26 LAMIA. LAMIA. sweet ! sweet ! sweet ! To hear you parley thus and gaze upon you ! Lycius, dear Lycius ! But tell me, dearest, will you never — never Think lightly of myself, nor scorn a love Too frankly set before you ! because 'twas given Unasked, though you should never give again : Because it was a gift and not a purchase — A boon, and not a debt ; not love for love, Where one half s due for gratitude. LYCIUS. Thrice gracious seems thy gift ! LAMIA. Oh, no ! Oh, no ! I should have made you wait, and beg, and kneel. And swear as though I could but half believe you ; I have not even stayed to prove your patience By crosses and feigned slights — given you no time For any bribing gifts or costly shows. I know you will despise me. ' LYCIUS. Never, never. So long as I have sight within these balls, Which only novv I've learned to thank the gods for. LAMIA. 'Tis prettily sworn ; and frankly I'll believe you ! Now shall we on our way ? I have a house (Till now no home) within the walls of Corinth : Will you not master it as well as me ? LAMIA. 27 LYCIUS. My home is in your heart ; but where you dwell, There is my dwelling-place. But let me bear you, sweet ! LAMIA. No, I can walk, if you will charm the way With such discourse ; it makes my heart so light, I seem to have wings within ; or, if I tire, I'll lean upon you thus. LYCIUS. So lean for ever ! lEsemt. SCENE n. The MarJcet-place at Corinth. Apollonius is discovered discoursing with various young Gallants, namely, Mercutius, Curio, &c. APOLLGNITIS. Hush, sirs ! You raise a tingling blush about my ears. That drink such ribaldry and wanton jests — For shame ! — for shame ! — You misapply good gifts the gods have granted ! MERCUTIUS. The gods have made us tongues — ^brains, too, I hope — And time will bring us beards. You sages think Minerva's owl dwells only in such bushes. CURIO. Ha ! ha ! — Why we'll have wigs upon our chins — Long grizzled ones — and snarl about the streets. 28 LAMIA. Hugged up in pride and spleen like any mantle, And be philosophers ! APOLLONIirS. You will do -wisely. CUEIO. Ay — I hope — why not ? Though age has heaped no winter on our pates. Is wisdom such a frail and spoiling thing It must be packed in ice ? GALLO. Or sopped in vinegar ? APOLLONIUS. We would you were more gray — MBECUTIUS. Why, would you have us gray before our time ? Oh, Life's poor capital is too soon spent Without discounting it. Pray do hot grudge us Our share ; — a little wine — a little love — A little youth ! — a little, little folly, Since wisdom has the gross. When they are past, We'll preach with you, and call 'em vanities. APOLLONIUS. No ! — leave that to your mummies. Sure your act Will purchase you an embalming. Let me see ! — Here's one hath spent his fortune on a harlot, And — if he kept to one it was a merit ! — The next has rid the world of so much wine — Why that's a benefit. And you, Sir Plume, Have turned your Tailor to a Senator ; — You've made no man the worse — (for manner's sake LAMIA. 29 My speech exempts yourself). You'ye all done well ; If not, your dying shall be placed to your credit. CTJKIO. You show us bravely — could you ever praise one ? APOLIONIUS. One ? and no more ! why then I answer, yes — Or rather, no ; for I could never praise him. He's as beyond my praise as your complexion — I wish you'd take a pattern ! — CUEIO. Of whose back, sir ? APOLLONITJS. Ay, there you must begin and try to match The very shadow of his virtuous worth, Before you're half a man. MBRCUTIUS. Who is this model ? An ape — an Afric ape — what he and Plato Conspire to call a Man. APOLLONIUS. Then you're a man already ; but no model, So I must set my own example up ; To show you Virtue, Temperance, and Wisdom, And in a youth too ! — Not in a withered graybeard like myself. In whom some virtues are mere worn-out vices, And wisdom but a due and tardy fruit. He, like the orange, bears both fruit and flower Upon his odorous bough — the fair and ripe ! — 30 LAMIA. CUKIO. Why, you can praise too ! APOLLONIUS. As well as I dispraise : — They're both in one, Since you're disparaged when I talk of graces. For example, when I say that he I spoke of Is no wild sin-monger — no sot — no dicer, No blasphemer o' th' gods — no shameless scoflfer, No ape — no braggart — no foul libertine — Ohno— He hugs no witching wanton to his heart. He keeps no vices he's obliged to muffle ; — But pays a filial honor to gray hairs. And guides him by that voice. Divine Philosophy. GALLO. Well, he's a miracle ! — and what's he called ? (all.) Ay, who is he ? — who is he ? APOLLONIUS. His name is Lycius. CTJEIO. Then he's coming yonder : — Lord, how these island fogs delude our eyes ! I could have sworn to a girl too with him. APOLLONIUS. Ay, ay — ^you know these eyes can shoot so far, Or else the jest were but a sorry one. CTJEIO. Mercutius sees her too. LAMIA. SI MERCUTIUS. In £iith, I do, sir. APOLLONIUS. Peace, puppies ! — nine days hence you will see truer. CUEIO. Nay, but by all the gods — GALLO. We'll take our oath on't. APOLLONIUS. Peace, peace ! (aside) I see her too — This is some mockery, Illusion, damned illusion ! What, ho ! Lycius ! [LTCitrs (entering^ wishes to pass aside. Lamia clings cloee to Mm. LAMIA. Hark ! — who is that ? — quick, fold me in your mantle ; Don't let him see my face ! — LYCIUS. Nay, fear not, sweet — 'Tis but old Apollonius, my sage guide. LAMIA. Don't speak to him — don't stay him-^let him pass ! — I have a terror of those graybeard men — They frown on Love with such cold churlish brows, That sometimes he hath flown ! — LYCIUS. Ay, he will chide me ; But do not you fear aught. Why, how you tremble ! LAMIA. Pray shroud me closer. I am cold — death cold ! — LOld Apollontos comes up, followed 62/ the Gallants. 82 LAMIA. APOLLONIUS. My son, what have you here ? LYCIUS. A foolish bird that flew into mj bosom : — • You would not drive him hence ? APOLLONICS. Well, let me see it ; I have some trifling skill in augury. And can divine you from its beak and eyes What sort of fowl it is. LYCIUS. I have learned that, sir ; — 'Tis what is called — a dove — sacred to Venus : — iThe Youtlis laugh andplucTc Apolloniub hy the Bteeve APOLLOJSriUS. Fool ! drive it out ! m lycids. LYCIUS. No, not among these hawks here. APOLLONIUS. Let 's see it, then. (all.) Ay, ay, old Graybeard, you say well for once ; Let 's see it ; — let 's see it ! — APOLLONIUS. And sure it is no snake — to suit the fable — You've nestled in your bosom ? LAMIA (under the mantle). Lost ! lost ! lost ! — MBECUTIUS. Hark ! the dove speaks — I knew it was a parrot ! — LAMIA. SS APOLLONIUS. Dear Lycius — my own son (at least till now), Let me forewarn you, boy ! — LTCIUS. No, peace, I will not. CURIO. There spoke a model for you. APOLLONIUS.' Lycius, Lycius! My eyes are shocked, and half my age is killed. To see your noble self so ill accompanied ! — LYCIUS. And, sir, my eyes are shocked too — Fie ! is this A proper retinue — for those gray hairs ? A troop of scoffing boys ! — Sirs, by your leave I must and will pass on. cro tu oaiumts. MBECUTIUS. That as you can, sir — LTCIUS. Why then this arm has cleared a dozen such. IThey scujie : in the tumult Apolloititts is overturned. APOLLONIUS. Unhappy boy ! — ^this overthrow's your own ! — [LYonis/rees himself and Lamia, and calls hack. LTCIUS. Lift — help him — ^pick him up ! — fools — ^braggarts — apes — Step after me who dares ! — lEau with lamia. GALLO. Whew ! — -here's a model ! — How fare you, sir {to APOLLONius)^your head ? — I fear Your wisdom has suffered by this fall. ' 2* 34 LAMIA. Lycius ! Lycius !- APOLLONIUS. My heart aches more. CTJRIO. Hark ! he calls his model ! — 'Twas a brave pattern. We shall never match him. Such wisdom and such virtues — in a youth too ! He keeps no muffled vices. MERCUTIUS. No ! no ! not he ! — Nor hugs no naughty •wantons in his arms — CUKIO. But pays a filial honor to gray hairs, And listens to thy voice — Divine Philosophy ! LTIietj run of, laughing and mocUng APOLLONIUS. You have my leave to jest. The gods unravel This hellish 'witchery that hides my scholar ! Lycius ! Lycius ! matt ApoLLoimrs, SCENE m. A rich Chamber, with Pictures and Statues. Enter Domtjs unsteadily, with a jlaslc in his hand. DOMTJS. Here's a brave palace ! {Looking round. Why, vrhen this was spread Gold Tvas as cheap as sunshine. How it's stuck All round about the walls. Your health, brave palace ! Ha 1 Brother Picus ! Look ! are you engaged too ? LAMIA. 35 {JEnter Picus.) Hand us your hand : you see I'm butler here. How came you hither ? PICUS. How ? Why a strange odd man — A sort of foreign slave, I think — addressed me I' the market, waiting for my turn, Like a beast of burthen, and hired me for this service. DOMUS. So I was hired, too. PICUS. 'Tis a glorious house ! But come, let's kiss the lips of your bottle. DOMUS. Ay, but be modest : wine is apt to blush. ^ PICUS. 'Tis famous beverage : It makes me reel i' the head. DOMUS. I believe ye, boy. Why, since I sipped it — (mind, I'd only sipped) — I've had such glorious pictures in my brains — Such rich rare dreams ! Such blooms, and rosy bowers, and tumbling fountains, With a score of moons shining at once upon m&— I never saw such sparkling I uMnka. PICUS. Here's a vision ! DOMUS. The sky was always bright ; or, if it gloomed, The very storms came on with scented waters. 36 LAMIA. And, if it snowed, 'twas roses ; claps of thunder Seemed music, only louder ; nay, in the end, Died off in gentle ditties. Then, such birds ! And gold and silver chafers bobbed about ; And when there came a little gush of wind. The very flowers took wing and chased the butterflies ! PICUS. Egad, 'tis very sweet. I prithee, dearest Domus, Let me have one small sup ! DOMUS. No ! hear me out. The hills seemed made of cloud, bridges of rainbows, The earth like trodden smoke. Nothing at all was heavy, gross, or human : Mountains,' with climbing cities on their backs, Shifted about like castled elephants ; You might have launched the houses on the sea, And seen them swim like galleys ! The stones I pitched i' the ponds would barely sink — I could have lifted them by tons ! zDnnks PICUS. Dear Domus, let me paint, too — dear, dear Domus. DOMUS. Methought I was all air — Jove ! I was feared, I had not flesh enough to hold me down From mounting up to the moon. At every step — Bounce ! when I only thought to stride a pace, I bounded thirty. PICUS. Thirty ! Oh, let mo drink I LAMIA. 37 DOMUS. And that too ■when I'd even eat or drank At the rate of two meals to the hour ! UMnks. PICUS. Two meals to the hour — nay Domus — let me drink, Dear Domus let me drink — ^before 'tis empty ! — DOMUS. But then my fare was all so light and delicate, The fruits, the cakes, the meats so dainty frail. They would not bear a bite — no, not a munch. But melted away like ice. Come, here's the bottle ! PICUS. Thanks, Domus — Pshaw, it's empty ! — Well, who cares — There's something thin and washy after all In these poor visions. They all end in emptiness, liike this. ZTums down the tottle. DOMUS. Then fill again, boy — fill again ! And be . I say, look there ! — PICUS. It is our Lady ! [Lamia enters leaning upon LTcnjs. DOMUS. Our Lady's very welcome : {lowing) yours, my lady — Sir, your poor butler : {to Lycius) Picus — ^man— speak up, The very same that swam so in my dreams ; I had forgot the goddess ! — LAMIA. Peace, rude knave ! You've tasted what belonged to nobler brains, 38 LAMIA. And maddened ! — My sweet love {to Ltcius) 'twas kept foi you, 'Tis nature's choicest vintage. {to DoMUs) Drink no more, sir ! Except wkat I'll provide you. DOMUS. sweet Lady ! Lord, and I had a cup I'd thank you in it ! — But you've been drunk — ^sweet lady — ^you've been drunk I Here's Master Picus knows — for we drunk you. PICXJS. Not I, in faith. LTCIUS. Ha ! ha ! my gentle love, Methinks your butler should have been your steward. DOMUS. Why you are merry, sir — And well you may. Look here's a house we've come to ! Jupiter ! Look here are pictures, sir, and here's our statues ! — That's Bacchus ! [Pointing And there's Apollo — just aiming at the serpent. LAMIA. Peace, fool — my dearest Lycius, Pray send him forth. LTCIUS. Sirrah, take him off! iTo steward. PICUS. Fie, Domus — know your place. LAMIA. 39 DOMUS. My place, slave ! What, don't I know my place ? iFaiis on Ms hack. Ain't I the butler ? LTCIUS. No more — no more — there — pull him out by the heels — [DoMUB is dragged out. {To Lamia.) My most dear love — how fares it with you now? Your cheek is somewhat pale. LAMIA. Indeed, I'm weary, We'll not stay here — I have some cheer provided In a more quiet chamber. inxeunt SCENE IV. A Street in Corinth; on one side a very noble building, -which, is the residence of Lamia. Mbecutius, with the other Gal- lants, come and discourse in front of the house. MEECUTIUS. So, here they're lodged ! In faith a pretty nest I GALLO. The first that led us hither for revenge — brave Mercutius ! CUEIO. Now my humor's different, For while there's any stone left in the market-place That hurt these bones, when that pert chick o'erset us I'd never let him sleep ! — 40 LAMIA. GALLO. Nor I, by Nemesis ! I'd pine him to a ghost for want of rest. To the utter verge of death. MERCTITIUS. And then you'd beat him. Is that your noble mind ? GALLO. Lo ! here's a turncoat ! D'ye hear him, gentles ? — he's come here to fool us ! MERCUTIUS. Nor I ; but that I'm turned, I will confess it ; For as we came — in thinking over this — Of Lycius, and the lady whom I glanced Crouching within his mantle — Her most distressful look came so across me — Her death-white cheeks — That I, for one, can find no heart to fret her. CURIO. Shall Lycius then go free ? MERCUTIUS. Ay for her sake : — But do your pleasure ; it is none of mine. GALLO. Why, a false traitor ! isait CURIO. Sirs, I can expound him ; He's smit — he's passion-smit — I heard him talk Of her strange witching eyes — such rare ones That they turned him cold as stone. LAMIA. 41 GALLO. Why let him go then — ^but we'll to our own. CUEIO. Ay, let's be plotting How we can vent our spites on this Sir Lycius — I own it stirs my spleen, more than my bruises, To see him fare so well — hang him ! — a model ! — One that was perked too, underneath our noses, For virtue and for temperance. I have a scheme will grieve 'em without end : I planned it by the way. Tou know this fellow, Lycius, has a father Some fifteen leagues away. We'll send him thither By some most urgent message. GALLO. Bravely plotted : His father shall be dying. Ah ! 'tis excellent. I long to attempt the lady ; — nay, we'll set Mercutius, too, upon her ! Pray, let's to it. Look ! here's old Ban-dog. [AroiLosiua a^mn in the distance. CUKIO. Nay, but I will act Some mischief ere I go. There's for thee, Lycius ! lEe casts a stone through the window, amd {hey ran off. Miter ApoLLONrcrs. APOLLONIUS. Go to, ye silly fools ! — Lo ! here's a palace ! I have grown gray in Corinth, but my eyes Never remember it. Who is the master ? Some one is coming forth. Lycius again ! [Ltoius conies out disordered, with his face flushed, a/nd reds up to ApoLLONitrs. 42 LAMIA. LYCITJS. Why, how now, Grayheard ? What ! are these your frolics, To sound such rude alarum in our ears ? Goto! APOLLONIUS. Son, do you know me ? LTCIUS. Know you ? Why ? Or how ? You have no likeness in our skies ! Gray hairs and such sour looks ! You'd be a wonder ! We have nothing but bright faces. Hebes, Venuses ; No age, no frowns ! No wruikle, but our laughter shakes in wine. I wish you'd learn to drink. APOLLONIUS. Lycius ! Lycius ! Would you had never learned to drink, except those springs We supped together ! These are mortal draughts ; — Your cup is drugged with death ! LYCIUS. Grave sir, you lie ! I'm a young god. Look ! do you not behold The new wings on my shoulders ? You may die ; That moss upon your chin proclaims you're mortal, And feel decays of age. But I'm renewable At every draught I take ! Here, Domus ! Domus ! Enter Domus. Bring a full cup of nectar for this churl. iesm dohcb. 