8 
 
 i- 
 
 K< 1' 

 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 !-J>- 
 
 «
 
 ■>;»
 
 FM. FEELING. AND FANCY,
 
 / - ^ — ' 
 
 FUN, 
 FEELING, AND FANCY: 
 
 UEIKG A SE21ES OF 
 
 Saijs aixtr l^nrus. 
 
 BY 
 
 JOHN GEOEGB WATTS, 
 
 AUTHOR Oy "CLABE, THE GOLD SEEKEB," ETC. 
 
 " Heuce. loathed Melaacholy 
 
 Of Cerberus and blackest midniglit born." 
 
 JllLTOM. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 W. KENT & CO., PATERNOSTER ROW. 
 
 ilDCCCLXI.
 
 LDMDON : 
 
 T. HAId! ILD, P'^Ji^^'R, SIIOB LANK, 
 
 I 
 
 FLEET STREET.
 
 
 ^ -I // 
 
 TO 
 
 HARRISON WEIR, Esq., 
 
 FROM FKIENDLY INTERCOURSE WITH WHOM 
 
 I HAVE DERIVED MANY ADVANTAGES, 
 
 THIS 
 
 LITTLE BOOK IS INSCRIBED. 
 
 775421
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 In sending forth another volume of verse into 
 the world, I feel a renewal of much of that anxiety 
 which, three years ago, I experienced when issuing 
 my " Clare, the Gold-Seeker," etc. The reception 
 awarded that volume was certainly very encouraging, 
 and the subsequent associations which I formed 
 through my simple collection of songs were the source 
 of much gratification to me ; yet the same feelings 
 of hope, doubt, and fear have again taken possession 
 of my breast, and will, in all probability, remain 
 masters thereof until such time as a public verdict 
 shall have been pronounced upon the present ven-
 
 X PREFACE. 
 
 ture. I trust tliat this is a wholesome feeliug. Put- 
 ting one's thoughts into black and white is a very 
 serious affair, even when they have a humourous 
 tendency ; hence I have endeavoured to do my best 
 in all that this book contains. Some of the lighter 
 pieces were written out of sheer fun ; others of them, 
 I trust, will readily disclose to the reader the moral 
 aim which actuated their production. The " Am- 
 bassador's Dream," for example, I wrote while burn- 
 ing with indignation at the insult a white skin had 
 dared to put upon one to whom the Great Creator 
 had chosen to award a complexion less fair. 
 
 Several of the shorter, and one or two of the 
 longer compositions have already enjoyed a large cir- 
 culation, having appeared, with illustrations by able 
 artists, in the columns of popular periodicals to which 
 I have been privileged occasionally to contribute. 
 The remainder — and by far the greater portion of the 
 volume — makes an appearance in living type for the 
 first time. That the critics who so kindly com-
 
 PREFACE. xi 
 
 mended my last volume, and the Public who so 
 generously received it, may be able conscientiously 
 to commend and accept the present perhaps more 
 daring effort, is my deep desire and most ambitious 
 hope. 
 
 16, Yoke Teeeace, 
 
 AjjBXSY Road, Caubeewell, 
 January dOth, 1861.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 — f- — 
 F U N. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The Elopement 3 
 
 A KiSs IN THE Dark 16 
 
 The Ambassadoe's Dream . ^ 18 
 
 The Rejected Barber 23 
 
 The Foetum;-Teller 28 
 
 The Phantom Milkman ; or, the Hauntei> Pump . 34 
 
 Misses and Muses 41 
 
 How Daniel O'Eourke won Miss Xklfa- O'Gradt . i? 
 
 The Miser's Dream 53 
 
 i would that i were younger .... 60 
 Miss Bunks and Her Flunkey ; or, A Marriage in 
 
 High Life 62
 
 XIV CONTENTS. 
 
 FEELING AND FANCY. 
 
 VA.UV. 
 
 My Elysium 71 
 
 The Cofntey Fareiee . .... 74 
 
 About the Fiee 76 
 
 moening and evenrng 79 
 
 Robert Buens. — In Memoeiam 80 
 
 Compensation 83 
 
 Old Cheistmas .85 
 
 The Country Chaie-Mender 87 
 
 The Avenger 88 
 
 Song op the Steam-Engine 93 
 
 Beautiful May 95 
 
 Epitaph on a Feienp 96 
 
 Wintee's Vagaeies 97 
 
 Merry-go-Eound. a May-Day Song foe Little Folk 100 
 
 The Sailor's Love-Lettee 102 
 
 God send a Goodly Harvest 104
 
 CONTETSTTS. XV 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Mother's Portrait 106 
 
 Spring . ......*.. 107 
 
 A Heart's Eemembrauce . . . 109 
 
 Let's be Happy while we can . . . .113 
 
 King Christmas 114 
 
 Wanderings with my Mtjse 116
 
 FUN. 
 
 Haste thee, Nymph, and bring with thee. 
 Jest and youthfid Jollity, 
 Quips and cranks, and wanton wiles, 
 Nods and becks, and wreathed snides, 
 Such as hang on Hebe's cheek, 
 And lore to Hve iii dimple sleek ; 
 Sport that wrinkled Care derides. 
 And Laughter holding both his sides." 
 
 MiLTOX.
 
 FUN. 
 
 THE ELOPE^^IEXT. 
 
 Sir GorsMOND Grub was round as a tub, 
 His forehead was narrow, his eyes were small, 
 
 His stature was short ; so, folk said, in sport, 
 That when he got tipsy he'd not far to fall. 
 
 Sir Gourmond Grub had a marvellous nose 
 (Of his bottle was Diore than^jas^my fond), 
 
 A beacon red to his dull thick head, 
 
 "Which warned of the barren coast beyond. 
 
 A bachelor was Sir Gourinond G., 
 
 Though far, far advanced on the road of life ; 
 
 He could talk of his grounds, of his horses, and hound- 
 But the foolish old man couldn't boast of a wife. 
 
 The sports of the field were for aye on his tongue, 
 And the spoils of the chase in each room were hung— 
 Brushes of foxes, the skin of a bear, 
 
 Antlers and horns seemed to dart from the wall. 
 And threatened to toss you up the stair. 
 
 As you entered Sir Gourmond's grand old hall.
 
 4 rrN. 
 
 Partridge and pheasant, in plumage gar, 
 
 Stared saucily out from their fine glass cases ; 
 
 While ferret and badger, over the way, 
 Were making uncommonly ugly faces. 
 
 JN'ow horses and dogs may be all very well, 
 And coursing and fishing uncommonly nice is, 
 
 And shooting and chasing are aught but disgracing, 
 And vigorous health often bought at the price is ; 
 
 But Sir Gourmond Grub, as round as a tub, 
 Had forgotten all else for his dog and his gun, 
 
 As we've said, without wife he had journeyed through 
 life. 
 As many a blockhead before him had done. 
 
 At three-score-and-two he pulled up to take breath, 
 With the gout in his foot and a cold in his chest; 
 
 It struck him his friends would he in at the death, 
 If he did not take cai-e, and the Leech do his best. 
 
 Plaintive whine and sorrowing wail. 
 Boisterous shout and blustering roar. 
 
 On the fitful wintry gale 
 
 Poilowed, followed evermore. 
 
 Fell the pitying flakes of snow 
 
 Through the dark and starless night, 
 
 On the shivering earth below, 
 Kobiug her in angel- white.
 
 THE ELOPEilENT. 
 
 But Sir Grourmond Grub, less round than a tub, 
 Restlessly rolled on his soft down bed, 
 
 And called on the nurse, as his pangs grew worse. 
 For something to cool his fevered head. 
 
 "O 
 
 The nurse reclined in her easy chair, 
 
 And snored response to her patient's cry ; 
 
 The louder he called, the stronger he bawled, 
 The sterner she made her hoarse reply. 
 
 He wished she was nearer, and he had stick, 
 
 But wishing was vain, both were out of his reach ; 
 
 He let drop a word must not be transferred ; 
 We decline all such powerful parts of speech. 
 
 He wished he had taken, for better or worse, 
 
 In years long, long vanished, some feminine friend, 
 
 In sickness or health, in need or in wealth. 
 To nourish and cherish, to succour and tend. 
 
 Then he made up his mind, if he e'er got round, 
 To atone for the past in the very best way. 
 
 By choosing some damsel, not too old, a m'am'selle, 
 And wedding her off, without any delay. 
 
 Oh sweetly, sweetly smiles the spring. 
 The primrose blooms by silent ways, 
 The violet flings a loving look 
 Forth from the sly and grassy nook. 
 That sheltered her in wintry days.
 
 6 rrN. 
 
 Like to some darling child we see 
 
 Trom couch of sickness slowly rise, 
 And leaning on its mother's breast, 
 With gaze of saint or angel blest, 
 To heaven upturn its hopeful eyes. 
 
 Oh sweetly, sweetly, smiles the spring, 
 
 God's favoured songster seeks the sky ; 
 The blackbird pipes with lusty throat, 
 And drowsy murmurs softly float 
 On wanton winds that idle by. 
 
 Oh sweetly, sweetly, smiles the spring, 
 And smiles Sir Gourmond Grub as well 
 
 To health restored, he heads the board. 
 As clattering glasses loudly tell. 
 
 " Charge each man to his goblet's brim, 
 A health, good sirs, a health I give — 
 
 My heart's best pride, my future bride, 
 Long may the lovely Fanny live." 
 
 Now up in one corner a young man is sitting, 
 His teeth closely clenching, his brow fiercely knitting ; 
 At mention of Tanny he grows all a-flutter, 
 His cheeks they turn livid, his lips something mutter ; 
 He scowls on Sir Gourmond, then quitting the table, 
 Commands that the groom bring his horse from the 
 stable.
 
 THE ELOPEMEKT. 7 
 
 The vassal obeying, he's iustantly mounted, 
 
 Plies his spurs and his whip, and ere two can be 
 
 counted, 
 la oft' like the wind, while the groom, who's a coarse 
 
 man, 
 Remarks, " Not a Joey ! bad luck to that horseman." 
 
 Within a mile of Gourmond Hall 
 A widowed dame had long resided, 
 
 Her income, though 'twas rather small, 
 For all necessities provided. 
 
 She was not young, she was not old, 
 "Was fat, and fair, and nearly fifty. 
 
 At times inclined to play the scold, 
 
 And always proud, though always thrifty. 
 
 She had been wealthy, but her knight, 
 
 A gaming, hazard-loving sinner, 
 Had staked her fortune left and right. 
 
 Until they'd scarce a steak for dinner. 
 
 And when they'd reached this sorry pass, 
 His better spirits took to sinking. 
 
 Lower, still lower, went his glass. 
 
 Till, Death's cup pledged,he ceased his drinkiug. 
 
 His relict kept an orphan niece, 
 
 A most enchanting little missie, 
 "With eyes so blue, they broke your peace, 
 
 And lips, oh, so outrageous kissie.
 
 FUN. 
 
 With oval face and teeth of pearl, 
 
 Cheeks far less red than cherry brandy, 
 
 A heart of joy a head of curl, 
 And looks as sweet as sugar-candy. 
 
 Admirers rich, from east and v/est, 
 
 The charming Fanny would importune ; 
 
 But ah ! how few could stand the test, 
 " My niece's face is all her fortune." 
 
 Yet there was one who loved her much. 
 Though he had not the heart to speak it- 
 
 Who found a heaven in her touch. 
 And often would devoutly seek it. 
 
 Yes, Gilbert Gifford was his name, 
 
 A nice young man and rather smart, he 
 
 "Was the young wight who, all a-flame, 
 
 Fled from Sir Gourmond's boisterous party. 
 
 And when he'd reached the widow's door 
 He hurried in. Miss Fanny seeking, 
 
 Just dropp'd one knee upon the floor. 
 
 And then commenced in this- wise speaking : 
 
 " Oh, Fanny, Fanny, look at me, 
 
 And tell me, is it true. 
 That old Sir Gourmond Grub has been 
 
 Accepted — and — by you ?
 
 THE ELOPEMEXT. « 
 
 " Tell me 'tis false, you're not engaged, 
 And quell this doubt and anguish ; 
 
 Tell me 'tis true, and I will fly, 
 On foreign shores to languish." 
 
 Now Fanny did not faint away, 
 
 As is the usual fashion 
 On such occasions, but exclaimed, 
 
 " Dear sir, restrain your passion ; 
 
 " Get up, I pray, and take a seat." 
 
 " iSTow, Fanny, how unfeeling, 
 I'll swear—" " Oh no ! Fm shocked, I'll go, 
 
 If you continue kneeling." 
 
 Thus Gilbert was constrained to rise, 
 And tears were in his manly eyes. 
 
 His breast was like a billow ; 
 Upon the couch where Fanny sat 
 He (scarce aware what he was at) 
 
 Sank, and embraced the pillow. 
 
 By and by he grew cooler, and Fanny confessed 
 Sir Gourmond had called rather often of late ; 
 
 More than once stayed to dine, drunk a bottle of wine. 
 And talked of his houses, his lands, and his plate. 
 
 That he'd caUed her a pippin, had patted her cheek ; 
 
 Had conferred all alone with her aunt, and that she 
 Had observed, " She'd ne'er met any gentleman yet 
 
 Whom she'd found so agreeable a person as he."
 
 10 ruN. 
 
 That she'd more than once asked her, Miss Fanny, to 
 say, 
 Did she not think Sir Gourmond would be a good 
 match 
 For some one to whom fate had denied an estate ? 
 That her answer had been, " Dearest aunt, a great 
 catch." 
 
 " It's clear to me," young Gilbert cried, 
 
 " There's treason going on ; 
 Sir Gourmond toasts his future bride, 
 
 And you're the very one. 
 
 " Oh, Fanny, Fanny, you've been sold 
 
 By your most wicked aunt; 
 But you're beyond the price of gold, 
 
 And have you Gourmond shan't. 
 
 " I've loved you, Fanny, day and night, 
 
 And always, always mean ; 
 Oh let us now secure a flight, 
 
 A flight to Gretna Green." 
 
 Ah ! many a verse 'twould take to show 
 
 How Fanny fumed and fluttered 
 At this proposal ; many more 
 To tell how Gilbert did implore. 
 And what fond vows he uttered.
 
 THE ELOPEMEI^T. 11 
 
 How gradually Tanny saw 
 
 The dangers gathering round her ; 
 
 And how at length she gave consent 
 
 To run away, and circumvent 
 
 Her plotting aunt, confound her ! 
 
 'Twas half-past ten o'clock at night, 
 
 Ding, dong, dell ; 
 
 'Twas half-past ten o'clock at night, 
 
 The sky was clear, and the moon's soft light 
 
 Fell on a most suspicious wight, 
 
 Ding, dong, dell. 
 
 A Spanish cloak was round him flung, 
 
 Ding, dong, dell ; 
 A Spanish cloak was round him flung, 
 A broad-brim o'er his features hung. 
 As he beneath a window sprung. 
 
 Ding, dong, dell. 
 
 The leader of a robber band ? 
 
 Ding, dong, dell ; 
 The leader of a robber band ? 
 He clasps some weapon in his hand, 
 And resolutely takes his stand, 
 
 Ding, dong, dell.
 
 12 FUN. 
 
 He at the casement flings a stone, 
 
 Ding, dong, dell ; 
 
 He at the casement flings a stone, 
 
 Then whistles in an uuder-tone 
 
 The air, " I'm waiting here alone," 
 
 Ding, dong, dell. 
 
 The chimes have scarcely ceased to play. 
 
