The Poetical Works of Walter C. Smith ... Revised by the Author: Coll. ed. |
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 | The Poetical Works of Walter C. Smith |  |
PEPPE
Ugly was not the word for Peppe:
His cheek was scarred with a crimson gash,
He had squinting eyes, and a limping step,
And a long lip furzed with a red moustache,
Sharp-pointed teeth, like a saw, and black
Finger-nails, like a vulture's claw,
And all the skin of him spotted and slack,
Like a mouldy old parchment deed of the law.
His cheek was scarred with a crimson gash,
He had squinting eyes, and a limping step,
And a long lip furzed with a red moustache,
Sharp-pointed teeth, like a saw, and black
Finger-nails, like a vulture's claw,
And all the skin of him spotted and slack,
Like a mouldy old parchment deed of the law.
Yet never a maiden had silkier curls
Scented and glossy and soft as a dove;
And never silkier voice among girls
Lisped, in soft accents, of beauty and love;
Oiliest curls, and the oiliest speech
Talking the wildest thoughts ever I heard—
Thoughts of a kind it were fitter to screech,
Dropt like the notes of a singing bird.
Scented and glossy and soft as a dove;
And never silkier voice among girls
Lisped, in soft accents, of beauty and love;
Oiliest curls, and the oiliest speech
Talking the wildest thoughts ever I heard—
Thoughts of a kind it were fitter to screech,
Dropt like the notes of a singing bird.
275
Softly he spoke about fell Revolutions,
Of Rank, Rule, and Title and Capital gone,
Swift overthrow of our old institutions,
And blood from the Barricades splashing the throne,
Burning of churches, and burying gods,
Treating the priests like the rats in their holes,
Ruin of all our old life with its modes
Of building up order, and saving of souls.
Of Rank, Rule, and Title and Capital gone,
Swift overthrow of our old institutions,
And blood from the Barricades splashing the throne,
Burning of churches, and burying gods,
Treating the priests like the rats in their holes,
Ruin of all our old life with its modes
Of building up order, and saving of souls.
Sometimes he went off, when little expected,
But to come back, when as little desired,
Now looking haggard and lean and dejected,
Tricked now in garb that he plainly admired;
Leaving, he went where no seeking could find him,
Returning, no care could escape from his view,
And when he went, he left trouble behind him,
And coming back, he brought trouble anew.
But to come back, when as little desired,
Now looking haggard and lean and dejected,
Tricked now in garb that he plainly admired;
Leaving, he went where no seeking could find him,
Returning, no care could escape from his view,
And when he went, he left trouble behind him,
And coming back, he brought trouble anew.
For, be his luck what it might, we were sure
Storms would be brewing the moment he came,
Chills would be falling on friendships pure,
Doubts would be cast upon some honoured name:
Mischief followed wherever he went,
And some bright eyes would with tears be dim;
And yet he looked smiling and innocent,
And we never could bring the thing home to him.
Storms would be brewing the moment he came,
Chills would be falling on friendships pure,
Doubts would be cast upon some honoured name:
Mischief followed wherever he went,
And some bright eyes would with tears be dim;
And yet he looked smiling and innocent,
And we never could bring the thing home to him.
Last time we met was in seventy-two,
Just when the mad Commune had burst;
Jewelled and furred like a Rotterdam Jew,
Hardly I knew the fellow at first;
But he came up with a smile, and a look
Nothing could ever the least embarrass,
Saying, “Ah! here is your wished-for Book,
And I picked it up at the siege of Paris.”
Just when the mad Commune had burst;
Jewelled and furred like a Rotterdam Jew,
Hardly I knew the fellow at first;
But he came up with a smile, and a look
Nothing could ever the least embarrass,
Saying, “Ah! here is your wished-for Book,
And I picked it up at the siege of Paris.”
Eh? was I wrong to give him his price,
Instead of giving him straight in charge?
A book so scarce it was only twice
Offered for sale to the world at large!
Ah! I so longed for it! just at the sight,
I felt a knocking about my knee:—
And in the fury of that wild night,
Strange that the rogue should have thought about me!
Instead of giving him straight in charge?
A book so scarce it was only twice
Offered for sale to the world at large!
Ah! I so longed for it! just at the sight,
I felt a knocking about my knee:—
And in the fury of that wild night,
Strange that the rogue should have thought about me!
I knew that one in the Louvre lay:—
Oh what a hang-dog look he had!
And something within me tried to say,
“Now, if you buy it you're just as bad.”
Yet I must have it; there is a score
Will give him his money if I refuse—
To think of me, now, in that wild uproar!
And he saved it perhaps from the Petroleuse!
Oh what a hang-dog look he had!
And something within me tried to say,
“Now, if you buy it you're just as bad.”
Yet I must have it; there is a score
Will give him his money if I refuse—
To think of me, now, in that wild uproar!
And he saved it perhaps from the Petroleuse!
| The Poetical Works of Walter C. Smith | |