a4u4. 
 
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 PUCK ON PEGASUS. 
 
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 PUCK ON PEGASUS: 
 
 • H. CHOLMONDELEY-PENNELL, 
 
 A uthor of " Crescent i and other Lyrics," ii;'c. 
 
 ILLUSTRATED BY LEECH, TENNIEL, DOYLE, MILLAIS, SIR NOEL 
 
 PATON, PHIZ, PORTCH, AND M. ELLEN EDWARDS. 
 
 WITH A FRONTISPIECE P,Y GEORGE CRUIKSHANK. 
 
 SIXTH EDITION, 
 
 REVISED AND ENLARGED. 
 
 Honbon : 
 
 JOHN C A M D t: N H O T T E N. 
 1869. 
 
 <^f-o — o—f^
 
 <H — 0- 
 
 -« — Hy 
 
 London* : 
 
 K. CLAY, SON, AND I AVl.OK, rkl.MliRS 
 BREAD STRF.KT HILL. 
 
 iH — 0- 
 
 -0 — B^
 
 5-167 
 
 fH — 0- 
 
 [pref'acp: to fifth edition.] 
 
 T(> thi' most Worshipful, t/'ie Three Estates of the Realm 
 {and the Fourth especially). 
 
 (L^Ik bumble Itlcmoriul of tj)c (llnticrsigncb, 
 PEGASUS, 
 
 Skeweth — 
 
 (i) That your Memorialist, on making his fifth ai)pear- 
 ance in piibhc (this time as a four-year-old), desires to 
 avail himself of his prescriptive ])rivilege as one of the 
 "talking animals" to say a few words on his own 
 account. 
 
 (2) Memorialist would humbly represent that he is 
 much afraid lest the fine ladies and gentlemen in the 
 
 ii^-o 
 
 — \k'y
 
 iH—< — — ^^-4* 
 
 T/w huinble Memorial^ '^c. 
 
 Grand Stand, or, still worse, those busy, earnest men 
 down there, who are always making and unmaking 
 books, should leave him out of the betting as an "old 
 stager," or perhaps refuse to put any more money upon 
 him, because they think they have seen his best per- 
 formances already. 
 
 (3) Against such unkind treatment Memorialist would 
 respectfully protest. His (Memorialist's) master thinks 
 (and Memoriahst humbly thinks so too) that it's better 
 to stick to one horse, and do all you know to make a 
 winner of him, than to be constantly starting a lot of 
 fresh animals, which may perhaps turn out to be mere 
 weeds after all, or likely enough break down in their 
 first race. 
 
 Memorialist also alleges (what, poor beast, is true 
 enough, goodness knows !) that when lie entered for the 
 Trial Stakes he was but a foal — a mere schoolboy of a 
 horse, as it were, — and that, although he hopes he has 
 not altogether discredited the kind judgment of those 
 
 t 
 
 -o-
 
 'J'he hiimhle Afcmoria/, i^^c. 
 
 who supported him on that occasion, he has since under- 
 gone an uncommonly sharp course of training, which, whilst 
 getting rid of some superfluous lumber, has put on him 
 instead, he fancies, more of the real going stuff. In fact 
 in his own opinion at least, he has been gradually getting 
 into form ever since his first race, and is now a different- 
 looking quadruped altogether. 
 
 (4) On his original appearance Memorialist is conscious 
 that his paces were thought by some to be occasionally 
 rather too frolicsome — not to say skittish. His trainer 
 has, however, carefully studied to remedy this little pecu- 
 liarity, and has added to the establishment some couple 
 of dozen new " bits " of various degrees of solidity and 
 severity for Memorialist's especial benefit ; whilst that the 
 licking department generally has not been neglected may 
 be gathered from the fact that he has to acknowledge the 
 receipt of about the same number of extra " cuts " in 
 coaching for this very race.
 
 % 
 
 
 T//e Inimble Memorial, &'c. 
 
 (5) Under all these circumstances, Memorialist humbly 
 hopes tliat on this, his perhaps final appearance on the 
 same course, he may not be dismissed without a few 
 encouraging pats en passant from his old backers, or at 
 least a fair critical judgment of his capabilities in his 
 new form. 
 
 (6) In any case he means winning this time, and no 
 mistake ! — the Blue Riband or Westminster Abbey, — 
 
 and your Memorialist will ever pray. 
 
 'I'he jMews, iMoiNT Helicon.
 
 rfH 0- 
 
 dTontcnts. 
 
 I-AGF. 
 
 The Oxford atii Caiii'iritfyc Boat Rare i 
 
 How n'e got to the Brighton Revieic lo 
 
 /zy de MiUcfleurs i6 
 
 The Toad at the Great Exhibition 21 
 
 Song of Iii-the- Water 24 
 
 The Du ChaiUii Conlroi'ersy . . ' 27 
 
 John Murray s Ship Gorilla 31 
 
 The Fight for the Cha^npionship 36 
 
 The Petition 45 
 
 //'7i' tlie Daugliters come doton at Dnnoon 47 
 
 'The Poet' Close 50 
 
 Advertisemoit 53 
 
 Our Sweet Recruiting Sergeants 54 
 
 Sonnet 57 
 
 -O—l^?
 
 <v-+fb 
 
 Contents. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 All, Who? 59 
 
 ''^ Daily Trials'' 6l 
 
 Croquet 63 
 
 Derby Day 71 
 
 Lord Jollygreett s Courtsliip 77 
 
 A Fight 89 
 
 N'ot Exactly! 91 
 
 Lay of the Deserted Tiifliieuzced 94 
 
 TJie NigJit Mail North 97 
 
 I've Lost my 102 
 
 The VII I Crusade 106 
 
 Tlie Crossing-Sweeper no 
 
 In Medi(F7'os 117 
 
 The Well of Truth 120 
 
 Perils of the Fine Arts 129 
 
 '^ Rejected Addresses" 132 
 
 Fire! 137 
 
 IVus, Ever IVits 141 
 
 Charge of the Light (trish) Brigade 143 
 
 Too bad, you kuo7v 147 
 
 Ghostries 150 
 
 Waterloo Place 152 
 
 ■^-^
 
 {H 0- 
 
 Coiifents. 
 
 The M'a';sacrc of Glcnho 153 
 
 Ode to HampsteivJ 156 
 
 Our Traveller 160 
 
 Chinese Puzzles : — 
 
 77/,? Wedding Gifl 161 
 
 Etcetera 165 
 
 What the Prince of I dreamt . . 1 70 
 
 j4 Case in Lunacy 175 
 
 A Squeak from Dean's Yard 178 
 
 Exexolor ! 180 
 
 The Thread of Life: 
 
 Part 7. .183 
 
 Part If. iq5 
 
 Pa7t III. i()f, 
 
 
 --# 
 
 iH—<-
 
 -0 Hi- 
 
 Those that Hobgoblin call you, and sweet Puck, 
 
 Vou do their work, and they shall have good luck : 
 
 Are not you he ? " 
 
 MiJsiimnii'r Night' ^ Drrnni. 
 
 ->^.^
 
 <M — 0- 
 
 m 
 
 ^ 
 
 PUCK ON PEGASUS. 
 
 — S=<^M'5>^^ — 
 
 ^ylji^ 6^forb anb Camljritiijc §oat ilace. 
 
 (Souk time before i860.) 
 
 k HERE'S a living thread 
 that goes winding, 
 winding, 
 Tortuous rather, but easy 
 of finding, 
 Creep and crawl 
 By paling and wall — 
 ■ , v" Very much like a dust-dry 
 Tv'^V. snake — 
 
 From Hyde Park Corner 
 right out to Mortlake ; 
 
 -0 — \\\ 
 
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 s
 
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 Piick on Pegasus. 
 
 Crawl and creep, 
 
 By level and steep, 
 From Hammersmith Bridge back again to Eastcheap,— 
 
 Horse and man, 
 
 Wagon and van, 
 Jog-trotting along since the day began — 
 Rollicking, rumbling, and rolling apace, 
 ^Vith their heads all one way like a shoal of dace ; 
 
 And beauty and grace, 
 
 And the Mayor without mace, 
 
 Silk satins and lace. 
 
 And the evil in case, 
 Seem vvidiin an ace of a general embrace, 
 
 As if the whole place 
 
 Had set its whole face 
 To see the Oxford and Cambridge Race. 
 
 Over Putney Bridge 
 There's a curious ridge- 
 
 -0 — RJ
 
 The Oxford &• Cambridge Boat Race. 
 
 A swarm of something — it can't be midge? — 
 And look, on this side, 
 Where the arches are wide. 
 Lie two lines of blue just breasting the tide : 
 Side by side 
 Like shadows they glide, 
 With a background of everj^thing wooden and steel 
 That's driven by oar, sail, paddle, or wheel, 
 Striving and tearing, 
 And puffing and swearing, 
 With the huge live swarm that their decks are bearing, 
 And an everlasting struggle and reel — 
 Whilst over the water the merry bells peal. . . . 
 
 Has any one seen some grand, fleet horse. 
 At the starting-post of an Epsom course. 
 With nostril spread and chest expanding, 
 But like a graven image standing, 
 Whilst around, with restless eddying pace. 
 Frolic the froth and foam of the race? — 
 
 -0 — H\ 
 
 T 
 
 -0-
 
 \ii — — Hi; 
 
 J^uc/c on Pegasus. 
 
 So stood those two boats, the Hght and dark blues, 
 Mid craft of a hundred shapes and hues 
 
 That hned the Surrey side. 
 And so, as when waked to sudden speed 
 Darts from the cleft throng the flying steed, 
 
 They darted up the tide. 
 
 AVith a single bound, like a single man, — 
 Full seldom hath the brave river 
 Together seen ride 
 Such crews of pride ; 
 The long boats leap as they breast the tide, 
 And the stout oars bend and (juiver. 
 " Cambridge ! Cambridge ! " — " Now, 0.xford, now ! " — 
 Betwixt the crews 
 There isn't a pin to choose — 
 Not so much as the turn of a feather — 
 The Cambridge eight 
 Have muscle and weight, 
 But the short, sharp dash
 
 -0 — Hy 
 
 The Oxford t3^ Ca7nbridge Boat Race. 
 
 Of the dark blue falls like a single flash, 
 So wholly they pull together. 
 
 And they pull with a will ! 
 Row, Cambridge, row. 
 They're going two lengths to your one, you know- 
 The Oxford have got the start, — • 
 
 Out and in— in, out — 
 Flash, feather — feathei-, flash — 
 Without a jerk or an effort or splash. 
 It's a wonderful stroke, no doubt. 
 A wonderful stroke ! but a leeilc too fast? 
 Forty-four to the minute at least ; 
 For five or six years it's been all your own way, 
 But you've got your work cut out to-day, 
 Give 'em the Cambridge swing, I say. 
 The grand old stroke, with its sweep and sway, 
 And send her along ! never mind the spray — 
 It's a mercy the pace can't last .... 
 
 -0 — fi^
 
 -o— ft»: 
 
 Puck on Pegasus. 
 
 They never can live, tho' the Bridge is in sight . 
 Ha, now she lifts ! row, row ! . . . . 
 
 But in spite 
 Of the killing pace, and the stroke of might. 
 In spite of bone and muscle and height. 
 On flies the dark blue like a flash of blue light, 
 And the river froths like yeast. 
 
 "Oxford, Oxford! she wins, she wins" 
 
 Well, they've won ' the toss,' 
 You see, 
 Whilst the Cantabs must fetch 
 Their boats thro' a stretch 
 That's as lumpy and cross 
 As can be ; 
 And the men are too big, and the boat's too light. 
 
 But look ! by the bridge, a haven in sight — 
 A smooth long reach that's polished and bright — 
 
 And Cambridge may win if she can ; — 
 And the squall's gone down and the froth is past, 
 
 ^H — 0-
 
 rfH— «- 
 
 The Oxford 6- Cambridge Boat Race. 
 
 And you'll find it's the pace that kills at last — 
 
 You must pull — do you understand? — 
 So — put your backs into it — now or never — 
 Jam home your feet whilst the clenched oars quiver, 
 For over the gold of the gleaming river 
 They're passing you, hand over hand : 
 And a thousand cheers 
 Ring in their ears — ■ 
 The muscles stand out on their arms like cords, 
 
 Brows knit and teeth close set, — 
 And bone and weight are beginning to tell, 
 And the swingeing stroke that the Cam knows well 
 Will lick you yet. 
 Cambridge ! Cambridge I again — bravo — 
 Splendidly pulled — now, Trinity, now — 
 Now let the oars sweep — ■ 
 Now, whilst the shouts rise, 
 And the stretched boat flies, 
 And twenty thousand eyes and hearts 
 Leap ! 
 
 -0 — 5^
 
 t H — — H ! 
 
 I'urk on Pegasus. 
 
 Stick to it, boys, for the bonny light l)lue, 
 See how she Hfts her bow — 
 
 And its fluttering silk dasht with the spray 
 Steals forward now : 
 Cambridge for ever ! 
 
 What ails the crew? — 
 What ails the strong arms, unused to wax dull? — 
 And the light boat trails like a wounded gull * * *? 
 
 Swamped ! swamped, by Heaven ; 
 Beat, in the mid fight. 
 With the prize in sight, 
 As they were gaining fast, 
 Row, Cambridge, row I 
 Swamped, while the great crowd roared- 
 Wash over wash it poured 
 
 Inch by inch — 
 Does a man flinch? 
 
 '0 — m
 
 <M — 0- 
 
 The Oxford 6^ Cambridge Boat Race. 
 
 Row, Cambridge, row I — 
 Stick to it to the last — 
 
 Over the brown waves' crest 
 Only the oarsmen's breast, 
 Yet, Cambridge, row ! 
 One noble stroke, pulled all together- 
 One more ! ... and a long flash in the dark river, 
 And the dark blue shoots past. 
 
 -0 — H>-
 
 Ijolv) iui ciot to tbc ilh'iigbton |\ebieiu. 
 
 H ! Brighton 's the place 
 
 For a beautiful face, 
 And a figure that daintily made 
 is ; 
 And as far as I know 
 There's none other can show, 
 At the right time of year — say November or so — 
 Such lots of bewitching young ladies. 
 
 Such blows on the Down ! 
 Such lounges thro' Town ! 
 Such a crush at Parade and Pavilion !
 
 fiU—0- 
 
 Ho20 we got to the Brighton Review. 
 
 Such beaches below 
 (Where people don't go), 
 Such bathing ! Such dressing, — past Madame Tussaud !- 
 No wonder it catches the million ! 
 
 For bustle and breeze 
 And a sniff of salt seas, 
 Oh, Brighton's the place ! not a doubt of it ; — 
 But instead of post-chaise 
 Or padded coiij^es, 
 If you had to get there a P exctirsionaise — 
 I think you'd be glad to keep out of it ! 
 With their slap dash, crack crash, 
 And here and there a glorious smash 
 And a hundred killed and wounded, — 
 It's little our jolly Directors care 
 For a passenger's neck if lie pays his fare, 
 "Away you go at a florin a pair, 
 The signal whistle has sounded 1 "
 
 Puck on Pegasus. 
 
 Off at last ! 
 An hour past 
 The time, and carriages tight-full ; 
 \Y\\y this should be 
 We don't quite see, 
 But of course it's all a part of the spree, 
 And it's really most delightful ! 
 Crush, pack — ■ 
 Brighton and back- 
 All the way for a shilling, — 
 What 'prentice cit 
 But doesn't admit, 
 Tho' ten in a row is an awkwardish fit, 
 At the price it's exceedingly filling? 
 
 {Chorus of Passctigers.) 
 Crash, crack, 
 Brighton and back, 
 All the way for a shilling, — 
 
 <> 
 
 -0 — Hj
 
 How we got to the Brighton Rcvic7i>. 
 
 Tho' the speed be slow, 
 
 We're likely to go 
 A long journey before we get back d' you know, 
 The pace is so wonderfully "killing"! 
 
 Hoi "slow" d' you find? 
 Then off, like the wind — 
 With a jerk that to any unprejudiced mind 
 Feels strongly as if it had come from behind — 
 Away like mad we clatter ; 
 Bang— slap,— bang— rap,^- 
 
 " Can't somebody manage to see what has hap ?' 
 
 There goes Jones's head !— no, it's only his cap- 
 Jones, my boy, who's your hatter? 
 
 Slow it is,- is it? jump jolt 
 Slithering wheel and starting bolt, 
 Racketing, reeling, and rocking, — 
 Now we're going it !— jolt jump, 
 Whack thwack, thump bum]!, -
 
 m — — — — Hh 
 
 Puck on Pi'f!;asiis. 
 
 It's a mercy we're all stuck fast in a lump, 
 The permanent way is shocking ! 
 
 Away we rattle — we race — we fly . . . 
 
 Mrs. Jones is certain she's '' going to die,"' 
 (We've our own ideas on that point, you and I, 
 
 Some ' smoking ' abaft the funnel ! ) 
 Screech scream — groan grunt — 
 
 Express behind, and Luggage in front, — 
 If we have good luck, we may manage to shunt 
 
 Before we get into the tunnel ! 
 
 {C/iorus of Passengers.) 
 Jump, jolt, 
 Engines that bolt, 
 Brighton and back for a shilling — 
 Jolt jump — but we've children and wives. 
 Thump bump — who value our lives, 
 And you won't catch one here again who survives 
 The patent process of kilh'ng ; 
 
 14
 
 loJUiC p. 15.
 
 i .y.l. ^ ^ — 1^ 
 
 J/o7C' we got to the Brighton Rane^v. 
 
 {Chorus of Directors.) 
 
 With our slap dash, crack crash, 
 And here and there a glorious smash, 
 And a hundred killed and wounded ! — 
 It's little we jolly Directors care 
 For a passenger's limbs if he pays his fare, 
 So away you go at a florin the pair : 
 The signal whistle has sounded ! 
 
 
 IS
 
 tU — 0- 
 
 |b^ Dc llliKtfleuvs. 
 
