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Theodore Martin.

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University of California • Berkeley

Fran the bDok collection of

BERIK^MD H. BRONSON

bequeathed by him
or donated by his wife

MILDRED S. BRONSON




CONSTlTUn O NAL
CLUB : LIBRARY.




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A. Crowquill, Del,



J. lee, Sc













CROWQUiLLlsCfCK



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EDITED BY



— " - " ■'■ n. -i.i. - .i . j r /



A NEW EDITION, WITH SEVERAL NEW BALLADS.



[LLUSTRATED BY

ALFKED CROWQUILL, EICHARD DOYLE
AND JOHN LEECH.



Wm. S. OER, and CO., AMEN CORNER,

PATEENOSTER ROW.



CnnttntH.



Ipflttisli %aMs.



PAGE

THE BROKEN PITCHER 3

DON FERNANDO GOMERSALEZ : from the Spanish—

OF Astley's ^

THE COURTSHIP OF OUR CID 20



w

W



THE FIGHT WITH THE SNAPPING TURTLE, OR THE
AMERICAN ST. GEORGE :—

Fytte First 29

Fytte Second 33

THE LAY OF MR. COLT : -

Streak the First 38

Streak the Second 40

THE DEATH OF JABEZ DOLLAR . . . . • 45

THE ALABAMA DUEL 50

THE AMERICAN'S APOSTROPHE TO BOZ ... 55



CONTEJ^TS.



f



4



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§



BisrElliiiiBntts foallnk.



THE STUDENT OF JENA ....... 63

THE LAY OF THE LEVITE . . . . . . * 68

BURSCH GROGGENBURG 70

NIGHT AND MORNING 74

THE BITER BIT . 76

THE CONVICT AND THE AUSTRALIAN LADY . . 79
THE DOLEFUL LAY OF THE HONOURABLE I. O.

UWINS .82

THE KNYGHTE AND THE TAYLZEOUR'S DAUGHTER 88

THE MIDNIGHT VISIT , 94

THE LAY OF THE LOVELORN 99

MY WIFE'S COUSIN 109

THE QUEEN IN FRANCE: an ancient Scottish
Ballad :—

Part 1 113

Part II 119

THE MASSACRE OF THE MACPHERSON : from the

Gaelic 125

THE YOUNG STOCKBROKER'S BRIDE .... 129
THE LAUREATES' TOURNEY :—

Fytte the First 133

Fytte the Second 138

THE ROYAL BANQUET 142

THE BARD OF ERIN'S LAMENT 147

THE LAUREATE 149

A MIDNIGHT MEDITATION 153

MONTGOMERY : a Poem . . . . . . .157

THE DEATH OF SPACE . . . . . . .160



M




MISCELLANEOUS BALLADS (continued) :-

PAGE

LITTLE JOHN AND THE RED FRIAR: a Lay of
Sherwood:—

Fytte the First 162

Fytte the Second 168

THE RHYME OF SIR LAUNCELOT BOGLE . . .176
THE LAY OF THE LOVER'S FRIEND . . . .190

FRANCESCA DA RIMINI 194

THE CADI'S DAUGHTER : a Legend of the Bosphorus . 198

EASTERN SERENADE 202

THE DEATH OF DUVAL 205

THE DIRGE OF THE DRINKER 210

DAME FREDEGONDE 213

THE DEATH OF ISHMAEL 218

PARR'S LIFE PILLS 220

TARQUIN AND THE AUGUR 222

LA MORT D' ARTHUR 224

JUPITER AND THE INDIAN ALE 225

THE LAY OF THE DOUDNEY BROTHERS . . .227

PARIS AND HELEN 230

SONG OF THE ENNUYE 233

CAROLINE 236

TO A FORGET-ME-NOT 239

THE MISHAP 241

COMFORT IN AFFLICTION 244

THE INVOCATION 246

THE HUSBAND'S PETITION 249

SONNET TO BRITAIN .253








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Mr\ ii^nsiM phlir, if pit list tint, tai},
CnmB, fnr pit tonm m» ^ am ^t mlm siiiig
dDf 3fiistBr Cnlt, u^ % m \t mtin Ixmtl
U WiWiimV tliB milii auii mnuii'niiis snug.



