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Worse than Cerberus or Geryon, Or, who first loved a cloud, Ixion.

Bacchus we know, and we allow His tipsy rites. But what art thou, That but by reflex can'st shew What his deity can do

As the false Egyptian spell
Aped the true Hebrew miracle?
Some few vapors thou may'st raise,
The weak brain may serve to amaze;
But to the reins and nobler heart
Can'st nor life nor heat impart.

Brother of Bacchus, later born! The old world was sure forlorn, Wanting thee, that aidest more The god's victories than, before, All his panthers, and the brawls Of his piping Bacchanals. These, as stale, we disallow, Or judge of thee meant: only thou His true Indian conquest art; And, for ivy round his dart, The reformed god now weaves A finer thyrsus of thy leaves.

Scent to match thy rich perfume Chemic art did ne'er presume— Through her quaint alembic strain, None so sovereign to the brain. Nature, that did in thee excel, Framed again no second smell. Roses, violets, but toys For the smaller sort of boys, Or for greener damsels meant; Thou art the only manly scent.

Stinkingest of the stinking kind! Filth of the mouth and fog of the mind! Africa, that brags her foyson, Breeds no such prodigious poison! Henbane, nightshade, both together, Hemlock, aconite

Nay, rather,

Plant divine, of rarest virtue!

Blisters on the tongue would hurt you'

'Twas but in a sort I blamed thee;
None e'er prospered who defamed thee;
Irony all, and feigned abuse,
Such as perplext lovers use
At a need, when, in despair
To paint forth their fairest fair,
Or in part but to express
That exceeding comeliness
Which their fancies doth so strike,
They borrow language of dislike ;
And, instead of dearest Miss,
Jewel, honey, sweetheart, bliss,
And those forms of old admiring,
Call her cockatrice and siren,
Basilisk, and all that's evil,
Witch, hyena, mermaid, devil,
Ethiop, wench, and blackamoor,
Monkey, ape, and twenty more—
Friendly trait'ress, loving foe-
Not that she is truly so,
But no other way they know,
A contentment to express
Borders so upon excess

That they do not rightly wot
Whether it be from pain or not.

Or, as men, constrained to part With what's nearest to their heart, While their sorrow 's at the height Lose discrimination quite, And their hasty wrath let fall, To appease their frantic gall, On the darling thing, whatever, Whence they feel it death to sever, Though it be, as they, perforce, Guiltless of the sad divorce.

For I must (nor let it grieve thee, Friendliest of plants, that I must) leave thee.

For thy sake, tobacco, I

Would do anything but die,
And but seek to extend my days
Long enough to sing thy praise.
But, as she, who once hath been
A king's consort, is a queen
Ever after, nor will hate

Any tittle of her state

FAITHLESS NELLIE GRAY.

Though a widow, or divorced-
So I, from thy converse forced,
The old name and style retain,
A right Catherine of Spain;
And a seat, too, 'mongst the joys
Of the blest tobacco boys;
Where though I, by sour physician,
Am debarred the full fruition
Of thy favors, I may catch

Some collateral sweets, and snatch
Sidelong odors, that give life

Like glances from a neighbor's wife;
And still live in the by-places
And the suburbs of thy graces;
And in thy borders take delight,
An unconquered Canaanite.

CHARLES LAMB.

FAITHLESS NELLY GRAY.

A PATHETIO BALLAD.

BEN BATTLE was a soldier bold,

And used to war's alarms; But a cannon-ball took off his legs, So he laid down his arms.

Now as they bore him off the field,
Said he, "Let others shoot;
For here I leave my second leg,
And the Forty-second foot."

The army-surgeons made him limbs:
Said he, "They're only pegs;
But there's as wooden members quite,
As represent my legs."

Now Ben he loved a pretty maid—
Her name was Nelly Gray;
So he went to pay her his devours,
When he devoured his pay.

But when he called on Nelly Gray,
She made him quite a scoff;
And when she saw his wooden legs,
Began to take them off.

"O, Nelly Gray! O, Nelly Gray!

Is this your love so warm? The love that loves a scarlet coat Should be more uniform."

Said she, "I loved a soldier once, For he was blithe and brave; But I will never have a man With both legs in the grave.

"Before you had those timber toes Your love I did allow;

But then, you know, you stand upon Another footing now."

"O, Nelly Gray! O, Nelly Gray!

