a-, -p -^ .0 o. '^- .#■ .%^^^ •N , -J. ■> '-':>. ,c\^ X- \^ ^•> u 5^ -\v %^ .vx- v\ . >^ ,^ ^^ ^;^^^ O^ ^. <^ ,0o o'^' o- * A> ./ v^' -A^ ,0o. • o'^ ^s-^ ^i^ v^^ '-^ ,#■■ \. ,^^'' . . A- A^'.'^:!^' ^\ %^ -> 4"' ^' ■' /%■ ■j ;;V'- . ^ - -i^' #^ x^ ^ -^^ «^ "- ^,*- % ^,%<^^ .aV-. >-.. _. _ ,- „ #r ^^5^ ^^ \f . A^ ~- - Or i#< ,^ > ^.r. : A^ V '.-' ^^L. <^ ■^ .v^^y^^^^^ -^^ ^X ^°^- ,^:^ -:>, OO, 0^ .V '' ■" >.. ^ . ..>>-^ r 4 o^, -^-j , .'-cT* m "k"^^ m / -^ THE HUMOROUS POETRY OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE, FROM CHAUCER TO SAKE. NARRATIVES, SATIRES, ENIGMAS, BURLESQUES, PARODIES, TRAVESTIES, EPIGRAMS, EPITAPHS, TRANSLATIONS, INCLUDING THE MOST CELEBRATED COMIC POEMS OF THE ANTI-JACOBIN, REJECTED ADDRESSES, THE INGOLDSBY LEGENDS, BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZINE, BENTLEY'S MISCELLANY, AND PUNCH. WITH MORE THAN TWO HUNDRED EPIGRAMS, AND THE CHOICEST HUMOROUS POETRY WOLCOTT, COWPER, lamb, THACKERAY, PRAED, SWIFT, SCOTT, HOLMES, AYTOUN, GAY, BURNS, SOUTHEY, SAXE, HOOD, PRIOR, COLERIDGE, BYRON, MOORE, LOWELL, ETC. .^fA.'fORY AND BIOGRAPHICAL, RECEIVED. •'^^ \ /J ^\ _'':rr!=5^__ < r C/X/ l/# / "THIRTEENTH EDMION.!; ^"l/J r^ j / '^ /-Ps^ - - -^-"^ BOSTON : ^^^3.^L■^^^^ HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY;"'^"^"^'^"' 1881. € I, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1856, by MA.SON BROTHERS, tke Clerk's Office of the District Court for the Southern District d New York. Py T-anaf«r MAR 15 1917 LI 8 Ft A UY. PREFACE. The design of the projector of this volume was, that it should contain the Best of the shorter humorous poems in the Hteratures of England and the United States, except : Poems so local or cotemporary in subject or allusion, as not to be readily understood by the modern American reader ; Poems which, from the freedom of expression allowed in the healthy ages, can not now be read aloud in a company of men and women ; Poems that have become perfectly familiar to every body, from their incessant reproduction in school-books and newspapers ; and Poems by hving American authors, who have collected their mimorous pieces from the periodicals in which most of them originally appeared, and given them to the world in their own names. Holmes, Saxe, and Lowell are, therefore, only represented in this collection. To have done more than fairly represent them, had been to infringe rights which are doubly sacred, because they are not protected by law. To have done less would have deprived the reader of a most convenient means of observing that, in a kind of composition confessed to be among the most difficult, our native wits are not excelled by foreign. The editor expected to be embarrassed with a profusion of material for his purpose. But, on a survey of the poetical Htera- ture of the two countries, it was discovered that, of reaUy excel- lent humorous poetry, of the kinds universally interesting, un- IT PREFACE. tainted by obscenity, not marred by coarsenej-^ of language, noi obscured by remote allusion, the quantity in existence is not great. It is thought that this volume contains a very large pro- portion of the best pieces that have appeared. An unexpected feature of the book is, that there is not a line in it by a female hand. The alleged foibles of the Fair have given occasion to libraries of comic verse; yet, with diligent search, no humorous poems by women have been found which are of merit sufficient to give them claim to a place in a collec- tion like this. That Uvely wit and graceful gayety, that quick perception of the absurd, which ladies are continually displaying in their conversation an 1 correspondence, never, it seems, sug- gest the successful epigram, or inspire happy satirical verse. The reader will not be annoyed by an impertinent superfluity of notes. At the end of the volume may be found a list of the sources from which its contents have been taken. For the conve- nience of those who hve remote from biographical dictionaries, a few dates and other particulars have been added to the mention of each name. For valuable contributions to this portion of the volume, and for much well-directed work upon other parts of it, the reader is indebted to Mr. T. Butler Gunn, of this city. There is, certainly, nothing more dehghtfiil than the fim of a man of genius. Humor, as Mr. Thackeray observes, is charming, and poetry is charming, but the blending of the two in the same 'composition is nresistible. There is much nonsense in this book, and some folly, and a little Ul-nature ; but there is more wisdom than either. They who possess it may congratJilate themselves npon having the largest collec^'on <»vef made of *he sportive eflEu- vons •>f preniur- Received WAR DEPARTMENT LIBRARY. I-N D E X. MISCELLANEOUS. To my Empty Purse G'liaucer .... 21 To Chloe Peter Pindar . . 21 To a Fly " ... 22 Man may be Happy " ... 24 Address to the Toothache Burns 25 The Pig Southey .... 26 Snuff " 28 Farewell to Tobacco Lamb 29 Written after swimming from Sestos to Aby- dos Byron 33 The Lisbon Packet " 34 To Fanny Moore 36 Young Jessie " 3t Rings and Seals " 38 Nets and Cages " 39 Salad Sydney Smith . . 40 My Letters Barham .... 41 The Poplar " 44 Spring Hood 45 Ode on a Distant Prospect of Clapham Acad- emy " 46 Schools and School-fellows Praed 50 TheYicar " 52 The Bachelor's Cane-bottomed Chair . . . Thackeray .... 54 Stanzas to Pale Ale Punch 56 Children must be paid for " 57 The Musquito Bryant 58 To the Lady in the Chemisette with Black Buttons Willis 60 Come out, Love " 62 The White Chip Hat " 63 Tou know if it was you " ..... 64 The Declaration ... ** 64 INDEX. SUBJECT. A.XJTHOB. Love in a Cottage WiUis. . . To Helen in a Huff "... The Height of the Ridiculous O.W.Holmes The Briefless Barrister J. G. Saxe . Sonnet to a Clam " Venus of the Needle AUingham . PAOH , 65 , 66 6*7 , 68 . 69 10 NARRATIVE. Take thy Old Cloak about thee Percy Reliques King John and the Abbot " The Baffled Knight, or Lady's Policy ... " Truth and Falsehood Prix)r . . . Flattery Williams (Sir C. The Pig and Magpie Feter Pindar Advice to Young Women " Economy " The Country Lasses " The Pilgrims and Peas " On the Death of a Favorite Cat Gray . The Retired Cat Cowper Saying, not Meaning Wake . Juha Goleridgt A Cock and Hen Story Southey The Search after Happiness Scott (Sir W.) The Donkey and his Panniers Moore . Misadventure at Margate Barham The Ghost A Lay of St. Grcngulphus Sir Rupert the Fearless Look at the Clock The Bagman's Dog Dame Fredegonde W. Ayiour, The King of Brentford's Testament . . . Thackeray Titmarsh's Carmen LUhenses " . . Shadows ....*. Lantern . The Retort G. P. Morris . 16 . 11 . 80 . 85 K) 81 . 89 . 90 . 91 . 93 . 95 . 91 . 99 . 102 . 104 . 105 . 115 . 124 . 125 . 129 . 136 . 146 . 156 . 164 . 181 . 184 . 191 . 194 . 196 SATIRICAL. The Rabble, or Who Pays ? S. BuUer . The Chameleon Prior , , The Merry Andrew. " . , Jack and Joan "., 199 200 201 202 INDEX. Vll BTJBJKCr. The Progress of Poetry Twelve Articles The Beapt's Confession. A New Simile for the Ladies On a Lap-dog The Razor Seller. The Sailor Boy at Prayers . . ... Bienseance Kings and Courtiers Praying for Rain Apclogy for Kings Ode to the Devil The King of Spain and the Horse .... The Tender Husband The Soldier and the Virgin Mary .... A King of France and the Fair Lady. . . The Eggs The Ass and his Master The Love of the World Reproved, or Hypoc- risy Detected Report of an Adjudged Case Holy Willie's Prayer Epitaph on Holy WiUie Address to the Deil The Devil's Walk on Earth Church and State Ikying The Millenmum The Little Grand Lama Eternal London On Factotum Ned Letters (Fudge Correspondence), First Letter " " Second " «< " Third " The Literary Lady Netley Abbey Family Poetry . The Sunday Question Ode to Rae Wilson, Esquire Death's Ramble The Bachelor's Dream On Samuel Rogers My Partner . . , The Belle of the Ball 1* AnTHOS. Swift . . Sheridan (Dr. T.) Gay . . Feter Pindar Triarte (( Cowper u Bums Souihey Moore Sheridan Bajrham (( Hood Byron Praed {R. B) INDEX. SITBJBOT. ADTHOB. Sorrows of Werther Thackeray The Yankee Volunteer " Courtship and Matrimony " Conoerniug Sisters-in-law Punch The Lobsterss " To Song Birds on a Sunday , " The First Sensible Valentine, ..... " A Scene on the Austrian Frontier .... " Ode to the Great Sea Serpent " The Feast of Vegetables and the Flow of "Wa- ter " Kindred Quacks " The Kailway Traveler's Farewell to his Fam- ily. A Letter and an Answer " Papa to his Heir " Selling off at the Opera-house " Wonders of the Victorian Age " To the Portrait of a Gentleman Holmes My Aunt " Comic Miseries Saxe . Idees Napoleoniennes Aytoun The Lay of the Lover's Friend " PAOB 31 S 319 321 322 324 324 325 327 328 , 330 331 333 334 336 338 339 340 342 343 345 347 PARODIES AND BURLESQUES Wine Gay 350 Ode on Science Swift 358 A Love Song " 359 Baucis and Philemon " 360 A Description of a City Shower *' 365 The Progress of Curiosity Pindar . . . .367 The Author and the Statesman Fielding . . . .382 The Friend of Humanity and the Kmfe-Grind- er Anti-Jacobin . . 384 Inscription " . . 386 Song Canning .... 387 The Amatory Sonnets of Abel Shufiflebottom Southey 1. Delia at Play 388 2. The Poet proves the existence of a Soul from his Love for DeHa 389 3. The Poet expresses his feelings respect- ing a Portrait in Delia's Parlor 389 INDEX. IX SCBJEOT, AXTTHOB. PAGE The Love Elegies of Abel Shufflebottom . . Southey 1. The Poet relates how he obtained De- ha's Pocket-handkerchief 390 2. The Poet expatiates on the Beauty of Do- ha's Hah- 391 3. The Poet relates how he stole a lock of Delia's Hair, and her anger 392 The Baby's Debut James Smith . . 393 Playhouse Musings " . . 396 A Tale of Drury Lane Horace Smith . . 402 Drury's Dirge " . . 408 What is Life ? BlacJcwood . . .410 Fragments " ... 412 The Confession " ... 414 The Milling Match between Entellas and Dares Moore 41 5 Not a Sous had he Got Barham .... 417 Eaising the Devil " .... 418 The London University " .... 419 Domestic Poems Hood 1. Good-night 422 2. A Parental Ode to my Son 423 3. A Serenade 425 Ode to Perry " 426 A Theatrical Curiosity Cruikshank^s Om. . 431 The Secret Sorrow Song for Punch-drinkers The Song of the Humbugged Husband . Temperance Song Lines Madness The Bandit's Fate Lines written after a Battle The Phrenologist to his Mistress . . . The Chemist to his Love A Ballad of Bedlam Stanzas to an Egg A Fragment Eating Soup The Sick Child The Imaginative Crisis Lines to Bessy . Monody on the Death rf an Only CUent . Love on the Ocean Punch . . . , . .432 u . . .433 u . . .433 " . . . , . .434 " . . . . . .435 (( . . .435 (( . . .436 (( . . .43-7 (( . . .437 " . . , . . .438 " . . . . . .439 " . . , . . .439 u . . . 440 (( , . . 440 (( , . . 441 " . . , . . . 441 " . . . . . . 442 u . . . 443 1< , . 444 X INDEX. SUBJECT. ATTTHOR, PAGB " Oh 1 wilt thou Sew my Buttons on? etc.". Punch. . . . . 445 The Paid Bill <( . . 446 Parody for a Reformed Parhament . . . . . 447 The "Waiter "... . . 447 The Last Appendix to Yankee Doodle . . . . 449 Lines for Music . (t . . 450 Drama for Eveiy Day Life . . 451 Proclivior . . 453 Jones at the Barber's Shop . . 455 The Sated One <( . . 456 Sapphics of the Cab-stand (( . . 457 Justice to Scotland (i . 458 The Poetical Cookery-book. The Steak u (( . . 45i Roasted Sucking Pig . . 460 Beignet de Pomme (( . . 461 Cherry Pie <( . . 462 Deviled Biscuit. « . . 462 Red Herrings (( . . 463 Irish Stew (( (( . . 463 Barley Broth . . 464 Calf's Heart (( . . 464 The Christmas Pudding (( . . 465 Apple Pie (( . 466 Lobster Salad « . . 467 Stewed Steak . . 468 Green Pea Soup . . 469 Trifle (( (( . . 470 Mutton Chops . . 470 Barley Water (( . . 471 Boiled Chicken "... (( . . 472 Stewed Duck and Peas . . 473 Curry "... . . 474 The Railway Gilpin, "... . . 475 Elegy 11 . . 478 The Boa and the Blanket u . . 480 The Dilly and the D's (( . . 485 A Book in a Bustle (( . . 492 Stanzas for the Sentimental. 1. On a Tear which Angelina observed trickling down my nose at Dinner-time . (( . . 496 2. On my refusing Angelina a kiss under the Mistletoe (( . . 497 INDEX. 3. On my finding Angelina stop suddenly Punch in a rapid after-supper-polka at Mrs. Tompkins' Ball " . Colloquy on a Cab-stand " . The Song of Hiawatha " . Comfort in Affliction Aytoun The Husband's Petition " The Biter Bit " A Midnight Meditation " Tlie Dirge of tlie Drinker " Francesca da Rimini " Louis Napoleon's Address to his Army . . " The Battle of the Boulevard " Puffs Poetical. 1. Paris and Helen " 2. Tarquin and the Augur " Reflections of a Proud Pedestrian .... Holmes Evening, by a Tailor " Pheethon Saxe . The School-house Lowell. XI PAGE 497 498 499 503 504 506 507 510 511 512 51.3 514 516 517 518 519 522 EPIGRAMMATIC Epigrams of Ben Johnson. To Fine Grand 525 " Brainhardy 525 " Doctor Empiric 526 " Sir Samuel Fuller 526 On Banks, the Usurer 526 " Chevril the Lawyer 526 Epigrammatic Yerses by Samuel Butler. Opinion 527 Critics 527 Hypocrisy 527 Polish 528 The Godly 528 Piety 528 Marriage ; 528 Poets 528 Puffing 529 Pohticians * 529 Fear 529 XU INDEX. SUBJECT. AtrrnoE. pagb The Law Samuel Butler . 530 " *« 530 »» " 530 Confession 530 Smatterers 530 Bad Writers 530 The Opinionative 531 Language of the Learned * 531 Good Writing 531 Courtiers 531 Inventions 531 Logicians 532 Laborious Writers 532 On a Club of Sots 532 HoUand 532 Women 533 Epigrams of Edmund Waller. On a Painted Lady 533 " the Marriage of the Dwarfs 534 Epigrams of Matthew Prior. A SimUe 534 Tlie Flies 535 Phillis's Ase 535 To the Duke de Noailles 536 On Bishop Atterbury 536 Forma Bonum Fragile 531 Earning a Dmner 537 Bibo and Charv.^ 537 The Pedant 53'? Epigrams of Joseph Addison. The Countess of Manchester 538 To an Ill-favored Lady 538 " a Capricious Friend 538 " a Rogue 538 Epigrams of Alexander Pope. On Mrs. Tofts 539 To a Blockhead 539 The Fool and the Poet 539 Epigrams of Dean Swift. On Burning a Dull Poem 539 To a Lady 540 The Cudgeled Husband 540 On seeing Verses written upon Windows at Lins 540 INDEX. Xlll SITBJECT. AirrnOB. PAOB On seeing the Busts of Newton, Locke, etc., Dean Swift . . .54] On the Church's Danger 541 On one Delacourt, etc 541 On a Usurer 541 To Mrs. Biddy Floyd 542 The Reverse 542 The Place of the Damned 543 The Day of Judgment 544 Paulus the Lawyer Lindsay .... 544 Epigrams by Thomas Sheridan. On a Caricature 545 On Dean Swift's Proposed Hospital, etc., 545 To a Dul-ilin Pubhsher 545 Which is "Which Byrom .... 545 On some Lines of Lopez de Yega .... Dr. Johnson . . . 545 On a Fuli-length Portrait of Beau Nash, etc., Chesterfield . . . 546 On Scotland ' Cleveland. . . . 546 Epigrams of Peter Pindar. Edmund Burke's Attack on Warren Hast- ings 546 On an Artist 547 On the Conclusion of his Odes 547 The Lex Talionis upon Benjamm West 548 Barry's Attack upon Sir Joshua Reynolds 549 On the Death of Mr. Hone 549 On George the Third's Patronage of Benja- min West 549 Another on the Same 550 Epitaph on Peter Staggs 550 Tray's Epitaph 550 On a Stone thrown at a very great Man, etc 551 A Consolatory Stanza 551 Epigrams by Robert Bwrm. The Poet's Choice 551 On a celebrated Ruling Elder. 551 On John Dove 552 On Andrew Turner 552 On a Scotch Coxcomb 552 On Grizzel Grim 552 On a Wag in Mauchline 553 Epitaph on W— .553 On a Suicide 553 Epigrams from the German of Lessing. Niger 553 INDEX. A N" je Point Leasing .... 554 True NobiUty .... 554 To a Liar 554 Mendax 554 The Bad Wife 555 The Dead Miser 555 A Fall 555 The Bad Orator 555 The Wise Child 555 Specimen of the Laconic 555 Cupid and Mercury 556 Fritz 556 On Dorilis 556 To a Slow Walker, etc 556 On Two BeaMtiful One-eyed Sisters 556 The Per Contra, or Matrimonial Balance 556 Epigrams of S. T. Coleridge. An Expectoration 557 Expectoration the Second 557 To a Lady 557 Avaro 557 Beelzebub and Job 558 Sentimental 558 An Eternal Poem 558 Bad Poets 558 To Mr. Alexandre, the Yentriloquist . . . Scott 559 The Swallows B. B. Sheridan . . 559 French and Enghsh Erskine . . . ,.559 Epigrams by Thomas Moore. To Sir Hudson Lowe 560 Dialogue 560 To Miss 561 To 662 On being Obhged to Leave a Pleasant Par- ty, etc 561 What my Thought's like ? 561 From the French 562 A Joke Versified 56** The Surprise 562 On 562 On a Sqmnting Poetess 562 On a Tuft-hunter 563 The Kiss 563 Epitaph on Southey 564 INDEX. XV SUBJECT. ArTHOE. PAOB "Wntten in a Young Lady's Common-place Book Moore 564 The Rabbinical Origin of Women 565 Anacreoutique 565 On Butler's Monument Wesley , . . .566 On the Disappointment of the Whig Associates of the Prince Regent, etc Lamb 566 To Professor Airey Sydney Smith . .566 On Lord Dudley and Ward Rogers . . . .566 Epigrams of Lord Byron. To the Author of a Sonnet, etc 667 Windsor Poetics 567 On a Carrier, etc 568 Epigrams of R. H. Barlwm. On the Windows of King's College, etc 568 New-made Honor 569 Eheu Pugaces 569 Anonymous Epigrams, On a Pale Lady, etc 569 Upon Pope's Translation of Homer 569 Recipe for a Modern Bonnet 570 My Wife and I 570 On Two Gentlemen, etc 570 Wellington's Nose 570 The Smoker 571 An Essay on the Understanding 571 To a Living Author 571 Epigrams by Thomas Hood. On the Art Unions 571 The Superiority of Machinery 571 Epigrams by W. Savage Landor. On Observing a Vulgar Name on the Plinth of a Statue 572 Lying in State 572 Epigrams from Fundi. The Cause 572 Irish Particular 572 One Good Turn deserves Another 573 Sticky 573 The Poet FoOed 57? Black and White 573 Inquest — not Extraordinary 573 Domestic Economy 574 On Seeing an Execution 574 XVI INDEX. STTBJEOT. ATJTHOB. PAOX A Voice, and Notliing Else Punch. .... 574 The Amende Honorable 574 The Czar 574 Bas-Bleu 575 To a Rich Young Widow 575 The Railway of Life 575 A Conjugal Conundrum 575 Numbers Altered 57fi Grammar for the Court of Berlin 576 The Empty Bottle Aytoun . . . .576 The Death of Doctor Morrison Bentley^s Miscellany 576 Epigrams by John G. Saxe. On a Recent Classic Controversy 577 Another 577 On an ill-read Lawyer 577 On an Ugl.y Person Sitting for a Daguerreo- type 577 Woman's Will 577 Eamily Quarrels 578 A Revolutionary Hero Lowell 578 Epigrams of Halpin. The Last Resort 578 Feminine Arithmetic 579 The Mushroom Hunt 579 Jupiter Amans London Leader . .580 The Orator's Epitaph Lord Brougham . 580 ECCENTRIC AND NONDESCRIPT. The Jovial Priest's Confession Leigh Hunt . . . 583 Tonis ad Resto Mare Anonymous . . .584 Die Dean Swift . . .584 Moll " ... 585 To My Mistress " ... 585 A Love Song *• . 585 A Gentle Echo on Woman " .586 To my Nose Anonymous . 587 Roger and Dolly Blackwood . . .587 The Irishman " ... 588 A Catalectic Monody Cruikshank^s Om. . 589 A New Song Gay . ')90 NDEX. xni Remiuiscences of a Sentimentalist .... Eood 592 Faithless Nelly Gray " 594 No! " 596 Jacob Omnium's Hoss Thackeray . . . 597 The Wofle New Ballad of Jane Roney and Mary Brown " ... 601 The BaUad of EUza Davis " ... 603 Lines on a Late Hospicious Ewent ... " ... 606 The Lamentable Ballad of the Foundling of Shoreditch " ... 610 The Crystal Palace " ... 613 The Speculators " ... 617 A Letter from Mr. Hosea Big-low, etc. . . Lowell 619 A Letter from a Candidate for the Presi- dencj!^ " 623 The Candidate's Creed » 626 The Courtin' " 629 A Song for a Catarrh Fundi 630 Epitaph on a Candle " 630 Poetry on an Improved Principle .... " 631 On a Rejected Nosegay " 632 A Serenade . . . " " 633 Railroad Nursery Rhyme " 633 An Invitation to the Zoological Gardens . . " 634 To the Leading Periodical " 634 The People and their Palace " 635 A Swell's Homage to Mrs. Stowe .... " 636 The Exclusive's Broken Idol " 637 The Last Kick of Fop's Alley " 637 The Mad Cabman's Song of Sixpence . . " 638 Alarming Prospect " 640 Epitaph on a Locomotive " 643 The Ticket of Leave " 644 A Polka Lyric Barclay Phillips . 646 A Sunnit to the Big Ox Anonymous . . . 646 ENIGMATIC. Riddles by Matthew Prior. Two Riddles 651 Enigma 651 Another 652 XVm INDEX. 8UBJEOT, AXrrnOE. PAOB Riddles by Deem Swift and his friends. A Maypole 652 On the Moon 653 On Ink 654 On a Circle 654 On a Pen 655 A Fan 656 On a Cannon 656 On the Five Senses 657 On Snow 657 On a Candle 658 On a Corkscrew 658 On the Same 659 An Echo 660 OntheYowels 661 On a Pair of Dice 661 On a Shadow in a Glass 661 On Time 662 List of Soubces 664 MISCELLANEOUS. RECEIVEl MISCELLANEOUS TO MY EMPTY PURSE. To you, my purse, and to none other wight, Complain I, for ye be my lady dere; I am sorry now that ye be Hght, For, certes, ye now make me heavy chere; Me were as lefe be laid upon a here, For which unto your mercy thus I crie, Be heavy againe, or els mote I die. Now vouchsafe this day or it be night, That I of you the blissful sowne may here, Or see your color hke the sunne bright, That of yellowness had never pere ; Ye are my life, ye be my hertes stere,^ Queen of comfort and of good companie, Be heavy again, or else mote I die. Now purse, thou art to me my Hves light, And saviour, as downe in this world here. Out of this towne helpe me by your might, Sith that you will not be my treasure, For I am slave as nere as any frere, But I pray unto your curtesie. Be heavy again, or els mote I die. TO CHLOE. AN APOLOGY FOR GOING INTO THE COUNTRY. PETER PINDAKi Ohloe, we must not always be in heaven. For ever toying, ogling, kissing, billing; The joys for which I thousands would have given, Will presently be scarcely worth a shilhng. MISCELLANEOUS. Thy neck is fairer than the Alpine snows, And, sweetly swelling, beats the down of doves; Thy cheek of health, a rival to the rose ; Thy pouting hps, the throne of all the loves j Yet, though thus beautiful beyond expression, That beauty fadeth by too much possession. Economy in love is peace to nature, Much hke economy in worldly matter ; We should be prudent, never hve too fast ; Profusion will not, can not, always last. Lovers are really spendthrifts — 't is a shame — Nothing their thoughtless, wild career can tame, Till penury stares them in the face ; And when they find an empty purse. Grown calmer, wiser, how the fault they curse, And, limping, look with such a sneaking grace I Job's war-horse fierce, his neck with thunder hung, Sunk to an humble hack that carries dung. Smell to the queen of flowers, the fi-agrant rose — SmeU twenty tunes — and then, my dear, thy nose WlU tell thee (not so much for scent athirst) The twentieth drank less flavor than the first Love, doubtless, is the sweetest of all fellows ; Yet often should the httle god retire- Absence, dear Chloe, is a pair of bellows, That keeps alive the sacred fire. TO A FLY, TAKEN OUT OF A BOWL OF PUNCH. PETER PINDiAB, j\B. ! poor intoxicated little knave. Now senseless, floating on the fragrant wave; Why not content the cakes alone to munch ? Dearly thou pay'st for buzzing round the bowl ; Lost to the world, thou busy sweet-hpped soul — . Thus Death, as well as Pleasure, dwells with Punch, MISCELLANEOUS. 23 Now let me take thee out, and moralize — Thus 't is with mortals, as it is with flies, Forever hankering after Pleasure's cup : Though Fate, with all his legions, be at hand, The beasts, the draught of Circe can't withstand, But in goes every nose — th'ey must, will sup. Mad are the passions, as a colt untamed ! When Prudence mounts their backs to ride them mild, They fling, they snort, they foam, they rise inflamed, Insisting on their own sole will so wild. Gadsbud ! my buzzing friend, thou art not dead ; The Fates, so kind, have not yet snapped thy thread; By heavens, thou mov'st a leg, and now its brother. And kicking, lo, again, thou mov'st another 1 And now thy Httle drunken eyes unclose, And now thou feelest for thy Httle nose. And, finding it, thou rubbest thy two hands Much as to say, " I 'm glad I 'm here again." And well may est thou rejoice — 'tis very plain, That near wert thou to Death's unsocial lands. And now thou rollest on thy back about, Happy to find thyself ahve, no doubt — Now turnest — on the table making rings , Now crawling, forming a wet track. Now shaking the rich hquor fi:om thy back, Now fluttering nectar from thy silken wings . Now standing on thy head, thy strength to find, And poking out thy small, long legs behind ; And now thy pinions dost thou briskly ply; Preparing now to leave me — farewell, fly I Go, join thy brothers on yon sunny board, And rapture to thy family afford — There vnlt thou meet a mistress, or a wife, That saw thee drunk, drop senseless in the stream; Who gave, perhaps, the wide-resounding scream, And now sits groaning for thy precious life. 24 MISCELLANEOUS. Yes, go and carry comfort to thy friends, And wisely tell them thy imprudence ends. Let buns and sugar for the future charm ; These will dehght, and feed, and work no harm- While Punch, the grinning, merry imp of sin, Invites th' unwary wanderer to a kiss. Smiles in his face, as though he meant him bliss, Then, hke an alligator, drags him in. MAN MAY BE HAPPY. PETER FmrAR. " Man may be happy, if he will :" I 've said it often, and I think so still; Doctrine to make the million stare ! Know then, each mortal is an actual Jove ; Can brew what weather he shall most approve, Or wind, or calm, or foul, or fair. But here 's the mischief— man's an ass, I say; Too fond of thunder, hghtning, storm, and rain ; He hides the charming, cheerful ray That spreads a smile o'er hOl and plain I Dark, he must court the skull, and spade, and shroud— The mistress of his soul must be a cloud ! Who told him that he must be cursed on earth ? The God of Nature ? — ^No such thing; Heaven whispered him, the moment of his birth, "Don't cry, my lad, but dance and smg; Don't be too wise, and be an ape : — In colors let thy soul be dressed, not crape. " Eoses shall smooth life's journey, and adorn ; Yet mind me — ^if, through want of grace. Thou mean'st to fling the blessing m my face, Thou hast full leave to tread upon a thorn." Yet some there are, of men, I think the worst, Poor imps ! unhappy, if they can', je cursed — MISCELLANEOUS. 25 Forever brooding over Misery's eggs, As though hfe's pleasure were a deadly sin; Mousing forever for a gin To catch their happiness by the legs. Even at a dinner some will be unblessed, However good the viands, and well dressed : They always come to table with a scowl, Squint with a face of verjuice o'er each dish, Fault the poor flesh, and quarrel with the fish. Curse cook and wife, and, loathing, eat and growL A cart-load, lo, their stomachs steal, Yet swear they can not make a meal. I like not the blue-devil-hunting crew I I hate to drop the discontented jaw 1 let me JSTature's simple smile pursue. And pick even pleasure fi-om a straw. ADDRESS TO THE TOOTHACHE. ?rRITTEN WHEN THE AUTHOR WAS GRIEVOUSLY TORMENTEE BY THAT DISORDER. ROBERT BURNS. My curse upon thy venom'd stang. That shoots my tortur'd gums alang ; And thro' my lugs gies mony a twang, Wi' gnawing vengeance; Tearing my nerves wi' bitter pang. Like racking engines 1 When fevers burn, or ague freezes, Rheumatics gnaw, or cholic squeezes ; Our neighbors' sympathy may ease us, Wi' pitying moan ; But thee — ^thou hell o' a' diseases, Aye mocks our groan I Adown my beard the slavers trickle I I kick the wee stools o'er the mickle, 2 26 MISCELLANEOUS. As round the fire the giglets keckle, To see me loup ; While, raving mad, I wish a heckle Were in their doup. 0' a' the num'rons human dools, 111 har'sts, daft bargains, cutty-stools, Or worthy friends rak'd i' the mools, Sad sight to see ! The tricks o' knaves, or fash o' fools. Thou bear'st the gree. Where'er that place be priests ca' heU, Whence a' the tones o' mis'ry yell. And ranked plagues their numbers tell. In dreadfu' raw. Thou, Toothache, surely bear'st the bell, Amang them a' ; thou grim miscliief-making chiel. That gars the notes of discord squeel, 'Till daft mankind aft dance a reel In gore a shoe-thick ; — Qie a' the faes o' Scotland's weal A towmond's Toothache! THE PIG. A COLLOQUIAL POEM. ROBERT SOUTHET Jacob ! I do not hke to see thy nose Turn'd up in scornful curve at yonder pig. It would be well, my friend, if we, like him, Were perfect in our kind ! . . And why despise The sow-born grunter ? . . He is obstinate. Thou answerest ; ugly, and the filthiest beast That banquets upon oflfal. . . . Now I pray you Hear the pig's counsel. Is he obstinate ? We must not, Jacob, be deceived by words ; ^f! must not take them as unheeding hands MISCELLANEOUS. 27 Receive base money at the current worth, But with a just suspicion try their sound, And in the even balance weigh them weU. See now to what this obstinacy comes : A poor, mistreated, democratic beast. He knows that his unmerciful drivers seek Their profit, and not his. He hath not learned That pigs were made for man, . . born to be brawn'd And baconized : that he must please to give Just what his gracious masters please to take ; Perhaps his tusks, the weapons Nature gave For self-defense, the general privilege ; Perhaps, . . hark, Jacob ! dost thou hear that horn ? Woe to the young posterity of Pork ! Their enemy is at hand. Again. Thou say'st The pig is ugly. Jacob, look at him ! Those eyes have taught the lover flattery. His face, . . nay, Jacob ! Jacob ! were it fair To judge a lady in her dishabille ? Fancy it dressed, and with saltpeter rouged. Behold his tail, my friend ; with curls like that The wanton hop marries her stately spouse : So crisp in beauty Amoretta's hair Rings round her lover's soul the chains of love. And what is beauty, but the aptitude Of parts harmonious ? Grive thy fancy scope, And thou wilt find that no imagined change Can beautify this beast. Place at his end The starry glories of the peacock's pride, Give him the swan's white breast; for his horn-hoo& Shape such a foot and ankle as the waves Crowded in eager rivalry to kiss When Yenus from the enamor'd sea arose ; . . Jacob, thou canst but make a monster of him I All alteration man could think, would mar His pig-perfection. The last charge, . . he lives A dirty life. Here I could shelter him With noble and right-reverend precedents. And show by sanction of authority That 'tis a very honorable thing 28 MISCELLANEOUS. To thrive by dirty ways. But let me rest On better ground the unanswerable defense. The pig is a philosopher, who knows No prejudice. Dirt? . . Jacob, what is dirt? If matter, . . why the dehcate dish that tempts An o'ergorged epicure to the last morsel That stuffs Mm to the throat-gates, is no more If matter be not, but as sages say, Spirit is all, and aU things visible Are one, the infinitely modified, Thmk, Jacob, what that pig is, and the mire Wherein he stands knee-deep ! And there ! the breeze Pleads with me, and has won thee to a smile That speaks conviction. O'er yon blossom'd field Of beans it came, and thoughts of bacon rise. SNUFF. ROBERT SOUTHET A DELICATE pinch ! oh how it tingles up The titillated nose, and fills the eyes And breast, till in one comfortable sneeze The full-collected pleasure bursts at last ! Most rare Columbus ! thou shalt be for this The only Christopher in my calendar. Why, but for thee the uses of the nose Were half unknown, and its capacity Of joy. The su mm er gale that from the heath, At midnoon glowing with the golden gorse, Bears its balsamic odor, but provokes Not satisfies the sense ; and all the flowers. That with their unsubstantial fragrance tempt And disappoint, bloom for so short a space, That half the year the nostrils would keep Lent, But that the kind tobacconist admits No winter in his work; when Nature sleeps His wheels roll on, and still administer A plenitude of joy, a tangible smell. What are Peni and those Golcondan mines To thee, Vu-ginia ? miserable reakns, MISCELLANEOUS. The produce of inhuman toil, they send Gold for the greedy, jewels for the vain. But thine are common comforts ! . . To omit Pipe-panegyric and tobacco-praise. Think what a general joy the snuff-box gives, Europe, and far above Pizarro's name Write Ealeigh in thy records of renown 1 Him let the school-boy bless if he behold His master's box produced, for when he sees The thumb and finger of authority Stuffed up the nostrils : when hat, head, and wig Shake aU ; when on the waistcoat black, brown dust, Prom the oft-reiterated pinch profuse Profusely scattered, lodges in its folds. And part on the magistral table Hghts, Part on the open book, soon blown away, Pull surely soon shall then the brow severe Relax ; and from vituperative lips Words that of birch remind not, sounds of praise, And jokes that must be laughed at shall proceed. A FAREWELL TO TOBACCO. GHABLES LAMB. Mat the Babylonish curse Straight confound my stammering veise, If I can a passage see In this word-perplexity, Or a fit expression find. Or a language to my mind, (StUl the phrase is wide or scant) To take leave of thee, great plant 1 Or in any terms relate Half my love, or half my hate : For I hate, yet love thee, so, That, whichever thing I show, The plain truth will seem to be A constrain'd hyperbole. And the passion to proceed More from a mistress than a weed. so MISCELLANEOUS. Sooty retainer to the vine, Bacchus' black servant, negro fine ; Sorcerer, that mak'st us dote upon Thy begrimed complexion. And, for thy pernicious sake, More and greater oaths to break Than reclaimed lovers take 'G-ainst women : thou thy siege dost lay Much too in the female way. While thou suck'st the lab'ring breath Faster than kisses or than death, That our worst foes can not find us, that would thwart us s, shooting at us ; While each man, through thy height'ning steam, Does like a smoking Etna seem. And aU about us does express (Fancy and wit in richest dress) A Sicihan fruitfulness. Thou through such a mist dost show ua> That our best friends do not know us, And, for those allowed features. Due to reasonable creatures, Liken'st us to fell Chimeras, Monsters that, who see us, fear us; Worse than Cerberus or Geryon, Or, who first loved a cloud, Ixion. Bacchus we know, and we aUow His tipsy rites. But what art thoi^ That but by reflex canst show What his deity can do, As the false Egyptian spell Aped the true Hebrew miracle ? Some few vapors thou may'st raise. The weak brain may serve to amaze, But to the reins and nobler heart Canst nor life nor heat impart MISCELLANEOUS. 31 Brother of Bacchus, later bom, The old world was sure forlorn Wanting thee, that aidest more The god's victories than before All his panthers, and the brawls Of his piping Bacchanals. These, as stale, we disallow, Or judge of thee meant : only thou His true Indian conquest art ; And, for ivy round his dart, The reformed god now weaves A finer thjrrsus of thy leaves. Scent to match thy rich perfume Chemic art did ne'er presume Through her quaint alembic strain, None so sov'reign to the brain ; Nature, that did in thee excel, Framed again no second smelL Eoses, violets, but toys For the smaller sort of boys, Or for greener damsels meant ; Thou art the only manly scent. Stinking' st of the stinking kind. Filth of the mouth and fog of the mind, Africa, that brags her foison, Breeds no such prodigious poison Henbane, nightshade, both together, Hemlock, aconite Nay, rather, Plant divine, of rarest virtue ; Blisters on the tongue would hurt you, 'Twas but in a sort I blamed thee ; None e'er prosper'd who defamed thee ; Irony all, and feign' d abuse. Such as perplex'd lovers use. At a need, when, in despair To paint forth their fairest fair. Or in part but to express That exceeding comeHness Which their fancies doth so strike, They borrow language of dislike ; 32 MISCELLANEOUS. And, instead of Dearest Miss, Jewel, Honey, Sweetheart, Bliss, And those forms of old admiring, CaU her Cockatrice and Siren, Basilisk, and all that's evil. Witch, Hyena, Mermaid, Devil, Ethiop, Wench, and Blackamoor, Monkey, Ape, and twenty more ; Friendly Trait'ress, loving Foe — Not that she is truly so, But no other way they know A contentment to express, Borders so upon excess. That they do not rightly wot * Whether it be pain or not. Or, as men, constrain' d to part With what's nearest to their heart, While their sorrow 's at the height^ Lose discrimination quite, And their hasty wrath let fall, To appease their frantic gall. On the darling tiling whatever, WJience they feel it death to sever, Though it be, as they, perforce, Guiltless of the sad divorce. For I must (nor let it grieve thee, Friendhest of plants, that I must) leave thea For thy sake, tobacco, I Would do any thing but die. And but seek to extend my days Long enough to sing thy praise. But, as she, who once hath been A king's consort, is a queen Ever after, nor will bate Any title of her state, Though a widow, or divorced, So I, from thy converse forced. The old name and style retain, A right Katherine of Spain ; And a seat, too, 'mongst the joys Of the blest Tobacco Boys ; MISCELLAN EOUS. Where, though I, by sour physician, Am debarr'd the full fruition Of thy favors, I may catch Some collateral sweets, and snatch Sidelong odors, that give life Like glances from a neighbor's wife ; And still hve in the by-places And the suburbs of thy graces ; And in thy borders take delight, An unconquer'd Canaanite. WRITTEN AFTER SWIMMING FROM SESTOS TO ABYDOS. BYRON. If, in the month of dark December, Leander, who was nightly wont (What maid will not the tale remember ?) To cross thy stream broad Hellespont) If, when the wint'ry tempest roar'd. He sped to Hero nothing loth, And thus of old thy current pour'd, Fair Venus ! how I pity both ! For me, degenerate, modern wretch, Though in the genial month of May, My dripping limbs I faintly stretch, And think I 've done a feat to-day. But since he crossed the rapid tide, According to the doubtful story. To woo — and — Loid knows what beside, And swam for Love, as I for Grlory ; 'T were hard to say who fared the best : Sad mortals ! thus the gods still plague you I He lost his labor, I my jest ; For he was drowned, and I 've the ague 2* 84 MISCELLANEOUS. THE LISBON PACKET. Huzza! Hodgson, we are going, Our embargo 's off at last ; Favorable breezes blowing Bend the canvas o'er the mast. From aloft the signal 's streaming, Hark ! the farewell gun is fired ; Women screeching, tars blaspheming, Tell us that our time 's expired. Here 's a rascal Come to task all, Prying from the custom-house ; Trunks unpacking. Cases cracking, Not a corner for a mouse 'Scapes unsearched amid the racket, Ere we sail on board the Packet. Now our boatmen quit their mooring. And all hands must ply the oar ; Baggage from the quay is lowering, We 're impatient — push from shore. " Have a care ! that case holds liquor — Stop the boat — I 'm sick — Lord !" " Sick, ma'am, damme, you '11 be sicker Ere you 've been an hour on board." Thus are screaming Men and women, Gemmen, ladies, servants, Jacks; Here entanghng, All are wranghng. Stuck together close as wax. — Such the general noise and racket, Ere we reach the Lisbon Packet. Now we 've reached her, lo ! the captain, G-allant Kid, commands the crew ; Passengers their berths are clapped in, Some to grumble, some to spew. BYROM MISCELLAi^EOUS. Sfi ' Hey day I call you that a cabin? Why, 'tis hardly three feet square ; Not enough to stOAV Queen Mab in — Who the deuce can harbor there ?" " Who, sir ? plenty- Nobles twenty Did at once my vessel fill." — "Did they? Jesus, How you squeeze us ! Would to Grod they did so still : Then I 'd 'scape the heat and racket Of the good ship Lisbon Packet." Fletcher I Murray! Bob I where are you? Stretched along the decks like logs — Bear a hand, you jolly tar, you I Here 's a rope's end for the dogs. Hobhouse muttering fearful curses, As tlie hatchway down he rolls, Now his breakfast, now his verses, Vomits forth — and damns our souls. " Here 's a stanza On Braganza — Help !"— " A couplet ?"— ^' No, a cup Of warm water — " " What 's the matter ?" " Zounds ! my Uver " s coming up ; I shall not survive the racket Of this brutal Lisbon Packet" Now at length we 're off for Turkey, Lord knows when we shall come back I Breezes foul and tempests murky May unship us in a crack. But, since life at most a jest is, As philosophers allow. Still to laugh by far the best is, Then laugh on — as I do now. Laugh at all things. Great and small things, 86 MISCELLANEOUS. Sick or well, at sea or shore; While we 're quaffing, Let 's have laughing — Who the devU cares for more ? — Some good wine ! and who would lack it, Even on board the Lisbon Packet ? TO FANNY. THOMAS MOORK Never mind how the pedagogue proses, You want not antiquity's stamp, The lip that's so scented by roses. Oh ! never must smell of the lamp. Old Chloe, whose withering kisses Have long set the loves at defiance. Now done with the science of bUsses, May fly to the bhsses of science ! Young Sappho, for want of employments, Alone o'er her Ovid may melt. Condemned but to read of enjoyments, Wliich wiser Corinna had felt But for you to be buried in books — Oh, Fanny ! they're pitiful sages ; Who could not in one of your looks Eead more than in mUHons of pages ! Astronomy finds in your eye Better Mght than she studies above, And music must borrow your sigh As the melody dearest to love. ^ In Ethics — 'tis you that can check, In a minute, their doubts and their quarrels Oh ! show but that mole on your neck. And 'twOl soon put an end to their morals. Your Arithmetic only can trip When to kiss and to count you endeavor ; But eloquence glows on your hp When you swear that you'll love me forevei MISCELLANEOUS. *» Thus you see what a brilliant alliance Of arts is assembled in you — A course of more exquisite science Man never need wish to go through I And, oh I — if a feUow like me May confer a diploma of hearts, With my lip thus I seal your degree, My divine httle ^Mistress of Arts I YOUNG JESSICA. THOMAS MOOR* Young Jessica sat all the day, In love-dreams languishingly pining, Her needle bright neglected lay. Like truant genius idly sliining. Jessy, 'tis in idle hearts That love and mischief are most nimble ; The safest shield against the darts Of Cupid, is Minerva's thimble. A child who with a magnet play'd, And knew its winning ways so wily, The magnet near the needle laid. And laughing, said, " We '11 steal it slily.** The needle, having naught to do. Was pleased to let the magnet wheedle, Till closer still the tempter drew, And off, at length, eloped the needle. Now, had this needle turn'd its eye To some gay reticule's construction, It ne'er had stray'd from duty's tie, Nor felt a magnet's sly seduction. Girls would you keep tranquil hearts. Your snowy fingers must be nimble ; The safest shield against the darts Of Cupid, is Minerva's thimble. 88 MISCELLANEOUS. RINGS AND SEALS. THOMAS MOORR " Gro 1" said the angry weeping maid, " The charm is broken ! — once betray'd, Oh I never can- my heart rely On word or look, on oath or sigh. Take back the gifts, so sweetly given, With promis'd faith and vows to heaven ; That httle ring, which, night and morn, With wedded truth my hand hath worn ; That seal which oft, in moments blest, Thou hast upon my Up imprest. And sworn its dewy spring should be A fountain seal'd for only thee I Take, take them back, the gift and vow, All suUied, lost, and hateful, now!" I took the ring — the seal I took, While oh ! her every tear and look Were such as angels look and shed, When man is by the world misled ! Q-ently I whisper' d, "Fanny, dear I Not half thy lover's gifts are here : Say, where are all the seals he gave To every ringlet's jetty wave. And where is every one he printed Upon that hp, so ruby-tinted — Seals of the purest gem of bHss, Oh ! richer, softer, far than this ! " And then the ring — my love I recall How many rings, delicious all. His arms around that neck hath twisted, Twining warmer far than this did ! Where are they all, so sweet, so many ? Oh I dearest, give back aU, if any I" While thus I murmur'd, trembling too Lest aU the nymph had vow'd was true, I saw a smile relenting rise 'Mid the moist azure of her eyes. MISCELLANEOUS. *• Like day-light o'er a sea of blue, While yet the air is dim with dew 1 She let her cheek repose on mine, She let my arms around her twine — Oh ! who can tell the bliss one feels In thus exchanging rmgs and seals I NETS AND CAGES. THOMAS MOOBS. Come, Hsten to my story, while Your needle's task you ply ; At what I sing some maids will smile, While some, perhaps, may sigh. Though Love's the theme, and Wisdom blames Such florid songs as ours, Yet Truth, sometimes, hke eastern dames, Can speak her thoughts by flowers. Then hsten, maids, come hsten, while Your needle's task you ply ; At what I sing there's some may smile, While some, perhaps, will sigh. Young Cloe, bent on catching Loves, Such nets had leam'd to frame. That none, in all our vales and groves. Ere caught so much small game : While gentle Sue, less given to roam, When Cloe's nets were taking These flights of birds, sat still at home, One small, neat Love-cage makmg. Come, hsten, maids, etc. Much Cloe laugh'd at Susan's task; But mark how things went on : These hght-caught Loves, ere you could ask Their name and age, were gone I So weak poor Cloe's nets were wove. That, though she charm' d into them New game each hour, the youngest Love Was able to break through them. Come, hsten, maids, etc. 40 MISCELLANEOUS. Meanwhile, young Sue, whose cage was wrought Of bars too strong to sever, One Love with golden pinions caught, . And caged him there forever ; Instructing thereby, aU coquettes, Whate'er their looks or ages. That, though 'tis pleasant weaving Nets, 'Tis wiser to make Cages. Thus, maidens, thus do I beguile The task your fingers ply — May all who hear, like Susan smile, Ah I not like Cloe sigh 1 SALAD. SYDNEY SMITH. To make this condiment, your poet begs The pounded yellow of two hard-boiled eggs ; Two boiled potatoes, passed through kitchen-sieve, Smoothness and softness to the salad give ; Let onion atoms lurk within the bowl. And, half-suspected, animate the whole. Of mordant mustard add a single spoon, Distrust the condiment that bites so soon ; But deem it not, thou man of herbs, a fault, To add a double quantity of salt. And, lastly, o'er the flavored compound toss A magic soup-spoon of anchovy sauce. Oh, green and glorious ! Oh, herbaceous treat 1 'T would tempt the dying anchorite to eat ; Back to the world he 'd turn his fleeting soul, And plunge his fingers in the salad bowl 1 Serenely full, the epicure would say. Fate can not harm me, I have dined to-day I M 1 SCELL A.NEOUS. 4] Ml LETTERS. R. HARRIS BARHAM. " Litera scrlpta manet"— Old Saw. Another mizzling, drizzling day ! Of clearing up there 's no appearance ; So I '11 sit down without delay, And here, at least, I '11 make a clearance 1 Oh ne'er " on such a day as this," Would Dido with her woes oppressed Have woo'd iEneas back to bliss, Or Trohus gone to hunt for Cressid 1 No, they 'd have stay'd at home, Hke me, And popp'd then- toes upon the fender, And drank a quiet cup of tea : On days hke this one can't be tender. So, Molly, draw that basket nigher, And put my desk upon the table — Bring that portfoho — stir the fire — Now off as fast as you are able ! First here 's a card from Mrs. G-rimes, " A ball 1" — she knows that I 'm no dancer— That woman 's ask'd me fifty times, And yet I never send an answer. " Dear Jack, — Just lend me twenty pounds, TUl Monday next, when I 'U return it. Yours truly, Henry Gibbs." Why Z— ds ! I 've seen the man but twice — ^here, bum it. One from my cousin Sophy Daw — FuU of Aunt Margery's distresses ; "The cat has kitten' d ' in the draw^ And ruin'd two bran-new silk dresses." 42 MISCELLANEOUS. From Sam, " The Chancellor's motto," — ^nay Confound his puns, he knows I hate 'em; " Pro Rege, Lege, Grege," — Ay, •' For King read Mob 1" Brougham's old erratum. From Seraphina Price — " At two" — " Till then I can't, my dearest John, stir ;'' Two more because I did not go_ Beginning " Wretch" and " Faithless Monster I " Dear Sir,— " This morning Mrs. P Who 's doing quite as well as may be, Presented me at half past three Precisely, with another baby. " We 'U name it John, and know with pleasure You '11 stand" — Five guineas more, confound it I— - I wish they 'd call it Nebuchadnezzar, Or thrown it in the Thames and drown' d it. What have we next ? A civil dun : " John Brown would take it as a favor" — Another, and a surlier one, " I can't put up with sich behavior." *' BiU so long standing," — " quite tired out,"— "Must sit down to insist on payment," 'Called ten times," — Here 's a fuss about A few coats, waistcoats, and small raiment For once I'll send an answer, and in- form Mr. Snip he need n't " caU" so ; But when liis biU 's as " tired of standing" As he is, beg 't wlU " sit down also." This from my rich old Uncle Ned, Thanking me for my annual present ; And saying he last Tuesday wed His cook-maid, MoUy — vastly pleasant i An ill-spelt note from Tom at school. Begging I '11 let him learn the fiddle ; A.nother from that precious fool, Miss Pyefinch, with a stupid riddle. MISCELLANEOUS. 43 " D' ye give it up ?" Indeed I do ! Confound those antiquated minxes : I won't play " Billy Black'' to a " Blue" Or (Edipus to such old spliinxes. A note sent up from Kent to show me, Left with my bailiff, Peter King ; "'I 'U burn them precious stacks down, blow me I *' Yours most sincerely, " Captain Swing." Four begging letters with petitions. One from my sister Jane, to pray I 'U execute a few commissions" In Bond-street, " when I go that way." " And buy at Pearsall's in the city Twelve skeins of silk for netting purses : Color no matter, so it's pretty ; — Two hundred pens" — two hundred curses ! From Mistress Jones : "My little Billy Goes up his schooling to begin. Will you just step to Piccadilly, And meet him when the coach comes in ? " And then, perhaps, you will as well, see The poor dear fellow safe to school At Dr. Smith's in Little Chelsea !" Heaven send he flog the Httle fool ! From Lady Snooks : " Dear Sir, you know You promised me last week a Eebus ; A something smart and apropos^ For my new Album ?" — Aid me, Phoebus ! "My first is follow'd by pay second ; Yet should my first my second see, A dire mishap it would be reckon'd, And sadly shock'd my first would be. " Were I but what my whole impHes, And pass'd by chance across your portal * You'd cry ' Can I beheve my eyes ? I never saw so queer a mortal 1' 44 . MISCELLANEOUS. " For then my head would not be on, My arms their shoulders must abandon ; My very body would be gone, I should not have a leg to stand on." Come that's dispatch' d — what follows ? — Stay " Reform demanded by the nation; Vote for Tagrag and Bobtail !" Ay, By Jove a blessed Reformation I Jack, clap the saddle upon Rose — Or no ! — the filly — she's the fleeter ; The devil take the rain — here goes, I'm off — a plumper for Sir Peter I THE POPLAR. R. HARRIS BARHAM, Ay, here stands the Poplar, so tall and so stately, On whose tender rind — 'twas a Uttle one then — We carved her initials ; though not very lately, We tliink in the year eighteen hundred and ten. Yes, here is the G- which proclaimed G-eorgiana ; Our heart's empress then ; see, 'tis grown aU askew; And it's not without grief we perforce entertain a Conviction, it now looks much more like a Q. This should be the great D too, that once stood for Dobbin, Her lov'd patronymic — ah ! can it be so ? Its once fair proportions, time, too, has been robbing ; A D ? — we '11 be Deed if it isn't an 1 Alas ! how the soul sentimental it vexes. That thus on our labors stern Ohronos should frown ' Should change our soft liquids to izzards and Xes, And turn true-love's alphabet all upside down 1 MISCELLANEOUS. 46 SPRING. A NEW VERSION. THOMAS HOOD. ** Bixm. The air bites shrewdly — it is very cold. Sor. It is a nipping and eager air."— Hamlet. Come, gentle Spring ! ethereal mildness, come 1" ! Thomson, void of rhyme as well as reason, How couldst thou thus poor human nature hum ? There 's no such season. The Spring 1 I shrink and shudder at her name ! For why, I find her breath a bitter bUghter 1 And suffer from her hlows as if they came From Spring the Fighter. Her praises, then, let hardy poets sing, And be her tuneful laureates and upholders, Who do not feel as if they had a Spring Poured down their shoulders ! Let others eulogize her floral shows ; From me they can not win a single stanza. I know her blooms are in full blow — and so 's The Influenza. Her cowslips, stocks, and lilies of the vale, Her honey-blossoms that you hear the bees at Her pansies, daffodils, and primrose pale, Are things I sneeze at I Fair is the vernal quarter of the year ! And fair its early buddings and its blowings — But just suppose Consumption's seeds appear With other sowings 1 For me, I find, when eastern winds are high, A frigid, not a genial inspiration ; Nor can, hke Iron-Chested Chubb, defy An inflammation. 4d MISCELLANEOUS. Smitten by breezes from the land of plague, To me all vernal luxuries are fables, ! where 's the Spring in a rheumatic leg, Stiff as a table's ? I limp in agony — I wheeze and cough ; And quake with Ague, that great Agitator , Nor dream, before July, of leaving off My Resphator. What wonder if in May itself I lack A peg for laudatory verse to hang on ? — Spring, mild and gentle ! — ^yes, a Sprmg-heeled Jack To those he sprang on. In short, whatever panegyrics He In fulsome odes too many to be cited, The tenderness of Spring is all my eye, And that is bhghted ! ODE. ON A DISTANT PROSPECT OF CLAPHAM ACADEMY. THOMAS HOOn An me ! those old familiar bounds ! That classic house, those classic grounds. My pensive thought recalls ! What tender urchins now confine, What httle captives now repine, Within yon irksome walls ! Ay, that 's the very house ! I know Its ugly windows, ten a row ! Its chimneys in the rear ! And there 's the iron rod so high, That drew the thunder from the si£j And turned our table-beer I MISCELLANEOUS. 47 There I was birched ! there I was bred I There hke a Uttle Adam fed From Learning's woeful tree ! The weary tasks I used to con ! — The hopeless leaves I wept upon I — Most fruitful leaves to me ! The summoned class ! — the awful bow f— I wonder who is master now And wholesome anguish sheds 1 How many ushers now employs, How many maids to see the boys Have nothing in their heads 1 And Mrs. S * * * ?— Doth she abet (Like Pallas in the palor) yet Some favored two or three — The little Crichtons of the hour, Her muffin-medals that devour, And swill her prize — ^bohea ? Ay, there 's the playground ! there 's the lime, Beneath whose shade in summer's prime So wildly I have read ! — Who sits there noio^ and skims the cream Of young Romance, and weaves a dream Of Love and Cottage-bread ? Who struts the Randall of the walk ? Who models tiny heads in chalk ? Who scoops the hght canoe ? What early genius buds apace ? Where 's Poynter ? Harris ? Bowers ? Chase ? Hal BayUs ? bUthe Carew ? Alack I they 're gone — a thousand ways I And some are serving in " the Greys," And some have perished young I — Jack Harris weds his second wife ; Hal Baylis drives the wayne of life j And bUthe Carew — is hung I 48 MISCELLANEOUS. Grave Bowers teaches ABO To Savages at Owhjee ; Poor Chase is with the worms 1 — All are gone — the olden breed I — New crops of mushroom boys succeeds, "And push us from our forms T Lo 1 where they scramble forth, and shout, And leap, and skip, and mob about, At play where we have played 1 Some hop, some run (some fall); some twine Their crony arms ; some in the shine, And some are in the shade ! Lo there what mixed conditions run 1 The orphan lad ; the widow's son ; And Fortune's favored care — The wealthy born, for whom she hath Macadamized the future path — The nabob's pampered heir I Some brightly starred — some evil born— For honor some, and some for scorn — For fair or foul renown ! Good, bad, indifferent — none they lack I Look, here 's a white, and there 's a black f And there 's a Creole brown I Some laugh and sing, some mope and weep, And wish Hidr frugal sires would keep Their only sons at home; — Some tease the future tense, and plan ' The full-grown doings of the man, And pant for years to come ! A foohsh wish ! There 's one at hoop ; And four aX fives! and five who stoop The marble taw to speed ! And one that curvets in and out, Reining his fellow-cob about, Would I were in his steed! MISCELLANEOUS. 49 Yet he would gladly halt and drop That boyish harness o&, to swop With this world's heavy van — To toil, to tug. httle fool I While thou can be a horse at school To wish to be a man 1 Perchance thou deem'st it were a thing To wear a crown — to be a kingl And sleep on regal down ! Alas ! thou know'st not kingly cares ; Far happier is thy head that wears That hat without a crown I And dost thou think that years acquire New added joys ? Dost think thy sire More happy than his son ? That manhood's mirth ? — 0, go thy ways To Drury-lane when P^ys, And see how forced our fiin ! Thy taws are brave ! — thy tops are rare I— Our tops are spun with coils of care, Our dumps are no delight! — The Elgin marbles are but tame. And 'tis at best a sorry game To fly the Muse's kite 1 Our hearts are dough, our heels are lead, Our topmost joys fall dull and dead, Like balls with no rebound! And often with a faded eye We look behind, and send a sigh Toward that merry ground ! Then be contented. Thou hast got The most of heaven in thy young lot; There 's sky-blue in thy cup ! Thou 'It find thy manhood all too fast — Soon come, soon gone ! and age at last A sorry breaking up I 3 50 MISCELLANEOUS. SCHOOL AND SCHOOL-FELLOWS. W. MACKWORTII PRAK© Twelve years ago I made a mock Of filthy trades and traffics : I wondered what they meant by stock ; I wrote deUghtful sapphics : I knew the streets of Rome and Troy, I supped with fates and furies ; Twelve years ago I was a boy, A happy boy at Drury's. Twelve years ago ! — how many a thought Of faded pains and pleasures, Those whispered syllables have brought .From memory's hoarded treasures ! The fields, the forms, the beasts, the books. The glories and disgraces, The voices of dear friends, the looks Of old familiar faces. Where are my friends ? — I am alone, No playmate shares my beaker — Some lie beneath the church-yard stone. And some before the Speaker ; And some compose a tragedy. And some compose a rondo ; And some draw sword for liberty, And some draw pleas for John Doe. Tom Mill was used to blacken eyes. Without the fear of sessions ; Charles Medler loathed false quantities, As much as false professions ; Now MiU keeps order in the land, A magistrate pedantic ; And Medler's feet repose unscanned Beneath the wide Atlantic. Wild Nick, whose oaths made such a din. Does Dr. Martext's duty; And MuUion, w^ith that monstrous chin, Is married to a beauty ; MISCELLANEOUS. 51 And Barrel studies, week by week, His Mant and not his Manton j And Ball, who was but poor at Greek, Is very rich at Canton. And I am eight-and-twenty now — The world's cold chain has bound me; And darker shades are on my brow, And sadder scenes around me : In Parliament I liU my seat, With many other noodles ; And lay my head in Germyn-street, And sip my hock at Doodle's. But often when the cares of life, Have set my temples aching, When visions haunt me of a wife. When duns await my waking, When Lady Jane is in a pet, Or Hobby in a hurry. When Captain Hazard wins a bet, Or BeauHeu spoils a curry : For hours and hours, I tliink and talk Of each remembered hobby : I long to lounge in Poet's Walk — Or shiver in the lobby ; I wish that I could run away From House, and court, and levee. Where bearded men appear to-day, Just Eton boys, grown heavy ; That I could bask in childhood's sun. And dance o'er childhood's roses; And find huge wealth in one pound one, Yast wit and broken noses ; And pray Sir Giles at Datchet Lane, And call the milk-maids Houris ; That I could be a boy again — A happy boy at Drury's I 52 MISCELLANEOUS. THE VICAR. "W. MACKWORTH PRAED. Some years ago, ere Time and Taste Had turned our parish topsy-turvy, When Darnel Park was Darnel Waste, And roads as little known as scurvy, The man who lost his way between St. Marys' EQll and Sandy Thicket, Was always shown across the Green, And guided to the Parson's Wicket. Back flew the bolt of lisson lath ; Fair Margaret in her tidy kirtle, Led the lorn traveler up the path, Through clean-chpped rows of box and myrtle : And Don and Sancho, Tramp and Tray, Upon the parlor steps collected, Wagged aU their tails, and seemed to say, "Our master knows you; you 're expected 1" Up rose the Reverend Doctor Brown, Up rose the Doctor's " winsome marrow ;" The lady lay her knitting down, Her husband clasped his ponderous Barrow ; Whate'er the stranger's caste or creed. Pundit or papist, saint or sinner, He found a stable for his steed. And welcome for himself, and dinner. If, when he reached his journey's end, And warmed himself in court or college, He had not gained an honest friend. And twenty curious scraps of knowledge :— If he departed as he came, With no new Hght on love or hquor, — Good sooth the traveler was to blame, And not the Vicarage, or the Vicar. His talk was like a stream which runs With rapid change from rocks to roses; It slipped from politics to puns: It passed from Mohammed to Moses : MISCELLANEOUS. 53 Begmning with the laws which keep The planets in their radiant courses, And ending with some precept deep For dressing eels or shoeing horses. He was a shrewd and sound divine, Of loud Dissent the mortal terror ; And when, by dint of page and line, He 'stabKshed Truth, or started Error, The Baptist found him far too deep; The Deist sighed with saving sorrow; And the lean Levite went to sleep, And dreamed of tasting pork to-morrow. His sermons never said or showed That Earth is foul, that Heaven is gracious, Without refreshment on the road Erom Jerome, or from Athanasius ; And sure a righteous zeal inspired The hand and head that penned and planned them, For all who understood, admired, And some who did not understand them. He wrote, too, in a quiet way. Small treatises and smaller verses ; And sage remarks on chalk and clay, And hints to noble lords and nurses ; True histories of last year's ghost, Lines to a ringlet or a turban ; And trifles for the Morning Post, And nothing for Sylvanus Urban. He did not think all miscliief fair. Although he had a knack of joking; He did not make liimself a bear, Although he had a taste for smoking: And when rehgious sects ran mad, He held, in spite of all his learning, That if a man's behef is bad, It will not be improved by burning. And he was kind, and loved to sit In the low hut or garnished cottage. £4 MISCELLANEOUS. And praise the farmer's homely wit, And share the widow's homelier pottage : At his approach complaint grew mild, And when his hand unbarred the shutter, The clammy lips of Fever smiled The welcome which they could not utter. He always had a tale for me Of Juhus Caesar or of Venus : From him I learned the rule of three, Cat's cradle, leap-frog, and Quas genus ; I used to singe his powdered wig. To steal the staff he put such trust in ; And make the puppy dance a jig When he began to quote Augustin. Alack the change ! in vain I look For haunts in which my boyhood trifled ; The level lawn, the trickling brook, The trees I climbed, the beds I rifled: The church is larger than before : You reach it by a carriage entry : It holds three hundred people more : And pews are fitted up for gentry. Sit ir the Vicar's seat : you '11 hear The doctrine of a gentle Johnian, Whose hand is white, whose tone is clear, Whose tone is very Ciceronian. Where is the old man laid ? — look down, And construe on the slab before you, Hio Jacet aULIELMUS BROWN, ViR Nulla non donandus laura. THE BACHELOR'S CANE-BOTTOMED CHAHl. W. M. THACKERAY. In tattered old slippers that toast at the bars. And a ragged old jacket perfumed with cigars, Away from the world and its toils and its cares, I 've a snug httle kingdom up four pair of stairs. MISCELLANEOUS. 55 To mount to this realm is a toil, to be sm-e, But the fire there is bright and the air rather pure ; And the view I behold on a sunshiny day Is grand through the chimney-pots over the way. This snug Kttle chamber is crammed in all nooks, With worthless old knicknacks and silly old books, And foohsh old odds and fooHsh old ends, Cracked bargains from brokers, cheap keepsakes from friends. Old armor, prints, pictures, pipes, china (all cracked), Old rickety tables, and chairs broken-backed ; A twopenny treasury, wondrous to see ; What matter ? 'tis pleasant to you, friend, and me. No better divan need the Sultan require. Than the creaking old sofa that basks by the fire; And 'tis wonderful, surely, what music you get From the rickety, ramshackle, wheezy spinet. That praying-rug came from a Turcoman's camp; By Tiber once twinkled that brazen old lamp ; A Mameluke fierce yonder dagger has drawn : 'Tis a murderous knife to toast muflins upon. Long, long through the hours, and the night, and the chimes^ Here we talk of old books, and old friends, and old times; As we sit in a fog made of rich Latakie This chamber is pleasant to you, friend, and me. But of all the cheap treasures that garnish my nest, There 's one that I love and I cherish the best ; For the finest of couches that 's padded with hair I never would change thee, my cane-bottomed chair. 'Tis a bandy-legged, high-shouldered, worm-eaten seat^ With a creaking old back, and twisted old feet ; But since the fair morning when Fanny sat there, I bless thee and love thee, old cane-bottomed chair. If chairs have but feehng in holding such charms, A thriU must have passed through your withered old arms I I looked, and I longed, and I wished in despair ; I wished myself turned to a cancj-bottouicd chair. 66 MISCELLANEOUS. It was but a moment she sat in this place, She 'd a scarf on her neck, and a smile on her face I A smile on her face, and a rose in her hair, And she sat there, and bloomed in my cane-bottomed chair. And so I have valued my chair ever since. Like the shrine of a saint, or the throne of a prince ; Saint Fanny, my patroness sweet I declare. The queen of my heart and my cane-bottomed chair. When the candles burn low, and the company 's gone, In the silence of night as I sit here alone — I sit here alone, but we yet are a pair — My Fanny I see in my cane-bottomed chair. She comes from the past and revisits my room ; She looks as she then did, aU beauty and bloom ; So smiling and tender, so fresh and so fair, And yonder she sits in my cane-bottomed chair. STANZAS TO PALE ALE. Oh ! I have loved thee fondly, ever Preferr'd thee to the choicest wine ; From thee my hps they could not sever By saying thou contain' dst strychnine. Did I beheve the slander ? Never I I held thee stiU to be divine. For me thy color hath a charm. Although 'tis true they call thee Pale ; And be thou cold when I am warm, As late I 've been — so high the scale Of Fahrenheit — and febrile harm Allay, refrigerating Ale 1 How sweet thou art ! — ^yet bitter, too And sparkling, like satiric fiin ; But how much better thee to brew, Than a conundrum or a pun. It Is, in every point of view. Must be aHow'd by every one. PUNCH, MISCELLANEOUS. 5*7 Refresh my heart and cool my throat, Light, airy child of malt and hops ! That dost not stuff, engross, and bloat The skin, the sides, the chin, the chops, And bm-st the buttons off the coat, Like stout and porter — fattening slops 1 ''CHILDREN MUST BE PAID FOR." PUNCE. Sweet is the sound of infant voice ; Young innocence is fiill of charms : There 's not a pleasure half so choice, As tossing up a cliild in arms. Babyhood is a blessed state, Fehcity expressly made for ; But still, on earth it is our fate. That even " Children must be paid for." If in an omnibus we ride, It is a beauteous sight to see. When fuU the vehicle inside, Age taking childhood on its knee. But in the dog-days' scorching heat. When a slight breath of air is pray'd for, Half suffocated in our seat. We feel that " Children must be paid for." There is about the sports of youth A charm that reaches every heart. Marbles or tops are games of truth. The bat plays no deceiver's part. But if we hear a sudden crash. No explanation need be stay'd for, We know there 's something gone to smash ; We feel that " Children must be paid for." How exquisite the infant's grace, When, clambering upon the knee, The cherub, smiling, Xakt'S Viis place Upon his mother's lap at tea ; 3* 58 MISCELLANEOUS. Perchance the beverage flows o'er, And leaves a stain there is no aid for, On carpet, dress, or chair. Once more We feel that " Children must be paid for.*' Presiding at the festive board, With many foces laughing round, Dull melancholy is ignored While mirth and jollity abound : We see our table amply spread Witli knives and forks a dozen laid for ; Then pause to think : — " How are they fed ?" Yes, " Cliildren must indeed be paid fori" THE MUSQUITO. WILLIAM CULLKN BRYAMT. ?a]r insect I that, with thread-like legs spread out. And blood-extracting bill, and filmy wing, Dost murmur, as thou slowly sail'st about, In pitiless ears full many a plaintive thing, And tell how little our large veins should bleed, Would we but yield them to tliy bitter need. Unwillingly, I own, and, what is worse, Full angTily men hearken to thy plaint ; Thou gettest many a brush and many a curse, For saying thou art gaunt, and starved, and faint : Even the old beggar, while he asks for food, Would kill thee, hapless stranger, if he could. I call thee stranger, for the to^vn, I ween, Has not the honor of so proud a birth — Thou com'st from Jersey meadows, fresh and green, The offspring of the gods, though born on earth ; For Titan was thy sire, and fair was she. The ocean-nymph that nm-sed thy infancy. Beneath the rushes was thy cradle swimg, And when, at length, thy gauzy wings grew strong. Abroad to gentle airs their folds were flung, Rose in the sky, and bore tlieo soft along ; MISCELLANEOUS. 59 The south wind breathed to waft thee on thy way, A.nd danced and shone beneath the billowy bay. Calm rose afar the city spires, and thence Came the deep murmur of its throng of men, And as its grateful odors met thy sense, They seemed the perfumes of tljy native fen. Fair lay its crowded streets, and at the sight Thy tiny song grew shriller with delight. At length thy pinion fluttered in Broadway — Ah, there were fairy steps, and white necks kissed By wanton airs, and eyes whose killing ray Shone through the snowy vails like stars through mist; And fresh as mom, on many a cheek and chin, Bloomed the bright blood through the transparent skin. Sure these were sights to tempt an anchorite ! What ! do I hear thy slender voice complain ? Thou wailest when I talk of beauty's hght. As if it brought the memory of pain : Thou art a wayward being — well — come near, And pour thy tale of sorrow in my ear. What say'st thou, slanderer ! — ^rouge makes thee sick ? And China Bloom at best is sorry food ? And Eowland's Kalydor, if laid on thick, Poisons the thirsty wretch that bores for blood ? Go ! 't was a just reward that met thy crime — But shun the sacrilege another time. That bloom was made to look at — not to touch ; To worship — not approach — that radiant white ; And well might sudden vengeance light on such As dared, Hke thee, most impiously to bite. Thou should'st have gazed at distance, and admired — Murmured thy admiration, and retired. Thou 'rt welcome to the town — but why come here To bleed a brother poet, gaunt like thee ? Alas ! the httle blood I have is dear, A nd tliin will be the banquet drawn from me. 60 MISCELLANEOUS. Look round — the pale-eyed sisters in my cell, Thy old acquaintance, Song and Famine, dwelL Try some plump alderman, and suck the blood Enriched by generous wine and costly meat ; On well-filled skins, sleek as thy native mud. Fix thy light pump, and press thy freckled feet :. Go to the men for whom, in ocean's halls. The oyster breeds, and the green turtle sprawls. There corks are drawn, and the red vintage flows, To fill the sweUing veins for thee, and now The ruddy cheek, and now the ruddier nose Shall tempt thee, as thou flittest round the bro'w ; And when the hour of sleep its quiet brings. No angry hand shall rise to brush thy wings. TO THE LADY IN THE CHEMISETTE WITH BLACK BUTTONS. N. P. WILLiaL I KNOW not who thou art, thou lovely one, Thine eyes were drooped, thy lips half sorrowful, Yet didst thou eloquently smile on me, Wliile handing up thy sixpence through the hole Of that o'er-freighted omnibus ! — ah, me ! — The world is full of meetings such as this ; A thrill — a voiceless challenge and reply, And sudden partings after — ^we may pass, And know not of each other's nearness now, Thou in the Knickerbocker line, and I Lone in the Waverley ! Oh ! life of pain ; And even should I pass where thou dost dwell — Nay, see thee in the basement taking tea — So cold is this inexorable world, I must glide on, I dare not feast mine eye, I dare not make articulate my love. Nor o'er the iron rails that hem thee in Venture to throw to thee my innocent card, Not imowing thy papa. MISCELLANEOUS. 61 Hast thou papa ? Is thy progenitor ahve, fair girl ? And what doth he for lucre ? Lo again I A shadow o'er the face of this fair dream 1 For thou may'st be as beautiful as Love Can make thee, and the ministering hands Of milliners, incapable of more, Be lifted at thy shapehness and air, And still 'twixt me and thee, invisibly, May rise a waU of adamant. My breath Upon my pale hp freezes as I name Manhattan's orient verge, and eke the west In its far down extremity. Thy sire May be the signer of a temperance pledge, And clad all decently may wall^ the earth — Nay — may be number'd with that blessed few Who never ask for discount — yet, alas ! If, homeward wending from his daily cares, He go by Murphy's Line, thence eastward tending—- Or westward from the Line of Kipp & Brown — My vision is departed ! Harshly falls The doom upon the ear, '• She 's not genteel!" And pitiless is woman who doth keep Of " good society" the golden key ! And gentlemen are bound, as are the stars, To stoop not after rising ! • But farewell, And I shall look for thee in streets where dwell The passengers by Broadway Lines alone ! And if my dreams be true, and thou, indeed, Art only not more lovely than genteel — Then, lady of the snow-wliite chemisette, The heart which vent'rously cross'd o'er to thee Upon that bridge of sixpence, may remain — And, with up-town devotedness and truth, My love shall hover round thee ! 62 MISCELLANEOUS. COME OUT, LOVE. N. P. WILLIS. Argument. — The poet starts from the Bowling Green to take his sweetheart up to Thompson's for an ice, or (if she is inclined for more) ices. He confines hie muse to matters wliich any every-day man and young woman may see in taking the same pi omenade for the same innocent refreshment. Come out, love — the night is enchanting I The moon hangs just over Broadway ; The stars .are all lighted and panting — (Hot weather up there, I dare say !) 'Tis seldom that " coolness" entices, And love is no better for chilling — But come up to Thompson's for ices, And cool your warm heart for a shilling I What perfume comes balmily o'er us ? Mint juleps from City Hotel ! A loafer is smoking before us — (A nasty cigar, by the smell !) Woman ! thou secret past knowing I Like lilacs that grow by the wall. You breathe every air that is going. Yet gather but sweetness from all 1 On, on ! by St. Paul's, and the Astor I EeUgion seems very ill-plann'd I For one day we hst to the pastor. For six days we list to the band 1 The sermon may dwell on the future. The organ your pulses may calm — When — pest ! — that remember'd cachucha Upsets botJh the sermon and psalm 1 Oh, pity the love that must utter While goes a swift, omnibus by I (Though sweet is / scream* when the flutter Of fejis shows thermometers high) — But if what I bawl, or I mutter, FaUs into your ear but to die. Oh, the dew that falls into the gutter Is not more unhappy than I ! Query — Should this be Ice cream, or / scream ? — Printer^ a Devil, MISCELLANEOUS. 63 THE WHITE CHIP HAT. N. P. WILLIS. I pass'd her one day in a hurry, When late for the Post with a letter — I think near the corner of Murray — And up rose my heart as I met her 1 I ne'er saw a parasol handled So like to a duchess's doing — I ne'er saw a slighter foot sandal'd, Or so fit to exhale in the shoeing — Lovely thing ! Surprising ! — one woman can dish us So many rare sweets up together I Tournure absolutely delicious — Chip hat without flower or feather — Well-gloved and enchantingly boddiced, Her waist hke the cup of a lily — And an air, that, while daintily modesl^ Repell'd both the saucy and silly — Quite the thing I For such a rare wonder you '11 say, sir. There 's reason in tearing one's tether — And, to see her again in Broadway, sir, Who would not be lavish of leather ! I met her again, and as you know I 'm sage as old Voltaire at Ferney — But I said a bad word — for my Juno Look'd sweet on a sneaking attorney — Horrid thing ! Away flies the dream I had nourish' d — My castles hke mockeiy fall, sir ! And, now, the fine airs that she flourish'd Seem varnish and crockery all, sir ! The bright cup which angels might handle Turns earthy when finger'd by asses — And the star that "swaps" hght with a candle, Thenceforth for a pennyworth passes ! — Not the thing I 64 . MISCELLANEOUS. YOU KNOW IF IT WAS YOU. N. P. WILLIS. As the chill' d robin, bound to Florida Upon a morn of autumn, crosses flying The air-track of a snipe most passing fair — Yet colder in her blood than she is fair — And as that robin hngers on the wing, And feels the snipe's flight in the eddying air, And loves her for her coldness not the less — But fain would win her to that warmer sky Where love Hes waking with the fragrant stars — Lo I — a langTiisher for sunnier chmes, Where fruit, leaf, blossom, on the trees forever Image the tropic deathlessness of love — Have met, and long'd to win thee, fairest lady, To a more genial clime than cold Broadway 1 Tranquil and effortless thou glidest on. As doth the swan upon the yielding water, And with a cheek hke alabaster cold ! But as thou didst divide the amorous air Just opposite the Astor, and didst lift That vail of languid lashes to look in At Leary's tempting window — ^lady ! then My heart sprang in beneath that fringed vail, Like an adventurous bird that would escape To some warm chamber from the outer cold ! And there would I dehghtedly remain. And close that fringed window with a kiss. And in the warm sweet chamber of thy breast, Be prisoner forever ! THE DECLARATION. N. P. WILLia. 'T WAS late, and the gay company was gone, And hght lay soft on the deserted room From alabaster vases, and a scent Of orange-leaves, and sweet verbena came Through the unshutter' d window on the air. MISCELLANEOnS. 65 And the rich pictures with their dark old tints Hung Hke a twilight landscape, and all things Seem'd hush'd into a slumber. Isabel, The dark-eyed, spiritual Isabel Was leaning on her harp, and I had stay'd To whisper what I could not when the crowd Hung on her look like worshipers. I knelt, And with the fervor of a lip unused To the cool breath of reason, told my love. There was no answer, and I took the hand That rested on the strings, and press'd a kiss Upon it unforbidden — and again Besought her, that this silent evidence That I was not indifferent to her heart, Might have the seal of one sweet syllable. I kiss'd the small white fingers as I spoke, And she withdrew them gently, and upraised Her forehead from its resting-place, and look'd Earnestly on me — She had been asleep I , LOVE IN A COTTAGE. N. P. They may talk of love in a cottage, And bowers of trellised vine — Of nature bewitchingly simple, And mOkmaids half divine ; They may talk of the pleasure of sleeping In the shade of a spreading tree. And a walk in the fields at morning, By the side of a footstep fi'ee I But give me a sly flirtation By the fight of a chandelier — With music to play in the pauses, And nobody very near ; Or a seat on a silken sofa, With a glass of pure old wine, And mamma too blind to discover The small white hand in mine. 66 MISCELLANEOUS. Your love in a cottage is hungry, Your vine is a nest for flies — Your milkmaid sliocks the Graces, And simplicity talks of pies I You lie down to your shady slumber And wake with a bug in your ear, And your damsel that walks in the morning Is shod like a mountaineer. True love is at home on a carpet, And mightily likes his ease — And true love has an eye for a dinner, And starves beneath shady trees. His wing is the fan of a lady, His foot's an invisible thing, And his arrow is tipp'd with a jewel, And shot from a silver string. TO HELEN IN A HUFF. N. P. ynLLO, Nay, lady, one frown is enough In a life as soon over as this — And though minutes seem long in a huff. They 're minutes 'tis pity to miss 1 The smiles you imprison so lightly Are reckon' d, Uke days in eclipse ; And though you may smile again brightly. You 've lost so much hght from your lips I Pray, lady, smile I The cup that is longest untasted May be with our bliss running o'er. And, love when we will, we have wasted An age in not loving before ! Perchance Cupid 's forging a fetter To tie us together some day, And, just for the chance, we had better Be laying up love, I should say 1 Nay, lady, smile 1 MISCELLANEOUS. 67 THE HEIGHT OF THE RIDICULOUS. OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. I WROTE some lines, once on a time, In wondrous merry mood, And thought, as usual, men would say They were exceeding good. They were so queer, so very queer, I laughed as I would die ; Albeit, in the general way, A sober man am I. I caUed my servant, and he came ; How kind it was of him, To mind a slender man like me, He of the mighty limb ! " These to the printer," I exclaimedj And, in my humorous way, I added (as a trifling jest)^ " There '11 be the devil to pay." He took the paper, and I watched, And saw him peep within ; At the first hne he read, his face Was aU upon the grin. He read the next ; the gi'in grew broad, And shot from ear to ear ; He read the third ; a chuckling noise I now began to hear. The fourth ; he broke into a roar ; The fifth ; his waistband split ; The sixth ; he burst five buttons ofl^ And tumbled in a fit. Ten days and nights, with sleepless eye, I watched that wretched man, And since, I never dare to write As funny as I can. 68 MISCELLANEOUS. THE BRIEFLESS BARRISTER. A BALLAD. JOHN G. SAXB. An Attorney was taking a turn, In shabby habiliments drest ; His coat it was shockingly worn, And the rust had invested his vest. His breeches had suffered a breach, His linen and worsted were worse ; He had scarce a whole crown in his hat, And not half-a-crown in liis purse. And thus as he wandered along, A cheerless and comfortless elf, He sought for rehef in a song, Or complainingly talked to himself: " Unfortunate man that I am ! I've never a client but grief; The case is, I 've no case at aU, And in brief, I 've ne'er had a brief 1 " I 've waited and waited in vain, Expecting an ' opening' to find. Where an honest young lawyer might gain Some reward for the toil of his mind. " 'Tis not that I 'm wanting in law, Or lack an intelligent face. That others have cases to plead, While I have to plead for a case. " 0, how can a modest young man E'er hope for the smallest progression— The profession's already so full Of lawyers so full of profession !" While thus he was strolling around, His eye accidentally fell On a very deep hole in the ^ound. And he sighed to himself, " It is well !" MISCELLANEOUS. 69 To curb his emotions, he sat On the curb-stone the space of a minute, Then cried, " Here 's an opening at last!" And in less than a jiflfy was in it ! Next morning twelve citizens came ('Twas the coroner bade them attend), To the end that it might be determined How the man had determined his end ! " The man was a lawyer, I hear," Quoth the foreman who sat on the corse ; " A lawyer ? Alas !" said another, " Undoubtedly he died of remorse !" A third said, " He knew the deceased, An attorney well versed in the laws. And as to the cause of his death, 'Twas no doubt from the want of a cause." The jury decided at length. After solemnly weighiug the matter, " That the la^vyer was drown(ied, because He could not keep his head above water 1" SONNET TO A CLAM. JOHN G. SAXi Dam tacent clamant. Inglorious friend ! most confident I am Thy life is one of very Httle ease ; Albeit men mock thee with their similes And prate of being " happy as a clam 1" What though thy shell protects thy fragile head From the sharp baDLffs of the briny sea ? Thy valves are, sure, no safety-valves to thee, While rakes are free to desecrate thy bed. And bear thee off — as foemen take their spoil — Far from thy friends and family to roam ; Forced, hke a Hessian, from thy native home, To meet destruction in a foreign broil I Though thou art tender, yet thy humble bard Declares, clam 1 thy case is shocking hard I 70 MISCELLANEOUS. VENUS OF THE NEEDLE. WILLIAM ALLINGHAMt Martanne, you pretty girl, Intent on silky labor, Of sempstresses the pink and pearl, Excuse a peeping neighbor I Those eyes, forever drooping, give The long brown lashes rarely ; But violets in the shadows live, — For once unvail them faMy. Hast thou not lent that flounce enough Of looks so long and earnest ? Lo, here 's more " penetrable stuff," To which thou never turnest. Ye graceful fingers, deftly sped I How slender, and how nimble 1 might I wind their skeins of thread, Or but pick up their thimble ! How blest the youth whom love shall bring; And happy stars embolden. To change the dome into a ring, The silver into golden 1 Who '11 steal some morning to her side To take her finger's measure. While Maryanne pretends to chide, And blushes deep with pleasure. Who '11 watch her sew her wedding-gown, WeU conscious that it is hers, Who 'U glean a tress, without a firown, With those so ready scissors. Who '11 taste those ripenings of the south, The fragrant and deUcious — Don't put the pins into your mouth, Maryanne, my precious 1 MISCELLANEOUS. *!! I almost wish it were my trust To teach how shocking that is; I wish I had not, as I must, To quit this tempting lattice. Sure aim takes Cupid, fluttering foe, Across a street so narrow ; A thread of silk to string his bow, A needle for his arrow I N A R R A T I y E . NARRATIVE TAKE THY OLD CLOAK ABOUT THEE. [old ballad, quoted by SHAKSPEARE, in OTHELLO.] PERCY RELIQUES. This winters weather itt waxeth cold, And frost doth freese on every hill. And Boreas blowes his blasts soe bold, That all our catteU are like to spOl ; Bell, my wiffe, who loves noe strife, Shee sayd unto me quietlye, Rise up, and save cow Cumbockes liffe, Man, put thine old cloake about thee. He. Bell, why dost thou flyte and scorne ? Thou kenst my cloak is very thin : Itt is soe bare and overworne A cricke he theron cannot renn : Then He no longer borrowe nor lend, Por once lie new appareld bee. To-morrow lie to towne and spend, For lie have a new cloake about mee. She. Cow Crumbocke is a very good cowe, Shee ha beene alwayes true to the payle, She has helpt us to butter and cheese, I trow And other things shee will not fayle ; 1 wold be loth to see her pine, Good husband councell take of mee. It is not for us to go soe fine, Man, take thine old cloake about thee. 76 N AKK ATI VE. He. My cloake it was a very good cloake Itt hath been alwayes true to the weare, But now it is not worth a groat ; I have had it four and forty yeere ; Sometime itt was of cloth in graine, 'Tis now but a sigh clout as you may see, It will neither hold out winde nor raine ; And lie have a new cloake about mee. She. It is four and fortye yeeres agoe Since the one of us the other did ken, And we have had betwixt us towe Of children either nine or ten ; Wee have brought them up to women and men ; In the feare of Grod I trow they bee ; And why wilt thou thyselfe misken ? Man, take thine old cloake about thee. He. O Bell, my wiffe, why dost thou floute I Now is nowe, and then was then : Seeke now all the world throughout, Thou kenst not clownes from gentlemen. They are cladd in blacke, greene, yellowe, or gray, Soe far above their owne degree : Once in my life He doe as they, For He have a new cloake about mee. She. King Stephen was a worthy peere, His breeches cost him but a crowne, He held them sixpence all too deere ; Therefore he calld the taylor Lowne. He was a wight of liigh renowne, And thouse but of a low degree : Itt's pride that putts this countrye downe, Man, take thine old cloake about thee. NARRATIVE. 77 He. " Bell, my wife, she loves not strife, Yet she will lead me if she can ; And oft, to live a quiet life, I am forced to yield, though Ime good-man ;" Itt 's not for a man with a woman to threape, Unlesse he first gave oer the plea : As wee began wee now will leave, And He take mine old cloake about mee. KING JOHN AND THE ABBOT. [an old ENGLISH BALLAD LONG VERY POPULAR.] PERCY RELIQUES An ancient story lie tell you anon Of a notable prince, that was called King John ; And he ruled England with maine and with might, For he did gi-eat wrong, and mauitein'd Httle right And He tell you a story, a story so merrye, Concerning the Abbot of Canterburye ; How for his house-keeping, and high renowne, They rode poste for him to fair London towne. An hundred men, the king did heare say, The abbot kept in his house every day ; And fifty golde chaynes, without any doubt. In velvet coates waited the abbot about. How now, father abbot, I heare it of thee, Thou keepest a farre better house than mee, And for thy house-keeping and high renowne, I feare thou work'st treason against my crown. My liege, quo' the abbot, I would it were knowne, I never spend nothing but what is my owne ; And I trust your grace will doe me no deere For spending of my owne true-gotten geere. 78 NARRATIVE. Yes, yes, father abbot, thy fault it is highe, And now for the same thou needest must dye ; For except thou canst answer me questions three, Thy head shall be smitten from thy bodie. And first, quo' the king, when I 'm in this stead, With my crowne of golde so faire on my head, Among all my hege-men, so noble of birthe. Thou must tell me to one penny what I am worthe. Secondlye, tell me, without any doubt. How soone I may ride the whole world about. And at the tliii'd question thou mu8t not shrink, But tell me here truly what I do think. 0, these are hard questions for my shallow witt, Nor I cannot answer your grace as yet ; But if you will give me but three weekes space, He do my endeavour to answer your graoo. Now three weeks space to thee will I give, And that is the longest time thou hast to Hve; For if thou dost not answer my questions three, Thy lands and thy hvings are forfeit to mee. Away rode the abbot, all sad at that word. And he rode to Cambridge and Oxenford ; But never a doctor there was so wise, That could with his learning an answer devise. Then home rode the abbot, of comfort so cold. And he mett his shepheard agoing to fold : How now, my lord abbot, you are welcome home What newes do you bring us from good King John ? Sad newes, sad newes, shephea-rd, I must give : That I have but three days more to live ; For if I do not answer him questions three. My head will be smitten from my bodis. The first is to tell him there in that stead, With his crowne of golde so fair on his hea4. A m ong all his Hege-men so noble of birth. To within one penny of what he is worth. NARRATIVE. 79 The seconde, to tell him, without any doubt, How soone he may ride this whole world about : And at the third question I must not shrinke, But tell him there truly what he does thinke. Now cheare up, sire abbot, did you never hear yet, That a fool he may learne a wise man witt ? Lend me horse, and serving-men, and your apparel, And I 'U ride to London to answere your quarrel Nay frowne not, if it hath bin told unto mee, I am like your lordship, as ever may bee : And if you will but lend me your gowne, There is none shall knowe us in fair London towne Now horses and serving-men thou shalt have. With sumptuous array most gallant and brave ; With crozier, and miter, and rochet, and cope, Fit to appeare 'fore our fader the pope. Now welcome, sire abbot, the king he did say, 'Tis well thou 'rt come back to keepe thy day ; For and if thou canst answer my questions three, Thy life and thy Kving both saved shall bee. And first, when thou seest me here in this stead, With my crown of golde so fair on my head. Among all my hege-men so noble of birthe. Tell me to one penny what I am worth. For thirty pence our Saivour was sold Among the false Jewes, as I have bin told : And twenty-nine is the worth of thee. For I thinke, thou art one penny worser than hee. The king he laughed, and swore by St. Bittel, I did not think I had been worth so Httel ! — ^Now secondly tell me, without any doubt. How soone I may ride this whole world about. You must rise with the sun, and ride with the same, Until the next morning he riseth againe ; And then your grace need not make any doubt But in twenty-four hours you 'U ride it about 80 NARRATIVE. The king he laughed, and swore by St. Jone, I did not think it could be gone so soone I — ^Now from the third question thou must not shrmke, But teU me here truly what I do thinke. Yea, that shall I do, and make your grace merry : You thinke I 'm the abbot of Canterbury ; But I 'm his poor shepheard, as plain you may see, That am come to beg pardon for him and for mee. The king he laughed, and swore by the masse, He make thee lord abbot this day in his place ! Now naye, my hege, be not in such speede, For alacke I can neither write, ne reade. Four nobles a week, then, I will give thee, For this merry jest thou hast showne unto mee : And teR the old abbot, when thou comest home. Thou hast brought him a pardon from good King John. THE BAFFLED KNIGHT, OR LADY'S POLICY [a very favorite ancient ballad.] perot relique3. There- was a knight was drunk with wine, A riding along the way, sir; And there he met with a lady fine, Among the cocks of hay, sir. Shall you and I, lady faire, Among the grass lye down-a ; And I will have a special care. Of rumphng of your gowne-a. Upon the grass there is a dewe. Will spoil my damask gowne, sir : My gowne and kirtle they are newe, And cost me many a crowne, sir. JSTARRATIVE. 