,UC-NRLF 
 
 *B ISfl 15b 
 
LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSm OF 
 CALIFORNIA 
 
FLY LEAVES 
 
 By C. S. C. 
 
 AUTHOR OF '' VERSES AND TRANSLATIONS.' 
 
 CAMBRIDGE: 
 
 DEIGHTOI^, BELL, AND CO. 
 
 LONDON : BELL AND DALDY. 
 
 1872. 
 
lOAN STACK 
 
 CAMBRIDGE : — PRINTED BY J. PALMER. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 9^3 
 
 Cl67 
 
 MORNING 
 
 EVENING 
 
 SHELTER 
 
 IN THE GLOAMING 
 
 THE PALACE 
 
 PEACE 
 
 THE ARAB 
 
 LINES ON HEARING THE ORGAN 
 
 CHANGED 
 
 FIRST LOVE 
 
 WANDERERS 
 
 SAD MEMORIES ... 
 
 COMPANIONS 
 
 BALLAD 
 
 PRECIOUS STONES 
 
 DISASTER 
 
 CONTENTMENT ... 
 
 THE SCHOOLMASTER 
 
 ARCADES AMBO ... 
 
 WAITING 
 
 PLAY 
 
 Page 
 
 1 
 
 8 
 
 13 
 17 
 19 
 22 
 29 
 32 
 36 
 39 
 42 
 48 
 51 
 56 
 59 
 63 
 66 
 69 
 71 
 
iv CONTENTS. 
 
 
 
 Page 
 
 LOVE 
 
 74 
 
 THOUGHTS AT A RAILWAY STATION 
 
 78 
 
 ON THE BRINK ... 
 
 81 
 
 "FOREVER" 
 
 86 
 
 UNDER THE TREES 
 
 89 
 
 MOTHERHOOD ... 
 
 92 
 
 MYSTERY 
 
 95 
 
 FLIGHT 
 
 99 
 
 ON THE BEACH ... 
 
 104 
 
 LOVERS, AND A REFLECTION 
 
 108 
 
 THE COCK AND THE BULL 
 
 113 
 
MORNmG. 
 
 'rniS the hour when white-horsed Day 
 Chases Night her mares away; 
 When the Gates of Dawn (they say) 
 
 Phoebus opes: 
 And I gather that the Queen 
 May be uniformly seen, 
 Should the weather be serene, 
 
 On the slopes. 
 
 When the ploughman, as he goes 
 Leathern-gaiter ed o*er the snows, 
 From his hat and from his nose 
 Knocks the ice; 
 
 B 
 
MORNING. 
 
 And the panes are frosted o'er, 
 And the lawn is crisp and hoar, 
 As has been observed before 
 Once or twice. 
 
 "When, arrayed in breastplate red, 
 Sings the robin for his bread, 
 On the elmtree that hath shed 
 
 Every leaf; 
 While, within, the frost benumbs 
 The still sleepy schoolboy's thumbs. 
 And in consequence his sums 
 
 Come to grief. 
 
 But when breakfast-time hath come. 
 And he's crunching crust and crumb. 
 He'll no longer look a glum 
 Little dunce; 
 
MOMNING. 
 
 But be brisk as bees that settle 
 On a summer rose's petal : 
 Wherefore, Polly, put the kettle 
 On at once. 
 
EYElSriJSTG. 
 
 TTATE! if e'er thy light foot lingers 
 
 On the lawn, when up the fells 
 Steals the Dark, and fairy fingers 
 
 Close unseen the pimpernels: 
 When, his thighs with sweetness laden, 
 
 From the meadow comes the bee. 
 And the lover and the maiden 
 
 Stand beneath the try sting tree: — 
 
 Lingers on, till stars unnumbered 
 Tremble in the breeze-swept tarn. 
 
 And the bat that all day slumbered 
 Flits about the lonely barn; 
 
EVENING. 
 
 And the shapes that shrink from garish 
 Noon are peopling cairn and lea; 
 
 And thy sire is almost bearish 
 If kept waiting for his tea : — 
 
 And the screech-owl scares the peasant 
 
 As he skirts some churchyard drear; 
 And the goblins whisper pleasant 
 
 Tales in Miss Eossetti's ear; 
 Importuning her in strangest 
 
 Sweetest tones to buy their fruits : — 
 be careful that thou changest, 
 
 On returning home, thy boots. 
 
SHELTER. 
 
 "QY the wide lake's margin I marked her lie— 
 The wide, weird lake where the alders sigh — 
 A young fair thing, with a shy, soft eye; 
 
 And I deemed that her thoughts had flown 
 To her home, and her brethren, and sisters dear, 
 As she lay there watching the dark, deep mere, 
 
 All motionless, all alone. 
 
 Then I heard a noise, as of men and boys. 
 
 And a boisterous troop drew nigh. 
 Whither now will retreat those fairy feet? 
 
SHELTER. 7 
 
 Where hide till the storm pass by? 
 One glance — the wild glance of a hunted thing — 
 She cast behind her; she gave one spring; 
 And there followed a splash and a broadening ring 
 
 On the lake where the alders sigh. 
 
 She had gone from the ken of ungentle men ! 
 
 Yet scarce did I mourn for that; 
 For I knew she was safe in her own home then, 
 And, the danger past, would appear again, 
 
 For she was a water-rat. 
 
IN THE GLOAMING. 
 
 TN the Gloaming to be roaming, where the crested 
 waves are foaming, 
 And the shy mermaidens combing locks that 
 ripple to their feet; 
 Where the Gloaming is, I never made the ghost 
 of an endeavour 
 To discover — but whatever were the hour, it 
 would be sweet. 
 
 "To their feet,'' I say, for Leech's sketch indis- 
 putably teaches 
 That the mermaids of our beaches do not end 
 in ugly tails, 
 
IN THE GLOAMING. 9 
 
 IsTor have homes among the corals; but are shod 
 with neat balmorals, 
 An arrangement no one quarrels with, as many- 
 might with scales. 
 
 Sweet to roam beneath a shady cliff, of course with 
 some young lady, 
 Lalage, Neaera, Haidee, or Elaine, or Mary 
 Ann : 
 Love, you dear delusive dream you! Yery sweet 
 your victims deem you. 
 When, heard only by the seamew, they talk 
 all the stuff one can. 
 
 Sweet to haste, a licensed lover, to Miss Pinkerton 
 the glover, 
 Having managed to discover what is dear Nesera's 
 
10 IN TEE GLOAMING, 
 
 P'raps to touch that wrist so slender, as your tiny 
 gift you tender, 
 And to read you're no offender in those laugh- 
 ing hazel eyes. 
 
 <• 
 Then to hear her call you 'Harry,' when she 
 
 makes you fetch and carry — , 
 young men about to marry, what a blessed 
 
 thing it is! 
 To be^ photographed — together — cased in pretty 
 
 Kussia leather — 
 Hear her gravely doubting whether they have 
 
 spoilt your honest phiz ! 
 
 Then to bring your plighted fair one first a ring 
 — a rich and rare one — 
 IN'ext a bracelet, if she'll wear one, and a heap 
 of things beside; 
 
IN TEE GLOAMING. 11 
 
 And serenely bending o'er her, to enquire if it 
 would bore her 
 To say when her own adorer may aspire to call 
 her bride ! 
 
 Then, the days of courtship over, with your wife 
 to start for Dover 
 Or Dieppe — and live in clover evermore, what- 
 e'er befalls: 
 For I Ve read in many a novel that, unless they've 
 souls that grovfel, 
 Folks prefer in fact a hovel to your dreary 
 marble halls: 
 
 To sit, happy married lovers ; Phillis trifling with 
 a plover's 
 Egg, while Corydon .uncovers with a grace the 
 Sally Lunn^ 
 
12 IN TEH GLOAMING. 
 
 Or dissects the lucky pheasant — that, I think^ were 
 passing pleasant; 
 As I sit alone at present, dreaming darkly of 
 a Dun. 
 
THE PALACE. 
 
 npHEY come, they come, with fife and drum, 
 And gleaming pikes and glancing banners: 
 
 Though the eyes flash, the lips are dumb; 
 To talk in rank would not be manners. 
 
 Onward they stride, as Britons can; 
 
 The ladies following in the Yan. 
 
 Who, who be these that tramp in threes 
 Through sumptuous Picadilly, through 
 
 The roaring Strand, and stand at ease 
 At last 'neath shadowy Waterloo? 
 
 Some gallant Guild, I ween, are they; 
 
 Taking their annual holiday. 
 
14 THE FALACE. 
 
 To catch the destined train — to pay 
 
 Their willing fares, and plunge within it — 
 
 Is, as in old Eomaunt they say, 
 
 With them the work of half-a-minute. 
 
 Then off' they 're whirled, with songs and shouting. 
 
 To cedared Sydenham for their outing. 
 
 I marked them light, with faces bright 
 
 As pansies or a new coined florin. 
 And up the sunless stair take flight, 
 
 Close-packed as rabbits in a warren. 
 Honour the Brave, who in that stress 
 Still trod not upon Beauty's dress! 
 
 Kerchief in hand I saw them stand; 
 
 In every kerchief lurked a lunch ; 
 When they unfurled them, it was grand 
 
 To watch bronzed men and maidens criinch 
 The sounding celery-stick, or ram 
 The knife into the blushing ham. 
 
TEE PALACE. 16 
 
 Dashed the bold fork through pies of pork; 
 
 O'er hard-boiled eggs the saltspoon shook; 
 Leapt from its lair the playful cork: 
 
 Yet some there were, to whom the brook 
 Seemed sweetest beverage, and for meat 
 They chose the red root of the beet. 
 
