{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_52103/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_52103","id":"gutenberg_52103","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/52103","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Children & Young Adult Reading","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Poetry","Children's poetry","Fairy tales","Stories in rhyme"],"text":"_Lately Published, price 5s., or with Plates on\n    India, 7s. 6d._\n\n    ILLUSTRATED WITH ETCHINGS BY\n    GEORGE CRUIKSHANK\n\n    THE\n    BEE AND THE WASP\n\n    A FABLE IN VERSE\n\n    [Illustration]\n\n    BASIL MONTAGU PICKERING\n\n    196 PICCADILLY LONDON W.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nLays of Ancient Babyland\n\n_to which are added_\n\ndivers small Histories\n\nnot known to the\n\n_Ancients_.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n    Lays of Ancient Babyland\n\n    to which are added\n\n    DIVERS SMALL HISTORIES\n\n    not known to the\n\n    ANCIENTS\n\n    _Dedicated, with much respect, but without\n    permission, to the_\n\n    BABIES OF ENGLAND\n\n    [Illustration: ALDI\n\n    DISCIP.\n\n    ANGLVS]\n\n\n    LONDON\n\n    BASIL M. PICKERING, 196, PICCADILLY\n\n    1857\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n                     TO AUGUSTA MARY,\n\n    _for whose amusement the following stories were\n               from time to time written,_\n\n                    THIS LITTLE VOLUME,\n\n    _in which they are now collected, is inscribed\n              for a memorial of the happy\n                  days of her earliest\n                       childhood._\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS.\n\n\n    Whittington and his Cat          1\n    The Three Wishes                33\n    Little Red-riding-hood          43\n    Jack the Giant-killer           55\n\n\n    DIVERS SMALL HISTORIES\n\n    The Vain Mouse                  79\n    Cock Robin and Jenny Wren       83\n    The Proud Eagle                 87\n    Young Lumpkin\u2019s Hy\u00e6na           91\n    The Young Thrushes              95\n    M. P., or the Magpie           101\n    The Pigeon and the Hen         105\n    The Oyster and the Muscle      109\n\n\n\n\n    The True History of\n    MAISTER WHITTINGTON\n    AND HIS CAT.\n\n    _As it is spoken or sung in the streets of the\n    great city of London on the ninth\n    day of November._\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nWhittington and his Cat.\n\n\n    God prosper long our good Lord Mayor,\n      And give him wealth and wit!\n    A little wisdom too mote well\n      His judgement-seat befit.\n\n    Come listen all ye prentice lads,\n      Sore set to drudge and fast,\n    How that good luck and industrie\n      Will make a man at last.\n\n[Sidenote: Whittington,]\n\n    When our third Edward ruled the land,\n      A king of glorious fame,\n    An humble boy there lived also,\n      Dick Whittington by name.\n\n[Sidenote: an orphan boy,]\n\n    His father and his mother too\n      Were laid beneath the sod:\n    But he was left, and all alone\n      The path of misery trod.\n\n[Sidenote: destitute,]\n\n    No woollen hose wore he, nor shoes\n      Upon his shivering feet;\n    A tatter\u2019d cloak was all he had\n      To ward the rain and sleet.\n\n    Yet, though his breast was cold without,\n      His heart was warm within;\n    And he grumbled not, for well he wot\n      That envy is a sin.\n\n[Sidenote: but industrious,]\n\n    And he would fight with all his might\n      To earn his daily bread:\n    Alas, to think how oft he went\n      All supperless to bed!\n\n[Sidenote: had heard great reports of London.]\n\n    Now he had heard of London town,\n      And what the folks did there:\n    How aldermen did eat and drink,\n      And plenty had to spare.\n\n    And how the streets were full of shops,\n      And shops were full of food;\n    Of beef, and mutton, cheese and ham,\n      And every thing that\u2019s good.\n\n    And how the men and women all\n      Were lords and ladies there;\n    And little boys were rigg\u2019d as smart\n      As monkeys at a fair.\n\n    But what most wonderful did seem,\n      Of all he had heard told,\n    Was how the streets of that great town\n      Were paved with solid gold.\n\n[Sidenote: Resolved to get there,]\n\n    Heyday! thought he, if only I\n      Could get to that fine place!\n    \u2019Twould not be long ere I would change\n      My miserable case.\n\n[Sidenote: he makes his way on foot.]\n\n    Now started off for London town\n      Before the break of day,\n    He fared beside a waggoner\n      Who drove his team that way.\n\n    All day they trudged until the sun\n      Had sunk behind the hill;\n    And when he rose again next morn\n      He saw them trudging still.\n\n[Sidenote: His joy to behold that land of plenty.]\n\n    At length a multitudinous smoke\n      Hid half th\u2019 horizon round:\n    And such a sight of chimney-pots!\n      Dick gaped with joy and stound.\n\n    He thought how often he had lain\n      Beneath the cold damp air;\n    While here was house-room sure for all,\n      And fires i\u2019faith to spare.\n\n    \u2019Twere hard indeed if one should need\n      A chimney-corner here:\n    And from the drays that block\u2019d the ways\n      Small lack could be of beer.\n\n    \u2019Twas thus thought Dick, and so full quick\n      The waggoner he left;\n    And was not long, ere thro\u2019 the throng\n      His nimble way he cleft.\n\n[Sidenote: His subsequent disappointment;]\n\n    Thro\u2019 street, thro\u2019 lane, full fast he ran;\n      But marvell\u2019d to behold\n    The ways all strown with dirt and stone,\n      And not with solid gold.\n\n    And folks were not all lords he thought,\n      Nor ladies of degree:\n    For here were rags, and here were tags,\n      As in his own countrie.\n\n[Sidenote: when hungry and cold,]\n\n    Yet, where such plenty seem\u2019d of all\n      A hungry lad mote need,\n    Tho\u2019 rags were there he did not care:\n      He could not fail to speed.\n\n[Sidenote: he is neither fed by the victualler;]\n\n    So at a shop he made a stop:\n      Before his well-spread board\n    The vict\u2019ller stood, in jolly mood;\n      Dick thought he was a lord.\n\n    In cap ydight and waistcoat white\n      He beckon\u2019d folks within;\n    While fumes arose to tell the nose\n      Of all that savoury bin.\n\n    Dick\u2019s joy was great to see the meat;\n      So in he ran with haste:\n    Alas! roast beef is nought but grief\n      To such as may not taste.\n\n    The vict\u2019ller\u2019s eye right scornfully\n      Scann\u2019d Dick from foot to head;\n    Who begg\u2019d, for love of God above,\n      A bit of meat and bread.\n\n    \u201cFor one small groat it may be bought;\n      \u201cI\u2019faith it is not dear:\n    \u201cBut no sirloin withouten coin,\n      \u201cNor room for beggars here.\u201d\n\n    Thereat a pamper\u2019d cur rush\u2019d forth\n      And bit Dick\u2019s naked feet:\n    Who by the wrathful victualler\n      Was shoved into the street.\n\n[Sidenote: nor covered by the clothier;]\n\n    Next shivering in his tatter\u2019d dress\n      He view\u2019d a clothier\u2019s store;\n    But, as he was all penniless,\n      They drove him from the door.\n\n    Ah, tradesmen sleek! ah, Christians meek!\n      Why will ye swell with pride,\n    When ragged want or wretched woe\n      Stands shivering at your side?\n\n[Sidenote: nor even heeded by any body.]\n\n    Alas, poor boy! what could he do?\n      The busy crowd swept past:\n    But all on self intent, or pelf,\n      No eye on him was cast.\n\n    He strove to beg: some heard him not,\n      And some would not believe:\n    Some heard him and believed him too,\n      But yet would not relieve.\n\n[Sidenote: Want most grievous in the midst of plenty.]\n\n    Oh! hunger is a galling thing,\n      Where nought is there to eat;\n    But three times more it galleth sore\n      To starve midst bread and meat.\n\n[Sidenote: At last he is noticed by a merchant-citizen,]\n\n    Now just as Dick all spent and sick\n      Had laid him down to die,\n    A citizen of gentle mien\n      It chanced came walking by.\n\n    A merchant he of high degree,\n      With ruffles all of lace;\n    And Nature\u2019s true nobility\n      Was blazon\u2019d in his face.\n\n[Sidenote: who takes him home, and feeds him.]\n\n    He up did pick and home led Dick,\n      And gave him food to eat:\n    Then sent him to a clean warm bed,\n      Not back into the street.\n\n    \u201cThank God! for that I pass\u2019d that way\n      \u201cThis night,\u201c the good man cried;\n    \u201cFor had I walk\u2019d another way,\n      \u201cPoor boy! he might have died.\u201d\n\n    The morning come, Dick early rose,\n      And thank\u2019d him from his heart;\n    And told him how no friend on earth\n      He had to take his part.\n\n[Sidenote: This merchant becomes his friend.]