("BELIAL BLAKE" his friends and well-wishers call
him for his atrocities),
And his poor deluded victim whom all her Christian
brothers dislike and pity so,
Go to the parish church only on Sunday morning and
afternoon and occasionally on a week-day, and spend
their evenings in connubial fondlings and affectionate
reciprocities,
And I should like to know where in the world (or rather,
out of it) they expect to go!
[Illustration]
THE DUKE OF PLAZA-TORO
In enterprise of martial kind,
When there was any fighting,
He led his regiment from behind
(He found it less exciting).
But when away his regiment ran,
His place was at the fore, O-
That celebrated,
Cultivated,
Underrated
Nobleman,
The Duke of Plaza-Toro!
In the first and foremost flight, ha, ha!
You always found that knight, ha, ha!
That celebrated,
Cultivated,
Underrated
Nobleman,
The Duke of Plaza-Toro!
When, to evade Destruction's hand,
To hide they all proceeded,
No soldier in that gallant band
Hid half as well as he did.
He lay concealed throughout the war,
And so preserved his gore, O!
That unaffected,
Undetected,
Well connected
Warrior,
The Duke of Plaza-Toro!
In every doughty deed, ha, ha!
He always took the lead, ha, ha!
That unaffected,
Undetected,
Well connected
Warrior,
The Duke of Plaza-Toro!
When told that they would all be shot
Unless they left the service,
That hero hesitated not,
So marvellous his nerve is.
He sent his resignation in,
The first of all his corps, O!
That very knowing,
Overflowing,
Easy-going
Paladin,
The Duke of Plaza-Toro!
To men of grosser clay, ha, ha!
He always showed the way, ha, ha!
That very knowing,
Overflowing,
Easy-going
Paladin,
The Duke of Plaza-Toro!
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
THE BABY'S VENGEANCE
Weary at heart and extremely ill
Was PALEY VOLLAIRE of Bromptonville,
In a dirty lodging, with fever down,
Close to the Polygon, Somers Town.
PALEY VOLLAIRE was an only son
(For why? His mother had had but one),
And PALEY herited gold and grounds
Worth several hundred thousand pounds.
But he, like many a rich young man,
Through this magnificent fortune ran,
And nothing was left for his daily needs
But duplicate copies of mortgage-deeds.
Shabby and sorry and sorely sick,
He slept, and dreamt that the clock's "tick, tick"
Was one of the Fates, with a long sharp knife,
Snicking off bits of his shortened life.
He woke and counted the pips on the walls,
The outdoor passengers' loud footfalls,
And reckoned all over, and reckoned again,
The little white tufts on his counterpane.
[Illustration]
A medical man to his bedside came
(I can't remember that doctor's name),
And said, "You'll die in a very short while
If you don't set sail for Madeira's isle."
"Go to Madeira? goodness me!
I haven't the money to pay your fee!"
"Then, PALEY VOLLAIRE," said the leech, "good-bye;
I'll come no more, for you're sure to die."
He sighed and he groaned and smote his breast;
"Oh, send," said he, "for FREDERICK WEST,
Ere senses fade or my eyes grow dim:
I've a terrible tale to whisper him!"
Poor was FREDERICK'S lot in life,--
A dustman he with a fair young wife,
A worthy man with a hard-earned store,
A hundred and seventy pounds--or more.
[Illustration]
FREDERICK came, and he said, "Maybe
You'll say what you happen to want with me?"
"Wronged boy," said PALEY VOLLAIRE, "I will,
But don't you fidget yourself--sit still.
* * * * *
"'Tis now some thirty-seven years ago
Since first began the plot that I'm revealing.
A fine young woman, wed ten years or so,
Lived with her husband down in Drum Lane, Ealing,
Herself by means of mangling reimbursing,
And now and then (at intervals) wet-nursing.
"Two little babes dwelt in her humble cot:
One was her own--the other only lent to her:
_Her own she slighted._ Tempted by a lot
Of gold and silver regularly sent to her,
She ministered unto the little other
In the capacity of foster-mother.
"_I was her own._ Oh! how I lay and sobbed
In my poor cradle--deeply, deeply cursing
The rich man's pampered bantling, who had robbed
My only birthright--an attentive nursing!
