And turn thy steed for thee.”
And now commenced a struggle
Between that steed and rider,
[80] For all the strength that he hath left
Doth not suffice to guide her.
Though Ulfrid and his sister
Have kindly stopped the way,
And all the crowd have cried aloud,
“We can’t wait here all day!”
Round turned he, as not deigning
Their words to understand,
But he slipped the stirrups from his feet,
The bridle from his hand,
[90] And grasped the mane full lightly,
And vaulted from his seat,
And gained the road in triumph,
And stood upon his feet.
All firmly till that moment
Had Ulfrid Longbow stood,
And faced the foe right valiantly,
As every warrior should.
But when safe on terra firma
His brother he did spy,
[100] “What did you do that for?” he cried,
Then unconcerned he stepped aside
And let it canter by.8
They gave him bread and butter,9
That was of public right,
As much as four strong rabbits,
Could munch from morn to night,
For he’d done a deed of daring,
And faced that savage steed,
And therefore cups of coffee sweet,
[110] And everything that was a treat,
Were but his right and meed.
And often in the evenings,
When the fire is blazing bright,
When books bestrew the table
And moths obscure the light,
When crying children go to bed,
A struggling, kicking load,
We’ll talk of Ulfrid Longbow’s deed,
How, in his brother’s utmost need,
[120] Back to his aid he flew with speed,
And how he faced the fiery steed,
And kept the New Croft Road.
The Poet’s Farewell
All day he had sat without a hat,
The comical old feller,
Shading his form from the driving storm
With the Rectory Umbrella.
When the storm had passed by, and the ground was dry,
And the sun shone bright on the plain,
He arose from his seat, and he stood on his feet,
And sang a melting strain:
All is o’er! the sun is setting,
[10] Soon will sound the dinner bell;
Thou hast saved me from a wetting,
Here I’ll take my last farewell!
Far dost thou eclipse the Maga-
zines which came before thy day,
And thy coming made them stagger,
Like the stars at morning ray.
Let me call again their phantoms,
And their voices long gone by,
Like the crow of distant bantams,
[20] Or the buzzing of a fly.
First in age, but not in merit,
Stands the Rectr’y Magazine;
All its wit thou dost inherit,
Though the Comet came between.
Novelty was in its favour,
And mellifluous its lays,
All, with eager plaudits, gave a
Vote of honour in its praise.
Next in order comes the Comet,
[30] Like some vague and feverish dream,
Gladly, gladly turn I from it,
To behold thy rising beam!
When I first began to edit,
In the Rect’ry Magazine,
Each one wrote therein who read it,
Each one read who wrote therein.
When the Comet next I started,
They grew lazy as a drone:
Gradually all departed,
[40] Leaving me to write alone.
But in thee – let future ages
Mark the fact which I record,
No one helped me in thy pages,
Even with a single word!
But the wine has left the cellar,
And I hear the dinner bell,
So fare thee well, my old Umbrella,
Dear Umbrella, fare thee well!
Mischmasch (c. 1855–62)
The Two Brothers
There were two brothers at Twyford school,
And when they had left the place,
It was, “Will ye learn Greek and Latin?
Or will ye run me a race?
Or will ye go up to yonder bridge,
And there we will angle for dace?”
“I’m too stupid for Greek and for Latin,
I’m too lazy by half for a race,
So I’ll even go up to yonder bridge,
[10] And there we will angle for dace.”
He has fitted together two joints of his rod,
And to them he has added another,
And then a great hook he took from his book,
And ran it right into his brother.
Oh much is the noise that is made among boys
When playfully pelting a pig,
But a far greater pother was made by his brother
When flung from the top of the brigg.
The fish hurried up by the dozens,
[20] All ready and eager to bite,
For the lad that he flung was so tender and young,
It quite gave them an appetite.
Said he, “Thus shall he wallop about
And the fish take him quite at their ease,
For me to annoy it was ever his joy,
Now I’ll teach him the meaning of ‘Tees’!”
The wind to his ear brought a voice,
“My brother, you didn’t had ought ter!
And what have I done that you think it such fun
[30] To indulge in the pleasure of slaughter?
“A good nibble or bite is my chiefest delight,
When I’m merely expected to see,
But a bite from a fish is not quite what I wish,
When I get it performed upon me;
And just now here’s a swarm of dace at my arm,
And a perch has got hold of my knee!
