THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES IN MEMORY OF CARROLL ALCOTT PRESENTED BY CARROLL ALCOTT MEMORIAL LIBRARY FUND COMMITTEE PREFACE TO "PERSIFLAGE." THE Authors which term includes the Artist and a brace of .bards in bringing this little volume before the public, have done their best to provide a sound mental pabulum for those fortunate enough to secure it, and will not therefore express the diffidence and modesty usual on these occasions. When they reflect that the useful but neglected Mexican for which the Almanac may be purchased represents the cost of two average Shanghai drinks, or an entrance ticket to the Horse Show, they feel that no apology is required on their part ; at the same time, this being their first appearance, they would claim the pri- vileges usually accorded debutants. The object of the Almanac is not to inebriate but to cheer; and they hope that any and every critic will bear this fact in mind and do likewise. This booklet is bound, not in calf but to sell. Li^ht ' " as it is, it has still sufficient specific gravity to knock corners off a cat at forty yards, and so dry is its humour that as a Chest-protector or Liver-pad it will be found invaluable. Any difficult passages or unintelligible jokes will be explained (through the medium of the St. Andrew's Society) on application and Saturday afternoons. Correspondents should write on one side of the paper only, and enclose a five dollar note, not that they will ever see their money back, but as a guarantee of good faith. LAYS OF FIR CATHAY AND OTHERS. A COLLECTION OF ORIGINAL POEMS. BY "TUNG CHI A." ILLUSTRATIONS BY H. H, SHANGHAI : KELLY & WALSH, LIMITED, THE BUND & NANKING ROAD. 1890. IN THE HOPE THAT IT MAT WHILE AWAY AN IDLE HOUR AND LESSEN FOR SOME THE BURDEN AND HEAT OF AN OUTPORT DAY TO OUR FELLOW EXILES THIS LITTLE BOOK IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED. SHANGHAI, December 1889. 2226885 PREFACE. THE following verses have already appeared in print at various times and in various places, thanks to the courtesy of Editors in the Far East. The only excuse for their re-appearance lies in the Illustrations, and with this excuse we trust an indulgent Public will be content. The object of every work should be to elevate. Keeping this end in view, and recognising clearly the fact that the Foreign community in Far Cathay requires no further elevation, we have aimed herein at raising the moral tone of our Celestial hosts. This little book is therefore hopefully recommended to those whose desire it is to "cultivate friendly relations with the Natives." CONTENTS, PAGE. TO MY BOY 5 TO MY COMPRADORE - 8 TO A SLEEPING RICKSHAW COOLIE - 11 LINES TO AN OLD CHIT-BOOK - 14 ODE TO A SUPERANNUATED SUN-HAT - 17 LINES TO A GLOBE-TROTTER - - 22 VOX NOCTIS 26 HEREDITARY BONDSMAN - 28 METAMORPHOSIS - 31 TO A MANILA LOTTERY TICKET - 35 THE STORY OF A HYPHEN - 39 " LA BELLE LANGUE SANS MERCI " - 42 THE SIESTA OF WANG ERH 45 ADIEU TO PEKING - 49 THAT WILY CHAASZE 50 IDYLL - 54 " THE BOAT THAT ONCE " - - 56 COREA - 57 " QUO FAS ET GLORIA DUKANT" 58 A TRIUMPH OF DIPLOMACY - 62 NOT THERE, MY CHILD ! - 64 MAXIMS AFTER HAFIZ - 66 JUPITER PLUVIUS - t*9 SOLILOQUY OF AN INTENDING SPENCERIAN - 74 BALLADE OF THE TEA SEASON 76 A BALLADE OF JUNE - - 78 TO MY PIPE 81 XMAS - 83 MADRIGAL ----- 85 TO MY BOY. TO MY BOY. Thou of the almond eyes ! Reveller in chronic lies (Think not that I despise If I abuse theej ; List, while I sing thy praise, For, since I'll pass my days Near thee, thy playful ways Only amuse me. TO MY BOY. What if thou yearly try Make me believe that thy Mother "have makee die," Leaving thee orphan ? Take thy week's leave and go ! Knowing that I well know Mothers don't perish so Annually often. What if my monthly bills Come, like all worldly ills, Not singly, as do pills, But in battalions ; Ere thou hadst learnt to stand Squeezers took thee in hand, Taught by Confucius and Other rapscallions. What if my under-clothes, Silken and woollen hose, Thy graceless limbs enclose Winter and autumn ? Let it be understood They're for our common good, I knew that matters stood Thus, when I bought 'em. What if I am aware That in thy pantry lair Water 's uncommon rare, Washing's a bother; Useless to sally forth, Capture, with righteous wrath, That ancient scrubbing cloth Thou hast another. TO MY BOY. If, 'neath my very eye, Like clouds in summer sky, My best cheroots should fly, Will I prevent it ? No, boy, go on and steal, 'Tis I, not thou, who feel Foolish, when I appeal, Or would resent it. No ! go thy sage-taught way ; I, thine elected prey, Will not thy right gainsay, Ne'er thy joys mar. Let Each seek the other's ease, Spite of thy frequent squeeze Thou dost thy best to please, Here's to thee, varlet ! TO MY COMPRADORE. TO MY COMPRADORE. Thou of the broad-rimmed tortoise specs, My Compradore ! With whom the nimble merry Mexs. Seem to increase and grow galore, Whose life consists, for all I know, In watching how thy totals grow, Lend me some more ! TO MY COMPRADORE. In vain I've studied thce and thine ; I am content To look upon thee as a mine Of wealth, to use when mine is spent ; To thee in trouble I repair And shift on thee my load of care At ten per cent. My bills grow longer day by day ; The motley crow Of those who clamour for my pay I send to thee to get their due ; Let men discuss it if they please, I still maintain that some Chinese Are human too. Not only in that thou dost lend. I look on thee As on a comforter ; a friend Art thou in all sincerity. No duns of mine e'er tire thy Goodwill, and I admire thy Philosophy. My friend ! I fain would see thee when, On pleasure bent, Thou minglest with thy fellow-men, Thy mind from pidgin all unbent, To see thee and thy pals at play, To hear thee laugh, and watch the way Thy coin is spent. 10 TO MY COMPRADORE. When work is o'er at eventide I often see Thy ready-reckoner cast aside With thoughts of cash and dull sycee; I watch thee go with aspect meek ; Can it be true that thou dost seek Some jambooree ? Oh ! can'st thou haply lay aside That stately air, That calm abstraction, simple pride, And cast off dignity with care ? Hast thou some sing-song chow in view, Or possibly dost thou pursue Some love affair? But be thou sage, or be thou fool, My Compradore ! A gentleman of Nature's school Art thou, and full of simple lore. Thou hast a certain native grace, Full (as thy purse is) is thy face, Lend me some more ! TO A SLEEPING EICKSHAW COOLIE. 11 TO A SLEEPING RICKSHAW COOLIE. 1 sit in the verandah shade And watch him as he sleeps, While slowly up his drooping form A waning sunbeam creeps; Upon his rickshaw's seat he 's laid His head in sweet repose, And soon the setting sun will warm A most plebeian nose. 12 TO A SLEEPING RICKSHA W COOLIE. Thy lot is hard, thy paths are rough, Poor coolie of Shanghai, Dull care is written on thy brow And hunger in thine eye; Thy coat is of the poorest stuff, Thy breeches past all hope; And oh ! 