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Full text of "Ballads: romantic, fantastical, and humorous"

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BALLADS 



' * . . 









Itonrctttit, Jmtastical, anb Humorous. 



BY 

WILLIAM HARRISON AINSWORTH. 

J) 



ILLUSTRATED BY JOHN GILBERT. 



LONDON: 
G. ROUTLEDGE & CO., FARRINGDON STREET. 

NEW YOBK: 18, BEEKMAN STBEET. 
1855. 






• • 5 •'*• 2 i 



■ \* • • • . . 



LONDON: 
SAVILL AND EDWARDS, PBINTEES, CHANDOS STREET, 
COVENT GAKDEN. 



CONTENTS. 



^cgmtog sift gtaantit gxUata. 

PAGB 

the custom: OP DUNMOW: showing how it arose . . 3 

THE LEGEND OF THE LIME-TREE 11 

THE LEGEND OF THE LADY OF ROOKWOOD 15 

CHARLES IX. AT MONTFAUCON 20 

YOLANDE 25 

ESCLAIRMONDE 28 

YUSEF AND ZORAYDA 31 

THE LEGEND OF VALDEZ 36 

DITTY OF DU GUESCLIN 40 

TnE SWORD OF BAYARD 43 

THE SCOTTISH CAVALIER 47 

THE BLOOD-RED KNIGHT 49 

nYMN OF THE CONSPIRATORS IN THE GUNPOWDER PLOT , 51 



73857 



VI CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

DIRGE OF BOURBON 53 

ANACREONTIC ODE 55 

MARGUERITE DE VALOIS 57 

THE ADMIRABLE CRICHTON .. 00 

THE THREE ORGIES 63 

ALL-SPICE, OR A SPICE OF ALL 69 

DEATH TO THE HUGUENOT 72 

LA GITANILLA . . 73 

THE TWICE-USED RING 76 

THE SOUL BELL 78 

HYMN TO SAINT THECLA , . . 80 

HYMN TO SAINT CYPRIAN 83 

THE CHURCHYARD YEW . . . ..... ... . . 85 

BLACK BESS . . ... . . . . • 87 

THE OLD OAK COFFIN 92 

Jtotfasfel galtek 

THE SORCERERS' SABBATH . 99 

INCANTATION 109 

THE WONDROUS STONE Ill 

THE CRYSTAL VASE 116 



CONTENTS. Vll 

PAGB 

THE NAMELESS WITCH . . , . < ...... . 117 

THE TEMPTATION OF SAINT ANTHONY ...,;.. 120 

INSCRIPTION ON A GOLDEN KEY . ; 127 

A MIDNIGHT MEETING OF THE LANCASHIRE WITCHES . . 128 

THE MANDRAKE 139 

EPHIALTES \ . . . . 14:3 

THE CQRPSE-CANDLE , .- 146 

THE HAND OF GLORY ....... s 148 

THE CARRION CROW . . » ' 150 

THE HEADSMAN'S AXE 152 

fuiMOTs gallata. 

THE CHRONICLE OF GARGANTUA 157 

MY OLD COMPLAINT: ITS CAUSE AND CURE 162 

JOLLY NOSE 165 

THE WINE-DRINKER'S DECLARATION , 167 

WITH MY BACK TO THE FIRE 169 

THE OLD WATER-DRINKER'S GRAVE 170 

CIDER OF DEVONSHIRE 171 

VENITE POTEMUS 174 

THE SCHOLAR'S LITANY . . . . 176 



Vlll CONTENTS. 

PAGB 

ALE AND SACK 177 

DRUID 179 

the thirty requisites 131 

love's homily 183 

a chapter of highwaymen 185 

the rapparees ,,,.... 189 

A ROMANY CHANT 195 

oliver whiddles 200 

will davies and dick turpin 201 

the pour cautions 203 

the double cross 205 

the modern greek 208 

pledge of the highwayman 212 

the game of high toby 214 

the scampsman 217 

the knight of malta 219 

saint Giles's bowl 227 

the newgate stone 230 

the carpenter's daughter 232 

owen wood 233 

king frog and queen crane 235 



CONTENTS. IX 

PAGE 

MARLBROOK TO THE WARS IS COMING 237 

THE BOOTS OF MARLBROOK 239 

A YEAR AND A DAY 242 

THE BALLAD OF THE BEARD 245 

OLD GRINDROD'S GHOST 248 

THE BARBER OF RIPON AND THE GHOSTLY BASIN . . . 253 

frarolaiiims. 

ELEGY ON THE CARDINAL BORROMEO 259 

CONGRATULATORY ADDRESS TO GASPAR VISCONTI . . . 269 



ILLUSTKATIONS. 



PAGK 



the custom of dunmow To/ace the Title. 

LEGEND OP THE LADY OP ROOKWOOD 15 

THE SWORD OF BAYARD 43 

THE TEMPTATION OF SAINT ANTHONY 120 

MY OLD COMPLAINT 162 

A ROMANY CHANT 195 

WILL DAVIES AND DICK TURPIN 201 

A YEAR AND A DAY 242 



Jtptottjj anb Jomantfc gallak 



THE CUSTOM OF DTJNMOW. 

SHOWING HOW IT AROSE. 

dfatt* % fJcuL 

A Fond Couple make a Vow before the Good Prior of the Convent 
of our Lady of Dunmow, that they have loved each other well 
and truly for a Twelvemonth and a Day ; and crave his 
Blessing. 

I. 
" What seek ye here, my children dear ? 

Why kneel ye down thus lowly 
Upon the stones, beneath the porch 

Of this our Convent holy P " 
The Prior old the pair bespoke 
In faltering speech, and slowly. 
B 2 






4 THE CUSTOM OF DUNMOW. 

II. 

Their modest garb would seem proclaim 

The pair of low degree, 
But though in cloth of frieze arrayed, 

A stately youth was he : 
While she, who knelt down by his side, 

Was beautiful to see. 



in. 
'•'A Twelvemonth and a Day have fled 

Since first we were united ; 
And from that hour," the young man said, 

" No change our hopes has blighted. 
Pond faith with fonder faith we've paid, 

And love with love requited. 



rv. 
True to each other have we been; 
No dearer object seeing, 



THE CUSTOM OF DUNMOW. 

Than each has in the other found ; 

In everytliing agreeing. 
And every look, and word, and deed 

That breed dissension fleeing. 

v. 

"All this we swear, and take in proof 

Our Lady of Dunmow ! 
Tor She, who sits with saints above, 

Well knows that it is so. 
Attest our Vow, thou reverend man, 

And bless us, ere we go ! " 

VI. 

The Prior old stretch' d forth his hands 
" Heaven prosper ye !" quo' he ; 

" O'er such as ye, right gladly we 
Say ■ Benedicite t " 

On this, the kneeling pair uprose — 
Uprose full joyfully. 



THE CUSTOM OF DUNMOW. 



Tlie Good Prior merrily bestoweth a boon upon the Loving Couple . 
and getteth a noble Recompense. 

I. 
Just then, pass'd by the Convent cook — 

And moved the young man's glee ; 
On his broad back a mighty Flitch 

Of Bacon brown bore he. 
So heavy was the load, I wis, 

It scarce mote carried be. 

n. 

"Take ye that Mitch," the Prior cried, 

" Take it, fond pair, and go : 
Fidelity like yours deserves 

The boon I now bestow. 
Go, feast your friends, and think upon 

The Convent of Dunmow." 



THE CUSTOM OF DUN'MOW. 
III. 

" Good Prior," then the youth replied, 

" Thy gift to us is dear, 
Not for its worth, but that it shows 

Thou deem'st our love sincere. 
And in return broad lands I give — 

Broad lands thy Convent near ; 
Which shall to thee and thine produce 

A Thousand Marks a Year ! 

IV. 

"But this Condition I annex, 
Or else the Grant's forsaken : 

That whensoe'er a pair shall come, 
And take the Oath we've taken, 

They shall from thee and thine receive 
A goodly Flitch of Bacon. 

v. 

" And thus from out a simple chaneo 
A usage good shall grow ; 



THE CUSTOM OF DUNilOW. 

And our example of true love 

Be held up evermo' : 
While all who win the prize shall bless 

The Custom of Dunmow." 



VI. 

"Who art thou, son?" the Prior cried; 

His tones with wonder falter — 
" Thou shouldst not jest with reverend men, 

Nor with their feelings palter." 
" I jest not, Prior, for know in me 

Sir Reginald Pitzwalter. 



VII. 

" I now throw off my humble garb, 
As I what I am, confest ; 

The wealthiest I of wealthy men, 
Since with this treasure blest." 

And as he spoke, Fitzwalter clasp'd 
His lady to his breast. 



THE CUSTOM OF DUNMOW. 

vm. 
" In peasant guise my love I won, 

Nor knew she whom she wedded ; 
In peasant cot our truth we tried, 

And no disunion dreaded. 
Twelve months' assurance proves our faith 

On firmest base is steadied." 

IX. 

Joy reign'd within those Convent walls 

When the glad news was known; 
Joy reign'd within Fitzwalter's halls 

When there his bride was shown. 
No lady in the land such sweet 

Simplicity could own ; 
A natural grace had she, that all 

Art's graces far outshone : 
Beauty and worth for want of birth 

Abundantly atone. 



10 THE CUSTOM OP DUNMOW. 

Hence the Custom. 

What need of more ? That Loving Pair 

Lived long and truly so ; 
Nor ever disunited were ;— 

For one death laid them low ! 
And hence arose that Custom old — 

The Custom of Dunmow. 



11 



THE LEGEND OF THE LIME TREE. 



Amid the grove o'er-arched above with lime-trees old and tall 
(The avenue that leads unto the Rookwood's ancient hall), 
High o'er the rest its towering crest one tree rears to the sky, 
And wide out-flings, like mighty wings, its arms umbrageously. 

Seven yards its base would scarce embrace — a goodly tree 1 
ween, 

With silver bark, and foliage dark of melancholy green ; 

And 'mid its boughs two ravens house, and build from year 
to year, 

Their black brood hatch — their black brood watch — then scream- 
ing disappear. 



12 THE LEGEND OF THE LIME-TREE. 

In that old tree when playfully the summer breezes sigh, 

Its leaves are stirred, and there is heard a low and plaintive cry; 

And when in shrieks the storm blast speaks its reverend boughs 

among, 
Sad wailing moans, like human groans, the concert harsh prolong. 

But whether gale or calm prevail, or threatening cloud hath fled, 
By hand of Tate, predestinate, a limb that tree will shed : 
A verdant bough, untouched, I trow, by axe or tempest's breath, 
To Rookwood's head an omen dread of fast-approaching death. 

Some think that tree instinct must be with preternatural power, 
Like 'larum bell Death's note to knell at Fate's appointed hour ; 
While some avow that on its bough are fearful traces seen, 
Red as the stains from human veins commingling with the green. 

Others, again, there are maintain that on the shattered bark 
A print is made, where fiends have laid their scathing talons 

dark: 
That, ere it falls, the raven calls thrice from that wizard bough ; 
And that each cry doth signify what space the Fates allow. 



THE LEGEND OF THE LIME-TREE. 13 

In olden days, the Legend says, as grim Sir Ranulph view'd 
A wretched hag her footsteps drag beneath his lordly wood, 
His blood-hounds twain he called amain, and straightway gave 

her chase : 
Was never seen in forest green, so fierce, so fleet a race ! 

With eyes of flame to Ranulph came each red and ruthless 

hound, 
While mangled, torn — a sight forlorn! — the hag lay on the 

ground. 
E'en where she lay was turned the clay, and limb and reeking 

bone 
Within the earth, with ribald mirth, by Ranulph grim were 

thrown. 

And while as yet the soil was wet with that poor witch's gore, 
A lime-tree stake did Ranulph take, and pierced her bosom's 

core. 
And, strange to tell, what next befel ! — that branch at once took 

root, 
And richly fed, within its bed, strong suckers forth did shoot. 



14 THE LEGEND OP THE LIME-TREE. 

From year to year fresh boughs appear — it waxes huge in size; 
And, with wild glee, this prodigy Sir Ranulph grim espies. 
One day, when he, beneath that tree, reclined in health and pride, 
A. branch was found upon the ground — the next, Sir Ranulph 
died! 

And from that hour a fatal power has ruled that Wizard Tree, 
To Ranulph' s line a warning sign of doom and destiny : 
For when a bough is found, I trow, beneath its shade to lie, 
Ere suns shall rise thrice in the skies a Rookwood sure shall 
die! 



• • » 



. » . • ' » • 




I.KGRND OF tHF L4DT OF HOOKWOOD. 



15 



THE 



LEGEND OF THE LADY OF ROOKWOOD. 



Grim Ranulph home hath at midnight come, from the long wars 

of the Roses, 
And the squire who waits at his ancient gates, a secret dark 

discloses ; % 

To that varlet's words no response accords his lord, but his 

aspect stern 
Grows ghastly white in the wan moonlight, and his eyes like the 

gaunt wolfs burn. 

To his lady's bower, at that lonesome hour, unannounced is Sir 

Ranulph gone ; 
Through the dim corridor, through the hidden door, he glides — 

she is all alone ! 



16 THE LEGEND OP THE LADY OP KOOKWOOD. 

Full of holy zeal doth his young dame kneel at the meek 

Madonna's feet, 
Her hands are pressed on her gentle breast, and upturned is her 

visage sweet. 

Beats Ranulph's heart with a joyful start, as he looks on her 

guiltless face j 
And the raging fire of his jealous ire is subdued by the words of 

grace ; 
His own name shares her murmured prayers — more freely can 

he breathe ; 
But ah ! that look ! Why doth he pluck his poniard from its 

sheath ? 



On a footstool thrown lies a costly gown of saye and of minevere, 

(A mantle fair for the dainty wear of a migniard cavalier), 

And on it flung, to a bracelet hung, a picture meets his 

eye;— 
" By my father's head," grim Ranulph said, " false wife, thy 

end draws nigh." 



THE LEGEND OF TIIE LADY OF ROOKWOOD. 17 

"From off its chain hath the fierce knight ta'en that fond and 

fatal pledge ; 
His dark eyes blaze, no word he says, thrice gleams his dagger's 

edge! 
Her blood it drinks, and, as she sinks, his victim hears his cry, 
" For kiss impure of paramour, adult'ress, dost thou die !" 



Silent he stood, with hands embrued in gore, and glance of flame, 
As thus her plaint, in accents faint, made his ill-fated dame : 
" Kind Heaven can tell, that all too well, I've loved thee, cruel 

lord; 
But now with hate commensurate, assassin, thou'rt abhorred. 

" I've loved thee long, through doubt and wrong; I've loved 

thee, and no other ; 
And my love was pure, for my paramour, as thou call'st him, 

was my brother ! 
The Red, Red Rose, on thy banner glows, on his pennon gleams 

the White, 
And the bitter feud, that ye both have rued, forbids ye to unite. 

c 



18 THE LEGEND OF THE LADY OF ROOKWOOD. 

"My bower he sought, what time he thought thy jealous vassals 

slept ; 
Of joy we dreamed, and never deemed that watch those vassals 

kept; 
An hour flew by, too speedily ! — that picture was his boon : 
Ah ! little thrift to me that gift : he left me all too soon ! 

" Wo worth the hour ! dark fates did lower, when our hands 
were first united ! 

Fell lord, my truth, 'mid tears and ruth, with death hast thou 
requited : 

In prayer sincere, full many a year of my wretched life I've 
spent ; 

But to hell's control would I give my soul, to work thy chastise- 
ment !" 

These wild words said, low drooped her head, and Ranulph's 

life-blood froze, 
Tor the earth did gape, as an awful shape from out its depths 

arose : 



THE LEGEND OF THE LADY OF ROOKWOOD. 19 

" Thy prayer is heard, Hell hath concurred," cried the Fiend, 

" thy soul is mine ! 
Like fate may dread each dame shall wed with Ranulph or his 

line r 



Within the tomb to await her doom is that hapless lady sleeping, 
And another bride by Eanulph's side through the livelong night 

is weeping. 
This dame declines — a third repines, and fades, like the rest, 

away: 
Her lot she rues, whom a Rookwood woos — cursed is her Wedding 

Day! 



c 2 



2Q 



CHARLES IX. AT MONTFAUCON. 



i. 

" To horse — to horse !" thus spake King Charles, " to horse, my 

lords, with me, 
Unto Montfaucon will we ride — a sight you there shall see." 
"Montfaucon, sire!" said his esquire — "what sight, my liege? 

how mean ye?" 
" The carcase stark of the traitor dark, and heretic Coligni." 

n. 

The trumpets bray, their chargers neigh a loud and glad reVeille*— 
And plaudits ring, as the haughty king from the Louvre issues 

gaily; 

On his right hand rides his mother, with her dames — a gorgeous 

train — 
On his left careers his brother, with the proud Duke of Lorraine. 



CHARLES IX. AT MONTFAUCON. 21 

nr. 

Behind is seen his youthful Queen— the meek Elizabeth 1 — 
With her damsels bright, whose talk is light of the sad, sad show 

of death : — 
Ah, lovely ones !— ah, gentle ones ! from the scoffer's judgment 

screen ye ! — 
Mock not the dust of the martyr'd just, for of such was good 

Coligni. 



By foot uphung, to flesh-hook strung, is now revealed to all, 
Mouldering and shrunk, the headless trunk of the brave old 
admiral; 



1 Elizabeth of Austria, daughter of the Emperor Maximilian, an 
amiable and excellent prineess, whose genuine piety presented a striking 
contrast to the sanguinary fanaticism of her tyrannical and neglectful 
spouse. " O mon Dieu !" she cried, on the day of the massacre, of which 
she had been kept in ignorance ; " quels conseillers sont ceux-la, qui ont 
donne" le roi tel avis ? Mon Dieu ! je to supplie, et je requiers de lui par- 
donner, car si tu n'en as pitie, j'ai grand peur que cette offense ne lui soit 
pas pardonnee." 



22 CHARLES IX. AT MONTFAUCON. 

Gash-visaged Guise the sight doth please — fierce Lord, was 

naught between ye P 
In felon blow of base Poltrot 1 no share had brave Coligni. 

v. 

"Now, by God's death!" the monarch saith, with inauspicious 

smile, 
As, laughing, group the reckless troop round grey Montfaucon's 

pile ; 
"Prom off that hook its founder shook — Enguerrand de Marigni 2 — 
But gibbet chain did ne'er sustain such burthen as Coligni." 



1 Jean Poltrot de Mere, the assassin of Francois de Guise, father of the 
Balafre, probably in order to screen himself, accused Coligni and Beza of 
being the instigators of his offence. Poltrot's flesh was afterwards torn from 
his bones by red-hot pincers, but Henri of Lorraine never considered his 
father's death fully avenged until the massacre of the Admiral. Coligni's 
head was sent by Catherine de Medicis to Eome as an offering to Gregory 
XIII. Upon this occasion the Pope had a medal struck off, stamped 
with an exterminating angel, and subscribed — " Ugonotorum Strages." 

2 Pereat sua, arte Perillus. Enguerrand de Marigni, grand chamberlain 
of France during the reign of Philippe-le-Bel, constructed the famous 
gibbet of Montfaucon, and was himself among the first to glut its horrible 
fourches patibulaires, whence originated the ancient adage — " Plus mal- 
heureux que le bois dont on fait le gibet." 



CIIARLES IX. AT MONTFAUCON. 23 

VI. 

"Back! back! my liege," exclaimed a page, "with death the 

air is tainted, 
The sun grows hot, and see you not, good sire, the queen has 

fainted?" 
" Let those retire," quoth Charles, in ire, " who think they stand 

too nigh ; 
To us no scent yields such content as a dead enemy." 1 

VII. 

As thus he spake, the king did quake — he heard a dismal moan — 
A. wounded wretch had crept to stretch his bones beneath that 

stone : — 
" Of dying man," groaned he, " the ban, the Lord's anointed 
dread, 
< My curse shall cling to thee, king ! — much righteous blood 
^ thou'st shed." 

1 Ensuite Coligni fut traine* aux fourches patibulaires de Montfaucon. 
Le Eoi vint jouir de ce spectacle, et s'en montra insatiable. On ne con- 
oevait pas qu'il put resister a une telle odeur; on le pressait de se retirer. 
& Non, dit-il, le cadavre d'un ennemi sent toujours bon! — Laceatelle. 



24 CHARLES IX. AT MONTFAUCON. 

VIII. 

"Now by Christ's blood! by holy Rood!" cried Charles, 

impatiently ; 
" With sword and pike — strike, liegemen, strike ! — God's death ! 

this man shall die." 
Straight halbert clash'd, and matchlock flash' d — but ere a shot 

was fired, 
With langh of scorn that wight forlorn had suddenly expired. 

rx. 
From the Louvre gate, with heart elate, King Charles that morn 

did ride ; 
With aspect dern did he return; quench' d was his glance of pride : 
Remorse and ruth, with serpent tooth, thenceforth seized on his 

breast — 
With bloody tide his couch was dyed — pale visions broke his rest I 1 

< 1 La maladie de Charles IX. 6tait accompagnee de symptomes plus 
yiolens qu'on n'en remarque dans les maladies de langueur ; sa poitrine 
etait particulierement affectee; mais son sang coulait par tous les pores; 
d'affreux souvenirs persecutaient sa pens^e dans un lit toujours baigne de 
sang ; il voulait et ne pouvait pas s'arracher de cette place. — Laceatelle, 
" Histoire de France pendant les Guerres de Eeligion." 



25 



YOLANDE. 1 



i. 
A golden flower embroidering, 
A lay of love low murmuring ; 
Secluded in the eastern tower 
Sits fair Yolande within her bower : 

Fair — fair Yolande ! 
Suddenly a voice austere, 
With sharp reproof breaks on her ear — 
Her mother 'tis who silently 
Has stolen upon her privacy — 

Ah ! fair Yolande ! 

1 A very free adaptation of a sparkling little romance by Audefroy le 
Batard, to be found in the Eomancero Francois, entitled Bele Yolans. 
Much liberty has been taken with the concluding stanza— indeed, the 
song altogether bears but slight resemblance to its original. 



26 



YOLANDE. 

" Mother ! why that angry look ? 
Mother ! why that sharp rebuke ? 
Is it that I while away 
My solitude with amorous lay P 
Or is it that my thread of gold 
Idly I weave, that thus you scold 
Your own Yolande — Your own Yolande !" 

ii. 

" It is not that you while away 
Your solitude with amorous lay, 
It is not that your thread of gold 
Idly you weave, that thus I scold 

My fair Yolande ! 
Your want of caution 'tis I chide : — 
The Baron fancies that you hide 
Beneath the cushion on your knee 
A letter from the Count Mahi : — 

Ah ! fair Yolande ! 
Busy tongues have fill'd his brain 
With jealousy and frantic pain; 
Hither hastes he with his train ! 



YOLANDE. 27 

And if a letter there should be 
Conceal' d 'neath your embroidery, 
Say no more. But give it me, 

My own Yolande — My own Yolande !" 



ESCLAIEMONDE. 



[Henri Trois sings at a Court Bevel.'] 
L 

The crown is proud 

That decks our brow ; 
The laugh is loud — 

That glads us now. 
The sounds that fall 

Around — above 
Are laden all 

With love — with love — 

With love — with love. 

ii. 
Heaven cannot show, 

'Mid all its sheen, 
Orbs of such glow, 

As here are seen. 



ESCLAIRMONDE. 29 

And monarch ne'er 

Exulting own'd, 
Queen might compare 

With Esclairmonde — 

With Esclairmonde. 

in. 

Erom Bacchus' fount 

Deep draughts we drain ; 
Their spirits mount, 

And fire our brain ; 
But in our heart 

Of hearts enthroned, 
From all apart 

Rests Esclairmonde — 

Bests Esclairmonde. 

[Chicot replies.'] 
IV. 

The crown is proud — 
But brings it peace ? 



30 ESCLAIRMONDE. 



* The laugh is loud — 
Full soon 'twill cease. 
The sounds that fall 

From lightest breath, 
Are laden all 
With death — with death. 

With death— with death. 



31 






YUSEF AND ZORAYDA. 



i. 

