More Bab Ballads, by W. S. Gilbert

Published：2026-08-01 05:28:29 Source: best ride on toys for 11 year olds Author: Sandbox Toys

Transcribed from the 1920 Macmillan and best party favors for easter basketCo edition of“The Bab Ballads”, also from “Fifty BabBallads” 1884 George Routledge and Sons edition by DavidPrice, email [email protected]

MORE BAB BALLADS

CONTENTS

p. 214THEBUMBOAT WOMAN’S STORY

I’m old, mydears, and shrivelled with age, and work, and grief,
My eyes are gone, and my teeth have been drawn by Time, theThief!
For terrible sights I’ve seen, and dangers great I’verun—
I’m nearly seventy now, and my work is almost done!

Ah!  I’ve been young in my time, andI’ve played the deuce with men!
I’m speaking of ten years past—I was barely sixtythen:
My cheeks were mellow and soft, and my eyes were large andsweet,
Poll Pineapple’s eyes were thestanding toast of the Royal Fleet!

A bumboat woman was I, and I faithfully servedthe ships
With apples and cakes, and fowls, and beer, and halfpennydips,
And beef for the generous mess, where the officers dine atnights,
And fine fresh peppermint drops for the rollickingmidshipmites.

Of all the kind commanders who anchored inPortsmouth Bay,
By far the sweetest of all was kind Lieutenant Belaye.’
Lieutenant Belaye commanded thegunboat Hot Cross Bun,
She was seven and thirty feet in length, and she carried agun.

With a laudable view of enhancing hiscountry’s naval pride,
When people inquired her size, LieutenantBelaye replied,
“Oh, my ship, my ship is the first of the Hundred andSeventy-ones!”
Which meant her tonnage, but people imagined it meant herguns.

Whenever I went on board he would beckon medown below,
“Come down, Little Buttercup, come” (for he loved tocall me so),
And he’d tell of the fights at sea in which he’dtaken a part,
And so Lieutenant Belaye won poorPoll Pineapple’s heart!

But at length his orders came, and he said oneday, said he,
“I’m ordered to sail with the Hot Cross Buntothe German Sea.”
And the Portsmouth maidens wept when they learnt the evil day,
For every Portsmouth maid loved good Lieutenant Belaye.

And I went to a back back street, with plentyof cheap cheap shops,
And I bought an oilskin hat and a second-hand suit of slops,
And I went to Lieutenant Belaye (andhe never suspected me!)
And I entered myself as a chap as wanted to go to sea.

We sailed that afternoon at the mystic hour ofone,—
Remarkably nice young men were the crew of the Hot CrossBun,
I’m sorry to say that I’ve heard that sailorssometimes swear,
But I never yet heard a Bunsay anything wrong, Ideclare.

When Jack Tars meet, they meet with a“Messmate, ho!  What cheer?”
But here, on the Hot Cross Bun, it was “How do youdo, my dear?”
When Jack Tars growl, I believe they growl with a big bigD—
But the strongest oath of the Hot Cross Bunswas a mild“Dear me!”

Yet, though they were all well-bred, you couldscarcely call them slick:
Whenever a sea was on, they were all extremely sick;
And whenever the weather was calm, and the wind was light andfair,
They spent more time than a sailor should on his back backhair.

They certainly shivered and shook when orderedaloft to run,
And they screamed when LieutenantBelaye discharged his only gun.
And as he was proud of his gun—such pride is hardlywrong—
The Lieutenant was blazing away at intervals all day long.

They all agreed very well, though at times youheard it said
That Bill had a way of his own ofmaking his lips look red—
That Joe looked quite his age—orsomebody might declare
That Barnacle’s long pig-tailwas never his own own hair.

Belaye would admitthat his men were of no great use to him,
“But, then,” he would say, “there is little todo on a gunboat trim
I can hand, and reef, and steer, and fire my big guntoo—
And it issuch a treat to sail with a gentle well-bredcrew.”

I saw him every day.  How the happymoments sped!
Reef topsails!  Make all taut!  There’s dirtyweather ahead!
(I do not mean that tempests threatened the Hot CrossBun:
In thatcase, I don’t know whatever we shouldhave done!)

After a fortnight’s cruise, we put intoport one day,
And off on leave for a week went kind Lieutenant Belaye,
And after a long long week had passed (and it seemed like alife),
Lieutenant Belaye returned to his shipwith a fair young wife!

He up, and he says, says he, “O crew ofthe Hot Cross Bun,
Here is the wife of my heart, for the Church has made usone!”
And as he uttered the word, the crew went out of their wits,
And all fell down in so many separate fainting-fits.

And then their hair came down, or off, as thecase might be,
And lo! the rest of the crew were simple girls, like me,
Who all had fled from their homes in a sailor’s bluearray,
To follow the shifting fate of kind Lieutenant Belaye.

It’s strange to think that Ishould ever have loved young men,
But I’m speaking of ten years past—I was barely sixtythen,
And now my cheeks are furrowed with grief and age, I trow!
And poor Poll Pineapple’s eyeshave lost their lustre now!

p. 221THETWO OGRES

Good children, list,if you’re inclined,
   And wicked children too—
This pretty ballad is designed
   Especially for you.

Two ogres dwelt in Wickham Wold—
   Each traitsdistinctive had:
The younger was as good as gold,
   The elder was as bad.

A wicked, disobedient son
   Was James M’Alpine,and
A contrast to the elder one,
   Good Applebody Bland.

M’Alpine—brutes like him arefew—
   In greediness delights,
A melancholy victim to
   Unchastened appetites.

Good, well-bred children every day
   He ravenously ate,—
All boys were fish who found their way
   Into M’Alpine’s net:

Boys whose good breeding is innate,
   Whose sums are always right;
And boys who don’t expostulate
   When sent to bed at night;

And kindly boys who never search
   The nests of birds of song;
And serious boys for whom, in church,
   No sermon is too long.

Contrast with James’s greedy haste
   And comprehensive hand,
The nice discriminating taste
   Of Applebody Bland.

Bland only eats badboys, who swear—
   Who canbehave, butdon’t—
Disgraceful lads who say “don’t care,”
   And “shan’t,” and“can’t,” and “won’t.”

Who wet their shoes and learn to box,
   And say what isn’t true,
Who bite their nails and jam their frocks,
   And make long noses too;

Who kick a nurse’s aged shin,
   And sit in sulky mopes;
And boys who twirl poor kittens in
   Distracting zoëtropes.

But James, when hewas quite a youth,
   Had often been to school,
And though so bad, to tell the truth,
   He wasn’t quite a fool.

At logic few with him could vie;
   To his peculiar sect
He could propose a fallacy
   With singular effect.

So, when his Mentors said,“Expound—
   Why eat good children—why?”
Upon his Mentors he would round
   With this absurd reply:

“I have been taught to love thegood—
   The pure—the unalloyed—
And wicked boys, I’ve understood,
   I always should avoid.

“Why do I eat good children—why?
   Because I love them so!”
(But this was empty sophistry,
   As your Papa can show.)

Now, though the learning of his friends
   Was truly not immense,
They had a way of fitting ends
   By rule of common sense.

“Away, away!” his Mentors cried,
   “Thou uncongenial pest!
A quirk’s a thing we can’t abide,
   A quibble we detest!

“A fallacy in your reply
   Our intellect descries,
Although we don’t pretend to spy
   Exactly where it lies.

“In misery and penal woes
   Must end a glutton’s joys;
And learn how ogres punish those
   Who dare to eat good boys.

“Secured by fetter, cramp, and chain,
   And gagged securely—so—
You shall be placed in Drury Lane,
   Where only good lads go.

“Surrounded there by virtuous boys,
   You’ll suffer torture wus
Than that which constantly annoys
   Disgraceful Tantalus.

(“If you would learn the woes that vex
   Poor Tantalus, downthere,
Pray borrow of Papa an ex-
Purgated Lempriere.)

“But as for Bland who, as it seems,
   Eats only naughty boys,
We’ve planned a recompense that teems
   With gastronomic joys.

“Where wicked youths in crowds arestowed
   He shall unquestioned rule,
And have the run of Hackney Road
   Reformatory School!”

p.229LITTLE OLIVER

Earl Joyce he was akind old party
   Whom nothing ever could put out,
Though eighty-two, he still was hearty,
   Excepting as regarded gout.

He had one unexampled daughter,
   The Lady Minnie-hahaJoyce,
Fair Minnie-haha, “LaughingWater,”
   So called from her melodious voice.

By Nature planned for lover-capture,
   Her beauty every heart assailed;
The good old nobleman with rapture
   Observed how widely she prevailed

Aloof from all the lordly flockings
   Of titled swells who worshipped her,
There stood, in pumps and cotton stockings,
   One humble lover—Oliver.

He was no peer by Fortune petted,
   His name recalled no bygone age;
He was no lordling coronetted—
   Alas! he was a simple page!

With vain appeals he never bored her,
   But stood in silent sorrow by—
He knew how fondly he adored her,
   And knew, alas! how hopelessly!

Well grounded by a village tutor
   In languages alive and past,
He’d say unto himself, “Knee-suitor,
   Oh, do not go beyond your last!”

But though his name could boast no handle,
   He could not every hope resign;
As moths will hover round a candle,
   So hovered he about her shrine.

The brilliant candle dazed the moth well:
   One day she sang to her Papa
The air that Marie sings with Bothwell
   In Neidermeyer’sopera.

(Therein a stable boy, it’s stated,
   Devoutly loved a noble dame,
Who ardently reciprocated
   His rather injudicious flame.)

And then, before the piano closing
   (He listened coyly at the door),
She sang a song of her composing—
   I give one verse from half a score:

Ballad

Why, pretty page, art eversighing?
Is sorrow in thy heartlet lying?
      Come, seta-ringing
         Thy laughentrancing,
      And ever singing
         And everdancing.
      Ever singing, Tra!la! la!
      Ever dancing, Tra!la! la!
         Eversinging, ever dancing,
         Eversinging, Tra! la! la!

He skipped for joy like little muttons,
   He danced like Esmeralda’s kid.
(She did not mean a boy in buttons,
   Although he fancied that she did.)

Poor lad! convinced he thus would win her,
   He wore out many pairs of soles;
He danced when taking down the dinner—
   He danced when bringing up the coals.

He danced and sang (however laden)
   With his incessant “Tra! la! la!”
Which much surprised the noble maiden,
   And puzzled even her Papa.

He nourished now his flame and fanned it,
   He even danced at work below.
The upper servants wouldn’t stand it,
   And Bowles the butlertold him so.

At length on impulse acting blindly,
   His love he laid completely bare;
The gentle Earl received him kindly
   And told the lad to take a chair.

“Oh, sir,” the suitor utteredsadly,
   “Don’t give your indignation vent;
I fear you think I’m acting madly,
   Perhaps you think me insolent?”

The kindly Earl repelled the notion;
   His noble bosom heaved a sigh,
His fingers trembled with emotion,
   A tear stood in his mild blue eye:

For, oh! the scene recalled too plainly
   The half-forgotten time when he,
A boy of nine, had worshipped vainly
   A governess of forty-three!

“My boy,” he said, in toneconsoling,
   “Give up this idle fancy—do—
The song you heard my daughter trolling
   Did not, indeed, refer to you.

“I feel for you, poor boy, acutely;
   I would not wish to give you pain;
Your pangs I estimate minutely,—
   I, too, have loved, and loved in vain.

“But still your humble rank andstation
   For Minnie surely are notmeet”—
He said much more in conversation
   Which it were needless to repeat.

Now I’m prepared to bet a guinea,
   Were this a mere dramatic case,
The page would have eloped with Minnie,
   But, no—he only left his place.

The simple Truth is my detective,
   With me Sensation can’t abide;
The Likely beats the mere Effective,
   And Nature is my only guide.

p.235MISTER WILLIAM

Oh, listen to thetale of Mister William, if youplease,
Whom naughty, naughty judges sent away beyond the seas.
He forged a party’s will, which caused anxiety andstrife,
Resulting in his getting penal servitude for life.

He was a kindly goodly man, and naturallyprone,
Instead of taking others’ gold, to give away his own.
But he had heard of Vice, and longed for only once tostrike—
To plan onelittle wickedness—to see what it waslike.

He argued with himself, and said, “Aspotless man am I;
I can’t be more respectable, however hard I try!
For six and thirty years I’ve always been as good asgold,
And now for half an hour I’ll plan infamy untold!

“A baby who is wicked at the early age ofone,
And then reforms—and dies at thirty-six a spotless son,
Is never, never saddled with his babyhood’s defect,
But earns from worthy men consideration and respect.

“So one who never revelled indiscreditable tricks
Until he reached the comfortable age of thirty-six,
May then for half an hour perpetrate a deed of shame,
Without incurring permanent disgrace, or even blame.

“That babies don’t commit suchcrimes as forgery is true,
But little sins develop, if you leave ’em to accrue;
And he who shuns all vices as successive seasons roll,
Should reap at length the benefit of so much self-control.

“The common sin ofbabyhood—objecting to be drest—
If you leave it to accumulate at compound interest,
For anything you know, may represent, if you’re alive,
A burglary or murder at the age of thirty-five.

“Still, I wouldn’t take advantageof this fact, but be content
With some pardonable folly—it’s a mere experiment.
The greater the temptation to go wrong, the less the sin;
So with something that’s particularly tempting I’llbegin.

“I would not steal a penny, for myincome’s very fair—
I do not want a penny—I have pennies and to spare—
And if I stole a penny from a money-bag or till,
The sin would be enormous—the temptation beingnil.

“But if I broke asunder all suchpettifogging bounds,
And forged a party’s Will for (say) Five Hundred ThousandPounds,
With such an irresistible temptation to a haul,
Of course the sin must be infinitesimally small.

“There’s Wilson who is dying—he has wealth fromStock and rent—
If I divert his riches from their natural descent,
I’m placed in a position to indulge each littlewhim.”
So he diverted them—and they, in turn, diverted him.

Unfortunately, though, by some unpardonableflaw,
Temptation isn’t recognized by Britain’s CommonLaw;
Men found him out by some peculiarity of touch,
And William got a “lifer,”which annoyed him very much.

For, ah! he never reconciled himself to life ingaol,
He fretted and he pined, and grew dispirited and pale;
He was numbered like a cabman, too, which told upon him so
That his spirits, once so buoyant, grew uncomfortably low.

And sympathetic gaolers would remark,“It’s very true,
He ain’t been brought up common, like the likes of me andyou.”
So they took him into hospital, and gave him mutton chops,
And chocolate, and arrowroot, and buns, and malt and hops.

Kind Clergymen, besides, grew interested in hisfate,
Affected by the details of his pitiable state.
They waited on the Secretary, somewhere in Whitehall,
Who said he would receive them any day they liked to call.

“Consider, sir, the hardship of thisinteresting case:
A prison life brings with it something very like disgrace;
It’s telling on young William,who’s reduced to skin and bone—
Remember he’s a gentleman, with money of his own.

“He had an ample income, and of course hestands in need
Of sherry with his dinner, and his customary weed;
No delicacies now can pass his gentlemanly lips—
He misses his sea-bathing and his continental trips.

“He says the other prisoners arecommonplace and rude;
He says he cannot relish uncongenial prison food.
When quite a boy they taught him to distinguish Good from Bad,
And other educational advantages he’s had.

“A burglar or garotter, or, indeed, acommon thief
Is very glad to batten on potatoes and on beef,
Or anything, in short, that prison kitchens can afford,—
A cut above the diet in a common workhouse ward.

“But beef and mutton-broth don’tseem to suit our William’swhim,
A boon to other prisoners—a punishment to him.
It never was intended that the discipline of gaol
Should dash a convict’s spirits, sir, or make him thin orpale.”

“Good Gracious Me!” thatsympathetic Secretary cried,
“Suppose in prison fetters MisterWilliam should have died!
Dear me, of course!  Imprisonment for Lifehissentence saith:
I’m very glad you mentioned it—it might have been ForDeath!