 A RIGMAROLE. 
 
 on a time, 
 
 When pigs were swime, 
 (I must have the m or else 
 
 it won't rhyme,) 
 And hogs they went without 
 noses, 
 In tlie violet air 
 Of some sunny parterre 
 (Immaterial where, but on this side of there) 
 Bloomed Ivy the fair 
 De Millefleurs Saint Omer, 
 
 -O Hi 
 
 iH—O' 
 
 -0 H3:
 
 fii] 3 ^}. 
 
 An' (/e Milh'fleurs. 
 
 In ail island of lilies and roses. — 
 
 'TwouKl ha\e made you stare 
 To examine her hair — 
 
 It was all grown of red and white posies. 
 
 Young hyacinthe locks ! 
 For each lover she docks 
 A tress like a garland of tiowers, 
 All wreathed in a braid 
 By some witchery's aid 
 That's warranted never to fade 
 (So the maid 
 Says) whilst sun follows shade, 
 And the sprayed 
 Rain comes down on her head thro' the bowers- 
 
 I'm afraid 
 She must want a great number of showers I . 
 
 For her lovers, I mean, — 
 For herself, sweet sixteen,
 
 fi±-o — — Hh 
 
 I'luk oil Pe^^asiii. 
 
 Countess June, Duchess Summer, perennial May-queen, 
 The skies all seemed taken with dropsies; 
 And morn, noon, and e'en 
 They kept her so green 
 No velveteen ever was seen, or moreen, 
 Or betwixt and between, 
 In colour or sheen. 
 Like the satin-soft leaves in her short crinoline 
 As she glittered about thro' the copses : 
 I ween 
 You'd have been 
 In despair if you'd seen 
 Those small feet at the mercy of wopses ! 
 
 (Not to lean 
 On a hand the reverse of Miss Topsy's.) 
 
 But tho' excjuisite paws 
 Palpitations may cause 
 When they're white as the lilies of Youzzum, 
 And fairy-like feet 
 
 iS 
 
 #
 
 -0 — By 
 
 Ivy (h Milleflcurs. 
 
 Are remarkably neat, 
 They won't acf^ comnie vous elites, 
 For a pulse that don't beat — 
 I repeat, 
 Nymphs tho' sweet 
 Can't be reckoned complete 
 When they've not got a heart in their bosom. 
 
 But never mind, Ivy ! 
 The peerless in bloom, 
 Sleeping bewitchingness, dreaming perfume, 
 In your own little isle of delight, love. 
 If your heart is but small 
 You've got beauty for all, 
 And who says you're not in the right, love ? 
 Tears never made a heart li\'e, love ; 
 Smiles you have showers to give, love ; 
 And the wreaths of your spells 
 Are all Immortelles, 
 For they've nothing that time cares to blight, love. 
 
 19
 
 m-^ 
 
 Pittk on Pegasus. 
 
 So bloom awa)-, Iv}', 
 And Ivy shall bloom, 
 Glimmering sweetnesses, shedding perfume. 
 In her own fairy isle of delight, love. 
 If she'd no heart at all, 
 I would still be her thrall. 
 And swear I was perfectly right, love, — 
 Wouldn't you, 
 Sweetheart, too? .... 
 No? 
 Then there's . . . for a rosy goodnight, love ! 
 
 fH —
 
 
 la Jit cc p. -JO.
 
 -0 — m 
 
 ibln Coa^ i\i i\n C'jvcal (i-vhibition. 
 
 H, who is this stranger so black, 
 
 This Toad in the very small 
 7- hole, 
 
 I'hat ages since grew in the crack 
 Of the tree tliats now grown 
 into coal ? 
 
 It's clear he was famous of yore, 
 His blood is the sangrc azul : 
 
 His (juarters are \cv{ picjuc noir. 
 
 And his arms hoppant a la Cjrenouille ! 
 
 <H —
 
 fH — o- 
 
 Puck on Pegasus. 
 
 I'hen what awe must each bosom o'erspread 
 As we gaze on that petrified bark ; 
 
 On the bust of this quaint figure-head 
 That has yachted with Noah in the ark ; 
 
 When we think that these somnolent eyes 
 With morning primaeval awoke, — 
 
 That this solo (though sweet for its size) 
 Preluded Lab'rinthodon's croak ! 
 
 Come Mammoth and Mastodon back, 
 
 Iguanodon, Saurian grim — 
 You may rattle your bones till they crack, 
 
 But you can't hold a candle to him : 
 
 Trap, oolite, granite, and gneiss — 
 
 Here's a stratum will give you a hint ; 
 
 Azoics, you're shelved in a trice, 
 Sand, lias stalactite, and flint :
 
 rtH— <• 
 
 The Jl'di/ (if the Great Ryhihiiioii . 
 
 Hence, Ammonites ! yield to your fote — 
 
 You are gravelled for many a year ;— 
 Quartz, silica, porph'ry, and slate, 
 
 Walk your chalks ! you've no chance with what's here. 
 
 For there's nothing in bone or in shell 
 
 So ancient the savans can show, 
 As the 'restes' of this black little swell — 
 
 As the case of poor Johnnv Crapaui> !
 
 — m 
 
 ^oncj of ,|ln-tI)c-Mlatn\ 
 
 iH — 0- 
 
 HEN the summer night 
 f descended, 
 
 Sleepy, on the White- 
 witch water, 
 Came a hthe and lovely 
 maiden, 
 Gazing on the silent water — 
 
 Gazing on the gleaming river — 
 With her azure eyes and tender, — 
 On the river glancing forward, 
 'rill the laughing wave sprang upward, 
 
 24
 
 rtH H}; 
 
 S(>//g^ of In-fhc- Water. 
 
 Upward from his reedy hollow, 
 
 With the lily in his bosom, 
 With his crown of water-lilies — 
 
 Curling ev'ry dimpled ripple 
 
 As he sprang into the starlight, 
 
 As he clasped her charmed reflection 
 
 Glowing to his crystal bosom — 
 As he whispered, " Fairest, fairest, 
 "Rest upon this crystal bosom I " 
 
 And she straightway did according : — 
 
 Down into the water stept slie, 
 
 Down into the wavering river, 
 Like a red deer in the sunset — 
 Like a ripe leaf in the autumn : 
 From her lips, as rose-buds snow-tilled, 
 Came a soft and dreamy murmur, 
 Softer than the breath of summer. 
 Softer than the murm'ring ri\er, 
 Than the cooing of Cushawa, —
 
 Puck oil Pt'gasiis. 
 
 Sighs that melted as the snows melt, 
 Silently and sweetly melted ; 
 
 Sounds that mingled with the crisping 
 Foam upon the billow resting : 
 
 Yet she spoke not, only murmured. 
 
 From the forest shade primeval, 
 Piggey-Wiggey looked out at her ; 
 
 He, the very Youthful Porker — 
 He, the Everlasting Grunter— 
 Gazed upon her there, and wondered ! 
 
 With his nose out, Rokey-pokey — 
 
 And his tail uj), Curleywurley — 
 Wondered what on earth the joke was, 
 Wondered what the girl was up to — 
 What the deuce her little game was — 
 Why she didn't squeak and grunt more ! 
 
 And she floated down the river, 
 Like a water-proof (3phclia — 
 For her crinoline sustained her. 
 
 26
 
 Tflfiiif f>. 2<s.
 
 -"# 
 
 Cjrc gu Cbaillu Controbcrsn, 
 
 (JyAv- I he ''Snapping Tiirtlcy) 
 
 ^''-^' I AVE you read U P. Du 
 Chaillu ? 
 Chaillu of the Big 
 Baboon ? 
 He who slew the 
 fierce Gorilla 
 In the Mountains 
 of the Moon ? 
 
 All day long that injured ])erson 
 Rested on the bouuhs his ehin ;
 
 Puck on Pegasus. 
 
 Strangling spifflicated niggers 
 Just to keep his biceps in. 
 
 Nightly several score of lions 
 Yielded up their worthless lives ; 
 
 And there was a cry in Mickbos, 
 For the King had lost his wives. 
 
 ^Vrathful was the sable monarch 
 
 At their unexpected hops ; 
 For the brute had cooked the gruel 
 
 Of the Nymphs who cooked the chops ! 
 
 Thro" this land of death and danger, 
 Mandrake-swamp and stagnant fen,- 
 
 Where the spiders look like asses, 
 (And the asses grow like men) — 
 
 28
 
 -o — H^ 
 
 y/o: Du Chdillit Coittrox'crsy. 
 
 Where the Shniego-Mbouve' sitteth 
 Hairless underneath his hat, 
 
 And a white man is a dainty 
 Irresistible if fat, — 
 
 Where the alligator gambols — 
 
 Whaledike — in the black lagoon : — 
 
 Went unscathed R. P. Du Chaillu, 
 Chaillu of the Big Baboon I 
 
 Found the .Shniego-Ml)Ouve sitting, 
 Lengthwise, in the stagnant brake. 
 
 Saw the spiders — saw the asses — 
 (When he gazed into the I d<e) — 
 
 Twigged the Crocodile stupendous, 
 Winking with ferocious eye, — 
 
 Caught the Cannibals — the feasters 
 On cold missionary pie; - 
 
 i^ff— 0-
 
 <H — 0- 
 
 iH — 0- 
 
 Puck on Pt'oas/is. 
 
 Shot, and liagged, the fierce Gorilla, 
 To the music of the drum,— 
 
 Heard, fifteen miles off, his roaring, 
 Mellowed to a gentle hum ! 
 
 What, you doubt me ! gen'rous public, 
 Hear me swear it's no take in — 
 
 Owen says the throat's a larynx, 
 And look here's the beggar's skin ! 
 
 -0 — N> 
 
 .iO
 
 rfH— <- 
 
 (ANOTHER 'VP:RSI0X.) 
 
 Jobii glurrai^j's _Sbip 6orilla. 
 
 To the Tiinj of '-Yankkk Dot)i)LE D.VNUV.") 
 
 OW listen, all you 'possums, 
 
 And you angeliferous blossoms, 
 '})Out the cruizin' of a clipi)ing craft 
 I'll tell yer, ; 
 'J'hc stars and stripes she bore 
 Floatin" gaily at the fore. 
 And her name it was John Murray's 
 shi]) Gorilla, () I 
 
 The Ski])i)cr was Du Chall\-. 
 
 (Twigg the likeness to Sir Ralleigh ? ) 
 
 -c — R}-
 
 # 
 
 Flick on Pegasus. 
 
 To extinguish P]ruce and Duncan just the feller, O ; 
 
 Sez he. " My lads, set sail ! 
 
 "Give her bunting to the gale - 
 " Who'll dare tread upon the tail of my Gorilla, O ! 
 
 " Our decks what loafer climbs ? 
 
 " Here's a spankin' ' puff' by Times 
 " Comin' curlin' down her topmast like a wilier, O ; 
 
 ''The Trade monsoon's arisen ! 
 
 "Shake a reef out of the mizen — 
 "And success to tight John Murray's ship Gorilla, ()! 
 
 But whilst they was imbibin', 
 ■ And a chaff" 'nn' and a gibin', 
 
 And Du Chally w.as a chuckhn' like to beller, O 
 Came something hard and black, 
 ^\'ith an ark'ard kind of 'thwack,' 
 
 Just amidshi[)s of John Murray's shij) Gorilla, OI 
 
 ->— Hi'
 
 nfH-^>- 
 
 Joh7i Murray'' s Ship Gorilla. 
 
 When right in front appearin' 
 
 With redoubted Gray a steerin' 
 Rushed the 'Tizer and the Blazer mad to sell her, O ; 
 
 " Luff Ho ! " their captain cried, 
 
 " Give the Yankee a broadside, 
 "Here's a settler for John Murray's ship Gorilla, O." 
 
 Then each man stood to his gun, 
 
 And they blazed away like fun 
 Whilst Du Chally tugged and twisted at the tiller, O ; 
 
 Like Armstrong's ninety-eights 
 
 They pounded in his 'plates,' 
 And the figure-head of J.M. S. Gorilla, O ! 
 
 Down came his flag a mucker 
 
 And they fancied he had struck her. 
 And the skrimmagin' and pepperin' grew shriller, O ; 
 
 But Du Chally cried "Avast! 
 
 " Nail her colours to the mast, 
 " Lads, you hav'n't seen the last of the Gorilla, O ! 
 
 #■ 
 
 -0 — H^
 
 m — ^- 
 
 F/fc/c on Feg(7sus. 
 
 So scarcely had he spoke, 
 
 When a loomin' thro' the smoke, 
 All a flashin' and a bangin' 'nough to kill yer, O ; 
 
 Comes Murchison and Owen, 
 
 With a jolly squad in towin', 
 Bearin' down to help John Murray's ship Gorilla, O ! 
 
 Smart " liners " in variety 
 
 As hail'd t' the R'yal Society, 
 All a ridin' so majestic on the biller, O ; 
 
 Aloft the signal ran 
 
 " 77ie F.S. 'spects every 7?ian 
 ^'- Will shoju fight for stout John Murray s ship Gorilla, 6>/" 
 
 Fire flashed from Owen's eyes, sir, 
 
 x'\s he gave the martial 'Tizer 
 A hot shot twixt wind and water, like to fill her, O ; 
 
 And Sir Rod'rick com'd and chaff' d 
 
 As he raked her fore and aft, 
 Side by side with brave John Murray's ship Gorilla, O ! 
 
 34
 
 rfH — — H^. 
 
 John Murray s Ship Gorilla. 
 
 It would take a week to tell you 
 
 How they went at it pellmello, 
 And the Blazer and the 'Tizer got a spiller, O ; 
 
 How gallant Cajjtain Gray 
 
 From a roar, changed to a bray, 
 And tried the long-bow on John Murray's ship Gorilla,. (). 
 
 So I'll leave it an hiatus 
 
 For S. Hubert, his afflatus, 
 And with Owen a curvetting fit to thrill yer, O, — 
 
 Chally tootin' of his horn — 
 
 Gray still sticking to his stern — 
 Drop the curtain on John Murray's ship Gorilla, O. 
 
 <»^*i:.Q^Mci|k^::>^-,^, 
 
 ^$5H>« 
 
 Y
 
 iH — 0- 
 
 Clje Jfi^Ijt iox tlje CljampionsMp. 
 
 [as told by an ancient gladiator to his great grandmother.] 
 
 ARGE Heenan of Benicia, 
 
 By ninety-nine gods he swore, 
 That the bright Belt of England 
 Should grace her sons no 
 more. 
 By ninety-nine he swore it, 
 
 And named the " fisting " 
 day. — 
 '• East and west and south and north," 
 Said Richard Mayne, "ride forth, ride forth, 
 "And summon mine array." 
 
 II. 
 
 " Ride forth by heathy Hampshire, 
 "Of 'chalk-stream-studded' dells. 
 
 36 
 
 .o—\^P
 
 rtH-^- 
 
 m 
 
 The Fight for the Championship. 
 
 "And wake the beaks of Eversley 
 
 " Where gallant Kingsley dwells ; 
 " Spur fast thro' Berkshire spinneys, 
 
 " The broad Hog's Back bestride, 
 "And if the White Horse is scoured 
 
 " Mount up amain and ride : 
 "Spur, spur, I say, thro' England 
 
 " As the Giaour once spurred thro' Greece, 
 "Tho' Sayers were six he cuts his sticks, 
 
 " And Dickon keeps the peace." 
 
 III. 
 
 Fast, fast, thro' town and hamlet 
 
 The smart Detectives flew — 
 East and west and south and north 
 
 They watched the long day thro', 
 West and north — east and south 
 
 The word went flashing by, 
 " Look out for Sayers and Heenan, 
 
 "Policemen — mind your eye!"
 
 iiA — — k^ 
 
 -Puc/c on Pegasus. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Sir Richard's bold moss-troopers 
 
 Looked out uncommon keen, 
 From park and plain and prairie, 
 
 From heath and upland green ; 
 From Essex fens and fallows, 
 
 From Hampshire — dale and down — 
 From Sussex' hundred leagues of sand, 
 To Shropshire's fat and floweiy land, 
 And Cheshire's wild and wasted strand, 
 
 And Yorkshire's heather brown ; 
 
 And so, of course, the fight came off 
 
 A dozen miles from Town, 
 
 Then first stept out big Heenan, 
 
 Unmatched for breadth and length ; 
 
 And in his chest it might be guessed, 
 He had unpleasant strength. 
 
 ^ — — t* 
 
 38
 
 To face/. 38
 
 m-< — =H^^ 
 
 T/ie Fight for the Championship. 
 
 Anel to him went the Sayers 
 
 That looked both small and thin, 
 But well each practised eye could read 
 The "lion and the bull-dog" breed, 
 And from each fearless stander-by 
 Rang out that genuine British ciy, 
 " Go in, my boy, — and ivin I " 
 
 VI. 
 
 And he went in — and smote him 
 
 Through mouth-piece and through cheek ; 
 And Heenan smote him back again 
 
 Into the ensuing week : 
 Full seven days thence he smote him, 
 
 With one prodigious crack, 
 And th' undaunted Champion straight 
 Discerned that he was five feet eight, 
 
 When fiat upon his back : — 
 Whilst a great shout of laughter 
 
 Rose from the Yankee pack. 
 
 39
 
 *H — 0- 
 
 Puck on Pegasus. 
 
 VII. 
 
 As from the flash the bullet, 
 
 Out sprang the Champion then, 
 And dealt the huge Benician 
 
 A vast thump on the chin ; 
 And thrice and four times sternly 
 
 Drove in the shatt'ring blow ; 
 And thrice and four times wavered 
 
 The herculean foe ; 
 And his great arms swung wildly, 
 
 Like ship -masts, to and fro. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 And now no sound of laughter 
 Was heard from either side, 
 
 Whilst feint, and draw, and rally. 
 The cautious Bruisers tried ; 
 
 And long they sparred and countered, 
 Till Heenan sped a thrust 
 
 So fierce and quick, it swept away 
 
 40 
 
 -c— H^J
 
 The Fight for the Championship. 
 
 Th' opposing guard like sapling spray, — 
 And for the second time that day 
 The Champion bit the dust. 
 