81 I have a cloak of scarlet red, Upon the ground I '11 throwe it ; Then, lady faire, come lay thy head ; . We 'U play, and none shall knowe it. O yonder stands my steed so free Among the cocks of hay, sir, And if the pinner should chance to see, He '11 take my steed away, sir. Upon my finger I have a ring, Its made of finest gold-a, And, lady, it thy steed shall bring Out of the pinner's fold-a. O go with me to my father's hall ; Fair chambers there are three, sir : And you shall have the best of all, And I 'U your chamberlaine bee, sir. He mounted himself on his steed so tall, And her on her dapple gray, sir : And there they rode to her father's hall, Fast pricking along the way, sir. To her father's hall they arrived strait ; 'T was moated round about-a ; {She sHpped herself within the gate, And lockt the knight without-a. Here is a silver penny to spend. And take it for your pain, sir ; And two of my father's men I 'U send To wait on you back again, sir. He from his scabbard drew his brand, And wiped it upon his sleeve-a I And cursed, he said, be every man, That will a maid beheve-a ! She drew a bodkin from her haire. And wip'd it upon her gown-a ; And curs' d be every maiden faire. That wiU with men lye down-al 82 NARRATIVE. A herb there is, that lowly grows, And some do call it rue, sir : The smallest dunghill cock that crowa, Would make a capon of you, sir. A flower there is, that shineth bright, Some call it mary-gold-a : He that wold not when he mighlj He shaU not when he wold-a. The knight was riding another day, With cloak, and hat, and feather: He met again with that lady gay, Who was angling in the river. Now, lady faire, I've met with you, You shall no more escape me ; Remember, how not long agoe You falsely did intrap me. He from his saddle down did Hght, In all his riche attyer ; And cryed, As I 'm a noble knight, I do thy charms admyer. He took the lady by the hand, Who seemingly consented ; And would no more disputing stand : She had a plot invented. Looke yonder, good sir knight, I pray, Methinks I now discover A riding upon liis dapple gray, My former constant lover. On tip-toe peering stood the knight, Fast by the rivers brink-a ; The lady pusht with all her might : Sir knight, now swim or sink-a. O'er head and ears he plunged in, The bottom faire he sounded ; Then rising up, he cried amain, Help, helpe, or else I 'm drownded ! NARRATIVE. BH Now, fare-you-well, sir knight, adieu I You see what comes of fooling : That is the fittest place for you ; Your courage wanted cooling. Ere many days, in her fathers park, Just at the close of eve-a, Again she met with her angry sparke ; Wliich made this lady grieve-a. False lady, here thou 'rt in my powre, And no one now can hear thee : And thou shalt sorely rue the hour That e'er thou dar'dst to jeer me. I pray, sir knight, be not so warm With a young silly maid-a : I vow and swear I thought no harm, 'Twas a gentle jest I piayd-a. A gentle jest, in soothe he cry'd, To tumble me in and leave mel What if I had in the river dy'd ? That fetch will not deceive me. Once more I '11 pardon thee this day, Tho' injur'd out of measure ; But thou prepare without delay To yield thee to my pleasure. WeU then, if I must grant your suit, Yet think of youT boots and spurs, sir : Let me pull oflf both spur and boot, Or else you cannot stir, sir. He set him down upon the grass, And' begg'd her kind assistance : Now, smihng, thought this lovely lass, I 'U make you keep your distance. Then pulling off his boots half-way ; Sir knight, now I 'm your betters : You shall not make of me your prey ; Sit there like a knave in fetters. 84 NAERATIVE. The knight, when she had served him soe, He fretted, fum'd, and grumbled : For he could neither stand nor goe, But like a cripple tumbled. Farewell, sir knight, the clock strikes ten, Yet do not move nor stir, sir : I '11 send you my father's serving men, To puU off your boots and spurs, sir. This merry jest you must excuse, You are but a stingless nettle : You 'd never have stood for boots or shoes, Had you been a man of mettle. AJl night in grievous rage he lay, Kolhng upon the plain-a ; Next morning a shepherd past that way, Who set him right again-a. Then mounting upon his steed so tall, By hill and dale he swore-a : I '11 ride at once to her father's hall ; She shall escape no more~a. I '11 take her father by the beard, I '11 challenge all her kindred ; Each dastard soul shall stand affeard ; My wrath shall no more be hindred. He rode unto her father's house, Which every side was moated : The lady heard his furious vows. And all his vengeance noted. Thought shee, sir knight, to quench ^our rage, Once more I will endeavour : This water shall your fury 'swage, Or else it shall bum for ever. Then faining penitence and feare, She did invite a parley : Sir knight, if you '11 forgive me heare, Henceforth I 'U love you dearly. NARRATIVE. 85 My father he is now from home, And I am all alone, sir : Therefore across the water come, And I am all your own, sir. False maid, thou canst no more deceive ; I scorn the treacherous bait-a ; If thou would'st have me thee beheve, Now open me the gate-a. The bridge is dra^vn, the gate is barr'd, My father he has the keys, sir ; But I have for my love prepar'd A shorter way, and easier. Over the moate I 've laid a plank FuU seventeen feet in measure, Then step across to the other bank, And there we 'U take our pleasure. These words she had no sooner spoke, But straight he came tripping over : The plank was saw'd, it snapping broke. And sous'd the unhappy lover. TRUTH AND FALSEHOOD. A TALE. MATTHEW PRIOR Once on a time, m sunshine weather. Falsehood and Truth walk'd out together, The neighboring woods and lawns to view. As opposites will sometimes do. Through many a blooming mead they passed, And at a brook arriv'd at last. The purhng stream, the margin green, With flowers bedeck'd, a vernal scene, Invited each itinerant maid. To rest a while beneath the shade. Under a spreading beach they sat, And pass'd the time with female chat ; 86 NARRATIVE. Whilst each her character maintain'd ; One spoke her thoughts, the other feign'd. At length, quoth Falsehood, sister Truth (For so she call'd her from her youth), What if, to shun yon sultry beam. We bathe in this delightful stream ; The bottom smooth, the water clear, And there 's no prying shepherd near ?- - With all my heart, the nymph rephed, And threw her snowy robes aside, Stript herself naked to the skin. And with a spring leapt headlong in. Falsehood more leisurely undrest, And, laying by her tawdry vest. Trick' d herself out in Truth's array. And 'cross the meadows tript away. From this curst hour, the fraudfiil dame Of sacred Truth usurps the name, And, with a vile, perfidious mind, Eoams far and near, to cheat mankind ; False sighs suborns, and artful tears, And starts with vain pretended fears ; In visits, still appears most wise. And rolls at church her saint-hke eyes ; Talks very much, plays idle tricks. While rising stock* her conscience pricks ; When being, poor thing, extremely gravel'd. The secrets op'd, and all unravel' d. But on she will, and secrets tell Of John and Joan, and Ned and Nell, Eeviling every one she knows, As fancy leads, beneath the rose. Her tongue, so voluble and kind, It always runs before her mind ; As times do serve, she slyly pleads, And copious tears still show her needs. With promises as thick as weeds — Speaks pro and con., is wondrous civil, To-day a saint, to-morrow devil. Poor Truth she stript, as has been said, And naked left the lovely maid, * South Sea, 1720. NARRATIVE. 87 Who, scorning from her cause to wince, Has gone stark-naked ever since ; And ever naked will appear, Belov'd by all who Truth revere. FLATTERY. A FABLE. SIR CHARLES HANBURY WILLIAMa Fanny, beware of flattery, Your sex's much-lov'd enemy ; For other foes we are prepar'd, And Nature puts us on our guard : In that alone such charms are found. We court the dart, we nurse the hand ; And this, my child, an ^sop's Fable Will prove much better than I 'm able. A young vain female Crow, Had perch'd upon a pine tree's bough, And sitting there at ease. Was going to indulge her" taste, In a most delicious feast. Consisting of a sHce of cheese. A sharp-set Fox (a wily creature) Pass'd by that way In search of prey ; When to his nose the smell of cheese, Came in a gentle western breeze ; No Welchman knew, or lov'd it better; He bless' d th' auspicious wind. And strait look'd round to find. What might his hungry stomach fill. And quickly spied the Crow, Upon a lofty bough, Holdmg the tempting prize within her bill But she was perch'd too high, And Reynard could not fly : 88 NAiiEATIVE. She chose the tallest tree in all the wood, What then could bring her down ? Or make the prize his own ? Nothing but fiatt'ry could. He soon the silence broke, And thus ingenious hunger spoke : " Oh, lovely bird. Whose glossy plumage oft has stirr'd The envy of the grove ; Thy form was Nature's pleasing care, So bright a bloom, so soft an air, AH that behold must love. But, if to suit a form like thine, Thy voice be as divine ; If both in these together meet. The feather' d race must own Of all their tribe there's none, Of form so fair, of voice so sweet. Who 'U then regard the hnnet's note, Or heed the lark's melodious throat ? What pensive lovers then shall dwell With raptures on their Philomel ? The goldfinch shall his plumage hide. The swan abate her stately pride, And Juno's bird no more display His various glories to the sunny day : Then grant thy SuppUant's prayer. And bless my longing ear With notes that I would die to hear I" Flattery prevail'd, the Crow behev'd The tale, and was with joy deceiv'd ; In haste to show her want of skill, She open'd wide her bill : She scream'd as if the de'el was in her Her vanity became so strong That, wrapt in her own frightful song, She quite forgot, and di'opt her dinner : The morsel fell quick by the place Where Reynard lay, Who seized the prey And eat it without saying grace. NAERA.TIVE. 89 He, sneezing, cried " The day's my own, My end's obtain'd, The prize is gain'd, And now I '11 change my note. Vain, fooHsh, cheated Crow, Lend your attention now, A truth or two I '11 tell you ! For, since I 've fill'd my belly. Of course my flatt'ry's done : Think you I took such pains, And spoke so well only to hear you croak ? No, 't was the luscious bait. And a keen appetite to eat. That first inspii-'d, and carried on the cheat 'T was hunger furnish'd hands and matter, Flatterers must live by those they flatter ; But weep not, Crow ; a tongue like mine Might turn an abler head than thine ; And though reflection may displease, If wisely you apply your thought, To learn the lesson I have taught, Experience, sure, is cheaply bought, And richly worth a shoe of cheese." THE PIG AND MAGPIE. PETER PINDAR. Cocking his taO, a saucy prig, A Magpie hopped upon a Pig, To pull some ./dir, forsooth, to line his nest ; And with such ease began the hair attack, As thinking the fee simple of the back Was by himself, and not the Pig, possessed. The Boar looked up as thunder black to Mag, Who, squinting down on him. like an arch wag, Informed Mynheer some bristles must be torn • Then briskly went to work, not nicely culling : Got a good handsome beakful by good pulling, And flew, without a " Thank ye" to his thorn. 90 NARRATIVE. The Pig set up a dismal yelling : Followed the robber to liis dwelling, Who hke a fool had built it 'midst a bramble : In manfully he sallied, full of might, Determined to obtain his right, And 'midst the bushes now began to scrambl He drove the Magpie, tore his nest to rags, And, happy on the downfall^ poured liis brags: But ere he from the brambles came, alack 1 His ears and eyes were miserably torn, His bleeding liide in such a plight forlorn. He could not count ten hairs upon his back. ADVICE TO YOUNG WOMEN; OR, THE ROSE AND STRAWBERRY, PETER PINDAR. Young women ! don't be fond of killing, Too well I know your hearts unwilhng To hide beneath the vail a charm — Too pleased a sparkling eye to roU, And with a neck to thrill the soul Of every swain with love's alarm. Yet, yet, if prudence be not near Its snow may melt into a tear. The dimple smile, and poutuig Hp, Where httle Cupids nectar sip, Are very pretty lures I own : But, ah ! if prudence be not nigh, Those lips where all the Cupids lie, May give a passage to a groan. A Rose, in aU the pride of bloom, Flinging around her rich perfume Her form to public notice pushing, Amid the summer's golden glow • Peeped on a Strawberry below, Beneath a leaf, in secret blushing. NARRATIVE. 91 ^ Miss Strawberry," exclaimed the Rose, " What 's beauty that no mortal knows ? What is a charm, if never seen ? You really are a pretty creature : Then wherefore hide each blooming feature ? Come up, and show your modest mien." *' Miss Rose," the Strawberry replied, " I never did possess a pride That wished to dash the pubhc eye : Indeed, I own that I 'm afraid — I think there 's safety in the shade, Ambition causes many a sigh." " G-o, simple child," the Rose rejoined, " See how I wanton in the wind : I feel no danger's dread alarms : And then observe the god of day. How amorous with his golden ray. To pay his visits to my charms !" No sooner said, but with a scream She started from her favorite theme — A clown had on her fixed his pat. In vain she screeched — Hob did but smile ; Rubbed ^vith her leaves liis nose awhile, Then bluntly stuck her in his hat. ECONOMY. PETER PINDAR Economy's a very useful broom ; Yet should not ceaseless hunt about the room To catch each straggling pin to make a plumb : Too oft Economy's an iron vice. That squeezes even the Httle guts of mice. That peep with fearful eyes, and ask a crumb. Proper Economy's a comely thing — Q-ood in a subject — better in a king ; 92 NAERATIVE. Yet pushed too far, it dulls each finer feeling — Most easily inclined to make folks mean ; Inclines them too, to villainy to lean, To over-reaching, perjury, and stealing. Even when the heart should only think of grief It creeps into the bosom Uke a thief. And swallows up th' affections all so mild — Witness the Jewess, and her only child : — THE JEWESS AND HER SON Poor Mistress Levi had a luckless son, Who, rushing to obtain the foremost seat, In imitation of th' ambitious great, High from the gallery, ere the play begun, He fell all plump into the pit. Dead in a minute as a nit : In short, he broke his pretty Hebrew neck ; Indeed and very dreadful was the wreck ! The mother was distracted, raving, wild — Shrieked, tore her hair, embraced and kissed her child- Afflicted every heart with grief around : Soon as the shower of tears was somewhat past, And moderately calm th' hysteric blast. She cast about her eyes in thought profound * And being with a saving knowledge blessed. She thus the playhouse manager addressed: " Sher, I 'm de moder of de poor Chew lad, Dat meet mishfartin here so bad — Sher, I muss haf de shilling back, you know, Ass Moses haf not see de show." But as for Avarice, 'tis the very devU ; The fount, alas ! of every evil : The cancer of the heart — the worst of ills : Wherever sown, luxuriantly it thrives ; No flower of virtue near it Uves : Like aconite, where'er it spreads, it kills. JS-ARRATIVE. In every soil behold tlie poison spring I Can taint the beggar, and infect the king. The mighty Marlborough pilfered cloth and bread So says that gentle satirist Squire Pope ; And Peterborough's Earl upon this head, Affords us httle room to hope, That what the Twitnam bard avowed, Might not be readily allowed. THE COUNTRY LASSES. PETER PINDAR. Peter lasheth the Ladies. — He turneth Story-teller. — Peter grieveth. Although the ladies with such beauty blaze, They very frequently my passion raise — Their charms compensate, scarce, their want of tast». Passing amidst the J]xliibition crowd, I heard some damsels fashionably loud ; And thus I give the dialogue that pass'd. " Oh ! the dear man !" cried one, '* look ! here's a bonnet I He shall paint me — ^I am determin'd on it — Lord ! cousin, see ! how beautiful the gown ! What charming colors ! here 's fine lace, here 's gauze 1 What pretty sprigs the fellow draws ! Lord, cousin ! he's the cleverest man in townl" " Ay, cousin," cried a second, " very true — And here, here's charming green, and red, and blue 1 There 's a complexion beats the rouge of Warren I See those red lips ; oh, la ! they seem so nice ! What rosy cheeks then, cousin, to entice ! — Compar'd to this, all other heads are carrion. Cousin, this Umner quickly will be seen. Painting the Princess Royal, and the Queen : Pray, don't you think as I do, Coz ? But we '11 be painted first that's poz'' 94 NAEEATIVE. Such was tlie very pretty conversation That pass'd between the pretty misses, While unobserv'd, the glory of our nation^ Close by them hung Sir Joshua's matchless pieces Works ! that a Titian's hand could form alone — Works ! that a Eeubens had been proud to own. Permit me, ladies, now to lay before ye What lately happen'd — therefore a true story :— A STORY. Walking one afternoon along the Strand, My wond'ring eyes did suddenly expand Upon a pretty leash of country lasses. " Heav'ns ! my dear beauteous angels, how d'ye do ? Upon my soul I 'm monstrous glad to see ye." " Swinge ! Peter, we are glad to meet with you / We're just to London come — well, pray how be ye. " We're just a going, while 'tis Hght, To see St. Paul's before 'tis dark. Lord ! come, for once, be so pohte, And condescend to be our spark." " With all my heart, my angels." — On we walk'd, And much of London — much of Cornwall talk'd. Now did I hug myself to think How much that glorious structure would surprise , How from its awful grandeur they would shrink With open mouths, and marv'hng eyes ! As near to Ludgate-Hill we drew, St. Paul's just opening on our view ; Behold, my lovely strangers, one and all, G-ave, all at once, a diabolic squawl. As if they had been tumbled on the stones, And some confounded cart had crush'd their bones. After well fright'ning people with their cries, And sticking to a ribbon-shop their eyes, NARRATIVE. 95 They all rush'd in, with sounds enough to stun, And clattering all together, thus begun : — " Swinge ! here are colors then, to please I Delightful things, I vow to heav'n ! Why ! not to see such things as these, We never should have been forgiv'n. " Here, here, are clever tilings — good Lord I And, sister, here, upon my word — Here, here ! — look ! here are beauties to dehght : Why! how a body's heels might dance Along from Launceston to Penzance, Before that one might meet with such a sight !" "Come, ladies, 'twill be dark," cried I — "I fear. Pray let us view St. Paul's, it is so near" — " Lord ! Peter," cried the girls, " don't mind St. Paul I Sure ! you're a most incurious soul — Why — ^we can see the church another day ; Don't be afi-aid — St. Paul's can't run away^ Eeader, If e'er thy bosom felt a thought suhlime, Drop tears of pity with the man of rhyme 1 THE PILGRIMS AND THE PEAS. PETER PINDAS. Peter continueth to give great Advice, and to exbibit deep reflection — He teiletli a miraculous Story. There is a knack in doing many a thing. Which labor can not to perfection bring: Therefore, however great in your own eyes, Pray do not hints from other folks despise : A fool on something great, at times, may stumble, And consequently be a good adviser : On which, forever, your wise men may fumble, And never be a whit the wiser 1)6 NARKATTVB. Yes ! I advise you, for there 's wisdom in 't, Never to be superior to a hint — The genius of each man, with keenness view — A spark from this, or t'other, caught, May kindle, quick as thought, A glorious bonfire up in you. A question of you let me beg — Of fam'd Columbus and his egg. Pray, have you heard? " Yes." — 0, then, if you please I '11 give you the two Pilgrims and the Peas. THE PILGRIMS AND THE PEAS. A TRUE STORY. A brace of sinners, for no good. Were order' d to the Virgin Mary's shrine, Who at Loretto dwelt, in wax, stone, wood, And in a fair white wig look'd wondrous fine. Fifty long mUes had those sad rogues to travel. With something in then- shoes much worse than gravel ' In short, their toes so gentle to amuse. The priest had order'd peas into their shoes : A nostrum famous in old Popish times For purifying souls that stunk of crimes : A sort of apostoKc salt, Wnich Popish parsons for its powers exalt^ For keeping souls of sinners sweet, Just as our kitchen salt keeps meat. The knaves set off on the same day. Peas in their shoes, to go and pray : But very diff 'rent was their speed, I wot : One of the sinners gallop'd on. Swift as a bullet from a gun ; The other limp'd, as if he had been shot. One saw the Virgin soon — -jpeccavi cried — Had his soul white-wash' d all so clever ; Then home again he nimbly hied, Made fit, with saints above, to Hve forever. NARRATIVE. 97 In comiug back, however, let me say, He met his brother rogue about half way — Hobbling, with out-stretch'd hands and bending knees; Damning the souls and bodies of the peas : His eyes in tears, his cheeks and brows in sweat, Deep sympathizing with his groaning feet. " How now," the light-toed, white-wash'd pilgrim broke " You lazy lubber !" " Ods curse it," cried the other, " 'tis no joke — My feet, once hard as any rock, Are now as soft as any blubber. " Excuse me, Virgin Mary, that I swear — As for Loretto I shall not get there ; No I to the Dev'l my sinful soul must go, For damme if I ha'nt lost ev'ry toe. " But, brother sinner, pray explain How 'tis that you are not in pain : What pow'r hath work'd a wonder for your toes : While /, just hke a snail am crawHng, Now swearing, now on saints devoutly bawKng, While not a rascal comes to ease my woes ? ** How is't that you can like a greyhound go, Merry, as if that naught had happen' d, burn ye?" "Why," cried the other, grinning, " you must know, That just before I ventur'd on my journey, To walk a httle more at ease, I took the liberty to boil my peas.' " ON THE DEATH OF A FAVORITE CAT, DROWNED IN A TUB OF GOLDFISHES. THOMAS GRAY. 'T WAS on a lofty vase's side. Where China's gayest art had dyed The azure flowers that blow, Demurest of the tabby kind, The pensive Selima, rechned. Gazed on the lake below. 5 OS NARRATIVE. Her conscious tail her joy declared ; The fair round face, the snowy beard, The velvet of her paws, Her coat that with the tortoise vies, Her ears of jet, and emerald eyes, She saw, and purred applause. Still had she gaz'd, but, 'midst the tide, Two angel forms were seen to ghde, The G-enii of the stream : Their scaly armor's Tyrian hue. Through richest purple, to the view Betrayed a golden gleam. The hapless nymph with wonder saw ; A whisker first, and then a claw, With many an ardent wish, She stretched in vain to reach the prize ; What female heart can gold despise ? What Cat 's averse to fish ? Presumptuous maid ! with looks intent, Again she stretched, again she bent, Nor knew the gulf between : (Malignant Fate sat by and smiled) The sHppery verge her feet beguiled ; She tumbled headlong in. Eight times emerging fi:om the flood, She mewed to every watery god Some speedy aid to send. No Dolphin came, no Nereid stirred, Nor cruel Tom or Susan heard ; A fav'rite has no friend ! From hence, ye Beauties ! undeceived, Ejaow one false step is ne'er retrieved, And be with caution bold : Not all that tempts your wandering eyea^ And heedless hearts, is lawful prize, Nor all that ghstens gold. NARRATIVE. 99 THE RETIRED CAT. WILLIAM COWPEB. A Poet's Cat, sedate and grave As poet well could wish to have, Was much addicted to inquire For nooks to which she might retire, And where, secure as mouse in chink, She might repose, or sit and think. I know not where she caught the trick ; Nature perhaps herself had cast her In such a mold philosophiqtje, Or else she learned it of her master. Sometimes ascending, debonair, An apple-tree, or lofty pear, Lodged with convenience in the fork, She watched the gardener at his work ; Sometimes her ease and solace sought In an old empty watering-pot, There wanting nothing, save a fan. To seem some nymph in her sedan, Appareled in exactest sort, And ready to be borne to court. But love of change it seems has place Not only in our wiser race ; Cats also feel, as well as we, That passion's force, and so did she. Her climbing, she began to find, Exposed her too much to the wind. And the old utensil of tin Was cold and comfortless within : She therefore wished, instead of those, Some place of more serene repose. Where neither cold might come, nor air Too rudely wanton in her hair, And sought it in the likeliest mode Within her master's snug abode. A drawer, it chanced, at bottom lined With linen of the softest kind, 100 NARRATIVE. With such as merchants introduce From India, for the ladies' use ; A drawer, impending o'er the rest, Half open, in the topmost chest, Of depth enough, and none to spare, Invited her to slumber there ; Puss with delight beyond expression, Surveyed the scene and took possession. Eecumbent at her ease, ere long. And lulled by her own humdrum song. She left the cares of life behind, And slept as she would sleep her last, When in came, housewifely incHned, The chambermaid, and shut it fast, By no malignity impelled, But all unconscious whom it held. Awakened by the shock (cried puss) " Was ever cat attended thus 1 The open drawer was left, I see. Merely to prove a nest for me. For soon as I was well composed, Then came the maid, and it was closed. How smooth those 'kerchiefs, and how sweet Oh what a delicate retreat ! I wlU resign myself to rest Till Sol declining in the west, Sball call to supper, when, no doubt, Susan will come, and let me out." The evening came, the sun descended, And puss remained still unattended. The night roUed tardily away (With her indeed 't was never day). The sprightly morn her course renewed, The evening gray again ensued. And puss came into mind no more Than if entombed the day before ; ' With hunger pinched, and pinched for room, She now presaged approaching doom. Nor slept a single wink, nor purred, Conscious of jeopardy incurred. NAEEATIVE. 101 That night, by chance, the poet, watching, Heard an inexplicable scratching ; His noble heart went pit-a-pat. And to himself he said—" What 's that ?" He drew the curtain at Ms side. And forth he peeped, but nothing" spied. Yet, by his ear directed, guessed Something imprisoned in the chest ; And, doubtful what, with prudent care Eesolved it should continue there. At length a voice which well he knew, A long and melancholy mew, Saluting his poetic ears. Consoled him, and dispelled his fears ; He left his bed, he trod the floor. He 'gan in haste the drawers explore, The lowest first, and without stop The next in order to the top. For 'tis a truth well know to most, That whatsoever thing is lost. We seek it, ere it come to hght, In every cranny but the right. Forth skipped the cat, not now replete As erst with airy self-conceit, Nor in her own fond comprehension, A theme for all the world's attention, But modest, sober, cured of aU Her notions hyperbohcal. And wisliing for a place of rest, Any thing rather than a chest. Then stepped the poet into bed With this reflection in his head ; Beware of too sublime a sense Of your own worth and consequence. The man who dreams himself so great^ And his importance of such weight. That all around in all that 's done Must move and act for him alone, WiU learn in school of tribulation The folly of his expectation. 102 NAEEATIVE. SAYING NOT MEANING. WILLIAM BASIL WAKft Two gentlemen their appetite had fed, When opening his toothpick-case, one said, " It was not until lately that I knew That anchovies on terra firmd grew. "Grow!" cried the other, "yes, they grow^ indeed, Like other fish, but not upon the land ; Tou might as weU say grapes grow on a reed, Or in the Strand I" " Why, sir," returned the irritated other, " My brother, When at Calcutta Beheld them honafide growing; He would n't utter A lie for love or money, sir ; so in This matter you are thoroughly mistaken." " Nonsense, su- ! nonsense ! I can give no credit To the assertion — none e'er saw or read it ; Tour brother, like his evidence, should be shaken." " Be shaken, sir I let me observe, you are Perverse — ^in short — " " Sir," said the other, sucking his cigar, And then his port — " If you will say impossibles are true, You may afl&rm just any thing you please- That swans are quadrupeds, and lions blue, And elephants inhabit Stilton cheese I Only you must not /orce me to believe What's propagated merely to deceive." "Then you force me to say, su", you're a fool," Return' d the bragger. Language like this no man can suffer cool : It made the hstener stagger ; So, thunder-stricken, he at once replied, " The traveler lied NARRATIVE. 103 Who had the impudence to tell it you ;" " Zounds 1 then d'ye mean to swear before my face That anchovies donH grow like cloves and mace ?" -'IdoT Disputants often after hot debates Leave the contention as they found it — ^bone, And take to duelling or thumping Utes ; Thinking by strength of artery to atone For strength of argument ; and he vi'-ho winces From force of words, with force of arms convinces I With pistols, powder, bullets, surgeons, hnt. Seconds, and smelling-bottles, and foreboding, Our friends advanced ; and now portentous loading (Their hearts already loaded) sei^'d to show It might be better they shook hands — ^but no ; When each opines himself, though frighten' d, right^ Each is, in courtesy, oblig'd to fight ! And they did fight : from six full measured paces The unbeUever pulled his trigger first ; And fearing, fi:om the braggart's ugly faces, The whizzing lead had whizz'd its very wjrst, Ean up, and with a duelistic fear (His ire evanishing like morning vapors), Found him possess' d of one remaining ear, Who in a manner sudden and uncouth, Had given, not lent, the other ear to truth; For while the surgeon was applying lint, He, wriggling, cried — " The deuce is in't — " Sir I I meant — capers I" 104 NARRATIVE. JULIA. SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE. medio de fonte leporum Surgit amari aliquid. — Lucret. Julia was blest with beauty, wit, and grace : Small poets loved to sing her blooming face. Before her altars, lo ! a numerous train Preferr'd their vows ; yet aU preferr'd in vain . Till charming Florio, born to conquer, came, And touch' d the fair one with an equal flame. The flame she felt, and iU could she conceal • What every look and action would reveal. With boldness then, which seldom fails to move, He pleads the cause of marriage and of love ; The course of hymeneal joys he rounds, The fair one's eyes dance pleasure at the sounds. Naught now remain'd but "Noes" — how little meant>- And the sweet coyness that endears consent The youth upon his knees enraptured fell : — The strange misfortune, oh ! what words can tell 'i Tell ! ye neglected sylphs ! who lap-dogs guard, Why snatch'd ye not away your precious ward ? Why suffer'd ye the lover's weight to fall On the ill-fated neck of much-loved Ball ? The favorite on his mistress casts his eyes, Gives a melancholy howl, and — dies ! Sacred his ashes Me, and long his rest ! Anger and grief divide poor Juha's breast Her eyes she fix'd on guilty Florio first, On him the storm of angry grief must burst That storm he fled : — ^he woos a kinder fair, Whose fond affections no dear puppies share. 'T were vain to tell how Juha pined away ; — Unhappy fair, that in one luckless day (Prom future almanacs the day be cross'd 1) At once her lover and her lap-dog lost 1 NARRATIVE. 10^ A COCK AND HEN STORY. ROBERT SOUTHEl PART I. Oncb on a time three Pilgrims true, Being Father and Mother and Son, For pare devotion to the Saint, A pilgrimage begun. Their names, Httle friends, I am sorry to say, In none of my books can I find ; But the son, if you please, we '11 call Pierre, What the parents were called, never mind. Prom France they came, in which fair land They were people of good renown ; And they took up their lodging one night on the way In La Calzada town. Now, if poor Pilgrims they had been. And had lodged in the Hospice instead of the Inn, My good little women and men, Why then you never would have heard, This tale of the Cock and the Hen. For the Innkeepers they had a daughter, Sad to say, who was just such another As Potiphar's daughter, I think, would have been If she followed the ways of her mother. This wicked woman to our Pierre Behaved like Potiphar's wife ; And because she failed to win his love, She resolved to take his life. So she packed up a silver cup In his wallet privily ; And then, as soon as they were gone, She raised a hue and cry. 5* '06 NAEKATIVE. The Pilgrims were overtaken, The people gathered round, Their wallets were searched, and in Pierre's The silver cup was found. They dragged him before the Alcayde ; A hasty Judge was he, "The theft," he said, "was plain and proved, And hang'd the tliief must be." So to the gallows our poor Pierre Was hurried instantly. If I should now relate The piteous lamentation, Which for their son these parents mad^ My Uttle friends, I am afraid You 'd weep at the relation. But Pierre in Santiago stiU His constant faith profess' d ; When to the gallows he was led, "'T was a short way to Heaven," he said, " Though not the pleasantest." And from their pilgrimage he charged His parents not to cease, Sajdng that unless they promised this, He could not be hanged in peace. They promised it with heavy hearts ; Pierre then, therewith content, Was hang'd : and they upon their way To Compostella went. PART II. Four weeks they travel'd painfully, They paid their vows, and then To La Calzada's fatal town Did they come back again. NAEKATIVE. 107 The Mother would not be withheld, But go she must to see Where her poor Pierre was left to hang Upon the gallows tree. Oh tale most marvelous to hear, Most marvelous to tell ! Eight weeks had he been hanging there. And yet was alive and well ! " Mother," said he, " I am glad you 're retum'd, It is time I should now be released : Though I can not complain that I 'm tired. And my neck does not ache in the least. " The Sun has not scorch'd me by day. The Moon has not chilled me by night; Ind the winds have but helped me to swing. As if in a dream of dehght. " Go you to the Alcayde, That hasty Judge unjust, TeU him Santiago has saved me, And take me down he must I" Now, you must know the Alcayde, Not thinldng himself a great sinner, Just then at table had sate down, About to begin his dinner. His knife was raised to carve The dish before him then ; Two roasted fowls were laid therein, That very morning they had been A Cock and his faithful Hen. In came the Mother, wild with joy : '* A miracle !" she cried ; But that most hasty Judge unjust Bepell'd her in his pride. 108 NARRATIVE. " Think not," quoth he, " to tales Uke this That I should give beUef I Santiago never would bestow His miracles, full well I know, On a Frenchman and a thief." And pointing to the Fowls, o'er which He held his ready knife, " As easily might I beheve These birds should come to life I" The good Saint would not let him thus The Mother's true tale withstand ; So up rose the Fowls in the dish. And down dropt the knife from his hand. The Cock would have crow'd if he could: To cackle the Hen had a wish ; And they both slipt about in the gravy Before they got out of the dish. And when each would have open'd its eyes, For the purpose of looking about them, They saw they had no eyes to open. And that there was no seeing without them. All this was to them a great wonder, They stagger'd and reel'd on the table ; And either to guess where they were, Or what was their phght, or how they came there. Alas ! they were wholly unable : Because, you must know, that that morning, A thing which they thought very hard. The Cook had cut off tlieir heads. And thrown them away in the yard. The Hen would have pranked up her feathers, But plucking had sadly deform'd her ; And for want of them she would have shiver' d with cold. If the roastino: she had had not warm'd her. NAERATIVE. 109 And the Cock felt exceedingly queer ; He thought it a very odd thing That his head and his voice were he did not know where, And his gizzard tuck'd under his wing. The gizzard got into its place, But how Santiago knows best : And so, by the help of the Saint, Did the hver and all the rest. The heads saw their way to the bodies. In tliey came from the yard without check, And each took its own proper station, To the very great joy of the neck. And in flew the feathers, like snow in a shower, For they all became white on the way ; And the Cock and the Hen in a trice were refledged, And then who so happy as they I Cluck 1 cluck ! cried the Hen right merrily then, The Cock his clarion blew, Full glad was he to hear again His own cock-a-doo-del-doo I PART III. " A RHRACLE ! a miracle !" The people shouted, as they might well. When the news went through the town, And every child and woman and man Took up the cry, and away they ran To see Pierre taken down. They made a famous procession • My good little women and men, Such a sight was never seen before, And I think will never again. no NAREATIYE. Santiago's Image, large as life, Went first with banners and drum and fife ; And next, as was most meet, The twice-born Cock and Hen were borne Along the thronging street. Perched on a cross-pole hoisted high, They were raised in sight of the crowd ; And when the people set up a cry, The Hen she cluck' d in sympathy, And the Cock he crow'd aloud. And because they very well knew for why They were carried in such solemnity, And saw the Saint and his banners before 'em. They behaved with the greatest propriety. And most correct decorum. The Knife, which had cut off their heads that mom, StiQ red with their innocent blood, was borne. The scullion boy he carried it ; And the Skewers also made part of the show. With which they were truss' d for the spit. The Cook in triumph bore that Spit As high as he was able ; And the Dish was display' d wherein they were laid When they had been served at table. With eager faith the crowd prest round ; There was a scramble of women and men For who should dip a finger-tip In the blessed Gravy then. Next went the Alcayde, beating his breast, Crying aloud like a man distrest, And amazed at the loss of his dinner, " Santiago, Santiago I Have mercy on me a sinner 1" NARRATIVE. Ill And lifting oftentimes his hands Toward the Cock and Hen, Orate pro nobis /" devoutly he cried, And as devoutly the people rephed, Whenever he said it, " Amenl" The Father and Mother were last in the tram; Eejoicingly they came, And extoll'd, with tears of gratitude, Santiago's glorious name. So, with all honors that might be, They gently unhang' d Pierre ; No hurt or harm had he sustain' d. But, to make the wonder clear, A deep biack halter-mark remain'd Just under his left ear. PART IV. And now, my little listening dears With open mouths and open ears. Like a rhymer whose only art is That of telling a plain un varnish' d tale, To let you know I must not fail. What became of all the parties. Pierre went on to Compostella To finish his pilgrimage. His parents went back with him joyfully, After which they returned to their own country ^ And there, I beUeve, that all the three Lived to a good old age. For the gallows on which Pierre So happily had swung. It was resolved that never more On it should man be hung. 112 NARRATIVE. To the Church it was transplanted, As ancient books declare : And the people in commotion, With an uproar of devotion, Set it up for a relic there. What became of the halter I know not^ Because the old books show not ; But we may suppose and hope, That the city presented Pierre With that interesting rope. For in his family, and this The Corporation knew. It rightly would be valued more Than any cordon bleu. The Innkeeper's wicked daughter Confess' d what she had done. So they put her in a Convent, And she was made a Nun. The Alcayde had been so fiighten'd That he never ate fowls again ; And he always pulled off his hat When he saw a Cock and Hen. Wherever he sat at table Not an egg might there be placed ; And he never even muster'd courage for a custard, Though garlic tempted him to taste Of an omelet now and then. But always after such a transgression He hastened away to make confession ; And not till he had confess' d, And the Priest had absolved him, did he feel His conscience and stomach at rest. The twice-born Birds to the Pilgrim's Church As by miracle consecrated. Were given ; and there unto the Saint They were pubUcly dedicated. NARRATIVE- 113 At tlieir dedication the Corporation A fund for their keep supplied ; And after following the Saint and his banners, This Cock and Hen were so changed in their mannei-s, That the Priests were edified. Gentle as any turtle-dove, Saint Cock became all meekness and love ; Most dutiful of wives, Saint Hen she never peck'd again, So they led happy lives. The ways of ordinary fowls You must know they had clean forsaken; And if every Cock and Hen in Spain Had their example taken. Why then — the Spaniards would have had No eggs to eat with bacon. These blessed Fowls, at seven years end, In the odor of sanctity died : They were carefully pluck'd and then They were buried, side by side. And lest the fact should be forgotten (Which would have been a pity), 'T was decreed, in honor of their worth, That a Cock and Hen should be borne thenceforth. In the arms of that ancient City. Two eggs Saint Hen had laid — no more — The chickens were her delight ; A Cock and Hen they proved, And both, Uke theu^ parents, were virtuous and white, The last act of the Holy Hen Was to rear this precious brood; and when Saint Cock and she were dead, This couple, as the lawful heirs, Succeeded in their stead. »14 NARKATIVE. They also lived seven years, And they laid eggs but two, From which two milk-white chickens To Cock and Henhood grew ; And always their posterity The self-same course pursue. Not one of these eggs ever addled, (With wonder be it spoken !) Not one of them ever was lost, Not one of them ever was broken. Sacred they are ; neither magpie nor rat, Snake, weasel, nor marten approaching them; And woe to the irreverent wretch Who should even dream of poaching them ! Thus then is this great miracle Continued to tliis day ; And to their Church all Pilgi'ims go, When they are on the way ; And some of the feathers are given them ; For which they always pay. No price is set upon them. And this leaves all persons at ease ; The Poor give as much as they can. The Rich as much as they please. But that the more they give the better, Is very well understood ; Seeing whatever is thus disposed o^ Is for their own souls' good ; For Santiago will always Befriend his true believers ; And the money is for him, the Priests Being only his receivers. To make the miracle the more, Of these feathers there is always store, NAEKATIVE. 116 And all are genuine too; All of the original Cock and Hen, Which the Priests will swear is true. Thousands a thousand times told have bought them, And if myriads and tens of myriads sought them, They would still find some to buy ; For however great were the demand, So great would be the supply. And if any of you, my smaU friends. Should visit those parts, I dare say You will bring away some of the feathers, And think of old Eobin Grray. THE SEARCH AFTER HAPPINESS; OR, THE QUEST OF SULTAUN SOLIMAUN. SIR WALTER SCOTT. Oh, for a glance of that gay Muse's eye. That lighten' d on Bandello's laughing tale, And twinkled with a luster shrewd and sly, When Giam Batttista bade her vision hail ! — Yet fear not, ladies, the naive detail Given by the natives of that land canorous ; Italian license loves to leap the pale, We Britons have the fear of shame before us, And, if not wise in mirth, at least must be decorous. In the far eastern clime, no great while since, Lived Sultaun Solimaun, a mighty prince. Whose eyes, as oft as they perform' d their round, Beheld all others fix'd upon the ground ; Whose ears received the same unvaried phrase, " Sultaun ! thy vassal hears, and he obeys 1" All have their tastes — this may the fancy strike Of such grave folks as pomp and grandeur like ; For me, I love the honest heart and warm Of monarch who can amble round his farm, Or when the toil of state no more annoys, In chimney corner seek domestic joys — 116 NARRATIVE. I love a prince will bid the bottle pass, Exchanging with his subjects glance and glass ; In fitting time, can, gayest of the gay, Keep up the jest, and njingle in the lay — Such Monarchs best our free-born humors suit, But Despots must be stately, stern, and mute. This SoHmaun, Serendib had in sway — And where 's Serendib ? may some critic say — Good lack, mine honest friend, consult the chart, Scare not my Pegasus before I start ! If Rennell has it not, you '11 find, mayhap. The isle laid down in Captain Sinbad's map — Famed mariner ! whose merciless narrations Drove every friend and kinsman out of patience. Till, fiiin to find a guest who thought them shorter, He deign'd to tell them over to a porter — The last edition see, by Long and Co., Rees, Hurst, and Orme, our fathers in the Row. Serendib found, deem not my tale a fiction — This Sultaun, whether lacking contradiction — (A sort of stimulant which hath its uses. To raise the spirits and reform the juices, — Sovereign specific for all sorts of cures In my wife's practice, and perhaps in yours). The Sultaun lacking this same wholesome bitter, Of cordial smooth for prince's palate fitter — Or if some Mollah had hag-rid his dreams "With Degial, Ginnistan, and such wild themes Belonging to the Mollah' s subtle craft, I wot not — but the Sultaun never laugh' d. Scarce ate or drank, and took a melancholy That scorn'd all remedy profane or holy; In his long Hst of melancholies, mad, Or mazed, or dumb, hath Burton none so bad. Physicians soon arrived, sage, ware, and tried, As e'er scrawl' d jargon in a darken'd room; With heedful glance the Sultaun's tongue they eyed, Peep'd in his bath, and God knows where beside, And then in solemn accent spoke their doom. NARRATIVE. 117 "His majesty is very far from well." Then each to work with his specific fell ; The Hakim Ibrahim instanter brought His unguent Mahazzim al Zerdukkaut, While Roompot, a practitioner more wily, Relied on his ]\Iunaskif all fiUfily. More and yet more in deep array appear, And some the front assail, and some the rear ; Their remedies to reinforce and vary, Came surgeon eke, and eke apothecary ; Till the tired Monarch, though of words grown chary, Yet dropt, to recompense their fruitless labor, Some hint about a bowstring or a saber. There lack'd, I promise you, no longer speeches, To rid the palace of those learned leeches. Then was the council call'd — by their advice (They deem'd the matter tickhsh all, and nice. And sought to sliift it off from their own shoulders) Tartars and couriers in all speed were sent, To call a sort of Eastern Parhament Of feudatory chieftains and freeholders — Such have the Persians at this very day, My gallant Malcolm calls them couroultai; — I 'm not prepared to show in this sHght song That to Serendib the same forms belong — E'en let the learn'd go search, and tell me if I'm wrong. The Omrahs, each with hand on scimitar. Gave, like Sempronius, still their voice for war — "The saber of the Sultaun in its sheath Too long has slept, nor own'd the work of death; Let the Tambourgi bid his signal rattle, Bang the loud gong, and raise the shout of battle 1 This dreary cloud that dims our sovereign's day, Shall from his kindled bosom flit away. When the bold Lootie wheels his courser round, And the arm'd elephant shall shake the ground. Each noble pants to own the glorious summons — And for the charges — Lo ! your faithful Commons I" 118 NAREATIYE. The Eiots who attended in their places (Serendib language calls a farmer Riot) Look'd ruefully in one another's faces, From this oration auguring much disquiet, Double assessment, forage, and free quarters ; And fearing these as China-men the Tartars, Or as the whisker'd vermin fear the mousers, Each fumbled in the pockets of liis trowsers. Bald heads, white beards, and many a turban green, Imaum and Mollah there of every station, Santon, Fakir, and Calendar were seen. Their votes were various — some advised a Mosque With fitting revenues should be erected, With seemly gardens and with gay Kiosque, To create a band of priests selected ; Others opined that through the realms a dole Be made to holy men, whose prayers might profit The Sultaun's weal in body and in soul. But their long-headed chief, the Sheik Ul-Sofit, More closely touch'd the point; — " Thy skidious mood," Quoth he, '•' Prince I hath thicken'd all thy blood, And dull'd thy brain with labor beyond measure ; Wherefore relax a space and take thy pleasure, And toy with beauty, or tell o'er thy treasure ; From all the cares of state, my Liege, enlarge thee. And leave the burden to thy faithful clergy." ' These counsels sage availed not a whit. And so the patient (as is not uncommon Where grave physicians lose their time and wit) Resolved to take advice of an old woman ; His mother she, a dame who once was beauteous, And still was called so by each subject duteous. Now whether Fatima was witch in earnest. Or only made beUeve, I can not say — But she profess' d to cure disease the sternest, By dint of magic amulet or lay ; And, when all other skill in vain was shown, She deem'd it fittins: time to use her own. NARRATIVE. HO " Sympathia magica hath wonders done" (Thus did old Fatima bespeak her son), *' It works upon the fibers and the pores, And thus, insensibly, our health restores, And it must help us here. — Thou must endure The Ul, my son, or travel for the cure. Search land and sea, and get, where'er you can, The inmost vesture of a happy man : I mean liis shirt, my son ; which, taken warm And fresh from off Ms back, shall chase your harm, Bid every current of your veins rejoice, And your duU heart leap light as shepherd-boy's." Such was the counsel from his mother came ; — I know not if she had some under-game. As doctors have, who bid their patients roam And hve abroad, when sure to die at home ; Or if she thought, that, somehow or another, Queen-Regent sounded better than Queen-Mother ; But, says the Chronicle (who will go look it ?) That such was her advice — the Sultaun took it. All are on board — the Sultaun and his train, In gilded gaUey prompt to plow the main. The old Rais was the first who question' d, "Whither* They paused — " Arabia," thought the pensive Prince, " Was caU'd The Happy many ages since — Eor Mokha, Rais." — And they came safely thither. But not in Araby, with aU her balm, Not where Judea weeps beneath her pahn, Not in rich Egypt, not in Nubian waste. Could there the step of Happiness be traced. One Copt alone profess'd to have seen her smile When Bruce his goblet fill'd at infant Nile : She bless'd the dauntless traveler as he quaff'd But vanish'd from him with the ended draught "Enough of turbans," said the weary King, "These dolimans of ours are not the thing; Try we the Giaours, these men of coat and cap, I IncMne to think some of them must be happy ; At least they have as fair a cause as any can, They drink good wine and keep no Ramazan. 120 NARRATIVE. Then northward, ho!" — The vessel cuts the sea, And fair Italia Hes upon her lee. — But fair ItaKa, she who once unfurl'd Her eagle-banners o'er a conquer'd world. Long from her throne of domination tumbled, Lay, by her quondam vassals, sorely humbled. The Pope himself look'd pensive, pale, and lean, And was not half the man he once had been. " While these the priest and those the noble fleeces, Our poor old boot," they said, " is torn, to pieces. Its tops the vengeful claws of Austria feel, And the G-reat Devil is rending toe and heel. If happiness you seek, to tell you truly, We think she dwells with one Giovanni BuUi ; A tramontane, a heretic — the buck, Poffaredio ! still has all the luck ; By land or ocean never strikes his flag — And then — a perfect walking money-bag." Off set our Prince to seek John Bull's abode, But first took France — it lay upon the road. Monsieur Baboon, after much late commotion. Was agitated like a settling ocean. Quite out of sorts, and could not tell what ail'd him, Only the glory of his house had fail'd him ; Besides, some tumors on liis noddle biding. Gave indication of a recent hiding. Our Prince, though Sultauns of such things are heedless, Thought it a thing indehcate and needless To ask, if at that moment he was happy. And Monsieur, seeing that he was comme il faut^ a Loud voice muster'd up, for " Vive le Roi /" Then whisper' d, " 'Ave you any news of Nappy ?" The Sultaun answer' d him with a cross question — " Pray, can you tell me aught of one John Bull, That dwells somewhere beyond your herring-pool ?" The query seem'd of difficult digestion, The party slirugg'd, and grinn'd, and took his snuff, And found his whole good-breeding scarce enough. Twitching his visage into as many puckers As damsels wont to put into their tuckers NARRATIVE. 121 (Ere liberal Fashion clamn'd both lace and lawn, And bade the vail of modesty be drawn), Replied the Frenchman, after a brief pause, " Jean Bool ! — I vas not know him — ^yes, I vas- - I vas remember dat, von yeai- or two, I saw him at von place call'd Yaterloo — Ma foi ! il s'est tres joliment battu, Dat is for Englishman — m'entendez-vous ? But den he had wit him one damn son-gun, Rogue I no hke — dey call him Vellington." Monsieur's poHteness could not hide liis fret, So Soli maun took leave, and cross' d the strait. John Bull was in his very worst of moods. Raving of sterUe farms and unsold goods ; His sugar-loaves and bales about he threw, And on his counter beat the devil's tattoo. His wars were ended, and the victory won. But then, 'twas reckoning-day with honest Johnj And authors vouch, 'twas stiil tliis Worthy's way, " Never to grumble tiU he came to pay ; And then he always thinks, his temper's such, The work too little, and the pay too much." Yet grumbler as he is, so kind and hearty, That when his mortal foe was on the floor. And past the power to harm his quiet more, Poor John had well-nigh wept for Bonaparte ! Such was the wight whom Sohmaun salam'd — "And who are you," John answer'd, " and be d — d?*" " A stranger come to see the happiest man — So, signior, all avouch — in Frangistan.' — " Happy ? my tenants breaking on my hsv^'l ; Unstock'd my pastures, and untill'd my land ; Sugar and rum a drug, and mice and moths The sole consumers of my good broadcloths — Happy ? — why, cursed war and racking tax Have left us scarcely raiment to our backs." — "In that case, signior, I may take my leave; I came to ask a favor — but I grieve." — " Favor ?" said John, and eyed the Sultaun hard, " It's my beUef you came to break the yard I— 6 122 NARRATIVE. But, stay, you look like some poor foreign sinner — Take that to buy yourself a shirt and dinner." — With that he chuck' d a guinea at his head ; But, with due dignity, the Sultaun said, " Permit me, sir, your bounty to decHne ; A shirt indeed I seek, but none of thine. Signior, I kiss your hands, so fare you well," — " Kiss and be d— d," quoth John, " and go to heE!" Next door to John there dwelt his sister Peg, Once a wild lass as ever shook a leg When the bhthe bagpipe blew — but, soberer now, She doucely span her flax and milk'd her cow. And whereas erst she was a needy slattern, Nor now of wealth or cleanliness a pattern. Yet once a month her house was partly swept, And once a week a plenteous board she kept. And, whereas, eke, the vixen used her claws And teeth of yore, on slender provocation. She now was grown amenable to laws, A quiet soul as any in the nation ; The sole remembrance of her warlike joys Was in old songs she sang to please her boys. John Bull, whom, in their years of early strife, She wont to lead a cat>-and-doggish life, Now found the woman, as he said, a neighbor. Who look'd to the main chance, declined no labor, Loved a long grace, and spoke a northern jargon, And was d — d close in making of a bargain. The Sultaun enter'd, and he made his leg. And with decorum courtesy'd sister Peg ; (She loved a book, and knew a tiling or two, And guess'd at once with whom she had to do). She bade him " Sit into the fire," and took Her dram, her cake, her kebbuck from the nook ; Ask'd him "About the news from Eastern parts; And of her absent bairns, puir Highland hearts ! If peace brought down the price of tea and pepper. And if the nitmugs were grown ony cheaper; — Were there nae speerings of our Mungo Park — Ye 'U be the geatleman that wants the sark ? NAEEATIVE. 123 If ye wad buy a web o' auld wife's spinning, I '11 warrant ye it's a weel-wearing linen." Then up got Peg, and round the house 'gan scuttle In search of goods her customer to nail, Until the Sultaun strain' d his princely throttle And hallo'd — ''Ma'am, that is not what I ail. Pray, are you happy, ma'am, in this snug glen ?" — "Happy ?" said Peg; " What for d'ye want to ken? Besides, just think upon this by-gane year, Grain wadna pay the yoking of the pleugh." — " What say you to the present ?" — " Meal's sae dear, To make their hrose my bairns have scarce aneugh."— " The devil take the shirt," said Sohmaun, " I think my quest will end as it began. — Farewell, ma'am ; nay, no ceremony, I beg" — '•* Ye 'U no be for the hnen then?" said Peg. Now, for the land of verdant Erin, The Sultaun's royal bark is steering. The Emerald Isle, where honest Paddy dwells, The cousin of John Bull, as story teUs. For a long space had John, with words of thunder Hard looks, and harder knocks, kept Paddy under, Till the poor lad, hke boy that's flogg'd unduly, Had gotten somewhat restive and unruly. Hard was liis lot and lodging, you 'U allow, A wigwam that would hardly serve a sow ; His landlord, and of middle men two brace, Had screw' d his rent up to the starving-place ; His garment was a top-coat, and an old one. His meal was a potato, and a cold one ; But still for fun or frolic, and aU that. In the round world was not the match of Pat. The Sultaun saw him on a hohday, Wliich is with Paddy still a jolly day ; When mass is ended, and his load of sins Confess' d, and Mother Church hath fi-om her binna Dealt forth a bonus of imputed merit, Then is Pat's time for fancy, whim, and spirit I To jest, to sing, to caper fair and free. And dance as light as leaf upon the tree. \24 NARRATIVE. *' By Mahomet," said Sultaun Solimaun, " Tliat ragged fellow is our very man ! Rush in and seize him — do not do him hurt, But, will he nill he, let me have liis shirt" Shilela their plan was well-nigh after baulking (Much less provocation will set it a- walking), But the odds that foil'd Hercules foil'd Paddy Whack; They seized, and they floor' d, and they stripp'd him — Alack i Up-bubboo ! Paddy had not — a shirt to his back 1 ! ! And the King, disappointed, with sorrow and shame, Went back to Serendib as sad as he came. THE DONKEY AND HIS PANNIERS. THOMAS MOORE, A DONKEY whose talent for burden was wondrous. So much that you 'd swear he rejoiced in a load, One day had to jog under panniers so pond'rous. That — down the poor donkey fell, smack on the road. His owners and drivers stood round in amaze — What ! Neddy, the patient, the prosperous Neddy So easy to drive through the dirtiest w^ays, For every description of job-work so ready ! One driver (whom Ned might have " hail'd" as a " brother") Had just been proclaiming his donkey's renown. For vigor, for spirit, for one thing or other — When, lo ! 'mid his praises, the donkey came down. But, how to upraise Mm? — one shouts, V other whistles, While Jenky, the conjurer, wisest of all. Declared that an " over-production" of thistles — (Here Ned gave a stare) — was the cause of his faU. Another wise Solomon cries, as he passes — " There, let him alone, and the fit will soon cease ; The beast has been fighting with other jack-asses. And this is his mode of ' transition to peace.'' " NARRATIVE. I2i Some look'd at his hoofs, and, with learned grimaces. Prononnced that too long without shoes he had goae — " Let the blacksmith provide him a sound metal basis (The wiseacres said), and he 's sure to jog on." But others who gabbled a jargon half G-aelic, Exclaim'd, " Hoot awa, mon, you 're a' gane astray" — And declared that " whoe'er might prefer the metallic, They 'd shoe their own donkeys with papier mache.'^ Meanwhile the poor N"eddy, in torture and fear, Lay under his panniers, scarce able to groan, And, what was still dolefuler — lending an ear To advisers whose ears were a match for liis own. At length, a plain rustic, whose wit went so far As to see others' folly, roar'd out as he pass'd — " Quick — off with the panniers, all dolts as ye are, Or your prosperous Neddy will soon kick his last" MISADVENTURES AT MARGATE. A LEGEND OF JARVIS'S JETTY. R. HARRIS BARHAM. MR. SIMPKINSON (loquitur). I WAS in Margate last July, I walk'd upon the pier, I saw a Httle vulgar Boy — I said " What make you here '/ — The gloom upon your youthful cheek speaks any thing but joy;' Again I said, " What make you here, you httle vulgar Boy ?" He frown' d, that Httle vulgar Boy — he deem'd I meant to scoflf— And when the Httle heart is big, a Httle " sets it off;" He put his finger in his mouth, his Httle bosom rose, — He had no Httle handkerchief to wipe his little nose I "Harkl don't you hear, my Httle man? — it's striking nine," I said, " An hour when aU good little boys and girls should be in bed. Run home and get your supper, else your Ma' wiU scold — Oh ' fie!— It's very wrong indeed for Httle boys to stand and cryl" 126 N ARE ATI\ E. The tear-drop in his Httle eye again began to spring, TTis bosom throbb'd with agony — he cried hke any thing ! I stoop'd, and thus amidst his sobs I heard him murmur — " Ah 1 I haven't got no supper 1 and I haven't got no Ma' I ! — " My father, he is on the seas, — my mother 's dead and gone 1 And I am here, on this here pier, to roam the world alone ; I have not had, this live-long day, one drop to cheer my heart, Nor ' hrowrC to buy a bit of bread with, — ^let alone a tart. " If there 's a soul will give me food, or find me in employ, By day or night, then blow me tight !" (he was a vulgar Boy;) " And now I 'm here, from this here pier it is my fixed intent To jump, as Mr. Levi did from off the Monu-ment 1" " Cheer up ! cheer up ! my httle man — cheer up !" I kindly said, You are a naughty boy to take such things into your head : If you should jump fi^om off the pier, you 'd surely break your legs. Perhaps your neck — then Bogey 'd have you, sure as eggs are eggs! *' Come home with me, my httle man, come home with me and sup ; My landlady is Mrs. Jones — we must not keep her up — There 's roast potatoes on the fire, — enough for me and you — Come home, — you httle vulgar Boy — I lodge at Number 2.'' I took him home to Number 2, the house beside " The Foy," I bade him wipe his dirty shoes^ — that httle vulgar Boy, — And then I said to Mistress Jones, the kindest of her sex, " Pray be so good as go and fetch a pint of double X 1" But Mrs. Jones was rather cross, she made a httle noise. She said she *' did not like to wait on httle vulgar Boys." She with her apron wiped the plates, and, as she rubb'd the del^ Said I might " go to Jericho, and fetch my beer myself!" I did not go to Jericho — I went to Mr. Cobb — I changed a shilling — (which in town the people call " a Bob") — It was not so much for myself as for that vulgar child — And I said, " A pint of double X, and please to draw it mild I" N ARE ATI VB. 127 When I came back I gazed about — I gazed on stool and chair — I could not see my little friend — because he was not there ! I peep'd beneath the table-cloth — ^beneath the sofa too — I said " You little vulgar Boy 1 why what's become of you?" I could not see my table-spoons — I look'd, but could not see The httle fiddle-pattern'd ones I use when I 'm at tea ; — I could not see my sugar-tongs — my silver watch — oh, dear I I know 't was on the mantle-piece when I went out for beer. I could not see my Mackintosh ! — it was not to be seen ! Nor yet my best wliite beaver hat, broad-brimm'd and lined with green ; My carpet-bag — my cruet-stand, that holds my sauce and soy, — My roast potatoes ! — aU are gone ! — and so 's that vulgar Boy ! I rang the bell for Mrs. Jones, for she was down below, " — Oh, Mrs. Jones ! what do you think ? — ain't this a pretty go ? — That horrid little vulgar Boy whom I brought here to-night, — He's stolen my things and run away! 1" — Says she, "And sarve you right ! !" ******* Next morning I was up betimes — I sent the Crier round. All with his bell and gold-laced hat, to say I 'd give a pound To find that little vulgar Boy, who 'd gone and used me so; But when the Crier cried " Yes !" the people cried, " No!" I went to " Jar vis' Landing-place," the glory of the town. There was a common sailor-man a- walking up and down ; I told my tale — he seem'd to think I 'd not been treated well, And called me " Poor old Buffer !" what that means I cannot telL Tliat sailor-man, he said he 'd seen that morning on the shore, A son of — something — 't was a name I 'd never heard before, A httle " gallows-looking chap" — dear me ; what could he mean? With a " carpet-swab" and " muckingtogs," and a hat turned up with green. He spoke about his " precious eyes," and said he 'd seen him « sheer," — It 's very odd that sailor-men should talk so very queer — And then he hitcli'd his trowsers up, as is, I 'm told, their use, — It 's very odd that sailor-men should wear those tilings so loose. 128 NAKKATIVE. I did not understand him ^vell, but tliink he meant to say- He 'd seen that little vulgar Boy, that morning swim away In Captain Large's Royal George about an hour before, And they were now, as he supposed, '' somewheres'' about ine Nore. A landsman said, " I tivig the chap-^he 's been upon the Mill — And 'cause he gammons so the j^afe, ve calls him Veeping Bill !" He said " he 'd done me wery brown," and " nicely stow'd the swag.'' — That 's French, I fancy, for a hat — or else a carpet-bag. I went and told the constable my property to track ; He asked me if " I did not wish that I might get it back ?" I answered, "To be sure I do! — it's what I come about." He smiled and said, " Sir, does your mother know that you are out?" Not knowing what to do, I thought I 'd hasten back to town. And beg our own Lord Mayor to catch the Boy who 'd " done me brown." His Lordship very kindly said he 'd try and find him out. But he "rather thought that there were several vulgar boys about." He sent for Mr. Whithair then, and I described " the swag," My Mackintosh, my sugar-tongs, my spoons, and carpet-bag ; He promised that the New Police should all their powers employ ; But never to this hour have I beheld that vulgar Boy ! Remember, then, what when a boy I 've heard my Grandma' tell, "Be warn'd in time by others'. harm, and you shall do full WELL !" Don't hnk yourself with vulgar folks, who 've got no fix'd abode, Tell hes, use naughty words, and say they " wish they may be blow'd !" Don't take too much of double X ! — and don't at night go out To fetch your beer yourself, but make the pot-boy bring youi stout ! And when you go to Margate next, just stop and ring the bell, Give my respects to Mrs. Jones, and say I 'm pretty well 1 NARRATIVE, 129 THE GHOST. R. HARRIS BARHAlf There stands a City, — neither large nor small, Its air and situation sweet and pretty ; It matters very little — ^if at all — Whether its denizens are dull or witty. Whether the ladies there are short or tall. Brunettes or blondes, only, there stands a city I— Perhaps 'tis also requisite to minute That there's a Castle, and a Cobbler in it. A fair Cathedral, too, the story goes, And kings and heroes lie entombed within her ; There pious Saints, in marble pomp repose, Whose shrines are worn by knees of many a Sinner; There, too, full many an Aldermanic nose Roll'd its loud diapason after dinner ; And there stood high the holy sconce of Becket, — Till four assassins came from France to crack it The Castle was a huge and antique mound. Proof against all th' artillery of the quiver, Ere those abominable guns were found. To send cold lead through gallant warrior's Hver. It stands upon a gently rising gi'ound, Sloping down gradually to the river. Resembling (to compare great things with smaller) A well-scooped, moldy Stilton cheese — but taller. The Keep, I find, 's been sadly alter'd lately. And 'stead of mail-clad knights, of honor jealous, In martial panoply so grand and stately. Its walls are filled with money-making fellows, And stuflfd, unless I 'm misinformed greatly. With leaden pipes, and coke, and coal, and bellows; In short, so great a change has come to pass, 'Tis now a manufactory of CJ-as. 6* 130 NARRATIYE. But to my tale. — Before this profanation, And ere its ancient glories were cut short all^ A poor hard-working Cobbler took his station In a small house, just opposite the portal ; His birth, Lis parentage, and education, I know bat little of — a strange, odd mortal ; His aspect, air, and gait, were all ridiculous ; His name was Mason — he 'd been christened Nicholaa Nick had a wife possessed of many a charm, And of the Lady Huntingdon persuasion ; But, spite of all her piety, her arm She 'd sometimes exercise when in a passion; And, being of a temper somewhat warm, Would noW and then seize, upon small occasion, A stick, or stool, or any thing that round did lie, And baste her lord and master most confoundedly. No matter ; — 'tis a thing that's not uncommon, 'Tis what we all have heard, and most have read of,-^ I mean, a bruising, pugilistic woman. Such as I own I entertain a dread of, — And so did Nick, — whom sometimes there would come on A sort of fear his Spouse might knock his head off, Demohsh half his teeth, or drive a rib in. She shone so much in " facers" and in "fibbing." " There 's time and place for all things," said a sage (King Solomon, I think), and this I can say. Within a well-roped ring, or on a stage. Boxing may be a very pretty Fancy ^ When Messrs. Burke or Bendigo engage ; — 'Tis not so well in Susan or in Nancy : — To get well null'd by any one's an evil, But by a lady — 'tis the very Devil. And so thought Nicholas, whose only trouble (At least his worst) was this, his rib's propensity ; For sometimes from the ale-house he would hobble, His senses lost in a subUme immensity Of cogitation — then he could n't cobble — And then his wife would often try the density Of his poor skull, and strike with all her might, As fast as kitchen wenches strike a hght. NARKATIVE. 181 Mason, meek soul, who ever hated strife, Of this same striking had a morbid dread, He hated it hke poison — or his wife — A vast antipathy ! — but so he said — And very often, for a quiet hfe, On these occasions he 'd sneak up to bed, Grope darkhng in, and soon as at the door He heard his lady — he 'd pretend to snore. One night, then, ever partial to society, Nick, with a friend (another jovial fellow), Went to a Club — I should have said Society — At the " City Arms," once call'd the " Porto Belle ;" A Spouting party, which, though some decry it, I Consider no bad lounge when one is mellow ; There they discuss the tax on salt, and leather. And change of ministers and change of weather. In short, it was a kind of British Forum, Like John G-ale Jones', erst in Piccadilly, Only th^y managed things with more decorum, And the Orations were not quite so sUly ; Far different questions, too, would come before 'em Not always pohtics, which, wiU ye nill ye. Their London prototypes were always wilhng. To give one quantum suff. of — ^for a sliilling. It more resembled one of later date. And tenfold talent, as I 'm told, in Bow-street, Where kindUer nurtured souls do congregate. And, though there are who deem that same a low street, Yet, I 'm assured, for frohcsome debate And genuine humor it 's surpassed by no street, Whf^n the " Chief Baron" enters, and assumes To "rule" o'er mimic " Thesigers" and " Broughams." Here they would oft forget their Rulers' faults. And waste in ancient lore the midnight taper, Inquire if Orpheus first produced the Waltz, How Gras-lights differ from the Delphic Vapor. Whether Hippocrates gave Glauber's Salts, And what the Romans wrote on ere they'd paper,— This night the subject of their disquisitions Was Ghosts, HobgobHns, Sprites, and Apparitions. 132 NAERATIVIL. One learned gentleman, " a sage grave man," Talk'd of the Ghost in Hamlet, " sheath'd in steel :"- His well-read friend, who next to speak began, Said, " That was Poetry, and nothing real ;" A third, of more extensive learning, ran To Sir George Villiers' Ghost, and Mrs. Yeal ; Of sheeted Specters spoke with shorten'd breath, And thrice he quoted " Drelincourt on Death." Nick, smoked, and smoked, and trembled as he heard The point discuss'd, and all they said upon it, How frequently some murder'd man appear'd, To teU his wife and children who had done it; Or how a Miser's Ghost, with grisly beard. And pale lean visage, in an old Scotch bonnet, Wander'd about to watch his buried money ! When all at once Nick heard the clock strike One — ^he Sprang from his seat, not doubting but a lecture Impended from his fond and faithful She ; Nor could he well to pardon liim expect her, For he had promised to "be home to tea;" But having luckily the key o' the back door, He fondly hoped that, unperceived, he Might creep up stairs again, pretend to doze, And hoax his spouse with music from his nose. Vain fruitless hope ! — The wearied sentinel At eve may overlook the crouching foe. Till, ere his hand can sound the alarum-beU, He sinks beneath the unexpected blow ; Before the whiskers of Grimalkin fell, When slumb'ring on her post, the mouse may go,— But woman, wakeful woman, 's never weary, — Above aU, when she waits to thump her deary. Soon Mrs. Mason heard the well-known tread ; She heard the key slow creaking in the door, Spied through the gloom obscure, toward the bed Nick creeping soft, as oft he had crept before ; When, bang, she threw a something at his head, And Nick at once lay prostrate on the floor ; While she exclaim'd with her indignant face on, — " How dare you use your wife so, Mr. Mason ?" XAKRATIVE. 133 Spare we to tell how fiercely she debated, Especially the length of her oration, — Spare we to tell how Nick expostulated, Eoused by the bump into a good set passion, So great, that more than once he execrated, Ere he crawl'd into bed in his usual fashion ; — The Muses hate brawls ; suffice it then to say, He duck'd below the clothes — and there he lay : 'T was now the very witcliing time of night, When church-yards groan, and graves give up their dead, And many a mischievous, enfranchised Sprite Had long since burst his bonds of stone or lead, And hurried ofij with schoolboy-like delight, To play his pranks near some poor wretch's bed, Sleeping, perhaps, serenely as a porpoise, Nor dreaming of this fiendish Habeas Corpus. Not so our Nicholas, his meditations Still to the same tremendous theme recurred, The same dread subject of the dark narrations. Which, back'd with such authority, he 'd heard; Lost in liis own horrific contemplations, He pondered o'er each well-remembered word ; When at the bed's foot, close beside the post, He verily beheved he saw — a G-host ! Plain and more plain the unsubstantial Sprite To his astonish'd gaze each moment grew ; Ghastly and gaunt, it rear'd its shadowy height, Of more than mortal seeming to the view, And round its long, tliin, bony fingers drew A tatter'd winding-sheet, of course all white / — The moon that moment peeping through a cloud, Nick very plainly saw it through the shroud I And -_ow those matted locks, which never yet Had yielded to the comb's unkmd divorce, Their long-contracted amity forget. And spring asunder with elastic force ; Nay, e'en the very cap, of texture coarse. Whose ruby cincture crown' d that brow of jet, Uprose in agony — tlie Grorgon's head Was but a type of Nick's up-squatting in the becL 134 NARRATIVE. From every pore distill'd a clammy dew, Quaked every limb, — the candle too no doubt, En regie, would have burnt extremely blue. But Nick unluckily had put it out ; And he, though naturally bold and stout, In short, was in a most tremendous stew ; — The room was fill'd with a sulphureous smeU, But where that came from Mason could not tell. All motionless the Specter stood, — and now Its reverend form more clearly shone confest ; Prom the pale cheek a beard of purest snow Descended o'er its venerable breast ; The thin gray hairs, that crown'd its furrow'd brow, Told of years long gone by. — An awful guest It stood, and with an action of command. Beckon' d the Cobbler with its wan right hand. " Whence, and what art thou. Execrable Shape ?" Nick might have cried, could he have found a tongue, But his distended jaws could only gape, And not a sound upon the welkin rung . His gooseberry orbs seem'd as they Avould have sprung Porth from their sockets, — hke a frightened Ape He sat upon Ms haunches, bolt upright. And shook, and grinn'd, and chatter'd with afiright. And still the shadowy finger, long and lean. Now beckon' d Nick, now pointed to the door ; And many an ireful glance, and frown, between. The angry visage of the Phantom wore. As if quite vexed that Nick would do no more Than stare, without e'en asking, " What d' ye mean ?*'• Because, as we are told, — a sad old joke too, — Ghosts, like the ladies, " never speak tiU spoke to." Cowards, 'tis said, in certain situations. Derive a sort of courage from despair, And then perform, from downright desperation, Much more than many a bolder man would dare. Nick saw the Ghost was getting in a passion. And therefore, groping till he found the chair, Seized on his awl, crept softly out of bed. And foUow'd quaking where tlie Specter led. NAERATI V^E. ISA And down the winding stair, with noiseless tread, The tenant of tlie tomb pass'd slowly on, Each mazy turning of the humble shed Seem'd to his step at once famihar grown, So safe and sure the labyrinth did he tread As though the domicile had been his own, Though Nick liimself, in passing tnrough the shop, Had almost broke his nose against the mop. Despite its wooden bolt, with jarring sound, The door upon its hinges open flew ; And forth the Spirit issued, — ^yet around It turn'd as if its follower's fears it knew, And once more beckoning, pointed to the mound. The antique Keep, on which the bright moon threw With such effulgence her mild silvery gleam. The visionary form seem'd melting in her beam. Beneath a pond'rous archway's somber shade, Where once the huge portcullis swung sublime, 'Mid ivied battlements in ruin laid. Sole, sad memorials of the olden time. The Phantom held its way, — and though afraid Even of the owls that sung their vesper chime, Pale Nicholas pursued, its steps attending. And wondering what on earth it all would end in. Within the moldering fabric's deep recess At length they reach a court obscure and lone ; It seemed a drear and desolate wilderness, The blackened walls with ivy all o'ergrown ; The night-bird shrieked her note of wild distress, Disturb' d upon her sohtary throne, As though indignant mortal step should dare. So led, at such an hour, should venture there ! — The Apparition paused, and would have spoke, Pointing to what Nick thought an iron ring, But then a neighboring chanticleer awoke. And loudly 'gan his early matins sing And then " it started like a guilty thing,'' As that shrill clarion the silence broke. — We know how much dead gentlefolks eschew The appalling sound of " Cock-a-doodle-do 1" 136 NAKKATIVE, The vision was no more — and Nick alone — " His streamer's waving" in the midnight wind, Which through the ruins ceased not to groan ; — His garment, too, was somewhat short b^nind,- And, worst of all, he knew not where to find The ring, — which made him most his fate bemoan — The iron ring, — no doubt of some trap door, 'Neath which the old dead Miser kept his- store. " What's to be done ?" he cried, " 't were vain to stay Here in the dark without a single clew — Oh, for a candle now, or moonlight ray 1 'Eore George, I 'm sadly puzzled what to do." (Then clapped his hand behind) — " 'Tis chilly too— I '11 mark the spot, and come again by day. What can I mark it by ? — Oh, here 's the wall — The mortar's yielding — ^here I '11 stick my awl !" Then rose from earth to sky a withering shriek, A loud, a long-protracted note of woe, Such as when tempests roar, and timbers creak, And o'er the side the masts in thunder go ; While on the deck resistless billows break, And drag their victims to the gulfs below ; — Such was the scream when, for the want of candle, Nick Mason drove his awl in up to the handle. Scared by his Lady's heart-appalling cry, Vanished at once poor Mason's golden dream — For dream it was ; — and all his visions high, Of wealth and grandeur, fled before that scream — And still he hstens, with averted eye. When gibing neighbors make " the Ghost" their theme While ever from that hour they all declare That Mrs. Mason used a cushion in her chair 1 A LAY OF ST. GENGULPHUS. R. HARRIS BARHAM Qengulphus comes from the Holy Land, With his scrip, and his bottle, and sandal shoon ; Full many a day hath he been away, Yet his lady deems him retimi'd full soon. NARRATIVE. 137 FilI rr.any a day hath lie been away, Yet scarce had he crossed ayont the sea, Ere a spruce young spark of a Learned Clerk Had called on his Lady, and stopp'd to tea. This spruce young guest, so trimly drest, Stay'd with that Lady, her revels to crown; They laugh'd, and they ate, and they dj-ank of the best, And they turn'd the old p-astle quite upside down. They would walk in the park, that spruce young Clerk, With that frohcsome Lady so frank and free. Trying balls and plays, and aU manner of ways. To get rid of what French people call Ennui. H: H< ^ >f: H: ^ 4 Now the festive board with viands is stored. Savory dishes be there, I ween. Rich puddings and big, and a barbacued pig, And ox-tail soup in a China tureen. There 's a flagon of ale as large as a pail — When, cockle on hat, and staff in hand. While on naught they are thinking save eating and drinking, Greugulphus walks in from the Holy Land ! " You must be pretty deep to catch weasels asleep," Says the proverb : that is " take the Fair unawares :" A maid o'er the banisters chancing to peep, Wliispers, " Ma'am, here 's Gengulphus a-coming up-staira.' Pig, pudding, and soup, the electrified group, . With the flagon pop under the sofa in haste, And contrive to deposit the Clerk in the closet, As the d'sh least of all to Grengulphus's taste. Then oh ! *s^hat rapture, what joy was exprest, When " poor dear Gengulphus" at last appear'd ! She kiss'd and she press'd " the dear man" to her breast, In spite of his great, long, frizzly beard." Such hugging and squeezing ! 't was almost unpleasuag, A smile on her lip, and a tear in her eye ; She was so very glad, that she seem'd half mad. And did not know whether to laugh or to cry. 138 NARRATIVE. Then she calls up the maid and the table-cloth 's laid, And she sends for a pint of the best Brown Stout ; On the fire, too, she pops some nice mutton-chops. And she mixes a stiff giass of '' Cold Without." Then again she began at the " poor dear" man ; She press'd him to drink, and she press'd him to eat^ And she brought a foot-pan, with hot water and bran, To comfort his " poor dear" travel-worn fieet " Nor night nor day since he 'd been away. Had she had any rest," she " vow'd and declared." She " never could eat one morsel of meat, For tliinking how ' poor dear' Gengulphus fared." She " really did think she had not slept a wink Since he left her, although he 'd been absent so long," Here he shook his head, — right little he said. But he thought she was " coming it rather too strong." Now his palate she tickles with the chops and the pickleai, Till, so great the effect of that stiff gin grog. His weaken'd body, subdued by the toddy, Falls out of the chair, and he hes hke a log. Then out comes the Clerk from his secret lair ; He lifts up the legs, and she lifts up the head, And, between them, this most reprehensible pair Undress poor Gengulphus and put him to bed. Then the bolster they place athwart his face, And his night-cap into his mouth they cram ; And she pinches his nose underneath the clothes, Till the " poor dear soul" goes off like a lamb. ******* And now they tried the deed to hide ; For a Hitle bird whisper'd " Perchance you may swing ; Here 's a corpse in the case, with a sad swell'd face. And a Medical Crowner 's a queer sort of thing !" So the Clerk and the wife, they each took a knife, And the nippers that nipp'd the loaf-sugar for tea ; With the edges and points they sever'd the joints At the clavicle, elbow, hip, ankle, and knee. NARRATIVE. 130 Thus, limb from limb, they dismember' d him So entirely, that e'en when they came to his wi'ists, With those great sugar-nippers they nipped off his " flippers," As the Clerk, very flippantly, termed liis fists. When they cut off his head, entertaining a dread Lest the folks should remember Gengulphus's face, They determined to throw it where no one could know it, Down the weU, — and the Umbs in some different place. But first the long beard ft-om the chin they shear'd, And managed to stuff that sanctified hair, With a good deal of pushing, all into the cushion That filled up the seat of a large arm-chair. They contriv'd to pack up the trunk in a sack. Which they hid in an osier-bed outside the town. The Clerk bearing arms, legs, and aU on his back, As that vile Mr. Greenacre served Mrs. Brown. But to see now how strangely things sometimes turn out, And that in a manner the least expected ! Who could surmise a man ever could rise ' Who 'd been thus carbonado'd, cut up, and dissected ? No doubt 't would surprise the pupils at Guy's ; I am no unbehever — no man can say that o' me — But St. Thomas himseff would scarce trust his own eyes If he saw such a thing in his School of Anatomy. You may deal as you please with Hindoos and Chinese, Or a Mussulman making his heathen salaam^ or A Jew or a Turk, but it 's rather guess Avork When a man has to do with a Pilgrim or Palmer. 4^ H< :{: ^ H( % * By chance the Prince Bishop, a Royal Divine, Sends his cards round the neighborhood next day, and urges his Wish to receive a snug party to dine. Of the resident clergy, the gentry, and burgesses. At a quarter past five they are all ahve, A.t the palace, for coaches are fast rolling in , A nd to every guest his card had express'd " Half-past" as the houi hx " a greasy chin." 14C NAEKATIVE. Some thirty are seated, and handsomely treated With the choicest Rhine wine in his Highness's stock ; When a Count of the Empire, who felt himself heated, Requested some water to mix with liis Hock. The Butler, who saw it, sent a maid out to draw it But scarce had she given the windlass a twirl, Ere G-engulphus's head, from the well's bottom, said In mild accents, " Do help us out, that 's a good girl 1" Only fancy her dread when she saw a great head In her bucket ; — with fright she was ready to drop : — Conceive, if you can, how she roar'd and she ran. With the head roUing after her, bawling out " Stop !" She ran and she roar'd, till she came to the board Where the Prince Bishop sat with his party around, When Gengulphus's poll, which continued to roll At her heels, on the table bounced up with a bound. Never touching the cates, or the dishes or plates. The decanters or glasses, the sweetmeats or fruits, The head smiles, and begs them to bring his legs, As a well-spoken gentleman asks for his boots. Kicking open the casement, to each one's amazement Straight a right leg steps in, all impediment scorns. And near the head stopping, a left follows hopping Behind, — for the left leg was troubled with corns. Next, before the beholders, two great brawny shoulders. And arms on their bent elbows dance through the throng. While two hands assist; though nipped off at the wrist. The said shoulders in bearing the body along. They march up to the head, not one syllable said. For the thirty guests all stare in wonder and doubt. As the limbs in their sight arrange and unite, Till Gengulphus, though dead, loolcs as sound as a trout I will venture to say, from that hour to this day, Ne'er did such an assembly behold such a scene ; Or a table divide fifteen guests of a side With a dead body placed in the center between. NARKATLVE. 141 Yes, they stared — well they might at so novel a sight * No one utter'd a whisper, a sneeze, or a hem, But sat all bolt upright, and pale with afiright ; And they gazed at the dead man, the dead man at them. The Prince Bishop's Jester, on punning intent, As he view'd the whole thirty, in jocular terms Said " They put him in mind of a Council of Ti^ente Engaged in reviewing the Diet of Worms." But what should they do ? — Oh ! nobody knew 'Whsii was best to be done, either stranger or resident ; The Chancellor's self read his Puffendorf through In vain, for his book could not furnish a precedent. The Prince Bishop mutter'd a curse, and a prayer, Which his double capacity hit to a nicety ; His Princely, or Lay, half induced him to swear. His Episcopal moiety said " Benedicite /" The Coroner sat on the body that night, And the jury agreed, — not a doubt could they harbor,' • " That the chin of the corpse — the sole thing brought to light — Had been recently shav'd by a very bad barber." They sent out Yan Taunsend, Von Biirnie, Von Eoe, Von Maine, and Von Rowantz — through chalets and chateaux, Towns, villages, hamlets, they told them to go, And they stuck up placards on the walls of the Stadthaus. "MURDER! ! "Whereas, a dead gentleman, surname unknown, Has been recently found at his Highness's banquet, Rather shabbily dressed in an Amice, or gown In appearance resembling a second-hand blanket ; " And Whereas, there 's great reason indeed to suspect That some ill-disposed person, or persons, with mahce Aforethought, have kill'd, and begun to dissect The said Gentleman, not far from this palace • 142 NAKKATIVE. " This is to give Xotice ! — Whoever shall seize, And such person or persons, to justice surrender, Shall receive — such Reward — as liis Highness shall please, On conviction of hun, the aforesaid offender. *' And, in order the matter more clearly to trace To the bottom, his Highness, the Prince Bishop, further, Of his clemency, offers free Pardon and G-race To all such as have not been concern'd in the murther. " Done this day, at our palace, — July twenty-five, — By command, (Signed) Johann Von Russell, KB. Deceased rather in years — had a squint when ahve ; And smells slightly of gin — Huen marked with a G." The Newspapers, too, made no httle ado, Though a different version each managed to dish up ; Some said " The Piince Bishop had run a man through," Others said " an assassin had kill'd the Prince Bishop." The " Ghent Herald" fell foul of the " Bruxelles Gazette," The " Bruxelles Gazette," with much sneering ironical, Scorn'd to remain in the " Ghent Herald's" debt, And the " Amsterdam Times" quizz'd the " Nuremberg Chron- icle." In one thing, indeed, all the journals agreed. Spite of " politics," " bias," or " party collision ;" Viz. : to " give," when they 'd " further accounts" of the deed, " Full particulars" soon, in " a later Edition." But now, while on all sides they rode and they ran, Trying all sorts of means to discover the caitiffs. Losing patience, the holy Gengulphus began To think it high time to " astonish the natives." First, a Rittmeister's Frau, who was weak in both eyes. And supposed the most short-sighted woman in Holland, Found greater relief, to her joy and surprise. From one ghmpse of his " squint" than from glasses by Dol- lond- NARRATIYE. 143 By the slightest approach to the tip of his Nose, Meagiims, headac le, and vapors were put to the rout ; And one single touch of his precious Great Toes Was a certain specific for cliillblains and gout. Rheumatics, — sciatica, — tic-douloureux ! Apply to his shin-bones — not one of them lingers ; — All bilious complaints in an instant withdrew. If the patient was tickled with one of his fingers. Much virtue was found to reside in his thumbs : Wlien apphed to the chest, they cured scantness of breathing, Sea-sickness, and colic ; or, rubb'd on the gums, Were " A blessing to Mothers," for infants in teething. Whoever saluted the nape of his neck, Where the mark remain'd visible still of the knife. Notwithstanding east winds perspiration might check, Was safe fi^om sore-throat for the rest of his life. Thus, while each acute and each chronic complaint Giving way, proved an influence clearly Divine, They perceived the dead Gentleman must be a Saint, So they lock'd him up, body and bones, in a shrine. Through country and town his new Saintship's renown As a first-rate physician kept daily increasing, Till, as Alderman Curtis told Alderman Brown, It seem'd as if " Wonders had never done ceasing.^^ The Three Kings of Cologne began, it was known, A sad falling off in their offerings to find. His feats were so many — still the greatest of any, — In every sense of the word^ was — behind • For the German Police were beginning to cease From exertions which each day more fruitless appear' d, When Gengulphus himself, his fame still to increase, Unravell'd the whole by the help of — ^his beard I If you look back you '11 see the aforesaid harhe gris, When divorced from the chin of its murder'd proprietor, Had been stuffed in the seat of a kind of settee. Or double-arm'd chair, to keep the thing quieter. 