WILL WATERPROOF'S LYRICAL MONOLOGUE. 127 He looks not like the common breed That with the napkin dally; The Cock was of a larger egg And cramm'd a plumper crop ; Crow'd lustier late and early, Sipt wine from silver, praising God, A private life was all his joy, That knuckled at the taw: He stoop'd and clutch'd him, fair and good, Stock-still for sheer amazement. But he, by farmstead, thorpe and spire, And follow'd with acclaims, A sign to many a staring shire Came crowing over Thames. Right down by smoky Paul's they bore, Till, where the street grows straiter, One fix'd for ever at the door, And one became head-waiter. But whither would my fancy go? Among the chops and steaks! 'Tis but a steward of the can, One shade more plump than common ; As just and mere a serving-man As any born of woman. I ranged too high what draws me down Into the common day? Is it the weight of that half-crown, Which I shall have to pay? For, something duller than at first, Nor wholly comfortable, I sit, my empty glass reversed, Half fearful that, with self at strife, I leave an empty flask : So fares it since the years began, Nor much their wisdom teaches; We know not what we know. 'Tis gone a thousand such have slipt And fall'n into the dusty crypt Go, therefore, thou! thy betters went From misty men of letters; Hours, when the Poet's words and looks Had made him talk for show; But, all his vast heart sherris-warm'd, So mix for ever with the past, Like all good things on earth! For should I prize thee, couldst thou last, At half thy real worth? I hold it good, good things should pass : With time I will not quarrel : It is but yonder empty glass That makes me maudlin-moral. Head-waiter of the chop-house here, To which I most resort, I too must part: I hold thee dear For this, thou shalt from all things suck Marrow of mirth and laughter; But thou wilt never move from hence, Thy latter days increased with pence Go down among the pots: We fret, we fume, would shift our skins, Thy care is, under polish'd tins, To serve the hot-and-hot; Live long, ere from thy topmost head The thick-set hazel dies; Long, ere the hateful crow shall tread The corners of thine eyes: Live long, nor feel in head or chest Till mellow Death, like some late guest, But when he calls, and thou shalt cease And, laying down an unctuous lease No carved cross-bones, the types of Shall show thee past to Heaven : But carved cross-pipes, and, underneath, A pint-pot neatly graven. LADY CLARE. IT was the time when lilies blow, I trow they did not part in scorn : Lovers long-betroth'd were they : They too will wed the morrow morn : God's blessing on the day! 'He does not love me for my birth, Nor for my lands so broad and fair; He loves me for my own true worth, And that is well,' said Lady Clare. In there came old Alice the nurse, Said, Who was this that went from thee?' 'It was my cousin,' said Lady Clare, 'To-morrow he weds with me.' 'O God be thank'd!' said Alice the nurse, 'That all comes round so just and fair : Lord Ronald is heir of all your lands, And you are not the Lady Clare.' THE CAPTAIN. A LEGEND OF THE NAVY. HE that only rules by terror Doeth grievous wrong. Deep as Hell I count his error. Let him hear my song. Brave the Captain was: the seamen Made a gallant crew, Gallant sons of English freemen, Sailors bold and true. But they hated his oppression, Seem'd the Captain's mood. Wheresoe'er he came. So they past by capes and islands, Many a harbour-mouth, Sailing under palmy highlands Far within the South. On a day when they were going O'er the lone expanse, In the north, her canvas flowing, Rose a ship of France. Then the Captain's colour heighten'd, Joyful came his speech : But a cloudy gladness lighten'd In the eyes of each. 'Chase,' he said: the ship flew forward, And the wind did blow; Stately, lightly, went she Norward, Till she near'd the foe. Then they look'd at him they hated, Each beside his gun. On the decks as they were lying, Were their faces grim. In their blood, as they lay dying, For his noble name, With one smile of still defiance Sold him unto shame. Shame and wrath his heart confounded, Pale he turn'd and red, Till himself was deadly wounded Falling on the dead. Dismal error! fearful slaughter! Years have wander'd by, Side by side beneath the water Crew and Captain lie; There the sunlit ocean tosses O'er them mouldering, And the lonely seabird crosses THE LORD OF BURLEIGH. IN her ear he whispers gaily, 'If my heart by signs can tell, Maiden, I have watch'd thee daily, And I think thou lov'st me well.' |