'Tl
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 RIVERSIDE 
 
 Ex Libris 
 C. K. OGDEN
 
 MR. CALVERLEY'S WORKS 
 
 Are nnif issued in 4 Vols., Post. Svo., 
 Uniformlij Jiound. 
 
 s. d. 
 LITERARY REMAINS AND MEMOIR. (With 
 
 Portrait.) 10 6 
 
 VERSES AND FLY LEAVES. (Together.) . 7 
 
 TRANSLATIONS 7 6 
 
 THEOCRITUS 7 
 
 India Proofs of the Portrait may bk had 
 separately, price 5.s'. 
 
 LONDON: GEORGE RELL AND SONS. 
 
 a
 
 VERSES 
 
 AND 
 
 FLY LEAVES
 
 VERSE S 
 
 AND 
 
 FLY LEAVES 
 
 By CHARLES STUART CALVERLEY 
 
 NEW EDITION 
 
 LONDON: GEORGE BELL & SONS 
 
 YORK STREET, COVENT GARDEN 
 CAMBRIDGE: DEICHTON, BELL & CO. 
 
 1885
 
 Civil 
 
 CHISWICK press:— C. VVHITTINGHAM AND CO., TOOKS COURT, 
 CHANCERY LANE.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 V^ 
 
 PAGE 
 
 ISIONS 1 
 
 Gemini and Virgo ..... 5 
 
 " There stands a City " 12 
 
 Striking . . . , . . . . 16 
 
 Voices of the Night . . . . . . 19 
 
 Lines suggested by the Fourteenth of February . 22 
 
 A, B. C. 24 
 
 To Mrs. Goodchild 26 
 
 Ode — "On a distant prospect " of Making a Fortune ."0 
 
 Isabel 34 
 
 Lines suggested by the Fourteenth of February . 37 
 
 " Hie Vir, Hie Est '" 39 
 
 Beer 43 
 
 Ode to Tobacco ....... 50 
 
 Dover to Munich ....... 53 
 
 Charades ........ 62 
 
 Proverbial Philosophy ...... 83 
 
 Carmen Saeculare ...... 90 
 
 Morning ........ 101 
 
 Evening . . . . . . . .103 
 
 Shelter 105 
 
 In the Gloaminsr ....... 107 
 
 The Palace Ill
 
 vi CONTENTS. 
 
 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Peace ....... 
 
 115 
 
 The Arab 
 
 117 
 
 Lines on Hearing the Organ . . . . . 
 
 119 
 
 Changed ....... 
 
 125 
 
 First Love ....... 
 
 128 
 
 Wanderers ....... 
 
 131 
 
 Sad Memories ..... 
 
 134 
 
 Companions ....... 
 
 139 
 
 Ballad 
 
 142 
 
 Precious Stones ...... 
 
 145 
 
 Disaster ...... 
 
 149 
 
 Contentment ...... 
 
 152 
 
 The Schoolmaster ..... 
 
 155 
 
 Arcades Ambo ...... 
 
 158 
 
 Waiting ....... 
 
 160 
 
 Play 
 
 162 
 
 Love ........ 
 
 164 
 
 Thoughts at a Railway Station 
 
 167 
 
 On the Brink 
 
 170 
 
 " Forever" 
 
 174 
 
 Under the Trees ...... 
 
 177 
 
 Motherhood 
 
 180 
 
 Mystery ....... 
 
 183 
 
 Flight 
 
 187 
 
 On the Beach ...... 
 
 192 
 
 Lovers, and a Reflection .... 
 
 196 
 
 The Cock and the Bull 
 
 200 
 
 An Examination Paper ..... 
 
 207 
 
 Key to the " Pickwick " Examination Pajier 
 
 212
 
 VISIOXS. 
 
 " She was a phantoui," &c. 
 
 TN lone Glenartney's thickets lies couched the 
 
 lordly stag", 
 The dreaming terrier's tail forgets its customary 
 
 wag; 
 And plodding ploughmen's weary steps insensibly 
 
 grow quicker^ 
 As broadening casements light them on toward 
 
 home, or home-brewed liquor. 
 
 It is in brief the evening — that pure and pleasant 
 
 time, 
 When stars break into splendour, and poets into 
 
 rhyme ; 
 
 II. B
 
 2 VISIONS. 
 
 When in the glass of Memory the forms of loved 
 
 ones shine — 
 And when, of course, Miss Goodchild's is prominent 
 
 in mine. 
 
 MissGoodchild ! — Julia Goodchild ! — howgraciously 
 
 you smiled 
 Upon my childish passion once, yourself a fair-haired 
 
 child : 
 When I was (no doubt) profiting by Dr. Crabb's 
 
 instruction, 
 And sent those streaky lollipops home for your 
 
 fairy suction ! 
 
 ''She wore" her natural "roses, the night when 
 
 first we met" — 
 Her golden hair was gleaming ^neath the coercive 
 
 net : 
 " Her brow was like the snawdrift," her step was 
 
 like Queen Mab^s, 
 And gone was instantly the heart of every boy at 
 
 Crabb's.
 
 VISIONS. 3 
 
 The parlour boarder chasseed towards her on graceful 
 
 limb; 
 The onyx decked his bosom — but her smiles were 
 
 not for him : 
 With one she danced — till drowsily her eyes '' began 
 
 to blink/' 
 And /brought raisin wine, and said, " Drink, pretty 
 
 creature, drink ! " 
 
 And evermore, when winter comes in his garb of 
 
 snows, 
 And the returning schoolboy is told how fast he 
 
 grows ; 
 Shall I — with that soft hand in mine — enact ideal 
 
 Lancers, 
 And dream I hear demure remarks, and make 
 
 impassioned answers : — 
 
 I know that never, never may her love for me 
 
 return — 
 At night I muse upon the fact with undisguised 
 
 concern —
 
 4 VISIONS. 
 
 But ever shall I bless that day : I don^t bless, as a 
 
 rule. 
 The days I spent at " Dr. Crabb^s Preparatory 
 
 School.^' 
 
 And yet we two may meet again — (Be still, my 
 
 throbbing heart !) 
 Now rolling years have weaned us from jam and 
 
 raspberry-tart. 
 One night I saw a vision — 'Twas when musk-roses 
 
 bloom, 
 I stood — we stood — upon a rug, in a sumptuous 
 
 dining-room : 
 
 One hand clasped hers — one easily reposed upon 
 my hip — 
 
 And " Bless ye ! " burst abruptly from Mr. Good- 
 child's lip : 
 
 I raised my brimming eye, and saw in hers an 
 answering gleam — 
 
 My heart beat wildly — and I woke, and lo ! it was 
 a dream.
 
 GEMINI AND VIRGO. 
 
 Q OME vast amount of years ago, 
 
 Ere all my youth had vanished from me, 
 A boy it was my lot to know, 
 
 Whom his familiar friends called Tommy. 
 
 I love to gaze upon a child ; 
 
 A young bud bursting into blossom ; 
 Artless, as Eve yet unbeguiled, 
 
 And agile as a young opossum : 
 
 And such was he. A calm-brow'd lad, 
 Yet mad, at moments, as a hatter: 
 
 Why hatters as a race are mad 
 
 I never knew, nor does it matter.
 
 GEMINI AND VIRGO. 
 
 He was what nurses call a '' limb " ; 
 
 One of those small misguided creatures. 
 Who, tho^ their intellects are dim, 
 
 Are one too many for their teachers : 
 
 And, if you asked of him to say 
 What twice 10 was, or 3 times 7, 
 
 HeM glance (in quite a placid way) 
 
 From heaven to earth, from earth to heaven ; 
 
 And smile, and look politely round, 
 
 To catch a casual suggestion ; 
 But make no effort to propound 
 
 Any solution of the question. 
 
 And so not much esteemed was he 
 Of the authorities : and therefore 
 
 He fraternized by chance with me, 
 Needing a somebody to care for : 
 
 And three fair summers did we twain 
 Live (as they say) and love together ; 
 
 And bore by turns the wholesome cane 
 Till our young skins became as leather :
 
 GEMINI AND VIRGO. 
 
 And carved our names on every desk, 
 
 And tore our clothes, and inked our collars; 
 
 And looked unique and picturesque, 
 But not, it may be, model scholars. 
 
 We did much as we chose to do ; 
 
 We^d never heard of Mrs. Grundy; 
 All the theology we knew 
 
 Was that we mightn't play on Sunday ; 
 
 And all the general truths, that cakes 
 Were to be bought at four a penny, 
 
 And that excruciating aches 
 Resulted if we ate too many : 
 
 And seeing ignorance is bliss. 
 And wisdom consequently folly. 
 
 The obvious result is this — 
 
 That our two lives were very jolly. 
 
 At last the separation came. 
 
 Real love, at that time, was the fashion ; 
 And by a horrid chance, the same 
 
 Young thing was, to us both, a passion.
 
 8 GEMINI AND VIRGO. 
 
 Old Poser snorted like a horse : 
 
 His feet were large, liis hands were pimply, 
 His manner, when excited, coarse : — 
 
 But Miss P. was an angel simply. 
 
 She was a blushing, gushing thing ; 
 
 All — more than all — my fancy painted ; 
 Once — when she helped me to a wing 
 
 Of goose — I thought I should have fainted. 
 
 The people said that she was blue : 
 
 But I was green, and loved her dearly. 
 
 She was approaching thirty-two ; 
 And I was then eleven, nearly. 
 
 1 did not love as others do ; 
 
 (None ever did that IVe heard tell of;) 
 My passion was a byword through 
 
 The town she was, of course, the belle of: 
 
 Oh sweet — as to the toilworn man 
 The far-off sound of rippling river ; 
 
 As to cadets in Hindostan 
 
 The fleeting remnant of their liver —
 
 GEMINI AND VIRGO. 
 
 To me was Anna ; dear as gold 
 
 That fills the miser^s sunless coffers ; 
 
 As to the spinster, growing old, 
 
 The thought — the dream — that she had offers. 
 
 I^d sent her little gifts of fruit ; 
 
 rd written lines to her as Venus ; 
 Vdi sworn unflinchingly to shoot 
 
 The man who dared to come between us : 
 
 And it was you, my Thomas, you. 
 
 The friend in whom my soul confided, 
 
 Who dared to gaze on her — to do, 
 I may say, much the same as I did. 
 
 One night, I saio him squeeze her hand ; 
 
 There was no doubt about the matter ; 
 I said he must resign, or stand 
 
 My vengeance — and he chose the latter. 
 
 We met, we " planted '^ blows on blows : 
 We fought as long as we were able : 
 
 My rival had a bottle-nose, 
 
 And both my speaking eyes were sable.
 
 10 GEMINI AND VIRGO. 
 
 When the school-bell cut short our strife. 
 
 Miss P. gave both of us a plaister ; 
 
 And in a week became the wife 
 
 Of Horace Nibbs^ the writing-master. 
 « t» « « « 
 
 I loved her then — I'd love her still, 
 Only one must not love Another's : 
 
 But thou and I, my Tommy, will. 
 
 When we again meet, meet as brothers. 
 
 It may be that in age one seeks 
 
 Peace only : that the blood is brisker 
 
 In boys' veins, than in theirs whose cheeks 
 Are partially obscured by whisker ; 
 
 Or that the growing ages steal 
 
 The memories of past wrongs from us. 
 
 But this is certain — that I feel 
 
 Most friendly unto thee, oh Thomas ! 
 
 And whereso'er we meet again. 
 On this or that side the equator,
 
 GEMINI AND AaRGO. 11 
 
 If I've not turned teetotaller then, 
 
 And have wherewith to pay the waiter, 
 
 To thee Fll drain the modest cup, 
 
 Ignite with thee the mild Havannah ; 
 
 And we will waft, while liquoring up. 
 Forgiveness to the heartless Anna.
 
 There stands a city." 
 
 Ingoldsby. 
 
 T7EAR by year do Beauty's daughters, 
 
 In the sweetest gloves and shawls, 
 Troop to taste the Chattenham waters. 
 And adorn the Chattenham balls. 
 
 " Nulla non donanda lauru/' 
 Is that city : you could not, 
 
 Placing England's map before you, 
 Light on a more favour'd spot. 
 
 If no clear translucent river 
 
 Winds 'neath willow-shaded paths, 
 '' Children and adults " may shiver 
 
 All day in " Chalybeate baths 
 
 >)
 
 "THERE STANDS A CITY." 13 
 
 And on every side the painter 
 
 Looks on wooded vale and plain . 
 
 And on fair hills^ faint and fainter 
 Outlined as they near the main. 
 
 There I met with him^ my chosen 
 
 Friend — the '' long " but not '' stern swell/' ' 
 Faultless in his hats and hosen, 
 
 Whom the Johnian lawns know well : — 
 
 Oh my comrade^ ever valued ! 
 
 Still I see your festive face ; 
 Hear you humming of " the gal you'd 
 
 Left behind " in massive bass : 
 
 See you sit with that composure 
 
 On the eeliest of hacks^ 
 That the novice would suppose your 
 
 Manly limbs encased in wax : 
 
 ^ " The kites know well the long stern SAvell 
 That bids the Romans close.''— Macaulay.
 
 14 "THERE STANDS A CITY." 
 
 Or anon, wlien evening lent her 
 Tranquil liglit to bill and vale, 
 
 Urge, towards the table's centre, 
 With unerring hand, the squail. 
 
 Ah delectablest of summers ! 
 
 How my heart — that " muffled drum "' 
 Which ignores the aid of drummers — 
 
 Beats, as back thy memories come ! 
 
 among the dancers peerless. 
 Fleet of foot, and soft of eye ! 
 
 Need I say to you that cheerless 
 Must my days be till I die ? 
 
 At my side she mashed the fragrant 
 Strawberry ; lashes soft as silk 
 
 Drooped o'er saddened eyes, when vagrant. 
 Gnats sought watery graves in milk : 
 
 Then we danced, we walked together ; 
 
 Talked — no doubt on trivial topics ; 
 Such as Blondin, or the weather. 
 
 Which "recalled us to the tropics/*
 
 "THERE STANDS A CITY." 15- 
 
 But — in the deuxtemps peerless, 
 Fleet of foot, and soft of eye ! — 
 
 Once more I repeat, that cheerless 
 Shall my days be till I die. 
 
 And the lean and hungry raven. 
 As he picks my bones, will start 
 
 To observe '^ M. N." engraven 
 Neatly on my blighted heart.
 
 I 
 
 STRIKING. 
 
 T was a railway passenger, 
 
 And he lept out jauntilie. 
 Now up and bear, thou stout porter, 
 
 My two chattels to me. 
 
 " Bring hither, bring hither my bag so red, 
 
 And portmanteau so brown : 
 (They lie in the van, for a trusty man 
 
 He labelled them London town ;) 
 
 '' And fetch me eke a cabman bold, 
 That I may be his fare, his fare ; 
 And he shall have a good shilling. 
 If by two of the clock he do me bring 
 To the Terminus, Euston Square. '^
 
 STRIKING. 17 
 
 " Now, — so to thee the saints alway, 
 
 Good gentlemen, give luck, — 
 As never a cab may I find this day, 
 
 For the cabman wights have struck : 
 And now, I wis, at the Red Post Inn, 
 
 Or else at the Dog and Duck, 
 Or at Unicorn Blue, or at Green Griffin, 
 The nut-brown ale and the fine old gin 
 
 Right pleasantly they do suck/' 
 
 " Now rede me aright, thou stout porter, 
 What were it best that I should do : 
 
 For woe is me, an' I reach not there 
 Or ever the clock strike two." 
 
 " I have a son, a lytel son ; 
 
 Fleet is his foot as the wild roebuck's : 
 Give him a shilling, and eke a brown. 
 And he shall carry thy fardels down 
 To Euston, or half over Loudon town. 
 
 On one of the station trucks." 
 
 Then forth in a hurry did they twain fare, 
 The gent, and the son of the stout porter, 
 II. c
 
 18 STRIKING. 
 
 Who fled like an arrow, nor turned a hair, 
 
 Through all the mire and muck : 
 " A ticket, a ticket, sir clerk, I pray : 
 For by two of the clock must I needs away/' 
 " That may hardly be,^' the clerk did say, 
 " For indeed — the clocks have struck/'
 
 VOICES OF THE NIGHT. 
 
 " The tender Grace of a day that is dead." 
 
 ^HE dew is on the roses. 
 
 The owl hath spread her wing ; 
 And vocal are the noses 
 
 Of peasant and of king : 
 " Nature " in short " reposes " ; 
 
 But I do no such thing-. 
 
 Pent in my lonesome study 
 Here I must sit and muse ; 
 
 Sit till the morn grows ruddy, 
 Till, rising with the dews, 
 
 '' Jeameses " remove the muddy 
 Spots from their masters' shoes.
 
 20 VOICES OF THE NIGHT. 
 
 Yet are sweet faces flinging 
 Their witchery o'er me here : 
 
 I hear sweet voices singing 
 A song as soft, as clear^ 
 
 As (previously to stinging) 
 A gnat sings round one's ear. 
 
 Does Grace draw young Apollos 
 In blue mustachios still ? 
 
 Does Emma tell the swallows 
 How she will pipe and trill, 
 
 When, some fine day, she follows 
 Those birds to the window-sill ? 
 
 And oh ! has Albert faded 
 From Grace's memory yet ? 
 
 Albert, whose " brow was shaded 
 By locks of glossiest jet," 
 
 Whom almost any lady'd 
 
 Have given her eyes to get ? 
 
 Does not her conscience smite her 
 For one who hourly pines.
 
 VOICES OF THE NIGHT. 21 
 
 Thinking her bright eyes brighter 
 
 Than any star that shines — 
 I mean of course the writer 
 
 Of these pathetic lines ? 
 
 Who knows ? As quoth Sir Walter^ 
 '^ Time rolls his ceaseless course : 
 
 " The Grace of yore " may alter — 
 And then, IVe one resource : 
 
 Fll invest in a bran-new halter, 
 And I'll perish without remorse.
 
 LINES SUGGESTED BY THE FOURTEENTH 
 OF FEBRUARY. 
 
 T7^ RE the morn the East has crimsoned, 
 When the stars are twinkling there, 
 (As they did in Watts's Hymns, and 
 
 Made him wonder what they were :) 
 When the forest-nymphs are beading 
 
 Fern and flower with silvery dew — 
 My infallible proceeding 
 
 Is to wake, and think of you. 
 
 When the hunter's ringing bugle 
 Sounds farewell to field and copse, 
 
 And I sit before my frugal 
 
 Meal of gravy-soup and chops : 
 
 When (as Gray remarks) " the moping 
 Owl doth to the moon complain,"
 
 THE FOURTEENTH OF FEBRUARY. 23 
 
 And the hour suggests eloping — 
 Fly my thoughts to you again. 
 
 May my dreams be granted never ? 
 
 Must I aye endure affliction 
 Rarely realised^ if ever^ 
 
 In our wildest works of fiction ? 
 Madly Romeo loved his Juliet ; 
 
 Copperfield began to pine 
 When he hadn't been to school yet — 
 
 But their loves were cold to mine. 
 
 Give me hope, the least, the dimmest, 
 
 Ere I drain the poisoned cup : 
 Tell me I may tell the chymist 
 
 Not to make that arsenic up ! 
 Else the heart must cease to throb in 
 
 This my breast ; and when, in tones 
 Hushed, men ask, '^ Who killed Cock Robin V 
 
 They'll be told, " Miss Clara J s."
 
 A^ B, C. 
 
 A is an Angel of blushing eighteen : 
 
 B is the Ball where the Angel was seen ; 
 
 C is her Chaperon, who cheated at cards : 
 
 D is the Deuxtemps, with Frank of the Guards: 
 
 E is her Eye, killing slowly but surely : 
 
 F is the Fan, whence it peeped so demurely : 
 
 G is the Glove of superlative kid : 
 
 H is the Hand which it spitefully hid : 
 
 I is the Ice which the fair one demanded : 
 
 J is the Juvenile, that dainty who handed : 
 
 K is the Kerchief, a rare work of art ; 
 
 L is the Lace which composed the chief part : 
 
 M is the old Maid who watchM the chits dance : 
 
 N is the Nose she turned up at each glance : 
 
 is the Olga (just then in its prime):
 
 A, B, C. 25 
 
 P is the Partner who wouldn^t keep time : 
 
 Q 's a Quadrille, put instead of the Lancers : 
 
 R the Remonstrances made by the dancers : 
 
 S is the Supper, where all went in pairs : 
 
 T is the Twaddle they talked on the stairs : 
 
 U is the Uncle who '' thought we^d be goin 
 
 V is the Voice which his niece replied " No " in 
 W is the Waiter, who sat up till eight : 
 
 X is his Exit, not rigidly straight : 
 
 Y is a Yawning fit caused by the Ball : 
 Z stands for Zero, or nothing at all. 
 