'Twill give you back your youth, sir — ay, like magic — And lift you o'er the clouds. You'll dream of nothing LAMIA. 45 That's meaner than Olympus. Smiling goddesses Will haunt you in your sleep. You'll walk on flowers, And never crush their heads. Enter Domus vAth wine. APOLLONIUS. Peace, madman, peace ! None of your draughts for me — your magic potions. That stufi" your brains with such pernicious cheats ! I say, bear off the bowl ! • LYCIUS. What ! — will he not ? — Then cast it over him — 'twill do as well ; — He shall be a demi-god against his will. Cast it, I say ! — ito domcs DOMUS. 'Tis such a sinful waste ! Why, there, then — there ! vse throws u over Apou-oNnrs Look how it falls to the ground ! Lord, you might soak him in it year by year, And never plump him up to a comely youth Like you or me, sir ! — LTCIUS. Let him go. Farewell ! — Look, foolish Graybeard — I am going back To what your wisdom scorned. A minute hence My soul is in Elysium ! lEait with dostos, APOLLONIUS. Fool, farewell ! Why, I was sprinkled ; yet I feel no wet. 'Tis strange ! — this is some magic, against which 44 LAMIA. Philosophy is proof. I must untangle it. Hold ! — IBe stands in meditcUion. I have it faintly dawning in my brain. 'Tis somewhere in my books (which I'll refer to) — Speaking of Nature's monstrous prodigies, That there be witching snakes — Circean births — Who, by foul spells and forgeries, can take The mask and shape of woman — fair externe, But viperous within. And so they creep Into young hearts, and falsify the brain With juggling mockeries. Alas, poor boy. If this should be thy case ! These are sad tales To send unto thy father. [Meeotjtitjs e7iters without perceimng Apollonitts : going up to Lamia's house, he recollects himsel/. MBRCUTIUS. Here again ? What folly led me hither ? I thought I was Proceeding homeward. Why I've walked a circle. And end where I began ! [Apoilootds goes up and calls in his ear. APOLLONIUS. I'll tell you, dreamer ; It's magic, it's vile magic brought you hither, And made you walk in a fog. There, think of that ; — ^be wise, and save yourself ! I've better men to care for ! [ErftApoLionros. MBECTJTIUS. What did he say ? The words were drowned in my ear by something sweeter. [A strain of wild Ttmsic within tlie house. Music ! rare music ! — It must be her voice ; I ne'er heard one so thrilling ! Is it safe LAMIA. 45 To listen to a song so syren-sweet — so exquisite ? — That I might hold my breath, entranced, and die Of ardent listening ? She is a miracle ! Enter Domus. Look, here's a sot will tell me all he knows. One of her servants — Is that your lady's voice? (^oDomtjs) her pipe's a rare one, DOMUS. Ay, marry. If you heard it sound within, Till it makes the glasses chime, and all the bottles. You'd think yourself in heaven. MBRCUTIUS. I wish she'd sing again. DOMUS. And if you saw her eyes, how you would marvel ! I have seen my master watch them, and fall back Like a man in his fits. I'm rather dizzy, And drunken-like myself The vile quandaries Her beauty brings one into — Lstaggera about Ay, I'm crazed. But you should see our Picus — Lord, how he stands agape, till he drops his salver. And then goes down on his knees. MERCUTIUS. And so should I, Had I been born to serve her ! isigu DOMUS. Why you shall, boy ; And have a leather jerkin — marry, shall you ! We need a helper sadly. I'm o'er-burdened (You see how I am burdened) ; but I'll teach you What manners you may want. 46 LAMIA. MBECUTIUS. Well, I'm for you — (I will dislike no place that brings me near her) — Mind, you have listed me. DOMUS. And I can promise You'll not dislike your fare — 'tis excellent, light As well as savory, and will not stuff you ; But when you've eat your stretch to the outer button, In half an hour you'll hunger. It is all feastiug. With barely a tithe of fasting. Then such drinking ! There's such a cellar ! One hundred paces long (for I have paced it), By about two hundred narrow. Come along, boy ! lEzmnt SCENE V. A Chamber in Lamia's Souse. Lamia and Lycius are discovered sitting on a couch. LAMIA. Nay, sweet-lipped Silence, 'Tis now your turn to talk. I'll not be cheated Of any of my pleasures ; which I shall be. Unless I sometimes listen. LTCIUS. Pray talk on, A little further on. You have not told me What country bore you, that my heart may set Its name in a partial place. Nay, your own name — Which ought to be my better word for beauty — I know not. LAMIA. 47 LAMIA. Wherefore should I talk of such things I care not to remember ? A lover's memory Looks back no further than -when love began, As if the dawn o' the world. As for my birth — suppose I like to think That we were dropped from two strange several stars (Being thus meant for one), why should you wish A prettier theory, or ask my name, As if I did not answer, heart and eyes, To those you call me by ? In sooth, I will not Provide you with a worse. LYCIUS. Then I must find it. Now I'm but puzzled To compound sweet superlatives enough In all the world of words. [Domdb enters boisterously with a letter. DOMUS. An express ! an express I Faith, I've expressed it. I did not even wait {aside) To pry between the folds. [Ltcius takes the letter^ and reads in great agitation. Lamia watches him LAMIA. Alas ! what news is this ? Lycius ! dear Lycius ! Why do you clutch your brow so ? What has chanced To stab you with such grief? Speak ! speak ! LYCIUS. My father ! LAMIA. Dead? LYCIUS. Dying — dying — if not dead by this. I must leave you instantly. 48 LAMIA. LAMIA. Alas ! I thought This fair-eyed day would never see you from me ! But must you go, indeed ? LTCIUS. I must ! I must ! This is some fierce and fearful malady To fall so sudden on him. Why, I left him. No longer since — ay, even when I met you We had embraced that morn. LAMIA. It was but yesterday ! How soon our bliss is marred ! And must you leave me ? LTCitrs. Oh ! do not ask again with such a look, Or I shall linger here and pledge my soul To everlasting shame and keen remorse ! LAMIA. The Fates are cruel ! Yet let me cling to thee and weep awhile : We may not meet again. I can not feel You are safe but in these arms ! isJw embraces Mm. LTCIUS. I'm split asunder By opposite factions of remorse and love ; But all my soul clings here. DOMUS. It makes me weep. He will not see his father. IL-rciaB casta Mmself on the eowh. LAMIA. 49 LAMIA istnrikiTig Domus). Wretch ! take that, For harrowing up his gi-iefs ! Dearest ! — my Lycius ! Lean not your brow upon that heartless pillow ! DOMTJS. How he groaned then ! LAMIA. Lycius, you fright me ! You turn me cold ! LYCiyS irislngnp). Oh ! in that brief rest, I've had a waking vision of my father ! Even as he lay on his face and groaned for me. And shed like bitter tears ! Oh, how those groans will count in heaven against me ! One for pain's cruelty, but two for mine, That gave a sting to his anguish. His dying breath will mount to the skies and curse me. His angered ghost Will haunt my sight, and when I'd look upon you Step in like a blot between us. LAMIA. Go, go ! or you will hate me. Go and leave me ! If I now strive by words or tears to stay you For my pleasure's sake or pain's. You'd say there was something brutal in my nature Of cold and fiendish, and unlike woman ; Some taint that devilish Yet give me one long look before you go — One last, long look ! IShefiseaherevesonUa. 50 LAMIA. LYCIUS. gods ! my spirit fails me, And I have no strength to go, although I would I LAMIA. Perhaps he is dead already ! LYCIUB. Ha ! Why, then, What can I ? Or, if not, what can I still ? Can I keep him from his urn ? or give him breath ? Or replenish him with blood ? LAMIA. Alas ! alas ! Would I had art or skill enough to heal him ! LYCIUS. Ay, art and skill, indeed, do more than love In such extremities. Stay 1 here, hard by, There dwells a learned and most renowned physician, Hath wrought mere miracles. Him I'll engage, armed with our vows and prayers, To spend his utmost study on my father. And promptly visit him. A short farewell. [.Exit. DOMTTS fdWyws. LAMIA. Farewell — be not o'er long. It made me tremble That he should see his father I The oldest eyes Look through some fogs that young ones cannot fathom. And lay bare mysteries. Ah me ! how frail Are my foundations ! Dreams, mere summer dreams, Which, if a day-beam pierce, return to nothing ! And let in sadder shows. A foot 1 — so soon ! Why, then, my wishes hold. LAMIA. 51 Enter Domus and Picus. DOMUS. He's gone ! he's gone ! He had not snuffed the air, outside o' the gate, When it blew a change in his mind. He bade me tell you, A Toice from the sky-roof, where the gods look down. Commanded him to his father. LAMIA. No more ! no more ! (The skies begin, then, to dispute my charms.) But did he ne'er turn back ? DOMUS. Ay, more than twice He turned on his heel, and stood — then turned again. And tramped still quicker as he got from hence. Till at last he ran like a lapwing ! LAMIA. This is a tale Coined by the silly drunkard. You, sir, speak. ' iTo picns PICUS. Nay, by our troths — LAMIA. Then, sirrah, do not speak. If such vile sense be truth, I've had too much on't. Hence ! fly ! or I will kill you with a frown. You've maddened me ! PICUS. I saw her eyes strike fire ! [Pioca anC Donrns mm out. Lamia looks round the cTiamber. LAMIA. Alone! alone! Then, Lamia, weep, and mend your shatter-web. 52 LAMIA. And hang your tears, like morning dew, upon it. Look how your honey-bee has broken loose Through all his meshes, and now wings away, Showing the toils were frail. Ay, frail as gossamers That stretch from rose to rose. Some adverse power Confronts me, or he could not tear them thus. Some evil eye has pierced my mystery ! A blight is in its ken ! I feel my charms decay — my will's revoked- And my keen sight, once a prophetic sense, Is blinded with a cloud, horrid and black, Like a veil before the face of Misery I Another Apartment in Lamia's House. Enter Julius (Ltcius's brother) and Domus. JULIUS. Rumor has not belied the house i' the least ; 'Tis all magnificent. I pray you, sir, How long has your master been gone ? DOMUS. About two quarts, sir ; That is, as long as one would be a drinking 'em. 'Tis a very little while since he set off, sir. JULIUS. You keep a strange reckoning. Where is your mistress ? Will she see me ? DOMUS. Ay, marry ; That is, if you meet ; for it is good broad daylight. JULIUS. This fellow's manners speak but ill for the house. {Aside.') Go, sirrah, to your lady, with my message : LAMIA. 53 Tell her, one Julius, Lycius's best friend, Desires a little converse. iessudouvb. Now for this miracle, ivhose charms have bent The straightest stem of youth strangely awry — My brother Lycius ! He was not use to let his inclination Thus domineer his reason : the cool, grave shade Of. Wisdom's porch dwelt ever on his brow And governed all his thoughts, keeping his passions Severely chastened. Lo ! she comes. How wondrously Her feet glide o'er the ground. Ay, she is beautiful ! So beautiful, my task looks stern beside her. And duty faints like doubt. clamia enters. Oh, thou sweet fraud ! Thou fair excuse for sin, whose matchless cheek Vies blushes with the shame it brings upon thee, Thou delicate forgery of love and virtue. Why art thou as thou art,.„not whaj; here seems So exquisitely promised ? LAMIA. Sir, do you know me ? If not — and my near eyes declare you strange — Mere charity should make you think me better. JULIUS. Oh, would my wishful thought could think no worse Than I might learn by gazing. Why are not those sweet looks — those heavenly looks, True laws to judge thee by, and call thee perfect ? 'Tis pity, indeed 'tis pity, That anything so fair should be a fraud ! 54 LAMIA. LAMIA. Sir, I beseecli you, -wherefore do you hang These elegies on me ? For pity's sake What do you take me for ? No woman, sure, By aiming thus to wound me {weeping). JULIUS. Ay, call these tears Into your ready eyes ! I'd have them scald Your cheeks until they fade, and wear your beauty To a safe and ugly ruin. Those fatal charms Can show no sadder wreck than they have brought On many a noble soul, and noble mind Pray count me : How many men's havocks might forerun the fall Of my lost brother Lycius ? LAMIA. Are you his brother ? Then I'll not say a word to vex you : not a look Shall aim at your offence. You are come to chide me, I know, for winning him to sell his heart At such a worthless rate. Yet I will hear you. Patiently, thankfully, for his dear sake. I will be as mild and humble as a worm Beneath your just rebuke. 'Tis sure no woman Deserved him ; but myself the least of all. Who fall so far short in his value. JULIUS. She touches me ! (^Aside.') LAMIA. Look, sir, upon my eyes. Are they not red ? Within an hour, I've rained a flood of tears. LAMIA. 65 To feel, to know I am no better than the thing I am, Having but just now learned to rate my vileness. You cannot charge My unworthy part so bitterly as I do. If there's about me anything that's honest, Of true and womanly, it belongs to Lycius, And all the rest is Griefs. JULIUS. Then I'll not grieve you — I came with frowns, but I depart in tears And sorrow for you both ; for what he was. And what you might have been — a pair of wonders. The grace and pride of nature — now disgraced, And fallen beyond redress. LAMIA. You wring my heart ! JULIUS. Ay, if you think how you have made him stain The fair-blown pride of his unblemished youth, His studious years — And for what poor exchange ? these fading charms — I will not Bay how frail. LAMIA. hold — pray hold ! Your words have subtle cruel stings, and pierce More deeply than you aim ! This sad heart knows How little of such wrong and spiteful ill Were in love's contemplation when it clasped him ! Lycius and bliss made up my only thought ; But now, alas ! 56 LAMIA. A sudden truth dawns on me, like a light Through the remainder tatters of a dream, And shows my bliss in shreds. JULIUS. I pity you ! Nay, doubtless, you will be, some wretched day, A perished cast-off weed when found no flower — Or else even, then, his substance being gone. My brother's heart will break at your desertion. LAMIA. never, never ! iFenentiy. Never, by holy truth ! while I am woman Be false what may, at least my heart is honest. Look round you, sir ; this wealth, such as it is, Once mine, is now all his ; and when 'tis spent, I'll beg for him, toil for him, steal for him ! God knows how gladly I would share his lot This speaking moment in a humble shed. Like any of our peasants ! — ay, lay these hands To rude and rugged tasks, expose these cheeks You are pleased to flatter, to the ardent sun ; So we might only live in safe pure love And constant partnership — never to change In each other's hearts and eyes ! JULIUS. You mend your fault. This late fragmental virtue much redeems you ; Pray, cherish it. Hark ! what a lawless riot. lA loud boisterous shout is heard from below hope — Again ! {the noise renewed) why then this is £ triumph Of your true fame, which I had just mistaken; LAMIA. 57 Shame on thee, smooth dissembler — shame upon thee ! Is this the music of your songs of sorrow, And well-feigned penitence — lo ! here, are these Your decent retinue Enter the wild Gallants, flushed with wine. LAMIA. Sir, by heaven's verity I do not know a face ! indeed I do not ; They are strange to me as the future. CXJKIO. Then the future Must serve us better, chuck. Here, bully mates. These, lady, are my friends, and friends of Lycius ! JULIUS. Is it so ?— then Lycius is fallen indeed ! CURIO. Ay, he has had his trip — as who has not, sir ? I'll warrant you've had your stumbles. JULIUS. Once — on an ape. Get out o' the way of my shins. iGmv^. LAMIA. Sir, dearest sir. In pity do not go, for your brother's sake, If not for mine — take up my guardianship, 'Gainst these ungentle men. ishe lays iwu 0/ jmnis. JULIUS. Off, wanton, off! Would you have me of your crew, too? insAtromjUy. 