A Little Book of Western Verse Part 10

My creditors beset me so And so environed my abode, That I agreed, despite my need, To settle up the debts I owed; When suddenly there came the news Of this invasion, as you know; I'll pay no score; pray, lend me more,-- I--_I_ will keep it from the foe!

Now here's my mistress,--pretty dear!-- Feigns terror at this martial noise, And yet, methinks, the artful minx Would like to meet those soldier boys!

I tell her that they're coa.r.s.e and rude, Yet feel she don't believe 'em so,-- Well, never mind; so she be kind, That much I rescue from the foe!

If, brothers, hope shall have in store For us and ours no friendly glance, Let's rather die than raise a cry Of welcome to the foes of France!

But, like the swan that dying sings, Let us, O Frenchmen, singing go,-- Then shall our cheer, when death is near, Be so much rescued from the foe!

MR. DANA, OF THE NEW YORK SUN

Thar showed up out'n Denver in the spring uv '81 A man who'd worked with Dana on the Noo York Sun.

His name wuz Cantell Whoppers, 'nd he wuz a sight ter view Ez he walked inter the orfice 'nd inquired fer work ter do.

Thar warn't no places vacant then,--fer be it understood, That wuz the time when talent flourished at that alt.i.tood; But thar the stranger lingered, tellin' Raymond 'nd the rest Uv what perdigious wonders he could do when at his best, Till finally he stated (quite by chance) that he hed done A heap uv work with Dana on the Noo York Sun.

Wall, that wuz quite another thing; we owned that ary cuss Who'd worked f'r Mr. Dana _must_ be good enough fer _us_!

And so we tuk the stranger's word 'nd nipped him while we could, For if _we didn't_ take him we knew John Arkins _would_; And Cooper, too, wuz mouzin' round fer enterprise 'nd brains, Whenever them commodities blew in across the plains.

At any rate we nailed him, which made ol' Cooper swear And Arkins tear out handfuls uv his copious curly hair; But _we_ set back and cackled, 'nd bed a power uv fun With our man who'd worked with Dana on the Noo York Sun.

It made our eyes hang on our cheeks 'nd lower jaws ter drop, Ter hear that feller tellin' how ol' Dana run his shop: It seems that Dana wuz the biggest man you ever saw,-- He lived on human bein's, 'nd preferred to eat 'em raw!

If he hed Democratic drugs ter take, before he took 'em, As good old allopathic laws prescribe, he allus shook 'em.

The man that could set down 'nd write like Dany never grew, And the sum of human knowledge wuzn't half what Dana knew; The consequence appeared to be that nearly every one Concurred with Mr. Dana of the Noo York Sun.

This feller, Cantell Whoppers, never brought an item in,-- He spent his time at Perrin's shakin' poker dice f'r gin.

Whatever the a.s.signment, he wuz allus sure to shirk, He wuz very long on likker and all-fired short on work!

If any other cuss had played the tricks he dared ter play, The daisies would be bloomin' over his remains to-day; But somehow folks respected him and stood him to the last, Considerin' his superior connections in the past.

So, when he bilked at poker, not a sucker drew a gun On the man who 'd worked with Dana on the Noo York Sun.

Wall, Dana came ter Denver in the fall uv '83.

A very different party from the man we thought ter see,-- A nice 'nd clean old gentleman, so dignerfied 'nd calm, You bet yer life he never did no human bein' harm!

A certain hearty manner 'nd a fulness uv the vest Betokened that his sperrits 'nd his victuals wuz the best; His face wuz so benevolent, his smile so sweet 'nd kind, That they seemed to be the reflex uv an honest, healthy mind; And G.o.d had set upon his head a crown uv silver hair In promise uv the golden crown He meaneth him to wear.

So, uv us boys that met him out'n Denver, there wuz none But fell in love with Dana uv the Noo York Sun.

But when he came to Denver in that fall uv '83, His old friend Cantell Whoppers disappeared upon a spree; The very thought uv seein' Dana worked upon him so (They hadn't been together fer a year or two, you know), That he borrered all the stuff he could and started on a bat, And, strange as it may seem, we didn't see him after that.