 ' . '^
 
 TO MRS. GOODCHILD. 
 
 nnHE niglit-wincVs sliriek is pitiless and hollow, 
 
 The boding bat flits by on sullen wing, 
 And I sit desolate, like that " one swallow " 
 Who found (with horror) that he^d not brought 
 spring : 
 Lonely as he who erst with venturous thumb 
 Drew from its pie-y lair the solitary plum. 
 
 And to my gaze the phantoms of the Past, 
 
 The cherished fictions of my boyhood, rise : 
 I see Red Ridinghood observe, aghast, 
 
 The fixed expression of her grandam^s eyes ;* 
 I hear the fiendish chattering and chuckling 
 Which those misguided fowls raised at the Ugly 
 Duckling.
 
 TO MRS. GOODCHILD. 27 
 
 The House that Jack built — and the Malt that lay 
 Within the House — the Rat that ate the Malt — 
 The Cat, that in that sanguinary way 
 
 Punished the poor thing for its venial fault — 
 The Worrier-Dog — the Cow with crumpled 
 horn — 
 And then — ah yes ! and then — the Maiden all 
 forlorn ! 
 
 Mrs. Gurton — (may I call thee Gammer ?) 
 Thou more than mother to my infant mind ! 
 
 1 loved thee better than I loved my grammar — 
 
 I used to wonder why the Mice were blind, 
 And who was gardener to Mistress Mary, 
 And what — I don't know still — was meant by 
 " quite contrary." 
 
 " Tota contraria," an " Arundo Cami " 
 
 Has phrased it — which is possibly explicit, 
 Ingenious certainly — but all the same I 
 
 Still ask, when coming on the word, '' AYhat 
 is it ? " 
 There were more things in Mrs. Gurton's eye, 
 Mayhap, than are dreamed of in our philosophy.
 
 28 TO MRS. GOODCHILD. 
 
 No clouht the Editor of " Notes and Queries '' 
 
 Or ''Things not generally known ^^ could tell 
 The word^s real force — my only lurking fear is 
 
 That the great Gammer " didna ken hersel " : 
 (IVe precedent, yet feel I owe apology 
 For passing in this way to Scottish phraseology). 
 
 Also, dear Madam, I must ask your pardon 
 For making this unwarranted digression, 
 Starting (I think) from Mistress Mary's gar- 
 den : — 
 And beg to send, with every expression 
 Of personal esteem, a Book of Rhymes, 
 For Master G. to read at miscellaneous times. 
 
 There is a youth, who keeps a " crumpled Horn," 
 
 (Living next me, upon the selfsame story,) 
 And ever, 'twixt the midnight and the morn. 
 
 He solaces his soul with Annie Laurie. 
 The tune is good ; the habit p'raps romantic ; 
 But tending, if pursued, to drive one's neighbours 
 frantic.
 
 TO MRS. GOODCHILD. 29 
 
 And now, — at this unprecedented hour, 
 
 When the young Dawn is " trampling out the 
 stars/^ — 
 I hear that youth — with more than usual power 
 And pathos — struggling with the first few 
 bars. 
 And I do think the amateur cornopean 
 Should be put down by law — but that's perhaps 
 Utopian. 
 
 Who knows what '^ things unknown " I might 
 have " bodied 
 Forth/' if not checked by that absurd Too-too ? 
 But don't I know that when my friend has 
 plodded 
 Through the first verse, the second will ensue ? 
 Considering which, dear Madam, I will merely 
 Send the beforenamed book — and am yours most 
 sincerely .
 
 ODE— '^ ON A DISTANT PROSPECT'' OF 
 MAKING A FORTUNE. 
 
 ATOW the " rosy morn appearing " 
 
 Floods with light the dazzled heaven ; 
 And the schoolboy groans on hearing 
 
 That eternal clock strike seven : — 
 Now the waggoner is driving 
 
 Tow'rds the fields his clattering wain ; 
 Now the blue-bottle, reviving, 
 
 Buzzes down his native pane. 
 
 But to me the morn is hateful : 
 
 Wearily I stretch my legs. 
 Dress, and settle to my plateful 
 
 Of (perhaps inferior) eggs.
 
 ODE— "ON A DISTANT PROSPECT." 31 
 
 Yesterday Miss Crump, by message, 
 
 Mentioned "rent," which "p'raps I'd pay;" 
 
 And I have a dismal presage 
 That she'll call, herself, to-day. 
 
 Once, I breakfasted off rosewood, 
 
 Smoked through silver-mounted pipes — 
 Then how my patrician nose would 
 
 Turn up at the thought of " swipes " ! 
 Ale, — occasionally claret, — 
 
 Graced my luncheon then ; — and now 
 I drink porter in a garret. 
 
 To be paid for heaven knows how. 
 
 When the evening shades are deepened. 
 
 And I doff my hat and gloves, 
 No sweet bird is there to " cheep and 
 
 Twitter twenty million loves ; " 
 No dark-ringleted canaries 
 
 Sing to me of " hungry foam ; " 
 No imaginary " Marys " 
 
 Call fictitious " cattle home."
 
 32 ODE— "ON A DISTANT PROSPECT" 
 
 Araminta, sweetest, fairest ! 
 
 Solace once of every ill ! 
 How I wonder if thou bearest 
 
 Mivins in remembrance still ! 
 If that Friday night is banished 
 
 From a once retentive mind, 
 When the others somehow vanished, 
 
 And we two were left behind : — 
 
 When in accents low, yet thrilling, 
 
 I did all my love declare ; 
 Mentioned that I^d not a shilling — 
 
 Hinted that we need not care ; 
 And complacently you listened 
 
 To my somewhat long address, 
 And I thought the tear that glistened 
 
 In the downdropt eye said Yes. 
 
 Once, a happy child, I carolled 
 
 O^er green lawns the whole day through. 
 Not unpleasingly apparelled 
 
 In a tightish suit of blue : —
 
 OF MAKING A FORTUNE. 33 
 
 What a change has now passed o'er me ! 
 
 Now with what dismay I see 
 Every rising morn before me ! 
 
 Goodness gracious patience me ! 
 
 And 1^11 prowl, a moodier Lara, 
 
 Thro' the world, as prowls the bat. 
 And habitually wear a 
 
 Cypress wreath around my hat : 
 And when Death snuffs out the taper 
 
 Of my Life, (as soon he must), 
 I'll send up to every paper, 
 
 ''Died, T. Mivins ; of disgust." 
 
 II. D
 
 ISABEL. 
 
 ATOW o'er the landscape crowd the deepening 
 shades, 
 And the shut lily cradles not the bee ; 
 
 The red deer couches in the forest g'lades, 
 And faint the echoes of the slumberous sea : 
 And ere I rest, one prayer 1^11 breathe for thee. 
 
 The sweet Egeria of my lonely dreams : 
 Lady, forgive, that ever upon nie 
 Thoughts of thee linger, as the soft starb earns 
 
 Linger on Merlin's rock, or dark Sabrina's streams. 
 
 On gray Pilatus once we loved to stray, 
 And watch far off the glimmering roselight break 
 O'er the dim mountain- peaks, ere yet one ray 
 Pierced the deep bosom of the mist-clad lake. 
 Oh ! who felt not new life within him wake.
 
 ISABEL. 35 
 
 And his pulse quicken^ and his spirit burn — 
 
 (Save one we wot of, whom the cold did make 
 Feel " shooting- pains in every joint in turn,^^) 
 When first he saw the sun gild thy green shores. 
 Lucerne ? 
 
 And years have past, and I have gazed once more 
 
 On blue lakes glistening amid mountains blue ; 
 And all seemed sadder, lovelier than before — 
 
 For all awakened memories of you. 
 
 Oh ! had I had you ^y my side, in lieu • 
 Of that red matron, whom the flies would worry, 
 
 (Flies in those parts unfortunately do,) 
 Who walked so slowly, talked in such a hurry, 
 And with such wild contempt for stops and Lindley 
 Murray ! 
 
 Isabel, the brightest, heavenliest theme 
 That ere drew dreamer on to poesy. 
 
 Since "Peggy^s locks" made Burns neglect his 
 team, 
 And Stella's smile lured Johnson from his tea — 
 I may not tell thee what thou art to me !
 
 36 ISABEL. 
 
 But ever dwells the soft voice in my ear, 
 
 Whispering of what Time is, what Man might be, 
 Would he but " do the duty that lies near/' 
 
 And cut clubs, cards, champagne, balls, billiard- 
 rooms, and beer.
 
 LINES SUGGESTED BY THE FOURTEENTH 
 OF FEBRUARY. 
 
 T^ARKNESS succeeds to twilight: 
 
 Through lattice and through skylight, 
 The stars no doubt, if one looked out. 
 Might be observed to shine : 
 And sitting- by the embers 
 I elevate my members 
 On a stray chair, and then and there 
 Commence a Valentine. 
 
 Yea ! by St, Valentinus, 
 Emma shall not be minus 
 What all young ladies, whatever their grade is. 
 Expect to-day no doubt :
 
 38 THE FOURTEENTH OF FEBRUARY. 
 
 Emma the fair, the stately — 
 Whom I beheld so lately, 
 Smiling beneath the snow-white wreath 
 Which told that she was '' out/^ 
 
 Wherefore fly to her, swallow, 
 And mention that I'd " follow,'' 
 And " pipe and trill," et cetera, till 
 I died, had I but wings : 
 Say the North's " true and tender," 
 The South an old offender; 
 And hint in fact, with your well-known tact. 
 All kinds of pretty things. 
 
 Say I grow hourly thinner. 
 Simply abhor my dinner — 
 Tho' I do try and absorb some viand 
 Each day, for form's sake merely : 
 And ask her, when all's ended. 
 And I am found extended, 
 With vest blood-spotted and cut carotid. 
 To think on Her's sincerely.
 
 '^HrC VIB, HIC EST." 
 
 /~\ FTEN, when o'er tree and turret, 
 
 Eve a dying' radiance flings, 
 By that ancient pile I linger 
 
 Known familiarly as " King's." 
 And the ghosts of days departed 
 
 Rise, and in my burning breast 
 All the undergraduate wakens, 
 
 And my spirit is at rest. 
 
 What, but a revolting fiction, 
 
 Seems the actual result 
 Of the Census's enquiries 
 
 Made upon the loth ult. ? 
 Still my soul is in its boyhood ; 
 
 Nor of year or changes recks. 
 Though my scalp is almost hairless. 
 
 And my figure grows convex.
 
 40 "HIC VIB, HIC EST." 
 
 Backward moves the kindly dial ; 
 
 And I'm numbered once again 
 With those noblest of their species 
 
 Called emphatically '' Men : " 
 Loaf, as I have loafed aforetime, 
 
 Through the streets, with tranquil mind. 
 And a long-backed fancy-mongrel 
 
 Trailing casually behind : 
 
 Past the Senate-house I saunter. 
 
 Whistling with an easy grace ; 
 Past the cabbage-stalks that carpet 
 
 Still the beefy market-place ; 
 Poising evermore the eye-glass 
 
 In the light sarcastic eye. 
 Lest, by chance, some breezy nursemaid 
 
 Pass, without a tribute, by. 
 
 Once, an vmassuming Freshman, 
 Thro' these wilds I wandered on. 
 
 Seeing in each house a College, 
 Under every cap a Don :
 
 "HIC VIB, HIC EST." 41 
 
 Each perambulating infant 
 
 Had a magic in its squall. 
 For my eager eye detected 
 
 Senior Wranglers in tliem all. 
 
 By degrees my education 
 
 Grew, and I became as others ; 
 Learned to blunt my moral feelings 
 
 By the aid of Bacon Brothers ; 
 Bought me tiny boots of Mortlock, 
 
 And colossal prints of Roe ; 
 And ignored the proposition 
 
 That both time and money go. 
 
 Learned to work the wary dogcart 
 
 Artfully thro^ King's Parade ; 
 Dress, and steer a boat, and sport with 
 
 Amaryllis in the shade : 
 Struck, at Brown's, the dashing hazard ;. 
 
 Or (more curious sport than that) 
 Dropped, at Callaby's, the terrier 
 
 Down upon the prisoned rat.
 
 42 "HIC VIE, HIC EST." 
 
 I have stood serene on Fenner's 
 
 Ground, indifferent to blisters, 
 While the Buttress of the period 
 
 Bowled me his peculiar twisters : 
 Sung " We won^t go home till morning ; " 
 
 Striven to part my backhair straight ; 
 Drunk (not lavishly) of Miller^s 
 
 Old dry wines at 78/ : — 
 
 When within my veins the blood ran, 
 
 And the curls were on my brow, 
 I did, oh ye undergraduates. 
 
 Much as ye are doing now. 
 Wherefore bless ye, beloved ones : — 
 
 Now unto mine inn must I, 
 Your " poor moralist," ^ betake me, 
 
 In my " solitary fly/^ 
 
 ' " Poor moralist, and what art thou ? 
 
 A solitary flv." Gray.
 
 BEER. 
 
 ~rN those old days whicli poets say were golden — 
 (Perhaps they laid the gilding on themselves : 
 And, if they did, I'm all the more beholden 
 
 To those brown dwellers in my dusty shelves, 
 Who talk to me " in language quaint and olden '' 
 
 Of gods and demigods and fauns and elves, 
 Pan with his pipes, and Bacchus with his leopards, 
 And staid young goddesses who flirt with shepherds:) 
 
 In those old days, the Xymph called Etiquette 
 (Appalling thought to dwell on) was not born. 
 
 They had their May, but no Mayfair as yet. 
 No fashions varying as the hues of morn. 
 
 Just as they pleased they dressed and drank and ate. 
 Sang hymns to Ceres (their John Barleycorn) 
 
 And danced unchaperonedj and laughed unchecked, 
 
 And were no doubt extremely incorrect.
 
 44 BEER. 
 
 Yet do I think their theory was pleasant : 
 
 And oft, I own, my " wayward fancy roams " 
 
 Back to those times, so different from the present ; 
 When no one smoked cigars, nor gave At-homes, 
 
 Nor smote a billiard-ball, nor winged a pheasant. 
 Nor '^ did ^' her hair by means of long-tailed combs. 
 
 Nor migrated to Brighton once a year. 
 
 Nor — most astonishing of all — drank Beer. 
 
 No, they did not drink Beer, " which brings me to '* 
 (As Gilpin said) ^' the middle of my song/' 
 
 Not that ''the middle '^ is precisely true. 
 
 Or else I should not tax your patience long : 
 
 If I had said " beginning,'^ it might do ; 
 But I have a dislike to quoting wrong : 
 
 I was unlucky — sinned against, not sinning — 
 
 When Cowper wrote down " middle " for " be- 
 g-inning-/' 
 
 So to proceed. That abstinence from Malt 
 Has always struck me as extremely curious. 
 
 The Gi'eek mind must have had some vital fault, 
 That they should stick to liquors so injurious —
 
 BEER. 45 
 
 (Wine^ water, tempered p'raps with Attic salt) — 
 
 And not at once invent that mild, luxurious, 
 And artful beverage. Beer. How the digestion 
 Got on without it, is a startling question. 
 
 Had they digestions ? and an actual body 
 Such as dyspepsia might make attacks on ? 
 
 Were they abstract ideas^(like Tom Noddy 
 
 And Mr. Briggs) — or men, like Jones and 
 Jackson ? 
 
 Then nectar — was that beer, or whisky-toddy ? 
 Some say the Gaelic mixture, I the Saxon : 
 
 I think a strict adherence to the latter 
 
 Might make some Scots less pigheaded, and fatter. 
 
 Besides, Bon Gaultier definitely shows 
 
 That the real beverage for feasting gods on 
 
 Is a soft con>pound, grateful to the nose 
 
 And also to the palate, known as " Hodgson.'^ 
 
 I know a man — a tailor's son — who rose 
 
 To be a peer : and this I would lay odds on, 
 
 (Though in his Memoirs it may not appear,) 
 
 That that man owed his rise to copious Beer.
 
 46 BEER. 
 
 Beer ! Hodgson, Guinness, AUsopp, Bass ! 
 Names that should be on every infantas tongue ! 
 
 Shall days and months and years and centuries pass^ 
 And still your merits be unrecked, unsung ? 
 
 Oh ! I have gazed into my foaming glass, 
 
 And wished that lyre could yet again be strung 
 
 Which once rang prophet-like through Greece, and 
 taught her 
 
 Misguided sons that the best drink was water. 
 
 How would he now recant that wild opinion. 
 
 And sing — as would that I could sing — of you f 
 
 1 was not born (alas !) the ''Muses^ minion,^^ 
 
 Vm. not poetical, not even blue : 
 And he, we know, but strives with waxen pinion,. 
 
 Whoever he is that entertains the view 
 Of emulating Pindar, and will be 
 Sponsor at last to some now nameless^ sea. 
 
 Oh ! when the green slopes of Arcadia burned 
 With all the lustre of the dying day. 
 
 And on Cithgeron^s brow the reaper turned, 
 (Humming, of course, in his delightful way.
 
 BEER. 47 
 
 How Lycidas was dead, and how concerned 
 
 The Nymphs were when they saw his lifeless 
 clay; 
 And how rock told to rock the dreadful story 
 That poor young Lycidas was gone to glory :) 
 
 What would that lone and labourino- soul have 
 given, 
 
 At that soft moment for a pewter pot ! 
 How had the mists that dimmed his eye been riven. 
 
 And Lycidas and sorrow all forgot ! 
 If his own grandmother had died unshriven. 
 
 In two short seconds he'd have recked it not ; 
 Such power hath Beer. The heart which Grief hath 
 
 cankered 
 Hath one unfailing remedy — the Tankard. 
 
 Coffee is good, and so no doubt is cocoa ; 
 
 Tea did for Johnson and the Chinamen : 
 When " Dulce est desipere in loco " 
 
 Was written, real Falernian winged the pen. 
 When a rapt audience has encored " Fra Poco '* 
 
 Or " Casta Diva,'^ I have heard that then
 
 48 BEER. 
 
 The Prima Donna, smiling- herself out, 
 Recruits her flagging powers with bottled stout. 
 
 But what is coffee, but a noxious berry. 
 Born to keep used-up Londoners awake ? 
 
 What is Falernian, what is Port or Sherry, 
 
 But vile concoctions to make dull heads ache ? 
 
 Nay stout itself — (though good with oysters, 
 very) — 
 Is not a thing your reading man should take. 
 
 He that would shine, and petrify his tutor, 
 
 Should drink draught Allsopp in its '' native pewter." 
 
 But hark ! a sound is stealing on my ear — 
 A soft and silvery sound — I know it well. 
 
 Its tinkling tells me that a time is near 
 Precious to me — it is the Dinner Bell. 
 
 O blessed Bell ! Thou bringest beef and beer. 
 Thou bringest good things more than tongue 
 may tell : 
 
 Seared is, of course, my heart — but unsubdued 
 
 Is, and shall be, my appetite for food.
 
 BEER. 49 
 
 I go. Untaught and feeble is my pen : 
 
 But on one statement I may safely venture : 
 
 That few of our most highly gifted men 
 Have more appreciation of the trencher. 
 
 I go. One pound of Bi'itish beef, and then 
 
 What Mr. Swiveller called a '^modest quencher ^^; 
 
 That home-returning, I may " soothl}^ say/' 
 
 " Fate cannot touch me : I have dined to-day. '^ 
 
 II.
 
 ODE TO TOBACCO. 
 
 n^HOU who, when fears attack, 
 Bidst them avaunt, and Black 
 Care, at the horseman's back 
 
 Perching, unseatest ; 
 Sweet, when the morn is gray ; 
 Sweet, when they've cleared away 
 Lunch ; and at close of day 
 
 Possibly sweetest : 
 
 I have a liking old 
 
 For thee, though manifold 
 
 Stories, I know, are told, 
 
 Not to thy credit ; 
 How one (or two at most) 
 Drops make a cat a ghost —
 
 ODE TO TOBACCO. 51 
 
 Useless, except to roast — 
 Doctors have said it : 
 
 How they who use fusees 
 All grow by slow degrees 
 Brainless as chimpanzees. 
 
 Meagre as lizards ; 
 Go mad, and beat their wives ; 
 Plunge (after shocking lives) 
 Razors and carving knives 
 
 Into their gizzards. 
 
 Confound such knavish tricks ! 
 Yet know I five or six 
 Smokers who freely mix 
 
 Still with their neighbours ; 
 Jones — (who, I^m glad to say. 
 Asked leave of Mrs. J.) — 
 Daily absorbs a clay 
 
 After his labours. 
 