58 LAMIA. GALLO. Let him go ! — He has a graft in him of that sour crab, The Apollonius — let him go, a churl ! CXJKIO. Sweet lady, you look sad — fie, it was ill done of Lycius, To leave his dove so soon — but he has some swan At nest in another place. GALLO. I'll bet my mare on't. LAMIA. Kind sirs, indeed I'm sorry Your friend's not here. If he were by, He would help you to your welcome. CURIO. We've no doubt on't ; mtteriy. But we'll not grieve, since here we are quite enough For any merriment. GALLO. And as for a welcome. We'll acknowledge it on your cheer. LAMIA. Then that's but sorry, sir, If you mean what lies in my heart. GALLO. No, no in faith. We mean what lies in your cellar — wine, rare wine, We will pledge you in floods on't, and when knocked off our legs. Adore you on our knees. LAMIA. 59 LAMIA. Hear me, sweet gentles, How you shall win my favor. Set to work and copy — Be each a Lycius. GALLO. Lycius, forsooth ! hang him ! A model again ! the perfect model. CUEIO. As if we could not match his vices ! Pray ask your Lycius, when he's new come back, (If ever he come back) What his father ailed, or if he ailed at all, And how it ailed too, that his brother Julius Got no such forged advice. GALLO. It had charmed your heart to see how swift he ran, (Whether to get from hence or gain elsewhere, I know not), but I never saw such striving, Save at the Olympic games to win the goal. (all.) Ha ! ha ! ha ! LAMIA. Laugh on, I pray, laugh on. Ye puny spites ! You think to fret me with these ill coined tales ; But look, I join in your glee, isu attempts to uugh. Or if I cannot, 'tis because I'm choked with a curse. iShe Jiwrries out. GALLO. It works ! it wings her ! What shall we next ? Follow her, or carry her off? 60 LAMIA. CURIO. These are too violent, And perilous to ourselves ; but I will fit Our revenge to its other half. Sir Lycius now Must have the green eye set in his head, and then They'll worry each other's hearts without our help. Julius or Apollonius will be our ready organs To draw his ear. GALLO. 'Tis plausible, and cannot fail to part 'em, And when he has shaken her from off his bough It needs she must fall to us. CURIO. I wonder where That poor sick fool Mercutius is gone ? He hath a chance now. GALLO. Methought I glanced him Below, and forsooth, disguised as a serving-man ; But he avoided me. CURIO. The subtle fox !_ Let us go beat him up. :Es:mnt Jutiiooin(). SCENE VI. The Street before Lamia's House. Enter Apollonius with Julius. APOLLONIUS. I say she is a snake — JULIUS. And so say I ; LAMIA. 61 APOLLONIUS. But not in the same sense — JULIUS. No, not exactly. You take that literal, which I interpret But as a parable — a figure feigned By the elder sages (much inclined to mark Their subtle meanings in dark allegories) For those poisonous natures — those bewitching sins That armed and guarded with a woman's husk. But viperous within, seduce young hearts, And sting where they are cherished APOLLONIUS. Your guess is shrewd ; Nay, excellent enough to have been my own. But, hark you, I have read in elder oracles Than ever you will quote, the fact which backs me. In Greece, in the midst of Greece, it hath been known, And attested upon oath, i' the faith of multitudes, That such true snakes have been — real hissing serpents, Though outwardly like women. With one of such, a youth, a hopeful youth. Sober, discreet, and able to subdue His passions otherwise — even like our Lycius — For a fortnight lived, in a luxury of wealth. Till suddenly she vanished, palace and all, Like the shadow of a cloud. JULIUS. The dainty fable ! But now unto the proof Methinks this sounds Like a real door {Jcnocking); a cloud scarce wars so, 62 LAMIA. But ■ffhen Jove strikes it with a thunderbolt. I'll tell you, sir, She is a wanton, and that's quite enough To perish a world of wealth. [piotb comes to tu door. Ho, sirrah ! fellow ! Is your lady now within ? PICUS. No, sir, she's out. Something hath put her out — she will see nobody. She's ill, she's grievous bad — her head won't bear The rout of company. tA loud siumt mtun. APOLLONIUS. Why, then, I think The medical conclave might observe more quiet. Look, knave ! are these her grave, her learned physicians ? W^ell met, SU'S. iAnother shouts and Cn^^Lo^etc^Usua forth, CUEIO. That's as may be. Ha ! old mastiff ! Go to your kennel. JULIUS. You are just in time, sirs. To settle our dispute : we have a gage on't, The sophist here and I. There is one lives in that house — (^pointing to Lamia's) — how would you call her ? A woman ? CUEIO. Ay ; and sure a rare one, As I have proved upon her lips. [LAiiiA opens a window gently and listens. GALLO. Ay, marry, have we ! She was kind enough, for our poor sakes, to send LAMIA. 63 One Lycius, her late suitor, on an errand That will make him footsore. CURIO. Yes, a sort of summons Cunningly forged to bid him haste to his father, Who lay in the jaws of death. Lord, how he'll swear To find the old cock quite well ! JULIUS. This is too true, ito apoliootto. I left our father but this very morn The halest of old men. He was then on his way Toward this city, on some state affair. They'll encounter upon the road ! APOLLONIUS. Here is some foul and double damned deception. [Lamia, by signs, assents to this reflection. I'll catechise myself. Here, sir — ^you — ^you — [roCuBio. Who have gazed upon this witch, touched her, and talked with her, How know you she is woman, flesh and blood. True clay and mortal lymph, and not a mockery Made up of infernal elements of magic ? Canst swear she is no cloud — no subtle ether — No fog, bepainted with deluding dyes — No cheating underplot — no covert shape, Making a filthy masquerade of nature ? I say, how know ye this ? CUEIO. How ? by my senses. If I nipped her cheek, till it brought the white and red, I wot she is no fog. 64 LAMIA. APOLLONIUS. Fie on the senses ! What are the senses but our worst arch-traitors ? What is a madman but a king betrayed By the corrupted treason of his senses ? His robe a blanket, and his sceptre a straw, His crown his bristled hair. Fie on the shallow senses ! What doth swear Such perjuries as the senses ? — what give birth To such false rumors, and base verdicts render In the very spite of truth ? Go to : thy senses Are bond-slaves, both to madness and to magic. And all the mind's disease. I say the senses Deceive thee, though they say a stone's a stone. And thou wilt swear by them an oath, forsooth. And say the outer woman is utter woman, And not a whit a snake ! Hark ! there's my answer. [Lamia closes the wmdoio violently. That noise shall be my comment. GALLO. He talks in riddles. Like a sphinx lapped in a blanket. Gentles — Curio — Let us leave him to his wisdom. APOLLONIUS. Ay, I'll promise 'Twill dive far deeper than your feather wits Into some mysteries. IGoing toward the door. CURIO. There's one I know in her house. By name Mercutius, a most savage fellow : I commend ye to his wrath. lEixunt cckio, gallo, etc. LAMIA. 65 APOLLONIUS. So, get ye gone, Ye unregarded ■whelps. JULIUS. But ■will you in, Whether she -will or no ? APOLLONIUS. Indeed I mean it. Sirrah {to Pious), lead on. I'll charge you ■with your message. [Eamnt. SCENE VII. A Chamber in Lamia's House. JSnter Mercutius in a distracted manner. MBRCUTIUS. Where is this haunting -witch ? Not here ! not here ! — Why then for a little rest and unlocked calm — Ay, such a calm As the shipmate curses on the stagnate sea Under the torrid zone, that bakes his deck Till it burns the sole of his foot. My purpose idles, But my passions burn without pause ; ho-w this hot And scarlet plague runs boiling through my veins Like a molten lava ! I'm all parched up. There's not a shady nook throughout my brain For a quiet thought to lie — no, not a spring Of coolness left in my heart. If I have any name, It is Fever, who is all made up of fire. Of pangs — deliriums — raving ecstacies- 66 LAMIA. And desperate impulse. Ha ! a foot ! — I know it ! — Now then, I'll ambush here, and come upon her Like a wild boar from a thicket. [fle hides himsel/ behind an arras : Lamia enters, IwMing her forehead betwixt her pal'ms. , LAMIA. This should be a real head, or 'twould not throb so ; Who ever doubts it ? I would he had these racking pains within ; Ay, and those he hath set in my heart, to drive him mad. How now, sir ! Enter Picus. PICXTS. There are two below beseech you For a conference. The one's a wrinkled gi-aybeard. The other— LAMIA. You need not name. I will see neither ; And tell them — look — with a copy of this frown. If they congregate again beneath xaj eaves, I have that will hush their twitting. lEait Piom. Why must I reap These unearned spites where I have sown no hate ? Do the jealous gods Stir up these cankered spirits to pursue me ? Another! (Mbrcutius comes /orward) What brings thee hither ? MERCUTius {gloomily). I do not know — If love or hate — indeed I do not know — Or whether a twine of both — they're so entangled. Mayhap to clasp thee to my heart, and kiss thee. LAMIA. 67 To fondle thee, or tear thee, I do not know : Whether I come to die, or work thy death, Whether to be thy tyrant or thy slave. In truth, I do not know. But that some potent yearnhig draws me to thee, Something, as if those lips were rich and tempting, And worthy of caressing — fondly endeared — And something as if a tortured devil within me Sought revenge of his pangs : I cannot answer Which of these brings me hither. LAMIA. Then prythee hence, Till that be analysed. MERCUTIUS. Ha ! ha ! turn back : Why if I am a tiger-^here's my prey — Or if the milk -mild dove — here is mj choice- Do you think I shall turn back howe'er it be ? Let the embrace prove which. Nay, do not shrink, If an utter devil press into thy arms, Thyself invoked him ! LAMIA. Ah ! I know by this Your bent is evil ! MEECUTIUS. Then 'twas evil born ! As it works 'twas wrought on — look — say what I am, For I have no recognizance of myself Am I wild beast or man — civil or savage — Reasoning or brutal — or gone utter mad — So am I as thou turned me — hellish or heavenly, The slavish subject of thy influence — 68 LAMIA. I know not Tvliat I am — nor how I am, But by thy own enforcement — come to force thee, Being passion-mad. LAMIA. How have I wrought hither ? I would thou wert away ! MBKCUTIUS. Why dost thou sit then I' the middle of a whirlpool drawing me unto thee ; My brain is dizzy, and my heart is sick, With the circles I have made round thee and round thee ! Till I dash into thy arms ! LAMIA. There shalt thou never ! Go I desperate man ; away ! — and fear thy gods, Or else the hot indignation in my eyes Will blast thee. 0, beware ! I have within me A dangerous nature, which if thou provoke, Acts cruelty. Ne'er chafe me ; thou had'st better Ruffle a scorpion than the thing I am ! Away ! Or I'll bind thy bones till they crack ! MERCUTIUS. Ha ! ha ! dost threaten ? Why then come ruin, anguish or death, Being goaded onward by my headlong fate I'll clasp thee ! — Though there be sugared venom on thy lips I'll drink it to the dregs — though there be plagues In thy contagious touch — or in thy breath Putrid infections — though thou be more cruel LAMIA. 69 Than lean-ribbed tigers — thirsty and open-fanged, I will be as fierce a monster for thy sake, And grapple thee. LAMIA. Would Lycius were here ! MERCUTIUS. Ha ! would'st thou have him gashed and torn in strips As I would scatter him ? then so say I " Would Lycius were here !" I have oft clenched My teeth in that very spite. LAMIA. Thou ruthless devil ! To bear him so bloody a will ! — Why then, come hither. We are a fit pair. [Meeoutitjs ffmbracing her, she stabs Aim in the hack with a &maU dagger, MERCUTIUS (falling). thou false witch ! Thou hast pricked me to the heart ! Ha ! what a film Falls fi-om my eyes !— or have the righteous gods Transformed me to a beast for this ! Thou crawling spite, Thou hideous — venomous — unes. LAMIA. Let tho word choke thee ! I know what I am. Thou wilful desperate fool To charge upon the spikes ! — thy death be upon thee ! — Why would'st thou have me sting ? Heaven knows I had spared thee, But for thy menace of a dearer life. ! Lycius ! Lycius ! I have been both woman and serpent for thy sake — 70 LAMIA. Perchance to be scorned in each : — I have but gored This ill-starred man in vain ! — hush, methought he stirred ; I'll give him another thrust {stabs the body) ■ there — lie thou quiet. What a frown he hath upon his face ! May the gods ne'er mention it In their thunders, nor set the red stain of his blood For a sign of wrath in the sky ! — thou poor wretch ! Not thee, dull clod ! — but for myself I weep — The sport of malicious destinies ! Why was I heiress of these mortal gifts Perishing all whether I love or hate ? Nay, come out of sight iTo the tody. With thy dismal puckering look — 'twill fright the world Out of its happiness. IShe drags the iody aside, and covers it with drapery. Would I could throw A thicker curtain on thee — ^but I see thee All through and through, as though I had The eyes of a god within ; alas, I fear I am here all human, and have that fierce thing, They call a conscience ! t-^^'- THE EPPING HUNT. ADVERTISEMENT, Striding in the Steps of Strutt — the historian of the old English Sports — ^the author of the following pages has endeavored to record a yearly revel, abeady fast hastening to decay. The Easter Ohase V7ill soon be numbered with the pastimes of past times : its dogs wOl have had their day, and its Deer will be Fallow. A. few more seasons, and this City Common Hunt will become uncommon. In proof of this melancholy decadence, the ensuing epistle is in- serted. It was penned by an underling at the Wells, a person more accustomed to riding than writing. "Sm, " About the Hunt. In anser to your Innqueries, tteir as been a great falling off laterally, so much so this year that there .was nobody allmost. We did a mear nothing provisionally, hardly a Bottle extra, vioh is a proof in Pint. In short our Hunt may be sad to be in the last Stag of a decline. "lam, SiE, " With respects from " Your humble Servant, *' BABTnOLOMEW RUTT." THE BPPING HUNT. *' On Monday they began to hunt." — Chevy Chase. John HuasiNS was as bold a man As trade did ever know ; A warehouse good lie had, that stood Hard by the church of Bow. There people bought Dutch cheeses round And single Glos'ter flat ; And English butter in a lump, And Irish — in a pat. Six days a week beheld him stand, His busiaess next his heart. At counter, with his apron tied About his counter-part. The seventh, in a sluice-house box He took his pipe and pot ; On Sundays, for eel-pietj, A very noted spot. Ah, blest if he had never gone Beyond its rural shed ! One Easter-tide, some evil guide Put Epping in his head ! 4 74 THE EPPING HUNT. Epping, for butter justly famed, And pork in sausage popped ; Where, -winter time or summer time. Pig's ilesh is always chopped. But famous more, as annals tell, Because of Easter chase ; There every year, 'twixt dog and deer, There is a gallant race. With Monday's sun John Huggins rose, And slapped his leather thigh. And sang the burden of the song, " This day a stag must die." For all the live-long day before, And all the night in bed. Like Beckford, he had nourished " Thoughts On Hunting" in his head. Of horn and morn, and hark and bark, And echo's answering sounds, All poets' wit hath every writ In dog-rel verse of hounds. Alas ! there was no warning voice To whisper in his ear. Thou art a fool in leaving Cheap To go and hunt the dee?