So, when ol' Dana hove in sight, we couldn't understand Why he didn't seem to notice that his crony wa'n't on hand; No casual allusion, not a question, no, not one, For the man who'd "worked with Dana on the Noo York Sun!"

We broke it gently to him, but he didn't seem surprised, Thar wuz no big burst uv pa.s.sion as we fellers had surmised.

He said that Whoppers wuz a man he 'd never heerd about, But he mought have carried papers on a Ja.r.s.ey City route; And then he recollected hearin' Mr. Laffan say That he'd fired a man named Whoppers fur bein' drunk one day, Which, with more likker _underneath_ than money _in_ his vest, Had started on a freight-train fur the great 'nd boundin' West, But further information or statistics he had none Uv the man who'd "worked with Dana on the Noo York Sun."

We dropped the matter quietly 'nd never made no fuss,-- When we get played for suckers, why, that's a horse on us!-- But every now 'nd then we Denver fellers have to laff To hear some other paper boast uv havin' on its staff A man who's "worked with Dana," 'nd then we fellers wink And pull our hats down on our eyes 'nd set around 'nd think.

It seems like Dana couldn't be as smart as people say, If he educates so many folks 'nd lets 'em get away; And, as for us, in future we'll be very apt to shun The man who "worked with Dana on the Noo York Sun."

But bless ye, Mr. Dana! may you live a thousan' years, To sort o' keep things lively in this vale of human tears; An' may _I_ live a thousan', too,--a thousan' less a day, For I shouldn't like to be on earth to hear you'd pa.s.sed away.

And when it comes your time to go you'll need no Latin chaff Nor biographic data put in your epitaph; But one straight line of English and of truth will let folks know The homage 'nd the grat.i.tude 'nd reverence they owe; You'll need no epitaph but this: "Here sleeps the man who run That best 'nd brightest paper, the Noo York Sun."

SICILIAN LULLABY

Hush, little one, and fold your hands; The sun hath set, the moon is high; The sea is singing to the sands, And wakeful posies are beguiled By many a fairy lullaby: Hush, little child, my little child!

Dream, little one, and in your dreams Float upward from this lowly place,-- Float out on mellow, misty streams To lands where bideth Mary mild, And let her kiss thy little face, You little child, my little child!

Sleep, little one, and take thy rest, With angels bending over thee,-- Sleep sweetly on that Father's breast Whom our dear Christ hath reconciled; But stay not there,--come back to me, O little child, my little child!

HORACE TO PYRRHA

What perfumed, posie-dizened sirrah, With smiles for diet, Clasps you, O fair but faithless Pyrrha, On the quiet?

For whom do you bind up your tresses, As spun-gold yellow,-- Meshes that go, with your caresses, To snare a fellow?

How will he rail at fate capricious, And curse you duly!

Yet now he deems your wiles delicious, _You_ perfect, truly!

Pyrrha, your love's a treacherous ocean; He'll soon fall in there!

Then shall I gloat on his commotion, For _I_ have been there!

THE TWENTY-THIRD PSALM

My Shepherd is the Lord my G.o.d,-- There is no want I know; His flock He leads in verdant meads, Where tranquil waters flow.

He doth restore my fainting soul With His divine caress, And, when I stray, He points the way To paths of righteousness.

Yea, though I walk the vale of death, What evil shall I fear?

Thy staff and rod are mine, O G.o.d, And Thou, my Shepherd, near!

Mine enemies behold the feast Which my dear Lord hath spread; And, lo! my cup He filleth up, With oil anoints my head!

Goodness and mercy shall be mine Unto my dying day; Then will I bide at His dear side Forever and for aye!

THE BIBLIOMANIAC'S BRIDE

The women-folk are like to books,-- Most pleasing to the eye, Whereon if anybody looks He feels disposed to buy.

I hear that many are for sale,-- Those that record no dates, And such editions as regale The view with colored plates.