 Cats may have had their goose 
 Cooked by tobacco-juice;
 
 62 ODE TO TOBACCO. 
 
 k 
 
 Still why deny its use 
 
 Thoughtfally taken ? 
 
 We're not as tabbies are : 
 
 Smith, take a fresh cigar ! 
 
 Jones, the tobacco-jar ! 
 
 Here's to thee, Bacon !
 
 DOVER TO MUNICH. 
 
 T?AREWELL, farewell ! Before our prow- 
 Leaps in white foam the noisy channel ; 
 A tourist^s cap is on my brow, 
 
 My legs are cased in tourist's flannel : 
 
 Around me gasp the invalids — 
 The quantity to-night is fearful — 
 
 I take a brace or so of weeds, 
 
 And feel (as yet) extremely cheerful. 
 
 The night wears on : — my thirst I quench 
 With one imperial pint of porter ; 
 
 Then drop upon a casual bench — 
 
 (The bench is short, bvit I am shorter) —
 
 54 DOVER TO MUNICH. 
 
 Place 'neath my head the havre-sac 
 Which I have stowed my little all in, 
 
 And sleep, though moist about the back, 
 Serenely in an old tarpaulin. 
 
 Bed at Ostend at 5 a.m. 
 
 Breakfast at 6, and train 6*30, 
 Tickets to Konigswinter (mem. 
 
 The seats unutterably dirty) . 
 
 And onward thro' those dreary flats 
 We move, with scanty space to sit on. 
 
 Flanked by stout girls with steeple hats. 
 And waists that paralyse a Briton ; — 
 
 By many a tidy little town. 
 
 Where tidy little Fraus sit knitting ; 
 (The men's pursuits are, lying down. 
 
 Smoking perennial pipes, and spitting ; ) 
 
 And doze, and execrate the heat. 
 
 And wonder how far off Cologne is. 
 
 And if we shall get aught to eat, 
 
 Till we get there, save raw polonies :
 
 DOVER TO MUNICH. 55 
 
 Until at last the " gray old pile '' 
 
 Is seen, is past, and three hours later 
 
 We're ordering steaks, and talking vile 
 Mock-German to an Austrian waiter. 
 
 Konigswinter, hateful Konigswintor ! 
 
 Burying-place of all I loved so well ! 
 Never did the most extensive printer 
 
 Print a tale so dark as thou could'st tell ! 
 
 In the sapphire West the eve yet lingered. 
 Bathed in kindly light those hill-tops cold; 
 
 Fringed each cloud, and, stooping rosy-fingered. 
 Changed Rhine's waters into molten gold ; — 
 
 While still nearer did his light waves splinter 
 Into silvery shafts the streaming light ; 
 
 And I said I loved thee, Konigswinter, 
 For the glory that was thine that night. 
 
 And we gazed, till slowly disappearing, 
 
 Like a day-dream, passed the pageant by. 
 
 And I saw but those lone hills, upr earing 
 Dull dark shapes against a hueless sky.
 
 56 DOVER TO MUNICH. 
 
 Then I turned, and on those bright hopes pondered 
 Whereof yon gay fancies were the type ; 
 
 And my hand mechanically wandered 
 
 Towards my left-hand pocket for a pipe. 
 
 Ah ! why starts each eyeball from its socket, 
 As, in Hamlet, start the guilty Queen^s ? 
 
 There, deep-hid in its accustomed pocket, 
 Lay my sole pipe, smashed to smithereens ! 
 
 On, on the vessel steals ; 
 Round go the paddle-wheels, 
 And now the tourist feels 
 
 As he should ; 
 For king-like rolls the Rhine, 
 And the scenery's divine. 
 And the victuals and the wine 
 
 Rather o-ood. 
 
 o 
 
 From every crag we pass ^11 
 Rise up some hoar old castle ; 
 The hanging fir-groves tassel 
 Every slope ;
 
 DOVER TO MUNICH. 
 
 And the vine her lithe arm stretches 
 Over peasants singing- catches — 
 And you^ll make no end of sketches, 
 I shoukl hope. 
 
 WeVe a nun here (called Therese) , 
 Two couriers out of place, 
 One Yankee with a face 
 
 Like a ferret's : 
 And three youths in scarlet caps 
 Drinking chocolate and schnapps — 
 A diet which perhaps 
 
 Has its merits. 
 
 And day again declines : 
 In shadow sleep the vines, 
 And the last ray thi'o' the pines 
 
 Feebly glows, 
 Then sinks behind yon ridge ; 
 And the usual evening midge 
 Is settling on the bridge 
 
 Of my nose.
 
 58 DOVER TO MUNICH. 
 
 And keen 's the air and cold, 
 And the sheep are in the fold, 
 And Night walks sable-stoled 
 
 Thro' the ti'ees ; 
 And on the silent river 
 The floating starbeams quiver j- 
 And now, the saints deliver 
 
 Us from fleas. 
 
 Avenues of broad white houses. 
 Basking in the noontide glare ; — 
 
 Streets, which foot of traveller shrinks from, 
 As on hot plates shrinks the bear ; — 
 
 Elsewhere lawns, and vista'd gardens, 
 Statues white, and cool arcades, 
 
 AVhere at eve the German warrior 
 Winks upon the German maids ; — 
 
 Such is Munich : — broad and stately. 
 
 Rich of hue, and fair of form ; 
 But, towards the end of August, 
 
 Unequivocally varm.
 
 DOVER TO MUNICH. 69 
 
 There, the long dim galleries threading, 
 
 May the artist's eye behold 
 Breathing from the " deathless canvass " 
 
 Records of the years of old : 
 
 Pallas there, and Jove, and Juno, 
 
 " Take" once more their " walks abroad," 
 
 Under Titian's fiery woodlands 
 And the safiFron skies of Claude : 
 
 There the Amazons of Rubens 
 
 Lift the failing arm to strike, 
 And the pale light falls in masses 
 
 On the horsemen of Vandyke ; 
 
 And in Berghem's pools reflected 
 
 Hang the cattle's graceful shapes, 
 And Murillo's soft boy-faces 
 
 Laugh amid the Seville grapes ; 
 
 And all purest, loveliest fancies 
 
 That in poets' souls may dwell 
 Started into shape and substance 
 
 At the touch of Raphael.
 
 60 DOVER TO MUNICH. 
 
 Lo ! her wan arms folded meekly, 
 
 And the glory of her hair 
 Falling as a robe around her, 
 
 Kneels the Magdalen in prayer ; 
 
 And the white-robed Virgin-mother 
 Smiles, as centuries back she smiled, 
 
 Half in gladness, half in wonder, 
 On the calm face of her Child : — 
 
 And that mighty Judgment-vision 
 Tells how man essayed to climb 
 
 Up the ladder of the ages, 
 
 Past the frontier- walls of Time ; 
 
 Heard the trumpet-echoes rolling 
 
 Thro^ the phantom-peopled sky, 
 
 And the still voice bid this mortal 
 
 Put on immortality. 
 
 * * * * 
 
 Thence we turned, what time the blackbird 
 Pipes to vespers from his perch. 
 
 And from out the clattering city 
 Passed into the silent church :
 
 DOVER TO MUNICH. 61 
 
 Mark'd the shower of sunlight breaking 
 Thro^ the crimson panes overhead, 
 
 And on pictured wall and window 
 Read the histories of the dead : 
 
 Till the kneelers round us, rising, 
 
 Crossed their foreheads and were gone ; 
 
 And o^er aisle and arch and cornice, 
 Layer on layer, the night came on.
 
 CHARADES. 
 I. 
 
 QHE stood at Greenwich, motionless amid 
 The ever-shifting crowd of passengers. 
 
 I markM a big tear quivering on the lid 
 
 Of her deep-lustrous eye, and knew that hers 
 Were days of bitterness. But, "Oh! what stirs,'' 
 
 I said, '' such storm within so fair a breast V 
 Even as I spoke, two apoplectic curs 
 
 Came feebly up : with one wild cry she prest 
 
 Each singly to her heart, and faltered, '' Heaven 
 be blest ! '^ 
 
 Yet once again I saw her, from the deck 
 
 Of a black ship that steamed towards Blackwall. 
 
 She walked upon mi/ first. Her stately neck 
 Bent o'er an object shrouded in her shawl : 
 
 4
 
 CHARADES. 63 
 
 I could not see the tears — the glad tears — fall. 
 Yet knew they fell. And ''Ah," I said, ''not 
 puppies, 
 
 Seen unexpectedly, could lift the pall 
 From hearts who hioiu what tasting misery's cup is 
 As Niobe's, or mine, or blighted William Guppy^s/' 
 
 Spake John Grogblossom the coachman to Eliza 
 
 Spinks the cook : 
 " Mrs. Spinks,^^ says he, " I've foundered : 'Liza 
 
 dear, I'm overtook. 
 Druv into a corner reglar, puzzled as a babe unborn ; 
 Speak the word, my blessed 'Liza ; speak, and John 
 
 the coachman's yourn. 
 
 }} 
 
 Then Eliza Spinks made answer, blushing, to the 
 
 coachman John : 
 " John, I'm born and bred a spinster : I've begun 
 
 and I'll go on. 
 Endless cares and endless worrits, well I knows it, 
 
 has a wife : 
 Cooking for a genteel family, John, it's a goluptious 
 
 life!
 
 64 CHARADES. 
 
 '' I gets £20 per annum — tea and things o' course 
 
 not reckoned, — 
 There^s a cat that eats the butter, takes the coals, 
 
 and breaks "tnij second : 
 There^s society — James the footman ; — (not that I 
 
 look after him ; 
 But he's afi^ble in his manners, with amazing length 
 
 of limb ;) — 
 
 " Never durst the missis enter here until I've said 
 
 ' Come in ' : 
 If I saw the master peeping, I'd catch up the 
 
 rolling-pin. 
 Christmas-boxes, that's a something ; perkisites, 
 
 that's something too ; 
 And I think, take all together, John, I won't be on 
 
 with you." 
 
 John the coachman took his hat up, for he thought 
 
 he'd had enough ; 
 Rubb'd an elongated forehead with a meditative 
 
 cuff;
 
 CHARADES. 65 
 
 o 
 
 Paused before the stable doorway ; said^ when there, 
 
 in accents mild, 
 " She^s a fine young 'oman, cook is ; but that's 
 
 where it is, she's spiled/" 
 
 I have read in some not marvellous tale, 
 
 (Or if I have not, I've dreamed) 
 Of one who filled up the convivial cup 
 
 Till the company round him seemed 
 
 To be vanished and gone, tho' the lamps upon 
 
 Their face as aforetime gleamed : 
 And his head sunk down, and a Lethe crept 
 O'er his powerful brain, and the young man slept. 
 
 Then they laid him with care in his moonlit bed : 
 But first — having thoughtfully fetched some tar — 
 
 Adorn'd him with feathers, aware that the weather's 
 Uncertainty brings on at nights catarrh. 
 
 They staid in his room till the sun was high : 
 But still did the feathered one give no sign 
 II. 1
 
 66 CHARADES. 
 
 Of opening a peeper — he might be a sleeper 
 
 Such as rests on the Northern or Midland line. 
 
 At last he woke, and with profound 
 Bewilderment he gazed around ; 
 Dropped one, then both feet to the ground. 
 But never spake a word : 
 
 Then to mif tvhole he made his way ; 
 Took one long lingering survey ; 
 And softly, as he stole away. 
 
 Remarked, " By Jove, a bird ! "
 
 II. 
 
 TF youVe seen a short man swagger tow'rds the 
 footlights at Shoreditch, 
 
 Sing out " Heave aho ! my hearties/^ and per- 
 petually hitch 
 
 Up, by an ingenious movement, trousers innocent 
 of brace, 
 
 Briskly flourishing a cudgel in his pleased com- 
 panion's face ; 
 
 If he preluded with hornpipes each successive thing- 
 he did, 
 
 From a sun-browned cheek extracting still an os- 
 tentatious quid ; 
 
 And expectorated freely, and occasionally cursed : — 
 
 Then have you beheld, depicted by a master^s hand, 
 'iny first.
 
 68 CHARADES. 
 
 O my countryman ! if ever from thy arm the bolster 
 sped, 
 
 In thy school-days, with precision at a young com- 
 panion's head ; 
 
 If 'twas thine to lodge the marble in the centre of 
 the ring, 
 
 Or with well-directed pebble make the sitting hen 
 take wing : 
 
 Then do thou — each fair May morning, when the 
 
 blue lake is as glass. 
 And the gossamers are twinkling star-like in the 
 
 beaded grass ; 
 When the mountain-bee is sipping fragrance from 
 
 the bluebell's lip. 
 And the bathing- woman tells you, '^ Now's your 
 
 time to take a dip " : 
 
 When along the misty valleys fieldward winds the 
 
 lowing herd. 
 And the early worm is being dropped on by the 
 
 early bird ;
 
 CHARADES. 69 
 
 And Aurora hangs her jewels from the bending 
 
 rose's cup. 
 And the myriad voice of Nature calls thee to my 
 
 second up : — 
 
 Hie thee to the breezy common, where the melan- 
 choly goose 
 
 Stalks, and the astonished donkey finds that he is 
 really loose ; 
 
 There amid e-reen fern and furze-bush shalt thou 
 soon my ivhole behold, 
 
 Rising ^'bull-eyed and majestic" — as Olympus' queen 
 of old : 
 
 Kneel, — at a respectful distance, — as they kneeled 
 
 to her, and try 
 With judicious hand to put a ball into that ball-less 
 
 eye: 
 Till a stiffness seize thy elbows, and the general 
 
 public wake — 
 Then return, and, clear of conscience, walk into 
 
 thy well-earned steak.
 
 « 
 
 III. 
 
 T7^ EE yet " knowledge for the million " 
 
 Came out '' neatly bound in boards " ; 
 When like Care upon a pillion 
 
 Matrons rode behind their lords : 
 Rarely, save to hear the Rector, 
 
 Forth did younger ladies roam ; 
 Making pies, and brewing nectar 
 
 From the gooseberry-trees at home. 
 
 TheyM not dreamed of Pau or Vevay ; 
 
 Ne'er should into blossom burst 
 At the ball or at the levee ; 
 
 Never come, in fact, my first : 
 Nor illumine cards by dozens 
 
 With some labyrinthine text, 
 Nor work smoking-caps for cousins 
 
 Who were pounding at ony next.
 
 CHARADES. 71 
 
 Now have skirts, and minds, grown ampler ; 
 
 Now not all they seek to do 
 Is create upon a sampler 
 
 Beasts which BuflFon never knew : 
 But their venturous muslins rustle 
 
 O'er the cragstone and the snow, 
 Or at home their biceps muscle 
 
 Grows by practising the bow. 
 
 Worthy they those dames who, fable 
 
 Says, rode " palfreys '' to the war 
 With some giant Thane, whose " sable 
 
 Destrier caracoled " before ; 
 Smiled, as — springing from the war-horse 
 
 As men spring in modern " cirques " — 
 He plunged, ponderous as a four-horse 
 
 Coach, among the vanished Turks : — 
 
 In the good times when the jester 
 Asked the monarch how he was. 
 
 And the landlady addrest her 
 
 Guests as '^ gossip " or as " coz " ;
 
 72 CHARADES. 
 
 When the Templar said, '' Gramercy/' 
 Or, " 'Twas shrewdly thrust, i' fegs/ 
 
 To Sir Halbert or Sir Percy 
 
 As they knocked him off his legs : 
 
 And, by way of mild reminders 
 
 That he needed coin, the Knight 
 Day by day extracted grinders 
 
 From the howling Israelite : 
 And my ivhole in merry Sherwood 
 
 Sent, with preterhuman luck. 
 Missiles — not of steel but firwood — 
 
 Thro' the two-mile-distant buck. 

 
 IV. 
 
 T?VENINC4 threw soberer hue 
 
 Over the blue sky, and the few 
 Poplars that grew just in the view 
 Of the hall of Sir Hugo de Wynkle : 
 
 " Answer me true/' pleaded Sir Hugh, 
 (Striving some hardhearted maiden to woo,) 
 " What shall I do, Lady, for you ? 
 'Twill be done, ere your eye may twinkle. 
 Shall I borrow the wand of a Moorish enchanter. 
 And bid a decanter contain the Levant, or 
 The brass from the face of a Mormonite ranter ? 
 Shall I go for the mule of the Spanish Infantar — 
 (That r, for the sake of the line^ we must grant 
 
 her,) — 
 And race with the foul fiend, and beat in a canter. 
 Like that first of equestrians Tam o' Shanter ?
 
 74 CHARADES. 
 
 I talk not mere banter — say not that I can't^ or 
 By this my first — (a Virginia planter 
 Sold it me to kill rats) — I will die instanter.'^ 
 The Lady bended her ivory neck, and 
 Whispered mournfully, " Go for — my second." 
 She said, and the red from Sir Hugh's cheek 
 
 fled, 
 And " Nay,'' did he say, as he stalked away 
 
 The fiercest of injured men : 
 " Twice have I humbled my haughty soul. 
 And on bended knee have I pressed my whole — 
 But I never will press it again ! "
 
 V. 
 
 r^N pinnacled St. Mary's 
 
 Lingers the setting sun ; 
 Into the streets the blackguards 
 
 Are skulking one by one : 
 Butcher and Boots and Bargeman 
 
 Lay pipe and pewter down ; 
 And with wild shout couie tumbling- out 
 
 To join the Town and Gown. 
 
 And now the undergraduates 
 
 Come forth by twos and threes. 
 From the broad tower of Trinity, 
 
 From the green gate of Caius : 
 The wily bargeman marks them. 
 
 And swears to do his worst ; 
 To turn to impotence their strength, 
 
 And their beauty to my first.
 
 7Q CHARADES. 
 
 But before Corpus gateway 
 
 My second first arose. 
 When Barnacles the Freshman 
 
 Was pinned upon the nose : 
 Pinned on the nose by Boxer^ 
 
 Who brought a hobnailed herd 
 From Barnwell, where he kept a van. 
 Being indeed a dogsmeat man. 
 Vendor of terriers, blue or tan. 
 
 And dealer in my third. 
 
 'Twere long to tell how Boxer 
 
 Was " countered " on the cheek. 
 And knocked into the middle 
 
 Of the ensuing week : 
 How Barnacles the Freshman 
 
 Was asked his name and college ; 
 And how he did the fatal facts 
 
 Reluctantly acknowledge. 
 
 He called upon the Proctor 
 Next day at half-past ten ; 
 
 Men whispered that the Freshman cut 
 A different figure then : —
 
 CHARADES. 77 
 
 That the brass forsook his forehead, 
 
 The iron fled his soul, 
 As with blanched lip and visage wan 
 Before the stony-hearted Don 
 
 He kneeled upon my whole.
 
 VI. 
 
 QIKES, housebreaker, of Houndsditch, 
 
 Habitually swore ; 
 But so surpassingly profane 
 
 He never was before, 
 As on a night in winter. 
 
 When — softly as he stole 
 In the dim light from stair to stair. 
 Noiseless as boys who in her lair 
 Seek to surprise a fat old hare — 
 He barked his shinbone, unaware 
 
 Encountering my ivhole. 
 
 As pours the Anio plain ward. 
 
 When rains have swollen the dykes.
 
 CHARADES. 79- 
 
 So, with such noise, poured down my first 
 
 Stirred by the shins of Sikes. 
 The Butler Bibulus heard it ; 
 
 And straightway ceased to snore. 
 And sat up, like an egg on end, 
 
 While men might count a score : 
 Then spake he to Tigerius, 
 
 A Buttons bold was he : 
 " Buttons, I think there^s thieves about ; 
 Just strike a light and tumble out ; 
 If you can^t find one go without, 
 
 And see what you may see. 
 
 >} 
 
 But now was all the household. 
 
 Almost, upon its legs. 
 Each treading carefully about 
 
 As if they trod on eggs. 
 With robe far-streaming issued 
 
 Paterfamilias forth ; 
 And close behind him, — stout and true 
 
 And tender as the North, — 
 Came Mrs. P., supporting 
 
 On her broad arm her fourth.
 
 80 CHARADES. 
 
 Betsy the nurse, who never 
 
 From largest beetle ran, 
 And — conscious p'raps of pleasing caps — 
 
 The housemaids, formed the van : 
 And Bibulus the butler, 
 
 His calm brows slightly arched ; 
 (No mortal wight had ere that night 
 
 Seen him with shirt unstarched ;) 
 And Bob the shockhaired knifeboy. 
 