 Short time lay English Sayers 
 
 Upon the earth at length, 
 Short time his Yankee foeman 
 
 Might triumph in liis strength ; 
 Sheer from the ground he smote him 
 
 And his soul went with the blow — 
 Such blow no other hand could dash — 
 Such blow no other arm could smash — 
 
 The giant tottered low ; 
 And for a space they sponged his face, 
 
 And thought the eye would go. 
 
 X. 
 
 Time's up 1 —Again they battle; 
 Again the strokes fly free ; 
 
 41
 
 iiA — 0- 
 
 -0 — H^. 
 
 Puck on Pegasus. 
 
 But Sayers' right arm — that arm of pride- 
 Now dangles pow'rless by his side, 
 
 Plain for all eyes to see ; 
 And thro' that long and desperate shock- 
 Two mortal hours on the clock — 
 By sheer indomitable pluck 
 
 With his left hand fought he ! 
 
 AVith his left hand he fought him, 
 
 Though he was sore in pain, — 
 Full twenty times hurled backward. 
 
 Still pressing on again ! 
 With his left hand he fought him, 
 
 Till each could fight no more ; 
 Till Sayers could scarcely strike a blow. 
 Till Heenan could not see his foe — 
 Such fighting England never knew 
 
 Upon her soil before ! 
 
 ^;f_<_ 0— f^ 
 
 <>
 
 HiA — — m 
 
 The Fight for the Championship. 
 
 XII. 
 
 They gave him of the standard 
 
 Gold coinage of the reahn, 
 As much as one stout guardsman 
 
 Could carry in his hehn ; 
 They made him an ovation 
 
 On the Exchange hard by, — 
 And tlicy may slap their pockets 
 
 In witness if I lie. 
 
 XIIT. 
 
 And every soul in England 
 
 Was glad, both high and low, 
 And books were voted snobbish. 
 
 And "gloves" were all the go; 
 And each man told the story, 
 
 Whilst ladies' hearts would melt. 
 How Sayers, the British Champion, 
 
 Did battle for the Belt. 
 
 HVr—O-
 
 fiH — 0- 
 
 -0 — H^. 
 
 Puck on Pegasus. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 And still, when Yankees swagger 
 
 Th' almighty "stars and stripes," 
 And put eternal bunkum 
 
 Into their neighbours' pipes — 
 With joke and gibe and banter 
 
 Long shall the -tale be told, 
 How stout Tom Sayers kept the Belt 
 
 And Yankee Doodle sold ! 
 
 44
 
 a-^- 
 
 T 
 
 -< — m 
 
 Cfje |1ctitioir, 
 
 H ! pause awhile, kind gentleman, 
 Nor turn thy face away ; 
 There is a boon that I must ask, 
 A prayer that I would pray. 
 
 Thou hast a gentle wife at home ? 
 
 A son — perchance like me — 
 And children fair with golden hair 
 
 To cling around thv knee? 
 
 Then by their love I ])ray thee, 
 And by their merry tone ; 
 
 By home, and all its tender joys, 
 AVhich I have never known, — 
 
 45
 
 ;{}+— ^ 
 
 -o—Hh 
 
 Puck oil Pegasus. 
 
 By all the smiles that hail thee now 
 
 By every former sigh ; 
 By every pang that thou hast felt 
 
 When lone, perchance, as I, — 
 
 By youth and all its blossoms bright, 
 By manhood's ripened fruits, 
 
 By Faith and Hope and Charity — 
 Yer'U let me clean yer boots ! 
 
 ^'S- 
 
 46
 
 /.,,.•/. lis.
 
 rft+— «>- 
 
 Ijotu the gaugbtcvs tome bolvin at Jlunoou, 
 
 [By R—b^-t S-tk—y.) 
 
 '/'//ere staitdyth 0)i the o)ie side of Dunoon, a hill or moleock of passyn^ 
 
 sleepncsse, and right slifiperie loithal ; loherenpon, in gaye t'wes, 
 
 y" youths a>id y" maidens of that towne do exceedingly 
 
 disport theinsek'es and take their pleasauncc ; 
 
 runfiynge both nppe and do7vne -with great 
 
 glee and joyoiisnesse, to the much 
 
 endangerment of their fair 
 
 tiekkes." 
 
 Kirke's Memoirs 
 
 ()\V do the Dauglners 
 Come down at Dunoon ?
 
 sH — J.ip. i 
 
 J^uc'/: on Fi'iiasits. 
 
 Daintily : 
 
 Gingerly : 
 
 'I'enderly ; 
 
 Fairily ; 
 
 Glidingly, 
 
 iSlidingly, 
 
 Slippingly 
 
 Trippingly 
 
 Skippingly 
 
 Clippingly ! — 
 1 )ashing and Hying, 
 And clashing and shying, 
 And starting and bolting, 
 And darting and jolting. 
 And rushing and crushing. 
 And leajnng and crec[)ing, 
 
 • > 
 
 4«
 
 To /nee fi. 49.
 
 i#i— « — — — — -. — 0—1* 
 
 Hoio the Daughters come down at Dunoon. 
 
 Feathers a-flying all — bonnets untying all — 
 Crinolines rapping and flapping and slapping all, 
 Balmorals dancing and glancing entrancing all, — 
 
 Feats of activity — 
 Nymphs on declivity — 
 Sweethearts in ecstasies — 
 Mothers in vextasies — 
 
 Lady-loves whisking and frisking and clinging on 
 True-lovers puffing and blowing and springing on, 
 Flushing and blushing and wriggling and giggling on, 
 Teazing and pleasing and wheezing and squeezing on, 
 Everlastingly falling and bawling and sprawling on. 
 Flurrying and worrying and hurrying and skurrying on, 
 Tottering and staggering and lumbering and sHthering on, 
 
 Any line afternoon, 
 
 About July or June 
 
 That's just how the Daughters 
 
 Come down at Dunoon ! 
 
 ^:$H — c>- Tqa; 
 
 4«) H
 
 ■0— -HJn 
 
 iiH~>- 
 
 *CI;c fott' Close. 
 
 (.1//: '■'■ BaDit'v A/n Clare's" Atroiiiit.) 
 
 CH ! botheration I what a perturbation 
 And exasperation in the Press arose, 
 At the first mintion of the Queen's 
 intintion 
 To confer a pinsion on the Poet 
 Close ! 
 There was the Tnie-blucs-man and 
 the Farthin-neuismati 
 All in the confushan fightin cheek by jowl ; 
 And the Whigs and Tories forgett'n their furies 
 In their indignation and giniral howl ! 
 
 5« 
 
 -o—\kP
 
 "# 
 
 ' The Poet ' Close. 
 
 First the Tittle-tattle and the Penny-rattle 
 
 Led off the battle with a puny squake, 
 Whilst the Big- tin-kettle and the 'heavy metal' 
 
 His hash for to settle took the liberty to spake ; — 
 "Shure 'twas most ongracious, not to say owdacious, 
 
 "And enough to bring the wather to their eyes, 
 "■ To take the loaves and fishes from the chilthren's 
 dishes, 
 
 "And bestow the Royal Bounty in su<h wise I 
 
 " If so be that noble Er-rls and infarior clnir-rls 
 
 " Has parties they don't love and daresen't bate, 
 " Let them squaze their purses to choke off the curses 
 
 '• And not foist their verses on the Public State ! 
 " 'Twas a worse than jobbery, and a right down robbery. 
 
 " For to give the ruffian fifty pounds a year, 
 " Becase the swate nobilities were dhreading his civilities, 
 
 " And ould Lord Lonsdale in a state of bodily fear. 
 
 "Themselves despiting, there was Carlisle writing, 
 " And Brougham inditing of saft-sardering notes, 
 
 51
 
 '>—Hh 
 
 Puck on Pegasus. 
 
 " And Viscount Palmerston a-cbuckling at the harm he's 
 done, 
 
 " And dipping his fingers in the county votes. — 
 " 'Twould be a wrong entirely, to be repinted direly, 
 
 " If the scribbHng blackguard on ' the List ' was placed, 
 " And should the Legislature support the crature 
 
 " Then for sartin shure the counthry was disgraced ! " 
 
 So the papers thundered, and the paple wondered 
 
 Whose nose had blundered into this hornet's nist ; 
 And the Queen, Heav'n bless her ! the Roy'l Redhresser, 
 
 Struck Close's name out of the Civil List. 
 Och ! then, what a rowing and a rubadub-dow-ing 
 
 And universal crowing filled the air, 
 With a gin'ral hissing, — but Lord Pam was missing, 
 
 And makin for the house-top by the garret stair ! 
 
 -0 — k^J
 
 rfij—o- 
 
 -0 — H^ 
 
 /" libbertiscmeni 
 
 OST, stolen, or strayed ! — Goodness only 
 
 knows Avhich — • 
 A confoundedly ugly terrier bitch. 
 Coat short, fore-legs long, colour mud- 
 i^^ dyish black. 
 
 (Item — bites freely :) no hair on the back : — 
 Whoso brings the above to Old-Lady Place East, 
 Will be rewarded ! ! (by getting rid of the beast). 
 
 — — H*
 
 #ur Sixrcft Eftruitrna Sergcunis. 
 
 " Down before his feet she knelt. 
 Her locks of gold fell o'ei- her." 
 
 F.rnVARD AND PHII.TPPA. 
 
 """XW OME look from the window with me, 
 
 '^ '^ ' Charley love, 
 
 They are marching this way thro' the 
 
 ■^ 
 
 gloom ; 
 
 With clatter of steel, 
 And echoing peal, 
 ^^ And a ringing reverb'rating hum 
 
 As they come ; 
 To the tuck of the Volunteer drum. 
 
 tf-^ —— o—^ 
 
 54
 
 r^j — __ — _ — m 
 
 Our S^c'fct Recruiting Scrgca/ils. 
 
 'Tis the tuck of the Volunteer druni — 
 
 Our own Volunteers, Charley mine, — 
 See, now their arms glance I 
 " Front form I — left — advance ! " . 
 
 As the long column wheels into line 
 
 It's divine 
 
 To watch how iheir bayonets shine. 
 
 From village and town they have drawn, 
 They've gathered from lowland and height, — 
 
 Their lasses have braced 
 
 The steel to their waist, 
 And ai-med them for England and right, 
 
 and to tight 
 For the banner that's waving to night. 
 
 Gallant hearts ! they are bound to our own, — 
 They are linked by each tie that endears, — 
 
 By hopes and by pray'rs — 
 
 By smiles and by tears — 
 
 4«H— 0- 
 
 — Hi 
 
 55
 
 jH — 
 
 iU — 0- 
 
 Fuck on Pegasus. 
 
 Long, long ring those shouts in our ears ! 
 
 Hark, three cheers — 
 Three times three for our brave Vohinteers ! 
 
 Adieu ! the bright pageant grows dark, — 
 Their jranks are beginning to fade — 
 
 The last glimmer dies . . . 
 
 There's a mist in my eyes — 
 Their voices come faint thro' the shade, 
 
 I'm afraid 
 That's siood nitrht to our Rifle Brioade ! 
 
 
 S6
 
 /■.■><■<•/ if'
 
 rfH— «- 
 
 -0 — t-t, 
 
 Soiuict. 
 
 By II. C. PENNELL, 
 
 To HIMSELF. 
 
 (Substituted for that to Mr. Tupper in former editions.) 
 
 H Puck, O Pennell I didst thou write a 
 song 
 To Martin Tupper, love of many a 
 maid. 
 Wherein thou pouredst vials hot and 
 strong, 
 And saidst some things more sweet to leave unsaid, — 
 And did that wronged, but calm and jubilant swan. 
 Stung with just wrath, thy vanities reprove, 
 Yet with fair speech and less in hate than love 
 
 9^—0- 
 
 57
 
 irt— 0- 
 
 Puck on Pegasus. 
 
 Acting his own philosophy, heart-strong? — 
 Then for thy sins, O Pennell, shalt thou sit. 
 And with expiant agonies give birth 
 To the worst Sonnet ever sung on earth, 
 And it shall stand for that which thou hast ^vrit : 
 So shall thy breast of conscience-prick have ease, 
 And injured Tupper poetize in peace ! 
 
 P/uckcd for roasting 
 
 -0 — BJ: 
 
 5S
 
 r£H--C>- 
 
 -0 — HY 
 
 %h W^o ? 
 
 HO comes so damp by grass and 
 
 grave 
 -- At ghastly twilight hour, 
 And bubbles forth his pois'nous 
 breath 
 On ev'ry shudd'ring flow'r? 
 
 Who dogs the houseless wanderer 
 
 Upon the wintry wold ; 
 And kisses — with his frothy lips — 
 
 The clammy brow and cold ? 
 
 Who, hideous, trails a slimy form, 
 
 Betwixt the moonlight pale. 
 And the pale, fearful, sleeping face ?- 
 
 59
 
 iit—^ 
 
 -0—tib 
 
 Puck on Pegasus. 
 
 Our little friend — the Snail. 
 
 '''-^'^^^=^--^''- 
 
 -::_ 
 
 
 ^ -L ^—.-^^ 
 
 
 ' -^ — ~-^ 
 
 *- — — ^ 
 
 -- — aM^Mih 
 
 
 
 
 
 --=^11111 
 
 if 
 
 
 <t^ 
 
 \^- 
 
 -♦— BH 
 
 60
 
 *H — 0- 
 
 -0 — Hi 
 
 ^H — 0- 
 
 Bmh Cnals." 
 
 HV A DYSPEPTIC. 
 
 UNCH, sir? yes-ser, pickled salmon 
 
 Cutlets Kidneys Greens 
 
 and " " Gammon ! 
 
 Have you got no wholesome 
 
 meat, sir? 
 Flesh or fowl that one can 
 eat, sir?'' 
 "Eat, sir? yes-ser, on the dresser 
 Pork, sir" — "Pork, sir, I detest, sir" — 
 "Lobsters?" "Are to me unblest, sir" — 
 "Duck and Peas?" "I can't digest, sir" — 
 "Puff, sir?" "Stuff, sir!" "Fish, sir?" "Pish, sir!" 
 "Sausage?" "Sooner eat the dish, sir — 
 
 " Shrimps, sir ? prawns, sir ? crawfish ? winkle ? 
 Scallops ready in a twinkle ? 
 
 6i
 
 ^H — c«- 
 
 iU — 0- 
 
 Puc/i on Pegasus. 
 
 Wilks and cockles, crabs to follow ! " 
 " Heav'ns, nothing I can swallow ! " 
 
 "WAITAR!!" 
 
 " Yes-sar." 
 " Bread for twenty — 
 I shall starve in midst of plenty ! " 
 
 -0 — HY 
 
 
 62
 
 *H — 0- 
 
 -0 Hi 
 
 BOOtiHT. 
 
 ( To the tune of the " Great Sensation.^^) 
 
 {Syniphoiiy). 
 
 Most croquet is cheating. 
 
 Most roquet mere folly, 
 And yet we know 
 Some belles and beaux 
 
 Who fancy it's most jolly. 
 
 {Solo Soprano.) 
 
 " Come into the garden-mud." — 
 
 {Tutti.) 
 
 Then come into the garden-mud ; 
 To stop in-doors all bosh is ; 
 
 M\ — 0-
 
 i i] o—v'^. 
 
 Puck on PemsHS. 
 
 There is, 'tis true, 
 A heavyish dew, 
 But we've got on goloshes. 
 
 {Chorus^ 
 
 Pooh-pooh, bother the dew ! 
 
 Balmoral and castor ; 
 The more you try to stick in the dry 
 
 It only rains the faster. 
 
 * * » 
 
 "Now, Mr. Blue, 
 
 We're waiting for you. 
 And mind don't miss your hoop, sir; 
 
 For Mrs. Pink 
 
 Plays next, I think, 
 And has you like a scoop, sir." 
 
 " Ah, there you go ! 
 I told you so ; 
 You'll make your side repent all ; 
 It's no excuse 
 
 ^;)— 6 ■ — 0—1:$; 
 
 64
 
 rfH— *- 
 
 Croquet. 
 
 To be of ' use ' — 
 (When you can't be ornamental)." 
 
 {Chorus.) 
 
 Rats, balls, ready for squalls. 
 
 Nothing but disaster ; 
 The more you try to go ahead 
 
 You're only stoj^ped the faster. 
 
 "So Mellon's dead"- — 
 " Yes, so it's said." — 
 " Of course you're charmed with Lucca ? 
 I rather think — " 
 "Oh, hang that Pink I 
 Was ever such a fluker." 
 
 " Miss Black, your hoop — " 
 "... Resembles Cup- 
 id's bow, (or vice versa)" — 
 
 " Well spooned. Miss Red, 
 
 65 
 
 -0— S'
 
 ^ — Hh 
 
 PiicJz on Pegasus. 
 
 That's not so bad — 
 (As 'twould be if 'twere worser!)" 
 
 { Chorus). 
 
 Fie, fie, spoon on the sly, 
 What turpitude is vaster ! 
 The more you try to place yourself 
 You're only croqued faster 
 
 " So, as I said 
 
 (Green after Red), 
 Miss Dash was much admired, 
 
 And she was vext" — 
 
 " Do I go next ? 
 I'm actually wired 
 
 Thro' I declare !" 
 "No spooning there! — 
 " 'Twas nothing but a push, sir " — 
 "It's you to play" — 
 
 66
 
 Croquet. 
 
 "Where am I, eh?" — 
 Stuck in the holly-bush, sir ! 
 
 {CJionis^) 
 
 Push, poke, spoon, fluke, 
 Squabbling Miss and Master, 
 The more one tries to save oneself, 
 One's only croqued faster. 
 
 " Oh, here's a lark ! 
 
 It's getting dark, 
 I'm oft" to dress for dinner ; 
 
 Adoo, sweet Pink, 
 
 I rather think 
 We're just a hoop the winner ! 
 
 So that's a sell I . . . " 
 But hark ! a bell — 
 That sound each bosom crazes, 
 They scatter here 
 
 67 
 
 <^-t:?:
 
 -0 — H^ 
 
 J^uc^ OH Fi'gasHS. 
 
 And shatter there, 
 And knock their friends to blazes. 
 
 {C/wriis.) 
 