144 NARRATIVE. It may seem rather strange, that it did not arrange • Itself in its place when the limbs join'd together ; Perhaps it could not get out, for the cusliion was stout, And constructed of good, strong, maroon-color'd leather Or what is more likely, Gengulphus might choose, For saints, e'en when dead, still retain their voMtion, It should rest there, to aid some particular views, Produced by his very pecuhar position. Be that as it may, on the very first day That the widow Gengulphus sat down on that settee, What occur'd almost frightened her senses away. Beside scaring her hand-maidens, Gertrude and Betty. They were telling their mistress the wonderful deeds Of the new Saint, to whom all the Town said their orisons ; And especially how, as regards invalids, His miraculous cures far outrival'd Von Morison's. " The cripples," said they, " fling their crutches away, And people born bMnd now can easily see us !" But she (we presume, a disciple of Hume) Shook her head, and said angrily, " ' Oredat JudcBus /' " Those rascally liars, the Monks and the Friars, To bring grist to their mill, these devices have hit on. He works miracles ! — pooh ! — I 'd beheve it of you Just as soon, you great Geese, — or the Chair that I sit on I" The Chair — at that word — it seems really absurd. But* the truth must be told, — what contortions and grins Distorted her face ! — She sprang up from her place Just as though she'd been sitting on needles and pins I For, as if the Saint's beard the rash challenge had heard Which she utter'd, of what was beneath her forgetful. Each particular hair stood on end in the chair. Like a porcupine's quills when the animal 's fretfuL That stout maroon leather, they pierced altogether, Like tenter-hooks holding when clench' d from within, And the maids cried — " Good gracious ! how very tenacious I" — They a? well migrht endeavor to Dull ofi" her skin I — NARRATIVE. I'tr She shriek'd with the pain, but all efforts were vain ; In vain did thej strain every sinew and muscle, — The cushion stuck fast ! — From that hour to her last She could never get rid of that comfortless " Bustle" I And e'en as Macbeth, when devising the death Of his King, heard " the very stones prate of his wheyeabcw^s ;'* . So this shocking bad wife heard a voice all her hfe Crying "Murder!" resound from the cushion, — or thereabouta With regard to the Clerk, we are left in the dark As to what his fate was ; but I can not imagine he Got off scot-free, though unnoticed it be Both by Ribadaneira and Jacques de Voragine : for cut-throats, we 're sure, can be never secure, And " History's Muse" stiU to prove it her pen holds, As you '11 see, if you '11 look in a rather scarce book, " God's Revenge against Murder" by one Mr. Reynolda Now, you grave married Pilgrims, who wander away, Like Ulysses of old {vide Homer and Kaso), Don't lengthen your stay to three years and a day. And when you are coming home, just write and say so I And you, learned Clerks, who 're not given to roam, Stick close to your books, nor lose sight of decorum , Don't visit a house when the master's from home I Shun drinking, — and study the ^^Vitoe Sanctorum P' Above all, you gay ladies, who fancy neglect In your spouses, allow not your patience to fail ; But remember Gengulphus's wife ! — and reflect On the moral enforced by her terrible tale I 146 NARKATIVE. SIR RUPERT THE FEARLESS. A LEGEND OF GERMANY. R. HARRIS BABHAM. Sni Rupert the Fearless, a gallant young knight, Was equally ready to tipple or fight, Crack a crown, or a bottle, Cut sirloin, or throttle ; In brief, or as Hume says, " to sum up the tottle,'' TJnstain'd by dishonor, unsullied by fear. All his neighbors pronounced liim a 'preux chevalier. Despite these perfections, corporeal and mental. He had one slight defect, viz., a rather lean rental ; Besides, 'tis own'd there are spots in the sun. So it must be confess' d that Sir Rupert had one ; Being rather unthinking, He'd scarce sleep a wink in A night, but addict himself sadly to drinkmg ; And what moralists say, Is as naughty — to play, To Rouge et Noir^ Hazard, Short Whist, Ecarte ; Till these, and a few less defensible fancies Brought the Knight to the end of his slender financea. When at length through his boozing, And tenants refusing Then: rents, swearing " times were so bad they were losing," His steward said, " 0, sir. It's some time ago, sir. Since aught through my hands reach'd the baker or grocer, And the tradesmen in general are grown great complainers." Sir Rupert the brave thus address' d his retainers : " My friends, since the stock Of my father's old hock Is out, with the Kiirchwasser, Bar sac, MoseUe, And we 're fairly reduced to the pump and the well, I presume to suggest. We shall aU find it best For each to shake hands with his friends ere he goes. Mount his horse, if he has one, and — follow liis nose ; NARRATIVE. 147 As to me, I opine, Left sans money or wine, My best way is to throw myself into the Rhine, Where pitying trav'lers may sigh, as they cross over, * Though he lived a roue, yet he died a philosopher.* " The Knight, having bow'd out his friends thus politely. Got into his skiff, the fuU moon shining brightly, By the light of whose beam, He soon spied on the stream A dame, whose complexion was fair as new cream, Pretty pink silken hose Cover'd ankles and toes, In other respects she was scanty of clothes ; For, so says tradition, both written and oral, Her one garment was loop'd up with bunches of coraL Full sweetly she sang to a sparkling guitar, With silver chords stretch'd over Derbyshire spar, And she smiled on the Knight, Who, amazed at the sight. Soon found his astonishment merged in delight ; But the stream by degrees Now rose up to her knees. Till at length it invaded her very chemise. While the heavenly strain, as the wave seem'd to swallow her And slowly she sank, sounded fainter and hollower ; — Jumping up in his boat And discarding his coat, "Here goes," cried Sir Rupert, " by jingo I '11 follow her!" Then into the water he plunged with a souse That was heard quite distinctly by those in the house. Down, down, forty fathom and more from the brink. Sir Rupert the Fearless continues to sink, And, as downward he goes. Still the cold water flows Through his ears, and his eyes, and his mouth, and his nose Till the rum and the brandy he 'd swallow'd since lunch Wanted nothing but lemon to fill him with punch ; Some minutes elapsed since he enter'd the flood. Ere his heels touch'd the bottom, and stuck in the mud. 148 NARRATIVE. But oh ! what a sight Met the eyes of the Knight, When he stood in the depth of the stream bolt upright !- A grand stalactite hall, Like the cave of Fingal, Rose above and about him ; — great fishes and small Came thronging around him, regardless of danger, And seem'd all agog for a peep at the stranger. Their figures and forms to describe, language fails — They 'd such very odd heads, and such very odd tails; Of their genus or species a sample to gain, You would ransack aU Hungerford market in vain ; E'en the famed Mr. Myers, Would scarcely find buyers, Though hundreds of passengers doubtless would stop To stare, were such monsters exposed in his shop. But little reck'd Rupert these queer-looking brutes, Or the efts and the newts That crawled up his boots. For a sight, beyond any of which I 've made mention, In a moment completely absorb'd his attention. A huge crystal bath, which, with water far clearer Than George Robins' filters, or Thorpe's (which are dearer), Have ever distill' d. To the summit was fill'd. Lay stretch'd out before h^n — and every nerve thrOl'd As scores of young women Were diving and swimming, TlU the vision a perfect quandary put him in ; — AU slightly accoutred in gauzes and lawns, They came floating about him like so many prawns. Sir Rupert, who (barring the few peccadilloes Alluded to), ere he lept into the biUows Possess'd irreproachable morals, began To feel rather queer, as a modest young man ; When forth stepp'd a dame, whom he recognized soon As the one he had seen by the light of the moon. And lisp'd, while a soft smile attended each sentence, " Sir Rupert, I 'm happy to make your acquaintance ; NARRATIVE. 149 My name is Lurline, And the ladies you 've seen, All do me the honor to call me their Queen ; I 'm delighted to see you, sir, down in the Rhine here, And hope you can make it convenient to dine here." The Knight blush'd, and bow'd, As he ogled the crowd Of subaqueous bear+ies, then answer' d aloud : " Ma'am, you do me Liuch honor — I can not express The delight I shall feel — if you '11 pardon my dress — May I venture to say, when a gentleman jumps In the river at midnight for want of the ' dumps,' He rarely puts on liis knee-breeches and pumps ; If I could but have guess' d — what I sensibly feel — Your politeness — I 'd not have come en dishabille, But have put on my silk tights in heu of my steel." Quoth the lady, " Dear sir, no apologies, pray, You will take our ' pot-luck' in the family way ; We can give you a dish Of some decentish fish, And our water's thought fairish ; but here in the Rhine, I can't say we pique ourselves much on our wine." The Knight made a bow more profound than before, When a Dory-faced page oped the dining-room door. And said, bending his knee, " Madame, on a servi /" Rupert tender'd his arm, led Lurline to her place, And a fat little Mer-man stood up and said grace. What boots it to tell of the viands, or how she Apologized much for their plain water-souchy, Want of Harvey's, and Cross's, And Burgess's sauces ? Or how Rupert, on his side, protested, by Jove, he Preferr'd his fish plain, without soy or anchovy. Suffice it the meal Boasted trout, perch, and eel. Besides some remarkably fine salmon peel. The Knight, sooth to say, thought much less of the fishes Than what they were served on, the massive gold dishes ; 150 NARRATIVE. While his eye, as it glanced now and then on the girls, Was caught by their persons much less than their pearls, And a thought came across him and caused him to muse, If I could but get hold Of some of that gold, I might manage to pay oflf my rascally Jews I" When dinnei was done, at a sign to the lasses, The table was clear' d, and they put on fresh glasses ; Then the lady addrest Her redoubtable guest Much as Dido, of old, did the pious Eneas, " Dear sir, what induced you to come down and see us ?"- Rupert gave her a glance most bewitcliingly tender, Loll'd back in his chair, put his toes on the fender. And told her outright How that he, a young Knight, Had never been last at a feast or a fight ; But that keeping good cheer Every day in the year. And drinking neat wines all the same as small-beer, Had exliausted his rent. And, liis money aU spent. How he borrow' d large sums at two hundred per cent. ; How they follow' d — and then. The once civilest of men, Messrs. Howard and Gibbs, made him bitterly rue it he 'd ever raised money by way of annuity ; And, his mortgages being about to foreclose. How he jumped into the river to finish his woes I Lurline was afiected, and own'd, with a tear, That a story so mournful had ne'er met her oar : Rupert, hearing her sigh, Look'd uncommonly sly. And said, with some emphasis, " Ah ! miss, had I A few pounds of tliose metals You waste here on kettles, Then, Lord once again Of my spacious domain, A fi-ee Count of the Empire once more I might reign, NAEEATIVE. 161 With Lurline at my side, My adorable bride (Foi the parson should come, and the knot should be tied) ; No couple so happy on earth should be seen As Sir Rupert the brave and his charming Lurline ; Not that money's my object — No, hang it ! I scorn it — And as for my rank — but that you 'd so adorn it — I 'd abandon it all To remain your true thrall, And, instead of ' the Cfreat^' be call'd 'Rupert the Small;" — To gain but your smiles, were I Sardanapalus, I 'd descend from my throne, and be boots at an alehouse." Lurline hung her head Turn'd pale, and then red, Growing faint at this sudden proposal to wed, As though his abruptness, in " popping the question" So soon after dinner, disturb' d her digestion. Then, averting her eye. With a lover-Uke sigh, " You are welcome," she murmur'd in tones most bewitching, " To every utensil I have in my kitchen 1" Upstarted the Knight, Half mad with dehght^ Round her finely-form'd waist He immediately placed One arm, which the lady most closely embraced, Of her lily-white fingers the other made capture, And he press'd his adored to his bosom with rapture. "And, oh 1" he exclaim'd, "let them go catch my skiff, I '11 be home in a twinkling and back in a jrSy, Nor one moment procrastinate longer my journey Than to put up the bans and kick out the attorney." One kiss to her lip, and one squeeze to her hand And Sir Rupert already was half-way to land, For a sour-visaged Triton, With features would frighten Old Nick, caught him up in one hand, though no light one, Sprang up through the waves, popp'd him into his funny. Which some others aheady had half-fill'd with money; 152 NARRATIVE. In fact, 't was so heavily laden with ore Ajid pearls, 't was a mercy he got it to shore ; But Sir Rupert was strong, And while pulling along, Still he heard, faintly sounding, the water-nymphs' song. LAY OP THE NAIADS. " Away ! away ! to the mountain's brow, Where the castle is darkly frowning ; And the vassals, all in goodly row. Weep for their lord a-drowning ! Away ! away ! to the steward's room, Where law with its wig and robe is ; Throw us out John Doe and Richard Roe, And sweetly we'll tickle their tobies I" The unearthly voices scarce had ceased their yelling, When Rupert reach' d his old baronial dwelling. What rejoicing was there ! How the vassals did stare I The old housekeeper put a clean shirt down to air. For she saw by her lamp That her master's was damp. And she fear'd he 'd catch cold, and lumbago, and cramp ; But, scorning what she did. The Knight never heeded Wet jacket, or trousers, or thought of repining. Since their pockets had got such a dehcate hning. But, oh ! what dismay Fill'd the tribe of Ca Sa, When they found he 'd the cash, and intended to pay I Away went ''cognovits,'^ "biUs," "bonds," and "escheats,* Rupert cleared off old scores, and took proper receipts. Now no more he sends out. For pots of brown stout, Or schnapps^ but resolves to do henceforth without, Abjure from this hour aU excess and ebriety. Enroll himself one of a Temp'rance Society, XARRATIVE, 153 All riot eschew, Begin life anew, And new-cusliion and hassock the family pew ! Nay, to strengthen him more in this new mode of life He boldly determined to take him a wife. Now, many would think that the Knight, from a nice sense Of honor, should put Lurhne's name in the license, And that, for a man of his breeding and quahty, To break faith and troth, Confirm'd by an oath, Is not quite consistent with rigid morality ; But whether the nymph was forgot, or he thought her From her essence scarce wife, but at best wife-and~wat6» And declined as unsuited, A bride so diluted — Be this as it may. He, I 'm sorry to say (For, all tilings consider'd, I own 't was a rum thing), Made proposals in form to Miss Una Von — something (Her name has escaped me), sole heiress, and niece To a highly respectable Justice of Peace. " Thrice happy 's the wooing That 's not long a-doing !" So much time is saved in the billing and cooing — The ring is now bought, the wliite favors, and gloves, And all the et cetera whi^ch crown people's loves ; A magnificent bride-cake comes home from the baker, And lastly appears, from the German Long Acre, That shaft which the sharpest in all Cupid's quiver is, A plumb-color' d coach, and rich Pompadour Uveries. 'T was a comely sight To behold the Knight, With his beautiful bride, dress' d aU in white, And the bridemaids fair with their long lace vails, As they all walk'd up to the altar rails. While nice Httle boys, the incense dispensers, March' d in fi-ont with white surplices, bands, and gilt censers. 154 NARRATIVE. With a gracious air, and a smiling look, Mess John had open'd his awful book, ^nd had read so far as to ask if to wed he meant? And if ''he knew any just cause or impediment?" When fi'om base to turret the castle shook ! 1 1 Then came a sound of a mighty rain Dashing against each storied pane. The wind blew loud, And coal-black cloud O'ershadow'd the church, and the party, and crowd; How it could happen they could not divine, The morning had been so remarkably fine I Still the darkness increased, tiU it reach' d such a pass That the sextoness hasten'd to turn on the gas ; But harder it pour'd, And the thunder roar'd. As if heaven and earth were coming together ; None ever had witness'd such terrible weather. Now louder it crash' d, And the lightning flash' d. Exciting the fears Of the sweet httle dears In the vails, as it danced on the brass chandeliers ; The parson ran off, though a stout-hearted Saxon, When he found that a flash had set fire to his caxon. Though all the rest trembled, as might be expected, Sir Eupert was perfectly cool and collected, And endeavor' d to cheer His bride, in her ear Whisp'ring tenderly, " Pray don't be fi:-ighten'd, my deaf' Should it even set fire to the castle, and burn it, you 're Amply insured, both for buildings and furniture." But now, from without, A trustworthy scout Rush'd hurriedly in. Wet through to the skin. Informing his master "the river was rising, And flooding the grounds in a way quite surprising.** NARRATIVE. 15o He 'd no time to say more, For already the roar Of the waters was heard as they reach'd the church-door, While, liigh on the first wave that roll'd in, was seen, Riding proudly, the form of the angry LurUne ; And all might observe, by her glance fierce and stormy, She was stung by the spretce injuria formcB. What she said to the Knight, what she said to the bride, What she said to the ladies who stood by her side, What she said to the nice little boys in Avhite clothes, Oh, nobody mentions — for nobody knows ; For the roof tumbled in, and the walls tumbled out, And the folks tumbled down, all confusion and rout, The rain kept on pouring, The flood kept on roaring. The billows and water-nymphs roU'd more and more in ' Ere the close of the day All was clean wash'd away — One only survived who could hand down the news, A little old woman that open'd the pews ; She was borne off, but stuck. By the greatest good luck, In an oak-tree, and there she hung, crying and screaming, And saw all the rest swallow'd up the wild stream in ; In vain, aU the week, Did the fishermen seek For the bodies, and poke in each cranny and creek ; In vain was their search After aught in the church. They caught nothing but weeds, and perhaps a few perch. The Humane Society Tried a variety Of methods, and brought down, to drag for the wreck, tackles, But they only fished up the clerk's tortoise-sheU spectacles. MORAL. This tale has a moral. Ye youths, oh, beware Of liquor, and how you run after the fair ! Shun playing at sliorts — avoid quarrels and jars — And don't take to smoking those nasty cigars! 156 NARRATIVE. — Let no run of bad-luck, or despair for some Jewess-eyed Damsel, induce you to contemplate suicide ! Don't sit up much later than ten or eleven ! — Be up in the morning by half after seven ! Keep from flirting — nor risk, warn'd by Rupert's miscarriage, An action for breach of a promise of marriage ; — Don't fancy odd fishes ! Don't prig silver dishes ! And to sum up the whole, in the shortest phrase I know, Beware of the Rhine, and take care of the Rhino 1 LOOK AT THE CLOCK. R. HARRIS BARHAM. " Look at the Clock 1" quoth Winifred Pryce, As she opened the door to her husband's knock. Then paused to give him a piece of advice, " You nasty Warmint, look at the Clock 1 Is this the way, you Wretch, every day you Treat her who vow'd to love and obey you ? — Out all night! Me in a fright ! Staggering home as it 's just getting light I You intoxified brute ! — you insensible block ! — Look at the Clock ! — Do ! — Look at the Clock 1 Winifred Pryce was tidy and clean, Her gown was a flower'd one, her petticoat green, Her buckles were bright as her milkiug-caus. Her hat was a beaver, and made like a man's ; Her Uttle red eyes were deep set in then socket-holes, Her gown-tail was turn'd up, and tuck'd tln-ough the^ocket- holes ; A face like a ferret Betoken' d her spirit : To con:lude, Mrs. Pryce was not over young, Had very short legs, and a very long tongue. NARRATIVE. 157 Now David Pryce Had one darling vice ; Remarkably partial to any thing nice, Nought that was good to him pame amiss, Whether to eat, or to drink or to kiss 1 Especially ale — If it was not too stale I really believe he 'd have emptied a pail ; Not that in Wales They talk of their Ales : To pronounce the word they make use of might trouble you, Being spelt with a C, two R's, and a W. That particular day, As I 've heard people say, Mr. David Pryce had been soaking his clay. And amusing himself with his pipe and cheroots. The whole afternoon at the Groat-in-Boots, With a couple more soakers, Thoroughbred smokers, Both, hke liimself, prime singers and jokers ; And, long after day had drawn to a close. And the rest of the world was wrapp'd in repose. They were roaring out " Shenkin !" and " Ar hydd y nos ;" While David himself, to a Sassenach tune. Sang, " We've drunk down the Sun, boys! let's drink dcwu the Moon ! What have we with day to do ? Mrs. Winifred Pryce, 't was made for you !" — At length, when they could n't well drink any more, Old " Goat-in-Boots" showed them the door: And then came that knock. And the sensible shock David felt when his wife cried, " Look at the Clock I" For the hands stood as crooked as crooked might be, The long at the Twelve, and the short at the Three I That self-same clock had long been a bone Of contention between this Darby and Joan ; And often, among their pother and rout. When tliis otherwise amiable couple fell out, 15S NAEKATIVE. Pryce would drop a cool hint, With an ominous squint At its case, of an " Uncle" of liis, who 'd a " Spout." That horrid word " Spout" No sooner came out Thau ^V inifred Pryce would turn her about, And with scorn on her Hp, And a hand on each hip, " Spout" herself till her nose grew red at the tip, " You thundering Willin, I know you 'd be killing Your wife, — ay, a dozen of wives, — for a shilling I You may do what you please. You may sell my chemise (Mrs. P. was too well-bred to mention her stock). But I never will part with my Grrandinother s Clock !' Mrs. Pryce's tongue ran long and ran fast, But patience is apt to wear out at last, And David Pryce in temper was quick, So he stretch' d out his hand, and caught hold of a stick ; Perhaps in its use he might mean to be lenient. But walking just then was n't very convenient, So he threw it, instead, Direct at her head ; It knock'd off her hat ; Down she fell flat ; Her case, perhaps, was not much mended by that : But whatever it was, — whether rage and pain Produced apoplexy, or burst a vein, Or her tumble induced a concussion of brain, I can't say for certain, — but this I can. When sober'd by fright, to assist her he ran, Mrs Winifred Pryce was dead as Queen Anne I The fatal catastrophe Named in my last strophe As adding to grim Death's exploits such a vast trophy, Made a great noise ; and the shocking fatahty. Ran over, Uke wild-fire, the whole Principahty. And then came Mr. Ap Thomas, the Coroner, With his jury to sit, some dozen or more, on her. NAKRATIVE. 160 Mr. Pryce to commence His " ingenious defense," Made a ''powerful appeal" to the jury's "good sense," " The world he must defy Ever to justify Any presumption of ' Mahce Prepense ;' " — The unlucky lick From the end of his stick He " deplored" — he was " apt to be rather too quick;"— But, really, her prating Was so aggravating : Some trifling correction was just what he meant ; — all The rest, he assured them, was " quite accidental 1" Then he calls IMr. Jones, Who depones to her tones, And her gestures and hints about " breaking his bones." While Mr. Ap Morgan, and Mr. Ap Ehys Declared the deceased Had styled him " a Beast," And swear they had witness'd, with grief and surprise, The allusion she made to his limbs and his eyes. The jury, in fine, having sat on the body The whole day, discussing the case, and gin-toddy, Return'd about half-past eleven at night The following verdict, " We find, Sarve her right /" Mr. Pryce, Mrs. Winifred Pryce being dead, Felt lonely, and moped ; and one evening he said He would marry Miss Davis at once in her stead. Not far from his dwelling, From the vale proudly swelling. Pose a mountain ; it 's name you 'U excuse me from telling, For the vowels made use of in Welsh are so few That the A and the E, the I, 0, and the U, Have really but Httle or nothing to do ; And the duty, of course, falls the heavier by far, On the L, and the H, and the K, and the R, Its first syllable " Pen," Is pronounceable ; — then Come two L L's, and two H H's, two F F's, and an N; 1(50 NARRATIVE About half a score R's and some Ws follow, "Beating aU my best efforts a.t euphony hollow : But we shan't have to mention it often, so when We do, with your leave, we '11 curtail it to " Pen." Well — the moon shone bright Upon " Pen" that night. When Pryce, being quit of his fuss and his fright, Was scaling its side With that sort of stride A man puts out when walking in search of a bride Mounting higher and higher. He began to perspire, Till, finding his legs were beginning to tire, And feeling opprest By a pain in his chest, He paus'd, and turn'd round to take breath, and to rest; A walk aU up hiU is apt, we know, To make one, however robust, puff and blow, So he stopp'd, and look'd down on the valley below. O'er feU, and o'er fen, Over mountain and glen, AU bright in the moonshine, his eye roved, and then AU the Patriot rose in his soul, and he thought CTpon Wales, and her glories, and aU he 'd been taught Of her Heroes of old, So brave and so bold, — Of her Bards with long beards, and harps mounted in gold ; Of King Edward the First, Of memory accurst ; And the scandalous manner in which he behaved, KilUng Poets by dozens, With their uncles and cousins, Of whom not one in fifty had ever been shaved — Of the Court BaU, at which, by a lucky mishap, Owen Tudor feU into Queen Katherine's lap ; And how Mr. Tudor, Successfully woo'd her, TiU the Dowager put on a new wedding ring, And so made him Father-in law to the King. NARRATIVE. 161 Ee thought upon Arthur, and MerHn of yore, On Gryffith ap Conan, and Owen Grlendour; On Pendragon, and Heaven knows how many more. He thought of all this, as he gazed, in a trice, Oh all things, in short, but the late Mrs. Pryce ; When a lumbering noise from behind made him start, And sent the blood back in fuU tide to his heart, Wliich went pit-a-pat As he cried out " What 's that ?"— That very queer sound ? — Does it come from the ground ? Or the air, — from above, — or below, — or around ? — It is not like Talking, It is not Hke Wallving, It 's not like the clattering of pot or of pan, Or the tramp of a horse, — or the tread of a man, — Or the hum of a crowd, — or the shouting of boys, — It 's really a deuced odd sort of a noise ! Not unlike a cart's, — but that can't be ; — for when Could " all the King's horses, and all the Eling's men," With Old Nick for a wagoner, drive one up " Pen ?" Pryce, usually brimful of valor when drunk. Now experienced what school-boys denominate " fimki * In vain he look'd back On the Avhole of the track He had traversed ; a thick cloud, uncommonly black. At this moment obscured the broad disc of the moon, And did not i eem likely to pass away soon ; While clearer and clearer, 'T was plain to the hearer, Be the noise what it might, it drew nearer and nearer, And sounded, as Pryce to this moment declares, Very much " Uke a coffin a-walking up stairs." Mr. Pryce had begun To " make up" for a run, As in such a companion he saw no great fun. When a single bright ray Shone out on the way He had passed, and he saw, with no httle dismay. Coming after him, bounding o'er crag and o'er rock. The deceased Mrs. Winifred's *' Grandmother's Clock 1 I^ 162 NARRATIVE. 'T was so ! — it had certainly moved from its place, And come, lumbering on thus, to hold him in chase ; 'T was the very same Head, and the very same Case, And nothing was altered at all — ^but the Face ! In that he perceived, with no Kttle surprise. The two little winder-holes turn'd into eyes Blazing with ire, Like two coals of fire ; And the " Name of the Maker" was changed to a Lip, And the Hands to a Nose with a very red tip. No ! — ^he could not mistake it, — 't was She to the life I The identical face of his poor defunct Wife ! One glance was enough Completely " Quant, suf." As the doctors write down when they send you their " stuff,"-- Like a Weather-cock wlurled by a vehement puff, David turned himself round ; Ten feet of ground He clear'd, in his start, at the very first bound I I Ve seen people run at West End Fair for cheeses — I 've seen Ladies run at Bow Fair for chemises — At Greenwich Fair twenty men run for a hat, And one fi^om a Baihff much faster than that — At foot-ball I 've seen lads run after the bladder — I 've seen Irish Bricklayers run up a ladder — I 've seen Httle boys run away from a cane — And I ' ve seen (that is, read of) good running in Spain ; But I never did read Of, or witness such speed As David exerted that evening. — Indeed All I have ever heard of boys, women, or men. Falls far short of Pryce, as he ran over " Pen !" He reaches its brow, — He has past it, — and now Having once gained the summit, and managed to cross it, he Rolls down the side with uncommon velocity ; But, run as he will. Or roll down the hiU, That bugbear behind him is after him still ' NARRATIVE. 163 And close at his heels, not at all to his liking, The terrible clock keeps on ticking and striking. Till, exhausted and sore. He can't run any more, But falls as he reaches Miss Davis's door, And screams when they rush out, alarm'd at his knock, " Oh ! Look at the Clock !— Do I— Look at the Clock ! I" Miss Davis look'd up, Miss Davis look'd down. She saw nothing there to alarm her ; — a frown Came o'er her white forehead, She said, '^ It was horrid A man should come knocking at that time of night, And give her Mamma and herself such a fright ; — To squall and to bawl About nothing at all !" She begg'd " he 'd not think of repeating his call j His late wife's disaster By no means had past her," She 'd " have him to know she was meat for his Master !" Then regardless ahke of liis love and his woes. She turn'd on her heel and she turn'd up her nose. Poor David in vain Implored to remain. He " dared not," he said, " cross the mountain again." Why the feir was obdurate None knows, — to be sure it Was said she was setting her cap at the Curate ; — Be that as it may, it is certain the sole hole Pryce found to creep into that night was the Coal-hole I In that shady retreat With nothing to eat And with very bruised limbs, and with very sore feet, All night close he kept ; I can't say he slept ; But he sigh'd, and he sobb'd, and he groan' d, and he wept; Lamenting his sins. And his two broken shins, Bewailing his fate with contortions and grins, And her he once thought a complete Rara Avis, Consigning to Satan, — viz., cruel Miss Davis'' 164 NARRATIVE. Mr. David has since had a " serious call," He never drinks ale, wine, or spirits, at all, And they say he is going to Exeter Hall To make a grand speech, And to preach, and to teach People that " they can't brew their malt liquor too small I" That an ancient Welsh Poet, one Pyndar ap Tudor, Was right in proclaiming " Ariston men Udor I" Wliich means " The pure Element Is for Man's belly meant !" And that Gfin 's but a Snare of Old Nick the deluder I And " still on each evening when pleasure fills up," At the old Goat-in-Boots, with Metheglin, each cup, Mr. Pryce, if he 's there, WiU get into '' The Chair," And make all his quondam associates stare By calling aloud to the Landlady's daughter, " Patty, bring a cigar, and a glass of Spring Water I" The dial he constantly watches ; and when The long hand 's at the " XII.," and the short at the " X«' He gets on his legs. Drains his glass to the dregs, Takes his hat and great-coat off their several pegs. With his President's hammer bestows his last knock, And Bays solemnly — " Gentlemen ! Look at the Clock I ! f" THE BAGMAN'S DOG. R. HARRIS BARHAML Stant littore Puppies 1—Virqiu It was a litter, a litter of five. Four are drown' d, and one left alive, He was thought worthy alone to survive ; And the Bagman resolved upon bringing him up, To eat of his bread, and to drink of his cup, He was such a dear little cock-tail'd pup I NARRATIVE. 165 The Bagman taught him many a trick ; He would carry, and fetch, and run after a stick, He could well understand The word of command, And appear to doze With a crust on his nose Till the Bagman permissivcly waved his hand : Then to throw up and catch it he never would fail, As he sat up on end, on his little cock-taU. Never was puppy so hien instruit, Or possessed of such natural talent as he ; And as he grew older. Every beholder Agreed he grew handsomer, sleeker, and bolder. Time, however his wheels we may clog. Wends steadily still with onward jog, And the cock-tail'd puppy 's a curly-tail'd dog 1 When, just at the time He was reaching his prime, A.nd all thought he 'd be turning out something sublime, One unlucky day, How no one could say, WTiether soft liaison induced him to stray, Or some kidnapping vagabond coaxed him away, He was lost to the view, Like the morning dew ; — He had been, and was not — that 's all that they knew And the Bagman storm'd, and the Bagman swore As never a Bagman had sworn before ; But storming or swearing but Uttle avails To recover lost dogs with great curly tails. In a large paved court, close by Billiter Square, Stands a mansion, old, but in thorough repair. The only thing strange, from the general air Of its size and appearance, is how it got there ; In front is a short semicircular stair Of stone steps — some half score — Then you reach the ground floor. With a shell-pattern' d architrave over tiae door. 166 NARRATIVE. It is spacious, and seems to be built on the plan Of a Gentleman's house in the time of Queen Anne ; Which is odd, for, although As we very well know, Under Tudors and Stuarts the City could show Many Noblemen's seats above Bridge and below, Yet that fashion soon after induced them to go From St, Michael Cornhill, and St. Mary-le-Bow, To St. James, and St. George, and St. Anne in Soho.— >^ Be this as it may — at the date I assign To my tale — that 's about Seventeen Sixty-Nine-^ This mansion, now rather upon the dechne, Had less dignified owners — belonging, in fine, To Turner, Dry, Weipersyde, Rogers, and Pyne — A respectable House in the Manchester hne. There were a score Of Bagmen, and more, Who had travel'd full oft for the firm before , But just at this period they wanted to send- Some person on whom they could safely depend — A trust-worthy body, half agent, half friend — On some mercantile matter, as far as Ostend ; And the person they pitch' d on was Anthony Blogg A grave, steady man, not addicted to grog — The Bagman, in short, who had lost the great dog. •t* T* ^ •!• •1' T* " The Sea! the Sea! the open Sea!— That is the place where we all wish to be, Rolling about on it merrily !" So all sing and say By night and by day, In the 'boudoir^ the street, at the concert, and play. In a sort of coxcombical roundelay ; — You may roam through the City, transversely or straight, From Whitechapel turnpike to Cumberland gate, And every young Lady who thrums a guitar, Ev'ry mustached Shopman who smokes a cigar, With affected devotion Promulgates his notion Of being a " Rover" and " Child of the Ocean"— NARRATIVE. 167 Whate'er their age, sex, or condition may be, They all of them long for the " Wide, Wide Sea I" But, however they dote, Only set them afloat In any craft bigger at all than a boat. Take them down to the Nore, And you '11 see that, before The " Wessel" they " Woyage" in has made half her way Between Shell-Ness Point and the pier at Heme Bay, Let the wind meet the tide in the slightest degree, They '11 be all of them heartily sick of " the Sea I" ****** I 've stood m Margate, on a bridge of size Inferior far to that described by Byron, Where " palaces and pris'ns on each hand rise — ^" — That too 's a stone one, this is made of iron — And little donkey-boys your steps environ. Each proffering for your choice his tiny hack, Vaunting its excellence ; and, should you liire one, For sixpence, will he urge, with frequent thwack, The much-enduring beast to Buenos Ayres — and back And there, on many a raw and gusty day, I 've stood, and turn'd my gaze upon the pier, And seen the crews, that did embark so gay That self-same morn, now disembark so queer ; Then to myself I 've sigh'd and said, " Oh dear I Who would beheve yon sickly-looking man 's a London Jack Tar — a Cheapside Buccaneer I — " But hold, my Muse ! — ^for tliis terrific stanza Is all too stiffly grand for our Extravaganza. * * * * * " So now we 'tl go up, up, up, And now we '11 go down, down, down, And now we 'U go backward and forward, And now we '11 go roun', roun', roun'." — — ^I hope you 've sufficient discernment to see, Gentle Reader, that here the discarding the d Is a fault which you must not attribute to me ; Thus my ISTurse cut it off when, " with counterfeit glee," She sung, as she danced me about on her knee, 168 NARIIATIVE. In the year of our Lord eighteen hundred and three : All I mean to say is, that the Muse is now free From the self-imposed trammels put on by her betters, And no longer like Filch, midst the felons and debtors, At Drury Lane, dances her hornpipe in fetters. Resuming her track, At once she goes back To our hero, the Bagman — Alas I and Alack ! Poor Anthony Blogg Is as sick as a dog. Spite of sundry unwonted potations of grog, By the time the Dutch packet is fairly at sea. With the sands called the Goodwins a league on her lee. And now, my good friends, I 've a fine opportunity To obfuscate you all by sea terms with impunity. And talking of " calking," And " quarter-deck walking," " Fore and aft," And "abaft," " Hookers," " barkeys," and " craft," (At which Mr. Poole has so wickedly laughed). Of binnacles — bilboes — the boom call'd the spanker, The best bower-cable — the jib — and sheet-anchor ; Of lower-deck guns — and of broadsides and chases. Of taffrails and topsails, and splicing main-braces. And " Sliiver my timbers !" and other odd phrases Employ'd by old pilots with hard-featured faces ; — Of the expletives sea-faring Gentlemen use, The allusions they make to the eyes of then- crews; — How the Sailors, too, swear, How they cherish their hair, And what very long pigtails a great many wear. — But, Reader, I scorn it — the fact is, I fear. To be candid, I can't make these matters so clear As Marryat, or Cooper, or Captain Chamier, Or Sir E. Lytton Bulwer, who brought up the rear Of the " Nauticals," just at the end of the year Eighteen thirty-nine — (how Time flies ! — Oh, dear I) — With a well- written preface, to make it appear That his play, the " Sea-Captain," 's by no means small beer; NARRATIVE. 169 There ! — " brought up the rear" — you see there 's a mistake Which none of the authors I 've mentioned would make, I ought to have said, that he " sail'd in their wake." — So I '11 merely observe, as the water grew rougher The more my poor hero continued to suffer. Till the Sailors themselves cried, in pity, " Poor Buffer 1" Still rougher it grew, And still harder it blew. And the thunder kick'd up such a hullibaUoo, That even the Skipper began to look blue ; While the crew, who were few, Look'd very queer, too. And seem'd not to know what exactly to do, And they who 'd the charge of them wrote in the logs, " Wind N. E. — blows a hurricane — rains cats and dogs." In short it soon grew to a tempest as rude as That Shakspeare describes near the " still vex'd Bermudas." When the winds, in their sport. Drove aside from its port The King's ship, with the whole Neapolitan Court, And swamp'd it to give " the King's Son, Ferdinand," a Soft moment or two with the Lady Miranda, While her Pa met the rest, and severely rebuked 'em For unhandsomely doing him out of his Dukedom. You don't want me, however, to paint you a Storm, As so many have done, and in colors so warm ; Lord Byron, for instance, in manner facetious, Mr. Ainsworth, more gravely, — see also Lucretius, — A writer who gave me no trifling vexation When a youngster at school, on Dean Colet's foundation. — Suffice it to say That the whole of that day. And the next, and the next, they were scudding away Quite out of their course, Propell'd by the force Of those flatulent folks known in Classical story as Aquilo, Libs, Notus, Auster, and Boreas, Driven quite at their mercy 'Twixt Guernsey and Jersey, Till at length they came bump on the rocks and the shallowa In West longtitude, One, fifty-seven, near St. Maloes ; 8 170 NARRATIVE. There you will not be surprised That the vessel capsized, Or that Blogg, who had made, from intestine commotioiis, His specific gravity less than the Ocean's, Should go floating away, 'Mid the surges and spray, Like a cork in a gutter, which, swoll'n by a shower, Runs down Holborn-hill about nine knots an hour. You 've seen, I 've no doubt, at Bartholomew fair, Gentle Reader, — that is, if you Ve ever been there, — With their hands tied behind them, some two or tliree pjur Of boys round a bucket set up on a chair. Skipping, and dipping Eyes, nose, chin, and hp in, Their faces and hair with the water all dripping, In an anxious attempt to catch hold of a pippin, That bobs up and down in the water whenever They touch it, as mocking the fruitless endeavor ; Exactly as Poets say, — ^how, though, they can't tell us, — Old Nick's Nonpareils play at bob with poor Tantalus, — Stay ! — I 'm not clear. But I 'm rather out here ; 'T was the water itself that sUpp'd from him, I fear ; Faith, I can't recollect, and I have n't Lempriere. — No matter, — poor Blogg went on ducking and bobbing, Sneezing out the salt water, and gulping and sobbing. Just as Clarence, in Shakspeare, describes all the qualms he Experienced while dreaming they 'd drown'd him in Malmsey. " Lord," he thought, "what pain it was to drown !" And saw great fishes with great gogghng eyes, Glaring as he was bobbing up and down. And looking as they thought him quite a prize ; When, as he sank, and all was growing dark, A sometliing seized him with its jaws ! — A shark ? — No such thing. Reader : — most opportunely for Blogg, 'T was a very large, web-footed, curly-taU'd Dog I ^ ^ 4: ^ ^ ^ 'tt 1 'm not much of a trav'ler, and really can't boast That I know a great deal of the Brittany coast, NARRATIVE. 1^1 But I 've often heard say That e'en to this day, The people of Granville, St. Maloes, and thereabout, Are a class that society does n't much care about ; Men who gain their subsistence by contraband dealing, And a mode of abstraction strict people call " steaHng;" Notwithstanding all which, they are civil of speech. Above all to a stranger who comes within reach ; And they were so to Blogg, When the curly-tail'd Dog At last dragged liim out, high and dry on the beach. But we all have been told. By the proverb of old. By no means to think " all that ghtters is gold ;'' And, in fact, some advance That most people in France Join the manners and air of a Maitre de Banse, To the morals — (as Johnson of Chesterfield said) — Of an elderly Lady, in Babylon bred. Much addicted to flirting, and dressing in red. — Be this as it might, It embarrass' d Blogg quite To find those about him so very pohte. A suspicious observer perhaps might have traced The petites soins, tendered with so much good taste To the sight of an old-fashion'd pocket-book, placed In a black leather belt well secured round his waist, And a ring set with diamonds, his finger that graced, So brilliant, no one could have guess'd they were paste. The group on the shore Consisted of four; You will wonder, perhaps, there were not a few more ; But the fact is they 've not, in that part of the nation, What Malthus would term, a " too dense population," Indeed the sole sign of man's habitation Was merely a single Rude hut, in a dingle That led away inland direct from the shingle, Its sides clothed with underwood, gloomy and dark, Some two hundred yards above high-water mark ; 172 NARRATIVE. And thither the party, So cordial and hearty, Viz., an old man, his wife, two lads, made a start, he The Bagman, proceeding, With equal good breeding, To express, in indifferent French, all he feels, The great curly-tail' d Dog keeping close to his heels. — They soon reach'd the hut, which seem'd partly in ruin, All the way bowing, chattering, shrugging, Mon-JDieuing^ Grimacing, and what sailors call parley -vooing. Is it Paris, or Kitchener, Reader, exhorts You, whenever your stomach 's at all out of sorts, To try, if you find richer viands won't stop in it, A basin of good mutton broth with a chop in it ? (Such a basin and chop as I once heard a witty oue Call, at the G-arrick, " a c — d Committee one," A.n expression, I own, I do not think a pretty one.) However, it 's clear That with sound table beer, Such a mess as I speak of is very good cheer ; Especially too When a person 's wet through. And is hungry, and tired, and don't know what to do. Now just such a mess of delicious hot pottage Was smoking away when they enter'd the cottage. And casting a truly delicious perfume Through the whole of an ugly ill-furnish'd room ; " Hot, smoking hot," On the fire was a pot Well replenish'd, but really I can't say with what; For, famed as the French always are for ragouts, No creature can tell what they put in their stews. Whether bull-frogs, old gloves, or old wigs, or old shoes Notwithstanding, when offer' d I rarely refuse, Any more than poor Blogg did, when seeing the reeky Repast placed before him, scarce able to speak, he In ecstasy mutter' d, "By Jove, Cocky-leeky !" In an instant, as soon As they gave him a spoon, NARRATIVE. 173 Every feeling «ind faculty bent on tlie gruel, he No more blamed Fortune for treating him cruelly, But fell i ooth and nail on the soup and the houilU. •i* •!» ^ ^ "J^ •r Meanwhile that old man standing by, Subduct-a his long coat-tails on high. With his bftck to the fire, as if to dry A part jf Ms dress which the watery sky Had visited rather inclemently. — Blandly he smil'd, but still he look'd sly, And something sinister lurk'd in his eye. Indeed, had you seen him his maritime dress in, You'd have own'd his appearance was not prepossessing; He 'da" dreadnought" coat, and heavy sabots, With thick wooden soles turn'd up at the toes, EQs nether man cased in a striped quelque chose, And a hump on his back, and a great hook'd nose, So that nine out of ten would be led to suppose That the person before them was Punch in plain clothes. Tet still, a? I told you, he smiled on all present, ^nd did all that lay in his power to look pleasant. Tba old woman, too. Made a mighty ado, Helping her guest to a deal of the stew ; She fish'd up the meat, and she help'd him to that, She help'd him to lean, and she help'd him to fat. And it look'd like Hare — ^but it might have been Cat The Httle gargons too strove to express Their sympathy toward the " Child of distress " With a great deal of juvenile 'FTench. poUiesse ; But the Bagman bluff Continued to " stuff" Of the fet, and the lean, and the tender, and tough. Till they thought he would never cry " Hold, enough I" A.nd the old woman's tones became far less agreeable, Sounding hke peste ! and sacre ! and didble I L We seen an old saw, which is well worth repeating, That says, " ^ooti Hatpnfie ©eserbctt) flooti Brstrftsnjje." 174 NARRATIVE. Yon '11 find it so printed by ©ajrton or ClSf^nnttsn, And a very good proverb it is to my thinking. Blogg thought so too ; — As lie finish' d his stew, His ear caught the sound of the word '^Morbleu /" Pronounced by the old woman under her breath. Now, not knowing what she could mean by "Blue Death I" He conceiv'd she referr'd to a dehcate brewing Which is almost synonymous, — namely, " Blue Ruin." So he pursed up his Hp to a smile, and with glee, In his cockneyfy'd accent, responded " Oh, Fee /" Which made her understand he Was asking for brandy ; So she turn'd to the cupboard, and, having some handy, Produced, rightly deeming he would not object to it, An oracular bulb with a very long neck to it ; In fact you perceive her mistake was the same as his, Each of them " reasoning right from wrong premises ;" — — And here by the way AUow me to say. Kind Reader — you sometimes permit me to stray— 'Tis strange the French prove, when they take to aspersing, So inferior to us in the science of cursing : Kick a Frenchman down stairs, How absurdly he swears 1 And how odd 'tis to hear him, when beat to a jelly, Roar out in a passion, " Blue Death!" and "Blue BeUy !" " To return to our sheep" from this little digression : — Blogg's features assumed a complacent expression As he emptied his glass, and she gave him a fresh one ; Too httle he heeded. How fast they succeeded. Perhaps you or I might have done, though, as he did ; For when once Madam Fortune deals out her hard raps. It 's amazing to think How one " cottons" to Drink ! At such times, of all things in nature, perhaps. There 's not one that is half so seducing as Schnaps. Mr. Blogg, beside being uncommonly diy. Was, like most other Bagmen, remarkably shy, NAKRATIVE. 176 — " Did not like to deny" — " Felt obliged to comply" Every time that she ask'd him to " wet t' other eye ;" For 't was worthy remark that she spared not the stoup, Though before she had seem'd so to grudge him the soup. At length the fumes rose To his brain ; and his nose Gave hints of a strong disposition to doze, And a yearning to seek " horizontal repose." — His queer-looking host, Who, firm at liis post. During all the long meal had continued to toast That garment 't were rude to Do more than allude to, Perceived, from his breathing and nodding, the views Of his guest were directed to " taking a snooze :" So he caught up a lamp in his huge dirty paw. With (as Blogg used to tell it) ^^Mounseer, swivvy maw/" And " marshal' d" him so " The way he should go," Up stau-s to an attic, large, gloomy, and low, Without table or chair, Or a movable there. Save an old-fashion'd bedstead, much out of repair. That stood at the end most remov'd from the stair. — With a grin and a shrug The host points to the rug. Just as much as to say, " There ! — I think you '11 be snug !" Puts the Ught on the floor. Walks to the door, Makes a formal Salaam, and is then seen Uyj more; When just as the ear lost the sound of his tread. To the Bagman's surprise, and, at first, to his dread. The great curly tail'd Dog crept from under the bed! — — It 's a very nice thing when a man 's in a fright, And thinks matters all wrong, to find matters all right ; As, for instance, when going home late-ish at night Through a Church-yard, and seeing a thing all in white, Which, of course, one is led to consider a Sprite, 176 NARRATIVE. To find that the Ghost Is merely a post, Or a miller, or chalky-faced donkey at most ; Or, when taking a walk as the evenings begin To close, or, as some people call it, " draw in," And some undefined form, " looming large" through the haze. Presents itself, right in your path, to your gaze, Inducing a dread Of a knock on the head, Or a sever' d carotid, to find that, instead Of one of those ruffians who murder and fleece men, It's your uncle, or one of the " Rural PoUcemen;" — Then the blood flows again Through artery and vein ; You 're delighted with what just before gave you pain ; You laugh at your fears — and your friend in the fog Meets a welcome as cordial as Anthony Blogg Now bestow'd on his friend — the great curly-tail'd Dog. For the Dog leap'd up, and his paws found a place On each side his neck in a canine embrace, And he lick'd Blogg's hands, and he lick'd his face, And he waggled his tail as much as to say, " Mr. Blogg, we 've foregather'd before to-day !" And the Bagman saw, as he now sprang up, What, beyond all doubt, He might have found out Before, had he not been so eager to sup, 'T was Sancho ! — the Dog he had rear'd from a pup I — The Dog who when sinking had seized his hair — The Dog who had saved, and conducted him there — The Dog he had lost out of Bilhter Square ! I It 's passing sweet, An absolute treat, When friends, long sever'd by distance, meet — With what warmth and afiection each other they greet ! Especially too, as we very well know. If there seems any chance of a little cadeau^ A " Present fi^om Brighton," or " Token" to show. In the shape of a work-box, ring, bracelet, or so, N ARR ATI V E. 177 That our friends don't forget us, althougli they may go To Ramsgate, or Rome, or Fernando Po. If some Httle advantage seems Hkely to start, From a fifty-pound note to a two-penny tart, It's surprising to see how it softens the heart. And you '11 find those whose hopes from the other are strongest^ Use, in common, endearments the thickest and longest But, it was not so here ; For although it is clear, When abroad, and we have not a single friend near, E'en a cur that will love us becomes very dear, And the balance of interest 'twixt him and the Dog Of rourse was inclining to Anthony Blogg, Yet he, first of all, ceased To encourage the beast, Perhaps thinking " Enough is as good as a feast ;" And besides, as we 've said, being sleepy and meUow, He grew tired of patting, and crying "Poor fellow!" So his smile by degrees harden' d into a fi:own. And bis "That's a good dog I" into " Down, Sancho ! downl" But nothing could stop his mute fav'rite's caressing, Who, in fact, seem'd resolved to prevent his undressing, Using paws, tail, and head. As if he had said, " Most beloved of masters, pray, don't go to bed ; You had much better sit up, and pat me instead 1" Nay, at last, when determined to take some repose, Blogg threw himself down on the outside the clothes, Spite of all he could do. The Dog jump'd up too, And kept him awake with his very cold nose ; Scratcliing and whining, And moaning and pining, Till Blogg really beheved he must have some design in Thus breaking his rest ; above all, when at length The Dog scratch'd him off from the bed by sheer strength. Extremely annoy'd by the " tarnation whop," as it 's call'd in Kentuck, on his head and its opposite, Blogg show'd fight; When he saw, by the light 8* 178 NARRATIVE. Of the flickering candle, that had not yet quite Burnt down in the socket, though not over bright, Certain dark-color'd stains, as of blood newlj spilt, Keveal'd by the dog's having scratch'd off the quilt- Which hinted a story of horror and guilt 1 — 'T was " no mistake," — He was " wide awake" In an instant ; for, when only decently drunk. Nothing sobers a man so completely as " funk." And hark ! — what 's that ? — They have got into chat In the kitchen below — what the deuce are they at? — There's the ugly old Fisherman scolding his wife — And she ! — by the Pope ! she 's whetting a knife !— At each twist Of her wrist, And her great mutton fist, The edge of the weapon sounds shriller and louder I — The fierce kitchen fire Had not made Blogg perspire Half so much, or a dose of the best James's powder. — It ceases — all 's silent ! — and now, I declare There 's somebody crawls up that rickety stair. The horrid old ruflEian comes, cat-hke, creeping ;— He opens the door just sufficient to peep in, And sees, as he fancies, the Bagman sleeping I For Blogg, when he 'd once ascertain' d that there was some " Precious mischief" on foot, had resolv'd to play " 'Possum ;"— Down he went, legs and head. Flat on the bed, Apparently sleeping as sound as the dead ; While, though none who look'd at him would think such a thing, Every nerve in his frame was braced up for a spring. Then, just as the villain Crept, stealthily still, in. And you 'd not liave insur'd his guest's life for a shilling. As the knife gleam'd on high, bright and sharp as a razor, Blogg, starting upright, " tipped" the fellow '' a facer ;" — NAKKATIVE. 179 —Down went man and weapon. — Of all sorts of blows^ From what Mr. Jackson reports, I suppose There are few that surpass a flush hit on the nose. Now, had I the pen of old Ossian or Homer, (Though each of these names some pronounce a misnomer, And say the first person Was call'd James M'Pherson, While, as to the second, they stoutly declare He was no one knows who, and born no one knows where) Or had I the quill of Pierce Egan, a writer Acknowledged the best theoretical fighter For the last twenty years, By the hvely young Peers, Who, doflBng their coronets, collars, and ermine, treat Boxers to " Max," at the One Tun in Jermyn Street ; — ^I say, could I borrow these Grentlemen's Muses, More skill' d than my meek one in " fibbings" and bruises, I 'd describe now to you As " prime a Set-to," • And "regular turn-up," as ever you knew; Kot inferior in " bottom" to aught you have read of Since Cribb, years ago, half knock' d Molyneux's head ofi; But my dainty Urania says, " Such things are shocking I" Lace mittens she loves. Detesting " The Gloves ;" And turning, with air most disdainfully mocking. From Melpomene's buskin, adopts the silk stocking. So, as far as I can see, I must leave you to " fancy" The thumps, and the bumps, and the ups and the downs, And the taps, and the slaps, and the raps on the crowns. That pass'd 'twixt the Husband, Wife, Bagman, and Dog, As Blogg roll'd over them, and they roll'd over Blogg ; WhUe what's caHed " The Claret" Flew over the garret : Merely stating the fact. As each other they whack' d, The Dog his old master most gallantly back'd ; Making both the garqons^ who came running in, sheer ofl^ With " Hippolyte's" thumb, and " Alphonse's" left ear oflf; 180 NARRATIVE. Next making a stoop on The buffeting group on The floor, rent in tatters the old woman's jupon ; Then the old man turn'd up, and a fresh bite of Sancho'a Tore out the whole seat of his striped Calimancoes. — Eeally, which way This desperate fray Might have ended at last, I 'm not able to say, The dog keeping thus the assassins at bay : But a few fresh arrivals decided the day ; For bounce went the door, In came half a score Of the passengers, sailors, and one or two more Who had aided the party in gaining the shore 1 It 's a great many years ago — ^mine then were few — Since I spent a short time in the old Qourageux ; I think that they say She had been, in her day A First-rate, — but was then what they term a Rasee, — And they took me on board in the Downs, where she lay (Captain Wilkinson held the command, by the way.) In her I pick'd up, on that single occasion, The little I know that concerns Navigation, And obtained, inter alia, some vague information Of a practice which often, in cases of robbing. Is adopted on shipboard — I think it 's call'd " Cobbing." How it 's managed exactly I really can't say. But I think that a Boot-jack is brought into play, — That is, if I 'm right : — it exceeds my ability To tell how 'tis done ; But the system is one Of which Sancho's exploit would increase the facility. And, from all I can learn, I 'd much rather be robb'd Of the Httle I have in my purse, than be " cobb'd ;" — That 's mere matter of taste : But the Frenchman was placed — I mean the old scoundrel whose actions we've traced — In such a position, that, on his unmasking. His consent was the last, thing the men thought of asking NARRATIVE. 181 The old woman, too, Was obliged to go through. With her boys, the rough discipline used by the crew. Who, before they let one of the set see the back of them, " Cobb'd" the whole party, — ay, " every man Jack of them.** MORAL. And now, G-entle Eeader, before that I say Farewell for the present, and wish you good-day, Attend to the moral I draw from my lay I — If ever you travel, like Anthony Blogg, Be wary of strangers ! — don't take too much grog 1— And don't fall asleep, if you should, like a hog I — Above all — carry with you a curly-tail'd Dog I Lastly, don't act like Blogg, who, I say it with blushing, Sold Sancho next month for two guineas at Flushing ; But still on these words of the Bard keep a fix'd eye, Ingratum si dixeris, omnia dixti I 1 1 LEnvoye. I felt so disgusted with Blogg, from sheer shame of him, I never once thought to inquire what became of him; If you want to know. Reader, the way, I opine. To achieve your design, — — Mind, it 's no wish of mine, — Is, — (a penny will do 't) — by addressing a Hne To Turner, Dry, Weipersyde, Rogers, and Pyne. DAME FREDEGONDE. WILLIAM ATTOUN. When folks with headstrong passion blind, To play the fool make up their mind. They 're sure to come with phrases nice. And modest air, for your advice. But, as a truth unfailing make it. They ask, but never mean to take it. 182 NARRATIVE. 'Tis not advice they want, in fact, But confirmation in their act. Now mark what did, in such a case, A worthy priest who knew the race. A dame more buxom, blithe and free, Than Fredegonde you scarce would see. So smart her dress, so trim her shape, Ne'er hostess ofier'd juice of grape, Could for her trade wish better sign ; Her looks gave flavor to her wine, And each guest feels it, as he sips, Smack of the ruby of her Hps. A smile for all, a welcome glad, — A jovial coaxing way she had ; And, — ^what was more her fate than blame,— A nine months' widow was our dame. But toil was hard, for trade was good, And gallants sometimes will be rude. " And what can a lone woman do ? The nights are long and eerie too. Now, Guillot there 's a Hkely man. None better draws or taps a can ; He 's just the man, I tliink, to suit, K I could bring my courage to 't." With thoughts hke these her mind is cross'd : The dame, they say, who doubts, is lost. " But then the risk ? I '11 beg a shoe Of Father Eaulin's good advice." Prankt in her best, with looks demure. She seeks the priest ; and, to be sure, Asks if he thinks she ought to wed : " With such a business on my head, I 'm worried off my legs with care, And need some help to keep things square. I 've thought of Guillot, truth to tell I He 's steady, knows his business well What do you think ?" When thus he met her : " Oh, take him, dear, you can't do better I" " But then the danger, my good pastor, If of the man I make the master. I NAREATIVE. 183 There is no trusting to these men." " Well, well, my dear, don't have him then I" *' But help I must have, there 's the curse. I may go further and fare worse." " Why, take him then !" " But if he should Turn out a thankless ne'er-do-good, — In drink and riot waste my all, .Ajid rout me out of house and hall ?" " Don't have him, then ! But I Ve a plan To clear your doubts, if any can. The bells a peal are ringing, — hark I Go straight, and what they tell you mark. If they say ' Yes !' wed, and be blest — If * No,' why — do as you think best." The bells rung out a triple bob : Oh, how our widow's heart did throb, And thus she heard their burden go, " Marry, mar-marry, mar-Gruillot 1" Bells were not then left to hang idle : A week, — and they rang for her bridal But, woe the while, they might as weU Have rung the poor dame's parting knelL The rosy dimples left her cheek. She lost her beauties plump and sleek , For Guillot oftener kick'd than kiss'd. And back'd his orders with his fist. Proving by deeds as well as words, That servants make the worst of lords. She seeks the priest, her ire to wreak, And speaks as angTy women speak. With tiger looks, and bosom swelling. Cursing the hour she took his telling. To aU, his calm reply was this, — " I fear you 've read the bells amiss. ' If they have led you wrong in aught. Your wish, not they, inspired the thought. Just go, and mark weU what they say." Off trudged the dame upon her way, And sure enough the chime went so, — " Don't have that knave, that knave Guillot 1" 184 NARRATIVE. " Too true," she cried, " there's not a doubt: What could my ears have been about!" She had forgot^ that, as fools think, The beU is ever sure to chnk. THE KING OF BRENTFORD'S TESTAMENT. W. MAKEPEACE THACKERAT. The noble king of Brentford Was old and very sick ; He summoned his physicians To wait upon him quick; They stepped into then- coaches, And brought their best physic. They crammed their gracious master With potion and with piU ; They drenched him and they bled him: They could not cure his ill. " Go fetch," says he, " my lawyer; I 'd better make my wilL" The monarch's royal mandate The lawyer did obey ; The thought of six-and-eightpence Did make his heart fuU gay. " What is't," says he, " your majesty Would wish of me to-day ?" " The doctors have belabored me With potion and with pill : My hours of Hfe are counted man of tape and quill I Sit down and mend a pen or two, 1 want to make my will. " O'er all the land of Brentford • I 'm lord and eke of Kew : I 've three per cents and five per cents ; My debts are but a few ; * And to inherit after me I have but children two. NARRATIVE. 186 " Prince Thomas is my eldest son, A sober prince is he ; And from the day we breeched him, Till now he 's twenty-three, He never caused disquiet To his poor mamma or me. ** At school they never flogged hit?) j At college, though not fast. Yet his httle go and great go He creditably passed, And made his year's allowance For eighteen months to last " He never owed a shilling. Went never drunk to bed, He has not two ideas Within his honest head ; In all respects he differs From my second son, Prince Ned. ' When Tom has half his income Laid by at the year's end, Poor ISTed has ne'er a stiver That rightly he may spend, But sponges on a tradesman. Or borrows from a friend. " While Tom his legal studies Most soberly pursues, Poor Ned must pass his mornings A-dawdling with the Muse ; While Tom frequents his banker, Young Ned frequents the Jewa, " Ned drives about in buggies, Tom sometimes takes a 'bus ; Ah, cruel fate, why made you My children differ thus ? Why make of Tom a duUard, And Ned a genius ?" 186 NARRATIVE. " You 'II cut liim with a shilling," Exclaimed the man of wits : " I'll leave my wealth," said Brentford, " Sir Lawyer, as befits ; And portion both their fortunes Unto their several wits." " Your grace knows best," the lawyer said, " On your commands I wait." " Be silent, sir," says Brentford, " A plague upon your prate 1 Come, take your pen and paper, And write as I dictate." The will, as Brentford spoke it, "Was writ, and signed, and closed ; He bade the lawyer leave him. And turned hum round, and dozed ; And next week in the church-yard The good old king reposed. Tom, dressed in crape and hatband, Of mourners was the cliief ; In bitter self-upbraidings Poor Edward showed his grief; Tom hid his fat, white countenance In his pocket handkerchief. Ned's eyes were fuU of weeping, He faltered in his walk ; Tom never shed a tear. But onward he did stalk. As pompous, black, and solemn, As any catafalque. And when the bones of Brentford— That gentle king and just — With bell, and book, and candle, "Were duly laid in dust, '' Now, gentlemen," says Thomaa^ " Let business be discussed. NABRATIVE. 1S5 " When late our sire beloved Was taken deadly ill, Sir Lawyer, you attended him, (I mean to tax your bill ;) And, as you signed and wrote it, I pr'ythee read the will." The lawyer wiped his spectacles. And chew the parchment out ; And all the Brentford family Sat eager round about : Poor Ned was somewhat anxious, But Tom had ne'er a doubt. " My son, as I make ready To seek my last long home. Some cares I had for Neddy, But none for thee, my Tom : Sobriety and order You ne'er departed from ^ Ned hath a briUiant genius, And thou a plodding brain ; On thee I think with pleasure, On him with doubt and pain." (" You see, good Ned," says Thomas, " What he thought about us twain.") " Though small was your allowance, You saved a httle store ; And those who save a little Shall get a plenty more." As the lawyer read tliis compUment^ Tom's eyes were running o'er. " The tortoise and the hare, Tom, Set out, at each his pace ; The hare it was the fleeter. The tortoise won the race ; And since the world's beginning, This ever was tlie case. 188 NARRATIVE. " Ned's genius, blithe and singing, Steps gayly o'er the ground ; As steadily you trudge it, He clears it with a bound ; But dullness has stout legs, Tom, And wind that's wondrous sound. " O'er fruits and flowers alike, Tom, You pass with plodding feet ; You heed not one nor t'other. But onward go your beat, While genius stops to loiter With all that he may meet. " And ever, as he wanders. Will have a pretext fine For sleeping in the morning, Or loitering to dine. Or dozing in the shade. Or basking in the shine. " Your little steady eyes, Tom, Though not so bright as those That restless round about him Your flashing genius throws. Are excellently suited To look before your nose. " Thank heaven, then, for the blinkers It placed before your eyes; The stupidest are weakest, The witty are not wise ; O, bless your good stupidity. It is your dearest prize ! " And though my lands are wide. And plenty is my gold, Still better gifts from Nature, My Thomas, do you hold — A brain that 's thick and heavy, A heart that 's dull and cold ; NAEEATIVE. 18^ " Too dull to feel depression, Too hard to heed distress, Too cool to yield to passion, Or silly tenderness. March on — your road is open To wealth, Tom, and success. " Ned sinneth in extravagance, And you in greedy lust." (" r faith," says Ned, " our father Is less polite than just.") " In you, son Tom, I 've confidence, But Ned I can not trust " Wherefore my lease and copyholds. My lands and tenements. My parks, my farms, and orchards, My houses and my rents. My Dutch stock, and my Spanish stock My five and three per cents ; " I leave to you, my Thomas — " (" What, all ?" poor Edward said ; " Well, well, I should have spent them, And Tom 's a prudent head.") " I leave to you, my Thomas, — To you, IN TRUST for Ned." The wrath and consternation What poet e'er could trace That at this fatal passage Came o'er Prince Tom his face; The wonder of the company. And honest Ned's amaze 1 " 'Tis surely some mistake," G-ood-naturedly cries Ned ; The lawyer answered gravely, " 'Tis even as I said ; 'T was thus his gracious majesty Ordained on his death-bed. 190 NAREATIVE. " See, here the will is witnessed, And here 's his autograph." '' In truth, our father's writing," Said Edward, with a laugh ; " But thou shalt not be loser, Tom, We 'U share it half and half." " Alas I my kind young gentleman, This sharing can not be ; 'Tis written in the testament That Brentford spoke to me, * I do forbid Prince Ned to give Prince Tom a half-penny. " ' He hath a store of money, But ne'er was known to lend it ; He never helped his brother ; The poor he ne'er befriended ; He hath no need of property He knows not how to spend it. " ' Poor Edward knows but how to spend, And thrifty Tom to hoard ; Let Thomas be the steward then, And Edward be the lord ; And as the honest laborer Is worthy his reward, " ' I pray Prince Ned, my second son, And my successor dear, To pay to his intendant Five hundred pounds a year ; And to think of his old father, And hve and make good cheer.' " Such was old Brentford's honest testament ; He did devise his moneys for the best, And lies in Brentford church in peaceful rest. Prmce Edward Uved, and money made and spent ; But his good sire was wrong, it is confessed, To say his young son Thomas, never lent. He did. Young Thomas lent at interest, And nobly took his twenty-five per cent. NARRATIVE. 191 Long time the famous reign of Ned endured, O'er Chiswick, Fulliam, Brentford, Putney, Kew; But of extravagance he ne'er was cured. And when both died, as mortal men will do, 'T was commonly reported that the steward Was very much the richer of the two. TITMA^RSH'S CARMEN LILLIENSE. W- MAKEPEACE THACKERAY, Lille, Sept. 2, 1843. My heart is weary ^ my peace is gone, How shall I e'er my woes reveal f I have no money ^ I lie in pawn, A stranger in the town of IMe, With twenty pounds but three weeks since From Paris forth did Titmarsh wheel, I thought myself as rich a prince As beggar poor I 'm now at Lille. Confiding in my ample means — In troth, I was a happy chiel ! I passed the gate of Valenciennes. I never thought to come by Lille. I never thought my twenty pounds Some rascal knave would dare to steal ; I gayly passed the Belgic bounds At Quievrain, twenty miles from Lille. To Antwerp town I hastened post, And as I took my evening meal I felt my pouch, — my purse was lost, Heaven I Why came I not by Lille ? 192 NARRATIVE. I straightway called for ink and pen, To grandmamma I made appeal ; Meanwhile a load of guineas ten I borrowed from a friend so leaL I got the cash from grandmamma (Her gentle heart my woes could feel}, But where I went, and what I saw, What matters ? Here I am at Lille. My heart is weary, my peace is gone, How shall I e'er my woes reveal ? I have no cash, I he in pawn, A stranger in the town of Lille. n. To steaHng I can never come. To pawn my watch I 'm too genteel, Besides, I left my watch at home ; How could I pawn it, then, at Lille ? " La note^'' at times the guests will say, I turn as wliite as cold boiled veal ; I turn and look another way, / dare not ask the bill at Lille. I dare not to the landlord say, " Good sir, I can not pay your bill :" He thinks I am a Lord Anglais, And is quite proud I stay at Lille. He thinks I am a Lord Anglais, Like Rothschild or Sir Robert Peel, And so he serves me every day The best of meat and drink in LiUe. Yet when he looks me in the face I blush as red as cochineal ; And think did he but know my case. How changed he 'd be, my host of Lille. K AR RA 1 t VB. 193 My heart is weary, my peace is gonf How shall I e'er my woes reveal ? I have no money, I He in pawn, A strano^er in the town of Lille. m. The sun bursts out in furious blaze, I perspirate from head to heel ; I 'd like to hire a one-horse chaise ; How can I, without cash, at LiUe ? I pass in sunshine burning hot By cafes where in beer they deal ; I think how pleasant were a pot, A frothing pot of beer of Lille ! What is yon house with walls so thick, All girt around with guard and grille ? 0, gracious gods, it makes me sick, It is the prison-hozise of Lille 1 cursed prison strong and barred. It does my very blood congeal ! 1 tremble as I pass the guai d. And quit that ugly part of Lille. The church-door beggar whines and praya^ I turn away at his appeal : Ah, church-door beggar ! go thy ways ! You 're not the poorest man in Lille. My heart is weary, my peace is gone. How shall I e'er my woes reveal ? I have no money, I He in pawn, A stranger in the town of LiUe. rv. Say, shall I to yon Flemish church, And at a Popish altar kneel ? do not leave me in the lurch, — I 'U cry ye patron-saints of Lille I 9 104 NAKRATIVE. Ye virgir^i dressed in satin hoops, Te martyrs slain for mortal weal, Look kindly down ! before you stoop3 Tke miserablest man in Lille. And lo ! as I beheld with awe A pictured saint (I swear 'tis real) It smiled, and turned to grandmamma I— It did I and I had hope in Lille ! 'T was five o'clock, and I could eat, Although I could not pay, my meal ; I hasten back into the street Where Hes my inn, the best in Lille. What see I on my table stand, — A letter with a weU-kuown seal ? 'Tis grandmamma's ! I know her hand,- To Mr. M. A. Titmarsh, LiUe." I feel a choking in my throat, I pant and stagger, faint and reel ! It is — it is — a ten pound note. And I 'm no more in pawn at Lille 1 IHe goes off by the diligence that evening, and is restored to tihe bosom of his happy family.] SHADOWS Deep ! I own I start at shadows, Listen, I will tell you why ; (Life itself is but a taper. Casting shadows till we die.) Once, in Italy, at Florence, I a radiant girl adored : When she came, she saw, she conquered, And by Cupid I was floored. LANTERN. naeeattve. 196 Round my heart her glossy ringlets Were mysteriously entwined— And her soft voluptuous glances AH my inmost thoughts divined. " Mia cara MandoHna I Are we not, indeed," I cried, "AH the world to one another?" Mandolina smiled and sighed. Earth was Eden, she an angel, I a Jupiter enshrined — Till one night I saw a damning Double shadow on her blind t " Fire and fury 1 double shadows On their bed-room windows ne'er, To my knowledge, have been cast by Ladies virtuous and fair. "False, abandoned, Mandolina! Fare thee well, for evermore ! Vengeance I" shrieked I, " vengeance I vengeance I* And I thundered through the door. This event occurred next morning ; Mandolina staring sat, Stark amaz'd, as out I tumbled. Raving mad, without a hat I Six weeks after I 'd a letter. On its road six weeks delayed— With a dozen re-directions From the lost one, and it said : "Foolish, wicked, cruel Albert I Base suspicion's doubts resign ; Double lights throw double shadows! Mandolina— ever thine." 196 NAEEATIVE. " Heavens, what an ass I" I muttered, "Not before to think of that I"— And again I rushed excited To the rail, without a hat. "Mandolinal Mandolinal" When her house I reached, I cried: "Pardon, dearest love!" she answered- " I 'm the Russian Consul's bride 1" Thus, by Muscovite barbarian, And by Fate, my life was crossed ; Wonder ye I start at shadows ? Types of Mandolina lost THE RETORT. GEORGE P. MORRIS. Old Nick, who taught the village school, Wedded a maid of homespun habit ; 3 was stubborn as a mule, She was playful as a rabbit. Poor Jane had scarce become a wife. Before her husband sought to make her The pink of country-polished life. And prim and formal as a Quaker. One day the tutor went abroad. And simple Jer ny sadly missed him ; When he returned, behind her lord She slyly stole, and fondly kissed him! The husband's anger rose I — and red And white his face alternate grew ! "Less freedom, ma'am!" — Jane sighed and said " Oh, dearl I didn't know Hwas you!" SATIRICAL. SATIRICAL. THE RABBLE: OR, WHO PAYS? SAMUEL BUTLEB. How various and innumerable Are those who Hve upon the rabble I 'Tis they maintain the Church and State, Employ the priest and magistrate ; Bear all the charge of government, And pay the public fines and rent ; Defray all taxes and excises, And impositions of aU prices ; Bear all th' expense of peace and war, And pay the pulpit and the bar ; Maintain all churches and religions. And give their pastors exhibitions ; And those who have the greatest flocks Are primitive and orthodox ; Support all schismatics and sects, And pay them for tormenting texts ; Take all their doctrines off their hands, And pay 'em in good rents and lands ; Discharge all costly offices, The doctor's and the lawyer's fees, The hangman's wages, and the scores Of caterpillar bawds and whores ; Discharge all damages and costs Of Knights and Squires of the Post ; All statesmen, cut-purses, and padders, And pay for all their ropes and ladders ; All pettifoggers, and all sorts Of markets, churches, and of courts ; 200 SATIRICAL. All sums of money paid or spent, With all the charges incident, Laid out, or thrown away, or given To purchase this world, Hell or Heaven. THE CHAMELEON. MATTHEW PRIOR. As title Chameleon who is known To have no colors of its own : But borrows from his neighbor's hue His white or black, his green or blue ; And struts as much in ready hght, Which credit gives him upon sight : As if the rainbow were in tail Settled on him, and his heirs male ; So the young squire, when first he comes From country school to Will or Tom's : And equally, in truth is fit To be a statesman or a wit; Without one notion of his own, He saunters wildly up and down ; Till some acquaintance, good or bad, Takes notice of a staring lad ; Admits him in among the gang: They jest, reply, dispute, harangue ; He acts and talks, as they befriend him, Smear' d with the colors which they lend him. Thus merely, as his fortune chances, His merit or his vice advances. If haply he the sect pursues, That r Dad and comment upon news ; He takes up their mysterious face : He drinks his coffee without lace. This week his mimic tongue runs o'er What they have said the week before ; His wisdom sets all Europe right, And teaches Marlborough when to fight. Or if it be his fate to meet With folks who have more wealth than wit SATIRICAL. 201 He loves cheap port, and double bub ; And settles in the hum-drum club : He .earns how stocks will fall or rise ; Holds poverty the greatest vice ; Thinks wit the bane of conversation ; And says that learning spoils a nation. But if, at first, he minds his hits, And drinks champagne among the wits I Five deep he toasts the towering lasses ; Repeats you verses wrote on glasses ; Is in the chair ; prescribes the law ; And hes with those he never saw. MERRY ANDREW. MATTHEW PRIOR. Sly Merry Andrew, the last Southwark fair (At Barthol'mew he did not much appear : So peevish was the edict of the Mayor) At Southwark, therefore, as his tricks he show'd, To please our masters, and his friends the crowd ; A huge neat's tongue he in his right hand held : His left was with a huge black pudding fiU'd. With a grave look in this odd equipage. The clownish mimic traverses the stage : Why, how now, Andrew ! cries his brother droll, To-day's conceit, methinks, is something dull : Come on, sir, to our worthy friends explain. What does your emblematic worship mean ? Quoth Andrew ; Honest English let us speak : Your emble — (what d' ye call 't) is heathen Greek. To tongue or pudding thou hast no pretense : Learning thy talent is, but mine is sense. That busy fool I was, which thou art now ; Desirous to correct, not knowing how : With very good design, but httle wit. Blaming or praising things, as I thought fit. I for this conduct had what I deserv'd ; And dealing honestly, was almost starv'd. 9* 202 SATIRICAL. But, thanks to my indulgent stars, I eat ; Since I have found the secret to be great. 0, dearest Andrew, says the humble droll, Henceforth may I obey, and thou control; Provided thou impart thy useful skill. — Bow then, says Andrew ; and, for once, I wilL — Be o^ your patron's mind, whate'er he says ; Sleep very much : think little ; and talk less ; Mind neither good nor bad, nor right nor wrong, But eat your pudding, slave ; and hold your tongue. A reverend prelate stopp'd his coach and six, To laugh a little at our Andrew's tricks; But when he heard him give this golden rule, Drive on (he cried) ; tliis fellow is no fool. JACK AND JOAN. MATTHEW PRIOB. Stet quicunque volet potens Aulae culmine lubrico, &c. Sbxboa. [nterr'd beneath this marble stone Lie sauntering Jack and idle Joan. Wliile roUing threescore years and one Did round tliis globe their courses run ; If human things went ill or well; If changing empires rose or fell ; The morning past, the evening came, And found tliis couple still the same. They walk'd and eat, good folks : what then ? Why then they walk'd and eat again : They soundly slept the night away ; They just did nothing all the day ; And having buried children four, Would not take pains to try for more ; Nor sister either had, nor brother ; They seem'd just tallied for each other. Their moral a id economy Most perfectly they made agree : Each virtue kept its proper bound, Nor trespass'd on the other's ground. SATIRICAL. Nor fame, nor censure they regarded ; They neither punish'd nor rewarded. He cared not what the footman did ; Her maids she neither prais'd nor chid; So every servant took his course ; And bad at first, they all grew worse. Slothful disorder filled liis stable ; And sluttish plenty deck'd her table. Their beer was strong ; their wine was pfort ; Their meal was large ; their grace was short. They gave the poor the remnant meat, Just when it grew not fit to eat. They paid the church and parish rate ; And took, but read not the receipt : For which they claim their Sunday's due, Of slumbering in an upper pew. No man's defects sought they to know ; So never made themselves a foe. No man's good deeds did they commend; So never rais'd themselves a friend. Nor cherish'd they relations poor ; That might decrease their present store : Nor barn nor house did they repair ; That might oblige their fiiture heu*. They neither added nor confounded ; They neither wanted nor abounded. Each Christmas they accompts did clear, And wound their bottom round the year. Nor tear or smile did they employ At news of pubhc grief or joy. When bells were rung, and bonfires made, K ask'd they ne'er denied their aid ; Their jug was to the ringers carried, Whoever either died, or married. Their billet at the fire was found. Whoever was depos'd, or crown'd. Nor good, nor bad, nor fools, nor wise; They would uot learn, n( r could advise : Without love, hatred, joy, or fear, They led — a kind of — as it were : Nor wish'd, nor car'd, nor laugh' d, nor cried: And so they Hv'd, and so they died. 204 SATIRICAL. THE PROGRESS OF POETRY. DEAN SWIFL The farmer's goose, who in the stubble Has fed without restraint or trouble, Grown fat with corn and sitting still, Can scarce get o'er the barn-door sill j And hardly waddles forth to cool Her belly in the neighboring pool 1 Nor loudly cackles at the door ; For cackhng shows the goose is poor. But, when she must be turn'd to graze, And round the barren common strays. Hard exercise, and harder fare. Soon make my dame grow lank and spare ; Her body hght, she tries her wings. And scorns the ground, and upward springs, While all the parish, as she flies, Hear sounds harmonious from the skies. Such is the poet fresh in pay. The third night's profits of his play ; His morning draughts till noon can swill, Among his brethren of the quUl : With good roast beef his belly fuU, Grown lazy, foggy, fat, and dull, Deep sunk m plenty and delight, What poet e'er could take his flight ? Or, stuff'd with phlegm up to the throat, What poet e'er could sing a note ? Nor Pegasus could bear the load Along the high celestial road ; The steed, oppress' d, would break his girth, To raise the lumber from the earth. But view him in another scene, When all his drink is Hippocrene, His money spent, his patrons f^jl, His credit out for cheese and aie ; His two-years' coat so smooth and bare^ Through every thread it lets in air ; With hungry meals his body pined, His guts and belly fuU of wind ; SATIRICAL. 205 And like a jockey for a race, His flesh brought down to flying Now his exalted spkit loathes Encumbrances of food and clothes; And up he rises like a vapor, Supported high on wings of paper. He singing flies, and flying sings, While from below all G-rub street rings. TWELVE ARTICLES. DKAl? SWIFT. L Lest it may more quarrels breed, I will never hear you read. By disputing, I will never, To convince you once endeavor. ni. When a paradox you stick to. I will never contradict you. When I talk and you are heedless I will show no anger needless. v. When your speeches are absurd, T will ne'er object a word. VI. When you furious argue wrong, I will grieve and hold my tongue. VII. Not a jest or humorous story Will I ever tell before ye : To be chidden for explaining. When you quite mistake the meamng. 206 SATIRICAL. vin. Never more will I suppose, You can taste my verse or prose. IX. You no more at me sliall fret, While I teach and you forget You shall never hear me thunder, When you blunder on, and blunder. XI. Show your poverty of spirit, And in dress place all your merit; Give yourself ten thousand airs : That with me shall break no squares xn. Never will I give advice, TOl you please to ask me thrice : Which if you in scorn reject, 'T will be just as I expect. Thus we both shall have our ends An d continue special friends. THE BEASTS' CONFESSION. DEAN SWEPT When beasts could speak (the learned say They still can do so every day), It seems, they had rehgion then, As much as now we find in men. It happen'd, when a plague broke out (Which therefore made them more devout), The king of brutes (to make it plain, Of quadrupeds I only mean) By proclamation gave command, That every subject in the land SATIRICAL. 207 Should to the priest confess their sins ; And thus the pious Wolf begins : Good father, I must own with shame, That often I have been to blame : I must confess, on Friday last, Wretch that I was ! I broke my fast : But I defy the basest tongue To prove I did my neighbor wrong ; Or ever went to seek my food, By rapine, theft, or thirst of blood. The Ass approaching next, confess'd, That in his heart he loved a jest : A wag he was, he needs must own, And could not let a dunce alone : Sometimes his friend he would not spare, And might perhaps be too severe : But yet the worst that could be said. He was a wit both born and bred ; And, if it be a sin and shame, Nature alone must bear the blame : One fault he has, is sorry for 't, His ears are half a foot too short ; Which could he to the standard bring. He 'd show his face before the king : Then for his voice, there 's none disputes That he 's the nightingale of brutes. The Swine with contrite heart aUow'd, His shape and beauty made him proud : In diet was perhaps too nice. But gluttony was ne'er his vice : In every turn of life content. And meekly took what fortune sent : Inquire through aU the parish round, A better neighbor ne'er was found ; His vigilance might some displease ; Tis true, he hated sloth like pease. The mimic Ape began his chatter, How evil tongues his life bespatter ; Much of the censuring world complain' d, Who said, his gravity was feign' d : Indeed, the strictness of his morals Engaged him in a hundred quarrels : 208 SATIRICAL. He saw, and he was grieved to see 't, His zeal was sometimes indiscreet ; He found his virtues too severe For our corrupted times to bear ; Yet such a lewd Hcentious age Might well excuse a stoic's rage. The Goat advanced with decent pace, And first excused his youthful face ; Forgiveness begg'd that he appear'd ('T was Nature's fault) without a beard. 'Tis true, he was not much inclined To fondness for the female kind : Not, as his enemies object, From chance, or natural defect ; Not by liis frigid constitution ; But through a pious resolution : For he had made a holy vow Of Chastity, as monks do now : Which he resolved to keep forever hence, A.nd strictly too, as doth his reverence. Apply the tale, and you shall find, How just it suits with human kind. Some faults we own ; but can you guess r — Why, virtue 's carried to excess, Wherewith our vanity endows us, Though neither foe nor friend allows us. The Lawyer swears (you may rely on 't) He never squeezed a needy chent ; And this he makes his constant rule, For which his brethren call him fool ; His conscience always was so nice. He fi:eely gave the poor advice ; By which he lost, he may affirm, A hundred fees last Easter term ; While others of the learned robe, Would break the patience of a Job. No pleader at the bar could match His diligence and quick dispatch ; Ne'er kept a cause, he well may boast, Above a term or two at most. The cringing Knave, who seeks a place Without success, thus tells his case : SA.TIRICAL. 209 Why should he longer mince the matter ' He fail'd, because he could not flatter: He had not learn' d to turn his coat, Nor for a party give his vote : His crime he quickly understood ; Too zealous for the nation's good : He found the ministers resent it, Yet could not for his heart repent it. The Chaplain vows, he can not fawn, Though it would raise him to the lawn He pass'd his hours among his books ; You find it in his meager looks : He might, if he were worWly wise, Preferment get, and spare his eyes ; But owns he had a stubborn spirit, That made him trust alone to merit ; Would rise by merit to promotion ; Alas ! a mere chimeric notion. The Doctor, if you will believe him, Confess' d a sin ; (and God forgive him I) Call'd up at midnight, ran to save A blind old beggar from the grave : But see how Satan spreads his snares ; He quite forgot to say his prayers. He can not help it, for his heart, Sometimes to act the parson's part : Quotes from the Bible many a sentence, That moves his patients to repentance ; And, when his medicines do no good, Supports their minds with heavenly food; At which, however well intended, He hears the clergy are offended ; And grown so bold behind his back, To call him hypocrite and quack. In his own church he keeps a seat ; Says grace before and after meat ; And calls, without aflfecting airs, His household twice a-day to prayers. He shuns apothecaries' shops. And hates to cram the sick with slops : He scorns to make his art a trade ; Nor bribes my lady's favorite maid. JilO SATIRICAL. Old nurse-keepers would never hire^ To recommend him to the squh-e ; Which others, whom he will not name, Have often practiced to their shame. The Statesman tells you, with a sneer, His fault is to be too sincere ; And having no sinister ends. Is apt to disoblige his friends. The nation's good, his master's glory, Without regard to Whig or Tory, Were all the schemes he had in view, Yet he was seconded by few : Though some had spread a thousand lies, 'T was he defeated the excise. 'T was known, though he had borne aspersion, That standing troops were his aversion : His practice was, in every station, To serve the king, and please the nation. Though hard to find in every case The fittest man to fill a place : His promises he ne'er forgot. But took memorials on the spot ; His enemies, for want of charity, Said he afiected popularity ; 'Tis true, the people understood, That aU. he did was for their good ; Their kind affections he has tried ; No love is lost on either side. He came to court with fortune clear, Which now he runs out every year ; Must f t the rate that he goes on. Inevitably be undone : ! if his majesty would please To give him but a writ of ease, Would grant him license to retire. As it has long been his desire, By fair accounts it would be found, He 's poorer by ten thousand pound. He owns, and hopes it is no sin. He ne'er was partial to his kin ; He thought it base for men in stations. To crowd the court with their relations l SATIEICAL. 211 &1S country was his dearest mother, And every virtuous man his brother ; Through modesty or awkward shame (For which he owns Iiimself to blame), He found the wisest man he could. Without respect to friends or blood ; Nor ever acts on private views, When he has hberty to choose. The Sharper swore he hated play, Except to pass an hour away : And well he might ; for, to his cost) By want of skill he always lost ; He heard there was a club of cheats, Who had contrived a thousand feats ; Could change the stock, or cog a die, And thus deceive the sharpest eye : Nor wonder how his fortune sunk, His brothers fleece him when he 's drunk. I own the moral not exact, Besides, the tale is false, in fact ; And so absurd, that could I raise up, From fields Elysian, fabling ^sop, I would accuse him to his face, For Ubeling the four-foot race. Creatures of every kind but ours Well comprehend their natural powers, While we, whom reason ought to sway, Mistake our talents every day. The Ass was never known so stupid. To act the part of Tray or Cupid ; Nor leaps upon his master's lap, There to be stroked, and fed with pap. As ^sop would the world persuade ; He better understands his trade : Nor comes whene'er liis lady whistles, But carries loads, and feeds on thistles. Our author's meaning, I presume, is A creature hipes et implumis ; Wherein the morahst design' d A compliment on human kind ; For here he owns, that now and then Beasts may degenerate into men. 212 SATIRIC AL. A NEW SIMILE FOR THE LADIES. WITH USEFUL ANNOTATIONS, DR. THOMAS SHERIDAN.* To make a writer miss his end, You've nothing else to do but mend. I OFTEN tried in vain to find A similet for womankind, A simile, I mean, to fit 'em, In every circumstance to hit 'em. J Through every beast and bird I went, I ransack'd every element ; And, after peeping through all nature, To find so whimsical a creature, A cloud§ presented to my view. And straight this parallel I drew : Clouds turn with every wind aboutj They keep us in suspense and doubt, Yet, oft perverse, like Avomankind, Are seen to scud against the wind : And are not women just the same ? For who can tell at what they aim?