 Ding, dong, dell; 
 
 The chimes have scarcely ceased to play, 
 
 When to the balcony, hey-day, 
 
 A female figure makes its way. 
 
 Ding, dong, dell. 
 
 A strong rope-ladder's quickly found, 
 
 Ding, dong, dell ; 
 A strong rope-ladder's quickly found. 
 And ere you've time to turn you round 
 The female figure treads the ground, 
 
 Ding, dong, dell. 
 
 With arms outspread, the cavalier 
 Whispers, " Oh, speed thee, Fanny dear, 
 
 My agonies you're mocking." 
 The fair one draws aback ; his breast 
 Throbs wildly as he's thus addressed: — 
 
 " Tour conduct, sir, is shocking. 
 
 Now just as Gilbert Grifi'ord deemed 
 His fortune's brightest star had beamed, 
 
 'Twas cruel, Fate, to spoil it.
 
 THE ELOPEMENT. 13 
 
 But Fanny's a^nt liad overheard 
 Their plotted flight, ay, every word, 
 
 And taken steps to foil it. 
 
 The Spanish cloak from Gilbert fell ; 
 Down dropt his broad-brimmed hat as well ; 
 His poor disguises flung aside, 
 His bosom thrills with manly pride. 
 Beneath the moon's unchequered rays 
 The matron meets his earnest gaze. 
 
 " Nay, madam, I am not ashamed — 
 You, you alone are to be blamed, 
 
 With flesh and blood you've traded 
 You've bartered the security 
 Of innocence and purity, 
 
 And happiness invaded. 
 
 That sweet and gentle little dove — 
 Your niece — the maiden whom I love, 
 
 You've sold for wealth and title. 
 Sir Gourmoud Grub — I know him well — 
 Hath bought the prize ; but mark, his knell 
 
 Shall be a sure requital. 
 
 " Good gracious, man !" the widow cries, 
 " You're mad !" " Nay, madam," he replies, 
 
 " No longer will I tarry ; 
 I'll seek the monster in his lair." 
 " Stay, Gilbert, you are wrong, I swear — 
 
 It's me he's going to marry."
 
 14 FUN. 
 
 A light on Gilbert dawns, lie now 
 Eemembers, as be rubs bis brow, 
 
 That Fanny's aunt's a Fanny. 
 The angry hlush deserts his cheek, 
 He tries, but not a word can speak — 
 
 Oh what an altered man he ! 
 
 Now, at theatres, such a denouement as this 
 
 Mostly brings down applause and the curtain ; 
 "While the audience in boxes, iu stalls, and in pit, 
 For at least fifteen minutes are fated to sit, 
 Persecuted to death by the gallery wit — 
 Oft of point the most vague and uncertain. 
 
 We heed not such precedents, modern or old. 
 
 And therefore continue narration ; 
 And reader will be much delighted to hear. 
 That Fanny, Aunt Fanny, now things were made 
 
 clear, 
 Accepted an arm of the young cavalier, 
 
 And returned to her own habitation. 
 
 That the prisoner niece when released from her room, 
 And relieved from her fears on an uncertain doom. 
 
 Was so joyed at the sight of her lover, 
 That she suifered herself to be clasped to his breast, 
 His lips on her plump dimpled cheek to be prest, 
 
 Tbat she swooned, and took long to recover.
 
 THE ELOPEMENT. 15 
 
 M0EA.L. 
 
 Now young men give heed to my moral I pray, 
 And if a fair damsel should fall in your way, 
 And raise in your bosom a genuine flame, 
 Don't (like Gilbert) be slow to acknowledge the same. 
 And when you're asked out with your elders to dine, 
 And toasts follow dinner, with excellent wine, 
 Should some worthy propose Fanny, Jane, or Ophelia, 
 Maud, Marian, Annie, Frances, or Cordelia, 
 Dropping pat on the name of the maid you admire. 
 Don't grow jealous, but quietly stifle your ire, 
 Until if they're one and the same you inquire. 
 And again, if you think of eloping by night — 
 Though I here must observe that such things are not 
 
 right — 
 Be careful that no one your plotting discovers. 
 For guardians and aunts oft are hard upon lovers. 
 And last, though not least, when you've gallantly 
 
 handed 
 The Fair down the ladder, and safely she's landed, 
 Don't make sure you've your prize till you look in 
 
 her face, 
 Lest a substitute should have slipped into her place.
 
 16 FUN. 
 
 A KISS IN THE DAEK. 
 
 When very young, I loved a lass, 
 
 "With eyes like violets, bright and bluey ; 
 
 With hair like some Circassian fair, 
 Lips like a rose, rare, red, and dewy. 
 
 A waist — I never knew its peer, 
 
 It was so tapering and slender j 
 A hand like wax, a model foot, 
 
 Unlike her heart, 'twas very tender. 
 
 Long, long I worshipped from afar, 
 
 Bi'eathed loveful sighs, threw sheepish glance? 
 Sent Yalentines, and signed my name, 
 
 Made many other bold advances. 
 
 All was of no avail, she laughed. 
 And said, " I really was so funny ;" 
 
 And once was rude enough to tell 
 
 Me " not to waste my pocket-money." 
 
 One night I met her at a rout, 
 
 She seemed more beautiful than ever ; 
 
 She let me hand her to a seat ; 
 I felt now was the time, or never.
 
 A KISS IN THE DAEK. 17 
 
 I flattered, joked, told anecdotes, 
 
 She smiled approval, times and often ; 
 
 " At length," I chuckled to myself, 
 "Her nature lias begun to soften." 
 
 Just at that instant — bob — the gas 
 
 Became an optical delusion ; 
 Thought I, what bliss, to steal a kiss, 
 
 Amid the darkness and confusion. 
 
 Forward I leaned, and seized the prize, 
 "When, to my utter consternation, 
 
 A something like the hand of wax, 
 Taught my left ear a new sensation. 
 
 In came the tapers — oh ! ye gods ! — 
 
 My fair had moved, nor had I missed her 
 
 Worse — in the darkness I'd embraced 
 Her aunt — her mother's maiden sister !
 
 18 FUN. 
 
 THE AMBASSADOE'S DEEAM. 
 
 The American Minister gives us a lesson. He instructs 
 the British people in drawing certain distinctions. He shows 
 us whei'e manly and gentlemanly conduct ought to stop. Since 
 the days when the common ancestors of Britons and Americans 
 dwelt in the German forests, it has been characteristic of 
 the Anglo-Saxon race to exhibit a chivalrous respect for woman. 
 ********** 
 
 Miss S. P. Eemond, a free-born citizen of the United States, 
 beai'ing a passport from the Home OiSce &i the EepubUc, ap- 
 phed to the Minister for a visa. The representative of freedom 
 and advancement refused. The lady was coloured, and it was 
 "manifestly an impossibility" that a coloured person should 
 possess United States' citizenship. We do not forget that a 
 defence may be put in on the score of written law, official in- 
 structions, and so forth. But we scorn any such plea. There 
 are services which no stringency of orders can exculpate a man 
 for performing." — Weekly Newspaper, January \^th, 1860. 
 
 The envoy of freedom in easy chair 
 
 Was lounging one day, when a "lady fair" — 
 
 Eair, though her skin was somewhat dark — 
 
 Comes with a gentle tap at the door, 
 Eequests this transatlantic spark 
 
 To grant her a pass for another shore. 
 
 Intelligence spans her tawny brow, 
 
 And gleams from her deep dark orbs of sight, 
 
 A sweet smile trips around her lips, 
 Her words are gentle, her step is light.
 
 THE AMBASSADOe's DUE AM. 19 
 
 The envoy of freedom, with suave rebuff, 
 Declares she's not made of the right sort of stutf ; 
 The colouring matter that tans her skin 
 Is of higher account than the soul within : 
 He can't give a passport to niggers, not he, 
 It woTild blast his fame in tlie land of the tree ! 
 
 Oh, land of the free ! blush, blush at the sound 
 Of that heaven-born word, while such tyrants are found, 
 Found on thy shores, aye, a myriad band. 
 With fetter, and faggot, and whip-thong in hand. 
 
 With a pang in her heart and a blush to her brow, 
 The fair one turned from the free-man's door, 
 
 It closed with a bang, and he cried, " Go hang, 
 These dirty-faced dames are an awful bore." 
 
 He took up a weed, and he blew a cloud. 
 
 Till the world around seemed a world of smoke ; 
 
 He crowed and he laughed, and he thought aloud, 
 "That yaller gal's cheek was a first-rate joke." 
 
 He drew and he pufi'ed, and he puffed and drew, 
 
 Till lost in a haze of "ole Virgini," 
 Slick, plump at his side, a shock to his pride. 
 
 What, what should he see but a pickaninny ! 
 
 He aimed a blow with a close-clenched fist. 
 
 But the little man ducked, and his mark he missed ; 
 
 So he fell on the floor, as you'd suppose. 
 
 And very much damaged his envoy -nose.
 
 20 ruw. 
 
 His eye was darkened, his cheek was bruised, 
 His limbs seemed fastened where he lay 
 
 When the little black puck. 
 
 Made a bound like a buck, 
 
 And mutt' ring a charm. 
 
 Caught him under his arm. 
 Spread bat-like wings and flew away. 
 
 A stupor stole upon him as they journied through the 
 
 air, 
 And when his consciousness returned, he was he 
 
 knew not where. 
 
 All things were changed and re-arranged, 
 
 The blacks had masters grown ; 
 Tlie whites were slaves, and he was one ; 
 
 He gave a piteous moan. 
 
 " Up ! up and work," the driver cried, 
 
 " Tou skulking pale-face, see 
 The cane wants hoeing ; to your task. 
 
 No idle bread for ye." 
 
 Down came the lash with sullen smack 
 Upon his unprotected back. 
 And as the swift convulsing pang 
 
 AVent quivering down each tender nerve, 
 The air with " Mercy ! mercy !" rang. 
 
 " Yes, mercy such as you deserve —
 
 THE ambassador's DEBAM. 21 
 
 " You'll get none other, mark ye that," 
 
 The stern and sturdy driver cried; 
 " For wrong and cruelty and hate, 
 
 Were lessons you alone supplied. 
 
 " You dared us learn to read, and then 
 Rebuked our ignorance in scorn ; 
 
 Our children used, our wives abused, 
 Until we cursed our natal morn, 
 
 Or panted for the present hour, 
 
 Wlien we should grasp the reins of power. 
 
 " See, yonder at the auction stands. 
 
 Your wife, ^our child, they're up for sale ; 
 
 Mark how they fare from buyers' hands. 
 Now listen to their plaintive wail. 
 
 " Eare music that, if white man's breast 
 Burned equal love with darker skin ; 
 
 But no ! this truth you've long imprest. 
 That white without means black within. 
 
 " Nay, would you fly towards your own, 
 Your flesh and blood, your babe and wife ! 
 
 A single step, you sure atone 
 
 The traitor act with life — your life.
 
 22 FUN. 
 
 " Eun from your bondage if you dare, 
 I'll set the bloodhound on your track, 
 
 Hunt, hunt you to your secret lair, 
 And whip you every furlong back." 
 
 An uneasy turn in his easy-chair 
 
 The envoy gave, ope'd his eyes with a stare ; 
 
 He looked at the floor and looked in the air, 
 
 For although it was day he had had the nightmare. 
 
 He quivered and shook like an aspen leaf 
 Clutched by the fierce autumnal blast ; 
 
 He shivered and trembled like a thief, 
 Hearing his final sentence passed. 
 
 Slavery never before had seemed 
 
 The hideous thing he thought it then ; 
 
 But mark — he never before had dreamed, 
 Whites could be slaves, and Blacks be men.
 
 THE EEJECTED BABBEB. 23 
 
 THE EEJECTED BAEBEE. 
 
 Will "Windsoe was a Barber bold, 
 
 He lived iu Camden Town ; 
 His shaving shop bad made a stop 
 
 Eigbt opposite the Crown. 
 
 But tbougb so near a public-house, 
 
 He lived without its pale ; 
 Eor be had signed the Temp'rance pledge 
 
 Against Eum, Beer, and Ale. 
 
 He drove a very steady trade, 
 
 As you may well suppose ; 
 And, tbougb a dwarf, he'd boldly take 
 
 The biggest by the nose. 
 
 He kept three cats — and fed them too, 
 
 He was no cruel soul ; 
 Yet every day he took a pride 
 
 In hanging up a Pole. 
 
 And though an abolitionist, 
 
 He never felt a shock, 
 When some unfortunate's false front 
 
 Was ordered to the block.
 
 24 FUK. 
 
 Eepublican in politics, 
 
 He dubbed all placemen " prigs ;" 
 But still be ever seemed to have 
 
 A leaning to tbe Wigs. 
 
 So tbings went very smootbly on, 
 
 Until one luckless day, 
 It cbanced a dasbing barmaid came 
 
 To live across tbe way. 
 
 Her eye was black, her lip was red, 
 Her teeth were white as pearl ; 
 
 Her weight was almost sixteen stone, 
 Sbe was a bouncing girl. 
 
 I said her eye — sbe bad but one 
 Wherewith to gaze about ; 
 
 For when a child a snuffer's point 
 Had put tbe other out. 
 
 But in the optic that remained, 
 Though, reader, you may start, 
 
 She'd power to concentrate a glance 
 Would pierce the hardest heart. 
 
 Will Windsor, standing at bis door. 
 Beheld the cab drawn down, 
 
 Which bore this queenly maiden to 
 Her fit abode — the Crown.
 
 THE EEJECTED BAEBEE. 25 
 
 And as she left the vehicle, 
 She threw her eye around ; 
 
 It fell on Will, all to inflict 
 A deep and cureless wound. 
 
 His face with blushes was suffused, 
 His heart did double work, 
 
 And fluttered like a butterfly 
 Just pinned upon a cork. 
 
 And when she long had disappeared 
 He still felt far from right, 
 
 And cut his best of customers 
 Most cruelly that night. 
 
 He planed the Cab'net-maker's cheek. 
 
 And trod upon his toes ; 
 He gashed the Butcher's double chin ; 
 
 He snipped the Tailor's nose. 
 
 He shaved the Furrier too close, 
 
 And cut his hair awry ; 
 And bobbed his heated curling-tongs 
 
 Into the Hatter's eye. 
 
 "Alas! alas! what shall I do?" 
 When left alone, he cried ; 
 
 " To own myself a water man 
 May bar me from a bride.
 
 2G lUN. 
 
 " How can I get to speak to her 
 Abovit love's magic thrill ?" 
 
 Then came the thought, " Teetot'lers may 
 Take cord'al drinks, when ill." 
 
 This thought revolving in his mind, 
 With sickness he grew rife ; 
 
 Until he felt that brandy hot 
 Alone would save his life. 
 
 He hurried over to the Crown, 
 
 He tarried very long ; 
 Alas ! his flesh was weak, or else 
 
 Their brandy precious strong. 
 
 For when again he sought his home, 
 And tried to cross the road. 
 
 Six sev'ral times into the mud 
 His legs discharged their load. 
 
 Next mom he was so very bad, 
 He scarce knew how to move ; 
 
 Yet would he struggle over to 
 The object of his love. 
 
 Yes, there was danger in delays ; 
 
 His feelings he'd impart ; 
 "Would seek the " Jug Department," and 
 
 Pour out his aching heart.
 
 THE EEJECTED EAEBEB. 2/ 
 
 He acted on this bold resolve ; 
 
 The maiden Cyclops smiled, 
 And said that she " was used to chaff," 
 
 So begged he'd " draw it mild." 
 
