But, alas! in field or village,
Or beside the pebbly shore,
Did I see those glancing ankles,
And the white robe never more;
And no answer came to greet me,
No sweet voice to mine replied;
But I heard the waters rippling,
And the moaning of the tide.
Or beside the pebbly shore,
Did I see those glancing ankles,
And the white robe never more;
And no answer came to greet me,
No sweet voice to mine replied;
But I heard the waters rippling,
And the moaning of the tide.
Original Size
Original Size
THE LAY OF THE JEBITE
There is a sound that's dear to me,
It haunts me in my sleep;
I wake, and, if I hear it not,
I cannot choose but weep.
It haunts me in my sleep;
I wake, and, if I hear it not,
I cannot choose but weep.
Above the roaring of the wind,
Above the river's flow,
Methinks I hear the mystic cry
Of "Clo!—Old Clo!"
Above the river's flow,
Methinks I hear the mystic cry
Of "Clo!—Old Clo!"
The exile's song, it thrills among
The dwellings of the free,
Its {69}sound is strange to English ears,
But 'tis not strange to me;
The dwellings of the free,
Its {69}sound is strange to English ears,
But 'tis not strange to me;
For it hath shook the tented field
In ages long ago,
And hosts have quailed before the cry
Of "Clo!—Old Clo!"
In ages long ago,
And hosts have quailed before the cry
Of "Clo!—Old Clo!"
Oh, lose it not! forsake it not!
And let no time efface
The memory of that solemn sound,
The watchword of our race;
And let no time efface
The memory of that solemn sound,
The watchword of our race;
For not by dark and eagle eye
The Hebrew shall you know,
So well as by the plaintive cry
Of "Clo!—Old Clo!"
The Hebrew shall you know,
So well as by the plaintive cry
Of "Clo!—Old Clo!"
Even now, perchance, by Jordan's banks,
Or Sidon's sunny walls,
Where, dial-like, to portion time,
The palm-tree's shadow falls,
Or Sidon's sunny walls,
Where, dial-like, to portion time,
The palm-tree's shadow falls,
The pilgrims, wending on their way,
Will linger as they go,
And listen to the distant cry
Of "Clo!—Old Clo!"
Will linger as they go,
And listen to the distant cry
Of "Clo!—Old Clo!"
Original Size
BURSCH GROGGNEBURG
[After the manner of Schiller.]
"Bursch! if foaming beer content ye,
Come and drink your fill;
In our cellars there is plenty;
Himmel! how you swill!
That the liquor hath allurance,
Well I understand;
But 'tis really past endurance,
When you squeeze my hand!"
Come and drink your fill;
In our cellars there is plenty;
Himmel! how you swill!
That the liquor hath allurance,
Well I understand;
But 'tis really past endurance,
When you squeeze my hand!"
And he heard her as if dreaming,
Heard her half in awe;
And the meerschaum's smoke came streaming
From his open jaw:
And his pulse heat somewhat quicker
Than it did before,
And he finished off his liquor,
Staggered through the door;
Heard her half in awe;
And the meerschaum's smoke came streaming
From his open jaw:
And his pulse heat somewhat quicker
Than it did before,
And he finished off his liquor,
Staggered through the door;
Bolted off direct to Munich,
And within the year
Underneath his German tunic
Stowed whole butts of beer.
And he drank like fifty fishes,
Drank till all was blue;
For he felt extremely vicious—
Somewhat thirsty too.
And within the year
Underneath his German tunic
Stowed whole butts of beer.
And he drank like fifty fishes,
Drank till all was blue;
For he felt extremely vicious—
Somewhat thirsty too.
But at length this dire deboshing
Drew towards an end;
Few of all his silver groschen
Had he left to spend.
And he knew it was not prudent
Longer to remain;
So, with weary feet, the student
Wended home again.
Drew towards an end;
Few of all his silver groschen
Had he left to spend.
And he knew it was not prudent
Longer to remain;
So, with weary feet, the student
Wended home again.
At the tavern's well-known portal
Knocks he as before,
And a waiter, rather mortal,
Hiccups through the door—
"Master's sleeping in the kitchen
You'll alarm the house;
Yesterday the Jungfrau Fritchen
Married baker Kraus!"
Knocks he as before,
And a waiter, rather mortal,
Hiccups through the door—
"Master's sleeping in the kitchen
You'll alarm the house;
Yesterday the Jungfrau Fritchen
Married baker Kraus!"
Like a fiery comet bristling,
Rose the young man's hair,
And, poor soul! he fell a-whistling
Out of sheer despair.
Down the gloomy street in silence,
Savage-calm he goes;
But he did no deed of vi'lence—
Only blew his nose.
Rose the young man's hair,
And, poor soul! he fell a-whistling
Out of sheer despair.
Down the gloomy street in silence,
Savage-calm he goes;
But he did no deed of vi'lence—
Only blew his nose.
Then he hired an airy garret
Near her dwelling-place;
Grew a beard of fiercest carrot,
Never washed his face;
Sate all day beside the casement,
Sate a dreary man;
Found in smoking such an easement
As the wretched can;
Near her dwelling-place;
Grew a beard of fiercest carrot,
Never washed his face;
Sate all day beside the casement,
Sate a dreary man;
Found in smoking such an easement
As the wretched can;
Stared for hours and hours together.
