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BALLADS: 

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Digitized  by  the  internet  Archive 

in  2008  with  funding  from 

Microsoft  Corporation 


http://www.archive.org/details/balladsromanticfOOainsrich 


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TfclE    CUSTOM    CF    DDNMOW. 


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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  Elizabeth1 — 
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  Poltrot1  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  Marigni2 — 
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,  0  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  I1 

<  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. 


5Tis  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  GTJESCLIK1 


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  !  0  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. 

Borgia1  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  Philip1  may  crave  all, 
The  Bearnais2  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  saA 
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  l1 
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  Anne1  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  I1 

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  P1 
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, 

5Tis  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  I1 

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  I1 

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  I1 

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  Swiftnecks1 — 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  Tory3  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  Rumpads1  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  box2  of  the  Stone  Jug3 1  was  born, 
Of  a  hempen  widow4  the  kid  forlorn, 

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

Take  away. 
Was  a  merchant  of  capers5  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." 
0  2 


196  A   ROMANY   CHANT. 

The  knucks  in  quod1  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  sneaksman2  or  buzgloak3  going. 

Fake  away. 
Fogies4  and  fawnies5  soon  went  their  way, 

Fake  away. 
To  the  spout6  with  the  sneezers7  in  grand  array. 
No  dummy  hunter8  had  forks9  so  fly; 

Nix  my  doll  pals,  fake  away. 

No  dummy  hunter  had  forks  so  fly. 
No  knuckler10  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  hoxter1  my  snipes2  could  stay, 

Fake  away. 
None  knap  a  reader3  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  niblike5  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  beaks7  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  darbies1  one  morn  in  May, 

Fake  away. 
And  gave  to  the  dubsman2  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  j1 
Besides,  against  all  rule  they're  sinning, 
Vere  neither  has  no  chance  of  vinning. 

Ri,  toly  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  buffer1  to  the  scratch) 

To  make  it  look  a  tightish  match; 

They  peeled2  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  cull3  completely  in  the  dark, 
Of  vot  might  be  his  neighbour's  mark  ; 
Resolved  his  Jibbing4  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  magx  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  hellite1  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  Oliver1  puts  his  black  nightcap  on, 

And  every  star  its  glim2  is  hiding, 
And  forth  to  the  heath  is  the  scampsman3  gone, 

His  matchless  cherry-black4  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  tol5  by  his  side,  and  his  pops6  in  his  pocket. 

CHORUS. 

Then  who  can  name 

So  merry  a  game, 

As  the  game  of  all  games — high  toby  f1 

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  plumbs3  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  l1 
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 


0  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  Tories1  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  Skull1  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  clerge1,  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  I1 

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. 


Savill  and  Edwards,  Chandos  Street,  Covent  Garden. 


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DRYDEN'S   POETICAL   WORKS.     Illustrated    by 
Franklin. 
"  The  versification  of  Dryden  is  admirable;  his  narratives  and  descriptions  are 
full  of  life.    To  this  day,  '  Palamon  and  Arcite,'  '  Cymon  and  Iphigenia,'  '  Theo- 
dore and  Honoria,'  are  the  delight  both  of  critics  and  of  school-boys.    Of  lyric 
poets  he  is  the  most  sublime,  the  most  brilliant  and  spirit-stirring." — Macaulay. 

SOUTHEY'S  JOAN  of  ARC,  and  MINOR  POEMS. 
With  Illustrations  by  John  Gilbert. 

CHAUCER'S  POETICAL  WORKS.     From  the  Text 
ofTYRWHiTT.    Illustrated  by  Edward  Corbould. 


K 


Price  5s.  each,  cloth  gilt. 

EIKE    WHITE'S    POETICAL    WORKS    AND 
REMAINS.      With  .Life  by   Sodthet.       Illustrated    by 
Birket  Foster. 

SPENSER'S  FAIRIE  QUEENE,  to  which  is  added 
his  Epithalamion.  A  New  Edition,  with  a  Glossary,  and 
Illustrated  by  Edward  Corbould.  In  One  Volume,  small  8vo, 
cloth  lettered. 

GOLDSMITH,  JOHNSON,  SMOLLET,  and  SHEN- 
STONE'S  POETICAL  WORKS.     In  One  Volume.     Illus- 
trated by  John  Gilbert. 

"  Can  any  author — can  even  Sir  Walter  Scott — be  compared  with  Goldsmith,  for 
the  variety,  beauty,  and  power  of  his  compositions?  You  may  take  and  *  cut  him 
out  in  little  stars,'  so  many  lights  does  he  present  to  the  imagination." 

ATHEff-EUM. 

Also  uniform, 

LONGFELLOW'S  POETICAL  WORKS,  beautifully 
illustrated  with  upwards  of  34  Engravings,  from  designs  by 
John  Gilbert  ;  and  Steel  Plates,  executed  in  the  first  style  of  art, 
from  designs  by  Thomas.     Printed  on  a  superfine  paper. 

LONGFELLOW'S     PROSE     WORKS,    comprising 
"Hyperion,"  "  Kavanagh,"  and  "  Outre  Mer."     With  Eight 
Illustrations  by  John  Gilbert. 


London  :  G.  EOUTLEDGE  &  CO.,  Farringdon  Street. 


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773857 


"48* 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


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