Sometimes, in hatred of my foster-brother,
I gnashed my gums--which terrified my mother.
[Illustration]
One darksome day (I should have mentioned that
We were alike in dress and baby feature)
I _in_ MY cradle having placed the brat,
Crept into his--the pampered little creature!
It was imprudent--well, disgraceful maybe,
For, oh! I was a bad, black-hearted baby!
"So rare a luxury was food, I think
There was no wickedness I wouldn't try for it.
_Now_ if I wanted anything to drink
At any time, I only had to cry for it!
_Once_, if I dared to weep, the bottle lacking,
My blubbering involved a serious smacking!
"We grew up in the usual way--my friend,
My foster-brother, daily growing thinner,
While gradually I began to mend,
And thrived amazingly on double dinner.
And every one, besides my foster-mother,
Believed that either of us was the other.
"I came into his wealth--I bore his name,
I bear it still--his property I squandered--
I mortgaged everything--and now (oh, shame!)
Into a Somers Town shake-down I've wandered!
I am no PALEY--no VOLLAIRE--it's true, my boy!
The only rightful PALEY V. is _you_, my boy!
"And all I have is yours--and yours is mine.
I still may place you in your true position:
Give me the pounds you've saved, and I'll resign
My noble name, my rank, and my condition.
So for my sin in fraudulently owning
Your vasty wealth, I am at last atoning!"
* * * * *
FREDERICK he was a simple soul,
He pulled from his pocket a bulky roll,
And gave to PALEY his hard-earned store,
A hundred and seventy pounds or more
[Illustration]
PALEY VOLLAIRE, with many a groan,
Gave FREDERICK all that he'd called his own,--
Two shirts and a sock, and a vest of jean,
A Wellington boot and a bamboo cane.
And FRED (entitled to all things there)
He took the fever from MR. VOLLAIRE,
Which killed poor FREDERICK WEST. Meanwhile
VOLLAIRE sailed off to Madeira's isle.
[Illustration]
THE ÆSTHETE
If you're anxious for to shine in the high æsthetic line, as a man
of culture rare,
You must get up all the germs of the transcendental terms, and plant
them everywhere.
You must lie upon the daisies and discourse in novel phrases of your
complicated state of mind
(The meaning doesn't matter if it's only idle chatter of a
transcendental kind).
And every one will say,
As you walk your mystic way,
"If this young man expresses himself in terms too deep for _me_,
Why, what a very singularly deep young man this deep young man must
be!"
Be eloquent in praise of the very dull old days which have long
since passed away,
And convince 'em, if you can, that the reign of good QUEEN ANNE was
Culture's palmiest day.
Of course you will pooh-pooh whatever's fresh and new, and declare
it's crude and mean,
And that Art stopped short in the cultivated court of the EMPRESS
JOSEPHINE.
And every one will say,
As you walk your mystic way,
"If that's not good enough for him which is good enough for _me_,
Why, what a very cultivated kind of youth this kind of youth must
be!"
Then a sentimental passion of a vegetable fashion must excite your
languid spleen,
An attachment _à la_ Plato for a bashful young potato, or a
not-too-French French bean.
Though the Philistines may jostle, you will rank as an apostle in
the high æsthetic band,
If you walk down Piccadilly with a poppy or a lily in your mediæval
hand.
And every one will say,
As you walk your flowery way,
"If he's content with a vegetable love which would certainly not
suit _me_,
Why, what a most particularly pure young man this pure young man
must be!"
THE CAPTAIN AND THE MERMAIDS
I sing a legend of the sea,
So hard-a-port upon your lee!
A ship on starboard tack!
She's bound upon a private cruise--
(This is the kind of spice I use
To give a salt-sea smack).
Behold, on every afternoon
(Save in a gale or strong monsoon)
Great CAPTAIN CAPEL CLEGGS
(Great morally, though rather short)
Sat at an open weather-port
And aired his shapely legs.
And Mermaids hung around in flocks,
On cable chains and distant rocks,
To gaze upon those limbs;
For legs like his, of flesh and bone,
Are things "not generally known"
To any Merman TIMBS.