'twill ne'er be thine to know The blessedness of soap. Thy rickshaw is a thing of woe, Thy pace is far from fleet ; A guilty conscience makes thee flee The bobby on his beat; For in thy heart dost not thou know The way thou didst prevail On some poor wretch to pawn to thee His licence, when in gaol ? Sad creature of a few short years, Poor aimless, shiftless man ! Hast ever heard of him who draws The rickshaw of Japan ? He, blithesome being, little cares For forty miles or more, For thee 'twould be to tempt the jaws Of Death to go a score. TO A SLEEPING RICKSHAW COOLIE. IS Poor waif ! one likes thee better far Asleep ; one really feels Rejoiced to pass thee and to find No rickshaw at one's heels, No grating voice is there to jar Upon one, and thy clothes Diffuse no garlic on the wind When thou art in repose. And whilst thou sleepest in the sun, The never-ceasing throng Of those who bend beneath their load Toils wearily along. What matters it should they have won More cash than thee to-day ? Thou hast oblivion, and the road Of Life is none too gay. Dream on then, hapless son of toil ! Dream of a joyous land In which no work of any type Shall come to soil thy hand; Where no grim peelers e'er shall spoil The perft'ctness of rest, And lovely slaves shall lill thy pipe With opium of the best. 14 LINES TO AN OLD CHIT-BOOK. LINES TO AN OLD CHIT-BOOK. Mouldy thou art, thou hast suffered much From mildew and damp and age, But many a vanished hand's soft touch Rests on each faded page. LINES TO AN OLD CHIT-BOOK. 15 Six years I have used thee, and till now Thy cover has lasted well ; Thou knowest far more of that time, I trow, Than ever myself could tell. Six years now viewed in thy light they make One volume upon the shelf; How many, I wonder, till I shall take Leave of life's cares myself? But a lesson I read as I contemplate Thy record, and scan thee o'er, That matters which first seem big with Fate Pass by, and are seen no more. For as I look over the chits sent out, And their marginal short replies, 1 can't recollect what 'twas all about ; Thus Time with fleet Memory flies ! Who was this Mrs. Smith, and why In pencil record her grief? Had she asked me to tiffin, and then had I Refused to her great relief? And here, De Tompkins, who puts, I see, " With pleasure" in violet ink. Had I asked him to dinner, and who was he ? Stay ! when I come to think, De T. was a stranger in the land, Travelling from town to town ; See here, I notice his bold, free hand A few lines farther down. 16 LINES TO AN OLD CHIT-BOOK. This time, however, he puts " Will send " Whal was it ho sent to me ? Had he held had cards, or did he hut lond A novel I'd asked to see ? Yet there are some I remember well, Remember each line I wrote, Yes ! and the smile of the " boy " when I'd tell Where he should take the note. I know that I sent a chit each day, With something a book or flower- Something to give me a chance to say 1 thought of her every hour. 'Twas long ago and yet now, in dreams, Often I sec sweet Kate ; But when 1 think of those days it seems, 'Twas idleness all not Fate. Ah ! idle moments and far between, Idle, yet happy too ! Their sum is not in one's life, I ween, More than a week or two. ***** Ah well ! go back to thy shelf to-day, Rest, since thy labour 's o'er ; Some day, when my hair is turning grey, I'll studv mv vouth once more ! ODE TO A SUPERANNUATED SUN-HAT. 17 ODE TO A SUPERANNUATED SUN-HAT. A time there is for nil things, and that time Has come, old friend, for me and thee to part. Welljiastjhou served me ; in this Eastern clime We've journeyed long together, and my heart Grieves now to leave thce, who hast held my head For many seasons 'neath thy grateful shade. 18 ODE TO A SUPERANNUATED SUN-HAT. Dost recollect the dusky, under-fed Son of the desert, unto whom I paid, In a small store at Aden, eight rupees That I might own thee ? Then I thought thee dear (Being all ignorant yet of Eastern squeeze], But feeling now the hour of parting near I hold thee dearer still, for, as I gaze Upon thy haltered features, every line Brings back to memory something of bright days Alas ! too swiftly sped. Would it were mine To bring them back again, to tread once more That pleasant path, which, looking back, .now seems To fade from out my sight even as a shore, On which the sunset's lingering glamour gleams, Grows dimmer as we gaze, and slowly disappears. It cannot be. So here we separate ; .Mine still to journey on a few brief years Till, battered like thyself, I yield to fate. Yes, when I look upon thee now, old friend, Thy many scars and wrinkles bring me back To far-off spots ; distance and memory lend To each a softening touch. See here, this crack Running from crown to brim, through which protrudes Thy native cork it, I believe, must date From that gay outports' race day, where the moods Of men are those which chiefly emanate, On gala days, from Roederer and Mumin; A merry crowd, in which hats went their way And men did shout till shouting made them dumb Because some chestnut horse could beat a grey. And here again, these marks within thy crown ; Ah yes ! 'twas hut a year ago last iMay ODE TO A SUPERANNUATED SUN-HAT. 19 Since that sweet evening when we wandered down Together, she and I, the path that lay Homeward, through winding valleys from the shrine Of Buddha's temple nestling on the hill ; Awhile we lingered where the fragrant pine Cast its cool shade, and there while she did fill Thy crown with fairy moss and forest fern I made a wreath of flowers for her hair. 20 ODE TO A SUPERANNUATED SUN-HAT. And there we promised that, let Fate be stern, We'd face it side by side, together share Life's pleasures and its pains, its hopes and fears. Where is she now ? I know not ; but I'm told She's married Jones, Q.C. ; and it appears Somehow her love grew very quickly cold When she discovered that my yearly pay Was half her estimate; still, then it seemed to me That love like ours could never pass away, Nay, must endure for all eternity ; Alas for Love's young dream, nought now remains Of all the glamour of those swift-winged hours Save fading memories, and the time-worn stains Left on thy lining by those forest flowers. ODE TO A SUPERANNUATED SUN-HAT. 21 And now, old friend, we part ; thy final lot Shall be cremation, worthy of thy life. No coarser fate for thee. Imagine not That I shall leave thee to prolong the strife 'Gainst time and wear and tear. Not thine to grace Some 'ricksha coolie's soap-ignoring head ; Not thine to hang for sale in some low place. Vale ! old friend ; thy last Adieu is said ! LINES TO A GLOBE TROTTER. LINES TO A GLOBE TROTTER. Trotter of the Globe who trottesl Up and down in every clime, From the coldest to the hottest- Listen to my simple rhyme. LINES TO A GLOBE TROTTER. Thou who seekest pleasure, taking Dollars from thy father's tills, Dollars which he earned in making