Part 10
"Then 'cross the bounding brook they make their way O'er its rough bridge, and there behold the bay; The ocean smiling to the fervid sun, The waves that faintly fall and slowly run, The ships at distance, and the boats at hand, And now they walk upon the seaside sand, Counting the number, and what kind they be, Ships softly sinking in the sleepy sea."
Take also this from Shelley's "Ode to a Skylark:"
"Teach me half the gladness That my brain must know, Such harmonious madness From my lips would flow, The world should listen then, as I am listening now.
* * * * *
Waking or asleep, Thou of death must deem Things more true and deep Than we mortals dream, Or how could thy notes flow in such a crystal stream?"
In the numbers of "Truth" for November 1881, there appeared a variety of excellent examples of alphabetic verses in the course of a competition, and of these there follows one:
A YACHT ALPHABET.
"A was the Anchor which held fast our ship; B was the Boatswain, with whistle to lip; C was the Captain, who took the command; D was the Doctor, with physic at hand; E was the Euchre we played on the quiet; F was the Fellow who kicked up a riot; G was the Girl who was always so ill; H was the Hammock from which I'd a spill I was the Iceberg we passed on our way; J was the Jersey I wore all the day; K was the Keel, which was stuck on the shore; L was the Lubber we all thought a bore; M was the Mate, no one better I'd wish; N was the Net in which I caught a fish; O was the Oar which I broke--'twas so weak; P was the Pennon which flew at our peak; Q was the Quoit which was made out of rope; R was the Rat which would eat all our soap; S was the Sailor who got very tight; T was the Tempest which came on one night; U was the Uproar the night of the storm; V was the Vessel we spoke in due form; W's the Watch which the crew kept in turn; X was Xantippe, whom each one did spurn; Y was our Yacht, which flew through the foam; Z was the Zany who wouldn't leave home."
_NONSENSE VERSE._
The following lines have been kindly sent us by Professor E. H. Palmer, who wrote them after a cruise on a friend's yacht, and are an abortive attempt to get up a knowledge of nautical terms.
THE SHIPWRECK.
"Upon the poop the captain stands, As starboard as may be; And pipes on deck the topsail hands To reef the top-sail-gallant strands Across the briny sea.
'Ho! splice the anchor under-weigh!' The captain loudly cried; 'Ho! lubbers brave, belay! belay! For we must luff for Falmouth Bay Before to-morrow's tide.'
The good ship was a racing yawl, A spare-rigged schooner sloop, Athwart the bows the taffrails all In grummets gay appeared to fall, To deck the mainsail poop.
But ere they made the Foreland Light, And Deal was left behind; The wind it blew great gales that night, And blew the doughty captain tight, Full three sheets in the wind.
And right across the tiller head The horse it ran apace, Whereon a traveller hitched and sped Along the jib and vanishéd To heave the trysail brace.
What ship could live in such a sea! What vessel bear the shock? 'Ho! starboard port your helm-a-lee! Ho! reef the maintop-gallant-tree, With many a running block!'
And right upon the Scilly Isles The ship had run aground; When lo! the stalwart Captain Giles Mounts up upon the gaff and smiles, And slews the compass round.
'Saved! saved!' with joy the sailors cry, And scandalise the skiff; As taut and hoisted high and dry They see the ship unstoppered lie Upon the sea-girt cliff.
And since that day in Falmouth Bay, As herring-fishers trawl, The younkers hear the boatswains say How Captain Giles that awful day Preserved the sinking yawl."
Mr. Charles G. Leland sends the following, with the remark that he thinks the lines "the finest and daintiest nonsense" he ever read:
"Thy heart is like some icy lake, On whose cold brink I stand; Oh, buckle on my spirit's skate, And lead, thou living saint, the way To where the ice is thin-- That it may break beneath my feet And let a lover in!"
A short time ago in the new series of _Household Words_, a prize was offered for the writing of Nonsense Verses of eight lines. Of the lines sent in by the competitors we give three specimens:
"How many strive to force a way Where none can go save those who pay, To verdant plains of soft delight The homage of the silent night, When countless stars from pole to pole Around the earth unceasing roll In roseate shadow's silvery hue, Shine forth and gild the morning dew." --_Arym._
"And must we really part for good, But meet again here where we've stood? No more delightful trysting-place, We've watched sweet Nature's smiling face. No more the landscape's lovely brow, Exchange our mutual breathing vow. Then should the twilight draw around No loving interchange of sound." --_Culver._
"Less for renown than innate love, These to my wish must recreant prove; Nor whilst an impulse here remain, Can ever hope the soul to gain; For memory scanning all the past, Relaxes her firm bonds at last, And gives to candour all the grace The heart can in its temple trace." --_Dum Spiro Spero._
The curious style of some versifiers has been well imitated in the following
BALLAD OF THE PERIOD.