But Mermen didn't seem to care
Much time (as far as I'm aware)
With CLEGGS'S legs to spend;
Though Mermaids swam around all day
And gazed, exclaiming, "That's the way
A gentleman should end!
"A pair of legs with well-cut knees
And calves and ankles such as these
Which we in rapture hail,
Are far more eloquent, it's clear,
When clothed in silk and kerseymere,
Than any nasty tail."
[Illustration]
And CLEGGS--a worthy kind old boy--
Rejoiced to add to others' joy,
And, though he scarce knew why
(Perhaps to please the lookers-on),
He sat there every day--though con-
Stitutionally shy.
At first the Mermen sneered pooh-pooh,
But finally they jealous grew,
And sounded loud recalls;
But vainly. So these fishy males
Declared they too would clothe their tails
In silken hose and smalls.
They set to work, these water-men,
And made their nether robes--but when
They drew with dainty touch
The kerseymere upon their tails,
They found it scraped against their scales,
And hurt them very much.
The silk, besides, with which they chose
To deck their tails, by way of hose
(They never thought of shoon),
For such a use was much too thin,--
It tore against the caudal fin
And "went in ladders" soon.
So they designed another plan:
They sent their most seductive man
This note to CLEGGS to show--
"Our Monarch sends to CAPTAIN CLEGGS
His humble compliments, and begs
He'll join him down below;
"We've pleasant homes below the sea--
Besides, if CAPTAIN CLEGGS should be
(As our advices say)
A judge of Mermaids, he will find
Our lady-fish of every kind
Inspection will repay."
Good CAPEL sent a kind reply,
For CAPEL thought he could descry
An admirable plan
To study all their ways and laws--
(But not their lady-fish, because
He was a married man).
The Merman sank--the Captain too
Jumped overboard, and dropped from view
Like stone from catapult;
And when he reached the Merman's lair
He certainly was welcomed there,
But, ah! with what result?
[Illustration]
They didn't let him learn their law,
Or make a note of what he saw,
Or interesting mem.:
The lady-fish he couldn't find,
But that, of course, he didn't mind--
He didn't come for them.
For though when CAPTAIN CAPEL sank
The Mermen drawn in double rank
Gave him a hearty hail;
Yet when secure of CAPTAIN CLEGGS,
They cut off both his lovely legs,
And gave him _such_ a tail!
When CAPTAIN CLEGGS returned aboard,
His blithesome crew convulsive roar'd,
To see him altered so.
The Admiralty did insist
That he upon the Half-pay list
Immediately should go.
In vain declared the poor old salt,
"It's my misfortune--not my fault,"
With tear and trembling lip--
In vain poor CAPEL begged and begged--
"A man must be completely legged
Who rules a British ship."
[Illustration]
So spake the stern First Lord aloud--
He was a wag, though very proud,
And much rejoiced to say,
"You're only half a captain now--
And so, my worthy friend, I vow
You'll only get half-pay."
[Illustration]
SAID I TO MYSELF, SAID I
When I went to the Bar as a very young man
(Said I to myself--said I),
I'll work on a new and original plan
(Said I to myself--said I),
I'll never assume that a rogue or a thief
Is a gentleman worthy implicit belief,
Because his attorney has sent me a brief
(Said I to myself--said I!)
I'll never throw dust in a juryman's eyes
(Said I to myself--said I),
Or hoodwink a judge who is not over-wise
(Said I to myself--said I),
Or assume that the witnesses summoned in force
In Exchequer, Queen's Bench, Common Pleas, or Divorce,
Have perjured themselves as a matter of course
(Said I to myself--said I!)
Ere I go into court I will read my brief through
(Said I to myself--said I),
And I'll never take work I'm unable to do
(Said I to myself--said I).
My learned profession I'll never disgrace
By taking a fee with a grin on my face,
When I haven't been there to attend to the case
(Said I to myself--said I!)
In other professions in which men engage
(Said I to myself--said I),
The Army, the Navy, the Church, and the Stage
(Said I to myself--said I),
Professional licence, if carried too far,
Your chance of promotion will certainly mar--
And I fancy the rule might apply to the Bar
(Said I to myself--said I!)
