Fly Leaves | Page 5

fought--by good St. Catharine, 'twas a fearsome sight to see The coal-black crest, the glowering orbs, of one gigantic He. Like bow by some tall bowman bent at Hastings or Poictiers, His huge back curved, till none observed a vestige of his ears:
He stood, an ebon crescent, flouting that ivory moon;?Then raised the pibroch of his race, the Song without a Tune; Gleam'd his white teeth, his mammoth tail waved darkly to and fro, As with one complex yell he burst, all claws, upon the foe.
It thrills me now, that final Miaow--that weird unearthly din: Lone maidens heard it far away, and leap'd out of their skin. A potboy from his den o'erhead peep'd with a scared wan face; Then sent a random brickbat down, which knock'd me into space.
Nine days I fell, or thereabouts: and, had we not nine lives, I wis I ne'er had seen again thy sausage-shop, St. Ives!?Had I, as some cats have, nine tails, how gladly I would lick The hand, and person generally, of him who heaved that brick!
For me they fill the milkbowl up, and cull the choice sardine: But ah! I nevermore shall be the cat I once have been!?The memories of that fatal night they haunt me even now:?In dreams I see that rampant He, and tremble at that Miaow.
COMPANIONS.?A TALE OF A GRANDFATHER.?BY THE AUTHOR OF "DEWY MEMORIES," &c.
I know not of what we ponder'd
Or made pretty pretence to talk,?As, her hand within mine, we wander'd
Tow'rd the pool by the limetree walk,?While the dew fell in showers from the passion flowers
And the blush-rose bent on her stalk.
I cannot recall her figure:
Was it regal as Juno's own??Or only a trifle bigger
Than the elves who surround the throne?Of the Faery Queen, and are seen, I ween,
By mortals in dreams alone?
What her eyes were like, I know not:
Perhaps they were blurr'd with tears;?And perhaps in your skies there glow not
(On the contrary) clearer spheres.?No! as to her eyes I am just as wise
As you or the cat, my dears.
Her teeth, I presume, were "pearly":
But which was she, brunette or blonde??Her hair, was it quaintly curly,
Or as straight as a beadle's wand??That I fail'd to remark;--it was rather dark
And shadowy round the pond.
Then the hand that reposed so snugly
In mine--was it plump or spare??Was the countenance fair or ugly?
Nay, children, you have me there!?MY eyes were p'raps blurr'd; and besides I'd heard
That it's horribly rude to stare.
And I--was I brusque and surly?
Or oppressively bland and fond??Was I partial to rising early?
Or why did we twain abscond,?All breakfastless too, from the public view
To prowl by a misty pond?
What pass'd, what was felt or spoken -
Whether anything pass'd at all -?And whether the heart was broken
That beat under that shelt'ring shawl -?(If shawl she had on, which I doubt)--has gone,
Yes, gone from me past recall.
Was I haply the lady's suitor?
Or her uncle? I can't make out -?Ask your governess, dears, or tutor.
For myself, I'm in hopeless doubt?As to why we were there, who on earth we were,
And what this is all about.
BALLAD.
The auld wife sat at her ivied door,
(Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese)?A thing she had frequently done before;
And her spectacles lay on her apron'd 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 ask'd "Why?"
And the dog said nothing, but search'd for fleas.
The farmer he strode through the square farmyard;
(Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese)?His last brew of ale was a trifle hard -
The connexion of which with the plot one sees.
The farmer's daughter hath frank blue eyes;
(Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese)?She hears the rooks caw in the windy skies,
As she sits at her lattice and shells her peas.
The farmer's daughter hath ripe red lips;
(Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese)?If you try to approach her, away she skips
Over tables and chairs with apparent ease.
The farmer's daughter hath soft brown hair;
(Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese)?And I met with a ballad, I can't say where,
Which wholly consisted of lines like these.
PART II.
She sat with her hands 'neath her dimpled cheeks,
(Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese)?And spake not a word. While a lady speaks
There is hope, but she didn't even sneeze.
She sat, with her hands 'neath her crimson cheeks;
(Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese)?She gave up mending her father's breeks,
And let the cat roll in her new chemise.
She sat, with her hands 'neath her burning cheeks,
(Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese)?And gazed at the piper for thirteen weeks;
Then she follow'd him out o'er the misty leas.
Her sheep follow'd her, as their tails did them.
(Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese)?And this song is consider'd a perfect gem,
And as to the meaning, it's what you