The Humorous Poetry of the English Language; from Chaucer to Saxe Part 21

For, as if the Saint's beard the rash challenge had heard Which she utter'd, of what was beneath her forgetful Each particular hair stood on end in the chair, Like a porcupine's quills when the animal's fretful,

That stout maroon leather, they pierced altogether, Like tenter-hooks holding when clench'd from within, And the maids cried--"Good gracious! how very tenacious!"

--They as well might endeavor to pull off her skin!--

She shriek'd with the pain, but all efforts were vain; In vain did they strain every sinew and muscle,-- The cus.h.i.+on stuck fast!--From that hour to her last She could never get rid of that comfortless "Bustle"!

And e'en as Macbeth, when devising the death Of his King, heard "the very stones prate of his whereabouts;"

So this shocking bad wife heard a voice all her life Crying "Murder!" resound from the cus.h.i.+on,--or thereabouts.

With regard to the Clerk, we are left in the dark As to what his fate was; but I can not imagine he Got off scot-free, though unnoticed it be Both by Ribadaneira and Jacques de Voragine:

For cut-throats, we're sure, can be never secure, And "History's Muse" still to prove it her pen holds, As you'll see, if you'll look in a rather scarce book, "G.o.d's Revenge against Murder," by one Mr. Reynolds.

MORAL.

Now, you grave married Pilgrims, who wander away, Like Ulysses of old (vide Homer and Naso), Don't lengthen your stay to three years and a day, And when you are coming home, just write and say so!

And you, learned Clerks, who're not given to roam, Stick close to your books, nor lose sight of decorum, Don't visit a house when the master's from home!

Shun drinking,--and study the "Vilce Sanctorum!"

Above all, you gay ladies, who fancy neglect In your spouses, allow not your patience to fail; But remember Gengulphus's wife!--and reflect On the moral enforced by her terrible tale!

SIR RUPERT THE FEARLESS.

A LEGEND OF GERMANY.

R. HARRIS BARHAM

Sir Rupert the Fearless, a gallant young knight, Was equally ready to tipple or fight, Crack a crown, or a bottle, Cut sirloin, or throttle; In brief, or as Hume says, "to sum up the tottle,"

Unstain'd by dishonor, unsullied by fear, All his neighbors p.r.o.nounced him a preux chevalier.

Despite these perfections, corporeal and mental, He had one slight defect, viz., a rather lean rental; Besides, 'tis own'd there are spots in the sun, So it must be confess'd that Sir Rupert had one; Being rather unthinking, He'd scarce sleep a wink in A night, but addict himself sadly to drinking; And what moralists say, Is as naughty--to play, To Rouge et Noir, Hazard, Short Whist, Ecarte; Till these, and a few less defensible fancies Brought the Knight to the end of his slender finances.

When at length through his boozing, And tenants refusing Their rents, swearing "tunes were so bad they were losing,"

His steward said, "O, sir, It's some time ago, sir, Since aught through my hands reach'd the baker or grocer, And the tradesmen in general are grown great complainers."

Sir Rupert the brave thus address'd his retainers:

"My friends, since the stock Of my father's old hock Is out, with the Kurchwa.s.ser, Barsae, Moselle, And we're fairly reduced to the pump and the well, I presume to suggest, We shall all find it best For each to shake hands with his friends ere he goes, Mount his horse, if he has one, and--follow his nose; As to me, I opine, Left sans money or wine, My best way is to throw myself into the Rhine, Where pitying trav'lers may sigh, as they cross over, Though he lived a roue, yet he died a philosopher."

The Knight, having bow'd out his friends thus politely.

Got into his skiff, the full moon s.h.i.+ning brightly, By the light of whose beam, He soon spied on the stream A dame, whose complexion was fair as new cream, Pretty pink silken hose Cover'd ankles and toes, In other respects she was scanty of clothes; For, so says tradition, both written and oral, Her ONE garment was loop'd up with bunches of coral.

Full sweetly she sang to a sparkling guitar, With silver chords stretch'd over Derbys.h.i.+re spar, And she smiled on the Knight, Who, amazed at the sight, Soon found his astonishment merged in delight; But the stream by degrees Now rose up to her knees, Till at length it invaded her very chemise, While the heavenly strain, as the wave seem'd to swallow her And slowly she sank, sounded fainter and hollower; --Jumping up in his boat And discarding his coat, "Here goes," cried Sir Rupert, "by jingo I'll follow her!"

