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 MILITIANA 
 
 AND OTHER RHYMES
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 M I LITIANA. 
 
 AND OTHER RHYMES. 
 
 BY 
 
 MAJOR WALKER, West York Rifles. 
 
 (A " Disembodied" Spirit.) 
 
 "Militia est potior." — Hor. lib. i. sat. i. 
 
 LONDON : 
 WYMAN & SONS, GREAT QUEEN STREET, 
 
 LINCOLN*S-INN FIELDS, W.C. 
 
 1 373-
 
 PR 
 
 5"J0% 
 
 <>- 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 
 
 MILITIANA. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 At Edinburgh i 
 
 At Alder shot. — South Camp 4 
 
 At Hythe 7 
 
 At Dover io 
 
 At Woolmer - 13 
 
 At Cahir 15 
 
 At Aldershot. — North Camp t 8 
 
 At Shorn cliff e 20 
 
 At Cashed 22 
 
 At Ayr 25 
 
 The Training 26 
 
 Our Regimental Races - 9 
 
 The Field Day 3 2 
 
 The Sergeant-major 35 
 
 The School for the Reserve 37 
 
 The Autumn of 187 2 4° 
 
 A Captain's Plea 4 2 
 
 The Orderly Officer's Report 43 
 
 3 - -
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 WAR LYRICS. 
 
 (a.d. 1870.) 
 
 PAGE 
 
 "To Arms!" 47 
 
 Good Taste (?) 49 
 
 An Awkward Age 5° 
 
 "The Times'" Surrender 5 1 
 
 "To Rifle, Rob, and Plunder!" ' 53 
 
 Thorwaldsai s Lion 54 
 
 German Resolve 55 
 
 Hark, Bismarck ! 55 
 
 Lutetia, December. T870 S h 
 
 "Militia est Potior" 5 7 
 
 A bs it Omen! 6 ° 
 
 MISCELLANEA. 
 
 Valentines 64,94 
 
 Charades 66,69, 70, 84, 91, 93, 98 
 
 Acrostics 67, 101, 107 
 
 Epigrams 8 4> io 4, 105 
 
 An Eclogue io 9 
 
 Spring IJ 3 
 
 Friendship 1L S 
 
 Exodus 1 1 7 
 
 &c. &*£ ©*£
 
 MILITIANA.
 
 AT EDINBURGH. 
 
 The gallant Rifles gave a ball ; 
 
 Our martinet old General, 
 
 So Argus-eyed, on faults would fall, 
 
 As sure as Armstrong gun. 
 An Ensign was detail'd for guard, 
 Lamenting that he was debarr'd 
 
 From joining in the fun. 
 
 But what won't ladies' charms achieve ? — 
 His conduct to record I grieve, 
 
 Yet Truth must have her say : 
 That Ensign, 'mid the glittering throng, 
 Was seen that night the sylphs among — 
 
 The gayest of the gay ! 
 B
 
 AT EDINBURGH. 
 
 The revelry was at its height, 
 In the small hours of the night, 
 When, lo ! he saw a moving sight — 
 
 The Cock'rf Hat going azvay ! 
 Oh ! now the truth he'll surely learn — 
 For well our Ensign knew he'd turn 
 
 The Guard out on his way. 
 
 No time to think ! He left the room, 
 Sprang up behind the great man's brougham, 
 And as, beneath the grateful gloom, 
 
 They near'd the castle-gate, 
 Rush'd from his perch, turn'd out his men, 
 Open'd the ranks, fix'd swords, and then 
 
 The Grand Rounds did await. 
 
 In great amaze, the K.C.B. 
 Stared at our hero as if he 
 
 Possess'd a Gorgon's head. 
 ' Sir, you were at the Ball to-night ! " 
 But not a word, save " Guard all right ! " 
 
 That prudent Ensign said.
 
 AT EDINBURGH. 
 
 " Were you, or weren't you, at the Ball ? " 
 " The Guard's all right, sir ! " that was all 
 
 This parrot would avouch. 
 A madder, but no wiser man, 
 The Gen'ral left the barbican, 
 Swearing, " I'll break him if I can ! " 
 
 And sought his knightly couch. 
 
 B 2
 
 ( 4 ) 
 
 AT ALDERSHOT.— SOUTH CAMP. 
 
 It's quite a feat to find your room, 
 
 When, 'mongst the huts, in midnight gloom 
 
 You see each block before you loom, 
 
 Exactly like another; 
 If e'er it be your luck to make 
 The trial, I could dare to stake 
 All Gunter's to a penny cake, 
 
 You'll say at least, " Oh, bother ! " 
 
 So fared the gallant Major R- 
 As, with contemplative cigar, 
 
 He sought his quarters near and far,
 
 AT ALDERSHOT. 
 
 5 
 
 With very ill success ; 
 Although — or p'raps you'll say, because — 
 He'd dined full well, his vision was 
 
 Still rather in a " mess " ! 
 
 The sentries challenged him no end, 
 Although F. O., he answer'd, " Friend." 
 
 — " Ah, here's the door at last ! " 
 So in he rush'd. Whom did he see, 
 
 But newly-married Colonel B , 
 
 A stately form in robe dc nuit, 
 
 At which he stood aghast \ 
 
 -' I think, sir, this is going too far ! " 
 
 "Beg pardon, sir, I'm Major R ." 
 
 " I don't care who the deuce you are, 
 
 Here you can have no right ! " 
 The Major, seeing 'twas in vain, 
 Choked back his efforts to explain, 
 Emerged into the gloom again, 
 
 And never said " Good night ! '
 
 AT ALDERSHOT. 
 
 This thought no doubt then soothed his mind 
 'Tis not unusual to find 
 
 A Colonel in an 'ut; 
 join'd with a wish, not loud but deep, 
 That Colonels would in future keep — 
 Especially when going to sleep — 
 
 Their doors more closely shut !
 
 AT HYTHE. 
 
 I SING of Hythe in heathen days, 
 Ere from the error of their ways 
 Poor Snider, for less pay than praise, 
 
 Our Enfields had converted. 
 A. great invention — that the boon 
 Was not conferr'd a day too soon 
 
 May safely be asserted ! 
 
 There, on the beach, the squads were taught 
 To use the rifle as they ought, 
 Which then they to the " order " brought, 
 And through the muzzle fed it.
 
 8 AT HYTHE. 
 
 But ramrods now we only use 
 To shoot spectators at reviews — 
 An art the sooner we can lose 
 The better for our credit.* 
 
 Though target-practice seem'd a bore 
 To elbows stiff and shoulders sore, 
 Position-drill was something more. 
 
 At first it made you stare : 
 " No movement of 'ead, harm, or heye, 
 Restrain your breathing, don't aim 'igh, 
 Now squeeze the trigger quietly ! 
 
 How simple ! — As you were 1 " 
 
 A Course of Musketry, in sooth, 
 Like true love, never did run smooth : 
 First-class Certificates can't soothe 
 Beyond a certain measure. 
 
 * This was written in 1869, before the Reserve Forces 
 were armed with breech-loaders.
 
 AT II Y 'THE. 
 
 A double o'er the s(h)ingle too, 
 To catch your papers as they flew, 
 Blown by the wind a mile or two, 
 Was anything but pleasure. 
 
 But desagrcmcnts, great and small, 
 Were gladly borne by one and all, 
 For by such means alone we shall 
 
 Keep England's flag unfurl'd. 
 Then long may Hythe, with weapons true, 
 Train Musketry Instructors, who 
 Will make our Army through and through 
 
 The marksmen of the world !
 
 ( io ) 
 
 AT DOVER. 
 
 OURS was a hunting regiment, 
 And lots of sport we had in Kent, 
 A country where, if there's a scent, 
 
 The hounds are safe to kill ; 
 But whether you can see it all, 
 Unless you've a horse that cannot fall, 
 Is doubtful, and the odds are small 
 
 I'd lay against a spill. 
 
 Stone walls are awkward things, I wist, 
 But wire fences are awkwardest, 
 And why offences like these exist, 
 Is a fact I can't explain.
 
 AT DOVER. II 
 
 Your horse can't see, and won't rise at them, 
 hence 
 
 You must sing the lines that, I think, com- 
 mence — 
 
 " / '// hang my coat on the wire fence, 
 And Til go at the jump again ! " 
 
 Now, such a Nimrod was our chief, 
 He never yet, 'tis my belief, 
 
 Refused one leave for hunting ; 
 But, if you wish'd your friends to see, 
 To visit local scenery, 
 Or to attend a pic-nic, he 
 
 Would no doubt send you shunting ! 
 
 The orderly officer, once, they say, 
 Determined not to lose a day, 
 Had order'd round his gallant grey, 
 
 And, to avoid dispute, he 
 Inspected rations in tops and spurs ! 
 As he said to his brother officers, 
 " What else can you do if the Meet occurs 
 
 The day you're down for duty ? "
 
 12 AT DOVER. 
 
 In France, far other is the case — 
 There, sporting Captains join the chase, 
 Blazing with medals and gold lace ; 
 
 Indeed, it has been stated, 
 That Reynard often meets his doom 
 Slain by a warrior's sword thrust home, 
 
 The hounds being- blown or sated ! 
 This tale, however, I am glad, 
 In justice to Mossoo, to add, 
 
 Is not authenticated !
 