\n\n    \u201cThen I\u2019m your friend,\u201d the kind man cried,\n      \u201cAnd you shall live with me:\n    \u201cAnd you shall tend my merchandize,\n      \u201cAnd keep my granary.\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: and employs him in his granary;]\n\n    How danced for joy the lucky boy,\n      To see his alter\u2019d plight!\n    He watch\u2019d his granary by day,\n      And lock\u2019d it fast by night.\n\n    Now stored within this granary,\n      Were corn and wine and oil,\n    And cheese and other precious things\n      Which rats and mice do spoil.\n\n[Sidenote: where there lived a cat,]\n\n    So there with Dick ydwelt a cat;\n      A tabby cat was she:\n    As sleek and soft, and eke as fat,\n      As any cat could be.\n\n[Sidenote: of social temper,]\n\n    And she about his legs would purr,\n      And on his knees would sit;\n    And every meal he took, for her\n      He saved a dainty bit.\n\n[Sidenote: and high quality.]\n\n    And not a mouse came near her house\n      But swallow\u2019d was alive:\n    And not a rat but felt her pat:\n      No wonder she did thrive!\n\n[Sidenote: The birth of a kitten:]\n\n    Now scarce three moons had waned and fill\u2019d,\n      Since Dick\u2019s lone hours she cheer\u2019d,\n    When at her side, as Heaven will\u2019d,\n      A kitten there appear\u2019d.\n\n[Sidenote: and Dick\u2019s twofold delight thereafter.]\n\n    Then Dick\u2019s delight was doubled quite;\n      For one may well avouch,\n    Whatever fun there was in one\n      In two was twice as much.\n\n[Sidenote: This kitten\u2019s surpassing beauty,]\n\n    All black and red this kitten\u2019s head\n      Look\u2019d like a polish\u2019d stone:\n    All red and black this kitten\u2019s back\n      Like tortoiseshell it shone.\n\n    Full sure I am that well its dam\n      Might dote on such a kit:\n    The very rats that flee from cats\n      Would stand and stare at it.\n\n[Sidenote: and most pleasant humour.]\n\n    Its tail it whisk\u2019d and leapt and frisk\u2019d,\n      In weather fair and foul:\n    Or cold, or hot, it matter\u2019d not\n      To such a merry soul.\n\n    But who could see such joyful glee\n      And not be joyous too?\n    So Dick forgot his sorry lot\n      And laugh\u2019d as others do.\n\n[Sidenote: Dick acquires his first property.]\n\n    Which when the merchant saw, and how\n      The kitten it was grown,\n    Of his free gift to Whittington\n      He gave it for his own.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nPART II.\n\n    Come listen all, both great and small,\n      Of high and low degree;\n    That ye may know this true story\n      And live in charity.\n\n    As wealth by waste and idle taste\n      Soon falls to penury,\n    So small estate becometh great\n      By luck and industry.\n\n    Content then be in poverty,\n      In wealth of humble mind;\n    Like children of one family\n      To one another kind.\n\n[Sidenote: The venture of the merchant]\n\n    This merchant now in foreign parts\n      A venture fain would make;\n    And all the folk of his household\n      Were free to share the stake.\n\n[Sidenote: joined by each of his domestics.]\n\n    One risk\u2019d a shilling, one a groat,\n      And one a coin of gold;\n    And every one his stake anon\n      To the ship\u2019s captain told.\n\n[Sidenote: Dick\u2019s jesting offer]\n\n    Then half in jest, and half in shame,\n      Dick fetch\u2019d his kitten down:\n    \u201cI too,\u201d he to the captain cried,\n      \u201cWill venture all my own.\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: to the surprise of all]\n\n    The servants laugh\u2019d: Dick would have wept,\n      And therefore laugh\u2019d the more;\n    But soon they stared for wonderment\n      Who laugh\u2019d so loud before.\n\n[Sidenote: taken in earnest by the Captain.]\n\n    For now the Captain, \u201cDone,\u201d he cried,\n      \u201cA bargain by my fay:\u201d\n    And call\u2019d the ship\u2019s-mate in a trice,\n      To stow the cat away.\n\n[Sidenote: The cat is taken aboard.]\n\n    He came so quick, no time had Dick\n      To countervail his joke:\n    So all aboard poor Puss was stored\n      Among the sea-going folk.\n\n[Sidenote: The ship sails.]\n\n    Now from her mooring, all ataut,\n      Put off at turn of tide,\n    Adown the river\u2019s ebbing flood\n      The gallant bark did glide.\n\n    And, like some heavenward-soaring bird,\n      She faced the open seas;\n    And seem\u2019d as sick of land to spread\n      Her wings before the breeze.\n\n[Sidenote: The cat at sea.]\n\n    Then, as she flew, Puss fetch\u2019d a mew,\n      As if to say--poor me!\n    To think that I a land-bred cat\n      Should thus be press\u2019d to sea!\n\n    But, ere a week was past and gone,\n      He changed this plaintive tone,\n    And, like a jolly sailor-boy,\n      Purr\u2019d gaily up and down.\n\n    For lean and fat a ship-board cat\n      He found hath both to spare;\n    And legs by hosts for rubbing posts\n      Are always lounging there.\n\n    And then he oft would run aloft,\n      And just look out to sea;\n    Nor e\u2019er a boy could scream _ahoy_\n      In shriller note than he.\n\n[Sidenote: The ship\u2019s course.]\n\n    The fresh wind blew; the light bark flew,\n      And clear\u2019d the channel\u2019s mouth;\n    Through Biscay\u2019s bay then cut her way,\n      And bore towards the South.\n\n[Sidenote: Bound for Africa.]\n\n    For she was bound for Afric ground,\n      Where wretched negroes dwell;\n    Who waste their days in idle ways,\n      As I am loth to tell.\n\n    Nathless the soil withouten toil\n      God\u2019s gracious bounty yields;\n    And gum drops free from every tree\n      Along the sunny fields.\n\n    And we are told how dust of gold\n      Stains all the river sands:\n    And huge beasts shed their ivory tusks\n      About the desert lands.\n\n[Sidenote: The unthriftiness of the negroes.]\n\n    Now what is not with trouble got\n      Is seldom kept with care:\n    For foresight and economy\n      To idlesse strangers are.\n\n    So these poor souls their goodly stores,\n      Not needed for the day,\n    For trifles and for tromperie\n      They barter all away.\n\n[Sidenote: The ship sails past the cape of St. Vincent;]\n\n    Three days, three nights our gallant ship\n      Her southward course had steer\u2019d,\n    When o\u2019er her larboard at the dawn\n      Saint Vincent\u2019s cape appear\u2019d.\n\n    Still southward yet three days three nights\n      Her steady prow she bore;\n    But when again Sol gilt the main\n      Was spied Marocco\u2019s shore.\n\n[Sidenote: anchors off the coast of Marocco.]\n\n    Now shouts of joy and busy noise\n      Salute the rising day:\n    The coast was made, the ship was stay\u2019d,\n      And anchor\u2019d in the bay.\n\n    As when a stranger hawk, that long\n      Hath soar\u2019d in middle air,\n    Borne earthward on a tree alights,\n      And makes his station there;\n\n    The myriad tenants of the grove\n      Would fain his purpose know;\n    And flock around, yet hold aloof\n      For fear to meet a foe:\n\n[Sidenote: The wonderment of the negroes.]\n\n    \u2019Twas thus the negroes throng\u2019d the beach,\n      To view a ship at sea:\n    While some drew down their light canoes;\n      What mote the strange bark be?\n\n    Or friend--or foe? They long\u2019d to know,\n      Yet durst not venture near:\n    Till soon the boat was all afloat,\n      And off to lay their fear.\n\n[Sidenote: Their king and queen]\n\n    Afront were seen a king and queen,\n      Whom all the rest obey\u2019d:\n    And all the good things of the land\n      Belong\u2019d to them, \u2019twas said.\n\n[Sidenote: invited by the Captain]\n\n    Which when the captain heard, and how\n      They had an ample hoard,\n    Their companie requested he\n      To dine with him on board.\n\n[Sidenote: go on board.]\n\n    Now, wafted o\u2019er the azure lake,\n      The king and eke his queen,\n    Behold them seated on the deck:\n      The captain sat between.\n\n[Sidenote: Puss salutes his Majesty after European fashion.]\n\n    But ere the dinner it was served,\n      While yawn\u2019d the king for meat,\n    Just to divert the royal mind,\n      Puss rubb\u2019d against his feet.\n\n    Now you must know the royal toe\n      It ticklish was to touch:\n    But Puss rubb\u2019d he so daintily,\n      The king he liked it much.\n\n    Then to his bride he spake aside,\n      And e\u2019en was speaking yet,\n    When lo!--the platter came,--whereat\n      The rest he did forget.\n\n[Sidenote: The dinner.]\n\n    Now both did eat their fill of meat,\n      As suiteth royalty:\n    No lack was there of the ship\u2019s best fare,\n      And grog flow\u2019d copiously.\n\n[Sidenote: Puss joins the carousal,]\n\n    And both did quaff, and both did laugh,\n      And both sang merrily:\n    Till Puss could stay no more away,\n      But came to join the glee.\n\n[Sidenote: his pleasantry.]\n\n    His tail he whisk\u2019d, and leapt and frisk\u2019d,\n      As he was wont before:\n    Whereat the king and eke the queen\n      For very mirth did roar.