Miscellaneous writings of the late Dr. Maginn edited by Dr. Shelton Mackenzie |
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 | Miscellaneous writings of the late Dr. Maginn |  |
1
[MEMOIR OF MORGAN ODOHERTY]
8
[If a lover, sweet creature, should foolishly seek]
If a lover, sweet creature, should foolishly seek
On thy face for the bloom of the rose,
Oh tell him, although it has died on thy cheek,
He will find it at least on thy nose.
On thy face for the bloom of the rose,
Oh tell him, although it has died on thy cheek,
He will find it at least on thy nose.
Sweet emblem of virtue! rely upon this,
Should thy bosom be wantonly prest,
That if the rude ravisher gets but a kiss,
He'll be ready to fancy the rest!
Should thy bosom be wantonly prest,
That if the rude ravisher gets but a kiss,
He'll be ready to fancy the rest!
9
[Ah, 'tis a weary night! Alas, will sleep]
Euphemia.Ah, 'tis a weary night! Alas, will sleep
Ne'er darken my poor day-lights! I have watched
The stars all rise and disappear again;
Capricorn, Orion, Venus, and the Bear:
I saw them each and all. And they are gone,
Yet not a wink for me. The blessed Moon
Has journeyed through the sky: I saw her rise
Above the distant hills, and gloriously
Decline beneath the waters. My poor head aches
Beyond endurance. I'll call on Beatrice,
And bid her bring me the all-potent draught
Left by Fernando the apothecary,
At his last visit. Beatrice! She sleeps
As sound as a top. What, ho, Beatrice!
Thou art indeed the laziest waiting maid
That ever cursed a princess. Beatrice!
Beatrice.
Coming, your highness; give me time to throw
My night-gown o'er my shoulders, and to put
My flannel dicky on; 'tis mighty cold
At these hours of the morning.
Euphem.
Beatrice.
Beat.
I'm groping for my slippers; would you have me
Walk barefoot o'er the floors? Lord, I should catch
My death of cold.
Euphem.
And must thy mistress, then, I say, must she
Endure the tortures of the damned, whilst thou
Art groping for thy slippers! Selfish wretch!
Learn, thou shalt come stark-naked at my bidding,
Or else pack up thy duds and hop the twig.
Beat.
Oh, my lady, forgive me that I was so slow
In yielding due obedience. Pray, believe me,
It ne'er shall happen again. Oh, it would break
My very heart to leave so beautiful
And kind a mistress. Oh, forgive me!
Euphem.
Well, well; I fear I was too hasty:
10
Have soured my natural temper. Bring me the phial
Of physic left by that skilful leech Fernando,
With Laudanum on the label. It stands
Upon the dressing-table, close by the rouge
And the Olympian dew. No words. Evaporate.
Beat.
[exit.
I fly!
Euphem.
(sola.)
Alas, Don Carlos, mine own
Dear wedded husband! wedded! yes; wedded
In th' eye of Heaven, though not in that of man,
Which sees the forms of things, but least knows
That which is in the heart. Oh, can it be,
That some dull words, muttered by a parson
In a long drawling tone, can make a wife,
And not the—
Enter Beatrice.
Beat.
Laudanum on the label; right:
Here, my lady, is the physic you require.
Euphem.
Then pour me out one hundred drops and fifty,
With water in the glass, that I may quaff
Oblivion to my misery.
Beat.
'Tis done.
Euphem.
(drinks.)
My head turns round; it mounts into my brain.
I feel as if in paradise! My senses mock me:
Methinks I rest within thine arms, Don Carlos;
Can it be real? Pray, repeat that kiss!
I am thine own Euphemia. This is bliss
Too great for utterance. Oh, ye gods
If Hellespont and Greece! Alas, I faint.
[faints.
11
[Oh, lady, in the laughing hours]
Oh, lady, in the laughing hours,When time and joy go hand in hand;
When pleasure strews thy path with flowers,
And but to wish is to command;
When thousands swear, that to thy lips
A more than angel's voice is given,
And that thy jetty eyes eclipse
The bright, the blessed stars of heaven;
Might it not cast a trembling shade
Across the light of mirth and song,
To think that there is one, sweet maid,
That loved thee hopelessly and long;
That loved, yet never told his flame,
Although it burned his soul to madness;
That lov'd, yet never breathed thy name,
Even in his fondest dreams of gladness.
Though red my coat, yet pale my face,
Alas, 'tis love that made it so,
Thou only canst restore its grace,
And bid its wonted blush to glow.
Restore its blush! oh, I am wrong,
For here thine art were all in vain;
My face has ceased to blush so long,
I fear it ne'er can blush again!
12
[Captain Godolphin was a very odd and stingy man]
Captain Godolphin was a very odd and stingy man,
Whose skipper was, as I'm assur'd, of a schooner-rigg'd West Indiaman;
The wind was fair, he went on board, and when he sail'd from Dover,
Says he, “this trip is but a joke, for now I'm half seas over!”
Whose skipper was, as I'm assur'd, of a schooner-rigg'd West Indiaman;
The wind was fair, he went on board, and when he sail'd from Dover,
Says he, “this trip is but a joke, for now I'm half seas over!”
The captain's wife, she sail'd with him, this circumstance I heard of her,
Her brimstone breath, 'twas almost death to come within a yard of her;
With fiery nose, as red as rose, to tell no lies I'll stoop,
She looked just like an admiral with a lantern at his poop.
Her brimstone breath, 'twas almost death to come within a yard of her;
With fiery nose, as red as rose, to tell no lies I'll stoop,
She looked just like an admiral with a lantern at his poop.
Her spirits sunk from eating junk, and as she was an epicure,
She swore a dish of dolphin fish would of her make a happy cure.
The captain's line, so strong and fine, had hooked a fish one day,
When his anxious wife Godolphin cried, and the dolphin swam away.
She swore a dish of dolphin fish would of her make a happy cure.
The captain's line, so strong and fine, had hooked a fish one day,
When his anxious wife Godolphin cried, and the dolphin swam away.
The wind was foul, the weather hot, between the tropics long she stewed,
The latitude was 5 or 6, 'bout 50 was the longitude,
When Jack the cook once spoilt the sauce, she thought it mighty odd,
But her husband bawl'd on deck, why, here's the Saucy Jack, by God.
The latitude was 5 or 6, 'bout 50 was the longitude,
When Jack the cook once spoilt the sauce, she thought it mighty odd,
But her husband bawl'd on deck, why, here's the Saucy Jack, by God.
The captain sought his charming wife, and whispered to her private ear,
“My love, this night we'll have to fight a thumping Yankee privateer.”
On this he took a glass of rum, by which he showed his sense;
Resolved that he would make at least a spirited defence.
“My love, this night we'll have to fight a thumping Yankee privateer.”
On this he took a glass of rum, by which he showed his sense;
Resolved that he would make at least a spirited defence.
13
The captain of the Saucy Jack, he was a dark and dingy man;
Says he, “my ship must take, this trip, this schooner-rigg'd West Indianman.
Each at his gun, we'll show them fun, the decks are all in order:
But mind that every lodger here, must likewise be a boarder.”
Says he, “my ship must take, this trip, this schooner-rigg'd West Indianman.
Each at his gun, we'll show them fun, the decks are all in order:
But mind that every lodger here, must likewise be a boarder.”
No, never was there warmer work, at least I rather think not,
With cannon, cutlass, grappling-iron, blunderbuss, and stink-pot.
The Yankee captain, boarding her, cried, either strike or drown;
Godolphin answered, “then I strike,” and quickly knocked him down.
With cannon, cutlass, grappling-iron, blunderbuss, and stink-pot.
The Yankee captain, boarding her, cried, either strike or drown;
Godolphin answered, “then I strike,” and quickly knocked him down.
16
[Great king of the ocean, transcendent and grand]
Great king of the ocean, transcendent and grand
Dost thou rest 'mid the waters so blue;
So vast is thy form, I am sure, on dry land,
It would cover an acre or two.
Dost thou rest 'mid the waters so blue;
So vast is thy form, I am sure, on dry land,
It would cover an acre or two.
Thou watery Colossus, how lovely the sight,
When thou sailest majestic and slow,
And the sky and the ocean together unite
Their splendor around thee to throw.
When thou sailest majestic and slow,
17
Their splendor around thee to throw.
Or near to the pole, 'mid the elements' strife,
Where the tempest the seaman appals,
Unmoved, like a Continent pregnant with life,
Or rather a living St. Paul's.
Where the tempest the seaman appals,
Unmoved, like a Continent pregnant with life,
Or rather a living St. Paul's.
Thee soon as the Greenlander fisherman sees,
He plans thy destruction, odd rot him;
And often, before thou hast time to cry pease,
He has whipped his harpoon in thy bottom.
He plans thy destruction, odd rot him;
And often, before thou hast time to cry pease,
He has whipped his harpoon in thy bottom.
19
[“Confusion seize your lowsy sowl, ye nasty dirty varment]
“Confusion seize your lowsy sowl, ye nasty dirty varment,Ye goes your ways, and leaves me here without the least preferment;
When you've drunk my gin, and robbed my till, and stolen all my pelf, ye
Sail away, and think no more on your wife at Philadelphy.”
[Have you sailed on the breast of the deep]
Have you sailed on the breast of the deep,
When the winds had all silenced their breath,
And the waters were hushed in as holy a sleep,
And as calm, as the slumber of death.
When the yellow moon beaming on high,
Shone tranquilly bright on the wave,
And careered through the vast and impalpable sky,
Till she found in the ocean a grave,
And dying away by degrees on the sight,
The waters were clad in the mantle of night.
When the winds had all silenced their breath,
And the waters were hushed in as holy a sleep,
And as calm, as the slumber of death.
When the yellow moon beaming on high,
Shone tranquilly bright on the wave,
And careered through the vast and impalpable sky,
Till she found in the ocean a grave,
And dying away by degrees on the sight,
The waters were clad in the mantle of night.
20
'Twould impart a delight to thy soul,
As I felt it imparted to mine,
And the draught of affliction that blackened my bowl
Grew bright as the silvery brine.
I carelessly lay on the deck,
And listened in silence to catch
The wonderful stories of battle or wreck
That were told by the men of the watch.
Sad stories of demons most deadly that be,
And of mermaids that rose from the depths of the sea.
As I felt it imparted to mine,
And the draught of affliction that blackened my bowl
Grew bright as the silvery brine.
I carelessly lay on the deck,
And listened in silence to catch
The wonderful stories of battle or wreck
That were told by the men of the watch.
Sad stories of demons most deadly that be,
And of mermaids that rose from the depths of the sea.
Strange visions my fancy had filled,
I was wet with the dews of the night;
And I thought that the moon still continued to gild
The wave with a silvery light.
I sunk by degrees into sleep,
I thought of my friends who were far,
When a form seemed to glide o'er the face of the deep,
As bright as the evening star,
Ne'er rose there a spirit more lovely and fair,
Yet I trembled to think that a spirit was there.
I was wet with the dews of the night;
And I thought that the moon still continued to gild
The wave with a silvery light.
I sunk by degrees into sleep,
I thought of my friends who were far,
When a form seemed to glide o'er the face of the deep,
As bright as the evening star,
Ne'er rose there a spirit more lovely and fair,
Yet I trembled to think that a spirit was there.
Emerald green was her hair,
Braided with gems of the sea,
Her arm, like a meteor, she waved in the air,
And I knew that she beckoned on me.
She glanced upon me with her eyes,
How ineffably bright was their blaze;
I shrunk and I trembled with fear and surprise,
Yet still I continued to gaze;
But enchantingly sweet was the smile of her lip,
And I followed the vision and sprang from the ship.
Braided with gems of the sea,
Her arm, like a meteor, she waved in the air,
And I knew that she beckoned on me.
She glanced upon me with her eyes,
How ineffably bright was their blaze;
I shrunk and I trembled with fear and surprise,
Yet still I continued to gaze;
But enchantingly sweet was the smile of her lip,
And I followed the vision and sprang from the ship.
'Mid the waves of the ocean I fell,
The dolphins were sporting around,
And many a triton was tuning the shell,
And extatic and wild was the sound;
There were thousands of fathoms above,
And thousands of fathoms below;
And we sunk to the caves where the sea lions rove,
And the topaz and emerald glow,
Where the diamond and sapphire eternally shed,
Their lustre around on the bones of the dead.
The dolphins were sporting around,
And many a triton was tuning the shell,
And extatic and wild was the sound;
There were thousands of fathoms above,
And thousands of fathoms below;
And we sunk to the caves where the sea lions rove,
And the topaz and emerald glow,
Where the diamond and sapphire eternally shed,
Their lustre around on the bones of the dead.
And well might their lustre be bright,
For they shone on the limbs of the brave,
Of those who had fought in the terrible fight,
And were buried at last in the wave.
