>A!\ ! iRlSPl^ 
 
 ^ ver ( iiiaiirt "C^oiiGfeitf 
 
 RH;\PSO'DIf:,
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 The following Teftimonials have been received from 
 Gentlemen who have read the MSS.: — 
 
 From George Glenny, Esc^., Author of " The Properties 
 of Floivers^'' Botanical and other Standard Works. 
 
 "Thefe Poems are what I (hould defcribe as anti- 
 " Roman Catholic, and there is no miAake about their 
 " being piquant and quaint in their ftyle, and that they 
 " will be popular among Proteftants." 
 
 From Dr. Ferdinand Rahles, Reviewer of Foreign 
 
 Literature. 
 
 " I enjoyed very much the reading of ' Saint Crifpin,' 
 " which is both comical and fatirical in ftyle." 
 
 From a Literary Critic of eminence. 
 
 " The fluency of rhyming difplayed, with the 
 *' abundance of quaint thoughts, and the intermixture 
 " of * old faws with modern inftances ' and cant 
 '* fayings, remind the reader frequently of the 
 " * Ingoldsby Legends,' and are even occafionally on 
 " a par with them as to wit and power of expreffion."
 
 SAINT CRISPIN 
 
 AND 
 
 P 
 
 Sther iauaint Conceits 
 
 AND 
 
 MERRY RHAPSODIES. 
 
 BY 
 
 W. J. EVELYN INGRAM 
 
 "Ne futor ultra crepidam." 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 WILLIAM FREEMAN, 102, FLEET STREET. 
 
 1866. 
 rhf Author referves the Kight ofTrdiiJliitioi}
 
 LOMUON ; 
 
 CLAYTON AND CO., TRINTEIIS, TF.MPLE WORRS, 
 
 BOUVKRIE STREET.
 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 -o- 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Sir Maurice ; or, the Haunted Churchyard ... i 
 The Angler's Fate : a Legend of Twickenham . . 1 1 
 The Reveller's Dream : a Legend of Brighton . . 15 
 
 Young Lambs to Sell 31 
 
 A Sea-side Reverie • • 33 
 
 The Flat Iron : a Legend of St. Giles's . . . . 37 
 
 Saint Crispin 43 
 
 Waifs: a Legend of the Sea 97 
 
 The Body-Snatchers 119 
 
 The Lost Testimonial : a Legend of Dundee . .123 
 
 Saint Thais : a Legend of Thebes 127 
 
 The Myrtle and Laurel : a Treatlfe on Gardening . 151 
 "Sympathy," and Where it may be found . . . -153 
 Lethe. The Morning Thought of a Reveller -155 
 
 "The Everlasting Gold Pen." 157 
 
 "Love's Purest Star" 159
 
 VI CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 "Meat vcrfiis Fish :" a Canonical Diftinftion . .161 
 Reconciliation. The Blackfmith's Wife's Reply . 165 
 The Wit and the Host : a Tale of the Ledger . .167 
 
 " The Noisy Debate " ' . . . .175 
 
 Untold Love 179 
 
 Ruth, the Gleaner . . . . 181 
 
 The "Stepping-stones:" a River Scene . . . .183 
 
 The Devil Outwitted 191 
 
 Olla PoDRiDA ; or, Railway Jottings 195 
 
 The Baron and his Advisers 209
 
 SIR MAURICE; 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE HAUNTED CHURCHYARD. 
 
 i
 
 SIR MAURICE; 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE HAUNTED CHURCHYARD. 
 
 |IR Maurice was -a knight of mighty arm, 
 And had in Italy achieved renown ; 
 No battles ever caufed his heart alarm ; 
 As for a challenge — his reply a frown 
 Of ftern defiance ; Hill he felt a qualm 
 Whene'er he heard of ghofts or any fort of thing 
 He couldn't pink with fword, or with a bullet 
 wing. 
 
 And this was all occafioned by thofe (lories 
 So often told to people in their youth. 
 
 Of warfare he had heard, and all its glories 
 Were grafted in his heart, becaufe their truth 
 
 Was patent to himfelf ; but all about 
 
 The fupernatural he felt a doubt. 
 
 B
 
 2 SIR MAURICE ; OR, 
 
 His nurfe had often told him, when a boy, 
 Of goblin, fpeftre, forcerer, and fprite; 
 
 And, when he cried, (lie found the bed alloy 
 To talk of bogies, who took brats at night ; 
 
 So that however brave might be his heart, 
 
 She curbed his mind, which was the better part. 
 
 He had been educated at a fchool 
 
 Where moral courage was prefumed a bafis ; 
 But fuperftition formed the fav'rite rule, 
 
 And was in faft the very great oafis 
 On which his teachers fell to curb his tether, 
 For few could cope with fuch a bird of feather. 
 
 But early precepts never are forgotten ; 
 
 And in Italia's land, where they rely 
 On prieftly miracles (altho' they're rotten). 
 
 Yet the demand quite equals the fupply ; 
 He wonder'd how the Virgin could contrive 
 To wink the fame when dead as if alive. 
 
 He faw the weeping image at Milan, 
 
 "Saint Magdalen," who in her great emotion 
 
 Produced a ftream of trickling tears, that ran 
 To aid the unbelievers in devotion :
 
 THE HAUNTED CHURCHYARD. 3 
 
 And he could not with truthfulnefs deny 
 He'd never feen the marble ftatue cry.^ 
 
 Yet being told with all folemnity 
 
 That fuch were fafts he faw before his eyes, 
 How dare he doubt a priefl's indemnity ; 
 
 On faith of fome fort ev'ry one relies, 
 
 Such as the liquefaction of Saint Januarius, 
 
 The teft of whofe famed blood fome think is moil 
 precarious. 
 
 He heard about the priefls at Santiago, f 
 Who lay upon the women an embargo 
 For portage on all letters that are given 
 To prieflly couriers who go up to heaven ; 
 
 * The Florence correfpondent of the Independance Beige 
 says that a fingular difcovery has been made in a church in 
 one of the faubourgs of Milan. A {tatue of Saint Magdalen, 
 which has been long famous for weeping in the prefence of 
 unbelievers, was recently moved in order to facilitate repairs in 
 the church. It was found that the ftatue contained an arrange- 
 ment for boiling water, the (team from which paffing into the 
 head, was there condenfed, and making its way by a couple 
 of pipes to the eyes, trickled down the cheeks of the image : 
 so the wonderful miracle was performed. 
 
 f In the accounts of the deftrudion by fire of the Cathedral 
 at Santiago, when some 2000 females were buint, it was 
 mentioned that the priefts had erefted a letter-box for women 
 
 n 2
 
 4 SIR MAURICE ; OR, 
 
 For when the ladies' fins require purging, 
 They then indite a letter to the Virgin. 
 
 But what her anfwers were to their petition, 
 Or if the priefls had forged her autograph, 
 
 Were points by far too moot for his cognition ; 
 Their conduft at the fiery cenotaph 
 
 Was like Nero's, who, tender feelings fpurning. 
 
 Could play the fiddle while the place was burning. 
 
 And fundry flrange conceptions that he faw, 
 Defcended like an heirloom we inherit ; 
 
 The' here and there he might deteft a flaw, 
 Still on the whole it afted on his fpirit, 
 
 And gave to all he couldn't underftand 
 
 A certain awe, which held him in command. 
 
 Befide the Abbey where the yew tree blows, 
 Obtaining life diflilled from dead men's bones, 
 
 There by its fide the weeping willow grows. 
 Bending its languid leaves upon the stones — 
 
 to fend petitions to the Virgin. By the priefts' perfiftence in 
 clofing the door of the sacrifty to enable them to remove the 
 valuables of the church— and themfelves — in fafety, they were 
 the caufe of preventing hundreds efcaping from the dreadful 
 immolation.
 
 THE HAUNTED CHURCHYARD. 5 
 
 "Death's monuments" — where man in vain 
 
 records 
 The laft frail trace hmnanity affords. 
 
 Rumour a tale about that yard had fpread, 
 
 - That in the night a ghoft walked o'er the dead ; 
 
 And fome who had been known to pafs alone 
 
 Befide the charnel-houfe, had heard a groan, 
 In which direftion, by the moon's pale light, 
 With horror they beheld the awful fight. 
 
 The tale got wind among the population 
 About the time the knight arrived at home; 
 
 It was a theme of gen'ral conflernation. 
 And after dark fcarce any one would roam 
 
 Within the precinfts of a fpot fo dread, 
 
 Where walked the reftlefs and unholy dead. 
 
 A poor old faithful widow, who had laid 
 Her hufband in his grave, was ne'er afraid 
 Of ghoils. In tribulation of the mind 
 She thought a calm in folitude to find ; 
 And ev'ry night went forth in grief to mourn, 
 Befide the fliadow of his hallowed urn.
 
 6 SIR MAURICE ; OR, 
 
 And there was feafling in an ancient hall, 
 
 The wafTail cup had made each heart rejoice, 
 
 While none could dream dark danger could appal 
 Each noify guefl (if one might judge by voice). 
 
 But in the midft of all their revelry 
 
 The converfation turned on devilry, 
 
 And then on fpirits which returned to earth — 
 Revifiting the glimpfes of the night — 
 
 When far lefs loud became the roift'ring mirth, 
 Or, plainly fpeaking, difappeared in fright ; 
 
 For manly roaring to foft whifpers sunk, 
 
 And no more merry toafts that night were drunk. 
 
 Then up arofe (frefli from the battle-field) 
 
 Sir Maurice — he whofe valour ne'er did fail — 
 And cried, "Ye knights! a blot upon the fliield 
 . " Of each who at old women's ftories quail ! 
 " Go to the churchyard, if you're brave and true." 
 The anfwer was, " Sir Maurice, pray will you ? " 
 
 Thus called upon — altho' to him diftafteful, 
 And tho' in fecret not a little daunted — 
 
 He thought refufal would appear difgraceful 
 By thofe whofe courage he had juft now taunted.
 
 THE HAUNTED CHURCHYARD. 7 
 
 He knew " NecelTitas non habet leges," 
 But this beat all his battles and his fieges. 
 
 Thus being challenged, he perforce confented. 
 
 True to his word he fought the drear abode 
 (Tho' forely his pot-valour he repented), 
 
 And entered where the troubled fpirit ftrode ; 
 Yet was not fpirit in that haunted ground 
 So troubled as his own — as now he found. 
 
 Till now he ne'er had made a recantation 
 Of his belief in either fprite or ghofh, 
 
 And ftraightway he commenced his incantation. 
 One part in fear, and one in noify boafl ; 
 
 For well he knew it would not do to lag, 
 
 Tho' when he held the beaker he could brag. 
 
 " If there be any who have palT'd Death's portal, 
 " Or who upon his late life fadly ponders, 
 
 " I call upon that moft unhappy mortal, 
 
 " Or rather fpirit who in fpace now wanders, 
 
 '' Whether it be in England, Spain, or France, fir, 
 
 '' This moment I demand to have an anfwer."
 
 SIR MAURICE ; OR, 
 
 In paufmg for reply, he thought he heard 
 A curious fort of noife in his proximity ; 
 
 His blood feh chilled, and yet he never flirred 
 (It was the ruftling of the widow's dimity) ; 
 
 But hearing nothing more he thought he needed 
 
 More energy, and thus again proceeded : 
 
 " Report alTerts that from fome awful caufe 
 " Thou wand'refl here, for fome affirm they've 
 feen thee. 
 " Say why thou violatell nature's laws ? 
 
 " For not a iliadow of thy fliade ihall fcreen 
 thee; 
 " My voice is hufky, yet I've no horfe laugh, 
 " Nor, like my horfe, do 1 indulge in 'chaff.' 
 
 " Tell me the truth while I am (landing by — 
 
 '■'■ You'll find, by Jove, that I'll allow no quarter; 
 
 " And if you do not infhantly comply, 
 
 " Upon your tombilones I'll commence i 
 (laughter. 
 
 " With my mod famed of fwords an infult you 
 fliould fettle : 
 
 " If you've the fpirit of a ghoft, come, fliow your 
 mettle!"
 
 THE HAUNTED CHURCHYARD, 9 
 
 The frail and trembling widow in her forrow 
 Had heard thefe threats and very dark menaces, 
 
 And luckily it was not near the morrow, 
 
 Whofe rofy light had iliown his vile grimaces ; 
 
 While {he, poor foul, was at the theological, 
 
 His mind was working at the diabolical. 
 
 Thefe horrid imprecations 'midil the gloom 
 Aroufed the filent figure from the grave, 
 
 And with a Ihriek flie fainted on the tomb ; 
 Oif bolted he, his craven felf to fave — 
 
 The only reveller who dared to roaft 
 
 His friends about exiftence in a ghoft. 
 
 Had he polTelfed the courage that he vaunted, 
 And flayed, he would have feen that his affright 
 
 Was not caufed by the churchyard being haunted. 
 But would have found, to his intenfe delight, 
 
 Inflead of meeting with a ghofl or elf, 
 
 'Twas one almoft as frightened as himself. 
 
 He daggered homewards looking like a fpeftre. 
 With fuch a frenzied brain as terror warps ; 
 
 He found the widow fuch a ftern refleftor, 
 That in a week he was himfelf a corpfe.
 
 lO SIR MAURICE, ETC. 
 
 And thus Sir Maurice, now as cold as ftone, 
 By leeking for a ghoft gave up his own. 
 
 Moral. 
 
 Written as an Epitaph for Sir Maurice Cenotaph 
 
 Imagination paints fictitious things, 
 
 And out of fancy oft a goblin fprings ; 
 
 No churchyard has the power to difclofe 
 Such horrors as poor timid hearts fuppofe. 
 
 The germ of ev'ry ghofh in fuperfhition lies — 
 
 Created in the brain, which ignorance fupplies.
 
 THE ANGLER'S FATE 
 
 A LEGEND OF TWICKENHAM. 
 
 • OBERT Jones one morning very 
 Early took a fifliing wherry, 
 Not at Wapping Old Stairs, 
 Where your Molly declares 
 Her love will be true till ftie dies, 
 But at Twickenham Ait, 
 Where the connoiiTeurs ftate 
 The eels tafte fo nice in the pies. 
 
 You never could halt on 
 
 A man who had iludi'ed 
 Pifcatorial Walton, 
 
 Or a brain half fo flooded 
 With all the enticements of ground-bait or fly, 
 To hook out a fiih wherefoevcr he'd lie.
 
 12 THE angler's FATE. 
 
 His mind did inherit 
 
 The famed Izaak's fpirit ; 
 His walls were well embelliili'd by 
 Stuffed victims of the treach'rous fly, 
 All fplendid fpecimens of fifli 
 To gratify an angler's wiih, 
 The trophies of his former fport, 
 Alas 1 this fatal day cut fliort. 
 
 While Bob was peering from the boat 
 Watching the bobbing of his float, 
 The 'thwart gave way, and back he fell, 
 Soufed like a pickled mack-e-rel. 
 Although his mufcles were alive, 
 He could not fwim, but he could dive ; 
 His heel fl:uck in the mud fo tight, - 
 Much to the other eels' delight ; 
 And thus poor Jones, once an Oxonian, 
 Died — by becoming a Waltonian. 
 
 It is reported flnce that day 
 
 The eels a finer tafle difplay ; 
 
 But why ?— " The Reafon Why " don't fay 
 
 Perhaps from feelings of difmay ;
 
 THE ANGLERS FATE. I3 
 
 And we've been told it ill became us 
 
 To fpoil the fale of pies fo famous. 
 
 We recommend " Enquire Within " — 
 
 The work to anfwer everything — 
 
 And Ihut your ears, and do not fee 
 
 The link of Jones' cataflrophe. 
 
 But I mod diligently fought 
 
 The Twickenham Regiftrar's report, 
 
 And find that Junes was not interr'd ; 
 
 By which 'tis eafily inferr'd, 
 
 And very greatly to be dreaded, 
 
 His corpfe has only been imbedded ; 
 
 That is, the refidue of bone — 
 
 The Lord knows where the fleili has gone.
 
 THE 
 
 REVELLER'S DREAM. 
 
 A LEGEND OF BRIGHTON,
 
 THE REVELLER'S DREAM. 
 
 A LEGEND OF BRIGHTON. 
 
 ETER Carew, a captain in the Lancers, 
 
 Was always thought a paragon of 
 dancers ; 
 
 In Scotch or Irifli reels 
 
 He'd twift and twirl his heels, 
 
 No bee with pin 
 
 Stuck through his fkin 
 Could turn with fuch velocity : 
 
 Not one in a million 
 
 Could dance a cotillon 
 Like this young famed precocity. 
 
 He'd never ftep falfe 
 
 When dancing a waltz, 
 
 But would fpin like a top 
 
 Until ready to drop ; 
 c
 
 l8 THE reveller's DREAM. 
 
 For he felt the intenfity 
 
 Of the twirling propenfity. 
 
 Nor did he e'er forget 
 
 Politenefs in a minuet; 
 
 Like the faid bee he'd pirouette, j 
 
 And make a falaam, when he look'd in the face full 
 
 Of his partner, madam, who thought it mod 
 graceful. 
 
 This Captain Carew was an exquifite fwell, 
 And owned the affeftions of many a belle ; 
 
 Of mufic he'd talk 
 
 While dancing a polk ; 
 'Twould have opened the eyes of poor blind 
 
 Belifarius 
 To fee him and Mifs Glibly perform the cellarius ; 
 And Mifs G. would in turn play upon the piano, 
 While he danced with another the varfoviana. 
 Baron Nathan alTerts of illuflrious dancers. 
 
 That Peter invented the " fet " called the 
 " Lancers," 
 
 The ladies, thofe darling and lovely philofophers, 
 
 Declared him to be the mofl charming of officers; 
 
 In giving a toaft or breathing a fentiment, 
 
 Not one was like him in the whole of the regiment.
 
 THE REVELLERS DREAM. 1 9 
 
 But I'm forry to fay 
 
 That this captain fo gay, 
 
 In addition to dancing 
 
 Was alfo advancing 
 
 In numerous purfuits 
 
 Which produced evil fruits. 
 
 It's a fecret worth knowing — 
 
 Tho' I'm not fond of " blowing " 
 The trumpet belonging to fame — 
 
 But it has been reported 
 
 That the captain reforted 
 To the " bottle " — I think that's the name. 
 
 And it's alfo related that fcarce one or two 
 Could sit up and drink, like young Peter Carew, 
 Without feeling dizzy and faying things rude — 
 A flate bed defcribed by a word they call 
 "fere wed." 
 
 One night, after doing a dance and a booze, 
 He went home to bed like a lonely reclufe. 
 And had jufl fallen off in a foft happy fnooze, 
 When the wine he'd been drinking and couldn't 
 
 refufe 
 Concofted a "dream" of the "horrible blues." 
 
 c 2
 
 20 THE REVELLERS DREAM. 
 
 A flrange fort of feeling came into his noddle : 
 
 Tho' ftill half afleep, he thought he muft toddle 
 
 In any direftion but where he was lying ; 
 
 For all forts of goblins came peeping and prying 
 
 With horrible grins, and great faucer eyes, 
 
 And carbuncle nofes, which drinking fupplies. 
 
 Thefe hideous companions kept quietly eyeing 
 
 Poor Peter Carew in his unhappy fix, 
 
 Whofe brain feemed a deluge of Lethe or Styx : 
 
 No flying-fifh, ikimming 
 The water fo bright, 
 
 Could have a " head fwimming " 
 Like Peter that night. 
 
 But the mind, ever aftive on one thing or other, 
 
 Made him think himfelf "Fiili," and the Devil 
 his brother. 
 
 It's flrange the excitement a frenzied brain feels 
 When worked up with wine ; and the nightmare 
 
 reveals 
 " The identical perfon " he thought his relation, 
 And thus, in his " Dream," he began the oration: 
 
 " O Devil ! to thee 
 
 " For fuccour I flee ; 
 " State, flate but thy terms, to all I'll agree ;
 
 THE REVELLERS DREAM. 2 1 
 
 " Releafe me at once, and give me fome quarter; 
 
 " If I'm really a fiili — ' I'm a filli out of water !' 
 
 " Give, give me, dear Devil, the power to lave 
 
 '''Neath the waters fo pure, 'neath the bright 
 briny wave ; 
 
 " For, tho' glorious the earth, 
 
 " Where I firfl derived birth, 
 
 " Since fome vile transformation has made me a 
 ' Fiih, ' 
 
 " The earth and the air, 
 
 " However fo fair, 
 
 " Are ufelefs to me and no longer my wilh." 
 
 He imagined the Devil was (landing before 
 
 Him, and granting him all he could willi to 
 implore ; 
 
 Had he treated him harflily he perhaps might 
 have fainted, 
 
 But found "he was not quite fo black as he's 
 painted." 
 
 Said the Devil — " I grant 
 
 " The water you want ; 
 " I think you'll enlighten at fome future day \ 
 " The remnant that's left of humanity's clay ; 
 " I've watched you for long, and I find you difplay /
 
 22 THE reveller's DREAM. 
 
 " A talent fuperior to mod in their revels, 
 " And a candidate likely to have the ' blue devils.' 
 " You once were a man, but I've made you a 'Triton,' 
 ** You're now in the depths of the ocean, off 
 
 Brighton ; 
 " At prefent you reft on a nice fandy pillow, 
 *' Arrived by the 'header' you took through the 
 billow ; 
 
 " You are near my ' eflate,' 
 
 " I have granted the boon ; 
 " Be refigned to your fate, 
 " I will call again foon." 
 
 Become an aquatic. 
 
 He felt quite ecftatic, 
 
 Tho', much like an eel, 
 
 At times he would feel 
 
 A certain intenfity 
 
 We'll call a propenfity. 
 That when of the ocean he didn't feel fond, 
 
 He'd never defpond, 
 But migrate, Mike a bird,' to another fiili-pond.* 
 
 * In a recent work " On the Pike," by Mr. Pennell, it 
 
 IS
 
 THE reveller's DREAM. 23 
 
 It's a curious affair 
 
 How the eels can get there, 
 And "well worth a quefhion or two I would alk, 
 For it feemeth to be a mofl difficult talk. 
 
