t175 
 
 J«s:-J';CJ;:>^?!sS?SJJ5S 
 
 S E L EiSJil O N 
 
 
 
 FREDERh 
 
 
 fc 

 
 THE LIBRARY 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 SELECTIONS 
 
 BY 
 
 FKEDERICK BAENE. 
 
 TO 
 
 Mailer fitilc 6ilOT0UT, (B^., 
 
 Whose name calls up the recollection of many liappy 
 
 days passed in the Hunting Field, this Collection 
 
 of Poems is (by permission) dedicated, by 
 
 Frederick Barne. 
 
 S-eamtngton : 
 
 COURIER " STEAM PRINTING WORKS, CHURCn WALK.
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 The compiler has caused these songs, short poems, 
 and epigrams to be printed partly to make presents to 
 his friends, and partly because he thinks some of them 
 are too good to be swallowed up in oblivion. 
 
 The translation of " The Achilles' Shield," by a 
 great statesman, breathes the very spirit of Homer, and 
 shews that that distinguished man might have been one 
 of England's best poets. 
 
 The Bishop of Lincoln's letter is a specimen of 
 Christian feeling and of classical Latin. 
 
 Some of the epigrams are touching. The letter of 
 a Master of Arts to the compiler, in which he threatens 
 him with castigation, and lets him off so easily, is 
 evidently the production of a good scholar and a gentle- 
 man ; the compiler would have thanked him had he 
 been able to discover his name.
 
 WIS 
 
 RABY HUNT. 
 
 (Written hy the Hon. M. IlawJce, abotit 1804^ 
 
 Whilst passing o'er Barnsdale I liaj^pened to spy, 
 
 A fox stealing" on and the hounds in full cry ; 
 They are Darlington's sure, for his voice I well 
 know, 
 Crying forward, hark forward, from Skelbrook 
 below. 
 See Binchester leads them, whose speed seldom 
 fails. 
 And now let us see who can tread on their tails ; 
 For like pigeons in flight, the best hunters 
 must blow. 
 Should their masters attempt to ride over them 
 now. 
 From Howell wood come they to Stapleton go, 
 What confusion I sec in the valley below ; 
 
 d^^e'^^!■^^B '/. ~> C
 
 4 
 
 My friends in black collars nearly beat out of 
 sight, 
 And Badswortli's old heroes in terrible plight. 
 'T would be hard to describe all the frolic and fun, 
 That of course must occur in this capital run ; 
 But I quote the old proverb, liowe'er trite and 
 tame, 
 That the looker-on sees most by half of the 
 game. 
 Then first in the burst, and dashing away, 
 
 Taking all in his stroke on Ralplio, the grey ; 
 With Persuaders in flank, comes Darlington's 
 peer. 
 With his chin sticking out, and his cap on one 
 ear. 
 Never heeding a scramble, a scratch or a fall. 
 Lying close in his quarters comes Scott, of 
 Wood Hall ; 
 And mark how he cheers them, with hark to the 
 
 cry, 
 While on him the peer keeps a pretty sharp eye. 
 And next him on Morgan, all rattle and talk, 
 Cramming over the fences comes wild Master 
 Hawke ; 
 But his neck he must break, either sooner or late. 
 For he'd sooner ride over than open a gate.
 
 5 
 
 Then there's dashing Frank Boynton, who rides 
 thorough-breds, 
 With their carcases nearly as small as their 
 heads ; 
 But he rides so d — d hard, that it makes my 
 
 heart ache, 
 For fear his long legs should be left on a stake. 
 But lately returned from democrat France, 
 
 AYliere forgetting to bet, he's been learning to 
 dance, 
 Behold Harry Mellish, as wild as the wind, 
 
 On Lancaster mounted, leaving numbers behind. 
 That eagle-eyed sportsman, Charles Brandling, 
 behold, 
 Riding in a snug place that need scarcely bo 
 told ; 
 But from riding so hard, my dear Charley, forbear, 
 For fear you should tire your thirty pound 
 mare. 
 And close at his heels, see Bob Lascelle's advance, 
 Dressed as gay for the field as if leading the 
 dance, 
 Resolved to ride hard, nor be counted the last, 
 
 Secure the speed of his favourite. Outcast. 
 Next mounted on Pancake, see yonder comes Len, 
 A sportsman, I am sure, well deserving my pen ;
 
 6 
 
 He looks in liigli glee, and enjoying the fun, 
 Tliougli truly, I fear, his cake's overdone. 
 On Methodist, perched in a very good station, 
 Frank Barlovv^, behold that firm prop of the 
 nation ; 
 But nothing could greater offend the good soul. 
 Than to Coventry sent from the chase or the 
 bowl. 
 Then those two little fellows, as light as a feather, 
 Charles Parker and Clewes come racing 
 together ; 
 And riding behind comes Oliver Dick, 
 
 On Slapdash half blown looking out for a 
 niche. 
 On Ebony mounted, behold my Lord Barnard, 
 
 Yv^ho to live near the pack now obliged is to 
 strain hard ; 
 But mount my friend Barney, on something 
 that's quick, 
 And I Y/arrant, my friends, he'll show you the 
 trick. 
 Then Bland and Tom Gascoigne, I spy in tlie van, 
 Riding hard as two devils, who catch as 
 catch can ; 
 But racing along to see who can get first, 
 Already, I see, both their horses are burst.
 
 7 
 Then smack at a yaAvner fiiils my friend, Billy 
 Cloug-li, 
 He gets up, stares aromid liim, faitii silly 
 enough ; 
 While Pelkington, near him, cries — '' Prithee get 
 bled," 
 '^ Ah, no, never mind, sir, I fell on my head." 
 But where' s that hard rider, my friend, Colonel 
 Bell ? 
 At the first setting out of the cover he fell ; 
 But I see the old Crop through the whole chase 
 will carry. 
 In respectable style, the good tempered Harry. 
 