Through the Vega of Granada, where the silver Darro glides — 
From his tower within the Alpuxar — swift — swift Prince Yusef 

rides. 
To her who holds his heart in thrall — a captive Christian maid — 
On wings of fear and doubt he flies, of sore mischance afraid. 
For ah ! full well doth Yusef know with what relentless ire, 
His love for one of adverse faith is noted by his sire : 
" Zorayda mine!" he cries aloud— -on — on — his courser strains— 
" Zorayda mine ! — thine Yusef comes !" — the Alhambra walls he 

gains. 

1 The incidents of this hallad are, with some slight variation, derived 
from those of the exquisite French romance, "Flore et Blancheflor," the 
date of which may be referred to the Thirteenth Century, and which 
unquestionably, as its recent editor, M. Paulin Paris, supposes, is of 
Spanish or Moorish origin. 



32 YUSEF AND ZORAYDA. 

II. 

Through the marble court of Lious — through the stately 

Tocador — 
To Lindaraxa's bowers he goes — the Queen he stands before ; 
Her maidens round his mother group — but not a word she 

speaks. 
In vain amid that lovely throng, one lovelier form he seeks ; 
In vain he tries 'mid orient eyes, orbs darker far to meet ; 
No form so light, no eyes so bright, as hers his vision greet. 
" Zorayda mine — Zorayda mine ! ah whither art thou fled ?" 
A low, low wail returns his cry — a wail as for the dead. 

in. 
No answer made his mother, but her hand gave to her son — 
To the garden of the Generalif together are they gone ; 
Where gushing fountains cool the air — where scents the citron 

pale, 
Where nightingales in concert fond rehearse their love-lorn tale, 
Where roses link'd with myrtles make green woof against the 

sky, 
Half hidden by their verdant screen a sepulchre doth lie ; 






YUSEP AXD ZORAYDA. 33 

" Zorayda mine — Zorayda mine ! — ah ! wherefore art thou 

flown, 
To gather flowers in Yemen's bowers while I am left alone !" 

rv. 

Upon the ground kneels Yusef — his heart is like to break ; 
In vain the Queen would comfort him — no comfort will he take, 
His blinded gaze he turns upon that sculptured marble fair, 
Embossed with gems, and glistening with coloured pebbles rare; 
Red stones of Ind — black, vermeil, green, their mingled hues 

combine, 
With jacinth, sapphire, amethyst, and diamond of the mine. 
" Zorayda mine — Zorayda mine !" — thus ran sad Yusef s cry, 
" Zorayda mine, within this tomb, ah ! sweet one ! dost thou 

He?" 

v. 
Upon that costly sepulchre, two radiant forms are seen; 
In sparkling alabaster carved like crystal in its sheen ; 
The one as Yusef fashioned, a golden crescent bears, 
The other, as Zorayda wrought, a silver crosslet wears, 

D 



34 YUSEF AND ZORAYDA. 

And ever, as soft zephyr sighs, the pair his breath obey, 
And meet within each other's arms like infants in their play. 1 
" Zorayda fair — Zorayda fair" — thus golden letters tell 
A Christian maid lies buried here — by Moslem loved too well. 

VI. 

Three times those golden letters with grief sad Yusef re^ds, 
To tears and frantic agony a fearful calm succeeds — 
"Ah ! woe is me ; Zorayda mine — ah ! would the self-same blow 
That laid thee 'neath this mocking tomb, had laid thy lover low j 
Two faithful hearts, like ours in vain stern death may strive to 

sever — 
A moment more the pang is o'er, the grave unites us ever. 

1 This circumstance is thus depicted in the French romance : — 
En la tombe et quartre tuiaus 
Aus quartre cors bien fait et biaus. 
Es quiex li quartre vent feroient 
Chascuns, ainsi com'il ventoient. 
Quant li vens los enfans tochoit, 
/ L'un beisoit 1' autre et accoloit ; 
Si disoient, par nigromance 
De tout lor bon, de lor enfance. 

ElOBS ET BLAKCHSrLOE. 



YUSEF AND ZORAYDA. 3.5 

Zorayda mine — Zorayda mine — this dagger sets me free — 
Zorayda mine— look down — look down — thus — thus I come to 
thee V 

VII. 

"Hold! Yusef, hold!" a voice exclaims, "thy loved Zorayda 

lives — 
Thy constancy is well approved — thy sire his son forgives ; 
Thine ardent passion doubting long — thy truth I thus have tried, 
Behold her whom thy faith hath won — receive her as thy bride !" 
In Yusefs arms — to Yusef s heart, Zorayda close is press'd, 
Half stifled by a flood of joy, these words escape his breast :— 
" Zorayda mine — Zorayda mine ! — ah ! doubly dear thou art ; 
Uninterrupted bliss be ours, whom death has failed to part !" 



d 2 



30 



THE LEGEND OF YALDEZ. 



5 Tis night ! — forth Valdez, in disguise, 

Hies; 
And his visage, as he glides, 

Hides. 
Goes he to yon church to pray ? 

Eh! 
No ! that fane a secret path 

Hath, 
Leading to a neighbouring pile's 

Aisles ! 

1 Founded on a story in the " Hexameron" of Antonio do Torquemada, 
referred to in the amusing extravagancies of Monsieur Oufle. Subse- 
quently to the publication of this lyric, the legend in question has been 
delightfully narrated by Washington Irving, in his "Spectral Researcher 
m the Convent of San Francisco, at Seville, 1855." 



TIIE LEGEND OF VALDEZ. 37 

"Where nuns lurk — by priests cajoled 

Old. 
Thither doth Don Valdez go — 

Oh! 
Thither vestals lips to taste 

Haste. 



II. 
'Neath yon arch, why doth he stand ? 

And 
Haps it that he lingers now 

How? 
Suddenly cowl'd priests appear 

Here. 
Voices chant a dirge-like dim 

Hymn: 
Mutes a sable coffin drear 

Rear; 
Where a monument doth lie 

High. . 



3& xiiE LEGEND OF VALDEZ. 

'Scutcheons proud Death's dark parade 

Aid. 
Valdez sees, with fresh alarms, 

Arms, 
Which his own — (gules cross and star !) 
Are. 



in. 
An hour — and yet he hath not gone 

On! 
Neither can he strength to speak 

Eke. 

" Hark ! " he cries, in fear and doubt, 
Out, 

" Whom inter ye in that tomb ? 

Whom P— " 
" Valdez ! — He'll be, ere twelve hours, 

Ours ! — 
Wait we for his funeral 

All !" 



THE LEGEND OF VALDEZ. 39 

IV. 

" Monk ! thou bring'st, if this be truth, 

Ruth !" 
Valdez his own fate with dread 

Read. 
Question none he uttered more ; — 

O'er 
'Twas ; and he doth peacefully 

Lie 
In the tomb he saw, thus crazed, 

Raised. 

Memento Mori. Life's a stale 
Tale. 



40 



DITTY OF DU GTJESCLIK 1 



i. 
A silver shield squire did wield, charged with an eagle black, 
With talon red, and two-fold head, who followed on the track 
Of the best knight that e'er in fight hurled mace, or couched the 

lance, 
Du Guesclin named, who truncheon claimed as Constable of 

Trance. 



1 A free version of an " olde gentil" Breton lay of the age of Charles V. 
of France : a stanza is subjoined, that the reader may have a taste of it. 
The ballad, it may be observed, has remained wholly inedited, until the 
publication, by M. Crapelet, of the golden manuscript of the Combat 
des Trente, extracted from the Bibliotheque du Boi. 

LE DISTIC DE MONS. BERTBAN DE GLASGUIN. 
Lescu dargent a . I . egle de sable 
A . ii. testes et . I . roge baston 
Bourtoist li preux le valiant connestab!e 
Qui de Glasguin Bertran auoist a nom 



DITTY OF DU GUESCLIN. 41 

II. 

In Brittany, where Rennes * doth lie, Du Gaesclin first drew 

breath j 
Born for emprise — in counsel wise, brave, loyal unto death. 
With hand and sword, with heart and word, served well tliis 

baron bold 
The azure scutcheon that displayed three fleur-de-lis of gold. 2 

in. 
Like Guesclin bold of warriors old in prowess there was 

none, 
'Mid peers that stood 'round Arthur good, Baldwin or brave 

Bouillon : 
Nor, as I ween, hath knighthood seen a chief more puissantly 
"With staff advance the flower of France 'gainst hostile chivalry. 



A bron fu nes le chevalier Breton 
Preux et hardi eourageux come . I . tor 
Qui tant serui de louial cuer et de bon 
Lcscu dazur a . iii . flours de lis dor. 

1 The Chateau de la Motte-Broon, near Eennes. 

2 The royal arms of France. 



42 DITTY OF DU GUESCLIN". 

rv. 

Guesclin is dead ! and with him fled the bravest and the best, 

That ever yet, by foe beset, maintained fair Gallia's crest ! 

His soul God shrive! — were he alive, his spear were couched 

again 
To guard the three gold lilies from the white cross of Lorrain l" 1 

1 The cognizance of the house of Guise. The douhle Cross of Lorrain 
was adopted as an ensign by the Leaguers, of whom the Duke of Guise 
was the prime mover : a circumstance which gave rise to the following 
sarcastic and somewhat irreverent quatrain, quite in the spirit of the 
times : — 

Mais, dites moi, que signifie 

Que les Ligueurs ont double croix ? — 

C'est qu'en la Ligue on crucifie 

J6sus Christ encore une iois. 




^ 






; 7. fTCRI) 07 PAVARP. 



43 



THE SWORD OF BAYAHD. 



X. 

" A boon I crave, my Bayard brave :" — 'twas thus King Francis 

spoke ; 
"The field is won, the battle done, 1 yet deal one other 

stroke. 
Tor by this light, to dub us knight, none worthy is as 

thou, 
"Whom nor reproach nor fear approach, of prince or peer wc 

trow." 



1 The famous engagement with the Swiss, near Milan, in which Francis 
the First came off victorious. Fleuranges places the ceremony of the 
king's knighthood before the battle. The "Loyal Servant," however, 
states that it occurred, as is most probable, after the conflict 



44 TIIE SWORD OF BAYARD. 

II. 

"Sire!" said the knight, "you judge not right, who owns a 

kingdom fair, 
'Neath his command all knights do otand — no service can he share." 
"Nay! by our fay!" the king did say, " lo ! at thy feet we kneel, 
Let silken rules sway tiltyard schools, our laws are here of steel." 

in. 
With gracious mien did Bayard then his sword draw from his 

side; 
" By God ! St. Michael ! and St. George ! I dub thee knight !" 

he cried. 
" Arise, good king ! weal may this bring — such grace on thee 

confer, 
As erst from blow of Charles did flow, Roland or Oliver ! " 

IV. 

With belted blade, the king arrayed — the knight the spur applied, 
And then his neck with chain did deck — and accolade supplied — 
" Do thy devoir at ghostly choir — maintain high courtesie, 
And from the fray in war's array, God grant thou never flee !" 



THE SWORD OF BAYARD. 45 

V. 

" Certes, good blade," x then Bayard said, his own sword waving 

high, 
" Thon shalt, perdie, as relic be preserved full carefully ! 
Right fortunate art thou, good sword, a king so brave to knight! 
And with strong love, all arms above, rest honoured in my sight. 

VI. 

And never more, as heretofore, by Christian chivalry, 

My trenchant blade shalt thou be rayed, or e'er endangered be ! 

For Paynim foes reserve thy blows — the Saracen and Moor 

Thine edge shall smite in bitter fight, or merciless estour ! " 2 

f 

VII. 

Years, since that day, have rolled away, and Bayard hurt to 

death, 
'Neath grey Rebecco's walls outstretched, exhales his latest 

breath. 

1 " Tu es bien heureuse d'avoir aujourd'hui, a un si beau et si puissant 
roi, donne* l'ordre de chevalerie. Certes, ma bonne £pee, vous sercz eomme 
reliques gard£e, et sur tout autre nonore" !"— Precis de la Chevalerie. 
Estour — a grand melee. 



4G THE SWORD OP BAYARD. 

On Heaven he cried, or ere he died — but cross had none. I wist, 
Save that good sword-hilt cruciform, which with pale lips he 
kissed. 1 

VIII. 

Knight 1 whom reproach could ne'er approach, no name like unto 

thine, 
With honour bright, unsullied, white, on Fame's proud scroll 

shall shine ! 
But were it not to mortal lot denied by grace divine, 
Should Bayard's breath, and Bayard's death, and his good sword 

be mine. 

1 " This sword lias been lost. Charles Emanuel, Duke of Savoy, re- 
quested it of Bayard's heirs. One of them, Charles du Motet, Lord of 
Chichiliane, sent him, in default of it, the battle-axe of which Bayard 
made use. The Duke told the Dauphinese gentleman, when he wrote to 
thank him for the present, ' That in the midst of the pleasure he felt at 
beholding this weapon placed in the worthiest part of his gallery, he could 
scarce choose but regret that it was not in such good hands as of its 
original owner.' " — Chahpiee. See also the account of Bayard's death 
in the " Chronicle of the Loyal Servant." 



47 



THE SCOTTISH CAVALIER. 



i. 

From Scotia's clime to laughing France 

The peerless Crichton came ; 
Like him no knight could shiver lance, 

Wield sword, or worship dame. 
Alas ! each maiden sighs in vain, 

He turns a careless ear : 
For queenly fetters fast enchain 

The Scottish cavalier ! 

II. 

But not o'er camp and court, alone, 

Resistless Crichton rules ; 
Logicians next, defeated, own 

His empire o'er the Schools. 



d-8 THE SCOTTISH CAVALIER. 

'Gainst sophists shrewd shall wit prevail, 
Though tome on tome they rear; 

And pedants pale, as victor, hail 
The Scottish cavalier ! 



40 



THE BLOOD-RED KNIGHT. 



Slowly unto the listed field I rode, 
Rouge was my charger's wide caparison; 

And the same hue that on his housing glowed, 
Dyed, as with blood, my lance and morion. 



II. 

Rouge was my couvrechief, that swept the sward, 
Rouge the tall plume that nodded on my crest; 

And the rich scarf — my loyalty's reward — 
Blushed, like a timorous virgin, on my breast. 
£ 



50 THE BLOOD-RED KNIGHT. 



III. 



My broad ensanguined shield bore this device, 
In golden letters writ, that all might see 

How for bold deeds will lightest worth suffice ; 
And thus it ran : " Les plus rouges y sont pris." 



51 



HYMN OF THE CONSPIRATORS IN THE 
GUNPOWDER PLOT. 



The heretic and heathen, Lord, 
Consume with fire, cut down with sword ; 
The spoilers from thy temples thrust, 
Their altars trample in the dust. 



II. 

False princes and false priests lay low, 
Their habitations fill with woe. 
Scatter them, Lord, with sword and flame, 
And bring them utterly to shame. 
£ 2 



52 HYMN OF THE CONSPIRATORS. 



m. 



Thy vengeful arm no longer stay, 
Arise ! Lord, arise ! and slay. 
So shall thy fallen worship be 
Restored to its prosperity ! 



53 



DIRGE OF BOURBON. 



When the good Count of Nassau 

Saw Bourbon lie dead, 
" By. Saint Barbe and St. Nicholas ! 

Forward !" he said. 



II. 

" Mutter never prayer o'er him, 

For litter ne'er halt ; 
But sound loud the trumpet — 

Sound, sound to assault ! 



54 DIRGE OF BOURBON. 

III. 

" Bring engine— bring ladder, 
Yon old walls to scale ; 

All Home, by Saint Peter ! 
For Bourbon shall wail." 



55 



ANACREONTIC ODE. 1 



i. 

When Bacchus' gift assails my brain, 
Care flies, and all her gloomy train ; 
My pulses throb, my youth returns, 
With its old fire my bosom burns ; 
Before my kindling vision rise 
A thousand glorious phantasies ! 
Sudden my empty coffers swell 
With riches inconsumable ; 
And mightier treasures 'round me spring 
Than Croesus owned, or Phrygia's king. 

• Paraplirased from Bonsard's Ode — "Lorsque Bacchus entre chea 
jaoi," Sue. 



50 ANACREONTIC ODE. 

II. 

Nought seek I in that frenzied hour, 
Save love's intoxicating power ; 
An arm to guide me in the dance, 
An eye to thrill me with its glance, 
A lip impassioned words to breathe, 
A hand my temples to en wreathe : 
Rank, honour, wealth, and worldly weal, 
Scornful, I crush beneath my heel. 

in. 

Then fill the chalice till it shine 

Bright as a gem incarnadine ! 

Fill ! till its fumes have freed me wholly 

From the black phantom — Melancholy ! 

Better inebriate 'tis to lie, 

And dying live, than living die ! 



67 



MARGUERITE DE VALOIS. 1 



i. 

Marguerite, with early wiles- 
Marguerite 

On light Charins and D'Antragues smiles — 2 
Margot, Marguerite. 

Older grown, she favours then, 

Smooth Martigues, 3 and bluff Turenne. 
The latter but a foolish pas, 
Margot, Marguerite en bas. 4 

1 A catalogue of Marguerite's various amourettes will be found in the 
■ Divorce Satirique," published under the auspices of her consort, 
Henri IV. More than half, however, are, most probably, scandal. 

a Marguerite was then of the tender age of eleven. 

3 Colonel-General of the French infantry. Branteme has written his 
6\oge. 

4 This refrain is attributed to the Duchess de Guise. 



58 MARGUERITE DE VALOIS. 

But no more these galliards please, 

Marguerite. 
Softly sues the gallant Guise, 

Margot, Marguerite. 
Guise succeeds, like God of war, 
Valiant Henri of Navarre ; 

Better stop, than further go, 

Margot, Marguerite en haul. 

II. 

Loudly next bewails La Mole, 1 

Marguerite, 
On the block his head must roll, 

Margot, Marguerite. 
Soon consoles herself again, 
With Brantome, Bussi, 2 and Mayenne, 3 

Boon companion gros et gras, 

Margot, Marguerite en bas. 

1 The Sieur La Mole, surnamed "Le Baladin de la Cour," beheaded by 
Charles IX., it is said, from jealousy, — Mollis vita, Mollior interitus. 

2 Bussi D'Amboise. — Formosae Veneris furiosi Martis alumnus. 

3 The Due de Mayenne, brother to the Due de Guise. 



MARGUERITE DE VALOIS. 59 

Who shall next your shrine adore, 

Marguerite ? 
You have but one lover more, 

Margot, Marguerite ! 
Crichton comes — the preux, the wise, 
You may well your conquest prize ; 

Beyond him you cannot go, 

Margot, Marguerite en haut. 



CO 



THE ADMIRABLE CRICHTON. 



A song I'll write on 
Matchless Crichton ; 
In wit a bright one, 
Form, a slight one, 



Love, a light one ! 



"Who talketh Greek with us 
Like great Busbequius ; 
Knoweth the Cabala 
Well as Mirandola ; 
Tate can reveal to us, 
Like wise Cornelius ; 
Reasoneth like Socrates, 
Or old Zenocrates : 



THE ADMIRABLE CRICHTON. 61 

Whose system ethical, 
Sound, dialectical, 
Aristotelian, 
Pantagruelian, 
Like to chameleon, 
Choppeth and changeth, 
Everywhere rangeth ! 
Who rides like Centaur, 
Preaches like Mentor, 
Drinks like Lyseus, 
Sings like Tyrtseus, 
Reads like Budseus, 
Vaulteth like Tuccaro, 
Painteth like Zucchero, 
Diceth like Spaniard, 
Danceth like galliard, 
Tilts like Orlando, 
Does all man can do ! 
" Qui pupas nobilcs 
Innumerabiles, 
Amat amabiles j 



62 THE ADMIRABLE CRICHTON. 

Atque Ueginam 
Navarrse divinam!" 
Whose rare prosperity, 
Grace and dexterity, 
Courage, temerity, 
Shall, for a verity, 
Puzzle posterity. 



63 



THE THREE ORGIES. 



In banquet hall, beside the king, 
Sat proud Thyestes revelling. 
The festal board was covered fair, 
The festal meats were rich and rare ; 
Thyestes ate full daintily, 
Thyestes laughed full lustily; 
But soon his haughty visage fell — 
A dish was brought — and, wo to tell ! 
A gory head that charger bore ! 
An infant's look the features wore ! 
Thyestes shrieked — King Atreus smiled — 
The father had devoured his child ! 



64 THE THREE ORGIES. 

Fill the goblet— fill it high— 

To Thyestes' revelry. 

Of blood-red wines the brightest choose, 

The glorious grape of Syracuse ! 



II. 

Tor a victory obtained 

O'er the savage Getse chained, 

In his grand Csesarean hall 

Domitian holds high festival. 

To a solemn feast besought 

Thither are the senate brought. 

As he joins the stately crowd, 

Smiles each pleased patrician proud, 

One by one each guest is led 

Where Domitian' s feast is spread ; 

Each recoiling stares aghast 

At the ominous repast ; 

Hound marble slab of blackest shade 

Black triclinia are laid, 



THE THREE ORGIES. 65 

Sable vases deck the board 
With dark-coloured viands stored ; 
Shaped like tombs, on either hand, 
Rows of dusky pillars stand; 
O'er each pillar in a line, 
Pale sepulchral lychni shine ; 
Cinerary urns are seen, 
Graved each with a name, I ween, 
By the sickly radiance shown 
Every guest may read his own ! 
Forth then issue swarthy slaves, 
Each a torch and dagger waves ; 
Some like Manes habited, 
Figures ghastly as the dead ! 
Some as Lemures attired, 
Larvae some, with vengeance fired. 
See, the throat of every guest 
By a murderous gripe is prest ! 
While the wretch, with horror dumb, 
Tliinks his latest hour is come ! 
P 



THE THREE ORGIES. 

Loud then laugh' d Domitian, 
Thus his solemn feast began. 
Fill the goblet— fill it high— 
To Domitian's revelry. 
Let our glowing goblet be 
Crown'd with wine of Sicily. 



in. 

Borgia 1 holds a papal fete, 
And Zizime, with heart elate, 
With his chiefs barbarian 
iSeeks the gorgeous Vatican. 
'Tis a wondrous sight to see 
In Christian hall that company ! 






1 Pope Alexander VI., of the family of Lenzuoii, who assumed, pre- 
rious to his pontificate, the name of Borgia, (a name rendered infamous, 
as well by his own crimes and vices, as by those of the monster oflsprirg, 
Caesar and Lucrezia, whom he had by the courtezan Vanozza,) according to 
Gordon, was incited to the murder of Zizime or Djem, son of Mahomet II. 
by the offer of 300,000 ducats, from Bajazet, brother to the ill-fated 
Othman Prince. 



THE THREE ORGIES. C7 

But the Othman warriors soon 
Scout the precepts of Mahoun. 
Wines of Sicily and Spain, 
Joyously those paynims drain ; 
While Borgia's words their laughter stir, 
"BibimusPapaliter!" 
At a signal, pages three, 
With gold goblets, bend the knee ; 
Borgia pours the purple stream 
Till beads upon its surface gleam. 
" Do us a reason, noble guest," 
Thus Zizime, the pontiff pressed ? 
" By our triple-crown there lies 
In that wine-cup Paradise !" 
High Zizime the goblet raised — 
Loud Zizime the Cyprus praised — 
To each guest in order slow, 
Next the felon pages go. 
Each in turn the Cyprus quaffs, 
Like Zizime each wildly laughs, — 
p 2 



68 



THE THREE ORGIES. 



Laughter horrible and strange ! 

Quick ensues a fearful change, 

Stifled soon is every cry, 

Azrael is standing by. 

Glared Zizime — but spake no more ; 

Borgia's fatal feast was o'er ! 

Fill the goblet— fill it high— 

With the wines of Italy ; 

Borgia's words our laughter stir — 

Bibimus Papal iter ! 



CO 



ALL-SPICE, OR A SPICE OF ALL. 