For all your jeering speeches,

At duty's call I left my legs
In Badajos's breaches."

429

"Why then," said she, "you 've lost tne feet

Of legs in war's alarms,

And now you cannot wear your shoes
Upon your feats of arms."

"O, false and fickle Nelly Gray!
I know why you refuse:
Though I've no feet, some other man
Is standing in my shoes.

"I wish I ne'er had seen your face;
But, now, a long farewell!
For you will be my death;-alas!
You will not be my Nell!"

Now when he went from Nelly Gray
His heart so heavy got,
And life was such a burden grown.
It made him take a knot.

So round his melancholy neck
A rope he did entwine,
And, for his second time in life,
Enlisted in the line.

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THE WHITE SQUALL.

THE LADY AT SEA.

CABLES entangling her;
Ship-spars for mangling her;
Ropes sure of strangling her;
Blocks over-dangling her;
Tiller to batter her;
Topmast to shatter her;
Tobacco to spatter her;
Boreas blustering;

Boatswain quite flustering;
Thunder-clouds mustering,
To blast her with sulphur-
If the deep don't ingulph her;
Sometimes fear 's scrutiny
Pries out a mutiny,
Sniff's conflagration,
Or hints at starvation;
All the sea dangers,
Buccaneers, rangers,
Pirates, and Sallee-men,
Algerine galleymen,
Tornadoes and typhons,
And horrible syphons,
And submarine travels
Thro' roaring sea-navels;
Every thing wrong enough-
Long-boat not long enough;
Vessel not strong enough;
Pitch marring frippery;
The deck very slippery;
And the cabin-built sloping;
The captain a-toping;
And the mate a blasphemer,
That names his Redeemer-
With inward uneasiness;

The cook known by greasiness;
The victuals beslubbered;
Her bed-in a cupboard;
Things of strange christening,
Snatched in her listening;
Blue lights and red lights,
And mention of dead lights;
And shrouds made a theme of-
Things horrid to dream of;
And buoys in the water;
To fear all exhort her.
Her friend no Leander-
Herself no sea gander:

And ne'er a cork jacket
On board of the packet;
The breeze still a-stiffening;
The trumpet quite deafening;
Thoughts of repentance,

And doomsday, and sentence;
Every thing sinister-
Not a church minister;
Pilot a blunderer;
Coral reefs under her,
Ready to sunder her:
Trunks tipsy-topsy;
The ship in a dropsy;
Waves oversurging her;
Sirens a-dirging her;
Sharks all expecting her;
Sword-fish dissecting her;
Crabs with their hand-vices
Punishing land vices;
Sea-dogs and unicorns,
Things with no puny horns;
Mermen carnivorous-
"Good Lord deliver us!"

431

THOMAS HOOD

THE WHITE SQUALL.

ON deck, beneath the awning,
I dozing lay and yawning;
It was the gray of dawning,

Ere yet the sun arose;
And above the funnel's roaring,
And the fitful wind's deploring,

I heard the cabin snoring

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. In our jovial floating prison

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

The hazy sky to speck. Strange company we harbored: We'd a hundred Jews to larboard, Unwashed, uncombed, unbarbered-Jews black, and brown, and gray.

With terror it would seize ye,
And make your souls uneasy,
To see those Rabbis greasy,

Who did nought but scratch and pray.
Their dirty children puking-
Their dirty saucepans cooking-
Their dirty fingers hooking

Their swarming fleas away.

To starboard Turks and Greeks were-
Whiskered and brown their cheeks were-
Enormous wide their breeks were-
Their pipes did puff away;
Each on his mat allotted

In silence smoked and squatted,
Whilst round their children trotted

In pretty, pleasant play.
He can't but smile who traces
The smiles on those brown faces,
And the pretty, prattling graces
Of those small heathens gay.

And so the hours kept tollingAnd through the ocean rolling Went the brave Iberia bowling, Before the break of day

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 tumbled;
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 hastens
For the necessary basins.

Then the Greeks they groaned and quiv. ered,

And they knelt, and moaned, and shivered.
As the plunging waters met them,
And splashed and overset them;
And they called in their emergence
Upon countless saints and virgins;
And their marrow bones are bended,
And they think the world is ended.
And the Turkish women for'ard
Were frightened and behorrored,
And, shrieking and bewildering,
The mothers clutched their children;
The men sang "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.

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 in
His filthy Jewish gabardine,

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,

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