'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition

When wearied fancy cares no more to rove,
It finds in thee, great Will, a shady Grove:
To put it plainly, without innuendo,
Art thou a lucus, Sir, a non lucendo?

DR. MORTIMER GRANVILLE.

To storm-tost woman his advice is short,
Take refuge in the best and oldest Port!
“Then” (to himself) “if this should fail to suit her,
I will apply the tap of my percuteur.”

LADY SWEETLIPS.

Lady Sweetlips once asked gallant Admiral Harry
Pitching into her port on return from a trip,
Which vessel was nicest his fortunes to carry:—
So he moored alongside, and piped, “Your ladyship.”

CARDINAL NEWMAN.

Too vast a subject to define,
That varied Doctor Newman—
A poet, preacher, and divine,
And everything but—human.

S. MORLEY.

All Morley touched it turned to gold,
The fairies had his cradle's rocking
No coffer could such treasures hold,
And so he put them in his stocking.

809

THE FIRST WHIG.—(Dr Johnson.)

Very old, very true is the story,
And the lesson it teaches is big—
That (we need not say who was first Tory)
The Devil was quite the first Whig.

TO A MILLIONAIRE THREAD MANUFACTURER.—(Since Bankrupt.)

Your fortune, I am told, is vast,
Your acres widely spread;
But how can that fair fortune last,
That hangs but by a thread?

Ah, it will soon no record leave,
Bound by that feeble band;
Unless the thread to which you cleave,
Is held by God's own hand.

TO A LADY ON THE LOSS OF HER BEAUTY.

Has cruel sickness been thy lot,
That bade thy graces flee?
But love is blind to every blot,
And knows no change in thee.

Thy beauty sweetly to me calls,
With all its ancient art;
'Tis pictured by the memory's walls,
And written in the heart.

Though all the waves of slander toss,
No shadow thee can shame;
My love is conscious of no loss,
And thou art still the same.

THE TRUE PRINCE.

I sent a gift to one in royal place,
And have heard nothing since;
The beggar thanked me with a royal grace;
Now, say, which was the Prince?

810

KING CLOD.

Once low we bowed to ladies' tread,
The gilded coach, the beadle's rod;
But now the dung-cart goes ahead,
And we are governed by King Clod.

THE NEW PEER.

The doctor came and shook his head,
And swore the patient must be bled,
But what the malady might be,
With all his skill he could not see.

He sent the sufferer to his bed,
And hoped the sickness soon would flee.
But ere the night had flitted by,
The patient died, of—Dignity.

IS LIFE WORTH LIVING?

“Is our life worth the living?” she sighed
To the barber, with tears in her eye;
“If your hair keeps its gold,” he replied,
“You should certainly never say, Dye.”

Her pet curate she asked in the Zoo,
And he said with unclerical glee;
“A good living with nothing to do,
Is the only good living I see.”

To the doctor she turned with a shiver,
As she told of her terrible nights;
“It's a question,” he laughed, “of the liver,
And a little perhaps of the lights.”

THE FIRST MAN.

Boy, fired with glory's thirst, man,
Said in his simple lad's tone,
When asked, Who was the First man?
“Of course it must be Gladstone.”

811

He is the First man, madam,
Of quite a new creation;
But He has fall'n, like Adam,
And dragged with him the nation.

IRELAND.

Land of black-thorn, black-leg, and reverend rogue
Land of cut-throat, cut-lass, and treason's brogue!
Land of potatoes, pigs, and Sovereign Blarney!
Land of kill-women cowards and Killarney!

THE SECOND STEP.

Though the first step is often bad,
And every one would rather
Avoid it, if the chance he had—
It's worse, man—a step father!

THE VALETUDINARIAN.

Sickness for many suffering years he bore,
And spent on hungry doctors half his wealth;
He had defied a hundred ills and more,
But died at the first symptoms of—good health.

TRUE LOVE.

True love is bounded not by blood,
Estranging mountains or the flood;
'Tis vast as nature, strong as law
That makes the worlds together draw;
And, universal as the air,
Deems itself kin to all that's fair.

DEATH THE LEVELLER.

Death all distinctions levels, Churchyards show
What man was made of, ere he went below;
And thus the Scotsmen, of the highest worth,
Dying return to oatmeal not to earth;
While statesmen and divines who crawled to fame,
Buried and changed to worms will crawl the same.

812

MODERN POETS.

As port and prejudice expound,
In common-rooms their graces;
So modern poets most abound,
In cant and common-places?

PROPRIETY.

Propriety no prouder dream conceives,
Than carriages;
And selfishness its highest form achieves,
In marriages.

THE GOOSE THAT DOES NOT LAY GOLDEN EGGS.

Say, where does folly, free from every shackle,
Evolve its very quintessence and quiddity?
In the official and officious cackle
Of government's stipendiary stupidity.

A PERSONAGE IN POLITICS.

There was an old statesman, alas!
Who lived in a palace of glass;
And he killed all his foes,
How do you suppose?
Heaps on heaps, with the jaw of an ass.