 ( 13 ) 
 
 AT WOOLMER. 
 
 A FLYING column's weary feet, 
 Through eighteen miles of dust and heat, 
 Where Surrey's fields and Hampshire meet, 
 
 To Woolmer bent their way. 
 No kite or vulture caught a whiff 
 Of slaughter imminent ; so if 
 Such birds were near, from sullen cliff 
 They watch'd the march of our " magnif- 
 icently stern array." 
 
 We pitch'd our tents in soaking rain : 
 Next day the hill that flank'd the plain 
 Re-echoed loud to many a strain, 
 
 From trumpet, fife, and drum. 
 The votaries of husbandry 
 Flock'd open-mouth'd in crowds to see ; 
 Through all the day, unceasingly, 
 
 The cry was still — They come !
 
 14 AT WOOLMER. 
 
 The ignorance of some of these 
 
 Untravell'd aborigines, [freeze, 
 
 In SHAKSPEARE'S words, "your blood would 
 
 And harrow up your soul." 
 How would the learned FORSTER groan, 
 To hear a stalwart rustic own 
 He'd never heard the name or known, 
 F. M. the Duke of Wellington, 
 
 Or left his native knoll ! 
 
 And still, no doubt, the bumpkins tell, 
 How that an army terrible 
 Invaded once their peaceful dell, 
 
 And camp'd upon the spot ; 
 Then, having spent a summer's day, 
 Like gipsies, disappear'd away, 
 Whither, they know not,— others say 
 
 To distant Aldershot.
 
 ( 15 ) 
 
 AT CAHIR. 
 
 OUR rear division, Number Ten,* 
 Own'd as commander, Captain N., 
 Who, M.F.H, at present, then 
 
 Was Master of the Hawks. 
 How temperate he was you'd know, 
 If to his rooms you chanced to go, 
 And saw his bell-pulls made of So- 
 
 da-water-bottle-Corks. 
 
 Let but the day be fresh and clear, 
 
 Parade being over, never fear, 
 
 With shouts of beaters you would hear 
 
 Each copse and meadow ring. 
 His war-cry was, " Hoo ! ha ! ha ! ha ! " 
 Which told the country near and far, 
 
 The hawk was on the wing. 
 
 * Companies were at that time termed " divisions."
 
 1 6 AT CAHIR. 
 
 Then came the "field" — the mounted few 
 O'er hedge and ditch careering flew, 
 While jolly " subs " on foot broke through- 
 Unlicensed hawkers they ! 
 Were pigeons strong, and good the pace, 
 The field were oft in evil case 
 And distanced, for sometimes the chase 
 Would finish miles away. 
 
 Once a blue-rock of gallant breed, 
 A bird of more than wonted speed, 
 Got clean away — the hawk, thus freed, 
 
 Cared not for voice nor lure, 
 But spread his wings the skies to cross ; 
 Poor N. bewail'd his fav'rite's loss — 
 The best bird on the cadge he was, 
 
 None else of blood so pure. 
 
 For weeks and months, on wall and tree, 
 " LOST " in big letters seen might be,
 
 A T CAHIR. 1 7 
 
 But of his darling's welfare he 
 
 No tidings heard. Poor buffer! 
 He look'd distracted — all could see 
 
 What pangs he had to suffer ; 
 Till in the neighb'ring town he spies 
 His long-lost hawk, with glassy eyes, 
 Staring at him in mute surprise, 
 And o'er the window, " Mr. Vyse, 
 
 Bird-fancier and Stuffer ! "
 
 ( is ) 
 
 AT ALDERSHOT.— NORTH CAMP. 
 
 Who that has lain at Aldershot 
 (And what old Army man has not ?) 
 Says, 46th like, " I've forgot 
 
 Those field days of renown, " 
 When, from his seat in grey Whitehall, 
 With notice scant, or none at all, 
 
 The Royal GEORGE came down ? 
 
 Then officers of every grade, 
 Hut chiefly majors of brigade, 
 
 Went pricking o'er the ground ; 
 Despatches seeing, Colonels guess, 
 " O.H.M.S. — Oh, here's a mess ! 
 They've hardly left us time to dress, 
 
 Go, bid the bugles sound ! "
 
 AT A LDERSHO T. — NOR TH CA MP. 1 9 
 
 Then the Long Valley — What's the word ?- 
 To call it dusty were absurd, 
 
 The richest language fails ; 
 We'll try a negative instead ; 
 There's " none so dusty," may be said, 
 
 'Mong all our English vales. 
 
 But dust might whelm, or rain might fall, 
 By Caesar's Camp or wide canal, 
 
 Forth march'd our corps d'armcc. 
 As 'fore this star of English peers, 
 At Inkerman, the Grenadiers, 
 Or Dover's heights the Volunteers, 
 
 Upon a recent day. 
 
 Though thus undoubtedly a swell, 
 That Cambridge rules the Army well 
 
 All but a few confess ; 
 'Twas he increased the soldier's pay, 
 And, now " the cat " is chased away : 
 Health to the, Royal Duke, and may 
 
 His shadow ne'er grow less ! 
 
 C 2
 
 ( 20 ) 
 
 AT SHORNCLIFFE. 
 
 A Southern camp o'erlooks the sea> 
 And all who know it will agree. 
 For mirth and gay society, 
 
 It well deserves a song. 
 One day the lines were all alive, 
 Watching a regiment arrive, 
 Which to the tune of " Ninety-five " 
 
 Came gallantly along. 
 
 Meanwhile, in lady's bower so rare, 
 Sat one of sixteen Nieces fair, 
 
 On pen and ink intent, 
 Inditing, from her Aunt's dictation, 
 Sweet little notes of invitation 
 
 For the new regiment.
 
 A T SHORNCLIFFE. 2 1 
 
 " And mark, my dear," her Aunt pursued, 
 
 As Army List in hand she stood, 
 
 Our rooms are small, so where's the good 
 
 Of asking nobodies ? 
 This well-read list their titles tells, 
 The baronets and honourables, 
 The lords and other dear young swells — 
 
 We'll send invites to these. 1 ' 
 
 But such the esfit'it of that corps, 
 That when the interval pass'd o'er, 
 The favour'd ones would come no more 
 
 Than those who'd been neglected ; 
 And if, in thinking on their loss, 
 The Nieces look'd a wee bit cross, 
 Their friends remark'd it only was 
 
 What they might have expected !
 
 ( 22 ) 
 
 AT CASHEL. 
 
 NONE but a cold misogynist, 
 As each name in the Army List 
 Will frankly own, could long resist 
 
 The charms of Erin's daughters. 
 Though War's sad losses we deplore, 
 Our mess-tables have suffer'd more 
 By Love's besieging' o'er and o'er, 
 On that too-hospitable shore, 
 
 Across St. George's waters. 
 
 The wit that can each charm enhance, 
 The step unrivall'd in the dance, 
 The haughty and yet melting glance, 
 To you so sweetly partial,
 
 A T CASH EL. 23 
 
 A glamour cast that makes you blest, 
 And heedless of to-morrow's quest, 
 The reprimand, the close arrest, 
 And haply, the court-martial. 
 
 Your host, perchance, is just as bad, 
 Though brave and pure as Galahad, 
 Well skill'd to keep his table glad. 
 
 And thoughtful to amuse you ; 
 But, let his kindness have its course, 
 He'd cut your traces, hide your horse, 
 Detain you by coercion's force, 
 
 Sooner than he should lose you. 
 
 Then at the ball in barracks, where 
 The pretty ones look twice as fair, 
 Half wondering how they could dare 
 
 To cross such naughty portals ! 
 Till, as their hands their partners claim, 
 They find, despite their rakish name, 
 Wild red-coats can be quite as tame 
 
 As ordinary mortals.
 
 24 AT CASHEL. 
 
 Yes ! English husbands, Irish wives — 
 This is the plan which Fate contrives 
 To give some Britons happy lives ; 
 
 But, Benedicts, I warn ye, 
 Lest at the outset you should fail 
 To please, forget not ere you sail — 
 Ere yet the bridal blush be pale — 
 
 To take them to Killarney ! 
 
 ~^S
 
 { 2 5 ) 
 
 AT AYR. 
 
 A CAPTAIN, rather past his work, 
 His duty daily tried to shirk, 
 
 To our extreme vexation ; 
 In wiser ranks, at any rate, 
 He would have been a candidate 
 
 For superannuation. 
 
 If for a " board " detailed was he, 
 Or for " fatigue " or " orderly," 
 
 Or at the butts to shoot, he 
 Searching for substitutes began, 
 Till through our lines the saying ran, 
 u Thompson expects some other man 
 
 Each day zvill do his duty ! "
 
 ( 26 ) 
 
 THE TRAINING. 
 
 "Each bullet has its billet," says 
 A well-used saw of warlike days, 
 And one which cuts in divers ways, 
 
 According as you pull it ; 
 If thus we might the system quell, 
 And do away with it pell-mell, 
 Then, Mr. Cardwell, 't were as well 
 
 Each billet had its bullet ! 
 
 How can we of our wisdom boast, 
 When, for a regimental post, 
 We choose the spot that has the most 
 Pot-houses in the county ?
 
 THE TRAINING. 2J 
 
 No use to " cry the credit down," 
 The landlords know throughout the town 
 Each man will soon have, all his own, 
 At least a pound of bounty. 
 
