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Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
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 fjttp://www.archive.org/details/chapletsfromcoquOOcrawrich 
 
Chaplets 
 
 frojn 
 
 Coquet-fide; 
 
 Jm 
 
Cvx 
 
 8 
 1^ 
 
 To Cf)oma0 Wzstiaootj, Esq., 
 
 The BIBLIOGRAPHER OF ANGLING LITERATURE, 
 THJS BOOKLET 18 DEDICATED 
 
 IN FRIKNDLY MEMORIES 
 
 IttlJi fang Bm- 
 
 M842079 
 
loo Copies printed. 
 
 Price io/6. 
 
 Are to he sold by 
 
 ROBERT ROBINSON, 
 
 bewick's head, 
 
 pilgrim street, 
 
 Newcastle-on-Tyne. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 ALDUS & ZANKAR. A Legend of Holystone 
 
 Coridon's Song - - 
 
 A Lay of Rimside . . - . 
 
 Dives, Crcesus & Co. {Limited f) . - - - 
 
 5i;]^je fitttt 2:s w]?5^ 
 
 "WOBM-FlSHING ...-.- 
 
 Sour Grapes - - - - - . ■ 
 
 The Carrier's Horse. A Coquet-side fragment 
 
 Page. 
 
 - 5 
 
 15 
 
 - 17 
 19 
 
 - 20 
 2;i 
 
 - 26 
 28 
 
 Yoeick ...-.------ 3:^ 
 
 Ptramus & Thisbe, a lamentable and bloudie tragedie 
 Sighs and Groans . . . - - 
 
 The Choice of Paris. An Idyl . - - 
 
 A Christmas Conceit . - - - - 
 
 Blanche ...--- 
 
 34 
 42 
 44 
 61 
 64 
 
4 Contents. 
 
 Page. 
 The Angler's Toast --.-...-. 66 
 
 ^l.aa/f/>Vot^H<>rv , 
 
 Matin Song 
 
 In Memoriam. /jP "^^^^/W ot-&H^Y^ ^ " " ' ^^ 
 
 coquet-side - - ...... - - 72 
 
 An Angleh's Reverie - - - - - - - . - 74 
 
 0f dgssljprf^ bj^th m ^xxi^h (1496) 76 
 
 Happy Friendship - - - - - - - - - 79 
 
 The Conqueror Worm - - - - - - - - 81 
 
^^R 
 
 
 / ' • .ji^ 
 
 ^^^^?^>1^2ftl^~^ ' i 
 
 
 
 Baltius atiti %anfeaji*; 
 
 a Legend of Holystone. 
 
 ( ( iiu .n. JiiQLYSTONE, a desolate little hamlet among the hills, seven miles west 
 of Rothbury. A path leads across a meadow from the village to a little 
 grove of firs, enclosing '* Our Lady's Well," a square basin of transparent emerald 
 green water, with a copious spring. An old moss-grown statue of an ecclesiastic 
 stands on the brink, and rising from the water is a tall cross, with the 
 inscription: — "In this place Paulinus the Bishop baptized 3,000 Northumbrians, 
 Easter, DCXXVIL" It is an interesting and striking spot, and well worthy of a 
 visit. The little church stands on the site of a smaU convent for eight Benedictine 
 nuns. The remains of a stone cross still exist upon the moors between this and 
 Elsdon, which was a station of prayer for pilgrims coming to Holystone." 
 
 Murray^ s Handbook for Northumherland. ISC 4- 
 
 OD speed the good Paulinus in his holy work 
 of love, 
 God speed him and his convert flock — all blessings from above 
 
A Legend of Holystone. 
 
 Light on this earnest, godly man, and on each neophyte 
 Now thoroughly regenerate — illumed by the true light/' 
 Thus pray'd two saintly Fathers who to Holystone had come, 
 One Baldus hight, Zankar his frere — ^ par nobile fratrumf 
 Their mission heathen to convert, and heathens' souls to save, 
 By conjuring heathen bodies in the Holy well to lave. 
 With fasts and vigils shriven. Saint Baldus was a hollow 
 
 man, 
 Pious and godly, wise and grave, in sooth a very solemn 'un : 
 Zankar the like, though truth to tell, a bronzed and ruddy hue. 
 And *en hofipoinf belied the fasts he'd vowed to have kept true; 
 No matter — Rumour's blatant trump blows strange reports 
 
 about, 
 Zankar was still a godly man — he hadn't been fou7id out. 
 Full many a weary mile they'd trudged, and prodigal of heat 
 Old Sol his rays sent fiercely down — the Fathers rest to eat ; 
 Their frugal meal of simplest fare demands but scanty words. 
 The fragments gathered with great care to feed the dicky birds. 
 
A Legend of Holystone. 
 
 In holy conversation then, and meditation deep, 
 
 Some time they pass, till Baldus, worn and weary, drops 
 
 asleep ; 
 Zankar as well nods thoughtfully and slowly droops his eyes. 
 And in their turn they each become a banquet for the flies. 
 The elder Saint sleeps placidly — for Zankar there's no rest, 
 Whether his conscience or the flies, the holy man knew best ; 
 Still Baldus slept, most soundly slept — not so his wakeful frere. 
 And a most unholy, hideous stench pervades the atmosphere. 
 'Tis true no longer Baldus felt annoyance from the flies, 
 But a feeling much more horrible assail'd his nose and eyes ; 
 A pungent exhalation rose, apparent, from the ground. 
 And o'er his haggard cheeks the briny tears trickled down. 
 In horror woke the-saintly man and agonized cried out, 
 " Now sure the foul fiend walks the earth " — Zankar was near 
 
 found out ! 
 But craftily and cunningly he hides the peccant clay. 
 Ejaculating inward — " What' II Missus Grundy say r" 
 
8 A Legend of Holystone. 
 
 "Now, by the rood, "quoth Baldus, pale, "I'm sick unto the 
 death, [breath ; 
 
 The foul fiend's stench pervades my limbs and takes away my 
 'Tis well I quaff'd the crystal spring and ate unto satiety, 
 For Beelzebub a flavour now confers on our society." [voice, 
 Zankar, his conscience smiting him, then cried with trembling 
 " Don't look at me, thou holy man, in such a tone of voice." 
 Confused he was, full sore abash'd — unable long to speak, 
 " Concealment, like a worm i' the bud, preyed on his damask 
 
 cheek." 
 " Confess' d I stand before thee now a culprit " — thus he spoke — 
 " To screen thy placid countenance from flies I raised a smoke. 
 " 'Twas thus " — and from his scrip he drew a tube of virgin clay 
 Fill'd to the brim with noisome weed, the flies to drive away. 
 "To it a spark of holy fire, unwitting, I applied, [died : 
 
 With suction kept the weed alight — the pests by thousands 
 Now nay ! now nay ! thou holy man, I did it for thy good, 
 And not one single insect's left to drain thy dear heart's blood." 
 
A Legend of Holystone, 
 
 After much subtle argument and practick explanation, 
 The holy saint felt half convinced, and — tried an inhalation ; 
 Then Zankar, to complete the test, secured an errant fly, 
 And plainly proved ^^when Doctors differ patie7its surely die," 
 " Now, for thy great discovery, good Zankar, rest forgiven, 
 For ftiture ages' benefit thou of thy sins art shriven." 
 A noisome weed indeed it was, but, singular to say. 
 That many holy fathers since at flies have blazed away ! 
 With fervent mind and pious thought (their bodies rested well), 
 Proceeded now the Fathers to Our Lady's Holy Well, 
 That em'rald well by fragrant firs protected on each side, 
 Within a lovely pleasaunce, by Paulinus sanctified ; [hill, 
 
 The heathen pilgrims come in streams adown the heath-clad 
 And joyously the twain commence their mission to fulfil. 
 From early morn to dusky eve, nigh knee-deep in the wave, 
 The sacred rites administer, Northumbers' souls to save : 
 The ceremony ended, after Vespers, all disperse, 
 And the Fathers, not improperly, on world's .affairs converse. 
 
lo A Legend of Holystone. 
 
 The kindly fire now sparkles, ard the frugal board is spread, 
 Roots, eleemosyn milk and corn, with herbs and driest 
 
 breadj 
 No honied mead, no humming ale, the pious Fathers bring, 
 But temperately quench their thirst at Saint Paulinus' spring: 
 And so to rest — hail ! balmy sleep — but Baldus, rack't with 
 
 pain. 
 Lay restless on his leafy couch, to slumber tried in vain. 
 When, lo ! a cough and sneeze betrayed the fiend on earth 
 
 once more, [hour?" 
 