 Then many a song, some rather long, 
 Came quivering up from girlish throats; 
 
 And one young man he came out strong, 
 And gave '*The Wolf'' without his notes. 
 
 While they who knew not song or ballad 
 
 Still munched, approvingly, their salad. 
 
 But ah I what bard could sing how hard. 
 
 The artless banquet o'er, they ran 
 Down the soft slope with daisies starred 
 
 And kingcups ! onward, maid with man. 
 They flew, to scale the breezy swing. 
 Or court frank kisses in the ring. 
 
16 THE PALACE. 
 
 Such are the sylvan scenes that thrill 
 
 This heart! The lawns, the happy shade, 
 
 Where matrons, whom the sunbeams grill, 
 Stir with slow spoon their lemonade; 
 
 And maidens flirt (no extra charge) 
 
 In comfort at the fountain's marge! 
 
 Others may praise the ''grand displays" 
 
 "WTiere "fiery arch," "cascade," and "comet," 
 
 Set the whole garden in a "blaze"! 
 Par, at such times, may I be from it; 
 
 Though then the public may be "lost 
 
 In wonder" at a trifling cost. 
 
 Fanned by the breeze, to puff at ease 
 
 My faithful pipe is all I crave: 
 And if folks rave about the " trees 
 
 Lit up by fireworks," let them rave. 
 Your monster fetes, I like not these; 
 Though they bring grist to the lessees. 
 
PEACE. 
 A STUDY. 
 
 TJE stood, a worn-out City clerk — 
 Who'd toiled, and seen no holiday, 
 
 For forty years from dawn to dark — ■ 
 Alone beside Caermarthen Bay. 
 
 He felt the salt spray on his lips ; 
 
 Heard children's voices on the sands; 
 tip the sun's path he saw the ships 
 
 Sail on and on to other lands; 
 
 And laughed aloud. Each sight and sound 
 To him was joy too deep for tears; 
 
 He sat him on the beach, and bound 
 A blue bandana round his ears : 
 
 c 
 
18 PEACE. 
 
 And thought how, posted near his door, 
 His own green door on Camden Hill, 
 
 Two bands at least, rbost likely more, 
 Were mingling at their own sweet will 
 
 Yerdi with Yance. And at the thought 
 He laughed again, and softly drew 
 
 That Morning Herald that he'd bought 
 Forth from his breast, and read it through. 
 
THE AEAB. 
 
 rW, on, my brown Arab, away, away! 
 
 Thou hast trotted o'er many a mile today, 
 
 And I trow right meagre hath been thy fare 
 
 Since they roused thee at dawn from thy straw-piled 
 
 lair, 
 To tread with those echoless unshod feet 
 
 Yon weltering flats in the noontide heat, 
 
 Where no palmtree profilers a kindly shade 
 
 And the eye never rests on a cool grass blade; 
 
 And lank is thy flank, and thy frequent cough, 
 
 Oh! it goes to my heart — but away, friend, off! 
 
20 TEE ARAB. 
 
 And yet, ah ! wliat sculptor who saw thee stand, 
 As thou standest now, on thy Native Strand, 
 With the wild wind ruffling thine uncombed hair. 
 And thy nostril upturned to the od'rous air, 
 "Would not woo thee to pause, till his skill might 
 
 trace 
 At leisure the lines of that eager face; 
 The collarless neck and the coal-black paws 
 And the bit grasped tight in the massive jaws; 
 The delicate curve of the legs, that seem 
 Too slight for their burden — and, 0, the gleam 
 Of that eye, so sombre and yet so gay! 
 Still away, my lithe Arab, once more away! 
 
 I^ay, tempt me not, Arab, again to stay; 
 Since I crave neither Echo nor Fun today. 
 For thy hand is not Echoless — there they are. 
 Fun, Glowworm, and Echo, and Evening Star: 
 And thou hintest withal that thou fain would' st shine. 
 
THE ARAB, 21 
 
 As I read them, these bulgy old boots of mine. 
 Eut I shrink from thee, Arab ! Thou eat'st eel-pie, 
 Thou evermore hast at least one black eye; 
 There is brass on thy brow, and thy swarthy hues 
 Are due not to nature but handling shoes; 
 And the bit in thy mouth, I regret to see, 
 Is a bit of tobacco-pipe — Flee, child, flee ! 
 
imES ON" HEAEIN"G THE OEGAI^. 
 
 /^BINDER, who serenely grindest 
 At my door the Hundredth Psalm, 
 
 Till thou ultimately findest 
 
 Pence in thine unwashen palm: 
 
 Grinder, jocund-hearted Grinder, 
 ITear whom Barbary's nimble son, 
 
 Poised with skill upon his hinder 
 Paws, accepts the proffered bun: 
 
 Dearly do I love thy grinding; 
 
 Joy to meet thee on the road 
 Where thou prowlest through the blinding 
 
 Dust with that stupendous load, 
 
LINES ON HEARING THE ORGAN 23 
 
 'Neath the baleful star of Sirius, 
 When the postmen slowlier jog, 
 
 And the ox becomes delirious, 
 And the muzzle decks the dog. 
 
 Tell me by what art thou bindest 
 On thy feet those ancient shoon: 
 
 Tell me, Grinder, if thou grindest 
 Always, always out of tune. 
 
 Tell me if, as thou art buckling 
 On thy straps with eager claws, 
 
 Thou forecastest, inly chuckling, 
 All the rage that thou will cause. 
 
 Tell me if at all thou mindest 
 When folks flee, as if on wings, 
 
 From thee as at ease thou grindest: 
 Tell me fifty thousand things. 
 
24 LINES ON SEARING TEE ORGAN. 
 
 Grinder, gentle-hearted Grinder! 
 
 Kuffians who led evil lives, 
 Soothed by thy sweet strains are kinder 
 
 To their bullocks and their wives : 
 
 Children, when they see thy supple 
 Form approach, are out like shots; 
 
 Half-a-bar sets several couple 
 Waltzing in convenient spots; 
 
 Not with clumsy Jacks or Georges : 
 Unprofaned by grasp of man 
 
 Maidens speed those simple orgies, 
 Eetsey Jane with Betsey Ann. 
 
 As they love thee in St. Giles's 
 
 Thou art loved in Grosvenor Square : 
 
 !N'one of those engaging smiles is 
 Unreciprocated there. 
 
LINES ON HEARING THE ORGAN. 25 
 
 Often, ere thou yet hast hammered 
 Through thy four delicious airs, 
 
 Coins are flung thee by enamoured 
 Housemaids upon area stairs: 
 
 E'en the ambrosial- whiskered flunkey 
 Eyes thy boots and thine unkempt 
 
 Eeard and melancholy monkey 
 More in pity than contempt. 
 
 Far from England, in the sunny 
 South, where Anio leaps in foam. 
 
 Thou wast reared, till lack of money 
 Drew thee from thy vineclad home : 
 
 And thy mate, the sinewy Jocko, 
 
 Erom Brazil or Afric came. 
 Land of simoom and sirocco — 
 
 And he seems extremely tame. 
 
26 LINES ON EEARINO TEE ORGAN. 
 
 There he quaffed the undefiled 
 Spring, or hung with apelike glee, 
 
 By his teeth or tail or eyelid, 
 To the slippery mango-tree: 
 
 There he wooed and won a dusky 
 Bride, of instincts like his own; 
 
 Talked of love till he was husky 
 In a tongue to us unknown : 
 
 Side by side 'twas theirs to ravage 
 
 The potato-ground, or cut 
 Down the unsuspecting savage 
 
 With the well-aimed cocoa-nut: — 
 
 Till the miscreant Stranger tore him 
 Screaming from his blue-faced fair; 
 
 And they flung strange raiment o'er him, 
 Eaiment which he could not bear. 
 
LINES ON HEARING THE ORGAN 27 
 
 Severed from the pure embraces 
 
 Of his children and his spouse, 
 He must ride fantastic races 
 
 Mounted on reluctant sows: 
 
 But the heart of wistful Jocko 
 Still was with his ancient flame 
 
 In the nutgroves of Morocco; 
 Or if not it*s all the same. 
 
 Grinder, winsome grinsome Grinder! 
 
 They who see thee and whose soul 
 Melts not at thy charms, are blinder 
 
 Than a trebly-bandaged mole: 
 
 They to whom thy curt (yet clever) 
 
 Talk, thy music and thine ape, 
 Seem not to be joys for ever. 
 
 Are but brutes in human shape. 
 
28 LINES ON HEARING TEE ORGAN. 
 
 'Tis not that thy mien is stately, 
 *Tis not that thy tones are soft; 
 
 'Tis not that I care so greatly 
 For the same thing played so oft : 
 
 But I've heard mankind abuse thee; 
 
 And perhaps it's rather strange, 
 But I thought that I would choose thee 
 
 Por encomium, as a change. 
 
CHANGED. 
 
 T KI^OW not why my soul is racked: 
 Why I ne'er smile as was my wont : 
 I only know that, as a fact, 
 
 I don't. 
 I used to roam o'er glen and glade 
 Buoyant and blithe as other folk : 
 And not unfrequently I made 
 A joke. 
 
 A minstrel's fire within me burned. 
 
 I 'd sing, as one whose heart must break, 
 Lay upon lay: I nearly learned 
 To shake. 
 
30 CHANGED. 
 
 All day I sang; of love, of fame, 
 
 Of fights our fathers fought of yore. 
 Until the thing almost became 
 A bore. 
 
 I cannot sing the old songs now ! 
 
 It is not that I deem them low; 
 'Tis that I can^t remember how 
 
 They go. 
 I could not range the hills till high 
 
 Above me stood the summer moon: 
 And as to dancing, I could fly 
 As soon. 
 
