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 GIATHEEED LEAVES lO 
 
 BEING A OOLLECTION OF 
 
 THE POETICAL WRITINGS 
 
 OF THE LATE 
 
 FRANK E. SMEDLEY. 
 
 •5» 
 WITH A 
 
 BY EDMUND YA.TES. 
 
 aait^ 
 
 lllttstratwras. 
 
 LONDON: 
 VIRTUE BKOTHEBS & CO., 1, AMEN CORNER 
 
 PATEBNOSTEB ROW. 
 1865. 
 
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 LONDON : 
 
 PHINTED BY JAMES S. VIRTUE, 
 
 CITY EOAD. 
 
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 "^==•1^^=^?^ 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 
 " In Memomam " '^ii 
 
 Mattoe Allinghamb; a Legend op Heetfoed- 
 
 SHIRB 1 
 
 Ye Right Ancient Ballad of ye Combat of 
 
 King Tideich with ye Deagon 35 
 
 The Enchanted Net 48 
 
 A Fytte of the Blues 61 
 
 The Foefeit Hand ; a Legend op Bbabant . . 65 
 
 The Ballad op Boeeana 90 
 
 To a Punning Beauty 94 
 
 To Mes. G. H. Vietub 95 
 
 Valentines 96 
 
 To MY Valentine 98 
 
 Foe M. S 100 
 
 A Day Deeam 101 
 
 Epitaph 104 
 
 Lines fob Music 10° 
 
 % 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 
 To 106 
 
 Lines weitten to Miss Augusta Shobt . . . 109 
 
 The LovBii's Rbbttkb to his Heart Ill 
 
 The Heaet's Reply Ill 
 
 The Peayee op the Weaey Heaet 113 
 
 A Song 117 
 
 Loved Best .... 119 
 
 At Home 121 
 
 To L. K. Y 122 
 
 A Serenade 124 
 
 A Reiionsteance 126 
 
 "Alone" 128 
 
 Lily Flowee 130 
 
 S.AXNT PfiEE 132 
 
 A Chaeactbe 134 
 
 Hope on, Hope evee! 137 
 
 Ode 139 
 
 Lebe Wohl! 144 
 
 In Vain 146 
 
 Lines weitten foe the Bazaae fob the 
 Windsor New Free and Industrial 
 
 Schools 147 
 
 Ti 
 
 * 
 
 f 
 
In Pemonm. 
 
 UST about this time ten years ago, tie late 
 Mr. Bogue, the puUislier, of Fleet Street, 
 begged me to call tipoii him, to talk over 
 a projected magazine ■which he had no- 
 tions of starting. In the course of our conversation, 
 he told me that the new periodical ■would have the 
 advantage of being illustrated by glorious George 
 Cruikshank, that it "would be called " Cruikshank" 
 Magazine," and that its literary contents "would be 
 edited by Prank Smedley, " whom of course I kne^vv!" 
 I was very young at that time, both in years and 
 literature; and I recollect feeling very much humi- 
 liated as I confessed that I had never heard of the 
 gentleman. "What?" said Mr. Bogue. "I mean 
 
 b ix 
 
the author of ' Frank Tairlegh.' " In an instant I 
 recalled my words. Knew him ? I knew him 
 thoroughly. I had heen with him in fifty rows and 
 scrapes at his privateHutor's, then followed him on in 
 later life where we had been members of the same 
 hunt, and taken a few buUflnches and oxers together. 
 I had been his confidant in his love affairs, had been 
 jealous of some of liis sweethearts, and had not care4 
 one jot for others. We had done a little racing 
 together, and at one time had certainly "stood in" 
 about "nobbling" an intended Derby winner. "We 
 were in Italy together, and mixed up with the 
 Condottieri. I remembered an awkward affair in 
 which we both were implicated, where a cloth was 
 thrown over an English nobleman's head, while an 
 Italian personage pointed to a conveniently adjacent 
 canal. But all this friendship and camaraderie was 
 on paper. I knew him only in his books I On the 
 living man I had never set eyes in my life. So I 
 took a letter of introduction from Mr. Bogue, and went 
 up to Jermyn. Street, where Mr. Smedley then lived, 
 in the aspiring frame of mind befitting one about to 
 enlist as a light free lance under a new chief. As I 
 
 ^-^ 
 
IN MEMORIAM. 
 
 rode up in tie cab, I was picturing to myself the man 
 ■with whom I was about to become acquainted ; and as 
 I now write, those thoughts recur to me exactly as they 
 passed through my mind. I h^ve laughed over them 
 so often with him who was their subject, that there is 
 no wonder at their remaining iixed on my memory. 
 I pictured to myself a tail, strongly-built man, of 
 about forty years of age, bald, with a fringe of hair, 
 large breezy whiskers, strong bony hands, and general 
 muscular development, rather "horsy" in his dress 
 and talk and manner. . I expected that his tone would 
 be rather brusque, and that I might probably be unable 
 to attain his required standard of " knowingness " in 
 matters relating to the field and the road. I sent in 
 my letter, and I was ushered into the presence of a 
 gentleman, whom, even in the dim light of a shaded 
 lamp standing on the table by his elbow, I could tell to 
 be suffering under some malformation, as he sat in his 
 wheel-chair — a little man, with a peculiar, clever fiice ; 
 piercing eyes, never moving from the person he was 
 addressiag ; a manner beginning in earnestness, and 
 then straying into banter; a voice beginning in 
 harshness, and modulating into pleasantest cadence ; a 
 
 i 
 
IN MEMORIAM 
 
 Learing wliich, in its endeavour to he thoroughly 
 independent, seemed leaning towards repulsion, and 
 yet which — spite of itself, as it seemed — was inde- 
 finably attractive. I jvas so astonished at finding such 
 a difference in what I had expected, that, as I have 
 since thought, my answers to his short and pertinent 
 questions must have been vague and unsatisfactory. At 
 all events, I recollect that my new acquaintance's tone 
 became slightly sarcastic, which recalled me to myself ; 
 that I endeavoured to answer him as best I could ; 
 that his manner then changed ; and that on that, the 
 first day of our acquaintance, we formed an iatimate 
 friendship, which continued until the latest hour of 
 his life. 
 
 I think that this kindness of heart, veiled occa- 
 sionally under an affectation of worldly-mindodness, 
 and a little cynicism very badly sustained, was the 
 ruling spirit of his Ufe. He was never happy save 
 when doing a kindness to some one — never pleased save 
 when he had some little pet scheme of beneficence, 
 which he would bring out as though he were, ashamed 
 of it; while his quivering lips and brimming eyes 
 belied the assumed roughness of his voice and manner. 
 
=^s^^ 
 
 IN WEMORIAM. 
 
 He was soft-liearted to a degree ; indeed, converse mtli 
 him had a sanctifying and hallowing influence. His 
 physical malady had kept his intercourse with the 
 world so restricted, that while his mind was full, 
 strong, and manly, his experiences of certain sides of 
 life were as pure and unsullied as those of a young 
 girl. All the impulses of his soul were deep-set, 
 earnest, fervent, and generous. He had heard of the 
 lower views of humanity held by some great men, but 
 he had never had reason to allow their existence ; so he 
 frankly and unhesitatingly denied it. He was himself a 
 man " in whom was no guile,'' and it was very difficult 
 indeed for him to allow its presence in any one else. 
 "With all the masculinity of his writings (and it is 
 allowed that there are very few writers who, in certain 
 phases of description, notably of the hunting-field and 
 the race-course, have ever equalled, while certainly 
 none have ever surpassed him), his mind was, to a 
 certain degree, feminine. He had the strong likings 
 and dislikings, petulances, love of small jokes, desire 
 of praise, and irritation at small annoyances, which 
 are frequently found in women ; but, on the other 
 hand, he had a magnanimity, an amount of patient 
 
 xiii 
 
IN MEMORIAM. 
 
 long-suffering, and a courage both moral and physical, 
 such as are given to few men. I, the writer of this 
 imperfect sketch, knew, I believe, most of the secret 
 aspirations of his heart ; and I look back upon him as, 
 mentally, a perfect type of the romantic knights of old 
 — capable of a devoted, unselfish love ; worshipping 
 woman as a being worthy of all honour, and almost 
 incapable of wrong ; delighting in feats of horseman- 
 ship and daring ; of unsullied honour and unswerving 
 integrity, impatient of double-dealing; impetuous, yet 
 easily guided ; simple-minded, and of fervent faith. 
 His bodily infirmities, before alluded to, prevented him 
 from indulging in any of the amusements which he 
 most fancied, shut him out from a vast amount of 
 society, kept him a prisoner to his chair; and yet I 
 never heard one syllable of repining escape his lips, 
 though on more than one occasion I have heard him 
 turn off some well-meant though badly-timed com- 
 miseration with a light-hearted jest. 
 
 Of some authors it may be said that their lives are 
 written in their books, but Frank Smedley's works 
 reveal no glimpse of his actual life. Here and there 
 one finds in them sketches of his personal friends, 
 
 % 
 
% 
 
 ==^^gfe^ 
 
 IN MEMORIAM. 
 
 pleasant reproductions, so kindly brought out tliat the 
 originals always enjoyed them most. Here and there 
 one comes across bits of observation and reflection, 
 such as his intimates have heard him utter ; but for 
 the most part his novels are but the vent for that 
 extraordinaiy fund of high animal spirits which, under 
 other circumstances, Tvould have been brought into 
 play in adventure, in sporting, in fighting the great 
 battle of life. But in some of the minor poems 
 scattered throughout this volume the reader wUl find 
 many little passages in which my poor friend evidently 
 refers to his own afflicted condition, but never without 
 patient resignation and fervent hope — two virtues 
 illustrated in every action of his daily life. 
 
 Springing from a good old English family, who, for 
 the last two or three generations, have had intimate 
 relations with "Westminster School (his grandfather 
 and his cousin were well-known masters there, and 
 there his father had been educated), Feancis Edwaed 
 Smediex was bom on the 4th October, 1818, at 
 Marlow. ■ At his birth he was a remarkably fine child ; 
 but it pleased God to afflict him with some strange 
 malady, which could never find a technical name, nor 
 
IN MEMORIAM. 
 
 be thoroughly accounted for by the members of the 
 faculty, but -which retarded his growth, and delayed 
 his physical development. Under these circumstances 
 it was considered advisable that his earliest studies 
 should be pursued at home ; and it was not until he 
 was fourteen years of age that he was placed under 
 the care of a private tutor, the Eev. Charles MiUett, 
 resident at Brighton. In Mr. Millett's house he 
 remained for some months ; but his health was found 
 incompatible with even the comparatively mild boy- 
 roughness to be found at a private tutor's; and he 
 returned home to pursue his studies under the eye of 
 his cousin, the Eev. E. A. Smedley, one of the 
 Westminster masters before mentioned. When his 
 education was completed, he more keenly than ever 
 felt the pressure of those sad circumstances which 
 prevented him from following one of the several 
 callings for young men of position and education, but 
 he accepted his lot with that cheerful resignation 
 which never forsook him. And then, at that which 
 was perhaps the darkest period of his Hfe, came the 
 dawning of what may be considered its brightest and 
 happiest phase, his literary career. Two ladies, his 
 
i 
 
 € 
 
 cousins, one of wiom has since attained a distinguished 
 name as an authoress, had noticed that Frank Smedley 
 had a very acute perception of the ludicrous, and that 
 his correspondence Trith them was marked by power of 
 character-reading and graphic description such as is 
 rarely met with. As a means of employment, and of 
 allaying that listless depression under which he at 
 times necessarily suffered, they suggested that he should 
 attempt to delineate some of his own experiences of 
 life. These had been small enough ; but from them he 
 managed to extract an entire novelty. As he himself 
 says in his preface to "Frank Fairlegh," "while 
 volume after volume had been devoted to ' school- 
 boy days,' and ' college life,' the mysteries of that 
 paradise of public-school-fearing mammas, a ' private 
 tutor's,' yet continued unrevealed." To him fell 
 the task of their revelation. His experiences at 
 Mr. MUlett's gave him the substratum of fact ; his 
 brilliant fancy supplied the rest ; and the " Scenes 
 from the Life of a Private Pupil," contributed to 
 "Sharpe's London Magazine" (then a popular perio- 
 dical), were so successful, that the proprietor of the 
 miscellany suggested an extension of the series 
 
originally contemplated, and finally published them 
 in a complete form, under the title of "Frank Fair- 
 legh." 
 
 In the dedication of the book he thus thanks the 
 ladies, his cousins, who first prompted his labour: — 
 "As it is mainly owing to your joint advice and 
 encouragement that this tale has been either written or 
 laid before the public, there can be none to whom I 
 may with greater propriety dedicate it. When I add 
 that my satisfaction in making the slight acknowledg- 
 ment of the countless acts of affectionate kindness I 
 have received at your hands, is one among the many 
 agreeable results of the advice which has eventually 
 led me to adopt a literary career, you will not 
 refuse to accept this assurance that you have contri- 
 buted to the happiness of one whose sphere, both of 
 duties and of pleasures, Providence has seen fit to 
 limit." 
 
 In the pages of the same magazine he published his 
 second, the longest and perhaps most popular of his 
 works, entitled, " Lewis Arundel ; or, the Railroad of 
 Life," which, although the story is somewhat drawn 
 out and several unnecessary characters are introduced, 
 
 =s^^ 
 
contains some bits of descriptive writing which, are 
 truly admirahle. "While this story was in progress he 
 assumed the editorial guidance of " Sharpe's Magazine," 
 at the request of Mr. Sharpe, the then proprietor, 
 discharging his duties gratuitously at first, until the 
 magazine hecame the property of Mr. Virtue ; and to it, 
 besides the leading serial tale, he contributed many 
 short sketches, and some very quaintly humorous com- 
 ments on, and replies to, the correspondence he received 
 in his judicial capacity. A Christmas story, called 
 " The Fortunes of the ColvUle Family," was also 
 published by Mr. Smedley about this time. 
 
 " Cruikshank's Magazine," alluded to in the opening 
 of this sketch, was a failure. I can scarcely tell why. 
 In his best days the veteran draughtsman had never 
 designed a more telling picture than the " Tail of a 
 Comet," which formed the frontispiece of the first 
 number, nor carried one out with more elaboration of 
 detail. But Frank Smedley did not contribute any 
 story ; merely confined himself to what is technically 
 known as " writing up to cuts," and the rest of us were 
 young beginners without any literary reputation. So, 
 after the third number, " Cruikshank's Magazine" was 
 
1 
 
 given up, and shortly afterwards Frank Smedley under- 
 took another flight, a flight at that time only -undertaken 
 by Messrs. Dickens, Thackeray, Lever, and himself — 
 the issue of a novel in monthly parts. 
 
 His story, which commenced most auspiciously, vfas 
 called " Harry Coverdale's Courtship," and was illus- 
 trated in the approved form with two steel engravings by 
 Phiz. It was hailed with warm commendation by the 
 press, and promised to be its author's most complete and 
 compact work — more, indeed, of a thorough character- 
 novel than any he had yet attempted. But iUness 
 prevented the carrying out of the scheme with that 
 vigour which had characterised its commencement. 
 He completed his book, but not in the manner he 
 had wished. In the preface he himself says, " The 
 conclusion of the tale has been perpetrated at a time 
 when, on account of severe nervous headaches, the 
 author was under strict medical orders not to write a 
 line upon any consideration ; and it is with the fear of 
 the doctor before his eyes that he is penning these few 
 last words. They are not written in the forlorn hope 
 of disarming criticism, but simply to assure those friends 
 who have hitherto looked with an indulgent eye on his 
 
 < 
 
 ^^S^ 
 
IN MEMORIAM. 
 
 writings, that if ' Harry Coverdale's Courtship' does not 
 come up to the expectations they may have formed from 
 the perusals of his previous works, it is rather the mis- 
 fortune than the fault of their grateful and obedient 
 servant, the author." "While his novel was in progress 
 he had published in conjunction with me a little shilling 
 book of nonsense verses, called " Mirth and Metre," his 
 share of which is here reprinted, and this, with the 
 exception of a few papers contributed out of friendship 
 to me to the "Train," a magazine of which I was 
 editor, was the last of his published works. His health, 
 always delicate, declined very much ; he became a victim 
 to intense headaches, violent and of long duration, 
 which were caused, doubtless, by an accident which 
 happened to him in the autumn of '56, when he was 
 thrown from his pony-carriage, and dragged for some dis- 
 tance along the road before the pony could be stopped ; 
 and as, by a change in his circumstances, anything like 
 necessity for writing had been done away with, he gave 
 himself up, when he was free from suffering, to tranquil 
 leisure and lettered ease. He read much, and of all 
 kinds, and he was never happier than when, surrounded 
 by a few old friends, he led the discussion upon books 
 
 '> 
 
^^ 
 
 ■gc 
 
 m MEMORIAM. 
 
 and their authors. After his father's death, which 
 happened some six years ago, he continued living with 
 his mother at Grove Lodge, Regent's Park — a house 
 the grounds of which are perhaps the most perfect 
 realisation of the rus in urhe ever mot with, where, if 
 he chose, he could get fresh air without being wheeled 
 out of the tranquil precincts of his garden, and where 
 he was in the immediate neighbourhood of the Zoological 
 Gardens, his favourite resort. But about two years 
 since he purchased for himself a charming estate called 
 Beechwood, within a very short distance of Marlow, his 
 native place ; and here he had passed the two last 
 summers of his life, thoroughly happy, and, as we all 
 fondly hoped, gaining strength and health. 
 