Soap, or antibilious pills. He, good soul, when he had made his Pile, at home did gladly stay; Lived at ease, and still displayed his H's in his curious way. But he gave thee mental padding (Many hundred pounds it took] ; Then, alas ! he sent thee gadding On the lines laid down by Cook. 24 LINES TO A GLOBE TROTTER. Yes ! I see in thee the feller, Type of this exploring age, Who, with deftly-used umbrella Prods the monkey in his cage. Sadly Egypt sees thee crawling Up the landmarks of her race, Scaling Cheop's tomb and scrawling " Smith his mark " upon its face. Sadly India sees thee linger By her holy Ganges' tide, Pointing out with ribald finger Spots described in Murray's Guide. Not with pious joy, but slowly, Sadly, to his evening prayer Goes the priest of Vishnu, lo ! the Reason is that thou art there. Sad the Japanese who sees tby Curious hat and awful clothes, Feeling that no art can please thy Taste, which nought but shoddy knows. Sad the Daimio's* thoughts and bitter (Ah ! that glory's sun should pale), Whilst his country thou dost litter With cheroots and Bass's Ale. Retired, brought back under poetical license. LINES TO A GLOBE TROTTER. 25 And he fully realises By the note-book in thy hand, Thou will print as many lies as There are temples in his land. Gentle trotter, I would pray thee, Keep away from China's shore- Any other land will pay thee, For thy time and trouble, more. All our Treaty Ports are sleepy, Scarcely worthy of abuse ; Not the sort of place to keep a Diary for future use. No ! we have no startling wonders, Nothing really fit to show, And our most authentic Bunders Have been published years ago. Trotter of the Globe! thy legions Swarm now yearly worse and worse If it keep thee from these regions Not in vain my humble verse. 26 VOX NOCTIS. VOX NOCTIS. When upon my broad verandah, Sunset glowing in the west, Dreamily my thoughts meander And my spirit is at rest, When the woolly bats are squeaking Up and down along the eaves, When the stupid moths are seeking Honey in the ivy-leaves, When the crescent moon is bringing Beauty to the stilly night, And the crickets are beginning Serenades, which end in fight, When the voice of night is calling And the stars their roll-call say, When swift meteors are falling Not unnoticed, as by day, VOX NOCTIS. Then it is the spell is broken, And, loud borne upon the breeze, Statements reach me, rashly spoken, All about the families Of my boy, my cook, my coolie, With their ancestors and friends, Conversation most unruly, Which eventually ends In my emptying the water Standing ready for my tub, Straight and swift towards the quarter Whence is coming the hubbub f^fflffll^^ But I ask myself supposing Half these statements to be true, Is it any use proposing We should civilize this crew? 28 " HEREDITARY BONDSMAN." " HEREDITARY BONDSMAN." Say, what is this hurry of slipshod feet, And what this clamour of brazen gong? See, now they come from the native street With noise and shouting, a motley throng ; Say, is it a riot, some lawless mob Coming to plunder and burn and rob ? Hark, how the rogues give tongue ! "HEREDITARY BONDSMAN." 29 Nay, friend, 'tis only the Taotai's crew ; To-day he calls on the " Foreign man," And these are his lictors and henchmen true, Blustering and swaggering all they can, Sharks that forage by night and day, Semi-official birds of prey, Genuine sons of Han. See in his chair the ta-j$n himself, Minor reflector of China's light, Whose sole idea is the getting of pelf And putting it quietly out of sight. His tenure of office is none too long, He paid for it, more than a simple song, With bribery left and right. Peacocks' feathers and scarlet rags, Hats that have long since had their day, Gaudy tinsel and ragged flags, Signs of a power that all obey ; While the great man's chair o'er the human tide Sways, and he, through his goggles wide, Blinks in a torpid way. Hark ! how the foremost villains howl, Clearing the way for their dreaded lord, Mark on each passing face the scowl, Lowering looks for the hireling horde, Thus in Rome when the Ten held sway Scowled the plebs on the Appian way Mute, till their wrath out-poured. so HEREDITARY BONDSMAN." Ah ! well, 'tis said, in the race of life Only the fittest survive to lead, What matter if " squeeze " be the aim of strife, What if its end be but lies and greed ? Is it not Nature's law to prey : The strong on the weak, to stalk and slay Others, that we may feed. METAMORPHOSIS. 81 METAMORPHOSIS. Muddy streets, a leaden sky, Seedy hat and sorry gamp, With a mile and more to tramp To the train for Peckham Rye Homewards in the gathering dark Goes a weary City clerk. 82 METAMORPHOSIS. Office hours eight to five, On a hundred pounds a year ; Work that scarcely tends to cheer, Even if it keeps alive- One of many Fortune's fools Perched upon high office stools. Nought but work, and cares ahead Holidays are far between ; And the prospects to be seen Scarcely gild the gingerbread- Vistas still of seedy hats, Poverty, and squalling brats. Of the " lower middle " class, " Quite respectable " is he ; Yet but little gaiety Sees he, as the seasons pass ; And what share he does enjoy Savours much of be 7ro Little to excite or cheer After labour's weary round ; His society is found At the " Postboys" over beer : And a well-beloved clay Soothes him at the close of day Eight o'clock, to Mincing Lane, There at mighty ledgers drudge, Or perhaps with musters trudge Up and down in fog and rain, Till 'tis over then at dark Homeward plods the weary clerk METAMORPHOSIS. 33 Far Cathay a sky of blue, And upon a lofty trap Gaily seated, is the chap That in Mincing Lane we knew, But a very different type To our hero with the pipe. 34 METAMORPHOSIS. Now he basks in Fortune's smile, Spick and span are all his clothes, And his tout ensemble shows Laudable attempts at style ; Clubwards every day at dark Gaily drives this lucky clerk. For his pay is rather high, Though he's Junior in the hong; And he qnite forgets the long Dreary days at Peckham Rye ; Pleasantly his ways are cast And he's getting blase fast. You may hear him sagely talk Of the qualities of wine ; And he owns a very fine Palate for detecting " cork ; " Now he knows the very best Thing in smokes ; the "clay" 's at rest. You may hear him voting slow Parties such as China boasts ; Patronising lucky hosts Where he condescends to go ; And he's getting to expect People to be " more select." ******* Now the Moral of my lay I would leave for those to guess Who are always more or less Discontented with Cathay. And I'd ask them to compare What things are, with what they were. TO A MANILA LOTTERY TICKET. 