Stared yet more and more;
Till in fine and sunny weather.
At the baker's door,
Stood, in apron white and mealy,
That beloved dame,
Counting out the loaves so freely,
Selling of the same.
Stared yet more and more;
Till in fine and sunny weather.
At the baker's door,
Stood, in apron white and mealy,
That beloved dame,
Counting out the loaves so freely,
Selling of the same.
Then like a volcano puffing,
Smoked he out his pipe;
Sighed and supped on ducks and stuffing,
Ham and kraut and tripe;
Went to bed, and, in the morning,
Waited as before,
Still his eyes in anguish turning
To the baker's door;
Smoked he out his pipe;
Sighed and supped on ducks and stuffing,
Ham and kraut and tripe;
Went to bed, and, in the morning,
Waited as before,
Still his eyes in anguish turning
To the baker's door;
Till, with apron white and mealy,
Came the lovely dame,
Counting out the loaves so freely,
Selling of the same.
So one day—the fact's amazing!—
On his post he died!
And they found the body gazing
At the baker's bride.
Came the lovely dame,
Counting out the loaves so freely,
Selling of the same.
So one day—the fact's amazing!—
On his post he died!
And they found the body gazing
At the baker's bride.
NIGHT AND MORNING
[Not by Sir E. Bulwer Lytton.]
"Thy coffee, Tom, 's untasted,
And thy egg is very cold;
Thy cheeks are wan and wasted,
Not rosy as of old.
And thy egg is very cold;
Thy cheeks are wan and wasted,
Not rosy as of old.
My boy, what has come o'er ye?
You surely are not well!
Try some of that ham before ye,
And then, Tom, ring the bell!"
You surely are not well!
Try some of that ham before ye,
And then, Tom, ring the bell!"
"I cannot eat, my mother,
My tongue is parched and bound,
And my head, somehow or other,
Is swimming round and round.
My tongue is parched and bound,
And my head, somehow or other,
Is swimming round and round.
In my Eyes there is a fulness,
And my pulse is beating quick;
On my brain is a weight of dulness:
Oh, mother, I am sick!"
And my pulse is beating quick;
On my brain is a weight of dulness:
Oh, mother, I am sick!"
"These long, long nights of watching
Are killing you outright;
The evening dews are catching,
And you're out every night.
Are killing you outright;
The evening dews are catching,
And you're out every night.
Why does that horrid grumbler,
Old Inkpen, work you so?"
"My head! Oh, that tenth tumbler!
'Twas that which wrought my woe!"
Old Inkpen, work you so?"
"My head! Oh, that tenth tumbler!
'Twas that which wrought my woe!"
THE BITTER BIT
The sun is in the sky, mother, the flowers are springing
fair,
And the melody of woodland birds is stirring in the air;
The river, smiling to the sky, glides onward to the sea,
And happiness is everywhere, oh mother, but with me!
fair,
And the melody of woodland birds is stirring in the air;
The river, smiling to the sky, glides onward to the sea,
And happiness is everywhere, oh mother, but with me!
They are going to the church, mother,—I hear the mar-
riage-bell;
It booms along the upland,—oh! it haunts me like a
knell;
He leads her on his arm, mother, he cheers her faltering
step,
And closely to his side she clings,—she does, the demirep!
riage-bell;
It booms along the upland,—oh! it haunts me like a
knell;
He leads her on his arm, mother, he cheers her faltering
step,
And closely to his side she clings,—she does, the demirep!
They are crossing by the stile, mother, where we so oft
have stood,
The stile beside the shady thorn, at the corner of the
wood;
And the boughs, that wont to murmur back the words
that won my ear,
Wave their silver blossoms o'er him, as he leads his bridal
fere.
have stood,
The stile beside the shady thorn, at the corner of the
wood;
And the boughs, that wont to murmur back the words
that won my ear,
Wave their silver blossoms o'er him, as he leads his bridal
fere.
He will pass beside the stream, mother, where first my
hand he pressed,
By the meadow where, with quivering lip, his passion he
confessed;
And down the hedgerows where we've strayed again and
yet again;
But he will not think of me, mother, his broken-hearted
Jane!
hand he pressed,
By the meadow where, with quivering lip, his passion he
confessed;
And down the hedgerows where we've strayed again and
yet again;
But he will not think of me, mother, his broken-hearted
Jane!
He said that I was proud, mother,—that I looked for rank
and gold;
He said I did not love him,—he said my words were
cold;
He said I kept him off and on, in hopes of higher
game—
And it may be that I did, mother; but who hasn't done
the same?
and gold;
He said I did not love him,—he said my words were
cold;
He said I kept him off and on, in hopes of higher
game—
And it may be that I did, mother; but who hasn't done
the same?
I did not know my heart, mother,—I know it now too
late;
I thought that I without a pang could wed some nobler
mate;
But no nobler suitor sought me,—and he has taken wing,
And my heart is gone, and I am left a lone and blighted
thing.
late;
I thought that I without a pang could wed some nobler
mate;
But no nobler suitor sought me,—and he has taken wing,
And my heart is gone, and I am left a lone and blighted
thing.