In grottoes of coral they slept,
On white beds of pearl around;
And near them for ever the water snake crept,
And the sea lion guarded the ground,
While the dirge of the heroes by spirits was rung,
And solemn and wild were the strains that they sung.
For they shone on the limbs of the brave,
Of those who had fought in the terrible fight,
And were buried at last in the wave.
21
On white beds of pearl around;
And near them for ever the water snake crept,
And the sea lion guarded the ground,
While the dirge of the heroes by spirits was rung,
And solemn and wild were the strains that they sung.
Dirge.
Sweet is the slumber the mariners sleep,
Their bones are laid in the caves of the deep,
Far over their heads the tempests sweep,
That ne'er shall wake them more;
They died when raved the bloody fight,
And loud was the cannon's roar;
Their death was dark, their glory bright,
And they sunk to rise no more,
They sunk to rise no more.
But the loud wind past,
When they breathed their last,
And it carried their dying sigh
In a winding-sheet,
With a shot at their feet,
In coral caves they lie,
In coral caves they lie.
Their bones are laid in the caves of the deep,
Far over their heads the tempests sweep,
That ne'er shall wake them more;
They died when raved the bloody fight,
And loud was the cannon's roar;
Their death was dark, their glory bright,
And they sunk to rise no more,
They sunk to rise no more.
But the loud wind past,
When they breathed their last,
And it carried their dying sigh
In a winding-sheet,
With a shot at their feet,
In coral caves they lie,
In coral caves they lie.
Or where the syren of the rocks
Lovely waves her sea-green locks,
Where the deadly breakers foam,
Found they an eternal home.
Lovely waves her sea-green locks,
Where the deadly breakers foam,
Found they an eternal home.
Horrid and long were the struggles of death,
Black was the night when they yielded their breath,
But not on the ocean, all buoyant and bloated,
The sport of the waters their white bodies floated,
For they were borne to coral caves,
Distant far beneath the waves,
And there on beds of pearl they sleep,
And far over their heads the tempests sweep,
That ne'er shall wake them more,
That ne'er shall wake them more.
Black was the night when they yielded their breath,
But not on the ocean, all buoyant and bloated,
The sport of the waters their white bodies floated,
For they were borne to coral caves,
Distant far beneath the waves,
And there on beds of pearl they sleep,
And far over their heads the tempests sweep,
That ne'er shall wake them more,
That ne'er shall wake them more.
22
[Come, push round the bottle; one glass ere we part]
Come, push round the bottle; one glass ere we part
Must in sadness go round to the friends of my heart,
With whom many a bright hour of joy has gone by,
Whom with pleasure I met, whom I leave with a sigh.
Must in sadness go round to the friends of my heart,
With whom many a bright hour of joy has gone by,
Whom with pleasure I met, whom I leave with a sigh.
Yes, the hours have gone by; like a bright sunny gleam,
In the dark sky of winter, they fled like a dream;
Yet when years shall have cast their dim shadows between,
I shall fondly remember the days that have been.
In the dark sky of winter, they fled like a dream;
Yet when years shall have cast their dim shadows between,
I shall fondly remember the days that have been.
Come, push round the bottle; for ne'er shall the chain
That has bound us together be broken in twain,
And I'll drink, wheresoever my lot may be cast,
To the friends that I love, and the days that are past.
That has bound us together be broken in twain,
And I'll drink, wheresoever my lot may be cast,
To the friends that I love, and the days that are past.
26
[Let Dandies to M'Culloch go]
Let Dandies to M'Culloch go,
And Ministers to Fortune's hall;
For Indians Oman's claret flow,
In John M'Phails let lawyers crow,
These places seem to me so so,
I love Bill Young's above them all.
And Ministers to Fortune's hall;
For Indians Oman's claret flow,
In John M'Phails let lawyers crow,
27
I love Bill Young's above them all.
One only rival, honest Bill,
Hast thou in Morgan's whim;
I mean Ben Waters, charming Ben,
Simplest and stupidest of men;
I take a tankard now and then,
And smoke a pipe with him.
Hast thou in Morgan's whim;
I mean Ben Waters, charming Ben,
Simplest and stupidest of men;
I take a tankard now and then,
And smoke a pipe with him.
Dear Ben! dear Bill! I love you both,
Between you oft my fancy wavers;
Thou, Bill, excell'st in sheepshead broth;
Thy porter-mugs are crowned with froth;
At Young's I listen, nothing loth,
To my dear Dilettanti shavers.
O scene of merriment and havers,
Of good rum-punch, and puns, and clavers,
And warbling sweet Elysian quavers!—
Who loves not Young's must be a Goth.
Between you oft my fancy wavers;
Thou, Bill, excell'st in sheepshead broth;
Thy porter-mugs are crowned with froth;
At Young's I listen, nothing loth,
To my dear Dilettanti shavers.
O scene of merriment and havers,
Of good rum-punch, and puns, and clavers,
And warbling sweet Elysian quavers!—
Who loves not Young's must be a Goth.
31
[While worldly men through stupid years]
While worldly men through stupid years
Without emotion jog,
Devoid of passions, hopes, and fears,
As senseless as a log—
I much prefer my nights to spend,
A happy ranting dog,
And see dull care his front unbend
Before the smile of Hogg.
Without emotion jog,
Devoid of passions, hopes, and fears,
As senseless as a log—
32
A happy ranting dog,
And see dull care his front unbend
Before the smile of Hogg.
The life of man's a season drear,
Immersed in mist and fog,
Until the star of wit appear,
And set its clouds agog.
For me, I wish no brighter sky
Than o'er a jug of grog,
When fancy kindles in the eye,
The good gray eye of Hogg.
Immersed in mist and fog,
Until the star of wit appear,
And set its clouds agog.
For me, I wish no brighter sky
Than o'er a jug of grog,
When fancy kindles in the eye,
The good gray eye of Hogg.
When Misery's car is at its speed,
The glowing wheels to cog;
To make the heart where sorrows bleed
Leap lightly like a frog;
Gay verdure o'er the crag to shower,
And blossoms o'er the bog,
Wit's potent magic has the power,
When thou dost wield it, Hogg!
The glowing wheels to cog;
To make the heart where sorrows bleed
Leap lightly like a frog;
Gay verdure o'er the crag to shower,
And blossoms o'er the bog,
Wit's potent magic has the power,
When thou dost wield it, Hogg!
[O hone, Odoherty!]
O hone, Odoherty!
I canna weel tell what is wrang;
But oh, man, since you gaed frae me,
The days are unco dull and lang.
I try the paper and the sclate,
And pen, and cawk, and killivine;
But nothing can I write of late,
That even Girzzy ca's divine.
O hone, Odoherty!
O hone, Odoherty!
Oh weary fa' the fates' decree,
That garred the Captain part frae me.
I canna weel tell what is wrang;
But oh, man, since you gaed frae me,
The days are unco dull and lang.
33
And pen, and cawk, and killivine;
But nothing can I write of late,
That even Girzzy ca's divine.
O hone, Odoherty!
O hone, Odoherty!
Oh weary fa' the fates' decree,
That garred the Captain part frae me.
O hone, Odoherty!
Come back, come back to Ettrick lake,
And ye sall hear, and ye sall see,
What I'se do for the Captain's sake.
I'll coff tobacco o' the best,
And pipes baith lang and short I'se gie;
And the toddy-stoup sall ne'er get rest,
Frae morn till night, 'tween you and me.
O hone, Odoherty!
O hone, Odoherty!
O welcome sall the moment be
That brings the Captain back to me.
Come back, come back to Ettrick lake,
And ye sall hear, and ye sall see,
What I'se do for the Captain's sake.
I'll coff tobacco o' the best,
And pipes baith lang and short I'se gie;
And the toddy-stoup sall ne'er get rest,
Frae morn till night, 'tween you and me.
O hone, Odoherty!
O hone, Odoherty!
O welcome sall the moment be
That brings the Captain back to me.
[When wondering ages shall have rolled away]
When wondering ages shall have rolled away,And that be ancient which is new to-day;
When time has pour'd his warm and softening glow
O'er that pale virgin's throbbing breast of snow,
And lent the settled majesty of years
To those grim Spahis, and those proud viziers;
From distant lands the ardent youth shall come
To gaze with admiration—breathless—dumb—
To fix his eyes, like orbs of marble, there!
And let his soul luxuriate in despair.
34
What Raphael is, my Allan then shall be.
35
ELEGY WRITTEN IN A BALL-ROOM.
The beaux are jogging on the pictured floor,
The belles responsive trip with lightsome heels;
While I, deserted, the cold pangs deplore,
Or breathe the wrath which slighted beauty feels.
The belles responsive trip with lightsome heels;
While I, deserted, the cold pangs deplore,
Or breathe the wrath which slighted beauty feels.
When first I entered glad, with glad mamma,
The girls were ranged and clustered round us then;
Few beaux were there, those few with scorn I saw,
Unknowing Dandies that could come at ten.
The girls were ranged and clustered round us then;
Few beaux were there, those few with scorn I saw,
Unknowing Dandies that could come at ten.
My buoyant heart beat high with promised pleasure,
My dancing garland moved with airy grace;
Quick beat my active toe to Gow's gay measure,
And undissembled triumph wreathed my face.
My dancing garland moved with airy grace;
Quick beat my active toe to Gow's gay measure,
And undissembled triumph wreathed my face.
36
Fancy prospective took a proud survey
Of all the coming glories of the night;
Even where I stood my legs began to play—
So racers paw the turf e'er jockeys smite.
Of all the coming glories of the night;
Even where I stood my legs began to play—
So racers paw the turf e'er jockeys smite.
And “who shall be my partner first?” I said,
As my thoughts glided o'er the coming beaux;
“Not Tom, nor Ned, nor Jack,”—I tossed my head,
Nice grew my taste, and high my scorn arose.
As my thoughts glided o'er the coming beaux;
“Not Tom, nor Ned, nor Jack,”—I tossed my head,
Nice grew my taste, and high my scorn arose.
“If Dicky asks me, I shall spit and sprain;
When Sam approaches, headaches I will mention;
I'll freeze the colonel's heart with cold disdain;”
Thus cruelly ran on my glib invention.
When Sam approaches, headaches I will mention;
I'll freeze the colonel's heart with cold disdain;”
Thus cruelly ran on my glib invention.
While yet my fancy revelled in her dreams,
The sets are forming, and the fiddles scraping;
Gow's wakening chord a stirring prelude screams,
The beaux are quizzing, and the misses gaping.
The sets are forming, and the fiddles scraping;
Gow's wakening chord a stirring prelude screams,
The beaux are quizzing, and the misses gaping.
Beau after beau approaches, bows, and smiles,
Quick to the dangler's arm springs glad ma'amselle;
Pair after pair augments the sparkling files,
And full upon my ear “the triumph” swells.
Quick to the dangler's arm springs glad ma'amselle;
Pair after pair augments the sparkling files,
And full upon my ear “the triumph” swells.
I flirt my fan in time with the mad fiddle,
My eye pursues the dancers' motions flying;
Cross hands! Balancez! down and up the middle!
To join the revel how my heart is dying.
My eye pursues the dancers' motions flying;
Cross hands! Balancez! down and up the middle!
To join the revel how my heart is dying.
One miss sits down all glowing from the dance,
Another rises, and another yet;
Beaux upon belles, and belles on beaux advance,
The tune unending, ever full the set.
Another rises, and another yet;
Beaux upon belles, and belles on beaux advance,
The tune unending, ever full the set.
At last a pause there comes—to Gow's keen hand
The hurrying lackey hands the enlivening port;
The misses sip the ices where they stand,
And gather vigor to renew the sport.
The hurrying lackey hands the enlivening port;
The misses sip the ices where they stand,
And gather vigor to renew the sport.
I round the room dispense a wistful glance,
Wish Ned, or Dick, or Tom, would crave the honor;
I hear Sam whisper to Miss B., “Do—dance,”
And launch a withering scowl of envy on her.
Wish Ned, or Dick, or Tom, would crave the honor;
I hear Sam whisper to Miss B., “Do—dance,”
And launch a withering scowl of envy on her.
Sir Billy capers up to Lady Di;
In vain I cough as gay Sir Billy passes;
The Major asks my sister—faint I sigh,
“Well after this—the men are grown such asses!”
In vain I cough as gay Sir Billy passes;
The Major asks my sister—faint I sigh,
“Well after this—the men are grown such asses!”
In vain! in vain! again the dancers mingle,
With lazy eye I watch the busy scene,
Far on the pillowed sofa sad and single,
Languid the attitude—but sharp the spleen.
With lazy eye I watch the busy scene,
37
Languid the attitude—but sharp the spleen.
“La! ma'am, how hot!”—“You're quite fatigued, I see;”
“What a long dance!”—“And so you're come to town!”