 " I do not mock — I do not chaff," 
 He gasped. " To prove it's true, 
 
 Last night I broke my * Temp'rance Pledge ' 
 To gain a look at you." 
 
 " Then, sir, than wed a man like that, 
 
 I'd lead a single life ; 
 For he who could not keep a pledge 
 
 I'm sure can't keep a wife." 
 
 Will bowed his head — in silence turned 
 
 Once more towards the street ; 
 And Sam, the pot-boy, from behind, 
 
 Assisted his retreat. 
 
 There's little more to tell : henceforth 
 
 The bottle was his spouse ; 
 He perished in the honeymoon, 
 
 From an undue carouse.
 
 28 ruN. 
 
 THE FOETTJNE-TELLEE. 
 
 All bowed of back, and lauk of limb, 
 
 And frigid of feature the old hag lay, 
 Huddled and heaped in the wild wierd night, 
 O'er a faggot fire, whose flickering light 
 
 Threw shadows grotesque on the panels gray. 
 
 Two crazy chairs togetlier stood, 
 
 Companions lone on the blank bare floor ; 
 
 A grinning skull to the ceiling strung, 
 
 Slantingly over a table hung. 
 
 Where sprawled the charts of her mystic lore. 
 
 And from its eyeless sockets there streamed 
 
 Dull lurid rays that deftly fell 
 On the cabalistic signs and marks — 
 Those lines and circles, angles and arcs, 
 
 Whose import only herself could tell. 
 
 The chimes came laughing down the wind. 
 
 Merry as boys when their tasks are done ; 
 They ceased, and she told her fingers o'er, 
 As the Minster bell gave half a score, 
 Gave half a score deep moans and one. 
 
 Profoundest silence filled the night 
 
 As the last boom slowly stole away ; 
 The tempest paused and held its breath, 
 As clutched by fear, or smote by death, 
 The streets in sudden dumbness lay.
 
 THE FOET^^'E-TELLER. 29 
 
 But hist ! a hasty footstep now 
 Along the pebbly path repairs, 
 
 Pauses beside the entry wide, 
 
 Then falters up the creaking stairs. 
 
 Tap, tap, tap, tap. " Come in, come in !" 
 
 The door flies oj)en, and there stands 
 Before the old and withered crone, 
 
 A death-pale girl, whose outstretched hands, 
 Beseeching eye, and woeful face, 
 
 Tell of a mind distraught with grief, 
 And plead, with eloquence sublime, 
 
 For counsel, succour, and relief. 
 
 The beldame slowly bends her gaze 
 
 Upon the trembling girl, and cries 
 In croaking tones, " AVhat would you, child. 
 
 With me so late ?" and she replies, 
 " Take, take this purse, and tell me true. 
 
 If he who, but an hour ago, 
 Beside me sat, now charged with crime. 
 
 Is guilty of the fatal blow ?" 
 
 She turns aside, her tears gush forth. 
 
 Her soul with agony is wrung, 
 Ajad 'tween each sob, " Oh, Leonard, dear ! 
 
 Dear Leonard !" trembles from her tongue.
 
 30 TVS. 
 
 The sybil seeks lier mystic leaves, 
 
 Sinks slowly in her crazy chair, 
 Mutters some incoherent lines. 
 
 Turns o'er a page with solemn air ; 
 Draws forth three cards reversed, and bids 
 
 The weeping maiden choose her one. 
 The girl obeys. " Upon the book 
 
 Of FATE now place it — so," — tis done. 
 
 The fortune-teller turns the card, 
 
 Black-spotted o'er, and "guilty" cries 
 
 A wild shriek quivers her despair. 
 And from the house the maiden flies. 
 
 "Ha! ha! already gone: well! well! 
 
 Her gold is cheering to the sight, 
 And hath such music in its ring, 
 
 And glows and gleams so rich and bright. 
 Ha ! ha ! how credulous the world. 
 
 Thus to be duped by such as me ; 
 Blind, blind as they themselves in all 
 
 Relating to futurity. 
 
 " Still, this desire to probe the dark 
 
 And solemn vistas of to come 
 Seems felt alike by rich and poor, 
 And nightly brings them to my door, 
 Prom many a distant home.
 
 THE rOETUXE-TELLEE. 31 
 
 » 
 
 " The carriage-borne, with velvet palm, 
 
 And taper fingers, jewel-lit; 
 The laboiirer with his corned hand, 
 The bravest of the warrior band, 
 
 The proud plethoric cit ; 
 
 " The dashing dame in silks and lace. 
 
 With youth and beauty all elate ; 
 The scullion and the serving maid, 
 The courtezan, the street- worn jade, 
 
 The sturdy, the efiete. 
 
 " Some have implicit faith, and some 
 Come doubting, yet they're first to pale 
 
 Beneath my dull eyes' misty gaze. 
 
 And are dumbfounded with amaze 
 When listening to my tale. 
 
 " But hist ! another foot I hear, 
 And 'tis a dull and heavy tread," — 
 
 Tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp — " some country 
 churl. 
 Who steps as he were shod with lead." 
 
 Thump, thump, thump, thump. "Come in, 
 come in!" 
 
 Again the door flies open wide, 
 And lo ! a big and burly man 
 
 Stalks in with slow and measured stride.
 
 32 ruN. 
 
 *■ 
 
 A sloucli liat hides liis brow, his face 
 
 A muffling shawl of many a dye; 
 He boldly takes the vacant seat, 
 And to the beldame draws anigh. 
 
 •■o' 
 
 " Thou'rt brave, my son, and yet, methinks, 
 I've power to blanch thy cheek with fear ; 
 The PAST and putuee I command, 
 Both are subservient to my wand — 
 What is it thou would' st hear?" 
 
 " Thou art a novice in thy craft. 
 
 Old woman, or thou should'st divine." 
 " The PAST and putuke I command, 
 They are the vassals of my hand ; 
 The PBESENT is not mine." 
 
 " Well said ! well said ! I'll ask thee then, 
 If good or ill success shall light 
 
 Upon the enterprise I've plan'd. 
 And fain would cany out this night ? " 
 
 " I must consult my mystic page — 
 That never errs, 'tis always true." 
 
 Again she seeks her outspread charts, 
 One after one she scans them through. 
 
 " Yes, fortune smiles on you," she cries. 
 Turning to the inquiring wight ; 
 
 " The enterprise which you have planned, 
 Shall verily succeed this night." 
 
 i
 
 THE FOETUNE-TELLEE. 33 
 
 " Thanks, thanks, old woman, for the news ; 
 
 I am more fortunate than she 
 Who sought your aid within this hour, 
 
 And whom you 'whelmned in misery. 
 Who, who believing in the lie 
 
 Tou uttered, sought the river's brink 
 And plunged therein, but whom I saved 
 
 When just upon the point to sink." 
 
 The old hag's face grows ghastly white, 
 
 Her words upon her lips expire. 
 At length she shrieks, " Wbo art thou, man, 
 
 That thus presumes to call me liar ?" 
 " Who am I ? sui'e you ought to know, 
 
 The PAST and futuee you can read ; 
 The enterprise I've planned to-night, 
 
 To-night you've told me shall succeed. 
 
 " I seem not that I am, or else 
 
 Against me you had barred your lair ; 
 
 I am — Detective Green, old girl. 
 And you must go before the Mayor." 
 
 D
 
 31 TV'S. 
 
 THE PHANTOM MILKMAN; OE, THE 
 HAUNTED PUMP. 
 
 Prologue. 
 
 Some don't believe in ghosts. I do ; 
 
 Eor my good grandmamma declares, 
 When Aunt Maria died, she met 
 
 A white cat flying down the stairs. 
 
 And when her uncle's ship was lost, 
 And all his money, goods, and land 
 
 Eell to her share, a red-hot purse 
 
 Jumped from the fire, and scorched her hand. 
 
 That when with measles I fell ill, 
 A winding-sheet was in the taper ; 
 
 She showed ray Pa, who shouted, " Fudge ! 
 I'll stop your superstitious caper." 
 
 And flung the candle in the street, 
 
 By which — she says — the charm was broken ; 
 For I got well within a week, 
 
 And since she's never had a token.
 
 THE PHAXTOM iriLKiIA>-. 35 
 
 JS^ow, putting grandmamma aside, 
 
 To tell a tale I wish, partic'lar ; 
 'Twill make the curliest of hair, 
 
 As Shakspere sajs, stand perpendic'lar. 
 
 Young maiden, if a tear you have 
 
 Put by, prepare to shed it now ; 
 And, matron, draw your 'kerchief forth. 
 
 To cool your fear-perspiring brow. 
 
 And, youth, in Glenfield starch erect, 
 Ease your cravat, nor heed revealings ; 
 
 And, graudsire, get your snuff-box out, 
 For this will surely touch your feelings. 
 
 The Stokt. 
 
 Hard by the Old Kent Eoad there lived, 
 
 Some eighteen months ago, 
 A man who dressed in corded breech, 
 
 And stockings white as snow ; 
 
 In coat of velvet-green, and vest 
 
 Of yellow, blue, and red ; 
 With hob-nailed boots upon his feet, 
 
 A felt hat on his head.
 
 36 ruN. 
 
 He was not short, lie was not tall, 
 Though fat beyond a doubt ; 
 
 And though he earned his bread by milk, 
 Each day he got more stout. 
 
 He said he was a dairyman, 
 
 But still no cows had he ; 
 Save one of chalk, upon a shelf, 
 
 Of great antiquity. 
 
 He to a cow-yard hied each morn, 
 
 Before the break of day, 
 Por fresh supplies — some said he passed 
 
 A pump upon his way. 
 
 And that he stopped as he returned ; 
 
 And vulgar men would chaff, 
 And shout, as he cried " Milk be-low," 
 
 " Let's 'ave some arf-an'-arf." 
 
 But, heedless of their vile attacks. 
 He cheerly took his round ; 
 
 And with his " Milk be-low-wo-woe," 
 The welkin did resound. 
 
 He never flirted with the maids 
 
 Where'er his business led ; 
 For he was of a solemn turn. 
 
 And did not mean to wed.
 
 THE PHANTOM MILKMAN. 37 
 
 But still he gave a civil word 
 
 Where'er he pitched his can ; 
 And all the women-servants said 
 
 He was " a nice young man." 
 
 One morning, as he vrent to serve 
 
 A house in Surrey Square, 
 Some naughty boys had made a slide 
 
 Upon the Terrace there. 
 
 He slipt upon the greasy spot, 
 
 And then, alas ! alack ! 
 He lost his feet, let go his can, 
 
 And fell upon his back. 
 
 A sympathetic housemaid flew, 
 
 And helped him to arise. 
 With sorrow pictured in her face, 
 
 And pity in her eyes. 
 
 She led him to the kitchen fire, 
 
 Some comforts to bestow ; 
 And as she gave him toast and tea, 
 
 Sly Cupid struck a blow. 
 
 For ere he'd had the seventh round, 
 
 Poor Milk be-low began 
 To feel a something at his chest — 
 
 He was an altered man.
 
 38 FUN. 
 
 He twirled his thumbs, he rolled his eyes, 
 
 Upon his feet did start ; 
 And then in broken accents said, 
 
 " 'Ave — you — got — a sweet — 'art ?" 
 
 The maiden blushed, and cried, " Get out." 
 
 Said he, " I'm not in fun ; 
 If you'll 'ave me, why I'll 'ave you. 
 
 And then the matter's done." 
 
 Said she, " What do you earn per week ?" 
 Said he, " A pund — and more." 
 
 Said she, " It ain't enough !"— said he, 
 " What will yer bargain for ?" 
 
 Said she, " When you earns one-pun-ten 
 I may." Said he, " Agreed ! 
 
 I'll do it in a month ; I'll break 
 My neck but I'll succeed." 
 
 Ah, love ! ah woe ! poor Milk be-low, 
 
 That was a fatal boast; 
 Would that you ne'er hud seen that girl. 
 
 Nor ate her buttered toast ! 
 
 Would that you'd never made a slip, 
 
 Unhappiest of men ! 
 Would that you'd shunned that fatal cup ! 
 
 Of tea 'twas two and ten.
 
 THE PHANTOil MILKMAN. 39 
 
 A week passed on, and 'by his smiles 
 
 'Twere easy to perceive, 
 Whatever other people thought, > 
 
 He saw no cause to grieve. 
 
 Each day he tarried at the pump 
 
 Much longer than of yore. 
 Forgetting that while he grew rich, 
 
 His milk was growing poor. 
 
 At last his customers began 
 
 To grumble and complain, 
 And one, a waggish doctor, said, 
 
 " He'd water on his hrain.'' 
 
 >> 
 
 And ere a fortnight had expired 
 
 His milk had grown so thin. 
 That five-and-twenty all at once 
 
 Eefused to take it in. 
 
 But worse than all, his lady-love. 
 Who saw how things would go, 
 
 Informed him she had changed her mind, 
 And got another beau. 
 
 That night — it was a foggy one — 
 
 A man was seen to glide 
 Down the Kent Road, with a clothes-line 
 
 All dangling by his side.
 
 40 TVTS. 
 
 At length he paused before a pump, 
 
 Which rose full ten feet high, 
 He raised the handle and there fell — 
 
 Some water — from his eye- 
 He placed his foot upon the spout, 
 
 His rope slung round the top, 
 Then let his neck into the noose, 
 
 And took his final drop. 
 
 Scarce had the morrow dawned, when one, 
 
 A man infirm and old, 
 Came there to wash some watercress, 
 
 And found him stifi" and cold. 
 
 A jury on his body sat, 
 
 And when they had deplored 
 
 The suicidal deed, they found — 
 " Died of his own a(c)cord." 
 
 One would have thought that of this world 
 
 He'd had enough ; but no, 
 Each midnight by the pump is seen 
 
 The G-host of Milk be-low. 
 
 He fills his can, then softly says, 
 
 *' 'Gad, but it's growin' thin ; 
 I hate adulteration, or 
 
 I'd put some whiting in."
 
 MISSES AXD MUSES. 41 
 
 And when the " early village cock" 
 
 Declares 'tis break of day, 
 He mutters, " Yes — the breakfast milk," 
 
 And vanishes away. 
 
 MISSES AND MUSES. 
 
 Some poets love to woo the muse, 
 
 " All in a roseate bower," 
 Ajid some to lie with folded arms 
 On " mossy bank," and sing her charms 
 
 " All in the twilight hour." 
 
 Now, courting muses may be fine — 
 
 To court a maiden's finer ; 
 I've tried them both, and must declare, 
 Sweet Fanny of the auburn hair, 
 And eyes of blue and cheeks so fair. 
 
 Than any muse diviner. 
 
 And as to catching heavenly sparks, 
 
 And getting inspiration, 
 I wooed a muse for fourteen days. 
 And only had the luck to raise 
 
 One sorry conflagration.
 
 42 ruN, 
 
 My writing-fluid disappeared 
 
 In my heroic measure ; 
 Spenserian stanza did not do, 
 At blank verse I still blanker grew ; 
 Till in an awful rage I flew, 
 
 And burned my " Ode on Pleasure." 
 
 But when Maria crossed my path, 
 
 And I 'gan to importune, 
 Although at first she turned aside 
 And made some little show of pride. 
 Ere noon had wedded eventide, 
 Her face had told my fortune. 
 
 Ah me ! can I forget the thrill 
 
 That through my bosom trembled. 
 When first my arm stole round her waist, 
 Wlien first my longing lips were placed 
 Upon her dimpling cheek so chaste. 
 And neither's heart dissembled. 
 