35 iMUST-WI TO A MANILA LOTTERY TICKET, THAT DID NOT WIN. Ticket from Manila, Fortune's effigy ! Thou didst not fulfil a Trust I placed in thee ! Not a paltry fifty Even didst thoti get, Nothing that could lift a Fellow out of debt. 36 TO A MANILA LOTTERY TICKET. Oh ! the chicks I numbered, Hatching one by one, Visions unencumbered By a shroff or dun. Oh ! the airy buildings That I built in Spain, Now the merry gilding 's Off the bread again. Ticket ! when thy figure Lured me on to buy, Was there e'er a bigger Fool on earth than I ? Yet thy number pleased me, Good resolves did melt, And the shopman squeezed me, Knowing how I felt. As some proud aristo, Owning acres fair, With a wish which is to Have a son and heir- Chews with muttered curses His moustache's curl When the trembling nurses Tell him, "It 's a girl ;" TO A MANILA LOTTERY TICKET. 37 As some reckless urchin, Heedless of his legs, Climbs a tree, there searchin' Nests, to steal the eggs, Finds one with elation Doth his fist insert, Till investigation Shows but leaves and dirt ; As a diver seekin' In the galleon's hold, Finds a box (of teak] in Which he think's there 's gold, Vents his deep vexation, Using language not Fit for publication When he finds it's shot; As at merry Margate 'Arry keenly shies At the fruity target Till a " cocoa " flies, Neath his stroke then haileth 'Arriet to share, Mark him, how he paleth When no milk is there ! 38 TO A MANILA LOTTERY TICKET. As all these and more so Do I curse my luck, Wretched ticket, for so Hopelessly I'm stuck. All on thee I trusted, Built my hopes on thee Now, since thou art busted, [ am up a tree ! THE STORY OF A HYPHEN. 39 I/ THE STORY OF A HYPHEN. If with a name that's common you should have a wish to move In Fashion's highest circles, to belong to the Mite, There's nothing like a hyphen to give the needed shove, And, if lived up to properly, to keep you on your feet. When first I came to China's shores, my name was Charley Pott, And then it didn't matter, for I was young and green, But now I've come to understand it helps a man a lot To get his name revised and put a hyphen in between. 40 THE STORY OF A HYPHEN. At first with " C. Pott" on my card I lived as youngsters do ; Class B were my associates, I even knew class C ; I trod the path my forebears trod, amid a jovial crew, While life had beer and skittles it was good enough for me. It was when first I went on leave the subtle change began, I think I felt a craving for a higher sort of life, When next I cnme to China I had taken Mary Ann (Her name was Skeggs, of Richmond Hill) to be my wedded wife. An artless maid in home-made frocks was she in former days, Sang homely little ballads, and always dined at one ; But as the grass-snake sheds its skin so Mary changed her ways, And ere one moon had waxed and waned her work was fully done. Our cards are printed " Mr. and Mrs. Chymley-Pott," We've bought a crest (supporters, sweeps) and have our day " at home," We hire a thirty dollar trap with mafoos who have got Official hats and uniforms of peacock blue and chrome ; THE STORY OF A HYPHEN. 41 We give small dinners, quite select; we shun mixed public balls, And Mary (now called Gladys] has studied her Debrett ; She reads the last Society before a round of calls, And mentions old acquaintances whom somehow I forget. We'll add a " de"" unto our name before another year ; We talk of the " De Chymleys" now, and vaguely say we've got Their portraits at " our place " at home. But all of this, I fear, Though swallowed now, would not have done with simple Charley Pott. And thus as one small silver streak doth England's shores protect, And balks her enemies when they incline to waste and rob, Even so the smallest hyphen makes you wonderfully select, And marks you from the common, the great unhyphened mob. 42 "LA BELLE L ANGUS SANS MERCI." "LA BELLE LANGUE SANS MERCI." Oh, what can ail thee, mournful one, Alone and listless loitering ? One scarcely ever hears thee speak, And never sing. Thou hast an air of learning deep, Of weary wisdom woe begone ; Who look for merriment in thee Discover none. I see a furrow on thy brow (Is it perchance to thinking due?] ; The cud of meditation thou Dost ever chew. When, years ago, a griffin green I landed first on China's shore, I vowed I would devote my days To Chinese lore. "LA BELLE LANGUE SANS MERCI." 43 For me no giddy fashion's round, No youthful vagaries for me ; With purpose firm I tackled first Wade's Tzt Erh Chi. The Hsi Hsiang Chi and San Kuo Chih I read as relaxation gay, With trifles like the Hao Chih Chuan And Erh Tu Met. With Stenl and Williams by my side 1 gathered (as the busy bees Do honey) wisdom whilst I read Ching-pao decrees. But, as with constant daily toil I gleaned the learning of the land, I felt my liver never small Gently expand. One winter's night, not long ago, I read Confucius, half awake ; Then to my bed and dreamed a dream That made me quake. For all around me as I lay A troop of sinologues arose, And fast and faster still they came In serried rows. 44 "LA BELLE LANGUE SANS MERCI." They walked, these shadows of the past, Like monuments of misery At each one's side his teacher stood More sad than he. And fas in life their habit was) Learnedly arguing they went, Each one did quote himself, to show What Mencius meant. And some (in the Colloquial line] Expounded methods all their own, With systems various, to teach Both rhythm and tone. I saw them working, in my dream, With dictionaries gaping wide ******* Till on the cold, hard floor I woke, By my bedside. Bui ere I woke I plainly heard A voice from out their weird ranks call : " Beware ! the ancient Chinese tongue Hath thee in thrall ! " Now this is why I meditate Alone and listless loitering, And why you seldom hear me speak And never sing. THE SIESTA OF WANG ERE. 45 THE SIESTA OF WANG RH, THE TING-CH'AI. He is sleeping well, don't wake him, Let another take the chit ; Let him slumber ; 1 will make him Subject for my musing fit. Let the punkah's gentle breezes Lull him ; let sweet fancy's wings Waft him heavenward, till it pleases Me to change the state of things. 46 THE SIESTA OF WANG ERH. Yes, Wang Erh, now thou art dreaming, Proof, the smile upon thy face Oleaginous, unmeaning, Like the smile of all thy race. What is there, Wang Erh, that pleases In thy dreams ? Hast won at cards ? Dreamest thou of future squeezes, Or of getting round thy pards ? Daily at my desk attending I observe thy stolid mien, But I'm far from comprehending What that stolid look may mean. Is it wisdom ? Tell, I pray thee, Art thou one of Olcott's crew? Hast a double ? Does it pay thee ? Has Nirvana come in view ? Tell me, when I see thee gazing By the hour into space, Does it mean thy spirit's raising Hades in some other place ? Or art merely sadly thinking Of thy far-off evening meal ? Is it haply that a sinking In thy stomach thou dost feel ? THE SIESTA OF WANG ERR. 47 When on my verandah walking, At the hour when twilight blends Day with nigkt, I hear thee talking To a circle of thy friends, Art thou earnestly explaining What Gautama taught to men Karma's doctrine ? Art proclaiming Of the Lotus and its Gem ? How the Dewdrop in the ocean Softly