 Far aloof to the right, and opening a gate, 
 
 There's a sportsman, by system, who never 
 rides straight ; 
 But why, my good Godfrey, so far will you roam, 
 When a pack of good beagles hunt close to 
 your home. 
 Now all having passed, we to Ferrybridge go, 
 Each event of the day at the club we shall 
 know. 
 Where bright bumpers of claret enliven the night, 
 
 And drive far away hatred, envy, and spite. 
 Come, I'll give you a toast, and a bumper of 
 wine —
 
 8 
 
 " Here's a health to our chief, and our sport so 
 divine, 
 And the hounds of Okl Eaby for me." 
 
 ANSWER. 
 
 Comment upon Bromley DavenjoorV s (M.P.) Verses. 
 
 In years you're a veteran, I fear it is truth, 
 Tho' sportsmen much older still deem you a 
 youth ; 
 But lately I've seen you, when hounds went the 
 pace. 
 Shew the field that your heart is still in the 
 right place. 
 And when you've charged fences, both awkward 
 and blind. 
 Old days with Lord Stamford recurred 
 to my mind ; 
 When from Cassington Gorse, or Barkby's famed 
 cover, 
 Whether timber or brook, you were sure to be 
 over. 
 But still whilst recalling our sport so divine, 
 I mix blame with my praise, as water with 
 wine ;
 
 9 
 
 You must own, my old friend, that I speak 
 within bounds, 
 When I say that you sometimes rode over the 
 hounds. 
 Poor Sutton exclaimed (he was given to chiding), 
 There's * * again the hounds over-riding ; 
 His hand is first-rate, still I wish in some flood 
 He would fall, and thus cool his impetuous 
 blood. 
 But enough of the chase, your last verse I admire, 
 
 It sparkles with wit, nor is wanting in fire ; 
 But I really must say to unburden my mind. 
 That you are rather too much to repining 
 inclined. 
 You've a noble estate, you're wdth pedigree 
 graced, 
 In Parliament, too, you now hold a good place ; 
 Where you speak wdth success, for it ne'er was 
 denied. 
 That poet and orator are nearly allied. 
 I'm sure you'll run straight, determined, in sooth. 
 Not a hair's breadth to swerve from honour 
 and truth ; 
 But my Pegasus droops, my muse has expired, 
 I'm afraid with my verso you arc terribly tired,
 
 10 
 
 So I end with a wisli, to wliicli no one can say 
 ''No," 
 May you long hold '' Mens sana in corpore 
 sano." 
 
 OLD MELTOX SOXG OF 50 YEARS AGO. 
 
 fWriitcn hij Mr. R, Enq^son, about 1820.^ 
 
 Farewell to the land where the foxes are flyers, 
 And the fences are bigger than anywhere else ; 
 
 Where none values his neck, and if his horse 
 tires, 
 Compounds for the animal, not for himself. 
 
 Where the speed of each horse, and his fencing is 
 
 noted, 
 And the pride of each rural top-sawyer denied ; 
 Where the system is humbug, and a man who ne'er 
 
 quoted 
 A sentence worth noting, sells a horse to a friend.
 
 11 
 
 Farewell to that town, for its steeple so famous, 
 
 AVliere eating and drinking and frolic abound ; 
 Where club houses flourish, and strumpets 
 notorious, 
 And gamesters and horse-dealers pass the joke 
 round. 
 Yet here where the Queen of the Chase oft reposes, 
 And Venus and Bacchus preside o'er the scene ; 
 The Epicure sighs, tho' his brow's bound with 
 roses. 
 And is stung by disease, and infested by spleen. 
 Let Molyneux backbite the friends whom he 
 flatters, 
 Let Standish persuade him the cause* will 
 succeed ; 
 Let them both talk of horses, of Church and State 
 matters. 
 And think they're top-sawyers in practice and 
 creed. 
 Let Willesly ride horses at others' expense, 
 
 Treat his wife like a brute, and behave like a 
 fool ; 
 Convince us that money don't always give sense, 
 And that marriage don't always keep profligates 
 cool. 
 
 ■^" Tlic Catholic Question.
 
 12 
 
 Let Malicr soil his horses at handicap auction, 
 
 Eido well on a good one, and hard on a screw ; 
 Swear that Catliolics only, unlike our persuasion, 
 Arc sincere in their creed, and their horse- 
 dealing too. 
 Let Campbell persuade us the Scotch are a nation, 
 As kind as they're honest, as rich as they're 
 brave ; 
 Who drink whiskey in pailsful, and ride like 
 damnation. 
 With himself at their head and what more 
 would you have. 
 Let White, half a dandy, for fear of a failure. 
 Drink no wine at dinner, on purpose to bet ; 
 
 Vote Lord Brudenell a sportsman, Osbaldistone a 
 tailor. 
 And sneer at Cave Brown and his rascally set. 
 Let Mackenzie smile on while Maxse rehearses 
 
 Some joke upon Ritson, and Dollen talks small ; 
 
 Empson laughs at the follies of those he caresses, 
 
 And recounts, in bad stanzas, the humours of 
 
 all. 
 
 But far from these scenes, their follies and 
 
 pleasures, 
 
 I wander unheeded, and smile on such friends ;
 
 IS 
 
 Wliile my liarp tuned to sadness resounds to the 
 
 measures, 
 
 Wliicli remembrance prompts, and wliich 
 sympathy lends. 
 My childhood was wayward, my youth 
 uncontrolled, 
 And I've tasted each pleasure the world ever 
 gave ; 
 But my heart almost bursts when I carry abroad. 
 