|| Clouds keep the stoutest mortals under, When, bellowing,!" they discharge their thnnder: So, when the alarum-bell is rung, Of Xanti's** everlasting tongue, • The following foot-notes, which appear to be Dr. Sheridan's, are replaced from the Irish edition. They hit the ignorance of the ladies in that age. t Most ladies, in reading, call this word a smile; but they are to note, it con- sists of three syllables, sim-i-le. In English, a likeness. t Not to hurt them. § Not like a gun or pistoL I This is not meant as to shooting, but resolving. ^ This word is not here to be understood of a buU, but a cloud, which makes a uoise like a bull, when it thunders. •* Xanti, a nick-name of Xantippe, that scold of glorious memory, who never let poor Socrates have one moment's peace of mind ; yet with imesampled patience he bore her pestilential tongue. I shall beg the ladies' pardon if I insert a- few passages concerning her : and at the same time I assure them it is not to lesson those of the present age, who are possessed of the like laudable talents ; for I will confess, that I know three in the city of Dublin, no way inferior to Xantippe, but that they have not as great men to work upon. When a friend asked Socrates how he could bear the scolding of his wife Xan- tippe, he retorted, and asked him how he could bear the gaggling of bis geesa SATIRICAL. 273 The husband dreads its loudness more Than lightning's flash, or thunder's roar. Clouds weep, as they do, without pain • And what are tears but women's rain ? The clouds about the welkin roam :* And ladies never stay at home. The clouds build castles in the air, A thing peculiar to the fair : For all the schemes of their forecasting,! Are not more solid nor more lasting. A cloud is Hght by turns, and darl^ Such is a lady with her spark ; Now with a sudden poutingj gloom She seems to darken aU the room ; Again she 's pleased, his fear 's beguiled,§ And all is clear when she has smiled. In this they 're wondrously aUke, (I hope this simile will strike)! Though in the darkest dumpsIF you view them, Stay but a moment, you '11 see through them. The clouds are apt to make reflection,** And frequently produce infection : Ay but my geese lay eggs for me, replies his friend ; So does my wife bear chil- dren, said Socrates. — Diog. Laert. Being asked at another time, by a friend, how he could bear her tongue, he said, she was of this use to him, that she taught him to bear the impertinences of others with more ease when he went abroad. — Plat, de Cajnend, ex. hast. uUlit. Socrates invited his friend Euthymedus to supper. Xantippe, in gi-eat rage, went into them, and overset the table. Euthymedus, rising in a passion to go off, My dear friend, stay, said Socrates, did not a hen do the same thing at your house the other day, and did I show any resentment? — Plat, de ira cohibenda. I could give many more instances of her termagancy and his philosophy, if such a proceeding might not look as if I were glad of an opportunity to expose the fair sex ; but, to show that I have no such design, I declare solemnly, that I had much worse stories to tell of her behavior to her husband, which I rather passed over, on account of the great esteem which I bear the ladies, especially those in the honorable station of matrimony. * Ramble. t Not vomiting. X Thrusting out the lip. § This is to be understood not in the sense of wort, when brewers put yeast or barm in it ; but its true meaning is, deceived or cheated. n Hit your fancy. ^ Sullen fits. We have a merry jig called Dumpty-Deary, invented to rouse ladies from the dumps. ** Reflection of the sun. 214 SATIEICAL. So Celia, with small provocation, Blasts every neighbor's reputation. The clouds delight in gaudy show, (For they, like ladies, have their bow ;) . The gravest matron* will confess, That she herself is fond of dress. Observe the clouds in pomp array'd, What various colors are display' d ; The pink, the rose, the violet's dye, In that great drawing-room the sky ; How do these diJBPer from our Graces,t In garden-silks, brocades, and laces ? Are they not such another sight, When met upon a birth-day night ? The clouds delight to change their fashion ; (Dear ladies be not in a passion !) Nor let this whim to you seem strange, Who every hour delight in change. In them and you alike are seen The sullen symptoms of the spleen ; The moment that your vapors rise, We see them dropping from your eyes. In evening fair you may behold The clouds are fring'd with borrow'd gold ; And this is many a lady's case. Who flaunts about in borrow'd lace.J G-rave matrons are like clouds of snow, Where words fall thick, and soft, and slow ; While brisk coquettes, § Hke rattling hail, Our ears on every side assail. Clouds when they intercept our sight, Deprive us of celestial hght : So when my Chloe I pursue. No heaven besides I have in view. * Motherly woman. t Not grace before and after meat, nor their graces the duchesses, but th« Graces which attended on Venus. t Not Flanders-lace, but gold and silver lace. By borrowed, I mean such as run into honest tradesmen's debts, for which they were not able to pay, as many of them did for French silver lace, against the last birth-day. Vide the shop- keepers' books. § Girls who love to hear themselves prate, and put on a numter of monkey- airs to catch men. SATIRICAL. 215 Thus, on comparison,* you see, In every instance they agree ; So Hke, so very much the same, That one may go by t' other's name. Let me proclaimf it then aloud, That every woman is a cloud. ON A LAPDOG. JOHN OAT, Shock's fate I mourn ; poor Shock is now no more: Ye Muses I mourn : ye Chambermaids ! deplore. Unhappy Shock ! yet more unhappy fair, Doom'd to survive thy joy and only care. Thy wretched fingers now no more shall deck, And tie the favorite ribbon round his neck ; No more thy hand shall smooth his glossy hair, And comb the wavings of his pendent ear. Yet cease thy flowing grief, forsaken maid I All mortal pleasures in a moment fade : Our surest hope is in an hour destroy'd, And love, best gift of Heaven, not long enjoy'd. Methinks I see her frantic with despair, Her streaming eyes, wrung hands, and flowing hair* Her Mechlin pinners, rent, the floor bestrow. And her torn fan gives real signs of woe. Hence, Superstition ! that tormenting guest, That haunts with fancied fears the coward breast, No dread events upon this fate attend, Stream eyes no more, no more thy tresses rend. Though certain omens oft forewarn a state. And dying lions show the monarch's fate. Why should such fears bid Celia's sorrow rise ? For when a lapdog falls, no lover dies. Cease, Ceha, cease ; restrain thy flowing tears, Some warmer passion will dispel thy cares. In man you '11 find a more substantial bliss, More grateful toying, and a sweeter kiss. * I hope none will be so uncomplaisant to the ladies as to think these compsr . iBons are odious. t Tell the whole world ; not to proclaim them as robbers and rapparees. 216 SATIRICAL, He 's dead. C^ ! lay him gently in the ground ! And may his l':>mb be by this verse renown'd : " Here Shock, the pride of all his kind, is laid, Who fawn'd Like man, but ne'er like man betray'd." THE RAZOR SELLER. PETER PINDAR A FELLOW in a market town. Most musical, cried razors up and down. And offered twelve for eighteen-pence ; Which certainly seemed wondrous cheap, And for the money quite a heap, As every man would buy, with cash and sense. A country bumpkin the great offer heard : Poor Hodge, who suffered by a broad black beard, That seemed a shoe-brush stuck beneath his ?iose With cheerfulness the eighteen-pence he paid, And proudly to himself, in whispers, said, " This rascal stole the razors, I suppose. " No matter if the fellow he a knave, Provided that the razors shave ; It certainly will be a monstrous prize." So home the clown, with his good fortune, went, Smihng in heart and soul, content, And quickly soaped himself to ears and eyes. Being well lathered from a dish or tub, Hodge now began with grinning pain to grub, Just like a hedger cutting furze : 'T was a vile razor ! — then the rest he tried — All were imposters — " Ah," Hodge sighed 1 " I wish my eighteen-pence within my purse." In 7ain to chase his beard, and bring the graces. He cut, and dug, and winced, and stamped, and swore, Brought blood, and danced, blasphemed, and made wry faces, And cursed each razor's body o'er and o'er : SATJ-RT04L. tX? His muzzle, formed of opposition stuff, Firm as a Foxite, would not lose its ruff: ■ So kept it — laugiiing at the steel and suds : Hodge, in a passion, stretched his angry jaws, 'V owing the direst vengeance, with clenched claws, On the vile cheat that sold the goods. " Razors ! a damned, confounded dog, Not fit to scrape a hog !" Hodge sought the fellow — ^found him — ^and begun : " P'rhaps, Master Razor rogue, to you 'tis fun, That people flay themselves out of their Hves : You rascal ! for an hour have I been grubbing, Giving my crying whiskers here a scrubbing, With razors just Hke oyster knives. Sirrah 1 I tell you, yoii 're a knave, To cry up razors that can't shaved " Friend," quoth the razor-man, "I 'm not a knave. As for the razors you have bought. Upon my soul I never thought That they would shave.'\ " Not think they'd shave!" quoth Hodge, with wond'ring eyes, And voice not much unhke an Indian yell y " What were they made for then, you dog ?" he cries : " Made I" quoth the fellow, with a smile — " to selV THE SAILOR BOY AT PRAYERS. PETER PINDAR. A GREAT law Chief, whom God nor demon scares, Compelled to kneel and pray, who swore his prayers. The devil behind liim pleased and grinning. Patting the angry lawyer on the shoulder. Declaring naught was ever bolder, Admiring such a novel mode of sinning : Like this, a subject would be reckoned rare, Which proves what blood game infidels can dare ; Which to my memory brings a fact. Which nothing but an English tar would act 10 213 SATIBICAL. In ships of war, on Sunday's, prayers are given ; For though so wicked, sailors think of heaven, Particularly in a storm ; Where, if they find no brandy to get drunk, Their souls are in a miserable funk, Then vow they to th' Almighty to reform, If in His goodness only once, once more. He '11 suflfei them to clap a foot on shore. In calms, indeed, or gentle airs. They ne'er on weekdays pester heaven vdth prayers ; For 'tis among the Jacks a common saying, " Where there 's no danger, there 's no need of praying." One Sunday morning all were met To hear the parson preach and pray. All but a boy, who, willing to forget That prayers were handing out, had stolen away, And, thinking praying but a useless task, Had crawled to take a nap, into a cask. The boy was soon found missing, and full soon The boatswain's cat, sagacious smelt him out ; Gave him a clawing to some tune — This cat's a cousin Germain to the Knout. " Come out, you skulking dog," the boatswain cried, " And save your d d young sinful souL" He then the moral-mending cat applied. And turned him like a badger from his hole. Sulky the boy marched on, and did not mind him, Altho' the boatswain flogging kept behind him : " Flog," cried the boy, " flog — curse me, flog away — I '11 go — ^but mind — G- d d — n me if I '11 pray^ BIENSEANCE. PETER PINDAR Theee is a little moral thing in France, Called by the natives hienseance ; Much are the English mob inclined to scout it, But rarely is Monsieur Canaille without it, SATIRICAL. PIP To bienseance 'tis tedious to incline, In many cases ; To flatter, par example, keep smooth facef When kicked, or suffering grievous want of coin. To vulgars, hienseance may seem an oddity — I deem it a most portable commodity ; A sort of magic wand ; Which, if 'tis used with ingenuity, Although a utensil of much tenuity, In place of something sohd, it will stand. For verily I 've marveled times enow To see an Englishman, the ninny, Grive people for their services a guinea, Which Frenchmen have rewarded with a bow. Bows are a bit of bienseance Much practiced too in that same France : Yet called by Quakers, children of inanity ; But as they pay their court to people's vanity, Like rolling-pins they smooth where'er they go The souls and faces of mankind like dough ! With some, indeed, may bienseance prevail To folly — see the under-written tale. THE PETIT MAITRE, AND THE MAN ON THE WHEEL. At Paris some time since, a murdering man, A G-erman, and a most unlucky chap, Sad, stumbhng at the threshold of his plan, Fell into Justice's strong trap. The bungler was condemned to grace the wheel, On which the dullest fibers learn to feel ; His limbs secundum artem to be broke Amid ten thousand people, perhaps, or more ; Whenever Monsieur Ketch appHed a stroke, The culprit, like a bullock, made a roar. A flippant petit maitre skipping by. Stepped up to him and checked him for his cry — 220 SATIRICAL. "Boh!" quoth the G-erman, "an't I 'pon de wheel? D'ye tink my rerfs and bons can't feel ?" " Sir," quoth the beau, " don't, don't be in a passion ; I 've naught to say about your situation ; But making such a hideous noise in France, Fellow, is contrary to hienseance" KINGS AND COURTIERS. PETER PINDAR. How pleasant 'tis the courtier clan to see 1 So prompt to drop to majesty the knee ; To start, to run, to leap, to fly. And gambol in the royal eye ; And, if expectant of some high employ, How kicks the heart against the ribs, for joy ! How rich the incense to the royal nose! How hquidly the oil of flattery flows ! But should the monarch turn from sweet to sour, Which Cometh oft to pass in half an hour. How altered instantly the courtier clan ! How faint ! hov/ pale ! how woe-begone, and wan I Thus Corydon, betrothed to Delia's charms. In fancy holds her ever in his arms : In maddening fancy, cheeks, eyes, lips devours; Plays with the ringlets that all flaxen flow In rich luxuriance o'er a breast of snow. And on that breast the soul of rapture pours. Night, too, entrances — slumber brings the dream — Gives to his lips his idol's sweetest kiss : Bids the wild heart, high panting, swell its stream, And deluge every nerve with bhss : But if his nymph unfortunately frowns. Sad, chapfallen, lo ! he hangs himself or drowns 1 Oh, try with bliss his moments to beguile : Strive not to make your sovereign frown — but smile: hAllBICAL* 221 Sublime are royal nods — most precious things I — Then, to be whistled to by kings ! To hare him lean familiar on one's shoulder, Becoming thus the royal arm upholder, A heart of very stone must grow quite glad. Oh! would some king so far himself demean, As on my shoulder but for once to lean, The excess of joy would nearly make me mad ! How on the honored garment I should dote, And think a glory blazed around the coat I Blessed, I should make this coat my coat of arms, In fancy glittering with a thousand charms ; An d show my children's children o'er and o'er ; " Here, babies," I should say, " with awe behold This coat — worth fifty times its weight in gold : This very, very coat your gi^andsire wore ! " Here" — ^pointing to the shoulder — I should say, *' Here majesty's own hand so sacred lay" — Then p'rhaps repeat some speech the king might utter ; As — "Peter, how go sheep a score? what? what? What 's cheapest meat to make a bullock fat ? Hae ? has ? what, what 's the price of country butter ?" Then should I, strutting, give myself an air, And deem myself adorned with immortality : , Then should I make the children, calf-like stare, And fancy grandfather a man of quality : And yet, not stopping here, with cheerful note, The muse should sing an ode upon the cont. Poor lost America, high honors missing. Knows naught of smile, and nod, and sweet hand-kissing ; Knows naught of golden promises of kings ; Knows naught of coronets, and stars, and strings ; In soHtude the lovely rebel sighs ! But vainly drops the penitential tear — Deaf as the adder to the woman's cries, We suffer not her wail to wound our ear : For food we bid her hopeless children prowl. And with the savao:e of the desert howL 222 SATIRICAL.. PRAYING FOR RAIN. PETER PINDAR How difficult, alas ! to please mankind ! One or the other every moment mutters : This wants an eastern, that a western wind : A third, petition for a southern, utters. Some pray for rain, and some for frost and snow : How can Heaven suit all palates ? — I don't know. Grood Lamb, the curate, much approved, Indeed by all his flock beloved, Was one dry summer begged to pray for rain. The parson most devoutly prayed — The powers of prayer were soon displayed ; Immediately a torrent drenched the plain. It chanced that the church warden, Robin Jay, Had of his meadow not yet saved the hay : Thus was his hay to health quite past restoring. It happened too that Robin was from home ; But when he heard the story, in a foam He sought the parson, Uke a lion roaring. " Zounds I Parson Lamb, why, what have you been doing ? A pretty storm, indeed, ye have been brewing I What ! pray for rain before I saved my hay I Oh ! you 're a cruel and ungrateful man I / that forever help you all I can ; Ask you to dine with me and Mistress J"ay, Whenever we have something on the spit, Or in the pot a nice and dainty bit ; " Send you a goose, a pair of chicken, Whose bones you are so fond of picking ; And often too a cag of brandy ! You that were welcome to a treat, To smoke and chat, and drink and eat ; Making my house so very handy 1 " You, parson, serve one such a scurvy trick 1 Zcunds 1 you must have the bowels of Old Nick. SATIRICAL. 229 What ! bring the flood of Noah from the skies, With my fine field of hay before your eyes ! A numskull, that I wer'n't of this aware. — Curse me but I had stopped your pretty prayer 1" " Dear Mister Jay ?" quoth Lamb, " alas ! alas I I never thought upon your field of grass." " Lord ! parson, you 're a fool, one might suppose — Was not the field just underneath your nose? This is a very pretty losing job I" — " Sir," quoth the curate, " know that Harry Cobb Your brother warden joined, to have the prayer." — " Cobb ! Cobb ! why this for Cobb was only sport : What doth Cobb owd that any rain can hurt f" Roared furious Jay as broad as he could stare. " The fellow owns, as far as I can lam, A few old houses only, and a barn ; As that 's the case, zounds ! what are showers to Mm ? Not Noah's flood could make his trumpery swim. " Besides — why could you not for drizzle pray ? Why force it down in buckets on the hay ? Would / have played with your hay such a freak ? No ! I 'd have stopped the weather for a week." " Dear Mister Jay, I do protest, I acted solely for the best ; I do affirm it, Mister Jay, indeed. Your anger for this once restrain, 1 "U never bring a drop again Tin you and all the parish are agreed." APOLOGY FOR KINGS. PETER PINDAB. As want of candor really is not right, I own my satire too inclined to bite : On kings behold it breakfast, dine, and sup — Now shall she praise, and try to make it up. 224 SATIRICAL. Why will the simple world expect wise things, From lofty folk, particularly kings ? Look on their poverty of education ! Adored and flattered, taught that they are gods, And by their awful frowns and nods, Jove-hke, to shake the pillars of creation 1 They scorn that httle useful imp called mind, Who fits them for the circle of mankind ! Pride their companion, and the world their hate ; Immured, they doze in ignorance and state. Sometimes, indeed, great kings will condescend A httle with their subjects to unbend ! An instance take : — A king of tliis great land, In days of yore, we understand, Did visit Sahsbury's old church so fair : An Earl of Pembroke was the Monarch's g"uide ; Incog, they traveled, shuffling side by side ; And into the cathedral stole the pair. And humbly bowed his neck with reverence down, Low as an ass to Hck a lock of hay : Looking the frightened verger through and through, And with his eye-glass — " Well, sir, who are you ? What, what, sir ? — hsy, sh ?" deigned the king to say. " I am the verger hei'e, most mighty king : In this cathedral I do every thing ; Sweep it, an't please ye, sir, and keep it clean." " Hey ? verger ! verger ! — ^you the verger ? — ^hey ? " Yes, please your glorious majesty, I &e," The verger answered, with the mildest mien. Then turned the king about toward the peer. And winked, and laughed, then whispered in his ear, *' Hey, hey — what, what — fine fellow, 'pon my word : I '11 knight him, knight liim, knight him — hey, my lord ?" [It is a satire-royal : and if any thing were yet wanting to convince us that Master Pindar is no turncoat, here is proof suffi- cient.] ciATIKICAL. 225 Then with his glass, as hard as eye could strain, He kenned the trembhng verger o'er again. " He 's a poor verger, sire," his lordship cried : " Sixpence would handsomely requite him." " Poor verger, verger, hey ?" the king replied : " No, no, then, we won't knight him — no, won't knight him, ** Now to the lofty roof the king did raise His glass, and skipped it o'er with sounds of praise ! For thus his marvehng majesty did speak : '^Fine roof this. Master Verger, quite complete; High — high and lofty too, and clean, and neat : What, verger, what ? wop, mop it once a week ?" " An't please your majesty," with marvehng chops, The verger answered, " we have got no mops In Salisbury that will reach so high." " Not mop, no, no, not mop it," quoth the king — " No, sir, our Sahsbury mops do no such thing ; They might as well pretend to scrub the sky." Moral. This little anecdote doth plainly show That ignorance, a king too often lurches ; For, hid from art, Lord ! how should monarchs know The natural history of mops and churches ? STORY THE SECOND. From Salisbury church to Wilton House, so grand. Returned the mighty ruler of the land — '' My lord, you 've got fine statues," said the king. " A few ! beneath your royal notice, sir," Rephed Lord Pembroke — " Sir, my lord, stir, stir; Let's see them all. all, all, all, every thing. " Who 's this ? who 's this ?— who 's this fine fellow here T " Sesostris," bowing low, rephed the peer. " Sir Sostris, hey ? — Sir Sostris ? — 'pon my word I Knight or a baronet, my lord ? 10* 226 SATIRICAL. One of my making ? — what, my lord, my making ?" This, with a vengeance, was mistaking ? " /Se-sostris, sire," so soft, the peer replied — " A famous king of Egypt, sir, of old." " Oh, poh !" th' instructed monarch snappish cried, " I need not that — I need not that be told." " Pray, pray, my lord, who 's that big fellow there ?" " 'Tis Hercules," repUes the shrinking peer ; " Strong fellow, hey, my lord ? strong fellow, hey ? Cleaned stables ! — cracked a lion Hke a flea ; KiUed snakes, great snakes, that in a cradle found him — The queen, queen's coming ! wrap an apron around him.' Our moral is not merely water-gruel — It shows that curiosity's a jewel ! It shows with kings that ignorance may dwell : It shows that subjects must not give opinions To people reigning over wide dominions, As information to great folk is heU : It shows that decency may Uve with kings, On whom the bold virtu-men turn their backs; And shows (for numerous are the naked things) That saucy statues should be lodged in sacks. ODE TO THE DEVIL. PETER PINDAB. The devil is not so black as he is painted. Ingratum Odi. Jb*RiNCE of the dark abodes 1 I ween Your highness ne'er tiU now hath seen Yourself in meter shine ; Ne'er heard a song with praise sincere, Sweet warbled on your smutty ear, Before this Ode of mine. SATIRICAL. 22V Perhaps the reason is too plain, Thou triest 'o starve the tuneful train, Of poteuo verse afraid ! And yet I vow, in all my time, I 've not beheld a single rhyme That ever spoiled thy trade. I 've often read those pious whims — John Wesley's sweet damnation hymns, That chant of heavenly riches. What have they done ? — those heavenly strains, Devoutly squeezed from canting brains, But filled John's earthly breeches ? There s not a shoe-black in the land, So humbly at the world's command. As thy old cloven foot ; Like lightning dost thou fly, when called. And yet no pickpocket 's so mauled As thou, Prince of Soot ! What thousands, hourly bent on sin, With supplication call thee in. To aid them to pursue it ; Yet, when detected, with a he Eipe at their fingers' ends, they cry, " The Devil made me do it." Behold the fortunes that are made. By men through rouguish tricks in trade, Yet all to thee are owing — And though we meet it every day, The sneaking rascals dare not say, This is the Devil's doing. As to thy company, I 'm sure. No man can shun thee on thafc score j The very best is tliine : With kings, queens, ministp?-? :fstat^ Lords, ladies, I have seen the-* ^/Wf, And many a grave divine. 228 SATIRICAL. I 'm sorely grieved at times to find, The very instant thou art kind, Some people so uncivil, When aught offends, with face awiy^ With base ingratitude to cry, " I vTish it to the Devil." Hath some poor blockhead got a wife, To be the torment of his life. By one eternal yell — The fellow cries out coarsely, "Zounds, I 'd give this moment twenty pounds To see the jade in hell." Should Heaven their prayers so ardent grant^ Thou never company wouldst want To make thee downright mad ; For, mind me, in their wishing mood, They never offer thee what 's good, But every thing that 's bad. My honest anger boils to view A sniffling, long-faced, canting crew, So much thy humble debtors. Rushing, on Sundays, one and aU, With desperate prayers thy head to maul. And thus abuse their betters. To seize one day in every week. On thee their black abuse to wreak, By whom their souls are fed Each minute of the other six, With every joy that heart can fix. Is impudence indeed I Blushing I own thy pleasing art Hath oft seduced my vagrant heart. And led my steps to joy — The charms of beauty have been mine And let me caU the merit thine. Who broughtst the lovely toy. SATIRICAL. 22i% No, Satan — ^if I ask thy aid, To give my arms the blooming maid. I will not, though the nation all, Proclaim thee (like a gracless imp) A vile old good-for-nothing pimp, But say, " 'Tis thy vocation, HaL" Since truth must out — I seldom knew What 't was high pleasure to pursue, Till thou hadst won my heart — So social were we both together. And beat the hoof in every weather, I never wished to part. Yet when a child — good Lord ! I thought That thou a pair of horns hadst got, With eyes like saucers staring 1 And then a pair of ears so stout, A monstrous tail and hairy snout, With claws beyond comparing. Taught to avoid the paths of evil, By day I used to dread the devil, And trembhng when 't was night, Methought I saw thy horns and ears, They sung or whistled to my fears, A.nd ran to chase my fright. And every night I went to bed, I sweated with a constant dread, And crept beneath the rug ; There panting, thought that in my sleep Thou slyly in the dark wouldst creep, And eat me, though so snug. A haberdasher's shop is thine. With sins of all sorts, coarse and fine, To suit both man and maid : Thy wares they buy, with open eyes ; How cruel then, with constant cries, To vilify thy trade I 230 SATIRICAL. To speak the truth, indeed, I 'm loath — Life 's deemed a mawkish dish of broth, "Without thy aid, old sweeper ; So mawkish, few will put it down, Even from the cottage to the crown, Without thy salt and pepper. Satan, whatsoever geer, Thy Proteus form shaU choose to wear, Black, red, or blue, or yeUow ; Whatever hypocrites may say, They think thee (trust my honest lay) A most bewitching fellow. 'Tis ordered (to deaf ears, alas I) To praise the bridge o'er which we Tet often I discover A numerous band who daily make An easy bridge of thy poor back. And damn it when they 're over. Why art thou, then, with cup in hand, Obsequious to a graceless band. Whose souls are scarce worth taking; prince, pursue but my advice, 1 'U teach your highness in a trice To set them aU a quaking. Plays, operas, masquerades, destroy: Lock up each charming y?Zfe dejoie; Give race-horses the glander — The dice-box break, and burn each card- Let virtue be its own reward. And gag the mouth of slander ; Li one W5ek's time, I 'U lay my life, There 's not a man, nor maid, nor wife, That will not glad agree, If thou will charm 'em as before, To show their nose at church no more, But quit their God for thee. SATIEICAL. 231 Tis now full time my ode should end : And now I tell thee like a friend, Howe'er the world may scout thee ; Thy ways are all so wond'rous winning, And folks so very fond of sinning. They can not do without thee. THE KING OF SPAIN AND THE HORSE. PETER PINDAB. In seventeen hundred seventy-eight, The rich, the proud, the potent King of Spain, Whose ancestors sent forth their troops to smite The peaceful natives of the western main, . With faggots and the blood-delighting sword. To play the devil, to obHge the Lord 1 For hunting, roasting heretics, and boiling. Baking and barbecuing, frying, broiling. Was thought Heaven's cause amazingly to further ; For which most pious reason, hard to work. They went, with gun and dagger, knife and fork. To charm the Grod of mercy with their murther I I Bay, this King, in seventy-eight surveyed, In tapestry so rich, portrayed, A horse with stirrups, crupper, bridle, saddle : Within the stirrup, lo, the monarch tried To fix his foot the palfry to bestride ; In vain ! — ^he could n IC Al,. L-^d my G— d, that glib-tongu'd Aiken, My very ir^art ana savil are- quakin To think how we stood groanin', shakin', And swat wi' dread, While Auld wi' hinging lip gaed snaMn', And hiu his head. L— d, in the day of vengeance try him, L — d, visit them wha did employ him, And p.asn not in thy mercy by 'em, Nor hear their pray'r ; But for thy people's sake destroy 'em, And dinna spare. But, L — d, remember me and mine, Wi' mercies temp'ral and divine, That I for gear and grace may shine, ExceU'd by nane. An' a' the glory shall be thine. Amen, Amen ! EPITAPH ON HOLT WILLIB. Here Holy Willie's sair worn clay Taks up its last abode ; His saul has ta'en some other way, I fear, the left-hand road. Stop ! there he is, as sure 's a gun, Poor, silly body, see him ; Nae wonder he 's as black 's the grun— - Observe wha's standing wi' him 1 Your brunstane devilship, I see. Has got him there before ye ; But hand your nine-tail cat a wee, Till ance ye've heard my story. Tour pity I will not unplore. For pity ye hae nane 1 Justice, alas I has gi'en him o*er, And mercy's day is gane. SATIRICAL. 247 But hear me, sir, deil as ye are, Look something to your credit ; A coof like him wad staui your name, If it were kent ye did it. ADDRESS TO THE DEIL. ROBERT BTJENS. "O Prince 1 O Chief of many throned Pow'rs, That led th' embattled Seraphim to warl" — MiLTOH. THOU ! whatever title suit thee, Auld Hornie, Satan, Nick, or Clootie, Wha in yon cavern grim and sootie, Closed under hatches, Spairges about the brunstane cootie, To scaud poor wretches I Hear me, auld Hangie, for a wee, An' let poor damned bodies be ; 1 'm sure sma' pleasure it can gie. E'en to a deil. To skelp an' scaud poor dogs like me, An' hear us squeel 1 Great is thy power, an' great thy fame ; Far kenn'd and noted is thy name : An' tho' yon lowin heugh's thy hame, Thou travels far : An,' faith ! thou's neither lag nor lame. Nor blate nor scaur. Whyles, ranging like a roaring lion, For prey, a' holes an' corners tryin' ; Whyles on the strong-wing' d tempest flyin* Tirlin the kirks ; Whyles, in the human bosom pryin', Unseen thou lurks. I Ve heard my reverend G-rannie say, In lanely glens ye like to stray ; SATIRICAL. Or where auld ruin'd castles, gray, Nod to the moon, Ye fright the nightly wand'rer's way Wi' eldritch croon. When twilight did my Grannie summon To say her prayers, douce, honest woman 1 Aft yont the dyke she 's heard you bummii Wi' eerie drone ; Or, rustlin, thro' the boortries comin', Wi' heavy groan. Ae dreary, windy, winter night. The stars shot down wi' sklentin' Hght, Wi' you, mysel, I gat a fright Ayont the lough ; Ye, like a rash-bush, stood in sight, Wi' waving sough. The cudgel in my nieve did shake. Each bristl'd hair stood hke a stake. When wi' an eldritch, stoor quaick — quj*. <;k- Amang the springs, Awa ye squatter' d, like a drake. On whisthng wings. Let warlocks grim, an' wither'd hags, Tell how wi' you, on ragweed nags, They skim the muirs an' dizzy crags, Wi' wicked speed ; An d in kirk-yards renew their leagues Owre howkit dead. Thence countra wives, wi' toil an' pain. May plunge an' plunge the kirn in vain : For, oh ! the yellow treasure 's taen By witching skill * An' dawtit, twal-pint hawkie's gaen As yell's the bill Thence mystic knots mak great abuse On young guidmen, fond, keen, an' crouse , SATIRICAL. 249 When the best wark-lume i' the house, By cantrip wit^ Is instant made no worth a louse, Just at the bit. When thowTIPTr/7. I said " De Yere" was chastely tcld, Thought well of " Herbert Lacy," Called Mr. Banim's sketches " bold," And Lady Morgan's " racy ;" I vowed the last new thing of Hook's "Was vastly entertaining ; And Laura said — " I dote on books, Because it's always raining!" I talked of music's gorgeous fane, I raved about Rossini, Hoped Ronzo would come back again, And criticized Paccini ; I wished the chorus singers dumb. The trumpets more pacific, And eulogized Brocard's aplomh And voted Paul " terrific." What cared she for Medea'« ■n^^'^t^ Or Desdemona's sorrow ? " Alas !" my beauteous hstener sighed, " We must have storms to-morrow 1" I told her tales of other lands ; Of ever-boiling fountains, Of poisonous lakes, and barren sands, Vast forests, trackless mountains ; I painted bright ItaHan skies, I lauded Persian roses. Coined similes for Spanish eyes. And jests for Indian noses ; I laughed at Lisbon's love of mass, And Vienna's dread of treason ; And Laura asked me where the glass Stood at Madrid last season. I broached whate'er had gone its rounds, The week before, of scandal ; What made Sir Luke lay down his hounds And Jane take up her Handel ; Why Julia walked upon the heath. With the pale moon above her ; Where Flora lost her false front ""eeth, And Anne her false lover; SATIKICAL. 316 How Lord de B. and Mrs. L. Had crossed the sea together ; My shuddering partner cried — "Oh, Cell How could they in such weather ?" Was she a blue ? — I put my trust In strata, petals, gases ; A boudoir pedant ? — I discussed The toga and the fasces ; A cockney-muse ? — I mouthed a deal Of folly from Endymion : A saint ? — I praised the pious zeal Of Messrs. Way and Simeon ; A pohtician ? — It was vain To quote the morning paper ; The horrid phantoms come again, Eain, hail, and snow, and vapor. Flat flattery was my only chance, I acted deep devotion, Found magic in her every glance, Grace in her every motion ; I wasted all a stripling's lore, Prayer, passion, folly, feehng; And wildly looked upon the floor, And wildly on the ceiling ; I envied gloves upon her arm, And shawls upon her shoulder ; And when my worship was most warm, She " never found it colder." I don't object to wealth or land * And she will have the giving Of an extremely pretty hand, Some thousands, and a hving. She makes silk purses, broiders stooU, Sings sweetly, dances finely, Paints screens, subscribes to Sunday-schools, And sits a horse divinely. But to be linked for life to her ! — The desperate man who tried it, ilight marry a barometer, And hang himself beside it I SIP SATTFICAL. THE BELLE OF THE BALL. W. MACKWORTH PRAED. Years — years ago- ere yet my dreams Had been of being wise and witty ; Ere I had done with writing themes, Or yawn'd o'er this infernal Chitty; Years, years ago, while all my joys Were in my fowhng-piece and filly : In short, while I was yet a boy, I fell in love with Laura Lilly. I saw her at a country baU ; There when the sound of flute and fiddle Gave signal sweet in that old haU, Of hands across and down the middle, Hers was the subtlest spell by far Of all that sets young hearts romancing : She was our queen, our rose, our star ; And when she danced — oh, heaven, her dancing I Dark was her hah, her hand was wliite ; Her voice was exquisitely tender, Her eyes were full of Hquid hght ; I never saw a waist so slender ; Her every look, her every smile. Shot right and left a score of arrows ; I thought 't was Venus from her isle, I wondered where she 'd left her sparrows. She talk'd of pohtics or prayers ; Of Southey's prose, or Wordsworth's sonnets ; Of daggers or of dancing bears. Of battles, or the last new bonnets ; By candle-light, at twelve o'clock. To me it matter'd not a tittle. If those bright hps had quoted Locke, I might have thought they murmured Little. Through sunny May, through sultry June, I loved her with a love eternal ; I spoke her praises to the moon, I wrote them for the Sunday Journal. SATIRICAL. 317 My mother laughed ; I soon found out That ancient ladies have no feeling ; My father frown'd; but how should gout Find any happiness in kneeling ? She was the daughter of a dean, Rich, fai, and rather apoplectic ; She had one brother just thirteen, Whose color was extremely hectic ; Her grandmother, for many a year, Had fed the parish with her bounty ; Her second cousin was a peer. And lord-heutenant of the county. But titles and the three per cents. And mortgages, and great relations, And India bonds, and tithes and rents, Oh I what are they to love's sensations ? Black eyes, fair forehead, clustering locks. Such wealth, such honors, Cupid chooses ; He cares as little for the stocks. As Baron Rothschild for the muses. She sketch'd ; the vale, the wood, the beach, Grew lovelier from her pencil's shading; She botanized ; I envied each Young blossom in her boudoir fading ; She warbled Handel ; it was grand — She made the Catahna jealous ; She touch'd the organ ; I could stand For hours and hom^s and blow the bel'Dwa She kept an album, too, at home. Well fill'd with all an album's glories; Paintings of butterflies and Rome, Patterns for trimming, Persian stories ; Soft songs to JuHa's cockatoo, Fierce odes to famine and to slaughter ; And autographs of Prince Laboo, And recipes of elder water. And she was flatter' d, worship' d, bored, Her steps were watch' d, her dress was noted, S18 SATIRICAL. Her poodle dog was quite adored, Her sayings were extremely quoted. She laugh'd, and every heart was glad, As if the taxes were abolish'd ; She frown' d, and every look was sad, As if the opera were demolishd. She smil'd on many just for fun — I knew that there was nothing in it; I was the first the only one Her heart thought of for a minute ; I knew it, for she told me so, In phrase which was divinely molded; She wrote a charming hand, and oh! How sweetly all her notes were folded I Our love was like most other loves — A httle glow, a httle shiver ; A rosebud and a pair of gloves, And "Fly Not Yet," upon the river; Some jealotisy of some one's heir. Some hopes of dying broken-hearted, A miniature, a lock of hair. The usual vows — and then we parted. We parted — months and years roU'd by ; We met again for summers after ; Our parting was all sob and sigh — Our meeting was aU mirth and laughter ; For in my heart's most secret ceU, There had been many other lodgers ; And she was not the ball-room belle, But only Mrs. — Something — Rogers. SORROWS OF WERTHER. W. MAKEPEACE THAORERAT. Werther had a love for Charlotte Such as words could never utter ; Would you know how first he met her ? She was cutting bread and butter. SATIEICAL. 319 Charlotte was a married lady, And a moral man was Werther, And for all the wealth of Indies, Would do nothing? for to hurt her. So he sighed and pined and ogled, And his passion boiled and bubbled, Till he blew his silly brains out, And no more was by it troubled. Charlotte, having seen his body Borne before her on a shutter, Like a well-conducted person. Went on cutting bread and butter. THE YANKEE VOLUNTEERS. W. MAKEPEACE THACKERAY. [" A surgeon of the United States army says, that on inquiring of the Captain of his company, he found that nine tenths of the men had enlisted on account of Bome female difficulty."] — Morning Paper. Ye Yankee volunteers ! It makes my bosom bleed When I your story read, Though oft 'tis told one. So — in both hemispheres The woman are untrue. And cruel in the New, As in the Old one ! What — in this company Of sixty sons of Mars, Who march 'neath Stripes and Stars, With fife and horn, Nine tenths of all we see Along the warlike line Had but one cause to joiu This Hope Folorn V 320 SATIRICAL. Deserters from the realm Where tyrant Venus reigns, You slipped her wicked chains. Fled and out-ran her. And now, with sword and helm, Together banded are Beneath the Stripe and Star- embroidered banner ! And so it is with aU The warriors ranged in Kne, With lace bedizened fine And swords gold-hilted — Yon lusty corporal. Yon color-man who gripes The flag of Stars and Stripes- Has each been jilted ? Come, each man of this line, The privates strong and tall, " The pioneers and aU," The fifer nimble — Lieutenant and Ensign, Captain with epaulets. And Blacky there, who beats The clanging cymbal — cymbal-beating black, TeU us, as thou canst feel, Was it some Lucy Neal Who caused thy ruin ? nimble fifing Jack, And drummer making din So deftly on the skin, With thy rat-tattooing. Confess, ye volunteers, Lieutenant and Ensign, And Captain of the line, As bold as Roman — SATIRICAL. 321 Confess, ye grenadiers, However strong and tall, Tlie Conqueror of you all Is Woman, Woman I No corselet is so proof. But through it from her bow, The shafts that she can throw Will pierce and rankle. No champion e'er so tough, But 's in the struggle thrown, And tripped and trodden down By her slim ankle. Thus, always it has ruled, And when a woman smiled. The strong man was a child, The sage a noodle. Alcides was befooled. And silly Samson shorn. Long, long ere you were born, Poor Yankee Doodle ! COURTSHIP AND MATRIMONY A POEM, m TWO CANTOS. PUNOH. CANTO THE FIRST. COURTSHIP. ^'aihest of earth 1 if thou wilt hear my vow, Lo ! at thy feet I swear to love thee ever ; A.nd by this kiss upon thy radiant brow. Promise affection^ which no time shall sever ; Ind love which e'er shall burn as bright as now, To be extinguished — ^never, dearest, never I Wilt thou thax naughty, fluttering heart resign ? Catherine ! my own sweet Kate ! wilt thou be mine ? 14* 822 SATIKICAL. Thou shalt have pearls to deck thy raven hair — Thou shalt have all this world of ours can bring , And we will live in sohtude, nor care For aught save for each other. We will fling Away all sorrow — ^Eden shall be there ! And thou shalt be my queen, and I thy king I Still coy, and still reluctant ? Sweetheart say, When shall we monarchs be ? and wliich the day? CANTO THE SECOND. MATRIMONY. Kow Mrs. Pringle, once for all, I say I will not such extravagance allow I Bills upon bills, and larger every day. Enough to drive a man to drink, I vow I Bonnets, gloves, frippery and trash — nay, nay, Tears, Mrs. Pringle, will not gull me now — I say I won't allow ten pounds a week ; I can't afford it ; madam, do not speak ! In wedding you I thought I had a treasure ; I find myself most miserably mistaken ! You rise at ten, then spend the day in pleasure ; — In fact, my confidence is slightly shaken. Ha ! what 's that uproar ? Tliis, ma'am, is my leiaure ; Sufficient noise the slumbering dead to waken ! I seek retirement, and I find — a riot ; Confound those children, but I'll make them quiet I CONCERNING SISTERS-IN-LAW. PITNOH. I. They looked so alike as they sat at their work, ^What a pity t is that one is n't a Turk !) The same glances and smiles, the same habits and arts, The same tastes, the same frocks, and (no doubt) the same heartr SATIKICAL. 823 The same irresistible cut in their jibs, The same little jokes, and the same little fibs — That I thought the best way to get out of my pain Was by — heads for Maria, and woman for Jane ; For hang me if it seemed it could matier a straw, Which dear became wife, and which sister-in-law. n. But now, I will own, I feel rather inclined To suspect I 've some reason to alter my mind ; And the doubt in my breast daily grows a more strong one,. That they 're not quite alike, and I 've taken the wrong one. Jane is always so gentle, obliging, and cool ; Never calls me a monster — not even a fool ; All our Httle contentions, 'tis she makes them up, And she knows how much sugar to put in my cup : — Yes, I sometimes have wished — Heav'n forgive me the flaw !— That my very dear wife was my sister-in-law. in. Oh, your sister-in-law, is a dangerous thing ! The daily comparisons, too, she will bring ! Wife — curl-papered, slip-shod, unwashed and undressed ; She — ringleted, booted, and "fixed in her best;" Wife — sulky, or storming, or preaching, or prating ; She — merrily singing, or laughing, or chatting : Then the innocent freedom her friendship allows To the happy half-way between mother and spouse. In short, if the Devil e'er needs a cat's-paw, He can't find one more sure than a sister-in-law. IV. That no good upon earth can be had undiluted Is a maxim experience has seldom refuted ; And preachers and poets have proved it is so With abundance of tropes, more or less apropos. Every hght has its shade, every rose has its thorn, The cup has its head-ache, its poppy the corn ; There 's a fly in the ointment, a spot on the sun — In short, they 've used all illustrations — but one ; And have left it to me the most striking to draw — Viz. : that none, without wives, can have sisters-in-law. 324 SATIlilCAL, THE LOBSTERS.* As a young Lobster roamed about> Itself and mother being out, Their eyes at the same moment ftJl On a boiled lobster's scarlet shell. " Look," said the younger ; " is it true That we might wear so bright a hue ? No coral, if I trust mine eye, Can with its starthng brilUance vie ; While you and I must be content A dingy aspect to present." " Proud heedless fool," the parent cried ; " Know'st thou the penalty of pride ? The tawdry finery you wish. Has ruined this unhappy fish. The hue so much by you desired By his destruction was acquired — So be contented with your lot, Nor seek to change by going to pDt." PUNOH. TO SONG-BIRDS ON A SUNDAY. PUNCH. Silence, all I ye winged choir ; Let not yon right reverend sire Hear your happy symphony : 'Tis too good for such as he. On the day of rest divine, He poor townsfolk vould confine In their crowded streets and lanes, Where they can not hear your strains. AU the week they drudge away, Having but one hoHday ; No more time for you, than that — Unlike bishops, rich and fat. • Appeared at the time of the Anti-popery excitement, produced by the title* of Cardinal "Wiseman, etc. SATIRICAL. 325 Utter not your cheerful sounds, Therefore, in the bishop's grounds; Make him melody no more, Who denies you to the poor. Linnet, hist ! and blackbird, hush I Throstle, be a songless thrush ; Nightingale and lark, be mute ; Never sing to such a brute. Robin, at the twilight dim, Never let thine evening hymn, Bird of red and ruthful breast, Lend the bishop's Port a zest. Soothe not, birds, his lonesome hours, Keeping us from fields and flowers, Who to pen us tries, instead, 'Mong the intramural dead. Only let the raven croak At him from the rotten oak ; Let the magpie and the jay Chatter at him on his way. And when he to rest has laid him, Let his ears the screech-owl harry ; And the night-jar serenade him With a proper charivari. THE FIRST SENSIBLE VALENTINE. (one of TtiE MOST ASTONISHING FRUITS OF THE EMIGRATION MANIA.) PUNCH. Let Other swains, upon the best cream-laid Or wire-wove note, their amorous strains indite ; Or, in despair, invoke the hmner's aid To paint the sufferings they caq not write : 826 SATIRICAL. Upon their page, transfixed with numerous darta, Let slender youths in agony expire ; Or, on one spit, let two pale pink calves' hearts Eoast at some fierce imaginary fire. Let Angelina there, as in a bower Of shrubs, unknown to Lindley, she reposes, See her own Alfred to the old church tower Led on by Cupid, in a chain of roses ; Or let the wreath, when raised, a cage reveal, Wherein two doves their Httle bills entwine ; (A vile device, which always makes me feel Marriage would only add your bills to mine.) For arts like these I 've neither skill nor time ; But if you '11 seek the Diggings, dearest maid, And share my fortune in that happier chme. Your berth is taken, and your passage paid. For reading, lately, in my list of things, " Twelve dozen shirts ! twelve dozen collars," too! The horrid host of buttons and of strings Flashed on my spirit, and I thought — of you. " Surely," I said, as in my chest I dived — That vast receptacle of all things known — " To teach this truth my outfit was contrived, It is not good for man to be alone 1" Then fly with me ! My bark is on the shore (Her mark A 1, her size eight hundred tons). And though she 's nearly full, can take some more Dry goods, by measurement — say Green and SoNa Yes, fly vsdth me ! Had all our friends been blind, We might have married, and been happy here / But since young married folks the means must find The eyes of stern society to cheer. And satisfy its numerous demands, I think 'twill save us many a vain expense. If on our wedding cards this ISTotice stands, *' At Home, at Ballarat, just three months hence I" SATIRICAL. 327 A SCENE ON THE AUSTRIAN FEONTZER. PUNCH. "Det must not pass !" was the warning cry of the Austrian sen- tinel To 0P« whose little knapsack bore the books he loved so welL *' They must not pass ? Now, wherefore not ?" the wond'ring tourist cried ; ''No Enghsh book can pass mit me ;" the sentinel replied. The tourist laughed a scornful laugh ; quoth he, " Indeed, I hope There are few Enghsh books would please a Kaiser or a Pope ; But these are books in common use : plain truths and facts they tell—" " Der Teufel 1 Den dey most not pass !" said the startled sentind. " This Handbook to North Germany, by worthy Mr. Murray, Need scarcely put your government in such a mighty flurry ; If tourists' handbooks be proscribed, pray have you ever tried To find a treasonable page in Bradshaws Railway Guide f This map, again, of Switzerland — nay, man, you need n't start or Look black at such a httle map, as if 't were Magna Charta ; I know it is the land of Tell, but, curb your idle fury — We 've not the shghtest hope, to-day, to find a Tell in your eye (Uri)." " Sturmwetter I" said the sentinel, " Come ! cease dis idle babbles I Was ist dis oder book I see ? Das Haus mit sieben Grabbles? I ne ware heard of him bifor, ver mosh I wish I had. For now Ich kann nicht let him pass, for fear he should be bad. Das Haus of Commons it must be ; Ja wohl ! 'tis so, and den Die Sieben Cabbies are de talk of your chief public men ; Potzmiekchen ! it is dreadful books. Ja ! Ja 1 I know him well ; Hoch Himmel ! here he most not pass :" said the learned sen- tinel ** Dis Plato, too, I ver mosh fear, he wiU corrupt the land, He has soch many long big words, Ich kann nicht onderstand." '' My friend," the tourist said, " I fear you 're really in the way to Quite change the proverb, and be fi:iends with neither Truth nor Plato. 328 SATIRICAL. My books, 'tis true, are little worth, but they have served me long. And I regard the greatness less than the nature of the wrong; So, if the books must stay behind, I stay behind as well." "Es ist mir nichts, mein lieber Freund," said the courteous sen- tinel ODE TO THE GREAT SEA-SERPENT ON HIS WON- DERFUL REAPPEARANCE. PUNCH. From what abysses of the unfathom'd sea Turnest thou up, Great Serpent, now and then, K we may venture to beUeve in thee. And affidavits of sea-faring men ? What whirlpool giilf to thee affords a home ! Amid the unknown depths where dost thou dwell i\ If— like the mermaid, with her glass and comb — Thou art not what the vulgar call a Sell. Art thou, indeed, a serpent and no sham ? Or, if no serpent, a prodigious eel, An entity, though modified by flam, A basking shark, or monstrous kind of seal ? I 'U think that thou a true Ophidian art ; I can not say a reptile of the deep. Because thou dost not play a reptile's part ; Thou swimmest, it appears, and dost not creep. The Captain was not Walker but M'Quh^, I '11 trust, by whom thou some time since wast seen ; And him who says he saw thee t'other day, I will not bid address the corps marine. Sea-Serpent, art thou venomous or not ? What sort of snake may be thy class and style ? That of Mud-Python, by Apollo shot, And mentioned — rather often — hj Carlyle ? SA^TlfilCAL. 320 Or, art thou but a serpent of the mind ? Doubts, though subdued, will oft recur again — A serpent of the visionary kind, Proceeding from the grog-oppressed brain ? Art thou a giant adder, or huge asp. And hast thou got a rattle at thy tail ? If of the Boa species, couldst thou clasp Within thy fold, and suffocate, a whale ? How long art thou? — Some sixty feet, they say, And more — but how much more they do not know: I fancy thou couldst reach across a bay From head to head, a dozen miles or so. Scales hast thou got, of course — but what 's thy weight ? On either side 'tis said tliou hast a fin, A crest, too, on thy neck, deponents state, A saw-shaped ridge of flabby,, dabby skin. If I could clutch thee — in a giant's grip — Could I retain thee in that grasp subKme ? Wouldst thou not quickly through my fingers slip. Being all over glazed with fishy slime ? Hast thou a forked tongue — and dost thou hiss If ever thou art bored with Ocean's play ? And is it the correct hypothesis That thou of gills or lungs dost breathe by way ? What spines, or spikes, or claws, or na^^s, or fin. Or paddle, Ocean-Serpent, dost thou bear ? What kind of teeth show'st thou when thou dost grin?— A set that probably would make one stare. What is thy diet? Canst thou gulp a shoal Of herrings? Or hast thou the gorge and room To bolt fat porpoises and dolphins, whole. By dozens, e'en as oysters we consume ? Art thou alone, thou serpent, on the brine, The sole surviving member of thy race ? Is there no brother, sister, wife, of thine. But thou alone, afloat on Ocean's face ? !30 SATIRICAL. If such a calculation may be made, Thine age at what a figure may we take ? When first the granite mountain-stones were laid, Wast thou not present there and then, old Snake ? What fossil Saurians in thy time have been ? How many Mammoths crumbled into mold ? What geologic periods hast thou seen, Long as the tail tliou doubtless canst unfold ? As a dead whale, but as a whale, though dead, Thy floating bulk a British crew did strike ; And, so far, none will question what they said, That thou unto a whale wast very like. A flock of birds a record, rather loose, Describes as hovering o'er thy lengthy hull ; Among them, doubtless, there was many a Goose, And also several of the genus GuU. THE FEAST OF VEGETABLES, AND THE FLOW OF WATER. PUNCH. New Year comes, — so let 's be jolly ; On the board the Turnip smokes. While we sit beneath the holly, Eating Greens and passing jokes How the Cauliflower is steaming. Sweetest flower that ever blows I See, good old Sir Kidney, beaming, Shows his jovial famed red nose. Here behold the reign of Plenty, — Help the Carrots, hand the Kail ; Roots how nice, and herbs how dainty. Well washed down with Adam's Ale I SATIRICAL. '631 Feed your fill, — untasted only- Let the fragrant onion go ; Or, amid the revels lonely. Go not nigh the mistletoe 1" KINDRED QUACKS. PUNCH. 1 OVERHEARD two matrons grave, allied by close aflS aity (The name of one was Physic, and the other's was Divinity), As they put their groans together, both so doleful and lugu- brious : Says Physic, " To unload the heart of grief, ma'am, is salubri- ous: Here am I, at my time of life, in tliis year of our deliverance ; My age gives me a right to look for some esteem and reverence. But, ma'am, I feel it is too true what every body says to me, — Too many of my children are a shame and a disgrace to me." " Ah !" says Divinity, " my heart can suffer with another, ma'am ; I 'm sure I can well understand your feelings as a mother, ma'am. I Ve some, as well, — no doubt but what you 're perfectly aware on't, ma'am, Whose doings bring derision and discredit on their parent, ma'am." " There are boys of mine," says Physic, " ma'am, such sUly fancies nourishing, As curing gout and stomach-ache by pawing and by flourishing." " Well," says Divinity, " I 've those that teach that Heaven's beatitudes Are to be earned by postures, genuflexions, bows, and attitudes." " My good-for-nothing sons," says Physic, " some have turned hydropathists. Some taken up with mesmerism, or joined the homoeopathists." 832 SATIRICAL. " Miue," says Divinity, " pursue a system of gimcrackery, Called Puseyism, a pack of stuff, and quite as arrant quackery." Says Physic, " Mine have sleep-walkers, pretending through the hide of you, Tj look, although their eyes are shut, and tell you what 's inside of you." " Ah 1" says Divinity, " so mine, with quibbling and with cavil- ing, Would have you, ma'am, to blind yourself, to see the road to travel in." " Mine," Physic says, " have quite renounced their good old pilla and potions, ma'am, For doses of a billionth of a grain, and such wild notions, ma'am." " So," says Divinity, " have mine left wholesome exhortation, ma'am. For credence-tables, reredoses, rood-lofts, and maceration, ma'am." " But hospitals," says Physic, " my misguided boys are founding, ma'am." " Well," says Divinity, '* of mine, the chapels are abounding, ma'am." " Mine are trifling with diseases, ma'am," says Physic, " not at- tacking them." " Mine," says Divinity, " instead of curing souls, are quacking them." " Ah, ma'am," says Physic, " I 'm to blame, I fear, for these ab- surdities." " That 's my fear too," Divinity says ; " ma'am, upon my word it is." Says Physic, " Fees, not science, have been far too much my wishes, ma'am." " Truth," says Divinity, " I 've loved much less than loaves and fishes, ma'am. ' SATIRICAL. 833 Says each to each, " We 're sunpletons, or sad deceivers, some of us; And I am sura ma'am, I don't know whatever will become of us." THE RAILWAY TRAVELER'S FAREWELL TO HIS FAMILY. PUNOH. 'T WAS business call'd a Father to travel by the Rail ; His eye was calm, his hand was firm, although his cheek was pale. He took Ills little boy and girl, and set them on his knee ; And their mother hung about his neck, and her tears flowed fast and free. I 'm going by the Rail, my dears — ^Eliza, love, don't cry — Now, kiss me both before I leave, and wish Papa good-by. I hope I shall be back again, this afternoon, to tea. And then, I hope, alive and well, that your Papa you 'U see. I 'm going by the Rail, my dears, where the engines puff and hiss ; And ten to one the chances are that something goes amiss ; And in an instant, quick as thought — before you could cry " Ah I" An accident occurs, and — say good-by to poor Papa 1 Sometimes from scandalous neglect, my dears, the sleepers sink, And then you have the carriages upset, as you may think. The progress of the train, sometimes, a truck or coal-box checks, And there 's a risk for poor Papa's, and every body's necks. Or there may be a screw loose, a hook, or bolt, or pin — Or else an iU-made tunnel may give way, and tumble in ; And in the wreck the passengers and poor Papa remain Confined, till down upon them comes the next Excursion-train, If a policeman 's careless, dears, or if not over-bright. When he should show a red flag, it may be he shows a white ; Between two trains, in consequence, there 's presently a clash, If poor Papa is only bruised, he 's lucky in the smash. 334 SATIRICAL. Points may be badly managed, as they were the other day^ Because a stingy Company for hands enough won't pay ; Over and over goes the train — the engine off the rail, And poor Papa 's unable, when he 's found, to tell the tal«. And should your poor Papa escape, my darhngs, with his life; May he return on two legs, to his children and his wife — With both his arms, my little dears, return your fond embrace. And present to you, unalter'd, every feature of his face. I hope I shall come back, my dears — ^but, mind, I am insured — So, in case the worst may happen, you are so far all decured. An action then will also he for you and your Mamn»d — And don't forget to bring it — on account of poor Paj)a. A LETTER AND AN ANSWER. PUNCH. THE PRESBYTERS TO PALMERSTON. The Plague has come among us. Miserable sinners! Fear and remorse have stung us. Miserable sinners ! We ask the State to fix a day. Whereon all men may fast and pray, That Heaven will please to turn away The Plague that works us sore dismay, Miserable sinners ! PALMERSTON TO THE PRESBYTERS. The Plague that comes among you, Miserable sinners ! To effort hath it strung you ? Miserable sinners I You ask that all should fast and pray ; Better all wake and work, I say ; Sloth and supineness put away, That so the Plague may cease to slay ; Miserable sinners I SATimcAL. 336 For Plagues, like other evils, Miserable sinners ! Are God's and not the Devil's, Miserable sinners ! Scourges they are, but in a hand Which love and pity do command ; And when the heaviest stripes do fall, 'Tis where they 're wanted most of all, Miserable sinners I Look round about your city, Miserable sinners ! Arouse to shame and pity. Miserable sinners ! Pray : but use brush and hmewash pail ; jH'ast : but feed those for want who fail ; Bow down, gude town, to ask for grace. But bow with cleaner hands and face, Miserable sinners ! All Time God's Law hath spoken, Miserable sinners ! That Law may not be broken. Miserable sinners ! But he that breaks it must endure The penalty which works the cure. To us, for God's great laws transgressed. Is doomsman Pestilence addressed, Miserable sinners ! We can not juggle Heaven, Miserable sinners! With one day out of seven, Miserable sinners I Shall any force of fasts atone For years of duty left undone ? How expiate with prayer or psalm, Deaf ear, blind eye, and folded palm ? Miserable sinners 1 Let us be up and stirring, Miserable sinners I X^Q SATIRICAL. 'Mong ignorant and erring, Miserable sinners ! Sloth and self-seeking from us cast, Believing this the fittest fast, For of all prayers prayed 'neath the sun There is no prayer like work weU done, Miserable sinners 1 PAPA TO HIS HEIR, A FAST MINOR. puNoa My son, a father's warning heed ; I think my end is nigh : And then, you dog, you will succeed Unto my property. But, seeing you are not, just yet, Arrived at man's estate, Before you full possession get, You '11 have a while to wait. A large allowance I allot You during that delay; And I don't recommend you not To throw it all away. To such advice you 'd ne'er attend ; You won't let prudence rule Your courses ; but, I know, vnll spend Your money like a fooL I do not ask you to eschew The paths of vice and sin ; You '11 do as all young boobies, who Are left, as you say, tin. SATIRICAL. 3A1 You '11 sot, you '11 bet ; and, being green. At all that 's right you '11 joke ; Your life will be a constant scene Of billiards and of smoke. With bad companions you '11 consort, With creatures vile and base, Who '11 rob you ; yours will be, in short, The puppy's common case. But oh, my son ! although you must Through this ordeal pass. You will not be, I hope — I trust — A wholly senseless ass. Of course at prudence you wiU sneer, On that theme I won't harp ; Be good, I won't say — ^that 's severe ; But be a Uttle sharp. All rascally associates shun To bid you were too mucb^ But, oh! beware, my spooney iOn. Beware one k'nd of such. It asks no penetrative mind To know these fellows: when You meet them, you, unless you V ^lisjd, At once discern the men. The turgid hp, the piggish eye, The nose in form of hook. The rings, the pins, you tell them by. The vulgar flashy look. Spend every sixpence, if you please, But do not, I implore, Oh 1 do not go, my son, to these Vultures to borrow more. 15 338 SATIRICAL. Live at a foolish wicked rate, My hopeful, if you choose, But don't your means anticipate Through bill-discounting Jews. SELLING OFF AT THE OPERA HOUSE A POETICAL CATALOGUE. PUNCH. Lot One, The weU-known village, with bridge, and church, and green, Of half a score divertissements the well-remembered scene, Including six substantial planks, forming the eight-inch ridge On which the happy peasantry came dancing down the bridge. Lot Two, A Sheet of Thunder. Lot Three, A Box of Peas Employed in sending storms of hail to rattle through the trees. Lot Four, A Canvas Mossy Bank for Cupids to repose. Lot Five, The old Stage Watering-pot, complete — except the nose. Lot Six, The favorite Water-mill, used for Amino! s dream, Complete, with practicable wheel, and painted canvas stream. Lots Seven to Twelve, Some sundries — A Pair of Sylphide's Wings ; Three dozen Druid's Dresses (one of them wanting strings). Lots Thirteen, Fourteen, Fift-een — Three Services of Plate In real papier macM — aU in a decent state ; One of these services includes — its value to increase — A fuU dessert, each plate of fruit forming a single piece. Lot Seventeoo, The Gilded Cup, from which Gfenarro quaffed, 'Mid loud applause, night after night, Lucrezia's poisoned draught Lots Eighteen, Nineteen, Twenty, Three rich Wliite Satin Skirts. Lot Twenty-one, A set of six Swiss Peasants' Cotton Shirts. Lot Twenty-two, The sheet that backed Masaniello's tent. Lot Twenty-three, The Long White Wig — in wool — of Bide-ihe- Bent. Lots Twenty-three to Forty, The Fish — Soles, Cod, and Dace— For pelting the Vice-regal Guard in Naples' Market-place. Lot Forty-one, Vesuvius, rather the worse for wear. Lots Forty-two to Fifty, Priests' Leggings — at per pair. Lot Fifty-one, The well-known Throne, with canopy ^nd seAt And plank in front, for courtiers to kneel at Sover ^iigns' f«ot SATIRICAL. 339 Lot Fifty-two, A Royal Robe of Flannel, nearly white, Warranted equal to Cashmere — upon the stage at night — With handsome ermine collar thrown elegantly back ; The tails of twisted worsted — pale yellow, tipped with black. Lots Fifty-three to Sixty, Some Jewellery rare — The Crown of Semirarmde — complete, with false back hair ; The Order worn by Ferdinand^ when he proceeds to fling His sword and medals at the feet of the astonished king. Lot Sixty-one, The Bellows used in Cinderella's song. Lot Sixty-two, A Document. Lot Sixty-three, A Gong. Lots Sixty-four to Eighty, Of Wigs a large array, Beginning at the Druids down to the present day. Lot Eighty-one, The Bedstead on which Amina falls. Lots Eighty-two to Ninety, Some sets of Outer Walls. Lot Ninety-one, The Furniture of a Grand Ducal Room, Including Chair and Table. Lot Ninety-two, A Tomb. Lot Ninety-three, A set of Kilts. Lot Ninety-four, A Rill. Lot Ninety-five, A Scroll, To form death-warrant, deed, or will. Lot Ninety-six, An ample fall of best White Paper Snow. Lot Ninety-seven, A Drinking-cup, brimmed with stout extra tow. Lot Ninety-eight, A Set of Clouds, a Moon, to work on flat ; Water with practicable boat. Lot Ninety-nine, A Hat. Lot Hundred, Massive Chandelier. Hundred and one, A Bower, Hundred and two, A Canvas Grove. Hundred and three, A Tower. Hundred and four, A Fountain. Hundred and five. Some Rocks. Hundred and six, The Hood that hides the Prompter in his box. WONDERS OF THE VICTORIAN AGE. PUNCH. Our gracious Queen — long may she fill her throne — Has been to see Louis Napoleon. The Majesty of England — bless her heart! — Has cut her mutton with a Bonaparte ; And Cousin Germans have survived the view Of Albert taking luncheon at St. Cloud. In our young days we Httle thought to see Such legs stretched under such mahogany; 340 SATIRICAL. That British Royalty would ever share At a French Palace, Erench Imperial fare : Nor eat — as we should have beheved at school— The croaking tenant of the marshy pooL At the Trois Freres we had not feasted then, As we have since, and hope to do again. This great event of course could not take place Without fit prodigies for such a case ; The brazen pig-tail of King George the Third Thrice with a horizontal motion stirr'd, Then rose on end, and stood so all day long, Amid the cheers of an admiring throng. In every lawyer's office Eldon shed From plaster nose three heavy drops of red. Each Statue, too, of Pitt turn'd up the point Of its proboscis — was that out of joint ? While Charles James Fox's grinn'd from ear to ear, And Peel's emitted frequent cries of " Hear 1" TO THE PORTRAIT OF "A GENTLEMAN," IN THE ATHEN-SIUM GALLERY. OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. It may be so — ^perhaps thou hast A warm and loving heart ; I will not blame thee for thy face, Poor devil as thou art That thing, thou fondly deem'st a nose, Unsightly though it be, — In spite of all the cold world's scorn. It may be much to thee. Those eyes, — among thine elder friends Perhaps they pass for blue; — No matter, — ^if a man can see, What more have eyes to do ? SATIRICAL. 341 Thy mouth — that fissure m thy face By something like a chin, — May be a very useful place To put thy victual in. I know thou hast a wife at home, I know thou hast a child, By that subdued, domestic smile Upon thy features mild. That wife sits fearless by thy side, That cherub on thy knee ; They do not shudder at thy looks, They do not shrink from thee. Above thy mantel is a hook, — A portrait once was there ; It was thine only ornament, — Alas ! that hook is bare. She begged thee not to let it go, She begged thee all in vain : She wept, — and breathed a trembling prayer To meet it safe again. It was a bitter sight to see That picture torn away ; It was a solemn thought to think What all her fi-iends would say I And often in her calmer hours, And in her happy dreams, Upon its long-deserted hook The absent portrait seems. Thy vsretched infant turns his head In melancholy wise. And looks to meet the placid stare Of those unbending eyes. 842 SATIRICAL. I never saw thee, lovely one, — Perchance I never may ; It is not often that we cross Such people in our way ; But if we meet in distant years, Or on some foreign shore, Sure I can take my Bible oath I 've seen that face before. MY AUNT. OLIVER WENDELL HOLMEa My aunt I my dear unmarried aunt ! Long years have o'er her flown; Yet still she strains the aching clasp That binds her virgin zone ; I know it hurts her — though she looks As cheerful as she can ; Her waist is ampler than her hfe, For hfe is but a span. My aimtl my poor deluded aunt I Her hair is almost gray ; Why will she train that winter curl In such a spring-like way ? How can she lay her glasses down, And say she reads as well, When, through a double convex lens, She just makes out to spell ? Her father — ^grandpapa ! forgive This erring lip its smiles — Vowed she should make the finest gir) Within a hundred mUes ; He sent her to a styUsh school ; 'T was in her thirteenth June ; And with her, as the rules required, " Two towels and a spoon." SATIRICAL. 343 fhey braced my aunt against a board, To make her straight and tall ; They laced her up, they starved her down, To make her light and small. They pinched her feet, they singed her hair, They screwed it up with pins ; — never mortal suffered more In penance for her sins. So, when my precious aunt was done, My grandsire brought her back ; (By dayhght, lest some rabid youth Might follow on the track ;) "Ah I" said my grandsire, as he shook Some powder in his pan, " What could this lovely creature do Against a desperate man 1" Alas 1 nor chariot, nor barouche, Nor bandit cavalcade. Tore from the trembling father's arms His all-accomplished maid. For her how happy had it been I And heaven had spared to me To see one sad, ungathered rose On my ancestral tree. COMIC MISERIES. JOHN O. SAXX. My dear young friend, whose shining wit Sets all the room a-blaze, Don't think yourself a " happy dog," For all your merry ways ; But learn to wear a sober phiz, Be stupid, if you can. It's such a very serious thing To be a funny man I 344 SATIRICAL. You 're at an evening party, with A group of pleasant folks, — ■ You venture quietly to crack The least of little jokes, — A lady does n't catch the point, And begs you to explain — Alas for one that drops a jest And takes it up again ! You 're talking deep philosophy With very special force, To edify a clergyman With suitable discourse, — You think you 've got him — when he calls A friend across the way. And begs you '11 say that funny thing You said the other day ! You drop a pretty jeu-de-mot Into a neighbor's ears, Who likes to give you credit for The clever thing he hears. And so he hawks your jest about, The old authentic one, Just breaking off the point of it, And leaving out the pun I By sudden change in poUtics, Or sadder change in PoUy, You, lose your love, or loaves, and fall A prey to melancholy. While every body marvels why Your mirth is under ban, — They think your very giief " a joke," You 're such a funny man ! You follow up a styKsh card That bids you come and dine, And bring along your freshest wit (To pay for musty wine), SATIRICAL. 84i You 're looking very dismal, when My lady bounces in, And wonders what you 're thinking of, And why you don't begin ! You 're telling to a knot of friends A fancy-tale of woes That cloud your matrimonial sky, And banish all repose — A solemn lady overhears The story of your strife. And tells the town the pleasant news: You quarrel with your wife 1 My dear young friend, whose shining wit Sets all the room a-blaze. Don't think yourself " a happy dog," For all your merry ways ; But learn to wear a sober phiz. Be stupid, if you can. It 's such a very serious thing To be a funny man I IDEES NAPOLEONIENNES. WILLIAM Ai^OCm. The impossibility of translating this now well-known expreasion (imperfectly rendered in a companion-work, "Ideas of Napoleonism"), wUl excuse the title and burden of the present ballad being left in the original French. — Trans- I^TOS. Come, hsten all who wish to learn How nations should be ruled, From one who from his youth has been In such-hke matters school'd ; From one who knows the art to please, Improve and govern men — Eh bien ! Ecoutez, aux Idces^ NapoUoniennes ! To keep the mind intently fixed On number One alone — 15* 346 SATIKICAL. To look to no one's interest, But push along your own, Without the slightest reference To how, or what, or when — Ell hien I dest la premiere Idee NapoUonienne. To make a friend, and use him well, By which, of course, I mean To use him up — ^until he 's drain'd Completely dry and clean Of all that makes him useful, and To kick him over then Without remorse — c'est une Idee NapoUonienne. To sneak into a good man's house With sham credentials penn'd — To sneak into his heart and trust, And seem his children's friend — To learn his secrets, find out where He keeps his keys — and then To bone liis spoons — 6 est une Idee Napolionienne. To gain your point in view — to wade Through dirt, and sUme, and blood- To stoop to pick up what you want Through any depth of mud. But always in the fire to thrust Some helpless cat's-paw, when Your chestnuts burn — c'est une Idee NapoUonienne. To clutch and keep the lion's share — To kill or drive away The wolves, that you upon the lambs May, unmolested, prey — To keep a gang of jackals fierce To guard and stock your den, While you he down — c^est une Ide9 NapoUonienne. SATIRICAL. 34*/ To bribe the base, to crush the good, And bring them to their knees — To stick at nothing, or to stick At what or whom you please — To stoop, to lie, to brag, to swear, Forswear, and swear again — To rise — Ah I void des Idees NapoUonienn^s. THE LAY OF THE LOVER'S FRIEND, WILLIAM AYTOUN. AiE — " The days -we went a-gipsying." I WOULD all womankind were dead, Or banished o'er the sea ; For they have been a bitter plague These last six weeks to me : It is not that I 'm touched myself, For that I do not fear ; No female face hath shown me grace For many a bygone year. But 'tis the most infernal bore. Of all the bores I know. To have a friend who 's lost his heart A short time ago. Whene'er we steam it to Blackwall, Or down to Greenwich run, To quaflf the pleasant cider cup, And feed on fish and fun ; Or climb the slopes of Richmond TTill^ To catch a breath of air : Then, for my sins, he straight begins To rave about his fair. Oh, 'tis the most tremendous bore. Of all the bores I know. To have a fi^iend who 's lost his heart A short time ago 348 SATIRICAL. In vain you pour into his ear Your own confiding grief; In vain you claim his sympathy, In vain you ask relief; In vain you try to rouse him by Joke, repartee, or quiz ; His sole reply 's a burning sigh, And '' ^Vhat a mind it is !" O Lord ! it is the greatest bore, Of all the bores I know, To have a friend who 's lost his heart A short time ago. I 've heard her thoroughly described A hundred times, I 'm sure ; And all the while I 've tried to smile, And patiently endure; He waxes strong upon his pangs, And potters o'er his grog ; And still I say, in a playful way — " Why you 're a lucky dog !" But oh 1 it is the heaviest bore, Of all the bores I know. To have a fi:iend who 's lost his heart A short time ago. I really wish he 'd do like me When I was young and strong ; I formed a passion every week. But never kept it long. But he has not the sportive mood That always rescued me, And so I would all women could Be banished o'er the sea. For 'tis the most egregious bore, Of all the bores I know, To have a fi-iend who 's lost his heart A short time ago. PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. WINE. JOHN GAT. Nulla placere diu, nee vivere carmina possunt, Qua3 scribuutur aquae potoribus. HoB. Of happiness terrestrial, and the source Whence human pleasures flow, sing, heavenly Muse \ Of sparkling juices, of the enlivening grape. Whose quickening taste adds vigor to the soul, Whose sovereign power revives decaying nature, And thaws the frozen blood of hoary Age, A kindly warmth diffusing ; — youthful fires Gild his dim eyes, and paint with ruddy hue His wrinkled visage, ghastly wan before : Cordial restorative to mortal man. With copious hand by bounteous gods bestow'd I Bacchus divine ! aid my adventurous song, " That with no middle flight intends to soar •' Inspir'd subhme, on Pegasean wing. By thee upborne, I draw Miltonic air. When fumy vapors clog our loaded brows With furrow' d frowns, when stupid downcast eyes, The external symptoms of remorse within, Express our grief, or when in sullen dumps, With head incumbent on expanded palm. Moping we sit, in silent sorrow drown'd ; Whether inveigling Hymen has trepann'd The unwary youth, and tied the gordian knot Of janghng wedlock not to be dissolv'd; Worried all day by loud Xantippe's din, Who fails not to exalt him to the stars. And fix him there amono: the branched crew 352 PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. (Taurus, and Aries, and Capricorn, The greatest monsters of the Zodiac), Or for the loss of anxious worldly pelf, Or Celia's scornful slights, and cold disdain. Which check' d his amorous flame with coy repiJse, The worst events that mortals can befall ; By cares depress'd, in pensive hippish mood, With slowest pace the tedious minutes roll, Thy charming sight, but much more charming gust, New life incites, and warms our chilly blood. Straight with pert looks we raise our drooping fronts, And pour in crystal pure thy purer juice ; — With cheerful countenance and steady hand Raise it hp-high, then fix the spacious rim To the expecting mouth : — with grateful taste The ebbing wine ghdes swiftly o'er the tongue ; The circling blood with quicker motion flies : Such is thy powerful influence, thou straight Dispell'st those clouds that, lowering dark, eclips'd- The whilom glories of the gladsome face ; — While dimpled cheeks, and sparkling roHing eyes, Thy cheering virtues, and thy worth proclaim. So mists and exhalations that arise From " hiUs or steamy lake, dusky or gray," Prevail, till Phoebus sheds Titanian rays. And paints their fleecy skirts with shining gold ; Unable to resist, the foggy damps, That vail'd the surface of the verdant fields, At the god's penetrating beams disperse 1 The earth again in former beauty snules, In gaudiest hvery drest, all gay and clear. When disappointed Strephon meets repulse, ScoS'd at, despis'd, in melancholic mood Joyless he wastes in sighs the lazy hours, Tni reinforc'd by thy most potent aid He storms the breach, and wins the beauteous fort. To pay thee homage, and receive thy blessing. The British seaman quits his native shore, And ventures through the trackless, deep abyss. Plowing the ocean, while the upheav'd oak, " With beaked prow, rides tilting o'er the waves;*' Shock'd by tempestuous jarring winds, she rolls PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. 353 In dangers imminent, till she arrives At those blest climes thou favor'st with thy presenca Whether at Lusitania's sultry coast, Or lofty Teneriffe, Palma, Ferro, Provence, or at the Celtiberian shores, With gazing pleasure and astonishment, At Paradise (seat of our ancient su-e) He thinks himself arrived : the purple grapes, In largest clusters pendent, grace the vines Innumerous : in fields grotesque and wild, They with implicit curls the oak entwine. And load with fruit divine his spreading boiighs : Sight most delicious ! not an irksome thought. Or of left native isle, or absent friends, Or dearest wife, or tender sucking babe, His kindly treacherous memory now presents ; The jovial god has left no room for cares. Celestial Liquor ! thou that didst inspire Maro and Flaccus, and the G-recian bard, With lofty numbers, and heroic strains UnparaUel'd, with eloquence profound, And arguments convictive, didst enforce Fam'd Tully, and Demosthenes renown'd ; Ennius, first fiim'd in Latin song, in vain Drew Heliconian streams, ungrateful whet To jaded Muse, and oft with vain attempt. Heroic acts, in flagging numbers dull. With pains essay'd ; but, abject still and low, His unrecruited Muse could never reach The mighty theme, till, from the purple fount Of bright Lenaean sire, her barren drought He quench'd, and with inspiring nectarous juice Her drooping spirits cheer' d : — aloft she towers, Borne on stiff pennons, and of war's alarms. And trophies won, in loftiest numbers sings. 'Tis thou the hero's breast to martial acts, And resolution bold, and ardor brave, Excit'st : thou check' st inglorious lolhng ease, And sluggish minds with generous fires inflam'st. thou ! that first my quickened soul didst warm, StUl with thy aid assist me, that thy praise, Thy universal sway o'er aU the world, 864 PARODIES AND BUKLESQUES. In everlasting numbers, like the theme, I may record, and sing thy matchless worth. Had the Oxonian bard thy praise rehears' d, TTis Muse had yet retain'd her wonted height ; Such as of late o'er Blenheim's field she soar'd Aerial ; now in Ariconian bogs She hes inglorious, floundering, like her theme, Languid and faint, and on damp wing, immerg'd In acid juice, in vain attempts to rise. With what subhmest joy from noisy town, At rural seat, Lucretius retir'd : Flaccus, untainted by perplexing cares, Where the wliite poplar and the lofty pine Join neighboring boughs, sweet hospitable shade. Creating, from Phoebean rays secure, A cool retreat, with few weU-chosen friends. On flowery mead recumbent, spent the hours In mirth innocuous, and alternate verse ! With roses interwoven, poplar wreaths. Their temples bind, dress of sylvestrian gods ! Choicest nectarean juice crown'd largest bowls, And overlook' d the brim, alluring sight. Of fragrant scent, attractive, taste divine ! Whether from Formian grape depressed, Falern, Or Setin, Massic, Gauran, or Sabinp, Lesbian, or Coecuban, the cheering bowl Mov'd briskly round, and spurr'd their heighten'd wit To sing Mecaena's praise, their patron kind. But we not as our pristine shes repair To umbrageous grot or vale ; but when the sun Faintly from western sides his rays obhque Darts sloping, and to Thetis' wat'ry lap Hastens in prone career, with friends select Swiftly we hie to Devil,* young or old, Jocund and boon ; where at the entrance stands A stripUng, who with scrapes and humil crhige G-reets us in winning speech, and accent bland : With lightest bound, and safe unerring step. He skips before, and nimbly chmbs the stairs. Melampus thus, panting with lolhng tongue, And w<^gging tail, gambols and frisks before • The Devil Tavern, Temple Bar. PA-HODIES AXD BaHLESQUES. 'i^^ His sequent lord, from pensive walk return' d, Whether in shady wood or pasture green, And waits his coming at the well-known gate. Nigh to the stairs' ascent, in regal port, Sits a majestic dame, whose looks denounce Command and sovereignty : with haughty air, And studied mien, in semicircular throne Enclos'd, she deals around her dread commands ; Behind her (dazzhng sight 1) in order rang'd, Pile above pile, crystalline vessels shine : Attendant slaves with eager strides advance. And, after homage paid, bawl out aloud Words unintelligible, noise confus'd : She knows the jargon sounds, and straight describes, In characters mysterious, words obscure : More legible are algebraic signs, Or mystic figures by magicians drawn, When they invoke the infernal spirit's aid. Drive hence the rude and barbarous dissonance Of savage Thracians and Croatian boors ; The loud Centaurian broUs with Lapithae Sound harsh, and grating to Lenaean god ; Chase brutal feuds of Belgian skippers hence (Amid their cups whose innate temper 's shown), In clumsy fist wielding scymetrian knife. Who slash each other's eyes, and blubber'd face, Profaning BacchanaUan solemn rites : Music's harmonious numbers better suit His festivals, from instruments or voice. Or G-asperani's hand the trembhng string Should touch ; or from the dulcet Tuscan dames, Or warbling Toft's far more melodious tongue, Sweet symphonies should flow : the Delian god For airy Bacchus is associate meet. The stair's ascent now gain'd, our guide unbars The door of spacious room, and creaking chairs (To ear offensive) round the table sets. We sit ; when thus his florid speech begins : " Name, sirs ! the wine that most invites your taste; Champaign, or Burgundy, or Florence pure, Or Hock antique, or Lisbon new or old, Bourdeaux, or neat French white, or Alicant." 856 PARODIES AND BUKLESQTJES. For Bourdeaux we with voice unanimous Declare, (such sympatliy's in boon compeers). He quits the room alert, but soon returns ; One hand capacious glistering vessels bears Resplendent, the other, with a grasp secure, A bottle (mighty charge !) upstaid, full fraught With goodly wine. He, with extended hand Eais'd high, pours forth the sanguine frothy juice, O'erspread with bubbles, dissipated soon : We straight to arms repair, experienc'd chiefs : Now glasses clash witli glasses (charming sound I) And glorious Anna's health, the first, the best, Crowns the full glass ; at her inspiring name The sprightly wine results, and seems to smile : With hearty zeal and wish unanimous. Her health we drink, and in her health our own. A pause ensues : and now with gTateful chat We improve the interval, and joyous mirth Engages our rais'd souls ; pat repartee. Or witty joke, our airy senses moves To pleasant laughter ; straight the echoing room With universal peals and shouts resounds. The royal Dane, blest consort of the Queen, Next crowns the ruby'd nectar, all whose bliss In Anna's plac'd : with sympathetic flame. And mutual endearments, all her joys, Like to the kind turtle's pure untainted love, Center in him, who shares the grateful hearts Of loyal subjects, with his sovereign queen ; For by his prudent care united shores Were sav'd from hostile fleets' invasion dire. The hero Marlborough next, whose vast exploits Fame's clarion sounds ; fresh laurels, triumphs Mew We wish, like those he won at Hockstet's field. Next Devonshire illustrious, who from race Of noblest patriots sprang, whose worthy soul Is with each fair and virtuous gift adorn' d. That shone in his most worthy ancestors ; For then distinct in separate breasts were seen Virtues distinct, biit all in him unite. Prudent Grodolphin, of the nation's weal Frugal, but free and generous of his own, PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. 35 7 Next crowns the bowl ; with faithful Sunderland, And Halifax, the Muses darling son, It: whom conspicuous, with full luster, shine The I irest judgment and the brightest wit, Himself Mecsenas and a Flaccus too ; And all the worthies of the British realm, In order rang'd succeed ; such healths as tinge The dulcet wine with a more charming gust. Now each his mistress toasts, by whose bright eye He 's fired ; CosmeUa fair, or Dulcibell', Or Sylvia, comely black, with jetty eyes Piercing, or airy Celia, sprightly maid ! — Insensibly thus flow unnumber'd hours ; Glass succeeds glass, till the Dircean god Shines in our eyes, and with his fulgent rays Enlightens our glad looks with lovely dye ; All bhthe and jolly, that like Arthur's knights Of Eotund Table, fam'd in old records, Now most we seem'd — such is the power of Wine I Thus we the winged hours in harmless mirth And joys unsulUed pass, till humid Night Has half her race perform' d ; now all abroad Is hush'd and silent, nor the rumbling noise Of coach, or cart, or smoky link-boy's call, Is heard — but universal silence reigns ; When we in merry phght, airy and gay, Surpris'd to find the hours so swiftly fly. With hasty knock, or twang of pendant cord, Alarm the drowsy youth from slumbering nod : Startled he flies, and stumbles o'er the stairs Erroneous, and with busy knuckles phes His yet clung eyelids, and with staggering reel Enters confiis'd, and muttering asks our wills ; When we with hberal hand the score discharge, And homeward each his course with steady step Unerring steers, of cares and coin bereft. 858 PAEODIES AND BTJELESQUES. ODE ON SCIENCE. 0, HEAVENLY bom ! in deepest dells If fairer science ever dwells Beneath the mossy cave ; Indulge the verdure of the woods, With azure beauty gild the floods, And flowery carpets lave. For, Melancholy ever reigns Delighted in the sylvan scenes With scientific Ught While Dian, huntress of the vales, Seeks lulling sounds and fanning gales Though wrapt from mortal sight. Yet, goddess, yet the way explore With magic rites and heathen lore Obstructed and depress' d ; TOl Wisdom give the sacred Nine, Untaught, not uninspired, to shine By Reason's power redress'd. When Solon and Lycurgus taught To moralize the human thought Of mad opinion's maze. To erring zeal they gave new laws, Thy charms, Liberty, the cause, That blends congenial rays. Bid bright Astrsea gild the morn, Or bid a hundred suns be born, To hecatomb the year ; Without thy aid, in vain the poles, In vain the zodiac system rolls. In vain the lunar sphere. Come, fairest princess oi the throng, Bring sweet philosophy along. In metaphysic dreams ; DEAN swim. PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. 359 While raptured bards no more behold A vernal age of purer gold, In Heliconian streams. Drive thraldom with maUgnant hand, To curse some other destined land. By Folly led astray : lerne bear on azure wing ; Energic let her soar, and sing Thy universal sway. So when Amphion bade the lyre To more majestic sound aspire. Behold the mad'ning throng, In wonder and obUvion drowned. To sculpture turned by magic sound. And petrifying song. A LOVE SONG, IN THE MODERN TASTE. DEAN SVVIFB. Fluttering spread thy purple pinions G-entle Cupid, o'er my heart ; I a slave in thy dominions ; Nature must give way to art. Mild Arcadians, ever blooming, Nightly nodding o'er your flocks. See my weary days consuming All beneath yon flowery rocks. Thus the Cyprian goddess weeping Mourned Adonis, darling youth ; Him the boar, in silence creeping. Gored with unrelenting tooth. Cynthia, tune harmonious numbers; Fair Discretion, string the lyre : Soothe my ever-waking slumbers : Bright ApoUo, lend thy choir. 860 PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. Gloomy Pluto, king of terrors, Arm'd in adamantine chains, Lead me to the crystal mirrors, Watering soft Elysian plains. Mournful cypress, verdant willow, Gilding my Aureha's brows, Morpheus, hovering o'er my piUow, Hear me pay my dying vows. Melancholy smooth Meander, Swiftly purling in a round, On thy margin lovers wander. With thy flowery chaplets crown'd. Thus when Pliilomela drooping, Softly seeks her silent mate, See the bird of Juno stooping ; Melody resigns to fate. BAUCIS AND PHILEMON. ON THE EVER-LAMENTED LOSS OF THE TWO YEW-TREES IN THB PARISH OF CHILTHORNE, SOMERSET. IMITATED FROM THE EIGHTH BOOK OF OVID. DEAN SWIFT In ancient time, as story teUs, The saints would often leave their cells, And stroll about, but hide their quality. To try good people's hospitahty. It happen'd on a winter night. As authors of the legend write. Two brother hermits, saints by trade. Taking their tour in masquerade. Disguised in tatter' d habits, went To a smaU village down in Kent ; Where, in the strollers' canting strain. They begg'd from door to door in vain, Tried every tone might pity win; But not a soul would let them in. PAiODIES AND BURLESQUES. 361 Our wandering saints, in woeful state, Treated at this ungodly rate, Having through all the village past, To a small cottage came at last Where dwelt a good old honest ye'man, Call'd in the neighborhood Philemon ; Who kindly did these saints invite In his poor hut to pass the night ; And then the hospitable sire Bid Goody Baucis mend the fire ; While he from out the chimney took A flitch of bacon off the hook, And freely from the fattest side Cut out large shoes to be fried ; Then stepp'd aside to fetch them drink, Fill'd a large jug up to the brink. And saw it fairly twice go round ; Yet (what was wonderful) they found 'T was stiU replenish' d to the top, As if they ne'er had touch' d a drop. The good old couple were amazed, And often on each other gazed ; For both were frighten'd to the heart, And just began to cry, " What ar't I" Then softly turn'd aside, to view Whether the lights were burning blue. The gentle pilgrims, soon aware on't. Told them their calhng and their errand ; " Good folks, you need not be afraid. We are but saints," the hermits said ; " No hurt shaU come to you or yours : But for that pack of churlish boors. Not fit to live on Christian ground, They and their houses shall be drown'd; While you shall see your cottage rise, And grow a church before your eyes." They scarce had spoke, when fair and soft The roof began to mount aloft ; Aloft rose every beam and rafter ; The heavy wall chmb'd slowly after. The chimney widen' d, and grew higher, Became a steeple with a spire. 