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innr BnriiBiiiffrtti, tattling tor \\^t \mm\i\ mu%
%^n tn tljB tost tjiB trate /it|taU ;
innr i. f . Biliis tor Ijis rnetrii's gnuii,
%n uwfkit Ml kU tanriB-kute& nt pniitt,
f nnk toiigmgs in ttr^ ^nniiping tortb's nrnmli.
CnniB, listen tn mq lags, nn& pn hIieII jiBnr
f llB mingbJi mnsir nf nil mntorn terk
jFtonting nlnft in snrfi pBrnlinr strnins,
Ss strikB tljmMlnBS niittj Bnng m\ mm ;
jFnr gnn '' taigjit-'linrpi'' f Bnnpnn sljall sing ;
31Iaranlai5 rljant a mnrB ttian Enman laij;
M Inter Igttnn, Itjttnn Inlnr^r m\,
tnsBBn amiirsta mrtayligsir fng,
innrl mBlanrjinlij jinmagB tn tljB man :
jFnr pn nntB mnrB 3Hnntgnmrrg sfiall ranB
%u all tiis rapt rahiMtg nf rhgmB ;
^ankBBn'Ji Cnrkaign^ sjiallpiiB Ijis pni[ nntB,
M nnr f^nnng feglanJi's p^nng trnmpt lilnm.



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It was a Moorish maiden was sitting by a well,

And what the maiden thought of, I cannot, cannot tell,

When by there rode a valiant knight from the town of

Oviedo —
Alphonzo Guzman was he hight, the Count of Desparedo.

'^ Oh, maiden, Moorish maiden ? why sitt'st thou by the

spring ?
Say, dost thou seek a lover, or any other thing ?



?)|^



1'

1



THE BOOK OP EALLADS.

Why gazest thou upon me, with eyes so large and wide,
And wherefore doth the pitcher lie broken by thy side ?*'

'^ I do not seek a lover, thou Christian knight so gay,
Eecause an article like that hath never come my way ;
And why I gaze upon you, I cannot, cannot tell.
Except that in your iron hose you look uncommon swell.



'n



" My pitcher it is broken, and this the reason is, —
A shepherd came behind me, and tried to snatch a kiss ;
I would not stand his nonsense, so ne'er a word I spoke.
But scored him on the costard, and so the jug was broke.

*^My uncle, the Alcayde, he waits for me at home.
And will not take his tumbler until Zorayda come.
I cannot bring him water — the pitcher is in pieces —
And so I 'm sure to catch it, 'cos he wallops all his nieces."

'' Oh, maiden, Moorish maiden ! wilt thou be ruled by me !
So wipe thine eyes and rosy lips, and give me kisses three ;
And I '11 give thee my helmet, thou kind and courteous lady.
To carry home the water to thy uncle, the Alcayde."

He lighted down from off his steed — he tied him to a tree —
He bowed him to the maiden, and took his kisses three :
'^ To wrong thee, sweet Zorayda, I swear would be a sin !"
He knelt him at the fountain, and he dipped his helmet in.



II''







THE BOOK OP BALLADS.

Up rose the Moorish maiden — ^behind the knight she steals,
And caught Alphonzo Guzman up tightly by the heels ;
She tipped him in, and held him down beneath the bubbling

water, —
'^ Kow, take thou that for venturing to kiss Al Hamet's

daughter !"






A Christian maid is weeping in the town of Oviedo ;
She waits the coming of her love, the Count of Desparedo.
I pray you all in charity, that you will never tell.
How he met the Moorish maiden beside the lonely well.




- ...-^-C-i^^^^^



n



THE BOOK OF BALLADS.



u




Don Eeenando Gomeesalez ! basely have
they borne thee down ;

Paces ten behind thy charger is thy
glorions body thrown ;

Tetters have they bound upon thee — iron
fetters fast and sure ;

Don Fernando Gomersalez, thou art cap-
tive to the Moor !



mr



THE BOOK OF BALLADS.



Long within a sable dungeon pined that brave and noble
7| knight,

jj ^ For the Saracenic warriors well they knew and feared his
Ifi might ;

Long he lay and long he languished on his dripping bed of

stone,
Till the cankered iron fetters ate their way into his bone.



On the twentieth day of August — 't was the feast of false

Mahound —
Came the Moorish population from the neighbouring cities

round ;
There to hold their foul carousal, there to dance and there

to sing.
And to pay their yearly homage to Al-Widdicomb, the King !



First they wheeled their supple coursers, wheeled them at

their utmost speed.
Then they galloped by in squadrons, tossing far the light

jereed;
Then around the circus racing, faster than the swallow flies.
Did they spurn the yellow saw-dust in the rapt spectators'

eyes.