sinks and is at rest How a worldly life's commotion Is but vanity at best ? Or is it alas ! I fear me 'Tis most likely that thy mind (Now thy master is not near thee) Satisfaction grim doth find In a stream of maledictions Poured on that same master's head, With a string of pleasant fictions As to what he's done and said ; Holding forth as one who knows he Grasps his subject, thou dost trace Visions of a future rosy, When the hated foreign race 48 THE SIESTA OF WANG ERH. Shall have left Cathay and vanished In a general bankrupt rout, Every foreign tai-pan banished, The Caucasian quite played out. Further, p'raps, the fancy takes thee, Thou forseest at thy feet Goodly pickings ; China makes thee Admiral of all her fleet. Sphinx-like creature ! thou whose mind is Quite inscrutable to me, Do not think thy master blind is To the charms of mystery. What if thou dost shirk thy duties, 'Tis the nature of thy kind, I revere the mystic beauties Of thy protoplasmic mind. But, Wang rh, confusion take thee Never wert thus bold before, Wretched Pagan, I must wake thee, Since thou hast begun to snore ! ADIEU TO PEKING. 49 ADIEU TO PEKING. The hour is twilight, and as down the stream, Bathed in the sunset's last warm glow, I glide, Far o'er yon red-tipped hills the first star's gleam Doth herald Night's approach : sweet eventide Speaking in solemn language all its own Of rest which follows toil, of Peace and calm, Of life whose golden sands too quickly run Toward their close How softly, like a balm From westward, comes the gentle breeze of eve, Which, as it passes onward, softly sighs, Sighing as if it too were sad to leave Each well-loved scene beneath these northern skies. Oh, wandering wind ! dost ever see again A spot once left behind ? If it be so, And once again o'er Peking's hill-girt plain It be thy lot softly some day to blow, There linger thou until the moon doth shine, Casting its glamour o'er each well-known spot, Then whisper gently to the waving pine On yonder hills : tell them it matters not If absence last, so too shall memory, Tell it, and bring their answer back to me. 50 THAT WILY CHAASZE. THAT WILY CHAASZE, OR HARTE-FELT REVERSES. Which I wish to remark, And my language is plain, That for ways that are dark And for tricks that are vain The wily Chaasze is peculiar, Which the same I am free to maintain. If the guile I recall Which was played upon me Be not common to all And to every Chaasze, Well rules are most proved by exceptions, Which the same may be common in tea. THAT WILY CHAASZE. 51 It was early in May That we met in Shanghai, Which his manner was gay And his spirits were high ; His name there's no reason in stating And a kind of revenge might imply. 'Twas with manner elate That he came unto me And proceeded to state All the prospects of Tea, And he held forth a roseate vision Of profits, most pleasing to see. For he quoted me rales And proceeded to show, Giving figures and dates, How the market would go ; When he offered me shares in the business It seemed like a sin to say " No." So he went to Hankow While I stayed in Shanghai, And he wrote me " Ningchow Was the ticket to buy," Then he showed me the probable total Of profits, exceedingly high. Which the same seemed to me Very easy and grand, For this " pidgin " of tea I did not understand, And the knowledge I've lately acquired Has been bought with my " balance in hand." 52 THAT WILY CHAASZE. Now the deals that were made By that reckless Chaasze And the prices he paid Were quite frightful to sec, Till at last I grew frightened, and wrote him To " chip in" no further for me. Which he wrote me to say He considered it rough To go back in this way, But he'd purchased enough, And how he must hurry to London, To see what became of the stuff. Which his reasons seemed fair Yet, in spite of them, I Was a victim to care Till the end of July, When he wired me some facts about auctions Which showed me that Tea was a lie. For the tale that he told Dashed my hopes to the ground, Since our teas had been sold With a loss to the pound Of 2d. or more ; " and my debit He hoped would be readily found. Which I know thai bad luck Must occasional come, And that when a man's stuck 'Tis no use to be glum ; But the guile I allude to is riling Especial when played by a chum. THAT WILY CHAASZE. 53 For I afterward found, When the " sales " I did see, That this twopence a pound Was including a fee For tasting and one for inspecting, And the same to my partner from me. Then his "charges" and freights Were most startling to me, Of returns or rebates Not a sign could I see, And I noticed a trifle for godown Which the same I had thought to have free. Which is why I remark, And my language is plain, That for ways that are dark And for tricks that are vain The wily Chaasze is peculiar, Which the same I am free to maintain. 54 IDYLL. IDYLL. All softly the breeze o'er Ssu Ping tai Comes murmuring thro' the trees Where the cheerful cricket with fitful cry Expresses his wish to please. I sit on the temple steps and g;ize Away on the hillside dark Where the moon is lingering with silvery rays Inciting the dogs to bark. Bright moon ! how many shall gaze on thee, Both beggar and prince, to-night; What loving glances reflected be In thy soft, romantic light ! I wander again by Tagus stream As I wandered years ago, And thy rays o'er the wavelets lingering gleam, Caressing them as they flow. IDYLL. 55 By many a minstrel there thou'rt praised, To-night, on the gay guitar- Hark ! far below me a voice is raised " Ta Lao yen shang yi ko ta." I shudder, yet once again I roam And my fancy leads me well, For I find myself in Giotto's home, Bright gem in a golden shell. Fair moon, how lovingly dost thoti dwell In this pure Italian sky Again to my reverie, like a knell From below, comes " Shao la pu mai." And yet once more I am off in dreams By the Serpentine's slow tide, Where many a Jack enraptured seems ' With his own Jill by his side; I think I hear what these lovers say, Soft nothings whispered low ; Ah yes ! and I hear not far away Re-echo " Chn mien popo." Envoy . Ah Luna ! Hi on surely dost waste thy lima To shine on this soulless race, Co, cast thy light on some worthier clime, And leave a big cash in thy place. 