 Firft determine their breed — 
 
 For I feel much in need 
 
 Of fome clever authority — 
 
 I would call a majority 
 
 Of pra6tical men, 
 
 Who could fay there and then 
 
 How thefe creatures meander, 
 
 Like any old gander, 
 
 From one pond to another 
 
 Without any bother ; 
 And a friend has alferted that no one can prove 
 An iota or word of their ferpentine love : 
 
 He, being mafonic, 
 
 Thinks it may be platonic. 
 
 But jufl as he'd think of the fubjeft no longer, 
 He floated— good gracious!— againfl a large conger; 
 
 aflerted that the pike has alfo the power of taking the " over- 
 land route " from one pond to another, and has been caught in 
 the a&. of doing fo.
 
 24 THE reveller's DREAM. 
 
 There's one confolation, when he was a man 
 'Twas not a bad difli — let them eat it who can. 
 If you meet with a bull, 
 Tho' you've often been full 
 Of beef, yet it's one thing to have it 
 By way of a bake, 
 Or elfe a rump fteak, 
 If your appetite happens to crave it ; 
 And having the bull or the conger well frizzled 
 Is all very nice ; but I think you'd have mizzled, 
 If in propria perfond either one fliould attack you, 
 Unlefs at your heels you'd the Devil to back you. 
 But the conger iliied off, though I can't tell the 
 
 reafon, 
 Unlefs fuch an aquamarine out of feafon 
 As he might appear, 
 Caufed the " long-back " fome fear ; 
 But certain it is, it put Peter in mind 
 
 That no fort of ill-life that any poor cur fpent 
 Could equal the dread of all dreads he would find, 
 If ever he floated againft the " fea-ferpent." 
 He heard a poor ikate 
 Lamenting her fate, 
 And fadly relate
 
 THE REVELLER S DREAM. 25 
 
 That her hufband, flie heard, was given to trailing 
 After a creature they call a Mifs Grayling ; 
 And another vile wretch — a common An-chovy — 
 Kept fneaking about to entrap her "old covey." 
 
 Had famed Juftice Wilde been a child of the 
 
 ocean, 
 Amongft all the fifli there'd have been a com- 
 motion ; 
 For Peter Carew felt himfelf much afloniflied 
 To find that "loofe fifli " fliould indeed be 
 
 admonilhed, 
 And alfo to fee that a charm or love philter 
 Can a£l on a fpawner as well as a milter. 
 
 It's folly to think, 
 
 Howe'er we may wink, 
 
 That fifh of the fea 
 
 Cannot equally fee 
 As well as ourfelves any cool dereliftion. 
 
 Or feel the affliction 
 
 Of fondefl affeftion 
 So often bellowed in another direftion. 
 
 If the faid Juftice Wilde, with his ufual precifion, 
 Would only pop down and juil give his dccilion,
 
 26 THE reveller's DREAM. 
 
 I'm certain the fifli would be dancing with glee ; 
 
 For in fits of dejeftion 
 
 They'd feel no objeftion 
 To tickle each other with law cofts and fee. 
 
 He fancied he faw 
 
 A lobfler and crab 
 
 Difputing while picking 
 
 A poor little dab ; 
 
 The flrife ran fo fore 
 
 They both got a lickiilg 
 (The combat was almoft "a draw"); 
 
 But the crab did afpire, 
 
 In the heat of his ire, 
 To tear from the lobfler a claw, 
 
 Which he fhuck to, and bore 
 Triumphantly off with the great efl eclat. "^ 
 
 He faw the old fifh, like mortals on earth 
 When they grew up in age, got well up in girth ; 
 And tho' many a florm arofe on the ocean, 
 'Twas as quiet below as mofl folks at devotion. 
 
 * Walker pronounces it e-klaiu ; I therefore take him as a 
 convenient authority for the rhyme.
 
 THE REVELLERS DREAM. 27 
 
 'Twas ftrange he efcaped from the jaws of a 
 fliark ; 
 
 And a "bottle-nofe whale" 
 With a flap of his tail 
 Threw Peter into a quandary ; 
 But being afleep he was fafe in the dark, 
 Tho' prying "the realms of fairy."* 
 
 He faw oyflers and prawns, 
 
 Sword-fifli, with long horns, 
 
 With herrings and codfifli, 
 
 And fome that looked "odd fifti;" 
 
 John O'Dories — good fluff — 
 
 Whales well up in puff, 
 
 " Periwinkle and fhrimp," 
 
 With the poor Ikate they crimp, 
 
 And plenty of falmon — 
 
 Tho' fifhmongers gammon 
 
 To keep up the price 
 
 Becaufe it's fo nice ; 
 But I cannot name. all of the nautical crew 
 Which paffed in his fight like " a fplendid review." 
 
 * « Don Juan."
 
 28 THE reveller's DREAM. 
 
 There's one thing he miiTed — 'twould have been 
 a great treat 
 
 To fee " Father Neptune " enthroned on his feat, 
 
 With his horfes, and alfo his trident in hand, 
 
 And the fair " Amphitrite," his Queen, in com- 
 mand ; 
 
 But from what Peter heard, he had ftarted away 
 
 On a " tour of infpeftion " to Botany Bay. 
 
 What he moltly approved of, and faw well 
 difplayed. 
 
 Was the figure and face of a lovely mermaid. 
 As flie fat in a cavern of cryftal and coral 
 Surrounded by fea-weeds, aquatic and floral. 
 Had her eyes flione on earth like the famed Bafiliik, 
 He'd have run, he'd have fwum, and encounter'd 
 the riik : 
 
 Galvani and Volta could not fhoot a battery 
 Of love as he would do — without any flattery. 
 
 I think we'll drop the curtain now, 
 For fear a frown would not allow ; 
 But — Query : How is Peter's brow ? 
 He got as drunk as " David's fow."
 
 THE REVELLER S DREAM. 29 
 
 Lift, my good friends, my true upholders, 
 
 He fliook the " Old Man" from his flioulders.* 
 
 In the morn, when the fumes of the wine had 
 abated. 
 
 He awoke from his "horrible dream" quite elated, 
 
 Altho' he imagined he'd been all the night 
 
 Subdued by the ocean, and in a wet plight ; 
 
 He felt no regret 
 
 To feel himfelf dry, 
 
 And thought " heavy wet " 
 
 The beft thing to try. 
 
 * "Arabian Nights — Sinbad."
 
 YOUNG LAMBS TO SELL, 
 
 jN the heyday of youth, when I was a 
 boy, 
 
 I ne'er fliall forget how my heart beat 
 
 with joy, 
 When my dearefl Aunt Jenny 
 From her purfe took a penny. 
 And faid — " You ihall have a mod innocent toy ;" 
 
 For mind and obferve, 
 Her auricular nerve 
 Caught loud as it fell 
 That old-fafliioned knell 
 Of " Young lambs to fell! 
 "If I'd as much money as I could tell," &:c. 
 
 The toy having bought. 
 My dear aunt I fought.
 
 32 YOUNG LAMBS TO SELL. 
 
 When with kifs and carefs 
 She exclaimed — "Heaven blefs 
 " And make you, dear Tommy, a good httle child, 
 " Like the lamb in its manners, fo meek and fo 
 
 "mild; 
 " May you ne'er go aflray, or ever turn wild." 
 
 Such were the dreams of my youth ; 
 But fmce I've grown up, forsooth ! 
 I find my aunt told an untruth. 
 
 Whene'er in the meadows by chance you are 
 
 rambling, 
 You'll find that young lambs are devoted to 
 
 " gamb'ling ; " 
 ^'- They lay on the turf," and with "blacklegs" 
 
 afTociate ! 
 Could you ever fpeak worfe of any young 
 
 profligate ? 
 Yet fuch is the life of an innocent lamb. 
 And when mamma dies "he is not worth a dam."
 
 A SEA-SIDE REVERIE. 
 
 PON the iliore where breakers roll, 
 Fulfilling their eternal goal, 
 A female flood with accents mute, 
 As if borne down with grief acute. 
 She from her warm and humble bed — 
 Though by her fide another flept — 
 With flep moft ftealthily had crept, 
 To come that night in fear and dread ; 
 For as flie ran towards the tide, 
 She feemed intent on fuicide. 
 The vital ftreams within her breafl:. 
 Like the rough fea, could gain no reft : 
 She gazed moft eager and intent on 
 The fea, to find the drift 'twas bent on ; 
 For fhe'd a doubt upon her mind, 
 To her of a diftreffing kind. 
 
 D
 
 34 -A. SEA-SIDE REVERIE. 
 
 Her anxious heart would feel elate, 
 Inftead of feeling now diftreiTed, 
 Should in the night the ftorm abate — 
 Her fondefl wiflies would be bleffed ; 
 But now the furge appeared appalling — 
 ''A fiQierman" her hufband's calling. 
 
 The Lady Goldpurfe had come down 
 To rufticate in their fmall village ; 
 'Twas much too little for a town, 
 And more for pafturage than tillage. 
 There flie poffeffed a country feat, 
 With lawns and plants arranged fo neat ; 
 And came before the leaves got fear, 
 At that delightful time of year 
 When nature fmells divinely fweet. 
 
 The Lady Goldpurfe liked a relifli, 
 Her breakfafl-table to embellifh ; 
 And all the niceties in feafon 
 She had — of courfe, in common reafon. 
 Tho' in the winter (lie liked fawns. 
 In fummer flie indulged in prawns ; 
 And for the firft and finefl difli 
 Of this mod fweet cruflaceous fiili.
 
 A SEA-SIDE REVERIE, -jr 
 
 She always gave a handfome prize, 
 Combining quality with fize. 
 
 This kept the fifliwife all night waking, 
 
 Not for her hufband's fafety quaking ; 
 
 For he was fnug at home and fnoring, 
 
 Unmindful of the billows roaring. 
 While file was wifliing in the early morn. 
 The fea fo fmooth that he might go to "prawn." 
 That's why that female ftood aghaft at night, 
 Watching the fea with fuch intenfe affright. 
 
 D 2
 
 THE FLAT IRON. 
 
 A LEGEND OF ST, GILES S. 
 
 Dedicated to My Uncle. 
 
 HERE are peculiar ways of doing trade, 
 And out of trade we know that 
 money 's made ; 
 Like lively maggots crawling in a bowl, 
 We live upon each other heart and foul. 
 But what the abflraft of fuch fweets may be 
 Requires judgment and great nicety ; 
 For few with capital know where to fix 
 Their habitation, ere they "cut their flicks," 
 Finding the thing don't anfwer ; then another 
 Pays for "goodwill" without the flighted bother. 
 Thinking the trade's eftabliflied ; and what then? 
 Before a year has pafTed he cries — "Amen!"
 
 38 THE FLAT IRON. 
 
 Yet fome can live where others would be ftarving, 
 By what is called the happy knack of carving. 
 I'll try if I can illuftrate a point, 
 By one whofe brain was not thought out of 
 joint. 
 
 A man whofe " fign " was " two to one " — 
 
 " Three golden balls," bright like the fun — 
 
 Was well aware of one great faft, 
 
 That out of little much is done, 
 
 And if you multiply the aft, 
 
 Into a large amount 'twill run. 
 
 Among the cuftomers who came 
 
 To pledge their trifles at his fliop, 
 
 Was one poor foul — one Betty Tame — 
 
 Who on the Saturday would pop 
 
 An old "Flat Iron," and the fame 
 
 She always took again from pawn 
 
 The firft thing on the Monday morn. 
 
 Now " Spout " confidered in himfelf, 
 " This is the way to make the pelf — 
 " A monthly interefl for a day 
 " Muft be the fort of thing to pay ;
 
 THE FLAT IRON. 39 
 
 " And every week, too, a new ticket — 
 " A halfpenny more — that's how I nick it." 
 
 So things went on, until of late 
 
 She came not to oppignorate. 
 
 " Spout " thought of her with great regret, 
 
 Until one day he met old Bet, 
 
 And flepping up to her moft eager — 
 
 Jufl as he was, an old intriguer — 
 
 Exclaimed, " God blefs me! how d'ye do? 
 
 " Who would have thought of feeing you! 
 
 " I've often wondered what has been 
 
 " The reafon I have never feen 
 
 " You at my fliop of late ; but flill, 
 
 " I hope that you have not been ill, 
 
 " Although you look a little pale, 
 
 "What fay you, Betty, to fome ale? 
 
 " 'Twill cheer your heart and warm your blood, 
 
 " And p'rhaps do you ' a world of good.'" 
 
 " Oh ! Sir — indeed, the truth to tell, 
 
 " I'd call as I have done for years, 
 
 " But that an accident befell — 
 
 (Here Betty's eyes were dimmed with tears)- —
 
 40 THE FLAT IRON. 
 
 "The poor 'Flat Iron,' which I had 
 " So many years, at lafl got bad, 
 " And — true a word as e'er I fpoke — 
 "Fell from my carelefs hand — and broke.' 
 
 " Oh! Betty, don't let that caufe forrow, 
 ' ' But come into my fliop to-morrow, 
 "And, out of old acquaintance' fake, 
 " With pleafure from my flock I'll take 
 " An iron that is fpick-fpan new, 
 "And as an off'ring make to you." 
 
 They parted with a mutual feeling, 
 Old "Covetous" his thoughts concealing, 
 And Betty with a grateful heart 
 To think (he'd got another ftart. 
 
 As ufe becomes a fecond nature. 
 
 So fared it with the poor old creature ; 
 
 The fame old game flie ufed to play 
 
 Commenced again next Saturday. 
 
 From then, and ever after that, 
 
 The iron, which they name "The Flat," 
 
 Produced its value o'er and o'er. 
 
 Enough to buy a bumping fcore.
 
 THE FLAT IRON. 
 
 41 
 
 Moral. 
 
 Lay well your bait to catch the fifli, 
 As old " Spout " did, to gain his wifli ; 
 And thus you'll find that a falfe kindnefs 
 Is often fwallowed up in blindnefs.
 
 SAINT CRISPIN. 
 
 THE 
 
 TITULAR SAINT OF SHOEMAKERS
 
 SAINT CRISPIN. 
 
 THE TITULAR SAINT OF SHOEMAKERS, 
 
 'VE heard of a thread — " the thread of 
 a theme," 
 And alfo of thread they ufe in a feam ; 
 But one's for a poet, the next for a tailor. 
 And " long yarn's " the ufual thread of a failor. 
 Ariadne the fair, by the clue of a thread. 
 
 From the Lab'rinth her Thefeus mofl cunningly 
 led.* 
 
 The daughters of Noxf fpin the thread of our 
 life; 
 
 And a god once fpun thread for the fake of a 
 
 wife. I 
 Penelope's web was a thready difplay, 
 Undoing at night what die did in the day : 
 She kept all her troublefome fuitors at bay. 
 
 * Minotaur. 
 
 f The Fates. 
 
 J Omphale.
 
 46 SAINT CRISPIN. 
 
 But my proper thread a "Wax-end" fhall be, 
 As more in confidence with "cobblery." 
 So fpin away now, my merry "Wax-end," 
 In an ambling pace my wiflies befriend ; 
 If anything knotty fliould run in the vein, 
 Be careful, and don't let's entangle the fkein. 
 
 Bibo Bibere mended fhoes, 
 
 His pious wife attended pews. 
 
 To fweep, to clean, and make them tidy, 
 
 Ready for Sunday or for Friday, 
 
 And fmging-days when they rehearfe. 
 
 But Friday fuits me in the verfe. 
 
 Whene'er you write a word, 
 No matter how you time it. 
 
 To alter looks abfurd, 
 
 As if you couldn't rhyme it. 
 
 While the pried was preaching at church, 
 Where fmners are taught the things they lliould do, 
 And efpecially thofe they ought to efchew, 
 Bibo upon his ufual perch, 
 Tho' not given to pray 
 At that time of day, 
 Was mending the " foles " of a different crew.
 
 SAINT CRISPIN. 47 
 
 Of jobs on hand he always had 
 A fpecimen of good and bad, 
 And when folks brought a well-worn flioe 
 He'd fee how much there was to do ; 
 His time and price would then accord ; 
 But if he found the cafh they'd hoard, 
 And fay they couldn't much afford. 
 He didn't fay he wouldn't do it : 
 Inftead of ditching he would glue it ; 
 And by example let them find 
 It's better not a fnob to grind. 
 
 His wife was a Catholic woman ; 
 
 She had alfo a heavenly nofe ; 
 
 But as far as that goes, 
 
 You're not led to fuppofe 
 
 Her nofe was by any means Roman ; 
 
 Its heavenly tendency turned to the skies — 
 
 Retrouffe^ 
 
 As the French would fay — 
 
 And divided a pair of lovely blue eyes. 
 
 Her complexion was fair, with nut-brown hair. 
 
 And pearly teeth, with which few could com- 
 pare ;
 
 48 SAINT CRISPIN. 
 
 Such a fweet pretty mouth, with a curl to the lip, 
 Which greatly fubdued the nofe at the tip. 
 
 Her figure was neither fliort nor tall, 
 But a medium proportion between the two — 
 Its gen'ral contoftr handfome you'd call — 
 With a very fmall foot, and on it a flioe, 
 With half a glance there could be no miftake 
 But that it was one of Bibo's "beft make." 
 
 There's a lott'ry in life in choofmg a wife, 
 
 Midfl the chances and ways of the doing ; 
 For you'll find, tho' you're rife, 
 There may yet be fome ftrife 
 
 In the method of cooing and wooing ; 
 
 For men are like cherries, the fined and beft 
 
 Are always henpecked — no one cares for the 
 reft. 
 
 In fearching for blifs 
 
 May you meet with a Mifs — 
 
 — fortune — divided in half like my lines 
 
 (Forgive me for fev'ring the two I fuggeft) : 
 
 In the eyes of the world it moft furely opines 
 
 A much better chance if you wifli to be bleft ;
 
 SAINT CRISPIN, 49 
 
 For when you've a Mifs with fortune attached, 
 
 " Golden dreams " — '' golden eggs " — are fure to 
 be hatched. 
 
 When preffed for a rhyme, it's a good way by 
 "fplit— 
 
 — ting hairs " — or p'rhaps words, for it feems it's 
 admit — 
 
 — ted — "poetical targets" — the bull's-eye to hit, 
 
 Like a bul-let it flies with abundance of wit. 
 
 " Variety is charming," but our wives 
 
 Don't feem to entertain the fame opinion ; 
 
 They rather think that flie who bed contrives 
 
 Should o'er the houfehold hold the great 
 dominion ; 
 
 And by a fond perfuafion, not by force. 
 
 Prove " the grey mare to be the better horfe." 
 
 Or read us curtain leftures when we jfland 
 
 Befide the fanftlty of her bed-poft, 
 Expecting queftlons anfwered quite off-hand. 
 
 While we're perfonifying "Pepper's ghoft ; " 
 And whilft our purfes have the power to flow. 
 Declare that " money makes the mare to go." 
 
 E
 
 50 SAINT CRISPIN. 
 
 If I could bait my pen 
 
 As fifliermen do hooks, 
 Perchance there might be men 
 
 Who'd patronife my books ; 
 And tho' my lines may be 
 
 Compofed of diff'rent thread, 
 I only hope to fee 
 
 Their chance of being read. 
 However, on I go, 
 
 Regardlefs as to that — 
 I'm not the firfl below 
 
 Who's given out the "fprat," 
 Without at all inferring 
 That I fliall " catch the herring." 
 
 I know not if the world has grown fedate, 
 And entered into a more ferious ftate ; 
 But fadly, folemnly do I relate, 
 That rifibility is out of date. 
 
 Unlefs by chance we meet a giggling maid, 
 The elder ones appear demure and (laid ; 
 And fome don't laugh becaufe their teeth are faid 
 To be imperfeft when they are difplayed.
 
 SAINT CRISPIN. 
 
 51 
 
 But '■'■ laughter" certainly did once abound ; 
 However flight the thought on which 'twas ground, 
 Its merry, happy peals, would oft refound, 
 Whene'er fome fterling wit or jeft was found. 
 
 In thefe hard days of thought and enterprife, 
 Each one upon his energy relies, 
 And half the pleafures of the world denies — 
 With fome from need, others to aggrandize. 
 
 But in the prefent day and prefent tenfe. 
 Hilarity is not thought common fenfe ; 
 To laugh aloud is reckoned an offence. 
 And favours much of verdant innocence. 
 
 " Laugh and grow fat " was faid to parties thin ; 
 
 "A jolly laugh," and not a puny grin, 
 
 To curb the ebullition felt within ; 
 
 But now 'tis only " Let thofe laugh that win." 
 
 Obefity's not pleafant, and one "Banting" 
 Compofed a work, upon that theme defcanting. 
 To put an end to all aflhmatic panting, 
 And modify a wcafy aftor's ranting. 
 
 E 2
 
 5.2 SAINT CRISPIN. 
 
 His fcrews upon the feelings quite confound 
 
 one : 
 A hearty " Ha ! ha ! " really would aftound one. 
 Take any lengthy march, and I'll be bound one 
 Has fcarce been met that felt inclined to found 
 
 one. 
 
 I'm delighted to find the world's getting better : 
 
 Altho' I'd give vent, ftill I feel there's a fetter 
 
 To curb every thought that would "kick over 
 traces." 
 
 "I'll fmg humble pie," for fear that fome faces 
 
 Might draw a "long mug" with a " nut-cracker 
 chin," 
 
 As they purfe up their mouth, and exclaim, " Oh ! 
 what fm," 
 
 That in thefe days of grace 
 
 Any one fliould mifplace 
 
 A word with a doubt, which would make a foul 
 ponder, 
 
 And find, after all, it is double entendre. 
 
 Had the great Rabelais 
 Been alive at this day, 
 He'd have found himfelf muzzled and little to fay ;
 
 SAINT CRISPIN. ^^ 
 
 Like the poor canine tribe, he'd have found a 
 prevention 
 
 Put over his caput to ftop the intention. 
 
