WILL WATERPROOF'S LYRICAL MONOLOGUE, MADE AT THE COCK. O PLUMP head-waiter at The Cock, How goes the time? 'Tis five o'clock. But let it not be such as that You set before chance-comers, But such whose father-grape grew fat On Lusitanian summers. No vain libation to the Muse, Nor add and alter, many times, Till all be ripe and rotten. I pledge her, and she comes and dips Her laurel in the wine, And lays it thrice upon my lips, These favour'd lips of mine; I pledge her silent at the board; Old wishes, ghosts of broken plans, And phantom hopes assemble; And that child's heart within the man's Begins to move and tremble. Thro' many an hour of summer suns, By many pleasant ways, Against its fountain upward runs The current of my days: I kiss the lips I once have kiss'd ; WILL WATERPROOF'S LYRICAL MONOLOGUE. A private life was all his joy, Till in a court he saw A something-pottle-bodied boy That knuckled at the taw: He stoop'd and clutch'd him, fair and good, Flew over roof and casement: His brothers of the weather stood Stock-still for sheer amazement. But he, by farmstead, thorpe and spire, Came crowing over Thames. 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 Is it the weight of that half-crown, Half fearful that, with self at strife, Lest of the fulness of my life I leave an empty flask : But, while I plan and plan, my hair So fares it since the years began, The truth, that flies the flowing can, And others' follies teach us not, Nor much their wisdom teaches; And most, of sterling worth, is what Our own experience preaches. Ah, let the rusty theme alone! We know not what we know. But for my pleasant hour, 'tis gone; 'Tis gone, and let it go. 'Tis gone a thousand such have slipt Away from my embraces, And fall'n into the dusty crypt Of darken'd forms and faces. Go, therefore, thou! thy betters went The tavern-hours of mighty wits- 113 Hours, when the Poet's words and looks Had yet their native glow : Nor yet the fear of little books Had made him talk for show; 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, I too must part: I hold thee dear For this good pint of port. For this, thou shalt from all things suck But thou wilt never move from hence, We fret, we fume, would shift our skins, To come and go, and come again, Live long, ere from thy topmost head The thick-set hazel dies; Long, ere the hateful crow shall tread Live long, nor feel in head or chest Till mellow Death, like some late guest, But when he calls, and thou shalt cease Of life, shalt earn no more; LADY CLARE. IT was the time when lilies blow, And clouds are highest up in air, Lord Ronald brought a lily-white doe To give his cousin, Lady Clare. 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. 'As God's above,' said Alice the nurse, 'I speak the truth: you are my child. 'The old Earl's daughter died at my breast; I speak the truth, as I live by bread! I buried her like my own sweet child, And put my child in her stead.' "Falsely, falsely have ye done, O mother,' she said, "if this be true, To keep the best man under the sun So many years from his due.' 'Nay now, my child,' said Alice the nurse, 'But keep the secret for your life, And all you have will be Lord Ronald's, When you are man and wife.' 'If I'm a beggar born,' she said, 'I will speak out, for I dare not lie. Pull off, pull off, the brooch of gold, And fling the diamond necklace by.' 'Nay now, my child,' said Alice the nurse, 'But keep the secret all ye can.' She said, 'Not so: but I will know If there be any faith in man.' 'Nay now, what faith?' said Alice the nurse, 'The man will cleave unto his right.' 'And he shall have it,' the lady replied, 'Tho' I should die to-night.' 'Yet give one kiss to your mother dear! Alas, my child, I sinn'd for thee.' 'O mother, mother, mother,' she said, 'So strange it seems to me. 'Yet here's a kiss for my mother dear, My mother dear, if this be so, And lay your hand upon my head, And bless me, mother, ere I go.' She clad herself in a russet gown, She was no longer Lady Clare : She went by dale, and she went by down, With a single rose in her hair. The lily-white doe Lord Ronald had brought Leapt up from where she lay, Dropt her head in the maiden's hand, And follow'd her all the way. Down stept Lord Ronald from his tower: 'O Lady Clare, you shame your worth! Why come you drest like a village maid, That are the flower of the earth?' 'If I come drest like a village maid, I am but as my fortunes are: I am a beggar born,' she said, 'And not the Lady Clare.' 'Play me no tricks,' said Lord Ronald, 'For I am yours in word and in deed. Play me no tricks,' said Lord Ronald, 'Your riddle is hard to read.' O and proudly stood she up! Her heart within her did not fail : She look'd into Lord Ronald's eyes, And told him all her nurse's tale. He laugh'd a laugh of merry scorn: He turn'd and kiss'd her where she stood: 'If you are not the heiress born, And I,' said he, 'the next in blood 'If you are not the heiress born, And I,' said he, 'the lawful heir, We two will wed to-morrow morn, And you shall still be Lady Clare.' THE CAPTAIN. A LEGEND OF THE NAVY. HE that only rules by terror Brave the Captain was: the seamen Gallant sons of English freemen, Sailors bold and true. But they hated his oppression, Wheresoe'er he came. So they past by capes and islands, Far within the South. On a day when they were going In the north, her canvas flowing, Then the Captain's colour heighten'd, But a cloudy gladness lighten'd 'Chase,' he said: the ship flew forward, And the wind did blow; Stately, lightly, went she Norward, Then they look'd at him they hated, Had what they desired : Mute with folded arms they waited— But they heard the foeman's thunder All the air was torn in sunder, |