 No sight can well be more absurd, 
 " Parade in billets " being the word, 
 If thunder's warning has been heard, 
 
 Or clouds seem bent on raining ; 
 In stuffy rooms the squads are found, 
 Bed-posts, not out-posts, rallying round, 
 Up creaking stairs pay-sergeants pound, 
 
 The martyrs of the training. 
 
 If you, to check that grievous sin — 
 Absence from quarters — would begin, 
 No barrack-gates to keep them in, 
 
 Nor sentries to restrain ; 
 Truant recruits, with lawless aims, 
 At tattoo answer to their names, 
 And on their little varied games 
 
 Soon sally forth again.
 
 28 
 
 THE TRAINING. 
 
 But vain, I fear, to make them known ; 
 Our wrongs the country ne'er will own, 
 Whilst on one side our swords are thrown, 
 
 To rust unused, inactive ; 
 But should stern War unsheath the blade, 
 Our rulers then may wish that they'd — 
 E'en with an adverse Budget — made 
 
 The Service more attractive.
 
 ( 2 9 ) 
 
 OUR REGIMENTAL RACES. 
 
 The hunting season barely past, 
 His head each horse was eating fast, 
 A state of things which could not last 
 
 On bonny Yorkshire's plains ; 
 Where, if it's known a horse can go, 
 He'll not be long kept up for show ; 
 But to provide him worthy foe 
 
 Are spared nor purse nor pains. 
 
 This tells at once why now we see 
 A gay and gallant company 
 Assembled round our T. Y. C. 
 
 And crowning the Grand Stand
 
 30 OUR REGIMENTAL RACES. 
 
 While by the flag six hunting cracks, 
 All with their owners on their backs, 
 And each well-known to neighbouring packs, 
 Await the starter's wand. 
 
 They're off. Swift Kamtoplokamos 
 And Grub exert their utmost force 
 To prove which is the better horse : 
 
 While close behind them, rushing, 
 Comes Priam — first at many goals — 
 Who swerves against the hurdle-poles, 
 And on his rider falls and rolls, 
 
 His leg beneath him crushing. 
 
 More hurdles, then they reach the brook ; 
 One, two, three, four have cross'd it. Look! 
 The fifth refuses — 'tis the Duke ; 
 
 And " Murska wins," they cry. 
 Then, pelting hotly up the hill, 
 Murska, the favourite, leading still, 
 With Felstan close upon her heel, 
 
 And ridden splendidly.
 
 OUR REGIMENTAL RACES. 
 
 But " who laughs last he laughs the most," 
 For Murska went wrong side the post, 
 And Felstan won. The shouting host 
 
 Might have been heard at Varna. 
 Other events 'twere long to tell ; 
 But, being all contested well, 
 Their record will be found in Bell, 
 
 Though not Militiana.
 
 ( 32 ) 
 
 THE FIELD DAY. 
 
 (A Souvenir of Aldershot.) 
 
 All ceaselessly along the wold 
 The tide of mimic war had roll'd, 
 And now our scatter'd ranks were told 
 
 To close and form brigades. 
 The Royal Standard floated high 
 O'er England's Monarch dashing by, 
 Surrounded by her chivalry 
 
 And proudly mounted aides. 
 
 The skirmishers in many a chain, 
 Or dotted singly o'er the plain, 
 Now doubled in with might and main, 
 Responsive to the call —
 
 THE FIELD DAY. 
 
 Which bugles sang with loud acclaim — 
 While glittering-belted rifles came, 
 And linesmen with their coats of flame, 
 And bear-skinn'd guardsmen tall. 
 
 The marching-past may now requite 
 Our toils ; for, girt with heroes bright, 
 Our lady beams upon our sight 
 The brightest of them all. 
 
 The "Household" first, the "Heavies" then. 
 The Lancers and Hussars — the men 
 Who charged the guns as one to ten 
 
 On Balaclava's field ; 
 Then the far-famed Artillery, 
 And then the British Infantry, 
 First on the scroll of Victory, 
 
 To none their claims may yield. 
 
 The bands combined our ears astound 
 With splendid bursts of martial sound, 
 As, with a tread that shakes the ground, 
 The gallant troops go by ; 
 D
 
 34 THE FIELD DA V. 
 
 When the saluting post it nears 
 Each regiment its quick-step hears, 
 Familiar as the badge it bears, 
 And wide the colours fly. 
 
 Then gladly to our lines we wend. — 
 Far be the day when field-days end, 
 And War's realities descend 
 
 On peaceful hill and dale ; 
 And long may men behold their Queen, 
 Though by her side no more is seen 
 Her Consort, clad in rifle-green, 
 
 The garb he loved so well.
 
 ( 35 ) 
 
 THE SERGEANT-MAJOR. 
 
 The Colonel's voice dispenses doom 
 To culprits in the orderly-room ; 
 
 But equally or more 
 The Sergeant-major wields a sway 
 Which Sergeants tremble and obey, 
 
 And Corporals adore. 
 
 No rifle chafes his gallant hands, 
 Begirt with sword erect he stands, 
 
 And spurns with martial heel 
 The clanking scabbard, while he shows 
 The crude recruitlings how to close, 
 
 To countermarch and wheel.
 
 $6 THE SERGEAA T-MAJOR. 
 
 In regiments of a thousand men, 
 Though Captains you may count by ten, 
 
 Subalterns by the score, 
 Though stripes and chevrons throng the 
 
 ground, 
 There's but one Sergeant-major found, 
 You'll ne'er discover more. 
 
 Then mark him at the column's head, 
 While " Scots wha hae ivi Wallace bled" 
 
 Clangs forth from trump and drum, 
 And in his firm step you shall see 
 Smartness, which, if the Fates agree, 
 Shall through the ranks reflected be, 
 
 And strike detraction dumb.
 
 ( 57 ) 
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR THE RESERVE. 
 
 We love to thoughts of peace to cling, 
 But must, late wars remembering, 
 Of infant schools not only sing 
 
 But schools of infantry ; 
 Where officers strain every nerve 
 To form themselves, with zeal and verve, 
 The nucleus of the great Reserve 
 
 Which England pants to see. 
 
 Here York and Lancaster are not 
 At daggers drawn ; the canny Scot 
 Seeks only — Bannockburn forgot — 
 The Southron's praise to win ;
 
 $8 THE SCHOOL FOR THE RESERVE. 
 
 With wit as trenchant as their blades 
 Come officers, of varied grades, 
 From where the classic verdure shades 
 The Fields of Lincoln's Inn. 
 
 First mimicking the awkward pace 
 Of the famed bird of Michaelmas, 
 Whose image now usurps the place 
 
 Of partridge and of pheasant, 
 While, — if the Tennysonian Muse 
 This little freedom will excuse, — 
 " The shingle grinding 'neath the" — shoes 
 
 Feels the reverse of pleasant. 
 
 Then, step by step advancing, till 
 As sergeants, privates, what you will, 
 From front to rear all know their drill, 
 
 By slow and sure degrees ; 
 Now quite prepared to do the grand, 
 When next they have to take in hand 
 The levies under their command 
 
 In distant provinces.
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR THE RESERVE. 39 
 
 Then deem it not an idle boast 
 That not alone from coast to coast 
 We soon may jeer at any host 
 
 That may attempt invasion, 
 But give the lie to him who dares 
 To hint that aught as yet impairs 
 Our influence in the world's affairs, — 
 
 Our honour as a nation !
 
 ( 40 ) 
 
 THE AUTUMN OF 1872. 
 
 (A Fragment.) 
 
 COME, list to my new verse 
 About the Manoeuvres, 
 You really might do worse 
 
 Than lend me your ear, 
 Till I sing you how MlCHEL 
 Left Blandford and Critchell, 
 And battles fought which will 
 
 In history appear. 
 
 Due northward his course lay, 
 Where Walpole in force lay, 
 " Take prisoners or slay 
 
 Your foes to a man," — 
 D 2
 
 THE AUTUMN OF 1872. 4 1 
 
 This he said with a smile, he 
 Then marched on the Wiley ; 
 "Bang " went the guns, while the 
 First battle began. 
 
 * x * # * 
 
 Note.— This being all that can be found, it would 
 appear that the bard did not stay to see any more, "relicta 
 non bene parmuld."
 
 ( 42 ) 
 
 A CAPTAIN'S PLEA. 
 
 Who calls the soldier a machine ? — 
 The two are most unlike, I ween, 
 
 For instance, proud I feel, Sir, 
 When, after movement bicn fait, 
 In barracks on Inspection-day, 
 I can regard my men and say, 
 
 " Not one spoke in that wheel, Sir ! "
 
 ( 43 ) 
 
 THE ORDERLY OFFICER'S REPORT. 
 
 Sir, 
 
 I have the honour, as Captain of the day, 
 
 To send you of my duties the following resume. 
 
 I visited the bread and meat at 7.5 A.M., 
 
 And finding both were wholesome I resolved 
 
 to pass the same ; 
 Precisely at 1 1 I the new guard did inspect, 
 And march'd them off: I'm glad to say I found 
 
 them all correct ; 
 I visited the Hospital : the patients, to a man, 
 Said " no complaints," the wards themselves 
 
 were truly spick and span ; 
 I then went round the dinners, the men I certify 
 When ask'd about their rations gave a rational 
 
 reply.
 