16 862 PARODIES AND BURLESQUBS. The kettle to the top was hoist^ And there stood fasten' d to a joist, But with the upside down, to show Its inclination for below : In vain ; for a superior force Applied at bottom stops its course : Doom'd ever in suspense to dwell, 'Tis now no kettle, but a bell. A wooden jack, which had almost Lost by disuse the art to roast, A sudden alteration feels, Increased by new intestine wheels ; And, what exalts the wonder more, The number made the motion slower. The flier, though it had leaden feet, Turn'd round so quick you scarce could see't; But, slacken'd by some secret power. Now hardly moves an inch an hour. The jack and chimney, near aUied, Had never left each other's side ; The chimney to a steeple grown. The jack would not be left alone ; But, up against the steeple rear'd. Became a clock, and still adhered ; And stUl its love to household cares, By a shrill voice at noon, declares, Warning the cook-maid not to burn That roast meat, which it can not turn. The groaning-chair began to crawl, Like a huge snail, along the wall ; There stuck aloft in public view. And with small change, a pulpit grew. The porringers, that in a row Hung high, and made a glittering show, To a less noble substance changed, Were now but leathern buckets ranged. The ballads, pasted on the wall, Of Joan of France, and English Moll Fair Rosamond, and Robin Hood, The little Children in the Wood, Now seem'd to look abundance better, Improved in picture, size^ and letter : PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. 8o3 And, high in order placed, describe The heraldry of every tribe. A bedstead of the antique mode, Compact of timber many a load, Such as our ancestors did use, Was metamorphosed into pews ; Which still their ancient nature keep By lodging folks disposed to sleep. The cottage, by such feats as these, Grown to a church by just degrees, The hermits then desired their host To ask for what he fancied most. Philemon, having paused a while, Eeturn'd them thanks in homely style ; Then said, " My house is grown so fine, Methinks, I still would call it mine. 1 'm old, and fain would hve at ease ; Make me the parson if you please." He spoke, and presently he feels His grazier's coat fall down his heels : He sees, yet hardly can believe. About each arm a pudding sleeve ; His waistcoat to a cassock grew, And both assumed a sable hue; But, being old, continued just As threadbare, and as full of dust. His talk was now of tithes and dues : He smoked his pipe, and read the news ; Knew how to preach old sermons next, Yamp'd in the preface and the text ; At christenings well could act his part, And had the service all by heart ; Wish'd women might have children fast. And thought whose sow had farrow'd last ; Against dissenters would repine. And stood up firm for "right divine ;" Found his head fill'd with many a system ; But classic authors — he ne'er miss'd 'em. Thus having furbish' d up a parson, Dame Baucis next they play'd their farce on. Instead of homespun coifs, were seen Good pinners edged with colberteen ; 364 PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. Her petticoat transform'd apace, Became black satin, flounced with lace. " Plain Goody" would no longer down, 'T was " Madam," in her grogram gown. Philemon was in great surprise, And hardly could believe his eyes. Amazed to see her look so prim. And she admired as much at him. Thus happy in their change of life. Were several years this man and wife : When on a day, which proved their last, Discoursing o'er old stories past. They went by chance, amid their talk, To the church-yard to take a walk ; When Baucis hastily cried out, " My dear, I see your forehead sprout!" — "Sprout," quoth the man; "what's this you tell us? I hope you don't beheve me jealous ! But yet, methinks I feel it true, And really yours is budding too — Nay — now I can not stir my foot ; It feels as if 'twere taking root." Description would but tire my Muse, In short, they both were turn'd to yews. Old Groodman Dobson of the green Remembers he the trees has seen ; He '11 talk of them from noon till night, And goes with folks to show the sight; On Sundays, after evening prayer. He gathers all the parish there ; Points out the place of either yew, Here Baucis, there Philemon, grew : Till once a parson of our town. To mend his barn, cut Baucis down ; At which, 'tis hard to be beheved How much the other tree was grieved, G-rew scrubbed, died a-top, was stunted, So the next parson stubb'd and burnt it PAKODIES AND BUELESQUES. 365 A DESCRIPTION OF A CITY SHOWER, IN IMITATION OF VIRGIL's GEORGICS. EEAN SWIFT. Careful observers may foretell the hour, (By sure prognostics), when to dread a shower. While rain depends, the pensive G&t gives o'er Her frolics, and pursues her tail no more. Returning home at night, you '11 find the sink Strike your offended sense with double stink. If you be wise, then, go not far to dine : You 'U spend in coach-hire more than save in wine A coming shower your shooting corns presage, Old aches will throb, your hollow tooth will rage ; Sauntering in coffee-house is Dulman seen ; He damns the climate, and complains of spleen. Meanwhile the South, rising with dabbled wings, A sable cloud athwart the welkin flings. That swill'd more Uquor than it could contain, And, like a drunkard, gives it up again. Brisk Susan whips her linen from the rope, While the first drizzhng shower is borne aslope ; Such is that sprinkling which some careless quean Flirts on you fi-om her mop, but not so clean : You fly, invoke the gods ; then, turning, stop To ran ; she singing, still whirls on her mop. Not yet the dust had shunn'd the unequal strife. But, aided by the wind, fought still for Hfe, And wafted w^th its foe by violent g-ust, 'T was doubtful which was rain, and which was d ast. Ah ! where must needy poet seek for aid, When dust and rain at once his coat invade ? Sole coat ! where dust, cemented by the rain. Erects the nap, and leaves a cloudy stain ! Now in contiguous drops the flood comes down, Threatening with deluge this devoted town. To shops in crowds the daggled females fly, Pretend to cheapen goods, but nothing buy. The Templar spruce, wliile every spout 's abroach. Stays till 'tis fair, yet seems to call a coach. 366 PAEODIES AND BURLESQUES. The tuck'cl up sempstress walks with hasty strides, While streams run down her oil'd umbrella's sides. Here various kinds, by various fortunes led, Commence acquaintance underneath a shed. Triumphant Tories, and desponding Whigs, Forget their feuds, and join to save their wigs. Box'd in a chair the beau impatient sits, While spouts run clattering o'er the roof by fits, And ever and anon with f^ghtful din The leather sounds ; he trembles from witliin. So when Troy chairmen bore the wooden steed, Pregnant with Glreeks impatient to be freed, (Those bully G-reeks, who, as the moderns do. Instead of paying chairmen, ran them through), Laocoon struck the outside with his spear, And each imprison'd hero quaked for fear. Now from all parts the swelling kennels flow, And bear their trophies with them as they go : Filth of all hues and odor, seem to tell What street they sail'd from by their sight and smelL They, as each torrent drives with rapid force. From Smithfield to St. Pulclu-e's shape their course, And in huge confluence join'd at Snowhill ridge. Fall from the conduit prone to Holborne bridge. Sweeping from butchers' stalls, dung, guts, and blood ; Drown'd puppies stinking sprats, all drench'd in mud. Dead cats, and turnip-tops, come tumbling down the flood. PARODIES AKD BURLESQUES. 367 THE PROGRESS OF CURIOSITY; OR A ROYAL VISIT TO WHITBREAD's BREWERY. PETER PINDAR. Sic transit gloria mundi ! — Old Sun Diils. From House of Buckingham, in grand parade, To Whi thread's Brewhouse, moved the cavalcade. The Aegttment. — Peter's loyalty. — He suspecteth Mr. Warton* of joking. — Complimenteth the poet Laureate. — Peter diflfereth in opinion from Mr. Warton.— Taketh.up the cudgels for King Edward, King Harry V., and Queen Bess. — Feats on Blackheath and Wimbledon performed by our most gracious sovereign. — King Charles the Second half damned by Peter, yet praised for keeping company with gentlemen. — Peter praiseth himself. — Peter reproved by Mr. Warton. — Desireth Mr. Warton' s prayers. — A fine simile. — Peter still suspecteth the Laureate of ironical dealings — Peter expostulateth with Mr. Warton. — Mr. Warton repli- eth. — Peter administereth bold advice. — Wittily calleth death and physicians poachers. — Praiseth the king for parental tenderness. — Peter maketh a natural simile. — Peter furthermore telleth Thomas Warton what to say. — Peter giveth a beautiful example of ode-writing. The Coxtents of the Ode. — His Majesty'st love for the arts and sciences, even in quadrupeds. — His resolution to know the history of brewing beer. — Billy Ramus seat ambassador to Chiswell street. — Interview between Messrs. Ramus and WhiLbread. — Mr. Whitbread's bow, and compliments to Majesty. — Mr. Ra- mus' s return from his embassy. — Mr. Whitbread's terrors described to Majesty by Mr. Ramus. — The King's pleasure thereat. — Description of people of worship. — Account of the Whitbread preparation. — The royal cavalcade to Ohiswell-street. — The arrival at the brewhouse. — Great joy of Mr. Whitbread. — His Majesty's nod, the Queen's dip, and a number of questions. — A West India simile. — The marvelings of the draymen described. — His Majesty peepeth into a pump. — Beautifully compared to a magpie peeping into a marrow-bone. — The minute cu riosity of the King. — Mr. Whitbread endeavoreth to surprise Majesty. — His Maj- esty puzzleth Mr. Whitbread. — Mr. Whitbread's horse expresseth wonder. — Also Mr. Whitbread's dog. — His Majesty maketh laudable iuquiry about Porter. — Again puzzleth Mr. Whitbread. — King noteth notable things. — Profound ques- tions proposed by Majesty. — As profoundly answered by Mr. Whitbread. — Maj- esty in a mistake. — Corrected by the brewer. — A nose simile. — Majesty's admira- tion of the beU. — Good manners of the bell. — Fine appearance of Mr. Whitbread's pigs. — Majesty proposeth questions, but benevolently waiteth not for answers. — Peter telleth the duty of Kings. — Discovereth one of his shrewd maxims. — Sub- lime sympathy of a water-spout and a king. — The great use of asking questions. — The habitation of truth. — The collation. — The wonders performed by the Royal Visitors. — Majesty proposeth to take leave. — Ofifereth knighthood to Whit- bread. — Mr. Whitbread's objections. — The kiug runneth a rig on his host. — Mr Whitbread thauketh Majesty. — Miss Whitbread curtsieth. — The queen dippeth.— The Cavalcade departeth. Peter triumpheth. — Admonisheth the Laureate. — Peter croweth over the Lau reate. — Discovereth deep knowledge of kings, and surgeons, and men who hav» lost their legs. — Peter reasoneth. — ^Vaunteth.— Even insulteththe Laureate. — Pe * The Poet Laureate. t George in. 308 PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. ier proclaimeth his peaceable disposition. — Praiseth Majesty, and condudeth with a prayer for curious kings. Tom, soon as e'er thou strik'st thy golden lyre, Thy brother Peter's muse is aU on fire, To sing of kings and queens, and such rare folk * Yet, 'midst thy heap of comphments so fine, Say, may we venture to beheve a hne ? You Oxford wits most dearly love a joke. Son of the Nine, thou writest well on naught ; Thy thundering stanza, and its pompous thought^ I think, must put a dog into a laugh : Edward and Harry were much braver men Than this new-christened hero of thy pen. Yes, laurelled Odeman, braver far by half; Though on Blackheath and Wimbledon's wide plain, George keeps his hat off in a shower of rain ; Sees swords and bayonets without a dread, Nor at a voUey winks, nor ducks liis head : Although at grand reviews he seems so blest, And leaves at six o'clock his downy nest. Dead to the charms of blanlcet, wife, and bolster ; Unlike his officers, who, fond of cramming, And at reviews afraid of thirst and famine, With bread and cheese and brandy fill their holsters. Sure, Tom, we should do justice to Queen Bess : His present majesty, whom Heaven long bless With wisdom, wit, and art of choicest quahty. Will never get, I fear, so fine a niche As that old queen, though often called old b — eh, In fame's colossal house of immortality. As for John Dry den's Charles — that king Indeed was never any mighty thuig ; He merited few honors from the pen : And yet he was a devilish hearty fellow. Enjoyed his beef, and bottle, and got mellow, And mind — ^kept company with gentlemen : PARODIES AXD BURLESQUES. 369 For, like some kings, in hobby grooms, Knights of the manger, curry-combs, and brooms, Lost to all glory, Charles did not dehght — Nor joked by day with pages, servant-maids, Large, red-polled, blowzy, hard two-handed jades: Indeed I know not what Charles did by night. Thomas, I am of candor a great lover ; In short, I 'm candor's self all over ; Sweet as a candied cake from top to toe ; Make it a rule that Virtue shall be praised, And humble Merit from the ground be raised : What thinkest thou of Peter now ? Thou cryest '' Oh ! how false ! behold thy king, Of whom thou scarcely say'st a handsome thing ; That king has virtues that should make thee stare." Is it so ? — Then the sin 's in me — 'Tis my vile optics that can't see ; Then pray for them when next thou sayest a prayen But, p'rhaps aloft on his imperial throne, So distant, ye gods ! from every one, The royal virtues are Hke many a star. From this our pigmy system rather far : Whose hght, though flying ever since creation, Has not yet pitched upon our nation.'^ Then may the royal ray be soon explored — And Thomas, if thou 'It swear thou art not humming, I '11 take my spying-glass and bring thee word The instant I behold it coming. But, Thomas Warton, without joking, Art. thou, or art thou not, thy sovereign smoking ? How canst thou seriously declare. That George the Third With Cressy's Edward can compare, Or Harry ? — 'Tis too bad, upon my word : George is a clever king, I needs must own, And cuts a jolly figure on the throne. • Such was the sublime opinion of the Dutch astronomer, Huygena 16* 870 PARODIES AND BUKLESQUES. Now thou exclaim'st, " Grod rot it 1 Peter, pray What to the devil shall I sing or say ?" I '11 teU thee what to say, tuneful Tom : Sing how a monarch, when his son was dying, His gi-acious eyes and ears was edifying. By abbey company and kettle drum : Leaving that son to death and the physician, Between two fires — a forlorn-hope condition ; Two poachers, who make man their game. And, special marksmen ! seldom miss their aim. Say, though the monarch did not see his son, He kept aloof through fatherly affection ; Determined nothing should be done. To bring on useless tears, and dismal recoUection, For what can tears avail, and piteous sighs ? Death heeds not howls nor dripping eyes ; And what are sighs and tears but wind and water, That show the leakiness of feeble nature ? Tom, with my simile thou wilt not quarrel ; Like air and any sort of drink. Whizzing and oozing through each chink, That proves the weakness of the barrel. Say — for the prince, when wet was every eye. And thousands poured to heaven the pitying sigh Devout ; Say how a King, unable to dissemble. Ordered Dame Siddons to his house, and Kemble, To spout : Gave them ice creams and wines, so dear 1 Denied till then a thimble full of beer ; For wliich they 've thanked the author of this meter. Videlicet^ the moral mender, Peter Who, in his Ode on Ode, did dare exclaim. And call such royal avarice, a shame. Say — but I '11 teach thee how to make an ode ; Thus shall thy labors visit fame's abode, PARODIES AND BUKLESQUES, 371 In company with xnj immortal lay ; And look, Tom — ^thus I fire away — BIRTH-D aT ode. This day^ this very day, gave birth, Not to the brightest monarch upon earth, Because there are some brighter and as big ; Who love the arts that man exalt to heaven, George loves them also, when they 're given To four-legged G-entry, christened dog and pig.* Whose deeds in this our wonder-hunting nation Prove what a charming thing is education. Full of the art of brewing beer. The monarch heard of Mr. Whitbread's fame : Quoth he unto the queen " My dear, my dear, Whitbread hath got a marvelous great name ; Charly, we must, must, must see Whitbread brew — Rich as us, Charly, richer than a Jew : Shame, shame, we have not yet his brewhouse seen 1" Thus sweetly said the king unto the queen ? Red-hot with novelty's dehghtful rage. To Mr. Whitbread forth he sent a page. To say that majesty proposed to view. With thirst of wondrous knowledge deep inflamed, EQs vats, and tubs, and hops, and hogsheads famed, And learn the noble secret how to brew. Of such undreamt-of honor proud, Most reverently the brewer bowed; So humbly (so the humble story goes,) He touched even terra firma with his nose; Then said unto the page, hight Billy Ramus, ** Happy are we that our great king should name us. As worthy unto majesty to show, How we poor Chiswell people brew." • ThB dancing dogs and wise pig have formed a considerable part of the royal uausement. 372 PAEODIES AND BTJELESQUES. Away sprung Billy Eamus quick as thought, To majesty tho welcome tidings brought, How Whitbread, staring, stood Uke any stake, And trembled — then the civil things he said — On which the king did smile and nod his head : For monarchs Hke to see their subjects quake : Such horrors unto kings most pleasant are. Proclaiming reverence and humility : High thoughts, too, all those shaking fits declare Of kingly gi-andeur and great capabihty 1 People of worship, wealth, and birth, Look on the humbler sons of earth, Indeed in a most humble light, God knows ! High stations are like Dover's towering cliffs, Where ships below appear like httle skiffs, While people walking on the strand like crows. ' Muse, sing the stir that Mr. AAT.iitbread made ; Poor gentleman ! most terribly afraid He should not charm enough his guests divine : He gave his maids new aprons, gowns and smocks j And lo ! two hundred pounds were spent in frocks, To make the apprentices and draymen fine : Busy as horses in a field of clover, Dogs, cats, and chairs, and stools, were tumbled over, Amid the Wliitbread rout of preparation. To treat the lofty ruler of the nation. Now moved king, queen, and princesses so grand, To visit the first brewer in the land ; Who sometimes swills his beer and grinds his meat In a snug corner christened Chiswell-street ; But Dftener charmed with fashionable air, Amid the gaudy great of Portman-square. Lord Aylesbury, and Denbigh's Lord also, His grace the Duke of Montague likewise. With Lady Harcourt joined the raree-show. And fixed all Smithfield's marveling eyes : PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. 373 For lo ! a greater show ne'er graced those quarters, Since Mary roasted, just like crabs, the martyrs. Arrived, the king broad grinned, and gave a nod To smiling Wliitbread, who, had God Come with his angels to behold his beer, With more respect he never could have met-- Indeed the man was in a sweat, So much the brewer did the king revere. Her majesty contrived to make a dip : Light as a feather then the king did skip, And asked a thousand questions, with a laugh, Before poor Whitbread comprehended half. Eeader, my Ode should have a simile — Well, in Jamaica, on a tamarind tree, Five hundred parrots, gabbling just Hke Jews, I 've seen — such noise the feathered imps did make, As made my very pericranium ache — Asking and telhng parrot news : Thus was the brewhouse filled with gabbling noise, Whilst draymen and the brewer's boys, Devoured the questions that the king did ask : In different parties were they staring seen, Wondering to think they saw a king and queen ! Behind a tub were some, and some behind a cask. Some draymen forced themselves (a pretty luncheon) Into the mouth of many a gaping puncheon ; And through the bung-hole winked with curious eye, To view, and be assured what sort of things Were princesses, and queens, and kings, For whose most lofty station thousands sigh I And lo I of all the gaping puncheon clan, Few were the mouths that had not got a man 1 Now majesty into a pump so deep Did with an opera-glass so curious peep : Examining with care each wondrous matter That brought up water 1 374 PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. Thus have I seen a magpie in the street, A chattering bird we often meet, A bird for curiosity well known ; With head awry, And cunning eye, Peep knowingly into a marrow-bone. And now his curious majesty did stoop To count the nails on every hoop ; And, lo ! no single tiling came in his way, That, full of deep research, he did not say, "What's this! hae, has? what's that? what's this? what's that?" So quick the words, too, when he deigned to speak, As if each syllable would break liis neck. Thus, to the world of great whilst others crawl, Our sovereign peeps into the world of small ; Thus microscopic genuises explore Things that too oft provoke the public scorn, Yet swell of useful knowledges the store. By finding systems in a pepper-corn. Now boasting Whitbread serious did declare. To make the majesty of England stare. That he had butts enough, he knew. Placed side by side, to reach along to Kew : On which the king with wonder swiftly cried, " What, if they reach to Kew then, side by side. What would they do, what, what, placed end to end T* To whom with knitted, calculating brow, The man of beer most solemnly did vow. Almost to Windsor that they would extend ; On which the king, with wondering mien, Repeated it unto the wondering queen : On which, quick turning round his haltered head, The brewer's horse, with face astonished neighed ; The brewer's dog too poured a note of thunder, Rattled his chain, and wagged his tail for wonder. Now did the king for other beers inquire. For Calvert's. Jordan's, Thi^ale's entire • PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. 375 And, after talking of these different beers, Asked Whitbread if his porter equalled theirs ? This TVaS a puzzling, diagreeing question ; Grating likv3 aisenic on his host's digestion : A kind of queotion to the man of cask, That not even Solomon himself would ask. Now majesty, alive lo knowledge, took A very pretty memorandum-book. With gilded leaves of b.sbes' skin so white, And in it legibly began to write — Memo.''u7idum. A charming place beneath the grates For roasting chestnuts or poia^es. Mem. 'Tis hops that give a bitterness lu beer — Hops grow in Kent, says Whitbividti, and elsewhere, Qucere. Is there no cheaper stuff? where doth ii dwell? Would not horse-aloes bitter it as \»tll? Mem. To try it soon on our small beer — 'T will save us several pound a year. Mem. To remember to forget to ask Old Whitbread to my house one day Mem. Not to forget to take of beer the cask, The brewer offered me, away. Now having penciled his remarks so sh'ww 1 Sharp as the point indeed of a new piii, His majesty his watch most sagely viewed, And then put up his asses' skin. Bid PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. To Whitbread now deigned majesty to say, " "Whitbread, are all your horses fond of hay I" " Yes, please your majesty," in humble notes, The brewer answered — " also, sir, of oats : Another thing my horses too maintains. And that, an't please your majesty, are grains." "Grains, grains," said majesty, ''to fill their crops? Grains, grains ? — that comes from hops — yes, hops, hops? hops ?" Here was the king, like hounds sometimes, at fault — " Sire," cried the humble brewer, " give me leave Your sacred majesty to undeceive ; Grains, sire, are never made from hops, but malt." " True," said the cautious monarch, with a smile : " From malt, malt, malt — I meant malt all the while." " Yes," ^vith the sweetest bow, rejoined the brewer, " An't please your majesty, you did, I 'm sure." " Yes," answered majesty, with quick reply, III" X, -L, -L. Now this was wise in Whitbread — ^here we find A very pretty knowledge of mankind ; As monarchs never must be in the wrong, 'T was really a bright thought in Whitbread's tongue, To tell a Httle fib, or some such thing. To save the sinking credit of a king. Some brewers, in a rage of information, Proud to instruct the ruler of a nation. Had on the folly dwelt, to seem damned clever 1 Now, what had been the consequence ? Too plain I The man had cut his consequence in twain ; The king had hated the wise fool forever ! Reader, whene'er thou dost espy a nose That bright with many a ruby glows. That nose thou mayest pronounce, nay safely swear^ Is nursed on something better than small-beer. PARODIES AND BUELE8QUES. 877 Thus when thou findest kmgs in brewing wise, Or natural history holding lofty station, Thou mayest conclude, with marveling eyes. Such kings have had a goodly education. Now did the king admire the bell so fine, That daily asks the draymen all to dine: On which the bell rung out (how very proper I) To show it was a bell, and had a clapper. And now before their sovereign's curious eye. Parents and cliildren, fine, fat, hopeful sprigs, AH snuflQing, squinting, grunting in their style. Appeared the brewer's tribe of handsome pigs : On which the observant man, who fills a throne, Declared the pigs were vastly like his own : On which the brewer, swallowed up in joys. Tears and astonishment in both his eyes, His soul brim full of sentiments so loyal, Exclaimed, '' heavens ! and can my swine Be deemed by majesty so fine ! Heavens ! can my pigs compare, sire, with pigs royal ! To which the king assented with a nod ; On which the brewer bowed, and said, "Good Godl' Then winked significant on Miss ; Significant of wonder and of bliss ; Who, bridling in her chin divine, Crossed her fair hands, a dear old maid, And then her lowest courtesy made For such high honor done her father's swine. Now did his majesty so gracious say To Mr. Whitbread, in his flying way, " Whitbread, d'ye nick the excisemen now and then? Hse, Whitbread, when d'ye think to leave oflf trade ? Hae ? w^hat ? Miss Whitbread's still a maid, a maid ? What, what's the matter with the men ? " D'ye hunt 1 — ^hae, hunt ? No, no, you are too old — You '11 be lord mayor — ^lord mayor one day — Yes, yes, I 've heard so — yes, yes, so I 'm told : Don't, don't the fine for sheriff pay ? 3V8 PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. I '11 prick you every year, man, I declare : Yes, Whitbread — yes, yes — ^you shall be lord mayor. " Whitbread, d'ye keep a coach, or job one, pray ? Job, job, that's cheapest ; yes, that's best, that's beat You put your hveries on the draymen — hae ? Has, Whitbread ? you have feather' d well your nest. What, what's the price now, hae, of all your stock ? But, Whitbread, what's o'clock, pray, what's o'clock?" Now Wliitbread inward said, " May I be cursed If I know what to answer first;" Then searched his brains with ruminating eye : But e'er the man of malt an answer found, Quick on his heel, lo, majesty turned round, Skipped off, and baulked the pleasure of reply. Bangs in inquisitiveness should be strong — From curiosity doth wisdom flow : For 'tis a maxim I 've adopted long, The more a man inquires, the more he '11 know. Reader, didst ever see a water-spout ? 'Tis possible that thou wilt answer, " No." Well then ! he makes a most infernal rout ; Sucks, like an elephant, the waves below, With huge proboscis reaching from the sky, As if he meant to drink the ocean dry : At length so fuU he can't hold one drop more — He bm-sts — down rush the waters with a roar On some poor boat, or sloop, or brig, or ship, And almost sinks the wand'rer of the deep : Thus have I seen a monarch at reviews. Suck from the tribe of officers the news. Then bear in triumph off each wondrous matter, And souse it on the queen with such a clatter I I always would advise folks to ask questions : For, truly, questions are the keys of knowledge : Soldiers, who forage for the mind's digestions, Cut figures at the Old Bailey, and at college ; Make chancellors, chief justices, and judges, Even of the lowest green-bag drudges. PARODIES AND BUELESQUES. 379 The sages say, Dame Truth delights to dwell, Strange mansion I in the bottom of a well, Questions are then the windlass and the rope That pull the grave old gentlewoman up : Damn jokes then, and unmannerly suggestions, Reflecting upon kings for asking questions. Now having well employed his royal lungs On nails, hoops, staves, pumps, barrels, and their bungs. The king and Co. sat down to a collation Of flesh and fish, and fowl of every nation. Dire was the clang of plates, of knife and fork. That merciless fell Kke tomahawks to work. And fearless scalped the fowl, the fish, and cattle, While Whitbread, in the rear, beheld the battle. The conquering monarch, stopping to take breath Amidst the regiments of death. Now turned to Whitbread with complacence round, And, merry, thus addressed the man of beer " Whitbread, is 't true ? I hear, I hear, You 're of an ancient family — renowned — What ? what ? I .'m told that you 're a limb Of Pym, the famous fellow Pym : What Whitbread, is it true what people say ? Son of a round-head are you ? has ? h^ ? has ? T 'm told that you send Bibles to your votes — A snuffling round-headed society — Prayer-books instead of cash to buy them coats— Bunyans, and Practices of Piety : Your Bedford votes would wish to change their fare — Rather see cash — ^yes, yes — than books of prayer. Thirtieth of January don't you feed f Yes, yes, you eat calf's head, you eat calf s head." Now having wonders done on flesh, fowl, fish. Whole hosts o'er turned — and seized on all supplies ; The royal visitors expressed a wish To tm'n to House of Buckingham their eyes. But first the monarch, so pohte. Asked Mr. Whitbread if he 'd be a Might 380 PARODIES AND BURLESQUES Unwilliag in the list to be enrolled, Whitbread contemplated the knights of Peg, Then to his generous sovereign made a leg, And said, " He was afraid he was too old. He tharuied however his most graoious king, For offering to make him such a But, ah ! a different reason 't was I fear ! It was not age that bade the man of beer The proffered honor of the monarch shun : The tale of Margaret's knife, and royal fright. Had almost made him damn the nam.e of knight, A tale that farrowed such a world of fun. He mocked the prayer too by the king appointed. Even by himself the Lord's Anointed : — A foe to fast too, is he, let me tell ye ; And though a Presbyterian, can not think Heaven (quarreUing with meat and drink) Joys in the grumble of a hungry belly ! Now from the table with C^esarean air Up rose the monarch with his laureled brow, When Mr. Whitbread. waiting on his chair, Expressed much thanks, much joy, and made a bow. Miss Whitbread now so quick her curtsies drops, Thick as her honored father's Kentish hops ; Which hop-hke curtsies were returned by dips That never hurt the royal knees and hips ; For hips and knees of queens are sacred things, That only bend on gala days Before the best of kings, When odes of triumph sound his praise. — Now through a thundering peal of kind huzzas, Proceeding some from hired* and unhired jaws, * When his majesty goes to a play-house, or brew-house, or parliament, the Lord Chamberlain provides some pounds' worth of mob to huzza their beloved monarch. At the play-house about forty wide-mouthed fellows are hired on the night of their miijosties' appearance, at two shillings and sixpence per head, with the liberty of seeing the play gratis. These Stentors are placed In different parts of the theater, who, immediately on the royal entry into the stage-box, set up their howl of loyalty; to whom their majesties, with sweetest smiles, acknowledge PAKODIES AND BURLESQUES. 381 Tilt raree-show thought proper to retire ; Whilst Wliitbread and his daughter fair Surveyed all Chiswell-street with lofty air ; For, lo I they felt themselves some six feet higher Such, Thomas, is the way to write ! Thus shouldst thou birth-day songs indite; Then stick to earth, and leave the lofty sky : No more of ti turn turn, and ti tum ti. Thus should an honest laureate write of kings — Not praise them for imaginary things ; I own I can not make my stubborn rhyme Call every king a character sublime; For conscience will not suffer me to wander So very widely from the paths of candor. I know full well some kings are to be seen. To whom my verse so bold would give the spleen, Should that bold verse declare they wanted hraim I won't say that they never brains possessed- They may have been with such a present blessed, And therefore fancy that some still remains ; For every well-experienced surgeon knows. That men who with their legs have parted, Swear that they 've felt a pain in all their toes. And oflen at the twinges started ; They stared upon their oaken stumps in vain ! Fancying the loes were all come back again. If men, then, who their absent toes have mourned. Can fancy those same toes at times returned ; So kings, in matters of intelHgences, May fancy they have stumbled on their senses. Yes, Tom — mine is the way of writing ode — Why liftest thou thy pious eyes to God I the obligation by a genteel bow, and an elegant curtesy. This congratulatory noise of the Steniors is looked on by many, particularly country ladies and gen- tlemen, as an infallible thermometer, that ascertains the warmth of the national regard —P. P. 382 PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. Strange disappointment in thy looks I read ; And now I hear thee in proud triumph cry, " Is this an action, Peter, this a deed To raise a monarch to the sky ? Tubs, porter, pumps, vats, all the Whitbread throng, Rare things to figure in the Muse's song !" Thomas, I here protest, I want no quarrels On kmgs and brewers, porter, pumps, and barrels — Far from the dove-like Peter be such strife, But this I tell thee, Thomas, for a fact — Thy Cassar never did an act More wise, more glorious in his life. Now God preserve all wonder-hunting kings, "Whether at Windsor, Buckingham, or Kew-house And may they never do more foolish tilings Than visiting Sam Whitbread and his brewhouse. THE AUTHOR AND THE STATESMAN [addressed by fielding to sir ROBERT WALPOLE.] While at the helm of state you ride, Our nation's envy, and its pride ; While foreign courts with wonder gaze, And curse those councils wliich they praise ; Would you not wonder, sir, to view Your bard a greater man than you ? Which that he is you can not doubt, When you have read the sequel out. You know, great sir, that ancient fellowa, Philosophers, and such folks, tell us, No great analogy between G-reatness and happiness is seen. If then, as it might follow straight. Wretched to be, is to be great; Forbid it>, gods, that you should try What 'tis to be so OTeat as I ! PAEODiEG a:n^d burlesques. 38*^ The family that dines the latest, Is in our street esteem' d the greatest: But latest hours must surely fall 'Fore him who never dines at all. Your taste in architect, /ou know, Hath been admired by friend and foe : But can your earthly domes compare With all my castles — in the air ? We 're often taught it doth behoove us To think those greater who 're above us : Another instance of my glory, Who Hve above you, twice two story ; And from my garret can look down On the whole street of Arlington, Greatness by poets still is painted With many followers acquainted : This too doth in my favor speak ; Your levee is but twice a week ; From mine I can exclude but one day, My door is quiet on a Sunday. Nor in the manner of attendance. Doth your great bard claim less ascendance. Familiar you to admiration May be approached by all the nation ; While I, like the Mogul in Indo, Am never seen but at my window. If with my greatness you 're offended, The fault is easily amended ; For I '11 come down, with wondrous ease, Into whatever pZace you please. I 'm not ambitious ; little matters Will serve us great, but humble creaturea Suppose a secretary o' this isle, Just to be doing with a while ; Admiral, gen'ral, judge, or bishop : Or I can foreign treaties dish up. If the good genius of the nation Should call me to negotiation, 384 PARODIES AND BURLESQCTES. Tuscan and French are in my head, If you should ask, what pleases best ? To get the most, and do the least. What fittest for ? — You know, I' m sure ; I 'm fittest for — a sine-cure. THE FRIEND OF HUMANITY AND THE KNIFE GRINDER.* ANTI-JACOBIN. FRIEND OF HUMANITY.! " Needy Knife-grinder ! whither are you going ? Rough is the road, your wheel is out of order — Bleak blows the blast ; your hat has got a hole in 't. So have your breeches ! • Some stanzas of the original poem, by Southey, are here subjoined: THE WIDOW. Cold was the night wind ; drifting fast the snows fell ; Wide were the downs, and shelterless and naked ; When a poor wand'rer struggled on her journey, Weary and way-sore. Drear were the downs, more dreary her reflections ; Cold was the night wind, colder was her bosom : She had no home, the world was all before her . She had no shelter. Fast o'er the heath a chariot rattled by her : " Pity me 1" feebly cried the poor night wanderer, "Pity me, strangers! lest with cold and hunger Here I should perish." t The " Friend of Humanity" was intended for Me. Tie3net, M. P. for South- vrark, who in early times was among the more forward of the Reformers. " He was," says Lord Brougham, "an assiduous member of the Society of Friends of the People, and drew up the much and justly celebrated Petition in which that useful body laid before the House of Commons all the more striking particulars of its defective title to the office of representing the people, which that House then, as now, but with far less reason, assumed. PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. 385 " Weary Knife-grinder ! little think the proud ones, Who in their coaches roU along the turnpike- road, what hard work 'tis crying all day ' Knives and " ' Scissors to grind 1' Tell me, Knife-grinder, how came you to grind knives ? Did some rich man tyrannically use you ? Was it the squire ? or parson of the parish ? Or the attorney? " Was it the squire, for killing of his game ? or Covetous parson, for his tithes distraining ? Or roguish lawyer, made you lose your httle All in a lawsuit ? •' (Have you not read the Eights of Man, by Tom Paine ?i Drops of compassion tremble on my eyehds, Ready to fall, as soon as you have told your Pitiful story." KNIFE-GRINDER. " Story ! God bless you ! I have none to tell, sir, Only last night a-drinking at the Chequers, This poor old hat and breeches, as you see, were Torn in a scuffle. ' Constables came up, for to take me into Custody ; they took me before the justice ; Justice Oldmixon put me in the parish- Stocks for a vagrant. *' I should be glad to drink your Honor's health in A pot of beer, if you will give me sixpence ; But for my part, I never love to meddle With politics, sir ' FRIEND OF HUMANITY. " 1 give thee sixpence ! I will see thee damned lu-st— Wretch 1 whom no sense of wrongs can rouse to vengeance- Sordid, unfeehng, reprobate, degraded, Spiritless outcast 1" [Kicks tlie Knife-grinder, overturns his wheel, and exit in a transport of Repute lican enthusiasm and universal philauthropy.J 386 PAEODIES AND BURLESQUES. INSCRIPTION FOR THJi DOOR OF THE CELL IN NEWGATE, WHERE MRS. BROWN- RIGG, THE 'PRENTICE-CIDE WAS CONFINED PREVIOUS TO HER EXECUTION.* FROM THE ANTI-JACOBIN. 1797 For one long term, or e'er her trial came, Here Brownrigg linger' d. Often have these cells Echoed her blasphemies, as with shriU voice She screamed for fresh G-eneva. Not to her Did the bhthe fields of Tothill, or thy street, St Griles, its fair varieties expand ; Till at the last, in slow-drawn cart she went To execution. Dost thou ask her crime ? She whipp'd two female 'prentices to death. And hid them in the coal-hole. For her mind Shaped strictest plans of discipline. Sage schemes 1 Such as Lycurgus taught, when at the shrine Of the Orthyan goddess he bade flog The little Spartans ; such as erst chastised Our Milton, when at college. For this act Did Brownrigg swing. Harsh laws ! But time shall come When France shall reign, and laws be aU repeal'd I •INSCEIPTION BY SOUTHEY KOB THE APAETMENT IN CHEPSTOW CASTLE, WUEEE HEXEY MAETEN, THE BEGIOIDB, WAS IMPEISONED THIETY YEAES. Fob thirty years, secluded from mankind, Here Maeten lingered. Often have these -walls Echoed his footsteps, as with even tread He paced around his prison : not to him Did Nature's fair varieties exist ; He never saw the sun's delightful beams. Save when through yon high bars he pour'd a sad And broken splendor. Dost thou ask his crime? He had eebell'd against the King, and sat In judgment on him ; for his ardent mind Shaped goodliest plans of happiness on earth, And peaco and liberty. Wild dreams I but such As Plato loved ; such as with holy zeal Our Milton worship' d. Bless' d hopes! awhile From man withheld, even to the latter days When Christ shall come, and all things be fulfill'd PARODIES AND BUELESQUES. 387 SONG* S BURLESQUE FROM TJIE ANTI- JACOBIN, 1798. THE ROVER. CANNING. I. Whene'er with haggard eyes I view This dungeon that I 'm rotting in, I think of those companions true Who studied with me at the TJ — university of Gottingen — — niversity of Gottingen. [Weeps, and pulls out a blue kerchief, with which he wipes his eyes ; gazing tenderly at it, he proceeds — Sweet kerchief, check'd with heavenly blue, Wliich once my love sat knotting in ! — Alas 1 Matnda then was true 1 At least I thought so at the U — — niversity of Gottingen — — university of Gottingen. TAt the repetition of this line Rogero clanks his chains in cadence. Barbs I Barbs ! alas 1 how swift you flew Her neat post-wagon trotting in I Ye bore Matilda from my view ; Forlorn I languish' d at the U — — niversity of Gottingen — — niversity of Gottingen. IV. This faded form 1 this palUd hue 1 This blood my veins is clotting in, • There is a curious circumstancfi connected with the composition of this song, the first five stanzas of which were written by Mr. Canning. Having been acci- dentally seen, previous to its publication, by Mr. Pitt, who was cognizant of the proceedings of the " Anti-Jacobiu" writers, he was so amused with it. +bat he look up a pen and composed the last stanza on the spot. 388 PAKODIES AND BURLESQUES. My years are many — they were few When first I entered at the U — — niversity of Gottingen — — university of Gottingen. There first for thee my passion grew, Sweet ! sweet Matilda Pottingen ! Thou wast the daughter of my tu — — ^tor, law professor at the U — — niversity at Gottingen — — niversity of Gottingen. Sun, moon and thou, vain world, adieu, That kings and priests are plotting in ; - Here doom'd to starve on water gru — — el, never shall I see the U — — niversity of Gottingen — — niversity of Gottingen. P)aring the last stanza Rogero dashes his head repeatedly against the -walls of his prison ; and, finally, so hard as to produce a visible contusion ; he then throws himself on the floor in an agony. The curtain drops ; the music still continuing to play till it is whoUy fallen. THE AMATORY SONNETS OF ABEL SHUFFLE- BOTTOM. ROBERT SOUTHET. I. DELIA AT PLAY. She held a Cup and Ball of ivory white, Less white the ivory than her snowy hand ! Enrapt, I watched her from my secret stand, As now, intent, in innocent delight, Her taper fingers tvmied the giddy ball, Now tost it, following still with eagle sight^ Now on the pointed end infixed its fall. Marking her sport I mused, and musing sighed. PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. 389 Methought the ball she played with was my heart ; (Alas 1 that sport hke that should be her pride !) And the keen point which steadfast still she eyed Where^vith to pierce it, that was Cupid's dart ; Shall I not then the cruel Fan- condemn Who on that dart impales my bosom's gem ? II. rhe poet proves the existpvce of a soul from his love for :elia. Some have denied a soul ! They never loved. Far from my Deha now by fate removed, At home, abroad, I view her everywhere! Her only in the flood of noon I see, My Goddess-Maid^ my omnipresent fair. For Love annihilates the world to me I And when the weary Sol around his bed Closes the sable curtains of the night. Sun of my slumbers, on my dazzled sight She shines confest. When every sound is dead^ The spirit of her voice comes then to roU The surge of music o'er my wavy brain. Far, far from her my Body drags its chain, But sure with Delia / exist a soul ! m. THE POET expresses HIS FEELINGS RESPECTING A PORTRAIT IM Delia's parlor. I would I were that portly gentleman With gold-laced hat and golden-headed cane, Who hangs in Delia's parlor ! For whene 'er From book or needlework her looks arise, On him converge the sun-beams of her eyes. And he unhlamed may gaze upon my fair, And oft MY fair his favored form surveys. happy picture ! still on her to gaze ; 1 envy him ! and jealous fear alarms. Lest the strong glance of those divinest charms Warm mM to life, as in the ancient days, When MARBLE melted in PygmaUon's arms. I would I were that portly gentleman. With gold-laced hat and golden-headed cane I 390 PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. THE LOVE ELEGIES OF ABEL SHUFFLEBOTTOM. ROBERT SOUTHEY. L THE POET RELATES HOW HE OBTAINED DELIA's POCKET-HANDKER- CHIEF. 'Tis mine ! what accents can my joy declare ? Blest be the pressure of the thronging rout ! Blest be the hand so hasty of my fair, That left the tempting corner hanging out I I envy not the joy the pilgrim feels, After long travel to some distant shrine, When at the rehc of his saint he kneels. For Deha's pocket-handkerchief is mine. When first with filching fingers I drew near, Keen hopes shot tremulous through every vem ; And when the finished deed removed my fear, Scarce could my bounding heart its joy contain. What though the eighth commandment rose to mind, It only served a moment's qualm to move ; For thefts hke this it could not be designed — The eighth commandment was not made for love 1 Here, when she took the maccaroons from me. She wiped her mouth to clear the crumbs so sweet I Dear napkin ! yes, she wiped her lips on thee I Lips sweeter than the maccaroons she eat. And when she took that pinch of Moccabaw, That made my love so delicately sneeze, Thee to her Eoman nose applied I saw. And thou art doubly dear for things hke these. No washerwoman's filthy hand shall e'er. Sweet pocket-handkerchief ! thy worth profane ; For thou hast touched the rubies of my fair. And I wiU kiss thee o'er and o'er again. PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. S91 n. THE POET EXPATIATES ON THE BEAUTY OF DELIa's HAIB, The comb between whose ivory teeth she strains The straightning curls of gold so beamy bright^ Not spotless merely from the touch remains, Eut issues forth mare pur e^ more milky white. The rose pomatum that the friseur spreads Sometimes with honored fingers for my fair, No added perfume on her tresses sheds, But borrows sweetness from her sweeter hair. Happy the Friseur who in Delia's hair With Hcensed fingers uncontrolled may rove I And happy in his death the dancing bear, Who died to make pomatum for my love. Oh could I hope that e'er my favored lays Might curl those lovely locks with conscious pride, Nor Hammond, nor the Mantuan shepherd's praise, I 'd envy them, nor wish reward beside. Cupid has strung from you, tresses fine, The bow that in my breast impeU'd his dart; From you, sweet locks ! he wove the subtile line Wherewith the urchin angled for my heart. Fine are my Delia's tresses as the threads That from the silk- worm, self-interr' d^ proceed ; Fine as the gleamy Gossamer that spreads His filmy net-work o'er the tangled mead. Yet with these tresses Cupid's power, elate, My captive heart has handcuffed in a chain. Strong as the cables of some huge first-rate, That bears Britannia's thunders o'er the main. The sylphs that round her radiant locks repair, Inflowing luster bathe their bright'ning wings; And Elfin Minstrels with assiduous care, The ringlets rob for Fairy Fiddlestrings. PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. III. POET RELATES HOW HE STOLE A LOCK OF DELIA's HAIR, AND HER ANGER. Oil ! be the day accurst that gave me birth ! Ye Seas ! to swallow me, in kindness rise ! FaU on me, mountains ! and thou merciful earth, Open, and hide me from my Delia's eyes. Let universal Chaos now return, ; Now let the central fires their prison burst, And Earth, and Heaven, and Air, and Ocean bum, For Delia frowns. She Frowns, and I am curst. Oh ! I could dare the fury of the fight, Where hostile millions sought my single life ; Would storm Yolcanoes, Batteries, with delight, And grapple with Grem Death in glorious strife. Oh 1 I could brave the bolts of angry Jove, When ceaseless lightnings fire the midnight skies ; What is his wrath to that of her I love ? What is his lightning to my Delia's eyes ? Go, fatal lock ! I cast thee to the wind ; Ye serpent curls, ye poison tendrils^ go ! Would I could tear thy memory from my mind, Accursed lock ; thou cause of all my woe ! Seize the curst curls, ye Furies, as they fly ! Demons of darkness, guard the infernal roU, That thence your cruel vengeance, when I die. May hnit the knots of torture for my- soul. Last night — Oh hear me, heaven, and grant my prayer I The book of fate before thy suppliant lay. And let me from its ample records tear Only the single page of yesterday ! Or let me meet old Time upon his flight. And I will stop him on his restless way ; Omnipotent in love's resistless might, rU force him hack the road of yesterday. PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. 393 Last nig]it, as o'er the page of love's despair, My DeKa bent delidously to grieve, I stood a treacherous loiterer by her chair, And drew the fatal scissors from my sleeve : And would at that instant o'er my thread The SHEARS OF Atropos had opened then ; And when I reft the lock from Delia's head, Had cut me sudden from the sons of men I She heard the scissors that fair lock divide, And while my heart with transport parted big, She cast a fury frown on me, and cried, " You stupid puppy — ^you have spoiled my wig I" THE BABY'S DEBUT.* [a burlesque lanXATION of WORDSWORTH. REJECTED ADDRESSES.J JAMES SMITH. [S^-^ken in the character of Nancy Lake, a girl eight years of age, who is drawn wpon the stage in a child's chaise by Samuel Hughes, her uncle's porter.] My brother Jack was nine in May, And I was eight on New-year's-day ; So in Kate Wilson's shop Papa (he 's my papa and Jack's) Bought me, last week, a doll of wax. And brother Jack a top. Jack 's in the pouts, and tliis it is — He thinks mine came to more than his ; So to my drawer he goes, Takes out the doll, and, 0, my stars 1 He pokes her head between the bars, And melts off half her nose I • " The author does not, in this instance, attempt to copy any of the higher attributes of Mr. Wordsworth' s poetry ; but has succeeded perfectly in the imi- tation of his mawkish affectations of childish simplicity and nursery stammering. We hope it will make him a/'hamed of his Alice Fell, and the greater part of his last volumes — of which it is liy no means a ;*arod7. bul a vet." fair, <».nd indeed we think a flattering, imita^ioix ' — EC jQj^g r Friends of each other. „ „ ( Who loill attempt the song of '■'■ Hen Blind Vocalist . . ..-< *i,r. n an-^Ti i the Bonny Breast Knot. ' The Scene represents Ludgate Hill in the middle of the day ; JPasS' engers^ Omnibuses^ etc., etc., passing to and fro. Meadows enters, musing. Meadows. I staml at last on Ludgate's famous hill ; I 've traversed Farringdon's frequented vale, I 've quitted Holborn's heigiits — the slopes of Snow, Where Skinner's sinuous street, with tortuous track, Trepans the traveler toward the field of Smith ; That field, whose scents burst on the ofiended nose With foulest flavor, wliile the thrice shocked ear, Thrice shocked with bellowing blasphemy and blows, Making one compound of Satanic sound, Is stunned, in physical and moral sense. But this is Ludgate Hill — here commerce thrives ; Here, merchants carry trade to such a height That competition, bursting builders' bonds, Starts from the shop, and rushing through the roof, Unites the basement with the floors above ; Till, like a giant, that outgrows Ms strength, The whole concern, struck with abrupt collapse, In one " tremendous failure" totters down ! — 'Tis food on which philosophy may fatten, [Turns round, musing, and looks into a shop trindow Enter Prigwell, talking to himself. PrigweU. I 've made a sorry day of it thus far ; I 've fathomed fifty pockets, all in vain ; I 've spent in omnibuses half-a-crown ; I 've ransacked forty female reticules — And notliing found — some business must be done. 452 PARODIES AND Bl RLESQUES. By Jove — I 'd rather turn Lascar at once : AHow the walnut's devastating juice. To track its inky course along my cheek, And stain my British brow with Indian brown. Or, failing that, I 'd rather drape myself In cheap white cotton, or gay colored chintz — Hang roung my ear the massive curtain-ring — With strings of bold, effective glassy beads Circle my neck — and play the Brahmin Priest, To win the sympathy of passing crowds, And melt the silver in the stranger's purse. But ah ! {seeing Meadows) the land of promise looms before me: The bulging skirts of that provincial coat TeU tales of well-filled pocket-books within. [Goes behind Meadows and empties his pockets. This is indeed a prize ! [Meadows turns suddenlj round. Your pardon, sir ; Is this the way to Newgate ? Meadows. Why, indeed I scarce can say ; I 'm but a stranger here, I should not Hke to misdirect you. PrigweU. Thank you, I '11 find the way to Newgate by myself. [Exit Meadows (siiU musing). This is indeed a great Metropolis. Unter Blind Vocalist. Blind Vocalist (singing). Hey, the bonny 1 (Knocks up against Meadows, who exit). Ho 1 the bonny — (A passenger knocks up against the Blind Vocal- ist on the other side). Hey, the bonny — (J. butcher's tray strikes the Bllnd Vocalist in the chest) — breast knot. As he continues singing " Hey, the bonny ! ho, the bonny" the Blind Vocalist encounters various collisions, and his breath being taken aivay by a poke or a push betioeen each bar, he is carried away by the stream of passengers. Enter Brown and Jones. Meeting, they stop and shake hands most cordially for several minutes. Brown^ How are you, Jones ? Jones. Why, Brown, I do declare 'Tis quite an age since you and I have met. Brown. I 'm quite delighted. Jones. I 'm extremely glad. [An awkward pause. Brown. Well ! and how are you ? PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. 453 Jones. Thank you, very well ; And you, I hope are well ? Brown. Quite well, I thank you. [Another awkward panse. Jones. Oh ! — ^by the way — have you seen Thomson lately ? Brown. jtTot very lately. {After a pause, and as if struck with a happy idea). But I met with SmTH — A week ago. Jones. Oh ! did you though, indeed ? And how was Smiti "^ Brown. Why, he seemed pretty well. [Another long pause ; at the end of -which both appear as If they were going to speak to each other. Jones. I beg your pardon. Smith. You were going to speak ? Jones. Oh ! nothing. I was only going to say — G-ood morning. Smith. Oh ! and so was I. Good-day. [Both shake hands, and are going off in opposite directions, ■when Smith turns round. Jones turning round at the same time they both return and look at each other. Jones. I thought you wished to speak, by looking back. Brown. Oh no. I thought the same. Both together. Good-by ! Good-by ! [Exeunt finally ; and the conversation and the curtain drop together. PROCLIVIOR. (A slight Variation on Longfellow's " Exoelsiob.") PUNCH. The shades of night were falling fast, As tow'rd the Haymarket there pass'd A youth, whose look told in a trice That his taste chose the queer device — Proclivior I His hat, a wide-awake ; beneath He tapp'd a cane against his teeth ; His eye was bloodshot, and there rung, Midst scraps of slang, in unknown tongue, Proclivior ! 464 PARODIES AND BURLESQUES In calm first-floors he saw the light Of circles cosy for the night ; But far ahead the gas-lamps glow ; He turn'd his head, and murmur'd " Slow," Proclivior ! " Come early home," his Uncle said, " We all are early off to bed ; The family blame you far and wide ;" But loud that noisy youth replied — Proclivior ! " Stay," said his Aunt, " come home to sup , Early retire — get early up." A wink half quivered in his eye ; He answered to the old dame's sigh — Proclivior I " Mind how you meddle with that lamp I And mind the pavement, for it's damp l" Such was the Peeler's last good-night. A faint voice stutter'd out " All right." Proclivior ! At break of day, as far West- ward A cab roll'd o'er the highways hard. The early mover stopp'd to stare At the wild shouting of the fare — Proclivior ! And by the bailiff's faithful hound, At breakfast-time, a youth was found, Upon three chairs, with aspect nice, True to his young life's qu er device, Proclivior 1 Thence, on a dull and muggy day, They bore him to the Bench away, And there for seveial months he lay, While friends speak gravely as they say — Proclivior I PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. 456 JONES AT THE BARBER'S SHOP. PUNCH. Scene. — A Barber's Shop. Barber's men engaged in cutting hoA/r^ making wigs, and other harheresque operations. Enter Jones, meeting Oily the harher. Jones. I wish my hair cut. Oily. Pray, sir, take a seat. [OiLT puts a chair for Jones, who sits. During the folio-wing dialogue O11.T oon* tinues cutting Jones's hair. Oily. We 've had much wet, sir. Jones. Very much, indeed. Oily. And yet November's early days were fine. Jones. They were. Oily. I hoped fair weather might have lasted us Until the end. Jones. At one time — so did I. Oily. But we have had it very wet. Jones. We have. [A pause of some minutes. Oily. I know not, sir, who cut your hair last time ; But this I say, sir, it was badly cut : No doubt 't was in the country. Jones. No ! in town ! Oily. Indeed ! I should have fancied otherwise. Jones. 'T was cut in town — and in this very room. Oily. Amazement I — but I now remember well We had an awkward, new provincial hand, A fellow from the country. Sir, he di*" More damage to my business in a week Than all my skill can in a year repair. He must have cut your hair. Jones (looking at him). No — 't was yourself. Oily. Myself! Impossible! You must mistake. Jones. I don't mistake — 't was you that cut my hair. [A long pause, interrupted only by the clipping of the Oily. Your hair is very dry, sir. Jones. Oh ! indeed. Oily. Our Vegetable Extract moistens it Jones. I like it dry. 456 PARODIES AND BURLESQUE R. Oily. But, sir, the hair when dry- Turns quickly gray. Jones. That color I prefer. OUy. But hair, when gray, will rapidly fall off, And baldness will ensue. Jones. I would be bald. OUy. Perhaps you mean to say you 'd like a wig. — We 've wigs so natural they can't be told From real hair. Jones. Deception I detf st. [Another pause ensues, during which OILTblo^7■s doym Jones's neck, and relieves him from the linen wrapper in which he has been enveloped during the process of hair-cutting. Oily. We 've brushes, soaps, and scent, of every kind. Jon£s. I see you have. {Pays 6d) I think you 'U find that right. Oily. If there is nothing I can show you, sir. Jones. No : nothing. Yet — there may be something, too. That you may show me. Oily. Name it, sir. Jones. The door. LExit JOKBS. Oily (to his man). ^ That 's a rum customer at any rate. Had I cut him as short as he cut me. How httle hair upon his head would be ! But if kind friends will all our pains requite, We '11 hope for better luck another night. [Shop-bell rings and curtain falla. THE SATED ONE. [impromptu after CHRISTMAS DINNER.] PUNCH. It may not be — go maidens, go. Nor tempt me to the mistletoe ; I once could dance beneath its bough, But must not, will not, can not, now I A weight — a load within I bear ; It is not madness nor despair ; But I require to be at rest. So that my burden may — digest 1 PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. 457 SAPPHICS OF THE CABSTAND* PUNCH. Friend of Self- Government. Seedy Cab-driver, w] dther art thou going ? Sad is thy fate — reduced to law and order, Local self-government yielding to the gripe of Centralization. Victim of FiTZROY ! little think the M.P.s, Lording it o'er cab, 'bus, lodging-house, and grave-yard, Of the good times when every Anglo Saxon's House was his castle. Say, hapless sufferer, was it Mr. Chadwick — Uu' lerground foe to the British Constitution — Or my Lord Shaftesbury, put up Mr. Fitzroy Thus to assail you ? Was it the growth of Continental notions, Or was it the MetropoUtan pohce-force Prompted this blow at Laissez-faire^ that free and Easiest of doctrines ? Have you not read Mr. Toulmin Smith's great work on Centrahzation ? If you have n't, buy it ; Meanwhile I should be glad at once to hear your View on the subject Cab-driver. View on the subjeck ? jiggered if I 've got one ; Only I wants no centryhsin', I don't — Which I suppose it's a crusher standin' sentry Hover a cabstand. Whereby if we gives e'er a word o' cheek to Parties as rides, they puUs us up like winkin' — And them there blessed beaks is down upon us Dead as an 'ammerl * See page 384. 20 458 PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. As for Mr. Toulmin Smith, can't say I knows him — But as you tallvs so werry like a gem'man, Perhaps you 're goin in 'ansome style to stand a Sliillin' a mile, sir ? Friend of Self- Government. I give a shilhng? I will see thee hanged first — Sixpence a mile — or drive me straight to Bow-street — Idle, ill-mannered, dissipated, dirty, Insolent rascal I JUSTICE TO SCOTLAND* [an unpublished poem by burns.] OOMMmnOATED BY THE EDINBIIEQ SOCIETY FOB PEOMOTrNG CIVILIZATION HI ENGLAND. PUNCH. MiCKLE yeuks the keckle doup, An' a' unsicker girns the graith, For wae and wae ! the crowdies loup O'er jouk an' hallan, braw an' baith. Where ance the coggie hirpled fair, And bhthesome poortith toomed the loof, There 's nae a burnie giglet rare But blaws in ilka jinking coof. The routhie bield that gars the gear Is gone where ghnt the pawky een. And aye the stound is birkin lear Where sconnered yowies wheepea yestreen, The creeshie rax wi' skelpin' kaes Nae mair the howdie bicker whangs, Nor weanies in their wee bit claes Glour light as lammies wi' their sangs. Yet leeze me on my bonnie byke I My drappie aiblins blinks the noo, * In this poom the Scottish -words and phrases are all ludicrou/,ly misapplied. PA.RODIES AND BUKLESQUES. 459 An' leesome luve has lapt the dyke Forgatherin' just a wee bit fou. And Scotia ! while thy rantin' lunt Is mirk and moop with gowans fine, I '11 stowlins pit my unco brunt, An' cleek my duds for auld lang syne. THE POETICAL COOKERY-BOOK. PUNCH. THE STEAK. AiE. — " The Sea." Of Steak — of Steak — of prime Rump Steak — A shoe of half-inch thickness take, . Without a blemish, soft and sound ; In weight a little more than a pound. Who 'd cook a Stake — ^who 'd cook a Steak — Must a fire clear proceed to make : With the red above and the red below, In one delicious genial glow. If a coal should come, a blaze to make, Have patience ! You must n't put on your Steak. First rub — ^yes, rub — with suet fat, The gridiron's bars, then on it flat Impose the meat ; and the fire soon Will make it sing a dehcious tune. And when 'tis brown' d by the genial glow, ' Just turn the upper side below. Both sides with brown being cover'd o'er. For a moment you broil your Steak no more, But on a hot dish let it rest. And add of butter a shoe of the best ; In a minute or two the pepper-box take. And with it gently dredge your Steak. When seasoned quite, upon the fire Some further time it will require ; And over and over be sure to turn Your Steak till done — nor let it bm^n : 460 PARODIES AND BURLESQUES For notliiiig drives me half so wild As a nice Rump Steak in the cooking spiled. I 've lived in pleasure mixed with grief, On fish and fowl, and mutton and beef; With plenty of cash, and power to range, But my Steak I never wished to change : For a Steak was always a treat to me. At breakfast, luncheon, dinner, or tea. ROASTED SUCKING-Pia. AiE — " Scots wha hae." Cooks who 'd roast a Sucking-pig, Purchase one not over big ; Coarse ones are not worth a fig ; So a young one buy. See that he is scalded well (That is done by those who sell), Therefore on that point to dwell. Were absurdity. Sage and bread, mix just enough, Salt and pepper qitantam suf., And the Pig's interior stuff, With the whole combined. To a fire that 's rather high, Lay it till completely dry ; Then to every part apply Cloth, with butter lined. Dredge with flour o'er and o'er, Till the Pig will hold no more ; Then do notliing else before 'Tis for serving fit. Then scrape off the flour with care ; Then a butter'd cloth prepare ; Rub it well ; then cut — not tear — Ofi' the head of it. PA.R0D1ES AND BURLESQUES. 461 Then take out and mix the brains With the gravy it contains ; While it on the spit remains, Cut the Pig in two. Chop the sage, and chop the bread Fine as very finest slired ; O'er it melted butter spread — Stinginess won't do. When it in the dish appears, Garnish with the jaws and ears ; And when dinner-hour nears, Eeady let it be. Who can offer such a dish May dispense with fowl and fish ; And if he a gTiest should wish, Let him send for me I BEiaNET DE POMMB. Am — '■'Home, Sweet Home.''* 'Mid emitters and lollipops though we may roam. On the whole, there is nothing like Beignet de Pomme. Of flour a pound, with a glass of milk share, And a half pound of butter the mixture will bear. Pomme ! Pomme ! Beignet de Pomme ! Of Beignets there 's none hke the Beignet de Pomme I A Beignet de Pomme, you will work at in vain, If you stir not the mixture again and again ; Some beer, just to thin it, may into it fall ; Stir up that, with three whites of eggs, added to aU. Pomme ! Pomme ! Beignet de Pomme ! Of Beignets there 's none like the Beignet de Pomme I Six apples, when peeled, you must carefully slice. And cut out the cores — if you '11 take my advice ; Then dip them in batter, and fry till they foam. And you 'U have in six minutes your Beignet de Pomme, Pomme 1 Pomme ! Beignet de Pomme 1 Of Beignets there 's none hke the Beignet d< Pomme ! <62 PARODIES AND BUELESQUES. CHERRY PIE. AiE — " Cherry Ripe" Cherry Pie ! Cherry Pie ! Pie ! I cry, Kentish cherries you may buy. If so be you ask me where To put the fruit, I '11 answer " There I" In the dish your fruit must he, When you make your Cherry Pie. Cherry Pie ! Cherry Pie ! etc. Cherry Pie ! Cherry Pie ! Pie I I cry ; Full and fair ones mind you buy Whereabouts the crust should go, Any fool, of course will know ; In the midst a cup may he, When you make your Cherry Pie. Cherry Pie ! Cherry Pie ! etc DEYILED BISCUIT. AiE — " A Temple of Friendship.''^ " A NICE Devil' d Biscuit," said Jenkins enchanted, " I '11 have after dinner — the thought is divine 1" The biscuit was bought, and he now only wanted — To fully enjoy it — a glass of good wine. He flew to the pepper, and sat down before it, And at peppering the well-butter'd biscuit he went; Then, some cheese in a paste mix'd with mustard spread o'er it, And down to be grill'd to the kitchen 'twas sent. " Oh ! how," said the Cook, " can I this think of grilhng, When common the pepper ? the whole will be flat. But here 's the Cayenne ; if my master is willing, I '11 make, if he pleases, a devil with that." So the Footman ran up with the Cook's observation To Jenkins, who gave him a terrible look : " Oh, go to the devil I" forgetting liis station. Was the answer tliat Jenkins sent down to the Cook PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. 463 RED HEERINGS. Meet me by Moonlight.^* Meet me at breakfast alone, And then I will give you a dish Which really deserves to be known, Though it 's not the genteelest of fish. You must promise to come, for I said A splendid Red Herring I 'd buy — Nay, turn not away your proud head ; You '11 like it, I know, when you try. If moisture the Herring betray. Drain, till from moisture 'tis free ; Warm it through in the usual way, Then serve it for you and for me. A piece of cold butter prepare, To rub it when ready it Hes ; Egg-sauce and potatoes don't spare, And the flavor will cause you surprise. IRISH STEW. AiB— " Happy Land" Irish stew, Irish stew ! Whatever else my dinner be, Once again, once again, I 'd have a dish of thee. Mutton chops, and onion shoe, Let the water cover, With potatoes, fresh and nice ; Boil, but not quite over, Irish stew, Irish stew I Ne'er from thee, my taste wiU stray. I could eat Such a treat Nearly every day. La, la, la, la ! 4-64 PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. BARLEY BROTH. Am—" The King, God bless Mm /" A BASIN of Barley Broth make, make for me ; Give those who prefer it, the plain : No matter the broth, so of barley it be, If we ne'er taste a basin again. For, oh ! when three pounds of good mutton you buy, And of most of its fat dispossess it. In a stewpan uncover'd, at first, let it lie ; Then in water proceed to dress it. Hun-ah ! hurrah ! hurrah ! In a stewpan uncover'd, at first, let it He ; Then in water proceed to dress it. What a teacup will hold — ^you should first have been told- Of barley you gently should boil ; The pearl-barley choose — 'tis the nicest that 's sold — All others the mixture might spoil. Of carrots and turnips, small onions, green peas (If the price of the last don't distress one). Mix plenty ; and boil altogether with these Your basin of Broth when you dress one. Hurrah ! hurrah ! hurrah ! Two hours together the articles boil ; There 's your basin of Broth, if you 'd dress one. CALF'S HEART. Are — " Maid of Athens, ere we part". Maid of aU work, as a part Of my dinner, cook a heart ; Or, since such a dish is best, Give me that, and leave the rest. Take my orders, ere I go ; Heart of calf we '11 cook thee so. Buy — to price you 're not confined- Such a heart as suits your mind : Buy some suet — and enough Of the herbs required to stufi'; PARODIES A.ND BURLESQUES. i65 Buy some le Qon-peel — and, oh ! Heart of calf, we '11 fill thee so. Buy some onions — -just a taste — Buy enough, but not to waste ; Buy two eggs of slender shell, Mix, and stir the mixture well ; Crumbs of bread among it throw ; Heart of calf we '11 roast thee so. Maid of all work, when 'tis done, Serve it up to me alone : Rich brown gravy round it roll, Marred by no intruding coal ; Currant jeUy add — and lo ! Heart of calf, I '11 eat thee so. THE CHRISTMAS PUDDING. Atb — " Jeannette and JeannoV* If you wish to make a pudding in which every one dehghts, Of a dozen new-laid eggs you must take the yolks and whites ; Beat them well up in a basin till they thoroughly combine, And shred and chop some suet particularly fine ; Take a pound of weU-stoned raisins, aud a pound of currants dried, A pound of pounded sugar, and a pound of peel beside ; Stir them all well up together with a pound of wheaten flour, And let them stand and settle for a quarter of an hour ; Then tie the pudding in a cloth, and put it in the pot, — Some people hke the water cold, and some prefer it hot ; But though I don't know which of these two methods I should praise, I know it ought to boLl an hour for every pound it weighs. Oh ! if I were Queen of France, or, still better, Pope of Rome, I 'd have a Christmas pudding every day I dined at home ; And as for other puddings whatever they might be, Why those who like the nasty things should eat them all for me; 20* 466 PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. APPLE PIE. 'MW thafs bright must fade.''^ All new dishes fade — The newest oft the fleetest ; Of all the pies now made, The Apple's still the sweetest ; Cut and come again, The syrup upward springing I While my life and taste remain, To thee my heart is clinging. Other dainties fade — The newest oft the fleetest ; But of all the pies now made, The Apple's still the sweetest. Who absurdly buys Fruit not worth the baking ? Who wastes crust on pies That do not pay for making ? Better far to be An Apple Tartlet buying, Than to make one at home, and see On it there 's no relying : That aU must be weigh'd, When thyself thou treatest — Still a pie home-made Is, after all, the sweetest. Who a pie would make, First his apple slices ; Then he ought to take Some cloves — the best of spices ; G-rate some lemon rind. Butter add discreetly ; Then some sugar mix — but mind The pie 's not made too sweetly. Every pie that 's made With sugar, is corapletest ; But moderation should pervade — Too sweet is not the sweetest. PAKODIES AND BURLESQUES. 467 Who would tone impart, Must — if my word is trusted — A.dd to his pie cf tart A glass of port — old crusted If a man of taste, He, complete to make it, In the very finest paste Will inclose and bake it Pies have each their grade ; But, when this thou eatest, Of aU that e'er were made, You '11 say 'tis best and sweetest LOBSTER SALAD. AiB. — " Blue Bonnets over the Border.^ Take, take, lobsters and lettuces ; Mind that they send you the fish that you order : Take, take, a decent-sized salad bowl, One that 's sufficiently deep in the border. Cut into many a slice All of the fish that 's nice. Place in the bowl with due neatness and order : Then hard-boil' d eggs you may Add in a neat array All round the bowl, just by way of a border. Take fi:'om the cellar of salt a proportion : Take from the castors both pepper and oil, With vinegar, too — but a moderate portion — Too much of acid your salad will spoil. Mix them together, You need not mind whether You blend them exactly in apple-pie order ; But when you 've stirr'd away, Mix up the whole you may — AU but the eggs, which are used as a border. Take, take, plenty of seasoning ; A teaspoon of parsley that 's chopp'd in small pieces ' Though, though, the point will bear reasoning, A small taste of onion the flavor increases. 468 PARODIES AND B.ELESQTJES As the sauce curdle may, Should it : the process stay, Patiently do it again in due order ; For, if you chance to spoil Yinegar, eggs, and oil, Still to proceed would on lunacy border. STEWED STEAK Ara. — "Bad la Heart for Falsehood Framed.** Had I pound of tender Steak, I 'd use it for a stew ; And if the dish you would partake, I '11 tell you what to do. Into a stew-pan, clean and neat, Some butter should be flung : And with it stew your pound of meat, A tender piece — ^but young. And when you find the juice express'd By culinary art, To draw the gravy off, were best, And let it stand apart. Then, lady, if you 'd have a treat. Be sure you can't be wrong To put more butter to your meat, Nor let it stew too long. And when the steak is nicely done, To take it off were best ; And gently let it fry alone. Without the sauce or zest ; Then add the gravy — with of wine A spoonful in it flung ; And a shalot cut very fine — Let the shalot be young. And when the whole has been combined, More stewing 't will require ; Ten minutes will suffice — ^but mind, Don't have too quick a fire. PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. 469 Then serve it up — 't will form a treat 1 Nor fear you 've cook'd it wrong ; Gourmets in all the old 't will meet, And gourmands in the young. GTREEN PEA SOUP. The Ivy Green." Oh I a splendid Soup is the true Pea Green • I for it often call ; And up it comes in a smart tureen, When I dine in my banquet halL When a leg of mutton at home is boil'd, The liquor I always keep, And in that Hquor (before 'tis spoil'd) A peck of peas I steep. When boil'd till tender they have been, I rub through a sieve the peas so green. Though the trouble the indolent may shock, I rub with all my power ; And having return' d them to the stock, I stew them for more than an hour: Then of younger peas I take some more, The mixture to improve, Thrown in a httle time before The soup from the fire I move. Then seldom a better soup is seen, Than the old familiar soup Pea Grreen. Since first I began my household career. How many my dishes have been ! But the one that digestion never need fear, Is the simple old soup Pea G-reen. The giblet may tire, the gravy paU, And the turtle lose its charm ; But the Green Pea triumphs over them all, And does not the sHghtest harm. Smoking hot in a smart tureen, A rare soup is the true Pea Green I 470 PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. TRIFLE. AiB— " The Meeting of the Waters.** There's not in the wide world so tempting a sweet As that Trifle where custard and macaroons meet; Oh I the latest sweet tooth from my head must depart Ere the taste of that Trifle shall not win my heart. Yet it is not the sugar that 's thrown in between, Nor the peel of the lemon so candied and green ; 'Tis not the rich cream that 's whipp'd up by a mill : Oh, no ! it is something more exquisite still. Tis that nice macaroons in the dish I have laid, Of which a delicious foundation is made ; And you '11 find how the last will in flavor improve. When soak'd with the wine tliat you pour in above. Sweet plateau of Trifle 1 how great is my zest For thee, when spread o'er with the jam I love best , When the cream white of eggs — to be over thee thrown, With a whisk kept on purpose — ^is mingled in one 1 MUTTON CHOPS. ." Co'ine dwell with me.'* Come dine with me, come dine with me. And our dish shall be, our dish shall be, A Mutton Chop from the butcher's shop — And how I cook it you shall see. The Chop I choose is not too lean ; For to cut off the fat I mean. Then to the fire I put it down. And let it fry until 'tis brown. Come dine with me ; yes, dine with me, etc. I 'U fry some bread cut rather fine, To place betwixt each chop of mine ; Some spinach, or some cauhflowers, May ornament this dish of ours. PARODIES A1^T> BURLESQUES. 471 I will not let thee once repine At having come with me to dine : 'T will be my pride to hear thee say, " I have enjoy'd my Chop, to-day." Come, dine with me ; yes, dine with me ; Dine, dine, dine, with me, etc. BARLEY WATER. ." On the Banks of Allan W(Uer.** For a jug of Barley Water Take a saucepan not too small ; Give it to your wife or daughter, If within your call. If her duty you have taught her, Yery willing each will be To prepare some Barley Water Cheerfully for thee. For a jug of Barley Water, Half a gallon, less or more. From the filter that you bought her, Ask your wife to pour. When a saucepan you have brought her Polish' d bright as bright can be, In it empty all the water. Either you or she. For your jug of Barley Water ('Tis a drink by no means bad), Some two ounces and a quarter Of pearl barley add. When 'tis boihng, let your daughter Skim from blacks to keep it free ; Added to your Barley Water Lemon rind should be. For your jug of Barley Water (I have made it very oft). It must boil, so tell your daughter, Till the barley's soft. 472 PARODIES AND BURLESQUES Juice of a small lemon's quarter Add ; then sweeten all like tea ; Strain through sieve your Barley Water— 'T will delicious be. BOILED CHICKEN. AcB— " jVora/i Creina." Lesbia hath a fowl to cook ; But, being anxious not to spoU it, Searches anxiously our book, For how to roast, and how to boil it Sweet it is to dine upon — Quite alone, when small its size is; — And, when cleverly 'tis done. Its delicacy quite surprises. Oh ! my tender pullet dear ! My boiled — not roasted — tender Chicken I can wish No other dish, With thee supplied, my tender Chicken 1 Lesbia, take some water cold. And having on the fire placed it. And some butter, and be bold — When 'tis hot enough — taste it. Oh ! the Chicken meant for me Boil before the fire grows dimmer , Twenty minutes let it be In the saucepan left to simmer. Oh, my '.'.nder Chicken dear ! My boil'd, delicious, tender Chicken I Rub the breast (To give a zest) With lemon-juice, my tender Chicken. Lesbia hath with sauce combined Broccoli white, without a tarnish ; 'Tis hard to tell if 'tis design' d For vegetable or for garnish. PARODIES AND BTJELESQUES. 47H Pillow'd on a butter'd dish, My Chicken temptingly reposes, Making gourmands for it wish. Should the savor reach their noses. Oh, my tender pullet dear I My boiled — not roasted — tender Chicken I Day or night, Thy meal is light, For supper, e'en, my tender Chicken, STEWED DUCK AND PEAS. ArR — '•'■My Heart and Lute." I GIVE thee all, I can no more. Though poor the dinner be ; Stew'd Duck and Peas are all the store That I can offer thee. A Duck, whose tender breast reveals Its early youth full well ; And better still, a Pea that peels From fresh transparent shell. Though Duck and Peas may fail, alas I One's hunger to allay ; At least for luncheon they may pass, The appetite to stay. If seasoned Duck an odor bring From which one would abstain. The Peas, Hke fragrant breath of Spring, Set all to rights again. I give thee all my kitchen lore, Though poor the offering be ; I '11 tell thee how 'tis cook'd, before You come to dine with me : The Duck is truss'd from head to heels, Then stew'd with butter well ; And streaky bacon, which reveals A most delicious smell. 474 PARODIEiS AND BURLESQUES. When Duck and Bacon in a mass You in the stew-pan lay, A spoon around the vessel pass, And gently stir away : A table-spoon of flour bring, A quart of water bring, Then in it twenty onions fling. And gently stir again. A bunch of parsley, and a leaf Of ever- verdant bay. Two cloves — I make my language brief — Then add your Peas you may 1 And let it simmer till it sings In a dehcious strain, Then take your Duck, nor let the strings For trussing it remain. The parsley fail not to remove, Also the leaf of bay ; Dish up your Duck — the sauce improve In the accustom' d way, With pepper, salt, and other things, I need not here explain : -Ind, if the dish contentment brings, You '11 dine with me again. CURRY. Tmans pounds of veal my darhng girl prepares, And chops it nicely into little squares ; Five onions next prepares the little minx (The biggest are the best her Samiwel thinks). And Epping butter, nearly half a pound, And stews them in a pan un^il they 're brown'd. What 's next my dexterous little girl will do ? She pops the meat into the savory stew, With curry powder, table-spoonfulls three. And milk a pint (the richest that may be) ; PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. 475 And, when the dish has stewed for half-an-hour, A lemon's ready juice she '11 o'er it pour : Then, bless her ! then she gives the luscious pot A very gentle boil — and serves quite hot. P. S. Beef, mutton, rabbit, if you wish ; Lobsters, or prawns, or any kind of fish Are fit to make a curry. 'Tis, when done, A dish for emperors to feed upon. THE RAILWAY GILPIN, PCNOtt John Gilpin is a citizen ; For lineage of renown. The famed John Gilpin's grandson, he Abides in London town. To our John Gilpin said his dear, " Stewed up here as we 've been Since Whitsuntide, 'tis time that we Should have a change of scene. " To-morrew is a leisure day, And we '11 by rail repair Unto the JSTell at Dedmanton, And take a breath of air. " My sister takes our eldest child ; The youngest of our three Will go in arms, and so the ride Won't so expensive be." John soon replied, " I don't admire That railway, I, for one ; But you know best, my dearest dear, And so it must be done. " I, as a linen-draper bold. Will bear myself, and though 'Tis Friday by the calendar. Will risk my hmbs, and go." 476 PARODIES AND BFELESQUES Quoth Mistress Gilpin, " Nicely said : And then, besides, look here, We '11 go by the Excursion Train, Which mak^s it still less dear." John Gilpin poked his clever wife, And slightly smiled to find That though on peril she was bent, She had a careful mind. The morning came ; a cab was sought : The proper time allow'd To reach the station door ; but lo 1 ' Before it stood a crowd. For half an hour they there were stay'd, And when they did get in — " No train 1 a hoax !" cried clerks, agog To swear through thick and thin. " Yaa !" went the throats ; stamp went th»» ncels Were never folks so mad. The disappointment dire beneath ; All cried " it was too bad !" John Gilpin home would fain have hied, But he must needs remain, Commanded by his willful bride, And take the usual train. 'T was long before our passengers Another train could find. When — stop ! one ticket for the fares Was lost or left behind ! " Good lack !" quoth John, "yet try it on.** " 'T won't do," the Guard repUes ; And bearing wife and babes on board, The train without him flies. Now see him in a second train. Behind the iron steed, Borne on, slap dash — for life or bone3 With small concern or heed. PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. ill Away went Gilpin, neck or naught, Exclaiming, " Dash my wig ! Oh, here's a game ! oh, here *s a go I A running such a rig !" A signal, hark ! — the whistle screamed — Smash ! went the windows all : " An accident !" cried out each one, As loud as he could bawl. Away went Gilpin, never mind — His brain seemed spinning round ; Thought he, " This speed a killing pace Will prove, I '11 bet a pound 1" And still, as stations they drew near, The whistle shrilly blew, And in a trice, past signal-men, The train like Ughtning flew. Thus, all through merry Killbury, Without a stop shot they ; But paused, to 'scape a second smash, At Dedmanton so gay. At Dedmanton his loving wife. On platform waiting, spied Her tender husband, striving much To let himself outside. " Hallo ! John Gilpin, here we are- Come out!" they all did cry; "To death with waiting we are tired 1" •Guard!" shouted Gilpin, "Hi!" But no — ^the train was not a bit Arranged to tarry there. For why ? — ^because 't was an Express^ And did dispatches bear. So, in a second, off it flew Again, and dashed along. As if the deuce 't were going to, With motive impulse strong. 4 78 PAKODIES AND BURLESQUES. Away went Gilpin, on the breath Of puffing steam, until They came unto their journey's end, Where they at last stood still. And then — best thing that he could do — He book'd himself for Town ; They stopped at every station up, Till he again got down. Says Gilpin, " Sing, Long hve the Queen, And eke long life to me ; And ere I '11 trust that Line again. Myself I blest will see I" ELEGY, WRITTEN IN A RAILWAY STATION. The Station clock proclaims the close of day ; The hard- worked clerks drop gladly off to tea ; The last train starts upon its dangerous way, And leaves the place to darkness and to me. Now fades the panting engine's red tail-hght, And all the platform solemn stillness holds, Save where the watchmen, pacing for the night, By smothered coughs announce their several colds. Behind that door of three-inch planldng made. Those frosted panes placed too high up to peep. All in their iron safes securely laid, The cooked account-books of the EaUway sleep. The Debts to credit side so neatly borne, What should be losses, profits proved instead ; The Dividends those pages that adorn No more shall turn the fond Shareholder's head. Oft did the doubtful to their balance yield, Their evidence arithmetic could choke : How jocund were they that to them appealed I How many votes of thanks did they provoke I PUNCH. PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. 4*79 Let not Derision mock King Hudson's toil, Who made things pleasant greenhorns to allure ; Nor prudery give hard names unto the spoil 'T was glad to share — while it could share secure. AU know the way that he his fortune made, How he bought votes and consciences did hire ; How hands that Grold anu Silver-sticks have swayed To grasp his dirty palm would oft aspire, Till these accounts at last their doctored page, Thanks to mischance and panic, did unroll, When virtue suddenly became the rage, And wiped G-eorge Hudson out of fasliion's scrolL Full many a noble Lord who once serene The feasts at Albert Gate was glad to share. For tricks he blushed not at, or blushed unseen, Now cuts the Iron King with vacant stare. For those who, mindful of their money fled, Rejoice m retribution, sure though late — Should they, by ruin to reflection led, Ask Punch to point the moral of his fate. Haply that wooden-headed sage may say, " Oft have I seen him, in Ms fortune's dawn. When at his levees elbowing their way. Peer's ermine might be seen and Bishop's lawn. " There the great man vouchsafed in turn to each Advice, what scrip or shares 't was best to buy, There his own arts his favorites he would teach, And put them up to good tilings on the sly. " Till to the Houso by his admirers borne, Warmed with Champagne in flustered speech he strove, And on through commerce, colonies, and corn. Like engine, without break or driver, drove. " Till when he ceased to dip in fortune's till. Out came one cooked account — of our M. P. ; Another came — yet men scarce ventured, still, T'> t^ink their idol such a rogue could be. ^80 PAEODIES AND BURLESQUES. " Until those figures set in sad array- Proved how his victims he had fleeced and shorn — Approach and read (if thou canst read) my lay, Writ on him more in sadness than in scorn." THE EPITAPH. Here lies, the gUt rubbed off his sordid earth, A man whom Fortune made to Fashion known ; Though void ahke of breeding, parts, or birth, God Mammon early marked liim for his own. Large was his fortune, but he bought it dear ; When he won foully he did freely spend. He plundered no one knows how much a-year, But Chancery o'ertook him in the end. No further seek his fraUties to disclose : For many of his sins should share the load : While he kept rising, who asked how he rose ? While we could reap, what cared we how he sowed ? THE BOA AND THE BLANKET.* AN APOLOGUE OF THE ZOOLOGICAL GARDENS. — [aFTER WARREN.] PUNCH. It is talked of Now ! Was talked of Yesterday 1 May be muttered to-morrow ! What ? — The Boa that Bolted the Blanket, Speckled Enthusiast ! It was faU moon's full moonlight ! The Shilling I had paid down at the Gate Seem'd hung in Heaven. To Newton's Eye (As Master of the Mint). A Splendid, yea. Celestial Shilling 1 [ was alone, with Nothing to Speak of But Creation ! * A fe\7 days before this burlesque of Warren appeared, a boa-constrictor ic fcbft lA>ndon Zoological Gardens swallowed the blanket that had served as its bed. PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. 481 Yes ! Grigantic Noah's Ark of twenty times her tonnage, Lay crouch'd, and purring, and velvety, and fanged About me ! Cane-colored tigers — rug-spotted Leopards — Snakes (ah, Cupid !) knit and interknit — to true love knots Semblable ! Striped Zebra — Onager Calcitrant — Common Ass, And I — and all were there I The bushy Squirrel with his half-cracked Nut, Slept. The Boar of Allemagne snored. The Lion's Cage was hot with heat of blood : And Peace in Curtain Eing linked two Ring Doves I In G-ardens Zoological and Regent, I, meditating, stood! And still the moon looked wondrous Uke a Shilling, Impartial Moon, that showed me all. My heart fluttered as tho' winged from Mercury 1 I moved — approached the Snake-House ! Oh, the balm of Paradise that came and went ! The silver gleams of Eden shooting down the trembling strings Of my melodious heart ! Down — down to its coral roots ! I dashed aside the human tear ; and — yes — ^prepared myself With will, drunk from the eyes of Hope, to gaze upon the Snake I The Boa ! ! The Python ! ! I The Anaconda ! ! 1 1 A Boa was there 1 A Boa, 'neath Crystal Roof I And rabbits, taking the very moonlight in their paws, Washed their meek faces. Washed, then hopped I "And so (I couldn't help it) so," I groaned — "the ancient Snake — That milk-white thing — and innocent — trustful I And then. Death — Death — And lo ! there, typical, it is — it is — The Blanket ! ! Death shred of Hving thing that cropped the flower; And, thoughtless, bleated forth its little baa-a I" 21 482 PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. Away ! I will not tarry ! Let the Boa sleep, And Eabbits, that have given bills to destiny, Meet his demand at three and six months' date 1 (We know such Boas and rabbits, Know we not ?) Let me pass on I And here 'tis cool ; nay, even cold Without the Snake-House ! The Moon still ghstens, and again I think Of Multitudes who 've paid and stared, and yawned and wan- dered here ! The city muckworm, who Prom peacock orient, scarce could teU a cock Of hay! Though be ye sure, a guinea from a guinea-pig He knows, and (as for money) Ever has his squeak for 't ! Here, too, paused the wise, sagacious man, Master of probabilities I He sees the tusk of elephant — the two tusks — And, with a thought, cuts 'em into cubes — And with another thought — another — and another— Tells (to himself) how oft, in twenty years Those spotted squares shall come up sixes 1 And this in hving elephant ! And Her Majesty has trod these Walks, Accompanied By Prince Albert, The Prince of Wales, The Princess Royal, And The Rest of the Royal Children I— She saw the Tiger ! Did she think of Tippoo Saib's Tiger's Head? She saw the Lion ! Thought she of one of her own Arms ? She did not see the Unicorn ; but PAllODIES AND BUKLESQUES. 488 ( Wit'n her gracious habits of condescension) Did she think of him a bit the less ? Thoughts crowd upon me — cry move en I And now I am here ; and whether I will or no, I feel I 'm jolly ! The Chameleons are asleep, and, like the Cabinet (Of course I mean the Whigs), Know not, when they rise to-morrow, What color they will wake ! — The baby elephant aeems prematurely old : Its infant hide all corrugate with thoughts Of cakes and oranges given it by boys ; Alas ! in Chancery now, and paralytic ! This is very sad. No more of it I Ha ! ha ! here sits the Ape — the many-colored wight ! Thou hast marked him, with nose of scarlet seahng-wax, And so be-colored with prismatic hues, As though he had .come from sky to earth — Sliding and wiping a fresh-painted rainbow I Hush ! I have made a perfect circle ! And at the Snake-House once again I stand I Such is life ! Eh! Oh! Help! Murder! Dreadful Accident! To be conceived — Oh, perhaps ! Described — Oh, never ! Keepers are up, and crowd about the box — The Boa's box — with unconcerned rabbits 1 Not so the Boa ! Look ! Behold ! And where 's the Blanket ? In the Boa's inside place ! The Monster mark ! How he writhes and wrestles with the wool, as though He had within him rolls and rolls Of choking, suffocating influenza. That lift his eyes from out their sockets ! — Of fleecy phlegm That will neither in or out, but mid-way Seem to strangle ! Silence and wonder settle on the crowd ; From whom instinctively and breathlessly, 484 PARODIES AND BUKLESQUB8. Ascend two pregnant questions I « Wm the Boa bolt the blanket ? Will the blanket choke the Boa ?" Such the problem ! And then men mark and deduce Differently, "7%e Blanhet is England: the Boa the Pope, WiU the Pope disgorge Ms Bull ?" '■'■The Blanket's Free ^ade: the Corn- Gorged Folk Is the Boa with plenty stifled /" ''The Blanket's Reform to gag the mdby And naught to satisfy /" But I, a lofty and an abstract man, A creature of a liigher element Than ever nourished the wood Ordained for ballot-boxes — I Say notliing ; until a Keeper comes to me, and, Hooking liis fore-finger in his forehead's lock, Says — "What 's your opinion, Sir? If Boas will bolt Blankets, Boas must : If Snakes will rush upon their end, why not ?" " My friend," said I, " The Blanket and the Boa— You will conceive me — are a type, yes, just a type, Of this our day. The dumb and monstrous, tasteless appetite Of stupid Boa, to gobble up for food What needs must scour or suffocate, Not nourish ! My friend , let the wool of that one blanket Warm but the back of one live sheep. And the Boa would bolt the animal entire. And flourish on his meal, transmuting flesh and bone% And turning them to healthful nutriment 1 Believe this vital truth ; The stomach may take down and digest And sweetly, too, a leg of mutton ; That would turn at and reject One Httle ball of worsted I" PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. 