“For water my thirst was not great at the first,
And of fish I have had quite sufficien–”
“Oh fear not!” he cried, “for whatever betide,
[40] We are both in the selfsame condition!
“I am sure that our state’s very nearly alike
(Not considering the question of slaughter),
For I have my perch on the top of the bridge,
And you have your perch in the water.
“I stick to my perch and your perch sticks to you,
We are really extremely alike;
I’ve a turn-pike up here, and I very much fear
You may soon have a turn with a pike.”
“Oh, grant but one wish! If I’m took by a fish
[50] (For your bait is your brother, good man!)
Pull him up if you like, but I hope you will strike
As gently as ever you can.”
“If the fish be a trout, I’m afraid there’s no doubt
I must strike him like lightning that’s greased;
If the fish be a pike, I’ll engage not to strike,
’Till I’ve waited ten minutes at least.”
“But in those ten minutes to desolate Fate
Your brother a victim may fall!”
“I’ll reduce it to five, so perhaps you’ll survive,
[60] But the chance is exceedingly small.”
“Oh hard is your heart for to act such a part;
Is it iron, or granite, or steel?”
“Why, I really can’t say – it is many a day
Since my heart was accustomed to feel.
“ ’Twas my heart-cherished wish for to slay many fish,
Each day di
d my malice grow worse,
For my heart didn’t soften with doing it so often,
But rather, I should say, the reverse.”
“Oh would I were back at Twyford school,
[70] Learning lessons in fear of the birch!”
“Nay, brother!” he cried, “for whatever betide,
You are better off here with your perch!
“I am sure you’ll allow you are happier now,
With nothing to do but to play;
And this single line here, it is perfectly clear,
Is much better than thirty a day!
“And as to the rod hanging over your head,
And apparently ready to fall,
That, you know, was the case, when you lived in that place,
[80] So it need not be reckoned at all.
“Do you see that old trout with a turn-up-nose snout?
(Just to speak on a pleasanter theme,)
Observe, my dear brother, our love for each other –
He’s the one I like best in the stream.
“To-morrow I mean to invite him to dine
(We shall all of us think it a treat,)
If the day should be fine, I’ll just drop him a line,
And we’ll settle what time we’re to meet.
“He hasn’t been into society yet,
[90] And his manners are not of the best,
So I think it quite fair that it should be my care,
To see that he’s properly dressed.”
Many words brought the wind of “cruel” and “kind,”
And that “man suffers more than the brute”:
Each several word with patience he heard,
And answered with wisdom to boot.
“What? prettier swimming in the stream,
Than lying all snugly and flat?
Do but look at that dish filled with glittering fish,
[100] Has Nature a picture like that?
“What? a higher delight to be drawn from the sight
Of fish full of life and of glee?
What a noodle you are! ’tis delightfuller far
To kill them than let them go free!
“I know there are people who prate by the hour
Of the beauty of earth, sky, and ocean;
Of the birds as they fly, of the fish darting by,
Rejoicing in Life and in Motion.
“As to any delight to be got from the sight,
[110] It is all very well for a flat,
But I think it all gammon, for hooking a salmon
Is better than twenty of that!
“They say that a man of a right-thinking mind
Will love the dumb creatures he sees –
What’s the use of his mind, if he’s never inclined
To pull a fish out of the Tees?
“Take my friends and my home – as an outcast I’ll roam:
Take the money I have in the Bank –
It is just what I wish, but deprive me of fish,
[120] And my life would indeed be a blank!”
Forth from the house his sister came,
Her brothers for to see,
But when she saw that sight of awe,
The tear stood in her ee.
“Oh what bait’s that upon your hook,
My brother, tell to me?”
“It is but the fantailed pigeon,
He would not sing for me.”
“Whoe’er would expect a pigeon to sing,
[130] A simpleton he must be!
But a pigeon-cote is a different thing
To the coat that there I see!
“Oh what bait’s that upon your hook,
My brother, tell to me?”
“It is but the black-capped bantam,
He would not dance for me.”
“And a pretty dance you are leading him now!’
In anger answered she,
“But a bantam’s cap is a different thing
[140] To the cap that there I see!
“Oh what bait’s that upon your hook
Dear brother, tell to me?”
“It is my younger brother,” he cried,
“Oh woe and dole is me!
“I’s mighty wicked, that I is!
Or how could such things be?
Farewell, farewell, sweet sister,
I’m going o’er the sea.”
“And when will you come back again,
[150] My brother, tell to me?”
“When chub is good for human food,
And that will never be!”