 O Lights of the Pad ! where is Swift ? where is 
 Sterne ? 
 
 And the " great Alexander"? — I mean little Pope: 
 
 Tho' your body was crooked your mind had a fcope, 
 
 That, while language lliall laft, 
 
 You can ne'er be o'ercaft, 
 
 But your eloquence radiant eternally burn ; 
 
 But if your"iliade"fliould meet me — fay to-night— 
 
 I'd tell you one thing — which was not polite — 
 
 For which you're blamed, and I'll not take your 
 part ; 
 
 But 'tis reported you did falfely fay, 
 
 To trufting hufbands' and their wives' difmay, 
 
 " That ev'ry woman is a rake at heart ;" 
 
 And then that greater libel you let fall — 
 
 " Moil women have no charafters at all." 
 
 Until we meet the fubjeft mud: remain 
 For ev'ry man and wife to quibble over ; 
 And you of courfe the fecret will retain, 
 Since you're the only man who could difcover 
 This "bitter pill" for ev'ry faithful lover.
 
 54 SAINT CRISPIN, 
 
 But as your mind farcaflically waged, 
 
 We cannot wonder that fometimes, enraged, 
 
 You'd "fpit your fpite" upon "the weaker velTel," 
 
 And form a "Tartar" for poor man to wreflle — 
 
 An unexpefted one for him to "catch" — 
 
 And prove a "lord of the creation's" match. 
 
 But as you probably were never wed, 
 
 I think 'twas fpleen by which your brain was led, 
 
 To raife up doubts upon our marriage beds, 
 
 And fet both men and wives at "loggerheads." 
 
 Cafeley has lludied "The Rape of the Lock," 
 
 And help'd himfelf well to the jeweller's flock ; 
 
 But his ikill would have been on the wrong " fide 
 of Jordan," 
 
 If the fafe had been made by the famed Samfon 
 Mordan. 
 
 Talking of Samfon recalls to my mind 
 A chapter I fancy in Judges you'll find, 
 Where Delilah (whofe conduft all modefty fliocks) 
 Found Samfon's "fafeguard" was contained in 
 his " locks." 
 
 This is a fa£l I've derived from the Bible, 
 And inferting it here gives no action for libel.
 
 SAINT CRISPIN. 55 
 
 Bibo, 'twas reported, was "up to fnuff," 
 
 But not for his nofe — he preferred a puff 
 
 Of tafty tobacco by way of a fmoke ; 
 
 He could fing a good fong, and crack a good 
 
 joke, 
 And a fly bit of fun at his neighbours poke. 
 Sometimes, irafcible, he'd in a ftorm 
 Of indignation fpeak about the "Rights 
 " Of Man," and then about a " Great Reform " 
 Some people look upon as only blights ; 
 But " Univerfal Suffrage" will fome day 
 Proclaim the "Age of Reafon" bears the fway. 
 
 If any of them " came it ftrong," 
 
 Or drew "the bow that's chrifl:ened long," 
 
 To aft on his credulity ; 
 
 It always was a rule that he 
 
 Would never fay they lied ; 
 But put his thumb unto his nofe. 
 If in his mind a doubt arofe, 
 
 And fpread his fingers wide. 
 To put your thumb unto your nofe, 
 And then fuppofe
 
 56 SAINT CRISPIN. 
 
 Your little finger an extender, 
 
 Merely means — " To take a fight " — 
 " Over the left" — " Over the bender" — 
 
 Nearly fynonymous, or quite, 
 Tranflated in a vulgar light ; 
 Tho' not uncivil 
 An a6i: — I've as much right to handle too 
 As any one — " to hold the candle to 
 Old Nick, the Devil." 
 
 Of beer he ne'er cried " Jam fat is "* — enough, 
 Or the other oration, 
 Or rather quotation. 
 When he took a potation — • 
 I mean what the doctors call " quantum fiiff^ 
 I'm writing now of beer, 
 
 Tho' Horace wrote of fnow ; 
 But mine's the better cheer — 
 At leafh I'm thinking fo. 
 
 By Horace and fnow I will not be outdone ; 
 But open my portholes and run out a gun. 
 Or elfe have a tilt, for the fake of mere fun. 
 
 * Horace, Ode 2, vol. i.
 
 SAINT CRISPIN. 57 
 
 . Preflo ! I've got it in a trice ; 
 
 Inftead of fnow, I'll take to ice — 
 
 In fummer-time it's very nice. 
 
 So liften to a friend's advice — 
 
 In faft you'd better note it 
 
 Precifely as I quote it : — 
 When third is great and appetite tiny, 
 Don't drink hot grog — try '■'• frigidum sine." 
 
 'Twas all Greek to him about Sardanapalus, 
 Yet he ran like a man, " flap bang," to an alehoufe. 
 
 One went for a rhyme ; 
 
 The other would chime. 
 
 When he found the beer bad, " ' Odds bodkins,' 
 
 your ale is 
 " As rank as a /ox-glove (verfe fays digitalis) ; 
 " 'Twill poifon us all, and no doubt entail us 
 " A namelefs retreat — not a treat to regale us." 
 Tautology bluflies at Sardanapalus. 
 
 Suppoflng he knew not, as many do not, 
 
 The root of a verb, becaufe he forgot ; 
 
 As a rapier gets dull when laid in a fcabbard, 
 
 Though once 'twould have pundlurcd the fliell of 
 a crab hard,
 
 58 SAINT CRISPIN. 
 
 Yet being good jfleel, tho' it's covered with ruft, 
 The weapon is there, if you open the cruft. 
 
 Meet with a fool with money in his purfe, 
 Altho' his mind's not worth a "tinker's curfe," 
 If he's furrounded by a fponging crew, 
 Clap on your hat and bid them all adieu ; 
 For if you flay the chances are you'll rue. 
 And have occafion to cry out ^'- par Dieu'' 
 If any controverfy fhould arife — 
 Altho' your argument may be correct, 
 Back'd by good fenfe, and offered with re- 
 fpeft— 
 
 You'll find too late, and with difpleafed furprife, 
 
 Becaufe you differ, tho' you're in the right. 
 
 Still they'll proclaim and tell you you are 
 wrong, 
 
 To pleafe the poor demented, brainlefs wight ; 
 
 And what he chants they echo to his fong, 
 
 Juft like a lot of silly donkeys braying, 
 
 Confounding ev'ry word that you'd be faying, 
 
 And by their brutal force of lungs revealing 
 
 That where no fenfe is given, there's no feeling.
 
 SAINT CRISPIN. 59 
 
 Old poets ufed to make a verfe 
 Upon their "loves" expatiating, 
 
 And in long lines, too, would rehearfe 
 Their tortures mofl excruciating. 
 
 Fancy making verfes now. 
 Or to compofe a fonnet, 
 "Unto my miflrefs' eyebrow," 
 And all the hairs upon it. 
 
 Thofe days are gone by — 
 
 It's no ufe to try ; 
 The world's getting fly to new dodges 
 
 Since gunpowder-treafon ; 
 
 With common fenfe — reafon — 
 All our fires are put out by " Hodges." 
 
 There's the "Prince of the land," 
 
 With a " Duke " clofe at hand, 
 Who make it a fource of employment ; 
 
 If your houfe catches fire. 
 
 It's their great eft defire 
 To give you their time as enjoyment. 
 
 Then drink we fuccefs 
 
 To the caufe they carefs ;
 
 6o SAINT CRISPIN. 
 
 May they ne'er meet diflrefs, 
 Nor their " Ihadows grow lefs !" 
 
 'Tis jolly to live and enjoy onefelf ; 
 
 'Tis jolly to do what we like with our pelf — 
 
 That is, prefuming a man is not hard up ; 
 
 In that cafe 'tis ufelefs the pocket to guard up : 
 
 But Bibo, tho' not an extravagant fellow, 
 
 Without money found it at leafh inconvenient 
 
 When he liked to go out and make himfelf 
 mellow, 
 
 And often wiflied Fortune a little more lenient. 
 
 Bibo was thirfty, and, wanting fome beer, 
 
 He felt in his pocket with fomething like fear ; 
 
 For, tho' in that pocket at times a believer, 
 
 Occafions occurred when it proved a deceiver. 
 
 He fought from the top to the bottom of it. 
 
 But could not find even a " threepenny bit." 
 
 With a look of difmay and defperate gripe. 
 
 He clutched the remains of a fliort broken pipe ; 
 
 And then with a vengeance he fwore by St. Jago, 
 
 As if his poor back had a touch of lumbago. 
 
 Oh ! poor Bo Bibere, 
 
 There's no relief:
 
 SAINT CRISPIN. 6 I 
 
 You're " come to grief," 
 And in a fad (late of mifery ; 
 Not even a pipe, that chief of confolers, 
 Admitted by all who are jolly cheek jowlers. 
 
 Oh ! facred place, where fmgle friars, 
 By being taught to curb defires. 
 And mortifying all that's evil, 
 Efcape the clutches of the Devil ; 
 When in a Salamander drefs 
 They have the pow'r to curfe or blefs. 
 And ever ready for confeffion 
 (A vital point in their profeiTion), 
 Monk or friar, whate'er their grade is. 
 Are always ready for the ladies. 
 Women, women ! is it treafon 
 To alk you to explain the reafon, 
 And tell us why your fouls appear 
 Than ours to priefts fo much more dear ,? 
 
 Confeffion! wondrous pow'r! which firfl fpreads 
 
 like a veil 
 Of gauze, but foon becomes as hard as adamant. 
 Once let its fubtle influence o'er the mind prevail, 
 And then refiftance's lofl for ever to recant.
 
 62 SAINT CRISPIN. 
 
 Gone! hopelefs! gone! the precious liberty of 
 
 life, 
 Producing grief and torture to the haplefs wife. 
 
 * 
 
 And thou, poor hufband of that wife divorced 
 In all but name! Her mind, that noble part 
 Which once was all thine own, is now enforced 
 By one who knows the fecrets of her heart 
 Far better than in all thy dreams of love 
 Thou hadfl the capability to prove : 
 Her body ftill is left at thy control, 
 But he ufurps the empire of her foul. 
 
 Pray do the nuns whofe intermural lives 
 Deprive them of the chance of being wives. 
 And monks who both in folitude and fmgle. 
 Ne'er with the nuns in converfation mingle ? 
 Are thofe foft, tender feelings, which the heart 
 Can no more difannul than bid depart. 
 Left blank for ever by a life auftere. 
 Denying all the outer world holds dear ? 
 If fo, 'tis fhrange how they can live content 
 Without the great enchantment Nature fent ;
 
 SAINT CRISPIN. 6^ 
 
 Immured in living tombs, thofe great farcophagi'* 
 Confuming human flefli like Anthropophagi. 
 
 While we're with daily cares opprefl, 
 Are we to think thofe maids at reft ? 
 God help their fouls ! I hope they're bleft, 
 
 And yet I cannot fee it : 
 Altho' in fombre clothes they're dreft, 
 And after they are all confeft, 
 Their innate feelings they'd inveft 
 
 As Nature's laws decree it. 
 " If wifhing and the crime are one, " f 
 There muft be fomething wicked done 
 Either by tacit thought or afl : 
 
 What pow'r have they to help it ? 
 I know not how may ftand the faft. 
 Or what they do to counteraft, 
 
 Whatever we may yelp it ; 
 For well we know that human nature 
 At certain ages muft be mature ; 
 
 * Peculiar {tones of which coffins were anciently made, 
 and fo called becaufe they quickly confume the flefli. 
 
 f Little's Poems.
 
 64 SAINT CRISPIN. 
 
 And is it really a religious zeal 
 
 Thefe monks and friars in their confcience feel 
 While gazing on fuch fcenes of lovely delegation ? 
 Or do they leave the nuns to pine with flieer 
 vexation ? 
 
 'Tis ftrange, but true, when Time, which levels 
 
 all, 
 And nunn'ries crumble to their lafl foundations. 
 That workmen, when they have to overhaul 
 Thofe ruins, find amidfl their excavations 
 Hundreds of infants' ficeletons — each bone 
 A proof that nuns don't always live alone.* 
 
 * Foreign Convents. — "In 1829, at Charenton-fur-Seine, 
 near Paris, I was engaged on the works of Manby and Wilfon, 
 under Mr. Holroyd, the engineer of the works, when, time 
 after time, large numbers of infant flceletons were difcovered 
 in all parts of the premifes, which I believe had been a con- 
 vent of a veiy ftrifl order of nuns. At firft we did not take 
 much notice of the circumftance ; but when the attention of 
 Mr. Holroyd and Mr. Armftrong was called to the fmgular 
 affair, we were direfted to count the remains ; and from that 
 day we counted, and placed to one fide, no lefs than 387 
 entire flceletons of Infants. We took no account of parts of 
 flceletons, which, if they had been all put together, would have 
 far outnumbered the entire ones which were counted. I fpeak 
 far within bounds when I fay that there were found not fewer
 
 SAINT CRISPIN. 6^ 
 
 Some think it right to call a pried a "Father," 
 But the paternity I would deny, 
 Unlefs it's meant to be a fign or token, 
 "For oft a true word may in jefl be fpoken." 
 I hate hypocrify ! and I would rather 
 Bequeath a curfe to my own progeny, 
 Than they fliould fall into the trap that's fet 
 By Rome to catch them in its fatal net. 
 
 We little know the pranks of Romifli friars, 
 
 The where, and how, they gratify defires ; 
 
 To keep them chafle (altho' the cafe is hard), 
 
 I'd have them all like Peter Abelard. 
 
 " Truth, like the radiant fweets of virgin- 
 bees,"* 
 
 In the fame foil admits of no degrees ; 
 
 Tho' my capacity to reach the goal 
 
 Be weak, yet flrong's the purpofe of my foul. 
 
 than the remains of 800 children ; and there was not a fingle 
 bone of an adult perfon among them. The Mayor came to 
 the premifes, and had the bones placed in boxes, and privately 
 buried in the cemetery ; and orders were given to hufh up the 
 affair." — Copy from " The Daily Telegraph." 
 
 * Struan.
 
 66 SAINT CRISPIN. 
 
 Young priefls and nuns jufl ent'ring into life, 
 
 Paufe ! ere ye crofs the threfliold of your doom ; 
 Nobly attempt the world's capricious ftrife 
 
 Than yield your lives to mifery and gloom, 
 Left, taught by wicked doctrines to forego 
 
 The laws ordained by Nature to fulfil, 
 You make religion but a raree-fliow, 
 
 Gainful alone to thofe who would inftil 
 That what they fay is right, and Nature wrong, 
 
 That you may join their foul fallacious throng. 
 Seductive are the meflies that are woven 
 
 To lure the fenfes with their blandiiliment : 
 The fplendid robes which cover fomething "cloven," 
 
 Like panoplies which few can penetrate ; 
 With mummeries that are outlandifli, fent 
 
 As baits to tempt the viftims to their fate ; 
 The mellow'd lights, and all the gorgeous trappings, 
 As hollow as the faith in "fpirit rappings ; " 
 The folemn choir, where blend the dulcet ftrains. 
 To thrill the heart and melt the softeft brains ; 
 With all thofe fcenic, mafterly achievements. 
 Producing in our homes thofe fad bereavements, 
 And caufmg pangs in parents' breafts, devoid 
 Of daughters furreptitioufly decoyed —
 
 SAINT CRISPIN. G'] 
 
 Thefe are the agencies fo freely given 
 
 To blind the mind and lead aftray from heaven. 
 
 But in the depth, the centre of the whole 
 
 (Like that famed apple on the Dead Sea fliore — 
 
 So fair without ; like aflies to its core), 
 
 Inflead of leading to a pious goal, 
 
 'Twould warp the heart and paralyze the foul. 
 
 Great are the fymbols which our God has given 
 To elevate the mind — dired to heaven ; 
 And men with fenfe feel nervelefs to refute 
 Examples taught them by th' inferior brute. 
 The fmallefl infeft that we tread on earth 
 Bears in it evidence of wondrous birth ; 
 And with intricate mechanifm vies 
 With other forms, tho' multiplied in fize. 
 Swift on the wing the piebald fwallow flies, 
 Rejoicing in the warmth of fummer Ikies 
 (That welcome harbinger of coming fpring). 
 Whence is the inflinft ? or what gift fupplies 
 That guiding ftar — that inborn power — to bring 
 From Afric's coaft the little wand'rer back, 
 True in its courfe, without a chart to track 
 
 F 2
 
 68 SAINT CRISPIN. 
 
 Through weary leagues from that warm clime it 
 
 leaves, 
 To feek its native home beneath our eaves ? 
 Nature's the page Omnipotence difplays 
 To coiU"t inquiry in her fecret ways ; 
 So fair a book ! where revelation beams 
 In one eternal blaze of endlefs ftreams — 
 Where Science grounds her work upon the laws 
 Of one unerring, one Almighty caufe ; 
 And tho' we feek in diff'rent ways to fliow 
 Our gratitude for gifts that daily flow. 
 Dear on the record of our hearts Ihould be 
 That liberality of mind, to fee 
 That each pofleiTmg reafon may enjoy 
 His own religion without falfe alloy ; 
 But where ufurping on another's right. 
 The whole becomes a curfe — a deadly blight. 
 Show me the creed enlightenment can blend 
 Propitious in its courfe to reach the end : 
 There would I be a worfliipper in heart, 
 Till death proclaimed the moment to depart. 
 
 I fee around a poor illit'rate race, 
 
 Scarce one remove from inftinft-foul difgrace ;
 
 SAINT CRISPIN. 69 
 
 Aik their religion, and they only fay 
 That abfolution takes their fins away. 
 
 Ablution's better than an abfolution ; 
 And " aqua pura " faves us from pollution ; 
 Tho' 'tis not holy by a prieflly bleffing 
 To my poor mind that never is diftreffing ; 
 But I thank Nature, who in kindnefs gave 
 So pure an element for us to lave ; 
 Since " cleanlinefs is next to godlinefs," 
 We cannot but the falient truth confefs, 
 That he who's fond of taking a lavation 
 Mufh be upon the high road of falvation. 
 If we but knew that death would fettle all. 
 The punifhment of fms would ne'er appal ; 
 Then might fome vices oft the fenfes tempt. 
 Reliant on the thought "from wrong exempt." 
 But confcience curbs us when we would com- 
 mence 
 Aught that would turn the fcale of common fenfe ; 
 And, tho' beyond the pow'r of human fcope, 
 Our reafon judiiies us in the hope 
 Of changes yet to come — when we fliall be 
 Called to our mother earth by death's decree.
 
 7© SAINT CRISPIN. 
 
 I'm very fond of what is called digrefling, 
 
 Although the time we take may be but brief; 
 
 It gives a man more freedom in expreffing ; 
 
 And changing fubjefts is a great relief. 
 
 But yet the theme which my " Wax-end" is bent 
 on 
 
 You'll find he's not forgotten, but intent on. 
 
 Oh ! poor benighted creatures, like a flock 
 Of flieep ! The wily father's laughing-ftock ! 
 He ne'er could thrive unlefs the Devil's hand 
 Propped up his throne to curfe Italia' s land, 
 And would intrude, by his falfe "right divine," 
 Upon our fliores, becaufe we are fupine. 
 Truth needs no malk — a faft's a fl:ubbom thing. 
 Loud may the tocfin through the country ring. 
 ^' Up, guards ! and at them ! " ere the upas tree 
 Sprouts out its leaves, to poifon all that's free. 
 
 I've often wondered why an Oxford parfon 
 Will leave his creed as if accufed of arfon ; 
 And, after having made our Church fo hot. 
 He then departs to Rome to "boil his pot." 
 There mufl be certain myfteries 
 Beyond the ken of outward eyes —
 
 SAINT CRISPIN. 71 
 
 Some fountain, fpring, or under-current, 
 Some deep, fome underground event. 
 Bad at the beft, and dill abhorrent. 
 1 own like others I've a predileftion 
 To write a curfe or dreadful malediftion ; 
 And Brother Ignatius, 
 At Briflol, good gracious ! 
 Attempted another which feems quite audacious ; 
 The thing is abfurd and put down as fallacious, 
 Excepting with monks who are always rapacious. 
 I'd write a curfe, if I'd the tools to work ; 
 I'll name thofe tools — fee how I make a quirk. 
 Had I a raw flick 
 Of lunar cauftic 
 By way of a pen, 
 I'd do it then. 
 With a dip of acetic 
 To a£l as emetic, 
 I'd make it fplenetic 
 And rather prophetic, 
 Each word fliould fall 
 " Bitter as gall." 
 Think of the " Inquifition," 
 Once in great requifition — 
 
 '^
 
 72 SAINT CRISPIN. 
 
 The tackles 
 And fliackles, 
 
 The gyves and the pains, 
 
 The dungeons and chains, 
 
 With all forts of teafers 
 
 Like pliers and tweezers. 
 
 To pull out the nails. 
 
 Humanity quails, 
 
 And language half fails 
 
 To depift all the doings 
 
 When they brought frames to ruins. 
 
 Remember the " rack," 
 
 How it made the limbs crack. 
 With thumb-fcrews and all the fad parapher- 
 nalia, 
 Concofted to make up the hellilli regalia. 
 
 How they all felt delighted 
 
 When the faggots ignited, 
 
 And the doomed heretics 
 
 Were burnt up like bricks ; 
 
 Each one called a gentile 
 
 They'd roafl like a pantile. 
 
 With fire and fulphur 
 
 That made them all gulp ah !
 
 SAINT CRISPIN. 73 
 
 While the ftench of the bodies, as reeking it 
 rofe, 
 
 Was the finefl of fcent to the Catholic nofe. 
 
 How they glutted and boafted 
 
 As the poor creatures roafted ! 
 
 When King Ferdinand * 
 
 (The Pope his right hand) 
 
 Thought proper and fit 
 
 To call Holy Writ 
 As a juftification and myflical part 
 Of the teachings the fanatics learnt fo by heart, 
 By which they deluded their ignorant ftate, 
 And trembled for fear they might iliare the fame 
 fate. 
 