 The feelings I fondly cherished at home. 
 My heart is for one, and my passion, and feeling 
 
 Are strong and by far beyond other's belief. 
 Like the sound of the curfew which o'er the heath 
 stealing, 
 Tells the wanderer all are at rest but himself. 
 Farewell, my dear girl, take my vows e're I go, 
 The distance though great will but lengthen 
 the chain ; 
 Other climes yield fresh beauties, but t'is but to 
 know. 
 Other climes, other beauties, ca'nt lessen mj 
 pain. 

 
 THE RIGHT HOX. W. E. GLADSTONE'S 
 
 TRANSLATION OF II0:MER'S DESCRIPTION 
 
 OF THE SHIELD OF ACHILLES. 
 
 First of all, tlie sliield lie moulded, 
 
 Broad and strong, and wrought throughout, 
 
 AVith a bright and starry border. 
 
 Three fold thick, and round about. 
 
 Downward hung the belt of silver, 
 
 Five the layers of the shield. 
 
 And with skilful mind he sculptured 
 
 Rare devices o'er its field. 
 
 There he wrought earth, sea, and heaven, 
 
 There he set the unwearying sun ; 
 
 And the waxing moon and stars that 
 
 Crown the blue vault every one. 
 
 feh5iads, Hyads, strong Orion, 
 
 Arctos, ISy^ht, to boot the Wain, 
 
 He upon Orion waiting, 
 
 He alone of all the train ; 
 
 Spanning still the baths of ocean,
 
 15 
 
 AVheels and wheels his round again.. 
 Then he carved two goodly cities, 
 Thick with swarms of speaking men ; 
 "Weddings were in one, and banquets, 
 Torches blazing overhead. 
 Nuptial hymns, and from their chamber, 
 Brides about the city led ; 
 Here to harp and pipe resounding. 
 Young men wildly whirling danced. 
 While the women, each one standing 
 By their porches, stand entranced. 
 Then a dance the mighty master. 
 In the broidered metal wrought ; 
 Such to rich haired Ariadne, 
 Dsedalus in Gnossus brought, 
 Spacious Gnossus, youths and maidens, 
 Maidens grown of age to wed. 
 Hand on wrist, and one with other. 
 Thro' the mazes lightly sped : 
 These are robed in rarest muslin. 
 Those fine woven tunics wear, 
 Soft with glaze of oil and glist'ning. 
 These are crowned with garlands fair. 
 Those their golden poignards hanging 
 From tlicir belts of silver l)Gar.
 
 16 
 
 Now with trained feet careering, 
 All tlie troop in circle flies, 
 Like tlio potter's wlieel, and gearing, 
 Which for speed he sets and tries. 
 Now each rank in backward movement, 
 On the rank behind them fall. 
 Charmed with these bewitching dancers. 
 Throngs a surging crowd. 'Mid all. 
 Harps and sings the sacred minstrel, 
 Ever as his notes begin. 
 Tumblers twain are wildly whirling, 
 Round the open ring within. 
 Ocean's might, resistless river, 
 Last of all his labours sealed, 
 Eolling round the outmost border 
 Of the deftly fashioned shield.
 
 VIATOR ANfiNTMOS. 
 
 Viro doctissimo Frederico Barne. 
 
 S. P. D. 
 
 Exordio te nimium amaro indulsurum sj^cro. 
 Presbyteri, de quo agitur, familiaritate nunqiiam 
 "usus sum. Ne vidi quidem. Qua probitate sit, 
 qua fortuna, hoc tantum forte accepi. Vale, et 
 cura ut valeas. Dabam apud Londinium, ficto 
 nomine Rev. M. A. 0., 430, Oxford St., a. d. v. 
 Id. September. 
 
 Ah ! quam beati Barnius (ut vocant), 
 Ruris colonus, seu dominus potens 
 Audire mavult ! quam beati, 
 Et domino meliore digni ! 
 Decemplicatas *colligit aureas 
 Bis mille libras liic, quoties equos 
 Sol flectit in cursus priores, 
 Et celercm reparavit annum. 
 
 + The worthy author is mistalcen in this.
 
 18 
 
 Qiiferisne culpas ? non ego dixcro 
 Claiisisse duras pauperibiis fores ; 
 Non jura temnit ; non egentes 
 Opj^rimit agricolas ; sed aequo 
 Exercet omnes imperio favens 
 Rectis honestus moribus ; et licet 
 Vulgus reformidet profanum 
 Conciliat proprios amicos ; 
 •j* '' Insanientis nee sapientise 
 Consultus errat " ; sed bene temperans 
 Dilecta priscorum virorum 
 
 Scripta novis, animum gubernat. 
 Talis quid ergo dotibus ingeni 
 Desideratur ? Fas milii sit, precor, 
 Narrare paucis, nee molesta 
 Immerito nocuisse lingua. 
 Quis liuc caballum ridicule macrum, 
 Parum decoro pulvere sordidus, 
 Vestes retergens obsoletas. 
 Ore tamen reverendus, urget ? 
 Attentus sedes Presbyterus sacras 
 Curat propinquas ; " vir peramabilis 
 Non ille libris bis viginti 
 
 \ " Parens Deorum ciiltor et infrequens insanientis diim 
 sapientife consultus erro." — Horace, Ode 34, line 2, book 1.
 
 19 
 
 Dives." At huic ita negligent! 
 
 Casus propinqui quis veuiam dabit ? 
 
 Quicumque, opinor, conscius est sui 
 
 EiToris. Ipsum seel decebit 
 
 Officio properare fungi. 
 
 Carj)ens acervi particulam sui 
 
 Dextm, " sinistra," si placet, '' inscia, " 
 
 Mittet ; nee optabit benignus 
 
 Prsemia, nee meritis carebit. 
 
 M. A. 0. 
 
 AXONYMOUS. 
 
