Historical & Legendary Ballads & Songs By Walter Thornbury. Illustrated by J. Whistler, F. Walker, John Tenniel, J. D. Watson, W. Small, F. Sandys, G. J. Pinwell, T. Morten, M. J. Lawless, and many others |
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My own Miniature.
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 | Historical & Legendary Ballads & Songs |  |
164
My own Miniature.
And was I ever such an elf,
Regardless of ambition, pelf,
Much more the meaner sins,
And all the diplomatic wiles
That earn in life's poor game those smiles
The best finesser wins?
Regardless of ambition, pelf,
Much more the meaner sins,
And all the diplomatic wiles
That earn in life's poor game those smiles
The best finesser wins?
And was I ever pink and white,
Like daisy opening to the light
In budding April-time?
I, whom an unrelenting sun
So long ago burned fiery dun
In hateful Indian clime?
Like daisy opening to the light
In budding April-time?
I, whom an unrelenting sun
So long ago burned fiery dun
In hateful Indian clime?
Surely I never wore a frill
With many a curious pleated quill,
Like paper round a flower!
A little Philip Sidney sure,
A boyish saint so meek and pure,
Heedless of Pride and Power.
With many a curious pleated quill,
Like paper round a flower!
A little Philip Sidney sure,
A boyish saint so meek and pure,
Heedless of Pride and Power.
And had I ever hair to flow
To every breeze that chose to blow?
Behold this ivory ball!
Time's cannoned off it many a day;
I've had my rubs in Life's rough play,
Yet seldom won at all.
To every breeze that chose to blow?
Behold this ivory ball!
Time's cannoned off it many a day;
I've had my rubs in Life's rough play,
Yet seldom won at all.
“Bald as a coot”—such is the phrase
They use in these degenerate days
To mock at reverend age.
Ha! little hair is left, you see,—
Time pats our heads so heavily
Before we're fully sage.
They use in these degenerate days
To mock at reverend age.
Ha! little hair is left, you see,—
Time pats our heads so heavily
Before we're fully sage.
'T was in the days of Wellington
I donned that suit called “Skeleton:”
I see it once again.
Like little Tommy in the book,
I'm reading gallant Captain Cook
Beside the rolling main.
I donned that suit called “Skeleton:”
I see it once again.
Like little Tommy in the book,
I'm reading gallant Captain Cook
Beside the rolling main.
Yes! so the painter drew the child
Who longed to tempt the surges wild
And seek fresh golden lands.
Since then by cruel breakers crossed,
I have been wrecked and tempest-tossed,
And run on countless sands.
Who longed to tempt the surges wild
And seek fresh golden lands.
Since then by cruel breakers crossed,
I have been wrecked and tempest-tossed,
And run on countless sands.
All I've discovered is but that
The world is round and I am flat,
And Hope a coloured bubble;
Love a mere mirage of the heart,
And thinking but a painful art
To magnify Life's trouble:
The world is round and I am flat,
And Hope a coloured bubble;
Love a mere mirage of the heart,
And thinking but a painful art
To magnify Life's trouble:
That men are moths; Ambition fire
That scorches fools who would draw nigher,
Striving to win a name:
I have been singed (I know) myself,
Yet seeking Honour and not Pelf,—
These scars are from the flame!
That scorches fools who would draw nigher,
Striving to win a name:
I have been singed (I know) myself,
Yet seeking Honour and not Pelf,—
These scars are from the flame!
I've learned some secrets—that the True
And Good were stable, though there blew
Care's tiger winds by dozens—
That Work's a remedy for care,
Better than any change of air;
That Want and Sloth are cousins.
And Good were stable, though there blew
Care's tiger winds by dozens—
That Work's a remedy for care,
Better than any change of air;
That Want and Sloth are cousins.
Ha! what a giddy race I've run,
Since shone upon me childhood's sun,
And what a reel unwound!
Who would have thought that rosy face
Would ever fix in such grimace
And be in leather bound?
Since shone upon me childhood's sun,
And what a reel unwound!
Who would have thought that rosy face
Would ever fix in such grimace
And be in leather bound?
No smooth pure ivory my brow;
It's ploughed and trenched and wrinkled now,
And whitened with Grief's dredger.
With many lines drawn on account
To swell the terrible amount
In Time's remorseless ledger.
It's ploughed and trenched and wrinkled now,
And whitened with Grief's dredger.
With many lines drawn on account
To swell the terrible amount
In Time's remorseless ledger.
| Historical & Legendary Ballads & Songs | |