Such casual whispers are addressed to me,
But not one hint to lead the next set down.
“What a long dance!”—“And so you're come to town!”
Such casual whispers are addressed to me,
But not one hint to lead the next set down.
The third, the fourth, the fifth, the sixth, are gone,
And now the seventh—and yet I'm asked not once
When supper comes must I descend alone?
Does Fate deny me my last prayer—a dunce?
And now the seventh—and yet I'm asked not once
When supper comes must I descend alone?
Does Fate deny me my last prayer—a dunce?
Mamma supports me to the room for munching,
There turkey's breast she crams, and wing of pullet;
I slobbering jelly, and hard nuts am crunching,
And pouring tuns of trifle down my gullet.
There turkey's breast she crams, and wing of pullet;
I slobbering jelly, and hard nuts am crunching,
And pouring tuns of trifle down my gullet.
No beau invites me to a glass of sherry;
Above me stops the salver of champaign;
While all the rest are tossing brimmers merry,
I with cold water comfort my disdain.
Above me stops the salver of champaign;
While all the rest are tossing brimmers merry,
I with cold water comfort my disdain.
Ye bucks of Edinburgh! ye tasteless creatures!
Ye vapid Dandies! how I scorn you all!—
Green slender slips, with pale cheese-pairing features,
And awkward, lumb'ring, red-faced boobies tall.
Ye vapid Dandies! how I scorn you all!—
Green slender slips, with pale cheese-pairing features,
And awkward, lumb'ring, red-faced boobies tall.
Strange compounds of the beau and the attorney!
Raw lairds! and school-boys for a whisker shaving!
May injured beauty's glance of fury burn ye!
I hate you—clowns and fools!—but hah!—I'm raving!
Raw lairds! and school-boys for a whisker shaving!
May injured beauty's glance of fury burn ye!
I hate you—clowns and fools!—but hah!—I'm raving!
[There was a time when every sort of people]
There was a time when every sort of people
Created, relished, and commended jokes;
But now a joker's stared at, like a steeple,
By the majority of Christian folks.
Dulness has tanned her hide to thickness triple,
And Observation sets one in the stocks,
When you've been known a comic song to sing,
Write notices, or any harmless thing.
Created, relished, and commended jokes;
But now a joker's stared at, like a steeple,
By the majority of Christian folks.
Dulness has tanned her hide to thickness triple,
And Observation sets one in the stocks,
When you've been known a comic song to sing,
Write notices, or any harmless thing.
38
This Edinburgh, Edina, or Dunedin—
('Cleped, in the Bailie's lingo, “the Good Town;”
But styled “Auld Reekie” by all Celts now treading
Her streets, bows, winds, lanes, crescents, up and down,
Her labyrinths of stairs and closes threading
On other people's business or their own—
Those bandy, broad-faced, rough-kneed, ragged laddies—
Those horney-fisted, those gill-swigging caddies.)
('Cleped, in the Bailie's lingo, “the Good Town;”
But styled “Auld Reekie” by all Celts now treading
Her streets, bows, winds, lanes, crescents, up and down,
Her labyrinths of stairs and closes threading
On other people's business or their own—
Those bandy, broad-faced, rough-kneed, ragged laddies—
Those horney-fisted, those gill-swigging caddies.)
This Edinburgh some call Metropolis,
And Capital, and Athens of the North—
I know not what they mean.—I'm sure of this,—
Tho' she abounds in men of sense and worth,
Her staple and predominant qualities
Are ignorance, and nonsense, and so forth;
I don't like making use of a hard word,
But 'tis the merest hum I ever heard.
And Capital, and Athens of the North—
I know not what they mean.—I'm sure of this,—
Tho' she abounds in men of sense and worth,
Her staple and predominant qualities
Are ignorance, and nonsense, and so forth;
I don't like making use of a hard word,
But 'tis the merest hum I ever heard.
There's our Mackenzie; all with veneration
See him that Harley felt and Caustic drew:
There's Scott, the pride and darling of his nation,
Poet and cavalier, kind, generous, true.
There's Jeffrey, who has been the botheration
Of the whole world with his glib sharp Review,
And made most young Scots lawyers mad with whiggery—
There's Leslie, Stewart, Alison, and Gregory.
See him that Harley felt and Caustic drew:
There's Scott, the pride and darling of his nation,
Poet and cavalier, kind, generous, true.
There's Jeffrey, who has been the botheration
Of the whole world with his glib sharp Review,
And made most young Scots lawyers mad with whiggery—
There's Leslie, Stewart, Alison, and Gregory.
39
But these and some few others being named,
I don't remember one more great gun in her;
The remanent population can't be blamed,
Because their chief concern in life's their dinner.
To give examples I should be ashamed,
And people would cry, “Lord! that wicked sinner!”
(For all we gentry here are quite egg-shells,
We can't endure jokes that comes near “oor-sells.”)
I don't remember one more great gun in her;
The remanent population can't be blamed,
Because their chief concern in life's their dinner.
To give examples I should be ashamed,
And people would cry, “Lord! that wicked sinner!”
(For all we gentry here are quite egg-shells,
We can't endure jokes that comes near “oor-sells.”)
They say that knowledge is diffused and general,
And taste and understanding are so common,
I'd rather see a sweep-boy suck a penny roll
Than listen to a criticising woman.
And as for poetry, the time of dinner all,
Thank God, I then have better things to do, man.—
Exceptions 'gainst the fair were coarse and shocking—
I've seen in breeches many a true blue stocking.
And taste and understanding are so common,
I'd rather see a sweep-boy suck a penny roll
Than listen to a criticising woman.
40
Thank God, I then have better things to do, man.—
Exceptions 'gainst the fair were coarse and shocking—
I've seen in breeches many a true blue stocking.
Blue stocking stands, in my vocabulary,
For one that always chatters (sex is nothing)
About new books from June to January,
And with re-echoed carpings moves your loathing
I like to see young people smart and airy,
With well dressed hair and fashionable clothing,
Can't they discourse about ball, rout, or play,
And know reviewing's quite out of their way?
For one that always chatters (sex is nothing)
About new books from June to January,
And with re-echoed carpings moves your loathing
I like to see young people smart and airy,
With well dressed hair and fashionable clothing,
Can't they discourse about ball, rout, or play,
And know reviewing's quite out of their way?
It strikes me as a thing exceeding stupid,
This conversation about books, books, books,
When I was young, and sat midst damsels grouped,
I talked of roses, zephyrs, gurgling brooks,
Venus, the Graces, Dian, Hymen, Cupid,
Perilous glances, soul ubduing looks,
Slim tapering fingers, glossy clustering curls,
Diamonds and emeralds, cairngorms and pearls.
This conversation about books, books, books,
When I was young, and sat midst damsels grouped,
I talked of roses, zephyrs, gurgling brooks,
Venus, the Graces, Dian, Hymen, Cupid,
Perilous glances, soul ubduing looks,
Slim tapering fingers, glossy clustering curls,
Diamonds and emeralds, cairngorms and pearls.
On Una that made sunshine in the shade,
And Emily with eye of liquid jet,
And gentle Desdemona, and the maid
That sleeps within the tomb of Capulet
Hearts love to ponder—would it not degrade
Our notion of a nymph like Juliet,
To be informed that she had just read thro'
Last Number of the Edinburgh Review?
And Emily with eye of liquid jet,
And gentle Desdemona, and the maid
That sleeps within the tomb of Capulet
Hearts love to ponder—would it not degrade
Our notion of a nymph like Juliet,
To be informed that she had just read thro'
Last Number of the Edinburgh Review?
Leave ye to dominies and sticker stibblers,
And all the sedentary generation,
The endless chitter-chatter about scribblers,
And England's melancholy situation.
Let them be still the customary nibblers
Of all that rule or edify the nation;
Leave off the corn-bill, and the law of libel,
And read the Pilgrim's Progress or your Bible.
And all the sedentary generation,
The endless chitter-chatter about scribblers,
And England's melancholy situation.
Let them be still the customary nibblers
Of all that rule or edify the nation;
Leave off the corn-bill, and the law of libel,
And read the Pilgrim's Progress or your Bible.
[I rose this morning about half past nine]
I rose this morning about half past nine,
At breakfast coffee I consumed pour quatre,
Unnumbered rolls enriched with marmalade fine,
And little balls of butter dished in water,
Three eggs, two plateful of superb cold chine
(Much recommended to make thin folks fatter);
And having thus my ballast stow'd on board,
Roamed forth to kill a day's time like a lord.
At breakfast coffee I consumed pour quatre,
Unnumbered rolls enriched with marmalade fine,
And little balls of butter dished in water,
41
(Much recommended to make thin folks fatter);
And having thus my ballast stow'd on board,
Roamed forth to kill a day's time like a lord.
How I contrived to pass the whole forenoon,
I can't remember though my life were on it;
I helped G. T. in jotting of a tune,
And hinted rhymes to G---s for a sonnet;
Called at the Knox's shop with Miss Balloon
And heard her ipsa dixit on a bonnet;
Then washed my mouth with ices, tarts, and flummeries,
And ginger-beer and soda, at Montgomery's.
I can't remember though my life were on it;
I helped G. T. in jotting of a tune,
And hinted rhymes to G---s for a sonnet;
42
And heard her ipsa dixit on a bonnet;
Then washed my mouth with ices, tarts, and flummeries,
And ginger-beer and soda, at Montgomery's.
Down Prince's Street I once or twice paraded,
And gazed upon these same eternal faces;
Those beardless beaux and bearded belles, those faded
And flashy silks, surtouts, pelisses, laces,
Those crowds of clerks, astride on hackneys jaded,
Prancing and capering with notorial grace;
Dreaming enthusiasts who indulge vain whimsies,
That they might pass in Bond Street or St. James's.
And gazed upon these same eternal faces;
Those beardless beaux and bearded belles, those faded
And flashy silks, surtouts, pelisses, laces,
Those crowds of clerks, astride on hackneys jaded,
Prancing and capering with notorial grace;
Dreaming enthusiasts who indulge vain whimsies,
That they might pass in Bond Street or St. James's.
I saw equestrian and pedestrian vanish
—One to a herring in his lonely shop.
And some of kind gregarious, and more clanish,
To club at Waters' for a mutton-chop;
Myself resolved for once my cares to banish,
And give the Cerberus of thought a sop,
Got Jack's, and Sam's, and Dick's, and Tom's consent,
And o'er the Mound to Billy Young's we went.
—One to a herring in his lonely shop.
And some of kind gregarious, and more clanish,
To club at Waters' for a mutton-chop;
Myself resolved for once my cares to banish,
And give the Cerberus of thought a sop,
Got Jack's, and Sam's, and Dick's, and Tom's consent,
And o'er the Mound to Billy Young's we went.
I am not nice, I care not what I dine on,
A sheep's head or beef-steak is all I wish;
Old Homer! how he loved the ερυθρον οινον
It is the glass that glorifies the dish.
The thing that I have always set my mind on
(A small foundation laid of fowl, flesh, fish)
Is out of bottle, pitcher, or punch-bowl,
To suck reviving solace to my soul.
A sheep's head or beef-steak is all I wish;
Old Homer! how he loved the ερυθρον οινον
It is the glass that glorifies the dish.
The thing that I have always set my mind on
(A small foundation laid of fowl, flesh, fish)
Is out of bottle, pitcher, or punch-bowl,
To suck reviving solace to my soul.
43
Life's a dull dusty desert, waste and drear,
With now and then an oasis between,
Where palm-trees rise, and fountains gushing clear
Burst neath the shelter of that leafy screen;
Haste not your parting steps, when such appear,
Repose, ye weary travellers, on the green.
Horace and Milton, Dante, Burns, and Schiller,
Dined at a tavern—when they had “the siller.”
With now and then an oasis between,
Where palm-trees rise, and fountains gushing clear
Burst neath the shelter of that leafy screen;
Haste not your parting steps, when such appear,
Repose, ye weary travellers, on the green.
Horace and Milton, Dante, Burns, and Schiller,
Dined at a tavern—when they had “the siller.”
And ne'er did poet, epical or tragical,
At Florence, London, Weimar, Rome, Maybole,
See time's dark lanthern glow with hues more magical
Than I have witnessed in the Coffin-hole.
Praise of antiquity a bam and fudge I call,
Ne'er past the present let my wishes roll;
A fig for all comparing, croaking grumblers,
Hear me, dear dimpling Billy, bring the tumblers.
At Florence, London, Weimar, Rome, Maybole,
See time's dark lanthern glow with hues more magical
Than I have witnessed in the Coffin-hole.
Praise of antiquity a bam and fudge I call,
Ne'er past the present let my wishes roll;
A fig for all comparing, croaking grumblers,
Hear me, dear dimpling Billy, bring the tumblers.