 Scarce eighteen summers had I seen, 
 
 Scarce seventeen my treasure ; 
 I was not troubled with a beard. 
 No rough moustaches had appeared 
 To interrupt my pleasure.
 
 MISSES AND MUSES. 43 
 
 And side by side, in sweet commune, 
 
 We sate for hours together ; 
 And though the day was aught but fine, 
 And Phcebus cut a sorry shine, 
 Our love sent forth such rays divine, 
 
 We found it charming weather. 
 
 But soon, too soon, my vision wanes. 
 To Cambridge points my compass ; 
 To school again my love must go, 
 And then — unutterable woe— 
 They find a hiUet from her heau, 
 And raise a precious rumpus. 
 
 My hasty sire comes hurrying down, 
 
 At which I'm much astonished ; 
 And, what is anything but well, 
 Finds me absorbed in bagatelle, 
 For which I'm there admonished. 
 
 He chides me for my boyish love. 
 
 In aught but loving spirit ; 
 Bids me forget the foolish past, 
 Stick to my studies hard and fast. 
 Or all my prospects I shall blast. 
 For he could disinherit.
 
 44 FUN. 
 
 Next mom was wafted through the post, 
 
 Lmes from my love so gentle : 
 Her pa had come from town that day, 
 And, as au eagle would its prey. 
 Was wildly bearing her away, 
 To some place continental. 
 
 Enough — the glorious dream had fled, 
 
 Joy's crystal cup was broken ; 
 And oh ! how poignant my despair, 
 My love had gone, I knew not where : 
 Worse, I'd not e'en a lock of hair 
 To cherish as a token. 
 
 " Now what is up ?" my chums did cry ; 
 
 " Your mind hath something on it." 
 They little knew my weight of grief ; 
 I thought of death, but found I'elief, 
 
 In framing me a sonnet. 
 
 Within its limits I portrayed 
 
 My bitter, bitter anguish ; 
 Inveighed against the cruel fate, 
 That tore the ring-d.ove from its mate, 
 
 And left him but to languish. 
 
 For full three weeks I sang my wrongs, 
 
 By sunlight and by taper ; 
 My passion daily I'd rehearse. 
 And paint my woes, in measured verse, 
 
 On best of cream-laid paper.
 
 MISSES A>'D MUSES. 45 
 
 But time my ruffled feelings soothed, 
 
 Of sacred nines I tired ; 
 And tried that other nine, you know, 
 Wliich men place in a triple row, 
 Thereat a wooden ball to throw — 
 
 A game so much admired. 
 
 I never met my dear one more, 
 
 Thanks to her jealous sire ; 
 But next vacation, I declare, 
 I fell in love with one as fair, 
 With eyes as bright, and lips as rare. 
 And quite two inches higher. 
 
 And many a pleasant teie-a-tete 
 "We had, but there it ended ; 
 For twelve months hence a titled wight. 
 Whose head and pocket both were light, 
 Finding her daddy's coffers right. 
 With her in wedlock blended. 
 
 When first the news fell on mine ear, 
 
 An ode I contemplated ; 
 But reason whispered, " Cease your rhyme, 
 'Twere folly thus to waste your time ; 
 Seek some new charmer more sublime — 
 
 Again be captivated."
 
 46 FUN. 
 
 1 listened to tlie sage advice, 
 
 AVeut forth and found a new love- 
 Sweet Fanny of the auburn hair. 
 So, good-bye, muses, for I swear. 
 As I'm of age, by all that's fair, 
 I'll wed my last and true love.
 
 HOW DATflEL o'ROUBKE WOK MISS o'gRABT. 17 
 
 HOW DANIEL O'HOUEKE WON MISS 
 NELLY O'GEADY. 
 
 MiSTHEE Dakiel O'Eoukke was a brath of a bhoy ; 
 
 He'd a hid full o' nonsense, a heart full o' luv ; 
 He'd a rid turn-up nose, and a cast in his eye ; 
 
 He could roore like a lion, or coo like a duv. 
 
 His position was aisy ; that is, I should say, 
 When the rint was demanded, he always could pay. 
 
 He'd a horse and a plough, 
 
 And a pig and a cow, 
 And a sprig of shillelah, which, all would allow, 
 Had done brave execution in many a row. 
 
 Misther E-ourke luv'd a lady, 
 Misthress Nelly O' Grady ; 
 Oh, the charming young craiture, 
 He worshipped aich faiture 
 A thousand times more — 
 At laist, so he swore — 
 Every day of his hfe. 
 Could he make her his wife. 
 He declared he should be. 
 With young Dan on his knee. 
 The happiest object in naiture.
 
 48 FUN. 
 
 But some how or t'other, 
 This son of a mother, 
 Though he sthrove night and day, 
 And did flatther and pray, 
 Could never get nearer than Jrind — what a bother. 
 
 IMisthress Nelly's fair chaika round as dumplin's 
 
 stood ; 
 Her mouth, though 'twas large, showed her ivory good — 
 Besides, mouths are made for disposing of food. 
 
 Her cherry-rid nose far encroached o'er her face, 
 And though turned up like Dan's, it was done with 
 
 such grace. 
 That no one could wish its swait form to displace. 
 
 Her eyes were a gray-bluish-yellowish tint, 
 
 And improved, as Dan said, by their thriffling squint ; 
 
 "While the crop on her hid, 
 
 Though a terrible rid, 
 Most gracefully twisthed and twirled as it wint. 
 
 No wonder with charms such as these, Misthress 
 
 Grady 
 Consithered herself no contemptible lady. 
 
 And had swaithearts galore, 
 
 Ay, two dozen or more.
 
 now DANIEL o'aoLraiiE WON MISS o'oiiADr. 49 
 
 But at length growing tired 
 
 Of being admired, 
 She gave all the cowld cut, save McGrath and 
 
 McGrarry ; 
 But declared that she didn't know which one to marry, 
 They both were " sich dear, darlint, iligant bhoys." 
 But as she was " avarse to all bother and noise," 
 
 They should daicently mait 
 
 In some quiet retrate, 
 With their sticks to decide tlie affair the next Monday ; 
 
 That her darlint friend Dan, 
 
 Should see fair for aich man, 
 And the victor she'd marry a month from next Sunday. 
 
 McGrath and McGrarry declaired they would do it. 
 And aich swore he'd mince up the other like suet ; 
 
 Then quaf&ug a noggin, 
 
 They said they'd be jogging, 
 Aich one took a kiss, and aich one said "good-night." 
 " Remember," cried Dau, " that next Monday ye mate 
 By the ould fairy owk, it's a daicent retrate, 
 And ind all disputes in a thundherin' fight." 
 
 'Tis Monday, and twelve by the clock ; they have mit 
 'Xaith the ould fairy owk, and at it they sit. 
 
 Their sticks fly up, their sticks come down, 
 And soon one cracks the other's crown, 
 But they don't seem to mind it. 
 
 E
 
 50 FTJN. 
 
 Grath gets a thump upon the nose, 
 And then the crimson fluid flows, 
 And Garry's eye gets blindit. 
 
 " BraA^o," cries Dan, " good, good aich man, 
 
 That's beautiful, my honey." 
 And then, aside, " Not ayther's bride 
 
 She'll be, I'll bet my money ; 
 I'll tape these jewils at their work, 
 
 Until they are so baiten, 
 That nayther, for the next six walks, 
 
 Miss Nelly will be maiten." 
 
 And so they fight, like divils they, 
 E'en Dan ne'er saw so dire a fray, 
 
 Nor any mother's son now. 
 At lasht too walk to dail a blow, 
 Down on the velvet sward they go, 
 
 But nayther cries I'm done now. 
 
 Dan takes up one upon his back, 
 And bears him home, ay, in a crack, 
 
 Careful as any brother. 
 A dhrop of whiskey, and away, 
 Once more he saiks the faild of fray. 
 
 And carries off" the other.
 
 HOW DANIEL o'eOTJEKE WON MISS O'aEADT. 51 
 
 A montli has passed, and darlint Nell, 
 
 Her weddin' garments wearing, 
 Hies to the chapel porch to wait 
 
 Her victor knight's appearing. 
 
 'Tis pasht the hour appinted, sure, 
 
 But nayther G-rath nor Grarry 
 Are there to claim the lady's hand 
 
 They'd both engaged to marry. 
 
 Another twinty minutes gone. 
 
 Her eye with rage is burning, 
 When Dan O'Eourke, all in his best. 
 
 The chapel yard is turning. 
 
 She runs to mait him : " Misther Eourke," 
 She cries, " and who's the winner ?" 
 
 Dan smirks and smiles, and then replies, 
 " As thrue as I'm a sinner — 
 
 " Myself! for sure McGrath is did. 
 
 Ay, did as any herrin', 
 And I've jist been to siud the man, 
 
 To see to Garry's berrin'." 
 
 "The dirty spalpains," Nelly cries, 
 
 "And I've spint all my money. 
 In buyin' these fine widdin' clothes." 
 
 " Och ! nevir mind, my honey, —
 
 52 FUN. 
 
 " Their likes shan't make a fool of you, 
 And your poor heart be blitin' ; 
 
 Come, let the praist your darlint hand, 
 With this un be unitin'. 
 
 " I've slyly had the bands announced, 
 
 So make me blist for ever ; 
 Say no ! I'll go and hang myself. 
 
 And jump into the river." 
 
 " Och, sure, you've got a graisy tongue, 
 You're always mighty civil ; 
 
 And as I won't be made a fool, 
 There, Dan, I'm yours, ye divil."
 
 THE misee's deeam. 53 
 
 THE MISER'S DEEAM. 
 
 In an alley that slunk like a guilty thing, 
 All black and besmeared, from the broad highway, 
 
 Stood an ancient house whose o'erhangiug roof 
 Looked down at its basement and shut out the day. 
 
 Its wide wooden front was bescarr'd and beseamed, 
 And its window frames shattered and crumbling fast ; 
 
 But its shutters and bars, and stout oaken doors, 
 Stood proudly defiant of rain, hail, and blast. 
 
 All, all alone in this dreary abode, 
 
 Lived one Timothy Nip, a wretch who had sold, 
 His health and his strength, his youth and his prime, 
 
 To the god of the heartless — Gold, treacherous 
 Gold. 
 
 Month after month, ay, and year after year. 
 He had scraped and saved with a growing zest ; 
 
 And now he could see, as full as might be, 
 His bank of deposit, his old oak chest.
 
 54 ruN. 
 
 " Full to the lid ! full to the lid !" 
 
 He cried, as he rubbed his shrivelled thighs ; 
 " PuU to the lid ! fuU to the lid !" 
 
 He murmured, aud glanced his sunken eyes 
 Around the room, as if in fear 
 Of some intruder being near. 
 
 He closed it up with a cautious air, 
 And softly pressed the yielding hasp, 
 
 And strove to deafen the sharp click-click. 
 As he shot with the key the double clasp. 
 
 " Full to the lid ! full to the lid !" 
 
 And he rubbed his hands with a fiendish glee ; 
 " Full to the lid ! full to the lid ! 
 
 And it all, yes, it all belongs to me ! 
 Some cry ' pity,' and some cry ' poor,' 
 They little dream o' the old man's store." 
 
 Now this Timothy Nip deserved the lash ; 
 For though he possessed such a box of cash, 
 His stomach he wronged in an infamous way, 
 Subsisting on next door to nothing a day. 
 
 He took water for breakfast, and water for tea, 
 "With a mumbled crust or a mangled scrap ; 
 
 And the withered old sinner took ditto for dinner. 
 As reg'lar as infants are given their pap.
 
 THE misek's dream. 55 
 
 One morning in passing a butcher's shop, 
 For a second or two he was tempted to stop, 
 Surveying breast, shoulder, and fillet, and chop. 
 His mouth, how it watered, with ominous rumble, 
 His stomach set up a dissatisfied grumble, 
 And his fingers began in his pockets to fumble. 
 
 The butcher stepped forth, with his " Buj-buy-a-buj, 
 
 What can I do for you, sir, my quality try. 
 
 That head, sir? that's eightpence, you can't say it*.s 
 
 high." 
 The miser bid fourpence, to sixpence then rose, 
 " Sold again," cries the butcher, and chops oif his nose, 
 Cleaves his cranium in twain, and away Timmy goes. 
 
 He bore his sheep's head safely home, 
 
 And brewed him mutton broth, 
 A saucepan lid his platter was, 
 
 He used no tablecloth ; 
 His fingers served him for a fork 
 
 Eight cheerfully, I ween, 
 And blunt clasp-knives cut sharp enough 
 
 When appetites are keen. 
 
 The deed is done, the bones are picked, 
 
 The monster feast is o'er, 
 And soon the drowsy miser seeks 
 
 His bed upon the floor ;
 
 56 vvs. 
 
 He shuts his eyes, but lo ! his meal 
 
 Lies heavy at his cJiest ! 
 And though he quickly falls asleep, 
 
 He's slow at getting rest. 
 
 Dreams, awful dreams his slumbers haunt, 
 
 His brow grows damp with dread, 
 As through the door a doubtful form 
 
 Obtrudes its horned head. 
 He tries to rise, but cannot move. 
 
 And old Scratch forward springs, 
 Switches his arrow-tipped tail, 
 
 And flaps his bat-like wings. 
 
 The miser strives to shriek for help, 
 
 His lips emit no sound, 
 Scratch laughs ovitright at his affright, 
 
 And capers round and round ; 
 Then seizing on his money-box. 
 
 And shooting out the shiners, 
 Grins like a gin-trap when it nips 
 
 Some rogue in its caniners. 
 
 " The labour of your life is here !" 
 
 He cries, " for this you've striven ; 
 Through heat and cold, you've garnered gold, 
 
 And never sous hath given 
 To aid an outcast man or child, 
 
 To lodging or to dinner. 
 ISXy, more, you've starved yourself to save. 
 
 So now you're lost, old sinner.
 
 THE misee's deeam. 57 
 
 " Yet, though your earthly days are told, 
 
 You shan't be "wronged, my honey, 
 For hark, although with us you go. 
 
 We'll let you take your money ; 
 You've robbed your stomach to amass 
 
 These riches, and to follow 
 The law of restitution up, 
 
 Each guinea you must swallow. 
 
 " I see, I see you think you can't, 
 
 I'll help you all I can, Tim, 
 You'll like them better, pr'aps, if warmed 
 
 In your old frying-pan, Tim ; 
 They'll soon be hot enough for you, 
 
 And cooking I admire, 
 As you will find." He filled the pan, 
 
 And clapped it on the fire. 
 
 Then cried, " A blaze we'll quickly raise, 
 
 I'm famous as a stoker," 
 He thrust his tail between the bars. 
 
 And used it as a poker. 
 The miser's lamp of all its oil 
 
 He drained, then flung the wick in. 
 Observing, " Just a little grease, 
 
 'Twill keep the gold from sticking." 
 
 "When it had fizzed and whizzed awhile. 
 
 He cried, " Prepare to swallow, 
 You'd better make a hearty meal. 
 
 There's not a dish to follow.
 
 58 FTJN. 
 
 Act like a man of metal, Tim, 
 
 Bolt them, they'll slip like butter ; 
 
 I swear, until each coin is down, 
 You not a note shall utter ^ 
 
 Again Tim tried to shout and rise, 
 
 And then his dark tormentor, 
 With pan in hand just made a bound, 
 
 Came squat across his centre, 
 Forced wide his jaws, and down his throat 
 
 The burning guineas hurried, 
 Till far 'neath his oesophagus, 
 
 Each coin was safely buried. 
 