 The sports, to which with boyish glee 
 I sprang erewhile, attract no more; 
 Although I am but sixty-three 
 Or four. 
 
CHANGED. 31 
 
 Nay, worse than that, I've seemed of late 
 
 To shrink from happy boyhood — boys 
 Have grown so noisy, and I hate 
 A noise. 
 
 They fright me, when the beech is green, 
 
 By swarming up its stem for eggs : 
 They drive their horrid hoops between 
 
 My legs: — 
 It's idle to repine, I know; 
 
 I'U tell you what I'll do instead: 
 I'll drink my arrowroot, and go 
 To bed. 
 
FIRST LOYE. 
 
 r\ MY earliest love, who, ere I numbered 
 Ten sweet summers, made my bosom thrill ! 
 
 Will a swallow — or a swift, or some bird — 
 Ply to her and say, I love her still? 
 
 Say my life's a desert drear and arid, 
 To its one green spot I aye recur : 
 
 Never, never — although three times married — 
 Have I cared a jot for aught but her. 
 
 No, mine own! though early forced to leave you, 
 Still my heart was there where first we met; 
 
 In those '* Lodgings with an ample sea- view," 
 Which were, forty years ago, ''To Let/' 
 
FIRST LOVE. 33 
 
 There I saw her first, our landlord's oldest 
 Little daughter. On a thing so fair 
 
 Thou, Sun, — who (so they say) beholdest 
 Everything, — ^hast gazed, I tell thee, ne'er. 
 
 There she sat — so near me, yet remoter 
 Than a star — a blue-eyed bashful imp: 
 
 On her lap she held a happy bloater, 
 'Twixt her lips a yet more happy shrimp. 
 
 And I loved her, and our troth we plighted 
 On the morrow by the shingly shore; 
 
 In a fortnight to be disunited 
 By a bitter fate for evermore. 
 
 my own, my beautiful, my blue-eyed! 
 
 To be young once more, and bite my thumb 
 At the world and all its cares with you, I'd 
 
 Give no inconsiderable sum. 
 
34 FIRST LOVE. 
 
 Hand in hand we tramped the golden seaweed, 
 Soon as o^er the gray cliff peeped the dawn: 
 
 Side by side, when came the hour for tea, we'd 
 Crunch the mottled shrimp and hairy prawn : — 
 
 Has she wedded some gigantic shrimper, 
 
 That sweet mite with whom I loved to play? 
 
 Is she girt with babes that whine and whimper, 
 That bright being who was always gay? 
 
 Yes — she has at least a dozen wee-things! 
 
 Yes — I see her darning corduroys. 
 Scouring floors, and setting out the teathings, 
 
 For a howling herd of hungry boys, 
 
 In a home that reeks of tar and sperm- oil ! 
 
 Eut at intervals she thinks, I know. 
 Of these days which we, afar from turmoil. 
 
 Spent together forty years ago. 
 
FIRST LOVE, 35 
 
 my earliest love, still unforgotten, 
 "With your downcast eyes of dreamy blue! 
 
 Kever, somehow, could I seem to cotton 
 To another as I did to you! 
 
WANDERERS. 
 
 AS o'er the hill we roamed at will, 
 My dog and I together, 
 We marked a chaise, by two bright bays 
 Slow-moved along the heather: 
 
 Two bays arch-necked, with tails erect 
 And gold upon their blinkers; 
 
 And by their side an ass I spied; 
 It was a travelling tinker's. 
 
 The chaise went by, nor aught cared I; 
 
 Such things are not in my way: 
 I turned me to the tinker, who 
 
 Was loafing down a by-way: 
 
WANDERERS, 37 
 
 I asked him where he lived — a stare 
 
 Was all I got in answer, 
 As on he trudged: I rightly judged 
 
 The stare said ''Where I can, Sir." 
 
 I asked him if he'd take a whiff 
 
 Of 'bacco; he acceded; 
 He grew communicative too, 
 
 (A pipe was all he needed,) 
 TiU of the tinker's life I think 
 
 I knew as much as he did. 
 
 *'I loiter down by thorp and town; 
 For any job I'm willing; 
 Take here and there a dusty brown, 
 And here and there a shilling. 
 
 "I deal in every ware in turn, 
 I've rings for buddin' SaUy 
 That sparkle like those eyes of her'n ; 
 I've liq^uor for the valet. 
 
38 WANDERERS. 
 
 "I steal from th' parson's strawberry-plots, 
 I Mde by tb' squire's covers; 
 I teacb tbe sweet young bousemaids wbat's 
 Tbe art of trapping lovers. 
 
 "Tbe tbings I've done 'neatb moon and stars 
 Have got me into messes; 
 I've seen tbe sky tbrougb prison bars, 
 I've torn up prison dresses: 
 
 "I've sat, I've sigbed, I've gloomed, I've glanced 
 Witb envy at tbe swallows 
 Tbat tbrougb tbe window slid, and danced 
 (Quite bappy) round tbe gallows: 
 
 "But out again I come, and sbew 
 My face nor care a stiver; 
 For trades are brisk and trades are slow. 
 But mine goes on for ever." 
 
 Thus on lie prattled like a babbling brook. 
 Then I, '^The sun has slipt behind the hill, 
 And my aunt Yivian dines at half-past six." 
 So in all love we parted; I to the Hall, 
 They to the village. It was noised next noon 
 That chickens had been missed at Syllabub Farm. 
 
SAD MEMORIES. 
 
 rPHEY tell me I am beautiful: they praise my 
 
 silken hair, 
 My little feet that sileutly slip on from stair to 
 
 stair : 
 They praise my pretty trustfal face and innocent 
 
 gray eye; 
 Fond hands caress me oftentimes, yet would that 
 
 I might die! 
 
 "Why was I bom to be abhorred of man and bird 
 
 and beast? 
 The bulfinch marks me stealing by, and straight his 
 
 song hath ceased; 
 
40 SAD MEMORIES, 
 
 The shrewmouse eyes me shudderingly, then flees; 
 
 and worse than that, 
 The housedog he flees after me — why was I born 
 
 a cat? 
 
 Men prize the heartless hound who quits dry-eyed 
 his native land; 
 
 "Who wags a mercenary tail and licks a tyrant 
 hand. 
 
 The leal true cat they prize not, that if e'er com- 
 pelled to roam 
 
 Still flies, when let out of the bag, precipitately 
 home. 
 
 They call me cruel. Do I know if mouse or song- 
 bird feels? 
 I only know they make me light and salutary meals : 
 And if, as 'tis my nature to, ere I devour I tease 
 'em. 
 
SAB MEMORIES. 41 
 
 Why should a low-bred gardener's boy pursue me 
 with a besom? 
 
 Should china fall or chandeliers, or anything but 
 stocks — 
 
 Nay stocks, when they're in flowerpots — the cat 
 expects hard knocks: 
 
 Should ever anything be missed — milk, coals, um- 
 brellas, brandy — 
 
 The cat's pitched into with a boot or any thing 
 that's handy. 
 
 I remember, I remember, how one night I fleeted 
 
 by. 
 
 And gained the blessed tiles and gazed into the 
 
 cold clear sky. 
 I remember, I remember, how my various lovers 
 
 came; 
 And there, beneath the crescent moon, played many 
 
 a little game. 
 
42 SAD MEMORIES. 
 
 They fought — by good St. Catharine, 'twas a fear- 
 some sight to see 
 
 The coal-black crest, the glowering orbs, of one 
 gigantic He. 
 
 Like bow by some tall bowman bent at Hastings 
 or Poictiers, 
 
 His huge back curved, till none observed a vestige 
 of his ears : 
 
 He stood, an ebon crescent, flouting yon ivory 
 moon ; 
 
 Then raised the pibroch of his race, the Song with- 
 out a Tune: 
 
 Gleamed his white teeth, his mammoth tail waved 
 darkly to and fro. 
 
 As with one complex yell he burst, all claws, 
 upon the foe. 
 
 It thrills me now, that final Miaow — that weird 
 unearthly din: 
 
SAD MEMORIES, 43 
 
 Lone maidens heard it far away, and leaped out 
 
 of their skin. 
 A potboy from his den overhead peeped with a 
 
 scared wan face; 
 Then sent a random brickbat down, which knocked 
 
 me into space. 
 
 Nine days I fell, or thereabouts : and, had we not 
 
 nine lives, 
 I wis I ne'er had seen again thy sausage-shop, 
 
 St. Ives I 
 Had I, as some cats have, nine tails, how gladly 
 
 I would lick 
 The hand, and person generally, of him who heaved 
 
 that brick! 
 
 For me they fill the milkbowl up, and cull the 
 
 choice sardine: 
 But ah ! I nevermore shall be the cat I once have 
 
 been ! 
 
44 SAB MEMORIES, 
 
 The memories of that fatal night they haunt me 
 
 even now: 
 In dreams I see that rampant He, and tremble at 
 
 that Miaow. 
 
COMPANIONS. 
 A TALE OF A GKANDFATHEE. 
 
 T KNOW not of what we pondered 
 
 Or made pretty pretence to talk, 
 As, her hand within mine, we wandered 
 Toward the pool by the limetree walk, 
 While the dew fell in showers from the passion 
 flowers 
 And the blush-rose bent on her stalk. 
 
 I cannot recall her figure: 
 
 Was it regal as Juno's own? 
 Or only a trifle bigger 
 
 Than the elves who surround the throne 
 Of the Faery Queen, and are seen, I ween. 
 
 By mortals in dreams alone? 
 
