PARSONS DROUS PQes •V, iRY t , F ^» --> € mmmmm ,^ «>»i&Mfi^A-:--v*'^^»>^ ...^>V^»/^»i «^^°^>°^^»^^'»«'''^''^'^^ UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA AT LOS ANGELES yi^VhvK^li:^ of CALIFOKMlA LOS r4.^GELES >J , a Morbsi of Blames; parton. Life of Benjamin Franklin. With Portraits. 2 vols. 8vo, gilt top, I5.00. Life of Thomas Jefferson. With Portrait. 8vo, gilt top, $2.50. Life of Aaron Burr. With Portraits of Burr and Theodosia. 2 vols. 8vo, gilt top, $5.00. Life of Andrew Jackson. With Portraits. 3 vols. 8vo, gilt top, $7.50. Life of Horace Greeley. With Portrait and Illustrations. 8vo, gilt top, $2.50. General Butler in New Orleans. With Portraits and Maps. 8vo, gilt top, S!2.5o. Famous Americans of Recent Times. 8vo, gilt top, $2.50. Life of Voltaire. With two Portraits, Illustrations, and Fac-simile. 2 vols. 8vo, gilt top, $6.00; half calf, ;J 10.00. Smoking and Drinking, ibmo, $t.oo\ paper covers, 50 cents. Captains of Industry. Men of Business who did Something besides make Money. With Portraits. i2mo, $1.25. Humorous Poetry of the English Language. With Notes and Portraits. Household Edition. i2mo, )?i.75 ; full gilt, jt2. 00. The French Parnassus. With Prefatory' Essay, and Brief Biograph- ical Notes. House/told Edi/ ion. i2mo, ^1.75 ; half calf, $3.00; mo- rocco, $4.50. Holiday Edition. With a Portrait of Victor Hugo. Crown 8vo, gilt top. $3-50- *#* For sale by all Booksellers. Sent, post-paid, on receipt of price by the P-ublishers, HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY, 4 Park Street, Boston, Mass. / Ci/l/ujui J cJt o ^ * * •> » • • •!>•« ,. >> ,1 THE HUMOROUS POETRY OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE, FROM CHAUCER TO SAKE. NARRATIVES, SATIRES, ENIGMAS, BURLESQUES, PARODIES, TRAVESTIES, EPIGRAMS, EPITAPHS, TRANSLATIONS, IN- CLUDING THE MOST CELEBRATED COMIC POEMS OF THE ANTI-JACOBIN, REJECTED ADDRESSES, THE INGOLDSBY LEGENDS, BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZINE, BENTLEY'S MISCELLANY, AND PUNCH. WITH MORE THAN TWO HUNDRED EPIGRAMS, AND THE CHOI- CEST HUMOROUS POETRY OF WOLCOTT, COWPER, LAMB, THACKERAY, PRAED, SWIFT, SCOTT, HOLMES, AY- TOUN, GAY, BURNS, SOUTHEY, SAXE, HOOD, PRIOR, COLERIDGE, BYRON, MOORE, LOWELL, ETC. WITH NOTES, EXPLANATORY AND BIOGRAPHICAL, By JAMES PARTON. BOSTON AND NEW YORK ! HOUGHTON, IMIFFLIN AND COMPANY. 1886. -153020 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1856, by MASON BROTHERS, In the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the Southern District of New York. Copyright, 1884, Bt JAMES PARTON. All rights reserved. PREFACE. O The design of the projector of this volume was, that it should contain the Best of the shorter humorous poems in the literatures ' of England and the United States, except : Poems so local or cotemporary in subject or allusion, as not to be readily understood by the modern American reader ; Poems which, from the freedom of expression allowed in the -? healthy ages, can not now be read aloud in a company of men , and women ; ^-i Poems that have become perfectly familiar to every body, from ^ their incessant reproduction in school-books and newspapers ; and 'z^ Poems by hving American authors, who have collected their ^numerous pieces from the periodicals in which most of them " originally appeared, and given them to the world in their own I names. 0.' Holmes, Saxe, and Lowell are, therefore, only repi-esented in othis collection. To have done more than fairly represent them, "had been to infringe rights which are doubly sacred, because they are not protected by law. To have done less would have dejirived the reader of a most convenient means of observing that, in a kind of composition confessed to be among the most difficult, our native wits are not excelled by foreign. The editor expected to be embarrassed with a profusion of material for his purpose. But, on a survey of the poetical litera- ture of the two countries, it was discovered that, of reaUy excel- 'ent humorous poetry, of the kinds universally interesting, un- Vr PREFACE. tainted by obscenity, not marred by coarseneys of language, nor obscured by remote allusion, the quantity in existence is not great It is thought that tliis volume contains a very large pro- portion of the best pieces that have appeared. An unexpected feature of the book is, that there is not a line in it by a female hand. The alleged tides of the Fair have given occasion to Ubraries of cosaic verse; jet, with dUigent search, no humorous poems by women have been found which are of merit sufficient to give them claim to a place in a collec- tion like this. That lively wit and graceful gayety, that quick perception of the absurd, which ladies are continually displaying in their conversation an 1 correspondence, never, it seems, sug- gest the successful epigram, or inspire happy satirical verse. The reader will not be annoyed by an impertinent superfluity of notes. At the end of the volume may be found a list of the sources from which its contents have been taken. For the conve- nience of those who live remote from biographical dictionaries, a few dates and other particulars have been added to the mention of each name. For valuable contributions to this portion of the volume, and for much well-directed work upon other parts of it, the reader is indebted to Mr. T. Butler Gunn, of this city. There is, certainly, nothing more delightful than the fun of a man of genius. Humor, as Mr. Thackeray observes, is charming, and poetry is charming, but the blending of the two in the same composition is irresistible. There is much nonsense in this book, and some folly, and a little ill-nature ; but there is more wisdom than either. They who possess it may congratailate themselves npon having the large-t collec^'on ''ver made of *he sportive effu- nions "if j^eniur- INDEX. MISCELLANEOUS. snmrEOT. attthob. PAa» To my Empty Purse Chaucer .... 21 To Chloe Peter Pindar . . 21 To a Fly " ... 22 Man may be Happy " ... 24 Address to the Toothache. Burns 25 The Pig Southey .... 26 Snuff " 28 Farewell to Tobacco Lamb 29 Written after swimming from Sestos to Aby- dos Byron 33 The Lisbon Packet " 34 To Fanny Moore 36 Young Jessie " 37 Rings and Seals " 38 Nets and Cages " 39 Salad Sydney Smith . . 40 My Letters Barham .... 41 The Poplar " 44 Spring Hood 45 Ode on a Distant Prospect of Clapham Acad- emy " 46 Schools and School-fellows Praed 50 The Vicar " 52 The Bachelor's Cane-bottomed Chair . . . Thackeray .... 54 Stanzas to Pale Ale Punch 56 Children must be paid for " 57 The Musquito Bryani 58 To the Lady in the Chemisette with Black Buttons WiUis 60 Come out, Lore " 62 The White Chip Hat " 63 S"ou know if it was you " 64 The Declaration '• 64 VI INDEX. SUBJSOT. ^ITTHOB. Love in a Cottage WiJMs . . . To Helen in a Huff "... The Height of the Ridiculous 0. W. Holmes The Briefless Barrister J. G. Saxe , Sonnet to a Clam " Venus of the Needle ARingham . PAoa . 66 . 66 . 67 , 68 . 69 no NARRATIVE. Take thy Old Cloak about thee Percy Reliques King John and the Abbot " The Baffled Knight, or Lady's Policy ... " Truth and Falsehood Prior . . . Flattery Williams {Sir C. The Pig and Magpie Peter Pindar Advice to Young "Women. " Economy . . .' " The Country Lasses. " The Pilgrims and Peas. " On the Death of a Favorite Cat. .... Gray . The Retired Cat Conner Saying, not Meaning Wake . Julia. Coleridge A Cock and Hen Story Southey The Search after Happiness Scott {Sir W.) The Donkey and his Panniers Moore . Misadventure at Margate Barham The Ghost " A Lay of St. Grengulphus " Sir Rupert the Fearless " Look at the Clock " The Bagman's Dog " Dame Fredegonde W. Aytoun The King of Brentford's Testament . . . Thackeray Titmarsh's Carmen Lillienses " . . Shadows • . Lantern . The Retort G. P. Morris R) T6 11 80 86 8t . 89 . 90 . 91 . 93 . 95 . 91 . 99 . 102 . 104 . 105 . 115 . 124 . 125 . 129 . 136 . 146 , 156 . 164 . 181 . 184 . 191 . 194 . 196 SATIRICAL. The Rabble, or Who Pays ? S. BuOer . The Chameleon Prior . . The Merry Andrew " . . Jaok and Joan ".. 199 200 201 202 INDEX. VU BUBJBOK The Progress of Poetiy Twelve Articles The Beafit's Confession. A New Simile for the Ladies On a Lap-dog. The Razor Seller. The Sailor Boy at Prayers Bienseance Blings and Courtiers Praying for Rain Apology for Kings Ode to the Devil The King of Spain and the Horse .... The Tender Husband The Soldier and the Virgin Mary .... A King of France and the Fair Lady. . . The Eggs The Ass and his Master The Love of the "World Reproved, or HypoC' risy Detected Report of an Adjudged Case Holy "Willie's Prayer Epitaph on Holy "Willie Address to the DeiL The Devil's "Walk on Earth Church and State Lying The Millennium The Little Grand Lama Eternal London On Factotum Ned Letters (Fudge Correspondence), First Letter " " Second " II u Third " AUTHOB. Smfl . . Sheridan {Dr. Gay . Peter Pindar a II II II II II II II II II Yriarte Ckmper II Bwms II Souihey Moore II II II II II II II The Literary Lady . . . , Netley Abbey. . . . . , Family Poetry The Sunday Question . . Ode to Rae "Wilson, Esquire . Death's Ramble .... The Bachelor's Dream . . On Samuel Rogers . . . , \Lj Partner , The Belle of tl\e Ball . . , Sheridan Barham II Hood Byron Praed {B. T.) B.] PAGS . 204 . 205 . 206 . 212 . 215 . 216 . 217 . 218 . 220 . 222 , 223 . 226 . 231 . 233 . 236 . 238 . 239 . 241 . 241 . 242 . 243 . 246 . 247 . 250 . 259 . 260 . 261 . 263 . 266 . 267 . 269 . 273 . 276 . 281 . 282 . 287 . 289 . 294 . 307 . 309 . 311 . 313 . 316 Vlll INDEX. SXrBJEOT. AUTHOB. Sorrows of "Werther. ... ~. ... . Thackeray The Yankee Volunteer " Courtship and Matrimony. " Concerning Sisters-in-law Punch The Lobstera " To Song Birds on a Sunday " The First Sensible Valentine " A Scene on the Austrian Frontier .... " Ode to the Great Sea Serpent " The Feast of Vegetables and the Flow of Wa- ter " Kindred Quacks " The Railway Traveler's Farewell to his Fam- ily. A Letter and an Answer " Papa to his Heir " Selling off at the Opera-house " Wonders of the Victorian Age " To the Portrait of a Gentleman Solmes My Aunt " Comic Miseries Saxe . Idees Napoleoniennes Aytoun The Lay of the Lover's Friend " PAOB . 31S . 319 . 321 . 322 . 324 . 324 . 325 . 327 . 328 . 330 . 331 . 333 . 334 . 336 . 338 . 339 . 340 . 342 . 343 . 345 . 347 PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. Wine Gay . . . Ode on Science Swift . . . A Love Song " . . . Baucis and Philemon " . . , A Description of a City Shower " . . . The Progress of Curiosity Pindar . . The Author and the Statesman Fielding . . The Friend of Humanity and the Knife-Grind- er Anii-Jacobin Inscription. " Song Canning . . The Amatory Sonnets of Abel Shufflebottom Southey 350 358 359 360 365 367 382 384 386 387 1. Delia at Play 388 2. The Poet proves the existence of a Soul from his Love for Delia 389 3. The Poet expresses his feehngs respect- ing a Portrait in Delia's Parlor 389 INDEX. IX SDBJEOr. AUTHOB. PAQB The Love Elegies of Abel Shufflebottom . . Southey 1. The Poet relates how he obtained De- lia's Pocket-handkerchief 390 2. The Poet expatiates on the Beauty of De- lia's Hau- 391 3. The Poet relates how he stole a lock of DeUa's Hair, and her anger 392 The Baby's DebClt James Smith . . 393 Playhouse Musings " . . 39G A Tale of Drury Lane Horace Smith . . 402 Drury's Dirge " . . 408 What is Life? Blackwood . . . 410 lYagments " ... 412 The Confession " ... 414 The Mill ing Match between Entellus and Dares Moore 41 5 Not a Sous had he Got Barham .... 417 Raising the Devil " .... 418 The London University " .... 419 Domestic Poems Hood 1. Good-night 422 2. A Parental Ode to my Son 423 3. A Serenade 425 Ode to Perry " 426 The Secret Sorrow Song for Punch-drinkers The Song of the Humbugged Husband , Temperance Song Lines Madness The Bandit's Fate Lines written after a Battle . . . , , The Phrenologist to his Mistress . . The Chemist to his Love A Ballad of Bedlam , Stanzas to an Egg A Fragment Eating Soup , The Sick Child , The Lnaginative Crisis , Lines to Bessy Monody on the Death f f an Onlf Client Love on the Ocean .... CruikshanKs Om. . 431 Punch. . . . . 432 it . 433 K . 433 « . 434 1( . 435 (1 . 435 U . 436 (1 . 437 11 . 437 u . 438 (1 . 439 (( . 439 l( . 440 i( . 440 (t . 441 (1 . 441 11 . 442 11 . 443 " . . . 444 INDEX SITBJEOT. "Oh I wilt thou Sew my Buttons on? etc.". The Paid Bill Parody for a Reformed Parliament . . . The Waiter The Last Appendix to Yankee Doodle . . Lmes for Music Drama for Every Day Life Proclivior Jones at the Barber's Shop The Sated One Sapphics of the Cab-stand Justice to Scotland The Poetical Cookery-book. The Steak Roasted Sucking Pig Beignet de Pomme Cherry Pie Deviled Biscuit Red Herrings Irish Stew Barley Broth Calf's Heart The Christmas Pudding Apple Pie Lobster Salad Stewed Steak Green Pea Soup Trifle Mutton Chops Barley Water Boiled Chicken Stewed Duck and Peas Curry The Railway Gilpin Elegy The Boa and the Blanket The Dilly and the D's A Book in a Bustle Stanzas for the Sentimental. 1. On a Tear which Angelina observed trickling down my nose at Dinner-time . 2. On ray refusing Angelina a kiss under the Mistletoe " 49*7 AUTHOB. PAGH Punch . . . . . 445 (1 . . 446 It . . 447 it . . 447 tt . . 449 ti . . 450 ti . . 451 tt . . 453 tt . . 455 tt . . 456 tt . . 457 tt . . 458 tt . . 451 tt . . 460 tt . . 461 tt . . 462 tt . . 462 tt . . 463 tt . . 463 tt . . 464 tt . . 464 tt . . 465 tt . . 466 tt . . 467 tt . . 468 11 . , 469 tt . . 470 tt . . 470 It . . 471 It . . 472 tt . . 473 tt . . 474 It . . 475 It . . 478 It . . 480 It . . 485 II . 492 496 INDEX. XI SXTBJECE, AUTHOB. 3. On my finding Angelina stop suddenly Punch in a rapid after-supper-polka at Mrs. Tompkins' Ball " . Colloquy on a Cab-stand " . The Song of Hiawatha " . Comfort in AfSiction Aytoun The Husband's Petition " The Biter Bit " A Midnight Meditation " Tlie Dirge of the Drinker " Francesca da Rimi ni " Louis Napoleon's Address to his Army . . " The Battle of the Boulevard " Puffs Poetical. 1. Paris and Helen " 2. Tarquin and the Augur " Reflections of a Proud Pedestrian .... Hdlmea Evening, by a Tailor " Phsethon Saxe . The School-house Lowed . PAOB 497 498 499 503 504 506 507 510 511 512 513 514 516 517 518 519 622 EPIGRAMMATIC. Epigrams of Ben Johnson. To Fine Grand 525 " Brainhardy 525 " Doctor Empiric 526 " Sir Samuel Fuller 526 On Banks, the Usurer 526 " Chevril the Lawyer 526 Epigrammatic Verses by Samuel BuUer. Opinion 527 Critics 527 Hypocrisy 527 Polish 528 The Godly 523 Piety 528 Marriage 528 Poets 528 Puffing 529 Pohticiana • 529 Pear 529 xii INDEX. BUBJIOI^ ACTHOR. PAQB The Law Samud BuUer . 530 " " 530 " " 530 Confession 530 Smatterers 530 Bad Writers 530 The Opinionative 531 Language of the Learned 531 Good Writing 531 Courtiers 531 Inventions 531 Logicians 632 Laborious Writers 532 On a Club of Sots 532 Holland 532 Women 533 Epigrams of Edmund Waller. On a Painted Lady 533 " the Marriage of the Dwarfs 534 Epigrams of Matthew Prior. A Simile 534 TheFUes 535 Phillis's Aee 535 To the Duke de Noailles 536 On Bishop Atterbuiy 536 Porma Bonum Fragile 537 Earning a Dinner 537 Bibo and Charun 537 The Pedant 53"? Epigrams of Joseph Addison. The Countess of Manchester 538 To an Dl-favored Lady 538 " a Capricious Friend 538 " a Rogue 538 Epigrams of Alexander Pope. On Mrs. Tofts 539 To a Blockhead 539 The Fool and the Poet 539 Epigrams of Dean Swift. On Burning a Dull Poem 539 To a Lady 540 The Cudgeled Husband 540 On seemg Verses written upon Windows at Inns 540 INDEX. Xlll BTTBJBOT. AUTHOB. PAOB On seeing the Busts of Newton, Locke, eta, Dean Swifl , . . 541 On the Church's Danger 541 On one Delacourt, eta 541 On a Usurer 541 To Mra Biddy Floyd 542 The Reverse 542 The Place of the Damned 543 The Day of Judgment 544 Paulus the Lawyer Lindsay .... 544 Epigrams by Thomas Sheridan. On a Caricature 545 On Dean Swift's Proposed Hospital, etc., 545 To a Dublm Publisher 545 Which is "Wliich Byrom .... 545 On some Lines of Lopez de Vega .... Dr. Johnson . . . 545 On a Full-length Portrait of Beau Nash, etc., Chesterfield . , . 546 On Scotland Cleveland. . . . 546 Epigrams of Peter Pindar. Edmund Burke's Attack on "Warren Hast- ings 546 On an Artist 547 On the Conclusion of his Odes 547 The Lex Talionis upon Benjamin "West 548 Barry's Attack upon Sir Joshua Reynolds 549 On the Death of Mr. Hone 549 On George the Third's Patron^e of Benja- min "West 549 jbiother on the Same 550 Epitaph on Peter Staggs 550 Tray's Epitaph 550 On a Stone thrown at a very great Man, eta . 551 A Consolatory Stanza 551 Epigrams by Robert Bwrn.'i. The Poet's Choice 551 On a celebrated Ruling Elder. 551 On John Dove 552 On Andrew Turner 552 On a Scotch Coxcomb 552 On Grizzel Grim 552 On a "Wag in Mauchline 553 Epitaph on "W— 553 On a Suicide 653 Epigrams from the German of Lessing. Niger 553 XIV INDBX. 8ITBJK0T. AUTHOB. PAQfl A N.oe Point Leasing .... 654 True Nobility .... 554 To a Liar 554 Mendax 554 The Bad Wife 535 The Dead Miser 555 A Fall 555 The Bad Orator 555 The Wise ChUd 555 Specimen of the Laconic 555 Cupid and Mercury 556 Fritz 556 On Dorilis 556 To a Slow Walker, etc. 556 On Two Beautiful One-eyed Sisters. 556 The Per Contra^ or Matrimonial Balance 556 Epigrams of S. T. Coleridge. An Expectoration 557 Expectoration the Second 557 To a Lady 557 Avaro 557 Beelzebub and Job 558 Sentimental 558 An Eternal Poem 558 Bad Poets 558 To Mr. Alexandre, the Ventriloquist . . . ScoU 559 The Swallows R B. Sheridan . . 559 French and English Erskine .... 559 Epigrams by Thomas Moore. To Sir Hudson Lowe 560 Dialogue 560 To Miss . 561 To 66i On being Obliged to Leave a Pleasant Par- ty, etc 561 What my Thought's like? 561 From the French 562 A Joke Versified 56" The Surprise 562 On 562 On a Squinting Poetess 562 On a Tuft-hunter 563 The Kiss 563 Epitaph on Southey. 564 INDEX. XV SITBJEOT. AUTHOB. PAS! Wntten in a Young Lady's Common-place Book Moore 564 The Rabbinical Origin of "Women 665 Anacreontif£ue 565 On Butler's Monument Wesley . . . .566 On the Disappointment of the Whig Associates of the Prince Regent, etc. Lamb 666 To Professor Airey Sydney Smith . . 566 On Lord Dudley and Ward Bogers .... 566 Epigrams of Lord Byron. To the Author of a Sonnet, etc 567 Windsor Poetics 561 On a Carrier, etc 568 Epigrams of R, K Barkam. On the Windows of King's College, etc. 568 New-made Honor 569 Eheu Fugaces 569 Anonymous Epigrams. On a Pale Lady, etc 569 Upon Pope's Translation of Homer 669. Recipe for a Modem Bonnet 570 My Wife and I 570 On Two Gentlemen, eta 570 Wellington's Nose 570 The Smoker 571 An Essay on the Understanding 571 To a Living Author 571 Epigrams by Thomas Hood. On the Art Unions 571 The Superiority of Machinery 571 Epigrams by W. Savage Landor. On Observing a Vulgar Name on the Plinth of a Statue 572 Lying in State. . . . . 572 Epigrams from Punth. The Cause 572 Irish Particular •• 572 One Grood Turn deserves Anotlier 573 Sticky 673 The Poet Foiled 573 Black and White 573 Inquest — not Extraordinary 573 Domestic Economy 574 On Seeing an Execution 574 XVI INDEX. BTTBJEOT. AUTHOB. PAOI A Voice, and Nothing Else Punch 674 The Aiaende Honorable 574 The Czar 574 Bas-Bleu 575 To a Rich Young Widow 575 The Railway of Life 575 A Conjugal Conundrum 575 Numbers Altered 57fi Grammar for the Court of Berlin 576 The Empty Bottle Aytoun .... 576 The Death of Doctor Morrison Bentley^s Miscellany 576 Epigrams by John G. Saxe. On a Recent Classic Controversy 577 Another 577 On an ill-read Lawyer 577 On an Ugly Person Sittmg for a Daguerreo- type 577 Woman's WilL 577 Family Quarrels 578 A Revolutionary Hero Lowell 578 Epigrams of Halpin. The Last Resort 578 Feminine Arithmetic 579 The Mushroom Hunt 579 Jupiter Amans London Leader . . 580 The Orator's Epitaph Lord Brougham . 580 ECCENTRIC AND NONDESCRIPT. The Jovial Priest's Confession Leigh Hunt . . . 583 Touis ad Resto Mare Anonymous . . . 584 Die Dean Swift . . . 584 MoU " ... 585 To My Mistress " ... 586 A Love Song " .585 A Gentle Echo on Woman " . 586 To my Nose .... Anonymous . 587 Roger and Dolly Blackwood . . . 587 The Irishman " ... 588 A Catalectic Monody OmikshanKs Om. . 589 A. New Song .... Gay . .. 590 INDEX. XVTi SUBJECT. AUTHOE. PA«B Remiuiscences of a Sentimentalist .... Hood 592 Faithless Nelly Gray " 594 No! " 596 Jacob Omnium's Hoss Thackeray . . . 597 The Wofle New BaUad of Jane Roney and Mary Brown " ... 601 The Ballad of Eliza Davis " ... 603 Lines on a Late Hospicious Ewent ... " ... 606 Tlie Lamentable Ballad of the Foundling of Shoreditch «* ... 610 The Crystal Palace " ... 613 The Speculators «« ... 617 A Letter from Mr. Hosea Biglow, eta . . Lowell 619 A Letter from a Candidate for the Presi- dency " 623 The Candidate's Creed " 626 The Courtin' " 629 A Song for a Catarrh Punch 630 Epitaph on a Candle " 630 Poetry on an Improved Principle .... " 631 On a Rejected Nosegay " 632 A Serenade «« 633 Railroad Nursery Rhyme " 633 An Invitation to the Zoological Gardens . . " 634 To the Leading Periodical " 634 The People and their Palace " 635 A Swell's Homage to Mrs. Stowe .... " 636 The Exclusive's Broken Idol " 637 The Last Kick of Fop's Alley " 637 The Mad Cabman's Song of Sixpence . . " 638 Alarming Prospect " 640 Epitaph on a Locomotive " 643 The Ticket of Leave " 644 A Polka Lyric Barclay Phillips . G46 A Sunnit to the Big Ox Anonymous . . . 646 ENIGMATIC. Riddles by Matthew Prior. Two Riddles 661 Enigma 651 Another , 652 XVUi INDEX. BUBJKOT. AUTHDB. PAfll Riddles by Oea'"' Swift and his friends. A Maypole 652 On the Moon 653 On Ink 654 On a Circle 654 On a Pen 655 A Fan 656 On a Cannon 656 On the Five Senses 657 On Snow 657 On a Candle 658 On a Corkscrew 658 On the Same 659 An Echo 660 On the Vowels 661 On a Pan- of Dice 661 On a Shadow in a Glass 661 On Time 66i List of Soubobs 664 LIST OF ILLUSTEATIONS. -•- JAMES PARTON ....... Frontispiece. BRYANT 58 BURNS 112 LAMB . . . 168 BYRON . 224 POPE . . . • 280 CHAUCER . 336 WILLIS 392 HOLMES 448 LOWELL 504 LANDOR 572 THACKERAY 616 MISCELLANEOUS. MISCELLANEOUS. TO MY EMPTY PURSE. CHAUOER. To you, my purse, and to none other wight, Complain I, for ye be my lady dere ; I am sorry now that ye be hght, For, certes, ye now make me heavy chere ; Me were as lefe be laid upon a bere, For which unto your mercy thus I crie, Be heavy againe, or els mote I die. Now vouchsafe this day or it be night, That I of you the blissful sowne may here. Or see your color like the sunne bright. That of yellowness had never pere ; Ye are my Ufe, ye be my hertes store, Queen of comfort and of good companie. Be heavy again, or else mote I die. Now purse, thou art to me my hves hght. And saviour, as downe in tliis world here, Out of this towne helpe me by your might, Sith that you will not be my treasure. For I am slave as nere as any frere. But I pray unto your curtesie, Be heavy again, or els mote I die. TO CHLOE AN APOLOGY FOR GOING INTO THE COUNTRY. PETER PINDAIL CiiLOE, we must not always be in heaven. For ever toymg, ogling, kissing, billing ; The joys for which I thousands would have given, Will presently be scarcely Avorth a shilhng. 22 MISCELLANEOUS. Thy neck is fairer than the Alpine snows, And, sweetly swelling, beats the down of doves; Thy cheek of health, a rival to the rose ; Thy pouting lips, the throne of all the loves; Yet, though thus beautiful beyond expression, Thai beauty fadeth by too much possession. Economy in love is peace to nature. Much hke economy in worldly matter ; We should be prudent, never live too fast; Profusion will not, can not, always last. Lovers are really spendthrifts — 't is a sLame — Nothing their thoughtless, wild career can tame, Tin penury stares them in the face ; And when they find an empty purse, Grown calmer, wiser, how the fault they curse. And, hmping, look with such a sneaking grace ! Job's war-horse fierce, his neck with thunder hung, Sunk to an humble hack that carries duns'. -"c Smell to the queen of flowers, the fragrant rose- Smell twenty times — and then, my dear, thy nose Will teU thee (not so much for scent athu-st) The twentieth drank less flavor than the first. Love, doubtless, is the sweetest of all fellows ; Tet often should the little god retire — Absence, dear Chloe, is a pah- of bellows. That keeps alive the sacred fire. TO A FLY, TAKEN OUT OF A BOWL OF PUNCH. PETER PINDARi .ft H ! poor intoxicated little knave. Now senseless, floating on the fragrant wave; Why not content the cakes alone to munch ? Dearly thou pay'st for buzzing round the bowl ; Lost to the world, thou busy sweet-lipped soul — Thus Death, as well as Pleasure, dwells with Pundi. MISCELLANEOUS. 23 Now let me take thee out, and moralize — Thus 't is with mortals, as it is with flies, Forever hankering after Pleasure's cup : Though Fate, with all his legions, be at hand, The beasts, the draught of Circe can't withstand, But in goes every nose — they must, wiU sup. Mad are the passions, as a colt untamed ! When Prudence mounts their backs to ride them mild, They fling, they snort, they foam, they rise inflamed. Insisting on their own sole will so wild. Gadsbud ! my buzzing friend, thou art not dead ; The Fates, so kind, have not yet snapped thy thread ; By heavens, thou mov'st a leg, and now its brother. And kicking, lo, again, thou mov'st another 1 And now thy little drunken eyes unclose, And now thou feelest for thy little nose, And, finding it, thou rubbest thy two hands Much as to say, " I 'm glad I 'm here again." And well mayest thou rejoice — 'tis very plain. That near wert thou to Death's unsocial lands. And now thou roUest on thy back about, Happy to find thyself alive, no doubt — Now turnest — on the table making rings , Now crawKng, forming a wet track. Now shaking the rich liquor from thy back. Now fluttering nectar from thy silken wings , Now standing on thy head, thy strength to find, And poking out thy small, long legs behind ; And now thy pinions dost thou briskly ply; Preparing now to leave me — farewell, fly I Go, join thy brothers on yon sunny board, And rapture to thy family afford — There wilt thou meet a mistress, or a wife, That saw thee drunk, drop senseless in the stream ; Who gave, perhaps, the wide-resounding scream, And now sits groaning for thy precious Ufe. 24 MISCELLANEOUS. Yes, go and carr}' comfort to thy friends, And wisely tell them thy imprudence ends. Let buns and sugar for the future charm ; These will dehght, and feed, and work no harm- While Punch, the grinning, merry imp of sin, Invites th' unwary wanderer to a kiss, Smiles in his face, as though he meant him bliss, Then, hke an alligator, drags him in. MAN MAY BE HAPPY. PETER FCNBjUL " Man may be happy, if he wiU :" I 've said it often, and I think so still; Doctrine to make the million stare ! Know then, each mortal is an actual Jove ; Can brew what weather he shall most approve, Or wind, or calm, or foul, or fair. Eut here 's the mischief— man's an ass, I say ; Too fond of thunder, Hghtning, storm, and rain ; He hides the charming, cheerful ray That spreads a smile o'er hill and plain I Dark, he must court the skull, and spade, and shroud— The mistress of his soul must be a cloud ! Who told him that he must be cursed on earth ? The God of Nature ? — No such thing; Heaven whispered him, the moment of his birth, "Don't cry, my lad, but dance and sing; Don't be too wise, and be an ape: — In colors let thy soul be dressed, not crape. " Roses shall smooth life's journey, and adorn ; Yet mind me — ^if, through want of grace. Thou mean'st to fling the blessing in my face, Thou hast full leave to tread upon a thorn." Yet some there are, of men, I think the worst, Poor imps I unhappy, if they can', ^e cursed— MISCELLANEOUS. 2fi Forever brooding over Misery's eggs, As though life's pleasure were a deadly sin ; Mousing forever for a gin To catch their happiness by the legs. Even at a dinner some will be unblessed, However good the viands, and well dressed : They always come to table with a scowl, Squint with a face of verjuice o'er each dish. Fault the poor flesh, and quarrel with the fish. Curse cook and wife, and, loathing, eat and growL A cart-load, lo, their stomachs steal. Yet swear they can not make a meal. I like not the blue-devil-hunting crew ! I hate to drop the discontented jaw I let me Nature's simple smile pursue, And pick even pleasure fiom a straw. ADDRESS TO THE TOOTHACHE. VntlTTEN WHEN THE AUTHOR WAS GRIEVOUSLY TORMENTEE BY THAT DISORDER. ROBERT BURN* My curse upon thy venom' d stang. That shoots my tortur'd gums alang ; And thro' my lugs gies mony a twang, Wi' gnawing vengeance; Tearing my nerves wi' bitter pang, Like racking engines I Wlien fevers burn, or ague freezes. Rheumatics gnaw, or cholic squeezes ; Our neighbors' sympathy may ease us, Wi' pitying moan ; But thee — thou hell o' a' diseases. Aye mocks our groan ! Adown my beard the slavers trickle ! I kick the wee stools o'er the mickle, 2 28 MISCELLANEOUS. As round the fire the giglets keckle, To see me loup ; While, raving mad, I wish a heckle Were in their doup. O' a' the num'rous human dools, 111 har'sts, daft bargains, cutty-stools, Or worthy fi-iends rak'd i' the mools. Sad sight to see I The tricks o' knaves, or fash o' fools. Thou bear'st the gree. Where'er that place be priests ca' heU, Whence a' the tones o' mis'ry yell. And ranked plagues their numbers tell, In dreadfii' raw. Thou, Toothache, surely bear'st the bell, Amang them a' ; thou grim mischief-making chiel. That gars the notes of discord squeel, 'Tni daft mankind aft dance a reel In gore a shoe-thick ; — Qie a' the faes o' Scotland's weal A towTQond's Toothache ! THE PIG. A COLLOQUIAL POEM. ROBERT SODTHEf Jacob I I do not like to see thy nose Turn'd up in scornful curve at yonder pig. It would be well, my friend, if we, like him. Were perfect in our kind ! . . And why despise The sow-bom grunter ? . . He is obstinate, Thou answerest ; ugly, and the filthiest beast That banquets upon offal. . . . Now I pray you Hear the pig's counsel. Is he obstinate ? We must not, Jacob, be deceived by words ; We must not take them as unheeding hands MISCELLANEOUS. 27 Receive base money at tlie current worth, But with a just suspicion try their sound, And in the even balance weigh them welL See now to what tliis obstinacy comes : A poor, mistreated, democratic beast, He knows that his unmerciful drivers seek Their profit, and not his. He hath not learned That pigs were made for man, . . born to be brawn'd And baconized : that he must please to give Just what his gracious masters please to take ; Perhaps his tusks, the weapons Nature gave For self-defense, the general privilege ; Perhaps, . . hark, Jacob ! dost thou hear that horn ? Woe to the young posterity of Pork ! Their enemy is at hand. Again. Thou say'st The pig is ugly. Jacob, look at him ! Those eyes have taught the lover flattery. His face, . . nay, Jacob ! Jacob ! were it fan To judge a lady in her dishabille ? Fancy it dressed, and with saltpeter rouged. Behold his tail, my friend ; with curls like that The wanton hop marries her stately spouse : So crisp in beauty Amoretta's hair Rings round her lover's soul the chains of love. And what is beauty, but tjie_aplitude Of ^arts harmonious ? Give thy fancy scope, And thou wilt find that no imagined change Can beautify this beast. Place at liis end The starry glories of the peacock's pride, Give him the swan's white breast; for his horn-hoofa Shape such a foot and ankle as the waves Crowded in eager rivaliy to kiss When Venus from the enamor'd sea arose ; . . Jacob, thou canst but make a monster of him 1 All alteration man could think, would mar His pig-perfection. The last charge, . . he lives A dirty life. Here I could shelter him With noble and right-reverend precedents. And show by sanction of authority Tliat 'tis a very honorable thing 28 MISCELLANEOUS. To thrive by dirty ways. But let me rest On better ground the unanswerable defense. The pig is a philosopher, who knows No prejudice. Dirt? . . Jacob, what is dirt? If matter, . . why the deUcate dish that tempts An o'ergorged epicure to the last morsel That stuffs him to the throat-gates, is no more. If matter be not, but as sages say, Spirit is all, and all things visible Are one, the infinitely modified, Think, Jacob, what that pig is, and the mire Wherein he stands knee-deep ! And there ! the breeze Pleads with me, and has won thee to a smile That speaks conviction. O'er yon blossom'd field Of beans it came, and thoughts of bacon rise. SNUFF. ROBERT SOUTHEY A DELICATE pinch ! oh how it tingles up The titUlated nose, and fills the eyes And breast, till in one comfortable sneeze The full-collected pleasure bursts at last ! Most rare Columbus ! thou shalt be for this The only Christopher in my calendar. Why, but for thee the uses of the nose Were half unknown, and its capacity Of joy. The summer gale that from the heath, At midnoon glowing with the golden gorse, Bears its balsamic odor, but provokes Not satisfies the sense ; and all the flowers, That with their unsubstantial fragrance tempt And disappoint, bloom for so short a space. That half tlie year the nostrils would keep Lent, But that the kind tobacconist admits No winter in his work; Avhen Nature sleeps His wheels roll on, and still administer A plenitude of joy, a tangible smell. What are Peru and those Golcondan mines To thee, Virginia ? miserable realms, MISCELLANEOUS. 29 The produce of inhuman toil, they send Gold for the greedy, jewels for the vain. But thine are common comforts ! . . To omit Pipe-panegyric and tobacco-praise, Think what a general joy the snufF-box gives, Europe, and far above Pizarro's name "Write Ealeigh in thy records of renown I Him let the school-boy bless if he behold His master's box produced, for when he sees The thumb and finger of authority Stuffed up the nostrils : when hat, head, and wig Shake all ; when on the waistcoat black, brown dust, From the oft-reiterated pinch profuse Profusely scattered, lodges in its folds. And part on the magistral table hghts, Part on the open book, soon blown away, Full surely soon shall then the brow severe Relax ; and from vituperative hps Words that of birch remind not, sounds of praise, And jokes that must be laughed at shall proceed. A FAREWELL TO TOBACCO. CHARLES LAMB. May the Babylonish curse Straight confound my stammering veise, If I can a passage see In this word-perplexity, Or a fit expression find, Or a language to my mind, (Still the phrase is wide or scant) To take leave of thee, great plant ! Or in any terms relate Half my love, or half my hate : For I hate, yet love thee, so, That, whichever thing I show, The plain truth wLU seem to be A constrain'd hyperbole, And the passion to proceed More from a mistress than a weed. 80 MISCELLANEOUS. Sooty retainer to the vine, Bacchus' black servant, negro fine ; Sorcerer, that mak'st us dote upon Thy begrimed complexion, And, for thy pernicious sake, More and greater oaths to break Than reclaimed lovers take 'Gainst women : thou thy siege dost lay Much too in the female way, While thou suck'st the lab'ring breath Faster than kisses or than death, Thou in such a cloud dost bind U3, That our vs^orst foes can not find us. And ill fortune, that would thwart us Shoots at rovers, shooting at us ; While each man, through tliy height'ning steam, Does hke a smoking Etna seem, And all about us does express (Fancy and wit in richest dress) A Sicilian fruitfulness. Thou through such a mist dost show us, That our best fi-iends do not know us, And, for those allowed features. Due to reasonable creatures, Liken'st us to fell Chimeras, Monsters that, who see us, fear us; Worse than Cerberus or Q-eryon, Or, who first loved a cloud, Ixion. Bacchus we know, and we allow His tipsy rites. But what art thou, That but by reflex canst show What his deity can do. As the false Egyptian spell Aped the true Hebrew miracle ? Some few vapors thou may'st raise, The weak brain may serve to amaze, But to the reins and nobler heart Canst nor life nor heat impart MISCELLANEOUS. SI Brother of Bacchus, later born, The old world was sure forlorn Wanting thee, that aidest more The god's victories than before All his panthers, and the brawls Of liis piping Bacchanals. These, as stale, we disallow. Or judge of tliee meant : only thou His true Indian conquest art ; And, for ivy round his dart, The reformed god now weaves A finer thyrsus of thy leaves. Scent to match thy rich perfume Chemic art did ne'er presume Through her quaint alembic strain, None so sov'reign to the brain ; Nature, that did in thee excel. Framed again no second smelL Roses, violets, but toys For the smaller sort of boys, Or for greener damsels meant; Thou art the only manly scent. Stinking'st of the stinking kind, Filth of the mouth and fog of the mind, Africa, that brags her foison, Breeds no such prodigious poison Henbane, nightshade, both together, Hemlock, aconite Nay, rather. Plant divine, of rarest virtue ; Blisters on the tongue would hurt you. 'Twas but in a sort I blamed thee ; None e'er prosper'd who defamed thee ; Irony all, and feign'd abuse. Such as perplex'd lovers use, At a need, when, in despair To paint forth their fairest fair, Or in part but to express That exceeding comeliness Which their fancies doth so strike, They borrow language of dislike ; 38 MISCELLANEOUS. And, instead of Dearest Miss, Jewel, Honey, Sweetheart, Bliss, And those forms of old admiring, Call her Cockatrice and Siren, Basilisk, and all that's evil, Witch, Hyena, Mermaid, Devil, Ethiop, Wench, and Blackamoor, Monkey, Ape, and twenty more ; Friendly Trait'ress, loving Foe — Not that she is truly so. But no other way they know A contentment to express, Borders so upon excess. That they do not rightly wot Whether it be pain or not. Or, as men, constrain'd to part With Avhat's nearest to their heart, While their sorrow 's at the height, Lose discrimination quite, And their hasty wrath let fall, To appease their frantic gall, On the darling thing whatever. Whence they feel it death to sever, Though it be, as they, perforce, Guiltless of the sad divorce. For I must (nor let it grieve thee. Friendliest of plants, that I must) leave thee. For thy sake, tobacco, I Would do any thing but die. And but seek to extend my days Long enough to sing thy praise. But, as she, who once hath been A king's consort, is a queen Ever after, nor will bate Any title of her state. Though a widow, or divorced, So I, from thy converse forced. The old name and style retain, A right Katherine of Spain ; And a seat, too, 'mongst the joys Of the blest Tobacco Boys ; MISCELLANEOUS. 93 Where, though I, by sour physician, Am debarr'd the full fruition Of thy favors, I ixav catcli Some collateral sweets, and snatch Sidelong odors, that give life Like glances from a neighbor's wife ; And still live in the by-places And the suburbs of thy graces ; And in thy borders take delight. An unconquer'd Canaanite. WRITTEN AFTER SWIMMING FROM SESTOS TO ABYDOS. BYKON. If, in the month of dark December, Leander, who was nightly wont (What maid will not the tale remember ?) To cross thy stream broad Hellespont / If, when the Avint'ry tempest roar'd. He sped to Hero nothing loth, And thus of old thy current pour'd, Fair Venus ! how I pity both ! For me, degenerate, modern wretch, Though in the genial month of May, My dripping limbs I faintly stretch, And think I 've done a feat to-day. But since he crossed the rapid tide. According to the doubtful story, To woe — and — Loid knows what beside, And swam for Love, as I for Glory ; 'T were hard to say who fared the best : Sad mortals I thus the gods stUl plague you I He lost his labor, I my jest ; For he was drowned, and I 've the ague 2* 34 MISCELLANEOUS. THE LISBON PACKET Huzza ! Hodgson, we are going, Our embargo 's off at last ; Favorable breezes blowing: Bend the canvas o'er the mast From aloft the signal 's streaming:. Hark I the farewell gun is fired ; Women screeching, tars blaspheming, Tell us that om- time 's expired. Here 's a rascal Come to task all. Prying from the custom-house ; Trunks unpacking, Cases cracking, Not a corner for a mouse 'Scapes unsearched amid the racket, Ere we sail on board the Packet Now our boatmen quit their mooring, And all hands must ply the oar ; Baggage from the quay is lowering. We 're knpatient — push from shore. " Have a care! that case holds Uquor — Stop the boa1>— I 'm sick— Lord !" " Sick, ma'am, damme, you '11 be sicker Ere you 've been an hour on board." Thus are screaming Men and women, G-emmen, ladies, servants, Jacks ; Here entanghng. All are wranghng. Stuck together close as wax. — Such the general noise and racket. Ere we reach the Lisbon Packet Now we 've reached her, lo ! the captain. Gallant Kid, commands the crew ; Passengers their berths are clapped in. Some to grumble, some to spew. BYROM MISCELLANEOUS. 3A ' Hey day ! call you that a cabin ? Why, 'tis hardly three feet square ; Not enough to stow Queen Mab in — Who the deuce can harbor there ?" " Who, sir ? plenty — Nobles twenty Did at once my vessel fiU." — " Did they ? Jesus, How you squeeze us I Would to G-od they did so still : Then I 'd 'scape the heat and racket Of the. good ship Lisbon Packet" Fletcher ! Murray ! Bob I where are you ? Stretched along the decks Uke logs — Bear a hand, you jolly tar, you I Here 's a rope's end for the dogs. Hobhouse muttering fearful curses, As the hatchway down he rolls, Now his breakfast, now his verses, Vomits forth — and damns our soula " Here 's a stanza On Braganza — Help I"—" A couplet T—" No, a cup Of warm water — " " What 's the matter ?" " Zounds I my liver "s coming up ; I shall not survive the racket Of this brutal Lisbon Packet" Now at length we 're off for Turkey, Lord knows when we shall come back I Breezes foul and tempests murky May unship us in a crack. But, since life at most a jest is, As philosophers allow. Still to laugh by far the best is, Then laugh on — as I do now. Laugh at all things, Great and small thinga. 30 MISCELLANEOUS. Sick or well, at sea or shore; While we 're quaffing, Let 's have laughing— Who the devil cares for more ? — Some good wine ! and who would lack it, Even on board the Lisbon Packet ? TO FANNY. THOMAS MOORK Never mind how the pedagogue proses, You want not antiquity's stamp, The lip that's so scented by roses, Oh ! never must smell of the lamp. Old Chloe, whose withering kisses Have long set the loves at defiance, Now done with the science of bUsses, May fly to the blisses of science ! Young Sappho, for want of employments, Alone o'er her Ovid may melt, Condemned but to read of enjoyments. Which wiser Corinna had felt. But for you to be buried in books — Oh, Fanny ! they're pitiful sages ; Who could not in one of your looks "Read more than in millions of pages ! Astronomy finds in your eye Better Hght than she studies above, And music must borrow your sigh As the melody dearest to love. In Etliics — 'tis you that can check, In a minute, their doubts and their quarrels Oh I show but that mole on your neck. And 'twin soon put an end to their morals. Your Arithmetic only can trip When to kiss and to count you endeavor ; But eloquence glows on your lip When you swear that you'll love me forevei MISCELLANK0U8. Sil Thus you see what a brilliant alliance Of arts is assembled in you — A course of more exquisite science Man never need wish to go through f And, oh ! — if a fellow like me May confer a diploma of hearts, With my Up thus I seal your degree, My divine little Mistress of Arts! YOUNG JESSICA. XnOMAS MOORK Young Jessica sat all the day. In love-dreams languishingly pining, Her needle bright neglected lay. Like truant genius idly shining. Jessy, 'tis in idle hearts That love and mischief are most nimble ; The safest sliield as;ainst the darts Of Cupid, is Minerva's tliimble. A child who with a magnet play'd. And knew its winning ways so wUy, The magnet near the needle laid. And laughing, said, " We 'U steal it slUy." The needle, having naught to do, Was pleased to let the magnet wheedle, Till closer still the tempter drew. And off, at length, eloped the needle. Now, had this needle turn'd its eye To some gay reticule's construction, It ne'er had stray'd from duty's tie, Nor felt a magnet's sly seduction. Girls would you keep tranquil hearts. Your snowy fingers must be nimble ; The safest shield against the darts Of Cupid, is ^Minerva's thimble. loSOSiO 38 MISCELLANEOUS. RINGS AND SEALS. THOMAS MOORR " Go 1" said the angry weeping maid, " The charm is broken I — once betray' d, Oh 1 never can my heart rely On word or look, on oath or sigh. Take back the gifts, so sweetly given, With promis'd faith and vows to heaven ; That httle ring, wliich, night and morn. With wedded truth my hand hath worn ; That seal which oft, in moments blest, Thou hast upon my lip imprest, And sworn its dewy spring should be A fountain seal'd for only thee I Take, take them back, the gift and vow, All sulHed, lost, and hatefiil, now!" I took the ring — the seal I took. While oh ! her every tear and look Were such as angels look and shed, When man is by the world misled 1 Gently I whisper' d, "Fanny, dear I Not half thy lover's gifts are here : Say, where are all the seals he gave To every ringlet's jetty wave, And where is every one he printed Upon that Up, so ruby-tinted — Seals of the purest gem of bhss, Oh 1 richer, softer, far than this I " And then the ring — my love ! recall How many rings, delicious all, His arms around that neck hath twisted, Twining warmer far than this did I Where are they all, so sweet, so many ? Oh I dearest, give back all, if any I" While thus I murraur'd, trembling too Lest all the nymph had vow'd was true, I saw a smile relenting rise 'Mid the moist azure of her eyes, MISCELLANEOUS. 88 Like day -light o'er a sea of blue, While yet the air is dim with dew I She let her cheek repose on mine, She let my arms around her twine — Oh I who can tell the bliss one feels Ti'. thus exchanging rings and seals 1 NETS AND CAGES. THOMAS tlOORB. Come, Usten to my story, while Your needle's task you ply ; At what I sing some maids will smile, While some, perhaps, may sigh. Though Love's the theme, and Wisdom blames Such florid songs as ours, Tet Truth, sometimes, Uke eastern dames, Can speak her thoughts by flowers. Then hsten, maids, come listen, while Your needle's task you ply ; At what I sing there's some may smile, While some, perhaps, wiU. sigh. Young Cloe, bent on catching Loves, Such nets had learn'd to frame, That none, in all our vales and groves. Ere caught so much small game : While gentle Sue, less given to roam. When Cloe's nets were taking These flights of birds, sat still at home, One small, neat Love-cage making. Come, listen, maids, etc. Much Cloe laugh'd at Susan's task ; But mark how things went on : These light-canght Loves, ere you could ask Their name and age, were gone 1 So weak poor Cloe's nets were wove, That, though she charm'd into them New game each hour, the youngest Love Was able to break through them. Come, hsten, maids, etc. 40 MISCELLANEOUS. Meanwhile, young Sue, whose cage was wrought Of bars too strong to sever, One Love with golden pinions caught, And caged him there forever ; Instructing thereby, all coquettes, Whate'er their looks or ages, That, though 'tis pleasant weaving Nets, 'Tis wiser to make Cages. Thus, maidens, thus do I beguile The task your fingers ply — May all who hear, like Susan smile, Ah I not like Cloe sigh ! SALAD. SYDNEY SMira To make this condiment, your poet begs The pounded yellow of two hard-boiled eggs ; Two boiled potatoes, passed through kitchen-sieve, Smoothness and softness to the salad give ; Let onion atoms lurk within the bowl. And, half-suspected, animate the whole. Of mordant mustard add a single spoon. Distrust the condiment that bites so soon ; But deem it not, thou man of herbs, a fault, To add a double quantity of salt. And, lastly, o'er the flavored compound toss A magic soup-spoon of anchovy sauce. Oh, green and glorious ! Oh, herbaceous treat I 'T would tempt the dying anchorite to eat ; Back to the world he 'd turn his fleeting soul, And plunge his fingers in the salad bowl I Serenely fuU, the epicure would say. Fate can not harm me, I have dined to-day I MISCELL A.NEOUS. 4] MY LETTERS. E. HARRIS BARHA!*. "Litera scrlpta manet" — Old Saw, Another mizzling, drizzling day I Of clearing up there 's no appearance ; So I '11 sit down without delay, And here, at least, I 'U make a clearance I Oh ne'er " on such a day as this," Would Dido with her woes oppressed Have woo'd ^neas back to bliss, Or Trolius gone to hunt for Cressid 1 No, they 'd have stay'd at home, like me, And popp'd their toes upon the fender, And drank a quiet cup of tea : On days Hke this one can't be tender. So, Molly, draw that basket nigher, And put my desk upon the table — Bring that portfolio — stir the fire — Now off as fast as you are able ! First here 's a card from Mrs. Grimes, " A ball !" — she knows that I 'm no dancer — That woman 's ask'd me fifty times. And yet I never send an answer. " Dear Jack, — Just lend me twenty pounds, Till Monday next, when I '11 return it. Yours truly, Henry Gibbs." Why Z— ds I I 've seen the man but twice — ^here, bum it. One from my cousin Sophy Daw — Full of Aunt Margery's distresses ; " The cat has kitten'd ' in the draw. And ruin'd two bran-new silk dresses." 42 MISCELLANEOUS, From Sam, " The Chancellor's motto," — nay- Confound his puns, he knows I hate 'em; " Pro Eege, Lege, Grege," — Ay, •' For King read Mob !" Brougham's old erratum. From Seraphina Price — " At two" — " Till then I can't, my dearest John, stir ;'' Two more because I did not go_ Beginning " Wretch" and " Faithless Monster I " Dear Sir, — " This morning Mrs. P Who 's doing quite as well as may be, Presented me at half past three Precisely, with another baby. " We '11 name it John, and know with pleasure You '11 stand" — Five guineas more, confound it!- I wish they 'd call it Nebuchadnezzar, Or thrown it in the Thames and drown'd it. What have we next ? A civil dun : " John Brown would take it as a favor" — Another, and a surlier one, " I can't put up with sich behavior." *' BUI so long standing," — " quite tired out,"— " Must sit down to insist on payment," 'Called ten times," — Here 's a fuss about A few coats, waistcoats, and small raiment. For once I'll send an answer, and in- form Mr. Snip he need n't " call" so ; But when his biU 's as " tired of standing" As he is, beg 't will " sit down also." f his from my rich old Uncle Ned, Thanking me for my annual present ; And saying he last Tuesday wed His cook-maid, Molly — vastly pleasant J An ill-spelt note from Tom at school. Begging I 'U let him learn the fiddle ; A^nother from that precious fool. Miss Pyefinch, with a stupid riddle. MISCELLANEOUS. 48 " D' ye give it up ?" Indeed I do 1 Confound those antiquated minxes : I won't play " BiUy BlacJc' to a " Blue," Or ffidipus to such old sphinxes. A. note sent up from Kent to show me, Left with my bailiff, Peter King ; '"I '11 burn them precious stacks down, blow me 1 •' Yours most sincerely, " Captain Swing." Four begging letters with petitions. One from my sister Jane, to pray I 'U execute a few commissions" In Bond-street, " when I go that way." " And buy at PearsaU's in the city Twelve skeins of silk for netting purses : Color no matter, so it's pretty ; — Two hundred pens" — two hundred curses 1 From Mistress Jones : "My Httle Billy Goes up lus schoohng to begin, WiU you just step to Piccadilly, And meet him when the coach comes in ? " And then, perhaps, you will as well, see The poor dear fellow safe to school At Dr. Smith's in Little Chelsea !" Heaven send he flog the little fool I -^o From Lady Snooks : " Dear Sir, you know You promised me last week a Rebus ; A something smart and aprojyos, For my new Album ?" — Aid me, Phoebus I " My first is follow'd by my second ; Yet should my first my second see, A dire mishap it would be reckon'd. And sadly shock'd my first would be. " Were I but what my whole implies, And pass'd by chance across your portal • You'd cry ' Can I believe my eyes ? I never saw so queer a mortal 1' 44 MISCELLANEOUS. " For then my head would not be on, My arms their shoulders must abandon ; My very body would be gone, I should not have a leg to stand on." Come that's dispatch' d — ^what follows ? — Stay " Reform demanded by the nation ; Vote for Tagrag and Bobtail !" Ay, By Jove a blessed Reformation I Jack, clap the saddle upon Rose — Or no ! — the filly — she's the fleeter ; The devil take the rain — here goes, I'm off — ^a plumper for Sir Peter 1 THE POPLAR. R. HARRIS BARHAM. At, here stands the Poplar, so tall and so stately, On whose tender rind — 'twas a httle one then — We carved her initials; though not very lately. We think in the year eighteen hundred and ten. Yes, here is the Gr which proclaimed G-eorgiana ; Our heart's empress then ; see, 'tis grown all askew; And it's not without grief we perforce entertaic a Conviction, it now looks much more like a Q. This should be the great D too, that once stood for Dobbin, Her lov'd patronymic — ah ! can it be so ? Its once fair proportions, time, too, has been robbing ; A D ?— we 'U be Deed if it isn't an ! Alas I how the soul sentimental it vexes. That thus on our labors stem Chronos should frown • Should change our soft liquids to izzards and Xes, And turn true-love's alphabet all upside down I MISCELLANEOUS. 46 SPRING. A NEW VERSION. THOMAS HOOD. " Bdm. The air bites shrewdly — it is very cold. Bor, It is a nipping and eager air." — Hamlet. Come, gentle Spring ! ethereal mildness, come 1" 1 Thomson, void of rhyme as -well as reason, How couldst thou thus poor human nature hum ? There 's no such season. The Spring I I shrink and shudder at her name ! F(jr why, I find her breath a bitter blighter 1 And suffer from her blows as if they came From Spring the Fighter. Her praises, then, let hardy poets sing. And be her tuneful laureates and upholders, Who do not feel as if they had a Spring Poured down their shoulders ! Let others eulogize her floral shows ; From me they can not win a single stanza. I know her blooms are in full blow — and so 's The Influenza. Her cowshps, stocks, and lilies of the vale. Her honey-blossoms that you hear the bees at> Her pansies, daffodils, and primrose pale, Are things I sneeze at! Fair is the vernal quarter of the year I And fair its early buddings and its blowings — But just suppose Consumption's seeds appear With other sowings 1 For me, I find, when eastern winds are high, A frigid, not a genial inspiration ; "Nor can, hke Iron-Chested Chubb, defy An inflammation. 46 MISCELLANEOUS. Smitten by breezes from the land of plague, To me all vernal luxuries are fables, 1 where 's the Spring in a rheumatic leg, Stiff as a table's ? I limp in agony — I wheeze and cough ; And quake with Ague, that great Agitator , Nor dream, before July, of leaving off My Respirator. What wonder if in May itself I lack A peg for laudatory verse to hang on ? — Spring, mUd and gentle ! — ^yes, a Spring-heeled Jack To those he sprang on. In short, whatever panegyrics Ue In fulsome odes too many to be cited. The tenderness of Spring is all my eye. And that is bhghted I ODE. ON A DISTANT PROSPECT OF CLAPHAM ACADEMY. THOMAS HOOIX An me ! those old famUiar bounds ! That classic house, those classic grounds. My pensive thought recalls ! Wliat tender urchins now confine. What Uttle captives now repine. Within yon irksome walls I Ay, that 's the very house ! I know Its ugly windows, ten a row ! Its chimneys in the rear! And there 's the iron rod so high, That drew the thunder from the skj And turned our table-beer 1 MISCELLANEOUS. ij There I was birched ! there I was bred 1 There like a Uttle Adam fed From Learning's woeful tree I The weary tasks I used to con ! — The hopeless leaves I wept upon 1 — Most fruitful leaves to me ! The summoned class! — the awful bowf— I wonder who is master now And wholesome anguish sheds I How many ushers now employs, How many maids to see the boys Have nothing in their heads ! And Mrs. S * * * ?— Doth she abet (Like Pallas in the palor) yet Some favored two or three — The Uttle Crichtons of the hour, Her muffin-medals that devour, And swill her prize — bohea ? Ay, there 's the playground ! there 's the lime, Beneath whose shade in summer's prime So wildly I have read ! — Who sits there noiVj and skims the cream Of young Eomance, and weaves a dream Of Love and Cottage-bread ? Who struts the Randall of the walk ? Who models tiny heads in chalk ? Who scoops the hght canoe ? What early genius buds apace ? Where 's Poynter ? Harris ? Bowers ? Chase f Hal Bay lis ? blithe Carew ? Alack ! they 're gone — a thousand ways I And some are serving in " the Greys," And some have perished young ! — Jack Harris weds his second wife ; Hal Bay lis drivBS the wayice ot life ; And blithe Carew — is hung I 48 MISCELLANEOUS. Grave Bowers teaches ABC To Savages at OwLyee ; Poor Chase is with the worms ! — All are gone — the olden breed ! — New crops of mushroom boys succeeds, "And push us from our former Lo ! where they scramble forth, and shout^ And leap, and skip, and mob about, At play where we have played I Some hop, some run (some fiiUj, some twine Their crony arms ; some in the shine, And some are in the shade ! Lo ther3 what mixed conditions run 1 The orphan lad ; the widow's son ; And Fortune's favored care — The wealthy born, for whom she hath Mar;adamized the future path — The nabob's pampered heirl Some brightly starred — ^some evil bom — For honor some, and some for scorn — For fair or foul renown I Good, bad, indifferent — none they lack I Look, here 's a wliite, and there 's a blaf:k ' And there 's a Creole brown I Some laugh and sing, some mope and weep. And wish their frugal sires would keep Their only sons at home; — Some tease the future tense, and plan The full-grown doings of the man, And pant for years to come I A foolish wish I There '3 one at hoop ; And four nt fives! and five who stoop The marble taw to speed I And one ttiat curvets in and out, Reining his fellow-cob about, Would I were in his sUedl MISCELLANEOUS. 