 A wild shriek echoed through the house, 
 
 As Nip from slumber waking, 
 Fell on his knees, while every limb 
 
 Seemed as with palsy shaking ; 
 " Thank God, it is not true," he cried, 
 
 " Fve time to quit my vices ; 
 I will not sell my soul for Gold, 
 
 However high the price is. 
 
 " I'll live to taste the many joys 
 
 That heaven, kind heaven hath sent me- 
 Succour the needy, aid the wronged, 
 
 Of all my sins repent me ; 
 I'll love the flowers, the woods, the skies, 
 
 And mountain, mead, and river. 
 And daily bend my knees in thanks 
 
 To the Almighty Giver."
 
 THE miser's deeam. 59 
 
 The miser turned liim to his trunk, 
 
 The lid threw open wide, 
 Then gave a groan and senseless fell 
 
 Head over heels inside ; 
 Some hardened rogues had cracked his crib, 
 
 While he a-slumb'ring lay, 
 And with most unabating zeal, 
 
 Walked all the cash away.
 
 60 FUN. 
 
 I WOULD THAT I WERE YOrNGEE. 
 
 Ah ! Father Time, you're round again, 
 
 And I am fifty-eight to-day, 
 My hair, so long upon the go. 
 
 Has turned at last a thorough gray. 
 My old teeth all have cut and gone, 
 
 My new ones were not made to eat, 
 I tried them only yesterday, 
 
 And two I swallowed with my meat. — 
 I would that I were younger ! 
 
 I grow more wrinkled every hour ; 
 
 My eyes— the bare thought makes me sad— 
 Though turned from worldly vanities, 
 
 Are really getting very bad, 
 I scarce can see a dozen yards, 
 
 Must take to glasses I suppose, 
 No spectacles could I behold, 
 
 Unless a pair were on my nose — 
 
 I would that I were younger ! 
 
 Once I could trip with passing grace 
 
 Upon the light fantastic toe. 
 Oft from the ball-room bore the bell(e) — 
 
 But that's all over now, you know.
 
 I WOULD THAT I WEIIE YOUNGER. 61 
 
 Decline of life increases bulk, 
 
 And corns do not improve jour gait; 
 
 Polkas ar'n't good for eighteen stone, 
 Especially at fifty-eight — 
 
 I would that I were younger ! 
 
 Yet sometimes, in my easy chair, 
 
 To memory's steeds I give the rein, 
 And lo ! they bravely bear me back, 
 
 Through all my pleasant hours again ; 
 Love's earliest ofterings I lay 
 
 With anxious heart at beauty's feet, 
 Purloin my first fond kiss, and then 
 
 In silence all its joys repeat — 
 
 And dream that I am younger ! 
 
 Away, away, I'm borne along. 
 
 Once more am I a little boy, 
 1 play at trap, and bat, and ball. 
 
 And shout, and run, and jump for joy ; 
 But, in the midst of all my mirth, 
 
 I'm roused to stern reality — 
 A twinge from my returning gout, 
 
 I jump and bawl with agony — 
 
 I would that I were younger !
 
 62 FUN. 
 
 MISS BUNKS AND HEE FLUNKEY; 
 
 OB, 
 
 A MAEEIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 Once at Hygate lived a fam'ly, 
 But for this unknown to fame. 
 
 Most respecterbuUest people, 
 Notwithstandin' Bunks by name. 
 
 Mister Wilyam Bunks, Ersquier, 
 Kep' a footman, Tomas Brown, 
 
 Wich the 'ousemaids did admier, 
 All the vay to London town. 
 
 Tomas Brown 'ad bushee viskers. 
 
 And a kurly 'ed o' 'air, 
 And a kipple o'karves hoose eakvals 
 
 Coodent be found any vare. 
 
 Wen he got behind the karridge, 
 
 And he riz upon their vews, 
 Eive feet ten he stood afore 'em, 
 
 Eive feet nine without his shoes. 
 
 Slender 'ouse maids' eyes would glissen 
 As the karridge took its flight, 
 
 And fat kooks wot scarce cood voddle, 
 Arter it wood take a site.
 
 MISS BTJKKS AIJD HEE TLUNKET. 63 
 
 But this footman node his manners, 
 Seem'd a gen'l'man born and bred, 
 
 And from kooks, and 'ouse, and nus-maids, 
 Allvays turned avay his 'ed. 
 
 Mister Bunks he 'ad a doorter, 
 
 Not pertick'lar 'ansum she, 
 Not pertick'lar hugly neether, 
 
 Wich most people did agree. 
 
 She "vros werry short in statute, 
 
 But a plum pish kind o' lass ; 
 'Air as black as any black' moor's, 
 
 Eyes as bright as shinen brass. 
 
 One day Tomas Brown the footman, 
 
 Wen old Bunks vos out 'o site. 
 As he 'elped her from the karridge, 
 
 Felt his arm squedge werry tite. 
 
 Vos it, vos it, haxidental ? 
 
 Yos it 'cos she feared a fall ? 
 No ! the side vay look she guv hira, 
 
 Plainly told him — not at all. 
 
 How his buzzum flitter fluttered, 
 
 How his 'art went pit-a-pat, 
 Tes, she luv'd him, and no gammon, 
 
 Squedge and look 'ad told him that.
 
 OJ? PUN. 
 
 VV^'en he karried in the dinner 
 She vos oppersite the door ; 
 And another look she guv him, 
 
 Jest as she had dun afore. 
 
 i 
 
 That there look it made him tremble 
 Vith hexitement, and he kood 
 
 Skarsely 'and for them the plates rouud, 
 As they served the preshus food. 
 
 Wen the seventh corse vos horder'd, 
 Then agen he cawt her eye, 
 
 And he stumbled, and he tumbled, 
 Sprawlin' vith a damsun pie. 
 
 Missus Bunks, slie did upbrade him : 
 Mister Bunks, him warnin' guv ; 
 
 But Miss Bunks, she did regard him 
 O'ny vith a look o' luv. 
 
 The next arternoon, while guv'ner 
 Vos a nappin' — O, so svete — 
 
 Tomas Brown vos in the parlor, 
 'JSeelin' at Miss Bunks's feet ! 
 
 The next mornin' Miss vos missen, 
 Tomas Brown vos missen too, 
 
 And a letter left by she, sed, 
 That toogether they 'ad flew.
 
 MISS BUIN'KS ASD HER rLUXKEr. 65 
 
 That T. Browu's most genteel manner 
 'Ad made her young buzzum smart ; 
 
 And his figger, karyes, and viskers, 
 Kvite kumpletely vun her 'art. 
 
 At the noose her mother fainted, 
 
 And her father svore a nonth, 
 That he'd search ontil he found 'em, 
 
 And then 'niherlate 'em both. 
 
 But vilst Missus vos in histrikes, 
 
 Bein' to her chamber karried, 
 Tomas Brown to her fare doorter 
 
 Vos by lysense beiu' married. 
 
 'Ardly 'ad the moon commenced 
 
 Wot's so werry full o' hunney, 
 Wen one moruin' at the brekfust, 
 
 " Brown," ses she, " you look so funny." 
 
 " Grashus 'evins ! rears your viskers ?" 
 Brown's hand felt upon his cheek,— 
 
 " Year, O tell me, vear's your karves run ?" 
 Brown, he not a vurd kood speak. 
 
 Fatal herror ! He 'ad taken 
 
 His false viskers orf to die, 
 And his 'orsehare karves forgotten, 
 
 Wich in his bed-room did lie. 
 
 r
 
 GQ FUN. 
 
 'Twas too much — she koodent bare it- 
 All vos false vitch she'd admir'd : 
 
 But his karves so kut her sole up, 
 Past all heelin' — she hexpir'd! 
 
 Skarsely 'ad hei' breth departur'd, 
 Wen a nock came at the door — 
 
 And anuther, and anuther, 
 Each vun louder than afore. 
 
 Brown's hed soon vos out o' winder, 
 
 On the steps a man did stand, 
 It vos Julee's frensied father, 
 
 A rewolwer in each hand. 
 
 Brown kood see his days vos number'd ; 
 
 He did like a jelly shiver — 
 His hed swum, he lost his balance, 
 
 Fell, and vos no more a livver. 
 
 Bunks he took the fatal noose home — 
 JSToose his vife varnt doom'd to 'ear — 
 
 She'd hexpir'd o' grief and brandy, 
 And vos stretch'd upon her beer. 
 
 'Tvos anuf for Bunks, he butter' d, 
 
 As on her he karst a loolv, 
 "I'm no moor" — then blow'd his brains out. 
 
 In the arms of Jane the kook.
 
 MISS BUNKS AND HER FLUNKEY. 07 
 
 MOKAL. 
 
 Ladies, lisseu to my moral : — 
 If your footman you hadmires, 
 
 'Kos he's got a knobby figger, 
 And he to your hand liaspires, 
 
 Wen the day you've fixtfor runnin', 
 Hecollect Miss Bunks's fate ! 
 
 Pinch his karves and pull his viskers, 
 Lest you find 'em false too late.
 
 FEELING AND FANCY. 
 
 " When one like me, 
 Happy to roam amid poetic flowers, 
 Though jDoor in skill to rear them, lights at last 
 On some fair theme, some theme divinely fair, 
 Such is the impulse and the spur he feels 
 To give it praise proportion'd to its worth, 
 That not t' attempt it, arduous as he deems 
 The labour, were a task more arduous still." 
 
 COWPER.
 
 FEELING AND FANCY. 
 
 MY ELYSIUM. 
 
 When worldly cares and worldly wrongs 
 
 Have done their best to make me sad, 
 But let my foot our threshold cross, 
 
 And once again my heart is glad ; 
 For oh ! such draughts of rare delight 
 
 Are mine as earth but seldom passes, 
 When sitting down, with wife among 
 
 Our goodly group of lads and lasses. 
 
 There's Horace with his rosy cheeks, 
 
 And merry shout e'er first to meet me, 
 And over stool and hassock rolls, 
 
 And tumbles in his haste to greet me. 
 Then little Walter, following up, 
 
 Bobs suddenly from 'neath the table. 
 And stretching forth his tiny hands, 
 
 Shouts "Da," as loud as he is able. 
 
 With sage inquiries wife must learn 
 How business to-day succeeded, 
 
 Opine I press too close to work, 
 In fact, much closer than is needed.
 
 72 TEELIXa AND TANCT, 
 
 The girls, I've four, encircle round. 
 To tell their little cares and pleasures ; 
 
 Meanwhile, the boys have seized my coat. 
 And rummaged out its hidden treasures. 
 
 Then comes the dinner, oh, my stars ! 
 
 It's quite a treat to see them muster, 
 And side by side in fair array. 
 
 About their steaming trenchers cluster. 
 Joy's crystals well into my eyes, 
 
 And silent thanks I send to heaven, 
 As gratitude o'erflows my heart 
 
 To Grod for every mercy given. 
 
 Whole heaps of books and pictures soon 
 
 As dinner's done engage attention. 
 And while the elder children con 
 
 Their tasks, I tax my poor invention 
 /\i,f^^ To s fa - ing - a song or pen a tale ; 
 
 But, should the muse prove coy or spurn me, 
 To my brave tomes of learned lore 
 
 Or gay romance I calmly turn me. 
 
 If summer suns have robed the earth 
 
 In beauteous green and blushing flowers, 
 With some rare bard's undying words, 
 
 We wander through the fields for hours ; 
 And, while the children posies make, 
 
 On each delightful page I ponder, 
 Till, by the minstrel's fancy charmed. 
 
 Through foiry worlds I dreaming wander.
 
 MY ELYSirM. 73 
 
 What, then, if I am not possessed 
 
 Of wide estates and brimming coffers, 
 Should I less thankful be to God, 
 
 For all the blessings that He offers ? 
 Had I been Croesus, all my gold 
 
 No wife more loving could have found me ; 
 Held I for empire all the world. 
 
 Would dearer weans have clung around mo r 
 
 J^o ; love is too divine of birth 
 
 for glittering counters to be bartered. 
 And those who'\"e only lived for gain 
 
 Have all life's holier moments martyred. 
 And so I strive to use my means. 
 
 As best I may, nor hoard nor squander ; 
 I'm happier, happier eveiy day. 
 
 And every day of life I'm fonder.
 
 74 TEELING AND FANCY 
 
 THE COUNTRY FAEEIEE. 
 
 On the skirts of the town and thrown back from the 
 road, 
 Stands the broad-fronted farrier's shed, 
 AYhere, with hammer in hand, and with face like a 
 brand, 
 Brave Will earns his toil-sweetened bread. 
 Though his palm it is rough, and his sinews are 
 tough, 
 His heart with affection runs o'er, 
 And he never was heard to let drop a hard word. 
 On the wayward, the fallen, or poor. 
 
 Distinctions are levelled within his domains, 
 
 For Captain, the team-horse, is there, 
 A sturdy old beast, just as grave as a priest, 
 
 Eubbing coat with Sir G-regory's mare. 
 The grocer's black pony, full harnessed for wfirk, 
 
 Stands dosily blinking beside, 
 The sleek little hack, on whose bright chestnut back 
 
 My lady delighteth to ride. 
 
 A rough-coated dog, with a good-humoured look, 
 Who barks at each strange passer-by. 
 
 Trots in and runs out, and goes scenting about 
 Where fragments and hoof-trimmings lie.
 
 THE COUNTET FAEEIEE. 
 
 A group of plump pigeons, like mighty moguls, 
 
 In majesty traverse the yard, 
 While over the door, at least half a score. 
 
 Have mounted a veteran guard. 
 
 b'- 
 
 Just crossing the road there's a cottage to let, 
 
 Which Will is for takmg, folk say ; 
 And I also have heard it by many averred. 
 
 He's oft seen with our rosy-cheeked May. 
 It strikes me I saw him last week in the town, 
 
 As the jeweller's shop I passed by, 
 At the sale counter stand, with some cash in his hand. 
 
 And a gold wedding-ring in his eye.
 
 76 FEELING AND FANCT. 
 
 ABOUT THE FIEE. 
 
 When Summer's roseate couch is stript, 
 And Autumn's fruit our garner fills, 
 
 And AYinter lifts bis hoary bead 
 
 Above the bare-browed northern hills : 
 
 AVhen gables quaint and sloping eaves 
 Are hung -with, ornaments of ice, 
 
 And window-panes traced o'er and o'er 
 With tree, and flower, and strange device 
 
 When lawn and paddock for awhile 
 Are carpeted with virgin snow, 
 
 And truant feet betray themselves 
 When from the beaten path they go : 
 
 How pleasant 'tis to draw one's chair 
 About the fire, as night descends ; 
 
 And cosy, con some favourite page. 
 Or join in chat with genial friends. 
 
 To quafi" the social cup of tea. 
 And talk about the olden time, 
 
 Ere we had known the cares of men. 
 Or joy of putting thoughts in rhyme.
 
 ABOUT THE FIllE. 77 
 
 Ere we had joined the field of fight, 
 
 To battle for our daily bread, 
 Or learned how off; fair truth is crushed 
 
 Beneath the monej-seeker's tread. 
 
 The table cleared, the candles trimm'd, 
 And wife's accustomed corner ta'en, 
 
 From joke to anecdote we slip — 
 
 From gay to grave, from land to main. 
 
 We wander 'neath a burning sun, 
 With Bruce, or Park, or Livingstone 
 
 AVith E.0S3 or hapless Franklin track 
 The ice-wastes of the frigid zone. 
 
