And gagged securely--so--
You shall be placed in Drury Lane,
Where only good lads go.
"Surrounded there by virtuous boys,
You'll suffer torture wus
Than that which constantly annoys
Disgraceful TANTALUS.
("If you would learn the woes that vex
Poor TANTALUS, down there,
Pray borrow of Papa an ex-
Purgated LEMPRIERE.)
"But as for BLAND who, as it seems,
Eats only naughty boys,
We've planned a recompense that teems
With gastronomic joys.
"Where wicked youths in crowds are stowed
He shall unquestioned rule,
And have the run of Hackney Road
Reformatory School!"
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
THE FIRST LORD'S SONG
When I was a lad I served a term
As office boy to an Attorney's firm;
I cleaned the windows and I swept the floor,
And I polished up the handle of the big front door.
I polished up that handle so successfullee,
That now I am the Ruler of the Queen's Navee!
As office boy I made such a mark
That they gave me the post of a junior clerk;
I served the writs with a smile so bland,
And I copied all the letters in a big round hand.
I copied all the letters in a hand so free,
That now I am the Ruler of the Queen's Navee!
In serving writs I made such a name
That an articled clerk I soon became;
I wore clean collars and a brand-new suit
For the Pass Examination at the Institute:
And that Pass Examination did so well for me,
That now I am the Ruler of the Queen's Navee!
Of legal knowledge I acquired such a grip
That they took me into the partnership,
And that junior partnership, I ween,
Was the only ship that I ever had seen:
But that kind of ship so suited me,
That now I am the Ruler of the Queen's Navee!
I grew so rich that I was sent
By a pocket borough into Parliament;
I always voted at my Party's call,
And I never thought of thinking for myself at all.
I thought so little, they rewarded me,
By making me the Ruler of the Queen's Navee!
Now, landsmen all, whoever you may be,
If you want to rise to the top of the tree--
If your soul isn't fettered to an office stool,
Be careful to be guided by this golden rule--
Stick close to your desks and _never go to sea_,
And you all may be Rulers of the Queen's Navee!
[Illustration]
LITTLE OLIVER
EARL JOYCE he was a kind old party
Whom nothing ever could put out,
Though eighty-two, he still was hearty,
Excepting as regarded gout.
He had one unexampled daughter,
The LADY MINNIE-HAHA JOYCE,
Fair MINNIE-HAHA, "Laughing Water,"
So called from her melodious voice.
By Nature planned for lover-capture,
Her beauty every heart assailed;
The good old nobleman with rapture
Observed how widely she prevailed.
Aloof from all the lordly flockings
Of titled swells who worshipped her,
There stood, in pumps and cotton stockings,
One humble lover--OLIVER.
He was no peer by Fortune petted,
His name recalled no bygone age;
He was no lordling coronetted--
Alas! he was a simple page!
With vain appeals he never bored her,
But stood in silent sorrow by--
He knew how fondly he adored her,
And knew, alas! how hopelessly!
[Illustration]
Well grounded by a village tutor
In languages alive and past,
He'd say unto himself, "Knee-suitor,
Oh, do not go beyond your last!"
But though his name could boast no handle,
He could not every hope resign;
As moths will hover round a candle,
So hovered he about her shrine.
The brilliant candle dazed the moth well:
One day she sang to her Papa
The air that MARIE sings with BOTHWELL
In NIEDERMEYER'S opera.
(Therein a stable boy, it's stated,
Devoutly loved a noble dame,
Who ardently reciprocated
His rather injudicious flame.)
And then, before the piano closing
(He listened coyly at the door),
She sang a song of her composing--
I give one verse from half a score:
BALLAD
_Why, pretty page, art ever sighing?
Is sorrow in thy heartlet lying?
Come, set a-ringing
Thy laugh entrancing,
And ever singing
And ever dancing.
Ever singing, Tra! la! la!
Ever dancing, Tra! la! la!