 Wielding two Sheffield blades. 
 And James Plush of the sinewy legs, 
 
 The love of lady's maids : 
 And charwoman and chaplain 
 
 Stood mingled in a mass, 
 And '^ Things," thought he of Houndsditch, 
 
 " Is comd to a pretty pass." 
 
 Beyond all things a baby 
 
 Is to the schoolgirl dear ; 
 Next to herself the nursemaid loves 
 
 Her dashing grenadier ; 
 Only with life the sailor 
 
 Parts from the British flag ;
 
 CHARADES. 81 
 
 While one hope lingers, the cracksman's fingers 
 Drop not his hard-earned swag. 
 
 But, as hares do my second 
 Thro^ green Calabria's copses, 
 
 As females vanish at the sight 
 Of short-horns and of wopses ; 
 
 So, dropping forks and teaspoons. 
 The pride of Houndsditch fled, 
 
 Dumbfoundered by the hue and cry 
 
 He'd raised up overhead. 
 
 ***** 
 
 They gave him — did the judges — 
 
 As much as was his due. 
 And, Saxon, shouldst thou e'er be led 
 
 To deem this tale untrue ; 
 Then — any night in winter, 
 
 When the cold north wind blows, 
 And bairns are told to keep out cold 
 
 By tallowing the nose : 
 When round the fire the elders 
 
 Are gathered in a bunch, 
 II. G
 
 82 CHARADES. 
 
 And the girls are doing crochet, 
 
 And the boys ai*e reading Punch : — 
 Go thou and h^ok in Leech's book ; 
 
 There haply shalt thou spy 
 A stout man on a staircase stand, 
 With aspect anything but bland, 
 And rub his right shin with his hand. 
 To witness if I lie.
 
 PROVERBIAL PHILOSOPHY, 
 ^ntrotiurtorg. 
 
 A RT thou beautiful^ my daughter, as the 
 
 budding rose of April ? 
 Are all thy motions music, and is poetry throned in 
 
 thine eye ? 
 Then hearken unto me ; and I will make the bud a 
 
 fair flower, 
 I will plant it upon the bank of Elegance, and water 
 
 it with the water of Cologne ; 
 And in the season it shall " come out/^ yea bloom, 
 
 the pride of the parterre ; 
 Ladies shall marvel at its beauty, and a Lord shall 
 
 pluck it at the last.
 
 84 PROVERBIAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 <©f yropriftj). 
 
 Study first Propriety : for slie is indeed the Pole- 
 star 
 
 Which shall guide the artless maiden through the 
 mazes of Vanity Fair ; 
 
 Nay, she is the golden chain which holdeth together 
 Society ; 
 
 The lamp by whose light young Psyche shall ap- 
 proach unblamed her Eros. 
 
 Verily Truth is as Eve, which was ashamed being 
 naked ; 
 
 Wherefore doth Propriety dress her with the fair 
 foliage of artifice : 
 
 And when she is drest, behold ! she knoweth not 
 herself again. — 
 
 I walked in the Forest; and above me stood the 
 Yew, 
 
 Stood like a slumbering giant, shrouded in impene- 
 trable shade; 
 
 Then I passM into the citizen's garden, and marked 
 a tree dipt into shape.
 
 PROVERBIAL PHILOSOPHY. 86 
 
 (The giant's locks had been shorn by the Dalilah- 
 shears of Decorum ;) 
 
 And I said^ " Surely Nature is goodly ; but how 
 much goodlier is Art ! " 
 
 I heard the wild notes of the lark floating far over 
 the blue sky, 
 
 And my foolish heart went after him, and, lo ! I 
 blessed him as he rose ; 
 
 Foolish ! for far better is the trained boudoir bullfinch, 
 
 Which pipeth the semblance of a tune, and me- 
 chanically draweth up water : 
 
 And the reinless steed of the desert, though his 
 neck be clothed with thunder. 
 
 Must yield to him that danceth and '' moveth in the 
 circles ". at Astley's. 
 
 For verily, my daughter, the world is a mas- 
 querade. 
 
 And God made thee one thing, that thou mightest 
 make thyself another : 
 
 A maiden's heart is as champagne, ever aspiring 
 and struggling upwards. 
 
 And it needed that its motions be checked by the 
 silvered cork of Propriety :
 
 86 PROVERBIAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 He that can afford the price, his be the precious 
 
 treasure, 
 Let him drink deeply of its sweetness, nor grumble 
 
 if it tasteth of the cork. 
 
 Choose judiciously thy friends; for to discard them 
 
 is undesirable. 
 Yet it is better to drop thy friends, my daughter, 
 
 than to drop thy H's. 
 Dost thou know a wise woman ? yea, wiser than the 
 
 children of light ? 
 Hath she a position ? and a title ? and are her 
 
 parties in the Morning Post ? 
 If thou dost, cleave unto her, and give up unto her 
 
 thy body and mind ; 
 Think with her ideas, and distribute thy smiles at 
 
 her bidding : 
 So shalt thou become like unto her ; and thy man- 
 ners shall be " formed,^^
 
 PROVERBIAL PHILOSOPHY. 87 
 
 And thy name shall be a Sesame, at which the doors 
 
 of the great shall fly open : 
 Thou shalt know every Peer, his arras, and the date 
 
 of his creation. 
 His pedigree and their intermarriages, and cousins 
 
 to the sixth remove : 
 Thou shalt kiss the hand of Royalty, and lo ! in 
 
 next morning^s papers. 
 Side by side with rumours of wars, and stories of 
 
 shipwrecks and sieges. 
 Shall appear thy name, and the minutige of thy 
 
 head-dress and petticoat. 
 For an enraptured public to muse upon over their 
 
 matutinal muffin. 
 
 Read not Milton, for he is dry ; nor Shakespeare, 
 
 for he wrote of common life : 
 Nor Scott, for his romances, though fascinating, are 
 
 yet intelligible :
 
 88 PROVERBIAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 Nor Thackeray, for he is a Hogarth, a photographer 
 
 who flattereth not : 
 Nor Kingsley, for he shall teach thee that thou 
 
 shouldest not dream, but do. 
 Eead incessantly thy Burke ; that Burke who, nobler 
 
 than he of old, 
 Treateth of the Peer and Peeress, the truly Sublime 
 
 and Beautiful : 
 Likewise study the '' creations " of " the Prince of 
 
 modern Romance ; " 
 Sigh over Leonard the Martyr, and smile on Pelham 
 
 the puppy : 
 Learn how "love is the dram-drinking of existence;'^ 
 And how we " invoke, in the Gadara of our still 
 
 closets. 
 The beautiful ghost of the Ideal, with the simple 
 
 wand of the pen.^^ 
 Listen how Maltravers and the orphan " forgot all 
 
 but love," 
 And how Devereux's family chaplain " made and 
 
 unmade kings : " 
 How Eugene Aram, though a thief, a liar, and a 
 
 murderer,
 
 PROVERBIAL PHILOSOPHY. 89 
 
 Yetj being intellectual, was amongst the noblest of 
 
 mankind. 
 So shalt thou live in a world peopled with heroes 
 
 and master-spirits ; 
 And if thou canst not realize the Ideal, thou shalt 
 
 at least idealize the Real.
 
 CARMEN S^CULARE. 
 
 MDCCCLIII. 
 
 " Qnicqiiid aount homines, nostri est fixi-rago libelli." 
 
 A CRTS hyems jam venit : hyems genus omne 
 perosa 
 Foemineum, et senibus glacies non eequa rotundis : 
 Apparent rari stantes in tramite glauco ; 
 Radit iter, cogitque nives, sua tela, juventus. 
 Trux matrona ruit, multos dominata per annos, 
 Digna iudigna miuans, glomeratque volumina 
 
 crurum ; 
 Parte senex alia, preerepto forte galero, 
 Per plateas baccliatur ; eum cliorus omuis agrestum 
 Ridet anliolantem frusti-a, et jam jaraque tenentem 
 Quod petit ; illud aguntventi prensumqueresorbent. 
 Post, ubi compositus tandem votique potitus
 
 CARMEN S^CULARE. 91 
 
 Sedit humi ; flet crura tuens nive Candida lenta, 
 Et vestem laceram, et venturas conjugis iras : 
 Itque domum tendens duplices ad sidera palmas, 
 Corda miser, desiderio perfixa galeri. 
 
 At juvenis (sed cruda viro viridisque juventus) 
 Qugerit bacciferas, tunica pendente/ tabernas : 
 Pervigil ecce Baco furva depromit ab area 
 Splendidius quiddam solito, plenumque saporem 
 Laudat, et antiqua jurat de stirpe Jamaic^e. 
 O fumose puer, nimium ne crede Baconi : 
 Manillas vocat ; hoc prsetexit nomine caules. 
 
 Te vevo, cui forte dedit maturior astas 
 Scire potestates lierbarum, te quoque quanti 
 Circumstent casus, paucis (adverte) docebo, 
 Prascipue, sen raptat amor te simplicis herbse/ 
 Seu potius tenui Musam meditaris avena, 
 Procuratorem fugito, nam ferreus idem est. 
 
 turned pendente: h.e. " suspensa e brachio." Quod procii- 
 ratoribus illis valde, \\t fenint, displicebat. Dicunt ^-ero 
 morem a barbaris tract luu, urbem Bosporiara in ll. Iside 
 habitantibns. Bacciferas tabernas: id q. nostri Aocant 
 " tobacco-shops." 
 
 Jierbcs — avend. Duo quasi genera artis poeta videtur 
 distinguere. " Weed." " pipe," recte Scab'ger.
 
 92 CARMEN S^CULARE. 
 
 Vita semiboves catulos^ redimicula vita 
 Candida : de cceIo descendit mote aeavrov. 
 Xube vaporis item conspergere praeter euntes 
 Jura vetant, notumque furens quid femina possit : 
 Odit enim dulces succos anus, odit odorem ; 
 Odit Lethjei diffusa volumina furai. 
 
 Mille modis reliqui fugiuntque feruntque laborem. 
 Hie vir ad Eleos, pedibus talaria gestans, 
 Fervidus it latices, et nil acquirit eundo : ' 
 Ille petit virides (sed non e gramine) mensas, 
 Pollicitus meliora patri, tormentaque ^ flexus 
 Per labyrintheos plus quam mortalia tentat. 
 Acre tuens, loculisque pilas immittit et aufert. 
 
 Sunt alii, quos frigus aquge, tenuisque pliaselus 
 Captat, et gequali surgentes ordine remi. 
 His edura cutis, nee ligno rasile tergura ; 
 
 ^ nil acquirit enndo. Aqna enim aspera, et radentibus 
 parum babilis. Immersum hie aliquem et vix aut ne vix 
 quidem extractum refert scbol. 
 
 ^ tormenta p. q. mortalia. Elegautei", ut solet, Peile, " un- 
 earthly cannons." (Cf. Ainsw. D. s. v.) Perrecondita autem 
 est quaestio de lusubus illorum temporum, neque in Smithii 
 Diet. Class, satis elucidata. Consule omniiio Kentf. de Bill. 
 Loculis, bene vertas " pockets."
 
 CARMEN S^CULARE. 93 
 
 Par saxi sinus : esca boves cum robore Bassi. 
 Tollunt in numerum fera bracliia, vique feruntur 
 Per fluctus : sonuere vite clamore secundo : 
 At picea de puppe fremens iinmane bubulcus 
 Invocat exitium cunctis, et verbera rapto 
 Stipite defessis onerat graviora caballis. 
 
 Nil liumoris egent alii. Labor arva vagari. 
 Plectere ludus equos, et amantem devia^ currum. 
 Nosco purpureas vestes, clangentia nosco 
 Signa tubae^ et caudas inter virgulta cauinas. 
 Stat -venator equus, tactoque ferocior armo 
 Surgit in arrectum, vix auditurus liabenam ; 
 Et jam prata fuga superat^ jam flumina saltu. 
 Aspicias alios ab iniqua sepe rotari 
 In caput, ut scrobibus quee sint fastigia quaerant ; 
 Eque rubis aut amne pigro trahere humida crura, 
 Et foedam faciem, defloccatumque galerum. 
 
 Sanctius his animal, cui quadra visse rotundum^ 
 
 ' amantem devia. Quorsiun lioc, quarunt Interpretes. 
 Suspicor equidem respiciendos, vv. 19 — 23, de procurato- 
 ribus. 
 
 " quadr. rot'". — Cami ard. im". Quadi-ando enim rotun_ 
 dum (Ang. "squaring the circle") Camum accendere, juvenes
 
 94 CARMEN S^CULARE. 
 
 Mus£e suadet amor, Camique ardentis imago, 
 Inspicat calamos contracta fronte malignos, 
 Perque Mathematicum pelagus, loca tm^bida, an- 
 
 helat. 
 Circum dirus '^ Hymers/' nee pondus inutile, 
 
 " Lignum, ^^ 
 " Salmoque,'' et puei'is tu detestate, " Colenso," 
 Horribiles visu formse ; liven te notatfe 
 Ungue omnes, omnes insignes aura canina.^ 
 Fervet opus ; tacitum pertentant gaudia pectus 
 Tutorum ; " pulchrumque mori,'"' dixei'e, " legendo/^ 
 
 Nee vero juvenes facere omnes omnia possunt. 
 Atque unum memini ipse, deus qui dictus amicis, 
 Et multum referens de rixatore^ secundo, 
 Nocte terens ulnas ac scrinia, solus in alto 
 Degebat tripode ; arcta viro vilisque supellex ; 
 Et sic torva tuens, pedibus per mutua nexis, 
 Sedit, lacte mero mentem mulcente tenellam. 
 Et fors ad summos tandem venisset honores ; 
 
 ingenui semper nitebantnr. Fecisse vero quemquam uoix 
 
 liquet. 
 
 ^ rure canind. Itei'um audi Peile, " dog's-eared." 
 
 ^ rixatore. non male Heins. cum Aldina, "wrangler."
 
 CARMEN S^CULARE. 95 
 
 Sed rapidi juvenes, quels gratior usus equorum, 
 Subveniunt, siccoque vetant inolescere libro. 
 Improbus hos Lectoi' pueros, mcntumque virili 
 LaeviuSj et durse gravat inclementia Mortis :^ 
 Suetos (agmen iners) , aliena vivere quadra/ 
 Et lituo vexare viros, calcare caballos. 
 Tales mane novo scepe admiramur euntes 
 Torquibus in rigidis et pelle Libystidis ursae ; 
 Admiramur opus"' tunicfe, vestemque' sororem 
 Iridis, et crurum non enan-abile tegmen. 
 Hos inter comites implebat pocula sorbis 
 Infelix puer, et sese recreabat ad igncm, 
 
 ' Mortis. Verbuni geiierali fere sen.su dictum inveni. 
 Suspicor autein poetam viruni (piendam iininisse, qui cunnis, 
 caliallos, id genus omne, mercede non miniuia locaret. 
 
 " aliena quadra. Sunt qui de pileis Aoademicis accipiunt. 
 Rapidiores eniin suas fere amittebant. Sed judicet sibi 
 lector. 
 
 ^ opus tU7iic(B, " sliirt-work." Alii opes. Perperam. 
 
 ^ vestem. Nota proprietatem verbi. " Vest," enim apud 
 politos id. q. vulgo " waistcoat " appellatur. Quod et femina? 
 usurpabant, ut hodiernje, fibula revinctum, teste Virgilio : 
 
 " ci'ines nodantur in aurum, 
 Aurea purpuream subnectit fibula vestem."
 
 96 CARMEN S^CULARE. 
 
 " EvoE, ^Basse/^ fremens : dum velox prteterit astas ; 
 Venit summa dies ; et Junior Optimus exit. 
 
 Saucius at juvenis nota intra tecta refugit, 
 Horrendura ridens, lucemque miserrimus odit : 
 Informem famulus laqueum pendentiaque ossa 
 Mane ^adet, refugitque feri meminisse magistri. 
 
 Di nobis nieliora ! Modum re servat in omni 
 Qui sapit : baud ilium semper recubare sub umbra^ 
 Haud semper madidis juvat impallescere chartis. 
 Nos numerus sumus, et libros consumere nati ; 
 Sed requies sit rebus ; amant alterna CamenEe. 
 Nocte dieque legaa, cum tertius advenit annus : 
 Turn libros cape; claude fores, et prandia defer. 
 Quartus venit : ini/ rebus jam rite paratis, 
 Exultans, et coge gradum conferre magistros. 
 
 His animadversis, fugies immane Barathrum. 
 His, operose puer, si qua fata aspera rumpas, 
 Tu rixator eris. Saltem non crebra revises 
 
 ^ Basse, eft. Interpretes illud Horatianum, " Bassuui 
 Threicia vincat amystide." Non perspexere viri docti alte- 
 runi hie alludi, Anglicanse originis, neque ilium, ut perhibent, 
 a potii aversum. 
 
 " Int. Sie iiostri, " Go in and win." rebus, " subjects."
 
 CARMEN S^CULARE. 97 
 
 Ad stabulum/ et tota moerens carpere juventa ; 
 Classe nee amisso nil profectura dolentem 
 Tradet ludibriis te plena leporis Hirudo.^ 
 
 crehra r. a. stabulum. " Turn w^ year after year at the 
 old diggings, (i.e. the Senate House,) and be plucked," etc. 
 Peile. Quo quid jejunius? 
 
 Classe — Hii'udo. Obscurior allusio ad picturam quan- 
 dam (in collectione viri, vel plusquam viri, Punchii repositam,) 
 in qua juvenis custodem stationis moerens alloquitur. 
 
 11. H
 
 FLY LEAVES
 
 4 
 MORNING. 
 
 ' '^piS the hour when white-horsed Day 
 Chases Night her mares away ; 
 
 When the Gates of Dawn (they say) 
 Phoebus opes : 
 
 And I gather that the Queen 
 
 May be uniformly seen. 
 
 Should the weather be serene, 
 On the slopes. 
 
 When the ploughman, as he goes 
 Leathern-gaitered o^er the snows. 
 From his hat and from his nose 
 
 Knocks the ice ; 
 And the panes are frosted o^er. 
 And the lawn is crisp and hoar.
 
 102 MORNING. 
 
 As has been observed before 
 Once or twice. 
 
 When arrayed in breastplate red 
 Sings the robin, for his bread, 
 On the elmtree that h^h shed 
 
 Every leaf; 
 While, within, the frost benumbs 
 The still sleepy schoolboy^s thumbs. 
 And in consequence his sums 
 
 Come to grief. 
 
 But when breakfast-time hath come. 
 And he^s crunching crust and crumb, 
 He^U no longer look a glum 
 
 Little dunce ; 
 But be brisk as bees that settle 
 On a summer rose^s petal : 
 Wherefore, Polly, put the kettle 
 
 On at once.
 
 EVENING. 
 
 TT^ATE ! if e'er thy light foot lingers 
 On the lawn^ when up the fells 
 Steals the Dark, and fairy fingers 
 
 Close unseen the pimpernels : 
 When, his thighs with sweetness laden, 
 
 From the meadow comes the bee, 
 And the lover and the maiden 
 
 Stand beneath the trysting tree : — 
 
 Lingers on, till stars unnumber'd 
 Tremble in the breeze- swept tarn, 
 
 And the bat that all day slumbered 
 Flits about the lonely barn ; 
 
 And the shapes that shrink from garish 
 Noon are peopling cairn and lea ;
 
 104 EVENING. 
 
 And thy sire is almost bearish 
 If kept waiting for his tea : — 
 
 And the screech-owl scares the peasant 
 
 As he skirts some churchyard drear ; 
 And the goblins whisper pleasant 
 
 Tales in Miss Rossetti's ear ; 
 Importuning her in strangest, 
 
 Sweetest tones to buy their fruits : — 
 be careful that thou changest, 
 
 On returning home, thy boots.
 
 SHELTER. 
 
 T) Y the wide lake's margin I marked her lie — 
 The wide^ weird lake where the alders sigh — 
 A young fair things with a shy, soft eye ; 
 
 And I deem'd that her thoughts had flown 
 To her home, and her brethren, and sisters dear. 
 As she lay there watching the dark, deep mere. 
 All motionless, all alone. 
 
 Then I heard a noise, as of men and boys. 
 
 And a boisterous troop drew nigh. 
 Whither now will retreat those fairy feet ? 
 
 Where hide till the storm pass by ? 
 One glance — the wild glance of a hunted thing — 
 She cast behind her ; she gave one spring ; 
 And there followed a splash and a broadening ring 
 
 On the lake where the alders sigh.
 
 106 SHELTER. 
 
 She had gone from the ken of ungentle men ! 
 