 A pause : Song now becomes the theme, 
 We dwell on Milton's sacred lay ; 
 
 Seek Shelley in his mystic flight, 
 
 Or Keats, who died while yet the bay 
 
 His brow had won was being wove ; 
 
 Then list while Tennyson doth fling 
 Eare notes upon the wind, and then 
 
 Take freshening draughts from Browning's 
 spring.
 
 78 FEELINU AND FANCY. 
 
 Thus lured by pleasantries, Old Time 
 Glides swiftly on ; at length we start 
 
 To find how late it is — shake hands, 
 Yet grieve that we're compelled to part. 
 
 Then, while ye sing of verdant Spring, 
 Of Summer with her birds and flowers- 
 
 And Autumn's fruitage — add a strain 
 To Winter, for his social hours.
 
 MOKNIXG AND EVE3fIN&. 79 
 
 MOKNING AND EVENING. 
 
 When first the glorious god of day 
 
 Eliiigs wide his orient gates of gold, 
 And striding on his kingly way 
 
 Bids earth her varied charms unfold ; 
 When flower-cups briin with fairy wine, 
 
 And dew-pearls catch a ruddy glow, 
 And song birds wake their notes divine, 
 
 And balmy breezes softly blow — 
 Mead, wood, and dell I love to pace. 
 And greet dear Nature face to face. 
 
 When western skies are royal red, 
 
 And even spreads her dusky veil. 
 When love-lorn Luna over head 
 
 Brings forth the tuneful nightingale ; 
 When shepherds fold their fleecy care, 
 
 And gaily chirp the green-grass choirs, 
 When bat and moth whirl thi'ough the air, 
 
 And glow-worms light their elfin fires — 
 I love to roam o'er mead, o'er hill, 
 And let iny fancy sport at will.
 
 80 FEELING A.ND FANCY. 
 
 EOBEET BUENS.— IN MEMOEIAM. 
 
 A nrNDRED years Time's winged feet 
 
 Have sped their restless round, 
 As oft hath Summer's dainty hand 
 
 The earth with blossom crowned ; 
 Since Burns, immortal Eobert Burns, 
 
 To mither's bosom prest, 
 Lay, like a baby-bird of song, 
 
 In warm and sheltered nest. 
 
 Ah ! little dreamed his parents fond, 
 
 As his first accents rung. 
 In childish plaint, what magic strains 
 
 Were slumbering neath that tongue. 
 And as they smoothed his silken locks, 
 
 Or kissed his forehead fair, 
 Tliey saw not with prophetic eye 
 
 The laurel chaplet there. 
 
 Though Ill-success, with baiSing hand, 
 
 Their best designs threw o'er. 
 And want with wildly-glaring eye 
 
 Hung loitering round their door, 
 Love did not quit their low abode, 
 
 Nor, 'mid the gloaming gray, 
 Hope spread her downy pinions wide 
 
 And noiseless soar away.
 
 EOBEET BURNS. — IN MEMOBIAM. 81 
 
 No ! no ! a closer union knit 
 
 By each succeeding ill, 
 In self-reliance firm they stood, 
 
 Intent on victory still ; 
 And Eob, while yet a very boy 
 
 "With frame not over-strong, 
 Pound hand enough to grasp the plough. 
 
 And heart to sing a song. 
 
 As trills the mavis in the bush, 
 
 Or lark in mid air hung, 
 The music born within his soul 
 
 Eolled sweetly from his tongue. 
 He drew his inspiration from 
 
 Sweet Nature's fount divine ; 
 His altar was the mountain top. 
 
 I/' i . ■ - 
 
 1^ / The booming brae his shrine. 
 
 ^ A 
 
 Of bold and independent mind 
 
 He'd sympathies with all ; 
 The great, if good and wise ; if true, 
 
 The smallest of the small ; 
 And was a hapless mousie's nest 
 
 By ploughshare torn amain. 
 Or daisy flower overthrown 
 
 It wrought him bitter pain. 
 
 Oh, Burns ! immortal Hobert Burns, 
 Thy pages bright unfold 
 
 A world of rare poetic wealth, 
 A mine of mental gold.
 
 82 FEELING AND FANCY. 
 
 Love, Pity, Joy, their several veins 
 
 Run glistening side by side ; 
 AVTiile Wit, a bubbling fountain, pours 
 
 Her sparkling nectar wide. 
 
 Shall " Highland Mary" be forgot 
 
 "While stars from heaven beam ? 
 Or " Brigs of Ayr," or " Bonny Doon, ' 
 
 While Scotia's torrents stream ? 
 Shall " Tam O'Shanter" and his mare 
 
 Pass like a dream away, 
 While Mirth hath sides to shake, or Fun 
 
 Can make a holiday ? 
 
 No ! mighty Minstrel of the North, 
 
 While mountains bare their brows 
 In bold defiance to the storm, 
 
 And court the winter's snows ; 
 While Summer loves through vale and gorge 
 
 To lead her floral train, 
 The world shall joy and revel in 
 
 Thy richly varied strain.
 
 COMPENSATION'. S3 
 
 COMPEIS^SATIOX. 
 
 Though Poverty hath often bound 
 In chains of adainautuie mould, 
 The man whose name is now enrolled 
 
 On Fame's bright banner, laurel crown'd- 
 
 Though worldly malice, envy, hate, 
 Have persecuted Truth and Worth, 
 And sought to crush them from their birtli, 
 
 Still have they triumphed over Fate. 
 
 Their mi2;htv souls have borne them on. 
 And they have wrought their great emprise 
 Before the world's astonished eyes. 
 
 And everlasting victory won. 
 
 And when applauses loud and long 
 
 Have echoed through the welkin clear, 
 E'en Wealth has stepped aside to cheer, 
 
 And prudent Commerce joined the throng.
 
 84 PEELING AlHD TANCY. 
 
 And lazy Luxury looked out 
 
 With open mouth and vacant gaze, 
 And wonder'd from its world of haze 
 
 Whatever were mankind about. 
 
 Then up, brave soul, and forward press ; 
 
 The thorniest paths to glory lead ; 
 
 True, in the strife thy heart may bleed, 
 Biit worlds unborn thy name shall bless.
 
 OLD CHRISTMAS. 85 
 
 OLD CHRISTMAS, 
 
 Anotheb year bath passed away, 
 
 Commingling pains and pleasures ; 
 And merry Christmas comes again 
 
 To move to mirthful measures. 
 Again the welkin shall resound 
 
 With bursts of fervent gladness ; 
 And eyes, all sparkling bright with life, , 
 
 Shall banish care and sadness. 
 
 And pealing bells, from hoary towers, 
 
 The gladsome tidings bearing, 
 Shall put an end to Folly's feuds, 
 
 Love's heavenly code declaring. 
 And friends shall meet, and kinsfolk greet, 
 
 Their better man displaying ; 
 True Happiness o'er one and all 
 
 Her golden sceptre swaying. 
 
 Yes, son and daughter onee again 
 
 From distant cities hieing, 
 Towards the old parental roof 
 
 On wings of hope are flying ; 
 And hands are clasped, and lips are pressed, 
 
 A long, long year hath riven, 
 Till tears of bliss declare how close 
 
 E'en earth may draw to heaven.
 
 86 FEELING AND FANCi'. 
 
 A short respite the statesman wins, 
 
 The craftsman quits his labours, 
 And seeks fraternal intercourse 
 
 With merry-mooded neighbours. 
 The workshop's grimy portals close. 
 
 The factory clangour ceases ; 
 And to the conference of joy 
 
 Each toil-worn soul releases. 
 
 Then hang your walls with holly green, 
 
 Erom cottage-home to palace ; 
 And pile the board with goodly fare. 
 
 And fill the crystal chalice. 
 Let silvered heads and wrinkled brows, 
 
 Plump cheeks and glossy ti'esses, 
 Upon brave Christmas, ancient wight. 
 
 Pour down their warm caresses. 
 
 Tread youthful feet the mazy dance, 
 
 And grandame tell your story ; 
 And greybeard sing your old, old song. 
 
 With all your annual glory. 
 And sire indulge your passing joke. 
 
 And matron swell the laughter. 
 When greeted 'neath the mistletoe, 
 
 Your hand swung from the rafter.
 
 TUE COUNTRY CHAIE-MENDER. 87 
 
 THE COUNTRY CHAIR-MENDER. 
 
 Upon a pleasant bank he sate, 
 
 His wife was at his side, 
 His broad, good-humoured, honest face, 
 
 By summer's sun was dyed, 
 And he humm'd an old fiimiliar strain 
 
 The while his craft he plied. 
 
 Full oft a hurried glance he stole. 
 From task which brought him pelf, 
 
 To where a child lay in the grass, 
 A blue-eyed little elf, 
 
 Whose baby-laugh rang clear as he pull'd 
 Rare handfuls o'er himself. 
 
 The mother dropt the half-split cane, 
 
 To cull a kingcup bright. 
 And toss it to her only-born, 
 
 Who rolled in wild delight — 
 The prodigal pluck'd and flung abroad 
 
 Its petals in her sight. 
 
 Alas ! and oft when riper years 
 Should throne fair reason king, 
 
 From the fond parent's hand is caught, 
 On idle winds to fling, 
 
 The largess profter'd in love, and meant 
 Hallowed delights to bring.
 
 88 FEELING AND FANCY. 
 
 THE AVEXGEE. 
 
 'TwAS in tlie golden autumntide, 
 
 The harvest moon had waxed and spent, 
 Of standing corn the fields were shorn, 
 
 And mournful winds all wandering went 
 Among the crisp and crinkled leaves. 
 
 That trembled at their merest breath, 
 And staggered down from high-hill crown. 
 
 Into the solemn vale of death. 
 
 'Twas in the golden autumntide, 
 
 The hour was late, the night was dark. 
 When Eupert sped the way which led 
 
 Through Hubert Gorge, by Hubert Park 
 But, though the night was black, a cloud 
 
 Upon his brow still deeper hung ; 
 Hate festered in his jealous heart, 
 
 And curses trembled on his tongue. 
 
 "&' 
 
 Curses that went with serpent sound 
 
 Through close-clenched teeth, and hissing fell 
 Upon the shocked and startled air, 
 
 Like demons fleeing out of hell ; 
 Curses that told the bitter blood 
 
 That killed all feeling in his breast. 
 And nerved his hand to clutch the blade. 
 
 So closely to his bosom prest.
 
 TUE AVEKaEB. 89 
 
 'Twas in the golden autumntide, 
 
 The hour was late, the night was dark, 
 AVhen Arthur sped the way which led 
 
 To Hubert Gorge from Hubert Park. 
 Joy rapt ecstatic thrilled his frame, 
 
 From Marian's lips he'd promise won, 
 That at the altar they should kneel 
 
 United, ere the year had run. 
 
 The ancient elms made ghostly moan, 
 
 As through the sombre Chase he strode ; 
 Yet wherefore did he make that start. 
 
 Stagger, and sink upon the road ? 
 What meant that awful piercing shriek, 
 
 That echoed through the slumberous vale. 
 And bounded over mead and mere. 
 
 Until it died upon the gale ? 
 
 What meant it ? howls the fitful wind 
 
 A doleful answer, and the trees 
 Again repeat their ghostly moan, 
 
 Till fear the listening blood doth freeze. 
 What meant it ? Ask yon treacherous wight. 
 
 Now bending over Arthur Wray, 
 A stain is on his guilty hands 
 
 No earthly flood can wash away.
 
 00 FEELING AND FANCY. 
 
 'Twas in the golden autumntide, 
 
 The sun was up, the world awake, 
 When Eupert, dust-bestained and tired, 
 
 Paused by a stream his tliirst to slake. 
 A ghastly hue o'erspread his face, 
 
 With cautious leer his bloodshot eyes 
 Eolled restless round on every hand, 
 
 As wary, watching 'gainst surprise. 
 
 The market folk who passed him by. 
 
 And cried " good-morrow," smote his heart, 
 And casual glance, or friendly nod. 
 
 Caused pulse to quicken, limb to start ; 
 A rolling pebble made him turn ; 
 
 An urchin's " hallo " hold his breath ; 
 A chirping sparrow, pause in doubt ; 
 
 A dog bark, grow as i)ale as death. 
 
 Thrice up the road a dog-bay came, 
 
 His eyes dilated at the sound. 
 He, trembling, sprang upon his feet, 
 
 And cleared the streamlet at a bound ; 
 He cleared the streamlet like a deer. 
 
 And swiftly made towards the town ; 
 But still the dog's pursuing cry. 
 
 Told him too well the " Hunter Down." 
 
 His black locks streaming in the air, 
 Across the stubble fields he hies ; 
 
 He pauses not for breath, I wot ; 
 
 O'er gate, o'er hedge, o'er dyke he flies.
 
 TUi; avi;]s"CtEu. 91 
 
 His step is swift, his stride is long, 
 He seems to strengthen every bound ; 
 
 Yet more distinctly can he hear 
 The cry of the pursuing hound. 
 
 Wild horrors pierce his guilty soul. 
 
 Thoughts of escape he feels are vain ; 
 But still, to keep his hopeless flight, 
 
 Each nerve and muscle's on the strain 
 He calls upon those saints for help. 
 
 His mother's tongue so often blest 
 Yet still the dog's pursuing cry 
 
 Eeminds him he is closer prest. 
 
 At length the busy town is won, 
 
 The dog is hard upon his heels ; 
 He shrieks for succour, but in vain ; 
 
 The race is done — he pauses — reels — 
 And staggers like a drunken boor ; 
 
 All objects from his vision float — 
 He sinks against the market cross — 
 
 The blood-hoimd's fangs are on his throat. 
 
 #
 
 92 FEELING AND FANCY. 
 
 'Twas in the golden autumntide ; 
 A saintly maiden lay at rest, 
 
 A wreath of roses on her brow, 
 Her hands across upon her breast. 
 
 Yes, Marian — Arthur's own betrothed- 
 True to the promise she had given, 
 
 Though robbed of union on eartli, 
 Had gone to seek her love in heaven.
 
 THE SONG or THE STEAM ENGINE. 93 
 
 SONG OF THE STEAM ENGINE. 
 
 A LOEDLT wight was tbe ancient knight, 
 
 "When he mounted his brave bold steed, 
 And spurred amain o'er hill and plain. 
 
 At wind-outstripping speed, 
 Till he met the foeman front to front, 
 
 And fought him where he stood 
 With mace, and battle-axe, and sword. 
 
 And spilt his best life's blood. 
 But as gallant a wight, good sooth, is he, 
 
 Our Engine-driver, bold ; 
 And his steed's of higher mettle, I ween, 
 
 Than any knight's of old. 
 
 Nor whip nor spiir requireth he, 
 
 A touch, and off he flies. 
 Swifter than Jove's bright meteor's flash 
 
 Athwart the silent skies, 
 He spans the mighty river's breast, 
 
 And darts from vale to hill ; 
 By day and night he speeds his flight. 
 
 True to his master's will. 
 Then a gallant knight, good sooth, is he. 
 
 Our Engine-driver, bold ; 
 And his steed's of higher mettle, I ween, 
 
 Than any knight's of old.
 
 Ui rEELI>-G AST) FA.:NCy. 
 
 Where'er this iron courser's reined, 
 
 Fair Commerce lifts her head, 
 And Crime and Ignorance retreat 
 
 Before his thunder-tread. 
 Then clap your hands, and shout huzzali 
 
 Cheer ! cheer them on their way ! 
 For braver man or better steed 
 
 Hatli never seen the day. 
 Yes, a gallant knight, good sooth, is he, 
 
 Our Engine-driver, bold ; 
 And his steed's of higher mettle, I ween. 
 