Let blank verse hero, or Spenserian rhymer,
Treat Donna Musa with chateau-margout,
Chateau-la-fitte, Johannisberg, Hocheimer,
In tall outlandish glasses green and blue,
Thanks to my stars, myself, a doggrel-chimer,
Have nothing with such costly tastes to do;
My muse is always kindest when I court her
O'er whiskey-punch, gin-twist, strong beer, and porter.
Treat Donna Musa with chateau-margout,
Chateau-la-fitte, Johannisberg, Hocheimer,
In tall outlandish glasses green and blue,
Thanks to my stars, myself, a doggrel-chimer,
Have nothing with such costly tastes to do;
My muse is always kindest when I court her
O'er whiskey-punch, gin-twist, strong beer, and porter.
And O, my pipe, though in these Dandy days
Few love thee, fewer still their love confess,
Ne'er let me blush to celebrate thy praise,
Divine invention of the age of Bess!
I for a moment interrupt my lays
The tiny tube with loving lip to press,
I'll then come back with a reviving zest,
And give thee three more stanzas of my best.
Few love thee, fewer still their love confess,
Ne'er let me blush to celebrate thy praise,
Divine invention of the age of Bess!
I for a moment interrupt my lays
The tiny tube with loving lip to press,
I'll then come back with a reviving zest,
And give thee three more stanzas of my best.
(I smoke.)
Pipe! whether plain in fashion of Frey-herr,
Or gaudy glittering in the taste of Boor,
Deep-darkened Meer-shaum or Ecume-de-mer,
Or snowy clay of Gowda, light and pure.
Let different people different pipes prefer,
Delft, horn, or catgut, long, short, older, newer,
Puff, every brother, as it likes him best,
De gustibus non disputandum est.
Or gaudy glittering in the taste of Boor,
Deep-darkened Meer-shaum or Ecume-de-mer,
Or snowy clay of Gowda, light and pure.
Let different people different pipes prefer,
Delft, horn, or catgut, long, short, older, newer,
Puff, every brother, as it likes him best,
De gustibus non disputandum est.
44
Pipe! when I stuff into thee my canaster,
With flower of camomile and leaf of rose,
And the calm rising fume comes fast and faster,
Curling with balmy circles near my nose,
And all the while my dexter hand is master
Of the full cup from Meux's vat that flows,
Heavens! all my brain a soft oblivion wraps
Of wafered letters and of single taps.
With flower of camomile and leaf of rose,
And the calm rising fume comes fast and faster,
Curling with balmy circles near my nose,
And all the while my dexter hand is master
Of the full cup from Meux's vat that flows,
Heavens! all my brain a soft oblivion wraps
Of wafered letters and of single taps.
I've no objections to a good segar,
A true Havana, smooth, and moist, and brown;
But then the smoke's too near the eye by far,
And out of doors 'tis in a twinkling flown;
And somehow it sets all my teeth ajar,
When to an inch or so we've smoked him down;
And if your leaf have got a straw within it,
You know 'tis like a cinder in a minute.
A true Havana, smooth, and moist, and brown;
45
And out of doors 'tis in a twinkling flown;
And somehow it sets all my teeth ajar,
When to an inch or so we've smoked him down;
And if your leaf have got a straw within it,
You know 'tis like a cinder in a minute.
46
I have no doubt a long excursive hooker
Suits well some lordly lounger of Bengal,
Who never writes, or looks into a book, or
Does any thing with earnestness at all;
He sits, and his tobacco's in the nook, or
Tended by some black heathen in the hall,
Lays up his legs, and thinks he does great things
If once in the half hour a puff he brings.
Suits well some lordly lounger of Bengal,
Who never writes, or looks into a book, or
Does any thing with earnestness at all;
He sits, and his tobacco's in the nook, or
Tended by some black heathen in the hall,
Lays up his legs, and thinks he does great things
If once in the half hour a puff he brings.
I rather follow in my smoking trim
The example of Scots cottars and their wives
Who, while the evening air is warm and dim,
In July sit beside their garden hives;
And, gazing all the while with wrinkles grim
To see how the concern of honey thrives,
Empty before they've done a four-ounce bag
Of sailors' twist, or, what's less common—shag.
The example of Scots cottars and their wives
Who, while the evening air is warm and dim,
In July sit beside their garden hives;
And, gazing all the while with wrinkles grim
To see how the concern of honey thrives,
Empty before they've done a four-ounce bag
Of sailors' twist, or, what's less common—shag.
50
SONG I.
Confusion to routs and at homes,
To assemblies, and balls, and what not;
'Tis with pain e'er Odoherty roams
From the scenes of the pipe and the pot.
Your Dandies may call him a sot,
They never can call him a spoon;
And Odoherty cares not a jot,
For he's sure you won't join in the tune.
With your pipes and your swipes,
And your herrings and tripes,
You never can join in the tune.
To assemblies, and balls, and what not;
'Tis with pain e'er Odoherty roams
From the scenes of the pipe and the pot.
Your Dandies may call him a sot,
They never can call him a spoon;
51
For he's sure you won't join in the tune.
With your pipes and your swipes,
And your herrings and tripes,
You never can join in the tune.
I'm a swapper, as every one knows,
In my pumps six feet three inches high;
'Tis no wonder your minikin beaux
Have a fancy to fight rather shy
Of a Gulliver chap such as I,
That could stride over troops of their tribes,
That had never occasion to buy
Either collars, or calves, or kibes.
My boot wrenches and pinches,
Though 'tis wide twenty inches,
And I don't bear my brass at my kibes.
In my pumps six feet three inches high;
'Tis no wonder your minikin beaux
Have a fancy to fight rather shy
Of a Gulliver chap such as I,
That could stride over troops of their tribes,
That had never occasion to buy
Either collars, or calves, or kibes.
My boot wrenches and pinches,
Though 'tis wide twenty inches,
And I don't bear my brass at my kibes.
When I see a fantastical hopper,
A trim little chip of the ton,
Not so thick as your Highness' pipe-stopper,
And scarcely, I take it, so long,
Swaddled prim and precise as a prong,
With his ribs running all down and up,
Says I, Does the creature belong
To the race of the ewe or the tup?
With their patches and their scratches,
And their plastered mustaches,
They are more of the ewe than the tup.
A trim little chip of the ton,
Not so thick as your Highness' pipe-stopper,
And scarcely, I take it, so long,
Swaddled prim and precise as a prong,
With his ribs running all down and up,
Says I, Does the creature belong
To the race of the ewe or the tup?
With their patches and their scratches,
And their plastered mustaches,
They are more of the ewe than the tup.
SONG II.
That nothing is perfect has frequently been
By the wisest philosophers stated untruly;
Which only can prove that they never had seen
The agreeable Lady Lucretia Gilhooly.
Where's the philosopher would not feel loss of her?
Whose bosom these bright sunny eyes would not thaw?
Although I'm a game one, these little highwaymen
Have rifled the heart of poor Major M'Craw.
By the wisest philosophers stated untruly;
Which only can prove that they never had seen
The agreeable Lady Lucretia Gilhooly.
Where's the philosopher would not feel loss of her?
Whose bosom these bright sunny eyes would not thaw?
Although I'm a game one, these little highwaymen
Have rifled the heart of poor Major M'Craw.
Cook sail'd round the world, and Commodore Anson
The wonders he met with has noted down duly;
But Cook, nor yet Anson, could e'er light by chance on
A beauty like Lady Lucretia Gilhooly.
Let astronomer asses still peep through their glasses,
Then tell all the stars and the planets they saw;
Damn Georgium Sidus! We've Venus beside us,
And that is sufficient for Major M'Craw.
The wonders he met with has noted down duly;
But Cook, nor yet Anson, could e'er light by chance on
A beauty like Lady Lucretia Gilhooly.
Let astronomer asses still peep through their glasses,
Then tell all the stars and the planets they saw;
Damn Georgium Sidus! We've Venus beside us,
And that is sufficient for Major M'Craw.
57
THE ENGLISH SAILOR AND THE KING OF ACHEN'S DAUGHTER.
A Tale of Terror.
Come, listen Gentles all,
And Ladies unto me,
And you shall be told of a Sailor bold
As ever sail'd on Sea.
And Ladies unto me,
And you shall be told of a Sailor bold
As ever sail'd on Sea.
'Twas in the month of May,
Sixteen hundred sixty and four,
We sallied out, both fresh and stout,
In the good ship Swift-sure.
Sixteen hundred sixty and four,
We sallied out, both fresh and stout,
In the good ship Swift-sure.
With wind and weather fair
We sail'd from Plymouth Sound,
And the Line we crossed, and the Cape we pass'd,
Being to China bound.
We sail'd from Plymouth Sound,
And the Line we crossed, and the Cape we pass'd,
Being to China bound.
And we sail'd by Sunda Isles,
And Ternate and Tydore,
Till the wind it lagg'd, and our sails they flagg'd,
In sight of Achen's shore.
And Ternate and Tydore,
Till the wind it lagg'd, and our sails they flagg'd,
In sight of Achen's shore.
Becalm'd, days three times three,
We lay in th' burning sun;
Our Water we drank, and our Meat it stank,
And our Biscuits were well nigh done.
We lay in th' burning sun;
Our Water we drank, and our Meat it stank,
And our Biscuits were well nigh done.
Oh! then 'twas an awful sight
Our Seamen for to behold,
Who t'other day were so fresh and gay,
And their hearts as stout as gold.
Our Seamen for to behold,
Who t'other day were so fresh and gay,
And their hearts as stout as gold.
But now our hands they shook,
And our cheeks were yellow and lean—
Our faces all long, and our nerves unstrung,
And loose and squalid our skin.
And our cheeks were yellow and lean—
Our faces all long, and our nerves unstrung,
And loose and squalid our skin.
And we walk'd up and down the deck
As long as our legs could bear us;
And we thirsted all, but no rain would fall,
And no dews arise to cheer us.
As long as our legs could bear us;
58
And no dews arise to cheer us.
But the red red Sun from the sky
Lent his scorching beams all day,
Till our tongues, through drought, hung out of our mouth,
And we had no voice to pray.
Lent his scorching beams all day,
Till our tongues, through drought, hung out of our mouth,
And we had no voice to pray.
And the hot hot air from the South
Did lie on our lungs all night
As if the grim Devil, with his mouth full of evil,
Had blown on our troubled Sprite.
Did lie on our lungs all night
As if the grim Devil, with his mouth full of evil,
Had blown on our troubled Sprite.
At last, so it happ'd one night,
When we all in our hammocks lay,
Bereft of breath, and expecting death
To come ere break of day.
When we all in our hammocks lay,
Bereft of breath, and expecting death
To come ere break of day.
On a sudden a cooling breeze
Shook the hammock where I was lain;
And then, by Heaven's grace, I felt on my face
A drop of blessed rain.
Shook the hammock where I was lain;
And then, by Heaven's grace, I felt on my face
A drop of blessed rain.
I open'd my half-closed eyes,
And my mouth I open'd it wide
And I started with joy, from my hammock so high,
And “A breeze, a breeze!” I cried.
And my mouth I open'd it wide
And I started with joy, from my hammock so high,
And “A breeze, a breeze!” I cried.
But no man heard me cry,
And the breeze again fell down;
And a clap of Thunder, with fear and wonder
Nigh cast me in a swound.
And the breeze again fell down;
And a clap of Thunder, with fear and wonder
Nigh cast me in a swound.
I dared not look around,
Till, by degrees grown bolder,
I saw a grim sprite, by the moon's pale light,
Dim glimmering at my shoulder.
Till, by degrees grown bolder,
I saw a grim sprite, by the moon's pale light,
Dim glimmering at my shoulder.
He was drest in a Seamen's jacket,
Wet trowsers, and dripping hose,
And an unfelt wind, I heard behind,
That whistled among his clothes.
Wet trowsers, and dripping hose,
And an unfelt wind, I heard behind,
That whistled among his clothes.
I look'd at him by the light of the stars,
I look'd by the light of the moon,
And I saw, though his face was cover'd with scars,
John Jewkes, my Sister's Son.
I look'd by the light of the moon,
And I saw, though his face was cover'd with scars,
John Jewkes, my Sister's Son.
“Alas! John Jewkes,” I cried,
“Poor boy, what brings thee here?”
But nothing he said, but hung down his head,
And made his bare scull appear.
“Poor boy, what brings thee here?”
But nothing he said, but hung down his head,
And made his bare scull appear.
59
Then I, by my grief grown bold,
To take his hand endeavor'd,
But his head he turned round, which a gaping wound
Had nigh from his shoulders sever'd.
To take his hand endeavor'd,
But his head he turned round, which a gaping wound
Had nigh from his shoulders sever'd.