Ever singing, ever dancing,
Ever singing, Tra! la! la!_
He skipped for joy like little muttons,
He danced like Esmeralda's kid.
(She did not mean a boy in buttons,
Although he fancied that she did.)
Poor lad! convinced he thus would win her,
He wore out many pairs of soles;
He danced when taking down the dinner--
He danced when bringing up the coals.
He danced and sang (however laden)
With his incessant "Tra! la! la!"
Which much surprised the noble maiden,
And puzzled even her Papa.
He nourished now his flame and fanned it,
He even danced at work below.
The upper servants wouldn't stand it,
And BOWLES the butler told him so.
[Illustration]
At length on impulse acting blindly,
His love he laid completely bare;
The gentle Earl received him kindly
And told the lad to take a chair.
"Oh, sir," the suitor uttered sadly,
"Don't give your indignation vent;
I fear you think I'm acting madly,
Perhaps you think me insolent?"
The kindly Earl repelled the notion;
His noble bosom heaved a sigh,
His fingers trembled with emotion,
A tear stood in his mild blue eye:
For, oh! the scene recalled too plainly
The half-forgotten time when he,
A boy of nine, had worshipped vainly
A governess of forty-three!
"My boy," he said, in tone consoling,
"Give up this idle fancy--do--
The song you heard my daughter trolling
Did not, indeed, refer to you.
"I feel for you, poor boy, acutely;
I would not wish to give you pain;
Your pangs I estimate minutely,--
I, too, have loved, and loved in vain.
[Illustration]
"But still your humble rank and station
For MINNIE surely are not meet"--
He said much more in conversation
Which it were needless to repeat.
Now I'm prepared to bet a guinea,
Were this a mere dramatic case,
The page would have eloped with MINNIE.
But, no--he only left his place.
The simple Truth is my detective,
With me Sensation can't abide;
The Likely beats the mere Effective,
And Nature is my only guide.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
MISTER WILLIAM
Oh, listen to the tale of MISTER WILLIAM, if you please,
Whom naughty, naughty judges sent away beyond the seas.
He forged a party's will, which caused anxiety and strife,
Resulting in his getting penal servitude for life.
He was a kindly goodly man, and naturally prone,
Instead of taking others' gold, to give away his own.
But he had heard of Vice, and longed for only once to strike--
To plan _one_ little wickedness--to see what it was like.
He argued with himself, and said, "A spotless man am I;
I can't be more respectable, however hard I try;
For six and thirty years I've always been as good as gold,
And now for half-an-hour I'll deal in infamy untold!
"A baby who is wicked at the early age of one,
And then reforms--and dies at thirty-six a spotless son,
Is never, never saddled with his babyhood's defect,
But earns from worthy men consideration and respect.
"So one who never revelled in discreditable tricks
Until he reached the comfortable age of thirty-six,
Is free for half-an-hour to perpetrate a deed of shame,
Without incurring permanent disgrace, or even blame.
"That babies don't commit such crimes as forgery is true,
But little sins develop, if you leave 'em to accrue;
And he who shuns all vices as successive seasons roll,
Should reap at length the benefit of so much self-control.
"The common sin of babyhood--objecting to be drest--
If you leave it to accumulate at compound interest,
For anything you know, may represent, if you're alive,
A burglary or murder at the age of thirty-five.
"Still, I wouldn't take advantage of this fact, but be content
With some pardonable folly--it's a mere experiment.
The greater the temptation to go wrong, the less the sin;
So with something that's particularly tempting I'll begin.
"I would not steal a penny, for my income's very fair--
I do not want a penny--I have pennies and to spare--
And if I stole a penny from a money-bag or till,
The sin would be enormous--the temptation being _nil_.
"But if I broke asunder all such pettifogging bounds,
And forged a party's Will for (say) Five Hundred Thousand Pounds,
With such an irresistible temptation to a haul,
Of course the sin must be infinitesimally small.
