Read Ebook: Λυσιστράτη by Aristophanes BCE BCE Demetrakopoulos Polyvios Translator

Font size: 10 px 15 px 20 px 25 px 30 px 35 px

Background color: BlackWhiteGrayLight GrayDark GrayDim Gray

Text color: BlackWhiteGrayLight GrayDark GrayDim Gray

Apply/Save settings

Ebook has 32 lines and 8028 words, and 1 pages

PAGE

MAUDE ALLINGHAME; A LEGEND OF HERTFORDSHIRE. BY FRANK E. SMEDLEY 1

"YE RIGHT ANCIENT BALLAD OF YE COMBAT OF KING TIDRICH WITH YE DRAGON." BY FRANK E. SMEDLEY 23

ST. MICHAEL'S EVE. BY EDMUND H. YATES 31

THE KING OF THE CATS; A RHINE LEGEND. BY EDMUND H. YATES 38

THE LAPWING. BY EDMUND H. YATES 43

THE ENCHANTED NET. BY FRANK E. SMEDLEY 45

A FYTTE OF THE BLUES. BY FRANK E. SMEDLEY 53

THE FORFEIT HAND; A LEGEND OF BRABANT. BY FRANK E. SMEDLEY 55

SIR RUPERT THE RED. BY EDMUND H. YATES 71

COUNT LOUIS OF TOULOUSE. BY EDMUND H. YATES 82

ANNIE LYLE. BY EDMUND H. YATES 84

JACK RASPER'S WAGER; OR, "NE SUTOR ULTRA CREPIDAM." BY EDMUND H. YATES 86

THE OVERFLOWINGS OF THE LATE PELLUCID RIVERS, ESQ. BY EDMUND H. YATES 94

MIRTH AND METRE.

MAUDE ALLINGHAME; A LEGEND OF HERTFORDSHIRE.

Part the First.

The lamented deceased whose funeral arrangement I've just been describing, resembled that strange gent Who ventured to falsely imprison a great man, Viz. the Ottoman captor of noble Lord Bateman; For we're told in that ballad, which makes our eyes water, That this terrible Turk had got one only daughter; And although our good knight had twice seen twins arrive, a Young lady named Maude was the only survivor. So there being no entail On some horrid heir-male, And no far-away cousin or distant relation To lay claim to the lands and commence litigation, 'Tis well known through the county, by each one and all, That fair Maude is the heiress of Allinghame Hall.

Yes! she was very fair to view; Mark well that forehead's ivory hue, That speaking eye, whose glance of pride The silken lashes scarce can hide, E'en when, as now, its wonted fire Is paled with weeping o'er her sire; Those scornful lips that part to show The pearl-like teeth in even row, That dimpled chin, so round and fair, The clusters of her raven hair, Whose glossy curls their shadow throw O'er her smooth brow and neck of snow; The faultless hand, the ankle small, The figure more than woman tall, And yet so graceful, sculptor's art Such symmetry could ne'er impart. Observe her well, and then confess The power of female loveliness, And say, "Except a touch of vice One may descry About the eye, Rousing a Caudle-ish recollection, Which might perchance upon reflection Turn out a serious objection, That gal would make "a heavenly splice."

My Lord Dandelion, That illustrious scion, Not possessing the pluck of the bold hero Brian, , Neither feeling inclined, Nor having a mind To be shot by a highwayman, merely said "Eh? Aw--extwemely unpleasant--aw--take it, sir, pway;" And without further parley his money resigned.

In the stable department of Allinghame Hall There's the devil to pay, As a body may say, And no assets forthcoming to answer the call; For the head groom, Roger, A knowing old codger, In a thundering rage, Which nought can assuage, Most excessively cross is With the whole stud of horses, While he viciously swears At the fillies and mares; He bullies the helpers, he kicks all the boys, Upsets innocent pails with superfluous noise; Very loudly doth fret and incessantly fume, And behaves, in a word, In a way most absurd, More befitting a madman, by far, than a groom, Till at length he finds vent For his deep discontent In the following soliloquy:--"I'm blest if this is To be stood any longer; I'll go and tell Missis; If she don't know some dodge as'll stop this here rig, Vy then, dash my vig, This here werry morning I jest gives her warning, If I don't I'm a Dutchman, or summut as worse is." Then, after a short obligato of curses, Just to let off the steam, Roger dons his best clothes, And seeks his young mistress his griefs to disclose.

Part the Second.