He opened his mouth to speak,
Like a man with his last breath struggling,
And, before every word, in his throat was heard
A horrible misguggling.
Like a man with his last breath struggling,
And, before every word, in his throat was heard
A horrible misguggling.
At last, with a broken groan,
He gurgled, “Approach not me!
For the Fish have my head, and the Indians my blood,
'Tis only my Ghost you see.
He gurgled, “Approach not me!
For the Fish have my head, and the Indians my blood,
'Tis only my Ghost you see.
“And dost thou not remember,
Three years ago to-day,
How at Aunt's we tarried, when Sister was married
To Farmer Robin, pray?
Three years ago to-day,
How at Aunt's we tarried, when Sister was married
To Farmer Robin, pray?
“Oh! then we were blythe and jolly,
But none of us all had seen,
While we sung and we laugh'd, and the stout ale quaff'd,
That our number was thirteen.
But none of us all had seen,
While we sung and we laugh'd, and the stout ale quaff'd,
That our number was thirteen.
“And none of all the party,
At the head of the table, saw,
While our cares we drown'd, and the flagon went round,
Old Goody Martha Daw.
At the head of the table, saw,
While our cares we drown'd, and the flagon went round,
Old Goody Martha Daw.
“But Martha she was there,
Though she never spake a word;
And by her sat her old black cat,
Though it never cried or purr'd.
Though she never spake a word;
And by her sat her old black cat,
Though it never cried or purr'd.
“And she lean'd on her oaken crutch,
And a bundle of sticks she broke,
And her prayers backward mutter'd, and the Devil's words utter'd.
Though she never a word out spoke.
And a bundle of sticks she broke,
And her prayers backward mutter'd, and the Devil's words utter'd.
Though she never a word out spoke.
“'Twas on a Thursday morn,
That very day was se'nnight,
I ran to sweet Sue, to bid her adieu,
For I could not stay a minute.
That very day was se'nnight,
I ran to sweet Sue, to bid her adieu,
For I could not stay a minute.
“Then crying with words so tender,
She gave me a true lover's locket,
That I still might love her, forgetting her never—
So I put it in my pocket.
She gave me a true lover's locket,
That I still might love her, forgetting her never—
So I put it in my pocket.
“And then we kiss'd and parted,
And knew not, all the while,
That Martha was nigh, on her broomstick so high,
Looking down with a devilish smile.
And knew not, all the while,
60
Looking down with a devilish smile.
“So I went to sea again,
With my heart brim-full of Sue;
Though my mind misgave me, the salt waters would have me,
And I'd take my last adieu.
With my heart brim-full of Sue;
Though my mind misgave me, the salt waters would have me,
And I'd take my last adieu.
“We made a prosperous voyage
Till we came to this fatal coast,
When a storm it did rise, in seas and in skies,
That we gave ourselves up for lost.
Till we came to this fatal coast,
When a storm it did rise, in seas and in skies,
That we gave ourselves up for lost.
“Our vessel it was stranded
All on the shoals of Achen,
And all then did die, save only I,
And I hardly saved my bacon.
All on the shoals of Achen,
And all then did die, save only I,
And I hardly saved my bacon.
“It happ'd that very hour,
The Black King walking by
Did see me sprawling, on hands and knees crawling,
And took to his palace hard by.
The Black King walking by
Did see me sprawling, on hands and knees crawling,
And took to his palace hard by.
“And finding that I was
A likely lad for to see,
My bones well knit, and my joints well set,
And not above twenty-three,
A likely lad for to see,
My bones well knit, and my joints well set,
And not above twenty-three,
“He made me his gardener boy,
To sow pease and potatoes,
To water his flowers, when there were no showers,
And cut his parsley and lettuce.
To sow pease and potatoes,
To water his flowers, when there were no showers,
And cut his parsley and lettuce.
“Now it so fell out on a Sunday
(Which these Pagans never keep holy),
I was gathering rue, and thinking on Sue,
With a heart full of melancholy,
(Which these Pagans never keep holy),
I was gathering rue, and thinking on Sue,
With a heart full of melancholy,
“When the King of Achen's Daughter
Did open her casement to see;
And, as she look'd round on the gooseberry ground,
Her eyes they lit upon me;
Did open her casement to see;
And, as she look'd round on the gooseberry ground,
Her eyes they lit upon me;
“And seeing me tall and slim,
And of shape right personable;
My skin so white, and so very unlike
The blacks at her Father's table,
And of shape right personable;
My skin so white, and so very unlike
The blacks at her Father's table,
“She took it into her head
(For so the Devil did move her),
That I in good sooth, was a comely youth,
And would make a gallant Lover.
(For so the Devil did move her),
That I in good sooth, was a comely youth,
And would make a gallant Lover.
61
“So she tripp'd from her chamber so high,
All in silks and satins clad,
And her gown it rustled, as down she bustled,
With steps like a Princess sad.
All in silks and satins clad,
And her gown it rustled, as down she bustled,
With steps like a Princess sad.
“Her shoes they were deck'd with pearls,
And her hair with diamonds glisten'd,
And her gimcracks and toys, they made such a noise,
My mouth water'd the while I listen'd.
And her hair with diamonds glisten'd,
And her gimcracks and toys, they made such a noise,
My mouth water'd the while I listen'd.
“Then she tempted me with glances,
And with sugar'd words so tender,
(And tho' she was black, she was straight in the back,
And young, and tall, and slender—)
And with sugar'd words so tender,
(And tho' she was black, she was straight in the back,
And young, and tall, and slender—)
“But I my Love remember'd,
And the locket she did give me,
And resolv'd to be true to my darling Sue,
As she did ever believe me.
And the locket she did give me,
And resolv'd to be true to my darling Sue,
As she did ever believe me.
“Whereat the Princess wax'd
Both furious and angry,
And said, she was sure I had some Paramour
In kitchen or in laundry.
Both furious and angry,
And said, she was sure I had some Paramour
In kitchen or in laundry.
“And then, with a devilish grin,
She said, ‘Give me your locket’—
But I damn'd her for a Witch, and a conjuring Bitch,
And kept it in my pocket.
She said, ‘Give me your locket’—
But I damn'd her for a Witch, and a conjuring Bitch,
And kept it in my pocket.
“Howbeit, both day and night
She did torture and torment,
And said she, ‘If you'll yield to me the field,
‘I'll give thee thy heart's content.
She did torture and torment,
And said she, ‘If you'll yield to me the field,
‘I'll give thee thy heart's content.
“‘But give me up the locket,
‘And stay three months with me,
‘And then, if the will remains with you still,
‘I'll ship you off to sea.”
‘And stay three months with me,
‘And then, if the will remains with you still,
‘I'll ship you off to sea.”
“So I thought it the only way
To behold my lovely Sue,
And the thoughts of Old England, they made my heart tingle, and
I gave up the locket so true.
To behold my lovely Sue,
And the thoughts of Old England, they made my heart tingle, and
I gave up the locket so true.
“Thereon she laugh'd outright
With a hellish grin, and I saw
That the Princess was gone, and in her room
There stood old Martha Daw.
With a hellish grin, and I saw
That the Princess was gone, and in her room
There stood old Martha Daw.
“She was all astride a Broomstick,
And bid me get up behind;
So my wits being lost, the Broomstick I cross'd,
And away we flew, swift as the wind.
And bid me get up behind;
62
And away we flew, swift as the wind.
“But my head it soon turn'd giddy,
I reel'd and lost my balance,
So I tumbled over, like a perjur'd lover,
A warning to all gallants.
I reel'd and lost my balance,
So I tumbled over, like a perjur'd lover,
A warning to all gallants.
“And there where I tumbled down
The Indians found me lying;
My head they cut off, and my blood did quaff,
And set my flesh afrying.
The Indians found me lying;
My head they cut off, and my blood did quaff,
And set my flesh afrying.
“Hence, all ye English gallants,
A warning take by me,
Your true love's locket to keep in your pocket
Whenever you go to sea.
A warning take by me,
Your true love's locket to keep in your pocket
Whenever you go to sea.
“And, oh dear uncle Thomas,
I come to give you warning,
As then 'twas my chance with Davy to dance,
'Twill be yours to-morrow morning.
I come to give you warning,
As then 'twas my chance with Davy to dance,
'Twill be yours to-morrow morning.
“'Twas three years agone this night,
Three years gone clear and clean,
Since we sat down at Aunt's at the wedding to dance,
And our number was thirteen.
Three years gone clear and clean,
Since we sat down at Aunt's at the wedding to dance,
And our number was thirteen.
“Now I and sister Nan,
(Two of that fatal party)
Have both gone from Aunt's, with Davy to dance,
Tho' then we were hale and hearty.
(Two of that fatal party)
Have both gone from Aunt's, with Davy to dance,
Tho' then we were hale and hearty.
“And, as we both have died,
(I speak it with grief and sorrow—)
At the end of each year, it now is clean
That you should die to-morrow.
(I speak it with grief and sorrow—)
At the end of each year, it now is clean
That you should die to-morrow.
“But if, good uncle Thomas,
You'll promise, and promise truly,
To plough the main for England again,
And perform my orders duly,
You'll promise, and promise truly,
To plough the main for England again,
And perform my orders duly,
“Old Davy will allow you
Another year to live,
To visit your friends, and make up your odd ends,
And your enemies forgive.
Another year to live,
To visit your friends, and make up your odd ends,
And your enemies forgive.
“But friend, when you reach Old England,
To Laure'ston town you'll go,
And then to the Mayor, in open fair,
Impeach old Martha Daw.
To Laure'ston town you'll go,
And then to the Mayor, in open fair,
Impeach old Martha Daw.
63
“And next you'll see her hang'd
With the halter around her throat;
And, when void of life, with your clasp knife
The string of her apron cut.
With the halter around her throat;
And, when void of life, with your clasp knife
The string of her apron cut.
“Then, if that you determine
My last desires to do,
In her left hand pocket, you'll find the locket,
And carry it to Sue.”
My last desires to do,
In her left hand pocket, you'll find the locket,
And carry it to Sue.”
The grisly Spectre thus
In mournful accents spoke,
By which time, being morning, he gave me no warning,
But vanish'd in sulphur and smoke.
In mournful accents spoke,
By which time, being morning, he gave me no warning,
But vanish'd in sulphur and smoke.
Next day there sprang up a breeze,
And our ship began to tack,
And for fear of the Ghost, we left the coast,
And sail'd for England back.
And our ship began to tack,
And for fear of the Ghost, we left the coast,
And sail'd for England back.
And I being come home,
Did all his words pursue;
Old Martha likewise was hung at the 'size,
And I carried the locket to Sue.
Did all his words pursue;
Old Martha likewise was hung at the 'size,
And I carried the locket to Sue.
And now, being tired of life,
I make up my mind to die;
But I thought this story I'd lay before ye,
For the good of Posterity.
I make up my mind to die;
But I thought this story I'd lay before ye,
For the good of Posterity.
Oh never then sit at table
When the number is thirteen;
And, lest witches be there, put salt in your beer,
And scrape your platters clean.
When the number is thirteen;
And, lest witches be there, put salt in your beer,
And scrape your platters clean.
This imitation of Monk Lewis's “Tales of Wonder,” and of part of Coleridge's “Ancient Mariner,” has something of the flavor of the quaint ballad, called “As I sailed, as I sailed,” in which are recorded the piratical deeds and pendulous exit of Captain Kyd.—M.
64
TO THE CHILD OF CORINNA!
Oh, boy! may the wit of thy mother awaking
On thy dewy lip tremble, when years have gone by,
While the fire of Odoherty, fervidly breaking,
In glances and gleams, may illume thy young eye.
On thy dewy lip tremble, when years have gone by,
While the fire of Odoherty, fervidly breaking,
In glances and gleams, may illume thy young eye.
Oh! then such a fulness of power shall be seen
With the graces so blending, in union endearing,
That angels shall glide o'er the ocean green,
To catch a bright glimpse of the glory of Erin!
With the graces so blending, in union endearing,
That angels shall glide o'er the ocean green,
To catch a bright glimpse of the glory of Erin!
Oh! sure such a vision of beauty and might,
Commingling, in splendor, by him was exprest
The old Lydian sculptor, the delicate sprite,
That in Venus' soft girdle his Hercules drest.
Commingling, in splendor, by him was exprest
The old Lydian sculptor, the delicate sprite,
That in Venus' soft girdle his Hercules drest.
78
[“The ‘Whig,’ the lover, and the poet]
“The ‘Whig,’ the lover, and the poet,Are of imagination all compact.
One sees more devils than vast hell can hold—
The madman.”
79
[“Never, Iago. Like to the Pontic Sea]
“Never, Iago. Like to the Pontic Sea,Whose icy current and compulsive course
Ne'er feels retiring ebb, but keeps due on
To the Propontic and the Hellespont;
Even so my ‘frantic’ thoughts, with violent pace,
Shall ne'er look back, ne'er ebb to humble sense,
Till that a capable and wide revenge
Swallow them up.”