- ! No thought he had of twisted spine, Or broken arms or legs ; Not chicken-hearted he, although 'Twas whispered of his eggs ! THE BPPING HUNT. 75 Ride out he would, and hunt he would, Nor dreamt of ending ill ; Mayhap with Dr. Ridoufs fee, And Surgeon Hunter's bill. So he drew on his Sunday boots. Of lustre superfine ; The liquid black they wore that day Was Warren-tei to shine. His yellow buckskins fitted close. As once upon a stag ; Thus well equipped, he gayly skipped, At once, upon his nag. But first to him that held the rein A crown he nimbly flung ; For holding of the horse? — why, no — For holding of his tongue. To say the horse was Huggins' own Would only be a brag ; His neighbor Fig and he went halves, Like Centaurs, in a nag. And he that day had got the gray, Unknown to brother cit ; The horse he knew would never tell, Although it was a tit. A well-bred horse he was, I wis, As he began to show. By quickly " rearing up within The way he ought to go." 76 THE EPPING HUNT. But Huggins, like a wary man, Was ne'er from saddle cast ; Resolved, by going very slow, On sitting very fast. And so he jogged to Tot'n'am Cross, An ancient town well known. Where Edward wept for Eleanor In mortar and in stone. A royal game of fox and goose, To play on suck a loss ; Wherever she set down her oris, Thereby he put a cross. Now Huggins had a crony here, That lived beside the way ; One that had promised sure to be His comrade for the day. Whereas the man had changed his mind Meanwhile upon the case ! And meaning not to hunt at all, Had gone to Enfield Chase ! For why, his spouse had made him vow To let a game alone, Where folks that ride a bit of blood May break a bit of bone. " Now, be his wife a plague for life ! A coward sure is he !" Then Huggins turned his horse's head, And crossed the bridge of Lea. THE EPPING HUNT. 77 Thence slowly on through Laytonstone, Past many a Quaker's box — No friends to hunters after deer, Though followers of a Fox. And many a score behind — before — The self-same route inclined ; And minded all to march one way, Made one great march of mind. Gentle and simple, he and she, And swell, and blood, and prig ; And some had carts, and some a chaise. According to their gig. Some long-eared jacks, some knacker's hacks (However odd it sounds), Let out that day to hunt, instead Of going to the hounds ! And some had horses of their own. And some were forced to job it : And some, while they inclined to Hunt, Betook themselves to Coh-it. All sorts of vehicles and vans, Bad, middling, and the smart ; Here rolled along the gay barouche, And there a dirty cart ! And lo ! a cart that held a squad Of costermonger line ; With one poor hack, like Pegasus, That slaved for all the Nine ! 78 THE EPPING HUNT. Yet marvel not at any load That any horse might drag ; When all, that morn, at once were drawn Together by a stag. Now when they saw John Huggins go At such a sober pace ; "Hallo!" cried they; "come, trot away. You'll never see the chase !" But John, as grave as any judge. Made answer quite as blunt ; " It will be time enough to trot. When I begin to hunt !" And so he paced to Woodford Wells, Where many a horseman met, And letting go the reins, of course. Prepared for heavy wet. And lo ! within the crowded door.. Stood Bounding, jovial elf ; Here shall the Muse frame no excuse. But frame the man himself. A snow-white head, a merry eye, A cheek of jolly blush ; A claret tint laid on by health. With master reynard's brush ; A hearty frame, a courteous bow, The prince he learned it from ; His age about three-score and ten. And there you have Old Tom. THE EPPING HUNT. 79 In merriest key I trow was he, So many guests to boast ; So certain congregations meet, And elevate the host. " Now welcome, lads," quoth he, " and prads, You're all in glorious luck : Old Robin has a run to-day, A noted forest buck. Fair Mead's the place, where Bob and Tom, In red already ride ; 'Tis but a step, and on a horse, You soon may go a stride." So off they scampered, man and horse. As time and temper pressed — But Huggins, hitching on a tree. Branched off from all the rest. Howbeit he tumbled down in time To join with Tom and Bob, All in Fair Mead, which held that day Its own fair meed of mob. Idlers to wit — no Guardians some. Of Tattlers in a squeeze ; Ramblers in heavy carts and vans, Spectators, up in trees. Butchers on backs of butchers' hacks, That shambled to and fro ! . Bakers intent upon a buck. Neglectful of the dough ! 80 THE EPPING HUNT. Change Alley bears to speculate, As usual, for a fall ; And green and scarlet runners, such As never climbed a wall ! 'Twas strange to think what difference A single creature made ; A single stag had caused a whole Stagnation in their trade. Now Huggins from his saddle rose. And in the stirrups stood ; And lo ! a little cart that came Hard by a little wood. In shape like half a hearse — though not For corpses in the least ; For this contained the deer alive, And not the dear deceased ! And now began a sudden stir, And then a sudden shout. The prison doors were opened wide, And Robin bounded out ! His antlered head shone blue and red, Bedecked with ribbons fine ; Like other bucks that comes to 'list The hawbucks in the line. One curious gaze of mild amaze, He turned and shortly took : Then gently ran adown the mead, And bounded o'er the brook. THE EPPING HUNT. 81 Now Huggins, standing far aloof, Had never seen the deer, Till all at once he saw the beast Come charging in his rear. Away he went, and many a score Of riders did the same. On horse and ass — like high and low And Jack pursuing game ! Good lord ! to see the riders now, Thrown off with sudden whirl, A score within the purling brook. Enjoyed their " early purl." A score were sprawling on the grass, And beavers fell in showers ; There was another Floorer there, Beside the Queen of Flowers ! Some lost their stirrups, some their whips. Some had no caps to show ; But few, like Charles at Charing Cross, Rode on in Statue quo. " dear ! dear !" now might you hear, "I've surely broke a bone ;" " My head is sore" — with many more Such speeches from the thrown. Howbeit their wailings never moved The wide Satanic clan, Who grinned, as once the Devil grinned, To see the fall of Man. 4* 82 THE EPPING HUNT. And hunters good, that understood, Their laughter knew no hounds, To see the horses " throwing off," So long before the hounds. For deer must have due course of law, Like men the Courts among ; Before those Barristers the dogs Proceed to " giving tongue." But now Old Robin's foes were set That fatal taint to find. That always is scent after him. Yet always left behind. And here observe how dog and man A different temper shows : What hound resents that he is sent To follow his own nose ? Towler and Jowler — howlers all, No single tongue was mute ; The stag had led a hart, and lo ! The whole pack followed suit. No spur he lacked ; fear stuck a knife And fork in either haunch ; And every dog he knew had got An eye-tooth to his paunch ! Away, away ! he scudded like A ship before the gale ; Now flew to " hills we know not of," Now, nun-like, took the vale. THE EPPINH HUNT. 83 Another squadron charging now, "Went off at furious pitch ; — A perfect Tarn O'Shanter mob, Without a single witch. But who was he with flying skirts, A hunter did endorse, And, like a poet, seemed to ride Upon a winged horse ? A whipper-in ? no whipper-in : A huntsman ? no such soul : A connoisseur, or amateur ? Why, yes — a Horse Patrole. A member of police, for whom The county found a nag, And, like Acteon in the tale. He found himself in stag ! Away they went, then, dog and deer, And hunters all away ; The maddest horses never knew Mad staggers such as they ! Some gave a shout, some rolled about, And anticked as they rode ; And butchers whistled on their curs. And milkmen tally-hoi' d ! About two score there were, and more, That gallopped in the race ; The rest, alas ! lay on the grass. As once in Chevy Chase ! 84 THE EPPING HUNT. But even those that gallopped on Were fewer every minute ; The field kept getting more select, Each thicket served to thin it. For some pulled up, and left the hunt. Some fell in miry bogs, And vainly rose and " ran a muck," To overtake the dogs. And some, in charging hurdle stakes, Were left bereft of sense ; What else could be premised of blades That never learned to fence ? But Roundings, Tom and Bob, no gate, Nor hedge, nor ditch could stay ; O'er all they went, and did the work Of leap-years in a day ! And by their side see Huggins ride. As fast as he could speed ; For, like Mazeppa, he was quite At mercy of his steed. No means he had, by timely check, The gallop to remit, For firm and fast, between his teeth. The biter held the bitt. Trees raced along, all Essex fled Beneath him as he "sate ; He never saw a county go At such a county rate ! THE EPPINS HUNT. 85 " Hold hard ! hold hard ! you'll lame tUe dogs !" Quoth Huggins, " so I do; I've got the saddle well in hand, And hold as hard as you !" Good lord ! to see him ride along, And throw his arms ahout, As if with stitches in the side That he was drawing out ! And now he bounded up and down, Now like a jelly shook ; Till bumped and galled — yet not where Gall For bumps did ever look ! And rowing with his legs the while, As tars are apt to ride ; With every kick he gave a prick Deep in the horse's side ! But soon the horse was well avenged For cruel smart of spurs, For, riding through a moor, he pitched His master in a furze ! Where, sharper set than hunger is, He squatted all forlorn ; And, like a bird, was singing out While sitting on a thorn ! Right glad was he, as well might be, Such cushion to resign : " Possession is nine points," but his Seems more than ninety-nine. 86 THE EPPING HUNT. Yet worse than all the prickly points That entered in his skin, His nag was running off the while The thorns were running in ! Now had a Papist seen his sport, Thus laid upon the shelf, Although no horse he had to cross, He might have crossed himself. Yet surely still the wind is ill That none can say is fair ; A jolly wight there was, that rode Upon a sorry mare ! A sorry mare, that surely came Of pagan blood and bone ; For down upon her knees she went To many a stock and stone ! Now seeing Huggins' nag adrift, This farmer, shrewd and sage. Resolved, by changing horses here, To hunt another stage ! Though felony, yet who would let Another's horse alone, Whose neck is placed in jeopardy By riding on his own ? And yet the conduct of the man Seemed honest-like and fair ; For he seemed willing, horse and all. To go before the mare ! THE BPPING HUNT. 87 So up on Huggins horse he got, And swiftly rode away, While Huggins' mounted on the mare Done broTvn upon a bay ! And off they set in double chase. For such was fortune's whim, The Farmer rode to hunt the stag, And Huggins hunted him ! % Alas ! with one that rode so well In vain it was to strive ; A dab was he, as dabs should be — All leaping and alive ! And here of Nature's kindly care Behold a curious proof, As nags are meant to leap, she puts A frog in every hoof! Whereas the mare, although her share She had of hoof and frog. On coming to a gate stopped short As stiff as any log ; While Huggins in the stirrup stood With neck like neck of crane, As sings the Scottish song — " to see The gate his hart had gane." And, lo ! the dim and distant hunt Diminished in a trice : The steeds, like Cinderella's team, Seemed dwindling into mice ; THE EPPING HUNT. And, far remote, each scarlet coat Soon flitted like a spark — Though still the forest murmured back An echo of the bark ! But sad at soul John Huggins turned : No comfort could he find ; While thus the " Hunting Chorus" sped, To stay five bars behind. For though by dint of spur he got A leap in spite of fate — Howbeit there was no toll at all, They could not clear the gate. And, like Fitzjames, he cursed the hunt. And sorely cursed the day. And mused a new Gray's elegy On his departed gray. Now many a sign at Woodford town Its Inn-yitation tells : But Huggins, full of ills, of course Betook him to the Wells, Where Rounding tried to cheer him up With many a merry laugh : But Huggins thought of neighbor Fig, And called for half-and-half Yet, spite of drink, he could not blink Remembrance of his loss ; To drown a care like his, required Enough to drown a horse. THE EPPING HUNT. 89 When thus forlorn, a merry horn Struck up without the door — The mounted mob were all returned ; The Epping Hunt was o'er ! And many a horse was taken out Of saddle, and of shaft ; And men, by dint of drink, became The only " beasts of draught." For now begun a harder run On wine, and gin, and beer ; And overtaken men discussed The overtaken deer. How far he ran, and eke how fast, And how at bay he stood. Deerlike,' resolved to sell his life As dearly as he could : — And how the hunters stood aloof, Regardful of their lives, And shunned a beast, whose very horns They knew could handle knives ! How Huggins stood when he was rubbed By help and ostler kind. And when they cleaned the clay before, How worse " remained behind." And one, how he had found a horse Adrift — a goodly gray ! And kindly rode the nag, for fear The nag should go astray ; 90 THE BPPING HUNT. Now Huggins, wten he heard the tale, Jumped up with sudden glee ; "A goodly gray ! why, then, I say, That gray belongs to me ! " Let me endorse again my horse, Delivered safe and sound ; And, gladly, I will give the man A bottle and a pound !" The wine was drunk — the money paid, Though not without remorse. To pay another man so much For riding on his horse ; — And let the chase again take place For many a long, long year^^ John Huggins will not ride again To hunt the Epping Deer ! MORAL. Thus Pleasure oft eludes our grasp Just when we think to grip her ; And hunting after Happiness, We only hunt a slipper. ADVERTISEMENT TO THE SECOND EDITION. The publisher begs leave to say, that he has had the following let- \tiV trom the author of this little book : — " I am much gratified to learn from you, that the Epping Hunt has had such a run, that it is quite exhausted, and that you intend therefore to give the work what may be called " second loind" by a new impression. I attended the last Anniversary of the Festival, and am concerned to say that the sport does not improve, but appears an ebbing as well as Epping custom. The run was miserable indeed ; but what was to be expected ? The chase was a Doe, and, conse- quently, the Hunt set off with the Rind part before. It was, therefore, quite in char- acter, for so many Nimrodd to start, as they did, before the hounds, but which as you know, is quite contrary to the Less Tallyho-nis, or Laws of Hunting. I dined with the Master of the Revel, who is as hale as ever, and promises to reside some time in the WclU ere he Mcks the bucket. He is an honest, hearty, worthy man, and when he dies thwb will be "a cry of dogs" in his kennel. I am, Dear Sir, Yours, &c., Winchmore Bill, Jun«, i830. T. HOOD. POEMS OF SENTIMENT. aUIDO AND MARINA. A DRAMATIC SKETCH. [GunJO, having given himself up to the pernicious study of magic and astrology, casts his nativity, and resolves that at a certain hour of a certain day he is to die. MABnrA, to wean Mm from this fatal delusion, which hath gradually wasted him away, even to the verge of death, advances the hour-hand of the clock. He is sup- posed to be seated beside her in the garden of his palace at Venice.] Cfuido. Clasp me again ! My soul is very sad ; And hold thy lips in readiness near mine, Lest I die suddenly. Clasp me again ! 'Tis such a gloomy day ! Mar. Nay, sweet, it shines. Guido. Nay, then, these mortal clouds are in mine eyes. Clasp me again ! — ay, with thy fondest force, Grive me one last embrace. Mar. Love, I do clasp thee ! Guido. Then closer — closer — for I feel thee not ; Unless thou art this pain around my heart. Thy lips at such a time should never leave me. Mar. What pain — what time, love ? Art thou ill? Alas'. I see it in thy cheek. Come, let me nurse thee. Here, rest upon my heart. Guido. Stay, stay, Marina. Look ! — ^when I raise my hand against the sun. Is it red with blood ? Mar. Alas ! my love, what wilt thou ? 