Complete Works

"Poor Edward knows but how to

spend,

And thrifty Tom to hoard;
Let Thomas be the steward then,
And Edward be the lord;
And as the honest laborer

Is worthy his reward,

"I pray Prince Ned, my second son, And my successor dear, To pay to his intendant

Five hundred pounds a year; And to think of his old father, And live and make good cheer.""

With universal nose.

I could hear the passengers snorting —
I envied their disporting
Vainly I was courting

The pleasure of a doze !

So I lay, and wondered why light
Came not, and watched the twilight,
And the glimmer of the skylight,

That shot across the deck;
And the binnacle pale and steady,
And the dull glimpse of the dead-eye,
And the sparks in fiery eddy

That whirled from the chimney
neck.

Such was old Brentford's honest testa-In our jovial floating prison

ment,

He did devise his moneys for the best, And lies in Brentford church in peaceful rest.

Prince Edward lived, and money made and spent ;

But his good sire was wrong, it is confess'd

To say his sou, young Thomas, never lent.

He did. Young Thomas lent at interest,

And nobly took his twenty-five per

And never a star had risen
There was sleep from fore to mizzen,

The hazy sky to speck.

When A SQUALL, upon a sudden,
Came o'er the waters scudding;
And the clouds began to gather,
And the sea was lashed to lather,
And the lowering thunder grumbled,
And the lightning jumped and tum-
bled,

And the ship, and all the ocean,
Woke up in wild commotion.
Then the wind set up a howling,
And the poodle dog a yowling,
And the cocks began a crowing,
And the old cow raised a lowing,
As she heard the tempest blowing;
And fowls and geese did cackle,
And the cordage and the tackle
Began to shriek and crackle;
And the spray dashed o'er the funnels,
And down the deck in runnels;
And the rushing water soaks all,
From the seamen in the fo'ksal
To the stokers whose black faces
Peer out of their bed-places;
And the captain he was bawling,
And the sailors pulling, hauling,
And the quarter-deck tarpauling
Was shivered in the squalling;
And the passengers awaken,
Most pitifully shaken;
And the steward jumps up, and

tens

For the necessary basins.

Then all the fleas in Jewry
Jumped up and bit like fury;
And the progeny of Jacob
Did on the main-deck wake up
(I wot those greasy Rabbins
Would never pay for cabins);
And each man moaned and jabbered

His filthy Jewish gaberdine,
In woe and lamentation,
And howling consternation.
And the splashing water drenches
Their dirty brats and wenches;
And they crawl from bales and
benches

In a hundred thousand stenches.

This was the White Squall famous,
Which latterly o'ercame us,
And which all will well remember
On the 28th September;
When a Prussian captain of Lancers
(Those tight-laced, whiskered pran-
cers)

Came on the deck astonished,
By that wild squall admonished,
And wondering cried, "Potztausend,
Wie ist der Stürm jetzt brausend?"
has- And looked at Captain Lewis,

Then the Greeks they groaned and quivered,

And they knelt, and moaned, and
shivered,

As the plunging waters met them,
And splashed and overset them ;
And they call in their emergence
Upon countless saints and virgins;
And their marrowbones are bended,
And they think the world is ended.

And the Turkish women for'ard
Were frightened and behorror'd ;
And shrieking and bewildering,
The mothers clutched their children;
The men sung" Allah! Illah!
Mashallah Bismillah!"

As the warring waters doused them
And splashed them and soused them,
And they called upon the Prophet,
And thought but little of it.

Who calmly stood and blew his
Cigar in all the bustle,

And scorned the tempest's tussle,
How he beat the storm to laughter;
And oft we've thought thereafter

With that vain wind could wrestle;
And when a wreck we thought her,
And doomed ourselves to slaughter,
How gayly he fought her,
And through the hubbub brought her,
And as the tempest caught her,
Cried, "GEORGE! SOME
AND-WATER!"

For well he knew his vessel

BRANDY

And when, its force expended,
The harmless storm was ended,
And as the sunrise splendid

Came blushing o'er the sea;
I thought, as day was breaking,
My little girls were waking,
And smiling, and making

A prayer at home for me.

1844.

PEG OF LIMAVADDY.

RIDING from Coleraine

(Famed for lovely Kitty), Came a Cockney bound Unto Derry city; Weary was his soul, Shivering and sad, he Bumped along the road Leads to Limavaddy.

Mountains stretch'd around, Gloomy was their tinting, And the horse's hoofs

Made a dismal clinting; Wind upon the heath Howling was and piping, On the heath and bog, Black with many a snipe in. Mid the bogs of black,

Silver pools were flashing, Crows upon their sides

Picking were and splashing. Cockney on the car

Closer folds his plaidy, Grumbling at the road Leads to Limavaddy.