49 Yet he would gladly halt and drop That boyish harness off, to swop "With tills world's heavy van — To toil, to tug. httle fool 1 While thou can be a horse at school To wish to be a man I Perchance thou deem'st it were a thing To wear a crown — to be a king I And sleep on regal down I Alas ! thou know'st not kingly cares ; Far happier is thy head that wears That hat without a crown ! And dost thou think that years acquire New added joys ? Dost think thy sire More happy than his son ? That manhood's nm-th ? — 0, go thy ways To Drury-lane when P^ys, 'And see how forced our fun I Thy taws are brave ! — thy tops are rare I— Our tops are spun with coUs of care, Our dumps are no delight 1 — The Elgin marbles are but tame. And 'tis at best a sorry game To fly the Muse's kite I Our hearts are dough, our heels are lead, Our topmost joys fell dull and dead, Like balls with no rebound I And often with a faded eye We look beliind, and send a sigh Toward that merry ground I Then be contented. Thou hast got The most of heaven in thy young lot ; There 's sky-blue in thy cup I Thou 'It find thy manhood all too fast — Soon come, soon gone I r.nd age at last A sorry hrealdng up ! 3 60 MISCELLANEOUS. SCHOOL AND SCHOOL-FELLOWS. W. MACKWOBTII PRA«T; Twelve years ago I made a mock Of filthy trades and traffics : I wondered what they meant by stock ; I wrote delightfiil sappHics : I knew the streets of Rome and Troy, I supped with fates and furies ; Twelve years ago I was a boy, A happy boy at Drury's. Twelve years ago I — how many a thought Of faded pains and pleasures, Those whispered syllables have brought From memory's hoarded treasures ! The fields, the forms, the beasts, the books. The glories and disgraces. The voices of dear friends, the looks Of old familiar faces. "Where are my friends ? — I am alone, No playmate shares my beaker — Some lie beneath the church-yard stone. And some before the Speaker ; And some compose a tragedy. And some compose a rondo ; And some draw sword for Hberty, And some draw pleas for John Doe. Tom Mill was used to blacken eyes, Without the fear of sessions ; Charles Medler loathed false quantities, As much as false professions ; Now Mill keeps order in the land, A magistrate pedantic; And Medler's feet repose unscanned . Beneath the wide Atlantic. Wild Nick, whose oaths made such a din, Does Dr. Martext's duty; And MuUiou, with that monstrous chin, Is married to a beauty ; MISCELLANEOUS. 51 And Barrel studies, week by week, His Mant and not his Manton ; And Ball, who was but poor at Greek, Is very rich at Canton. And I am eight-and-twenty now — The world's cold chain has bound me; And darker shades are on my brow, And sadder scenes around me : In ParUament I M my seat. With many other noodles ; And lay my head in Germyn-street, And sip my hock at Doodle's. But often when the cares of life, Have set my temples aching. When visions haunt me of a wife. When duns await my waking, When Lady Jane is in a pet, Or Hobby in a hurry, When Captain Hazard wins a bet. Or Beaulieu spoils a curry : For hours and hours, I think and talk Of each remembered hobby : I long to lounge in Poet's Walk — Or shiver in the lobby ; I wish that I could run away From House, and court, and levee, Where bearded men appear to-day. Just Eton boys, grown heavy ; That I could bask in childliood's sun. And dance o'er childhood's roses; And find huge wealth in one pound one. Vast wit and broken noses ; And pray Sir Giles at Datchet Lane, And call the milk-maids Houris ; That I could be a boy again — A happy boy at Drury's I 52 MISCELLANEOUS, THE VICAR. W. MACKWORTH PRAED Some years ago, ere Time and Taste Had turned our parish topsy-turvy, When Darnel Park was Darnel Waste, And roads as little known as scurvy, The man who lost his way between St. Marys' Hill and Sandy Thicket, Was always shown across the Green, And guided to the Parson's Wicket. Back flew the bolt of lisson lath ; Fair Margaret in her tidy kirtle. Led the lorn traveler up the path, Through clean-clipped rows of box and myrtle ; And Don and Sancho, Tramp and Tray, Upon the parlor steps collected, Wagged all their tails, and seemed to say, "Our master knows you; you 're expected I" Up rose the Reverend Doctor Brown, Up rose the Doctor's "winsome marrow;" The lady lay her knitting down, Her husband clasped his ponderous Barrow ; Whate'er the stranger's caste or creed. Pundit or papist, saint or sinner. He found a stable for his steed. And welcome for himself, and dinner. If, when he reached his journey's end, And warmed himself in court or college. He had not gained an honest friend, And twenty curious scraps of knowledge :— If he departed as he came, With no new light on love or liquor, — Good sooth the traveler was to blame, And not the Vicarage, or the Vicar. His talk was hke a stream which runs With rapid change from rocks to roses; It sUpped from poHtics to puns: It passed from Mohammed to Moses : MISCELLANEOUS. 63 Beginning with the laws which keep The planets in their radiant courses, And ending with some precept deep For dressing eels or shoeing horses. He was a shrewd and sound divine, Of loud Dissent the mortal terror ; • And when, by dint of page and Une, He 'stablished Truth, or started Error, The Baptist found him far too deep; The Deist sighed with saving sorrow ; And the lean Levite went to sleep. And dreamed of tasting pork to-morrow. His sermons never said or showed That Earth is foul, that Heaven is gracious, Without refresliment on the road From Jerome, or from Athanasius ; And sure a righteous zeal inspired The hand and head that penned and planned therOf For all who understood, admired, And some who did not understand them. He wrote, too, in a quiet way, Small treatises and smaller verses ; And sage remarks on chalk and clay, And hints to noble lords and nurses ; True histories of last year's ghost, Lines to a ringlet or a turban ; And trifles for the Morning Post, And no tiling for Sylvanus Urban- He did not think all mischief fair. Although he had a knack of joking; He did not make himself a bear, Although he had a taste for smoking : And when religious sects ran mad, He held, in spite of all his learning, That if a man's belief is bad. It will not be improved by burning. And he was kind, and loved to sit In the low hut or garnished cotlage, 64 MISCELLANEOUS. And praise the farmer's homely wit, And share the widow's homelier pottage ; At his approach complaint grew mild, And when his hand unbarred the shutter, The clammy lips of Fever smiled ^ The welcome which they could not utter. He always had a tale for me Of Julius Cpesar or of Venus : From liim I learned the rule of three, Cat's cradle, leap-frog, and Qute genus ; I used to singe his powdered wig. To steal the staff he put such trust in ; And make the puppy dance a jig When he began to quote Augustin. Alack the change I in vain I look For haunts in wliich my boyhood trifled ; The level lawn, the trickling brook, The trees I climbed, the beds I rifled: The church is larger than before : You reach it by a carriage entry : It holds three hundred people more : And pews are fitted up for gentry. Sit ir ^he Vicar's seat : you '11 hear The doctrine of a gentle Johnian, Whose hand is white, whose tone is clear, Whose tone is very Ciceronian. Wliere is the old man laid ? — look down. And construe on the slab before you, Hic Jacet aULIELMUS BROWN, ViR Nulla non donandus laura. THE BACHELOR'S CANE-BOTTOMED CHAHl. W. M. THACKERAY. In tattered old slippers that toast at the bars. And a ragged old jacket perfumed with cigars. Away from the world and its toils and its cares, I 've a snug little kingdom up four pair of stairs. MISCELLANEOUS. 55 To mount to this realm is a toil, to be sure, But the fire there is bright and the air rather pure ; And the view I behold on a sunshiny day- Is grand through the chinmey-pots over the way. This snug Uttle chamber is crammed in all nooks, With worthless old knicknacli:s and siUy old books, And foolish old odds and fooUsh old ends, Cracked bargains from brokers, cheap keepsakes from friends. Old armor, prints, pictures, pipes, china (all cracked), Old rickety tables, and chairs broken-backed ; A twopenny treasury, wondrous to see ; What matter ? 'tis pleasant to you, friend, and me. No better divan need the Sultan require, Than the creaking old sofa that basics by the fire; And 'tis wonderful, surely, what music you get From the rickety, ramshackle, wheezy spinet. That praying-rug came from a Turcoman's camp; By Tiber once twinkled that brazen old lamp ; A Mameluke fierce yonder dagger has drawn : 'Tis a murderous knife to toast muffins upon. Long, long through the hours, and the night, and the chimes, Here we talk of old books, and old friends, and old times; As we sit in a fog made of rich Latakie This chamber is pleasant to you, friend, and me. But of aU the cheap treasures that garnish iny nest, There 's one that I love and I cherish the best ; For the finest of couches that 's padded with hair I never would change thee, my cane-bottomed chair. 'Tis a bandy-legged, high-shouldered, worm-riaten seat, With a creaking old back, and twisted old feet ; But since the fair morning when Fanny sat there, I bless thee and love thee, old cane-bottomed chair. If chairs have but feeling in holding such charms, A thrUl must have passed through your withered old Armst I looked, and I longed, and I wisht.-d iu despair ; I wished myself turne 1 to u cane-bottouied chair. 66 MISCELLANEOUS. It was but a moment she sat in tliis place, She 'd a scarf on her neck, and a smile on her face I A smile on her face, and a rose in her hair, And she sat there, and bloomed in my cane-bottomed chair, And so I have valued my chair ever since, Like the shrine of a saint, or the throne of a prince ; Saint Fanny, my patroness sweet I declare. The queen of my heart and my cane-bottomed chair. WTien the candles burn low, and the company 's gone, In the silence of night as I sit here alone — I sit here alone, but we yet are a pair — My Fanny I see in my cane-bottomed chair. She comes from the past and revisits my room ; She looks as she then did, all beauty and bloom ; So smiUng and tender, so fresh and so fair, And yonder she sits in my cane-bottomed chair. STANZAS TO PALE ALE. Oh ! I have loved thee fondly, ever Preferr'd thee to the choicest wine ; From thee my Ups they could not sever By saying thou contain'dst strychnine. Did I beheve the slander ? Never I I held thee still to be divine. For me thy color hath a charm, Although 'tis true they call thee Pale ; And be thou cold when I am warm, As late I 've been — so liigh the scale Of Fahrenheit — and febrile harm AJlay, refrigerating Ale I Flow sweet thou art ! — yet bitter, too And sparkling, like satiric fun ; But how much better thee to bi-ew, Than a conundrum or a pun. It L'a, in every point of view, Mn.«t be allow'd by every one. PUNCH. M 1 S O E I L A N E O U S . b1 Refresh my heart and cool my thi'oat, Light, airy child of malt and hops ! That dost not stuff, engross, and bloat The skin, the sides, the chin, the chops, And burst the buttons off the coat, Like stout and porter — fattening slops 1 '^CHILDREN MUST BE PAID FOR." PUNCH. Sweet is the sound of infant voice ; Young innocence is fuU of charms : There 's not a pleasure lialf so choice, As tossing up a child in arms. Babyhood is a blessed state. Felicity expressly made for ; But still, on earth it is our fate. That even " Children must be paid for." If in an omnibus we ride. It is a beauteous sight to see, When full the vehicle inside. Age taking cliildhood on its knee. But in the dog-days' scorching heat, When a slight breath of air is pray'd for, Half suffocated in our seat, We feel that " Children must be paid for." There is about the sports of youth A charm that reaches every heart. Marbles or tops are games of truth. The bat plays no deceiver's part. But if we hear a sudden crash, No explanation need be stay'd for. We know there 's something gone to smash ; We feel that " Children must be paid for." How exquisite the infant's grace, When, clambering upon the ktiee, The cherub, smiling, takes liis place Upon his mother's lap at tea ; 58 MISCELLANEOUS. Perchance the beverage flows o'er, And leaves a stain there is no aid for, Ou carpet, dress, or chair. Once more We feel that " Children must be paid for." Presiding at the festive board. With many faces laughing round, Dull melancholy is ignored While mirth and jollity abound : We see our table amply spread With knives and forks a dozen laid for; Then pause to think : — "How are they fed ?" Yes, " Children must indeed be paid fori" THE MUSQUITO. WILLLiM CULLEN BRTAMT. ?air insect! that, with thread-like legs spread out, And blood-extracting bill, and filmy wing, Dost murmui-, as thou slowly sail'st about, In pitiless ears full many a plaintive thing, And tell how little our large veins should bleed, Would we but yield them to thy bitter need. Unwillingly, I own, and, what is worse, FuU angrily men hearken to thy plaint; Thou gettest many a brush and many a curse, For saying thou art gaunt, and starved, and faint : Even the old beggar, while he asks for food. Would kill thee, hapless stranger, if he could. I call thee stranger, for the town, I ween, Has not the honor of so proud a birth — Thou com'st from Jersey meadows, fresh and green, The offspring of the gods, though born on earth; For Titan was thy sire, and fair was she. The ocean-nymph tliat nursed thy infancy. Beneath the rushes was thy cradle swung. And when, at length, thy jrauzy Tvings grew strong, Abroad to gentle airs tlieir folds were flung, Rose in the sky, and bore thee soft along ; ^^yj/7iU(i^^zx(^^(^Y-^^^^ MISCELLANEOUS. 59 The south wind breathed to waft thee on thy way, A.nd danced and shone beneath the billowy bay. Calm rose afar the city spires, and thence Came the deep murmur of its throng of men, And as its grateful odors met thy sense, They seemed the perfumes of thy native fen- Fair lay its crowded streets, and at the sight Thy tiny song grew shriller with dehght. At length thy pinion fluttered in Broadway — All, there were fairy steps, and wliite necks kissed By wanton airs, and eyes whose killing ray Shone through the snowy vails like stars through mist; And fresh as morn, on many a cheek and chin, Bloomed the bright blood through the transparent skin. Sure these were sights to tempt an anchorite I What ! do I hear thy slender voice complain ? Thou wailest when I talk of beauty's hght, As if it brought the memory of pain : Thou art a wayward being — well — come near, And pour thy tale of sorrow in my ear. What say'st thou, slanderer ! — rouge makes thee sick ? And China Bloom at best is sorry food? And Rowland's Kalydor, if laid on thick. Poisons the thirsty wretch that bores for blood ? Grol 't was a just reward that met thy crime — But shun the sacrilege another time. That bloom was made to look at — not to touch ; To worship — not approach — that radiant wliite ; And well might sudden vengeance hght on such As dared, like thee, most impiously to bite. Thou should'st have gazed at distance, and admired — Murmured thy admiration, and retired. Thou 'rt welcome to the town — but why come here To bleed a brother poet, gaunt hke thee ? Alas ! the little blood I have is dear. And tliin will be the banquet drawn from me. GO MISCELLANEOUS. Look round — the pale-eyed sisters in my cell, Thy old acquaintance, Song and Famine, dwell. Try some plump alderman, and suck the blood Enriched by generous wine and costly meat ; On well-filled skins, sleek as thy native mud. Fix thy light pump, and press thy freckled feet Go to the men for whom, in ocean's halls, The oyster breeds, and the green turtle sprawls. There corks are di*awn, and the red vintage flows, To fill the swelling veins for thee, and now The ruddy cheek, and now the ruddier nose Shall tempt thee, as thou fiittest round the bro'w ; And when the hour of sleep its quiet brings. No angry hand shall rise to brush thy wings. TO THE LADY IN THE CHEMISETTE WITH BLACK BUTTONS. N. P. WILLia I KNOW not who thou art, thou lovely one. Thine eyes were drooped, thy lips lialf sorrowful, Tet didst thou eloquently smile on me. While handing up thy sixpence through the hole Of tliat o'er-freighted omnibus ! — ah, me ! — The world is full of meetings such as this ; A thrill — a voiceless challenge and reply, And sudden partings after — we may pass. And know not of each other's nearness now, Thou in the Knickerbocker line, and I Lone in the Waverley I Oh ! life of pain ; And even should I pass where thou dost dwell — Nay, see thee in the basement taking tea — So cold is this inexorable world, I must glide on, I dare not feast mine eye, I dare not make articulate my love, Nor o'er the u-on i-ails that hem thee in Venture to throw to thee my innocent card, Not Knowing thy papa. MISCELLANEOUS. 6J Hast thou papa ? Is thy progenitor alive, fair girl ? And what dotli he for lucre ? Lo again I A shadow o'er the face of this fair dream 1 For thou may'st be as beautiful as Love Can make thee, and the ministering hands Of milhners, incapable of more, Be lifted at thy shapeUness and air, And still 'twixt me and thee, invisibly, May rise a wall of adamant. My breath Upon my pale hp freezes as I name Manhattan's orient verge, and eke the west In its far dowTi extremity. Thy sire May be the signer of a temperance pledge, And clad all decently may wallv the earth — Nay — may be number'd with that blessed few Who never ask for discount — ^yet, alas ! If, homeward wending from his daily cares. He go by Murphy's Line, thence eastward tending— Or westward from the Line of Kipp & Brown — My vision is departed ! Harshly falls The doom upon the ear, " She 's not genteel!" And pitiless is woman who doth keep Of " good society" the golden key ! And gentlemen are bound, as are the stars, To stoop not after rising 1 But farewell, And I shall look for thee in streets where dwell The passengers by Broadway Lines aloue 1 And if my dreams be true, and thou, indeed, Art only not more lovely than genteel — Then, lady of the snow-white chemisette, The heart which vent'rously cross'd o'er to thee Upon that bridge of sixpence, may remain — And. with up-town devotedness and truth. My love shall hover round thee 1 62 MISCELLANEOUS. COME OUT, LOVE. N. P. WILLIS. Argument. — The poet starts from the Bowling Green to take his sweetheart up to Thompson's for an ice, or (if she is inclined for more) ices. He confines iiii muse to matters which any every-day man and young woman may see in taking the same p? omenade for the same innocent refreshment. Come out, love — the night is enchanting ! The moon hangs just over Broadway ; The stars are all lighted and panting — (Hot weather up there, I dare say !) 'Tis seldom that " coolness" entices, And love is no better for chilling — But come up to Thompson's for ices. And cool your warm heart for a shilling 1 What perfume comes balmily o'er us ? Mint juleps from City Hotel ! A loafer is smoking before us — (A nasty cigar, by the smell !) Woman ! thou secret past knowing I Like lilacs that grow by the wall, You breathe every air that is going, Yet gather but sweetness from all 1 On, on ! by St. Paul's, and the Astor ! Eehgion seems very ill-plaun'd I Por one day we list to the pastor, For six days we list to the band ! The sermon may dwell on the future. The organ your pulses may calm — When — pest I — that remember'd cachucha Upsets botJh the sermon and psalm ! Oh. pity the love that must utter While goes a swift, omnibus by I (TLi."iu:h sweet is I scream* when the flutter Cc" tiins shows thermometers high) — But if what I bawl, or 1 mutter. Falls into your ear but to die, Oh, the dew that falls into the gutter Is not more unhappy than 1 1 * Quei-y — Should this be Ice cream, or / scream f — Printer's DevtU MISCELLANEOUS. 63 THE WHITE CHIP HAT. N. P. WILLia I pass'd her one day in a hurry, When late for the Post with a letter — I think near the corner of Murray — And up rose my heart as I met her I I ne'er saw a parasol handled So like to a duchess's doing — I ne'er saw a slighter foot sandal' d, Or so fit to exhale in the shoeing — Lovely thing I Surprising ! — one woman can dish us So many rare sweets up together I Tournure absolutely deUcious — Chip hat without flower or feather — Well-gloved and enchantingly boddiced, Her waist like the cup of a Uly — And an air, that, while daintily modest, Eepell'd both the saucy and siUy — Quite the thing ! For such a rare wonder you '11 say, sir, There 's reason in tearing one's tether — And, to see her again in Broadway, sir, Who would not be lavish of leather 1 I met her again, and as you know I 'm sage as old Voltaire at Ferney — But I said a bad word — for my Juno Look'd sweet on a sneaking attorney — Horrid thing 1 Away flies the dream I had nourish' d — My castles like mockery fall, sir ! And, now, the fine airs that she flourish'd Seem varnish and crockery all, sir 1 The bright cup which angels might handle Turns earthy when finger'd by asses — And the star that "swaps" light with a candle, Thenceforth for a pennyworth passes 1 — Not the thing 1 64 MISCELLANEOUS. YOU KNOW IF IT WAS YOU. N. P. WILLI8. As the chill'd robin, bound to Florida Upon a morn of autumn, crosses flying The air-track of a snipe most passing fair — Yet colder in her blood than she is fair — And as that robin lingers on the wing, And feels the snipe's flight in the eddying air, And loves her for her coldness not the less — But fain would win her to that warmer sky Where love lies waking with the fragrant stars — Lo I — a languisher for sunnier climes. Where fruit, leaf, blossom, on the trees forever Image the tropic deathlessness of love — Have met, and long'd to win thee, fairest lady, To a more genial clime than cold Broadway I Tranquil and effortless thou glidest on, As doth the swan upon the yielding water. And with a cheek hke alabaster cold I But as thou didst divide the amorous air Just opposite the Astor, and didst lift That vail of languid lashes to look in At Leary's tempting window — lady I then My heart sprang in beneath that fringed vail. Like an adventurous bird that would escape To some warm chamber from the outer cold I And there would I dehghtedly remain, And close that fringed window with a kiss, And in the warm sweet chamber of thy breast, Be prisoner forever I THE DECLARATION. N. P. WILUa. 'T WAS late, and the gay company was gone. And light lay soft on the deserted room From alabaster vases, and a scent Of orange-leaves, and sweet verbena came Throuo-h the imshuttc'rM window on the air. MISCELLANEOUS. 66 And the rich pictures with their dark old tints Hung like a twiUght landscape, and all thinga Seeni'd hush'd into a slumber. Isabel, The dark-eyed, spiritual Isabel Was leaning on her harp, and I had stay'd To whisper what I could not when the crowd Hung on her look like worshipers. I knelt, And with the fervor of a hp unused To the cool breath of reason, told my love. There was no answer, and I took the hand That rested on the strings, and press'd a kiss Upon it unforbidden — and again Besought her, that this silent evidence That I was not indifferent to her heart, Might have the seal of one sweet syllable. I kiss'd the small white fingers as I spoke, Ik And she withdrew them gently, and upraised Her forehead from its resting-place, and look'd Earnestly on me — SJie had been asleep ! LOVE IN A COTTAGE. N. P. WILLIlt They may talk of love in a cottage, And bowers of trellised vine — Of nature bewitchingly simple, And miUcmaids half divine ; They may talk of the pleasure of sleeping In the shade of a spreading tree. And a walk in the fields at morning, By the side of a footstep free I But give me a sly flirtation By the Jight of a chandeher — With music to play in the pauses. And nobody very near : Or a seat on a silken sofa. With a glass of pure old Avine, A.nd mamma too blind to discover The small white hand in mine. 86 MISCELLANEOUS. Your love in a cottage is hungry, Your vine is a nest for flies — Your milkmaid shocks the Graces, And simpUcity talks of pies ! You lie do'vvn to your shady slumber And wake with a bug in your ear, And your damsel that wallis in tbe morning Is shod like a mountaineer. True love is at home on a carpet, And mightily likes his ease — And true love has an eye for a dinner, And starves beneath shady trees. His wing is the fan of a lady. His foot's an invisible tiling. And his arrow is tipp'd with a jewel, And shot from a silver string. TO HELEN IN A HUFF. N. P. WILLIS. Nay, lady, one frown is enough In a life as soon over as this — And though minutes seem long in a huff, They 're minutes 'tis pity to miss 1 The smiles you imprison so lightly Are reckon'd, hke days in echpse ; And though you may smile again brightly. You 've lost so much light from your lips I Pray, lady, smile I The cup that is longest untasted May be with our bliss running o'er. And, love when we will, we have wasted An age in not loving before ! Perchance Cupid 's forging a fetter To tie us together some day, And, just for the chance, we had better Be laying up love, I should say 1 Nay, lady, smile ! MISCELLANEOUS. 07 THE HEIGHT OF THE RIDICULOUS. OLIVER WENDELL H0LME3, I WROTE some lines, once on a time, In wondrous merry mood, And thought, as usual, men would say They were exceeding good. They were so queer, so very queer, I laughed as I would die ; Albeit, in the general way, A sober man am I. I called my servant, and he came ; How kind it was of him, To mind a slender man like me, He of the mighty limb ! " These to the printer," I exclaimed, And, in my humorous way, I added (as a trifling jest), " There '11 be the devil to pay." He took the paper, and I watched, And saw him peep within ; At the first hue he read, his face Was all upon the grin. He read the next ; the grin grew broad, And shot from ear to ear ; He read the third ; a chuckling noise I now began to hear. The fourth ; he broke into a roar ; The fifth ; his waistband split ; The sixth ; he burst five buttons ofl^ And tumbled in a fit. Ten days and nights, with sleepless eye, I watched that wretched man, And since, I never dare to write As funny as I can. fiB AIISCELLANEOUS. THE BRIEFLESS BARRISTER. A BALLAD. JOHN G. SAXa An Attorney was taking a turn, In shabby habiliments drest ; His coat it was shockingly worn, And the rust had invested liis vest. His breeches had suffered a breach, His hnen and worsted were worse ; He had scarce a whole crown in his hat, And not half-a-crown in his purse. And thus as he wandered along, A cheerless and comfortless elf, He sought for relief in a song, Or complainingly talked to himself: " Unfortunate man that I am I I 've never a client but grief; The case is, I 've no case at all. And in brief, I've ne'er had a brief I " I 've waited and waited in vain, Expecting an ' opening' to find, "Where an honest young lawyer might gain Some reward for the toU of his mind. *' 'Tis not that I 'm wanting in law, Or lack an intelhgent face. That others have cases to plead, WhUe I have to plead for a case. " O, how can a modest young man E'er hope for the smallest progi'ession — The profession's already so full Of lawyers so full of profession I" While thug he was strolling around, His eye accidentelly fell On a very deep hole in the ground, And he sighed to himself, " It is well I" MISCELLANEOUS. 69 To curb his emotions, he sat On the curb-stone the space of a minute, T iieu cried, " Here 's an opening at last 1" And in less than a jifiy was in it ! 'Next morning twelve citizens came ('Twas the coroner bade them attend), To the end that it might be determined How the man had determined his end I '• The man was a lawyer, I hear," Quoth the foreman who sat on the corse; " A lawyer ? Alas I" said another, " Undoubtedly he died of remorse I" A third said, " He knew the deceased, An attorney well versed in the laws, And as to the cause of his death, 'Twas no doubt from the want of a cause." The jury decided at length, After solemnly weighing the matter, " That the lawyer was drownded, because He could not keep his head above water 1" SONNET TO A CLAM. JOHN 6. SAXBi Dum tacent cZomant. Inglorious friend ! most confident I am Thy life is one of very little ease ; Albeit men mock thee with their similes And prate of being " happy as a clam I" What though thy shell protects thy fragile head From the sharp baUiffs of the briny sea ? Thy valves are, sure, no safety-valves to thee, While rakes are free to desecrate thy bed, And bear thee off — as foemen take their spoil — Far from thy friends and family to roam ; Forced, Uke a Hessian, from thy native home, To meet destruction in a foreign broil ! Though thou art tender, yet thy humble bard Declares, clam ! thy case is shocking hard I 70 MISCELLANEOUS. VENUS OF THE NEEDLE. WILLIAM ALLINGHASl Maryanne, you pretty girl, Intent on silky labor, Of sempstresses the pink and pearl, Excuse a peeping neighbor ! Those eyes, forever drooping, give The long brown lashes rarely ; But violets in the shadows live, — For once unvail them fairly. Hast thou not lent that flounce enough Of looks so long and earnest ? Lo, here 's more " penetrable stuff," To which thou never turnest. Te graceful fingers, deftly sped I How slender, and how nimble ! might I wind their skeins of thread, Or but pick up their thimble I How blest the youth whom love shall bring; And happy stars embolden, To change the dome into a ring. The silver into golden 1 Who '11 steal some mornincf to her side To take her finger's measure. While Maryanne pretends to chide, And blushes deep witli pleasure. Who '11 watch her sew her wedding-gown, Well conscious that it is hers, Who '11 glean a tress, without a frown, With those so ready scissors. Who '11 taste those ripenings of the south, The fragrant and delicious — Don't put the pins into your mouth, Maryanne, my precious 1 MISCELLANEOUS. 71 I almost wish it wore my trust To teach how shocking tliat is; I wish I had not, as I must, To quit this tempting lattice. Sure aim takes Cupid, fluttering foe, Across a street so narrow ; A thread of silk to string his bow, A needle for liis arrow ! I^ A 11 R A T 1 V E . NARRATIVE TA.KE THY OLD CLOAK ABOUT THEE. [old ballad, quoted by SILAKSPEARE, in OTHELLO.] PERCY RELIQUES. This winters weather itt waxeth cold, And frost doth freese on every hill. And Boreas blowes his blasts soe bold. That all our catteU are like to spiU ; Bell, my wifFe, who loves noe strife, Shee sayd unto me quietlye, Rise up, and save cow Cumbockes Uffe, Man, put thine old cloake about thee. He. I.) Bell, why dost thou flyte and scorne ? Thou kenst my cloak is very thin : Itt is soe bare and overworne A cricke he theron cannot renn : Then He no longer borrowe nor lend. For once He new appareld bee, To-morrow He to towne and spend. For lie have a new cloake about mee. She. Cow Crumbocke is a very good cowe, Shee ha beene ahvayes true to the payle. She has helpt us to butter and cheese, I trow An d other things shee will not fayle ; I wold be loth to see her pine. Good husband counceU take of mee. It is not for us to go soe fine, Man, take thine old cloake about thee. 7fi NARRATIVE, He. My cloake it was a very good cloake Itt hath been alwayes true to the weare, But now it is not worth a groat ; I have had it four and forty yeere ; Sometime itt was of cloth in graine, 'Tis now but a sigh clout as you may see, It will neither hold out winde nor raine ; And He have a new cloake about mee. She. It is four and fortye yeeres agoe Since the one of us the other did ken, And we have had betwixt us towe Of children either nine or ten ; Wee have brought them up to women and men ; In the feare of God I trow they bee ; And why wilt thou thyseKe misken ? Man, take thine old cloake about thee. He. O Bell, my wiffe, why dost thou floute 1 Now is nowe, and then was then : Seeke now all the world throughout, Thou kenst not clownes from gentlemen. They are cladd in blacke, greene, yellowe, or gray, Soe far above their owne degree ; Once in my life He doe as they, For He have a new cloake about mee. She. -King Stephen was a worthy peere, His breeches cost him but a crowne, He held them sixpence all too deere ; Therefore he calld the taylor Lowne. He was a wight of high renowne, j^ nd thouse but of a low degree : Ttt'i5 pride that putts this countrye downe, Man, take tliine old cloake about thee. narrative. 77 He. " Bell, my wife, she loves not strife, Yet she •will lead me if she can ; And oft, to Uve a quiet life, I am forced to yield, though Ime good-man ;" Itt 's not for a man with a woman to threape, Unlesse he first gave oer the plea : As wee began wee now will leave, And He take mine old cloake about mee. KING JOHN AND THE ABBOT. [an old ENGLISH BALLAD — LONG VKUY POPULAR.] PERCY RELIQUES An ancient story lie tell you anon Of a notable prince, that was called King John ; And he ruled England with maine and with might, For he did great wrong, and maintein'd little right. And He tell you a story, a story so merrye. Concerning the Abbot of Canterburye ; How for Ms house-keeping, and high renowne. They rode poste for him to fair London towno. An hundred men, the king did hoare say, The abbot kept in his house every day ; And fifty golde chaynes, without any doubt, lu velvet coates waited the abbot about How now, father abbot, I heare it of thee. Thou keepest a farre better house than mee, And for thy house-keeping and high renowne, I feare thou work'st treason against my crown. My hege, quo' the abbot, I would it were knowne, I never spend noticing but what is my owne ; And I trust your grace will doe me no deere For snending of my owne tme-gotten geere. 78 NAKEATIVE. Yes, yes, father abbot, thy fault it is highe, And now for the same thou needest must dye ; For except thou canst answer me questions three, Thy head shall be smitten from thy bodie. And first, quo' the king, when I 'm in this stead, With my crowne of golde so faire on my head, A m ong all my hege-men, so noble of bu'the, Thou must tell me to one penny what I am worthe, Secondlye, tell me, without any doubt, How soone I may ride the whole world about. And at the third question thou mu.'^t not shrink, But tell me here truly what I do thii\k. O, these are hard questions for my shallow witt, Nor I cannot answer your grace as yet ; But if you will give me but three weekc? space, Tie do my endeavour to answer your gra^v\ Now three weeks space to thee will I give, And that is the longest time thou hast to Hre ; For if thou dost not answer my questions thr«-e, Thy lands and thy livings are forfeit to mee. Away rode the abbot, all sad at that word, And he rode to Cambridge and Oxenford ; But never a doctor there was so wise, That could with his learning an answer devise. Then home rode the abbot, of comfort so cold, And he mett his shepheard agoing to fold : How now, my lord abbot, you are welcome home What newes do you bring us from good King John ' Sad newes, sad newes, shepheard, I must give : That I have but three days more to live ; For if I do not answer him questions three. My head will be smitten from my bodis. The first is to tell him there in that st-ersd, With his crowne of golde so fair on his heaA Among all his Uege-men so noble of birth. To within one penny of what he is worth NARRATIVE. 79 The seconde, to tell him, without any doubt, How soone he may ride this whole world about : And at the third question I must not shrinke, But tell him there truly what he does thinke. Now cheare up, sire abbot, did you never hear yet, That a fool he may learne a wise man witt ? Lend me horse, and serving-men, and your apparel, And I 'U ride to London to answere your quarrel Nay frowne not, if it hath bm told unto mee, I am like your lordship, as ever may bee : And if you will but lend me your gowne, There is none shall knowe us in fair London towne Now horses and serving-men thou shalt have, With sumptuous array most gallant and brave ; With crozier, and miter, and rochet, and cope, Fit to appeare 'fore our fader the pope. Now welcome, sire abbot, the king he did say, 'Tis well thou 'rt come back to keepe thy day ; For and if thou canst answer my questions three, Thy life and thy hving both saved shall bee. And first, when thou seest me here in this stead, With my crown of golde so fair on my head, Among all my liege-men so noble of birthe, Tell me to one penny what I am worth. For thirty pence our Saivour was sold Among the false Jewes, as I have bin told : And twenty-nine is the worth of thee. For I thinke, thou art one penny worser than hee. The king he laughed, and swore by St. Bittel, I did not think I had been worth so Uttel ! — Now secondly tell me, without any doubt. How soone I may ride this whole world about. You must rise with the sun, and ride with the same, Until the next morning he riseth againe ; And then your grace need not make any doubt But in twenty-four hours you '11 ride it about 80 N A 11 II A T I V E . The king he laughed, and swore by St. Jone, I did not tiiink it could be gone so soone I — Now from the third question thou must not shrinke, But tell me here truly what I do thmke. Yea, that shall I do, and make your grace merry : You tliinke I 'm the abbot of Canterbury ; But I 'm his poor shepheard, as plain you may see, That am come to beg pardon for him and for mee. The king he laughed, and swore by the masse. He make thee lord abbot this day in his place I Now naye, my Hege, be not in such speede, For alacke I can neither write, ne reade. ■-J Four nobles a week, then, I will give thee, For this merry jest thou hast showne unto mee : And tell the old abbot, when thou comest home, Thou hast brought him a pardon from good King John. THE BAFFLED KNIGHT, OR LADY'S POLICY [a vert favorite ancient ballad.] percy relique& There was a knight was drunk with wine, A riding along the way, sir; And there he met with a lady fine. Among the cocks of hay, sir. Shall you and I, lady faire. Among the grass lye down-a : And I will have a special care, Of rumpling of your gowne-a. Upon the grass there is a dewe. Will spoil my damask gowne, sir : My gowne and kirtle they are newe, And cost me many a crowne, sir. NARRATIVE. 8 J I have a cloak of scarlet red, Upon the ground I '11 throwe it ; Then, lady f aire, come lay thy head ; We '11 play, and none shall knowe it O yonder stands my steed so free Among the cocks of hay, sir, And if the pinner should chance to see, He 'U take my steed away, sir. Upon my finger I have a ring, Its made of finest gold-a, And, lady, it thy steed shall bring Out of the pinner's fold-a. O go with me to my father's hall ; Fair chambers there are three, sir : And you shall have the best of all. And I '11 your chamberlaine bee, sir. He mounted himself on his steed so tall, And her on her dapple gray, sir : And there they rode to her father's hall, Fast pricking along the way, sir. To her father's hall tliey arrived strait ; 'T was moated round about-a ; She slipped herself witliin the gate, And lockt the kniojht without-a. o Here is a silver penny to spend. And take it for your pain, sir ; And two of my father's men I '11 send To wait on you back again, sir. He from his scabbard drew his brand, And wiped it upon liis sleeve-a ! And cursed, he said, be every man, That will a maid beUeve-a ! She drew a bodldn from her haire, And wip'd it upon her gown-a ; And curs'd be every maiden faire, That will with men lye down-a I 4* 82 NARRATIVE. A herb there is, that lowly grows, Aud some do caU it rue, sir : The smallest dungliill cock that crowa, Would make a capon of you, sir. A flower there is, that shineth bright, Some call it mary-gold-a : He that wold not when he might, He shall not when he wold-a. The knight was riding another day, With cloak, and hat, and feather: He met again with that lady gay, Who was angling in the river. Now, lady faire, I 've met with you, You shall no more escape me ; Remember, how not long agoe You falsely did intrap me. He from his saddle down did light, In all his riche attyer ; And cryed, As I 'm a noble knight, I do thy charms admyer. He took the lady by the hand, Who seemingly consented ; And would no more disputing stand : She had a plot invented. Looke yonder, good sir knight, I pray, Methinks I now discover A riding upon his dapple gray. My former constant lover. On tip-toe peering stood the knight, Fast by the rivers brink-a ; The lady pusht with all her might : Sir knio'ht, now swim or sink-a. ■•) O'er head and ears he plunged in, The bc«ttom faire he sounded ; Then rising up, he cried amain. Help, helpe, or else I 'm drownded t NARRATIVE. Now, fare-you-well, sir knight, adieu ! You see what comes of fooling : That is the fittest place for you ; Your courage wanted cooling. Ere many days, in her fathers park, Just at the close of eve-a, A gain she met with her angry sparke ; Which made this lady grieve-a. False lady, here thou 'rt in ray powre, And no one now can hear tiiee : And thou shalt sorely rue the horn- That e'er thou dar'dst to jeer me. I pray, sir loiight, be not so warm With a young silly maid-a : I vow and swear I thought no harm, 'Twas a gentle jest I pia,yd-a. A gentle jest, in soothe he cry'd. To tumble me in and leave me I What if I had in the river dy'd ? That fetch will not deceive me. Once more I '11 pardon thee this day, Tho' injur' d out of measure ; But thou prepare without delay To yield thee to my pleasure. Well then, if I must grant your suit, Yet think of your boots and spurs, air : Let me pull off both spur and boot, Or else you cannot stir, sir. He set him down upon the grass. And begg'd her kind assistance : Now, smiling, thought this lovely lass, I '11 make you keep your distance. Then pulling off his boots half-way ; Sir knight, now I 'm your betters : You shall not make of me your prey ; Sit there like a knave in fetters. 84 N A E R A T 1 V E . The knight, when she had served him soe, He fretted, fum'd, and grumbled : For he could neither stand nor goe, But like a cripple tumbled. Farewell, sir knight, the clock strikes ten, Yet do not move nor stir, sir : I '11 send you my father's serving men, To pull off your boots and spurs, sir. This merry jest you must excuse, You are but a stingless nettle : You 'd never have stood for boots or shoes, Had you been a man of mettle. All night in grievous rage he lay, Rolling upon the plain-a ; Next morning a shepherd past that way, Who set him right again-a. Then mounting upon his steed so tall, By hill and dale he swore-a : I '11 ride at once to her father's hall ; She shall escape no more-a. 1 '11 take her father by the beard, I 'U challenge all her kindred ; Each dastard s-.;ul shall stand afieard ; My wrath shall no more be hindred. He roda unto her father's house. Which every side was moated : The lady hoard his furious vows. And all liis vengeance noted. Thought shee, sir knight, to quench _^our rage, Once more I will endeavour : This water shall your fury 'swage, Or else it shall burn for ever. Then faining penitence and feare, She did invite a parley : Sir knight, if you 'U forgive me heare, Henceforth I 'U love you dearly. KAKKATIVJi. bJ My father he is now from home, And I am all alone, sir : Therefore across the water come, And I am all your own, sir. False maid, thou canst no more deceive ; I scorn the treacherous bait-a ; If thou would'st have me thee believe, Now open me the gate-a. The bridge is drawn, the gate is barr'd. My father he has the keys, sir ; But I have for my love prepar'd A shorter way, and easier. Over the moate I've laid a plank FuU seventeen feet in measure. Then step across to the other bank, And there we '11 take our pleasure. These words she had no sooner spoke, But straight he came tripping over : The plank was saw'd, it snapping broke, And sous'd the unhappy lover. TRUTH AND FALSEHOOD. A TALE. MATTHEW PRIOR Once on a time, m sunshine weather. Falsehood and Truth walk'd out together. The neighboring woods and lawns to view, As opposites will sometimes do. Through many a blooming mead they passed, And at a brook arriv'd at last. The purUng stream, the margin green, With flowers bedeck'd, a vernal scene. Invited each itinerant maid, To rest a while beneath the shade. Under a spreading beach they sat. And pass'd the time with female chat ; so N A 11 II A T I V E . Whilst eaoh her character main tarn' d ; One spoke her thoughts, the other feign' d. At length, quoth Falsehood, sister Truth (For so she call'd her from her youth). What if, to shun yon sultiy beam. We bathe in this delightful stream ; The bottom smooth, the water clear, And there 's no prying shepherd near ?- - With all my heart, tlie nymph repUed, And threw her snowy robes aside, Stript herself nalied to the skin, And with a spring leapt headlong in. Falsehood more leisurely uudrest, And, laying by her tawdry vest, Trick'd herself out in Truth's array, And 'cross the meadows tript away. From tills curst hour, the fraudful dame Of sacred Truth usurps the name, And, witli a vile, perfidious mind, Roams far and near, to cheat mankind ; False sighs suborns, and artful tears, And starts with vain pretended fears ; In visits, still appears most wise. And rolls at church her saint-hke eyes ; Talks very much, plays idle tricks, While rising stock* her conscience pricks ; When being, poor thing, extremely gravel'd. The secrets op'd, and all unravel'd. But on she will, and secrets tell Of John and Joan, and Ned and Nell, Reviling every one she knows, As fancy leads, beneath the rose. Her tongue, so voluble and kind, It always runs before her mind ; As times do serve, she slyly pleads, And copious tears stUl show her needs. With promises as thick as weeds — Speaks pro and con., is wondrous civil, To-day a saint, to-morrow devil. Poor Truth she stript, as has been sadd, And naked left the lovely maid, * South Sea, 1720, NARRATIVE. 87 Who, scorning from her cause to wince, Has gone stark-naked ever since ; And ever naked w'lH. appear, Belov'd by all who Truth revere. FLATTERY. A FABLE. SIR CHARLES HANBURSr WaLIAMa Fanny, beware of flattery. Your sex's much-lov'd enemy ; For other foes we are prepar'd, And Nature puts us on our guard : In that alone such charms are found. We court the dart, we nurse the hand ; And tills, my child, an ^sop's Fable Will prove much better than I 'm able. A young vain female Crow, Had perch'd upon a pine tree's bough, And sitting there at ease, Was going to indulge her taste. In a most delicious feast. Consisting of a slice of cheese. A sharp-set Fox (a wily creature) Pass'd by that way In search of prey ; When to his nose the smell of cheese, Came in a gentle western breeze ; No Welchman knew, or lov'd it better: He bless'd th' auspicious wind. And strait look'd round to find. What might his hungry stomach fill, And quickly spied the Crow, Upon a lofty bough, Holding the tempting prize within her bill But she was perch'd too high, And Reynard could not fly : 88 N A E li A T I V K . She chose the tallest tree in all the wood, What then could bring her down ? Or make the prize his own ? Nothing but flatt'ry could. He soon the silence broke, And thus ingenious hunger spoke : " Oh, lovely bird. Whose glossy plumage oft has stirr'd The envy of the grove ; Thy form was Nature's pleasing care, So bright a bloom, so soft an air, All that behold must love. But, if to suit a form hke tliine, Thy voice be as divine ; If both in these together meet, The feather'd race must own Of all their tiibe there's none. Of form so fair, of voice so sweet. Who '11 then regard the hnnet's note. Or heed the lark's melodious throat ? What pensive lovers then shall dwell With raptures on their Philorael ? The goldfinch shall liis plumage hide, The swan abate her stately pride, And Juno's bird no more display His various glories to the sunny day : Then grant thy Suppliant's prayer. And bless my longing ear With notes that I would die to hear 1" Flattery prevail'd, the Crow believ'd The tale, and was with joy deceiv'd ; In haste to show her want of skill, She open'd wide her bill : She scream'd as if the de'el was in her Her vanity became so strong That, wrapt in her own frightful song. She quite forgot, and dropt her dinner: The morsel fell quick by the place Where Reynard lay, Who seized the prey And eat it without saying grace. NAEKA.TIVE. 89 He, sneezing, cried " The day's my own, My end's obtain'd, The prize is gain'd, And now I '11 change my note. Vain, foolish, cheated Crow, Lend your attention now, A truth or two I '11 tell you ! For, since I 've fiU'd my belly, Of course my flatt'ry's done : Think you I took such pains. And spoke so well only to hear you croak ? No, 't was the luscious bait, And a keen appetite to eat. That first inspir'd, and carried on the cheat. 'T was hunger furnish'd hands and matter, Flatterers must live by those they flatter ; But weep not, Crow; a tongue like mine Might turn an abler head than thine ; And though reflection may displease, If wisely you apply your thought. To learn the lesson I have taught, Experience, sure, is cheaply bought, And richly worth a shce of cheese." THE PIG AND MAGPIE. PETER PINDAR. Cocking his tail, a saucy prig, A Magpie hopped upon a Pig, To pull some .jdiv, forsooth, to line his nest ; And with such ease began the hair attack, As thinking the fee simple of the back Was by liimself, and not the Pig, possessed. The Boar looked up as thunder black to Mag, Who, squinting down on him like an arch wag. Informed Mynheer some bristles must be torn • Then briskly went to work, not nicely culling : Got a good handsome beakful by good pulling, 4.nd flew, without a " Thank ye" to his thorn. 90 NARRATIVE. The Pig set up a dismal yelling : Followed the robber to liis dweUing, Who like a fool had built it 'midst a bramble : In manfully he saUied, full of might, Determined to obtain his right, And 'midst the bushes now began to scramble. He drove the Magpie, tore his nest to rags, And, happy on the downfall, poured his brags : But ere he from the brambles came, alack 1 His ears and eyes were miserably torn. His bleeding hide in such a plight forlorn, He could not count ten hairs upon his back. ADVICE TO YOUNG WOMEN; OR, THE ROSE AND STRAWBERRY. PETER PINDAR. ToTJNG women I don't be fond of killing, Too well I know your hearts unwilling To hide beneath the vail a charm — Too pleased a sparkling eye to roll, And with a neck to tlirill the soul Of every swain with love's alarm. Yet, yet, if prudence be not near Its snow may melt into a tear. The dimple smile, and pouting lip, Where httle Cupids nectar sip. Are very pretty lures I own : But, ah ! if pradence be not nigh. Those lips where all the Cupids he. May give a passage to a groan. A Rose, in all the pride of bloom, Flinging around her rich perfume Her form to pubhc notice pushing. Amid the summer's golden glow Peeped on a Strawberry below. Beneath a leaf, in secret blushing. NARRATIVE. 91 " Miss Strawberry," exclaimed the Rose, " What 's beauty that no mortal knows ? What is a charm, if never seen ? You really are a pretty creature : Then wherefore hide each blooming feature ? Come up, and show your modest mien." " Miss Rose," the Strawberry replied, " I never did possess a pride That wished to dash the public eye : Indeed, I own that I 'm afraid — I think there 's safety in the shade, Ambition causes many a sigh." " Go, simple child," the Rose rejoined, " See how I wanton in the wind : I feel no danger's dread alarms : And then observe the god of day. How amorous vpith his golden ray, To pay his visits to my charms!" No sooner said, but with a scream She started from her favorite theme — A clown had on her fixed his pat. In vain she screeched — Hob did but smile ; Rubbed with her leaves his nose awhile, Then bluntly stuck her in his hat. ECONOMY. PETER PINl Economy's a very useful broom ; Yet should not ceaseless hunt about the room To catch each straggling pin to make a plumb ; Too oft Economy's an iron vice. That squeezes even the little guts of mice. That peep with fearful eyes, and ask a crumb. Proper Economy's a comely thing — Good in a subject — better in a king ; 92 NAEKATIVE. Yet pushed too far, it dulls each finer feeling- Most easily inclined to make folks mean ; Inclines them too, to viLlaiuy to lean. To over-reaching, perjury, and stealing. Even when the heart should only think of grieT It creeps into the bosom Uke a thief. And swallows up th' affections all so mild — Witness the Jewess, and her only child : — THE JEWESS AND HER SON Poor Mistress Levi had a luckless son. Who, rushing to obtain the foremost seat. In imitation of th' ambitious great. High from the gallery, ere the play begun, He fell all plump into the pit, Dead in a minute as a nit : In short, he broke his pretty Hebrew neck , Indeed and very dreadful was the wreck I The mother was distracted, raving, wild — Shrieked, tore her hair, embraced and kissed her child- Afflicted every heart with grief around : Soon as the shower of tears was somewhat past, And moderately calm th' hysteric blast. She cast about her eyes in thought profound • And being with a saving knowledge blessed. She thus the playhouse manager addressed: " Sher, I 'm de moder of de poor Chew lad, Dat meet mishfartin here so bad — Sher, I muss haf de shilling back, you know, Ass Moses haf not see de show." But as for Avarice, 'tis the very devil ; The fount, alas ! of every evil : The cancer of the heart— the worst of ills : Wherever sown, luxuriantly it thrives ; No flower of virtue near it hves : Like aconite, where'er it spreads, it kUla. NARRATIVE. 93 la every soil behold the poison spring ! Can taint the beggar, and infect the king. The mighty ^larlborough pilfered cloth and bread So says that gentle satirist Squne Pope ; And Peterborough's Earl upon this bead, Affords us httle room to hope, That what the Twitnam bard avowed, Might not be readily allowed. THE COUNTRY LASSES. PETER PINDAR. Peter lasheth the Ladies. — He turneth Story-teller. — Peter grleretb. Although the ladies with such beauty blaze. They very frequently my passion raise — Their charms compensate, scarce, their want of tast» Passing amidst the Exliibition crowd, I heard some damsels fashionahly loud ; And thus I give the dialogue that pass'd. "Oh! the dear man!" cried one, "look! here's a bonnet! He shall paint me — I am determiu'd on it — Lord ! cousin, see ! how beautiful the gown ! What charming colors I here 's fine lace, here 's gauze ! What pretty sprigs the fellow draws ! Lord, cousin 1 he's the cleverest man in town!" "Ay, cousin," cried a second, " very true — And here, here's charming green, and red, and blue I There 's a complexion beats the rouge of Warren ! See those red lips ; oh, la ! they seem so nice 1 What rosy cheeks then, cousin, to entice ! — Compar'd to this, all other heads are carrion. Cousin, this hmner quickly will be seen. Painting the Princess Royal, and the Queen : Pray, don't you think as I do, Coz ? But we 'U be painted first that's ^oz." »4 NARKATIVE. Such was the very pi-etty conversation That pass'd between the pretty misses, While unobserv'd, the glory of our nation, Close by them hung Sir Joshua's matchless pieces Works ! that a Titian's hand could form alone — Works ! that a Reubens had been proud to own. Permit me, ladies, now to lay before ye What lately happen'd — therefore a true story : — A STORY. Walking one afternoon along the Strand, My wond'ring eyes did suddenly expand Upon a pretty leash of country lasses. " Heav'ns ! my dear beauteous angels, how d'ye do ? Upon my soul I 'm monstrous glad to see ye." " Swinge I Peter, we are glad to meet with you ; We're just to London come — well, pray how be ye . " We're just a going, while 'tis light, To see St. Paul's before 'tis dark. Lord ! come, for once, be so polite, And condescend to be our spark." " With all my heart, my angels." — On we walk'd, And much of London — much of Cornwall talk'd. Now did I hug myself to think How mucli that glorious structure would surprise , How from its awful grandeur they would shrink With open mouths, and marv'hng eyes ! As near to Ludgate-Hill we drew, St. Paul's just opening on our view ; Behold, my lovely strangers, one and all, Gave, all at once, a diabohc squawl. As if they had been tumbled on the stones, And some confounded cart had crush'd their bonea. After well fright'ning people with their cries, And sticking to a ribbon-shop their eyes, NA.RRATIVE. 