University of Virginia Library

DANIEL ROOK.

To the Editor of the Literary Journal.

Sir,

The three last numbers of Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine contain three cantos of an epic poem, called Daniel O'Rourke. The story, of which this is a new version, is very old, and probably familiar to a great many people. In an old Manchester Almanac, I find the version which I send you. It may have been from the pen of Mr. Words-worth, as it has much of the characteristic simplicity of Betty Foy, Goody Blake, and Harry Gill.

Would you hear of Daniel Rook,
How a journey long he took?
How he travelled to the moon,
And got back again quite soon?
Daniel Rook, beside a lake,
Saw the dimples breezes make;
Saw the skies reflected shine,
And Daniel thought it very fine.
Then an eagle came along,
Very large and very strong;
Said the eagle, Daniel Rook,
Pray what is't at which you look?
Then full boldly Daniel Rook
Unto the monstrous eagle spoke;—
I am looking at the lake,
Seeing how the waters shake.
Said the eagle, no more slack,
Daniel get upon my back!
So the monstrous eagle took
On his shoulders Daniel Rook.
Up he flew, like sin and death,
Never stopping to take breath;
Daniel thought he'd ne'er have done,
When above he spied the moon;
Like a cheese without a rind,
O how gloriously it shined!
Like a cheese that's cut in two,
Aha! said Daniel, how d'ye do?
Said the eagle, Daniel bold,
Of that there horn you must take hold;
So the simple Daniel did
Just as the monstrous eagle bid.
Then away the eagle flew,
Leaving Daniel looking blue;
Now I'm sure, said Daniel bold,
Hanging here I shall take cold.
Then the man in the moon came out,
Picked his teeth, and looked about;
Mr. Daniel Rook, said he,
Good morning, what do you want with me?
Said Daniel, how is your wife to-day?
She is in a family way;
I fear we shan't have room enough,
So I beg, Daniel, you'd be off.
I can't, said Daniel—You must, said he—
I won't, said Daniel, it can't be—
Very well, said the man in the moon,
We shall see that very soon.
In he went, and out he strode,
With a crowbar died with blood;
Sure and certain aim he took,
Knocked off the horn and Daniel Rook.
Fall'n from his high estate,
Daniel went at no small rate;
Nor can he tell, so queer he feels,
Which is his head, and which his heels.
He saw a flock of wild geese nigh,
And long and loud he heard them cry—
Daniel Rook, where will you go?
Indeed, said Daniel, I don't know;
But by the course which now I take,
I guess I'm falling in the lake,
Then said the geese—why don't you look,
And fall on dry land, Daniel Rook?