Tiie people endure all, 
The men-at-arms cure all, 
The favourites sway all, 
Their reverences flay all, 
The citizens pay all, 
Our good king affirms all, 
The senate confirms all, 
The chancellor seals all, 
Queen Catherine conceals all, 
Queen Louise instructs all, 
Queen Margot conducts all, 
The Leaguers contrive all, 
The Jacobins shrive all, 
The Lutherans doubt all, 
The Zuinglians scout all, 



70 ALL-SPICE, OR A SPICE OF ALL. 

The Jesuits flout all, 
The Sorbonists rout all, 
Brother Henri believes all, 
Pierre de Gondy receives all, 1 
Ruggieri defiles all, 
Mad Siblot reviles all, 
The bilboquets please all, 
The sarbaeanes tease all, 
The Due de Guise tries all, 
Rare Crichton outvies all, 
Abbe Brantome retails all, 
Bussy d'Amboise assails all, 
Old Ronsard recants all, 
Young Jodelle enchants all, 
Fat Villequier crams all, 
His Holiness damns all, 
Esclairmonde bright outshines all, 
And wisely declines all, 
La Rebours will bless all, 
La Fosseuse confess all, 

1 Bishop of Paris. 



ALL-SPICE, OR A SPICE OF ALL. 71 

La Guyol will fly all, 
Torigni deny all, 
John Calvin misguide all, 
Wise Chicot deride all, 
Spanish Philip 1 may crave all, 
The Bearnais 2 brave all, 
The Devil will have all! 

i Philip II. 

2 Henri of Navarre, afterwards Henri IV. 



72 



DEATH TO THE HUGUENOT. 



Death to the Huguenot ! fagot ana name , 
Death to the Huguenot ! torture and shame ! 

Death! Death! 

Heretics' lips sue for mercy in vain, 

Drown their loud cries in the waters of Seine ! 

Drown! Drown! 

Hew down, consume them with fire and with sword ! 
A good work ye do in the sight of the Lord ! 

Kill! Kill! 

Hurl down their temples ! their ministers slay ! 
Let them bleed as they bled on Barthelemy's day ! 

Sky! Slay! 



73 



LA GITANILLA.* 



i. 

By the Guadalquivir, 

Ere the sun be flown, 
By that glorious river 

Sits a maid alone. 
Like the sunset splendour 
Of that current bright, 
Shone her dark eyes tender 

As its witching light ; 
Like the ripple flowing, 

Tinged with purple sheen, 
Darkly, richly glowing, 
Is her warm cheek seen. 
'Tis the Gitanilla 

By the stream doth linger, 
In the hope that 'eve 
Will her lover bring her. 

Bet to music by Mr. F. Eonier and Mrs. Henry Straccj. 



74 LA G1TANILLA. 



II. 



See, the sun is sinking; 
All grows dim, and dies ; 



See, the waves are drinking 



Glories of the skies. 
Day's last lustre playeth 
On that current dark ; 
Yet no speck betrayeth 

His long looked-for bark. 

"lis the hour of meeting ! 

Nay, the hour is past ; 

Swift the time is fleeting ! 

Pleeteth hope as fast ? 

Still the Gitanilla 

By the stream doth linger, 
In the hope that night 
Will her lover brinj? her. 



LA GITANILLA. 73 



III. 



Swift that stream flows on, 

Swift the night is wearing,— 
Yet she is not gone, 

Though with heart despairing. 
Dips an oar-plash — hark ! — 

Gently on the river ; 
'Tis her lover's bark, 

On the Guadalquivir. 
Hark ! a song she hears ! 

Every note she snatches. 
As the singer nears, 
Her own name she catches. 
Now the Gitanilla 

Stays not by the water, 
For the midnight hour 
Hath her lover brought her. 



7G 



THE TWICE-USED EING. 1 



" Beware thy bridal day ! " 

On her deathbed sighed my mother ; 
" Beware, beware, I say, 

Death shall wed thee, and no other. 
Cold the hand shall grasp thee, 
Cold the arms shall clasp thee, 
Colder lips thy kiss shall smother ! 
Beware thy bridal kiss ! 

■' Thy wedding-ring shall be 
Erom a clay-cold finger taken 

From one that, like to thee, 
Was by her love forsaken. 

1 Get to music by Mr. F. Rom or. 



THE TWICE-USED RING. 

For a twice-used ring 
Is a fatal thing ; 
Her griefs who wore it are partaken — 
Beware that fatal ring ! 

" The altar and the grave 

Many steps are not asunder ; 
Bright banners o'er thee wave, 
Shrouded horror lieth under. 
Blithe may sound the bell, 
Yet 'twill toll thy knell; 
Scathed thy chaplet by the thunder — 
Beware thy blighted wreath ! " 

Beware my bridal day ! 

Dying lips my doom have spoken ; 
Deep tones call me away ; 

From the grave is sent a token. 
Cold, cold fingers bring. 
That ill-omened ring ; 
Soon will a second heart be broken ! 
This is my bridal day ! 



77 



73 



THE SOUL-BELL.* 



Fast the sand of life is failing, 
Fast her latest sigh exhaling, 

Fast, fast, is she dying. 

With death's chills her limbs are shivering, 
With death's gasp her lips are quivering, 
Fast her soul away is flying. 

O'er the mountain-top it fleetetn, 
And the skiey wonders greeteth, 
Singing loud as stars it meeteth 
On its way. 

1 Set to music by Mr. F. Homer. 



THE SOUL-BELL. 79 

Hark ! the sullen Soul-bell tolling, 
Hollowly in echoes rolling, 

Seems to say — 

" She will ope her eyes — oh, never ! 
Quenched their dark light — gone for ever ! 
She is dead." 



80 



HYMN TO SAINT THECLA. 



In my trouble, in my anguish, 

In the depths of my despair, 
As in grief and pain I languish, 

Unto thee I raise my prayer. 
Sainted virgin ! martyr' d maiden ! 

Let thy countenance incline 
Upon one with woes o'erladen, 

Kneeling lowly at thy shrine ; 
That in agony, in terror, 

In her blind perplexity, 
Wandering weak in doubt and error, 

Calleth feebly upon thee. 
Sinful thoughts, sweet saint, oppress me, 

Thoughts that will not be dismissed ; 
Temptations dark possess me, 

Which my strength may not resist. 

i Set to music by Mr. F. Eomer. 



HYMN TO SAINT THECLA. 81 

I am full of pain, and weary 

Of my life ; I fain would die j 
Unto me the world is dreary ; 
To the grave for rest I fly. 
For rest ! — oh ! could I borrow 

Thy bright wings, celestial Dove ! 
They should waft me from my sorrow, 
Where Peace dwells in bowers above. 
Upon one with woes o'erladen, 

Kneeling lowly at thy shrine ; 
Sainted virgin ! martyr'd maiden ! 
Let thy countenance incline ! 
Met miserere Virgo, 
Requiem ceternam dona ! 

By thy loveliness, thy purity, 

By thy spirit undenled, 
That in serene security 

Upon earth's temptations smiled ; — 
By the fetters that constrain'd thee, 

By thy flame-attested faith, 

G 



82 HYMN TO SAINT THECLA. 

By the fervour that sustained thee, 
By thine angel-ushered death ; — 
By thy soul's divine elation, 

'Mid thine agonies assuring 
Of thy sanctified translation 
To beatitude enduring; — 
By the mystic interfusion 

Of thy spirit with the rays, 
That in ever-bright profusion 

Round the Throne Eternal blaze; — 
By thy portion now partaken, 

With the pain-perfected Just; 
Look on one of hope forsaken, 
From the gates of mercy thrust. 
Upon one with woes o'erladen, 
Kneeling lowly at thy shrine, 
Sainted virgin ! martyr'd maiden ! 
Let thy countenance incline ! 

Ora pro me mortis hord! 
Sancta Virgo, oro te ! 
Kyrie Eleison ! 



83 



HYMN TO SAINT CYPRIAN. 



Hear ! oh ! hear me, sufferer holy, 

Who didst make thine habitation 
'Mid these rocks, devoting wholly 

Life to one long expiation 
Of thy guiltiness, and solely 

By severe mortification 
Didst deliver thee. Oh ! hear me ! 

In my dying moments cheer me. 
By thy penance, self-denial, 
Aid me in the hour of trial. 

May, through thee, my prayers prevailing 

On the Majesty of Heaven, 
O'er the hosts of hell, assailing 

My soul, in this dark hour be driven ! 
G 2 



84 HYMN TO SAINT CYPRIAN. 

So my spirit, when exhaling, 

May of sinfulness be shriven, 
And his gift unto the Giver 
May be rendered pure as ever ! 
By thy own dark, dread possession. 
Aid me with thine intercession ! 



85 



THE CHURCHYARD YEW. 



Taxus. 



Metuendaque succo 



A noxious tree is the churchyard Yew, 
As if from the dead its sap it drew ; 
Dark are its branches, and dismal to see, 
Like plumes at Death's latest solemnity. 
Spectral and jagged, and black as the wings 
Which some spirit of ill o'er a sepulchre flings : 
Oh ! a terrible tree is the churchyard yew ; 
Like it is nothing so dreary to view. 

Yet this baleful tree hath a core so sound, 
Can nought so tough in the grove be found : 
From it were fashioned brave English bows, 
The boast of our isle, and the dread of its foes. 



86 THE CHURCHYARD YEW. 

For our sturdy sires cut their stoutest staves 
Prom the branch that hung o'er their father's graves ; 
And though it be dreary and dismal to view, 
Stanch at the heart is the churchyard yew. 



67 



BLACK BESS. 1 



i. 

Let the lover his mistress's beauty rehearse, 
And laud her attractions in languishing verse ; 
Be it mine in rude strains, but with truth to express, 
The love that 1 bear to my bonny Black Bess. 

ii. 
From the West was her dam, from the East was her sire, 
From the one came her swiftness, the other her fire ; 
No peer of the realm better blood can possess 
Than flows in the veins of my bonny Black Bess, 

in. 
Look ! look ! how that eyeball glows bright as a brand ! 
That neck proudly arches, those nostrils expand ! 
Mark that wide-flowing mane ! of which each silky tress 
Might adorn prouder beauties — though none like Black Bess. 

1 Set to music by Mr. F. Eomer. 



S8 BLACK BESS. 

IV. 

Mark that skin sleek as velvet, and dusky as night, 
With its jet undisfigured by one lock of white; 
That throat branched with veins, prompt to charge or caress 
Now is she not beautiful ? — bonny Black Bess ! 

v. 

Over highway and by-way, in rough and smooth weather, 
Some thousands of miles have we journeyed together ; 
Our couch the same straw, and our meal the same mess : 
No couple more constant than I and Black Bess ! 

VI. 

By moonlight, in darkness, by night, or by day, 
Her headlong career there is nothing can stay ; 
She cares not for distance, she knows not distress : 
Can you show me a courser to match with Black Bess ? 

VIL 

Once it happened in Cheshire, near Dunham, I popped 
On a horseman alone, whom I suddenly stopped ; 
That I lightened his pockets you'll readily guess — 
Quick work makes Dick Turpin when mounted on Bess. 



BLACK BESS. 89 

VIII. 

Now it seems the man knew me ; " Dick Turpin," said he, 
" You shall swing for this job, as you live, d'ye see ;" 
I laughed at his threats and his vows of redress ; 
I was sure of an alibi then with Black Bess. 

IX. 

The road was a hollow, a sunken ravine, 1 

Overshadowed completely by wood like a screen ; 

I clambered the bank, and I needs must confess 

That one touch of the spur grazed the side of Black Bess. 

x. 

Brake, brook, meadow, and ploughed field, Bess fleetly bestrode, 

As the crow wings her flight we selected our road ; 

1 The exact spot where Turpin committed this robbery, which has 
often been pointed out to me, lies in what is now a woody hollow, though 
once the old road from Altringham to Knutsford, skirting Dunham 
Park, and descending the hill that brings you to the bridge crossing the 
river Bollin. With some difficulty I penetrated this ravine. It is just 
the place for an adventure of the kind. A small brook wells through 
it; and the steep banks are overhung with timber, and were, when I 
last visited the place, in April, 1834, a perfect nest of primroses and wild 
flowers. Hough (pronounced Hoo) Green lies about three miles across 
the country — the way Turpin rode. The old Bowling-green used to be 
one of the pleasantest inna in Cheshire. 



00 BLACK BESS. 

We arrived at Hough Green in five minutes, or less- 
My neck it was saved by the speed of Black Bess. 



Stepping carelessly forward, I lounge on the green, 
Taking excellent care that by all I am seen j 
Some remarks on time's flight to the squires I address, 
But I say not a word of the flight of Black Bess. 

XII. 

I mention the hour — it was just about four — 
Play a rubber at bowls — think the danger is o'er; 
When athwart my next game, like a checkmate at chess, 
Comes the horseman in search of the rider of Bess. 

XIII. 

What matter details ? Off with triumph I came j 
He swears to the hour, and the squires swear the same \ 
I had robbed him at four! — while at four they profess 
I was quietly bowling — all thanks to Black Bess ! 



BLACK BESS. 91 

XIV. 

Then one halloo, boys, one loud cheering halloo ! 
To the swiftest of coursers, the gallant, the true ! 
For the sportsman unborn shall the memory bless 
Of the horse of the highwayman — bonny Black Bess ! 



92 



THE OLD OAK COFFIK 



Sic ego componi versus in ossa velim. — Tibulltjs. 

v In a churchyard, upon the sward, a coffin there was laid, 
And leaning stood, beside the wood, a sexton on his spade. 
A coffin old and black it was, and fashioned curiously, 
With quaint device of carved oak, in hideous fantasie. 

For here was wrought the sculptured thought of a tormented 

face, 
With serpents lithe that round it writhe, in folded strict embrace. 
Grim visages of grinning fiends were at each corner set, 
And emblematic scrolls, mort-heads, and bones together met. 

u Ah, well-a-day !" that sexton grey unto himself did cry, 
" Beneath that lid much lieth hid — much awful mystery. 
It is an ancient coffin from the abbey that stood here ; 
Perchance it holds an abbot's bones, perchance those of a frere. 



THE OLD OAK COFFIN. 93 

" In digging deep, where monks do sleep, beneath yon cloister 

shrined, 
That coffin old, within the mould, it was my chance to find ; 
The costly carvings of the lid I scraped full carefully, 
In hope to get at name or date, yet nothing could I see. 

" With pick and spade I've plied my trade for sixty years and 

more, 
Yet never found, beneath the ground, shell strange as that before ; 
Full many coffins have I seen — have seen them deep or flat, 
Fantastical in fashion — none fantastical as that." 

And saying so, with heavy blow, the lid he shattered wide, 
And, pale with fright, a ghastly sight that sexton grey espied ; 
A miserable sight it was, that loathsome corpse to see, 
The last, last, dreary, darksome stage of fall'n humanity. 

Though all was gone, save reeky bone, a green and grisly heap, 
"With scarce a trace of fleshy face, strange posture did it keep. 
The hands were clench' d, the teeth were wrench' d, as if the 

wretch had risen, 
E'en after death had ta'en his breath, to strive and burst his prison. 



94 THE OLD OAK COFFIN. 

The neck was bent, the nails were rent, no limb or joint was 

straight ; 
Together glned, with blood imbued, black and coagulate. 
And, as the sexton stooped him down to lift the coffin plank, 
His fingers were defiled all o'er with slimy substance dank. 

" Ah, well-a-day !" that sexton grey unto himself did cry, 

" Full well I see how Eate's decree foredoomed this wretch to 

die; 
A living man, a breathing man, within the coffin thrust, 
Alack ! alack ! the agony ere he returned to dust." 

A vision drear did then appear unto that sexton's eyes ; 
Like that poor wight before him straight he in a coffin lies. 
He lieth in a trance within that coffin close and fast ; 
Yet though he sleepeth now, he feels he shall awake at last. 

The coffin then, by reverend men, is borne with footsteps slow, 
Where tapers shine before the shrine, where breathes the requiem 

low; 
And for the dead the prayer is said, for the soul that is not flown — 
Then all is drown'd in hollow sound, the earth is o'er him thrown! 



THE OLD OAK COFFIN. 95 

He draweth breath — he wakes from death to life more horrible ; 

To agony ! such agony ! no living tongue may tell. 

Die ! die he must, that wretched one ! he struggles — strives in 

vain; 
No more heaven's light, nor sunshine bright, shall he behold again. 

" Gramercy, Lord !" the sexton roar'd, awakening suddenly, 
" If this be dream, yet doth it seem most dreadful so to die. 
Oh, cast my body in the sea ! or hurl it on the shore t 
But nail me not in coffin fast — no grave will I dig more." 



intutunl gallak 



99 



THE SORCERERS' SABBATH. » 



L 

A.ROUND Montfaucon's mouldering stones, 

The wizard crew is flitting ; 
And 'neath a Jew's unhallowed bones, 
/ Man's enemy is sitting. 

1 Le Loyer observes, that the " Saboe-evohe," sung at the orgia, or 
Bacchanalia, agree with the exclamations of the conjurers and witches — 
" Her Sabat — Sabat !" and that Bacchus, who was only a devil in disguiso, 
was named Sabassus, from the Sabbath of the Bacchanals. The accus- 
tomed form of their initiation was expressed in these words, — " I have 
drunk of the drum, and eaten of the cymbal; and am become a pro- 
ficient;" which Le Loyer explains in the following manner: — By the 
cymbal is meant the caldron used by the modern conjurers to boil those 
infants they intend to eat ; and by the drum, the goat's skin, blown up, 
whence they extract its moisture, boil it up fit to drink, and by that means 
are admitted to participate in the ceremonies of Bacchus. It is also 
alleged the name Sabbath is given to these assemblies of conjurers, because 
they are generally held on Saturdays. — Monsieur Ovfle. Description of 
the Sabbath. 

B 2 



100 THE SORCERERS' SABBATH. 

Terrible it is to see 

Such fantastic revelry ! 

Terrible it is to hear 

Sounds that shake the soul with fear ! 

Like the chariot wheels of Night, 

Swiftly round about they go ; 
Scarce the eye can track their flight, 

As the mazy measures flow. 
Now they form a ring of fire ; 
Now a spiral, funeral pyre : — 
Mounting now, and now descending, 
In a circle never ending. 
As the clouds the storm-blast scatters— 
As the oak the thunder shatters — 
As scared fowl in wintry weather — 
They huddle, groan, and scream together. 
Strains unearthly and forlorn 
Issue from yon wrinkled horn ; 
By the bearded Demon blown, 
Sitting on that great gray stone. 

Round with whistle and with whoop, 

Sweep the ever-whirling troop : 



THE SORCERERS SABBATH. 101 

Streams of light their footsteps trail, 
Forked as a comet's tail. 
« Her Sabat !— Sabat ! "—they cry— 
An abbess joins their company. 

n. 

Sullenly resounds the roof, 

With the tramp of horned hoof, — 

Rings each iron-girdled rafter 

With intolerable laughter : 

Shaken by the stunning peal, 

The chain-hung corses swing and reel. 

From its perch on a dead-man's bone, 

Wild with fright; hath the raven flown ; 

Fled from its feast hath the flesh-gorged rat : 

Gone from its roost is the vampire bat ; 

Stareth and screameth the screech-owl old, 

As he wheeMh his flight through the moonlit wold ; 

Bays the garbage-glutted hound, 

Quakes the blind mole underground. 

Hissing glides the speckled snake ; 

Loathliest things their meal forsake. 



102 THE SORCEKERS' SABBATH. 

From their holes beneath the wall, 
Newt, and toad, and adder crawl — 
In the Sabbath-dance to sprawl ! 
Round with whistle and with whoop, 
Sweep the ever-whirling troop ; 
Louder grows their frantic glee — 
Wilder yet their revelry, 
"Her Sabat !— Sabat ! "—they cry, 
A young girl joins their company. 



See that dark-hair'd girl advances — 
In her hand a poignard glances ; 
On her bosom, white and bare, 
Rests an infant passing fair : 
Like a thing from heavenly region, 
'Mid that diabolic legion. 
Lovelier maid was never seen 
Than that ruthless one, I ween : 
Shape of symmetry hath she, 
And a step as wild-doe free. 



THE SORCERERS' SAB13ATII. 103 

Her jetty hair is all unbound, 

And its long locks sweep the ground. 
x Hushed in sleep her infant lies — 
X "Perish ! child of sin," she cries, 

"To fiends thy frame I immolate — 

To fiends thy soul I dedicate ! 

Unbaptised, unwept, unknown — 

In hell thy sire may claim his own." 

From her dark eyes fury flashes — 

From her breast her babe she dashes. 

Gleams the knife— her brow is wrinkled — 

With warm blood her hand is sprinkled ! 

Without a gasp — without a groan, 

Her slumbering infant's soul hath flown. 

At Sathan's feet the corse is laid — 

To Sathan's view the knife display'd. 1 

A roar of laughter shakes the pile — 

A mocking voice exclaims the while : — 

1 Sathan will have an ointment composed of the flesh of unbaplised 
children, that these innocents, being deprived of their lives by these wicked 
witches, their poor little souls may be deprived of the glories of Paradise. 
— De Lancre. 



104 THE SORCERERS' SABBATH. 

" By this covenant — by this sign, 
False wife ! false mother ! thou art mine ! 
Weal or wo, whate'er betide, 
Thy doom is sealed, infanticide ! 
Shall nor sire's nor brother's wrath, 
Nor husband's vengeance cross thy path ; 
And on him, thy blight, thy bane, 
Hell's consuming fire shall reign ! " 
Round with whistle and with whoop, 
Sweep the ever-whirling troop ; 
In the caldron bubbling fast, 
The babe is by its mother cast ! 
"Eman hetan! " shout the crew, 
And their frenzied dance renew. 



IV. 

The Fiend's wild strains are heard no more- 
Dabbled in her infant's gore, 
The new-made witch the caldron stii s — 
Howl the demon- worshippers. 
Now begin the Sabbath rites — 



THE SORCERERS' SABBATH. 105 

Sathan marks his proselytes ; l 

A.nd eacli wrinkled hag anoints 

With unguents rank her withered joints. 

Unimaginable creeds — 

Unimaginable deeds — 

Foul, idolatrous, malicious, 

Baleful, black, and superstitious, 

Every holy form profaning, 

Every sacred symbol staining, 

Each foul sorcerer observes, 

At the feet of him he serves. 

Here a goat is canonized, 

x Here a bloated toad baptised ; 
Bells around its neck are hung, 
Velvet on its back is flung ; 
Mystic words are o'er it said, 
Poison on its brow is shed. 2 

1 The devil marks the sorcerers in a place which he renders insensible. 
And this mark is, in some, the figure of a hare ; in others, of a toad's foot, 
or a black cat. — Delrio, Disquisitiones Magicee. 

* As the sabbath toads are baptised, and dressed in red or black velvet, 
with a bell at their neck, and another at each foot, the male sponsor holds 
the head, the female the feet. — De Lancre. 



106 THE SORCERERS' SABBATH. 

Here a cock of snowy plume, 
Flutters o'er the caldron's fume ; 
By a Hebrew Moohel slain, 
Muttering spells of power amain. 1 

There within the ground is laid 

An image that a foe may fade, 
Priest unholy, chanting faintly 
Masses weird with visage saintly ; 
While respond the howling choir 
Antiphons from dark grimoire. 2 
Clouds from out the caldron rise, 
Shrouding fast the star-lit skies. 

1 The sacrifice of a snow- white cock is offered by the Jews at the Feast 
of the Reconciliation. This was one of the charges brought against the 
Marechale D'Ancre, condemned under Louis XIII. for sorcery and 
Judaism. Another absurd accusation, to which she pleaded guilty, was 
the eating of rams' kidneys ! Those kidneys, however, we are bound to 
state, had been blessed as well as deviled. From Cornelius Agrippa we 
learn that the blood of a white cock is a proper suffumigation to the sun; 
and that if pulled in pieces, while living, by two men, according to the 
ancient and approved practice of the Methonenses, the disjecta membra 
of the unfortunate bird will repel all unfavourable breezes. The reader of 
Rabelais, will also call to mind what is said respecting le cocq blanc in 
the chapter of Gargantua, treating '*' de ce qu'est tignifie par les couleurs 
blanc et bleu ! " 
2 "The Black Book." 



