R. F. Murray [30]
`but brothers' blood is thin! And why should ours be thicker that are neither kith nor kin?' They spurred their horses in the flank, and swiftly thence they passed, But Walter Tyrrel lingered and forsook his liege the last.
They say it was enchantment, that fixed him to the scene, To look upon his traitor's work, and so it may have been. But presently he got to horse, and took the seaward way, And all alone within the glade, in state the Red King lay.
Then a creaking cart came slowly, which a charcoal-burner drove. He found the dead man lying, a ghastly treasure-trove; He raised the corpse for charity, and on his wagon laid, And so the Red King drove in state from out the forest glade.
His hair was like a yellow flame about the bloated face, The blood had stained his tunic from the fatal arrow-place. Not good to look upon was he, in life, nor yet when dead. The driver of the cart drove on, and never turned his head.
When next the nobles throng at night the royal banquet-hall, Another King will rule the feast, the drinking and the brawl, While Walter Tyrrel walks alone upon the Norman shore, And the Red King in the forest will chase the deer no more.
AFTER WATERLOO
On the field of Waterloo we made Napoleon rue That ever out of Elba he decided for to come, For we finished him that day, and he had to run away, And yield himself to Maitland on the Billy-ruffium.
`Twas a stubborn fight, no doubt, and the fortune wheeled about, And the brave Mossoos kept coming most uncomfortable near, And says Wellington the hero, as his hopes went down to zero, `I wish to God that Blooker or the night was only here!'
But Blooker came at length, and we broke Napoleon's strength, And the flower of his army--that's the old Imperial Guard - They made a final sally, but they found they could not rally, And at last they broke and fled, after fighting bitter hard.
Now Napoleon he had thought, when a British ship he sought, And gave himself uncalled-for, in a manner, you might say, He'd be treated like a king with the best of every thing, And maybe have a palace for to live in every day.
He was treated very well, as became a noble swell, But we couldn't leave him loose, not in Europe anywhere, For we knew he would be making some gigantic undertaking, While the trustful British lion was reposing in his lair.
We tried him once before near the European shore, Having planted him in Elba, where he promised to remain, But when he saw his chance, why, he bolted off to France, And he made a lot of trouble--but it wouldn't do again.
Says the Prince to him, `You know, far away you'll have to go, To a pleasant little island off the coast of Africay, Where they tell me that the view of the ocean deep and blue, Is remarkable extensive, and it's there you'll have to stay.'
So Napoleon wiped his eye, and he wished the Prince good-bye, And being stony-broke, made the best of it he could, And they kept him snugly pensioned, where his Royal Highness mentioned, And Napoleon Boneyparty is provided for for good.
Now of that I don't complain, but I ask and ask in vain, Why me, a British soldier, as has lost a useful arm Through fighting of the foe, when the trumpets ceased to blow, Should be forced to feed the pigs on a little Surrey farm,
While him as fought with us, and created such a fuss, And in the whole of Europe did a mighty deal of harm, Should be kept upon a rock, like a precious fighting cock, And be found in beer and baccy, which would suit me to a charm?
DEATH AT THE WINDOW
This morning, while we sat in talk Of spring and apple-bloom, Lo! Death stood in the garden walk, And peered into the room.
Your back was turned, you did not see The shadow that he made. He bent his head and looked at me; It made my soul afraid.
The words I had begun to speak Fell broken in the air. You saw the pallor of my cheek, And turned--but none was there.
He came as sudden as a thought, And so departed too. What made him leave his task unwrought? It was the sight of you.
Though Death but seldom turns aside
They say it was enchantment, that fixed him to the scene, To look upon his traitor's work, and so it may have been. But presently he got to horse, and took the seaward way, And all alone within the glade, in state the Red King lay.
Then a creaking cart came slowly, which a charcoal-burner drove. He found the dead man lying, a ghastly treasure-trove; He raised the corpse for charity, and on his wagon laid, And so the Red King drove in state from out the forest glade.
His hair was like a yellow flame about the bloated face, The blood had stained his tunic from the fatal arrow-place. Not good to look upon was he, in life, nor yet when dead. The driver of the cart drove on, and never turned his head.
When next the nobles throng at night the royal banquet-hall, Another King will rule the feast, the drinking and the brawl, While Walter Tyrrel walks alone upon the Norman shore, And the Red King in the forest will chase the deer no more.
AFTER WATERLOO
On the field of Waterloo we made Napoleon rue That ever out of Elba he decided for to come, For we finished him that day, and he had to run away, And yield himself to Maitland on the Billy-ruffium.
`Twas a stubborn fight, no doubt, and the fortune wheeled about, And the brave Mossoos kept coming most uncomfortable near, And says Wellington the hero, as his hopes went down to zero, `I wish to God that Blooker or the night was only here!'
But Blooker came at length, and we broke Napoleon's strength, And the flower of his army--that's the old Imperial Guard - They made a final sally, but they found they could not rally, And at last they broke and fled, after fighting bitter hard.
Now Napoleon he had thought, when a British ship he sought, And gave himself uncalled-for, in a manner, you might say, He'd be treated like a king with the best of every thing, And maybe have a palace for to live in every day.
He was treated very well, as became a noble swell, But we couldn't leave him loose, not in Europe anywhere, For we knew he would be making some gigantic undertaking, While the trustful British lion was reposing in his lair.
We tried him once before near the European shore, Having planted him in Elba, where he promised to remain, But when he saw his chance, why, he bolted off to France, And he made a lot of trouble--but it wouldn't do again.
Says the Prince to him, `You know, far away you'll have to go, To a pleasant little island off the coast of Africay, Where they tell me that the view of the ocean deep and blue, Is remarkable extensive, and it's there you'll have to stay.'
So Napoleon wiped his eye, and he wished the Prince good-bye, And being stony-broke, made the best of it he could, And they kept him snugly pensioned, where his Royal Highness mentioned, And Napoleon Boneyparty is provided for for good.
Now of that I don't complain, but I ask and ask in vain, Why me, a British soldier, as has lost a useful arm Through fighting of the foe, when the trumpets ceased to blow, Should be forced to feed the pigs on a little Surrey farm,
While him as fought with us, and created such a fuss, And in the whole of Europe did a mighty deal of harm, Should be kept upon a rock, like a precious fighting cock, And be found in beer and baccy, which would suit me to a charm?
DEATH AT THE WINDOW
This morning, while we sat in talk Of spring and apple-bloom, Lo! Death stood in the garden walk, And peered into the room.
Your back was turned, you did not see The shadow that he made. He bent his head and looked at me; It made my soul afraid.
The words I had begun to speak Fell broken in the air. You saw the pallor of my cheek, And turned--but none was there.
He came as sudden as a thought, And so departed too. What made him leave his task unwrought? It was the sight of you.
Though Death but seldom turns aside