 Flounce, pounce, nothing but bounce. 
 What folly can be vaster ! 
 
 The more you try to finish it off 
 It only sticks the faster. 
 
 Miss Green the stout, 
 
 Who skips about 
 In Taglioni fashion 
 
 (So spirituelle /) 
 
 Trips in the bell 
 And flies off in a passion. 
 
 {Great Glee ) 
 
 " Lightly trip it, fairy Green." 
 
 Excited Black 
 Gives Red a crack 
 That hors de eombat puts her ; 
 
 68
 
 rfH— 0- 
 
 -U 
 
 C 'nujiiet. 
 
 And pretty Brown 
 Her bat brings down 
 Upon her pretty foot, sir. 
 
 {^Disconcerted Piece). 
 
 " As Ajax strives some rock's vast weight to thro\ 
 He lets it fall, and drops it on Iiis toe." 
 
 Now Red, I say — 
 
 She's run away. 
 Such conduct most morose is ; 
 
 And nought's been seen 
 
 Of gentle Green 
 Since her apotheosis. 
 
 'J'here's Brown eloped. 
 
 And Orange sloped, 
 (The last flirtee of Yellow's) — 
 
 And scolded Black 
 
 Won't be called hack, 
 Tho' Echo burst his bellows. — 
 
 69
 
 *f-«- 
 
 m — c- 
 
 Fuc/c OH Fegasiis. 
 
 {Diiette.) 
 
 "Can storied urn or animated bust?' 
 
 So, Pink and Blue, 
 
 It's you '■ to do,' 
 Since that's the way to put it— 
 
 And if not quick 
 
 You reach your stick, 
 Take my advice and — cut it ! 
 yChorus, (as a Solo)\ 
 
 Curt pert, girls that flirt, 
 
 Cornet, pup, and pastor, 
 'J'he more you try to call 'em back 
 
 They only go the faster. 
 [Final Chorus, (as a Rcfraiji).\ 
 
 -0 — H^ 
 
 70
 
 nfH— <- 
 
 -^ 
 
 ^H-^- 
 
 §txhu gas. 
 
 .53 
 
 H ! who will over the Downs 
 
 with me? 
 
 ^lOver Epsom Downs, and away — 
 
 ■5 
 
 I The Sun has got a tear in his 
 
 <2\e, 
 
 And the morning mists are light 
 
 and high ; — 
 
 We shall have a splendid day. 
 
 And splendid it is, by all that's hot !- 
 
 -0 — Hf}- 
 
 7'
 
 -0 — Hi 
 
 Prick on Pegasus. 
 
 A regular blaze on the hill ; 
 And the turf rebounds from the light-shod heel 
 And the tapering spokes of the delicate wheel 
 '\^^ith a springy-velvety sort of a feel 
 
 That fairly invites " a spill." 
 Splendid, I say, but we musn't stoj). 
 The folks are beginning to run : 
 Is yonder a cloud that covers the course? 
 No, it's fifty thousand — man and horse — 
 Come out and see the fun. 
 
 So — just in time for the trial spin ; 
 The jocks are cantering out, — 
 We shall have the leaders round in a crack, 
 And a hundred voices are shouting '' back," 
 But nobody stirs a foot ! 
 There isn't a soul a soul will budge 
 So much as an inch from his place, 
 Tho' the hue of the Master's scarlet coat 
 
 72 
 
 -<> 
 
 a^.. 
 %
 
 Derby Day. 
 
 Is a joke compared to his face. 
 "To the ropes! to the roi)es ! " — 
 Now stick to your hold, — 
 A breezy flutter of crimson and gold, 
 And the crowd are swept aside, — 
 You can see the caps as they fall and rise 
 Like a swarm of variegated flies 
 Coming. glittering up the ride; 
 " To the ropes, for your life ! . . . Here they come 
 there they go — " 
 
 The ex(]^uisite graceful things ! 
 In the very sport of their strength and pride : 
 Ha ! that's the Favourite — look at his stride, 
 It suggests the idea of wings : 
 And the glossy neck is arched and firm 
 In spite of the flying pace ; 
 The jockey sticks to his back like glue. 
 And his hand is cpiick and his eye is true, 
 Ami whatever skill and pluck can do 
 'J'hey will do to get the race. 
 
 73 
 
 -0 — H\
 
 *H — 0- 
 
 iM — 0- 
 
 I^/a-k on Pegasus. 
 
 The colt with the bright broad chest, 
 
 Will run to win to day — 
 
 There's fame and fortune in every bound 
 
 And a hundred and fifty thousand pound 
 
 Staked on the gallant Bay ! 
 
 " TheVre off!" . . . . 
 And away at the very first start, 
 " Hats down ! hats down in front ! 
 " Down there, you sir in the wide-awake ! " 
 The tightened barriers quiver and shake 
 But they bravely bear the brunt. 
 
 A hush, like death, is over the crowd- 
 D'you hear that distant cry ? . . . 
 
 Then hark how it gathers, far and near. 
 One rolling, ringing, rattling cheer 
 As the race goes dashing by, 
 
 74
 
 rfH— <- 
 
 Derby Day. 
 
 And away with the hats and caps in the air, 
 And the horses seem to fly ! . . . 
 
 Forward ! forward ! at railway speed, 
 There's one that has fairly taken the lead 
 In a style that can scarce miscarry ; 
 Over and on, like a flash of light, 
 And now his colours are coming in sight. 
 Favourite ! Favourite ! — scarlet and white — 
 He'll win, by the Lord Harry ! ! 
 If he can but clear the Corner, I say, 
 The Derby is lost and won — 
 It's a fearful shave, but he'll do the trick, 
 Now ! Now ! — well-ridden — he's passing it quick. — 
 His round! . . . 
 
 No, he isn't ; he's broken his neck, 
 And the jockey his collar bone : 
 And the whirhsind race is over his head, 
 Without stopping to ask if he's living or dead, — 
 Was there ever such rudeness known ?
 
 iii — *- 
 
 iH — 0- 
 
 -0 — m 
 
 Puck 0/1 Pegasus. 
 
 He fell like a trump in the foremost place- 
 He died with the rushing wind on his face- 
 At the wildest bound of his glorious pace — 
 In the mad exulting revel ; 
 He left his shoes to his son and heir, 
 His hocks to a champagne dealer at Ware, 
 A lock of his hair 
 To the Lady-Mare, 
 And his hoofs and tail to the devil. 
 
 -0 — \^\ 
 
 76
 
 -0 — Hy. 
 
 J'ort) JoKugrccu's (L^ourtsbip. 
 
 A POET WRITES I'o HIS FRIKNI). P/tUe — COl.NEV HATCH. T/we — 
 PROBABLY 'SATl'RDAV NIGHT ABofT TWO o'ci.fK'K IN IHK 
 MORNING.' 
 
 ' Dt'ijr my friend and ftiknv-stiidcnt, I looii/i/ lean my spirit o'er voii ; 
 Do'.on the piirplcof tliis ehaml>er, tears slioiiht scareeiy run at 7i<il/."(! ; :) 
 
 yO Ho, Ha Ha, He He,— Hum ! .' ! ! O 
 
 Charley, let me weej) adown your 
 ^ Manly bosom ! o'er ///a/ chamber, tears 
 js must surely run ad libi. — 
 
 77
 
 mr-< -o— -W: 
 
 I^uc/: on Pegasus. 
 
 I'm a victim ! friend and pitcher ! — done incontinently 
 brown- — your 
 Poet is immensely diddled by a — but narrabo tibi : — 
 
 You know, Charley, where I saw my Marianne (first) in 
 
 Belgravia ; 
 And (secundo) how I loved her, with more love than 
 
 kith or kin do : 
 Tertio how I won, and wed her yestermorn — and her 
 
 behaviour 
 You shall hear in iive words — last night, she exodnsed by 
 
 the 7inndow ! / 
 
 O my Charley, you remember on that cold fifth of 
 November, 
 
 7^
 
 M—< M* 
 
 Lon/ Jollygreeii's Court ship. 
 
 As we sauntered slowly eastAvard, with the weed between 
 
 our lips ; 
 How we spied a damsel beauteous, lymphomatically 
 
 duteous, 
 {Id est: cook at Number 7, scrubbing of the kitchen steps) 
 
 Charley, you and I remember, on that bright fifth of 
 
 November, 
 How she knelt there like a statue, — knelt bare-armed 
 
 in the breeze, — 
 Whilst her saponaceous lavement catalambanized the 
 
 pavement, 
 And her virginal white vesture fluttered, reefed-wise, to 
 
 the knees. 
 
 Spell-bound in the road behind her, paused the Hurdy 
 
 Gurdy (irinder. 
 Strangling in his aberration Jumping Jimmy the baboon ; 
 
 — f* 
 
 79
 
 'ii\ — >—B*. 
 
 Puck 0)1 Pci^asKS. 
 
 Whilst the Genius of the Organ, fascinated by her Gorgon 
 Beauty, stood enraptured — captured — playing wildly out 
 of tune. 
 
 Then with her blue eyes entrancing, and her taper ankle 
 
 glancing, 
 And her rounded arms akimbo resting on her dainty 
 
 waist ; 
 She half turned, — and turning threw me one glance 
 
 "utterly to undo me" — 
 (Well, I swear 'twas »ie she looked at, Charley, and she 
 
 showed her taste !) 
 
 Evermore my soul beguiling, in arch silence she kept 
 
 smiling — 
 And my heart within my bosom, preternaturally hopped ; 
 vStill as near I drew, and nearer, fairer grew she yet and 
 
 fairer — 
 
 iU — 0- 
 
 8o
 
 rfH— 0- 
 
 Lord JoUygrceiCs Courtship. 
 
 On both knees upon the pavement (Miles's bags, my 
 Boy) I dropped. 
 
 Then — but why should I confide you, what you know as 
 
 well as I do ? 
 How she looked u]) like an angel, (I can see her figure 
 
 still !) 
 
 Si
 
 {j4— < >—p^ 
 
 Puck on Pegasus. 
 
 " I am yours, sir, if you'll take me— if you'll marry me 
 
 and make me 
 " A fine Lady, like my missis — won't you?" "Jove," cried 
 
 I, "I will!" 
 
 How thenceforward every morning, wet and wind and 
 
 weather scorning, 
 By the steps of Number 7, punctual as the clock I past, — 
 How my love grew daily stronger — strength'ning as the 
 
 days grew longer — 
 Till my Marianne consented, and we named the day at last. 
 
 How my Queen of cake and curry volunteered a muffin-worry, 
 How I fondly made my advent somewhat ere the time 
 
 for spread, — 
 And on going to the cupboard like a second Mother 
 
 Hubbard, 
 Found the same, not " bare," but fill'd with six feet one 
 
 of Horse Ouards Red. 
 
 " Edward ! 'tis my only brother ! " — " Silence, Madam — 
 you're another : 
 
 ^4—0- o— t^ 
 
 82
 
 -O — Hi 
 
 Lord Jollygreeii's Courtship. 
 
 "Come out ot your cupboard, Lobster! from your shell, 
 
 O, private Brown, — 
 " Slave 1 (I said) base Kitchen-creeper! (said I) I will 
 
 close your peeper ! 
 "I will tap your claret, Lobster, — I'll — " 
 
 -but here he knocked me down. 
 
 S.^
 
 iiA — — — — — Hh 
 
 Puck on Pegasus. 
 
 How, soon after, whilst at breakfast, she forgot the door 
 
 to make fast, 
 When a step was heard descending swiftly by the kitchen 
 
 pair, — 
 And a voice cried "Now I've caught her!" — "Gracious! 
 
 jump into the water- 
 " Butt that's standing dry and empty, underneath the 
 
 laundry stair ! " 
 
 (Not to make this tale a long one) How I jumped into 
 
 the wrong one, 
 Which just then stood dry, but ev'ry morn was fill'd some 
 
 eight feet deep, — 
 How they pumped the water in it, ere I'd been ensconced 
 
 a minute, 
 And I rushed back to the kitchen looking like a drown ded 
 
 sweep ! 
 
 How, still chained by Love the Fetterer, spite of cupboard 
 and etcetera, 
 
 84
 
 rW — 0- 
 
 Lord JoUygrcen' s Courtship. 
 
 To Cremorne next day I took her, in a highly liberal 
 
 manner ; 
 Purveyed buns and ices satis ^ and a sherry-cobbler 
 
 • — gratis ! 
 (Tho' you know I do not, Charley, love to separate from 
 
 a tanner) — 
 
 How, when ev'rything was paid for, fun and fireworks 
 
 only stayed for ; 
 And my Marianne had eaten ev'rything that she was 
 
 able ; 
 Whilst the Resonant Steam-Dragon* (that's the tea-pot). 
 
 and the flagon 
 Of Lymphatic Cow (that's milk), stood smiling on the 
 
 arbor table, — 
 
 " Might she just step out and find her parasol she'd left 
 behind her ? 
 
 * " She has lialls and she has castles, and the resonant Steam-Eagles 
 "Follow far on the direction of her little dove-like hand." 
 
 S5
 
 m — o—-pM 
 
 Puck oil Pegasus. 
 
 " Whilst I kindly poured the tea out, and the cream that 
 
 look'd so yellow ? " — 
 Yellow ? Ha, ha ! blue, green, sink it I — She never came 
 
 back to drink it : — 
 I fell flununoxed in a brown.""" {study, understood, old 
 
 fellow). 
 
 Bad? well 'twas — but hearts arn't tin tacks {^/naiifiu/n ine, 
 
 vide syntax) 
 Even then I couldn't spurn her, satin-tongued, soap-soft 
 
 as silk, — 
 Not a stone his heart could harden, so divinely asked for 
 
 pardon : — • 
 I imbibed the obvious crammer mildly as my mother's 
 
 milk. 
 
 Viper ! (said I) — and forgave her : and she promised to 
 
 behave her- 
 Self in future like an angel (which she did, including 
 
 7C'///gs) 
 
 * . . . "I fell n.KKlcd in a dark."
 
 'I'fl/ncep. 87.
 
 rfH — — ' «>— P^ 
 
 Zon/ Jollygreeii' s Courtship. 
 
 And I fancied yestermorning (ass) that my reward was 
 
 dawning, — 
 So it was— and with a vengeance ! (ass again) But some 
 
 one rings ? — 
 
 Twas a cruel thing — but funny? — her eloping with her 
 
 Honey- 
 Moon just risen? — cutting, very, — and for me the world 
 
 is dead. 
 Slightly crushing to my hopes is this performance on the 
 
 ropes ! Miss 
 Marianne suspensa scalis — (would lA\ere sus. per col 
 
 instead !) 
 
 Ass that I was to be wedded !— AV'onderfully wooden- 
 headed ! 
 
 I'm a wiser man now, Charley, — ccrtcs, up to snuft" — hut 
 sadder, — 
 
 Oh, the fickle little Hindoo ! Facilis descensus window ' 
 
 ^1
 
 iiA — 0- 
 
 -0 M 
 
 Puck on Pegasus. 
 
 Oh — that bell again ! what's this ? * * 
 ^5 FOR THE Ladder ! 
 
 A Bill of 
 
 ss 
 
 -0 — m
 
 rtH — 0- 
 
 Lffi4— <■ 
 
 -5 — k¥ 
 
 % iW- 
 
 [" Fame must he conquered as a foe, not wooed as a mistress ; and 
 strength — strength naked, inborn, inherent — is the one power that can 
 conquer lier" — lln'vritten preface to " Drama/is Personcr. "] 
 
 O you want to beat? — 
 
 Do you want to win in the war? — 
 To strike your root like a bar thro' the rock 
 and live, 
 
 A name amongst men for ever? 
 Strip : strip ! that's tlic word- 
 
 i\o bar. no s])ell like that : — 
 
 89
 
 iU 0- 
 
 Hi; 
 
 Puck on Pegasus. 
 
 Strip ere you enter the lists, — 
 Off with the flimsy fence, 
 Away with the forge'd blade, 
 
 Peel to the breast, bare. 
 Then stretch your arms and set your teeth- 
 Look, the throat of the foe — 
 
 Clutch it, and down with him ! 
 
 Or^^ 
 
 90
 
 -0 — Hi- 
 
 Hot €*-att(i) [ 
 
 H ! whose, yon cottage by the 
 brook, 
 ;-- Yon cottage white and 
 ^- clean ; 
 
 f'ii' Can'st tell me, little village 
 W boy, 
 
 For 'tis a ])leasant scene ? 
 
 ^H — 0- 
 
 '^' A pleasant and a lovely scene, 
 Where innocence must dwell ; 
 Where gentle-hearted peasants learn 
 To love the sabbath bell. 
 
 Not theirs tlie strife for vulgar wealtii, 
 
 For sordid gain unbiest ; 
 Their simple wants are all supplied 
 
 From Nature's bounteous breast. 
 
 91
 
 -<^-±ib 
 
 Puck on Pegasus. 
 
 In peaceful labour flows their life 
 
 Amid such scenes as these ; 
 And ah ! methinks I spy a friend 
 
 Beneath the chestnut trees, — 
 
 A friend of man ! — that faithful friend, 
 Whose patience ne'er doth fail,— 
 
 Who lets the little Clodhoppers 
 Play mildly with his tail. 
 
 It is, // is ! Behold the beast 
 
 So rudely called an ass ! 
 Behold the beast who doth rejoice 
 
 In thistles more than grass ! 
 
 Then tell me whose these rural sweets ?- 
 These joys that toil reward ; 
 
 The purling brook — the whisp'ring trees- 
 The Edward on the sward —
 
 rm—0- 
 
 -0 — ^ 
 
 ^. 
 
 Not Exactly ! 
 
 The cottage with the rustic thatch ? 
 
 At length the urchin spoke — 
 '' That ere's where Fayther kills the pigs, 
 
 " And yon's his Cat's-Meat Moke."' 
 
 3f 
 
 93 
 
 -0 — H^
 
 iH 0- 
 
 -0 — m 
 
 X[\\) of tbc ^cscrtcb vilnfiumjceti. 
 
 (How you speak thioiigli your Z>o.se. ) 
 
 DOE, doe! 
 