 Quoth Baldus, "whence proceeds that stench at this untimely 
 " You know, good Zankar, in the night no flies do buzz about. 
 The cool and chilly evening air puts all their tribes to rout ; 
 Pray, tell the cause that I may sleep — I'm pained and ill at 
 
 ease," 
 ''For mformaiion^' quoth the frere, "I'm trying't on "Ocvq fleas T 
 Then Baldus was a wrathful man, and madly tore his hair. 
 That is, he would have torn it, but, alas — he'd none to tear. 
 
A Legend of Holystone. ii 
 
 Upspringing from his rustic bed, and madly twinged with pain, 
 A horrid war dance danced — turned ill — and then lay down 
 
 again. 
 A baleful fever had set in — no skilful leech was nigh, 
 Zankar, with sorrowing look, regards the Father's glazing eye, 
 (No simples now avail his case, no roots or herbs of use). 
 He prompt puts back existence' clock to the time when he was 
 
 loose; 
 Diving again into his scrip, which stands him in good stead, 
 A curious vessel he drew forth, most cunning shaped in lead, 
 The top was fastened with a screw, and at the foot a cup, 
 The latter with its contents fill'd — Saint Baldus drank it up. 
 Then mark the change, the wholesome change, upon the 
 
 dying man. 
 His eyes 'gan twinkle, and his tongue most eloquently ran — 
 '' By thrones and dominations — by all the powers above — 
 By Jove, and all the heathen gods — by a good Christian's 
 
 love. 
 
12 A Legend of Holystone. 
 
 Repeat the dose, skilled Zankar — Oh ! fill the cup again, 
 That potent potion's soothing taste alleviates my pain — 
 Has Galen, or Hippocrates, left the foul Stygian shore ? 
 Oh ! shade of ^sculapius — fill, fill the cup once more. 
 It courses through my languid blood, I feel't in every vein," 
 And, maudlin, he held out his hand — " Oh ! fill the cup again ! 
 Fill, fill the cup — I'll drink it up, e'en though it be my death." 
 The Father took another /2^//, and gasp'd for want of breath ; 
 A rambling, ghastly pun he made, in spirit sore subdued, 
 '' Zhankar ! the vesshel ish a screw — I've drank it, and Fni 
 screwed;'' [devotion. 
 
 Awhile he slept, woke quite refresh'd — spent some time in 
 But no man to this day has learnt the compound of that potion. 
 
 [Here the manuscript has, xmfortvinately, suffered from fZam/?, and is illegible.] 
 
 oyous laugh 
 quehaugh 
 
A Legend of Holystone. 13 
 
 Baldus . . . moke . . returns 
 
 nkar . inartic'late . trdseye . hums 
 
 |0 holy vigils kept that night — they burnt no midnight 
 
 oil, 
 But Zankar and Saint Baldus slumbered — d la belle 4totle, 
 
 Cfte atoafeening anti tfte Doom. 
 
 ITH half- averted blear-eyed look, the Fathers sad 
 awoke, 
 
 Repentant of their revelry, but neither a word spoke, 
 When Saint Paulinus suddenly appeared in wrathful mood, 
 And thus addressed the peccant, yet half conscious, brother- 
 hood : — 
 " I will not aggravate your sins by recapitulation. 
 But much too light a punishment is excommunication. 
 
14 A Legend of Holystone. 
 
 Hear then your doom — first, Zankar list ! as the most erring 
 
 man, 
 That warily the unsuspecting Baldus did trepan — 
 Thy vigils as a statue keep on brink of Holy well 
 Till penitent thou hear'st the sound of convent's passing bell ; 
 Baldus for aye a troubled shade shall roam the country wide, 
 And a record keep of all events that hap oh Coquet-side." 
 Certes, no rest that shadow gets, passed daily through the 
 
 post, 
 And still a moss-grown statue marks the place of Zankar's 
 
 Ghost. 
 
Coptjon's ^ong. 
 
 " Come live with me." 
 
 OME, Maudlin, leave thy sand-red cow. 
 With garlands wreathed I'll decke thy brow 
 Through flowery meadowes let us rove, 
 Whilst I outpoure my tale of love. 
 
 All nature's gaye, the wanton lambs 
 Crave comfort from their bleating dams : 
 Then wende with me — caste care away, 
 'Tis love and nature's holy-day. 
 
 The twittering swallows round us flie, 
 The groves resounde with melodic : 
 The little birds now jocunde sing, 
 And chearful welcome bid to Spring. 
 
i6 Coridons Song. 
 
 The Cuckoo wakes his tunefull note, 
 Shrill anthems ring from laverock's throate : 
 What musicke, Lorde 's heard in thy sphere 
 When mortals such sweete descants heare r 
 
 Fair-cruel maid — scorned love is deathe, 
 My trembling fate hangs on thy breath : 
 My plainte regard with favouring eye — 
 With thee I'd live — with thee I'd die. 
 
 The rose in dudgeon vainly seeks 
 To vie the hue upon thy cheekes ; 
 Ande jealous lillies blushing glowe 
 To emulate thy breaste of snow. 
 
 My pride of life — mine hearte's desire, 
 Return this ardent bosom's fire : 
 If aught on earthe thy hearte can move, 
 " Come live with me, and be my love." 
 

 91 3Lai> of Etmsitie. 
 
 u, =|AN, Jock ! the heather crop is grand the year, 
 
 But eh ! provisions is uncommon dear." 
 (Thus Rimside Rab to Heather Jock held forth, 
 Twa muirland besom makers i' the North). 
 *' What gars ye undersell, and spoil the trade ? 
 A besom at a penny ne'er was made, 
 We baith ha'e to provide for wives and weans, 
 An' 'tween us twae we ha'e them i' the teens, 
 'Deed was't na for the lifts we've noo an' then. 
 Sec as some chancie geusse or chuckle hen. 
 Aw canna for the verra warld conceive 
 How honest families contrive to live; 
 
i8 A Lay of Rimside. 
 
 Sell at a penny ! man, it's just a sin, 
 
 The stuff coosts mair afore it's gethered in. 
 
 Thir's no the guid auld times that we ha'e seen, 
 
 The competition 's noo that awfu' keen, 
 
 There's no an honest living to be made 
 
 In besoms, pans, or ony ither trade ; 
 
 Aw steal my heather, steal my shanks an' bands. 
 
 But fairly work them wi' industrious hands. 
 
 And yet nae profit at three-ha'pence earn, 
 
 How ye sell at a penny, aw've to learn." 
 
 "Daft gowk " quo' Jock, "wark's nae pairt o' my trade, 
 
 Aw never fash't — aw steal mine ready-made." 
 
3Si\jes, Cmsus & co. (LMted?) 
 
 " Thou fool, this night thy soul shall be rec[uired of thee. Then whose 
 shall those things be which thou hast provided."— Luke xii., 20. 
 
 HAT though in life so keen and hard of heart — 
 
 All pleasures herey save love of dross, he'd stint — 
 Dives — now dead — his gold and he must part ; 
 The shroud's a garment with no pocket in't. 
 What now avails this great parade of woe ? [white, 
 
 Cloaks, hat-bands, hatchments, plumes, and kerchers 
 This hollow pomp of rtchy funereal show, 
 
 Those hireling Taourners, seemingly contrite. 
 Who, in his heart, for DiVES truly grieves ? 
 
 The mainest question oft — how goes the pelf? 
 His scatter'd god adored — in't each believes, 
 But each, expectant, 's quite absorb'd in self 
 
 For this he's eager moil'd from very birth ; 
 He cumbers now six feet of better earth. 
 
%i)t ilunt ]?s upp. 
 
 ajtf) ®a!amon0 0onge/ fapte aege ano longe 
 310 maptie &p a 0pprgte gooDe/ 
 ana 0gtf) it 10 000/ to pour Dp0porte0 goo 
 T5g 0treme or merrie greene toooti* 
 
 Cf)e S^untpr0 f)orne toafee0 uppe tbc morne/ 
 
 3nn liatofe bells 0ountie on fjpe/ 
 Cije jFoulereftatf) speD from &g0 0oirge bth; 
 DoDtr) tfie laggarD jFgssftere Ige? 
 
The Hunt ys upp. 21 
 
 Co mpn entent/ tbe 8)ontpte l)p0 ftente/ 
 
 (ffintapletf) too mocbe lafaotc : 
 mm sf)ODe anD mpteD/ clothes torne anfl tpteo 
 
 Upppes tJlgsterteti/ 0toetpnge sore. 
 
 Cben ^atobpnge too/ nopou0e al0oo/ 
 
 anD ofte rpgbte eupll a tftur^te : 
 &mz Epe or Crap/ or flpe atoape/ 
 
 Cftogfte be toftp^tel tjHe fte fiurste* 
 
 gnn mpnter colDe tfte jFoulere boioe 
 
 ^ettpt{) f)p0 spnne ano 0nare/ 
 Cbe morne-tpoe Betoe oootf) toete t)pm tftroo/ 
 
 anD 0orplp Dootf) f)e fapre. 
 
