*ir / oifjer suritft THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES CM 0/ BEAU BROCADE of the English Edition. In deference to the wishes of collectors it is issued with the English imprint solely, but it is published in United States by arrangement with the author and English publishers by T>ODD, [MEAD <& COMPANY, New York. THE HA I, LAD OF BEAU BROCADE, ETC. BY THE SAME AUTHOR. OLD-WORLD IDYLLS. Eleventh Edition. 1892. AT THE SIGN OF THE LYRE. Eighth Edition. 1891. In the " Parchment Library" (Edited). EIGHTEENTH CENTURY ESSAYS. With an Intro- duction and Notes. FABLES OF MR. JOHN GAY. With a Memoir. THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. With a Preface and Notes. SELECTED POEMS OF MATTHEW PRIOR. With an Introduction and Notes. / co /fo m If c. r^ffh u THIRD EDITION. Coia (*.- TO LADY 1JONVEN. ' FOR OLD SAKK'S SAKE.' For old sake i sake ! ' ' Tu'erc hard to choo-f \\'ords fitter for an old-world Muse Than these, that in their cadence bring Faint fragrance of the posy-ring. And charms that rustic lovers use. Life's journey lengthens, and we lose The first pale flush, the morning hues, Ah ! but the back-look, lingering, For old sake's sake .' That <i'c retain. Though Time refuse To lift the veil on foi'.vard views. Despot in most, he is not Kin^ Of those kind memories that din if A round his travelled avenues I'or old sakes sake .' I'RKKATORY NOTE. Concerning f/ic eight pieces here reprinted from "Old-World Idylls" and" 'At the Sign of the Lyre," it is only necessary to say tliat tlicv have been cliosen because, being laid in the last Cen- tury, they appeared to present a congenial field for the artistic ingenuity of Mr. Hugh Thomson, who, not-withstanding the pressure of other ditties, has illustrated them icitli an ability i^hich I can only admire, a/id a personal enthusiasm for wliicli I can scarcely be sufficiently grateful. AUSTIN Doiisox. September, 1892. CONTENTS. I'AGB THE HAI.I.AD OF KEAT HROCADK i A GENTLEMAN OK THE OLD SCHOOI 23 A GENTLEWOMAN OK T1IK, Ol.l) SciKlOI 37 A DEAD LK.TTKK 47 TMK OLD SEDAN CIIAIK 59 THE LADIES OK Si. JAMES'S 65 MOLLY TKEKUSIS 71 A CHAPTER OK I-'ROISSART 79 NOTES . . 87 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. I'AGE " She once had been the rage " I-'i'ontiipiect "Turned King's evidence " 'J'o face \ Heading to poem i "Would ' club ' for a guard " To face 3 " The Oak and (.'ro\vn " 3 " Straining and creaking " 4 Courtesies of the Road 7<> face 5 " Where the best strong waters are v 6 'Sympathy, horror, and wonderment" .... Xi> face 6 " Outspoke Dolly the Chambermaid " .... .. o " George the Guard " ., 8 I leading to Part II 9 " And drums were banged " 'J'o face 10 " Saddling the gray marc " I I "Clattered away to 'Exciseman's Folly '" 15 " Came cantering into the view " 14 "Jotted her down on the spot" 'J\> face \~ The Finish of Keau Hrocade iS " Fnsign (of Hragg's) " 20 xii List of Illustrations. I' AGE " To catch the cuckoo's call " To Jace 23 Heading to poem 23 In the garden 25 In the Mall 27 " When Sweetlip swelled its jovial riot " 28 ' ' A sunny summer doze " 30 " Sorrel " 32 " She'd still her beau " To face 37 Heading to poem 37 " The warm west-looking window seat " . . . To face 41 " Delighted in his dry bon-mots " ,, 43 " The almond tree " ,, 44 " By the broken stile " ,, 47 Heading to poem 47 " Sam's two eyes are all for Cissy " To face 51 Tail piece 55 " As he lifts her out light " To face 59 Heading to poem 59 " But prone, on a question of fare " To face 61 " They frown on you for weeks ,, 65 Heading to poem 65 " And runs to gather May dew " To face 66 " Was she wooed ?" , 71 Heading to poem "i " Miss Molly Trefusis " To face 72 " 'Twas a knight of the shire " ., 74 List of Illustrations. xiii Tailpiece ("A Tuast '') " An ivy leaf for ' Orchard corner '" Heading to poem The leaf-stained chapter Tailpiece to " Notes '' THE BALLAD OF BEAU BROCADE. m ] a ^" : i W*-, i*ii\. \p. A^M ^Ai - ~ i;Vi;XTKi:X hundred and thirtv-ninc J 1 hat was the date of this tale of mine, The Ballad of " Beau Brocade" And people of rank, to correct their " tone," Went out of town to Marybone. Those were the days of the War with Spain, PORTO-BELLO would soon be ta'en ; WHITEFIELD preached to the colliers grim, Bishops in lawn sleeves preached at him ; WALPOLE talked of " a man and his price " ; Nobody's virtue was over-nice : Those, in fine, were the brave days when Coaches were stopped by ... Highwaymen ! And of all the knights of the gentle trade Nobody bolder than " BEAU BROCADE." This they knew on the whole way down ; Best, maybe, at the " Oak and Crown" The Ballad oj "Bean Brocade." 