Then into the water he plunged with a souse That was heard quite distinctly by those in the house.

Down, down, forty fathom and more from the brink, Sir Rupert the Fearless continues to sink, And, as downward he goes, Still the cold water flows Through his ears, and his eyes, and his mouth, and his nose Till the rum and the brandy he'd swallow'd since lunch Wanted nothing but lemon to fill him with punch; Some minutes elapsed since he enter'd the flood, Ere his heels touch'd the bottom, and stuck in the mud.

But oh! what a sight Met the eyes of the Knight, When he stood in the depth of the stream bolt upright!-- A grand stalact.i.te hall, Like the cave of Fingal, Rose above and about him;--great fishes and small Came thronging around him, regardless of danger, And seem'd all agog for a peep at the stranger, Their figures and forms to describe, language fails-- They'd such very odd heads, and such very odd tails; Of their genus or species a sample to gain, You would ransack all Hungerford market in vain; E'en the famed Mr. Myers, Would scarcely find buyers, Though hundreds of pa.s.sengers doubtless would stop To stare, were such monsters exposed in his shop.

But little reck'd Rupert these queer-looking brutes, Or the efts and the newts That crawled up his boots, For a sight, beyond any of which I've made mention, In a moment completely absorb'd his attention.

A huge crystal bath, which, with water far clearer Than George Robins' filters, or Thorpe's (which are dearer), Have ever distill'd, To the summit was fill'd, Lay stretch'd out before him--and every nerve thrill'd As scores of young women Were diving and swimming, Till the vision a perfect quandary put him in;-- All slightly accoutred in gauzes and lawns, They came floating about him like so many prawns.

Sir Rupert, who (barring the few peccadilloes Alluded to), ere he lept into the billows Possess'd irreproachable morals, began To feel rather queer, as a modest young man; When forth stepp'd a dame, whom he recognized soon As the one he had seen by the light of the moon, And lisp'd, while a soft smile attended each sentence, "Sir Rupert, I'm happy to make your acquaintance; My name is Lurline, And the ladies you've seen, All do me the honor to call me their Queen; I'm delighted to see you, sir, down in the Rhine here And hope you can make it convenient to dine here."

The Knight blush'd, and bow'd, As he ogled the crowd Of subaqueous beauties, then answer'd aloud; "Ma'am, you do me much honor--I can not express The delight I shall feel--if you'll pardon my dress-- May I venture to say, when a gentleman jumps In the river at midnight for want of the 'dumps,'

He rarely puts on his knee-breeches and pumps; If I could but have guess'd--what I sensibly feel-- Your politeness--I'd not have come en dishabille, But have put on my SILK tights in lieu of my STEEL."

Quoth the lady, "Dear sir, no apologies, pray, You will take our 'pot-luck' in the family way; We can give you a dish Of some decentish fish, And our water's thought fairish; but here in the Rhine, I can't say we pique ourselves much on our wine."

The Knight made a bow more profound than before, When a Dory-faced page oped the dining-room door, And said, bending his knee, "Madame, on a servi!"

Rupert tender'd his arm, led Lurline to her place, And a fat little Mer-man stood up and said grace,

What boots it to tell of the viands, or how she Apologized much for their plain water-souchy, Want of Harvey's, and Cross's, And Burgess's sauces?

Or how Rupert, on his side, protested, by Jove, he Preferr'd his fish plain, without soy or anchovy.

Suffice it the meal Boasted trout, perch, and eel, Besides some remarkably fine salmon peel, The Knight, sooth to say, thought much less of the fishes Than what they were served on, the ma.s.sive gold dishes; While his eye, as it glanced now and then on the girls, Was caught by their persons much less than their pearls, And a thought came across him and caused him to muse, "If I could but get hold Of some of that gold, I might manage to pay off my rascally Jews!"

When dinner was done, at a sign to the la.s.ses, The table was clear'd, and they put on fresh gla.s.ses; Then the lady addrest Her redoubtable guest Much as Dido, of old, did the pious Eneas, "Dear sir, what induced you to come down and see us?"-- Rupert gave her a glance most bewitchingly tender, Loll'd back in his chair, put his toes on the fender, And told her outright How that he, a young Knight, Had never been last at a feast or a fight; But that keeping good cheer Every day in the year, And drinking neat wines all the same as small-beer, Had exhausted his rent, And, his money all spent, How he borrow'd large sums at two hundred per cent.; How they follow'd--and then, The once civilest of men, Messrs. Howard and Gibbs, made him bitterly rue it he'd Ever raised money by way of annuity; And, his mortgages being about to foreclose, How he jumped into the river to finish his woes!