485 On saying tliis I turned away , Feeling adown tlie small-o'-the back That gentle warmth that waits upon us, when we know We have said a good thing; Knowing it better than the vain world Ever can or ever will. Reader, I have sung my song 1 The Boa and the B , Uke new-found star, Is mine no longer ; but the world's ! — Tell me, how have I sung it ? With what note ? With note akin that immortal bard The snow-white Swan of Avon ? Or haply, to that — Eara avis, —That has -"Tried Warren's?" THE DILLY AND THE FS,* [an apologue of the oxford installation.] BY S — L W — RR N, Q.S., LL.D,, F.R.S. PUNCH. PART FIRST. Oh, Spirit ! Spirit of Literature, Ahen to Law 1 Oh, Muse ! ungracious to thy sterner sister, Themis, Whither away ? — Away I Far from my brief — Brief with a fee upon it. Tremendous I And probably — before my business is concluded— A Refresher — ^nay, several 1 I Whither whirlest thou thy thrall ? Thy willing thrall ? ''Now and Tlien;'' But not just at this moment^ If you please, Spirit I • Burlesque of Warren's Poem of " The Lily and the Bee," published at the time of the great Exhibition of 1851. 480 PARODIES AND BUELSSQUES. No, let me read and ponder on The Pleadings. Declaration I Plea! ! Replication! ! I Rejoinder ! ! ! 1 Surrejoinder! ! I ! I Rebutter! ! ! ! ! 1 Surrebutter! ! ! I ! I ? ETC ! ETC ! 1 ETC ! ! I It may not be. The Muse — As ladies often are — Though lovely, is obstinate, And will have her own way 1 * * * * And am I not As well as a Q.S., An RR.S. And LL.D. ? Ask Blackwood The reason why, and he will tell you ; So will the Mayor — The Mayor of Hull ! I obey, Spirit. Hang my brief — 'tis gone ! — To-morrow let my junior cram me in Court. Whither away ? Where am I ? What is it I behold ? In space, or out of space ? I know not. In fact I 've not the least idea if I 'm crazy. Or sprung — sprung ? I 've only had a pint of Port at dinner And can't be sprung — Oh, no ! — Shame on the thought 1 I see a coach ! — Is it a coach ? Not exactly. Yet it has wheels — Wheels within wheels — and on the box A driver, and a cad behind, And Horses — ^Horses ? — PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. 487 Bethink thee — ^Worm ! — Are they Horses ? or that race Lower than Horses, but with longer ears And less intelligence — In fact — " equi asini" Or in vernacular JACKASSES? 'Tis not a coach exactly — Now I see on the panels — Pricked out and flourished— A word ! A magic word — "THE DILLY!"— "The Derby DILLYI" Oh DHly ! Dilly I— all thy passengers Are outsiders — The road is rough and rutty — And thy driver, like Nimshi's son — Driveth Furiously ! And the cad upon the monkey-board The monkey-board behind, Scorneth the drag — but goes DownhOl like mad. He hath a Caucasian brow I A son of Shem, is he, Not of Ham— Nor Japheth — In fact a Jew — But see, the pace Grows faster — and more fast — ^in fact- I may say A case of Furious driving I Take care, you '11 be upset — Look out I Holloa I * * * * Horrible! Horrible I 1 Horrible I 1 ' The Dilly— With all its precious freight Of men and Manners — Is gone I Gone to immortal SMASH 1 488 PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. Pick up the pieces ! Let me wipe my eyes! Oh Muse — lend me my scroll To do it with, for I have lost My wipe ! PART SECOND. * * * Again upon the road The road to where ? To nowhere in particular 1 Ah, no — I thank thee. Muse — That hint — 'tis a finger-post, And " he that runs may read" — He that runs ? But I am not running — I am riding — How came I here ? — what am I riding on ? Who are my fellow-passengers ? All, ha ! I recognize them now I The Coach— The Box— The Driver — And the Cad — I 'm on the Dilly, and the Dilly Is on the road again And now I see That finger-post 1 It saith " To Oxford Fifty-two miles." And, hark ! a chorus I From all the joyous load, Driver and cad, and all ! " We go," they sing — To Oxford to be doctored." To be Doctored ? Then, wherefore Are ye so cheerful ? I was not cheerful in my early days- Days of my buoyant boyhood— PARODIES A.ND BUELESQTJES. 489 When, after inglutition Of too much Christmas pudding, Or Twelfth cake saccharine, I went, as we go now, To be Doctored 1 Salts 1 Senna and Rhubarb ! I Jalap and Ipecacuanha I I 1 And Antimonial Wine 111! " Worm I Idiot! ! DONKEY 1 I 1" Said the fi'ee-spoken Muse " With them thou goest to be doctored, too. Not in medicine — but in Law — All these — and thou — Are going to be made Honorary LL.D.S ! Behold ! And know thy company- Be thou familiar with them. But by no means vulgar — For famiUarity breeds contempt ; And no man is a hero To his valtt-de-chambre ! So ponder and perpend." DERBY! The wise, the meek, the chivalrous — Mirror of knightly graces And daily dodges ; Who always says the right things At the right time. And never forgets himself as others— Nor changes his side Nor his opinion — A Stanley to the core, as ready To fight As erst on Flodden Field His mail-clad ancestor. — See the poem 21* 490 PARODIES AND BUELESQUES Of Marmion, By Sir Walter Scott I DIZZY/ Dark — supple — subtle — With mind lithe as the limbs Of Ishmael's sous, his swart progenitora— With tongue sharp as the spear That o'er Sahara Flings the blue shadow Of the crown of ostrich feathers — As described so graphically By Layard, in his recent book On Nineveh ! With tongue as sharp As aspic's tooth of Nilus, Or sugary Upon the occasion As is the date Of Tafilat. Dizzy, the bounding Arab Of the poUtical arena — As swift to whirl Right about face — As strong to leap From premise to conclusion- As great in balancing A budget — Or flinging headlong His somersets Over sharp swords of adverse facts, As were his brethren of M-Arish, Who Some years ago exhibited — With rapturous applause — At Astley's Amphitheater — • And subsequently At Vauxhall Gardens ! * * * ♦ Clustering, front and back On box and knife-board, See, petty man ; Behold ! and thank thv stars PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. 491 That led thee— Worm— Thee, that art merely a writer And a barrister, Although a man of elegant acquirements, A gentleman and a scholar — Nay, F.E.S. to boot— Into such high society, Among such Swells, And REAL NOBS ! Behold ! ten hve LORDS ! and lo ! no end Of Ex-Cabinet Mmisters I Oh ! happy, happy, happy, Oh, happy Sajvi ! Say, is n't this worth, at the least "rew Tlwusand a Year T ***** And these are all, to day at least — ThyfeUows! Groing to be inade LL.D.s, even as thyself — And thou shalt walk in silk attire. And hob and nob with all the mighty jf the earth , And lunch in Hall — In Hall ! Where lunched before thee, But on inferior grub. That first great Sam — Sam Johnson ! And Laud, and Roger Bacon, And Cranmer, Latimer, And Ridley, And Cyril Jackson — and a iiost besides^ Whom at my leisure I will look up In Wood's '■'■ Athence Oxonienses T Only to think 1 How Blackwood Is honored 1 Alison ! Aytoun 1 ! Bulwer! 1 1 And last, not least 492 PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. The great Sam Gtanderam I I I I Oh Ebony 1 Oh Maga 1 And oh Our noble selves I "A BOOK IN A BUSTLE." A TRUE TALE OF THE WARWICK ASSIZES. BY THE GHOST OT CRABBE. PUNCH. The partial power that to the female race Is charged to apportion gifts of form and grace, With liberal hand molds beauty's curves in one, And to another gives as good as none : But woman still for nature proves a matcti, And grace by her denied, from art will snatch. Hence, great Eliza, grew thy farthingales ; Hence, later Anna, swelled thy hoops' wide pales ; To this we must refer the use of stays ; Nor less the bustle of more modern days. Artful device ! whose imitative pad Into good figures roundeth off the bad — Whether of simple sawdust thou art seen. Or tak'st the guise of costlier crinoline — How oft to thee the female form doth owe A grace rotund, a line of ampler flow. Than flesh and blood thought fit to clothe it with below I There dwelt in Liverpool a worthy dame, Who had a friend — James Taylor was liis name. He dealt in glass, and drove a thriving trade And still saved up the profits that he made, TiU when a daughter blessed his marriage bed, The father in the savings-bank was led In his child's name a small sum to invest, From which he drew the legal interest. PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. 493 Ye&is went and came ; James Taylor came and went; Paid in, and drew, his modest three per cent, Till, by the time his child reach' d girlhood's bounds, The sum had ris'n to two-and-twenty pounds. Our cautious legislature — well 'tis known — Round savings-banks a guardian fence has thrown : 'Tis easy to pay into them, no doubt. Though any thing but easy to draw out. And so James Taylor found ; for on a day He wanted twenty pounds a bill to pay. And, short of cash, unto the bank applied ; Failing some form of law, he was jienied ! James Taylor humm'd and haw'd — look'd blank and b ue ;— In short, James Taylor knew not what to do : BQs creditor was stern — the bill was over due. As to a friend he did his plight deplore — The worthy dame of whom I spoke before — (It might cause pain to give the name she owns, So let me use the pseudonym of Jones) ; " Taylor," said Mrs. Jones, " as I 'm a friend, I do not care if I the money lend. But even friends security should hold : Grive me security — I '11 lend the gold," " This savings-bank deposit-book !" he cries. " See — in my daughter's name the sum that liesl'* She saw — and, satisfied, the money lent ; Wherewith James Taylor went away content. But now what cares seize Mrs. Jones's breast ! What terrors throng her once unbroken rest I Cash she could keep, in many a secret nook — But where to stow away James Taylor's book ? Money is heavy : where 'tis put 't will stay ; Paper — as William Cobbett used to say — Will make wings to itself, and fly away 1 Long she devised : new plans the old ones chase, Untn at last she hit upon a place. Was 't Yenus that the strange concealment plannec- Or rather Plutus's irreverent hand ? 494 PAEODIES AND BURLESQUES. Good Mrs. Jones was of a scraggy make ; But when die woraan vanity forsake ? What nature stern .y to her form denied, A Bustle's ample aid had well supplied, Witliin whose vasty depths the book might safely hide I 'T was thought — 't was done ! by help of ready pin, The sawdust was let out, the book put in. Henceforth — at home — abroad — where'er she moved, Behind her lurk'd the volume that she loved. She laughed to scorn the cut-purse and his sleight : No fear of burglars scared her through the night ; But ah, what shrine is safe from greed of gold, What fort against cupidity can hold? Can stoutest buckram's triple fold keep in, The odor lucri — the strong scent of tin f For which Ohdbb's locks are weak, and Milner's safes are thin. Some time elapsed — the time required by law, Which past, James Taylor might the money draw, His kind but cautious creditor to pay, So to the savings-bank they took their way. There Mrs. Jones with modesty withdrew — To do what no rude eye might see her do — And soon returning — with a blushing look, Unmarked by Taylor, she produced the book. Which he, presenting, did the sum demand Of Mr, Tomkins, the cashier so bland. What can there be upon the red-lined page That ToMKiNs's quick eye should so engage ? What means his invitation to J. T., To " Walk in for a moment" — " he would see" — " Only a moment" — " 't was all right, no doubt," " It could not be" — " and yet" — here he slipped out> Leaving James Taylor grievously perplexed. And Mrs. Jones by his behavior vexed. " What means the man by treating people so ?" Said Taylor, " I am a loss to know." Too soon, alas, the secret cause they knew ! Tomkins return' d, and, with him, one in blue— PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. 495 Policeman X, a stern man and a strong, Who told James Taylor he must " come along" — And ToMKiNS, seeing Mrs. Jones aghast, Eevealed the book was forged — from first to last I Who can describe the wrath of Mrs. Jones ? The chill of fear that crept through Taylor's bones ? The van — the hand-cuffs — and the prison cell Where pined James Taylor — wherefore pause to tell ? Soon came the Assizes — and the legal train ; In form the clerk James Taylor did arraign ; And though his council mustered tears at will, And made black white with true Old Bailey skill, Taylor, though Mrs. Jones for mercy sued, Was doomed to five years' penal servitude ; And in a yellow suit turned up with gray, To Portland prison was conveyed away I Time passed : forgot James Taylor and his shame — When lo — one day unto the bank there came A new James Taylor — a new Mrs. Jones — And a new book, which Tomkins genuine owns ! " Two Taylors and two Joneses and two books" — Thought wary Tomkins, " this suspicious looks — '' The former Taylor, former Jones I knew — These are imposters — ^yet the book is true !" When like a flash upon his mind it burst — Who brought the second book had forged the first I Again was summon'd X, the stern, the strong — Again that pair were bid to " Come along !" The truth before the justices appear'd, And wrong'd James Taylor's character was clear' d. In evil hour — by what chance ne'er was known. Whether the bustle's seam had come unsewn. Or Mrs. Jones by chance had laid aside The artificial charms that decked her side — But so it was, how or whene'er assailed — The treacherous hiding-place was tried — and failed 1 The book was ta'en — a forged one fill'd its place ; — And Mrs. Jones was robb'd — not to her face — And poor James Taylor doom'd to trial and disgrace ! *96 PARODIES AND BCELESQUES. Who shall describe her anguish — her remorse ? James Taylor was at once released, of course ; And Mrs. Jones, repentant, inly swore Henceforth to carry, what she'd keep, before. My tale is told — and, what is more, 'tis true : I read it in the papers — so may you. And this its moral : Mrs. Joneses all — Though reticules may drop, and purses fall, Though thieves may unprotected females hustle, Never invest your money in a bustle. :JTANZAS FOR THE SENTIMENTAL. PUNCH. I. ON A TEAR WHICH ANGELINA OBSERVED TRICKLING DOWN MY NOSE AT DINNER TIME. Nay, fond one ! I will ne'er reveal Whence flowed that sudden tear : The truth 't were kindness to conceal From thy too anxious ear. How often when some hidden spring Of recollected grief Is rudely touched, a tear wUl bring The bursting breast relief! Yet 't was no anguish of the souL No memory of woes. Bade that one lonely tearlet roll Adown my chiseled nose : But, ah ! interrogation's note Still twinkles in thine eye ; Know then that I have burnt my throat With this confounded pie ! PARODIES AND BURLESQUES 497 II. ON MY REFUSING ANGELINA A KISS UNDER THE MISLETOR Nay, fond one, shun that misletoe, Nor lure me 'neath its fatal bough : Some other night 't were joy to go, But ah ! I must not, dare not now 1 'Tis sad, I own, to see thy face Thus tempt me with its giggling glee, And feel I can not now embrace The opportunity — and thee. 'Tis sad to think that jealousy's Sharp scissors may our true love sever ; And that my coldness now may freeze Thy warm affection, love, forever. But ah ! to disappoint our bHss, A fatal hind'rance now is stuck : 'Tis not that I am loath to kiss, But, dearest, list — / dined off duck! III. ON MT FINDING ANGELINA STOP SUDDENLY IN A RAPID AFTER-SUF- PER POLKA AT MRS. TOMPKINS's BALL. Edwin. " Maiden, why that look of sadness ? Whence that dark o'erclouded brow ? Wliat hath stilled thy bounding gladness, Changed thy pace from fast to slow ? Is it that by impulse sudden Childhood's hours thou paus'st to mourn ? Or hath thy cruel Ed-win trodden Right upon thy favorite corn ? " Is it that for evenings wasted Some remorse thou 'gin'st to feel ? Or hath that sham champagne we tasted Turned thy polka to a reel ? StOl that gloom upon each feature ? Still that sad reproacliful frown ?" Angelina. " Can't you see, you clumsy creature, All my back hair's coming down 1" 498 PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. COLLOQUY ON A CAB-STAND. ADAPTED FOR THE BOUDOIR. PUNCH. " Oh ! William," James was heard to say — James drove a hackney cabriolet : William, the horses of liis friend, With hay and water used to tend. " Now, tell me, William, can it be, That Mayne has issued a decree, Severe and stern, against us, planned Of comfort to deprive our Stand ?" " I fear the tale is all too true," Said William, " on my word I do." " Are we restricted to the Row And from the footpath ?" " Even so." " Must our companions be resigned, We to the Rank alone confined ?" " Yes ; or they apprehend the lads Denominated Bucks and Cads." " Dear me 1" cried James, "how very hardl And are we, too, from beer debarred ?" Said William, " Wliile remaining here We also are forbidden beer." " Nor may we breathe the fragrant weed ?" " That 's interdicted too." " Indeed 1" " Nor in the purifying wave Must we our steeds or chariots lave." " For private drivers, at request, It is Sir Richard Mayne's behest That we shall move, I understand ?" " Such, I beheve, is the command " " Of all remains of food and drink Left by our animals I think, PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. 499 We are required to clear the ground ?" " Yes : to remove them we are bound." " These mandates should we disobey — " "' They take our licenses away." " That were unkind. How harsh our lot 1" " It is mdeed." " Now is it not ?" " Thus strictly why are we pursued ?" " It is alleged that we are rude ; The people opposite complain, Our Ups that coarse expressions stain." " Law, how absurd !" " And then, they say We smoke and tipple all the day, Are oft in an excited state. Disturbance, noise, and dirt create." " What shocking stories people tell 1 I never ! Did you ever ? — Well — Bless them I" the Cabman mildly sighed. " May they be blest!" his Fri-^md replied. THE SONG OF HIAWATHA. AN ENGLISH CRITICISM PUNCH. You, who hold in grace and h^ijor, Hold, as one who did you kindness When he publish' d former poems^ Sang Evangeline the noble. Sang the golden Golden Legend, Sang the songs the Voices utter Crying in the night and darkness, Sang how unto the Red Planet Mars he gave the Night's First W&ttf\e<\ Henry Wadsworth, whose adnomen (Coming awkward, for the accents, 600 PARODIES AND BUKLESQTJE8. Into this his latest rhythm) Write we as Protracted Fellow, Or in Latin, Longus Comes — Buy the Song of Hiawatha. Should you ask me, Is the poem Worthy of its predecessors. Worthy of the sweet conception. Of the manly nervous diction, Of the phrase, concise or pliant, Of the songs that sped the pulses. Of the songs that gemm'd the eyelash, Of the other works of Henry ? I should answer, I should tell you, You may wish that you may get it — Don't you wish that you may get it ? Should you ask me, Is it worthless, Is it bosh and is it bunkum, Merely facile flowing nonsense. Easy to a practiced rhythmist. Fit to charm a private circle, But not worth the print and paper David Bogue hath here expended ? I should answer, I should tell you. You 're a fool and most presumptuous. Hath not Henry Wadsworth writ it ? Hath not Punch commanded " Buy it T' Should you ask me, What 's its nature ? Ask me. What 's the kind of poem ? Ask me in respectful language, Touching your respectful beaver. Kicking back your manly hind-leg, Like to one who sees his betters ; I should answer, I should tell you, 'Tis a poem in this meter, And embalming the traditions, Fables, rites, and superstitions, Legends, charms, and ceremonials Of the various tribes of Indians, PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. 601 From the land of tlie Ojibways, From the land of the Dacotahs, From the mountains, moors, and fenlands, Where the heron, the Shuh-shuh-gah, Finds its sugar in the rushes : From the fast-decaying nations, Which our gentle Uncle Samuel Is improving, very smartly, From the face of all creation, Off the fa^'' of all creation. Should you ask me, By what story, By what action, plot, or fiction. All these matters are connected ? I should' answer, I should tell you, Go to Bogue and buy the poem, Pubhsh'd neatly, at one shilling, PubMsh'd sweetly, at five shiUings. Should you ask me, Is there music In the structure of the verses. In the names and in the phrases ? Pleading that, like weaver Bottom, You prefer your ears well tickled ; I should answer, I should tell you, Henry's verse is very charming ; And for names — there 's Hiawatha, Who 's the hero of the poem ; Mudjeekeewis, that 's the West Wind, Hiawatha's graceless father ; There 's Nokomis, there 's Wenonah — Ladies both, of various merit ; Puggawangum, that 's a war-club ; Pau-puk-keewis, he 's a dandy, "Barr'd with streaks of red and yellow; And the women and the maidens Love the handsome Pau-puk-keewis," Tracing in him Fundi s hkeness. Then there 's lovely Minnehaha — Pretty name with pretty meaning — It implies the Laugliing- water ; And the dariing Minnehaha Married noble Hiawatha ; 602 l^AEODIES AND BURLESQUE ft, And her stoiy 's far too toucliing To be sport for you, you donkey, With your ears like weaver Bottom's, Ears like booby Bully Bottom. Once upon a time in London, In the days of the Lyceum, Ages ere keen Arnold let it To the dreadful Northern Wizard, Ages ere the buoyant Mathews Tripp'd upon its boards in briskness — I remember, I remember How a scribe, with pen chivalrous, Tried to save these Indian stories From the fate of chill obhvion. Out came sundry comic Indians Of the tribe of Kut-an-hack-um. With their Chief, the clean Efmatthews, With the growling Downy Beaver, With the valiant Monkey's Uncle, Came the gracious Mari-Kee-lee, Firing off a pocket-pistol. Singing, too, that. Mudjee-keewis (Shorten'd in the song to "Wild Wind,") Was a spirit very kindly. Came her Sire, the joyous Kee-lee, By the waning tribe adopted, Named the Buffalo, and wedded To the fairest of the maidens, But repented of his bargain. And his brother Kut-an-hack-ums Very nearly chopp'd his toes off — Serve him right, the fickle Kee-lee. If you ask me. What this memory Hath to do with Hiawatha, And the poem wliich I speak of? I should answer, I should tell you, You 're a fool, and most presumptuous ; 'Tis not for such humble cattle To inquire what links and unions Join the thoughts, and mystic meaninga, Of their betters, mighty poets, PARODIES AND BUKLESQUES. 503 Mighty writers — Punch the mightiest; I should answer, I should tell you, Shut your mouth, and go to David, David, Mr. Punch's neighbor, Buy the Song of Hiawatha, Read, and learn, and then be thankful Unto Punch and Henry Wadsworth, Pun^h and noble Henry Wadsworth, Truer poet, better fellow, Than to be annoyed at jesting, From his friend, great Punch, who loves him. COMFORT IN AFFLICTION. WILLIAM AYTOUXt " Wherefore starts my bosom's lord ? Why this anguish in thine eye ? Oh, it seems as thy heart's chord Had broken with that sigh ! " Rest thee, my dear lord, I pray, Rest thee on my bosom now ! And let me wipe the dews away, Are gathering on thy brow. "There, again ! that fevered start! What, love! husband! is thy pam? There is a sorrow in thy heart, A weight upon thy brain ! " Nay, nay, that sickly smile can ne'ei Deceive affection's searching eye ; 'Tis a wife's duty, love, to share Her husband's agony. " Since the dawn began to peep, Have I lain with stifled breath ; Heard thee moaning in thy sleep, As thou wert at grips with death. 604 PARODIES AND BURLESQUES, " Oh, what joy it was to see My gentle lord once more awake I Tell me, what is amiss with thee ? Speak, or my heart will break !" " Mary, thou angel of my life, Thou ever good and kind ; 'Tis not, believe me, my dear wife, The anguish of the mind ! " It is not in my bosom, dear, No, nor my brain, in sooth ; But Mary, oh, I feel it here. Here in my wisdom tooth I " Then give, — oh, first, best antidote, — Sweet partner of my bed ! Grive me thy flannel petticoat To wrap around my head I" THE HUSBAND'S PETITION. WHiIJAM AYTOUN. Come hither, my heart's darling, Come, sit upon my knee. And hsten, while I whisper, A boon I ask of thee. You need not puU my whiskers So amorously, my dove ; 'Tis something quite apart fi-om The gentle cares of love. I feel a bitter craving — A dark and deep desire, That glows beneath my bosom Like coals of kindled fire. The passion of the nightingale, When singing to the rose, Is feebler than the agony That murders my repose I PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. 505 Nay, dearest ! do not doubt me, Tlaough madly thus I speak — I feel thy arms about me, • Thy tresses on my cheek : I know the sweet devotion That links thy heart with mine — I know my soul's emotion Is doubly felt by thine : And deem not that a shadow Hath fallen across my love : No, sweet, my love is shadowless, As yonder heaven above. These httle taper fingers — Ah I Jane, how white they be I — Can well supply the cruel want That almost maddens me. Thou wilt not sure deny me My first and fond request ; I pray thee, by the memory Of all we cherish best — By all the dear remembrance Of those delicicious days, When, hand in hand, we wandered Along the summer braes : By all we felt, unspoken. When 'neath the early moon, We sat beside the rivulet. In the leafy month of June ; And by the broken whisper, That fell upon my ear. More sweet than angel-music, When first I woo'd thee, dear I By that great vow which bound thee Forever to my side. And by the rmg that made thee My darling and my bride I 22 .^00 PARODIES AND BUBLESQUES. Thou wilt not fail nor falter, But bend thee to the task — A BOILED sheep's HEAD ON SuNDAT Is all the boon I ask. THE BITER BIT. WILLIAM ATTOUN. The sun is in the sky, mother, the flowers are springing fair, And the melody of woodland birds is stirring in the air ; The river, smiling to the sky, glides onward to the sea. And happiness is everywhere, oh, mother, but with me I They are going to the church, mother — I hear the marriage bell ; It booms along the upland — oh ! it haunts me like a knell ; He leads her on his arm, mother, he cheers her faltering step, And closely to his side she clings — she does, the demirep ! They are crossing by the stile, mother, where we so oft have stood, The stile beside the shady thorn, at the corner of the wood ; And the boughs, that wont to murmur back the words that won my ear. Wave theu' silver branches o'er him, as he leads his bridal fere. He will pass beside the stream, mother, where first my hand he pressed. By the meadow where, with quivering lip, his passion he confessed ; And down the hedgerows where we 've strayed again and yet again ; But he will not think of me, mother, his broken-hearted Jane I He said that I was proud, mother, that I looked for rank and gold, He said I did not love him — ^lie said my words were cold ; He said I kept him off and on, in hopes of liigher game — And it may be that I did, mother ; but who has n't done the same ? I did not know my heart, mother — I know it now too late ; I thought that I without a pang could wed some nobler mate ; But no nobler suitor sought me — and he has taken wing. And my heart is gone, and I am left a lone and bhghted thing. TARODIES AND BURLESQUES. 507 You may lay me in my bed, mother — my bead is throbbing sore ; And, mother, prithee, let the sheets be duly aired before ; And, if you 'd please, my mother dear, your poor desponding chHd, Draw me a pot of beer, mother, and, mother, draw it mild 1 A MIDNIGHT MEDITATION WILLIAM AYTOUN. Fill me once more the foaming pewter up I Another board of oysters, ladye mine ! To-night LucuUus with himself shall sup. These mute inglorious Miltons are divine ; And as I here in slippered ease recline, Quafi&ng of Perkins' Entire my fill, I sigh not for the lymph of Aganippe's rill. A nobler inspii-ation fires my brain. Caught from Old England's fine time-hallowed drinK , I snatch the pot again and yet again. And as the foaming fluids shrink and shrink. Fill me once more, I say, up to the brink ! This makes strong hearts — strong heads attest its charm — This nerves the might that sleeps in Britain's brawny arm 1 But these remarks are neither here nor there. Where was I ? Oh, I see — old Southey 's dead ! They '11 want some bard to fill the vacant chair. And drain the annual butt — and oh, what head More fit with laurel to be garlanded Than tliis, which, curled in many a fragrant coil, Breathes of Castalia's streams, and best Macassar oil ? I know a grace is seated on my brow. Like young Apollo's with his golden beams ; There should Apollo's bays be budding now : And in my flashing eyes the radiance beams That marks the poet in his waking dreams, 508 PAKODIES AND BURLESQUES. When as his fancies cluster thick and thicker, He feels the trance divine of poesy and hquor. They throng around me now, those things of air, That from my fancy took their being's stamp : There Pelham sits and twirls his glossy hair, There Chfford leads his pals upon the tramp j Their pale Zanoni, bending o'er his lamp, Roams through the starry wilderness of thought, Where all is every thing, and every thing is naught. Yes, I am he, who sung how Aram won The gentle ear of pensive Madeline ! How love and murder hand in hand may run, Cemented by philosophy serene, And kisses bless the spot where gore has been ! Who breathed the melting sentiment of crime. And for the assassin waked a sympathy subhme I Yes, I am he, who on the novel shed Obscure philosophy's enchanting light ! CntU the pubhc, wildered as they read. Believed they saw that which was not in sight — Of course 't was not for me to set them right ; For in my nether heart convinced I am, Philosophy 's as good as any other bam. Novels three-volumed I shall write no more — Somf^how or other now they will not sell ; And to invent new passions is a bore — I find the Magazines pay quite as well. Translating 's simple, too, as I can tell, Who 've hawked at Schiller on his lyric throne. And given the astonished bard a meaning all my own. Moore, Campbell, Wordsworth, their best days are grassed ; Battered and broken are their early lyres, Rogers, a pleasant memory of the past, Warmed his young hands at Smithfield's martyr fires, And, worth a plum, nor bays, nor butt desires. But these are things would suit me to the letter. For though this Stout is good, old Sherry's greatly better. PARODIES AND BUKLESQUES. 509 A fico for your small poetic ravers, Your Hunts, your Tennysons, your Milnes, and these ! Shall they compete with him who wrote " Maltravers," Prologue to " Alice or the Mysteries ?" No I Even now, my glance projihetic sees My own high brow girt with the bays about What ho, within there, ho ! another pint of Stout 1 THE DIRGE OF THE DRINKEK. BY W E A , ESQ. WILLIAM ATTOUN. Brothers, spare awhile your liquor, lay your final tumbler down; He has dropp'd — that star of honor — on the field of his renown ! Raise the wail, but raise it softly, lowly bending on your knees, If you find it more convenient, you may hiccup if you please. Sons of Pantagruel, gently let your hip-hurraing sink, Be your manly accents clouded, half with sorrow, half with drink I Lightly to the sofa pillow lift his head from off the floor ; See. how calm he sleeps, unconscious as the deadest nail in door 1 Widely o'er the earth I've wander'd; where the drink moai freely flow'd, I nave ever reel'd the foremost, foremost to the beaker strode. Deep in shady Cider Cellars I have dream'd o'er heavy wet, By the fountains of Damascus I have quaff 'd the rich Sherbet, Regal Montepulciano drained beneath its native rock. On Johannis' sunny mountain frequent hiccup'd o'er my hock ; I have bathed in butts of Xeres deeper than did e'er Monsoon, Sangaree'd with bearded Tartars in the Mountains of the Moon ; In beer-swilling Copenhagen I have drunk your Danesman bhnd, I have kept my feet in Jena, when each bursch to earth de- chned ; Grlass for glass, in fierce Jamaica, I have shared the planter's rum. Drank with Highland dhuinie-wassels, till each gibbering Gael grew dumb ; But a stouter, bolder drinker — one that loved his Uquor more — Never yet did I encounter than our friend upon the floor 1 510 PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. Yet the best of us are moi tal, we to weakness all are heir, He has fallen, who rarely S' tagger' d — let the rest of us beware! We shall leave him, as we found him — lying where his manhood fell, 'Mong the trophies of the revel, for he took his tipple well. Better 't were we loosed his neckcloth, laid his throat and bosom bare, Pulled his Hobies oiEF, and turn'd his toes to taste the breezy air. Throw the sofa cover o'er him, dim the flaring of the gas, Calmly, calmly let him slumber, and, as by the bar we pass, We shall bid that thoughtful waiter place beside him, near and handy, Large supplies of soda water, tumblers bottomed well with brandy. So when waking, he shall drain them, with that deathless thirst of his, Clinging to the hand that smote him, hke a good 'un as he is I FRANCESCA DA RIMINI. TO BON GAULTIER. WILLIAM AYTOUN. Abotiment. — An impassioned pupil of Leigh Hunt, having met Bon Gaultier at a Fancy Ball, declares the destructive consequences thus : Didst thou not praise me, G-aultier, at the ball, Ripe lips, trim boddice, and a waist so small, With clipsome hghtness, dwindling ever less. Beneath the robe of pea-y greenincss ! Dost thou remember, when with stately prance. Our heads went crosswise in the country dance; How soft, warm fingers, tipp'd like buds of balm, Trembled within the squeezing of thy palm ; And how a cheek grew flush'd and peachy-wise At the frank hfting of thy cordial eyes ? Ah, me ! that night there was one gentle thing. Who like a dove, with its scarce-feather'd wing, Flutter'd at the approach of thy quaint swaggering I There 's wont to be, at conscious times like these, An affectation of a bright-eyed ease — PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. 51J A crispy-cheekiness, if so I dare Describe the swaling of a jaunty air ; And thas, when swirhng from the waltz's wheel, You era ved my hand to grace the next quadrille. That smiling voice, although it made me start, Boil'd in the meek o'erlifting of my heart ; And, picking at my flowers, I said with free And usual tone, " Oh yes, sir, certainly !" Like one that swoons, 'twixt sweet amaze and fear, I heard the music burning in my ear. And felt I cared not, so thou wert witli me, If Gurth or Wamba were our vis- .-vis. So, when a tall Knight Templar ringing came. And took his place against us with his dame, I neither turned away, nor bashful shrunk From the stern survey of the soldier-monk, Though rather more than full three-quarters drunk ; But threading through the figure, first in rule, I paused to see thee plunge into La Poule. Ah, what a sight was that ? Not prurient Mars, Pointing his toe through ten celestial bars — Not young Apollo, beamily array'd In tripsome guise for Juno's masquerade — Not smartest Hermes, with his pinion girth, Jerking with freaks and snatches down to earth, Look'd half so bold, so beautiful and strong, As thou when pranking thro' the glittering throng/ How the calm'd ladies looked with eyes of love On thy trim velvet doublet laced above ; The hem of gold, that, like a wavy river, Flowed down into thy back with glancing shiver 1 So bare was thy fine throat, and curls of black So lightsomely dropp'd on thy lordly back, So crisply swaled the feather in thy bonnet, So glanced thy thigh, and spanning palm upon it. That my weak soul took instant flight to thee, Lost in the fondest gush of that sweet witchery I But when the dance was o'er, and arm in arm CThe full heart beating 'gainst the elbow warm), 512 PAKODIES AND BURLESQUES. We pass'd to the great refreshment hall, Where the heap'd cheese-cakes and the comfits small Lay, like a hive of sunbeams, to burn Around the margin of the negus urn ; When my poor quivering hand you finger'd twice, And, with inquiring accents, whisper'd " Ice, Water, or cream ?" I could no more dissemble, But dropp'd upon the couch all in a tremble. A swimming faintness misted o'er my brain, The corks seem'd starting from the brisk champagne, The custards fell untouch'd upon the floor, Thine eyes met mine. That night we danced no more ! LOUIS NAPOLEON'S ADDRESS TO HIS ARMY. WILLIAM AYTOUN. Guards ! who at Smolensko fled — No — I beg your pardon — bled ! For my Uncle blood you 've shed, Do the same for me. Now 's the day and now 's the hour. Heads to spht and streets to scour ; Strike for rank, promotion, power, Sawg, and eau de vie. Who 's afraid a child to kill ? Who respects a shopman's till ? Who would pay a tailor's bill ? Let him turn and flee. Who would burst a goldsmith's door, Shoot a dun, or sack a store ? Let him arm, and go before — That is, follow me 1 Up the barricades have piled ; In among them, man and child, Unrelentingly 1 PARODIES AIsTD BURLESQUES. 513 Shoot the men ! there 's scarcely one In a dozen 's got a gun : Stop them, if they try to run, With artillery I Shoot the boys ! each one may grow Into — of the state — a foe (Meaning by the state, you know, My supremacy !) Shoot the girls and women old ! Those may bear us traitors bold — These may be inclined to scold Our severity. Sweep the streets of all who may Eashly venture in the way, Warning for a future day Satisfactory. Then, when still' d is ev'ry voice. We, the nation's darhng choice, Calling on them to rejoice, Tell them, France is Free. THE BATTLE OF THE BOULEVARD. VriLLIAM AYTOUN. On Paris, when the sun was low, The gay " Comique" made goodly show, Hdbituts crowding every row To hear Limnandier's opera. But Paris showed another sight. When, mustering in the dead of night, Her masters stood, at morning hght, The crack chasseurs of Africa. By servants in my pay betrayed, Cavaignac, then, my prisoner made, Wrote that a circumstance delayed His marriage rite and revehy. 22* 514 PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. Then shook small Thiers, with terror riven ; Then stormed Bedeau, while gaol- ward driven ; And, swearing (not alone by Heaven), Was seized bold Lamorici^re. But louder rose the voice of woe When soldiers sacked each cit's dep6t, And tearing down a helpless foe, Flashed Magnan's red artillery. More, more arrests I Changarnier brave Is dragged to prison like a knave : No time allowed the swell to shave, Or use the least perfumery. 'Tis morn, and now Hortense's son (Perchance her spouse's too) has won The imperial crown. The French are done, Chawed up most incontestably. Few, few shall write, and none shall meet ; Suppressed shall be each journal-sheet ; And every serf beneath my feet Shall hail the soldier's Emperor. PUFFS POETICAL. WILLIAM AYTOUN. I. PARIS AND HELEN. As the youthful Paris presses Helen to his ivory breast. Sporting with her golden tresses. Close and ever closer pressed. He said : " So let me quaff the nectar, Wliich thy lips of ruby yield ; Grlory I can leave to Hector, Gathered in the tented field. PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. 515 " Let me ever gaze upon thee, Look into thine eyes so deep ; With a daring hand I won thee, With a faithful heart I '11 keep. " Oh, my Helen, thou bright wonder, Who was ever hke to thee ? Jove would lay aside his thunder, So he might be blest hke me. " How mine eyes so fondly hnger On thy soft and pearly skin ; Scan each round and rosy finger, Drinking draughts of beauty in I " Tell me, whence thy beauty, fairest I Whence thy cheek's enchanting bloom? Whence the rosy hue thou wearest. Breathing round thee rich perfume ?" Thus he spoke, with heart that panted, Clasped her fondly to his side. Gazed on her with look enchanted, While his Helen thus repHed : " Be no discord, love, between us, If I not the secret tell ! 'Twas a gift I had of Venus, — Venus who hath loved me welL " And she told me as she gave it, ' Let not e'er the charm be known, O'er tliy person freely lave it. Only when thou art alone.' " 'Tis inclosed in yonder casket — Here behold its golden key ; But its name — love, do not ask it, Tell 't I may not, e'en to thee I" Long with vow and kiss he plied her, Still the secret did she keep. Till at length he sank beside her. Seemed as he had dropped to sleep. 516 PARODIES AND BURLESQUES, Soon was Helen laid in slumber, When her Paris, rising slow. Did his fair neck disencumber From her rounded arms of snow ; Then her heedless fingers oping. Takes the key and steals away, To the ebon table groping, Where the wondrous casket lay ; Eagerly the hd uncloses. Sees within it, laid aslope, Pear's Liquid Bloom of Roses, Cakes of his Transparent Soap! n. TAEQUIN AND THE AUGUR. Gingerly is good King Tarquin shaving, G-ently ghdes the razor o'er his chin, Near him stands a grim Haruspex raving, And with nasal whine he pitches in. Church Extension hints, Till the monarch squints, Snicks his chin, and swears — a deadly sin I " Jove confound thee, thou bare-legged impostor '. From my dressing table get thee gone 1 Dost thou think my flesh is double Glo'ster ? There again ! That cut was to the bone I Get ye from my sight ; I 'n believe you're right When my razor cuts the sharprug hone I" Thus spoke Tarquin with a deal of dryness ; But the Augur, eager for his fees. Answered — "Try it, your Imperial Highness, Press a httle harder, if you please. There ! the deed is done 1" Through the soUd stone Went the steel as glibly as through cheese. PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. 617 So the Augur touclied the tin of Tarquin, Who suspected some celestial aid : But he wronged the blameless G-ods ; for hearken 1 Ere the monarch's bet was rashly laid, With his searching eye Did the priest espy Eodger's name engraved upon the blade. REFLECTIONS OF A PRr^TTD PEDESTRIAN. OLrVER WENDELL HOLMES. I SAW the curl of his waving lash, And the glance of his knowing eye, And I knew that he thought he was cutting a dash, As his steed went thundering by. And he may ride in the rattling gig, Or flourish the Stanhope gay, And dream that he looks exceeding big To the people that walk in the way ; But he shall think, when the night is stiU, On the stable-boy's gathering numbers, And the ghost of many a veteran bill Shall hover around his slumbers ; The ghastly dun shall worry his sleep, And constables cluster around him, And he shall creep from the wood-hole deep Where their specter eyes have found him I Ay I gather your reins, and crack your thong, And bid your steed go faster ; He does not know as he scrambles along, That he has a fool for his master ; And hurry away on your lonely ride, Nor deign from the mire to save me ; I will paddle it stoutly at your side With the tandem that nature gave me I 618 PARODIES AND BURLESQUES, EVENING. BY A TAILOR. OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. Day hath put on his jacket, and around His burning bosom buttoned it with stars. Here will I lay me on the velvet grass, That is like padding to earth's meager ribs, And hold communion with the things about me. Ah me I how lovely is the golden braid, That binds the skirt of night's descending robe 1 The tliin leaves, quivering on their silken threads, Do make a music hke to rustUng satin, As the light breezes smooth their downy nap. Ha ! what is this that rises to my touch, So like a cushion ? Can it be a cabbage ? It is, it is that deeply injured flower, Which boys do flout us with ; — but yet I love thee, Thou giant rose, wrapped in a green surtout. Doubtless in Eden thou didst blush as bright As these, thy puny brethren; and thy breath Sweetened the fragrance of her spicy air ; But now thou seemest like a bankrupt beau. Stripped of his gaudy hues and essences. And growing portly in his sober garments. Is that a swan that rides upon the water ? no, it is that other gentle bird, Which is the patron of our noble caUing. 1 well remember, in my early years, When these young hands first closed upon a goose ' I have a scar upon my thimble finger, Which chronicles the hou of youug ambitiaz My father was a tailor, and his father, And my sire's grandsire, all of them were tailors ; They had an ancient goose, — it was an heir-loom From some remoter tailor of our race. It happened I did see it on a time When none was near, and I did deal with it, And it did burn me, — oh, most fearfiilly I PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. 519 It is a joy to straighten out one's limbs, And leap elastic from the level counter, Leaving the petty grievances of earth, The breaking thread, the din of clashing shears, And all the needles that do wound the spuit, For such a pensiva hour of soothing silence. Kind Nature, shuffling in her loose undress, Lays bare her shady bosom ; I can feel With all around me ; — I can hail the flowers That sprig earth's mantle, — and yon quiet bird, That rides the stream, is to me as a brother. The vulgar know not all the hidden pockets. Where Nature stows away her loveliness. But this unnatural posture of my legs Cramps my extended calves, and I must go Where I can coil them in their wonted fashion. PHAETHON; THE AMATEUR COACHMAN. JOHN G. SAXB. Dan Phaethon — so the histories run — Was a jolly young chap, and a son of the Sun ; Or rather of Phcebus — but as to his mother, Q-enealogists make a deuce of a pother. Some going for one, and some for another 1 For myself, I must say, as a carefol explorer. This roaring young blade was the son of Auroea I Now old Father Phcebus, ere railways begun To elevate funds and depreciate fun. Drove a very fast coach by the name o^ "The Sun;* Punning, they say, Trips every day (On Sundays and aU, in a heathemsti way). And lighted up with a famous array Of lanterns that shone with a brilHant display, And dashing along hke a gentleman's " shay." With never a fare, and nothing to pay I 520 PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. Now Phaethon begged of his doting old father, To grant him a favor, and this the rather, Since some one had hinted, the youth to annoy, That he was n't by any means Phcebus's boy ! Intending, the rascally son of a gun. To darken the brow of the son> of the Sun ! " By the terrible Styx I" said the angry sire, While his eyes flashed volumes of fury and fire, " To prove your reviler an infamous Har, I swear I will grant you whate'er you desire 1" '' Then by my head," The youngster said, " 1 'U mount the coach when the horses are fed I--- For there 's nothing I 'd choose, as I 'm alive, Like a seat on the box, and a dashing drive 1" "Way, Phaethon, don't — I beg you won't — Just stop a moment and think upon 't ! You 're quite too young," continued the sage, " To tend a coach at your tender age 1 Besides, you see, 'T will really be Y )ur first appearance on any stage ! Desist, my child. The cattle are wild. And when their mettle is thoroughly ' riled,' Depend upon 't, the coach 'U be ' spHed' — They 're not the fellows to draw it mild I Desist, I say. You '11 rue the day — So mind, and don't be foolish, Pha !" But the youth was proud, And swore aloud, *T was just the thing to astonish the crowd — He 'd have the horses and would n't be cowed ! In vain the boy was cautioned at large. He called for the chargers, unheeding the charge, And vowed that any young fellow of force, Could manage a dozen coursers, of course ! Now Phcebus felt exceedingly sorry He had given his word in such a hurry, But having sworn by the Styx, no doubt He was in for it now, and could n't back out. PARODIES A.ND BURLESQUES. 521 Sro calling Phaethon up in a trice, He gave the youth a bit of advice : — " '■Parce sUmulis^ utere loris /' (A " stage direction," of wliich the core is, Don't use the whip — they 're ticklish things — But, whatever you do, hold on to the strings !) Eemember the rule of the Jehu-tribe is, * Medio tutissimus ibis' (As the Judge remarked to a rowdy Scotchman, Who was going to quod between two watchmen !) So ipind your eye, and spare your goad, Be shy of the stones, and keep in the road !" Now Phaethon, perched in the coachman's place, Drove off the steeds at a farious pace, Fast as coursers running a race. Or bounding along in a steeple-chase ! Of whip and shout there was no lack, " Crack — whack — Whack — crack' ' Eesounded along the horses' back ! — Frightened beneath the stinging lash, Cutting their flanks in many a gash. On — on they sped as swift as a flash. Through thick and thin away they dash, (Such rapid driving is always rash !) When all at once, with a dreadful crash, The whole " establishment" went to smash I And Phaethon, he, As aU agree, Off the coach was suddenly hurled. Into a puddle, and out of the world 1 MORAL. Don't rashly take to dangerous courses — Nor set it down in your table of forces, That any one man equals any four horses I Don't swear by the Styx ! — It's one of Old Nick's Diabolical tricks To get people into a regular " fix," And hold 'em there as fast as bricks I 522 PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. THE SCHOOL-HOUSE. [after goldsmith.] james russell lowelli Propt on the marsh, a dwelling now, I see The humble school-house of my A, B, C, Where well-drilled urchins, each behind his tire, Waited in ranks the wished command to fire, Then all together, when the signal came, Discharged their a-h ahs against the dame. Who, 'mid the volleyed learning, firm and calm. Patted the fiirloughed ferule on her palm, And, to our wonder, could detect at once Who flashed the pan, and who was downright dunce There young Devotion learned to climb with ease The gnarly hmbs of Scripture family-trees. And he was most commended and admired Who soonest to the topmost twig perspired ; Each name was called as many various ways As pleased the reader's ear on different days, So that the weather, or the ferule's stings. Colds in the head, or fifty other tilings, Transformed the helpless Hebrew thrice a week To juttural Pequot or resounding Grreek, The vibrant accent skipping here and there Just as it pleased invention or despair ; No controversial Hebraist was the Dame ; With or without the pointe pleased her the same ; If any tyro found a name too tough, And looked at her, pride furnished skill enough ; She nerved her larynx for the desperate thing. And cleared the five-barred syllables at a spring. Ah, dear old times ! there once it was my hap. Perched on a stool, to wear the 'ong-eared cap : From books degraded, there I sat at ease, A drone, the envy of compulsory bees. EPIGRAMMATIC. EPIGRAMMATIC EPIGRAMS OF BEN JONSON. TO FINE GRAND. What is 't Fine G-rand, makes thee my friendship fly, Or take an Epigram so fearfully, As 't were a challenge, or a borrower's letter ? The world must know your greatness is my debtor. Imprimis^ Grand, you owe me for a jest I lent you, on mere acquaintance, at a feast. Item^ a tale or two some fortnight after, That yet maintains you, and your house in laughter. Item, the Babylonian song you sing ; lUm^ a fair Greek poesy for a ring. With which a learned madam you bely. Item, a charm surrounding fearfuUy Your partie-per-pale picture, one half drawn In solemn Cyprus, th' other cobweb lawn. Item, a guUing impress for you, at tilt. Item, your mistress' anagram, in your hilt. Item, your own, sew'd in your mistress' smock. Item, an epitaph on my lord's cock, In most vUe verses, and cost me more pain, Than had I made 'em good, to fit your vein. Forty things more, dear Grand, which you know Irue, For which, or pay me quickly, or I '11 pay you. TO BRAINHARDT. Hardy, thy brain is valiant, 'tis confest. Thou more ; that with it every day dar'st jest 526 EPIGRAMMATIC. Thyself into fresli brawls ; when call'd upon, Scarce thy week's swearing brings thee off of one j So in short time, thou art in arrearage grown Some hundred quarrels, yet dost thou fight none ; Nor noed'st thou ; for those few, by oath released, Make good what thou dar'st in all the rest. Keep thyself there, and think thy valor right ; He that dares damn himself, dares more than fight TO DOCTOR EMPIRIC. When men a dangerous disease did 'scape, Of old, they gave a cock to ^sculape ; Let me give two, that doubly am got free ; From my disease's danger, and from thee. TO SIR ANNUAL FILTER. Filter, the most may admire thee, though not I ; And thou, right guiltless, may'st plead to it, why ? For thy late sharp device. I say 'tis fit All brains, at times of triumph, should run wit ; For then our water-conduits do run wine ; But that 's put in, thou 'It say. Why, so is thine. ON BANKS THE USURER. Banks feels no lameness of his knotty gout, His moneys travel for him in and out. And though the soundest legs go every day, He toils to be at hell, as soon as they. ON CHETRIL THE LAWYER. No cause, nor client fat, will Cheveril leese, But as they come, on both sides he takes fees, And pleaseth both ; for while he melts his grease For this ; that wins, for whom he holds his peace. EPIGRAMMATIC. 527 EPIGRAM ATIC VERSES BY SAMUEL 13JTLER OPINION. Opinion governs all mankind, Like the blind's leading of the blind j For he that has no eyes in 's head, Must be by a dog glad to be led ; And no beasts have so Httle in 'em As that inhuman brute, Opinion. 'Tis an infectious pestilence, The tokens upon wit and sense, That with a venomous contagion Invades the sick imagination : And, when it seizes any part. It strikes the poison to the heart This men of one another catch. By contact, as the humors match; And nothing 's so perverse in nature As a profound opiniator. CRITICS. Critics are Uke a kind of flies, that breed In wild fig-trees, and when they 're grown up, feed Upon the raw fi-uit of the nobler kind. And, by their nibbling on the outward rind, Open the pores, and make way for the sun To ripen it sooner than he would have done. HYPOCRISY. Hypocrisy will serve as well To propagate a church, as zeal ; As persecution and promotion Do equally advance devotion : So round white stones will serve, they say, As weU as eggs to make hens lay. 528 EPIGRAMMA riC. POLISH. AH wit and fancy, like a diamond, The more exact and curious 'tis ground, Is forced for every carat to abate, As much in value as it wants in weight. THE GODLY. A godly man, that has served out his time In hohness, may set up any crime ; As scholars, when they 've taken their degre May set up any faculty they please. PIETY. Why should not piety be made. As well as equity, a trade. And men get money by devotion, As well as making of a motion ? B' allow'd to pray upon conditions, As well as suitors in petitions ? And in a congregation pray, No less than Chancery, for pay ? MARRIAGE. AU sorts of vot'ries, that profess To bind themselves apprentices To Heaven, abjure, with solemn vows, Not Cut and Long-tail, but a Spouse As the worst of aU impediments To hinder their devout intents. POETS. It IS not poetry that makes men poor ; For few do write that were not so before ; And those that have writ best, had they been rich, Had ne'er been clapp'd with a poetic itch ; EPIGRAMMATIC 520 Had loved their ease too well to take the pains To undergo that drudgery of brains ; But, being for all other trades unfit, Only t' avoid being idle, set up wit. PUFFING. They that do write in authors' praises, And freely give their friends their voices, Are not confined to what is true ; That 's not to give, but pay a due : For praise, that 's due, does give no more To worth, than what it had before ; But to commend without desert, Requnes a mastery of art, That sets a gloss on what 's amiss, And writes what should be, not what is. POLITICIANS. All the pontics of the great Are like the cunning of a cheat, That lets his false dice freely run. And trusts them to themselves alone, But never lets a true one stir. Without some fingering trick or slur ; And, when the gamester doubts his play, Conveys his false dice safe away, And leaves the true ones in the lurch T' endure the torture of the search FEAR. There needs no other charm, nor conjurer To raise infernal spirits up, but fear ; That makes men puU. their horns in, like a snail That 's both a pris'ner to itself, and jail ; Draws more fantastic shapes, than in the grains Of knotted wood, in some men's crazy brains ; When all the cocks they think they see, and bulls, Are only in the insides of their skulls. 23 630 EPIGRAMMATIC. THE LAW. The law can take a purse in open court While it condemns a less delinquent for 't. THE SAME. Who can deserve, for breaking of the laws, A greater penance than an honest cause. THE SAME. AH those that do but rob and steal enough, Are punishment and court-of-justice proo^ And need not fear, nor be concerned a straw In all the idle bugbears of the law ; But confidently rob the gallows too, As well as other sufferers, of their due. CONFESSION. In the Church of Eome to go to shrift Is but to put the soul on a clean shift. SMATTERERS AH smatterers are more brisk and pert Than those that understand an art ; As httle sparkles shine more bright Than glowing coals, that give them light BAD WRITERS. As he that makes his mark is understood To write his name, and 'tis in law as good, So he, that can not write one word of sense Believes he has as legal a pretense To scribble what he does not understand, As idiots have a title to their land PlGRAMMATIC. 531 THE OPINIONATIVB. Opinionators naturally differ From other men ; as wooden legs are stiffer Than those of phant joints, to yield and bow, Which way soever they 're design'd to go. LANGUAGE OP THE LEARNED. Were Tully now aHve, he 'd.be to seek In all our Latin terms of art and Greek ; Would never understand one word of sense The most irrefragable schoolman means : As if the Schools design'd their terms of art, Not to advance a science, but to divert ; As Hocus Pocus conjures to amuse The rabble from observing what he does. GOOD WRITING. As 'tis a greater mystery in the art Of painting, to foreshorten any part, Than draw it out ; so 'tis in books the chief Of all perfections to be plain and brief. COURTIERS. As in all great and crowded fairs Monsters and puppet-play are wares, Which in the less will not go off, Because they have not money enough; So men in princes' courts wiU pass That will not in another place. INTENTIONS. All the inventions that the world contains. Were not by reason first found out, nor brains; But pass for theirs who had the luck to hght Upon them by mistake or oversight. 532 EPIGRAMMATIC, LOGICIANS. Logicians used to clap a proposition, As justices do criminals, in prison, And, in as learn'd authentic nonsense, writ The names of all their moods and figures fit ; For a logician's one that has been broke To ride and pace his reason by the book ; And by their rules, and precepts, and examples, To put his wits into a kind of trammels. LABORIOUS WRITERS. Those get the least that take the greatest pains, But most of all i' th' drudgery of the brains, A natural sign of weakness, as an ant Is more laborious than an elephant ; And children are more busy at their play, Than those that wisehest pass their time away. ON A CLUB OF SOTS. The jolly members of a toping club. Like pipestaves, are but hoop'd into a tub ; And in a close confederacy Unk, For nothing else but only to hold drink. HOLLAND. A country that draws fifty feet of water. In which men live as in the hold of Nature ; And when the sea does in upon them break, And drown a province, does but spring a leak ; That always ply the pump, and never think They can be safe, but at the rate they stink ; That live as if they had been run a-ground. And, when they die, are cast away and drown'd ; That dwell ui ships, Hke swarms of rats, and prey Upon the goods all nations' fleets convey ; And, when their merchants are blown up and cracked, Whole towns are cast away and wrecked ; EPIGRAMMATIC. 688 That teed, like cannibals, on other fishes, And serve their cousin-germans up in dishes : A land that rides at anchor, and is moor'd, In which they do not live, but go a-board. WOMEN. Ti.e souls of women are so small, That some beheve they 've none at all ; Or if they have, hke cripples, still They 've but one faculty, the will ; The other two are quite laid by To make up one gTeat tyranny ; And though their passions have most pow'r, They are, Uke Turks, but slaves the more To th' abs'lute will, that with a breath Has sovereign pow'r of life and death, And, as its little int'rests move. Can turn 'em all to hate or love ; For nothing, in a moment, turn To frantic love, disdain, and scorn ; And make that love degenerate T' as great extremity of hate ; And hate again, and scorn, and piques, To flames, and raptures, and love-tricks. EPIGRAMS OF EDMUND WALLER. ON A PAINTED LADY WITH ILL TEETH. Were men so dull they could not see That Lyce painted ; should they flee. Like simple birds, into a net. So grossly woven, and ill set, Her own teeth would undo the knot. And let all go that she had got. Those teeth fair Lyce must not show, If she wftuld bite : her lovers, though 634 EPIGRAMMATIC. Like birds they stoop at seeming grapes, Are dis-abus'd, when first she gapes : The rotten bones discover' d there, Show 'tis a painted sepulcher. OP THE MAKRIAGE OF THE DWARFS. Design, or chance, makes others wive ; But nature did this match contrive : Eve might as well have Adam fled, As she denied her little bed To him, for whom heav'n seem'd to fi:ame, And measure out, this only dame. Thrice happy is that humble pair, Beneath the level of all care I Over whose heads those arrows fly Of sad distrust, and jealousy: Secured in as high extreme. As if the world held none but them. To him the fairest nymphs do show Like moving mountains, topp'd with snow : And ev'ry man a Polypheme Does to his Galatea seem ; None may presume her faith to prove ; He proffers death that proffers love. Ah Chloris I that kind nature thus From all the world had sever'd us : Creating for ourselves us two, As love has me for only you I EPIGRAMS OF MATTHEW PRIOR< A SxMILE. Dear Thomas, didst thou never pop Thy head into a tin-man's shop ? There, Thomas, didst thou never see ('Tis but by way of simile) EPIGRAMMATIC. 535 A squirrel spend his little rage, In jumping round a rolling cage ? The cage, as either side turn'd up, Striking a ring of bells a-top ? — Mov'd in the orb, pleas'd with the chimes, The foolish creature thinks he climbs : But here or there, turn wood or wire, He never gets two inches higher. So fares it with those merry blades. That frisk it under Pindus' shades. In noble songs, and lofty odes. They tread on stars, and talk with gods ; Still dancing in an airy round. Still pleased with their own verses' sound ; Brought back, how fast soe'er they go. Always aspiring, always low. THE FLIES. Say, sire of insects, mighty Sol, (A Fly upon the chariot pole Cries out), what Blue-bottle alive Did ever with such fury drive ? Tell Belzebub, great father, tell (Says t' other, perch' d upon the wheel), Did ever any mortal Fly Eaise such a cloud of dust as I ? My judgment turn'd the whole debate : My valor sav'd the sinking state. So talk two idle buzzing things ; Toss up their heads, and stretch their wings. But let the truth to Hght be brought ; This neither spoke, nor t' other fought : Ko merit in their own behavior : Both rais'd, but by their party's favor. PHILLIS'S AGE. How old may Phillis be, you ask. Whose beauty thus all hearts engages ? To answer is no easy task : For she has really two ages. 636 EPIGRAMMATIC. Stiflf in brocade, and pinch' d in stays, Her patches, paint, and jewels on ; All day let envy view her face, And Phillis is but twenty-one. Paint, patches, jewels laid aside, At night astronomers agree, The evening has the day behed ; And PhiUis is some forty-three. TO THE DUKE DE NOALLES. Vain the concern which you express. That uncall'd Alard will possess Your house and coach, both day and night, And that Macbeth was haunted less By Banquo's restless sprite. With fifteen thousand pounds a-year, Do you complain, you can not bear An il], you may so soon retrieve ? Grood Alard, faith, is modester By much, than you beheve. Lend him but fifty louis-d'or ; And you shall never see him more : Take tlie advice ; probatum est. Why do the gods indulge our store. But to secure our rest ? ON BISHOP ATTERBURT. Meek Francis hes here, firiend: without stop or^stay, As you value your peace, make the best of your way. Though at present arrested by death's caitiff paw. If he stirs, he may stiU have recourse to the law. And in the Bang's Bench should a verdict be found, That by hvery and seisin his grave is his ground, E P I (; R A M M A T I C . 537 fle will claini to himself what is strictly his due, And an action of trespass will straightway ensue, That you without right on his premises tread. On a simple surmise that the owner is dead. FORMA BONUM FRAGILE. What a frail thing is beauty ! says baron Le Cras, Perceiving liis mistress had one eye of glass : And scarcely had he spoke it, When she more confus'd as more angry she grew. By a negligent rage prov'd the maxim too true : She dropt the eye, and broke it. BARNII^G A DINNER. Full oft doth Mat. with Topaz dine, Eateth baked meats, drinketh G-reek wine ; But Topaz his own werke rehearseth ; And Mat. mote praise what Topaz verseth. Now sure as priest did e'er shrive sinner, FuU hardly earneth Mat. his dinner. BIBO AND CHARON. When Bibo thought fit from the world to retreat, And full of champagne as an egg's full of meat, He waked in the boat ; and to Charon he said, He would be row'd back, for he was not yet dead. Trim the boat, and sit quiet, stern Charon replied : You may have forgot, you were drunk when you died THE PEDANT. Lysander talks extremely well ; On any subject let him dwell. His tropes and figures will content ye : He should possess to all degrees The art of talk ; he practices Full fourteen hours in four-and-twenty. 23=^ 538 EPIGIiAMMATlC. EPIGRAMS OF JOSEPH ADDISON. THE COUNTESS OF MANCHESTER. Written on his admission to the Kit-Cat Club, in compliance with the rule thai every new member should name his toast, and write a verse in her praise. While haughty Gallia's dames, that spread O'er their pale cheeks an artful red, Beheld this beauteous stranger there, In nature's charms divinely fair ; Confusion in their looks they showed, And with unborrowed blushes glowed. TO AN ILL-FAYORED LADY. [imitated from martial.] While in the dark on thy soft hand I hung. And heard the tempting syren in thy tongue, What jQames, what darts, what anguish I endured I But when the candle entered I was cured. TO A CAPRICIOUS FRIEND. [imitated from martial.] In aU thy humors, whether grave or mellow, Thou'rt such a touchy, testy, pleasant fellow ; Hast so much wit, and mirth, and spleen about thee, There is no Hvmg with thee, nor without thee. TO A ROGUE. [imitated from martial.] Thy beard aad head are of a different dye : Short of one foot, distorted in an eye : With all these tokens of a knave complete, Should'st thou be honest, thou 'rt a dev'Ush cheat. EPIGRAMMATIC. 639 EPIGRAMS OF ALEXANDER POPE. ON MRS. TOFTS. (a celebrated opera singer.) So bright is thy beauty, so charming thy song, As had drawn both the beasts and their Orpheus along ; But such is thy avarice, and such is thy pride. That the beasts must have starved, and tlie poet have died. TO A BLOCKHEAD. You beat your pate, and fancy wit will come : Knock as you please, there 's nobody at home. THE FOOL AND THE POET. Sir, I admit your general rule. That every poet is a fool, But you yourself may serve to show it, That every fool is not a poet. EPIGRAMS OF DEAN SWIFT. ON BURNING A DULL POEM. An ass's hoof alone can hold That poisonous juice, which kills by cold. Methought when I this poem read. No vessel but an ass's head Such frigid fustian could contain ; I mean the head without the brain. The cold conceits, the chilling thoughts, Went down like stupefying draughts ; I found my head begin to swim, A numbness crept through every limb. 540 EPIGRAMMATIC. In haste, with imprecations dire, I threw the volume in the fire ; When (who could thmk ?) though cold as ice, It burnt to ashes in a trice. How could I more enhance its fame ? Though born in snow, it died in flame. TO A LADY, On hearing her praise her husband. You always are making a god of your spouse ; But this neither Reason nor Conscience allows ; Perhaps you will say, 'tis in gratitude due, And you adore him because he adores you. Your argument 's weak, and so you will find. For you, by this rule, must adore all mankind. THE OUDGIELED HUSBAND. As Thomas was cudgel'd one day by his wife. He took to his heels and fled for his hfe : Tom's tlu-ee dearest friends came by in the squabble, And saved him at once from the shrew and the rabble ; Then ventured to give him some sober advice — • But Tom is a person of honor so nice, Too wise to take counsel, too proud to take warning, That he sent to all three a challenge next morning. Three duels he fought, thrice ventured his life ; Went home, and was cudgeled again by his wife. ON SEEING VERSES WRITTEN UPON WINDOWS AT INNS The sage, who said he should be proud Of windows in his breast. Because he ne'er a thought allow'd That might not be confest ; His window scrawled by every rake, His breast again would cover. And fairly bid the devil take The diamond and the lover. EPIGRAMMATIC 541 ON SEEma THE BUSTS OF NEWTON, LOCKE, AND OTHERS, Placed by Queen Caroline in Richmond Hermitage. Louis the living learned fed, And raised the scientific head ; Our frugal queen, to save her meat^ Exalts the heads that cannot eat ON THE CHURCH'S DANGER. Good Halifax and pious Wharton cry, The Church has vapors; there 's no danger nigh. In those we love not, we no danger see. And were they hang'd, there would no danger be. But we must silent be, amid our fears, And not beheve our senses, but the Peers. So ravishers. that know no sense of shame. First stop her mouth, and then debauch the dame. ON ONE DELACOURT'S COMPLIMENTING CARTHY ON HIS POETRY. Carthy, you say, writes well — his genius true. You pawn your word for him — he '11 vouch for you. So two poor knaves, who find their credit fail, To cheat the world, become each other's bail. ON A USURER. Beneath this verdant hillock lies, Demar, the wealthy and the wise. His heirs, that he might safely rest, Have put his carcass in a chest, The very chest in which, they say, His other self, liis money lay. And, if his heirs continue kind To that dear self he left behind, I dare believe, that four in five WiU think his better half alive. 642 EPIGRAMMATIC. TO MRS. BIDDY FLOYD: , OR, THE RECEIPT TO FORM A BEAUTY. When Cupid dia his grandsire Jove entreat To form some Beauty by a new receipt, Jove sent, and found, far in a country scene, Truth, innocence, good nature, look serene : From which ingredients first the dext'rous boy Pick'd the demure, the awkward, and the coy. The Graces from the court did next provide Breeding, and wit, and air, and decent pride : These Yenus cleans from every spurious grain Of nice coquet, affected, pert, and vain. Jove mix'd up all, and the best clay employ'd ; Then call'd the happy composition Floyd. THE REYERSE; or, MRS. CLUDD. Yenus one day, as story goes, But for what reason no man knows, In sullen mood and grave deport. Trudged it away to Jove's liigh court ; And there his Grodship did entreat. To look out for his best receipt : And make a monster strange and odd, Abhorr'd by man and every god. Jove, ever kind to all the fair, Nor e'er refused a lady's prayer, Straight oped 'scrutoire, and forth he took A neatly bound and well-gilt book ; Sure sign that nothing enter' d there, But what was very choice and rare. Scarce had he turn'd a page or two — It might be more, for aught I know ; But, be the matter more or less, 'Mong friends 't will break no squares, I guesi Then, smiling, to the dame quoth he. Here 's one wUl fit you to a T. EPIGRAMMATIC. 543 But, as the writing doth prescribe, 'Tis fit the ingredients we provide. Away he went, and search' d the stews, And every street about the Mews ; Diseases, impudence, and Ues, Are found and brought him in a trice From Hackney then he did provide, A clumsy air and awkward pride ; From lady's toilet next he brought Noise, scandal, and malicious thought These Jove put in an old close-stool, And with them mix'd the vain, the fool. But now came on his greatest care. Of what he should his paste prepare ', For common clay or finer mold Was much too good, such stuff to hold At last he wisely thought on mud ; So raised it up, and call'd it — Oludd. With this, the lady well content, Low curtsey'd, and away she went. THE PLACE OF THE DAMNED. All folks who pretend to reb'g-ion and grace. Allow there 's a Hell, but dispute of the place : But, if Hell may by logical rules be defined The place of the damn'd — I '11 tell you my mind. Wherever the damn'd do chiefly abound. Most certainly there is Hell to be found : Damn'd poets, damn'd critics, damn'd blockheads, damn'd knaves, Damn'd senators bribed, damn'd prostitute slaves; Damn'd lawyers and judges, damn'd lords and damn'd squires ; Damn'd*spies and informers, damn'd friends and damn'd Hars ; Damn'd villains, corrupted in every station ; Damn'd time-serving priests all over the nation ; And into the bargain I '11 readily give you Damn'd ignorant prelates, and councillors privy. Then let us no longer by parsons be flamm'd. For we know by these marks the place of the damn'd : And Hell to be sure is at Paris or Rome. How happy for us that it is not at home 1 544 EPIGRAMMATIC. THE DAT OF JUDGMENT. With a world of thought oppress' d, I sunk from reverie to rest. A horrid vision seized my head, I savs^ the graves give up their dead ! Jove, arm'd with terrors, bursts the skies, And thunder roars and lightning flies ; Amazed, confused, its fate unknown, The world stands trembling at his throne 1 While each pale sinner hung his head, Jove, nodding, shook the heavens, and said; " Offending race of human kind, By nature, reason, learning, bhnd ; You who,^thr()ugh frailty, stepp'd aside; And you, who never fell from pride : You who in different sects were shamm'd^ And come to see each other damn'd ; (So some folk told you, but they knew No more of Jove's designs than you) ; — The world's mad business now is o'er. And I resent these pranks no more. — ^I to such blockheads set my wit 1 I damn such fools !— -Go, go, you 're bit" PAULUS THE LAWYER. LINDSAY. "A slave to crowds, scorch' d with the summer's heats. In courts the wretched lawyer toils and sweats ; While smiling Nature, in her best attire, Regales each sense, and vernal joys inspire. Can he, who knows that real good should please. Barter for gold his liberty and ease ?" This Paulus preach'd : — When, entering at the door, Upon his board the client pours the ore : He grasps the shining gifts, pores o'er the cause. Forgets the sun, and dozes o'er the laws. PIGRAMMATIC. 646 EPIGRAMS BY THOMAS SHERIDAN ON A CARICATURE. If you say this was made for friend Dan, you belie it, I 'U swear he 's so hke it that he was made by it. ON DEAN SWIFT'S PROPOSED HOSPITAL FOR LUNATICS. Great wits to madness nearly are allied, This makes the Dean for kindred thiLS provide. TO A DUBLIN PUBLISHER. Who displayed a bust of Dean Swift in his window, while publishing Lord Orr© ry's offensive remarks upon the Dean. Faulkner ! for once thou hast some judgment shown. By representing Swift transformed to stone ; For could he thy ingratitude have known, Astonishment itself the work had done 1 WHICH IS WHICH. BYROM. " God bless the King I God bless the faith's defender 1 God bless — no harm in blessing — the Pretender. But who that pretender is, and who that king, God bless us all, is quite another thing." ON SOME LINES OF LOPEZ DE VEGA. DR. JOHNSON. If the man who turnips cries, Cry not when his father dies, 'Tis a proof that he had rather Have a turnip than his father. 646 EPIGRAMMATIC. ON A FULu-LENQTH PORTRAIT OF BEAU MARSR Placed between the busts of Newton and Pope. LORD CHESTERFIELD " Immortal Newton never spoke More truth than here you '11 find ; Nor Pope himself e'er penn'd a joke More cruel on mankind. t " The picture placed the busts between, Gives satire all its strength ; Wis dom and Wit are Httle seen — But Folly at fuU length." ON SCOTLAND. CLEVELAND. " Had Cain been Scot, God would have changed his doom; Nor forced liim wander, but confined him home." EPIGRAMS OF PETER PINDAR. EDMUND BURKE'S ATTACK ON WARREN HASTINGa Poor Edmund sees poor Britain's setting sun : Poor Edmund groans — and Britain is undone ! Reader ! thou hast, I do presume (God knows though) been in a snug room, By coals or wood made comfortably warm. And often fancied that a storm without, Hath made a diabolic rout — Sunk sliips, tore trees up — done a world of harm. Yes, thou hast lifted up thy tearful eyes, Fancying thou heardst of mariners the cries ; And sigh'd, " How wretched now must thousands be i Oh I ho\? I pity the poor souls at sea I" EPIGRAMMATIC. 647 When, lo ! this dreadful tempest, and his roar, A zephyr — ^in the key-hole of the door I Now may not Edmund's howlings be a sigh Pressing through Edmund's lungs for loaves and On which he long hath looked with longing eye To fill poor Edmund's not o'erburden'd dishes ? Give Mun a sup — forgot wiU be complaint ; Britain be safe, and Hastings prove a saint. ON AN ARTIST Who boasted that his pictures had hung near those of Sir Joshua Reynolds in the Exhibition. A shabby fellow chanc'd one day to meet The British Roscius in the street, Garrick, on whom our nation justly brags — The feUow hugg'd Mm with a kind embrace — " Good sir, I do not recoUect your face," Quoth Garrick — " No I" rephed the man of rags: " The boards of Drury you and I have trod Full many a time together, I am sure — " "When?" with an oath, cried Garrick — "for by G — I never saw that face of yours before ! — What characters, I pray, Did you and I together play ?" " Lord !" quoth the feUow, " think not that I mock- When you play'd Hamlet, sir — I play'd the cock." ON THE CONCLUSION OF HIS ODEJ- ^^ Finished r a disappointed artist cries, tWith open mouth, and straining eyes ; Gaping for praise like a young crow for meat^- " Lord 1 why have you not mentioned me /" Mention thee I Thy impudence hath put me in a sweat — What rage for fame attends both great and siteiU Better be d — n'd^ than mention'd not at all/ 548 EPIGRAMM >.TIC. THE LEX TALIONIS UPON BENJAMIN WEST West tells tlie world that Peter can not rhyme — Peter declares, point blank, that West can't paint ; West swears I 've not an atom of subhme — I swear he hath no notion of a saint : And that his cross-wing'd cherubim are fowls, Baptized by naturahsts, owls : Half of the meek apostles, gangs of robbers ; His angels, sets of brazen-headed lubbers. The Holy Scripture says, "All flesh is grass;" With Mr. West, all flesh is brick and brass ; Except his horse-flesh, that I faMy own Is often of the choicest Portland stone. T 've said it too, that this artist's faces Ne'er paid a visit to the graces : That on expression he can never brag : Yet for this article hath he been studying, But in it never could surpass a pudding — No, gentle reader, nor a pudding-bag. I dare not say, that Mr. West Can not sound criticism impart : I 'm told the man with technicals is blest, That he can talk a deal upon the art ; Yes, he can tallv, I do not doubt it — " About it, goddess, and about it." Thus, then, is Mr. West deserving praise — > And let my justice the fair laud afford ; Eor, lo ! this far-fam'd artist cuts both ways, Exactly like the angel G-abriel's sword ; The beauties of the art his converse shows. His canvas almost ev'ry thing that 's bad f Thus at th' Academy, we must suppose, A man more useful never could be had : Who in himself, a host, so much can do ; Who is both precept and example too I EPIGRAMMATIC. 649 BARRY'S ATTACK UPON SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDa When Barry dares the President to fly on, 'Tis hke a mouse, that, work'd into a rage, Daring some dreadful war to wage, Nibbles the tail of the Nemsean lion. Or like a louse, of mettle full, Nurs'd in some giant's skull — Because Goliath scratch'd him as he fed, Employs with vehemence Ms angry claws, And gaping, grinning, formidable jaws, To carry off the giant's head I ON THE DEATH OF MR. HONE, R.A, There 's one R.A. more dead I stiff is poor Hone— His works be with him under the same stone : I think the sacred art will not bemoan 'em ; But, Muse ! — De mortuis nil nisi honum — As to his host, a irav'ler, with a sneer. Said of his dead Small-beer. Go, then, poor Hone ! and join a numerous tram Sunk in Oblivion'' s wide pacific ocean ; And may its whale-like stomach feel no motion To cast thee, like a Jonah, up again. ON GEORGE THE THIRD'S PATRONAGE OF BENJAMIN WEST. Thus have I seen a child, with smiling face, A httle daisy in the garden place. And strut in triumph round its fav'rite flow'r j Gaze on the leaves with infant admiration. Thinking the flow'r the finest in the nation, Then pay a visit to it ev'ry hour : Lugging the wat'ring-pot about. Which John the gard'ner was oblig'd to fill ; The child, so pleas'd, would pour the water out^ To show its marvelous gard'ning skiU ; 650 EPIGRAMMATIC. Then staring round, all wild for praises panting, Tell all the world it was its own sweet planting ; And boast away, too happy elf, How that it found the daisy all itself I ANOTHER ON THE SAME. In simile if I may shine agen — Thus have I seen a fond old hen With one poor miserable chick, Bustling about a farmer's yard ; Now on the dunghill laboring hard, Scraping away through thin and thick, riutt'ring her feathers — making such a noise I Cackling aloud such quantities of joys, As if this chick, to which her egg gave birth. Was born to deal prodigious knocks, To shine the Broughton of game cocks, And kill the fowls of all the earth ! EPITAPH ON PETER STAGGS. Poor Peter Staggs, now rests beneath this rail, Who loved his joke, his pipe, and mug of ale ; For twenty years he did the duties well. Of ostler, boots, and waiter at the " Bell." But Death stepp'd in, and order'd Peter Staggs To feed his worms, and leave the farmers' nags. The church clock struck one — alas ! 't was Peter's kneL, Who sigh'd, " I 'm coming — that 's the ostler's bell 1" TRAY'S EPITAPH. Here rest the relics of a friend below. Blest with more sense than half the folks I know : Fond of his ease, and to no parties prone, He damn'd no sect, but calmly gnaw'd his bone ; Perform'd his functions well in ev'ry way — Blush, Christians, if you can, and copy 2Vay. EPIGRAMMATIC. 651 WHICH MISSED HIM. Talk no more of the lucky escape of the head From a flint so unluckily thrown — I think very different, with thousands indeed, 'T was a lucky escape for the stone. [The following stanza, on the death of Lady Mount E ^"s favorite pig Cupid, is verily exceeded by nothing in the annals of impertinence. — P. P.] A CONSOLATORY STANZA TO LADY MOUNT E , ON THE DEATH OF HER PIG CUPID. dry that tear, so round and big, Nor waste in sighs your precious wiad I Death only takes a single pig — Your lord and son are still behind. EPIGRAMS BY ROBERT BURNS. THE PQET'S CHOICE. I MURDER hate, by field or flood, Though glory's name may screen us ; In wars at hame I '11 spend my blood, Life-giving wars of Venus. The vleities that I adore. Are social peace and plenty ; I 'm better pleased to make one more, Than be the death of twenty. ON A CELEBRATED RULING ELDBB. Here souter Hood in death does sleep j — To h — ^11, if he 's gane thither, Satan, gie him thy gear to keep, He '11 hand it weel thegither. 552 EPIGRAMMATIC. ON JOHN DOVE INNKEEPER OF MAUCHLINB. Here lies Johnny Pidgeon; What was his rehgion ? Wha e'er desires to ken, To some other warl' Maun follow the carl, For here Johnny Pidgeon had nanet Strong ale was ablution — Small beer, persecution, A dram was memento mori: But a full flowing bowl Was the saving 'Ms soul, And port was celestial glory. ON ANDREW TURNER, In se'enteen hunder an' forty-nine, Satan took stuff to mak' a swine, And cuist it in a corner ; But wilily he chang'd his plan, And shaped it something like a man And ca'd it Andrew Turner. ON A SCOTCH COXCOMB Light lay the earth on Billy's breast, ' His chicken heart so tender ; Bu i build a castle on his head. His skull will prop it under. ON GRIZZEL ORIM. Here lies with death auld Grizzel Q-riBi, Lincluden's ugly witch ; death, how horrid is thy taste, To lie with such a b ! Ei'lGRAMMATIC. 553 ON A WAG IN MAUCHLINE. Lament him, Mauchline husbands a', He aften did assist ye ; For had ye stayed whole years awa, Yom- wives they ne'er had missed ye. Ye Maucliline bairns, as on ye pass To scliool in bands thegitlier, tread ye lightly on his grass — Perhaps he was yom* father. EPITAPH ON W . Stop, thief! dame Nature cried to Death, As Willie drew his latest breath ; Yon have my choicest model ta'en ; How shall I make a fool again ? ON A SUICIDE. Earth'd up here lies an imp o' hell, Planted by Satan's dibble — Poor silly wi'etch, he 's damn'd himsel' To save the Lord the trouble. EPIGRAMS FROM THE GERMAN OF LESSINO. NIGER. •' He 's gone at last — old Niger's dead 1" Last night 't was said throughout the city ; Each quidnunc gravely shook his head. And half the town cried, " What a pity 1* The news proved false — 't was all a cheat — The morning came the fact denying ; And aU the town to-day repeat What half the town last night was crying. 24 554 EPIGKAMM ATIt>. A NICE POINT. Say which enjoys the greater bhsses, John, who Dorinda's picture kisses, Or Tom, his friend, the favor'd el^ Who kisses fair Dorinda's self ? Faith, 'tis not easy to divine. While both are thus with raptures fainting, To which the balance should incline, Since Tom and John both kiss a painting. THE POINT DECIDED. Nay, surely John's the happier of the twam, Because — the picture can not kiss again ! TRUE NOBILITY. Young Stirps as any lord is proud, Vain, haughty, insolent, and loud. Games, drinks, and in the full career Of vice, may vie with any peer ; Seduces daughters, wives, and mothers. Spends his own cash, and that of others, Pays like a lord — that is to say. He never condescends to pay. But bangs his creditor in requital — And yet this blockhead wants a title I TO A LIAR. Lie as long as you will, my fine fellow, believe me, Your rhodomontading will never deceive me ; Though yo" took me in then^ I confess, n y good youth, When moved by caprice you once told me the truth. MENDAX. See yonder goes old Mendax, telling lies To that good easy man with whom he 's walking ; How know I that ? you ask, with some surprise ; Why, don't you see, my friend, the fellow's talking. EPIGRAMMATIC. 555 THE BAD WIFE. Savans have decided, that search the globe round, One only bad wife in the world can be found ; The worst of it is, as her name is not known, Not a husband but swears that bad wife is his own. THE DEAD MISER. From the grave where dead Gripeall, the miser, reposes, What a villainous odor invades all our noses I It can't be his hody alone — in the hole They have certainly buried the usurer's soul. ON FELL. While Fell was reposing himself on the hay, A reptile conceal' d bit his leg as he lay ; But all venom himself, of the wound he made Hght, And got well, while the scorpion died of the bite. THE BAD ORATOR. So vile your grimace, and so croaking your speech. One scarcely can tell if you 're laugliing or crying ; Were you fix'd on one's funeral sermon to preach, The bare apprehension would keep one from dying. THE "WISE CHILD. How plain your httle darling says " Mamma," But still she calls you " Doctor," not " Papa." One thing is clear : your conscientious rib Has not yet taught the pretty dear to fib. SPECIMEN OF THE LACONIC. " Be less prolix," says Grill, I like advice — " Grill, you 're an ass I" Now surely that 's concise 556 EPIGRAMMATIC. CUPID AND MERCURY, OR THE BARGAIN. Sly Cupici late with Maia's son Agreed to live as friend and brother ; In proof, his bow and shafts the one Chang'd for the well-fill'd purse of t' other. And now, the transfer duly made, Together through the world they rove ; The thieving god in arms array' d. And gold the panoply of love 1 FRITZ. Quoth gallant Fritz, " I ran away To fight again another day." The meaning of his speech is plain, He only fled to fly again. ON DORILIS. Ti^at Dorilis thus, on her lap as he lies. Should kiss little Pompey, excites no surprise ; But the lapdog whom thus she keeps fondhng and praising, Licks her face in return — that I own is amazing 1 TO A SLOW WALKER AND QUICK EATER. So slowly you walk, and so quickly you eat, You should march with your mouth, and devour with your feet ON TWO BEAUTIFUL ONE-EYED SISTERS, Grive up one eye, and make your sister's two, Yenus she then would be, and Cupid you. THE PER-CONTRA, OR MATRIMONIAL BALANCE. How strange, a deaf wife to prefer I True, but she 's also dumb, good sir. EPIGRAMMATIC. 557 EPIGRAMS S.T.COLERIDGE. AN EXPECTORATION, Or Splenetic Extempore, on 1117 joyful departure from the city of Cologne. As I am rhymer^ And now, at least, a merry one, Mr. Mum's Rudesheimer, And the church of St. Geryon, Are the two things alone. That deserve to be known, In the body-and-soul-stinking town of Cologne. EXPECTORATION THE SECOND. In Clon, the town of monks and bones, And pavements fanged with murderous stones, And rags, and hags, and hideous wenches, I counted two-and-seventy stenches, AU well defined and separate stinks ! Ye nymphs that reign o-'er sewers and sinks, The river Rhine, it is well known. Doth wash your city of Cologne. But tell me, nymphs, what power divine Shall henceforth wash the river Rhine ? TO A LADY, Offended by a sportive observation that women have no soola Nay, dearest Anna, why so grave ? I said you had no soul, 'tis true. For what you are you can not have / 'Tis I that have one since I first had you. AVARO. [stolen from lessing.] There comes from old Avaro's grave A deadly stench— why sure they have Immured his soul within his grave. 558 EPIGRAMMATIC. BEELZEBUB AND JOB. Sly Beilzebub took all occasions To try Job's constancy and patience. He took his honor, took liis health, He took his children, took his wealth, His servants, oxen, horses, cows — But cunning Satan did not take his spouse. But Heaven, that brings out good from evil, And loves to disappoint the devil, Had predetermined to restore Twofold all he had before ; His servants, horses, oxen, cows — Short-sighted devil, not to take liis spouse ! SENTIMENTAL. The rose that blushes hke the mom, Bedecks the valleys low : And so dost thou, sweet infant com, My Angelina's toe. But on the rose there grows a thorn. That breeds disastrous woe : And so dost thou, remorseless corn, On Angehna's toe. AN ETERNAL POEM. Tour poem must eternal be, Dear sir, it can not fail. For 'tis incomprehensible. And wants both head and taiL BAD POETS. Swans sing before they die — 't were no bad thing; Did certain persons die before they sing. EPIGRAMMATIC. 559 TO MR. A LEXANDRE, THE VENTRILOQUIST. SIR WALTER SCOTT. Or yore, in Old England, it was not thought good, To carry two visages under one hood : What should folks say to you f who have faces so plenty, That from under one hood you last night. showed us twenty I Stand forth, arch deceiver, and tell us in truth, Are you handsome or ugly, in age or in youth ? Man, woman or chQd — a dog or a mouse ? Or are you, at once, each live thing in the house ? Each Hve thing did I ask ? — each dead implement too, A workshop in your person — saw, chisel, and screw ! Above all, are you one individual ? — I know You must be, at least, Alexandre and Co. But I think you 're a troop, an assemblage, a mob, And that I, as the sheriff, should take up the job : And, instead of rehearsing your wonders in verse, Must read you the riot-act, and bid you disperse 1 THE SWALLOWS. R. BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. The Prince of Wales came into Brooke's one day, and complained of cold, but after drinking three glasses of brandy and water, said he felt comfortable. The prince came in and said 't was cold, Then put to his head the rummer, Till swallow after swallow came, When he pronounced it summer. FRENCH AND ENGLISH, The French have taste in all they do, Which we are quite withoat ; For Nature, that to them gave goutj To us gave only gout. ERSKINB 560 EPIGRAMMATIC. EPIGRAMS BY THOMAS MOORE. TO SIR HUDSON LOWE. Sir Hudson Lowe, Sir Hudson Low (By name, and ali ! by nature so), As thou art fond of persecutions. Perhaps thou 'st read, or heard repeated, How Captain Gulliver was treated. When thrown among the Lilliputians. They tied him down — these Kttle men did — And having vahantly ascended Upon the Mighty Man's protuberance, They did so strut ! — upon my soul. It must have been extremely droll To see their pigmy pride's exuberance 1 And how the doughty mannikins Amused themselves with sticking pins And needles in the great man's breeches ; And how some very little things, That pass'd for Lords, on scafifoldings Got up and worried him with speeches. Alas I alas ! that it should happen To mighty men to be caught napping ! — Though diflferent, too, these persecutions • For Gulliver, there^ took the nap. While, Aere, the Nap, oh sad mishap, Is taken by the Lilliputians ! DIALOGUE • BETWEEN A CATHOLIC DELEGATE AND HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS THE DUKE OF CUMBERLAND. Said his Highness to Ned, with that grim face of his, ■' Why refuse us the Veto, dear Catholic Neddy ?" — "Because, sir," said Ned, looking full in his phiz, "You're forbidding enough, in all conscience, already!" EPIGRAMMATIC. 