Ballads By William Makepeace Thackeray Part 4

"Alas! my kind young gentleman, This sharing cannot be; 'Tis written in the testament That Brentford spoke to me, 'I do forbid Prince Ned to give Prince Tom a halfpenny.

"'He hath a store of money, But ne'er was known to lend it; He never help'd his brother; The poor he ne'er befriended; He hath no need of property Who knows not how to spend it.

"'Poor Edward knows but how to spend, And thrifty Tom to h.o.a.rd; Let Thomas be the steward then, And Edward be the lord; And as the honest laborer Is worthy his reward,

"'I pray Prince Ned, my second son, And my successor dear, To pay to his intendant Five hundred pounds a year; And to think of his old father, And live and make good cheer.'"

Such was old Brentford's honest testament, He did devise his moneys for the best, And lies in Brentford church in peaceful rest.

Prince Edward lived, and money made and spent; But his good sire was wrong, it is confess'd To say his son, young Thomas, never lent.

He did. Young Thomas lent at interest, And n.o.bly took his twenty-five per cent.

Long time the famous reign of Ned endured O'er Chiswick, Fulham, Brentford, Putney, Kew, But of extravagance he ne'er was cured.

And when both died, as mortal men will do, 'Twas commonly reported that the steward Was very much the richer of the two.

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 pa.s.sengers 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 naught 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 alway; 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 tolling, And 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 c.o.c.ks 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 pa.s.sengers awaken, Most pitifully shaken; And the steward jumps up, and hastens For the necessary basins.

Then the Greeks they groaned and quivered, And they knelt, and moaned, and shivered, As the plunging waters met them, And splashed and overset them; And they call in their emergence Upon countless saints and virgins; And their marrowbones are bended, And they think the world is ended.

And the Turkish women for'ard Were frightened and behorror'd; And shrieking and bewildering, The mothers clutched their children; The men sung "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 gaberdine, 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, And which all will well remember On the 28th September; When a Prussian captain of Lancers (Those tight-laced, whiskered prancers) Came on the deck astonished, By that wild squall admonished, And wondering cried, "Potztausend, Wie ist der Sturm jetzt brausend?"

And looked at Captain Lewis, Who calmly stood and blew his Cigar in all the hustle, And scorned the tempest's tussle, And oft we've thought thereafter How he beat the storm to laughter; For well he knew his vessel With that vain wind could wrestle; And when a wreck we thought her, And doomed ourselves to slaughter, How gayly he fought her, And through the hubbub brought her, And as the tempest caught her, Cried, "GEORGE! SOME BRANDY-AND-WATER!"

And when, its force expended, The harmless storm was ended, And as the sunrise splendid Came blushing o'er the sea; I thought, as day was breaking, My little girls were waking, And smiling, and making A prayer at home for me.

1844.

PEG OF LIMAVADDY.

Riding from Coleraine (Famed for lovely Kitty), Came a c.o.c.kney bound Unto Derry city; Weary was his soul, Shivering and sad, he b.u.mped along the road Leads to Limavaddy.

Mountains stretch'd around, Gloomy was their tinting, And the horse's hoofs Made a dismal clinting; Wind upon the heath Howling was and piping, On the heath and bog, Black with many a snipe in.

Mid the bogs of black, Silver pools were flashing, Crows upon their sides Picking were and splashing.

c.o.c.kney on the car Closer folds his plaidy, Grumbling at the road Leads to Limavaddy.

Through the crashing woods Autumn brawld and bl.u.s.ter'd, Tossing round about Leaves the hue of mustard Yonder lay Lough Foyle, Which a storm was whipping, Covering with mist Lake, and sh.o.r.es and shipping.

Up and down the hill (Nothing could be bolder), Horse went with a raw Bleeding on his shoulder.

"Where are horses changed?"

Said I to the laddy Driving on the box: "Sir, at Limavaddy."

Limavaddy inn's But a humble bait-house, Where you may procure Whiskey and potatoes; Landlord at the door Gives a smiling welcome-- To the shivering wights Who to his hotel come.

Landlady within Sits and knits a stocking, With a wary foot Baby's cradle rocking.

To the chimney nook Having, found admittance, There I watch a pup Playing with two kittens; (Playing round the fire), Which of blazing turf is, Roaring to the pot Which bubbles with the murphies.

And the cradled babe Fond the mother nursed it, Singing it a song As she twists the worsted!

Up and down the stair Two more young ones patter (Twins were never seen Dirtier nor fatter).

Both have mottled legs, Both have snubby noses, Both have-- Here the host Kindly interposes: "Sure you must be froze With the sleet and hail, sir: So will you have some punch, Or will you have some ale, sir?"

Presently a maid Enters with the liquor (Half a pint of ale Frothing in a beaker).

Gads! didn't know What my beating heart meant: Hebe's self I thought Entered the apartment.

As she came she smiled, And the smile bewitching, On my word and honor, Lighted all the kitchen!

With a curtsy neat Greeting the new comer, Lovely, smiling Peg Offers me the rummer; But my trembling hand Up the beaker tilted, And the gla.s.s of ale Every drop I spilt it: Spilt it every drop (Dames, who read my volumes, Pardon such a word) On my what-d'ye-call-'ems!

Witnessing the sight Of that dire disaster, Out began to laugh Missis, maid, and master; Such a merry peal 'Specially Miss Peg's was, (As the gla.s.s of ale Trickling down my legs was,) That the joyful sound Of that mingling laughter Echoed in my ears Many a long day after.

Such a silver peal!

In the meadows listening, You who've heard the bells Ringing to a christening; You who ever heard Caradori pretty, Smiling like an angel, Singing "Giovinetti;"

Fancy Peggy's laugh, Sweet, and clear, and cheerful, At my pantaloons With half a pint of beer full!

When the laugh was done, Peg, the pretty hussy, Moved about the room Wonderfully busy; Now she looks to see If the kettle keep hot; Now she rubs the spoons, Now she cleans the teapot; Now she sets the cups Trimly and secure: Now she scours a pot, And so it was I drew her.

Thus it was I drew her Scouring of a kettle, (Faith! her blushing cheeks Redden'd on the metal!) Ah! but 'tis in vain That I try to sketch it; The pot perhaps is like, But Peggy's face is wretched.

No the best of lead And of indian-rubber Never could depict That sweet kettle-scrubber!

See her as she moves Scarce the ground she touches, Airy as a fay, Graceful as a d.u.c.h.ess; Bare her rounded arm, Bare her little leg is, Vestris never show'd Ankles like to Peggy's.

Braided is her hair, Soft her look and modest, Slim her little waist Comfortably bodiced.

This I do declare, Happy is the laddy Who the heart can share Of Peg of Limavaddy.