 Than any knight's of old.
 
 BEAUTIFUL MAY. 
 
 95 
 
 BEAUTIFUL MAY. 
 
 Beautiful May ! thou art -n-itli us once more, 
 
 Modestly dight in thy virgin charms; 
 Beautiful May ! thou art with us once more, 
 
 Folding the world in thy loving arras. 
 Thy kiss hath made the apple-bloom blush, 
 
 And thy touch hath made the hawthorn white, 
 The laburnum unfold her tassels of gold, 
 
 And kingcup glow in the warm sunlight. 
 
 Beautiful May ! thou art with us again, 
 
 Moving the woods with thy odorous sighs ; 
 Beautiful May ! thou art with us again, 
 
 G-ladd'niug our hearts aud delighting our eyes. 
 The peasant's chubby and rose-cheeked boy 
 
 May romp in the grass with a roguish glee ; 
 And the village swain and the milkmaid keep 
 
 Their tryst, as of yore, 'neath the old elm-tree. 
 
 Beautiful May ! thou art with us again. 
 
 Thrilling the air with melodious sound ; 
 Beautiful May ! thou art with us again. 
 
 Showering heaven-born gladness around. 
 Far, far away with the joyful news 
 
 The butterfly flaunts his creamy wings ; 
 .\jQd the ciTT lifts her feeble hands, 
 
 And her languid form in thy soft lap flings.
 
 96 FEELING AND FANCY. 
 
 EPITAPH ON A PEIEND. 
 
 How grieved our hearts when thou wert torn 
 By grisly Death from our embrace ; 
 
 How sank our souls to see thee borne 
 To earth's dark, solemn resting-place. 
 
 But while our eyes confessed a tear, 
 Hope whispered consolation sweet ; 
 
 That when we ceased to sojourn here, 
 In happier worlds our souls might meet.
 
 wixtee's tagaries. 97 
 
 \V INTEE' S Y AGAHIES. 
 
 KiKG Winter dons his diadem, 
 His diadem of dazzling white ; 
 
 He quits his northern halls afar, 
 And hither bends his yearly flight. 
 
 His wild wind-steed is barely 'tired, 
 With polar ice each hoof is bound ; 
 
 Of rein and trapping free, alone 
 A crystal girdle clasps him round. 
 
 With flashing eye and streaming mane, 
 The eager courser takes his track ; 
 
 And snorts, as proud to find once more 
 His ancient master on his back. 
 
 The rider plies a busy hand ; 
 
 And spray of shrub and branch of tree 
 With festoons brighter far he hangs 
 
 Than Summer's leafy finery. 
 
 He whispers to the bustling brook — 
 There's witchery in his very tone, — 
 
 It, loitering, listens, and behold, 
 Is suddenly transfixed as stone. 
 
 H
 
 98 PEELING AND EANCT. 
 
 He drapes o'erlianging cottage eaves 
 With fancy fringe of dainty ice; 
 
 And pictures on each window-pane 
 Views of a frozen paradise. 
 
 "With wild " hallo !" the hamlet's passed, 
 And where the lonely sign-board swings. 
 
 Hard on its skirts, with liberal palm, 
 A wreath of maiden-snow he flings. 
 
 ^ti^ 
 
 At length the dozing city's gained ; 
 
 He dashes up its broad highways, 
 And down before each lordly home 
 
 A new-wove lily carpet lays. 
 
 He fain, when wide some mansion door 
 Is flung, would pass the portico ; 
 
 But goodly fare and blazing fire 
 
 Beat, beat him back with many a blow. 
 
 « 
 
 A shout ! a shriek ! away, away. 
 
 By nearest avenue he flies ; 
 And where the starving outcast girl 
 
 Drops down, for ever seals her eyes. 
 
 Where watchmen, Poverty and Death, 
 Incessant pace the alley dim. 
 
 He reaches in a bound, and lo ! 
 A passage free is yielded him.
 
 "winter's vagaries. 99 
 
 The young are palsied by his touch, 
 Their ill-clad limbs he nips and blains ; 
 
 He takes the aged in his grasp, 
 
 And racks them with the direst pains. 
 
 A wasting infant feebly clings 
 
 About its mother's famished breast ; 
 
 He looks upon the tiny thing — 
 It slumbers in eternal rest. 
 
 A cry — a startling cry— is borne, 
 Of sudden anguish, on the night ; 
 
 He mocks it with derisive wail. 
 And once again resumes his flight.
 
 100 FEELING AND EANCT. 
 
 MEREY-GO-EOUND : 
 
 A MAY-DAT SONG TOK LITTLE FOLK. 
 
 Come to the meadows — away, away ! 
 
 Oh! the sun shines bright, and the morn is 
 fair ; 
 The hawthorn's bloom yields sweet perfume 
 
 To gentlest touch of the breezes there. 
 In healthful sports our time we'll pass, 
 
 The fairest shall Queen of the May be crown'd, 
 While, hand in hand, our youthful band 
 
 All join in a merry-go-round, go-round. 
 
 Come to the meadows — away, away ! 
 
 'WTiere skyward tower the emerald hills ; 
 "Where Summer dowres with sweet wild flowers 
 
 The sloping banks of the rippling rills. 
 In liealthful sports our time we'll pass, 
 
 The fairest shall Queen of the May be crown'd. 
 While, hand in hand, our youthful band 
 
 All join in a merry-go-round, go-round.
 
 MEKET-GO-ROUND. 101 
 
 Come to the meadows — away, away ! 
 
 The laureate lark from the young green corn, 
 Soaring on high to the cloudless sky, 
 
 Pours forth an anthem of love to the morn. 
 A blossom-chaplet we will weave, 
 
 The fairest shall Queen of the May be crown'd, 
 ^yhile, hand in hand, our youthful band 
 
 All join in a merry-go-round, go-round.
 
 102 TEELING AlSh FAKCr 
 
 THE SAILOR'S LOVE-LETTER. 
 
 Dear Bessie, thougli by Eate compell'd 
 
 O'er distant waves to roam, 
 My heart foud record keeps of hours 
 
 Spent with old friends at home. 
 And often in the midnight watch. 
 
 When calmly through the sea 
 Our vessel glides, blest memory bears 
 
 Me back again to thee — 
 
 To thee, dear Bessie, thee. 
 
 And oft in danger's darkling hour, 
 
 When tempests sweep amain. 
 And winds fly shrieking thro' the shrouds 
 
 Till stout masts bend again, 
 I press that locket to my lips. 
 
 Dearer than all to me. 
 And pray that Heaven, sweet girl, may send 
 
 Our good ship back to thee — 
 
 To thee, dear Bessie, thee.
 
 THE sailor's LOTE-LETTER. 103 
 
 Then, Bessie, girl, take heart, take heart, 
 
 Nor heed what landsmen say- 
 About us sailors sweethearting 
 
 At every port -we stay. 
 There's not a lass I ever met 
 
 I'd wish to change for thee, 
 So good, and kind, and beautiful 
 
 Is my sweet Bess to me — 
 
 Tes, Bess, dear Bess, to me.
 
 104 FEELIXO AND FANCY. 
 
 GOD SEND A GOODLY HARVEST. 
 
 The tall coru bends its weighty ear 
 
 Before the playful wind, 
 And tiny children thither run, 
 
 The poppy flower to find. 
 The mower far afield, looks up 
 
 And wipes his swarthy brow, 
 And murmurs to his comrade by, 
 
 " The wheat is ripening now, 
 
 God send a goodly harvest." 
 
 We catch his words, with heart and soul 
 
 We echo them again, 
 God send our every garner soon 
 
 Be filled with golden grain. 
 That city reared and village born, 
 
 When wintry winds may blow, 
 Erom toddling babe to tottering age, 
 
 No want of bread may know — 
 
 God send a goodly harvest.
 
 GOD SEND A aOODLY HAEVEST. 105 
 
 x^ow blessings on the hands that worked 
 
 To tni the fruitful soil, 
 And blessings on the hands that aid 
 
 To gather up the spoil; 
 But woe upon forestalling knaves 
 
 Who selfishly have thriven, 
 By plundering the poor man's child 
 
 Of food its God hath given — 
 
 There'll be a final harvest.
 
 10() TEELING AND FANCY. 
 
 MOTHER'S POETEAIT. 
 
 Hee scanty locks are silver'd o'er, — 
 Full threescore years and ten and four 
 
 Hath summer brought her flowers ; 
 Pull threescore years and ten and four, 
 Hath roystering Christmas to her door 
 
 Come fresh from holly bowers. 
 
 But though revolving years have left 
 Lines on her brow, and care hath cleft 
 
 Tear runnels in her face ; 
 Her step is firm, and, day by day, 
 She cheerly jogs upon her way. 
 
 Ay, at no laggard's pace. 
 
 Without — time's marks alone abound, 
 Within — no trace of age is found, 
 
 No nature chill and sad : — 
 Youth strongly garrison's her heart. 
 Well fortifying every part, 
 
 And makes her spirit glad !
 
 SPRING. 
 
 107 
 
 SPEING. 
 
 Okce more the monarcli of the skies 
 The latent pulse of Xature moves, 
 
 And woos the wayside floret out, 
 
 And robes in green our ancient groves. 
 
 .Ajid age and infancy go forth, 
 
 Among the tender grass to sport ; 
 
 Or gather posies fresh and fair, 
 
 Where stately kingcup holds his court. 
 
 The chesnut droops its languid leaves, 
 Ere creamy cones bestud each spray, 
 
 And hawthorns cluster down the lane, 
 To breathe a sweetness through the day. 
 
 The quaint old mansion on the hill. 
 
 Through bowering foliage steals a look, 
 
 To where the maiden-willows 'range. 
 Their graceful tresses by the brook.
 
 lOS FEELING AND FANCY. 
 
 The pear tree shakes its snowy bloom 
 Upon the springy sward beneath ; 
 
 While round the apple's sinuous limbs, 
 
 Entwines a clustering blood-stained wreath. 
 
 The new-born butterfly sails out, 
 
 Upon his fairy-painted wing ; 
 And woodside choirs, with grateful hearts. 
 
 Pour forth their welcome to the spring.
 
 A heaet's eemembeance. 100 
 
 A HEAET'S EEMEMBEANCE. 
 
 INSCRIBED TO TV. F. ROCK, ESQ. 
 
 Amid our days of bustle and of strife, 
 Of sharp contention for the bread of life, 
 Of pushing, driving, cheating to obtain 
 More than one's neighbour, and believe it gain ; 
 Of crawling, dodging, lying for a toy 
 Of gingling guineas one may ne'er enjoy ; 
 Of crowding, pressing, toiling just to span 
 Some vain pre-eminence not worthy man ; 
 How soul-refreshing 'tis at times to meet 
 Some noble spirits 'mid the struggle's heat, 
 Wbo scorn the licensed pathway of the quack, 
 And seek advancement but in honour's track ; — 
 Men who possess some of our heavenly mould — 
 Men who have hearts not wholly wed to gold — 
 Men who have other joys than profits yield, 
 Who catch emotion from a flower-sprent field, 
 A bleak -browed mountain, or a slumbrous wood, 
 A gliding streamlet, or a sweeping flood ;
 
 110 TEELING AND FANCY. 
 
 Men strong and nervous when the coutest falls - 
 Men kind and loving -when aftection calls — 
 Men stern and sturdy when misfortunes lower — 
 Men soft and yielding wlien enthroned in power. 
 
 Two of such men it was my fate to meet, 
 
 When last year's sun illumined the fields of June, 
 
 Happily bowered with sister and with wife — 
 Eour kindred hearts that love did well attune. 
 
 The elder's brow was festooned round with white, 
 • Time-honoured locks, that well that brow became ; 
 His honest face was florid as a Scot's, 
 
 His bright eyes Puck-possessed and all aflame. 
 
 The second, younger by a many years, 
 
 A thorough Briton ,bubbling o'er with life, 
 
 And round and ruddy as a ripened peach, 
 
 Loved well a joke— still better loved his wife; 
 
 His wife, who with her elder sister, gave 
 Such gentle hearty welcome to their guest, 
 
 x\s freed at once his feelings from restraint, 
 And softly set all nervous doubts at rest. 
 
 No gaudy decorations smote the sight, 
 
 No dazzling glitter vulgar pride proclaimed ; 
 
 But solid worth sate modest and subdued, 
 Tasteful adornment in each chamber reigned.
 
 A heart's eemembeance. Ill 
 
 The room I entered cauglit a pleasant glimpse 
 Of lawn and shrubbery, and flou-er beds gay 
 
 With brilliant treasures of the balmy month, 
 That breathed a sweetness through the live-long 
 day. 
 
 Upon its wall a pair of portraits smiled, 
 
 A sire and dame with fern leaves hung around — 
 
 Mine host's dear parents, long since passed away, 
 But not forgotten, and with verdure crowned — 
 
 By gentle hands ; an annual custom when 
 
 Bither's loved birthday dawned upon their home, 
 
 In fond commemoration of their loss, 
 
 In blest remembrance of a heaven to come. 
 
 In sweet commune the afternoon was passed, 
 jFrom grave to gay was compassed in a bound ; 
 
 And now a story from the leaves of life, 
 
 And now a joke that made the laugh resound. 
 
 Anon some verses by old Devon's bard, 
 The liural Postman, who so sweetly sings 
 
 Her wayside florets, her umbrageous vales. 
 Her gliding rivers and her brawling spi'ings. 
 
 But while my soul was drinking deep of bliss. 
 As pure and holy as this world may yield, 
 
 Old Time stole on, with step as soft and light 
 As evening's zephyr o'er a daised field.
 
 112 FEELING AND TANCY. 
 
 The liovir least wished for suddenly arrived — 
 Tlie hour which warned me it was time to part ; 
 
 The day was over, but its joys had graven, 
 A life-long record on a grateful heart.
 
 let's be happy while AVE CAN. 113 
 
 LET'S BE HAPPY WHILE AVE CAN. 
 
 Let's be Happy while we can, 
 
 Smile, 'tis better far than frowning ; 
 Let's be happy while we can, 
 
 Life with glowing gladness crowning. 
 Heaven decrees not that our days 
 
 Should be spent in tears and mourning, 
 Or the skies had known no stars, 
 
 And the earth no flower-adorning. 
 
 Let's be happy while we can, 
 
 Care and Sorrow may be near us ; 
 Let's be happy while we can. 
 
 Love and Hope are sent to cheer us — 
 Love and Hope we welcome in. 
 
 Mirth and Jollity's invited, 
 Joy her crystal chalice fills 
 
 Eor the souls in Peace united.
 
 114 fEELIJfG AND FANC'T. 
 
 KING CHEISTMAS. 
 
 Come hang o'er head the mistletoe, 
 
 Bedeck the walls, and bring 
 The gnarled and knotty yule-log forth, 
 
 And greet Old Christmas King. 
 We love him with his frosty pate, 
 
 His round and jolly form, 
 For he bears summer to our hearts 
 'Midst winter's cold and storm. 
 
 Then join i' the laugh, and crack the joke, 
 
 And let the merry bells ring ; 
 And give our snowy-bearded liege 
 A hearty welcoming. 
 
 Toil's panting children rest awhile, 
 
 And Care is seen to fly 
 Before his wholesome, hearty laugh. 
 