 9@oore cotooe fie 0apt)/ but bolsome Dreoe . 
 
 ©f magre mafeitf) me letie : 
 iSeoes be tbe tieste sorte of alle opsporte 
 
 Is fpssfte toptf) an ftofee to neceitie. 
 
22 The Hunt ys upp. 
 
 ifor at moo0t mape bz bvokz a Igne or an bokt/ 
 IDome magoe f)e J)atl)e plentee mote/ 
 
 %oe t{)e jFp00f)eve ftps losse 10 not greuous 
 ®pf of tcougfttes fte ftatl) gooD store. 
 
 ano merp at ease on ecfte spDe fte sees 
 
 ^eloogous fotoles of tfte apre/ 
 lawie spontaneous fte/ affectuouslp/ 
 
 ^aptf) ftps custumafile praper. 
 
 gjI3©aE— Cfte J^unt ps upp/ tfte ^unt ps upp/ 
 jFor conep or bprtie on tfte tree/ 
 aile tfte foure Dpsportes are gootie of tftepr sortes 
 IBM/ angle fpssftpnge forre me. 
 
tasaorm^fisljiug. 
 
 HE FLEE 'S BEEN SUNG IN MONY A STRAIN, 
 
 The mennum owre an' owre again 
 
 Has been the poet's theme : 
 Gentles, and pastes, and viler roe 
 Ha'e had their praises sung enow 
 In drumlie verse and stream. 
 But let us sing the worm in June, 
 Auld Coquet crystal clear, 
 All leafy Nature's now in tune, 
 Now doth true skill appear. 
 Sae moyly an' coyly 
 Steal on the gleg-e'ed trout. 
 He sees ye, an' flees ye — 
 Gif no — ye'U pick him out. 
 
24 Worm-fishing. 
 
 Just as the early, tuneful lark, 
 Dame Nature's vocal chapel-clerk, 
 Carols his hymn of praise, 
 Just as the dews frae flowers distil. 
 And air recovers frae night's chill, 
 Thro' Phoebus' slantin' rays : 
 Wi' weel-graithed gear up stream then hie, 
 • Unerring cast the lure, 
 
 The barely covered spankers lie 
 Unwatchfully secure. 
 Then lunging' an' plungin', 
 You feel the finny prize. 
 Now gantin' an' pantin' 
 Stretched on his side he dies. 
 
 Straight as a sapling fir your wand, 
 
 Mid-teens o' feet, and light to hand, 
 
 With hook of ample size, 
 
 Inserted just below the head 
 
 Of worm, well scoured and purplish red. 
 
 Like arrow sourceward flies. 
 
Worm-fishing. 25 
 
 Swift with the current see it wear, 
 Then trembling, mid-stream stay, 
 That instant, strike — my life, Jie's there, 
 At leisure creelward play. 
 Then stay there, an' play there, 
 Enjoy thy latest cast, 
 For the worm aye in turn aye 
 Will conquer a' at last. 
 
our #rapes. 
 
 UTHLESS Time with his furrowing tread, 
 (Oh ! that we mortals could bid him stay :) 
 So chills the blood and undecks the head, 
 That unsaucy young minxes e'en say us nay. 
 
 Phillida flouts me — what care I r 
 
 Shepherds still pipe and tabor play, 
 I'll list to the sound of your minstrelsy, 
 
 And dance like Old Sol upon Easter-da3\ 
 
 See Daphne pout, and Celia scorn. 
 
 Now that my locks have turned silver grey, 
 
 Think ye, ye jades, my hope's quite forlorn — 
 Alack — 't wasn't thus in my youth's hey-day 
 
Sour Grapes. 27 
 
 O'er meadows of king-cups and culverkeys 
 Trip it the live-long Summer's day, 
 
 I'll comfort my heart with mine own heart's ease 
 And think upon times that have passed away. 
 
 See my fair Chloris — (she's two score and ten) — 
 Comes brushing the dew-drops on her way ; 
 
 Maturest of maids mate with staidest of men — 
 Out ! ye young varlets — away — away ! 
 
C|)e Carrier's ^ox&t: 
 
 a' Coquet-side fragment 
 
 MALES was a Carrier — what, and where he carried 
 matters little — but Smales, being a Carrier, had a 
 cart, and, necessarily a horse. In these telegraphic 
 and railway pervading days, if Smales was not, he ought to 
 have been — at all events his horse, being sore stricken in years, 
 was — kors (Temploi ; therefore, it was not thought expedient 
 that he should longer cumber the earth, and consume its 
 pipducts. But "the veteran lagg'd superfluous on the stage," 
 and, as he wouldn't voluntarily be gathered to his fathers, it 
 was determined that he should be thither dispatched — as the 
 cookery-books have it — '• another way." 
 
 Near to Smales's domicile, in the pleasant and picturesque 
 village of Horsebury, lived Wattie Parker, the most notable 
 
The Carriers Horse. 29 
 
 fisher in the district, moreover, a keen and capital hand with 
 the gun ; he united the professions of village barber, amateur 
 gamekeeper, rod and tackle maker, and purveyor of flies for 
 such of His Majesty's lieges as were ambitious of wiling the 
 finny denizens from the pleasant and prolific waters which 
 skirted the village. Next to the Carrier's very roof-tree lived 
 old Bella Kreel, with her nephew Jimmy — a lish, keen-eyed 
 lad of some sixteen summers — strongly imbued with th^ 
 Gipsey element — nervous in speech to a degree amounting to 
 impediment when excited, and as fond of kindred sports as 
 Wat himself. One fine morning the latter sallied out, gun in 
 hand, in quest of small birds to furnish feathers for fly-dressing, 
 Smales having previously requested him to give the old horse 
 his quietus in the shape of a friendly bullet, and just as they 
 had parted, Jimmy appeared on the scene, when the following 
 conversation ensued : — 4i» 
 
 " Wh — wh — whaur ye gaun, W — Wattie, lad r" 
 
 " Ou, just to shut a few sma' birds for flees." 
 
 " Wi — wi — will ye let's gang wi' ye, lad ?" 
 
 ''Ouaye." 
 
 " H — h — hould on, then, till aw get my gun." 
 
30 The Carriers Horse. 
 
 All passed pleasantly for some time, and after Wat had 
 bagged the required quantity of game^ the pair approached 
 the field where old Dobbin was standing, utterly unconscious 
 of his impending doom, Wat having already, unknown to 
 Jimmy, provided himself with the pre-arranged bullet. Under 
 the plea of game having been scared and scarce for the last 
 half-hour or so, quoth Wat, in a nonchalant manner — 
 
 '' Man, aw wadn't care a ha'penny to shut that horse." 
 
 ''Sh — sh — shut the horse, Wattie ! sh — sh — shut the horse! 
 lad ! Maw sang, b — b — but but we we we'd a' be transported, 
 we we we'd ha'e to fl — fl — flee the country, lad ! f — f — f — flee 
 the country ! " 
 
 " Hout, man," cried Wat, " naebody '11 ken — here's at im," — 
 and sure enough poor Dobbin succumbed to the fatal bullet. 
 
 The effect on Jimmy was immediate and indescribable. 
 l^>nsternation seized him — throwing down his gun, as light- 
 ning he cleared a five-quarter wall — fled like the hot trod, 
 scouring hedges, wall, and ditches as one possessed — leaving 
 the herd of swine nowhere, and never rested till breathlessly 
 bursting open the door he rushed past Bella, and covered 
 himself with the bed clothes. Procrustes' bed to him 'd been 
 
The Carriers Horse. 31 
 
 bed of down — the Trojan horse, or Phaeton's nags as flea-bites 
 — 't was a calamity — a disaster — and nothing short of trans- 
 portation or the extreme penalty of the law presented them- 
 selves to Jimmy's perturbed imagination. 
 
 Wattie wending carelessly home, joined the party, and 
 informed the Carrier [sotto voce) his mission had been fulfilled, 
 representing at the same time Jimmy's dire consternation. 
 
 ''God bliss us," quoth Bella, "what's oor Jimmy been 
 deein r He's dune something no canny !" 
 
 " Eh, Bella," rejoined Smales, " aw no ken, but somebody's 
 gaen an' shutten maw horse ! " 
 
 " God bliss the lad ! shutten Smales's horse ! Wor Jimmy 
 shut a horse ! " 
 
 The Carrier, stick in hand, gave three tremendous raps at 
 Bella's door, asking, in an audible voice, " Is Jimmy in ?" A 
 smothered and agonized whine from beneath the bed clothes, 
 feebly ejaculated, "N — n — n — no,aw's not in; p — p — p — please 
 Sor, it w — w — wasn't me did it ! " thinking that myrmidon of 
 the law, the village constable, was already on his track. 
 