95 They all rush'd in, with sounds enough to stun, And claltering all together, thus begun : — " Swinge ! here are colors then, to please ! Delightful things, I vow to heav'n I Why ! not to see such things as these, We never should have been forgiv'n. " Here, here, are clever things — good Lord I And, sister, here, upon my word — Here, here ! — look ! here are beauties to dehght : Why! how a body's heels might dance Along from Launceston to Penzance, Before that one might meet witla such a sight !" "Come, ladies, 'twill be dark," cried I — "I fear. Pray let us view St. Paul's, it is so near" — " Lord! Peter," cried the girls, " don't mind St Paul I Sure 1 you're a most incurious soul — Why — we can see the church another day ; Don't be afraid — St. Paul's can't run awayT Reader, K e'er tliy bosom felt a thought sublime, Drop tears of pity with the man of rhyme 1 THE PILGRIMS AND THE PEAS. PETEK PDS'DAK. Peter cont±aaeth to give great Advice, and to exhibit deep reflection — He telietk a miraculous Story. There is a knack in doing many a thing, Which labor can not to perfection bring: Therefore, however great in your own eyes, Pray do not hints from other folks despise: A fool on something great, at times, may stumble, And consequently be a good adviser : On which, forever, your wise men may fumble, And never be a whit the wiser 96 N A K K A T I V E. Yes ! I advdse you, for there 's wisdom in 't, Never to be superior to a hint — The genius of each man, with keenness view — A spark from this, or t'other, caught, May kindle, quick as thought, A glorious bonfire up in you, A question of you let me beg — Of fam'd Columbus and his egg. Pray, have you heard? " Yes."— 0, then, if you pleass I '11 give you the two Pilgrims and the Peas. THE PILGRIMS AND THE PEAS. A TEtTE STORY. A brace of sinners, for no good, Were order'd to the Virgin Mary's shrine, "Who at Loretto dwelt, in wax, stone, wood, And in a lair white wig iook'd wondrous fine. Pifty long miles had those sad rogues to travel, With something in their shoes much worse than gravel In short, their toes so gentle to amuse. The priest had order'd poas into their shoes : A nostrum famous in old Popish times For purifying souls that stunk of crimes : A sort of apostohc salt, Which Popish parsons for its powers exalt, For keeping souls of sinners sweet, Jupt an our kitchen salt keeps meat. The knaves set off on the same day, Peas in their shoes, to go and pray : But very difif'rent was their speed, I wot: One of the sinners gallop'd on, Swift as a bullet from a gun ; The other iimp'd, as if he had been shot One saw the Virgin soon — -peccavi cried — Had his soul white-wash' d all so clever ; Then home again he nimbly hied. Made fit, with saints above, to live forever. N AE R ATI VE. 97 In comiug back, however, let me say, He met his brother rogue about half way — Hobbling, with out-stretch' d hands and bending knees; Damning the souls and bodies of the peas : His eyes in tears, his cheeks and brows in sweat, Deep syDif)athizing with his groaning feet. "How now," the light-toed, white-wash'd pUgi-im broke " You lazy lubber 1" " Ods curse it," cried the other, " 'tis no joke — My feet, once hard as any rock, Are now as soft as any blubber. " Excuse me. Virgin Mary, that I swear — As for Loretto I shall not get there ; No I to the Dev'I my sinful soul must go, For damme if I ha'nt lost ev'ry toe. " But, brother sinner, pray explain How 'tis that you are not in pain : What pow'r hath work'd a wonder for your toes : While I, just like a snail am crawling, Now swearing, now on saints devoutly bawling, While not a rascal comes to ease my woes ? ** How is't that you can like a greyhound go, Merry, as if that naught had happen' d, burn ye?" " Why," cried the other, giinning, " you must know, That just before I ventur'd on my journey, To walk a httle more at ease, I took the hberty to boU my peas.' " ON THE DEATH OF A FAVORITE CAT, DROWNED IN A TUB OF GOLDFISHES. THOMAS ORAT. 'T WAS on a lofty vase's side. Where China's gayest art had dyed The azure flowers that blow, Demurest of the tabby kind, The pensive Selima, recUned, Gazed on the lake below. 5 8S NARRATIVE. Her conscious tail her joy declared ; The fair round face, the snowy beard, The velvet of her paws, Her coat that with the tortoise vies, Her ears of jet, and emerald eyes, She saw, and purred applause. • Still had she gaz'd, but, 'midst the tide^ Two angel forms were seen to glide. The Genii of the stream : Their scaly armor's Tyrian hue. Through richest purple, to the view Betrayed a golden gleam. The hapless nymph with wonder saw . A whisker first, and then a claw, With many an ardent wish. She stretched in vain to reach the prize ; What female heart can gold despise ? What Cat 's averse to fish ? Presumptuous maid ! with looks intent, Again she stretched, again she bent, Nor knew the gulf between : (Malignant Fate sat by and smiled) The shppery verge her feet beguUed ; She tumbled headlong in. Eight times emerging from the flood, She mewed to every watery god Some speedy aid to send. No Dolphin came, no Nereid stirred. Nor cruel Tom or Susan heard : A fav'rite has no friend I From hence, ye Beauties ! undeceived. Know one false step is ne'er retrieved, And be with caution bold : Not all that tempts your wandering eyea^ And heedless hearts, is lawful prize, Nor all that ghstens gold. NARRATIVE. 99 THE RETIRED CAT. WILLIAM COWPEB A Poet's Cat, sedate and grave As poet well could wish to have, Was much addicted to inquire For nooks to which she might retire, And where, secure as mouse in chink, She might repose, or sit and think. I know not where she caught the trick ; Nature perhaps herself had cast her In such a mold philosophique, Or else she learned it of her master. Sometimes ascending, debonair, An apple-tree, or lofty pear. Lodged with convenience in the fork, She watched the gardener at liis work ; Sometimes her ease and solace sought In an old empty watering-pot. There wanting nothing, save a fan. To seem some nymph in her sedan, Appareled in exactest sort, And ready to be borne to court But love of change it seems has placft Not only in our wiser race ; Cats also feel, as well as we. That passion's force, and so did she. Her climbing, she began to find, Exposed her too much to the wind, And the old utensil of tin "Was cold and comfortless within : She therefore wished, instead of those, Some place of more serene repose, Where neither cold miafht come, nor air Too rudely wanton in her hair, And sought it in the likeliest mode Within her master's snug abode. A drawer, it chanced, at bottom lined With linen of the softest kind. 100 NARRATIVE. With such as merchants introduce From India, for the ladies' use ; A drawer, impending o'er the rest, Half open, in the topmost chest, Of depth enough, and none to spare, Invited her to slumber there ; Puss with delight beyond expression, Surveyed the scene and took possession. Recumbent at her ease, ere long. And lulled by her own humdrum song, She left the cares of life behind, And slept as she would sleep her last, When in came, housewifely incUned, The chambermaid, and shut it fast, By no maUgnity impelled, But all unconscious whom it held. Awakened by the shock (cried puss) " Was ever cat attended thus 1 The open drawer was left, I see. Merely to prove a nest for me. For soon as I was well composed, Then came the maid, and it was closed. How smooth tliose 'kerchiefs, and how sweet Oh what a dehcate retreat 1 I will resign myself to rest TOl Sol decUning in the west, Shall call to supper, when, no doubt, Susan will come, and let me out." The evening came, the sun descended, And puss remained stOl unattended. The night rolled tardily away (With her indeed 't was never day). The sprightly morn her course renewed, The evening gray again ensued, And puss came into mind no more Than if entombed the day before ; With himger pinched, and pinched for room, She now presaged approaching doom. Nor slept a single winlc, nor purred, Conscious of jeopardy incurred. NAEKATIVE. 101 That night, by chance, the poet, watching, Heard an inexplicable scratching ; His noble heart went pit-a-pat, And to himself he said—" What's that?" He drew the curtain at his side. And forth he peeped, but nothing spied. Yet, by liis ear directed, guessed Something imprisoned in the chest ; And, doubtful what, with prudent care Eesolved it should continue there. At length a voice which well he knew, A long and melancholy mew. Saluting his poetic ears. Consoled him, and dispelled his tears ; He left his bed, he trod the floor. He 'gan in haste the drawers explore. The lowest first, and without stop The next in order to the top. For 'tis a truth well know to most, That whatsoever thing is lost. We seek it, ere it come to Hght, In every cranny but the right. Forth sldpped the cat, not now replete As erst with airy self-conceit. Nor in her own fond comprehension, A theme for all the world's attention. But modest, sober, cured of all Her notions hyperbolical. And wishing for a place of rest, Any thing rather than a chest. Then stepped the poet into bed With this reflection in his head : MORAL. Beware of too sublime a sense Of your own worth and consequence. The man who dreams liimself so great And his importance of such weight. That all around in all that 's done Must move and act for him alone, Will learn in school of tribulation The folly of liis expectation. 102 NAERATIVE. SAYING NOT MEANING. WILLIAM BASIL WAKB Two gentlemen their appetite had fed, "When opening his toothpick-case, one said, " It was not uutU lately that I knew That anchovies on terra firma grew. "Grow!" cried the other, "yes, they grow, indeed, Like other fish, but not upon the land ; You might as well say grapes grow on a reed, Or in the Strand 1" " Why, sir," returned the irritated other, " My brother, When at Calcutta Beheld them hona fide growing ; He would n't utter A lie for love or money, sir ; so in Tliis matter you are thoroughly mistaken." " Nonsense, sir I nonsense I I can give no credit To the assertion — none e'er saw or read it ; Your brother, like his evidence, should be shaken." " Be shaken, sir 1 let me observe, you are Perverse — in short — " " Sir," said the other, sucking his cigar, And then his port — " If you will say impossibles are true. You may affirm just any thing you please — That swans are quadrupeds, and lions blue, And elephants inhabit Stilton cheese I Only you must not force me to believe What's propagated merely to deceive." "Then you force me to say, sir, you're a fool," Return' d the bragger. Language like this no man can suffer cool : It made the Hstener stagger ; So, thunder-stricken, he at once replied, " The traveler lied NAEKATIVE. 103 Who Lad tlie impudence to tell it you ;" " Zouuds 1 then d'ye mean to swear before my face That anchovies donH grow like cloves and mace ?" ''Idor Disputants often after hot debates Leave the contention as they found it — bone, And take to duelling or thumping UUs ; Thinking by strength of artery to atone For strength of argument ; and he who winces From force of words, with force of arms convinces I With pistols, powder, bullets, surgeons, Imt, Seconds, and smelling-bottles, and foreboding. Our friends advanced ; and now portentous loading (Their hearts already loaded) serv'd to show It might be better they shook hands — but no ; When each opines himself, though frighten' d, right, Each is, in courtesy, obhg'd to fight! And they did fight : from six full measured paces The unbeUever pulled his trigger first ; And fearing, from the braggart's ugly faces, The whizzing lead had whizz' d its very w )rst, Ran up, and with a duelistic fear (His ire evanishing lilce morning vapors), Found him possess' d of one remaining ear, Who in a manner sudden and uncouth, Had given, not lent, the other ear to truth ; For while the surgeon was applying lint, He, wriggUng, cried — " The deuce is in' "Sir I I meant — capeks 1" 104 NARRATIVE. JULIA. SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGR medio de fonte leporum Surgit amari aliquid. — Lucret. Julia was blest with beauty, wit, and grace : Small poets loved to sing her blooming face. Before her altars, lo I a numerous train Preferr'd their vows ; yet all preferr'd in vain . TiU charming Florio, born to conquer, came, And touch'd the fair one with an equal flame. The flame she felt, and iU could she conceal What every look and action would reveal. With boldness then, which seldom fails to move, He pleads the cause of marriage and of love ; The course of hymeneal joys he rounds. The lair one's eyes dance pleasure at the sounds. Naught now remain'd but " Noes" — how little meant— And the sweet coyness that endears consent. The youth upon his knees enraptured feU : — The strange misfortune, oh 1 what words can tell ? Tell ! ye neglected sylphs ! who lap-dogs guard, Why snatch'd ye not away your precious ward ? Why suffer'd ye the lover's weight to fall On the ni-fated neck of much-loved Ball ? The favorite on his mistress casts his eyes. Gives a melancholy howl, and — dies ! Sacred his ashes he, and long his rest ! Anger and grief divide poor Julia's breast. Her eyes she fix'd on guilty Florio first. On him the storm of angry grief must burst. That storm he fled : — ^he woos a kinder fair. Whose fond affections no dear puppies share. 'T were vain to teU how Juha pined away ; — Unhappy fair, that in one luckless day (From future almanacs the day be cross'd I) At once her lover and her lap-dog lost 1 NAKRATIVE. 10£ A COCK AND HEN STORY. ROBERT SOUTHET PART I. Oncb on a time three Pilgrims true, Being Father and Mother and Son, For pure devotion to the Saint, A pilgrimage begun. Their names, Httle friends, I am sorry to say. In none of my books can I find ; But the son, if you please, we '11 call Pierre, What the parents were called, never mind. From France they came, in which fair land They were people of good renown ; And they took up their lodging one night on the way In La Calzada town. Now, if poor Pilgrims they had been. And had lodged in the Hospice instead of the Inn, My good Uttle women and men. Why then you never would have heard, This tale of the Cock and the Hen. For the Innkeepers they had a daughter. Sad to say, who was just such another As Potiphar's daughter, I think, would have been If she followed the ways of her mother. This wicked woman to our Pierre Behaved hke Potiphar's wife ; And because she failed to win his love, She resolved to take his life. So she packed up a silver cup In his waUet privily ; And then, as soon as they were gone, She raised a hue and cry. 5* '06 NARRATIVE, The Pilgrims were overtaken, The people gathered round, Their wallets were searclied, and in Pierre's The silver cup was found. They dragged him before the Alcayde ; A hasty Judge was he, " The theft," he said, " was plain and proved, And hang'd the thief must be." So to the gallows our poor Pierre Was hurried instantly. If I should now relate The piteous lamentation, Which for their son these parents made, My httle friends, I am afraid You 'd weep at the relation. But Pierre in Santiago still His constant faith profess'd ; When to the gallows he was led, *"T was a short way to Heaven," he said, " Though not the pleasantest." And from their pilgrimage he charged His parents not to cease, Saying that unless they promised this, He could not be hanged in peace. They promised it with heavy hearts ; Pierre then, therewith content. Was hang'd : and they upon their way To Compostella went. PART II. Four weeks they travel'd painfully, They paid their vows, and then To La Calzada's fatal town Did they come back again. NARRATIVE. 107 The Mother would not be withlield, But go she must to see Where her poor Pierre was left to hang Upon the gallows tree. Oh tale most marvelous to hear, Most marvelous to tell I Eight weeks had he been hanging there, And yet was ahve and well I " Mother," said he, " I am glad you 're return' d. It is time I should now be released : Though I can not complain that I 'm tired, And my neck does not ache in the least. *' The Sun has not scorch'd me by day. The Moon has not chilled me by night ; ind the winds have but helped me to swintj, As if in a dream of dehght. ^o^ " Go you to the Alcayde, That hasty Judge unjust, TeU him Santiago has saved me, And take me down he must I" Now, you must know the Alcayde, Not thinking himself a great sinner, Just then at table had sate down, About to begin his dinner. Hia knife was raised to carve The dish before him then ; Two roasted fowls were laid therein, That very morning they had been A Cock and his faithful Hen. In came the Mother, wild with joy : " A miracle !" she cried ; But that most hasty Judge unjust RepeU'd her in his pride. 108 NARRATIVE. " Think not," quoth he, " to tales like this That I should give behef ! Santiago never would bestow His miracles, fuU well I know, On a Frenchman and a thief." And pointing to the Fowls, o'er wliich He held his ready knife, " As easily might I believe These bu'ds should come to life I" The good Saint would not let him thus The Motlier's true tale withstand ; So up rose tlie Fowls in the dish. And do^vvn dropt the knife from his hand. The Cock would have crow'd if he could : To cackle the Hen had a wish ; And they both slipt about in the gravy Before they got out of the dish. And when each would have open'd its eyes, For the purpose of looking about them. They saw they had no eyes to open, And that there was no seeing without them. AU this was to them a great wonder , They stagger'd and reel'd on the table ; And either to guess where they were, Or what was their plight, or how they came therC; Alas ! they were wholly unable : Because, you must know, that that morning, A thing which they thought very hard, The Cook had cut off their heads. And thrown them away in the yard. The Hen would have pranked up her feathers. But plucking had sadly deform'd her ; And for want of them she would have shiver' d with cold. If the roastins: she had had not warm'd her. NARRATIVE, 109 And the Cock felt exceedingly queer ; He thought it a very odd thing That his head and his voice were he did not know where, And his gizzard tuck'd under his wing. The gizzard got into its place, But how Santiago knows best : And so, by the help of the Saint, Did the liver and all the rest. The heads saw their way to the bodies. In they came from the yard without check, And each took its own proper station, To the very great joy of the neck. And in flew the feathers, Mke snow in a shower, For they all became white on the way ; And the Cock and the Hen in a trice were refledged, And then who so happy as they 1 Cluck I cluck ! cried the Hen right merrily then, The Cock his clarion blew. Full glad was he to hear again His own cock-a-doo-del-doo I PART III. " A MIRACLE ! a miracle I" The people shouted, as they might well, When the news went through the town , And every chUd and woman and man Took up the cry, and away they ran To see Pierre taken down. They made a famous procession* My good little women and men. Such a sight was never seen before, And I think wiU never again. no NARRATIVE. Santiago's Image, large as life, Wont first with banners and drum and fife j And next, as was most meet, The twice-born Cock and Hen were borne Along the thronging street. Perched on a cross-pole hoisted high, They were raised in sight of the crowd ; And when the people set up a cry. The Hen she cluck' d in sympathy. And the Cock he crow'd aloud. And because they very well knew for why They were carried in such solemnity, And saw the Saint and his banners before 'em, They behaved with the greatest propriety. And most correct decorum. The Knife, which had cut off their heads that mom. Still- red with their innocent blood, was borne, The scullion boy he carried it ; And the SkeAvers also made part of the show. With which they were truss'd for the spit. The Cook in triumph bore that Spit As high as he was able ; And the Dish was display'd waerein they were laid When they had been served at table. With eager faith the crowd prest round ; There was a scramble of women and men For who should dip a finger-tip In the blessed Gravy then. Next went tlie Alcayde, beating his breast, Crying aloud like a man distrest. And amazed at the loss of his dinner, " Santiago, Santiago ! Have mercy on me a sinner I" NARRATIVE. Ill And lifting oftentimes his hands Toward the Cock and Hen, " Oraie pro nobis /" devoutly he cried, And as devoutly the people repUed, Whenever he said it, "Amen!" The Father and Mother were last in the train; Rejoicingly they came, And extoU'd, with tears of gratitude, Santiago's glorious name. So, with all honors that might be, They gently unhang' d Pierre ; No hurt or harm had he sustain' d, But, to make the wonder clear, A deep biack halter-mark remain'd Just under his left ear. PART IV. And now, my little listening dears With open mouths and open ears, Like a rhymer whose only art is That of telling a plain unvarnish'd tale, To let you know I must not fail. What became of all the parties. Pierre went on to Compostella To finish his pilgrimage, His parents went back with him joyfully, After which they returned to their own country , And there, I believe, that all the three Lived to a good old age. For the gaUows on which Pierre So happily had swung, It was resolved that never more On it should man be hung. 112 NARRATIVE. To the Church it was transplanted, As ancient books declare : And the people in commotion, With an uproar of devotion, Set it up for a reHc there. What became of the halter I know not) Because the old books show not ; But we may suppose and hope. That the city presented Pierre With that interesting rope. For in his family, and this The Corporation knew, It rightly would be valued more Than any cordon bleu. The Innkeeper's wicked daughter Confess'd what she had done, So they put her in a Convent, And she was made a Nun. The Alcayde had been so frighten'd That he never ate fowls again ; And he always puUed off his hat When he saw a Cock and Hen. Wherever he sat at table Not an egg might there be placed ; And he never even muster'd courage for a custard, Though garUc tempted him to taste Of an omelet now and then. But always after such a transgression He hastened away to make confession ; And not till he had confess'd, And the Priest had absolved him, did he feel His conscience and stomach at rest. The twice-born Birds to the Pilgrim's Church As by miracle consecrated, Were given ; and there unto the Saint They were publicly dedicated. BURNS. NARRATIVK. 113 At their dedication the Corporation A fund for their keep supplied ; And after following the Saint and his banners, This Cock and Hen were so changed in then mannei'S, That the Priests were edified. Gentle as any turtle-dove, Saint Cock became all meekness and love ; Most dutiful of wives, Saint Hen she never peck'd again. So they led happy lives. The ways of ordinary fowls You must know they had clean forsaken; And if every Cock and Hen in Spain Had their example taken, Why then — the Spaniards would have had No eggs to eat with bacon. These blessed Fowls, at seven years end, In the odor of sanctity died : They were carefully pluck'd and then They were buried, side by side. And lest the fact should be forgotten (Which would have been a pity), 'T was decreed, in honor of their worth. That a Cock and Hen should be borne thenceforth, In the arms of that ancient City. Two eggs Saint Hen had laid — no more — The chickens were her delight ; A Cock and Hen they proved. And both, like their parents, were virtuous and white. The last act of the Holy Hen Was to rear this precious brood; and when Saint Cock and she were dead. This couple, as the lawful heirs, Succeeded in their stead. •14 NARRATIVE. They also lived seven years, And they laid eggs but two, From which two milk-white cliickens To Cock and Henhood grew ; And always their posterity The self-same course pursue. Not one of these eggs ever addled, (With wonder be it spoken !) Not one of them ever was lost, Not one of them ever was broken. Sacred they are ; neither magpie nor rat, Snake, weasel, nor marten approaching them: And woe to the irreverent wretch Who should even dream of poaching them I Thus then is this great miracle Continued to tliis day ; And to their Church all Pilgrims go, When they are on the way ; And some of the feathers are given them ; For which they always pay. No price is set upon them. And tills leaves aU persons at ease ; The Poor give as much as they can. The Rich as much as they please. But that the more they give the better, Is very well understood ; Seeing whatever is thus disposed of, Is for their own souls' good; For Santiago will always Befriend his true believers ; And the money is for liim, the Priests Being only his receivers. To make the miracle the more. Of these feathers there is always store, NAEBATIVE. 115 And all are genuine too; All of the original Cock and Hen, Wliich the Priests will swear is true. Thousands a thousand times told have bought them, And if myriads and tens of myriads sought them, They would stiU find some to buy ; For however great were the demand, So great would be the supply. And if any of you, my small friends, Should visit those parts, I dare say You will luring away some of the feathers, And think of old Robin Gray. THE SEARCH AFTER HAPPINESS; OR, THE QUEST OF SULTAUN SOLIMAUN. SIR WALTER SCOTT. Oh, for a glance of that gay Muse's eye, That Ugh ten' d on Bandello's laughing tale, And twinkled with a luster shrewd and sly. When Giam Batttista bade her vision hail ! — Yet fear not, ladies, the naive detail Given by the natives of that land canorous ; Italian Hcense loves to leap the pale, We Britons have the fear of shame before us, And, if not wise in mirth, at least must be decoroua. In the far eastern clime, no great while since. Lived Sultaun Solimaun, a mighty prince, Whose eyes, as oft as they perform'd their round, Beheld all others fix'd upon the ground ; Whose ears received the same unvaried phrase, " Sultaun ! thy vassal hears, and he obeys I" All have their tastes — this may the fancy strike Of such grave folks as pomp and grandeur like ; For me, I love the honest heart and warm Of monarch who can amble round lais farm, Or when the toil of state no more annoys, In chimney corner seek domestic joys — 116 NARRATIVE. I love a prince will bid the bottle pass, Exchanging with his subjects glance and glass ; In fitting time, can, gayest of the gay, Keep up the jest, and mingle in the lay — Such Monarchs best our free-born humors suit, But Despots must be stately, stern, and mute. This Solimaun, Serendib had in sway — And where 's Serendib ? may some critic say — Good lack, mine honest friend, consult the chart, Scare not my Pegasus before I start ! If RenneU has it not, you'U find, mayhap. The isle laid down in Captain Sinbad's map — Famed mariner I whose merciless narrations Drove every friend and kinsman out of patience, TUl, fain to find a guest who thought them shorter, He deign'd to tell them over to a porter — The last edition see, by Long and Co., Eees, Hurst, and Orme, our fathers in the Row. Serendib found, deem not my tale a fiction — This Sultaun, whether lacking contradiction — (A sort of stimulant which hath its uses. To raise the spirits and reform the juices, — Sovereign specific for aU sorts of cures In my wife's practice, and perhaps in yours). The Sultaun lacking this same wholesome bitter, Of cordial smooth for prince's palate fitter — Or if some Mollah had hag-rid his dreams With Degial, Ginnistan, and such wild themes Belonging to the MoUah's subtle craft, I wot not — but the Sultaun never laugh'd, Scarce ate or drank, and took a melancholy That scorn' d all remedy profane or holy; In his long hst of melanchoHes, mad. Or mazed, or dumb, hath Burton none so bad. Physicians soon arrived, sage, ware, and tried, As e'ei scrawl'd jargon in a darken'd room ; With heedful glance the Sultaun's tongue they eyed, Peep'd in his bath, and God knows where beside, And then in solemn accent spoke their doom. NARRATIVE. 117 "His majesty is very far from well." Then each to work with his specific fell ; The Hakim Ibrahim instanter brought His nngnent Mahazzim al Zerdukkaut, While Roompot, a practitioner more wily, Rehed on his Munaskif all fiUfily. More ami yet more in deep array appear, And some the fi-ont assail, and some the rear ; Their remedies to reinforce and vary, Came surgeon eke, and eke apothecary ; Till the tired Monarch, though of words grown chary, Yet dropt, to recompense their fruitless labor, Some hint about a bowstring or a saber. There lack'd, I promise you, no longer speeches, To rid the palace of those learned leeches. Then was the council call'd — by their advice (They deem'd the matter ticklish all, and nice. And sought to sliift it off from their own shouldera) Tartars and couriers in all speed were sent, To call a sort of Eastern Parliament Of feudatory chieftains and freeholders — Such have the Persians at this very day. My gallant Malcolm calls them couronltai; — I 'm not prepared to show in this slight song That to Serendib the same forms belong — E'en let the learn'd go search, and tell me if I'm wrong. The Omrahs, each with hand on scimitar. Gave, hke Sempronius, stUl their voice for war — "The saber of the Sultaun in its sheath Too long has slept, nor own'd the work of death ; Let the Tambourgi bid his signal rattle, Bang the loud gong, and raise the shout of battle ( This dreary cloud that dims our sovereign's day, Shall from his kindled bosom flit away, "When the bold Lootie wheels his courser round, And the arm'd elephant shall shake the ground. Each noble pants to own the glorious summons — And for the charges — Lo ! your faitliful Commons I" 118 NARRATIVE. The Riots who attended in their places (Serendib language calls a farmer Eiot) Look'd ruefully in one another's faces, From this oration auguring much disquiet, Double assessment, forage, and free quarters ; And fearing these as China-men the Tartars, Or as the whisker'd vermin fear the mousers, Each fumbled in the pockets of his trowsers. And next came forth the reverend Convocation, Bald heads, white beards, and many a turban green, Imaum and MoUah there of every station, Santon, Fakir, and Calendar were seen. Their votes were various — some advised a Mosque With fitting revenues should be erected, With seemly gardens and with gay Kiosque, To create a band of priests selected ; Others opined that through the realms a dole Be made to holy men, whose prayers might profit The Sultaun's weal in body and in soul. But their long-headed chief, the Sheik Ul-Sofit, More closely touch'd the point ; — " Thy studious mood," Quoth he, '• Prince ! hath thicken'd all thy blood, And dull'd thy brain with labor beyond measure ; Wherefore relax a space and take thy pleasure. And toy with beaury, or tell o'er thy treasure ; From all the cares of state, my Liege, enlai-ge thee, And leave the burden to thy faithful clergy." These counsels sage availed not a whit, And so the patient (as is not uncommon Where grave physicians lose their time and witj Resolved to take advice of an old woman ; 5is mother she, a dame who once was beauteous, And still was called so by each subject duteous. Now whether Fatima was witch in earnest, Or only made believe, I can not say — But she profess'd to cure disease the sternest. By dint of magic amulet or lay ; And, when all other skill in vain was shown, She deem'd it fitting time to use her own. •'o NARRATIVE. 110 " Sympathia magica hath wonders done" (Thus did old Fatima bespeak her son), " It works upon the fibers and the pores, And thus, insensibly, our liealth restores, And it must help us here. — Thou must endure The ill, my son, or travel for the cure. Search land and sea, and get, where'er you can, The inmost vesture of a happy man : I mean his shirt, my son ; which, taken warm Ajid fresh from off his back, shall chase your harm, Bid every current of your veins rejoice, And your dull heart leap Ught as shepherd-boy's." Such was the counsel from his mother came ; — I know not if she had some under-game, As doctors have, who bid their patients roam And live abroad, when sure to die at home ; Or if she thought, that, somehow or another, Queen-Regent sounded better than Queen-Mother ; But, says the Chronicle (who Avill go look it ?) That such was her advice — the Sultaun took it. All are on board — the Sultaun and his train, In gilded galley prompt to plow the main. The old Rais was the first who question'd, " Whither? Q'hey paused — " Arabia," thought the pensive Prince, " Was call'd The Happy many ages since — For Mokha, Rais." — And they came safely thither. But not in Araby, with all her balm, Not where Judea weeps beneath her palm, Not in rich Egypt, not in Nubian waste. Could there the step of Happiness be traced. One Copt alone profess'd to have seen her smUe When Bruce his goblet fiU'd at infant Nile : She bless'd the dauntless traveler as he quaff'd Bu vanish'd from him with the ended draught. " Enough of turbans," said the weary King, "These doUmans of ours are not the thing; Try we the G-iaours, these men of coat and cap, I Incline to think some of them must be happy ; At least they have as fair a cause as any can. They drink good wine and keep no Ramazan. 120 NAKUATIVE. Then northward, ho !" — The vessel cuts the so%, And fair ItaUa Ues upon her lee. — But fair Italia, she who once unfurl'd Her eagle-banners o'er a conquer'd world, Long from her throne of domination tumbled, Lay, by her quondam vassals, sorely humbled, The Pope himself look'd pensive, pale, and lean, And was not half the man he once had been. " While these the priest and those the noble fleeces, Our poor old boot," they said, " is torn to pieces. Its tops the vengeful claws of Austria feel. And the Great Devil is rending toe and heel. If happiness you seek, to tell you truly, We tliink she dwells with one Griovanni Bulli ; A tramontane, a heretic — the buck, PofFaredio ! still has all the luck ; By land or ocean never strikes lais flag — And then — a perfect walking money-bag." Off set our Prince to seek John Bull's abode, But first took France — it lay upon the road. Monsieur Baboon, after much late commotion. Was agitated like a setthng ocean, Quite out of sorts, and could not tell what ail'd him, Only the glory of his house had fail'd him ; Besides, some tumors on his noddle biding. Gave indication of a recent hiding. Our Prince, though Sultauns of such things are heedless, Thought it a thing indeUcate and needless To ask, if at that moment he was happy. And Monsieur, seeing that he was comme il faut^ a Loud voice muster'd up, for " Vive le Roi /" Then whisper'd, " 'Ave you any news of Nappy ?" The Sultaun answer'd him with a cross question — "Pray, can you tell me aught of one John Bull, That dwells somewhere beyond your herring-pool ?'* The query seem'd of diflicult digestion, The party shrugg'd, and grinn'd, and took his snuff, And found Ins whole good-breeding scarce enough. Twitching his visage into as many puckers As damsels wont to put into their tuckers NARRATIVE. 121 (Ere liberal Pashion damn'd both lace and lawn, And bade the vail of modesty be drawn), Replied the Frenchman, after a brief pause, " Jean Bool ! — I vas not know him — yes. I vas- - T vas remember dat, von yea? or two, I saw him at von place call'd Vaterloo — Ma foi 1 il s'est tres joliment battu, Dat is for Englishman — m'entendez-vous ? But den he had wit him one damn son-gun, Rogue I no like — dey call him Vellington." Monsieur's politeness could not hide liis fret, So Soiimaun took leave, and cross'd the strait. John Bull was in his very worst of moods, Raving of sterile farms and unsold goods ; His sugar -loaves and bales about he threw. And on his counter beat the devil's tattoo. His wars were ended, and the victory won, But then, 't was reckoning-day with honest John ; And authors vouch, 'twas still tliis Worthy's way, " Never to grumble till he came to pay ; And then he always thinks, his temper's such, The work too little, and the pay too much." Yet grumbler as he is, so kind and hearty. That when his mortal foe was on the floor, And past the power to harm his quiet more, Poor John had well-nigh wept for Bonaparte I Such was the wight whom Soiimaun salam'd — *' And who are you," John answer'd, " and be d — d T " A stranger come to see the happiest man — So, signior, all avouch — in Frangistan.' — " Happy ? my tenants breaking on my Yisrt': ; Unstock'd my pastures, and untill'd my land ; Sugar and rum a drug, and mice and moths The sole consumers of my good broadcloths — Happy ? — why, cursed war and racking tax Have left us scarcely raiment to our backs." — " In that case, signior, I may take my leave; I came to ask a favor — but I gi-ieve." — " Favor ?" said John, and eyed the Sultaun hard, " It's my belief you came to break the yard I— 6 J 22 NARUATIVE. But, stay, you look like some poor foreign sinner — Take that to buy yourself a shirt and dinner." — With that he chuck'd a guinea at his head ; But, with due dignity, the Sultaun said, " Permit me, sir, your bounty to decline ; A shirt indeed I seek, but none of thine. Signior, I kiss your hands, so fare you well," — " Kiss and be d— d," quoth John, " and go to hell!' Next door to John there dwelt his sister Peg, Once a wild lass as ever shook a leg When the blithe bagpipe blew — but, soberer now. She doucely span her flax and milk'd her cow. And whereas erst she was a needy slattern. Nor now of wealth or cleanliness a pattern, Yet once a month her house was partly swept, And once a week a plenteous board she kept. And, whereas, eke, the vixen used her claws And teeth of yore, on slender provocation. She now was grown amenable to laws, A quiet soul as any in the nation ; The sole remembrance of her warlike joys Was in old songs she sang to please her boys. John Bull, whom, ui their years of early strife, She wont to lead a cat-and-doggish Ufe, Now found the woman, as he said, a neighbor. Who look'd to the main chance, declined no labor, Loved a long grace, and spoke a northern jargon. And was d — d close in making of a bargain. The Sultaun enter'd, and he made his leg. And with decorum courtesy'd sister Peg ; (She loved a book, and knew a thing or two. And guess'd at once with whom she had to do). She bade him " Sit into the fire," and took Her dram, her cake, her kebbuck from the nook; Ask'd him "About the news from Eastern parts ; And of her absent bairns, puir Highland hearts I If peace brought down the price of tea and pepper, And if the nitmugs were grown ony cheaper ; — Were there nae speerings of our Mungo Park — Ye '11 be the gentleman that wants the sark ? NAKRATIVE. 123 If ye wad buy a web o' auld wife's spinning, I '11 warrant ye it's a weel-wearing linen." Then up got Peg, and round the house 'gan scuttle In search of goods her customer to nail, Until the Sultaun strain'd his princely throttle And hallo'd — " Ma'am, that is not what I aiL Pray, are you happy, ma'am, in this snug glen ?" — "Happy ?" said Peg; " What for d'ye want to ken? Besides, just think upon this by-gane year, Grain wadna pay the yoking of the pleugh." — " What say you to the present ?" — " Meal's sae dear, To make their brose my bairns have scarce aneugh."-=" *•' The devil take the shirt," said SoUmaun, " I tliink my quest will end as it began. — Farewell, ma'am ; nay, no ceremony, I beg" — '■' Ye '11 no be for the Unen then?" said Peg. Now, for the land of verdant Erin, The Sultaun's royal bark is steering, The Emerald Isle, where honest Paddy dwells, The cousin of John Bull, as story tells. For a long space had John, with words of thunder Hard looks, and harder knocks, kept Paddy under, Till the poor lad, like boy that's flogg'd unduly, Had gotten somewhat restive and unruly. Hard was his lot and lodging, you '11 allow, A wigwam that would hardly serve a sow ; His landlord, and of middle men two brace. Had screw'd his rent up to the starving-place ; His garment was a top-coat, and an old one, His meal was a potato, and a cold one ; But still for fun or frolic, and all that. In the round world was not the match of Pat. The Sultaun saw him on a holiday. Which is with Paddy still a jolly day ; When mass is ended, and his load of sins Confess' d, and Mother Church hath from her biniw Dealt forth a bonus of imputed merit, Then is Pat's time for fancy, whim, and spirit! To jest, to sing, to caper fair and free. And dance as light as leaf upon the tree. 124 NARRATIVE. " By Mahomet," said Sultaun Solimaun, " That ragged fellow is our very man ! Rush in and seize him — do not do him hurt, But, will he nill he, let me have his shirt." Shilela their plan was well-nigh after baulking (Much less provocation will set it a-walking), But the odds that foil'd Hercules foil'd Paddy Whack; Q''hey seized, and they floor'd, and they stripp'd him — ^Akck Up-bubboo I Paddy had not — a shirt to his back 1 1 1 And the King, disappointed, with sorrow and shaine, Went back to Serendib as sad as he came. THE DONKEY AND HIS PANNIERS. TUOMAS MOORE, A DONKEY whose talent for burden was wondrous, So much that you 'd swear he rejoiced in a load, One day had to jog under panniers so pond'rous, That — down the poor donlcey fell, smack on the road. His owners and drivers stood round in amaze — What ! Neddy, the patient, the prosperous Neddy So easy to drive through the dirtiest ways. For every description of job-work so ready ! One driver (whom Ned might have " hail'd" as a " brother") Had just been proclaiming his donkey's renown. For vigor, for spirit, for one thing or other — When, lo I 'mid his praises, the donkey came down. But, how to upraise him? — one shouts, t'other whistles, While Jenky, the conjurer, wisest of all. Declared that an " over-production" of thistles — (Here Ned gave a stare) — was the cause of his fall. 4.nother wise Solomon cries, as he passes — " There, let him alone, and the fit will soon cease ; The beast has been fighting with other jack-asses, And this is his mode of ' transition to peace.' " NARRATIVE. l'2i Some look'd at his hoofs, and, with learned grimaces. Pronounced that too long without shoes he had gone — " Let the blacksmith provide him a sound metal basis (The Aviseacres said), and he 's sure to jog on.' But others who gabbled a jargon half Gaelic, Exclaim' d, " Hoot awa, mon, you 're a' gane astray" — And declared that " whoe'er might prefer the metallic, They 'd shoe their own donkeys with papier Tuache." Meanwhile the poor Neddy, in torture and fear, Lay under his panniers, scarce able to groan. And, what was still dolefuler — lending an ear To advisers whose ears were a match for liis own. At length, a plain rustic, whose wit went so far As to see others' folly, roar'd out as he pass'd — " Quick — off with the panniers, all dolts as ye are. Or your prosperous Neddy will soon kick his last." MISADVENTURES AT MARGATE. A LEGEND OF JARVIs's JETTY. R. HARRIS BARHAM. MR. SIMPKINSON (loquituv). J. WAS in Margate last July, I walk'd upon the pier, I saw a little vulgar Boy — I said " What make you here r' — The gloom upon your youtliful cheek speaks any thing but joy;' Again I said. " What make you here, you httle vulgar Boy ?" He frown'd, that Uttle vulgar Boy — ho deem'd I meant to scoff— And when the Uttle heart is big, a httle " sets it off;" He put his finger in his mouth, his little bosom rose, — He had no little handkerchief to wipe his little nose ! "Hark! don't you hear, my little man? — it's striking nine," I said, " An hour when aU good little boys and girls should be in bed. Run home and get your supper, else your Ma' will scold — Oh ' fie!— It's very vsrrong indeed for little boys to stand and cry I" 126 NARRATI\K. The tear-drop in his httle eye again began to spring,- His bosom throbb'd with agony — he cried like any thing ! I stoop'd, and thus amidst his sobs I heard him murmm- — " All ! I haven't got no supper ! and I haven't got no Ma' I 1 — " My father, he is on the seas, — my mother 's dead and gone I And I am here, on this here pier, to roam the world alone ; I have not had, this live-long day, one drop to cheer my heart, Nor ' hrown' to buy a bit of bread with, — let alone a tart. " If tliere 's a soul will give me food, or find me in employ. By day or night, then blow me tight !" (he was a vulgar Boy;) " And now I 'm here, from this here pier it is my fixed intent To jump, as Mr. Levi did from off the Monu-ment !" " Cheer up ! cheer up I my httle man — cheer up 1" I kindly said, You are a naughty boy to take such things into your head : If you should jump from ofi" the pier, you 'd surely break your legs. Perhaps your neck — then Bogey 'd have you, sure as eggs are eggs I " Come home with me, my httle man, come home with me and sup; My landlady is Mrs. Jones — we must not keep her up — There 's roast potatoes on the fire, — enough for me and you — Come home, — you httle vulgar Boy — I lodge at Number 2." I took him home to Number 2, the house beside " The Foy," I bade him wipe his dirty shoes^ — that little vulgar Boy, — And then I said to Mistress Jones, the kindest of her sex, " Pray be so good as go and fetch a pint of double X I" But Mrs. Jones was rather cross, she made a httle noise. She said she " did not like to wait on httle vulgar Boys." She with her apron wiped the plates, and, as she rubb'd the delfj Said I might " go to Jericho, and fetch my beer myself!" I did not go to Jericho — I went to Mr. Cobb — I changed a shilling — (which in town the people call " a Bob")— It was not so much for myself as for that vulgar child — And I said, " A pint of double X, and please to draw it mild I" NARRATl VE. 127 Wlien I came back I gazed about — I gazed on stool and chair — I could not see my little friend — because he was not there 1 I peep'd beneath the table-cloth — beneath the sofa too— I said " You little vulgar Boy I why what's become of you?" I could not see my table-spoons — I look'd, but could not see The little fiddle-pattern'd ones I use when I 'm at tea ; — I could not see my sugar-tongs — my sOver watch — oh, dear ! I know 't was on the mantle-piece when I went out for beer I could not see my Mackintosh ! — it was not to be seen ! Nor yet my best white beaver hat, broad-brinim'd and hned with green ; My carpet-bag — my cruet-stand, that holds my sauce and soy, — My roast potatoes ! — all are gone ! — and so 's that vulgar Boy ! I rang the beU for Mrs. Jones, for she was down below, " — Oh, Mrs. Jones! what do you think ? — ain't tliis a pretty go ? — That horrid little vulgar Boy whom I brought here to-night, — He's stolen my things and run away! !" — Says she, "Aud sarve you right ! !" ******* Next morning I was up betimes — I sent the Crier round. All with his bell and gold-laced hat, to say I 'd give a pound To find that httle vulgar Boy, who 'd gone and used me so; But when the Crier cried " Yes !" the people cried, " Nol" I went to " Jarvis' Landing-place," the glory of the town. There was a common sailor-man a-walking up and down ; I told my tale — he seem'd to think I 'd not been treated well, And called me " Poor old Buffer !" what that means I cannot telL That sailor-man, he said he 'd seen that morning on the shore, A son of — something — 't was a name I 'd never heard before, A. Uttle " gaUows-looking chap" — dear me ; what could he mean ? With a " carpet-swab" and " muckingtogs," and a hat turned up with green. He spoke about his "precious eyes," and said he'd seen hini " sheer," — ^It 's very odd that sailor-men should talk so very queer — And then he hitch'd his trowsers up, as is, I 'm told, their use, — It 's very odd that sailor-men should wear those tilings so loose. 128 NARRATIVE. I did not understand him -well, but think he meant to say He 'd seen that little vulgar Boy, that morning swim away In Captain Large's Royal George about an hour before, And they were now, as he supposed, " s,ojnewheres" about me Nore. A landsman said, " I hvig the chap — he 's been upon the Mill — And 'cause he gammons so the flats, ve calls him Veeping Bill !" He said "he'd done me wery brown," and "nicely stow'd the swag." — That 's French, I fancy, for a hat — or else a carpet-bag. I went and told the constable my property to track ; He asked me if " I did not wish that I might get it back ?" I answered, " To be sure I do ! — it 's what I come about." He smiled and said, " Sir, does your mother know that you are out ?" Not knowing what to do, I thought I 'd hasten back to town, And beg our own Lord Mayor to catch the Boy who 'd " done me brown." His Lordship very kindly said he 'd try and find him out. But he " rather thought that there were several vulgar boy3 about." He sent for Mr. Whithair then, and I described " the swag," My Mackintosh, my sugar-tongs, my spoons, and carpet-bag ; He promised that the New Police should all their powers employ; Bat never to this hour have I beheld that vulgar Boy ! MORAL. Remember, then, what whe-n a boy I 've heard my Grandma' teU, " Be warn'd in time by others' harm, and you shall do full well!" Don't link yourself with vulgar folks, who 've got no fix'd abode, Tell lies, use naughty words, and say they " wish they may be biow'd !" Don't take too much of double X ! — and don't at night go out To fetch your beer yourself, but make the pot-boy bring youi stout ! And when you go to Margate next, just stop and ring the bell, Give my respects to Mrs. Jones, and say I 'm pretty well 1 N A R 11 A Tl V K. 129 THE GHOST. R. HARRIS BARHAM. There stands a City, — neither large nor small, Its air and ?ituation sweet and pretty ; It matters very little — if at all — Whether its denizens are dull or witty, Whether the ladies there are short or tall, Brunettes or blondes, only, there stands a city 1 — Perhaps 'tis also requisite to minute That there's a Castle, and a Cobbler in it. A fair Cathedral, too, the story goes, And kings and heroes lie entombed within her; There pious Saints, in marble pomp repose, Whose shrines are worn by knees of many a Sinner; There, too, full many an Aldermanic nose Roll'd its loud diapason after dinner ; And there stood high the holy sconce of Becket, — Till four assassins came from France to crack it. The Castle was a huge and antique mound, Proof against all th' artillery of the quiver, Ere those abominable guns were found. To send cold lead through gallant warrior's liver. It stands upon a gently rising ground, Sloping down gradually to the river. Resembling (to compare great things with smaller) A well-scooped, moldy Stilton cheese — but taller. The Keep, I find, 's been sadly alter'd lately. And 'stead of mail-clad knights, of honor jealous, In martial panoply so grand and stately. Its walls are filled with money-making fellows. And stuffd, unless I 'm misinformed greatly, With leaden pipes, and coke, and coal, and bellows; In short, so great a change has come to pass, 'Tis now a manufiictory of CJ-as. 6* loO NARRATIVE. But to my tale. — Before this profanation, And ore its ancient glories were cut short all, A poor hard-working Cobbler took his station In a small house, just opposite the portal ; His birth, Lis parentage, and education, I know but httle of — a strange, odd mortal ; His aspect, air, and gait, were aU ridiculous ; His name was Mason — ^he 'd been christened Nicholas Nick had a wife possessed of many a charm, And of the Lady Huntingdon persuasion ; But, spite of all her piety, her arm She 'd sometimes exercise when in a passion ; And, being of a temper somewhat warm. Would now and then seize, upon small occasion, A stick, or stool, or any thing that round did lie. And baste her lord and master most confoundedly. No matter ; — 'tis a thing that's not uncommon, 'Tis what we all have heard, and most have read of,-^ I mean, a bruising, pugilistic woman. Such as I own I entertain a dread of, — And so did Nick, — whom sometimes there would come on A sort of fear his Spouse might knock his head off, Demohsh half his teeth, or drive a rib in. She shone so much in " facers" and in " fibbing." *' There 's time and place for all things," said a sage (Kjng Solomon, I think), and this I can say, Within a weU-roped ring, or on a stage, Boxing may be a very pretty Fancy, When Messrs. Burke or Bendigo engage ; — 'Tis not so well in Susan or in Nancy : — To get well mill'd by any one's an evil. But by a lady — 'tis the very Devil. And so thought Nicholas, whose only trouble (At least his worst) was this, his rib's propensity ; For sometimes from the ale-house he would hobble, His senses lost in a sublime immensity Of cogitation — then he could n't cobble — And then his wife would often try the density Of his poor skull, and strike with all her might, As fast as kitchen wenches strike a hght. NAIIKATIVE. 131 Mason, meek soul, who ever hated strife, Of this same striking had a morbid dread, He hated it like poison — or his wife — A vast antipathy I — ^but so he said — And very often, for a quiet life. On these occasions he 'd sneak up to bed, G-rope darkling in, and soon as at the door He heard his lady — he 'd pretend to snore. One night, then, ever partial to society, Nick, with a friend (another jovial fellow), Went to a Club — I should have said Society — At the " City Arms," once call'd the " Porto Bello ;" A Spouting party, which, though some decry it, I Consider no bad lounge when one is mellow ; There they discuss the tax on salt, and leather, And change of ministers and change of weather. In short, it was a kind of British Forum, Like John Grale Jones', erst in Piccadilly, Only they managed things with more decorum, And the Orations were not quite so silly ; Far different questions, too, would come before 'em Not always poUtics, which, will ye nUl ye, Their London prototypes were always wUhng, To give one qvAintum suff. of — for a shilling. It more resembled one of later date. And tenfold talent, as I 'm told, in Bow-street, Where kindlier nurtured souls do congregate. And, though there are who deem that same a low street, Yet, I 'm assured, for froUcsome debate And genuine humor it 's surpassed by no street, Whpn the "Chief Baron" enters, and assumes To '' rule" o'er mimic " Thesigers" and " Broughams." Here they would oft forget their Rulers' faults, And waste in ancient lore the midnight taper, Inquire if Orpheus first produced the Waltz, How Gas-lights differ from the Delphic Vapor. Whether Hippocrates gave Glauber's Salts, And what the Romans wrote on ere they'd paper ,- This night the subject of their disquisitions Was Ghosts, Hobgoblins, Sprites, and Apparitions. .'