 Still, without any acid, 
 
 I'll not become placid, 
 
 But will " pitch ahead " rapid, 
 
 Leaving out all the vapid ; 
 For in thee, dear "Wax-end," I've reliance and 
 
 hope; 
 I'll fpin and enlarge thee — I'll make thee a rope. 
 
 * The Spanilh Inquifition, full eroded by King Ferdinand 
 and the Pope.
 
 74 SAINT CRISPIN. 
 
 By-the-bye, dear " Wax-end," 
 Why did we ne'er attend 
 
 To tie up the brothers they call Davenport ? 
 If they only had us, 
 With their humbug and fufs, 
 They would find all their fport 
 Would be briefly cut fliort ; 
 
 We'd bind them fo tightly, fo knotty and 
 " taut," 
 
 That profanenefs itfelf and aught preternat'ral 
 
 Would be fpiritlefs, wriggling about on the 
 lateral. 
 
 There are great fecrets we fhall never know, 
 Unlefs we graduate as priefts, and go 
 To "Tiber's City," and then kifs the toe 
 Of Pio — alias him they call Nono ; — 
 But God forbid we ever fliould do fo, 
 Let's underftand the word to mean — no ! no ! 
 If any prieft fliould e'er efl^ay to try us, 
 I hope he'fl find that we are not " Pope pious," 
 Tho' he may fit and blufter bulls and thunder — 
 They'll end in fmoke, like any " nine days' 
 wonder."
 
 SAINT CRISPIN. 75 
 
 We hear of ftrange things with the Lawns and 
 the Ermines, 
 
 Tho' high their pofition, yet good fenfe determines 
 That a wrong cannot be a right man in the place 
 Concerning the welfare and laws of our race ; — 
 A decifion there may be in matters terreflrial, 
 But I think not in thofe which we call the celeflial. 
 Dame Nature's laid down as a maxim moll kind, 
 That each different head has a different mind ; 
 It may be the realon fo feldom we find 
 That two of a trade can in unity bind. 
 
 I can't underftand why the Biiliop of Natal, 
 
 When tried by fome heads, who declare it is fatal 
 
 (As they fit in conclave and fay it's quite wrong) 
 
 That a blackbird fliould dare to chant his own 
 fong. 
 
 By all that is good — by the Great Pow'r that gave 
 us 
 
 A reafon to think and to 3.6i for the bed — 
 
 Should two or three brains claim the great right 
 to fave us, 
 
 And ignore all the fenfe that's bellowed on the 
 reft.?
 
 76 SAINT CRISPIN. 
 
 If I were a judge on such delicate ground 
 (Tho' arguments trite may be eafily found), 
 To another man's diftum I'd ne'er be a minion, 
 But would let ev'ry man (till enjoy his opinion. 
 Remember " Quot homines, tot fententice ; " 
 To believe not's a fpecies of magnas dementiiE : 
 This fubjeft has bother'd the minds of all men fo ; 
 Yet who knows who's right in the cafe of 
 Colenfo ? 
 
 Revere as we may do "The Thirty-nine Articles," 
 Still, errors there may be, in fome of the particles ; 
 They are but decifions of poor frail humanity, 
 And thought moflly of for the fake of urbanity ; 
 If any fubfcribe without raifmg objections 
 They can't complain after of any deceptions. 
 However in time they may form new conceptions — 
 As a man who attaches his name to a bill, 
 For good or for ill, he is bound to it flill ; 
 Or when a man's fixed in a tight pair of boots. 
 He feels moll: acutely the corn when it flioots. 
 
 It's well to enlighten our minds with the fa£l: 
 That as paribus do preach they don't always aft ;
 
 SAINT CRISPIN. 77 
 
 Tho' fome may be pious, there're others I think 
 Who are tarr'd with a different fort of a link ; 
 From time immemorial we know it's no fin 
 Believing that monks fortify well within ; 
 And every dainty this world can afford 
 Is fure to be found nicely fpread on their board — 
 Or how can it be that thofe vile flagellations,* 
 With penances, fads, and all rough caftigations, 
 Can ever be looked at as mere delegations. 
 The wear and the tear 
 The body mud bear 
 Requires at leaft a generous fare. 
 No one can deny 
 There mufl be a demand, 
 
 And then a fupply. 
 From the fat of the land. 
 By this it would feem 
 That water-gruel 
 Is not the fuel 
 " To get up their fleam." 
 We are led to opine 
 
 * Flagellants, a fraternity in the Thirteenth century, who 
 preferred whij^ping to martyrdom, and held that scourging one 
 another was the chief virtue in Chriftianity.
 
 yS SAINT CRISPIN. ■ 
 
 How happy they dine, 
 And drink away at the befl of wine ; 
 How they chuckle and laugh 
 As their cups they quaff, 
 And freely confefs the refeftory bell 
 To the ears of a monk's a fav'rite knell. 
 We very well know a flogging don't fuit 
 The back of a full able-bodied recruit ; 
 The " cat-o'-nine-tails " is a penance too flrong 
 For humanity's laws, and can't be borne long : 
 The monks doubtlefs ufed a more delicate thong. 
 Were they ever yet known to go off in a fwoon ? 
 As the Yankees would fay, "or as dead as a 
 
 coon ?" 
 Yet fuch with our foldiers is often the cafe — 
 A ftigma — a flur — a iiendiili difgrace — 
 A blot on the 'fcutcheon of England's proud 
 face. 
 
 We left Bibo thinking 
 Of pipes and of drinking ; 
 And there he fat brewing 
 Of what they were doing, 
 And their " little game."
 
 SAINT CRISPIN. 79 
 
 I forgot to mention, 
 
 Altho' my intention, 
 His public-houfe, " The Horfe-Shoes " by name. 
 Yes, that was the place where he felt fo de- 
 lighted ; 
 When unable to go, his profpe£ls were blighted ; 
 
 At lead for that night he would feel quite be- 
 nighted, 
 
 Tho' his Polly's fweet charms he never once 
 flighted, 
 
 So happy was he on the choice he'd alighted — 
 
 So faithful and true to the vows he had plighted. 
 
 Had another propofed, he'd have felt quite 
 affrighted ; 
 
 Her love would be loft, or at leaft unrequited. 
 
 Now only to think that a paltry (liilling 
 
 Will make a man's throat quite pleafant and 
 
 thrilling. 
 While another will pay fome pounds for a bottle 
 For the very fame purpofe, to tickle his throttle. 
 
 It happen'd one day, 
 While his wife was away,
 
 8o SAINT CRISPIN. 
 
 Bibo threw down his awl 
 And the " laft " that was on his knee ; 
 
 He thought of his Poll, 
 And wonder'd where ilie could be : 
 It was certainly time flie was home to tea 
 For when he'd nothing elfe to fup, 
 He'd condefcend to take a cup. 
 The thirfty feeling which he had, 
 And wanting money, made him fad. 
 He thought his wife would not refufe 
 Some cafli flie'd taken for the pews. 
 Given to her by thofe who'd choofe ; 
 For he depended much upon her, 
 And trufted greatly to her honour. 
 Determined thus within his mind. 
 His wife the next thing was to find. 
 
 But the truth mull be told, 
 
 Tho' at home very bold, 
 
 Father Roger had hinted 
 The lafl time they met. 
 He felt great regret 
 
 To fee that he fquinted ; 
 It being a faft, 'twas ufelefs to parry it ; 
 Bibo's head was fo queer his legs couldn't carry it.
 
 SAINT CRISPIN. 8 I 
 
 Now, my "Wax-end," for a little more thread; 
 
 I find I want more. 
 
 My theme's getting sore, 
 And I feel to approach it with dread. 
 
 As it was church cleaning day. 
 Towards the church he took his way ; 
 
 But what Roger faid 
 
 Came into his head : 
 
 He'd a kind of dread ; 
 
 And didn't much care 
 
 To be feen juft there ; 
 So he crept mofl gently into the porch, 
 When lo and behold ! he faw — a torch ! 
 
 What means a light in the church to-night ? 
 What can it be ? — has he loft his fight ,'' 
 Are his fenfes gone ? — his hair is upright ! 
 
 His heart is funk 
 
 Tho' not with funk : 
 
 Two figures he fees, 
 
 With bended knees. 
 Yes ; there they are, by the fide of a halfock ! 
 One appears to be wearing a caffock ; 
 
 G
 
 82 SAINT CRISPIN. 
 
 And what to him is really aftounding, 
 He fancies he fees his own flioes rebounding — 
 The identical pair — he'd fwear — that they were 
 On which he'd bellowed fo very much care. 
 Say, was it a dream ? or was it a vifion ? 
 He wondered, but couldn't achieve a decifion. 
 P'rhaps at the moment his eyefight was doubled, 
 A habit with which at times he was troubled ; 
 Yet no, that could not be " the great reafon why," 
 He only came out becaufe he felt " dry ;" 
 Befides, the affair looked fo lucid and nat'ral. 
 The circumftance too — being two — was collat'ral. 
 It feemed to be odd, though he was not quite 
 
 certain. 
 In confeffion he thought there was always a curtain, 
 Or fome fort of wooden partition between them, 
 But in this cafe there really was nothing to fcreen 
 
 them. 
 There was his wife in open confeffion, ^ 
 P'rhaps rubbing off a former tranfgreffion ; 
 There was the Friar ufmg every perfuafion 
 To do what he could upon fuch an occafion. 
 By that I imply he was doing his bed 
 To teach the fair fmner the ways of the blefl ;
 
 SAINT CRISPIN. 83 
 
 Her het'rodox mind he had often affailed, 
 But never till now had his precepts availed. 
 
 Poor Bibo, enraged while his heart forely fluttered, 
 Boldly entered with feelings he'd ne'er felt before, 
 And in accents of grief incoherently fluttered, 
 "My Mary's no virgin for you to adore." 
 The priefl in his dignity felt the indignity 
 Quivering over his head if 'twere known 
 
 That this temporal aft 
 
 Would be noted a faft, 
 And carry conviftion with greateft malignity, 
 If told to his father the Pope on the throne ; 
 And having the power of fpeech he loquacioufly 
 Thought he could humble the cobbler at once ; 
 But Bibo was nettled, and felt moft pugnacioufly 
 That fcience which levels a fcholar or dunce. 
 
 What did he think — what did he do ? 
 
 In the heat of his paffion his Mary he flew ; 
 
 He'd have killed the priefl: too, only he flew 
 
 Out of the reach of his arm. 
 The priefl being more at home in the church, 
 Bibo was very foon left in the lurch, 
 
 G 2
 
 84 
 
 SAINT CRISPIN. 
 
 When ]o and behold ! from out of the pulpit 
 A voice iffued forth with that Catholic charm, 
 
 And thus it addrelTed the culprit : — 
 " Bibo ! what will you do with your wife, 
 " Now you have cut the ' thread ' of her life ? 
 " You're fure to be hung if it's mooted about, 
 " And it's always faid that 'murder will out.' 
 " On the Holy Church to bring fuch fcandal 
 
 " Will never do; 
 " And a double crime would give a handle 
 
 " To Pagan and Jew, 
 " To commit a murder on holy ground 
 
 " Is worfe than the crime I've done ; 
 
 " So take my advice and ' let us compound,' 
 
 " In the vaults below a grave fliall be found, 
 
 "■ We'll depofit her there quite fafe and found, 
 
 " And the deed will be known to none. 
 
 " But mind, if you dare 
 
 "To breathe a word 
 
 " Of what has occurred, 
 
 " I mod folemnly fwear 
 
 " I will not forbear 
 " To bring you before the Mayor, 
 
 " And will frankly declare
 
 SAINT CRISPIN. 85 
 
 " This murderous affair 
 " That you did it there, 
 " Which will make all the people flare. 
 " You very well know 
 " In the vault below 
 " I Ihall then have the body to fliow ; 
 
 '' And all you can fay * 
 
 " Will never have fway 
 " Againll a prieft of my name. 
 " A cobbler to ' boot ' 
 " Againfl my ' fuit ' 
 " Would be but a lofmg game ; 
 " And I fairly tell you, beyond any quelPon, 
 " You'd not have the flump of a leg to refl on. 
 ' ' So take my advice and go out of this town ; 
 " If you flop, it's certain that ' you'll be done 
 brown.' 
 
 '' Go forth and feek another ; 
 " Had there been but a fcreen, 
 " That fight you'd ne'er feen 
 " (I admit on my part it was very remifs ; 
 " One ought to be careful in taking a kifs). 
 " 'I mufl have been green ' 
 " When I thought ' all ferene ; '
 
 86 SAINT CRISPIN. 
 
 " But henceforth I'll a^t as a brother. 
 <■<■ We're both in a mefs 
 " All through that carefs, 
 " But it's no ufe to grieve for your wife ; 
 " She's dead — it's now your druggie for life. 
 " I've a great deal at (lake 
 ' " ' For King George's fake ' — 
 
 (No ; that's a miftake 
 I ought not to make. 
 He meant for the fake of the Church ; but then 
 How came fuch an error to flip from my 
 pen ?) — 
 
 " Say but you'll be 
 " A brother like me ; 
 " I'll get you at once in a monaft'ry. 
 " For without any joking, 
 " It's really provoking 
 " To think your neck's in danger of choking. 
 " We muft flow you away 
 " From the light of day ; 
 " You'll have time for ferious reflexion ; 
 " And all I can fay — 
 " You'll have time to pray, 
 '•'■ Which will greatly eafe your dejection.
 
 SAINT CRISPIN. 87 
 
 " I know a ' retreat ' — a fav'rite haunt — 
 " A lovely fpot by trees o'erfhaded, 
 " Where you can lay, and you can chant 
 " ' The light of other days is faded.' 
 
 " It's very well known 
 
 " The Church holds her own, 
 " No matter the crime you've committed ; • 
 
 " Go into her doors, 
 
 " Go down on all fours, 
 " And your fms iliall then be remitted." 
 
 Poor Bibo felt that he was " going to pot ;" 
 No one could fay — "Why, what a nerve he'd got." 
 
 " Difcretion is the better part 
 " Of valour," we are taught by heart. 
 Befides, what could he better do 
 
 Than take a pri eft's advice ? 
 Bibo, in grief, began to rue 
 
 The hour when he was born ; 
 His feelings were not very nice ; 
 In faft, he felt forlorn. 
 That very fame night, 
 Before morning's light,
 
 88 SAINT CRISPIN. 
 
 Bibo decided, and took to flight ; 
 But where he went to 
 Why nobody knew, 
 Excepting Roger and Bibo too, 
 Tho' nothing to do with the road he took, 
 His name efcaped from the hangman's book ; 
 But had he been tried they'd have made a de- 
 fence 
 That it was not a crime " with malice prepenfe." 
 I believe it's a cafe the law juftifies, 
 If done at the moment they're caught by furprife, 
 The evidence (landing before your own eyes. 
 No matter, he got opportune from " a fwing," 
 And faved all the quibbles the lawyers might 
 bring. 
 
 There was great confternation 
 With the whole population 
 When Bibo and Mrs. were miffed from the ftall ; 
 Some thought they had taken '-a moonlight fliift." 
 But when it was found 
 He owed not a pound — 
 In faft, that he was not a bankrupt at all — 
 They were loft to fee through the drift.
 
 SAINT CRISPIN. 89 
 
 Inquiries were made 
 
 Among all the trade, 
 But when ev'ry one faid that nobody knew, 
 It was voted by all that " the thing looked blue." 
 
 The "father" did not remain long at his poft, 
 
 He looked very ill, very much like a ghofl: ; 
 
 He might have gone off to try and repair 
 
 His weak conftitution by change of air, 
 
 But in fulnefs of time "he cocked up his toes 
 
 To the daifies " — a h6t we're led to fuppofe, 
 
 But where ? to this time there's not any one 
 
 knows. 
 With regard to affairs, it's as well to remark 
 That, like a good priefl, he kept all in the dark, 
 
 " Coroners' inquelts " are excellent things, 
 Tho' not introduced in the Romilli focieties. 
 When they die, do they fly upwards with wings, 
 And keep fecret from all any foul improprieties ? 
 On matters like thefe they don't keep any diaries — 
 It faves them a great many prying inquiries. 
 
 Be that as it may, 
 
 At this time of day
 
 9° SAINT CRISPIN. 
 
 Some know "what's o'clock," tho' they can't 
 have a fay. 
 
 But there's nought we can trace of "Roger's 
 remains ;"* 
 
 If we could we fhould not be repaid for our pains. 
 
 Years palTed away : 
 
 An old man gray, 
 
 The inmate of a cell, 
 With pious look and brow ferene, 
 A tale of grief could tell. 
 
 But there were none. 
 
 Not even one, f 
 Could dream what had befell ; 
 Tho' oft the tear-drop might be feen 
 By thofe who watched him well. 
 
 Known by his fanftity and grace. 
 
 The poor all bleffed that old man's face, 
 
 For well they knew 
 
 His friendfliip true : 
 
 * Not Kirkc White's " Remains," nor Rogers's " Pleafures 
 of Memory." 
 
 f Roger defundt.
 
 SAINT CRISPIN. 
 
 No one came there in vain to crave 
 The confolation that he gave. 
 
 But tho' to others he'd impart 
 A fympathy which gives relief, 
 None knew he bore within his heart 
 For years a fad, a bitter grief 
 
 He was not happy. Tho' fo good to all. 
 Could he o'er mem'ry throw oblivion's pall .'' 
 Alas ! oh, no ! the vale of tears for ever 
 Was that fad memory which fadeth never ; 
 Altho' to heaven in hope he turned his eyes. 
 He felt within the grief that never dies. 
 What tho' his foul feemed centred in his fmile, 
 His heavy heart was breaking all the while ; 
 For he had known love's funfliine, but its ray 
 Was long obfcured, and forrow held its fway 
 For ever o'er that broken fpirit's gloom — 
 A fecret for himfelf and for the tomb. 
 
 And this was Bibo— this was he 
 
 Whom now they "Father Crifpin " call ; 
 
 This the good man whofe fan^tity 
 Had made him the beloved of all.
 
 92 SAINT CRISPIN. 
 
 When the time was allotted he gave up his breath, 
 
 And calmly reclined on the bofom of death ; 
 
 So well had poor Crifpin atoned for the pafl, 
 
 Surrounded he died with bleffmgs at laft. 
 
 To all he had known he afted as friend, 
 
 And let us all hope that " peace was his end." 
 
 He fcarcely had time to give up the ghoft. 
 When Cardinals, Bifliops, and all the whole hoft 
 Of clerical men, came down to inquire 
 What all the hulla-ba-loo was in town ; 
 For every "Robinfon, Jones, and Brown," 
 Had been heard to declare 
 That the ladies fo fair 
 Neglefted their hair. 
 And were driven to defpair 
 At the lofs of fo good, fo holy a friar. 
 On fuch a great man they placed all their hope — 
 The Cardinals ftated the fame to the Pope — 
 When, like a young fkipper, 
 " He pull'd up his flipper " 
 ('Twould quite have furprii'ed Cornelius Agrippa) 
 And faid : " My dear boys, ' pray tip us your 
 flipper ; '
 
 SAINT CRISPIN. 93 
 
 " The women fhall have their own way. 
 " Without any conftraint, 
 " I'll make him a Saint. 
 " What's his name, do you fay ?" 
 " Father Crifpin," fay they. 
 "Then, by my faith, as fure as I am 
 " Vicegerent of the King of Siam, 
 " ' Like a fon 
 " Of a gun,' 
 " I'll canon-ize him without more delay. 
 " Mafler Secretary, 
 " Mind this, d'ye fee, 
 " And enter his name in the ' Book of Fate ; ' 
 " Thereto attach our ' great feal of date.' 
 " Be careful, and mind you ' make no miftake ; ' 
 " Or fliould it be fo, 
 " By my bleffed toe 
 " You will probably go 
 " To the cellar below." 
 
 I wifh to obferve, to fave further trouble. 
 
 In the " Lives of the Saints " * they make Crifpin 
 double ; 
 
 * Butler's " Lives of the Saints," vol. x.
 
 94 SAINT CRISPIN. 
 
 They write of a Crifpin and alfo Crifpinian — 
 An infult as great as to call him a " Fenian." 
 
 But mine's the legitimate Crifpin 
 
 (My author I cannot refufe) ; 
 He was known to be always lifping 
 
 When drunk at the "Jolly Horfe-Shoes." 
 
 On the twenty-fifth day of October, 
 A day when few cobblers are fober, 
 
 At that time of year 
 
 When they brew the beft beer, 
 
 The name of "Saint Crifpin," our Saint will 
 appear ; 
 
 An almanack get and look at the date — 
 
 I know I'm correal in what I relate — 
 
 In characters red,* the colour of blood, • 
 
 You'll be able to fee it "as clear as mud." 
 
 And now, my " Wax-end," I've run out thy 
 thread. 
 
 Had our patron the Saint been alive and not dead, 
 
 * Saints days are printed in red ink.
 
 SAINT CRISPIN. 95 
 
 There is not a doubt, without any ado, 
 
 He'd have made more of you — in mending a flioe: 
 
 With your kind alTiftance thefe lines I've run 
 through ; 
 
 With my very beft thanks, I bid you adieu. 
 
 Moral. 
 
 Pray don't, like Bibere, give way to guzzling. 
 
 And always take the greatefl care of mullin : 
 
 That both can prove ungrateful you may find. 
 
 And overturn the balance of your mind ; 
 
 " Stick to your laft," or any other labour. 
 
 And don't be always chatting with your neighbour. 
 
 Place not implicit faith in one another, 
 
 Nor fancy ev'ry man to be a brother ; 
 
 Talk with a parrot rather than a parafite, 
 
 For one can harm you though they both can bite ; 
 
 Be courteous unto all, yet not confide 
 
 In any one until their worth you've tried ; 
 
 But having found a true and honeft friend, 
 
 Welcome that friendfliip as a great God-fend ; 
 
 Make home your comfort, and your wife's fweet 
 charms 
 
 The fpell which ev'ry guilty thought difarms ;
 
 g6 SAINT CRISPIN. 
 