"There's WILSON who is dying--he has wealth from Stock and rent--
If I divert his riches from their natural descent,
I'm placed in a position to indulge each little whim."
So he diverted them--and they, in turn, diverted him.
[Illustration]
Unfortunately, though, by some unpardonable flaw,
Temptation isn't recognised by Britain's Common Law;
Men found him out by some peculiarity of touch,
And WILLIAM got a "lifer," which annoyed him very much.
For ah! he never reconciled himself to life in gaol,
He fretted and he pined, and grew dispirited and pale;
He was numbered like a cabman, too, which told upon him so,
That his spirits, once so buoyant, grew uncomfortably low.
And sympathetic gaolers would remark, "It's very true,
He ain't been brought up common, like the likes of me and you."
So they took him into hospital, and gave him mutton chops,
And chocolate, and arrowroot, and buns, and malt and hops.
[Illustration]
Kind clergymen, besides, grew interested in his fate,
Affected by the details of his pitiable state.
They waited on the Secretary, somewhere in Whitehall,
Who said he would receive them any day they liked to call.
"Consider, sir, the hardship of this interesting case:
A prison life brings with it something very like disgrace;
It's telling on young WILLIAM, who's reduced to skin and bone--
Remember he's a gentleman, with money of his own.
"He had an ample income, and of course he stands in need
Of sherry with his dinner, and his customary weed;
No delicacies now can pass his gentlemanly lips--
He misses his sea-bathing and his continental trips.
"He says the other prisoners are commonplace and rude;
He says he cannot relish the disgusting prison food,
For when a boy they taught him to distinguish Good from Bad,
And other educational advantages he's had.
"A burglar or garrotter, or, indeed, a common thief
Is very glad to batten on potatoes and on beef,
Or anything, in short, that prison kitchens can afford,--
A cut above the diet in a common workhouse ward.
"But beef and mutton-broth don't seem to suit our WILLIAM'S whim,
A boon to other prisoners--a punishment to him:
It never was intended that the discipline of gaol
Should dash a convict's spirits, sir, or make him thin or pale."
"Good Gracious Me!" that sympathetic Secretary cried,
"Suppose in prison fetters MISTER WILLIAM should have died!
Dear me, of course! Imprisonment for _Life_ his sentence saith:
I'm very glad you mentioned it--it might have been For Death!
"Release him with a ticket--he'll be better then, no doubt,
And tell him I apologise." So MISTER WILLIAM'S out.
I hope he will be careful in his manuscripts, I'm sure,
And not begin experimentalising any more.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
WOULD YOU KNOW?
Would you know the kind of maid
Sets my heart a flame-a?
Eyes must be downcast and staid,
Cheeks must flush for shame-a!
She may neither dance nor sing,
But, demure in everything,
Hang her head in modest way
With pouting lips that seem to say,
"Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me, kiss me,
Though I die of shame-a!"
Please you, that's the kind of maid
Sets my heart a flame-a!
When a maid is bold and gay
With a tongue goes clang-a,
Flaunting it in brave array,
Maiden may go hang-a!
Sunflower gay and hollyhock
Never shall my garden stock;
Mine the blushing rose of May,
With pouting lips that seem to say
"Oh, kiss me, kiss me, kiss me, kiss me,
Though I die for shame-a!"
Please you, that's the kind of maid
Sets my heart a flame-a!
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
PASHA BAILEY BEN
A proud Pasha was BAILEY BEN,
His wives were three, his tails were ten;
His form was dignified, but stout,
Men called him "Little Roundabout."
_His Importance_
Pale Pilgrims came from o'er the sea
To wait on PASHA BAILEY B.,
All bearing presents in a crowd,
For B. was poor as well as proud.
_His Presents_
They brought him onions strung on ropes,
And cold boiled beef, and telescopes,
And balls of string, and shrimps, and guns,
And chops, and tacks, and hats, and buns.