 I sliall clever see lier bore ! 
 Dever bore our feet shall rove 
 
 The beadows as of yore ! 
 Dever bore with byrtle boughs 
 
 Her tresses shall I twide — 
 Dever bore her bellow voice 
 
 Bake bellody with bide ! 
 Dever shall Ave lidger bore. 
 \bid tlie flow'rs at dood, 
 
 94
 
 ^H — — ■ — H^ 
 
 Lay of the Desciied Infliienzad. 
 
 Dever shall we gaze at (light 
 Upon the tedtder bood ! 
 
 Ho, doe, doe ! 
 Those berry tibes have flowcl, 
 
 Ad I shall dever see her bore. 
 By beautiful ! by owd ! 
 
 Ho, doe, doe ! 
 
 I shall dever see her bore, 
 She will forget be id a l)onth, 
 
 (Bost probably before.) — 
 She will forget the byrtle boughs. 
 
 The flow'rs we plucked at dood, 
 Our beetigs by the tedtder stars, 
 
 Our gazigs od the bood. 
 Ad I shall dever see agaid 
 
 The Lily ad the Rose ; 
 The dabask cheek ! the sdowy brcnv 
 
 The i)erfect bouth ad dose ! 
 
 95 
 
 -0 — H*
 
 <H — 0- 
 
 iU — 0- 
 
 Puik on Pegasus. 
 
 Ho, doe, doe ! 
 Those berry tibes have flowd- 
 Ad I shall dever see her bore. 
 By beautiful ! ! by owd ! ! 
 
 -0 — Hy 
 
 ■^? 
 
 9«
 
 rfH-<- 
 
 4!+-0- 
 
 fjje Pflfet Kail Kort&. 
 
 (EusTON Squark, i{ 
 
 kl, OW then, take your seats ! for Glasgow 
 G^ and the North 
 
 W^ Chester !— Carlisle !— Holyhead,- 
 
 ^^-^^ ^^'^^^ the wild Frith of Forth 
 
 / 
 
 " Clap on the steam and sharp's 
 the word, 
 "You men in scarlet cloth: — 
 
 " Are there any more pas . . sengers, 
 " For the Night . . Mail . . to the North ! " 
 
 -e— Ra 
 
 97 
 
 -^ — BJ;
 
 ■<^-±ih 
 
 <? 
 
 # 
 
 -P//ck 071 Fegas7is. 
 
 Are there any more passengers ? 
 
 Yes three — but they can't get in, — 
 
 Too late, too late ! — How they bellow and knock, 
 
 They might as well try to soften a rock 
 
 As the heart of that fellow in green. 
 
 For the Night Mail North? what Ho — 
 (No use to struggle, you can't get thro') 
 
 My young and lusty one — 
 Whither away from the gorgeous town ? — 
 
 For the lake and the stream and the heather brown, 
 " And the double-barrelled gun ! " 
 
 For the Night Mail North, I say? — 
 
 You, with the eager eyes — 
 
 You with the haggard face and pale? — 
 
 From a ruined hearth and a starving brood, 
 "A Crime and a felon's gaol!" 
 
 < _ [j]" ! 
 
 98
 
 The Night Mail North. 
 
 For the Night Mail North, old man? — 
 
 Old statue of despair — 
 Why tug and strain at the iron gate ? 
 ''My daughter ! l'' 
 
 Ha ! too late, too late. 
 
 She is gone, you may safely swear ; 
 
 She has given you the slip, d' you hear ? 
 
 She has left you alone in your wrath, — 
 
 And she's off and away, with a glorious start. 
 
 To the home of her choice, with the man of her heart, 
 
 By the Night Mail North! 
 
 Wh ish, R ush, 
 
 Wh ish, R ush . . . 
 
 "What's all that hullabaloo? 
 
 " Keep fast the gates there — who is this 
 
 " That insists on bursting thro' ? " 
 
 99
 
 ^4—0 ^ — «H^?3 
 
 Puck 071 Pegasus. 
 
 A desperate man whom none may withstand, 
 
 For look, there is something clench'd in his hand— 
 
 Tho' the bearer is ready to drop — 
 
 He waves it wildly to and fro. 
 
 And hark ! how the crowd are shouting below — 
 
 " Back !"— 
 
 And back the opposing barriers go, 
 
 " A reprieve for the Cannongate murderer., Ho ! 
 
 " /// the Queen's 7iame — 
 
 " STOP. 
 
 " Another has confessed the crhue.''' 
 
 Whish — rush — whish — rush ... 
 
 The Guard has caught the flutt'ring sheet. 
 
 Now forward and northward ! fierce and fleet, 
 
 Thro' the mist and the dark and the driving sleet, 
 
 As if life and death were in it; 
 
 'Tis a splendid race ! a race against Time, — 
 
 And a thousand to one we win it : 
 
 iH — 0-
 
 nfH— <- 
 
 -5 — Hy 
 
 The Night Mail North. 
 
 Look at those flitting ghosts — 
 
 The white-arm'd finger-posts — 
 
 If we're moving the eighth of an inch, I sa\-, 
 
 We're going a mile a minute ! 
 
 A mile a minute — for life or death — 
 
 Away, away ! though it catches one's breath, 
 
 The man shall not die in his wrath : 
 
 The quivering carriages rock and reel — 
 
 Hurrah ! for the rush of the grinding steel ! 
 
 The thundering crank, and the mighty wheel ! — 
 
 Are there any more pas . . sengers 
 For the Night . . Mail . . to the North ? 

 
 m — 0- 
 
 -5 HJ- 
 
 I'fac JTost mi^ 
 
 EELER ! hast thou found my treasure,- 
 Hast thou seen my vanish'd Fair ? 
 Flora of the raven ringlets, 
 Flora of the shining hair? 
 
 Tell me quick, and no palaver, 
 For I am a man of heat — 
 
 Hast thou seen her, X loo? 
 
 Hast thou view'd her on thv beat ? 
 
 iU — 0-
 
 Hi\—0 0— fij: 
 
 I've Lost mv- 
 
 Mark'd, I say, her fairy figure 
 
 In the wilderness of Bow? 
 Traced her Lilliputian foot-prints 
 On the sands of Rotten Row? 
 
 Out, alas ! thou answ'rest nothing. 
 And my senseless anger dies ; 
 
 Who would look for " speculation " 
 In a boiled potato's eyes ? 
 
 Foggy Peeler I purblind Peeler ! 
 
 Wherefore walk'st thou in a dream ?- 
 Ask a plethoric black beetle 
 
 Why it walks into the cream 1 
 
 Why the jolly gnats find pleasaunce 
 In your drowsy orbs of sight, — 
 
 -<3 — Hs- 
 
 103
 
 Puck on Pegasus. 
 
 Why besotted daddy long-legs 
 Hum into the nearest light, — 
 
 'Tis his creed, '' noii tni ?'ico?'do" 
 
 And he wanders in a fog ; 
 As that other peel, her- 
 
 -Baceous, wanders in your glass of grog ;- 
 
 Ah, my Flora ! (graceless chit !) O 
 
 Pearl of all thy peerless race ! 
 Where shall fancy find one fit, O 
 
 Fit to fill thy vacant place? 
 Who can be the graceful ditt-o 
 
 Ditto to that form and face? 
 
 Hence, then, sentimental twaddle ! 
 Love, thy fetters I will fly — 
 
 104
 
 i^H— 0- 
 
 Fve Lost my 
 
 Friendship is not worth a boddle, 
 T.ost, alas 1 IVe lost — my Skye. 
 
 A rAii,-i'ii;cE. 
 
 -o— H^ 
 
 105
 
 iH — 0- 
 
 ->— kh 
 
 CI;c triti Cntsab^. 
 
 (Preach'd by Pnck ye Poete against Paint and Pommade. ) 
 
 iH — 0- 
 
 DO you wish that your face should 
 
 be fair? 
 That your cheek should be rosy and 
 plump ? 
 Morning noontide and night 
 Take a dip in the bright 
 Wave that flows from the spout of 
 the pump, — 
 
 From a Pump ! — 
 Not a dump 
 
 1 06 
 
 -«— H^J
 
 Hi\-< • ^-B^ 
 
 T/w VIII Crusade 
 
 Do we care for the lily 
 Pick'd in Piccadilly, 
 Or grown by the " Camphorate Lump." 
 
 Do you sigh for ambrosial hair? 
 For clustering ringlets to match ? 
 I jttle goose ! 
 To the deuce 
 AV^ith pommades, learn the use 
 Of the BRUSH, and you'll soon have a thatch 
 That shall catch 
 The moustachio'd amasser 
 Of Rowland's Macassar, 
 At twenty -five shillings a batch. 
 
 Is it ivory teeth you desire ? 
 A set that no dentist e'er trammels? 
 To Rowland's 0-dont-o 
 Cry, "' No, that we uwii't O, 
 It softens the precious enamels !" 
 
 4^H<- 
 
 107
 
 {9—0— • — ffJ; 
 
 Fuck oil Pci:;asus. 
 
 (Not Rachell's, but Schamyl's, 
 Sent packing, confound it, 
 To the Sultan Mahound, — it 
 'S an nature/, perched upon Camels.*) 
 
 Then toy not with powder and paste ! 
 Sweet nymphs, they are deadliest foes ; 
 No PivER persuade you — 
 No Rowland invade you — 
 In peace let each dimple repose 
 Where it grows ! 
 When he shows 
 You his Kalydor Lotion, 
 Reply, " We've a notion 
 
 * No one ever seems to understand what this means : the author will 
 therefore, explain it. Thus : — Schamyl is or was the first cliief of Cir- 
 cassia, and as such had the felicity of supplying the Turkish Sultans with 
 wives, who were sent to Constantinople on camels (or if they weren't it's 
 of no consequence). Well then, these Circassian girls have always been 
 celebrated for their lieautiful teeth — enamel an iinturel, in fact, — you 
 see? 
 
 — 1:$: 
 
 io8 
 
 o
 
 -? — HJ; 
 
 The VIII Crusade. 
 
 " It takes all the skin off one's nose ! " 
 
 (As he goes) 
 Add, " There's nothing can beat yours 
 " For blist'ring the features 
 "But 'Atkinson's Milk ov thk Rose!" 
 
 _P^,\/' .-_ f^ 
 
 109
 
 ^H — 0- 
 
 -o~-Hb 
 
 (Lbt Crossing-Sfajccpci-. 
 
 {.-l/,n-/. 
 
 A little charity for the lave of Heaven. 
 
 ARK ! from St. Martin's — one 
 
 — two — three . . . 
 St Paul's now — five — six — - 
 seven . . . 
 ^5j^ And hark again 
 
 How a deep tone strikes in — 
 beven — eight — nine — ten — 
 eleven : 
 The big bells sweep the heaven, 
 Till the full choir, 
 As from one broad swoll'n brim, swing midnight 
 Into the silent air. 

 
 rtH— f- 
 
 The Crossiiis;-S7veefer. 
 
 And set St. Stephen's quivering, 
 
 And the Great Globe shuddering 
 
 In Leicester Stjuare — 
 
 The great round Globe, spike-girdled,- 
 
 A child was sleeping there. 
 
 A boy, and small and ragged, 
 His muddy broom lay near; 
 How came he houseless, homeless. 
 How came he to be here, 
 With the dew glistening on his cheek ? 
 Or could it be a tear? 
 Why pillowed thus so hardly 
 Lay the once silken head ? — - 
 And a small voice beside me. 
 
 As to the thought unsaid. 
 
 Replied, " He ain't got nothing 
 
 To get himself a bed."
 
 — o—nh 
 
 Puck on Pegasus. 
 
 Slowly from that cold pavement 
 
 We roused the little man, 
 
 And I was loth to wake him 
 
 So low the hour-glass ran ; 
 
 But the iced dawnwind swept the square, 
 
 And shook the night dews from its hair 
 
 And a grey frost began . . . 
 
 No knife straight to the marrow 
 Like that sharp daw^nwind goes,— 
 The greasy mud grew blacker 
 
 The sweltering gutter froze — 
 And yet I paused, for in my mind 
 A dim misgiving rose. 
 
 A certain air of finish 
 
 The whole scene clung aliout , 
 A touch of melodramc, maybe, 
 
 That woke a tourl-i of doubt : 
 
 -o—^P
 
 7fH—<- 
 
 The Crossing-Siveeper. 
 
 At any rate I waited 
 
 For it seemed indicated 
 
 That I should see it out. 
 
 And lo ! the infant tattered, 
 
 But penniless no more, 
 
 Had curled his small self up again 
 
 Under the railings in the rain — 
 
 He almost seemed to snore. 
 
 I crossed . . . t7oo ragged imps lay coiled 
 
 Where one had lain before ! 
 
 Again I watched — ah, pity ! 
 
 Where was the hand to have stayed? — 
 
 In warm clothed, well housed Leicester Square, 
 
 Five little bedless boys there were 
 
 Along the pavement laid ! — 
 
 They evidently fancied 
 
 The " sleeping dodge " had paid. 
 
 ^}+-^cr
 
 ^t 
 
 9 
 
 Puck on Pegasus. 
 
 And yet I hope the very 
 
 Next time that midnight dim 
 Unveils a ragged urchin 
 Crouched on the pavement grim, 
 That something Hke a sixpence 
 Will pass from me to him. 
 
 It's not because imposture 
 May chance to reap our mite, 
 That we should risk refusing 
 Shelter from the pitiless night ; 
 Nor yet because the Poor-law 
 Works Avith a niggard stint, 
 That you and I are called on 
 To make our faces flint. 
 
 Yet well I know that many 
 A pious soul is vext, 
 And thinks 'to give' perdition 
 
 -O" 
 
 114
 
 1 7ie Crossing- Sweeper. 
 
 In this world and the next : 
 
 "Refuse to him that asketh " 
 Is how they read the text. 
 
 But heed not thou, fair England, 
 
 The pomps of other lands, 
 Their palaces and temples 
 
 Built up by hireling hands. 
 Whilst in thy free soil rooted 
 The free-will offering stands. 
 
 The Hospital and Alms-house 
 
 Where age may lay its head, 
 And the sick man may be tended. 
 
 And the starving man be fed, 
 Are better shrines and prouder 
 
 Than trophies blazed with gold ; 
 And nobler worth than gorgeous piles, 
 
 And pillared naves and glittering aisles, 
 Where i)eoples' hearts are cold. 

 
 m — 0- 
 
 -o — H^ 
 
 Puck on Pegasus. 
 
 And of the thousand fame-scrolls 
 Our English scutcheons lift 
 
 I hold the grandest, best of all, 
 That writing, plain on many a wall, 
 
 Prophetic against fear or fall, 
 "Supported by Free Gift." 
 
 -0 — Hj- 
 
 ii6
 
 ^^ 
 
 fH MEDI«VOS. 
 
 F you love to wear 
 
 An unlimited extent of hair 
 
 Push'd frantically back behind a pair 
 Of ears, that all asinine comparison defy — 
 And peripatate by star light 
 To gaze upon some far light 
 Till you've caught an aggravated catarrh right 
 In the pupil of your frenzy rolling eye, — 
 
 -0 — m 
 
 117
 
 Fuck on Ffi^asus. 
 
 Or if you're given to the style 
 Of that mad fellow Tom Carlyle, 
 And fancy all the while, you'i"e taking "an earnest view" of things; 
 Making Rousseau a hero, 
 Mahomet any better than Nero, 
 And Cromwell an angel in ev'rything except the wings : 
 Or if you weep sonnets. 
 Over Time, and on its 
 Everlasting Avorks of " art " and " genius " (cobweb wreath'd ! ) 
 And fly off into rapture 
 At some villanous old picture 
 Not an atom like nature 
 Nor any human creature, that ever breath'd, — 
 Some Amazonian Vixen 
 Of indescribable complexion 
 And hideous all conception to surpass ; 
 And actually prefer this abhorrence 
 
 nS
 
 rEH 0- 
 
 Iii Medicevos. 
 
 To a lovely portrait by Sir Thomas Lawrence 
 Why then, I think that you must be an Ass ! 
 
 
 "9
 
 -o—Hb 
 
 m^t mm oi ^nxtk 
 
 TWAS sunset — (much ill-used hour, 
 Which diff'ring Poets tell you 
 Is ev'ry shade from green to red, 
 And Southey swears it's yellow)- 
 
 And so I lay and smoked the weed — 
 
 Immaculate Havannah ! — 
 And watch'd a spider nobbling flies 
 
 In an artistic manner.
 
 ->— B 
 
 The Well of Truth. 
 
 And mused in speculative vein 
 
 On England, and her story ; 
 Why Palmerston was dubb'd a \\'hig, 
 
 And Derby Avas a Tory ; — 
 
 Why Manchester detested war, 
 And cottons took delight in ; 
 
 Why Cobden's voice was all for peace, 
 And Horsman's all for fighting; — 
 
 Why England sent our Bibles' store, 
 To teach our pig-tail'd brother; 
 
 And gave him Gospel with one hand, 
 And Opium with the other ; — 
 
 And why the Church was always poor. 
 And Lawyers lived in clover, 
 
 And why my tailor made me pa\- 
 
 His last . . account . . . twice .... over 

 
 ifH — 0- 
 
 Puck on PcgasHS. 
 
 And why 
 
 Perhaps it was the scent 
 That hover'd round my bow'r ? 
 Perhaps it was the gnats that haunt 
 That soul-subduing hour ? 
 
 Or else those httle busy bees — 
 Which sting one so severely — 
 
 Made dreamy music round my head. 
 Until I slept — or nearly : — 
 
 But lo ! I floated on a pool, 
 Beneath a monstrous funnel, 
 
 Whose crowning disc shone faintly out, 
 Like sun-light thro' a tunnel ; 
 
 And forms and faces quaint and strange 
 
 Swept by me ev'ry minute ; 
 And ev'ry breast transparent lay. 
 
 And had a window in it. 
 
 -<^+fP
 
 -0 — m 
 
 The Well of Truth. 
 
 Then sudden through my mind it flashed- 
 What mania could have got 'em — 
 
 The place was truth's historic weil, 
 And I — was at the bottom. 
 