 Conciliate each other with a mutual feeling — 
 No fecret thoughts within your heart concealing ; 
 " For as you make your bed, (o you muft lie," 
 Until the time arrives when you muft die. 
 
 Addenda. 
 
 Young wives, don't think too much about con- 
 feffing ; 
 
 And hufbands, ope your eyes to priefhs digreffing ; 
 
 Be careful, priells, how you beftow your bleffing. 
 
 And don't be fliocking us with vile tranfgrefFmg,
 
 WAIFS. 
 
 A LEGEND OF THE SEA. 
 
 H
 
 WAIFS 
 
 A LEGEND OF THE SEA. 
 
 j'ER the enamel!' d furface of the deep, 
 
 Refulgent — like a bride upon her bed, 
 
 So calm, fo lovely in her midnight 
 fleep — • 
 Not e'en a cyprefs drooping o'er the dead 
 Could throw a fliade upon their hallow'd reft 
 Like clouds reflefted on her azure breaft. 
 
 Before that pifture of ethereal light 
 Two beings sat, rapt in their hearts' delight ; 
 Their hands were lock'd together, and their looks, 
 More eloquent than nature's faireft books. 
 Were bent upon each other, while their eyes 
 Told joys which mortals feldom realize. 
 
 H 2
 
 I OO WAIFS. 
 
 Yet met they not clandeftinely, for they 
 Had knelt in homage at the holy flirine, 
 Which fanftified their love by pow'r divine ; 
 And in their feelings bleffed the happy day 
 That gave a folace to each other's heart — 
 In joy to live, in agony to part. 
 
 Their thoughts were far beyond that liquid light 
 Which fpread before them from their homely 
 ftrand ; 
 
 For time had fped, and this the only night 
 Before they left their dear, their native land. 
 Ah 1 who but they who've found the time arrive, 
 Can feel how hard, how fad it is to ftrive 
 Againfl the yearning paiTion for a home, 
 When forced to leave, o'er other lands to roam [ 
 How all the little trifles of our youth 
 Come buriling forth, arrayed with ardent truth ; 
 How kindred all which bind our hearts to earth 
 Seem magnified into a fecond birth, 
 And reminifcences of bygone years 
 Add but a gloom unto our prefent fears ; 
 Yet memory can bear to lands away 
 The retrofpe6l of many a happy day.
 
 WAIFS. lOI 
 
 Buoyant the bed where refts the weary gull, 
 Lull'd by the undulation of the fea ; 
 And in tranquillity there hes a hull 
 Riding at anchor, but 'twill soon be free ; 
 For at the firfl approach of coming day 
 Her fails will be unfurl'd to leave the bay. 
 
 All partings o'er — each fond, each vain regret : 
 Yet fcenes in life we never can forget — 
 The velTel fpeeds upon her deftined courfe, 
 Sev'ring true hearts with feelings like remorfe. 
 Dim fades the land : ere yet the fetting fun 
 Throws one faint gleam, the happy vifion's gone. 
 
 Borne on the ocean by propitious gales, 
 Which filled the area of her fwelling fails. 
 The wat'ry element the veffel cleft, 
 As if rejoicing in her native home ; 
 And as flie bounded o'er the billows, left 
 Far in her wake a line of eddy'ng foam. 
 
 While circling in the air the fea-guU flies. 
 Watching the fhip with fcrutinizing eyes,
 
 I02 WAIFS. 
 
 And dipping with her light wing on the main 
 To feed, then rifmg, follows on again. 
 
 To gaze, to linger, o'er the velTel's fide, 
 To watch the corufcations of the deep — 
 Thofe million little fcintillating lights — 
 To hear the feething, gurgling noife befide 
 Our pillow, ere we fall at lafl to fleep, 
 Are paflimes of the wand'rer's dreary nights. 
 
 The iirfl few weeks were palTed in mufmg o'er 
 
 The trials of the pad, and coming change ; 
 
 They'd find no greetings on a foreign fliore, 
 
 But fcenes which might their fondeft hopes 
 eflrange. 
 
 He'd now a double talk — to curb his grief, 
 
 And try to give his Gadra's mind relief. 
 
 " Sweet Gadra, emblem of my fondeft thought, 
 
 " Fulfilling all which mentally I fought; 
 
 " Before I knew thee did my fancy drefs 
 
 " A form like thine to crown my happinefs. 
 
 " Should Fortune deign to blefs my firm endeavour, 
 
 " We need not leave our native land for ever.
 
 WAIFS. lO' 
 
 " But, when a few fliort years have fled, return 
 
 " To that dear home for which our willies 
 yearn. 
 
 " Yet crave I not for wealth more than to give 
 
 " Thee comforts : for in thy delight I live ; 
 
 " And as the light reflefted multiplies, 
 
 "So do I twice thy pleafures realize. 
 
 ^3 
 
 " Dear Percy, hadfl thou not been what thou art, 
 " From my fond kindred I would ne'er depart ; 
 " But 'reft of thee that home we've left behind 
 " Would then appear a defert to my mind, 
 " And I can welcome all, both joy or care, 
 " While I've the happinefs with thee to fliare. 
 " Reliant in thy love, my blifs is great ; 
 " So that I lofe thee not, I fear no fate." 
 
 Such their communing ; but before the morn 
 
 They little reck'd that all would be forlorn. 
 
 Scarce had they fought retirement in their bed 
 
 When flrange commotions founded overhead : 
 
 They heard a fliriek, which rent the midnight 
 air, 
 
 Mingled with fcreams of wild, of mad defpair.
 
 I04 WAIFS. 
 
 He ran on deck to learn the dread event, 
 
 And found the lliip a mafs of living fire ; 
 
 AH power feemed paralyzed, and each intent 
 
 Ufelefs to flay its ravages fo dire. 
 
 The mafts had caught, and every hope now gone — 
 
 His Gadra left in agony alone ; 
 
 The flames fprang up — a barrier to his courfe, 
 
 Defying him to penetrate their force, 
 
 And by their great intenfity of heat 
 
 Leaving the fea — his death or lafl retreat ! 
 
 Oh ! dreadful fate, with fire to contend ; 
 
 But doubly fo — the waves your only friend I 
 
 Upon a fpar, in fad and mournful plight, 
 
 He floated with the current, far from fight 
 
 Of her his foul adored, whofe mifery 
 
 Was p'rhaps more abjed than his own could be. 
 
 If flie exifted dill, what chance, what power 
 
 Could fave her life much longer than an hour ? 
 
 And he could only watch the flames awhile 
 
 Confuming her upon a funeral pile ; 
 
 Or when thofe flames had ceafed 'twould only 
 tell 
 
 The veflel finking, and their lafi: farewell.
 
 WAIFS. 105 
 
 Thus — thus was nature's fondefh, deared tie 
 
 Severed by one fell ftroke of deftiny. 
 
 Unconfcious of each other's awful fate, 
 
 In bitternefs too dreadful to relate 
 
 He mourns for her who ev'ry fancy fed : 
 
 She weeps for him as numbered with the dead. 
 
 Three days he drifted, when a pirate's band 
 Saved him from death and carried him to land ; 
 Yet death were fcarce more cruel on the fea 
 Than doom'd to live for years in flavery. 
 
 Return we now to her who weeping flood 
 
 Upon the burning fliip, lamenting him 
 
 As either burnt or fwallow'd by the flood ; 
 
 And as flie gazed until her eyes grew dim, 
 
 Befide the velfel on a crefted wave 
 
 She faw an infant ftruggling with its grave. 
 
 Could flie with apathy or coldnefs ftand. 
 
 Nor try to fnatch that fupplicating hand ? 
 
 Oh, no ! maternal inftinft inly grew, 
 
 For ihe would foon become a mother too ; 
 
 And, with the impulfe, from the fhip flie threw
 
 I06 WAIFS. 
 
 Herfelf : before the wave had time to clofe — 
 She ckitch'd the infant, and they both arofe ; 
 While Providence, as if to blefs the deed, 
 Granted them fuccour in their time of need : 
 A flalwart failor grafped them yet afloat, 
 And drew them gently in the jufl lower' d boat. 
 
 A home-bound fliip in the ofEng obferved 
 The glaring light, which illumined the dark ; 
 The captain and crew, with energy nerved. 
 Bore down to give help to the burning bark ; 
 But ere they arrived at the fcene of woe 
 The ill-fated bark sank fathoms below. 
 
 They hoiiled fignal-lights, that thofe who might 
 Have 'fcaped in boats, or clung to rafts and fpars, 
 Should know, could they but linger on till light, 
 A welcome 'waited them by brother tars ; 
 And in the morning found three boats containing 
 All that was feen of that fine bark remaining. 
 
 They sailed about for hours, hoping ftill 
 To catch a glimpfe of fome yet living being ; 
 But nought appeared their wiflies to fulfil, 
 Tho' each one tried his greatefl pow'r of feeing.
 
 WAIFS. 107 
 
 Where's Percy ? where the parents of the child ? 
 Gone, sunk for ever, in the waters wild ! 
 
 And Gadra, half diflrafted, nurfed the boy — 
 Left, like herfelf, another "waif and dray" — 
 And in her anguiili felt a foft alloy 
 Whene'er Ihe thought upon that fatal day ; 
 Tho' once that child belonged unto another, 
 Now cared flie for it as the fondefl mother. 
 
 The fhip returned unto a port not far 
 Removed from that £he once had left behind ; 
 But oh ! what future life could e'er debar 
 The memory of him to her pure mind ? 
 And fhortly, to her great delight, there came 
 An infant girl to blefs her Percy's name. 
 
 Now leave we her to feek on diftant fliores 
 Another "waif" upon life's tempefl toll; 
 That Percy, whom his Gadra' s heart deplores — 
 While he believes his Gadra alfo lofl — 
 Living in flav'ry, fcarce in human fliape. 
 For eight long years before he could efcape.
 
 Io8 WAIFS. 
 
 Once, while the pirate's crew were out at fea, 
 A veffel touched upon the barren ftrand ; 
 They called for water, but what ardent glee 
 Did Percy feel to meet them on the fand; 
 And with the eloquence which grief beftows 
 He told them all his troubles and his woes. 
 
 Hard muft the heart be that could e'er refufe 
 To liften to fuch grief, or yet withfland 
 The refcue of a life which none would choofe ; 
 They took him in the boat and by the hand, 
 The suif'rer to a colony they bore. 
 To breathe the air of liberty once more. 
 
 He thought he'd try to work his paffage home. 
 Home ! dreadful thought ! for now his fate feem'd 
 
 cafll 
 Far better anywhere on earth to roam 
 Than go where fcenes would but recall the part, 
 The happy omens under which they fharted. 
 And mourn o'er joys that now were all departed. 
 
 He flayed, he toiled ; and fortune feemed to fmile 
 On all his doings, yet could not beguile
 
 WAIFS. 109 
 
 That innate pafTion which would ever feem 
 Like the exiftence of a lovely dream. 
 
 One day by chance he grafped a friendly hand, - 
 Warm with aife£lion, from his native land — 
 A wand'rer like himfelf, who came to try 
 What wealth a foreign country could fupply, 
 
 "^ Dear Percy ! whence this abfence from thy 
 
 friends, 
 " Whofe fondefl wiflies ever were for thee ? 
 " The only pray'r which on the good attends 
 " Was breathed by all for thy felicity ; 
 " Why haft thou left for years in filent gloom 
 " Thy Gadra, weeping o'er thy fancied tomb ? " 
 
 " Is it to mock my poor, my broken heart 
 
 " Thou breathed forth a name, whofe magic found 
 
 " Thrills through my bofom with a madd'ning 
 
 fmart ? 
 " In pity fay ! — was not that loved one drown'd .? 
 
 " Oh ! raife not hopes which years have fcarce 
 
 allayed, 
 " Left my poor heart (liould be again betrayed."
 
 IIO WAIFS. 
 
 '^ She lives, and had two children when I left — 
 " Her only comfort, now of thee bereft." 
 
 " Two children, Carlos ? — is die wed again ? 
 " Oh ! rack me not with fuch unthought-of pain." 
 
 " I would not, Percy, add one word to make 
 " Or caufe a doubt thy fancy could create ; 
 " Pity alone, my friend, for thy dear fake, 
 " Would wifh to fee thy griefs alleviate ; 
 " But what I faid are fafts — though flern, yet 
 true ; 
 
 " If rumour's true, fo true Pm telling you. 
 
 " I, like yourfelf, have been away for years, 
 
 " TofTed in a whirlwind both of hopes and fears ; 
 
 " Nor have I feen thy Gadra, but have heard 
 
 " She had a little babe when (he arrived ; 
 
 " Since then file's had another, and contrived 
 
 " By induftry, and what her friends conferr'd, 
 
 " To live. Nor is fhe wed again ; your name 
 
 " She ftill retains ; nor is one word of blame 
 
 " Cafl on her; yet 'tis ftrange. She wore for 
 years 
 
 " Her widow's weeds, and in herfelf appears
 
 WAIFS. I I I 
 
 " A model of her fex ; yet who can be 
 " The father of her youthful progeny? " 
 
 " Carlos ! thy converfe warps my weary brain, 
 " And a folution of the faft feems vain ; 
 " To have two children of a diff'rent age 
 " PalTes my power of fenfe. I did prefage 
 " She would have one, fo Gadra did proclaim; 
 " E'en had flie twins their age would be the 
 
 same ; 
 " Or if without our knowledge flie is wed 
 " To fome one elfe, thinking that I am dead, 
 
 " The time appears too brief from what you've 
 
 faid ; 
 '•And through the lab'rinth of my tortured 
 
 thoughts 
 " I find no anfwer to their vain reforts. 
 
 " Oh, Gadra! beauteous ftar ! thou garner'd flirine 
 
 '' Of my affeftions, I could not intwine 
 
 ' ' One guilty thought in all my dreams of thee, 
 
 " Or ever charge thee with duplicity ; 
 
 ' ' If thou art wed, in ignorance that I live, 
 
 '• Tho' death to me — ftill — ftill I could forgive.
 
 I I 2 WAIFS. 
 
 " Soft as the air that 'wakes th' ^olian firings — 
 " Vibrating chords — (o thy remembrance brings 
 " Senfations to my heart, which feem to fpeak 
 '' Warm from thy balmy breath upon my cheek. 
 " For years when I imagined thou wert gone, 
 " I thought of thee amongfl thofe ftars that fhone 
 " Upon my path, to cheer my midnight toil — 
 " Ideal blifs commingled with thy youth 
 " As thou hadft been on earth. Oh ! happy 
 dream ! 
 
 " Radiant in all its purity and truth. 
 
 " Tho' thou'rt alive, I could not now defpoil 
 
 " Thofe treafured thoughts within my heart 
 
 fupreme ; 
 " And thy chafte love, dear Gadra, ne'er was call 
 " But in a mould like mine, with life to lafl." 
 
 Oh ! that the pow'r of wings could give him 
 
 flight, 
 As on the breeze ethereally caught, 
 Swift as the rays that dart with morning light, 
 Or even pafs to her as fleet as thought : 
 Such would his tranfit be to gain accefs 
 To her — his Gadra — in her lonelinefs.
 
 WAIFS. 113 
 
 Now bounds a bark acrofs the ocean foam, 
 
 Beneath the beauty of a fummer Iky, 
 
 And bears our Percy to his long-loft home. 
 
 By all fave one forgotten, or well nigh. 
 
 Yet ftill he lives, and comes in anxious dread 
 
 To feek for her who mourns him with the dead. 
 
 And as the gallant fliip more quickly flies. 
 More quickly beats the wand'rer's careworn heart; 
 While as his native ftiores to vifion rife 
 They're yet obfcured, for nature's tears will ftart, 
 As mem'ry whifpers with each liquid gem, 
 Had Gadra and myfelf ne'er quitted them. 
 
 The vacillating metal in the glafs 
 Anon doth rife and then again will fall ; 
 So in his breaft would joy as funbeams pafs, 
 And then defpair o'erfliade it with its pall. 
 Thus Percy felt, and tho' in heart a hero. 
 The ftrong man's courage fell to forrow's zero. 
 
 Like '-'■ ignis fatuus " o'er a chafm fell, 
 Luring the houfelefs traveller in the night. 
 Who looks with gladnefs on the myftic fpell 
 Shining in beauty with unearthly light, 
 
 I
 
 114 WAIFS. 
 
 Until the flick'ring phantom falfely flies, 
 And depths below th' unwary viftim lies. 
 
 Or like the light that bums near hidden woes, 
 Lit by the ruthlefs wrecker's curfed hand, 
 Which bids the florm-toft failor feek repofe ; 
 And whilft he dreams of wife and fatherland 
 The veffel bilges! and death's direft throes 
 In gurgling waters his vain ftruggles clofe. 
 
 Now Percy flood upon the land once more. 
 
 And viewed that cottage erlt of blifs the throne ; 
 
 No recognition greets him as of yore, 
 
 No loved embrace or fond affeftion's tone. 
 
 Alas! the fepulchre were far more fweet 
 
 To him, for there his heart had ceafed to beat. 
 
 The twilight wanes, and melts to ftarry night. 
 With pale wan Luna's beams upon the fpot ; 
 And there, by her own foft and filv'ry light. 
 Was Percy wending to his Gadra's cot. 
 The monkifli robe and cowl — auflere attire! — 
 Proclaim the wearer as a holy friar.
 
 WAIFS. 115 
 
 He gently knock'd at her own latticed door, 
 And humbly all^'d to fee that lady fair ; 
 His prayer was granted, and one minute more 
 He faw his wife, and breathed the felf-fame air. 
 Oh, God ! the ftrength it took him to control 
 That moment's trial of his inmoft foul ! 
 
 Then Gadra fpoke — " Oh! holy father, fay 
 " What is thy mifTion here — oh, pray impart. 
 " Can I do aught to cheer thy pilgrim way ? 
 " Or art thou fent to eafe my broken heart ? 
 " I'll help thee, father — for myfelf my tears 
 " And child are folace for my future years." 
 
 In accents low and falt'ring he replied — 
 " I afk for nothing, but would foothe thy woe. 
 ' ' Why mournefl thou for one who, long fmce died, 
 " Sleeps in the caverns of the deep below .? 
 " But, though he lies beneath the billows wild, 
 " Thou haft a treafure in his ne'er feen child." 
 
 " She is my life- tie, and God in his mercy 
 " Sent me a comfort in my angel's fiice, 
 " And made her image of my sainted Percy, 
 " Whofe ev'ry lineament in her I trace. 
 
 I 2
 
 I 1 6 WAIFS. 
 
 " And this not all ; for in that night of fear 
 " A drowning mother fank — her fon is here ! 
 
 " I was no mother then, but felt a joy 
 
 " In fhelt'ring her poor orphan in my bread, 
 
 " And as kind heaven trufted me that boy, 
 
 " I've done a mother's duty, and feel blefl. 
 
 " Scarce fummers three had o'er this infant flown, 
 
 " When I adopted him as if my own." 
 
 Emotion fliook th' apparent friar's frame ; 
 In utt'rance choked, he afk'd that he might fee 
 Thofe children fair; and ftraightway forth they 
 came. 
 
 Young Hubert firfl, and then fweet Amelie ; 
 And in that laughing rofy little elf 
 Percy beheld the reflex of himfelf. 
 
 Sweet calm now reign'd in that once troubled 
 
 bread ; 
 The Romlfh gabardine he tore away. 
 And there her loved brave Percy ftood confeft. 
 As {lie beheld him on that fatal day. 
 Difguife was ufelefs ; conftancy thus tried 
 Was pure as fpotlefs fnow, and thus he cried : —
 
 WAIFS. 117 
 
 " Enough ! my feelings I cannot fubdue ; 
 " My long-loll Gadra, welcome to my heart ! 
 " And thou, my darling girl, and Hubert too, 
 *' We meet this night, ah ! never more to part !" 
 While Gadra, dove-like, flew to his embrace. 
 And kiflf'd the tears upon his manly face.
 
 THE BODY-SNATCHERS. 
 
 ^T^j^PON a cold November night 
 
 jT (^^\ Two body-fnatchers went to 
 l^tSj^U work ; 
 
 They never felt a qualm or fright 
 To raife a body or to " burke." 
 
 The road led round an old churchyard, 
 A fteep approach upon a hill, 
 
 A fix-feet wall the only guard 
 Againfl the depredators' flvill. 
 
 A drunken man who had to pafs 
 
 Clofe by the church to reach his home, 
 
 Had never dreamt of fear, alas ! 
 Or elfe he never would have come.
 
 I20 THE BODY-SNATCHERS. 
 
 He felt he had a certain reafon 
 To lean againft the wall, becaufe 
 
 His head appeared like plotting treafon ; 
 In faft he fcarce knew where he was. 
 
 He heard a footflep coming up 
 
 Towards the place where he had fettled, 
 But having had a drop to fup 
 
 He didn't feel his courage nettled. 
 
 He thought whoever it might be 
 
 Would onward walk, not feeing him ; 
 
 For in the dark he couldn't fee 
 The cuftomer who looked fo grim. 
 
 As fate would have it, 'twas the fpot 
 
 Selefted for their operation ; 
 The chofen body they had got 
 
 Out of the grave by exhumation. 
 
 The man outfide looked all around, 
 And whiflled to his mate within. 
 
 And faid — "Bill, all feems fafe and found." 
 The other with a ghaftly grin
 
 THE BODY-SNATCHERS. 121 
 
 Cried — "He's a fat 'un ; to my thinking 
 " 'Ten quid' he'll fetch, or I'm a duffer." 
 
 Says Joe — " All right ! now in a winking 
 '' Pitch in the road the (tiff old buffer." 
 
 And quickly down it came a thwack, 
 Much to the countryman's furprife, 
 
 Who ftarted up, and in a crack 
 
 Ran off; while Joe cried, "Blefs my eyes !" 
 
 And bellowed — " Here's a pretty bother, 
 
 " And fure the Devil is to pay ; 
 '' You'd better pitch us down another; 
 
 " That 'tother fellow's cut away."
 
