"And I eat that cook in a week or less, And as I eating be The last of his chops, why, I almost drops, "And I never larf, and I never smile, And I never lark nor play, But sit and croak, and a single joke which is to say: I have "Oh, I am a cook and a captain bold, W. S. GILBERT. 56 HOME, SWEET HOME. 'Mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam, There's no place like home. An exile from home, pleasures dazzle in vain: Give me them with that peace of mind dearer than all. There's no place like home. JOHN HOWARD PAYNE. 57. THE CHILD MUSICIAN. He had played for his lordship's levee, And the poor little brain would swim. And the face grew peaked and eerie, And the large eyes strange and bright, But at dawn, when the birds were waking, 'Twas a string of his violoncello, was the last that he said. 58. DON JOSE'S MULE, JACINTHA. In palmy days, now long gone by, no Don in Cadiz city Once Don José had lived gaily, and then his servants all, From the head-cook in the kitchen to Jacintha in her stall, On every dainty fattened but oh! there came a fall To Don José's mule, Jacintha. Once Don José's purse was well filled, but his hand was ever ready To his brothers and his nephews, who were spendthrifts and unsteady "O my master, unwise givers sure at last themselves grow needy !” Thought Don José's mule, Jacintha. True enough, there came a morning when the Alcayde's men were laying Hands on all Don José's chattels, for there seemed no way of paying Otherwise his debts and bond-writs; then, oh, sorrowful the braying Of Don José's mule, Jacintha. Poor Don José's house was ransacked of its treasures old and new, Pictures, gems, and suits of armour, gold and relics from Peru: Nothing spared they, even taking all the trappings red and blue Of Don José's mule, Jacintha. But Don José was hildalgo of the true Quixotic spirit If misfortune were upon him, far too proud was he to fear it; And quite worthy such a master, for the same heroic merit, Was Don José's mule, Jacintha. With a stately contemplation glanced Don José on his villa Glanced on every grove of myrtle and on every marble pillar; Thought of sunny olive vineyard and of luscious, well-filled cellar Then of his mule, Jacintha. Said Don José, "Not for fountains, nor for halls of gilded stone Was man's soul made, nor for riches, nor for meat and drink alone, But for grateful, true affection and no other man shall own Don José's mule, Jacintha." He continued contemplating, meantime smiling somewhat sadly "Ah! 'tis well my servants left me scanty fare would suit them badly; But there's one who bore me up-hill, and will bear me down as gladly 'Tis Don José's mule, Jacintha. "She can do without her trappings; she'll not rage because her ration Comes at every meal-time shorter than her humblest expectation; Scorn she'll never dream of showing at my ruined situation Will Don José's mule, Jacintha. "She'll not tell me I was foolish advice; she'll not preach her own and no gold shall be She'll not constantly upbraid me in a half-condoling voice; Of Don José's mule, Jacintha." Then Don José mounted gaily, though his secret heart was swelling, And the two together travelled to a humble little dwelling: Said the Don, "For consolation, give me that which has no telling, Like Don José's mule, Jacintha's!" Night and morning came Don José to Jacintha's modest stable, And his thin white hands would groom her with the skill that they were able, And the largest share of salad, from her master's scanty table, Had Don José's mule, Jacintha. Every day he took an airing, and no king could sit more stately: Then Jacintha's ears pricked proudly, and she moved her legs sedately; Oh, never fallen greatness was upheld by mule so greatly As Don José by Jacintha. Neither trotting, neither ambling, was her sober, saddened pace, When Don José empty-handed came unto the stable door, Very solemn grew Jacintha, suiting thus her master's mood; Very bare-ribbed grew Jacintha, but her head was never bowed, "We'll die like true Castilians," was the maxim staunch and proud Of Don José's mule, Jacintha. True enough, there broke a morning when the thin hand came no more, With its scanty bunch of parsley, to Jacintha's stable door; Then as one who lies down gladly when a hard day's work is o'er, Lay Don José's mule, Jacintha. Softly then, the snow-flakes hurried from the passing winter clouds, And the master and the servant wrapped in white, unspotted shrouds, Till the spring-time brought the wild flowers, and they bloom in coloured crowds, O'er Don José and Jacintha. M. BETHAM-EDWARDS. 59. CLEAR AND COOL. Clear and cool, clear and cool, By shining shingle, and foaming weir; And the ivied wall where the church-bell rings, Play by me, bathe in me, mother and child. |