“Release him with aticket—he’ll be better then, no doubt,
And tell him I apologize.”  So Mister William’s out.
I hope he will be careful in his manuscripts, I’m sure,
And not begin experimentalizing any more.

p.242PASHA BAILEY BEN

A proud Pasha wasBailey Ben,
His wives were three, his tails were ten;
His form was dignified, but stout,
Men called him “Little Roundabout.”

His Importance

Pale Pilgrims came from o’er the sea
To wait on Pasha Bailey B.,
All bearing presents in a crowd,
For B. was poor as well as proud.

His Presents

They brought him onions strung on ropes,
And cold boiled beef, and telescopes,
And balls of string, and shrimps, and guns,
And chops, and tacks, and hats, and buns.

More of them

They brought him white kid gloves, andpails,
And candlesticks, and potted quails,
And capstan-bars, and scales and weights,
And ornaments for empty grates.

Why I mention these

My tale is not of these—oh no!
I only mention them to show
The divers gifts that divers men
Brought o’er the sea to BaileyBen.

His Confidant

A confidant had Bailey B.,
A gay Mongolian dog was he;
I am not good at Turkish names,
And so I call him Simple James.

His Confidant’sCountenance

A dreadful legend you might trace
In Simple James’s honestface,
For there you read, in Nature’s print,
“A Scoundrel of the Deepest Tint.”

His Character

A deed of blood, or fire, or flames,
Was meat and drink to Simple James:
To hide his guilt he did not plan,
But owned himself a bad young man.

The Author to his Reader

And why on earth good Bailey Ben
(The wisest, noblest, best of men)
Made Simple James his right-handman
Is quite beyond my mental span.

The same,continued

But there—enough of gruesome deeds!
My heart, in thinking of them, bleeds;
And so let Simple James takewing,—
’Tis not of him I’m going to sing.

The Pasha’s Clerk

Good Pasha Baileykept a clerk
(For Bailey only made his mark),
His name was Matthew Wycombe Coo,
A man of nearly forty-two.

His Accomplishments

No person that I ever knew
Could “yödel” half as well as Coo,
And Highlanders exclaimed, “Eh, weel!”
When Coo began to dance a reel.

His Kindness to thePasha’s Wives

He used to dance and sing and play
In such an unaffected way,
He cheered the unexciting lives
Of Pasha Bailey’s lovelywives.

The Author to his Reader

But why should I encumber you
With histories of Matthew Coo?
Let Matthew Coo at once takewing,—
’Tis not of Coo I’m goingto sing.

The Author’s Muse

Let me recall my wandering Muse;
She shallbe steady if I choose—
She roves, instead of helping me
To tell the deeds of Bailey B.

The Pasha’sVisitor

One morning knocked, at half-past eight,
A tall Red Indian at his gate.
In Turkey, as you’re p’raps aware,
Red Indians are extremely rare.

The Visitor’sOutfit

Mocassins decked his graceful legs,
His eyes were black, and round as eggs,
And on his neck, instead of beads,
Hung several Catawampous seeds.

What the Visitor said

“Ho, ho!” he said, “thoupale-faced one,
Poor offspring of an Eastern sun,
You’ve neverseen the Red Man skip
Upon the banks of Mississip!”

The Author’sModeration

To say that Baileyoped his eyes
Would feebly paint his great surprise—
To say it almost made him die
Would be to paint it much too high.

The Author to his Reader

But why should I ransack my head
To tell you all that Indian said;
We’ll let the Indian man take wing,—
’Tis not of him I’m going to sing.

The Reader to the Author

Come, come, I say, that’s quite enough
Of this absurd disjointed stuff;
Now let’s get on to that affair
About Lieutenant-Colonel Flare.

p.248LIEUTENANT-COLONEL FLARE

The earth has armiesplenty,
   And semi-warlike bands,
I dare say there are twenty
   In European lands;
But, oh! in no direction
   You’d find one to compare
In brotherly affection
   With that of ColonelFlare.

His soldiers might be rated
   As military Pearls.
As unsophisticated
   As pretty little girls!
They never smoked or ratted,
   Or talked of Sues or Polls;
The Sergeant-Major tatted,
   The others nursed their dolls.

He spent his days in teaching
   These truly solemn facts;
There’s little use in preaching,
   Or circulating tracts.
(The vainest plan invented
   For stifling other creeds,
Unless it’s supplemented
   With charitable deeds.)

He taught his soldiers kindly
   To give at Hunger’s call:
“Oh, better far give blindly,
   Than never give at all!
Though sympathy be kindled
   By Imposition’s game,
Oh, better far be swindled
   Than smother up its flame!”

His means were far from ample
   For pleasure or for dress,
Yet note this bright example
   Of single-heartedness:
Though ranking as a Colonel,
   His pay was but a groat,
While their reward diurnal
   Was—each a five-pound note.

Moreover,—this evinces
   His kindness, you’ll allow,—
He fed them all like princes,
   And lived himself on cow.
He set them all regaling
   On curious wines, and dear,
While he would sit pale-ale-ing,
   Or quaffing ginger-beer.

Then at his instigation
   (A pretty fancy this)
Their daily pay and ration
   He’d take in change for his;
They brought it to him weekly,
   And he without a groan,
Would take it from them meekly
   And give them all his own!

Though not exactly knighted
   As knights, of course, should be,
Yet no one so delighted
   In harmless chivalry.
If peasant girl or ladye
   Beneath misfortunes sank,
Whate’er distinctions made he,
   They were not those of rank.

No maiden young and comely
   Who wanted good advice
(However poor or homely)
   Need ask him for it twice.
He’d wipe away the blindness
   That comes of teary dew;
His sympathetic kindness
   No sort of limit knew.

He always hated dealing
   With men who schemed or planned;
A person harsh—unfeeling—
   The Colonel could not stand.
He hated cold, suspecting,
   Official men in blue,
Who pass their lives detecting
   The crimes that others do.

For men who’d shoot a sparrow,
   Or immolate a worm
Beneath a farmer’s harrow,
   He could not find a term.
Humanely, ay, and knightly
   He dealt with such an one;
He took and tied him tightly,
   And blew him from a gun.

The earth has armies plenty,
   And semi-warlike bands,
I’m certain there are twenty
   In European lands;
But, oh! in no direction
   You’d find one to compare
In brotherly affection
   With that of ColonelFlare.

p. 256LOSTMR. BLAKE

Mr. Blake was aregular out-and-out hardened sinner,
   Who was quite out of the pale of Christianity, so tospeak,
He was in the habit of smoking a long pipe and drinking a glassof grog on a Sunday after dinner,
And seldom thought of going to church more than twice or—ifGood Friday or Christmas Day happened to come in it—threetimes a week.

He was quite indifferent as to the particularkinds of dresses
   That the clergyman wore at church where he used togo to pray,
And whatever he did in the way of relieving a chap’sdistresses,
   He always did in a nasty, sneaking, underhanded,hole-and-corner sort of way.

I have known him indulge in profane,ungentlemanly emphatics,
   When the Protestant Church has been divided on thesubject of the proper width of a chasuble’s hem;
I have even known him to sneer at albs—and as fordalmatics,
   Words can’t convey an idea of the contempt heexpressed for them.

He didn’t believe in persons who, notbeing well off themselves, are obliged to confine theircharitable exertions to collecting money from wealthierpeople,
   And looked upon individuals of the former class asecclesiastical hawks;
He used to say that he would no more think of interfering withhis priest’s robes than with his church or his steeple,
   And that he did not consider his soul imperilledbecause somebody over whom he had no influence whatever, chose todress himself up like an exaggerated GuyFawkes.

This shocking old vagabond was so unutterablyshameless
   That he actually went a-courting a very respectableand pious middle-aged sister, by the name of Biggs.
She was a rather attractive widow, whose life as such had alwaysbeen particularly blameless;
   Her first husband had left her a secure but moderatecompetence, owing to some fortunate speculations in the matter offigs.

She was an excellent person in everyway—and won the respect even of Mrs.Grundy,
   She was a good housewife, too, and wouldn’thave wasted a penny if she had owned the Koh-i-noor.
She was just as strict as he was lax in her observance ofSunday,
   And being a good economist, and charitable besides,she took all the bones and cold potatoes and broken pie-crustsand candle-ends (when she had quite done with them), and madethem into an excellent soup for the deserving poor.

I am sorry to say that she rather took to Blake—that outcast of society,
   And when respectable brothers who were fond of herbegan to look dubious and to cough,
She would say, “Oh, my friends, it’s because I hopeto bring this poor benighted soul back to virtue andpropriety,”
   And besides, the poor benighted soul, with all hisfaults, was uncommonly well off.

And when Mr.Blake’s dissipated friends called his attention tothe frown or the pout of her,
   Whenever he did anything which appeared to her tosavour of an unmentionable place,
He would say that “she would be a very decent old girl whenall that nonsense was knocked out of her,”
   And his method of knocking it out of her is one thatcovered him with disgrace.

She was fond of going to church services fourtimes every Sunday, and, four or five times in the week, andnever seemed to pall of them,
   So he hunted out all the churches within aconvenient distance that had services at different hours, so tospeak;
And when he had married her he positively insisted upon theirgoing to all of them,
   So they contrived to do about twelve churches everySunday, and, if they had luck, from twenty-two to twenty-three inthe course of the week.

She was fond of dropping his sovereignsostentatiously into the plate, and she liked to see them standout rather conspicuously against the commonplace half-crowns andshillings,
   So he took her to all the charity sermons, and if byany extraordinary chance there wasn’t a charity sermonanywhere, he would drop a couple of sovereigns (one for him andone for her) into the poor-box at the door;
And as he always deducted the sums thus given in charity from thehousekeeping money, and the money he allowed her for her bonnetsand frillings,
   She soon began to find that even charity, if youallow it to interfere with your personal luxuries, becomes anintolerable bore.

On Sundays she was always melancholy andanything but good society,
   For that day in her household was a day of sighingsand sobbings and wringing of hands and shaking of heads:
She wouldn’t hear of a button being sewn on a glove,because it was a work neither of necessity nor of piety,
   And strictly prohibited her servants from amusingthemselves, or indeed doing anything at all except dusting thedrawing-rooms, cleaning the boots and shoes, cooking the parlourdinner, waiting generally on the family, and making the beds.

But Blake even wentfurther than that, and said that people should do their own worksof necessity, and not delegate them to persons in a menialsituation,
   So he wouldn’t allow his servants to do somuch as even answer a bell.
Here he is making his wife carry up the water for her bath to thesecond floor, much against her inclination,—
   And why in the world the gentleman who illustratesthese ballads has put him in a cocked hat is more than I cantell.

After about three months of this sort of thing,taking the smooth with the rough of it,
   (Blacking her own boots and peeling her own potatoeswas not her notion of connubial bliss),
Mrs. Blake began to find that she hadpretty nearly had enough of it,
   And came, in course of time, to think that Blake’s own original line of conductwasn’t so much amiss.

And now that wicked person—thatdetestable sinner (“BelialBlake” his friends and well-wishers call him for hisatrocities),
   And his poor deluded victim, whom all her Christianbrothers dislike and pity so,
Go to the parish church only on Sunday morning and afternoon andoccasionally on a week-day, and spend their evenings in connubialfondlings and affectionate reciprocities,
   And I should like to know where in the world (orrather, out of it) they expect to go!

p. 265THEBABY’S VENGEANCE

Weary at heart andextremely ill
Was Paley Vollaire ofBromptonville,
In a dirty lodging, with fever down,
Close to the Polygon, Somers Town.

Paley Vollaire wasan only son
(For why?  His mother had had but one),
And Paley inherited gold andgrounds
Worth several hundred thousand pounds.

But he, like many a rich young man,
Through this magnificent fortune ran,
And nothing was left for his daily needs
But duplicate copies of mortgage-deeds.

Shabby and sorry and sorely sick,
He slept, and dreamt that the clock’s “tick,tick,”
Was one of the Fates, with a long sharp knife,
Snicking off bits of his shortened life.

He woke and counted the pips on the walls,
The outdoor passengers’ loud footfalls,
And reckoned all over, and reckoned again,
The little white tufts on his counterpane.

A medical man to his bedside came.
(I can’t remember that doctor’s name),
And said, “You’ll die in a very short while
If you don’t set sail for Madeira’s isle.”

“Go to Madeira? goodness me!
I haven’t the money to pay your fee!”
“Then, Paley Vollaire,”said the leech, “good bye;
I’ll come no more, for you’re sure to die.”

He sighed and he groaned and smote hisbreast;
“Oh, send,” said he, “for Frederick West,
Ere senses fade or my eyes grow dim:
I’ve a terrible tale to whisper him!”

Poor was Frederick’s lot in life,—
A dustman he with a fair young wife,
A worthy man with a hard-earned store,
A hundred and seventy pounds—or more.

Frederick came, andhe said, “Maybe
You’ll say what you happened to want with me?”
“Wronged boy,” said PaleyVollaire, “I will,
But don’t you fidget yourself—sit still.”

* * * *

“’Tis now some thirty-seven yearsago
   Since first began the plot that I’mrevealing,
A fine young woman, whom you ought to know,
   Lived with her husband down in Drum Lane, Ealing.
Herself by means of mangling reimbursing,
And now and then (at intervals) wet-nursing.

“Two little babes dwelt in their humblecot:
   One was her own—the other only lent to her:
Her own she slighted.  Tempted by a lot
   Of gold and silver regularly sent to her,
She ministered unto the little other
In the capacity of foster-mother.

“I was her own.  Oh! how Ilay and sobbed
   In my poor cradle—deeply, deeply cursing
The rich man’s pampered bantling, who had robbed
   My only birthright—an attentive nursing!
Sometimes in hatred of my foster-brother,
I gnashed my gums—which terrified my mother.

“One day—it was quite early in theweek—
   I inMYcradle having placed the bantling—
Crept into his!  He had not learnt to speak,
   But I could see his face with anger mantling.
It was imprudent—well, disgraceful maybe,
For, oh! I was a bad, black-hearted baby!

“So great a luxury was food, I think
   No wickedness but I was game to try for it.
Nowif I wanted anything to drink
   At any time, I only had to cry for it!
Once, if I dared to weep, the bottle lacking,
My blubbering involved a serious smacking!

“We grew up in the usual way—myfriend,
   My foster-brother, daily growing thinner,
While gradually I began to mend,
   And thrived amazingly on double dinner.
And every one, besides my foster-mother,
Believed that either of us was the other.

“I came into hiswealth—Ibore hisname,
   I bear it still—hisproperty Isquandered—
I mortgaged everything—and now (oh, shame!)
   Into a Somers Town shake-down I’vewandered!
I am no Paley—no, Vollaire—it’s true, my boy!
The only rightful Paley V. isyou, my boy!

“And all I have is yours—and yoursis mine.
   I still may place you in your true position:
Give me the pounds you’ve saved, and I’ll resign
   My noble name, my rank, and my condition.
So far my wickedness in falsely owning
Your vasty wealth, I am at last atoning!”

* * * * * *

Frederick he was asimple soul,
He pulled from his pocket a bulky roll,
And gave to Paley his hard-earnedstore,
A hundred and seventy pounds or more.

Paley Vollaire, withmany a groan,
Gave Frederick all that he called hisown,—
Two shirts and a sock, and a vest of jean,
A Wellington boot and a bamboo cane.

And Fred (entitledto all things there)
He took the fever from Mr.Vollaire,
Which killed poor FrederickWest.  Meanwhile
Vollaire sailed off to Madeira’sisle.

p. 273THECAPTAIN AND THE MERMAIDS

I sing a legend ofthe sea,
So hard-a-port upon your lee!
      A ship on starboard tack!
She’s bound upon a private cruise—
(This is the kind of spice I use
      To give a salt-sea smack).

Behold, on every afternoon
(Save in a gale or strong Monsoon)
      Great CaptainCapel Cleggs
(Great morally, though rather short)
Sat at an open weather-port
      And aired his shapely legs.

And Mermaids hung around in flocks,
On cable chains and distant rocks,
      To gaze upon those limbs;
For legs like those, of flesh and bone,
Are things “not generally known”
      To any Merman Timbs.