82
INCONSTANCY; A SONG TO MRS. M'WHIRTER.
By Mr. Odoherty.
“Ye fleeces of gold amidst crimson enroll'd
That sleep in the calm western sky,
Lovely relics of day float—ah! float not away!
Are ye gone? then, ye beauties, good-bye!”
It was thus the fair maid I had loved would have staid
The last gleamings of passion in me;
But the orb's fiery glow in the soft wave below
Had been cooled—and the thing could not be.
That sleep in the calm western sky,
Lovely relics of day float—ah! float not away!
Are ye gone? then, ye beauties, good-bye!”
It was thus the fair maid I had loved would have staid
The last gleamings of passion in me;
But the orb's fiery glow in the soft wave below
Had been cooled—and the thing could not be.
While thro' deserts you rove, if you find a green grove
Where the dark branches overhead meet,
There repose you a while from the heat and the toil,
And be thankful the shade is so sweet;
But if long you remain it is odds but the rain
Or the wind 'mong the leaves may be stirring,
They will strip the boughs bare—you're a fool to stay there—
Change the scene without further demurring.
Where the dark branches overhead meet,
There repose you a while from the heat and the toil,
And be thankful the shade is so sweet;
But if long you remain it is odds but the rain
Or the wind 'mong the leaves may be stirring,
They will strip the boughs bare—you're a fool to stay there—
Change the scene without further demurring.
If a rich-laden tree in your wanderings you see
With the ripe fruit all glowing and swelling,
Take your fill as you pass—if you don't you're an ass,
But I daresay you don't need my telling—
'Twould be just as great fooling to come back for more pulling,
When a week or two more shall have gone,
These firm plums very rapidly, they will taste very vapidly,
—By good luck we'll have pears coming on!
With the ripe fruit all glowing and swelling,
Take your fill as you pass—if you don't you're an ass,
But I daresay you don't need my telling—
'Twould be just as great fooling to come back for more pulling,
83
These firm plums very rapidly, they will taste very vapidly,
—By good luck we'll have pears coming on!
All around Nature's range is from changes to changes,
And in change all her charming is centered—
When you step from the stream where you've bathed, 'twere a dream
To suppose't the same stream that you entered;
Each clear crystal wave just a passing kiss gave,
And kept rolling away to the sea—
So the love-stricken slave for a moment may rave,
But ere long oh! how distant he'll be?
And in change all her charming is centered—
When you step from the stream where you've bathed, 'twere a dream
To suppose't the same stream that you entered;
Each clear crystal wave just a passing kiss gave,
And kept rolling away to the sea—
So the love-stricken slave for a moment may rave,
But ere long oh! how distant he'll be?
Why—'tis only in name, you, e'en you, are the same
With the she that inspired my devotion,
Every bit of the lip that I lov'd so to sip
Has been changed in the general commotion—
Even these soft gleaming eyes that awaked my young sighs
Have been altered a thousand times over;
Why? Oh! why then complain that so short was your reign?
Must all Nature go round but your lover?
With the she that inspired my devotion,
Every bit of the lip that I lov'd so to sip
Has been changed in the general commotion—
Even these soft gleaming eyes that awaked my young sighs
Have been altered a thousand times over;
Why? Oh! why then complain that so short was your reign?
Must all Nature go round but your lover?
84
CHANT.—BY MRS. M'WHIRTER.
I wonder what the mischief was in me when a bit of my music I proffered ye!
How could any woman sing a good song when she's just parting with Morgan Odoherty?
A poor body, I think, would have more occasion for a comfortable quiet can,
To keep up her spirits in taking lave of so nate a young man—
Besides, as for me, I'm not an orator like Bushe, Plunket, Grattan, or Curran,
So I can only hum a few words to the old chant of the Powldoodies of Burran.
How could any woman sing a good song when she's just parting with Morgan Odoherty?
A poor body, I think, would have more occasion for a comfortable quiet can,
To keep up her spirits in taking lave of so nate a young man—
Besides, as for me, I'm not an orator like Bushe, Plunket, Grattan, or Curran,
So I can only hum a few words to the old chant of the Powldoodies of Burran.
Chorus
—Oh! the Powldoodies of Burran,
The green green Powldoodies of Burran,
The green Powldoodies, the clean Powldoodies,
The gaping Powldoodies of Burran.
The green green Powldoodies of Burran,
The green Powldoodies, the clean Powldoodies,
The gaping Powldoodies of Burran.
85
I remember a saying of my Lord Norbury, that excellent Judge,
Says he, never believe what a man says to ye, Molly, for believe me 'tis all fudge;
He said it sitting on the Bench before the whole Grand Jury of Tipperary,
If I had minded it, I had been the better on't, as sure as my name's Mary:
I would have paid not the smallest attention, ye good-for-nothing elf ye,
To the fine speeches that took me off my feet in the swate city Philadelphy.
Says he, never believe what a man says to ye, Molly, for believe me 'tis all fudge;
He said it sitting on the Bench before the whole Grand Jury of Tipperary,
If I had minded it, I had been the better on't, as sure as my name's Mary:
86
To the fine speeches that took me off my feet in the swate city Philadelphy.
Oh! the Powldoodies of Burran, &c., &c.
87
By the same rule, says my dear Mr. Bushe, one night when I was sitting beside Mausey,
“Molly, love,” says he, “if you go on at this rate, you've no idea what bad luck it will cause ye;
You may go on very merrily for a while, but you'll see what will come on't,
When to answer for all your misdeeds, at the last you are summoned;
Do you fancy a young woman can proceed in this sad lightheaded way,
And not suffer in the long run, tho' manetime she may merrily say,
“Molly, love,” says he, “if you go on at this rate, you've no idea what bad luck it will cause ye;
You may go on very merrily for a while, but you'll see what will come on't,
When to answer for all your misdeeds, at the last you are summoned;
Do you fancy a young woman can proceed in this sad lightheaded way,
And not suffer in the long run, tho' manetime she may merrily say,
Oh! the Powldoodies of Burran, &c., &c.
But I'm sure there's plenty of other people that's very near as bad as me.
Yes, and I will make bould to affirm it in the very tiptopsomest degree;
Only they're rather more cunning concealing on't, tho' they meet with their fops
Every now and then, by the mass, about four o'clock in their Milliner's shops;
In our own pretty Dame street I've seen it—the fine Lady comes commonly first,
And then comes her beau on pretence of a watch-ribbon, or the like I purtest.
Yes, and I will make bould to affirm it in the very tiptopsomest degree;
Only they're rather more cunning concealing on't, tho' they meet with their fops
Every now and then, by the mass, about four o'clock in their Milliner's shops;
In our own pretty Dame street I've seen it—the fine Lady comes commonly first,
And then comes her beau on pretence of a watch-ribbon, or the like I purtest.
Oh! the Powldoodies of Burran, &c., &c.
But as for me, I could not withstand him, 'tis the beautiful dear Ensign I mean,
When he came into the Shining Daisy with his milkwhite smallclothes so clean,
With his epaulette shining on his shoulder, and his golden gorget at his breast,
And his long silken sash so genteely twisted many times round about his neat waist;
His black gaiters that were so tight, and reached up to a little below his knee,
And shewed so well the prettiest calf e'er an Irish lass had the good luck to see.
When he came into the Shining Daisy with his milkwhite smallclothes so clean,
With his epaulette shining on his shoulder, and his golden gorget at his breast,
And his long silken sash so genteely twisted many times round about his neat waist;
His black gaiters that were so tight, and reached up to a little below his knee,
And shewed so well the prettiest calf e'er an Irish lass had the good luck to see.
Oh! the Powldoodies of Burran, &c., &c.
His eyes were like a flaming coal-fire, all so black and yet so bright,
Or like a star shining clearly in the middle of the dark heaven at night,
And the white of them was not white, but a sort of charming hue,
Like a morning sky, or skimmed milk, of a delicate sweet blue;
But when he whispered sweetly, then his eyes were so soft and dim,
That it would have been a heart of brass not to have pity upon him,
Or like a star shining clearly in the middle of the dark heaven at night,
And the white of them was not white, but a sort of charming hue,
Like a morning sky, or skimmed milk, of a delicate sweet blue;
But when he whispered sweetly, then his eyes were so soft and dim,
That it would have been a heart of brass not to have pity upon him,
Oh! the Powldoodies of Burran, &c., &c
88
And yet now you see he's left me like a pair of old boots or shoes,
And makes love to all the handsome ladies, for ne'er a one of them can refuse;
Through America and sweet Ireland, and Bath and London City,
For he must always be running after something that's new and pretty,
Playing the devil's own delights in Holland, Spain, Portugal, and France,
And here too in the cold Scotch mountains, where I've met with him by very chance.
And makes love to all the handsome ladies, for ne'er a one of them can refuse;
Through America and sweet Ireland, and Bath and London City,
For he must always be running after something that's new and pretty,
Playing the devil's own delights in Holland, Spain, Portugal, and France,
And here too in the cold Scotch mountains, where I've met with him by very chance.
Oh! the Powldoodies of Burran, &c., &c.
When he first ran off and deserted me, I thought my heart was plucked away,
Such a tugging in my breast, I did not sleep a wink till peep of day—
May I be a sinner if I ever bowed but for a moment my eye-lid,
Tossing round about from side to side in the middle of my bid.
One minute kicking off all the three blankets, the sheets, and the counterpane,
And then stuffing them up over my head like a body beside myself again.
Such a tugging in my breast, I did not sleep a wink till peep of day—
May I be a sinner if I ever bowed but for a moment my eye-lid,
Tossing round about from side to side in the middle of my bid.
One minute kicking off all the three blankets, the sheets, and the counterpane,
And then stuffing them up over my head like a body beside myself again.
Oh! the Powldoodies of Burran, &c., &c.
Says I to myself, I'll repeat over the whole of the Pater Noster, Ave-Maria, and Creed,
If I don't fall over into a doze e'er I'm done with them 'twill be a very uncommon thing indeed;
But, would you believe it? I was quite lively when I came down to the Amen,
And it was always just as bad tho' I repeated them twenty times over and over again;
I also tried counting of a thousand, but still found myself broad awake,
With a cursed pain in the fore part of my head, all for my dear sweet Ensign Odoherty's sake.
If I don't fall over into a doze e'er I'm done with them 'twill be a very uncommon thing indeed;
But, would you believe it? I was quite lively when I came down to the Amen,
And it was always just as bad tho' I repeated them twenty times over and over again;
I also tried counting of a thousand, but still found myself broad awake,
With a cursed pain in the fore part of my head, all for my dear sweet Ensign Odoherty's sake.
Oh! the Powldoodies of Burran, &c., &c.
But, to cut a long story short, I was in a high fever when I woke in the morning,
Whereby all women in my situation should take profit and warning;
And Doctor Oglethorpe he was sent for, and he ordered me on no account to rise,
But to lie still and have the whole of my back covered over with Spanish flies;
He also gave me leeches and salts, castor oil, and the balsam capivi,
Till I was brought down to a mere shadow, and so pale that the sight would have grieved ye.
Whereby all women in my situation should take profit and warning;
And Doctor Oglethorpe he was sent for, and he ordered me on no account to rise,
But to lie still and have the whole of my back covered over with Spanish flies;
He also gave me leeches and salts, castor oil, and the balsam capivi,
Till I was brought down to a mere shadow, and so pale that the sight would have grieved ye.
Oh! the Powldoodies of Burran, &c., &c.
But in the course of a few days more I began to stump a little about,
And by the blessing of air and exercise, I grew every day more and more stout;
And in a week or two I recovered my twist, and could play a capital knife and fork,
Being not in the least particular whether it was beef, veal, lamb, mutton, or pork;
But of all the things in the world, for I was always my father's own true daughter,
I liked best to dine on fried tripes, and wash it down with a little hot brandy and water.
And by the blessing of air and exercise, I grew every day more and more stout;
And in a week or two I recovered my twist, and could play a capital knife and fork,
Being not in the least particular whether it was beef, veal, lamb, mutton, or pork;
But of all the things in the world, for I was always my father's own true daughter,
I liked best to dine on fried tripes, and wash it down with a little hot brandy and water.
Oh! the Powldoodies of Burran, &c., &c.
If I had the least bit of genius for poems, I could make some very nice songs,
On the cruelties of some people's sweethearts, and some people's sufferings and wrongs;
For he was master, I'm sure, of my house, and there was nothing at all at all
In the whole of the Shining Daisy for which he could not just ring the bell and call;
We kept always a good larder of pigeon pyes, hung beef, ham, and cowheel,
And we would have got anything to please him that we could either beg, borrow, or steal.