3 (For timorous cits on their pilgrimage Would "club" for a "Guard" to ride the stage; And the Guard that rode on more than one Was the Host of this hostel's sister's son.) ^SSi^tfSPM^ ^<\ f &- ^ Open \vc liere on a March-day fine, Under the oak with the hanging sign. There was Barber DICK with his basin by; Cobbler JOK with the patch on his eye; 4 T/ie Ballad of "Beau Brocade" Portly product of Beef and Beer, JOHN the host, he was standing near. Straining and creaking, with wheels awry, Lumbering came the "Plymouth Fly" ; Lumbering up from Bagshot Heath, Guard in the basket armed to the teeth ; Passengers heavily armed inside ; Not the less surely the coach had been tried 77/6' Ballad of " Beau Brocade" 5 Tried ! but a couple of miles away, By a well-dressed man ! in the open day ! Tried successfully, never a doubt, Pockets of passengers all turned out ! Cloak-bags rifled, and cushions ripped, Even an Ensign's wallet stripped ! Even a Methodist hosier's wife Offered the choice of her Money or Life ! Highwayman's manners no less polite, Hoped that their coppers (returned) were right ; - 6 The Ballad of "Beau Brocade!' Sympathy ! horror ! and wonderment ! " Catch the Villain ! " (But Nobody went.) Hosier's wife led into the Bar ; (That 's where the best strong waters are !) The Ballad of "Beau Brocade." 7 Followed the tale of the hundred-and-one Things that Somebody ought to have done. Ensign (of BRAGG'S) made a terrible clangour : But for the Ladies had drawn his hanger ! Robber, of course, was ' BEAU BROCADE " ; Out-spoke DOLLY the Chambermaid. Devonshire DOLLY, plump and red, Spoke from the gallery overhead ; Spoke it out boldly, staring hard : "Why did n't you shoot then, GEORGE the Guard?" Spoke it out bolder, seeing him mute : " GEORGE the Guard, why did n't you shoot ? '' Portly JOHN grew pale and red, (JOHN was afraid of her, people said :) 8 The Ballad of " Beau Brocade" Gasped that " DOLLY was surely cracked," (JOHN was afraid of her that 's a fact !) GEORGE the Guard grew red and pale, Slowly finished his quart of ale : " Shoot ? Why Rabbit him ! did n't he shoot ? " Muttered "The Baggage was far too 'cute !" " Shoot ? Why he 'd flashed the pan in his eye ! " Muttered " She 'd pay for it by and by ! " Further than this made no reply. Nor could a further reply be made, For GEORGE was in league with " BEAU BROCADE " ! And JOHN the Host, in his wakefullest state, Was not on the whole immaculate. But nobody's virtue was over-nice When WALPOLE talked of "a man and his price" ; The Ballad of " Beau Brocade." 9 And wherever Purity found abode, 'Twas certainly not on a posting road. " Forty" followed to "Thirty-nine.'' (ilorious days of the Hauorcr line ! Princes were horn, and drums were banged Now and then batches of Highwaymen hanged. io The Ballad of " B call, Brocade." " Glorious news ! " for the liquor trade ; Nobody dreamed of " BEAU BROCADE." People were thinking of Spanish Crowns; Money was coming from seaport towns ! Nobody dreamed of " BEAU BROCADE," (Only DOLLY the Chambermaid !) Blessings on VERNON ! Fill up the cans ; Money was coming in "flys" and "Vans." Possibly, JOHN the Host had heard ; Also, certainly, GEORGE the Guard. And DOLLY had possibly tidings, too, That made her rise from her bed anew, Plump as ever, but stern of eye, With a fixed intention to warn the "Fly." *acf c/r-<jrr\j were The Ballad of " Becui Brocade" i i Lingering only at JOHN his door, Just to make sure of a jerky snore ; Saddling the gray mare. Dumpling Star; Fetching the pistol out of tin; bar : 1 2 The Ballad of "Beau Brocade" (The old horse-pistol that, they say, Came from the battle of Malplaquet /) Loading with powder that maids would use, Even in " Forty," to clear the flues ; And a couple of silver buttons, the Squire Gave her, away in Devonshire. These she wadded for want of better With the B SH p of L ND N'S " Pastoral Letter " : Looked to the flint, and hung the whole, Ready to use, at her pocket-hole. Thus equipped and accoutred, DOLLY Clattered away to "Exciseman's Folly" ; Such was the name of a ruined abode, Just on the edge of the London road. T/ic J nil lad of " Beau Brocade. " 13 Thence she thought she might safely try, As soon as she saw it, to warn the "I'/}'." 