There's a stir and confusion in Redburn town, And all the way up and all the way down The principal street, When the neighbours meet, They do nothing but chafe, and grumble, and frown, And sputter and mutter, And sentences utter, Such as these--"Have you heard, The thing that's occurred? His worship the Mayor? Shocking affair! Much too bad, I declare! Fifty pounds, I've been told! And as much more in gold. Well, the villain is bold! Two horse pistols!--No more? I thought they said four. And so close to the town! I say, Gaffer Brown, Do tell us about it." "Thus the matter fell out--it Was only last night that his worship the Mayor, Master Zachary Blair, Having been at St. Alban's and sold in the fair Some fifteen head of cattle, a horse and a mare, Jogging home on his nag With the cash in a bag, Was met by a highwayman armed to the teeth, With a belt full of pistols and sword in its sheath, A murderous villain, six feet high, With spur on heel and boot on thigh, And a great black beard and a wicked eye; And he said to his Worship, 'My fat little friend, I will thank you to lend Me that nice bag of gold, which no doubt you intend Before long to expend In some awfully slow way, Or possibly low way, Which I should not approve. Come, old fellow, be quick!' And then Master Blair heard an ominous click, Betokening the cocking Of a pistol, a shocking Sound, which caused him to quake, And shiver and shake, From the crown of his head to the sole of his stocking. So yielding himself with a touching submission To what he considered a vile imposition, He handed the bag with the tin to the highwayman, who took it, and saying, in rather a dry way, 'Many thanks, gallant sir,' galloped off down a bye way."

The town council has met, and his worship the Mayor, Master Zachary Blair, Having taken the chair, And sat in it too, which was nothing but fair, Did at once, then and there, Relate and declare, With a dignified air, And a presence most rare, The tale we've just heard, which made all men to stare, And indignantly swear, It was too bad to bear. Then after they'd fully discussed the affair, To find out the best method of setting things square, They agreed one and all the next night to repair, Upon horseback, or mare, To the highwayman's lair, And, if he appeared, hunt him down like a hare.

Over No-Man's-Land the moon shines bright, And the furze and the fern in its liquid light Glitter and gleam of a silvery white; The lengthened track which the cart-wheels make, Winds o'er the heath like a mighty snake, And silence o'er that lonely wold Doth undisputed empire hold, Save where the night-breeze fitfully Mourns like some troubled spirit's cry; At the cross roads the old sign-post Shows dimly forth, like sheeted ghost, As with weird arm, extended still, It points the road to Leamsford Mill; In fact it is not At all a sweet spot, A nice situation, Or charming location; The late Robins himself, in despite his vocation, Would have deemed this a station Unworthy laudation, And have probably termed it "a blot on the nation."

'Tisn't pleasant to wait In a fidgety state Of mind, at an hour we deem very late, When our fancies have fled Home to supper and bed, And we feel we are catching a cold in the head; To wait, I repeat, For a robber or cheat, On a spot he's supposed to select for his beat, When said robber wont come's the reverse of a treat.

So thought the butcher, and so thought the baker, And so thought the joiner and cabinet-maker, And so thought all the rest except Jonathan Blaker; To him catching a thief in the dead of the night Presented a source of unfailing delight; And now as he sat Peering under his hat, He looked much like a terrier watching a rat.

Hark! he hears a muffled sound; He slips from the saddle, his ear's to the ground. Louder and clearer, Nearer and nearer, 'Tis a horse's tramp on the soft green sward! He is mounted again: "Now, good my Lord, Now, master Mayor, mark well, if you can, A rider approaches, is this your man?"

Ay, mark that coal-black barb that skims, With flowing mane and graceful limbs, As lightly onward o'er the lea As greyhound from the leash set free; Observe the rider's flashing eye, His gallant front and bearing high; His slender form, which scarce appears Fitted to manhood's riper years; The easy grace with which at need He checks or urges on his steed; Can this be one whose fame is spread For deeds of rapine and of dread?

Hurrah! hurrah! He's off and away, Follow who can, follow who may. There's hunting and chasing And going the pace in Despite of the light, which is not good for racing. "Hold hard! hold hard! there's somebody spilt, And entirely kilt!" "Well, never mind, Leave him behind,"-- The pace is a great deal too good to be kind. Follow, follow, O'er hill and hollow,-- Faster, faster, Another disaster! His worship the Mayor has got stuck in a bog. And there let us leave him to spur and to flog, He'll know better the next time,--a stupid old dog! "Where's Hobbs?" "I don't know." "And Dobbs and the snobs?" "All used-up long ago." "My nag's almost blown!" "And mine's got a stone In his shoe--I'm afraid it's no go. Why, I say! That rascally highwayman's getting away!"

'Tis true. Swift as the trackless wind, The gallant barb leaves all behind; Hackney and hunter still in vain Exert each nerve, each sinew strain; And all in vain that motley-crew Of horsemen still the chase pursue. Two by two, and one by one, They lag behind--'tis nearly done, That desperate game, that eager strife, That fearful race for death or life. Those dark trees gained that skirt the moor, All danger of pursuit is o'er; Screened by their shade from every eye, Escape becomes a certainty. Haste! for with stern, relentless will ONE RIDER'S ON THY TRACES STILL!

Oh, faster spur thy flagging steed, Still faster,--fearful is thy need. Oh, heed not now his failing breath, Life lies before, behind thee death! Warning all vainly given! too late To shield thee from the stroke of fate. One glance the fierce pursuer threw, A pistol from his holster drew, Levelled and fired, the echoes still Prolong the sound from wood to hill; But ere the last vibrations die, A WOMAN'S shriek of agony Rings out beneath that midnight sky!

Share on: WhatsApp @Hash Facebook Tweet