 Yet scarce did I mourn for that ; 
 For I knew she was safe in her own home then, 
 And, the danger past, would appear again, 
 
 For she was a water-rat.
 
 IN THE GLOAMING. 
 
 TN the Gloaming to be roaming, where the crested 
 waves are foaming, 
 And the shy mermaidens combing locks that 
 ripple to their feet ; 
 When the Gloaming is, I never made the ghost of 
 an endeavom- 
 To discover — but whatever were the hour, it 
 would be sweet. 
 
 '' To their feet,^' I say, for Leeches sketch indis- 
 putably teaches 
 That the mermaids of our beaches do not end in 
 ugly tails. 
 
 Nor have homes among the corals ; but are shod 
 with neat balmorals,
 
 108 IN" THE GLOAMING. 
 
 An arraBgement no one quarrels with, as many- 
 might with scales. 
 
 Sweet to roam beneath a shady cliflF, of com'se with 
 some young lady, 
 Lalage, Nesera, Haidee, or Elaine, or Mary 
 Ann : 
 Love, you dear delusive dream, you ! Very sweet 
 your victims deem you, 
 When, heard only by the seamew, they talk all 
 the stuff one can. 
 
 Sweet to haste, a licensed lover, to Miss Pinkerton 
 the glover. 
 Having managed to discover what is dear Neaera^s 
 " size " : 
 P^raps to touch that wrist so slender, as your tiny 
 gift you tender. 
 And to read you're no offender, in those laughing 
 hazel eyes. 
 
 Then to hear her call you " Harry,'' when she makes, 
 you fetch and carry —
 
 IN THE GLOAMING. 10'.^ 
 
 young men about to many, what a blessed 
 
 thing it is ! 
 To be photographed — together — cased in pretty 
 
 Russia leather — 
 Hear her gravely doubting whether they have 
 
 spoilt your honest phiz ! 
 
 Then to bring your plighted fair one first a ring 
 — a rich and rare one — 
 Next a bracelet, if she'll wear one, and a heap of 
 things beside ; 
 And serenely bending o'er her, to inquire if it 
 would bore her 
 To say when her own adorer may aspire to call 
 her bride ! 
 
 Then, the days of courtship over, with your wife 
 to start for Dover 
 Or Dieppe — and live in clover evermore, what- 
 e'er befalls : 
 For I've read in many a novel that, unless they've 
 souls that grovel, 
 Folks 'prefer in fact a hovel to your dreary 
 marble halls :
 
 110 IN THE GLOAMING. 
 
 To sit, tappy married lovers ; Phillis trifling with 
 a plover's 
 Egg, while Corydon uncovers with a grace the 
 Sally Lunn, 
 Or dissects the lucky pheasant — that, I think, were 
 passing pleasant ; 
 As I sit alone at present, dreaming darkly of a 
 Dun.
 
 THE PALACE. 
 
 T^HEY come, they come, with fife and drum. 
 
 And gleaming pikes and glancing banners 
 Though the eyes flash, the lips are dumb ; 
 To talk in rank would not be manners. 
 Onward they stride, as Britons can ; 
 The ladies following in the Van. 
 
 Who, who be these that tramp in threes 
 Through sumptuous Piccadilly, through 
 
 The roaring Strand, and stand at ease 
 At last ^neath shadowy Waterloo ? 
 
 Some gallant Guild, I ween, are they ; 
 
 Taking their annual holiday.
 
 112 THE PALACE. 
 
 To catch the destined train — to pay 
 
 Their willing fares, and plunge within it — 
 
 Is, as in old Romaunt they say, 
 
 With them the work of half-a-minute. 
 
 Then off they^re whirl'd, with songs and shouting, 
 
 To cedared Sydenham for their outing. 
 
 I mark'd them light, with faces bright 
 
 As pansies or a new coin'd florin, 
 And up the sunless stair take flight, 
 
 Close-pack'd as rabbits in a warren. 
 Honour the Brave, who in that stress 
 Still trod not upon Beauty^s dress ! 
 
 Kerchief in hand I saw them stand ; 
 
 In every kerchief lurked a lunch ; 
 When they unfurled them, it was grand 
 
 To watch bronzed men and maidens crunch 
 The sounding celery-stick, or ram 
 The knife into the blushiuo- ham. 
 
 o 
 
 DashM the bold fork through pies of pork ; 
 O'er hard-boil'd eggs the saltspoon shook ;
 
 THE PALACE. 113 
 
 Leapt from its lair the playful cork : 
 
 Yet some there were, to whom the brook 
 Seemed sweetest beverage, and for meat 
 They chose the red root of the beet. 
 
 Then many a song, some rather long, 
 
 Came quivering up from girlish throats ; 
 
 And one young man he came out strong. 
 And gave " The Wolf ^' without his notes. 
 
 While they who knew not song or ballad 
 
 Still munch'd^ approvingly, their salad. 
 
 But ah ! what bard could sing how hard. 
 The artless banquet o'er, they ran 
 
 Down the soft slope with daisies starr'd 
 And kingcups ! onward, maid with man. 
 
 They flew, to scale the breezy swing. 
 
 Or court frank kisses in the ring. 
 
 Such are the sylvan scenes that thrill 
 
 This heart ! The lawns, the happy shade. 
 
 Where matrons, whom the sunbeams grill. 
 Stir with slow spoon their lemonade ; 
 
 II. I
 
 114 THE PALACE. 
 
 And maidens flirt (no extra charge) 
 In comfort at the fountain's marge ! 
 
 Others may praise the '^ grand displays " 
 
 Where "■ fiel^y arch," '' cascade/' and '' comet/ 
 
 Set the whole garden in a "■ blaze " ! 
 Far, at such times, may I be from it ; 
 
 Though then the public may be " lost 
 
 In wonder" at a triflino- cost. 
 
 o 
 
 Fann'd by the breeze, to puff at ease 
 My faithful pipe is all I crave : 
 
 And if folks rave about the "■ trees 
 Lit up by fireworks," let them rave. 
 
 Your monster fetes, I like not these ; 
 
 Though they bring grist to the lessees.
 
 PEACE. 
 
 A STUDY. 
 
 TTE stood, a worn-out City clerk — 
 
 Who'd toil'd, and seen no holiday, 
 For forty years from dawn to dark — 
 Alone beside Caermarthen Bay. 
 
 He felt the salt spray on his lips; 
 
 Heard children's voices on the sands ; 
 Up the sun's path he saw the ships 
 
 Sail on and on to other lands ; 
 
 And laug-h'd aloud. Each sight and sound 
 To him was joy too deep for tears ; 
 
 He sat him on the beach, and bound 
 A blue bandana round his ears
 
 116 PEACE. 
 
 And thought how, posted near his door, 
 His own green door on Camden Hill, 
 
 Two bands at least, most likely more, 
 Were mingling at their own sweet will 
 
 Yerdi with Vance. And at the thought 
 He laughed again, and softly drew 
 
 That Morning Herald that he^d bought 
 
 Forth from his breast, and read it through.
 
 THE ARAB. 
 
 /^N, on, my browu Arab, away, away ! 
 
 Thou hast trotted o'er many a mile to-day. 
 And I trow rig-ht meagre hath been thy fare 
 Since they roused thee at dawn from thy straw-piled 
 
 lair. 
 To tread with those echoless unshod feet 
 Yon weltering flats in the noontide heat, 
 Where no palmtree proffers a kindly shade ■ 
 And the eye never rests on a cool grass blade ; 
 And lank is thy flank, and thy frequent cough 
 Oh ! it goes to my heart — but away, friend, oS* ! 
 
 And yet, ah ! what sculptor who saw thee stand. 
 As thou standest now, on thy Native Strand, 
 With the wild wind ruflling thine uncomb'd hair. 
 And thy nostril upturned to the od'rous air.
 
 118 THE ARAB. 
 
 Would not woo thee to pause till his skill might 
 
 trace 
 At leisure the lines of that eager face ; 
 The collarless neck and the coal-black paws 
 And the bit grasp'd tig^ht in the massive jaws; 
 The delicate curve of the legs^ that seem 
 Too slight for their burden — and, 0, the gleam 
 Of that eye, so sombre and yet so gay ! 
 Still away, my lithe Arab, once more away ! 
 
 Nay, tempt me not, Arab, again to stay ; 
 Since I crave neither Echo nor Fun to-day. 
 For thy liand is not Echoless — there they are — 
 Fun, Glowworm, and Echo, and Evening Star : 
 And thou hintest withal that thou fain would^st 
 
 shine. 
 As I con them, these bulgy old boots of mine. 
 But I shrink from thee, Arab ! Thou eat^st eel- pie, 
 Thou evermore hast at least one black eye ; 
 There is brass on thy brow, and thy swarthy hues 
 Are due not to nature but handling shoes ; 
 And the bit in thy mouth, I regret to see, 
 Is a bit of tobacco-pipe — Flee, child, flee !
 
 LINES ON HEARING THE ORGAN. 
 
 /^ RINDER, who serenely grindest 
 
 At my door the Hundredth Psalm, 
 Till thou ultimately findest 
 
 Pence in thy unwashen palm : 
 
 Grinder, jocund -hearted Grinder, 
 Near whom Barbary's nimble son, 
 
 Poised with skill upon his hinder 
 Paws, accepts the proffered bun : 
 
 Dearly do I love thy grinding ; 
 
 Joy to meet thee on thy road 
 Where thou prowlest through the blinding 
 
 Dust with that stupendous load,
 
 120 LINES ON HEARING THE ORGAN. 
 
 ^Neath the baleful star of SiriuS;, 
 When the postmen slowlier jog, 
 
 And the ox becomes delirious. 
 And the muzzle decks the dog. 
 
 Tell me by what art thou bindest 
 On thy feet those ancient shoon : 
 
 Tell me, Grinder, if thou grindest 
 Always, alw^ays out of tune. 
 
 Tell me if, as thou art buckling 
 On thy straps with eager claws. 
 
 Thou forecastest, inly chuckling. 
 All the rage that thou wilt cause. 
 
 Tell me if at all thou mindest 
 When folks flee, as if on wings, 
 
 From thee as at ease thou grindest : 
 Tell me fifty thousand things. 
 
 Grinder, gentle-hearted Grinder ! 
 
 Rufiians who lead evil lives. 
 Soothed by thy sweet strains, are kinder 
 
 To their bullocks and their wives :
 
 LINES ON HEARING THE ORGAN. 121 
 
 Children, when they see thy supple 
 Form approach, are out like shots ; 
 
 Half-a-bar sets several couple 
 Waltzing in convenient spots ; 
 
 Not with clumsy Jacks or Georges : 
 
 Unprofaned by grasp of man 
 Maidens speed those simple orgies, 
 
 Betsey Jane with Betsey Ann. 
 
 As they love thee in St. Gileses 
 
 Thou art loved in Grosvenor Square : 
 
 None of those engaging smiles is 
 Unreciprocated there. 
 
 Often, ere yet thou hast hammer'd 
 
 Through thy four delicious airs, 
 Coins are flung thee by enamoured 
 
 Housemaids upon area stairs : 
 
 E^en the ambrosial-whiskered flunkey 
 Eyes thy boots and thine unkempt 
 
 Beard and melancholy monkey 
 More in pity than contempt.
 
 122 LINES ON HEARING THE ORGAN. 
 
 Far from England, in the sunny 
 South, where Anio leaps in foam, 
 
 Thou wast rear'd, till lack of money 
 Drew thee from thy vineclad home : 
 
 And thy mate, the sinewy Jocko, 
 From Brazil or Afric came, 
 
 Land of simoom and sirocco — 
 And he seems extremely tame. 
 
 There he quaff d the undefiled 
 
 Spring, or hung with apelike glee, 
 
 By his teeth or tail or eyelid. 
 To the slippery mango-tree : 
 
 There he woo'd and won a dusky 
 Bride, of instincts like his own ; 
 
 Talk'd of love till he was husky 
 In a tongue to us unknown : 
 
 Side by side 'twas theirs to ravage 
 The potato ground, or cut 
 
 Down the unsuspecting savage 
 
 With the well-aim M cocoa-nut: —
 
 LINES ON HEARING THE ORGAN. 123 
 
 Till the miscreant Stranger tore him 
 Screaming from his blue-faced fair ; 
 
 And they flung strange raiment o^er him^ 
 Raiment which he could not bear : 
 
 Severed from the pure embraces 
 
 Of his children and his spouse, 
 He must ride fantastic races 
 
 Mounted on reluctant sows : 
 
 But the heart of wistful Jocko 
 
 Still was with his ancient flame 
 In the nutgroves of Morocco ; 
 
 Or if not it^s all the same. 
 
 Grinder, winsome o-riusome Grinder ! 
 
 They who see thee and whose soul 
 Melts not at thy charms, are blinder 
 
 Than a trebly-bandaged mole : 
 
 They to whom thy curt (yet clever) 
 
 Talk, thy music and thine ape. 
 Seem not to be joys for ever, 
 
 Are but brutes in human shape.
 
 124 LINES ON HEARING THE ORGAN. 
 
 'Tis not that thy mien is stately, 
 ^Tis not that thy tones are soft ; 
 
 ^Tis not that I care so greatly 
 
 For the same thing played so oft : 
 
 But Tve heard mankind abuse thee ; 
 
 And perhaps it's rather strange. 
 But I thought that I would choose thee 
 
 For encomium, as a change. 
 
 1
 
 CHANGED. 
 
 T KNOW not why uiy soul is racked : 
 
 Why I ne^er smile as was my wont : 
 I only know that^ as a fact, 
 
 I don't. 
 I used to roam o'er glen and glade 
 
 Buoyant and blithe as other folk : 
 And not unfrequently I made 
 A joke. 
 
 A minstrel's fire within me burn'd. 
 
 Pd sing, as one whose heart must break, 
 Lay upon lay : I nearly learn'd 
 To shake.
 
 126 CHANGED. 
 
 All day I sang ; of love, of fame, 
 
 Of fights our fathers fought of yore. 
 Until the thing almost became 
 A bore. 
 
 I cannot sing the old songs now ! 
 It is not that I deem them low; 
 ^Tis that I can't remember how 
 
 They go. 
 I could not range the hills till high 
 
 Above me stood the summer moon 
 And as to dancing*, I could fly 
 As soon. 
 
 The sports, to which with boyish glee 
 I sprang erewhile, attract no more ; 
 Although I am but sixty-three 
 
 Or four. 
 Nay, worse than that, I've seem'd of late 
 To shrink from happy boyhood — boys 
 Have grown so noisy, and I hate 
 A noise.
 
 CHANGED. 127 
 
 They fright me, when the beech is green, 
 
 By swarming up its stem for eggs : 
 They drive their horrid hoops between 
 
 My legs: — 
 It's idle to repine, I know ; 
 
 ni tell you what 1^11 do instead : 
 Fll drink my arrowroot, and go 
 To bed.
 
 FIRST LOVE. 
 
 r\ MY earliest love, who, ere I number'd 
 
 Ten sweet summers, made my bosom thrill ! 
 Will a swallow — or a swift, or some bird — 
 Fly to her and say, I love her still ? 
 
 Say ray life's a desert drear and arid, 
 To its one green spot I aye recur : 
 
 Never, never — although three times married — 
 Have I cared a jot for aught but her. 
 
 No, mine own ! though early forced to leave you. 
 Still my heart was there where first we met ; 
 
 In those " Lodgings with an ample sea-view," 
 Which were, forty years ago, " To Let."
 
 FIRST LOVE. 129 
 
 There I saw her first, our landlord's oldest 
 Little daughter. On a thing so fair 
 
 Thou, Sun, — who (so they say) behold est 
 Everything, — hast gazed, I tell thee, ne'er. 
 
 There she sat— so near me, yet remoter 
 Than a star — a blue-eyed bashful imp : 
 
 On her lap she held a happy bloater, 
 
 'Twixt her lips a yet more happy shrimp. 
 
 And I loved her, and our troth we plighted 
 On the morrow by the shingly shore : 
 
 In a fortnight to be disunited 
 By a bitter fate for evermore. 
 
 O my own, my beautiful, my blue-eyed ! 
 
 To be young once more, and bite my thumb 
 At the world and all its cares with you, I'd 
 
 Give no inconsiderable sum. 
 
 Hand in hand we tramp'd the golden seaweed, 
 Soon as o'er the gray cliff peep'd the dawn : 
 
 Side by side, when came the hour for tea, we'd 
 Crunch the mottled shrimp and hairy prawn: — 
 
 II. K
 
 130 FIRST LOVE. 
 
 Has she wedded some gigantic shrimper. 
 
 That sweet mite with whom I loved to play ? 
 
 Is she girt with babes that whine and whimper, 
 That bright being who was always gay ? 
 
 Yes — she has at least a dozen wee things ! 
 
 Yes — I see her darning corduroys. 
 Scouring floors, and setting out the tea-things. 
 
 For a howling herd of hungry boys, 
 
 In a home that reeks of tar and sperm-oil ! 
 
 But at intervals she thinks, I know. 
 Of those days which we, afar from turmoil. 
 
 Spent together forty years ago. 
 
 O my earliest love, still unforgotten, 
 
 With your downcast eyes of dreamy blue \ 
 
 Never, somehow, could I seem to cotton 
 To another as I did to you !
 
 WANDERERS. 
 
 A S o'er the hill we roam'd at will. 
 My dog and I together. 
 We marked a chaise, by two bright bays 
 Slow-moved along the heather : 
 
 Two bays arch ueck'd, with tails erect 
 And gold upon their blinkers ; 
 
 And by their side an ass I spied ; 
 It was a travelling- tinker's. 
 
 ■"a 
 
 The chaise went by, nor aught cared I ; 
 
 Such things are not in my way : 
 I turn'd me to the tinker, who 
 
 Was loafing down a by-way :
 
 132 WANDERERS. 
 
 I ask'd him where he lived — a stare 
 
 Was all I got iu answer, 
 As on he trudo-ed : I rio-htlv iudo-ed 
 
 The stare said, " Where I can, sir/^ 
 
 I ask'd him if he'd take a whiff 
 
 Of ^bacco ; he acceded ; 
 He grew communicative too, 
 
 (A pipe was all he needed,) 
 Till of the tinker's life, I think, 
 
 I knew as much as he did. 
 
 " 1 loiter down by thorp and town ; 
 
 For any job I'm willing ; 
 Take here and there a dusty l)rown, 
 
 And here and there a shilling. 
 
 "I deal in every ware in turn, 
 
 I've rings for buddin' Sally 
 That sparkle like those eyes of her'n ; 
 
 I've liquor for the valet. 
 
 " I steal from th' parson's strawberry-plots, 
 
 I hide by th' squire's covers ; 
 I teach the sweet young housemaids what's 
 
 The art of trapping lovers.
 
 WANDERERS. 133 
 
 " The things I've done 'neath moon and stars 
 
 Have got me into messes : 
 I've seen the sky throngh prison bars, 
 
 I've torn up prison dresses : 
 
 " I've sat, I've sigh'd, I've gloom'd, I've glanced 
 
 With envy at the swallows 
 That through the window slid, and danced 
 
 (Quite happy) round the gallows ; 
 
 " But out again I come, and show 
 
 My face nor care a stiver 
 For trades are brisk and trades are sIoav, 
 
 But mine goes on for ever." 
 
 Thus on he prattled like a babbling brook. 
 Then I^ " The sun hath slipt behind the hill^ 
 And my aunt Vivian dines at half- past six." 
 So in all love we parted ; I to the Hall. 
 They to the village. It was noised next noon 
 That chickens had been miss'd at Syllabub Farm.
 
 SAD MEMORIES. 
 
 n^HEY tell me I am beautiful : they praise my 
 
 silken hair, 
 My little feet that silently slip on from stair to 
 
 stair : 
 They praise my pretty trustful face and innocent 
 
 grey eye ; 
 Fond hands caress me oftentimes^ yet would that I 
 
 might die ! 
 
 Why was I born to be abhorr'd of man and bird 
 
 and beast ? 
 The bullfinch marks me stealing by, and straight 
 
 his song hath ceased ; 
 The shrewmouse eyes me shudderingly, then flees ; 
 
 and, worse than that, 
 The housedog he flees after me — why was I born 
 
 a cat ?
 
 SAD MEMORIES. 135 
 
 Men prize the heartless hound who quits dry-eyed 
 his native land ; 
 
 Who wags a mercenary tail and licks a tyrant hand. 
 
 The leal true cat they prize not, that if e^er com- 
 pelled to roam 
 
 Still flies, when let out of the bag, precipitately 
 home. 
 
 They call me cruel. Do I know if mouse or song- 
 bird feels ? 
 