 On Thursday, the 28th of April, in this current year, 
 I dined with him at Grove Lodge, and thought him 
 better and brighter than I had seen him for some length 
 of time. "When the other guests left the dinner-table 
 he asked me to remain, and talked to me with the 
 greatest spirit and interest about the work on which I 
 was then engaged, about some horses he had bought, 
 about his desire to get away speedily into the country 
 and enjoy all the beauties of the coming summer — about 
 
IN MEMORIAM, 
 
 a dozen little trifles, into all of which, he entered with 
 even more than his ordinary zest. I left him, promising 
 to return the next week and settle an early date for 
 visiting him at Beeohwood. On Sunday morning, the 
 1st of May, he was found by his servant, who came to 
 call him, in a state of stupor, speedily followed by a 
 succession of epileptic fits, and by Sunday evening he 
 was dead. On Monday, the 9th of May, we laid his 
 mortal remains in Marlow churchyard, between the 
 church where 
 
 " The kneeling hamlet drains 
 The chalice of the grapes of God," 
 
 and the river which he loved so well. The shops in 
 the little town were all closed, and though the weather 
 was most tempestuous, the churchyard was filled with 
 the townspeople, who had all known and esteemed the 
 kind-hearted, cheerful spirit who had lately sojourned 
 amongst them, whose dire malady had never soured his 
 temper, but who always had a pleasant word and a 
 merry jest for those who passed him as he travelled to 
 and from the town in his wheel-chair. All peace to his 
 ashes! The calm tranquillity of Marlow churchyard 
 
 =^*^^^^= 
 
will not be less endeared to the lover of tie picturesque 
 because it contains the mortal remains of one who 
 ministered in his life to the innocent amusement of his 
 fellow-creatures, and who with the spirit of a man 
 combined the simplicity of a child. 
 
 EDMUND YATES. 
 
 Kessington, December, 1864. 
 
MAUDE ALLINGHAME; 
 
 A LEGEND OF HEETF ORDS HIRE* 
 
 P 
 
 au 
 
 t^gg, 
 
 HEEE is -weeping and wailing in Allinglianie 
 
 Hall, 
 Prom many an eye does the tear-drop fall, 
 
 * The following legend is founded on a story current in the part of 
 Herts where the scene is laid ; th^ house was actually burnt down 
 about ten years ago, having just been rendered habitable. 
 
Swollen -with son'ow is many a lip, 
 
 Many a nose is red at the tip ; 
 
 All the shutters are shut very tight, 
 
 To keep out the wind and to keep out the light ; 
 
 
 "While a couple of mutes, 
 "With very hlack suits. 
 And extremely long faces, 
 Have taken their places 
 
GATHERED LEAVES 
 
 With, an air of professional esprit de corps, 
 
 One on each side of the great hall door. 
 
 On the gravel beyond, in a wonderful state 
 
 Of black velvet and feathers, a grand hearse, and eight 
 
 Magnificent horses, the orders await 
 
 Of a spruce undertaker, 
 
 Who's come from Long Acre, 
 To furnish a coffin, and do the polite 
 To the corpse of Sir Eeginald Allinghame, Knight. 
 
 The lamented deceased whose funeral arrangement 
 I've just been describing, resembled that strange gent 
 Who ventured to falsely imprison a great man. 
 Viz. the Ottoman captor of noble Lord Bateman ; 
 For we're told in that ballad which makes our eyes 
 
 water, ; 
 
 That this terrible Turk had got one only daughter ; 
 And although our good knight had twice seen twins 
 
 arrive, a 
 Young lady named Maude was the only survivor. 
 So there being no entail 
 On some horrid heir-male. 
 And no far-away cousin or distant relation 
 To lay claim to the lands and commence litigation, 
 'Tis well known through the county, by each one and all 
 That fair Maude is the heiress of Allinghame Hall. 
 
v|j^$a^&^ 
 
 Yes ! she was very fair to view ; 
 Mark well that forehead's ivory hue, 
 That speaking eye, whose glance of pride 
 The silken lashes scarce can hide, 
 E'en when, as now, its wonted fire 
 Is paled with weeping o'er her sire ; ^ 
 Those scornful Hps, that part to show 
 The pearl-like teeth in even row ; ' 
 That dimpled chin, so round and fair, 
 The clusters of her raven hair, 
 "Whose glossy curls their shadow throw 
 O'er her smooth brow and neck of snow ; 
 The faultless hand, the ankle small, 
 The figure more than woman tall. 
 And yet so graceful, sculptor's art 
 Such symmetry could ne'er impart. 
 Observe her well, and then confess 
 The power of female loveliness. 
 And say, "Except a touch of vice 
 One may descry 
 About the eye, 
 Eousiiig a Caudle-ish recollection, 
 "Which might perchance upon reflection 
 Turn out a serious objection. 
 That gal would make ' a heavenly splice.'" 
 
 
^ 
 
 ^^^^^mM 
 
 GATHERED LEAVES. 
 
 From, fax and wide 
 On every side 
 Tte county did many a suitor ride, 
 "WTio, wishing to marry, determined to call 
 And propose for tte teiress of Allingliame Hall. 
 EJughts who'd gather'd great fame in 
 Stabbing, cutting, and maiming 
 The French and their families 
 At Blenheim and EamUies, 
 In promiscuous manslaughter 
 T'other side of the water, 
 Very eagerly sought her ; 
 Yet, though presents they brought her, 
 And fain would have taught her. 
 To fancy they loved her, not one of them caught her. 
 Maude received them all civiUy, asked them to dine, 
 Gave them capital venison, and excellent wine. 
 But declared, when they popp'd, that she'd really no 
 
 notion 
 They'd had serious intentions — she own'd their devotion 
 Was excessively flattering — quite touching — in fact 
 She was grieved at the part duty forced her to act ; 
 Still her recent bereavement — her excellent father — 
 (Here she took out her handkerchief) — yes, she had 
 rather — 
 
^j£^^^(S=;=— _ 
 
 GATHERED LEAVES. 
 
 Kather not (here slie sobb'd) say a thing so unpleasant, 
 But she'd made up her mind not to marry at present. 
 Might she venture to hope that she still should retain 
 Their friendship ? — ^to lose that would cause her such 
 
 pain. 
 Would they like to take supper ? — she fear'd etiquette, 
 
 A thing not to be set 
 At defiance by one in her sad situation, 
 Having no "Maiden Aunt," or old moral relation 
 
 Of orthodox station, 
 
 Whose high reputation, 
 
 And prim notoriety, 
 
 Should inspire society 
 With a very deep sense of the strictest propriety ; 
 Such a relative wanting, she feared, so she said. 
 Etiquette must prevent her from offering a bed ; 
 But the night was so fine, just the thing for a ride — 
 Must they go ? Well, good-bye, — and here once more 
 
 she sigh'd ; 
 Then a last parting smile on the suitor she threw. 
 And thus, having " let him down easy," withdrew, 
 While the lover rode home with an indistinct notion 
 That somehow he'd not taken much by his motion. 
 
 Young Lord Dandelion, 
 An illustrious scion, 
 
A green sprig of nobility, 
 "Whose excessive gentility 
 I fain would describe if I had but ability, — 
 This amiable lordling, being much in the state 
 I've described, i.e. going home at night rather late. 
 Having got his conge 
 (As a Prenchman would say) 
 From the heiress, with whom he'd been anxious to 
 
 mate. 
 Is jogging along, in a low state of mind, 
 "When a horseman comes rapidly up from behind, 
 And a voice in his ear 
 Shouts in tones round and clear, 
 "Ho, there ! stand and deliver ! your money or life ! " 
 While some murderous weapon, a pistol or knife, 
 Held close to his head. 
 As these words are beiug said. 
 Glitters cold in the moonlight, and fills him with dread. 
 
 Now I think you will own. 
 That when riding alone 
 On the back of a horse, be it black, white, or roan. 
 Or chestnut, or bay. 
 Or piebald, or grey, 
 Or dTin-brown (though a notion my memory crosses 
 That 'tis asses are usually done brown, not horses), 
 
 ^r 
 
 S^Sii;^ 
 
 ^ 
 
GATHERED LEAVES. 
 
 ^^ 
 
 When on horseback, I say, in the dead of the night, 
 
 Nearly dark, if not quite, 
 
 In despite of the light 
 
 Of the moon shining bright- 
 ish — yes, not more than -ish, for the planet's cold rays I 
 've been told on this night were unusually hazy — 
 
 With no one in sight, 
 
 To the left or the right. 
 Save a well-mounted highwayman fully intent 
 On obtaining your money, as Dan did his rent. 
 By bullying — an odd sort of annual pleasantry 
 That "Eepaler" play'd off on the finest of peasantry; 
 In so awkward a fix I should certainly say. 
 
 By far the best way 
 Is to take matters easy, and quietly pay ; 
 The alternative being that the robber may treat us 
 To a couple of bullets by way of quietua ; 
 Thus applying our brains, if perchance we have got any, 
 In this summary mode to the study of botany. 
 By besprinkling the leaves, and the grass, and the 
 
 flowers, 
 With the source of our best intellectual powers. 
 And, regardless of habeas corpus, creating 
 A feast for the worms, which are greedily waiting 
 
 Till such time as any gent 
 
 Quits this fraU tenement. 
 
And adopting a shroud as his sole outer garment, 
 Becomes food for -worms, slugs, and all such-like var- 
 mint. 
 
 My Lord Dandelion, 
 That illustrious scion, 
 Not possessing the pluck of the hold hero Brian 
 (Of whom Irishmen rave till one murmurs "How 
 
 true 
 Is the brute's patronymic of Brian Bore you"), 
 Neither feehng inclined, 
 Nor having a miud 
 To be shot by a highwayman, merely said, " Eh ? 
 Aw — extwemely unpleasant — aw — take it, sir, pway ;" 
 And without further parley his money resign'd. 
 
 f 
 
 Away ! away ! 
 With a joyous neigh. 
 Bounds the highwayman's steed, like a colt at play ; 
 And a merry laugh rings loud and clear, 
 On the terrified drum of his trembling ear. 
 While the following words doth his lordship hear : — 
 " Unlucky, my lord ; unlucky, I know, 
 Por the money to go 
 And the heiress say ' No,' 
 On the self-same day, is a terrible blow. 
 
 m 
 
When next you visit her, good my lord, 
 
 Give THE highwayman's love to fair Mistress Maude ! " 
 
 Away ! away ! 
 On his gallant grey 
 My Lord Dandelion, 
 That unfortunate scion. 
 Gallops as best he may ; 
 And as he rides he mutters low, 
 " Insolent fellar, how did he know? " 
 
 In the stable department of Allinghame Hall 
 There's the devil to pay, 
 As a body may say. 
 
 And no assets forthcoming to answer the call ; 
 For the head groom, Eoger, 
 A knowing old codger, 
 In a thundering rage, 
 Which nought can assuage, 
 Most excessively cross is 
 With the whole stud of horses. 
 While he viciously swears 
 At the fillies and mares ; 
 
 He bullies the helpers, he kicks all the boys, 
 
 Upsets innocent pails with superfluous noise ; 
 
 Very loudly doth fret and incessantly fume, 
 10 
 
 ^^ 
 
And behaves, in a word, 
 
 In a way most absurd. 
 More befitting a madman, by far, than a groom. 
 
 Till at length he finds vent 
 
 For his deep discontent 
 In the following soliloquy : — " I'm blest if this is 
 To be stood any longer ; I'll go and tell Missis ; 
 If she don't know some dodge as 'U stop this here rig, 
 
 Vy then, dash my vig, 
 
 This here werry morning 
 
 I jest gives her warning. 
 If I don't I'm a Dutchman, or summnt as worse is." 
 Then, after a short obKgato of curses. 
 Just to let off the steam, Roger dons his best clothes. 
 And seets his young mistress his griefs to disclose. 
 
 " Please your Ladyship's Honour 
 I've come here upon a 
 Purtiklar rum business going on in the stable, 
 Vich, avake as I am, I ain't no how been able 
 To get at the truth on : — the last thing each night 
 I goes round all the 'orses to see as they're right, — 
 And they alvays is right too, as far as I see. 
 Cool, kviet, and clean, just as 'orses should be, — 
 Then, furst thing ev'ry morning agen I goes round, 
 To see as the cattle is all safe and sound. 
 
 11 
 
<rJ? 
 
 'Twas nigh three veeks ago, or perhaps rather more, 
 Ven vun mommg, as usual, I unlocks the door — 
 (Tho' I ought to ha' mention'd I alvays does lock it. 
 And buttons the key in my right breeches pocket) — 
 I opens the door, Harm, and there vas Brown Bess, 
 Tour ladyship's mare, in a horribul mess ; 
 Eeg'lar kiver'd aU over vith sveat, foam, and lather. 
 Laying down ia her stall — sich a sight for a father ! 
 "Vhile a saddle and bridle, as hung there kvite clean 
 Over night, vas aU mud and not fit to be seen ; 
 And, to dock a long tale, since that day thrice a- 
 
 week. 
 Or four times, perhaps, more or less, so to speak, 
 
 I've diskivered that thare 
 
 Identical mare. 
 Or else the black barb, — vioh, perhaps you'll remember 
 Vas brought here from over the seas last September,^ 
 In the state I describes, as if fairies or vitches 
 Had rode 'em aU night over hedges and ditches ; 
 If this here's to go on (and I'm sure I don't know 
 How to stop it), I tells you at vunce, I must go ; 
 
 Yes, although I've lived here 
 
 A good twenty-five year, 
 I am sorry to say (for I knows what your loss is). 
 You must get some vun else to look arter your 
 'orses." 
 12 
 
 
 ■Ik- 
 
 '■(#V 
 
Eoger's wonderful tale 
 
 Seem'd of little avail, 
 For Maude neither fainted, nor scream' d, nor tum'd pale, 
 But she sign'd with her finger to bid him draw near ; 
 
 And cried, " Eoger, come here, 
 
 I've a word for your ear ; " 
 
 Then she whisper'd so low 
 
 That I really don't know 
 What it was that she said, but it seem'd apropos 
 
 And germane to the matter ; 
 
 Por though Roger stared at her, 
 
 "With mouth wide asunder. 
 
 Extended by wonder. 
 Ere she ended, his rage appear'd wholly brought under. 
 
 Insomuch that the groom, 
 
 "When he quitted the room, 
 Louted low, and exclaim'd, with a grin of delight, 
 " Tour Ladyship's Honour's a gentleman quite ! " 
 'Tis reported, that night, at the sign of " The Groat," 
 Roger the groom changed a £20 note. 
 
 
HEEE'S a stir and confusion in Eedbum 
 
 town, 
 And all the way up and all the way down 
 
 The principal street, 
 When the neighbours meet, 
 They do nothing but chafe, and grumble, and frown, 
 And sputter and mutter. 
 And sentences utter, 
 14 
 
-^^^ 
 
 
 i 
 
 GATHERED LEAVES. 
 
 Sucli as these — " Have you heard, 
 
 The thing that's occurr'd ? 
 
 His ■worship the Mayor ? 
 
 Shocking affair ! 
 
 Much too bad, I declare ! 
 
 Fifty pounds, I've heen told ! 
 
 And as much more in gold. 
 
 "Well, the villain is bold ! 
 
 Two horse pistols ! — No more ? 
 
 I thought they said four. 
 
 And so close to the town ! 
 
 I say, Graffer Brown, 
 
 Do tell us about it." 
 
 " Thus the matter fell out — it 
 "Was only last night that his worship the Mayor, 
 
 Master Zachary Blair, 
 
 Having been at St. Alban's and sold in the fair 
 
 Some fifteen head of cattle, a horse and a mare, 
 
 Jogging home on his nag 
 
 "With the cash in a bag, 
 "Was met by a highwayman arm'd to the teeth, 
 "With a belt full of pistols and sword in its 
 sheath, 
 
 A murderous villain, six feet high, 
 
 "With spur on heel and boot on thigh. 
 And a great black beard and a wicked eye ; 
 
 15 
 
 '► 
 
 ^-^^^ 
 
^^-^^m 
 
 GATHERED LEAVES. 
 
 And he said to his Worship, ' My fat little friend, 
 
 I will thank you to lend 
 Me that nice bag of gold, which no doubt you intend 
 Before long to expend 
 In some awfully slow way, 
 Or possibly low way, 
 Which I should not approve. Come, old fellow, be 
 
 quick ! ' 
 And then Master Blair heard an ominous click, 
 Betokening the cocking 
 Of a pistol, a shocking 
 Sound, which caused him to quake, 
 And shiver and shake, 
 From the crown of his head to the sole of his stocking. 
 So yielding himself with a touching submission 
 To what he consider'd a vile imposition. 
 He handed the bag with the tin to the highway- 
 man, who took it, and saying, in rather a dry way, 
 'Manythanks, gallant sir,' gallop'd off down a by-way." 
 
 The town council has met, and his worship the Mayor, 
 
 Master Zachary Blair, 
 
 Having taken the chair, 
 And sat in it too, which was nothing but fair. 
 
 Did at once, then and there, 
 
 Eelate and declare, 
 IG 
 
 \l^- 
 
 m^ 
 
"With a dignified aii-, 
 
 And a presence most rare, 
 The tale we've just heard, which made all men to stare, 
 
 And indignantly swear, 
 
 It was too bad to bear. 
 Thep after they'd fully discuss'd the affair. 
 To find out the best method of setting things square. 
 They agreed one and all the next night to repair, 
 
 TTpon horseback, or mare, 
 
 To the highwayman's lair, 
 And, if he appear' d, hunt him down Hie a hare. 
 
 Over No-Man' s-Land* the moon shines bright. 
 
 And the furze and the fern in its liquid light 
 
 Glitter and gleam of a silvery white ; 
 
 The lengthen' d track which the cart-wheels make, 
 
 "Winds o'er the heath like a mighty snake, 
 
 And silence o'er that lonely wold 
 
 Doth undisputed empire hold. 
 
 Save where the night-breeze fitfully 
 
 Mourns like some troubled spirit's cry ; 
 
 At the cross roads the old sign-post 
 
 Shows dimly forth, like sheeted ghost. 
 
 * The name of a lonely common near Harpenden, formerly a 
 favourite site for prize-fights. 
 