But Mermen didn’t seem to care
Much time (as far as I’m aware)
      With Cleggs’s legs to spend;
Though Mermaids swam around all day
And gazed, exclaiming, “That’sthe way
      A gentleman should end!

“A pair of legs with well-cut knees,
And calves and ankles such as these
      Which we in rapture hail,
Are far more eloquent, it’s clear
(When clothed in silk and kerseymere),
      Than any nasty tail.”

And Cleggs—aworthy kind old boy—
Rejoiced to add to others’ joy,
      And, when the day was dry,
Because it pleased the lookers-on,
He sat from morn till night—though con-
      Stitutionally shy.

At first the Mermen laughed, “Pooh!pooh!”
But finally they jealous grew,
      And sounded loud recalls;
But vainly.  So these fishy males
Declared they too would clothe their tails
      In silken hose and smalls.

They set to work, these water-men,
And made their nether robes—but when
      They drew with dainty touch
The kerseymere upon their tails,
They found it scraped against their scales,
      And hurt them very much.

The silk, besides, with which they chose
To deck their tails by way of hose
      (They never thought of shoon),
For such a use was much too thin,—
It tore against the caudal fin,
      And “went in ladders”soon.

So they designed another plan:
They sent their most seductive man
      This note to him to show—
“Our Monarch sends to CaptainCleggs
His humble compliments, and begs
      He’ll join him downbelow;

“We’ve pleasant homes below thesea—
Besides, if Captain Cleggs shouldbe
      (As our advices say)
A judge of Mermaids, he will find
Our lady-fish of every kind
      Inspection will repay.”

Good Capel sent akind reply,
For Capel thought he could descry
      An admirable plan
To study all their ways and laws—
(But not their lady-fish, because
      He was a married man).

The Merman sank—the Captain too
Jumped overboard, and dropped from view
      Like stone from catapult;
And when he reached the Merman’s lair,
He certainly was welcomed there,
      But, ah! with what result?

They didn’t let him learn their law,
Or make a note of what he saw,
      Or interesting mem.:
The lady-fish he couldn’t find,
But that, of course, he didn’t mind—
      He didn’t come for them.

For though, when CaptainCapel sank,
The Mermen drawn in double rank
      Gave him a hearty hail,
Yet when secure of Captain Cleggs,
They cut off both his lovely legs,
      And gave him suchatail!

When Captain Cleggsreturned aboard,
His blithesome crew convulsive roar’d,
      To see him altered so.
The Admiralty did insist
That he upon the Half-pay List
      Immediately should go.

In vain declared the poor old salt,
“It’s my misfortune—not my fault,”
      With tear and tremblinglip—
In vain poor Capel begged andbegged.
“A man must be completely legged
      Who rules a Britishship.”

So spake the stern First Lord aloud—
He was a wag, though very proud,
      And much rejoiced to say,
“You’re only half a captain now—
And so, my worthy friend, I vow
      You’ll only gethalf-pay!”

p.280ANNIE PROTHEROE

A LEGEND OFSTRATFORD-LE-BOW

Oh! listen to thetale of little Annie Protheroe.
She kept a small post-office in the neighbourhood of Bow;
She loved a skilled mechanic, who was famous in his day—
A gentle executioner whose name was GilbertClay.

I think I hear you say, “A dreadfulsubject for your rhymes!”
O reader, do not shrink—he didn’t live in moderntimes!
He lived so long ago (the sketch will show it at a glance)
That all his actions glitter with the lime-light of Romance.

In busy times he laboured at his gentle craftall day—
“No doubt you mean his Cal-craft,” you amusingly willsay—
But, no—he didn’t operate with common bits ofstring,
He was a Public Headsman, which is quite another thing.

And when his work was over, they would rambleo’er the lea,
And sit beneath the frondage of an elderberry tree,
And Annie’s simple prattleentertained him on his walk,
For public executions formed the subject of her talk.

And sometimes he’d explain to her, whichcharmed her very much,
How famous operators vary very much in touch,
And then, perhaps, he’d show how he himself performed thetrick,
And illustrate his meaning with a poppy and a stick.

Or, if it rained, the little maid would stop athome, and look
At his favourable notices, all pasted in a book,
And then her cheek would flush—her swimming eyes woulddance with joy
In a glow of admiration at the prowess of her boy.

One summer eve, at supper-time, the gentleGilbert said
(As he helped his pretty Annie to aslice of collared head),
“This reminds me I must settle on the next ensuing day
The hash of that unmitigated villain PeterGray.”

He saw his Annietremble and he saw his Annie start,
Her changing colour trumpeted the flutter at her heart;
Young Gilbert’s manly bosom roseand sank with jealous fear,
And he said, “O gentle Annie,what’s the meaning of this here?”

And Annie answered,blushing in an interesting way,
“You think, no doubt, I’m sighing for that felonPeter Gray:
That I was his young woman is unquestionably true,
But not since I began a-keeping company with you.”

Then Gilbert, whowas irritable, rose and loudly swore
He’d know the reason why if she refused to tell himmore;
And she answered (all the woman in her flashing from her eyes)
“You mustn’t ask no questions, and you won’t betold no lies!

“Few lovers have the privilege enjoyed,my dear, by you,
Of chopping off a rival’s head and quartering him too!
Of vengeance, dear, to-morrow you will surely take yourfill!”
And Gilbert ground his molars as heanswered her, “I will!”

Young Gilbert rosefrom table with a stern determined look,
And, frowning, took an inexpensive hatchet from its hook;
And Annie watched his movements withan interested air—
For the morrow—for the morrow he was going to prepare!

He chipped it with a hammer and he chopped itwith a bill,
He poured sulphuric acid on the edge of it, until
This terrible Avenger of the Majesty of Law
Was far less like a hatchet than a dissipated saw.

And Annie said,“O Gilbert, dear, I do notunderstand
Why ever you are injuring that hatchet in your hand?”
He said, “It is intended for to lacerate and flay
The neck of that unmitigated villain PeterGray!”

“Now, Gilbert,” Annie answered, “wicked headsman, justbeware—
I won’t have Peter tortured withthat horrible affair;
If you appear with that, you may depend you’ll rue theday.”
But Gilbert said, “Oh, shallI?” which was just his nasty way.

He saw a look of anger from her eyes distinctlydart,
For Annie was a woman, and hadpity in her heart!
She wished him a good evening—he answered with a glare;
She only said, “Remember, for your Annie will be there!”

* * * * * * *

The morrow Gilbertboldly on the scaffold took his stand,
With a vizor on his face and with a hatchet in his hand,
And all the people noticed that the Engine of the Law
Was far less like a hatchet than a dissipated saw.

The felon very coolly loosed his collar and hisstock,
And placed his wicked head upon the handy little block.
The hatchet was uplifted for to settle PeterGray,
When Gilbert plainly heard awoman’s voice exclaiming, “Stay!”

’Twas Annie,gentle Annie, as you’ll easilybelieve.
“O Gilbert, you must spare him,for I bring him a reprieve,
It came from our Home Secretary many weeks ago,
And passed through that post-office which I used to keep atBow.

“I loved you, loved you madly, and youknow it, Gilbert Clay,
And as I’d quite surrendered all idea of Peter Gray,
I quietly suppressed it, as you’ll clearly understand,
For I thought it might be awkward if he came and claimed myhand.

“In anger at my secret (which I could nottell before),
To lacerate poor Peter Grayvindictively you swore;
I told you if you used that blunted axe you’d rue theday,
And so you will, young Gilbert, forI’ll marry PeterGray!”

[And so she did.

p. 287ANUNFORTUNATE LIKENESS

I’ve paintedShakespeare all my life—
   “An infant” (even then at“play”!)
“A boy,” with stage-ambition rife,
   Then “Married to AnnHathaway.”

“The bard’s first ticketnight” (or “ben.”),
   His “First appearance on the stage,”
His “Call before the curtain”—then
   “Rejoicings when he came of age.”

The bard play-writing in his room,
   The bard a humble lawyer’s clerk.
The bard a lawyer [287a]—parson [287b]—groom [287c]—
   The bard deer-stealing, after dark.

The bard a tradesman [288a]—and a Jew [288b]—
   The bard a botanist [288c]—a beak [288d]—
The bard a skilled musician [288e] too—
   A sheriff [288f] and a surgeon [288g] eke!

Yet critics say (a friendly stock)
   That, though it’s evident I try,
Yet even I can barely mock
   The glimmer of his wondrous eye!

One morning as a work I framed,
   There passed a person, walking hard:
“My gracious goodness,” I exclaimed,
   “How very like my dear old bard!

“Oh, what a model he wouldmake!”
   I rushed outside—impulsive me!—
“Forgive the liberty I take,
   But you’re sovery”—“Stop!” said he.

“You needn’t waste your breath ortime,—
   I know what you are going to say,—
That you’re an artist, and that I’m
   Remarkably like Shakespeare.  Eh?

“You wish that I would sit toyou?”
   I clasped him madly round the waist,
And breathlessly replied, “I do!”
   “All right,” said he, “but pleasemake haste.”

I led him by his hallowed sleeve,
   And worked away at him apace,
I painted him till dewy eve,—
   There never was a nobler face!

“Oh, sir,” I said, “a fortunegrand
   Is yours, by dint of merest chance,—
To sport hisbrow at second-hand,
   To wear hiscast-off countenance!

“To rub hiseyes whene’erthey ache—
   To wear hisbaldness ere you’reold—
To clean histeeth when you awake—
   To blow hisnose when you’ve acold!”

His eyeballs glistened in his eyes—
   I sat and watched and smoked my pipe;
“Bravo!” I said, “I recognize
   The phrensy of your prototype!”

His scanty hair he wildly tore:
   “That’s right,” said I, “itshows your breed.”
He danced—he stamped—he wildly swore—
   “Bless me, that’s very fineindeed!”

“Sir,” said the grand Shakesperianboy
   (Continuing to blaze away),
“You think my face a source of joy;
   That shows you know not what you say.

“Forgive these yells and cellar-flaps:
   I’m always thrown in some such state
When on his face well-meaning chaps
   This wretched man congratulate.

“For, oh! this face—this pointedchin—
   This nose—this brow—these eyeballstoo,
Have always been the origin
   Of all the woes I ever knew!

“If to the play my way I find,
   To see a grand Shakesperian piece,
I have no rest, no ease of mind
   Until the author’s puppets cease.

“Men nudge eachother—thus—and say,
   ‘This certainly is Shakespeare’s son,’
And merry wags (of course in play)
   Cry ‘Author!’ when the piece isdone.

“In church the people stare at me,
   Their soul the sermon never binds;
I catch them looking round to see,
   And thoughts of Shakespeare fill their minds.

“And sculptors, fraught with cunningwile,
   Who find it difficult to crown
A bust with Brown’s insipidsmile,
   Or Tomkins’sunmannered frown,

“Yet boldly make my face their own,
   When (oh, presumption!) they require
To animate a paving-stone
   With Shakespeare’sintellectual fire.

“At parties where young ladies gaze,
   And I attempt to speak my joy,
‘Hush, pray,’ some lovely creature says,
   ‘The fond illusion don’tdestroy!’

“Whene’er I speak, my soul iswrung
   With these or some such whisperings:
‘’Tis pity that a Shakespeare’s tongue
   Should say such un-Shakesperian things!’

“I should not thus be criticised
   Had I a face of common wont:
Don’t envy me—now, be advised!”
   And, now I think of it, I don’t!

p.294GREGORY PARABLE, LL.D.

A leafy cot, whereno dry rot
Had ever been by tenant seen,
Where ivy clung and wopses stung,
Where beeses hummed and drummed and strummed,
Where treeses grew and breezes blew—
A thatchy roof, quite waterproof,
Where countless herds of dicky-birds
Built twiggy beds to lay their heads
(My mother begs I’ll make it “eggs,”
But though it’s true that dickies do
Construct a nest with chirpy noise,
With view to rest their eggy joys,
’Neath eavy sheds, yet eggs and beds,
As I explain to her in vain
Five hundred times, are faulty rhymes).
’Neath such a cot, built on a plot
Of freehold land, dwelt Mary and
Her worthy father, named by me
Gregory Parable, LL.D.

He knew no guile, this simple man,
No worldly wile, or plot, or plan,
Except that plot of freehold land
That held the cot, and Mary, and
Her worthy father, named by me
Gregory Parable, LL.D.

A grave and learned scholar he,
Yet simple as a child could be.
He’d shirk his meal to sit and cram
A goodish deal of Eton Gram.
No man alive could him nonplus
With vocative of filius;
No man alive more fully knew
The passive of a verb or two;
None better knew the worth than he
Of words that end in b, d, t.
Upon his green in early spring
He might be seen endeavouring
To understand the hooks and crooks
Of Henry and his Latin books;
Or calling for his “Cæsar on
The Gallic War,” like any don;
Or, p’raps, expounding unto all
How mythic Balbus built a wall.
So lived the sage who’s named by me
Gregory Parable, LL.D.

To him one autumn day there came
A lovely youth of mystic name:
He took a lodging in the house,
And fell a-dodging snipe and grouse,
For, oh! that mild scholastic one
Let shooting for a single gun.

By three or four, when sport was o’er,
The Mystic One laid by his gun,
And made sheep’s eyes of giant size,
Till after tea, at Mary P.
And Mary P. (so kind was she),
She, too, made eyes of giant size,
Whose every dart right through the heart
Appeared to run that Mystic One.
The Doctor’s whim engrossing him,
He did not know they flirted so.
For, save at tea, “musa musæ,”
As I’m advised, monopolised
And rendered blind his giant mind.
But looking up above his cup
One afternoon, he saw them spoon.
“Aha!” quoth he, “you naughty lass!
As quaint old Ovid says,‘Amas!’”

The Mystic Youth avowed the truth,
And, claiming ruth, he said, “In sooth
I love your daughter, aged man:
Refuse to join us if you can.
Treat not my offer, sir, with scorn,
I’m wealthy though I’m lowly born.”
“Young sir,” the aged scholar said,
“I never thought you meant to wed:
Engrossed completely with my books,
I little noticed lovers’ looks.
I’ve lived so long away from man,
I do not know of any plan
By which to test a lover’s worth,
Except, perhaps, the test of birth.
I’ve half forgotten in this wild
A father’s duty to his child.
It is his place, I think it’s said,
To see his daughters richly wed
To dignitaries of the earth—
If possible, of noble birth.
If noble birth is not at hand,
A father may, I understand
(And this affords a chance for you),
Be satisfied to wed her to
A Boucicault or Baring—which
Means any one who’s very rich.
Now, there’s an Earl who lives hard by,—
My child and I will go and try
If he will make the maid his bride—
If not, to you she shall be tied.”

They sought the Earl that very day;
The Sage began to say his say.
The Earl (a very wicked man,
Whose face bore Vice’s blackest ban)
Cut short the scholar’s simple tale,
And said in voice to make them quail,
“Pooh! go along! you’re drunk, no doubt—
Here, Peters, turn these peopleout!”

The Sage, rebuffed in mode uncouth,
Returning, met the Mystic Youth.
“My darling boy,” the Scholar said,
“Take Mary—blessings onyour head!”

The Mystic Boy undid his vest,
And took a parchment from his breast,
And said, “Now, by that noble brow,
I ne’er knew father such as thou!
The sterling rule of common sense
Now reaps its proper recompense.
Rejoice, my soul’s unequalled Queen,
For I am Duke of GretnaGreen!”

p. 301THEKING OF CANOODLE-DUM

The story of Frederick Gowler,
   A mariner of the sea,
Who quitted his ship, the Howler,
   A-sailing in Caribbee.
For many a day he wandered,
   Till he met in a state of rum
Calamity Pop Von Peppermint Drop,
   The King of Canoodle-Dum.

That monarch addressed him gaily,
   “Hum!  Golly de do to-day?
Hum!  Lily-white Buckra Sailee”—
   (You notice his playful way?)—
“What dickens you doin’ here, sar?
   Why debbil you want to come?
Hum!  Picaninnee, dere isn’t no sea
   In City Canoodle-Dum!”