Through the crashing woods

Autumn brawl'd and bluster'd, Tossing round about

Leaves the hue of mustard; Yonder lay Lough Foyle,

Which a storm was whipping, Covering with mist

Lake, and shores and shipping. Up and down the hill

(Nothing could be bolder), Horse went with a raw Bleeding on his shoulder.

"Where are horses changed?"
Said I to the laddy
Driving on the box:
"Sir, at Limavaddy."

Limavaddy inn's

But a humble bait-house, Where you may procure Whiskey and potatoes; Landlord at the door

Gives a smiling welcome To the shivering wights Who to his hotel come.

Landlady within

Sits and knits a stocking,
With a wary foot

Baby's cradle rocking.
To the chimney nook
Having found admittance,
There I watch a pup

Playing with two kittens;
(Playing round the fire,
Which of blazing turf is,
Roaring to the pot

Which bubbles with the murphies. ) And the cradled babe

Fond the mother nursed it, Singing it a song

As she twists the worsted! Up and down the stair

Two more young ones patter (Twins were never seen

Dirtier nor fatter).
Both have mottled legs,
Both have snubby noses,
Both have Here the host
Kindly interposes:
"Sure you must be froze

With the sleet and hail, sir:
So will you have some punch,
Or will you have some ale, sir?"

Presently a maid

Enters with the liquor (Half a pint of ale

Frothing in a beaker). Gads! I didn't know

What my beating heart meant : Hebe's self I thought

Entered the apartment.
As she came she smiled,
And the smile bewitching,
On my word and honor,
Lighted all the kitchen!
With a curtsy neat

Greeting the new comer,
Lovely, smiling Peg

Offers me the rummer; But my trembling hand Up the beaker tilted, And the glass of ale Every drop I spilt it: Spilt it every drop

(Dames, who read my volumes, Pardon such a word)

On my what-d'ye-call-'ems!

Such a silver peal!

In the meadows listening,
You who've heard the bells
Ringing to a christening;
You who ever heard
Caradori pretty,
Smiling like an angel,

Singing "Giovinetti;'
Fancy Peggy's laugh,

Sweet, and clear, and cheerful, At my pantaloons

With half a pint of beer full !

When the laugh was done,

Peg, the pretty hussy,
Moved about the room
Wonderfully busy ;
Now she looks to see
If the kettle keep hot ;
Now she rubs the spoons,
Now she cleans the teapot;
Now she sets the cups
Trimly and secure :
Now she scours a pot,

And so it was I drew her.

Thus it was I drew her
Scouring of a kettle,
(Faith her blushing cheeks
Redden'd on the metal !)
Ah but 'tis in vain

That I try to sketch it;
The pot perhaps is like,

But Peggy's face is wretched.

No! the best of lead

And of indian-rubber

Never could depict

That sweet kettle-scrubber!

See her as she moves

Scarce the ground she touches,

A quiet green but few days since,
With cattle browsing in the shade :
And here are lines of bright arcade
In order raised!

A palace as for fairy Prince,
A rare pavilion, such as man
Saw never since mankind began,
And built and glazed!

A peaceful place it was but now,
And lo! within its shining streets
A multitude of nations meets;

A countless throug

I see beneath the crystal bow,
And Gaul and German, Russ and
Turk,

Each with his native handiwork

And busy tongue.

Pass underneath the shining arch,
'Neath which the leafy elms are green;
Ascend unto your throne, O Queen !
And take your state.

Behold her in her Royal place;
A gentle lady; and the hand
That sways the sceptre of this land,
How frail and weak!
Soft is the voice, and fair the face:
She breathes amen to prayer and
hymn;

No wonder that her eyes are dim,
And pale her cheek.

This moment round her empire's shores The winds of Austral winter sweep, And thousands lie in midnight sleep At rest to-day.

Oh! awful is that crown of yours, Queen of innumerable realms Sitting beneath the budding elms Of English May!

A wondrous sceptre 'tis to bear: Strange mystery of God which set Upon her brow yon coronet,

The foremost crown Of all the world, on one so fair! That chose her to it from her birth, And bade the sons of all the earth To her bow down.

The representatives of man

Here from the far Antipodes,
And from the subject Indian seas,
In Congress meet ;

From Afric and from Hindustan,
From Western continent and isle,
The envoys of her empire pile
Gifts at her feet;

Our brethren cross the Atlantic tides, Loading the gallant decks which

once

Roared a defiance to our guns, With peaceful store; Symbol of peace, their vessel rides! O'er English waves float Star and Stripe, And firm their friendly anchors gripe The father shore !

*The U. S. frigate "St. Lawrence."

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Complete Works, Band 10