 And first I marked a sombre man 
 
 Of aspect wondrous saintly, 
 Whose pious eyes looked shocked and good, 
 
 If Sin but whispered faintly; 
 
 And every Sunday in the plate. 
 
 His clinking gold was given 
 With such an air — the righteous vowed 
 
 His alms had conquered Heaven ! 
 
 And such his godly wrath 'gainst all 
 Who betted, swore, or liquored, — 
 
 Old women said around his head 
 An Ano;el halo flickered. 
 
 -0 — H^
 
 ■ii]-< • — — o-^^ 
 
 Puck on Pegasus. 
 
 But looking through his heart I saw 
 A blank, dark, moral torpor, — 
 
 And while he gave his princely alms 
 He cursed the needy pauper. 
 
 And all men grovelled at his feet 
 
 With coax, anel crawl, and wheedle ; — 
 
 But I thought of Dives' burning tongue 
 And the parabolic needle. 
 
 And next I spied a priestly band, 
 
 In cassock, cope, and mitre, 
 Who diff'ring slightly from the Church, 
 
 Ivcnt all their wits to spite her, — 
 
 With some who thought church-music gave 
 
 'J'he Devil grievous handles ; 
 And some who lit Polemic War 
 
 By lighting altar candles. 
 
 -<^-Ht' 
 
 124
 
 The Well of Truth. 
 
 And one who lield a certain place 
 
 Most probable to get to, 
 Unless he preached in a scarlet cloak 
 
 And prayed in '^ falsetto — 
 
 But one thing I could plainly read, 
 Each pious breast displaying; — 
 
 The rev'rend men took more delight 
 In quarrelling than praying ! 
 
 They passed — and lo ! an Hebrew youth, 
 
 To ebon locks confessing, 
 The sturdy yeomanry of Bucks 
 
 In honeyed phrase addressing. 
 
 And so enthusiastic waxed 
 
 The sleek bucolic charmer; 
 As if his body, soul, and brains, 
 
 Had all been born a farmer.
 
 fU — — Hh] 
 
 Puck on Pegasus. 
 
 And he felt "glad" and "proud," he said, 
 
 To meet his friends again — 
 " His valued friends ! " — and in his heart 
 
 He wished them all in Spain. 
 
 And so he gave their right good heaUh — 
 
 And off it went in toppers ; 
 And called them " Men and Patriots, 
 
 And in his heart " Clodhoppers." — 
 
 And then— with very blandest smiles — 
 From self and boon carousers, 
 
 Gave prizes to some model louts, 
 And one a pair of trousers ! I * 
 
 And as he cried " Take, fine old man, 
 " These best of merit's brandings," — ■ 
 
 * rif/e "Times" of 4 Nov. 1S57, giving an account of the meeting 
 of the Amersham and Chesham Agricultural Association. 
 
 126
 
 nty— 0- 
 
 The Well of Truth. 
 
 He thought, " Was ever such a Calf 
 " On such thin understandings ! " 
 
 Just then rolled by, so bluff and bold, 
 A tar — from truck to kelson — 
 
 And prophesied such vast exploits, 
 Men cried — "Another Nelson!" 
 
 " You'll see," quoth he, " I'll shortly be 
 In Heav'n or Cronstadt reckoned " — 
 
 But never meant to chance the first, 
 Or go too near the second. 
 
 And then I lost him in the crowd, 
 Nor could the question try on ; 
 
 If I'd heard the voice of Balaam's ass 
 Or the roar of Britain's lion ! 
 
 But when I read what bumping thing'- 
 The hero had been saying. 
 
 127
 
 fiA — 
 
 '<^-Hh 
 
 <> 
 
 i^ — 0- 
 
 J^/nVc on Pegasus. 
 
 I thought 1 knew what Gray must mean 
 By the din of battle braying. — 
 
 
 HEARD YE THE DIN OP^ JiATTI.K KRAY ? " 
 
 The '■'' Bard. 
 
 128
 
 To face p. 136.
 
 — 0- 
 
 frrils of fljc gxm %xtB, 
 
 OOD gracious Julia ! wretched girl, 
 
 What horror do I see? 
 What frantic fiend has done the 
 deed 
 That rends your charms from 
 me? 
 
 Those matchless charms which like 
 the sun 
 Lit up Belinda Place — 
 What fiend, I ask, in human mask 
 Has DARRD to black your face? 
 
 129 
 
 ■0 — H^. 
 
 -0 — BJ:
 
 i}J — — O— H': 
 
 Puck on Pegasus. 
 
 Your lips that once out-bloom'd the rose 
 
 Are both of ebon hue ; 
 Your chin is brown — your cheeks are green- 
 
 Your nose is prussian blue ! 
 This morn the very driven snow 
 
 Was not so stainless pure, — 
 And now, alack ! you're more a black, 
 
 Than any black-a-more. 
 
 Some wretch has painted you ! Oh, Jove, 
 That I could clutch his throat ! — 
 
 That I could give his face a cuff, 
 Who gave your face a coat : 
 
 If there is justice in the land- 
 But no — the law is bosh : 
 
 Although it's true you're black and blue 
 That remedy "won't wash." 
 
 Revenge, I say ! yet hold, no rage — 
 I will be calm, sweet wife— 
 
 -0 — ft}
 
 rttl— 0- 
 
 -0 — Hi-. 
 
 Perils of the Fine Arts. 
 
 Calm — icy calm Speak, woman, speak 
 
 That I may have his life ! ! 
 Who did the deed? — 
 
 " Oh ! Charles, 'twas you ! 
 
 " Nay, dearest, do not shrink — 
 " This face and chin ! — I've washed it in 
 
 " Your Photographic Ink ! " 
 
 '%'4^^' 
 
 A I'llRTKAir (AFTKR lil.ACK-AI.lV 
 
 131 
 
 -0 RJ
 
 gcjutelr libtircsscs." 
 
 IR Toby was a portly party 3 
 Sir Toby took his turtle 
 hearty ; 
 Sir Toby lived to dine : 
 Chateau 7nargot was his fort ; 
 Bacchus would have backt his 
 port; 
 He was an Alderman in short 
 
 Of the very first water — and wine. 
 
 H — 0- 
 
 -O— +5 3|J
 
 -c — H^ 
 
 Rejected Addresses. 
 
 An Alderman of the first degree, 
 But neither wife nor son had he : 
 
 He had a daughter fair, — 
 And often said her father, " Cis, 
 "You shall be dubbed 'my Lady,' Miss, 
 
 " When I ani dubbed Lord Mayor. 
 
 "The day I don the gown and chain, 
 " In Hymen's modern Fetter-Lane 
 
 " You wed Sir Gobble Grist ; 
 "And whilst with pomp and pageant high 
 "I scrape, and strut, and star it by 
 " St. George's in the East, you'll try 
 
 "St. George's in the West." 
 
 Oh vision of paternal pride ! 
 
 Oh blessed Groom to such a Bride ! 
 
 Oh happy Lady Cis ! 
 Yet sparks won't always strike the match,
 
 fH — 0- 
 
 Puck oil Pegasus. 
 
 And miss may chance to lose her "catch," 
 Or he may catch — a 7/iiss ! 
 
 Such things do happen, here and there. 
 When knights are old, and nymphs are fair, 
 
 And who can say they don't? 
 When Worldly takes the gilded pill. 
 And Dives stands and says "I will," 
 
 And Beauty says " I won't ! " 
 
 Sweet Beauty ! Sweeter thus by far — 
 Young Goddess of the silver star, 
 
 Divinity capricious ! — 
 Who would not barter wealth and wig. 
 And pomp and pride and ofium dig, 
 For Youth — when " plums " weren't worth a fig 
 
 And Venus smiled propitious? 
 
 Alas ! that beaus will lose their spring, 
 And wayward belles refuse to 'ring,' 
 
 134
 
 Rejected Addresses. 
 
 Unstruck by Cupid's dart ! 
 Alas that — must the truth be told — 
 Yet oft'ner has the archer sold 
 The 'white and red,' to touch the 'gold,' 
 
 And Diamonds trumped the Heart ! 
 
 That luckless heart ! too soon misplaced !- 
 Why is it that parental taste 
 On sagest calculation based 
 
 So rarely pleases Miss? 
 Let those who can the riddle read ; 
 For me, I've no idea indeed, 
 
 No more, perhaps, had Cis. 
 
 It might have been she found Sir G. 
 Less tender than a swain should be, — 
 
 Young — sprightly — witty — gay ? — 
 It might have been she thought his hat 
 Or head too round or square or flat 
 
 Or empty — who can say? 
 
 135
 
 ii] — »— #^ 
 
 Puck on Pegasus. 
 
 What Bard shall dare? Perhaps his nose? — 
 A shade too pink, or pale, or rose? — 
 His cut of beard, wig, whisker, hose ? — 
 
 A wrinkle? — here — or there? — 
 Perhaps the J>reux chevalier'' s chance, 
 Hung on a word or on a glance, 
 
 Or on a single hair. 
 
 I know not ! But the Parson waited, 
 
 The Bridegroom swore, the Groomsmen rated. 
 
 Till two o'clock or near; — 
 Then home again in rage and wrath. 
 Whilst pretty Cis was rattling North 
 
 With Jones the Volunteer ! 
 
 136
 
 -3 Hi- 
 
 .t I r c ! 
 
 WAY there, to the east — 
 
 " Towards the Surrey ridge, — 
 "I see a puft' of dunnish smoke 
 " Over the Southwark Bridge : " 
 A single curl of murky mist 
 
 That scales the summer air : — 
 And the watchman wound his list- 
 less way 
 Slow down the turret stair. 
 
 London ! that deck'st thyself with wave-won spoils, 
 Sea-gathered wealth, spires, palaces, 
 And temples high, 
 
 137
 
 iir\—0- 
 
 ? 
 
 -0- 
 
 jP/u'^ oh Fegasiis. 
 
 Well might thy goodly burgesses exclaim, 
 
 " Behold— and die ! * 
 " Behold these streets ; survey these monster marts, 
 
 " The lordly 'Changes of our merchant kings ; 
 
 " Consider this great Thames, with its broad breast 
 
 " Brave with white wings. 
 
 "Wharves, stately with warehouses, 
 
 *' Docks, with a world's treasure-chest in bail, 
 
 " What hand shall touch ye ? 
 
 " What rash foe assail ? " . . . 
 
 '■'■ Fire ! to the eastward — Fire!! " 
 
 A hurrying tramp of feet 
 A sickly haze that wraps the town 
 
 Like a leaden winding-sheet : 
 A smothering smoke is in the air — 
 
 A crackling sound — a cry ! — 
 And yonder, up over the furnace pot, 
 
 * " See Naples, and die." — T/a/ian Proi'erb. 
 
 I -.8
 
 -0 — hi- 
 
 # 
 
 That smokes like the smoke of the cities of Lot, 
 
 There's something fierce and hissing and hot 
 
 That Hcks the very sky. 
 
 Fire ! fire ! ghastly fire ! 
 
 It broadens overhead ; 
 
 Red gleam the roofs in lurid light 
 
 The heav'ns are glowing red. 
 
 From east to west — from west to east ! 
 
 Red runs the turbid Thames — 
 
 " Fire ! fire ! the engines ! fire ! 
 
 " Or half the town's in flames — 
 " Fire " 
 
 A raging, quivering gulf, 
 A wild stream, blazing by . . . 
 Red ruin . . . fearful flaming leaps . . . 
 White faces to the sky .... 
 
 139
 
 xa_^_ -o--B^ 
 
 Puck on Pegasus. 
 
 "The engines, Ho — back for your lives!" 
 
 The swarthy helmets gleam : 
 Flash fast, broad wheel, 
 Hold, wood and steel. 
 Whilst the shout rings up. and the wild bells peal, 
 And the flying hoofs strike flame. 
 Stand from the causeway, horse and man. 
 Back while there's time for aid, — 
 Back, gilded coach — back, lordly steed — 
 A thousand hearts hang on their speed, 
 And life and death and daring deed 
 
 Room for the Fire Brigade ! 
 
 ^v
 
 rfH — 0- 
 
 ^^ 
 
 MwB, ^-bcr Ma%. 
 
 us ! ever wus ! By freak of Puck's 
 My most exciting hopes are dashed ; 
 
 I never wore my spotless ducks 
 
 But madly — wildly ! — they were 
 splashed. 
 
 I never roved by Cynthia's beam, 
 To gaze upon the starry sky ; 
 
 But some old stift-backed beetle came, 
 And chorge;! into my pensive eye : 
 
 And oh ! I never did the swell 
 
 In Regent-street, amongst the beaus. 
 But smuts the most prodigious fell, 
 
 141
 
 ii] — 
 
 -<^-±ih 
 
 Puck 071 Pegasus. 
 And always settled on my Nose ! 
 
 142
 
 Cbargc of fijc 'Sl^hi (|rlsb) ^rigai^c. 
 
 (A^o^ by A—f—d T—y-n.) 
 
 OUTHWARD Ho— Here we go !- 
 
 O'er the wave onward, 
 Out from the Harbour of Cork 
 Sailed the Six Hundred ! 
 Sailed like Crusaders thence, 
 Burning for Peter's pence, — 
 Burning for fight and fame — 
 Burning to show their zeal — 
 Into the gates of Rome, 
 Into the jaws of Hell, 
 (It's all the same) 
 Marched the Six Hundred ! 
 
 H3
 
 -^^-fih 
 
 i 
 
 Fuck on l\i^asus. 
 
 " Barracks, and tables laid ! 
 Food for the Pope's Brigade I " 
 
 But ev'ry Celt afraid, 
 Gazed on the grub dismay'd — 
 
 Twigged he had blundered ; — 
 
 " Who can eat rancid grease ? 
 Call this a room a-piece ? " * — 
 
 " Silence unseemly din, 
 Prick them with bayonets in." — 
 Blessed Six Hundred ! 
 
 Waves ev'ry battle-blade. — 
 
 " Forward ! the Pope's Brigade ! "— 
 
 \\'as there a man obeyed ? 
 No — where they stood they stayed, 
 
 * A room for each man, and a table furnished from the fat of the 
 land, were among the inducements reported to have been held out 
 to the " Pope's own." 
 
 o 
 
 Cf 1^— <> — — ""^^^ *.^ 
 
 M4
 
 ,^H— <- 
 
 ->— H* 
 
 -iH — 0- 
 
 CAart^c of the Light {Irish) Brigade. 
 
 Though Lamoriciere pray'd, 
 Threatened, and thundered — 
 
 " Charge ! " Down their sabres then 
 Clashed, as they turn'd — and ran — 
 Sab'ring the empty air, 
 Each of one taking care, — 
 Here, there, and ev'rywhere 
 Scattered and sundered. 
 
 Sick of the powder smell, 
 
 Down on their knees they fell ; 
 Howling for hearth and home — 
 Cursing the Pope of Rome — 
 
 Whilst afar shot and shell 
 Volleyed and thunder'd ; 
 Captured, alive and well, 
 Ev'ry Hibernian swell. 
 Came back the tale to tell ; 
 
 Back from the states of Rome — 
 
 '43
 
 -o—Hh 
 
 Puck oji Pegasus, 
 
 Back from the gates of Hell- 
 Safe and sound ev'ry man- 
 Jack of Six Hundred ! 
 
 When shall their story fade ? 
 
 Oh the mistake they made ! 
 Nobody wondered, 
 
 Pity the fools they made — 
 
 Pity the Pope's Brigade— 
 NOBBLED Six Plundred ! 
 
 140 >
 
 rfH— 0- 
 
 Coo bat), nou hnotu. 
 
 T was the huge metropoHs 
 
 With fog was like to choke ; 
 It was the gentle cabby- 
 horse 
 His ancient knees that 
 broke ; — 
 
 And, oh, it was the cabby man 
 That swore with all his might, 
 
 And did request he might be blowed 
 Particularly tight, 
 
 147
 
 Puck on Pegasus. 
 
 If any swell should make him stir 
 Another step that night ! 
 
 Then up and spake that bold cabman, 
 
 Unto his inside Fare, — 
 " I say, you Sir, — come out of that ! — 
 
 " I say, you Sir, in there — 
 
 " Six precious aggrawatin miles 
 " I've druv to this here gate, 
 
 " And that poor injered haninial 
 " Is in a fainting state ; 
 
 " There aint a thimbleful! of light, 
 " The fog's as black as pitch, — 
 
 " I'm flummoxed 'tween them posteses 
 " And that most \xteful ditch. 
 
 " So bundle out ! my 'oss is beat ; 
 '• Tm sick of this 'ere job : — 
 
 14S 
 
 *J
 
 :fH — 0- 
 
 Too bad, xoii kiiii'io. 
 
 "I say, you Sir in there, — tl'you HEARt 
 * * * * 
 
 ""Hes bolted — strike me bob ! " 
 
 U'
 
 w — o- 
 
 -c^-Hh 
 
 (')bo5trif5. 
 
 ID you never hear a rustling, 
 
 In the corner of your room ; 
 When the faint fantastic fire-light 
 
 Served but to reveal the gloom ? 
 Did you never feel the clammy 
 Terror, starting from each pore. 
 At a shocking 
 Sort of knocking 
 On your chamber door ? 
 
 Did you never fancy something 
 Horrid, underneath the bed ? 
 
 Or a ghastly skeletonian, 
 In the garret overhead ? 
 
 <H — 0-
 
 1 o /act- p. 151
 
 Ghostries. 
 
 Or a sudden life-like movement, 
 Of the 'Vandyke,' grim and tall? 
 Or that ruddy 
 Mark, a bloody 
 Stain upon the wall ? 
 
 Did you never see a fearful 
 
 Figure, by the rushlight low, 
 Crouching, creeping, crawling nearer- 
 Putting out its fingers — SO / 
 Whilst its lurid eyes glared on you 
 From the darkness where it sat — 
 And you could not. 
 Or you would not, 
 See it was the cat ? 
 
 ^^ 
 
 151
 
 ft 
 
 fH — 
 
 o— Hh 
 
 ^j^Iaterloo \}{im. 
 