And Gowler heanswered sadly,
   “Oh, mine is a doleful tale!
They’ve treated me werry badly
   In Lunnon, from where I hail.
I’m one of the Family Royal—
   No common Jack Tar you see;
I’m William the Fourth, far upin the North,
   A King in my own countree!”

Bang-bang!  How the tom-toms thundered!
   Bang-bang!  How they thumped this gongs!
Bang-bang!  How the people wondered!
   Bang-bang!  At it hammer and tongs!
Alliance with Kings of Europe
   Is an honour Canoodlers seek,
Her monarchs don’t stop with PeppermintDrop
   Every day in the week!

Fred told them thathe was undone,
   For his people all went insane,
And fired the Tower of London,
   And Grinnidge’s Naval Fane.
And some of them racked St. James’s,
   And vented their rage upon
The Church of St. Paul, the Fishmongers’ Hall,
   And the Angel at Islington.

Calamity Popimplored him
   In his capital to remain
Till those people of his restored him
   To power and rank again.
Calamity Pop he made him
   A Prince of Canoodle-Dum,
With a couple of caves, some beautiful slaves,
   And the run of the royal rum.

Pop gave him his only daughter,
   Hum Pickety WimpleTip:
Fred vowed that if over the water
   He went, in an English ship,
He’d make her his Queen,—though truly
   It is an unusual thing
For a Caribbee brat who’s as black as your hat
   To be wife of an English King.

And all the Canoodle-Dummers
   They copied his rolling walk,
His method of draining rummers,
   His emblematical talk.
For his dress and his graceful breeding,
   His delicate taste in rum,
And his nautical way, were the talk of the day
   In the Court of Canoodle-Dum.

Calamity Pop mostwisely
   Determined in everything
To model his Court precisely
   On that of the English King;
And ordered that every lady
   And every lady’s lord
Should masticate jacky (a kind of tobaccy),
   And scatter its juice abroad.

They signified wonder roundly
   At any astounding yarn,
By darning their dear eyes roundly
   (’T was all they had to darn).
They “hoisted their slacks,” adjusting
   Garments of plantain-leaves
With nautical twitches (as if they wore breeches,
   Instead of a dress like Eve’s!)

They shivered their timbers proudly,
   At a phantom forelock dragged,
And called for a hornpipe loudly
   Whenever amusement flagged.
“Hum!  Golly! him Popresemble,
   Him Britisher sov’reign, hum!
Calamity Pop Von Peppermint Drop,
   De King of Canoodle-Dum!”

The mariner’s lively“Hollo!”
   Enlivened Canoodle’s plain
(For blessings unnumbered follow
   In Civilization’s train).
But Fortune, who loves a bathos,
   A terrible ending planned,
For Admiral D. Chickabiddy, C.B.,
   Placed foot on Canoodle land!

That rebel, he seized KingGowler,
   He threatened his royal brains,
And put him aboard the Howler,
   And fastened him down with chains.
The Howlershe weighed her anchor,
   With Frederick nicelynailed,
And off to the North with William theFourth
   These horrible pirates sailed.

Calamity said (withfolly),
   “Hum! nebber want him again—
Him civilize all of us, golly!
   Calamity suck himbrain!”
The people, however, were pained when
   They saw him aboard his ship,
But none of them wept for their Freddy, except
   Hum Pickety WimpleTip.

p.309FIRST LOVE

A clergyman inBerkshire dwelt,
   The Reverend BernardPowles,
And in his church there weekly knelt
   At least a hundred souls.

There little Ellenyou might see,
   The modest rustic belle;
In maidenly simplicity,
   She loved her Bernardwell.

Though Ellen wore aplain silk gown
   Untrimmed with lace or fur,
Yet not a husband in the town
   But wished his wife like her.

Though sterner memories might fade,
   You never could forget
The child-form of that baby-maid,
   The Village Violet!

A simple frightened loveliness,
   Whose sacred spirit-part
Shrank timidly from worldly stress,
   And nestled in your heart.

Powles woo’dwith every well-worn plan
   And all the usual wiles
With which a well-schooled gentleman
   A simple heart beguiles.

The hackneyed compliments that bore
   World-folks like you and me,
Appeared to her as if they wore
   The crown of Poesy.

His winking eyelid sang a song
   Her heart could understand,
Eternity seemed scarce too long
   When Bernard squeezed herhand.

He ordered down the martial crew
   Of Godfrey’sGrenadiers,
And Coote conspired with Tinney to
   Ecstaticise her ears.

Beneath her window, veiled from eye,
   They nightly took their stand;
On birthdays supplemented by
   The Covent Garden band.

And little Ellen,all alone,
   Enraptured sat above,
And thought how blest she was to own
   The wealth of Powles’s love.

I often, often wonder what
   Poor Ellen saw in him;
For calculated he was not
   To please a woman’s whim.

He wasn’t good, despite the air
   An M.B. waistcoat gives;
Indeed, his dearest friends declare
   No greater humbug lives.

No kind of virtue decked this priest,
   He’d nothing to allure;
He wasn’t handsome in the least,—
   He wasn’t even poor.

No—he was cursed with acres fat
   (A Christian’s direst ban),
And gold—yet, notwithstanding that,
   Poor Ellen loved theman.

As unlike Bernard ascould be
   Was poor old AaronWood
(Disgraceful Bernard’s curatehe):
   He was extremely good.

A Bayard in hismoral pluck
   Without reproach or fear,
A quiet venerable duck
   With fifty pounds a year.

No fault had he—no fad, except
   A tendency to strum,
In mode at which you would have wept,
   A dull harmonium.

He had no gold with which to hire
   The minstrels who could best
Convey a notion of the fire
   That raged within his breast.

And so, when Cooteand Tinney’s Own
   Had tootled all they knew,
And when the Guards, completely blown,
   Exhaustedly withdrew,

And Nell began tosleepy feel,
   Poor Aaron then wouldcome,
And underneath her window wheel
   His plain harmonium.

He woke her every morn at two,
   And having gained her ear,
In vivid colours Aaron drew
   The sluggard’s grim career.

He warbled Apiarian praise,
   And taught her in his chant
To shun the dog’s pugnacious ways,
   And imitate the ant.

Still Nell seemednot, how much he played,
   To love him out and out,
Although the admirable maid
   Respected him, no doubt.

She told him of her early vow,
   And said as Bernard’s wife
It might be hers to show him how
   To rectify his life.

“You are so pure, so kind, so true,
   Your goodness shines so bright,
What use would Ellen be to you?
   Believe me, you’re all right.”

She wished him happiness and health,
   And flew on lightning wings
To Bernard with his dangerouswealth
   And all the woes it brings.

p.317BRAVE ALUM BEY

Oh, big was thebosom of brave Alum Bey,
And also the region that under it lay,
In safety and peril remarkably cool,
And he dwelt on the banks of the river Stamboul.

Each morning he went to his garden, to cull
A bunch of zenana or sprig of bul-bul,
And offered the bouquet, in exquisite bloom,
To Backsheesh, the daughter of Rahat Lakoum.

No maiden like Backsheesh could tastily cook
A kettle of kismet or joint of tchibouk,
As Alum, brave fellow! sat pensivelyby,
With a bright sympathetic ka-bob in his eye.

Stern duty compelled him to leave her oneday—
(A ship’s supercargo was brave AlumBey)—
To pretty young Backsheesh he made asalaam,
And sailed to the isle of Seringapatam.

“O Alum,” said she, “think again,ere you go—
Hareems may arise and Moguls they may blow;
You may strike on a fez, or be drowned, which is wuss!”
But Alum embraced her and spoke to herthus:

“Cease weeping, fair Backsheesh!  I willingly swear
Cork jackets and trousers I always will wear,
And I also throw in a large number of oaths
That I never—no, never—will take off myclothes!”

* * * *

They left Madagascar away on their right,
And made Clapham Common the following night,
Then lay on their oars for a fortnight or two,
Becalmed in the ocean of Honololu.

One day Alum saw,with alarm in his breast,
A cloud on the nor-sow-sow-nor-sow-nor-west;
The wind it arose, and the crew gave a scream,
For they knew it—they knew it!—the dreadedHareem!!

The mast it went over, and so did the sails,
Brave Alum threw over his casks andhis bales;
The billows arose as the weather grew thick,
And all except Alum were terriblysick.

The crew were but three, but theyholloa’d for nine,
They howled and they blubbered with wail and with whine:
The skipper he fainted away in the fore,
For he hadn’t the heart for to skip any more.

“Ho, coward!” said Alum, “with heart of a child!
Thou son of a party whose grave is defiled!
Is Alum in terror? is Alum afeard?
Ho! ho!  If you had one I’d laugh at yourbeard.”

His eyeball it gleamed like a furnace ofcoke;
He boldly inflated his clothes as he spoke;
He daringly felt for the corks on his chest,
And he recklessly tightened the belt at his breast.

For he knew, the brave Alum, that, happen what might,
With belts and cork-jacketing, hewas all right;
Though others might sink, he was certain to swim,—
No Hareem whatever had terrors for him!

They begged him to spare from his personalstore
A single cork garment—they asked for no more;
But he couldn’t, because of the number of oaths
That he never—no, never!—would take off hisclothes.

The billows dash o’er them and topplearound,
They see they are pretty near sure to be drowned.
A terrible wave o’er the quarter-deck breaks,
And the vessel it sinks in a couple of shakes!

The dreadful Hareem, though it knows how toblow,
Expends all its strength in a minute or so;
When the vessel had foundered, as I have detailed,
The tempest subsided, and quiet prevailed.

One seized on a cork with a yelling “Ha!ha!”
(Its bottle had ’prisoned a pint of Pacha)—
Another a toothpick—another a tray—
“Alas! it is useless!” said brave Alum Bey.

“To holloa and kick is a very badplan:
Get it over, my tulips, as soon as you can;
You’d better lay hold of a good lump of lead,
And cling to it tightly until you are dead.

“Just raise your hands over your prettyheads—so—
Right down to the bottom you’re certain to go.
Ta! ta!  I’m afraid we shall not meetagain”—
For the truly courageous are truly humane.

Brave Alum waspicked up the very next day—
A man-o’-war sighted him smoking away;
With hunger and cold he was ready to drop,
So they sent him below and they gave him a chop.

O reader, or readress, whichever you be,
You weep for the crew who have sunk in the sea?
O reader, or readress, read farther, and dry
The bright sympathetic ka-bob in your eye.

That ship had a grapple with three ironspikes,—
It’s lowered, and, ha! on a something it strikes!
They haul it aboard with a British “heave-ho!”
And what it has fished the drawing will show.

There was Wilson,and Parker, and Tomlinson, too—
(The first was the captain, the others the crew)—
As lively and spry as a Malabar ape,
Quite pleased and surprised at their happy escape.

And Alum, bravefellow, who stood in the fore,
And never expected to look on them more,
Was really delighted to see them again,
For the truly courageous are truly humane.

p. 324SIRBARNABY BAMPTON BOO

This is Sir Barnaby Bampton Boo,
   Last of a noble race,
Barnaby Bampton, coming to woo,
   All at a deuce of a pace.
           Barnaby Bampton Boo,
           Here is a health to you:
      Here is wishing you luck, youelderly buck—
           Barnaby Bampton Boo!

The excellent women of Tuptonvee
   Knew Sir Barnaby Boo;
One of them surely his bride would be,
   But dickens a soul knew who.
           Women of Tuptonvee,
           Here is a health to ye
      For a Baronet, dears, you wouldcut off your ears,
           Women of Tuptonvee!

Here are old Mr. andMrs. de Plow
   (Peter his Christianname),
They kept seven oxen, a pig, and a cow—
   Farming it was their game.
           Worthy old Peter de Plow,
           Here is a health to thou:
      Your race isn’t run, thoughyou’re seventy-one,
           Worthy old Peter de Plow!

To excellent Mr. andMrs. de Plow
   Came Sir Barnaby Boo,
He asked for their daughter, and told ’em as how
   He was as rich as a Jew.
           Barnaby Bampton’s wealth,
           Here is your jolly good health:
      I’d never repine if you cameto be mine,
           Barnaby Bampton’s wealth!

“O great Sir BarnabyBampton Boo”
   (Said Plow to that titledswell),
“My missus has given me daughters two—
   Amelia and Volatile Nell!”
           Amelia and Volatile Nell,
           I hope you’re uncommonly well:
      You two pretty pearls—youextremely nice girls—
           Amelia and Volatile Nell!

“Amelia ispassable only, in face,
   But, oh! she’s a worthy girl;
Superior morals like hers would grace
   The home of a belted Earl.”
           Morality, heavenly link!
           To you I’ll eternally drink:
      I’m awfully fond of thatheavenly bond,
           Morality, heavenly link!

“Now Nelly’s the prettier, p’raps, ofmy gals,
   But, oh! she’s a wayward chit;
She dresses herself in her showy fal-lals,
   And doesn’t read Tupper a bit!”
           O Tupper, philosopher true,
           How do you happen to do?
      A publisher looks with respect onyour books,
           For they dosell, philosopher true!

The Bart.  (I’ll be hanged if Idrink him again,
   Or care if he’s ill or well),
He sneered at the goodness of Milly thePlain,
   And cottoned to VolatileNell!
           O Volatile Nelly de P.!
           Be hanged if I’ll empty to thee:
      I like worthy maids, not merefrivolous jades,
           Volatile Nelly de P.!

They bolted, the Bart. and his frivolousdear,
   And Milly was left topout;
For years they’ve got on very well, as I hear,
   But soon he will rue it, no doubt.
           O excellent Milly de Plow,
           I really can’t drink to you now;
      My head isn’t strong, andthe song has been long,
           Excellent Milly de Plow!

p. 330THEMODEST COUPLE

When man and maidenmeet, I like to see a drooping eye,
I always droop my own—I am the shyest of the shy.
I’m also fond of bashfulness, and sitting down onthorns,
For modesty’s a quality that womankind adorns.

Whenever I am introduced to any pretty maid,
My knees they knock together, just as if I were afraid;
I flutter, and I stammer, and I turn a pleasing red,
For to laugh, and flirt, and ogle I consider most ill-bred.

But still in all these matters, as in otherthings below,
There is a proper medium, as I’m about to show.
I do not recommend a newly-married pair to try
To carry on as Peter carried on withSarah Bligh.

Betrothed they were when veryyoung—before they’d learnt to speak
(For Sarah was but six days old, andPeter was a week);
Though little more than babies at those early ages, yet
They bashfully would faint when they occasionally met.

They blushed, and flushed, and fainted, tillthey reached the age of nine,
When Peter’s good papa (he was aBaron of the Rhine)
Determined to endeavour some sound argument to find
To bring these shy young people to a proper frame of mind.

He told them that as Sarah was to be his Peter’s bride,
They might at least consent to sit at table side by side;
He begged that they would now and then shake hands, till he washoarse,
Which Sarah thought indelicate, andPeter very coarse.

And Peter in atremble to the blushing maid would say,
“You must excuse papa, MissBligh,—it is his mountain way.”
Says Sarah, “His behaviourI’ll endeavour to forget,
But your papa’s the coarsest person that I ever met.

“He plighted us without our leave, whenwe were very young,
Before we had begun articulating with the tongue.
His underbred suggestions fill your Sarah with alarm;
Why, gracious me! he’ll ask us next to walk outarm-in-arm!”

At length when Sarahreached the legal age of twenty-one,
The Baron he determined to unite her to his son;
And Sarah in a fainting-fit for weeksunconscious lay,
And Peter blushed so hard you mighthave heard him miles away.

And when the time arrived for taking Sarah to his heart,
They were married in two churches half-a-dozen miles apart
(Intending to escape all public ridicule and chaff),
And the service was conducted by electric telegraph.

And when it was concluded, and the priest hadsaid his say,
Until the time arrived when they were both to drive away,
They never spoke or offered for to fondle or to fawn,
For hewaited in the attic, and shewaited on thelawn.

At length, when four o’clock arrived, andit was time to go,
The carriage was announced, but decent Sarah answered “No!
Upon my word, I’d rather sleep my everlasting nap,
Than go and ride alone with Mr. Peterin a trap.”