_More of them_
They brought him white kid gloves, and pails,
And candlesticks, and potted quails,
And capstan-bars, and scales and weights,
And ornaments for empty grates.
_Why I mention these_
My tale is not of these--oh no!
I only mention them to show
The divers gifts that divers men
Brought o'er the sea to BAILEY BEN.
_His Confidant_
A confidant had BAILEY B.,
A gay Mongolian dog was he;
I am not good at Turkish names,
And so I call him SIMPLE JAMES.
_His Confidant's Countenance_
A dreadful legend you might trace
In SIMPLE JAMES'S honest face,
For there you read, in Nature's print,
"A Scoundrel of the Deepest Tint."
_His Character_
A deed of blood, or fire, or flames,
Was meat and drink to SIMPLE JAMES:
To hide his guilt he did not plan,
But owned himself a bad young man.
[Illustration]
_The Author to his Reader_
And why on earth good BAILEY BEN
(The wisest, noblest, best of men)
Made SIMPLE JAMES his right-hand man
Is quite beyond my mental span.
_The same, continued_
But there--enough of gruesome deeds!
My heart, in thinking of them, bleeds;
And so let SIMPLE JAMES take wing,--
'Tis not of him I'm going to sing.
_The Pasha's Clerk_
Good PASHA BAILEY kept a clerk
(For BAILEY only made his mark),
His name was MATTHEW WYCOMBE COO,
A man of nearly forty-two.
_His Accomplishments_
No person that I ever knew
Could "yödel" half as well as COO,
And Highlanders exclaimed, "Eh, weel!"
When COO began to dance a reel.
[Illustration]
_His Kindness to the Pasha's Wives_
He used to dance and sing and play
In such an unaffected way,
He cheered the unexciting lives
Of PASHA BAILEY'S lovely wives.
_The Author to his Reader_
But why should I encumber you
With histories of MATTHEW COO?
Let MATTHEW COO at once take wing.--
'Tis not of COO I'm going to sing.
_The Author's Muse_
Let me recall my wandering Muse
She _shall_ be steady if I choose--
She roves, instead of helping me
To tell the deeds of BAILEY B.
_The Pasha's Visitor_
One morning knocked, at half-past eight,
A tall Red Indian at his gate.
In Turkey, as you're p'raps aware,
Red Indians are extremely rare.
_The Visitor's Outfit_
Mocassins decked his graceful legs,
His eyes were black, and round as eggs,
And on his neck, instead of beads,
Hung several Catawampous seeds.
_What the Visitor said_
"Ho, ho!" he said, "thou pale-faced one,
Poor offspring of an Eastern sun,
You've _never_ seen the Red Man skip
Upon the banks of Mississip!"
_The Author's Moderation_
To say that BAILEY oped his eyes
Would feebly paint his great surprise--
To say it almost made him die
Would be to paint it much too high.
_The Author to his Reader_
But why should I ransack my head
To tell you all that Indian said;
We'll let the Indian man take wing,--
'Tis not of him I'm going to sing.
_The Reader to the Author_
Come, come, I say, that's quite enough
Of this absurd disjointed stuff;
Now let's get on to that affair
About LIEUTENANT-COLONEL FLARE.
[Illustration]
LIEUTENANT-COLONEL FLARE
The earth has armies plenty,
And semi-warlike bands,
I dare say there are twenty
In European lands;
But, oh! in no direction
You'd find one to compare
In brotherly affection
With that of COLONEL FLARE.
His soldiers might be rated
As military Pearls:
As unsophisticated
As pretty little girls!
They never smoked or ratted,
Or talked of Sues or Polls;
The Sergeant-Major tatted,
The others nursed their dolls.
He spent his days in teaching
These truly solemn facts;
There's little use in preaching,
Or circulating tracts.
(The vainest plan invented
For stifling other creeds,
Unless it's supplemented
With charitable _deeds_.)
He taught his soldiers kindly
To give at Hunger's call:
"Oh, better far give blindly
Than never give at all!