THE BOOK OF BALLADS.




Proudly did the Moorish monarch every passing warrior greet,
As he sate enthroned above them, with the lamps beneath

his feet ;
^^ Tell me, thou black-bearded Cadi ! are there any in the

land,
That against my janissaries dare one hour in combat stand? "



9.



Then the bearded Cadi answered — " Ee not wroth, my lord,

the King,
If thy faithful slave shall venture to observe one little thing ;



M



THE BOOK OP BALLADS.



Valiant, doubtless, are thy warriors, and their beards are

long and hairy.
And a thunderbolt in battle is each bristly janissary :

^^But I cannot, my sovereign, quite forget that fearful

day.
When I saw the Christian army in its terrible array ;
When they charged across the footlights like a torrent down

its bed.
With the red cross floating o'er them, and Fernando at

their head !

" Don Fernando Gomersalez ! matchless chieftain he in war,

Mightier than Don Sticknejo, braver than the Cid Eavar !

IN^ot a cheek within Grenada, my King, but wan and
pale is.

When they hear the dreaded name of Don Fernando Go-
mersalez !"



4'



1^



"Thou shalt see thy champion, Cadi! hither quick the

captive bring!"
Thus in wrath and deadly anger spoke Al-Widdicomb,
the King :
'^Ift " Paler than a maiden's forehead is the Christian's hue I

ween,
gM Since a year within the dungeons of Grenada he hath been ! '



THE BOOK or BALLADS.

Then they brought the Gomersalez, and they led the

warrior in,
Weak and wasted seemed his body, and his face was pale

and thin ;
Eut the ancient fire was burning, unallayed, within his eye.
And his step was proud and stately, and his look was stem

and high.

Scarcely from tumultuous cheering could the galleried

crowd refrain,
For they knew Don Gomersalez and his prowess in the plain ;
But they feared the grizzly despot and his myrmidons in

steel.
So their sympathy descended in the fruitage of Seville.

'* Wherefore, monarch, hast thou brought me from the

dungeon dark and drear.
Where these limbs of mine have wasted in confinement for

a year ?
Dost thou lead me forth to torture ? — Eack and pincers I

defy—
Is it that thy base grotesques may behold a hero die ?"

'' Hold thy peace, thou Christian caitiff! and attend to what

I say :
Thou art called the starkest rider of the Spanish curs' array —



^T



THE BOOK OF BALLADS.



If thy courage be undaunted, as they say it was of yore,
^^ Thou may'st yet achieve thy freedom, — ^yet regain thy
native shore.



^^ Courses three within this circus 'gainst my warriors shalt

thou run.
Ere yon weltering pasteboard ocean shall receive yon muslin

sun;
Victor — thou shalt have thy freedom ; but if stretched upon

the plain,
To thy dark and dreary dungeon they shall bear thee back

again."

'^ Give me but the armour, monarch, I have worn in many

a field.
Give me but my trusty helmet, give me but my dinted shield ;
And my old steed, Bavieca, swiftest courser in the ring.
And I rather should imagine that I 'U do the business.

King!"






Then they carried down the armour from the garret where

it lay,
! but it was red and rusty, and the plumes were shorn

away ; j^^

And they led out Bavieca, from a foul and filthy van.
For the conqueror had sold him to a Moorish dogs-meat man.



THE BOOK OF BALLADS.



When the steed beheld his master, then he whinnied loud

and free,
And, in token of subjection, knelt upon each broken knee ;
And a tear of walnut largeness to the warrior's eyelids rose,
As he fondly picked a beanstraw from his coughing courser's



d



*^Many a time, Bavieca, hast thou borne me through the

fray!
Bear me but again as deftly through the listed ring this

day;
Or if thou art worn and feeble, as may well have come to

pass.
Time it is, my trusty charger, both of us were sent to grass ! "

Then he seized his lance, and vaulting in the saddle, sate

upright,
Marble seemed the noble courser, iron seemed the mailed

knight;
And a cry of admiration burst from every Moorish lady —
*^ Five to four on Don Fernando !" cried the sable-bearded

Cadi.



Warriors three from Alcantara burst into the listed space.
Warriors three, all bred in battle, of the proud Alhambra
race :




THE BOOK OF BALLADS.

Trumpets sounded, coursers bounded, and the foremost

straight went down,
Tumbling, like a sack of turnips, just before the jeering

Clown.

