A Selection from the Works of Frederick Locker Part 14

CIRc.u.mSTANCE.

THE ORANGE.

It ripened by the river banks, Where, mask and moonlight aiding, Dons Blas' and Juans play sad pranks, Dark Donnas serenading.

By Moorish maiden it was plucked, Who broke some hearts they say then: By Saxon sweetheart it was sucked, --Who flung the peel away then.

How should she know in Pimlico Or t'other girl in Seville, That _I_ should reel upon that peel, And wish them at the Devil!

ARCADIA.

The healthy-wealthy-wise affirm That early birds secure the worm, (The worm rose early too!) Who scorns his couch should glean by rights A world of pleasant sounds and sights That vanish with the dew:

One planet from his watch released Fast fading from the purple east, As morning waxes stronger; The comely c.o.c.k that vainly strives To crow from sleep his drowsy wives, Who would be dozing longer.

Uxorious Chanticleer! and hark!

Upraise thine eyes, and find the lark,-- The matutine musician Who heavenward soars on rapture's wings, Though sought, unseen,--who mounts and sings In musical derision.

From sea-girt pile, where n.o.bles dwell, A daughter waves her sire "farewell,"

Across the sunlit water: All these I heard, or saw--for fun I stole a march upon that sun, And then upon that daughter.

This Lady Fair, the county's pride, A white lamb trotting at her side, Had hied her through the park; A fond and gentle foster-dam-- May be she slumbered with her lamb, Thus rising with the lark!

The lambkin frisked, the lady fain Would coax him back, she called in vain, The rebel proved unruly; I followed for the maiden's sake, A pilgrim in an angel's wake, A happy pilgrim truly!

The maid gave chase, the lambkin ran As only woolly truant can Who never felt a crook; But stayed at length, as if disposed To drink, where tawny sands disclosed The margin of a brook.

His mistress, who had followed fast, Cried, "Little rogue, you're caught at last; I'm cleverer than you."

Then straight the wanderer conveyed Where wayward shrubs, in tangled shade, Protected her from view.

And timidly she glanced around, All fearful lest the slightest sound Might mortal footfall be; Then shrinkingly she stepped aside One moment--and her garter tied The truant to a tree.

Perhaps the World may wish to know The hue of this enchanting bow, And if 'twere silk or lace; No, not from me, be pleased to think It might be either--blue or pink, 'Twas tied--with maiden grace.

Suffice it that the child was fair, As Una sweet, with golden hair, And come of high degree; And though her feet were pure from stain, She turned her to the brook again, And laved them dreamingly.

Awhile she sat in maiden mood, And watched the shadows in the flood, That varied with the stream; And as each pretty foot she dips, The ripples ope their crystal lips In welcome, as 'twould seem.

Such reveries are fleeting things, Which come and go on whimsy wings,-- As kindly Fancy taught her The Fair her tender day-dream nurst; But when the light-blown bubble burst, She wearied of the water;

Betook her to the spot where yet Safe tethered lay her captured pet, But lifting, with a start, her Astonished gaze, she spied a change, And screamed--it seemed so very strange!...

Cried Echo,--"Where's my garter?"

The blus.h.i.+ng girl her lamb led home, Perhaps resolved no more to roam At peep of day together; If chance so takes them, it is plain She will not venture forth again Without an extra tether!

A fair white stone will mark this morn, I wear a prize, one lightly worn, Love's gage--though not intended-- Of course I'll guard it near my heart, Till suns and even stars depart, And chivalry has ended.

Dull World! I now resign to you Those crosses, stars, and ribbons blue, With which you deck your martyrs: I'll bear my cross amid your jars, My ribbon prize, and thank my stars I do not crave your garters.

THE CROSSING-SWEEPER.

AZLA AND EMMA.

_A crossing-sweeper, black and tan, Tells how he came from Hindustan, And why he wears a hat, and shunned The fatherland of Pugree Bund._

My wife had charms, she wors.h.i.+pped me,-- Her father was a Caradee, His deity was aquatile, A rough and tough old Crocodile.

To gratify this monster's maw He sacrificed his sons-in-law; We married, tho' the neighbours said he Had lost five sons-in-law already.

Her father, when he played these pranks, Proposed "a turn" on Jumna's banks; He spoke so kind, she seemed so glum, I knew at once that mine had come.

I fled before this artful ruse To cook my too-confiding goose, And now I sweep, in chill despair, This crossing in St. James's Square;

Some old _Qui-hy_, some rural flat May drop a sixpence in my hat; Yet still I mourn the mango-tree Where Azla first grew fond of me.

These rogues, who swear my skin is tawny, Would p.a.w.n their own for brandy-p.a.w.nee; What matters it if theirs are snowy, As Chloe fair! They're drunk as Chloe!

Your town is vile. In Thames's stream The crocodiles get up the steam!

Your juggernauts their victims b.u.mp From Camberwell to Aldgate pump!

A year ago, come Candlemas, I wooed a plump Feringhee la.s.s; United at her idol fane, I furnished rooms in Idol Lane.

A moon had waned when virtuous Emma Involved me in a new dilemma: The Brahma faith that Emma scorns Impaled me tight on both its horns:

_She vowed to die if she survived me_; Of this sweet fancy she deprived me, She ran from all her obligations, And went to stay with her relations.

My Azla weeps by Jumna's deeps, But Emma mocks my trials,-- She pokes her jokes in Seven Oaks, At me in Seven Dials,-- She'd see me farther still, than be, Though Veeshnu wills it--my _Suttee_!

A SONG THAT WAS NEVER SUNG.

Thou sayest our friends are only dead To idle mirth and sorrow, Regretful tears for what is fled, And yearnings for to-morrow.

Alas, that love should know alloy-- How frail the cup that holds our joy!

Thou sighest, "How sweet it were to rove Those paths of asphodel; Where all we prize, and all who love, Rejoice!" Ah, who can tell?