\n\n[Sidenote: The royal whim]\n\n    Then up he gat, and sware an oath--\n      That, for so droll a thing,\n    In barter, of his choicest goods\n      A shipload he would bring.\n\n[Sidenote: indulged at much cost.]\n\n    Thereat the captain--\u201cDone,\u201d he cried\n      \u201cA bargain by my fay!\u201d\n    And sent his whole ship\u2019s-company\n      To fetch the goods away.\n\n[Sidenote: A merry night.]\n\n    Now laugh\u2019d the king and laugh\u2019d the Queen,\n      And laugh\u2019d the captain he:\n    A bargain struck at festive board\n      Doth please so mightily.\n\n    The goods were brought, the ship was fraught,\n      And stow\u2019d away full tight.\n    The king and queen, they drank till e\u2019en,\n      And slept on board that night.\n\n[Sidenote: The next morning.]\n\n    The captain rose at early dawn\n      And call\u2019d to th\u2019 king anon:\n    \u201cThis cat is thine, this cargo\u2019s mine;\n      And now I must begone.\u201d\n\n    The king awoke and waked the queen,\n      Who slept so heavily,\n    That full ten minutes pass\u2019d away,\n      Before that she could see.\n\n[Sidenote: The king\u2019s maudlin humour.]\n\n    Then clasping Puss within her arms\n      She nursed him like a child.\n    The king his humour now was sad;\n      Nathless the monarch smiled.\n\n[Sidenote: The king and queen depart with puss.]\n\n    Then down the vessel\u2019s side he stepp\u2019d,\n      And down the queen stepp\u2019d she.\n    And Puss was handed down perforce\n      To join their company.\n\n    Alongside lay the king\u2019s canoe,\n      Well mann\u2019d with negroes ten;\n    Who swift row\u2019d off the royal pair,\n      With Puss all snug between.\n\n[Sidenote: The ship weighs anchor,]\n\n    Then sung the Captain--\u201call hand\u2019s up,\n      The anchor haul amain:\n    Unfurl the sails, and point the prow\n      For British lands again.\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: and sails homeward.]\n\n    Tis done: from out the tranquil bay\n      Our goodly vessel glides;\n    And, homeward bound, on Ocean\u2019s back\n      Right gallantly she rides.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nPART III.\n\n\n[Sidenote: Dick\u2019s whole estate.]\n\n    NOW when the merchant gave to Dick\n      That kitten for his own,\n    No thing he had alive or dead\n      On earth save it alone.\n\n[Sidenote: His regret at its loss;]\n\n    And so enamour\u2019d had he grown\n      Of this his property,\n    That sooth his heart did sorely smart\n      When Puss was sent to sea.\n\n[Sidenote: His melancholy vein,]\n\n    Then all was lonely as before;\n      Again he rued his plight:\n    He moped in solitude all day,\n      And lay awake all night.\n\n[Sidenote: and wayward fancy.]\n\n    So dismal and so desolate\n      The granary now it seem\u2019d,\n    He long\u2019d in the green fields to be,\n      And where the sunshine gleam\u2019d.\n\n[Sidenote: He deserts his trust,]\n\n    Alas! how weak our nature is\n      Its cravings to resist:\n    For Dick betray\u2019d his master\u2019s trust\n      To follow his own list.\n\n[Sidenote: and wanders into the fields.]\n\n    He stroll\u2019d abroad into the fields,\n      He knew not where nor why;\n    Regardless of his duty quite\n      About the granary.\n\n[Sidenote: The Lord Mayor\u2019s day.]\n\n    Now as it chanced the new Lord Mayor\n      Of London, that same day,\n    To meet the king at Westminster\n      In state had ta\u2019en his way.\n\n[Sidenote: Bow bells]\n\n    With such a charge the city-barge\n      Did proudly flaunt along:\n    And the bells of Bow were nothing slow\n      To greet him with--_ding, dong_.\n\n[Sidenote: heard by Dick.]\n\n    While truant Dick all sad and sick\n      Was wandering in despair,\n    Hark! hark! the music of Bow-bells\n      Came wafted on the air.\n\n[Sidenote: What they seemed to say.]\n\n    They seem\u2019d to say--_Turn Whit-ting-ton_:\n      _Again turn Whit-ting-ton_:\n    And when he listen\u2019d still, they said--\n      _Lord May-or of Lon-don_.\n\n    Again he heard the self-same words\n      Repeated by the chimes;\n    Yet trusted not, till he had heard\n      The same an hundred times.\n\n[Sidenote: His repentance and return.]\n\n    \u201cIt must be so: and I will go\n      Back to my granary.\n    Oh shame! to be so false while he\n      Was true and kind to me.\u201d\n\n    He turn\u2019d, and reach\u2019d the granary\n      Before the fall of day:\n    And not a living soul e\u2019er knew\n      That he had run away.\n\n[Sidenote: his good resolves,]\n\n    This foolish prank he sorely rued;\n      But now that it was o\u2019er,\n    And he all right again, he vow\u2019d\n      He ne\u2019er would do so more.\n\n[Sidenote: rewarded by peace of mind.]\n\n    And so that night in peace he slept,\n      And so to joy he rose:\n    But while he slept, he thought he trod\n      Upon the Lord Mayor\u2019s toes.\n\n[Sidenote: His prophetic dream.]\n\n    Patience--patience! my little boy;\n      Take heed to save your skin:\n    The Lord Mayor is a portly man,\n      And thou but small and thin.\n\n    Beware of cage, beware of cat\n      That tails hath three times three:\n    For he may strip, and he may whip,\n      And he may \u2019mprison thee.\n\n    All in his sleep this sage advice\n      Seem\u2019d whisper\u2019d to his ear:\n    Nathless right on the Lord Mayor\u2019s toe\n      He stood withouten fear.\n\n[Sidenote: A visiter]\n\n    Again the day had pass\u2019d away,\n      And night was creeping o\u2019er,\n    When such a knock as mote him shock\n      Was thunder\u2019d at his door.\n\n[Sidenote: brings tidings of his luck.]\n\n    \u201cHallo! hallo! why batter so?\u201d\n      In trembling voice he sung:\n    Whereat wide-open flew the door,\n      And in the Captain sprung.\n\n    \u201cGood luck, good luck! my jolly buck!\n      Why whimper there and whine?\n    Cheer up now Maister Whittington,\n      For--all the cargo\u2019s thine.\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: His incredulity.]\n\n    But Dick was so much used to woe,\n      He dared not trust on weal:\n    Nor had he zest to point a jest\n      To rouse the sailor\u2019s peal.\n\n[Sidenote: The congratulations of the household.]\n\n    Till soon the household made aware\n      Came rattling at the door,\n    And greeted Maister Whittington,\n      Who was poor Dick before.\n\n    They led him forth a man of worth,\n      And humbly call\u2019d him _Sire_;\n    And placed him in a huge arm-chair\n      Before the merchant\u2019s fire.\n\n    The good man heard the rumour\u2019d word\n      And eke his daughter fair;\n    And both ran straight to where he sate\n      All in this huge arm-chair.\n\n    \u2019Twas then the merchant laugh\u2019d aloud,\n      And then the maiden smiled:\n    And then the servants bow\u2019d to him\n      They had before reviled.\n\n[Sidenote: The virtue of riches.]\n\n    For Poverty may blameless be,\n      Yet is an unblest thing;\n    And wealth, for all that good men preach,\n      Doth sure obeisance bring.\n\n    This truth found Dick, who grew full quick\n      Into an honour\u2019d man;\n    Yet was he loth to let his luck\n      Abide where it began.\n\n[Sidenote: His active industry,]\n\n    So join\u2019d he jolly venturers\n      In every good emprise;\n    It was no niggard share he staked\n      In all their argosies.\n\n[Sidenote: rewarded.]\n\n    All lucky he came off at sea;\n      But luckier far on land,\n    Whenas the merchant\u2019s daughter fair\n      Gave him her heart and hand.\n\n[Sidenote: His honours.]\n\n    Next he became an Alderman,\n      And Lord Mayor before long:\n    And then--oh! how the bells of Bow\n      Did greet him with _ding-dong_.\n\n    E\u2019en on that day they seem\u2019d to say\n      _Lord May-or of Lon-don_:\n    But when he listen\u2019d still they said\n      _Sir Rich-ard Whit-ting-ton_.\n\n[Sidenote: His charity.]\n\n    Then thought he on the luckless lad\n      That swept the granary floor;\n    Nor ever in the pride of wealth\n      Did he forget the poor.\n\n    And so God save our good Lord Mayor,\n      And give him wealth and wit:\n    But never let a prentice-lad\n      Dick Whittington forget.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nTHE THREE WISHES.\n\n\n_A Lay sung in small Families during the Moon which follows next to\nthat which is known as the Honey-moon._\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nThe Three Wishes.\n\n\n    IN wedlock once (\u2019twas years agone)\n      Were join\u2019d a simple pair;\n    The man in sooth was wondrous poor,\n      The woman wondrous fair.\n\n[Sidenote: Love is not covetous,]\n\n    What wonder then that they should love,\n      As none e\u2019er loved before;\n    And tho\u2019 few worldly goods they had,\n      They coveted no more.\n\n[Sidenote: but, whether woman\u2019s, or man\u2019s,]\n\n    For woman is a generous thing,\n      And loves for love alone;\n    And man he loves for beauty\u2019s sake,\n      And dotes on flesh and bone.