 (Translation of the above.) 
 My friend I send you lience a bitter pill, 
 In kindness meant, so do not take it ill. 
 The priest for whom I now your bounty claim, 
 I only know by sight and scarce by name. 
 Farewell, and health the greatest good poor 
 
 mortals gain, 
 By woodland sports, and temperance attain. 
 Barne is a farmer, or a better word 
 To use, of Manors broad, a potent Lord. 
 His eastern boundary old Ocean laves, 
 Wliose voice comes gently up from slowly moving 
 
 waves ;
 
 20 
 
 Old trees and waving; woods liis lands adorn, 
 And rich the land, if purple heath were corn. 
 Numerous and rich his tenants ; and I deem, 
 With ruddy gold his ample coffers teem. 
 Now for his faults ; true, he ne'er closed his door 
 In churlish mood to strangers and the poor. 
 He never broke the laws, nor with hard hand, 
 Has he oppressed the tillers of the land. 
 Firmness and mildness in his rule he blends. 
 And though he hates the vulgar, yet his friends 
 He kindly entertains ; the illustrious dead 
 Authors are studied, and the modern too are read. 
 Who is this horseman clad in old attire. 
 Covered with dust and sometimes stained with mire. 
 Whose meagre steed unconscious seems of corn, 
 His rider seems yet not ignobly born ! 
 Barne has a Curate ; by devotion led 
 With ardent zeal his Master's steps to tread : 
 And yet this priest, to all the poor so dear, 
 " Is passing rich on £40 a year." 
 Let Barne at once this sad omission mend. 
 Quick to his Curate's wants at once attend ; 
 And when he gives relief to age or woe, 
 What one hand gives let not the other know ; 
 And let him ponder o'er our Saviour's word. 
 Who giveth to the poor but lendeth to the Lord.
 
 Egrecjio Prwsidi C Cornello ad Consilium veterum 
 
 CathoUcorum Constantlce habendum henevole invitanti 
 
 S.P.B. Chris to j) hones Wordsworth, Episcopus 
 
 Lincolniensis. 
 
 Accipio Isetus fraterni pignus anions, 
 
 Et gratse mentis mutua dona fero ; 
 
 Atque utinam nobis vos compellare licerct, 
 
 Et nos consiliis consociare tuis ! 
 
 Sed nos ire vetant stringcntes undique curse, 
 
 Et gravat officii Pontificalis onus, 
 
 Spiritus at liber ponti cito transvolat undas 
 
 Et miscet precibus fervida vota tuis. 
 
 Inclyta qua toUit veteres Constantia turres. 
 
 Jam video doctum se glomerare cliorum : 
 
 Agnosco prsesens in te Constantia numen : 
 
 Consilium Nemesis convocat ipsa tuuni. 
 
 Tu famosa nimis Synoda Constantia sseva, 
 
 Nunc es concilio nobilitanda pio ; 
 
 Martyrum ubi quondam maduit tua sanguine 
 
 tellus, 
 Nunc seges albcscit messis Apostlicai.
 
 22 
 
 Ecc8 novo cineres llussi falgore coruscaut, 
 Fitque Evangelii fax pigra Marty rii ; 
 Pragensis video venGraudam surgere formam, 
 Teque in concilio vivida verba loqui. 
 Oil utinam talis fidei nos excitet ardor, 
 Accendatque sui flaminis igne Deus 
 Turn quisnam tremeret, qiiis non audere paratus 
 Pro Cruce cuncta foret, pro Criicc cuncta pati. 
 Nos omnes utinam pascamur Corpore Christi, 
 Nos omnes recreat sanguinis ille calix, 
 Una Fides, unus Cln-istus, nos Spiritus unus, 
 Unus in unanimo jungat amore Pater. 
 Sic ubi transierint mortalis soecula Coeli, 
 Nos una accipiat, non peritura, Domus ! 
 HoBC tibi concordi reddit Lincolnia mente, 
 Concilio spcrans omnia Fausta tuo.
 
 AN IMAGIXAP.Y SKETCH. 
 
 The morn was cloudy, and the wind was still, 
 The grey mist clung to Borough's shaggy hill, 
 Where mighty Rome, victorious o'er the world, 
 In days of yore her eagle wings unfurled. 
 Where Little Dalby's steeple cleaves the air, 
 A throng of dames and cavaliers repair ; 
 With graceful bend, and with sarcastic glance, 
 Yet courteous mien, a liorseman see advance. 
 And close at hand, a genial sportsman shines, 
 Dispenser of rich soups and generous wines ; 
 His daughters view, of whom it may be said. 
 They neither shirk a fence, nor timber dread. 
 A noble Lord, with jet black eye survey. 
 With dauntless heart, well skilled to lead the 
 
 way; 
 A lady follows, slight, and fair of face, 
 Whose light hand guides her steed witli matchless 
 
 grace. 
 A courtly form close by, with pliant art,
 
 S4 
 
 Can wield the rein, or acting touch the heart. 
 Assist me, Muse, in worthy strains to sing, 
 A Scot, of gentle hearts the undoubted king, 
 Eager a disabled wight with care to tend, 
 Who never feelings hurt, or lost a friend. 
 A sturdy Briton of full sixteen stone, 
 Each friend salutes ; large both of chest and bone. 
 Bestrides his steed, like old King Harry, bluff, 
 A kindly spirit, but a diamond rough. 
 From frozen Russia's plains a veteran bold, 
 Quaffs sparkling sherry, and defies the cold. 
 Leicester's broad farms sent forth her yeomen too. 
 Old England's honest pride, a hardy crew. 
 A feather weight, 'tis said of Cambrian race. 
 On high-bred horse, burning to join the chase, 
 I cannot overpass. Keen sportsmen all. 
 Who charge a brook, and do not fear a fall. 
 Hail, gallant band, I give you honour due, 
 Of Britain's ancient sport the patrons true ; 
 Yet with my praise I will some counsel join. 
 Press not the hound, spoil not the sport divine : 
 Huntsmen their cast to make, some room require, 
 Then curb your eager steeds, restrain your fire. 
 So shall, o'er Leicester's plains the racing pack. 
 With speed unfailing, Reynard's footsteps track.
 