1 4 The Ballad of " Beau Brocade. " By the light of the moon she could see him drest In his famous gold-sprigged tambour vest ; And under his silver-gray surtout, The laced, historical coat of blue, The Ballad of " Beau Brocade" i 5 That he wore when he went to London-Spaw, And robbed Sir MUNGO MUCKLKTHRAW. Out-spoke Doi. LV the Chambermaid, (Trembling a little, but not afraid,) "Stand and Deliver, O ' EKAU EROCADK' I" l!ut the EKAU rode nearer, and would not speak, For he saw by the moonlight a rosy cheek ; And a spavined mare with a rusty hide ; And a girl with her hand at her pocket-side. So never a word he spoke as yet, For he thought 'twas a freak of MKG or EKT ; A freak of the "Rose" or the "Rummer'' 1 set. Out-spoke Dou.v the Chambermaid, (Tremulous now, and sore afraid,) " Stand and 1 )eliver, O ' EKAU EKOCADK ' ! "- 1 6 The Ballad of '" Beau Brocade" Firing then, out of sheer alarm, Hit the BEAU in the bridle-arm. Button the first went none knows where, But it carried away his solitaire ; Button the second a circuit made, Glanced in under the shoulder blade ; Down from the saddle fell " BEAU BROCADE" ! Down from the saddle and never stirred ! DOLLY grew white as a Windsor curd. Slipped not less from the mare, and bound Strips of her kirtle about his wound. Then, lest his Worship should rise and flee, Fettered his ankles tenderly. Jumped on his chestnut, BET the fleet (Called after BET of Portugal Street}; The Ballad of " Beau Brocade" \ 7 Came like the wind to the old Inn-door; Roused fat JOHN from a three-fold snore; Vowed she 'd 'peach if he misbehaved . . . Briefly, the "Plymouth Fly" was saved ! Statues and Windsor were all on lire : DOI.LV was wed to a Yorkshire squire; Went to Town at the K o's desire ! But whether His M j STY saw her or not, HOC.ARTH jolted her down on the spot ; And something of DOLLY one still may trace In the fresh contours of his "Milkmaid's'''' face. (iKOR(;K the (iuard fled over the sea : JOHN had a fit of perplexity ; Turned King's evidence, sad to state : But JOHN was never immaculate, c 1 8 The Ballad of "Beau Brocade" As for the BEAU, he was duly tried, When his wound was healed, at Whitsuntide ; Served for a day as the last of " sights," To the world of St. fames' s-Street and " White's ", Went on his way to TYBURN TREE, With a pomp befitting his high degree. Every privilege rank confers : Bouquet of pinks at St. Sepulchre's ; Flagon of ale at Holborn Bar ; Friends (in mourning) to follow his Car ("t" is omitted where HEROES are !) Every one knows the speech he made ; Swore that he " rather admired the Jade ! "- Waved to the crowd with his gold-laced hat : Talked to the Chaplain after that ; The Ballad of " Beau Brocade" 19 Turned to the Topsman undismayed . . . This was the finish of " BKAU BROCADE" ! And this is the Ballad that seemed to hide In the leaves of a dusty " LONDONER'S GUIDE"; "Humbly Inscribed" (until curls and tails] By the Author to FREDERICK, Prince of WALES : "Published by FRANCIS and OLIVER PINE ; Ludgate-HiU) at the Blackmoor Sign. Seventeen-Hundred-and-Thirty-Nine? A (1KNTI.KMAN OF THE OLD SCHOOL. "X ^^^^v^l^Wivr'^v - V;t<-' ( ;u f .-- E lived in that past (Georgian day, When men were less inclined to say That "Time is Gold," and overlay With toil their pleasure ; He held some land, and dwelt thereon, Where, I forget, the house is gone : His Christian name, I think, was John, His surname, Leisure. 24 A Gentleman of the Old School. Reynolds has painted him, a face Filled with a fine, old-fashioned grace, Fresh-coloured, frank, with ne'er a trace Of trouble shaded ; The eyes are blue, the hair is drest In plainest way, one hand is prest Deep in a flapped canary vest, With buds brocaded. He wears a brown old Brunswick coat, With silver buttons, round his throat, A soft cravat ; in all you note An elder fashion, A strangeness, which, to us who shine In shapely hats, whose coats combine All harmonies of hue and line, Inspires compassion. 4 Gentleman of the Old School. 25 He lived so long ago, you see ! Men were untravelled then, but \ve, Like Ariel, post o'er land and sea With careless parting ; m^lfe^-i'^' S '> 1 He found it quite enough for him 'I'o smoke his pi[)e in ''garden trim," And watch, about the fish tank's brim The swallows darting. 