 17 
 
 <1 
 
As with weird arm, extended still, 
 It points the road to Leamsford Mill ; 
 
 In fact it is not 
 
 At all a sweet spot, 
 
 A nice situation, 
 
 Or charming location ; 
 The late Eobins himself, in despite his vocation, 
 
 "Would have deem'd this a station 
 
 Unworthy laudation, 
 A.nd have probably term'd it " a blot on the nation.' 
 
 m 
 
 
 In a lane hard by, 
 
 Where the hedge-rows high, 
 Veil with their leafy boughs the sky, 
 Biding their time, sits his worship the Mayor^ 
 
 Master Zaohary Blair, 
 
 ^ind my Lord Dandelion, 
 
 That illustrious scion. 
 And Oxley the butcher, and Doughy the baker. 
 And Chisel the joiner and cabinet-maker. 
 
 And good farmer Dacre, 
 
 "Wlio holds many an acre. 
 And, insuper omnes, bold Jonathan Blaker, 
 
 The famous thief-taker, 
 Who's been sent for from town as being more wide 
 avraker, 
 18 
 
 
GATHERED LEAVES. 
 
 (Excuse that comparative, sure 'tis no crime 
 To sacrifice grammar to such, a nice rhyme), 
 And up to the dodges of fellows who take a 
 Delight in heing born in " stone jugs," and then fake a- 
 way aL. their lives long in a manner would make a 
 Live Archbishop to swear, let alone any Quaker, 
 "Wet or dry, you can name, or a Jumper or Shaker ; 
 And, to add to this Ust, Hobbs was there, so was Dobbs, 
 With several others, all more or less snobs. 
 Low partys, quite wiUing to peril their nobs 
 In highwayman catching, and such-like odd jobs. 
 To obtain a few shillings, which they would term bobs. 
 
 'Tisn't pleasant to wait 
 
 In a fidgety state 
 Of mind, at an hour we deem very late, 
 
 When our fancies have fled 
 
 Home to supper and bed, 
 And we feel we are catching a cold in the head ; 
 (By the way, if this ailment should ever make you ill, 
 Drop some neat sal- volatile into your gruel, 
 
 Tou'U. be aU right next day, 
 
 And win probably say. 
 This, by way of receipt, is a regular jewel) ; 
 
 To wait, I repeat, 
 
 Por a robber or cheat, 
 
 19 
 
 ^ 
 
On a spot he's supposed to select for his beat, 
 When said rohber wont come 's the reverse of a treat. 
 
 So thought the butcher, and so thought the baker, 
 And so thought the joiner and cabinet-maker, 
 And so thought all the rest except Jonathan Blaker ; 
 To him catching a thief in the dead of the night 
 Presented a source of unfailing delight ; 
 
 And no-w as he sat 
 
 Peering under his hat. 
 He looked much like a terrier watching a rat. 
 
 Hark ! he hears a muffled sound ; 
 He slips from the saddle, hia ear's to the ground. 
 
 Louder and clearer. 
 
 Nearer and nearer, 
 'Tis a horse's tramp on the soft green sward I 
 He is mounted agaia : " Now, good my Lord, 
 Now, master Mayor, mark well, if you can, 
 A rider approaches, is this your man ? " 
 
 Ay, mark that coal-black barb that skims, 
 "With flowing mane and graceful limbs. 
 As lightly onward o'er the lea 
 As greyhound from the leash set free ; 
 20 
 
Observe tlie rider's flashing eye, 
 His gallant front and. bearing high ; 
 His slender form, which scarce appears 
 Fitted to manhood's riper years ; 
 The easy grace with which at need 
 He checks or urges on his steed ; 
 Can this be one whose fame is spread 
 For deeds of rapine and of dread ? 
 
 My Lord Dandelion 
 
 Placed his spy-glass his eye on, 
 Stared hard at the rider, and then exclaim' d, " Well — 
 
 ar — 
 'Tis weaUy so dark ! but I think 'tis the fellar." 
 
 While his worship the Mayor 
 
 Whisper'd, " Oh, look ye there I 
 That purse in his girdle, d'ye see it ? — I twigg'd it ; 
 'Tis my purse as was prigg'd, and the willin what 
 prigg'd it ! " 
 
 Hurrah ! hurrah ! 
 He's off and away, 
 Follow who can, follow who may. 
 There's hunting and chasing 
 And going the pace in 
 Despite of the Hght, which is not good for racing. 
 
 21 
 
 .i!^^ 
 
" Hold hard! hold hard! there's somehody spilt, 
 And entirely kilt!" 
 " Well, never mind, 
 Leave him behind," — 
 The pace is a great deal too good to be kind. 
 Follow, follow, 
 • O'er hill and hollow, — 
 Paster, faster, 
 Another disaster ! 
 His worsliip the Mayor has got stuck in a bog. 
 And there let us leave him to spur and to flog, 
 He'H know better the next time, — a stupid old dog! 
 " Where's Hobbs?" 
 " I don't know." 
 " And Dobbs and the snobs ? " 
 " AU used-up long ago." 
 " My nag's almost blown ! " 
 " And mine's got a stone 
 In his shoe — I'm afraid it's no go. Why, I 
 
 say! 
 That rascally highwayman's getting away ! " 
 
 'Tis true. Swift as the trackless wind, 
 The gallant barb leaves all behind ; 
 Hackney and hunter still in vain 
 Exert each nerve, each siuew straiu ; 
 
 iSPr'^-- 
 
And all in vain that motley crew 
 
 Of horsemen still the chase pursue. 
 Ttto hy two, and one by one, 
 They lag hehind — 'tis nearly done, 
 
 That desperate game, that eager strife, 
 
 That fearful race for death or life. 
 
 Those dark trees gain'd that skirt the moor. 
 
 Ail danger of pursuit is o'er ; 
 
 Soreen'd by their shade from every eye , 
 
 Escape becomes a certainty. 
 
 Haste ! for "with stem, relentless -will 
 
 Ok"e eidee's ojr thy traces still ! 
 
 'Tis bold Jonathan Bla- 
 ker who sticks to his prey 
 In this somewhat unfeeling, though business-like way. 
 But even he, too, is beginning to find 
 That the pace is so good he'll be soon left behind. 
 He presses his horse on with hand and with 
 
 heel. 
 He rams in the persuaders too hard a great 
 deal; 
 
 'Tis but labour in vain. 
 Though he starts from the pain, 
 Nought can. give that stout roadster his wind back 
 again. 
 
 m 
 
GATHERED LEAVES. 
 
 Now Jonathan Blaker had formerly been 
 A soldier, and fought for his country and queen, 
 Over seas, the Low Countries to wit, and while 
 there, in 
 Despite of good teaching. 
 And praying and preaching, 
 Had acquired a shocking had hahit of swear- 
 ing; 
 Thus, whenever, as now. 
 The red spot on his brow 
 Proved him " wrathy and riled," 
 He would not draw it mild, 
 But would, sans apology, let out on such 
 Occasions a torrent of very low Dutch. 
 One can scarce feel surprise, then, considering the 
 
 urgency 
 Of the case, that he cried in the present emergency, 
 " Ach donner und bUtzen " (a taste of his Hugo), 
 
 " He'll escape, by " (I don't know the German for 
 
 "jingo") 
 
 " Tausend teufel ! sturmwetter .' 
 To think I should let a 
 Scamp like that get away ; don't I wish now that I'd 
 
 ha' 
 Drove a brace of lead pills through the horse or the 
 rider ; 
 24 
 
 ci' 
 
P'r'aps there's time for it still — Mein auge (my \ 
 
 eye), 
 'Tis the only chance left, so here goes for a try." 
 
 Oh, faster spur thy flagging steed, 
 StUl faster, — fearful is thy need. 
 Oh, heed not now his failing breath. 
 Life lies before, behind thee death ! 
 "Warning all vainly given ! too late 
 To shield thee from the stroke of fate. 
 One glance the fierce pursuer threw, 
 A pistol from his holster drew, 
 Levell'd and fired, the echoes still 
 Prolong the sound from wood to hill ; 
 But ere the last vibrations die, 
 A "WOMAN'S shriek of agony 
 Eings out beneath that midnight sky ! 
 
 The household sleep soundly in Allinghame Hall, 
 Groom, butler, and coachman, cook, footboy, and all ; 
 The fat old housekeeper 
 (Never was such a sleeper), 
 After giving a snore, 
 "Which was almost a roar, 
 Has just tum'd in her bed and begun a fresh 
 score ; 
 
GATHERED LEAVES: 
 
 The butler (a shocking old wine-Mbbing sinner), 
 Having made some mistake after yesterday's dinner, 
 As to where he should put a decanter of sherry, 
 
 m 
 
 if 
 
 f 
 
 "Went to bed rather merry. 
 But perplexed in his mind, 
 Mot being able to find 
 A legitimate reason 
 Why at that time and season 
 His eiffht-'post bed chooses, whichever way he stirs. 
 To present to his vision a couple of testers ! 
 26 
 
Since -which, still more completely his spirits to damp, 
 He'd been roused twice by nightmare and three times 
 by cramp ! 
 And now he dreams some old church-bell 
 Is mournfully tolling a dead man's knell, 
 And he starts in his sleep, and mutters, "Alas ! 
 
 Man's life's brittle as glass ! 
 There's another cork flown, and the spirit escaped ; 
 Heigh ho ! " (here he gaped), 
 Then, scratching his head, 
 He sat up in bed, 
 For that bell goes on ringing more loud than before, 
 And he knows 'tis the bell of the great haU door. 
 Footman tall, 
 Footboy small, 
 Housekeeper, butler, coachman, and all, 
 In a singular state of extreme dishabille, 
 "Which they each of them feel 
 , Disinclined to reveal. 
 And yet know not very well how to conceal. 
 With one accord rush to the old oak hall ; 
 To unfasten the door 
 Takes a minute or more 
 It opens at length and discloses a sight 
 Which fills them with wonder, and sorrow, and 
 fright. 
 
s§^m^ 
 
 f 
 
 ^^> 
 
 GATHERED LEAVES. 
 
 The ruddy light of early dawn 
 Gilds with its rays that velvet lavm ; 
 Prom every shrub and painted flffwer 
 Dew-drops distil iu silvery shower ; 
 Sweet perfumes load the air ; the song 
 Of waking birds is borne along 
 Upon the bosom of the breeze 
 That munnurs through the waving trees ; 
 The crystal brook that dances by 
 Gleams in the sunlight merrily ; 
 AU teUs of joy, and love, and life — 
 All ? — Said I everything was rife 
 "With happiness ? — Behold that form, 
 Like Uly broken by the storm, 
 Pall'n prostrate on the steps before 
 The marble threshold of the door ! 
 The weU-tumed limbs, the noble mien, 
 The riding-coat of Lincoln green ; 
 The hat, whose plume of sable hue, 
 Its shadow o'er his features threw ; 
 Ton coal-black barb, too, panting near, 
 All show some youthful cavalier ; 
 While, fatal evidence of strife. 
 Prom a deep hurt the flood of life 
 Proves, as its current stains the sod, 
 How man defiles the work of God. 
 
With eager haste the servants raise 
 The head, and on the features gaze, 
 Then backward start in sad surprise 
 As that pale face they recognise. 
 G-ood reason theirs, although, in sooth. 
 They knew but half the fatal truth ; 
 Tor, strange as doth the tale appear, 
 One startling fact is all too clear, 
 The robber, who on No-Man' s-Land 
 Was shot by Blaker's ruthless hand, — 
 That highwayman of evil fame 
 Is beauteous Maude of AlUnghame ! 
 
 L'ENVOI. 
 
 " Well, but that's not the end ? " 
 " Yes it is, my good friend." 
 " Oh, I say ! 
 That won't pay ; 
 'Tis a shocking bad way 
 To leave off so abruptly. I wanted to hear 
 A great many particulars : first, I'm not clear. 
 Is the young woman killed?" "Beat rest on that 
 
 head. 
 She's completely defunct, most excessively dead. 
 
 29 
 
 ?#r= 
 
^7^p%-= 
 
 ^^= 
 
 GATHERED LEAVES. 
 
 Blaker's sliot did the business ; she'd just strength to fly, 
 Eeach'd her home, rang the bell, and then sank do'wn 
 
 to die." 
 
 " Poor girl ! really it's horrid ! However, I knew it 
 Could come to no good — I felt certain she'd rue it — 
 But pray, "why in the world did the jade go to do it ? " 
 " 'Tis not easy to say ; but at first, I suppose. 
 Just by way of a freak she rode out in man's clothes." 
 "Then her taking the money?" "A mere idiosyn- 
 crasy, 
 As when, some years since, a young gent, being with 
 
 drink crazy. 
 Set off straight on end to the British Museum, 
 And, having arrived there, transgress'd all the laws 
 Of good breeding, by smashing the famed Portland 
 
 Vase ! 
 Or the shop-lifting ladies, by dozens you see 'em, 
 For despising the diff'rence 'twixt tuum and meum. 
 Brought before the Lord Mayor every week, in the 
 
 papers. 
 
 Why, the chief linen-drapers 
 ■ Have a man iu their shops solely paid for revealing 
 "When they can't keep their fair hands from picking and 
 
 stealing. 
 'Twas a mere woman's fancy, a female caprice, 
 And you know at that time they'd no rural police." 
 
 30 
 
" Hum ! it may have been so. Well, is that all about 
 
 it?" 
 " No ; there's more to be told, though I daresay you'll 
 
 doubt it- 
 s beiag true ; but the story goes on to relate, 
 That after Maude's death, the old Hall and estate 
 "Were put up to auction, and Master Blair thought it 
 Seem'd a famous investment, bid for it and bought it. 
 And fitted it up in extremely bad taste ; 
 
 But scarce had he placed 
 His foot o'er the threshold, — ^the very first night, 
 
 He woke up in a fright. 
 Being roused from his sleep by a terrible cry 
 Of ' Fire ! '^had only a minute to fly 
 
 In his shirt, Mrs. Blair in her Well, never mind. 
 
 In the dress she had on at the time : while behind 
 Follow'd ten little blessings, who looked very winning, 
 In ten little nightgowns of Irish linen ; 
 They'd just time to escape, when the flames with a roar 
 Like thunder, burst forth from each window and 
 door; 
 
 And there, with affright. 
 
 They perceive by the light 
 
 Maude Allinghame's sprite — 
 Her real positive ghost — ^no fantastic illusion 
 Conceived by their brains from the smoke and confusion — 
 
 31 
 
 ■"^^ 
 
Witli a hot flaming brand 
 
 In each shadowy hand, 
 Flaring up, like a fiend, in the midst of the fire, 
 And exciting the flames to bum fiercer and higher. 
 From what follows we learn that ghosts, spirits, and 
 
 elves. 
 Are the creatures of habit as well as ourselves ; 
 For Maude (that is, ghost Maude), when once she had 
 
 done 
 The trick, seem'd to think it was capital fun ; 
 And whenever the house is rebuilt, and prepared 
 For a tenant, the rooms being all well scrubb'd and 
 
 air'd. 
 The very first night the new owner arrives 
 Maude's implacable spirit still ever contrives 
 
 Many various ways in 
 
 To set it a blazing ; 
 
 In this way she's done 
 
 Both the Phoenix and Sun 
 So especially brown by the fires she's lighted. 
 
 That now, being invited 
 To grant an insurance, they always say when a nice 
 
 Offer is made them, 
 
 'Tis no use to persuade them, 
 If a ghost's in the case, they won't do it at any 
 price." 
 32 
 
And now for the moral ! Imprimis, young heiresses, 
 Don't go riding o' nights, and don't rob mayors or 
 
 mayoresses ; 
 As to rohbing your suitors, allow me to say, 
 On the face of the thing 'tis a scheme that won't pay ; 
 Though they sigh and protest, and are dabs at love- 
 making, 
 
 Tou'U not find one in ten 
 
 Of these charming young men 
 Can produce on occasion a purse worth your taking. 
 Don't refuse a good offer, but think ere you let a 
 Chance like that slip away, that you maynH get a better. 
 
 One more hint and I've done — 
 
 If by pistol or gun 
 
 It should e'er be your lot 
 
 (Which I hope it may not). 
 
 In a row to get shot, 
 And^the doctor's assistance should aU prove in vain, 
 ""Wlien you give up the ghost, don't resume it again." 
 K you do choose to " walk " and revisit this earth 
 To play tricks, let some method be mixed with your 
 
 mirth. 
 As to burning down houses and ruining folks, 
 
 D 33 
 
 I 
 
 % 
 
And flaring about like a Fire-king's daughter, — 
 A 11 n-w me to say there's no fim in such jokes, 
 
 'Tvould far better have been 
 
 To have copied TJndine, — 
 There's no harm in a mixture of spirits and wafer ! 
 
 
 \ 
 
 
 ■--,s^^J^^ 
 
O' 
 
 yE EIGHT ANCIENT BALLAD 
 
 OF 
 
 YE COMBAT OF KIIS'G TIDEICA WITH Y^ 
 DRAGON. 
 
 ET for the marcli of intellect, 
 The schoolmaster's ahroa, 
 And still the cry is raised on high 
 
> 
 
 4"^ 
 
 GATHERED LEAVES. 
 
 Obey his mighty ■word ! 
 Where'er we go, both high and low, 
 
 Bow down before his nod ; 
 And the sceptre may hide its jewell'd pride 
 
 For our sceptre's the birchen rod. 
 
 And all " enlighten' d citizens " and " learned brothers " 
 
 That the world was never 
 
 One half so clever 
 As it is in the present day. 
 
 Now I deny 
 
 This general cry ; 
 And wOl proceed to tell you why 
 I've long since come to the conclusion, 
 'Tis all a popular delusion. 
 
 I 
 
 I have seen many a wild-beast show. 
 From the day when Messrs. Pidcock and Co. 
 Were what vulgar people call all-the-go, 
 To the time when society mourned for the 
 
 loss 
 (All felt it, but no one like poor Mr. Cross) 
 Of the elephant "Chuney," who went mad, 'tis 
 saidj 
 36 
 
GATHERED LEAVES. 
 
 "With the pressure and pain 
 He felt in his brain 
 From constantly bearing a trunh on his head. 
 
 And I have set eye on 
 
 That magnanimous lion, 
 
 Brave Wallace — oh, fye on 
 
 The brutes who could hie on 
 
 Fierce bull-dogs to fly on 
 His monarchical mane ! I declare I could cry on 
 The bare thought, as one weeps when one goes to sec 
 "Ion." 
 