 It has been recorded on high authority that an hundred 
 grey rabbits can not make one black horse, and Smales's 
 
32 The Carriers Horse. 
 
 was a black 'un. This saw Jimmy painfully realized ; indeed, 
 if such condition could have averted the dilemma, it is certain 
 he would have found little difficulty in procuring the rabbits. 
 After some time, explanations followed ; the mystery was 
 cleared up, and a heavy load removed from the sufferer's 
 breast, but even now he looks askance, and feels uneasy when 
 any reference is made to " The CARRIER'S HORSE." 
 
Great store of impudence— oft sviall of wit, 
 In every age and clime this cap will tit. 
 
 REAT son of Momus, hail ! jingle thy cap and bell, 
 Vtve le farqeur — et^ vive la bagatelle — 
 Yorick in thee still lives — (Yorick of yore 
 Who's wont 's to " set the table on a roar :") 
 E'en cynics smile — thou melts the misanthrope, 
 Thou screaming farce ; thou Iwe kaleidoscope. 
 As in the grove the mock-bird's mimic note 
 Pleases at first — but, parrot-like by rote, 
 Grows stale apace, so thine i' the busy town 
 Soon palls — thou'st no note of thine own : 
 At thy own ribald jests thou grins and brays, 
 Winks, tongue protrudes, and gasping, fugles praise. 
 To thee on foolscap I indite this sonnet, 
 Go, change thy fool's cap for some other bonnet. 
 
il^ramus anti 'Cf)tsl)e: 
 
 a lamentable and bloudie Tragedie. 
 
 ♦ OIhU -.ita|HISBE, a beautiful Babylonian maiden, beloved by Pyramus. The 
 
 lovers, living in adjoining houses, often secretly conversed with each 
 
 otlier through an opening in the wall, as their parents would not sanction their 
 
 marriage. Once they agreed upon a rendezvous at the tomb of Ninus. Thisbe 
 
 arrived first, and while she was waiting for Pyramus, she perceived a lioness which 
 
 had just torn to pieces an ox, and took to flight. "While running she lost her 
 
 garment, which the lioness soiled with blood. In the meantime Pyramus arrived, 
 
 and finding her garment covered with blood, he imagined that she had been 
 
 murdered, and made away with himself under a mulberry tree, the fruit of which 
 
 henceforth was as red as blood. Thisbe, who afterwards found the body of her 
 
 lover, likewise killed herself.'' 
 
 Smith's Classical Dictionary. 
 
 HRONOLOGY differs oft in degree, 
 
 Be 't Greek, Turk, Hindoo, or Ashantee, 
 
Pyramus and Thisbe. 35 
 
 Mosaic, Mahometan, starkest Fijii, 
 Homeric, Chaldaean, or Heathen Chinee, 
 
 But there's one thing we're all agreed on. 
 In remotest times when the world was young, 
 When the very first rib from old Adam's side sprung, 
 In fact in all ages when poet's have sung, 
 
 Love increases by what it does feed on ; 
 With the sole exception, perhaps, of that swain 
 Who loved his young wife with such horrible main 
 That, the chronicles say, he could hardly refrain 
 
 On his honey-moon trip from eating her — 
 But e'er twelve months — not of honey-moon kind — 
 Had passed o'er their heads, he had changed his mind, 
 For Eros, we know, is uncommonly blind, 
 
 And — (she mightn't digest) — took to beating her. 
 Then fervently wished, ere in wedlock bound fast, 
 He had bolted his spouse at his wedding repast. 
 But this is all fringe — to our tale — then know 
 What happened two lovers long ages ago. 
 
36 Pyramus and Thisbe. 
 
 Aye — 
 
 Years ago, long years agone 
 
 Dwelt in the city of Babylon, 
 
 A fair brown maid with a beaming eye — 
 
 With two in fact — common destiny, 
 
 And a nose between of that Tapir form 
 
 To this day by God's chosen people worn : 
 
 Thisbe the name of this lovely " cuss," 
 
 And the very next door lived one Pyramus. 
 
 Now we know what oft haps when a strapping young blade 
 
 Lays siege to the heart of an amorous maid, 
 
 Ignoring the proverb of " two of a trade " 
 
 Their thoughts only ran on unition. 
 
 And though they both lived in precocious clime, 
 
 Like Caesar's old wife of a much later time, 
 
 They were both far beyond suspicion. 
 
 Yet love will creep in, and love will peep out, 
 
 And soon turn young lovers' hearts quite inside out, 
 
 Howe'er he may languish — howe'er she may pout. 
 
Pyramus and Thisbe. 37 
 
 In spite of all parents opposing, 
 So without further fuss, 
 All was sealed with a buss, 
 And the lusty, and loving, and loved Pyramus 
 
 Was accepted at once on proposing. 
 Now, their parents suspecting something was astir. 
 Made each of the lovers a close prisoner 
 In his and her chamber, the match to defer 
 
 As they both were too young — under twenty : 
 But, though love is a compound of vows, sighs, and swoons, 
 Turning old fools to bigger ones — young ones to spoons. 
 Singing sad serenades to the softest of tunes. 
 
 Collusive devices 't has plenty. 
 When the old folks went out for a ride or a stroll, 
 X went hammer and tongs at it, making a hole 
 Through the wall that excluded his idol of soul 
 
 From his earnest and amorous glances. 
 Then they billed and cooed snugly from morning till night. 
 And arranged pleasant interviews — oft by moonlight, 
 
38 Pyramus and Thisbe, 
 
 Defying parental authority quite — 
 
 Pleasure stolen, it's value enhances. 
 
 EARS ago, longer years agone 
 
 Than any we've hitherto touched upon 
 Semiramis builded at Babylon 
 A tomb for her good man Ninus. 
 It was at this tomb on a Summery night 
 These lovers had vowed their joint troths to plight, 
 And freely indulge in " love's purple light," 
 
 With a feeling their parents were — minus. 
 The time had been fixed (just a quarter past nine), 
 For mutual enfolding at Ninus's shrine. 
 Each to swear — " I'll be yours, if you will be mine :" 
 She was there, but found Pyramus — absent : 
 Now, whether he thought himself too superfine 
 To keep an appointment, or, whether with wine 
 He'd been overtaken, one can't now divine, 
 
 If the latter — she'd surely a cab sent. 
 
Pyramus and Thisbe. 39 
 
 Suffice it to say, Thisbe waited alone, 
 
 And was startled on hearing an agonized moan, 
 
 So whence it proceeded forthwith must be shown, 
 
 Then listen : — 
 
 Cruising along a young heifer had strayed, 
 
 A real, live heifer — (I don't mean the maid — 
 
 Though it may be with strictest propriety said. 
 
 Maids by night shouldn't stroll out alone.) 
 A lioness also was out on the prowl. 
 Having breakfasted early she felt herself " /^^W," 
 So sprang on the heifer with resonant growl 
 
 And eat her up body and bone. 
 Scared Thisbe then fled in such terrible fright, 
 (Wan and pallid her face as the palest moonlight) 
 That her raven locks, standing already upright 
 'Gan to turn, and turned on, until perfectly white, 
 Such things have been known to occur in one night, 
 
 But this happen'd the time it takes telling. 
 The beast then pursued her — away went her shawl. 
 
40 Pyramus and Thisbe. 
 
 Away went her pannier, her tunic, and all, 
 
 Her padding — her chignon — and God knows what all, 
 
 Though she got safely off with her chief corporal, 
 
 Clotho 'd not yet decreed what her fate is. 
 Then straight her pursuer began to address 
 Attention t' above scheduled items of dress. 
 Seized, and made every one in the bloodiest mess, 
 Till the chignon espying — in poignant distress 
 
 A header she took in Euphrates. 
 At length to the try sting place Pyramus came, 
 Conning over apologies — excuses lame, 
 And racking his brains to bamboozle his flame 
 
 As Jael of old cozened Sisera ; 
 But finding her garments beclotted with blood, 
 It flashed through his mind that in all likelihood 
 Some one'd slaughtered the maiden he'd tenderly wooed, 
 And his longing to join her could not be withstood, 
 So at once he made tracks for a neighbouring wood. 
 Searched, and found out a mulberry — (tree understood) 
 
Py ramus and Thisbe. 41 
 
 The fruit of which, since, has been colour of blood, 
 
 And under it let out his viscera. 
 Now, feeling she'd suffered a most grievous wrong, 
 In agony Thisbe came wailing along. 
 For, like to " Jack Robinson " — (popular song), 
 
 Dead at all, d'ye see, she'd ne'er been. 
 "When, spying her lover's cold corpse on the ground 
 With a sword run right through, sticking out of the wound, 
 One — two — three — she jumped on with a vigorous bound, 
 
 And thus ended the tragical scene. 
 