She turned herself right round about,
And her heart brake into three,
Said, “One of the two will be wet through and through,
And t’other’ll be late for his tea!”
Croft. 1853
The Dear Gazelle
She’s All My Fancy Painted Him A Poem
This affecting fragment was found in MS., among the papers of the well-known author of “Was it You or I?” a tragedy, and the two popular novels “Sister and Son,” and “The Niece’s Legacy, or the Grateful Grandfather.”
She’s all my fancy painted him
(I make no idle boast);
If he or you had lost a limb,
Which would have suffered most?
He said that you had been to her,
And seen me here before;
But, in another character,
She was the same of yore.
There was not one that spoke to us,
[10] Of all that thronged the street;
So he sadly got into a ’bus,
And pattered with his feet.
They sent him word I had not gone
(We know it to be true);
If she should push the matter on,
What would become of you?
They gave her one, they gave me two,
They gave us three or more;
They all returned from him to you,
[20] Though they were mine before.
If I or she should chance to be
Involved in this affair,
He trusts to you to set them free,
Exactly as we were.
It seemed to me that you had been
(Before she had this fit)
An obstacle, that came between
Him, and ourselves, and it.
Don’t let him know she liked them best,
[30] For this must ever be
A secret, kept from all the rest,
Between yourself and me.
From “Photography Extraordinary”
“the milk-and-water School of novels”
“Alas! she would not hear my prayer!
Yet it were rash to tear my hair;
Disfigured, I should be less fair.
She was unwise, I may say blind;
Once she was lovingly inclined;
Some circumstance has changed her mind.”
“the matter-of-fact School”
“Well! so my offer was no go!
She might do worse, I told her so;
She was a fool to answer ‘No.’
[10] However, things are as they stood;
Nor would I have her if I could,
For there are plenty more as good.”
“the Spasmodic or German School”
“Firebrands and daggers! hope hath fled!
To atoms dash the doubly dead!
My brain is fire – my heart is lead!
Her soul is flint, and what am I?
Scorch’d by her fierce, relentless eye,
Nothingness is my destiny!”
From “Wilhelm Von Schmitz”, chapters 3 and 4
[“What though the world be cross and crooky”]
What though the world be cross and crooky?
Of Life’s fair flowers the fairest bouquet
I plucked, when I chose thee, my Sukie!
Say, could’st thou grasp at nothing greater
Than to be wedded to a waiter?
And didst thou deem thy Schmitz a traitor?
Nay! the fond waiter was rejected,
And thou, alone, with flower-bedecked head,
Sitting, didst sing of one expected.
[10] And while the waiter, crazed and silly,
Dreamed he had won that priceless lily,
At length he came, thy wished-for Willie.
And then thy music took a new key,
For whether Schmitz be boor or duke, he
Is all in all to faithful Sukie!
[“His barque hath perished in the storm”]
His barque hath perished in the storm,
Whirled by its fiery breath
On sunken rocks, his stalwart form
Was doomed to watery death.
[“My Sukie! he hath bought, yea, Muggle’s self”]
My Sukie! he hath bought, yea, Muggle’s self,
Convinced at last of deeds unjust and foul,
The licence of a vacant public-house,
Which, with its chattels, site, and tenement,
He hands us over, – we are licensed here,
Even in this document, to sell to all
Snuff, pepper, vinegar, to sell to all
Ale, porter, spirits, but – observe you well –
“Not to be drunk upon the premises!”
[10] Oh, Sukie! heed it well! in other places,
Even as thou listest, be intoxicate:
Drink without limit whiles thou art abroad,
But never, never, in thy husband’s house!
The Lady of the Ladle
The Youth at Eve had drunk his fill,
Where stands the “Royal” on the Hill,
And long his midday stroll had made,
On the so-called “Marine Parade” –
(Meant, I presume, for seamen brave,
Whose “march is on the mountain wave”;
’Twere just the bathing-place for him
Who stays on land till he can swim –)
Yes he had strayed into the town,
[10] And paced each alley up and down,
Where still, so narrow grew the way,
The very houses seemed to say,
Nodding to friends across the street,
“One struggle more and we shall meet.”
And he had scaled that awful stair
That soars from earth to upper air,
Where rich and poor alike must climb,
And walk the treadmill for a time –
That morning he had dressed with care,
[20] And put pomatum on his hair;
He was, the loungers all agreed,
A very heavy swell indeed:
Jabberwocky and Other Nonsense Page 7