 A HiOlPSHIRE HUXTIXG SOXG. 
 
 (^Written hj the Rev. PauIet.J 
 
 Now from care, from pain, from sorrow, 
 Haste to Tliornydown to-morrow ; 
 
 There shall om^ steeds outstrip the wind, 
 While time and age creep far behind. 
 
 No vigils long of love we keep. 
 
 No evening cares prevent our sleep : 
 
 Soon as the sun has reached the skies, 
 Fresh as the morn we gaily rise. 
 
 Then free from care, etc. 
 
 Hills and dales with music sounding, 
 Every heart with joy rebounding ; 
 
 What transports in our bosom glow. 
 When first we hear the Tally-ho.
 
 26 
 
 Bridegroom and Batclielor lead them on, 
 Soon they give way to Turpin's son ; 
 
 See to tlie head young Herald strives, 
 Old Wyndham roars, and Wilful drives. 
 
 Then free from care, etc. 
 
 Checked by slieepcots in tlie valley. 
 
 Men of weight gain time to rally ; 
 ]\Iopping his front and double chin, 
 
 Eacli heavy blue comes puffing in. 
 Juniper strikes liim down the way, 
 
 Magpies and crows his point betray ; 
 O'er the wet meads and chalky soil, 
 
 The villain runs his tainted foil. 
 
 Then free from care, etc. 
 
 Distressed at length he seeks the village. 
 
 Where of late he roamed to pillage ; 
 'Midst his old haunts he finds no friend, 
 
 Whoo-oop whoo-oop proclaims his end. 
 My rhymes are done, once more excuse 
 
 Your ancient Laureate's limping muse ; 
 And in Diana's joyous court, 
 
 Drink in full cups the noble sport. 
 
 Then free from care, etc.
 
 TO TORQUATUS. 
 
 Translation hij the Rev. T. Barne, Rector of Sot terleij, 
 and Chaplain to George IV. and Willi'im IV. 
 
 Diffugcro nivcs, rcdeimt jam gramina campis. 
 
 The snows are fled, the grass once more is seen, 
 The trees resmne their livery of green ; 
 All nature's face is changed ; the rivers flow, 
 Within their banks, decreasing as they go. 
 Her sister Graces, and the nymphs among, 
 Unveiled Aglaia leads the dance along ; 
 In times' unvarying lapse, my friend, we see. 
 An awful warning of mortalit}^. 
 Rough Boreas yields to gentle Zephyr's sway, 
 7^ So spring succeeds bright summer's ardent ray ; 
 
 And soon, when autumn has dispersed his grain, 
 Chill winter will benumb the earth again.
 
 28 
 
 Quick circling moons tlie season's thus restore, 
 But soon, wliere chiefs renowned have gone 
 
 before. 
 To Pluto's dreary mansions we repair, 
 With dust to mingle, or dissolve in air. 
 Who dares among th^sins of man, to say, 
 That heaven will gimiMiinT yet another day. 
 Be wisely liberal tlien^ since what we spend, 
 From greedy heirs at least we shall defend. 
 When in the silent tomb thou low art laid. 
 And Minos hast thy sentence duly weighed. 
 Nor honied eloquence, nor noble birth, 
 Nor pious deeds will bring thee back to earth, 
 Nor great Diana from Tartarean night. 
 Could call the chaste Hippolytus to light : 
 And Godlike Theseus, from Black Lethe's chain, 
 To free Pirithous essayed in vain.
 
 WHO CAX TELL? 
 
 (Lines written at Donning, re the tate Lord Hastings' 
 
 habit of delay. 
 
 " The Quorn will meet at Great Dalb}^, Jan. 17, antl 
 Barkby, Jan. 18." 
 
 When will the Marquis come ? 
 
 Who can tell ? 
 Half-past twelve, or half-past one, 
 
 Who can tell ? 
 Driving at an awful rate, 
 As if afraid that he is late, 
 What cares he how long we wait. 
 
 Who can tell ? 
 Shall we have to wait again ? 
 
 Who can tell ? 
 In the wind and in the rain, 
 
 Who can tell ?
 
 80 
 
 Whilst the Marquis, snug and warm, 
 111 the hall, where toadies swarm, 
 Leaves us to the pelting storm. 
 
 Who can tell ? 
 Where will he draw by way of lark ? 
 
 Who can tell ? 
 Gartree Hill, or Bradgate Park, 
 
 Who can tell ? 
 Sport regarding as a jest, 
 North, or South, or East, or West, 
 Which will suit his fancy best, 
 
 Who can tell ? 
 Where, oh where, rings Tailby'shorn? 
 
 Who can tell ? 
 Why came I with this cursed Quorn ? 
 
 Who can tell ? 
 Marquis, this is not a race, 
 Can you look us in the face. 
 And declare you like the cliase^ 
 
 Who can tell ? 
 
 w^ 

 
 A NURSERY RHYME. 
 
 '' Who scratclied the Earl ? " 
 
 '' I," said his master ; 
 '^ Flash Bet could go faster, 
 
 I scratched the Earl." 
 " Who wrote the order ? " 
 
 <' I," said Harry Hill ; 
 " With my little quill, 
 
 I wrote the order." 
 '' Who planned the swindle ? " 
 
 " I," said the spider ; 
 '' As my w^eb grew wider, 
 
 I planned the swindle." 
 " Who laid against him ? " 
 
 '' We," said the rooks ; 
 '' In our little books, 
 
 We laid against him." 
 " Who gave the office ? " 
 
 As was expected. 
 None recollected, 
 Wlio gave the office. 
 