IF ^igi)S anti (J^roans* 
 
 Hector— What lacke we ? 
 
 Lacke we not the greate God's grace 
 All evil doing to displace 
 And purge our wicked, erring race ? 
 We lacke. 
 
 i^tdiXZ what we lacke ! 
 
 We lacke true faithe in all His waies, 
 Lacke well spent nights and praireful dales, 
 To avoid deceite and false displays, 
 We lacke. 
 
 gCa ! we doe lacke, 
 
 A pious, truthful, righteous hearte, 
 All vicious thoughts from us t' departe, 
 God's grace all evil deedes to thwart. 
 We lacke. 
 
Sighs and Groans 
 
 43 
 
 SilXOZ these we lacke : 
 
 Long dales of piety and nights of prayer, 
 Preparing for that daie so fay re, 
 When we caste off this world's care, 
 We lacke. 
 
%f)t Ci)oice of laris. 
 
 AKIS was the second son of Priam and Hecuba. Before his birth 
 Hecuba dreamed that she had brought forth a fire-brand, the flames 
 of which spread over the whole city. Accordingly, as soon as the 
 child was born, he was given to a shepherd, who was to expose him on Mount Ida. 
 After the lapse of five days, the shepherd, on returning to Mount Ida, found the 
 child still alive, and fed by a she-bear ; thereupon he carried the boy home and 
 brought him up with his own child, and called him Paris. When Paris had 
 grown up, he distinguished himself as a valiant defender of the flocks and 
 
 shepherds Once upon a time, when Peleus and Thetis 
 
 solemnized their nuptials, all the gods were invited to the marriage, with the 
 exception of Eris, or Strife. Enraged at her exclusion, the goddess threw a golden 
 apple among the guests, with the inscription, "To the Fairest," Thereupon 
 Juno, Venus and Minerva each claimed the apple for herself. Jupiter ordered 
 Mercury to take the goddesses to Mount Gargarus, a portion of Ida, to the 
 beautiful shepherd Paris, who was there tending his flocks, and who was to decide 
 the dispute. The goddesses accordingly appeared before him. Juno promised him 
 the sovereignty of Asia and great riches, Minerva great glory and renown in war, 
 and Venus the fairest of women for his wife. Paris decided in favour of Venus, 
 and gave her the golden apple. This judgment called forth in Juno and Minerva 
 fierce hatred against Troy. Under the protection of Venus, Paris now sailed to 
 Grreece." 
 
 Smithes Classical Dictionary. 
 
 PROLOGUE. 
 
 HEN these events occurred, King Priam's son. 
 The valiant Hector, 'd reached the age of— one ! 
 
The Choice of Paris. 45 
 
 A lone young Trojan — Hecuba, his mother, 
 
 Invoked Lucina for a little brother ; 
 
 Such invocations seldom are in vain. 
 
 And in due time the little beggar came. 
 
 (Mind, brats in verse are difficult to bear. 
 
 But, now we've got him — let's trace his career :) 
 
 That he would be a fire-brand and a Tartar 
 
 His mother 'd dreamt — then fain he'd been a daughter, 
 
 For, in her clairvoyance, she saw the boy 
 
 A conflagration raise that burnt all Troy. 
 
 To Priam Hecuba had told her dream, 
 
 And they, conjointly, hatch a wicked scheme 
 
 To rid the world of this incendious mite. 
 
 And — will-I, nill-I — put him out of sight. 
 
 Well may be asked — " What's Hecuba to him, 
 
 Or he to Hecuba r" — poor little limb ! 
 
 Well might young hopeful stare — so early done for — 
 
 And wonder what on earth he'd been begun for. 
 
46 The Choice of Paris. 
 
 Stern Priam exercised his royal sway, 
 And the doomed child was ruthless torn away 
 To meet his fate — when Hecuba, o'ercome, 
 Suggested present banishment from home 
 To some lone place where him they'd ne'er set eyes on, 
 A kindlier fate than drowning, sword, or poison. 
 " Come, Hecuba, my Queen, your feelings stifle, 
 (Seldom in those days kings stuck at a trifle ;) 
 Since putting down the brat gives so much pain, 
 We'll put him out to some kind shepherd swain, 
 Some rustic Damon who'll no doubt receive him, 
 With hints substantial that we mean to leave him." 
 Such rustic — Daemon call him — soon appeared, 
 And with the youngster quickly disappeared — 
 Away from Troy straight with his charge he hied, 
 Secured a doubtful " Patmos " on Mount Ide — 
 There left to cruel fate — nay, chill undoing, 
 But for a nice mild bear — a nappy bruin, 
 
The Choice of Paris. 47 
 
 Most fitting beast to bear the name of Beauty, 
 
 For kindly she discharged a mother's duty, 
 
 Washed, fed and dressed him — ah ! but where's the robing? 
 
 Leaves from some old edition of " Cock Robin ! " 
 
 HE shepherd, sheepish, went his weekly round — 
 And, lo ! the brat alive and kicking found ; 
 With dire amazement was well nigh struck dumb : 
 The boy goo-googled, grinned, and sucked his thumb ; 
 Clod's cruel heart relents — he takes him home. 
 And from this time adopts him as his own — 
 Gave him the name of Paris, so that none 
 Could ever know he'd farmed King Priam's son. 
 
 h^jalECK'T with straw hat, gay ribbons, crook, pipe from old 
 
 ■^"^ Pan, 
 
 He'd the peacock stage reached of each dressy young man, 
 
48 The Choice of Paris. 
 
 A stage we all pass through in life's short career, 
 When we're not apt to think ourselves " very small beer." 
 Thus he tended his flocks — studied hard in Bucolics, 
 Led a pastoral life quite away from Town's frolics — 
 (Such existence immaculate only rus yields 
 In cowslippery, lush, buttercuppery fields :) 
 Tootled on his oat-pipe with such exquisite strain 
 That we'll let him toot on till we want him again. 
 
 PLAY. 
 
 IGH jinks on Olympus — a grand gala day — 
 All the gods there assembled in brilliant array ; 
 The primary cause of this great nuptial meet is, 
 The wedding of Peleus with lovely Miss Thetis — 
 Such flaunting of ribbons — saltatory paces, 
 White grenades, orange blossoms, and Honiton laces, 
 
The Choice of Paris. 49 
 
 Such flirting, and blushing, and treading on skirts, 
 
 By gods wearing sandals and very short shirts ; 
 
 So much jigging and junketing — nectar — ambrosia — 
 
 That the happy pair (tired) 'gan to wish they were cozier ; 
 
 Apollo twang'd string'ly his tortoise shell lyre, 
 
 While Pan on his syrinx blew higher and higher, 
 
 The Muses as well formed a sweet choral crew 
 
 And in soft diapasons mild Zephyrus blew ; 
 
 The blushing bride's trousers — beg pardon — trousseau 
 
 Caused with jealousy scanty dress'd damsels t' o'erflow, 
 
 And a feeble attempt 's made herein to compress 
 
 A list of the presents prepared for " the press ": — 
 
 " Christian Years/' and Church Services, blankets, and fans, 
 
 Lace flounces, mouchoir cases, brass warming pans. 
 
 Sachets and salt-cellars, rings, lockets in swarms, 
 
 And a feather quilt cosey to keep the pair warm ; 
 
 Corals with silver bells, salvers, ormolu clocks, 
 
 ;^30, and a bundle of wee babbies' smocks. 
 
50 The Choice of Paris. 
 
 Fine rococo ornaments — knit muffatees, 
 Glove stretchers, gridirons, an ominous cheese, 
 A gilt aneroid, and some splendid lace shifts. 
 With a great many more, were, as usual, gifts. 
 
 HOST of old shoes was all ready to throw. 
 When the festive proceedings received a sad blow 
 By the sudden descent of a turbulent wife. 
 Who sent in her card — " Madame Eris, nee Strife," 
 And demanded immediate and clear explanation 
 Why she'd been excluded — had no invitation : — 
 " Vile upstarts — I'll teach you my presence to slight — 
 I'm of very old family — Daughter of Night, 
 Naught akin to your Jenkinses and nouveaux riches. 
 Who'd fain try ' Society ' manners to teach — 
 If I join not your revels then woe you betide." 
 The gods stood dumfounded, but no one replied 
 
The Choice of Paris. 51 
 
 She this tacit hint took, but, before she withdrew, 
 
 An apple of gold in the midst of them threw — 
 
 The " Apple of Discord " — of fruits hap'ly rarest, 
 
 On the rind in bold letters inscribed " To THE FAIREST." 
 