And Peter’sover-sensitive and highly-polished mind
Wouldn’t suffer him to sanction a proceeding of thekind;
And further, he declared he suffered overwhelming shocks
At the bare idea of having any coachman on the box.

So Peter into oneturn-out incontinently rushed,
While Sarah in a second trap satmodestly and blushed;
And Mr. Newman’s coachman, onauthority I’ve heard,
Drove away in gallant style upon the coach-box of a third.

Now, though this modest couple in the matter ofthe car
Were very likely carrying a principle too far,
I hold their shy behaviour was more laudable in them
Than that of Peter’s brotherwith Miss Sarah’s sister Em.

Alphonso, who incool assurance all creation licks,
He up and said to Emmie (who hadimpudence for six),
“Miss Emily, I loveyou—will you marry?  Say the word!”
And Emily said, “Certainly,Alphonso, like a bird!”

I do not recommend a newly-married pair totry
To carry on as Peter carried on withSarah Bligh,
But still their shy behaviour was more laudable in them
Than that of Peter’s brotherwith Miss Sarah’s sister Em.

p. 338THEMARTINET

Some time ago, insimple verse
   I sang the story true
Of Captain Reece, theMantelpiece,
   And all her happy crew.

I showed how any captain may
   Attach his men to him,
If he but heeds their smallest needs,
   And studies every whim.

Now mark how, by Draconic rule
   And hauteurill-advised,
The noblest crew upon the Blue
   May be demoralized.

When his ungrateful country placed
   Kind Reece uponhalf-pay,
Without much claim Sir Berkelycame,
   And took command one day.

Sir Berkely was amartinet—
   A stern unyielding soul—
Who ruled his ship by dint of whip
   And horrible black-hole.

A sailor who was overcome
   From having freely dined,
And chanced to reel when at the wheel,
   He instantly confined!

And tars who, when an action raged,
   Appeared alarmed or scared,
And those below who wished to go,
   He very seldom spared.

E’en he who smote his officer
   For punishment was booked,
And mutinies upon the seas
   He rarely overlooked.

In short, the happy Mantelpiece,
   Where all had gone so well,
Beneath that fool Sir Berkely’srule
   Became a floating hell.

When first SirBerkely came aboard
   He read a speech to all,
And told them how he’d made a vow
   To act on duty’s call.

Then William Lee, heup and said
   (The Captain’s coxswain he),
“We’ve heard the speech your honour’s made,
   And werry pleased we be.

“We won’t pretend, my lad, ashow
   We’re glad to lose our Reece;
Urbane, polite, he suited quite
   The saucy Mantelpiece.

“But if your honour gives your mind
   To study all our ways,
With dance and song we’ll jog along
   As in those happy days.

“I like your honour’s looks, andfeel
   You’re worthy of your sword.
Your hand, my lad—I’m doosid glad
   To welcome you aboard!”

Sir Berkely lookedamazed, as though
   He didn’t understand.
“Don’t shake your head,” good William said,
   “It is an honest hand.

“It’s grasped a better hand thanyourn—
   Come, gov’nor, I insist!”
The Captain stared—the coxswain glared—
   The hand became a fist!

“Down, upstart!” said the hardysalt;
   But Berkely dodged hisaim,
And made him go in chains below:
   The seamen murmured “Shame!”

He stopped all songs at 12 p.m.,
   Stopped hornpipes when at sea,
And swore his cot (or bunk) should not
   Be used by aught than he.

He never joined their daily mess,
   Nor asked them to his own,
But chaffed in gay and social way
   The officers alone.

His First Lieutenant, Peter, was
   As useless as could be,
A helpless stick, and always sick
   When there was any sea.

This First Lieutenant proved to be
   His foster-sister May,
Who went to sea for love of he
   In masculine array.

And when he learnt the curious fact,
   Did he emotion show,
Or dry her tears or end her fears
   By marrying her?  No!

Or did he even try to soothe
   This maiden in her teens?
Oh, no!—instead he made her wed
   The Sergeant of Marines!

Of course such Spartan discipline
   Would make an angel fret;
They drew a lot, and William shot
   This fearful martinet.

The Admiralty saw how ill
   They’d treated CaptainReece;
He was restored once more aboard
   The saucy Mantelpiece.

p. 348THESAILOR BOY TO HIS LASS

I go away thisblessed day,
   To sail across the sea, Matilda!
My vessel starts for various parts
   At twenty after three, Matilda.
I hardly know where we may go,
   Or if it’s near or far, Matilda,
For Captain Hyde does not confide
   In any ’fore-mast tar, Matilda!

Beneath my ban that mystic man
   Shall suffer, coûte qui coûte,Matilda!
What right has he to keep from me
   The Admiralty route, Matilda?
Because, forsooth! I am a youth
   Of common sailors’ lot, Matilda!
Am I a man on human plan
   Designed, or am I not, Matilda?

But there, my lass, we’ll let thatpass!
   With anxious love I burn, Matilda.
I want to know if we shall go
   To church when I return, Matilda?
Your eyes are red, you bow your head;
   It’s pretty clear you thirst, Matilda,
To name the day—What’s that you say?—
   “You’ll see me further first,”Matilda?

I can’t mistake the signs you make,
   Although you barely speak, Matilda;
Though pure and young, you thrust your tongue
   Right in your pretty cheek, Matilda!
My dear, I fear I hear you sneer—
   I do—I’m sure I do, Matilda!
With simple grace you make a face,
   Ejaculating, “Ugh!” Matilda.

Oh, pause to think before you drink
   The dregs of Lethe’s cup, Matilda!
Remember, do, what I’ve gone through,
   Before you give me up, Matilda!
Recall again the mental pain
   Of what I’ve had to do, Matilda!
And be assured that I’ve endured
   It, all along of you, Matilda!

Do you forget, my blithesome pet,
   How once with jealous rage, Matilda,
I watched you walk and gaily talk
   With some one thrice your age, Matilda?
You squatted free upon his knee,
   A sight that made me sad, Matilda!
You pinched his cheek with friendly tweak,
   Which almost drove me mad, Matilda!

I knew him not, but hoped to spot
   Some man you thought to wed, Matilda!
I took a gun, my darling one,
   And shot him through the head, Matilda!
I’m made of stuff that’s rough and gruff
   Enough, I own; but, ah, Matilda!
It didannoy your sailor boy
   To find it was your pa, Matilda!

I’ve passed a life of toil and strife,
   And disappointments deep, Matilda;
I’ve lain awake with dental ache
   Until I fell asleep, Matilda!
At times again I’ve missed a train,
   Or p’rhaps run short of tin, Matilda,
And worn a boot on corns that shoot,
   Or, shaving, cut my chin, Matilda.

But, oh! no trains—no dentalpains—
   Believe me when I say, Matilda,
No corns that shoot—no pinching boot
   Upon a summer day, Matilda—
It’s my belief, could cause such grief
   As that I’ve suffered for, Matilda,
My having shot in vital spot
   Your old progenitor, Matilda.

Bethink you how I’ve kept the vow
   I made one winter day, Matilda—
That, come what could, I never would
   Remain too long away, Matilda.
And, oh! the crimes with which, at times,
   I’ve charged my gentle mind, Matilda,
To keep the vow I made—and now
   You treat me so unkind, Matilda!

For when at sea, off Caribbee,
   I felt my passion burn, Matilda,
By passion egged, I went and begged
   The captain to return, Matilda.
And when, my pet, I couldn’t get
   That captain to agree, Matilda,
Right through a sort of open port
   I pitched him in the sea, Matilda!

Remember, too, how all the crew
   With indignation blind, Matilda,
Distinctly swore they ne’er before
   Had thought me so unkind, Matilda.
And how they’d shun me one by one—
   An unforgiving group, Matilda—
I stopped their howls and sulky scowls
   By pizening their soup, Matilda!

So pause to think, before you drink
   The dregs of Lethe’s cup, Matilda;
Remember, do, what I’ve gone through,
   Before you give me up, Matilda.
Recall again the mental pain
   Of what I’ve had to do, Matilda,
And be assured that I’ve endured
   It, all along of you, Matilda!

p. 356THEREVEREND SIMON MAGUS

A rich advowson,highly prized,
For private sale was advertised;
And many a parson made a bid;
The Reverend Simon Magus did.

He sought the agent’s: “Agent, I
Have come prepared at once to buy
(If your demand is not too big)
The Cure of Otium-cum-Digge.”

“Ah!” said the agent,“there’sa berth—
The snuggest vicarage on earth;
No sort of duty (so I hear),
And fifteen hundred pounds a year!

“If on the price we should agree,
The living soon will vacant be;
The good incumbent’s ninety five,
And cannot very long survive.

“See—here’s hisphotograph—you see,
He’s in his dotage.”  “Ah, dear me!
Poor soul!” said Simon. “His decease
Would be a merciful release!”

The agent laughed—the agentblinked—
The agent blew his nose and winked—
And poked the parson’s ribs in play—
It was that agent’s vulgar way.

The Reverend Simonfrowned: “I grieve
This light demeanour to perceive;
It’s scarcely comme il faut, I think:
Now—pray oblige me—do not wink.

“Don’t dig my waistcoat intoholes—
Your mission is to sell the souls
Of human sheep and human kids
To that divine who highest bids.

“Do well in this, and on your head
Unnumbered honours will be shed.”
The agent said, “Well, truth to tell,
I havebeen doing very well.”

“You should,” said Simon, “at your age;
But now about the parsonage.
How many rooms does it contain?
Show me the photograph again.

“A poor apostle’s humble house
Must not be too luxurious;
No stately halls with oaken floor—
It should be decent and no more.

“No billiard-rooms—no statelytrees—
No croquêt-grounds or pineries.”
“Ah!” sighed the agent, “very true:
This property won’t do for you.”

“All these about the house you’llfind.”—
“Well,” said the parson, “never mind;
I’ll manage to submit to these
Luxurious superfluities.

“A clergyman who does not shirk
The various calls of Christian work,
Will have no leisure to employ
These ‘common forms’ of worldly joy.

“To preach three times on Sabbathdays—
To wean the lost from wicked ways—
The sick to soothe—the sane to wed—
The poor to feed with meat and bread;

“These are the various wholesome ways
In which I’ll spend my nights and days:
My zeal will have no time to cool
At croquet, archery, or pool.”

The agent said, “From what I hear,
This living will not suit, I fear—
There are no poor, no sick at all;
For services there is no call.”

The reverend gent looked grave, “Dearme!
Then there is no‘society’?—
I mean, of course, no sinners there
Whose souls will be my special care?”

The cunning agent shook his head,
“No, none—except”—(the agentsaid)—
“The Duke of A., the Earl of B.,
The Marquis C., and Viscount D.

“But you will not be quite alone,
For though they’ve chaplains of their own,
Of course this noble well-bred clan
Receive the parish clergyman.”

“Oh, silence, sir!” said Simon M.,
“Dukes—Earls!  What should I care for them?
These worldly ranks I scorn and flout!”
“Of course,” the agent said, “nodoubt!”

“Yet I might show these men of birth
The hollowness of rank on earth.”
The agent answered, “Very true—
But I should not, if I were you.”

“Who sells this rich advowson,pray?”
The agent winked—it was his way—
“His name is Hart; ’twixtme and you,
He is, I’m grieved to say, a Jew!”

“A Jew?” said Simon, “happy find!
I purchase this advowson, mind.
My life shall be devoted to
Converting that unhappy Jew!”

p.363DAMON v.PYTHIAS

Two better friendsyou wouldn’t pass
   Throughout a summer’s day,
Than Damon and his Pythias,—
   Two merchant princes they.

At school together they contrived
   All sorts of boyish larks;
And, later on, together thrived
   As merry merchants’ clerks.

And then, when many years had flown,
   They rose together till
They bought a business of their own—
   And they conduct it still.

They loved each other all their lives,
   Dissent they never knew,
And, stranger still, their very wives
   Were rather friendly too.

Perhaps you think, to serve my ends,
   These statements I refute,
When I admit that these dear friends
   Were parties to a suit?

But ’twas a friendly action, for
   Good Pythias, as yousee,
Fought merely as executor,
   And Damon as trustee.

They laughed to think, as through the throng
   Of suitors sad they passed,
That they, who’d lived and loved so long,
   Should go to law at last.

The junior briefs they kindly let
   Two sucking counsel hold;
These learned persons never yet
   Had fingered suitors’ gold.

But though the happy suitors two
   Were friendly as could be,
Not so the junior counsel who
   Were earning maiden fee.

They too, till then, were friends.  Atschool
   They’d done each other’s sums,
And under Oxford’s gentle rule
   Had been the closest chums.

But now they met with scowl and grin
   In every public place,
And often snapped their fingers in
   Each other’s learned face.

It almost ended in a fight
   When they on path or stair
Met face to face.  They made it quite
   A personal affair.

And when at length the case was called
   (It came on rather late),
Spectators really were appalled
   To see their deadly hate.

One junior rose—with eyeballs tense,
   And swollen frontal veins:
To all his powers of eloquence
   He gave the fullest reins.

His argument was novel—for
   A verdict he relied
On blackening the junior
   Upon the other side.

“Oh,” said the Judge, in robe andfur,
   “The matter in dispute
To arbitration pray refer—
   This is a friendly suit.”

And Pythias, inmerry mood,
   Digged Damon in theside;
And Damon, tickled with the feud,
   With other digs replied.

But oh! those deadly counsel twain,
   Who were such friends before,
Were never reconciled again—
   They quarrelled more and more.

At length it happened that they met
   On Alpine heights one day,
And thus they paid each one his debt,
   Their fury had its way—

They seized each other in a trice,
   With scorn and hatred filled,
And, falling from a precipice,
   They, both of them, were killed.

p. 368MYDREAM

The other night,from cares exempt,
I slept—and what d’you think I dreamt?
I dreamt that somehow I had come
To dwell in Topsy-Turveydom—

Where vice is virtue—virtue, vice:
Where nice is nasty—nasty, nice:
Where right is wrong and wrong is right—
Where white is black and black is white.

Where babies, much to their surprise,
Are born astonishingly wise;
With every Science on their lips,
And Art at all their finger-tips.

For, as their nurses dandle them
They crow binomial theorem,
With views (it seems absurd to us)
On differential calculus.

But though a babe, as I have said,
Is born with learning in his head,
He must forget it, if he can,
Before he calls himself a man.

For that which we call folly here,
Is wisdom in that favoured sphere;
The wisdom we so highly prize
Is blatant folly in their eyes.

A boy, if he would push his way,
Must learn some nonsense every day;
And cut, to carry out this view,
His wisdom teeth and wisdom too.

Historians burn their midnight oils,
Intent on giant-killers’ toils;
And sages close their aged eyes
To other sages’ lullabies.

Ourmagistrates, in duty bound,
Commit all robbers who are found;
But there the Beaks (so people said)
Commit all robberies instead.

OurJudges, pure and wise in tone,
Know crime from theory alone,
And glean the motives of a thief
From books and popular belief.

But there, a Judge who wants to prime
His mind with true ideas of crime,
Derives them from the common sense
Of practical experience.

Policemen march all folks away
Who practise virtue every day—
Of course, I mean to say, you know,
What we call virtue here below.

For only scoundrels dare to do
What we consider just and true,
And only good men do, in fact,
What we should think a dirty act.

But strangest of these social twirls,
The girls are boys—the boys are girls!
The men are women, too—but then,
Per contra, women all are men.

To one who to tradition clings
This seems an awkward state of things,
But if to think it out you try,
It doesn’t really signify.

With them, as surely as can be,
A sailor should be sick at sea,
And not a passenger may sail
Who cannot smoke right through a gale.

A soldier (save by rarest luck)
Is always shot for showing pluck
(That is, if others can be found
With pluck enough to fire a round).

“How strange!” I said to one Isaw;
“You quite upset our every law.
However can you get along
So systematically wrong?”

“Dear me!” my mad informantsaid,
“Have you no eyes within your head?
You sneer when you your hat should doff:
Why, we begin where you leave off!