\n\n[Sidenote: consists not with starvation;]\n\n    But flesh and bone they must be fed,\n      As all the world doth know;\n    Withouten food the loveliest flesh\n      Most hideous soon doth grow.\n\n    Nor bone will thrive on love alone,\n      If bread and meat it lacks;\n    Withouten food, the stronger love,\n      The weaker bone doth wax.\n\n[Sidenote: and is perill\u2019d by idleness,]\n\n    Now three weeks wedded had they been,\n      And though he was so poor,\n    The man, who had no goods within,\n      Scarce passed without the door.\n\n    The woman loved him still so much,\n      She wish\u2019d for nought instead;\n    Yet did she pine, each night to go\n      All supperless to bed.\n\n    One night as o\u2019er the hearth they sat,\n      The embers glowing bright,\n    My dear, quoth he, most fair by day\n      Thou\u2019rt fairer still by night!\n\n[Sidenote: which induces want,]\n\n    I too, quoth she, do love thee now\n      As ne\u2019er I loved before;\n    Yet, were I not so hungry, I\n      Methinks should love thee more.\n\n[Sidenote: discontent,]\n\n    Alas, said he, that poverty\n      Should such fond hearts betide!\n    I fain would work,--but love thee so,\n      I cannot leave thy side:\n\n[Sidenote: and unavailing wishes:]\n\n    I wish that we were very rich!\n      She answer\u2019d,--I am thine:\n    And, though I never cared for wealth,\n      Thy wishes shall be mine.\n\n    Scarce had they spoke when on the hearth\n      Appear\u2019d a little fay:\n    So beautiful she was, the room\n      It shone as bright as day.\n\n[Sidenote: of which even the full indulgence]\n\n    Then waving thrice her lily hand,\n      In silver tones she spake;\u2014\n    Thrice may ye wish what wish ye please,\n      And thrice your wish shall take.\n\n    I am your guardian fay, she said,\n      And joy to see your love:\n    What would ye more to make you blest\n      As spirits are above?\n\n    The beauteous fay then vanishing,\n      The man he kiss\u2019d his wife;\n    And swore he never was before\n      So happy in his life.\n\n    Now shall I be a lord, said he,\n      A bishop, or a king?\n    We\u2019ll think it o\u2019er to night, nor wish\n      In haste for any thing.\n\n[Sidenote: would end in folly.]\n\n    Be it, said she; to-morrow then\n      We\u2019ll wish one wish, my dear:\n    In the meantime, I only wish\n      We had some pudding here.\n\n    Ah! luckless wish! upon the word,\n      A pudding straightway came:\n    At which the man wax\u2019d high with rage,\n      The woman low with shame.\n\n[Sidenote: Then folly begets anger;]\n\n    And as she hid her blushing eyes,\n      And crouch\u2019d upon a stool;\n    The man he rose and stamp\u2019d his foot,\n      And cursed her for a fool.\n\n    He stamp\u2019d his foot, and clench\u2019d his fist,\n      And scarce refrain\u2019d from blows:\n    A pudding! zounds, cried he, I wish\n      You had it at your nose!\n\n    Up rose the pudding as he spake,\n      And, like an air-balloon,\n    Was borne aloft in empty space,\n      But oh! it settled soon:\n\n[Sidenote: and anger strife,]\n\n    Too soon it settled on the nose\n      Of his unhappy wife:\n    Alas! how soon an angry word\n      Turns harmony to strife!\n\n    For now the woman sobb\u2019d aloud\n      To feel the pudding there;\n    And in her turn was angry too,\n      And call\u2019d the man a bear.\n\n[Sidenote: followed by remorse and shame.]\n\n    But when their anger had burnt out,\n      Its ash remain\u2019d behind;\n    Remorse and shame that they had been\n      So foolish and so blind.\n\n    The man brake silence first, and said,\u2014\n      Two wishes now are gone,\n    And nothing gain\u2019d; but one remains,\n      And much may still be done.\u2014\n\n    Oh were it so! but I have gain\u2019d\n      What much I wish to lose--\n    The woman blurted, as she saw\n      The pudding at her nose.\n\n    Then off the pudding flew amain,\n      And roll\u2019d into the dish:\n    For she in sooth unwittingly\n      Had wish\u2019d the other wish.\n\n    Now when the man saw what was done,\n      His choler quick return\u2019d;\n    But when he look\u2019d into her face,\n      With love again he burn\u2019d.\n\n[Sidenote: But love consists with a lowly estate,]\n\n    For now she smiled as she was wont,\n      And seem\u2019d so full of charms,\n    That all unmindful of the past\n      He rush\u2019d into her arms.\n\n    Oh! how I joy thou\u2019rt not, she said,\n      Nor bishop, king, nor lord!\n    I love thee better as thou art,\n      I do, upon my word!\n\n    And I, said he, do dote on thee:\n      For now the pudding\u2019s gone,\n    There\u2019s not a face in any place\n      So pretty as thine own!\n\n[Sidenote: so there be contentment,]\n\n    But as we have the pudding here,\n      \u2019Tis all we want,--said she,\n    Suppose we just sit down awhile\n      And eat it merrily.\n\n[Sidenote: and industry.]\n\n    With all my heart, my love, said he,\n      For I am hungry too:\n    From this time forth, I\u2019ll strive to earn\n      Enough for me and you.\n\n[Sidenote: Moral.]\n\n    The fay then reappear\u2019d, and spake\n      The moral of my song:\u2014\n    \u201cMan wants but little here below,\n      Nor wants that little long.\u201d\n\n    Love is a heavenly prize in sooth,\n      But earthborn flesh and bone,\n    If they would love, must live as well,\n      And cannot love alone.\n\n    Then strive to earn the bread of life,\n      And guard your body\u2019s health;\n    But mark--enough is all you want,\n      And competence is wealth.\n\n    And to that happy soul, who love\n      With competency blends,\n    Contentment is a crown of joy!\u2014\n      And here the moral ends.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nA brief Account of the sad Accident which befel\n\nLITTLE RED-RIDING-HOOD\n\nshowing plainly what brought about the same.\n\n_A Lay of the Nursery, as chanted to simple Music by the\nlady-governesses of the olden time._\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nLittle Red-riding-hood.\n\n\n    A LITTLE girl once lived in a cottage near a tree,\n    A pretty little girl she was, and good as she could be.\n    Her father often kiss\u2019d her; and her mother loved her so,\n    That if the king had pledged his crown for her, she had said--no.\n    Her grandmother, who lived in a village through a wood,\n    Had made her little granddaughter a nice red riding-hood,\n    This riding-hood she used to wear whenever she walk\u2019d out;\n    It was so smart, the boys and girls would follow her about.\n    And all the neighbours loved her, and to see her often came;\n    And little Dame Red-riding-hood they call\u2019d her for her name.\n\n    One beautiful fine morning when her mother had been churning,\n    This little girl upon the hearth some nice sweet cakes was turning:\n    And whisper\u2019d softly to herself, how well our oven bakes!\n    Oh, how I wish that grandmamma could taste these nice sweet cakes!\n    Her mother who was close behind, and heard her little mutter,\n    Then you shall take her some, she said, with some of my fresh butter.\n    But loiter not upon the road, nor from the footpath stray,\n    For many wicked folks there be might harm thee by the way.\n    As soon as she had heard these words, oh! how she jump\u2019d for joy!\n    For she old granny loved as much as most love a new toy.\n    She put on her red-riding-hood, and started off in haste;\n    All eager for her grandmother her nice sweet cakes to taste.\n    And thus as on she trotted with her basket on her arm,\n    She little thought that any one would wish to do her harm.\n\n    Now when she came into the wood, through which the footpath lay,\n    The birds were singing all around, the flowers were blooming gay.\n    Such yellow buttercups she saw, such violets white and blue,\n    Such primroses, such sweet-briars, and honey-suckles too;\n    That, oh! she thought within herself, I wish Mamma were here:\n    I\u2019m sure she\u2019d let me stop awhile; there can be nought to fear:\n    I must just pick these pretty flowers which smell so fresh and sweet:\n    \u2019Twill be so nice to take her home a nose-gay for a treat.\n    She told me not to loiter here, nor from the footpath stray;\n    And so I wont stop very long, nor wander far away.\n    And so she stopp\u2019d, nor thought of harm, because she knew not what:\n    Enough it should have been to know--Mamma had told her not.\n    And from the path she stray\u2019d away, and pick\u2019d a thousand flowers;\n    And all the birds did welcome her within their leafy bowers.\n    But, as it so fell out, a wolf was basking in the grass,\n    And soon with his sharp hazel eyes espied the little lass.\n    And then he trotted up to her, and right before her stood:\n    How do you do, my dear? said he; what brings you to my wood?\n    Now though his coat was very rough, his words were soft and kind;\n    And not a single thought of fear e\u2019er cross\u2019d her simple mind.