 7?
 
 32 
 
 "Who cauglit the milk ? " 
 
 "I," said the whale ; 
 '' In my little pail," 
 
 I cauglit the milk." 
 '' AVho shared the spoil ? " 
 
 " We," said the stable; 
 " As best we were able, 
 
 We shared the sj^oil." 
 " Who was the victim ? " 
 
 " I," said John Day ; 
 In his quiet way, 
 
 " I was the victim."
 
 EPSOM RACES -BY A FREXCH LADY. 
 
 Dans la foule de ces ladies si minces, 
 Au milieu de ces Dandies si blonds, 
 
 J'ai vu parier avec des Princes, 
 
 Des marcliands de carottes et d'oignons. 
 
 Je jetai un oeillade dans ce pell mell, 
 Au Due de C, ce vieux farceur, 
 
 Et puis dans une caleche fort belle, 
 J'ai apercu mon degraisseur. 
 
 J'ai vu un tas de nice cocottes, 
 Ebourrifantes de mauvais gout ; 
 
 J'ai vu ma blanchisseuse Charlotte, 
 Son baby I'embarassait beaucoup. 
 
 J'ai vu des chevaux j'ai vu des anes 
 Le Roi des Beiges, des ]\[agistrats ; 
 
 Des nez tout rouges, des noirs soutanes, 
 Et des John Bull tout gros, et gras.
 
 34 
 
 Un monde entlcr de Clcrc's, de jupcs, 
 
 De Costermongers et de Chiens ; 
 Faisant de la police une dupe, 
 
 Et du porter, du brandy — un bain. 
 
 Voila ma cliere, cette grande fete, 
 
 Durant laquclle ces Saxons si serieux ; 
 
 Se font un dieu d'une pauvre bete, 
 
 Se bourrent de viandes froides, et se grisent 
 comme des gueux.
 
 36 
 
 A Petition for the i^lace of Soup Distributor during an 
 Irish famine some 15 ijears since. 
 
 Ego sum 
 
 Parvus homo 
 
 Aptus vivere 
 
 In quod dabis 
 
 Per totam diem 
 
 Familiariter 
 
 Distribuere 
 
 Farinam Iiidicam 
 
 Aut jus Soyerum 
 
 Multo agmini 
 
 Mulierum et hominum 
 
 Stamieo vasi 
 
 Hoc tibi mitto 
 
 Ne peccatum 
 
 Nam locum qusero 
 
 I am 
 
 A little man, 
 Fit to live, 
 On what you'll give ; 
 Through the whole day, 
 In the family way ; 
 Out to deal, 
 Indian meal, 
 Or Soyers soup, 
 To many a troop 
 Of women and men, 
 With a tin can. 
 I send this in. 
 No murthering sin. 
 For a place I seek, 
 
 Ut quaquam hebdomada That every week, 
 Fruar et potiar "We may hob and nob 
 
 Quindecim Robertulis On 15 bob. 
 
 Caius Julius Rattus.
 
 3G 
 
 FROM THE LATIN. 
 
 Sleep, tlio' of death tlie image still thou art, 
 111 pain the solace dearest to the heart ; 
 By pain and grief opprest, oh, then may I 
 Thus in death's likeness live and living: die. 
 
 'to 
 
 Somne levis, licet ipsa simillima mortis imago, 
 Consorteni cupio te tamen esse tori ; 
 Alma quies optata veni, nam sic sine vita 
 Vivere quam dulce est, sic sine morte mori ! 
 
 Non inielleeta senecttis, 
 
 Ohrepit. Juv. 
 
 Youth fades away and withers lilce a flower, 
 A tender plant which blooms but for an hour. 
 The smiles of beauty and the sparkling bowl. 
 The feast of reason and the flow of soul, 
 Vanish too soon, and quick advancing age, 
 Steals o'er our joys and drives us from the stage.
 
 37 
 
 From Dr. Busly^s Westminster Grammar. 
 
 Tolle, puer generose, duo breviaria Musse, 
 Ludicra Grrainmaticse tetras fallentia curas, 
 Non opus est vigilein studio pallere lucernam, 
 Nee linguae pretio patiar dispendia mentis. 
 Siste doini a sumptu tutus damnoque viarum ; 
 Ad te Roma veuit, venit ad te Grsecia, et ambas 
 Prseceptum prim?e lallant cunale loquelae. 
 
 f Translation lij Fred Barne). 
 
 Receive, generous youtli, these presents rare, 
 Sent by the Muse, which soothe devouring care ; 
 Waste not the midnight oil, in learned ease. 
 Escape from greedy hosts and dangerous seas : 
 To visit thee, nor Greece, nor Rome disdain, 
 And charm thy youthful ear with sweetest strain. 
 
 " Lallo" fippoars to be used in singing lullaby to a child, 
 and " Cimale " is an adjective formed from " Cunfe," plural, 
 a cradle. Eenderad freely, " both languages first find expres- 
 sion in tlie teaching of the cradle," i. e., the first teaching the 
 child receives. 
 
 Note. — Dr. Busby was for 50 jears Head Master of 
 "Westminster, during the reign of Charles I., Charles II., and 
 the Protectorate of Cromwell. He wi'ote a Greek grammar 
 in crabbed Latin verse, which was the torment of the 
 Westminster boys. He used to boast that he had flogged 
 half the House of Lords, and half the House of Commons.
 
 38 
 
 THE SONG OF THE CONTICT. 
 
 I cannot take my walks abroad, 
 
 I'm mider lock and key ; 
 And miicli the public I applaud, 
 
 For all tlieir care of me. 
 Not more than others I desh^e, 
 
 In fact much less than more^ 
 Yet I have food while others starve. 
 