 To the front quick a bevy of goddesses rushed, 
 
 Soon their back hair all down and their crinolines crushed, 
 
 On Olympus such scrambles had never been seen 
 
 'Twixt Venus, Minerva^ and Heaven's great Queen, 
 
 When Jupiter thundered in terrible huff, 
 
 '' Pray give me the apple — enough, girls, enough — 
 
 D'ye think it's respectable this crowdie-main ? 
 
 Juno — Venus — Minerva — I pray you refrain, 
 
 Give at once up the apple — let me have it from ye, 
 
 A racket like this is fair Hades an' Tommy! 
 
 You'll bring great discredit upon my domain. 
 
 Give it up at once, Juno — you old harridan ; 
 
 It's really too bad that all miseries human 
 
 Should arise from a mixture of apple and woman. 
 
52 The Choice of Paris. 
 
 For it isn't so long since, you very well know, 
 
 Through this very same fruit Adam had such a row — 
 
 To be sure in his case there was no competition, 
 
 Whilst in ours there's no chance of an equal partition, 
 
 So I'll send you with Mercury all to Gargarus 
 
 To be bound by the final decision of Paris." 
 
 The ladies were pacified — each one agreed 
 
 That before the young shepherd her own cause would plead. 
 
 N a pleasant green slope, overshadowed by trees, 
 The three anxious goddesses wait their decrees 
 The shepherd sat stolid — majestically frowned, 
 And, as high priest oracular looked quite profound. 
 
 REAT Juno then, first by prerogative spoke. 
 And in sweet, silvered accents did Paris invoke- 
 
The Choice of Paris. 53 
 
 " Tho' I'm fat, fair and forty — great Jupiter's wife — 
 'Tis admitted I ne'er looked so well in my life, 
 And, I think, gentle shepherd, you'll also agree 
 That the eyes of all nations are centred on me. 
 I have fabulous riches — broad acres of land 
 All in my own right at my ready command ; 
 I can make or unmake — create Kaiser or King, 
 And to those who show kindness I steadily cling — 
 Think this no intimation that I'll befriend you^ 
 Tho' I now have on hand a spare kingdom or two, 
 With armies and armaments — rich mines galore, 
 Coin, jewellery, plate, and I know not what more ; 
 Just a hint, that Town Councillors I make at will. 
 And, by stretching a point, can the civic chair iill. 
 Then think, gentle Paris, before you decree, 
 What might \vdi^ if the apple should roll towards me." 
 
54 The Choice of Paris. 
 
 TILL stolid and Sphinx-like did Paris appear, 
 And tacitly hinted Athena he'd hear. 
 
 ALF smiling, half stern, to bewilder the swain, 
 Minerva commenced her harangue in this strain :- 
 " No bribe avails me as with truculent men, 
 Be't baksheesh, tip, trmk-geli, pour-botrey pot de vv/i^ 
 Leave we such for M.P.'s, and for those who seek places, 
 Hope for glory in war, great renown, mental graces ; 
 Yet no harm can arise from a quiet display 
 Of a few little things I might throw in thy way : 
 Thus — a;^3o charger thou stately might straddle. 
 With plated goods dangling each side o' the saddle — 
 Might sleep in thy uniform — always wear spurs, 
 (To salvation in plain clothes the soldier demurs), 
 Have a shiny steel scabbard, and real drawn sword. 
 Nay, e'en serve in same corps with a real live Lord, 
 
The Choice of Paris. 55 
 
 Exceeding in all respects each ' tinsel Don ' 
 
 Of our phalanx of Marses nineteen to the ton ; 
 
 And should e'er thy great mind seek relief from the wars 
 
 In an undress might lounge, smoke toothpicks and cigars, 
 
 Then last, tho' not least — be't with bated breath said — 
 
 Thou might start a small flunkey with ' such a cockade! 
 
 And in all respects look like a true son of Mars, 
 
 With the option of leaving in case of real wars. 
 
 If as eager with these as with foes thou would' st grapple, 
 
 I pr'ythee, sweet Paris, award me the apple." 
 
 HE pleased shepherd smiled with ineffable grace, 
 But none yet a clue to his judgment could trace. 
 
 HE Goddess of Love next came tripping along [on ;" 
 Like Breitmann's famed maiden "vot's got nodings 
 
56 The Choice of Paris. 
 
 Then, how Juno did frown — chaste Minerva looked glum, 
 
 While Paris he twiddled his finger and thumb. 
 
 Abstracted gazed skyward — then on the horizon, 
 
 Unobserved, peeped askance where he'd fain rest his eyes on, 
 
 Conscience stricken with qualms that he'd ever presided. 
 
 As he felt that the case was already decided. 
 
 " Aroint — shameless hussy," quoth Juno, enraged — 
 
 " Is this a fair war, so immodestly waged ? 
 
 Away from our presence — thy tunic quick don — 
 
 The court is adjourned and awaits thee anon." 
 
 Appalled by the goddess, then Venus retired, 
 
 Eftsoons reappearing — yet slightly attired ; 
 
 For addition above there was still ample room, 
 
 And her garment below left off terribly soon. 
 
 Then the charming young shepherd she wantonly eyed. 
 
 And thus spoke — in theatrical parlance — aside :■ — 
 
 " Why should old frumps like these to my dress take exception, 
 
 I'm bound they're both made up, a mass of deception ; 
 
The Choice of Paris. 57 
 
 Moreover, how can you judge any one's points 
 
 With their pepli and tunics enshrouding their joints ? 
 
 Let's have every thing real, do nothing by halves, 
 
 You might make a pin-cushion of Juno's fat calves ; 
 
 And as for Minerva's great helmet — 'tis said 
 
 She just wears it to cover a very bald head ; 
 
 They're all padding — false bosoms, false hips, and false — well, 
 
 What else they have false I'd much rather not tell ; 
 
 Fictions founded on fact or my senses belie, 
 
 Now Fm all over fact — just you nip me and try." 
 
 (This settled the shepherd.) — Then Venus aloud, 
 
 With a triumphant air looking round on the crowd : — 
 
 " No bribe do I offer — give Nature her bent. 
 
 Then choose thee a wife to thy heart's own content. 
 
 Thy life, Spring eternal last all the year round, 
 
 And no thorn in thy path save from love's pleasant wound ; 
 
 Thine no lot as on earth where youth, beauty, are sold 
 
 To some old shoddy Croesus all stinking of gold, 
 
58 The Choice of Paris. 
 
 Her heart a mere purse — she a blind devotee 
 
 To that great triune idol — that god £. s. d. 
 
 No — I swear by my chastity — by the Lord Harry — 
 
 Thou of women the fairest created shalt marry, 
 
 And with every good gift shall thy bride be endowed, 
 
 So, rely on me, Paris — IVe already vowed." 
 
 HE shepherd still smiled when he heard her begin 
 While she spoke it relaxed to a visible grin — 
 Her oration complete — yet another sweet smile ; 
 Joint permission received to consider a while ; 
 Then a very short season the session adjourned, 
 Whilst his final decision each eagerly yearned. 
 
 HE court reassembled — with simpering gaze 
 All three to the shepherd expectant eyes raise — 
 The Queen 'd fain address him, a feeler to try, 
 But the others soon crippled her " ballon d'essaiT 
 
The Choice of Paris. 59 
 
 " Do not touch Fortune's rudder — no secrets reveal, 
 "lis forbidden to speak to the ' Man at the Wheel.' " 
 A decorous silence the guests then displayed, 
 Quoth Paris : — " Your merits I've carefully weighed — 
 But I do feel so nervous — great Jove come between us — 
 My life's in your hands — and — the apple 's for Venus." 
 
 IKE evil yeast working in contracted brain, 
 Then Minerva and Juno ferment with disdain — 
 Jocund Strife hovered nigh with a pestilent yell, 
 Which tripled-tongued Cerberus echoed from hell. 
 Paralyzed was the earth, and incontinent hills 
 Quaked with fear and ran down in impetuous rills, 
 Which, as rivers rushed on sweeping all in their courses 
 Till terrified, turned and ran back to their sources. 
 The heavens were darkened — the world stood still — 
 Trees withered — rocks burrowed o'er head in each hill — 
 
6o The Choice of Paris. 
 