You may lay me in my "bed, mother,—my head is throb-
bing sore;
And, mother, prithee, let the sheets be duly aired before;
And, if you'd do a kindness to your poor desponding
child,
Draw me a pot of beer, mother—and, mother, draw it mild!
bing sore;
And, mother, prithee, let the sheets be duly aired before;
And, if you'd do a kindness to your poor desponding
child,
Draw me a pot of beer, mother—and, mother, draw it mild!
Original Size
THE MEETING
Once I lay beside a fountain,
Lulled me with its gentle song,
And my thoughts o'er dale and mountain
With the clouds were borne along.
Lulled me with its gentle song,
And my thoughts o'er dale and mountain
With the clouds were borne along.
There I saw old castles flinging
Shadowy gleams on moveless seas,
Saw gigantic forests swinging
To and fro without a breeze;
Shadowy gleams on moveless seas,
Saw gigantic forests swinging
To and fro without a breeze;
And in dusky alleys straying,
Many a giant shape of power,
Troops of nymphs in sunshine playing,
Singing, dancing, hour on hour.
Many a giant shape of power,
Troops of nymphs in sunshine playing,
Singing, dancing, hour on hour.
I, too, trod these plains Elysian,
Heard their ringing tones of mirth,
But a brighter, fairer vision
Called me back again to earth.
Heard their ringing tones of mirth,
But a brighter, fairer vision
Called me back again to earth.
From the forest shade advancing,
See, where comes a lovely May;
The dew, like gems, before her glancing,
As she brushes it away!
See, where comes a lovely May;
The dew, like gems, before her glancing,
As she brushes it away!
Straight I rose, and ran to meet her,
Seized her hand—the heavenly blue
Of her eyes smiled brighter, sweeter,
As she asked me—"Who are you?"
Seized her hand—the heavenly blue
Of her eyes smiled brighter, sweeter,
As she asked me—"Who are you?"
To that question came another—
What its aim I still must doubt—
And she asked me, "How's your mother?
Does she know that you are out?"
What its aim I still must doubt—
And she asked me, "How's your mother?
Does she know that you are out?"
"No! my mother does not know it,
Beauteous, heaven-descended muse!"
"Then be off, my handsome poet,
And say I sent you with the news!"
Beauteous, heaven-descended muse!"
"Then be off, my handsome poet,
And say I sent you with the news!"
Original Size
THE CONVICT AND THE AUSTRALIAN LADY
Thy skin is dark as jet, ladye,
Thy cheek is sharp and high,
And there's a cruel leer, love,
Within thy rolling eye:
Thy cheek is sharp and high,
And there's a cruel leer, love,
Within thy rolling eye:
These tangled ebon tresses
No comb hath e'er gone through;
And thy forehead, it is furrowed by
The elegant tattoo!
No comb hath e'er gone through;
And thy forehead, it is furrowed by
The elegant tattoo!
I love thee,—oh, I love thee,
Thou strangely-feeding maid!
Nay, lift not thus thy boomerang,
I meant not to upbraid!
Thou strangely-feeding maid!
Nay, lift not thus thy boomerang,
I meant not to upbraid!
Come, let me taste those yellow lips
That ne'er were tasted yet,
Save when the shipwrecked mariner
Passed through them for a whet.
That ne'er were tasted yet,
Save when the shipwrecked mariner
Passed through them for a whet.
Nay, squeeze me not so tightly!
For I am gaunt and thin;
There's little flesh to tempt thee
Beneath a convict's skin.
For I am gaunt and thin;
There's little flesh to tempt thee
Beneath a convict's skin.
I came not to be eaten;
I sought thee, love, to woo;
Besides, bethink thee, dearest,
Thou'st dined on cockatoo.
I sought thee, love, to woo;
Besides, bethink thee, dearest,
Thou'st dined on cockatoo.
Thy father is a chieftain!
Why, that's the very thing!
Within my native country
I too have been a king.
Why, that's the very thing!
Within my native country
I too have been a king.
Behold this branded letter,
Which nothing can efface!
It is the royal emblem,
The token of my race!
Which nothing can efface!
It is the royal emblem,
The token of my race!
But rebels rose against me,
And dared my power disown—
You've heard, love, of the judges?
They drove me from my throne.
And dared my power disown—
You've heard, love, of the judges?
They drove me from my throne.
And I have wandered hither,
Across the stormy sea,
In search of glorious freedom,—
In search, my sweet, of thee!
Across the stormy sea,
In search of glorious freedom,—
In search, my sweet, of thee!
The bush is now my empire,
The knife my sceptre keen;
Come with me to the desert wild,
And be my dusky queen.
The knife my sceptre keen;
Come with me to the desert wild,
And be my dusky queen.
I cannot give thee jewels,
I have nor sheep nor cow,
Yet there are kangaroos, love,
And colonists enow.
I have nor sheep nor cow,
Yet there are kangaroos, love,
And colonists enow.
We'll meet the unwary settler,
As whistling home he goes,
And I'll take tribute from him,
His money and his clothes.
As whistling home he goes,
And I'll take tribute from him,
His money and his clothes.
Then on his bleeding carcass
Thou'lt lay thy pretty paw,
And lunch upon him roasted,
Or, if you like it, raw!