56 "THE BOAT THAT ONCE." 11 THE BOAT THAT ONCE." The boat that once for far Chungking Was built and pushed ahead Now idle lies, as if the Ring That built that boat were dead ; 'Tis thus another venture ends On Woosung's slimy shore, And men who hoped for dividends Now hope for them no more. No more are meetings edified With visions roseate, The boat which swings with every tide Tells its sad tale too late ; For British Trade so seldom wakes ; The only sign it gives Is when it sometimes makes mistakes- Like this to show it lives ! CORE A. 57 COREA. Lnnd of the Morning Calm ! and evening rest, And afternoon repose ! Ihy life's lot seems A dolce far niente undistressed By labour's pain or keen ambition's schemes. Keep thou thine ancient slate ; since countless years Have thrown no wave of progress on thy shores, Best now to stand aside, nor share the fears Of those who surge and clamour at thy doors. Still let thy sons, like shadows of the past, White clad and silent, watch the distant strife Nor seek to know, nor long the die to cast Which shall with knowledge mar thy simple life. Ah ! Morning Calm ! sweet in these latter days Upon thy dreamy Lotusland to gaze. 58 "QUO FAS ET GLORIA DUA'ANT." "QUO FAS ET GLORIA DUKANT." Ho ! firemen make ye ready ! Make boots and helmets bright ! For we shall march with lighted torch Along the Bund to-night. The Fathers of the City Have issued a decree That we shall greet with pageant meet Our latest Royalty. QUO FAS ET GLORIA DUKANT." 59 The Grand Duke Alexander, From Holy Russia's land, Hath left his home abroad to roam To see and understand. From Holy Russia comes he To China's ancient shores (Russia that buys the best Boliea, Then makes it into " Tablet Tea," And on the duty scores]. The Yangtze bore him hither Upon its muddy stream, From far Hankow where long, I trow, His memory will be green. They met him there with speeches And fetes of every kind, They came to meet him fully dressed, His Highness (rigged in " whites "j confessed His togs were left behind. And here, before he landed, The elders of the State Had pondered schemes and furnished means To greet the potentate. Shanghai may have her failings, At times deserve rebuke, But come what may no man shall say She doth not love a Duke ! 60 QUO FAS ET GLORIA DUKANT." And now is all excitement, On every tongue his name, And to have seen him is, I ween, Of each and all Ihe aim. Now empty and deserted Each fashionable spot, For who would slay on such a day Where he, the Duke, is not ? They gave him for his dinner Far more than he could eat; All Shanghai's pride together hied, The Taotai and his suite : He listened to the speeches, The music from the Band, And they were proud to whom he bowed, And they who shook his hand. Now firemen, make ye ready ! Make boots and helmets bright ! For there's to be a jamboree Along the Bund to-night. The Fathers of the City A banquet do prepare, A feast for those who wield the hose, Who brave the flame and glare. " QUO FAS ET GLORIA DUKANT. 61 And now, sliould Fate propitious Some day send Royally Again this way, let each one pray That he be there to see ! 62 A TRIUMPH OF DIPLOMACY. A TRIUMPH OF DIPLOMACY. 'By an Imperial decree the Foreign Ministers at Peking have been entertained at a banquet at the Tsung-li Yamen and each Knvoy presented with a ju-yi, or sceptre, and four rolls of Palace silk." Dail Time : Midnight, 7th March, 1889. Place : A Legation salon in Peking. (Shade of a certain diplomatist discovered contemplating a jade-mounted "Ju-yi."} Shade, loquitur: And this is the result ! This, then, the end Of thirty years of British policy ! Nigh thirty years have sped since lone Taku Rung at the shock of British shot and shell Since I enjoyed the somewhat frugal fare Provided by the Board of Punishments And this the end 1 Why, after Wan-shou-shan A TRIUMPH OF DIPLOMACY. 63 I could have purchased half a score of such For twice their weight in cash ! A jade Ju-yi ! And now, than jade more fickle, " as you wish " They say and softly add" 'twill not be done ; " And one more yesterday has gone to make The Future harder still now we exchange A privilege, our due and ours by right, For Yamen dinners arid for toys like this ! Since Esau sold his birthright for a rneal There's been no weaker deed ; now China still Can say no " foreign man" has seen her Throne, While Europe greets the Representatives Of Chinese arrogance with courtly grace. A jade Ju-yi ! 't had been a keener jest To give some railway contract, or a bid For English shirtings at a paying price, That we at least might have the wherewithal To gild the pill of incapacity. But no ! so this is all ! (Enter famous liring diplomat] : No, Sir, not all ! No ! gifted predecessor whose sweet shade Does me great honour by this timely call, There's more than this more solid proof exists To mark the value of diplomacy And bring us lasting fame. Shade : Ah ! I am glad- Glad I was misinformed and pray, sir, what Marks to all time our honest work's reward, Our labour's crown ? Famous living diplomat: Four rolls of palace silk ! (Exit Shade, sorrowfully.} 64 NOT THERE, MY CHILD! NOT THERE, MY CHILD! (OVERHEARD IN THE PUBLIC GARDENS.) Filius loquitur : Father, I am aweary, I am tired Of the unending dullness of Shanghai ; Fain would I leave hehind me Yangtze's tide To seek a change beneath some brighter sky. See ! yonder swiftly skimming towards the south White winged sea-birds vanishing from sight; Now they are gone Oh happy, happy birds, Tell me, say whither do they wend their flight ? Surely they seek a land where there is more Of joy in life ; oh, tell me of that shore. Pater respondit : My son, those birds were gulls, and many such Fly to an island in the southern sea Far-famed Hongkong whose lofty Peak uplifts Its height above a British colony, Where hill and vale in tropic verdure clad Combine to make a landscape full of grace. But be content, my son, here in Shanghai, Flat tho' it be, we have the better place. There are some things that nature cannot give Which men prize most in this enlightened age, And here we have no legislative freaks, No " government by parties in a rage." We are not vexed with rulers and their cranks, NOT THERE, MY CHILD! 65 Beyond the Consul's yearly modest fee, And reading of Municipal reports, Shanghai enjoys ideal liberty. We know, moreover, as the adage says, More things than gold reflect the sunlight's gleam ; But in that verdant isle all geese are swans, And substance spun from many an airy dream. Life is all stir and rush, the air doth teem With schemes and plans and bubbles without end. 'Twero well to pray a Reclamation scheme Might be enforced, to help reclaim and mend The wicked ways and artful little plans Not only of the brokers but the " broke ; " And clear the tangled speculative web Of some few spiders ere the last fly choke. My son, I've seen the sweetest blossoms grow Upon the mighty sleeping crater's side, And some of Hongkong's fairest flowers to-day Think, as at 5 p m. they Peak-wards ride, That, thanks to Punjoms, Jelebus and such Bright treasures of the Golden Chersonese, Whose ample dividends can never fail, Life's prospect is a dream of gilded ease, Alas ! bright dream : rise shades of Selangor ! And ye with even more metallic names ! Shade of Pope Ilennessy ! great Bowcn's ghost ! Come and unfold your knowledge of these games ! My son, seek not a too attractive spot, The falcon soars unseen in brightest sky. Better, by far, live safely on the plain, Than" scale the Peak and find yourself sky high ! 