 Yells of fury arose in a horrible clamour 
 And o'er the earth's surface shed chaotic glamour. 
 1 he wise bird of Pallas shriek'd one death hoo ! hoo ! 
 And away to the caves of Mount Gargarus flew, 
 Whilst Juno's gay peacock collapsed his starr d tail, 
 And the mountain air rent with a hideous wail. 
 Unsafe on Mount Ida, and yearning for peace, 
 The Goddess of Love embarked forthwith for Greece, 
 Soft and prosperous gales gaily wafted her thither. 
 And the Histories say that she took Paris with her. 
 For the rest of the deeds of this " broth of a boy," 
 See your Lexicons — articles "Paris " and " Troy." 
 
91 C|)rtstmas Conceit. 
 
 T glads my heart this festive time to see 
 
 My darling children from their tasks set free ; 
 Scholastic duties shelved, while Yule-tide's glow 
 Reflects bright holly and chaste mistletoe. 
 Avaunt ! then, grammars — farewell Latin — Greek — 
 (Tongues dead enough at least for many a week:) 
 All hail ! King Christmas with thy fun and frolic, 
 The very thought of school is melancholic ; 
 Yet, just one little game this gay vacation 
 To test the progress of your education. 
 
62 A Christmas Conceit. 
 
 So each take pencil, letter-back, or slate, 
 
 And write correctly what I now dictate : — 
 
 (i ^B^m PEDLAR'S pony once had gone astray, 
 
 His colour white with haunches dapple-gray, 
 
 f£ 
 
 Unparalleled in symmetry and grace, 
 
 Agreeable to ride at any pace ; 
 
 In fact, a beast one 'd buy without a warranty, 
 
 Or put full faith in any dealer's guarantee. 
 
 His master, sore embarrassed, searched in vain, 
 
 Gauging with eye intent each hill and plain. 
 
 Joyous, at length the harassed wight espied him 
 
 In a potato field — a man astride him ; 
 
 A thievish cobbler of ignoble mien, 
 
 With face so red, no Sibyl's need, I ween, 
 
 By innuendoes, visitors to tell 
 
 That cider, whiskey, curaQoa 'd taste well 
 
 In draughts from flagon, cup, or copious basin, 
 
 If wide enough to dip his pimpled face in. 
 
 In wrath the owner dagger drew from girth 
 
 And felled the subtle wretch, appalled, to earth, 
 
A Christmas Conceit. 63 
 
 Impressing forcibly by way of apophthegm 
 The eighth commandment as he lay a top of him. 
 Fate's cruel scissors severed his life's thread — 
 With poignard stabbed, alas ! the thief lay dead ; 
 Outpoured his blood of rich carnelian hue, 
 Dyeing the earth where rose and lily grew. 
 No trace of chagrin portrayed in his face, 
 The conqueror, coolly, to its shagreen case 
 Restored his blade — then mounting his old steed 
 Sped o'er the lea rejoicing in his deed. 
 Failing to write correctly all this doggerel, 
 I fear 'twill for your tutors augur ill. 
 
 Farewell. 
 

 K 
 
 
 Blanci)e, 
 
 On receiving a birth-day present of a cup (with moustache 
 guard), figured with a large strawberry, from my young friend 
 Blanche, alias Blankets. March, 1869. 
 
 EAR and kindest, woolliest Blankets, 
 Tell me how I can you thank r — it's 
 Really very kind to send 
 A loving cup to your old friend : 
 And such a cup ! good gracious me ! 
 IVe strawberries and cream to tea 
 All the year round — no matter whether 
 Winter or Summer be the weather : 
 Besides, no more your friend you'll catch 
 Dipping and dripping his moustache, 
 
Blanche. 65 
 
 For what at first appeared a puzzle 
 Turns out to be a sort of muzzle. 
 YouVe sent it on a bleak March day, 
 But I'm a child of sunny May : 
 No matter — when my cup I see, 
 How can I think of aught but — tea. 
 Now, te in Latin 's rendered thee^ 
 And tM in French, you know, is tea^ 
 So what can a poor fellow dee^ 
 But sip his cup, and think on Thee. 
 
The following Songs, &c., with slight variations, were published 
 in the "Newcastle Fishers' Garlands. 1864." 
 
 %fit kinglet's Coast. 
 
 Tune— "The general toast." 
 
 RINK, my boys, drink to the sports o' the field, 
 
 Drink to the Gad, Gun, and Stable ; 
 i Each to it's devotee pleasure does yield, 
 Not the least the glad " 7neet " round the table. 
 Let each drink his glass 
 To his favourite Lass, 
 I hope eighty lang years they thegither may pass. 
 
The Anglers Toast. 67 
 
 How joyous to Hunters the sound o' the horn ; 
 
 To the Lads o' the Trigger the whirrin' 
 O' pheasant frae thicket, or paitrick frae corn ; 
 To the Fisher his braw brass wheel birrin' ! 
 Chorus again, 
 We agree i' the main, 
 Sae rattle the rafters till a,' ring again. 
 
 Ilk brither's accorded his favoured pursuit ; 
 
 Success to his honest endeavour, 
 Be't hunting, or shooting, or heuking a trout, 
 The sports of auld England for ever ! 
 For Ntmrod, hurrah ! 
 Ramrod an' a' ! 
 Langrod an' red heckle can fettle them a'. 
 
 Tally ho ! then. Old Towler, see how Reynard flies, 
 
 To ho ! Ponto — down charge — be steady ! 
 '-''I have htnif' quoth Langrod — and Troutie sure dies, 
 Our watchword in every sport 's — ready. 
 Your glasses then fill, 
 And bumpers we'll swill ; 
 Let each follow his bent wi' a hearty good will. 
 
68 The Anglers Toast. 
 
 Coquet-side's been the scene of our aft joyous meet ; 
 
 Time ne'er can it's memories sever, 
 Frae Warkworth to Barraburn' s lanely retreat, 
 The Coquet for aye an' for ever ! 
 Weldon's auld Ha ! 
 Felton an' a,' 
 Rcthbury, Hepple, an' bonnie Woodha'. 
 
 May our hearts be o' happiness full as our creels, 
 
 As our journey through life it will sweeten, 
 Ane toast 'fore we part — fill a bumper — nae heels y 
 And — here's to " our next merrie meetin'." 
 Chorus again — 
 We agree i' the main, 
 ^ An' — now it is time we were " toddlin' hame." 
 
JMatin ^ong. 
 
 Tune — "Pack, clouds, away. 
 
 RISE ! love, rise ! 
 
 Ope thy sweet eyes 
 And hear a constant Lover ; 
 How fair thou art 
 Let this poor heart 
 To thy chaste breast discover. 
 
 The Sun is up ; 
 
 Each flow'ret's cup 
 With dew is overflowing ; 
 
 The sportive Lambs 
 
 Play by their dams, 
 And Kye in meadows lowing. 
 
 The tinkling rills 
 Thro' heath-clad hills 
 Their way to Ocean burrow ; 
 
70 Matin Song. 
 
 Birds on each spray- 
 Bid welcome day, 
 And hail this sweet May morrow. 
 
 The Summer Sun 
 
 Earth's love has won 
 Thus early this fair morning, 
 
 Why should my Fair, 
 
 Gay, debonair, 
 Lie Somnus' bow'rs adorning ? 
 
 Sweet Sweeting, wake. 
 
 That joy partake 
 All Nature else enchanting ; 
 
 The cooing dove 
 
 Now greets his Love, 
 And mine alone is wanting. 
 
Sti iHemojciam. 
 
 LEST be thy memory, Father of Anglers, 
 Ne'er shall it perish whilst we can throw line ; 
 Aloof from our ranks keep all scoffers and wranglers. 
 
 May no worthless pilgrim e'er sully thy shrine. 
 Green grow the grass o'er thy last silent resting-place. 
 
 Peace to thy ashes — we honour thy name ; 
 Long since thou'st reached the good Christian's trysting-place, 
 Here thou'st a niche in the Temple of Fame. 
 
Coquet sitie* 
 
 Tune— "The Howes o' Gleiiorchie. 
 
 HE Sun's gowden orb now dispels morning mists, 
 And gaily the laverock lilts i' the sky ; 
 The crood o' the cushats the chorus assists, 
 Whilst the bees frae the brume to wild heather-bells fly ; 
 The throstle now whustles frae bonnie birk-tree, 
 
 And dew-beads are drappin' frae ilka green bush, 
 The vi'lets and gowans that sprent every brae 
 
 Wi' perfumes the sweet Simmer morn's air suffuse. 
 
 The wee lammies sport by the side o' the yowes, 
 
 And o'er the lush meadows the croonin' kye stray, 
 Bright Phoebus wi' gowd paints the braes, fells, and knowes, 
 
 And sweet blushing briar-buds welcome the day ; 
 The wastlin' wind soughs through the saft waving corn, 
 
 And draps frae the hedges the wat blobs o' dew, 
 Where e'er turns the Angler, sweet flow'rets adorn 
 
 His path — ilka steps rural pleasures accrue. 
 