 44 THE ORDERL Y OFFICER'S REPOR T. 
 
 At roll-call and at tattoo too reports I took, and 
 
 these 
 Names mention'd in the margin were reported 
 
 absentees. 
 From visits paid by day and night I safely may 
 
 assert 
 The guard and sentries at their posts were sober 
 
 and alert ; 
 I further certify that naught unusual did occur 
 During my tour of duty. 
 
 I've the honour to be, 
 
 Sir.
 
 WAR LYRICS. 
 
 A.D. 1S7O.
 
 "TO ARMS!" 
 
 Oh ! that those bright heroic days, 
 Now living but in minstrel lays, 
 
 Might dawn on us again ! 
 When Glory's sleep should ended be, 
 And shades of ancient knights should see 
 Their long-forgotten Chivalry 
 
 Resume her lofty reign. 
 
 Enter the lists once more, ye knights, 
 Ye who to breast a thousand fights 
 
 Have urged your panting steeds ; 
 Now gird ye quickly for the fray, 
 And bear ye well in the melee, 
 Though love be not the prize to-day, 
 
 Yet bright eyes watch your deeds.
 
 48 "TO ARMS!" 
 
 Time was when not a soul would hear 
 A summons to his heart so dear 
 
 And linger heedless by ; — 
 When on her knight each gentle maid 
 Would bind the scarf her hands had made, 
 And at the word would every blade 
 
 Forth from the scabbard fly. 
 
 But now our Country hears the cries 
 For succour from our late allies 
 
 In apathy and scorn ; 
 While Honour bids us to the fight, 
 E'en Prudence calls us to unite 
 For right against the Despot's might, 
 
 For treaties rudely torn.
 
 4Q ) 
 
 GOOD TASTE (?) 
 
 FRANCE dies amid her wasted lands 
 
 And homesteads in a blaze ; 
 " Spare not," the Battle fiend commands, 
 
 And Germany obeys ; 
 While England stands with folded hands. 
 
 A nd whistles the Marseillaise ! 
 
 Oh ! if with peace we've grown obese, 
 
 And blindly dream it pays 
 Like cowards to accept release 
 
 From bonds of nobler days, — 
 For very shame's sake let us cease 
 
 To whistle the Marseillaise ! 
 E
 
 ( 5o ) 
 
 AN AWKWARD AGE. 
 
 WHEN little pets, in pantalettes, 
 
 Just entering on their teens, 
 In eager way the world survey 
 
 And wonder what it means ; 
 Or when young rakes play ducks and drakes 
 
 With land and heritage, 
 And lack, in sooth, their wisdom tooth, 
 
 They're at — an awkward age. 
 
 When knaves succeed by fraud and greed, 
 
 And telegrams tell lies, 
 When baby-farms cause vague alarms, 
 
 And ironclads capsize ; 
 When statesmen sleep o'er pitfalls deep, 
 
 While Havoc's War-dogs rage, 
 You'll say with me, I think, that we 
 
 Live in — an awkward age.
 
 ( 5i ) 
 
 " THE TIMES" SURRENDER. 
 
 " We might almost say that, except for the reductions 
 of the last year or two, our position would have been 
 satisfactory at the present moment. "■ — Vide "Times'" 
 leader, Sept. 26, 1870. 
 
 From disregard of precedents 
 
 Popedoms and empires end. 
 And to the logic of events 
 
 E'en Thunderers must bend. 
 
 So, in large type and place of state, 
 
 We read this last peccavi, 
 Owning 'twas wrong to decimate 
 
 Our Army and bur Navy. 
 
 Brave troops their flags have had to strike 
 
 Beneath Alsatian limes ; 
 But where have ranks e'er wavered like 
 
 The columns of The Times? 
 E 2
 
 5: 
 
 " THE TIMES'" SURRENDER. 
 
 We gainsay not the will of Ztvg, 
 We take him at his word ; 
 
 The Thunderer hoists a flag of truce, 
 And yields his vanquished sword.
 
 ( 53 ) 
 
 "TO RIFLE, ROB, AND PLUNDER!" 
 
 Two sorts of riflemen the War 
 
 Parades before us neuters : 
 The Franc-tireurs free-shooters are, 
 
 Their foes are all freebooters. 
 
 Oh ! that fair France should wasted be 
 To feed the German swine, — 
 
 This Schinderhannes' progeny, 
 These Robbers of the Rhine !
 
 ( 54 ) 
 
 THORWALDSEN'S LION. 
 
 (A Sonnet.) 
 
 Scooped from the solid cliff, 
 Within a stone's-throw of Lucerne's fair water, 
 
 With a majestic art that aye shall live, 
 Thorwaldsen has immortalized the slaughter 
 
 Of those devoted Swiss who fell for France, 
 Defending the untarnished fleur dc lys ; 
 
 The noble effigy 
 Might, were it possible, be deemed to show 
 An added torture in its sculptured woe ; 
 
 For though no hostile lance 
 Pierces its heart, once more it guards the flag, 
 Draggled and torn like a mere tattered rag, 
 Compelled by neutral duty's stern decree 
 To be its gaoler in captivity. 
 
 Note. — This refers to General Bourbaki's army, cap- 
 tured and disarmed in Switzerland.
 
 ( 55 ) 
 
 GERMAN RESOLVE. 
 
 Tis fit the world should understand 
 Count Bismarck's Entschliessunz, 
 
 All shall belong to Fatherland, 
 Who speak their tftother-tcmgue. 
 
 HARK, BISMARCK! 
 
 No terms can e'er be entertained 
 
 Involving occupation ; 
 The veriest schoolboy knows the end 
 
 Of terms is a — Vacation.
 
 56 ) 
 
 LUTETIA ; 
 
 December, 1870. 
 
 TlS meet your meat should meted be, 
 
 Fair city of the fashions, 
 Since cats you cater eagerly, 
 
 Nor rats shun in your rations.
 
 ( 57 ) 
 
 "MILITIA EST POTIOR." 
 
 Hor., Ltd. i. Sat. i. 
 I. 
 
 While sitting in my study 
 
 With a batch of books from Mudie, 
 
 And indulging in a quiet little nap, nap, nap, 
 I had barely taken for- 
 ty winks, when at the door 
 
 Came a gentle little rap a tap, a tap, tap, tap. 
 
 II. 
 Ere I a word could utter, 
 Into the room there flutter 
 Three — what a painter cherubim would call, call, 
 call. 
 I offered each a chair, 
 But they said " No, thank you, sare, 
 Besides, we haven't got the wherewithal, all, all."
 
 58 "militia est potior:" 
 
 III. 
 
 Then they say, " We're England's guard- 
 ian angels, whom the bard 
 Saw sitting up aloft to watch poor Jack, Jack, 
 Jack ; 
 And we've come to flap the ears 
 Of your doting Ministers, 
 And make them steer on quite another tack, 
 tack, tack. 
 
 iv. 
 
 " There are stirring times at hand, 
 
 And your rulers we command 
 To embody the Militia at once, once, once. 
 
 For that soldiers will be nil 
 
 Unless they've time to drill 
 Must surely be apparent to a dunce, dunce, dunce. 
 
 V. 
 " 'Militia est potior" 
 Says Horace, and so boshy are
 
 "MILITIA EST POTIOR." 59 
 
 The plans that some empyrics would propose, 
 pose, pose, 
 That it makes us angels , weep 
 While watch and ward we keep. 
 
 To see the nation led so by the nose, nose, nose. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Then straight away they flew, 
 
 And <jraduallv I knew 
 The visionary nature of their chat, chat, chat ; 
 
 For the tapping at the door 
 
 Had been really nothing more 
 Than the tail of Ponto dreaming on the mat, 
 mat, mat.
 
 ( 6o ) 
 
 ABSIT OMEN! 
 
 There was an old party called Bull, 
 Whose coffers were weighty and full, 
 But to aid their defence, 
 He'd not shell out his pence, 
 Nor give to his purse-strings one pull. 
 
 This was all very well, till one day 
 He was docking some items of pay, 
 When a huge foreign force 
 Came pounce on his shores 
 And took all Bull's treasures away !
 
 MISCELLANEA.
 
 " I'M A SHOT." 
 
 I'M a shot, I'm a shot, I'm my Company's pride, 
 The range is my home, and my rifle's my bride; 
 Up, up with the flag, let it wave o'er the plain. 
 I've hit the bull's-eye, and I'll hit it again. 
 
 I fear not the sergeant, I heed not the cells, 
 I've a ball in my pouch on the target that tells, 
 And ne'er as a slave, but a soldier, I'll kneel, 
 With a most inconvenient seat on my heel. 
 
 I'm a shot, &c.
 
 ( 64 ) 
 
 VALENTINE. 
 
 The glad Spring comes, but not to rrie 
 
 Its influence sweet imparting. 
 E'en now, with effort I repress 
 
 The bitter tears from starting. 
 
 The zephyr's breath seems icy cold, 
 
 The day appears benighted, 
 To the sad heart of one who loves — 
 
 Whose love is unrequited. 
 
 Oh ! surely man was never born 
 
 Such anguish to inherit, — 
 To feel his heart weighed down with scorn, 
 
 And not a hope to cheer it. 
 
 For sterner joys naught cares the soul 
 When love's soft fetters fold it. 
 