66 MAXIMS AFTER HAFIZ. MAXIMS AFTER HAFIZ. To a Public Serum', in doubt for his Soul.] My son, dost tliou long for promotion ? Dost pine for advancement in life ? Art pushing ? Dost cherish a notion That he who holds out in the strifi 1 For place or for pelf or for favour Possesses in comfort his soul ? Come, hearken, and I will endeavour To show thee the way to thy goal. Now first I would have thee he minded The thing which thou callest thy soul Thou shall put it far from thee thou'lt find it (In part if perchance not the whole] When Ihou hast attained thine ambition. Should Fortune, however, come late And thy soul go meanwhile to perdition, No blame upon thee it is Fate. MAXIMS AFTER HAFIZ. 67 Then call it not thine lay no fetters Upon it for stony and long Is the road give it up to thy belters Who parted with theirs for a song. Then follow their weaknesses blindly, By all their pet hobbies be led, For so shall they look on thee kindly And none shall go over thy head. And next I would have thee to notice A maxim important in life, The which, from a wise man to quote, is " Propitiate duly the wife " Of him who can help thee." Remember How Joseph in prison once ate Dry bread, all for slighting a member Of a stylish Egyptian set. And if thou thyself shouldest marry (Some girl with a tolerable dower No daughter of Tom or Harry, But someone whose Pa' is in power] Then show her thy plans and thy system Set forth in a favourable light, For so shall she ably assist 'em, That is, if thou'st chosen aright. For first she shall ask to thy table All such as have " plums" in their gift, Old nabobs and such as are able To give thee a coveted lift. And in thine (esthetic apartments No juniors or subaltern trash- Not these only Heads of Departments Whose smiles are worth something in cash. 68 MAXIMS AFTER HAFIZ. Doth not the sun shine most brightly On the planets nearest in space ? At head-quarters, my son, the more lightly Shalt thou jump to promotion and place. " Far better in Rome to be second Than forgotten, passed over in Gaul," Eye-service most worthy is reckoned, The absent must go to the wall. Now shouldest thou find on life's highway Some honest, industrious wight Whose way in this world is not thy way, Who works to the best of his light, Who, seeing his task, tries to do it, Not seeking for favour or gain Reap the fruit, oh my son, see thou to il So shall not his labour be vain. Then prosper my son and may Allah See fit of his goodness to give Thee cunning, which more than all valour Shall help thee with profit to live. 'Twas said by the great Jewish writer That vain is this life. That is so But vanity somehow looks brighter When seen from above than below. JUPITER PLUVIUS. 69 8^7v K X V7^/V &r " ' 1 JUPITER PLUVIUS. (A CLASSICAL FRAGMENT.) 'Twas in the palmy days of ancient Greece To'ards sea-bound Corinth, on whose classic plain That year were being held the sacred games, From out Minerva's city came a train Of heroes comely as the sons of Zeus, Hearts buoyant with expectancy of fame ; With purpose firm, all eager for the fray, Eleven dauntless souls to Corinth came. Then in the streets of Corinth when 'twas known That these from Athens were upon the way, Unto the market-place the elders came With joyful steps and decked in glad array ; 70 JUPITER PLUVIUS. And then sped gay-decked galleys from the shore Seawards in haste to meet each welcome guest ; While some made gay the streets, and others brought Unto the banquet-hall the city's best. And when they came unto the harbour-mouth, The elders, standing by the marble gate, Brought them with great rejoicing on the way To lodge them with the Chief Men of the State ; And all men wondered at their stately mien, And at their gorgeous raiment wondered more, For tho' the voyage had been wild and long No trace thereof these peerless heroes bore. First with an Ernest visage walked their chief, Youthful in feature, tho' his wondrous skill And prowess keen in all the sports of Greece Had long been sung by hamlet, lake and hill. Versed too was he in subtle barter lore And thus, where men were wont to congregate To traffic in the riches of the east, Well known was he and eke his profits great. And after him six sturdy sous of Mars, Stern-trained in war-craft but right willing now To seek awhile the gentle arts of peace And win fresh laurels for Minerva's brow. With them came other four whose high pursuits, Commerce and law, had in Pineus fame. Proudly midst Corinth's sous these champions strode And, betting freely, on their way they came. JUPITER FLU VI US. 71 But in Olympus, when the Immortals saw The pride ami glory of these sons of Greece Was wrath ; (it was the twilight of the Gods] And great Jove swore, ay, by the Golden Fleece, That not in vain had he been "Pluvius" called, Swore it, and next rude Boreas he bade Gather the winds and loose the Hoods of heaven That rain might fall till mortals be dismayed. And thus o'er Corinth were the skies o'ercast With lowering clouds, and ceaseless fell the rain For forty days or more, until the hearts Of men grew heavy, and their waiting pain ; Now in the market-place no joyful throng For all men sat in restless gloom within. And from the classic plain no sound was heard Of contest, save the croaking bull-frog's din. 12 JUPITER PLUVIUS. Thus then they wailed many weary days Minerva's children, chcerfnllesl of guests, And hoped for brighter skies, the while their hosts Put their endurance to some friendly tests. For there was banqueting within the halls, And many a:ii;lior;e of goodly wine. And eke the dance, and dice and games of chance. In one and all did the Athenians shine. And when it seemed the skies were made of lead While ever fell the sullen, silent rain, Until no hope was left and they were forced To turn, frustrated, to their homes again ; Then spake th' Athenian leader : " Let us see, "Tho' Jove be wroth, if Nepiune favour still " Now let each state a four-oared galley 'quip " That we may prove you somc\vhat of our skill." Thus on the element which wrought them woe They met, these champions, four on either side, And swifter than the feet of Hermes sped Their nimble galleys o'er the swollen tide : Vet Corinth's mighty strokes are all in vain, The bird of Pallas will not brook defeat ; Bend ye, broad backs, and iron sinews strain ! But Athens wins. Ye, too, the victors greet. Then, when the Thunderer looked from Heaven and saw The heroes all undaunted still, tho' sad His wrath relented ; th;is bright Sol again Burst from the clouds and all the Earth was glad. Brightly he shone, as if he too were fain To see brave deeds ; and soon the floods were dried ; So men poured glad libations to the Gods And to the plain th' impatient heroes hied. JUPITER PLUVIUS. 