26 A Gentleman of the Old School. He liked the well-wheel's creaking tongue, He liked the thrush that stopped and sung, He liked the drone of flies among His netted peaches ; He liked to watch the sunlight fall Athwart his ivied orchard wall ; Or pause to catch the cuckoo's call Beyond the beeches. His were the times of Paint and Patch, And yet no Ranelagh could match The sober doves that round his thatch Spread tails and sidled ; He liked their ruffling, puffed content, For him their drowsy wheelings meant More than a Mall of Beaux that bent, Or Belles that bridled. A Gentleman of t lie Old School. 27 Not that, in truth, when life began He shunned the flutter of the fan ; He too had maybe " pinked his man " In Beauty's quarrel : m P>ut now his "fervent youth" had flown Where lost things go : and he was grown As staid and slow-paced as his own Old hunter. Sorrel. 28 A Gentleman of the Old School. Yet still he loved the chase, and held That no composer's score excelled The merry horn, when Sweetlip swelled Its jovial riot ; A Gentleman of the Old ScJwol. 29 But most his measured words of praise- Caressed the angler's easy ways, Mis idly meditative days,-- His rustic diet. 30 A Gentleman of the Old School. Not that his " meditating " rose Beyond a sunny summer doze ; He never troubled his repose With fruitless prying ; But held, as law for high and low, What God withholds no man can know And smiled away inquiry so, Without replying. We read alas, how much we read ! The jumbled strifes of creed and creed With endless controversies feed Our groaning tables ; His books and they sufficed him were Cotton's " Montaigne," " The Grave " of Blair, A " Walton " much the worse for wear, And ".^sop's Fables." A Gentleman of the Old School. 3 1 One more, "The Bible.'' Not that he Had searched its page as deep as we ; No sophistries could make him see Its slender credit ; It may be that he could not count The sires and sons to Jesse's fount, He liked the ''Sermon on the Mount, "- And more, he read it. Once he had loved, but foiled to \ved, A red-cheeked lass \vho long was dead ; His ways were far too slow, lie said, To <mite forget her ; Ami still when time had turned him gray, The earliest hawthorn buds in May Would find his lingering feet astray, Where first he met her. ! 2 A Gentleman of the Old School, "In Ccelo Qtiies" heads the stone On Leisure's grave, now little known, A tangle of wild-rose has grown So thick across it ; The " Benefactions " still declare He left the clerk an elbow-chair, And " 12 Pence Yearly to Prepare A Christmas Posset." A Gentleman of the Old School. Lie softly, Leisure ! 1 )oubtless you. With too serene a conscience drew Your easy breath, and slumbered through The gravest issue : But we, to whom our age allows Scarce space to wipe our weary brows, Look clown upon your narrow house, Old friend, and miss you ! A (;LXTLL\VOMA\ OK THL OLD SCHOOL. HE lived in Georgian era too. !ji Most women then, if bards be true, Succumbed to Routs and Cards, or grew Devout and acid. But hers was neither fate. She came Of good west-country folk, whose fame Has faded now. For us her name Is "Madam Placid." 38 A Gentlewoman of the Old School. Patience or Prudence, what you will, Some prefix faintly fragrant still As those old musky scents that fill Our grandams' pillows And for her youthful portrait take Some long-waist child of Hudson's make, Stiffly at ease beside a lake With swans and willows. I keep her later semblance placed Beside my desk, 'tis lawned and laced, In shadowy sanguine stipple traced By Bartolozzi ; A placid face, in which surprise Is seldom seen, but yet there lies Some vestige of the laughing eyes Of arch Pio/xi. A Gentlewoman of the Old School. 39 For her e'en Time grew debonair. He, finding cheeks unclaimed of care, With late-delayed faint roses there, And lingering dimples, Had spared to touch the fair old face, And only kissed with Yauxhall grace The soft white hand that stroked her lace, Or smoothed her wimples. So left her beautiful. Her age Was comely as her youth was sage. And yet she once had been the rage : It hath been hinted. Indeed, affirmed by one or two, Some spark at Bath (as sparks will do) Inscribed a song to " Lovely Prue," Which I'rban printed. 40 A Gentleiuoman of the Old ScJiool. I know she thought ; I know she felt ; Perchance could sum, I doubt she spelt ; She knew as little of the Celt As of the Saxon ; I know she played and sang, for yet We keep the tumble-down spinet To which she quavered ballads set By Arne or Jackson. Her tastes were not refined as ours ; She liked plain food and homely flowers, Refused to paint, kept early hours, Went clad demurely ; Her art was sampler-work design, Fireworks for her were "vastly fine," Her luxury was elder-wine, She loved that "purely. 