\n    And so she freely said,--I go to see my Granny, Sir,\n    Who lives in yonder village in the cottage near the fir.\n    I am her little pet, you know, and take her nice sweet cakes--\n    Good bye; said he, and brush\u2019d away thro\u2019 bushes and thro\u2019 brakes.\n    And not five minutes had pass\u2019d by since he had quitted her,\n    Before he reach\u2019d the village and the cottage near the fir.\n\n    He rubb\u2019d and scratch\u2019d against the door; but she was ill in bed;\n    And when he tried to make a knock, she feebly raised her head;\n    And cried, who knocks at Martha\u2019s door, and poor old Martha wakes?\n    It is your little pet, said he, who brings you nice sweet cakes.\n    God help you, dearest child, she cried, so pull the string you know;\n    And up the latch will go, my love, and you may enter so.\n    Then up he jump\u2019d to reach the string, and open flew the door;\n    And in he walk\u2019d, and fasten\u2019d it, just as it was before.\n    Alas! alas!--as you or I on bread and milk would sup,\n    The greedy wolf this poor old dame he gobbled fairly up.\n\n    But now, ashamed of what he\u2019d done, he jump\u2019d into her bed;\n    And put her gown upon his back, her cap upon his head.\n    But ere he long had lain, there came the very little pet,\n    Who long\u2019d to tell her Granny of the kind wolf she had met.\n    And gently tapping at the door, she whisper\u2019d soft and still;\n    And the false wolf spake huskily, as he were very ill:\n    Who knocks at Martha\u2019s door, he cried, and poor old Martha wakes?\n    It is her little pet, said she, who brings her nice sweet cakes.\n    God help you, dearest, cried the wolf, so pull the string you know;\n    And up the latch will go, my love, and you may enter so.\n    Then up she jump\u2019d to reach the string, and open flew the door;\n    And in she stepp\u2019d, and fasten\u2019d it, just as it was before.\n\n    Now take off your red riding-hood, and come to me in bed:\n    He spake with an affected voice, and cover\u2019d up his head.\n    The little damsel, as he spoke, just saw his hairy nose:\n    Yet now she did as she was bid, and so pull\u2019d off her clothes.\n\n    Oh! Granny, what rough arms you\u2019ve got! I\u2019m not afraid, cried she:\n    Rough arms? my dearest child, he said; better for hugging thee.\n    Oh! Granny, what sharp eyes you\u2019ve got! I\u2019m half afraid, cried she:\n    Sharp eyes? my dearest child, he said; better for seeing thee.\n    Oh! Granny, what long ears you\u2019ve got! I\u2019m quite afraid, cried she:\n    Long ears? my dearest child, he said; better for hearing thee.\n    Oh! Granny, what wide lips you\u2019ve got! I think you\u2019ll swallow me:\n    Wide lips? my dearest child, he said; better for kissing thee.\n    Thus having said, he kisses gave her one--two--three--and four;\n    And then--he would have eat her up, but he could eat no more.\n\n    So little people all take heed, and do as you are bid;\n    Lest you some day should meet a wolf, as this poor maiden did.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n    A Passage in the Life of\n\n    JACK THE GIANT-KILLER.\n\n    _A Lay formerly sung about the South-western\n    coast of England and the Principality of\n    Wales, but known in more remote\n    parts since the spread\n    of Learning._\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nJack the Giant-killer.\n\n_Monstrum horrendum, informe, ingens._\n\n\n    OLD Cormoran of Michael\u2019s mount\n      By all his teeth he swore,\n    That he would eat more butcher\u2019s meat,\n    Than a whole host from Cornwall\u2019s coast\n      Of ten or fifteen score.\n\n    In Arthur\u2019s reign this Giant lived;\n      A Giant huge was he:\n    His name was known in every town,\n    From Devon\u2019s border to Land\u2019s-end,\n      And eke from sea to sea.\n\n    Six fingers on each hand he bore,\n      Six toes upon each foot:\n    An ox\u2019s hide his glove supplied;\n    And three times ten stout Cornish men\n      Could sleep within his boot.\n\n    And while he bathed his monstrous legs,\n      And straddled in the seas,\n    The bravest ship of Arthur\u2019s fleet\n      Might sail between his knees.\n\n    His breath was like a gale of wind\n      As now-a-days it blows:\n    His sneeze was like a hurricane;\n    And leagues around was heard the sound\n      When he did blow his nose.\n\n    His laugh was like a thunderclap\n      If e\u2019er in jest he spoke;\n    And the waves that lay in Michael\u2019s bay\n    Shook, like a merry company,\n      Responsive to his joke.\n\n    Thrice every day he gorged his fill,\n      And thrice he drank as well:\n    One herd at least of salted swine,\n    One hundred fatted beeves in brine,\n    And eke a thousand casks of wine,\n      Were stow\u2019d within his cell.\n\n    On every sabbath day at morn,\n      While Church-bells toll\u2019d for prayer,\n    He took his club and took his horn,\n    And took his belt with iron welt,\n      And through the sea did fare.\n\n    Then foraging the country round\n      He pillaged every farm;\n    And hogs and sheep and oxen too\n      Were fell\u2019d by his strong arm:\n    And then he bound them in his belt,\n    And round his waist huge loads did pack,\n    And swung the rest across his back,\n      And sought his isle again:\n    And not a man of all who dwelt\n    Or high or low within that shire,\n    Or peasant, parson or esquire,\n      But dreaded Cormoran.\n\n    The very magistrates themselves,\n    Who once a fortnight did dispense\n    King Arthur\u2019s justice at Penzance,\n    Despite of justice and of law\n    He made them cater for his maw:\n      And tho\u2019 they lived in rusty pride,\n    Nor took their country\u2019s pay,\n    He spared them not for that a jot,\n    But used to say the balance lay\n      Upon the country\u2019s side.\n\n    In sooth it was a grievous sight,\n      And sad it is to tell,\n    When Cormoran came o\u2019er the sea,\n      What fearful things befel:\n    He had no shame of his ill name,\n      No sneaking thief was born;\n    But standing stiff on the main cliff\n      Nine times he wound his horn.\n\n    Oh then I ween you might have seen\n      All nature in despair!\n    The bird soar\u2019d high toward the sky,\n      The wild beast sought his lair.\n\n    The sheep ran huddling to a nook,\n      As they had seen a wolf:\n    The snorting colt defied the brook,\n      Or plunged into the gulf.\n\n    The lazy-grouping steers, that grazed\n      Upon the mountain fell,\n    Forgot their pasture all amazed,\n      And pour\u2019d into the dell.\n\n    The pigs that buried in the straw\n      Lay grunting snug and warm,\n    Now helter-skelter scurried off,\n      As if they smelt a storm.\n\n    The watch-dog tore against his chain,\n    As he would choke with rage:\n      But when he listen\u2019d once agen,\n    He knew the voice of Cormoran,\n      And skulk\u2019d into his den.\n\n    From every steeple on the coast,\n      And eke from every tower,\n    The village bells right merrily\n      Did chime the matins-hour;\n    But when they heard th\u2019 accursed blast,\n    Each sturdy sexton stood aghast;\n    The rope it glided from his grasp,\n      And silence reign\u2019d around:\n    Save here and there where sudden jerk\n    Had follow\u2019d interrupted work,\n    Like dying man\u2019s convulsive gasp,\n      There came a jangling sound.\n\n    The lads and lasses, who that morn\n      Had donn\u2019d their high-day trim,\n    Were pacing solemnly to prayer,\n      In modest guise and prim.\n    Apart they walk\u2019d in decent pride,\n    And scarcely ventured side by side:\n      But hark! it was--it was--\n    \u2019Twas Cormoran! they knew the sound\n    That paralysed the country round,\n      And hurried off in mass.\n    Forgetful now of prayer and pride\n    In groups they thrid the forest wide,\n      Or lurk in caves together:\n    And here and there a plighted pair\n    Wander aloof in mute despair,\n      Or crouch upon the heather.\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nPART II.\n\n_Ingentes animos angusto in pectore._\n\n    IN Cornwall then there lived a youth,\n      (Such may that land ne\u2019er lack)\n    His mother call\u2019d him \u201cJohnny dear,\u201d\n      His father call\u2019d him Jack.\n\n    In sooth he was of gentle mien,\n      And of a nature kind:\n    And though his body it was small,\n      It held a mighty mind.\n\n    For he had read of fairy tales,\n      And deeds of high emprize;\n    And envied knights who died in fights,\n      Or lived in ladies\u2019 eyes.\n\n    And not a wrestling match there was,\n      But Jack would try his skill;\n    And not a fair but Jack was there\n      To wreak his merry will.\n\n    And while he sat upon some rock,\n      And watch\u2019d his sheep by day,\n    His eyes were with his silly flock,\n      His soul was far away.