 THE LOST TESTIMONIAL. 
 
 A LEGEND OF DUNDEE. 
 
 ; CROSS the Tay, 
 One wintry day, 
 A ferry-boat was going ; 
 Slow was its progrefs at that time— 
 They did it then by rowing.* 
 The frofted trees 
 Told the degrees 
 Of cold in cryftal fparks of rime ; 
 And, whiflling flirill 
 O'er the fnow-capp'd hill,f 
 A iliarp north wind was blowing. 
 
 The freightage of the ferry-boat 
 Confided of an old frieze coat. 
 
 * A steamboat plies acrofs now — distance 2^ miles, 
 f "The Law," 525 feet above the level of the Tay.
 
 124 THE LOST TESTIMONIAL. 
 
 In which the rower was envelop'd. 
 The only palTenger befide 
 Was one — a form whofe youthful pride 
 
 The charms of womanhood develop'd ; 
 And in her lap 
 She held a fcrap 
 Of paper which was dear to her : 
 It was her written " charafter," 
 Implying that the fame would bear 
 The teft of anything that's fair. 
 
 In faft, it was her " teftimonial" — 
 The ufual fort of ceremonial 
 When fervants feek a fituation, 
 The lafh not left from degradation. 
 
 The Iharp and nipping cold benumb'd 
 Her little fingers as fhe thumb'd 
 The paper. Judge her great difmay : 
 
 The wind, fo rough, 
 
 With fudden puff, 
 Caught and convey'd it far away. 
 
 " Oh, goodnefs gracious ! let me crave 
 " That you'll be kind enough to fave
 
 THE LOST TESTIMONIAL. 1 25 
 
 " That precious paper miftrefs gave. 
 " See there ! — it's fkipping o'er the wave. 
 " Oh, dear ! oh, dear ! 'tis gone again, 
 " And all your efforts vi^ill be vain." 
 
 The old man faw the maid's furprife, 
 And thus began to moralize : — 
 
 " No matter, lafs ; 
 
 " Time's hour-glafs 
 " Was never known to ftand ; 
 
 " But, like the river, 
 
 " 'Twill flow for ever, 
 *' While there's a grain of fand I 
 
 " And tho' you've lofl 
 
 "What was almofl 
 " The great eft thing for you to boaft, 
 
 " Yet, ere you leave, 
 
 " You Ihall retrieve 
 " It — by another on the coaft." 
 
 And this he did with beft intent ; 
 Annex' d you'll find the document : —
 
 126 THE LOST TESTIMONIAL. 
 
 " This is to certify, that I, 
 
 " The ferryman upon the Tay, 
 
 " With this girl's feelings to comply, 
 
 " Mod folemnly declare that (he 
 
 " Did lofe her ' charafter ' with me, 
 
 " While -we were crolTing Broughty Bay."
 
 ST. THAIS 
 
 THE FAIR PENITENT. 
 
 A LEGEND OF THEBES.
 
 SAINT THAIS THE PENITENT. 
 
 The following abridgement from "Butler's 
 Lives of the Saints," vol. lo, 
 
 Will give the pith or gift, 
 
 From which I've ground my grift. 
 
 About the middle of the fourth age there lived in 
 Egypt a famous courtefan, named Thais j but the fenti- 
 ments of grace were ftifled in her by an unbridled love 
 of pleafure and defire of gain. Beauty, wit, and flat- 
 tering loofe company brought her into the gulf, and fhe 
 was engaged in the moll criminal and infamous habits. 
 This unhappy, thoughtlefs fmner was pofting to eternal 
 deftruflion, when Paphnutius, an holy anchorite, wept 
 for the lofs of her foul, the fcandal of her vicious courfes 
 being public in the whole country. At length he formed 
 a projeft, or a pieus ftratagem, in order to have accefs 
 to her, that he might refcue her out of her diforders. 
 He put off his penitential weeds, and drefled himfelf in 
 
 K
 
 130 SAINT THAIS 
 
 fuch a manner as to difguife his profeflion. Going to her 
 houfe, he called for her at the door, and was introduced 
 to her chamber. He told her he defired to converfe 
 with her in private, but wifhed for fome more private 
 apartment. "What is it you fear?" faid Thais; "if 
 men, no one can fee us here ; but if you mean God, no 
 one can hide us from His all-piercing eye." 
 
 " What ! " replied Paphnutius, " do you know there 
 is a God?" 
 
 " Yes," faid ftie, " and that heaven will be the portion 
 of the good, and everlafling torments in hell for the 
 wicked." 
 
 " Is it poffible you fhould know thefe great truths 
 and yet dare to fm in the eyes of Him who knows and 
 will judge all things ?" 
 
 Thais perceived by this flinging reproach that he was 
 a fervant of God, who came to draw her from her un- 
 happy ftate of perdition. She burft into a flood of tears, 
 filled with confufion at the fight of her crimes, and faid, 
 " Father, enjoin me what courfe of penance you think 
 proper. I defire only three hours to fettle my affairs, 
 and I am ready to comply with all you fhall counfel me 
 to do." 
 
 Paphnutius appointed a place to which fhe fhould 
 repair, and went back to his cell. 
 
 Thais got together all her jewels, magnificent furni- 
 ture, rich clothes, and the refl of her ill-gotten wealth, 
 and, making a great pile in the flreet, burnt it all pub- 
 licly, inviting all who had made her thofe prefents, and 
 been the accomplice of her fms, to join her in her 
 facrifice and penance.
 
 THE PENITENT. I31 
 
 To have kept any would have been not to cut off all 
 dangerous occafions, which might again revive her 
 pailions, and call back former temptations. This being 
 done, Paphnutius conduced her to a nunnery of 
 women ; there the holy man fhut her up in a cell, 
 putting on the door a feal of lead, as if that place had 
 been made her grave, never more to be opened. • 
 
 He ordered the fillers, as long as fhe lived, to bring 
 her every day only a little bread and water, and enjoined 
 her never to ceafe praying. 
 
 After the fpace of three years, Paphnutius went to 
 St. Antony to afk his advice if her penitential courfe did 
 not feem fufficient. 
 
 St. Antony faid, "St. Paul the Simple fhould be 
 confulted, for God delights to reveal his will to the 
 humble." 
 
 St. Paul anfwered " that God had prepared a place in 
 heaven for the penitent." 
 
 Paphnutius, therefore, went to her cell to releafe her. 
 
 She died fifteen days after, about the year 348. 
 
 She is honoured in the Greek menoiogies on the 
 eighth Oftober. 
 
 See her life, written by an ancient Greek author, in 
 Rofweide, D'Andilly, Bulteau, and Villefore. 
 
 K 2
 
 SAINT THAIS THE PENITENT. 
 
 A LEGEND OF THEBES. 
 
 SING of her whofe beauty and whofe 
 wit 
 
 i^ Threw all the Theban ladies in a fit 
 
 Of fcandal, by the knowledge of her afts — 
 
 Tho' not heroic, yet hifloric fafts ; 
 
 No marilialled armies fighting on the plain \ 
 
 For life to flruggle, or their rights maintain, ' 
 
 Led half fuch willing captives in their train. ' 
 
 But I muft change my metre, now too long, 
 And not at all adapted to my fong. 
 
 Fair Thais was a virgin, 
 
 And ev'rybody thought her fo,
 
 134 SAINT THAIS 
 
 Until flie went diverging 
 
 With Count Boloo, who brought her to 
 
 A ftate of impropriety ; 
 
 In faft he'd not deny it, he 
 
 Was fond of notoriety, 
 
 Regardlefs as to price ; 
 But when he felt fatiety 
 He always tried variety, 
 
 And flepp'd it in a trice. 
 
 Altho' my verfe is terfe, 
 
 Yet I could not rehearfe, 
 
 Were I required to do it, 
 
 How thefe young folks went through it ; 
 
 Nor yet recount — without a dread 
 
 The vafl: amount — fpent by the Count, 
 
 In (hape of interefl and difcount, 
 
 In th' eleven lines you've read. 
 
 I'm bound by no laws ; 
 I'll tell you the caufe 
 (Like a great many more, 
 I could count by the fcore) :
 
 THE PENITENT. 135 
 
 I'm regardlefs of dactyl and fpondee ; 
 
 My pentam's 
 
 And hexam's 
 
 Are like lambs 
 
 Without dams, 
 Or a maiden without any fond he. 
 
 I find fome lines too fliort, and fome too long, 
 
 Have crept into the pathway of my fong. 
 
 But profody does cramp one, and one's genius 
 lingers ; 
 
 And, certes^ he's no poet who would count his 
 fingers. 
 
 If you iliould have a Shakefpeare on your table. 
 
 You'll find that "looking at the feet's a fable." * 
 
 A poetical wit 
 
 Ifn't worth half a tit 
 Which pops in and out of a hedge, 
 
 Unlefs he'd down with it, 
 
 If any pith in it. 
 And fave us the trouble to dredge ; 
 
 * Othello, Act. v., Scene 2 .
 
 136 SAINT THAIS 
 
 For what is tranfcendent 
 
 Muft needs be refplendent, 
 Tho' the brighteft of things, we can fay, 
 Don't appear quite fo bright at mid-day ; 
 
 From what I have feen 
 
 My experience has been 
 
 There's a greater delight 
 
 In a lefs hallow'd light — 
 The refinement of wit at midnight. 
 
 And yet fuch tricks as thefe won't do, 
 
 Altho' good folks at times get fou' ; 
 
 And ftrange, the longer they remain 
 
 The lefs remembrance they retain 
 
 0£ all the rights they'd then maintain, 
 
 Unlefs like Burns, who'd never go. 
 
 But ftill would fing 'iThe cock may crow.'' 
 
 Talking of crowing, it 
 Puts me in mind 
 
 While I've been going it 
 I've left Thais behind. 
 
 While Thais's charafter fuffer'd intenfely. 
 
 The young Count's went up, in a ratio immenfely.
 
 THE PENITENT. I 37 
 
 Of luxuries fine — it's a iliame they'd not hand her 
 " The fauce for the goofe which is good for the 
 
 gander." 
 The chronicles (late not, fo I am unable 
 To tell you the fauces they ufed upon table, 
 They had not in thofe days a Harvey, or Nichol, 
 Or the famous compofer * of " Perry, green 
 
 pickle," 
 Nor aught on the flielves of CroiTe, Blackwell, 
 
 and Co., 
 That epicure fliop in the fquare of Soho, 
 Or " Worceflerfliire Sauce," which I think all 
 
 mud fay. 
 Is the fpiciefl condiment known at this day. 
 
 But where am 1 running 
 
 With all of this funning, 
 Diabolical punning ^ I cannot maintain — 
 
 I have loft all my brain 
 
 In the firfl of my (train ; 
 But the gauntlet is down, and I'm at it again. 
 
 * Smollett.
 
 i^8 SAINT THAIS 
 
 The gay Count Boloo, 
 
 Having nothing to do, 
 Spent his time in all forts of frivolity; 
 
 He was always fought out 
 
 For a party or rout, 
 As affording the greatefl of jollity. 
 
 At pic-nics, whene'er they went a la Watteau, 
 The Count would be found, as the mofl favour'd 
 
 beau, 
 Reclining fo fweetly on flow'rets and glebes, 
 'Twas quite pifturefque in the purlieus of Thebes; 
 But yet not fo fafe, by the banks of a river. 
 While talking " foft nothings " you'd ftart with a 
 
 fliiver ; 
 Inflead of the fowl you were eating fo gay, 
 As a vile crocodile had marked you for his prey. 
 Or perchance while admiring the flaflies of fire, 
 Infpired by bright eyes caufing fofter defire ; 
 While coolly reflefting how paffion is fed, 
 A boa-conflri6i:or is over your head 
 With (till brighter eyes, dooming you for the 
 
 dead.
 
 THE PENITENT. 1 39 
 
 From fceiies of fuch horror when homeward you've 
 
 fled 
 You find a big fcorpion popp'd into your bed ; 
 Or a centipede, p'rhaps, or a cobra capello — 
 Not over inviting to call one's bedfellow ; 
 But cuflom's a habit which ev'ry one feels 
 The fame, as 'tis faid by " the Ikinning of eels." 
 While I'm painting fuch terrible blows to our 
 
 feelings, 
 
 Old Nick's got me now, for the want of frefli 
 dealings ; 
 
 If I'm book'd for below 
 When I "cock up my toe," 
 Yet the De'il take Old Nick, I muft ftill have a go 
 While I've life ; I'm not frightened of bogies ; 
 No, nor any fantaftical fogies ; 
 If, like Fauft, I've made over myfelf to the Devil, 
 The compact* was ftill that on earth he'd be civil. 
 
 I cannot difcover 
 
 This girl's fecond lover. 
 
 * Mephistoplicles : " I'll be your fervant on caith, if you 
 will be mine hereafter."
 
 140 SAINT THAIS 
 
 Tho' no doubt a rover, 
 And well up in clover. 
 
 " Clover and pelf" 
 
 The fame thing itfelf 
 
 As bread is a loaf, 
 
 Tho' many an oaf 
 Would not eafily flumble 
 On a rhyme that's fo humble. 
 
 Her mind being open to new forts of revelry, 
 
 She gave herfelf up to the joys of this earth, 
 
 And entered fo fall into all kinds of devilry, 
 
 Like a fecond-bom goddefs* of laughter and 
 mirth. 
 
 Her Soirees were great ; 
 
 Young head and bald pate 
 
 Came there to relate 
 
 Their love and their fate. 
 
 They could not liquidate 
 
 Their anceflral eftate. 
 When love holds the key which opens the locket, 
 How foon we arrive at the depth of the pocket ! 
 
 * Voluptas.
 
 THE PENITENT. I4I 
 
 Yoli may read in a work by the great poet Dante 
 Of vilions and fcenes in the regions below ; 
 Or look at Anacreon about a Bacchante ; 
 And then in your readings pray turn to Sappho, 
 The foft, tender hearted, 
 When Phaon departed; 
 Then dive in Propertius, with Ovid, Catullus, 
 And gentle Sulpicia, with naughty Tibullus. 
 Such a great weight of brain 
 Harping on the fame flrain, 
 Proves "there's nothing new under the 
 fun ;" 
 
 A hundred of years 
 Like mift difappears, 
 Yet the fame fort of bufmefs is done. 
 But, as they have defcribed much more than I'm 
 
 able 
 (Tho' much, I believe, is not true, but a fable), 
 Still, when you have gotten fuch fcenes in your 
 
 head 
 Of terreftrial aifairs, you'll be much better led 
 To imagine what now I would wiih that you knew 
 Took place with fair Thais and the gay Count 
 Boloo.
 
 142 SAINT THAIS 
 
 Her houfe was a temple of choice curiofities, 
 Contents chiefly made up of fond reciprocities, 
 Such gems and fuch jewels flie daily received 
 By any unconfcious 'twould not be believed ; 
 For every rival would try to outdo 
 And flep in the flioe — of the gay Count Boloo : 
 They followed the game he fo coolly neglected, 
 And laughed in his fleeve, as might well be 
 expected. 
 
 Like a bee or a butterfly flirting about 
 Among many bloflbms, he foon found one out 
 On whom his fpontaneous affeftion he'd rivet, 
 "As dead as a nail," or "as right as a trivet." 
 To the gay Count Boloo all thefe words will 
 
 apply : 
 " While he'd one in his heart, he'd got two in 
 
 his eye." 
 He'd rifle a kifs fo luxuriantly fweet, 
 And care not how often the dofe to repeat. 
 
 When I mention a rifle 
 I don't mean to trifle,
 
 THE PENITENT. 
 
 143 
 
 And tell you the young Count Boloo 
 
 Was a Volunteer gay, 
 
 For at that time of day 
 They had nothing of that fort to do. 
 
 Such was the flate of the poll 
 
 When a mofh pious old foul, 
 
 One Father Paphnutius by name, 
 
 Had ferioufly noticed the fliame 
 
 Which fet all the place in a flame. 
 
 He'd have felt horrified * 
 
 Had the fair Thais died 
 
 In the fad flate of fin 
 
 She was in. 
 
 This old anchorite 
 
 One night " ftruck a light " — 
 
 I mean by that, 
 
 "He fmeh a rat" — 
 
 Which feem'd to illumine his heart with delight. 
 
 He'd throw off the clothing which anchorites 
 wear ; 
 
 He'd get a new fuit, and like mortal appear, 
 
 In the greateft of hope to get near — her ear.
 
 144 SAINT THAIS 
 
 The fair Thais 
 On her dais 
 Would not have thought that very night 
 That flie'd receive, 
 Without her leave, 
 • A vifit from an anchorite. 
 When he folicited a room in private, 
 She never knew or guelT'd he meant to ftrive at 
 A fcene to her quite new, which we arrive at. 
 
 She faid : " No one can fee us here ; 
 
 '' But p'rhaps it's confcience that you fear. 
 " If fo, dear Sir, without the flight eft doubt, 
 " I have no private room will keep that out." 
 
 " What !" cried the Father, in his holy zeal, 
 " Amidft thy fms haft thou the power to feel 
 " That inward monitor ? My talk is bleft ! 
 " New infpirations now my heart inveft. 
 " Oh, let me beg, let me by all entreat — 
 " Thy better feelings may thy worfe defeat — 
 " That thou'lt renounce this life for evermore ! 
 " 'Twas this alone I came here to implore ;
 
 THE PENITENT. 1 45 
 
 " For there are days to come when fad and folemn 
 
 gloom 
 " Will make thee feel thyfelf an emblem of the 
 
 tomb. 
 " When beauty leaves thee — when the charms 
 
 which now 
 " Have pow'r to rob another's virtuous brow 
 " Shall wither — when the luflre of thine eyes 
 " Will only glare to fee how they defpife 
 " The fleeting pleafures of the prefent hour — 
 " When irremeably they lofe their power, 
 " And all the falfe temptations thou canft blend 
 " Will be inert to reach the wifli'd-for end ; 
 " For age, if ficknefs comes not with thy fate, 
 " Will teach thee griefs too dreadful to relate ; 
 " And thofe who now carefs thee in their lull 
 " Will turn upon thee with extreme difguft. 
 " Say where, amidfh the world's capricious ftrife, 
 "■ Will pity yield thee aught to make thy life 
 " But as a fwollen ftream, which onward goes, 
 " Compell'd by force to druggie in its throes, 
 " Unconfcious of its courfe as thou wilt be, 
 " 'Till flowing on the confines of Eternity .''
 
 146 SAINT THAIS 
 
 " Oh, let me check thy fad, thy heedlefs courfe, 
 " And fave thee from the bitterefl remorfe ! 
 " By firm repentance, turn each fcene of care x 
 " To all that's great, that's good, that's heavenly / 
 
 fair, 
 " And fnatch thee, as a viftim, from Defpair." 
 
 The holy Father work'd fo on her feeling, 
 
 She felt contrition o'er her fenfes fhealing. 
 
 And faid: "The words thou'fl fpoken make me 
 
 feel 
 " More than my tongue has power to reveal. 
 
 Three hours grant me, Father, I befeech, 
 ' Before I fly to learn the truths you teach." 
 
 u 
 
 The wealth flie'd amalT'd in her vicious career, 
 Now her feelings were changed, as drofs would 
 
 appear ; 
 But in cafe a relapfe might tempt her to wander 
 To thoughts of the paft, or for fear ftie might 
 
 ponder 
 On gifts once her idol, but now her regret, 
 In deftroying them all it might make her forget
 
 THE PENITENT. 1 47 
 
 Their exiftence, and with them all chance of 
 
 returning 
 To the life flie had led, now with piety burning. 
 She therefore determined the whole of the 
 
 treafures 
 Which had compromifed her with improvident 
 
 pleafures 
 Should be taken away that very fame day, 
 And demoliihed by fire in an auto-da-fe. 
 
 To the great market-place flie had them conveyed, 
 And one on the top of another was laid, 
 Pile upon pile, until higher and higher 
 'Twould almofl outrival famed " Salifbury fpire ;" 
 The wardrobes, rich carvings, the piftures and 
 
 plate, 
 Her own pretty dais, where llie erft fat in ftate, 
 With defigns of all forts, well worthy attention. 
 And all the et c^eteras too many to mention ; 
 'Twas a glorious "lot" for an auftioneer's lift, 
 Only wanting a Robins his hammer to twifl, 
 'Twould furely have raifed fuch a quantum of 
 
 grift. 
 Holy Church would have grabbed like a vice in 
 
 her fift. 
 
 L 1
 
 148 SAINT THAIS 
 
 She invited Boloo 
 And the whole of the crew 
 To fee her great road inftead of her flew, 
 Which made the fpeftators remarkably blue, 
 Excepting one — the game Boloo, 
 Who cried out " cock-a-doodle-doo!" 
 For he was given much to crowing, 
 And didn't care for mortal going. 
 
 When the monks had obferved (he'd burnt all her 
 
 flock up, 
 Paphnutius conducted her into a " lock-up ;" 
 Then he placed on the door an immenfe feal of 
 
 lead, 
 " Leaden type " to the world that fair Thais 
 
 was dead. 
 To the nuns he commanded precifely each day 
 To give her fome bread and a pitcher of water, 
 That flefli in her thoughts fliould no longer have 
 
 fway, 
 And a mofl " perfeft cure " for fair frailty's 
 
 daughter. 
 Three years fhe remained in this defolate cell, 
 When Paphnutius went out to Saint 'Tony to tell 
 That fair Thais behaved fo remarkably well
 
 THE PENITENT. 1 49 
 
 He thought fhe might now have Ibme 
 eafement. 
 Saint 'Tony referred the affair to another, 
 One called Paul the Simple, a clerical brother, 
 Who perhaps did his befl the hard matter to 
 fmother. 
 
 And fent the next day her releafement. 
 
 But in fifteen days after the fair Thais died ; 
 In the Grecian Menology (he's fanftified ; 
 And all I can hope is that you'll not deride 
 The thought that Saint Thais is p'rhaps glorified. 
 