In the second chieftain galloped, and he bowed him to the

King,
And his saddle-girths were tightened by the Master of the

Eing;
Through three blazoned hoops he bounded ere the desperate

fight began —
Don Ternando ! bear thee bravely ! — 't is the Moor Abdor-

rhoman !

Like a double streak of lightning, clashing in the sulphurous

sky.
Met the pair of hostile heroes, and they made the saw-dust

fly;

And the Moslem spear so stiffly smote on Don Fernando' s

mail,
That he reeled, as if in liquor, back to Bavieca's tail.



m

I'



But he caught the mace beside him, and he griped it hard

and fast.
And he swung it starkly upwards as the foeman bounded

past ;



THE BOOK OP BALLADS.



%



%:



And the deadly stroke descended through the skull and

through the brain,
As ye may have seen a poker cleave a cocoa-nut in twain.

Sore astonished was the monarch, and the Moorish warriors

all.
Save the third bold chief, who tarried and beheld his

brethren fall ;
And the Clown in haste arising from the footstool where

he sat,
^N'otified the first appearance of the famous Acrobat !



!



[N'ever on a single charger rides that stout and stalwart

Moor,
rive beneath his stride so stately bear him o'er the

trembling floor ;
Five Arabians, black as midnight — on their necks the rein

he throws,
And the outer and the inner feel the pressure of his toes.



JS'ever wore that chieftain armour ; in a knot himself he

ties,
With his grizzly head appearing in the centre of his thighs.
Till the petrified spectator asks in paralysed alarm —
Where may be the warrior's body, — ^which is leg, and

which is arm ?



THE BOOK OP BALLADS.




I?



I



I



'^ Sound the charge !" the coursers started ; with a yell and
furious vault,

High in air the Moorish champion cut a wondrous somer-
sault;

O'er the head of Don Fernando like a tennis-ball he sprung,

Caught him tightly by the girdle, and behind the crupper
hung.

Then his dagger Don Fernando plucked from out its

jewelled sheath.
And he struck the Moor so fiercely, as he grappled him

beneath,



75



THE BOOK OF BALLADS.



That the good Damascus weapon sunk within the folds of

fat,
And, as dead as Julius Caesar, dropped the Gordian Acrobat.

Meanwhile fast the sun was sinking, — it had sunk beneath

the sea.
Ere Fernando Gromersalez smote the latter of the three ;
And Al-Widdicomb, the monarch, pointed with a bitter

smile,
To the deeply- darkening canvas — ^blacker grew it all the

while.

^' Thou hast slain my warriors, Spaniard ! but thou hast
not kept thy time ;

Only two had sank before thee ere I heard the curfew
chime ;

Back thou goest to thy dungeon, and thou may'st be wond-
rous glad.

That thy head is on thy shoulders for thy work to-day,
my lad !



^^ Therefore all thy boasted valour, Christian dog, of no

avail is!" ^Sl

Dark as midnight grew the brow of Don Fernando Gomer-
salez ; —



16



THE BOOK OF BALLADS.

Stiffly sate he in his saddle, grimly looked around the

ring,
Laid his lance within the rest, and shook his gauntlet at

the Kinor.



'' 0, thou foul and faithless traitor ! wouldst thou play me

false again ?
Welcome death and welcome torture, rather than the

captive's chain !
But I give thee warning, caitiff ! Look thou sharply to

thine eye —
Unavenged, at least in harness, Gomersalez shall not

die!"

Thus he spoke, and Bavieca like an arrow forward flew,
Eight and left the Moorish squadron wheeled to let the

hero through ;
Brightly gleamed the lance of vengeance — fiercely sped the

fatal thrust —
From his throne the Moorish monarch tumbled lifeless in

the dust.

Speed thee, speed thee, Bavieca ! speed thee faster than the

wind ! , .J,

Life and freedom are before thee, deadly foes give chase '*^j
behind !



17






THE BOOK OF BALLADS.




Speed thee up tlie sloping spring-board ; o'er the bridge

that spans the seas ;
Yonder gauzy moon will light thee through the grove of

canvas trees.



18



J/



THE BOOK OF BALLABS.



I



Close before thee, Pampeluna spreads her painted paste-
board gate !

Speed thee onward, gallant courser, speed thee with thy
knightly freight —

Victory ! the town receives them ! — Grentle ladies, this the
tale is.