\n\n    Sometimes he went to beard intent\n      A Giant in his den;\n    Sometimes he thought he singly fought\n      With twice two hundred men:\n\n    And when he found himself aground,\n      Not caring to be slain\n    He sprang afoot, and off he shot\n      Till he might breathe again.\n\n    Now Jack while he sat thoughtfully\n      One glorious sabbath morn,\n    It so befel, as I did tell,\n      That Cormoran wound his horn.\n\n    The ewes were browsing o\u2019er the downs,\n      And scatter\u2019d far away;\n    The lusty lambs had drain\u2019d their dams,\n      And gamboll\u2019d off to play.\n\n    Now all did prick their ears right quick\n      Astounded at the blast;\n    As if a kite had soar\u2019d in sight,\n      Or fox had skulken past.\n\n    And then they scour\u2019d about the lay,\n      And piteously did bleat,\n    Till in the throng that rush\u2019d along\n      Each one its own might meet.\n\n    Cried Jack--It is a shame, I wis,\n      A burning shame to see\n    This Cormoran, a single man,\n      Defy the whole countrie!\n\n    What! tho\u2019 no hand on Cornish land\n      Can wield the giant\u2019s axe:\n    One heart there is as stout as his,\n      And that one heart is Jack\u2019s.\n\n    And, if I know a trick or two\n      May serve me in good stead,\n    This very night my mark I\u2019ll write\n      Upon the giant\u2019s head.\n\n    That day pass\u2019d by most tediously,\n      And Jack the hours did count,\n    Till night came on and he was gone\n      Alone to Michael\u2019s mount.\n\n    His horn was at his collar hung,\n      His hatchet in his hand;\n    Adown his side his spade was tied;\n    A pickaxe at his back was slung;\n      And thus he left the land.\n\n    Across the bay he held his way,\n      And swam with all his might;\n    It was so dark he scarce could mark\n      The mountain\u2019s frowning height.\n\n    But soon he gain\u2019d the rocky land,\n      And dripping from the wave\n    He peer\u2019d around, till he had found\n      The hateful giant\u2019s cave.\n\n    There right afore the giant\u2019s door\n      He dug a huge big hole;\n    Full deep and wide on every side\n      He scoop\u2019d it like a mole.\n\n    With muchel toil he moved the soil;\n      And then, to hide his tricks,\n    Above the cavern\u2019s gaping mouth\n      He wove a frame of sticks.\n\n    A frame of sticks just strong enough\n      To bear the living sward;\n    Which he so laid o\u2019er as it was before,\n      Not a trace of the hole appear\u2019d.\n\n    Then pickaxe, spade, and hatchet too\n      Upon the ground he cast:\n    And he took his horn to salute the morn\n      And blew a jolly blast.\n\n    Now how he danced, and how he pranced,\n      To think what he had done!\n    But when he heard what then he heard,\n      He well nigh burst for fun.\n\n    \u201cHolloa--Yaugh! Holloa--Yaugh!\n      Who dares wake Cormoran?\n    As I am good, by my father\u2019s blood,\n      I smell a breathing man!\u201d\n\n    Then he rubb\u2019d his eyes and drove to rise,\n      But woke so tardily,\n    That while he yawn\u2019d the morning dawn\u2019d,\n      And Jack bethought to flee.\n\n    But while yet slumber his lids did cumber\n      He blew another blast;\n    And the giant rush\u2019d out and blink\u2019d about,\n      Till Jack he spied at last.\n\n    What whipster is that scarce as tall as a cat?\n      He\u2019ll do to broil or bake:\n    But he\u2019s too small for me withal\n      This long night\u2019s fast to break.\n\n    Tis Jack, I swear! ah Jack, mon cher,\n      This is a merry bout!\n    I\u2019ll pay your score--and all before\n      Your mother knows you\u2019re out.\n\n    So on he strode: but soon he trod\n      Aboon Jack\u2019s handywork;\n    When in he fell, and roll\u2019d pell-mell\n      Blaspheming like a Turk.\n\n    Then Jack peep\u2019d in, and rubb\u2019d his chin,\n      While thus he spake his foe:\u2014\n    Now, as you\u2019re good, by your father\u2019s blood,\n      Dear giant, swear not so.\n\n    Why thus perplex\u2019d and sorely vex\u2019d,\n      Kind heart! for me and mine?\n    My mother knows I\u2019m out;--but does\n      Your father know you\u2019re in?\n\n    At Jack\u2019s keen wit the giant bit\n      His flesh with grief and pain:\n    Then with mock glee--Bravo! cried he:\n      Now help me out again.\n\n    Jack quick replied: on either side\n      With both your hands hold tight:\n    While I take care to seize your hair,\n      And pull with all my might.\n\n    The Giant did as he was bid;\n      When Jack his humour spoke:\n    For though so brave and seeming grave\n      He dearly loved a joke.\n\n    \u201cStay, stay: the air is cold up here,\n      And you are delicate:\n    It sure were best to breakfast first;\n      I well can spare to wait.\n\n    But broil not me, who am you see\n      Scarce taller than a cat:\n    Not half enough, besides I\u2019m tough;\n      Do pray instead take--that:\u201d\u2014\n\n    Whereat a thump he dealt so plump,\n      Upon the Giant\u2019s head,\n    That down he roll\u2019d upon the mould,\n      And there he lay like dead.\n\n    Then Jack jump\u2019d down and kneeling on\n      Him pull\u2019d his clasp-knife out;\n    And here he gash\u2019d, and there he slash\u2019d,\n      As one would crimp a trout.\n\n    Now such a flood of giant\u2019s blood\n      Came rushing from each wound,\n    Jack well had need to off with speed,\n      Or sooth he had been drown\u2019d.\n\n    Then up he sprang, and, like a cock\n      That dead hath struck his foe,\n    He stood aloof upon a rock,\n      And thus began to crow.\n\n    The deed is done! the game is won!\n      Great Cormoran is slain!\n    Now frisk and leap, my pretty sheep,\n      All merrily again.\n\n    The deed is done! the game is won!\n      Right glorious Jack will be:\n    All Cornwall\u2019s coast his fame shall boast\n      For this great victory!\n\n    But who can know who struck the blow,\n      Since none were here to see?\n    What boots to Jack if he go back\n      Without some true trophee?\n\n    For men in sooth are wondrous loth\n      To spend a word of praise:\n    Though great and small are prodigal\n      Of evil words always.\n\n    But off to bear the Giant\u2019s gear\n      Jack was too weak of limb:\n    He scarce could stand the weight on land;\n      Then how with it to swim?\n\n    Wherefor he felt beneath his belt;\n      Perchance he there mote wear\n    A signet, or some love-token,\n      Or lock of lady\u2019s hair.\n\n    For who so fierce, but love may pierce\n      His breast, to all unknown?\n    What heart so sere, but springs a tear\n      In secret and alone?\n\n    But Cormoran was not the man\n      To rue his lonely couch:\n    Nor pledge nor plight of lady bright\n      Was there within his pouch.\n\n    There lay alone a steer\u2019s thigh-bone,\n      Sharp pointed, huge, and thick;\n    Wherewith he used (for tell\u2019t I must)\n      His monstrous teeth to pick.\n\n    Now this took Jack, and on his back\n      He slung the ugly spoil:\n    And thus again he swam the main,\n      Sore sick of blood and toil.\n\n    The morn was bright, the breeze was light,\n      Jack stemm\u2019d the wave meanwhile:\n    And all Penzance came forth to see\n      Who left the Giant\u2019s isle.\n\n    They mark\u2019d him ride the buoyant tide,\n      As one of stubborn mind;\n    And how he cleft his way and left\n      A blood-red track behind.\u2014\n\n    Now Jack once more on Cornwall\u2019s shore\n      Unslung his huge trophee:\n    And all flock\u2019d round, and mark\u2019d with stound\n      What this strange thing mote be.\n\n    So thick! so long! so sharp! so strong!\n      They saw the truth full quick:\n    For who but he its lord could be?\n      \u2019Twas Cormoran\u2019s own tooth-pick!\n\n    And who could seize that pocket-piece,\n      Nor pay for\u2019t with his head?\n    And who e\u2019er felt beneath that belt?\n      It must be he was dead!\n\n    Then did they shout with joyous rout,\n      And Jack bore off amain:\n    Right up Penzance they led their dance,\n      Then led it down again.\n\n    It chanced that morn the Ealdorman\n      Sat there in civic state;\n    On matters high of polity\n      For to deliberate.\n\n    So when this noise of men and boys\n      Resounded through the street,\n    He felt the weight of high estate\n      And trembled in his seat.\n\n    But soon a scout who had peep\u2019d out\n      These welcome tidings told:\u2014\n    \u201cThey bring a lad--some thief, or pad!\u201d\n      Whereat he waxed more bold.\n\n    For though he had no heart to beard\n      A burglar stout and tall,\n    He yet was glad to trounce a lad,\n      Because he was so small.\n\n    But threats soon turn to promises,\n      And punishment to praise,\n    When Jack walks in and on the board\n      The giant\u2019s tooth-pick lays!\n\n    The Ealdorman is all astound,\n      And scarce his eyes believes;\n    For \u2019twas long syne that he did dine\n      Upon his own fat beeves.