 Addenda. 
 
 I can't find a moral laid down in the text, 
 Tho' I think I've work'd up to the letter ; 
 
 Fair Thais's morals were very perplex'd, 
 And perchance I could not do much better 
 
 Than give you an adage both happy and quaint — 
 
 " The greater the finner, the greater the faint."
 
 THE MYRTLE AND LAUREL.* 
 
 A TREATISE ON GARDENING. 
 
 Set to Mujtc by Clement White. 
 
 j S Venus was tending her garden one day, 
 Her favourite myrtle all drooping (lie 
 fpied ; 
 
 Its leaflets were flirunken, and ruthlefs decay 
 Seem'd to mark for its own poor Venus's pride. 
 
 Affrighted and trembling flie ran to bold Mars 
 
 And told her fad (lory. The warrior laughed — 
 "Why, Venus, my love, by your ocular flars, 
 " The poor thing is weakly and wanting a graft." 
 
 * The myrtle is facred to Venus and the laurel to Mars.
 
 152 THE MYRTLE AND LAUREL. 
 
 His falchion he drew, and a laurel he lliced, 
 The noblefl, the greeneft, and brightefl of trees, 
 
 And this to the quivering myrtle he fpliced, 
 Which fluttered amid the foft Paphian breeze. 
 
 A plant foon appear'd of the laurel's bright hue, 
 
 Combining in fragrance the myrtle's fweet air ; 
 
 And ever fmce then a fond fympathy grew 
 
 'Twixt the brow of the brave and the bread of 
 the fair.
 
 "SYMPATHY," 
 
 AND 
 
 WHERE IT MAY BE FOUND. 
 
 NEGRO parfon from a block 
 Held forth to his attentive flock, 
 And after having told them all 
 The penalties that fm befall, 
 He then bemoaned unchrifl:ian feeling, 
 And faid, "The duty of each man 
 Confided in his always healing 
 Another's forrow when he can ; " 
 And after all his exhortation 
 He thought he'd give fome confolation 
 By faying, " When the world's unkind, 
 I'll tell you where you'll always find 
 Out ' Sympathy.' " The darkies rofe 
 (Delighted, as you may fuppofe),
 
 154 " SYMPATHY." 
 
 And cried, " Oh ! MaiTa, tell um where 
 " To find dat joy to foothe um care." 
 With knowing look, the worthy paflor 
 Said, as he twilled round his caftor, 
 "I'll tell you where — and it will never vary 
 "You'll always find it in the 'Dictionary. 
 
 J jj
 
 LETHE.* 
 
 THE MORNING THOUGHT OF A REVELLER. 
 
 glS^^^~^F, in the vifion of expiring thought, 
 
 There Hngers all the happinefs we're 
 taught, 
 I'd feize the chalice which appears fo fraught 
 
 With ev'ry blifs, tho' to the dregs I fought — 
 If Lethe were the font from whence the ftream 
 Pour'd forth oblivion to fulfil the dream. 
 
 If in continual reft the foul might lie, 
 By one quietus, dormant and forgiven, 
 
 'Twould foon the troubles of the world defy, 
 And waft the fpirit to its kindred heaven. 
 
 * A river of Hell, whofe waters the fouls of the dead 
 drank after they had been confined for a certain fpace of time 
 in Tartams. It had the power of making them forget what- 
 ever they had done, feen, or heard before, as the name im- 
 plies — X>j0ij, oblivion.— Lempriere,
 
 156 LETHE. 
 
 Then wherefore paufe to grafp the deadly bowl, 
 Since driblets kill the mind, where then's the foul? 
 
 'Twere furely not a greater fin to die 
 
 By one deep draught, and quench the mortal fire, 
 
 Than that we feek a temporal fupply 
 Of that which fome fo ardently delire. 
 
 Hark! Lethe cries, " Poor mortals ! live ye on 
 
 A foretafle of my flream, ' Oblivion ! ' "
 
 i( 
 
 THE EVERLASTING GOLD PEN. 
 
 V 
 
 DEDICATED TO F. MORDAN. 
 
 HERE'S pleafure in a Guinea Pen, 
 
 It gives us fuch a lift ; 
 - No quill pluck'd from a Guinea hen 
 Could ever write fo fwift. 
 The pen's poiTefTed of reafon too, 
 And eafily can help us through, 
 
 Tho' we can fcarcely fpell ; 
 For when we doubt about a word, 
 The pen's aware of what's occurr'd, 
 And very foon can tell 
 That if it hies along 
 With flouriili-dafli-in running-hand, 
 'Twill take experts to underftand 
 If written right or wrong.
 
 158 ''the everlasting gold pen." 
 
 " The Everlafting Pen/' they fay, 
 Will laft for ever and a day ; 
 But what that extra day may be 
 Has taxed my ingenuity. 
 I've heard about the " Iron Railing " 
 They advertife will always laft 
 For ever, and not then furpaffed — 
 To fave the cuftomers from wailing, 
 They'll buy the iron to recaft. 
 So in the pen the gold's innate, 
 And we may always eftimate 
 'Twill realize each pen-nyweight. 
 
 Moral. 
 
 And men, like pens, will all be worth 
 Their value for their good alone, 
 Since pen-itents can all atone ; 
 And there's no doubt but well it is 
 That extra day's refer ved on earth 
 To fettle all our pen-alties.
 
 (( 
 
 LOVE'S PUREST STAR." 
 
 HERE is a prefTure of the hand, 
 
 Once felt, thrills thro' the throbbing 
 heart — 
 A tale that heart can underfland, 
 
 Tho' trembling lips dare not impart. 
 The hand which thus has fondly preft 
 Conveys the fpell from breaft to breaft. 
 
 There is a look which, once exchanged. 
 Says more than e'en the tongue can name ; 
 
 And, tho' to others ever changed, 
 That look to thee is flill the fame ; 
 
 It tells, tho' hope delufive prove, 
 
 The heart may yet in filence love.
 
 i6o "love's purest star." 
 
 'TIs not that gaze fo often fix'd 
 
 When thoufand kiflres glad the eye ; 
 
 'Tis mild, and foft, and flrangely mix'd 
 With blighted hope and vacancy ; 
 
 Whilft thro' the film is feen afar, 
 
 By thee alone, "Love's pureft Star."
 
 "MEAT versus FISH." 
 
 A CANONICAL DISTINCTION. 
 
 PRIEST had once a ferving-man 
 Defcended from an African — 
 ! A woolly-headed fort of nigger, 
 Who, tho' in conduft calm and mute, 
 In appetite was always eager. 
 Which made his intelleft acute. 
 
 The Prieft a ftrift injunftion gave 
 That, as his precious soul he'd save. 
 On Fridays he mufl never eat 
 The fmalleft particle of " meat ;" 
 But, jufl to gratify his wiih. 
 He might indulge in eggs or "fifli." 
 
 M
 
 i62 "meat versus fish." 
 
 One day the Priefl's olfaftory nerve 
 Suggefted James was going to fwerve 
 From Friday's abflinence, for he 
 Smelt onions moft delicioufly, 
 
 Which James was frying in a pan ; 
 And that his nofe — ihould not impofe, 
 Abruptly from his seat he rofe, 
 
 And quickly to the kitchen ran, 
 Where, horror-ftruck, he flood and bridled 
 To see beeffteak and onions frizzled ; 
 And, as the curfed feaft he eyed, 
 With rage indignantly he cried : — 
 " You varlet ! this vile dereliction 
 " From what the holy Pope is teaching 
 " Deferves fome dreadful malediftion ! 
 " And, after all my pious preaching, 
 " To catch you eating ' meat ' to-day 
 " Surpaffes all I've pow'r to fay." 
 
 By all that's holy blacky fwore 
 His mind felt eafy on that fcore, 
 And faid — "As certain as my name's 
 " No longer Sambo, but is James,
 
 "meat versus fish." 163 
 
 " That bit of fleak is no more ' meat ' 
 
 " Than fugar-cane, however fweet. 
 
 " With water you did fprinkle me, 
 
 " And faid I henceforth James ihould be, 
 
 " Tho' Sambo then had been my name. 
 
 " Now with that fteak I did the fame ; 
 
 " I fprinkled it upon the difh, 
 
 " And faid, henceforth your name is ' fifh.' " 
 
 M 2
 
 il. 
 
 RECONCILIATION. 
 
 jj 
 
 THE blacksmith's WIFE's REPLY. 
 
 Set to Mufic by Clement White. 
 
 jOU may think as you like, but I truly 
 can fay 
 That afFeftion binds faft where it takes ; 
 Tho' you may not lay by for the great " rainy day," 
 
 Yet the outcafl in life often makes 
 The fondefh devotion a wife once beftowM 
 Still gleam on through all as it ardently glow'd. 
 
 There's a warmth in the heart that's more fervent 
 
 to me 
 Than the embers which warm your poor hands ; 
 For the words you have fpoken I've treafured with 
 
 glee. 
 
 And my breafl with its pleafure expands.
 
 1 66 "reconciliation 
 
 55 
 
 Oh, ever through life may you feek to attain 
 That folace at home which can foothe ev'ry pain ! 
 
 Then the poor fmould'ring embers would blaze 
 forth fo bright, 
 
 As together we fann'd the warm fire. 
 And the fparks would engender a flame of delight, 
 
 If we'd only the pow'r to infpire 
 That fympathy left, which, united, would fliine 
 In rays whofe pure beams would be pleafure divine. 
 
 The forge and the bellows you long have rejefted 
 
 May blow a loud blafh as before, 
 
 And your wife, when flie finds file's no longer 
 neglefted. 
 
 Would rejoice in the old welcome roar. 
 
 As the fparks from your anvil would brilliantly fly, 
 
 Refl:oring the comforts you ufed to fupply.
 
 THE WIT AND THE HOST. 
 
 A TALE OF THE LEDGER.
 
 THE WIT AND THE HOST. 
 
 A TALE OF THE LEDGER. 
 
 NE of thofe happy jovial boys, 
 
 In whofe fociety we pafs 
 'Brief hours of terreflrial joys, 
 Was form'd by nature to furpafs 
 The av'rage of the witty clafs, 
 And give new zeft to ev'ry glafs. 
 
 Although his eloquence could flow. 
 Yet 'twas to him no fource of money; 
 
 For, by example, well we know 
 
 The bee which makes the fweetefl honey 
 
 May in delufive hope fly farthefl:. 
 
 And yet not reap the richefl harvefl:.
 
 70 THE WIT AND 
 
 So wit fometimes, with extra fpark, 
 May not achieve the point it meant, 
 
 But rather overilioot the mark, 
 Tho' utter'd with a good intent ; 
 
 For 'tis not ev'ry one that can 
 
 Brook fatire from another man. 
 
 The landlord of the hoftelry 
 
 Was quite incapable to take 
 The sallies of his revelry, 
 
 And alfo made a great miftake 
 In tendering a long old fcore 
 For grogs the wit had drunk of yore. 
 
 This rupture made the wit betake 
 
 Himfelf unto a rendezvous. 
 Where, for his talents and his sake, 
 
 The others follow' d {entre nous) ; 
 So that the former houfe was left 
 Entirely of guefts bereft. 
 
 The same diverfions as before. 
 
 Of courfe, took place in their new quarter ; 
 The wit commenced another fcore 
 
 For fundry drops of gin and water ;
 
 THE HOST, 171 
 
 While all the thne old Boniface 
 Wifli'd that he would his fteps retrace. 
 
 He foon found out his fooliih error, 
 
 For in the future he forefaw 
 That dread of dreads — to all a terror — 
 
 The broker knocking at his door. 
 Poor man ! he gladly would atone, 
 Tho' all he did was curfe and groan. 
 
 Continual thinking clears the mind. 
 And, after all, he wifely thought 
 
 He'd not be harfli, but would be kind, 
 For dearly he'd experience bought, 
 
 And daily sought an opportunity 
 
 To win the wit to his community. 
 
 The time momentous came at laft ; 
 
 He faw him walking up the ftreet, 
 And, jufl before the door he pafT'd, 
 He welcomed him with friendly greet. 
 " Good day, dear fir ! the weather's fine ) 
 ''This moment I'm about to dine,
 
 i.']1 THE WIT AND 
 
 " And fliall be happy if you feel 
 " Inclined within my houfe to walk. 
 
 " My joy I fcarcely can reveal ; 
 
 " Step in, we'll have a friendly talk, 
 
 " And o'er a glafs of fparkling wine 
 
 " We'll fpeak about the auld lang fyne." 
 
 And, nothing loth, the wit accepted 
 The hofpitality he profFer'd ; 
 
 His ftomach would have much objected 
 To lofe a treat fo kindly offer'd, 
 
 Since fortune fmiled not every day 
 
 In fuch a pleafant fort of way. 
 
 The dinner o'er, the hofh proceeded 
 Towards a cupboard, whence he took 
 
 A regifter of bills he needed — 
 In fa£t, it was the pond'rous book 
 
 In which the wit's long fcore was noted, 
 
 The fame the landlord once had quoted. 
 
 Then in his hand he took plumbago, 
 And thus addrelTed his friend the wit : 
 " I fwear by all! by great Saint Jago! 
 " That half this fcore which I have writ
 
 THE HOST. 173 
 
 " I'll cancel through — if you'll be true 
 " And bid the other houfe adieu." 
 
 " What!" faid the wit, " one half the fcore off! 
 " Such gen'rous conduft melts my foul." 
 Then quick the other half he tore off, 
 And cried — " We balance on the whole ; 
 '^ From this fame day I'll make amends, 
 " And ever after we'll be friends." 
 
 " I'm of an independent mind, 
 
 " And when I meet a noble heart 
 
 " Congenial with it, you will find 
 " An equal feeling I'll impart ; 
 
 " For I am not to be outdone 
 
 " In gen'rous deeds by any one." 
 
 Within a week the houfe again 
 
 Began to flourifli as before ; 
 The landlord knew 'twas all in vain 
 
 To charge the wit another fcore. 
 Their friendfliip met no further mar, 
 For wit and wine were on a par.
 
 THE NOISY DEBATE. 
 
 How often we meet with men pofTeffed of a certain tempera- 
 ment of mind, who, having been engaged all day in the harafling 
 tranfa(5tions of bufinefs, refort of an evening to their taverns for 
 the fake of conviviality, and, having fpent the time in general 
 converfation, from fome caufe or another enter into argu- 
 ments which they are quite incapable of carrying out ; while 
 a fhrewd man, watching his opportunity, and having gleaned 
 their beft thoughts, with a dafh and daring will carry off the 
 palm. 
 
 ULL many toails they will propofe, 
 
 And many glorious healths they'll 
 drink, 
 
 Till fome are getting quite jocofe, 
 
 While others in oblivion fmk. 
 
 A man poflelled of common fenfe 
 Can fleer through any argument 
 (When two or three at once are talking) ; 
 Rife on your legs and thus comment :
 
 176 THE NOISY DEBATE. 
 
 '' You fpoke in an imperfeft tenfe " — 
 Say anything by way of balking — 
 The Chairman then will rife to order, 
 And throw their brains in more diforder ; 
 The Vice will alfo alk the wherefore, 
 While you affert your why and therefore, 
 Then with politenefs take your feat ; 
 But mind one thing, pray don't negleft 
 To bow with ev'ry due refpeft 
 Both to the Chair and Vice — the feat 
 Is half accompliflied ; then condenfe 
 The bed of what each one has faid, 
 And (lore it well within your head. 
 With feeming diffidence arife, 
 As if again you would commence. 
 And when the Chair "attention" cries 
 The cream of their own thoughts relate, 
 As if it fprang from your own pate ; 
 It's fure to bear an extra glofs 
 When cleared from all its former drofs : 
 Mind and deliver it concifely, 
 Declare they are your thoughts precifely. 
 The argument is then the bone, 
 Contention yields to you alone ;
 
 THE NOISY DEBATE. 1 77 
 
 And when they feek for a declfion 
 On points of which they've loft all trace, 
 Then look them firmly in the face, 
 And fay it was your own precifion 
 Which led them from a great delufion — 
 Take odds they'll come to your conclufion. 
 
 N
 
 UNTOLD LOVE, 
 
 IN IMITATION OF COLERIDGe's " GENEVIEVE." 
 
 HE doth not reck, (lie cannot dream, 
 
 And chance 'twould not e'en pity- 
 move. 
 
 How one whom flie hath httle known 
 
 Is dying of her love. 
 
 Oh, mem'ry ! can I e'er forget 
 That moment when in beauty bright 
 She rofe upon the purple eve 
 A miracle of light ? 
 
 As rofy clouds o'er Grecian iky, 
 Which through the liquid ether chafe. 
 So bluflies flitted o'er and o'er 
 The beauty of her face ; 
 
 N 2
 
 l8o UNTOLD LOVE. 
 
 While through the foliage of her hair, 
 Cluft'ring around that marble neck, 
 Thofe bluflies dealing from her cheek, 
 Anon its fnow would deck. 
 
 That wondrous beauty with a grace — 
 A {lately virgin grace — (lie wore, 
 Which whifper'd her as one lefs form'd 
 To love than to adore. 
 
 Her charms, fo dream-like, feized my soul, 
 Yet, oh ! 'twas fill'd with mournful fears ; 
 For well I knew a wayward fate 
 
 Might call me forth for years. 
 
 Yet all, alas ! to me is vain, 
 And time itfelf can only prove 
 How twined (lie is around my heart, 
 Now dying of her love.
 
 RUTH, 
 
 THE GLEANER, 
 
 |HEN Ruth went forth to glean in Boaz' 
 
 land, 
 
 The widow's charms to him appear' d 
 fo fweet, 
 
 That, by Naomi's wilhes and command, 
 
 She flept that night befide the rich man's feet. 
 
 Recklefs of him who melted at her tears, 
 And gazed with pity on her flate forlorn. 
 
 The ingrate vixen pull'd his lengthy " ears," 
 And Rutb\e(i\y die trod upon his "corn."
 
 "THE stepping-stones; 
 
 A RIVER SCENE.
 
 u 
 
 THE STEPPING-STONES." 
 
 A RIVER SCENE. 
 
 N Scotland, where the lalTes wander 
 O'er heath and thro' the moffy dells, 
 And by the ftreamlets that meander 
 Amidft fweet banks of afphodels, 
 There Nature was in beauty thrufting 
 
 Forth the blolToms on each tree, 
 And all the germs of plants were burfling 
 
 Into new nativity. 
 The lark fang fweetly upward flying. 
 
 And fwallows ikimm'd the filent lake, 
 Whofe furface look'd fo fmooth and bright, 
 Unbroken, like a flieet of light, 
 Excepting where the fportive trout 
 The circling eddies plafli'd about ;
 
 I 86 "THE STEPPING-STONES." 
 
 Or where the fwan, with (lately gait, 
 His feath'ry pinions beautifying 
 
 As pure and white as fnowy flake, 
 With crefled neck and puff'd-up plume 
 Caft far afide the liquid fpume, 
 
 And fondly fwam towards his mate. 
 Whilft herds in calm repofe were lying 
 
 Beneath the flielter of the brake. 
 The balmy air, with odours fraught, 
 The fcents of various flow'rs brought, 
 And wafted round their rich perfume. 
 
 The bee humm'd forth his joyous tone ; 
 
 The bufy ants were in commotion ; 
 
 While fpiders fpun their magic webs, 
 And in the placid fcene was fliown. 
 
 By all things in their day's devotion. 
 
 The courfe of Nature never ebbs, 
 
 Acrofs a flream whofe graflfy ridge 
 
 Has never yet been fpann'd by bridge. 
 
 But where the " Stepping-flones " were placed 
 
 By thofe whofe fleps had often traced
 
 "THE STEPPING-STONES.' 187 
 
 From bank to bank the limpid fhream — 
 There, on thofe " flones," one funny day, 
 I met a nymph about midway 
 
 Whofe beauty haunts me like a dream. 
 
 One " ftone " abruptly rofe, on which 
 Two at a time could fcarcely fland — 
 
 The foot-hold was a little niche — 
 
 And at a glance I could perceive 
 
 'Twas doubtful if flie could achieve 
 To ftep acrofs without my hand, 
 
 Which, with a blulli and downcall look, 
 
 The lovely, bailiful maiden took. 
 
 Oh, what a tremulous fenfation 
 
 Thrill'd through my bofom as I felt, 
 
 In that brief moment's fweet pulfation 
 Of hands, what happinefs there dwelt ! 
 
 I could but turn my gaze afide 
 From charms fo beauteouily allied ; 
 For, as (lie flood upon the "ftone," 
 A hallow'd light around her flione ; 
 And in the cryftal flream I fpied.
 
 1 88 "the stepping-stones." 
 
 Reveal'd in Nature's looking-glafs, 
 The reflex of that lovely lafs — 
 A lafs moft beauteous to behold, 
 One caft in Nature's lovelieft mould ; 
 For on this earth we feldom find 
 Such virtue and fuch grace combined. 
 A rofeate bloom her cheeks o'erfpread 
 As furtively, with half-turn'd head. 
 Her eyes, of fweet cerulean blue. 
 She partly ope'd, and then withdrew ; 
 Such dazzling orbs of beauty bright 
 Seem'd o'er her face the tint to dight. 
 Soon was the tender truth reveal'd — 
 A truth which could not be conceal'd — 
 That love was twining round my heart, 
 And would its tender tale impart. 
 
 If young NarcifTus * Hood amazed 
 When he beheld in glafly water 
 The aqueous form on which he gazed, 
 
 • A beautiful youth, who faw his image refle(5ted in a foun- 
 tain, and became enamoured of it, thinking it to be the nymph 
 of the place. His fruitlefs attempts to approach this admired 
 objed fo provoked him that he giew defperate, and killed
 
 "the stepping-stones." 189 
 
 Nor knew that image was himfelf — 
 
 Had he but feen that fairy daughter 
 As I beheld her in the brook 
 Reflected like a mountain fylph, 
 So bright a picture of delight 
 Painted by Heaven's ethereal light, 
 As fed my fond enraptured fight, 
 He would have felt the fpell's refplendence 
 So lovely in its great tranfcendence, 
 That, with furprife and penfive look, 
 Inflead of pining lone and fmgle. 
 He would have wooed her virgin charms. 
 To neftle in his youthful arms, 
 And own'd, combined, they had the pow'r 
 
 With ecflafy to intermingle. 
 And form on earth " a double flower." 
 