THE SORCERERS SABBATH. 107 

Like ribs of mammoth through the gloom, 
Hoar Montfaucon's pillars loom ; 
Wave its dead — a grisly row — 
In the night-breeze to and fro. 
At a beck from Sathan's hand, 
Drop to earth that charnel baud, — 
Clattering as they touch the ground 
With a harsh and jarring sound. 
Their fluttering rags, by vulture rent, 
A ghastly spectacle present ; 
Flakes of flesh of livid hue, 
With the white bones peeping through. 
Blue phosphoric lights are seen 
In the holes where eyes have been : 
Shining through each hollow skull, 
Like the gleam of lantern dull ! 

Hark ! they shake their manacles — 

Hark ! each hag responsive yells ! 
And her freely-yielded waist 
Is by fleshless arms embraced, 
Once again begins the dance — 
How they foot it — how they prance .' 



108 THE SORCERERS' SABBATH. 

Hound the gibbet-cirque careering, 
On their grinning partners fleering, 
While, as first amid their ranks, 
The new-made witch with Sathan pranks. 

Furious grows their revelry, — 

But see ! — within the eastern sky, 
A bar of gold proclaims the sun — 
Hark ! the cock crows — all is done ! 
With a whistle and a whoop, 
Vanish straight the wizard troop ; 
On the bare and blasted ground, 
Horned hoofs no more resound : 
Caldron, goat, and broom are flown, 
And Montfaucon claims its own. 



109 



INCANTATION. 



i. 

Lovely spirit, who dost dwell 
In the bowers invisible, 
By undying Hermes reared, 
By Stagyric sage revered, 
Where the silver fountains wander, 
Where the golden streams meander, 
Where the dragon vigil keeps 
Over mighty treasure heaps ; 
Where the mystery is known, 
Of the wonder working Stone; 
Wheie the quintessence is gained, 
And immortal life attained — 
Spirit by this* spell of power, 
I call thee from thy viewless bower. 



110 INCANTATION. 

II. 

The charm is wrought — the word is spoken 

And the sealed vial broken ! 
^ Element with element 
/ Is incorporate and blent ; 

Fire with water — air with earth, 

As before creation's birth; 
. Matter gross is purified, 
y Matter humid rarefied ; 
> Matter volatile is fixed, 

The spirit with the clay commixed. 

Laton is by azoth purged, 

And the argent-vif disgorged ; 

And the black crow's head is ground, 

And the magistery found; 

And with broad empurpled wing 

Springs to light the blood-red king, 

By this fiery assation — 

By this wondrous permutation 

Spirit, from thy burning sphere 

Float to earth — appear — appear ! 



Ill 



THE WONDROUS STONE. 



i. 

Within the golden portal 

Of the garden of the wise, 
"Watching by the seven-spray'd fountain, 

The Hesperian Dragon lies. 1 

1 These lines are little more than a versification of some of the 
celebrated President D'Espagnet's hermetic canons, with which the 
English adept must be familiar in the translation of Elias Ashmole. 
D'Espagnet's Arcanum Philosophise Hermetic* has attained a classical 
celebrity among his disciples, at one period sufficiently numerous. 
The subjoined interpretation of this philosophical allegory may save the 
uninitiated reader some speculation. "La Fontaine que Kon trouve a 
1' entree du Jardin est le Mercure des Sages, qui sort des sept sources, 
parce qu'il est le principe des sept me'taux, et qu'il est forme" par les sept 
planetes, quoique le soleil seul soit appete son pere et la lune seule sa 
mere. Le Dragon qu'on y fait boire est la putrefaction qui survient a la^ 
matiere qui'ls ont appelee Dragon, a cause de sa couleur noire, et de sa A 
puanteur. Ce Dragon quitte ses vetemens, lorsque la couleur grise v 
succede a la noire. Vous ne reussirez point si Venus et Diane ne vous 
sont favorablea, c'est-a-dire, si par le regime de feu, vous ne parvenez a 



112 THE WONDROUS STONE. 

Like the ever-burning branches 

In the dream of holy seer ; 
Like the types of Asia's churches 

Those glorious jets appear. 
Three times the magic waters 

Must the Winged Dragon drain ; 
Then his scales shall burst asunder, 

And his heart be reft in twain. 
Forth shall flow an emanation, 

Forth shall spring a shape divine, 
And if Sol and Cynthia aid thee, 

Shall the charmed Key be thine. 

ii. 

In the solemn groves of Wisdom, 

Where black pines their shadows fling 

blanchir la matiere qu'il appelle dans cet 6tat de blancheur le regne de la 
lune." — Dictionnaire Mytlio-Hermetique. The mysterious influence of 
the number Seven, and its relations with the planets, is too well known to 
need explanation here. Jacques Bohom has noticed it in the enigma con- 
tained in his Aquarium Sapientium, beginning — 

Septem sunt urbes, septem pro more metalla, 

Suntque dies septem, septimus est numerus. 

jc.r.X. 



THE WONDROUS STONE. 113 

Near the haunted cell of Hermes, 

Three lovely flow'rets spring : 
The violet damask-tinted, 

In scent all flowers above ; 
The milk-white vestal lily, 

And the purple flower of love. 
Red Sol a sign shall give thee 

Where the sapphire violets gleam, 
Watered by the rills that wander 

From the viewless golden stream, 
One violet shalt thou gather — 

But ah ! — beware, beware ! — 
The lily and the amaranth 

Demand thy chiefest care. 1 



1 Vous ne separerez point ces fleurs de leur racines — c'est-i-dire, qu'il 
ne faut nen 6ter du vase. Par ce moyen on aura d'abord des violettes de 
oouleur de saphir fonce, ensuite de lys, et enfin l'amaranthe, ou la couleur 
de pourpre, qui est l'indice de la perfection du souffire aurifique.— Diet 
Mytho-Herm, 



114 THE WONDROUS STONE. 

III. 

Within the lake of crystal, 1 

Roseate as the sun's first ray, 
With eyes of diamond lustre, 2 

A thousand fishes play. 
A net within that water, 

A net with web of gold ; 
If cast where air-bells glitter, 

One shining fish shall hold. 

IV. 

Amid the oldest mountains, 3 

Whose tops are next the sun, 
The everlasting rivers 

Through glowing channels run. 

i Les philosophes ont souvent donne le nom du Lac a leur vase, et au 
mercure, qui y est renferme\ — Diet. Mytho-Herm. 

2 Lorsque la matiere est parvenue a un certain degre de cuisson, il se 
forme sur sa superficie de petites boules qui ressemblent aux yeux dea 
poissons. — Diet. Mytho-Herm. 

3 Quelquefois les Alcliemistes ont entendu par le terme de Montagne 
leur vase, leur fourneau, et toute matiere metallique. — Diet. Mytho-Herm. 



THE WONDROUS STONE. 115 

Those mountains are of silver, 

Those channels are of gold ; 
And thence the countless treasures 

Of the kings of earth are rolled ; 
But far — far must he wander 

O'er realms and seas unknown, 
Who seeks the ancient mountains, 

Where shines the Wondrous Stone ! 



i 2 



116 



THE CRYSTAL VASE. 



In that mystic vase doth lie 

Life and immortality. 

Life to him who droops in death, 

To the gasping bosom breath. 

Immortality alone 

To him to whom the " Word" is known. 

Take it — 'tis a precions boon 

Vouchsafed by Hermes to his son. 



117 



THE NAMELESS WITCH. 



On the smouldering fire is thrown 
Tooth of fox and weasel bone. 
Eye of cat, and skull of rat. 
And the hooked wing of bat, 
Mandrake root and murderer's gore, 
Henbane, hemlock, hellebore, 
Stibium, storax, bdellium, borax, 
Ink of cuttle-fish and feather 
Of the screech-owl, smoke together, 

n. 

On the ground is a circle traced; 
On that circle a seal is placed; 
On that seal is a symbol graven ; 
On that symbol an orb of heaven; 



118 THE NAMELESS WITCH. 

By that orb is a figure shown ; 
By that figure a name is known : 
Wandering witch it is thine own ! — 

But thy name must not be named, 
Nor to mortal ears proclaimed. 

Shut are the leaves of the Grimoire dread 
The spell is muttered — the word is said, 
And that word, in a whisper drowned, 
Shall to thee like a whirlwind sound. 

Swift through the shivering air it flics — 
Swiftly it traverses earth and skies ; 
Wherever thou art — above — below — 
Thither that terrible word shall go- 
Art thou on the waste alone, 
To the white moon making moan ? 
Art thou, human eye eschewing, 
In some cavern pliilters brewing ? 



THE NAMELESS WITCII. 119 

By familiar swart attended — 
By a triple charm defended — 
Gatherest thou the grass that waves 
O'er dank pestilential graves ? — 
Or on broom or goat astride, 
To thy Sabbath dost thou ride ? 
Or with sooty imp doth match thee ? 
From his arms my spell shall snatch thee. 
Shall it seek thee — and find thee, 
And with a chain bind thee ; 
And through the air whirl thee, 
And at my feet hurl thee ! 

By the word thou dreadst to hear ! 
Nameless witch ! — appear— appear ! 



120 



THE TEMPTATION OF SAINT ANTHONY.* 



Saint Anthony weary 
Of hermit-cell dreary, 
Of penance, and prayings 
Of orison saying, 
Of mortification, 
And fleshly vexation, 
By good sprites forsaken, 
By sin overtaken, 
On flinty couch lying, 
For death, like Job, crying, 

1 See Callot's magnificent piece of diablerie upon this subject, and the 
less extravagant, but not less admirable, picture of Teniers ; and what will 
well bear comparison with either, Eetzch's illustration of the Walpurgis 
Night Revels of Goethe. 



. v« 













THK UMPrATlON OK 8A.INT iNl'HOST. 



THE TEMPTATION OF SAINT ANTHONY. 121 

Was suddenly shrouded 
By thick mists, that clouded 
All objects with vapour, 
And through them, like taper, 
A single star shimmered, 
And with blue flame glimmered. 



ii. 

What spell then was muttered 
May never be uttered ; 
Saint Anthony prayed not — 
Saint Anthony stayed not — 
But down — down descending 
Through caverns unending, 
Whose labyrinths travel 
May never unravel, 
By thundering torrent, 
By toppling crag horrent, 
All perils unheeding, 
As levin swift speeding, 



122 THE TEMPTATION OF SAINT ANTHONY, 

Habakkuk out-vying 
On seraph-wing flying, 
Was borne on fiend's pinion 
To Hell's dark dominion. 



Hi. 

Oh ! rare is the revelry 
Of Tartarus' devilry ! 
Above him — around him — 
On all sides surround him- 
With wildest grimaces 
Fantastical faces ! 
Here huge bats are twittering. 
Strange winged mice flittering, 
Great horned owls hooting, 
Pale hissing stars shooting, 
Red fire-drakes careering 
With harpies are fleering. 
Shapes whizzing and whirling, 



bj 



Weird Sabbath -dance twirling, 



THE TEMPTATION OF SAINT ANTHONY. 123 

Round bearded goat scowling, 
Their wild refrain howling — 
"Alegremonos Alegremos 
Quegente nue va tenemos." 1 

rv. 

Here Lcmures, Lares, 
Trolls, foliots, fairies, 
Nymph, gnome, salamander, 
In frolic groups wander. 
Fearful shapes there are rising, 
Of aspect surprising, 
Phantasmata Stygia, 
Spectra prodigia ! 
Of aspect horrific, 
Of gesture terrific. 

1 According to Delancre, the usual refrain of the Sorcerers' Sabbath- 
song. See his "Description of the Inconstancy of Evil Angels and 
Demons." "Delancre's Description of the Witches' Sabbath," observes 
the amusing author of Monsieur Oufle, "is so very ample and particular, 
that I don't believe I should be better informed concerning it if I had 
been there myself." 



124 THE TEMPTATION OP SAINT ANTHONY. 

Where caldrons are seething, 
Lithe serpents are wreathing, 
And wizards are gloating 
On pois'nous scum floating, 
While skull and bone placed out 
In circle are traced out. 
Here witches air-gliding 
On broomsticks are riding, 
A hag a faun chases, 
A nun Pan embraces. 
Here mimic fights waging, 
Hell's warriors are raging ; 
Each legion commanding 
A chief is seen standing. 
Beelzebub gleaming, 
Like Gentile god seeming- 
Proud Belial advancing, 
With awful ire glancing; 
Asmodeus the cunning, 
Abaddon, light shunning, 



THE TEMPTATION OF SAINT ANTHONY 12-> 

Dark Moloch deceiving, 
His subtle webs weaving ; 
Meressin air-dwelling, 
Red Mammon gold-telling. 

v. 

The Fiend, then dissembling, 
Addressed the saint trembling : 
" These are thine if down bowing, 
Unto me thy soul vowing, 
Thy worship thou'lt offer." 

"Back, Tempter, thy proffer 
With scorn is rejected." 

"Unto me thou'rt subjected, 
For % doubts, by the Eternal ! " 
Laughed the Spirit Infernal. 

At his word then compelling, 
"Forth rushed from her dwelling 



126 THE TEMPTATION OF SAINT ANTHONY. 

A shape so inviting, 
Enticing, delighting, 
With lips of such witchery, 
Tongue of such treachery, 
(That sin-luring smile is 
The torment of Lilis,) 
Like Eve in her Eden, 
Our father misleading. 
With locks so wide flowing 
Limbs so bright-glowing ; — 
That Hell hath bewrayed him 
If Heaven do not aid him. 

" Her charms are surrendered 
If worship is rendered." 

" Sathan, get thee behind me 
My sins no more blind me — 
By Jesu's temptation ! 
By lost man's salvation ! 
Be this vision banished!" 

And* straight Hell evanished. 



127 



INSCRIPTION ON A GOLDEN KEY. 



Gold ! who wert a father's bane, 
Gold ! who wert a mother's stain, 
Gold ! be thou a daughter's chain 

Of purity. 
Shield her breast from sword and fire, 
From intemperate desire ; 
From a heaven-abandon' d sure, 

In charity !" 



128 



A MIDNIGHT MEETING OF THE LANCA- 
SHIRE WITCHES. 



[Scene— The Ruined Conventual Church of Whalley Abbey.] 
Mother Mould-heels. 
Head of monkey, brain of cat, 
Eye of weasel, tail of rat, 
Jnice of mugwort, mastic, myrrh- 
All within the pot I stir. 

Old Wizaed. 

Here is foam from a mad dog's lips, 
Gather'd beneath the moon's eclipse, 
Ashes of a shrond consumed, 
And with deadly vapour fumed. 
These within the mess I cast — 
Stir the caldron— stir it fast ! 



MIDNIGHT MEETING OF THE LANCASHIRE WITCHES 129 

A Red-haired Witch. 

Here are snakes from out the river, 
Bones of toad and sea-calf's liver; 
Swine's flesh fatten'd on her brood, 
Wolfs tooth, hare's foot, weasel's blood. 
Skull of ape and fierce baboon, 
And panther spotted like the moon; 
Feathers of the horned owl, 
Daw, pie, and other fatal fowl. 
Fruit from fig-tree never sown, 
Seed from cypress never grown. 
All within the mess I cast, 
Stir the caldron — stir it fast ! 

Malison. 

In his likeness it is moulded, 
In his vestments 'tis enfolded. 
Ye may know it, as I show it ! 
In the breast sharp pins I stick, 
And I drive them to the quick. 
K 



130 A MIDNIGHT MEETING OP 

They are in — they are in — 

And the wretch's pangs begin. 

Now his heart 

Eeels the smart 

Through his marrow, 

Sharp as arrow, 

Torments quiver 

He shall shiver, 

He shall burn, 

He shall toss, and he shall turn, 

Unavailingly. 

Aches shall rack him 

Cramps attack him ; 

He shall wail, 

Strength shall fail, 

Till he die 

Miserably ! 



THE LANCASHIRE WITCHES. 131 

Third Witch. 

Over mountain, over valley, over woodland, over waste, 

On our gallant broomsticks riding, we have come with frantic 

haste, 
And the reason of our coming, as ye wot well, is to see 
"Who this night, as new-made witch, to our ranks shall added be. 

Second Wizard. 

Beat the water, Demdike's daughter ! 

Till the tempest gather o'er us ; 
Till the thunder strike with wonder 

And the lightnings flash before us ! 
Beat the water, Demdike's daughter ! 
Ruin seize our foes, and slaughter ! 

Elizabeth Device. 

Mount, water, to the skies ! 
Bid the sudden storm arise. 
Bid the pitchy clouds advance, 
Bid the forked lightnings glance, 
k 2 



132 A MIDNIGHT MEETING OP 

Bid the angry thunder growl, 
Bid the wild wind fiercely howl ! 
Bid the tempest come amain, 
Thunder, lightning, wind, and rain ! 

Chorus. 
Beat the water, Demdike's daughter ! 
See the tempest gathers o'er us ; 
Lightning flashes — thunder crashes, 
Wild winds sing in lusty chorus ! 

Mother Chattox. 

Here is juice of poppy bruised, 
With black hellebore infused; 
Here is mandrake's bleeding root, 
Mix'd with moonshade's deadly fruit ; 
Viper's bag, with venom fill'd, 
Taken ere the beast was kill'd ; 
Adder's skin, and raven's feather, 
With shell of beetle blent together ; 



THE LANCASHIRE WITCHES. 133 

Dragonwort and barbatus, 
Hemlock black and poisonous ; 
Horn of hart, and storax red, 
Lapwing's blood, at midnight shed. 
In the heated pan they burn, 
And to pungent vapours turn, 
By this strong suffumigation, 
By this potent invocation, 
Spirits ! I compel you here ! 
All who list my call appear ! 

Invocation. 

White-robed brethren, who of old, 
Nightly paced yon cloisters cold, 
Sleeping now beneath the mould ! 
I bid ye rise. 

Abbots ! by the weakling fear'd, 
By the credulous revered, 
Who this mighty fabric rear*d ! 
I bid ye rise ! 



134 A MIDNIGHT MEETING OP 

And thou last and guilty one l 1 
By thy lust of power undone, 
Whom in death thy fellows shun ! 
I bid thee come ! 

And thou, fair one, 2 who disdain'd 
To keep the vows thy lips had feign'd ; 
And thy snowy garments stain'd ! 
I bid thee come ! 

Mrs. Nutter. 
Thy aid I seek, infernal Power ! 
Be thy word sent to Malkin Tower, 
That the beldame old may know 
Where I will thou'dst have her go — 
What I will, thou'dst have her do ! 

Evil Spirit. 
Thou who seek'st the Demon's aid, 
Know'st the price that must be paid. 

i John Paslew, last Abbot of Whalley. Capitale affectus supplicio— 1537. 
2 Isole de Heton 



THE LANCASHIRE WITCHES. 135 

Mbs. Nutter. 

Spirit, grant the aid I crave, 

And that thou wishest thou shalt have. 

Another worshipper is won, 

Thine to be when all is done. 



Evil Spirit. 

Enough, proud witch, I am content. 
To Malkin Tower the word is sent, 
Forth to her task the beldame goes, 
And where she points the streamlet flows ; 
Its customary bed forsaking, 
Another distant channel making. 
Round about like elfets tripping, 
Stock and stone, and tree are skipping ; 
Halting where she plants her staff, 
With a wild exulting laugh. 
Ho ! ho ! 'tis a merry sight, 
Thou hast given the hag to-night. 



136 A MIDNIGHT MEETING OP 

Lo ! the sheepfold, and the herd, 
To another site are stirr'd ! 
And the rugged limestone quarry, 
Where 'twas digg'd may no more tarry; 
While the goblin-haunted dingle, 
With another dell must mingle. 
Pendle Moor is in commotion, 
Like the billows of the ocean, 
When the winds are o'er it ranging, 
Heaving, falling, bursting, changing, 
Ho ! ho ! 'tis a merry sight, 
Thou hast given the hag to night. 

Lo ! the moss-pool sudden flies, 
In another spot to rise ; 
And the scanty -grown plantation 
Finds another situation, 
And a more congenial soil, 
Without needing woodman's toil. 
Now the warren moves — and see ! 
How the burrowing rabbits flee, 



THE LANCASHIRE WITCHES. 137 

Hither, thither till they find it, 
"With another brake behind it. 

Ho ! ho ! 'tis a merry sight, 

Thou hast given the hag to-night. 

Lo ! new lines the witch is tracing, 
Every well-known mark effacing, 
Elsewhere, other bounds erecting, 
So the old there's no detecting. 

Ho ! ho ! 'tis a pastime quite, 

Thou hast given the hag to-night. 

The hind at eve, who wander'd o'er 
The dreary waste of Pendle Moor, 
Shall wake at dawn, and in surprise, 
Doubt the strange sight that meets his 
The pathway leading to his hut 
Winds differently — the gate is shut. 
The ruin on the right that stood, 
Lies on the left, and nigh the wood; 
The paddock fenced with wall of stone, 



133 MIDNIGHT MEETING OP THE LANCASHIRE WITCIICS. 

Well-stock' d with kine, a mile hath flown, 
The sheepfold and the herd are gone. 
Through channels new the brooklet rushes, 
Its ancient course conceal'd by bushes. 
Where the hollow was a mound 
Rises from the upheaved ground. 
Doubting, shouting with surprise, 
How the fool stares, and rubs his eyes ! 
All so changed, the simple elf 
Fancies he is changed himself! 

Ho ! ho ! 'tis a merry sight 

The hag shall have when dawns the light. 

But see ! she halts and waves her hand, 

All is done as thou hast plann'd. 



139 



THE MANDKAKRi 



MtoXv 8e /ail/ KoAe'ovcri 6eol, xaAejrbi' Se t 6pvo - <m>» 
'AvSpacri ye 0VT)TOi<n, 0eo! Se re ir&vra SvvavraL. 

HOMEEUS. 



The mandrake grows 'neath the gallows-tree, 
And rank and green are its leaves to see ; 
Green and rank, as the grass that waves 
Over the unctuous earth of graves ; 

1 The supposed malignant influence of the mandrake is frequently alluded 
to by our elder dramatists; and with one of the greatest of them, Webster 
(as might be expected from a muse revelling like a ghoul in graves and 
sepulchres), the plant is an especial favourite. But none have plunged so 
deeply into the subject as Sir Thomas Browne. He tears up the fable root 
and branch. Concerning the danger ensuing from eradication of the man- 
drake, he thus writes : — " The last assertion is, that there follows a hazard 
of life to them that pull it up, that some evil fate pursues them, and that 
they live not very long hereafter. Therefore the attempt hereof among 
the ancients was not in ordinary way ; but, as Pliny informeth, when they 
intended to take up the root of this plant, they took the wind thereof, and 



140 THE MANDRAKE. 

And though all around it be bleak and bare, 
Freely the mandrake flourisheth there. 

Maranatha — Anathema ! 
Bread is the curse of mandragora ! 

Euthanasg ! 

At the foot of the gibbet the mandrake springs, 

Just where the creaking carcase swings ; 

Some have thought it engendered 

From the fat that drops from the bones of the dead ; 

Some have thought it a human thing ; 

But this is a vain imagining, 

Maranatha — Anathema ! 
Dread is the curse of mandragora f 

Euthanasy ! 

with a sword describing three circles about it, they digged it up, looking 
toward the west. A conceit not only injurious unto truth and con- 
futable by daily experience, but somewhat derogatory unto the providence 
of God ; that is, not only to impose so destructive a quality on any plant, 
but to conceive a vegetable whose parts are so useful unto many, should, 
in the only taking up, prove mortal unto any. This were to introduce a 
second forbidden fruit, and enhance the first malediction, making it not 
only mortal for Adam to taste the one, but capital for his posterity to 
eradicate, or dig up the other." — Vulgar Errors, book ii. c. vi. 



TIIE MANDRAKE. 141 

A charnel leaf doth the mandrake wear, 

A charnel fruit doth the mandrake boar ; 

Yet none like the mandrake hath such great power, 

Such virtue resides not in plant or flower ; 

Aconite, hemlock, or moonshade, I ween, 

None hath a poison so subtle and keen. 

Maranatha — Anathema ! 
Bread is the curse of mandr agora ! 

Euthanasyf 

And whether the mandrake be create 
Flesh with the flower incorporate, 
I know not ; yet, if from the earth 'tis rent, 
Shrieks and groans from the root are sent ; 
Shrieks and groans, and a sweat like gore, 
Oozes and drops from the clammy core. 

Maranatha — Anathema ! 
Dread is the curse of mandragora ! 