1 ' A Gentlewoman of the Old School. 41 She was renowned, traditions say, For June conserves, for curds and whey, For finest tea (she called it " tay "), And ratafia ; She knew, for sprains, what bands to choose, Could tell the sovereign wash to use For freckles, and was learned in brews As erst Medea. Vet studied little. She would read, On Sundays, " Pearson on the Creed," Though, as I think, she could not heed 1 1 is text profoundly : Seeing she chose for her retreat The warm west-looking window-seat, Where, if you chanced to raise your feet You slumbered soundlv. 42 A Gentlewoman of 'the Old School. This, 'twixt ourselves. The dear old dame, In truth, was not so much to blame ; The excellent divine I name Is scarcely stirring ; Her plain-song piety preferred Pure life to precept. If she erred, She knew her faults. Her softest word Was for the errinir. If she had loved, or if she kept Some ancient memory green, or wept Over the shoulder-knot that slept Within her cuff-box, I know not. Only this 1 know. At sixty-five she 'd still her beau, A lean French exile, lame and slow, With monstrous snuff-box. A Gentlewoman of t lie Old School. 43 Younger than she, well-born and bred. She VI found him in St. (liles', half dead Of teaching French for nightly bed And daily dinners : Starving, in fact, 'twixt want and pride : And so. henceforth, you always spied His rusty "pigeon-wings" beside Her Mechlin pinners. He worshipped her. you may suppose. She. gained him pupils, gave him clothes. Delighted in his dry bon-mots And cackling laughter : And when, at last, the long duet ( )t conversation and pic<|iiet Ceased with her death, of .sheer regret 1 le died soon alter. 44 A Gentlewoman of the Old School. Dear Madam Placid ! Others knew Your worth as well as he, and threw Their flowers upon your coffin too, I take for granted. Their loves are lost ; hut still we see Your kind and gracious memory Bloom yearly with the almond tree The Frenchman planted. A DEAD LETTER. liSratf ^,|<3f*?f ^ftP !.iWtf (rftifr 6feJS(- /cn/6ff etk si(em^\ff ye & Sat wg^--- -' i |)R1 ; .\\ it from its china tomb; It came out feebly scented With some thin ^host of past perfume That dust and davs had lent it. An old, old letter, folded still ! To read with due composure, I sought the sun-lit window-sill, Above the u'rav enclosure. 48 A Dead Letter. That glimmering in the sultry haze, Faint-flowered, dimly shaded, Slumbered like Goldsmith's Madam Blaize, Bedizened and brocaded. A queer old place ! You 'd surely say Some tea-board garden-maker Had planned it in Dutch William's day To please some florist Quaker, So trim it was. The yew-trees still, With pious care perverted, Grew in the same grim shapes ; and still The lipless dolphin spurted ; Still in his wonted state abode The broken-nosed Apollo : And still the cypress-arbour showed The same umbrageous hollow. A Dead Letter. 49 Only,- -as fresh young Beauty gleams From coffee-coloured laces, -- So peeped from its old-fashioned dreams The fresher modern traces : For idle mallet, hoop, and ball Upon the lawn were lying : A maga/ine, a tumbled shawl, Round which the swifts were flying ; And tossed beside the (Judder rose, A heap of rainbow knitting, Where, blinking in her pleased repose, A Persian cat was sitting. "A place to love in, live, for aye, If we too, like Tithonus, Could find some (Jod to stretch the gray. Scant life tin- Fates have thrown us ; r. 50 A Dead Letter. " But now by steam we run our race, With buttoned heart and pocket ; Our Love 's a gilded, surplus grace, Just like an empty locket ! " 'The time is out of joint.' Who will, May strive to make it better : For me, this warm old window-sill, And this old dusty letter." II. <l Dear John (the letter ran), it can't, can't be, For Father 's gone to Chorlcy Fair with Sam, And Mother 's storing Apples, Prue and Me Up to our Elbows making Damson Jam : But we shall meet before a Week is gone, ^'Tis a long Lane that has no Turning,' John! *-Jam'f tux. i\jtf arf aft" h:* . /^ -^ - V /JJ V A Dead Letter. 5 'Only till Sunday next, ami then you'll wait Behind the White-Thorn, by the broken Stile \Ve ran go round and catch them at the date, All to Ourselves, for nearly one long Mile ; Dear Pntc won't look, and Father he 11 go on, And Sa /it's two Kyes are all for Cissv. "'J'ohn .' '' ""jf^/in, she 's so smart, with every Ribbon new, Manic-coloured Sack, and Crimson Padesoy : As proud as proud : and has the Vapours too. fust like My Lady: calls poor So in a Boy, And vows no Sweet-heart s worth tin- Thinking-on Till lie's past Thirty ... 