 WU W— Wuw— Wuw— Wuw— W mv—\Ymv - 
 
 W — Waterloo Place ? yes you 
 !_ T— take the iirst tut— tut— tut — turning 
 that faces you, — 
 -left,— and then kuk — kuk — kuk, — kuk — 
 kuk— kuk— keep up Pall Mall 'till you 
 the Wuw — Wuw Wuw Wuw 
 
 Zounds, Sir, you'll get there before I 
 can tell it you ! 
 
 TllF. I.A.ST rlI.\R(;K OK W.M'I'KKio (I'lArF,). 
 
 0— HP 
 
 152
 
 -0 Hy 
 
 ^fej^ Slussam of (Bhnho, 
 
 HROUGH deep Glenho the owlet 
 flits 
 
 That valley weird and lone ; 
 The chieftain's aged widow sits 
 
 Beside the bare hearth-stone. 
 
 Beside the bare and blighted 
 hearth 
 Whose fires, now quenched and 
 black, 
 Had seen five gallant sons go forth, 
 And never one come back. 
 
 15:
 
 iiA — 0- 
 
 ihh-<- 
 
 Puck on Pegasus. 
 
 'Tis silent all ! but hark — a cry 
 
 And ghastly clamours wake 
 The midnight glen. Then rose proudly 
 
 That ancient dame, and spake — 
 
 " What mingled sounds of woe and wail 
 " Up Mortham's valley spread ? 
 
 " What shrieks upon the gusty gale 
 " Come pealing overhead ? 
 
 " I hear the pibroch's piercing swell, 
 " The banshee's scream I hear, 
 
 " And hark ! again that stifled yell — 
 " The hoderglas is near ! ! 
 
 " The Boderglas with bloody brow 
 "And tresses dripping red — 
 
 "I see him at the window now 
 " He shakes his gory head ! 
 
 •54
 
 -0 — H»; 
 
 T/ie Massacre of Glenho. 
 
 "Then, daughter, to thy mother's arms, 
 " Thus, thus, in close embrace, 
 
 " The messenger of death we'll meet — 
 " The slayer of our race. 
 
 " Then do not weep, my daughter ! " — 
 " Oh mother, 'tis not that — 
 
 " But Donald Roy the carrotty boy 
 " Has killed our Old Tom Cat ! " 
 
 
 .-^'i^/-*^ 
 
 -0 Hi 
 
 155
 
 (Dbc to pinnpsteaiT. 
 
 H Hampstead ! cool oasis — 
 No longer ' green,' alas ! — 
 
 Where once a week, on Sunday, 
 The Cockneys go to grass ; 
 
 >V 
 
 Where Donkey-boys still flourish, 
 Unawed hy Martin's Act, 
 
 -0— kjJ 
 
 •5('
 
 Ode to Hampsiead. 
 
 The lash that drives a squadron 
 Promiscuously whackt \ — 
 
 Upon whose hills the dust-wreath 
 Comes down like the simoom, 
 
 Beneath whose slopes the 'winkle 
 Has a perennial bloom, — 
 
 And whose once stainless waters 
 
 Present the sort of look 
 The sea did when the savages 
 
 Plunged in at Captain Cook ; — 
 
 I love thee yet ! — Tho' tarnish'd 
 
 Is ev'ry blade and leaf, 
 Tho' Highgate Fields are bitterness, 
 
 And Belsize Park is grief, — 
 
 Tho' brick-kilns are unlovely, 
 And railways banish rest, 
 
 157 
 
 -0 — \K\
 
 fih-0- 
 
 Puck on Pegasus. 
 
 And Omnibi are hateful 
 And Hansom Cabs unblest, — 
 
 » 
 
 Whilst donkeys take the place of cows, 
 
 And geese are abdicating, 
 Whilst boys usurp the haunts of fish 
 
 And ice-carts spoil the skating ; — 
 
 1 love thee still ! — Thy benches, 
 (When no East wind assails) 
 
 Thy turf, sweet to recline upon — 
 (When unengross'd by snails.) 
 
 And never may thy blooming heath 
 
 By Wilson be enclosed ; 
 Still on thy lawn let fairy feet 
 
 Disport them unopposed ; 
 
 I love thee, O I love thee still ! — 
 Yet must I fain confess 
 
 158 
 
 o 
 
 -0 — \^\
 
 ijH — 0- 
 
 Ode to Hampstead. 
 
 That ev'ry time I gaze above 
 Thy spreading chimney-pots, my love 
 Grows "beautifully less!" 
 
 ^ 
 
 /^.^^ 
 
 
 ^ 
 
 37 
 
 159 
 
 -0 — \^\
 
 tH — *- 
 
 -0 — Hi-. 
 
 0in ^rabcller. 
 
 F thou wouldst stand on Etna's 
 
 burning brow, 
 With smoke above, and roaring 
 flame below; 
 1^^' c _^yy And gaze adown that molten 
 ^' -^^ '' gulf reveal'd, 
 
 ■^, Till thy soul shudder'd and thy 
 senses reel'd. — 
 
 If thou wouldst beard Niagara in his pride, 
 
 Or stem the billows of Propontic tide ; 
 Scale all alone some dizzy Alpine /lauf, 
 And shriek " Excelsior ! " amidst the snow. — 
 
 Wouldst tempt all deaths, all dangers that may be, — 
 Perils by land, and perils on the sea, — 
 
 This vast round world, I say, if thou wouldst view it, — 
 
 i^H — 0- 
 
 i6o
 
 //THEN WHY THE DICKENS ^ 
 DOINTLYOU CO AND DO IT ? 
 
 To face />. i6o.
 
 <H — 0- 
 
 CMiusc ^u^jtles. 
 
 THE WEDDING GIFT. 
 
 .^^ROM many a dark delicious ripple 
 ,'.The Moonbeams drank ethereal tipple; 
 Whilst over Eastern grove and dell 
 The perfumed breeze of evening fell, 
 And the young Bulbul warbling gave 
 Her music to the answering wave. 
 
 But not alone the Bulbul's note 
 Bade Echo strike her silver lute, 
 Nor fell the music of her dream 
 Alone on waving wood and stream ; 
 
 i()i
 
 ii\-< — — ^—By 
 
 Puck on Perns us. 
 
 For thro' the twilight blossoms stray'd, 
 Enamour'd youth, and faery maid ; 
 And mingled with her warblings lone 
 A voice of sweet and playful tone. 
 
 " Nay, tell me not of love that lights 
 
 " The diamond's midnight mine ; 
 " The cold sea-gleaming of the pearl 
 
 "Is only half divine. 
 "No thought have I for gold or gem, 
 
 " No 'hest of high emprize ; 
 " No giant Tartars to be slain, 
 
 " In homage to my eyes." 
 
 " Oh, take my life ! " her lover cried, 
 " Nor break my dream of bliss ; 
 
 " Take house, or head, or lands, or fame- 
 " Take ev'ry thing but this, — 
 
 "To gaze upon those silken braids 
 
 162
 
 -0 — H^. 
 
 The Wedding Gift. 
 
 " Unenvious be my part ; 
 " I could not steal one golden tress, 
 "To bind it round my heart. 
 
 The lady laughed a careless laugh, — 
 "While downward flows the river, 
 
 "The lover who bids for Zadie's heart 
 
 "And hand must make up his mind to part 
 
 "With THE Gift, or part for ever!" 
 
 " Excruciating girl ! why pierce 
 
 "A heart that beats for thee? 
 " How can you want a Lock for which 
 
 "You still must want a Key? 
 
 "Just think, if I should wear a wig, 
 " How would you like me, Zatlie ? 
 
 "I'm sure you'll give it up, my pig, 
 " Do — there's a gentle lady ! "
 
 {H 0- 
 
 -0 — m 
 
 Puck on Pegasus. 
 
 The Maiden laugh'd a silv'ty laugh ; — 
 " The white stars set and shiver ; 
 
 *'The lover who bids for Zadie's heart 
 
 'Mnd hand must make up his mind to part 
 
 *' With THE Gift — or part for ever!" 
 
 iH- — 0- 
 
 164
 
 iiri 0- 
 
 ->-a 
 
 ETCETERA. 
 
 HE stars were out on the lake 
 
 The silk sail stirr'd the skift"; 
 
 And faint on the billow, and 
 
 fresh on the breeze, 
 The summer came up thro' the 
 cinnamon trees 
 With an odoriferous sniff. 
 There was song in the 
 scented air, 
 And a light in the listening leaves, — 
 The light of the myriad myrtle fly, 
 When young FoTumi and little Fe-Fi 
 Came forth to gaze upon the sky — &c ! 
 
 165 
 
 ■>-i^y
 
 iii — 0= — ' -9 — ffJ; 
 
 P/.'cl' on Pegasus. 
 
 Oh ! little Fe-Fi was foir, 
 With the wreath iu her raven hair ! 
 With white of lily and crimson of rose, 
 From her almond eyes, and celestial nose, 
 To the tips of her imperceptible toes &c. 
 
 Fo-Fum stood tall, I wis, 
 
 (May his shadow never be less !) 
 A highly irresistible male, 
 
 The ladies tmml pale 
 
 At the length of his nail 
 And the twirl of his unapproachable tail &c. 
 
 " Now listen, ISIoon-mine, ray Star ! 
 
 My Life! my little Fe-Fi, 
 For over the blossom and under the bough 
 
 There's a soft little word that is whispering now 
 Which I think you can guess if you try ! 
 In the bosom of faithful Fum, 
 There's an anti celebic hum, — 
 
 #-H> — 0— t^ 
 
 1 66
 
 FJccfcra. 
 
 A little wee word Fe-Fi can spell, 
 
 Concluding with ' E,' and l)eginning with ' L,' &c. 
 
 " Oh ! dear, now what can it be ? 
 That little wee word Fo-Fum ? 
 That funny wee word that sounds so absurd 
 With an 'f' and an '/' and a '/////;//' 
 A something that ends with an E? — 
 It must be my cousin, So Sle ? 
 Or pretty Zuzzoo 
 
 Who admired your queue ? 
 
 I shall never guess what it can be 
 I can see 
 That is spelt with an L and an E!" 
 
 " Then listen, Moon-mine, my Life, 
 
 My innocent little Fe-Fi ; 
 It isn't So-Sle, tho' she ends with an E, 
 And pretty Zu/.zoo 
 Who approved of my (jueue. 
 Has no J, in her name that I see ; — 
 
 167 
 
 -0 — \k'\
 
 -« — HJ: 
 
 Puck on Pegasus. 
 
 "■ In the bosom of faithful Fum, 
 
 It's a monosyllabic hum ; 
 A sweet little word for sweet lips to try, 
 That's half-and-half moonlight, and earth-light and sky. 
 If little Fe-Fi 
 Will open her mouth with the least little sigh, 
 She must speak it — unless she was dumb ! " 
 
 " Indeed ! then perhaps she is dumb : 
 I vow I detest you Fo-Fum ! 
 Why don't you . . . how dcrre you, I mean, sir, ah me ! 
 I shall never guess what it can be 
 
 I can see 
 That is spelt with a L and an F ! 
 I never shall guess, if I die — 
 Fo-Fum, sir, I'm going to cry ! — 
 Oh dear, how my heart is beginning to beat ! . . . 
 Why there's silly Fo-Fum on his kn-ees at my feet," &c. 
 
 <H — *- 
 
 1 68
 
 rty— 0- 
 
 Etcetera. 
 
 Deponent knoweth not, 
 
 History showeth not, 
 If the lady read the riddle ; 
 
 And whether she found 
 
 It hard to expound — 
 As the story ends in the middle. 
 
 Was gallant Fo-Funi 
 
 Constrain'd to succumb 
 To the " thrall of delicious fetters " ? — 
 
 Or pretty Fe-Fi 
 
 Induced to supply 
 The text of the missing letters ? 
 
 Oh, no one can tell ! 
 
 But this extract looks well, 
 Faute de mieiix (that's ''for want of a betterer")- 
 
 " Received : by Hang-Hi, 
 
 " From Fo Fum, for Fe-Fi, 
 " A thousand dollars " &c ! 
 
 169 
 
 -0 — vii
 
 I DREAMT it ! 
 
 such a funny 
 
 thing 
 
 Vnd now it's 
 
 taken 
 
 I s'pose no man 
 
 before or 
 
 since 
 
 Dreamt such a 
 
 funny 
 
 iH — 0- 
 
 170
 
 7-A,r/. 171
 
 -0 — p* 
 
 What the Prince of I Dreamt. 
 
 It had a Dragon ] with a tail ; 
 
 A tail both long and slim, 
 And ev'ry day he wagged at it — 
 
 How good it was of him ! 
 
 And so to him the tallest 
 Of all three-tailed Bashaws, 
 
 Suggested that for reasons 
 The waggling should pause : 
 
 And held his tail— whicli, parting, 
 
 Reversed that Bashaw, which 
 
 Reversed that Dragon, who reversed 
 
 Himself into a ditch. 
 * * * * 
 
 It had a monkey — in a trap — 
 
 Suspended by the tail : 
 Oh ! but that monkey look'd distress'd, 
 
 And his countenance was pale. 
 
 And he had danced and dangled there ; 
 Till he grew very mad : 
 
 -<^—^\ 
 
 1 71
 
 ->-Bb 
 
 Fuck oil Pegasus. 
 
 For his tail it was a handsome tail 
 And the trap had pinch'd it — bad. 
 
 The trapper sat below, and grinn'd ; 
 
 His victim's wrath wax'd hot : — 
 He bit his tail in two — and fell — 
 
 And kill'd him on the spot : — 
 
 It had a pig — a stately pig ; 
 
 With curly tail and quaint : 
 And the Great Mogul had hold of that 
 
 Till he was like to faint. 
 
 So twenty thousand Chinamen ; 
 
 With three tails each at least : 
 Came up to help the Great Mogul 
 
 And took him round the waist. 
 
 And so, the tail slipp'd through his hands 
 And so it came to pass : 
 
 ^ — '^ ~~ ^ *~^'? 
 
 172
 
 To face p, 173.
 
 m — 0- 
 
 What the Prince of I Dreamt. 
 
 That twenty thousand Chinamen 
 Sat down upon the grass : — 
 
 It had a Khan — a Tartar Khan — 
 
 With tail superb, I wis : 
 And that fell graceful down a back 
 
 Which was considered his. 
 
 And so, all sorts of boys that were 
 
 Accursed, swung by it : 
 Till he grew savage in his mind 
 
 And vex'd, above a bit — 
 
 And so, he swept his tail, as one 
 Awak'ning from a dream : 
 
 And those abominable ones 
 Flew off into the stream —
 
 iiA — 0- 
 
 -0 — Hj 
 
 Fuc/c OH Pegasus. 
 
 And so, they bobbled up and down, 
 
 Like many apples there : 
 Till they subsided — and became 
 
 Amongst the things that were : — 
 
 And so it had a moral too ; 
 
 That would be bad to lose : 
 " Whoever takes a tail in hand 
 
 Should mind his p's and queues." 
 
 I dreamt it ! — such a funny thing ! 
 
 And now it's taken wing; 
 I s'pose no man before or since 
 
 Dreamt such a funny thing? 
 
 [A " tail piece " was designed by Mr. Doyle after a drawing by the 
 same artist in the possession of Frederick Locker, Esq.] 
 
 *H — 
 
 '74
 
 rEH-— C>- 
 
 % Case ill Ifwnnct). 
 
 AS any one read the great lunacy 
 
 CASE ? 
 
 The case that's lock'd, and labell'd, 
 and laced 
 , £/ '-^ With a tissue of lies, and a docket 
 of ' waste/ 
 And a golden key, the reverse 
 of chased, 
 Y^^, (Tho' hunted thro' the Hilary) — 
 
 Has any one read how the Law can hound, 
 
 And badger, and bully a man, 'till it's bound 
 A mortgage on ev'ry acre of ground. 
 
 -0 — H*: 
 
 i .m 0- 
 
 -0 — Hy
 
 iiA — 0— — PjA 
 
 P/u'k on Fcgasiis. 
 
 And robb'd him of sixty thousand pound— 
 Without being put in the pillory? 
 
 Has any one read — does any one know— 
 
 If he marries a wife who 's not quite coinme il faut. 
 
 And a handsome estate should inherit, — 
 What a SUIT of chancery can effect, 
 
 To strip him, even of self-respect. 
 Hold him up to scorn contempt and neglect, 
 
 And ruin him, body and spirit? 
 
 Has any one read — mark'd — weigh'd — the worth 
 Of a common name and a kindred birth, 
 A brother's — uncle's — love upon earth, 
 To the love that is filthy lucre's? 
 How day after day, without being hurt, 
 A man can drag his own flesh thro' the dirt 
 For a thousand pounds at his broker's ? 
 
 Yes, ev'ry one's read — we all of us know — 
 
 What man's ' first friend ' could become his worst foe, 
 
 170
 
 n«i+— «- 
 
 A Cas-i ill Lunacy. 
 
 Bring him up in the way he ought )iot to go, — 
 Then lie, to make him a beggar ; — 
 Turn him loose upon Town without guardian or friend, — 
 Lay traps in his paths lest they happened to mend, — 
 Set spies to note ev'ry shilling he'd spend — 
 Ev'ry pitiful pound he might borrow or lend, — 
 And dip his fingers in slime without end — 
 We can guess who cuts such a figure ! 
 
 '^I!m 
 
 t^;)_^ — —-^ --__ ... C^-l^ 
 
 177 AA
 
 '^ Squeal) from lean's ^hnh. 
 
 Mind your P's and Q's. 
 
 [These are the verses which the Honourable Scrawls wrote to his 
 Leonora, when he had perfected his running hand in " Six lessons from 
 the Hying Pen."] 
 
 FIRST VERSE. 
 
 sijeaktomemyLeonora ! 
 
 Si leakacrosstheStormydeep, 
 ^Vherethewhitebaitandthelobster 
 
 Andtheyarmouthbloatersleep — 
 Throughathousandleaguesofwater 
 
 Thatsoftvoiceshallcometome — 
 SqeakofLoveohLeonora! 
 Andbidmesqeaktolhee. 
 