 I only know they make me light and salutary 
 meals : 
 
 And if, as 'tis my nature to, ere I devour I tease 
 'em. 
 
 Why should a low-bred gardener's boy pursue me 
 with a besom ? 
 
 Should china fall or chandeliers, or anything but 
 
 stocks — 
 Nay stocks, when they're in flowerpots — the cat 
 
 expects hard knocks :
 
 136 SAD MEMORIES. 
 
 Should ever anything be missed — milk, coals, um- 
 brellas, brandy — 
 
 The caVs pitch^l into with a boot or any thing 
 that^s handy. 
 
 " I remember, I remember," how one night I 
 
 " fleeted by," 
 And gained the blessed tiles and gazed into the 
 
 cold clear sky. 
 '' I remember, I remember, how my little lovers 
 
 came ; " 
 And there, beneath the crescent moon, played many 
 
 a little game. 
 
 They fought — by good St. Catharine, ^twas a fear- 
 some sio'ht to see 
 
 The coal-black crest, the glowering orbs, of one 
 o-io-antic He. 
 
 Like bow by some tall bowman bent at Hastings or 
 Poictiers, 
 
 His huge back curved, till none observed a vestige 
 of his ears :
 
 SAD MEMORIES. 137 
 
 He stood, an ebon crescent, flouting- that ivory 
 
 moon ; 
 Then raised the pibroch of his race, the Soug- 
 
 without a Tune ; 
 Gleam'd his white teeth, his mammoth tail waved 
 
 darkly to and fro, 
 As with one complex yell he burst, all claws, upon 
 
 the foe. 
 
 It thrills me now, that final Miaow — that weird 
 
 unearthly din : 
 Lone maidens heard it far away, and leaped out of 
 
 their skin. 
 A potboy from his den overhead peep'd with a scared 
 
 wan face ; 
 Then sent a random brickbat down, which knock'd 
 
 me into space. 
 
 Nine days I fell, or thereabouts : and, had we not 
 
 nine lives, 
 I wis I ne'er had seen again thy sausage-shop, St. 
 
 Ives !
 
 138 SAD MEMORIES. 
 
 Had I^ as some cats have, nine tails, how gladly I 
 
 would lick 
 The hand, and person generally, of him who heaved 
 
 that brick ! 
 
 For me they fill the milkbowl up, and cull the 
 
 choice sardine : 
 But ah ! I nevermore shall be the cat I once have 
 
 been ! 
 The memories of that fatal night they haunt me 
 
 even now ; 
 Tn dreams I see that rampant He, and tremble at 
 
 that Miaow.
 
 COMPANIONS. 
 
 A TALE OF A GRANDFATHER. 
 By the Author of "Dewy Memories," &c. 
 
 T KNOW not of what we ponder'd 
 
 Or made pretty pretence to talk, 
 As, her hand within mine, we wander'd 
 Toward the pool by the limetree walk. 
 While the dew fell in showers from the passion 
 flowers 
 And the blush-rose bent on her stalk. 
 
 I cannot recall her figure : 
 
 Was it regal as Juno's own ? 
 Or only a trifle bigger 
 
 Than the elves who surround the throne 
 Of the Faery Queen, and are seen, I ween, 
 By mortals in dreams alone ?
 
 140 COMPANIONS. 
 
 What her eves were like, I know not : 
 Perhaps they were blurr'd with tears ; 
 
 And perhaps in your skies there glow not 
 (On the contrary) clearer spheres. 
 No ! as to her eyes I am just as wise 
 As you or the cat, my dears. 
 
 Her teeth, I presume, were " pearly " : 
 But which was she, brunette or blonde ? 
 
 Hei' hair, was it quaintly curly, 
 
 Or as straight as a beadle's wand ? 
 That I fail'd to remark ; — it was rather dark 
 And shadowy round the pond. 
 
 Then the hand that reposed so snugly 
 In mine — was it plump or spare ? 
 
 Was the countenance fair or ugly ? 
 Nay, children, you have me there ! 
 My eyes were p'raps blurr'd ; and besides I'd heard 
 That it's horribly rude to stare. 
 
 And I — was I brusque and surly ? 
 Or oppressively bland and fond ?
 
 COMPANIONS. 141 
 
 Was I partial to rising early ? 
 Or why did we twain abscond, 
 All breakfastless too, from the public view 
 To prowl by a misty pond ? 
 
 What pass'd, what was felt or spoken — 
 
 Whether anything pass'd at ail — 
 And whether the heart was broken 
 
 That beat under that sheltering shawl — 
 (If shawl she had on, which I doubt) — has gone, 
 Yes, gone from me past recall. 
 
 Was I haply the lady's suitor ? 
 
 Or her uncle ? I can't make out — - 
 Ask your gorerness, dears, or tutor. 
 
 For myself, I'm in hopeless doubt 
 As to why we were there, who on earth we were. 
 
 And what this is all about.
 
 BALLAD. 
 
 n^^HE auld wife sat at her ivied door, 
 
 (Butter and eggs ami a pound of cheese) 
 A thing she had frequently done before ; 
 
 And her spectacles lay on her apron'd knees. 
 
 The piper he piped on the hill-top high, 
 [Butter and' eggs and a pound of cheese) 
 
 Till the cow said " I die/' and the goose ask^d 
 '' Why ? '' 
 And the dog said nothing-, but searched for fleas. 
 
 The farmer he strode through the square farmyard ; 
 
 [Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese) 
 His last brew of ale was a trifle hard — 
 
 The connexion of which with the plot one sees.
 
 BALLAD. 14a 
 
 The farmer's daughter hath frank blue eyes ; 
 
 [Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese) 
 She hears the rooks caw in the windy skies^, 
 
 As she sits at her lattice and shells her peas. 
 
 The farmer's daughter hath ripe red lips ; 
 
 [Butter and eggs and a poimd, of cheese) 
 If you try to approach her^ away she skips 
 
 Over tables and chairs with apparent ease. 
 
 The farmer's daughter hath soft brown hair ; 
 
 [Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese) 
 And I met with a ballad^ I can't say where. 
 
 Which wholly consisted of lines like these. 
 
 Part II. 
 
 She sat with her hands 'neath her dimpled cheeks, 
 [Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese) 
 
 And spake not a word. While a lady speaks 
 There is hope, but she didn't even sneeze.
 
 144 BALLAD. 
 
 She sat, witli her hands 'neath her crimson cheeks ; 
 
 (Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese^ 
 She gave up mending her father's breeks, 
 
 And let the cat roll in her new chemise. 
 
 She sat, with her hands ^neath her burning cheeks, 
 (Butter and eggs and a poihnd of cheese) 
 
 And gazed at the piper for thirteen weeks ; 
 Then she followed him out o'er the misty leas. 
 
 Her sheep followed her, as their tails did them. 
 
 {Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese) 
 And this song is consider'd a perfect gem, 
 
 And as to the meaning, it's what you please.
 
 PRECIOUS STONES. 
 
 AN INCIDENT IN MODERN HISTORY. 
 
 I^/TY Cherrystones ! I prize them, 
 No tongue can tell how much ! 
 Each lady caller eyes them. 
 
 And madly longs to touch ! 
 At eve I lift them down, I look 
 
 Upon them, and I cry ; 
 Recalling how my Prince '^partook" 
 
 (Sweet word !) of cherry-pie ! 
 
 To me it was an Era 
 
 In life, that Dejeuner ! 
 They ate, they sipp'd Madeira 
 
 Much in the usual way. 
 
 II. L
 
 146 • PRECIOUS STONES. 
 
 Many a soft item there would be, 
 No doubt, upon the carte : 
 
 But one made life a heaven to me : 
 It was the cherry-tart. 
 
 Lightly the spoonfuls enter'd 
 
 That mouth on which the gaze 
 Often fair girls were centred 
 
 In rapturous amaze. 
 Soon that august assemblage cleared 
 
 The dish ; and — as they ate — 
 The stones, all coyly, re-appear'd 
 
 On each illustrious plate. 
 
 And when His Royal Highness 
 
 Withdrew to take the air. 
 Waiving our natural shyness. 
 
 We swoop'd upon his chair. 
 Policemen at our garments clutched: 
 
 We mocVd those feeble powers ; 
 And soon the treasures that had touchM 
 
 Exalted lips were ours !
 
 PRECIOUS STONES. « 147 
 
 One large one — at the moment 
 
 It seem'd almost divine — 
 Was got by that Miss Beaumont : 
 
 And three, three, are mine ! 
 Yes ! the three stones that rest beneath 
 
 Glass, on that plain deal shelf, 
 Stranger, once dallied with the teeth 
 
 Of Royalty itself. 
 
 Let Parliament abolish 
 
 Churches and States and Thrones : 
 With reverent hand 1^11 polish 
 
 Still, still my Cherrystones ! 
 A clod — a piece of orange-peel — 
 
 An end of a cigar — 
 Once trod on by a Princely heel. 
 
 How beautiful they are ! 
 
 Years since, I climb'd Saint Michael 
 His Mount : — you^U all go there 
 
 Of course, and those who like^U 
 Sit in Saint Michael^s Chair :
 
 148 PRECIOUS STONES. 
 
 For there I saw, within a frame, 
 The pen — O heavens ! the pen — 
 
 With which a Duke had signed his name, 
 And other gentlemen. 
 
 " Great among geese," I faltered, 
 
 " Is she who grew that quill ! '' 
 And, Deathless Bird, unalter'd 
 
 Is mine opinion still. 
 Yet sometimes, as I view my three 
 
 Stones with a thoughtful brow, 
 I think there possibly might be 
 
 E^en greater geese than thou.
 
 DISASTER. 
 
 ^'T^WAS ever thus from cliildhoocVs hour ! 
 
 My fondest hopes would not decay : 
 I never loved a tree or flower 
 
 Which was the first to fade away ! 
 The garden, where I used to delve 
 
 Short- frockM, still yields me pinks in plenty: 
 The peartree that I climb'd at twelve 
 I see still blossoming, at twenty. 
 
 I never nursed a dear gazelle ; 
 
 But I was given a parroquet — 
 (How I did nurse him if unwell !) 
 
 Ilea's imbecile, but lingers yet.
 
 150 DISASTER. 
 
 He^s green, with an enchanting tuft ; 
 
 He melts me with his small black eye 
 He'd look inimitable stuff'd, 
 
 And knows it— but he will not die ! 
 
 I had a kitten — I was rich 
 
 In pets — but all too soon my kitten 
 Became a full-sized cat, by which 
 
 IVe more than once been scratch'd and bitten. 
 And when for sleep her limbs she curFd 
 
 One day beside her untouched plateful, 
 And glided calmly from the world, 
 
 I freely own that I was grateful. 
 
 And then I bought a dog — a queen ! 
 
 Ah Tiny, dear departing pug !. 
 She lives, but she is past sixteen 
 
 And scarce can crawl across the rug. 
 I loved her beautiful and kind ; 
 
 Delighted in her pert Bow-wow : 
 But now she snaps if you don^t mind ; 
 
 'Twere lunacy to love her now.
 
 DISASTER. 151 
 
 I used to think, should e^er mishap 
 
 Betide my crumple-visaged Ti, 
 In shape of prowling thief, or trap, 
 
 Or coarse bull-terrier — I should die. 
 But ah ! disasters have their use ; 
 
 And life might e'en be too sunshiny : 
 Nor would I make myself a goose, 
 
 If some big dog should swallow Tiny.
 
 CONTENTMENT. 
 
 AFTER THE :>rAXNER OF HORACE. 
 
 T?IIIEND, there be they on whom mishap 
 
 Or never or so rarely comeSj 
 That, when they think thereof, they snap 
 Derisive thumbs : 
 
 And there be they who lightly lose 
 
 Their all, yet feel no aching void ; 
 Should aught annoy them, they refuse 
 To be annoy'd : 
 
 And fain would I be e'en as these ! 
 
 Life is with such all beer and skittles ; 
 They are not difficult to please 
 About their victuals :
 
 CONTENTMENT. 153 
 
 The trout, the grouse, the early pea, 
 By such, if there, arc freely taken ; 
 If not, they munch with equal glee 
 Their bit of bacon : 
 
 And when they wax a little gay 
 
 And chaff the public after luncheon. 
 If they're confronted with a stray 
 Policeman's truncheon, 
 
 They gaze thereat with outstretch'd necks, 
 
 And laughter which no threats can smother. 
 And tell the horror-stricken X 
 That he's another. 
 
 In snowtime if they cross a spot 
 
 Where unsuspected boys have slid, 
 They fall not down — though they would not 
 Mind if they did : 
 
 When the spring rosebud which they wear 
 Breaks short and tumbles from its stem. 
 No thought of being angry e'er 
 Dawns upon them ;
 
 154 CONTENTMENT. 
 
 Though 'twas Jemima's hand that placed, 
 (As well you ween) at evening's hour, 
 In the loved button-hole that chaste 
 And cherish'd flower. 
 
 And when they travel, if they find 
 
 That they have left their pocket-compass 
 Or Murray or thick boots behind, 
 They raise no rumpus. 
 
 But plod serenely on without : 
 
 Knowing it's better to endure 
 The evil which beyond all doubt 
 You cannot cure. 
 
 When for that early train they're late. 
 
 They do not make their woes the text 
 Of sermons in the Times, but wait 
 On for the next ; 
 
 And jump inside, and only grin 
 
 Should it appear that that dry wag, 
 The guard, omitted to put in 
 Their carpet-bag.
 
 THE SCHOOLMASTER 
 
 ABROAD WITH HIS SON. 
 
 /~\ WHAT harper could worthily harp it, 
 
 Mine Edward ! this wide-stretching wold 
 (Look out ivold) with its wonderful carpet 
 
 Of emerald, purple, and gold ! 
 Look well at it — also look sharp, it 
 Is getting so cold. 
 
 The purple is heather [erica) ; 
 
 The yellow, gorse — call'd sometimes " whin." 
 Cruel boys on its prickles might spike a 
 
 Green beetle as if on a pin. 
 You may roll in it, if you would like a 
 Few holes in your skin.
 
 156 THE SCHOOLMASTER ABROAD 
 
 You wouldn^t ? Then think of how kind you 
 Should be to the insects who crave 
 
 Your compassion — and then, look behind you 
 At yon barley- ears ! Don^t they look brave 
 
 As they undulate — [undulate, mind you, 
 From uncla, a wave) . 
 
 The noise of those sheep-bells, how faint it 
 Sounds here- — (on account of our height) ! 
 
 And this hillock itself — who could paint it. 
 With its changes of shadow and light ? 
 
 Is it not — (never, Eddy, say " ain^t it ^^) — 
 A marvellous sight ? 
 
 Then yon desolate eerie morasses, 
 
 The haunts of the snipe and the hern — 
 
 (I shall question the two upper classes 
 On aqiiatiles, when we return) — 
 
 Why, I see on them absolute masses 
 Oi filix or fern. 
 
 How it interests e^en a beginner 
 (Or tiro) like dear little Ned !
 
 WITH HIS SON. 157 
 
 Is he listening ? As I am a sinner 
 
 He's asleep — he is wagging his head. 
 Wake up ! I'll go home to my dinner, 
 And you to your bed. 
 
 The boundless ineffable prairie ; 
 
 The splendour of mountain and lake 
 With their hues that seem ever to vary ; 
 
 The mighty pine-forests which shake 
 In the wind, and in which the unwarv 
 May tread on a snake ; 
 
 And this wold with its heathery garment — 
 
 Are themes undeniably great. 
 But — although there is not any harm iu't — 
 
 It's perhaps little good to dilate 
 On their charms to a dull little varmint 
 Of seven or eight.
 
 ARCADES AMBO. 
 
 TT7HY are ye wandering aye ^twixt porch and 
 porcli, 
 Thou and thy fellow — when the pale stars fade 
 At dawn, and when the glowworm lights her torch, 
 Beadle of the Burlington Arcade ? 
 — Who asketh why the Beautiful was made ? 
 A wan cloud drifting o^er the waste of blue. 
 
 The thistledown that floats above the glade. 
 The lilac-blooms of April — fair to view, 
 xA.nd naught but fair are these ; and such, I ween, 
 are you. 
 
 Yes, ye are beautiful. The young street boys 
 Joy in your beauty. Are ye there to bar 
 
 Their pathway to that paradise of toys. 
 
 Ribbons and rings ? Who^ll blame ye if ye are ?
 
 ARCADES AMBO. 159 
 
 Surely no shrill and clattering crowd should 
 mar 
 The dim aisle's stillness, where in noon's midglow 
 
 Trip fair-hair'd girls to boot-shop or bazaar ; 
 Where, at soft eve, serenely to and fro 
 The sweet boy-graduates walk, nor deem the 
 pastime slow. 
 
 And ! forgive me. Beadles, if I paid 
 
 Scant tribute to your worth, when first ye 
 stood 
 Before me robed in broadcloth and brocade 
 
 And all the nameless grace of Beadlehood ! 
 
 I would not smile at ye — if smile I could 
 Now as erewhile, ere I had learnM to sigh : 
 
 Ah, no ! I know ye beautiful and good. 
 And evermore will pause as I pass by. 
 And gaze, and gazing think, how base a thing am I..
 
 WAITING. 
 
 ''f\ ^^^^^' come," the mother pray'd 
 
 And hush'd her babe : " let me behold 
 Once more thy stately form array'd 
 
 Like autumn woods in green and gold ! 
 
 "I see thy brethren come and go; 
 
 Thy peers in stature, and in hue 
 Thy rivals. Some like monarchs glow 
 
 With richest purple : some are blue 
 
 *' As skies that tempt the swallow back ; 
 
 Or red as, seen o'er wintry seas, 
 The star of storm ; or barr'd with black 
 
 And yellow, like the April bees.
 
 WAITING. 161 
 
 " Come they and go ! I heed not, I. 
 
 Yet others hail their advent, clino- 
 All trustful to their side, and fly 
 
 Safe in their gentle piloting 
 
 '' To happy homes on heath or hill, 
 By park or river. Still I wait 
 
 And peer into the darkness : still 
 Thou com'st not — I am desolate. 
 
 '^ Hush ! hark ! I see a towering form ! 
 
 From the dim distance slowly rolFd 
 It rocks like lilies in a storm. 
 
 And 0, its hues are green and gold : 
 
 '^ It comes, it comes ! Ah rest is sweet, 
 And there is rest, my babe, for us ! '^ 
 
 She ceased, as at her very feet 
 
 Stopped the St. John^s Wood omnibus. 
 
 IT. M
 
 PLAY. 
 
 T3LAY, play, while as yet it is day : 
 
 While the sweet sunlight is warm on the brae ! 
 Hark to the lark singing lay upon lay. 
 While the brown squirrel eats nuts on the spray, 
 And in the apple-leaves chatters the jay ! 
 Play, play, even as they ! 
 
 What though the cowslips ye pluck will decay. 
 What though the grass will be presently hay ? 
 What though the noise that ye make should dismay 
 Old Mrs. Clutterbuck over the way ? 
 Play, play, for your locks will grow gray ; 
 Even the marbles ye sport with are clay. 
 
 Play, ay in the crowded highway : 
 Was it not made for you ? Yea, my lad, yea.
 
 PLAY. 163 
 
 True tliat the babes you were bid to convey 
 Home may fall out or be stolen or stray ; 
 True that the tip-cat you toss about may 
 Strike an old gentleman, cause him to sway. 
 Stumble, and p^raps be run o'er by a dray : 
 Still why delay ? Play, my son, play ! 
 Barclay and Perkins, not you, have to pay. 
 
 Play, play, your sonatas in A, 
 Heedless of what your next neighbour may say ! 
 Dance and be gay as a faun or a fay. 
 Sing like the lad in the boat on the bay ; 
 Sing*, play — if your neighbours inveigh 
 Feebly against you, they're lunatics, eh ? 
 Bang, twang, clatter and clang, 
 Strum, thrum, upon fiddle and drum ; 
 Neigh, bray, simply obey 
 All your sweet impulses, stop not or stay ! 
 Rattle the " bones," hit a tinbottom'd tray 
 Hard with the fireshovel, hammer away ! 
 Is not your neighbour your natural prey ? 
 Should he confound you, it's only in play.
 
 LOVE. 
 
 ri ANST thou love me, lady ? 
 
 I've not learn'd to woo : 
 Thou art on the shady 
 
 Side of sixty too. 
 Still I love thee dearly ! 
 
 Thou hast lands and pelf : 
 But I love thee merely 
 
 Merely for thyself. 
 
 Wilt thou love me, fairest ? 
 