46 COMPANIONS. 
 
 Wliat her eyes were like I know not: 
 Perhaps they were blurred with tears; 
 
 And perhaps in yon skies there glow not 
 (On the contrary) clearer spheres. 
 No! as to her eyes I am just as wise 
 As 3^ou or the cat, my dears. 
 
 Her teeth, I presume, were '' pearly": 
 
 But which was she, brunette or blonde? 
 Her hair, was it quaintly curly, 
 Or as straight as a beadle's wand? 
 That I failed to remark; — it was rather dark 
 And shadowy round the pond. 
 
 Then the hand that reposed so snugly 
 In mine — was it plump or spare? 
 
 "Was the countenance fair or ugly? 
 Nay, children, you have me there ! 
 My eyes were perhaps blurred ; and besides I'd heard 
 That it's horribly rude to stare. 
 
COMPANIONS. 47 
 
 And I — was I brusque and surly? 
 
 Or oppressively bland and fond? 
 Was I partial to rising early? 
 
 Or wby did we twain abscond, 
 When nobody knew, from the public view 
 
 To prowl by a misty pond? 
 
 What passed, what was felt or spoken — 
 Whether anything passed at all — 
 
 And whether the heart was broken 
 
 That beat under that sheltering shawl — 
 (If shawl she had on, which I doubt) — has gone. 
 Yes, gone from me past recall. 
 
 Was I haply the lady's saitor? 
 
 Or her uncle? I canH make out — 
 Ask your governess, dears, or tutor. 
 
 For myself, I'm in hopeless doubt 
 As to why we were there, who on earth we were, 
 
 And what this is all about. 
 
BALLAD. 
 
 rpHE auld wife sat at her ivied door, 
 f Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese) 
 
 A thing she had frequently done before; 
 
 And her spectacles lay on her aproned knees. 
 
 The piper he piped on the hill-top high, 
 f Butter and eggs and a pound oj cheese) 
 
 Till the cow said ''I die," and the goose asked 
 '^Whyr 
 And the dog said nothing, but searched for fleas. 
 
 The farmer he strode through the square farmyard ; 
 
 (Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese) 
 His last brew of ale was a trifle hard — 
 
 The connexion of which with the plot one sees. 
 
BALLAD, 49 
 
 The farmer's daughter hath frank blue eyes; 
 
 (Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese) 
 She hears the rooks caw in the windy skies, 
 
 As she sits at her lattice and shells her peas. 
 
 The farmer's daughter hath ripe red lips; 
 
 (Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese) 
 If you try to approach her, away she skips 
 
 Over tables and chairs with apparent ease. 
 
 The farmer's daughter hath soft brown hair; 
 
 (Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese) 
 And I met with a ballad, I can't say where, 
 
 "Which wholly consisted of lines like these. 
 
 Part II. 
 
 She sat with her hands 'neath her dimpled cheeks, 
 (Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese) 
 
 And spake not a word. While a lady speaks 
 There is hope, but she didn't even sneeze. 
 
50 BALLAD. 
 
 She sat, with her hands 'neath her crimson cheeks ; 
 
 (Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese J 
 She gave up mending her father's breeks, 
 
 And let the cat roll in her best chemise. 
 
 She sat, with her hands 'neath her burning cheeks, 
 (Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese) 
 
 And gazed at the piper for thirteen weeks; 
 
 Then she followed him out o'er the misty leas. 
 
 Her sheep followed her, as their tails did them. 
 
 (Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese) 
 And this song is considered a perfect gem, 
 
 And as to the meaning, it's what you please. 
 
PEECIOTJS STOIS'ES. 
 AN INCIDENT IN MODERN HISTORY. 
 
 TITY Cherrystones! I prize them, 
 
 iNo tongue can tell how much! 
 Each lady caller eyes them, 
 
 And madly longs to touch! 
 At eve I lift them down, I look 
 
 Upon them, and I cry; 
 Recalling how my Prince * partook' 
 
 (Sweet word !) of cherry-pie ! 
 
 To me it was an Era 
 
 In life, that Dejeuner! 
 They ate, they sipped Madeira 
 
 Much in the usual way. 
 
52 FRECIOm S TONUS. 
 
 Many a soft item there would be, 
 'No doubt, upon the carte : 
 
 But one made life a heaven to me : 
 It was the cherry-tart. 
 
 Lightly the spoonfuls entered 
 
 That mouth on which the gaze 
 Of ten fair girls was centred 
 
 In rapturous amaze. 
 Soon that august assemblage cleared 
 
 The dish; and — as they ate — 
 The stones, all coyly, reappeared 
 
 On each illustrious plate. 
 
 And when His Royal Highness 
 Withdrew to take the air, 
 
 Waiving our natural shyness, 
 "We swooped upon his chair. 
 
PEEGJOUS STONES. 53 
 
 Policemen at our garments clutched: 
 We mocked those feeble powers; 
 
 And soon the treasures that had touched 
 Exalted lips were ours ! 
 
 One large one — at the moment 
 
 It seemed almost divine — 
 Was got by that Miss Eeaumont: 
 
 And three, three, are mine! 
 Yes ! the three stones that rest beneath 
 
 Glass, on that plain deal shelf, 
 Stranger, once dallied with the teeth 
 
 Of Eoyalty itself. 
 
 Let Parliament abolish 
 
 Churches and States and Thrones: 
 With reverent hand 1*11 polish 
 
 Still, still my Cherrystones! 
 
54 PRECIOUS STONES. 
 
 A clod — a piece of orangepeel — 
 
 An end of a cigar — 
 Once trod on by a Princely heel, 
 
 How beautiful they are! 
 
 Years since, I climbed Saint Michael 
 
 His Mount: — you'll all go there 
 Of course, and those who like '11 
 
 Sit in Saint Michael's Chair: 
 Eor there I saw, within a frame. 
 
 The pen — heavens ! the pen — 
 "With which a Duke had signed his name. 
 
 And other gentlemen. 
 
 ''Great among geese," I faltered, 
 "Is she who grew that quill!" 
 
 And, Deathless Eird, unaltered 
 Is mine opinion still. 
 
FEECIOTJS STONES. 55 
 
 Yet sometimes, as I view my three 
 Stones with sweet thoughtful brow, 
 
 I think there possibly might be 
 E'en greater geese than thou. 
 
DISASTEE. 
 
 'T^WAS ever thus from childhood's hour! 
 
 My fondest hopes would not decay: 
 I never loved a tree or flower 
 
 Which was the first to fade away! 
 The garden, where I used to delve 
 
 Short-frocked, still yields me pinks in plenty : 
 The peartree that I climbed at twelve 
 
 I see still blossoming, at twenty. 
 
 I never nursed a dear gazelle. 
 
 But I was given a parroquet — 
 How I did nurse him if unwell ! 
 
 He's imbecile, but lingers yet. 
 
DISASTER. 57 
 
 He*s green, with an enchanting tuft; 
 
 He melts me with his small black eye : 
 He'd look inimitable stuffed, 
 
 And knows it — but he will not die! 
 
 I had a kitten — I was rich 
 
 In pets — ^but all too soon my kitten 
 Became a full-sized cat, by which 
 
 I've more than once been scratched and bitten 
 And when for sleep her limbs she curled 
 
 One day beside her untouched plateful, 
 And glided calmly from the world, 
 
 I freely own that I was grateful. 
 
 And then I bought a dog — a queen ! 
 
 Ah Tiny, dear departing pug! 
 She lives, but she is past sixteen 
 
 And scarce can crawl across the rug. 
 
58 DISASTER, 
 
 I loved her beautiful and kind; 
 
 Delighted in her pert Bow-wow: 
 But now she snaps if you don't mind; 
 
 'Twere lunacy to love her now. 
 
 I used to think, should e'er mishap 
 
 Betide my crumple-visaged Ti, 
 In shape of prowling thief, or trap. 
 
 Or coarse buUterrier — I should die. 
 But ah! disasters have their use; 
 
 And life might e'en be too sunshiny: 
 Nor would I make myself a goose, 
 
 If some big dog should swallow Tiny. 
 
COISTTENTMEI^T. 
 AFTER THE MANNER OF HORACE. 
 
 Tj^EIEND, there be they on whom mishap 
 
 Or never or so rarely comes, 
 That, when they think thereof, they snap 
 Derisive thumbs: 
 
 And there be they who lightly lose 
 
 Their all, yet feel no aching void; 
 Should aught annoy them, they refuse 
 To be annoyed: 
 
 And fain would I be e'en as these! 
 
 Life is with such all beer and skittles; 
 They are not difficult to please 
 About their victuals: 
 
60 CONTENTMENT. 
 
 The trout, the grouse, the early pea, 
 By such, if there, are freely taken; 
 If not, they munch with equal glee 
 Their bit of bacon: 
 
 And when they wax a little gay 
 
 And chaff the public after luncheon. 
 If they^re confronted with a stray 
 Policeman's truncheon, 
 
 They gaze thereat with outstretched necks, 
 
 And laughter which no threats can smother, 
 And tell the horror-stricken X 
 That he's another. 
 
 In snowtime if they cross a spot 
 
 Where unsuspected boys have slid, 
 They fall not down — though they would not 
 Mind if they did: 
 
CONTENTMENT. 61 
 
 "When the spring rosebud which they wear 
 Breaks short and tumbles from its stem, 
 1^0 thought of being angry e'er 
 . Dawns upon them ; 
 
 Though Hwas Jemima's hand that placed, 
 (As well you ween) at evening's hour, 
 In the loved buttonhole that chaste 
 And cherished flower. 
 
 And when they travel, if they find 
 
 That they have left their pocket-compass 
 Or Murray or thick boots behind, 
 They raise no rumpus, 
 
 But plod serenely on without: 
 
 Knowing it's better to endure 
 The evil which beyond all doubt 
 You cannot cure. 
 