- N A R R A T I V Ji. One learned gentleman, " a sage grave man," Talk'd of the Ghost in Hamlet, " sheath'd in steel :"— « His well-read friend, who next to speak began, Sail], " That was Poetry, and nothing real :" A third, of more extensive learning, ran To Sir George Villiers' Ghost, and Mrs. Veal ; Of sheeted Specters spoke with shorten'd breath, And thrice he quoted " Drelincourt on Death." Nick, smoked, and smoked, and trembled as he heard The point discuss'd, and all they said upon it, How frequently some murder'd man appear'd, To tell his wife and children who had done it; Or how a Miser's Ghost, with grisly beard, And pale lean visage, in an old Scotch bonnet, Wander'd about to watch his buried money ! When all at once Nick heard the clock strike One — he Sprang from his seat, not doubting but a lecture Impended from his fond and faithful She ; Nor could he well to pardon hira expect her, For he had promised to "be home to tea;" But having luckily the key o' the back door, He fondly hoped that, unperceived, he Might creep up stairs again, pretend to doze. And hoax his spouse with music from hLs nose. Vain fruitless hope ! — The wearied sentinel At eve may overlook the crouching foe. Till, ere his hand can sound the alarum-bell. He sinks beneath the unexpected blow ; Before the whiskers of Grimalkin fell, When slumb'ring on her post, the mouse may go ,— But woman, wakeful woman, 's never weary, — Above all, when she waits to thump her deary. Soon Mrs. Mason heard the well-known tread ; She heard the key slow creaking in the door, Spied through the gloom obscure, toward the bed Nick creeping soft, as ofl he had crept before ; When, bang, she threw a something at his head, And Nick at once lay prostrate on the floor ; While she exclaim'd with her indignant face on, — " How dare you use your wife so, Mr. Mason ?" X A RR A T 1 V E. ^^,io Spare we to tell how fiercely she debated, Especially the length of her oration, — Spare we to tell how Nick expostulated, Eoused by the bump into a good set passion, So great, that more than once he execrated, Ere he crawl'd into bed in his usual fashion ; — The Muses hate brawls ; suffice it then to say, He duck'd below the clothes — and there he lay : 'Twas now the very witching time of night, When church-yards groan, and graves give up their desA, And many a mischievous, enfrancliised Sprite Had long since burst his bonds of stone or lead, And hurried off", with schoolboy-like dehght, To play his pranks near some poor wretch's bed, Sleeping, perhaps, serenely as a porpoise, Not dreaming of this fiendish Habeas Corpus. Not so our Nicholas, his meditations Still to the same tremendous theme recurred, The same dread subject of the dark narrations. Which, back'd vdth such authority, he 'd heard; Lost in his own horrific contemplations, He pondered o'er each weU-remembered word ; When at the bed's foot, close beside the post, He verily be'ueved he saw — a Ghost 1 Plain and more plain the unsubstantial Sprite To his astonish'd gaze each moment grew ; Ghastly and gaunt, it rear'd its shadowy height, Of more than mortal seeming to the view. And round its long, thin, bony fingers drew A tatter'd winding-sheet, of course all white; — The moon that moment peeping through a cloud, Nick very plainl}- saw it through the shroud 1 And _ow those matted locks, which never yet Had yielded to the comb's unkind divorce, Their long-contracted amity forget. And spring asunder with elastic force ; Nay, e'en the very cap, of texture coarse, Whose ruby cincture crown'd that brow of jet, TJprose in agony — tlie Gorgon's head Was but a type of Nick's up-squatting in the tea. 134 NARRATIVE. From every pore distill'd a clammy dew, Quaked every limb, — the candle too no doubt, En regie, would have burnt extremely blue. But Nick unluckily had put it out ; And he, though naturally bold and stout, In short, was in a most tremendous stew; — The room was fill'd with a sulphureous smell, But where that came from Mason could not tell. All motionless the Specter stood, — and now Its reverend form more clearly shone contest ; From the pale cheek a beard of purest snow Descended o'er its venerable breast ; The thin gray hairs, that crown'd its furrow'd brow, Told of years long gone by. — An awful guest It stood, and with an action of command, Beckon' d the Cobbler with its wan right hand. " Whence, and what art thou. Execrable Shape ?" Nick 7nigJii have cried, could he have found a tongue, But his distended jaws could only gape, And not a sound upon the welkin rung . His gooseberry orbs seem'd as they would have sprung Forth from their sockets, — ^like a frightened Ape He sat upon his haunches, bolt upright. And shook, and grinn'd, and chatter'd with affright. And still the shadowy finger, long and lean. Now beckon'd Nick, now pointed to the door ; And many an ireful glance, and frown, between, The angry visage of the Phantom wore. As if quite vexed that Nick would do no more Than stare, without e'en asking, " What d' ye mean ?" Because, as we are told, — a sad old joke too, — Ghosts, hke the ladies, " never speak till spoke to." Cowards, 'tis said, in certain situations. Derive a sort of courage from despair, And then perform, from downright desperation, Much more than many a bolder man would dare. Nick saw the Ghost was getting in a passion. And therefore, groping till he found the chair, Seized on his awl, crept softly out of bed. And follow'd quaking where the Specter led. NARBATI V JH. 13ft And down the winding stair, with noiseless tread. The tenant of the torab pass'd slowly on, Each mazy turning of the humble shed Seem'd to his step at once familiar grown, So safe and sure the labyrintli did he tread As though the domicile had been his own. Though Nick himself, in passing ttirough the shop. Had almost broke his nose against the mop. Despite its wooden bolt, with jarring sound, The door upon its hinges open flew; And forth the Spirit issued, — yet around It turn'd as if its follower's fears it knew, And once more beckoning, pointed to the mound. The antique Keep, on which the bright moon threw With such effulgence her mild silvery gleam, The visionary form seem'd melting in her beam. Beneath a pond'rous archway's somber shade. Where once the huge portcullis swung subUme, 'Mid ivied battlements in ruin laid, Sole, sad memorials of the olden time, The Phantom held its way, — and though afraid Even of the owls that sung their vesper chime, Pale Nicholas pursued, its steps attending. And wondering what on earth it all would end in. Witliin the moldering fabric's deep recess At length they reach a court obscure and lone ; It seemed a drear and desolate wilderness, The blackened walls with ivy all o'ergrown ; The night-bird shrieked her note of wild distress, Disturb'd upon her solitary throne, As though indignant mortal step should dare, So led, at such an hour, should venture there I — Tne Apparition paused, and would have spoke, Pointing to what Nick thought an iron ring, But then a neighboring chanticleer awoke. And loudly 'gan his early matins sing And tlien "it started hke a guilty thing,'' As that shrill clarion the silence broke. — We know how much dead gentlefolks eschew The appalling sound of " Oock-a-doodle-dol" I 30 N A E K A T 1 V K The vision was no more — and Nick alone — " His streamer's waving" in the midnight wind, ^ Which through the ruins ceased not to groan ; — His garment, too, was somewhat short benind,- And, worst of all, he knew not where to find The ring, — which made him most his fate bemoan— The iron ring, — no doubt of some trap door, 'Neath which the old dead Miser kept his store. " What's to be done ?" he cried, " 't were vain to stay Here in the dark without a single clew — Oh, for a candle now, or moonlight ray ! Tore George, I 'm sadly puzzled what to do." (Then clapped his hand behind) — " 'Tis chilly too— I '11 mark the spot, and come again by day. What can I mark it by ? — Oh, here 's the wall — The mortar's yielding — here I '11 stick my awl I" Then rose from earth to sky a withering shriek, A loud, a long-protracted note of woe. Such as when tempests roar, and timbers creak, And o'er the side the masts in thunder go j While on the deck resistless billows break. And drag their victims to the gulfs below ; — Such was the scream when, for the want of candle, Nick Mason drove his awl in up to the handle. Scared by his Lady's heart-appalling cry. Vanished at once poor Mason's golden dream — For dream it was; — and all his visions high. Of wealth and grandeur, fled before that scream — And still he Ustens, with averted eye, When gibing neighbors make " the Ghost" their theme While ever from that hour they all declare That Mrs. Mason used a cushion in her chair ! A LAY OF ST. GENGULPHUS. R. HARRIS BARHAM Qengulphus comes from the Holy Laud, With his scrip, and his bottle, and sandal shoon ; Pull many a day liath he been away. Yet his lady deems him retmn'd full soon. NARRATIVE. IS? Fu.l rr.any a day hath he been away, Yet scarce had he crossed ayont the sea, Ere a spruce young spark of a Learned Clerk Had called on his Lady, and stopp'd to tea. This spruce young guest, so trimly drest, Stay'd with that Lady, her revels to crown ; They laugh' d, and they ate, and they drank of the best, And they turn'd the old nastle quite upside down. They would walk in the park, that spruce young Clerk, With that frolicsome Lady so fi-ank and free, Trying balls and plays, and aU manner of ways, To get rid of what French people call Ennui. ******* Now the festive board with viands is stored. Savory dishes be there, I ween. Rich puddings and big, and a barbacued pig, And ox-tail soup in a China tureen. There 's a flagon of ale as large as a pail — When, cockle on hat, and staff in hand, Wliile on naught they are thinking save eating and drinking, Gengulphus walks in from tlie Holy Land ! " You must be pretty deep to catch weasels asleep," Says the proverb : that is " take the Fair unawares:" A maid o'er the banisters chancing to peep. Whispers, " Ma'am, here 's Gengulphus a-coming up-stairs.' Pig, pudding, and soup, the electrified group, With the flagon pop under the sofa in haste, And contrive to deposit the Clerk in the closet. As the d^sh least of all to Gengulphus's taste. Then oh ! rt^hat rapture, what joy was exprest. When '' poor dear Gengulphus" at last appear'd ! She kiss'd and she press'd " the dear man" to her breast. In spite of his great, long, frizzly beard." Such hugging and squeezing ! 'twas almost unpleasing, A smile on her lip, and a tear in her eye ; She was so very glad, that she seem'd half mad. And did not know whether to laugh or to cry. 138 NARRATIVE. Then she calls up the maid and the table-cloth's laid, And she sends for a pint of the best Brown Stout ; On the fire, too, she pops some nice mutton-chops, And she mixes a stifi' glass of " Cold Without." Then again she began at the " poor dear" man ; She press'd him to drink, and she press'd him to eat^ And she brought a foot-pan, with hot water and bran, To comfort his " poor dear" travel-worn feet. ' Nor night nor day since he 'd been away, Had she had any rest," she " vow'd and declared." She " never could eat one morsel of meat, For thinking iiow ' poor dear' Gengulphus fared." She " really did think she had not slept a wink Since he left her, although he 'd been absent so long," Here he shook his head, — right little he said. But he thought she was " coming it rather too strong." Now his palate she tickles with the chops and the pickle% Till, so great the effect of that stiff gin grog. His weaken'd body, subdued by the toddy. Falls out of the chair, and he lies like a log. Then out comes the Clerk from his secret lair ; He lifts up the legs, and she lifts up the head, And, between them, this most reprehens'ble pair Undress poor Gengulphus and put him to bed. Then the bolster they place athwart his face. And his night-cap into his mouth tliey cram ; And she pinches liis nose underneath the clothes, Till the '■ poor dear soul" goes off like a lamb. ******* And now they tried the deed to hide ; For a little bird whisper'd " Perchance you may swing ; Here 's a corpse in the case, with a sad sweU'd face, And a Medical Crowner 's a queer sort of thing 1" So the Clerk and the wife, they each took a knife, And the nippers that nipp'd the loaf-sugar for tea ; With the edges and points they sever'd the joints At the clavicle, elbow, hip, ankle, and knee. NARRATIVE. 139 Thus, limb fiom limb, they dismember'd him So entirely, tli.it e'en when they came to his wrists, With those great sugar-nippers they nipped off his "flippers," As the Clerk, very flippantly, termed his fists. When they cut off his head, entertaining a dread Lest the folks should remember Gengulphus's face, They determined to throw it where no one could know it, Down the well, — and the limbs in some different place. But first the long beard from the chin they shear'd, And managed to stuff that sanctified hair. With a good deal of pushing, all into the cushion That filled up the seat of a large arm-chair. They contriv'd to pack up the trunk in a sack, Which they hid in an osier-bed outside the town, The Clerk bearing arms, legs, and all on his back, As that vile Mr. Greenacre served Mrs. Brown. But to see now how strangely things sometimes turn out, And that in a manner the least expected ! Who could surmise a man ever could rise Who 'd been thus carbonado'd, cut up, and dissected ? No doubt 't would surprise the pupils at Guy's ; I am no unbeliever — no man can say that o' me — But St. Thomas himself would scarce trust his own eyes If he saw such a thing in his School of Anatomy. You may deal as you please with Hindoos and Chinese, Or a Mussulman making his heathen salaam^ or A Jew or a Turk, but it 's rather guess work When a man has to do with a Pilgrim or Palmer. :)b :): ^: :): s{: :{: * By chance the Prince Bishop, a Royal Divine, Sends his cards round the neighborhood next day, and urges hia Wish to receive a snug party to dine. Of the resident clergy, the gentry, and burgesses. At a quarter past five they are all alive, At the palace, for coaches are fast rolling in , And to every guest his card had express'd " Half-past" as the houi for " a greasy chin." 140 N A K K A T I V E . Some thirty are seated, and handsomely treated With the choicest Rhine wine in his Highness's stock ; When a Count of the Empire, who felt liimself heated, Requested some water to mix with his Hock. The Butler, who saw it, sent a maid out to draw it JBut scarce had she given the windlass a twirl, Ere Gengulphus's head, from the well's bottom, said In mild accents, " Do help us out, that's a good girl 1" Only fancy her dread when she saw a great head In her bucket ; — with fright she was ready to drop : — Conceive, if you can, how she roar'd and she ran, With the head rolling after her, bawling out " Stop 1" She ran and she roar'd, tiU she came to the board Where the Prince Bishop sat with his party around, When Gengulphus's poll, which continued to roll At her heels, on the table bounced up with a bound, Never touching the cates, or the dishes or plates. The decanters or glasses, the sweetmeats or fruits, The head smiles, and begs them to bring his legs. As a well-spoken gentleman asks for his boots. Kicking open the casement, to each one's amazement Straight a right leg steps in, aU impediment scorns, And near the head stopping, a left follows hopping Behind, — for the left leg was troubled with corns. Next, before the beholders, two great brawny shoulders. And arms on their bent elbows dance tlirough the throng, While two hands assist, though nipped off at the wrist. The said shoulders in bearing the body along. They march up to the head, not one syllable said. For the thirty guests all stare in wonder and doubt, As the limbs in their sight arrange and unite, Till Gengulphus, though dead, looks as sound as a trout 1 will venture to say, fi-om that hour to this day. Ne'er did such an assembly behold such a scene ; Or a table divide fifteen guests of a side With a dead body placed in the center between. JSr A EK A T I V K. 141 Yes, they stared — well they might at so novel a sight • No one utter' d a whisper, a sneeze, or a hem, But sat all bolt upright, and pale with affi-ight ; And they gazed at the dead man, the dead man at them. The Prince Bishop's Jester, on punning intent, As he view'd the whole thirty, in jocular terms Said " They put him in mind of a Council of Trent? Engaged in reviewing the Diet of Worms." But what should they do ? — Oh I nobody knew What was best to be done, either stranger or resident ; The Chancellor's self read his PufFendorf through In vain, for his book could not furnish a precedent. The Prince Bishop mutter'd a curse, and a prayer, Wliich his double capacity hit to a nicety ; His Princely, or Lay, half induced him to swear. His Episcopal moiety said " Benedicite /" The Coroner sat on the body that night. And the jury agreed, — not a doubt could they harbor,- " That the chin of the corpse — the sole thing brought to light — Had been recently shav'd by a very bad barber." They sent out Van Taiinsend, Von Biirnie, Von Roe, Von Maine, and Von Rowantz — through chalets and chate aux, Towns, villages, hamlets, they told them to go. And they stuck up placards on the walls of the Stadthaua. "MURDER! I "Whereas, a dead gentleman, surname unknown, Has been recently found at his Highness's banquet, Rather shabbily dressed in an Amice, or gown In appearance resembling a second-hand blanket ; " And Whereas, there 's great reason indeed to suspect That some ill-disposed person, or persons, with malice Aforethought, have kill'd, and begun to dissect The said Gentleman, not far from this palace • 142 NAKRATJVE. " This is to give jSTotice ! — Whoever shall seize, And such person or persons, to justice surrender, Shall receive — such Reward — as his Highness shall please, On conviction of him, the aforesaid offender. '' And, in order the matter more clearly to trace To the bottom, his Highness, the Prince Bishop, further, Of his clemency, offers free Pardon and Grace To all such as have not been concern'd in the murtfcer, " Done this day, at our palace, — July twenty-five, — By command, (Signed) Johann Von Rijssell, N.B. Deceased rather in years — had a squint vi^hen alive ; And smells slightly of gin — linen marked with a Gr." The Newspapers, too, made no little ado, Though a different version each managed to dish up : Some said " The Prince Bishop had run a man through," * Others said " an assassin had kill'd the Prince Bishop." The " Ghent Herald" fell foul of the " Bruxelles Gazette," The " Bruxelles Gazette," with much sneering ironical, Scorn'd to remain in the " Ghent Herald's" debt, And the " Amsterdam Times" quizz'd ihe " Nuremberg Chron. icle." In one thing, indeed, all the journals agreed, Spite of •'' politics," " bias," or " party collision ;" Viz. : to "give," when they'd "further accounts" of the deed, " Full particulars" soon, in " a later Edition." But now, while on all sides they rode and they ran. Trying all soils of means to discover the caitiffs, T;Osiug patience, the holy Gengulphus began To think it high time to " astonish the natives." First, a Rittmeister's Frau, who was weak in both eyes. And supposed the most short-sighted woman in Holland, Found greater relief, to her joy and surprise. From one ghmpse of liis " squint" than from glasses by Do\- lond. NARRATIVE. 143 By the slightest approach to the tip of his Nose, Meagrims, headac le, and vapors were put to the rout ; And one single touch of his precious Great Toes Was a certain specific for chillblains and gout. Rheumatics, — sciatica, — tic-douloureux ! Apply to his shin-bones — not one of them hngers ; — All bilious complaints in an instant withdrew, If the patient was tickled with one of his fingers. Much virtue was found to reside in his thumbs : When apphed to the chest, they cured scantness of breathittg, Sea-sickness, and colic ; or, rubb'd on the gums. Were " A blessing to Mothers," for infants in teething. Whoever saluted the nape of his neck, Where the mark remain'd visible stiU of the knife, Notwithstanding east winds perspiration might check, Was safe from sore- throat for the rest of his life. Thus, while each acute and each chronic complaint Giving way, proved an influence clearly Divine, They perceived the dead Gentleman must be a Saint, So they lock'd him up, body and bones, in a shrine. Through country and town his new Saintship's renovnj As a first-rate physician kept daily increasing, Till, as Alderman Curtis told Alderman Brown, It seem'd as if " Wonders had never done ceasing." The Three Kings of Cologne began, it was known, A sad falling ofif in their offerings to find, His feats were so many — still the greatest of any, — In every sense of the word, was — behind • For the German Police were beginning to cease From exertions which each day more fruitless appear'd, When Gengulphus himself, his fame still to increase, Unravell'd the whole by the help of — his beard 1 If you look back you '11 see the aforesaid barbe gris, When divorced from the chin of its murder'd proprietor, Had been stuffed in the seat of a kind of settee, Or double-arm'd chair, to keep the thing quieter. 144 NARKATIVB. It may seem rather strange, that it did not arrange Itself in its place when the limbs join'd together ; Perhaps it could not get out, for the cusliion was stout. And constructed of good, strong, maroon-color'd leather Or what is more likely, Gengulphus might choose, For saints, e'en when dead, still retain their volition, It should rest there, to aid some particular views, Produced by his very pecuhar position. Be that as it may, on the very first day That the widow G-engulphus sat down on that settee, Wliat occur'd almost frightened her senses away. Beside scaring her hand-maidens, Gertrude and Betty. They were telling their mistress the wonderful deeds Of the new Saint, to whom all the Town said their orisoES ; And especially how, as regards invalids, His miraculous cures far outrival' d Von Morison's. " The cripples," said they, " fling their crutches away. And people born blind now can easily see us I" But she (we presume, a disciple of Hume) Shook her head, and said angrily, " ' Credat Judceus /' " Those rascally liars, the Monks and the Friars, To bring gi-ist to their mill, these devices have hit on. He works miracles ! — pooh ! — I 'd believe it of you Just as soon, you great Geese, — or the Chair that I sit on!" The Chair — at that word — it seems really absurd, But the truth must be told, — what contortions and grins Distorted her face I — She sprang up from her place Just as though she'd been sitting on needles and pins I For, as if the Saint's beard the rash challenge had heard Which she utter' d, of what was beneath her forgetful. Each particular hair stood on end in the chair, Lilme two hundred yards above high-water mark; 172 NARRATIVE. And thither the party, So cordiu,! and hearty, Viz., an old man, his wife, two lads, made a start, he The Bagman, proceeding. With equal good breeding, To express, in indiflferent French, all he feels, The great curly-tail'd Dog keeping close to his heels. — They soon reach'd the hut, which seem'd partly in ruin, All the way bowing, chattering, shrugging, Mon-Dieuing, Grimacing, and what sailors caU parhy-vooing. Is it Paris, or Kitchener, Reader, exhorts You, whenever your stomach 's at aU out of sorts, To try, if you find richer viands won't stop in it, A basin of good mutton broth with a chop in it ? (Such a basin and chop as I once heard a witty one Call, at the Garrick, " a c — d Committee one," An expression, I own, I do not think a pretty one.) However, it's clear That with sound table beer, Such a mess as I speak of is very good cheer ; Especially too When a person 's wet through, And is hungry, and tired, and don't know what to do. Now just such a mess of delicious hot pottage Was smoking away when they enter'd the cottage, And casting a truly delicious perfume Through the whole of an ugly ill-furnish'd room ; " Hot, smoking hot," On the fire was a pot Well replenish'd, but really I can't say with what ; For, famed as the French always are for ragouts. No creature can tell what they put in their stews. Whether buU-frogs, old gloves, or old wigs, or old shoes Notwithstanding, when offer'd I rarely refuse. Any more than poor Blogg did, when seeing the reeky Repast placed before him, scarce able to speak, he In ecstasy mutter'd, "By Jove, Cocky-leeky!" In an instant, as soon As they gave him a spoon, NARRATIVE. 173 Every feeling ind faculty bent on the gruel, he No more blamed Fortune for treating him cruelly, But fell 1 0'jtii and nail on the soup and the bouilU. Meanw'jj'e that old man standing by, Subduct'jd his long coat-tails on higli. With hjs back to the fire, as if to dry A part jf his dress which the watery sky Had visited rather inclemently. — • Blandly he smil'd, but still he look'd sly, And something sinister lurk'd in his eye. Indeed, had you seen him his maritime dress in, You'd have own'd his appearance was not prepossessing: He 'd a " dreadnought" coat, and heavy sabots, With thick wooden soles turn'd up at the toes, His nether man cased in a striped quelque chose, And a hump on his back, and a great hook'd nose, So that nine out of ten would be led to suppose That the person before them was Punch in plain clothes. Tet still, as I told you, he smiled on all present, ind did all that lay in his power to look pleasant. Tp3 old woman, too, }Jade a mighty ado, Helping her guest to a deal of the stew ; She fish'd up the meat, and she help'd him to that, She help'd him to lean, and she help'd him to fat. And it look'd like Hare — but it might have been Cat The little garr^ons too strove to express Their sympathy toward the " Child of distress " With a great deal of juvenile French poKiesse ; But the Bagman bluff Continued to " stuff' Of the fat, and the lean, and the tender, and tough. Till they thought he would never cry "Hold, enough!" A.nd the old woman's tones became far less agreeable, Sounding like peste I and sacre I and diahle I I 've seen an old saw, which is well worth repeating, That says, " eSooti lEntpnge licsetbeti) flooti ©rwiifeunge." 174 NARRATIVE. You '11 find it so printed by ©avton or EJI^Bnfejjn, i\.nd a very good proverb it is to my thinking. Blogg thought so too ; — As he finish'd his stew, His ear caught the sound of the word '^Morhleu /" Pronounced by the old woman under her breath. Now, not knowing what she could mean by " Blue Death I" He conceiv'd she referr'd to a deUcate brewing Wliich is almost synonymous, — namely, " Blue Ruin." So he pursed up his lip to a smile, and with glee, In his cockneyfy'd accent, responded " Oh, Vee /" Which made her understand he Was asking for brandy ; So she turn'd to the cupboard, and, having some handy, Produced, rightly deeming he would not object to it, An oracular bulb with a very long neck to it ; In fact you perceive her mistake was the same as his, Each of them " reasoning right from wrong premises ;" — — And here by the way AUow me to say, Kind Reader — you sometimes permit me to stray — 'Tis strange the French prove, when they take to aspersing. So inferior to us in the science of cursing : Kick a Frenchman down stairs. How absurdly he swears I And how odd 'tis to hear him, when beat to a jelly, Roar out in a passion, " Blue Death 1" and " Blue Belly I" "To return to our sheep" from this little digression : — Blogg's features assumed a complacent expression As he emptied his glass, and she gave him a fresh one ; Too Uttle he heeded. How fast they succeeded. Perhaps you or I might have done, though, as he did ; For when once Madam Fortune deals out her hard rapii It 's amazing to tliink How one " cottons" to Drink ! At such times, of all things in nature, perhaps. There 's not one that is half so seducing as Schnaps. Mr. Blogg, beside being uncommonly diy. Was, like most other Bagmen, remarkably shy, NARRATIVE. 176 — " Did not like to deny"— " Felt obliged to comply" Every time that she ask'd him to " wet t' other eye ;" For 't was worthy remark that she spared not the stoup, Though before she had seem'd so to grudge him the soup. At lenoth the fumes rose To his brain ; and his nose Gave hints of a strong disposition to doze, And a yearning to seek " horizontal repose." — His queer-looking host^ Who; firm at his post, During all the long meal had continued to toast That garment 't were rude to Do more than allude to, Perceived, from his breathing and nodding, the views Of his guest were directed to " taking a snooze :" So he caught up a lamp in his huge dirty paw, With (as Blogg used to tell it) '■'■Mounseer, swivvy mawT And " marshal'd" him so — " The way he should go," Up stairs to an attic, large, gloomy, and low. Without table or chair, Or a movable there, Save an old-fashion'd bedstead, much out of repair, That stood at the end most remov'd from the stair. — With a grin and a shrug The host points to the rug, Just as much as to say, " There 1 — I think you '11 be snug !" Puts the Ught on the floor, Walks to the door. Makes a formal Salaam^ and is then seen ii :f a^^i^. Lords, ladies, I have seen tbev vt^j^. And many a grave divine. 228 SATIRICAL. I 'm sorely grieved at times to find, The very instant thou art kind, Some people so uncivil, When aught offends, with face a.wvy With base ingratitude to ciy, " I wish it to the Devil." • Hath some poor blockhead got a wife, To b'^ the torment of his life, By one eternal yell — The fellow cries out coarsely, "Zounds, I 'd give this moment twenty pounds To see the jade in helL" Should Heaven their prayers so ardent grani^ Thou never company wouldst want To make thee downright mad ; For, mind me, in their wishing mood, They never offer thee what 's good, But every thing that 's bad. My honest anger boils to view A sniffling, long-faced, canting crew, So much thy humble debtors, Rushing, on Sundays, one and all, With desperate prayers thy head to maul. And thus abuse their betters. To seize one day in every week. On thee their black abuse to wreak, By whom their souls are fed Each minute of the other six. With every joy that heart can fix. Is impudence indeed! Blushing I own thy pleasing art Hath ofl seduced my vagrant heart, And led ray steps to joy — The charms of beauty have been mine And let me call the merit thine, Who broughtst the lovely toy. S ATI UI C A L. 229 No, Satan — if I ask thy aid, To give my arms the blooming maid. I will not, though the nation all, Proclaim thee (like a gracless imp) A vile old good-for-nothing pimp, But say, " 'Tis thy vocation, HaL" Since truth must out — I seldom knew What 't was high pleasure to pursue, Till thou hadst won my heart — So social were we both together. And beat the hoof in every weather, I never wished to part. Yet when a child — good Lord ! I thought That thou a pair of horns hadst got. With eyes like saucers staring I And then a pair of ears so stout, A monstrous taU and hairy snout, With claws beyond comparing. Taught to avoid the paths of evil, By day I used to dread the devil, And trembling when 't was night, Methought I saw thy horns and ears, They sung or whistled to my fears, 4.nd ran to chase my fright. And every night I went to bed, I swpated with a constant dread, And crept beneath the rug; There panting, thought that in my sleep Thou slyly in the dark wouldst creep, And eat me, though so snug. A haberdasher's shop is thine. With sins of all sorts, coarse and fine, To suit both man and maid : Thy wares they buy, with open eyes ; How cruel then, with constant criea, To viUfy thy trade I 230 SATIRICAL. To speak the truth, indeed, I 'm loath — Life 's deemed a mawkish dish of broth, Without thy aid, old sweeper ; So mawkish, few will put it down, Even from the cottage to the crown, Without thy salt and pepper. Satan, whatsoever geer, Thy Proteus form shall choose to wear, Black, red, or blue, or yellow ; Whatever hypocrites may say, They think thee (trust my honest lay) A most bevpitching fellow. 'Tis ordered (to deaf ears, alas !) To praise the bridge o'er which we pass Yet often I discover A numerous band who daily make An easy bridge of thy poor back. And damn it when they 're over. Why art thou, then, with cup in hand, Obsequious to a graceless band, Whose souls are scarce worth taking ; prince, pursue but my advice, 1 'U teach your higlmess in a trice To set them all a quaking. Plays, operas, masquerades, destroy: Lock up each charming ^ZZe dejoie; Give race-horses the glander — The dice-box break, and burn each card- Let virtue be its own reward. And gag the mouth of slander; In one week's time, I'U lay my life, There 's not a man, nor maid, nor wife, That will not glad agree. If thou will charm 'em as before. To show their nose at church no more, But quit their G-od for thee. SATIRICAL. 23J Tis now full time my ode should end : And now I tell thee like a friend, Howe'er the world may scout thee ; Thy ways are all so wond'rous winning, And folks so very fond of sinning. They can not do without thee. THE KING OF SPAIN AND THE HORSE. PETER PINDAR. In seventeen hundred seventy-eight, The rich, the proud, the potent King of Spain, Whose ancestors sent forth their troops to smite The peaceful natives of the western main. With faggots and the blood-delighting sword, To play the devil, to obUge the Lord ! For hunting, roasting heretics, and boihng, Baking and barbecuing, frying, broiling. Was thought Heaven's cause amazingly to further ; For which most pious reason, hard to work. They went, with gun and dagger, knife and fork, To charm the God of mercy with their murther I I say, this King, in seventy-eight surveyed, In tapestry so rich, portrayed, A horse with stirrups, crupper, bridle, saddle : Within the stirrup, lo, the monarch tried To fix his foot the palfry to bestride ; In vain 1 — he could n^ o'er the palfry straddle I Stiff as a Turk, the beast of yarn remained, And every effort of the King disdained. Who, 'midst his labors, to the ground was tumbled, And greatly mortified, as well as humbled. Prodigious was the struggle of the day. The horse attempted not to run away ; At which the poor-chafed monarch now 'gan grin, And swore by every saint and holy martyr, He would not yield the traitor quarter, Until he got possession of his skin. 232 SATIRICAL, Not fiercer famed La Mancha's knight, Hight Quixote, at a puppet-show, Did with more valor stoutly fight, And terrify each little squeaking foe ; When bold he pierced the lines, immortal fray 1 And broke their pasteboard bones, and stabbed their hearts of hay. Not with more energy and fury The beauteous street- walker of Drury Attacks a sister of the smuggling trade. Whose winks, and nods, and sweet resistless smile, Ah, me I her paramour beguile, And to her bed of healthy straw persuade ; Where mice with music charm, and vermin crawl. And snails with silver traces deck the wall. And now a cane, and now a wliip he used, And now he kicked, and sore the palfry bruised ; Tet, lo, the horse seemed patient at each kick. And bore with Christian spirit whip and stick ; And what excessi\"ely provoked this prince. The horse so stubborn scorned even once to wince. Now rushed the monarch for a bow and arrow To shoot the rebel like a sparrow ; And, lo, with shafts well steeled, with all his force, Just like a pincushion, he stuck the horse I Now with the fiiry of the chafed wild boar, » With nails and teeth the wounded horse he tore. Now to the floor he brought the stubborn beast; Now o'er the vanquish'd horse that dared rebel. Most Indian-like the monarch gave a yell. Pleased on the quadruped his eyes to feast; Blessed as Achilles when with fatal wound He brought the mighty Hector to the ground. Yet more to gratify his godlilce ire, He vengeful flung the palfry in the fire I Showing his pages round, poor trembUng things, How dangerous to resist the will of kings. SATIRICAL. 25.T THE TENDER HUSBAND. PETER PINDA2. Lo, to the cruel hand of fate, My poor dear Grizzle, meek-souled mate. Resigns her tuneful breath — Though dropped her jaw, her lip though pale, And blue each liarmless finger-nail, She 's beautiful in death. As o'er her lovely limbs I weep, I scarce can think her but asleep — How wonderfully tame 1 And yet her voice is really gone, And dim those eyes that lately shone With all the Ughtning's flame. Death was, indeed, a daring wight, To take it in his head to smite — To lift liis dart to hit her ; For as she was so great a woman. And cared a single fig for no man, I thought he feared to meet her. Still i« that voice of late so strong, That many a sweet capriccio sung, And beat in sounds the spheres ; No longer must those fingers play " Britons strike home," that many a day Hath soothed my ravished ears. Ah me I indeed I 'm much inclined To think how I may speak my mind, Nor hurt her dear repose ; Nor think I now with rage she 'd roar, Were I to put my fingers o'er, And touch her precious nose. Here let me philosophic pause — How wonderfiil are nature's laws, 234 SATIRICAL. When ladies' breath retires, Its fete the flaming passions share, Supported by a little air, Like culinary fires. Whene'er I hear the bagpipe's note, Shall fancy fix on Grizzle's throat. And loud instructive lungs ; Death, in her, though only one. Are lost a thousand charms unknown, At least a thousand tongues. Soon as I heard her last sweet sigh, And saw her gently-closing eye, How great was my surprise ! Yet have I not, with impious breath, Accused the hard decrees of death, Nor blamed the righteous skies. Why do I groan in deep despair, Since she '11 be soon an angel fair ? Ah ! why my bosom smite ? Could grief my Grizzle's life restore I— But let me give such ravings o'er — Whatever is, is right. O doctor I you are come too late ; No more of physic's virtues prate. That could not save my lamb : Not one more bolus shaU be given — You shaU not ope her mouth by heaven^ And Grizzle's gullet cram. Enough of boluses, poor heart, And pills, she took, to load a cart, Before she closed her eyes : But now my word is here a law. Zounds I with a bolus in her jaw, She shall not seek the skies. Good sir, good doctor, go away ; To hear my sighs you must not stay, SATIRICAL. 2M For this my poor lost treasure : I thank you for your pains and sliill ; When next you come, pray bring your bill ; I '11 pay it, sir, with pleasure. Ye friends who come to mourn her doom, For Grod's sake gently tread the room, Nor call her from the blessed — In softest silence drop the tear, In whispers breathe the fervent prayer, To bid her spirit rest. Repress the sad, the wounding scream ; I can not bear a grief extreme — Enough one httle sigh — Besides, the loud alarm of grief, In many a mind may start Ijelief, Our noise is aU a lie. Good nurses, shroud my lamb with care j Her limbs, with gentlest fingers, spare, Her mouth, ah ! slowly close ; Her mouth a magic tongue that held — Whose softest toue, at times, compelled To peace my loudest woes. And, carpenter, for my sad sake. Of stoutest oak her coffin make — I 'd not be stingy, sure — Procure of steel the strongest screws; For who could paltry pence refuse To lodge his wife secure ? "o^ Ye people who the corpse convey, With caution tread the doleful way, Nor shake her precious head ; Since Fame reports a coffin tossed, With careless swing against a post. Did once disturb the dead. Farewell, my love, forever lost I Ne'er troubled be thy gentle ghost. '.>.;ib SATIRICAL. That I again will woo — By all our past delights, my dear, No more the marriage chain I '11 wear, Deil take me if I do I THE SOLDIER AND THE VIRGIN MARY. PETER PINDAR. A Soldier at Loretto's wondrous chapel, To parry fror / his soul the wrath Divine, That followed mother Eve's unlucky apple, Did visit oft the Virgin Mary's slirine ; Who every day is gorgeously decked out, In silks or velvets, jewels, great and small. Just like a fine young lady for a rout, A concert, opera, wedding, or a ball. At first the Soldier at a distance kept, Begging her vote and interest in heaven — With seeming bitterness the sinner wept. Wrung his two hands, and hoped to be forgiven : Dinned her two ears with Ave-Mary flummery 1 Declared what miracles the dame could do, Even with her garter, stocking, or her shoe. And such like wonder-working mummery. What answer Mary gave the wheedling sinner, Who nearly and more nearly moved to win her, The mouth of history doth not mention, And therefore I can't tell but by invention. One day, as he was making love and praying, And pious Aves, thick as herring, saying. And sins so manifold confessing ; Ee di-ew, as if to whisper, very near, A.nd twitched a pretty diamond from her f/ar, Instead of taking the good lady's blessing. SATIRICAL. 237 Then off he set, with nimble shanks, Nor once turned back to give her thanks: A hue and cry the thief pursued, Who, to his cost, soon understood That he was not beyond the claw Of that same long-armed giant, christened Law. With horror did his judges quake — As for the tender-conscienced jury, They doomed him quickly to the stake, Such was their deviUsh pious fury. However, after calling him hard names. They asked if aught he had in vindication, To save his wretched body from the flames, And sinful soul from terrible damnation. The Soldier answered them with much sangfroid^ Which showed, of sin, a conscience void. That if they meant to IdU him they might kill : As for the diamond which they found about him, He hoped they would by no means doubt him. That madam gave it him from pure good-wUL The answer turned both judge and jury pale : The punishment was for a tinae deferred. Until his Hohness should hear the tale, And his infallibiUty be heard. The Pope, to all his counselors, made known This strange affair — to cardinals and friars. Good pious gentlemen, who ne'er were known To act Uke hypocrites, and thieves, and liars. The question now was banded to and fro, If Mary had the power to give, or no. That Mary could not give it, was to say The wonder-working lady wanted power — This was the stumbling-block that stopped the way — This made Pope, cardinals, and friars lower. 238 SATIRICAL. To save the Virgin's credit, lo ! And keep secure the diamonds that were lefk: They said, she mighty indeed, the gem bestow, And consequently it might be no theft : But then they parsed immediately an act, That every one discovered in the fact Of taking presents from the Virgin's hand. Or from the saints of any land, Should know no mercy, but be led to slaughter, Flayed here, and fried eternally hereafter. Ladies, I deem the moral much too clear To need poetical assistance ; Which bids you not let men approach too near, But keep the saucy fellows at a distance ; Since men you find, so bold, are apt to seize Jewels from ladies, even upon their knees I A KING OF FRANCE AND THE FAIR LADY PETEK PINDAR. A Kjng of France upon a day, With a fair lady of his court, Was pleased at battledore to play — A very fashionable sport. Into the bosom of this fair court dame. Whose whiteness did the snow's pure whiteness shame. King Louis by odd mischance did knock The shuttlecock, Thrice happy rogue, upon the town of doves, To nestle with the pretty Uttle loves I " Now, sire, pray take it out" — quoth she. With an arch smile. — But what did he ? What ? what to charming modesty belongs I Obedient to her soft command, He raised it — but not with his hand I No, marveUng reader, but the chimney tonga SATIRICAL. 239 What a chaste thought in this good king I How clever I When shall we hear agen of such a thing ? Lord ! never. Now were our princes to be prayed To such an act by some fair maid, I 'U bet my life not one would jimd it : But handy, without more ado, The youths would search the bosom tlirough, Although it took a day to find it I THE EGGS. FROM THE SPANISH OF YRIARTE. G. H. DEVEKEUX. Beyond the sunny Philippines An island lies, whose name I do not know ; But that 's of httle consequence, if so You understand that there they had no hens ; Till, by a happy chance, a traveler. After a while, carried some poultry there. Fast they increased as any one could wish ; Until fresh eggs became the common dish. But aU the natives ate them boiled — they say — Because the stranger taught no other way. At last the experiment by one was tried — Sagacious man ! — of having his eggs fried. And, ! what boundless honors, for his pains, His fruitful and inventive fancy gains ! Another, now, to have them baked devised — Most happy thought ! — and still another, spiced., Who ever thought eggs were so dehcate ! Next, som'e one srave his fi-iends an omelette : "Ah!" aU exclaimed, "what an ingenious feat!" But scarce a year went by, an artiste shouts, "I have it now — ye 're all a pack of louts ! — With nice tomatoes all my eggs are stewed." And the whole island thought the mode so good, That they would so have cooked them to this day, But that a stranger, wandering out that way, 240 SATIKICAL. Another dish the gaping natives taught, And showed them eggs cooked d la Huguenot. Successive cooks thus proved their skiH diverse , But how shall I be able to rehearse AU of the new, delicious condiments That luxury, from time to time, invents ? Soft, hard, and dropped; and now with sugar sweet/ And now boiled up with milk, the eggs they eat: In sherbet, in preserves ; at last they tickle Their palates fanciful with eggs in pickle. AU had their day — the last was still the best. But a grave senior thus, one day, addressed The epicures : " Boast, ninnies, if you will, These countless prodigies of gastric skill — But blessings on the man who brought the hens /" Beyond the sunny Philippines Our crowd of modern authors need not go New-fangled modes of cooking eggs to show. THE ASS AND HIS MASTER. FROM THE SPANISH OF TRIARTE. G. H. DEVEREUX. " On good and bad an equal value sets The stupid mob. From me the worst it gets, And never fails to praise." With vile pretense, The scunilous author thus his trash excused. A poet shrewd, hearing the lame defense, Indignant, thus exposed the argument abused. A Donkey's master said unto his beast, While doling out to him his lock of straw, " Here, take it — since such diet suits your taste, And much good may it do your vulgar maw J" Often the slighting speech the man repeated. The Ass — his quiet mood by insult heated — SATIRICAL. 24:1 Replies : " Just what you choose to give, I take, Master unjust 1 but not because I choose Ji. Think you I nothing like but straw ? Thon make The experiment. Bring corn, and see if I refuse it** Te caterers for the pubhc, hence take heed How your defaults by false excuse you cover 1 Fed upon straw — straw it may eat, indeed : Try it with generous fare — 't will scorn the other. THE LOVE OF THE WORLD REPROVED; OR, HYPOCRISY DETECTED. WILLIAM COWPfiB. Thus says the prophet of the Turk, Good Mussulman, abstain from pork ; There is a part in every swine No friend or follower of mine May taste, whate'er liis incUnation, On pain of excommunication. Such Mohammed's mysterious charge, And thus he left tiie point at large. Had he the sinful part expressed, They might with safety eat the rest ; But for one piece they thought it hard From the whole hog to be debarred ; And set their wit at work to find What joint the prophet had in mind. Much controversy straight arose, These chose the back, the belly those ; By some 'tis confidently said He meant not to forbid the head ; "While others at that doctrine rail. And piously prefer the tail. Thus, conscience freed from every clog, Mohammedans eat up the hog. You laugh — 'tis well — The tale applied May make you laugh on t' other side. Renounce the world — the preacher criea We do — a multitude replies. 11 242 SATIRICAL. Wliilo one as innocent regards A snug and friendly game at cards j And one, whatever you may say, Can see no evil in a play ; Come love a concert, or a race ; And others shooting, and the chase. Iloviled and loved, renounced and followed, Thus, bit by bit, the world is swallowed ; Each thinks his neighbor makes too free, Yet hkes a sUce as well as he ; With sophistry their sauce they sweeten, Til] quite from tail to snout 'tis eaten. REPORT OF AN ADJUDGED CASE, NOT TO BE KOUin) IN ANY OF THE BOOKS. WILLIAM COVVPEB Between Nose and Eyes a strange contest arose, The spectacles set them unhappily wrong ; The point m dispute was, as all the world knows, To which the said spectacles ought to belong. So Tongue was the lawyer, and argued the cause With a great deal of skill, and a wig full of learning ; Wlule chief baron Ear sat to balance the laws. So famed for his talent in nicely discerning. In behalf of the Nose it will quicldy appear. And your lordship, he said, will undoubtedly find, That the Nose has had spectacles always to wear. Which amounts to possession time out of mind. Then holding the spectacles up to the court — Tour lordship observes they are made with a straddle As wide as the ridge of the Nose is ; in short. Designed to sit close to it, just like a saddle. Again, would your lordship a moment suppose ^_'Tis a case that has happened, and may be again) That the visage or countenance had not a nose, Pray who would, or who could, wear spectacles then? SATIRICAL. ''43 On the whole it appears, and my argument shows, With a reasoning the court will never condemn, That the spectacles plainly were made for the Nose, And the Nose was as plainly intended for them. Then shifting his side (as a lawyer knows how), He pleaded again in behalf of the Eyes ; But what were his arguments few people know, For tlie court did not think they were equally wise, So his lordship decreed with a grave solemn tone, Decisive and clear, without one if or hut — That, whenever the Nose put his spectacles on, By daylight or candlelight — Eyes should be shut ! HOLY WILLIE'S PRAYER.* ROBEBT BURNS, Thou, wha in the heavens dost dwell, Wha, as it pleases best thysel'. Sends ane to heaven, and ten to heU, A' for thy glory, And no for ony guid or ill They've done afore thee I 1 bless and praise thy matchless might. When thousands thou hast left in night, That I am here, afore thy sight, " For gifts an' grace, A burnin' an' a shinin' light To a' this place. • Kennedy gives the following acconnt of the origin of " Holy Wlllie'ii Prayer:" — Gavin Hamilton, Esq., Clerk of Ayr, the Poet's friend and benefac- tor, was accosted one Sunday morning by a mendicant, who begged alms of him. Not recollecting lAat it was the Sabbath, HamiKon set the man to work in his garden, which lay en the public road, and the poor fellow was discovered by the people on their way "^o the kirk, and thev immediately stoned him from the ground. For this offense, Mr. Hamilton was not permitted u) have a child christened, which his wife bore him soon afterwarj Nugee, that snip of note ; A very quiet oUve brown 's the color of Dick's long-tail'd coat. Gay jackets clothe the stately Pole, The proud Hungarian, and the Croat, Yet Esterhazy, on the whole Looks best when in a long-tail'd coat Lord Byron most admired, we know. The Albanian dress, or Suliote, But then he died some years ago, And never saw Dick's long-tail'd coat ; Or past all doubt the poet's theme Had never been the " White Capote," Had he once view'd in Fancy's dream, The glories of Dick's long-tail'd coatl We also know on Highland kilt Poor dear Glengarry used to dote. And had esteem'd it actual guilt I' " the Gael" to wear a long-tail'd coatl No wonder 'twould his eyes annoy, Monkbarns himself would never quote " Sir Robert Sibbald," " Gordon," " Ray," Or " Stukely" for a long-tail'd coat. 288 SATIRICAL. Jackets may do to ride or race, Or row in, when one 's in a boat, But in the boudoir, sure, for grace There 's notliing like Dick's long-tail'd coat Of course in climbing up a tree, On teira-firma, or afloat, To mount the giddy topmast, he Would doff awhile his long-tail'd coat. What makes you simper, then, and sneer ? From out your own eye pull the mote I A pretty thing for you to jeer — Have n't you, too, got a long-tail'd coat ? Oh ! " Dick 's scarce old enough," you meaa Why, though too young to give a note, Or make a will, yet, sure Fifteen 's a ripe age for a long-tail'd coat. What ! would you have liim sport a chin Like Colonel Stanhope, or that goat 0' Grorman Mahon, ere begin To figure in a long-tail'd coat ? Suppose he goes to France — can he Sit down at any table d' Mte, With any sort of decency. Unless he 's got a long-tail'd coat r Why Louis Philippe, Royal Cit, There soon may be a sans culotte, And Nugent's self may then admit The advantage of a long-tail'd coat. Things are not now as when, of yore, In tower encircled by a moat. The Uon-hearted chieftain wore A corselet for a long-tail'd coat ; Then ample mail his form embraced, Not like a weasel or a stoat, " Cribb'd and confined" about the waist, And pinch'd in Mke Dick's long-tail'd coat. S A. T I ]{ I c .a I- . With beamy spear or biting ax, To right and left he thrust and smote — Ah ! what a change ! no sinewy thwacks Fall from a modern long-tail'd coat 1 More changes stiU ! now, well-a-day ! A few cant plirases learned by rote, Each beardless booby spouts away, A Solon, in a long-taU'd coat 1 Prates of the " March of Intellect"— " The Schoolmaster." A Putriote Bo noble, who could e'er suspect Had just put on a long-tail'd coat ? Alack ! alack ! that every thick- SkuU'd lad must find an antidote For England's woes, because, like Dick, He has put on a long-tail'd coat I But lo I my rhyme 's begun to fail, Nor can I longer time devote ; Thus rhyme and time cut short the tale, The long tale of Dick's long-tail'd coat 289 THE SUNDAY QUESTION. THOMAS HOOD. "It is the king's liighway that we are iu, and in this way it is that thou hast placed the lions."— Btjnyan. What I shut the Gardens ! lock the latticed gate 1 Eefuse the shilling and the fellow's ticket I And hang a wooden notice up to state. On Sundays no admittance at this wicket ! The Birds, the Beasts, and aU the Reptile race, Denied to friends and visitors till Monday 1 Now, really, this appears the common case Of putting too much Saljbath into Sunday — But what is your opinion, Mrs. Grrundy ? 13 S90 BATlKlCiAL, The Gardens — so unlike the ones we dub Of Tea, wherein the artisan carouses — Mere shi-ubberies without one drop of shrub — Wherefore sliould they be closed like pubLc-houses ? No ale is vended at the wild Deer's Head — No rum — nor gin — not even of a Monday — The Lion is not carved — or gilt — or red, And does not send out porter of a Sunday — But what is your opinion, Mrs. Grundy ? The Bear denied I the Leopard under locks I As if his spots would give contagious fevers ! The Beaver close as hat within its box ; So different from other Sunday beavers 1 The Birds invisible — the Gnaw- way Eats — The Seal hermetically sealed till Monday— The Monkey tribe — the Family of Cats — We visit other families on Sunday — But what is your opinion, Mrs. Grundy Wliat is the brute profanity that shocks The super-sensitively serious feehng ? The Kangaroo — is he not orthodox To bend his legs, the way he does, in kneeling ? Was strict Sir Andrew, in his Sabbath coat, Struck all a-heap to see a Coati viundi f Or did the Kentish Plumtree faint to note The Pehcans presenting bills on Sunday ?— But what is your opinion, Mrs. Grundy '( What feature has repulsed the serious set ? What error in the bestial birth or breeding, To put their tender fancies on the fi'et ? One thing is plain — it is not in the feeding I Some stiffish people think that smoking joints Are carnal sins 'twixt Saturday and Monday— But then the beasts are pious on these points. For they all eat cold dinners on a Sunday — But what is your opinion, Mrs. Grundy ? What change comes o'er the spirit of the place, As if transmuted by some spell orga,nic ? SATIRICAL. 291 Turns fell Hyena of the Ghoulish race ? The Snake, pro tempore^ the true Satanic? Do Irish minds — (whose theory allows That now and then Good Friday falls on Monday) — Do Irish minds suppose that Indian Cows Are wicked Bulls of Bashan on a Sunday ? — But what is your opinion, Airs. Grundy ? There are some moody Fellows, not a few, Who, turned by nature with a gloomy bias, Renounce black devils to adopt the blue. And think when they are dismal they are pious : fs 't possible that Pug's untimely fun Has sent the brutes to Coventry till Monday ? — Or perhaps some animal, no serious one, Was overheard in laughter on a Sunday — But what is your opinion, Mrs. Grundy ? What dire oifense have serious Fellows found To raise their spleen against the Regent's spiimey ? Were charitable boxes handed round. And would not Guinea Pigs subscribe their guinea? Perchance, the Demoiselle refused to molt The feathers in her head — at least till Monday ; Or did the Elephant, unseemly, bolt A tract presented to be read on Sunday ? — But what is your opinion, Mrs. Grundy ? At whom did Leo struggle to get loose ? Who mourns through Monkey-tricks his damaged cloth- ing? Who has been hissed by the Canadian Goose ? On whom did Llama spit in utter loathing ? Some Smithfield Saint did jealous feelings tell To keep the Puma out of sight tOl Monday, Because he preyed extempore as well As certain wild Itinerants on Sunday — But what is your opinion, Mrs. Grundy ? To me it seems that in the oddest way (Begging the pardon of each rigid Socms) 292 SATIRICAL. Our would-be Keepers of the Sabbath-day Are like the Keepers of the brutes ferocious — As soon the Tiger might expect to stalk About the grounds from Saturday till Monday, As any harmless man to take a walk, If Saints could clap him in a cage on Sunday — Buf what is your opinion, Mrs. Grrundy ? In spite of all hypocrisy can spin, As surely as I am a Christian scion, I cannot think it is a mortal sin — (Unless he 's loose) — to look upon a lion. I really think that one may go, perchance. To see a bear, as guiltless as on Monday — (That is, provided that he did not dance) — Bruin 's no worse than bakin' on a Sunday — But what is your opinion, Mrs. Grundy ? In spite of all the fanatic compiles, I can not think the day a bit diviner, Because no children, with forestaUing smiles, Throng, happy, to the gates of Eden Minor — It is not plain, to my poor faith at least. That what we christen " Natural" on Monday, The wondrous history of Bird and Beast, Can be unnatural because it's Sunday — But what is your opinion, Mrs. Grundy? Whereon is sinful fantasy to work ? The Dove, the Avinged Columbus of man's haven ? The tender Love-Bird — or the filial Stork ? The punctual Crane — the providential Raven ? The PeUcan whose bosom feeds her young ? Nay, must we cut from Saturday till Monday That feathered marvel with a human tongue. Because she does not preach upon a Sunday — But what is your opinion, Mrs. Grundy ? The busy Beaver — that sagacious beast I The Sheep that owned an Oriental Shepherd — That Desert-ship, the Camel of the East, The horned Rhinoceros — ^the spotted Leopard — S A T 1 K 1 O A L . 29? The Creatures of the Great Creator's hand Are surely sights for better days than Monday^ The Elephant, although he wears no band, Has he no sermon in his trunk for Sunday ? — But what Ls your opinion, Mrs. Grundy ? What harm if men who burn the midnight-oil, Weary of frame, and worn and wan of feature, Seek once a week their spirits to assoil. And snatch a glimpse of " Animated Nature ?" Better it were if, in his best of suits, The artisan, wlio goes to work on Monday, Should spend a leisure-hour among the brutes. Than make a beast of his own self on Sunday— But what is your opinion, Mrs. Grundy ? Wliy, zovmds ! what raised so Protestant a fuss (Omit the zounds 1 for which I make apology) But that the Papists, like some Fellows, thus Had somehow mixed up Dens with their Theology ? Ts Brahma's Bull — a Hindoo god at home — A Papal Bull to be tied up till Monday ? — Or Leo, like his namesake, Pope of Rome, That there is such a di-ead of them on Sunday — But what is your opinion, Mrs. Grundy ? Spirit of Kant ! have we not had enough To make Religion sad, and sour, and snubbish, But Saints Zoological must cant their stufl', As vessels cant their ballast — ratthng rubbish 1 Once let the sect, triumphant to their text, Shut Nero up from Saturday till Monday, And sure as fate they will deny us next To see the Dandelions on a Sunday— But what is your opinion, Mrs. Grundy ? 294 SATIBICAL. ODE TO RAE WILSON, ESQUIRE.* THOMAS nOOD. " Close, close yoiir eyes with holy dread, And weave a circle round him thiice ; For he on honey-dew hath fed, And drunk the milk of Paradise 1" — Coleeidqe. " It 's very hard them kind of men Won't let a hody be."— Old Ballad. A WANDERER, Wilson, from my native land, Remote, Rae, from godliness and thee, Where rolls between us the eternal sea, Besides some furlongs of a foreign sand — Beyond the broadest Scotch of London Wall ; Beyond the loudest Saint that has a call ; Across the wavy waste between us stretched, A friendly missive warns me of a stricture. Wherein my likeness you have darkly etched, And though I have not seen the shadow sketched, Thus I remark prophetic on the picture. I guess the features : — in a Hne to paint Their moral ugliness, I 'm not a saint. Not one of those self-constituted saints, Quacks — not physicians — in the cure of souls, Censors who sniff out moral taints. And call the devil over his own coals — Those pseudo Privy Councillors of God, Who write down judgments with a pen hard-nibbed : Ushers of Beelzebub's Black Rod, Commending sinners not to ice tliick-ribbed, But endless flames, to scorch them Uke flax — Yet sure of heaven themselves, as if they 'd cribbed The impression of St. Peter's keys in wax I - Of such a character no single trace Exists, I know, in my fictitious face ; There wants a certain cast about the eye ; • Who had, in one of his books, characterized some of Hood's verses as " pro fanoness and ribaldry." SATIRICAL. 