Thou'lt lay thy pretty paw,
And lunch upon him roasted,
Or, if you like it, raw!
Then come with me, my princess,
My own Australian dear,
Within this grove of gum-trees
We'll hold our bridal cheer!
My own Australian dear,
Within this grove of gum-trees
We'll hold our bridal cheer!
Thy heart with love is heating,
I feel it through my side:—
Hurrah, then, for the noble pair,
The Convict and his Bride!
I feel it through my side:—
Hurrah, then, for the noble pair,
The Convict and his Bride!
DOLEFUL LAY OF THE HONORABLE J. O. UWINS
Come and listen, lords and ladies,
To a woeful lay of mine;
He whose tailor's bill unpaid is,
Let him now his ear incline!
To a woeful lay of mine;
He whose tailor's bill unpaid is,
Let him now his ear incline!
Let him hearken to my story,
How the noblest of the land
Pined in piteous purgatory,
'Neath a sponging Bailiffs hand.
How the noblest of the land
Pined in piteous purgatory,
'Neath a sponging Bailiffs hand.
I. O. Uwins! I. O. Uwins!
Baron's son although thou be,
Thou must pay for thy misdoings
In the country of the free!
Baron's son although thou be,
Thou must pay for thy misdoings
In the country of the free!
None of all thy sire's retainers
To thy rescue now may come;
And there lie some score detainers
With Abednego, the bum.
To thy rescue now may come;
And there lie some score detainers
With Abednego, the bum.
Little recked he of his prison
Whilst the sun was in the sky:
Only when the moon was risen
Did you hear the captive's cry.
Whilst the sun was in the sky:
Only when the moon was risen
Did you hear the captive's cry.
For till then, cigars and claret
Lulled him in oblivion sweet;
And he much, preferred a garret,
For his drinking, to the street.
Lulled him in oblivion sweet;
And he much, preferred a garret,
For his drinking, to the street.
But the moonlight, pale and broken,
Pained at soul the Baron's son;
For he knew, by that soft token,
That the larking had begun;—
Pained at soul the Baron's son;
For he knew, by that soft token,
That the larking had begun;—
That the stout and valiant Marquis
Then was leading forth his swells,
Milling some policeman's carcass,
Or purloining private bells.
Then was leading forth his swells,
Milling some policeman's carcass,
Or purloining private bells.
So he sat in grief and sorrow,
Rather drunk than otherwise,
Till the golden gush of morrow
Dawned once more upon his eyes:
Rather drunk than otherwise,
Till the golden gush of morrow
Dawned once more upon his eyes:
Till the sponging Bailiff's daughter,
Lightly tapping at the door,
Brought his draught of soda-water,
Brandy-bottomed as before.
Lightly tapping at the door,
Brought his draught of soda-water,
Brandy-bottomed as before.
"Sweet Rebecca! has your father,
Think you, made a deal of brass?"
And she answered—"Sir, I rather
Should imagine that he has."
Think you, made a deal of brass?"
And she answered—"Sir, I rather
Should imagine that he has."
Uwins then, his whiskers scratching,
Leered upon the maiden's face,
And, her hand with ardour catching,
Folded her in close embrace.
Leered upon the maiden's face,
And, her hand with ardour catching,
Folded her in close embrace.
"La, Sir! let alone—you fright me!"
Said the daughter of the Jew:
"Dearest, how those eyes delight me!
Let me love thee, darling, do!"
Said the daughter of the Jew:
"Dearest, how those eyes delight me!
Let me love thee, darling, do!"
"Vat is dish?" the Bailiff muttered,
Rushing in with fury wild;
"Ish your muffins so veil buttered,
Dat you darsh insult ma shild?"
Rushing in with fury wild;
"Ish your muffins so veil buttered,
Dat you darsh insult ma shild?"
"Honourable my intentions,
Good Abednego, I swear!
And I have some small pretensions,
For I am a Baron's heir.
Good Abednego, I swear!
And I have some small pretensions,
For I am a Baron's heir.
If you'll only clear my credit,
And advance a thou * or so,
She's a peeress—I have said it:
Don't you twig, Abednego?"
And advance a thou * or so,
She's a peeress—I have said it:
Don't you twig, Abednego?"
* The fashionable abbreviation for a thousand pounds.
"Datsh a very different matter,"
Said the Bailiff, with a leer;
"But you musht not cut it fatter
Than ta slish will shtand, ma tear!
Said the Bailiff, with a leer;
"But you musht not cut it fatter
Than ta slish will shtand, ma tear!
If you seeksh ma approbation,
You musht quite give up your rigsh,
Alsho you musht join our nashun,
And renounsli ta flesh of pigsh.
You musht quite give up your rigsh,
Alsho you musht join our nashun,
And renounsli ta flesh of pigsh.
Fast as one of Fagin's pupils,
I. O. Uwins did agree!
little plagued with holy scruples
From the starting-post was he.
I. O. Uwins did agree!
little plagued with holy scruples
From the starting-post was he.
But at times a baleful vision
Rose before his shuddering view,
For he knew that circumcision
Was expected from a Jew.
Rose before his shuddering view,
For he knew that circumcision
Was expected from a Jew.