62 CONTENTMENT. 
 
 When for that early train they're late, 
 
 They do not make their woes the text 
 Of sermons in the Times, but wait 
 On for the next ; 
 
 And jump inside, and only grin 
 
 Should it appear that that dry wag. 
 The guard, omitted to put in 
 Their carpet-bag. 
 
THE SCHOOLMASTEE 
 ABROAD WITH HIS SON. 
 
 f\ WHAT harper could worthily harp it, 
 Mine Edward! this wide-stretching wold 
 
 (Look out wold) with its wonderful carpet 
 Of emerald, purple, and gold! 
 
 Look weU at it — also look sharp, it 
 Is getting so cold. 
 
 The purple is heather {erica) \ 
 
 The yellow, gorse — called sometimes ''whin." 
 Cruel boys on its prickles might spike a 
 
 Green beetle as if on a pin. 
 You may roll in it, if you would like a 
 Eew holes in your skin. 
 
64 TEE SCEOOLMASTER ABROAD 
 
 You wouldn't? Then think of how kind you 
 Should be to the insects who crave 
 
 Your compassion — and then, look behind you 
 At yon barley-ears! Don't they look brave 
 
 As they undulate — {undulate , mind you, 
 From unda, a wave.) 
 
 The noise of those sheep-bells, how faint it 
 Sounds here — (on account of our height)! 
 
 And this hillock itself — who could paint it, 
 "With its changes of shadow and light? 
 
 Is it not — (never, Eddy, say "ain't it") — 
 A marvellous sight? 
 
 Then yon desolate eerie morasses, 
 
 The haunts of the snipe and the hern — 
 
 (I shall question the two upper classes 
 On aquatileSy when we return) — 
 
 Why, I see on them absolute masses 
 Oi filix or fern. 
 
WITE SIS SON, 65 
 
 How it interests e*en a beginner 
 
 (Or tiro) like dear little 'Nedl 
 Is he listening? As I am a sinner 
 
 He's asleep — he is wagging his head. 
 Wake up ! I '11 go home to my dinner, 
 And you to your bed. 
 
 The boundless ineffable prairie; 
 
 The splendour of mountain and lake 
 With their hues that seem ever to vary; 
 
 The mighty pine forests which shake 
 In the wind, and in which the unwary 
 May tread on a snake; 
 
 And this wold with its heathery garment — 
 
 Are themes undeniably great. 
 But — although there is not any harm in't — 
 
 It's perhaps little good to dilate 
 On their charms to a dull little varmint 
 Of seven or eight. 
 
 p 
 
ARCADES AMBO. 
 
 "XXTHY are ye wandering aye 'twixt porcli and 
 porch, 
 Thou and thy fellow — when the pale stars fade 
 At dawn, and when the glowworm lights her 
 torch, 
 Beadle of the Burlington Arcade? 
 — "Who asketh why the Beautiful was made? 
 A wan cloud drifting o'er the waste of blue, 
 
 The thistledown that floats above the glade. 
 The lilac-blooms of April — fair to view. 
 And naught but fair are these; and such, I ween, 
 are you. 
 
ARCADES AMBO. 67 
 
 Yes, ye are beautiful. The young street boys 
 
 Joy in your beauty. Are ye there to bar 
 Their pathway to that paradise of toys, 
 
 Eibbons and rings? Who'll blame ye if ye 
 
 are? 
 Surely no shrill and clattering crowd should 
 mar 
 The dim aisle's stillness, where in noon's mid-glow 
 Trip fair-haired girls to boot-shop or bazaar; 
 "Where, at soft eve, serenely to and fro 
 The sweet boy-graduates walk, nor deem the pastime 
 slow. 
 
 And Oh ! forgive me. Beadles, if I paid 
 
 Scant tribute to your worth, when first ye 
 stood 
 
 Before me robed in broadcloth and brocade 
 And all the nameless grace of Beadlehood! 
 I would not smile at ye — if smile I could 
 
68 ARCADES AMBO. 
 
 Now as erewhile, ere I had learned to sigh : 
 
 Ah, no ! I know ye beautiful and good, 
 And evermore will pause as I pass by, 
 And gaze, and gazing think, how base a thing 
 am I. 
 
WAITING. 
 
 (^ COME, come," tlie mother prayed 
 And hushed her babe: ''let me behold 
 
 Once more thy stately form arrayed 
 Like autumn woods in green and gold ! 
 
 **I see thy brethren come and go; 
 Thy peers in stature, and in hue 
 Thy rivals. Some like monarchs glow 
 "With richest purple : some are blue 
 
 ''As skies that tempt the swallow back; 
 Or red as, seen o'er wintry seas, 
 The star of storm; or barred with black 
 And yellow, like the April bees. 
 
70 TFAITI^a. 
 
 "Come they and go! I heed not, I. 
 Yet others hail their advent, cling 
 All trustful to their side, and fly- 
 Safe in their gentle piloting 
 
 " To happy homes on heath or hill, 
 Ey park or river. Still I wait 
 And peer into the darkness: still 
 Thou com'st not — I am desolate. 
 
 ''Hush! hark! I see a towering form! 
 Erom the dim distance slowly rolled 
 It rocks like lilies in a storm. 
 
 And its hues are green and gold: 
 
 *'It comes, it comes! Ah rest is sweet, 
 And there is rest, my babe, for us!" 
 She ceased, as at her very feet 
 
 Stopped the St. John's Wood omnibus. 
 
PLAY. 
 
 T>LAY, play, while as yet it is day: 
 
 "While the sweet sunlight is warm od the brae! 
 
 Hark to the lark singing lay npon lay, 
 
 While the brown squirrel eats nuts on the spray 
 
 And in the apple-leaves chatters the jay ! 
 
 Play, play, even as they! 
 
 What though the cowslips ye pluck will decay, 
 
 What though the grass will be presently hay? 
 
 What though the noise that ye make should dismay 
 
 Old Mrs. Clutterbuck over the way? 
 
 Play, play, for your locks will grow gray; 
 
 Even the marbles ye sport with are clay. 
 
72 rZAY. 
 
 Play, ay in the crowded highway: 
 "Was it not made for you? Yea, my lad, yea. 
 True that the babes you were bid to convey 
 Home may fall out or be stolen or stray; 
 True that the tip-cat you toss about may 
 Strike an old gentleman, cause him to sway. 
 Stumble, and p'raps be run o'er by a dray: 
 Still why delay? Play, my son, play! 
 Barclay and Perkins, not you, have to pay. 
 
 Play, play, your sonatas in A, 
 Heedless of what your next neighbour may say! 
 Dance and be gay as a faun or a fay. 
 Sing like the lad in the boat on the bay; 
 Sing, play — if your neighbours inveigh 
 Feebly against you, they're lunatics, eh? 
 Bang, twang, clatter and clang, 
 Strum, thrum, upon fiddle and drum; 
 
FLAY. 73 
 
 ^NTeigh, bray, simply obey 
 All your sweet impulses, stop not or stay! 
 Battle the * bones,' hit a tinbottomed tray 
 Hard with the fireshovel, hammer away! 
 Is not your neighbour your natural prey? 
 Should he confound you, it's only in play. 
 
LOYE. 
 
 pAlSrST thou love me, lady? 
 
 IVe not learned to woo: 
 Thou art on the shady 
 
 Side of sixty too. 
 Still I love thee dearly! 
 
 Thoa hast lands and pelf: 
 But I love thee merely 
 
 Merely for thyself. 
 
 Wilt thou love me, fairest? 
 
 Though thou art not fair; 
 And I think thou wearest 
 
 Someone-else's hair. 
 
LOVE. 76 
 
 Thou could' st love, though, dearly: 
 
 And, as I am told. 
 Thou art very nearly 
 
 Worth thy weight, in gold. 
 
 Dost thou love me, sweet one? 
 
 Tell me that thou dost! 
 Women fairly beat one, 
 
 But I think thou must. 
 Thou art loved so dearly: 
 
 I am plain, but then 
 Thou (to speak sincerely) 
 
 Art as plain again. 
 
 Love me, bashful fairy! 
 
 I Ve an empty purse : 
 And I've "moods,*' which vary; 
 
 Mostly for the worse. 
 
76 LOVE. 
 
 Still/ I love thee dearly : 
 Though I make (I feel) 
 
 Love a little queerly, 
 I'm as true as steel. 
 
 Love me, swear to love me 
 
 (As, you know, they do) 
 By yon heaven above me 
 
 And its changeless blue. 
 Love me, lady, dearly, 
 
 If you'll be so good; 
 Though I don't see clearly 
 
 On what ground yon should. 
 
 Love me — ah or love me 
 Kot, but be my bride ! 
 
 Do not simply shove me 
 (So to speak) aside! 
 
LOVE. 77 
 
 P'raps it would be dearly 
 Purchased at the price; 
 
 But a hundred yearly 
 Would be very nice. 
 
THOUGHTS AT A EAILWAY STATION. 
 
 'n^IS bat a box, of modest deal; 
 
 Directed to no matter where: 
 Yet down my cheek the teardrops steal — 
 Yes, I am blubbering like a seal ; 
 For on it is this mute appeal, 
 '*mth care.'' 
 
 1 am a stern cold man, and range 
 
 Apart: but those vague words '^TFith care'' 
 Wake yearnings in me sweet as strange: 
 Drawn from my moral Moated Grange, 
 I feel I rather like the change 
 Of air. 
 