1 know better. ~~ft'li>i.' ' My Dear, 1 don't think that 1 thought of much Before we knew each other, I and you; And now, why, '~~folin, your least, least Hnger-touch, dives me enough to think a Summer through. 52 A Dead Letter. See, for I send you Something ! There, 'tis gone ! Look in this corner, mind you find it, John .' " ill. This was the matter of the note, - A long-forgot deposit. Dropped in an Indian dragon's throat, Deep in a fragrant closet, Piled with a dapper Dresden world,- Beaux, beauties, prayers, and poses, Bonzes with squat legs undercurled, And great jars filled with roses. Ah, heart that wrote ! Ah, lips that kissed You had no thought or presage Into what keeping you dismissed Your simple old-world message ! A Dead Letter. 53 A reverent one. Though we to-day Distrust beliefs and powers. The artless, ageless things you say Arc 1 fresh as May's own flowers. Starring some pure- primeval spring, Kre ( lold had grown despotic, Kre Life was yet a selfish thing, ( )r I ,ove a mere exotic ! I need not search too much to find Whose lot it was to send it, That feel upon me yet the kind, Soft hand of her who penned it : And sec', through two scon. 1 years ot smoke, In by-gone, quaint apparel. Shine from yon time-black Norway oak The face of Patience ('arvl. 54 A Dead Letter. The pale, smooth forehead, silver-tressed ; The gray gown, primly flowered ; The spotless, stately coif whose crest Like Hector's horse-plume towered ; And still the sweet half-solemn look Where some past thought was clinging, As when one shuts a serious book To hear the thrushes singing. I kneel to you ! Of those you were, Whose kind old hearts grow mellow, Whose fair old faces grow more fair As Point and Flanders yellow ; Whom some old store of garnered grief, Their placid temples shading, Crowns like a wreath of autumn leaf With tender tints of fading. A Dead Letter. Peace to your soul ! You died unwed Despite this loving letter. And what of John? The' less that 's said Of John, I think, the better. THE OLD SEDAN CHAIR. ^T ->t.ui(i> in thr stable-yard, iiii(k-r iht- fi\\\'^. Propped up by a broom-stick and covnvd with Iravrs : It once was tin- pride of the i^ay and the l;iir. Hut now 'tis a ruin, that old Sudan chair ! 60 The Old Sedan Chair. It is battered and tattered, it little avails That once it was lacquered, and glistened with nails ; For its leather is cracked into lozenge and square, Like a canvas by Wilkie, that old Sedan chair ! See, here came the bearing-straps ; here were the holes For the poles of the bearers when once there were poles ; It was cushioned with silk, it was wadded with hair, As the birds have discovered, that old Sedan chair ! "Where's Troy?" says the poet! Look, under the seat, Is a nest with four eggs, -'tis the favoured retreat Of the Muscovy hen, who has hatched, I dare swear, Quite an army of chicks in that old Sedan chair ! Tlic Old Sedan Chair. 61 And yet Can't yon fancy a lace in the irame Of the window, some high-headed damsel or dame, Be-patched and he-powdered, just set bv the stair. While the\' raise up the lid of that old Sedan chair? Can't you fancy Sir Plume, as beside her he stands, With his nifties a-droop on his delicate hands. With his cinnamon coat, with his laced solitaire, As he lifts her out light from that old Sedan chair? Then it swings away slowly. Ah. many a league It has trotted "twixt sturdy-legged Terence and Teague: Stout fellows ! but prone, on a question of fare. To brandish the poles of that old Sedan chair! It has waited by portals where (iarrick has played : It has waited by Heidegger's "(Irand Masquerade:" For my Lady Codille. for my Lady IScllair, It has waited and waited, that old Sedan chair ! 62 The Old Sedan Chair. Oh, the scandals it knows I Oh, the tales it could tell Of Drum and Ridotto, of Rake and of Belle, Of Cock-fight and Levee, and (scarcely more rare!) Of Fete-days at Tyburn, that old Sedan chair ! " Heu ! quantum mutata" I say as I go. It deserves better fate than a stable-yard, though ! We must furbish it up, and dispatch it, -"With Care,"- To a Fine-Art Museum that old Sedan chair ! THE LADIES OF ST. JAMES'S. Vv;*. aft; /I*-? s-'M m-M , / -^'.'K f.'Pii ^uJwFi.