“Your wisest men are very far
Less learned than our babies are!”
I mused awhile—and then, oh me!
I framed this brilliant repartee:

“Although your babes are wiser far
Than our most valued sages are,
Your sages, with their toys and cots,
Are duller than our idiots!”

But this remark, I grieve to state,
Came just a little bit too late
For as I framed it in my head,
I woke and found myself in bed.

Still I could wish that, ’stead ofhere,
My lot were in that favoured sphere!—
Where greatest fools bear off the bell
I ought to do extremely well.

p. 376THEBISHOP OF RUM-TI-FOO AGAIN

I often wonderwhether you
Think sometimes of that Bishop, who
From black but balmy Rum-ti-Foo
         Last summertwelvemonth came.
Unto your mind I p’r’aps may bring
Remembrance of the man I sing
To-day, by simply mentioning
         That Peter was his name.

Remember how that holy man
Came with the great Colonial clan
To Synod, called Pan-Anglican;
         And kindlyrecollect
How, having crossed the ocean wide,
To please his flock all means he tried
Consistent with a proper pride
         And manlyself-respect.

He only, of the reverend pack
Who minister to Christians black,
Brought any useful knowledge back
         To his Colonialfold.
In consequence a place I claim
For “Peter” on the scrollof Fame
(For Peter was that Bishop’sname,
         As I’vealready told).

He carried Art, he often said,
To places where that timid maid
(Save by Colonial Bishops’ aid)
         Could never hopeto roam.
The Payne-cum-Lauri feat he taught
As he had learnt it; for he thought
The choicest fruits of Progress ought
         To bless theNegro’s home.

And he had other work to do,
For, while he tossed upon the Blue,
The islanders of Rum-ti-Foo
         Forgot theirkindly friend.
Their decent clothes they learnt to tear—
They learnt to say, “I do not care,”
Though they, of course, were well aware
         How folks, whosay so, end.

Some sailors, whom he did not know,
Had landed there not long ago,
And taught them “Bother!” also,“Blow!”
         (Of wickednessthe germs).
No need to use a casuist’s pen
To prove that they were merchantmen;
No sailor of the Royal N.
         Would use suchawful terms.

And so, when BishopPeter came
(That was the kindly Bishop’s name),
He heard these dreadful oaths with shame,
         And chid theirwant of dress.
(Except a shell—a bangle rare—
A feather here—a feather there
The South Pacific Negroes wear
         Their nativenothingness.)

He taught them that a Bishop loathes
To listen to disgraceful oaths,
He gave them all his left-off clothes—
         They bent themto his will.
The Bishop’s gift spreads quickly round;
In Peter’s left-off clothes theybound
(His three-and-twenty suits they found
         In faircondition still).

The Bishop’s eyes with water fill,
Quite overjoyed to find them still
Obedient to his sovereign will,
         And said,“Good Rum-ti-Foo!
Half-way I’ll meet you, I declare:
I’ll dress myself in cowries rare,
And fasten feathers in my hair,
         And dance the‘Cutch-chi-boo!’”

And to conciliate his See
He married Piccadillillee,
The youngest of his twenty-three,
        Tall—neither fat nor thin.
(And though the dress he made her don
Looks awkwardly a girl upon,
It was a great improvement on
         The one he foundher in.)

The Bishop in his gay canoe
(His wife, of course, went with him too)
To some adjacent island flew,
         To spend hishoneymoon.
Some day in sunny Rum-ti-Foo
A little Peter’ll be on view;
And that (if people tell me true)
         Is like tohappen soon.

p. 383AWORM WILL TURN

I love a manwho’ll smile and joke
      When with misfortune crowned;
Who’ll pun beneath a pauper’s yoke,
And as he breaks his daily toke,
      Conundrums gay propound.

Just such a man was BernardJupp,
      He scoffed at Fortune’sfrown;
He gaily drained his bitter cup—
Though Fortune often threw him up,
      It never cast him down.

Though years their share of sorrow bring,
      We know that far above
All other griefs, are griefs that spring
From some misfortune happening
      To those we really love.

E’en sorrow for another’s woe
      Our Bernard failed to quell;
Though by this special form of blow
No person ever suffered so,
      Or bore his grief so well.

His father, wealthy and well clad,
      And owning house and park,
Lost every halfpenny he had,
And then became (extremely sad!)
      A poor attorney’s clerk.

All sons it surely would appal,
      Except the passing meek,
To see a father lose his all,
And from an independence fall
      To one pound ten a week!

But Jupp shook offthis sorrow’s weight,
      And, like a Christian son,
Proved Poverty a happy fate—
Proved Wealth to be a devil’s bait,
      To lure poor sinners on.

With other sorrows Bernard coped,
      For sorrows came in packs;
His cousins with their housemaids sloped—
His uncles forged—his aunts eloped—
      His sisters married blacks.

But Bernard, farfrom murmuring
      (Exemplar, friends, to us),
Determined to his faith to cling,—
He made the best of everything,
      And argued softly thus:

“’Twere harsh my uncles’forging knack
      Too rudely to condemn—
My aunts, repentant, may come back,
And blacks are nothing like as black
      As people colour them!”

Still Fate, with many a sorrow rife,
      Maintained relentless fight:
His grandmamma next lost her life,
Then died the mother of his wife,
      But still he seemed all right.

His brother fond (the only link
      To life that bound him now)
One morning, overcome by drink,
He broke his leg (the right, I think)
      In some disgraceful row.

But did my Bernardswear and curse?
      Oh no—to murmur loth,
He only said, “Go, get a nurse:
Be thankful that it isn’t worse;
      You might have brokenboth!”

But worms who watch without concern
      The cockchafer on thorns,
Or beetles smashed, themselves will turn
If, walking through the slippery fern,
      You tread upon their corns.

One night as Bernardmade his track
      Through Brompton home to bed,
A footpad, with a vizor black,
Took watch and purse, and dealt a crack
      On Bernard’s saint-like head.

It was too much—his spirit rose,
      He looked extremely cross.
Men thought him steeled to mortal foes,
But no—he bowed to countless blows,
      But kicked against this loss.

He finally made up his mind
      Upon his friends to call;
Subscription lists were largely signed,
For men were really glad to find
      Him mortal, after all!

p. 391THEHAUGHTY ACTOR

   Anactor—Gibbs, of DruryLane—
      Of very decent station,
   Once happened in a part to gain
      Excessive approbation:
   It sometimes turns a fellow’s brain
   And makes him singularly vain
When he believes that he receives
      Tremendous approbation.

   His great success half drovehim mad,
      But no one seemed to mind him;
   Well, in another piece he had
      Another part assigned him.
   This part was smaller, by a bit,
   Than that in which he made a hit.
So, much ill-used, he straight refused
      To play the part assigned him.

* * * * * * *

That night that actor slept, andI’ll attempt
To tell you of the vivid dream he dreamt.

THE DREAM.

   In fighting with a robberband
      (A thing he loved sincerely)
   A sword struck Gibbs uponthe hand,
      And wounded it severely.
   At first he didn’t heed it much,
   He thought it was a simple touch,
But soon he found the weapon’s bound
      Had wounded him severely.

   To Surgeon Cobb he made a trip,
      Who’d just effectedfeatly
   An amputation at the hip
      Particularly neatly.
   A rising man was Surgeon Cobb
   But this extremely ticklish job
He had achieved (as he believed)
      Particularly neatly.

   The actor rang thesurgeon’s bell.
      “Observe my woundedfinger,
   Be good enough to strap it well,
      And prithee do not linger.
   That I, dear sir, may fill again
   The Theatre Royal Drury Lane:
This very night I have to fight—
      So prithee do notlinger.”

   “I don’t strapfingers up for doles,”
      Replied the haughty surgeon;
   “To use your cant, I don’t playrôles
      Utility that verge on.
   First amputation—nothing less—
   That is my line of business:
We surgeon nobs despise all jobs
      Utility that verge on

   “When in your hip therelurks disease”
      (So dreamt this livelydreamer),
   “Or devastating caries
      In humerusorfemur,
   If you can pay a handsome fee,
   Oh, then you may remember me—
With joy elate I’ll amputate
      Your humerusorfemur.”

   The disconcerted actorceased
      The haughty leech to pester,
   But when the wound in size increased,
      And then began to fester,
   He sought a learned Counsel’s lair,
   And told that Counsel, then and there,
How Cobb’s neglect of hisdefect
      Had made his finger fester.

   “Oh, bring my action,if you please,
      The case I pray you urge on,
   And win me thumping damages
      From Cobb, that haughty surgeon.
   He culpably neglected me
   Although I proffered him his fee,
So pray come down, in wig and gown,
      On Cobb, that haughty surgeon!”

   That Counsel learned in thelaws,
      With passion almost trembled.
   He just had gained a mighty cause
      Before the Peers assembled!
   Said he, “How dare you have the face
   To come with Common Jury case
To one who wings rhetoric flings
      Before the Peersassembled?”

   Dispirited became ourfriend—
      Depressed his moralpecker—
   “But stay! a thought!—I’ll gain myend,
      And save my poor exchequer.
   I won’t be placed upon the shelf,
   I’ll take it into Court myself,
And legal lore display before
      The Court of theExchequer.”

   He found a Baron—one ofthose
      Who with our laws supplyus—
   In wig and silken gown and hose,
      As if at Nisi Prius.
   But he’d just given, off the reel,
   A famous judgment on Appeal:
It scarce became his heightened fame
      To sit at Nisi Prius.

   Our friend began, with easywit,
      That half concealed his terror:
   “Pooh!” said the Judge, “I onlysit
      In Bancoor in Error.
   Can you suppose, my man, that I’d
   O’er Nisi PriusCourts preside,
Or condescend my time to spend
      On anything but Error?”

   “Too bad,” saidGibbs, “my case to shirk!
      You must be bad innately,
   To save your skill for mighty work
      Because it’s valuedgreatly!”
   But here he woke, with sudden start.

* * * * * * *

   He wrote to say he’dplay the part.
I’ve but to tell he played it well—
   The author’s words—his native wit
   Combined, achieved a perfect“hit”—
         The paperspraised him greatly.

p. 399THETWO MAJORS

An excellent soldierwho’s worthy the name
   Loves officers dashing and strict:
When good, he’s content with escaping all blame,
   When naughty, he likes to be licked.

He likes for a fault to be bullied andstormed,
   Or imprisoned for several days,
And hates, for a duty correctly performed,
   To be slavered with sickening praise.

No officer sickened with praises hiscorps
   So little as Major LaGuerre—
No officer swore at his warriors more
   Than Major MakrediPrepere.

Their soldiers adored them, and every grade
   Delighted to hear their abuse;
Though whenever these officers came on parade
   They shivered and shook in their shoes.

For, oh! if LaGuerre could all praises withhold,
   Why, so could MakrediPrepere,
And, oh! if Makredi could bluster andscold,
   Why, so could the mighty LaGuerre.

“No doubt we deserve it—no mercy wecrave—
   Go on—you’re conferring a boon;
We would rather be slanged by a warrior brave,
   Than praised by a wretched poltroon!”

Makredi would saythat in battle’s fierce rage
   True happiness only was met:
Poor Major Makredi, though fifty hisage,
   Had never known happiness yet!

La Guerre woulddeclare, “With the blood of a foe
   No tipple is worthy to clink.”
Poor fellow! he hadn’t, though sixty or so,
   Yet tasted his favourite drink!

They agreed at their mess—they agreed inthe glass—
   They agreed in the choice of their“set,”
And they also agreed in adoring, alas!
   The Vivandière, pretty Fillette.

Agreement, you see, may be carried too far,
   And after agreeing all round
For years—in this soldierly “maid of thebar,”
   A bone of contention they found!

It may seem improper to call such apet—
   By a metaphor, even—a bone;
But though they agreed in adoring her, yet
   Each wanted to make her his own.

“On the day that you marry her,”muttered Prepere
   (With a pistol he quietly played),
“I’ll scatter the brains in your noddle, I swear,
   All over the stony parade!”

“I cannot do thatto you,”answered La Guerre,
   “Whatever events may befall;
But this I cando—if youwed her, moncher!
   I’ll eat you, moustachios and all!”

The rivals, although they would neverengage,
   Yet quarrelled whenever they met;
They met in a fury and left in a rage,
   But neither took pretty Fillette.

“I am not afraid,” thought Makredi Prepere:
   “For country I’m ready to fall;
But nobody wants, for a mere Vivandière,
   To be eaten, moustachios and all!

“Besides, though LaGuerre has his faults, I’ll allow
   He’s one of the bravest of men:
My goodness! if I disagree with him now,
   I might disagree with him then.”

“No coward am I,” said La Guerre, “as you guess—
   I sneer at an enemy’s blade;
But I don’t want Prepere to getinto a mess
   For splashing the stony parade!”

One day on parade to Prepere and LaGuerre
   Came Corporal JacotDebette,
And trembling all over, he prayed of them there
   To give him the pretty Fillette.

“You see, I am willing to marry mybride
   Until you’ve arranged this affair;
I will blow out my brains when your honours decide
   Which marries the sweetVivandière!”

“Well, take her,” said both of themin a duet
   (A favourite form of reply),
“But when I am ready to marry Fillette.
   Remember you’ve promised to die!”

He married her then: from the flowery plains
   Of existence the roses they cull:
He lived and he died with his wife; and his brains
   Are reposing in peace in his skull.

p.405EMILY, JOHN, JAMES, AND I.

A DERBYLEGEND

Emily Jane was anursery maid,
   James was a bold LifeGuard,
John was a constable, poorly paid
   (And I am a doggerel bard).

A very good girl was EmilyJane,
   Jimmy was good andtrue,
John was a very good man in themain
   (And I am a good man too).

Rivals for Emmiewere Johnny and James,
   Though Emily liked themboth;
She couldn’t tell which had the strongest claims
   (And Icouldn’t take my oath).

But sooner or later you’re certain tofind
   Your sentiments can’t lie hid—
Jane thought it was time that she madeup her mind
   (And I think it was time she did).

Said Jane, with asmirk, and a blush on her face,
   “I’ll promise to wed the boy
Who takes me to-morrow to Epsom Race!”
   (Which I would have done, with joy).

From Johnny escapedan expression of pain,
   But Jimmy said, “Done with you!
I’ll take you with pleasure, my EmilyJane!”
   (And I would have said so too).

John lay on theground, and he roared like mad
   (For Johnny was soreperplexed),
And he kicked very hard at a very small lad
   (Which Ioften do, when vexed).

For John was on dutynext day with the Force,
   To punish all Epsom crimes;
Young people willcross when they’re clearing thecourse
   (I do it myself, sometimes).

* * * * * * *

The Derby Day sun glittered gaily on cads,
   On maidens with gamboge hair,
On sharpers and pickpockets, swindlers and pads,
   (For I, with my harp, was there).

And Jimmy went downwith his Jane that day,
   And John by the collar ornape
Seized everybody who came in his way
   (And Ihad a narrow escape).

He noticed his EmilyJane with Jim,
   And envied the well-made elf;
And people remarked that he muttered “Oh, dim!”
   (I often say “dim!” myself).

John dogged them allday, without asking their leaves;
   For his sergeant he told, aside,
That Jimmy and Jane were notorious thieves
   (And I think he was justified).

But Jameswouldn’t dream of abstracting a fork,
   And Jenny would blushwith shame
At stealing so much as a bottle or cork
   (A bottle I think fair game).

But, ah! there’s another more seriouscrime!
   They wickedly strayed upon
The course, at a critical moment of time
   (I pointed them out to John).

The constable fell on the pair in acrack—
   And then, with a demon smile,
Let Jenny cross over, but sent Jimmy back
   (I played on my harp the while).

Stern Johnny theiragony loud derides
   With a very triumphant sneer—
They weep and they wail from the opposite sides
   (And Ished a silent tear).

And Jenny is cryingaway like mad,
   And Jimmy is swearinghard;
And Johnny is looking uncommonlyglad
   (And I am a doggerel bard).

But Jimmy heventured on crossing again
   The scenes of our Isthmian Games—
John caught him, and collared him,giving him pain
   (I felt very much for James).

