Verses and Translations Part 1

Verses and Translations.

by C. S. C.

VISIONS.

"She was a phantom," &c.

In lone Glenartney's thickets lies couched the lordly stag, The dreaming terrier's tail forgets its customary wag; And plodding ploughmen's weary steps insensibly grow quicker, As broadening cas.e.m.e.nts light them on towards home, or home-brewed liquor.

It is (in fact) the evening--that pure and pleasant time, When stars break into splendour, and poets into rhyme; When in the gla.s.s of Memory the forms of loved ones shine - And when, of course, Miss Goodchild's is prominent in mine.

Miss Goodchild!--Julia Goodchild!--how graciously you smiled Upon my childish pa.s.sion once, yourself a fair-haired child: When I was (no doubt) profiting by Dr. Crabb's instruction, And sent those streaky lollipops home for your fairy suction!

"She wore" her natural "roses, the night when first we met" - Her golden hair was gleaming 'neath the coercive net: "Her brow was like the snawdrift," her step was like Queen Mab's, And gone was instantly the heart of every boy at Crabb's.

The parlour-boarder cha.s.seed tow'rds her on graceful limb; The onyx decked his bosom--but her smiles were not for him: With ME she danced--till drowsily her eyes "began to blink,"

And _I_ brought raisin wine, and said, "Drink, pretty creature, drink!"

And evermore, when winter comes in his garb of snows, And the returning schoolboy is told how fast he grows; Shall I--with that soft hand in mine--enact ideal Lancers, And dream I hear demure remarks, and make impa.s.sioned answers:-

I know that never, never may her love for me return - At night I muse upon the fact with undisguised concern - But ever shall I bless that day: (I don't bless, as a rule, The days I spent at "Dr. Crabb's Preparatory School.")

And yet--we two MAY meet again--(Be still, my throbbing heart!) - Now rolling years have weaned us from jam and raspberry tart:- One night I saw a vision--'Twas when musk-roses bloom I stood--WE stood--upon a rug, in a sumptuous dining-room:

One hand clasped hers--one easily reposed upon my hip - And "BLESS YE!" burst abruptly from Mr. Goodchild's lip: I raised my br.i.m.m.i.n.g eye, and saw in hers an answering gleam - My heart beat wildly--and I woke, and lo! it was a dream.

GEMINI AND VIRGO.

Some vast amount of years ago, Ere all my youth had vanished from me, A boy it was my lot to know, Whom his familiar friends called Tommy.

I love to gaze upon a child; A young bud bursting into blossom; Artless, as Eve yet unbeguiled, And agile as a young opossum:

And such was he. A calm-browed lad, Yet mad, at moments, as a hatter: Why hatters as a race are mad I never knew, nor does it matter.

He was what nurses call a 'limb;'

One of those small misguided creatures, Who, though their intellects are dim, Are one too many for their teachers:

And, if you asked of him to say What twice 10 was, or 3 times 7, He'd glance (in quite a placid way) From heaven to earth, from earth to heaven:

And smile, and look politely round, To catch a casual suggestion; But make no effort to propound Any solution of the question.

And so not much esteemed was he Of the authorities: and therefore He fraternized by chance with me, Needing a somebody to care for:

And three fair summers did we twain Live (as they say) and love together; And bore by turns the wholesome cane Till our young skins became as leather:

And carved our names on every desk, And tore our clothes, and inked our collars; And looked unique and picturesque, But not, it may be, model scholars.

We did much as we chose to do; We'd never heard of Mrs. Grundy; All the theology we knew Was that we mightn't play on Sunday;

And all the general truths, that cakes Were to be bought at four a-penny, And that excruciating aches Resulted if we ate too many:

And seeing ignorance is bliss, And wisdom consequently folly, The obvious result is this - That our two lives were very jolly.

At last the separation came.

Real love, at that time, was the fashion; And by a horrid chance, the same Young thing was, to us both, a pa.s.sion.

Old POSER snorted like a horse: His feet were large, his hands were pimply, His manner, when excited, coa.r.s.e:- But Miss P. was an angel simply.

She was a blushing gushing thing; All--more than all--my fancy painted; Once--when she helped me to a wing Of goose--I thought I should have fainted.

The people said that she was blue: But I was green, and loved her dearly.

She was approaching thirty-two; And I was then eleven, nearly.

I did not love as others do; (None ever did that I've heard tell of;) My pa.s.sion was a byword through The town she was, of course, the belle of.

Oh sweet--as to the toilworn man The far-off sound of rippling river; As to cadets in Hindostan The fleeting remnant of their liver -

To me was ANNA; dear as gold That fills the miser's sunless coffers; As to the spinster, growing old, The thought--the dream--that she had offers.

I'd sent her little gifts of fruit; I'd written lines to her as Venus; I'd sworn unflinchingly to shoot The man who dared to come between us:

And it was you, my Thomas, you, The friend in whom my soul confided, Who dared to gaze on her--to do, I may say, much the same as I did.

One night I SAW him squeeze her hand; There was no doubt about the matter; I said he must resign, or stand My vengeance--and he chose the latter.

We met, we 'planted' blows on blows: We fought as long as we were able: My rival had a bottle-nose, And both my speaking eyes were sable.

When the school-bell cut short our strife, Miss P. gave both of us a plaster; And in a week became the wife Of Horace Nibbs, the writing-master.

I loved her then--I'd love her still, Only one must not love Another's: But thou and I, my Tommy, will, When we again meet, meet as brothers.

It may be that in age one seeks Peace only: that the blood is brisker In boy's veins, than in theirs whose cheeks Are partially obscured by whisker;

Or that the growing ages steal The memories of past wrongs from us.

But this is certain--that I feel Most friendly unto thee, oh Thomas!

And wheresoe'er we meet again, On this or that side the equator, If I've not turned teetotaller then, And have wherewith to pay the waiter,

To thee I'll drain the modest cup, Ignite with thee the mild Havannah; And we will waft, while liquoring up, Forgiveness to the heartless ANNA.