295 A certaiu lifting of the nose's tip ; A certain curling of the nether hp, In scorn of all that is, beneath the sky ; In brief, it is an aspect deleterious, A face decidedly not serious, A face profane, that would not do at all To make a face at Exeter Hall — That Hall where bigots rant, and cant, and pray, And laud each other face to face, Till every farthing-candle ray Conceives itself a great gas-hght of grace 1 Well ! — be the graceless lineaments confest ! I do enjoy this bounteous beauteous earth ; And dote upon a jest " Within the limits of becoming mirth ;" — No solemn sanctimonious face I pull. Nor think I 'm pious when I 'm only bilious — Nor study in my sanctum supercilious To frame a Sabbath BUI or forge a Bulk I pray for grace — repent each sinful act — Peruse, but underneath the rose, my Bible ; And love my neighbor, far too well, in fact, To call and twit him with a godly tract That 's turned by apphcation to a Ubel. My heart ferments not with the bigot's leaven, All creeds I view with toleration thorough, And have a horror of regarding heaven As any body's rotten borough. What else ? No part I take in party fray, With tropes from Billingsgate's slang-whanging Tartars, I fear no Pope — and let great Ernest play At Fox and Goose with Fox's Martyrs ! I own I laugh at over-righteous men, I own I shake my sides at ranters, And treat sham Abr'am saints with wicked banters, I even own, that there are times — but then It 's when I 've got my wine — I say d canteral 1 've no ambition to enact the spy On fellow-souls, a spiritual Pry — 296 S A T I U 1 C A L . 'Tis said that people ought to guard theii' noses Who thrust them into matters none of theii-s And, though uo delicacy discomposes Your saint, yet I consider faith and prayers Among the privatest of men's afiau's. I do not hash the Gospel in my books, And thus upon the pubUc mind intrude it, As if I thought, like Otaheitan cooks. No food was fit to eat till I had chewed iL On Bible stilts I don't affect to stalk ; Nor lard with Scripture my familiar talk — For man may pious texts repeat. And yet religion have no inward seat ; 'Tis not so plain as the old HiU of Howth, A man has got his belly full of meat Because he talks with victuals in his mouth 1 Mere verbiage — it is not worth a carrot 1 Why, Socrates or Plato — where 's the odds ?— Once taught a Jay to supplicate the gods, And made a Polly- theist of a Parrot ! A mere professor, spite of all his cant, is Not a whit better than a Mantis — An insect, of what clime I can't determine, That lifts its paws most parson-hke, and thenea. By simple savages — through sheer pretense — Is reckoned quite a saint among the vermin. But where 's the reverence, or where the noijs. To ride on one's reUgion tlirough the lobby, Whether as stalking-horse or hobbv, To show its pious paces to " the house." I honestly confess that I would hinder The Scottish member's legislative rigs, That spiritual Pindar, Who looks on erring souls as straying pigs. That must be lashed by law, wherever found, And driven to church as to the parish pound. S A T 1 li I A L, 291 I do confess, without reserve or wheedle, I view that grovehng idea as one Worthy some parisli clerk's ambitious son, A charity-boy who longs to be a beadle. On such a vital topic sure 'tis odd How much a man can differ from his neighbor ; One wishes worship freely given to God, Another wants to make it statute-labor — The broad distinction in a Hne to draw. As means to lead us to the skies above, You say — Sir Andrew and his love of law. And I — the Saviour with his law of love. Spontaneously to God should tend the soul. Like the magnetic needle to the Pole ; But what were that intrinsic virtue worth. Suppose some fellow with more zeal than knowledge. Fresh from St. Andrew's college. Should nail the conscious needle to the north ? I do confess that I abhor and shrink From schemes, with a rehgious willy-nilly, That frown upon St. Giles' sins, but blink The peccadilloes of all Piccadilly — My soul revolts at such bare hypocrisy, And will not, dare not, fancy in accord The Lord of hosts ^vith an exclusive lord Of this world's aristocracy. It will not own a nation so unholy. As thinldng that the rich by easy trips May go to heaven, whereas the poor and lowly Must work their passage as they do in ships. One place there is — ^beneath the burial-sod, Where all mankind are equalized by death ; Another place there is — the Fane of God, Where all are equal who draw living breath ;— Juggle who will elsewhere with his own soul, Playing the Judas with a temporal dole — He who can come beneath that awful cope, In the dread presence of a Maker just. Who metes to every pinch of human dust One even measure of immortal hope — 13* 298 SATIlllCAI He who can staud witliin that holy door, With soul unbowed by that pure spirit-level. And frame unequal laws for rich and poor, — Might.sit for Hell, and represent the Devil ! Such are the solemn sentiments, Rae, In your last journey-work, perchance, you ravage, Seeming, but in more courtly terms, to say I 'm but a heedless, creedless, godless, savage ; A very G-uy, deserving fire and faggots, — A scoffer, always on the grin. And sadly given to the mortal sin Of Uking Mawworms less than merry maggots 1 The humble records of my life to search, I have not terded with mere pagan beasts : But sometimes I have " sat at good men's feasts," And I have been " where bells have knoUed to church." Dear bells I how swe6t the sound of village beUs When on the undulating air they swim 1 Now loud as welcomes 1 faint, now, as farewells I And trembhng all about the breezy dells. As fluttered by the wings of Cherubim. Meanwhile the bees are chanting a low hymn ; And lost to sight the ecstatic lark above Sings, like a soul beatified, of love, With, now and then, the coo of the wild pigeon : — pagans, heathens, infidels, and doubters ! If such sweet sounds can't woo you to religion. Will the harsh voices of church cads and touters ? A man may cry Church ! Church ! at every word, With no more piety than other people — A daw's not reckoned a religious bird Because it keeps a-cawing from a steeple ; The Temple is a good, a holy place, But quacking only gives it an ill savor ; While saintly mountebanlcs the porch disgrace, And brino; relisfion's self into disfavor ! o Behold yon servitor of God and Mammon, Wlio, bindijig up his Bible with his ledger, SATIRICAL. 299 Blends Gospel texts with trading gammon, A black-leg saint, a spiritual hedger, Who backs his rigid Sabbath, so to speak. Against the wicked remnant of the week, A saving bet against his sinful bias — " Rogue that I am," he whispers to himself, " I lie — I cheat — do any tiling for pelf, But who on earth can say I am not pious !" In proof how over-righteousness re-acts, Accept an anecdote well based on facts ; On Sunday morning — (at the day don't fret) — In riding with a friend to Ponder's End Outside the stage, we happened to command A certain mansion that we saw To Let. " Ay," cried our coachman, with our talk to grapple, " You 're right ! no house along the road comes nigh it I 'T was built by the same man as built yon chapel, And master wanted once to buy it, — But t' other driv' the bargain much too hard, — He axed snre-ly a sum prodigious 1 But being so particular rehgious. Why, that you see, put master on his guard 1" Church is " a httle heaven below, I have been there and still would go,"- - Tet I am none of those who think it odd A man can pray unbidden from the cassock. And, passing by the customary hassock Kneel down remote upon the simple sod, And sue in forma pauperis to God. As for the rest, — intolerant to none, Whatever shape the pious rite may bear, Even the poor Pagan's homage to the sun I would not harshly scorn, lest even there I spurned some elements of Christian prayer — An aim, though erring, at a " world ayont" — Acknowledgment of good — of man's futility, A sense of need, and weakness, and indeed That very tiling so many Christians want — Humihty. 100 S A T 1 li 1 C A r. . Such, unto Papists, Jews or Tuibaned Turks, Such is my spirit — (I don't mean my wraith !) Such, may it please you, is my humble faith ; I know, fuU well, you do not like my works 1 I have not sought, 'tis true, the Holy Land, As full of texts as Cuddle Headrigg's mother, The Bible in one hand, And my own common-place-book in the other— But you have been to Palestine — alas I Some minds improve by travel — others, rather, Resemble copper wire or brass. Which gets the narrower by going further 1 Worthless are all such pilgrimages — very ! If Palmers at the Holy Tomb contrive The humans heats and rancor to revive That at the Sepulcher they ought to bury. A sorry sight it is to rest the eye on, To see a Christian creature graze at Sion, Then homeward, of the saintly pasture full. Rush bellowing, and breathing fire and smoke, At crippled Papistry to butt and poke, Exactly as a skittish Scottish bull Haunts an old woman in a scarlet cloak. Why leave a serious, moral, pious home, Scotland, renowned for sanctity of old, Far distant Catholics to rate and scold For — doing as the Romans do at Rome ? With such a bristling spirit wherefore quit The Land of Cakes for any land of wafers, About the graceless images to flit, And buzz and chafe importunate as chafers. Longing to carve the carvers to Scotch coUops ?- People who hold such absolute opinions Should stay at home in Protestant dominions, Not travel like male Mrs. Trollopes. Gifted with noble tendency to climb, Yet weak at the same time, SATIKICAL. 301 Fa.th is a kind of parasitic plant, That grasps the nearest stem with tendiil rings ; And as the cUmate and the soil may grant, So is the sort of tree to wliich it clino-s. Consider, then, before, like Hurlothrumbo, You aim your club at any creed on earth, That, by the simple accident of birth. You might have been High Priest to Mungo Jumbo. For me — through heathen ignorance perchance, Not having knelt in Palestine, — I feel None of that griffinish excess of zeal, Some travelers would blaze with here in i'rance. Dolls I can see in Virgin-hke array, Nor for a scuffle with the idols hanker Like crazy Quisotte at the puppet's play, If their " offense be rank," should mine be rancor ? Mild hght, and by degrees, should be the plan To cure the dark and errin^ On the day of rest divine, He poor townsfolk would confine In their crowded streets and lanes, Where they can not hear your strains. All the week they drudge away. Having but one holiday ; No more time for you, than that — Unlike bishops, rich and fat. • Appeared at the time of the Anti-popery excitement, produced by the titlei of Cardinal Wiseman, etc. SATIRICAL. 32f Utter not your cheerful sounds, Therefore, in the bishop's grounds ; Make him melody no more, Who denies you to the poor. Linnet, hist ! and blackbird, hush I Throstle, be a songless thrush ; Nightingale and lark, be mute ; Never sing to such a brute. Robin, at the twilight dim. Never let thine evening hymn, Bird of red and ruthful breast, Lend the bishop's Port a zest. Soothe not, birds, liis lonesome hours, Keeping us from fields and flowers, Who to pen us tries, instead, 'Mong the intramural dead. Only let the raven croak At him from the rotten oak ; Let the magpie and the jay Chatter at liim on liis way. And when he to rest has laid him, Let his ears the screech-owl harry ; And the night-jar serenade him With a proper charivari. THE FIRST SENSIBLE VALENTINE. 'one of thk most astonishing fruits of the emigration mania) PUNCH. Let other swains, upon the best cream-laid Or wire-wove note, their amorous strains indite ; Or, in despair, invoke the limner's aid To paint the sufferings they can not write : B26 SATIRICAL. Upon uheir page, transfixed with numerous darta, Let slender youths in agony expire ; Or, on one spit, let two pale pink calves' hearts Roast at some fierce imaginary fire. Let Angelina there, as in a bower Of shrubs, unknown to Lindley, she reposes, See her own Alfred to the old church tower Led on by Cupid, in a chain of roses ; Or let the wreath, when raised, a cage reveal, Wherein two doves their Mttle bills entwine ; (A vile device, which always makes me feel Marriage would only add your bills to mine.) For arts like these I 've neither skill nor time ; But if you '11 seek the Diggings, dearest maid, And share my fortune in that happier cUme, Your berth is taken, and your passage paid. For reading, lately, in my list of things, " Twelve dozen shirts I twelve dozen collars," tool The horrid host of buttons and of strings Flashed on my spirit, and I thought — of you. " Surely," I said, as in my chest I dived — That vast receptacle of all things known — " To teach this truth my outfit was contrived, It is not good for man to be alone I" Then fly with me ! My bark is on the shore (Her mark A 1, her size eight hundred tons). And though she 's nearly full, can take some more Dry goods, by measurement — say Green and Sons. Yes, fly with nie ! Had all our friends been blind. We might have married, and been happy here ; But since young married folks the means must fijid The eyes of stern society to cheer. And satisfy its numerous demands, I think 'twill save us many a vain expense, If on our wedding cards tliis Notice stands, " At Home, at Ballarat, just three months hence 1" SATIJBICAL. 327 A SCENE ON THE AUSTRIAN FRONT/ER. PUNCH. "Det naust not pass !'' was the warning cry of the Austrian sen- tinel To o' T whose Httle knapsack bore the books he loved so well. '' Thf V must not pass ? Now, wherefore not ?" the wond'ring tourist cried ; ■'No English book can pass mit me ;" the sentinel replied. The tourist laughed a scornful laugh ; quoth he, " Indeed, I hope There are few English books would please a Kaiser or a Pope ; But these are books in common use : plain truths and facts they teU— " " Der Teufel ! Den dey most not pass !" said the startled sentinel " This Handbook to North Germany, by worthy Mr. Murray, Need scarcely put your government in such a mighty flurry ; If tourists' handbooks be proscribed, pi'ay have you ever tried To find a treasonable page in Bradshaws Railway Guide ? This map, again, of Switzerland — nay, man, you need n't start or Look black at such a little map, as if 't were Magna Charta ; I know it is the land of Tell, but, curb your idle fury — We 've not the slightest hope, to-day, to find a Tell in your eye (Uri)." " Sturmwetter !" said the sentinel, " Come ! cease dis idle babbles I Was ist dis oder book I see ? Das Haus mit sieben Grabbles? I nevvare heard of him bifor, ver mosh I wish I had, For now Ich kaun nicht let him pass, for fear he should be bad. Das Haus of Commons it must be ; Ja wohl ! 'tis so, and den Die Sieben Gabbles are de talk of your chief public men ; Potzmiekchen ! it is dreadful books. Ja ! Ja ! I know him well ; Hoch Himmel I here he most not pass :" said the learned sen- tinel: •' Dis Plato, too, I ver mosh fear, he will corrupt the land, He has soch many long big words, Ich kann nicht onderstand." '' My friend," the tourist said, " I fear you 're really in the way to Quite change the proverb,' and be friends with neither Truth nor Plato 328 SATIRICAL. My books, 'tis true, are little worth, but they have served me long, And I regard the greatness less than the nature of the wrong; So, if the books must stay behind, I stay behind as well." "Es ist mir nichts, mein lieber Freund," said the courteous sen- tinel. ODE TO THE GREAT SEA-SERPENT ON HIS WON- DERFUL REAPPEARANCE. PUNCH. From what abysses of the unfathom'd sea Turnest thou up, Great Serpent, now and then, If we may venture to believe in thee, And affidavits of sea-faring men ? What whirlpool gulf to thee affords a home ! Amid the unknown depths where dost thou dwell ? If— hke the mermaid, with her glass and comb — Thou art not what the vulgar call a Sell. Art thou, indeed, a serpent and no sham? Or, if no serpent, a prodigious eel. An entity, though modified by flam, A basking shark, or monstrous kind of seal ? I'll think that thou a true Opliidian art; I can not say a reptile of the deep. Because thou dost not play a reptile's part; Thou swimmest, it appears, and dost not creep. The Captain was not Walker but M'Qun^, I '11 trust, by whom thou some time since wast seen ; An d him who says he saw thee t'other day, I will not bid address the corps marine. Sea-Serpent, art thou venomous or not ? What sort of snake may be thy class and style ? That of Mud-Python, by Apollo shot. And mentioned — rather often — by Carlyle? SA.TJKICAL. 329 Or, art tliou but a serpent of the mind ? Doubts, though subdued, will oft recur again — A serpent of the visionary kind, Proceeding from the grog-oppressed brain ? Art thou a giant adder, or huge asp, And hast thou got a rattle at thy tail ? If of the Boa species, couldst thou clasp Within thy fold, and suffocate, a whale ? How long art thou ? — Some sixty feet, they say. And more — but how much more they do not know: I fancy thou couldst reach across a bay From head to head, a dozen miles or so. Scales hast thou got, of course — but what 's thy weight ? On either side 'tis said thou hast a fin, A crest, too, on thy neck, deponents state, A saw-shaped ridge of flabby, dabby skin. If I could clutch thee — in a giant's grip — Could I retain thee in that grasp subhme ? Wouldst thou not quickly through my fingers slip. Being all over glazed with fishy slime ? Hast thou a forked tongue — and dost thou hiss If ever thou art bored with Ocean's play ? And is it the correct hypothesis That thou of gills or lungs dost breathe by way ? What spines, or spikes, or claws, or nav^, or fin. Or paddle, Ocean-Serpent, dost thou bear ? What kind of teeth show'st thou when thou dost grin ? — A set that probably would make one stare, W^hat is thy diet ? Canst thou gulp a shoal Of herrings ? Or hast thou the gorge and room To bolt fat porpoises and dolphins, whole, By dozens, e'en as oysters we consume ? Art thou alone, thou serpent, on the brine, The sole surviving member of thy race ? Ts there no brother, sister, wife, of tliine, But thou alone, afloat on Ocean's face ? 330 SATIRICAT,. If such a calculation may be made, Thine age at what a figure may we take ? When first the granite mountain-stones were laid, Wast thou not present there and then, old Snake? What fossil Saurians in thy time have been ? How many Mammoths crumbled into mold ? What geologic periods hast thou seen. Long as the tail thou doubtless canst unfold ? As a dead whale, but as a whale, though dead, Thy floating bulk a British crew did strike ; And, so far, none will question what they said, That thou unto a whale wast very hke. A flock of birds a record, rather loose, Describes as hovering o'er thy lengthy hiill ; Among them, doubtless, there was many a Goose, And also several of the genus Gull. « TUE FEAST OF VEGETABLES, AND THE FLOW OP WATER. puNcn. New Tear comes, — so let 's be jolly ; On the board the Turnip smokes, While we sit beneath the holly. Eating Greens and passing jokes How the Cauhflower is steaming. Sweetest flower that ever blows ! See, good old Sir Kidney, beaming, Shows his jovial famed red nose. Here behold the reign of Plenty, — Help the Carrots, hand the Kail ; Roots how nice, and herbs how dainty, Well wa=hed down with Adam's Ale I SATIRICAL. 331 Feed your fill, — untasted only- Let the fragrant onion go ; Or, amid the revels lonely, Go not nigh the mistletoe 1" KINDRED QUACKS. PUNCH. I OVERHEARD two matrons grave, allied by close aflS aity (The name of one was Physic, and the other's was Divinity), As they put their groans together, both so doleful and lugu- brious : Says Physic, " To unload the heart of grief, ma'am, is salubri- ous: Here am I, at my time of life, in this year of our deliverance ; My age gives me a right to look for some esteem and reverence. But, ma'am, I feel it is too true what every body says to me, — Too many of my children are a shame and a disgrace to me." "Ah 1" says Divinity, " my heart can suffer with another, ma'am ; I 'm sure I can well understand your feelings as a mother, ma'am. I 've some, as well, — no doubt but what you 're perfectly aware on't, ma'am. Whose doings bring derision and discredit on their parent, ma am. " There are boys of mine," says Physic, " ma'am, such silly fancies nourishing, As curing gout and stomach-ache by pawing and by flourishing." " Well," says Divinity, " I 've those that teach that Heaven's beatitudes Axe to be earned by postures, genuflexions, bows, and attitudes." " My good-for-nothing sons," says Physic, " some have turned hydropathists. Some taken up with mesmerism, or joined the homoeopathists." 332 SATIRICAL. " Mine," says Divinity, " pursue a system of gimcrackery, Called Puseyism, a pack of stuff, and quite as arrant quackery." Says Phtsic, " J^iiue have sleep-walkers, pretending througli the Mde of you, Tj look, although their eyes are shut, and tell you what 's inside of you." " Ah I" says Divinity, " so mine, with quibbhng and with caviK Would have you, ma'am, to blind yourself, to see the road to travi-1 in." " Mine," Physic says, " have quite renounced their good old pilla and potions, ma'am. For doses of a bUlionth of a grain, and such wUd notions, ma'am." " So," says Divinity, " have mine left wholesome exhortation, ma'am. For credence-tables, reredoses, rood-lofts, and maceration, ma'am." " But hospitals," says Physio, " my misguided boys are founding, " Well," says Divinity, " of mine, the chapels are abounding, ma'am." " Mine are trifling with diseases, ma'am," says Physic, " not at- tacking them." " Mine," says Divinity, " instead of curing souls, are quacking them." " Ah, ma'am," says Physic, " I 'm to blame, I fear, for these ab- surdities." " That's my fear too," Divinity says; " ma'am, upon my word it is." Says Physic, " Fees, not science, have been far too much my wishes, ma'am." " Tj-uth," says Divintty, " I 've loved much less than loaves and fishes, ma'am, ' SATIRICAL. 833 Says each to each, " We 're simpletons, or sad deiieivers, some of us; And I am sure ma'am, I don't know whatever will become of us." THE RAILWAY TRAVELER'S FAREWELL TO HIS FAMILY. PONcn. 'T WAS business call'd a Father to travel by the Rail ; His eye was calm, his hand was firm, although his cheek was paJe. He took his little boy and girl, and set them on liis knee ; And their mother hung about his neck, and her tears flowed fast and free. I 'm going by the Rail, my dears — Eliza, love, don't cry — Now, kiss me both before I leave, and wish Papa good-by. I hope I shall be back again, this afternoon, to tea. And then, I hope, alive and well, that your Papa you '11 see. I 'm going by the Rail, my dears, where the engines puff and hiss ; And ten to one the chances are that something goes amiss ; And in an uistant, quick as thought — before you could cry " Ah I" An accident occurs, and — say good-by to poor Papa ! Sometimes from scandalous neglect, my dears, the sleepers sink. And then you have the carriage:; upset, as you may think. The progi'ess of the train, sometimes, a truck or coal-box checks, And there 's a risk for poor Papa's, and every body's necks. Or there may be a screw loose, a hook, or bolt, or pin — Or else an ill-made tunnel may give way, and tumble in ; And in the wreck the passengers and poor Papa remain Confined, till down upon them comes the next Excursion- train. If a policeman 's careless, dears, or if not over-bright. When he should show a red flag, it may be he shows a white * Between two trains, in consequence, there 's presently a clash, If poor Papa is only bruised, he 's lucky in the smash. ' 33d S ATI KI O A r,. Points may hv badly managed, as they were the other day_ Because a stingy Company for hands enough won't pay ; Over and over goes the train — the engine off the rail, And poor Papa 's unable, when he 's found, to tell the taltJ And should your poor Papa escape, my darlings, with his lite^ May he return on two legs, to his children and his wife — With both his arms, my little dears, return your fond embracfe. And present to you, uiialter'd, every feature of his facis. I hope I shall come back, my dears — but, mind, I am insured- So, in case the worst may happen, you are so far all decured. An action then will also lie for you and your Mammj, — And don't forget to bring it — on account of poor Paja. A LETTER AND AN ANSTVER. PtJNCIL THE PRESBYTERS TO PALMEESTON. The Plague has come among us, Miserable sinners I Fear and remorse have stung us. Miserable sinners ! "We ask the State to fix a day. Whereon all men may fast and pray, That Heaven will please to turn away The Plague that works us sore dismay, Miserable sinners ! PAIiMERSTON TO THE PRESBYTERS. The Plague that comes among you. Miserable sinners ! To effort hath it strung you ? Miserable sinners I You ask that all should fast and pray ; Better all wake and work, I say ; Sloth and supineness put away, That so the Plague may cease to slay ; Miserable sinners I SATlKICAli. 335 For Plagues, like other evils, Miserable sinners ! Are God's and not the Devil's, Miserable sinners I Scourges they are, but in a hand Which love and pity do command ; And when the heaviest stripes do fall, 'Tis where they 're wanted most of all, Miserable sinners I Look round about your city, Miserable sinners I Arouse to shame and pity, Miserable sinners ! Pray : but use brush and limewash pail ; Fast : but feed those for want who fail ; Bow down, gude town, to ask for grac^. But bow with cleaner hands and face, Miserable sinners 1 All Time God's Law hath spoken. Miserable sinnei's I That Law may not be broken, Miserable sinners ! But he that breaks it must endure The penalty which works the cure. To us, for God's great laws transgressed, Is doomsman Pestilence addressed, Miserable sinners ! We can not juggle Heaven, Miserable sinners I With one day out of seven. Miserable sinners ! Shall any force of fests atone For years of duty left undone ? How expiate with prayer or psalm, Deaf ear, blind eye, and folded palm ? Miserable sinners ! Let us be up and stirring. Miserable sinners I 5X36 SATIRICAL. 'Mong ignorant and erring, Miserable sinners 1 Sloth and self-seekins; from us cast. Believing tliis the fittest fast, For of all prayers prayed 'neath the sun There is no prayer Uke work well done, Miserable sinners 1 PAPA TO HIS HEIR, A FAST MINOR. M T son, a father's warning heed ; 1 think my end is nigh : And then, you dog, you wiU succeed Unto my property. But, seeing you are not, just yet, Arrived at man's estate, Before you full possession get, You '11 have a while to wait. A large allowance I allot You during that delay; And I don't recommend you not To throw it all away. To such advice you 'd ne'er attend ; You won't let pruJeuce rule Your courses ; but, I know, will spend Your money Uko a fool. 1 do not ask you to eschew The paths of vice and sin ; You '11 do as all young boobies, who Are left, as you say, tin. puNoa CHAUCER. SATIRICAL. M7 You '11 sot, you '11 bet ; and, being green. At all that 's right you '11 joke ; Your life will be a constant scene Of billiards and of smoke. With bad companions you '11 consort, With creatures vile and base. Who '11 rob you ; yours will be, in short. The puppy's common case. But oh, my son ! although you must Through this ordeal pass. You will not be, I hope — I trust — A wholly senseless ass. Of course at prudence you wUl sneer, On that theme I won't harp ; Be good, I won't say — that 's severe ; But be a little sharp. All rascally associates shun To bid you were too much, But, oh I beware, my spooney OXL Beware one k'ad cf such. It asks no penetrative mind To know these fellows : when You meet them, you, unless you 'r' ^ar/if At once discern the men. The turgid Up, the piggish eye, The nose in form of hook, The rings, the pins, you teE them by. The vulgar flashy look. Spend every sixpence, if you please, But do not, I implore, Oh ! do not go, my son, to these Vultures to borrow more. 15 338 SATIRICAL Live at a foolish wicked rate. My hopeful, if you choose, But don't your means anticipate Through bill-discounting Jews. SELLING OFF AT THE OPERA HOUSE A POETICAL CATALOGUE. PUNCH. Lot One, The well-known village, with bridge, and church, and green, Of half a score divertissements the well-remembered scene. Including six substantial planks, forming the eight-inch ridge On which the happy peasantry came dancing down the bridge. Lot Two, A Sheet of Thunder. Lot Three, A Box of Peas Employed in sending storms of hail to rattle through the trees. Lot Four, A Canvas Mossy Bank for Cupids to repose. Lot Five, The old Stage Watering-pot, complete — except the nose. Lot Six, The favorite Water-mill, used for Amina's dream, Complete, with practicable wheel, and painted canvas stream. Lots Seven to Twelve, Some sundries — A Pair of Sylphide'a Wings ; Three dozen Druid's Dresses (one of them wanting strings). Lots Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen — Three Services of Plate In real papier mdche — all in a decent state ; One of these services includes — its value to increase— A full dessert, each plate of fruit forming a single piece. Lot Seventeen, The Gilded Cup, from which Oenarro quaffed, 'Mid loud applause, night after night, Lucrezias poisoned draught Lots Eighteen, Nineteen, Twenty, Three rich White Satin Skirts. Lot Twenty-one, A set of six Swiss Peasants' Cotton Shirts. Lot Twenty- two. The sheet that backed Masanielld' s tent. Lot Twenty-three, The Long White Wig — in wool — of Bide-ihe- Bent. Lots Twenty-three to Forty, The Fish — Soles, Cod, and Dace — For pelting the Vice-regal Guard in Naples' Market-place. Lot Forty-one, Vesuvius, rather tlie worse for wear. Lots Forty-two to Fifty, Priests' Leggings — at per pai'". Lot Fifty-one, The well-known Throne, with .<)anopy at'd sea.t. And ^ lijk in front, for courtiers to kneel at Sovei^ifcns' faot S ATI EI C AL. 339 Lot Fifty-two, A Royal Robe of Flannel, nearly wliite, Warranted equal to Cashmere — upon the stage at night — With handsome ermine collar thrown elegantly back ; The tails of twisted worsted — pale yellow, tipped with black. Lots Fifty-three to Sixty, Some Jewellery rare — The Crown of Semiramide — complete, with false back hair ; The Order worn by Ferdinand^ when he proceeds to fling His sword and medals at the feet of the astonished king. Lot Sixty-one, The Bellows used in Cinderella's song. Lot Sixty-two, A Document. Lot Sixty-three, A Gong. Lots Sixty-four to Eighty, Of Wigs a large array, Beginning at the Druids down to the present day. Lot Eighty-one, The Bedstead on which Amina falls. Lots Eighty-two to Ninety, Some sets of Outer Walls. Lot Ninety-one, The Furniture of a Grand Ducal Room, Including Chair and Table. Lot Ninety-two, A Tomb. Lot Ninety-three, A set of Elilts. Lot Ninety-four, A RilL Lot Ninety -five, A Scroll, To form death-warrant, deed, or will. Lot Ninety-six, An ample fall of best White Paper Snow. Lot Ninety-seven, A Drinking-cup, brimmed with stout extra tow. Lot Ninety-eight, A Set of Clouds, a Moon, to work on flat ; Water with practicable boat Lot Ninety-nine, A Hat. Lot Hundred, Massive Chandeher. Hundred and one, A Bower. Hundred and two, A Canvas Grove. Hundred and three, A Tower. Hundred and four, A Fountain. Hundred and five, Some Rocks. Hundred and six. The Hood that hides the Prompter in his box. WONDERS OF THE VICTORIAN AGK PUNCH. Our gracious Queen — long may she fill her throne — Has been to see Louis Napoleon, The Majesty of England — bless her heart! — Has cut her mutton with a Bonaparte ; And Cousin Grermans have survived the view Of Albert taking luncheon at St. Cloud. In our young days we httle thought to see Such legs stretched under such mahogany ; 340 SATIKICAL, That British Royalty would ever share At a French Palace, French Imperial fare : Nor eat — as we should have believed at school— The croaking tenant of the marshy pool. At the Trois Freres we had not feasted then, As we have since, and hope to do again. This great event of course could not take place Without fit prodigies for such a case ; The brazen pig-tail of King George the Thii'd Thrice with a horizontal motion stirr'd. Then rose on end, and stood so all day long, Amid the cheers of an admiring throng. In every lawyer's office Eldon shed From plaster nose three heavy drops of red. Each Statue, too, of Pitt turn'd up the point Of its proboscis — was that out of joint ? While Charles James Fox's grinn'd fi-om ear to ear, And Peel's emitted frequent cries of " Hear 1" TO THE PORTRAIT OF "A GENTLEMAN,' IN THE ATHENjEUM GALLERY. OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. It may be so — perhaps thou hast A warm and loving heart ; I will not blame thee for thy face, Poor devil as thou art That thing, thou fondly deem'st a nose, Unsightly though it be, — In spite of all the cold world's scorn, It may be much to thee. Those eyes, — among thine elder friends Perhaps they pass for blue ; — No matter, — if a man can see, What more have eyes to do ? SATIEICAL. 341 Thy mouth — that fissure in thy face By something hke a chia, — May be a very useful place To put thy victual in. I know thou hast a wife at home, I know thou hast a child, By that subdued, domestic smUe Upon thy features mild. That wife sits fearless by thy side, That chenib on thy knee ; They do not shudder at thy looks, They do not shrink from thee. Above thy mantel is a hook, — A portrait once was there ; It was thine only ornament, — Alas I that hook is bare. She begged thee not to let it go. She begged thee all in vain : She wept, — and breathed a trembling prayer To meet it safe again. It was a bitter sight to see That picture torn away ; It was a solemn thought to think What all her friends would say f And often in her calmer hours, And in her happy dreams, Upon its long-deserted hook The absent portrait seems. Thy wretched infant turns hia head In melancholy vsdse, And looks to meet the placid stare Of those unbending eyes. 3J2 SATIRICAL. I never saw thee, lovely one, — Perchance I never may ; It is not often that we cross Such people in our way ; But if we meet in distant years, Or on some foreign shore. Sure I can take my Bible oath I 've seen that face before. MY AUNT. OLIVER WENDELL HOLMEa My aunt ! my dear unmarried aunt 1 Long years have o'er her flown ; Yet stUl she strains the aching clasp That binds her virgin zone ; I know it hurts her— though she looks As cheerful as she can ; Her waist is ampler than her Ufe, For life is but a span. My aunt I my poor deluded aimtl Her hair is almost gray ; Why will she train that winter curl In such a spring-like way ? How can she lay her glasses down, And say she reads as well. When, through a double convex lens, She just makes out to spell ? Her father — grandpapa I forgive This erring lip its smiles — Vowed she should make the finest girl Within a hundred miles ; He sent her to a stylish school ; 'T was in her thirteenth June ; And with her, as the rules required, " Two towels and a spoon." SATIRICAL. 343 They braced my aunt against a board, To make her straight and tall ; They laced her up, they starved her down, To make her Ught and small. They pinched her feet, they singed her hair, They screwed it up with pins ; — O never mortal suffered more In penance for her sins. So, when my precious aunt was done, My grandsire brought her back ; (By daylight, lest some rabid youth Might follow on the track ;) "Ah I" said my grandsire, as he shook Some powder in his pan, " What could this lovely creature do Against a desperate manl" Alas ! nor chariot, nor barouche, Nor bandit cavalcade, Tore from the trembling father's arms His all-accomplished maid. For her how happy had it been 1 And heaven had spared to me To see one sad, ungathered rose On my ancestral tree. COMIC MISERIES. JOHN G. SAXK. My dear young friend, whose shining wit Sets all the room a-blaze. Don't think yourself a " happy dog," For all your merry ways ; But learn to wear a sober phiz. Be stupid, if you can. It 's such a very serious thing To be a funny man ! 344 SATIRICAL. You 're at an evening party, ^vith A group of pleasant folks, — You venture quietly to crack The least of little jokes, — A lady does n't catch the point, And begs you to explain — Alas for one that drops a jest And takes it up again I You 're talking deep philosophy With very special force. To edify a clergyman With suitable discourse, — You think you 've got him — when he calls A friend across the way, And begs you '11 say that funny thing You said the other day 1 You drop a pretty jeu-de-mot Into a neighbor's ears, Who Ukes to give you credit for The clever thing he hears. And so he hawks your jest about, The old authentic one, Just breaking off the point of it. And leaving out the pun ! By sudden change in poUtics, Or sadder change in Polly, You, lose your love, or loaves, and fall A prey to melancholy. While every body marvels why Your mirth is under ban, — They think your very grief " a joke," You 're such a funny man I You follow up a stylish card That bids you come and dine. And bring along your freshest wit (To pay for musty wine), SATIllICAL. 341 You 're looking very dismal, when My lady bounces in, And wonders what you 're thinking of, And why you don't begin 1 You 're tilling to a knot of friends A fancy-tale of woes That cloud your matrimonial sky, And banish all repose — A solemn lady overhears The stoiy of your strife, And tells the town the pleasant news : You quarrel with your wife I My dear young friend, whose shining wit Sets all the room a-blaze, Don't think yourself " a happy dog," For aU your merry ways ; But learn to wear a sober phiz, Be stupid, if you can, It 'a such a very serious thing To be a funny man I IDEES NAPOLEONIENNES. WILLIAM ^rfbcm. The impossibiUty of translating this now -Hrell-known expresBio* (Imperfectly rendered in a companion-work, " Ideas of Napoleonism"), wUl exwise the tiUa and burden of the present baUad being left in the original French.— Tbans- LATOB. Come, Usten all who wish to learn How nations should be ruled. From one who from his youth has been In such-like matters school'd ; From one who knows the art to please, Improve and govern men — Eh lien I Ecoutez, aux Idees, NapoUoniennes I To keep the mind intently fixed On number One alone — 15* 346 SATIRICAL, To look to no one's interest, But push along your own, Without the slightest reference To how, or what, or when — Eh lien I c'est la premiere Idee NapoUordenne. To make a friend, and use him well, By which, of course, I mean To use him up — until he 's drain'd Completely dry and clean Of all that makes him useful, and To kick him over then Without remorse — dest une Idie NapoUonienne. To sneak into a good man's house With sham credentials penn'd — To sneak into his heart and trust, And seem his children's friend — To learn his secrets, find out where He keeps his keys — and then To bone his spoons — c'est une Idee NapoUonienne. To gain your point in view — to wads Through dirt, and sUme, and blood- To stoop to pick up what you want Through any depth of mud. But always in the fire to thrust Some helpless cat's-paw, when Your chestnuts burn — c'est une Idee NapoUonienne. To clutch and keep the lion's share — To kill or drive away The wolves, that you upon the lambs May, unmolested, prey — To keep a gang of jackals fierce To guard and stock your den, While you he down — c'est une Idee NapoUonienne. SATIRICAL. 347 To bribe the base, to crush the good, And bring them to their knees — To stick at nothing, or to stick At what or whom you please — To stoop, to lie, to brag, to swear, Forswear, and swear again — To rise — Ah I void, des Idtes NapoUonienn es. THE LAY OF THE LOVER'S FRIEND, WILLIAM AYTOUN. Am—" The days we went a-gipsying." I WOULD all womankind were dead, Or banished o'er the sea ; For they have been a bitter plague These last six weeks to me : It is not that I 'm touched myself, For that I do not fear ; No female face hath shown me grace For many a bygone year. But 'tis the most infernal bore. Of all the bores I know. To have a friend who 's lost his heart A short time ago. Whene'er we steam it to BlackwaU, Or down to Greenwich run, To quaff the pleasant cider cup, And feed on fish and fun ; Or climb the slopes of Richmond Hill, To catch a breath of air : Then, for my sins, he straight begins To rave about his fair. Oh, 'tis the most tremendous bore, Of all the bores I know, To have a friend who 's lost his heart A short time ago 84S SATIRICAL. In vain you pour into his ear Your own confiding grief; In vain you claim his sympathy, In vain you ask relief; In vain you try to rouse him by Joke, repartee, or quiz ; His sole reply 's a burning sigh. And "What a mind it is!" Lord I it is the greatest bore, Of all the bores I know, To have a friend who 's lost his heart A short time ago. 1 've heard her thoroughly described A hundred times, I 'm sure ; And all the wliile I 've tried to smile, And patiently endure ; He waxes strong upon his paugs. And potters o'er his grog ; And stiU I say, in a playful way — " Why you 're a lucky dog !" But oh ! it is tlie heaviest bore, Of all the bores I know. To have a friend who 's lost his heart A short time ago. I really wish he 'd do like me When I was young and strong ; 1 formed a passion every week, But never kept it long. But he has not the sportive mood That always rescued me. And so I would all women could Be banished o'er the sea. For 'tis the most egregious bore, Of all the bores I know. To have a friend who 's lost his heart A short time ago. PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. / PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. WINE. JOHN GAT, Nulla placere diu, nee vivere carmina possunt, Qu£e scribuutur aquee potoribus. Hob. Of happiness terrestrial, and the source Whence human pleasures flow, sing, heavenly Muse I Of sparkling juices, of the enlivening grape. Whose quickening taste adds vigor to the soul, Whose sovereign power revives decaying nature, And thaws the frozen blood of hoary Age, A kindly warmth diffusing ; — youthful fires Gild his dim eyes, and paint with ruddy hue His wrinkled visage, ghastly wan before : Cordial restorative to mortal man, With copious hand by bounteous gods bestow'd 1 Bacchus divine ! aid my adventurous song, " That with no middle flight intends to soar •' Inspir'd subUme, on Pegasean wing. By thee upborne, I draw Miltonic air. When fumy vapors clog our loaded brows With furrow' d frowns, when stupid downcast eyes. The external symptoms of remorse within, Express our grief, or when in sullen dumps, With head incumbent on expanded palm. Moping we sit, in silent sorrow drown'd ; Whether inveigling Hymen has trepann'd The unwary youth, and tied the gordian knot Of jangling wedlock not to be dissolv'd; Worried all day by loud Xantippe's din, Wlio fails not to exalt him to the stars. And fix him there among the branched crew 352 PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. (Taurus, and Aries, and Capricorn, The greatest monsters of the Zodiac), Or for the loss of anxious worldly pelf, Or Celia's scornful slights, and cold disdain, Which check' d his amorous flame with coy repulse, The worst events that mortals can befall ; By cares depress'd, in pensive hippish mood, With slowest pace the tedious minutes roll. Thy charming sight, but much more charming gust, New life incites, and warms our chilly blood. Straight with pert looks we raise our drooping fronts, And pour in crystal pure thy purer juice ; — With cheerful countenance and steady hand Raise it lip-high, then fix the spacious rim To the expecting mouth : — with grateful taste The ebbing wine glides swiftly o'er the tongue ; The circHng blood with quicker motion flies : Such is thy powerful influence, thou straight Dispell'st those clouds that, lowering dark, eclips'd The whilom glories of the gladsome face ; — While dimpled cheeks, and sparkling rolling eyes, Thy cheering virtues, and thy worth proclaim. So mists and exhalations that arise From " hiUs or steamy lake, dusky or gray," Prevail, till Phoebus sheds Titanian rays. And paints their fleecy skirts with shining gold ; Unable to resist, the foggy damps, That vail'd the surface of the verdant fields, At the god's penetrating beams disperse ! The earth again in former beauty smiles, In gaudiest hvery drest, all gay and clear. When disappointed Strephon meets repulse, ScofFd at, despis'd, in melancholic mood Joyless he wastes in sighs the lazy hours, Tii reinforc'd by thy most potent aid He storms the breach, and wins the beauteous fort To pay thee homage, and receive thy blessing. The British seaman quits his native shore, And ventures through the trackless, deep abyss. Plowing the ocean, while the upheav'd oak, " With beaked prow, rides tilting o'er the waves;" Sbock'd by tempestuous jarring winds, she rolls PARODIES AND BUKLESQUES. 853 In dangers imminent, till she arrives At those blest cHmes thou favor'st with thy presence. Whether at Lusitania's sultry coast, Or lofty TeneriiFe, Palma, Ferro, Provence, or at the Celtiberian shores, With gazing pleasure and astonishment, At Paradise (seat of our ancient sire) He thinks himself arrived : the purple grapes, In largest clusters pendent, grace tlie vines Innumerous : in fields grotesque and wild. They with implicit curls the oak entwine, And load with fruit divine his spreading boughs: Sight most delicious I not an irksome thought, Or of left native isle, or absent friends. Or dearest wife, or tender sucking babe. His kindly treacherous memory now presents ; The jovial god has left no room for cares. Celestial Liquor I thou that didst inspire Maro and Flaccus, and the G-recian bard. With loftjr numbers, and heroic strains Unparallel'd, with eloquence profound, And arguments convictive, didst enforce Fam'd Tully, and Demosthenes renown'd ; Ennius, first Ikm'd in Latin song, in vain Drew Heliconian streams, ungrateful whet To jaded Muse, and oft with vain attempt. Heroic acts, in flagging numbers dull, With pains essay' d ; but, abject still and low, His unrecruited Muse could never reach The mighty theme, till, from the purple fount Of bright Lensean sire, her barren drought He quench' d, and with inspiring nectarous juice Her drooping spirits cheer'd : — aloft she towers, Borne on stiff pennons, and of war's alarms. And trophies won, in loftiest numbers sings. 'Tis thou the hero's breast to martial acts, And resolution bold, and ardor brave, Excit'st : thou check' st inglorious lolling ease. And sluggish mimls with generous fires inflam'st. thou ! that first my quickened soul didst warm, Still with thy aid assist me, that thy praise. Thy universal sway o'er all the world. 864 PARODIES AND iiUULESQUES. In everlasting numbers, like the theme, I may record, and sing thy matchless worth. Had the Oxonian bard thy praise rehears' d, TTis Muse had yet retain'd her wonted height ; Such as of late o'er Blenheim's field she soar'd Aerial ; now in Ariconian bogs She lies inglorious, floundering, Hke her theme, Languid and faint, and on damp wing, immerg'd In acid juice, in vain attempts to rise. With what sublimest joy from noisy town, At rural seat, Lucretius retir'd : Flaccus, untainted by perplexing cares, Where the white poplar and the lofty pine Join neighboring boughs, sweet hospitable shade^ Creating, from Phoebean rays secure, A cool retreat, with few weU-chosen friends, On flowery mead recumbent, spent the hours In mirth innocuous, and alternate verse 1 With roses interwoven, poplar wreaths, Their temples bind, dress of sylvestrian gods ! Choicest nectarean juice crown'd largest bowls. And overlook'd the brim, alluring sight, Of fi-agrant scent, attractive, taste divine ! Whether from Formian grape depressed, Falern, Or Setin, Massic, Gauran, or Sabine, Lesbian, or Coecuban, the cheering bowl Mov'd briskly round, and spurr'd their heighten'd wit To sing Mecsena's praise, their patron kind. But we not as our pristine sires repair To umbrageous grot or vale ; but when the sun Faintly from western skies his rays obhque Darts sloping, an(i to Thetis' wat'ry lap Hastens in prone cai-eer, with friends select Swiftly we hie to Devil,* young or old, Jocund and boon ; where at the entrance stands A stripling, who with scrapes and humQ cringe Greets us in winning speech, and accent bland: With lightest bound, and safe unerring step. He skips before, and nimbly climbs the stairs. Melampus thus, panting with lolling tongue, And wagging tail, gambols and frisks before * The Devil Tavern, Temple Bar. PABODIES AND BCTRTiESQUES. SfiS His sequent lord, from pensive walk return'd, Whether in shady wood or pasture green, And waits his coming at the well-known gate. Nigh to the stairs' ascent, in regal port, Sits a majestic dame, whose looks denounce Command and sovereignty : with haughty air, And studied mien, in semicircular throne Enclos'd, she deals around her dread commands ; Behind her (dazzUng sight I) in order rang'd, Pile above pile, crystalline vessels shine : Attendant slaves with eager strides advance, And, after homage paid, bawl out aloud Words unintelhgible, noise confus'd : She knows the jargon sounds, and straight desciibes, In characters mysterious, words obscure : More legible are algebraic signs, Or mystic figures by magicians drawn, When they invoke the infernal spirit's aid. Drive hence the rude and barbarous dissonance Of savage Thracians and Croatian boors ; The loud Centaurian broils Avith Lapithse Sound harsh, and grating to Lensean god ; Chase brutal feuds of Belgian skippers hence (Amid their cups whose innate temper 's shown), In clumsy fist -naelding scymetrian knife. Who slash each other's eyes, and blubber'd face. Profaning Bacchanahan solemn rites : Music's harmonious numbers better suit His festivals, from instruments or voice. Or Gasperani's hand the trembling string Should touch ; or from the dulcet Tuscan dames, Or warbling Toft's far more melodious tongue, Sweet symphonies should flow : the Delian god For airy Bacchus is associate meet. The stair's ascent now gain'd, our guide unbars The door of spacious room, and creaking chairs (To ear offensive) round the table sets. We sit ; vi^hen thus his florid speech begins : '' Name, sirs ! the wine that most invites your taste ; Champaign, or Burgundy, or Florence pure. Or Hock antique, or Lisbon new or old, Bourdeaux, or neat French white, or Alicant." 36(i PARODIES AND BURLESQUES, For Bourdeaux we with voice unanimous Declare, (sucli sympathy's in boon compeersj. He quits the room alert, but soon returns ; One hand capacious glistering vessels bears Resplendent, the other, with a grasp secure, A bottle (mighty charge !) upstaid, full fraught With goodly wine. He, with extended hand Rais'd high, pours forth the sanguine frothy juice, O'erspread with bubbles, dissipated soon : "We straight to arms repair, experienc'd chiefs : Now glasses clash with glasses (charming sound !) And glorious Anna's health, the first, the best. Crowns the full glass ; at her inspiring name The sprightly wine results, and seems to smile : With hearty zeal and wish unanimous, Her health we drink, and in her health our own. A pause ensues : and now with gi-ateful chat We improve the interval, and joyous mirth Engages our rais'd souls ; pat repartee. Or witty joke, our airy senses moves To pleasant laughter ; straight the echoing room With universal peals and shouts resounds. The royal Dane, blest consort of the Queen, Next crowns the ruby'd nectar, all whose bliss In Anna's plac'd : with sympathetic flame, And mutual endearments, aU her joys. Like to the kind turtle's pure untainted love, Center in him, who shares the grateful hearts Of loyal subjects, with his sovereign queen ; For by his prudent care united shores Were sav'd from hostile fleets' invasion dire. The hero Marlborough next, whose vast exploits Fame's clarion sounds ; fi-esh laurels, triumphs aew We wish, like those he won at Hockstet's field. Next Devonshire illustrious, who from race Of noblest patriots sprang, whose worthy soul Is with each fair and virtuous gift adorn' d, That shone in b'.s most worthy ancestors ; For then distinct in separate breasts were seen Virtues distinct but aU in him unite. Prudent Grodolphin, of the nation's weal Frugal, but fi-ee and generous of his own. PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. 357 Next crowns the bowl ; with faithful Sunderland, And Halifax, the Muses' darling son, 3 u whom conspicuous, with full luster, shine The I jrest judgment and the brightest wit, Himseli' Mecsenas and a Flaccus too ; And all the worthies of the British realm, In order rang'd succeed ; such healths as tinge The dulcet wine with a more charming gust. Now each his mistress toasts, by whose bright eye He 's fired ; Cosmeha fair, or Dulcibell', Or Sylvia, comely black, with jetty eyes Piercing, or airy Celia, sprightly maid! — Insensibly thus flow unnumber'd hours ; Glass succeeds glass, till the Dircean god Shines in our eyes, and with his fulgent rays Enlightens our glad looks with lovely dye ; All blithe and jolly, that like Arthur's knights Of Rotund Table, fam'd in old records. Now most we seem'd — such is the power of Wine I Thus we the winged hours in harmless mirth And joys unsullied pass, till humid Night Has half her race perform'd ; now all abroad Is hush'd and silent, nor the rumbhng noise Of coach, or cart, or smoky Unk-boy's call, Is heard — but universal silence reigns ; Wlien we in merry plight, aiiy and gay, Surpris'd to find the hours so swiftly fly, With hasty knock, or twang of pendant cord, Alarm the drowsy youth from slumbering nod : Startled he flies, and stumbles o'er the stairs Erroneous, and with busy knuckles pUes His yet clung eyeUds, and with staggering reel Enters confus'd, and muttering asks our wills ; When we with hberal hand the score discharge, And homeward each his course with steady step UneiTing steers, of cares and coin bereft. fl68 PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. ODE ON SCIENCE. 0, HEAVENLY bom I in deepest dells If fairer science ever dwells Beneath the mossy cave ; Indulge the verdure of the woods, "With azure beauty gild the floods, And flowery carpets lave. For, Melancholy ever reigns Delighted in the sylvan scenes With scientific hght While Dian, huntress of the vales, Seeks luUing sounds and fanning galea Though wrapt from mortal sight. Tet, goddess, yet the way explore With magic rites and heathen lore Obstructed and depress' d ; Till Wisdom give the sacred Nine, Untaught, not uninspired, to sliine By Eeason's power redress'd. When Solon and Lycurgus taught To morahze the human thought Of mad opinion's maze, To erring zeal they gave new laws^ Thy charms, Liberty, the cause, That blends congenial rays. Bid bright Astrtea gild the morn, Or bid a hundred suns be born, To hecatomb the year ; Without thy aid, in vain the poles, In vain the zodiac system rolls, In vain the lunar sphere. Come, fairest princess of the throng, Bring sweet philosophy along, In metaphysic dreams : DEAN SWIFT. PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. 359 While raptured bards no more behold A vernal age of purer gold, In Heliconian streams. Drive thraldom with malignant hand, To curse some other destined land. By Folly led astray : leme bear on azure winsr : 7 Energic let her soar, and sing Thy universal sway. So when Amphion bade the lyre To more majestic sound aspire, Behold the mad'ning throng, In wonder and obUvion drowned, To sculpture turned by magic sound, And petrifying song. A LOVE SONG, IN THE MODERN TASTE. DEAN SWirf, Fluttering spread thy purple pinions Gentle Cupid, o'er my heart : I a slave in thy dominions ; Nature must give way to art. Mud Arcadians, ever blooming, Nightly nodding o'er your flocks, See my weary days consuming All beneath yon flowery rocks. Thus the Cyprian goddess weeping Mourned Adonis, darling youth ; Him the boar, in silence creeping, Gored with unrelenting tooth. Cynthia, tune harmonious numbers; Fair Discretion, string the lyre : Soothe my ever- waking slumbers : Bright Apollo, lend thy choir. 800 PARODIES AND HUKLESQUE8. Gloomy Pluto, king of terrors, Arm'd in adamantine chains, Lead me to the crystal mirrors, Watering soft Elysian plains. Mournful cypress, verdant willow, Gilding my Aurelia's brows, Morpheus, hovering o'er my pillow, Hear me pay my dying vows. Melancholy smooth Meander, Swiftly purling in a round, On thy margin lovers wander. With thy flowery chaplets crown'd. Thu? when Philomela drooping, Softly seeks her silent mate, See the bird of Juno stooping ; Melody resigns to fate. HAUCIS AND rniLEMON. PN THE EVER-LAMENTED LOSS OF THE TWO YEW-TREES IN THE PARISH OF CHILTHORNE, SOMERSET. IMITATED FROM THE EIGniH BOOK OF OVID. DEAN SWIFT In ancient time, as story tells, The saints would often leave their cells, And stroll about, but hide their quality, To try good people's hospitality. It happen'd on a winter night, As authors of the legend write. Two brother hermits, saints by trade, Taking their tour in masquerade. Disguised in tatter'd habits, went To a small village down in Kent; Where, in the strollers' canting strain, They begg'd from door to door in vain, Tried every tone might pity win ; But not a soul would let them in. PARODIES AND BUELESQUES. 