THOUGHTS AT A RAILWAY STATION. 79 
 
 Hast thou ne'er seen rough pointsmen spy- 
 Some simple English phrase — ^^With care'^ 
 Or ^^TMs side uj^permosV^ — and cry 
 Like children? iN'o? 'Eo more have I. 
 Yet deem not him whose eyes are dry 
 A hear. 
 
 But ah! what treasure hides heneath 
 
 That lid so much the worse for wear? 
 A ring perhaps — a rosy wreath — 
 A photograph by Yernon Heath — 
 Some matron's temporary teeth 
 Or hair! 
 
 Perhaps some seaman, in Peru 
 
 Or Ind, hath stowed herein a rare 
 Cargo of birds' eggs for his Sue; 
 With many a vow that he'll be true, 
 And many a hint that she is too 
 Too fair. 
 
80 THOUGHTS AT A ItAMWAY STATION. 
 
 Perhaps — but wherefore vainly pry 
 
 Into the page that's folded there? 
 I shall be better by and bye: 
 The porters, as I sit and sigh, 
 Pass and repass — I wonder why 
 They stare! 
 
OIT THE BEmX. 
 
 T WATCHED her as she stooped to pluck 
 
 A wildflower in her hair to twine; 
 And wished that it had been my luck 
 To call her mine. 
 
 Anon I heard her rate with mad 
 
 Mad words her babe within its cot; 
 And felt particularly glad 
 That it had not. 
 
 I knew (such subtle brains have men) 
 
 That she was uttering what she shouldn't; 
 And thought that I would chide, and then 
 I thought I wouldn't: 
 
82 ON THE BRINK, 
 
 Few could have gazed upon that face, 
 
 Those pouting coral lips, and chided : 
 A Rhadamanthus, in my place, 
 Had done as I did: 
 
 For wrath with which our bosoms glow 
 
 Is chained there oft by Eeauty^s spell; 
 And, more than that, I did not know 
 The widow well. 
 
 So the harsh phrase passed unreproved. 
 
 Still mute — (0 brothers, was it sin?) — 
 I drank, unutterably moved. 
 Her beauty in: 
 
 And to myself I murmured low. 
 
 As on her upturned face and dress 
 The moonlight fell, ^ would she say No 
 By chance, or Yes?' 
 
ON TEE BRINK. 83 
 
 She stood so calm, so like a ghost 
 
 Betwixt me and that magic mo6n, 
 That I already was almost 
 A finished coon. 
 
 But when she caught adroitly up 
 
 And soothed with smiles her little daughter; 
 And gave it, if I'm right, a sup 
 Of barley-water; 
 
 And, crooning still the strange sweet lore 
 "Which only mothers' tongues can utter, 
 Snowed with deft hand the sugar o'er 
 Its bread-and-butter; 
 
 And kissed it clingingly — (Ah, why 
 
 Don't women do these things in private?) — 
 I felt that if I lost her, I 
 
 Should not survive it: 
 
84 ON TEE BRINK. 
 
 And from my moutli the words nigh flew — 
 
 The past, the future, I forgat 'em: 
 "0! if you'd kiss me as you do 
 That thankless atom !" 
 
 But this thought came ere yet I spake, 
 
 And froze the sentence on my lips: 
 *' They err, who marry wives that make 
 Those little slips." 
 
 It came like some familiar rhyme, 
 Some copy to my boyhood set; 
 And that 's perhaps the reason I 'm 
 Unmarried yet. 
 
 "Would she have owned how pleased she was. 
 
 And told her love with widow's pride ? 
 I never found out that, because 
 I never tried. 
 
ON TEE BRINK. 85 
 
 Be kind to babes and beasts and birds: 
 
 Hearts may be bard, though lips are coral; 
 And angry words are angry words: 
 And that's the moral. 
 
"FOEEYEE." 
 
 XpOEEYEE! 'Tis a single word! 
 
 Our rude forefathers deemed it two : 
 Can you imagine so absurd 
 A view? 
 
 Forever! What abysms of woe 
 
 The word reveals, what frenzy, what 
 Despair! For ever (printed so) 
 Did not. 
 
 It looks, ah me! how trite and tame! 
 
 It fails to sadden or appal 
 Or solace — it is not the same 
 At all. 
 
'^FOREVERr 87 
 
 thou to whom it first occurred 
 
 To solder the disjoined, and dower 
 Thy native language with a word 
 Of power : 
 
 We bless thee! "Whether far or near 
 Thy dwelling, whether dark or fair 
 Thy kingly brow, is neither here 
 Nor there. 
 
 But in men's hearts shall be thy throne, 
 
 "While the great pulse of England beats: 
 Thou coiner of a word unknown 
 To Keats! 
 
 And nevermore must printer do 
 
 As men did longago; but run 
 
 '*For" into ''ever,'' bidding two 
 
 Be one. 
 
88 ''FOREVERr 
 
 Forever! passion-fraaght, it throws 
 
 O'er the dim page a gloom, a glamour : 
 It's sweet, it's strange; and I suppose 
 It's grammar. 
 
 Forever ! 'Tis a single word ! 
 
 And yet our fathers deemed it two: 
 ]N"or am I confident they erred; 
 Are yoa? 
 
UNDEE THE TEEES. 
 
 ''TTJS'DEE the trees!" "Who but agrees 
 That there is magic in words such as these? 
 Promptly one sees shake in the breeze 
 Stately lime-avenues haunted of bees: 
 Where, looking far over buttercupped leas, 
 Lads and '^fair shes" (that is Byron, and he's 
 An authority) lie very much at their ease; 
 Taking their teas, or their duck and green peas, 
 Or, if they prefer it, their plain bread and cheese : 
 Kot objecting at all though it's rather a squeeze 
 And the glass is I daresay at 80 degrees. 
 Some get up glees, and are mad about Eies 
 And Sainton, and Tamberlik's thrilling high Cs; 
 
90 UNDER THE TREES. 
 
 Or if painter, hold forth upon Hunt and Maclise, 
 And the tone and the breadth of that landscape 
 
 of Lee's; 
 Or if learned, on nodes and the moon's apogees, 
 Or, if serious, on something of AKHB's, 
 Or the latest attempt to convert the Chaldees; 
 Or in short about all things, from earthquakes to 
 
 fleas. 
 Some sit in twos or (less frequently) threes. 
 With their innocent lambswool or book on their 
 
 » knees. 
 And talk, and enact, any nonsense you please. 
 As they gaze into eyes that are blue as the seas; 
 And you hear an occasional "Harry, don't tease" 
 From the sweetest of lips in the softest -of keys, 
 And other remarks, which to me are Chinese. 
 And fast the time flees; till a ladylike sneeze, 
 Or a portly papa's more elaborate wheeze. 
 Makes Miss Tabitha seize on her brown muffatees, 
 
UNDER THE TREES, 91 
 
 And announce as a fact that it's going to freeze, 
 And that young people ought to attend to their Ps 
 And their Qs, and not court every form of disease : 
 Then Tommy eats up the three last ratifias, 
 And pretty Louise wraps her robe de cerise 
 Bound a bosom as tender as Widow Machree's, 
 And (in spite of the pleas of her lorn vis-a-vis) 
 Goes and wraps up her uncle — a patient of Skey*s, 
 Who is prone to catch chills, like all old Bengalese : — 
 But at bedtime I trust he'll remember to grease 
 The bridge of his nose, and preserve his rupees 
 From the premature clutch of his fond legatees ; 
 Or at least have no fees to pay any M.D.s 
 For the cold his niece caught sitting under the 
 Trees. 
 
MOTHERHOOD. 
 
 QHE laid it where the sunbeams fall 
 Unscanned upon the broken -wall. 
 Without a tear, without a groan, 
 She laid it near a mighty stone, 
 "Which some rude swain had haply cast 
 Thither in sport, long ages past, 
 And Time with mosses had o'erlaid, 
 And fenced with many a tall grassblade, 
 And all about bid roses bloom 
 And violets shed their soft perfume. 
 There, in its cool and quiet bed. 
 She set her burden down and fled : . 
 Nor flung, all eager to escape, 
 One glance upon the perfect shape 
 That lay, still warm and fresh and fair. 
 But motionless and soundless there. 
 
MOTHEREOOD. 93 
 
 "Eo human eye had marked her pass 
 Across the linden-shadowed grass 
 Ere yet the minster clock chimed seven: 
 Only the innocent birds of heaven — 
 The magpie, and the rook whose nest 
 Swings as the elmtree waves his crest — 
 And the lithe cricket, and the hoar 
 And huge-limbed hound that guards the door, 
 Looked on when, as a summer wind 
 That, passing, leaves no trace behind. 
 All unapparelled, barefoot all. 
 She ran to that old ruined wall, 
 To leave upon the chill dank earth 
 (For ah! she never knew its worth) 
 'Mid' hemlock rank, and fern, and ling, 
 And dews of night, that precious thing ! 
 
 And there it might have lain forlorn 
 From mom till eve, from eve to morn: 
 
94 MOTHERHOOD. 
 
 But that, by some wild impulse led, 
 The mother, ere she turned and fled, 
 One moment stood erect and high ; 
 Then poured into the silent sky 
 A cry so jubilant, so strange, 
 That Alice — as she strove to range 
 Her rebel ringlets at her glass — 
 Sprang up and gazed across the grass; 
 Shook back those curls so fair to see, 
 Clapped her soft hands in childish glee; 
 And shrieked — her sweet face all aglow, 
 
 Her very limbs with rapture shaking — 
 *^My hen has laid an eg^^ I know; 
 
 **And only hear the noise she^s making!" 
 
MYSTEEY. 
 
 T KITOW not if in other's eyes 
 
 She seemed almost divine j 
 But far beyond a doubt it lies 
 
 That she did not in mine. 
 