"An auld wife sat at her ivied door (_Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese_); A thing she had frequently done before; And her knitting reposed on her aproned knees.
The piper he piped on the hill-top high (_Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese_); Till the cow said, 'I die,' and the goose said, 'Why?' And the dog said nothing but searched for fleas.
The farmer's daughter hath soft brown hair (_Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese_); And I've met a ballad, I can't tell where, Which mainly consisted of lines like these."
W. S. Gilbert has some verses which are true nonsense, of which this is one:
"Sing for the garish eye, When moonless brandlings cling! Let the froddering crooner cry, And the braddled sapster sing. For never and never again, Will the tottering beechlings play, For bratticed wrackers are singing aloud, And the throngers croon in May!"
Mr. Lewis Carroll's "Hunting of the Snark"[10] is a very curious little book, full of the most delicate fun and queer nonsense, with delightful illustrations. It gives an account of how a Bellman, Boots, Barrister, Broker, Billiard-marker, Banker, Beaver, Baker, and Butcher go a-hunting after a mythical Beast called a "Snark." It is difficult to detach a passage for quotation, but the following few lines will show how the "Quest of the Snark" was purposed to be carried on:
"To seek it with thimbles, to seek it with care: To pursue it with forks and hope; To threaten its life with a railway share; To charm it with smiles and soap!
For the Snark's a peculiar creature, that won't Be caught in a commonplace way; Do all that you know, and try all that you don't: Not a chance must be wasted to-day!"
The verses which follow are from the "Comic Latin Grammar," and if they are not nonsense they show at least how thin the partition line is between true nonsense verse and many of those pieces which were wont to be known by the name of Album Verses:
LINES BY A FOND LOVER.
"Lovely maid, with rapture swelling, Should these pages meet thine eye, Clouds of absence soft dispelling;-- Vacant memory heaves a sigh.
As the rose, with fragrance weeping, Trembles to the tuneful wave, So my heart shall twine unsleeping, Till it canopies the grave.
Though another's smile's requited, Envious fate my doom should be; Joy for ever disunited, Think, ah! think, at times on me!
Oft, amid the spicy gloaming, Where the brakes their songs instil, Fond affection silent roaming, Loves to linger by the rill--
There, when echo's voice consoling, Hears the nightingale complain, Gentle sighs my lips controlling, Bind my soul in beauty's chain.
Oft in slumber's deep recesses, I thy mirror'd image see; Fancy mocks the vain caresses I would lavish like a bee!
But how vain is glittering sadness! Hark, I hear distraction's knell! Torture gilds my heart with madness! Now for ever fare thee well!"
_LIPOGRAMS._
The reading of Lope de Vega's five novels, in each of which a different vowel is omitted, led to Lord Holland writing the following curious production, in which no vowel is used but _e_:
EVE'S LEGEND.
"Men were never perfect; yet the three brethren Veres were ever esteemed, respected, revered, even when the rest, whether the select few, whether the mere herd, were left neglected.
"The eldest's vessels seek the deep, stem the element, get pence; the keen Peter when free, wedded Hester Green,--the slender, stern, severe, erect Hester Green. The next, clever Ned, less dependent, wedded sweet Ellen Heber. Stephen, ere he met the gentle Eve, never felt tenderness: he kept kennels, bred steeds, rested where the deer fed, went where green trees, where fresh breezes greeted sleep. There he met the meek, the gentle Eve; she tended her sheep, she ever neglected self; she never heeded pelf, yet she heeded the shepherds even less. Nevertheless, her cheek reddened when she met Stephen; yet decent reserve, meek respect, tempered her speech, even when she showed tenderness. Stephen felt the sweet effect: he felt he erred when he fled the sex, yet felt he defenceless when Eve seemed tender. She, he reflects, never deserved neglect; she never vented spleen; he esteems her gentleness, her endless deserts; he reverences her steps; he greets her:
"Tell me whence these meek, these gentle sheep,--whence the yet meeker, the gentler shepherdess?"