At a meeting of the Rabbis,
Held about the Whitsuntide,
Was this thorough-paced Barabbas
Wedded to his Hebrew bride:
Held about the Whitsuntide,
Was this thorough-paced Barabbas
Wedded to his Hebrew bride:
All his previous debts compounded,
From the sponging-house he came,
And his father's feelings wounded
With reflections on the same.
From the sponging-house he came,
And his father's feelings wounded
With reflections on the same.
But the sire his son accosted—
"Split my wig! if any more
Such a double-dyed apostate
Shall presume to cross my door!
"Split my wig! if any more
Such a double-dyed apostate
Shall presume to cross my door!
Not a penny-piece to save ye
From the kennel or the spout;—
Dinner, John! the pig and gravy!—
Kick this dirty scoundrel out!"
From the kennel or the spout;—
Dinner, John! the pig and gravy!—
Kick this dirty scoundrel out!"
Forth rushed I. O. Uwins, faster
Than all winking—much afraid
That the orders of the master
Would be punctually obeyed:
Than all winking—much afraid
That the orders of the master
Would be punctually obeyed:
Sought his club, and then the sentence
Of expulsion first he saw;
No one dared to own acquaintance
With a Bailiff's son-in-law.
Of expulsion first he saw;
No one dared to own acquaintance
With a Bailiff's son-in-law.
Uselessly, down Bond Street strutting,
Did he greet his friends of yore:
Such a universal cutting
Never man received before:
Did he greet his friends of yore:
Such a universal cutting
Never man received before:
Till at last his pride revolted—
Pale, and lean, and stern he grew;
And his wife Rebecca bolted
With a missionary Jew.
Pale, and lean, and stern he grew;
And his wife Rebecca bolted
With a missionary Jew.
Ye who read this doleful ditty,
Ask ye where is Uwins now?
Wend your way through London city,
Climb to Holborn's lofty brow;
Ask ye where is Uwins now?
Wend your way through London city,
Climb to Holborn's lofty brow;
Near the sign-post of the "Nigger,"
Near the baked-potato shed,
You may see a ghastly figure
With three hats upon his head.
Near the baked-potato shed,
You may see a ghastly figure
With three hats upon his head.
When the evening shades are dusky,
Then the phantom form draws near,
And, with accents low and husky,
Pours effluvium in your ear;
Then the phantom form draws near,
And, with accents low and husky,
Pours effluvium in your ear;
Craving an immediate barter
Of your trousers or surtout;
And you know the Hebrew martyr,
Once the peerless I. O. U
Of your trousers or surtout;
And you know the Hebrew martyr,
Once the peerless I. O. U
Original Size
Original Size
THE KNYGHTE AND THE TAYLZEOUR'S DAUGHTER
Did you ever hear the story—
Old the legend is, and true—
How a knyghte of fame and glory
All aside his armour threw;
Spouted spear and pawned habergeon,
Pledged his sword and surcoat gay,
Sate down cross-legged on the shop-board,
Sate and stitched the livelong day?
Old the legend is, and true—
How a knyghte of fame and glory
All aside his armour threw;
Spouted spear and pawned habergeon,
Pledged his sword and surcoat gay,
Sate down cross-legged on the shop-board,
Sate and stitched the livelong day?
"Taylzeour! not one single shilling
Does my breeches-pocket hold:
I to pay am really willing,
If I only had the gold.
Farmers none can I encounter,
Graziers there are none to kill;
Therefore, prithee, gentle taylzeour,
Bother not about thy bill."
Does my breeches-pocket hold:
I to pay am really willing,
If I only had the gold.
Farmers none can I encounter,
Graziers there are none to kill;
Therefore, prithee, gentle taylzeour,
Bother not about thy bill."
"Good Sir Knyghte, just once too often
Have you tried that slippery trick;
Hearts like mine you cannot soften,
Vainly do you ask for tick.
Christmas and its bills are coming,
Soon will they be showering in;
Therefore, once for all, my rum un,
I expect you'll post the tin.
Have you tried that slippery trick;
Hearts like mine you cannot soften,
Vainly do you ask for tick.
Christmas and its bills are coming,
Soon will they be showering in;
Therefore, once for all, my rum un,
I expect you'll post the tin.
"Mark, Sir Knyghte, that gloomy bayliffe
In the palmer's amice brown;
He shall lead you unto jail, if
Instantly you stump not down."
Deeply swore the young crusader,
But the taylzeour would not hear;
And the gloomy, bearded bayliffe
Evermore kept sneaking near.
In the palmer's amice brown;
He shall lead you unto jail, if
Instantly you stump not down."
Deeply swore the young crusader,
But the taylzeour would not hear;
And the gloomy, bearded bayliffe
Evermore kept sneaking near.
"Neither groat nor maravedi
Have I got my soul to bless;
And I'd feel extremely seedy,
Languishing in vile duresse.
Therefore listen, ruthless taylzeour,
Take my steed and armour free,
Pawn them at thy Hebrew uncle's,
And I'll work the rest for thee."
Have I got my soul to bless;
And I'd feel extremely seedy,
Languishing in vile duresse.