^-, - v S , , , --. -v - m v -? -, ^4i^ J 4& " Phyllida aino ante alias." VlRO. 'HE ladies of St. James's Go swinging to the play Their footmen run before them, With a " Stand by ! Clear the way ! " But Phyllida, my Phyllida ! She takes her buckled shoon, When we go out a-courting Beneath the harvest moon. F 66 The Ladies of St. James s. The ladies of St. James's Wear satin on their backs ; They sit all night at Ombre, With candles all of wax ; But Phyllida, my Phyllida i She dons her russet gown, And runs to gather May dew Before the world is down. The ladies of St. James's ! They are so fine and fair, You 'd think a box of essences Was broken in the air : Hut Phyllida, my Phyllida ! The breath of heath and furze, When breezes blow at morning, Is not so fresh as hers. The Ladies of St. James s. 67 The ladies of St. James's ! They 're painted to the eyes ; Their white it stays for ever, Their red it never dies : Hut Phyllida, my Phyllida ! Her colour comes and goes ; It trembles to a lily, It wavers to a rose. The ladies of St. James's ! You scarce can understand The half of all their speeches, Their phrases are so grand: Hut Phyllida, my Phyllida ! Her shy and simple words Are clear as after rain-drops The music of the birds. 68 The Ladies of St. James s. The ladies of St. James's ! They have their fits and freaks ; They smile on you for seconds, They frown on you for weeks : But Phyllida, my Phyllida ! Come either storm or shine, From Shrove-tide unto Shrove-tide, Is always true and mine. My Phyllida ! my Phyllida ! I care not though they heap The hearts of all St. James's, And give me all to keep ; I care not whose the beauties Of all the world may be, For Phyllida for Phyllida Is all the world to me ! MOLLY TREFUSIS. or , X. Vor a .Atiwe anc/ct Graff anc/'a >pnuv arc S/(dar/7rt(e fc// r/af/j/" he wrote, the old bard of an "old maga/.ine : '' As a study it not without use is, If we wonder a moment who she may have been, This same "little Molly Trefusis !" She was Cornish. \\ e know that at once by the "Tre: ' Then of guessing it scarce an abuse is If we say that where Bude bellows back to the sea Was the birthplace of Molly Trefusis. 72 Molly Trcfusis. And she lived in the era of patches and bows, Not knowing what rouge or ceruse is ; For they needed (I trust) but her natural rose, The lilies of Molly Trefusis. And I somehow connect her (I frankly admit That the evidence hard to produce is) With BATH in its hey-day of Fashion and Wit, This dangerous Molly Trefusis. I fancy her, radiant in ribbon and knot, (How charming that old-fashioned puce is !) All blooming in laces, fal-lals and what not, At the PUMP ROOM, Miss Molly Trefusis. I fancy her reigning, a Beauty, a Toast, Where BLADUD'S medicinal cruse is ; And we know that at least of one Bard it could boast,- The Court of Queen Molly Trefusis. Molly Trcfnsis. 73 He says she was " VENUS.'' I doubt it. Beside, (Vour rhymer so hopelessly loose is ! ) His "little" could scarce be to Venus applied, If fitly to Molly Trefusis. No, no. It was HKHE he had in his mind : And fresh as the handmaid of Zeus is, And rosy, and rounded, and dimpled, you '11 find, Was certainly Molly Trefusis ! Then he calls her "a MUSE." To the charge I reply That we all of us know what a Muse is ; It is something too awful, too acid, - too dry, For sunny-eyed Molly Trefusis. But " a ( JKACE.'' There I grant he was probably right ; (The rest but a verse-making ruse is) It was all that was graceful, intangible, light, The beautv of Molly Trefusis ! 74 Molly Trefusis. Was she wooed ? Who can hesitate much about that Assuredly more than obtuse is ; For how could the poet have written so pat " My dear little Molly Trefusis ! " And was wed ? That I think we must plainly infer, Since of suitors the common excuse is To take to them Wives. So it happened to her, Of course, "little Molly Trefusis !" To the Bard? Tis unlikely. Apollo, you see, In practical matters a goose is ; 'Twas a knight of the shire, and a hunting J.P., Who carried off Molly Trefusis ! And you '11 find, I conclude, in the "Gentleman's Mag." At the end, where the pick of the news is, " On the (blank), at ' the Bath] to Sir Hilary Bragg, With a Fortune, Miss MOLLY TRKFUSIS." Molly Trefusis. 