 178
 
 fr 
 
 A squeak from Dean s Yard. 
 
 SECOND VERSE. 
 
 Scarceaweekan d fromhiscou n try 
 
 WillreluctantScrawlshavefled, 
 SquinningofftoPragueorPekin — 
 
 Orbesquinhimselfinstead : 
 0,ifthroughrelentlessRyan 
 
 ColdDean's-Yardmygravemustbe 
 Sqeakstillsqeakofl/OveLeonora, 
 
 AndPUsqeakbacktothee. 
 (Third, and remaining hundred and twenty-five verses, ille- 
 gibl-.) 
 
 m — 
 
 179
 
 -^ 
 
 HE shades of night had fallen {at last I) 
 AVIien from the Eagle Tavern pass'd 
 A youth, who bore, in manual vice, 
 A pot of something monstrous nice — 
 XX— oh lor ! 
 
 His brow was bad : — his young eye scann'd 
 The frothing flagon in his hand, 
 And like a gurgling streamlet sprung 
 The accents to that thirsty tongue, 
 
 XX— oh lor! 
 
 In happy homes he saw them grub 
 On stout, and oysters from a tub, — 
 The dismal gas-lights gleam'd without, 
 And from his lips escaped a shout, 
 
 " XX ! oh lor ! " 
 
 I So
 
 iEH — «"- 
 
 Esexolor ' 
 
 "Young man," the Sage observ'd, "just stay, 
 "And let me dip my beak, I say, 
 "The pewter is deep, and I am dry!" — 
 " Perceiv'st thou verdure in my eye ? 
 
 XX? oh lor! 
 
 " Oh stop," the maiden cried, " and lend 
 " Thy beery burden here, my friend — " 
 Th' unbidden tear regretful rose, 
 r,ut still his thuml) tip sought his nose ; 
 
 "XX?— oh lor! 
 
 " Bewnrc the gutter at thy feet ! 
 " Beware the Dragons of the street ! 
 " Beware lest thirsty Bob you meet ! " 
 This was the ultimate remark ; 
 A voice replied far thro' the dark, 
 
 " XX ! oh lor 
 
 iSi
 
 ifH — 
 
 # 
 
 Puck on Fcgasi/s. 
 
 That night, by watchmen on their round, 
 
 The person in a ditch was found ; 
 
 Still grasping in his manual vice 
 
 That pot — once fill'd with something nice. — 
 
 XX oh lor ! ! !
 
 *M — 
 
 -0 — Hi 
 
 THE THREAD OE LIEE 
 
 -0 — m 
 
 iS.^
 
 fH~<- 
 
 iH C- 
 
 (TJk ^brcub €f Xifc. 
 
 A FRACIMK.NT. 
 
 {.-l/h'f 7— J- //—,/.) 
 
 IP'E ! what depths of mystery 
 
 hide 
 In the oceans of Hate and the 
 
 rivers of Pride, 
 Tliat mingle in 'rril)ulation's 
 tide, 
 To quench the spark 
 ' , Vitality ! 
 
 What chords of l^ovc and " bands "' of Hope, 
 
 1S4 
 
 -0 — H^ 
 
 -O — h^':
 
 The Thread of Life. 
 
 Were " made strong " (without the use of rope) 
 In the Thrend — Inoividuautv. 
 
 Life ! what a web of follies and fears, 
 Pleasures and griefs, sighs, smiles and tears, 
 Are twined in the w'oof that Mortality's shears 
 
 Must be everlastingly thinning,- - 
 What holes for Physician Death to darn, 
 Are eternally spun in the wonderful yarn 
 
 That the Fates are eternally spinning ! 
 
 Life ! what marvellous throbs and throes 
 
 The alchemy of Existence knows ; 
 
 What "weals within wheels" (and woes without woahs !) 
 
 Give sophistry a handle ; 
 Though Hare himself could be dipp'd in the well 
 Where Truth's proverbial waters dwell, 
 It would throw no more light on the vital spell 
 Than a dip in the Polytechnic bell, 
 
 Or the (X\yi — a lia'penny candle. 
 
 1S5
 
 iH — 0- 
 
 Pitck on Pegasus. 
 
 Alas ! for the metaphysical host ; 
 
 The wonderful wit and wisdom they boast, 
 
 When the time arrives they must give up the ghost, 
 
 Become quite phantasmagorical, — - 
 And it's found at the last that they know as much 
 Of the secret of LIFE — as they do of Dutch— 
 Or, if a lame verse may borrow a crutch, 
 
 As was known by the Delphic Oracle. 
 
 Into being we come, in ones and twos, 
 
 To be kiss'd, to be cuft'd, to obey, to abuse, 
 
 Each destined to stand in another's shoes 
 
 To whose heels we may come the nighest ; 
 This turns at once into Luxury's bed. 
 Whilst that in a gutter lays his head. 
 And this — in a house with a Wooden lid 
 
 And a roof that's none of the highest. 
 
 We fall like the drops of April show'rs, 
 Cradled in mud or cradled in flow'rs. 
 
 I St)
 
 Toftic- p. 187.
 
 The Thread of Life. 
 
 Now idly to wile the rosy hours, 
 
 And now for bread to importune ; 
 Petted, and feted, and fed upon pap 
 One prattler comes in for a fortune, slap — • 
 And one, a ' more kicks than ha'pence ' chap, 
 For a slap — without the fortune ! 
 
 Oh, who hasn't heard of the infant squall ? 
 
 Sharper, shriller, and longer than all 
 
 The Nor'-wester squalls, that may chance to befall 
 
 At Cape Horn, as nauticals tell us ; 
 And who, — oh who ? — hasn't heard before 
 The dulcet tones of the infant roar ? 
 Ear-piercing in at the drawing-room door — 
 Down-bellowing, right through the nursery floor — 
 
 Like a hundred power bellows? 
 
 Alas ! that the very rosiest wreath 
 
 Should ever be twined with a thorn beneath ! 
 
 187
 
 -o— Hb 
 
 Puck on Pegastcs. 
 
 Forth peeping, from purple and damask sheath, 
 
 In a manner quite anti-floral ; 
 And startling, as when to that Indian root 
 The traveller stretches his hand for the fruit, 
 And a crested head comes glittering out 
 With a tongue that is somewhat forked no doubt, 
 
 And a tail — that has quite a moral ! 
 And who'd have believed that diminutive thing 
 Just form'd as you'd say, to kiss and to cling, 
 Would ever have opened, except to sing, 
 
 Those lips, that look so choral? 
 
 Behold the soft little struggling ball ! 
 With rosy mouth ever ready to squall, 
 Kicking and crowing and grasping " small," 
 
 At its India-rubber dangle, — 
 Whilst tiny fists in the pillow lurk 
 That are destined perhaps for fighting the Turk, 
 And doing no end of mangling work, 
 
 Or perhaps, for working a mangle ! 
 
 1 88 
 
 -0— HhJ
 
 ii] — 0- 
 
 ^^ 
 
 T/ie Thread of Life. 
 
 'Tis passing strange, that all over the earth 
 
 Men talk of the "stars" that "rule" at their birth, 
 
 For little such dazzling sponsors are worth, 
 
 Whate'er Cagliostro may say ; 
 Though all the Bears in the heav'ns combined — 
 Mars, Mercury, Venus, and Jupiter shined, 
 In our glitt'ring horoscope, we shall find 
 Most men who are born of woman kind 
 
 Are born in the milky-way. 
 
 In the milky-way ! ev'ry mother's son ; 
 
 From the son of a lord, to the "son of a gun," 
 
 Of colours, red, brown and yellow and dun, 
 
 An astonishing constellation ; 
 From the black Papouse of the Cape de Verd, 
 The cream of Tartar, and scum of Kurd, 
 To the son and heir of Napoleon the Third, 
 
 Who sucks— to the joy of a Nation ! 
 And that puny atom may happen to claim 
 
 1S9
 
 \Pi — 0- 
 
 i» — > 
 
 Puck on Pegasus. 
 
 The very first round on the Ladder of Fame, 
 At the general conflagration. 
 
 The squeaky voice may be heard ere long 
 In the shout of the battle, deep and strong. 
 Like the brazen clash of a mighty gong 
 
 That has broken loose from tether ; 
 Whilst many a hardy bosom quails, 
 And many a swarthy visage pales 
 At the griffin clutch of those tender nails 
 
 As they come to the scratch together. 
 
 But well says a poet of rising fame, 
 That to hint at an "infantile frailty's" a shame; 
 For the baby-days have come round the same 
 To us all, and we can't but confess 'em ; 
 When the brawny hands, that can rend an oak, 
 Went both into Mammy's mouth for a joke — 
 
 190
 
 The Thread of Life. 
 
 And the feet that stand like the soHd rock, 
 Were "tootsies pootsies, bless 'em!" 
 
 When to howl was the only accomplishment rife 
 In our " tight little bundle " of wailing and strife, 
 And pap was the swnmum bomim of life, 
 
 To a mouth in perpetual pucker; 
 When Ma was a semi-intelligent lump, 
 Possessed by a mania for making us " plump," 
 And Nus was an inexhaustible pump 
 
 With an everlasting "sucker." 
 
 Yet, laugh if we will at those baby-days, 
 There was more of bliss in its careless plays, 
 Than in after time from the careful ways 
 Or the hollow world, with its empty praise, 
 Its honeyed speeches, and hackneyed phrase, 
 
 And its pleasures, for ever fleeting ; 
 And more of sense in its bald little pate, 
 On its own little matters of Church and State, 
 
 lyl 
 
 -O V\\
 
 # 
 
 'i» — 0- 
 
 Than in many a House of Commons' debate, 
 Or the " sense " of a Manchester meeting ! 
 
 And laugh as we may, it would make us start, 
 Could we read the depths of its mother's heart, - 
 Or imagine one twenty-thousandth part 
 
 Of the feelings that stir within it ; 
 What a freight that little existence bears 
 Of pallid smiles and tremulous tears, 
 Of joys never breathed into mortal ears, 
 Griefs that the callous world never hears, 
 Suff'ring that only the more endears, 
 And love, that would reach into endless years, 
 
 Snuffed out, it may be, in a minute ! 
 
 Would you look on a mother in all her pride? 
 Her radiant, dazzling, glorious pride ? 
 Then seek yon garret — leaden-eyed — 
 
 And thrust the mouldering panel aside — 
 The cloor that has nothing to lock it. — 
 
 192
 
 #■ 
 
 IVie Thread of Life. 
 
 And the walls are tattered, and damp, and drear, 
 And the hght has a (juivering gleam, like fear, 
 For the hand of Sickness is heavy here. 
 
 And the lamp burns low in the socket. 
 
 'Mid rags, and want, and misery, piled, 
 A woman is watching her stricken child, 
 With a love so tender, a look so mild, 
 That the patient little suff'rer has smiled — ■ 
 
 A smile that is strangely fair I — 
 And lo ! in that chamber, poverty-dyed, 
 A mother in all her dazzling pride — 
 
 A glorious mother is there ! 
 
 And the child is squalid, and l)uny, and thin, — 
 But hush — hush your voice as you enter in ! 
 Nor dare to despise, lest a deadly .sin 
 
 On your soul rest unforgiven ; — 
 Perchance, oh scornful and worldly-wise, 
 A Shakespeare dreams in those thouglitful eves- 
 
 193 
 
 -0 — RJ^
 
 iH— 0- 
 
 Piick on Pegasus. 
 
 A Newton looks out at the starry skies- 
 Or a 'prison'd angel in calm surprise 
 Looks back to its Heaven ! 
 
 -^— Hb 
 
 194
 
 m^ 
 
 -C BH 
 
 The Thread of Life. 
 
 PART II. 
 
 Life, life ! a year or two more, 
 
 And the Bark has launch'd from the quiet shore 
 
 To the restless waves that bubble and roar, 
 
 Where the billow never slumbers, — 
 And the storms of Fate have caught in the sail, 
 And the sharks are gathering thick on his trail, 
 Like a New Edition of Jonah's whale — 
 
 That is coming out in Numbers ! 
 
 195
 
 iU 0- 
 
 /^uc^ OH jPcxast/s. 
 
 PART III. 
 
 Tempus, time,^///i7y, flies ! 
 
 And the ship returns witli a gallant prize, 
 
 A fairy Craft of diminutive size, 
 
 Or perhaps with a huge Three-decker ; 
 He has sailed from the matrimonial shore, 
 With a '"breeze" at starting, and " st^ualls " m store, 
 And he's married a blue, or he's wed to a bore. 
 
 Or perhaps — to my Lady Pecker ! 
 
 Li»i:ii>ii: A", t liiy. So;/, aiui 'J\:y'oi l'>\i,tfyi\ 
 
 196
 
 WORKS BY THE SAME AUTHOR. 
 
 CRESCENT? 
 
 And other Lyrics. 5j. 
 
 Piil'lic 0/>inion. — "Several years ago, Mr. Pennell gave amusement and delight to many 
 readers bythepublicationof a volume of poems of a facetious kind, entitled 'Puck on Pegasus.' One 
 or two of the poems in the volume, called ' The Night Mail North,' and 'The Derby Day,' displayed 
 unusual vigour and vivid descriptive power. Whil.st reading 'The Night Mail North' the 
 reader seemed hurried along and amazed by the brightness and swiftness of the verses ; and it 
 was felt that so much dash and skilfulness in rhyme clearly heralded a new poet, who would be 
 likely to become the Laureate of the active wonders of the present age. It was thought, however, 
 by many of Mr. Pennell's friends that he could not write serious poetry ; and we .suppose he has 
 issued the present volume to undeceive them. The pa.ssage we quote below could only emanate 
 from a real poet. . . Scattered here and there are lines of exquisite beauty, musical as rills 
 and eminent with chaste thought. 
 
 " Instances are rare of a poet being able to evoke from his lyre strains grave and gay ; . . but 
 Mr. Pennell has already done these thing.s, and is beginning to make a reputation of which he 
 may justly be proud." 
 
 John Bull. — " Mr. Pennell is a stalwart champion of his age, and in reading his ringing lines 
 we feel that most assuredly there is a charm for the poet even in the most material of modem life. 
 The following stanzas come from a master hand." 
 
 Scoismatt. — " Real and undoubted poetic talent. . . Mr. Pennell always shows himself a 
 master of the art of versification." 
 
 Spectator. — "Like all the author's writing, 'Crescent?' has thought in it and considerable 
 power." 
 
 Reader.— ''Hi?, stanzas on 'Fire!' are especially vigorous, and in the 'Two Champions' 
 he essays with a boldness which success justifies poetry of a highly imaginative description." 
 
 London Revieiu. — "Mr. Pennell writes with ner\e and force. . . the whole legend of 
 'The Fiend in the Family' is charged with a dusky and mysterious horror, and is told wuh great 
 intensity and force." 
 
 /I Mc.'/ff?/;;/.— "Language alike strong and musical. . . Earnestness and fine appreciation 
 of the grander qualities of nature, more especially of himian nature, are on this occasion the chief 
 characteristics of Mr. Pennell's muse. . . The first of his eight poems is a passionate protest 
 against the sickly plaint ever on the lips of idlers, but scouted by all honest workers, that the Age 
 of Poetry is past ; and if there were not other and stronger voices raised against this cry of fretful 
 weakness, the nervous and deep-rolling lines of 'Crescent?' would of themselves be a sufficient 
 answer to the ignoble wail ! "
 
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 THE BOOK OF THE PIKE. 
 
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 illustrated, ^s. 
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 WORKS EDITED BY THE SAME AUTHOR. 
 FISHING GOSSIP: 
 
 Or, Stray Leaves from the Note Books of several Anglers. Illustrated. 6j. 
 Contributed to by — 
 
 The Editor. Mr. H. R. Francis. Mr. Alex. Russel. 
 
 Mr. Frank Buckland. Dr. Gunther. Mr. W. C. Stewart. 
 
 Mr. Jonathan Conch. Mr. W. B. Lord. Mr. T. Todd Stoddart. 
 
 Mr. Greville Ffennell. Dr. Murta. Mr. T. Westwood. 
 
 Mr. W. J. Ffennell. Mr. Pinkerton. Mr. Carruthers. 
 
 Sfiortiag Gazette. — "Containing essays by all the most eminent living authors on fish and 
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 THE FISHERMAN'S MAGAZINE AND REVIEW. 
 
 In two volumes, illustrated, from April 1864, to October 1S65. \os. 6J. a volume. 
 
 THE FAMILY FAIRY TALES. 
 
 Illustrated by M. Ellen Edwards. Second Edition, enlarged, 4J. 
 
 All the foregoing Boo/cs can he ordered at any Library, or obtained from 
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 the small honour of a biography. This Edition contains the whole of 
 the original, hitherto sold for £1 iis. 6d., hut which is now publit>]ted at 
 7s. 6d. only. 
 
 A VERY USEFUL BOOK. lu folio, half morocco, cloth sides, 7s. 6a. 
 Zdterary Scraps, Cuttings from Newspapers, Ex- 
 tracts, Miscellanea, &c. A FOLIO SCRAP-BOOK OF 340 COLUMNS, 
 formed for the reception of Cuttings, &c., with guards. 
 gS" Authors and literary men have thanked the publisher for this 
 useful book. 
 
 •»* A most useful volume, and one of the cheapest ever sold. The buck is sure to be apjirecinted. 
 and to becoukc pui>ular. 
 
 Hone's Scrap Book. A Supplementary Volume to 
 
 the " Every-Day Bo.A," the "Year-Book," and tlie "Table-Book." 
 From the MSS. of the late William IIoxe, with upwards of One 
 Hundred and Fifty engravings of curious or eccentric objects. Tbit-ic 
 8vo, uniform with " Year-Book," pp. 800. \_In ^rreparatiur,. 
 
 John Camden Hciien, 74 and 75, Piccadilly, W,
 
 PR 
 
 5/6?7 
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 Santa Barbara 
 
 THIS BOOK IS DUE ON THE LAST DATE 
 STAMPED BELOW. 
 
 Series 9482
 
 3 1205 02089 0677 
 
 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FAC 
 
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