 That laffie's wed, and happy now, 
 
 Tho' years have fled, and age has planted 
 
 Some furrows on the matron's brow ; 
 And e'en her hair, it mufl be granted, 
 
 himfelf His blood was changed into a flower, which still 
 bears his name. The nymphs raifed a funeral pile to burn 
 his body, according to Ovid, but they found nothing but a 
 beautiful flower.
 
 I 90 " THE STEPPING-STONES 
 
 Tl 
 
 Which once in rich luxuriance grew, 
 Has now attain'd a filv'ry hue ; 
 Yet, through the vifta of the pafl, 
 
 The vilion of that happy day 
 On mem'ry's page will ever lad, 
 
 When Nature, in her grand array, 
 O'er hill and dale had bloffoms fhrown, 
 And we flood on the " Stepping-ftone."
 
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 I ^/^^^Jt^'ff^ A ""/"^Ni^^^tf^ 
 
 
 IS; 
 
 
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 ^ i-<T ^^ .^^^^^'^^ \ -1^ ^/ ,^^^^^'*' 
 
 ! 
 
 \f 
 
 
 --^~- -'^■^\/^"~-^__--^w.^Vj;dI__,^/\/^^^_^__ . 
 
 THE DEVIL OUTWITTED. 
 
 WO Lawyers who had always Ihown 
 Contention over ev'ry bone 
 That in the kennel of the law 
 Fell under their rapacious jaw, 
 And fpiteful, as with adders' teeth, 
 And very wafpifli in their heart, 
 Kept all their poifon in its llieath, 
 Determined for a deadly bite. 
 
 If either one fliould dare impart 
 A ''ca/us belli'' for a fight. 
 
 "At daggers drawn," 
 They had forsworn
 
 192 THE DEVIL OUTWITTED. 
 
 All friendly intercourfe ; 
 And having paiT'd life's gayest time 
 In ev'ry sort of sin and crime, 
 
 They flili felt no remorfe ; 
 When in the courfe of Nature's laws 
 Grim Death flepp'd in and alk'd the caufe 
 Why lives they'd led fo curfed evil 
 Should not be tefted by the Devil ? 
 
 The Lawyers, like " Kilkenny cats " 
 (When hanging o'er the line). 
 
 Were plucky as two barn-door rats, 
 Or quilly porcupine. 
 
 And, nothing daunted, coincided 
 
 To do whatever Death decided. 
 
 But when the Devil faw his clients, 
 He ponder'd forely in his mind. 
 
 And felt how vain was all his fcience 
 Againft fuch villains of their kind ; 
 For he knew well — he could not find. 
 Not e'en in Hell, 
 Where demons dwell,
 
 THE DEVIL OUTWITTED. 1 93 
 
 One to excel 
 
 Thofe Lawyers fell ; 
 They were fo bad 'twould be a sin 
 Beneath Hell's roof to let them in ; 
 Their lofs he thought he'd not deplore, 
 And very wifely clofed the door, 
 For much he fear'd each fiendifli elf 
 Might " turn the tables " on himfelf. 
 
 o
 
 OLL A PODRI DA ; 
 
 OR, 
 
 RAILWAY JOTTINGS. 
 
 O 2
 
 OLLA PODRIDA; 
 
 OR, 
 
 RAILWAY JOTTINGS. 
 
 NE hour to flop before the train departs ; 
 But then, the porter fays it never ftarts 
 Precifely to its time, but rather o'er, 
 
 Becaufe another train mufh come before ; 
 
 And that, he fays, invariably is late ; 
 
 So there's no telling what's the time to wait. 
 
 But wait I mufl, with feelings of compunftion ; 
 
 It's always fo — when at a railway jun<5tion. 
 
 Talking of junftions, that famed one at Clapham 
 Appears to all who happen to be foreign 
 
 As if 'twere made expreffly to entrap 'em 
 With ins and outs, juft like a rabbit-warren. 
 
 Even the porters feem as if abhorring 
 
 So many queflions, and not make a florin.
 
 198 OLLA PODRIDA. 
 
 There you mud burrow, with a kind of dread, 
 To fee which ftairs will prove for you eifeftive, 
 
 And very often find yourfelf Mifs-led 
 
 By ftockings white, advancing in perfpe£live : 
 
 Subftantial proofs, ere you can reach the landing, 
 
 That Engliili women have good underftanding. 
 
 Now, how to pafs the time? — why, that's the thing ! 
 
 It's not the place to fmoke, nor yet to fmg. 
 
 I'm not inclined to walk, and that Havannah 
 
 (Which, coding fixpence, fhould be fweet as 
 manna) 
 
 Was horrid fluff; my lips are parch'd and sear, 
 
 Which certainly entails fome " bitter beer." 
 
 It's ftrange there's no dependence on cigars ; 
 As far as I'm concern'd, it oft debars 
 Their ufe. Give me the pure Virginian weed 
 Cut into flireds, and with a pipe I need 
 No greater boon ; in that I feel reliance : 
 I'll keep to pipes, and bid cigars defiance. 
 
 What's to be done ? I've paper, pen, and ink ; 
 Now for a fubjeft, and the brain to think !
 
 OLLA PODRIDA. 1 99 
 
 Oh, sunny Thought ! come whifper in my ears, 
 
 That I may book thee ; for my pen appears 
 
 As if a dip of ink would do it good : 
 
 'Tis a sad glutton, and it never would 
 
 Be quiet for a moment, but keep fcribbling 
 
 As fure as moufe at toafted cheefe keeps nibbling. 
 
 Now, dearefl Pfyche ! — emblem of the soul ! — 
 Give me the thought — the pen's at thy control 1 
 Oh, elevate me with thy wings to try 
 The realms of fpace, like thee, bright butterfly I 
 What ! deaf to my entreaty ? — no reply ? 
 Thou know'ft I cannot grafp thee, fo good-bye ! 
 
 Delve then, my Mufe, into funereal urn. 
 Promethean like, and filch the latent fire. 
 
 If fmould'ring in the grave it yet can burn ; 
 For thou wouldft then be able to infpire 
 
 Me with a theme from regions drear and dread. 
 
 To teach the living fecrets from the dead. 
 
 Now dive into the deniity fo deep 
 
 Of oceans wide, and fee if thou art able 
 
 To gain th' immortal prize that we fhould reap, 
 
 Couldfl thou but clutch the "great Atlantic Cable."
 
 200 OLLA PODRIDA. 
 
 There fleeps the fpark, although it dormant lies, 
 Like urn in earth, embedded in the fand ; 
 Yet, like the Phoenix, 'twill again arife 
 To ftretch from fliore to fliore the firebrand. 
 
 And thou. Pandora — 
 The greateft bore a 
 Man ever knew 
 With caufe to rue — 
 Say, what could be thy vicious fcope, 
 With thy infernal "Box of Pills," 
 Scattering about all forts of ills : 
 Then fay — there's nothing left but 
 "Hope?" 
 
 Goddefs of Chaflity ! thou fair Diana ! 
 What marvels to thy luflrous name belong ; 
 'Twere better to invoke thee on piano, 
 For I could not in purity of fong 
 Sing of thy midnight trip into the cave 
 Where young Endymion lay fo faft afleep. 
 Say, didft thou only go to take a peep ? 
 Or from what caufe didft thou fo mifbehave ?
 
 OLLA PODRIDA. 2,0 1 
 
 Thou furely muft have been a lunatic 
 
 Ever to think of playing fuch a trick. 
 
 What were thofe feelings which could aft ye on, 
 
 When once upon a time poor Aftceon, 
 
 Who only, like thyfelf, did take a peep, 
 
 But ever after had dire caufe to weep. 
 
 How was a man, while hunting, to fuppofe 
 
 He'd catch a lady without bathing-clothes ; 
 
 And then the deed thou didft was nought to brag, 
 
 To turn fo fine a youth into a " Stag ;" 
 
 No wonder madmen fuffer from the moon, a 
 
 Word synonymous with thine, " Chafle Luna." 
 
 There's a face in the moon, 
 And there's one in a fpoon, 
 If you doubt you had better fee in it ; 
 And another is found 
 On a tea-pot that's round, 
 But mind it's not hot with tea in it. 
 The fpoony one looks very much elongated ; 
 The other is jolly, like "Spurgeon," elated; 
 It's ftrange that fuch trifles fliould feem fo complex. 
 
 But there're always two fides to a pifture ; 
 Some like the concave, and fome the convex ; 
 Take your choice, I won't raile any itrifturc.
 
 202 OLLA PODRIDA. 
 
 Hail ! Venus ! Goddefs of the Cyprian lile ! 
 Come forth in all thy beauty, with a fmile 
 Of welcome ; for a vot'ry of thine own, 
 Oft have I been a fuppliant at thy throne. 
 Give me a theme that tender hearts may touch. 
 What ! filent ftill ? then p'rhaps I aiked too much. 
 
 I've fought the goddeffes — and yet it feems 
 
 As well to "go to Bath" — to get my themes ; 
 
 Since in Elyfmm I'm denied a berth, 
 
 I needs muft grovel on my mother earth, 
 
 And feel fome confolation in the fa^t. 
 
 Since heathen ladies don't know how to aft ; 
 
 And if ideal 
 Subjefts can't be found, 
 
 I'll keep to real. 
 Now a glance around — 
 "From the ridiculous to the fublime " 
 I've tried; now trot, my Mufe, in humble rhyme. 
 
 There are three ladies of the maiden type, 
 Whofe fummer bloom is rather more than ripe.^ 
 And in their ftyle they certainly appear 
 As if they moved in a luperior fphere ;
 
 OLLA PODRIDA. 203 
 
 But very angry feeras their warm debate, 
 I wonder what it is that they relate ? 
 What can have put them in fo hot a ftate ? 
 Yet one thing's certain, which I can defcry, 
 
 That beauty's not enhanced when words run 
 
 high. 
 'Tis flrange three women cannot live together 
 Without a quarrel, or a quibble — whether 
 The day will turn out fine, or rainy weather. 
 Or fome fuch trivial thing as men would blufh at, 
 A point which women flrenuoufly rufh at. 
 And all the ardour of their brain appears 
 To tantalize each other into tears ; 
 But men, whene'er you fee them fraternize, 
 Say " My dear boy ! " as if to patronize 
 Each other with the kindeft reciprocity, 
 Regardlefs as to age, or youth's precocity. 
 
 Men feel at times a certain elevation 
 
 Produced by wine, which women fcorn to know. 
 
 In faft, they fpurn it as a defecration ; 
 
 Tho' I have watched at times a certain glow, 
 
 Combined with other queer peculiarities, 
 
 Denoting there had been familiarities
 
 204 OLLA PODRIDA. 
 
 Between the bottle and themfelves conneftable; ] 
 
 ,i 
 
 But no, I mud be wrong, they're too refpe(5i:able 
 And wouldn't do fuch things, howe'er delegable.] 
 
 Now (landing on the platform — there's a fight — 
 A flim young man, above the average height, 
 With legs attenuated like a fpider. 
 And whip in hand, though he is no horfe rider ; 
 He feems ariflocratic in his bearing, 
 Yet a detefted " billy-cock " he's wearing. 
 With all the queflions about " who's your hatter," 
 There's little tafte difplayed about the matter. 
 Befide the " old black hat," I fee no " tile " 
 But bears the ftamp of a plebeian ftyle. 
 Excepting that famed one of "Peter Rubens," 
 The which of fliillings would about cod two tens. 
 That is a fovereign I mean, 
 Which bears the image of the Queen ; 
 And when you have the bill to fettle, 
 You mufl of courfe fliell out the metal. 
 But, tho' the drape is good, 'tis large, and then 
 It would extinguiih many little men ; 
 And hatters mull be dull, or do not care 
 About a fummer hat that's fit to wear.
 
 OLLA PODRIDA. 205 
 
 I've done with hats. That whip's to reprimand 
 
 A little dog, which fears to fit or (land, 
 
 But ever keeps a leer upon the whip, 
 
 Expe(Sl:ing it, if he iliould dare to trip. 
 
 Ignoble element in men to find 
 
 Brains brainlefs but to curb the canine mind. 
 
 Oh, what a nofe ! 'twould make an eagle blulh ! 
 Oh, Wellington ! (but, as he's dead, I'll hufii). 
 No hawk nor owl, with their mod fapient look. 
 Would ever dare to gaze on such a hook ; 
 Yet thofe who have a nofe which breaks the line 
 Derive it from the eagle — "aquiline;" 
 Or, turn'd the other way, and not fo fnug, 
 From dog (almoft extin6l) they call " a pug." 
 Give me the nofe that's neither one nor t'other, 
 But takes a happy medium 'twixt the two. 
 Such as Apollo's, and a certain few 
 Examples left us flill from Greece, their mother. 
 
 Ha ! see that porter there, with ingenuity 
 Baffling the railway law about " gratuity!" 
 See how he (lands, with finger on his lip, 
 Whilfl with the other hand "he takes a tip."
 
 2o6 OLLA PODRIDA. 
 
 Well ! if fome gen'rous people feel inclined 
 To treat civility by being kind, 
 I see no caufe why they fhould ever fmother 
 The impulfe — "One good turn deferves another" — 
 As public fervants take them, great and fmall ; 
 I've always met with courtlinefs from all. 
 
 There is a youth with Dr. Watts' s hymns, 
 Obferve his eye how bufily it flvims — 
 Not that mod moral book 
 (Belonging to his little brother^ ; 
 He only holds it as a blind, 
 While he direfts his look 
 Of modefly upon another 
 Whofe lovelinefs flill brings to mind 
 "How fair is the rofe ! what a beautiful flower." 
 Her features disclofe — a moft magical power. 
 
 Upon a fettle fits a Volunteer, 
 
 Who's evidently primed himfelf with cheer ; 
 
 He has enrolled to aft as our defender. 
 
 And in his feelings is a "Young Pretender;'' 
 
 I mean that Charles for whom fo many drew 
 
 The fword, but after all it wouldn't do.
 
 OLLA PODRIDA. 207 
 
 I note a man ; he's playing with a child, 
 But in their faces fee no fimilarity ; 
 Is he the father ? No ! The lady fmiled, 
 And feem'd herfelf inclined for jocularity ; 
 But I've been told fome people give a cake, 
 "And kifs the baby for the mother's fake." 
 
 In durance vile I fee a ftrong man (lands. 
 With bracelets bright encircling his hands. 
 
 Or rather wrifts ; 
 
 See how he twifts, 
 While two policemen hold him in command. 
 
 It's eafy for conflruing 
 
 His " game " was for undoing 
 Some noble charter of the Britifli land. 
 
 A coffin and a racehorfe fide by fide, 
 A widow in her weeds, and then a bride 
 Fill up the vacuum of our fhrange career, 
 Where all things mortal unto death appear; 
 And yet the link which binds our lives, alas ! 
 Totters upon the fliuntings as we pafs.
 
 2o8 OLLA PODRIDA. 
 
 Hark ! there's a sound which makes my heart 
 
 rejoice. 
 Yes ; 'tis that fame old porter's nafal voice — 
 " Heigh, zur ! baint you for Pad-ding-ton ? 
 Yez's beft be fharp before the train be gone."
 
 THE BARON 
 
 AND HIS ADVISERS. 
 
 LIMB of the law and a lamb of divinity 
 Once felt on a fubje£lthe greateft affinity, 
 For a Baron they knew 
 Who'd a fine revenue, 
 Which at death might be left 
 To the folks who moft deft 
 Could curry the favour of fuch a rich man ; 
 And, knowing the proverb that "life's but a fpan," 
 While mutually fliaring their hoft's hofpitality, 
 The Lawyer fummed up of his wealth the totality. 
 While the Parfon defcanted on death and morality. 
 
 One day, after feafting and merrily fpending 
 The evening in drinking, with harmony blending,
 
 2IO THE BARON AND 
 
 Ere they had departed, the Baron fo bold, 
 
 From turbot and lobfter, or p'rhaps from a cold, 
 
 Fell grievoufly ill, when a melTenger ran 
 
 To fummon the aid of a medical man. 
 
 While the Doftor and Baron were quiet together, 
 
 The Priefl: and the Lawyer (both " birds of a 
 feather") 
 
 Stepp'd into a room, where, as cautious as mice, 
 
 They enter'd at once into mutual advice. 
 
 The Lawyer knew well how the wealth was 
 beftow'd. 
 
 Since he'd formerly drawn out the will. 
 And with fad difappointment he eafily fhow'd 
 That what had been left to himfelf and his friend 
 
 (After all their attention), was flill 
 From the bulk of the fortune a fmall dividend ; 
 And calmly propofed, if the Baron fhould die. 
 As they placed in each other — the faith of a 
 
 brother. 
 The original will they might p'rhaps falfify. 
 Or deftroy it at once, and then make out another. 
 Tho' the two were moft heedful, 
 Yet the Doflor was needful,
 
 HIS ADVISERS. 2 I I 
 
 To settle the matter they then had in hand, 
 
 And the firfh opportunity 
 
 They sought his community, 
 
 And with overtures found him moil pleafant and 
 bland. 
 
 Then thefe three men profefTional 
 
 Form'd a court or confefTional, 
 
 And againft the bold Baron concofted a plot 
 
 That by poifon that night he fhould meet his upfliot. 
 
 The Devil was fhrolling about on the prowl, 
 When a sound caught his ear like an Iriih howl, 
 And he felt in his heart (if the Devil has one) 
 That Death was performing the part of a dun, 
 And he wonder'd how fome of the Irifli folk 
 Could be hood-wink'd fo well by a priefl's filly joke. 
 As if he'd a talifman under his cloak ; 
 
 And the row that they make 
 
 At a dead Paddy's wake 
 Tlirough the ear 
 Rings fo clear 
 
 That no one can miftake. 
 But the found that he heard had a different cadence; 
 
 'Twas no fcream for a foul, that from earth then 
 had made hence.
 
 212 THE BARON AND 
 
 For he heard not the cry, 
 "Ah! fure, why did ye die?" 
 
 9 
 
 But more like rejoicing it feem'd to imply. 
 
 The trio were chatting away in their glee, 
 Hob-nobbing each other in great ecftafy, 
 When a form diabolical, '■'■ as in prefenti^^ 
 Prefented itfelf and cried out, "You all meant I 
 
 " Should be in the dark ; 
 
 " But mind this remark — 
 
 "When a Lawyer, a Doftor, and then a Divine, 
 
 " Come and chuckle and crow o'er a dead perfon's 
 
 wine, 
 " There needs not on my part fo very much fcience 
 
 " To judge there's unholinefs in the alliance. 
 
 "This man had bequeath'd all his fortune in charity, 
 
 " When you, in your greed, with the great eft 
 
 barbarity 
 " To rob thofe in want, went and cancell'd his will, 
 
 " Making one in your favour your pockets to fill, 
 
 " And then bribed the Do£lor his patient to kill." 
 
 The Lawyer admitted the will was his writing. 
 But infilled 'twas done by the others' inditing.
 
 HIS ADVISERS. 213 
 
 Cried the Doftor, "I own, for the fake of my meed, 
 " From the pangs of this world the poor fmner I 
 
 freed." 
 Said the Parfon, '' I tacitly witnefT'd the deed." 
 
 " But who forged his name ?" faid Old Nick, with 
 
 a paufe. 
 " No one's done it yet," cried the Lawyer, becaufe 
 " Whoe'er does it bed is to gain the applaufe." 
 Then the Devil exclaim'd, ' 'As I'm bound by no laws, 
 " I'll do it myfelf — -clap the pen in my claws ; 
 " For when you all die, as you're certain to come 
 ' ' To the regions below, which will be your lafl home, 
 '' I'll leave you jufl now to your pleafure and mirth, 
 " Since I find I'm fo well reprefented on earth." 
 
 But the Baron fo bold 
 Was not eafily " fold ; " 
 Tho' they thought they had " fettled his hafli," 
 He lay fnug in bed 
 And heard what they faid 
 About his eftates and his cafh. 
 By dint of good luck he had jufh "faved his bacon; " 
 For the poifon the Dodtor had fent to be taken
 
 2 14 THE BARON AND 
 
 He pour'd in a wine-glafs inflead of his throttle, 
 And then put it fafely again in the bottle. 
 Of phyfic he'd always the greatefl: antipathy, 
 And thought to himfelf in each drop that I drip 
 
 I fee- 
 Something that looks like a mixture that's naufeous. 
 So he tafted one drop, as he always was cautious, 
 Tho' not from a doubt that 'twas poifon within it — 
 He didn't fufpe£t fuch a thing for a minute. 
 But inflead of the phyfic he took eau de vie^ 
 Which kept him alive to " a dead certainty ; " 
 Yet the one drop of poifon, by fortunate chance. 
 Only brought on a fort of a torpor or trance, 
 From which he awoke 
 In the midft of their joke. 
 And felt very (hocked for humanity's fake, 
 Tho' about " Cloven Horny " he felt no miftake; 
 For, as flyly he cail his eye over the counterpane, 
 He faw fuch an objeft he ne'er wifli'd to fee again. 
 But he little expelled the Devil that night 
 Would have fliown up his friends in their colours 
 
 fo bright ; 
 And wifely determined, as foon as they'd fled, 
 Not to take any notice of what had been faid :
 
 HIS ADVISERS. 21$ 
 
 Since " Old Nick " was in league, he thought it 
 
 was bed 
 To keep his own counfel and let matters reft. 
 And Hift'ry relates 
 He fold his eftates, 
 And made up his mind that hereafter 
 All profeffional men fhould be kept at arm's length, 
 Since 'twas only by good luck and bodily ftrength 
 He awoke 'midft their horrible laughter. 
 
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