Which I learned in Astley's Circus, of Fernando Gomer-




-^^^^'^



s




€t[B Cnttrtelit|i nf nur €11



What a pang of sweet emotion

Thrilled the Master of the Eing,
When he first beheld the lady,

Through the stabled portal spring !
Midway in his wild grimacing

Stopped the piebald- visaged Clown ;
And the thunders of the audience

Nearly brought the gallery down.




THE BOOK OF BALLADS.



Ti^



V



Donna Inez Woolfordinez !

Saw ye ever sucli a maid,
With the feathers s waling o'er her,

And her spangled rich brocade ?
In her fairy hand a horsewhip.

On her foot a buskin small ;
So she stepped, the stately damsel.

Through the scarlet grooms and all.



And she beckoned for her courser,

And they brought a milk-white mare ;
Proud, I ween, was that Arabian

Such a gentle freight to bear :
And the Master moved towards her,

With a proud and stately walk ;
And, in reverential homage,

Eubbed her soles with virgin chalk.



Bound she flew, as Flora flying

Spans the circle of the year ;
And the youth of London, sighing,

Half forgot the ginger beer —
Quite forgot the maids beside them ;

As they surely well might do.
When she raised two Roman candles.

Shooting fireballs red and blue 1



*^



THE BOOK OP BALLADS.



Swifter than tlie Tartar's arrow,

Lighter than the lark in flight,
On the left foot now she bounded,

I^ow she stood upon the right.
Like a beantifnl Bacchante,

Here she soars, and there she kneels^
While amid her floating tresses,

Plash two whirling Catherine wheels I

Hark ! the blare of yonder trnmpet !

See, the gates are open wide !
Eoom, there, room for Gomersalez, —

Gomersalez in his pride !
Eose the shouts of exultation,

Eose the cat's triumphant call.
As he bounded, man and courser,

Over Master, Clown, and all !

Donna Inez Woolfordinez !

"Why those blushes on thy cheek r
Doth thy trembling bosom tell thee,

He hath come thy love to seek ?
Pleet thy Arab — ^but behind thee

He is rushing like a gale ;
One foot on his coal black's shoulders,

And the other on his tail !



*^te



22



THE BOOK or BALLADS.

Onward, onward, panting maiden !

He is faint and fails — for now,
By the feet he hangs suspended

Prom his glistening saddle-bow.
Down are gone both cap and feather.

Lance and gonfalon are down !
Trunks, and cloak, and vest of velvet,

He has flung them to the Clown.



Paint and failing ! Up he vaulteth,
Fresh as when he first began ;

All in coat of bright vermilion,

'Quipped as Shaw, the Life-guardsman,

Right and left his whizzing broadsword,
Like a sturdy flail, he throws ;

Cutting out a path unto thee
Through imaginary foes.



f






Woolfordinez ! speed thee onward !

He is hard upon thy track, —
Paralysed is Widdicombez,

^or his whip can longer crack ;-
He has flung away his broadsword,

'Tis to clasp thee to his breast.
Onward ! — see he bares his bosom,

Tears away his scarlet vest ;



THE BOOK OF BALLADS.



cr=:~rf^g^^^



Leaps from out his nether garments,

And his leathern stock unties —
As the flower of London's dustmen,

;N'ow in swift pursuit he flies.
]N^imhly now he cuts and shuffles^

O'er the buckle, heel and toe 1
And with hands deep in his pockets

Winks to all the throng helo-w I



I



Onward, onward rush the coursers ;

Woolfordinez, peerless girl,
O'er the garters lightly bounding

From her steed with airy whirl I
Gamersalez, wild with passion,

Danger — all but her — ^forgets ;
Wheresoe'er she flies, pursues her.

Casting clouds of somersets 1



t\



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^)nward, onwajrd rush the coursers ;

Bright is Gomersalez' eye ;
Saints protect thee, Woolfordinez,

For his triumph, sure, is nigh !
Now his courser's flanks he lashes,

O'er his shoulder flings the rein*
iVnd his feet aloft he tosses,

Holding stoutly by the mane I



^n



2i



THE EOOK OF BALLADS.

Then, his feet once more regaining-
Doffs his jacket, doifs his smalls ;

And in graceful folds around him
A bespangled tunic falls.

Pinions from his heels are bursting,

His bright locks have pinions o'er them ;

And the public sees with rapture
Maia's nimble son before them.

Speed thee, speed thee, Woolfordinez !

For a panting god pursues ;
And the chalk is very nearly

Eubbed from thy white satin shoes ;
Every bosom throbs with terror.