On the cruelties of some people's sweethearts, and some people's sufferings and wrongs;
89
In the whole of the Shining Daisy for which he could not just ring the bell and call;
We kept always a good larder of pigeon pyes, hung beef, ham, and cowheel,
And we would have got anything to please him that we could either beg, borrow, or steal.
Oh! the Powldoodies of Burran, &c., &c.
And at night when we might be taking our noggin in the little back-room,
I thought myself as sure of my charmer as if he had gone to church my bridegroom;
But I need not deep harping on that string and ripping up of the same old sore,
He went off in the twinkling of a bed-post, and I never heard tell of him no more,
So I married the great Doctor Oglethorpe, who had been my admirer all along,
And we had some scolloped Powldoodies for supper; and every crature joined in the old song,
I thought myself as sure of my charmer as if he had gone to church my bridegroom;
But I need not deep harping on that string and ripping up of the same old sore,
He went off in the twinkling of a bed-post, and I never heard tell of him no more,
So I married the great Doctor Oglethorpe, who had been my admirer all along,
And we had some scolloped Powldoodies for supper; and every crature joined in the old song,
Oh! the Powldoodies of Burran, &c., &c.
Some people eats their Powldoodies quite neat just as they came out of the sea,
But with a little black pepper and vinegar some other people's stomachs better agree;
Young ladies are very fond of oyster pates, and young gentlemen of oyster broth,
But I think I know a bit of pasture that is far better than them both:
For whenever we want to be comfortable says I to the Doctor—my dear man,
Let's have a few scolloped Powldoodies, and a bit of tripe fried in the pan,
But with a little black pepper and vinegar some other people's stomachs better agree;
Young ladies are very fond of oyster pates, and young gentlemen of oyster broth,
But I think I know a bit of pasture that is far better than them both:
For whenever we want to be comfortable says I to the Doctor—my dear man,
Let's have a few scolloped Powldoodies, and a bit of tripe fried in the pan,
Chorus
—Oh! the Powldoodies of Burran,
The green green Powldoodies of Burran,
The green Powldoodies, the clean Powldoodies,
The gaping Powldoodies of Burran.
The green green Powldoodies of Burran,
The green Powldoodies, the clean Powldoodies,
The gaping Powldoodies of Burran.
93
ODOHERTY'S GARLAND.
IN HONOR OF MRS. COOK, THE GREAT.
Let the Emerald Isle make O'Brien her boast,
And let Yorkshire be proud of her “strapping young man,”
But London, gay London, should glory the most,
She has reared Mrs. Cook, let them match her who can;
This female Goliah is thicker and higher
Than Italian Belzoni, or Highlandman Sam.
Yet the terrible creature is pretty in feature,
And her smile is as soft as a dove or a lamb.
And let Yorkshire be proud of her “strapping young man,”
But London, gay London, should glory the most,
94
This female Goliah is thicker and higher
Than Italian Belzoni, or Highlandman Sam.
Yet the terrible creature is pretty in feature,
And her smile is as soft as a dove or a lamb.
95
When she opens her eyelids she dazzles you quite
With the vast flood of splendor that flashes around;
Old Ajax, ambitious to perish in light,
In one glance of her glory perdition had found.
Both in verse and in prose, to the bud of a rose,
Sweet lips have been likened by amorous beau;
But her lips may be said to be like a rose-bed
Their fragrance so full is, so broad is their glow.
With the vast flood of splendor that flashes around;
Old Ajax, ambitious to perish in light,
In one glance of her glory perdition had found.
Both in verse and in prose, to the bud of a rose,
Sweet lips have been likened by amorous beau;
But her lips may be said to be like a rose-bed
Their fragrance so full is, so broad is their glow.
The similitudes used in king Solomon's book,
In laudation of some little Jewess of old,
If we only suppose them devised for the Cook,
Would appear the reverse of improper or bold.
There is many a tree that is shorter than she,
In particular that on which Johnston was swung,
Had the rope been about her huge arm, there's no doubt,
That the friend of the Scotsman at once had been hung,
In laudation of some little Jewess of old,
If we only suppose them devised for the Cook,
Would appear the reverse of improper or bold.
There is many a tree that is shorter than she,
In particular that on which Johnston was swung,
Had the rope been about her huge arm, there's no doubt,
That the friend of the Scotsman at once had been hung,
The cedars that grew upon Lebanon hill,
And the towers of Damascus might well be applied,
With imperfect ideas the fancy to fill,
Of the monstrous perfections of Cook's pretty bride.
Oh! if one of the name be immortal in fame,
Because round the wide globe he adventured to roam,
Mr. Cook, I don't see why yourself should not be
As illustrious as he without stirring from home!
And the towers of Damascus might well be applied,
With imperfect ideas the fancy to fill,
Of the monstrous perfections of Cook's pretty bride.
Oh! if one of the name be immortal in fame,
Because round the wide globe he adventured to roam,
Mr. Cook, I don't see why yourself should not be
As illustrious as he without stirring from home!
Quoth Odoherty.
96
THE EVE OF ST. JERRY.
[_]
[The reader will learn with astonishment that I composed the two following ballads in the fourteenth year of my age, i. e. A. D. 1780. I doubt if either Milton or Pope rivalled this precocity of genius. —M. O.]
Dick Gossip the barber arose with the cock,
And pull'd his breeches on;
Down the staircase of wood, as fast as he could,
The valiant shaver ran.
And pull'd his breeches on;
Down the staircase of wood, as fast as he could,
The valiant shaver ran.
He went not to the country forth
To shave or frizzle hair;
Nor to join in the battle to be fought
At Canterbury fair.
To shave or frizzle hair;
Nor to join in the battle to be fought
At Canterbury fair.
Yet his hat was fiercely cocked, and his razors in his pocket,
And his torturing irons he bore;
A staff of crab-tree in his hand had he,
Full five feet long and more.
And his torturing irons he bore;
A staff of crab-tree in his hand had he,
Full five feet long and more.
The barber return'd in three days space,
And blistered were his feet;
And sad and peevish were his looks,
As he turn'd the corner street.
And blistered were his feet;
And sad and peevish were his looks,
As he turn'd the corner street.
He came not from where Canterbury
Ran ankle-deep in blood;
Where butcher Jem, and his comrades grim,
The shaving tribe withstood.
Ran ankle-deep in blood;
Where butcher Jem, and his comrades grim,
The shaving tribe withstood.
Yet were his eyes bruis'd black and blue;
His cravat twisted and tore;
His razors were with gore imbued—
But it was not professional gore.
His cravat twisted and tore;
His razors were with gore imbued—
But it was not professional gore.
He halted at the painted pole,
Full loudly did he rap,
And whistled on his shaving boy,
Whose name was Johnny Strap.
Full loudly did he rap,
And whistled on his shaving boy,
Whose name was Johnny Strap.
Come hither, come hither, young tickle-beard,
And mind that you tell me true,
For these three long days that I've been away,
What did Mrs. Gossip do?
And mind that you tell me true,
97
What did Mrs. Gossip do?
When the clock struck eight, Mrs. Gossip went straight,
In spite of the pattering rain,
Without stay or stop to the butcher's shop,
That lives in Cleaver-lane.
In spite of the pattering rain,
Without stay or stop to the butcher's shop,
That lives in Cleaver-lane.
I watch'd her steps, and secret came
Where she sat upon a chair.
No person was in the butcher's shop—
The devil a soul was there.
Where she sat upon a chair.
No person was in the butcher's shop—
The devil a soul was there.
The second night I 'spy'd a light
As I went up the strand,
'Twas she who ran, with pattens on,
And a lanthern in her hand:
As I went up the strand,
'Twas she who ran, with pattens on,
And a lanthern in her hand:
She laid it down upon a bench,
And shook her wet attire;
And drew in the elbow chair, to warm
Her toes before the fire.
And shook her wet attire;
And drew in the elbow chair, to warm
Her toes before the fire.
In the twinkling of a walking stick,
A greasy butcher came,
And with a pair of bellows, he
Blew up the dying flame.
A greasy butcher came,
And with a pair of bellows, he
Blew up the dying flame.
And many a word the butcher spoke
To Mrs. Gossip there,
But the rain fell fast, and it blew such a blast,
That I could not tell what they were.
To Mrs. Gossip there,
But the rain fell fast, and it blew such a blast,
That I could not tell what they were.
The third night there the sky was fair,
There neither was wind nor rain;
And again I watch'd the secret pair
At the shop in Cleaver-lane.
There neither was wind nor rain;
And again I watch'd the secret pair
At the shop in Cleaver-lane.
And I heard her say, “Dick Gossip's away,
So we'll be blithe and merry,
And the bolts I'll undo, sweet butcher to you,
On the eve of good St. Jerry.”
So we'll be blithe and merry,
And the bolts I'll undo, sweet butcher to you,
On the eve of good St. Jerry.”
“I can not come, I must not come”—
“For shame, faint hearted snarler,
Must I then moan, and sit alone,
In Dicky Gossip's parlor.
“For shame, faint hearted snarler,
Must I then moan, and sit alone,
In Dicky Gossip's parlor.
98
“The dog shall not tear you, and Strap shall not hear you,
And blankets I'll spread on the stair;
By the blood-red sherry, and holy St. Jerry,
I conjure thee sweet butcher be there.”
And blankets I'll spread on the stair;
By the blood-red sherry, and holy St. Jerry,
I conjure thee sweet butcher be there.”
“Tho' the dog should not tear me, and Strap should not hear me.
And blankets be spread on the stair,
Yet there's Mr. Parrot, who sleeps in the garret,
To my footsteps he could swear.”—
And blankets be spread on the stair,
Yet there's Mr. Parrot, who sleeps in the garret,
To my footsteps he could swear.”—
“Fear not, Mr. Parrot, who sleeps in the garret,
For to Hampstead the way he has ta'en;
An inquest to hold, as I have been told,
On the corpse of a butcher that's slain.”
For to Hampstead the way he has ta'en;
An inquest to hold, as I have been told,
On the corpse of a butcher that's slain.”
He turned him around, and grimly he frown'd,
And he laugh'd right scornfully,
“The inquest that's held, on the man that's been killed,
May as well be held on me.
And he laugh'd right scornfully,
“The inquest that's held, on the man that's been killed,
May as well be held on me.
“At the lone midnight hour, when hobgoblins have power,
In thy chamber I'll appear;”—
With that he was gone, and your wife left alone,
And I came running here.”—
In thy chamber I'll appear;”—
With that he was gone, and your wife left alone,
And I came running here.”—
Then changed I trow, was the barber's brow,
From the chalk to the beet-root red,
“Now tell me the mien of the butcher thou'st seen,
By Mambrino I'll smite off his head.”
From the chalk to the beet-root red,
“Now tell me the mien of the butcher thou'st seen,
By Mambrino I'll smite off his head.”
99
“On the point of his nose, which was like a red rose,
Was a wart of enormous size;
And he made a great vaporing with a blue and white apron,
And red stockings roll'd up to his thighs.”
Was a wart of enormous size;
And he made a great vaporing with a blue and white apron,
And red stockings roll'd up to his thighs.”
“Thou liest, thou liest, young Johnny Strap,
It is all a fib you tell,
For the butcher was taken, as dead as bacon,
From the bottom of Carisbrook well.”
It is all a fib you tell,
For the butcher was taken, as dead as bacon,
From the bottom of Carisbrook well.”
“My master attend, and I'll be your friend,
I don't value madam a button;
But I heard Mistress say, don't leave, I pray,
Sweet Timothy Slaughter-mutton.”
I don't value madam a button;
But I heard Mistress say, don't leave, I pray,
Sweet Timothy Slaughter-mutton.”
He ope'd the shop door, the counter he jump'd o'er,
And overturned Strap,
Then bolted up the stair, where he found his lady fair,
With the Kitten on her lap.
And overturned Strap,
Then bolted up the stair, where he found his lady fair,
With the Kitten on her lap.
“Now hail, now hail, thou lady bright,—
Now hail, thou barber trim,
What news from Canterbury fight,
What news from bloody Jem?”
Now hail, thou barber trim,
What news from Canterbury fight,
What news from bloody Jem?”
“Canterbury is red with gore,
For many a barber fell;
And the mayor has charg'd us for evermore,
To watch the butcher's well.”—
For many a barber fell;
And the mayor has charg'd us for evermore,
To watch the butcher's well.”—
Mrs. Gossip blush'd, and her cheek was flush'd,
But the barber shook his head;
And having observed that the night was cold,
He tumbled into bed.
But the barber shook his head;
And having observed that the night was cold,
He tumbled into bed.
Mrs. Gossip lay and mourn'd, and Dicky toss'd and turn'd;
And he mutter'd while half asleep,
The stone is large and round, and the halter tight and sound,
And the well thirty fathoms deep.