361 Our wandenng saints, in woeful state, Treated at this ungodly rate, Having through all the village past, To a small cottage came at last Where dwelt a good old honest ye'man, Call'd in the neighborhood Philemon ; Who kindly did these saints invite In his poor hut to pass the night; And then the hospitable sire Bid Goody Baucis mend the fire ; While he from out the chimney took A flitch of bacon off the hook. And freely from the fattest side Cut out large slices to be fried ; Then stepp'd aside to fetch them drink, Fill'd a large jug up to the brink, An d saw it fairly twice go round ; Yet (what was wonderful) they found 'T was still replenish' d to the top, As if they ne'er had touch' d a drop. The good old couple were amazed, And often on each other gazed ; For both were frighten'd to the heart, And just began to cry, " What ar't 1" Then softly turn'd aside, to view Whether the lights were burning blue. The gentle pilgrims, soon aware on't. Told them their calling and their errand : " Good folks, you need not be afraid. We are but saints," the hermits said ; " No hurt shall come to you or yours : But for that pack of churlish boors. Not fit to live on Chiistian ground. They and their houses bhall be drown' d; Wliile you shall see your cottage rise, And grow a church before your eyes." They scarce had spoke, when fair and soft The roof began to mount aloft ; Aloft rose every beam and rafter ; The heavy wall climb'd slowly after. The chimney widen'd, and grew higher, Became a steeple with a spire. 16 .162 PARODIES AND BURLESCJUES. The kettle to the top was hoist, And there stood fasten'd to a joist, But with the upside down, to show Its inchnation for below : In vain ; for a superior force Applied at bottom stops its course: Doom'd ever in suspense to dwell, 'Tis now no kettle, but a belL A wooden jack, which had almost Lost by disuse the art to roast, A sudden alteration feels, Increased by new intestine wheels ; And, what exalts the wonder more, The number made the motion slower. The flier, though it had leaden feet, Turn'dTSund so quick you scarce could see'tj' But, slacken'd by some secret power. Now hardly moves an inch an hour. The jack and chimney, near allied, Had never left each other's side ; The chimney to a steeple grown, The jack would not be left alone ; But, up against the steeple rear'd. Became a clock, and still adhered ; And still its love to household cares. By a shrill voice at noon, declares. Warning the cook-maid not to burn That roast meat, which it can not turn. The groaning-chair began to crawl, Like a huge snail, along the wall ; There stuck aloft in public view. And with small change, a pulpit grew. The porringers, that in a row Hung high, and made a glittering show, To a less noble substance changed, Were now but leathern buckets ranged The ballads, pasted on the wall, Of Joan of France, and English MoU Fair Rosamond, and Eobin Hood, The httle Cliildren in the Wood, Now seem'd to look abundance better, Improved in picture, size, and letter : PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. 363 And, high in order placed, describe The heraldry of every tribe. A bedstead of the antique mode, Compact of timber many a load, Such as our ancestors did use, "Was metamorphosed into pews ; Which still their ancient nature keep By lodging folks disposed to sleep. The. cottage, by such feats as these, G-rown to a church by just degrees, The hermits then desired their host To ask for what he fancied most Philemon, having paused a whUe, Return'd them thanks in homely style ; Then said, " My house is grown so fine, Methinks, I still would call it mine, T 'm old, and fain would Uve at ease ; Make me the parson if you please." He spoke, and presently he feels His grazier's coat fall down his heels : He sees, yet hardly can believe, About each arm a pudding sleeve; His waistcoat to a cassock grew, And both assumed a sable hue; But, being old, continued just As threadbare, and as full of dust. His talk was now of tithes and dues : He smoked his pipe, and read the news ; Knew how to preach old sermons next, Vamp'd in the preface and the text ; At christenings well could act his part, And had the service all by heart ; Wish'd women might have clnldren fast. And thought whose sow had farrow'd last; Against dissenters would repine. And stood up firm for " right divine ;" Found his head fill'd with many a system ; But classic authors — he ne'er miss'd 'em. Thus having furbish' d up a parson, Dame Baucis next they play'd their farce on. Instead of homespun coifs, were seen Good pinners edged with colberteen ; 364 PARODIES AND BUKLESQUES. Her petticoat transform'd apace, Became black satin, flounced with lace. " Plain Goody" would no longer down, 'T was " Madam," in her grogram gown. . Pliilemon was in great surprise. And hardly could believe his eyes. Amazed to see her look so prim. And she admired as much at him. Thus happy in their change of life, Were several years this man and wife : When on a day, which proved their last, Discoursing o'er old stories past, They went by chance, amid their talk, To the church-yard to take a walk ; When Baucis hastily ciied out, " My dear, I see your forehead sprout!" — " Sprout," quoth the man ; " what's this you tell us? I hope you don't believe me jealous ! But yet, methinks I feel it true. And really yours is budding too — Nay — now I can not stir my foot ; It feels as if 't were taking root." Description would but tire my Muse, In short, they both were turn'd to yews. Old G-oodman Dobson of the green Remembers he the trees has seen ; He '11 talk of them from noon till night, And goes with folks to show the sight; On Sundays, after evening prayer. He gathers all the parish there ; Points out the place of either yew, Here Baucis, there Philemon, grew : Till once a parson of our town. To mend his barn, cut Baucis down ; At which, 'tis hard to be beUeved How much the other tree was grieved. Grew scrubbed, died a-top, was stunted, So the next parson stubb'd and burnt it. PAKODIES AN1> BUELESQUES. 3(55 A. DESCRIPTION OF A CITY SHOWER. IN IMITATION OF VIRGIl's GEORGICS. LEAN SWIFT. Careful observers may foretell the hour, (By sure prognostics), when to dread a shower. While rain depends, the pensive cat gives o'er Her frolics, and pursues her tail no more. Returning home at night, you'U find the sink Strike your offended sense with double stmk. If you be wise, then, go not far to chne: You'll spend in coach-hire more than save in wine A coming shower your shooting corns presage, Old aches wiU throb, your hoUow tooth wiU rage; Sauntering in coffee-house is Dulman seen ; He damns the climate, and complains of spleen. Meanwliile the South, rising with dabbled wings, A sable cloud athwart the welkin flings, That swill'd more Uquor than it could contain, And, hke a drunkard, gives it up again. Brisk Susan whips her hnen from the rope. While the first drizzhng shower is borne aslope ; Such is that sprinkling which some careless quean Flirts on you fi'om her mop, but not so clean : You fly, invoke the gods ; then, turning, stop To rail ; she singing, still whirls on her mop. Not yet the dust had shunn'd the unequal strife, But, aided by the wind, fought still for hfe, And wafted with its foe by violent gust, 'T was doubtful which was rain, and which was d ost Ah 1 where must needy poet seek for aid, When dust and rain at once his coat invade ? Sole coat ! where dust, cemented by the rain, Erects the nap, and leaves a cloudy stain! Now in contiguous drops the flood comes down, Threatening with deluge tliis devoted town. To shops in crowds the daggled females fly, Pretend to cheapen goods, but nothing buy. The Templar spruce, while every spout 's abroach. Stays till 'tis fair, yet seems to call a coacli. 36G PAEODIES AND BURLESQUES. The tuck'd up sempstress walks with hasty strides, While streams run down her oil'd umbrella's sides. Here various kinds, by various fortunes led, Commence acquaintance underneath a shed. Triumphant Tories, and desponding Whigs, Forget their feuds, and join to save their wigs. Box'd in a chair the beau impatient sits, While spouts run clattering o'er the roof by fits, And ever and anon with frightful din The leather sounds ; he trembles from within. So when Troy chairmen bore the wooden steed, Pregnant with Greeks impatient to be freed, (Those bully Greeks, who, as the moderns do. Instead of paying chairmen, ran them through), Laocoon struck the outside with his spear, And each imprison'd hero quaked for fear. Now from all parts the swelling kennels flow. And bear their trophies with them as they go : Kith of all hues and odor, seem to teU What street they sail'd from by their sight and smeU. They, as each torrent drives with rapid force. From Smithfield to St. Pulchre's shape their course, And in huge confluence join'd at Snowhill ridge, Fall from the conduit prone to Holborne bridge. Sweeping from butchers' stalls, dung, guts, and blood ; Drown' d puppies^ stmking sprats, all drench' d in mud, Dead cats, and turnip-tops, come tumbling down the flood PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. 367 THE PROGRESS OF CURIOSITY; OR A ROYAL VISIT TO WHITBREAD's BREWERY. PETER PmDAK. Sic transit gloria tnundi I — Old Sun D.j.ls. From House of Buckingham, in grand parade, To Wliitbread's Brewhouse, moved the cavalcade. The Aegtiment. — Peter's loyalty. — He suspecteth Mr. Warton* of joking. — Complimenteth the poet Laureate. — Peter differeth in opinion from Mr. Warton.— Taketh up the cudgels for King Edward, King Harry V., and Queeu Bess. — Feats on Blackheath and Wimbledon performed by our most gracious sovereign. — King Charles the Second half damned by Peter, yet praised for keeping company with gentlemen. — Peter praiseth himself. — Peter reproved by Mr. Warton. — Desireth Mr. Warton's prayers. — A fine simile. — Peter still suspecteth the Laureate of ironical dealings — Peter expostulateth with Mr. Warton. — Mr. Warton repli- eth. — Peter administereth bold advice. — Wittily calleth death and physicians poachers Praiseth the king for parental tenderness. — Peter maketh a natural simile. — Peter furthermore telleth Thomas Warton what to say. — Peter giveth a beautiful example of ode-writing. The Contents of tub Ode. — His Majesty' st love for the arts and sciences, even in quadrupeds. — His resolution to know the history of brewing beer. — Billy Kamus sent ambassador to Chiswell street. — Interview between Messrs. Ramus and Whilbread. — Mr. Whitbread's bow, and compliments to Majesty. — Mr. Ra- mus" s return from his embassy. — Mr. Wliitbread's terrors described to Majesty by Mr. Ramus. — The King's pleasure thereat. — Description of people of worship. — Account of the Whitbread preparation. — The royal cavalcade to Chiswell-street. — The arrival at the brewhouse. — G-reat joy of Mr. Whitbread. — His Majesty's nod, the Queen's dip, and a number of questions. — A West India simile. — Tlie marvelings of the draymen described. — His Majesty peepeth into a pump. — Beautifully compared to a magpie peeping into a marrow-bone. — The ininicte cu riosity of the King. — Mr. Whitbread endeavoreth to surprise Majesty. — His Maj- esty puzzleth Mr. Whitbread. — Mr. Whitbread's horse expresseth wonder. — Also Mr. Whitbread's dog. — His Majesty maketh laudable iiiquiry about Porter. — Again puzzleth Mr. Whilbread. — King noteth notable things. — Profound ques- tions proposed by Majesty. — As profoundly answered by Mr. Whitbread. — Maj- esty in a mistake. — Corrected by the brewer. — A nose simile. — Majesty's admira- tion of the bell. — Good manners of the bell. — Fine appearance of Mr. Wliitbread's pigs. — Majesty proposeth questions, but benevolently waitetli not for answers.— Peter telleth the duty of Kings. — Discovereth one of his shrewd maxims. — Sub. lime sympathy of a water-spout and a king. — The great use of asking questions.— The habitation of truth. — The collation. — The wonders performed by the Koyal Visitors. — Majesty proposeth to take leave. — Offereth knighthood to Whit- bread. — Mr. Whitbread's objections. — The king ruimeth a rig on his host. — Mr Whitbread thanketh Majesty. — Miss Whitbread curtsieth. — The queen dippeth.— The Cavalcade departeth. Peter triumpheth. — Admonisheth the Laureate. — Peter croweth over the l^an reate. — Discovereth deep knowledge of kings, and surgeons, and men who havi lost their legs. — Peter reasoneth. — Vaunteth.— Even iusulteth the Laureate. — Pe * The Poet Laureate. t George IIL 368 PARODIES AND BUKLESQUKS. ler proclaimeth his peaceable disposition. — Praiseth Majesty, and concludetli with \ prayer for curious kings. Tom, soon as e'er thou strik'st thy golden lyre, Thy brother Peter's muse is all on fire, To sing of kings and queens, and such rare folk Yet, 'midst thy heap of compliments so fine. Say, may we venture to believe a line ? You Oxford wits most dearly love a joke. Son of the Nine, thou writest well on naught ; Thy thundering stanza, and its pompous thought, I tliink, must put a dog into a laugh : Edward and Harry were much braver men Than this new-christened hero of thy pea. Yes, laurelled Odeman, braver far by half; Though on Blackheath and Wimbledon's wide plain, George keeps his hat off in a shower of rain ; Sees swords and bayonets without a dread, Nor at a volley winks, nor ducks his head : Although at grand reviews he seems so blest, And leaves at six o'clock his downy nest. Dead to the charms of blanket, wife, and bolster ; Unlike his officers, who, fond of cramming, And at i-eviews afraid of thirst and famine, With bread and cheese and brandy fill their holsters. Sure, Tom, we should do justice to Queen Bess : His present majesty, whom Heaven long bless With wisdom, wit, and art of choicest quality, Will never get, I fear, so fine a niche As that old queen, though often called old b — eh, In fame's colossal house of immortality. As for John Dryden's Charles — that king Indeed was never any mighty thing ; • He merited few honors from the pen : And yet he was a devilish hearty fellow, Enjoyed his beef, and bottle, and got mellow, And mind — kept company with gentlemen : PARODIES A.ND BUllLESQUES. 1369 Foi', like some kings, in hobby grooms, Knights of the manger, curry-combs, and brooms, Lost to all glory, Charles did not deligiit — Nor joked by day with pages, servant-maids. Large, red-poUed, blowzy, hard two-handed jades: Indeed I know not what Charles did by night. Thomas, I am of candor a great lover ; In short, I 'm candor's self aU over ; Sweet as a candied cake from top to toe ; Make it a rule that Virtue shall be pr'aised, And humble Merit from the ground be raised: What thinkest thou of Peter now ? Thou cryest " Oh ! how false f behold thy king, Of whom thou scarcely say'st a handsome thing ; That king has virtues that should make thee stare." Is it so ? — Then the sin 's in me — 'Tis my vile optics that can't see ; Then pray for them when next thou sayest a prayer. But, p'rhaps aloft on his imperial throne, So distant, ye gods ! from every one, The royal virtues are like many a star. From this our pigmy system rather far : Whose light, though flying ever since creation, Has not yet pitched upon our nation.^* Then may the royal I'ay be soon explored — And Thomas, if thou 'It swear thou art not humming, I '11 take my spying-glass and bring thee word The instant I behold it coming. But, Thomas Warton, vsdthout joking, Art thou, or art thou not, thy sovereign smoking ? How canst thou seriously declare, That George the Third With Cressy's Edward can compare, Or Harry V — 'Tis too bad, upon my word : George is a clever king, I needs must own. And cuts a jolly figure on the throne. • Sacb was the sublime opinion of the Dutch astronomer, Iluygena. 16* ilO PARODIES AND BUKLESQUKS. Now tliou exclaim'st, '' God rot it I Peter, pray What to the devil shall I sing or say ?" I '11 tell thee what to say, tuneful Tom : Sing how a monarch, when his son was dying, His gracious eyes and ears was edifying, By abbey company and kettle drum : Leaving that son to death and the physician, Between two fires — a forlorn-hope condition ; Two poachers, who make man their game, And, special marksmen ! seldom miss their aim. Say, though the monarch did not see his son, He kept aloof through fatherly affection j Determined nothing should be done. To bring on useless tears, and dismal recoUectioa For what can tears avail, and piteous sighs ? Death heeds not howls nor dripping eyes ; And what are sighs and tears but wind and water, That show the leakiness of feeble nature ? Tom, with my simile thou wilt not quarrel ; Like air and any sort of drink. Whizzing and oozing through each chink, That proves the weakness of the barrel. Say — for the prince, when wet was every eye, And thousands poured to heaven the pitying sigh Devout ; Say how a King, unable to dissemble. Ordered Dame Siddons to his house, and Kemble, To spout : Gave them ice creams and wines, so dear 1 Denied till then a thimble fuU of beer ; For which they 've thanked the author of tliis meter Videlicet, the moral mender, Peter Who, in his Ode on Ode, did dare exclaim. And call such royal avarice, a shame. Say — ^but I '11 teach thee how to make au ode ; Thus shall thy labors visit fame's abode, PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. 371 In company witt my immortal lay ; And look, Tom — thus I fire away — BIRTH-D A.Y ODE. Thi? day^ this very day, gave birth. Not to the brightest ijjonarch upon earth. Because there are some brighter and as big ; Who love the arts that man exalt to heaven, Greorge loves them also, when they 're given To four-legged Gentry, christened dog and pig.* Whose deeds in this our wonder-hunting nation Prove what a charming thing is education. full of the art of brewing beer, The monarch heard of Mr. Whitbread's fame ; Quoth he unto the queen " My dear, my dear, Wliitbread hath got a marvelous gi-eat name ; Charly, we must, must, must see Whitbread brew — Rich as us, Charly, richer than a Jew : Shame, shame, we have not yet his brewhouse seen 1" Thus sweetly said the king unto the queen ' Red-hot with novelty's dehghtful rage. To Mr. Whitbread forth he sent a page. To say that majesty proposed to view, With tiiirst of wondrous knowledge deep inflamed, His vats, and tubs, and hops, and hogsheads famed, And learn the noble secret how to brew. Of such undreamt-of honor proud, Most reverently the brewer bowed; So humbly (so the humble story goes,) He touched even terra firma with his nose; Then said unto the page, hight BiUy Ramus, " Happy are we that our great king should name us, As worthy unto majesty to show. How we poor ChisweU people brew." • The dancing dogs and wise pig have formed a considerable part of the rojra) unuBement 372 PARODIES AND JJUULESQUES. Away sprung Billy Eamus quick as thought, To majesty tha welcome tidings brouglit, How Whitbread, staring, stood Uke any stake, And trembled — then the civil things he said — On which the king did smile and nod his head : For monarchs like to see their subjects quake : Such horrors unto kings most pleasant are, Proclaiming reverence and humiUty : High thougiits, too, all those shaking fits declare Of kingly grandeur and great capabihty 1 People of worship, wealth, and birth. Look on the humbler sons of earth, Indeed in a most humble light, God knows I High stations are Uke Dover's towering cliffs, Where ships below appear like little skiiFs, While people walking on the strand hke crow3. Muse, sing the stir that Mr. Whitbread made ; Poor gentleman ! most terribly afraid He should not charm enough his guests divine : He gave his maids new aprons, gowns and smocks ; And lo 1 two hundred pounds were spent in frocks, To make the apprentices and draymen fine : Busy as horses in a field of clover, Dogs, cats, and chairs, and stools, were tumbled over, Amid the Wliitbread rout of preparation, To treat the lofty ruler of the nation. Now moved Idng, queen, and princesses so grand, To visit the first brewer in the land ; Who sometimes swills his beer and grinds his meat In a snug corner christened Chis well-street ; But oftener charmed with fashionable air, Amid the gaudy great of Portman-square. Lord Aylesbury, and Denbigh's Lord also, His grace the Duke of Montague likewise. With Lady Harcourt joined the raree-show, And fijced all Smithfield's marveHng eyes : T I PARODIES AND BUKLESQUES. 373 For lo ! a greater show ne'er gi'aced those quarters, Since Mary roasted, just like crabs, the martyrs. Arrived, the king broad grinned, and gave a nod To smUing Whitbread, who, had God Come witli his angels to behold liis beer, With mort respect he never could have met-- Indeed the man was in a sweat, So much the brewer did the king revere. Her majesty contrived to make a dip : Light as a feather then the king did skip. And asked a thousand questions, with a laugh, Before poor Whitbread comprehended half. Reader, my Ode should have a simile — Well, in Jamaica, on a tamarind tree, Five hundred parrots, gabbling just like Jews, ve seen — such noise the feathered imps did make, As made my very pericranium ache — Asking and telhng parrot news : Thus was the brewhouse filled with gabbling noise, Whilst draymen and the brewer's boys. Devoured the questions that the king did ask : In different parties were they staring seen. Wondering to tliink they saw a king and queen ! Behind a tub were some, and some beliind a cask. Some draymen forced themselves (a pretty luncheon) Into the mouth of many a gaping puncheon ; And through the bung-hole winked with curious eye, To view, and be assured what sort of things Were princesses, and queens, and kings, For whose most lofty station thousands sigh I And lo 1 of all the gaping puncheon clan, Few were the mouths that had not got a man I Now majesty into a pump so deep Did with an opera-glass so curious peep : Examining with care each wondrous matter That brought up water I 374 PARODIES AND BUKLESQUE8. Thus have I seen a magpie in the street, A chattering bird we often meet, A bird for curiosity well known ; With head awry, And cunning eye, Peep knowingly into a marrow-bone. And now his curious majesty did stoop To count the nails on every hoop ; And, lo ! no single thing came in his way, That, full of deep research, he did not say, "What's this! hse, hse? what's that? what's tliis? what's that?" So quick the words, too, when he deigned to speak, As if each syllable would break his neck. Thus, to the world of great whilst others crawl, Our sovereign peeps into the world of smaU ; Thus microscopic genuises explore Things that too oft provoke the public scorn, Yet swell of useful knowledges the store. By finding systems in a pepper-corn. Now boasting Whitbread serious did declare. To make the majesty of England stare. That he had butts enough, he knew. Placed side by side, to reach along to Kew : On which the king with wonder swiftly cried, " What, if they reach to Kew then, side by side. What would they do, what, what, placed end to end T To whom with knitted, calculating brow, The man of beer most solemnly did vow. Almost to Windsor that they would extend ; On which the king, with wondering mien. Repeated it unto the wondering queen : On which, quick turning round his haltered head. The brewer's horse, with face astonished neighed ; The brewer's dog too poured a note of thunder. Rattled his chain, and wagged his tail for wonder. Now did the king for other beers inquire, For Calvert's, Jordan's, Thrale's entire • PARODIES AND BUELESQUES. 376 And, after talking of these different beers, Asked Whitbread if liis porter equalled theirs ? Tliis WaS a puzzling, diagreeing question ; Grating liko ai senic on his host's digestion : A kind of question to the man of cask, That not even Solomon himself would ask. Now majesty, alive to knowledge, took A very pretty memoraadum-book, With gilded leaves of bSies' skin so white, And in it legibly began \o write — MerrtO,'u7idum. A charming place beneath the grates For roasting chestnuts or potai^ts. Mem. 'Tis hops that give a bitterness il/ beer — Hops grow in Kent, says Whit^b/vj-iu, and elsewhere. Quaere. Is there no cheaper stuff? where doth h dwell? Would not horse-aloes bitter it as ^»tll^* Mem. To try it soon on our small beer — 'T will save us several pound a year. Mem. To remember to forget to ask Old Whitbread to my house one day Mem. Not to forget to take of beer the cask, The brewer offered me, away. Now having penciled his remarks so sh'v,\7 1 Sharp as the point indeed of a new pid, His majesty his watch most sagely viewed, And then put up liis asses' skin. 370 PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. To Whitbread now deigned majesty to say, " Whitbread, are all your horses fond of hay I" " Yes, please your majesty," in humble notes, The brewer answered — " also, sir, of oats : Another thing my horses too maintains. And tliat, an't please your majesty, are grains." " Grains, grains," said majesty, " to fill their crops? Grains, grams? — that comes from hops — yes, hops, hops? hops ?" Here was the king, like hounds sometimes, at fault — " Sire," cried the humble brewer, " give me leave Your sacred majesty to undeceive ; Grains, sire, are never made from hops, but malt" '' True," said the cautious monarch, with a smile: " From malt, malt, malt — I meant malt all the while." " Yes," with the sweetest bow, rejoined the brewer, " An't please your majesty, you did, I 'm sure." " Yes," answered majesty, Avith quick reply, " I did, I did, I did I, I, I, I." Now this was wise in Whitbread — here we find A very pretty knowledge of mankind ; As monarchs never must be in the wrong, 'T was really a bright thought in Whitbread's tongue, To teU a little fib, or some such thing. To save the sinking crecUt of a king. Some brewers, in a rage of information, Proud to instruct the ruler of a nation. Had on the folly dwelt, to seem damned clever I Now, what had been the consequence ? Too plain 1 The man had cut his consequence in twain ; The king had hated the wise fool forever 1 Reader, whene'er thou dost espy a nose That bright with many a ruby glows. That nose thou mayest pronounce, nay safely swear, Ts nursed on somethin"- better than small-beer. PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. 377 Thus wb.Pii thou findest kings in brewing wise, Or natural history holding lofty station, Thou mayest conclude, with marveUng eyes, Such kings have had a goodly education. Now did the king admire the bell so fine, That daily asks the draymen all to dine: On which the bell rung out (how very proper I) To show it was a bell, and had a clapper. And now before their sovereign's curious eye, Parents and children, fine, fat, hopeful sprigs, All snuffing, squinting, grunting in their style, Appeared the brewer's tribe of handsome pigs: On which the observant man, who fills a throne, Declared the pigs were vastly like his own: On which the brewer, swallowed up in joys, Tears and astonishment in both his eyes. His soul brim full of sentiments so loyal, Exclaimed, " heavens I and can my swine Be deemed by majesty so fine ! Heavens 1 can my pigs compare, sire, with pigs royal 1 To which the king assented with a nod ; On which the brewer bowed, and said, " Good God l' Then winked significant on Miss ; Significant of wonder and of bliss ; Who, bridling in her chin divine. Crossed her fair hands, a dear old maid. And then her lowest courtesy made For such high honor done her father's swine. o Now did his majesty so gracious say To Mr. Wliitbread, in his flying way, " Whitbread, d'ye nick the excisemen now and then? Hse, Whitbread, when d'ye think to leave off trade ? Hse ? what ? Miss Whitbread's stO a maid, a maid ? What, what's the matter with the men ? " D'ye hunt I — ^hse, hunt ? No, no, you are too old — You '11 be lord mayor — lord mayor one day — Yes, yes, I 've heard so — yes, yes, so I 'ra told : Don't, don't the fine for sheriff pay ? 378 PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. I '11 prick you every year, man, I declare : Yes, Whitbread — ^yes, yes — ^you shall be lord mayor, " Whitbread, d'ye keep a coach, or job one, pray ? Job, job, that's cheapest ; yes, that's best, that's best. You put your liveries on the draymen — hse ? Hse, Whitbread ? you have feather'd well your nest. What, what's the price now, hse, of all your stock ? But, Whitbread, what's o'clock, pray, what's o'clock ?" Now Whitbread inward said, " May I be cursed If I know what to answer first;" Then searched his brains with ruminating eye : But e'er the man of malt an answer found, Quick on his heel, lo, majesty turned round, Skipped off, and baulked the pleasure of reply. Kings in inquisitiveness should be strong — From curiosity doth wisdom flow : For 'tis a maxim I 've adopted long, The more a man inquires, the more he '11 know. Reader, didst ever see a water-spout ? 'Tis possible that thou wilt answer, " No." Well then I he makes a most infernal rout ; Sucks, like an elephant, the waves below, With huge proboscis reacliing from the sky, As if he meant to drink the ocean dry : At length so full he can't hold one drop more — He bursts — down rush the waters with a roar On some poor boat, or sloop, or brig, or sliip, And almost sinks the wand'rer of the deep : Thus have I seen a monarch at reviews. Suck from the tribe of officers the news. Then bear in triumph off each wondrous matter, And souse it on the queen with such a clatter I I always would advise folks to ask questions : For, truly, questions are the keys of knowledge : Soldiers, who forage for the mind's digestions. Cut figures at the Old Bailey, and at college ; Make chancellors, chief justices, and judges, Even of the lowest green-bag drudges. PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. 3*79 The sages say, Dame Truth delights to dwell, Strange mansion ! in the bottom of a well, Questions are then the windlass and the rope That pull the grave old gentlewoman up : Damn jokes then, and unmannerly suggestions, Reflecting upon kings for asking questions. Now having well employed his royal lungs On nails, hoops, staves, pumps, barrels, and their bungs, The king and Co. sat down to a collation Of flesh and fish, and fowl of every nation. Dire was the clang of plates, of knife and fork, That merciless fell like tomahawks to work, And fearless scalped the fowl, the fish, and cattle. While Whitbread, in the rear, beheld the battle. The conquering monarch, stopping to take breath Amidst the regiments of death, Now turned to Whitbread vdth complacence round, And, merry, thus addressed the man of beer " Wliitbread, is 't true ? I hear, I hear. You 're of an ancient family — renowned — What ? what ? I 'm told that you 're a limb Of Pym, the famous fellow Pym : What Whitbread, is it true what people say ? Son of a round-head are you ? hse ? hse ? hae ? I 'm told that you send Bibles to your votes — A snuffling round-headed society — Prayer-books instead of cash to buy them coata— Bunyans, and Practices of Piety : Your Bedford votes would wish to change their fare — Rather see cash — ^yes, yes — than books of prayer. Thirtieth of January don't you feed"? Yes, yes, you eat calfs head, you eat calf s head." Now having wonders done on flesh, fowl, fish, \Vhole hosts o'er turned — and seized on all supplies ; The royal visitors expressed a wish To turn to House of Buckingham their eyes. But first the monarch, so pohte, Asked Mr. Whitbread if he 'd be a knight. I]80 PARODIES AND BUKLESQUES Unwilli ig in the list to be enrolled, Whitbread contemplated the knights of Peg, Then to his generous sovereign made' a leg, And said, " He was afraid he was too old. He thanked however his most gi'aoious king, For oflfering to make him such a thing." But, ah ! a different reason 'twas I fear! It was not age that bade the man of beer The proffered honor of the monarch shun : The tale of Margaret's knife, and royal fright. Had almost made liim damn the name of knight, A tale that farrowed such a world of fun. He mocked the prayer too by the king appointed, Even by himself the Lord's Anointed : — A foe to fast too, is he, let me tell ye ; And though a Presbyterian, can not think Heaven (quarrelling with meat and drink) Joys in the grumble of a hungry belly I Now from the table with Cesarean air Up rose the monarch with his laureled brow, When Mr. Whitbread, waiting on his chair, Expressed much thanks, much joy, and made a bow. Miss Whitbread now so quick her curtsies drops, Thick as her honored father's Kentish hops ; Which hop-like curtsies were returned by dips That never hurt the royal knees and hips ; For hips and knees of queens are sacred things, That only bend on gala days Before the best of kings, When odes of triumph sound his praise. — Now tlirough a thundering peal of kind huzzas. Proceeding some from liired* and unhired jaws, ■* When his majesty goes to a play-house, or brew-house, or parliament, the Lord Chamberlain provides some pounds' worth of mob to huzza their beloved monarch. At tlie play-house about forty wide-mouthed fellows are hired on the night of their majesties' appearance, at two shillings and sixpence per head, with the liberty of seeing the play gratis. These Slentors are placed In different parta of t>ie theater, who, immediately on the royal entry into the stage-box, set up i I .•' otI of loyalty; to whom their majesties, with sweetest smiles, acknowledgs I'ARODIES AND BURLESQUES. 381 Tilt raree-show thought proper to retire ; Whilst Whitbread and his daughter fair Surveyed all Chiswell-street with lofty air ; For, lo 1 they felt themselves some six feet higher Such, Thomas, is the way to write I Thus shouldst thou birth-day songs indite; Then stick to earth, and leave the lofty sky : No more of ti turn turn, and ti turn ti. Thus should an honest laureate write of kings — Not praise them for imaginary things ; I own I can not make my stubborn rhyme Call every king a character subUme ; For conscience will not suffer me to wander So very widely from the paths of candor. I know full well some kings are to be seen, To whom my verse so bold would give the spleen, Should that bold verse declare they wanted hram» I won't say that they never brains possessed- They may have been with such a present blessed, And therefore fancy that some still remains ; For every well-experienced surgeon knows, That men who with their legs have parted, Swear that they 've felt a pain in all their toes. And often at the twinges started ; They stared upon their oaken stumps in vain I Fancying the toes were all come back again. If men, then, who their absent toes have mourned. Can fancy those same toes at times returned ; So kings, in matters of intelligences, May fancy they have stumbled on their senses. Yes, Tom — mine is the way of writing ode — Why liflest thou thy pious eyes to God ! the obligation by a genteel bow, and an elegant curtesy. This congratuftitory noise of the Stentors is looked on by many, particularly country ladies and gen- tlemen, as an infallible thermometer, that ascertains the warmth of the national tegard —P. P. 38-2 PARODIES AISD BURLESQUES. Strange disappointment in thy looks I read ; And now I hear thee in proud triumph cry, " Is this an action, Peter, this a deed To raise a monarch to the sky ? Tubs, porter, pumps, vats, all the Wliitbread throng, Rare things to figure in the Muse's song !" Thomas, I here protest, I want no quarrels On kings and brewers, porter, pumps, and barrels — Far from the dove-like Peter be such strife, But this I tell thee, Thomas, for a fact — Thy Csesar never did an act More wise, more glorious in his Ufe. Now God preserve all wonder-hunting kings, Whether at Windsor, Buckingham, or Kew-house : And may they never do more foolish tilings Than visiting Sam Whitbread and his brewhouse. THE AUTHOR AND THE STATESMAN [addressed by fielding to sir ROBERT WALPOLE.] While at the helm of state you ride, Our nation's envy, and its pride ; While foreign courts with wonder gaze, And curse those councils which they praise ; Would you not wonder, sir, to view Your bard a greater man than you ? Which that he is you can not doubt, When you have read the sequel out. You know, great sir, that ancient fellows, Philosophers, and such folks, tell us. No great analogy between Grreatness and happiness is seen. If then, as it mio;ht follow straight. Wretched to be, is to be great; Forbid it, gotls, that you should try What 'tis to be so great as 1 1 PAEODIE« AXD BUKLESQUES, 383 The family that dines the latest, Is in our street esteem'd the greatest: But latest hcurs must surely fall 'Fore him who never dines at all. Your taste in architect, /ou know, Hath been admired by friend and foe : But can your earthly domes compare With all my castles — in the air ? We 're often taught it doth behoove us To think those greater who 're above us ; Another instance of my glory, Who live above you, twice two story ; And from my garret can look down On the whole street of Arlington. Greatness by poets still is painted With many followers acquainted : Tliis too doth in my favor speaik ; Your levee is but twice a week ; From mine I can exclude but one day, My door is quiet on a Sunday. Nor in the manner of attendance. Doth your great bard claim less ascendance. Familiar you to admiration May be approached by all the nation ; Wliile I, like the Mogul in Inch, Am never seen but at my window. If with my greatness you 're offended, The fault is easily amended ; For I '11 come down, with wondrous ease, Into whatever pZace you please. I 'm not ambitious ; little matters Will serve us great, but humble creatures. "! Suppose a secretary o' this isle, Just to be doing with a while ; Admiral, gen'ral, judge, or bishop : Or I can foreign treaties cUsh up. If tlie good genius of the nation Should call me to negotiation, 384 PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. Tuscan and French are in my head, Latin I write, and Q-reek — I read. If you should ask, what pleases best ? To get the most, and do the least "What fittest for ? — You know, I' m sure ; I 'm fittest for — a sine-cure. THE FRIEND OF HUMANITY AND THE KNIFE GRINDER.* ANTI-JACOBIN. FRIEND OF HUMANITY.t " Needy Knife-grinder ! whither are you going ? Rough is the road, your wheel is out of order — Bleak blows the blast ; your hat has got a hole in 't. So have your breeches ! • Borne stanzas of the original poem, by Southey, are here subjoined : THE WIDOW. SAPPHICS. Cold was the night wind ; drifting fast the snows fell ; Wide were the downs, and shelterless and naked ; When a poor wand'rer struggled on her journey. Weary and way-sore. Drear were the downs, more dreary her reflections ; Cold was the night wind, colder was her bosom : She had no home, the world was all before her She had no shelter. Fast o'er the heath a chariot rattled by her : " Pity me I" feebly cried the poor night wanderer, "Pity me, strangers 1 lest with cold and hunger Here I should perish." t The " Friend of Humanity" was intended for Me. Tiebnet, M. P. for South- wark, who in early times was among the more forward of the Refc rmers. " He was," says Lord Brougham, "an assiduous member of the Society ^f Friends of the Peo2}le, and drew up the much and justly celebrated Petition in which that useful body laid before the House of Commons all the more striking particulars of its defective title to the office of representing the people, which that House then, as now, but with far less reason, assumed. PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. 385 " Weary Knife-grinder ! little think the proud ones, "Who in then- coaches roll along the turnpike- road, what hard work 'tis crying all day ' Knives and " ' Scissors to grind 1' TeU me, Knife-grinder, how came you to grind knives ? Did some rich man tyrannically use you ? Was it the squire ? or parson of the parish ? Or the attorney? ^ Was it the squire, for killing of his game ? or jvetous parson, for his tithes distraining ? ^^ roguish lawyer, made you lose your Uttle All in a lawsuit ? " (Have you not read the Eights of Man, by Tom Paine 7> Drops of compassion tremble on my eyelids. Ready to fall, as soon as you have told your Pitiful story." KNIFE-GRINDER. " Story ! God bless you ! I have none to tell, sir, Only last night a-drinking at the Chequers, This poor old hat and breeches, as you see, were Torn in a scuffle. "^ Constables came up, for to take me into Custody ; they took me before the justice ; ^r^stice Oldmixon put me in the parish- Stocks for a vagrant. o should be glad to drink your Honor's health in pot of beer, if you will give me sixpence ; at for my part, I never love to meddle With politics, sir. ' FRIEND OF HUM.VNITY. " 1 give thee sixpence ! I will see thee damned hrst — Wretch ! whom no sense of wrongs can rouse to vengeanc«- Sordid, unfeehng, reprobate, degraded. Spiritless outcast I" [Kicks the Knife-grinder, overturns his wheel, and exit in a transport of Repub- lican enthusiasm and universal philanthropy.J 386 PAKODIES AlvD liUKLESQUES, INSCRIPTION FOB THK BOOK OF THE CELL IN NEWGATE, WHERE MRS. BROWN- RIGG, THK 'PRENTICE-CIDE WAS CONFINED PREVIOUS TO HER EXECUTION.* FROM THE ANTI-JACOBIN. 1797 For one long term, or e'er her trial came, Here Brownrigg linger'd. Often have these cells Echoed her blasphemies, as with shrill voice She screamed for fresh Geneva. Not to her Did the blithe fields of Tothill, or thy street, St Griles, its fair varieties expand ; Till at the last, in slow-drawn cart she went To execution. Dost thou ask her crime ? She whipp'd two female 'prentices to death, And hid them in the coal-hole. For her mind Shaped strictest plans of discipline. Sage schemes I Such as Lycurgus taught, when at the shrine Of the Orthyan goddess he bade flog The little Spartans ; such as erst chastised Our Milton, when at college. For this act Did Brownrigg swing. Harsh laws! But time shall come When France shall reign, and laws be all repeal'd I •INSCRIPTION BY SOUTHEY irOB THE APABTMENT IN CHEPSTOW CASTLE, WHEBE HENIIY MABTEN, TUE BEQIUID^ WAS IMPEISONED TUIKTY YEAE8. Foe tliirty years, secluded from mankind, Here Maeten lingered. Often liave these walls Echoed his footsteps, as with even tread He paced around his prison : not to him Did Nature's fair varieties exist ; He never saw the sun's delightful beams. Save wlien through yon high bars he pour'd a sad And broken splendor. Dost thou ask his crime? He had eebell'd against the King, and sat In judgment on him ; for his ardent mind Shaped goodliest plans of happiness on earth. And peace and liberty. Wild dreams ! but such As Plato loved ; such as with lioly zeal Our Milton worship' d. Bless' d hopes! awhile From man withheld, even to the latter days When Christ shall come, and all tilings be fulfill'd . PAKODIES AND BURLESQUES. 38'! SONG* SUNG liV ROGERO IN THE BURLESQUE PLAY OF " THE ROVER. FROM TILE ANTI-JACOBIN, 1798. CANNING. I. Whene'er with haggard eyes I view This dungeon that I 'm rotting in, I tliink of those companions true Who studied witli me at the U — niversity of Gottingen — — niversity of Gottingen. [Weeps, and pulls out a blue kerchief, with which he wipes his eyes ; gazing tenderly at it, he proceeds — IL Sweet kercliief, check'd with heavenly blue, Wliich once my love sat knotting in 1 — Alas ! Matilda then was true 1 At least I thought so at the U — — niversity of Gottingen — — niversity of Gottingen. [At the repetition of this line Rogero clanks his chains in cadence. m. Bai'bs ! Barbs ! alas ! how swift you flew Her neat post-wagon trotting in 1 Ye bore Matilda from my view ; Forlorn I languish' d at the U — — niversity of Gottingen — ' — university of Gottingen. IV. This faded form ! tliis palUd hue ! This blood my veins is clotting in, • There is a curious circumstance connected with the composition of this song, the first five stanzas of which were written by Mr. Canning. Having been acci- dentally seen, previous to its publication, by Mr. Pitt, who was cognizant of tlie proceodiugs of tlie " Anti-Jacobiu" writers, he was so amused with it. Hint ho loiili Lip a pen and composed tho last stanza oa tlie spot. 388 PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. My years are many — they were few When fii'st I entered at the U — •• — niversity of Gottingen — — nivereity of Gottingen. There first for thee my passion grew, Sweet I sweet Matilda Pottingen ! Thou wast the daughter of my tu — — tor, law professor at the U — — niversity at Gottingen — — niversity of Gottingen. VI. Sun, moon and thou, vain world, adieu, That kings and priests are plotting in ; Here doom'd to starve on water gru — — el, never shall I see the U — — niversity of Gottingen — — niversity of Gottingen. [Daring the last stanza Rogero dashes his head repeatedly against the walls of hl« prison ; and, finally, so hard as to produce a visible contusion ; he then throws himself on the floor in an agony. The curtain drops ; the music still continuing to play till it is wholly fallen. THE AMATORY SONNETS OF ABEL SHUFFLE- BOTTOM. ROBERT 80UTHEY. L DELIA AT PLAY. She held a Cup and Ball of ivory white, Less white the ivory than her snowy hand ! Enrapt, I watched her from my secret stand. As now, intent, in innocent delight, Her taper fingers twh'led the giddy ball, Now tost it, following still with eagle sight^ Now on the pointed end infixed its fall. Marking her sport I mused, and musing sighed. PARODIES AND BURLESQUKS. 389 Methought the ball she played with was my heart ; (Alas ! that sport like that should be her pride !) And the ke&)i point which steadfast still she eyed ^ Wherewith to pierce it, that was Cupid's dart ; Shall I not then the cruel Fair condemn Who on that dart impales my bosom's gem ? II. IHB POET PROVES THE EXISTPVCE OF A SOUL FROM HIS LOVE FOR :.ELIA. Some have denied a soul ! They never loved. Far from my Deha now by fate removed, At home, abroad, I view her everywhere : Her ONLY in the flood of noon I see, My Goddess- 3£aid, my omnipresent fair. For Love annihilates the world to me I And when the weary Sol around his bed Closes the sable curtains of the night, Sun of my slumbers, on my dazzled sight She sliines confest. When every sound is dead. The SPIRIT OF HER VOICE comes then to roU The sm'ge of music o'er my wavy brain. Far, far from her my Body drags its chain, But sure with Deha / exist a soul ! m. the poet expresses his feelings respecting a portrait im Delia's parlor. I would I were that portly gentleman With gold-laced hat and golden-headed cane, Who hangs in Delia's parlor I For whene 'er From book or needlework her looks arise, On him converge the sun-beams of her eyes, And he unblamed may gaze upon my fair, And oft my fair his, favored form surveys. HAPPY PICTURE 1 Still on HER to gaze; 1 envy him 1 and jealous fear alarms. Lest the strong glance of those divinest charms Warm him to life, as in the ancient days, When marble melted in Pygmalion's arms. I would I were that portly gentleman, With gold-laced hat and golden-headed cane 1 390 PAEODIES AND BURLESQUES. TIIE LOVE ELEGIES OF ABEL SHUFFLEBOTTOM. ROBERT SOUTHEY. I. THE POET RELATES HOW HE OBTAINED DELIA's POCKET-HANDKEB- CHIEF. 'Tis mine I what accents can my joy declare ? Blest be the pressure of the tlironging rout I Blest be the hand so hasty of my fair, That left the tempting corner hanging out ! I envy not the joy the pilgrim feels, After long travel to some distant shrine, When at the rehc of liis saint he kneels. For Delia's pocket-handkerchief is mine. When first with filching fingers I drew near, Keen hopes shot tremulous through every vem ; And when the finished deed removed my fear, Scarce could my bounding heart its joy contain. What though the eighth commandment rose to mind, It only served a moment's qualm to move ; For thefts like this it could not be designed — The eighth commandment was not made for love 1 Here, when she took the maccaroons from me, • She Aviped her mouth to clear the crumbs so sweet I Dear napkin 1 yes, she wiped her lips on thee ! Lips sweeter than tlie maccaroons she eat. And when she took that pinch of Moccabaw, That made my love so delicately sneeze, Thee to her Roman nose applied I saw. And thou art doubly dear for things Uke these. No washerwoman's filthy hand shall e'er, Sweet pocket-handkerchief I thy worth profane ; For thou hast touched the rubies of my fair, And I will kiss thee o'er and o'er again. TABODIES AND BUKLESQUE8. c91 II. THE POET EXPATIATES ON THE BEAUTY OF DELIA'S HAIB. The comb between whose ivory teeth she strains The straightning curls of gold so beamy bright^ Not spotless merely from the touch remains, But issues forth more pure, more milky white. The rose pomatum that the friseur spreads Sometimes with honored fingers for ray fair, No added perfume on her tresses sheds, But borrows sweetness from her sweeter hair. Happy the Friseur who in Delia's hair With Ucensed fingers uncontrolled may rove I And happy in his death the dancing bear, Who died to make pomatum for my love. Oh could I hope that e'er my favored lays Might curl those lovely locks with conscious pride, Nor Hammond, nor the Mantuan shepherd's praise, I 'd envy them, nor wish reward beside. Cupid has strung from you, tresses fine, The bow that in my breast impell'd his dart; From you, sweet locks ! he wove the subtile line Wherewith the urchin angled for my heart. • Fine are my Deha's tresses as the threads That from the silk-worm, self-interr'd, proceed ; Fine as the gleamy Gossamer that spreads His filmy net-work o'er the tangled mead. Yet with these tresses Cupid's power, elate, My captive heart has handcuffed in a chain, Strong as the cables of some huge first-rate, That bears Britannia's thunders o'er the main. The sylphs that round her radiant locks repair, In flowing luster bathe their bright' ning wings ; And Elfin Minstrels with assiduous care. The ringlets rob for Fairy Fiddlestrings. 392 PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. III. THE POET RELATES HOW HE STOLE A LOCK OF DELIa's HAIR, AND HER ANGER. Oh ! be the day accurst that gave me birth ! Ye Seas ! to swallow me, in kindness rise ! Fall on me, mountains ! and thou merciful earth, Open, and hide me from my Delia's eyes. Let universal Chaos now return, Now let the central fires their prison burst, And Earth, and Heaven, and Air, and Ocean burn, For Delia /row;ns. She Frowns, and I am curst. Oh ! I could dare the fury of the fight, Where hostile millions sought my single life ; Would storm Volcanoes, Batteries, with delight, And grapple with Grim Death in glorious strife. Oh I I could brave the bolts of angry Jove, When ceaseless lightnings fire the midnight skies ; What is his wrath to that of her I love ? What is his lightning to my Delia's eyes? Go, fatal lock ! I cast thee to the wind ; Ye serpent curls, ye poison tendrils^ go ! Would I could tear thy memory from ray mind, Accursed lock ; thou cause of all my woe 1 • Seize the curst curls, ye Furies, as they fly I Demons of darkness, guard the infernal roll. That thence your cruel vengeance, when I die. May hnit the knots of torture for my soul. Last nigh1>— Oh hear me, heaven, and grant my prayer ! The BOOK OF FATE before thy suppliant lay. And let me from its ample records tear Only the single page of yesterday ! Or let me meet old Time upon his flight, And I will STOP him on his restless way ; Omnipotent in love's resistless might, rU force him hack the road of yesterday. WILLIS. PARODIES AND UUKl. KSQUES. 393 Last niglit, as o'er the page of love's despair, My Delia bent deliciously to grieve, I stood a treacherous loiterer by her chair, And drew the fatal scissors from my sleeve : And would at that instant o'er my thread The SHEARS OF Atropos had opened then ; And when. I reft the lock from Delia's head, Had cut me sudden from the sons of men ! She heard the scissors that fair lock divide, And while my heart with transport parted big, She cast a fury frown on me, and cried, " You stupid puppy — you have spoiled my wig I" THE BABY'S DEBUT.* [a burlesque imitation of WORDSWORTH. REJECTED ADDRESSES.J JAMES SMITH. [a--oken in the character of Nancy Lake, a girl eight years of age, who is drawn »pon the stage in a child's chaise by Samuel Hughes, her uncle's porter.] My brother Jack was nine in May, And I was eight on New-year's-day ; So in Kate Wilson's shop Papa (he 's my papa and Jack's) Bought me, last week, a doll of wax. And brother Jack a top. Jack 's in the pouts, and this it is — He thinks mine came to more than his ; So to my drawer he goes, Takes out the doll, and, 0, my stars ! He pokes her head between the bars, And melts off half her nose ! • " The author does not, in this instance, attempt to copy any of the higher attributes of Mr. Wordsworth's poetry; but has succeeded perfectly in the imi- tation of bis mawkish affectations of childish simplicity and nursery stammering. We hopo it will make bim a-hamed of his Alice KeU, and the greattr part ''f hi» \ast volumes — of which it is ]ty no means a ;^arod;', bul a vei.' fair, tnd icdeed we Ihiiik a flattering, imitation. ' — EJrnburf Review, 17=^ ii94 PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. Quite cross, a bit of string T beg, And tie it to his peg-top's peg, And bang, with might and main, its head against the parlor-door : Oif flies the head, and hits the floor, And breaks a window-pane. This made him cry with rage and spite : Well, let him cry, it serves him right. A pretty thing, forsooth! If he 's to melt, all scalding hot. Half my doll's nose, and I am not To draw his peg-top's tooth I Aunt Hannah heard the window break, And cried, " naughty Nancy Lake, Thus to distress your aunt : No Drury Lane for you to-day I" And while papa said, " Pooh, she may I" Mamma said, "No, she sha'n'tl" Well, after many a sad reproach. They got into a hackney-coach, And trotted down the street. I saw them go : one horse was blind, The tails of both hung down behind, Their shoes were on their feet. The chaise in which poor brother Bill Used to be drawn to Pentonville, Stood in the lumber-room : I wiped the dust from off the top, Wliile Molly mopped it with a mop. And brushed it with a broom. My uncle's porter, Samuel Hughes, Came in at six to black the shoes, (I always talk to Sam :) So what does he, but takes, and drags Me in the chaise along the flags, And leaves me where I am. PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. 395 My father's walls are made of brick, But not so tall and not so tliick As these ; and, goodness me I My father's beams are made of wood, But never, never half so good ^ As those that now I see. What a large floor ! 'tis Hke a town I The carpet, when they lay it down, Won't hide it, I '11 be bound ; And there 's a row of lamps 1 — my eye I How they do blaze ! I wonder why They keep them on the ground. At first I caught hold of the wing, And kept away ; but Mr. Thing- umbob, the prompter man. Gave with his hand my chaise a shove, And said, " Go on, my pretty love ; Speak to 'em little Nan. " You 've only got to curtsy, whisp- er, hold your chin up, laugh and hsp, And then you 're sure to take : I 've known the day when brats, not quite Thirteen, got fifty pounds a night ; Then why not Nancy Lake ?" But while I 'm speaking, where 's papa ? And where's my aunt? and where 's mamma? Where 's Jack ? there they sit I They smile, they nod ; I '11 go my ways, And order round poor Billy's chaise, To join them in the pit. And now, good gentlefolks, I go To join mamma, and see the show ; So, bidding you adieu, I curtsy like a pretty miss. And if you '11 blow to me a kiss, I '11 blow a kiss to you. [Blows a kiss, and exit.] 396 PARODIES AND BUKLESQUES. PLAY-HOUSE MUSINGS. [a burlesque IMTATION of COLERIDGE. REJECTED ADDRESSES.] JAMES SMITH My pensive Public, wherefore look you sad ? I had a grandmother, she kept a donkey To carry to the mart her crockery-ware, And when that dunkey looked me in the face, His face was sad ! and you are sad, ray Public. Joy should be yours : this tenth day of October Again assembles us in Drury Lane. Long wept my eye to see the timber planks That hid our ruins ; many a day I cried, Ah me ! I fear they never will rebuild it ! Till on one eve, one joyful Monday eve. As along Charles-street I prepared to walk. Just at the corner, by the pastrycook's, I heard a trowel tick against a brick. I looked me up, and straight a parapet Uprose at least seven inches o'er the planks. Joy to thee, Drury ! to myself I said : He of the Blackfriars' Road, who hymned thy downfall In loud Hosannahs, and who prophesied That flames, like those from prostrate Solyma, Would scorch the hand that ventured to rebuild thee, Has proved a lying prophet. From that hour, As leisure offered, close to Mr. Spring's Box-office door, I 've stood and eyed the builders. They had a plan to render less their labors ; Workmen in olden times would mount a ladder With hodded heads, but these stretched forth a pole From the wall's pinnacle, they placed a pulley Athwart the pole, a rope athwart the puUey ; To this a basket dangled ; mortar and bricks Thus freighted, swung securely to the top, And in the empty basket workmen twain Precipitate, unhurt, accosted earth. Oh ! 't was a goodly sound, to hear the people Who watched the work, express their various thoughts I PARODIES AND BUKLESQUES. 