You might hear a pin to drop ;
All was hushed, save where a starting

Cork gave out a casual pop.



One smart lash across his courser.

One tremendous bound and stride,
And our noble Cid was standing

Ey his Woolfordinez' side !
With a god's embrace he clasped her,

Eaised her in his manly arms ;
And the stables' closing barriers

Hid his valour, and her charms !



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uiitjl tjiB iHapiiiiig £urttr :

^r, ^t American St. George.



FYTTE FIRST.



Have you heard of Philip Slingsby,
Slingsby of the manly chest ;

How he slew the Snapping Turtle
In the regions of the West ?



Every day the huge Cawana
Lifted up its monstrous jaws ;

And it swallowed Langton Bennett,
And digested Rufus Dawes.



•^^^



■<^^»Sii2^g^ J- -IT? .f M »



THE BOOK OF BALLADS.



,r



Kiled, I ween, was Philip Slingsby,
Their untimely deaths to hear ;

For one author owed him money,
And the other loved him dear.

'^ Listen now, sagacious Tyler,

Whom the loafers all obey ;
What reward ^\all Congress give me.

If I take this pest away ?"

Then sagacious Tyler answered,

'^ You're the ring- tailed squealer ! Less
Than a hundred heavy dollars

Won't be offered you, I guess !

'^ And a lot of wooden nutmegs

In the bargain, too, we'll throw —

Only you jest fix the criter —
Won't you liquor ere you go ?"

Straightway leaped the valiant Slingsby

Into armour of Seville,
With a strong Arkansas toothpick

Screwed in every joint of steel.

" Come thou with me, Cullen Bryant,
Come with me as squire, I pray ;

Be the Homer of the battle
That I go to wage to-day."



m



THE EOOK OF BALLADS.



So they went along careering

With a loud and martial tramp,

Till they neared the Snapping Turtle
In the dreary Swindle Swamp.

But when Slingsby saw the water,
Somewhat pale, I ween, was he.

*^ If I come not back, dear Bryant,
Tell the tale to Melanie !

*' Tell her that I died devoted.

Victim to a noble task !
Ha'n't you got a drop of brandy

In the bottom of your flask ? "

As he spoke, an alligator

Swam across the sullen creek ;

And the two Columbians started

When they heard the monster shriek :

For a snout of huge dimensions
Eose above the waters high.

And took down the alligator.
As a trout takes down a fly.

" 'Tamal death! the Snapping Turtle !"
Thus the squire in terror cried ;

But the noble Slingsby straightway
Drew the toothpick from his side.



THE BOOK OF BALLADS.



A-1
i



Jf






*' Fare thee well !" lie cried, and dashing
Through the waters, strongly swam :

Meanwhile CuUen Bryant, watching,
Breathed a prayer and sucked a dram.

Sudden from the slimy bottom
Was the snout again upreared,

With a snap as loud as thunder, —
And the Slingsby disappeared.

Like a mighty steam-ship foundering,
Down the monstrous vision sank ;

And the ripple, slowly rolling.

Plashed and played upon the bank.

Still and stiller grew the water.

Hushed the canes within the brake ;
There was but a kind of coughing
At the bottom of the lake.

Bryant wept as loud and deeply

As a father for a son —
'' He's a finished 'coon, is Slingsby,

And the brandy's nearly done !"



-^fM^r^—'



^



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f%^



^^



THE BOOK OF BALLADS.






FYTTE SECOND.

I:j;r a trance of sickening anguish,

Cold, and stiff, and sore, and damp,

For two days did Bryant linger
By the dreary Swindle Swamp ;

Always peering at the water.
Always waiting for the hour.

When those monstrous jaws should open
As he saw them ope before.

Still in vain ; — the alligators

Scrambled through the marshy brake,
And the vampire leeches gaily

Sucked the garfish in the lake.

But the Snapping Turtle never
Rose for food or rose for rest,

Since he lodged the steel deposit
In the bottom of his chest.

Only always from the bottom

Yiolent sounds of coughing rolled,

Just as if the huge Cawana
Had a most confounded cold.



J



t







On the bank lay CuUen Bryant,

As the second moon arose ;
Gouging on the sloping green sward

Some imaginary foes.

When the swamp began to trenible
And the canes to rustle fast,

As if some stupendous body

Through their roots was crushing past.

And the water boiled and bubbled.


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Online LibraryTheodore MartinThe book of ballads → online text (page 1 of 9)