 Though thou art not fair ; 
 And I think thou wearest 
 
 Someone-else's hair. 
 Thou could'st love, though, dearly 
 
 And, as I am told,
 
 LOVE. 165 
 
 Thou art very nearly 
 
 Worth thy weight, in gold. 
 
 Dost thou love me, sweet one ? 
 
 Tell me that thou dost ! 
 Women fairly beat one, 
 
 But I think thou must. 
 Thou art loved so dearly : 
 
 I am plain, but then 
 Thou (to speak sincerely) 
 
 Art as plain again. 
 
 Love me, bashful fairy ! 
 
 IVe an empty purse : 
 And IVe " moods,^' which vary ; 
 
 Mostly for the worst. 
 Still, I love thee dearly : 
 
 Though I make (I feel) 
 Love a little queerly, 
 
 I^m as true as steel. 
 
 Love me, swear to love me 
 (As, you know, they do)
 
 166 LOVE. 
 
 By yon heaven above me 
 And its changeless blue. 
 
 Love me^ lady, dearly, 
 If you^ll be so good ; 
 
 Though I don't see clearly 
 On what ground you should. 
 
 Love me — ah I or love me 
 
 Not, but be my bride ! 
 Do not simply shove me 
 
 (So to speak) aside ! 
 P'raps it would be dearly 
 
 Purchased at the price ; 
 But a hundred yearly 
 
 Would be very nice.
 
 THOUGHTS AT A RAILWAY STATION. 
 
 '^IS but a box, of modest deal ; 
 
 Directed to no matter where : 
 Yet down my cheek the teardrops steal — 
 Yes, I am blubbering like a seal ; 
 For on it is this mute appeal, 
 " With care." 
 
 I am a stern cold man, and range 
 
 Apart : but those vague words " With care " 
 
 Wake yearnings in me sweet as strange : 
 Drawn from my moral Moated Grange, 
 I feel I rather like the change 
 Of air. 
 
 Hast thou ne^er seen rough pointsmen spy 
 Some simple English phrase — " With care "
 
 168 THOUGHTS AT A RAILWAY STATION. 
 
 Or ''This side uppermost" — and cry 
 Like children ? No ? No more have I. 
 Yet deem not him whose eyes are dry 
 A bear. 
 
 But ah ! what treasm^e hides beneath 
 
 That lid so much the worse for wear ? 
 A ring perhaps — a rosy wreath — 
 A photograph by Vernon Heath — 
 Some matron^s temporary teeth 
 Or hair ! 
 
 Perhaps some seaman, in Peru 
 
 Or Ind, hath stowed herein a rare 
 Cargo of birds' eggs for his Sue ; 
 With many a vow that he'll be true, 
 And many a hint that she is too, 
 Too fair. 
 
 Perhaps — but wherefore vainly pry 
 Into the page that's folded there ?
 
 THOUGHTS AT A RAILWAY STATION. 169 
 
 I shall be better by and by : 
 The porters, as I sit and sigh, 
 Pass and repass — I wonder why 
 They stare !
 
 ON THE BRINK. 
 
 T WATCH' D her as she stoop'd to pluck 
 
 A wildflower in her hair to twine ; 
 And wish'd that it had been my luck 
 To call her mine. 
 
 Anon I heard her rate with mad 
 
 Mad words her babe within its cot; 
 And felt particularly glad 
 That it had not. 
 
 I knew (such subtle brains have men) 
 
 That she was uttering what she shouldn't; 
 And thought that I would chide, and then 
 I thought I wouldn't :
 
 ON THE BRINK. 171 
 
 Who could have gazed upon that face^ 
 
 Those pouting coral lips, and chided ? 
 A RhadamanthuSj in my place, 
 Had done as I did : 
 
 For ire wherewith our bosoms glow 
 
 Is chain'd there oft by Beauty^s spell ; 
 And, more than that, I did not know 
 The widow well. 
 
 So the harsh phrase pass'd unreproved. 
 
 Still mute — (0 brothers, was it sin ?) — 
 I drank, unutterably moved. 
 Her beauty in : 
 
 And to myself I murmur'd low, 
 
 As on her upturn^ face and dress 
 The moonlight fell, " Would she say No, 
 By chance, or Yes ? " 
 
 She stood so calm, so like a ghost 
 Betwixt me and that magic moon,
 
 172 ON THE BRINK. 
 
 That I already was almost 
 A finished coon. 
 
 But when she caught adroitly up 
 
 And soothed with smiles her little daughter ; 
 And gave it, if I^m right, a sup 
 Of barley-water ; 
 
 And, crooning still the strange sweet lore 
 Which only mothers^ tongues can utter, 
 Snow'd with deft hand the sugar o'er 
 Its bread-and-butter ; 
 
 And kiss'd it clingingly — (Ah, why 
 
 Don't women do these things in private ?) — 
 I felt that if I lost her, I 
 
 Should not survive it : 
 
 And from my mouth the words nigh flew — 
 
 The past, the future, I forgat 'em : 
 " Oh ! if you'd kiss me as you do 
 That thankless atom ! "
 
 ON THE BRINK. 173 
 
 But this thought came ere yet I spake, 
 And froze the sentence on my lips : 
 " They err, who marry wives that make 
 Those little slips." 
 
 It came like some familiar rhyme. 
 Some copy to my boyhood set ; 
 And that^s perhaps the reason I^m 
 Unmarried yet. 
 
 Would she have own'd how pleased she was, 
 
 And told her love with widow's pride ? 
 I never found out that, because 
 I never tried. 
 
 Be kind to babes and beasts and birds: 
 
 Hearts may be hard, though lips are coral; 
 And angry words are angry words : 
 And that's the moral.
 
 " FOREVER.'^ 
 
 170REVER ; 'tis a single word ! 
 
 Our rude forefathers deemed it two 
 Can you imagine so absurd 
 A view ? 
 
 Forever ! What abysms of woe 
 
 The word reveals, what frenzy, what 
 Despair ! For ever (printed so) 
 Did not. 
 
 It looks, ah me ! how trite and tame ! 
 
 It fails to sadden or appal 
 Or solace — it is not the same 
 At all.
 
 "FOREVER." 175 
 
 thou to whom it first occurr'd 
 
 To solder the disjoint, and dower 
 Thy native language with a word 
 Of power : 
 
 We bless thee ! Whether far or near 
 Thy dwelling, whether dark or fair 
 Thy kingly brow, is neither here 
 Nor there. 
 
 But in men^s hearts shall be thy throne, 
 
 While the great pulse of England beats : 
 Thou coiner of a word unknown 
 To Keats ! 
 
 And nevermore must printer do 
 As men did longago ; but run 
 " For''' into " ever," bidding two 
 Be one. 
 
 Forever ! passion- fraught, it throws 
 
 O'er the dim page a gloom, a glamour :
 
 176 "FOREVER." 
 
 It^s sweet, it's strange ; and I suppose 
 It's grammar. 
 
 Forever ! 'Tis a single word ! 
 
 And yet our fathers deem'd it two : 
 Nor am I confident they err'd ; 
 Are you ?
 
 c< 
 
 UNDER THE TREES. 
 
 TTNDER the trees ! " Who but agrees 
 
 That there is magic in words such as these ? 
 Promptly one sees shake in the breeze 
 Stately lime-avenues haunted of bees : 
 Where, looking far over buttercupp'd leas, 
 Lads and " fair shes" (that is Byron, and he's 
 An authority) lie very much at their ease; 
 Taking their teas, or their duck and green peas, 
 Or, if they prefer it, their plain bread and cheese : 
 Not objecting at all though it's rather a squeeze 
 And the glass is, I daresay, at 80 degrees. 
 Some get up glees, and are mad about Ries 
 And Sainton, and Tamberlik's thrilling high Cs; 
 Or if painters, hold forth upon Hunt and Maclise, 
 And the tone and the breadth of that landscape of 
 Lee's j 
 
 II. N
 
 178 UNDER THE TREES. 
 
 Or if learned^ on nodes and the moon's apogees^ 
 Or, if serious, on something of A.K. H.B/s, 
 Or the latest attempt to convert the Chaldees ; 
 Or in short about all things, from earthquakes to 
 
 fleas. 
 Some sit in twos or (less frequently) threes, 
 With their innocent lambswool or book on their 
 
 knees, 
 And talk, and enact, any nonsense you please, 
 As they gaze into eyes that are blue as the seas ; 
 And you hear an occasional " Harrj- , don't tease " 
 From the sweetest of lips in the softest of keys. 
 And other remarks, which to me are Chinese. 
 And fast the time flees ; till a ladylike sneeze, 
 Or a portly papa's more elaborate wheeze, 
 Makes Miss Tabitha seize on her brown mufiatees. 
 And announce as a fact that it's going to freeze, 
 And that young people ought to attend to their Ps 
 And their Qs, and not court every form of disease. 
 Then Tommy eats up the three last ratafias, 
 And pretty Louise wraps her rohe de cerise 
 Round a bosom as tender as Widow Machree's, 
 And (in spite of the pleas of her lorn vis-a-vis)
 
 UNDER THE TREES. 179 
 
 Goes to wrap up her uncle — a patient of Skey's, 
 Who is prone to catch chills, like all old Beuga- 
 
 lese : — 
 But at bedtime I trust he'll remember to grease 
 The bridge of his nose^ and preserve his rupees 
 From the premature clutch of his fond legatees ; 
 Or at least have no fees to pay any M, D.s 
 For the cold his niece caught, sitting under the 
 
 Trees.
 
 MOTHERHOOD. 
 
 Q HE laid it where the sunbeams fall 
 Unscann'd upon the broken wall. 
 Without a tear, without a groan, 
 She laid it near a mighty stone, 
 Wliich some rude swain had haply cast 
 Thither in sport, long ages past, 
 And Time with mosses had overlaid. 
 And fenced with many a tall grassblade. 
 And all about bid roses bloom 
 And violets shed their soft perfume. 
 There, in its cool and quiet bed. 
 She set her burden down and fled : 
 Nor flung, all eager to escape. 
 One glance upon the perfect shape
 
 MOTHERHOOD. 181 
 
 That lay, still warm and fresh and fair, 
 But motionless and soundless there. 
 
 No human eye had marked her pass 
 Across the linden-shadow'd grass 
 Ere yet the minster clock chimed seven : 
 Only the innocent birds of heaven — 
 The magpie, and the rook whose nest 
 Swings as the elmtree waves his crest — 
 And the lithe cricket, and the hoar 
 And huge-limb'd hound that guards the door, 
 Looked on when, as a summer wind 
 That, passing, leaves no trace behind, 
 All unappareird, barefoot all. 
 She ran to that old ruin'd wall, 
 To leave upon the chill dank earth 
 (For ah ! she never knew its worth) 
 ^Mid hemlock rank, and fei^n, and ling, 
 And dews of night, that precious thing ! 
 
 And there it might have lain forlorn 
 From morn till eve, from eve to morn : 
 But that, by some wild impulse led,
 
 182 MOTHERHOOD. 
 
 The mother, ere she turned and fled. 
 One moment stood erect and high ; 
 Then pour'd into the silent sky 
 A cry so jubilant, so strange. 
 That Alice — as she strove to range 
 Her rebel ringlets at her glass — 
 Sprang up and gazed across the grass ; 
 Shook back those curls so fair to see, 
 Clapp'd her soft hands in childish glee ; 
 And shrieVd — her sweet face all aglow. 
 
 Her vei'y limbs with rapture shaking — 
 " My hen has laid an egg, I know ; 
 
 And only hear the noise she^s making ! "
 
 MYSTERY. 
 
 T KNOW not if iu others' eyes 
 
 She seem'd almost divine ; 
 But far beyond a doubt it lies 
 That she did not in mine. 
 
 Each common stone on which she trod 
 
 I did not deem a pearl : 
 Nay it is not a little odd 
 
 How I abhorred that girl. 
 
 We met at balls and picnics oft, 
 Or on a drawingroom stair ; 
 
 My aunt invariably cough'd 
 To warn me she was there : 
 
 At croquet I was bid remark 
 How queenly was her pose.
 
 184 MYSTERY. 
 
 As with stern glee she drew the dark 
 Blue ball beneath her toes^ 
 
 « 
 And made the Red fly many a foot : 
 
 Then calmly she would stoop, 
 Smiling an angel smile, to put 
 
 A partner through his hoop. 
 
 At archery I was made observe 
 That others aim'd more near, 
 
 But none so tenderly could curve 
 The elbow round the ear : 
 
 Or if we rode, perhaps she did 
 
 Pull sharply at the curb ; 
 But then the way in which she slid 
 
 From horseback was superb ! 
 
 She^d throw ofi" odes, again, whose flow 
 And fire were more than Sapphic ; 
 
 Her voice was sweet, and very low ; 
 Her singing quite seraphic :
 
 r 
 
 MYSTERY. 18o 
 
 She ivas a seraph, lacking- wings. 
 
 That much I freely own. 
 But, it is one of those queer things 
 
 Whose cause is all unknown — 
 
 (Such are the wasp, the household fly, 
 The shapes that crawl and curl 
 
 By men called centipedes) — that I 
 Simply abhorred that girl. 
 
 * 
 
 No doubt some mystery underlies 
 
 All things which are and which are not 
 
 And ^tis the function of the Wise 
 Not to expound to us what is what. 
 
 But let his consciousness play round 
 The matter, and at ease evolve 
 
 The problem, shallow or profound. 
 
 Which our poor wits have faiFd to solve. 
 
 Then tell us blandly we are fools ; 
 Whereof we were aware before :
 
 186 MYSTERY. 
 
 That truth they taught us at the schools. 
 And p^r^aps (who knows ?) a little more. 
 
 — But why did we two disagree ? 
 
 Our tastes, it may be, did not dovetail : 
 All I know is, we ne^er shall be 
 
 Hero and heroine of a love-tale.
 
 FLIGHT. 
 
 r\ MEMORY ! that which T gave thee 
 ^ To guard in thy garner yestreen — 
 Little deeming thou e'er could'st behave thee 
 
 Thus basely — hath gone from thee clean ! 
 Gone, fled, as ere autumn is ended 
 
 The yellow leaves flee from the oak — 
 I have lost it for ever, my splendid 
 Original joke. 
 
 What was it ? I know I was brushing 
 My hair when the notion occurred : 
 
 I know that I felt myself blushing 
 
 As I thought, " How supremely absurd !
 
 188 FLIGHT. 
 
 How they'll hammer on floor and on table 
 
 As its drollery dawns on them — how 
 They will quote it "—I wish I were able 
 To quote it just now. 
 
 I had thought to lead up conversation 
 To the subject — it's easily done — 
 
 Then let ofi", as an airy creation 
 
 Of the moment, that masterly pun. 
 
 Let it off, with a flash like a rocket's ; 
 Ln the midst of a dazzled conclave, 
 
 AVhere I sat, with my hands in my pockets, 
 The only one grave. 
 
 I had fancied young Titterton's chuckles. 
 And old Bottleby's hearty guffaws 
 
 As he drove at my ribs with his knuckles. 
 His mode of expressing applause : 
 
 While Jean Bottleby — queenly Miss Janet- 
 Drew her handkerchief hastily out. 
 
 In fits at my slyness — what can it 
 Have all been about ?
 
 FLIGHT. 18i> 
 
 I know ^twas the happiest, quaintest 
 
 Combination of pathos and fun : 
 But IVe got no idea — the faintest — - 
 
 Of what was the actual pun. 
 I think it was somehow connected 
 
 With something- I'd recently read — 
 Or heard — or perhaps recollected 
 On going to bed. 
 
 What had I been reading ? The Standard : 
 " Double Bigamy ; " " Speech of the Mayor." 
 
 And later — eh ? yes ! I meandered 
 
 Through some chapters of Vanity Fair. 
 
 How it fuses the grave with the festive ! 
 Yet e'en there, there is nothing so fine — 
 
 So playfully, subtly suggestive — 
 As that joke of mine. 
 
 Did it hinge upon " parting asunder ? " 
 No, I don't part my hair with my brush. 
 
 Was the point of it " hair " ? Now I wonder ? 
 Stop a bit — I shall think of it — hush !
 
 190 FLIGHT. 
 
 There's hare, a wild animal — StuJEf! 
 
 It was something a deal more recondite : 
 Of that I am certain enough ; 
 
 And of nothing beyond it. 
 
 Hair — locks ! There are probably many 
 Good things to be said about those. 
 
 Give me time- — that's the best guess of any — 
 " Lock" has several meanings, one knows. 
 
 Iron locks — iron-gray locks — a " deadlock " — 
 That would set up an everyday wit : 
 
 Then of course there's the obvious " wedlock ; " 
 
 But that wasn't it. 
 
 No ! mine was a joke for the ages ; 
 
 Full of intricate meaning and pith ; 
 A feast for your scholars and sages — 
 
 How it would have rejoiced Sidney Smith ! 
 'Tis such thoughts that ennoble a mortal ; 
 
 And, singling him out from the herd. 
 Fling wide immortality^s portal — 
 
 But what was the word ?
 
 FLIGHT. 191 
 
 Ah me ! ^tis a bootless endeavour. 
 
 As the flight of a bird of the air 
 Is the flight of a joke — you will never 
 
 See the same one again, you may swear. 
 ^Twas my firstborn, and how I prized it ! 
 
 My darling, my treasure, my own ! 
 This brain and none other devised it — 
 
 And now it has flown.
 
 ON THE BEACH. 
 
 LINES BY A PKIVATE TUTOE. 
 
 TTTHEN the young Augustus Edward 
 Has reluctantly gone bed ward 
 (He^s the urchin I am privileged to teach) , 
 
 From my left-hand waistcoat pocket 
 
 I extract a batter'd locket 
 And I commune with it, walking on the beach. 
 
 I had often yearn'd for something 
 That would love me, e'en a dumb thing ; 
 
 But such happiness seem'd always out of reach : 
 Little boys are off like arrows 
 With their little spades and barrows, 
 
 When they see me bearing down upon the beach ;
 
 ON THE BEACH. 193 
 
 And although I^m rathei' handsome, 
 
 Tiny babes, when I would dance ^em 
 On my arm, set up so horrible a screech 
 
 That I pitch them to their nurses 
 
 With (I fear me) mutter'd curses, 
 And resume my lucubrations on the beach. 
 
 And the rabbits won't come nigh me, 
 
 And the gulls observe and fly me, 
 And I doubt, upon my honour, if a leech 
 
 Would stick on me as on others. 
 
 And I know if I had brothers 
 They would cut me when we met upon the beach. 
 
 So at last I bought this trinket 
 
 For (although I love to think it) 
 'Twasn't given me, with a pretty little speech : 
 
 No ! I bought it of a pedlar. 
 
 Brown and wizen'd as a medlar. 
 Who was hawking odds and ends about the beach. 
 
 But I've managed, very nearly, 
 To believe that I was dearly 
 Loved by Somebody, who (blushing like a peach) 
 II. o
 
 194 ON THE BEACH. 
 
 Flung- it o^er me saying, " Wear it 
 
 % 
 For my sake " — and I declare, it 
 
 Seldom strikes me that I bought it on the beach. 
 
 I can see myself revealing 
 
 Unsuspected depths of feeling. 
 As, in tones that half upbraid and half beseech, 
 
 I aver with what delight I 
 
 Would give anything — my right eye — 
 For a souvenir of our stroll upon the beach. 
 
 ! that eye that never glistenM 
 And that voice to which IVe listened 
 
 But in fancy, how I dote upon them each ! 
 
 How regardless what o^clock it 
 
 Is, I pore upon that locket 
 Which does not contain her portrait, on the beach ! 
 
 As if something were inside it 
 
 1 laboriously hide it. 
 
 And a rather pretty sermon you might preach 
 
 Upon Fantasy, selecting 
 
 For your ''instance^' the affecting 
 Tale of me and my proceedings on the beach.
 
 ON THE BEACH. 195 
 
 I depict her, ah, how charming ! 
 
 I portray myself alarming 
 Her by swearing I would " mount the deadly breach/^ 
 
 Or engage in any scrimmage 
 
 For a glimpse of her sweet image. 
 Or her shadow, or her footprint on the beach. 
 
 And I^m ever ever seeing 
 
 My imaginary Being, 
 And Fd rather that my marrowbones should bleach 
 
 In the winds, than that a cruel 
 
 Fate should snatch from me the jewel 
 Which I bought for one and sixpence on the beach.
 
 LOVERS, AND A REFLECTION. 
 