\n\n    As fitting meed for such brave deed,\n      He fain would wealth bestow:\n    But money there was then as rare\n      As now-a-days, I trow.\n\n    But honour shone more bright than coin\n      Before Jack\u2019s noble eyes:\n    Awake--asleep--he still might keep\n      Untarnish\u2019d this fair prize.\n\n    The Ealdorman then rising up,\n      While Jack before him knelt,\n    In Arthur\u2019s name he dubb\u2019d him knight,\n      And girt him with a belt.\n\n    The belt it was of good leather,\n      With letters stamp\u2019d of gold;\n    And all the world might read thereon\n      This simple history told:\u2014\n\n        =This is the valiant Cornish man\n        Who slew the giant Cormoran!=\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nDIVERS SMALL HISTORIES,\n\n_not known to the Ancients_.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nThe Vain Mouse.\n\n\n    UPON a river side\n      A Frog had built his house;\n    And in a hole close by\n      There lived a little Mouse.\n\n    Now as they lived so near,\n      And went out in fine weather,\n    They used to meet sometimes,\n      And laugh and talk together.\n\n    Thus as they jogg\u2019d along\n      So happily through life,\n    The neighbours often said,\n      They must be man and wife.\n\n    Now Mouse was rather gay,\n      While Froggy was most proper;\n    And so he said one day,\n      \u2019Tis time for me to stop her.\n\n[Sidenote: A fair offer,]\n\n    That very afternoon,\n      As they were taking tea,\n    I love you, Mouse, said he;\n      Pray will you marry me?\n\n    But Mouse was very vain;\n      And, though mice are so rife,\n    I\u2019m sure she thought herself\n      The prettiest mouse in life.\n\n[Sidenote: rejected with disdain.]\n\n    So looking grave at Frog\n      That he should dare to woo,\n    She said,--how can I love\n      A cold, damp thing, like you?\n\n    Then jumping from her seat,\n      As if to shew her spite,\n    She whisk\u2019d him with her tail,\n      Nor wish\u2019d him once good-night.\n\n    But, as it so fell out,\n      Old Pussy had been walking,\n    And stopp\u2019d to listen there\n      While Frog and Mouse were talking:\n\n[Sidenote: Vanity meets its deserts.]\n\n    And just as this vain Mouse\n      Was trotting home to bed,\n    Old Pussy cried,--Stop, stop!\n      And seized her by the head.\n\n    Then Froggy who peep\u2019d out\n      And saw how she was treated,\n    It serves her right, said he,\n      For being so conceited.\n\n    So Pussy took poor Mouse,\n      And gave her to her kittens,\n    Who supp\u2019d upon her flesh,\n      But saved her skin for mittens.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nCock Robin and Jenny Wren.\n\n\n    \u201cGOOD morning, dear Robin!\u201d said sweet Jenny Wren:\n    \u201cGood morning, sweet Jenny!\u201d said Robin again.\n    Then chirping and flirting and hopping and bobbing\n    Together sat down Jenny Wren and Cock Robin.\n\n    Then Jenny broke silence:\u2014\u201cAh me! if you knew,\n    Dear Robin, how this little heart beats for you,\n    It hardly would happen that poor Jenny Wren\n    Must always give place to Dame Robin your hen.\u201d\n\n    \u201cSweet Jenny!\u201d said he, \u201cyou don\u2019t surely suppose\n    That Robins can trifle like jackdaws and crows!\n    You know birds of my quality must be decorous;\n    Though between you and me, sweet, it may sometimes bore us.\u201d\n\n    \u201cThen come, my dear Robin! then come to my bower,\n    Now the trees are all leaf and the fields are all flower:\n    The world may tell stories,--I don\u2019t care a fig,\n    While pretty Cock Robin is perch\u2019d on my twig.\u201d\n\n    Cock Robin was tickled, and thrice chirp\u2019d aloud,\n    And thrice wagg\u2019d his tail and thrice graciously bow\u2019d:\n    Then he bustled and rustled and whittled so high,\n    That he woke a dull owl who was dozing close by.\n\n    \u201cWhit-a-whoo!\u201d cried the owl, as he blink\u2019d with surprise:\n    \u201cWhere is he?--this sun is too bright for my eyes.\u201d\n    But a cloud passing over, as if fate was in it,\n    He pounced upon Robin at that very minute.\n\n    Poor Cock Robin! alas, that he should be so frail!\n    How could he give ear to her flattering tale!\n    The Owl minced him for supper: but, had he been wise,\n    He had still supp\u2019d himself on Dame Robin\u2019s mince-pies.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nThe Proud Eagle.\n\n\n    AN eagle dwelt upon a rock,\n      And perch\u2019d upon the topmost stones:\n    Whence he would pounce on bird and beast\n      And bear them off to pick their bones.\n\n    He was a proud and cruel bird,\n      And boasted of his beak and claw;\n    His eye could reach both far and near,\n      And hunger was his only law.\n\n    One morning in the month of May\n      A lamb was bleating on the lawn:\n    \u201cA fig for lambs,\u201d said he; \u201cto-day\n      I\u2019ll breakfast on a pretty fawn.\u201d\n\n    But every pretty fawn that day\n      Was shelter\u2019d by its careful dam:\n    So as he could not breakfast there,\n      He turn\u2019d again to find the lamb.\n\n    And though he might have caught a hare\n      Who hurried off towards her brue;\n    \u201cNay think not, silly puss\u201d he cried\n      \u201cThat I would stoop to lunch on you.\u201d\n\n    But now the shepherd watch\u2019d his lambs,\n      And, as he dared not venture there,\n    Away he flew, and swore aloud\n      He\u2019d gobble up alive the hare.\n\n    He pass\u2019d a little mouse just then,\n      Nor deigned to touch such paltry food:\n    But soon he found the prudent hare\n      Had stole away into the wood.\n\n    Then in a passion back he flew\n      To swallow whole the little mouse:\n    But little mouse her danger knew,\n      And so had crept into her house.\n\n    And now the evening dews were rising:\n      And as the light was waxing pale,\n    This proud bird (deem it not surprising)\n      Was glad to sup upon a snail.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nYoung Lumpkin\u2019s Hy\u00e6na.\n\n\n    IT was once on a time people said a hy\u00e6na\n      Lived close by the village and had a snug lair;\n    They were sure \u2019twas a real one, young Lumpkin had seen her,\n      With a head like a wolf and a tail like a bear.\n\n    Old Gaffer moreover, who used to sit quaffing,\n      One night heard a scuffle and found a goose dead;\n    And dame Slipperslopper had often heard laughing,\n      While folks were, or ought to have been, all abed.\n\n    So with common consent they determined to stop her,\n      For hy\u00e6nas they said were a mischievous race:\n    So Gaffer and Lumpkin and Dame Slipperslopper\n      Sallied forth one fine morning all girt for the chase.\n\n    They soon reach\u2019d the hole where they reckon\u2019d to find her,\n      And all took their posts as they gather\u2019d round close;\n    And the Dame she peep\u2019d in, though no mole could be blinder,\n      As she settled her spectacles over her nose.\n\n    But just at that moment our old friend the fox,\n      (For no more and no less was Young Lumpkin\u2019s Hy\u00e6na)\n    Was starting to visit old Gaffer\u2019s fat cocks,\n      And he brush\u2019d past her face just as if he\u2019d not seen her.\n\n    She started--her glasses fell into the hole;\n      And backward she tumbled and shriek\u2019d like a child.\n    Young Lumpkin stood silent and look\u2019d like a fool;\n      Old Gaffer ran homeward, as if he was wild.\n\n    But before he got home he had lost a fine chicken,\n      And Dame Slipperslopper came back in chagrin:\n    But the Fox grinn\u2019d with joy while his chops he sat licking,\n      And put on the glasses, to pick the bones clean.\n\n[Sidenote: Moral.]\n\n    When a fool prates of wonders--a ghost or a dragon,\n      Believe not his story, albeit he may swear;\n    For be sure, that as usual the world will still wag on,\n      And never a dragon nor ghost will be there.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nThe Young Thrushes.\n\nA TRUE STORY.\n\n\n    A PRETTY thrush with speckled breast\n    Within a yew had made her nest,\n      And laid her five eggs there:\n    Five pretty eggs so smooth and blue,\n    And, like herself all speckled too,\n      She brooded with much care.\n\n    By day, by night, so close she sat,\n    No babbling dog, no crafty cat,\n      No boy her secret knew:\n    Nor bird--save one, who sat apart\n    And whistled to console her heart,\u2014\n      Her gentle mate, and true.\n\n    Thus time pass\u2019d cheerily away;\n    Meanwhile her bosom day by day\n      With kindling fondness yearn\u2019d:\n    Till, on the morn when it befel\n    Her callow nestlings burst the shell,\n      With mother\u2019s love it burn\u2019d.\n\n    Now all seem\u2019d brighter to her eye,\n    The earth more green, more blue the sky,\n      For all with love was dyed:\n    And while she flitted round for food,\n    And pick\u2019d it for her helpless brood,\n      She wish\u2019d no joy beside.