397 While some believed it never would be finished, Some, on the contrary, believed it would. I 've heard our front that faces Drury Lane Much criticised ; they say 'tis vulgar brick-work, A mimic manufactory of floor-cloth. One of the morning papers wished that front Cemented Uke the front in Brydges-street ; As now it looks, they call it Wyatt's Mermaid, A handsome woman with a fish's taiL While is the steeple of St. Bride's in Fleet-street, The Albion (as its name denotes) is white ; Morgan and Saunders' shop for chairs and tables Gleams hke a snow-ball in the setting sun ; White is Whitehall. But not St. Bride's in Fleet-street, The spotless Albion, Morgan, no, nor Saunders, Nor white Whitehall, is white as Drury's face. Oh, Mr. Whitbread ! fie upon you, sir I I think you should have built a colonnade ; When tender Beauty, looking for her coach. Protrudes her gloveless hand, perceives the shower, And draws the tippet closer round her throat, Perchance her coach stands half a dozen off. And, ere she mounts the step, the oozing mud Soaks through her pale kid shpper. On the morrow, She coughs at brealdast, and her grufif papa Cries, " There you go ! this comes of playhouses !" To build no portico is penny wise : Heaven grant it prove not in the end pound foolish 1 Hail to thee, Drury ! Queen of Theaters ! What is the Regency in Tottenham-street, The Royal Amphitheater of Arts, Astley's, Olympic, or the Sans Pareil, Compared with thee ? Yet wh^n I view thee pushed Back from the narrow street that christened thee, I know not why they caU thee Drury Lane. Amid the freaks that modern fashion sanctions, It grieves me much to see live animals Brought on the stage. Grimaldi has his rabbit, Laurent his cat, and Bradbury his pig; 398 PARODIES AND BUKLESQUES. Fie on such tricks I Johnson, the macliinist Of former Drury, imitated life Quite to the hfe. The elephant in Blue Beard, Stuffed by his hand, wound round his hthe proboscis As spruce as he who roared in Padmanaba.* Naught born on earth should die. On hackney stands I reverence the coachman who cries " G-ee," And spares the lash. When I behold a spider Prey on a fly, a magpie on a worm, Or view a butcher with horn-handled knife Slaughter a tender lamb as dead as mutton, Indeed, indeed, I 'm very, very sick ! {Esdt hastily. THE THEATER.f [A BURLESQUE IMITATION OF CRABBE. REJECTED ADDRESSES.] JAMES SMITH. Interior of a Theater described. — Pit gradually iills. — The Check-taker. — Pit full. — The Orchestra tuned. — One Fiddle ratlier dilatory. — Is reproved^and repents. — Evolutions of a Play-bill. — Its final Settlement on the Spikes. — The Gods taken to task — and why. — Motley Group of Play-goers. — Holywell-street, St. Pancras. — Emanuel Jennings binds his Son apprentice — not in London — and why. — Episode of the Hat. 'Tis sweet to view, from half-past five to six, Our long wax-candles, with short cotton wicks, Touched by the lamplighter's Promethean art. Start into hght, and make the hghter start ; * " Padmanaba," viz., in a pantomime called Harlequin in Padmanaba. Thio elephant, some years afterward, was exhibited over Exeter 'Change, where it was found necessary to destroy the poor animal by discharges of musketry. When he made his entrance in the pantomime above-iiienlioned, Johnson, the machinist of the rival house, exclaimed, " I should bo very sorry if I could not make a better elephant than that!" t " ' The Theater,' by the Rev. G. Crabbe, we rather think, is the best piece in the collection. It is an exquisite and most masterly imitation, not only of the peculiar style, but of the taste, temper, and manner of description of that most original author. * * • It does not aim, of course, at any shadow of his pathos or moral sublimity, but seems to us to be a singularly faithful copy fif his pas sages of mere description." — Bdinburg Reviow. PAKODIES AND BUllLESQUES. 399 To see red Phoebus through the gallery-pane Tinge with his beams the beams of Drury Lane ; While gradual parties fill our widened pit, And gape, and gaze, and wonder, ere they sit. At first, while vacant seats give choice and ease, Distant or near, they settle where they please ; But when the multitude contracts the span, And seats are rare, they settle where they can. Now the full benches to late comers doom N ,> room for standing, miscalled standing-room. Hark ! the check-taker moody silence breaks, And bawling " Pit full !" gives the checks he takes ; Yet onward still the gathering numbers cram. Contending crowders shout the frequent damn, And all is bustle, squeeze, row, jabbering, and jam. See to their desks Apollo's sons repair — Swift rides the rosin o'er the horse's hair ! In unison their various tones to tune. Murmurs the hautboy, growls the coarse bassoon ; In soft vibration sighs the whispering lute, Tang goes the harpsichord, too-too the flute. Brays the loud trumpet, squeaks the fiddle sharp. Winds the French horn, and twangs the tingUng harp Till, like great Jove, the leader, fingering in. Attunes to order the chaotic din. Now all seems hushed — but, no, one fiddle wit Give half-ashamed, a tiny flourish still. Foiled in his clash, the leader of the clan Reproves with frowns the dilatory man : Then on his candlestick tlirice taps his bow, Nods a new signal, and away they go. Perchance, while pit and gallery cry " Hats ofFl" And awed Consumption checks his chided cough, Some giggling daughter of the Queen of Love Drops, 'reft of pin, her play-bill from abov*^ : 400 PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. Like Icarus, while laughing galleries clap, Soars, ducks, and dives in air the printed scrap ; But, wiser far than he, combustion fears. And, as it flies, eludes the chandeUers ; Tni, sinking gradual, with repeated twirl, It settles, curling, on a fiddler's curl ; Who from his powdered pate the intruder strikes, And, for mere malice, sticks it on the spikes. Say, why these Babel strains from Babel tongnaes ? Who 's that calls " Silence !" with such leathern lungs ? He who, in quest of quiet, " Silence !" hoots, Is apt to make the hubbub he imputes. Wliat various swains our motley walls contain ! Fashion from Moorfields, honor from Cliick Lane ; Bankers from Paper Buildings here resort. Bankrupts from Golden Square and Riches Court ; From the Haymarket canting rogues in grain, Grulls from the Poultry, sots from Water Lane ; The lottery cormorant, the auction shark. The full-price master, and the half-price clerk ; Boys who long Unger at the gallery-door. With pence twice five — they want but twopence more ; Till some Samaritan the two-pence spares. And sends them jumping up the gallery-stairs. Critics we boast who ne'er their malice balk, But talk their minds — we wish they 'd mind their talk : Big- worded bullies, who by quarrels live — Who give the Ue, and tell the lie they give ; Jews from St. Mary's Ax, for jobs so wary, That for old clothes they 'd even ax St. Mary ; And bucks with pockets empty as their pate, Lax in their gaiters, laxer in their gait ; Who oft, when we our house lock up, carouse With tippling tipstaves in a lock-up house. Yet here, as elsewhere, Chance can joy bestow. Where scowling fortune seemed to threaten woe. PAROPIES AND BURLESQUES. 401 John Richard William Alexander Dwyer Was footman to Justinian Stubbs, Esquire; But when John Dwyer listed in the Blues, Emanuel Jennings polished Stubb's shoes. Emanuel Jennings brought his youngest boy Up as a corn-cutter — a safe employ ; In Holywell Street, St. Pancras, he was bred (At number twenty-seven, it is said), Facing the pump, and near the G-ranby's Head : He would have bound him to some shop in town, But with a premium he could not come down. Pat was the urchin's name — a red haired youth, Fonder of purl and skittle-grounds than truth. Silence, ye gods I to keep your tongue in awe, The Muse shall tell an accident she saw. Pat Jennings in the upper gallery sat, But, leaning forward, Jennings lost his hat : Down from the gallery the beaver flew. And spurned the one to settle in the two. How shall he act ? Pay at the gallery-door Two shillings for what cost, when new, but four ? Or till half-price, to save his shilling, wait, And gain his hat again at half-past eight ? Now, while his fears anticipate a thief, John Mulhns whispers, " Take my handkerchief" " Thank you," cries Pat ; " but one won't make a line." " Take mine," cries Wilson ; and cries Stokes, " Take mine." A motley cable soon Pat Jennings ties. Where Spitalfields with real India vies. Like Iris' bow, down darts the painted clew. Starred, striped, and spotted, yellow, red, and blue, Old calico, torn silk, and muslin new. George Green below, with palpitating hand Loops the last 'kerchief to the beaver's band — Up soars the prize ! The youth, with joy unfeigned, Regained the felt, and felt the prize regained ; While to the applauding galleries grateful Pat Made a low bow, and touched the ransomed hat. 402 TARODIES AND BURLESQUIiS. A TALE OF DRURY LANE.* [a burlesque of sir WALTER SCOTt's METRICAL ROMANCES. REJECTED ADDRESSES.] HORACE SMITH. To be spoken by Mr. Kemble, in a suit of tlie Black Prince's Armor, borrowed from the Tower.] Survey this shield, all bossy bright — These cuisses twin behold ! Look on my form in armor dight Of steel inlaid with gold ; My knees are stiif in iron buckles, Stiff spikes of steel protect my knuckles. These once belonged to sable prince, Who never did in battle wince ; With valor tart as pungent quince, He slew the vaunting Gaul. Rest there awhile, my bearded lance, While from green curtain I advance To yon foot-lights, no trivial dance, And tell the town what sad mischance Did Drury Lane befall. THE NIGHT. On fair Augusta's towers and trees Flittered the silent midnight breeze, CurKng the foliage as it past, Which from the moon-tipped plumage cast A spangled light, hke dancing spray, Then reassumed its still array ; When, as night's lamp unclouded hung, And down its full effulgence flung, • " From the parody of Sir Walter Scott we know not what to select — it is all good. The effect of the fire on the town, and tlie description of a fireman in his official apparel, may he quoted as amusing specimens of the vitsap2}licativn of the style and meter of Ml". Scott's admirable romances." — Quarterly Review. •''A Tale of Drury,' by Walter Scott, is, upon the whole, admirably exe cuted ; though the introduction is rather tame. The burning is described with the mighty minstrel's characteristic love of localities. The catastrophe is de- scribed with a spirit not unworthy of the name so venturr asly assumed by the describer." — Edinburq Review. PAKODIES AKD BUKLESQUES. 403 It shed such soft and balmy power That cot and castle, hall and bower, And spire and dome, and turret height, Appear'd to slamber in the light. From Henry's chapel, Rufus' Hall, To Savoy, Temple, and St. Paul, From Knightsbridge, Pancras, Camden Town, To Redriff Shadwell, Horsleydown, No voice was heard, no eye unclosed, But all in deepest sleep reposed. They might have thought, who gazed around Amid a silence so profound. It made the senses thrill, That 't was no place inhabited. But some vast city of the dead — All was so hushed and still. THE BURNING. As chaos, which, by heavenly doom, Had slept in everlasting gloom, Started with terror and surprise When light first flashed upon her eyes — So London's sons in night-cap woke. In bed-gown woke her dames ; For shouts were heard 'mid fire and smoke, And twice ten hundred voices spoke — " The playhouse is in flames !" And, lo ! Avhere Catharine street extends, A fiery tail its luster lends To every window-pane ; Blushes each spout in Martlet Court, And Barbican, moth-eaten fort. And Covent Garden kennels sport, A bright ensanguined drain ; Meux's new brewhouse shows the hghl. Rowland Hill's chapel, and the height Where patent shot they sell ; The Tennis-Court, so fair and tall, Partakes the ray, with Surgeons' Hall, The ticket-porters' house of call, 404 PARODIES AND BURLESQUES Old Bedlam, close by London Wall, Wright's shrimp and oyster shop withal, And Richardson's Hotel. Nor these alone, but far and wide, Across red Thames's gleaming tide, To distant fields the blaze was borne, And daisy white and hoary thorn In borrowed luster seemed to sham The rose of red sweet Wil-h-am. To those who on the hills around Beheld the flames from Drury's mound, As from a lofty altar rise. It seemed that nations did conspire To offer to the god of fire Some vast stupendous sacrifice ! The summoned firemen woke at call, And hied them to their stations all : Starting from short and broken snooze, Each sought his pond'rous hobnailed shoes, But first his worsted hosen plied, Plush breeches next, in crimson dyed, His nether bulk embraced ; Then jacket thick, of red or blue, Whose massy shoulder gave to view The badge of each respective crew, In tin or copper traced. The engines thundered through the street, Fire-hook, pipe, bucket;, all complete, And torches glared, and clattering feet Along the pavement paced. And one, the leader of the band. From Charing Cross along the Strand, Like stag by beagles hunted hard, Ran till he stopped at Vin'gar Yard. The burning badge his shoulder bore, The belt and oil-skin hat he wore. The cane he had, his men to bang, Showed fo-eman of the British gang — His name was Higginbottom. Now 'Tis meet that I should tell you how The others came in view : The Hand-in-lland the race begun. PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. 40S Then came the Phoenix and the Sun, TL Exchange, where old insurers run, The Eagle, where the new ; With these came Rumford, Bumford, Cole, Robins from Hockley in the Hole, Lawson and Dawson, cheek by jowl, Cramp from St Giles's Pound : Whitford and Mitford joined the train, Huggins and Muggins from Chick Lane, And Clutterbuck, who got a sprain Before the plug was found. Hobson and Jobson did not sleep, But ah ! no trophy could they reap For both were in the Donjon Keep Of Bridewell's gloomy mound I E'en Higginbottom now was posed, For sadder scene was ne'er disclosed, Without, within, in hideous show, Devouring flames resistless glow, And blazing rafters downward go, And never halloo " Heads below I" Nor notice give at alL The firemen terrified are slow To bid the pumping torrent flow, For fear the roof would fall. Back, Robins, back; Crump, stand aloof I Whitford, keep near the walls 1 Huggins, regard your own behoof^ For lo ! the blazing rocking roof Down, down, in thunder falls I An awful pause succeeds the stroke. And o'er the rains volumed smoke. Rolling around its pitchy shroud. Concealed them from th' astonished crowd. At length the mist awhile was cleared, When, lo ! amid the wreck upreared. Gradually a moving head appeared, And Eagle firemen knew 'T was Joseph Muggins, name revered, The foreman of their crew. Loud shouted all in signs of woe, " A Muggins ! to the rescue, ho 1" 406 PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. And poured the hissing tide : Meanwhile the Muggins fought amain, And strove and struggled all in vain, For, rallying but to fall again, He tottered, sunk, and died I Did none attempt, before he fell, To succor one they loved so well? Yes, Higginbottom did aspire (His fireman's soul was all on fire), His brother chief to save ; But ah I his reckless generous ire Served but to share his grave ! 'Mid blazing beams and scalding streams, Through fii-e and sm^ke he dauntless broke, Where Muggins broke before. But sulphury stench and boiling drench Destroying sight o'erwhelmed him quite. He sunk to rise no more. Still o'er his head, while Fate he braved. His whizzing water-pipe he waved ; " Whitford and Mitford, ply your pumps, You, Clutterbuck, come, stir your stumps, Why are you in such doleful dumps ? A fireman, and afraid of bumps! — What are they fear'd on ? fools : 'od rot 'em f" Were the last words of Higginbottom, THE REVIVAL. Peace to his soul I new prospects bloom, And toil rebuilds what fires consume ! Eat we and drink we, be our ditty, "Joy to the managing committee!" Eat we and drink we, join to rum Roast beef and pudding of the plum ; Forth from thy nook, John Horner, come. With bread of ginger brown thy thumb, For this is Drury's gay day : EoU, roU thy hoop, and twirl thy tops, And buy, to glad thy smUing chops, PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. 407 Crisp parliament with lollypops, And fingers of the Lady. Didst mark, how toiled the busy train, From mom to eve, till Drury Lane Leaped like a roebuck from the plain? Ropes rose and sunk, and rose again, And nimble workmen trod ; To realize bold Wyatt's plan Rushed may a howling Irishman; Loud clattered many a porter-can, And many a ragamuffin clan, With trowel and with hod. Drury revives I her rounded pate Is blue, is heavenly blue with slate ; She " wings the midway air," elate, As magpie, crow, or chough ; White paint her modish visage smears, Yellow and pointed are her ears. No pendant portico appears Dangling beneath, for Whitbread's shears Have cut the bauble off. Yes, she exalts her stately head ; And, but that solid bulk outspread, Opposed you on your onward tread, And posts and pillars warranted That all was true that Wyatt said, You might have deemed her walls so thui, Were not composed of stone or brick, But all a phantom, all a trick, Of brain disturbed and fancy-sick. So high sbe soars, so vast, so quick I 408 PARODIES AND BUKLESQUES. DRURY'S DIRGE. [bT LAURA MATILDA. — REJECTED ADDRESSES.] HORACE SMITH. " You praise our sires : but though they wrote with force. Their rhymes were vicious, and their diction coarse : We want their strength, agreed ; but we atone For that and more, by sweetness all our own " — Giffobd. Balmy zephyrs, lightly flitting, Shade me with your azure wing ; On Parnassus' summit sitting, Aid me, Clio, while I sing. Softly slept the dome of Drury O'er the empyreal crest, When Alecto's sister-fury Softly slumbering sunk to rest Lo 1 from Lemnos, limping lamely. Lags the lowly Lord of Fire, Cytherea yielding tamely To the Cyclops dark and dire. Clouds of amber, dreams of gladness, Dulcet joys and sports of youth, Soon must yield to haughty sadness, Mercy holds the vail to Truth. See Erostratus the second Fires again Diana's fane ; By the Fates from Orcus beckoned, Clouds envelop Drury Lane. Lurid smoke and frank suspicion Hand in hand reluctant dance : While the god fulfills his mission, Chivarly, resign thy lance. Hark ! the engines blandly thunder. Fleecy clouds disheveled lie, And the firemen, mute with wonder. On the son of Saturn cry. PABODIES AND BURLESQUES. 409 '^ee the bird ofAmmon sailing, Perches on the engine's peak, And, the Eagle firemen hailing. Soothes them with its bickering beak. Juno saw, and mad with malice, Lost the prize that Paris gave ; Jealousy's ensanguined chaUce, Manthng pours the orient wave. Pan beheld Patrocles dying, Nox to Niobe was turned ; From Busiris Bacchus flying, Saw his Semele inumed. Thus feU Drury's lofty glory. Leveled with the shuddering stones Mars, with tresses black and gory. Drinks the dew of pearly groans. Hark I what soft ^olian numbers Gem the blushes of the morn I Break, Amphion, break your slumbers, Nature's ringlets deck the thorn. Ha ! I hear the strain erratic Dimly glance from pole to pole ; Eaptures sweet, and dreams ecstatic Fire my everlasting souL Where is Cupid's crimson motion ? Billowy ecstasy of woe. Bear me straight, meandering ocean, Where the stagnant torrents flow. Blood in every vein is gushing. Vixen vengeance lulls my heart ; See, the Gorgon gang is rushing I Never, never, let us part I 18 10 PARODIES AND BURLESQUES, WHAT IS LIFE? BY "one of the fancy. BLACKWOOD S MAGAZINE And do you ask me, " What is Life?" And do you ask me, " What is pleasure ?" My muse and I are not at strife, So hsten, lady, to my measure : — Listen amid thy graceful leisure, To what is Life, and what is pleasure. 'Tis Life to see the first dawn stain With sallow Ught the window-pane : To dress — to wear a rough drab coat, With large pearl buttons all afloat Upon the waves of plush : to tie A kerchief of the King-cup dye (White spotted with a small bird's-eye) Around the neck, and from the nape Let fall an easy fan-like cape : To quit the house at morning's prime, At six or so — about the time When watchmen, conscious of the day Puff out their lantern's rush-hght ray ; Just when the silent streets are strewn With level shadows, and the moon Takes the day's wink and w^alks aside To nurse a nap till eventide. 'Tis Life to reach the livery stable. Secure the ribbons and the day-biU, And mount a gig that had a spring Some summer's back : and then take wing Behind (in Mr. Hamlet's tongue) A jade whose " withers are unwrung ; Who stands erect, and yet forlorn. And from a half-pay life of corn. Showing as many points each way As Martial's Epigrammata, Yet who, when set a-goir.g, gtycs Like one undestined to repose, 'Tis Life to revel down the road. And queer each o'erfraught chaise's load , PARODIES AND BURI.ESQUES. 411 To rave and rattle at the gate, And shower upon the gatherer's pate Damns by the dozens, and such speeches As ■well betokens one 's slang riches : To take of Deady's bright stark naked A glass or so — 'tis Life to take it ! To see the Hurst with tents encampt on ; Lurk around Lawrence's at Hampton ; Join the flash crowd (the horse being led Into the yard, and clean'd and fed) ; Talk to Dav' Hudson, and Cy' Davis (The last a fighting vara avis), And, half in secret, scheme a plan For trying the hardy Gas-Ught-Man, 'Tis Life to cross the laden ferry, With boon companions, Avild and merry, And see the ring upon the Hurst With carts encircled — ^hear the burst At distance of the eager crowd. Oh, it is Life ! to see a proud And dauntless man step, full of hopes, Up to the P. C. stakes and ropes, Throw in his hat, and with a spring, Get gallantly within the ring; Eye the wide crowd, and walk awhile, Taking all cheerings with a smile : To see him skip — his well-trained form, White, glowing, muscular, and warm, All beautiful in conscious power. Relaxed and quiet, till the hour; His glossy and transparent frame, In radiant plight to strive for fame 1 To look upon the clean shap'd Umb In silk and flannel clothed trim ; While round the waist the 'kerchief tied, Makes the flesh glow in richer pride. 'Tis more than Life, to watch him hold His hand forth, tremulous yet bold, Over his second's, and to clasp His rival's in a quiet grasp ; To watch the noble attitude He takes — the crowd ir breathless mood : tl2 PARODIES AND BUKLESQUES. And then to see, with adamant start, The muscles set, and the great heart Hurl a courageous splendid light Into the eye — and then — the Fight 1 FRAGMENTS. [bt a frbe-loveb.] Blackwood's magazine, 1823. They were not married by a muttering priest. With supei'stitious rites, and senseless words, Out-snuffled from an old worm-eaten book, In a dark corner (railed off like a sheep-pen) Of an old house, that fools do call a Church I Their altar was the flowery lap of earth — The starry empyrean their vast temple — Their book each other's eyes — and Love himsellj Parson, and Clerk, and Father to the bride ! — Holy espousals I whereat wept with joy The spirit of the universe. — In sooth There was a sort of drizzling rain that day, For I remember (having left at home My parapluie, a name than umhreTla Far more expressive) that I stood for shelter Under an entry not twelve paces oflf (It might be ten) from Sheriff Waithman's shop, For half an hour or more, and there I mused (Mine eyes upon the running kennel fixed. That hurried as a het'rogenous mass To the common sewer, it 's dark reservoir), I mused upon the running stream of life I But that 's not much to the purpose — I was telling Of these most pure espousals. — Innocent pair! Ye were not shackled by the vulgar chains About the yielding mind of credulous youth. Wound by the nurse and priest — your energies. Your unsophisticated impulses. Taught ye to soar above their " settled rules Of Vice and Virtue." Fairest creature ! He PARODIES AND BUKLESQUES. 413 Whom the world called tliy husband, was in truth Unworthy of thee. — A. dull plodding wretch ! With whose ignoble nature thy free spirit Held no communion. — 'T was well done, fair crea'ure I T' assert the independence of a mind Created — generated I would say — Free as " that chartered libertine, the air." Joy to thy chosen partner ! blest exchange ! Work of mysterious sympathy ! that drew Your kindred souls by * * * ****** There fled the noblest spirit ! — The most pure, Most subUmated essence that ere dwelt In earthly tabernacle. Gone thou art, Exhaled, dissolved, diffused, commingled now Into and with the all-absorbing frame Of Nature, the great mother. Ev'n in life. While still, pent-up in flesh, and skin, and bones, My thoughts and feehngs like electric flame Shot through the solid mass, toward the source, And blended with the general elements. When thy young star o'er life's horizon hung Far from it's zenith yet low lagging clouds (Vapors of earth) obscured its heaven-born rays — Dull joys of prejudice and superstition And vulgar decencies begirt thee round ; And thou didst wear awhile th' unholy bonds Of " holy matrimony!" and didst vail Awhile thy lofty sphit to the cheat. — But reason came — and firm philosophy. And mild philanthropy, and pointed out The shame it was — the crying, crushing shame, To curb within a little paltry pale The love that over all created things Should be diffusive as the atmosphere. Then did thy boundless tenderness expand Over all space — all animated things And things inanimate. Thou hadst a heart, A ready tear for ciM. — The dying whale. Stranded and gasping — ripped up for his blubber By Man the Tyrant. — The small sucking pig 414 PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. Slain for his riot. — The djwn-trampled flower Crushed, by his cruel fool. — All, each, aud all Shared in thy boundless sympathies, and then — (Sublime perfection of perfected love) Then didst thou spurn the whimp'ring wailing thing That dared to call thee " husband," and to claim, As her just right, support and love from thee — Then didst thou * * * * ******* THE CONFESSION. Blackwood's magazink There 's somewhat on my breast father, There 's somewhat on my breast I The live-long day I sigh, father, At night I can not rest ; I can not take my rest, father, Though I would fain do so, A weary weight oppresseth me — The weary weight of woe 1 'Tis not the lack of gold, father Nor lack of worldly gear ; My lands are broad and fair to see. My friends are kind and dear ; My kin are leal and true, father. They mourn to see my grief, But oh 1 'tis not a kinsman's hand Can give my heart reUef 1 lis not that Janet's false, father, 'Tis not that she's unkind ; Though busy flatterers swarm around, I know her constant mind. 'Tis not her coldness, father. That chills my laboring breast — Its that confounded cucumber I 've ate, and can't digest. PA.RODIES AND BUELESQUES. 415 THE AIILLING-MATCH BETWEEN ENTELLUS AND DARES. TKANSLATED FROM THE FIFTH BOOK OF THE ^NEID, BY ONB OF THE FANCY. THOMAS MOORK. With daddies* high upraised, and noh held back, In awful prescience of the impending thwack, Both Kiddies\ stood — and with prelusive spar. And light manceuv'ring, kindled up the war I The One, in bloom of youth — a light-weight blade— The Other, vast, gigantic, as if made. Express, by Nature for tlie hammering trade ; But aged, slow, with stiff hmbs, tottering much. And lungs, that lack'd the heUows-mender's toucli. Yet, sprightly to the Scratch both Buffers came, While ribbers rung from each resounding frame, And divers digs, and many a ponderous pelt, Were on their broad bread-baskets heard and felt With roving aim, but aim that rarely miss'd. Bound lugs and ogles J flew the frequent fist ; While showers of facers told so deadly well, That the crush'd jaw-bones crackled as they fell I But firmly stood Entellcts — and stiU bright, Though bent by age, with all The Fancy's light, Stopped with a skill, and rallied with a fire The Immorta,l Fancy could alone inspire ! While Dares, shifting round, with looks of thought, An opening to the Cove's huge carcase sought (Like G-eneral Preston, in that awful hour, When on one leg he hopp'd to — take the Tower !) And here, and there, explored with active fin § And skillful /em<, some guardless pass to win, And prove a boring guest when once let in. And now Entellus, with an eye that plann'd Punishing deeds, high raised his heavy hand, But, ere the sledge came down, young Dares spied His shadow o'er his brow, and slipp'd aside — • Hands. 1 Fellows, usually young fcIlowsL % Ears and Eyes. § Arm. 116 PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. So nimbly slipp'd, that the vain nohher pass'd Through empty air ; and He, so high, so vast) Who dealt the stroke, came thundering to the ground 1 Not B — CK — GH — M himself, with bulkier sound, Uprooted from the field of Whiggish glories, Fell souse, of late, among the astonish'd Tories I Instant the Ring was broke, and shouts and yells From Trojan Flashmen and Sicilian Swells FHl'd the wide heaven — while, touch'd with grief to see His pal* well-known through many a lark and spree,t Thus rurrdy floor' d, the kind Acestes ran. And pitying raised from earth the game old man, Uncow'd, undamaged to the sport he came. His limbs all muscle, and his soul all flame. The memory of his milling glories past. The shame that aught but death should see him grassed. All fired the veteran's pluck — with fury flush'd. Full on his light-hmb'd custom,er he rush'd — And hammering right and left, with ponderous swing, Rujflan'd the reeling youngster round the Ring — Nor rest, nor pause, nor breathing-time was given, * But, rapid as the rattling hail from heaven Beats on the house-top, showers of Randall's sJiot J Around the Trojan's lugs flew peppering hot I TDl now jEneas, fill'd with anxious dread, Rush'd in between them, and, with words well-bred Preserved alike the peace and Dares' head, Both which the veteran much incHned to break — Then kindly thus the punisKd youth bespake : Poor Johnny Raw I what madness could unpel So rum a Flat to face so prime a Swell ? Sees't thou not, boy, the Fancy, heavenly Maid, Herself descends to this great Hammerers aid, And, singling him from all her yZosA adorers, Shines in his hiU, and thunders in his floorers ? Then, yield thee, youth — nor such a spooney be, To think mere man can mill a Deity !" Thus spoke the Chief — and now, the scrimage o'er, His faithful pals the done-up Dares bore • Friend. t Party of pleasure and frolia X A favorite blow of thb Nonpabiei,'b, bo called. PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. 417 Back to his home, with tottering gams, sunk heart, And muns and noddle pink'd in every part. While from his gob the guggling claret gush'd, And lots of grinders, from their sockets crus i ', Forth with the crimson tide in rattling frag.nents rush'd 1 NOT A SOUS HAD HE GOT. fPARODY ON Wolfe's " burial of sir joun moore."] R. HARRIS BARHAM. Not a sous had he got — not a guinea or note, And he looked confoundedly flurried, As he bolted away without paykig his shot, And the Landlady after him hurried. We saw him again at dead of night. When home from the Club returning ; We t%vigg'd the Doctor beneath the light Of the gas-lamp brilliantly burning. All bare, and exposed to the midnight dews, Reclined in the gutter we found him ; And he look'd hke a gentleman taking a snooze, With his Marshall cloak around him. " The Doctor 's as drunk as the d ," we said, And we managed a shutter to borrow ; We raised him, and sigh'd at the thought that liis head Whould " consumedly ache" on the morrow. We bore him home, and we put him to bed, And we told his wife and his daughter To give him, next morning, a couple of red Herrings, with soda-water. — Loudly they talk'd of his money that 's gone. And liis Lady began to upbraid him ; But little he reck'd, so they let him snore on 'Neath the counterpane just as we laid him. 18* 418 PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. We tuck'd him in, and had hardly done When, beneath the window calling, We heard the rough voice of a son of a gun Of a watchman " One o'clock !" bawling. Slowly and sadly we all waJk'd down From his room in the uppermost story ; A rushlight was placed on the cold hearth-stone, And we left liim alone in his glory ! 1 RAISING THE DEVIL. A LEGEND «F CORNELIUS AGRIPPA. R. HARRIS BARHAIC " And hast thou nerve enough ?" he said, That gray Old Man, above whose head Unnumbered years have roll'd — " And hast thou nerve to view," he cried, " The incarnate Fiend that Heaven defied ! — — Art thou indeed so bold ? " Say, canst Thou, with unshrinking gaze, Sustain, rash youth, the withering blaze Of that unearthly eye, Tt" at blasts where'er it lights — the breath T lat, like the Simoom, scatters death On all that yet can die ! — " Darest thou confront that fearful form, That rides the whirlwind, and the storm, In wild unholy revel ! — The terrors of that blasted brow, Archangel's once — though ruin'd now — — Ay — dar'st thou face The Devil ?"— " I dare 1" the desperate Youth replied, And placed him by that Old Man's side, y In fierce and frantic glee. PARODIES AND BUELESQUES. 419 Unblenched his cheek, and firm his limb — " No paltry juggling Fiend, but Him I — The Devii I — I fain would see ! — *' In all liis Gorgon terrors clad, His worst, Ms fellest shape I" the Lad Rejoined in reckless tone. — — " Have then thy wish !" Agrippa said, And sigh'd and shook his hoary head, With many a bitter groan. He drew the mystic circle's bound, With skull and cross-bones fenc'd around ; He traced full many a sigil there ; He mutter'd many a backrward pray'r, That sounded hke a curse — " He comes I" — he cried with wild grimace, " The fellest of Apollyon's race I" •■ Then in his startled pupil's face He dash'd — an Empty Purse 1 1 THE LONDON UNIVERSITY;* OR, STINKOMALEE TRIUMPHANS. AH ©"^E TO BE PEEFOBMED ON THE OPENING OF THE NEW OOLLEO& R. HARRIS BARHAM. Whene'er with pitying eye I view Each operative sot in town, I smile to think how wondrous few Get drunk who study at the U- niversity we 've Got in town — niversity we 've Got in town. What precious fools " The People" grew, Their alma mater not in town ; The " useful classes" hardly knew • See page 387. €20 PA.EODIES A^D BURLESQUES. Four was composed of two and two, Until they learned it at the U- niversity we 've Grot in town — niversity we 've Got in town. But now they 're taught by Joseph Hu- me, by far the cleverest Scot in town, Their items and their tottles too ; Each may dissect his sister Sue, From his instructions at the U- niversity we 've Got in town — niversity we 've Got in town. Then L e comes, like him how few Can caper and can trot in town. In pirouette or pas de deux — He beats the famed Monsieur Gfiroux, And teaches dancing at the U- niversity we 've Got in town — niversity we 've Got in town. And Gilchrist, see, that great Geentoo- Professor, has a lot in town Of Cockney boys who fag Hindoo, And lam Jem-nasties at the U- niversity we 've Got in town— niversity we 've Got in town. Sam R corpse of vampire hue, Comes from its grave to rot in town ; For Bays the dead bard 's crowned with Yew, And chants, the Pleasures of the U- niversity we've Got in town — niversity we 've Got in town. Frank Jeffrey, of the Scotch Review, — Whom Moore had nearly shot in town, — Now, with his pamphlet stitched in blue And yellow, d — ns the other two. But lauds the ever-glorious U- niversity we 've Got in iovm — niversity we 've Got in town. PARODIES AND BUKLESQUES. 421 Great Birbeck, king of chips and glue, Wlio paper oft does blot in town, From the Mechanics' Institu- tion, comes to prate of wedge and screw, Lever and axle at the U- niversity we 've Got in town— niversity we 've Got in towTi- LoB " Waitham, who long since withdrew Fi om Mansion House to cot in town ; Adorn'd with chair of ormolu, All darkly grand, like Prince Lee Boo, Lectures on Free Trade at the U- niversity we 've Got in town — niversity we've Got in town. Fat F , with his coat of blue. Who speeches makes so hot in town. In rhetoric, spells his lectures through. And sounds the V for W, The vay they speaks it at the U- niversity we 've Got in town — niversity we 've Got in town. Then H e comes, who late at New- gate Market, sweetest spot in town I Instead of one clerk popp'd in two. To make a place for his ne-phew. Seeking another at the U- niversity we 've Got in town — niversity we 've Got in town. There 's Captain Ross, a traveler true. Has just presented, what in town- ' 's an article of great virtu (The telescope he once peep'd through, And 'spied an Esquimaux canoe On Croker Mountains), to the U- niversity we 've Got in town— niversity we 've Got in town. Since Michael gives no roast nor stew, Where Whigs might eat and plot in town, And swill his port, and mischief brew — 422 PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. Poor Creevy sips his water gru- el as the beadle of the U- niversity we 've Got in town — niversity we 've Got in town. There 's Jerrt Bentham and his crew, Names ne'er to be forgot in town, In swarms like Banquo's long is-sue — Turk, Papist, Infidel and Jew, Come trooping on to join the U- niversity we 've Got in town — niversity we 've Got in town. To crown the whole with triple queue — Another such there 's not in town, Twitching his restless nose askew, Behold tremendous Harry Brough- am I Law Professor at the U- niversity we 've Got in town — niversity we 've Got in town. Grand chorus : Huzza ! huzza ! for Harry Brough- am I Law Professor at the U- niversity we 've Got in town — niversity we 've Got in town. DOMESTIC POEMS. THOMAS HOOD. I. GOOD-NIGHT. The sun was slumbering in the west, my daily labors past ; On Anna's soft and gentle breast my head reclined at last ; The darkness closed around, so dear to fond congenial souls ; And thus she murmured in my ear, " My love, we 're out of coals I " That Mister Bond has called again, insisting on his rent ; And all the Todds are coming up to see us, out of Kent ; pAlBodies and burlesques. 423 I quite forgot to tell you John has had a tipsy fall ; — I 'm sure tliere 's some tiling going on with that vile Mary Hall ! " Miss Bell has bought the sweetest silk, and I have bought the rest — Of course, if we go out of town, Southend will be the best I really think the Jones's house would be the thing for us j 1 think I told you Mrs. Pope had parted with her nits — •^ Cuok, by the way, came up to-day, to bid me suit myself — And, what 'd ye think ? the rats have gnawed the victuals on the shelf. A.nd, Lord ! there 's such a letter come, inviting you to fight ! Of course you don't intend to go — God bless you, dear, good- night I" n. A PARENTAL ODE TO MT SON, AGED THREE YEARS AND FIVK MONTHS. Thou happy, happy elf! (But stop — first let me kiss away that tear) — Thou tiny image of myself I (My love, he 's poking peas into his ear I) Thou merry, laughing sprite ! With spirits feather-hght. Untouched by sorrow, and unsoiled by sin — (Good heavens ! the child is swallowing a pin 1) Thou Httle tricksy Puck I With antic toys so funnily bestuck. Light as the singing bird that wings the air — (The door ! the door ! he '11 tumble down the stair I) Thou darUng of thy sire I (Why, Jane, he '11 set his pinafore afire I) Thou imp of mirth and joy 1 In Love's dear chain so strong and bright a link, Thou idol of thy parents — (Dra( the boy ! There goes my ink I) Thou cherub — but of earth ; Fit playfellow for Fays, by moonUght pale, 424 PARODIES AND BURLBSQCES. In harmless sport and mirth, (That dog will bite him if he pulls its tail !) Thou human humming-bee, extracting honey From every blossom in the world that blows, Singing in youth's elysium ever sunny, (Another tumb 1 — that's his precious nose !) Thy father's pride and hope ! (He '11 break the mirror with that skipping-rope !) With pure heart newly stamped from Nature's mint — (Where did he learn that squint ?) Thou young domestic dove I (He '11 have that jug off, with anotlier shove I) Dear nursling of the Hymeneal nest! (Are those torn clothes liis best ?) Little epitome of man I (He 'U climb upon the table, that 's his plan !) Touched with the beauteous tints of dawning life — (He 's got a knife !) Thou enviable being I No storms, no clouds, in thy blue sky foreseeing, Play on, play on. My elfin John ! Toss the light ball — bestride the stick — (I knew so many cakes would make him sick 1) With fancies, buoyant as the thistle-down. Prompting the face grotesque, and antic brisk, With many a lamb-like frisk, (He 's got the scissors, snipping at your gown !) Thou pretty opening rose I (Go to your mother, child, and wipe your nose !) Balmy and breathing music like the South, (He really brings my heart into my mouth !) Fresh as the morn, and brilliant as its star — (1 wish that window had an iron bar !) Bold as the hawk, yet gentle as the dove — (I '11 tell you what, my love, I can not write, unless he 's sent above I) PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. »^2n m. A SERENADE. « Lullaby, 0, lullaby I" Thus I heard a father cry, " Lullaby, O, luUaby 1 The brat wiU never shut an eye ; Hither come, some power to ine i Close his lids, or open mine !" "LuUaby, 0, lullaby! What the devil makes him cry ? LuUaby, 0, luUaby 1 StUl he stares — I wonder why, Why are not the sons of earth Blind, Uke puppies, from their birth ?" "Lullaby, 0, luUaby!" Thus I heard the father cry ; "Lullaby, 0, lullaby! Mary, you must come and try ! — Hush, 0, hush, for mercy's sake — The more I sing, the more you wake I" "Lullaby, O, luUaby! Fie, you Uttle creature, fie I LuUaby, 0, luUaby! Is no poppy-syrup nigh? Give him some, or give him all, I am nodding to his faU !" " LuUaby, 0, luUaby I Two such nights and I shaU die 1 LuUaby, 0, luUaby ! He 'U be bruised, and so shaU I — How jan I from bed-posts keep, When I 'm walking in my sleep 1" "LuUaby, 0, lullaby! Sleep his very looks deny — LuUaby, luUaby ! ~ Nature soon wiU stupefy — 426 PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. My nerves relax — my eyes grow dim — Who 's that fallen — me or him ?" ODE TO PERRY, THE INVENTOR OF THE STEEL PEN. THOMAS HOOD. " In this good work, Penn appears the greatest, usefullest of God's instruments. Firm and unbending when the exigency requires it — soft and yielding when rigid inflexibility is not a desideratum — fluent and flowing, at need, for eloquent rapid- ity — slow and retentive in cases of deliberation — n ver spluttering or by amplifi- cation going wide of the mark — never splitting, if it can be helped, with any one. but ready to wear itself out rather in their service — all things as it were with all Men — ready to embrace the hand of Jew, Christian, or Mohammedan — heavy with the German, light with the Italian, oblique with the English, upright with the Roman, backward in coming forward with the Hebrew — in short, for flexi- bility, amiability, constitutional durability, general ability, and universal utility, it would be hard to find a parallel to the great Penu." — Peeby's CHAEACTEBiSTica OF A Settleb. ! Patent Pen-inventing Perrian Perry ! Friend of the goose and gander, That now unplucked of their quill-feathers wander, Cackhng, and gabbling, dabbling, making merry, About the happy fen, Untroubled for one penny-worth of pen. For which they chant thy praise all Britain through, From Goose-Green unto Gander-Cleugh I — Friend to all Author-kind — Whether of Poet or of Proser — Thou art composer unto the composer Of pens — yea, patent vehicles for Mind To carry it on jaunts, or more extensive Perry gr'mations through the realms of thought ; Each plying from the Comic to the Pensive, An Omnibus of intellectual sort ; Modern improvements in their course we feel , And while to iron railroads heavy wares. Dry goods and human bodies, pay their fares. Mind flies on steel. PARODIES A.ND BURLESQUES. 427 To Penrith, Penrhyn, even to Penzance ; Nay, penetrates, perchance, To Pennsylvania, or, without rash vaunts, To where the Penguin haunts ! In times bygone, when each man cut Ms quill, With little Perryan skill. What horrid, awkward, bungling tools of trade Appeared the writing implements home-made ! What Pens were sliced, hewed, hacked, and haggled oulj Slit or unsht, with many a various snout. Aquiline, Roman, crooked, square, and snubby. Stumpy and stubby ; Some capable of ladye-billets neat. Some only fit for ledger-keeping clerk. And some to grub down Peter Stubbs his mark. Or smudge through some illegible receipt ; Others in florid caligraphic plans. Equal to ships, and wiggy heads, and swans I To try in any common inkstands, then, With all their miscellaneous stocks, To find a decent pen, Was like a dip into a lucky box : You drew — and got one very curly. And split Hke endive in some hurly-burly ; The next unslit, and square at end, a spade , The third, incipient pop-gun, not yet made ; The fourth a broom ; the fifth of no avail, Turned upward, like a rabbit's tail ; And last, not least, by way of a relief, A stump that Master Richard, James or John, Had tried his candle-cookery upon. Making " roast-beef!" -'s Not so thy Perryan Pens ! True to their M's and N's, They do not with a whizzing zig-zag split, Straddle, turn up their noses, sulk, and spit, Or drop large dots, Hugh full-stop blots, Where even semicolons were unfit. 428 PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. They will not frizzle up, or, broom-like, drudge In sable sludge — Nay, bought at proper " Pate^xt Perryan" shops. They write good grammar, sense, and mind their stopa Compose both prose and verse, the sad and merry — For when the editor, whose pains compile The grown-up Annual, or the Juvenile, Vaunteth his articles, not women's, men's. But lays " by the most celebrated Pens," What means he but thy Patent Pens, my Perry ? Pleasant they are to feel ! So firm ! so flexible I composed of steel So finely tempered — fit for tenderest Miss To give her passion breath. Or kings to sign the warrant stern of death — But their supremest merit still is this, Write with them all your days. Tragedy, Comedy, all kinds of plays — (No dramatist should ev^er be without 'em) — And, just conceive the bliss — There is so little of the goose about 'em. One 's safe fi'om any hiss I Ala ! who can paint that first great awful night, Big with a blessing or a blight. When the poor dramatist, all fume and fret, Fuss, fidget, fancy, fever, funking, fright, Ferment, fault-fearing, faintness — more f s yet : Flushed, frigid, flurried, flinching, fitful, flat. Add famished, faddled, and fatigued, to that", Funeral, fate-foreboding — sits in doubt. Or rather doubt with hope, a wretched marriage To see his play upon the stage come out ; No stage to him ! it is Thalia's carriage. And he is sitting on the spikes behind it. Striving to look as if he did n't mind it I *o Witness how Beazley vents upon his hat His nervousness, meanwhile his fate is dealt He kneads, molds, pummels it, and sits it flat, Squeezes and twists it up, until the felt. That went a beaver in, comes out a rat I TARODIES AXD BURLESQUES, 429 Miss Mitford had mis-givia^s, and in fright, Upon Rienzi's night, Gnawed up one long kid glove, and all her bag, Quite to a rag. Knowles has confessed he trembled as for life, Afraid of his own " Wife;" Poole told me that he felt a monstrous pail Of water backing him, all down his spine — • " The ice-brook's temper" — pleasant to the chine I For fear that Simpson and his Co. should fail. Did Lord Glengall not frame a mental prayer. Wishing devoutly he was Lord knows where ? Nay, did not Jerrold, in enormous drouth, While doubtful of Nell Gwynne's eventful luck, Squeeze out and suck More oranges with his one fevered mouth Than Nelly had to hawk from north to south ? Yea, Buckstone, changing color like a mullet, Refused, on an occasion, once, twice, thrice. From his best friend, an ice. Lest it should hiss in liLs own red-hot gullet Doth punning Peake not sit upon the points Of his own jokes, and shake in all his joints, During their trial ? 'Tis past denial. And does not Pocock, feeling, Uke a peacock, All eyes upon him, turn to very meacock ? And does not Planche, tremulous and blank. Meanwhile his personages tread the boards, Seem goaded by sharp swords. And caUed upon himself to " walk the plank ?" As for the Dances, Charles and George to boot, What have they more Of ease and rest, for sole of either foot, Than bear that capers on a hotted floor I Thus pending — (.loes not Matthews, at sad shift For voice, croak like a frog m waters fenny ? — Serle seem upon the surly seas adrift ? — And Kenny think he 's going to Kilkenny ? — i30 PARODIES AND BUKLESQUES Haynes Bayly feel Old ditto, with the note Of Cotton in his ear, a mortal grapple About his arms, and Adam's apple Big as a fine Dutch codling in his throat ? Did Rodwell, on his chimney-piece, desire Or not to take a jump into the fire ? Did Wade feel as composed as music can ? And was not Bernard his own Nervous Man ? Lastly, don't Farley, a bewildered elf. Quake at the Pantomime he loves to cater, And ere its changes ring transform himself? A frightful mug of human delf ? A spirit-bottle — empty of " the cratur '{ A leaden-platter ready for the shelf? A thunderstruck dumb-waiter ? To clench the fact. Myself, once guilty of one small rash act, Committed at the Surrey, Quite in a hurry, Felt all this flurry, Corporal worry. And spiritual scurry. Dram-devil — attic curry ! All going well, From prompter's bell, Until befeU A hissing at some duU imperfect dunce — There 's no denying I felt in all four elements at once ! My head was swimming, while my arms were flyiiig I My legs for running— all the rest was frying 1 Thrice welcome, then, for this peculiar use, Thy pens so innocent of goose 1 For this shall dramatists, when they make merry, Discarding port and sherry, Drink— "Perry!" Perry, whose fame, peunated, is let loose To distant lands. Perry, admitted on all hands, PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. 431 Text, running, German, Roman, For Patent Perryans approached by no man I And when, ah me ! far distant be the hour 1 Pluto shall call thee to his gloomy bower, Many shall be thy pensive mourners, many ! And Penury itself shall club its penny I To raise thy monument in lofty place, Higher than York's or any son of War ; While time all meaner effigies shall bury, On due pentagonal base ShaU stand the Parian, Perryan, periwigged Perry, Perched on the proudest peak of Penman MawT 1 A THEATRICAL CURIOSITY. cruikshank's omnibus. Once in a barn theatric, deep in Kent, A famed tragedian — one of tuneful tongue — Appeared for that niglit only — 't was Charles Young. As Rolla he. And as that Innocent, The Child of hapless Cora, on there went A smihng, fair-hair'd girl. She scarcely flung A shadow, as she walk'd the lamps among — So Ught she seem'd, and so inteUigent I That child would Rolla bear to Cora's lap : Snatching the creature by her tiny gown. He plants her on his shoulder, — All, all clap I While all with praise the Infant Wonder crown, Slie lisps in Rolla's ear, — " Look out, old chap, Or else Fm hloufd if you don't have me down /" SIDDONS AND HER MAID,, W. a. LANDOa. Siddons. I leave, and unreluctant, the repast ; The herb of China is its crown at last. Maiden 1 hast thou a thimble in thy gear ? Maid. Yes, missus, yes. i32 PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. Siddons. Then, maiden, place it here, With penetrated, penetrating eyes. Maid. Mine ? missus ! are they ? Siddons. Child I thou art unwise, Of needles', not of woman's eyes, I spake. Maid. dear me I missus, what a sad mistake I Siddons. Now canst thou tell me what was that which ' Athenian Theseus into labyrinth dread ? Maid. He never told me : I can't say, not I, Unless, mayhap, 't was curiosity. Siddons. Fond maiden I Maid. No, upon my conscience, madam I If I was fond of 'em I might have had 'em. Siddons. Avoid I avaunt ! beshrew me ! 't is iu vain That Shakspeare's language germinates again. THE SECRET SORROW. PUNCH. Oh I let me from the festive board To thee, my mother, flee ; And be my secret sorrow shared By thee — by only thee I In vain they spread the gUtt'ring store, The rich repast, in vain ; Let others seek enjoyment there, To me 'tis only pain. There was a word of kind advice — A whisper soft and low, But oh ! that one resistless smile ! Alas I why was it so ? No blame, no blame, my mother dear. Do I impute to you, But since I ate that currant tart I don't know what to do ! PARODIES AND BUKLESQUES. 4S3 SONG FOR PUNCH DRINKEllS. AFTER SCEILLBR. PUNOB. Four be the elements, Here we assemble 'em, Each of man's world And existence an emblem. Press from the lemon The slow flowing juices — Bitter is life In its lessons and uses. Bruise the fair sugar lumps — Nature intended Her sweet and severe To be everywhere blended. Pour the stO) water — TJnwarning by sound, Eternity's ocean Is hemming us round. Mingle the spirit, The hfe of the bowl- Man is an earth-clod Unwarmed by a soul ! Drink of the stream Ere its potency goes I — No bath is refreshing Except while it glows I THE SONG OF THE HUMBUGGED HUS13AND. PUNCH. She 's not what fancy painted her — I'm sadly taken in : If some one else had won her, I Should not have cared a pin, 19 434 PAEODIES AND BURLESQUES. I thought that she was mild and good As maiden e'er could be ; I wonder how she ever could Have so much humbugg'd me. They cluster round and shake my hand — They tell me I am blest : My case they do not understand — I think that I know best They say she 's fairest of the fair — They drive me mad and madder. What do they mean by it ? I swear I only wish they had her. 'Tis true that she has lovely locks, That on her shoulders fall ; What would they say to see the box In which she keeps them all ? Her taper fingers, it is true, 'Twere difficult to match : What would they say if they but knew IIow terribly they scratch ? TEMPERANCE SONG. PUNCH. AxB.— Friend of my soul. Friend of my soul, this water sip, Its strength you need not fear ; Tis not so luscious as egg-flip, Nor half so strong as beer. Like Jenkins when he writes. It can not touch the mind ; Unhke what he indites. No nausea leaves behind. PARODIES AND B <4L2SQUES. 435 LINES ADDRESSED TO ** **** ***** qjj ^HE 29Tn OF SEPTEMBER, WHEN WE PVRTED FOR TKE LAST TIME. PUNCH. I HAVE watch'd thee with rapture, and dwelt on thy charm& As link'd in Love's fetters we wander'd each day ; And each night I have sought a new Ufe in thy arms. And sigh'd that our union could last not for aye. But thy life now depends on a frail silken thread, Which i even by kindness may cruelly sever, And I look to the moment of parting with dread, For I feel that in parting I lose thee forever. Sole being tliat cherish'd my poor troubled heart ! Thou kuow'st all its secrets — each joy and each grief; And in sharing them all thou did'st ever impart To its sorrows a gentle and soothing reUef. The last of a long and afifectionate race, As thy days are decUning I love thee the more, For I feel that thy loss I can never replace — That thy death will but leave me to weep and deplore. Unchanged, thou shalt live in the mem'ry of years, I can not — I will not — ^forget what thou wert ! While the thoughts of thy love as they call forth my tears, In fancy will wash thee once more — my last shirt. , Grub-street. MADNESS. There is a madness of the heart, not head — That in some bosoms wages endless war ; There is a throe when other pangs are dead, That shakes the system to its utmost core PUNCH 436 PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. There is a tear more scalding than the brine Tliat streams from out the fountain of the eye, And hke the lava leaves a scorched line, As in its fiery course it rusheth by. What is that madness ? Is it envy, hate, Or jealousy more cruel than the grave. With all the attendants that upon it wait And make the victim now despair, now rave ? It is when hunger, clara'ring for relief, Hears a shrill voice exclaim, " Tliat graceless sinner, The cook, has been, and gone, and burnt the beef. And spilt the tart — in short, she 's dish 'd the dinner 1' THE BANDIT'S FATE. prscH. He wore a brace of pistols the night when first we met, His deep-lined brow was frowning beneath his wig of jet, His footsteps had the moodiness, his voice the hollow tone, Of a bandit-chief, who feels remorse, and tears his hair alone — I saw him but at half-price, yet methinks I see him now, In the tableau of the last act, with the blood upon Ids brow. A private bandit's belt and boots, when next we met, he wore ; His salary, he told me, was lower than before ; And standing at the 0. P. wing he strove, and not in vain, To borrow half a sovereign, which he never paid again. I saw it but a moment — and I wish I saw it now — As he buttoned up his pocket with a condescending bow. And once again we met ; but no bandit chief was there ; His rouge was off, and gone that head of once luxuriant hair: He k)dges in a two-pair back, and at the public near. He can not liquidate his " chalk," or wipe away his beer. I saw him sad and seedy, yet methinks I see him now. In the tableau of the last act, with the blood upon his brow. PARODIES AND BuKLESQUKS. 