Vagabond and Other Poems from Punch | Page 5

set?His table out on the well-stones wet.?"Who'll buy? Who'll buy?" was the call he cried?As the folk came flocking from every side;?For they knew their Gipsy Joe of old,?His free wild words and his laughter bold:?So high and low all gathered together?By the village well in the autumn weather,?Lured by the gipsy's bargain-chatter?And the reckless lilt of his hare-brained patter.?And there the Revd. Salvyn Bent,?The parish church's ornament,?Stood, as it chanced, in discontent,?And eyed with a look that was almost sinister?The Revd. Joshua Fall, the minister.?And the Squire, it happened, was riding by,?With an angry look in his bloodshot eye,?Growling, as was his wont, and grunting?At the wasted toil of a bad day's hunting;?And he stopped his horse on its homeward way?To hear what the gipsy had to say.
III
Then the pedlar called to the crowd to hear,?And his voice rang loud and his voice rang clear;?And he lifted his head and began to troll?The whimsical words of his rigmarole:--
"_Since last I talked to you here I've hurled?My lone way over the wide, wide world.?South and North and West and East?I've fought with man and I've fought with beast_;?_And I've opened the gates and cleared the bar?That blocks the road to the morning star!_
"_I've seen King Pharaoh sitting down?On his golden throne in his jewelled crown,?With wizards fanning like anything?To cool the face of the mighty King:?But the King said, 'Wizards are off,' said he;?'Let Joseph the gipsy talk to me.'_
"_So I sat by the King and began to spout?As the day drew in and the sun went out;?And I sat by the King and spun my tale?Till the light returned and the night grew pale;?And none of the Wizards blinked or stirred?While the King sat drinking it word by word._
"_Then he gave me rubies and diamonds old;?He gave me masses of minted gold.?He gave me all that a King can give:?The right to live and to cease to live?Whenever--and that'll be soon, I know--?The days are numbered of Gipsy Joe._
"_Then I went and I wandered on and on?Till I came to the kingdom of Prester John;?And there I stood on a crystal stool?And sang the song of 'The First Wise Fool':?Oh, I sang it low and I sang it high?Till John he whimpered and piped his eye._
"_Then I drew a tooth from the lively jaw?Of the Prester's ebony Aunt-in-law;?And he bubbled and laughed so long, d'you see,?That his wife looked glum and I had to flee.?So I fled to the place where the Rajahs grow,?A place where they wanted Gipsy Joe._
"_The Rajahs summoned the turbaned hordes?And gave me sheaves of their inlaid swords;?And the Shah of Persia next I saw,?Who's brother and friend to the Big Bashaw;?And he sent me a rope of turquoise stones?The size of a giant's knuckle-bones._
"_But a little brown Pygmie took my hand?And rattled me fast to a silver strand,?Where the little brown Pygmie boys and girls?Are cradled and rocked to sleep in pearls._?_And the Pygmies flattered me soft and low,?'You are tall; be King of us, Gipsy Joe.'_
"_I governed them well for half-a-year,?But it came to an end, and now I'm here.?Oh, I've opened the gates and cleared the bar,?And I've come, I've come to my friends from far.?I'm old and broken, I'm lame and tired,?But I've come to the friends my soul desired._
"_So it's watches and lockets, and who will buy??It's ribbon and lace, and they're not priced high.?If you're out for a ring or a golden chain?You can't look over my tray in vain:?And here is a balsam made of drops?From a tree that's grown by the AEthiops!_
"_I've a chip of the tooth of a mastodont?That's sure to give you the girl you want.?I've a packet of spells to make men sigh?For the lustrous glance of your liquid eye--?But it's much too dark for such wondrous wares,?So back, stand back, while I light my flares!_"
Then he lit a match, but his fingers fumbled,?And, striking his foot on a stone, he stumbled;?And the match, released by the sudden shock,?Fell in flame on the old wood-block,?And burnt there very quietly--?But before you could have counted three,?Hardly giving you time to shout,?A red-blue column of fire shot out,?Up and up and ever higher,?A marvellous burst of raging fire,?Lighting the crowd that shrank from its flashes,
And so decreasing,?And suddenly ceasing?As the seat of St. Crag was burnt to ashes!
But in the smoke that drifted on the Green?Queer freaks of vision weirdly wrought were seen:?For on that shifting background each one saw?His own reflection and recoiled in awe;?Saw himself there, a bright light shining through him,?Not as he thought himself, but as men knew him.?Before this sudden and revealing sense?Each rag of sham, each tatter of pretence?Withered and vanished, as dissolved in air,?And left the shuddering human creature bare.?But when they turned and looked upon a friend?They saw