And he mutter'd while half asleep,
The stone is large and round, and the halter tight and sound,
And the well thirty fathoms deep.
The gloomy dome of St. Paul's struck three,
The morning began to blink,
And Gossip slept, as if his wife
Had put laudanum in his drink.
The morning began to blink,
And Gossip slept, as if his wife
Had put laudanum in his drink.
100
Mrs. Gossip drew wide the curtains aside,
The candle had burn'd to the socket,
And lo! Timothy stood, all cover'd with blood,
With his right hand in his pocket.
The candle had burn'd to the socket,
And lo! Timothy stood, all cover'd with blood,
With his right hand in his pocket.
“Dear Slaughter-mutton, away,” she cried,
“I pray thee do not stop”—
“Mrs. Gossip, I know, who sleeps by thy side,
But he sleeps as sound as a top.
“I pray thee do not stop”—
“Mrs. Gossip, I know, who sleeps by thy side,
But he sleeps as sound as a top.
“Near Carisbrook well I lately fell
Beneath a barber's knife;
The coroner's inquest was held on me—
But it did not restore me to life.
Beneath a barber's knife;
The coroner's inquest was held on me—
But it did not restore me to life.
“By thy husband's hand, was I foully slain,
He threw me into the well,
And my sprite in the shop, in Cleaver-lane,
For a season is doom'd to dwell.”—
He threw me into the well,
And my sprite in the shop, in Cleaver-lane,
For a season is doom'd to dwell.”—
Love master'd fear—“What brings thee here?”
The Love-sick matron said,—
“Is thy fair carcase gone to pot?”—
The goblin shook his head.
The Love-sick matron said,—
“Is thy fair carcase gone to pot?”—
The goblin shook his head.
“I slaughter'd sheep, and slaughter'd was,
And for breaking the marriage band,
My flesh and bones go to David Jones—
But let us first shake hands.”
And for breaking the marriage band,
My flesh and bones go to David Jones—
But let us first shake hands.”
He laid his left fist, on an oaken chest,
And, as she cried—“don't burn us;”
With the other he grasp'd her by the nose,
And scorch'd her like a furnace.
And, as she cried—“don't burn us;”
With the other he grasp'd her by the nose,
And scorch'd her like a furnace.
There is a felon in Newgate jail,
Who dreads the next assize;
A woman doth dwell, in Bedlam cell,
With a patch between her eyes.
Who dreads the next assize;
A woman doth dwell, in Bedlam cell,
With a patch between her eyes.
The woman who dwells in Bedlam cell,
Whose reason is not worth a button,
Is the wife of the barber in Newgate jail,
Who slaughter'd Slaughter-mutton.
Whose reason is not worth a button,
Is the wife of the barber in Newgate jail,
Who slaughter'd Slaughter-mutton.
101
THE RIME OF THE AUNCIENT WAGGONERE.
IN FOUR PARTS.
1. Part First.
It is an auncient Waggonere,
And hee stoppeth one of nine:—
“Now wherefore dost thou grip me soe
With that horny fist of thine?”
And hee stoppeth one of nine:—
“Now wherefore dost thou grip me soe
With that horny fist of thine?”
“The bridegroom's doors are opened wide,
And thither I must walke;
Soe, by youre leave, I must be gone,
I have noe time for talke!”
And thither I must walke;
Soe, by youre leave, I must be gone,
I have noe time for talke!”
Hee holds him with his horny fist—
“There was a wain,” quothe hee,
“Hold offe thou raggamouffine tykke,”—
Eftsoones his fist dropped hee.
“There was a wain,” quothe hee,
“Hold offe thou raggamouffine tykke,”—
Eftsoones his fist dropped hee.
Hee satte him downe upon a stone,
With ruefulle looks of feare;
And thus began this tippyse manne,
The red nosed waggonere.
With ruefulle looks of feare;
And thus began this tippyse manne,
The red nosed waggonere.
“The waine is fulle, the horses pulle,
Merrilye did we trotte
Alonge the bridge, alonge the road,
A jolly crewe I wotte;”—
Merrilye did we trotte
Alonge the bridge, alonge the road,
A jolly crewe I wotte;”—
And here the tailore smotte his breaste,
He smelte the cabbage potte!
“The nighte was darke, like Noe's arke,
Oure waggone moved alonge;
He smelte the cabbage potte!
“The nighte was darke, like Noe's arke,
Oure waggone moved alonge;
The hail pour'd faste, loude roared the blaste,
Yet stille we moved alonge;
And sung in chorus, ‘Cease loud Borus,’
A very charminge songe.
Yet stille we moved alonge;
And sung in chorus, ‘Cease loud Borus,’
A very charminge songe.
“‘Bravoe, bravissimoe,’ I cried,
The sounde was quite elatinge;
But, in a trice, upon the ice,
We hearde the horses skaitinge.
The sounde was quite elatinge;
But, in a trice, upon the ice,
We hearde the horses skaitinge.
“The ice was here, the ice was there,
It was a dismale mattere,
To see the cargoe, one by one,
Flounderinge in the wattere!
It was a dismale mattere,
To see the cargoe, one by one,
Flounderinge in the wattere!
102
“With rout and roare, we reached the shore,
And never a soul did sinke;
But in the rivere, gone for evere,
Swum our meate and drinke.
And never a soul did sinke;
But in the rivere, gone for evere,
Swum our meate and drinke.
“At lengthe we spied a goode grey goose,
Thorough the snow it came;
And with the butte ende of my whippe,
I hailed it in Goddhis name.
Thorough the snow it came;
And with the butte ende of my whippe,
I hailed it in Goddhis name.
“It staggered as it had been drunke,
So dexterous was it hitte;
Of brokene boughs we made a fire,
Thomme Loncheone roasted itte.”—
So dexterous was it hitte;
Of brokene boughs we made a fire,
Thomme Loncheone roasted itte.”—
“Be done, thou tipsye waggonere,
“To the feaste I must awaye.”—
The waggonere seized him bye the coatte,
And forced him there to staye,
Begginge, in gentlemanlie style,
Butte halfe ane hour's delaye.
“To the feaste I must awaye.”—
The waggonere seized him bye the coatte,
And forced him there to staye,
Begginge, in gentlemanlie style,
Butte halfe ane hour's delaye.
2. Part Second.
“The crimson sunne was rising o'ere
The verge of the horizon;
Upon my worde, as faire a sunne
As ever I clapped eyes onne.
The verge of the horizon;
Upon my worde, as faire a sunne
As ever I clapped eyes onne.
“'Twill be ane comfortable thinge,”
The mutinouus crewe 'gan crye;
“'Twill be an comfortable thinge,
Within the jaile to lye;
Ah! execrable wretche,” saide they,
“Thatte caused the goose to die!
The mutinouus crewe 'gan crye;
“'Twill be an comfortable thinge,
Within the jaile to lye;
Ah! execrable wretche,” saide they,
“Thatte caused the goose to die!
“The day was drawing near itte's close,
The sunne was well nighe settinge;
When lo it seemed as iffe his face
Was veiled with fringe-warke-nettinge.
The sunne was well nighe settinge;
When lo it seemed as iffe his face
Was veiled with fringe-warke-nettinge.
“Somme saide itte was ane apple tree,
Laden with goodlye fruite,
Somme swore itte was ane foreigne birde,
Some said it was ane brute;
Alas! it was ane bumbailiffe,
Riding in pursuite!
Laden with goodlye fruite,
Somme swore itte was ane foreigne birde,
Some said it was ane brute;
Alas! it was ane bumbailiffe,
Riding in pursuite!
103
“A hue and crye sterte uppe behind,
Whilke smote oure ears like thunder,
Within waggone there was drede,
Astonishmente and wonder.
Whilke smote oure ears like thunder,
Within waggone there was drede,
Astonishmente and wonder.
“One after one, the rascalls rann,
And from the carre did jump;
One after one, one after one,
They felle with heavy thump.
And from the carre did jump;
One after one, one after one,
They felle with heavy thump.
“Six miles ane houre theye offe did scoure,
Like shippes on ane stormye ocean,
Theire garments flappinge in the winde,
With ane shorte uneasy motion.
Like shippes on ane stormye ocean,
Theire garments flappinge in the winde,
With ane shorte uneasy motion.
“Their bodies with their legs did flye,
Theye fled withe feare and glyffe;
Why star'st thoue soe?—With one goode blow,
I felled the bumbailiffe!”
Theye fled withe feare and glyffe;
Why star'st thoue soe?—With one goode blow,
I felled the bumbailiffe!”
3. Part Third.
“I feare thee, auncient waggonere,
I feare thy hornye fiste,
For itte is stained with gooses gore,
And bailiffe's blood, I wist.
I feare thy hornye fiste,
For itte is stained with gooses gore,
And bailiffe's blood, I wist.
“I fear to gette ane fisticuffe
From thy leathern knuckles brown;
With that the tailore strove to ryse—
The waggonere thrusts him down.
From thy leathern knuckles brown;
With that the tailore strove to ryse—
The waggonere thrusts him down.
“‘Thou craven, if thou mov'st a limbe,
I'll give thee cause for feare;’—
And thus went on, that tipsye man,
The red-billed waggonere.
I'll give thee cause for feare;’—
And thus went on, that tipsye man,
The red-billed waggonere.
The bumbailiffe so beautifull!
Declared itte was no joke,
For, to his knowledge, both his legs,
And fifteen ribbes were broke.
Declared itte was no joke,
For, to his knowledge, both his legs,
And fifteen ribbes were broke.
“The lighte was gone, the nighte came on,
Ane hundrede lantherns sheen,
Glimmerred upon the kinge's highwaye,
Ane lovelye sighte I ween.
Ane hundrede lantherns sheen,
Glimmerred upon the kinge's highwaye,
Ane lovelye sighte I ween.
104
“‘Is it he,’ quoth one, ‘is this the manne,
I'll laye the rascalle stiffe;’—
With cruel stroke the beak he broke
Of the harmless bumbailiffe.
I'll laye the rascalle stiffe;’—
With cruel stroke the beak he broke
Of the harmless bumbailiffe.
“The threatening of the saucye rogue
No more I coulde abide.
Advancing forthe my goode right legge,
Three paces and a stride,
I sent my lefte foot dexterously
Seven inches thro' his side.
No more I coulde abide.
Advancing forthe my goode right legge,
Three paces and a stride,
I sent my lefte foot dexterously
Seven inches thro' his side.
“Up came the seconde from the vanne;
We had scarcely fought a round,
When some one smote me from behinde,
And I fell down in a swound:
We had scarcely fought a round,
When some one smote me from behinde,
And I fell down in a swound:
“And when my head began to clear,
I heard the yemering crew—
Quoth one, ‘this man hath penance done,
And penance more shall do.’”
I heard the yemering crew—
Quoth one, ‘this man hath penance done,
And penance more shall do.’”
4. Part Fourth.
“Oh! Freedom is a glorious thing!—
And tailore, by the bye,
I'd rather in a halter swing,
Than in a dungeon lie.
And tailore, by the bye,
I'd rather in a halter swing,
Than in a dungeon lie.
“The jailore came to bring me foode,
Forget it will I never,
How he turned up the white o' his eye,
When I stuck him in the liver.
Forget it will I never,
How he turned up the white o' his eye,
When I stuck him in the liver.
“His threade of life was snapt; once more
I reached the open streete;
The people sung out ‘Gardyloo’
As I ran down the streete.
Methought the blessed air of heaven
Never smelte so sweete.
I reached the open streete;
The people sung out ‘Gardyloo’
As I ran down the streete.
Methought the blessed air of heaven
Never smelte so sweete.
“Once more upon the broad highwaye,
I walked with feare and drede;
And every fifteen steppes I tooke
I turned about my heade,
For feare the corporal of the guarde
Might close behind me trede!
I walked with feare and drede;
And every fifteen steppes I tooke
I turned about my heade,
For feare the corporal of the guarde
Might close behind me trede!
105
“Behold upon the western wave,
Setteth the broad bright sunne;
So I must onward, as I have
Full fifteen miles to runne;—
Setteth the broad bright sunne;
So I must onward, as I have
Full fifteen miles to runne;—
“And should the bailliffes hither come
To aske whilke waye I've gone,
Tell them I took the othere road,
Said hee, and trotted onne.”
To aske whilke waye I've gone,
Tell them I took the othere road,
Said hee, and trotted onne.”
The tailore rushed into the roome,
O'erturning three or foure;
Fractured his skulle against the walle,
And worde spake never more!!
O'erturning three or foure;
Fractured his skulle against the walle,
And worde spake never more!!
Morale.
Such is the fate of foolish men,The danger all may see,
Of those, who list to waggonere,
And keepe bad companye.
| Miscellaneous writings of the late Dr. Maginn | |