Coquet-side. 73 
 
 The clear, wimplin' burnie rows on its fair course 
 
 " Enchanting his soul wi' its sweet melodie ;" 
 On ilka side Nature wi' him holds discourse, 
 
 And frae a' warldly cares feels his conscience is free ; 
 The fox-gloves and gowden whuns bow to the breeze, 
 
 And wild roses wantonly try to ensnare 
 Wi' their sweet-scented May-buds th' wandering bees, 
 
 And hawthorn's snaw-blossoms perfume the sweet air. 
 
 The twittering ouzel frae stane to stane flits, 
 
 Wi' his dusky gray jacket and snawy white throat ; 
 The hern-seugh his eyrie for scaly fry quits. 
 
 And ilk feather'd chorister tunes up his note ; 
 What joys, then, around us on ilka side seen, 
 
 And wha wadna' follow this charming pursuit ; 
 He that cares na to worship auld Nature's fair Queen 
 
 May aye be weel pleased wi' a creelfu' o' trout. 
 
9in ^ingler's l^eberte. 
 
 AIR — "Come live with me, &c. 
 
 OW pleasante on a sweet Spring morne, 
 When dew drops linger on the thorne, 
 When primrose banks, and honied bowers, 
 Are kiss'd by sweetest April showers. 
 
 Through flow'ry meades to wende our way, 
 When sunrise welcomes the sweete daie, 
 At chrystal brooks our thirste t' assuage. 
 And worship God through Nature's page. 
 
 With angle rod and lightsome hearte, 
 Our conscience cleare, we gay departe. 
 To pebbly brooks and purling streams ; 
 No canker'd care disturbs our dreames. 
 
An Anglers Reverie. 75 
 
 Oh ! surely virtuous must be 
 That crafte, where Nature mirrors Thee ; 
 On every side we see Thy power, 
 From craggy rocke to simple flower. 
 
 Whilst under shady sycamore, 
 Regardless of each fleeting houre, 
 Some deare friend's converse we enjoy, 
 Our earthlie bliss has no alloye. 
 
 From Summer sun's oppressive heate, 
 From worldlie cares a short retreate, 
 Indulging freely in vain dreames, 
 Of Halcyon daies by murm'ring streams 
 
(Bl jT62il)?ttge \D^tl) an ^ngle. 1496. 
 
 jFl^ontpnge/^atolipnge/jFatolpngc/jFpssftgnge/ 
 
 (JBct)e mage ben gooDe offe ittes 0orte/ 
 TButte tl)e latterte onlje top00f)pnge/ 
 laje e0cl)etxie alle otfterte 0pootte- 
 
 jFot ^ontctte0 toollie t&e l)ountie0 0tpHe folotoe/ 
 
 aajf)gcf) lat)otpou0 10 to U0/ 
 TBlg0terreti Ipppe0 toptfte TBugel bolotoe/ 
 
 jFul 0ote stoettpnge/ in a fu00e» 
 
Of Fysshynge wyth an Angle. 77 
 
 lE)atoftpnge semptt) nopous toe w/ 
 
 (©amc ann Dgeporte often goon/ 
 22lt)p5tpll ofte 0tglle [)atofee0 escftetoe U0/ 
 
 CpHe togtbe tbirste toe are rggbte noon. 
 
 jFoulpnge semptb me moo0te 0pmppl/ 
 ©reuou0 t()ogf)e/ jnne toener coioe/ 
 
 ajHptbe stancbe Douftlette ant) clo^e topmppll 
 ©penptf) foottfte tf)e jFoulere ftoioe* 
 
 il3one offe tftepme a mertie spprgte/ 
 atte oute Dgspoottes mage jncutte/ 
 
 Ct)ogl)e ecfee Iu0te mate ftatie a metitte/ 
 angle fg00l)pnge toe preferre^ 
 
 ©tberte fp00f)pnge0 tocte ano gteuou0/ 
 
 Cau0e offe grete )nfgtmptee0/ 
 jFuUe toete anD colDe I0 apte to le»e m/ 
 
 ^utte f)ofee anDe Ipne fig tJ)g00e canne le0e. 
 
78 Of Fysshynge wyth an Angle. 
 
 ©toeteste satioure offe metie floures/ 
 ^olsom toalfee onne ®ommere0 morne/ 
 
 9@eloDpou0 fotoles grete erlg f)oure0/ 
 ©toeterre farre tftan l^onterres ftorne, 
 
 Crulie/ to mp fieste Dpsctecpon/ 
 
 jFp00f)gng:e dene alle Dp0pootte0 Ipcfees 
 
 ^ince tf)e pete o^ tftpncarnacpon. 
 (CI0.CCCC.L.XXXX.VI.) 
 
''ilappp jFrientisl)tp." 
 
 Tune-" Happy Friendship. 
 
 RIEN'S, we've fish'd a' day thegither, 
 Where's three better-hearted chiels ? 
 Some like streams, and some the heather, 
 Sport to a', we've filled our creels. 
 
 Envy 's na found at our table, 
 
 Joyous we thegither clan, 
 Drink the Gad, the Gun, the Stable : 
 
 Let each brither be a man. 
 
 See us smiling a' guid nature, 
 
 Canker'd care's no us amang, 
 Joy depicted on each feature, 
 
 Still mair happy by this sang. 
 
 Now we'll sing the Hunter's pleasure. 
 Now we'll toast the Dog and Gun, 
 
 Each his fav'rite sport may treasure, 
 Luck to a', — our day's work 's done. 
 
8o Happy Friendship, 
 
 May Nimrods aye find foxes plenty, 
 
 And ha'e mony a pleasant run ; 
 Muir-fowl, may the dogs aft scent ye : 
 
 Sport for man wi' dog and gun. 
 
 Why should envious feelings haunt us r 
 
 Adverse pleasures a' agree ; 
 What care we gin Toonsmen taunt us r 
 
 Kintra sports are fair and free. 
 
 Though we care na hounds to follow, 
 Muircocks care we na to spring ; 
 
 Yet we haud him a guid fellow 
 That can cheerie a' sports sing. 
 
 Noo, frien's, join we a' in Chorus, 
 
 Let a' sportsmen brithers be ; 
 Meikle sport we hope 's afore us, 
 
 Be't what may we'll aye agree. 
 
 Chorus — Frien's, &c. 
 
Clje Conqueror IBKorm, 
 
 E may sing o' red heckles an' May-flees forby, 
 Your lang casts and fine, i' the spring ; 
 But a bonnie red worm, i' bright June let me try, 
 And to bank fast the trouties I'll bring. 
 
 Then here^s to the blue-head and honnie red worm. 
 
 Not forgetting the mennum sae bright ; 
 TaM the twa i' their turn, wi' fine tackle an firviy 
 ril count theflee-fisher at nicht. 
 
 I care na to ha'e owre limmer a gad, 
 
 I care na to ha'e meikle line, 
 Yet still to my creel weight and number I'll add, 
 
 Though I fling but ane out at a time. 
 
82 The Conqueror Worm. 
 
 A fifteen-fit rod, stiff out till the top joint. 
 
 Is the weapon I fainest wad yield ; 
 But aye mak' it fine as ye near the point, 
 
 And lightsome to hand in its build. 
 
 Awa' wi' your fishers doon stream wi' lang line, 
 When the streamlets are drumlie an' drear ; 
 
 An Angler's skill 's shown when the water is fine. 
 In sweet June, when she's glassy and clear. 
 
 Up ! up ! wi' the worm, ahint stanes, under braes, 
 Wi' little mair line than your gad, ' 
 
 . And the trouties '11 find that their deadliest faes 
 Are na May-flees, red heckles, or cad. 
 
 The flee 's aft been sung, an' its virtues extoll'd. 
 
 For filling a creel wi' sma' fry ; 
 But after this sang, gentle fisher, mak' bold 
 
 The red-worm in Simmer to try. 
 
The Conqueror Worm. 83 
 
 We've emptied our flasks tho* we've aye fill'd our creels, 
 
 And now for a nicht's sweet repose ; 
 Up early the morning, and at them like de'ils, 
 
 For to-morrow our campaign must close. 
 
 We've sung a good song, and imbibed quantum suff., 
 
 And empty the bottle o' wine is ; 
 'Tis as guid as a feast, the auld saw says, enough ; 
 
 Sae now, Brither Fishermen — 
 
 FINIS. 
 

 »^SafvJi&£Iib::Sl^ 
 
 M. & M. W. LAMBERT, NEVVCASTLE-ON-TYNE. 
 
LOAN ftTi»^**°^ 
 
 NOV 8 19?1 
 
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