Dramatic Scenes With Other Poems, Now First Printed. By Barry Cornwall [i.e. Bryan Waller Procter]. Illustrated |
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JACK TURPIN. |
 | Dramatic Scenes |  |
JACK TURPIN.
Jack Turpin, I have known you long:
My serving man were you, of yore,
When I was young and you were strong:
But Age is knocking at your door,
My serving man were you, of yore,
When I was young and you were strong:
But Age is knocking at your door,
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And now your shanks are shrunk and thin;
And Time has forced your hands to shake;
(Or can't be—beer relieved by gin,
Which, “for a cold,” you used to take?)
And Time has forced your hands to shake;
(Or can't be—beer relieved by gin,
Which, “for a cold,” you used to take?)
Once you were villein, I the knight:
I paid you with some pence or pounds;
You served me, fairly whilst in sight;
Not well when you were “out of bounds.”
I paid you with some pence or pounds;
You served me, fairly whilst in sight;
Not well when you were “out of bounds.”
Dwarfed, doggèd, boastful, drunken, shrewd,
A mute by day, by night a sot,
How often would you come, imbrued
With drink, and do—you knew not what.
A mute by day, by night a sot,
How often would you come, imbrued
With drink, and do—you knew not what.
You blacked my shoes, you brushed my coat,
When sober, duly every morn;
But oft I heard your quavering note;
And when I lashed you with my scorn,
When sober, duly every morn;
But oft I heard your quavering note;
And when I lashed you with my scorn,
You shrank, resented, blushed with ire,
Would mostly argue, always lied.
Such lies as gin and beer inspire
You uttered with a proper pride.
Would mostly argue, always lied.
Such lies as gin and beer inspire
You uttered with a proper pride.
O bragging knave! Thou hadst a head
Was round, and like a cannon-ball,
And some limp hairs above it spread;
And eyes that pierced one like an awl;
Was round, and like a cannon-ball,
And some limp hairs above it spread;
And eyes that pierced one like an awl;
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So firm, so daring was your look,
So unabashed by all reproof;
I read you, as one reads a book,
For knowledge, and my own behoof.
So unabashed by all reproof;
I read you, as one reads a book,
For knowledge, and my own behoof.
The glittering cunning in those eyes,
The oily, thick, slow, struggling word,
The helpless smile, the frown so wise,
All these I daily saw and heard.
The oily, thick, slow, struggling word,
The helpless smile, the frown so wise,
All these I daily saw and heard.
How the grand funeral filled your head;
How well you wove the weaver's knot;
What projects rose, and failed, and fled;
My work, meanwhile, being all forgot!
How well you wove the weaver's knot;
What projects rose, and failed, and fled;
My work, meanwhile, being all forgot!
Yet, Jack! I would I saw you here:
I think that I should hire you still;
And you at night might have your beer,
And, sometimes, even by day, your will.
I think that I should hire you still;
And you at night might have your beer,
And, sometimes, even by day, your will.
For you were honest; dextrous too,
After a fashion; and I think
I might, in time, prevail on you
To—yes, perhaps—abstain from drink.
After a fashion; and I think
I might, in time, prevail on you
To—yes, perhaps—abstain from drink.
And then, I think some faults were mine;
That I in angry words was free,
Impatient,—loved my cup of wine,
Was idle, obstinate,—like thee.
That I in angry words was free,
Impatient,—loved my cup of wine,
Was idle, obstinate,—like thee.
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So, let's cast up the long account,
And strike the balance. Does it lie
This way? or that?—Come, tell th' amount!
Alas! you know no more than I.
And strike the balance. Does it lie
This way? or that?—Come, tell th' amount!
Alas! you know no more than I.
That double entry, strict and mean,
Jack Turpin, let him keep who can;
I cannot: nor have I ever seen
One fair account 'tween man and man.
Jack Turpin, let him keep who can;
I cannot: nor have I ever seen
One fair account 'tween man and man.
| Dramatic Scenes | |