The Book of Ballads Part 3

Faint and failing! Up he vaulteth, Fresh as when he first began; All in coat of bright vermilion, 'Quipped as Shaw, the Lifeguardsman; Right and left his whizzing broadsword, Like a st.u.r.dy flail, he throws; Cutting out a path unto thee Through imaginary foes.

Woolfordinez! speed thee onward!

He is hard upon thy track,-- Paralysed is Widdicombez, Nor 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;

Leaps from out his nether garments, And his leathern stock unties-- As the flower of London's dustmen, Now in swift pursuit he flies.

Nimbly now he cuts and shuffles, O'er the buckle, heel and toe!

Flaps his hands in his side-pockets, Winks to all the throng below!

Onward, onward rush the coursers; Woolfordinez, peerless girl, O'er the garters lightly bounding From her steed with airy whirl!

Gomersalez, wild with pa.s.sion, Danger--all but her--forgets; Wheresoe'er she flies, pursues her, Casting clouds of somersets!

Onward, onward 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, And his feet aloft he tosses, Holding stoutly by the mane!

Then, his feet once more regaining, Doffs his jacket, doffs 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 see with rapture Maia's nimble son before them.

Speed thee, speed thee, Woolfordinez!

For a panting G.o.d pursues; And the chalk is very nearly Rubbed from thy white satin shoes; Every bosom throbs with terror, You might hear a pin to drop; All is hushed, save where a starting Cork gives out a casual pop.

One smart lash across his courser, One tremendous bound and stride, And our n.o.ble Cid was standing By his Woolfordinez' side!

With a G.o.d's embrace he clasps her, Raised her in his manly arms; And the stables' closing barriers Hid his valour, and her charms!

AMERICAN BALLADS

The Fight with the Snapping Turtle; _or_, _The 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.

Riled, 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 will 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 just fix the critter.

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 Which I go to wage to-day."

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 n.o.ble task!

Han'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 Rose above the waters high, And took down the alligator, As a trout takes down a fly.

"'Tarnal death! the Snapping Turtle!"

Thus the squire in terror cried; But the n.o.ble Slingsby straightway Drew the toothpick from his side.

"Fare thee well!" he cried, and dashing Through the waters, strongly swam: Meanwhile, Cullen 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 'c.o.o.n, is Slingsby, And the brandy's nearly done!"

FYTTE SECOND.

In 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 Sounds of frequent coughing rolled, Just as if the huge Cawana Had a most confounded cold.

On the banks lay Cullen Bryant, As the second moon arose, Gouging on the sloping greensward Some imaginary foes;

When the swamp began to tremble, And the canes to rustle fast, As though some stupendous body Through their roots were crushing past.

And the waters boiled and bubbled, And, in groups of twos and threes, Several alligators bounded, Smart as squirrels, up the trees.