96 GUIDO AND MARINA. Thy hand is red — and so is mine — all hands Show thus against the sun. Guido. All living men's, Marina, but not mine. Hast never heard How death first seizes on the feet and hands, And thence goes freezing to the very heart ? Mar. Yea, love I know it ; but -what then ? — the hand I hold, is glowing. Guido. But my eyes ! — my eyes ! — Look there, Marina — -there is death's own sign. I have seen a corpse. E'en when its clay was cold, would still have seemed Alive, but for the eyes — such deadly eyes ! So dull and dim ! Marina, look in mine ! Mar. Ay, they are dull. No, no — ^not dull, but bright I see myself within them. Now, dear love, Discard these horrid fears that make me weep. Guido. Marina, Marina — where thy image lies. There must be brightness — or perchance they glance And glimmer like the lamp before it dies. Oh, do not vex my soul with hopes impossible ! My hours are ending. iciock strikes. Mar. N^^J) they shall not ! Hark ! The hour — four — five — hark ! — six ! — the very time ! And, lo ! thou art alive ! My love — dear love — Now cast this cruel phantasm from thy brain — This wilful, wild delusion — east it off! The hour is come — and gone ! What ! not a word ! What, not a smile, even, that thou livest for me ! Come, laugh and clap your hands as I do — come. Or kneel with me, and thank th' eternal God For this blest passover ! Still sad ! still mute ! — Oh, why art thou not glad, as I am glad. GTJIDO AND MAEINA. 97 That death forbears thee ? Nay, hath all my love Been spent in vain, that thou art sick of life ? Guido. Marina, I am no more attached to death Than Fate hath doomed me. I am his elect, That even now forestalls thy little light, And steals with cold infringement on my breath : Already he bedims my spiritual lamp. Not yet his due — ^not yet — quite yet, though Time, Perchance, to warn me, speaks before his wont : Some minutes' space my blood has still to flow — Some scanty breath is left me still to spend In very bitter sighs. But there's a point, true measured by my pulse. Beyond or short of which it may not live By one poor throb. Marina, it is near. Mar. Oh, God of heaven ! Guido. Ay, it is very near. Therefore, cling now to me, and say farewell While I can answer it. Marina, speak ! Why tear thine helpless hair ? it will not save Thy heart from breaking, nor pluck out the thought That stings thy brain. Oh, surely thou hast known This truth too long to look so like Despair ? Mar. 0, no, no, no ! — a hope — a little hope — I had erewhile — ^but I have heard its knell. Oh, would my life were measured out with thine — All my years numbered — all my days, my hours. My utmost minutes, all summed up with thine ! Guido. Marina — Mar. Let me weep — no, let me kneel To God — ^but rather thee — to spare this end That is so wilful. Oh, for pity's sake ! Pluck back thy precious spirit from these clouds 5 98 GUIDO AND MAEINA. That smother it with death. Oh ! turn from death, And do not woo it with such dark resolve, To make me widowed. Guido. I have lived my term. Mar. No — not thy term — not the natural term Of one so young. Oh ! thou hast spent thy years In sinful waste upon unholy — Guido. Hush ! Marina. Mar. Nay, I must. Oh ! cursed lore, That hath supplied this spell against thy life. Unholy learning — devilish and dark — Study ! — God ! God ! — how can thy stars Be bright with such black knowledge ? Oh, that men Should ask more light of them than guides their steps At evening to love ! Guido. Hush, hush, oh hush ! Thy words have pained me in the midst of pain. Trtie, if I had not read, I should not die ; For, if I had not read, I had not been. All our acts of life are pre-ordained. And each pre-acted, in our several spheres, By ghostly duplicates. They sway our deeds By their performance. What if mine hath been To be a prophet and foreknow my doom ? If I had closed my eyes, the thunder then Had roared it in my ears ; my own mute brain Had told it with a tongue. What must be, must. Therefore I knew when my full time would fall ; And now — to save thy widowhood of tears — To spare the very breaking of thy heart, I may not gain even a brief hour's reprieve ! What seest thou yonder ? GUIDO AND MARINA. 99 Mar. Where ? — a tree — the sun Smking behind a tree. Guido. It is no tree, Marina, but a shape — ^the awful shape That comes to claim me. Seest thou not his shade Darken before his steps ? Ah me ! how cold It comes against my feet ! Cold, icy cold ! And blacker than a pall. Mar. My lore 1 Guido. Oh, heaven And earth, where are ye ? Marina — [Onmo dies. Mar. I am here ! What wilt thou? dost thou speak ? — Methought I heard thee Just whispering. He is dead ! — God ! he's dead ! FAREWELL TO THE SWALLOWS. Swallows, sitting on the eaves, See ye not the falling leaves ? See ye not the gathered sheaves ? Farewell ! Is it not time to go To that fair land ye know ? The breezes, as they swell, Of coming winter tell. And from the trees shake down The brown And withered leaves. Farewell 1 Swallows, it is time to fly ; See ye not the altered sky ? Know ye not that winter's nigh ? Farewell ! Go, fly in noisy bands, To those far distant lands Of gold, and pearl, and shell, And gem (of which they tell In books of travel strange), And range In happiness. Farewell ! FAREWELL TO THE SWALLOWS. 101 Swallows, on your pinions glide O'er the restless, rolling tide Of the ocean deep and wide. Farewell ! In groves, far, far away, In summer's sunny ray, In warmer regions dwell ; And then return to tell Strange tales of foreign lands • In bands. Perched on the eaves ! Farewell ! Swallows, t could almost pray That I, like you, might fly away ; And to each coming evil say Farewell ! Yet, 'tis my fate to live Here, and with troubles strive; And I some day may tell How they before me fell. Conquered ; then calmly die, And cry — -" Trials and toils, farewell !" STANZAS TO TOM WOODGATE; OF HASTINGS. Tom ! — are you still withta this land Of livers — still on Hastings' sand, Or roaming on the waves ; Or has some billow o'er you rolled, Jealous that earth should lap so bold A seaman in her graves ? On land the rush-light lives of men Go out but slowly ; nine in ten, By tedious long decline — Not so the jolly sailor sinks, Who founders in the wave, and drinks The apoplectic brine ! Ay, while I write, mayhap your head Is sleeping on an oyster-bed — I hope .'tis far from truth ! — With periwinkle eyes ; — your bone Beset with mussels, not your own. And corals, at your tooth ! STANZAS TO TOM WOODGATB. 103 Still does the Chance pursue the chance The main affords — the Aidant dance In safety on the tide ? Still flies that sign of my good-will A little hunting thing — but still To thee a flag of pride ? Does that hard, honest hand now clasp The tiller in its careful grasp — With every summer breeze When ladies sail, in lady-fear — Or, tug the oar, a gondolier On smooth Macadam seas ? Or are you where the flounders keep, Some dozen briny fathoms deep, Where sand and shells abound — With some old Triton on your chest, And twelve grave mermen for a 'quest, To find that you are — drowned ? Swift is the wave, and apt to bring A sudden doom — perchance I sing A mere funereal strain ; ■ You have endured the utter strife — And are — the same in death or life, A good man in the main ! Oh, no — I hope the old brown eye Still watches ebb, and flood, and sky ; That still the old brown shoes Are sucking brine up — pumps indeed I Your tooth still full of ocean weed. Or Indian — which you choose. 104 STANZAS TO TOM WOOD SATE. I like you, Tom ! and in these lays Give honest ■vrorth its honest praise, No puff at honor's cost ; For though you met these words of mine, All letter-learning was a line You, somehow, never crossed ! Mayhap we ne'er shall meet again, Except on that Pacific main, Beyond this planet's brink ; Yet as we erst have braved the weather, Still may we float awhile together. As comrades on this ink ! Many a scudding gale we've had Together, and, my gallant lad, Some perils we have passed ; When huge and black the wave careered, And oft the giant surge appeared The master of our mast : — 'Twas thy example taught me how To climb the billow's hoary brow, Or cleave the raging heap — To bound along the ocean wild, With danger only as a child, The waters rocked to sleep. Oh, who can tell that brave delight, To see the hissing wave in might, Come rampant like a snake ! To leap his horrid crest, and feast One's eyes upon the briny beast. Left couchant in the wake ! STANZAS TO TOM WOODGATB. 105 The simple shepherd's love is still To bask upon a sunny hill, The herdsman roams the vale — With both their fancies I agree ; Be mine the swelling, scooping sea, That is both hill and dale ! I yearn for that brisk spray — I yearn To feel the wave from stem to stern Uplift the plunging keel; That merry step we used to dance On board the Aidant or the Chance, The ocean ' toe and heel.' I long to feel the steady gale That fills the broad distended sail — The seas on either hand ! My thought, like any hollow shell, Keeps mocking at my ear the swell Of waves against the land. It is no fable — that old strain Of syrens ! — so the witching main Is singing — and I sigh ! My heart is all at once inclined To seaward — and I seem to find The waters in my eye ! Methinks I see the shining beach ; The merry waves, each after each, Rebounding o'er the flints ; I spy the grim preventive spy ! The jolly boatmen standing nigh ! The maids in mornina; chintz ! 106 STANZAS TO TOM WOODGATE. And there they float — the sailing craft! The sail is up— the wind abaft — The ballast trim and neat. Alas ! 'tis all a dream — a lie I A printer's imp is standing by, To haul my mizzen sheet ! My tiller dwindles to a pen — My craft is that of bookish men — My sale — ^let Longman tell I Adieu, the wave, the wind, the spray I Men — ^maidens — chintzes — fade away I Tom Woodgate, fare thee well ! M O EE ODES AND ADDRESSES GEBAT PEOPLE, ODES. ODE TO N. A. VIGORS, ESQ.,i ON THE PUBLICATION OF " THE GARDENS AND MENAGERIE OF THE ZOOLOGICAL SOCIETY." " Give you good den." — Shakebpeaee. So Mr. v., —no Vigors — I beg pardon^ — You've published your Zoological Garden ! A book of which I've heard a deal of talk, And your Menagerie — indeed, 'tis bad o' me, But I have never seen your Beast Academy ! Or set my feet In Brute-on street, Or ever wandered in your " Bird-cage Walk." Yet, I believe that you were truly born To be a kind of brutal overseer, And, like the royal quarterings, appear Between a lion and a unicorn : There is a sort of reason about rhyme That I have pondered many, many a time ; Where words, like birds of feather, Likely to come together, Are quite prophetically made to chime ; 110 ODE TO N. A. VIGORS, ESQ. So your own office is forestalled, Vigors ! Your proper Sirname having but one single Appropriate jingle, Tigers ! Where is your gardening volume ! like old Mawe's ! Containing rules for cultivating brutes, Like fruits. Through April, May, or June, As thus — now rake your Lions' manes, and prune Your Tigers' claws ; About the middle of the month, if fair. Give your Chameleons air ; Choose shady walls for Owls, "Water your Fowls, And plant your Leopards in the sunniest spots ; Earth up your Beavers ; train your Bears to climb ; Thin out your Elephants about this time ; And set some early Kangaroos in pots. In some warm sheltered place, Prepare a hot-bed for the Boa race, Leaving them room to swell ; Prick out your Porcupines ; and blanch your Ermine ; Stick up Opossums ; trim your Monkeys well ; And " destroy all vermin." Oh, tell me, Mr. Vigors I for the fleas Of curiosity begin to tease — If they bite rudely I must crave your pardon, But if a man may ask. What is the task You have to do ia this exotic garden ? ODE TO N. A. VIGOES, ESQ. Ill If from your title one may guess your ejads, You are a sort of Secretary Bird To write home word From ignorant brute-beasts to absent friends. Does ever the poor little Coatamondi Beg you to write to ma' To ask papa To send him a new suit to wear on Sunday ? Does Mrs. L. request you'll be so good — Acting a sort of Urban to Sylvanus — As write to her " two children in the wood," Addressed — post-paid — to Leo Africanus ? Does ever the great Sea-Bear Londinensis Make you amanuensis To send out news to some old Arctic stager — " Pray write, that Brother Bruin on the whole Has got a head on this day's pole, And say my Ursa has been made a Major?" Do you not write dejected letters — very — Describing England for poor " Happy Jerry," Unlike those emigrants who take in flats. Throwing out New South Wales for catching sprats ? Of course your penmanship you ne'er refuse For "begging letters" from poor Kangaroos ; Of course you manage bills, and their acquittance, And sometimes pen for Pelican a double Letter to Mrs. P., and brood in trouble. Enclosing a small dab, as a remittance ; Or send from Mrs. B. to her old cadger. Her full-length, done by Harvey, that rare draughtsman, And skillful craftsman, A game one too, for he can draw a Badger. 112 ODE TO N. A. VIGOKS, ESQ. Does Doctor Bennett never come and trouble you To break the death of Wolf to Mrs. W. ? To say poor Buffalo his last has puffed, And died quite suddenly, -without a will. Soothing the widow with a tender quill, And gently hinting — " would she like him stuffed ?" Does no old sentimental Monkey weary Your hand at times to Tent his scribbling itch ? And then your pen must answer to the query Of Dame Giraffe, who has been told her deary Died on the spot — and wishes to know which ? New candidates meanwhile your help are waiting — To fill up cards of thanks, with due refinement. For Missis 'Possum, after her confinement ; To pen a note of pretty Poll's dictating — Or write how Charles the Tenth's departed reign Disquiets the crowned Crane, And all the royal Tigers ; To send a bulletin to brother Asses Of Zebra's health, what sort of night he passes ; — Is this your duty. Secretary Vigors ? Or are your brutes but Garden-brutes indeed, Of the old shrubby breed, Dragons of holly — Peacocks cut m yew ? But no — I've seen your book, And all the creatures look Like real creatures, natural and true ! Keady to prowl, to growl, to prey, to fight, Thanks be to Harvey who their portraits drew, And to the cutters praise is justly due. To Branston always, arid to always Wright. ' Go on then, publishing your Monthly parts, ODE TO JOSEPH HUME, ESQ. 113 And let the wealthy crowd, The noble and the proud, Learn of brute beasts to patronise the Arts. So may your Household flourish in the Park, And no long Boa go to his long home, No Antelope give up the vital spark, JBut all, with this your scientific tome, Go on as swimmingly as old Noah's Ark ! ODE TO JOSEPH HUME, ESQ., M. P.2 "Ilisped in numbers, for the numbers came." Oh, Mr. Hume, thy name Is travelling post upon the road to fame, With four fast horses and two sharp postillions ; Thy reputation Has friends by numeration, Units, Tens, Hundreds, Thousands, Millions. Whenever public men together dine. They drink to thee With three times three — That's nine. And oft a votary proposes then To add unto the cheering one cheer more— ^ Nine and One are Ten ; Or somebody for thy honor still more keen. Insists on four times four — Sixteen ! In Parliament no star shines more or bigger. And yet thou dost not care to cut a figure ; Equally art thou eloquent and able, Whether in showing how to serve the nation 114 ODE TO JOSEPH HUME, ESQ. Or laying its petitions on the Table Of Multiplication. In motion thou art second unto none, Though Fortune on thy motions seems to frown, For though you set a number down You seldom carry one. Great at a speech thou art, though some folks cough. But thou art greatest at s, paring off. But never blench. Although in stirring up corruption's worms You make some factions Vulgar as certain fractions. Almost reduced unto their lowest terms. Go on, reform, diminish, and retrench ; Go on, for ridicule not caring ; Sift on from one to nine with all their noughts. And make state cyphers eat up their own aughts. And only in thy saving be unsparing ; At soldiers' uniforms make awful rackets. Don't trim though, but untrim their jackets. Allow the tin mines no tin tax, Cut off the Great Seal's wax ; Dock all the dock-yards, lower masts and sails, Search foot by foot the Infantry's amounts. Look into all the Cavalry's accounts, And crop their horses' tails. Look well to Vf oolwich and each money vote. Examine all, the cannons' charges well. And those who found th' Artillery compel To forge twelve pounders for a five pound note. Watch Sandhurst too, its debts and its Cadets — Those Military pets. ODE TO JOSEPH HUME, ESQ. 115 Take Army — no, take Leggy Tailors Down to the Fleet, for no one but a nincum Out of our nation's narrow income Would furnish such wide trowsers to the Sailors. Next take, to wonder him, The Master of the Horse's horse from under him ; ' Retrench from those who tend on Royal ills Wherewith to gild their pills. And tell the Stag-hound's Master he must keep The deer, &c., cheap. Close as new brooms Scrub the Bed Chamber Grooms ; Abridge the Master of the Ceremonies Of his very moneys ; In short, at eyery salary have a pull. And when folks come for pay On quarter-day. Stop half, and make them give receipts in full. Oh, Mr. Hume, don't drink, Or eat, or sleep, a wink, Till you have argued over each reduction : Let it be food to you, repose and suction ; . Though you should make more motions by one half Than any telegraph, Itetn by item all these things enforce. Be on your legs till lame, and talk till hoarse ; Have lozenges — mind, Dawson's — in your pocket. And swing your arms till aching in their socket ; Or if awake you cannot keep, Talk of retrenchment in your sleep ; Expose each Peachum, and show up each Lockit — 116 ODE TO SPENCER PEECIVAL, ESQ. Go down to the M.P.'s before you sup, And while they're sitting blow them up, As Gruy Fawkes could not do with all his nous ; But now we lire in different Novembers, And safely you may walk into the House, First split its ears, and then divide its members ! ODE TO SPENCER PERCIVAL, ESQ., M. P.s Oh Mr. Spencer ! — I mean no offence, sir — Retrencher of each trencher, man or woman's ; Maker of days of ember, Eloquent member Of the House of Com — I mean to say short commons- Thou Long Tom Coffin singing out, "Hold Fast" — Avast ! Oh, Mr. Percival, I'll bet a dollar, a Great growth of cholera, And new deaths reckoned, Will mark thy Lenten twenty-first and second. The best of physicians, when they con it, Depose the malady is in the air : Oh, Mr. Spencer — if the ill is there — Why should you bid the people live upon it ? Why should you make discourses against courses ; While Doctors, though they bid us rub and chafe, Declare, of all resources. The man is safest who gets in the safe ? And yet you bid poor suicidal sinners Discard their dinners, ODE TO ADMIRAL GAMBIEE. 117 Thoughtless how Heaven above will look upon't, For men to die so wantonly of want ! By way of variety, Think of the ineffectual piety Of Lon(^n's Bishop, at St. Faith's or Bride's, Lecturing such chameleon insides, Only to find He's preaching to the wind. Whatever others do or don't, I cannot — dare not — must not fast and won't, Unless by night your day you let me keep, And fast asleep ; My constitution can't obey such censors ; I must have meat Three times a day to eat, My health's of such a sort — To say the truth in short — The coats of my stomach are not Spencers ! ODE TO ADMIRAL GAMBIER, G.C.B.* " Well, if you reclaim such, as Hood, your Society -will deserve the thanks of the country," — TEMPEEiNOE Society's Heeald, vol. i., No. 1, p. 8. *' My father, when last I from Gruinea Came home with abundance of wealth, Said, ' Jack, never be such a ninny As to drink — '' says I, * Father, your health ? ' " Nothing like Grog. Oh ! Gam — I dare not mention bier In STicli a temperate ear — Oh ! Admiral Gam — an admiral of the Blue, Of course to read the Navy List aright, 118 ODE XO ADMIEAL GAMBIEE. For strictly shunning wine of either hue, You can't be Admiral of the Red or White : — Oh, Admiral Gam ! consider ere you call On merry Englishmen to -wash their throttles "With water only ; and to break their bottles To stick, for fear of trespass, on the wall , Of Exeter Hall ! Consider, I beseech, the contrariety Of cutting off our brandy, gin, and rum, And then, by tracts, inviting us to come And " mix in your society !" In giving rules to dine, or sup, or lunch. Consider Nature's ends before you league us To strip the Isle of Rum of all its punch — To dock the Isle of Mull of all its negus — Or doom — ^to suit your milk and water view — The Isle of Sky to nothing but sky-blue ! Consider — for appearance' sake — consider The sorry figure of a spirit-ridder. Going on this crusade against the suttler ; A sort of Hudibras — without a Butler ! Consider — ere you break the ardent spirits Of father, mother, brother, sister, daughter ; What are your beverage's washy merits ? Gin may be low — ^but I have known low- water ! Consider well, before you thus deliver, With such authority, your sloppy cannon ; Should British tars taste nothing but the river, Because the Chesapeake once fought the Shannon ! ODE TO ADMIEAL GAMBIEE. 119 Consider too — ^before all Eau-de-vie, Schiedam, or other drinkers, you rebut — To bite a bitten dog all curs agree ; But who would cut a man because he's cut ? Consider — ere you bid the poor to fill Their murmuring stomach with the " murmuring rill" — ■ Consider that their streams are not like ours, Eeflecting heaven, and margined by sweet flowers ; On their dark pools by day no sun reclines, By night no Jupiter, no Venus shines ; Consider life's sour taste, that bids them mix Rum with Acheron, or gin with Styx ; If you must pour out water to the poor, oh ! Let it be aqua d'oro ! Consider — ere as furious as a griffin, Against a glass of grog you make such work, A man may like a stiffun. And yet not be a Burke ! Consider, too, before you bid all skinkers Turn water-drinkers, What sort of fluid fills their native rivers ; Their Mudiboos, and Niles, and Guadalquivers. How should you like, yourself, in glass or mug, The Bog— the Bug— The Maine — the Weser — or that freezer, Neva ? Nay, take the very rill of classic ground — Lord Byron found E'en Castaly the better for Geneva. Consider — if to vote Reform's arrears, His Majesty should please to make you peers, 120 ODE TO SIB, ANDREW AGNEW, BART. Your titles ■would be very far from trumps, To figure in a book of blue and red : — ■ The Duke of Draw-well — Avhat a name to dread ! Marquis of Main-pipe ! Earl New-River-Head ! And Temperance's chief, the Prince of Pumps ! ODE TO SIR ANDREW AGNEW, BAET.'^ ' At certain Beasons he makes a prodigious clattering with hie bill." — Selbt. ■' The hill is rather long, flat, and tinged with green." — Bewick. Andrew Fairservice — ^but I beg pardon, You never labored in Di Vernon's garden, On curly kale and cabbages intent — Andrew Churchservice was the thing I meant : You are a Christian — I would be the same, Although we differ, and I'll tell you why. Not meaning to make game, 1 do not like my Church so very High ! When people talk, as talk they will. About your bill, They say, among their other jibes and small jeers, That, if you had your way, You'd make the seventh day As overbearing as the Dey of Algiers. Talk of converting Blacks — By your attacks. You make a thing so horrible of one day, Each nigger, they will bet a something tidy, Would rather be a heathenish Man Friday, Than your Man Sunday ! ODE TO SIR ANDREW AGNEW, BART. I2l So poor men speak, Who, once a week. Perhaps, after weaving artificial flowers, Can snatch a glance of Nature's kinder bowers, And revel in a bloom That is not of the loom. Making the earth, the streams, the skies, the trees, A Chapel of Ease. Whereas, as you would plan it, Walled in with hard Scotch granite. People all day should look to their behaviors ; — Eut though there be, as Shakspeare owns, " Sermons in stones," Zounds ! would you have us work at them like paviors ? Spontaneous is pure devotion's fire ; And in a green wood many a soul has built A new Church, with a fir-tree for its spire. Where Sin has prayed for peace, and wept for guilt. Better than if an architect the plan drew ; We know of old how medicines were backed, But true Religion needs not to be quacked By an Un-merry Andrew ! Suppose a poor town- weary sallow elf At Primrose-hill would renovate himself, Or drink (and no great harm) Milk genuine at Chalk Farm ; The innocent intention who would baulk, And drive him back into St. Bennet Fink ? For my part, for my life, I cannot think A walk on Sunday is " the Devil's Walk." G 122 ODE TO SIE ANDREW AGNBW, BART. But there's a sect of Deists, and their cree4 Is D — ing other people to be d — d ; Yea, all that are not of their saintly level, They make a pious point To send, with an " aroint," Down to that great Fillhellenist, the Devil. To such, a ramble by the River Lea, Is really treading on the " Banks of D — ." Go down to Margate, wisest of law-makers. And say unto the sea, as Canute did (Of course the sea will do as it is bid), " This is the Sabbath — let there be no breakers !" Seek London's Bishop, on some Sunday morn, And try him with your tenets to inoculate ; Abuss his fine souchong, and say in scorn, " This is not Churchman's chocolate !" Or, seek Dissenters at their mid-day meal. And read them from your Sabbath Bill some passages, And while they eat their mutton, beef, and veal, Shout out with holy zeal — " These are not Chappel's sausages !" Suppose your Act should act up to your will. Yet how will it appear to Mrs. Grundy, To hear you saying of this pious bill, " It works well — on a Sunday !" To knock down apple-stalls is now too late. Except to starve some poor old harmless madam ; — You might have done some good, and changed our fate, Could you have upset that, which ruined Adam ! ODE TO SIE ANDREW AGNEW, BAET. 123 'Tis useless to prescribe salt-cod and eggs, Or lay post-horses under legal fetters, While Tattersall's on Sunday stirs its Legs, Folks look for good examples from their Betters ! Consider — Acts of Parliament may bind A man to go where Irvings are discoursing ; But as for forcing " proper frames of mind," Minds are not framed, like melons, for such forcing ! Remember, as a Scottish legislator, The Scotch Kirk always has a Moderator ; Meaning, one need not ever be sojourning In a long Sermon Lane without a turning. Such grave old maids as Portia and Zenobia May like discourses with a skein of threads, And love a lecture for its many heads ; But as for me, I have the Hydra-phobia. Religion one should never overdo : Right glad I am no minister you be, For you would say your service, sir, to me. Till I should say, " My service, sir, to you." Six davs made all that is, you know, and then Came that of rest, by holy ordination, As if to hint unto the sons of men. After creation should come re-creation. Read right this text, and do not further search To make a Sunday Workhouse of the Church. 124 ODE TO J. S. BUCKINGHAM, ESQ. ODE TO J. S. BUCKINGHAM, ESQ., M. P.,« ON THE EEPORT OF THE COMMITTEE ON DRUNKENNESS. *' Steady, boys, steady." — Sea Song. " Then did they fall upon the chat of drinking ; and forthwith hegan Flagons to go, Gohlets to fly, great Bowls to ting. Glasses to ring, draw, reach, fiU, mix, give it me without water ; so, my Friend, so ; whip me off this Glass neatly, bring me hither some Claret, a full weeping Glass till it run over !" — Kabelais. *' Now, seeing that every Vessel was empty, great and small, with not so much at the Bottom as would half befuddle or muddle even a Fly, such as are the Flies of Baieux, I say, seeing this lamentable sight, Gargantua leapt up on one of the Tables, and with Tears in his Eyes as big as Cannon Bullets, did pathetically beseech Pnntji- gruel, as well as he could for the Hiccups and the Drinking Cups, and all sorts of Cups, as he valued his precious Body and Soul, one or both, never to drink more than became a reasonable Man, and not a Hog and a Beast. And the Stint of a reasonably reasonable Man is thus much, to wit, seven Thousand three Hundred and fifty-three Hogsheads, twice as many Kilderkins, thrice as many little Kegs, and as many Flag- gons, Bottles, and Tankards as you will, beside. A Christian ought not to drink more. As Gargantua said these "Words his Voice grew thick, his Tongue being as it were too huge for his Mouth ; and on a sudden he turned dog-sick, and fell off the Table a prodigious Fall, whereby there was a horrible Earthquake, from Pai'is even unto Turkey in Asia, as is remembered unto this day." — Rabelais. 0, Mr. Buckingham, if I may take The liberty with you and your Committee, Some observations I intend to make^ I hope Tvill prove both pertinent and pretty : On Drunkenness you've held a special court, But is consistency, I ask, your forte. When after (I must say) much Temperance swaggering, You issue a Beport That's staggering ! Of course you labored without drop or sup, Yet certain parts of that Report to read. Some men might think indeed, A corkscrew, not a pen, had drawn it up. OBB TO J. S. BUCKINGHAM, ESQ. 125 For instance, was it quite a sober plan, On such a theme as drunkenness, to trouble A poor old man Who could not e'en see single, much less double ? Blind some six years, As it appears He gives in evidence, and you receive it, A flaming picture of a flaming palace. Where gin-admirers sipped the chalice, And then (the banter is not bad). Thinks fit to add, You really should have seen it to believe it !* That he could see such sights I must deny, Unless he borrowed Betty Martin's eye. A man that is himself, walks in a line ; One, not himself, goes serpentine, And as he rambles In crablike scrambles, The while his body works in curves. His intellect as surely swerves. And some such argument as this he utters : " While men get cut we must have cutters, * What is your occupation? — My occupation has heen in tho weaving line ; Ind Tmmng the dropsy six years ago, lam deprived of my eyesight. 273i. Did you not once see a gin-shop hurnt clown ? — Almii nine months ago there was the sign of the Adam and Eve at the corner of Church-street, at Bethnal-green, burnt down, and they had such a quantity of spirits in tho house at the time that it was such a terrible Are, that they were obliged to throw everything into the middle of the road to keep it away from the liq- uor, and it was all in flames in the road ; and the gin-shop opposite was scorched and broke then- windows ; and there was another gin-shop at tho opposite corner — at three corners there were gin-shops — and was, from the fire, just like a murdering concern, for you could not get round the comer at all ; it was so thronged that a man could not ieUeve it -unless he saw it. 126 ODE TO J. S. BUCKINGHAM, ESQ. As long as Jack Avill have his rum We must have pink, corvette, and bomb, Each sort of craft Since Noah's old raft. Frigate and brig, Ships of all rig ; We must have fleets, because our sailors swig, But only get our tars to broths and soups. And see how slops will do away with sloops ! Turn flip to flummery, and grog to gravy. And then what need has England of a navy?"