John led him awaywith a victor’s hand,
   And Jimmy was shortlyseen
In the station-house under the grand Grand Stand
   (As many a time I’vebeen).

And Jimmy, bad boy,was imprisoned for life,
   Though Emily pleadedhard;
And Johnny had Emily Jane to wife
   (And I am a doggerel bard).

p. 413THEPERILS OF INVISIBILITY

Old Peter led awretched life—
Old Peter had a furious wife;
Old Peter too was truly stout,
He measured several yards about.

The little fairy Picklekin
One summer afternoon looked in,
And said, “Old Peter, how dedo?
Can I do anything for you?

“I have three gifts—the first willgive
Unbounded riches while you live;
The second health where’er you be;
The third, invisibility.”

“O little fairy Picklekin,”
Old Peter answered with a grin,
“To hesitate would be absurd,—
Undoubtedly I choose the third.”

“’Tis yours,” the fairy said;“be quite
Invisible to mortal sight
Whene’er you please.  Remember me
Most kindly, pray, to Mrs.P.”

Old Mrs. Peteroverheard
Wee Picklekin’s concludingword,
And, jealous of her girlhood’s choice,
Said, “That was some young woman’s voice!”

Old Peter let herscold and swear—
Old Peter, bless him, didn’tcare.
“My dear, your rage is wasted quite—
Observe, I disappear from sight!”

A well-bred fairy (so I’ve heard)
Is always faithful to her word:
Old Peter vanished like a shot,
Put then—his suit of clothes did not!

For when conferred the fairy slim
Invisibility on him,
She popped away on fairy wings,
Without referring to his “things.”

So there remained a coat of blue,
A vest and double eyeglass too,
His tail, his shoes, his socks as well,
His pair of—no, I must not tell.

Old Mrs. Peter soonbegan
To see the failure of his plan,
And then resolved (I quote the Bard)
To “hoist him with his own petard.”

Old Peter woke nextday and dressed,
Put on his coat, and shoes, and vest,
His shirt and stock; but could not find
His only pair of—never mind!

Old Peter was adecent man,
And though he twigged his lady’s plan,
Yet, hearing her approaching, he
Resumed invisibility.

“Dear Mrs. P.,my only joy,”
Exclaimed the horrified old boy,
“Now, give them up, I beg of you—
You know what I’m referring to!”

But no; the cross old lady swore
She’d keep his—what I said before—
To make him publicly absurd;
And Mrs. Peter kept her word.

The poor old fellow had no rest;
His coat, his stick, his shoes, his vest,
Were all that now met mortal eye—
The rest, invisibility!

“Now, madam, give them up, Ibeg—
I’ve had rheumatics in my leg;
Besides, until you do, it’s plain
I cannot come to sight again!

“For though some mirth it might afford
To see my clothes without their lord,
Yet there would rise indignant oaths
If he were seen without his clothes!”

But no; resolved to have her quiz,
The lady held her own—and his—
And Peter left his humble cot
To find a pair of—you know what.

But—here’s the worst of theaffair—
Whene’er he came across a pair
Already placed for him to don,
He was too stout to get them on!

So he resolved at once to train,
And walked and walked with all his main;
For years he paced this mortal earth,
To bring himself to decent girth.

At night, when all around is still,
You’ll find him pounding up a hill;
And shrieking peasants whom he meets,
Fall down in terror on the peats!

Old Peter walksthrough wind and rain,
Resolved to train, and train, and train,
Until he weighs twelve stone’ or so—
And when he does, I’ll let you know.

p. 420OLDPAUL AND OLD TIM

When rival adorerscome courting a maid,
There’s something or other may often be said,
Why heshould be pitched upon rather than him.
This wasn’t the case with Old Paul and Old Tim.

No soul could discover a reason at all
For marrying Timothy rather than Paul;
Though all could have offered good reasons, on oath,
Against marrying either—or marrying both.

They were equally wealthy and equally old,
They were equally timid and equally bold;
They were equally tall as they stood in their shoes—
Between them, in fact, there was nothing to choose.

Had I been young Emily, I should have said,
“You’re both much too old for a pretty young maid,
Threescore at the least you are verging upon”;
But I wasn’t young Emily. Let us get on.

No coward’s blood ran in young Emily’s veins,
Her martial old father loved bloody campaigns;
At the rumours of battles all over the globe
He pricked up his ears like the war-horse in“Job.”

He chuckled to hear of a suddensurprise—
Of soldiers, compelled, through an enemy’s spies,
Without any knapsacks or shakos to flee—
For an eminent army-contractor was he.

So when her two lovers, whose patience wastried,
Implored her between them at once to decide,
She told them she’d marry whichever might bring
Good proofs of his doing the pluckiest thing.

They both went away with a qualified joy:
That coward, Old Paul, chose a verysmall boy,
And when no one was looking, in spite of his fears,
He set to work boxing that little boy’s ears.

The little boy struggled and tugged at hishair,
But the lion was roused, and Old Pauldidn’t care;
He smacked him, and whacked him, and boxed him, and kicked
Till the poor little beggar was royally licked.

Old Tim knew a trickworth a dozen of that,
So he called for his stick and he called for his hat.
“I’ll cover myself with cheap glory—I’llgo
And wallop the Frenchmen who live in Soho!

“The German invader is ravaging France
With infantry rifle and cavalry lance,
And beautiful Paris is fighting her best
To shake herself free from her terrible guest.

“The Frenchmen in London, in cravenalarms,
Have all run away from the summons to arms;
They haven’t the pluck of a pigeon—I’ll go
And wallop the Frenchmen who skulk in Soho!”

Old Timothy tried itand found it succeed:
That day he caused many French noses to bleed;
Through foggy Soho he spread fear and dismay,
And Frenchmen all round him in agony lay.

He took care to abstain from employing hisfist
On the old and the crippled, for they might resist;
A crippled old man may have pluck in his breast,
But the young and the strong ones are cowards confest.

Old Tim and OldPaul, with the list of their foes,
Prostrated themselves at their Emily’s toes:
“Oh, which of us two is the pluckier blade?”
And Emily answered and Emily said:

“Old Tim hasthrashed runaway Frenchmen in scores,
Who ought to be guarding their cities and shores;
Old Paul has made little chaps’noses to bleed—
Old Paul has accomplished the pluckierdeed!”

p. 426THEMYSTIC SELVAGEE

Perhaps already you may know
Sir Blennerhasset Portico?
A Captain in the Navy, he—
A Baronet and K.C.B.
                          You do?  I thought so!
It was that Captain’s favourite whim
(A notion not confined to him)
That Rodney was the greatest tar
Who ever wielded capstan-bar.
                          He had been taught so.

“Benbow! Cornwallis!  Hood!—Belay!
Compared with Rodney”—hewould say—
“No other tar is worth a rap!
The great Lord Rodney was the chap
                          The French to polish!
Though, mind you, I respect LordHood;
Cornwallis, too, was rather good;
Benbow could enemies repel,
Lord Nelson, too, was prettywell—
                          That is, tol-lol-ish!”

Sir Blennerhassetspent his days
In learning Rodney’s littleways,
And closely imitated, too,
His mode of talking to his crew—
                          His port and paces.
An ancient tar he tried to catch
Who’d served in Rodney’sfamous batch;
But since his time long years have fled,
And Rodney’s tars are mostlydead:
                          Eheu fugaces!

But after searching near and far,
At last he found an ancient tar
Who served with Rodney and his crew
Against the French in ’Eighty-two,
                          (That gained the peerage).
He gave him fifty pounds a year,
His rum, his baccy, and his beer;
And had a comfortable den
Rigged up in what, by merchantmen,
                          Is called the steerage.

“Now, Jasper”—’t was thatsailor’s name—
“Don’t fear that you’ll incur my blame
By saying, when it seems to you,
That there is anything I do
                          That Rodney wouldn’t.”
The ancient sailor turned his quid,
Prepared to do as he was bid:
“Ay, ay, yer honour; to begin,
You’ve done away with ‘swifting in’—
                          Well, sir, you shouldn’t!

“Upon your spars I see you’veclapped
Peak halliard blocks, all iron-capped.
I would not christen that a crime,
But ’twas not done in Rodney’s time.
                          It looks half-witted!
Upon your maintop-stay, I see,
You always clap a selvagee!
Your stays, I see, are equalized—
No vessel, such as Rodney prized,
                          Would thus be fitted!

“And Rodney,honoured sir, would grin
To see you turning deadeyes in,
Not up, as in the ancient way,
But downwards, like a cutter’s stay—
                          You didn’t oughter;
Besides, in seizing shrouds on board,
Breast backstays you have quite ignored;
Great Rodney kept unto the last
Breast backstays on topgallant mast—
                          They make it tauter.”

Sir Blennerhasset“swifted in,”
Turned deadeyes up, and lent a fin
To strip (as told by Jasper Knox)
The iron capping from his blocks,
                          Where there was any.
Sir Blennerhasset does away,
With selvagees from maintop-stay;
And though it makes his sailors stare,
He rigs breast backstays everywhere—
                          In fact, too many.

One morning, when the saucy craft
Lay calmed, old Jasper toddled aft.
“My mind misgives me, sir, that we
Were wrong about that selvagee—
                          I should restore it.”
“Good,” said the Captain, and that day
Restored it to the maintop-stay.
Well-practised sailors often make
A much more serious mistake,
                          And then ignore it.

Next day old Jaspercame once more:
“I think, sir, I was right before.”
Well, up the mast the sailors skipped,
The selvagee was soon unshipped,
                          And all were merry.
Again a day, and Jasper came:
“I p’r’aps deserve your honour’sblame,
I can’t make up my mind,” said he,
“About that cursed selvagee—
                          It’s foolish—very.

“On Monday night I could have sworn
That maintop-stay it should adorn,
On Tuesday morning I could swear
That selvagee should not be there.
                          The knot’s a rasper!”
“Oh, you be hanged,” said Captain P.,
“Here, go ashore at Caribbee.
Get out—good bye—shove off—all right!”
Old Jasper soon was out ofsight—
                          Farewell, old Jasper!

p. 433THECUNNING WOMAN

On all Arcadia’s sunny plain,
   On all Arcadia’s hill,
None were so blithe as Bill and Jane,
   So blithe as Jane andBill.

No social earthquake e’er occurred
   To rack their common mind:
To them a Panic was a word—
   A Crisis, empty wind.

No Stock Exchange disturbed the lad
   With overwhelming shocks—
Bill ploughed with all the shares hehad,
   Jane planted all herstocks.

And learn in what a simple way
   Their pleasures they enhanced—
Jane danced like any lamb all day,
   Bill piped as well asdanced.

Surrounded by a twittling crew,
   Of linnet, lark, and thrush,
Bill treated his young lady to
   This sentimental gush:

“Oh, Jane, howtrue I am to you!
   How true you are to me!
And how we woo, and how we coo!
   So fond a pair are we!

“To think, dear Jane, that anyways.
   Your chiefest end and aim
Is, one of these fine summer days,
   To bear my humble name!”

Quoth Jane,“Well, as you put the case,
   I’m true enough, no doubt,
But then, you see, in this here place
   There’s none to cut you out.

“But, oh! if anybody came—
   A Lord or any such—
I do not think your humble name
   Would fascinate me much.

“For though your mates, you oftenboast.
   You distance out-and-out;
Still, in the abstract, you’re a most
   Uncompromising lout!”

Poor Bill, he gave aheavy sigh,
   He tried in vain to speak—
A fat tear started to each eye
   And coursed adown each cheek.

For, oh! right well in truth he knew
   That very self-same day,
The Lord de Jacob Pillaloo
   Was coming there to stay!

The Lord de JacobPillaloo
   All proper maidens shun—
He loves all women, it is true,
   But never marries one.

Now Jane, with allher mad self-will,
   Was no coquette—oh no!
She really loved her faithful Bill,
   And thus she tuned her woe:

“Oh, willow, willow, o’er thelea!
   And willow once again!
The Peer will fall in love with me!
   Why wasn’t I made plain?”

* * * *

A cunning woman lived hard by,
   A sorceressing dame,
MacCatacomb de Salmon-Eye
   Was her uncommon name.

To her good Jane,with kindly yearn
   For Bill’sincreasing pain,
Repaired in secrecy to learn
   How best to make her plain.

“Oh, Jane,” the worthy woman said,
   “This mystic phial keep,
And rub its liquor in your head
   Before you go to sleep.

“When you awake next day, I trow,
   You’ll look in form and hue
To others just as you do now—
   But not to Pillaloo!

“When you approach him, you will find
   He’ll think you coarse—unkempt—
And rudely bid you get behind,
   With undisguised contempt.”

The Lord de Pillalooarrived
   With his expensive train,
And when in state serenely hived,
   He sent for Bill andJane.

“Oh, spare her, Lordof Pillaloo!
   (Said Bill) if wed yoube,
There’s anything I’drather do
   Than flirt with LadyP.”

The Lord he gazed in Jenny’s eyes,
   He looked her through and through:
The cunning woman’s prophecies
   Were clearly coming true.

Lord Pillaloo, theRustic’s Bane
   (Bad person he, and proud),
He laughed Ha! ha! at prettyJane,
   And sneered at her aloud!

He bade her get behind him then,
   And seek her mother’s stye—
Yet to her native countrymen
   She was as fair as aye!

MacCatacomb,continue green!
   Grow, Salmon-Eye, inmight,
Except for you, there might have been
   The deuce’s own delight

p.440PHRENOLOGY

“Come, collarthis bad man—
   Around the throat he knotted me
Till I to choke began—
   In point of fact, garotted me!”

So spake Sir HerbertWrite
   To James, PolicemanThirty-two—
All ruffled with his fight
   Sir Herbert was, anddirty too.

Policeman nothing said
   (Though he had much to say on it),
But from the bad man’s head
   He took the cap that lay on it.

“No, great SirHerbert White—
   Impossible to take him up.
This man is honest quite—
   Wherever did you rake him up?

“For Burglars, Thieves, and Co.,
   Indeed, I’m no apologist,
But I, some years ago,
   Assisted a Phrenologist.

“Observe his various bumps,
   His head as I uncover it:
His morals lie in lumps
   All round about and over it.”

“Now take him,” said Sir White,
   “Or you will soon be rueing it;
Bless me!  I must be right,—
   I caught the fellow doing it!”

Policeman calmly smiled,
   “Indeed you are mistaken, sir,
You’re agitated—riled—
   And very badly shaken, sir.

“Sit down, and I’ll explain
   My system of Phrenology,
A second, please, remain”—
   (A second is horology).

Policeman left his beat—
   (The Bart., no longer furious,
Sat down upon a seat,
   Observing, “This is curious!”)

“Oh, surely, here are signs
   Should soften your rigidity:
This gentleman combines
   Politeness with timidity.

“Of Shyness here’s a lump—
   A hole for Animosity—
And like my fist his bump
   Of Impecuniosity.

“Just here the bump appears
   Of Innocent Hilarity,
And just behind his ears
   Are Faith, and Hope, and Charity.

“He of true Christian ways
   As bright example sent us is—
This maxim he obeys,
   ‘Sorte tuâ contentussis.’

“There, let him go his ways,
   He needs no stern admonishing.”
The Bart., in blank amaze,
   Exclaimed, “This is astonishing!

“I musthave made a mull,
   This matter I’ve been blind in it:
Examine, please, myskull,
   And tell me what you find in it.”

That Crusher looked, and said,
   With unimpaired urbanity,
“Sir Herbert, you’ve ahead
   That teems with inhumanity.

“Here’s Murder, Envy, Strife
   (Propensity to kill any),
And Lies as large as life,
   And heaps of Social Villany.

“Here’s Love of Bran-NewClothes,
   Embezzling—Arson—Deism—
A taste for Slang and Oaths,
   And Fraudulent Trusteeism.

“Here’s Love of GroundlessCharge—
   Here’s Malice, too, and Trickery,
Unusually large
   Your bump of Pocket-Pickery—”

“Stop!” said the Bart., “mycup
   Is full—I’m worse than him in all;
Policeman, take me up—
   No doubt I am some criminal!”