Therefore listen, ruthless taylzeour,
Take my steed and armour free,
Pawn them at thy Hebrew uncle's,
And I'll work the rest for thee."
Lightly leaped he on the shop-board,
Lightly crooked his manly limb,
Lightly drove the glancing needle
Through the growing doublet's rim.
Gaberdines in countless number
Did the taylzeour knyghte repair,
And entirely on cucumber
And on cabbage lived he there.
Lightly crooked his manly limb,
Lightly drove the glancing needle
Through the growing doublet's rim.
Gaberdines in countless number
Did the taylzeour knyghte repair,
And entirely on cucumber
And on cabbage lived he there.
Once his weary task beguiling
With a low and plaintive song,
That good knyghte o'er miles of broadcloth
Drove the hissing goose along;
From her lofty latticed window
Looked the taylzeour's daughter down,
And she instantly discovered
That her heart was not her own.
With a low and plaintive song,
That good knyghte o'er miles of broadcloth
Drove the hissing goose along;
From her lofty latticed window
Looked the taylzeour's daughter down,
And she instantly discovered
That her heart was not her own.
"Canst thou love me, gentle stranger?"
Picking at a pink she stood—
And the knyghte at once admitted
That he rather thought he could.
"He who weds me shall have riches,
Gold, and lands, and houses free."
"For a single pair of—small-clothes,
I would roam the world with thee!"
Picking at a pink she stood—
And the knyghte at once admitted
That he rather thought he could.
"He who weds me shall have riches,
Gold, and lands, and houses free."
"For a single pair of—small-clothes,
I would roam the world with thee!"
Then she flung him down the tickets—
Well the knyghte their import knew—
"Take this gold, and win thy armour
From the unbelieving Jew.
Though in garments mean and lowly,
Thou wouldst roam the world with me,
Only as a belted warrior,
Stranger, will I wed with, thee!"
Well the knyghte their import knew—
"Take this gold, and win thy armour
From the unbelieving Jew.
Though in garments mean and lowly,
Thou wouldst roam the world with me,
Only as a belted warrior,
Stranger, will I wed with, thee!"
Original Size
At the feast of good Saint Stitchem,
In the middle of the Spring,
There was some superior jousting,
By the order of the King.
"Valiant knyghtes!" proclaimed the monarch,
"You will please to understand,
He who bears himself most bravely
Shall obtain my daughter's hand."
In the middle of the Spring,
There was some superior jousting,
By the order of the King.
"Valiant knyghtes!" proclaimed the monarch,
"You will please to understand,
He who bears himself most bravely
Shall obtain my daughter's hand."
Well and bravely did they bear them,
Bravely battled, one and all;
But the bravest in the tourney
Was a warrior stout and tall.
None could tell his name or lineage,
None could meet him in the field,
And a goose regardant proper
Hissed along his azure shield.
Bravely battled, one and all;
But the bravest in the tourney
Was a warrior stout and tall.
None could tell his name or lineage,
None could meet him in the field,
And a goose regardant proper
Hissed along his azure shield.
"Warrior, thou hast won my daughter!"
But the champion bowed his knee,
"Royal blood may not be wasted
On a simple knight like me.
She I love is meek and lowly;
But her heart is kind and free;
Also, there is tin forthcoming,
Though she is of low degree."
But the champion bowed his knee,
"Royal blood may not be wasted
On a simple knight like me.
She I love is meek and lowly;
But her heart is kind and free;
Also, there is tin forthcoming,
Though she is of low degree."
Slowly rose that nameless warrior,
Slowly turned his steps aside,
Passed the lattice where the princess
Sate in beauty, sate in pride.
Passed the row of noble ladies,
Hied him to an humbler seat,
And in silence laid the chaplet
At the taylzeour's daughter's feet.
Slowly turned his steps aside,
Passed the lattice where the princess
Sate in beauty, sate in pride.
Passed the row of noble ladies,
Hied him to an humbler seat,
And in silence laid the chaplet
At the taylzeour's daughter's feet.
Original Size
Original Size
THE MIDNIGHT VISIT
It was the Lord of Castlereagh, he sat within his room,
His arms were crossed upon his breast, his face was
marked with gloom;
They said that St Helena's Isle had rendered up its
charge,
That France was bristling high in arms—the Emperor at
large.
His arms were crossed upon his breast, his face was
marked with gloom;
They said that St Helena's Isle had rendered up its
charge,
That France was bristling high in arms—the Emperor at
large.
'Twas midnight! all the lamps were dim, and dull as
death the street,
It might be that the watchman slept that night upon his
beat,
When lo! a heavy foot was heard to creak upon the
stair,
The door revolved upon its hinge—Great Heaven!—What
enters there?
death the street,
It might be that the watchman slept that night upon his
beat,
When lo! a heavy foot was heard to creak upon the
stair,
The door revolved upon its hinge—Great Heaven!—What
enters there?
A little man, of stately mien, with slow and solemn
stride;
His hands are crossed upon his back, his coat is opened
wide;
And on his vest of green he wears an eagle and a
star,—
Saint George! protect us! 'tis The Man—the thunder-
bolt of war!
stride;
His hands are crossed upon his back, his coat is opened
wide;
And on his vest of green he wears an eagle and a
star,—
Saint George! protect us! 'tis The Man—the thunder-
bolt of war!
