The English Dance of Death from the designs of Thomas Rowlandson, with metrical illustrations, by the author of "Doctor Syntax" [i.e. William Combe] |
 | I. |
| II. |
 | The English Dance of Death |  |
But a most strange event drew nigh,
To cut short this Soliloquy.
—The clock struck twelve, a gentle knock
Bid John the Mansion door unlock:
He took a light, and left his chair,
To see who ask'd admittance there.
A horrid Figure met his eyes.—
John instant thought of all his Lies.
And struck with fear, aloud he squall'd:
Murder, and Fire, and Thieves he bawl'd;
Then hobbled off at helter skelter,
And in the cellar sought for shelter.
—My Lord and Lady were gone out,
To some Fandango, Ball, or Rout,
And all the upper Servants too,
As second-table gentry do,
Had, to ape their betters gone
To a smart party of their own.
—The maids up stairs with Tom were sitting;
For he was sick, and they were knitting.
They heard the noise;—Tom, with a grin,
Said thieves were somewhere breaking in:
Then seiz'd a pistol and a sword,
And swore that none should rob my Lord.
As Betty shriek'd, said jolly Nell,
There are no thieves, I sure can tell:
'Tis that fool John, who, in a dream,
Sees some strange thing that makes him scream:
And if down stairs we gently creep,
There we shall find him fast asleep.
'Twas but last week that he was found
Bawling and sprawling on the ground,
Swearing he dream'd that he was drown'd.
—They went, and what a sight was there?
Death sitting in the Porter's chair:
While some strange bird was heard to squall,
And flapp his wings around the Hall.
Tom dropp'd the pistol from his hand:
Nor could his strength the sword command.
Bet shook with fear, nor was she slack,
To trace her hurrying footsteps back;
While poor, fat Nelly, in her fright,
Fell from the stair-case, at the sight.
It was a most tremendous fall,
As she plung'd headlong to the Hall:
Her forehead struck the marble floor:—
She heav'd a sigh, and spoke no more.
To cut short this Soliloquy.
—The clock struck twelve, a gentle knock
Bid John the Mansion door unlock:
He took a light, and left his chair,
To see who ask'd admittance there.
A horrid Figure met his eyes.—
John instant thought of all his Lies.
And struck with fear, aloud he squall'd:
Murder, and Fire, and Thieves he bawl'd;
Then hobbled off at helter skelter,
And in the cellar sought for shelter.
—My Lord and Lady were gone out,
To some Fandango, Ball, or Rout,
235
As second-table gentry do,
Had, to ape their betters gone
To a smart party of their own.
—The maids up stairs with Tom were sitting;
For he was sick, and they were knitting.
They heard the noise;—Tom, with a grin,
Said thieves were somewhere breaking in:
Then seiz'd a pistol and a sword,
And swore that none should rob my Lord.
As Betty shriek'd, said jolly Nell,
There are no thieves, I sure can tell:
'Tis that fool John, who, in a dream,
Sees some strange thing that makes him scream:
And if down stairs we gently creep,
There we shall find him fast asleep.
'Twas but last week that he was found
Bawling and sprawling on the ground,
Swearing he dream'd that he was drown'd.
—They went, and what a sight was there?
Death sitting in the Porter's chair:
236
And flapp his wings around the Hall.
Tom dropp'd the pistol from his hand:
Nor could his strength the sword command.
Bet shook with fear, nor was she slack,
To trace her hurrying footsteps back;
While poor, fat Nelly, in her fright,
Fell from the stair-case, at the sight.
It was a most tremendous fall,
As she plung'd headlong to the Hall:
Her forehead struck the marble floor:—
She heav'd a sigh, and spoke no more.
| The English Dance of Death | |