 Each common stone on which she trod 
 
 I did not deem a pearl: 
 Nay it is not a little odd 
 
 How I abhorred that girl. 
 
 We met at balls and picnics oft, : 
 Or on a drawingroom stair; 
 
 My aunt invariably coughed 
 To warn me she was there : 
 
96 MYSTERY. 
 
 At croquet I was bid remark 
 How queenly was her pose, 
 
 As with, stern glee she drew the dark 
 Blue ball beneath her toes, 
 
 And made the Eed fly many a foot: 
 Then calmly she would stoop, 
 
 Smiling an angel smile, to put 
 A partner through his hoop. 
 
 At archery I was made observe 
 That others aimed more near, 
 
 Bat none so tenderly could curve 
 The elbow round the ear: 
 
 Or if we rode, perhaps she did 
 
 Pull sharply at the curb; 
 But then the way in which she slid 
 
 From horseback was superb! 
 
MYSTERY. 97 
 
 She'd throw off odes, again, whose flow 
 And fire were more than Sapphic; 
 
 Her voice was sweet, and very low; 
 Her singing quite seraphic : 
 
 She was a seraph, lacking wings. 
 
 That much I freely own. 
 But, it is one of those queer things 
 
 Whose cause is all unknown — 
 
 (Such are the wasp, the household fly, 
 
 The shapes that crawl and curl 
 By men called centipedes) — ^that I 
 
 Simply abhorred that girl, 
 * * * 
 
 No doubt some mystery underlies 
 
 All things which are and which are not: 
 
 And 'tis the function of the Wise 
 Not to expound to us what is what, 
 
 H 
 
98 MYSTERY. 
 
 But let his consciousness play round 
 The matter, and at ease evolve 
 
 The problem, shallow or profound, 
 Which our poor wits have failed to solve, 
 
 Then tell us blandly we are fools; 
 "Whereof we were aware before: 
 . That truth they taught us at the schools. 
 And p'raps (who knows?) a little more. 
 
 — But why did we two disagree? 
 
 Our tastes, it may be, did not dovetail : 
 All I know is, we ne'er shall be 
 
 Hero and heroine of a love-tale. 
 
FLIGHT. 
 
 f\ MEMOEY ! that which I gave thee 
 To guard in thy garner yestreen — 
 
 Little deeming thou e'er could' st hehave thee 
 Thus hasely — hath gone from thee clean I 
 
 Gone, fled, as ere autumn is ended 
 The yellow leaves flee from the oak — 
 
 I have lost it for ever, my splendid 
 Original joke. 
 
 What was it? I know I was brushing 
 My hair when the notion occurred: 
 
 I know that I felt myself blushing 
 As I thought 'How supremely absurd! 
 
100 FLIGHT. 
 
 'How they'll hammer on floor and on table 
 
 'As its drollery dawns on them — how 
 'They will quote it' — I wish I were able 
 To quote it just now. 
 
 I had thought to lead up conversation 
 To the subject — it's easily done — 
 
 Then let off, as an airy creation 
 Of the moment, that masterly pun. 
 
 Let it off, with a flash like a rocket's; 
 In the midst of a dazzled conclave, 
 
 While I sat, with my hands in my pockets, 
 The only one grave. 
 
 I had fancied young Titterton's chuckles, 
 And old Eottleby's hearty guffaws 
 
 As he drove at my ribs with his knuckles, 
 His mode of expressing applause : 
 
FLIGRT, 101 
 
 "While Jean Bottleby — queenly Miss Janet — 
 
 Drew her handkerchief hastily out, 
 In fits at my slyness — what can it 
 
 Have all been about? 
 
 I know 'twas the happiest, quaintest 
 Combination of pathos and fun : 
 
 But I Ve got no idea — the faintest — 
 Of what was the actual pun. 
 
 I think it was somehow connected 
 With something I'd recently read — 
 
 Or heard — or perhaps recollected 
 On going to bed. 
 
 What tiad, I been reading? The Standard: 
 'Doable Bigamy'; 'Speech of the Mayor.' 
 
 And later — eh? yes! I meandered 
 
 Through some chapters of Yanity Fair. 
 
102 FLIGRT, 
 
 How it fuses the grave with the festive! 
 
 Yet e^en there, there is nothing so fine — 
 So playfully, subtly suggestive — 
 
 As that joke of mine. 
 
 Did it hinge upon 'parting asunder'? 
 
 1^0, I don't part my hair with my brush. 
 Was the point of it 'hair'? ITow I wonder! 
 
 Stop a bit — I shall think of it — hush! 
 There's harey a wild animal — Stuff! 
 
 It was something a deal more recondite: 
 Of that I am certain enough; 
 
 And of nothing beyond it. 
 
 Hair — lochs! There are probably many 
 Good things to be said about those. 
 
 Give me time — that's the best guess of any — 
 'Lock' has several meanings, one knows. 
 
 Iron locks — iron-gray lochs — a ' deadlock ' — 
 That would set up an everyday wit : 
 
FLIGHT. 103 
 
 Then of course there's the obvious 'wedlock'; 
 But that wasn't it. 
 
 No! mine was a joke for the ages; 
 
 Pull of intricate meaning and pith; 
 A feast for year scholars and sages — 
 
 How it would have rejoiced Sidney Smith ! 
 'Tis such thoughts that ennoble a mortal; 
 
 And, singling him out from the herd, 
 riing wide immortality's portal — 
 
 But what was the word? 
 
 Ah me! 'tis a bootless endeavour. 
 
 As the flight of a bird of the air 
 Is the flight of a joke — you will never 
 
 See the same one again, you may swear. 
 'Twas my firstborn, and how I prized it! 
 
 My darling, my treasure, my own! 
 This brain and none other devised it — 
 And now it has flown. 
 
0^ THE BEACH. 
 LINES BY A PRIVATE TUTOR. 
 
 TTTHEN" the young Augustus Edward 
 
 Has reluctantly gone bedward 
 (He's the urchin I am privileged to teach), 
 
 Erom my left-hand waistcoat pocket 
 
 I extract a battered locket 
 And I commune with it, walking on the beach. 
 
 I had often yearned for something 
 
 That would love me, e'en a dumb thing; 
 
 But such happiness seemed always out of reach : 
 Little boys are off like arrows 
 With their little spades and barrows, 
 
 When they see me bearing down upon the beach ; 
 
ON THE BEACH, 105 
 
 And although I'm rather handsome, 
 
 Tiny babes, when I would dance 'em 
 On my arm, set up so horrible a screech 
 
 That I pitch them to their nurses 
 
 With (I fear me) muttered curses. 
 And resume my lucubrations on the beach. 
 
 And the rabbits won't come nigh me, 
 
 And the gulls observe and fly me. 
 And I doubt, upon my honour, if a leech 
 
 Would stick on me as on others. 
 
 And I know if I had brothers 
 They would cut me when we met upon the beach. 
 
 So at last I bought this trinket. 
 
 Por (although I love to think it) 
 'T wasn't given me, with a pretty little speech : 
 
 !N'o ! I bought it of a pedlar, 
 
 Brown and wizened as a medlar, 
 Who was hawking odds and ends about the beach 
 
106 ON TEE BEACH, 
 
 But IVe managed, very nearly, 
 
 To believe that I was dearly 
 Loved by Somebody, who (blushing like a peach) 
 
 Plung it o'er me saying 'Wear it 
 
 For my sake'— and, I declare, it 
 Seldom strikes me that I bought it on the beach. 
 
 I can see myself revealing 
 
 Unsuspected depths of feeling, 
 As, in tones that half upbraid and half beseech, 
 
 I aver with what delight I 
 
 "Would give anything — ^my right eye — 
 For a souvenir of our stroll upon the beach. 
 
 that eye that never glistened 
 
 And that voice to which IVe listened 
 But in fancy, how I dote upon them each! 
 
 How, regardless what o'clock it 
 
 Is, I pore upon that locket. 
 Which does not contain her portrait, on the beach ! 
 
ON THE BEACE. 107 
 
 As if something were inside it 
 
 I laboriously hide it, 
 And a rather pretty sermon you might preach 
 
 Upon Fantasy, selecting 
 
 For your 'instance' the affecting 
 Tale of me and my proceedings on the beach. 
 
 I depict her, ah, how charming! 
 
 I portray myself alarming 
 Her by swearing I would ' mount the deadly breach,' 
 
 Or engage in any scrimmage 
 
 For a glimpse of her sweet image. 
 Or her shadow, or her footprint on the beach. 
 
 And I'm ever ever seeing 
 
 My imaginary Eeing, 
 And I' d rather that my marrowbones should bleach 
 
 In the winds, than that a cruel 
 
 Fate should snatch from me the jewel 
 Which I bought for one and sixpence on the beach. 
 
LOVEES, A-NJ) A EEFLECTIOIS'. 
 
 TN" moss-prankt dells wMcli the sunbeams flatter 
 (And heaven it knoweth what that may mean; 
 
 Meaning, however, is no great matter) 
 
 Where woods are a- tremble, with rifts atween; 
 
 Thro' God's own heather we wonned together, 
 I and my "Willie (0 love my love) : 
 
 I need hardly remark it was glorious weather, 
 And flitterbats wavered alow, above: 
 
 Boats were curtseying, rising, bowing, 
 (Boats in that climate are so polite,) 
 
 And sands were a ribbon of green endowing. 
 And the sundazzle on bark and bight! 
 
LOVERS, AND A REFLECTION. 109 
 
 Thro* the rare red heather we danced together, 
 (0 love my Willie!) and smelt for flowers: 
 
 I must mention again it was gorgeous weather, 
 Ehymes are so scarce in this world of ours: — 
 
 By rises that flushed with their purple favours, 
 Thro* becks that brattled o'er grasses sheen, 
 
 "We walked or waded, we two young shavers, 
 Thanking our stars we were both so green. 
 