Euthanasy t 

Whoso gathereth the mandrake shall surely die ; 
Blood for blood is his destiny. 



142 THE MANDRAKE. 

Some who have plucked it have died with groans, 
Like to the mandrake's expiring moans ; 
Some have died raving, and some beside, 
With penitent prayers — but all have died. 

Jesu ! save us by night and by day ! 
From the terrible death of mandragora ! 

Buthanasy ! 



143 



EPHIALTES.. 



I eide alone — I ride by night 

Through the moonless air on a courser white ! 

Over the dreaming earth I fly, 

Here and there — at my phantasy ! 

My frame is withered, my visage old, 

My locks are frore, and my bones ice-cold. 

The wolf will howl as I pass his lair, 

The ban-dog moan, and the screech-owl stare. 

Tor breath, at my coming, the sleeper strains, 

And the freezing current forsakes his veins ! 



144 EPHIALTES. 

Vainly for pity the wretch may sue — 
Merciless Mara no prayers subdue ! 

To his couch I flit — 
On his breast I sit — 

Astride ! astride ! astride ! 
And one charm alone 
{.A hollow stone t *) 

Can scare me from his side ! 



II. 

A thousand antic shapes I take ; 

The stoutest heart at my touch will quake. 

The miser dreams of a bag of gold, 

Or a ponderous chest on his bosom rolled. 

1 In reference to this imaginary charm, Sir Thomas Browne observes, in 
his Vulgar Errors, "What natural effects can reasonably be expected, 
when, to prevent the Ephialtes, or Nightmare, we hang a hollow stone in 
our stables?" Grose also states, "that a stone with a hole in it, hung at 
the bed's head, will prevent the nightmare, and is therefore called a hag- 
stone." The belief in this charm still lingers in some districts, and main- 
tains, like the horse-shoe affixed to the barn-door, a feeble stand against 
the superstition-destroying "march of intellect." 



EPHJALTES. 1 45 

The drunkard groans 'neath a cask of wine ; 
The reveller swelts 'neath a weighty chine. 
The recreant turns, by his foes assailed, 
To flee ! — but his feet to the ground are nailed. 
The goatherd dreams of the mountain-tops, 
And, dizzily reeling, downward drops. 
The murderer feels at his throat a knife, 
And gasps, as his victim gasp'd for life ! 
The thief recoils from the scorching brand ; 
The mariner drowns in sight of land ! 
— Thus sinful man have I power to fray, 
Torture and rack — but not to slay ! 
But ever the couch of purity, 
With shuddering glance I hurry by. 

Then mount 1 away ! 

To horse ! I say, 

To horse ! astride ! astride ! 

The fire-drake shoots — 

The screech-owl hoots — 

As through the air I glide ! 



146 



THE CORPSE-CANDLE. 



Lambere flamma ra^os et circam funera pasci. 

I. 

jc Through the midniglit gloom did a pale blue light 
To the churchyard mirk wing its lonesome flight : — 
Thrice it floated those old walls round — 
Thrice it paused — till the grave it found. 
Over the grass-green sod it glanced, 
Over the fresh-turned earth it danced, 
Like a torch in the night-breeze quivering— 
Never was seen so gay a thing ! 
Never was seen so blithe a sight 
As the midnight dance of that pale blue light ! 

II. 

Now what of that pale blue flame dost know ? 
Canst tell where it comes from, or where it will go ? 



THE CORPSE-CANDLE. 147 

Is it the soul, released from clay, 

Over the earth that takes its way, 

And tarries a moment in mirth and glee 

Where the corse it hath quitted interr'd shall be P 

Or is it the trick of some fanciful sprite, 

That taketh in mortal mischance delight, 

And marketh the road the coffin shall go, 

And the spot where the dead shall be soon laid low ? 

Ask him who can answer these questions aright ; 

/ know not the cause of that pale blue light ! 



l2 



? I ■ 143 



THE HAND OF GLORY. ] 



From the corse that hangs on the roadside tree 

(A murderer's corse it needs must be), 

Sever the right hand carefully : — 

Sever' the hand that the deed hath done, 

Ere the flesh that clings to the bones be gone ; 

In its dry veins must blood be none. 

Those ghastly fingers white and cold, 

Within a winding-sheet enfold; 

Count the mystic count of seven : 

Name the Governors of heaven. 2 

Then in earthen vessel place them, 

And with dragon-wort encase them, 

1 See the celebrated recipe for the Hand of Glory in " Lcs Secrets du 
Petit Albert." 

2 The seven planets, so called by Mercurius Trismegistus. 



THE HANI) OF GLORY. 149 

Bleach them in the noonday sun, 

Till the marrow melt and run, 

Till the flesh is pale and wan, 

As a moon-ensilvered cloud, 

As an unpolluted shroud. 

Next within their chill embrace 

The dead man's awful candle place ; 

Of murderer's fat must that candle be 

(You may scoop it beneath the roadside tree), 

Of wax, and of Lapland sisame. 

Its wick must be twisted of hair of the dead, 

By the crow and her brood on the wild waste shed. 

Wherever that terrible light shall burn 

Vainly the sleeper may toss and turn ; 

His leaden lids shall he ne'er unclose 

So long as the magical taper glows. 

Life and treasure shall he command 

Who knoweth the charm of the Glorious Iland ! 

But of black cat's gall let him aye have care, 

And of screech-owl's venomous blood beware ! 



150 



THE CARRION CROW. 



* The Carrion Crow is a sexton bold, 
He raketh the dead from ont of the mould ; 
He delveth the ground like a miser old, 
Stealthily hiding his store of gold. Caw! Caw! 

The Carrion Crow hath a coat of black, 
I Silky and sleek like a priest's to his back ; 
? Like a lawyer he grubbeth — no matter what way — 
/The fouler the offal, the richer his prey. 

Caw! Caw ! the Carrion Crow ! 
Dig ! Dig ! in the ground below! 

1 Set to music by Mr. F. Somen 



THE CARRION CROW. 151 

n. 

The Carrion Crow hath a dainty maw, 

With savory pickings he crammeth his craw ; 

Kept meat from the gibbet it pleaseth his whur., 

It never can hang too long for him ! Caw ! Caw ! 

The Carrion Crow smelleth powder, 'tis said, 
Like a soldier escheweth the taste of cold lead ; 
No jester, or mime, hath more marvellous wit, 
For, wherever he lighteth, he maketh a hit ! 

Caw ! Caw ! the Carrion Crow ! 

Big! Big! in the ground below! 



152 



THE HEADSMAN'S AXE. 



i. 

* The axe was sharp, and heavy as lead, 
As it touched the neck, off went the head ! 

Whir — whir — whir — whir ! 

'■ 

n - 

Queen Anne 1 laid her white throat upon the block, 

- 

Quietly waiting the fatal shock ; 

The axe it severed it right in twain, 

And so quick — so true — that she felt no pain ! 

Whir — whir — whir — &Mr 

in. 
Salisbury's Countess, she would not die 
As a proud dame should — decorously. 

1 Anne Boleyn. 



THE HEADSMAN'S AXE. 153 

Lifting my axe, I split her skull, 

And the edge for a month it was notched and dull. 

Whir — whir — whir — whir ! 

TV. 

Queen Catherine Howard gave me a fee, — 
A chain of gold — to die easily : 
And her costly present she did net rue, 
For I touched her head and away it flew ! 

Whir — whir — whir — whir ! 



morons jUIIahs. 



107 



THE CHRONICLE OF GARGANTUA : 

SHOWING HOW HE TOOK AWAY THE GREAT BELLS OP 
NOTRE-DAME. 



I. 

Grandgousier was a toper boon, as Rabelais will tell ye, 
Who, once upon a time, got drunk with his old wife Gargamelly: 
Right royally the bout began (no queen was more punctilious 
Than Gargamelle) on chitterlings, botargos, godebillios I 1 

Sing, Carimari, carimara ! golynoly, golynolo ! 

ii. 
They licked their lips, they cut their quips— a flask then each 

selected ; 
And with good Greek, as satin sleek, their gullets they humected. 

1 " Gaudebillaux sont grasses trippes de coiraux. Coiraux sont bceufa 
engresses a la criche, et pr£s guimaulx. Pres guimaulx sont qui portent 
herbc deux foys l'an."— Kab!elai8. 



158 THE CHRONICLE OF GARGANTUA. 

Rang stave and jest, the task they pressed— but ere away the 

wine went, 
Occurred most unexpectedly Queen Gargamelle's confinement ! 
Sing, Carimari, carimara ! golynoly, golynolo ! 

in. i 

No sooner was Gargantua born, than from his infant throttle 
Arose a most melodious cry to his nurse to bring the bottle ! 
Whereat Grandgousier much rejoiced — as it seemed, unto his 

thinking, 
A certain sign of a humour fine for most immoderate drinking ! 
Sing, Carimari, carimara ! golynoly, golynolo ! 

IV. 

Gargantua shot up, like a tower some city looking over ! 

His full-moon visage in the clouds, leagues off, ye might 

discover ! 
His gracious person he arrayed — I do not mean to laugh at ye — 
With a suit of clothes, and great trunk hose, of a thousand ells 

of taffety. 

Sing, Carimari, carimara ! golynoly, golynolo ! 



THE CHRONICLE OF GARGANTUA. 159 
V. 

Around his waist Gargantua braced a belt of silk bespangled, 
And from his hat, as a platter flat, a long blue feather dangled ; 
And down his hip, like the mast of ship, a rapier huge 

descended, 
With a dagger keen, stuck his sash between, all for ornament 

intended. 

Sing, Carimari, carimara ! golynoly, golynolo ! 

VI. 

So learned did Gargantua grow, that he talked like one whose 

turn is 
For logic, with a sophister, hight Tubal Holofernes. 
In Latin, too, he lessons took from a tutor old and seedy, 
Who taught the " Quid est," and the "Pars,"— one Jobelin de 

Brid6! 

Sing, Carimari, carimara ! golynoly, golynolo ! 

VII. 

A monstrous mare Gargantua rode — a black Numidian courser— 
A beast so droll, of filly or foal, was never seen before sir ! 






160 THE CHRONICLE OF GARGANTUA. 

Great elephants looked small as ants, by her side — her hoofs were 

cloven ! 
Her tail was like the spire at Langes — her mane like goat-beards 

woven ! 

Sing, Carimari, carimara ! golynoly, golynolo ! 

VIII. 

Upon this mare Gargantua rode until he came to Paris, 
Which, from Utopia's capital, as we all know, rather far is — 
The thundering bells of Notre Dame he took from out the steeple, 
And he hung them round his great mare's neck in the sight of 
all the people ! 

Sing, Carimari, carimara ! golynoly, golynolo ! 

IX. 

Now, what Gargantua did beside, I shall pass by without notices 

As well as the absurd harangue of that wiseacre Janotus ; 

But the legend tells that ? the thundering "bells Bragmardo brought 

away, sir, 
And that in the towers of Notre-Dame they are swinging to this 

day, sir ! 

Sing, Carimari, carimara ! golynoly, golynolo ! 



THE CHRONICLE OF GARGANTUA. 161 

X. 

Now the great deeds of Gargantua, — how his father's foes he 

followed — 
How pilgrims six, with their staves and scrips, in a lettuce-leaf 

he swallowed — 
How he got blind drunk with a worthy monk, Friar Johnny of 

the Funnels, — 
And made huge cheer, till the wine and beer flew about his camp 

in runnels — 

Sing, Carimari, carimara ! golynoly, golynolo ! 

XI. 

How he took to wife, to cheer his life, fat Badebec the moper ; 

And by her begat a lusty brat, Pantagruel the toper ! 

And did other things, as the story sings, too long to find a place 

here, 
Are they not writ, with matchless wit, by Alcofribas Nasier P 1 
Sing, Carimari, carimara ! golynoly, golynolo ! 

1 The anap^ram of Francois Eabelais. 



162 



MY OLD COMPLAINT 



ITS CAUSE AND CURE. 



I'm sadly afraid of my Old Complaint — 

Dying of thirst. — Not a drop I've drunk 
For more than an hour : "lis too long to wait. 
Wonderful how my spirits have sunk ! 
Provocation enough it is for a saint, 
To suffer so much from my Old Complaint ! 

II. 

What is it like, my Old Complaint ? 

I'll tell you anon, since you wish to know. 
It troubles me now, but it troubled me first, 

When I was a youngster, years ago ! 




* 



MY OLD COMPLAIN V. 
I'm sadly afraid of my old complaint 






t:< 



MY OLD COMPLAINT. 1G3 

Bubble-and-squeak is the image quaint ; — 
Of what it is like, my Old Complaint ! 



m. 

The Herring, in a very few minutes, we're told, 

Loses his life, ta'en out o' the sea; 

Rob me of Wine, and you will behold 

Just the same thing happen to me. 

Thirst makes the poor little Herring so faint ;- 
Thibst is the Cause of my Old Complaint ! 

rv. 

The bibulous Salmon is ill content, 

Unless he batheth his jowl in brine : 
And so, my spirits are quickly spent, 
Unless I dip my muzzle in Wine ! 

Myself in the jolly old Salmon I paint : — 
Wine is the Cure of my Old Complaint. 
Give me full bottles and no restraint, 
And little you'll hear of my Old Complaint ! 
m 2 



164 MY OLD COMPLAINT. 

V. 

I never indulge in fanciful stuff, 

Or idly prate, if my flagon be full ; 
Give me good Claret, and give me enough, 
And then my spirits are never dull. 
Give me good Claret and no constraint ; 
And I soon get rid of my Old Complaint ! 

Herring and Salmon my friends will acquaint 
With the Cause and the Cure of my Old Complaint 



165 



JOLLY NOSE.' 



Jolly nose ! the bright rubies that garnish thy tip 

Are dug from the mines of canary ; 
And to keep up their lustre I moisten my lip 

With hogsheads of claret and sherry. 

n. 

Jolly nose ! he who sees thee across a broad glass 

Beholds thee in all thy perfection ; 
And to the pale snout of a temperate ass 

Entertains the profoundest objection. 

1 Arranged by Mr. G. Herbert Eodwell. 



16G JOLLY NOSE. 

III. 

For a big-bellied glass is the palette I use, 

And the choicest of wine is my colour ; 
And I find that my nose takes the mellowest hues 

The fuller I fill it— the fuller ! 

IV. 

Jolly nose ! there are fools who say drink hurts the sight 

Such dullards know nothing about it ; 
'Tis better, with wine, to extinguish the light, 

Than live always in darkness, without it. 



167 



THE 

WINE DRINKER'S DECLARATION. 

TO ALL AND SUNDRY WHOM IT MAY CONCERN. 






I. 

The Toper who knows how to empty his can, 
Is not half so afraid of a highwayman, 

As he is of indifferent tipple : 
With the last a stout fellow may fight for his purse ; 
Of the other the consequence certain is worse, 

Down the throat if permitted to ripple. 

ii. 

If acetose claret I happen to sip, 

5 Tis my wish, as the beaker I dash from my lip, ♦ 

That my throat to a short span would dwindle ; 
But when I get hold of the vintage I prize, 
I care not, although it should shoot out in size, 

Until like a crane's neck it spindle. 



168 the wine-drinker's declaration. 

III. 

All wat'ry potations I let *em alone, 

And never will nse such/ until I am grown 

A Hermit, and dwell in a cavern ; 
But then the good Anchorite brandy must get 
(An anker, right often,) his whistle to wet, 

Or else he will sigh for the tavern. 

IV. 

My maxim is ever to drink of the best, 

And in that I resemble sound soakers at rest ; 

Our Fathers we always should follow : 
Old customs, old manners, we never should quit, 
Or the world will judge us, as some folks judge of it, 

And declare our professions are hollow. 



1G9 



WITH MY BACK TO THE FIKE. 



i. 

With my back to the fire, and my paunch to the table 
Lot me eat, — let me drink as long as I am able ; 
Let me eat, — let me drink whate'er I set my whims on, 
Until my nose is blue, and my jolly visage crimson. 






II. 
The doctor preaches abstinence, and threatens me with dropsy, 
But such advice, I needn't say, from drinking never stops ye : — 
The man who likes good liquor is of nature brisk and brave, 

boys, 
So drink away ! — drink while you may ! — there's no drinking in 

the grave, boys. 



170 



THE OLD WATER-DRINKER'S GRAVE. 



i. 

A stingy curmudgeon lies under the stone, 
Who ne'er had the heart to get mellow ; — 

A base water-drinker ! — I'm glad he is gone, 
We're well rid of the frowsy old fellow. 

XL 

You see how the nettles environ his grave ! 

Weeds only could spring from his body. 
While his heirs spend the money he fasted to save, 

In wine and in women — the noddy ! 



171 



CIDER OF DEVONSHIRE. 



i. 

Cider good of Devonshire — 
That just now is my desire. 
Let the blockheads laugh, who will, 
Quick, mine host, the flagon fill 
With the admirable juice, 
Which the apple-vats produce. 
Better 'tis, I will maintain, 
Than the stuff you call champagne. 
Thirst I feel — and my desire 
Is the drink of Devonshire. 

H. 
Cider fine ! thou hast the merit, 
With thy lightness and thy spirit, 



172 CIDER OF DEVONSHIRE. 

Not to mystify the brain ! 
You may fill, and fill again. 
Quaff as much as you require 
Of the drink of Devonshire. 

XXL 

'Tis the property of cider — 
Ne'er to make a breach the wider. 
With your friend you would not quarrel 
Were you to consume a barrel. 
Idle bickering and fooling 
Dwell not in this liquor cooling. 
Generous thoughts alone inspire 
Draughts of dulcet Devonshire. 

IV. 

Cider sparkling, cider placid, 
False it is to call it acid. 
To the light you hold the cup, 
How the atoms bright leap up ! 
How the liquid foams and bubbles, 
Ready to dispel your troubles ! 



CIDER OP DEVONSHIRE. 173 

How its fragrancy invites ! 
How its flavour fine delights, 
As the lip and throat it bites ! 
Pour it down ! you'll never tire 
Of delicious Devonshire ! 



174 



VENITE P0TEMUS.1 



i. 

Venite, jovial sons of Hesper, 
Who from matin nnto vesper, 

Roam abroad sub Domino ; 
Benedictine, Carmelite, 
Quaff we many a flask to-night 

Salutari nostro. 
If the wine be, as I think, 
Fit for reverend lips to drink 

Jubilemus ei. 
Ecce bonum vinum, venite potemus ! 

II. 
Hodie, when cups are full, 
Not a thought or care should dull 
Corda vestra. 

Adapted from an old French Imitatoyre Bachique. 



VENITE POTEMUS. 175 

Eat your fill — the goblet quaff, 
Sufficient is the wine thereof 

Secundum diem : — 
What care I — if huge in size 
My paunch should wax ? — it testifies 

Opera mea. 
Venite potemus ! 

in. 

Quadraginta years and more 

I've seen ; and jolly souls some score 

Proximus fui; 
And life throughout, have ever thought, 
That they, who tipple ale that's naught, 

Errant corde : 
Yea, in my choler waxing hot, 
I sware sour beer should enter not 

In requiem meam. 
Ecce bonum vinura, venite potemus ! 



176 



THE SCHOLAR'S LITANY. 



L 
From ail men, wno, counsel scorning, 
To the tavern hie at morning, 
With Latin base their talk adorning, 
Libera nos Domine. 



From all those, who night and day, 
Cards and raiment cast away, 
At cards and dice and other play, 
Libera nos Domine. 



177 



ALE AND SACK. 



i. 
Yotjr Gaul may tipple his thin, thin wine, 
And prate of its hue, and its fragrance fine, 
Shall never a drop pass throat of mine 

Again — again ! 
His claret is meagre (but let that pass), 
I can't say much for his hippocrass, 
And never more will I fill my glass 

With cold champagne. 

II. 

But froth me a flagon of English ale, 
Stout, and old, and as amber pale, 
Which heart and head will alike assail — 

Ale — ale be mine ! 

N 



178 ALE AND SACK. 

Or brew me a pottle of sturdy sack, 
Sherris and spice, with a toast to its back, 
And need shall be none to bid me attack 

That drink divine ! 



179 



DRUID. 



i. 
Thbough the world have I wandered wide, 
With never a wife, or a friend by my side, 
Save Druid— a comrade staunch and tried : — 

Troll on away ! 
Druid, my dog, is a friend in need, 
Druid, my dog, is a friend indeed, 
Druid, my dog, is of English breed ! 

More need I say ? 

—Troll on away ! 

H. 
Druid would perish my life to save, 
For {aithful Druid like fate I'd brave, 
The dog and his master shall find one grave, 

Troll on away ! 

N 2 



180 DRUID. 

Life ! I heed not its loss a feather ! 

And when black Atropos snaps my tether, 

She must cut twice — we'll die together ! 

No more I'll say. 

—Troll on away ! 



1S1 



THE THIRTY REQUISITES. 1 



Thibty points of perfection each judge understands, 

The standard of feminine beauty demand 

Three white : — and, without further prelude, we know 

That the skin, hands, and teeth, should be pearly as snow. 

Three black : — and our standard departure forbids 

From dark eyes, darksome tresses, and darkly-fringed lids. 

Three red : — and the lover of comeliness seeks 

For the hue of the rose in the lips, nails, and cheeks. 

Three long : — and of this you, no doubt, are aware ? 

Long the body should be, long the hands, long the hair. 

1 Imitated from a trentaine of beaux Sis, recorded in the Dames 
Qalantes. Brantome gives them in Spanish prose from the lips of a 
fair Toledan; they are, however, to be met with in an old French work 
anterior to our chronicler, entitled De la Louange et BeautS des 
Dames. The same maxims have been turned into Latin hexameters by 
Francois Corniger (an ominous name for a writer on such a subject), and 
into Italian verse by Vincentio Calmeta. 



182 THE THIRTY REQUISITES. 

Three short : — and herein nicest beanty appears — 
Feet short as a fairy's, short teeth, and short ears. 
Three large : — and remember this rule as to size, 
Embraces the shoulders, the forehead, the eyes. 
Three narrow : — a maxim to every man's taste — 
Circumference small in mouth, ankle, and waist. 
Three round : — and in this I see infinite charms — 
Rounded fulness apparent in leg, hip, and arms. 
Three fine : — and can aught the enchantment eclipse, 
Of fine tapering fingers, fine hair, and fine lips ? 
Three small : — and my thirty essentials are told — 
Small head, nose, and bosom, compact in its mould. 

Now the dame who comprises attractions like these, 
Will require not the cestus of Venus to please ; 
While he who has met with an union so rare, 
Has had better luck than has fall'n to my share. 



1S3 



LOVE'S HOMILY. 



Saint Atjgustin, one day, in a fair maiden's presence, 
Declared that pure love of the soul is the essence ! 
And that faith be it ever so firm and potential, 
If love be not its base, must prove uninfluential. 
Saint Bernard, likewise, has a homily left us — 
(Sole remnant of those, of which fate hath bereft us !) 
Where the good Saint confers, without any restriction, 
On those who love most, his entire benediction. 
Saint Ambrose, again, in his treatise, "Zte Virgine" 
To love one another is constantly urging ye ; 
And a chapter he adds, where he curses — not blesses — 
The ill-fated wight who no mistress possesses ! 
Wise De Lyra, hereon, makes this just observation, 
That the way to the heart is the way to salvation ; 
And the further from love — we're the nearer damnation ! 



184 love's homily. 

Besides, as remarks this profound theologian, 

(Who was perfectly versed in the doctrine Ainbrogian) — 

He, who loves not, is worse than the infamous set ye call 

Profane, unbelieving, schismatic, heretical ; 

For, if he the fire of one region should smother, 

He is sure to be scorched by the flames of the other ! 

And this is the reason, perhaps, why Saint Gregory 

(The Pope, who reduced the stout Arians to beggary) 

Averred — (keep this counsel for ever before ye) 

That the lover on earth has his sole purgatory ! 

Peroration. 

Let your minds then be wrapp'd in devout contemplation 
Of the precepts convey' d by this grave exhortation ; 
Be loving, beloved, and never leave off — it's 
The way to fulfil both the law and the prophets ! 



185 



A CHAPTER OF HIGHWAYMEN. 