Is that the famous hat that waved along Marengo's
ridge?
Are these the spurs of Austerlitz—the boots of Lodi's
bridge?
Leads he the conscript swarm again from France's hornet
hive?
ridge?
Are these the spurs of Austerlitz—the boots of Lodi's
bridge?
Leads he the conscript swarm again from France's hornet
hive?
What seeks the fell usurper here, in Britain, and alive?
Pale grew the Lord of Castlereagh, his tongue was parched
and dry,
As in his brain he felt the glare of that tremendous eye;
What wonder if he shrunk in fear, for who could meet the
glance
Of him who reared, 'mid Russian snows, the gonfalon of
France?
Pale grew the Lord of Castlereagh, his tongue was parched
and dry,
As in his brain he felt the glare of that tremendous eye;
What wonder if he shrunk in fear, for who could meet the
glance
Of him who reared, 'mid Russian snows, the gonfalon of
France?
From the side-pocket of his vest a pinch the despot
took,
Yet not a whit did he relax the sternness of his look:
"Thou thoughtst the lion was afar, but he hath burst the
chain—
The watchword for to-night is France—the answer St
Heléne.
took,
Yet not a whit did he relax the sternness of his look:
"Thou thoughtst the lion was afar, but he hath burst the
chain—
The watchword for to-night is France—the answer St
Heléne.
"And didst thou deem the barren isle, or ocean waves,
could bind
The master of the universe—the monarch of mankind?
I tell thee, fool! the world itself is all too small for me;
I laugh to scorn thy bolts and bars—I burst them, and
am free.
could bind
The master of the universe—the monarch of mankind?
I tell thee, fool! the world itself is all too small for me;
I laugh to scorn thy bolts and bars—I burst them, and
am free.
"Thou thinkst that England hates me! Mark!—This
very night my name
Was thundered in its capital with tumult and acclaim!
They saw me, knew me, owned my power—Proud lord!
I say, beware!
There be men within the Surrey side, who know to do
and dare!
very night my name
Was thundered in its capital with tumult and acclaim!
They saw me, knew me, owned my power—Proud lord!
I say, beware!
There be men within the Surrey side, who know to do
and dare!
"To-morrow in thy very teeth my standard will I rear—
Ay, well that ashen cheek of thine may blanch and shrink
with fear!
To-morrow night another town shall sink in ghastly
flames;
And as I crossed the Borodin, so shall I cross the
Thames!
Ay, well that ashen cheek of thine may blanch and shrink
with fear!
To-morrow night another town shall sink in ghastly
flames;
And as I crossed the Borodin, so shall I cross the
Thames!
"Thou'lt seize me, wilt thou, ere the dawn? Weak
lordling, do thy worst!
These hands ere now have broke thy chains, thy fetters
they have burst.
Yet, wouldst thou know my resting-place? Behold, 'tis
written there!
And let thy coward myrmidons approach me if they dare!"
lordling, do thy worst!
These hands ere now have broke thy chains, thy fetters
they have burst.
Yet, wouldst thou know my resting-place? Behold, 'tis
written there!
And let thy coward myrmidons approach me if they dare!"
Another pinch, another stride—he passes through the
door—
"Was it a phantom or a man was standing on the floor?
And could that be the Emperor that moved before my eyes?
Ah, yes! too sure it was himself, for here the paper lies!"
door—
"Was it a phantom or a man was standing on the floor?
And could that be the Emperor that moved before my eyes?
Ah, yes! too sure it was himself, for here the paper lies!"
With, trembling hands Lord Castlereagh undid the mystic
scroll,
With glassy eye essayed to read, for fear was on his soul—
"What's here?—'At Astley's, every night, the play of
Moscow's Fall!
Napoleon, for the thousandth time, by Mr Gomersal!'"
scroll,
With glassy eye essayed to read, for fear was on his soul—
"What's here?—'At Astley's, every night, the play of
Moscow's Fall!
Napoleon, for the thousandth time, by Mr Gomersal!'"
Original Size
Original Size
THE LAY OF THE LOVELORN.
Comrades, you may pass the rosy. With permission of
the chair,
I shall leave you for a little, for I'd like to take the air.
Whether 'twas the sauce at dinner, or that glass of ginger-
beer,
Or these strong cheroots, I know not, but I feel a little queer.
the chair,
I shall leave you for a little, for I'd like to take the air.
Whether 'twas the sauce at dinner, or that glass of ginger-
beer,
Or these strong cheroots, I know not, but I feel a little queer.
Let me go. Nay, Chuckster, blow me, 'pon my soul, this
is too bad!
When you want me, ask the waiter; he knows where I'm
to be had.
Whew! This is a great relief now! Let me but undo my
stock;
Resting here beneath the porch, my nerves will steady
like a rock.
is too bad!
When you want me, ask the waiter; he knows where I'm
to be had.
Whew! This is a great relief now! Let me but undo my
stock;
Resting here beneath the porch, my nerves will steady
like a rock.
In my ears I hear the singing of a lot of favourite tunes—
Bless my heart, how very odd! Why, surely there's a
brace of moons!
See! the stars! how bright they twinkle, winking with a
frosty glare,
Like my faithless cousin Amy when she drove me to
despair.