 And mirthful twinkling eye. 
 Good-fellowship is beckon'd in, 
 Love bars out formal Pride ; 
 And angel-handed Charity 
 Sits at each ingle-side. 
 
 Then join i' the laugh, and crack the joke. 
 
 And let the merry bells ring ; 
 And give our snowy-bearded liege 
 A hearty welcoming.
 
 KING CHRISTMAS 115 
 
 Dear kinsfolk all the year apart. 
 
 He draws together now ; 
 Feuds are forgotten where lie plants 
 
 The beaded holly-bough — 
 There's not a face but beams delight, 
 
 Mirth quickens every tongue ; 
 Youth seems more fair and innocent, 
 Old age a-growing young. 
 
 Then join i' the laugh, and crack the joke, 
 
 xlnd let the merry bells ring : 
 And give our snowy-bearded liege 
 A hearty welcoming. 
 
 Yes, we will hang our walls with green. 
 
 And pile our goodly fare ; 
 And press about the jovial board. 
 
 The feast and fun to share. 
 We'll trip it o'er the oaken floor, 
 
 And wake the jocund song ; 
 For Christmas comes but once a-year, 
 And does not tarry long. 
 
 We'll join i' the laugh, and crack the joke, 
 
 And make the merry bells ring ; 
 And give our snowy-bearded liege 
 A hearty welcoming.
 
 110 FEELING AND FANCY. 
 
 WANDEEINGS WITH MY MUSE. 
 
 "When worldly woes my soul oppress, 
 And from Lite's troubles fain I'd fly, 
 Then, gentle Muse, thou drawest nigli 
 
 To calm, to comfort, and to bless. 
 
 Thou spread' st thy pinions to the wind. 
 And I am borne to realms of light. 
 Where beauty ravishes the sight. 
 
 And Love and Virtue dwell enshrined. 
 
 Anon, we tread the meads of May, 
 I cull the hawthorn's blossom fair 
 To wreathe in fancy round thy hair, 
 
 Sweet Muse ; then trip we on our way — 
 
 Through silent grove and greeny nook ; 
 Through flowery dingle, solemn glade, 
 By roaring torrent, gay cascade, 
 
 Grray, gliding river, babbling brook. 
 
 Earthly afilnity's no more, 
 
 A god-like thrill vibrates my frame, 
 I feel my soul rise like a flame, 
 
 Mv heart with rapture runneth o'er.
 
 WANDEBII^GS WITH ilY MUSE. 117 
 
 Yet wise friends laughed when erst 1 sung 
 My earliest pagans in thy name, 
 They mocked and bade me hide for shame 
 
 My siiDple lyre, so rudely strung. 
 
 They could not worship at that shrine 
 Where fervid-hearted minstrels throng, 
 Their souls were never drunk with song, 
 
 Howe'er their sage heads reeled with wine. 
 
 I care not for the world's despite, 
 
 I'm better for thy communings ; 
 
 Thou'st swept my nature's tenderest strings, 
 And whispered mercy, love, and right. 
 
 London Thomas Harrild, Printer, Shoe Lane, Fleet Street.
 
 REVIEWS 
 
 (iF 
 
 CLARE, THE GOLD SEEKEE, 
 
 AXD OTHEE POEMS.
 
 OPINIONS OF THE PRESS 
 
 UI'OK 
 
 CL&RE, THE GOLD SEEKER, 
 
 THE ELFIN REVEL, 
 
 AXD OTHER POEMS. 
 
 BY JOHN GEORGE WATTS. 
 
 From the " Ceitic." 
 
 " Nature would be less grand and suggestive, if she had not 
 a constant tendency to improve her condition out of most ap- 
 parently adverse circumstances. Where trees are most thickly 
 planted) as in most of our native woods, each one struggles to 
 rise above its fellow, so as to lift its leafy brow into the sun- 
 light, and the result is a supply of lofty stems so necessary for 
 domestic purposes. Man is not backward when trees teach him 
 such examples ; and so we have instances of poets rising to 
 mental distinction, whose early life has been a frequent struggle 
 with poverty and a constant acquaintance with bodily toil. Such 
 poets should not be spoken of flippantly, inasmuch as they have 
 borne the cross of human trial manfully. That they do not 
 write so elegantly or powerfully as those who have had a 
 liberal education and the advantage of travel, is not to be
 
 wondered at ; but when they write so correctly as not to betray 
 the deficiencies of early culture, they become objects of interest 
 and commendation. To send an arrow of criticism quivering 
 into the flesh of such men would be a shame and a sham. The 
 autocrats of the press have done as much ere this ; but they 
 have never been able to divert the strong sense of the public 
 from seeing that the bonds of society are strengthened, and not 
 loosened by the intellectual advancement of what are degradingly 
 termed ' the lower classes.' Is Mr. "Watts, author of ' Clare, the 
 Gold Seeker,' a more dangerous man because he now writes 
 poetrj-, of which no author need be ashamed, whereas he once 
 could not write a half dozen lines correctly, and used to wear a 
 canvas smock, and worked hard as a porter in Billingsgate 
 Market ? It is very clear that in his brief history mental and 
 physical progress have been mutual ; and such, in the main, is 
 the history of humanity. Mr. Watts is a noble example to the 
 working men of England, a living instance that writing is not 
 an antagonism to working, or, in other words, that an active 
 brain does not infer a lazy hand. The Defence of Poetry, by 
 Shelley, is feeble by comparison ; its strongest defence lived in 
 such a man as Burns, and is living still in Gerald Massey, 
 Edward Capern, and the subject of our present article, who may 
 be seen selling his fish every morning in Billingsgate Market. 
 Of John Watts we desire to speak not vauntingly, but justly. 
 His poetry is not celebrated for splendid imagination or subtle 
 thought; but it is pure, fresh, and frequently very beautiful. 
 Next to its natural piety is its cheerfulness — if, indeed, the two 
 can ever be separated. Every stanza in the book is healthy, in- 
 asmuch as it dignifies labour, while it applauds the graces of the 
 mind. One little poem — and a very delightful one it is — will 
 best exhibit the character and taste of the author — ' There's Joy 
 for you and me.' " * * * * * * 
 
 From " Chambers' Journal." 
 
 " At fourteen years of age our author went into an office, to 
 drudge at rough copying from morning till night for five shillings
 
 3 
 
 a week ; then he sat all alone upon the floor of a pawnbroker's 
 warehouse, for still longer hours, reading novels and rummaging 
 out pledges ; then, although wages were due to him, he ran off 
 one fine day with a solitary half-crown in his pocket, to live for 
 the rest of his life in the merrie green wood, hut came back when 
 he reflected that his mother would be inconsolable at his dis- 
 appearance ; then he inhaled the dust of a furrier's warehouse, 
 and then of a coney-cutters, till his poor wages and sinking 
 health induced his father to send him to work among the salmons 
 at Billingsgate. This was the turn of his fortune ; our hero, at 
 thirty years of age, has now a standing in the market of his 
 own, his business finishes at ten in the morning ; he has a cottage, 
 a garden, a wife and children ; he entertains literary society not 
 quite confined to his own rank, and he shakes hands with Leigh 
 Hunt ! Verse making, Mr. "Watts tells us, mentally and morally 
 speaking, has enriched him considerably, it has made him 
 happier in every sense ; it has elevated his nature and gained 
 him the sympathy and friendship of those who are distinguished 
 by more than wealth. The contents of this volume will have a 
 corresponding efi'ect upon others. It is full of a vigorous, 
 wholesome, and inspiring spirit, as will be felt by all who read 
 the piece we quote, although others might be selected that are 
 •far more poetical. ' My Possessions.' " * * * 
 
 From the " Literary Gazette." 
 
 " The softer glimpses of a hard life, the recreations of even- 
 ings following days of toil, which the author has found not un- 
 congenial. His lyrics remind us strongly of Gerald Massey. He 
 •writes principally of progress and domestic happiness." 
 
 From the " John Bull.' 
 
 " Mr. Watts' volume we have read with very great pleasure. 
 He lives at "Walworth, and has given us in his poems some 
 pleasant sketches of bis domestic circle. He has also in his pre-
 
 face described in a simple and agreeable manner his literary life. 
 
 * * * We would like to know more of Mr. Watts' 
 experiences ; how he struggled on when he was carrying salmon 
 by day and stringing verses by night, what poets he has most 
 loved and followed, and what was the character of that 'Working 
 Man's Institution,' from which he seems to have derived benefit 
 — no small credit to a society of that class, most of which have 
 been utter failures, at least so far as concerns the advantages 
 which were anticipated from them for working men." 
 
 From the " Weekly Dispatch." 
 " These poems breathe of tenderness and feeling, possess many 
 fine touches of human nature, and are alike creditable to the 
 tastes, perseverance, and aspirations of the author. ' Clare, the 
 Gold Seeker,' has a tragic touch about it, and the ' Elfin Revel ' 
 has many natural beauties." 
 
 From the " Monthly Eegister." 
 
 " That Mr. Watts is not deficient in pathos is amply proved 
 by several poems, which are simple and touching in the extreme ; 
 such are the ' Old Man's Eamble,' ' The Invalid,' and ' Sister 
 Bessy,' from which latter, on account of its striking contrast to 
 his more vigorous writing, we make a few extracts. * * 
 
 * * * The social and domestic poems remind us much 
 of Eliza Cook, and it is in such poems as ' My Possessions,' 
 ' Past and Present,' * The Half Holiday,' etc., that the true poet 
 is recognizable. It evinces that mystic power which was the 
 great secret of Hood's pathos, and which made the before- 
 mentioned poetess ' popular' in the highest sense of the word, 
 viz., the power oi finding poetry in everything— even in the 
 ordinary circumstances of every-day life, and of revealing it to 
 the most illiterate and simple minded." 
 
 From the " Illustrated News of the World. 
 "We have had ere now peasant-poets, shoemaker-poets, 
 water-poets, blacksmith-poets, and tailor-poets. Here we have
 
 a Billingsgate-poet. Start not, gentle reader, our Billingsgate 
 bard does not sing in the language of that redoubtable mart. He 
 is a thorough-bred Englishman, andhas as large a command of the 
 resources of his mother tongue as many men of higher name ; 
 nay, in many cases, he shows no small mastery over its powers 
 and flexibility. "What we like in John "Watts is his manly self- 
 reliance. There is no nonsense about him, he pretends to nothing 
 but a stout heart and a strong arm, with which he wins his in- 
 dependent bread, and a sweet clear voice, with which he warbles 
 to cheer his labours. Here is a picture of a man worthy to stand 
 out as a specimen of that race whose conquering march has 
 subdued the east and west, and encircled the world with its in- 
 fluence and power. * * * * Many of the pieces 
 in this volume possess merit of a high order, and all of them are 
 characterised by a large and genial spirit. The following 
 passage from the commencement of the poem caUed ' The Elfin 
 Revel,* awakens something more than wonder that it could have 
 been written by a man who carried a porter's knot and taught 
 himself how to write. * * * * t^'q ^^ke leave 
 of Mr. "Watts with feelings of warm esteem for him as a man, 
 and admiration for him as a self-taught scholar and poet." 
 
 From the "London News." 
 
 " Mr. John George Watts, the Billingsgate Poet, has been 
 favourably known to the public as a writer of musical verses of a 
 patriotic character. Mr. Watts was educated at a Charity School, 
 from which, by the regulations, he was turned out into the world 
 at fourteen years of age. He passed through various positions, 
 but seems to have cultivated his poetical temperament in the 
 store-room of a pawnbroker's, till, inflamed by ' Robinson 
 Crusoe,' he ran away from his employei'. His attachment for 
 his mother brought him back to the hard realities of life, which 
 at last found their exponent in Billingsgate Fish Market, where 
 our author carried salmon by day and strung verses by night. 
 Daring this time, by great self-denial, he considerably improved
 
 6 
 
 his education and taste, and his abilities gained him the esteem 
 of more than one good friend. We should have been proud to 
 have enrolled ourselves among the number, for Mr. Watts' life 
 is that of a hero, whose example every working-man should 
 profit by. From the poems themselves we shall quote from time 
 to time. They are all good, and many contain gems of thought." 
 
 From the " Somekset County Gazette." 
 
 " The little book of poems before us is the production of one 
 born to toil, but who, having a natural bent for poesy, cultivated 
 the heaven-born talent amid difficulties through which he nobly 
 and perseveringly struggled, gaining laurels from men of literary 
 talent, and winning golden opinions from all sorts of men. 
 About his poems there is a vein of generous good feeling and 
 veneration for the beautiful and true in life, with an occasional 
 quaintness that is exceedingly gratifying to the reader. But 
 notwithstanding the beauty of many of the pieces in this book, 
 he undoubtedly excels in humorous narratives and descriptions. 
 There the natural wit and lively humour of the man find vent, 
 and he leads his readers at one and the same time from grave to 
 gay, from lively to severe. As on the village hedgerow we occa- 
 sionally observe the graceful foxglove conspicuous in its beauty 
 over the surrounding shrubs, so our poet has created for himself 
 an elevated and honourable position among his fellow men." 
 
 From the " Sussex Mercury." 
 
 " Were it not that in a most useful and interesting preface, 
 Mr. Watts gives a sketch of his own career ' upward and on- 
 ward,' we should never suspect or glean from these poems that 
 they were written by one so lately a working-man — strictly hard 
 working — for he was a fish porter in Billingsgate Maiket, and 
 from this drudgery has elevated himself to a comfortable 
 position ; from the worse bondage of a fettered mind has by 
 energy and perseverance freed himself, and, self educated, gives 
 his volume to the world as a proof how much may be accom-
 
 pushed by strength of will and well-directed purpose, and how 
 graceful a statue may lie in a very rough quarry. The author is 
 evidently a lover of nature in ail her moods, and in the 'Elfin 
 Revel ' (an imaginative poem of some length and much beauty), 
 and ' I Love my Little Cottage,' we have something infinitely 
 more real than mere word pictures — we not only see the flowers, 
 but we scent their perfume. The tiny people are true fairies, 
 and their chorus commencing — 
 
 ' Gather we, gather we, near and far. 
 From chilly north and balmy east,' 
 
 is sweet and musical in the extreme, with an elfin lightness 
 seldom surpassed. We think this should have been the 
 primary poem of the volume, for although ' Clare, the Gold 
 Seeker' has more of interest, the ' Elfin Revel ' displays much 
 higher poetic power. ' A Tale of the Sea' is dramatically told. 
 The ' Half-Holiday' will cause many a sedate man t > glance back 
 through life's long work-days to the precious half-holidays, when 
 life was new and vigorous, and gout or asthma things unknown. 
 There is a healthy tone in the book which is not its least recom- 
 mendation, and though he does not soar to the sublime incom- 
 prehensible mysticisms of some of our modern bards, the author 
 is often vigorous, sometimes pathetic, and always perspicuous."
 
 This book is DUE on the last 
 date stamped below. 
 
 liAR23«S4 
 
 MAR 2 5 l^^^i 
 
 %. 
 
 1-50(2^5)470 
 
 
 REMINGTON RAND INC. 20 
 
 
 ^4
 
 7a 000 368 917 1 
 
 t 
 
 PLEA*?^ DO NOT REMOVE 
 THIS BOOK CARD i 
 
 
 s 
 
 :ti 
 
 ^^tUBRARYO/C 
 
 ^ 
 
 
 
 
 z 
 c 
 z 
 
 (S 
 
 m 
 
 Jl 
 -J 
 
 vjl 
 
 .llllllR 
 
 •war 
 
 University Research Library 
 
 1 < 
 
 o 
 
 ?^