Air — " Which nobody can deny 



/" 



* Of every rascal of every kind, 
The most notorious to my mind, 
Was the Cavalier Captain, gay Jemmy Hind I 1 

Which nobody can deny. 

But the pleasantest coxcomb among them all 

For lute, coranto, and madrigal, 

Was the galliard Frenchman, Claude Du-Val ! s 

Which nobody can deny. 

1 James Hind (the "Prince of Prigs"), a royalist captain of some dis- 
tinction, was hanged, drawn, and quartered, in 1652. Some good stories 
are told of him. He had the credit of robbing Cromwell, Bradshaw, and 
Peters. His discourse to Peters is particularly edifying. 

2 See Du-Val's life by Doctor Pope, or Leigh Hunt's brilliant sketch of 
him in The Indicator. 



186 A CHAPTER OF HIGHWAYMEN. 

And Tobygloak never a coach could rob, 

Could lighten a pocket or empty a fob, 

With a neater hand than Old Mob, Old Mob I 1 

Which nobody can deny. 

Nor did housebreaker ever deal harder knocks 
On the stubborn lid of a good strong box, 
Than the prince of good fellows, Tom Cox, Tom Cox ! 2 

Which nobody can deny. 

And blither fellow on broad highway, 
Did never with oath bid traveller stay, 
Than devil-may-care Will Holloway ! 3 

Which nobody can deny. 

1 We cannot say much in favour of thi3 worthy, whose name was 
Thomas Simpson. The reason of his sobriquet does not appear. He was 
not particularly scrupulous as to his mode of appropriation. One of his 
sayings is, however, on record. He told a widow whom he robbed, " that 
the end of a woman's husband begins in tears, but the end of her tears is 
another husband." " Upon which," says his chronicler, " the gentlewoman 
gave him about fifty guineas." 

2 Tom was a sprightly fellow, and carried his sprightliness to the gal- 
lows; for just before he was turned off he kicked Mr. Smith, the ordinary* 
and the hangman out of the cart — a piece of pleasantry which created, as 
may be supposed, no small sensation. 

3 Many agreeable stories are related of Holloway. His career, however, 



A CHAPTER OF HIGHWAYMEN; 187 

And in roguery nought could exceed the tricks 
Of Gettings and Grey, and the five or six, 
Who trod in the steps of bold Neddy Wicks I 1 

Which nobody can deny. 

Nor could any so handily break a lock 

As Sheppard, who stood on the Newgate dock, 

And nicknamed the jailers around him, " his flock F* 

Which nobody can deny. 



closed with a murder. He eontrived to break out of Newgate, but re- 
turned to witness the trial of one of his associates; when, upon the 
attempt of a turnkey, one Richard Spurling, to seize him, Will knocked 
him on the head in the presence of the whole court. For this offence he 
suffered the extreme penalty of the law in 1712. 

1 Wick's adventures with Madame Toly are highly diverting. It was 
this hero, not Turpin, as has been erroneously stated, who stopped the 
celebrated Lord Mohun. Of Gettings and Grey, and " the five or six," tho 
less said the better. 

2 One of Sheppard's recorded mots. When a Bible was pressed upon 
his acceptance by Mr. Wagstaff, the chaplain, Jack refused it, saying, 
that in his situation one file would be worth all the Bibles in the world." 
A gentleman who visited Newgate asked him to dinner ; Sheppard re- 
plied, " that he would take an early opportunity of waiting upon him." 
And we believe he kept his word. 



188 A CHAPTER OF HIGHWAYMEN. 

Nor did highwayman ever before possess, 

1'or ease, for security, danger, distress, 

Such a mare as Dick Tuepdj's Black Bess ! Black Bess ! 

Which nobody can deny. 



189 



THE RAPPAREES. 



Am—" The Groves of the Pool" 

Let the Englishman boast of his Turpins and Sheppards, as 

cocks of the walk, 
His Mulsacks, and Cheneys, and Swiftnecks 1 — it's all botheration 

and talk ; 
Compared with the robbers of Ireland, they don't come within 

half a mile, 
There never were yet any rascals, like those of my own native isle. 

First and foremost comes Redmond O'Hanlon, allowed the 

first thief of the world, 2 
That o'er the broad province of Ulster, the Rapparee banner 

unfurled ; 

1 A trio of famous High-Tobygloaks. Swiftneck was a captain of Irish 
dragoons, by the bye. 

2 Bedmosd O'Hanlow was the Eob Eoy of Ireland, and his adven- 
tures, many of which are exceedingly curious, would furnish as rich 



T90 THE RAPPAREES. 

Och ! he was an elegant fellow, as ever yon saw in your life, 
At fingering the blunderbuss trigger, or handling the throat- 
cutting knife. 

materials for the novelist, as they have already done for the ballad-mongers : 
some of them are, however, sufficiently well narrated in a pleasant little 
tome, published at Belfast, entitled The History of tire Bapparees. We 
are also in possession of a funeral discourse preached at the obsequies of the 
"noble and renowned" Henry St. John, Esquire,, who was unfortunately 
killed by the Tories (the Destructives of those days), in the induction to 
which we find some allusion to Redmond. After describing the thriving 
condition of the north of Ireland, about 1680, the Rev. Lawrence Power, 
the author of the sermon, says, " One mischief there was, which, indeed, 
in a great measure destroyed all, and that was, a pack of insolent bloody 
outlaws, whom they here call Tories. These had so riveted themselves 
in these parts, that by the interest they had among the natives, and some 
English, too, to their shame be it spoken, they exercise a kind of separate 
sovereignty in three or four counties in the north of Ireland. Redmond 
0'Ha.nlon is their chief, and has been these many years ; a cunning, 
dangerous fellow, who, though proclaimed an outlaw with the rest of his 
crew, and sums of money set upon their heads, yet he reigns still, and 
keeps all in subjection, so far that 'tis credibly reported he raises more 
in a year by contribution a-la-mode de France than the king's land taxes 
and chimney-money come to, and thereby is enabled to bribe clerks and 
officers, if not theib mastees, (!) and makes all too much truckle to 
him." Agitation, it seems, was not confined to our own days — but the 
" finest country in the world" has been, and ever will be the same. The 
old game is played under a new colour — the only difference being, that 
- > had Redmond lived in our time, he would, in all probability, not only 
have pillaged a county, but represented it in parliament. . The spirit of 
the Rapparee is still abroad — though we fear there is little of the Tory 



TIIE RAPPAREES. 191; 

And then such a dare-devil squadron as that which composed 

Redmond's tail ! 
Meel, Mactigh, Jack Reilly, Shan Bernagh, Phil Galloge, and 

Arthur O'Neal; 
Shure never were any boys like 'em, for rows, agitation, and sprees ; 
Not a rap did they leave in the country, and hence they were 

called ifojoparees. 1 

Next comes Power, the Great Tory 3 of Munster, a gentleman 

bora every inch, 
And strong Jack Macpherson of Leinster, a horse-shoe who 

broke at a pinch ; 
The last was a fellow so lively, not death e'en his courage could 

damp, 
Eor as he was led to the gallows, he played his own " march to 

the camp." 8 

left about it. We recommend this note to the serious consideration of 
the declaimers against the sufferings of the " six millions." (1834.) 

1 Here Titus was slightly in error. He mistook the cause for the effect. 
"They were styled Eapparees," Mr. Malone says, "from being armed with 
a half-pike, called by the Irish a rapparee" — Todd's Johnson. 

a Tory, so called from the Irish word Toree, give me your money. — 
Todd's Johnson. 

3 As he was carried to the gallows, Jack played a fine tune of his own 



192 THE RAPPAREES. 

Paddy Fleming, Dick Balf, and Mulhoni, I think are the 

next on my list, 
All adepts in the beautiful science of giving a pocket a twist ; 
Jemmy Carrick must follow his leaders, ould Purney who put 

in a huff, 
By dancing a hornpipe at Tyburn, and bothering the hangman 

for snuff. 

There's Paul Liddy, the curly-pate Tory, whose noddle was 

stuck on a spike, 
And Billy Delany, the "Songster" 1 we never shall meet with 

his like; 



composing, on the bagpipe, which retains the name of Macpherson's tune 
to this day. — History of the Bapparees. 

1 " Notwithstanding he was so great a rogue, Delany was a handsome 
portly man, extremely diverting in company, and could behave himself 
before gentlemen very agreeably. He had a political genius (not 
altogether surprising in so eminent a Tory), and would have made a great 
proficiency in learning if he had rightly applied his time. He composed 
several songs, and put tunes to them ; and by his skill in music gained the 
favour of some of the leading musicians in the country, who endeavoured 
to get him reprieved." — History of the Bapparees. The particulars of 
the Songster's execution are singular: — "When he was brought into 
court to receive sentence of death, the judge told him that he was informed 



THE RAPPAREES. 193 

For his neck by a witch was anointed, and warranted safe by her 

charm, 
No hemp that was ever yet twisted his wonderful throttle could 

harm. 

And lastly, there's Cahir na Cappul, the handiest rogue of 

them all, 
Who only need whisper a word, and your horse will trot out of 

his stall; 



he should say 'that there was not a rope in Ireland sufficient to hang him.' 
'But,' says he, 'I'll try if Kilkenny can't afford one strong enough to do 
your business; and if that will not do, you shall have another and 
another.' Then he ordered the sheriff to choose a rope, and Delany was 
ordered for execution the next day. The sheriff having notice of his 
mother boasting that no rope could hang her son (and pursuant to the 
judge's desire), provided two ropes, but Delany broke them one after 
the other ! The sheriff was then in a rage, and went for three bed cords, 
which he plaited three-fold together, and they did his business ! Yet the 
sheriff was afraid he was not dead; and in a passion, to make trial, 
stabbed him with his sword in the soles of his feet, and at last cut the 
rope. After he was cut down, his body was carried into the court-house, 
where it remained in the coffin for two days, standing up, till the judge 
and all the spectators were fully satisfied he was stiff and dead, and 
then permission was given to his friends to remove the corpse and bury 
it." — History of the Bapparees. 



194 THE RAPPAREES. 

Your tit is not safe in your stable, though you or your groom 

should be near, 
And devil a bit in the paddock, if Cahir gets hould of his ear. 

Then success to the Tories of Ireland, the generous, the gallant, 

the gay ! 
With them the best Rumpads 1 of England are not to be named 

the same day ! 
And were further proof wanting to show what precedence we 

take with our prigs, 
Recollect that our robbers are Tories, while those of your 

country are Whigs ! 

1 Highwaymen, as contradistinguished from footpads 







A ROMANY CHANT. 



195 



A ROMANY CHANT. 



In a box 2 of the Stone Jug 3 1 was born, 
Of a hempen widow 4 the kid forlorn, 

Take away. 
And my father, as I've heard say, 

Take away. 
Was a merchant of capers 5 gay, 
"Who cut his last fling with great applause, 

* Nix my doll pals, fake away. 

Who cut his last fling with great applause, 7 
To the tune of a " hearty choke with caper sauce." 
Take away. 

i Set to music by Mr. Bodwell. 2 Cell. 3 Newgate. 

* A woman whose husband has been hanged. 5 £_ dancing-master. 

• " Nothing, comrades; on, on," supposed to be addressed by a thief to 
his confederates. 

7 Thus Victor Hugo, in " Le Dernier Jour (Fun Condamne," makc6 an 
imprisoned felon sing : — 

" Je le ferai danser une danse 
Ou il n'y a pas de plancher." 
2 



196 A ROMANY CHANT. 

The knucks in quod 1 did my schoolmen play, 

Fake away. 
And put me up to the time of day ; 
Until at last there was none so knowing, 

Nix my doll pals, fake 

Until at last there was none so knowing, 
No such sneaksman 2 or buzgloak 3 going. 

Fake away. 
Fogies 4 and fawnies 5 soon went their way, 

Fake away. 
To the spout 6 with the sneezers 7 in grand array. 
No dummy hunter 8 had forks 9 so fly; 

Nix my doll pals, fake away. 

No dummy hunter had forks so fly. 
No knuckler 10 so deftly could fake a cly, 11 

Fake away. 

Thieves in prison. 2 Shoplifter. 8 Pickpocket. 

4 Handkerchiefs. 6 Rings. 6 To the pawnbroker. 

7 Snuff-boxes. 8 Pickpocket. 

9 The two fore-fingers used in picking a pocket. 

10 Pickpocket. n Pick a pocket. 



A ROMANY CHANT. 197 

No slour'd hoxter 1 my snipes 2 could stay, 

Fake away. 
None knap a reader 3 like me in the lay. 
Soon then I mounted in swell-street high. 

Nix my doll pals, fake away. 

Soon then I mounted in swell-street high, 
And sported my flashest toggery. 4 

Fake away, 
Firmly resolved I would make my hay, 

Fake away. 
While Mercury's star shed a single ray ; 
And ne'er was there seen such a dashing prig, 5 

Nix my doll pals, fake away. 

And ne'er was there seen such a dashing prig, 
With my strummel faked in the newest twig. 6 
Fake away. 

1 No inside coat-pocket, buttoned up. 

s Scissors. 3 steal a pocket-book. 

4 Best made clothes. 5 Thief. 

fi "With my hair dressed in the first fashion. 



198 A ROMANY CHANT. 

With my fawnied famms, 1 and my onions gay, 2 

Fake away ; 
My thimble of ridge, 3 and my driz kemesa ; 4 
All my togs were so niblike 5 and splash, 

Nix my doll palls, fake away. 

All my togs were so niblike and splash, 
Readily the qneer screens I then could smash ; 6 

Fake away, 
But my nuttiest lady one fine day, 

Fake away, 
To the beaks 7 did her fancy man betray, 
And thus was I bowled out at last. 8 

Nix my doll pals, fake away. 

And thus was I bowled out at last, 
And into the jug for a lag was cast; 9 

Fake away. 



i With several rings on my hands. ' 2 Seal'. 

3 Gold watch. 4 Laced shirt. 

3 Gentlemanlike. 6 Easily then forged notes could I pass. 

J Police. 8 Taken at length. 

9 Cast for Transportation. 



A ROMANY CHANT. 199 

But I slipped my darbies 1 one morn in May, 

Fake away. 
And gave to the dubsman 2 a holiday. 
And here I am, pals, merry and free, 
A regular rollicking romany. 3 

Nix my doll pals, fake away. 

1 Fetters. * Turnkey. 3 Gipsy. 



200 



OLIVER WHIDDLES ! 



i. 

Oliver whiddles — the tattler old ! 
Telling what best had been left untold. 
Oliver ne'er was a friend of mine ; 
All glims I hate that so brightly shine. 
Give me a night black as hell, and then 
See what I'll show to you, my merry men. 

ii. 

Oliver whiddles ! — who cares — who cares, 

If down upon us he peers and stares ? 

Mind him who will, with his great white face, 

Boldly I'll ride by his glim to the chase; 

Give him a Rowland, as loudly as ever 

Shout, as I show myself, " Stand and deliver !" 




WILL DAVT"ES AND DICK TURPIN. 



201 



WILL DAVIES AND DICK TURPIN. 



Hodifc mihi, crks tibi. — Saint Augustin . 

I. 

* One night when mounted on my mare, 
To Bagshot Heath I did repair, 
And saw Will Davis hanging there, 
Upon the gibbet bleak and bare, 

With a rustified, fustijied, mustijied air I 

II. 

Within his chains bold Will looked blue, 
Gone were hi3 sword and snappers too, 
Which served their master well and true ; 
Says I, " Will Davies, how are you ? 

With your rustified, fustijied, musttfied air !" 



202 WILL DA VIES AND DICK TURPIN. 

„, 

Says he, " Dick Turpin, here I be, 
Upon the gibbet as you see ; 
/ take the matter easily ; 
You'll have your turn as well as me, 
With your ichistle-me, pistol-me, cut-my-throat air t 

IV. 

Says I, " That's very true, my lad ; 
Meantime, with pistol and with prad, 
I'm quite contented as I am, 

And heed the gibbet not a d n ! 

With its rustified, /testified, mustified air P 

v. 

For never more shall Bagshot see 
A highwayman of such degree, 
Appearance, and gentility, 
As Will, who hangs upon the tree. 

With his rustified, fustijied, mustified air I 



203 



THE FOUft CAUTIONS. 



1. 

Pay attention to these cautions four, 
And through life you will need little more, 
Should you dole out your days to threescore 
Beware of a pistol before ! 

Before! before! 
Beware of a pistol before ! 

II. 

And when backwards his ears are inclined, 
And his tail with his ham is combined, 
Caution two you will bear in your mind : — 
Beware of a prancer behind ! 

Behind! behind! 
Beware of a prancer behind ! 



204 THE FOUR CAUTIONS. 

III. 

Thirdly, when in the park yon may ride, 
On your best bit of blood, sir, astride, 
Chatting gay to your old friend's young bride : — 
Beware of a coach at the side ! 

At the side ! at the side ! 
Beware of a coach at the side ! 

IV. 

Lastly, whether in purple or grey, 
Canter, ranter, grave, solemn, or gay, 
Whate'er he may do or may say : — 
Beware of a priest every way ! 

Every way ! every way ! 
Beware of a priest every way ! 



205 



THE DOUBLE CROSS. 

BY A MEMBER OF THE P. C. 



I. 

Though all of us have heard of crost fights, 
And certain gains, by certain lost fights ; 
I rather fancies that it's news, 
How in a mill, both men should lose; 
For vere the odds are thus made even. 
It plays the dickens with the steven j 1 
Besides, against all rule they're sinning, 
Vere neither has no chance of vinning. 

Ri, tol y lot, 8fc> 

II. 
Two milling coves, each vide avake, 
Vere backed to fight for heavy stake ; 

1 Money. 



206 THE DOUBLE CROSS. 

But in the mean time, so it vos, 

Both kids agreed to play a cross ; 

Bold came each buffer 1 to the scratch) 

To make it look a tightish match; 

They peeled 2 in style, and bets were making, 

'Tvoa six to four, but few were taking. 

Ri, tot, lol, fyc. 

nr. 

Quite cautiously the mill began, 
For neither knew the other's plan ; 
Each cull 3 completely in the dark, 
Of vot might be his neighbour's mark ; 
Resolved his Jibbing 4 not to mind, 
Nor yet to pay him back in kind ; 
So on eacli other kept they tout* 
And sparred a bit, and dodged about. 

Ri, toil, lol, 8fc. 

1 Man. 2 Stripped. 3 Fellow. 

4 A particular kind of pugilistic punishment. 

5 Kept each an eye upon the other. 



THE DOUBLE CROSS. 207 

IV. 

Vitli mawleys*- raised, Tom bent his back, 

As if to plant a heavy thwack : 

Vile Jem, vith neat left-handed stopper, 

Straight threatened Tommy with a topper. 

'Tis all my eye ! no claret flows, 

No facers sound — no smashing blows. 

Five minutes pass, yet not a hit, 

How can it end, pals ? — Vait a bit. 

Ri, tol, lot, 4-c. 

v. 

Each cove vos teazed with double duty, 

To please his backers, yet play booty ; a 

Ven, luckily for Jem, a teller 

Vos planted right upon his smeller ; 

Down dropped he, stunned ; ven time was called, 

Seconds in vain the seconds bawled; 

The mill is o'er, the crosser crost, 

The loser's von, the vinner's lost ! 

Ri, tol, lol, fyc. 
1 Hands. * Deceive them. 



208 



THE MODERN GREEK. 

(NOT TRANSLATED FROM THE ROMAIC.) 



Come, gemmen, name, and make your game, 

See, round the ball is spinning. 
Black, red, or blue, the colours view, 
Tin, deux, cinque, 'tis beginning. 
Then make your game, 
The colour name, 
While round the ball is spinning. 

This sleight of hand my flat shall land, 

While covered by my bonnet, 1 
I plant my ball, and boldly call, 
Come make your game upon it ! 
Thus rat-a-tat ! 
I land my flat ! 
'Tis black — not red — is winning. 
1 Accomplice. 



THE MODERN GREEK. 209 

At gay roulette was never met 

A lance like mine for bleeding ! 

I'm ne'er at fault, at nothing halt, 

All other legs preceding. 

To all awake, 

I never shake 

A mag x unless I nip it. 

Blind-hookey sees how well I squeeze 
The well-packed cards in shuffling. 
Ecarte, whist, I never missed, 
And nick the broads* while ruffling. 
Mogul or loo, 
The same I do, 
I'm down to trumps as trippet \ 

French hazard ta'en, / nick the main, 

Was ne'er so prime a caster. 
No crabs for me, I'm fly, d'ye see ; 

The bank shall change its master. 

1 A farthing. * Cards. 



210 THE MODERN GREEK* 

Seven quatre, trots, 
The stakes are high ! 
Ten mains ! ten mains are mine, pals ! 

At Rouge et Noir, yon hellite 1 choir 
I'll make no bones of stripping ; 
One glorious coup for me shall do, 
While they may deal each pip in. 
Trente-un-apres 
Ne'er clogs my way ; 
The game — the game's divine, pals. 

At billiards set I make my bet, 

I'll score and win the rub, pals ; 
I miss my cue, my hazard, too, 
But yet my foe I'll drub, pals. 
That cannon-twist, 
I ne'er had missed, 
Unless to suit my views, pals. 

To make all right, the match look tight, 
This trick, you know, is done, pals ; 
1 Qy. elite.— Pbinteb's Devil. 



THE MODERN GREEK. 211 

But now be gay, I'll show my play — 
Hurrah ! the game is won, pals, 
No hand so fine, 
No wrist like mine, 
No odds I e'er refuse, pals. 

Then choose your game ; whate'er you name, 

To me alike all offers ; 
Chick-hazard, whist, whate'er you list, 
Replenish quick your coffers. 
Thus, rat-a-lat ! 
I land my flat! 
To every purse I speak, pals. 

Cramped boxes 'ware, all's right and fair, 

Barred balls I bar when goaded j 
The deuce an ace is out of place ! 
The deuce a die is loaded! 

Then make your game, 
Your colour name ; 
Success attend the Greek, pals. 

p 2 



212 



PLEDGE OF THE HIGHWAYMAN. 



Come, fill up a bumper to Eve's fairest daughters, 
Who have lavished their smiles on the brave and the free ; 

Toast the sweethearts of Dudley, Hind, Wilmot, and Waters, 1 
Whate'er their attraction, whate'er their degree. 



ii. 

Pledge ! pledge in a bumper, each kind-hearted maiden, 
Whose bright eyes were dimmed at the highwayman's fall ; 

Who stood by the gallows with sorrow o'erladen, 
Bemoaning the fate of the gallant Du-Yal ! 

1 Four celebrated highwaymen, all rejoicing in the honourable distinc- 
tion of captain. 






PLEDGE OF THE HIGHWAYMAN. 213 

III. 

Here's to each lovely lass chance of war may bring near one, 
Whom, with courtier -like manner, politely we stop ; 

And to whom, like the lover addressing his dear one, 
In terms of entreaty the question we pop. 

IV. 

How oft, in such case, rosy lips have proved sweeter 
Than the rosiest book ; — bright eyes saved a bright ring ; 

While that one other kiss has brought off a repeater, 
And a bead as & favour — the favourite string. 

v. 

With our hearts ready rifled, each pocket we rifle, 
With the pure flame of chivalry stirring our breasts ; 

Life's risk for our mistress's praise is a trifle ; 
And each purse as a trophy our homage attests. 

VI. 

Then toss off your glasses to all girls of spirit, 

Ne'er with names, or with number, your memories vex : 

Our toast, boys, embraces each woman of merit, 
And, for fear of omission, we'll drink the whole sex ! 



214 



THE GAME OF HIGH TOBY. 



i. 
Now Oliver 1 puts his black nightcap on, 

And every star its glim 2 is hiding, 
And forth to the heath is the scampsman 3 gone, 

His matchless cherry-black 4 prancer riding ; 
Merrily over the common he flies, 

Fast and free as the rush of rocket, 
His crape-covered vizard drawn over his eyes, 

His tol 5 by his side, and his pops 6 in his pocket. 

CHORUS. 

Then who can name 

So merry a game, 

As the game of all games — high toby f 1 

1 The moon. a Light. 3 Highwayman. 

4 "Cherry-coloured — black; there being black cherries as well as 
red."— Gkose. 