* Forgive my muse ; she is a saucy hussy. But she declares such reasoning sounds muzzy, And that, as sure as Dover stands at Dover, The man who entertains so strange a notion Of governing the ocean. Has been but half seas over. Again : when sober people talk On soberness, would not their words all walk Straight to the point, instead of zig-zag trials Of both sides of the way, till, having crossed And crossed, they find themselves completely lost Like gentlemen — rather cut-in Seven Dials ? Just like the sentence following in fact : . " Every Actf Of the Legislature" (so it 7-uns) " should flow * 3893. If iempemTice were universal, do yov tldiik we should need amy Une- of-battle ships ? — It would be very unsafe for us to be without tliem. t 1686. Do you mean to infer from that, that the law in all its branches should be in accordance with the divine command ! — I do ; every Act of the Legislature should flow over the bed of inspired truth, and receive the im- pregnation of its righteous and holy principles. ODE TO J. S. BUCKINGHAM, ESQ. 127 Over the bed'' of what ? — begin your guesses. The Bed of Ware? The State Bed of the Mayor ? One at the Hummums ? Of MacAdam's? No. A parsley bed ? Of cabbage, green or red ? Of onions ? daffodils ? of water-cresses ? A spare-bed with a friend ? one full of fleas ? At Bedford, or Bedhampton ? — None of these. The Thames's bed ? The bed of the New River ? A kennel? brick-kiln? or a stack of hay?. Of church- yard clay, The bed that's made for every mortal liver ? No — ^give it up — all guessing I defy in it ; It is the bed of " Truth"—" inspired" forsooth, As, if you gave your best best-bed to Truth, She'd lie in it ! Come, Mr. Buckingham, be candid, come. Didn't that metaphor want " seeing home ?" What man, who did not see far more than real, Drink's beau ideal — Could fancy the mechanic so well thrives, In these hard times, The source of half his crimes Is going into gin-shops changing fives ?* Whate'er had washed such theoretic throats, After a soundish sleep, till twelve next day, And, perhaps, a gulp of soda — did not theij All change their notes ? * 2512. Are tley in tlie habit of bringing £5 notes to get changed, as well as sovereigns ? — Very rarely ; I sTiould iliinh a £5 note is an article they sel- dom pui in iheir pocleets. 128 . ODE TO J. S. BUCKINGHAM, ESQ. Suppose — mind, Mr. B., I say suppose You were the landlord of the Crown — the Rose — The Cock and Bottle, or the Prince of Wales, The Devil and the Bag of Nails, The Crown and Thistle, The Pig and Whistle, Magpie and Stump — take which you like, The question equally will strike ; Suppose your apron on — top-boots — fur-cap — Keeping an eye to bar and tap, When in comes, muttering like mad. The strangest customer you ever had ! Well, after rolling eyes and mouthing, And calling for a go of nothing. He thus accosts you in a tone of malice : "Here's pillars, curtains, gas, plate-glass — What not? Zounds ! Mr. Buckingham, the shop you've got Beats Buckingham Palace ! It's not to be allowed, sir ; I'm a Saint, So I've brought a paint-brush, and a pot of paint — You deal in gin, sir, Glasses of sin, sir; No words — Gin wholesome ? — You're a story-teller ; I don't mind Satan standing at your back, The Spirit moveth me to go about. And paint your premises inside and out. Black, sir, coal black. Coal black, sir, from the garret to the cellar. I'll teach you to sell gin ; and, what is more. To keep your wicked customers therefrom, I'll paint a great Death's-head upon your door — Write underneath it, if you please — Old Tom !"* 3006. Do you think it would be of good effect, were tlie Legislature t» ODE TO J. S. BUCKINGHAM, ESQ. 129 Should such a case occur, Ho-w would you act with the intruder, sir ? Surely, not cap in hand, you'd stand and bow. But after hearing him proceed thus far (Mind — locking up the bar), You'd seek the first policeman near, " Here, take away this fellow, here ; The rascal is as drunk as David's Sow !" If I may ask again — ^between Ourselves and the General Post, I mean — What was that gentleman's true situation Who said — ^but could he really stand To what he said ? — " In Scottish land The cause of drunkenness was education !"* Only, good Mr. Buckingham, conceive it ! In modern Athens, a fine classic roof. Christened the High School — that is, over proof ! Conceive the sandy laddies ranged in classes, With quaichs and bickers, drinking-horns and glasses, Ready to take a lesson in Glenlivet ! Picture the little Campbells and M'Gregors, Dancing half fou', by way of learning figures ; And Murrays — not as Lindley used to teach — Attempting verbs when past their parts of speech ; Imagine Thompson, learning ABC, By D V ; Fancy a dunce that will not drink bis wash, order that tlioso houses should he painted all hlack, -with a large death's- head and cross-hones over the door ? — I wish they would do even bo much. * 4502. What are the remote causes that have influenced the habit of drinking spirits among all classes of the population ?— One of the causes of drunkenness in Scotland is education. 6* .180 ODE TO J. S. BUCKINGHAM, ESQ. And Master Peter Alexander Weddel Invested with a medal For getting on so very far-in-tosh ; Fancy the Dominie — a drouthy body — Giving a lecture npon mating toddy, Till, having emptied every stoup and cup, He cries, " Lads ! go and play — the school is up !" To Scotland, Ireland is akin In drinking, like as twin to twin ; When other means are all adrift, A liquor-shop is Pat's last shift, Till, reckoning Erin round from store to store^ There is one whiskey-shop in four.* Then who, but with a fancy rather frisky, And warm besides, and generous with whiskey, Not seeing most particularly clear. Would recommend to make the drunkards thinner By shutting up the publican and sinner With pensions each of fifty pounds a year ?f Ods ! taps and topers ! private stills and worms ! What doors you'd soon have open to your terms ! To men of common gumption, How strange, besides, must seern At this time any scheme To put a check upon potheen's consumption, * 3804. Did you observe the drin'king of spirits veiy general in Ireland ? — In Ireland, I think, upon a moderate oaleulation, one shop out of every four is a whiskey-sliop, throughout the whole Idngdom. Those who have been unsueeessful in every other employment, and those who have no capi- tal for any employment, fly to the Belling of whiskey as the last shift. t 773. Kow, suppose we were to give £50 a-year to every spirit-seller in Belfast, to pension them off (and I am sure it would bo mueh better for the country that they should be paid for doing nothing than for doing mis- chief). ODE TO J. S. BUCKINGHAM, ESQ. 131 When all are calling out for Irish Poor Laws ! Instead of framing more laws, To pauperism if you'd give a pegger. Don't check, but patronise their " Kill the Beggar !"* If Pat is apt to go in Irish Linen (Buttoning his coat, with nothing but his skin in), Would any Christian man — that's quite himself, His wits not floored, or laid upon the shelf — While blaming Pat for raggedness, poor boy, Would he deprive him of his " Corduroy !"f Would any gentleman, unless inclining To tipsy, take a board upon his shoulder. Near Temple Bar, thus warning the beholder, "BEWARE OF TWINING?" Are tea-dealers, indeed, so deep designing, As one of your select would set us thinking, That to each tea-chest we should say, Tu Doces (Or doses), Thou tea-chest drinking 1% What would be said of me Should I attempt to trace The vice of drinking to the high in place. And say its root was on the top o' the tree?§ * 794. We have in our neigliborliood a species of whiskey of this Mud, called " Kill the Beggar." t 795. Another deacription of what would be termed adulterated spirits, is by the vulgar tei'med " Corduroy." X 798. It is quite common, in Dublin particularly, to have at one end of the counter a large pile of tea-chests for females to go behind, to be hid from sight ; but the dangerous secrecy arises chiefly from the want of suspicion in persons going into grocers' shops. 783. It is a well-known fact, that mechanics' wives not imfrequently get portions of spirituous liquors at grocers' shops, and have them set down to their husbands' accounts as soap, sugar, tea, &c. § 816. Do you ascribe the great inclination for whiskey at present existing 132 ODE TO J. S. But / am not pot-valiant, and I shun To say how high potheen might have a run.* What would you think, if, talking about stingo, I told you that a lady friend of mine, By only looking at her. wine Flushed in her face as red as a flamingo ?-|- Would you not ask of me, like many more, " Pray, sir, what had the lady had before?" Suppose at sea, in Biscay's bay of bays, A rum-cask bursting in a blaze, Should / be thought half tipsy or whole drunk, If, running all about the deck, I roared " I say, is ever a Cork man aboard?" Answered by some Hibernian Jack Junk, While hitching up his tarry trowser. How would it sound in sober cars, how, sir. If I should bellow with redoubled noise, " Then sit upon the bung-hole, broth of boys !"J among the lower olassea, originally to the use of it by the higher classes as a favorite drink ? — I attribute a very large portion of the evils arising from the use of spirituous liquors to the sanction, they have received from the higher classes : the respectable in society I hold to be the chief patrons of drunkenness. * 759. What do you mean by the phrase run ? — ^It means, according to a common saying, that /or one gallon made/or the King, another is made for the Queen. t 4627. A lady informed me lately, that, in dining out, although she should not taste a drop in the hob and nob at dinner, yet the lifting of tbo glass as frequently as etiquette requii-es, generally flushed her face a good deal before dinner was ended. t 3901. Are you aware of the cause of the burning of the Kent East In- diaman in the Bay of Biscay ? — Holding a candle over the bung-hole of a cask of spirits, the snuff fell into the cask and set it on fire. They had not presence of mind to put in the bung, which would have put out the fire ; and if a man had sat on the hung-hole it would not have burnt him, and it would have put it out. ODE TO J. S. BUCKINGHAM, ESQ. 133 When men — the fact's -well known — reel to and fro, A little what is called how-come-you-so, They think themselves as steady as a steeple, And lay their staggerings on other people — Taking that fact in pawn. What proper inference would then be drawn By e'er a dray-horse with a head to his tail, Should anybody cry To some one going by, "Ofie! Ofie! Ofie! You're drunk— you've n'}{)h had half a pint of ale /"* One certain sign of fumes within the skull. They say, is being rather slow and dull, Oblivious quite of what we are about ; No one can doubt Some weighty queries rose, and yet you missed 'em : For instance, when a Doctor so bethumps What he denominates the " forcing system," Nobody asks him about forcing-pumps !\ Oh say, with hand on heart, Suppose that I should start Some theory like this : " When Genesis "• 4282. Do many young men visit tliose liouses ! — A very great many liave done, more so than what visit the regular public-houses. I was in one of those places about twelve months ago, waiting for a coach, and there came into the beer-shop twenty-two boys, who called for half a gallon of ale, which they drank, and then they called for another. X 1211. The over-stimulation, which too frequently ends in tho habit of drunkenness in Great Britain in every class, is tho result cf tho British forcing system simply. 134 ODB TO J. S. BUCKINGHAM, ESQ. Was -written, before man became a glutton. And in. his appetites ran riot, Content with simple vegetable diet. Eating his turnips without leg of mutton, His spinach without lamb, carrots sans beef, 'Tis mj belief He was a polypus, and I'm convinced Made other men when he was hashed or ininced ;" — Did I in such a style as this proceed, Would you not say I was Farre gone^ indeed ?* Excuse me, if I doubt at each Assize How sober it would look in public eyes, For our King's Counsel and our learned Judges, When trying thefts, assaults, frauds, murders, arsons, To preach from texts of temperance like parsons, By way of giving tipplers gentle nudges, Imagine my Lord Bay ley, Parke, or Park,f Donning the fatal sable cap, and hark — " These sentences must pass, howe'er I'm panged. You Brandy must return — and Rum the same — To the Goose and Gridiron, whence you came— Gin ! — Eeverend Mr. Cotton and Jack Ketch Your spirit jointly will despatch — Whiskey be hanged !" * 1282. Was not vegetable food prescribed ia the first oiapter of Genesis ? ■ — Vegetable food was appointed wiien the restorative power of man was complete. The restorative power in some of the lower animals is still com- plete. If a polypus be truncated or out into several pieces, each part will become a perfect animal. — Vide JSvidence of Dr. Farre. t 975. What happy opportunities, for example, are offered to each Judge and King's Counsellor at every Assize to denounce all eustomaiy use of disfi lUled spirit, as the great excitement to crime. The proper improvement of such opportunities would do much for temperance. ODE TO J. S. BUCKINGHAM, ESQ. 185 Suppose that some fine morning, Mounted upon a pile of Dunlop cheeses, I gave the following as public warning, Would there not be sly winking, coughs, and sneezes ! Or dismal hiss of universal scoi'n : " My brethren, don't be born ; But if you're born be well advised — Don't be baptized. If both take place, still at the worst Do not be nursed ; At every birth each gossip dawdle Expects her caudle ; At christenings, too, drink always hands about ; Nurses will have their porter or their stout ; Don't wear clean linen, for it leads to sin — All washerwomen make a stand for g'n. If you're a minister, to keep due stinting, Never preach sermons that are worth the printing,* Avoid a steamboat with a lady in her,-|- And when you court, watch Miss well after dinner ;."j; Never run bills, or if you do, don't pay,§ And give your butter and your cheese away ; || * 4642. When a clergyman gets a new manse, lie is fined in a tottle of wine ; wben he has been newly married, this oircumstanoe subjects him to the same amicable penalty ; the birth of a child also costs one bottle, and the publication of a sermon another. — By J. Dunlop, Esq. ■\ 4637. The absolute necessity of treating females in the same manner, in steamboat jaunts, is lamentable. I 4637. Some youths have been known to defer their entrance into a tem- perance society till after their marriage,' lest failure in the usual compliments should be misconstrued, and create a coldness with then- future wives. S 1635. It (drinking) is employed in making bai'gains, at the payment of accounts. II 4639. A landlady, in settling with a farmer for his butter and cheese, brings out the bottle and the glass with her own hands, and presses it on his 136 ODE TO J. S. BUCKINGHAM, ESQ. Build yachts and pleasure-boats, if you are rich. But never have them launched, or payed with pitch ;* In fine, for Temperance if you stand high. Don't die !"t Did I preach thus, sir, should I not appear Just like the " parson much bemused -with beer ?" Thus far, Mr. Buckingham, I've gathered, But here, alas ! by space my pen is tethered ; And I can merely thank you all in short. The witnesses that have been called in court, And the Committee for their kind Report, Whence I have picked and puzzled out this moral. With which you must not quarrel : 'Tis based in charity — That men are brothers, And those who make a fuss, About their Temperance thus, Are not so much more temperate than others. acceptance. How can he refuse a lady soliciting him to do •what he is, per- haps, unfortunately already more than half inclined to ? * 4640. The launohing-bowl is a bonus of drink, varying from £2 to £10, according to the size of the ship, bestowed by the owners on the apprentices of a ship-building yard at the launch of a vessel. The graving-bowl is given to the journeymen after a vessel is payed with tar. ■|- 4638. On the event of a decease, every one gets a glass who comes within the door until the funeral, and for six weeks after it. ODE TO MESSRS. GREEN, HOLLOND, ETC. 13T ODE TO MESSES. GREEN, HOLLOND, AND , MONCK MASON,^ ON THEIR LATE BALLOON EXPEDITION. " Here we go up. Tip, up— and there we go down, down, downy."