"'Well bred, we were eke better fed, ere we went where reckless men seek fleeces. There we were fleeced. Need then rendered me shepherdess, need renders me sempstress. See me tend the sheep, see me sew the wretched shreds. Eve's need preserves the steers, preserves the sheep; Eve's needle mends her dresses, hems her sheets; Eve feeds the geese; Eve preserves the cheese.'
"Her speech melted Stephen, yet he nevertheless esteems, reveres her. He bent the knee where her feet pressed the green; he blessed, he begged, he pressed her.
"'Sweet, sweet Eve, let me wed thee; be led where Hester Green, where Ellen Heber, where the brethren Vere dwell. Free cheer greets thee there; Ellen's glees sweeten the refreshments; there severer Hester's decent reserve checks heedless jests. Be led there, sweet Eve.'
"'Never! we well remember the Seer. We went where he dwells--we entered the cell--we begged the decree,--
"'Where, whenever, when, 'twere well Eve be wedded? Eld Seer, tell!
"'He rendered the decree; see here the sentence decreed!' Then she presented Stephen the Seer's decree. The verses were these:
"'_Ere the green be red, Sweet Eve, be never wed; Ere be green the red cheek, Never wed thee, Eve meek._'
"The terms perplexed Stephen, yet he jeered them. He resented the senseless credence, 'Seers never err.' Then he repented, knelt, wheedled, wept. Eve sees Stephen kneel, she relents, yet frets when she remembers the Seer's decree. Her dress redeems her. These were the events:
"Her well-kempt tresses fell: sedges, reeds beckoned them. The reeds fell, the edges met her cheeks; her cheeks bled. She presses the green sedge where her cheek bleeds. Red then bedewed the green reed, the green reed then speckled her red cheek. The red cheek seems green, the green reed seems red. These were the terms the Eld Seer decreed Stephen Vere.
HERE ENDETH THE LEGEND."
The following curious lines run in quite an opposite way to the preceding, for each verse has been written so as to include every letter in the alphabet but the vowel _e_:
THE FATE OF NASSAN.
"Bold Nassan quits his caravan, A hazy mountain grot to scan; Climbs jaggy rocks to spy his way, Doth tax his sight, but far doth stray.
Not work of man, nor sport of child, Finds Nassan in that mazy wild; Lax grows his joints, limbs toil in vain-- Poor wight! why didst thou quit that plain
Vainly for succour Nassan calls, Know, Zillah, that thy Nassan falls; But prowling wolf and fox may joy, To quarry on thy Arab boy."
Here follows a fugitive verse, written with _ease_ without _e's_:
"A jovial swain may rack his brain, And tax his fancy's might, To quiz in vain, for 'tis most plain, That what I say is right."
_CENTONES OR MOSAICS._
Of this formerly favourite amusement of the learned we give several examples, only noting here that the word "Cento" primarily signified a cloak made of patches.
1. I only knew she came and went, 2. Like troutlets in a pool; 3. She was a phantom of delight, 4. And I was like a fool.
5. One kiss, dear maid, I said, and sighed, 6. Out of those lips unshorn, 7. She shook her ringlets round her head 8. And laughed in merry scorn.
9. Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky, 10. You heard them, O my heart; 11. 'Tis twelve at night by the castle clock, 12. Beloved, we must part.
13. "Come back, come back!" she cried in grief, 14. My eyes are dim with tears-- 15. How shall I live through all the days? 16. All through a hundred years?
17. 'Twas in the prime of summer time, 18. She blessed me with her hand; 19. We strayed together, deeply blest, 20. Into the dreaming land.
21. The laughing bridal roses blow, 22. To dress her dark-brown hair; 23. My heart is breaking with my woe, 24. Most beautiful! most rare!
25. I clasped it on her sweet, cold hand, 26. The precious golden link! 27. I calmed her fears, and she was calm, 28. "Drink, pretty creature, drink!"
29. And so I won my Genevieve, 30. And walked in Paradise; 31. The fairest thing that ever grew 32. Atween me and the skies!
1. Powell; 2. Hood; 3. Wordsworth; 4. Eastman; 5. Coleridge; 6. Longfellow; 7. Stoddard; 8. Tennyson; 9. Tennyson; 10. Alice Cary; 11. Coleridge; 12. Alice Cary; 13. Campbell; 14. Bayard Taylor; 15. Osgood; 16. T. S. Perry; 17. Hood; 18. Hoyt; 19. Edwards; 20. Cornwall; 21. Patmore; 22. Bayard Taylor; 23. Tennyson; 24. Read; 25. Browning; 26. Smith; 27. Coleridge; 28. Wordsworth; 29. Coleridge; 30. Hervey; 31. Wordsworth; 32. Osgood.