 One smile from thee were worth the whole 
 Then, dearest, why withhold it ?
 
 ( 65 ) 
 
 "AND" & "ET." 
 
 Ox construing I take my stand, — 
 
 If wrong, correct me, pray ; 
 You change your climate with your land, 
 
 But not your mind, they say ; 
 Thus England has its gross gourm-and, 
 
 The French their nice goxyrm-et 
 
 CLUB LAW. 
 
 When Uncle Ned had no wool on his head, 
 No Club would admit him — but why ? 
 
 Simply because the old gentleman was 
 Black-bald to begin with. Oh, fie !
 
 { 66 ) 
 
 VERDI-GRIS(I). 
 
 A Composer and a singer — the last must lose 
 
 an eye — 
 Both one and other, in their time, of great 
 
 celebrity. 
 (Imperial Caesar o'er again!) If you their names 
 
 should join, 
 They'll serve to show the rust which eats into a 
 
 copper coin. 
 
 A VACATION COUPLET. 
 
 WHERE should a baker spend his holiday ? 
 I ask, and Echo answers — Alum Bay.
 
 ( 6/ 
 
 ACROSTICS FOR POSTAL CARDS. 
 
 Let us calm each worldly feeling ; — 
 Me it pleaseth, when the crowd 
 PRESS beneath the Minster ceiling, 
 My poor voice to raise aloud, 
 Lips of thankfulness to sever 
 To high Heaven, while we cry, 
 " THINE our hearts are now and ever, 
 Love and bless us, or we die." 
 
 I cannot love you if I would ; 
 Love such as mine, not understood. 
 You would not prize, nor might we know 
 Sweet interchange of joy and woe, 
 With that affection, tried and proved, 
 My soul would seek in one it loved. 
 WHOLE undivided love for me, 
 Heart linked to heart by truest sympathy ! 
 
 F 2
 
 ( 6S ) 
 
 SYMPATHY. 
 
 TlS night ; the waves run mountains high, 
 
 And drench the toiling crew ; 
 I think of home, I heave a sigh, 
 
 The vessel — she heaves to ! 
 
 BY AN OLD FOGEY. 
 
 " Quantum mutatus ab Mo ! " 
 I say each night to my pillow. 
 
 " Illo " here means 
 
 A boy in his teens, 
 In turn-down collars and velveteens, 
 What a curly-haired darling I used to be ! 
 
 But now, you're aware, 
 
 I've grown through my hair, 
 
 And my face is furrowed with lines of care, 
 And each peeper is like a boiled gooseberry.
 
 C 69 ) 
 
 AN ILLUSION. 
 
 If those in search of a supper 
 
 Will scan the shop windows with care, 
 And an appetite fit for a trooper, 
 
 They'll find the following fare : 
 In Fleet-street — Partridge and Cooper ; 
 
 In Oxford -street — Burton and Hare ! 
 
 CHARADE {Honey-moon). 
 
 My first on the palate may pall, 
 And the beams of my second may fall 
 
 So coldly as true hearts to sever ; 
 But my wJiole, dearest Loo, 
 If I share it with you, 
 
 Will shed its warm influence ever.
 
 ( jo ) 
 
 CHARADE {Wo-man). 
 
 My first is what my second gets 
 When he my total's slave is ! 
 
 The exception to the rule is, let's 
 Confess, a rara avis. 
 
 ECHOES. 
 
 When want stalks unheeded, what fiend shuts 
 
 your eye ? 
 In accents reproachful comes Echo's reply, 
 
 " Luxur-j/, luxur-j." 
 
 What means are the best, then, to open your 
 
 eye ? 
 Back comes the refrain on the wings of a sigh, 
 
 " Penur-jF, Penur-j."
 
 ( 7i ) 
 
 DEFINITION. 
 
 Pray, what is a widow ? 
 A women that's rid o' 
 
 Her husband, and puts on a cap. 
 And what is a widower ? 
 One that is rid o' her — 
 
 Sometimes a fortunate chap. 
 
 A DISTINCTION WITH A 
 DIFFERENCE. 
 
 The Laureate speaks of " airy navies 
 Grappling in the central blue ; " 
 
 'Tis true — 
 This may be in future 
 But, in our own days, hairy navvies, 
 Grappling on the village green, 
 
 I've seen, 
 And that not far from Truro.
 
 ( 72 ) 
 
 BY AN OLD BACHELOR. 
 
 When to my arms a parent gives 
 A babe she deems the best that lives- 
 
 A little fright, it may be, — 
 Compelled to say a word of praise, 
 I murmur, as I fondly gaze, 
 " Well, I've seen many in my days, 
 
 But this one IS — a baby ! " 
 
 THE TWO VOICES. 
 
 She. " I am monarch of all I survey," 
 
 When I look in the glass I can say ; 
 Then why such a treasure divine 
 To the hands of another resign ? 
 
 He. But to give and receive is our duty, 
 So if love you obtain for your beauty, 
 See yourself in these eyes, and still say, 
 " I am monarch of all I survey.' - '
 
 ( 73 ) 
 
 A RATIONAL INFERENCE. 
 
 Now if " amantium ires amoris integratio" 
 Then surely, nihil pertinet quodcunque ego facia ; 
 For as a bill returned with costs by Nathan 
 
 Moss renewed is, 
 So a free pardon till next time the upshot of 
 
 our feud is. 
 Then think not Justice Hannen will e'er our 
 
 lives dissever, 
 For when we've fought we'll kiss again, just as 
 
 good friends as ever. 
 
 " TWO OF A TRADE, &c." 
 
 Ye hard-worked tailors and hardy sailors, 
 Why don't ye better agree, men? — 
 
 'Twixt cutlass and goose there is little to choose, 
 For ye both are equally scam-men.
 
 ( 74 ) 
 
 MIND v. MATTER. 
 
 i. 
 
 "ALquam memento" quoth the bard 
 Of Tivoli, " rebus in ard- 
 tiis servare me?item." 
 If hardness and ill-fortune try 
 Your mind's fair level to destroy, 
 
 Says he, you must prevent 'em. 
 
 i 
 
 \ 
 
 II. 
 
 But now, when ice and snow combine 
 To overthrow these legs of mine, 
 
 I can't be so particular 
 About the level of my mind ; 
 Sufficient is the task, I find, 
 
 To keep my perpendicular.
 
 ( 75 ) 
 
 LAND AND WATER. 
 
 Who, in the days of axe and brand, 
 
 Invaded once the Holy Land, 
 
 To wrest it from the Paynim's hand ; 
 
 We praise those gallant raiders. 
 But equal honour they must have, — 
 Our sturdy oarsmen, staunch and brave, — 
 Who urge the lifeboat o'er the wave, 
 
 For they, too, are crews-aiders. 
 
 PAT v. SAMBO. 
 
 I F a powerful term you choose to employ, 
 You'll call your friend Paddy a "broth of a boy ; 
 
 But he's quite cut out by the other : 
 For Sambo or Ouash, or whatever's his name, 
 Can establish a far superior claim, 
 
 For he's both a " man and a brother / "
 
 ( 76 ) 
 
 MORAL CRABS. 
 
 Many " live that each to-morrow 
 
 Finds them farther than to-day ; " 
 But, as they confess with sorrow, 
 Farther back. Ccst bien vrai. 
 
 FROM ENSIGN BLANK, OF THE — th. 
 
 Sweet are the tints that autumn sheds 
 On leaves that fall about our heads 
 
 When seated in the grove ; 
 But rosier hued, and sweeter far, 
 Autumnal " leaves of absence " are 
 
 To subalterns in love.
 
 ( 77 ) 
 
 JANUARY iith. 
 
 Hilary Term ! 
 
 There is surely a germ 
 Of a sly sort of satire here to be seen. 
 
 How grimly ironical, 
 
 " Lucits a uon "-ical ! 
 Hilarity's rare among suitors, I ween. 
 
 FORTUNA FORTES ADJUVAT. 
 
 He lives to fight another day 
 Who left his friends and ran : 
 
 Yet, since he " saved his bacon," they 
 Owned him the rasher man.
 
 ( 78 ) 
 
 TO VOCALISTS. 
 
 If you to a lady went, 
 
 Humbly asking her to play 
 
 To your song accompaniment, 
 This is what you ought to say — 
 
 No circumlocution — ah ! no — 
 
 Bow, and murmur what you want 
 
 " Will you me accompiano ? " 
 Compound, brief, and elegant. 
 
 REFLECTION AT THE AMPHI- 
 THEATRE. 
 
 "Nos salutant morituri." 
 
 Death's next victim may be you or I.
 
 ( 79 ) 
 
 ANOTHER LIBEL. 
 
 Since ribston pippin 
 Caught Eve trippin', 
 All evils which have come to pass 
 Lie at the door of womankind. 
 This bitter truth is well defined 
 When mourners cry, " A lass ! A lass ! " 
 
 A NATION OF STATESMEN. 
 
 The key to our success behold ! 
 If wallowing in heaps of gold, 
 
 Or living on the rates, men 
 Here feed on self-complacency. 
 So, bound in bonds of bunkum, we 
 
 Are all United States-wen !
 
 ( So ) 
 
 LINES TO A WELSHER. 
 