 And lately I've been 
 Down to Astley's, and seen 
 His wonderful elephants act ; what they mean 
 By their actions, I've not the most distant idea ; 
 Why they stand on their heads, why they wag their fat 
 
 tails. 
 Are to me hidden mysteries, " very like whales," 
 As Hamlet remarks of some cloud he is certain 
 He perceives up aloft, whence they let down the 
 
 curtain. 
 And whither they draw up the fairies and goddesses, 
 With their pretty pink legs and inadequate bodices. 
 
 37 
 
 I- 
 
GATHERED LEAVES. 
 
 But of all the beasts I ever did see, 
 "WTietlier of low or Mgli degree, 
 
 Despite the " Bchoolmaster," 
 
 And " going a-head faster," 
 
 The arts and the sciences, 
 
 And all their appliances, 
 JSTever an animal, chain'd or loose, 
 
 As yet have I heard 
 
 "Utter one single word. 
 Or so much as attempt to say " Bo! " to a goose. 
 
 But you'll see, if you read the next two or three pages, 
 That in what people now-a-days term the dark ages, 
 When the world was some thousand years younger or so, 
 Beasts could talk very well ; ana it wasn't thought low 
 For a real live monarch his prowess to brag on. 
 And bandy high words with an iasolent dragon. 
 
HE good King Tidrich. rode from Bern* 
 
 (And a funny name had lie), 
 His charger "was bay, and he took his way 
 Under the greenwood-tree ; 
 And ever he sang, as he rode along, 
 " 'Tis a very fine thing 
 To be a crown'd king, 
 And to feel one's right arm strong." 
 
 S 
 
 King Tidrich was clad in armour of proof 
 
 ("Whatever that may be). 
 And his helmet shone with many a stone. 
 
 Inserted cunningly ; 
 "While on his shield one might behold 
 A lion trying 
 To set off flying, 
 Emblazon'd in bumish'd gold. 
 
 * King Tidrich, Dietrich, or Theoderic, the son of Thietmar, king 
 of Bern, and the fair Odilia, daughter of Essung Jarl, was, as it were, 
 the central hero of that well-known, 'poptdar, and interesting work, the 
 " Book of Heroes," which relates the deeds of the champions who 
 attached themselves to him, and the manner in which they joined his 
 fellowship. 
 
 39 
 
GATHERED LEAVES, 
 
 King Tidricli was counting his money o'er, 
 As lie rode the greenwood through, 
 
 "When he was aware of a " shocking affair," 
 And a terrible " to-do : " 
 
 Then loudly he shouted with pure delight, 
 
 "A glorious row, 
 
 I make mine avow ; 
 I'll on, and view the fight." 
 40 
 
 
s 
 
 GATHERED LEAVES, 
 
 And a fearful sight it was, I ween, 
 
 As ever a king did see. 
 For a dragon old, and a lion bold, 
 
 "Were striving wrathfuUy ; 
 But the monarcli perceived from the veiy first — 
 And it made him sad. 
 For " a reason he had " — 
 That the lion would get the worst. 
 
 When the Hon saw the royal Knight, 
 
 These were the words he said : 
 "0 mighty King, assistance bring, 
 
 Or I am fairly sped ; 
 For the battle has been both fierce and long ; 
 Two days and a night 
 Have I urged the fight. 
 But the dragon's unpleasantly strong." 
 
 In a kind of Low Dutch did the Hon speak, 
 
 Nor his stops did he neglect. 
 But e'en iu his hurry, for Lindley Murray 
 
 Preserved a marked respect ; 
 And he managed his H's according to rule : 
 FuU well I ween 
 Must the beast have been 
 Taught at some Public School. 
 
 41 
 
 1 
 
Long paused the royal hero then, 
 
 Grave thoughts pass'd through his brain ; 
 Of his queen thought he, and his fair countrie* 
 
 He never might see again ; 
 He thought of his ■warriors, that princely band, 
 Of Eckhart true, 
 And Helmsohrot too. 
 And "Wolfort's red right hand.f 
 
 But he thought of the Hon he bore on his shield. 
 
 And he mann'd his noble breast, — 
 " 'Twixt the Uon and me there is sympathy, 
 
 And a dragon I detest ; 
 I must not see the lion slain ; 
 Both kings are we, 
 In our degree, 
 I of the city and he of the plain." 
 
 The first stroke that the monarch made. 
 
 His weapon tasted blood ; 
 From many a scale of the dragon's mail 
 
 Pour'd forth the crimson flood. 
 
 * Tidrich of Bern was also king of Aumlungaland (Italy) ; he 
 espoused Herraud, daughter of King Druaiad, a relation of Attila. 
 
 t These three champions were among the eleven heroes who accom- 
 panied Tidrich in his memorable expedition to contend against the 
 twelve guardians of the Garden of Koses at Worms. 
 42 
 
 i 
 

 ■^i^^- 
 
 =^==r5^5;^fe 
 
 GATHERED lEAVES. 
 
 But when the hero si ruck again, 
 
 The treacherous sword 
 
 Forsook its lord, 
 And brake in pieces twain. 
 
 The dragon laid Tiim on her hack 
 
 With a triumphant air, 
 And flung the horse her jaws across. 
 
 As a greyhound would seize a hare. 
 At a fearful pace to her rocky den. 
 To serve as food 
 Por her young hrood 
 Away she tore them then. 
 
 They were a charming family, 
 
 Eleven little frights, 
 "With deep surprise in their light green eyes. 
 
 And fearful appetites ; 
 And they wagg'd their tales with extreme delight, 
 For to dine on king 
 Is a dainty thing 
 "When one usually dines on Knight. 
 
 Before them then the steed she threw, 
 
 Saddle, and bridle, and crupper, 
 And bade them crunch its bones for lunch, 
 
 "While they saved the king for supper ; 
 
GATHERED LEAVES. 
 
 Saying, she must sleep ere she could sup, 
 
 For after the fight 
 
 With the lion and knight, 
 She was thoroughly used-up. 
 
 A lucky chance for Tidrich : 
 
 He sought the dark cave over, 
 And scoa the King did Adelring,* 
 
 That famous sword discover : 
 " And was it here that Siegfried died ? f 
 That champion brave, 
 "Was this his grave ? " 
 In grief the moharch cried. 
 
 " I have ridden with him in princely hosts, 
 I have feasted with him in hall ; 
 
 Sword, you and I will do or die, 
 But we'll avenge his fall." 
 
 * They had a weakness for naming swords in those days, just as in 
 the nineteenth century we delight in bestowing euphonious titles on 
 " villa residences," puppy dogs, and men-of-war. 
 
 t Sigurd, or Siegfried, son of Sigmond, king of Netherland, is the 
 chief hero of the Nibelungen Lay. There are various accounts of his 
 death ; one of the least improbable supposes him to have been destroyed 
 by a dragon. 
 44 
 
!t 
 
 GATHERBB LEAVES 
 
 Against the cavern's rocky side 
 
 The king essay' d 
 
 The trusty blade, 
 Till the flames gleam'd far and wide. 
 
 Up rose a youthful dragon then, 
 
 Eight pallid was his hue ; 
 For with fear and ire he view'd the fire 
 
 From out the rock that flew. 
 These words he to the king did say : 
 
 " If the noise thou dost make 
 
 Should our mother awake. 
 It is thou wUt rue the day." 
 
 " Be silent, thou young viper," 
 'Twas thus the king replied, 
 " Thy mother slew Siegfried the true, 
 
 A hero brave and tried ; 
 And vengeance have I vow'd to take 
 Upon ye all, 
 Both great and small. 
 For that dear warrior's sake." 
 
 Then he aroused the dragon old. 
 
 Attacked her with his sword. 
 And a fearful fight, with strength and might, 
 
 Fought he, that noble lord. 
 
 45 
 
 
 jT-^ 
 
GATHERED LEAVES. 
 
 The dragon's fiery breath, I ween, 
 
 Made his cuirass stout 
 
 Eed hot throughout : 
 Such a sight was never seen. 
 
 Despair lent strength to the monarch then ; 
 
 A mighty stroke he made, 
 Through the dragon's neck, without a check, 
 
 He passed his trenchant blade. 
 At their mother's fall, each little fright 
 Began to yell 
 Like an imp of hell, 
 And nearly stunn'd the knight. 
 
 He struck right and left with Adelring, 
 
 That trusty sword and good. 
 And in pieces small chopp'd each and aU 
 
 Of the dragon's hateful brood. 
 King Tidrioh thus at honour's call, 
 On German Land, 
 "With his strong right hand. 
 Avenged bold Siegfried's fall. 
 
 Now ye whose spirits thrill to hear 
 
 The trumpet-voice of fame. 
 Or love to read of warrior deed, 
 
 Eemember Tidrich's name ; 
 46 
 
And mourn that the days of cMvaby 
 
 Are past and o'er, 
 
 And live no more, 
 Save in their glorious memory. 
 
 Yet when Prince Albert rides abroad, 
 
 Our gracious Queen may feel 
 As ■well content, as if he went, 
 
 Encased in plates of steel ; 
 Eelying on the new Police, 
 
 Those bulwarks of the state. 
 That on their beat, no dragons eat 
 
 The Prince off his own plate ! 
 
 [Should any reader wish to learn more of the various personages 
 here mentioned, we refer him to the " Illustrations of Northern Anti- 
 quities, from the earlier Teutonic and Scandinavian Romances," to 
 which we are indebted for our information on the subject.] 
 
GATHERED LEAVES 
 
 THE ENCHANTED NET. 
 
 OULD we only give credit to half we are told, 
 There were sundry strange monsters existing 
 of old : 
 
 As evinced (on the ex pede Merculem plan, 
 
 Which from merely a footstep presumes the whole man) 
 
 i 
 
 <* 
 
GATHERED LEAVES. 
 
 By our Savans disturbing those very large bones, 
 "Wliich. tave tum'd (for the rhyme's sake, perhaps) into 
 stones, 
 
 And have chosen to wait a 
 
 Long ■while hid in strata, 
 While old Time has been dining on empires and thrones. 
 
 Old hones and dry bones, 
 
 Leg-bones and thigh-bones, 
 Bones of the vertebrae, hones of the tail, — 
 Very like, only more so, the bones of a whale ; 
 Bones that were very long, bones that were very short 
 (They have never as yet found a real fossil merry- 
 thought ; 
 Perchance because mastodons, burly and big, 
 Consider'd all funny-bones quite infra dig.) ; 
 Skulls have they found in strange places embedded. 
 Which, at least, prove their owners were very long- 
 headed ; 
 And other queer things, — which 'tis not my intentioD, 
 Lest I weary your patience, at present to mention, — 
 As I think I can prove, without further apology. 
 What I said to be true, sans appeal to geology, 
 That there lived in the good old days gone by 
 Things imknown to our modern philosophy. 
 And a giant was then no more out of the way 
 Than a dwarf is now iu the present day, 
 
 E 40 
 
 m 
 
 
 
 
Sir Eppo of Epstein was young, brave, and fair ; 
 Dark were the curls of Ms clustering hair, 
 Dark tlie moustache that o'ershadow'd his lip, 
 And his glance was as keen as the sword at his hip ; 
 Tho' the enemy's charge was like lightning's fierce shock, 
 His seat was as firm as the wave-heaten rock ; 
 And woe to the foeman, whom pride or mischance 
 Opposed to the stroke of his conquering lance. 
 He carved at the hoard, and he danced in the hall. 
 And the ladies admired him, each one and all. 
 In a word, I should say, he appears to have been 
 ^Vs nice a young " ritter" as ever was seen. 
 
 He could not read nor write, 
 Ho could not spell his name. 
 
 Towards being a clerk. Sir Eppo, his (j-) maik, 
 
 "Was as near as ever he came. 
 50 
 
GATHERED LEAVES. 
 
 He had felt no vexation 
 
 From multiplication ; 
 
 Never puzzled was lie 
 
 By the rule of three ; 
 
 The practice he'd had 
 
 Did not drive him mad, 
 
 Because it all lay 
 
 Quite a different way. 
 The Asses' Bridge, that Bridge of Sighs, 
 Had (lucky dog!) ne'er met his eyes. 
 In a very few words he express'd his intention 
 Once for all to decline every Latin declension, 
 When persuaded to add, hy the good Father Herman, 
 That most classical tongue to his own native German. 
 
 And no doubt he was right in 
 
 Point of fact, for a knight in 
 Those days was supposed to like nothing hut fighting ; 
 And one who had leam'd any language that is hard 
 Would have stood a good chance of being burn'd for a 
 
 wizard. 
 Education being then never push'd to the verge yo 
 Now see it, was chiefly confined to the clergy. 
 
 'Twas a southerly wind and a cloudy sky. 
 For aught that I know to the contrary ; 
 If it wasn't, it ought to have been proper/y 
 
 ^ 
 
 ^^=^V^^^^=== 
 
p 
 
 As it's certain Sir Eppo, his feather hed scorning, 
 Thought that something proclaim'd it a fine hunting 
 morning ; 
 
 So, pronouncing his henison 
 
 O'er a cold haunch of venison, 
 He floor'd the best half, drank a gallon of beer. 
 And set out on the Taurus to chase the wild deer. 
 
 Sir Eppo he rode through the good greenwood. 
 
 And his bolts flew fast and free ; 
 
 He knock'd over a hare, and he passed the lair 
 
 (The tenant was out) of a grisly bear ; 
 
 He started a wolf, and he got a snap shot 
 
 At a bounding roe, but he touched it not. 
 
 Which caused him to mutter a naughty word 
 
 In German, which luckUy nobody heard, 
 
 For he said it right viciously ; 
 
 And he struck his steed with his armed heel. 
 
 As though horse-flesh were tougher than iron or steel, 
 
 Or anything else that's unable to feel. 
 
 /*! 
 
 m 
 
 ^' yi; -,'■-. 
 
 What is the sound that meets his ear ? 
 Is it the plaint of some wounded deer ? 
 Is it the wild-fowl's mournful cry. 
 Or the scream of yon eagle soaring high ? 
 52 
 
 ^i^i:^^(i?ks#r^ 
 
GATHERED LEWES 
 
 Or is it only the southern breeze 
 
 As it sighs through the boughs of the dark pine trees ? 
 
 'No, Sir Eppo, be sure 'tis not any of these : 
 
 And hark, again ! 
 
 It comes more plain — 
 'Tis a woman's voice in grief or pain. 
 
 Like an arrow from the string, 
 Like a stone that leaves the sling. 
 Like a railroad-train "with a queen inside, 
 "With directors to poke and directors to guide, 
 Like the rush upon deck when a vessel is sinking. 
 Like (I vow I'm hard up for a simile) winking ! 
 In less time than by name yon Jack Eobinson can 
 
 call. 
 Sir Eppo dash'd forward o'er hedge, ditch, and hollow, 
 In a steeple-chase style I'd be sorry to follow, 
 And found a young lady chain' d up by the ankle — 
 Yes, chain'd up in a cool and business-like way, 
 As if she'd been only the little dog Tray ; 
 While, the more to secure any knight-errant' s pity. 
 She was really and truly excessively pretty. 
 
 Here was a terrible state of things ! 
 Down from his saddle Sir Eppo springs, 
 
^ 
 
 GATHERED LEAVES. 
 
 As lightly as if he -were furnish'd with wings, 
 
 While every plate in his armour rings. 
 
 The words that he utter'd were short and few, 
 
 But pretty much to the purpose too. 
 
 As sternly he asked, with lowering brow, 
 
 " Who's been and done it, and where is he now ?" 
 
 'Twere long to tell 
 
 Each word that fell 
 From the coral lips of that demoiselle ; 
 However, as far as I'm able to see. 
 The pith of the matter appear'd to be 
 That a horrible giant, twelve feet high, 
 Having gazed on her charms with a covetous eye. 
 Had storm'd their castle, murder'd papa, 
 Behaved very rudely to poor dear mamma, 
 Walk'd o£f with the family jewels and plate. 
 And the tin and herself at a terrible rate ; 
 
 Then by way of conclusion 
 
 To all this confusion. 
 
 Tied her up like a dog 
 
 To a nasty great log. 
 To induce her (the brute) to become Mrs. Gog ; 
 That 'twas not the least use for Sir Eppo to try 
 To chop oflf his head, or to poke out his eye, 
 54 
 
 <' 
 
As he'd early in life done a bit of AcLilles 
 
 (Which, far better than taking an "Old Parr's life- 
 piU" is), 
 
 Had been dipp'd in the Styx, or some equally old 
 stream, 
 
 And might now face unharm'd a battalion of Cold- 
 stream. 
 
 
 But she'd thought of a scheme 
 Which did certainly seem 
 Very likely to pay — ^no mere vision or di-eam : — 
 It appears that the giant each day took a nap 
 For an hour (the wretch !) with his head in her lap : 
 Oh, she hated it so ! but then what could she do ? 
 Here she paused, and Sir Eppo remark'd, " Very true ; " 
 And that during this time one might pinch, punch, or 
 
 shake him. 
 Or do just what one pleased, but that nothing could 
 
 wake him. 
 While each horse and each man in the emperor's pay 
 Would not be sufficient to move him away. 
 Without magical aid, from the spot where he lay. 
 In an old oak chest, in an up-stairs room 
 Of poor papa's castle, was kept an heir-loom, 
 An enchanted net, made of iron links. 
 Which was brought from Palestine, she thinks. 
 

 GATHERED LEAVES 
 
 Ey her great grandpapa, who had been a Crasader ; 
 If she had but got that, she "was sure it would aid her. 
 
 Sir Eppo, kind man, 
 
 Approves of the plan ; 
 Says he'U do all she wishes as quick as he can ; 
 Begs she wont fret if the time should seem long ; 
 Snatches a kiss, which was "pleasant but wrong;" 
 Mounts, and taking a fence in good fox-hunting style, 
 Sets off for her family-seat on the WeU. 
 
 fttfef 
 
 The sun went down. 
 The bright stars burn'd. 
 