561 TO MISS With woman's form and woman's tricks So much of man you seem to mix, One knov/s not where to take you ; I pray you, if 'tis not too far. Go, ask of Nature which you are, Or what she meant to make you. Yet stay — you need not take the pains — With neither beauty, youth, nor brains, For man or maid's desiring : Pert as female, fool as male. As boy too green, as girl too stale- - The thing 's not worth inquiring I TO Die when you will, you need not wear At heaven's court a form more fair Than Beauty here on earth has given ; Keep but the lovely looks we see — The voice we hear and you will be An angel ready-made for heaven ! UPON BEING OBLIGED TO LEAVE A PLEASANT PARTX FROM THE WANT OF A PAIR OF BREECHES TO DRESS FOR DINNER IN. Between Adam and me the great difference is. Though a paradise each has been forced to resign. That he never wore breeches till turn'd out of his, While, for want of my breeches, I 'm banish' d from mine, WHAT'S MY THOUGHT LIKE? Quest. — Why is a Pump Uke Yiscount Castlereagh ? Answ. — Because it is a slender tiling of wood, That up and down its awkward arm doth sway, And cooUy spout, and spout, and spout away, In one weak, washy, everlasting flood 1 24* 562 EPIGRAMMATIC. FROM THE FRENCH. Of all the men one meets about, There 's none like Jack — he 's everywhere : At church — park — auction — dinner — rout — Go when and where you will, he 's there. Try the West End, he 's at your back — Meets you, hke Eurus, in the East — You're call'd upon for " How do, Jack?" One hundred times a-day, at least. A friend of his one evening said, As home he took his pensive way, " Upon my soul, I fear Jack's dead — I 've seen him but three times to-day I" A JOKE VERSIFIED. " Come, come," said Tom's father, " at your time of life. There 's no longer excuse for thus playing the rake — It is time you should tliink, boy, of taking a wife." — " Why, so it is, father — whose wife shall I take ?" THE SURPRISE. Chloris, I swear, by all I ever swore. That from this hour I shall not love thee more. — " What I love no more ? Oh I why this alter' d vow ?" Because I can not love thee more — than now I ON Like a snuffers, this loving old dame. By a destiny grievous enough. Though so oft she has snapp'd at the flame, Hath never more than the snuff. ON A SQUINTING POETESS. To no one Mase does she her glance confine, But has an eye, at once, t ) all the nine 1 EPIGRAMMATIC. 568 ON A TUFT-HUNTER. Lament, lament, Sir Isaac Heard, Put mourning round thy page, Debrett, for here hes one, who ne'er preferr'd A Yiscount to a Marquis yet. Beside his place the Grod of Wit, Before him Beauty's rosiest girls, Apollo for a star he 'd quit, And Love's own sister for an Earl's. Did niggard fate no peers afford. He took, of course, to peers' relations ; And, rather than not sport a lord, Put up with even the last creations. Even Irish names, could he but tag 'em With "Lord" and " Duke," were sweet to call, And, at a pinch. Lord Ballyraggum Was better than no Lord at aU. Heaven grant him now some noble nook, For, rest his soul, he 'd rather be Genteelly damn'd beside a Duke, Than saved in vulgar company. THE KISS. Grive me, my love, that billing kiss I taught you one delicious night, When, turning epicures in bliss, We tried inventions of delight. Come, gently steal my lips along, And let your lips in murmurs move— Ah, no ! — again — that kiss was wrong- How can you be so dull, my love ? " Cease, cease !" the blushing girl replied — And in her milky arms she caught me— " How can you thus your pupU chide ; You know H was in the dai'k you taught me ! 564 EPIGRAMMATIC. EPITAPH ON A WELL-KNOWN POET— (ROBERT SOUTHEY.) Beneath these poppies buried deep, The bones of Bob the bard lie hid ; Peace to his manes ; and may he sleep As soundly as his readers did I Through every sort of verse meandering, Bob went without a hitch or fall, Through Epic, Sapphic, Alexandrine, To verse that was no verse at all ; Till fiction having done enough, To make a bard at least absurd. And give his readers quantum suf., He took to praising George the Third : And now, in virtue of his crown, Dooms us, poor whig-s, at once to slaughter; Like Donellan of bad renown, Poisoning us all with laurel-water. And yet at times some awkward quahns he Felt about leaving honor's track ; And though he 's got a butt of Malmsey, It may not save him from a sack. Death, weary of so dull a writer, Put to his works a, finis thus. Oh I may the earth on him he hghter Than did his quartos upon us ! WTIITTBN IN A YOUNG LADY'S COMMON-PLACE BCOK, Called the " Book of Follies." This journal of folly's an emblem of me; But what book shall we find emblematic of thee ? Oh ! shall we not say thou art Love's Duodecimo ? None can be prettier, few can be less, you know. Such a volume in sheets were a volume of charms ; Or if hound, it should only be hound in our arms f EPIGRAMMATIC. 666 THE RABBINICAL ORIGIN OF WOMEN. They tell us that Woman was made of a rib Jusi- pick'd from a corner so snug in the side ; But the Rabbins swear to you that this is a fib, And 't was not so at all that the sex was supplied. For old Adam was fashion' d, the first of his kind, With a tail like a monkey, fiill a yard and a span ; And when Nature cut off this appendage behind, Why — then woman was made of the tail of the man. If such is the tie between women and men, The ninny who weds is a pitiful elf; For he takes to his tail, like an idiot, again. And makes a most damnable ape of himself! 5ret, if we may judge as the fashions prevail. Every husband remembers the original plan, And, knowing his wife is no more than his tail, Why — ^he leaves her behind him as much as he can. ANAOREONTIQUE. Press the grape, and let it pour Around the board its purple shower ; And while the drops my goblet steep, I 'U think — in woe the clusters weep. Weep on, weep on, my pouting vine I Heaven grant no tears but tears of wine. Weep on ; and, as thy sorrows flow, I 'U taste the luxury of woe 1 SPECULATION. Of all speculations the market holds forth. The best that I know for a lover of pelf. Is to buy up at the price he is worth. And then sell him at that which he sets on himself 666 EPIGRAMMATIC. ON BUTLER'S MONUMENT. REV. SAMUEL WESLEY. While Butler, needy wretch, was yet alive, No generous patron would a dinner give. See him, when starved to death and turn'd to dust, Presented with a monumental bust. The poet's fate is here in emblem shown — He, ask'd for bread, and he received a stone. ON THE DISAPPOINTMENT OF THE WHIG ASSO- OIATES OP THE PRINCE REGENT, AT NOT OBTAINING OFFICE. CHARLES LAMB. Ye politicians, tell me, pray, Why thus with woe and care rent ? This is the worst that you can say. Some wind has blown the wig away, And left the Hair Apparent. TO PROFESSOR AIREY, On his marrying a 'beautifiil woman. SIDNEY SMITH AiREY alone has gained that double prize. Which forced musicians to divide the crown ; His works have raised a mortal to the skies, His marriage-vows have drawn a mortal down. ON LORD DUDLEY AND WARD. SAMUEL ROGERS *' They say Ward has no heart, but I deny it ; He has a heart — and gets his speeches by it." EPIGRAMMATIC. 567 EPIGRAMS OF LORD BYRON. TO THE AUTHOR OF A SONNET BEGINNING " ' SAD IS MY VEE8E,' YOU SAY, ' AKD YET NO TEAB.' " Thy verse is " sad" enough, no doubt, A devilish deal more sad than witty 1 Why should we weep, I can't find out, Unless for thee we weep in pity. Yet there is one I pity more, And much, alas ! I think he needs it — For he, I 'm sure, will suffer sore, Who, to his own misfortune, reads it. The rhymes, without the aid of magic. May once be read — ^but never after ; Yet their effect 's by no means tragic, Although by far too duU for laughter. But would you make our bosoms bleed, And of no common pang complain ? If you would make us weep indeed, TeU us you 'U read them o'er again. WINDSOR POETICS. On the Prince Regent being seen standing between the coffins of Henry Vlli. i Charles L, in the royal vault at Windsor. Famed for contemptuous breach of sacred ties, By headless Charles see heartless Henry lies ; Between them stands another sceptered thing — It moves, it reigns — in aU but name, a king ; Charles to his people, Henry to his wife, — In him the double tyrant starts to life ; Justice and death have mixed their dust in vain, Each royal vampyre wakes to life again. Ah ! what can tombs avail, since these disgorge The blood and dust of both to mold a George ? 668 EPIGK AMM ATIC. ON A CARRIER WHO DIED OF DRUNKENNESa John Adams lies here, of the parish of Southwell, A carrier who carried his can to his mouth well ; He carried so much, and he carried so fast, He could carry no more — so was carried at last; For the Uquor he drank, beuig too much for one, He could not carry off — so he 's now carrio/i. EPIGRAMS OF BARHAM. ON THE WINDOWS OP KING'S COLLEGE REMAINING BOARDED. Loquitur Discipulus Esuriena. Professors, in your plan there seems A something not quite right : 'Tis queer to cherish learning's beams By shutting out the hght. While thus we see your windows block'd, If nobody complains ; Tet everybody must be shock' d, To see you don't take pains. Ajid tell me why should bodily Succumb to mental meat ? Or why should T/ra, (ir)Ta, m, Be all the pie we eat ? No heUuo lihrorum I, No hterary glutton, Would veal with Virgil like to try, With metaphysics, mutton. Leave us no longer in the lurch, With Romans, Grreeks, and Hindoos : But give us beef instead of birch. And hoard us — not your windows. EPIGRAMMATIC. 669 NEW-MADE HONOR. [IMITATED FROM MARTIAL.] A friend I met, some half horn- since — ^'■Good-morrow JackT quoth I; The new-made Knight, hke any Prince, Frown'd, nodded, and pass'd by ; When up came Jem — ^'■Sir John^ your slave /" " Ah, James ; we dine at eight — Fail not — (low bows the supple knave) Don't make my lady wait." The king can do no wrong ? As I 'm a sinner, He 's spoilt an honest tradesman and my dinner. EHEU FUGACES. What Horace says is, Eheu fugaces Anni labunter, Postume, Postume ! Years glide away, and are lost to me, lost to ine I Now^ when the folks in the dance sport their merry toes, Taghonis, and Ellslers, Duvernays and Ceritos, Sighing, I murmur, "0 mihi proeteritos /" ANONYMOUS EPIGRAMS ON A PALE LADY WITH A RED-NOSED HUSBAND. Whence comes it that, in Clara's face, The lily only has its place ? Is it because the absent rose Has gone to pauit her husband's nose ? UPON POPE'S TRANSLATION OP HOMER So much, dear Pope, thy EngUsh Homer charms, As pity melts us, or as passion warms, That after ages will with wonder seek Who 't was translated Homer into Greek. 570 EPIGKAMMATJC. RECIPE FOR A MODERN BONNET. Two scraps of foundation, some fragments of lace, A shower of French rose-buds to droop o'er the face ; Fine ribbons and feathers, with crage and illusions, Then mix and cZerange them in graceful confusion ; Inveigle some fairy, out roaming for pleasure, And beg the slight favor of taking her measure. The length and the breadth of her dear little pate. And hasten a miniature frame to create ; ■ Then pour, as above, the bright mixture upon it, And lo ! you possess "such a love of a bonnet I" MY WIFE AND I As my wife and I, at the window one day, Stood watching a man with a monkey, A cart came by, with a " broth of a boy," Who was driving a stout little donkey. To my wife I then spoke, by way of a joke, " There 's a relation of yours in that carriage.' To which she repHed, as the donkey she spied, " Ah, yes, a relation — hy marriage /" ON TWO G-ENTLEMEN, One of whom, O'Connell, delayed a duel on the plea of his wife's illness j the other declined on account of the illness of his daughter. Some men, with a horror of slaughter. Improve on the Scripture command, And honor their wife and their daughter. That their days may be long in the land. WELLINGTON'S NOSE. " Pray, why does the great Captain's nose Resemble Venice ?" Duncomb cries, "Why," quoth Sam Rogers, "I suppose. Because it has a bridge of size (sighs)." EPIGRAMMATIC. 674 THE SMOKER. All dainty meats I do defy Which feed men fat as swine, He is a frugal man indeed That on a leaf can dine ! He needs no napkin for his hands, His finger's ends to wipe, That keeps his kitchen in a box, And roast meat in his pipe 1 AN ESSAT ON THE UNDERSTANDING, " Harry, I can not think," says Dick, " What makes my ankles grow so thick :" " You do not recollect," says Harry, " How great a calf they have to carry." TO A LIVING AUTHOR. Your comedy I 've read, my friend. And hke the half you pilfer' d best; But sure the piece you yet may mend : EPIGRAMS BY THOMAS HOOD. ON THE ART-UNIONS. That picture-raffles will conduce to nourish Design, or cause good coloring to flourish, Admits of logic-chopping and wise sawing. But surely lotteries encourage drawing. THE SUPERIORITY OE MACHINERY. A mechanic his labor will often discard If the rate of his pay he dishkes : But a clock — and its case is uncommonly hard — WiU continue to work though it strikes. 572 EPIGKAMMATIC. EPIGRAMS BY W. SAVAGE LANDOR. ON OBSERYING A YULGAR NAME ON THE PLINTH OF AN ANCIENT STATUE. Barbarians must we always be ? Wild hunters in pursuit of fame ? Must there be nowhere stone or tree Ungashed with some ignoble name. Yenus ! in thy Tuscan dome May every god watch over thee 1 Apollo I bend thy bow o'er Rome, And guard thy sister's chastity. Let Britons paint their bodies blue As formerly, but touch not you. LYING IN STATE. Now from the chamber all are gone Who gazed and wept o'er WeUington ; Derby and Dis do all they can To emulate so great a man : If neither can be quite so great, Resolved is each to lie in state. EPIGRAMS FROM PUNCH. THE CAUSE. LiSETTE has lost her wanton wUes — What secret care consumes her youth, And circumscribes her smiles ? — A speck on a front tooth ? IRISH PARTICULAR. Shiel's oratory 's like bottled Dublin stout — For, draw the cork, and only froth comes out. EPIGRAMMATIC. 673 ONK GOOD TURN DESERYES ANOTHER. A poor man went to hang himself, But treasure chanced to find : He pocketed the miser's pelf And left the rope beliind. His money gone, the miser hung Himself in sheer despair : Thus each the other's wants supplied, And that was surely fair. STICKY. I 'm going to seal a letter, Dick, Some wax pray give to me. I have not got a single sticky Or whacks I 'd give to thee. THE POET FOILED. To win the maid the poet tries, And sometimes writes to Julia's eyes ;- She lilces a verse — but, cruel whim. She stni appears a-verse to him. BLACK AND WHITE. The Tories vow the Whigs are black as night, And boast that they are only blessed with hght Peel's pohtics to both sides so incline, His may be called the equinoctial line. INQUEST— NOT EXTRAORDINARY. Great Bulwer's works fell on Miss Basbleu's head, And, in a moment, lo ! the maid was dead 1 A juiy sat, and found the verdict plain — She died of milk and water on the brain. 574 EPIGKAMMATIC. DOMESTIC ECONOMY. Said Stiggins to his wife, one day, " We 've nothing left to eat; If things go on in this queer way, We shan't make hoth ends meet'' The dame replied, in words discreet, " We 're not so badly fed, If we can make but one end meat, And make the other bread" ON SEEING AN EXECUTION. One morn, two friends before the Newgate drop, To see a culprit throttled, chanced to stop : "Alas!" cried one, as round in air he spun, " That miserable wretch's race is run" " True," said the other, drily, " to his cost^ The race is run — but, by a neck 'tis lost." A VOICE, AND NOTHING ELSE. *' I wonder if Brougham thinks as much as he tallcs,'' Said a punster, perusing a trial : " I vow, since his lordship was made Baron Vaux, He 's been Vaux et proeterea nihiir THE AMENDE HONORABLE. Quoth Will, " On that young servant-maid My heart its life-string stakes." " Quite safe !" cries Dick, " don't be afraid- She pays for all she breaks." THE CZAE. Czar KiCHOLAS is so devout, they say, His majesty does nothing else than prey. EPIGRAMMATIC. 575 BAS BLEU. Ma'amsdle Bas Bleu, erudite virgin, With leai'ned zeal is ever urging The love and reverence due From modern men to things antique, Egyptian, British, Roman, Greek, ReHc of G-aul or Jew. No wonder that, Ma'amselle, the love Due to antiquity to prove And urge is ever prone ; She knows where'er there cease to be Admirers of Antiquity, She needs must lose her own I TO A RICH YOUNG WIDOW, I will not ask if thou canst touch The tuneful ivory key ? Those silent notes of thine are such As quite suffice for me. I 'U make no question if thy skill The pencil comprehends. Enough for me, love, if thou still Canst draw thy dividends ! THE RAILWAY OF LIFE. Short was the passage through this earthly vale. By turrpike roads when mortals used to wend , But now we travel by the way of rail, As S001 again we reach the journey's end. A CONJUGAL CONUNDRUM. WTiich is of greater value, prythee, say, The Bride or Bridegroom ? — must the truth be Wd ? Alas, it must ! The Bride is given away- The BridegrooTi'^ often reqTvilaHy soW. 5T6 EPIGRAMMATIC. NUMBERS ALTERED. The lounger must oft. as he walks through the streets, Be struck with the grace of some girl that he meets ; So gi'aceful behind in dress — ringlets — all that — But one gaze at the front — what a honid old cat ! You then think of the notice you 've seen on a door, Which informs you, of " 70 late 24." GRAMMAR FOR THE COURT OF BERLIN His majesty you should not say of Fritz^ That king is neuter ; so for His, use Its. THE EMPTY BOTTLE. WILLIAM AYTOCN Ah, Hberty ! how hke thou art To this large bottle lying here. Which yesterday from foreigTi mart. Came filled with potent English beer ! A touch of steel — a hand — a gush — A pop that sounded far and near — A wild emotion — hquid rush — And I had drunk that Enghsh beer 1 And what remains ? — An empty shell 1 A lifeless form both sad and queer, A temple where no god doth dwell — The simple memory of beer ! THE DEATH OF DOCTOR MORRISON. BENTLEY's jnSCELLAJSTY. What 's the news ? — ^AVhy, they say Death has killed Dr. Morri- son. The PiU-maker ? Yes. Then Death will be sorry soon. EPIGEAMMATIC, 67V EPIGRAMS BY JOHN" G. SAXE. ON A RECENT CLASSIC CONTROYERST. Nay, marvel not to see these scholars fight, In brave disdain of certain scath and scar ; 'Tis but the genuine, old, Hellenic spite, — " When Greek meets Greek, then comes the tug of war 1" ANOTHER. Quoth Da.vid to Daniel — " Why is it these scholars Abuse one another whenever they speak ?" Quoth Daniel to David — it nat'rally follers Folks come to hard words if they meddle with Greek 1" ON AN ILL-READ LAWYER. An idle attorney besought a brother For '' something to read — some novel or other, That was really fresh and new." " Take Chitty !" rephed his legal friend, " There is n't a book that I could lend Would prove more ' novel' to you !" ON AN UGLY PERSON SITTING FOR A DAGUERREOTYPR Here Nature in her glass — the wanton elf — Sits gravely making faces at herself; And while she scans each clumsy feature o'er, Repeats the blunders that she made before I WOMAN'S WILL. Men dying make their wills — but wives Escape a work so sad ; Why should they make what all their livefl The gentle dames have had ? 25 678 EPIGRAMMATIC. FAMILY QUARRELS. " A fool," said Jeanette, " is a creature I hate !" "But hating," quoth John, " is immoral; Besides, my dear girl, it 's a terrible fate To be found in a family quarrel !" A REVOLUTIONARY HERO. JAMES RUSSELL LOWULU Old Joe is gone, who saw hot Percy goad His slow artillery up the Concord road, A tale which grew in wonder year by year ; As every time he told it, Joe drew near To the main fight, tiU faded and grown gray, The original scene to bolder tints gave way ; Then Joe had heard the foe's scared double-quick Beat on stove drum with one uncaptured stick, And, ere death came the lengthening tale to lop, Himself had fired, and seen a red-coat drop ; Had Joe lived long enough, that scrambling fight Had squared more nearly to his sense of right, And vanquished Perry, to complete the tale, Had ha m mered stone for life in Concord jail. EPIGRAMS OF HALPIN, THE LAST RESORT. A DRAMATIST declared he had got So many people in his plot. That what to do with half he had Was like to drive him drama-mad ! ' The hero and the heroine Of course are married — very fine ! But with the others, what to do Is more than I can tell— can you ?" EPIGRAMMATIC. 579 His friend replied — '"Tis hard to say, But yet I think there is a way. The married couple, thank their star^ And half the ' others' take the cars , The other half you put on board An Erie steamboat — take my word, They '11 never trouble you again I" The dramatist resumed his pen. FEMININE ARITHMETIC. LAURA. On me he shall ne'er put a ring, So, mamma, 'tis in vain to take trouble^— For I was but eighteen in spring, While his age exactly is double. MAMMA. He 's but in his thirty-sixth year, Tall, handsome, good-natured and witty, And should you refuse him, my dear, May you die an old maid without pity I LAURA. His figure, I grant you, will pass. And at present he 's young enough plenty ; But when I am sixty, alas ! Will not he be a hundred and twenty ? THE MUSHROOM HUNT. In early days, ere Common Sense And Genius had in anger parted, They made to friendship some pretense, Though each, Heaven knows I diversely hearted. To hunt for mushrooms once they went. Through nibbled sheepwalks straying onward, Sense with his dull eyes earthward bent, While Grenius shot his glances sunward I 580 EPIGRAMMATIC. Away they go I On roll the hours, And toward the west the day-god edges ; See I G-enius holds a wreath of flowers, Fresh culled from all the neighboring hedges I Alas I ere eve their bright hues flit, While Common Sense (whom I so doat on !) Thanked God "that he had httle wit," And drank his ketchup with his mutton. JUPITER AMANS. DEDICATED TO VICTOR HUGO. LONDON LEADEB "Le Petit" call not him who by one act Has turned old fable into modern fact. Nap Louis courted Europe : Europe shied : Th' imperial purple was too newly dyed. " I '11 have her though," thought he, " by rape or rapine ; Jove nods sometimes, but catch a Nap a napping ! And now I think of Jove, 't was Jove's own fix, And so I '11 borrow one of Jove's own tricks : Old itching Palm I 'U tickle with a joke. And he shall lend me England's decent cloak." 'T was said and done, and his success was full ; He won Europa with the guise of Bull 1 THE ORATOR'S EPITAPH. LORD BROUGHAM. " Here, reader, turn your weeping eyes, My fate a useful moral teaches ; The hole in which my body lies Would not contain one-half my speeches." ECCENTRIC AND NONDESCRIPT. ECCENTRIC AND NONDESCRIPT. THE JOVIAL PRIEST'S CONFESSION. TRANSLATED FROM THE LATIN OF WALTER DE MAPES, TIME OF HENRY II. LEIGH HUNT. I DEVISE to end my days — in a tavern drinking, May some Christian hold for me — the glass when I am slirinking, That the cherubim may cry — when they see me sinking, Grod be merciful to a soul — of this gentleman's way of thinking. A glass of wine amazingly — enhghteneth one's intervals ; 'Tis wings bedewed with nectar — that fly up to supernals ; Bottles cracked in taverns — have much the sweeter kernels, Than the sups allowed to us — ^in the college journals. Every one by nature hath — a mold which he was cast in ; I happen to be one of those — who never could write fasting ; By a single Httle boy — I should be surpass'd in Writing so : I 'd just as lief — be buried; tomb'd and grass'd in. Every one by nature hath — a gift too, a dotation : I, when I make verses — do get the inspiration Of the very best of wine — that comes into the nation : It maketh sermons to astound — for etlification. Just as liquor floweth good — floweth forth my lay so ; But I must moreover eat — or I could not say so ; Naught it availeth inwardly — should I write all day so ; But with God's grace after meat — I beat Ovidius Naso. Neither is there given to me — prophetic animation, Unless when I have eat and drank — ^yea, ev'n to saturation , Then in my upper story — ^hath Bacchus domination, And Phoebus rushes into me, and beggareth all relation. 684 ECCENTKIC AND NONDESCRIPT. TONIS AD RESTO MARE. ANONYMOUS Oh, Mary, heave a sigh foi me: MARE aeva si forme ; Forme ure tonitru ; lambicum as amandum, Olet Hymen promptu ; Mihi is vetas an ne se, As humano erebi ; Olet mecum marito te, Or eia heta pi. Alas, piano more meretrix, Mi ardor vel uno ; Inferiam ure artis base, Tolerat me m-ebo. Ah me ve ara silicet, Yi laudu vimin thus ? Hiatu as arandum sex — Illuc lonicus. Heu sed heu vix en imago, My missis mare sta ; cantu redit in mihi Hibernas arida ? A veri vafer heri si, Mihi resolves indu : Totius olet Hymen cum — Accepta tonitru. DIG. DEAN SWIFR Dio, heris agro at, an da quar to fine ale, Eora rinp-at ure nos, an da stringat ure tale.* • Dick, here is a groat, a quart o' fine ale. For a ring at your nose, and a string at your taiL iCCENTBIC AND NONDESCRIPT. 58i MOLL. Mollis abuti, Has an acuti, No lasso finis, Molli divinis.* DEAN SWIFT TO MY MISTRESS. DEAN SWIFT. MI de armis tres, Imi na dis tres. Cantu disco ver Meas alo ver ?t A LOVE SONG. DEAN SWIFT. Apud in is almi de si re, Mimis tres I ne ver re qui re, Alo veri findit a gestis, Hjs miseri ne ver at restis.^ * Moll is a beauty. Has an acute eye ; No lass so fine is, Molly divine is. t O my dear mistress I am in a distress. Can't you discover Me as a lover ? t A pudding is all my desire. My mistress I never require ; A lover I find it a jest is, His misery never at rest is. 25* 586 ECCENTT?IC AND NONDESCRIPT. A GENTLE ECHO ON WOMAN. IN THE DORIC MANNER. DEAN SWIFT. Shepherd. Echo, I ween, will in the woods reply, And quaintly answer questions : shall I try ? Echo. Try. Shepherd. What must we do our passion to express ? Echo. Press. Shepherd. How shall I please her, who ne'er loved before ? Echo. Before. Shepherd. What most moves women when we them address ? Echo. A dress. Shepherd. Say, what can keep her chasjte whom I adore ? Echo. A door. Shepherd. If music softens rocks, love tunes my lyre. Echo. Liar. Shepherd. Then teach me, Echo, how shall I come by her ? Echo. Buy her. Shepherd. When bought, no question I shall be her dear ? Echo. Her deer. Shepherd. But deer have horns : how must I keep her under ? Echo. Keep her under Shepherd. But what can glad me when she's laid on bier ? Echo. Beer. Shepherd. What must I do when women wiU be kind ? Echo. Be Idnd. Shepherd. What must I do when women wiU be cross ? Echo. Be cross. Shepherd. Lord, what is she that can so turn and wind ? Echo. Wind. Shepherd. If she be wind, what stills her when she blows ? Echo. Blows. Shepherd. But if she bang again, still should I bang her ? Echo. Bang her. Shepherd. Is there no way to moderate her anger? Echo. Hang her. Shepherd. Thanks, gentle Echo ! right thy answers tell What woman is and how to guard her well Echo. Q-uard her well ECCENTRIC AND NONDESCRIPT. 587 TO MY NOSE. ANONYMOUS. Knows he that never took a pinch, Nosey 1 che pleasure thence which flows ? Knows he the titillating joy Which my nose knows ? Oh, nose ! I am as fond of thee As any mountain of its snows ! I gaze on thee, and feel that pride A Roman knows I ROGER AND DOLLY. BLACKWOOD. Young Roger came tapping at Dolly's window — Thumpaty, thumpaty, thump ; He begg'd for admittance — she answered him no— Glumpaty, glumpaty, glump. No, no, Roger, no — as you came you may go — Stumpaty, stump aty, stump. what is the reason, dear Dolly ? he cried — Humpaty, humpaty, hump — That thus I 'm cast off and unkindly denied ? — Trumpaty, trumpaty, trump — Some rival more dear, I guess, has been here — Crumpaty, crampaty, crump — Suppose there 's been two, sir, pray what 's that to you, sir ? Numpaty, numpaty, nump — Wi' a disconsolate look his sad farewell he took— Trumpaty, trump:ity, trump — And all in despair jump'd into a brooK — Jumpaty, jumpaty, jump — TTia courage did cool in a filthy green pool — Slumpaty, slumpaty, slump — So he swam to the shore, but saw Dolly no more— Dumpaty, dumpaty, dump — 588 ECCENTRIC AND NONDESCEIIT. He did speedily find one more fat and more kind — Plumpaty, plumpaty, plump — But poor Dolly 's afraid she must die an old maid— Mumpaty, mumpaty, mump. THE IRISHMAN. BLACKWOOD. I. There was a lady lived at Leith, A lady very stylish, man, And yet, in spite of all her teeth, She fell in love with an Irishman, A nasty, ugly Irishman, A wild tremendous Irishman, A tearing, swearing, thumping, bumping, ranting, roaring Irisiunaii II. His face was no ways beautiful, For with small-pox 't was scarred across : And the shoulders of the ugly dog Were almost doubled a yard across. the lump of an Irishman, The whiskey devouring Irishman — The great he-rogue with his wonderful brogue, the fighting, riot- ing Irishman. III. One of his eyes was bottle green. And the other eye was out, my dear ; And the calves of his wicked-looking legs Were more than two feet about, my dear, O, the great big Irishman, The rattling, batthng Irishman — The stamping, ramping, swaggering, staggering, leathering swash of an Irishman. IV. He took so much of Lundy-foot, That he used to snort and snuffle — 0, ECCENTRIC AND NONDESCRIPT. 589 And in shape and size the fellow's neck Was as bad as the neck of a buffalo. O, the horrible Irishman, The thundering, blundering Irishman — The slashing, dashing, smashing, lashing, thrashing, hashing Irish- man. V. Hjs name was a terrible name, indeed, Being Timothy Thady Mulligan ; And whenever he emptied his tumbler of punch, He 'd not rest till he fill'd it full again. The boozing, bruising Irishman, The 'toxicated Irishman — The whiskey, frisky, rummy, gummy, brandy, no dandy Irishman. VI. This was the lad the .ady loved. Like all the girls of quality ; And he broke the skuUs of the men of Leith, Just by the way of jollity, 0, the leathering Irishman, The barbarous, savage Irishman — The hearts of the maids and the gentlemen's heads were bothered I 'm sure by this Irishman. A CATALECTIG MONODY! cruikshank's omnibus. A cat I sing, of famous memory. Though caiachrestical my song may be ; In a small gai'den catacomb she lies, And ca^clysms fill her comrades' eyes ; Borne on the air, the ca^acoustic song Swells with her virtues' catalogue along ; No cafeplasm could lengthen out her years, Though mourning friends shed cataracts of tears. Once loud and strong her ca^echist-hke voice It dwindled to a cateall's squeaking noise ; 590 ECCENTRIC AND NONDESCRIPT Most categorical her virtues shone, By catenation join' d each one to one; — But a vile cate-hpoll dog, with cruel bite, Like calling's cut, her strength disabled quite ; Her caterwauling pierced the heavy air, As ca^aphracts their arms through legions bear ; 'Tis vain! as caterpillars drag away Their lengths, like cattle after busy day, She ling'ring died, nor left in kit kat the Embodyment of this catastrophe. A NEW SONG OF NEW SIMILES. Mt passion is as mustard strong ; I sit all sober sad ; Drunk as a piper all day long, Or like a March-hare mad. Round as a hoop the bumpers flow ; I drink, yet can't forget her ; For though as drunk as David's sow I love her still the better. Pert as a pear-monger I 'd be, If Molly were but kind ; €ool as a cucumber could see The rest of womankind. Like a stuck pig I gaping stare, And eye her o'er and o'er ; Lean as a rake, with sighs and care, Sleek as a mouse before. Plump as a partridge was I known, And soft as silk my skin ; My cheeks as fat as butter grown, But as a goat now thin I JOHN GAT. ECCENTRIC ANP N0NDE8CEIPT. 591 I melancholy as a cat, Am kept awake to weep ; But she, insensible of that, Sound as a top can sleep. Hard is her heart as flint or stone, She laughs to see me pale ; And merry as a grig is grown, And brisk as bottled ale. The god of Love at her approach Is busy as a bee ; Hearts sound as any bell or roach, Are smit and sigh like me. Ah me ! as thick as hops or hail The fine men crowd about her ; But soon as dead as a door-nail Shall I be, if without her. Straight as my leg her shape appears , were we join'd together ! My heart would be scot-free from cares And Ughter than a feather. As fine as five-pence is her mien, No drum was ever tighter ; Her glance is as the razor keen, And not the sun is brighter As sofl as pap her kisses are, Methinks I taste them yet ; Brown as a berry is her hair, Her eyes as black as jet. As smooth as glass, as white as curds Her pretty hand invites ; Sharp as her needle are her words, Her wit like pepper bites. Brisk as a body-louse she trips, Clean as a penny drest ; Sweet as a rose her breath and Hps, Round as the globe her breast. 592 ECCENTRIC AND NONDESCRIPT Full as an egg was I with glee, And happy as a king : Good Lord I how all men envied me ! She loved like any tMng. But false as hell, she, liJse the wind, Chang' d, as her sex must do ; Though seeming as the turtle kind, And like the gospel true. If I and Molly could agree. Let who would take Peru I Great as an Emperor should I be, And richer than a Jew. Till you grow tender as a chick, I 'm dull as any post ; Let us hke burs together stick, And warm as any toast. You '11 know me truer than a die, And wish me better sped ; Flat as a flounder when I lie, And as a herring dead. Sure as a gun she 'U drop a tear And sigh, perhaps, and wish, When I am rotten as a pear, And mute as any fish. REMTNISCENCES OF A SENTIMENTALIST. THOMAS HOOD. " My TaUes I Meat it is, T set it down I"— Hamlet. I THINK it was Spring — but not certain I am — When my passion began first to work ; But I know we were certainly looking for lamb, And the season was over for pork. ECCENTRIC AND NONDESCRIPT. 593 'T was at Christmas, I tliink, when I met with Miss Chase, Yes — for Morris had asked me to dine — And I thought I had never beheld such a face, Or so noble a turkey and chine. Placed close by her side, it made others quite wild With sheer envy, to witness my luck ; How she blushed as I gave her some turtle, and smied As I afterward offered some duck. I looked and I languished, alas ! to my cost, Through three courses of dishes and meats ; Getting deeper in love — but my heart was quite lost When it came to the trifle and sweets. With a rent-roll that told of my houses and land, To her parents I told my designs — And then to herself I presented my hand, With a very fine pottle of pines ! I asked her to have me for weal or for woe, And she did not object in the least ; — I can't tell the date — but we married I know Just in time to have game at the feast. We went to , it certainly was the sea-side ; For the next, the most blessed of morns, I remember how fondly I gazed at my bride, Sitting down to a plateful of prawns. 0, never may memory lose sight of that year, But still hallow the time as it ought ! That season the " grass" was remarkably dear. And the peas at a guinea a quart. So happy, like hours, all our days seemed to haste« A fond pair, such as poets have drawn. So united in heart — so congenial in taste — We were both of us partial to brawn ! A long life I looked for of bliss with my bride, But then Death — I ne'er dreamt about that I 0, there 's nothing is certain in life, as I cried When my turbot eloped with the cat I 594 ECCENTRIC AND NONDESCRIPT. My dearest took ill at the turn of the year, But the cause no physician could nab ; But something, it seemed hke consumption, I fear — It was just after supping on crab. In vain she was doctored, in vain she was dosed, Still her strength and her appetite pined ; She lost relish for what she had rehshed the most, Even salmon she deeply declined ! For months still I lingered in hope and in doubt, While her form it grew wasted and thin ; But the last dying spark of existence went out. As the oysters were just coming in ! She died, and she left me the saddest of men, To indulge in a widower's moan ; Oh ! I felt all the power of solitude then, As I ate my first " natives" alone ! But when I beheld Virtue's friends in their cloaks, And with sorrowful crape on their hats, my grief poured a flood ! and the out-of-door folks Were aU crying — I think it was sprats ! FAITHLESS NELLY GRAY, A PATHETIC BALLAD. Ben Battle was a soldier bold. And used to war's alarms ; But a cannon-baU took off his legs. So he laid down his arms ! Now, as they bore him off the field. Said he, " Let others shoot. For here I leave my second leg, And the Forty-second Foot 1" THOMAS HOOD, ECCENTEIC AND XONDESCKIPT. 590 The army-surgeons made him hmbs : Said he, they 're only pegs : But there 's as wooden members quite As represent my legs !" Now, Ben he loved a pretty maid, Her name was NeUy Gray ; So he went up to pay his devours, When he devoured liis pay ! But when he called on Nelly Gray, She made liim quite a scoff; And when she saw his wooden legs, Began to take them off 1 " 0, Nelly Gray ! 0, NeUy Gray Is tliis your love so warm ? The love that loves a scarlet coat Should be more uniform 1" Said she, " I loved a soldier once For he was bUthe and brave ; But I will never have a man With both legs in the grave ! " Before you had those timber toes, Your love I did allow, But then, you know, you stand upon Another footing now I" " 0, NeUy Gray ! 0, NeUy Gray I For all your jeering speeches, At duty's call I left ray legs, In Badajos's breaches /" " Why then," said she, " you *ve lost the feet Of legs in war's alarms. And now you can not wear your shoes Upon your feats of arms 1" " 0, false and fickle Nelly Gray ! I know why you refuse : — Though I 've no feet — some other man Is standing ui my shoes 1 596 ECCENTRIC AND NONDESCRIPT. " I wish I ne'er had seen your face ; But now, a long farewell I For you will be my death ; — alas You will not be my NeU /" Now, when he went from NeUy Gray, His heart so heavy got, And life was such a burden grown, It made him take a knot 1 So round his melancholy neck A rope he did entwine, And, for his second time in life, Enlisted in the Line. One end he tied around a beam, And then removed his pegs. And, as his legs were off — of course, He soon was off his legs I And there he hung, till he was dead As any nail in town — For, though distress had cut him up, It could not cut him down 1 A dozen men sat on his corpse, To find out why he died — And they buried Ben in four cross-roads, With a stake in his inside 1 NO! THOMAS HOOD. No sun — no moon ! No morn — ^no noon — No dawn — ^no dusk — no proper time of day — No sky — ^no earthly view — No distance looking blue — No road — ^no street — no " t' other side the way" — No end to any Row — No indications where the Crescents go— BCCi.NTRIC AND NONDBSCRTPT. 597 No top to any steeple — No recognitions of familiar people — No courtesies for showing 'em- No knowing 'em I To traveling at all — no locomotion, No inkling of the way — no notion — " No go -by land or ocean — No mail — no post — No news from any foreign coast- No park — ^no ring — no afternoon gentility- No company — no nobility — No warmth, no cheerfulness, no healthful ease, No comfortable feel in any member — No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees. No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds, November I JACOB OMNIUM'S HOSS A NEW PALLICE COURT CHANT. W. MAKEPEACE TM^.OEEBAY One sees in Viteall Yard, Yere pleacemen do resort, A wenerable hinstitute, 'Tis called the PaUis Court. A gent as got his i on it, I think will make some sport The natur of this Court My hindignation riles : A few fat legal spiders Here set & spin their viles; To rob the town theyr privlege ia^ In a hayrea of twelve miles. The Judge of this year Court Is a mellitary beak, 698 ECCENTRIC AND NONDESCRIPT He knows no more of Lor Than praps he does of Greek, And prowides hisself a deputy Because he can not speak. Four counsel in this Court — Misnamed of Justice — sits ; These lawyers owes their places to Their money, not tlieir wits ; And there 's six attornies under them, As here their hving gits. These lawyers, six and four, Was a hvin at their ease, A sendin of their writs abowt^ And droring in the fees, When their erose a cirkimstance As is like to make a breeze. It now is some monce since, A gent both good and trew Possest a ansum oss vith vich He didn know what to do : Peraps he did not lil^e the oss, Perhaps he was a scru. This gentleman his oss At Tattersall's did lodge ; There came a wulgar oss-dealer. This gentleman's name did fodge, And took the oss from Tattersall's : Wasn that a artful dodge? One day this gentleman's groom This willain did spy out, A mounted on this oss, A ridin liim about ; " Get out of that there oss, you rogue," Speaks up the groom so stout. The thief was cruel whex'd To find hisself so pinn'd ; ECCENTRIC AND NONDESCRIPT. 599 The OSS began to whinny, The honest groom he grinn'd ; And the raskle thief got off the oss And cut avay hke vind. And phansy with what joy The master did regard His dearly bluvd lost oss again Trot in the stable yard ! Who was tliis master good Of whomb I makes these rhymes ? His name is Jacob Homnium, Exquire ; And if I'd committed crimes, Good Lord ! I wouldn't ave that mann Attack me in the limes 1 Now, shortly after the groomb His master's oss did take up, There came a hvery-man This gentleman to wake up ; And he handed in a little bill, Which hanger'd Mr. Jacob. For two pound seventeen This livery-man eplied, For the keep of Mr. Jacob's oss, Which the thief had took to rido. " Do you see any think green in me ?" Mr. Jacob Homnium cried. " Because a raskle chews My oss away to robb, And goes tick at your Mews For seven-and-fifty bobb. Shall / be called to pay ? — It is A iniquitious Jobb." Thus Mr. Jacob cut The conwasation short ; The Hvery-man went ome, Detummingd to ave sport, And summingsd Jacob Homniuni, Exquire, Into the Pallis Court. dOO ECCENTRIC AND NONDESCRIPT. Pore Jacob went to Court, A Counsel for to fix, And choose a barrister out of the four, An attorney of the six ; And there he sor these men of Lor, And watched 'em at their tricks. The dreadful day of trile In the Pallis Court did come ; The lawyers said their say, The Judge looked wery glum, And then the British Jury cast Pore Jacob Hom-ni-um. O, a weary day was that For Jacob to go through ; The debt was two seventeen (Which he no mor owed than you), And then there was the plaintives costa^ Eleven pound six and two. And then there was his own, Which the lawyers they did fix At the wery moderit figgar Of ten pound one and six. Now Evins bless the PalHs Court. And all its bold ver-dicks I I can not settingly teU If Jacob swaw and cust, * At aving for to pay this sumb, But I should think he must, And av drawn a cheque for £24 4s. Sd. With most igstreme disgust. Pallis Court, you move My pitty most profound. A most emusing sport You thought it, I 'U be bound. To saddle hup a three-pound debt, With two-and-twenty pound. ECCENTRIC AND NONDESCRIPT. 601 Good sport it is to you, To gi-ind the honest pore ; To pay their just or unjust debts With eight hundred per cent, for Lor; Make haste and git your costes in, They will not last much mor 1 Come down from that tribewn, Thou Shameless and Unjust ; Thou Swindle, picking pockets in The name of Truth, august ; Come down, thou hoary Blasphemy, For die thou shalt and must. And go it, Jacob Homnium, And ply ycur iron pen. And rise up Sf'r John Jervis, And shut me up that den ; That sty for fattening lawyers in, On the bones of honest men. Pleaceman X. THE WOFLE NEW BALLAD OF JANE RONEY AND MARY BROWN. WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY. An igstrawnary tail I vill tell you this veek — I stood in the Court of A'Beckett the Beak, Vere Mrs. Jane Roney, a vidow, I see, Who charged Mary Brown with a robbin' of she. This Mary was pore and in misery once, And she came to Mrs. Ropey it 's more than twelve monce ; She adn't got no bed, nor no ditmer, nor no tea, And Idnd Mrs. Roney gave Mary all three. Mrs. Roney kep Mary for ever so many veeks (Her conduct disgusted the best of all Beax), She kept her for nothink, as kind ^s could be, Never thinking that this Mary wps a traitor to she. 26 602 ECCENTRIC AND NONDESClilPT, " Mrs. Roney, Mrs. Roney, I feel very ill ; Will you jest step to the doctor's for to fetch me a pill ?" " That I wHl, my pore Mary," Mrs. Roney says she : And she goes off to the doctor's as quickly as may be. No sooner on this message Mrs. Roney was sped, Than hup gits vicked Mary, and jumps out a bed ; She hopens all the trunks without never a key — She bustes all the boxes, and vith them makes free. Mrs. Roney's best hnning gownds, petticoats, and close, Her children's little coats and things, her boots and her hose, She packed them, and she stole 'em, and avay vith them did flee Mrs. Roney's situation — you may tliink vat it vould be ! Of Mary, ungrateful, who had served her tliis vay, Mrs. Roney heard nothink for a long year and a day. Till last Thursday, in Lambeth, ven whom should she see ? But this Mary, as had acted so ungrateful to she. She was leaning on the helbo of a worthy young man ; They were going to be married, and were waUcin hand in hand ; And the church-bells was a ringing for Mary and he, And the parson was ready, and a waitin' for his fee. When up comes Mrs. Roney, and faces Mary Brown, Who trembles, and castes her eyes upon the ground. She calls a jolly pleaseman, it happens to be me ; I charge tliis young woman, Mr. Pleaseman, says she. Mrs. Roney, o, Mrs. Roney, o, do let me go, I acted most ungrateful I own, and I know. But the marriage beU is a ringin, and the ring you may see^ And this young man is a waitin, says Mary, says ^e. I don't care three far dens for the parson and dark. And the beU may keep ringing from noon day to dark. Mary Brown, Mary Brown, you must come along with me. And I think this young man is lucky to be free. So, in spite o*' the tears which bejewed Mary's cheek, I took that young gurl to A'Beckett the Beak ; That exlent justice demanded her plea — But never a suUable said Mary said she. ECCENTRIC AND NONDESCRIPT, 603 On account of her condiick so base and so vile, That wicked young g-url is committed for trile, And if she 's transpawted beyond the salt sea, It 's a proper reward for such willians as she. Now, you young gurls of South wark for Mary who veep, From pickin and stealin your ands you must keep, Or it may be my dooty, as it was Thursday veek To puU you all hup to A'Beckett the Beak. Pleaceman X THE BALLAD OF ELIZA DAVIS. W. MAKEPEACE THACKERAY. Galliant gents and lovely ladies, List a tail vich late befel, Vich I heard it, bein on duty, At the Pleace Hoffice, Clerkenwell Praps you know the Fondling Chapel, Vere the Httie children sings : (Lor 1 I likes to hear on Sundies Them there pooty Httle things !) In this street there hved a housemaid. If you particklarly ask me where — Vy, it was at four-and-tventy, Guilford Street, by Brunsvick Square. Yich her name was Eliza Davis, And she went to fetch the beer : In the street she met a party As was quite surprized to see her. Vich he vas a British Sailor, For to judge him by his look : Tarry jacket, canvas trowsies, Ha-la Mr. T. P. Cooke. Presently this Mann accostes Of this hinnocent young gal — Pray, saysee. Excuse my freedom, You 're so Hke my Sister Sal 1 604 ECCENTRIC AND NONDESCRIPT, You 're so like my Sister Sally, Both in valk and face and size ; Miss, that — dang my old lee scuppers, It brings tears into my hyes I I 'm a mate on board a wessel, I 'm a sailor bold anc^ true ; Shiver up my poor old timbers, Let me be a mate for you ! What 's your name, my beauty, tell me ? And she faintly hansers, " Lore, Sir, my name 's Eliza Davis, And I Hve at tventy-four." Hofttimes came this British seaman, This deluded gal to meet : And at tventy-four was welcome, Tventy-four in Guilford Street. And Eliza told her Master (Kinder they than Missuses are), How in marridge he had ast her. Like a galliant Brittish Tar. And he brought his landlady vith him (Yich vas all his hartful plan), And she told how Charley Thompson Reely was a good young man. And how she herself had hved in Many years of union sweet, Vith a gent she met promiskous, Valkin in the pubhc street. And Eliza hstened to them, And she thought that soon their bands Vould be published at the Fondhn. Hand the clergyman jine their ands. And he ast about the lodgers (Yich her master let some rooms), Likevise vere they kep their things, and Vere her master kep his spoons. ECCENTRIC AND NONDESCRITT. 606 Hand this vicked Charley Thompson Came on Sundy veek to see her, And he sent Eliza Davis Hout to vetch a pint of beer. Hand while poor Eliza vent to Eetch the beer, dewoid of sin, This etrocious Charley Thompson Let his wile accompUsh liin. To the lodgers, their apartments, This abandingd female goes. Prigs their shirts and umberellas : Prigs their boots, and hats, and clothes. Vile the scoundrle Charley Thompson, Lest liis wictim should escape, Hocust her vith rum and vater. Like a fiend in burning shape. But a hi was fixt upon 'em Vich these raskles Uttle sore ; Namely, Mr, Hide, the landlord Of the house at tventy-four. He vas valkin in his garden, Just afore he vent to sup ; And on looking up he sor the Lodger's vinders hghted hup. Hup the stau^s the landlord tumbled ; Something 's going wrong, he said ; And he caught the vicked voman Underneath the lodger's bed. And he called a brother Pleaseman, Yich vas passing on his beat. Like a true and galHant feUer, Hup and down ui Guildford Street, And that Pleaseman, able-bodied, Took this voman to the cell ; To the cell vere she was quodded, In the Close of ClerkenweU. 606 ECCENTRIC AND NONDESCRIPT. And though vicked Charley ThompsoD Boulted like a miscrant base, Presently another Pleaseman Took liim to the self-same place. Axid this precious pair of raskles Tuesday last came up for doom j By the beak they was committed, Vich his name was Mr. Combe. Has for poor Eliza Davis, Simple gurl of tventy-four. She, I ope, will never listen In the streets to sailors moar. But if she must ave a sweet-art (Vich most every gurl expex), Let her take a jolly Pleaseman, Vich is name peraps is — ^X. LINES ON A LATE HOSPICIOUS EWENT.* BY A GENTLEMAN OF THE FOOT-GUARDS (bLUE). W. MAKEPEACE TEEACKERAT. I PACED upon my beat "With steady step and slow. All huppandownd of Ranelagh-street ; Ran'lagh, St. Pimlico. While marching huppandownd Upon that fair May morn, Beold the booming cannings sound, A royal child is born ! The Ministers of State Then presnly I sor, They gallops to the Pallis gate, In carridges and for. • The birth of Prince Arthur. ECCEJ^TKIC AND NONDESCRIPT. 007 With anxious looks intent, BefoT-e the gate they stop, There .omes the good Lord President, And there the Arclibishopp. Lord John he next ehghts ; And who comes here in haste ? 'Tis the ero of one underd fights, The caudle for to taste. Then Mrs. Lily, the nuss. Toward them steps with joy ; Says the brave old Duke, " Come tell to us, Is it a gal or a boy ?" Says Mrs. L. to the Duke, " Tour G-race, it is a Prince'^ And at that nuss's bold rebuke. He did both laugh and wince. He vews with pleasant look This pooty flower of May, Then says the wenerable Duke, " Egad, its my buthday." By memory backards borne, Peraps his thoughts did stray To that old place where he was bom Upon the first of May. Peraps he did recal The ancient towers of Trim ; And County Meath and Dangan Hall They did rewisit him. I phansy of him so His good old thoughts employin ; Fourscore years and one ago Beside the flowin' Boyne. His father praps he sees. Most musicle of Lords, A playing maddrigles and glees Upon the Arpsicords. 608 ECCENTKIC AND NOXDESClClPT. Jest phansy this old Ero Upon his mother's knee 1 Did ever lady in this laud Ave greater sons than she ? And I shouldn be surprise While this was in his mind, If a drop there twinkled in his eyes Of unfamiliar brind. To Hapsly Ouse next day Drives up a Broosh and for, A gracious prince sits in that Shay (I mention him with Hor !) They ring upon the bell, The Porter shows his ed, (He fought at Vaterloo as veil, And vears a veskit red.) To see that carriage come The people round it press : " And is the galHant Duke at ome 7* " Your Royal Ighness, yes." He stepps from out the Broosh And in the gate is gone, And X, although the people push, Says wery kind '' Move horu* The Royal Prince unto The galliant Duke did say, "Dear Duke, my httle son and you Was born the self-same day. " The lady of the land, My wife and Sovring dear, It is by her horgust command I wait upon you here. " That lady is as well As can expected be ; ECCENTRIC AND NONDESCRIPT. 009 And to your Grace she bid me tell This gracious message free. " That offspring of our race, Whom yesterday you see, To show our honor for your Grace, Prince Arthur he shall be. " That name it rhymes to fame ; All Europe knows the sound : • And I could n't find a better name If you 'd give me twenty pound. " King Arthur had his knights That girt his table round, But you have won a hundred fights, Will match 'em, I '11 be bound. " You fought with Bonypart, And Ukewise Tippoo Saib ; I name you then, with all my hearty The Godshe of this babe." That Prince his leave was took, His hinterview was done. So let us give the good old Duke Good luck of his god-son, And wish iiim years of joy In this our time of Schism, And hope he'U hear the royal boy His Httle catechism. And my pooty little Prince That's come our arts to cheer, Let me my loyal powers ewince A welcomin of you ere. And the Poit-Laureat's crownd, I think, in some respex, Egstremely shootable might be found For honest Pleaseman X. 610 ECCENTRIC AND NONDESCKIPT. THE LAMENTABLE BALLAD OF THE FOUNDLING OF SHOREDITCH. W. MAKEPEACE THACKERAY. Come, all ye Christian people, and listen to my tail, It is all about a Doctor was traveling by the rail, By the Heastem Counties Railway (vich the shares don't desire), From Ixworth town in Suffolk, vich his name did not transpire. A traveling from Bury this Doctor was employed With a gentleman, a friend of his, vich his name was Captain Loyd; And on reaching Marks Tey Station, that is next beyond Colchest- er, a lady entered into them most elegantly dressed. She entered into the carriage all with a tottering step. And a pooty little Bayby upon her bussum slep ; The gentlemen received her with kindness and siwiUaty, Pitying this lady for her illness and debillaty. She had a fust-class ticket, this lovely lady said, Because it was so lonesome she took a secknd instead. Better to travel by secknd class than sit alone in the fust, And the pooty little Baby upon her breast she nust. A seein of her cryin, and shiverin and pail. To her spoke this surging, the Ero of my tail ; Saysee you look unwell, ma'am, I'll elp you if I can, And you may tell your case to me, for I 'm a meddicle matt " Thank you, sir," the lady said, " I only look so pale. Because I ain't accustom'd to traveling on the rale ; I shall be better presnly, when I 've ad some rest :" A.nd that pooty little Baby she sque* iged it to her breast. So in conwersation the journey they beguiled, Capting Loyd and the medical man, and the lady and the child, Tin the warious stations along the line was passed, For even the Heastern Counties' trains must come in at last When at Shoreditch tumminus at lenth stopped the train, This kind meddicle gentleman proposed his aid again. ECCENTRIC AND NONDESCRIPT 611 " Thank you, sir," the lady said, "for your kyindness dear; My carridge and my osses is probbibly come here. " Will you Old this baby, please, vilst I step and see ?" The Doctor was a famly man : " That I will," says he. Then the Httle child she kist, kist it very gently, Vich was sucking his httle fist, sleeping innocently. With a sigh from her art, as though she would have bust it, Then she gave the Doctor the cliild — wery kind he nust it ; Hup then the lady jumped hoff the bench she sat from, Tumbled down the carridge steps and ran along the platform. Vile hall the other passengers vent upon their vays. The Cap ting and the Doctor sat there in a maze ; Some vent in a Homminibus, some vent in a Cabby, The Capting and the Doctor vaited with the babby. There they sat looking queer, for an hour or more, But their feller passinger neather on 'em sore : Never, never back again did that lady come To that pooty sleeping Hinfant a suckin of his Thum I What could this pore Doctor do, bein treated thus. When the darling baby woke, cry in for its nuss ? Off he drove to a female friend, vich she was both kind and mild, And igsplained to her the circumstance of this year httle child. That kind lady took the child instantly in her lap. And made it very comforable by giving it some pap ; And when she took its close off, what d' you tliink she found ? A couple of ten pun notes sown up, in its httle gownd I Also, in its little close, was a note which did conwey. That this httle baby's parents lived in a handsome way : And for its Headucation they reglary would pay, A nd sirtingly hke gentle-folks would claim the child one day, If the Christian people who 'd charge of it would say, Per adwertisement in the Times, where the baby lay. Pity of this bayby many people took, It had such pooty ways and such a pooty look ; And there came a lady forrard (I wish that I could see Any kind lady as would do as much for me , 612 ECCENTRIC AND NONDESCKIPI And I wish with all my art, some night in my night gownd, I could find a note stitched for ten or twenty pound) — There came a lady forrard, that most honorable did say, She 'd adopt this httle baby, which her parents cast away. While the Doctor pondered on this hoffer fair. Comes a letter fi-om Devonshire, from a party there, Hordering the Doctor, at its Mar's desire, To send the httle infant back to De vonshire. Lost in apoplexity, this pore meddicle man, Like a sensable gentleman, to the Justice ran ; Which his name was Mr. Hammill, a honorable beak. That takes his seat in Worship-street four times a week. " Justice !" says the Doctor, " Instrugt me what to do, I 've come up from the country, to throw myself on you ; My patients have no doctor to tend them in their ills, (There they are in Suffolk without their draflfts and pills I) " I 've come up from the country, to know how I 'U dispose Of tliis pore Httle baby, and the twenty -pun note, and the clothes, And I want to go back to Suifolk, dear Justice, if you please. And my patients wants their Doctor, and their Doctor wants his feez." Up spoke Mr. Hammill, sittin at liis desk, " This year application does me much perplesk ; What I do adwise you, is to leave this babby In the Parish where it was left, by its mother shabby." The Doctor from his Worship sadly did depart — He might have left the baby, but he had n't got the heart To go for to leave that Hinnocent, has the laws allows, To the tender mussies of the U lion House. Mother, who left this Httle one on a stranger's knee. Think how cruel you have been, and how good was he 1 Think, if you 've been guilty, innocent was she ; And do not take unkindly this Httle word of me : Heaven be merciful to us all, sinners as we be ! Pleaceman X BCCENTRIC AND NONDESCRIPT. . 618 THE CRYSTAL PALACE. W. MAKEPEACE THACKEEAT. With ganial foire Thransfuse me loyre, Ye sacred nymphths of Pindus, The whoile I sing That wondthrous thing The Palace made o' windows 1 Say, Paxton, truth, Thou wondthrous youth, What sthroke of art ceHstial What power was Knt You to invint This combineetion cristiaL would before That Thomas Moore Likewoise the late Lord Boyron, Thim aigles sthrong Of Grodlike song. Cast oi on that cast oiron I And saw thim walls, And glittering halls, Thim rising slendther columns, Which I, poor pote. Could not denote, No, not in twinty vollums. My Muse's words Is like the birds That roosts beneath the panes there J Her wings she spoils 'Gainst them bright toiles, And cracks her silly brains there. This Palace tall, This Cristial Hall, Which imperors might covet, 614- ECCENTEIC AHJ-D NONDESCRIPT. Stands in Hide Park Like Noah's Ark A rainbow bint above it. The towers and faynes, In other scaynes, The fame of tliis will undo, Saint Paul's big doom, St. Payther's Eoom, And Dublin's proud Kotunda 'Tis here that roams, As well becomes Her dignitee and stations, Victoria great, And houlds in state The Congress of the Nations, Her subjects pours From distant shores. Her Injians and Canajians ; And also we, Her kingdoms three, Attind with our allagiance. Here comes likewise Her bould allies, Both Asian and Europian ; From East and West They sent their best To fill her Coornocopean. I seen (thank Grace !) This wondthrous place (His Noble Honor Misteer H. Cole it was That gave the pass. And let me see what is there.) With conscious proide I stud insoide And look'd the World's Great Fair ia, ECCENTEIC AND NONDESCRIPl 616 Until me sight Was dazzled quite, And couldn't see for staring. There 's holy saints And window paints, By Maydiayval Pugin ; Alhamborough Jones Did paint the tones Of yellow and gambouge in. There 's fountains there And crosses fair ; There's water-gods with urrns; There 's organs three, To play, d' ye see, " Gk>d save the Queen," by tuma. There 's statues bright Of marble white. Of sUver and of copper, And some in zink, And some, I think, That isn't over proper. There 's staym Ingynes, That stand in Unes, Enormous and amazing, That squeal and snort, Like whales in sport, Or elephants a-grazing. There 's carts and gigs, And pins for pigs ; There 's dibblers and there 's harrowa^ And plows like toys. For httle boys. And iUegant wheel-barrows. For them genteels Who ride on wheels, There 's plenty to indulge 'em, 616 ECCENTEIC AND NONDESCRIPT. There 's Droskys snug From Paytersbug And vayhycles from Belgium, There 's Cabs on Stands, And Shandthry danns ; There 's wagons from New York here ; There 's Lapland Sleighs, Have cross' d the seas, And Jaunting Cars from Cork here. Amazed I pass From glass to glass, Deloighted I survey 'em ; Fresh wondthers grows Beneath me nose In this sublime Musayum. Look, here 's a fan From far Japan, A saber from Damasco ; There 's shawls ye get From far Thibet, And cotton prints from Griasgow. There 's Grerman flutes, Marocky boots, And Naples Macaronies ; Bohaymia Has sent Bohay, Polonia her polonies. There's granite flints That 's quite imminse. There 's sacks of coals and fiiels, There 's swords and guns, And soap in tuns, And Ginger-bread and Jewels. There 's taypots there, And cannons rare ; There 's cofiSns filled with rosea - ECCENTRIC AND NONDESCKIPT. 61' There 's canvas tints, Teeth instruments, And shuits of clothes by MosES. There 's lashins more Of tilings in store, But thim I don't remimber ; Nor could disclose Did I compose From May time to Novimber. Ah, Judy thru I With eyes so blue. That you were here to view it I And could I screw But tu pound tu 'Tis I would thrait you to it So let us raise Victoria's praise, And Albert's proud condition, That takes his ayse As he surveys This Crystal Exhibition. THE SPECULATORS. W. MAKEPEACE THACKERAY. The night was stormy and dark, The town was shut up in sleep : Only those were abroad who were out on a lark. Or those who 'd no beds to keep. I pass'd through the lonely street. The wind did sing and blow ; I could hear the pohceman's feet Clapping to and fro. There stood a potato-man In the midst of all the wet ; He stood witii his 'tato-can In the lonely Haymarket. Two gents of dismal mien. And dark and greasy rags, Came out of a shop for gin. Swaggering over the flags : 618 ECCENTRIC AND NONDESCKIPT. Swaggering over the stones, These shabby bucks did walk ; And I went and followed those seedy ones, And hstened to their talk. Was I sober or awake ? Could I beheve my ears ? Those dismal beggars spake Of nothing but railroad shares. 1 wondered more and more: Says one — '*Grood friend of mine, How many shares have you wrote for In the Diddle- 36' Junction line ?" " I wrote for twenty," says Jim, " But they wouldn't give me one ;" His comrade straight rebuked him For the folly he had done : " Jim, you are unawares Of the ways of this bad town ; / always write for five hundred shares, And then they put me down." " And yet you got no shares," Says Jim, " for all your boast ;" " I would have wrote," says Jack, " but where Was the penny to pay the post ?" " I lost, for I could n't pay That first instalment up ; But here 's taters smoking hot — I say Let 's stop, my boy, and sup." And at this simple feast The while they did regale, I drew each ragged capitalist Down on my left thumb-nail. Their talk did me perplex. All night I tumbled and toss'd And thought of railroad specs. And how money was won and lost " Bless railroads everywhere," I said, " and the world's advance ; Bless every railroad share In Italy, Ireland, France ; For never a beggar need now despair. And every rogue has a chance." ECCENTRIC AND NONDESCRIPT. 619 LETTER FROM MR. HOSEA BIGLOW TO THE HON. J. T. BUCKINGHAM, EDITOR OF THE BOSTON COURIER, COVERING A LETTER FROM MR. B. SAW- IN, PRIVATE IN THE MASSACHUSETTS REGIMENT IN MEXICO. JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL. MiSTEK BucKimrM, the follerin Billet was writ hum by a Yung feller of oi.r town that wuz cussed fool enuflf to goe atrottin inter Miss Chiff arter a Dnm and fife, it aiu' t Nater for a feller to let on that he ' s sick o' any bizness that He went iutu oflf his own free will and a Cord, but I rather cal'late he's middlin tired o' volunteai-in By this Time. I bleeve u may put dependunts on his state- mence. For I never heered nothiu bad on him let Alone his havin what Parson Wilbur cals a po-iignhong for cocktales, and he ses it wuz a soshiashun of idees sot him agoin arter the Crootiu Sargient cos he wore a cocktale onto his hat. his Folks gin the letter to me and i shew it to parson Wilbur and he ses it oughter Bee printed, send It to mister Euckinum, ses he, i don't oilers agree with him, ses he, but by Time, says he, I du like a feller that ain't a Feared. I have intusspussed a Few refleckshuns hear and thair. We're kind o' prest With Hayin. Ewers respecfly HOSEA BIGLOW. Tms kind o' sogerin' aint, a mite like our October trainin', A chap coukl clear right out from there ef 't only looked like rainin'. An' th' Cunnles, tu, could kiver up their shappoes with ban- danners, An' send the insines skootin' to the bar-room with their banners, (Fear o' gittin' on 'em spotted), an' a feller could cry quarter Ef he fired away his ramrod arter tu much rum an' water. Recollect wut fan we hed, you 'n I an' Ezry Hollis, Up there to Waltham plain last fall, ahavin' the Cornwallis ?* Tliis sort o' thifig aint jest like thet — ^I wish thet I wuz furder — | Nimepunce a day fer killin' folks comes kind o' low fer murder (Wy I 've worked out to slarterin' some for Deacon Cephas Billins, An' in the hardest times there wuz I oilers tetched ten shiLLns), There 's sutthin' gits into my throat thet makes it hard to swaller. It comes so nateral to think about a hempen collar ; It 's glory — but, in spit;e o' aU my tryin xo git callous, I feel a kind o' in a cart, aridin' to the gallus. * i halt the Site of a feller with a muskit as I dr pizn But their is fun to a coruwallis I ain't agoin to deny it. — H. B. t he means Not quite so fur i guess. — H. B. 620 ECCENTRIC AND NONDESCRIPT. But when it comes to hein killed — I tell ye I felt streaked The fust time ever I found out wy baggonets wuz peaked , Here 's how it wuz : I started out to go to a fandango, The sentinul he ups an' sez, " Thet 's furder 'an you can go " " None o' your sarse," sez I ; sez he, " Stan' back !" " Aint you a buster ?" Sez I, " I 'm up to all thet air, I guess I 've ben to muster; I know wy sentinuls air sot ; you aint agoin' to eat us ; Caleb haint no monopoly to court the seenoreetas ; My folks to hum air full ez good ez hisn be, by golly!" An' so ez I wuz goin' by, not thinkin' wut would folly, The everlastin' cus he stuck his one-pronged pitchfork in me An' made a hole right thru my close ez ef I wuz an in'my. Wal, it beats all how big I felt hoorawin' in ole Funnel Wen Mister BoUes he gin the sword to our Leftenant Cunnle (It 's Mister Secondary Bolles,* thet writ the prize peace essa^ ; Thet's wy he didn't list himself along o' us, I dessay), An' Rantoul, tu, talked pooty loud, but don't put his foot in it, Coz human hfe 's so sacred thet he 's principled agin' it — Though I myself can 't rightly see it 's any wus achokin' on 'em Than puttin' bullets thru their lights, or with a bagnet pokin' on 'em; How drefifle shck he reeled it off (like Blitz at our lyceum Ahaulin' ribbins from his chops so quick you skeercely see 'em), About the Anglo-Saxon race (an' saxons would be handy To do the buryin' down here upon the Rio Grandy), About our patriotic pas an' our star-spangled banner. Our country's bird alookin' on an' singin' out hosanner, An' how he (Mister B himself) wuz happy fer Ameriky — I felt, ez sister Patience sez, a leetle mite histericky. I felt, I swon, ez though it wuz a dreffie kind o' privilege Atrampin' round thru Boston streets among the gutter s drive- lage ; I act'lly thought it wuz a treat to hear a little drummin , An' it did bonyfidy seem millanyura wuz acomin' Wen all on us got suits (darned hke them wore in the state prison) An' every feller felt ez though all Mexico wuz liisn.t • the igtierant creeter means Sekketary ; but he oilers stuck to his books like cobbler's wax to an ile-stone. — H. B. t it must be aloud that thare's a streak o' nater in lovin' sho, but it sartinly ia t of the curusest things in nater to see a rispecktable dri goods dealer (deekon ECCENTRIC AND NONDESCRIPT. 621 This 'ere 's about the meanest place a skunk could wal diskiver (Saltillo *s Mexican, I b'lieve, fer wut we call Saltriver). The sort o' trash a feller gits to eat doos beat all nater, I 'd give a year's pay fer a smell o' one good bluenose tater ; The country here thet Mister BoUes declared to be so charmin' Throughout is swarmin' with the most alarmin' kind o' varmin'. He talked about dehshis froots, but then it wuz a wopper all, The hoi' on't 's mud an' prickly pears, with here an' there a ^happaral ; Tou see a Teller peekin' out, an', fust you know, a lariat Is round your throat en' you a copse, 'fore you can say, " Wut air ye at ?"* You never see sech darned gret bugs (it may not be irrelevant To say I 've seen a scarabceus pilularius t big ez a year old ele- phant). The rigiment come up one day in time to stop a red bug From runnin' off with Cunnle Wright — 'twuz jest a common cimex ledularius. One night I started up on eend an' thought I wuz to hum agin, I heern a horn, thinks I it 's Sol the fisherman hez come agin, His bellowses is sound enough — ez I 'm a hvin' creeter, I felt a tiling go thru my leg — 't wuz nothin' more 'n a skeeter ! Then there 's the yaller fever, tu, they call it here el vomito — (Come, thet wun't du, you landcrab there, I tell ye to le' go my toe! My gracious ! it 's a scorpion thet 's took a shine to play with 't, I dars n't skeer the tarnal thing fer fear he 'd run away with 't). Afore I come away from hum I hed a strong persuasion Thet Mexicans worn't human beansf — an ourang outang nation, A sort o' folks a chap could kill an' never dream on 't arter, No more 'n a feller 'd dream o' pigs thet he hed hed to slarter ; off a chutch mayhy) a riggin' himself out ia the "Weigh they du and struttin' roand in the Eeign aspilin' his trowsis and makin' wet goods of himself. E fany thin's foolisher aad moor dicklus than militerry gloary it is milishy gloary. — H. B. • these fellers are verry proppilly called Rank Heroes, and the more tha kill the ranker and more Herowick tha bokum. — H. B. t it -wuz " tumblebug" as he Writ i^, hut the parson put the Latten instid. i sed tother maid better meeter, but he said tha was eddykated peepl to Boston and tha would n't stan' it no how. idnow as tha -oood and idnow as tha wood. — H. B. % he means human beins, that's wut he meauK. i spose he kinder thought tha yr\z human beans ware the Xisle Poles comes from. — H. B. 022 ECCENTRIC AND NONDESCKIPT. I 'd an idee thet they were built arter the darkie fashion all, An' kickin' colored folks about, you know, 's a kind o' national ; But when I jined I worn't so wise ez thet air queen o' Sheby, Fer, come to look at 'em, they aint much diif'rent from wut we be, An' here we air ascrougin' 'em out o' thir own dominions, Ashelterin' 'em, ez Caleb sez, under our eagle's pinions, Wich meaas to take a feller up jest by the slack o' 's trowsis An' walk him Spanish clean right out o' all his homes an' houses ; Wal, it doos seem a curus way, but then hooraw fer Jackson ! It must be right, fer Caleb sez it 's reg'lar Anglo-saxon, The Mex'cans don't fight fair, they say, they piz'n all the water, An' du amazin' lots o' things thet is n't wut they ough' ter ; Bein' they haint no lead, they make their bullets out o' copper An' shoot the darned things at us, tu, which Caleb sez aint proper j He sez they 'd ough' to stan' right up an' let us pop 'em fairly (Guess wen he ketches 'em at thet he '11 hev to git up airly), Thet our nation 's bigger 'n theirn an' so its rights air bigger, An' thet it 's all to make 'em free that we air pullin' trigger, Thet Anglo Saxondom's idee 's abreakin' 'em to pieces. An' thet idee 's thet every man doos jest wut he damn pleases ; Ef I don't make his meanin' clear, perhaps in some respex I can, I know that " every man" don't mean a nigger or a Mexican ; An' there 's another thing I know, an' thet is, ef these creeturs, Thet stick an Anglo-saxon mask onto State-prison feeturs. Should come to Jaalam Center fer to argify an' spout on 't. The gals 'ould count the silver spoons the minnit they cleared out on 't This goin' ware glory waits ye haint one agreeable feetur. An' ef it worn't fer wakin' snakes, I 'd home agin short meter; 0, would n't I be off, quick time, ef 't worn't thet I wuz sartin They 'd let the daylight into me to pay me fer desartin I I don't approve o' tellin' tales, but jest to you I may state Our ossifers aint wut they wuz afore they left the Baystate * Then it wuz " Mister Sawin, sir, you 're middlin' well now, be ye ? Step up an' take a nipper, sir ; I 'm drefiSe glad to see ye ;" But now it' s " Ware 's my eppylet ? here, Sawin, step an fetch it ! An' minii your eye, be thund'rin' spry, or, damn ye, you shaK ketch it!" Wal, ez the Doctor sez, some pork will bile so, but by mighty, Ef I hed somo on 'em to hum, I 'd give 'em hnkum vity, ECCENTKIC AND NONDESCEIPT. 623 I 'd play the rogue's march on their hides an' other music fol- lerin' But I must close my letter here, for one on 'em 's a-hollerin', These Anglosaxon ossifers — wal, taint no use ajawin', I 'm safe enlisted fer the war, Yourn, BiRDOFREDOM SaWIN A LETTER FROM A CANDIDATE FOR THE PRESIDENCY IN AVTiWER TO SUTTIN QUESTIONS PROPOSED BY MR. HOSEA BIGLOW, INCLOSED IN A NOTE FROM MR. BIGLOW TO S. H. GAY, ESQ., EDITOR 01)' THE NATIONAL ANTI-SLAVERY STANDARD. JAMES RUriSELL LOV^'ELL. SiE its gut to be the fashun now to rite letters to the candid 8s and 1 wup chose at a public Meetin in Jalaam to du wut wus nessary fur that town, i writ to 271 ginerals and gut ansers to 209. tha air called can lid 8s but I don't see nothin candid about em. this here 1 which I send wus thought satty's factory. I dunno as it's ushle to print Poscrips, but as all the ansers I got bed the saim, I sposed it wus best, times has gretly changed. Formal7 to knock a man into a cocked hat wus to use him up, but now it ony gives him a chance fur the cheef tuadgustracy. — H. B. Dear Sir — You wish to know my notions On sartin pints thet rile the land ; There 's notliin' thet my natur so shuc Ez bein' mum or underhand ; I 'm a straight-spoken kind o' cieetur Thet blurts right out wut's ii. his head, An' ef I 've one pecooler feetui, It is a nose thet wunt be le^. SO; to begin at the beginnin' ; An' come directly to the pint, I think the country's underpinnin' Is some consid'ble out o' jint ; I aint agoin' to try your patience By teUin' who done this or thet, ] don't make no insiQOo&tions, I jest let on I ai^^ih u rat. 624 ECCENTRIC AND NONDESCP.IP' Thet iSj I mean, it seems to me so, But, ef the public think I 'm wrong, I wunt deny but wut I be so — An', fact, it don't smell very strong ; My mind 's tu fair to lose its balance An' say wich party hez most sense ; There may be folks o' greater talence Thet can't set stiddier on the fence. I 'm an eclectic : ez to choosin' 'Twixt this an' thet, I 'm plaguy lawth ; I leave a side thet looks like losin', But (wile there 's doubt) I stick to both ; I Stan' upon the Constitution, Ez preudunt statesmun say, who 've planned A way to git the most profusion 0' chances ez to ware they '11 stand. Ez fer the war, I go agin it — I mean to say I kind o' du — Thet is, I mean thet, bein' in it. The best way wuz to fight it thru ; Not but wut abstract war is horrid, I sign to thet with all my heart — But civlyzation doos git forrid Sometimes upon a powder-cart. About thet darned Proviso matter I never hed a grain o' doubt. Nor I aint one my sense to scatter So 's no one could n't pick it out ; My love fer North an' South is equil, So I '11 just answer plump an' frank, No matter wut may be the sequil — Yes, sir, I am agin a Bank. Ez to the answerin' o' questions, I 'am an off ox at bein' druv. Though I aint one thet ary test shuns '11 give our folks a helpin' shove ; ECCJENTRIC AND NOXDESCHIPT. 628 Kind o' promiscoous I go it Fer the holl country, an' the. ground I take, ez nigh ez I can show it, Is pooty gen'ally all round. I don't appruve o' givin' pledges ; You 'd ough' to leave a feller free, An' not go knockin' out the wedges To ketch his fingers in the tree ; Pledges air awfle breachy cattle Thet preudent farmers don't turn out— Ez long 'z the people git their rattle, Wut is there fer 'm to grout about ? Ez to the slaves, there 's no confusion In my idees consarnin' them — / think they air an Institution, A sort of — yes, jest so — ahem: Do / own any ? Of my merit On thet pint you yourself may jedge ; All is, I never drink no sperit. Nor I haint never signed no pledge. Ez to my principles, I glory In he^-in' nothin' o' the sort ; I aint a Wig, I aint a Tory, I 'm jest a candidate, in short ; Thet 's fair an' square an' parpendicler, But, ef the PubUc cares a fig To hev me an' tliin' in particler. Wy, I 'm a kind o' peri-wig. P. S. Ez we 're a sort o' privateerin', 0' course, you know, it 's sheer an' sh-jer, An' there is sutthin' wuth your hearin' I 'U mention in your privit ear ; Ef you git me inside the "VMiite House, Your head with ile I '11 kin' o' 'nint By git';n' you inside the Light-house Down to the eend o' Jaalam Pint 27 626 ECCENTRIC AND NONDESCRIPT. An' ez the North hez took to brustlin' At bein' scrouged frum off the roost, I '11 tell ye wut '11 save all tussHn' An' give our side a harnsome boost — Tell 'em thet on the Slavery question I 'm RIGHT, although to speak I 'm lavrth ; This gives you a safe pint to rest on, An' leaves me frontin' South by North. THE CANDIDATE'S CREED. (biglow papers.) james russell lowell. I DU believe in Freedom's cause, Ez fur away ez Paris is ; I love to see her stick her claws In them infarnal Pharisees ; It 's wal enough agin a king To dror resolves and triggers, — But hbbaty 's a kind o' thing Thet don't agree with niggers. I du believe the people want A tax on teas and coffees, Thet nothin' aint extravygunt, — Purvidin' I 'm in office ; For I hev loved my country sence My eye-teeth filled their sockets, An' Uncle Sam I reverence, Partic'larly his pockets. I du beheve in any plan 0' levyin' the taxes, Ez long ez, like a lumberman, I git jest wut I axes : I go free-trade thru thick an' thin, Because it kind o' rouses The folks to vote — ^and keep us in Our quiet cup*-om-houses. ECCENIKIC AND NONDESCRIPT. 627 I du believe it 's wise an' good To sen' out furrin missions, Thet is, on sartin understood An' orthydox conditions ;— I mean nine thousan' dolls, per ann., Nine thousan' more fer outfit, » An' me to recommend a man The place 'ould jest about fi.t. I du believe in special ways 0' prayin' an' convartin' ; The bread comes back in many days, An' buttered, tu, fer sartin ; — I mean in preyin' till one busts On wut the party chooses, An' in convartin' pubUc trusts To very privit uses. I do believe hard coin the stuff Fer 'lectioneers to spout on ; The people 's oilers soft enough To make hard money out on ; Dear Uncle Sam pervides fer his, An' gives a good-sized junk to all— I don't care how hard money is, Ez long ez mine 's paid punctooaL I du believe with all my soul In the gret Press's freedom, To pint the people to the goal An' in the traces lead 'em : Palsied the arm thet forges yokes At my fat contracts squintin', An' withered be the nose thet pokes Inter the gov'ment printin' 1 I du believe thet I should give Wut 's his'n unto Caesar, Fer it 's by him I move an' live, From bdm my bread an' cheese ail' 628 ECCENTRIC AND N0N1ESCEIPT< I du believe thet all o' me Doth bear his souperscription,^ — Will, conscience, honor, honesty, An' things o' thet description. I du believe in prayer an' praise To him thet hez the grantin' 0' jobs — in every thin' thet pays, But most of all in Cantin' ; This doth my cup with marcies fill, This lays all thought o' sin to I dorCt believe in princerple. But, 0, I du in interest. I du believe in bein' this Or thet, ez it may happen One way, or t' other hendiest is To ketch the people nappin' ; It aint by princerples nor men My preudent course is steadied— I scent wich pays the best, an' then Gro into it baldheaded. I du believe thet holdin' slaves Comes nat'ral tu a President, Let 'lone the rowdedow it saves To have a wal-broke precedunt ; Far any office, small or gret, I could 'nt ax with no face. Without I 'd been, thru dry an' wet, The unrizziest kind o' doughface. I du believe wnitever trash '11 keep the people in bUndness, — Thet we the Mexicans can thrash Right inter brv^therly kindness — Thet bombshells, grape, an' powder 'n' ball Air good-will's strongest magnets — Thet peace, to make it stick at all, Must be druv in wdth bagnets. BCCENTRIC AND NONDESCRIPT. 629 In short, I firmly du believe In Humbug generally, Fer it 's a thing thet I perceive To hev a solid vally ; This heth my faithful shepherd ben, In pasturs sweet hetli led me, An' this '11 keep the people green To feed ez they have fed me. THE COURTIN'. JAMES RUSSELL LOWELU Zekle crep' up, quite unbeknown. An' peeked in thru the winder, An there sot Huldy all alone, 'ith no one nigh to hende** Agin' the chimbly crooknecks hung, An' in among 'em rusted The ole queen's arm thet gran'ther Young Fetched back from Concord busted. The wannut logs shot sparkles out Toward the pootiest, bless her I An' leetle fires danced all about The chiny on the dresser. The very room, coz she wuz in. Looked warm frum floor to ceilin'. An' she looked full ez rosy agin Ez th' apple she wuz peehn'. She heerd a foot an' knowd it, tu, Araspm' on the scraper — AU ways to once her feelins flew Like sparks in burnt-up paper. He kin* o' I'itered on the mat. Some doubtfle of the seekle : His heait kep' gom' pitypat, But kern went pity Zekle. 680 BCCENTEIC AND NONDESCEIPT. A SONG FOR A CATARRH. PUNCH By BsiTj Alle is like the su?, WheZ at the dawZ it fli?gs Its goldeZ s&iles of hght upoZ Earth's greeZ and loZely thiZgs. 11 vaiZ I sue, I oZly wiZ Pro& her a scorZful frowZ, But sooZ as I hj prayers begiZ, She cries h ! begoZe, Yes I yes ! the burtheZ of her soZg Is Zo 1 Zo 1 Zo ! beeroZe ! By BsLTj AZZe is like the mooZ, WheZ first her silver sheeZ Awakes the ZightiZgale's soft tuZe, That else had sileZt beeZ. But -Bary AZZe, hke darkest Zight, OZ be, alas ! looks dowZ; Her sJiles oZ others bea& their Hght, Her frowZs are all Z>y owZ. I 've but oZe burtheZ to 6y soZg — Her frowZs are all bj owZ. EPITAPH ON A CANDLE. PUNOH. A wicked one lies buried here, Who died in a decline ; He never rose in rank, I fear, Though he was born to shine. He once was/a<, but now, indeed, He 's thin as any griever ; He died — the Doctors all agreed. Of a most burning fever. ECCENTRIC AND NONDESCRIPT. 63 One thing of him is said with truth, With which I 'm much amused ; It is — that when he stood, forsooth, A stick he always used. Now winding-sheets he sometimes madOj But this was not enough, For finding it a poorish trade, He also dealt in snuff. K e'er you said " Go out, I pray," He much ill nature show'd ; On such occasions he would say, '' Yj, if 1 do, Tm blow' dr In this his friends do all agree. Although you '11 think I 'm joking. When going out 'tis said that he Was very fond of smoking. Since all religion he despised, Let these few words suffice. Before he ever was baptized They dipped him once or twice. POETRY ON AN IMPROVED PRINCIPLE. A RENCONTER WITH A TEA-TOTALLER. PUNGHi On going forth last night, a friend to see, I met a man by trade a s-n-o-& / Reeling along the path he held his way. "Hoi ho!" quoth I, " he 's d-r-u-n-^." Then thus to him — " Were it not better, far, You were a little s-o-b-e-r f 'T were happier for your family, I guess. Than playing of such rum r-i-g-s. Besides, all drunkards, when policemen see 'em, Are taken up at once by t-h-e-m." 632 ECCENTRIC AND NONDESCRIPT. ' Me drunk 1" the cobbler cried; "the devil trouble youl You want to kick up a blest r-o-w;. Now, may I never wish to work for Hoby, If drain I 've had I" (the lying s-n-o-& /) I 've just return'd from a tee-total party, Twelve on us jamm'd in a spring c-a-r-t. The man as lectured, now, was drunk ; why, bless ye, He 's sent home in a c-h-a-i-s-e. He 'd taken so much lush into his belly, I 'm blest if he could t-o-dd-l-e. A pair on 'em — hisself and his good lady ; — The gin had got into her h-e-a-d. (My eye and Betty ! what weak mortals we are ; They said they took but ginger b-e-e-r /) But as for me, I 've stuck ('t was rather ropy) All day to weak imperial p-o-p. And now we 've had this little bit o' sparrin', Just stand a q-u-a-r-t-e-r-n /" ON A REJECTED NOSEGAY, OFFERED BY THE AUTHOR TO A BEAUTIFUL YOUNG LADY, WHO RETURNED IT. PUNCH. What ! then you won't accept it, wont you ? Oh 1 No matter ; pshaw 1 my heart is breaking, though. My bouquet is rejected ; let it be : For what am I to you, or you to me ? 'Tis true I once had hoped ; but now, alas I Well, well ; 'tis over now, and let it pass. I was a fool — perchance I am so still ; You won't accept it ! Let me dream you will : But that were idle. Shall we mee' again ? Why should we ? Water for my burning brain ? I could have loved thee — Could 1 I love thee yet Can only Lethe teach me to forget ? Oblivion's balm, oh tell me where to find ! Is it a tenant of the anguish' d mind ? Or is it ? — ha 1 at last I see it come ; Waiter ! a I ottle of your oldest rum. KOOENTKIO AND NONDESCKIPT, OJH A SERENADE. PUNCH. Smile, lady, smile 1 (Bless me I luhai 's that ? Confound the cat /) — Smile, huly, smile 1 One glance bestow On him who sadly waits below, To catch — {A villain up above Has thrown some ivaier on me, love I) To catch one token — ( Oh, Lord 1 my head is hrohen ; The wretch who threw the ivater down, Has dropped the jug upon my crown) — To catch one token, which shall be As dear as life itself to me. List, lady, then ; while on my lute I breathe soft — (No I FU not he quiet ; How dare you call my serenade a riot f I do defy you) — wliile upon my lute I breathe soft sighs — ( Yes, I dispute Your right to stop me — breathe soft sighs. Grant but one look from those dear eyes — (Tliere, take that stupid noddle in again ; Call the police I — do ! FU prolong my strain), We '11 wander by the river's placid ilow — (Unto the station-house f — No, sir, I luonH go ; Leave me alone !) — and talk of love's delight. (Oh, murder I — help I I'm locked ibj^for the night 1) RAILROAD NURSERY RH\ME. PUNCH. AtE — " Ride a Cock Horse." Fly by steam force the country across, Faster than jockey outside a race-horse : With time bills mismanaged, fast trains after slow, You shall have danger wherever you go. 27* 634 ECCENTRIC AND NONDESCRIPT. AN INVITATION TO THE ZOOLOGICAL GARDENS PUNCH. I HAVE found out a gig-gig-gift for my fuf-fuf-fair, I have found where the rattle-snakes bub-bub-breed ; Will you co-co-come, and I 'II show you the bub-bub-bear, And the lions and tit-tit-tigers at fuf-fuf-feed. I know where the co-co-cockatoo's song Makes mum-mum-melody through the sweet vale ; Where the mum-monkeys gig-gig-grin all the day long Or gracefully swing by the tit-tit-tit-tail. Tou shall pip-pip-play, dear, some did-did-delicate joke With the bub-bub-bear on the tit-tit-top of his pip-pip-pip- pole ; But observe, 'tis forbidden to pip-pip-poke At the bub-bub-bear with your pip-pip-pink pip-pip-pip-pip- parasol ! You shall see the huge elephant pip-pip-play, You shall gig-gig-gaze on the stit-stit-stately racoon ; And then did-did-dear, together we '11 stray To the cage of the bub-bub-blue-faced bab-bab-boon. You wished (I r-r-remember it well, And I lul-lul-loved you the m-m-more for the wish) To witness the bub-bub-beautiful pip-pip-pel- ican swallow the 1-1-ive little fuf-fuf-fish I TO 0E AEAAINr HEPIOAIKAA.* PUNCH. ^(f Ko/nrTiL/ievT, ypear atp, o raKe, Tpe a j3piK av6 vo ficarCKe, 'E.vefXL TO KavT av6 (pvSye. Ti/xe TO dee I ve'ep jSeypvdye, Avd I dire to aee vpe va/ie ^(opefioar tv 0e ?ugt^ o(j) ^a/ne. To/i 2/Liid, Tpv(S orpeer • English words in Greek letters. ECCENTRIC AND NONDESCRIPT. 031 THE PEOPLE AND THEIR PALACE. IMPROVISED BY A FINE GENTLEMAN. puNca Oh dem that absawd Cwystal Palace ! alas, What a pity they took off the duty on glass I It 's having been evaw ewected, in fact, Was en-ti-a-ly owing to that fooUsh act. Wha-evew they put it a cwowd it will dwaw, And that is the weason I think it a baw ; I have no gweat disUke to the building, as sutch ; The People is what I object to sa mutch. The People ! — I weally am sick of the wawd : The People is ugly, unpleasant, absawd ; Wha-evaw they go, it is always the case. They are shaw to destroy all the chawm of the place. Their voices are loud, and their laughter is hawse ; Their featyaws are fabsy, iwegulaw, cause ; How seldom it is that their faces disclose. What one can call, pwopally speaking, a nose I They have dull heavy looks, which appeaw to expwess Disagweeable stwuggles with common distwess ; The People can't dwess, does n't know how to walk. And would uttaly wuin a spot like the Pawk. That I hate the People is maw than I '11 say ; I only would have them kept out of my way, Let them stay at the pot-house, wejoice in the pipe, And wegale upon beeaw, baked patatas, and twipe. We must have the People — of that tha 's no doubt — In shawt they could not be, pahaps, done without. If 'twa not faw the People we could not have Boots. Tha 's no doubt that they exawcise useful pasvits. They are all vewy well in their own pwopa spheeaw, A long distance off; but I don't like them neeaw; 636 ECCENTRIC AND NONDESCRIPT. The slams is the place faw a popula show ; Don't encouwage the people to spoil Wotten Wow. It is odd that the Duke of Awgyll could pasue, So eccentwic a cawse, and Lad Shaftesbuwy too, As to twy and pwesawve the Glass House on its site, Faw no weason on awth but the People's deHght. ^ "SWELL'S" HOMAGE TO MRS. STOWE PUNCH. A MUST wead Uncle Tom — a wawk Which A 'm afwaid 's extwemely slow, People one meets begin to talk Of Mrs. Harwietbeechastowe. 'Tis not as if A saw ha name To walls and windas stiU confined; All that is meawly vulga fame : A don't wespect the pubUc mind. But Staffa'd House has made haw quite Anotha kind a pawson look, A Countess would pasist, last night, In asking me about haw book. She wished to know if I admiawd Eva, which quite confounded me ; And then haw Ladyship inqwaw'd Whethaw A did 'nt hate Legwee ? Bai Jove ! A was completely flaw'd ; A wish'd myself, or haw, at Fwance ; And that 's the way a feUa 's baw'd By ev'wy gal he asks to dance. A felt myself a gweat a fool Than A had evaw felt befaw ; A '11 study at some Wagged School The tale of that old Blackamaw 1 ECCENTRIC AND NONDESCEIPT. 637 THE EXCLUSIVE'S BROKEN IDOL. PUNCH. A don't object at all to War With a set a fellas Kke the Fwench, But this dem wupcha with the Czar, It gives one's feeling quite a wench. The man that peace in Yawwup kept Gives all his pwevious life the lie ; A fina fella neva stepped, Bai Jove, he 's maw than six feet high 1 He cwushed those democwatic beasts ; He 'd flog a Nun ; maltweat a Jew, Or pawsecute those Womish Pwiests, Most likely vewy pwoppa too. To think that afta such a cawce. Which nobody could eva blame, The Emp'wa should employ bwute fawce Against this countwy just the same 1 We all consida'd him our fwiend, But in a most erwoneus hght, In shawt, it seems you can't depend On one who fancies might is wight. His carwacta is coming out ; His motives — which A neva saw — Are now wevealed beyond a doubt, And we must fiofht — but what a baw I THE LAST KICK OF FOP'S ALLEY. PUNCH. Air— ^'Weber's Last Waltz." My wawst feaws are wealized ; the Op'wa is na maw, And the wain of Donizetti and Tapischowe are aw I No entapwising capitalist bidding faw the lot, In detail at last the pwopaty is beuag sold by Scott. 638 ECCENTRIC AND NONDESCRIPT. Fahwell to Anna Bolena ; to Nauma^ oh, fahwell ! Adieu to 2. a Sonnamhula! the hamma wings haw knell; I Puwitan\ too, must cease a cwowded house to dwaw, And they 've knocked down lovely Luciaj the Bwide of Lamma- Fahwell the many twinkling steps ; fahwell the gwaceful fawm That bounded o'er the wose-beds, and that twipped amid the stawm ; Fahwell the gauze and muslin — doomed to load the Hebwew's bags; Faw the Times assauts the wawdwobe went — -just fancy — as old wags 1 That ev'wy thing that's bwight must fade, we know is vewy twue, And now we see what sublunawy giowwy must come to ; How twue was Maidstone's pwophecy ; the Deluge we behold Now that Haw Majesty's Theataw is in cawse of being sold. THE MAD CABMAN'S SONG OF SIXPENCE* PUNCH. Wot 's this ? — wot hever is tliis 'ere ? Eh ? — arf a suvrin ! — feels like vun — Boohoo ! they won't let me have no beer 1 Suppose I chucks it up into the sun I — No — that ain't right — The yaller 's turned wite ! Ha, ha, ho ! — he 's sold and done — Come, I say ! — I won't stand that — 'Tis aU my eye and Betty Martin ! Over the left and all round my hat. As the pewter pot said to the kevarten. Who am I ? Hemprer of the French Lewis Napoleon Bonypart, Old Spooney, to be sure — Between you and me and the old blind oss And the doctor says there ain't no cure. » This inimitable burlesque was published soon after the cab fare had been r» duced from eightpeace to sixpence a mile. ECCENTRIC AND NONDESCRIPT. '3-^9 D' ye think I care for the blessed Bench ? — From Temple Bar to Charing Cross ? Two mile and better — arf a crown — Talk of screwing a feller down ! As for poor Bill, it 's broke his art. Cab to the Moon, sir ? Here you are I — That 's — how much ? — A iarthin' touch ! Now as we can't demand back fare. But, guv'ner, wot can this 'ere be ? — The fare of a himperial carridge ? You don't mean all this 'ere for me 1 In course you ain't heerd about my marridge— I feels so precious keveer ! How was it I got that kick o' the 'ed ? I 've ad a slight hindisposition But a Beak ain't no Physician. Wot 's this 'ere, sir ? wot 's this 'ere ? You call yerself a gentleman ? yer Snob I He was n't bled : And I was let in for forty bob, Or a month, instead : And I caught the lumbago in the brain — I 've been confined — But never you mind — Ho, ho, ho, ho, ho, ho ! I ain't liinsane. Vot his this 'ere ? Can't no one tell ? It sets my ed a spinnin — • The Queen's eye winks — it ain't no sell — The Queen's 'ed keeps a grinnin : Ha, ha ! 