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
ANNIE PROTHEROE
A LEGEND OF STRATFORD-LE-BOW
Oh! listen to the tale of little ANNIE PROTHEROE,
She kept a small post-office in the neighbourhood of BOW,
She loved a skilled mechanic, who was famous in his day--
A gentle executioner whose name was GILBERT CLAY.
I think I hear you say, "A dreadful subject for your rhymes!"
O reader, do not shrink--he didn't live in modern times!
He lived so long ago (the sketch will show it at a glance)
That all his actions glitter with the limelight of Romance.
In busy times he laboured at his gentle craft all day--
"No doubt you mean his Cal-craft" you amusingly will say--
But, no--he didn't operate with common bits of string,
He was a Public Headsman, which is quite another thing.
And when his work was over, they would ramble o'er the lea,
And sit beneath the frondage of an elderberry tree;
And ANNIE'S simple prattle entertained him on his walk,
For public executions formed the subject of her talk.
And sometimes he'd explain to her, which charmed her very much,
How famous operators vary very much in touch,
And then, perhaps, he'd show how he himself performed the trick,
And illustrate his meaning with a poppy and a stick.
[Illustration]
Or, if it rained, the little maid would stop at home, and look
At his favourable notices, all pasted in a book,
And then her cheek would flush--her swimming eyes would dance with
joy
In a glow of admiration at the prowess of her boy.
One summer eve, at supper-time, the gentle GILBERT said
(As he helped his pretty ANNIE to a slice of collared head),
"This collared head reminds me that to-morrow is the day
When I decapitate your former lover, PETER GRAY."
He saw his ANNIE tremble and he saw his ANNIE start,
Her changing colour trumpeted the flutter at her heart;
Young GILBERT'S manly bosom rose and sank with jealous fear,
And he said, "O gentle ANNIE, what's the meaning of this here?"
[Illustration]
And ANNIE answered, blushing in an interesting way,
"You think, no doubt, I'm sighing for that felon PETER GRAY:
That I was his young woman is unquestionably true,
But not since I began a-keeping company with you."
Then GILBERT, who was irritable, rose and loudly swore
He'd know the reason why if she refused to tell him more;
And she answered (all the woman in her flashing from her eyes),
"You mustn't ask no questions, and you won't be told no lies!
"Few lovers have the privilege enjoyed, my dear, by you,
Of chopping off a rival's head and quartering him too!
Of vengeance, dear, to-morrow you will surely take your fill!"
And GILBERT ground his molars as he answered her, "I will!"
Young GILBERT rose from table with a stern determined look,
And, frowning, took an inexpensive hatchet from its hook;
And ANNIE watched his movements with an interested air--
For the morrow--for the morrow he was going to prepare!
He chipped it with a hammer and he chopped it with a bill,
He poured sulphuric acid on the edge of it, until
This terrible Avenger of the Majesty of Law
Was far less like a hatchet than a dissipated saw.
And ANNIE said, "O GILBERT, dear, I do not understand
Why ever you are injuring that hatchet in your hand?"
He said, "It is intended for to lacerate and flay
The neck of that unmitigated villain PETER GRAY!"
"Now, GILBERT," ANNIE answered, "wicked headsman just beware--
I won't have PETER tortured with that horrible affair;
If you attempt to flay him, you will surely rue the day."
But Gilbert said, "Oh, shall I?" which was just his nasty way.
He saw a look of anger from her eyes distinctly dart,
For ANNIE was a _woman_, and had pity in her heart!
She wished him a good evening--he answered with a glare;
She only said, "Remember, for your ANNIE will be there!"
* * * * *
The morrow Gilbert boldly on the scaffold took his stand,
With a vizor on his face and with a hatchet in his hand,
And all the people noticed that the Engine of the Law
Was far less like a hatchet than a dissipated saw.
The felon very coolly loosed his collar and his stock,
And placed his wicked head upon the handy little block--
The hatchet was uplifted for to settle PETER GRAY,
When GILBERT plainly heard a woman's voice exclaiming, "Stay!"