 The morning came. 
 And the knight return' d ; 
 The net he spread 
 O'er the giant's bed, 
 "While Eglantine, and Hare-bell blue. 
 And some nice green moss on the spot he threw ; 
 Lest perchance the monster alarm should take, 
 And not choose to sleep from being too tcide awake. 
 Hark to that sound ! 
 The rocks around 
 Tremble — ^it shakes the very ground ; 
 
 "While Irmengard cries. 
 As tears stream from her eyes, — 
 A lady-like weakness we must not despise — 
 50 
 
 i-^-^ 
 
Ah 
 m 
 
 (And here, let me add, I have been much to blame, 
 As I long ago ought to have mention'd her name) : 
 "Here he comes! now do hide yourself, dear Eppo, 
 
 pray; 
 !For mt/ sake, I entreat you, keep out of his way." 
 
 Scarce had the knight 
 
 Time to get out of sight 
 Among some thick bushes, which cover'd him quite. 
 Ere the giant appear'd. Oh ! he was such a fright ! 
 He was very square built, a good twelve feet in 
 
 height, 
 And his waistcoat (three yards round the waist) seem'd 
 
 too tight ; 
 While, to add even yet to all this singularity. 
 He had but one eye, and his whiskers were carroty. 
 
 "What an anxious moment ! Will he lie down ? 
 Ah, how their hearts beat ! he seems to frown, — 
 1^0 ; 'tis only an impudent fly that's been teasing 
 His snublime proboscis, and set him a sneezing. 
 
 Attish^hu ! attish hu ! 
 
 You brute, how I wish you 
 Were but as genteel as the Irish lady. 
 
 Dear Mrs. 0' Grady, 
 Who, chancing to sneeze in a noble duke's face. 
 Hoped she hadn't been guilty of splashing his Grace. 
 
 Skj;; 
 
 ife. 
 
GATHERED LEAVES. 
 
 Now, look out. Yes, he will ! No, lie won't ! By 
 
 the powers ! 
 I thought he was taking alarm at the flowers ; 
 But it luckily seems, his gigantic invention 
 Has at once set them down as a little attention 
 On Irmengard's part, — done hy way of suggestion 
 That she means to say " Yes," when he next pops the 
 
 question. 
 
 There ! he's down ! now he yawns, and in one minute 
 
 more — 
 I thought so, he's safe — ^he's beginning to snore ; 
 He is wrapp'd in that sleep he shall wake from no 
 
 more. 
 From his girdle the knight takes a ponderous key ; 
 It fits — and once more is fair Irmengard free. 
 
 Prom heel to head, and from head to heel, 
 
 They wrap their prey in that net of steel, 
 
 And they crocM the edges together with care. 
 
 As you finish a purse for a fancy-fair, 
 
 Till the last knot is tied by the diligent pair. 
 
 At length they have ended their business laborious. 
 
 And Eppo shouts, " Bagg'd him, by all that is 
 
 glorious ! " 
 
 58 
 
 ^2*^^ 
 
^ 
 
 GATHERED LEAVES. 
 
 'No billing and cooing. 
 You must up and be doing. 
 Depend on't, Sir KnigM, this is no time for wooing ; 
 You'll discover, unless you progress rather smarter, 
 That catching a giant's like catching a Tartar : 
 He still has some thirty-flve minutes to sleep. 
 Close to this spot hangs a precipice steep, 
 Like Shakspeare's tall cliff which they show one at 
 
 Dover ; 
 Drag him down to the brink, and then let him roll over ; 
 As they scarce make a capital crime of infanticide, 
 There can't be any harm in a little giganticide. 
 
 " Pull him, and haul him ! take care of his head ! 
 
 Oh, how my arms ache — ^he's as heavy as lead ! 
 
 That'll do, love — I'm sure I can move him alone, 
 
 Though I'm certain the brute weighs a good forty stone. 
 
 Yo ! heave ho ! roU him along 
 
 (It's exceedingly lucky the net's pretty strong) ; 
 
 Once more — ^that's it — there, now, I think 
 
 He's done to a turn, he rests on the brink ; 
 
 At it again, and over he goes 
 
 To furnish a feast for the hooded crows ; 
 
 Each vulture that makes the Taurus his home 
 
 May dine upon giant for months to come." 
 
^/.W-^r.- 
 
 m 
 
 ^"^ 
 
 ^^^^!S==-<— 
 
 GATHERED LEAVES, 
 
 Lives there a man so thick of head 
 To whom it must in words be said, 
 How Eppo did the lady wed, 
 And built upon the giant's bed 
 
 A castle, wall'd and turreted ? 
 "We will hope not ; or if there be, 
 Defend us from his company ! 
 
 60 
 
 
 ^ 
 
 i 
 
 
 5ES/=Pv>3ii 
 
A FYTTE OF THE BLUES. 
 
 (^Jir — "The Old Enqlish Gentleman.") 
 
 F Woman's rights and Woman's wrongs we've 
 
 heard much talk of late, 
 The first seem most extensive, and the latter 
 very great ; 
 
 And Mrs. Ellis warns men, not themselves to agitate, 
 For 'neath petticoats and pinafores is hid the future fate 
 Of this wondrous nineteenth century, the youngest 
 child of Time ! 
 
 The Turks they had a notion, fit alone for Turks and 
 
 fools. 
 That womankind has no more mind than horses or than 
 
 mules; 
 But this idea's exploded quite, as to your eost you'll 
 
 find. 
 If you intend to change or hend some stalwart female 
 
 mind. 
 In this Amazonian century, precocious child of Time. 
 
 61 
 
 
> 
 
 GATHERED LEAVES 
 
 If by external signs you seek this strength, of mind to 
 
 trace, 
 You 'U observe a very ' ' powerful ' ' expression in her face ; 
 The lady's stockings will be blue, and inky be her hand. 
 And her head quite full of something hard she doesn't 
 understand. 
 Like a puzzle-pated Bluestocking, one of the modern 
 time. 
 
 i 
 
 And her dress will be peculiar both in fabric and in make, 
 An artistic classic tragic highly-talented mistake ; 
 Which is what she calls " effective," though I'd rather 
 
 not express 
 The effect produced on thoughtless minds by such a 
 style of di'ess, 
 When worn by some awful Bluestocking, one of the 
 modem time. 
 
 She'll talk about statistics, and ask if you 're inclined 
 To join the progress movement for development of mind. 
 If you inquire what that means, she '11 frown and say 
 
 'tis best 
 Such matter should be understood, but never be ex- 
 press'd, 
 By a stern suggestive Bluestocking, in this mystic 
 modern time. 
 62 
 
She'll converse upon sesttetics, and then refer to 
 
 figures, 
 And turn from Angels bright and fair to sympathise 
 
 with Niggers, 
 
 Whom she'll style " our sable brethren," and pretend 
 
 are martyrs quite ; 
 And with Mrs. H — t B — r St — e, she'll swear that 
 black is white. 
 Like a trans-Atlantic Bluestocking, one of the modern 
 time. 
 
 G3 
 
 i 
 
 rrn 
 
She never makes a pudding, and she never makes a 
 
 shirt, 
 And if she's got some little blues, they're black and 
 
 blue with dirt ; 
 When the wretched man her husband comes, though 
 
 tired he may be. 
 She'll regenerate society instead of making tea, 
 
 Like a real strong-minded Bluestocking, the plague 
 of the modem time. 
 
 MORAL. 
 
 The moral of my song is this, just leave all " ics " and 
 
 "ologies" 
 For men to exercise their brains, on platforms and in 
 
 colleges ; 
 Let woman's proud and honour'd place be still the 
 
 fireside. 
 And still man's household deities, his mother and his 
 
 bride, 
 In this our nineteenth century, the favour'd child of 
 Time. 
 
 m 
 
 f 
 
 c 
 
 
 :m.4 
 
 ■ li^^'^'w^SJ^PC^^ 
 
GATHERED LEAVES 
 
 THE FORFEIT HAND; 
 
 A LEGEND OP BEABiNT.* 
 
 EEALDUS the Abbot sat bolt upright, 
 Bolt upright, in his great arm-chair. 
 He ground his teeth, and his beard beneath, 
 Seemed crSpi with anger eyery hair ; 
 And every hair, whether grizzled or white. 
 On his head stood erect (as so often the case is, 
 Whene'er fury or fear better feeling effaces). 
 Thus encircling his tonsure, which same a smooth space is 
 In the desert of scalp a monastic oasis ! 
 
 Geraldus the Abbot his temper had lost. 
 Insult had faU'n on the Prelate proud — 
 
 Heretic hands in a blanket had tost 
 Lay Brother Ludwig, one of the crowd 
 
 * The facts (?) of this Legend are taken, by poetical license, from 
 Legends of the Khine," by the author of "Highways and Byways." 
 F Go 
 
 
 
GATHERED LEAVES. 
 
 Of the Abbot's dependants, a useful and able man, 
 Neither fisli, flesh, nor fowl, half a friar, half stable- 
 man. 
 But this shaking his brain so completely had addled. 
 That the next time Geraldus's palfrey he saddled, 
 He forgot both the girths — an important omission, 
 "Which occasion'd a sudden and rude imposition 
 On our general Mamma : (we allude to the Earth, 
 Who most kindly supports us, who gave our race 
 
 birth. 
 And will give, when breath fails, and we cannot re- 
 place it, 
 Furnish'd lodgings, a stone, and the motto, "Hie jacet") 
 
 " lEo" did "jacet" Geraldus, when rashly he tried, 
 Foot in stirrup, to climb to his saddle and ride ; 
 
 For the saddle turn'd round, 
 
 And he came to the ground. 
 With a hollow and pectoral " woughf" kind of sound. 
 
 (Printing cannot express it, 
 
 But 'twill help you to guess it. 
 If you've ever remark'd the peculiar behavioui-, 
 When he rams a large stone, of an Irish pavier. ) 
 
 Well, he wasn't much hurt, 
 
 But appear'd from the dirt, 
 66 
 
 ^nM^ 
 
 s'iSpt— 
 
Whicli adhered to his mitre and robes, to be rather 
 A ghastly and horrible sight for a Father 
 Confessor, who ere he thus rudely was tost 
 In the mire, was got up regardless of cost. 
 
 For this fall he vow'd vengeance, and straightway on 
 
 that theme a 
 "Writ was prepared which wound up with "Anathema ! '' 
 
n. 
 
 Yolenta of Gorterykc sat in her bower, 
 
 "Which. Tivas not an arhour 
 
 Where earwigs might harbour, 
 And availing themselves of some al fresco tea-table. 
 Lie and kick on their backs amidst everything 
 
 eatable, 
 But the very best room in the very best tower. 
 
 Yolenta was young and Yolenta was fair. 
 
 She'd extremely pink cheeks and extremely smooth 
 hair. 
 And a pair of bright eyes with so roguish a glance in 'em, 
 That the spirit of mischief and fun seem'd to dance in 
 
 'em ; 
 And a sweet little foot and a dear little hand. 
 And a thorough-bred air, and a look of command. 
 As noble a lady as one in the land. 
 
 Yet Yolenta had " suffer'd ;"— her little affairs 
 Of the heart had gone roughly, a custom of theirs 
 From time immemorial, since Helen lost Troy, 
 And pious ^neas made Dido a toy 
 Of the moment, then left her, a striking variety. 
 In the uniform course of his orthodox piety. 
 A young gent was her first love, of birth and condi- 
 tion, 
 "Whose very name, Loridon, seem'd an admission 
 68 
 
 

 GATHERED LEAVR3. 
 
 =.=.^3a 
 
 He was form'd to adore, but then what's in q name ? 
 Had they christen'd him Jack, she'd have " loved him 
 
 the same," 
 Because — mark the reason — her Pa had been rude 
 To his Guv'nor, ■which led to a family feud. 
 So the Lord Lettelhausen called up his son Loridon, 
 And exclaim'd, " Of all girls, to have fixed on that 
 
 horrid one ! 
 The daughter, you scamp, of the man I detest ! 
 But I '11 never consent ! if I do, I 'U be — blest ! 
 Miss Tolenta, indeed! why, my garters and stars! 
 This is worse than your tricks with latch-keys and 
 
 cigars ! 
 Xow, be off to the wars, nor on any pretences. 
 Show your face here again till you've come to your 
 
 senses." 
 
 So Malhrook se va-t-en guerre, 
 In a state of deep despair. 
 
 Then Yolenta's papa thought he'd best take a part in it, 
 By performing the r6le of the tyrant and martinet. 
 And proposed as a suitor, 
 An old coadjutor 
 In many a dark deed, which no one but a brute or 
 Barbarian would perpetrate, one Baron Corteryke, 
 Whom he coolly inform'd her she certainly ought to like, 
 
 69 
 
 «i«*-;:?->TS^i&. 
 
=pm 
 
 GATHERED LEAVES. 
 
 But, whether or no, in a week's time must marry — 
 And his wUl being the law, 
 This medioBval Bashaw 
 Pooh-pooh'd Ma'mselle's suggestion of wishing to tarrA", 
 And so, sending to Gunter, got up, like John Parry, 
 A first-rate entertainment, and vast charivari ; 
 But yet, after all, was unable to cany 
 Out his cruel intentions, for 'twixt cup and Up 
 There occurr'd in this case a most notable slip ; 
 To describe it, our metre we've stol'n, 'twill be seen, 
 Prom the song of one "Jock," who's sirnamed Hazel- 
 dean. 
 
 The kirk was deckt at Eventide, 
 
 The tapers glimmer'd fair. 
 The Baron Coi-t'ryke sought his bride, 
 
 And this time she teas there ! 
 She said, ' I will,' as if a piU 
 
 Had stuck within her throat, 
 But fortune kind was still inclined 
 
 To grant an antidote ; 
 
 70 
 
 ' For scarce beside the altar stone, 
 The nuptial knot was tied, 
 When some vile party, name unknown, 
 Stabb'd Cort'ryke in the side ! 
 
His anguish sore, not long he bore, 
 
 Physicians wor in vain, 
 Death did consider him and his widder, 
 
 And eased him of his pain." 
 
 So the lovely Tolenta "was " quit for the fright," 
 Took the name, tin, and castle (a rare widow's mite), 
 And wonder'd how Loridonfared in the flght. 
 
 " It was Geraldus' serving man, 
 
 Ludwigus he was hight, 
 For fair Bettye, that damsel free, 
 
 He sigh'd both day and night ; 
 Fair Bettye at the tapestry wrought, 
 
 In Dame Tolenta' s bower; 
 To ease the pain of this her swain, 
 
 She laok'd both wiU and power. 
 
 " Dan Cupid, that misohesvous boy, 
 
 Ludwig to sorrow brought ; 
 For ogling of the fair Bettye, 
 
 Him, Dame Tolenta caught ; 
 And as in true love men are still 
 
 (As well as oysters) cross' d, 
 Ludwig, to cure his fantasy, 
 
 "Was in a blanket toss'd." 
 
 ^^ 
 
^^'n±ii-~^ 
 
 ^¥ 
 
 GATHERED LEAVES. 
 
 " Sine nice lachrymm," thence all these woes ! 
 Prom this pitching and tossing the shindy arose ! 
 
 'Tis the voice of a herald! I heard him proclaim, 
 That he carries a summons for Corteryke's dame, 
 
 Which sets forth ho"w that same 
 
 Fair lady's to blame. 
 For the high misdemeanour, the sin, and the shame, 
 Of tossing a lay brother, Ludwig by name. 
 In a blantet, whereby she did cut, wound, and 
 
 And maliciously injure, and wilfully lame. 
 
 And despitefully maltreat, deride, and make game, 
 
 And confuse, and abuse, and misuse, and defame I 
 
 A monk of Saint Benedict, 
 
 Which by a then edict 
 Was a legal offence ; so Tolenta was cited 
 
 To appear, and show cause 
 
 Why she'd broken the laws. 
 At the next petty sessions, where she was invited 
 To plead in her own proper person, and wait a 
 Decree from my Lord LetteLhausen, the pater 
 Of poor banish'd Loridon, likewise the frater 
 Of the plaintiff Geraldus, an excellent hater 
 Of all who opposed him, a reg'lar first-rater. 
 Full of envy and malice, a real aggravator. 
 
 -'J-V 
 
 ^ 
 
 
m 
 
 -9- 
 
 
 GATHERED LEAVES. 
 
 Wlio'd. have charmed Doctor Johnson, that leam'd com- 
 mentator, 
 Had he chanced but to live a few centuries later. 
 
 The herald he stood in the castle hall, 
 
 Seneschal, warder, and page, were there ; 
 
 And he read his citation fair and free. 
 
 In a baritone voice that went up to G, 
 As loudly as he could bawl. 
 
 And he clear' d his throat, and he push'd back his hair 
 
 With a negligent, nonchalant, jaunty air; 
 
 As though he would ask of the bystanding "parties," — 
 
 " Pri'thee, what do ye think of me, my hearties?" 
 
 Yolenta she smiled, and Tolenta she frown'd. 
 And her delicate foot in a pet tapp'd the ground ; 
 And when she tum'd to the herald to greet him. 
 The flash of her eye seem'd to say she could eat him ; 
 Though their points curl'd up to the knees of his trews, 
 I'd have been sorry to stand in his shoes. 
 Then she answer'd biTn shortly and sweetly, — 
 
 " You're a bold man. Sir Herald, I trow — 
 A bold and an insolent man I ween ; 
 
 A scurrilous knave, I make mine avow ; 
 But perhaps you may find that I'm not quite so gi-een 
 As your masters imagine. You've done it most featly 
 
 
 i 
 
 h3 
 
 < 
 
This time I'll allow; 
 But it struck me just now, 
 When you entered my castle to kick up this row, 
 You'd have fared quite as well if you'd journey' d on 
 
 farther ; 
 I'm afraid you've, young man, put your foot in it — 
 rather!" 
 Then she sign'd with her hand, and six mutes in black 
 armour, 
 
 As by magic appear' d, laid their lances in rest, 
 And directed their points to the herald's bare breast. 
 74 
 
^.^^:m 
 
 GATHERED LEAVES. 
 