Lurline was affected, and own'd, with a tear, That a story so mournful had ne'er met her ear: Rupert, hearing her sigh, Look'd uncommonly sly, And said, with some emphasis, "Ah! miss, had I A few pounds of those metals You waste here on kettles, Then, Lord once again Of my s.p.a.cious domain, A free Count of the Empire once more I might reign, With Lurline at my side, My adorable bride (For the parson should come, and the knot should be tied); No couple so happy on earth should be seen As Sir Rupert the brave and his charming Lurline; Not that money's my object--No, hang it! I scorn it-- And as for my rank--but that YOU'D so adorn it-- I'd abandon it all To remain your true thrall, And, instead of 'the GREAT,' be call'd 'Rupert the SMALL,'

--To gain but your smiles, were I Sardanapalus, I'd descend from my throne, and be boots at an alehouse."

Lurline hung her head Turn'd pale, and then red, Growing faint at this sudden proposal to wed, As though his abruptness, in "popping the question"

So soon after dinner, disturb'd her digestion.

Then, averting her eye, With a lover-like sigh, "You are welcome," she murmur'd in tones most bewitching, "To every utensil I have in my kitchen!"

Upstarted the Knight, Half mad with delight, Round her finely-form'd waist He immediately placed One arm, which the lady most closely embraced, Of her lily-white fingers the other made capture, And he press'd his adored to his bosom with rapture, "And, oh!" he exclaim'd, "let them go catch my skiff, I'll be home in a twinkling and back in a jiffy, Nor one moment procrastinate longer my journey Than to put up the bans and kick out the attorney."

One kiss to her lip, and one squeeze to her hand And Sir Rupert already was half-way to land, For a sour-visaged Triton, With features would frighten Old Nick, caught him up in one hand, though no light one, Sprang up through the waves, popp'd him into his funny, Which some others already had half-fill'd with money; In fact, 'twas so heavily laden with ore And pearls, 'twas a mercy he got it to sh.o.r.e; But Sir Rupert was strong, And while pulling along, Still he heard, faintly sounding, the water-nymphs' song.

LAY OF THE NAIADS.

"Away! away! to the mountain's brow, Where the castle is darkly frowning; And the va.s.sals, all in goodly row, Weep for their lord a-drowning!

Away! away! to the steward's room, Where law with its wig and robe is; Throw us out John Doe and Richard Roe, And sweetly we'll tidde their tobies!"

The unearthly voices scarce had ceased their yelling, When Rupert reach'd his old baronial dwelling.

What rejoicing was there!

How the va.s.sals did stare!

The old housekeeper put a clean s.h.i.+rt down to air, For she saw by her lamp That her master's was damp, And she fear'd he'd catch cold, and lumbago, and cramp; But, scorning what she did, The Knight never heeded Wet jacket, or trousers, or thought of repining, Since their pockets had got such a delicate lining.

But, oh! what dismay Fill'd the tribe of Ca Sa, When they found he'd the cash, and intended to pay!

Away went "cognovits," "bills," "bonds," and "escheats,"

Rupert cleared off old scores, and took proper receipts.

Now no more he sends out, For pots of brown stout, Or schnapps, but resolves to do henceforth without, Abjure from this hour all excess and ebriety, Enroll himself one of a Temp'rance Society, All riot eschew, Begin life anew, And new-cus.h.i.+on and ha.s.sock the family pew!

Nay, to strengthen him more in this new mode of life He boldly determined to take him a wife.

Now, many would think that the Knight, from a nice sense Of honor, should put Lurline's name in the license, And that, for a man of his breeding and quality, To break faith and troth, Confirm'd by an oath, Is not quite consistent with rigid morality; But whether the nymph was forgot, or he thought her From her essence scarce wife, but at best wife-and-water And declined as unsuited, A bride so diluted-- Be this as it may, He, I'm sorry to say For, all things consider'd, I own 'twas a rum thing, Made proposals in form to Miss Una Von--something (Her name has escaped me), sole heiress, and niece To a highly respectable Justice of Peace.

"Thrice happy's the wooing That's not long a-doing!"