That Pleeceman’s scorn grew large
   (Phrenology had nettled it),
He took that Bart. in charge—
   I don’t know how they settled it.

p. 446THEFAIRY CURATE

   Once a fairy
   Light and airy
Married with a mortal;
   Men, however,
   Never, never
Pass the fairy portal.
   Slyly stealing,
   She to Ealing
Made a daily journey;
   There she found him,
   Clients round him
(He was an attorney).

   Long they tarried,
   Then they married.
When the ceremony
   Once was ended,
   Off they wended
On their moon of honey.
   Twelvemonth, maybe,
   Saw a baby
(Friends performed an orgie).
   Much they prized him,
   And baptized him
By the name of Georgie.

   Georgie grew up;
   Then he flew up
To his fairy mother.
   Happy meeting—
   Pleasant greeting—
Kissing one another.
   “Choose a calling
   Most enthralling,
I sincerely urge ye.”
   “Mother,” said he
   (Rev’rence made he),
“I would join the clergy.

   “Give permission
   In addition—
Pa will let me do it:
   There’s a living
   In his giving—
He’ll appoint me to it.
   Dreams of coff’ring,
   Easter off’ring,
Tithe and rent and pew-rate,
   So inflame me
   (Do not blame me),
That I’ll be a curate.”

   She, with pleasure,
   Said, “My treasure,
’T is my wish precisely.
   Do your duty,
   There’s a beauty;
You have chosen wisely.
   Tell your father
   I would rather
As a churchman rank you.
   You, in clover,
   I’ll watch over.”
Georgie said, “Oh, thankyou!”

   Georgie scudded,
   Went and studied,
Made all preparations,
   And with credit
   (Though he said it)
Passed examinations.
   (Do not quarrel
   With him, moral,
Scrupulous digestions—
   ’Twas his mother,
   And no other,
Answered all the questions.)

   Time proceeded;
   Little needed
Georgie admonition:
   He, elated,
   Vindicated
Clergyman’s position.
   People round him
   Always found him
Plain and unpretending;
   Kindly teaching,
   Plainly preaching,
All his money lending.

   So the fairy,
   Wise and wary,
Felt no sorrow rising—
   No occasion
   For persuasion,
Warning, or advising.
   He, resuming
   Fairy pluming
(That’s not English, is it?)
   Oft would fly up,
   To the sky up,
Pay mamma a visit.

* * * * * * *

   Time progressing,
   Georgie’sblessing
Grew more Ritualistic—
   Popish scandals,
   Tonsures—sandals—
Genuflections mystic;
   Gushing meetings—
   Bosom-beatings—
Heavenly ecstatics—
   Broidered spencers—
   Copes and censers—
Rochets and dalmatics.

   This quandary
   Vexed the fairy—
Flew she down to Ealing.
   “Georgie, stopit!
   Pray you, drop it;
Hark to my appealing:
   To this foolish
   Papal rule-ish
Twaddle put an ending;
   This a swerve is
   From our Service
Plain and unpretending.”

   He, replying,
   Answered, sighing,
Hawing, hemming, humming,
   “It’s a pity—
   They’re so pritty;
Yet in mode becoming,
   Mother tender,
   I’ll surrender—
I’ll be unaffected—”
   But his Bishop
   Into hisshop
Entered unexpected!

   “Who is this,sir,—
   Ballet miss, sir?”
Said the Bishop coldly.
   “’T is my mother,
   And no other,”
Georgie answered boldly.
   “Go along, sir!
   You are wrong, sir;
You have years in plenty,
   While this hussy
   (Gracious mussy!)
Isn’t two and twenty!”

   (Fairies clever
   Never, never
Grow in visage older;
   And the fairy,
   All unwary,
Leant upon his shoulder!)
   Bishop grieved him,
   Disbelieved him;
George the point grew warm on;
   Changed religion,
   Like a pigeon, [452]
And became a Mormon!

p. 454THEWAY OF WOOING

A maiden sat at herwindow wide,
Pretty enough for a Prince’s bride,
   Yet nobody came to claim her.
She sat like a beautiful picture there,
With pretty bluebells and roses fair,
   And jasmine-leaves to frame her.
And why she sat there nobody knows;
But this she sang as she plucked a rose,
   The leaves around her strewing:
“I’ve time to lose and power to choose;
’T is not so much the gallant who woos,
   But the gallant’s wayofwooing!”

A lover came riding by awhile,
A wealthy lover was he, whose smile
   Some maids would value greatly—
A formal lover, who bowed and bent,
With many a high-flown compliment,
   And cold demeanour stately,
“You’ve still,” said she to her suitorstern,
“The ’prentice-work of your craft to learn,
   If thus you come a-cooing.
I’ve time to lose and power to choose;
’T is not so much the gallant who woos,
   As the gallant’s wayofwooing!”

A second lover came ambling by—
A timid lad with a frightened eye
   And a colour mantling highly.
He muttered the errand on which he’d come,
Then only chuckled and bit his thumb,
   And simpered, simpered shyly.
“No,” said the maiden, “go your way;
You dare but think what a man would say,
   Yet dare to come a-suing!
I’ve time to lose and power to choose;
’T is not so much the gallant who woos,
   As the gallant’s wayofwooing!”

A third rode up at a startling pace—
A suitor poor, with a homely face—
   No doubts appeared to bind him.
He kissed her lips and he pressed her waist,
And off he rode with the maiden, placed
   On a pillion safe behind him.
And she heard the suitor bold confide
This golden hint to the priest who tied
   The knot there’s no undoing;
“With pretty young maidens who can choose,
’Tis not so much the gallant who woos,
   As the gallant’s wayofwooing!”

p.460HONGREE AND MAHRY

A RICHARDSONMELODRAMA

The sun was settingin its wonted west,
When Hongree, Sub-Lieutenant ofChassoores,
Met Mahry Daubigny, the VillageRose,
Under the Wizard’s Oak—old trysting-place
Of those who loved in rosy Aquitaine.

They thought themselves unwatched, but theywere not;
For Hongree, Sub-Lieutenant ofChassoores,
Found in Lieutenant-Colonel JoolesDubosc
A rival, envious and unscrupulous,
Who thought it not foul scorn to dodge his steps,
And listen, unperceived, to all that passed
Between the simple little Village Rose
And Hongree, Sub-Lieutenant ofChassoores.

A clumsy barrack-bully was Dubosc,
Quite unfamiliar with the well-bred tact
That animates a proper gentleman
In dealing with a girl of humble rank.
You’ll understand his coarseness when I say
He would have married MahryDaubigny,
And dragged the unsophisticated girl
Into the whirl of fashionable life,
For which her singularly rustic ways,
Her breeding (moral, but extremely rude),
Her language (chaste, but ungrammatical),
Would absolutely have unfitted her.
How different to this unreflecting boor
Was Hongree, Sub-Lieutenant ofChassoores.

Contemporary with the incident
Related in our opening paragraph,
Was that sad war ’twixt Gallia and ourselves
That followed on the treaty signed at Troyes;
And so Lieutenant-Colonel JoolesDubosc
(Brave soldier, he, with all his faults of style)
And Hongree, Sub-Lieutenant ofChassoores,
Were sent by Charles of France againstthe lines
Of our Sixth Henry (Fourteentwenty-nine),
To drive his legions out of Aquitaine.

When Hongree,Sub-Lieutenant of Chassoores,
Returned, suspecting nothing, to his camp,
After his meeting with the Village Rose,
He found inside his barrack letter-box
A note from the commanding officer,
Requiring his attendance at head-quarters.
He went, and found Lieutenant-ColonelJooles.

“Young Hongree, Sub-Lieutenant of Chassoores,
This night we shall attack the English camp:
Be the ‘forlorn hope’ yours—you’ll leadit, sir,
And lead it too with credit, I’ve no doubt.
As every man must certainly be killed
(For you are twenty ’gainst two thousand men),
It is not likely that you will return.
But what of that? you’ll have the benefit
Of knowing that you die a soldier’s death.”

Obedience was young Hongree’s strongest point,
But he imagined that he only owed
Allegiance to his Mahry and hisKing.
“If Mahry bade me lead thesefated men,
I’d lead them—but I do not think she would.
If Charles, my King, said, ‘Go,my son, and die,’
I’d go, of course—my duty would be clear.
But Mahry is in bed asleep, I hope,
And Charles, my King, a hundredleagues from this.
As for Lieutenant-Colonel JoolesDubosc,
How know I that our monarch would approve
The order he has given me to-night?
My King I’ve sworn in all things to obey—
I’ll only take my orders from my King!”
Thus Hongree, Sub-Lieutenant ofChassoores,
Interpreted the terms of his commission.

And Hongree, who waswise as he was good,
Disguised himself that night in ample cloak,
Round flapping hat, and vizor mask of black,
And made, unnoticed, for the English camp.
He passed the unsuspecting sentinels
(Who little thought a man in this disguise
Could be a proper object of suspicion),
And ere the curfew bell had boomed “lights out,”
He found in audience Bedford’s haughty Duke.

“Your Grace,” he said, “startnot—be not alarmed,
Although a Frenchman stands before your eyes.
I’m Hongree, Sub-Lieutenant ofChassoores.
My Colonel will attack your camp to-night,
And orders me to lead the hope forlorn.
Now I am sure our excellent KingCharles
Would not approve of this; but he’s away
A hundred leagues, and rather more than that.
So, utterly devoted to my King,
Blinded by my attachment to the throne,
And having but its interest at heart,
I feel it is my duty to disclose
All schemes that emanate from ColonelJooles,
If I believe that they are not the kind
Of schemes that our good monarch would approve.”

“But how,” said Bedford’sDuke, “do you propose
That we should overthrow your Colonel’s scheme?”
And Hongree, Sub-Lieutenant ofChassoores,
Replied at once with never-failing tact:
“Oh, sir, I know this cursed country well.
Entrust yourself and all your host to me;
I’ll lead you safely by a secret path
Into the heart of ColonelJooles’ array,
And you can then attack them unprepared,
And slay my fellow-countrymen unarmed.”

The thing was done.  The Duke of Bedford gave
The order, and two thousand fighting men
Crept silently into the Gallic camp,
And slew the Frenchmen as they lay asleep;
And Bedford’s haughty Duke slew ColonelJooles,
And gave fair Mahry, pride ofAquitaine,
To Hongree, Sub-Lieutenant ofChassoores.

p.541ETIQUETTE

TheBallyshannonfoundered off the coast of Cariboo,
And down in fathoms many went the captain and the crew;
Down went the owners—greedy men whom hope of gainallured:
Oh, dry the starting tear, for they were heavily insured.

Besides the captain and the mate, the ownersand the crew,
The passengers were also drowned excepting only two:
Young Peter Gray, who tasted teas forBaker, Croop, andCo.,
And Somers, who from Eastern shoresimported indigo.

These passengers, by reason of their clingingto a mast,
Upon a desert island were eventually cast.
They hunted for their meals, as AlexanderSelkirk used,
But they couldn’t chat together—they had not beenintroduced.

For Peter Gray, andSomers too, though certainly intrade,
Were properly particular about the friends they made;
And somehow thus they settled it without a word ofmouth—
That Gray should take the northernhalf, while Somers took the south.

On Peter’sportion oysters grew—a delicacy rare,
But oysters were a delicacy Petercouldn’t bear.
On Somers’ side was turtle, onthe shingle lying thick,
Which Somers couldn’t eat,because it always made him sick.

Gray gnashed histeeth with envy as he saw a mighty store
Of turtle unmolested on his fellow-creature’s shore.
The oysters at his feet aside impatiently he shoved,
For turtle and his mother were the only things he loved.

And Somers sighed insorrow as he settled in the south,
For the thought of Peter’soysters brought the water to his mouth.
He longed to lay him down upon the shelly bed, and stuff:
He had often eaten oysters, but had never had enough.

How they wished an introduction to each otherthey had had
When on board the Ballyshannon!  And it drove themnearly mad
To think how very friendly with each other they might get,
If it wasn’t for the arbitrary rule of etiquette!

One day, when out a-hunting for the musridiculus,
Gray overheard his fellow-mansoliloquizing thus:
“I wonder how the playmates of my youth are getting on,
M‘Connell, S. B. Walters, PaddyByles, and Robinson?”

These simple words made Peter as delighted as could be,
Old chummies at the Charterhouse were Robinson and he!
He walked straight up to Somers, thenhe turned extremely red,
Hesitated, hummed and hawed a bit, then cleared his throat, andsaid:

“I beg your pardon—pray forgive meif I seem too bold,
But you have breathed a name I knew familiarly of old.
You spoke aloud of Robinson—Ihappened to be by.
You know him?”  “Yes, extremelywell.”  “Allow me, so do I.”

It was enough: they felt they could morepleasantly get on,
For (ah, the magic of the fact!) they each knew Robinson!
And Mr. Somers’ turtle was atPeter’s service quite,
And Mr. Somers punished Peter’s oyster-beds all night.

They soon became like brothers from communityof wrongs:
They wrote each other little odes and sang each other songs;
They told each other anecdotes disparaging their wives;
On several occasions, too, they saved each other’slives.

They felt quite melancholy when they parted forthe night,
And got up in the morning soon as ever it was light;
Each other’s pleasant company they reckoned so upon,
And all because it happened that they both knew Robinson!

They lived for many years on that inhospitableshore,
And day by day they learned to love each other more and more.
At last, to their astonishment, on getting up one day,
They saw a frigate anchored in the offing of the bay.

To Peter an ideaoccurred.  “Suppose we cross the main?
So good an opportunity may not be found again.”
And Somers thought a minute, thenejaculated, “Done!
I wonder how my business in the City’s gettingon?”

“But stay,” said Mr. Peter: “when in England, as youknow,
I earned a living tasting teas for Baker, Croop,and Co.,
I may be superseded—my employers think me dead!”
“Then come with me,” said Somers, “and taste indigoinstead.”

But all their plans were scattered in a momentwhen they found
The vessel was a convict ship from Portland, outward bound;
When a boat came off to fetch them, though they felt it verykind,
To go on board they firmly but respectfully declined.

As both the happy settlers roared with laughterat the joke,
They recognized a gentlemanly fellow pulling stroke:
’Twas Robinson—a convict,in an unbecoming frock!
Condemned to seven years for misappropriating stock!!!

They laughed no more, for Somers thought he had been rather rash
In knowing one whose friend had misappropriated cash;
And Peter thought a foolish tack hemust have gone upon
In making the acquaintance of a friend of Robinson.

At first they didn’t quarrel very openly,I’ve heard;
They nodded when they met, and now and then exchanged a word:
The word grew rare, and rarer still the nodding of the head,
And when they meet each other now, they cut each other dead.

To allocate the island they agreed by word ofmouth,
And Peter takes the north again, andSomers takes the south;
And Peter has the oysters, which hehates, in layers thick,
And Somers has the turtle—turtlealways makes him sick.

FOOTNOTES

[287a]  “Go with me to aNotary—seal me there
Your single bond.”—Merchant of Venice, Act I.,sc. 3.

[287b]  “And there shall she, atFriar Lawrence’ cell,
Be shrived and married.”—Romeo and Juliet, ActII., sc. 4.

[287c]  “And give the fastinghorses provender.”—Henry the Fifth, Act IV.,sc. 2.

[288a]  “Let us, like merchants,show our foulest wares.”—Troilus and Cressida,Act I., sc. 3.

[288b]  “Then must the Jew bemerciful.”—Merchant of Venice, Act IV., sc.1.

[288c]  “The spring, thesummer,
The chilling autumn, angry winter, change
Their wonted liveries.”—Midsummer Night Dream,Act IV., sc. 1.

[288d]  “In the county ofGlo’ster, justice of the peace andcoram.”—Merry Wives of Windsor, Act I.,sc. 1.

[288e]  “What lusty trumpet thusdoth summon us?”—King John, Act V., sc. 2.

[288f]  “And I’ll providehis executioner.”—Henry the Sixth(SecondPart), Act III., sc. 1.

[288g]  “The lioness had tornsome flesh away,
Which all this while had bled.”—As You LikeIt, Act IV., sc. 3.

[452]  “Like a bird.”

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