The next appeared a short time ago in one of the Edinburgh newspapers, signed R. Fleming, and is a mosaic compilation from poems written to the memory of Robert Burns:
1. Immortal bard, immortal Burns! 2. Whose lines are mottoes of the heart; 3. Affection loves and memory learns 4. Thy songs "untaught by rules of art." 5. For dear as life--as heaven--will be, 6. As years on years successive roll; 7. Fair types of thy rich harmony 8. Who wrote to humanise the soul.
9. His lyre was sweet, majestic, grand, 10. The pride and honour of the North; 11. His song was of bold freedom's land, 12. Brave Scotland, freedom's throne on earth.
13. Oft by the winding banks of Ayr; 14. With sinewy arm he turned the soil; 15. He painted Scotland's daughters fair, 16. Through twilight shades of good and ill.
17. His native wild enchanting strains, 18. Like dear memories round the hearth, 19. Immortalise the poet's name, 20. And few have won a greener wreath.
21. From John O'Groat's to 'cross the Tweed 22. What heart hath ever matched his flame? 23. Though rough and dark the path he trod, 24. Long shall old Scotland keep his name.
25. Great master of our Doric rhyme, 26. Though here thy course was but a span; 27. The pealing rapturous notes sublime 28. Binds man with fellow-man.
29. Peace to the dead--in Scotia's choir-- 30. Yes, future bards shall pour the lay, 31. Warmed with a "spark of nature's fire," 32. While years insidious steal away.
1. Bennoch; 2. Campbell; 3. Imlach; 4. Gray; 5. Glen; 6. Paul; 7. M'Laggan; 8. Tannahill; 9. Glen; 10. Allan; 11. Gilfillan; 12. Park; 13. Wallace; 14. Roscoe; 15. Vedder; 16. Wordsworth; 17. Reid; 18. Glass; 19. Paul; 20. Halleck; 21. Macindoe; 22. Ainslie; 23. Halleck; 24. Kelly; 25. Gray; 26. Mercer; 27. Vedder; 28. Imlach; 29. Montgomery; 30. Gray; 31. Rushton; 32. Gilfillan.
The three following verses are very good:
1. When first I met thee, warm and young, 2. My heart I gave thee with my hand; 3. My name was then a magic spell, 4. Casting a dim religious light.
5. But now, as we plod on our way, 6. My heart no more with rapture swells; 7. I would not, if I could, be gay, 8. When earth is filled with cold farewells!
9. The heath this night must be my bed, 10. Ye vales, ye streams, ye groves, adieu? 11. Farewell for aye, e'en love is dead, 12. Would I could add, remembrance too!
1. Moore; 2. Morris; 3. Norton; 4. Milton; 5. Percival; 6. M'Naughton; 7. Rogers; 8. Patmore; 9. Scott; 10. Pope; 11. Procter; 12. Byron.
The following is copied from "Fireside Amusements," published by the Messrs. Chambers, every line being taken from a different poet:
"On Linden when the sun was low, A frog he would a-wooing go; He sighed a sigh, and breathed a prayer, None but the brave deserve the fair.
A gentle knight was pricking o'er the plain, Remote, unfriended, melancholy, slow; Gums and pomatums shall his flight restrain, Or who would suffer being here below.
The younger of the sister arts Was born on the open sea; The rest were slain at Chevy Chase, Under the greenwood tree.
At morn the blackcock trims his jetty wings, And says--remembrance saddening o'er each brow-- Awake, my St. John! leave all meaner things! Who would be free themselves must strike the blow!
It was a friar of orders gray, Still harping on my daughter: Sister spirit, come away, Across this stormy water.
On the light fantastic toe, Othello's occupation's gone; Maid of Athens, ere I go, Were the last words of Marmion.
There was a sound of revelry by night In Thebes' streets three thousand years ago; And comely virgins came with garlands dight To censure Fate, and pious Hope forgo.
Oh! the young Lochinvar came out of the west, An underbred fine-spoken fellow was he; A back dropping in, an expansion of chest, Far more than I once could foresee."
_ECHO VERSES._
A GENTLE ECHO ON WOMAN.
(IN THE DORIC MANNER.)
