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Thick were its walls, and dark and cold
The swift Rhine ran below them.
Why-into its waters he'd throw them!
But stories will spread, howe'er you may try
While his former bad temper began to grow worse,
curse ; But his feelings I'll try to describe in the verse Most used by our Alfred—not Bunn, though, but
Very early in the morning would he, tumbling out of
bed, Mow his chin with wretched razor, mow and hack it
till it bled ; Then he'd curse the harmless cutler, heap upon him
curses deepCurse him in his hour of waking, doubly curse him in
his sleepSaying " Mechi! O my Mechi! O my Mechi, mine no
more, Whither's fled that brilliant sharpness which thy razors
had of yore,
Ere thou quittedst Leadenhall-street, quittedst it with
many a qualmEre thou soughtest rustic Tiptree, Tiptree and its inodel
farm? Many a morning, by the mirror, did I pass thee o'cr my
smooth beneath thee, of its hairy harvest cleared ; Many an evening have I drawn thee 'cross the throats of
wretched Jews, When they, trembling, showed their purses, stuffed for
safety in their shoes. But, like mine, thy day is over-thou art blunt and
I'm disgraced ! Curses on thy maker's projects, curses on his 'magic
paste. Thus he grurnbled all day, from morning till nightNo person could please him, no conduct was right Till his very retainers grew furious quite,
And determined to quit his service. For much afflicted was Seneschal Hans; While the groom from York told the cook from France “He warn't going to be led such a precious dance
In a house turned topsy-turvies.
Oh, “the castled crag of Drachenfels,"
Who leave the squares of Belgravia,
Though the last “ don't like the flavour."
But Drachenfels was a different sight,
And above it the storm-fiend strode :
On such a night, from his own red room,
Or be coming up the road.
host they seemed, And Sir Rupert's heart grew lighter, and his eye more
brightly beamed; For many a day had passed away since he a prize had
llon, And no hand had touched his bell save that of
poursuivant or dun.
“Now haste ye,” he cried," throw open the gate,
And let the drawbridge fall;"
Ran off to the warden tall.
The drawbridge falls, and the company cross,
By the way, this last rhyme
Appertains to a time
Are emptied for rockets,
ketsWhen you're begged (and the tyrants take care you do
not) Ne'er to cease to remember the Gunpowder-plot.
The herald stept forth, and he made a low bow
If you've seen Mr. Payne
At Old Drury Lane, In the opening part of a grand Christmas Pantomime, Do tricks, to describe which my Muse fails for want o'
rhyme Please to fancy my herald does just the same now; And his trumpet he blows, and his throat well he
“Sir Rupert the Red,
To you I have sped From a dame with whose brother you've conquered and
bled, Who, benighted by chance in this dismal locality, Has ventured to ask for a night's hospitality.
No refusal I fear
When her name you once hear; Therefore learn that the dame for whom shelter I
crave, Is Margaret, the sister of Blutworst the Brave !"
Thus spake the gay herald. Sir Rupert replied,
The sister of one
Whom I loved as a son, For whose tragical end I have ne'er ceased to grieve.”
Thus much to the herald. Then, turning, he said, “Off, Wilhelm, at once, let the banquet be spread ; Bring up some Moselles and some red Assmanshau
sers, Fritz, lay out my doublet and new Paris trousers,
Tell Gretchen to hasten and clear out the bedroom
To put her in there
Is more than I dare;
And take care nat, as soon as the cloth is removed,
Old Max, of whose singing I oft have approved, Comes up with his harp, he will serve to amuse."
The banquet is spread;
At his table's head,
And close on his right
Is the queen of the night,
Addicted to laughing,
half-ing, And gambling, and vices called “having your fling"),
Exclaimed to Hans König (in English, Jack King), “By Jove, Hans, the gov'nor's hit under the wing!"