 Or beg from door to door. 
 Whilst I am clad from head to foot. 
 
 And covered from the cold, 
 Thousands there are who scarce can tell, 
 
 Where they may lay their head ; 
 But I've a warm and well air'd cell, 
 
 A bath, good books, good bed. 
 Whilst they are fed on workhouse fare. 
 
 And grudged their scanty food ; 
 Three times a day my meals I get. 
 
 Sufficient, wholesome good. 
 Then to the British public health. 
 
 Who all our care relieves, 
 And while they treat us as they do, 
 
 They'll never want for thieves.
 
 39 
 
 H.LH. PRIXCE NAPOLEON. 
 
 Alas ! behold the gallant youth, 
 
 Deserted by his comrade band, 
 His life-blood flowing from his veins, 
 
 Lie stretched on Afric's barren sand. 
 
 No thought had he of dastard flight, 
 Of war he nobly bore the brunt ; 
 
 He singly faced the numerous foe. 
 
 Fell pierced with wounds and all in front. 
 
 On levelled lances four and four 
 Horsemen the noble burthen bore ; 
 
 And tears around the litter fell. 
 
 Shed by those friends who loved him well. 
 
 A noble lady, who long time, 
 
 Had cherished hope (that hope is fled) ; 
 With bitter tears laments his loss, 
 
 Alas ! that tears can't raise the dead.
 
 40 
 
 Great Britain's flag of old renown, 
 Did sadly o'er his coffin wave ; 
 
 Where bravery lies low in death, 
 And valour fills an early grave. 
 
 The wanderer o'er the lonely heath,* 
 When tolls the solemn chapel bell ; 
 
 Will mourn th' untimely fate of one, 
 Who died so soon, was loved so well. 
 
 - Cbisleliurst Heath.
 
 41 
 
 ACROSTIC. 
 
 (Supposed to have leen ivritten hj the late Lord Derhy). 
 G was a Giant, at least in his mind, 
 L a Logician, expert, and refined ; 
 A was an Adept in rhetoric's art, 
 D the Dark spot that he had in his heart. 
 S was the Subtlety, led him astray, 
 T was the Trutli that he bartered away. 
 was the Cypher his conscience became, 
 N the New Light, that illumined the same, 
 E was the Evil One shouting for joy, 
 
 Down with it, down with it, Gladstone, 
 my boy. 
 
 (Written hi) a Young Ladij tvJio did not agree tvith the 
 
 above) . 
 D is the Deficit, plausibly veiled, 
 I tlie Invective, which never yet failed ; 
 S is the Sarcasm, skilfully used, 
 R the Reform, he so basely abused. 
 A Abyssinia, where credit is due, 
 E Education, he's done nothing new. 
 L is a Lesson, we hence may pick up, 
 I Irish Church, the last drop in the cup.
 
 42 
 
 Written hij a tate Bishop of Ehj upon the use of the 
 Surptice in the Diocese of Exeter. 
 
 A very pretty public stir, 
 Is getting up at Exeter, 
 
 About the surplice fashion. 
 And many bitter words and rude, 
 Have been bestowed upon this feud. 
 
 And much un-christian passion. 
 
 For me, T neither know nor care. 
 Whether a parson ought to wear, 
 
 A black dress or a white dress. 
 Suffering a trouble of my own, 
 A wife that preaches in her gown. 
 
 And lectures in her nio-ht-dress.
 
 43 
 
 PARTING. 
 
 On R. Cormvallis and Lord BraylrooJc going with the 
 Guards to Canada : hj the lion. R. Laiolcg. 
 
 When from dear friends about to part, 
 
 Though soon to meet again ; 
 Yet gloomy thoughts oppress the heart, 
 
 Something akin to pain. 
 
 But oh, what words can paint the tears. 
 When from those friends we sever ; 
 
 Perchance to part for months, for years, 
 Perchance to part for ever. 
 
 From a Husband to a departed Wife. 
 
 When thou wert here, I thought that home was 
 heaven. 
 Now thou art gone, I think that heaven is 
 home ; 
 
 Esse Domi, co^him sic, tc presente, putabam 
 Absente in coelo jam rcor esse Domum.
 
 44 
 
 " A FIXE OLD ENGLISH RADICAL." 
 
 Mr. Briglit tlicn rose, and was received with 
 immense enthusiasm — the vast assemblage follow- 
 ing the lead of the band, sang the '' The Fine 
 Old English Gentleman," in his honour. — Extract 
 from the NeivsiJaper Bcjjort of Manchester Electing, 
 on the 2Dth October, 1879. And this is the way it 
 ought to have been sung : — 
 
 I'll sing you a fine old song, that was made by a 
 
 Tory pate. 
 Of a scurrilous Old Radical whose mill was his 
 
 estate, 
 Whence he sold his worthless shoddy at a most 
 
 outrageous rate. 
 And never gave a farthing to the poor man at his 
 
 gate. 
 
 Chorus. — Like a fine old English Radical, 
 One of the modern time.
 
 45 
 
 As he had got no land himself, he hated all who 
 had, 
 
 And sv/ore all country gentlemen were base, and 
 vile, and bad, 
 
 He cursed the peers and parsons too, and hinted 
 he'd be glad 
 
 If all their goods were shared between the land- 
 lord and cad. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 His sword and buckler was his tongue, wducli 
 
 dealt such Avordy blows. 
 That riglit or wrong — he was so strong — he'd 
 
 hammer at his foes — 
 He didn't stoop to argument, but stated what he 
 
 chose. 
 