Though sympathy be kindled
By Imposition's game,
Oh, better far be swindled
Than smother up its flame!"
His means were far from ample
For pleasure or for dress,
Yet note this bright example
Of single-heartedness:
Though ranking as a Colonel,
His pay was but a groat,
While their reward diurnal
Was--each a five-pound note.
Moreover,--this evinces
His kindness, you'll allow,--
He fed them all like princes,
And lived himself on cow.
He set them all regaling
On curious wines, and dear,
While he would sit pale-ale-ing,
Or quaffing ginger-beer.
[Illustration]
Then at his instigation
(A pretty fancy this)
Their daily pay and ration
He'd take in change for his;
They brought it to him weekly,
And he without a groan
Would take it from them meekly
And give them all his own!
Though not exactly knighted
As knights, of course, should be,
Yet no one so delighted
In harmless chivalry.
If peasant girl or ladye
Beneath misfortunes sank,
Whate'er distinctions made he,
They were not those of rank.
[Illustration]
No maiden young and comely
Who wanted good advice
(However poor or homely)
Need ask him for it twice.
He'd wipe away the blindness
That comes of teary dew;
His sympathetic kindness
No sort of limit knew.
He always hated dealing
With men who schemed or planned;
A person harsh--unfeeling--
The Colonel could not stand.
He hated cold, suspecting,
Official men in blue,
Who pass their lives detecting
The crimes that others do.
[Illustration]
For men who'd shoot a sparrow,
Or immolate a worm
Beneath a farmer's harrow,
He could not find a term.
Humanely, ay, and knightly
He dealt with such an one;
He took and tied him tightly,
And blew him from a gun.
The earth has armies plenty,
And semi-warlike bands,
I'm certain there are twenty
In European lands;
But, oh! in no direction
You'd find one to compare
In brotherly affection
With that of COLONEL FLARE.
[Illustration]
SPECULATION
Comes a train of little ladies
From scholastic trammels free,
Each a little bit afraid is,
Wondering what the world can be!
Is it but a world of trouble--
Sadness set to song?
Is its beauty but a bubble
Bound to break ere long?
Are its palaces and pleasures
Fantasies that fade?
And the glory of its treasures
Shadow of a shade?
Schoolgirls we, eighteen and under,
From scholastic trammels free,
And we wonder--how we wonder!--
What on earth the world can be!
AH ME!
When maiden loves, she sits and sighs
She wanders to and fro;
Unbidden tear-drops fill her eyes,
And to all questions she replies
With a sad heigho!
'Tis but a little word--"heigho!"
So soft, 'tis scarcely heard--"heigho!
An idle breath--
Yet life and death
May hang upon a maid's "heigho!"
When maiden loves, she mopes apart,
As owl mopes on a tree;
Although she keenly feels the smart,
She cannot tell what ails her heart,
With its sad "Ah me!"
'Tis but a foolish sigh--"Ah me!"
Born but to droop and die--"Ah me!"
Yet all the sense
Of eloquence
Lies hidden in a maid's "Ah me!"
[Illustration]
LOST MR. BLAKE
MR. BLAKE was a regular out-and-out hardened sinner,
Who was quite out of the pale of Christianity, so to speak:
He was in the habit of smoking a long pipe and drinking
a glass of grog on Sunday after dinner,
And seldom thought of going to church more than twice
(or if Good Friday or Christmas Day happened to
come in it) three times a week.
He was quite indifferent as to the particular kinds of dresses
That the clergyman wore at the church where he used
to go to pray,
And whatever he did in the way of relieving a chap's
distresses,
He always did in a nasty, sneaking, underhanded, hole-
and-corner sort of way.
I have known him indulge in profane, ungentlemanly
emphatics,
When the Protestant Church has been divided on the
subject of the width of a chasuble's hem;
I have even known him to sneer at albs--and as for
dalmatics,
Words can't convey an idea of the contempt he expressed
for _them_.