137 LINES WRITTEN AFTER A BATTLE. Br AN ASSISTANT SURGEON OF THE NINETEENTH NANKEENS. PUNCH. Stiff are the warrior's muscles, Congeal'd, alas I his chyle ; No more in hostile tussles Will he excite his bile. Dry is the epidermis, A vein no longer bleeds — And the communis vermis Upon the warrior feeds. ■^1 Compress' d, alas ! the thorax, That throbbed with joy or pain ; Not e'en a dose of borax Could make it throb again. Dried up the warrior's throat is, All shatter' d too, his head : StiU is the epiglottis — - The warrior is dead. THE PHRENOLOGIST TO HIS MISTRESS. PUNCH Though largely developed's my organ of order, And though I possess my destructiveness small. On suicide, dearest, you '11 force me to border, If thus you are deaf to my vehement call. For thee veneration is daily extending. On a head that for want of it once was quite flat ; If thus with my passion I find you contending. My organs will swell till they 've knocked off my hat. 1 know, of perceptions, I 've none of the clearest ; For while I beheve that by tliee I 'm beloved, I 'm told at my passion thou secretly sneerest ; Hut oh ! may the truth unto me never be proved I 4 ,'58 PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. 1 '11 fly to Deville, and a cast of my forehead I '11 send unto thee ; — then upon thee I '11 caU. Kejection — alas 1 to the lover how horrid — Wlien 'tis passion that spurs-hwi, 'tis bitter as gaU. THE CHEMIST TO HIS LOVE. puNoa 1 LOVE thee, Mary, and thou lovest me — Our mutual flame is like th' afl&nity That doth exist between two simple bodies : I am Potassium to thine Oxygen. 'Tis Uttle that the holy marriage vow Shall shortly make us one. That unity Is, after all, but metaphysical. 0, would that I, my Mary, were an acid, A Uving acid ; thou an alkali Endow'd with human sense, that, brought together, We both might coalesce into one salt, One homogeneous crystal. Oh ! that thou Wert Carbon, and myself were Hydrogen ; We would unite to form defiant gas, Or common coal, or naphtha — would to heaven That I were Phosphorus, and thou wert Lime • And we of Lime composed a Phosphuret. I 'd be content to be Sulphuric Acid, So that thou might be Soda. In tliat case We should be G-lauber's Salt. Wert thou Magnesia Instead we 'd form that's named from Epsom. Couldst thou Potassa be, I Aqua-fortis, Our happy union should that compound form, Nitrate of Potash — otherwise Saltpeter. And thus our several natures sweetly blent, We'd live and love together, until death Should decompose the fleslily tertium quid, Leaving our souls to aU eternity Amalgamated. Sweet, thy name is Briggs And mine is Johnson. Whereforr, should not we Agree to form a Johnsonate of B/'iggs ? We will. The day, the happy day, is nigh, When Johnson shall with beauteous Briggs combine. 'oo^ PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. 439 A BALLAD OF BEDLAM. PITNOH. O, LADY wake ! — the azure moon Is rippling in the verdant skies, The owl is warbling his soft tune, ^ Awaiting but thy snowy eyes. The joys of future years are past, To-morrow's hopes have fled away ; Still let us love, and e'en at last, We shall be happy yesterday. The early beam of rosy night Drives off the ebon mom afar, While through the murmur of the light The huntsman winds his mad guitar. Then, lady, wake ! my brigantine Pants, neighs, and prances to be free ; Till the creation I am thine. To some rich desert fly with me. STANZAS TO AN EGG. [by a spoon.] Pledge of a feather'd pair's affection, Kidnapped in thy downy nest. Soon for my breakfast — sad reflection ! — Must thou in yon pot be drest. What are the feelings of thy mother ? Poor bereaved, unhappy hen ! Though she may lay, perchance, another, Thee she ne'er will see again. Yet do not mourn. Although above thee Never more shall parent brood. Know, dainty darling ! that I love thee Dearly as thy mother could. PUMOH. V V 440 PARODIES AND BUELESQUES. A FRAGMENT. PUNCH. His eye was stern and wild, — his cheek was pale and cold as clay; Upon liis tightened lip a smile of fearful meaning lay ; He mused awhile — but not in doubt — no trace of doubt wag there ; ^^ —>» It was ffie^eady solemn pause of resolute despair. Once more he look'd upon the scroll — once more its words he read — Then calmly, with unflinching hand, its folds before him spread. I saw liim bare his throat, and seize the blue cold-gleaming steel, And grimly try the tempered edge he was so soon to feel ! A sickness crept upon my heart, and dizzy swam my head . — I could not stir — I could not cry — I felt benumb'd and deacl ; Black icy horrors struck me dumb, and fi'oze my senses o'er ; I closed my eyes in utter feai', and strove to tliink no more. * :): 4s H: * 4: * Again I looked, — a fearful change across his face had pass'd — He seem'd to rave, — on cheek and Up a flaky foam was cast ; He raised on liigh the glitteirng blade — then first I found a tongue — "HoldpmadmanI stay thy frantic deed!" I cried, and forth I sprung; He heard me, but he heeded not ; one glance around he gave ; And ere I could arrest his hand, he had begun to shave I EATING SONG. PUNCH. On I carve me yet another slice, help me to more gravy still. There 's naught so sure as something nice To conquer care, or grief to kill. I always loved a bit of beef. When Youth and Bliss and Hope were mine ; And now it gives my heart relief In sorrow's darksome hour — to dine I PA 14 DIES A.ND BUULEStiUES. 44i THE SICK CHILD. [by the honorable WILHELMINA SKEGGS.J PUNCH. A WEAKNESS seizes on my mind — I would more pudding take ; But all in vain — I feel — I feel — my little head will ache. Oh ! that I might alone be left, to rest where now I am, And finish with a piece of bread that pot of currant jam. I gaze upon the cake with tears, and wildly I deplore That T must take a powder if I touch a morsel more, Or oil of castor, smoothly bland, will ofFer'd be to me, In wave pellucid, floating on a cup of milkless tea. It may be so — I can not tell — I yet may do without ; They need not know, when left alone, what I have been about I long to eat that potted beef — to taste that apple-pie ; I long — I long to eat some more, but have not strength to try. I gasp for breath, and now I know I 've eaten far too much ; Not one more crumb of all the feast before me can I touch, Susan, oh I Susan, ring the bell, and call for mother, dear. My brain swims round — I feel it all — mother, your child is queer 1 THE IMAGINATIVE CRISIS. PUNCH. On, solitude ! thou wonder-working fay, Come nurse my feeble fancy in your arms, Though I, and thee, and fancy town-pent lay, Come, call around, a world of country charms. Let all this room, these walls dissolve away, And bring me Surrey's fields to take their place : This floor be grass, and draughts as breezes play ; Yon curtains trees, to wave in summer's face ; My ceiling, sky ; my water-jug a stream ; My bed, a bank, on which to muse and dream. 19* 442 PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. The spell is wrought : imagination swells My sleeping-room to hills, and woods, and dells ! I walk abroad, for naught my footsteps hinder, And fling my arms. Oh I mi 1 I 've broke the winder I LINES TO BESSY. [by a student at law.] My head is like a title-deed, Or abstract of the same : Wherein, my Bessy, thou may'st read Thine own long-cherish'd name. Against thee I my suit have brought, I am thy plaintifif lover, And for the heart that thou hast caught^ An action lies — of trover. Alas, upon me every day The heaviest costs you levy: Oh, give me back my heart — but nay I I feel I can't replevy. I 'U love thee with my latest breath, Alas, I can not you shun, TUl the hard hand of sheriff death Takes me in execution. Say, Bessy dearest, if you will Accept me as a lover ? Must true aifection file a bill The secret to discover ? Is it my income's small amount That leads to hesitation ? Refer the question of account To Cupid's arbitration. puNoa PARODIES AND BUKLESQUES. 443 MONODY ON THE DEATH OF AN ONLY CLIENT. PUNCH. Oh I take away my wig and gown, Their sight is mockery now to me : I pace my chambers up and do^vn, Reiterating " Where is he f" Alas I wild echo, with a moan, Mm-murs above my feeble head : In the wide world I am alone ; Ha ! ha ! my only cHent's — dead I In vain the robing-room I seek ; The very waiters scarcely bow ; Their looks contemptuously speak, " He 's lost his only chent now." E'en the mild usher, who, of yore, Would hasten when his name I said, To hand in motions, comes no more, He knows my only client's dead. Ne'er shall I, rising up in court. Open the pleadings of a suit : Ne'er shall the judges cut me short While moving them for a compute. No more with a consenting brief Shall I politely bow my head ; Where shall I run to hide my grief? Alas ! my only client 's dead. Imagination's magic power Brings back, as clear, as clear as can be, The spot, the day, the very hour, When first I sign'd my maiden plea. In the Exchequer's hindmost row I sat, and some one touched my head, He tendered ten-and-six, but oh ! That only cUent now is dead. 444 PARODIES AND BUKLESQUES. In vain I try to sing — I 'm hoarse : In vain I try to play the flute, A phantom seems to flit across — It is the ghost of a compute. I try to read, — but all in vain ; My chamber listlessly I tread ; Be still, my heart ; tlnob less, my brain ; Ho ! ho ! my only client's dead. I tiiink I hear a double knock : I did — alas ! it is a dun. Tailor — avaunt ! my sense you shock ; He 's dead ! you know I had but one. What 's this they thrust into my hand ? A bill returned 1 — ten pounds for bread I My butcher's got a large demand ; I 'm mad ! my only client's dead. LOVE ON THE OCEAN. PUNCH. They met, 't was in a storm On the deck of a steamer ; She spoke in language warm, Like a sentimental dreamer. He spoke — at least he tried ; His position he altered ; Then turned his face aside, And his deep-ton'd voice falter' d. She gazed upon the wave. Sublime she declared it; But no reply he gave — He could not have dared it. A breeze came from the south, Across the billows sweeping ; His heart was in his mouth. And out he thought 't was leaping. PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. 44<3 •* O, then, Steward 1 " he cried With the deepest emotion; Then totter'd to the side, And leant o'er the ocean. The world may think him cold, But they '11 pardon him with quickness, When the fact they shall be told, That he suffer'd from sea-sickness. « OH ! WILT THOU SEW MY BUTTONS ON ? " * AND "YES, I WILL SEW THY BUTTONS ON !" PUNCH. [Just at present no lyrics have so iclatant a succis de societe as the charming companion ballads which, under the above pathetic titles, have made a fure-ur in the fashionable circles to which the fair composer, to whom they are attrib- uted in the causeries of May Fair and Belgravia (The Hon. Mrs. N — T — n), be- longs. The touching event to which they refer, is the romantic union of the Hon. Miss Bl — che de F— tz — fl — m to C — pt— n de B — ts, of the C— ds— m G — DS, which took the beau monde by surprise last sea.son. Previous to the eclair- cissement, the gifted and lovely composer, at a ball given by the dibtiuguished D — CH — ss of S — TH — D, accidentally overheard the searching question of the gal. lant but penniless Captain, and the passionate and self-devoted answer of his lovely and universally admired fiancee. She instantly rushed home and pro- duced these pathetic and powerful ballads.] " Oh ! wilt thou sew my buttons on, When gayer scenes recall That fairy face, that stately grace, To reign amid the ball ? When Fulham's bowers their sweetest flowers For fete-champetres shall don, Oh! say, wilt thou, of queenly brow. Still sew my buttons on? " The noble, sweet, are at thy feet, To meet a freezing eye; The gay, the great, in camp and state. In vain around thee sigh. * " Wilt thou love me then as now? " and " I will love thee then as now were ' wo popular songs in 1849 446 PAKODIES AND BURLESQUES. Tliou turn'st away, in scorn of sway, To bless a younger son — But when we live in lodgings, say, Wnt sew his buttons on ?" " Yes, I will sew thy buttons on, The ugh all look dark and drear; And scant, they say, Ueutenant's pay, Two hundred pounds a year. Let How'll and James tempt wealthier damea, Of gauds and gems I '11 none ; Nor ask to roam, but sit at home. And sew thy buttons on ! " When ladies blush 'neath lusters* flush, And fast the waltzers fly. Though tame at tea I bide with thee. No tear shall dim my eye. When summer's close brings Chiswick shows — When all from town have gone, I '11 sit me down, nor pout nor frown, But sew thy buttons on 1" THE PAID BILL A BALLAD OF DOMESTIC ECONOMY. O FLING not this receipt away. Given by one who trusted thee ; Mistakes wiU happen every day However honest folks may be. And sad it is, love, twice to pay ; So cast not that receipt away ! Ah, yes ; if e'er, in future hours. When we this biU have all forgot. They send it in again — ^ye powers I — And swear that we have paid it ni-t — How sweet to know, on such a day We 've never cast receipts away 1 puNoa PAKODIES AND BURLESQUES. 44* PARODY FOR A REFORMED PARLIAMENT. PUNCH. The quality of bribery is deep stained ; It droppeth from a hand behind the door Into the voter's palm. It is twice dirty : It dirts both him that gives, and him that takes. 'Tis basest in the basest, and becomes Low blacldegs more than servants of the Crown. Those swindlers show the force of venal power. The attribute to trick and roguery, Whereby 'tis managed that a bad horse wins : But bribery is below their knavish " lay." It is the vilest of dishonest things ; It was the attribute to Gatton's self; And other boroughs most like Gatton show When bribery smothers conscience. Therefore, you, Whose conscience takes the fee, consider this — That in the cause of just reform, you all Should lose your franchise: we do disUke bribery; And that dislike doth cause us to object to The deeds of W. B. THE WAITER. PUNCH. I MET the waiter in his prime At a magnificent hotel ; His hair, untinged by care or time, Was oiled and brushed exceeding welL When " waiter," was the impatient cry. In accents growing stronger, He seem'd to murmur " By and by, Wait a little longer." Within a year we met once more, 'T was in another part of town — An humbler air the waiter wore, I fancied he was going down. 448 PARODIES ANU BURLESCiUKS. Still, when I shouted " Waiter, bread !" He came out rather stronger, As if he 'd say with toss of head, " Wait a little longer." Time takes us on through many a grade ; Of " ups and downs" I 've had my run, Passing full often through the shade And sometimes loitering in the sun. I and the waiter met again At a small inn at Ongar ; Still, when I call'd, 't was almost vain — He bade me wait the longer. Another time — years since the last — At eating-house I sought reUef From present care and troubles past, In a small plate of round of beef. " One beef, and taturs," was the cry, In tones than mine much stronger ; 'T was the old waiter standing by, " Waiting a httle longer." I 've marked him now for many a year ; I 've seen his coat more rusty grow ; His Unen is less bright and clear, His pohshed pumps are on the go. Torn are, alas ! his Berlin gloves — They used to be much stronger ; The waiter's whole appearance proves He can not wait much longer. 1 sometimes see the waiter still ; 'Gainst want he wages feeble strife ; He 's at the bottom of the hill, Downward has been his path through life Of " waiter, waiter," there are cries. Which louder grow and stronger ; 'Tis to old Time he now rephes, " Wait a little longer." ^flOreyty ^^^^^A/^^:^^^. PAKODIES AND BURLESQUES. 44S THE LAST APPENDIX TO "YANKEE DOODLE," PUNCH, 1851. Yankee Doodle sent to Town His goods for exhibition ; Every body ran him down, And langh'd at his position . They thought Mm all the world behind ; A goney, muff, or noodle ; Laugh on, good people — never mind — Says quiet Yankee Doodle. Chorus. — Yankee Doodle, etc. Yankee Doodle had a craft, A rather tidy clipper. And he challenged, while they laughed, The Britishers to whip her. Their whole yacht-squadron she outsped, And that on their own water ; Of all the lot she went a-head. And they came nowhere arter. Chorus. — Yankee Doodle, etc. O'er Panama there was a scheme Long taUc'd of, to pursue a Short route — which many thought a dreain-«» By Lake Nicaragua. John Bull discussed the plan on foot, With slow irresolution. While Yankee Doodle went and put It into execution. Chorus. — Yankee Doodle, etc. A steamer of the Collins line, A Yankee Doodle's notion, Has also quickest cut the brine Across the Atlantic Ocean. And British agents, no ways slow . - Her merits to discover. <50 PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. Have been and bought her — just to tow The CuNARD packets over. ChoTTis. — Yankee Doodle, etc. Your gunsmiths of their skill may crack, But that again don't mention : I guess that Colts' revolvers whack Their very first invention. By Yankee Doodle, too, you 're beat Downright in Agriculture, With his machine for reaping wheat, Chaw'd up as by a vulture. Chorus. — ^Yankee Doodle, etc. You also fancied, in your pride, Which truly is tarnation. Them British locks of yourn defied The rogues of all creation ; But Chubbs' and Bramah's Hobbs has pick'd. And you must now be view'd all As having been completely licked By glorious Yankee Doodle. Chorus. — Yankee Doodle, etc. LINES FOR MUSIC. PUNCH. Come strike me the harp with its soul-stirring twang, The drum shall reply with its hollowest bang ; Up, up in the air with the hght tamborine, And let the dull ophecleide's groan intervene ; For such is our life, lads, a chaos of sounds. Through which the gay traveler actively bounds. With the voice of the public the statesman must chime, And change the key-note, boys, exactly in time ; The lawyer will coolly his client survey, As an instrument merely whereon he can play. Then harp, drum, and cymbals together shall clang. With a loud-f ••oral lira, right tooral, bang, bang I . PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. 451 DRAMA FOR EVERY-DAY LIFE. LUDGATE HIIiL. — A MYSTERY. PUNCH. Dbamatib Peeson^ Mb. Meadows . . . . A Country Gentleman. Pkioweli, .... With a heavy heart and light fingers. , c Friends of each other. Jones ) "^ t Who will attempt the song of "B«j| Blind VocAUBT . . . . -^ the Bonny Breast Knot." The Scene represents Lvdgate Sill in the middle of the day; Pass^ engers, Omnibitses, etc., etc., passing to and fro. Meadows enters, musing. Meadows. I stand at last on Ludgate's famous hill ; I 've traversed Farringdon's frequented vale, I 've quitted Holborn's heights — the slopes of Snow, Where Skinner's sinuous street, with tortuous track, Trepans the traveler toward the field of Smith; That field, whose scents burst on the offended nose With foulest flavor, while the thrice shocked ear. Thrice shocked with bellowing blasphemy and blows, Making one compound of Satanic sound, Is stunned, in physical and moral sense. But this is Ludgate HiU — here commerce thrives ; Here, merchants carry trade to such a height That competition, bursting builders' bonds. Starts from the shop, and rushing through the roof, Unites the basement with the floors above ; Till, Uke a giant, that outgrows his strength. The whole concern, struck with abrupt collapse, In one " tremendous failure" totters down ! — 'Tis food on which philosophy may fatten. [Turns round, musing, and looks into a shop iriiidcir. Enter Prigwell, talking to himself. PrigweU. I 've made a sorry day of it thus far ; I Ve fathomed fifty pockets, all in vain ; I 've spent in omnibuses half-a-crown ; I 've ransacked forty female reticules — And nothing found — some business must be done. 152 PARODIES AND lilKLESQUES. By Jove — I 'd rather turn Lascar at once : Allow the walnut's devastating juice To track its inky course along my cheek, And stain my British brow with Indian brown. Or, failing that, I 'd rather drape myself In cheap white cotton, or gay colored chintz — Hang roung my ear the massive curtain-rmg — With strings of bold, effective glassy beads Circle my neck — and play the Brahmin Priest, To win the sympathy of passing crowds. And melt the silver in the stranger's purse. But ah ! {seeing Meadows) the land of promise looms before ine: The bulging skirts of that provincial coat Tell tales of well-filled pocket-books within. [Goes behind Meadows and empties his pocket& This is indeed a prize ! [Meadows turns suddenly roand. Your pardon, sir; Is this the way to Newgate ? Meadows. Why, indeed I scarce can say ; I 'm but a stranger here, I should not like to misdirect you. Prigivell. Thank you, I '11 find the way to Newgate by myself [Exit. Meadows {still musing). This is indeed a great Metropolis. Enter Blind Vocalist. Blind Vocalist (singing'). Hey, the bonny I (Knocks up against Meadows, who exit). Hot the bonny — (A passenger knocks up against the Blind Vocal- ist on i/te other ftide). Hey, the bonny — (A butcher's tray strikes the Blinu VooAi.iBT in the chest) — breast knot. As he continues siwjiivj " Hey, the bonny I ho, the bonny," the Blind Vooaltst encounters various collisions, and his breath being taken away by a poke or a pusn, beliieen each bar, he is carried away by the stream of passengers. Enter Brown and Jones. Meeting, they stop and shake hands most cordiaUy for several minutes. Brown. How are you, Jones ? Jones. Why, Brown, I do declare 'Tis quite an age since you and I have met. Brown. I 'm quite delighted. Jones. I'm extremely glad. [An awkward pauB(\ Brown. Well ! an(? how are you ? PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. 453 Jones. Thank you, very well ; And you, I hope are well ? Brown. Quite well, I thank you. [Another awkward pauBO. Jones. Oh I — by the way — have you seen Thomson lately ? Brown. Not very lately. (After a pause, and as if struck with a happy idea). But I met with Smith — A week ago. Jones. Oh I did you though, indeed ? And how was Smiti '' Brown. V\''hy, he seemed pretty well [Another long pause ; at the end of which both appear as U they were going to speak to each other. Jones. I beg your pardon. Smith. You were going to speak ? Jones. Oh I nothing. I was only going to say — Good morning. Smith. Oh ! and so was I. Good-day. [Both shako hands, and are going oflF in opposite directions, when Smith turns round. Jones turning round at the same time they both return and look at each other. Jones. I thought you wished to speak, by looking back. Brown. Oh no. I thought the same. Both together. Good-by ! Good-by ! [Exeunt finally ; and the conversation and the curtain drop together. PROCLIVIOR. (A slight Variation on LoNaFELLOw's " Exoelbiob.") PUNOIL The shades of night were falling fast, As tow'rd the Hay market there pass'd A youth, whose look told in a trice That his taste chose the queer device — Proclivior ! His hat, a wide-awake ; beneath He tapp'd a cane against his teeth ; His eye was bloodshot, and there rung, Midst scraps of slang, in unknown tongue, Proclivior I 454 PARODIES AND BURLESQUES' In calm first-flooi-s he saw the light Of circles cosy for the night ; !But far ahead the gas-lamps glow ; He tum'd his head, and murmur'd " Slow," Proclivior ! " Come early home," his Uncle said, " We all are early off to bed ; The family blame you far and wide ;" But loud that noisy youth replied — Proclivior I " Stay," said his Aunt, " come home to sup ; Early retire — get early up." A wink half quivered in his eye ; He answered to the old dame's sigh — ** Proclivior 1 " Mind how you meddle with that lamp ! And mind the pavement, for it's damp 1" Such was the Peeler's last good-night. A faint voice stutter'd out " All right." Proclivior ! At break of day, as far West-ward A cab roU'd o'er the highways hard, The early mover stopp'd to stare At the wild shouting of the fare — Proclivior ! And by the bailifTs faithful hound, At brealdast-time, a youth was found, Upon three chairs, with aspect nice, True to his young life's qu er device, Proclivior I Thence, on a dull and muggy day, They bore him to thp Bench away, And there for seveial months he lay. While friends speak gravely as they say — Proclivior ! PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. 455 JONES AT THE BARBER'S SHOP. PUNCH. Scene. — A Barber's SIwp. Barher's men engaged in cutting hair^ making ivigs, and other harberesque operations. Enter Jones, meeting Oily the barber. Jones. I wish my hair cut. Oily. Pray, sir, take a seat. tOn.T puts a chair for Jones, who sits. During the following dialogue OiiT coO" tinues cutting Jones's hair. Oily. We 've had much wet, sir. Jones. Very much, indeed. Oily. And yet November's early days were fine. Jones. They were. Oily. I hoped fan- weather might have lasted us Until the end. Jones. At one time — so did I. Oily. But we have had it very wet. Jones. We have. [A pause of some minates. Oily. I know not, sir, who cut your hair last time ; But this I say, sir, it was badly cut : No doubt 't was in the country. Jones. No ! in town I Oily. Indeed I I should have fancied otherwise. Jones. 'T was cut in town — and in this very room. Oily. Amazement I — ^but I now remember weU. We had an awkward, new provincial hand, A fellow from the country. Sir, he di'' More damage to my business in a week Than all my skiU can in a year repair. He must have cut your hair. Jones {looking at him). No — 't was yourself. Oily. Myself! Impossible! You must mistake. Jones. I don't mistake — 't was you that cut my hair. [A long pause, interrupted only by the clipping of the sclaaorft Oily. Your hair is very dry, sir. Jones. Oh ! indeed. Oily. Our Vegetable Extract moistens it Janes. I like it dry. 456 PARODIES AND BUKLESQUES. Oily. But, sir, the hair when dry Turns quickly gray. Jones. That color I prefer. Oily. But hair, when gray, wUl rapidly fall ofif, And baldness will ensue. Jones. I would be bald. Oily. Perhaps you mean to say you 'd like a wig. — "We 've wigs so natural they can't be told Fi' >m real hair. Jones. Deception I detfst. [Another pause ensues, during which Oily blows down Jones's neck, and relievos him from the linen wrapper in which he has been enveloped during the process of hair-cutting. Oily. We 've brushes, soaps, and scent, of every kind. Jones. I see you have. {Pays 6d.) I tliink you '11 find that right. Oily. If there is nothing I can show you, sir. Jones. No : nothing. Yet — there may be something, too. That you may show me. Oily. Name it, sir. Jones. The door. [Exit Jones. Oily {to his man). That 's a rum customer at any rate. Had I cut him as short as he cut me, How little hair upon his head would be ! But if kind friends will all our pains requite, We '11 hope for better luck another night. [Shop-bell rings and curtain falls. THE SATED ONE. [impromptu after CHRISTMAS DINNER.] PUNOH. It may not be — go maidens, go, Nor tempt me to the mistletoe ; I once could dance beneath its bough, But must not, wiU not, ran not, now I A weight — a load within I bear ; It is not madness nor despair ; But I require to be at rest. So that my burden may — digest I PARODIES A.ND BURLESQUES. 457 SAPPHICS OF THE CABSTAND* PUNCH. Friend of Self- Government. Seedy Cab-driver, wl dther art thou going ? Sad is thy fate — reduced to law and order, Local self-government yielding to the gripe of Centralization. Victim of FiTZROY I little think the M.P.s, Lording it o'er cab, 'bus, lodging-house, and grave-yard, Of the good times when every Anglo Saxon's House was his castle. Say, hapless sufferer, was it Mr. Chadwick — Underground foe to the British Constitution — Or my Lord Shaptesbury, put up Mr. Fitzroy Thus to assail you ? Was it the growth of Continental notions, Or was it the Metropolitan police-force Prompted this blow at Laissez-faire, that free and Easiest of doctrines ? Have you not read Mr. Toulmin Smith's great work on Centrahzation ? If you have n't, buy it; Meanwhile I should be glad at once to hear your View on the subject Cab-driver. View on the subjeck ? jiggered if T 've got one ; Only I wants no centrylisin', I don't — Which I suppose it's a crusher standm' sentry Hover a cabstand. Whereby if we gives e'er a word o' cheek to Parties as rides, they pulls us up like winkin' — And them there blessed beaks is down upon us Dead as an 'ammerl • See page 384. 20 458 PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. As for Mr. Toulmin Smith, can't say I knows him — But as you talks so werry like a gem'man, Perhaps you 're goin in 'ansome style to stand a Sliillin' a mUe, sir ? Friend of Self- Government. I give a shilling? I will see thee hanged first — Sixpence a mile — or drive me straight to Bow-street — Idle, ill-mannered, dissipated, dirty. Insolent rascal I JUSTICE TO SCOTLAND* [an unpublished poem by burns.] OOMMUNIOATBD BY THE EDINBUEQ 80CIETT FOB PEOMOTING CIVILIZATION Oi ENGLAND. PUNCH. MiCKLE yeuks the keckle doup, An' a' unsicker girns the graith, For wae and wae ! the crowdies loup O'er jouk an' hallan, braw an' baith. Where ance the coggie hirpled fair, And bUthesome poortith toomed the loof, There 's nae a burnie giglet rare But blaws in ilka jinking coof. The routhie bield that gars the gear Is gone where ghnt the pawky een. And aye the stound is birkin lear "WTiere sconnered yowies wheepea yestreen, The creeshie rax wi' skelpin' kaes Nae raair the howdie bicker whaii^s, Nor weanies in their wee bit claes Glour light as lammies wi' their sangs. Yet leeze me on my bonnie byke I My drappie aibhns bhnks the noo, • In this poom the Scottish words and phrases are all Iudicrou/,Iy misapplied. PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. An' leesome luve has lapt the dyke Forgatherin' just a wee bit fou. And Scotia ! while thy rantin' lunt Is mirk and moop with gowans fine, I '11 stowlins pit my unco brunt, An' cleek my duds for auld lang syne. 459 THE POETICAL COOKERY-BOOK. PUNCH. THE STEAK. AiB.— " The Sea." Of Steak— of Steak — of prime Rump Steak— A slice of half-inch thickness take, Without a blemish, soft and sound ; In weight a httle more than a pound. Who 'd cook a Stake— who 'd cook a Steak- Must a fire clear proceed to make : With the red above and the red below, In one delicious genial glow. If a coal should come, a blaze to make. Have patience ! You must n't put on your Steak. Fu-st rub — ^yes, rub — with suet fat, The gridiron's bars, then on it flat Impose the meat ; and the fire soon Will make it sing a delicious tune. And when 'tis brown'd by the genial glow, Just turn the upper side below. Both sides with brown being cover'd o'er, For a moment you broil your Steak no more, But on a hot dish let it rest, And add of butter a slice of the best ; In a minute or two the pepper-box take, And with it gently dredge your Steak. When seasoned quite, upon the fire Some further time it will requu-e ; And over and over be sure to turn Your Steak till done— nor let it burn ; 460 PARODIES AND BURLESQUES For nothing drives me half so wild As a nice Rump Steak in the cooking sjnled. I 've lived in pleasure mixed with grief, On fish and fowl, and mutton and beef; With plenty of cash, and power to range, But my Steak I never wished to change : For a Steak was always a treat to me, At breakfast, luncheon, dinner, or tea. ROASTED SUCKING-Pia. AiB — " Scots wha hae" Cooks who 'd roast a Sucking-pig, Purchase one not over big ; Coarse ones are not worth a fig ; So a young one buy. See that he is scalded well (That is done by those who sell). Therefore on that point to dwell. Were absurdity. Sage and bread, mix just enough, Salt and pepper quantum suff., And the Pig's interior stuff. With the whole combined. To a fire that 's rather high, Lay it till completely dry ; Then to every part apply Cloth, with butter lined. Dredge with flour o'er and o'er, Till the Pig will hold no more ; Then do nothing else before 'Tis for serving fit. Then scrape off the flour with care; Then a butter'd cloth prepare ; Rub it well ; then cut — not tear — Off the head of it. PA.K0D1ES AND BURLESQUES. 46 J Then take out and mix the brains With the gravy it contains ; While it on the spit remains, Cut the Pig in two. Chop the sage, and chop the bread Fine as very finest shred ; O'er it melted butter spread — Stinginess won't do. When it in the dish appears. Garnish with the jaws and ears ; And when dinner-hour nears, Ready let it be. Who can offer such a dish May dispense with fowl and fish ; And if he a guest should wish. Let him send for me 1 BEIGNET DE POMME. AiB — " Home, Sweet Home." 'Mid fritters and lollipops though we may roam, On the whole, there is nothing like Beignet de Pomme. Of flour a pound, with a glass of milk share, And a half pound of butter the mixture wiirbear. Pomme ! Pomme 1 Beignet de Pomme I Of Beignets there 's none like the Beignet de Pomme ! A Beignet de Pomme, you will work at in vain, If you stir not the mixture again and again ; Some beer, just to thin it, may into it fall ; Stir up that, with three whites of eggs, added to all. Pomme ! Pomme ! Beignet de Pomme ! Of Beignets there 's none like the Beignet de Pomme I Six apples, when peeled, you must carefully sUce, And cut out the cores — if you '11 take my advice ; Then dip them in batter, and fry till they foam. And you 'U have in six minutes your Beignet de Pomme. Pomme I Pomme ! Beignet de Pomme I Of Beignets there 's none like the Beignet di Pomme I 462 PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. CHERRY PIE. AiB — " Cherry Ripe" Cherry Pie ! Clierry Pie ! Pie ! I cry, Kentish cherries you may buy. If so be you ask me where To put the fruit, I'll answer " There I" In the dish your fruit must lie, When you make your Cherry Pie. Cherry Pie I Cherry Pie I etc. Cherry Pie I Cherry Pie ! Pie 1 I cry ; Full and fair ones mind you buy Whereabouts the crust should go, Any fool, of course will know ; In the midst a cup may He, When you make your Cherry Pie. Cherry Pie ! Cherry Pie ! etc. DEVILED BISCUIT. AiB — ^'' A Temple of Friendship." •' A NICE Devil'd Biscuit," said Jenkins enchanted, " I '11 have after dinner — the thought is divine I" The biscuit was bought, and he now only wanted — To fuEy enjoy it — a glass of good wine. He flew to the pepper, and sat down before it, And at peppering the well-butter'd biscuit he went; Then, some cheese in a paste mix'd with mustard spread o'er it And down to be griU'd to the kitchen 't was sent. " Oh! how," said the Cook, " can I this think of griUing, When common the pepper ? the whole wUl be flat. But here 's the Cayenne ; if my master is wilUng, I '11 make, if he pleases, a devil with that." So the Footman ran up with the Cook's observation To Jenkins, who gave him a terrible look : " Oh, go to the devil!" forgetting his station, Was the answer that Jenkins sent down to the Cook PARODIES AND BUELESQUES. 40& RED HERRINGS. AiB — " Meet me by Moonligbt" Meet me at breakfast alone, And then I will give you a dish Which really deserves to be known, Though it 's not the genteelest of fish. You must promise to come, for I said A splendid Red Herring I 'd buy — Nay, turn not away your proud head ; You '11 Hke it, I know, when you try. If moisture the Herring betray, Drain, till from moisture 'tis free ; Warm it through in the usual way, Then serve it for you and for me. A piece of cold butter prepare, To rub it when ready it Ues ; Egg-sauce and potatoes don't spare, And the flavor will cause you surprise. IRISH STEW. Am — " Happy Land." Irish stew, Irish stew ! Whatever else my dinner be, Once again, once again, I 'd have a dish of thee. Mutton chops, and onion slice, Let the water cover. With potatoes, fresh and nice ; Boil, but not quite over, Irish stew, Irish stew 1 Ne'er from thee, my taste will stray. i could eat Such a treat Nearly every day. La, la, la, k I 464 PARODIES AND BURLESQUKS. BARLEY BROTH. Am—" The King, God bless him /" A BASIN of Barley Broth make, make for me ; Give those who prefer it, the plain : No matter the broth, so of barley it be, If we ne'er taste a basin again. For, oh ! when three pounds of good mutton you buy, And of most of its fat dispossess it, In a stewpan uncover' d, at first, let it lie ; Then in water proceed to dress it. Hurrah I hurrah ! hurrah I In a stewpan uncover'd, at first, let it lie ; Then in water proceed to dress it What a teacup will hold — you should first have been told- Of barley you gently should boil ; The pearl-barley choose — 'tis the nicest that 's sold — AH others the mixture might spoil Of carrots and turnips, small onions, green peas (If the price of the last don't distress one), Mix plenty ; and boil altogether with these Your basin of Broth when you dress one. Hurrah I hurrah ! hurrah 1 Two hours together the articles boil ; There 's your basin of Broth, if you 'd dress one. CALF'S HEART. Am — " Maid of Alliens, ere we part." Maid of all work, as a part Of my dinner, cook a heart ; Or, since such a dish is best. Give me that, and leave the rest. Take my orders, ere I go ; Heart of calf we '11 cook thee so. Buy — to price you 're not qpnfined- Such a heart as suits your mind : Buy some suet — and enough Of the herbs required to stuff; PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. *U5 Buy some le non-peel — and, oh ! Heart of calf, we '11 fill thee so. Buy some onions — just a taste — Buy enough, but not to waste ; Buy two eggs of slender shell, Mix, and stir the mixture well ; Crumbs of bread among it throw ; Heart of calf we '11 roast thee so. Maid of all work, when 'tis done, Serve it up to me alone : Rich brown gravy round it roll, Marred by no intruding coal ; Currant jelly add — and lo 1 Heart of calf, I '11 eat thee so. THE CHRISTMAS PUDDING. AiB — " Jeannette and Jeannot." If you wish to make a pudding in which every one delights. Of a dozen new-laid eggs you must take the yolks and whites ; Beat them well up in a basin till they thoroughly combine, And shred and chop some suet particularly fine ; Take a pound of well-stoned raisins, aud a pound of currants dried, A pound of pounded sugar, and a pound of peel beside ; Stir them all well up together with a pound of wheaten flour, And let them stand and settle for a quarter of an hour ; Then tie tlie pudding in a cloth, and put it in the pot, — Some people like the water cold, and some prefer it hot ; But though I don't know which of these two methods I should praise, I know it ought to boil an hour for every pound it weighs. Oh ! if I were Queen of France, or, still better, Pope of Rome, I 'd have a Christmas pudding every day I dined at home ; And as for other puddings whatever they might be, Why those who like the nasty things should eat them all for m& 20* i(i6 PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. APPLE PIE. AiE— " All that's bright must fade." All new dishes fade — The newest oft the fleetest ; Of all the pies now made, The Apple's still the sweetest ; Cut and come again, The syrup upward springing ! While my life and taste remain, To thee my heart is clinging. Other dainties fade — The newest oft the fleetest ; But of all the pies now made, The Apple's still the sweetest Who absurdly buys Fruit not worth the baking ? Who wastes crust on pies That do not pay for making ? Better far to be An Apple Tartlet buying, Than to make one at home, and see On it there 's no relying : That all must be weigh'd, When thyself thou treatest — Still a pie home-made Is, after aU, the sweetest. Who a pie would make, First his apple slices ; Then he ought to take Some cloves — the best of spices : Grate some lemon rind. Butter add discreetly ; Then some sugar mix — but mind The pie 's not made too sweetly. Every pie that 's made With sugar, is completest ; But moderation should pervade- Too sweet is not the sweetest PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. 467 Who would tone impart, Must — if my word is trusted — A-dd to his pie of tart A glass of port — old crusted If a man of taste, He, complete to make it, In the very finest paste WiU inclose and bake it Pies have each their grade ; But, when this thou eatest, Of all that e'er were made. You 'U say 'tis best and sweetest LOBSTER SALAD, AiB. — " Blue Bonnets over the Border.' Take, take, lobsters and lettuces ; Mind that they send you the fish that you order : Take, take, a decent-sized salad bowl, One that 's sufficiently deep in the border. Cut into many a slice All of the fish that 's nice. Place in the bowl with due neatness and order : Then hard-boil'd eggs you may Add in a neat array All round the bowl, just by way of a border. Take fi-om the cellar of salt a proportion : Take from the castors both pepper and oil, With vinegar, too — but a moderate portion — Too much of acid your salad will spoil. Mix them together, You need not mind whether You blend them exactly in apple-pie order ; But when you 've stirr'd away, Mix up the whole you may — All but the eggs, which are used as a border. Take, take, plenty of seasoning ; A teaspoon of parsley that 's chopp'd in small pieces : Though, though, the point will bear reasoning, A small taste of onion the flavor increases. 408 PARODIES AND li.KLESQUES As the sauce curdle may, Should it : the process stay, Patiently do it again in due order ; For, if you chance to spoil Vinegar, eggs, and oil, Still to proceed would on lunacy border. STEWED STEAK Air.— " nod I a Heart for Falsehood Framed." Had I pound of tender Steak, I 'd use it for a stew ; And if the dish you would partake, I '11 tell you what to do. Into a stew-pan, clean and neat. Some butter should be flung : And with it stew your pound of meat, A tender piece — ^but young. And when you find the juice express'd By culinary art, To draw the gravy off, were best, And let it stand apart. Then, lady, if you 'd have a treat, Be sure you can't be wrong To put more butter to your meat. Nor let it stew too long. And when the steak is nicely done. To take it off were best ; And gently let it fry alone, Without the sauce or zest ; Then add the gravy — with of wine A spoonful in it flung ; And a shalot cut very fine — Let the shalot be young. And when the whole has been combined. More stewing 't will require ; Ten minutes will suffice — but mind, Don't have too quick a fire. PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. 469 Then serve it up — 'twill form a treat! Nor fear you 've cook'd it wrong; Gourmets in all the old 't will meet, And gourmands in the young. GREEN PEA SOUP. AiB — " The Ivy GreeiV Oh ! a splendid Soup is the true Pea Green • I for it often call ; And up it comes in a smart tureen, When I dine in my banquet hall. When a leg of mutton at home is boil'd, The liquor I always keep, And in that Hquor (before 'tis spoil'd) A peck of peas I steep. When boil'd till tender they have been, I rub through a sieve the peas so green. Though the trouble the indolent may shock, I rub with all my power ; And having return'd them to the stock, I stew them for more than an hour: Then of younger peas I take some more, The mixture to improve, Thrown in a little time before The soup from the fire I move. Then seldom a better soup is seen, Than the old familiar soup Pea Green. Since first I began my houseliold career, How many my dishes have been ! But the one that digestion never need fear, Is the simple old soup Pea Green. The giblet may tire, the gravy pall, And the turtle lose its chanii ; But the Green' Pea triumphs over them all, And does not the slightest harm. Smoking hot in a smart tureen, A rare soup is the true Pea Green 1 470 PARODIES AND BtJELESQUES. TRIFLE. Am—" The Meeting of the Waters." There's not in the wide world so tempting a sweet As that Trifle where custard and macaroons meet ; Oh ! the latest sweet tooth from my head must depart Ere the taste of that Trifle shall not win my heart. Yet it is not the sugar that 's thrown in between, Nor the peel of the lemon so candied and green ; 'Tis not the rich cream that 's whipp'd up by a miU : Oh, no ! it is something more exquisite stiH 'Tis that nice macaroons in the dish I have laid, Of which a delicious foundation is made ; And you 'U find how the last will in flavor improve, When soak'd with the wine that you pour in above. Sweet plateau of Trifle ! how great is my zest For thee, when spread o'er with the jam I love best , When the cream white of eggs — to be over thee thrown, With a whisk kept on purpose — is mingled in one ! MUTTON CHOPS. Am — " Com,e dwell with ime." Come dine with me, come dine with me, And our dish shall be, our dish shall be, A Mutton Chop from the butcher's shop — And how I cook it you shall see. The Chop I choose is not too lean ; For to cut oif the fat I mean. Then to the fire I put it down. And let it fry until 'tis brown. Come dine with me ; yes, dine with me, etc. 1 'U fry some bread cut rather fiije. To place betwixt each chop of mine ; Some spinach, or some cauhflowers, May ornament this cUsh of ours. . PARODIES AND BUKLESQUES. 471 I will not let thee once repine At having come with me to dine : 'T will be my pride to hear thee say, " I have enjoy'd my Chop, to-day." Come, dine with me ; yes, dine with me ; Dine, dine, dine, with me, etc. BARLEY WATER. Am — " On the Banks of Allan Water." For a jug of Barley Water Take a saucepan not too small ; Give it to your wife or daughter, If within your call. If her duty you have taught her, Very willing each will be To prepare some Barley Water Cheerfully for thee. For a jug of Barley Water, Half a gallon, less or more, From the filter that you bought her, Ask your wife to pour. When a saucepan you have brought her Polish'd bright as bright can be, In it empty all the water. Either you or she. For your jug of Barley Water ('Tis a drink by no means bad). Some two ounces and a quarter Of pearl barley add. When 'tis boiling, let your daughter Skim from blacks to keep it free ; Added to your Barley Water Lemon rind should be. For your jug of Barley Water (I have made it very oft). It must boil, so tell your daughter, Till the barley's soft. 472 PAEODIES AND BUKLESQUES Juice of a small lemon's quarter Add ; then sweeten all like tea ; Strain through sieve your Barley Water — 'T will delicious be. BOILED CHICKEIsr. Am— " iVbraft Creina." Le3bia hath a fowl to cook ; But, being anxious not to spoil it, Searches anxiously our book. For how to roast, and how to boil it Sweet it is to dine upon — Quite alone, when small its size is; — And, when cleverly 'tis done, Its delicacy quite surprises. Oh ! my tender pullet dear I My boUed — not roasted — tender Chicken I can wish No other dish, With thee supplied, my tender Chicken 1 Lesbia, take some water cold. And having on the fire placed it, And some butter, and be bold — When 'tis hot enough — taste it. Oh ! the Chicken meant for me Boil before the fire grows dimmer , Twenty minutes let it be In the saucepan left to simmer. Oh, my ' .nder Chicken dear I My boil'd, delicious, tender Chicken I Eub the breast (To give a zest) With lemon-juice, my tender Chicken. Lesbia hath with sauce combined Broccoli white, without a tarnish ; 'Tis hard to teU if 'tis design'd For vegetable or for jjarnisli. PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. 47M Pillow'd on a butter'd dish, My Chicken temptingly reposes, Making gourmands for it wish, Shoukl the savor reach their noses. Oh, my tender pullet dear I My boiled — not roasted — tender Chicken I Day or night, Thy meal is light, For supper, e'en, my tender Chicken. STEWED DUCK AND PEAS. AiE— " My Heart and Lute." I GIVE thee all, I can no more. Though poor the dinner be ; Stew'd Duck and Peas are all the store That I can offer thee. A Duck, whose tender breast reveals Its early youth full well ; And better still, a Pea that peels From fresh transparent shell. Though Duck and Peas may fail, alas! One's hunger to allay ; At least for luncheon they may pass. The appetite to stay. If seasoned Duck an odor bring From which one would abstain, The Peas, like fragrant breath of Spring, Set all to rights again. I give thee all my kitchen lore, Though poor the offering be ; I '11 tell thee how 'tis cook'd, before You come to dine with me : The Duck is truss'd from head to heels, Then stew'd witli butter well; And streaky bacon, which reveals A most delicious smell. 474 PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. When Duck and Bacon in a mass You in the stew-pan lay, A spoon around the vessel pass, And gently stir away : A table-spoon of flour bring, A quart of water bring, Then in it twenty onions fling. And gently stir again. A bunch of parsley, and a leaf Of ever- verdant bay, Two cloves — I make my language brief- Then add your Peas you may I And let it simmer till it sings In a delicious strain. Then take your Duck, nor let the strings For trussing it remain. The parsley fail not to remove, Also the leaf of bay ; Dish up your Duck — the sauce improve In the accustom' d way. With pepper, salt, and other things, I need not here explain : ■Lad, if the dish contentment brings, Tou '11 dine with me again. CURRY. Thkbe pounds of veal my darling girl prepares, And chops it nicely into little squares ; Five onions next prepares the little minx (The biggest are the best her Samiwel thinks). And Epping butter, nearly half a pound. And stews them in a pan unMl they 're brown' d. What 's next my dexterous little girl will do ? She pops the meat into the savory stew. With curry powder, table-spoonfulls three. And milk a pint (the richest that may be) ; PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. 475 And, when the dish has stewed for half-an-hour, A lemon's ready juice she '11 o'er it pour : Then, bless her 1 then she gives the luscious pot A very gentle boil — and serves quite hot. P. S. Beef, mutton, rabbit, if you vrish ; Lobsters, or prawns, or any kind of fish Are fit to make A curry. 'Tis, when done, A dish for emperors to feed upon. THE RAILWAY GILPIN. John Gilpin is a citizen ; For lineage of renown. The famed John Gilpin's grandson, he Abides in London town. To our John Gilpin said his dear, " Stewed up here as we 've been Since Wliitsuntide, 'tis time that we Should have a change of scene. " To-morrew is a leisure day, And we '11 by rail repair Unto the Nell at Dedmanton, And take a breath of air. " My sister takes our eldest child ; The youngest of our three Will go in arms, and so the ride Won't so expensive be." John soon replied, " I don't admire That railway, I, for one ; But you know best, my dearest dear, And so it must be done. " I, as a linen-draper bold, Will bear myself, and though 'Tis Friday by the calendar. Will risk my limbs, and go." PCNCtt 476 PARODIES AND BURLKSQUES Quoth Mistress Gilpin, " Nicely said : And then, besides, look here, We '11 go by the Excursion Train, Which makf s it still less dear." John Gilpin poked his clever wife. And slightly smiled to find That though on peril she was bent. She had a careful mind. The morning came ; a cab was sought : The proper time aUow'd To reach the station door ; but lo 1 Before it stood a crowd. For half an hour they tliere were stay'd, And when they did get in — " No train 1 a hoax 1" cried clerks, agog To swear through thick and thin. " Yaa !" went the throats ; stamp went th« neels ; Were never folks so mad, The disappointment dire beneath ; All cried " it was too bad !" John Gilpin home would fain have hied, But he must needs remain, Commanded by his willful bride. And take the usual train. 'T was long before our passengers Another train could find. When — stop ! one ticket for the fares Was lost or left behind ! " Good lack !" quoth John, " yet try it on." " 'T won't do," the Guard replies ; And bearing wife and babes on board, The train without him flies. Now see him in a second train, Behind the iron steed. Borne on, slap dash — ^for life or bones With small concern or heed. — - PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. Away went Gilpin, neck or naught, Exclaiming, " Dash my wig ! Oh, here's a game ! oh, here 's a go I A running such a rig !" A signal, hark ! — the whistle screamed — Smash! went the windows all: " An accident !" cried out each one, As loud as he could bawl. Away went Gilpin, never mind — His brain seemed spinning round ; Thought he, " This speed a kiUing pace Will prove, I '11 bet a pound t" And still, as stations they drew near, The whistle shrilly blew. And in a trice, past signal-men, The train like Ughtning flew. Thus, all through merry Killbury, Without a stop shot they ; But paused, to 'scape a second smash, At Dedmanton so gay. At Dedmanton his lovmg wife. On platform waiting, spied Her tender husband, striving much To let himself outside. " Hallo I JoHN.GiLPiN, here we are- Come out !" they all did cry ; "To death with waiting we are tired 1" ■Guard!" shouted Gilpin, "Hil" But no — the train M'as not a bit Arranged to tarry there, For why ?— because 't was an Express^ And did dispatches bear. So, in a second, off it flew Again, and dashed along. As if the deuce 't were going to, With motive impulse strong. 411 478 PARODIES AND BURLESQUES, Away went Gilpin, on the breath Of puffing steam, until They came unto their journey's end, Where they at last stood stiH And then — best thing that he could do — He book'd himself for Town ; They stopped at every station up, Till he again got down. Says Gilpin, " Sing, Long live the Queen, And eke long life to me ; And ere I '11 trust that Line again, Myself I blest wiU see I" ELEGY, written in a railway station. PUNOH. The Station clock proclaims the close of day ; The hard- worked clerks drop gladly off to tea ; The last train starts upon its dangerous way, And leaves the place to darkness and to me. Now fades the panting engine's red tail-light, And all the platform solemn stillness holds, Save where the watchmen, pacing for the night. By smothered coughs announce their several colds. Behind that door of three-inch planking made, Those frosted panes placed too high up to peep. All in their iron safes securely laid, The cooked account-books of the Railway sleep. The Debts to credit side so neatly borne, ^Vhat should be losses, profits proved instead ; The Dividends those pages that adorn No more shall turn the fond Shareholder's head. Oft did the doubtful to their balance yield, Their evidence arithmetic could choke : How jocund were they that to them appealed ! How many votes of thanks did they provoke I PARODIES AND BURLESQUES. 479 Let not Derision mock King Hudson's toil, Who made things pleasant greenhorns to allure ; Nor prudery give hard names unto the spoil 'T was glad to share — while it could share secure. AU know the way that he his fortune made, How he bought votes and consciences did hire ; How hands that Gold auL Silver-sticks have swayed To grasp his dirty palm would oft aspire, Till these accounts at last their doctored page, Thanks to mischance and panic, did unroll, When virtue suddenly became the rage, And wiped George Hudson out of fashion's scrolL Full many a noble Lord who once serene The feasts at Albert Gate was glad to share, For tricks he blushed not at, or blushed unseen. Now cuts the Iron King with vacant stare. For those who, mindful of their money fled. Rejoice m retribution, sure though late — Should they, by ruin to reflection led. Ask Punch to point the moral of his fate, Haply that wooden-headed sage may say, "Oft have I seen him, in his fortune's dawn. When at his levees elbowing their way, Peer's ermine might be seen and Bishop's lawn. " There the great man vouchsafed in turn to each Advice, what scrip or shares 't was best to buy, There his own arts his favorites he would teach, And put them up to good things on the sly. " Till to the House by his admirers borne. Warmed with Champagne in flustered speech he strove, And on through commerce, colonies, and corn, Like engine, without break or driver, drove. " Till when he ceased to dip in fortune's till, Out came one cooked account — of our M. P. ; Another came — yet men scarce ventured, still, T-< Kl'ink their idol such a rogue could be. 480 PARODIES AND BUELESQUES. " Until those figures set in sad array Proved how his victims he had fleeced and shore— Approach and read (if thou canst read) my lay, Writ on him more in sadness than in scorn." THE EPITAPH. flere lies, the gilt rubbed off his sordid earth, A man whom Fortune made to Fashion known ; Though void aUke of breeding, parts, or birth, God Mammon early marked him for his own. Large was his fortune, but he bought it dear ; When he won foully he did freely spend. He plundered no one knows how much a-year, But Chancery o'ertook him in the end. No further seek his frailties to disclose : For many of his sins should share the load : While he kept rising, who asked how he rose ? While we could reap, what cared we how he sowed? THE BOA AND THE BLANKET.* AN APOLOGUE OF THE ZOOLOGICAL GARDENS. [aFTER WARREN.] PUNCH. It is talked of Now I Was talked of Testerday I May be muttered to-morrow I What ? — The Boa that Bolted the Blanket, Speckled Enthusiast 1 It was full moon's full moonlight I The Sliilling I had paid down at the Gate Seera'd hung in Heaven. To Newton's Eye (As Master of the Mint). A Splendid, yea. Celestial Shilling 1 [ was alone, with Nothing to Speak of But Creation ! • A few days before this burlesque of Warren appeared, a boa-constrictor In the TA>ndon Zoological Gardens swallowed the blanket that had served as its bed. PARODIES AND BUllLESQUES. 481 Yes ! Grigantic Noah's Ark of twenty times her tonnage, Lay crouch'd, and purring, and velvety, and fanged About me ! Cane-colored tigers — rug-spotted Leopards — Snakes (ah, Cupid I) knit and interknit — to true love knots Semblable ! Striped Zebra — Onager Calcitrant — Common Ass, And I — and all were there I The bushy Squirrel with his half-cracked Nut, Slept. The Boar of Allemagne snored. The Lion's Cage was hot with heat of blood : And Peace in Curtain Ring linked two Ring Doves I In Gardens Zoological and Regent, I, meditating, stood ! And still the moon looked won