5 Sword. 6 Pistols. 7 Highway-robbery. 






THE CAME OF HIGH TOBY. 215 

II. 

The traveller hears him, away ! away ! 

Over the wide wide heath he scurries ; 
He heeds not the thunderbolt summons to stay, 

But ever the faster and faster he hurries. 
But what daisy-cutter can match that black-tit ? 

He is caught — he must " stand and deliver;" 
Then out with the dummy, 1 and off with the bit, 8 

Oh ! the game of high toby for ever ! 

CHORUS. 

Then who can name 

So merry a game, 

As the game of all games — high toby / 

m. 

Believe me there is not a game, my brave boys, 
To compare with the game of high toby ; 

No rapture can equal the tobyman's joys, 
To blue devils, blue plumbs 3 give the go-by ! 

Pocket-book. 2 Money. 3 Bullet*. 



21 G THE GAME OF HIGH TOBY. 

And what if, at length, boys, he come to the crap l 1 
Even rack punch has some bitter in it, 

For the mare-with-three-legs, 2 boys, I care not a rap, 
'Twill be over in less than a minute ! 

GRAND CHORUS. 

Then hip, hurrah I 
Fling care away ! 
Hurrah for the game of high toby! 

i The gallows. 2 Ditto. 



217 



THE SCAMPSMAK 



Quis vere rex ?— Seneca. 

* Theke is not a king, should you search the world round, 
So blithe as the king of the road to be found ; 
His pistol's his sceptre, his saddle his throne, 
Whence he levies supplies, or enforces a loan. 

Berry down. 

To this monarch the highway presents a wide field, 
Where each passing subject a tribute must yield; 
His palace (the tavern !) receives him at night, 
Where sweet lips and sound liquor crown all with delight, 

Berry down. 

The soldier and sailor, both robbers by trade, 
Full soon on the shelf, if disabled, are laid : 



218 THE SCAMPSMAN. 

The one gets a patch, and the other a peg, 
But, while luck lasts, the highwayman shakes a loose leg ! 

Derry down. 

Most fowls rise at dawn, but the owl wakes at e'en, 
And a jollier bird can there nowhere be seen ; 
Like the owl, our snug scampsman his snooze takes by day, 
And, when night draws her curtain, scuds after his prey ! 

Derry down. 

As the highwayman's life is the fullest of zest, 
So the highwayman's death is the briefest and best ; 
He dies not as other men die, by degrees 1 
X But at once ! without wincing, and quite at his ease ! 

Derry down. 



219 



THE KNIGHT OF MALTA : 



A CANTERBURY TALE. 



Come list to me, and you shall have, without a hem or haw, sirs, 
A Canterbury pilgrimage, much better than old Chaucer's, 
'Tis of a hoax I once played off, upon that city clever, 
The memory of which, I hope, will stick to it for ever. 

With my coal black beard, and purple cloak, 
jack-boots, and broad-brimmed castor, 

Eey-ho ! for the knight of Malta ! 

1 This ballad describes pretty accurately the career of an extraordinary 
individual, who, in the lucid intervals of a half-crazed understanding, 
palmed himself off upon the good folk of Canterbury, in the year 1832, as 
a certain " Sia William Peect Honeywood Couetenay, Knight 
op Malta;" and contrived — for there was considerable "method 
in his madness" — to support the deception during a long period. 
Imposture and credulity are of all ages; and the Courtenays of 



220 THE KNIGHT OP MALTA. 

To execute my purpose, in the first place you must know, sirs, 
My locks I let hang down my neck — my beard and whiskers 

grow, sirs; 
A purple cloak I next clapped on, a sword tagged to my side, 

sirs, 
And mounted on a charger black, I to the town did ride, sirs. 

With my coal-black beard, fyc. 

our own time are rivalled by the Tofts and Andres of the last 
century. 

The following account of the soi-disant Sir William Couetenay is 
extracted from " An Essay on his Character, and Reflections on his Trial," 
published at the theatre of his exploits : — " About Michaelmas last it was 
rumoured that an extraordinary man was staying at the Rose Inn of this 
city (Canterbury), who passed under the name of Count Rothschild, but 
had been recently known in London by the name of Thompson ! This 
would have been sufficient to excite attention, had not other incidents 
materially added to the excitement. His costume and countenance 
denoted foreign extraction, while his language and conversation showed 
that he was well acquainted with almost every part of this kingdom. He 
was said to live with singular frugality, notwithstanding abundant samples 
of wealth, and professions of an almost unlimited command of money. 
He appeared to study retirement, if not concealment, although subsequent 
events have proved that society of every grade, beneath the middle class, 
is the element in which he most freely breathes. He often decked his 
person with a fine suit of Italian clothing, and sometimes with the more 
gay and imposing costume of the Eastern nations, yet these foreign habits 
were for months scarcely visible beyond the limits of the inn of his abode, 



THE KNIGHT OP MALTA. 221 

Two pages were there by my side, upon two little ponies, 

Decked out in scarlet uniform as spruce as macaronies ; 

Caparisoned my charger was, as grandly as his master, 

And o'er my long and curly locks I wore a broad-brimmed 

castor. 

With my coal-black beard, fyc. 

and the chapel not far from it, in which he was accustomed to offer his 
Sabbath devotions. This place was the first to which he made a public 
and frequent resort ; and though he did not always attempt to advance 
towards the uppermost seat in the synagogue, he attracted attention from 
the mere singularity of his appearance. 

" Such was the eccentric, incongruous individual who surprised our city 
by proposing himself as a third candidate for its representation, and who 
created an entertaining contest for the honour, long after the sitting 
candidates had composed themselves to the delightful vision of an un- 
expensive and unopposed return. The notion of representing the city 
originated beyond all doubt in the fertile brain of the man himself. It 
would seem to have been almost as sudden a thought in his mind, as it 
was a sudden and surprising movement in the view of the city ; nor have 
we been able to ascertain whether his sojourn at the Rose was the cause 
or the effect of his offering to advocate our interests in parliament — 
whether he came to the city with that high-minded purpose, or subse- 
quently formed the notion, when he saw, or thought he saw, an opening 
for a stranger of enterprise like himself. 

» • » » * 

'* As the county election drew on, we believe between the nomination 
on Barham Downs and the voting in the cattle market of the city, the 
draught of a certain handbill was sent to a printer of this city, with a 



222 THE KNIGHT OF MALTA. 

The people all flocked forth, amazed to see a man so hairy, 
Oh ! such a sight had ne'er before been seen in Canterbury ! 
My flowing robe, my flowing beard, my horse with flowing mane, 

sirs! 
They stared — the days of chivalry they thought were come 



again, sirs ! 



With my coal-black beard, 8fc. 



request that he would publish it without delay. Our readers will not be 
surprised that he instantly declined the task ; but as we have obtained 
possession of the copy, and its publication can now do no injury to any 
one, we entertain them with a sight of this delectable sample of Courtenay 
prudence and politeness. 

" ' O yes ! O yes ! O yes ! I, Lord Viscount "William Courtenay, of 
Powderham Castle, Devon, do hereby proclaim Sir Thomas Tylden, Sir 
Brook Brydges, Sir Edward Knatchbull, and Sir William Cosway, for 
cowards, unfit to represent, or to assist in returning members of parlia- 
ment to serve the brave men of Kent. 

" • Percy Honeywood Courtenay, of Hales and Evington Place, Kent, 
and Knight of Malta. 

" ' Any gentleman desiring to know the reasons why Lord Courtenay 
so publicly exposes backbiters, any man of honour shall have satisfaction 
at his hands, and in a public way, according to the laws of our land — trial 
by combat ; when the Almighty God, the Lord of Hosts is his name, can 
decide the ' truth,' whether it is a libel or not. I worship truth as my 
God, and will die for it — and upon this we will see who is strongest, God 
or man.' 

" It is a coincidence too curious to be overlooked, that this doughty 



THE KNIGHT OP MALTA. 223 

I told them a long rigmarole romance, that did not halt a 

Jot, that they beheld in me a real knight of Malta ! 

Tom a Becket had I sworn I was, that saint and martyr 

hallowed, 
I doubt not just as readily the bait they would have swallowed. 

With my coal-black beard, SfC. 

champion of truth should so soon have removed himself from public life 
by an act of deliberate and wanton perjury. We never read any of his 
rhapsodies, periodical or occasional, till the publication of tins essay 
imposed the self-denying task upon us ; but now we find that they abound 
in strong and solemn appeals to the truth; in bold proclamations that 
truth is his palladium ; in evidences that he writes and raves, that he 
draws his sword and clenches his fist, that he expends his property and the 
property of others committed to his hands, in no cause but that of truth ! 
His famous periodical contains much vehement declamation iu defence of 
certain doctrines of religion, which he terms the truth of the sublime 
system of Christianity, and for which alone he is content to live, and also 
willing to die. All who deviate from his standard of truth, whether 
theological or moral, philosophical or political, he appears to consider as 
neither fit for life or death. Now it is a little strange, his warmest 
followers being witnesses, that such an advocate of truth should have 
become the willing victim of falsehood, the ready and eager martyr of the 
worst form of falsehood — perjury. 

" The decline of his influence between the city and county elections has 
been partly attributed, and not without reason, to the sudden change in 
his appearance from comparative youth to advancing, if not extreme age. 
On the hustings of the city he shone forth in all the dazzling lustre of an 



224 THE KNIGHT OF MALTA. 

I rode about, and speechified, and everybody gullied, 

The tavern-keepers diddled, and the magistracy bullied : 

Like puppets were the townsfolk led in that show they call a 

raree ; 
The Gotham sages were a joke to those of Canterbury. 

With my coal-black beard, fyc. 



Oriental chief; and such was the effect of gay clothing on the meridian of 
life, that his admirers, especially of the weaker sex, would insist upon it 
that he had not passed the beautiful spring-time of May. There were, 
indeed, some suspicious appearances of a near approach to forty, if not two 
or three years beyond it ; but these were fondly ascribed to his foreign 
travels in distant and insalubrious climes ; he had acquired his duskiness 
of complexion, and his strength of feature and violence of gesture, and 
his profusion of beard in Egypt and Syria, in exploring the catacombs 
of the one country, and bowing at the shrines of the other. On the 
other hand, the brilliancy of his eye, the melody of his voice, and 
the elasticity of his muscles and limbs, were sufficient arguments in 
favour of his having scarcely passed the limit that separates manhood 
from youth. 

" All doubts on these points were removed, when the crowd of his fair 
admirers visited him at the retirement of his inn, in the intervals of his 
polling. These sub Rosa interviews — we allude to the name of the inn, 
and not to anything like privacy there, which the very place and number 
of the visitors altogether precluded — convinced them that he was even a 
younger and livelier man than his rather boisterous behaviour in the hall 
would allow them to hope. Infact,he was nowinstalledby acclamation Knight 
of Canterbury as well as Malta, and King of Kent, as well as Jerusalem! 



THE KNIGHT OF MALTA. 225 

The theatre I next engaged, where I addressed the crowd, sirs, 
And on retrenchment and reform, I spouted long and loud, sirs ; 
On tithes, and on taxation, I enlarged with skill and zeal, sirs, 
Who so able as a Malta knight, the malt-tax to repeal, sirs ? 

With my coal-black beard, 8fc. 

As a candidate I then stepped forth to represent their city, 
And my non-election to that place was certainly a pity ; 
For surely I the fittest was, and very proper, very, 
To represent the wisdom and the wit of Canterbury. 

With my coal-black beard, fyc. 

At the trial of some smugglers next, one thing I rather queer 

did, 
And the justices upon the bench I literally bearded ; 

It became dangerous then to whisper a syllable of suspicion against his wealth 
or rank, his wisdom or beauty; and all who would not bow down before this 
golden image were deemed worthy of no better fate than Shadrach, 
Meschech, and Abednego — to be cast into a burning fiery furnace." 



As a sequel to the foregoing story, it rony be added, that the Knight of 
Malta became the inmate of a lunatic asjJum; and on his liberation was 
shot at the head of a band of Kentish hinds, whom he had deluded into 
the belief that he was the Messiah ! 



226 THE KNIGHT OF MALTA. 

Eor I swore that I some casks did see, though proved as clear a3 

day, sirs, 
That I happened at the time to be some fifty miles away, sirs ! 

With my coal-black beard, fyc. 

The last assertion, I must own, was somewhat of a blunder, 
And for perjury indicted they compelled me to knock under ; 
To my prosperous career this slight error put a stop, sirs, 
And thus crossed, the knight of Malta was at length obliged to 
hop, sirs ! 

With his coal-black beard, and purple cloak, 
jack-boots, and broad-brimmed castor. 

Good-bye to the knight of Malta ! 



227 



SAINT GILES'S BOWL.' 



i. 

Where Saint Giles's church stands, once a lazar-house stood ; 
And, chained to its gates, was a vessel of wood ; 
A broad-bottomed bowl, from which all the fine fellows, 
Who passed by that spot on their way to the gallows, 

Might tipple strong beer 
Their spirits to cheer, 
And drown in a sea of good liquor all fear ! 
For nothing the transit to Tyburn beguiles, 
So well as a draught from the Bowl of Saint Giles! 

1 At the hospital of St. Giles for Lazars, the prisoners conveyed from 
the City of London towards Tyburn, there to be executed for treasons, 
felonies, or other trespasses, were presented with a Bowl of Ale, thereof 
to drink, as their last refreshing in this life. — Strype's Stow. Book ix. ch. iii. 

Q2 



228 saint Giles's bowl. 

ii, 
By many a highwayman many a draught 
Of nutty-brown ale at Saint Giles's was quaft, 
Until the old lazar-house chanced to fall down, 
And the broad-bottom'd bowl was removed to the Crown, 

Where the robber may cheer 
His spirits with beer, 
And drown in a sea of good liquor all fear ! 
For nothing tJie transit to Tyburn beguiles, 
So well as a draught from the Bowl of Saint Giles ! 

in. 
There Mulsack and Swiftneck, both prigs from their birth, 
Old Mob and Tom Cox took their last draught on earth : 
There Randal, and Shorter, and Whitney pulled up, 
And jolly Jack Joyce drank his finishing cup ! 

For a can of ale calms 
A highwayman's qualms, 
And makes him sing blithely his dolorous psalms ! 
For nothing the transit to Tyburn beguiles, 
So well as a draught from the Bowl of St. Giles! 



saint Giles's bowl. 229 

IV. 

When gallant Tom Sheppard to Tyburn was led, 
" Stop the cart at the Crown — stop a moment," he said ; 
He was offered the Bowl, but he left it and smiled, 
Crying " Keep it till called for by Jonathan Wild ! 

" The rascal one day 
Will pass by this way, 
And drink a full measure to moisten his clay ! 
And never will Bowl of St. Giles have beguiled 
Such a thorough-paced scoundrel ^Jonathan Wild!'* 

v. 

Should it e'er be my lot to ride backwards that way, 
At the door of the Crown I will certainly stay ; 
I'll summon the landlord — I'll call for the Bowl, 
And drink a deep draught to the health of my soul ! 

Whatever may hap, 
Fit taste of the tap, 
To keep up my spirits when brought to the crap ! 
For nothing the transit to Tyburn beguiles, 
So well as a draught from the Bowl of St. Giles I 



230 



THE NEWGATE STONE.' 



i. 

When Claude du Val was in Newgate thrown, 
He carved his name on the dungeon stone ; 
Quoth a dubsman, who gazed on the shattered wall, 
" You have carved your epitaph, Claude du Val, 

With your chisel so fine, tra la 



/j> 



II. 
Du "Val was hanged, and the next who came 
On the selfsame stone inscribed his name ; 
"Aha!" quoth the dubsman, with devilish glee, 
" Tom Waters, your doom is the triple tree ! 

With your chisel so fine, tra la /" 

1 Set to music by Mr. G. Herbert Eodwell. 



THE NEWGATE STONE. 231 

III. 

Within that dungeon lay Captain Bew, 
Rumbold and Whitney — a jolly crew ! 
All carved their names on the stone, and all 
Share the fate of the brave Du Val ! 

With their chisel so fine, tra la ! 

rv. 

Full twenty highwaymen blithe and bold, 
Rattled their chains in that dungeon old : 
Of all that number there 'scaped not one 
Who carved his name on the Newgate Stone, 

With his chisel so fine, tra la ! 



232 



THE CARPENTER'S DAUGHTER. 



i. 

The carpenter's daughter was fair and free — 
Eair, and fickle, and false was she ! 
She slighted the journeyman (meaning me /) 
And smiled on a gallant of high degree. 

Degree! degree! 
She smiled on a gallant of high degree. 

II. 

When years were gone by, she began to rue 
Her love for the gentleman (meaning you /), 
" I slighted the journeyman fond," quoth she, 
" But where is my gallant of high degree ? 
Where? where? 
Oh ! where is my gallant of high degree ?" 



233 



W E N WOOD. 



Once on a time, as I've heard tell, 
In Wych-street, Owen Wood did dwell; 
A carpenter he was by trade, 
And money, I believe he made. 

With a foodie dool 

II. 

This carpenter he had a wife, 
The ceaseless torment of his life ; 
Who, though she did her husband scold, 
Loved well a woollen-draper bold. 

With a foodie doo ! 



234 OWEN WOOD. 

III. 
Now Owen Wood had one fair child, 
Unlike her mother, meek and mild ; 
Her love the draper strove to gain, 
But she repaid him with disdain. 

With a foodie doo ! 

rv. 
In vain he fondly urged his suit, 
And, all in vain, the question put ; 
She answered, — " Mr. William Kneebone, 
Of me, sir, you shall never be bone." 

With a foodie doo ! 



v. 

" Thames Darrell has my heart alone, 
A noble youth, e'en you must own : 
And, if from him my bve could stir, 
Jack Sheppard I should much prefer." 

With a foodie doo ! 



235 



KING FROG AND QUEEN CRANE. 



Old King Frog, he swore bcgar ! 

Croakledom cree ! — croak ledora croo ! 
That he with Queen Crane would go to war, 

Blusterem boo ! — thrusterem through ! 
With that, he summon' d his fiercest Frogs, 
With great cock'd hats, and with queues like logs, 
And says he, "Thrash these Cranes, you ugly dogs! 

Sing, Ventre saint-gris !— Parbleu !" 

To fight they went ; but alack ! full soon, 
Croakledom cree ! — croakledom croo ! 

Messieurs the Frogs they changed their tune, 
Of blusterem boo ! — thrusterem through ! 



23G KING FROG AND QUEEN CRANE. 

For Queen Crane had a leader stout and strong, 
With a bill like a fire-spit, six feet long, 
And the Eroggies he gobbled up all day long, 
With their u Ventre-saint-gris I — Parbleu!" 



237 



MARLBROOK TO THE WARS IS COMING. 



Marlbrook to the wars is coining ! 
I fancy I hear his drumming ; 
'Twill put an end to the mumming 

Of our priest-ridden Monarque ! 
For the moment he enters Flanders, 
He'll scare all our brave commanders, 
They'll fly like so many ganders, 

Disturb'd by a mastiff's bark. 

He comes ; and at Schellenberg licks 'em, 
At Blenheim next, how he kicks 'em, 
And on Ramilies' plain how he sticks 'em 

With bay'net to the ground ! 
For, says he, " Those saucy Mounseers, 
I'll thoroughly — thoroughly trounce, sirs, 
As long as there's an ounce, sirs, 

Of powder to be found. 



238 MARLBROOK TO THE WARS IS COMING. 

Now he's gone home so jolly, 
And we're left melancholy, 
Lamenting of onr folly 

That such a part we took. 
"For bitterly has he drubb'd us, 
And cruelly has he snubb'd us, 
And against the grain has rubb'd us, 

This terrible Turk, Marlbrook. 

We hope he will never come back, sirs, 

Our generals to attack, sirs, 

And thrash them all in a crack, sirs, 

As he has done before. 
But in case Queen Anne should send him, 
We trust she'll kindly lend him 
Some Tories 1 to attend him, 

Then he'll return no more ! 

1 It will be remembered that tbe Tories of those days were pretty nearly 
the Whigs of ours; and violently opposed to Marlborough, and the war 
with France. 



239 



THE BOOTS OF MARLBROOK. 



Four marshals of France vow'd their monarch to guard, 
Bragging Boufflers, vain Villars, Villeroy, and Tallard ; 
These four gasconaders in jest undertook 
To pull off the boots of the mighty Marlbrook. 

Brush — brush away ! 

II. 

The field was first taken by Boufflers and Villars, 
But though they were the chaffers, yet we were the millers ; 
Bonn, Limburgh, and Huy, soon our general took, — 
'Twas not easy to pull off the boots of Marlbrook. 

Brush — brush away ! 



240 THE BOOTS OF MARLBROOK. 

III. 

Tallard next essayed with Bavaria's Elector, 

But the latter turn'd out an indifferent protector ; 

For he Schellenberg lost, while at Blenheim both shook 

In their shoes, at the sight of the boots of Marlbrook, 

Brush — brash away ! 

IV. 

To Bamilies next came the vaunting Villeroy, 
In his own esteem equal to Hector of Troy ; 
But he found, like the rest, that his man he mistook — 
And fled at the sight of the boots of Marlbrook. 

Brush — brush away ! 



Then here's to the boots, made of stout English leather, 
Well soled, and well heel'd, and right well put together ! 
He deserves not the name of a Briton, who'd brook 
A word 'gainst the fame of the boots of Marlbrook ! 

Brush — brush away ! 



THE BOOTS OF MARLBROOK. 241 

VI. 

Of Gallia the dread, and of Europe the wonder, 
These boots, like their master, will never knock under ; 
We'll bequeath 'em our sons, and our sons' sons shall look 
With pride and delight on the boots of Marlbrook. 

Brush — brush away ! 



242 



A YEAR AND A DAY. 



A Yeae and a Day is the period named 

When, according to Custom, the Flitch may be claimed; — 

Provided the parties can swear and can prove, 

They have lived the whole time in true conjugal love. 



"lis a very old Custom of ours at Dunmow, — 

Fitzwalter established it ages ago : 

Its antiquity, sure, can be doubted by no man, 

Since 'tis mentioned by Chaucer, and trusty Piers Plowman. 

in. 

That it is a good Custom, as well as an old, — 
Our custom of Dunmow — you needn't be told — 
A prize matrimonial — claim it we may — 
Nell and I have been married a Year and a Day. 



11 * «•* » 






A YEAR AND A DAY. 243 

IV. 

With all the conditions we've duly complied — 
And our love and fidelity well have been tried : 
Kneeling down at the Churcii-door, we dare to confess 
That not e'en in thought, did we ever transgress. 

v. 
No woman, save Nell, has attractions for me ; 
And as I feel, I needn't assure you, feels she : 
No man in the world, be he ever so big, 
Can say Nelly cares for his nonsense a fig. 

VI. 

I'm a pattern to husbands, as she is to wives — 
We teach all transgressors to alter their lives. 
We show how much better it is to be true, 
Than each other neglect, as some married folks do. 

VII. 

In short, we're as happy as couple can be, — 
No long curtain lectures sweet Nell reads to me ; 
By no silly squabbles we're ever put out, 
Nor do I ever scold, nor does she ever pout. 
e2 



214 A YEAR AND A DAY. 

VIII. 

As to wishing that we were unmarried again, — 
A notion so stupid ne'er enter'd our brain : — 
Far rather, — we give you our honour, — we would 
Be married twice over again, if we could ! 

IX. 

Three times did I marry the Flitch to obtain — 
Three times unsuccessful — the fourth time I gain : 
Blest with Nelly, sweet Nelly, they can't say me nay,- 
We've not had a wrong word for a Year and a Day ! 



• 



245 






THE BALLAD OF THE BEARD. 



i. 

In masculine beauty, or else I am wrong, 
Perfection consists in a beard that is long ; 
By man it is cherished, by woman revered, — 
Hence every good fellow is known by his beard. 

ii. 
Barbarossa, and Blackbeard, and Bluebeard, we know, 
Let the hair on their chins most abundantly grow : 
So did Francis the First, and our Harry the bluff, 
And the great Bajazet had beard more than enough. 

in. 
Now the faces of those bearded worthies compare 
With the faces of others divested of hair; 
And you'll very soon see — if you've got any eyes — 
On which side the superiority lies. 