 Lit era scripta manet — 
 
 A fact you are prone to forget ; 
 When the race is won, 
 From the stand come down, 
 
 And cheerfully pay up your bet. 
 
 SEASONABLE PASTIME. 
 
 'Mid a teazing wheezing we sing, 
 Making unexpected rests, 
 
 Sneezing we our pleasing glee sing, 
 Heedless of disgusted guests !
 
 ( Si ) 
 
 DEFINITION. 
 
 Now what is a matron ? — 
 
 A wife out of date run, 
 But buxom and fond of a beau ; 
 
 While Paterfamilias 
 
 Oft is a silly ass, 
 Letting her carry on so. 
 
 FOREWARNED IS FOREARMED. 
 
 SHOULD you be ask'd by some ill-manner' d 
 
 bear, 
 Who in their talk seek witlings to entangle, 
 Why is a prison quarrel like a square ? — 
 The answer is — 'cause each is a qaad-zvratigle.
 
 ( 82 ) 
 
 A SUGGESTION. 
 
 Oh ! Charley and Herbert,* 
 If Loyalty's curb hurt, 
 Your remedy's not far to seek ; 
 Send a couple of pence 
 To your con-sti-tu-ents, 
 Say that each renegade his allegiance repents, 
 Which he svvare to the Monarch each coin 
 represents, 
 And I'll warrant you free in a week. 
 
 ON PARADE. 
 
 The word of command most readily obey'd is, 
 " Officers fall out, and entertain the ladies." 
 
 * Sir C s D e, and Hon. A. H 1.
 
 ( 33 ) 
 
 FROM THE SEALING-WAX OFFICE. 
 
 JUDGED by the test employ 'd of yore, 
 
 Condemn'd I fear I'll be, 
 I play the Scribe from ten till four, 
 And then the Pharisee (the fair I see). 
 
 ( These lines arc from a dandy clerk. 
 Who in the season does his park.) 
 
 PHONETIC READING FROM OVID. 
 
 Habet ina cast r a Cupido — 
 
 Have a bet on the Chester Cup — I do. 
 
 G2
 
 ( 3 4 ) 
 
 EPIGRAM. 
 
 All singers have one fault, at least 
 All those that I have seen ; 
 
 Unasked, they never will desist, 
 When asked, they'll ne'er begin. 
 
 CHARADE (Surf-ace). 
 
 When through my first they went aground, 
 Within my next of being drown'd 
 
 Were all the hapless crew ; 
 While o'er my total near and far 
 Floated sail, cargo, mast, and spar, 
 
 So fierce the tempest blew.
 
 ( 3 5 \ 
 
 THE RULE OF THREE— IN VERSE. 
 
 i. 
 
 The problem to be tried is 
 Word-factors to arrange ; 
 
 A sample see of my dis- 
 covery so strange, — 
 
 As Vanity to Pride is, 
 So Spite is to — Revenge. 
 
 II. 
 You say a wall is falling, 
 
 And ask what's to be done ? 
 The crisis is appalling, 
 
 I answer — prop or shun (Proportion) 
 
 HARK] 
 
 WHAT is the gambler's Paradise ? 
 Echo responds, — a pair-o'-dice.
 
 ( 36 ) 
 
 DEFINITION. 
 
 WHAT is a spinster? — 
 One who's evinced her 
 
 Contempt for the masculine sex. 
 And what is a bachelor ? 
 Student of latch-key law ; 
 
 Really his comfort is " x." 
 
 FROM THE CANTEEN. 
 
 If of the soldier's liquor-money 
 The rationale you would hear, — 
 
 You've named it. 'Tis his ration ale,- 
 In other words, his dinner beer.
 
 ( S; ) 
 
 BY MY HAIRDRESSER. 
 
 He benefits his kind, I know, 
 
 And adds to Nature's store, 
 Who makes two blades of grass to grow 
 
 Where one did grow before ; 
 But greater genius out-and-out 
 
 That artist should be call'd. 
 Who causes crops of hair to sprout 
 
 On heads that once were bald. 
 
 "TWIXT CUP AND LIP. 
 
 In dewy meads there's many a slip, 
 'Twixt butter-r#/> and sweet cows-lip.
 
 ( S3 ) 
 
 Q. E. D 
 
 You ask what instrument's the best 
 To play " Adeste Fideles " ? 
 
 I say, if sound be any test, 
 Doubtless a dusty fiddle is. 
 
 MR. L E, (from Australia,) re THE 
 
 INCOME TAX. 
 
 If the world has five quarters, why should not 
 the year, too ? — 
 Though I'm told it the public bewilders ; 
 That the globe has a fifth is a fact I can swear 
 to, 
 And so can my friend, Mr. C   s !
 
 ( 8 9 ) 
 
 A SONG OF THREE AND SIXPENCE. 
 
 "Do me, do me" says the Dome of Saint Paul's, 
 
 But little our visitors know, 
 How terribly they'll get done as well, 
 
 If up to that Dome they go. 
 
 THE NEW SPEAKER. 
 
 The 'cuteness of the rapier, and the temper of 
 the foil, 
 
 The keenness of the scimitar to cut the Gordian 
 toil, 
 
 The strength that trusty broadsword or clay- 
 more gives the hand, 
 
 May these be all united in our newly-chosen 
 Brand.
 
 ( 90 ) 
 
 THE LOVE-SICK WINDOW. 
 
 Chloe her lattice loves to fill — 
 Where suburbs end in lanes— 
 
 With mignonette and daffodil, 
 And woodbine, which she trains. 
 
 Ah ! well — like me, her window' s-ill 
 Looks green and full of panes. 
 
 AT CHURCH. 
 
 When a well-known extortioner we view, 
 Sleek and demure within his cushion'd pew ; 
 Tis then we may the proverb understand — 
 Many a clean glove hides a dirty hand.
 
 ( 9i ) 
 
 CHARADE {Pun-gent). 
 
 My firs -fs a breach of social laws, 
 My ncxfs the snob who did it, 
 
 My zi'/io/c the avenging mustard was, 
 Which seized his tongue and bit it. 
 
 A HEALTH TO THE PRIMATE. 
 
 Long may the union 'twixt Church and Tait, 
 Remain unsever'd by the hand of fate ! 
 
 IMPECUNIOUS. 
 
 What time my purse of cash is bare, 
 Such caution it engenders, 
 
 I don't go too far East, for there 
 I'm sure to meet Mi-lc-ndcrs.
 
 ( 92 ) 
 
 SONG OF THE SEATED. 
 
 (1869). 
 
 I'm a member, I'm a member, 
 
 Though my foes did prophesy, 
 When return'd in last December, 
 
 I'd be out before July. 
 Then the voters, then the voters, 
 
 Were bribed as bribed could be, 
 But luckily, my bloaters, 
 It iv as lit done by me. 
 
 I'm a member, &c. 
 
 I was merry, I was merry, 
 
 When the Judge revising came, 
 And in no sort of a hurry 
 
 Upset their little game. 
 Now I'm seated, now I'm seated, 
 
 Beyond the reach of ills, 
 The petition is defeated — 
 
 Hurrah for Justice WlLLES ! 
 
 I'm a member, &c.
 
 < 93 ) 
 
 A NEW VERSE. 
 
 Join in the chor-i-us, 
 Whig as well Tory as, 
 Would she were more wi' us, 
 
 God Save the Oueen ! 
 
 CHARADE (Stud-iou"s). 
 
 At Cambridge I my first did sport, 
 ( Newmarket's handy, very,) 
 
 My next are the results it wrought, 
 Quce longitm numerare ; 
 
 If I my total more had been, 
 
 I should not now be short of tin ! 
 
 HOOD MODERNIZED. 
 
 Take her up tenderly, lift her with care — 
 None knows how dearly she paid for her hair
 
 ( 94 ) 
 
 VALENTINE. 
 
 'TWAS when the light of the stars was quench'd 
 
 By Aurora's brighter ray, 
 And the tiny flowers had just begun 
 
 Their delicate tints to display, 
 That Nature rose from her mossy bed, 
 And with anxious haste to her storehouse sped. 
 
 A spacious cave of adamant 
 
 Received the Parent-Queen, 
 When hark ! a loud resounding cry, — 
 'Twas one of sorrow, not of joy, — 
 
 Burst from the realms unseen. 
 Her fears were true, for, sad to say, 
 Many a charm had been filch'd away.
 
 VALENTINE. 95 
 
 Now, would you know what Nature miss'd 
 From her goodly store of charms: 
 
 Then hearken ; there lack'd two beautiful feet 
 And a pair of rounded arms : 
 
 Nor were these all, for had they been, 
 
 Her sorrow had been less, I ween. 
 
 But a graceful neck, and auburn hair, 
 And hands as alabaster fair, 
 
 They, too, alas ! were gone ; 
 And a pair of dark and sparkling eyes, 
 Such as the Faery Queen might prize 
 
 To gaze on Oberon ; 
 And a mouth she had moulded not long ago, 
 Shaped after the model of Cupid's bow. 
 
 {Chorus, after sEschylus:) 
 
 Now judge if Nature had right to complain 
 Of the many years she had toil'd in vain, 
 And think how happy the mortal must be 
 Who possesses the fruits of this burglar)-.
 
 96 VALENTINE. 
 
 She summon'd Cupid, hovering near, 
 
 That lover of frolic and mirth, 
 And she bade him string his golden bow 
 
 And speedily fly to earth : 
 If haply he might have luck to find 
 The stolen beauties among mankind. 
 