't was guv By the cove I druv — I vunders for wot e meant it I For e sez to me, E sez, sez e. As I ort to be contented I Wot did yer say, sir, wot did yer say ? My fare ! — wot, that ! Yer knocks me flat. Hit in the vind ! — I 'm choldn — give us air — My fare ? Ha, ha I My fare ? Ho, ho ! My fare ? 640 ECCENTRIC AND XONDESCKIPT, Call that my fare for drivin jer a mile ? I ain't hinsane — not yet — ^not yet avile 1 Wot makes yer smile ? My blood is bilin' in a wiolent manner 1 Wot 's tliis I 've got ? Show us a light — This 'ere is — wot ? — There 's sunthin the matter with my sight — It is — yes ! — No 1 — 'Tis, raly, though — ' Oh, blow ! blow ! blow ! — Ho, ho, ho, ho 1 it is, it is a Tanner 1* ALARMING PROSPECT PUNCH. To the Editor of " Punch." Sib— You are aware, of course, that in the progress of a few centuries the Ian guage of a country undergoes a great alteration ; that the Latin of the Augustan age was very different from that of the time of Tarquin ; and no less so from that which prevailed at the fall of the Roman empire. Also, that the Queen's English is not precisely what it was in Elizabeth's days; to say nothing of its variation from what was its condition under the Plantagenets. I observe, with regret, that our literature is becoming conversational, and our conversation cosrupt. The use of cant phraseology is daily gaining ground among us, and this evil will speedily infect, if it has not already infected, the productions of our men of letters. I fear most for our poetry, because what is vulgarly termed slaTig is unfortunately very expressive, and therefore peculiarly adapted for the piirposes of those whose aim it is to clothe "thoughts that breathe" in "words that bum ;'^ and, besides, it is in many instances equivalent to terms and forms of speech which have long been recognized among poetical writers as a kind of current coin. The peril which I anticipate I have endeavored to exemplify in the following APFECTING COPY OF VERSES (WITH NOTES). Gently o'er the meadows prigging,' Joan and Colin took their way, While each flower the dew was swigging,' In the jocund month of May. Joan was beauty's plummiest^ daughter ; Colin youth's most nutty* son ; Many a nob^ in vain had sought her — Him full many a spicy^ one. ECCENTRIC AND NONDESCRIPT. 641 She her faithful bosom's jewel Did unto this young un'^ plight; But, alas ! the gov'nor^ cruel, Said as how he 'd never fight.* Soon as e'er the lark had risen, They had burst the bonds of snooze,** And her daddle" hnk'd in his'n,^8 Gone to roam as lovers use. In a crack'' the youth and maiden To a flowery bank did come. Whence the bees cut," honey-laden, Not without melodious hum. Down they squatted'* them together, " Lovely Joan," said Colin bold, " Tell me, on thy davy, '" whether Thou dost dear thy Cohn hold ?" " Don't I, just ?"" with look ecstatic, Cried the young and ardent maid ; " Then let 's bolt !"'8 in tone emphatic, Bumptuous'® Colin quickly said. "Bolt?" she falter'd, "from the gov'nor? Oh ! my Colin, that won't pay ;2»> He will ne'er come down,2i my love, nor Help us, if we run away." " Shall we then be disunited ?" Wildly shrieked the frantic cove ;22 " MuU'd'^^ our happiness I and bHghted In the kinchin-bud^'* our love I " No, my tuhp l^s let us rather Hand in hand the bucket kick ;26 Thus we 'U chouse-^ your cruel father — Cutting from the world our stick 1"28 Thus he spoke, and pull'd a knife out, Sharp of point, of edge full fine ; Pierc'd her heart, and let the life out — " Now," he cried, " here 's into mine 1"" i 642 ECCENTRIC AND N O N D E S C E 1 P - But a hand unseen behind him Did the fatal blow arrest. Oh, my eye 1^° they seize and bind him — G-entle Mu^e, conceal the rest I *^ In the precints of the prison, In his cold crib^' Colin hes ; Mourn his fate aU you who hsten, Draw it nuld, and mind your eyes l^^ 1. "Prigging," stealing; as yet exclusively applied to petty larceny. " Steal« tog" is as well known to be a poetical term as it is to be an indictable offense ; the Zepbyr and the Vesper Hymn, cum muUis aliis, are very prone to this practice. 2. " Swigging," drinking copiously — of malt liquor in particular. " Pearly drops of dew we drink." — Old Song. 8. "Plummiest," the superlative of " plummy," exquisitely delicious; an epi- thet commonly used by young gentlemen in speaking of a bo7ine bouche or " tit bit," as a mince pie, a preserved apricot, or an oyster patty. The transference of terms expressive of delightful and poignant savor to female beauty, is common with poets. " Death, that hath sucked the ho7iey of thy breath.'" — Shaxspeahe. " Charley loves a pretty girl, as sweet as sugar candy." — Anon. 4. " Nutty," proper — ^iu the old English sense of " comely," " handsome." " Six proper youths, and tall." — Old Song. 5. " Nob," a person of consequence ; a word very likely to be patronized, from its combined brevity and significancy. 6. " Spicy," very smart and pretty ; it has the same recommendation, and will probably supplant the old favorite " bonny." " Busk ye, busk ye, my bonny, bonny bride." — Hamilton. 7. " Young 'un," youth, young man. "A youth to fortune and to fame un- known." — Gray. 8. " Gov'nor," or "guv'nor," a contraction of "governor," a father. It will, no doubt, soon supersede sire, which is at present the poetical equivalent for the name of the author of one's existence. See all the poets, 2>assim. 9. " Said as how he'd never fight," the thing was out of the question ; a meta- phorical phrase, though certainly, at present, a vulgar one. 10. " Snooze," slumber personified, like " Morpheus," or " Somnus." 11. "Daddle." — Q. from (JawruAoj, a finger — pars pro totof — Hand, the only synonymfor it that we have, except " Paw," " Mawley," &c., which are decidedly generis ejusdem. 12. "His'n," his own; corresponding to the Latin SWMS, his own and nobody else's, so frequently met with in Ovid and others. 13. " Crack," a twinkling, an extremely short interval of time, which was for- merly expressed, in general, by a periphrasis ; as, " Ere the leviathan can swim a league !" — Shakspeaee. 14. " Cut," sped. A synonym. 15. " Squatted," sat. Id. 16. " Davy," affidavit, solemn oath. Significant and euphonious, therefore al- luring to the versifier. 17. " Don't I, just?" A question for a strong affirmation, as, " Oh, yes, indeed I do ;" a piece of popular p letoric, pithv and forcible and consequently almost sure to be adopted — especially by the pathetic writers. ECCENTRIC AXD NONDESCRIPT. 643 18. " Bolt," ran away. S711. 19. "Bumptious," fearless, bold, and spirited; a very energetic expression; such as those rejoice in who would fair "Denim's strength with Waller' s sweet« ness join." 20. "That won't pay," that plan will never answer. Metaph. 21. "Comedown," disburse; also rendered in the vernacular by "fork out," etc. Id. 22. "Cove," swain. " Alexis shuun' d his fellow szoafns." — Peioe. See also Shenstone 2>ctssi'm. 23. " MuU'd," equivalent to " wreck' d," a term of pathos. 24. " Kinchin-bud," infant-bud. Metaph. ; moreover, very tender, sweet, and touching, as regards the idea. 25. " My tulip," a term of endearment. " Fairest ytoioer, all flowers excelling." Ode to a Child: Cottox. 2(}. " The bucket kick," pleonasm for die ; as, " to breathe life's latest sigh." — " To yield the soul," — " the breath," — or, ut ajiud antiq. " Animam expirare,'' seu " efBare," etc. 27. " Chouse," cheat. Syn. 28. " Cutting . . . our stick." Pleon. ut supra. 29. " Here's unto mine !" A form of speech analogous to " Have at thee."— Shak8pe^\.be, and the dramatists generally. 30. "Oh, my eye 1" an interjectional phrase, tantamount to " Oh, heavens I" "Merciful powers!" etc 31. " Cold crib," cold bed. " Go to thy cold bed and warm thee." — Shak. 32. " Draw it mild," etc. Metaph. for " Rule your passions, and beware!" I doubt not that it Avill be admitted by your judicious readers that I have sub- stantiated my case. Our monarchical institutions may preserve our native tongue for a time, but if it does not become, at no very distant period, as strange a med ley as that of the American is at present — to use the expressive but peculiar idiom of that people — "it's a pity." I am, sir, etc., P. EPITAPH ON A LOCOMOTIVE. BY THE SOLE SURVIVOR OF A DEPLORABLE ACCIDENT (nO BLAME TO BE ATTACHED TO ANY SERVANTS OF THE COMPANY). PUNCH. Collisions four Or five she bore, The Signals wor in vain; Grown old and rusted, Her biler busted, And smash' d the Excursion Train. "her end was pieces." 644 ECCENTRIC AND NONDESCEIPT. THE TICKET OF LEAVE. [as sung by the holder, amid a convivial circle in the SLUMS.] PUNCH. Ven a prig has come to grief, He 's no call for desperation ; Though I 'm a conwicted thief, Still I 've opes of Uberation. The Reverend Chapling to deceive A certain dodge and safe resource is, Whereby you gets a Ticket of Leave, And then resumes your wicious courses. {Spoken.) I vos lagged, my 'beloved pals, on a suspicion of burglary, 'ad up afore the Recorder, and got seven years' penal serwitude and 'ard labor. Hand presbus 'ard labor and 'ard lines I found it at first, mind you. Veil, I says to myself, blow me ! I ain't a goin' to stand this 'ere, you know ; but 'taint no use kickin' agin stone walls and iron spikes : wot I shall try and do is to gammon the parson. " Ven a prig," etc. Them parsons is so jolly green. They 're sure to trust in your conwersion, Which they, in course, beheves 'as been The consequence of theii exertion. You shakes your 'ead, turns up your eyes, And they takes that to be repentance ; Wherein you moans, and groans, and sighs, By reason only of your sentence. (Spoken.) "Wen in a state of wiolent prespiration smokin' 'ot from the crank, the Chapling comes into my cell, and he says, says he, " My man," he says, "how do you feel?" "'Appy, sir," says I, with a gentle sithe; "thank you, sir: quite 'appy." "But you seem distressed, my poor fellow," says he. "In body, sir," says I; "yes. But that makes me more 'appy. I'm glad to be distressed in body. It serves me right. But in mind I'm 'appy: leastways almost 'appy." "'Ave you hany wish to express," says he; " is there any re- quest as you would like to make." "'Awker's Hevening Potion, sir," says I, "and the Dairyman's Daughter: if 'Awkee'b Hevening Potion was but mine— and the Dairyman's Daughter — I think, sir, I should be quite 'appy." "My friend," says the parson, "your desire shall be attended to," and hout he valked : me a takin' a sight at 'im be'ind 'is back ; for as soon as I thought ha wos out of 'earin', sings I to myself— " Ven a prig," etc In the chapel hof the Jug, Then I did the meek and lowly, ECCENTRIC AND NONDESCEIPT. 645 Pullin' sitch a spoony mug That I looked unkimmon pure and 'oly. As loud as ever I could shout, All the responses too I hutter'd, Well knowing what I was about : So the reverend Grent I buttered. {Spohm. "Won day he comes to me arter service, and axes me what I thought I could do *Lf myself in the way of yarnin a honest liveliwood, if so be as I was to be allowed ray liberty and to go back to the world. "Ah! sir," says I, "I don't think no longer about the world. 'Tis a world of sorrow and wanity, I havn't given a thought to what I should do in it." "Everyone," says the Chapling "has his sphere of usefulness in society; can you think of no employ- ment which you have the desire and ability to follow?" "Well, sir," says I "if there is a wocation which I should feel delight and pleasure in follerin' 'tis that of a Scripter Keader. But I ain't worthy to be a Scripter Reader. A coal- porter of tracts and religious books, sir, I thinks that's what I should like to try and be, if the time of my just punishment was up. But there's near seven year, sir, to think about that — and p'raps 'tis better for me to be here." That's the way I used to soap the Chapling — Cos vy ? " Ven a prig," etc. So he thought I kissed the rod, All the while my 'art was 'ardened ; And I 'adn't been very long in quod Afore he got me as good as pardoned ; And here am I with my Ticket of Leave, Obtained by shamming pious feeHng, Which lets me loose again to thieve, For I means to persewere in stealing. (Spoken.) With which resolution, my beloved pals, if you please I'll couple the 'elth of the clergy; and may they hever continue to be sitch kind friends as they now shows theirselves to us when we gets into trouble. For, " Ven a prig," etc. A POLKA LYRIC. BARCLAY PHILIPS. Qui nunc dancere vult modo, Wants to dance in the fashion, oh I Discere debet — ought to know, Kackere floor cum heel and toe, One, two, three, Hop with me, WhirUgig, twirligig, rapide. 046 ECCENTEIC AND NONDESCRIPT. Polkam jungere, Virgo, vis, Will you join the polka, miss ? Liberius — most willingly. Sic agimus — then let us try: Nunc vide, Skip with me, Whirlabout, roundabout, celere. Tum Iseva cito, turn dextra, First to the left, and then t' other way; Aspice retro in Vultu, You look at her, and she looks at yoa Das palmam Change hands, ma'am ; Celere — ^run away, just in sham. A SUNNIT TO THE BIG OX. COMPOSED WHILE STANDING WITHIN 2 FEET OF HIM, AND A TUCHIN' OF HIM NOW AND THEN. ANONYMOUa All hale ! thou mighty annimil — all hale I Y"ou are 4 thousand pounds, and am purty wel Perporshund, thou tremenjos boveen nuggit I I wonder how big you was wen you Wos little, and if yure muther wud no you now That you 've grone so long, and thick, and phat ; Or if yure father would rekognize his ofspring And his kaflf, thou elefanteen quodrupid ! I wonder if it hurts you mutch to be so big, And if you grode it in a month or so. I spose wen you wos young tha did n't gin You skim milk but all the kreme you kud stuff Ento your little stummick, jest to see How big yude gro ; and afterward tha no doubt Fed you on otes and ha and sich like, , With perhaps an occasional punkin or squosh I In all probability yu don't no yure enny Bigger than a small kaflf; for if you did, ECCENTEIC AND NONDESCKIPT. 647 Tude brake down fences and switch your tail, And rush around, and hook, and beller, And run over fowkes, thou orful beast. O, what a lot of mince pize yude maik, And sassengers, and your tale, Whitch kan't wa fur from phorty pounds, Wud maik nigh unto a barrel of ox-tail scop, And cudn't a heep of stakss be cut oph yu, Whitch, with salt and pepper and termater Ketchup, wouldn't be bad to taik. Thou grate and glorious inseckt I But I must klose, most prodijus reptile ! And for mi admirashun of yn, when yu di, I'le rite a node unto yore paddy and remanea^ Pernouncin' yu the largest of yure race ; And as I don't expect to have a half a dollar Agin to spare for to pa to look at yu, and as I ain't a ded head, I will sa, farewell ^"^ ,# •4 " ^ \;eccived WAR DEPARTMENT LIBRARY. ENIGMATIC. RIDDLES BY MATTHEW PRIOR, TWO RIDDLES. Sphinx was a monster that would eat Whatever stranger she could get ; Unless his ready wit disclos'd The subtle riddle she propos'd. (Edipus was resolv'd to go, And try what strength of parts would da Says Sphinx, on this depends your fate ; Tell me what animal is that Which has four feet at morning bright, Has two at noon and three at night ? 'Tis man, said he, who, weak by nature, At first creeps, like his fellow creature, Upon all-four ; as years accrue, With sturdy steps he walks on two ; In age, at length, grows weak and sick, For his third leg adopts a stick. Now, in your turn, 'tis just methinks, You should resolv^ me. Madam Sphinx. What greater stranger yet is he Who has four legs, then two, then three ; Then loses one, then gets two more, And runs away at last on four ? ENIGMA. By birth I 'm a slave, yet can give you a crown, I dispose of all honors, myself having none : I 'm obhged by just maxims to govern my life, Yet I hang my own master, and he with his wife. 662 ENIGMATIC. When men are a-gaming I cunningly sneak, And their cudgels and shovels away from them take. Fair maidens and ladies I by the hand get, And pick oflf their diamonds, tho' ne'er so well set. For when I have comrades we rob in whole bands, Then presently take off your lands from your hands. But, this fury once over, I 've such winning arts. That you love me much more than you do your own hearts. ANOTHER. Form'd half beneath, and half above the earth, We sisters owe to art our second birth : The smith's and carpenter's adopted daughters, Made on the land, to travel on the waters. Swifter they move, as they are straiter bound, Yet neither tread the air, or wave, or ground : They serve the poor for use, the rich for whim, Sink when it rains, and when it freezes swim. RIDDLES BY DEAN SWIFT AND HIS FRIENDS.* A MAYPOLE. Deprived of root, and branch, and rind, Yet flowers I bear of every kind : And such is my prolific power. They bloom in less than half an hour ; Yet standers-by may plainly see They get no nourishment from me. • The following notice is subjoined to some of those riddles, in the Dablln edition; "About nine or ten years ago (i. e. about 1724), some ingenious gentle- men, friends to the author, used to entertain themselves with -writing riddles, and send them to him and their other acquaintance ; copies of which ran about, and some of them were printed, both here and in England. The author, at his leisure hours, fell into the same amusement ; although it be said that he thought them of no great merit, entertainment, or use. However, by the advice of some per- sons, for whom the author has a great esteem, and who were pleased to send us the copies, we have ventured to print the few following, as we have done two or three before, and which are allowed to be genuine ; because we are informed that several good judges have a taste for such kind of compositions." ENIGMA.TIC. 653 My head with giddiness goes round, And yet I firmly stand my ground ; All over naked I am seen, And painted like an Indian queen. No couple-beggar in the land E'er join'd such numbers hand in hand. I join' d them fairly with a ring ; Nor can our parson blame the thing. And though no marriage words are spoke, They part not till the ring is broke : Yet hypocrite fanatics cry, I 'm but an idol raised on high ; And once a weaver in our town, A damn'd Cromwellian, knock' d me down. I lay a prisoner twenty years, And then the jovial c'avaliers To their old post restored all three — I mean the church, the king, and me. ON THE MOON. I with borrowed silver shine, What you see is none of mine. First I show you but a quarter, Like the bow that guards the Tartar: Then the half, and then the whole, Ever dancing round the pole. What will raise your admiration, I am not one of God's creation, But sprung (and I tliis truth maintain), Like Pallas, from my father's brain. And after all, I chiefly owe My beauty to the shades below. Most wondrous forms you see me wear, A man, a woman, Hon, bear, A fish, a fowl, a cloud, a field. All figures heaven or earth can yield ; Like Daphne sometimes in a tree ; Yet am not one of all you see. 654 ENIGMATIC. ON INK. I am jet black, as you may see, The son of pitch and gloomy night; Yet all that know me will agree, I 'm dead except I live in light Sometimes in panegyric high. Like lofty Pi idar, I can soar, And raise a virgin to the sky, Or sink her to a filthy . My blood this day is very sweet, To-morrow of a bitter juice ; Like milk, 'tis cried about the street^ And so applied to different use. Most wondrous is my magic power : For with one color I can paint ; I '11 make the devil a saint this hour, Next make a devil of a saint. Through distant regions I can fly, Provide me but with paper wings ; And fairly show a reason why There should be quarrels among kmg8 ; And, after all, you '11 think it odd, When learned doctors will dispute. That I should point the word of Grod, And show where they can best confute. Let lawyers bawl and strain their throats 'Tis I that must the lands convey, And strip their clients to their coats ; Nay, give their very souls away. ON A CIRCLE. I 'm up and down, and round about, Yet aU the world can't find me out ; Though hundreds have employ'd then- leisureb They never yet could find my measure. ENIGMATIC. 655 I 'm found almost in every garden, Nay, in the compass of a farthing. There 's neither chariot, coach, nor mill^ Oan move an inch except I will ON A PEN. In youth exalted high in air, Or bathing in the waters fair, N'ature to form me took delight, ^Lud clad my body all in white. My person tall, and slender waist, On either side with fringes graced ; Till x.ie that tyrant man espied, Ana dragg'd me from my mother's side No wonier now I look so thin ; The tyranfc utript me to the skin : My skin he ilay'd, my hair he cropt : At head and foot my body lopt : And then, with neart more hard than s one, He pick'd my maiTow from the bone. To vex me moro, he took a freak To slit my tonguo «nd make me speak But, that which w^l derful appears, I speak to eyes, and Lot to ears. He oft employs me in disguise, 'And makes me tell a thcusand lies: To me he chiefly gives in trust To please his malice or his lust. From me no secret he can hide : I see his vanity and pride : And my dehght is to expose His follies to his greatest foes. AU languages I can command. Yet not a word I understand. Without my aid, the best divine In learning would not know a hne : The lawyer must forget his pleading ; The scholar could not show his reading Nay ; man my master is my slave ; I give command to kill or save. r,56 ENIGMATIC. Can grant ten thousand pounds a-year, And make a beggar's brat a peer. But, while I thus my hfe relate, I only hasten on my fate. My tongue is black, my mouth is furr'd, I hardly now can force a word. I die unpitied and forgot, And on some dunghill left to rot A PAN. From India's burning clime I 'm brought, With cooling gales like zephyrs fraught. Not Iris, when she paints the sky, Can show more different hues than I ; Nor can she change her form so fast, I 'm now a sail, and now a mast. I here am red, and there am green, A beggar there, and here a queen. I sometimes hve in a house of hair, And oft in hand of lady fair. I please the young, I grace the old, And am at once both hot and cold Say what I am then, if you can. And find the rhyme, and you 're the man. ON A CANNON. Begotten, and born, and dying with noise. The terror of women, and pleasure of boys. Like the fiction of poets concerning the wind, I 'm chiefly unruly when strongest confined. For silver and gold I don't trouble my head, But all I delight in is pieces of lead ; Except when I trade with a ship or a town, Why then I make pieces of iron go down. One property more I would have you remark, No lady was ever more fond of a spark ; The moment I get one my soul 's all a-fire. And I roar out my joy, and in transport expire. ENIGMATIC. 657 ON THE FIVE SENSES. All of us in one you '11 find, Brethren of a wondrous kind ; Yet among us all no brother Knows one title of the other; We in frequent counsels are, And our marks of things declare, Where, to us unknown, a clerk Sits, and takes them in the dark. He 's the register of all In our ken, both great and small ; By us forms his laws and rules, He 's our master, we his tools ; Yet we can with greatest ease Turn and wind him where you please. One of us alone can sleep, Yet no watch the rest will keep, But the moment that he closes, Every brother else reposes. If wine's bought or victuals drest, One enjoys them for the rest. Pierce us all with wounding steel. One for all of us will feel. Though ten thousand cannons roar, Add to them ten thousand more, Yet but one of us is found Who regards the dreadful sound. ON SNOW. From Heaven I fall, though from earth I begin. No lady alive can show such a skin. I 'm bright as an angel, and hght as a feather. But heavy and dark, when you squeeze me together. Though candor and truth in my aspect I bear. Yet many poor creatures I help to insnare. Though so much of Heaven appears in my make, The foulest impressions I easily take. My parent and I produce one another. The mother the daughter, the daughter the mother. 28* 668 ENIGMATIC. ON A CANDLE. Of all inhal itants on earth, To man alone I owe my birth, And yet the cow, the sheep, the bee, Are all my parents more ihan he : I, a virtue, strange and rare. Make the fairest look more fair ; And myself, which yet is rarer, Growing old, grow still the fairer. Like sots, alone I 'm dull enough, "When dosed with smoke, and smear'd ■witj snufl ; But, in the midst of mirth and wine, I with double luster shine. Emblem of the Fair am I, PoUsh'd neck, and radiant eye; Li my eye my greatest grace, Emblem of the Cyclops' race ; Metals I like them subdue. Slave like them to Vulcan too ; Emblem of a monarch old. Wise, and glorious to behold ; Wasted he appears, and pale, Watching for the public weal : Emblem of the basliful dame. That in secret feeds her flame, Often aiding to impart All the secrets of her heart ; Various is my bulk and hue, Big like Bess, and small like Sue : Now brown and burnish'd like a nut, At other times a very slut ; Often fair, and soft and tender. Taper, tall, and smooth, and slender : Like Flora, deck'd with various flowers, Like Phoebus, guardian of the hours : But whatever be my dress, Greater be my size or less, Swelling be my shape or small, Like thyself I shine in all. Clouded if my face is seen, My complexion wan and green, ENIGMATIC. 659 Languid like a love-sick maid, Steel aflfords me present aid. Soon or late, my date is done, As my thread of life is spun ; Yet to cut the fatal thread Oft revives my drooping head; Yet I perish in my prime, Seldom by the death of time ; Die like lovers as they gaze. Die for those I live to please ; Pine unpitied to my urn, Nor warm the fair for whom I bum ; Unpitied, unlamented too, Die like all that look on you. ON A CORKSCREW. Though I, alas ! a prisoner be, My trade is prisoners to set free. No slave his lord's commands obeys With such insinuating ways. My genius piercing, sharp, and bright. Wherein the men of wit delight. The clergy keep me for their ease. And turn and wind me as they please. A new and wondrous art I show Of raising spirits from below ; In scarlet some, and some in white ; They rise, walk round, yet never fiight. In at each mouth the spirits pass, Distinctly seen as through a glass. O'er head and body make a rout. And drive at last all secrets out ; And still, the more I show my art, The more they open every heart. A greater chemist none than I Who, from materials hard and dry. Have taught men to extract with skill More precious juice than from a stilL Although I 'm often out of ccae, I 'm not ashamed to show my face. 3G0 ENIGMATIC. Though at the tables of the great I near the sideboard take my seat ; Yet the plain 'squire, when dinner 's done^ Is never pleased till I make one ; He kindly bids me near him stand, And often taker me by the hand. I twice a-daj a-hunting go, And never fail to seize my foe ; And when I have him by the poll, I drag him upward from his hole ; Though some are of so stubborn kind, I 'm forced to leave a limb behind. I hourly wait some fatal end ; For T can break, but scorn to bend. AN ECHO. Never sleeping, still awake, Pleasing most when most I speak ; The dehght of old and young. Though I speak without a tongue. Nought but one thing can confound m& Many voices joining round me ; Then I fret, and rave, and gabble, Like the laborers of Babel. Now I am a dog, or cow, I can bark, or I can low ; I can bleat, or I can sing, Like the warblers of the spring. Let the love-sick bard complain, And I mourn the cruel pain ; Let the happy swain rejoice. And I join my helping voice : Both are welcome, grief or joy, I with either sport and toy. Though a lady, I am stout. Drums and trumpets bring me out : Then I clash, and roar, and rattle, Join in aii the din of battle. Jove, with all bis loudest thunder. When I 'm vexed can't keep me under ; NIGMATIC. 061 Yet so tender is ray ear, That the lowest voice I fear ; Much I dread the courtier's fate, When his merit 's out of date, For I hate a silent breath, And a whisper is my death. ON THE YOWELS. We are little airy creatures, AU of dijGferent voice and features; One of us in glass is set, One of us you '11 find in jet. T' other you may see in tin, And the fourth a box within. If the fifth you should pursue. It can never fly from you. ON A PAIR OF DICE. We are little brethren twain, Arbiters of loss and gain. Many to our counters run. Some are made, and some undone : But men find it to their cost. Few are made, but numbers lost. Though we play them tricks forever, Yet they always hope our favor. ON A SHADOW IN A GLASS. By something form'd, I nothing am, Yet every tiling that you can name ; In no place have I ever been. Yet everywhere I may be seen ; In all things false, yet always true, I 'm still the same — but ever new. Lifeless, hfe's perfect form I wear, Can show a nose, eye, tongue, or ear. Yet neither smell, see, taste, nor hear. 662 ENIGMATIC. All shapes and features I can boast, No flesh, no bones, no blood — no ghost; All colors, without paint, put on, And change, like the chameleon. Swiftly I come, and enter there, Where not a chink lets in the air ; Like thought, I 'm in a moment gone, Nor can I ever be alone : All things on earth I imitate Faster than nature can create ; Sometimes imperial robes I wear, Anon in beggar's rags appear ; A giant now, and straight an elf, I'm every one, but ne'er myself; Ne'er sad I mourn, ne'er glad rejoice, I move my lips, but want a voice ; I ne'er was born, nor ne'er can die, Then, pr'ythee, tell me what am I ? ON TIME. Ever eating, ever cloying, All-devouring, all-destroying Never finding full repast. Till I eat the world at last RECEIVED. '^^ i^'^RA3>'^l CATALOGUE OF SOURCES. Heceived WAR DEPARTMENT LIBRARY. CATALOGUE OF SOURCES. ADDTSON, JOSEPH— The Essayist of the "Spectator;" bora 1632: died 1708. Addison, though one of the most celebrated of English humorists, wrote scarcely a line of humorous verse. See p. 538. ALLINGHAM, WILLIAM — An American writer; contributor to "Putnam's Magazine ;" author of a volume of poems recently pub- lished in Hartford. See p. 70. ANONYMOUS— To Punch's Ahnanac, for 1856, we are indebted for an account of this prolific writer : Of Anon," says Punch, "but little is known, though his works are excessively numerous. He has dabbled in every thing. Prose and Poetry are alike familiar to his pen. One moment he will be up the highest flights of philosophy, and the next he will be down in some kitchen garden of literature, culling an Enormous Gooseberry, to present it to the columns of some provincial newspaper. His contributions are scattered wherever the English language is read. Open any volume of Miscellanies at any place you will, and you are sure to fall upon some choice little bit signed by ' Anon.' What a mind his must have been 1 It took in every thing like a pawn- broker's shop. Nothing was too trifling for its grasp. Now he was hanging on to the trunk of an elephant and explaining to you how it was more elastic than a pair of India-rubber braces ; and next he would be constructing a suspension bridge with a series of monkey's tails, tying them together as they do pocket-handkerchioi's in the gaUery of a theater when they want to fish up a bonnet that has fallen into the pit. " Anon is one of our greatest authors. If all the things which are signed with Anon's name were collected on rows of shelves, he would requu-e a British Museum all to himself. And yet of this great man so little is known that wo are not even acquainted with his Christian name. There is no certificatf^ of baptism, no moldy tombstone, no musty washing-bill in the world on which we can hook the smallest line of speculation whether it was John, or James, 666 CATALOGUE OF SOURCES. or Joshua, or Tom, or Dick, or Billy Anon. Shame that a man should write so much, and yet be known so little. Oblivion uses its snuffers, sometimes, very unjustly. On second thoughts, per- haps, it is as well that the works of Anon were not collected to- gether. His reputation for consistency would not probably be increased by the collection. It would be found that frequently he had contradicted himself — that in many instances when he had been warmly upholding the Christian white of a question he had afterward turned round, and maintained with equal warmth the Pagan black of it. He might often be discovered on both sides of a truth, jumping boldly from the right side over to the wrong, and flinging big stones at any one who dared to assail him in either position. Such double-sidedness would not be pretty, and yet we should be lenient to such inconsistencies. With one who had writ- ten so many thousand volumes, who had twh'led his thoughts as with a mop on every possible subject, how was it possible to ex- pect any thing like consistency ? How was it likely that he could recoUect every little atom out of the innumerable atoms his pen had heaped up? " Anon ought to have been rich, but he lived in an age when piracy was the fashion, and when booksellers walked about, as it were, like Indian chiefs, with the skulls of the authors they had slain, hung round their necks. No wonder, therefore, that we know nothing of the wealth of Anon. Doubtless he died in a gar- ret, like many other kindred spirits. Death being the only score out of the many knocking at his door that he could pay. But to his immortal credit let it be said he has filled more hbraries than the most generous patrons of literature. The volumes that formed the fuel of the barbarians' bonfire at Alexandria would be but a smaU book-stall by the side of the octavos, quartos, and duodecimos he has pyrauiidized on our book-shelves. Look through any catalogue you will, and you wUl find that a large proportion of the works in it have been contributed by Anon. The only author who can in the least compete with him in fecundity is Ibid." See pp. 569, 570, 571, 572, 584, 587, 646. ANTI-JACOBIN, THE— Perhaps the most famous collection of Po- htical Satires extant. Originated by Canning in 1797, it appeared in the form of a weekly newspaper, interspersed with poetry, the avowed object of which was to expose the vicious doctrines of the French Revolution, and to hold up to ridicule and contempt the advocates of that event, and the sticklers for peace and parliament- ary reform. The editor was "William Gifford, the vigorous and un- scrupulous critic and poetaster the writers, Mr. John Hookham Frere, M •. Jenkinson (afterward Earl of Liverpool) ; Mr. George CATALOGUE OF SOUECES. 667 Ellis, Lord Clare, Lord Momington (afterward Marquis Wellesley;, Lord Morpeth (afterward Earl of Carlislr>), Baron Macdouald, and others. These gentlemen spared no means, fair or foul, in their attempts to blacken their adversaries. Their most distinguished countrymen, if opposed to the Tory government of the time being, were treated with no more respect than foreign adversaries, and were held up to pubUc execration as traitors, blasphemers, and de- bauchees. The period was one of great pohtical excitement, a fierce war with republican France being in progress, the necessity for which divided the public into two great parties ; national credit being affected, the Bank of England suspending cash pajonents, mutinies breakmg out in the fleets at Spithead and the Nore, and L^eland at the verge of rebellion. Spain, also, had declared war against Britain, whicli was thus left to contend singly against the power of France. Party feeling running very high, the anti-Jaco- bins were by no means discriminating in their attacks, associating men together who really had nothing in common. Hence the reader is surprised to find Charles Lamb and other non-intruders into politics, figuring as congenial conspirators with Tom Paine. Fox, Sheridan, Erskine, and other eloquent liberals of the day, with Tierney, Home Tooke, and Coleridge were at the same time writ- mg and talking in the opposite extreme, and Httle quarter was given — certainly none on the part of the Tory wits. The poetry of the " Anti- Jacobin," however, was not exclusively political, com- prising also parodies and burlesques on the current hterature of the day, some being of the highest degree of merit, and distinguished by sharp wit and broad humor of the happiest kind. In these, Canning and his coadjutors did a real service to letters, and assisted in a purification which Gifford, by his demolition of the Delia Crus- can school of poetry had so well begun. Perhaps no lines in the Enghsh language have been more effective or oftener quoted than Canning's ^'■Friend of Humanity and the Knife Grindery Many of the celebrated caricatures of Gilray were originally designed to illus- trate the Poetry of the Anti-Jacobin. It had, however, but a brief) though brilhant existence. Wilberforce and others of the more moderate supporters of the ministry became alarmed at the boldness of the language employed. Pitt (himself a contributor to the journal), was induced to interfere, and after a career of eight months, the " Anti- Jacobin" (in its original form), ceased to be. Sea pp. 384, 386, 387. A.YTOUN, WILLIAM— Professor of Polite Literature in the Edin burg University: editor of "Blackwood's Magazine:" son-in-law o» the late Professor "Wilson. Professor Aytoun was bred to the bai but, we believe, never came into practice. He is the author o' 668 CATALOGUE OF SOURCES. several humorous pieces, and of many in which the intention to be numorous was not reahzed. He is what the Engiish call a very clever man. Like many others who excel in ridicule and sarcasm, he is devoid of that kind of moral principle which makes a writer pre- fer the Just to the Dashing. Aytoun is a fierce Tory in pohtics — a snob on principle. The specimens of his humorous poetry con- tained in this collection were taken from the " Ballads of Bon Gaul- tier," and the "Idees Napoleoniennes," editions of both of which have been pubUshed in this country. See pp. 181, 345, 347, 503, 504, 506, 507, 510, 511, 512, 513, 514, 516, 576. BARHAM, RET. RICHARD HARRIS— Author of the celebrated "Ingoldsby Legends," pubhshed originally in "Bentley's Miscel- lany," afterward collected and published in three volumes, with a memoir by a son of the author. Mr. Barham was born at Canterbury, England, December 6th, 1788. His family is of great antiquity, having given its name to the well-known " Barham Downs," between Dover and Canterbury. He was educated at St. Paul's Sshool in Canterbury, where he made the acquaintance of Richard Bentley, who afterward became his pubhsher. From this school, he went to Oxford, entering Brazennose College, as a gentleman commoner, where he met Theo- dore Hook, and formed a friendship with that prince of wits which terminated only with Hook's life. At the University, Barham led a wild, dissipated hfe — as the bad custom then was — and was noted as a wit and good fellow. Being called to account, on one occasion, by his tutor for his continued absence from morning prayer, Barham replied, " Tlie fact is, sir, you are too late for me." " Too late?" exclaimed the astonished tutor. "Yes, sir," rejoined the student, "I can not sit up till seven o'clock in the morning. I am a man of regular habits, and unless I get to bed by four or five, I am fit for nothing the next day." The tutor took this jovial reply seriously, and Barham perceiving that he was reaUy wounded, offered a sincere apology, and after- ward attended prayers more regularly. Entering the church, he devoted himself to his clerical duties with exemplary assiduity, and obtained valuable preferment, rising at length to be one of the Canons of St. Paul's Cathedral. This office brought him into relations with Sydney Smith, with whom, though Barham was a Tory, he had much convivial intercourse. Yery early in life Mr. Barham became an occasional contributor to Blackwood's Magazine, then in the prime of its vigorous youth. The series of contributions called " Family Poetry," which appear in the volumes for 1823, and subsec^uent years, were by him. Most CATALOGUE OF SOURCES. 66Sf of those humorous effusions have been transferred to this vjlume. In 1837 Mr, Bentley established his "Miscellany," and secured the services of his Mend Barham, who, up to this time was unknown to the general public, though he had been for nearly twenty years a suc- cessful writer. The " Ingoldsby Legends" now appeared in I'apid succession, and proved so popular that their author soon became one of the recognized wits of the day. A large number of these unique and excellent productions enrich the present collection. "As re spects these poems," says Mr. Barham's biographer, '-remarkable as they have been pronounced for the wit and humor which they dis- play, their distinguishing attractions hes in the almost unparalleled flow and feUcity of the versification. Popular phrases, sentences the most prosaic, even the cramped technicalities of legal diction, and snatches from well-nigh every language, are wrought in with an apparent absence of all art and effort that surprises, pleases, and convulses the reader at every tin-n. The author triumphs with a master hand over every variety of stanza, however complicated or exacting ; not a word seems out of place, not an expression forced ; syllables the most intractable, and the only partners fitted for them throughout the range of language are coupled together as naturally as those kindred spirits which poets tell us were created pairs, and dispersed in space to seek out their particular mates. A harmony pervades the whole, a perfect modulation of numbers, never, per- haps, surpassed, and rarely equaled in compositions of theu- class. This was the fwte of Thomas Ingoldsby ; a harsh line or untrue rhyme grated on his ear Hke the Shandean hinge." These observa- tions are just. As a rhymer, Mr. Barham has but one equal in English hterature — Byron. Mr. Barham died at London on the 17th of June, 1845, in the fifty-seventh year of his age. He was an extremely amiable, be- nevolent character. It does not appear that his love of the humor- ous was ever allowed to interfere with the performance of his duties as a clergyman. "Without being a great preacher, he was a faithfiJ and kindly pastor, never so much in his element as when minister- ing to the distresses, or heaUng the differences of his parishioners. Unhke his Mend, Sydney Smith, he was singularly fond of the drama, and for many years was a member of the Garrick Club. He was one of the few English writers of humorous verse, all of whos( writings may be read aloud by a father to his famUy, and in whose wit there was no admixture of gaU. See pp. 41, 44, 125, 129, 136, 146, 156, 164, 282, 287, 417, 418, 419, 568, 569. BENTLEY'S MISCELLANY"— A London Monthly Magazine, founded about twenty years ago by Mr. Bentley, the publisher. Charles 670 CATALOGUE OF SOURCES. Dickens, and the author of the Ingoldsby Legends were among the first contributors. See p. 576. BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZINE— First appeared in April, 1817 Founded by WiUiam Blackwood, a shrewd Edinburgh bookseller. Its literary ability and fierce political partisanship, soon placed it fore- most in the ranks of Tory periodicals. Perhaps no magazine has ever achieved such celebrity, or numbered such a host of iUustrioua contributors. John "Wilson, the world-famous " Christopher North," was the virtual, though not nominal editor, Blackwood himself re- taining that title. It would be a long task to enumerate all, who, firom the days of Sir Walter Scott and the Ettrick Shepherd, to thoso of Bulwer and Charles Mackay, have appeared in its columns. Maginn, Lockhart, Grillies, Moir, Lander, Wordsworth, Coleridge, Lamb, Bowles, Barry Cornwall, Grleig, Hamilton, Aird, S}Tn, De Quincey, Allan Cimningham, Mrs. Hemans, Jerrold, Croly, War- ren, Ingoldsby (Barham), Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Milnes, and many others, of scarcely less note, found in Blackwood scope for their productions, whether of prose or verse. In its early days much of personality and sarcasm marked its pages, savage onslaughts on Leigh Hunt, and "the Cockney School of Literature," alternating with attacks on the Edinburgh Review, the Quarterly, and all Whigs and Whig productions whatever. The celebrated. Nodes Ambrosianod, a series of papers containing probably more learning, wit, eloquence, eccentricity, humor, and personahty than have ever appeared else- where, formed part of the individuahty of Blackwood. They were written by Wilson, Maginn, Lockhart, and Hogg, the two first named (and especially Wilson), having the pre-eminence. To the New York edition of tliis work, by Dr. Shelton Mackenzie (whose notes contain a perfect mine of information), we refer the reader for further particulars relative to Blackwood. See pp. 410, 412, 414^ 587, 588. BROUGHAM, LORD— The weU-known member of the English House of Peers. It seems, fi'om some jocularities attributed to his lordship, that he adds to his many other claims to distinction that of being a man of wit. See p. 580. BRYANT, WILLIAM CULLEN— The most celebrated of American poets. Editor of the " New York Evening Post." Born 1794. See p. 58. BURNS, ROBERT— Bom 1Y50, died 1796. The best loved, most national, most independent, truest, and greatest of Scottish poets, of whom to say more here were an impertinence. See pp. 25, 243, 246, 247, 551 552, 553. CATALOGUE OF SOUECES. 671 BUTLER, SAMUEL— Born in 1612 ; the son of a substantial l.irmei in "Worcestershire, England. Very little is known of the earUer portion of his life, as he had reached the age of fifty before he was so much as heard of by his cotemporaries. He appears to have re- ceived a good education at the cathedral school of his native county, and to have filled various situations, as clerk in the service of Thomas Jeffries of Earl's Croombe, secretary to the Countess of Kent, and general man of business to Sir Samuel Luke, of Cople TIoo, Bedfordshire, who, it is said, served as the model for his hero, Hudibras. The first pait of this singular poem was published at the close of 1662, and met with extraordinary success. Its wit, its quaint sense and learning, its passages of sarcastic reflection on aU maimer of topics, and above all, its unsparing ridicule of men and thmgs on the Puritan side, combined to render it a general favorite. The reception of Part II., which appeared a year subsequent, was equally flattering. Yet its author seems to have fallen into the greatest poverty and obscurity, from which he never was enabled to emerge. It appears to have been his strange fate to flash all at once into notoriety, which lasted precisely two years, to fill the court and town during that time with continuous laughter, intermingled with inquiries who and what he was, and then for seventeen long years to plod on unknown and unregarded, stiU hearing his Hudibras quoted, and still preparing more of it, or matter similar, with no re- sult. He died, in almost absolute destitution, in 1680, and was buried at a friend's expense, in the church-yard of St. Paul's, Covent Garden. See pp. 199, 527, 528, 529, 530, 531, 532, 533. BYROM— A noted EngUsh Jacobite. Born 1691. See p. 545. BYRON, GEORGE GORDON NOEL— Bom 1788, died in Greece, 1824. Respecting his celebrated Satu-e on the poet Rogers, which appears in this collection, we read the following in a London period- ical : — " The satire oil Rogers, by Lord Byron, is not surpassed for cool malignity, dexterous portraiture, and happy imagery, in the whole compass of the Enghsh language. It is said, and by those well informed, that Rogers used to bore Byron while in Italy, by his incessant minute dilettantism, and by visits at hours when Byron did not care to see him. One of many wild freaks to repel his un- seasonable visits was to set his big dog at him. To a mind like Byron's, here was sufficient provocation for a satire. The subject, too, was irresistible. Other inducements were i ot wanting. No man indulged himself more in sarcastic remarks on his cotemporaries tnan Mr. Rogers. Ee indulged his wit at any sacrifice. He spared no one, and Byron, consequently did not escape. Sarcastic sayings travel on electric wings — and one of Rogers's personal and amusing 372 CATALOGUE OF SOURCES. allusions to Byron reached the ears of the poetic pilgrim at Ravenna Few characters can bear the microscopic scrutiny of wit. Byron suffered. Fewer characters can bear its microscopic scrutiny when quickened by anger, and Rogers suffered still more severely. "This, the greatest of modern satirical portraits m verse, was written before their final meetmg at Bologna. Rogers was not aware that any saying of his had ever reached the ear of Byron, and Byron never pubhshed the verses on Rogers. They met like the handsome women described by Gibber, who, though they wished one another at the devil, are * My dear,' and ' My dear,' whenever they meet. One doubtless considered his saying as somethmg to be forgotten, and the other his verses as something not to be remem- bered. These verses are not included in Byron's works, and are very little known." See pp. 33, 34, 311, 567, 568. CHAUCER lived in the thirteenth century, dying in 1400. He is designated the father of English poetry. The obsolete phraseology of his writings, though presenting a barrier to -general appreciation and popularity, will never deter those who truly love the " dainties that are bred in a book" from holding him in affection and rever- ence. His chief work, the "Canterbury PUgrimage," "well of En- gUsh undefiled" as it is, was written in the decline of life, when its author had passed his sixtieth year. For catholicity of spirit, love of nature, purity of thought, pathos, humor, subtle and minute dis- crimination of character and power of expressing it, Chaucer has one superior — Shakspeare. See p. 21. CHESTERFIELD, LORD— Born in 1794; died 1773. Courtier, statesman, and man of the world ; famous for many things, but known to hterature chiefly by his "Letters to his Son," which have formed three generations of " gentlemen," and still exert great influ- ence. Chesterfield was a noted wit in his day, but most of his good things have been losi See p. 546. ■• CLEYELAND, JOHN— A political writer of Charies the First's time ; author of several satirical pieces, now known only to the curious. He died in 1659. See p. 546. COLERIDGE, SAMUEL TAYLOR— Poet, plagiarist, and opium- eater. Born at Bristol, in 1770. Died near London in 1834. He was a weak man of genius, whose reputation, formerly immense, has dechned since he has been better known. But " Christabel" and the "Ancient Mariner," will charm many generations of readers yet unborn. Most of the epigrams which appear in his works are adapted from Lessing. See pp 104, 557, 558. CATALOGUE OF SOUECES. 673 COWPER, WILLIAM— The gentle poet of religious England : born 173 1; died 1800. Cowper was an elegant humorist, despite the gloominess of his rehgious belief. It is said, however, that hia most comic effusions were written during periods of despondency. See pp. 99, 241, 242. "CRUIKSHANK'S OMNIBUS"— A monthly Magazine, published at the period of the artist's greatest celebrity, principally as a vehicle for his pencil. Its editor was Laman Blanchard, a lively essayist, and amiable man, whom anticipations of pecuniary distress subse- quently goaded to suicide. See pp. 431, 589. DEVREAUX, S. H.— An American scholar. Translator of " Yri- arte's Fables," recently pubhshed m Boston. See pp. 230, 241. ERSKINE, THOMAS— One of the most eminent of EngUsh law yers. Born 1750; died 1823. See p. 559. FIELDING, HENRY— The great English Humorist; author of "Tom Jones;" bom, 1707 ; died, 1754. See p. 382. GrAT, JOHN — A poet and satirist of the days of Queen Anne. Bom 1688; died, 1732. His wit, gentleness, humor, and animal spirits appear to have rendered him a general favorite. In worldly mat- ters he was not fortunate, losing £20,000 by the South Sea bubble ; nor did his interest, which was by no means inconsiderable, succeed in procuring him a place at court. He wrote fables, pastorals, the burlesque poem of "Trivia," and plays, the most successful and cele- brated of which is the " Beggar's Opera." Of tliis work tliere exists a sequel or second part, as fall of wit and satire as the original, but much less known. Its performance was suppressed by Walpole, upon whom it was supposed tf reflect. See pp. 215, 350, 590. GRAY, THOMAS— Author of the "Elegj- written ui a Country Church-yard;" Professor of Modern History in the University of Cambridge. Born in London, 1716; died, 1771. Gray was learned in History, Architecture, and Natural History. As a poet, he was remarkable for the labor bestowed on his poems, for his reluctance to pubhsh, and for the smaU number of his compositions. Carlyle thinks he is the only English poet who wrote less than he ought. See p. 97. HATiPTN, -A writer for the press, a resident of New York, autho^ of "Lyrics by the Letter H," published a year or two sir.ce by 'jerhy. See pp. 578. 579. 29 G74 CATALOGUE OF SOUKCES. HOLMES, OLIVER WENDELL— A physician of Boston, Professoi of xVnatomy in Harvard University; born at Cambridge, Mass., in 18C9. Dr. Holmes's humorous verses are too well known to require comment in this place. His burlesque, entitled " Evening, by a Tailor," is very excellent of its kuid. See pp. 61, 340, 342, 517, 518. HOOD, THOMAS— Author of the "Song of the Shirt," which Punch had the honor of first publishing. Born in 1798; died in 1845. Hood was the son of a London bookseller, and began hfe as a clerk. He became afterward an engraver, but was drawn gradually into the nterary profession, which he exercised far more to the advantage of his readers than his own. His later years were saddened by ill- health and poverty. Some of his comic verses seem forced and con- trived, as though done for needed wages. Hood was one of the Uterary men who should have made of literature a staff", not a crutch. It was in him to produce, like Lamb, a few very admirable things, the execution of which should have been the pleasant occupation of his leisure, not the toil by which he gained his bread. See pp. 45, 46, 289, 294, 3*07, 309, 422, 423, 425, 426, 592, 594, 596. HUNT, JAMES HENRY LEIGH— EngHsh Journalist and Poet. Born in 1784. His father was a clergyman of the Established church, and a man of ^\dt and feeling. See p. 583, JOHNSON, DR. SAMUEI^-Born 1709 ; died 1784. Critic, moral- ist, lexicographer, and, above all, the hero of Boswell's Life of Johnson. The ponderous philosopher did not disdain, occasionally, to give play to his elephantine wit. See p. 545. JONSON, BEN— Born 1574; died 1637. Poet, play-wright, and friend of Shakspeare, in whose honor he has left a noble eulogium. A manly, sturdy, laborious, English genius, of whose dramatic pro- ductions, however, but one (" Every Man in his Humor") has re- tained possession of the stage. He is also the author of some exqui- site lyrics. See pp. 525, 526. LAMB, CHARLES— Bom in London, 1775 ; died, 1832. As a hu- morons essayist, unrivaled and pecuhar, he is known and loved by aU who are likely to possess this volume. See pp. 29, 566. LANDOR, WALTER SAVAGE— A living English writer of consid- erable celebrity, author of " Imaginary Conversations," contributor to several .^eading periodicals. Mr, Landor is now advanced in years. His humorous verses are few, and not of striking excellence See p. 572. CATALOGFE OF SOURCES. 675 "LANTERN"," THE— A comic weekly, in imitation of "Punch," pub- lished in this city a few years ago. The leading spu-it of the " Lan- tern" was ilr. John Brougham, the well-known dramatist and actor. See p. 194. "LEADER^" THE — A London weekly newspaper, of liberal opinions; ably written and badly edited, and, therefore, of limited circulation. See p. 580. LESSING-, GOTTHOLD EPHRAIM— The well-known German au- thor; born 1729; died 1181. The epigrams of Lessing have been so frequently stolen by English writers, that, perhaps, they may now be considered as belonging to Enghsh Hterature, and hence entitled to a place in this collection. At least we found the temptation to add them to our stock irresistible. See pp. 553, 554, 555, 556. LINDSAY — A friend of Dean Swift. A poUte and elegant scholar ; an eminent pleader at the bar in Dubhn, and afterward advanced to be one of the justices of the Common Pleas. See p. 544. LOWELL, JAMES RUSSELL— The American Poet. Born at Bos- ton, in the year 1819. To Mr. Lowell must be assigned a high, if not the highest place, among American writers of humorous poetry. The Biglow Papers, from which we have derived several excellent pieces for this volume, is one of the most ingenious and well-sus- tained jevx d^esprit in existence. See pp. 522, 578, 619, 623, 626, 629. MAPES, WALTER DE— A noted clerical wit of Henry the Second's time. See p. 583. MOORE, THOMAS— The Irish poet; bom at Dublin m the year 1780. Moore has been styled the best writer of pohtical squibs that ever lived. He was employed to write comic verses on pass- ing events, by the conductors of the " London Times," in which journal many of his satirical poems appeared. The poUtical effu- sions that gave so much delight thirty years ago are, howevei:, scarcely intelligible to the present generation, or if intelligible, not mteresting. But Moore wrote many a sprightly stanza, the humor of which does not depend for its effect upon local or cotemporary allusions. This collection contains most of them. See pp. 36, 37, 38, 39, 124, 259, 260, 26], 263, 266, 267, 269, 273, 276, 415, 560, 561, 562, 563, 564, 565. MORRIS, GEORGE P— The father of pohte journalism in this city, and the most celebrated of American Song- writers. Born in Penn- sylvania about the beginning of the present century. See p. 196. 676 CATALOGUE OF SOURCES. •* PEROT RELIQUES" — A celebrated collection of ancient ballads^ edited by Bishop Percy, a man of great antiquarian knowledge and poetic taste. The publication of the " Percy Rehques" in the last century, introduced the tastt for the antique, which was gratified to the utmost by Sir Walter Sco.t, and which has scarcely yet ceased to rage in some quarters. See pp. 75, 77, 80. PHILIPS, B.rRCLAY— A living English writer, of whom nothing is known in tii^s country. See p. 645. PINDAR, PETER— See Wolcott. POPE, ALEXAISTDER— The poet of the time of Queen Amie; au- thor of the "Dunciad," which has been styled the most perfect of satires. Born in London, 1688 ; died, 1744. See p. 539. PRAED, WINTHROP MACKWORTH— An English poet, author of "LiUian," born in London about the year 1800. Little is known of Mr. Praed in this country, though it was here that liis poems were first collected and pubhshed in a volume. His family is of the aristocracy of the city, where some of his surviving relations are still engaged in the business of banking. At Eton, Praed was highly distinguished for his literary talents. He was for some time the editor of "The Etonian," a piquant periodical published by the students. From Eton he went to Cambridge, where he won an un- precedented number of prizes for poems and epigrams in Greek, Latin, and English. On retummg to London, he was associated with Thomas Babbington Macaulay in the editorsliip of " Knight'e Quarterly Magazine," after the discontinuance of which he occa- sionally contributed to the " New Monthly." A few years before his death, Mr. Praed became a member of Parhament, but owing to his love of ease and society, obtained httle distinction in that body. Mr. N. P. "Willis thus writes of the poet as he appeared in society : " We chance to have it in our power to say a word as to Mr. Praed's personal appearance, manners, etc. Tt was our good fortune when first in England (in 1834 or '35), to be a guest at the same hospitable country-house for several weeks. The party there assembled was somewhat a famous one — Miss Jane Porter, Miss JuUa Pardee, Krazinski (the Polish historian), Sir Gardiner Wilkin- son (the Oriental traveler), venerable Lady Cork (' Lady BeUair' of D'Israeli's novel), and several persons more distinguished in society than in .iterature. Praed, we believe, had not been long married, but he was there with his wife. He was appa'-ently about thirty- five, tall, and of dark complexv:)n, with a studious bend in his shoul- ders, and of irregular features ''trongly unpressed with melancholy CATALOGUE OF SOURCES. 677 His manners wre particularly reserved, though as unassuramg as they could well be. His exquisitely beautiful poem of 'Lillian' was among the pet treasures of the lady of the house, and we had all been indulged with a sight of it, in a choicely bound manuscript copy — but it was hard to make him confess to any literary habits or standing. As a gentleman of ample means and retired life, the kind of notice drawn upon him by the admiration of tliis poem, seemed distasteful. His habits were very secluded. We only saw him at table and in the evening ; and, for the rest of the day, he was away in the remote walks and woods of the extensive park around the mansion, apparently more fond of solitude than of any thing else. Mr. Praed's mind was one of wonderful readiness — rhythm and rhyme coming to him with the flow of an improvisa- tore. The ladies of the party made the events of every day the subjects of charades, epigrams, sonnets, etc., with the design of suggesting inspiration to his ready pen; and he was most bril- liantly complying, with treasures for each in her turn." Mr. Praed died on the 15th of July, 1839, without having ac- comphshed any thing worthy the promise of his earher years — another instance of Life's reversing the judgment of College. As a writer of agreeable trifles for the amusement of the drawing-room, he has had few superiors, and it is said that a large number of his impromptu effusions are still in the possession of his friends un- published. Two editions of his poems have appeared in New York, one by Langiey in 1 844, and another by Redfield, a few years later. See pp. 50, 52, 313, 316. PRIOR, MATTHEW— Born 1664; died 1721. A wit and poet of uo small genius and good nature — one of the minor celebrities of the days of Queen Anne. His "Town and Country Mouse," written in ridicule of Drj^den's famous "Hind and Panther," procured him the appointment of Secretary of Embassy at the Hague, and he subsequently rose to be embassador at Paris. Suffering disgrace . with his patrons he was afterward recalled, and received a pension from the University of Oxford, up to the tune of his death. See pp. 85, 200, 201, 202, 534, 535, 536, 537, 651, 652. " PUNCH" — Commenced in July, 1841, making its appearance just at the close of the Whig ministry, under Lord Melbourne, and the ac- cession of the Tories, headed by Sir Robert Peel. Originated by a circle of wits and literary men who frequented the " Shakspeare'a Head," a tavern in Wych-street, London. Mark Lemon, the landlord was, and stiU is, its editor. He is of Jewish descent, and had some reputation for ability with his pen, having been connected with other journals, and also wTitten farces and dramatic pieces. Punch's 678 CATALOGUE OF SODECES. earliest contributors were Douglas Jerrold, Albert Smith, Gilbert Abbot a'Beckett Hood and Maginn — Thackeray's dehU occurring m the third volume. It is said that one evening each week was espec- ially devoted to a festive meeting of these -^Titers, where, Lemou presiding, they dehberated as to the conduct and course of the peri- odical. " Punch," however, was at first not successful, and indeed on the point of being abandoned as a bad speculation, when Messrs. Bradbury and Evans, two aspiring printers, now extensive publish- ers, purchased it at the very moderate price of one hundred pounds, since which time it has continued their property, and a valu- able one. In those days it presented a somewhat different appear- ance from the present, being more closely printed, finer type used, and the illustrations (with the exception of small, black, siUwuetie cuts, after the style of those in similar French publications), were comparatively scanty. Soon, however, "Punch" throve apace, amply meriting its success. To Henning's drawings (mostly those of a po- litical nature), were added those of Leech, Kenny Meadows, Phiz (H. K. BrowTie), Gilbert, Alfred CrowquUl (Forrester), and others — Doyle's pencil not appearing till some years later. Chief of these gentlemen in possession of the peculiar artistic abUity which has identified itself with " Punch" is unquestionably Mr. John Leech, of whom we shall subsequently speak, at greater length. He has remained constant to the journal from its first volume. Jerrold's writings date from the commencement. Many essays and satiric sketches over fancy signatures, are fi-om his pen. His later and longer productions, extending through many volumes, are "Punch's Letters to his Son," "Punch's Complete Letter Writ- er," "Twelve Labors of Hercules," "Autobiography of Tom Thumb," "Mrs. Caudle's Curtain Lectures," "Capsicum House for Young Ladies," " Our Little Bird," " Mrs. Benunble's Tea and Toast," " Miss Eobinson Crusoe," and "Mrs. Bib's Baby," the last two of which were never completed. During the pubhcation of the "Caudle Lec- tures," " Punch" reached the highest circulation it has attained. "We have the authority of a personal friend of the author for the assertion that their herome was no fictitious one. The lectures were im- mensely popular. Englishmen not being slow to recognize in Jer- rold's caustic portraiture the features of a very formidable household reahty. But with the ladies Mrs. Caudle proved no favorite, nor, in their judgment, did the "Breakfast-Table-Talk," of the Hen-pecked Husband (subsequently pubhshed in the Almanac of the current year), make amends for the writer's former productions. Albert Smith's contributions to the pages of " Punch," were the "Physiologies of the London Medical Student," " London Idler," and " Evening Parties," with other miscellaneous matter. Much of the author's own personal experience is probably comprised in the for- CxTA-LOGUE OF SOLflCES. 679 mer, and his fellow-students and intimates at Middlesex Hospital were at no loss to identify the majority of the characters introduced. Mr. Smith's conn -action with " Punch" was not of long continuance, A severe criticism appearing subsequently in its columns, on his novel of the " Marchioness of Brinvilliers" (published in " Bentley's Mis- cellany," of which journal he was then editor), he, in retaliation, made an onslaught on " Punch" in another story, the " Pottleton Legacy," where it figures under the title of the Cracker. Mr. Gilbert a'Beckett, who had before been engaged in many un- successful periodicals, found in " Punch" ample scope for his wit and extraordinary faculty of punning. In "The Comic Blackstone," "Pohtical Dictionary," "Punch's Noy's Maxims," and the "Autobi- ography, and other papers relating to Mr. Briefless," he put his legal knowledge to a comic use. Many fugitive minor pieces have also proceeded from his pen, and he has but few equals in that gro- tesque form of hybrid poetry known as Macaronic. He is now a London magistrate, and par excellence^ the punster of " Punch." The Greek versions of sundry popular ballads, such as "The King of the Cannibal Islands," were the work of Maginn, Hood's world- famous " Song of the Shirt," first appeared in " Punch's" pages. Thackeray has also been an industrious contributor. Commenc- ing with " Miss Tickletoby's Lectures" (an idea afterward carried out in a somewhat different fashion by a'Beckett in his " Comic His- tory of England"), he, besides miscellaneous writings, produced the " Snob Papers," " Jeames's Diary," " Punch in the East," " Punch's Prose Novelists," "The Traveler in London," " Mr. Brown's Letters to a Young Man about Town," and " The Proser." Of the merits of these works it is unnecessary to speak. The " Book of Snobs" may rank with its author's most finished productions. " Jeames's Diary," suggested by the circumstance of a May-fair footman achiev- ing sudden affluence by raihoad speculations during the ruinously exciting period of 18-46, may, however, be considered only a fur- ther carrying out of the original idea of " Charles Yellowplush." A ballad in it, " The Lines to my Sister's Portrait," is said, to use a vulgar, tliough expressive phrase, to have shut up Lord John Man- ners, who had achieved some small reputation as " one of the Young England poits." Thackeray parodied his style, and hencetbrth tho voice of the minstrel was dumb in the land. Like Jerrold's " Caudle Lectures," of which many versions appeared at the London theaters, Jeames's adventures were dramatized. The " Prose Novehsts" con- tain burlesque imitations of Bulwer, D'Isracli, Lever, James, Fenni- more Cooper, and Mrs. Gore. The illustrations accompanying Thack- eray's publications in " Punch," are by his own hand, as are also many other sketches scattered throughout the volumes. They may be g Mierally distinguished by the insertion of a pair of spectacles in 680 CATALOGUE OF SOURCES. the corner. His articles, too, frequently bear the signature " Spec' Not until the commencement of 1855 did Thackeray rehnquish his connection with " Punch." An allusion to this, from his pen, con- tained in an essay on the genius of Leech, and published in the " Westminster Eeview," was commented upon very bitterly by Jer- rold, in a notice of the article which appeared in " Lloyd's Weekly Newspaper," of which he is editor. * During the last five years, other writers, among which may be enumerated the Mayhew brothers, Mr. Tom Taylor, Angus EeacH, and Shirley Brooks, have found a field for their talents in " Punch.' Only Jerrold, a'Beckett, and the editor, Mark Lemon, remain of the original contributors. Its course has been a varied, but perfectly independent one, generally, however, following the lead of the al- mighty " Times,^^ that glory and shame of EngUsh journalism, on pohtical questions. In earlier days it was every way more demo- cratic, and the continuous ridicule both of pen and pencil directed against Prince Albert, was said to have provoked so much resent- ment on the part of the Queen, that she proposed interference to prevent the artist Doyle supplying two frescos to the pavilion at Buckingham Palace. "Punch's" impartiality has been sho^vn by attacks on the extremes and absurdities of aU parties, and there can be httle question that it has had considerable influence in producing pohtical reform, and a large and liberal advocacy of all popular ques- tions. In behalf of that great change of national policy, the repeal of the Corn Laws, " Punch" fought most vigorously, not, however, forgetting to bestow a few raps of his baton on the shoulders of the Premier whose wisdom or sense of expediency induced such sudden tergiversation as to bring it about. O'Connell's blatant and veual patriotism was held up to merited derision, which his less wary, but more honest followers in agitation, O'Brien, Meagher, and Mitchell, equally shared. Abolition (or at least modification) of the Game Laws, and of the penalty of death, found championship in " Punch," though the latter was summarily dropped upon a change in pubhc c^inion, perhaps mainly induced by one of Carlyle's " Latter Day" pamphlets. " Punch" has repeatedly experienced (and merited) the significant honor of being denied admission to the dominions of con- tinental monarchs. Louis Philippe interdicted its presence in Prance, even (if we recollect aright) before the Spanish marriages bad provoked its fiercest attacks — subsequently, however, withdraw- ing his royal veto. In Spain, Naples, the Papal Dc»minions, those of Austria, Eussia, and Prussia, the hunch-backed jester has been often under ban as an unholy thing, or only tolerated in a mutilated form. Up to the commencement of the late war, strict meas- ures of this kind were in operation upon the Eussian frontiei", bii, " Punch" now is freely accorded ingress in the Czar's dominions — CATALOGUE OF SOURCES. 681 probably as a means of keeping up the feeling of antagonism toward England. Its success has provoked innumerable rivals and imitators, fix)m the days of " Judy," » Toby," " The Squib," " Joe MiUer," " Great Gun," and " Puppet-Show," to those of " Diogenes" and " Falstaflf." None have achieved permanent popularity, and future attempts would most likely be attended with similar failure, as " Punch" haa a firm hold on the likings of the English people, and especially Lon- doners. It fairly amounts to one of their institutions. Like all journals of merit and independence, it has had its law troubles, more than one action for hbel having been commenced against it. James Silk Buckingham, the traveler and author, took this course, in consequence of the publication of articles disparaging a club of his origmating, known as the " British and Foreign Institute." A Jew clothes-man, named Hart, obtained a small sum as damages from "Punch." But Alfred Bunn, lesse-e of Drury Lane Theater, libretto-scribbler, and author of certain trashy theatrical books, though most vehemently " pitched into," resorted to other modes than legal redi'ess. He produced a pamphlet of a shape and appear- ance closely resembling his tormentor, filled not only with quizzical, satirical, and rhyming articles directed against Lemon, a'Beckett, and Jerrold (characterizing them as Thick-head, Sleek-head, and Wrong-head), but with caricature cuts of each. Whether in direct consequence or not, it is certam that "the poet Bunn" was unmo- lested in future. Our notice would scarcely be complete without a few fines devoted to the " Punch" artists, and more especiafiy John Leech. Doyle (the son of H. B., the well-known political caricaturist), whose exqui- site burlesque medieval drawings iUustrative of the " Manners and Customs of ye Enghshe," will be remembered by all familiar with " Punch's" pages, refinquished liis connection with the journal and the yearly salary of eight hundred pounds, in consequence of the ^LUti-papal onslaughts which followed the nomination of Cardinal Wiseman to the (Catholic) Archbishop of Westminster. The ai-tist liCld the older faith, and was also a personal friend of " His Emi- nence." His place was then fified by John Tenniel, a historical painter, who had supplied a cartoon to the Palace of Westminster, and is stiU employed on " Pimch," he, in conjunction with John Leech, and an occasional outsider, furnishing the entire illustrations. John Leech, himself, to whom the periodical unquestionably owes half its success, has befen constant to " Punch" from an early day. He has brought caricature into the region of the fine arts, and be- come the very Dickens of the pencil in his portrayal of the humorous side of life. Before his advent, comic dra\^dDg was confined to very limited topics, outre drawiags and ugfiness of features forming the 29=^ 682 CATALOGUE OF SOUBCES. fun — such as it was. Seymour's " Cockney Sportsmen," and Cruik- shank's wider (yet not extensive) range of subjects, were then the best things extant. How stands the case now? Let "Punch's" twenty-nine volumes, with their ample store of pictorial mirth of Leech's creating, so kindly, so honest, so pleasant and graceful, an- swer. Contrast their blameless wit and humor with the equivoque and foul double entendre of French drawings, and think of the differ- ence involuntarily suggested between the social atmospheres of Paris and London. Leech is a good-looking fellow, approaching the age of forty, and not unlike one of his own handsome " swells" in personal appear- ance. The Royal Academy Exhibition of 1855 contained his por- trait, painted by Millais, the cMef of tiic pi\i-3,apnaelite artists, who is said to be his Iriend. As may be gathered from his many sport- ing sketches. Leech is fond of horses, and piques hknself on "know- ing the points" of a good animal, (We may mention, by-the-by, that Mr. " Briggs" of equestrian celebrity had his original on the Stock Exchange.) He in summer travels considerably, forwarding his sketches to the " Punch" office, generally penciling the accom panying words on the wood-block. In one of the past volumes, dat- ing some eight or ten years back, he has introduced himself in a cut designated "our artist during the hot weather," wherein he appears with his coat off, reclining upon a sofa, and informing a pretty serv- ant-girl who enters the room, that " he is busy." Quizzical portraits of the writers of " Punch" have been introduced in its pages. In Jerrold's "Capsicum House" (vol. XII.), the author's portrait, bur- lesqued into the figure of " Punch," occurs more than once. And a double-page cut, entitled " Mr. Punch's Pancy Ball," in the early part of the same volume, comprises sketches of the then entire corps of contributors, artistic and literary. They are drawn as forming the orchestra. Lemon conducting, Jerrold belaboring a big drum, Thackeray playing on the flute. Leech the viohn, and others extract- ing harmony from divers musical instruments. Again they appear at a later date, as a number of boys at play, in an illustration at the commencement of Vol. XXVII. " Punch's" office is at 85 Fleet-street. The engraving, printing, and stereotyping is performed at Lombard-street, Whitefriars, where its proprietors have extensive premises. See pp. 56, 57, 321, 322, 324, 325, 327, 328, 330, 331, 333, 334, 336, 338, 339, 432, 433, 434, 435, 436, 437, 438, 439, 440, 441, 442, 443, 444, 445, 446, 447, 449, 450, 451, 453, 455, 456, 457, 458, 459, 460, 461, 462, 463, 464, 465, 466, 467, 468, 469, 470, 471, 472, 473, 474, 475, 478, 480, 485, 492, 496, 497, 498, 499, 572, 573, 574, 575, 576, 630, 631, 632, 633, 654. 635, 636, 337, 638, 640, 643, 644. CATALOGUE OF SOUKCES. 68c •REJECTED ADDRESSES," by James and Horace Smitli, published in London, October, 1812. The most successful yew d' esprit of mod- ern times, having survived the occasion that suggested it for nearly half a century, and still being highly popular. It has run through twenty editions in England, and three in America. The opening of Drury-lane theater hi 1802, after having been burned and re- built, and the offering of a prize of fifty pounds by the manager for the best opening address, were the circumstances which sug- gested the production of the " Rejected Addresses." The idea of the work was suddenly conceived, and it was executed in six weeks. In the preface to the eighteenth London edition the au- thors give an interesting statement of the difficulties they encoun- tered in getting the volume pubUshed : *' Urged forward by our hurry, and trusting to chance, two very bad coadjutors in any enterprise, we at length congratulated our- selves on havmg completed our task in time to have it printed and published by the opening of the theater. But, alas ! our difliculties, so fer from being surmounted, seemed only to be beginning. Strangers to the arcana of the bqokseUer's trade, and unacquainted with their almost invincible objection to single volumes of low price, especially when tendered by wTiters who have acquired no previous name, we little anticipated that they would refiise to publish our ' Rejected Ad- dresses,' even although we asked nothing for the copyright. Such, however, proved to be the case. Our manuscript was perused and returned to us by several of the most eminent pubhshers. "Well do we remember betaking ourselves to one of the craft in Bond-street, whom we found in a back parlor, with his gouty leg propped upon a cushion, in spite of which warning he diluted his luncheon with frequent glasses of Madeira. ' What have you already written ?' was his first question, and interrogatory to which we had been sub- jected in almost every instance. ' Nothing by which we can be known,' 'Then I am afraid to undertake the pubhcation.' "We presumed timidly to suggest that every writer must have a begin- ning, and that to refuse to publish for him until he had acquired a name, was to imitate the sapient mother who cautioned her son against going into the water until he could swim. ' An old joke— a regular Joel' exclaimed our companion, tossing off another bumper. ' Still older than Joe Miller, ' was our reply; 'for, if we mistake not, it is the very first anecdote in the facetiae of Hierocles.' 'Ha, sirs!' resumed the bibhopolist, 'you are learned, are you? (So, holi 1 — "WeU, leave your manuscript with me ; I will look it over to-night, and give you an answer to-morrow.' Punctual as the clock we presented ourselves at his door on the following morning, when our papers were returned to us with the observation — * These trifles are really not deficient in smartness ; they are well, vastly 684 CATALOGUE OF SOUIvCES. well for beginners ; but they will never do — ^never. They would not pay for advertising, and without it I should not sell fifty copies.' " This was discouraging enough. If the most experienced pub- lishers feared to be out of pocket by the work, it was manifest d fortiori, that its writers ran a risk of being still more heavy losers, should they undertake the publication on their own account. We had no objection to raise a laugh at the expense of others ; but to do it at oiu- own cost, uncertam as we were to what extent we might be involved, had never entered into our contemplation. In this dilemma, our ' Addresses,' now in every sense rejected, might probably have never seen the light, had not some good angel whis- pered us to betake ourselves to Mr. John Miller, a dramatic pub- lisher, then residing in Bow-street, Covent Garden. No sooner had this gentleman looked over our manuscript, than he immedi- ately offered to take upon himself all the risk of publication, and to give us half the profits, should there he any ; a hberal proposition, with which we gladly closed. So rapid and decided was its suc- cess, at which none were more unfeignedly astonished than its au- thors, that Mr. Miller advised us to collect some 'Imitations of Horace,' which had appeared anonymously hi the * Monthly Mirror,' offering to pubhsh them upon the same terms. "We did so accord- ingly; and as new editions of the 'Rejected Addresses' were called for in quick succession, we were shortly enabled to sell our half copyright in the two works to Mr. MiUer, for one thousand pounds I We have entered into this unimportant detah, not to gratify any vanity of our own, but to encourage such literary beginners as may be placed in similar circumstances ; as well as to impress upon pub- lishers the propriety of giving more consideration to the possible merit of the works submitted to them, than to the mere magic of a name." The authors add, that not one of the poets whom they "auda- ciously burlesqued," took offense at the ludicrous imitation of their style. From " Su- Walter Scott," they observe, " we received favors and notice, both public and private, which it will be difficult to forget, because we had not the smallest claim upon his kindness. *I certainly must have written this myself!' said that fine tem- pered man to one of the authors, pointing to the description of the Fire, ' although I forgot upon what occasion,' Lydia White, a ht- erary lady, who was prone to feed the hons of the day, invited one of us to dinner; but, recollecting afterward that WiUiam Spencer formed one of the party, wrote to the latter to put him off; teUmg tiim that a man was to be at her table whom he ' would not like to meet.' 'Pray who is this whom I should not hke to meet?' in- quired the poet. '01' answered the lady, 'one of those men who have made that shamef'ol attack upon you I' 'The very man upon CATALOGUE OF SOURCES. 685 earth I should hke to know!' rejoined the lively and careless bai d. The two individuals accordingly met, and have continued fast friends ever since. Lord Byron, too, wrote thus to Mr. Murray from Italy : ' Tell him we forgive him, were he twenty times our satirist' " It may not be amiss to notice, in this place, one criticism of a Leicester clergyman, which may be pronounced unique : ' I do not see why they should have been rejected,' observed the matter-of- fact annotator; 'I think some of them very goodl' Upon the whole, few have been the instances, in the acrimonious history of literature, where a malicious pleasantry hke the 'Rejected Ad- dresses' — ^which the parties ridiculed might well consider more an- noying than a du-ect satire — instead of being met by querulous bit- terness or petulant retahation, has procured for its authors the acquaintance, or conciliated the good-wiU, of those whom they had the most audaciously burlesqued." James Smith died in London on the 29th of December, 1836, in the sixty-fourth year of his age. His brother survived him many years. Both were admired and ever-welcome members of the best society of London. See pp. 393, 396, 402, 408, ROGERS, SAMUEL— The Enghsh poet and banker, recently de- ceased. Author of a "pretty poem," entitled, "The Pleasures of Memory." In his old age, he was noted for the bitter wit of his conversation. See p. 566. «AXE, JOHN G— Editor of the " Burlmgton Gazette," and Wan- dering Minstrel. The witty poems of Mr. Saxe are somewhat in the manner of Hood. To be fully appreciated they must be heard, as they roll in sonorous volumes, from his own hps. His collected poems were published a few years ago by Ticknor & Fields, and have already reached a ninth edition. See pp. 68, 69, 343. 519, 577, 578. ■^JOTT, SIR WALTER— Bom 1771; died, 1832. Sir Walter Scott, though he excelled all his cotemporaries in the humorous deUnea- tion of character, wrote little humorous verse. The two pieces published in this volume are so excellent that one is surprised to find no more of the same description in his wi'itings. See pp. 115, 559. SHERIDAN, DR. THOMAS— Noted for bemg an intimate friend of Dean Swift, and the grandfather of Richard Brinsley SheridaiL Bom m 1684 ; died in 1738. He was an eccentric, witty, some- what learned, Dublin schorlmaster. He published some sermons 686 CATALOGUE or SOURCES, and a translation of Persius; acquired great celebrity as a teacher*, but through the imprudence that distinguished the family, closed hia life in poverty. "We may infer from the few specimens of his face- tious writhigs that have been preserved that he was one of the wittiest of a nation of wits. One or two of his epigrams are ex- quisitely fine. See pp. 212, 545. SHERIDAN", RICHARD BRINSLET— Author of the "Rivals," and the "School for Scandal." Born at DubMn in 1751; died, 1816. Sheridan must have written more humorous poetry than we have been able to discover. It is probable that most of his epigrams and verified repartees have either not been preserved, or have escaped our search. Moore, in his "Life of Sheridan," gives speci- mens of his satirical verses, but only a few, and but one of striking excellence. See pp. 281, 559. SMITH, HORACE— See " Rejected Addresses." SMITH, JAMES— See " Rejected Addresses." SMITH, REY. SYDNEY— The jovial prebendary of St. Paul's, the wittiest Englishman that ever Uved; died in 1845. Except the ." Recipe for Salad," and an epigram, we have found no comic verses by him. He "leaked another way." See pp. 40, 566. SOUTHEY, ROBERT— The English poet and man of letters ; born in 1774, Southey wrote a great deal of humorous verse, much of which is ingenious and fluent. He was amazingly dexterous in the use of words, and excelled all his cotemporaries, except Byron and Barham, in the art of rhyming. See pp. 26, 28, 105, 250, 388, 389, 390, 391, 392. SWIFT, JONATHAN"— Dean of St. Patrick's. Dublin. Born 1667 ; died, 1739. It were superfluous to speak of the career or abilities of this great but most unhappy man, who unquestionably ranks highest amid the brilliant names of that brilKant epoch. His works speak for him, and wiU to all time. Of his poetical writings it may be said that though only surpassed in wit and humor by his more universally known prose, they are infinitely nastier than any thing else in the English language. They have, however, the negative virtue of being nowise licentious or demoralizing — or at least no more so than is inseparable from the choice of obscene and repul- sive subjects. Nearly all his unobjectionable comic verses may be found in this volume. See pp. 204, 205, 206, 358, 359, 360, 385, 539, 540, 541, 542, 543, 544, 585, 586, 652, 653, 654, 655, 656 eS'', 658, 659, 660, 661, 662- CATALOGUE OF SOURCES. 687 fHACKERAY, WILLIAM IVIAKEPEACE— The greatest of living satirists. Born at Calcutta of English parents, in 1811. Most of Mr, Thackeray's comic verses appeared origuially in " Punch." They have recently been collected and published in a volume with other and more serious pieces. This collection contains nothing more mirth-provoking than the "Ballads of Pleaceman X," by Mr. Thackeray. See pp. 54, 184, 191, 318, 319, 59Y, 601, 603, 606, 610, 613, GIT. WAKE, WILLIAM BASIL— An Enghsh writer, contributor to "Hone's Every Day Book." See p. 102. WALLER, EDMUND— Bom in Warwickshire, England, in 1608. Poet, man of fortune, member of the Long Parhament, and traitor to the People's Cause. He was fined ten thousand pounds and banished, but Cromwell permitted his return, and the poet rewarded his clemency by a panegyric. See pp. 533, 534 WESLEY, REV. SAMUEL— A clergyman of the Church of En- gland ; father of the celebrated John Wesley ; author of a volume of poems, entitled "Maggots;" born in 1662 ; died in 1785. See p. 566. WILLIAMS, SIR CHARLES HANBURY— A noted wit of George the Second's time ; bom in 1709 ; died, 1759. He was a friend of Walpole, sat in parliament for Monmouth, and rose to some distinc- tion in the diplomatic service. An edition of his writings in three volumes was published in London in 1822. Time has robbed his satires of their point, by burying in obhvion the circumstances that gave rise to them. A single specimen of his writings is aU that was deemed worthy of place in this volume. See p. 87. WILLIS, N. P. — The well-known American poet and journalist. Mr. Wilhs has written many humorous poems, but only a few have escaped the usual fate of newspaper verses. Born at Portland, Mame, 1807. See pp. 60, 62, 63, 64, 65, 66. ITOLCOTT, JOHN (Peter Pindar), the most voluminous, and one of the best, of the humorous poets who have written in the Enghsh language. He was bom in Devonsliire, England, and flourished in the reign of G-eorge III., whose peculiarities it was his dehght to ridicule. No king was ever so mercilessly and so successfully lam- pooned by a poet as George III. by Peter Pindar. Wolcott was by profession a Doctor of Medicuie. In 1766, we find him accom 688 CATALOGUE OF SOURCES. panying his relative, Sir 'William Trelawnej, to Jamaica, of which island Sir "William had been appointed governor. While there, the rector of a valuable living died, and Dr. Wolcott conceived the idea of entering the church and applying for the vacant rectorship. To this end he began actually to perform the duties of the parish, read- ing prayers and preaching, and soon after returned to England to take orders, provideed with powerful recommendations. To his great disappointment, the Bishop of London refused him ordination, and the reader of Peter Pindar will not be at a loss to guess the reason of the refusal. Wolcott now established himself m Truro, and continued in the successful practice of medicine there for sev- eral years. At Truro, he met the youthful Opie. " It is much to his honor," says one who wrote in Wolcott's own hfetime, " that during his residence in Cornwall, he discovered, and encouraged, the fine tal- ents of the late Opie, the artist ; a man of such modesty, simplicity of manners, and ignorance of the world, that it is probable his genius would have lain obscure and useless, had he not met, in Dr. "Wolcott, with a judicious friend, who knew how to appreciate his worth, and to recommend it to the admiration of the world. The Doctor's taste in painting has already been noticed ; and it may now be added, that perhaps few men have attained more correct notions on the subject, and the fluency with which he expatiates on the beauties or defects of the productions of the ancient or modem school, has been amply acknowledged by all who have shared in his company. The same taste appears to have directed him to some of the first subjects of his poetical satire, when he began to treat the pubUc with the pieces which compose these' volumes. The effect of these poems on the public mind will not be soon for- got. Here appeared a new poet and a new critic, a man of un- questionable taste and luxuriant fancy, combined with such powers of satire, as became tremendously formidable to all who had the misfortune to fall under his displeasure. It was acknowledged at the same time, that amid some personal acrimony, and some affec- tionate preferences, not far removed, perhaps, from downright preju- dice, he in general grounded his praise and censure upon solid principles, and carried the public mind along with him, although sometimes at the heavy expense of individuals." Later in life Dr. Wolcott removed to London, where he died at £U advanced age. His writings were, as may be supposed, eagerly read at the time of their publication, but since the poet's death, they have scarcely received the attention which their merits de- serve. The present collection contains all of his best poems which are not of a character too local and cotemporary, or too coarse in expression, to be en,'oyed by the modern reader. See pp. 21, 22, 24 CATALOGUE OF SOURCES. 689 89, 90, 91, 93, 95, 216, 217, 218, 220, 222, 223, 226, 231, 233, 236, 238, 367, 546, 547, 548, 549, 550, 551. TRIARTE, DON TOMAS DE— An eminent Spanish poet, bom at Teneriffe about 1760. He is known to English readers chiefly through his "Literary Fables," of which, specimens, translated by Mr. Devereaus, are given in this volume. Yriarte also wrote cora- edies and essays. See pp. 239, 241. RECEIVED. * ^^^BRAB^t *l^\ JJL 't^ V^ % ,^^ -v. -'J' .^V ^t. /' ^^ ^^^ .0 o '■^^ -^ - c^ .. ^ , ^Z- »^ *< ^ '^'V c .. .4>- ^ ■'■■' ■f-"i.~._ ^ '/ ^^%'- s>-\ ■•"./ ■ (1 ■ , V '■ aL'* , ^ '/' <^ <. 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