 TN moss-prankt dells wliicli the sunbeams flatter 
 (And heaven it knoweth what that may mean; 
 Meaning, however, is no great matter) 
 
 Where woods are a-tremble, with rifts atween ; 
 
 Thro^ God's own heather we wonn'd together, 
 I and my Willie (0 love my love) : 
 
 I need hardly remark it was glorious weather. 
 And flitterbats waver'd alow, above : 
 
 Boats were curtseying, rising, bowing, 
 (Boats in that climate are so polite) , 
 
 And sands were a ribbon of green endowing, 
 And O the sundazzle on bark and bight !
 
 LOVERS, AND A REFLECTION. 197 
 
 Thro' the rare red heather we danced together, 
 (0 love my Willie !) and smelt for flowers : 
 
 I must mention again it was gorgeous weather. 
 Rhymes are so scarce in this world of ours : — 
 
 By rises that flushM with their purple favours, 
 Thro' becks that brattled o'er grasses sheen, 
 
 We walked and waded, we two young shavers. 
 Thanking our stars we were both so green. 
 
 We journeyed in parallels, I and Willie, 
 
 In fortunate parallels ! Butterflies, 
 Hid in weltering shadows of daffodilly 
 
 Or marjoram, kept making peacock eyes : 
 
 Songbirds darted about, some inky 
 
 As coal, some snowy (I ween) as curds ; 
 
 Or rosy as pinks, or as roses pinky — 
 
 They reck of no eerie To-come, those birds ! 
 
 But they skim over bents which the millstream 
 washes, 
 Or hang in the lift 'neath a white cloud's hem ;
 
 198 LOVERS, AND A REFLECTION. 
 
 They need no parasols, no goloshes ; 
 
 And good Mrs Trimmer she feedeth them. 
 
 Then we thrid God^s cowslips (as erst His heather) 
 That endowed the wan grass with their golden 
 blooms ; 
 
 And snapt — (it was perfectly charming weather) — 
 Our fingers at Fate and her goddess-glooms : 
 
 And Willie Van sing (0, his notes were fluty ; 
 Wafts fluttered them out to the white- wing'd 
 sea) — 
 Something made up of rhymes that have done much 
 duty, 
 Rhymes (better to put it) of '' ancientry : " 
 
 Bowers of flowers encounter'd showers 
 In William's carol — (0 love my Willie !) 
 
 Then he bade sorrow borrow from blithe to-mon-ow 
 I quite forget what — say a daffodilly : 
 
 A nest in a hollow, " with buds to follow,'^ 
 I think occurred next in his nimble strain ;
 
 LOVERS, AND A REFLECTION. 199 
 
 And clay that was '' kneaden " of com^se in Eden — 
 A rhyme most novel^ I do maintain : 
 
 Mists, bones, the singer himself, love-stories, 
 
 And all least furlable things got " furled ; " 
 
 Not with any design to conceal their " glories,^' 
 
 But simply and solely to rhyme with " world." 
 ***** 
 
 O if billows and pillows and hours and flowers, 
 And all the brave rhymes of an elder day. 
 
 Could be furled together, this genial weather, 
 And carted, or carried on " wafts " away, 
 
 Nor ever ao-ain trotted out — ah me ! 
 
 How much fewer volumes of verse there'd be !
 
 THE COCK AND THE BULL. 
 
 \70U see this pebble-stone ? It^s a thing I bought 
 Of a bit of a chit of a boy i' the mid o^ the 
 
 day — 
 I like to dock the smaller parts-o'-speech. 
 As we curtail the already cur-taiPd cur 
 (You catch the paronomasia, play ^po' words ?) 
 Did, rather, i' the pre-Landseerian days. 
 Well, to my muttons. I purchased the concern, 
 And clapt it i^ my poke, having given for same 
 By way o' chop, swop, barter or exchange — 
 ''Chop" was my snickering dandiprat^s own term — 
 One shilling and fourpence, current coin o^ the 
 
 realm. 
 0-n-e one and f-o-u-r four 
 Pence, one and fourpence — you are with me, sir? —
 
 THE COCK AND THE BULL. 201 
 
 What hour it skills not : ten or eleven o' the clock. 
 
 One day (and what a roaring day it was 
 
 Go shop or sight-see — bar a spit o^ rain !) 
 
 In February, eighteen sixty nine, 
 
 Alexandrina Victoria, Fidei 
 
 Hm — hm — how runs the jargon ? being on throne. 
 
 Such, sir, are ail the facts, succinctly put, 
 The basis or substi'atum — what you will — 
 Of the impending eighty thousand lines. 
 ''Not much in ^em either,^' quoth perhaps simple 
 
 Hodge. 
 But there^s a superstructure. Wait a bit. 
 
 Mark first the rationale of the thing : 
 
 Hear logic rivel and levigate the deed. 
 
 That shilling — and for matter o^ that, the pence — 
 
 I had o' course upo' me — wi"" me say — 
 
 (Mecum's the Latin, make a note o^ that) 
 
 When I popp'd pen i^ stand, scratch^'d ear, wiped 
 
 snout, 
 (Let everybody wipe his own himself) 
 Sniff'd — tch ! — at snuffbox ; tumbled up, he-heed.
 
 202 THE COCK AND THE BULL. 
 
 Haw-haw'd (not hee-haw'd, that's another gues? 
 
 thing :) 
 Then fumbled at, and stumbled out of, door, 
 I shoved the timber ope wi^ my omoplat ; 
 And in vestibulo, i' the lobby to-wit, 
 (lacobi Facciolati's rendering, sir,) 
 Donn'd galligaskins, antigropeloes, 
 And so forth; and, complete with hat and gloves. 
 One on and one a-dangle i' my hand, 
 And ombrifuge (Lord love you !), case o' rain, 
 I flopped forth, ^sbuddikins ! on my own ten toes, 
 (I do assure you there be ten of them). 
 And went clump-clumping up hill and down dale 
 To find myself o' the sudden i' front o^ the boy. 
 Put case I hadn't 'em on me, could I ha' bought 
 This sort-o'-kind-o'-what-you-might-call toy. 
 This pebble-thing, o' the boy-thing ? Q, E. D. 
 That's proven without aid from mumping Pope, 
 Sleek porporate or bloated Cardinal. 
 (Isn't it, old Fatchaps ? You're in Euclid now.) 
 So, having the shilling — having i' fact a lot — 
 And pence and halfpence, ever so many o' them, 
 I purchased, as I think I said before.
 
 THE COCK AND THE BULL. 203 
 
 The pebble (lapis, Iapidis,-(li,-<lem,-de — 
 
 What nouns ^crease short i^ the genitive, Fatchaps, 
 
 eh?) 
 0' the boy, a bare-leggM beggarly son of a gun, 
 For one-and-fourpence. Here we are again. 
 
 Now Law steps in, bigwigg'd, voluminous-jaw'd ; 
 Investigates and re-investigates. 
 Was the transaction illegal ? Law shakes head. 
 Perpend, sir, all the bearings of the case. 
 
 At first the coin was mine, the chattel his. 
 But now (by virtue of the said exchange 
 And barter) vice versa all the coin. 
 Per juris operationem, vests 
 I' the boy and his assigns till ding o^ doom ; 
 {In scecula soeculo-o-o-orum ; 
 I think I hear the Abate mouth out that.) 
 To have and hold the same to him and them. . . 
 Confer some idiot on Conveyancing. 
 Whereas the pebble and every part thereof. 
 And all that appertaineth thereunto, 
 Quodcuncpie pertinet ad earn rem,
 
 204 THE COCK AND THE BULL. 
 
 (I fancy^ sir, my Latinos rather pat) 
 
 Or shall, will, may, might, can, could, would or 
 
 should, 
 {Subaudi ccetera — clap we to the close — 
 For what^s the good of law in a case o^ the kind) 
 Is mine to all intents and purposes. 
 This settled, I resume the thread o^ the tale. 
 
 Now for a touch o' the vendor's quality. 
 He says a gen'lman bought a pebble of him, 
 (This pebble i' sooth, sir, which I hold i' my hand) —— 
 And paid for^t, liJce a gen^lman, on the nail. 
 " Did I overcharge him a ha^penny ? Devil a bit. 
 Fiddlepin's end ! Get out, you blazing ass ! 
 Gabble o' the goose. Don't bugaboo-baby me ! 
 Go double or quits ? Yah! tittup! what's the odds ? '' 
 — There's the transaction view'd i' the vendor's 
 light. 
 
 Next ask that dumpled hag, stood snuffling by, 
 With her three frowsy blowsy brats o' babes, 
 The scum o' the kennel, cream o' the filth-heap — 
 Fauo-h !
 
 THE COCK AND THE BULL. 205 
 
 Aie, aie, aie^ aie ! otototototoi, 
 
 ('Stead which we blurt out Hoighty toighty now) — 
 
 And the baker and candlestickmakerj and Jack and 
 
 Gill, 
 Blear'd Goody this and queasy Gaffer that. 
 Ask the schoolmaster. Take schoolmaster first. 
 
 He saw a gentleman purchase of a lad 
 A stone, and pay for it rite, on the square, 
 And carry it oS per salhim, jauntily, 
 Propria quce marilms^ gentleman's property now 
 (Agreeably to the law explain'd above). 
 In proprium usum, for his private ends. 
 The boy he chuck'd a brown i' the air, and bit 
 I' the face the shilling : heaved a thumping stone 
 At a lean hen that ran cluck clucking by, 
 (And hit her, dead as nail i' post o' door,) 
 Then ahiit — what's the Ciceronian phrase ? — 
 Excessit, evasit, erupit — off slogs boy ; 
 Off like bird, avi similis — (you observed 
 The dative? Pretty i' the Mantuan!) — Anglice 
 Off in three flea skips. Hadenus, so far. 
 So good, tarn bene. Bene, satis, male — ,
 
 •206 THE COCK AND THE BULL. 
 
 Where was I with my trope ^bout one in a quag" ? 
 
 I did once hitch the syntax into verse : 
 
 Verbum personcde, a verb personal. 
 
 Concordat — ay, ''agrees/^ old Fatchaps — cum 
 
 Nominativo, with its nominative, 
 
 Genere, i' point o' gender, numero, 
 
 0' number, et persona, and person. Ut, 
 
 Instance : Sol ruit, down flops sun, et and, 
 
 Monies ibmhrantur, out flounce mountains. Pah ! 
 
 Excuse me, sir, I think Fm going mad. 
 
 You see the trick on^t though, and. can yourself 
 
 Continue the discourse ad lihituni. 
 
 It takes up about eighty thousand lines, 
 
 A thing imagination boggles at : 
 
 And might, odds-bobs, sir ! in judicious hands. 
 
 Extend from here to Mesopotamy.
 
 AN EXAMmATION PAPER. 
 
 "the posthumous papees of the PICKWICK club/' 
 
 Ckunhridge, 1857. 
 
 1. Mentiou any occasions on which it is specified 
 that the Fat Boy was not asleep; and that (1) Mr. 
 Pickwick and (2) Mr. Weller, senr., ran. Deduce 
 from expressions used on one occasion Mr. Pick- 
 wick's maximum of speed. 
 
 2. Translate into coherent Eno-lish, adding- a note 
 wherever a word, a construction, or an allusion, 
 requires it : 
 
 " Go on, Jemmy — like black-eyed Susan — all in 
 the Downs " — '' Smart chap that cabman — 
 handled his fives well — but if I'd been your 
 friend in the green jemmy — punch his head — 
 pig's whisper — pieman, too.^' 
 
 Elucidate the expression, " the Spanish Traveller, " 
 
 and the " narcotic bedstead," 
 
 3. Who were Mr. Staple, Goodwin, Mr. Brooks,
 
 208 AN EXAMINATION PAPER. 
 
 Villain, Mrs. Bunkin, ''old Nobs/' " cast-iron head/' 
 " young Bantam ? '' 
 
 4. What operation was performed on Tom Smart's 
 chair ? Who little thinks that in which pocket, of 
 what garment, in where, he has left what, entreating 
 him to return to whom, with how many what, and 
 all how big ? 
 
 5. Give, approximately, the height of Mr. Dub- 
 bley ', and, accurately, the Christian names of Mr. 
 Grummer, Mrs. Raddle, and the fat Boy ; also the 
 surname of the Zephyr. 
 
 6. ''Mr. Weller's knowledge of London was 
 extensive and peculiar." Illustrate this by a refer- 
 ence to the facts. 
 
 7. Describe the Rebellion which had irritated 
 Mr. Nupkins on the day of Mr. Pickwick's arrest ? 
 
 8. Give in full Samuel Weller's first compliment 
 to Mary, and his father's critique upon the same 
 young lady. What church was on the valentine 
 that first attracted Mr. Samuel's eye in the shop ? 
 
 9. Describe the common Profeel-machine. 
 
 10. State the component parts of dog's nose ; and 
 simplify the expression "taking a grinder."
 
 AN EXAMINATION PAPER. 209 
 
 11. On finding his principal in the pound, Mr. 
 Weller and the town-beadle varied directly. Show 
 that the latter was ultimately eliminated, and state 
 the number of rounds in the square which is not 
 described, 
 
 12. ''Any think for air and exercise; as the 
 wery old donkey observed ven they voke him up 
 from his deathbed to carry ten gen^lmen to Green- 
 wich in a tax-cart.''^ Illustrate this by stating any 
 remark recorded in the Pickwick Papers to have 
 been made by a (previously) dumb animal, with 
 the circumstances under which he made it. 
 
 13. What kind of cigars did Mr. Ben Allen chiefly 
 smoke, and where did he knock and take naps 
 alternately, under the impression that it was his 
 home ? 
 
 14. What was the ordinary occupation of Mr. 
 Sawyer^s boy ? whence did Mr. Allen derive the 
 idea that there was a special destiny between Mr. 
 S. and Arabella? 
 
 15. Describe Weller's Method of "gently in- 
 dicating his presence " to the young lady in the 
 garden; and the Form of Salutation usual among 
 the coachmen of the period. 
 
 II. p
 
 210 AN EXAMINATION PAPER. 
 
 16. State any incidents you know in the career 
 of Tom Martin^ butcher^ previous to his incarcera- 
 tion. 
 
 17. Give Weller's Theories for the extraction of 
 Mr. Pickwick from the Fleet. Where was his wife^s 
 will found ? 
 
 18. How did the old lady make a memorandum, 
 and of what, at whist ? Show that there were at 
 least three times as many fiddles as harps in Mug- 
 gleton at the time of the ball at Manor Farm. 
 
 19. What is a red-faced Nixon ? 
 
 20. Write down the chorus to each verse of Mr. 
 S. Weller's song, and a sketch of the mottle-faced 
 man's excursus on it. Is there any ground for 
 conjecturing that he (Sam) had more brothers than 
 one ? 
 
 21. How many lumps of sugar went into the 
 Shepherd^s liquor as a rule ? and is any exception 
 recorded ? 
 
 22. What seal was on Mr. Winkle's letter to his 
 father ? What penitential attitude did he assume 
 before Mr. Pickwick ? 
 
 23. ^' She's a swelling visibly." When did the
 
 AN EXAMINATION PAPER. 211 
 
 same phenomenon occur again, and what fluid 
 caused the pressure on the body in the latter case ? 
 
 24. How did Mr. Weller, senior, define the Funds, 
 and what view did he take of Eeduced Consols ? In 
 what terms is his elastic force described, when he 
 assaulted Mr. Stiggins at the meeting ? Write down 
 the name of the meeting. 
 
 25. " npo/SaroyvwjUwv : a good judge of cattle ; 
 hence, a good judge of character .^^ Note on ^sch. 
 Ag. — Illustrate the theory involved by a remark of 
 the parent Weller. 
 
 26. Give some account of the word '^'^ fanteeg," 
 and hazard any conjecture explanatory of the ex- 
 pression " My Prooshan Blue,'' applied by Mr. 
 Samuel to Mr. Tony Weller. 
 
 27. In developing to P. M. his views of a pro- 
 position, what assumption did Mr. Pickwick feel 
 justified in making ? 
 
 28. Deduce from a remark of Mr. Weller, junior, 
 the price per mile of cabs at the period. 
 
 29. What do you know of the hotel next the 
 Bull at Rochester ? 
 
 30. Who, besides Mr. Pickwick, is recorded to 
 have worn gaiters ?
 
 KEY 
 
 TO THE 'PICKWICK' EXAMINATION PAPER. 
 
 1. 
 
 See Chapters IV., VIIL, XXVIII., LIV. 
 
 (1) „ IV., XXX. (twice), XXXIX. 
 
 (2) „ LVI. 
 
 2. 
 
 Two of Jingle's speeclies are here quoted, the first 
 being in Chapter III., aud the second in Chapter II. 
 For " Spanish traveller " see Chapter III., and for 
 " narcotic bedstead " see Chapter XLI. " Go on, 
 Jemmy," is Mr. Jingle's adjuration to the actor whom 
 he has previously designated " Dismal Jemmy," urging 
 the commencement of the 'Stroller's Tale.' "Like 
 black-eye ' Susan — all in the Downs " has the double 
 application to the stroller's melancholy and the first line 
 of Gay's song of ' Black-eyed Susan ' — " All in the 
 Downs the fleet was moored." "Handled his fives 
 well " of course refers to the '• sparring " of the cabman 
 who wanted to fight Mr. Pickwick. "Friend in the 
 green jemmy " refers to Mr. Winkle, who, we are told 
 in Chapter I., " wore a new green shooting-coat," &c. 
 " Pig's whisper" is slang for a very brief space of time. 
 Bartlett says the Americans have " pig's whistle " with 
 the same signification.
 
 KEY TO AN EXAMINATION PAPER. 213 
 
 See Chapters VII., XVIII., XIX., XXII., XXXIV., 
 XXXVII., XXXVI., XLIV. 
 
 4. 
 See two several parts of ' The Bagman's Story ' in 
 Chapter XIV. 
 
 5. 
 See Chapters XXIV., XXV., XLVL, VIII., XLI. 
 
 6. 
 See Chapter XX. 
 
 7. 
 See Chapter XXIV. 
 
 8. 
 See Chapters XXV., LVI., XXXIII. 
 
 9. 
 See Chapter XXXIII. 
 
 10. 
 See Chapters XXXIII. and XXXI. 
 
 11. 
 
 See the end of Chapter XIX.
 
 214 KEY TO THE " PICKWICK " 
 
 12. 
 
 Illustrations will be found severally in Chapters 
 XXXIII., XXXV., XL VII. 
 
 13. 
 
 See Chapters XXX. and XXXII. 
 
 14. 
 See two separate passages in Chapter XXXVIII. 
 
 15. 
 
 See Chapters XXXIX. and XLIII. 
 
 16. 
 See Chapter XLII. 
 
 17. 
 
 See Chapters XLIIL, XLV., LV. 
 
 18. 
 See Chapters VI. and XXVIII. 
 
 19. 
 
 See Chapter XLIII. "You've been a prophesjin' 
 
 away very fine like a red-faced Nixon as the sixpenny 
 
 books gives picters on." The allusion istoEobertNixon, 
 
 the Cheshire prophet. See Notes and Queries, first
 
 EXAMINATION PAPER. 215 
 
 series, vol. viii., pp. 257 and 326 ; and fourth series, vol. 
 xi., pp. 171 and 265. Nixon's prophecies have been 
 frequently published in the form of chapbooks, and 
 were probably current at the time with a highly-coloured 
 portrait. 
 
 20. 
 The first requisition may be complied with by re- 
 ference to Chapter XLIII. The following is answered 
 in Chapter X. 
 
 21. 
 See Chapters XLV. and LII. 
 
 22. 
 
 See Chapters L. and XLVII. 
 
 23. 
 See Chapters XXXIII. and XLV. 
 
 24. 
 The first two questions are answered in Chapters LII. 
 and LV. The next is answered at the end of Chapter 
 XXXIII. ; where also is the information lastly required. 
 
 25. 
 The illustration required is in Chapter LY. 
 
 26. 
 See Chapters XXXVIII. and XXXIII. '^ Fcmteeg,
 
 216 KEY TO AN EXAMINATION PAPER. 
 
 a worry or bustle. Also, ill-humour. — Various Dia- 
 lects." — Halliwbll. " Prooshan blue " probably refers 
 to the colour of dress-coats. " Which gentleman of 
 your party wears a bright blue dress-coat?" enquires 
 The Boots, in ' Pickwick,' Chapter II. Thus Sam 
 Weller's " Prooshan Blue" is a finely-dressed fellow of 
 the Pickwick-Weller period. 
 
 27. 
 See Chapter XXIV. 
 
 28. 
 See the opening of Chapter XXII. 
 
 29. 
 See Chapter II. 
 
 30. 
 See Chapter XX. 
 
 CHISWICK PRESS : — C. WHITTINGHAM AND CO., TOOKS COURT, 
 CHANCERY LANE.
 
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