 A sight wliioli it must be confess'd might alarm a 
 Brave man in those very unscrupulous days, 
 When a life, more or less, was a mere bagatelle ; 
 And when sticking a porker, or stabbing a swell. 
 Were alike household duties — a singular phase 
 In those " sweet" Middle Ages, on which such depen- 
 dence is 
 Placed by young ladies with " Puseyite" tendencies. 
 
 Howe'er this may be, 
 
 Our herald felt he 
 Had no call to assist in this felo de se ; 
 So straight fell on his knee, 
 And exclaim'd, " Don't you see, 
 i^'oble Countess Yolenta, this good jest at present 
 Is a great deal too pointed and sharp to be pleasant ? 
 
 I humbly beg pardon. 
 
 So pray don't be hard on 
 A penitent cove, whose name's printed this card on." 
 Then he handed his pasteboard, gilt type, and a border. 
 Stamped, 
 
 
 5® I1O501:. 
 
 I^ralbit faork farras^tb to orb^r. 
 
 m 
 
 ^^t^=^== 
 
Tolcnta she smiled, and Tolenta she frown'd, 
 Then light rang her laugh with its silvery sound. 
 " Rise, valiant De Eodon," she mockingly cried, 
 "And behold by what foemen your mettle's been tried." 
 Then each sable spearsman his vizor unclasps. 
 And six laughing girls with bright mischievous eyes, 
 Poke their fun at De Eodon, who's mute with surprise 
 And disgust, while Yolenta her riding wand grasps, 
 Shai-ply switches the recreant kneeling before her. 
 
 And turns to depart, — 
 
 "When up with a start 
 Springs De Eodon, and pallid with anger leans o'er 
 
 her. 
 Then hisses these words in her ear, — "Ere you smile 
 Or rejoice in your stratagem, listen awhile, 
 And learn that a herald discharging his duty 
 Is sacred ; despite of your wealth, rank, and beauty. 
 For the stroke you have dealt me totir i-aik hand is 
 
 EOEPEII ; 
 
 By the axe of the headsman, ere many days, oif it 
 ShaU be hewn, and when next men to fury you goad 
 
 on, 
 Bear in mind the revenge of the herald De Eodon ! " 
 
 m 
 
 76 
 
 
 ;,y^°^'i>y'^i. 
 
GATHERED LEAVES. 
 
 '• WEN the weather is hazy, and not the least 
 sign in, 
 The clouds of their showing a silvery lining ; 
 When a bill's coming due, and youVe no 
 chance of meeting it ; 
 When old Harry's to pay, and the pitch has no heat 
 
 in it; 
 
 When yon're'thinking of popping, and suddenly find 
 That your inamorata's not that way inclined ; 
 When you've puhlish'd a novel, and find it don't sell ; 
 When you rise from the wine cup, and don't feel quite 
 
 well; 
 When some six-feet-six monster, by jealousy led. 
 Suggests " satisfaction" or "punching your head;" 
 When your wife's taken cross, or the ' ' olive-branch" sick, 
 When your wardrobe's worn out, and your tailor won't 
 
 "tick;" 
 When your money's all gone, and your creditors dun 
 for it ; 
 
 I think you'll agree. 
 That the best plan will be 
 To (I speak in the language of slang) "cut and run 
 for it." 
 
 
Thus, then, reason'd Tolenta of Corteryke, but 
 With this difference, she " ran" to avoid the "cut" 
 Of all cuts "most unkindest" (bad grammar, you 
 
 know. 
 When it's written by Shakespeare no longer is so), 
 "Which De Eodon had promised her, axe-ing her hand, 
 In a manner no woman of feeling could stand 
 With composure ; so straightway Tolenta resolved 
 To make herself scarce, which manoeuvre involved 
 Much domestic confusion ; each man and each maid 
 llequiring their wages, and board-wages, paid 
 Eor a month in advance ; while the butler grew crusty 
 As his oldest port wine ; and fair Bettye cried " Must I 
 Be the cause of this woe — from my dear mistress sever — 
 Lose my place and my perquisites ! which my endeavour 
 Has still been to draw mild. Well, I never did — neverl" 
 (Then addressing the public at large) " Did you ever?" 
 These arrangements concluded, Tolenta began 
 Packing up— the last duty of travelling man — 
 
 But the business of life 
 
 To maid, widow, or wife. 
 Except Ida Pfeiffer, that wonder, who can 
 With umbrella and tooth-brush, reach far Tucatan, 
 
 And, like Ariel, span 
 The earth with a girdle, which some commentator 
 On Shakespeare imagines must mean the Equator. 
 78 
 
■!f 
 
 GATHERED LEAVES. 
 
 "Well, she packed up her traps in a leathern valiso, 
 
 Which contain'd sundry stockings, a nice new , 
 
 hut he's 
 
 m 
 
 'So gentleman, clearly, who'd, Hobhs-like, the locks 
 Endeavour to pick of so private a box. 
 Then, by way of disguise, Dame Yolenta decided 
 Don't be horrified, dear lady-readers, though I did 
 
Myself think it strange that my heroine chose 
 To set out on her rambles attired in such clothes), 
 For convenience of trav'Uing, perhaps, to assume a 
 Mail's dress — not the epicene compromise, Bloomer, 
 But the regular masculine propria qwB marihus, 
 A male cout, a male ■waistcoat, et ceteris paribus, 
 
 A gay cap and feather, 
 
 Unfit for had weather, — 
 A sword by her side, and a fine prancing horse, 
 "Which she sat, I'm afraid, not "aside" but "across;" 
 
 With one groom to attend her — 
 
 Nought else to defend her — 
 Like a "Young Lochinvar " of the feminine gender, 
 The ill-fated Tolenta rode off at a canter. 
 And became what the stockbrokers term " a levanter." 
 
 Now you'll please to suppose. 
 That she follow'd her nose, 
 A fine aquiline organ that proudly arose. 
 Filling just the right space 
 On her bright sparkling face, 
 Excelling, as butterfly's better than grub, 
 Those unlucky " retrousses," in plain English, 
 
 " snub," 
 Which men always pretend to, and often desire. 
 But never can really and truly admire ; 
 
GATHERED LEAVES. 
 
 Ste follow'd her nose 
 
 To (I blush to disclose 
 For it does seem so forward ; but then no one knows 
 The whys and the wherefores, the cons and the pros, 
 Which decide other folks ; in the fair sex our trust is 
 Extreme ; so we'll strive not to do her iajustice.) 
 For some reason unknown, then, she follow'd her nose 
 To the camp of King Charles, in which Loridon chose 
 To wear out his exile, and solace his woes, 
 By assistiug that monarch to conquer his foes. 
 
 It were long to relate 
 
 AU the evils that Fate 
 Seem'd resolved to pour down on our heroine's pate ; 
 
 How, on reaching the camp. 
 
 She was told that a scamp 
 Of a i>ouanier, at the last town she quitted, 
 
 Had, as usual, omitted 
 To see that her passport was legally vise'd ; 
 Although, when she handed his fees to him, he said 
 
 It was all right and proper 
 
 And no one would stop her ; 
 Which was false, for it quickly appear'd by the law 
 Of the strong, she was somebody's prisoner of war ; 
 If ext, for fear iu her wrath she a breach of the peace 
 Should commit, or attempt to assault the police, 
 
 G 81 
 
 4 
 
 f 
 
GATHERED LEAVES 
 
 They disarm'd her — laid hands on her watch, cham> 
 and seal 
 (All the very best gold, and the watch not much 
 
 thicker 
 Than a mod'rate sized turnip — no end of a ticker), 
 
 And hurried her off to the then Pentonville 
 Model Prison, to wait, aU forlorn and alone, 
 And to " carve her name on the Newgate stone," 
 Till this terrible somebody's pleasure was known. 
 
 <i 
 
 The unpleasant unknown was one Giles de Laval, 
 A marshal of Prance, and a very great " pal" 
 (Or paladin rather) of King Charles le Beau, 
 (Or "le Gros," or " le Sot," 
 "Which, I really don't know ; 
 But 'twas one of the three, for there's no nation 
 
 showers 
 Such peculiar nicknames on its " governing powers " 
 
 As our trusty ally Monsieur Johnny Crapaud) ; 
 This same Giles de Laval, then, who ruled the French 
 
 host. 
 And the roast, and the coast, made the most of his post ; 
 Dealt just as he chose 
 "With his friends and his foes. 
 And was as autocratic, and nearly as fickle as, 
 That bugbear of Europe, a certain Czar Nicholas — 
 
GATHERED LEAVES, 
 
 This identical Giles, for some reason lie tad, 
 Seem'd resolved that Yolenta should "go to the bad : ' 
 (He possess'd such sharp eyes 
 They pierced through her disguise 
 At first sight, to her terror and shame and surprise), 
 So he scolded her well, wouldn't hear her confessions, 
 But retmu'd her, to answer for all her transgressions, 
 To Greraldus, in time for the next quarter sessions. 
 
 Unhappy Tolenta ! Geraldus confined her 
 In a dungeon, deep, damp, and unpleasant ; behind her 
 Was a ring in the wall, and some rusty old chains. 
 And there lay in one comer a skull void of brains, 
 And a horrid leg-bone stood upright in another, 
 Which must once have belong'd to " a man and a 
 
 brother ; " 
 Then a sturdy support, now a most "unreal mockery," 
 A relic suggestively placed there to shock her eye. 
 And bid her prepare for the doom that awaited her, — 
 For her dinner they brought her. 
 Dry bread and cold water, 
 Wretched food, and by no means enlivening drink 
 (Whatever hydraulic George Cruikshank may think 
 To the contrary), then, lest they'd not aggravated her 
 By this treatment, enough, the brutes next dissipated 
 
 her 
 
 .': 
 
GATHERED LEAVES 
 
 Last agreeable illusion : a letter was given her, 
 Sign'd and seal'd by some friendly (?) anonymous 
 
 scrivener, 
 Short, not sweet, for the missive consisted of one 
 Line, " The Lord Lettelhausenh no longer a son," — 
 
 From which pleasant aUusion, 
 
 She reach'd the conclusion, 
 That, by some vicious dodge, which she could not dis- 
 cover 
 De Laval had " used up " and expended her lover. 
 
 Unhappy Tolenta ! forsaken, heart-broken, 
 She drew from her bosom a cherish'd love-token ; 
 A dark curling lock of her Loridon's hair, 
 Kx'd her eyes on it, shed o'er it tears of despair, 
 Then devour'd it with kisses, and dropp'd on her knees. 
 To implore with deep fervour that Heaven would please 
 Pardon Loridon's sins, forgive hers, and so let her 
 Eejoin, and remain with, one whom she loved better 
 Par than life ; then o'ercome by conflicting emotions, 
 A fainting fit ended her tears and devotions. 
 
 ^^css 
 
 ^ 
 
f e fast ^mt ai §.11. 
 APINGr and yawning, 
 Their feather-beds scorning, 
 All the burghers of Ghent rose betimes in 
 the morning, 
 For a " shocking event " 
 Was to take place in Ghent, 
 And the public delighted in hangings and quarterings, 
 Mutilations and tortures, and such kind of slaughterings, 
 Just as much as an Anglican crowd in the present day, 
 Think attending the " Manning "finale a pleasant day ; 
 So extremely they bustled. 
 Pushed, jostled, and hustled, 
 Climb'd up lamp-posts (there were none !), on each 
 
 rising ground 
 Stood to view the procession, as slowly it wound 
 Its way to the cathedral, where, at the high altar 
 The condemn' d was "pro se" 
 To appear, or else be 
 Declared recusant, most contumacious, defaulter, 
 Et cetera, et cetera, in fact, all the "bosh" 
 That the law could devise, horrid stuff which won't wash. 
 And yet seems to last pretty well through all ages. 
 Keeps solicitors going, and provides their clerks wages. 
 
 85 
 
'Twas a splendid and beautiful pageant, that same ; 
 First a tody of archers and shield-bearers came ; 
 Then some dear little choristers, dressed all in white. 
 Who each carried a chandelle henie, or " child's light," 
 "Which being bless'd by the Pope, it appears to my thick 
 
 head, 
 Must, in spite of its wick, have no longer been wiclceA. ; 
 Next came Abbot Geraldus, profusely ornate 
 With mitre, and crozier, and garments of state ; 
 Then the Herald de Eodon, in great exultation, 
 Highly pleased with himself, and the whole "situa- 
 tion;" 
 
 Then a servitor, bearing 
 A big candle, flaring 
 Up like mad, and creating a vast cloud of vapour. 
 Or smoke (which affair was a "penitent taper"). 
 On a silver " Lavabo," a word which they say, 
 In middle-age Latin, means simply a tray ; 
 And after this penitent candle there came 
 Our penitent heroine, looking the same. 
 And feeling — however, I'll leave you to guess 
 How the poor thing would feel in so cruel a mess. 
 Then came something of which the description we'd 
 
 best give 
 Is, like Tennyson's rhymes, it was "sweetly sug- 
 gestive" — 
 86 
 
A large shield, in the centre whereof was depicted 
 A hand lately severed, — the artist, addicted 
 ('Twas De Eodon himself) to pre-Eaphaelite rules, 
 Had made the wrist "sanglant" with drops from it 
 "gules." 
 
 Then directly hehind this agreeahle aifair 
 
 Came the city "Jack Ketch " with his horrid axe hare ! 
 
 87 
 
GATHERED LEAVES. 
 
 Then more spearmen ; and then rusli'd the crowd out 
 
 of breath, 
 With their eagerness all to be in at the death. 
 
 Her eyes dim with despair, 
 
 All dishevell'd her hair. 
 And the fair " poefeit hand " with its rounded arm bare, 
 With brow madly throbbing, and footsteps that falter,' — 
 The wretched Tolenta is led to the altar ; 
 
 While De Eodon proclaims, 
 
 By his titles and names. 
 That the Lord Lettelhausen, Grand Seigneur, and Knight 
 Of some half-dozen orjiers, demands as his right 
 The forfeited hand of the culprit Tolenta. 
 Then Geraldus replies, "By the general consent, a 
 Demand thus in accordance with justice and law 
 Is granted. Let Lord Lettelhausen now draw 
 I^ear the altar, and take, by the Church's command, 
 As his right and possession, the poErEiTED hand ! " 
 
 A stalwart arm is round her thrown, 
 Fondly the forfeit hand is press'd ; 
 
 1^0 more forsaken and alone. 
 She sinks upon a manly breast. 
 
 
At length the evil days are past — 
 Her griefs, her trials, all are over, 
 
 Long -wept, long sought, regained at last, 
 'Tis Loridon, her own true lover. 
 
 Whose Papa having very obligingly done 
 The genteel thing, in dying exactly when one 
 Would have wish'd him, by that means enabled his son 
 To step into his shoes, just in time to diskjver a 
 Mode of enacting the gallant deliverer ; 
 
 As we've tried to rehearse 
 
 For your pleasure in verse, 
 If we've happen'd to fail, — and too clearly you know 
 
 it,— 
 Bear in mind that we never set up for a poet. 
 
=^ 
 
 GATHERED LEAVES. 
 
 THE BALLAD OF BOREANA. 
 
 Y brain is ■wearied with thy prate, 
 
 Boreana. 
 I sit and curse my hapless fate, 
 Boreana. 
 
 "What time the rain pours down the gutter, 
 Still your platitudes you utter, 
 
 Boreana. 
 I unholy wishes mutter, 
 
 Boreana. 
 
 Ere the night-light's flame was waning, 
 
 Boreana, 
 
 While the cats were serenading, 
 
 Boreana, 
 
 Sheep were bleating, oxen lowing, 
 
 "We heard the beasts to Smithfield going, 
 
 Boreana. 
 
 Tou said the butcher's bill was owing, 
 
 Boreana. 
 90 
 
 < 
 
At Cremome we two alone, 
 
 Boreana, 
 Ere my wisdom teeth were grown, 
 
 Boreana, 
 While the dancers gaily hopp'd. 
 And the hrass hand never stopp'd, 
 
 Boreana, 
 I to thee the question popp'd, 
 
 Boreana. 
 
 I 
 
 She stood heside the area gate, 
 
 Boreana. 
 She did it just to aggravate, 
 
 Boreana. 
 She saw me wink, she heard me swear. 
 She recognised the scoundi'el there, 
 
 Boreana. 
 She knows a hailiflf I can't bear, 
 
 Boreana. 
 
 The cursed writ, he push'd it through, 
 
 Boreana, 
 
 The area rails, and gave it you, 
 
 Boreana. 
 

 ■Sf 
 
 =?S^^=6 
 
 GATHERED LEAVES. 
 
 jur^ 
 
 The infernal summons me unnerved, 
 He from his duty never swerved, 
 
 Boreana. 
 On thee, my bride, the writ he served, 
 
 Boreana. 
 
 Oh ! narrow-minded county court, 
 
 Boreana ! 
 
 'Tis death to me, to them 'tis sport, 
 
 Boreana. 
 92 
 
 rM 
 
=WJ\2^ 
 
 % 
 
 ^ 
 
 GATHERED LEAVES. 
 
 Oh ! stab in my most tender place, 
 My pocket ! oli, the deep disgrace, 
 
 Boreana ! 
 I fell down flat upon my face, 
 
 Boreana. 
 
 They fined me at the court next day, 
 
 Boreana. 
 Lock'd up, how can I get away, 
 
 Boreana ? 
 I don't perceive of hope a ray. 
 'Tis a true bUl, but oh! I say, 
 
 Boreana, 
 Ho-w, without tin, am I to pay, 
 
 Boreana ? 
 
 When turns the never-pausing mill, 
 
 Boreana, 
 I tread, I do not dare stand still, 
 
 Boreana. 
 At home, of beer thou drink' st thy fill ; 
 I may not come to thee and swill, 
 
 Boreana. 
 I hear the rolling of the mill, 
 
 Boreana. 
 
TO MRS. G. H. VIRTUE. 
 