He didn't believe in persons who, not being well off them-
selves, are obliged to confine their charitable exertions
to collecting money from wealthier people,
And looked upon individuals of the former class as
ecclesiastical hawks;
He used to say that he would no more think of interfering
with his priest's robes than with his church or his
steeple,
And that he did not consider his soul imperilled because
somebody over whom he had no influence whatever,
chose to dress himself up like an ecclesiastical
GUY FAWKES.
This shocking old vagabond was so unutterably shameless
That he actually went a-courting a very respectable and
pious middle-aged sister, by the name of BIGGS:
She was a rather attractive widow whose life, as such, had
always been particularly blameless;
Her first husband had left her a secure but moderate
competence owing to some fortunate speculations in
the matter of figs.
She was an excellent person in every way--and won the
respect even of MRS. GRUNDY,
She was a good housewife, too, and wouldn't have wasted
a penny if she had owned the Koh-i-noor;
She was just as strict as he was lax in her observance of
Sunday,
And being a good economist, and charitable besides, she
took all the bones and cold potatoes and broken
pie-crusts and candle-ends (when she had quite done
with them), and made them into an excellent soup
for the deserving poor.
I am sorry to say that she rather took to BLAKE--that outcast
of society;
And when respectable brothers who were fond of her
began to look dubious and to cough,
She would say, "Oh, my friends, it's because I hope to
bring this poor benighted soul back to virtue and
propriety"
(And besides, the poor benighted soul, with all his faults,
was uncommonly well off).
And when MR. BLAKE'S dissipated friends called his attention
to the frown or the pout of her,
Whenever he did anything which appeared to her to
savour of an unmentionable place,
He would say she would be a very decent old girl when all
that nonsense was knocked out of her--
And his method of knocking it out of her is one that
covered him with disgrace.
She was fond of going to church services four times every
Sunday, and four or five times in the week, and never
seemed to pall of them,
So he hunted out all the churches within a convenient
distance that had services at different hours, so to
speak;
And when he had married her he positively insisted upon
their going to all of them,
So they contrived to do about twelve churches every
Sunday, and, if they had luck, from twenty-two to
twenty-three in the course of the week.
She was fond of dropping his sovereigns ostentatiously into
the plate, and she liked to see them stand out rather
conspicuously against the commonplace half-crowns
and shillings,
So he took her to all the charity sermons, and if by any
extraordinary chance there wasn't a charity sermon
anywhere, he would drop a couple of sovereigns (one
for him and one for her) into the poor-box at the
door;
[Illustration]
And as he always deducted the sums thus given in charity
from the housekeeping money, and the money he
allowed her for her bonnets and frillings,
She soon began to find that even charity, if you allow it
to interfere with your personal luxuries, becomes an
intolerable bore.
On Sundays she was always melancholy and anything but
good society,
For that day in her household was a day of sighings and
sobbings and wringing of hands and shaking of heads:
She wouldn't hear of a button being sewn on a glove,
because it was a work neither of necessity nor of
piety,
And strictly prohibited her servants from amusing themselves,
or indeed doing anything at all except dusting
the drawing-rooms, cleaning the boots and shoes,
cooking the dinner, waiting generally on the family,
and making the beds.
But BLAKE even went farther than that, and said that, on
Sundays, people should do their own works of necessity,
and not delegate them to persons in a menial situation,
So he wouldn't allow his servants to do so much as
even answer a bell.
Here he is making his wife carry up the water for her bath
to the second floor, much against her inclination,--
And why in the world the gentleman who illustrates
these ballads has put him into a cocked hat is more
than I can tell.
[Illustration]
After about three months of this sort of thing, taking the
smooth with the rough of it
(Blacking her own boots and peeling her own potatoes
was not her notion of connubial bliss),
MRS. BLAKE began to find that she had pretty nearly had
enough of it,
And came, in course of time, to think that BLAKE'S own
original line of conduct wasn't so much amiss.