_Shepherd._ Echo, I ween, will in the woods reply, And quaintly answer questions: shall I try? _Echo._ Try. _Shep._ What must we do our passion to express? _Echo._ Press. _Shep._ How shall I please her, who ne'er loved before? _Echo._ Before. _Shep._ What most moves women when we them address? _Echo._ A dress. _Shep._ Say, what can keep her chaste whom I adore? _Echo._ A door. _Shep._ If music softens rocks, love tunes my lyre. _Echo._ Liar. _Shep._ Then teach me, Echo, how shall I come by her? _Echo._ Buy her. _Shep._ When bought, no question I shall be her dear? _Echo._ Her dear. _Shep._ But deer have horns: how must I keep her under? _Echo._ Keep her under. _Shep._ But what can glad me when she's laid on bier? _Echo._ Beer. _Shep._ What must I do when women will be kind? _Echo._ Be kind. _Shep._ What must I do when women will be cross? _Echo._ Be cross. _Shep._ Lord, what is she that can so turn and wind? _Echo._ Wind. _Shep._ If she be wind, what stills her when she blows? _Echo._ Blows. _Shep._ But if she bang again, still should I bang her? _Echo._ Bang her. _Shep._ Is there no way to moderate her anger? _Echo._ Hang her. _Shep._ Thanks, gentle Echo! right thy answers tell What woman is and how to guard her well. _Echo._ Guard her well.
ECHO AND THE LOVER.
_Lover._ Echo! mysterious nymph, declare Of what you're made, and what you are. _Echo._ Air. _Lover._ 'Mid airy cliffs and places high; Sweet Echo! listening love, you lie. _Echo._ You lie. _Lover._ Thou dost resuscitate dead sounds-- Hark! how my voice revives, resounds! _Echo._ Zounds! _Lover._ I'll question thee before I go-- Come, answer me more apropos! _Echo._ Poh! Poh! _Lover._ Tell me, fair nymph, if ere you saw So sweet a girl as Phoebe Shaw? _Echo._ Pshaw! _Lover._ Say what will turn that frisking coney Into the toils of matrimony? _Echo._ Money! _Lover._ Has Phoebe not a heavenly brow? Is not her bosom white as snow? _Echo._ Ass! no! _Lover._ Her eyes! was ever such a pair? Are the stars brighter than they are. _Echo._ They are. _Lover._ Echo, thou liest! but canst deceive me. _Echo._ Leave me. _Lover._ But come, thou saucy, pert romancer, Who is as fair as Phoebe? Answer! _Echo._ Ann, sir.
The latest good verses of this class are attributed to an echo that haunts the Sultan's palace at Constantinople. Abdul Hamid is supposed to question it as to the intentions of the European powers and his own resources:
"L'Angleterre? Erre. L'Autriche? Triche. La Prusse? Russe. Mes principautés? Otées. Mes cuirasses? Assez. Mes Pashas? Achats. Et Suleiman? Ment." --_The Athenæum._
_WATCH-CASE VERSES._
When thick watches with removable cases were in fashion, and before the introduction of the present compact form, the outer case of the old-fashioned "turnip" was frequently the repository of verses and sundry devices, generally placed there by the watchmaker. Others, again, consisted of the maker's name and address, with some appropriate maxim, and were printed on satin or worked with the needle, and occasionally so devised as to appear in a circle without a break, as in the following:
"Onward perpetually moving These faithful hands are proving How soft the hours steal by; This monitory pulse-like beating, Is oftentimes methinks repeating, 'Swift, swift, the hours do fly.' Ready! be ready! perhaps before These hands have made One revolution more, Life's spring is snapt,-- You die!"
A watch-paper described by a writer in "Notes and Queries" gave the address of Bowen, 2 Tichborne Street, Piccadilly, on a pedestal surmounted by an urn. On the other side of the label was a winged figure, holding in one hand a watch at arm's length, and in the other a book. At her feet lay a sickle and a serpent with his tail in his mouth--the emblems of Time and Eternity. Round the circumference of the label were these lines--
"Little monitor, impart Some instruction to the heart; Show the busy and the gay Life is wasting swift away. Follies cannot long endure, Life is short and death is sure. Happy those who wisely learn Truth from error to discern: Truth, immortal as the soul, And unshaken as the pole."
The bottom of the case was lined with rose-coloured satin, on which was a device in lace-paper--the central portion representing two hearts transfixed by arrows, and surmounted by a dove holding a wreath in its bill. A circular band enclosed the device, and bore the motto--
"Joined by friendship, Crowned by love."
The lines next given are by Mr. J. Byrom, common called Dr. Byrom, whom we have previously referred to: