Poems by Robert Southey Part 6

Each evening at return a meal I found And, tho' my bed was hard, my sleep was sound.

One Whitsuntide, to go to fair, I drest Like a great b.u.mkin in my Sunday's best; A primrose posey in my hat I stuck And to the revel went to try my luck.

From show to show, from booth to booth I stray, See stare and wonder all the live-long day.

A Serjeant to the fair recruiting came Skill'd in man-catching to beat up for game; Our booth he enter'd and sat down by me;-- Methinks even now the very scene I see!

The canva.s.s roof, the hogshead's running store, The old blind fiddler seated next the door, The frothy tankard pa.s.sing to and fro And the rude rabble round the puppet-show; The Serjeant eyed me well--the punch-bowl comes, And as we laugh'd and drank, up struck the drums-- And now he gives a b.u.mper to his Wench-- G.o.d save the King, and then--G.o.d d.a.m.n the French.

Then tells the story of his last campaign.

How many wounded and how many slain, Flags flying, cannons roaring, drums a-beating, The English marching on, the French retreating,-- "Push on--push on my lads! they fly before ye, "March on to riches, happiness and glory!"

At first I wonder'd, by degrees grew bolder, Then cried--"tis a fine thing to be a soldier!"

"Aye Humphrey!" says the Serjeant--"that's your name?

"'Tis a fine thing to fight the French for fame!

"March to the field--knock out a Mounseer's brains "And pick the scoundrel's pocket for your pains.

"Come Humphrey come! thou art a lad of spirit!

"Rise to a halbert--as I did--by merit!

"Would'st thou believe it? even I was once "As thou art now, a plough-boy and a dunce; "But Courage rais'd me to my rank. How now boy!

"Shall Hero Humphrey still be Numps the plough-boy?

"A proper shaped young fellow! tall and straight!

"Why thou wert made for glory! five feet eight!

"The road to riches is the field of fight,-- "Didst ever see a guinea look so bright?

"Why regimentals Numps would give thee grace, "A hat and feather would become that face; "The girls would crowd around thee to be kist-- "Dost love a girl?" "Od Zounds!" I cried "I'll list!"

So past the night: anon the morning came, And off I set a volunteer for fame.

"Back shoulders, turn out your toes, hold up your head, "Stand easy!" so I did--till almost dead.

Oh how I long'd to tend the plough again Trudge up the field and whistle o'er the plain, When tir'd and sore amid the piteous throng Hungry and cold and wet I limp'd along, And growing fainter as I pa.s.s'd and colder, Curs'd that ill hour when I became a soldier!

In town I found the hours more gayly pa.s.s And Time fled swiftly with my girl and gla.s.s; The girls were wonderous kind and wonderous fair, They soon transferred me to the Doctor's care, The Doctor undertook to cure the evil, And he almost transferred me to the Devil.

'Twere tedious to relate the dismal story Of fighting, fasting, wretchedness and glory.

At last discharg'd, to England's sh.o.r.es I came Paid for my wounds with want instead of fame, Found my fair friends and plunder'd as they bade me, They kist me, coax'd me, robb'd me and betray'd me.

Tried and condemn'd his Majesty transports me, And here in peace, I thank him, he supports me, So ends my dismal and heroic story And Humphrey gets more good from guilt than glory.

JOHN, SAMUEL, & RICHARD.

(Time, Evening.)

JOHN.

'Tis a calm pleasant evening, the light fades away, And the Sun going down has done watch for the day.

To my mind we live wonderous well when transported, It is but to work and we must be supported.

Fill the cann, d.i.c.k! success here to Botany Bay!

RICHARD.

Success if you will,--but G.o.d send me away.

JOHN.

Ah! you lubberly landsmen don't know when you're well; Hadst thou known half the hards.h.i.+ps of which I can tell!

The sailor has no place of safety in store-- From the tempest at sea, to the press-gang on sh.o.r.e!

When Roguery rules all the rest of the earth, G.o.d be thanked in this corner I've got a good birth.

Talk of hards.h.i.+ps! what these are the sailor don't know!

'Tis the soldier my friend that's acquainted with woe, Long journeys, short halting, hard work and small pay, To be popt at like pidgeons for sixpence a day!-- Thank G.o.d! I'm safe quarter'd at Botany Bay.

JOHN:

Ah! you know but little! I'll wager a pot I have suffer'd more evils than fell to your lot.

Come we'll have it all fairly and properly tried, Tell story for story, and d.i.c.k shall decide.

SAMUEL:

Done.

JOHN:

Done. 'Tis a wager and I shall be winner; Thou wilt go without grog Sam to-morrow at dinner.

SAMUEL:

I was trapp'd by the Serjeant's palavering pretences, He listed me when I was out of my senses.

So I took leave to-day of all care and all sorrow And was drill'd to repentance and reason to-morrow.

JOHN:

I would be a sailor and plough the wide ocean, And was soon sick and sad with the billow's commotion.

So the Captain he sent me aloft on the mast, And curs'd me, and bid me cry there--and hold fast!

SAMUEL:

After marching all day, faint and hungry and sore, I have lain down at night on the swamps of the moor, Unshelter'd and forced by fatigue to remain.

All chill'd by the wind and benumb'd by the rain.

JOHN:

I have rode out the storm when the billows beat high And the red gleaming lightnings flash'd thro' the dark sky, When the tempest of night the black sea overcast Wet and weary I labour'd, yet sung to the blast.

SAMUEL:

I have march'd, trumpets sounding--drums beating--flags flying, Where the music of war drown'd the shrieks of the dying, When the shots whizz'd around me all dangers defied, Push'd on when my comrades fell dead at my side, Drove the foe from the mouth of the Cannon away, Fought, conquer'd and bled, all for sixpence a day.