 Cupid, delighted, outstretch'd his wings 
 
 To seek the stolen spoil, 
 But, it must be own'd, did not expect, 
 
 In the search to have much toil ; 
 For the urchin knew full well that she 
 Who possess'd the charms must unrivalled be. 
 
 Many a palace he hurried by, 
 
 Though many a beauty might in them lie, 
 
 And straight to a well-known spot did fly, 
 
 All else behind him leaving ; 
 Ambrosial odours filled the air, 
 For lovely Thisbe found he there, 
 Entwining lilies in her hair, 
 
 And myrtle garlands weaving ;
 
 VALEXTIXE. 97 
 
 A lovely rosebud she, scarce blown, 
 Ah ! well might Cupid proudly own, 
 That ne'er before such beauty shone — 
 He quite forgot the thieving ! 
 
 Of all the maids, on whom angels' eyes 
 Have ever gazed from the starry skies, 
 
 She was the Prima Donna. 
 And the charge she found 'twas vain to deny 
 For she was the culprit most evidently, 
 
 The goods being found upon her! 
 
 -^^sa^ 
 
 m 
 
 H
 
 ( 93 ) 
 
 CHARADE. 
 
 HERE'S a charade on "off-ice? consider'd rather 
 
 fine, 
 Composed by men on duty at the frozen Serpen- 
 tine : 
 
 Our total is our last to watch, 
 
 And keep the folks my first, 
 Or fish them out with due despatch, 
 If they should get immersed. 
 
 WHY, INDEED ? 
 
 THE bird that pours its captive strains 
 
 Is rightly called canary ; 
 The loft, then, which your corn contains, 
 
 Why is it not granary ?
 
 ( 99 ) 
 
 CONFESSIONS. 
 
 When young in years and strange to vice, 
 
 I pined for pretty faces, 
 Then rosy cheeks and big round eyes, 
 
 Form'd of my dreams the basis. 
 
 In after years, when more mature, 
 I scann'd the darlings' figures, 
 
 And all complexions could endure, 
 So they fell short of niggers. 
 
 But now, grown philosophical, 
 
 I con both forms and features, 
 
 Nor less, though ne'er in love I fall, 
 Adore I the dear creatures. 
 
 Since dark, and fair, and stout, and thin, 
 
 I equally desire all, 
 They laugh and call me a marine, 
 A land and water go-between, 
 
 A General Admlr-al ! 
 
 H 2
 
 ( ioo ) 
 
 A FRAGMENT. 
 
 I HALTED in my walk, and stood at gaze, 
 One of a multitude who stay'd to stare 
 At a long line of mourning carriages 
 And hearse with carven panels rich and rare. 
 Its four black horses with their nodding plumes, 
 Guarded by mutes and by attendant grooms, 
 Long-tail'd and sleek, had fatten'd well on woe, 
 With manes as dusk as "Manes" from below, 
 Thus rolls, methought, the tide of Life along, 
 Another wave breaks on the eternal shore ! 
 This, haply, was a man renown'd in song, 
 Whose name his country heard but to adore ; 
 Or was it one of England's golden youth, 
 Whom Fate forbids his fortune to enjoy, 
 Tiger-like, tearing with untimely tooth 
 Life, wealth, and titles from the hapless boy ?
 
 A FRAGMENT. 101 
 
 And seeking knowledge, as my custom is, 
 I ask'd a mute " Whose funeral is this ? ' 
 In pompous tones that functionary said, 
 With scarce a bend of his sepulchral head, 
 " The Allied Funeral Companies, Limited ! " 
 
 THE TOWER, Oct. 17TH, 187 1 . 
 
 An Acrostic. 
 
 B ENExYTH the gloomy fortress which he ruled, 
 
 U nder such shrine our hero fitly sleeps ; 
 
 R estin^ like him in whose wars he was 
 
 school'd — 
 G reat Bonaparte — near the river's deeps. 
 O h ! noble heart, when aiding in their flight 
 Y oung Prince and Empress o'er the stormy sea, 
 N ever did chivalry own fairer knight ! 
 E ngland may well weep long for loss of such 
 
 as he.
 
 ( 102 ) 
 
 RHYME FOR "SILVER. 7 
 
 FOR "Silver" a rhyme 
 Was made in no time 
 
 By this 'coon : 
 Take nitrate of silver, 
 And you will be ill ver- 
 
 -y soon. 
 
 A FRUITFUL THEME. 
 
 When Paris gave to Venus 
 The prize of the most fair, 
 
 Say, Muse, which fruit in causing 
 Troy's woes had largest share ? 
 
 Was it his golden apple, 
 Or Sparta's gilty pearf
 
 ( 103 ) 
 
 A PLEA FOR THE GARDEN - 
 
 I AM not quite a reprobate — 
 Still less am I a greenhorn,— 
 
 And yet, I think, to close its gate 
 Is rather hard on Cremorne. 
 
 Though haply boyhood's days are o'er, 
 Past freaks were sweet to dream on ; 
 
 Old faces met you by the score 
 Beneath the lamps at Cremorne. 
 
 What other spot the palm could win 
 For sweet meringues with cream on,— 
 
 For fowl and lobster salad, in 
 The supper-room in Cremorne ? 
 
 And 'tis the truth that, in my youth, 
 Full often did I see Morn — 
 
 With guiltless eyes — light up the skies. 
 While driving home from Cremorne.
 
 ( lOA- ) 
 
 ON SEEING THE DESIGN FOR THE 
 NEW LAW COURTS. 
 
 •'TWERE long to tell all we miss 
 In frowning o'er this page, 
 
 The plan a patchwork dream is: 
 Relent, ye statesinen sage, 
 
 Make not our Courts of Themis 
 The w/j-take of the age. 
 
 EPIGRAM, 
 
 Matilda can't from Jane exist asunder, 
 
 This is a thing which must perforce bewilder, 
 
 'Tis only equalled by another wonder, 
 
 Which is — how Jane can tolerate Matilda \
 
 ( io5 ) 
 
 EPIGRAM. 
 
 THE world is full of fools, and if 
 You'd ne'er behold an ass, 
 
 All by yourself you'll have to live 
 And — break your looking-glass ! 
 
 RECIPE BY A POETICAL CHAR- 
 WOMAN. 
 
 IF you should paint your sleeve, there ain't 
 Nothing so fine as turpentine ; 
 
 Water's no good, not though you should 
 Go down and drain the Serpentine.
 
 ( i o6 ) 
 
 TO MY DENTIST. 
 
 I ALWAYS think my Dentist would 
 If mounted, prove a rider good ; 
 For he is daily wont to show 
 His skill with screws in rotten-row ! 
 
 THE FORTY-SECOND. 
 
 OUR regiments in fight or storm 
 True fortitude discover ; 
 
 But one is in such splendid form, 
 (We met them once at Dover), 
 
 That when they don their uniform 
 They're forty-twd d all over !
 
 ( 107 ) 
 
 INTERCEPTED POSTAL CARDS. 
 
 Supposed by the writers to be quite unintelligible. 
 
 (The italics are mine.) 
 
 No. I. 
 May and June have charms of their own, 
 / mutter aloud, when the wintry winds 
 Come and pierce me through muscle and bone, 
 To button my " Ulster " it me reminds. 
 " See" I say, as I reach my home, 
 " Yon blinding sleet, you're in dreadful form, 
 To-night I leave you to those who roam, 
 Love to be hardy and breast the storm." 
 
 No. 2. The Reply. 
 
 '• Come, shopman," I cry, "your tariff's too high ; 
 At thirteen and six I much better could buy, 
 Nine shillings are plenty for socks, such as 
 
 they 're,- —   
 Dear at the price, too, they'd be, I declare."
 
 1 08 1X7 ER CEPTED EOS TAL CA RDS. 
 
 I, not finding this quite as good as a play, 
 A m bound to confess that, as neither gave way, 
 All rigidly firm as a couple of rocks, 
 Alone he was left to contemplate his socks. 
 
 HIGH CHURCH COUPLET. 
 
 In spite of vetoes vague and mystic, 
 To Ritualistic ritual I stick. 

 
 ( 109 ) 
 
 AN ECLOGUE. 
 
 i. 
 
 Says Army to Navy, 
 
 As well be a slavey 
 As now hold commission, I ween ; 
 
 Says Navy to Army, 
 
 Yes, truly her palmy 
 Days each sister service has seen. 
 
 II. 
 Says Army — sans purchase 
 We're left in the lurch as 
 
 Completely as toads in a hole ; 
 
 Just think how 'twill vex one 
 To feel one's selection 
 
 Is under friend Cardwell's control.
 
 IIO AX ECLOGUE. 
 
 III. 
 Says Navy — the worst is, 
 You can't count on justice, 
 
 Suppose a mishap to occur ; 
 
 The swells must be shielded, 
 So all that your zeal did 
 
 Vain sympathy only will stir. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Says Army — some millions 
 
 Of purblind civilians, 
 In peace-time don't scruple to say, 
 
 From the duke to the drummer — 
 
 Like chimneys in summer, — 
 Soldiers are but a useless display. 
 
 V. 
 