[Illustration]
'Twas ANNIE, gentle ANNIE, as you'll easily believe--
"O GILBERT, you must spare him, for I bring him a reprieve,
It came from our Home Secretary many weeks ago,
And passed through that post-office which I used to keep at Bow.
"I loved you, loved you madly, and you know it, GILBERT CLAY,
And having quite surrendered all idea of PETER GRAY,
I quietly suppressed it, as you'll clearly understand,
For I thought it might be awkward if he came and claimed my hand.
"In anger at my secret (which I could not tell before)
To lacerate poor PETER GRAY vindictively you swore;
I told you if you used that blunted axe you'd rue the day,
And so you will, you monster, for I'll marry PETER GRAY!"
[_And so she did._]
[Illustration]
SORRY HER LOT
Sorry her lot who loves too well,
Heavy the heart that hopes but vainly,
Sad are the sighs that own the spell
Uttered by eyes that speak too plainly;
Heavy the sorrow that bows the head
When Love is alive and Hope is dead!
Sad is the hour when sets the Sun--
Dark is the night to Earth's poor daughters,
When to the ark the wearied one
Flies from the empty waste of waters!
Heavy the sorrow that bows the head
When Love is alive and Hope is dead!
[Illustration]
AN UNFORTUNATE LIKENESS
I've painted SHAKESPEARE all my life--
"An infant" (even then at play),
"A boy," with stage-ambition rife,
Then "Married to ANN HATHAWAY."
"The bard's first ticket night" (or "ben.")
His "First appearance on the stage,"
His "Call before the curtain"--then
"Rejoicings when he came of age."
The bard play-writing in his room,
The bard a humble lawyer's clerk,
The bard a lawyer[1]--parson[2]--groom[3]--
The bard deer-stealing, after dark.
[Footnote 1:
"Go with me to a notary--seal me there
Your single bond."
--_Merchant of Venice_, Act I., sc. 3.]
[Footnote 2:
"And there she shall, at Friar Lawrence' cell,
Be shrived and married."
--_Romeo and Juliet_, Act II., sc. 4.]
[Footnote 3:
"And give their fasting horses provender."
--_Henry the Fifth_, Act IV., sc. 2.]
The bard a tradesman[4]--and a Jew[5]--
The bard a botanist[6]--a beak[7]--
The bard a skilled musician[8] too--
A sheriff[9] and a surgeon[10] eke!
Yet critics say (a friendly stock)
That, though with all my skill I try,
Yet even I can barely mock
The glimmer of his wondrous eye!
One morning as a work I framed,
There passed a person, walking hard;
"My gracious goodness," I exclaimed,
"How very like my dear old bard!
"Oh, what a model he would make!"
I rushed outside--impulsive me!--
"Forgive the liberty I take,
But you're so very"--"Stop!" said he.
"You needn't waste your breath or time,--
I know what you are going to say,--
That you're an artist, and that I'm
Remarkably like SHAKESPEARE. Eh?
[Footnote 4:
"Let us, like merchants, show our foulest wares."
--_Troilus and Cressida_, Act I., sc. 3.]
[Footnote 5:
"Then must the Jew be merciful."
--_Merchant of Venice_, Act IV., sc. 1.]
[Footnote 6:
"The spring, the summer,
The childing autumn, angry winter, change
Their wonted liveries."
--_Midsummer Night's Dream_, Act II., sc. 1.]
[Footnote 7:
"In the county of Glo'ster, justice of the peace and _coram_."
--_Merry Wives of Windsor_, Act I., sc. 1.]
[Footnote 8:
"What lusty trumpet thus doth summon us?"
--_King John_, Act V., sc. 2.]
[Footnote 9:
"And I'll provide his executioner."
--_Henry the Sixth_ (Second Part), Act III., sc. 1.]
[Footnote 10:
"The lioness had torn some flesh away,
Which all this while had bled."
--_As You Like It_, Act IV., sc. 3.]
"You wish that I would sit to you?"
I clasped him madly round the waist,
And breathlessly replied, "I do!"
"All right," said he, "but please make haste."
I led him by his hallowed sleeve,
And worked away at him apace,
I painted him till dewy eve,--
There never was a nobler face!