73 But nil the record of ihose glorious days Before th' Athenians turned them to their homes, Is it not graven in the hearts of men And told o' nights when dreary winter comes ; These, mighty deeds were done on either side, And old men still will shake their heads and tell How long the issue undecided swayed Until at last to Corinth Victory fell. 74 SOLILOQUY OF AN INTENDING SPENCERIAN. SOLILOQUY OF AN INTENDING SPENCERIAN. To be, or not be ; that is the question ; Whether 'tis lilting in the mind to sulTer For KuSoc' sake, and with betowelled head Eager attempt to grasp some vague ideas Of what the Master means which, if not grasped, Must seem as though they were. To spout ; to quote ; And in so doing preach to coarser clay The all unknowable 'tis a consummation Devoutly to be wished. To spout ; to quote ; To quote ; perchance to know; ay, there's the rub ; And in this knowing lies our deep concern ; For what the subsequent results may be When we have shuffled off with weary toil Our native humours, and to Spencer cling, Must make us pause. There is the argument That makes us look before we take our leap. For who would bear with every-day routine, Tea-table gossip, and dull average talk In which the learned tread on common ground With lesser lights, nay, who would bear the pangs, The daily snubs of office, and the spurns That patient genius of the ignorant takes, When they themselves might a small circle, make, Whose centre Spencer, and whose orb include SOLILOQUY OF AN INTENDING SPENCERIAN. 75 First Principles and Sociology ? Ay, who would for a moment hesitate, But that the dread of something in these books, The undiscovered country o'er whose bourne Some dabblers have been lost something at which The o'ertnxed brain will stop puzzles the will And makes us rather bear those ills we have Than fly to others that we know not of? 'Tis thus the native hue of resolution Is sicklied o'er by the expense of thought. Yet, there's a consolation to our mind, That, knowing nothing, we can rightly call Ourselves Agnostic. May be that 'twill pass Until our little play shall have its end. 76 BALLADE OF THE TEA SEASON. BALLADE OF THE TEA SEASON (SUXG BY A WEARY CHAASZEE.) The willow blossom, while as snow, Drifts gently on the summer breeze, Along the Bund swift brokers go Glad with expectancy of fees ; - The weary coolie rests and sees The sunlight on the river chased ; Soft comes the hum of laden bees Ah ! I have many teas to taste ! BALLADE OF THE TEA SEASON. 77 Oh, merry May ! 'twere sweet, I trow, To lie beneath the spreading trees Where daffodils and daisies grow, To rest and dream in perfect ease. Alas, for me are none of these, Around me is the noise and haste Of brokers' haggle, weighers' squeeze- All ! I have many teas to taste ! Here in my tea-room damp and low I dream of sunny, verdant leas, And sadly wander to and fro Between long tables strewn with teas ; Soon riverborne towards the seas The fleetest steamers will have raced, And things will slacken, by degrees, But I have many teas to taste ! Envoy . Madame ! when first the season's leas Your dainty table shall have graced, Think of the miserable Chaaszees Who still have many teas to taste ! 78 A BALLADE OF JUNE. A BALLADE OF JUNE. 95 ix THE SHADE. All fierce the God of Day doth shine, And grateful comes the punkah breeze I am alone the hour is mine To waste in dreaming as I please. Nought but the drowsy hum of bees Comes on the heated breath of noon ; My thoughts are far o'er western seas ;- I want a day of English June ! A BALLADE OF JUNE. 79 To be at rest and soft recline Beneath the shade of spreading trees, Where thrush and nightingale combine Their rich yet gentle rhapsodies ; To hear the distant melodies Of labour-softening rustic tune ; Alas ! Cathay has none of these; I want a day of English June ! To hear melodious lowing kine Come winding homeward o'er the leas To watch the sunset's soft decline In gently paling harmonies ; To see the shadowy mysteries O'er hill and dale of crescent moon ; Alas ! Cathay has none of these; I want a day of English June ! Envoy . Oh Lotus eater, if life please Thee where 'tis " always afternoon," Keep thou thy sad, pale reveries, Give me a day of English June. 80 TO MY PIPE. TO MY PIPE. Tom Moore has said there's nought Like Love's young dream, and taught How love's sweet fruit's a sort Best when it's ripe. Poor chap ! he did not know Better when writing so, Not his, when bored, to go Home to his pipe. TO MY PIPE. 81 No, Love ! the manifold Charms which thou dost unfold, Cannot a candle hold To a sweet briar. Let those who like it fly To thy sad altars. I Have no desire to try That kind of fire. Beauties in maiden's face, (Likewise her figure's grace), Grow, at a frightful pace, Lesser and lesser. Not so my meerschaum's bowl, Which, as the seasons roll, With a more cheerful glow'll Cheer its possessor. Of one 'tis said that he, Full of misanthropy,, Asked in his wrath to be Saved from his friends. No pipe could he possess Who would himself express Thus, e'en in wrath, unless At his wits' ends. 82 TO MY PIPE. Thou, pipe, dost ever draw Me with sweet solace, nor Kver disturb with jaw Soft meditations. Always at hand in need, Warmest of friends, indeed Nothing can ever lead Thee to impatience. Happy the man who may See, at the close of day, All trouble's grim array Vanish in smoke. To him the imps who ride Close at the Horseman's side, O'er whom old Horace sighed, Seem but a joke. XMAS. 'Tis Xmas night, and as the bottles pass I soe our worthy host Uprise with " Friends, let each one (ill his glass " To drink a Xmas toast." And now with " headed bubbles " on the brink The sparkling wine doth foam, While silence reigns unbroken as we drink The toast " Old Folks at Home." And at the words on many a face I see A kind of shadow fall- Shadows which gently tell the tale that we Are exiles after all. 84 A' MAS. Old Folks at Home ! They drink our health as we Drink theirs to-day, no doubt ; The' far apart, yet still from o'er the sea Their hearts to ours go out. Yes ! tho' our lot have placed us in the race Of life, for years apart, Yet theirs, I take it, still the warmest place And first, in every heart. MADRIGAL. 85 MADRIGAL. Were I her glove That little hand she now so coldly gives I'd hold so lightly yet so lovingly, So soft caress, I am all sure that she Would turn in pity to a heart that lives But for her love. Were I her veil Into those eyes which now disdainful glance, Bright eyes which 'neath their silken lashes gleam, I'd gaze all day, and gazing fondly dream That love did soften them, and then perchance At last prevail. Were I her fan Each breath of air that played upon her face Would plead for me so sweetly that her scorn Must turn to love, e'en as the sunflowers turn Unknowingly their heads towards the place Where shines the sun. Were I her watch I'd nestle by her side and, slow or fast, Her heart should beat with mine, and mine should tell It's old, old tale so constantly and well That she should listen, and her heart at last Love's flame would catch. Were I all these, alack, the story's old, I love her true, and she, my love, is cold. ill I II Mill in mi A 000058182 7