 HOU better half of Virtue, gentle friend, 
 
 Fairly to thee I, Fairlegh, greetiag send ; 
 
 Frankly I give what frankly you desire ; 
 
 Tou thus Frank Fairlegh's autograph acquire. 
 To make assurance doubly sure, this medley 
 Of Franks and Fairleghs thus I sign — 
 
> 
 
 GATHERED LEAVES. 
 
 VALENTINES. 
 
 P you loves I, as I loves you, 
 Witt an affection strong and true, 
 And always as I wish you do, 
 And promise not to grow up blue, 
 
 Or write " sweet things," or " Sonnets to . . 
 
 And never want a bonnet new 
 
 Until your pin-money is due ; 
 
 And snub each. " got up " puppy who 
 
 Dares to presume to flirt with you ; 
 
 And sew on buttons not a few, 
 
 As " Wedded Beauty " ought to do ; 
 
 I'd not mind playing Edwin to 
 
 Tour Angelina ! "WTiat say you ? 
 
^^^ 
 
 GATHERED LEAVES. 
 
 1 
 
 
 II. 
 
 AVE you caugM a Valentine ? 
 Prithee, fair one, say. 
 
 If not, will you, dear, be mine 
 On tliis blessed day ? 
 On this day when lads and lasses. 
 Of themselves make precious asses, 
 Writing sentimental verses 
 (Than which /think nothing worse is), 
 Eaving about hearts of tinder 
 (Calves' hearts roasted to a cinder), 
 Praising up that little stupid, 
 Fat, uutailor'd idiot, Cupid ; 
 Bowing, vowing, tearing, swearing. 
 Lots of horrid lies, declaring 
 All the love they do not feel 
 For the objects of their zeal. 
 Of the Poet MUton, I 
 Prize this observation, 
 " Sentiment is all my eye, 
 Bosh and botheration ! " 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 ^^ 
 
 1 
 
 
 E© 
 
 TO MY VALENTINE. 
 
 IS Valentine's mom, lore, ■wUcii sweet little 
 
 birds 
 Are by Cupid declared to devote to their 
 wooing, 
 Addresaiag their mates in soft twittering words. 
 And transacting a vast deal of billing and cooing. — 
 Now if I were a bird, dear, I know what I'd do, 
 I would rise with the lark, and fly straight to your 
 
 casement, 
 "Where in ornithological language I'd woo, 
 'Till you answer'd, "I will," and left off with "Amaze- 
 ment;"* 
 But not being a bird, my fond wishes alone 
 Can fly to your presence on wings of the wind, 
 And while coyly my amiable weakness they own. 
 Must hint everything pretty, everything kind. 
 
 That's the right style of business. Come, don't laugh. 
 For young birds, tho' not old ones, are taken with chaff, 
 
And I'd tave you to know, Miss, such chaff as I've 
 
 written, 
 Is sweet food, wherewith, sundry young birds have been 
 
 smitten ; 
 And if you've the bad taste my soft lines to despise, 
 I shall deem it a proof that you're more nice than wise! 
 Enclosed is a bracelet, but firmly I swear it. 
 That she who's my Valentiae only shall wear it ; 
 So, dear, decide, vnll you take it, or leave it ? 
 Ah, the bracelet is yours ! by that smile I perceive it. 
 
 1856. 
 
FOR M. S. 
 
 DO not ask thy love, 
 The tender joy, the deep emotion. 
 Of loving woman's fond devotion, 
 I do not seek to prove. 
 My path on earth is lonely, 
 And ever mnst he, only 
 Jh In memory of days gone hy, 
 
 W When thou didst smile, and weep, and I 
 
 ^M Grew, oh ! so happy, in each radiant smile ; 
 
 (j Or if the while, 
 
 A tear upon thy damask cheek lay sleeping. 
 Then for thy sake I fell in love with weeping ;- 
 In memory of those days of joy and sorrow, 
 
 Sad thoughts, and fancies airy. 
 Breathe tliy first sigh to-morrow, 
 For me, Mary ! 
 
 Saint Valentine's Jive, 1847. 
 
 s 
 
HEEE are 'briglit and happy hours 
 In tMs dwelling-place of tears, 
 Sunny gleams between the showers, 
 Merry birds and smiling flowers, 
 Hopes that conc[uer fears. ^ , 
 
 There are many sweets that mingle 
 In the cup of mortal sadness ; 
 Fairy beUs that softly tingle 
 By woodland way and forest dingle, 
 Moving hearts to gladness. 
 
 There are fairer, brighter things, 
 Star-like gem the path of life : 
 Sympathy that ever brings 
 Friendship on its dove-like wings ; 
 Faithful love tiU death that clings 
 Peace, the sleep of strife. 
 

 
 S^^ 
 
 GATHERED LEAVES. 
 
 Thus I mused one soft spring morn, 
 "WTiile her clear soprano ringing, 
 The nightingale was sweetly singing 
 From her seat in the old thorn ; 
 Then methought that at my side 
 Harshly thns a Toice replied — 
 
 " Dreamer, as yon name each blessing, 
 "With your gaze upon the sty 
 "Wrapp'd in a fool's fantasy, 
 Tell me which art thou possessing ? ' ' 
 
 \ 
 
 And at these strange words I wonder'd, 
 But the bird was singing stUl, 
 And an echo from the hill 
 Seemed to ask me why I ponder'd. 
 
 Then I answer'd musingly, 
 "Love, the urchin, ever roving 
 To and fro, stUl passes by, 
 Glancing with a roguish eye. 
 Leaving me unloved, unloving. 
 
 " Better so, for love," I said, 
 " Flashes like a meteor gleam ; 
 
GATHERED LEAVES. 
 
 And realities but seem 
 Harsher by the light it shed. 
 
 " I have many a loving friend ; 
 "With their pleasant voices near me, 
 And their sympathy to cheer me, 
 I win wear Ufe to its end. 
 
 " And when death has had his will 
 SpartUng eyes for me wiU weep. 
 Loyal hearts a comer keep, 
 For our friendship's memory stUl." 
 
'^.-i-Wr'- 
 
 GATHERED LEAVES. 
 
 EPITAPH. 
 
 ERE lies Belinda ! sad her early doom ! 
 Should perjured Cymon e'er approach her 
 tomb, 
 
 These simple lines her tragic fate impart — 
 " A check' d flirtation settled on her heart ! ' 
 
M 
 
 =^^^$fe 
 
 GATHERED LEAVES. 
 
 LINES FOE MUSIC, 
 
 READ not tlie dark to-morrow, 
 
 Never weep, 
 Waking is full of sorrow, 
 Prithee sleep ! 
 Sleep shall bright visions yield thee, 
 
 Angel forms 
 With their soft wings shall shield thee 
 
 From Life's storms : 
 With their calm eyes behold thee. 
 
 On thee smile, 
 In their fond arms enfold thee, 
 
 Eor a while. 
 Then, when thine eyes unclosing 
 
 Thou shalt wake, 
 Ev'n from that soft refreshing 
 
 Comfort take. 
 Nor in Hfe's darkest hour 
 
 Yainly sigh, 
 Prayer hath mighty power, 
 
 God is nigh ! 
 
1^ ND so to-morrow being your natal day, 
 By somebody you're owed an ode you say ; 
 I'd be that body with the greatest pleasure, 
 But I can't write an ode — why, even the 
 measure 
 " My spirit knows not : " then, another thing, 
 I lack the where-with-all to say or sing — 
 I can't find matter. Now were I your lover 
 A thousand tender nothings I'd discover — 
 A sonnet to your eyebrow — I don't doubt you 
 Have such a feature as that same about you ; 
 But for my life I don't believe upon it 
 I could compose that slow affair, a sonnet. 
 Let's try — "Hail, lovely eyebrow ! " — no. 
 That's what I classically term "no go." 
 Eyebrows won't pay ; none but a lover amorous 
 Could on so very mild a theme grow clamorous. 
 And woe betide your lover ; I've my doubts 
 That you're a little flirt, or thereabouts ; 
 One who for years has sacrificed, sans scruples, 
 "Whole generations of enamour'd pupils. 
 106 
 
 r*^^ 
 
 ^*^ 
 

 Were I their tutor thus I'd wisely preaeh 
 
 'Gainst woman's wiles a remedy to teach : 
 
 " Fond youths beware — her dangerous presence fly, 
 
 To sigh for Polly were bad policy ; 
 
 Whate'er your principles, Low Church or High, 
 
 Avoid that error, Mary-olatry." 
 
 i 
 
 And yet I know not, while I write a feeling 
 Akin to what they call compunction's stealing 
 Across me — men ere now have sought the noose 
 Of marriage with a much less fair excuse. 
 
 107 
 
 =^i3s 
 
 f 
 
 s 
 
aS; 
 
 ^^fc 
 
 GATHERED LEAVES. 
 
 Perliaps you're not a flirt, or if you are 
 There are worse things than flirting extant, far.. 
 The unconscious coquetry a pretty woman 
 Displays by nature only proves her human — 
 Just to be sweetly arch, and mUdly ^^piteful, 
 But makes her, entre nous, the more delightful. 
 In short, dear Mary, let's for once be friends. 
 And as my rudeness asks some slight amends 
 I'U wish you on your birthday wishes three 
 Health, happiness, and last not least shaU be 
 That summum bonum termed " un bon parti;" 
 But when you've got them, and enjoy them rarely 
 Don't quite forget your loving friend Frank Fairlegh. 
 
LINES WRITTEN TO MISS AUGUSTA 
 SHORT. 
 
 long for Stort, and yet to long in vain, 
 Is little short of bitter longiag pain ; 
 Too short a time I've known thee, or too long, 
 I'm too short-sighted to teU right from wrong; 
 
 Nor can I note old Father Time's variety, 
 Enchanted in such short and sweet society. 
 
GATHERED LEAVES. 
 
 But when each short angelic visit's o'er 
 The long and lazy hours progress no more. 
 Happy the man who gives thy father's daughter 
 A longer name (it cannot well be shorter) : 
 He need not envy the exalted station 
 Of Albert, husband to the British nation, 
 Around whose princely brow all honours cluster, 
 For though the Queen's August, yet you're Augusta ! 
 
THE LOVER'S REBUKE TO HIS HEART. 
 
 HT dost tiou start, 
 Thou foolish, flutt'ring heart ? 
 
 She is not near ; 
 Or if that she were here, 
 "Why need her gentle presence thus alarm thee ? 
 She -would not harm thee. 
 When through the woodland ways 
 
 My lady strays. 
 All timid things that fly 
 
 Man's company 
 Come forth to meet her ; 
 With songs the wild birds greet her. 
 Then, foolish, flutt'ring heart, it is my will 
 That thou lie still." 
 
=^^^^^= 
 
 GATHERED LEAVES. 
 
 
 THE HEART'S EEPLY. 
 
 ASTEE," the heart replied, 
 " When 'gainst thy side, 
 My prison-house, I strike with wild emotion 
 'Tis not with coward fear 
 I tremble here, 
 But an excess of anxious love's devotion. 
 Thou say'st the presence of thy peerless dame 
 Maketh all wild things tame ; 
 Then grant me liberty 
 To her to fly. 
 Dear master, we must part. 
 For thou hast lost thy heart ; 
 Tet grieve not, nor with sorrow hang thy head, 
 For if I once may rest 
 Upon her breast, 
 I'll gain for thee her loving heart instead.' 
 
GATHERED LEAVES, 
 
 THE PEATER OF THE WEAEY HEART. 
 
 > 
 
 \ 
 
 H give me rest ! the toil of life, 
 Tte petty cares, tte petty strife, 
 Tte hourly crosses that apart 
 From deeper griefs consume my heart, 
 And leave a desolation there 
 Akin to, if 'tis not, despair. 
 
 These call for rest. 
 
 Oh give me rest ! for youth is gone, 
 And middle-age comes darkly on, 
 Experience has heen hardly bought. 
 Amhition palls, and Fame is nought ; 
 With chary measure Faith is given. 
 And Hope is dead, and Love's in heaven. 
 
 I pant for rest. 
 
 Oh give me rest ! the curse for sin 
 "Was life-long toil ; hut death came in 
 A hlessing in disguise to free 
 God's felons from their misery ; 
 
 I 113 
 
 m 
 
GATHERED LEAVES 
 
 The prison-term of life being o'er, 
 The weary heart will ache no more, 
 
 Por death is rest. 
 
 1, 
 
 Yes, death is rest ; beyond the grave 
 Dim forms their mystic pinions wave ; 
 Eepentance yet may pardon move. 
 For angels lell, and God is love. 
 We know in part, in part we see, 
 " Ye heavy-laden come to Me 
 
 And I will give you rest." 
 
^^ 0"WAED heart, no more repining, 
 ISli^ Cease to weep. 
 
 Greatness dwelletli in resigning. 
 Steadfast keep. 
 Heed riot though the years pass hy thee ; 
 Each bright thing that they deny thee 
 Might have proved a curse to try thee, 
 
 Dark and deep. 
 
 :■' 
 
 %i2: 
 
 ■j--^iKA-~i 
 
 "Woman's love in youth's bright morning, 
 
 Silly heart ; 
 "Woman's Jove may change to scorning, 
 
 May depart. 
 Couldst thou gain affection's treasure, 
 'Tis a fond and fleeting pleasure, 
 Cruel death hath ta'en its measure, 
 
 "With his dart. 
 
i 
 
 GATHERED LEAVES, 
 
 jS'oble heart, be true, be earnest 
 
 "Watch and wait. 
 Good for evil thou returnest. 
 
 That is great ! 
 Brave heart, all true honour lies 
 In a life-long sacrifice. 
 Stars shine clear above the skies, 
 
 Conquer fate ! 
 
 Dost thou pant for man's approving ? 
 
 'Tis the sand; 
 With each idle zephyr moving 
 
 O'er life's strand. 
 Write thy name ! let crowds adorn it ! 
 Ere the waves of time pass o'er it, 
 Some new idol shall before it 
 
 Proudly stand. 
 
 1851. 
 
 ^ 
 
A SONG. 
 
 EAET, weary life, 
 Wilt thou never cease ? 
 
 Acliing, acUng heai't, 
 Canst thou ne'er find peace ? 
 Ever dost thou leave me 
 False hope and unkind ? 
 
 StiU. wilt thou deceive me 
 Cruel faith and blind? 
 
 Sunshine of my spirit, 
 Thou too soon hast fled — 
 
 "Wearily I wander. 
 Youth and love are dead ; 
 
 Life unloved, unloving. 
 Darker than the grave, 
 
 Death from grief removing. 
 Death alone can save. 
 
 =^^ 
 
Sleep, thy drowsy pinions 
 O'er my eyelids move, 
 
 Still my throbbing pulses, 
 Let me dream of love ; 
 
 Give me hack the seeming 
 Of the hopes that were ; 
 
 Thus perchance may dreaming 
 Calm awhile despair. 
 
OVED best ! " As one with parch' d and 
 burning lips, 
 That part to rave in fever's wild nnrest, 
 
 Quaffs the cool cup, and eager sips and sips, 
 
 So eager drink some cars the words, " Loved best." 
 
> 
 
 Efey^W/i- 
 
 QATHERED LEAVES. 
 
 As sighs the captive in bis dungeon pent, 
 On the stone couch his 'vreary limbs have prest, 
 Till Ufe, and hope, and energy are spent, 
 So sigh some aching hearts the words, " Loved best." 
 
 As breathes the south wind o'er some happy vale, 
 Kissing the wild flowers to iheir dreamless rest, 
 And ling'ring o'er their beauties sweet and frail, 
 So breathe some favour'd lips the words, " Loved best.'' 
 
 Loved best, this earth is heaven, unloved 'tis hell ! 
 Death finds a refuge, and the grave gives rest : 
 Pray for that soul when sounds its passing knc41, 
 Has pined a lifetime lor the words, "Loved best." 
 
HT we meet, why part again, 
 God alone can tell, 
 All the pleasure, all the pain. 
 In His counsels dwell. 
 
 m 
 
 II. 
 
 Friend, this life is drear and lone, 
 And we wander to and fro. 
 As the swallows come and go, 
 Seeking rest, and finding none. 
 
 Priend, this life is very strange, 
 Whence we came, or where we go, 
 "We may guess, hut cannot know, 
 All seems chance and change. 
 
TO L. K. Y. 
 
 (with a PRESCEIPIION'.) 
 
 PASS'D by night through the deserted streets ; 
 Calm stars gazed down from out the tranquil sky ; 
 Pensive policemen linger'd on their beats, 
 With aspect of serene authority ; 
 
 The busy hum of men no longer greets 
 The listening ear ; for all in slumber lie. 
 Then, as the moonbeams eool'd my throbbing brow, 
 I thought of thee, and of my plighted tow. 
 122 
 
 ^I^^^K 
 
rA-ii. 
 
 GATHERED LEAVES 
 
 There are wto basely promise, and forget, 
 Or, perjured, to the ear their promise keep, 
 But lie to the intent — a shallow set 
 The first, the last, unprincipled but deep. 
 Thy friend was not of these ; he would not let 
 Falsehood profane bis lips ; so ere asleep 
 He fell, he tied his handkerchief in what 
 Witlings might term a don't-forget-me knot. 
 
 He roused at daybreak — that is, he turn'd out 
 Just before nine o'clock ; and like the rose. 
 Sprinkled with heavy wet (I don't mean stout), 
 He sought to blow, but could not ; for his nose 
 Met with a Gordian knot, entwined about 
 In many a tortuous fold. I don't propose 
 To tell you what he said, but, if he spoke 
 A naughty word, it must have been in joke. 
 
 Eeminded of his promise, then he sent 
 For a prescription by one Dr. Stone, 
 Wherein are hieroglyphics which are meant 
 To tell us that in all mild cases one. 
 In more severe ones two pills, must be spent 
 Upon the patient ; when six hours have flown. 
 To be repeated ; and he hopes, sans scoffing. 
 Alike they'll save yon from your cough and coffin ! 
 
 123 
 
a^ 
 
 GATHERED LEAVES. 
 
 A SERENADE. 
 
 EEATHE cool on my forehead, soft breeze 
 of tie night, 
 My brow that is throbbing. 
 