 We journeyed in parallels, I and Willie, 
 
 In fortunate parallels! Butterflies, 
 Hid in weltering shadows of daffodilly 
 
 Or marjoram, kept making peacock eyes: 
 
 Songbirds darted about, some inky 
 
 As coal, some snowy (I ween) as curds; 
 
 Or rosy as pinks, or as roses pinky — 
 
 They reck of no eerie To-come, those birds ! 
 
110 LOVERS, AND A REFLECTION. 
 
 But they skim over bents which, the millstream 
 
 Or hang in the lift 'neath a white cloud's hem; 
 They need no parasols, no goloshes; 
 
 An:d good Mrs. Trimmer she feedeth them. 
 
 Then we thrid God's cowslips (as erst His heather) 
 That endowed the wan grass with their golden 
 blooms ; 
 
 And snapt — (it was perfectly charming weather) — 
 Our fingers at Fate and her goddess-glooms: 
 
 And "Willie 'gan sing— (0, his notes were fluty; 
 Wafts fluttered them out to the white-winged 
 sea) — 
 Something made up of rhymes that have done much 
 duty, 
 Ehymes (better to put it) of 'ancientry': 
 
LOVEESj AND A REFLECTION, 111 
 
 Bowers of flowers encounted showers 
 In William's carol — (0 love my "Willie!) 
 
 Then he bade sorrow borrow from blithe tomorrow 
 I quite forget what — say a daffodilly: 
 
 A nest in a hollow, **with buds to follow/' 
 I think occurred next in his nimble strain; 
 
 And clay that was "kneaden" of course in Eden — 
 A rhyme most novel, I do maintain: 
 
 Mists, bones, the singer himself, love-stories, 
 And all least furlable things got ''furled;" 
 
 !N'ot with any design to conceal their glories, 
 But simply and solely to rhyme with ''world." 
 
 if billows and pillows and hours and flowers, 
 And all the brave rhymes^ of an elder day, 
 
112 LOVERS, AND A REFLECTION, 
 
 Could be furled together, this genial weather, 
 
 And carted, or carried on wafts away, 
 Nor ever again trotted out — ay me ! 
 How much fewer volumes of verse there 'd be! 
 
THE COCK AND THE BULL. 
 
 "VOTJ see this pebble-stone ? It's a thing I bought 
 
 Of a bit of a chit of a boy i' the mid o' the day — 
 
 I like to dock the smaller parts-o' -speech. 
 
 As we curtail the already cur- tailed cur 
 
 (You catch the paronomasia, play o' words?) 
 
 Did, rather, i' the pre-Landseerian days. 
 
 Well, to my muttons. I purchased the concern, 
 
 And clapt it i' my poke, and gave for same 
 
 By way, to-wit, of barter or exchange — 
 
 * Chop' was my snickering dandiprat's own term — 
 
 One shilling and fourpence, current coin o' the realm. 
 
 0-n-e one and f-o-u-r four 
 
114 THE COCK AND THE BULL, 
 
 Pence, one and fourpence — you are with me, Sir ? — 
 
 What hour it skills not : ten or eleven o' the clock. 
 
 One day (and what a roaring day it was!) 
 
 In February, eighteen sixty nine, 
 
 Alexandrina Victoria, Fidei 
 
 Hm — ^hm — how runs the jargon? being on throne. 
 
 Such, sir, are all the facts, succinctly put. 
 The basis or substratum — what you will — 
 Of the impending eighty thousand lines. 
 *'Not much in 'em either," quoth perhaps simple 
 
 Hodge. 
 But there's a superstructure. Wait a bit. 
 
 Mark first the rationale of the thing : 
 
 Hear logic rivel and levigate the deed. 
 
 That shilling — and for matter o' that, the pence — 
 
 I had o' course upo' me — wi' me say — 
 
 {Mecum^s the Latin, make a note o' that) 
 
THE COCK AND THE BULL. 115 
 
 When I popped pen i' stand, blew snout, scratched 
 
 ear. 
 Sniffed — tch! — at snuffbox; tumbled up, he-heed, 
 Haw-hawed (not hee-hawed, that^s another guess 
 
 thing:) 
 Then fumbled at, and stumbled out of, door, 
 I shoved the door ope wi' my omoplat; 
 And in vestihulo, i' the entrance-hall, 
 Donned galligaskins, antigropeloes. 
 And so forth ; and, complete with hat and gloves, 
 One on and one a-dangle i' my hand, 
 And ombrifuge (Lord love you!), case o' rain, 
 I flopped forth, ^sbuddikins ! on my own ten toes, 
 (I do assure you there be ten of them,) 
 And went clump -clumping up hill and down dale 
 To find myself o' the sudden i' front o' the boy. 
 Put case I hadn't 'em on me, could I ha' bought 
 This sort-o'-kind-o'-what-you-might-call toy. 
 This pebble-thing, o' the boy-thing? Q.E. D. 
 
116 TEE COCK AND TEE BULL. 
 
 That's proven without aid from mumping Pope, 
 
 Sleek porporate or bloated Cardinal. 
 
 (Isn't it, old Fatchaps? You're in Euclid now.) 
 
 So, having the shilling — having i' fact a lot — 
 
 And pence and halfpence, ever so many o' them, 
 
 I purchased, as I think I said before. 
 
 The pebble {lapisy lapzdis, -di, -derriy -de — 
 
 What nouns 'crease short i' the genitive, Fatchaps, 
 
 eh?) 
 0' the boy, a bare-legged beggarly son of a gun, 
 For one and fourpence. Here we are again. 
 
 Now Law steps in, bigwigged, voluminous-jawed ; 
 Investigates and re-investigates. 
 "Was the transaction illegal? Law shakes head. 
 Perpend, sir, all the bearings of the case. 
 
 At first the coin was mine, the chattel his. 
 But now (by virtue of the said exchange 
 
THE COCK AND THE BULL. 117 
 
 And barter) vice versa all the coin, 
 
 Per juris operationem, vests 
 
 I' the boy and his assigns till ding o' doom; 
 
 {In scecula sceculo-o-o-orum ; 
 
 I think I hear the Abate mouth out that.) 
 
 To have and hold the same to him and them . , . 
 
 Confer some idiot on Conveyancing. 
 
 Whereas the pebble and every part thereof, 
 
 And all that appertaineth thereunto. 
 
 Or shall, will, may, might, can, could, would, or 
 
 should, 
 {Suhaudi ccetera — clap we to the close — 
 For what's the good of law in a case o' the kind) 
 Is mine to all intents and purposes. 
 This settled, I resume the thread o' the tale. 
 
 N'ow for a touch o' the vendor's quality. 
 He says a gen'hnan bought a pebble of him, 
 (This pebble i' sooth, sir, which I hold i' my hand) — 
 
118 THE COCK AND THE BULL. 
 
 And paid for't, lihe a gen'lman, on the nail. 
 'Did I overcharge him a ha'penny? Devil a bit. 
 Eiddlestick's end! Get out, you blazing ass! 
 Gabble o' the goose. Don't bugaboo-baby me ! 
 Go double or quits? Yah ! tittup ! what's the odds?' 
 — There's the transaction viewed i' the vendor's light, 
 
 Next ask that dumpled hag, stood snuffling by, 
 With her three frowsy blowsy brats o' babes, 
 The scum o' the kennel, cream o' the filth-heap — 
 
 Faugh ! 
 Aie, aie, aie, aie ! qtototototoZ^ 
 ('Stead which we blurt out Hoighty toighty now) — 
 And the baker and candlestickmaker, and Jack and 
 
 GiU, 
 Bleared Goody this and queasy Gaffer that. 
 Ask the schoolmaster. Take schoolmaster first. 
 
 He saw a gentleman purchase of a lad 
 
THE COCK AND THE BULL. 119 
 
 A stone, and pay for it rite, on the square, 
 
 And carry it off per salfum, jauntily, 
 
 Propria quce marihus, gentleman's property now 
 
 (Agreeably to the law explained above), 
 
 In proprium usum, for his private ends. 
 
 The boy he chucked a brown i' the air, and bit 
 
 I' the face the shilling : heaved a thumping stone 
 
 At a lean hen that ran cluck-clucking by, 
 
 (And hit her, dead as nail i' post o' door,) 
 
 Then ahiit — whafs the Ciceronian phrase? — 
 
 JExcessit, evasit, erupit — off slogs boy; 
 
 Off in three flea-skips. Hactenus, so far. 
 
 So good, tarn bene. Bene, satis, male, — 
 
 Where was I? who said what of one in a quag? 
 
 I did once hitch the syntax into verse: 
 
 Verhum personale, a verb personal, 
 
 Concordat — ay, 'agrees," old Fatchaps — cum 
 
 Nbminativo, with its nominative, 
 
 Genere, i' point o' gender, numero, 
 
120 TEE COCK AND THE BULL, 
 
 0' number, et persona, and person. Ut, 
 
 Instance: Sol ruit, down flops sun, et and, 
 
 Monies umhrantur, snuffs out mountains. Pah! 
 
 Excuse me, sir, I think I'm going mad. 
 
 You see the trick on't though, and can yourself 
 
 Continue the discourse ad libitum. 
 
 It takes up about eighty thousand lines, 
 
 A thing imagination boggles at: 
 
 And might, odds-bobs, sir! in judicious hands, 
 
 Extend from here to Mesopotamy. 
 
 CAMBRIDGE: — PRINTED BY J. PALMER. 
 
YCl 
 
 ^\^^