Thomas Hood

"No doubt the pleasure is as great, Of being cheated as to cheat." - HUDIBRAS. The history of human-kind to trace,

On Hounslow Heath - and close beside the road, As western travellers may oft have seen, - A little house some years ago there stood,

When I reflect with serious sense, While years and years run on, How soon I may be summoned hence -

"A Calendar! a Calendar! look in the Almanac, find out moonshine - find out moonshine!" - Midsummer Night's Dream. I. The by-gone September,

A Friendly Address To Mrs. Fry In Newgate.[1] "Sermons in stones." - As You Like It. "Out! out! damned spot!" - Macbeth.

"Some are born with a wooden spoon in their mouths, and some with a golden ladle."        GOLDSMITH. "Some are born with tin rings in their noses, and

Thou happy, happy elf! (But stop, - first let me kiss away that tear) - Thou tiny image of myself!

"Sweet Memory, wafted by thy gentle gale, Oft up the stream of time I turn my sail." - ROGERS. Come, my Crony, let's think upon far-away days,

"Do you never deviate?" John Bull. In London once I lost my way

"Sit down and fall to, said the Barmecide." Arabian Nights. At seven you just nick it,

"Blow high, blow low." - SEA SONG. As Mister B. and Mistress B. One night were sitting down to tea,

I. Oh, when I was a tiny boy, My days and nights were full of joy,

There's some is born with their straight legs by natur - And some is born with bow-legs from the first - And some that should have grow'd a good deal straighter,

"Lullaby, oh, lullaby!" Thus I heard a father cry, "Lullaby, oh, lullaby!"

"Our Crummie is a dainty cow." - Scotch Song. On that first Saturday in May, When Lords and Ladies, great and grand,

'Twas August - Hastings every day was filling - Hastings, that "greenest spot on memory's waste"! With crowds of idlers willing and unwilling

"Old woman, old woman, will you go a-shearing? Speak a little louder, for I'm very hard of hearing." Old Ballad.

Of all our pains, since man was curst, I mean of body, not the mental, To name the worst, among the worst,

To Waterloo, with sad ado, And many a sigh and groan, Amongst the dead, came Patty Head,

One Sunday morning - service done - 'Mongst tombstones shining in the sun, A knot of bumpkins stood to chat

"Archer. How many are there, Scrub?" "Scrub. Five-and-forty, Sir." Beaux' Stratagem. "For shame - let the linen alone!" M. W. of Windsor.

"It is the king's highway that we are in, and in this way it is that thou hast placed the lions." - BUNYAN. What! shut the gardens; lock the latticed gate! Refuse the shilling and the Fellow's ticket!

"Coming events cast their shadow before." I had a vision in the summer light - Sorrow was in it, and my inward sight

Oh! what's befallen Bessy Brown, She stands so squalling in the street; She's let her pitcher tumble down,

The Autumn skies are flush'd with gold, And fair and bright the rivers run; These are but streams of winter cold,

The Autumn is old, The sere leaves are flying; - He hath gather'd up gold,

It was not in the Winter Our loving lot was cast; It was the Time of Roses, -

She's up and gone, the graceless girl, And robb'd my failing years! My blood before was thin and cold

I. Bianca! - fair Bianca! - who could dwell With safety on her dark and hazel gaze,

Good morrow to the golden morning, Good morrow to the world's delight - I've come to bless thy life's beginning,

'Tis strange how like a very dunce, Man - with his bumps upon his sconce, Has lived so long, and yet no knowledge he

One day the dreary old King of Death Inclined for some sport with the carnal, So he tied a pack of darts on his back,

"I really take it very kind, This visit, Mrs. Skinner! I have not seen you such an age -

"To point a moral." - JOHNSON. Fairest Lady and Noble, for once on a time, Condescend to accept, in the humblest of rhyme,

O Saw ye not fair Ines? She's gone into the West, To dazzle when the sun is down,

Ben Battle was a soldier bold, And used to war's alarms; But a cannon-ball took off his legs,

Young Ben he was a nice young man, A carpenter by trade; And he fell in love with Sally Brown,

Look how the lark soars upward and is gone, Turning a spirit as he nears the sky! His voice is heard, but body there is none

I will not have the mad Clytie, Whose head is turned by the sun; The tulip is a courtly queen,

It is not with a hope my feeble praise Can add one moment's honor to thy own, That with thy mighty name I grace these lays;

"Twa dogs, that were na thrang at hame, Forgather'd ance upon a time." - BURNS. One morn - it was the very morn

Two swains or clowns - but call them swains - Whilst keeping flocks on Salisbury plains, For all that tend on sheep as drovers

O Kate! my dear Partner, through joy and through strife! When I look back at Hymen's dear day, Not a lovelier bride ever chang'd to a wife,

Giver of glowing light! Though but a god of other days, The kings and sages

I love thee - I love thee! 'Tis all that I can say; - It is my vision in the night,

I remember, I remember, The house where I was born, The little window where the sun

A pretty task, Miss S -    - , to ask A Benedictine pen, That cannot quite at freedom write