2iG THE BALLAD OF THE BEARD. 

IV. 

Then take to the Beard, and have done with the razor ! 
Don't disfigure yourself any longer, I pray, sir ! 
Wear a Beard. You will find it becoming and pleasant, 
And your wife will admire you much more than at present. 

v. 

Of cats we've the Spanish, Italian, and Dutch, 

The old and the new, and the common o'ermuch; 

You may have your beard trimm'd any way that you please, 

Curled, twisted, or stuck out like chevaux-de-frise. 

VI. 

You may wear, if you choose, a beard, pick-a-devant, 
A beard like a hammer, or jagg'd like a saw, — 
A beard called " cathedral," and shaped like a tile, 
Which the widow in Hudibras served to beguile. 

VII. 

A beard like a dagger — nay, don't be afraid, — 
A beard like a bodkin, a beard like a spade ; 
A beard like a sugar-loaf, beard like a fork, 
A beard like a Hebrew, a beard like a Turk. 



THE BALLAD OF THE BEARD. 247 

VIII. 

Any one of these beards may be yours if you list — 
According to fancy you trim it or twist. 
As to colour, that matters, I ween, not a pin — 
But a bushy black beard is the surest to win. 

LX. 

So take to the Beard, and abandon the razor ! 

Have done with all soaping and shaving, I say, sir ! 

By a scrub of a barber be never more sheared, sir ; 

But adorn cheek and chin with a handsome long beard, sir ! 



248 



OLD GRINDROD'S GHOST. 1 



i. 
Old Grindrod was hanged on a gibbet high, 

On the spot where the dark deed was done ; 
'Twas a desolate place, on the edge of a moor, — 

A place for the timid to shnn. 

ii. 

Chains round his middle, and chains round his neck, 
And chains round his ankles were hung : 

And there in all weathers, in sunshine and rain, 
Old Grindrod, the murderer, swung. 

1 Founded on an incident, related to me, with admirable humour, by 
my old and much-valued frieud, Gilbert Winteb, late of Stocks, 
Manchester. 



OLD GRINDROD'S GHOST. 249 

III. 

Old Grindrod had long been the banquet of crows, 

Who nocked on his carcase to batten ; 
And the unctuous morsels that fell from their feast 

Served the rank weeds beneath him to fatten ! 

IV. 

All that's now left of him is a skeleton grim, 

The stoutest to strike with dismay ; 
So ghastly the sight, that no urchin, at night, 

Who can help it, will pass by that way. 

v. 

All such as had dared, had sadly been scared, 

And soon 'twas the general talk, 
That the wretch in his chains, each night took the pains, 

To come down from the gibbet — and walk ! 

VI. 

The story was told to a Traveller bold, 

At an inn, near the moor, by the Host; 
He appeals to each guest, and its truth they attest, 

But the Traveller laughs at the Ghost. 



250 old grindrod's ghost. 

m 

" Now, to show you," quoth he, " how afraid I must be, 

A rump and a dozen I'll lay ; 
That before it strikes One, I will go forth alone, 

Old Grindrod a visit to pay. 

VIII. 

"To the gibbet I'll go, and this I will do, 

As sure as I stand in my shoes ; 
Some address I'll devise, and if Grinny replies, 

My wager, of course, I shall lose." 

IX. 

" Accepted the bet ; but the night it is wet," 

Quoth the Host. " Never mind !" says the Guest ; 

" Erom darkness and rain, the adventure will gain, 
To my mind an additional zest." 

x. 

Now midnight had toll'd, and the Traveller bold 

Set out from the inn, all alone ; 
'Twas a night black as ink, and our friend 'gan to think, 

That uncommonly cold it had grown. 



OLD GRINDROD's GHOST. 251 

XI. 

Bat of nothing afraid, and by nothing delayed; 

Plunging onward through bog and through wood ; 
Wind and rain in his face, he na'er slackened his pace, 

Till under the gilbet he stood. 

XII. 

Though dark as could be, yet he thought he could see 

The skeleton hanging on high ; 
The gibbet it creaked ; and the rusty chains squeaked ; 

And a screech-owl flew solemnly by. 

XIII. 

The heavy rain pattered, the hollow bones clattered, 

The Traveller's teeth chattered — with cold — not with fright; 

The wind it blew lustily, piercingly, gustily ; 
Certainly not an agreeable night ! 

xrv. 

" Ho ! Grindrod, old fellow !" thus loudly did bellow, 
The Traveller mellow, — " How are ye, my blade P" — 

"I'm cold and I'm dreary; I'm wet and I'm weary; 
But soon I'll be near ye !" the Skeleton said. 



252 old grindrod's ghost. 

XV. 

The grisly bones rattled, and with the chains battled, 

The gibbet appallingly shook ; 
On the ground something stirr'd, but no more the man heard, — 

To his heels, on the instant, he took. 

XVI. 

Over moorland he dashed, and through quagmire he plashed ; 

His pace never daring to slack ; 
Till the hostel he neared, for greatly he feared 

Old Grindrod would leap on his back. 

XVII. 

His wager he lost, and a trifle it cost ; 

But that which annoyed him the most, 
Was to find out too late, that certain as fate, 

The Landlord had acted the Ghost. 



253 



THE BARBER OF RIPON AND THE GHOSTLY 
BASIN. 

A TALE OF THE CHARNEL HOUSE. 



I. 

Since Ghost-Stories you want, there is one I can tell 

Of a wonderful thing that Bat Pigeon befel : 

A Barber, at Bipon, in Yorkshire was he, 

And as keen in his craft as his best blade could be. 

II. 

Now Bat had a fancy, — a strange one, you'll own, — 
Instead of a brass bowl to have one of bone : 
To the Charnel-house 'neath the old Minster he'd been, 
And there, 'mongst the relics, a treasure had seen. 



254 THE BARBER OF RIPOX 

III. 

'Mid the pile of dry bones that encumber' d the ground, 
One pumpkin-like skull with a mazard he found ; 
If home that enormous old sconce he could take, 
What a capital basin for shaving 'twould make ! 

IV. 

Well ! he got it, at last, from the Sexton, his friend, 
Little dreaming how queerly the business would end : 
Next, he saw'd off the cranium close to the eyes ; 
And behold then ! a basin capacious in size. 

v. 

As the big bowl is balanced 'twixt finger and thumb, 
Bat's customers all with amazement are dumb ; 
At the strange yellow object they blink and they stare, 
But what it can be not a soul is aware ! 

VI. 

Bat Pigeon, as usual to rest went that night : 
But he soon started up in a terrible fright : 



AND THE GHOSTLY BASIN. 255 

Lo ! giving the curtains and bedclothes a pull, 
A Ghost he beheld — wanting half of its skull I 



VII. 

" Unmannerly barber !" the Spectre exclaimed ; 
"To desecrate bonehouses art not ashamed ? 
Thy crown into shivers, base varlet, I'll crack, 
Unless, on the instant, my own I get back !" 

VIH. 

" There it lies on the table !" Bat quakingly said; 
" Sure a skull cannot matter when once one is dead."- 
" Such a skull as thine may not, thou addlepate fool ! 
But a shaver of clowns for a Knight is no rule !" 

rx. 
"With this, the wroth Spectre its brainpan clapp'd on, 
And holding it fast, in a twinkling was gone ; 
But ere through the keyhole the Phantom could rush, 
Bat perceived it had taken the soap and the brush. 



256 THE BARBER OF R1PON. 

X. 

When the Sexton next morn went the Charnel-house round, 
The great Yellow Skull 1 in its old place he found : 
And 'twixt its lank jaws, while they grinningly ope, 
As in mockery stuck, are the Brush and the Soap ! 

1 This ghostly relic may still be seen in the curious Charnel-house of 
Kipon Minster. The legend connected with it is devoutly believed by the 
Sexton, its narrator. 



&ranslaii0its. 



259 



ELEGY 



CARDINAL CARLO BORROMEO. 1 



With black funereal robe, and tresses shorn, 
O'erwhelmed with grief, sad Elegy appears ; 

And, by her side, sits Ecloga forlorn, 
Blotting each line she traces with her tears. 

'Twas night ! — long pondering on my secret woes, 
The third hour broke upon my vigil lone ; 

Far from my breast had sorrow chased repose, 
And fears presageful threatened ills unknown. 

Freely translated from the Latin of the Admirable Crichton. 
8 2 



260 ELEGY OX THE CARDINAL CARLO BORROJIEO. 

Slumber, at length, my heavy eyelids sealed ; 

The self-same terrors scared me as I slept : 
Portentous dreams events to come revealed, 

And o'er my couch fantastic visions swept. 



Upon the shoreless sea methought I sailed, 
No helmsman steered the melancholy bark ; 

Around its sides the pitying Nereids wailed 
Cleaving with snow-white arms the waters dark. 



Cydippe, dolphin-borne, Ephyra fair, 

And Xanthia leave their halcyon-haunted caves, 
With Doris and Cymodece to share 

The maddening strife of storm-awaken'd waves. 



Drawn unresisting, where the whirling gyre 
Vexes the deep, the ship her prow inclines ; 

While, like a pharos' gleam, the lightning's fire 
Over the raging vortex redly shines. 



ELEGY ON THE CARDINAL CARLO BORROMEO. 261 

Mix'd with the thunder's roar that shakes the skies, 

Notus and Africus and Boreas sound ; 
Black wreathing clouds, like shadowy legions, rise, 

Shrouding the sea in midnight gloom profound. 



Disabled, straining, by the tempest lashed, 

Reft of her storm-tried helmsman's guiding hand, 

The vessel sinks ! — amid the surges dashed, 
Vainly I struggle — vainly cry for land ! 

Alas ! stern truths with dreams illusive meet ! 

Latium the shipwreck of her hopes deplores ! 
The pious leader of the Insubrian fleet 

I mourn — a wandering Scot from Northern shores ! 



Weep youths ! weep aged men ! weep ! rend your hair ! 

Let your wild plaints be on the breezes tost ! 
Weep virgins ! matrons ! till your loud despair 

Outbraves her children's wail for Ilion lost ! 



262" ELEGY ON THE CARDINAL CARLO BORROMEO. 

In that wreck' d bark the Ship of Christ behold ! 

In its lost chief the Cardinal divine, 
Of princely Lombard race ; * whose worth untold 

Eclipsed the lofty honours of his line. 



His suffering countrymen to rule, sustain, 
By the All-wise was Eorromeo given ; 

And he, who stoop' d not dignity to gain, 2 
Derived his high investiture from heaven. 



1 Saint Carlo Borromeo was born at Arona, near the Lago Maggiore, 
the loveliest of Italian lakes, on the 2nd of October, 1538. His family 
was, and still continues to be, the most illustrious in Lombardy. It 
derives, however, its proudest distinction from its connexion with the 
virtuous cardinal and his exalted nephew Frederigo, whose sublime cha- 
racter has been of late so exquisitely portrayed by Manzoni. If ever 
man deserved canonization, it was the subject of this elegy, whose whole 
life was spent in practices of piety ; and whose zeal, munificence, wisdom, 
toleration, and beneficence, have conferred lasting benefits on his creed 
and country. 

2 He was made Cardinal and Archbishop in his twenty-third year by 
his uncle, Pius VI., who had resigned several rich livings to him twelve 
years before, — Eustace. Classical Tour through Italy. 



ELEGY ON TIIE CARDINAL CARLO BORROMEO. 2G3 

Bright as the sun o'er all pre-eminent, 
Or Cynthia glittering from her star-girt throne, 

The saintly Charles, on truths sublime intent, 
Amid the purple hierarchy shone. 

The Christian fleet, devoid of helm and sail, 1 
He mann'd and led where roughest billows roll ; 

And, though no more his virtues wide prevail, 
Their sacred influence spreads from pole to pole. 

His was the providence that all foresees, 
His, the trust placed, unchangeably, above ; 

His, strict observance of his sires' decrees, 
Rapt adoration, and fear-chasten'd love. 



1 Borromeo found the diocese of Milan in the most deplorable state of 
disorder. But with a vigorous and unsparing hand he reformed all eccle- 
siastical abuses — " C'est ainsi," observes M. Tabauraud, the writer of his 
Life in the " Biog. Universelle," " que l'Eglise de Milan, tombee dans une 
espece d'anarchie depuis quatrevingts ans que ses archeveques n'y resi- 
daient pas, recut en peu d'annees cette forme admirable qui, par la vie 
toute angelique de son clerge 1 , la rendit le modele de toutes les autres 
Eglises. Tant de refbrmes ne purent se faire sans de grands obstacles, 
qu'il surmonta par sa lermet6, sa patience et son imperturbable charite'." 



264 ELEGY ON THE CARDINAL CARLO BORROMEO. 

The faith in practice, not profession, shown, 
Which borrows all its glory from on high 

Was his : — nor did his holiness, alone, 
Consist in outward forms of sanctity. 

A willing ear unto the nobly-born, 

Nobler himself, he ne'er refused to yield ; 

Nor, Jesus' meek disciple, did he scorn 
The humble prayer that to his heart appealed. 1 

No dearer recollection than his name 

Bequeathed us, can unite him with the earth : 

Nor can my praise add lustre to his fame — 
Proud heritage of unexampled worth ! 2 



1 So unbounded was Borromeo's charity, that he sold his principality of 
Oria, and distributed the proceeds amongst the poor. 

2 The private virtues of Saint Charles, that is, the qualities which give 
true sterling value to the man, and sanctify him to the eyes of his Creator 
— I mean humility, self-command, temperance, industry, prudence, and 
fortitude — were not inferior to his public endowments. His table was for 
his guests; his own diet was confined to bread and vegetables; he allowed 
himself no amusement or relaxation, alleging that the variety of his 



ELEGY ON THE CARDINAL CARLO BORROMEO. 265 

When, o'er his desolated city fell 

The livid plague's inexorable breath, 
Oft, in the lazzaretto's tainted cell, 

Fervent, he prayed beside the couch of death. 1 

As through the fane the pale procession swept, 2 
Before its shrine he bent in lowliest wise 

Imploring heaven, in mercy, to accept 
His life, for them, a willing sacrifice. 



riutios was in itself a sufficient recreation. His dress and establishment 
were such as became his rank, but in private he dispensed with tbe 
attendance of servants, and wore an under dress, coarse and common; 
his bed was of straw ; his repose short ; and in all the details of life 
he manifested an utter contempt of personal ease and indulgence. 
— Eustace. 

1 During a destructive pestilence he erected a lazzaretto, and served 
the forsaken victims with his own hands. — Eustace. 

2 The incidents described in this and the following stanza do not occur 
in the original. As, however, they appear necessary to complete the 
picture of the holy Primate's career presented by the poem, I have 
ventured upon their introduction. These actions, as well as his heroic 
devotion to the plague-stricken in the lazzaretto, mentioned in the pre- 
ceding verse, form subjects for part of the eight magnificent silver bas- 
reliefs which adorn the vaulted roof of the gorgeous subterranean chapel 
in the Duomo at Milan, where the body of the Saint reposes enshrined 



266 ELEGY ON THE CARDINAL CARLO BORROMEO. 

When from the assassin's arm the bullet sped, 
He blench' d not, nor his deep devotions stopt ; 

" Be not dismay' d in heart /" — the anthem said, 
He rose — the bullet from his vestment dropt I 1 

Not in the prism more varied hues reside, 

Than bright examples in his course are traced : — 

Alas ! his longer sojourn here denied, 

His guiding star is from its sphere effaced. 

amid "barbaric pearl and gold." During the period of the plague, 
Borromeo was indefatigable in his exertions to arrest the terrible calamity. 
"Cherchant," says M. Tabauraud, "a desarmer la colere du ciel par des 
processions generates, auxquelles il assistait nu-pieds, la corde au cou, les 
yeux fixes sur son crucifix, qu'il arrosait de ses larmes, en £ off rant a, Dieu 
comme une victime de propitiation pour les peches de sonpeuple!" 

1 The ecclesiastical reformation effected by Saint Charles met, as was 
natural, with considerable opposition on the part of the corrupt and 
disorderly priesthood, and he became the object of their bitterest animo- 
sity. " Les plus opposes a la reforme," writes M. Tabauraud ; " suscite- 
rent un frere Farina, qui se posta a l'entree de la chapelle archiepiscopale 
ou le Saint Prelat faisait sa priere avec toute sa maison ; et, au moment 
ou Ton chantait cette antienne ; Non turbetur cor vestrum nequeformi- 
det, l'assassin, eloigne seulement de cinq ou six pas, tire un coup d'arque- 
buse sur Saint Charles, a genoux devant l'autel. A ce bruit, le chant 
cesse, la consternation est generale ; le Saint, sans s'emouvoir, fait signe 
de continuer la priere : il se croyait cependant blesse mortellement, et 
offrait a Dieu le sacrifice de sa vie. La priere Jinie, il se releve, et voit 



ELEGY ON THE CARDINAL CARLO BOKROMEO. 2G7 

Alas ! life's ebbing tide no hindrance knows ! 

With man is nothing certain but to die ! 
Mortality, alone, presents a close 

Immutable, 'mid mutability. 

As, in some stream remote, the swan expires, 
Breathing, unheard, her fate-foreboding strain, 

So the declining Cardinal retires 
To steep Varalla's solitary fane. 1 



tomber a ses pieds la ballequ'on lui avait tiree dans le dos, et quiriavaib 
fait qu'effleurer son rochet." — Bioo. Universelle. The holy primate 
endeavoured, ineffectually, to preserve Farina and the instigators of his 
crime from merited punishment. They were put to death, and Pius VI. 
dissolved the order (Gli Umili) to which they belonged. 

1 The Monastery of Monte Varalla is situated in the Piedmontese 
stat. s. near the banks of the Sesia. Thither Saint Charles retired imme- 
diately previous to his dissolution, attended only by his confessor, the 
Jesuit Adorno, — and returned thence to Milan in a dying state. " Fran- 
efocmn Adurnum Societatis Jesu plurimi fecit qui cum in extremo vitae 
curriculo per dies plurimos, quo tempore in Monte Varallo meditationibus 
se totum tradiderat Carolus ab ejus latere nunquam discesserit." — 
Caroli Cardin. Borromcei Vita — Valerio. Antoine Godeau, Bishop 
of Grasse, who has written the life of the illustrious Primate, gives the 
following particulars of his melancholy visit to the Monastery: — " Encore 
que toute la vie de Saint Charles fust une retraite mentale, toutefois 
il avait accoutume" d'en faire une locale tous les ans en quelque monastere 



268 ELEGY ON THE CARDINAL CARLO BORROMEO. 

Like the fair flower that springs from winter's crust, 
Lombards ! your Primate bursts his earthly chains ; 

And, in his Father's mansion with the Just, 
A portion and inheritance obtains. 1 

Within his chosen tomb calm may he sleep ! 8 

Beatified, aloft, his spirit soars ! 
While Yirtue's loss irreparable, deep, 

With reverential grief the Muse deplores. 

ecarte\ ou il employoit quelques jours pour faire une revue severe rle sa vie, 
et pour prendre un nouvel esprit de zele et de piete. Avant que de s'en 
retourner a Milan, il voulut passer au Mont Varalle, dont nous avons 
parle, et y faire ses exercices." — Vie de S. Ch. Borromee. Liv. II. Ch. 
dernier. M. Mellin, in his " Voyage dans le Milanais," describing tlie 
mountain oratory of Varese, observes : " On va de la a Varalle, ou les 
Histoires de l'Ancien et du Nouveau-Testament sont figurees dans cin- 
quante-deux cbapelles." 

1 The earthly pilgrimage of Saint Charles terminated on the 4th of 
November, 1584, at the age of forty-six years. He was canonized by 
Paul V., in 1610. 

2 " Cupiens hoc loco sibi monumentum vivens elegit." — Epitaph in- 
scribed, by his own desire, upon Borromed's tomb. 



269 



TO GASPAR VISCONTI. 1 
(congratulatory address.) 



When her fair land with grief o'erspread, 
Insubria mourn' d her Primate dead ; 
When Borromeo to the tomb 
Was borne 'mid all-pervading gloom ; 
When dimm'd with tears was every eye, 
When breathed one universal sigh 
The sorrowing lyre for liim who slept, 
I first — a Scottish minstrel — swept. 

The night is pass'd, and dawn awakes, 
Bright Cynthius through the vapour breaks, 

1 Freely translated from the Latin of the Admirable Crichton. 



270 TO GASPAR VISCONTI. 

And Lucifer, with cheering beams, 
Erom out his golden axle gleams. 
Where late upon the raging sea 
The wild winds rush'd tumultuously ; 
And the frail bark by surges tost, 
Her tempest-braving helmsman lost, 
Her timbers strain' d, her canvass riven, 
Wide o'er the weltering waste was driven ; 
While her pale crew, with fear aghast, 
Gazed (as they deem'd) on heaven their last ! 
With shrieks their hapless fate bewailing ! 
With prayers the threatening skies assailing ! 

A change is wrought ! — hushed are the gales, 

A soft and summer calm prevails; 
And the glad ship in safety glides 
Over the gently-rolling tides. 
In troops o'er ocean's broad expanse 
Day's rosy harbingers advance ; 
Bland Eolus careers the wave, 
Pierce Notus hurries to his cave ; 
Young Titan from the waters springs, 



TO GASPAR VISCONTI. 271 

With new-born lustre on his wings ; 
And over all things shines that sun, 
Whose light a thousand vows have won. 

16 ! with shouts the deck resound ! 
16 ! another chief is found ! 
Another leader hath been sent 
To rule the Christian armament ; 
Whose firmness and undaunted zeal 
Ensure uninterrupted weal : 
Whose voice the Roman Rota sway'd, 
Whose laws that synod sage obey'd ; 
Whose hand will guide with equal ease, 
Religion's bark through stormy seas : 
Whose power in exhortation shown, 
Whose wisdom I myself have known ; 
When by his eloquence subdued, 
In admiration lost, I stood. 
Rejoice tlirice-happy Lombardy ! 
That such a chief is given to thee ! 
A chief so free from aught of sin, 



272 TO CASPAR V1SCONTI. 

Virtue might be his origin s 

Whose heavenly purpose, onward-tending, 

Whose resolution calm, unbending, 

Shall lead thee through the shades of night 

To realms of everlasting light. 

Haste Milanese ! your Primate greet ! 
Prelates ! your leader fly to meet ! 
Run maidens ! youths ! let each one bring 
Some gift, some worthy offering ! 
Surrounding nations hail your choice, 
Surrounding nations loud rejoice ! 
Like him, whom ye have lost, was none 
Save him your choice has fall'n upon I 

A father fond, a ruler wise, 
Gaspah, in thee, we recognise : 
Thy name, Visconti, seems to be 
An earnest of prosperity. 
To us thou art in our distress, 
As manna in the wilderness. 



TO GASPAR VISCOXTI. 273 

Inhospitable Caucasus, 

Sarraatian Boreas rigorous, 

Seize on the caitiff, who denies 

Thy all-acknowledg'd chaiities ! 

A glory art thou, and a star, 

A light, a pharos seen afar ! 

And, clothed with majesty divine, 

Shalt prove the pillar of thy line. 

High rectitude and prescience 

Are thine, and wide beneficence : 

A Numa in thy sanctity, 

A Cato in thy gravity, 

Augustus in nobility. 

Hence the High Pontiff Gregory, 1 

Who holds of Paradise the key, 

For thee earth's chains hath cast aside, 

For thee heaven's gate hath opened wide ; 

Milan's white robe hath round thee spread, 

Her mitre placed upon thy head. 

1 Gregory XIII., the Pope by whom Gaspar Visconti was appointed 
to the Archiepiscopal see of Milan. 



274 TO GASPAR VISCONTL 

In thy blest advent all men see 

Of peace a certain angury ; 

All tongues are clamorous in thy praise, 

All prayers are for thy length of days. 

Amid the crowd, I, Grichton, born 

On Caledonian shores forlorn, 

Not all unknown, congratulate 

Thee, Gaspar, on thine honour' d state. 

Perpetual happiness be thine ! 

Thy bright, approving smile be mine ! 

Nor let thy taste, severe, disdain, 

Primate, this welcome-breathing strain. 



THE END. 



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