75 Thereupon . . But no farther the student may pry: Love's temple is dark as Kleusis ; So here, at the threshold, we part, you and I, From "dear little Molly Trefusis.'' A CHAPTER OF FROISSART. jfn j\>\j-(taf fa don't know l-'roissart now, young folks, Tliis age, 1 think, prefers recitals Of high-spiced crime, with "slang" for jokes, And startling titles : Hut, in my time, when still some few Loved "old Montaigne," and praised Pope's Houici (Nay, thought to style him "poet" too, \\ ere scarce misnomer). 8o A Chapter of Froissart. Sir John was less ignored. Indeed, I can re-call how Some-one present (Who spoils her grandson, Frank ! ) would read, And find him pleasant ; For, by this copy, hangs a Tale. Long since, in an old house in Surrey, Where men knew more of " morning ale " Than " Lindley Murray," In a dim-lighted, whip-hung hall, 'Neath Hogarth's " Midnight Conversation," It stood ; and oft 'twixt spring and fall, With fond elation, I turned the brown old leaves. For there All through one hopeful happy summer, At such a page (I well knew where), Some secret comer, A Chapter of Froissart. 8 1 Whom I can picture, Trix, like you (Though scarcely such a colt unbroken), Would sometimes place for private view A certain token ; A rose-leaf meaning "Garden Wall," An ivy-leaf for " Orchard corner," A thorn to say, " Don't come at all,'"- Umvelcome warner ! Not that, in truth, our friends gainsaid : But then Romance required dissembling, (Ann Radcliffe taught us that !) which bred Some genuine trembling : Though, as a rule, all used to end In such kind confidential parley As may to you kind Fortune send. You long-legged Charlie, G 82 A Chapter of Froissart. When your time comes. How years slip on We had our crosses like our betters ; Fate sometimes looked askance upon Those floral letters ; And once, for three long days disdained, The dust upon the folio settled ; For some-one, in the right, was pained, And some-one nettled, That sure was in the wrong, but spake Of fixed intent and purpose stony To serve King George, enlist and make Minced-meat of " Boney," Who yet survived ten years at least. And so, when she I mean came hither One day that need for letters ceased, She brought this with her. A Chapter of Froissart. 83 Here is the leaf-stained Chapter : How The English King laid Siege to Calais ; I think Gran, knows it even now, Go ask her, Alice. NOTES. NOTES. NOTE i, PAGE 7. ''''Ensign (0/BRAGG's) made a terrible clangour.' 1 '' DESPITE its suspicious appropriateness in this case, "Bragg's" regiment of Foot-Guards really existed, and was ordered to Flanders in April, 1742 (see Gentlemads Magazine, 1742, i. 217). Porto- Bello was taken in November, 1739. But Vice-Admiral Vernon's despatches did not reach England until the following March (see Gentleman* s Magazine for 1740, i. 124, ct seq.). NOTE 3, PAGE 17. " /// the /rah contours of his ' Milkmaid's ' face." See Hogarth's Enraged Musician, an engraving of which was published in November of the following year (1741). To annotate this Ballad mure fully would be easy ; but the reader will perhaps take the details for granted. In answer to some enquiries, it may, however, be stated that there is no foundation in fact for the story. Notes. NOTE 4, PAGE 61. " To brandish the poles of that old Sedan Chair! " A friendly critic, whose versatile pen it is not easy to mistake, recalls, a-propos of the above, the following passage from Moliere, which shows that Chairmen are much the same all the world over : " i Porteur (prenant un des batons de sa chaise). Ca, payez nous vitement ! Mascarille. Quoi ? I Porteur. Je dis que je veitx avoir de V argent tout a V hcitre. Mascarille. // est raisonnal'/e, cehii-la" etc. Les Precieuses Ridicules, Sc. vii. NOTE 5, PAGE 71. MOLLY TREFUSIS. The epigram here quoted from "an old magazine" is to be found in the late Lord Neaves's admirable little volume, The Greek Anthology (Blackwood's Ancient Classics for English Readers}. Those familiar with eighteenth-century literature will recognize in the verses that follow but another echo of those lively stanzas of John Gay to " Molly Mogg of the Rose," which found so many imitators in his own day. Notes. 89 Whether my heroine is to be identified with a certain " Miss Trefusis " whose poems are sometimes to be found in the second-hand booksellers' catalogues, I know not. But if she is. I trust I have done her accomplished shade no wrong. UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY, LOS ANGELES COLLEGE LIBRARY This book is due on the last date stamped below. Book Slip-25m-7,'61(C14o7s4)4280 UCLA-College Library PR 4606 B21 1892a L 005 681 090 6 College Library PR B21 I89?a A 001 161 816 2