 Says Navy to Army — 
 
 I vow it would charm me 
 To have a good rattling war ; 
 
 Says Army to Navy — 
 
 My boy, I belave ye, 
 And they both liquored up at the bar.
 
 ( III ) 
 
 A FRAGMENT. 
 
 High on a rock, o'er the deep valley frowning - , 
 
 Rearing its head o'er the mountains afar, 
 Seeming but part of the crag it was crowning, 
 Stood the proud fortress of Graf Uam Var. 
 
 None but a chosen few 
 
 Path to its portals knew, 
 Hewn out of granite from apex to base ; 
 
 Such the stern fastness where, 
 
 Couch'd in his tiger's lair, 
 Slumber'd grim Ulric, the last of his race. 
 
 Slumber'd, indeed, but, with restless upheavings, 
 Labour'd his breast like a storm-ridden sea, 
 
 Naught could the thought of his famous 
 achievings 
 Lay the fell demon none witness'd but he !
 
 112 
 
 A FRAG 31 EXT. 
 
 Sons he had rear'd and taught 
 
 'Gainst him, their Sire, had fought, 
 Red from their slaughter his broadsword he 
 sees ; 
 
 Priest, serf, and seneschal, 
 
 Vassal and henchman tall, 
 Wait but his last breath his castle to seize. 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 *
 
 ( H3 ) 
 
 SPRING. 
 
 Who's this fair maid, all the landscape adorning, 
 
 Sweet is her beauteous form to behold, 
 Her face, lightly tinged with the bloom of the 
 morning, 
 Shineth with lustre far brighter than gold. 
 Flaxen her tresses flow 
 Over a neck of snow, 
 Soft as the down on the butterfly's wing, 
 'Xeath her arch'd eyebrows too 
 Gleam her soft eyes of blue ; 
 Name we the maiden; — Tis beautiful Spring! 
 
 Ah ! now we name her, a thousand will claim 
 her, 
 One they have sigh'd for for many a day, 
 Hearts that once wild were, and since have grown 
 tamer, 
 Bound as in childhood beneath her glad sway ; 
 
 I
 
 I [4 SPRING. 
 
 But to the young she seems, 
 
 Gilding their boyish dreams, 
 Pledge of a cloudless hereafter to bring, 
 
 " Rapture like this," they say, 
 
 " Never can fade away, 
 Ours is an endlessly beautiful Spring ! " 
 
 Haste then to meet her, with open arms greet 
 her, 
 Hers are the buds, and the blossoming leaves, 
 Arrogant Summer in fruits may defeat her, 
 And Autumn triumphantly point to his 
 sheaves, 
 
 But when the wintry blast, 
 Frosty and chill, is past, 
 Earth's hundred voices will joyfully sing, 
 " Chief of the seasons four, 
 Welcome as heretofore, 
 Welcome, thrice welcome, most beautiful 
 Spring ! "
 
 ( H5 ) 
 
 FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 Let those who never felt its spell 
 
 Refuse to join our chorus ; 
 But some there are who know full well 
 
 The magic word before us. 
 
 Say, schoolboy, say, what charms to-day, 
 And gilds the approaching morrow, — 
 
 What angel finger points the way, 
 And soothes scholastic sorrow ; 
 
 That with the touch of sympathy 
 Speeds on the flagging hours : 
 
 'Tis gentle Friendship standeth by 
 And strews thy path with flowers. 
 I 2
 
 Il6 FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 And is that name forgotten when 
 The world's clouds darken o'er us, 
 
 When boyhood's years their flight have ta'en, 
 Which naught can now restore us ? 
 
 No ! then 'tis sweet some heart to meet, 
 
 And its soft influence own, 
 That bids you prove a brother's love 
 
 Nor seek to mourn alone. 
 
 No one is so accurst by Fate, 
 
 So utterly forsaken, 
 But some one, if he bring a plate, 
 
 Will give him beans and bacon. 
 
 So, as at first I said we would, 
 
 Cheer loudly, near and far — 
 And take the time from me, my good 
 
 Friends — hip, hip, hip — hurrah !
 
 ( H7 ) 
 
 EXODUS. 
 
 (For translation into Latin Hexameters. — ioo lines.) 
 
 Oh ! sacred Muse, that, with the touch of Truth 
 Inspired the Sage to sing the birth and youth 
 Of God's Creation, and to draw the veil 
 That first enshrouded the unrivall'd tale, 
 That told of our first parents' hapless crime, 
 Fraught with result of woe to endless time. 
 Thou, that with heavenly breath didst keep alive 
 The flame that glow'd within his volumes five, 
 Pardon the wild presumption that would dare 
 To reproduce a page so rich, so rare, 
 As that which speaks in words well worth their 
 
 fame, 
 Of the great time when out of bondage came 
 God's people Israel ; and if there remain 
 One spark of fire to flash athwart the brain, 
 Grant it to him who, trusting, undismay'd, 
 In humble faith thus seeks thy potent aid.
 
 Il8 EXODUS. 
 
 The heart is harden'd still of Egypt's king, 
 And God's successive plagues have fail'd to 
 
 bring 
 Home to his breast repentance, for his throne 
 Is not more marble than that heart of stone. 
 From when the cry first from the land uprose, 
 Where writhed the Chosen in oppression's 
 
 throes, 
 And ere the Shepherd of Jehovah's choice 
 Had seen the burning bush, and heard the voice 
 That spoke the purpose of the Eternal Mind, 
 To mark him in its wisdom from mankind, 
 And by his means to lead the Chosen Band 
 To their inheritance, the Promised Land ; 
 Through all this time hath Pharaoh's wrath 
 
 burn'd high 
 Against the victims of his tyranny. 
 The serpent-rod, the rivers turn'd to blood, 
 The cattle struck with murrain where they stood, 
 The hail and fire, smiting herb and tree, 
 The darkness, horrid both to feel and see,
 
 EXODUS. 119 
 
 The locusts, breathing terror and dismay, 
 And blighting hopes of harvest in a day, 
 On his proud heart these judgments fall in vain, 
 Still tighter round his slaves he draws the 
 
 chain. 
 Yet think not, Pharaoh, that the Lord of All, 
 At whose dread nod thrones totter, kingdoms 
 
 fall, 
 Will 'bate one tittle of His word divine 
 For opposition impotent as thine, 
 Nor dare to cope with Him who reigns above, 
 When He demands the children of His love. 
 E'en now the Almighty wings the avenging 
 
 dart, 
 Which, when all else has fail'd, must reach thy 
 
 heart. 
 
 Tis midnight, — and on Egypt's burning plains 
 And mighty cities sleep celestial reigns ; 
 Sleep, the unvalued, priceless gift to man, 
 Nightly descending since the world began.
 
 120 EXODUS. 
 
 But on this fatal night the air is stirr'd 
 With breezes strange, and suddenly is heard 
 The rustle of the Death-Angel's sad wings, 
 Filling the soul with dread imaginings ; 
 He, the Death-Angel, girt with awful power, 
 And sent from Heaven in that accursed hour, 
 When man's first crime, pregnant with ills 
 
 immense, 
 Call'd forth the anger of Omnipotence. 
 Not now he comes to give the weary peace, 
 To tottering age to bring a glad release, 
 To those who long the loved and lost to see, 
 Or from his chains to set the captive free ; 
 What now his errand, what his purpose fell, 
 Let the wild cry of Egypt's daughters tell, 
 Who, with a grief not to be thought or said, 
 Woke from their sleep to find their first-born — 
 
 dead ! 
 Here lay the guiltless babe, new-born, and 
 
 there 
 The stalwart youth, with frame to do and dare ;
 
 EXODCS. 121 
 
 No house escaped, from his who till'd the ground 
 To his who sway'd the sceptre, throned and 
 
 crown'd. 
 But not unmoved he saw his own blood flow 
 To swell the fearful catalogue of woe, 
 And forced at last to bow beneath the rod, 
 He own'd the matchless power of Israel's God. 
 Triumphant was their exit from the land ; 
 For with an outstretch'd arm and mighty hand 
 He brought them forth, rich with their captors' 
 
 spoils, 
 Elate with freedom, from their recent toils. 
 How shall I sing the wisdom and the grace 
 With which Jehovah led His Chosen Race! 
 The wondrous power that curb'd the vaunting 
 
 boast 
 Of impious Pharaoh, when, with mighty host, 
 With hate renew'd and unrelenting hand 
 He sought to crush that Heaven-protected band ; 
 Attempt how fruitless ! — For the obedient sea 
 Parted its waves that Israel might be free,
 
 122 EXODUS. 
 
 Dry-shod they cross'd old Ocean's sandy bed, 
 For on each side the billows backward fled, 
 While the Great God, who fought on Israel's 
 
 side, 
 Whelm'd the Egyptians in the refluent tide. 
 And Israel saw the wonder from afar, 
 Horses and chariots and the men of war, 
 With Pharaoh's self, unworthy of his throne, 
 Discomfited, engulf'd, and overthrown. 
 And all again was still. The waves once more 
 Closed on the ruin that they shrouded o'er, 
 But through the silence rose the chant of praise 
 To Him whom e'en the troubled sea obeys, 
 And with one voice they bless'd the Lord of 
 
 All, 
 Who on that day brought Israel out of thrall. 
 
 Wyman <5y Sons, Printers, 74, 75, Great Queen Street, London, IV. C.
 
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