\n\n    Alas, that joy so sweet and pure\n    Should be on earth so little sure!\n      But such is Heaven\u2019s decree.\n    Puss mark\u2019d where she was wont to fly,\n    And watch\u2019d her with a yellow eye,\n      And noted well the tree.\n\n    Now stealthily she crept beneath,\n    And there she crouch\u2019d as still as death,\n      Till home the thrush might go:\n    But mother\u2019s eyes are open wide;\n    And soon the cautious parent spied\n      The ambush of her foe.\n\n    Wherefore she went not near the yew,\n    But quite another way she flew;\n      And Pussy\u2019s game seem\u2019d lost:\n    For all in vain she strove to find\n    The nest which lay so close and blind,\n      Where two thick stems were cross\u2019d.\n\n    Then basking in the sunny ray,\n    She soon began to purr and play,\n      As all on love intent:\n    And mildness, like the velvet paw\n    Which cloked the terrors of her claw,\n      Belied her natural bent.\n\n    Twas thus, whenas the senseless brood,\n    Who miss\u2019d awhile their custom\u2019d food,\n      Began to chirp complaints;\n    As if their mother knew not best,\n    Or would not charge her careful breast\n      With all their little wants.\n\n    Full soon their folly did they rue;\n    (As foolish children always do;)\n      But ah! they rued too late:\n    For Pussy heard their silly wail,\n    And prick\u2019d her ears, and lash\u2019d her tail,\n      And grinn\u2019d with scorn and hate.\n\n    Then up the tree amain she sprung,\n    From branch, to bough, she leapt, she clung,\n      Till right within the nook,\n    Where lay the nestlings snug and warm,\n    She planted her terrific form,\n      And all the yew-tree shook!\n\n    How then they trembled in despair,\n    And long\u2019d to have their Mother there,\n      Most grievous is to tell:\n    And how Puss scorn\u2019d such unripe meat,\n    And fiercely spurn\u2019d them with her feet.\n      Till on the ground they fell!\n\n    Alas! poor birds! had they been still,\n    Nor chirp\u2019d their little plaints of ill,\n      While all was for the best,\n    The unheeding cat had walk\u2019d away;\n    And they had lived secure that day\n      Within their happy nest.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nM. P. or The Magpie.\n\n\n[Sidenote: A blockhead]\n\n    A MAGPIE once was such a dunce,\n      That all the people said,\n    More bricks would lie in a fish\u2019s eye,\n      Than learning in his head.\n\n    And though his mother herself did bother\n      And every trouble took,\n    Yet not one word could that dull bird\n      Repeat without his book.\n\n    Till once he saw a young jackdaw\n      Who dearly loved his letters;\n    Though not so much his taste was such,\n      As \u2019twas to ape his betters.\n\n    Howe\u2019er this be the jackdaw he\n      Could tell a funny story;\n    And many a bird his prattle heard\n      And envied him his glory.\n\n[Sidenote: may emulate eloquence;]\n\n    But when he shew\u2019d the wond\u2019ring crowd\n      How he could spout and swell,\n    The Magpie tried for very pride\n      If he could do as well.\n\n[Sidenote: and, by practice,]\n\n    And every night by candlelight\n      He conn\u2019d his lessons o\u2019er,\n    And every morn with the herdsman\u2019s horn\n      He rose and practised more.\n\n[Sidenote: learn to speak with fluency,]\n\n    Full soon he thought himself well taught,\n      And then began to chatter:\n    And the careful dame, his mother, came\n      To see what was the matter.\n\n[Sidenote: plausibility,]\n\n    Like Miller Peel he smiled a deal,\n      And cull\u2019d the fairest diction;\n    And look\u2019d quite true though well he knew\n      That every word was fiction.\n\n[Sidenote: and grimace,]\n\n[Sidenote: so as to satisfy himself,\u2014]\n\n    Then to his nose he raised his toes,\n      And gravely look\u2019d askew;\n    And thought himself a clever elf:\u2014\n      And his mother thought so too.\n\n[Sidenote: and his mother,]\n\n    \u201cCaw, caw!\u201d quoth she; \u201che sure must be\n      An orator or poet:\n    I\u2019ll have him sent to Parliament,\n      That all the world may know it.\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: --but not the Commons of England.]\n\n    But though he shone so much alone,\n      And made his mother stare,\n    \u201cThe Members\u201d swore he was a bore,\n      And had no business there.\n\n    Yet there he is, and there I wis,\n      He\u2019s likely still to be;\n    As, should you call at Stephen\u2019s hall,\n      Yourself may chance to see.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nThe Pigeon and the Hen,\n\nOR, THE PRIDE OF STATION.\n\n\n[Sidenote: Fortune puffeth up the heart,]\n\n    A MILK-WHITE pigeon (records state)\n    Was wedded to a milk-white mate:\n    Nor envied prince nor potentate\n        This dainty dove,\n    While crouching to her lord she sate,\n        And coo\u2019d her love.\n\n[Sidenote: to judge others.]\n\n    Indulged in all her heart\u2019s desire\n    She felt no spark of lawless fire;\n    So plumed herself throughout the shire\n        A pattern wife:\n    And chid dame Partlet, as in ire,\n        For her loose life.\n\n    A scandal to our sex, I vow,\n    Those cackling ladies of the mow!\n    Or black, or red, or high, or low,\n        They have no care;\n    So he\u2019s a Cock--\u2019tis quite enow\n        For welcome there!\n\n    Dame Partlet heard, but felt no shame;\n    And let alone the vaunty dame,\n    To nurse her pride of wedded fame;\n        Herself content\n    That conscience whisper\u2019d her no blame\n        Of evil bent.\n\n    A shot!--the dove--she knew the sound!\n    Her milk-white mate has ta\u2019en a wound:\n    He languishes upon the ground:\n        His swimming eyes\n    Heed not his comrades hovering round:\n        He gasps--he dies.\n\n[Sidenote: Altered circumstances]\n\n    Oh! what can stint a widow\u2019s grief!\n    Our pattern wife defied relief:\n    No grain pick\u2019d she, no sprouting leaf,\n        --As folks could see:\n    A pattern widow (to be brief)\n        She fain would be.\n\n    So trimly prinn\u2019d she sat alone,\n    And lean\u2019d her breast against a stone,\n    As one for ever woe-begone;\n        And would not coo:\n    No wonder that a suitor soon\n        Came down to woo.\n\n    A vulgar bluerock by my fay!\n    Without the gentle pouting way\n    Of him that died the other day:\n        Alas! he\u2019s gone!\n    And sore it is for one to stay,\n        And live alone!\n\n[Sidenote: induce altered feelings.]\n\n    This bluerock press\u2019d his suit so close,\n    Now strutting up upon his toes,\n    Now whispering something nose to nose,\u2014\n        Our milk-white dove\n    Crouch\u2019d to him, as the story goes,\n        And coo\u2019d her love.\n\n[Sidenote: Few can afford to indulge a fine taste, though many may have\nit.]\n\n    Dame Partlet eyed the scene askaunt,\n    And spake:--The pamper\u2019d few may vaunt\n    Their dainty taste o\u2019er such as want;\n        But coarser bread\n    Is good enough to one who can\u2019t\n        Get fine instead.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nThe Oyster and the Muscle,\n\nOR, THE USES OF ADVERSITY.\n\n\n    AN Oyster, full of health and pride,\n    Once heard a Muscle by his side\n      O\u2019er cruel fate repine;\n    Driv\u2019n by the tyrant flood to roam\n    An outcast from his river-home,\n      And sicken in the brine.\n\n    While faint lay one and gaped half-dead,\n    The other hugg\u2019d his native bed,\n      And snuggled in his shell:\n    \u201cPoor paltry child of ooze!\u201d he spake,\n    \u201cFrom Ocean\u2019s sons example take,\n      \u201cAnd dare to laugh at ill.\u201d\n\n    E\u2019en as he spake, the dredgers came,\n    And fish\u2019d him from his depth amain,\n      And stow\u2019d him in the boat:\n    To London thence he found his way,\n    Where high and dry with more he lay,\u2014\n      A dozen for a groat.\n\n    The play was o\u2019er, the people throng\u2019d;\n    Yet fear\u2019d he nought, howe\u2019er he long\u2019d\n      In Ocean\u2019s sand to delve:\n    But now a Captain of the Blues\n    Dropt in at Arthur\u2019s to carouse,\n      And call\u2019d for oysters twelve.\n\n    The word went out, the knife went in;\n    Our Oyster naked to the skin\n      Was brought upon a plate:\n    The Captain saw, the Captain seized,\n    And quick three drops of lemon squeezed\n      Upon his smarting pate.\n\n    The pride of the Ocean then gave way;\n    He crisp\u2019d his beard, (as people say)\n      And fetch\u2019d a heavy groan:\n    Ah me! he thought; how light to bear\n    The troubles of our neighbours are;\n      How grievous are our own!\n\n\n[Illustration: FINIS.]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n    PRINTED BY C. WHITTINGHAM, CHISWICK.","title":"Lays of Ancient Babyland: to which are added Small Divers Histories not known to the Ancients","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":10696}