To the halt and the maimed and the blind,
He would offer a “piece of his mind”;
Which they treasured (poor fools!)
Quite as Scriptural rules;
Till at length there was none left behind.

So they then forbade him to speak,
Except once (for his health) in the week;
And they set him to hewing
Down trees, and pursuing
The science of quibbling, and Greek.

813

HUXLEY'S BATHYBIUS.

Oh, what a bathos was in Huxley's brain,
To find the germ of life beneath the main,
And the first throb of Homer's epic chime,
In vile abortions of the ocean slime!
For broader Science, with a brighter gleam,
Has proved Bathybius but a dotard's dream.
But how can mortal scientific be,
Who disbelieves the Book and dines at three?

THE MARQUESS OF QUEENSBERRY.

His blows are favours that opponents rue,
And if not always “tender” they are “true”;
“Hit hard all round!—“this is his lordship's creed—
“And if you are not respected you be d---d!”

DR. RICHARDSON.

Richardson gives us homes, whose bricks are porous,
And calls these houses much the healthiest for us,
But lives himself in walls, by Science hated,
With stones (like his mad schemes) unventilated.

AN EPITAPH.

[Infamy was his fame; he served his Master well]

Infamy was his fame; he served his Master well;
Destruction was his game; he sold all he could sell;
His principle was I; his policy was prate,
He left a reeking Stye, where he had found a State.

A MODERN POLITICIAN.

With loud coarse voice, a coat not free from stain,
A castle tall in Ireland or in—Spain,
Dangerous foe, more dangerous ally,
The slave of slander and “Adullamy,”
The fool of figures and the miser's dole,
To save a penny and to lose a soul,
A Charlatan by choice, a brute by nature,—
—Behold the hero of the Legislature!

814

EPITAPH.

[Here reposes the good Doctor Latitude]

Here reposes the good Doctor Latitude,
Who expired in the godliest attitude,
Whose last word was a holy beatitude,
And to Heaven went off on a platitude,
The poor victim of Goddess Ingratitude.
“Amen, and God bless her.”!
Said his holy successor.
Amen.

THE TAILOR AND HIS WOODEN COAT.

A COMMON EPITAPH.

No coat had I to clothe my naked back,
And all my little stock of goods was gone;
Of sympathizing friends I had no lack,
But all declined to put one garment on.

Then, as the winter gripped my labouring breath,
And I had spent my last long-hoarded groat,
I sought the Tailor whom we misname Death,
Who clad me in his goodly wooden coat.

CLAUDIA.

Said Claudia, in her acid tone,
With that familiar pout;
“God made the world for men alone,
And left poor women out.”

Said I, and gazed with open stare,
At her redundant shelves:
“God knew they would take better care,
Than he could, of themselves.”

GORDON.

He did his duty, his resistless sword
Waved ever in the cause of freedom's will;
He loved his country much and more his Lord,
In peace and war the same true Hero still.

815

THE GOLDEN-HEADED IMAGE.

His head was gold and stood among the stars,
His leg of iron went their wilful way,
That knew no law and mocked even sacred bars,
And yet his feet were wrought of miry clay.
And as, colossus-like, bestriding all,
He dragged the Empire down that gave him trust,
His feet beneath him met the traitor's fall,
And he himself was shattered into dust.

THE GAMBLER.

Stript of his credit, power, and all but shirt,
And stung to frenzy by the sticking stain,
He threw his country's honour in the dirt,
To make a stepping-stone to rise again;
And in the gambler's fond and final cast,
He was so blinded by his fatal pride,
That (contemplating murder to the last)
By his own hand he sank a suicide.

FORTUNE'S FAVOURITE.

His own was every human gift,
To govern and refine,
That above meaner things might lift,
And mingle with Divine;
To him all heaven appeared to ope,
Earth promised all things fair;
Born to beget a nation's hope,
And to bequeathe despair.

WEIGHED AND FOUND WANTING.

He had his golden chances—none had more,
And all a willing world was at his feet;
In him the statesman's craft, the scholar's lore,
With every mental grace conspired to meet.
Men honoured him and hung upon his breath,
Devoted victims to his chariot bound;
But, not on trial faithful unto death,
Weighed in the balance he was wanting found.

816

THE MODERN GALBA.

Omnium consensu capax imperii, nisi imperàsset.”—Tacitus

Most worthy he to rule the land
Were thought, with no denial,
A statesman who would ever stand—
Had he not had the trial.

ROME.

Rome, loving to play fast and loose,
As suits her wise Commander,
Once owed her safety to a goose,
Now to her Propaganda.

THE CHURCH HOUSE.

I

Had the Christian days of old,
Churches wooden, hearts of gold;
Now reversed have we the good,—
Churches golden, hearts of wood.

II

Once, like the Master, knew no rest or home
The Church, whose suffering saints were all her pride;
Now she herself would build a palace dome,
And leave the Master in the cold outside.

CHANGE.

Though dear to mortal man is change,
And sweeter far than honey—
The rolling sea, the mountain range,
And all that stirring is and strange—
The sweetest “change” is money.

817

TO BISHOP KING.