— Old Vau^tk lofty -minded men ! Almost beyond the pitch of my goose pen ! And most inflated words ! Delicate Ariels ! ethereals ! birds Of passage ! fliers ! angels without wings ! Fortunate rivals of Icarian darings ! Male-witches, without broomsticks — taking airings ! Kites — without strings ! Volatile spirits ! light mercurial humors ! give us soon your sky adventures truly, With full particulars, correcting duly All flying rumors ! Two-legged high fliers ! What upper-stories you must have to tell ! And nobody can contradict you well. Or call you liars ! Your Region of Romance will many covet ; Besides that, you may scribble what you will, And this great luck will wait upon you, still All criticism, you will be above it ! Write, then, Messrs. Monck Mason, Hollond, Green ! And tell us all you have, or haven't seen ! — ['Twas kind, when the balloon went out of town, To take Monck Mason up and set him down. 138 ODE TO MESSRS. GREEN, For when a gentleman is at a shift For carriage — talk of carts, and gigs, and coaches ! Nothing to a balloon approaches. For giving one a lift !] say, when Mr. Frederic Gye Seemed but a speck — a mote— in friendsliip's eye, Did any tongue confess a sort of dryness Seeming the soaring rashness to rebuke ; Or did each feel himself, like Brunswick's Duke, A most Serene Highness ! Say, as you crossed the Channel, Well clothed in -well-aired linen and warm flannel. How did your company, perceived afar, Affect the tar? Methinks I see him cock his weather eye Against the sky. Turning his ruminating quid full oft, With -wonder sudden taken all aback — " My eyes !" says he, " I'm blowed if there arn't three! Three little Cherubs smiling up aloft, A-watching for poor Jack !" Of course, at such a height, the ocean Affected no one by its motion — But did internal comfort dwell with each, Quiet and ease each comfortable skin in ? Or did brown Hollond of a sudden bleach As white as Irish linen ? Changing his native hue, Did Green look blue ? — In short, -was any air-sick ? P'rhaps Monck Mason Was forced to have an air-pump in a bason ? 139 Say, with -what sport, or pleasure, Might you fill up your lofty leisure ? Like SGOtehman, at high jinks ? (High-spy was an appropriate game methinks) Or cards — but playing very high ; Or skying coppers, almost to the sky ; Or did you listen, the first mortal ears That ever drank the music of the spheres ? Or might you into vocal music get, A trio— highly set ? Or, as the altitude so well allowed, Perchance, you '■ blew a cloud." Say, did you find the air Give you an appetite up there ? Your cold provisions — were you glad to meet 'em ? Or did you find your victuals all so high — Or blown up so by your flij — You couldn't eat em ? Of course, you took some wine to sup, Although the circumstance has not been stated : I envy you the efiervescing cup ! Warn't your Champagne well up? Nay, you, yourselves, a little elevated f Then, for your tea and breakfast, say, Was it not something delicately new. To get sky blue Right genuine from the real milky way ! Of course, you all agreed, Whate'er your conversation was about, 140 ODE TO MESSRS. GREEN, HOLLOND, ETC. Like friends indeed — And faith ! not without need, 'Twas such an awkward place for falling out ! Say, after your gastronomy. Kept you a watch all night, Marking the planets bright. Like three more Airys, studying astronomy; Or near the midnight chime, Did some one haul his nightcap on his head, Hold out his mounted watch, and say '■'■Idgh time To go to bed?" Didn't your coming scare The sober Germans, until every cap Rose lifted by a frightened fell of hair ; Meanwhile the very pipe, mayhap. Extinguished, like the vital spark in death, From wonder locking up the smoker's breath ! Didn't they crouch like chickens, when the kite Hovers in sight, To see your vehicle of huge dimension Aloft, like Gulliver's Laputa — nay, I'd better say. The Island of Ascension ? Well was it planned To come down thus into the German land, Where Honors you may scoi'e by such event — For, if I read the prophecy aright, You'll have the Eagle Order for your ilight, And all be Von'd, because of your descent! EEMONSTKAXORY ODE. 141 REMONSTEATORY ODE FROM THE ELEPHANT AT EXETEU 'CHANGE, TO MK. MATHEWS, AT THE ENGLISH OPEEA-HOtTSE.^ " See with what courteous action He beckons you to a more removed ground." — HaTnlet, [WEITTEN BY A FEIEXD.] Oh, Mr. Mathews ! Sir ! (If a plain elephant may speak his mind, And that I have a mind to speak I find By my inward stir) I long have thought, and wished to say. that we Mar our well-merited prosperity By being such near neighbors ; My keeper now hath lent me pen and ink, Shoved in my truss of lunch, and tub of drink, And left me to my labors ; The whole menagerie is in repose. The Coatamundi is in bis Sunday clothes, Watching the Lynx's most unnatural doze ; The Panther is asleep, and the Macaw ; The Lion is engaged on something raw ; The white Bear cools his chin 'Gainst the wet tin ; And the confined old Monkey's in the straw ; All the nine little Lionets are lying Slumbering in milk, and sighing ; Miss Cross is sipping ox-tail soup Li her front coop ; So here's the happy mid-day moment ; — yes, I seize it, Mr. Mathews, to address 142 REMONSTRATOEY ODE. A 'word or two To you On the subject of the ruin which must come By both being in the Strand, and both at home On the same nights ; two treats So very near each other, As, oh my brother ! To play old gooseberry with both receipts. When you begin Your summer fun, three times a week, at eight, And carriages roll up, and cits roll in, I feel a change in Exeter 'Change's change. And, dash my trunk ! I hate To ring my bell, when you ring yours, and go With a diminished glory through my show ! It is most strange ; But crowds that meant to see me eat a stack. And sip a water-butt or so, and crack A root of mangel-wurzel with my foot. Eat little children's fruit, Pick from the floor small coins, And then turn slowly round and show my India-rubber loins 'Tis strange — most strange, but true. That these same crowds seek you ! Pass my abode, and pay at your next door I It makes me roar With anguish when I think of this ; I go With sad severity mj nightly rounds Before one poor front row, My fatal funny foe ! And when I stoop, as duty bids, I sigh REMONSTRATOKY ODE. 143 And feel that, -while poor elephantine I, Pick up the sixpence, you pick up the pounds ! Could you not go ? Could you not take the Cobourg or the Surrey ? Or Sadler's Wells — (I am not in a hurry,; I never am !) for the next season? — oh ! Woe ! woe ! woe ! To both of us, if we remain ; for not In silence will I bear my altered lot. To have you merry, sir, at my expense ; No man of any sense, No true great person (and we both are great In our own ways) would tempt another's fate ; I would myself depart In Mr. Cross's cart, But, like Othello, " am not easily moved." There's a nice house in Tottenham Court, they say, Fit for a single gentleman's small play ; And more conveniently, near your home ; You'll easily go and come. Or get a room in the City — in some street — Coachmakers' Hall, or the Paul's Head, Cateaton Street ; Any large place, in short, in which to get your bread ; But do not stay, and get Me into the Gazette ! Ah ! The Gazette ! I press mj forehead with my trunk and wet My tender cheek with elephantine tears, Shed of a walnut size 144 EEMONSTRATORY ODE. From my wise eyes, To think of ruin after prosperous years. What a dread case .would be For me — large me ! To meet at Basinghall Street, the first and seventh And the eleventh ! To undergo (D n !) My last examination ! To cringe, and to surrender, Like a criminal ofiender. All my efifects — my bell-pull, and my bell. My bolt, my stock of hay, my new deal cell ; To post my ivory, sir ! And have some commissioner Very irreverently search my trunk ; 'Sdeath ! I should die With rage, to find a tiger in possession Of my abode ; up to his yellow knees In my old straw ; and my profound profession Entrusted to two beasts of assignees ! The truth is simply this — if you will stay Under my very nose. Filling your rows Just at my feeding time, to see your play. My mind's made up. No more at nine I sup. Except on Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Fridays, Sundays ; From eight to eleven. As I hope for heaven, On Thursdays, and on Saturdays, and Mondays, I'll squeak and roar, and grunt without cessation, And utterly confound your recitation. EEMONSTRATORY ODE. 145 And, mark me ! all my friends of the furry snout Shall join a chorus shout : We -will be heard-^-we'll spoil Your ■wicked ruination toil. Insolvency must ensue To you, sir, you ; Unless you move your opposition shop, And let me stop. I have no more to say : — I do not write In anger, but in sorrow ; I must look. However, to my interests every night. And they detest your " Memorandum-book." If we could join our forces — I should like it ; You do the dialogue, and I the songs : A voice to me belongs ; (The Editors of the Globe and Traveller ring With praises of it, when I hourly sing God save the King.) If such a bargain could be schemed, I'd strike it ; I think, too, I could do the Welsh old man In the Youthful Days, if dressed upon your plan ; And the attorney in your Paris trip — I'm large about the hip ! Now think of this ! — for we cannot go on As next door rivals, that my mind declares : I must be penniless, or you be gone ! We must live separate, or else have shares. I am a friend or foe As you take this ; Let me your profitable hubbub miss, Or be it " Mathews, Elephant, and Co. !" 7 146 ADDRESS TO ME. CROSS. ADDEESS TO ME. CEOSS, OF EXETEE 'CHANGE, OF THE DEATH OF THE ELEPHANT.^ " 'Tis Greece — ^but living Greece no more."— Giaowr. Oh, Mr. Cross ! Permit a sorry stranger to draw near And slied a tear (I've shed my shilling) for thy recent loss ! I've been a visitor, Of old, a sort of a Buffon inquisitor, Of thy Menagerie — and knew the beast That is deceased ! — I was the Damon of the gentle giant, And oft have been. Like Mr. Kean, Tenderly fondled by his trunk compliant ; Whenever I approached, the kindly brute Flapped his prodigious ears and bent his knees- It makes me freeze To think of it ! — no chums could better suit, Exchanging grateful looks for grateful fruit. For so our former dearness was begun. I bribed him with an apple, and beguiled The beast of his affection, like a child ; And well he loved me till his life was done (Except when he was wild) : It makes me blush for human friends — ^but none I have so truly kept or cheaply won ! Here is his pen ! — The casket — ^but the jewel is away ! — ADDRESS TO MR. CROSS. 147 The den is rifled of its denizen — Ah well a day ! This fresh free air breathes nothing of his grossness, And sets me sighing even for its closeness. This light one-story Where, like a cloud, I used to feast my eyes on The grandeur of his Titan-like horizon, Tells a dark tale of his departed glory. The very beasts lament the change, like mc. The shaggy Bison Leaneth his head dejected on his knee ! Th' Hyena's laugh is hushed, and Monkeys pout ; The Wild Cat frets in a complainkig whine, The Panther paces restlessly about . To walk her sorrow out ; The Lions in a deeper bass repine. The Kangaroo wrings its sorry short fore paws. Shrieks come from the Macaws, The old bald Vulture shakes his naked head. And pineth for the dead ; The Boa writhes into a double knot ; The keeper groans While sawing bones. And looks askance at the deserted spot — Brutal and rational lament his loss, The flower of thy beastly family ! Poor Mrs. Cross Sheds frequent tears into her daily tea. And weakens her Bohea ! Oh, Mr. Cross, how little it gives birth To grief, when human greatness goes to earth, How few lament for Czars ! — 148 ADDEESS TO ME. CEOSS. But oh the universal heart o'erflowed At his high mass Lighted by gas, When, like Mark Anthony, the keeper showed The elephantine scars ! — Reporters' eyes Were of an egg-like size. Men that had never wept for murdered Marrs ! Hard-hearted editors with iron faces Their sluices all unclosed — And discomposed Compositors went fretting to their cases ! — That grief has left its traces : The poor old Beef-eater has gone much grayer With sheer regret, . And the Gazette Seems the least trouble of the beasts' Purveyor ! And I too weep ! — A dozen of great men I could have spared without a single tear ; But then They are renewable from year to year ! Fresh Gents would rise, though Gent resigned the pen I should not wholly Despair for six months of another C****, Nor, though F******** lay on his small bier. Be melancholy But when will such an Elephant appear ? Though Penley were destroyed at Drury Lane, His like might come, again ! Fate might supply A second Powell if the first should die ; Another Bennet, if the sire were snatched ; ADDKESS TO MR. CEOSS. 149 Barnes — might be matched ; And Time fill up the gap Were Parsloe laid upon the green earth's lap ; Even Claremont might be equalled — ^I could hope (All human greatness is, alas, so puny !) For other Egertons — another Pope, But not another Chunee ! Well ! he is dead ! And there's a gap in Nature of eleven Feet high by seven — Five living tons ! — and I remain — nine stone Of skin and bone ! It is enough to make me shake my head And dream of the grave's brink — 'Tis worse to think How like the Beast's the sorry life I've led ! — A sort of show Of my poor public self and my sagacity. To profit the rapacity Of certain folks in Paternoster Kow, A slavish toil to win an upper story — And a hard glory Of wooden beams about a weary brow ! Oh, Mr. C. ! If ever you behold me twirl my pen To earn a public supper, that is, eat In the hare street, Or turn about their literary den — Shoot me ! 150 ODE TO THE LATE LORD MAYOR. ODE TO THE LATE LORD MAYOE.^" " NoTT, Night descending, the proud Bcene is o'er, But lives in Settle's numbers one day more." Pope — On the Lord Maycyfa Shmc. Worthy Mayor ! — I mean to say Ex-Mayor ! Chief Luddite of the ancient town of Lud ! Incumbent of the City's easy chair ! — Conservator of Thames from mud to mud ! Great river-bank director ! And dam-inspector ! Great guardian of small sprats that swim the flood ! Lord of the scarlet gown and furry caj) ! King of Mogg's map ! Keeper of Gates that long have " gone their gait," Warder of London stone and London log ! Thou first and greatest of the civic great, Magog or Gog ! — Honorable Ven (Forgive this little liberty between us), Augusta's first Augustus ! — Friend of men Who wield the pen ! Dillon's Maecenas ! Patron of Learning where she ne'er did dwell, Where literature seldom finds abettors. Where few — except the postman and his bell — Encourage the bell-lettres ! — * See the putlished work of the Rev. Mr. Dillon, the Lord Mayor's Chap lain, Trho, in his zealona endeavor to etamp immortality upon the civic ex pedition to Oxford, has outrun every production in the annals of burlesque even the long renowned " Voyage from Paris to St. Cloud." ODE TO THE LATE LORD MAYOR. 151 Well hast thou done, Right Honorable Sir — Seeing that years are such devouring ogresses, And thou hast made some little journeying stir To get a Nichols to record thy Progresses ! Wordsworth once wrote a trifle of the sort ; But for diversion. For truth — for nature — everything in short— I own I do prefer thy own " Excursion." The stately story Of Oxford glory — The Thames romance— yet nothing of a fiction — Like thine own stream it flows along the page — " Strong, without rage," In diction worthy of thy jurisdiction ! To future ages thou wilt seem to be A second Parry ; For thou didst carry Thy navigation to a fellow crisis. He penetrated to a Frozen Sea, And thou — to where the Thames is turned to Isis .'* I like thy setting out ! Thy coachman and thy coachmaid boxed together !f I like thy Jarvey's serious face — in doubt Of " four fine animals" — no Cobbetts either !J * The Chaplain doubts the correctness of the Thames being turned into the Isis at Oxford : of course he is right — according to the course of the river, it must be the Isis that is turned into the Thames. t " As soon as the female attendant of the Lady Mayoress had taken her seat, dressed with becoming neatness, at the side of the 'well-looking coach- man, the carriage drove away." — Visit. X "The coachman's countenance was reserved and thoughtfol, indicating full consciousness of the test by which his equestrian skill would this day be tried."— iSi