 And those wdio held a different view might wipe 
 
 a bloody nose. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 '' ' For they are fools and liars — idiots — criminals,' 
 
 says he, 
 '' My word is law ! for isn't this tlie country of 
 
 the free ? 
 " How dare they have opinions then ? Oh ! may 
 
 they ever be 
 
 " Tormented in a warmish j^li^ce wlio disagree 
 
 with me ! " 
 
 Chorus.
 
 46 
 
 And in tlic hour of England's need — divine it was 
 
 and grand, 
 To see liini siding with the foe against his native 
 
 land, 
 In strifes at home his bitter tongue each conto- 
 
 versy fanned, 
 
 Which conduct in a man of 2:)eace is hard to 
 
 understand. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Wlien England was insulted she should pay, he 
 
 said, not fight ; 
 And on this theme his rhetoric was splendid in its 
 
 flii^ht, 
 He urged with burning eloquence the working 
 
 people's right. 
 But voted for the stunted child's mill labour all 
 
 the nifflit ! 
 
 &' 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 He said adulteration was the life and soul of 
 
 trade. 
 That wood was best for nutmegs, and of sand was 
 
 sugar made ; 
 Though we saw the foreign armies standing ready 
 
 to invade ; 
 
 Let him only sell his shoddy and we needn't be 
 
 afraid. 
 
 Chorus.
 
 47 
 Rot the British Constitution ! he respects it not a 
 
 jot, 
 For this fine old English Radical, America's the 
 
 spot ! 
 And there, indeed, were he to go, and ever fix 
 
 his lot. 
 On not too many cheeks would flow the tears so 
 
 scalding hot, 
 For this fine old English Radical, 
 
 One of the modern time. 
 
 — Manchester Courier, 
 
 ZABI. 
 
 f Epitaph to a favourite Arah). 
 
 From Arab sands by western zepliyrs fanned. 
 Dear Zabi safely reached scorched India's land. 
 In Abyssinia's war, he bore a part, 
 No danger e'er appalled his gallant heart. 
 Fond memory oft recalls his jet black eye, 
 His faultless form, and perfect symmetry. 
 Under this verdant turf he calmly sleeps, 
 While o'er his tomb his loving mistress weeps.
 
 48 
 
 rn 
 
 THE PAST. 
 
 By the Hon. W. Spencer^ 
 
 (Who was a disappointed man, and became a Franciscan Monk). 
 
 AVlien midnight o'er the moonless skies, 
 Her pall of transient death hath sjoread ; 
 
 When mortals sleep, when s^^ectres rise, 
 And none are wakeful but the dead. 
 
 No bloodless form my way pursues, 
 No sheeted ghost my couch annoys ; 
 
 Visions more sad my fancy views. 
 Visions of long departed joys. 
 
 The shade of youthful hope is there, 
 That lingered long a.nd latest died ; 
 
 Ambition all dissolved in air. 
 
 With phantom honours by her side. 
 
 What empty visions glimmer nigh, 
 
 They once were friendship, truth, and love ; 
 
 Oh ! die to thought, to memory die. 
 Since lifeless to the heart ye prove.
 
 49 
 
 NOXSEXSE VERSES. 
 
 AVlien plate is by the railroad sent, 
 
 The Compaii3^'s charge is Five per Cent, ; 
 
 But if we insure ourselves, we see 
 
 A penny's thought an ample fee. 
 
 Why is this ? Are gauds, or pelf. 
 
 More precious than a man's own self? 
 
 A member who was hard to please. 
 Attempted by a cough to sneeze. 
 To put down Marten, who was sent, 
 From Galway's wilds to Parliament : 
 Quoth Marten, " I possess a pill, 
 Will cure that Member of his ill," 
 And to Hibernian customs true, 
 A bullet from his pocket drew. 
 
 Dick Gooch went to Melton, returning from 
 
 whence. 
 He was asked by an elderly lady of sense, 
 Which was the best manner of charging a fence ; 
 Quoth Gooch, '' My dear lady, your question is 
 
 fair, 
 '' What others may do, I don't know, I declare, 
 " But I shut both my eyes, and say a short 
 
 2)rayer."
 
 50 
 
 "LUTZOrn JAGEIIS." ^ 
 
 f Dedicated to the East Suffolk VolunteersJ. 
 
 What glances so bright, of the sun 'neath the 
 
 ray ? 
 And the glitter of arms strikes the soul with 
 
 dismay, 
 And a line now deploys in a lengthened array ; 
 And when you enquire the name of the band, 
 They are Jagers who've risen to guard their dear 
 
 land. 
 
 What advances so quick through the forest and 
 
 shade ? 
 While in each hollow dingle an ambush is laid ; 
 The clang of the rifle is heard near, and more 
 
 near, 
 And the boasters of France are seen pallid with 
 
 fear. 
 And the thunder of cannon now bursts on the ear. 
 
 * Lutzoff was a brave German partizau, who raised a corps 
 of rifles and cavalry, to assist in freeing his country from the 
 yoke of France in 1814.
 
 51 
 
 Where the Rhine gaily glistens embosomed in 
 
 vines, 
 The tyrant had formed his strategical lines ; 
 But they leap in the stream with the bound of the 
 
 deer, 
 And the hostile battalions are scattered in fear. 
 
 What horsemen are fighting upon the broad plain ? 
 Whose swords clash so fiercely again and again : 
 It is liberty's spark, which is rising in flame. 
 And the courage of nations is roused by the name. 
 
 Wounded Germans are lying stretched out on the 
 
 plain, 
 But they bear with heroic comjDOSure their pain. 
 For their dear Fatherland they have given their 
 
 all, 
 But drop ncjt a tear on their blood-bedewed pall ; 
 For they shed tlieir life-blood in their country's 
 
 cause. 
 Her liberty, glory, religion, and laws ; 
 And from father to son will descend the bright 
 
 fame 
 Of the black German Jiigers, and of Lutzoif 's 
 
 name.
 
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