Right reverend Bishop, kindly ever,
Though bigots hate and hunt thee down
With persecution, no endeavour
Can take away thy saintly crown;
If fanatics against thee thunder
Confusion, at their prayers or wine,
And nod the Law and Learning blunder,
Thou rulest yet by right divine;
To Church and faith and duty loyal,
Should coward stab or vermin sting,
Thou hast a heart serenely royal,
And of our love art chosen King.

SUPPER.

Last night I supped with one, who furnished well
My lower story and my upper;
And learnt, where wit and wine together dwell,
One swallow does not make a supper.

PHYSICK.

My child was ailing sore, and I had spent
Upon my sapient doctor many a “fiver,”
When nurse (in whom all wise prescriptions blent)
Cured him for sixpence with some “kid-reviver.”

A PILL FOR THE DOCTOR.

You, who know more of drugs and dollars,
Appealed the other day to scholars,
And calmly said, if I had been a
Scholar I should have said Heléna.
But Homer, who is called a poet,
And had a little Greek, should know it;
And he, unless he strangely fell in a
Mistake, wrote plainly oft of Helena.

TO THE MOSCOW STUDENT.

Greeting to you, Moscow student,
England sends who hears your cry:
Mind you nothing do imprudent,
Only keep your power dry.

818

THE OLD MAN OMNISCIENT.

Proteus has mind of mighty stature,
That mightier looks in worlds of pelf,
Yet little knows of legislature,
A little less of human-nature,
And nought whatever of himself.

THE WOODMAN'S AXE.

The English woodman Ireland sent an axe,
Its upas-tree to shunt,
But bear it could not such a grievous tax,
For it, alas, was—Blunt.

THE “SICK WOMAN.”

The poor “Sick woman's” sufferings would not cease,
It seemed no medicine could assist her,
No skill could give her the desired release,
Not Gladstone's pills nor Balfour's blister;
At last the Doctor said, “Depart in piece,
O Erin sister!”

THE SIERRA LEONE OF POLITICS.

The curse of every Government that fell,
Dead block to business and the dinner bell,
To Opposition doubtful joy, for knave
A life of profit, and the statesman's grave.

WILFRID BLUNT.

The paladins of old went south and north,
Despising prudence and the purse,
But our crusader dares not venture forth,
Unless he has with him his nurse;
No doubt he fights, not always though by day
And takes good care his vessel floats—
Whoever sinks—and dearly loves to play
At hero, behind petticoats.

819

POLITICS.

Ha, said the Devil, if I fail with wine,
Or cannot damn a soul with woman's tricks,
One more and never-failing trap is mine,
—I send my pupils into Politics.

THE ANGEL.

An angel came—I thought in love—
With more than earthly grace and glow;
It was an angel, though not from above,
But from below

W. TAYLER.

Tayler stood in stormy place
Fought in England's need for brothers;
England crowned him—with disgrace;
Wherefore?—To encourage others.

THE PRINCE AND THE DRAGON.

Wise Labouchere, the wit of Town,
Would save a sixpence if he lost a “Crown;”
Though penny-wise, he means no ill;
But thinks we are going down the hill,
And so, to ease the Royal wagon,
He plays the careful part of Drag-on.

WRITTEN IN A LADY'S PHOTO ALBUM.

Sweet maiden, earth has many a face
Angelic, and they shine
Out upon scenes that take their grace,
But none so fair as thine.
In this book angels rest a while,
That should to Heaven have flown,
But all the enchantments of their smile
Are borrowed from thy own.
And I could see no beauty here,
Nor one bright angel look,
To soothe a world with autumn sere,
Unless it were thy book.

820

FINANCIAL FOOLING.

Alas, poor England haggled o'er by Labouchere,
Who would it were the market's whining slave,
To sell our honour for a whim or shabby share,
And plant potatoes on his country's grave!
To do subtraction sums, disgrace to schooling,
And drag in dirt a lofty Senate down,
While gagging business with financial fooling,
To skimp with greedy hand a Royal gown?

AN AFRICAN STUDY.

It's a cynical fact, but then his is the stain,
That returned was our medal by proud Duke Palmella,
And so now, if it chance decorations to rain,
We can only present him with—Gladstone's umbrella.
But, in hopes that his ill-advised ardour may cool,
Ere he swagger about under ignorant banners,
We once more recommend him to study at school
Geographical facts and some little good manners.

A FOOL.

I met a fool among the masses,
Who cried no work had he;
Said I, “Our Lord made use of asses
And will make use of thee.”

DR. WHEWELL.

Said the omnisapient Whewell,
Though his words were somewhat cruel,
If a lady cries,
And intrudes upon your sleeping—
If you wish to stop her weeping,
“Dam her eyes.”

THE MODERN PHŒNIX.

The Ancient Phœnix, but once, from its ashes,
More beautiful rose up on wondrous wings;
The Modern Phœnix, from a hundred smashes,
Though dead and buried—aye, and damned—upsprings.

University of Virginia Library

EPIGRAMS AND TRIFLES.

SIR W. GROVE.