Bless my heart, how very odd! Why, surely there's a
brace of moons!
See! the stars! how bright they twinkle, winking with a
frosty glare,
Like my faithless cousin Amy when she drove me to
despair.
Oh, my cousin, spider-hearted! Oh, my Amy! No, con-
found it!
I must wear the mournful willow,—all around my hat
I've bound it.
Falser than the bank of fancy, frailer than a shilling glove,
Puppet to a father's anger, minion to a nabob's love!
found it!
I must wear the mournful willow,—all around my hat
I've bound it.
Falser than the bank of fancy, frailer than a shilling glove,
Puppet to a father's anger, minion to a nabob's love!
Is it well to wish thee happy? Having known me, could
you ever
Stoop to marry half a heart, and little more than half a
liver?
Happy! Damme! Thou shalt lower to his level day by
day,
Changing from the best of china to the commonest of
clay.
you ever
Stoop to marry half a heart, and little more than half a
liver?
Happy! Damme! Thou shalt lower to his level day by
day,
Changing from the best of china to the commonest of
clay.
As the husband is, the wife is,—he is stomach-plagued
and old;
And his curry soups will make thy cheek the colour of
his gold.
When his feeble love is sated, he will hold thee surely
then
Something lower than his hookah,—something less than
his cayenne.
and old;
And his curry soups will make thy cheek the colour of
his gold.
When his feeble love is sated, he will hold thee surely
then
Something lower than his hookah,—something less than
his cayenne.
What is this? His eyes are pinky. Was't the claret?
Oh, no, no,—
Bless your soul! it was the salmon,—salmon always makes
him so.
Take him to thy dainty chamber—sooth him with thy
lightest fancies;
He will understand thee, won't he?—pay thee with a
lover's glances?
Oh, no, no,—
Bless your soul! it was the salmon,—salmon always makes
him so.
Take him to thy dainty chamber—sooth him with thy
lightest fancies;
He will understand thee, won't he?—pay thee with a
lover's glances?
Louder than the loudest trumpet, harsh as harshest
ophicleide,
Nasal respirations answer the endearments of his bride.
Sweet response, delightful music! Gaze upon thy noble
charge,
Till the spirit fill thy bosom that inspired the meek
Laffarge.
ophicleide,
Nasal respirations answer the endearments of his bride.
Sweet response, delightful music! Gaze upon thy noble
charge,
Till the spirit fill thy bosom that inspired the meek
Laffarge.
Better thou wert dead before me,—better, better that I
stood,
Looking on thy murdered body, like the injured Daniel
Good!
Better thou and I were lying, cold and timber-stiff and
dead,
With a pan of burning charcoal underneath our nuptial
bed!
stood,
Looking on thy murdered body, like the injured Daniel
Good!
Better thou and I were lying, cold and timber-stiff and
dead,
With a pan of burning charcoal underneath our nuptial
bed!
Cursed be the Bank of England's notes, that tempt the
soul to sin!
Cursed be the want of acres,—doubly cursed the want of tin!
Cursed be the marriage-contract, that enslaved thy soul
to greed!
Cursed be the sallow lawyer, that prepared and drew the
deed!
soul to sin!
Cursed be the want of acres,—doubly cursed the want of tin!
Cursed be the marriage-contract, that enslaved thy soul
to greed!
Cursed be the sallow lawyer, that prepared and drew the
deed!
Cursed be his foul apprentice, who the loathsome fees did
earn!
Cursed be the clerk and parson,—cursed be the whole
concern!
Oh, 'tis well that I should bluster,—much I'm like to
make of that;
Better comfort have I found in singing "All Around my
Hat."
earn!
Cursed be the clerk and parson,—cursed be the whole
concern!
Oh, 'tis well that I should bluster,—much I'm like to
make of that;
Better comfort have I found in singing "All Around my
Hat."
But that song, so wildly plaintive, palls upon my British
ears.
'Twill not do to pine for ever,—I am getting up in
years.
Can't I turn the honest penny, scribbling for the weekly
press,
And in writing Sunday libels drown my private wretched-
ness?
Oh, to feel the wild pulsation that in manhood's dawn I
knew,
When my days were all before me, and my years were
twenty-two!
ears.
'Twill not do to pine for ever,—I am getting up in
years.
Can't I turn the honest penny, scribbling for the weekly
press,
And in writing Sunday libels drown my private wretched-
ness?
Oh, to feel the wild pulsation that in manhood's dawn I
knew,
When my days were all before me, and my years were
twenty-two!
When I smoked my independent pipe along the Quadrant
wide,
With the many larks of London flaring up on every side;
wide,
With the many larks of London flaring up on every side;
When I went the pace so wildly, caring little what might
come;
Coffee-milling care and sorrow, with a nose-adapted thumb;
Felt the exquisite enjoyment, tossing nightly off, oh
heavens!
Brandy at the Cider Cellars, kidneys smoking-hot at
Evans'!
come;
Coffee-milling care and sorrow, with a nose-adapted thumb;
Felt the exquisite enjoyment, tossing nightly off, oh
heavens!
Brandy at the Cider Cellars, kidneys smoking-hot at
Evans'!