 My brow that is burning, 
 My cheeks fever flushing, my lips quivering white ; 
 124 
 
■i 
 
 GATHERED LEAVES. 
 
 Creep close to my bosom, and nestle thee there. 
 
 My heart, wildly beating, will give thee glad greeting, 
 
 To still its despair ; 
 Will give thee glad greeting, and welcome thy meeting, 
 
 Bright spirit of air. 
 Although on thy pinions cold death thou shouldst bear. 
 
 I love, and she loves not ; she dreams while I weep. 
 
 My eyes, never closing. 
 
 Obtain no reposing, 
 But under her window their .sad vigil keep. 
 I love, and she loves not ; the tale is so old, 
 The tale is so dreary, the ages are weary 
 
 Of hearing it told ; 
 And yet repetition, with doleful addition. 
 
 Shows others enroll' d 
 In this army of martyrs to proud hearts and cold. 
 
W" 
 
 ^ 
 
 i 
 
 ^fi^^^ 
 
 (FATHERED LEAVES 
 
 A REMONSTRANCE. 
 
 HY dost thou bless me, dear one, 
 
 "With thy love so bright and warm ? 
 Per I am a dark and a lonely thing, 
 A wUd bird drooping with broken wing, 
 
 An oak by lightning shiver'd and scathed. 
 A beetling rock by the wild waves laved. 
 
 5^^^ 
 
Cold and stern and lonely ; 
 Pierced by the arrow, rent by the storm. 
 Wby sbouldst tbou glad me only 
 "With, thy love so tender and warm ? 
 
 Why should thy smiles, sweet sunshine, 
 E,est on my saddened brow ? 
 The wounded eagle pines alone ; 
 Flowers blossom not on the cold grey stone ; 
 And the ivy that clings to the shattered oak 
 Clings but to fall 'neath the woodman's stroke. 
 
 Weary thought and carking care. 
 Deep have they traced their furrows e'en now. 
 "Why should thy smiles, sweet sunshine, 
 Eest on my throbbing brow ? 
 
GATHERED LEAVES. 
 
 "ALONE." 
 
 TILL o'er the trackless sea of life 
 My bark toils wearily alone ; 
 Alone I stem the wild waves' strife, 
 And hear the sad wind's plaintive moan. 
 
 Par from each shore of calm content, 
 From sunny islands of delight, 
 Alone my cheerless course is bent, 
 'So sun by day, no star by night. 
 
 Alone I watch the drifting cloud, 
 And list the sea-bird's boding cry ; 
 Alone, like ghost in circling shroud, 
 I view the pale foam gliding by. 
 
 Alone, dark thoughts assail my breast 
 "Wild wishes, sad regrets, which tear 
 The heartstrings with a fierce unrest 
 That mocks the calmness of despair. 
 
 128 
 
 f 
 
 II 
 
GATHERED LEAVES. 
 
 Eegrets ! alas, regrets are vain ; 
 Tumultuous longings all pass by ; 
 If wisli be left me, 'tis again 
 To rest on one loved heart — and die. 
 
 m 
 
 I 
 
 129 
 
 r^^ 
 
 "B^V= 
 
'^ 
 
 :i 
 
 LILY FLOWER. 
 
 RUSTING hearts are oft betray'd, 
 Shady bower, treach'rous bower, 
 Fickle youth and silly maid, 
 
 Heedless Lily riowcr. 
 
 He was comely and tall to view. 
 Keen of eye, but of heart untrue ; 
 That, alas ! she little knew, 
 
 Simple Lily Flower. 
 
 Eglantine and heartsease grew 
 
 Eound the shady bower. 
 Spring was young, and he seem'd true, 
 Happy Lily Flower. 
 
 Summer blossoms soon have past ; 
 Bending 'neath the autumn blast. 
 Dost thou guess the truth at last, 
 
 Drooping Lily Flower ? 
 
d -x. t\ 
 
 f 
 
 ^ 
 
 GATHEKED LEAVES. 
 
 Hangs the cold, relentless snow 
 
 On the leafless bower. 
 Man's false love brings woman's woe, 
 
 Fading Lily Flower. 
 
 ^ 
 
 K'o loving hand was there to save, 
 Heav'n has ta'en the life it gave. 
 Lay her in her early grave, 
 
 "Weep for Lily Flower. 
 
i^:f^ 
 
 SAINT PERE. 
 
 LOYE thee not, and yet relief 
 Gladdens my soul, when thou art near. 
 And all dear things seem still more dear, 
 And sorrow loses half its grief. 
 
 I do not love thee, yet 'tis sweet 
 To tell thee all my inner life. 
 And how I strive or fail in strife, 
 And sit disciple at thy feet. 
 
 Thou art so strong where I am weak ; 
 And when perchance my narrower mind 
 Meets cruel deed with word unkiad, 
 Thou teachest gentler phrase to speak. 
 
 I do not love thee, yet thy smile 
 
 Sheds such sweet sunshine o'er my heart-, 
 
 I can but sit and weep apart, 
 
 "When shadows cloud thy brow awhile. 
 
GATHERED LEAVES. 
 
 I love thee not with human love, 
 When passion with its fierce unrest 
 Gladdens or rends the throbbing breast, 
 And weary earth seems heaven above. 
 
 As dying saint, we part adore 
 Part mourn, and still would gladly give 
 A thousand lives to bid him live. 
 So love I thee, nor less nor more. 
 
 January, 1862. 
 
A CHARACTER. 
 
 EEY good eyes which, are train'd to express 
 Things inexpressible, what I can't guess ; 
 Mouth rather wide, but a rare one for 
 chattering^ 
 Smart observations and compliments flattering ; 
 
 Hair black by candle-light, seen ia the day, 
 Untre nous, it is slightly "chenhiUed" with grey. 
 in4 
 
Somethmg red for a headdress the dark locks enclosing, 
 Quite original, neat, picturesque, and imposing. 
 Gown, the simple white muslin of sweet seventeen. 
 Most outrageously bustled with stijQf crinoline. 
 Short sleeves and long body, made, dear me. Oh fye ! 
 Most excessively low where it ought to be high. 
 Impertinent shoulders, by way of variety, 
 Protruded, denuded, defying propriety, 
 As a last forlorn hope of some marrying " spec " 
 She now strives, like a race-horse, to win ly a neoh. 
 Then she sings tragic songs up to concert pitch taught, 
 "With expression all borrow'd, and feeling all bought. 
 She sighs forth the woes of some desolate maid 
 With a heart smash'd to bits, and affections betray' d, 
 And she flirts most tremendously fast when she can, 
 "Which is every time she addresses a man. 
 " Is that you, Mr. D ? Lor ! I am so surprised ! 
 "Where's my poor little rosebud you told me you 
 
 prized? 
 Lost ! I'll never forgive you, you promised to save it. 
 Is that a forget-me-not ? Yes, you may have it. 
 Don't lose that ! Must you go ? "Well, I hope I shall 
 
 see 
 You to-morrow. Ah! How do you do, Mr. B." 
 Thus reversing the proverb, she thinks it's the thing 
 To possess, flirting double, two beaux to her string. 
 
She's a capital memory, talks of the stage 
 
 In the year '28, -when Sontag was the rage, 
 
 Which unwise retrospection quite makes one think 
 
 (ought I 
 To conceal the idea ?) that she's not far from forty. 
 
GATHERED LEAVES. 
 
 fair 
 
 HOPE ON, HOPE EVEE ! 
 
 HERE are who deem it best, 
 To make of love a jest, 
 A pleasant sport on Valentine's 
 
 morning ; 
 But to such triflers I 
 Would gravely thus reply, 
 Take heed lest careless loving caU. forth scorning. 
 
 Then to my lady fair 
 
 WUl I my love declare, 
 Ever in warmest and in briefest measure ; 
 
 As men the casket mould, 
 
 Of brightest, purest gold, 
 "Which shall contain their rarest, costliest treasure. 
 
 Dear one, if you and I, 
 
 Loving, could live and die, 
 This darksome earth would be as fair as heaven ; 
 
 But lonely tears and woe 
 
 Are our sad lot below, 
 Until repented sins shall be fwgiven. 
 
 1.37 
 
 W^ 
 
GATHERED LEAVES. 
 
 Over each beauteous thing 
 
 Yet the dark shadows cling, 
 Shades that descend from sinning and from sorrow ; 
 
 Eut when the night is past, 
 
 Dawn shall appear at last, 
 Bright with the glory of the long to-morrow. 
 
ODE. 
 
 EEMINGr the rhymer's ai-t was mine, 
 Thou hadst me write a valentine, 
 And gavest me as fair a theme 
 As e'er inspired poet's dream ; 
 Saying, my guerdon rare should be 
 A bright and sunny smUe from thee ; 
 And I that dear reward to win 
 ^Vould fain at once the task begin. 
 
 Despite the raven voice of fate, 
 
 Which teUs of twelve long months to wait, 
 
 E'er time again on circling wing. 
 
 Saint Valentine's fair mom shall bring — 
 
 Astute Minerva ! goddess high ! 
 
 Deign to assist thy votary ; 
 
 Come to my aid, and bring with thee 
 
 Thine handmaid, ingenuity ; 
 
 And help me with some cunning wile 
 
 To cheat old Time, and win "the smUe." 
 
 Thanks, for the bright idea, 
 
 'Tis said her natal day draws near. 
 
 139 
 
 i 
 
 f 
 
Might not a birthday ode obtain 
 The recompense I pant to gain ? 
 'Tis a fair scheme, and boldly I 
 Eesolve at once the chance to try ; 
 For still the proverb true we trace, 
 "Faint heart ne'er won fair lady's grace." 
 "Wait a bit, not so fast, 'tis a horrible plague ; 
 But I'm free to confess 
 "What perhaps you won't guess, 
 (For in one who writes verses 
 No ignorance worse is), 
 ily ideas of an ode are excessively vague : 
 'Tis true I've read loads 
 Of Horace's odes. 
 There's the first, which no doubt at the time had a 
 
 great run, 
 In which he " soft sawders " Maecenas his patron, 
 And tells him he springs 
 From a race of old kings. 
 Then there's " Olim jam satis," 
 "Which nought very great is ; 
 And' another to Lydia, 
 "Where he calls her " oandidior 
 Nives," which epithet doubtless you know 
 Eefers to her skin, and means "whiter than 
 
 snow." 
 140 
 
^1 
 
 But these odes are all Latin, and Latin won't do 
 To send to a lady, unless " she's a blue ; " 
 Which, thank goodness, you're not, for there's nothing 
 
 more shocking 
 Than that pedant in petticoats term'd a blue stocking. 
 One who stuffs down your throat without any apology 
 A succession of horrors all ending in " ology." 
 Or, by way of variety, 
 Favours society. 
 "With her private opinion respecting broad gauges. 
 The potato disease, or the low rate of wages : 
 No, depend on it, blue 
 Is a hose that won't do. 
 The best test that young ladies can choose for their 
 
 hose, 
 And their minds, and their ribbons, is " couleur de 
 rose," 
 But stay, I'm forgetting my ode all this time, 
 It behoves me to alter the style of my rhyme. 
 And rejecting the comic, attempt the sublime. 
 
 Hail to the happy hour that gave thee birth ! 
 
 When first on earth 
 Those beaming eyes so eloquently bright 
 
 Beheld the Ught! 
 
 ^^^=^^^= 
 
GATHERED LEAVES 
 
 Gaily spring flowers blossoin'd on that day, 
 Young gladsome birds the budding sprays among 
 
 Burst forth in festal song, 
 
 And deemed it May. 
 Hail to the day that marks thy Tvomanhood ! 
 
 All wishes good 
 Attend thee, and preserve thee as thou art, 
 
 True of heart ; 
 And innocent and happy, for thy years 
 Have yet been few ; and still perchance to thee 
 
 Seems it, earth cannot be 
 
 A vale of tears. 
 Long may it be, e'er sorrow's ebon wing 
 
 It's shadows fling 
 O'er that fair face, or quench that sunny smile 
 
 In tears the while. 
 But if some tears must fall, may it be given, 
 When still the troubled spirit finds relief 
 
 For every grief 
 
 From Heaven ! 
 
 There, I'm sure that's enough 
 Of such serious stuff, 
 I can't write any more, 
 'Tis no end of a bore. 
 
 ^^^^^= 
 
^ 
 
 I suppose that's an ode, if it's not I can't tell 
 What it is ; but no douht it will do just as well. 
 Thus, I think, I may reckon my labours are done, 
 And lay claim to " the smile " as a prize fairly won. 
 So, fair lady, you'd better get ready for granting one, 
 And, Carina, take care it's a very enchanting one ! 
 But should you prove false, or refuse to bestow it. 
 You may (mark my words, for I wish you to know it), 
 Find some other to flirt with, and get a new poet ! 
 
OATHERED LBA.VES 
 
 LEBE WOHL ! 
 
 EBE wohl, ach! lebe woU ! 
 
 Words of grief too often spoken : 
 
 Dear sister of my inmost soul, 
 
 "With, tearful eyes and hearts half broken ! 
 Yet 'twas not thus we parted, no ! 
 One pressure of the heart, one sigh, 
 One glance from half averted eye. 
 Was all the sign that spoke our woe. 
 Yet ever as some parting knell 
 Eings on mine ear that word farewell. 
 
 Lebe wohl, ach ! lebe wohl ! 
 Weary leagues of distance sever, 
 Angry waves between us roll. 
 Parting now may prove for ever. 
 But should it be so, still to me. 
 When half my soul is from me reft. 
 One source of happiness is left, 
 Of bygone hours the memory — 
 Even farewell no gloom can cast 
 O'er bright reflections of the past. 
 
^ 
 
 Lebe -wdhl, acli ! lebe wolil ! 
 Say, dost thou ever think upon 
 The happy moments that we stole 
 (Too brief, perchance for ever gone), 
 "When midst the gay and careless throng, 
 Apart we spake of holy things. 
 High thoughts and bright imaginings, 
 Flowers strewn the path of life along. 
 Farewell was then no word of sorrow, 
 "We parted, but to meet to-morrow. 
 
 Lebe wohl, ach ! lebe wohl ! 
 
 For months, for years, or till at last 
 
 For us the funeral bell may toll. 
 
 To say another soul has pass'd. 
 
 Then if our faith be not in vain, 
 
 Nor vain th' inspiring hope that Heaven 
 
 To prayer and penitence is given, 
 
 My sister, we may meet again 
 
 "Where love eternal rests alone. 
 
 And farewell is a word unknown 
 
 ^i 
 
 f^ 
 }{ 
 
^•l'-. 
 
 '*§— 
 
 GATHEKED LEAVES 
 
 IN VAIN ? 
 
 f 
 f 
 
 HAVE lived and loved in vain ! " 
 True, as far as this life goes. — 
 Have I lived and loved in vain ? 
 GrOD, who knows the future, knows. 
 
 Is there then a life to come ? 
 Shall again the " dry bones " live ? 
 One alone can call us home, 
 God the giver, let Him give. 
 
LINES WRITTEN FOR THE BAZAAR 
 
 Mnto iciw im m^ |ntostnal Stfjwls. 
 
 TNG a song of sixpence, a pocket full of 
 
 rye!" 
 We quote a nursery lyric, and we're going 
 to tell you vHy. 
 We are about to sing a song, and sing for money, too ; 
 But " rye " mil not our pockets fill, nor yet will 
 
 " sixpence do." 
 "We want good Queen Victoria's tead, with its bright 
 
 golden hair, 
 Emboss'd upon a golden coin, as fits a gem so rare : 
 Nor can the brain of wit or sage a better change suggest, 
 Tor Sovereign such as England boasts, than that which 
 
 we request. 
 In letters six we'll briefly state what may our object be — 
 To teach poor children A B C, we want your £ s. d. 
 Small brats who through the streets run wild, and lisp 
 
 the tongue vehicular, 
 Term'd slang, we'll send to infant schools to shout out 
 "Perpendicular," 
 
 1 
 
 €,. 
 
GATHERED LEAVES. 
 
 As they point their little fingers to the rafters overhead, 
 
 And to murmur "Horizontal" when they lie them 
 down in bed. 
 
 Then older hoys shall know the joys of adding and 
 subtracting, 
 
 And " rule of three " less puzzling be when business 
 is transacting. 
 
 Or if we get our "Buttons" through a course of 
 " wlgax fractions,'" 
 
 Our crockery may sufier less from his untaught exac- 
 tions. 
 
 Then at our hands the softer sex shall due attention 
 claim, 
 
 Each little child shall curtsey if we only breathe her 
 name; 
 
 The elder girls being taught to wash and iron, bake and 
 boil, 
 
 Stiff starch we'll wear, and praise hard fare, first pro- 
 ducts of their toil. 
 
 To sew her " Edwin's " buttons on we'll teach each 
 "Angelina," 
 
 And rustic swains will thus be kept much better fed 
 and cleaner. 
 
 Therefore, good friends, the more you give to help our 
 good intentions. 
 
 The better we can carry out our notable inventions ; 
 148 
 
ffi! 
 
 But even if with, all your aid we cau't reform society, 
 We should on tlie old crab-stock, man, engraft a new 
 
 variety. 
 If we should teach some simple child the narrow path 
 
 to tread, 
 
 Boldly to brave the fight of Hfe, and rest its weary head 
 Where true rest only can be found, you not in vain 
 
 have given 
 Tour gold or silver mite towards the treasury of Heaven. 
 
 Feank FAIBLEaS. 
 
 THE EKB. 
 
i^ 
 
 LONDOS : 
 
 FEINTED BY JAMES S, VIRTUE, 
 
 cirv rOAD. 
 
 I 
 
 i^^r— " 3^'^^ 
 
 ^^^ 
 
BY FRANK E. SMEDLEY 
 
 Post 8to., 2s. 6d. boards, or 3s. 6d. in cloth, gilt back, 
 
 FRAITK FAIKLEGH; 
 Oe, scenes feom the, life op a peivate pupil. 
 
 *#* A Library Edition, with 30 Illustrations by George Cruikshank, 
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