"Oh, sir," I said, "a fortune grand
Is yours, by dint of merest chance,--
To sport _his_ brow at second-hand,
To wear _his_ cast-off countenance!
"To rub _his_ eyes whene'er they ache--
To wear _his_ baldness ere you're old--
To clean _his_ teeth when you awake--
To blow _his_ nose when you've a cold!"
His eyeballs glistened in his eyes--
I sat and watched and smoked my pipe;
"Bravo!" I said, "I recognise
The phrensy of your prototype!"
His scanty hair he wildly tore:
"That's right," said I, "it shows your breed."
He danced--he stamped--he wildly swore--
"Bless me, that's very fine indeed!"
"Sir," said the grand Shakespearian boy
(Continuing to blaze away),
"You think my face a source of joy;
That shows you know not what you say.
"Forgive these yells and cellar-flaps,
I'm always thrown in some such state
When on his face well-meaning chaps
This wretched man congratulate.
"For, oh! this face--this pointed chin--
This nose--this brow--these eyeballs too,
Have always been the origin
Of all the woes I ever knew!
"If to the play my way I find,
To see a grand Shakespearian piece,
I have no rest, no ease of mind
Until the author's puppets cease!
"Men nudge each other--thus--and say,
'This certainly is SHAKESPEARE'S son,'
And merry wags (of course in play)
Cry 'Author!' when the piece is done.
[Illustration]
"In church the people stare at me,
Their soul the sermon never binds;
I catch them looking round to see,
And thoughts of SHAKESPEARE fill their minds.
"And sculptors, fraught with cunning wile,
Who find it difficult to crown
A bust with BROWN'S insipid smile,
Or TOMKINS'S unmannered frown,
"Yet boldly make my face their own,
When (oh, presumption!) they require
To animate a paving-stone
With SHAKESPEARE'S intellectual fire.
"At parties where young ladies gaze,
And I attempt to speak my joy,
'Hush, pray,' some lovely creature says,
'The fond illusion don't destroy!'
"Whene'er I speak my soul is wrung
With these or some such whisperings;
''Tis pity that a SHAKESPEARE'S tongue
Should say such un-Shakespearian things!'
"I should not thus be criticised
Had I a face of common wont:
Don't envy me--now, be advised!"
And, now I think of it, I don't!
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
THE CONTEMPLATIVE SENTRY
When all night long a chap remains
On sentry-go, to chase monotony
He exercises of his brains,
That is, assuming that he's got any.
Though never nurtured in the lap
Of luxury, yet I admonish you,
I am an intellectual chap,
And think of things that would astonish you.
I often think it's comical
How Nature always does contrive
That every boy and every gal,
That's born into the world alive,
Is either a little Liberal,
Or else a little Conservative!
Fal lal la!
[Illustration]
When in that house M.P.'s divide,
If they've a brain and cerebellum, too,
They've got to leave that brain outside,
And vote just as their leaders tell 'em to.
But then the prospect of a lot
Of statesmen, all in close proximity,
A-thinking for themselves, is what
No man can face with equanimity.
Then let's rejoice with loud Fal lal
That Nature wisely does contrive
That every boy and every gal,
That's born into the world alive,
Is either a little Liberal,
Or else a little Conservative!
Fal lal la!
[Illustration]
GREGORY PARABLE, LL.D.
A leafy cot, where no dry rot
Had ever been by tenant seen,
Where ivy clung and wopses stung,
Where beeses hummed and drummed and strummed,
Where treeses grew and breezes blew--
A thatchy roof, quite waterproof,
Where countless herds of dicky-birds
Built twiggy beds to lay their heads
(My mother begs I'll make it "eggs,"
But though it's true that dickies do
Construct a nest with chirpy noise,
With view to rest their eggy joys,
'Neath eavy sheds, yet eggs and beds,
As I explain to her in vain
Five hundred times, are faulty rhymes).
'Neath such a cot, built on a plot
Of freehold land, dwelt MARY and
Her worthy father, named by me
GREGORY PARABLE, LL.D.
He knew no guile, this simple man,
No worldly wile, or plot, or plan,
Except that plot of freehold land
That held the cot, and MARY, and
Her worthy father, named by me
GREGORY PARABLE, LL.D.