"A Day after the Fair." - Old Proverb. John Day he was the biggest man Of all the coachman kind,

Well hast thou cried, departed Burke, All chivalrous romantic work Is ended now and past! -

A poor old king, with sorrow for my crown, Throned upon straw, and mantled with the wind - For pity, my own tears have made me blind

It's a shame, so it is, - men can't Let alone Jobs as is Woman's right to do - and go about there Own - Theirs Reforms enuff Alreddy without your new schools

All you that are too fond of wine, Or any other stuff, Take warning by the dismal fate

And has the earth lost its so spacious round, The sky its blue circumference above, That in this little chamber there is found

Go where the waves run rather Holborn-hilly, And tempest make a soda-water sea, Almost as rough as our rough Piccadilly,

(At No. 1, Newgate. Favored by Mr. Wontner.) O Mary, I believed you true, And I was blest in so believing;

Let us make a leap, my dear, In our love, of many a year, And date it very far away,

FROM AN UNROLLED MANUSCRIPT OF APOLLONIUS CURIUS. THE ARGUMENT. Lycus, detained by Circe in her magical dominion, is beloved by a Water Nymph, who, desiring to render him immortal, has recourse to the Sorceress. Circe gives her an incantation to pronounce, which should turn Lycus into a horse; but the horrible effect of the charm causing her to break off in the midst, he becomes a Centaur.

'Twas in the middle of the night, To sleep young William tried, When Mary's ghost came stealing in,

Unfathomable Night! how dost thou sweep Over the flooded earth, and darkly hide The mighty city under thy full tide;

A GOLDEN LEGEND. "What is here? Gold! yellow, glittering, precious gold?"

Let Taylor preach upon a morning breezy How well to rise while nights and larks are flying - For my part getting up seems not so easy

I. Ah me! those old familiar bounds! That classic house, those classic grounds

"By the North Pole, I do challenge thee!" Love's Labour's Lost. I.

"This fellow's wise enough to play the fool, And to do that well craves a kind of wit." Twelfth Night.

Come, let us set our careful breasts, Like Philomel, against the thorn, To aggravate the inward grief,

"Up with me! - up with me into the sky!" WORDSWORTH - on a Lark. I.

Oh Peace, oh come with me and dwell - But stop, for there's the bell. Oh Peace! for thee I go and sit in churches

MY DEAR SIR - The following Ode was written anticipating the tone of some strictures on my writings by the gentleman to whom it is addressed. I have not seen his book; but I know by hearsay that some

"Martin in this has proved himself a very good man!" - Boxiana. I.

"At certain seasons he makes a prodigious clattering with his bill." - SELBY. "The bill is rather long, flat, and tinged with green." - BEWICK. O Andrew Fairservice, - but I beg pardon,

"Sweeping our flocks and herds." - DOUGLAS. O Philanthropic men! - For this address I need not make apology -

"O breathe not his name!" - Moore. I. Thou Great Unknown!

I. Mother of light! how fairly dost thou go Over those hoary crests, divinely led! -

Author Of "The Cook's Oracle," "Observations On Vocal Music," "The Art Of Invigorating And Prolonging Life," "Practical Observations On Telescopes, Opera-Glasses, And Spectacles," "The Housekeeper's Ledger," And "The Pleasure Of Making A Will." "I rule the roast, as Milton says! " - Caleb Quotem. Oh! multifarious man!

I saw old Autumn in the misty morn Stand shadowless like Silence, listening To silence, for no lonely bird would sing

Our village, that's to say, not Miss Mitford's village, but our village of Bullock Smithy, Is come into by an avenue of trees, three oak pollards, two elders, and a withy; And in the middle there's a green, of about not exceeding an acre and a half;

"Who'll serve the King?" What little urchin is there never Hath had that early scarlet fever,

A little fairy comes at night, Her eyes are blue, her hair is brown, With silver spots upon her wings,

Well, the country's a pleasant place, sure enough, for people that's country born, And useful, no doubt, in a natural way, for growing our grass and our corn. It was kindly meant of my cousin Giles, to write and invite me down,

She stood breast high amid the corn Clasp'd by the golden light of morn, Like the sweetheart of the sun,

"He left his body to the sea, And made a shark his legatee." BRYAN AND PERENNE.

Ah, sweet, thou little knowest how I wake and passionate watches keep; And yet while I address thee now,

"The charge is prepar'd." - Macheath. If I shoot any more I'll be shot, For ill-luck seems determined to star me,

O Lady, leave thy silken thread And flowery tapestrie: There's living roses on the bush,

The stars are with the voyager Wherever he may sail; The moon is constant to her time;

Shall I rebuke thee, Ocean, my old love, That once, in rage, with the wild winds at strife, Thou darest menace my unit of a life,

Love, dearest Lady, such as I would speak, Lives not within the humor of the eye; - Not being but an outward phantasy,

By ev'ry sweet tradition of true hearts, Graven by Time, in love with his own lore; By all old martyrdoms and antique smarts,

It is not death, that sometime in a sigh This eloquent breath shall take its speechless flight; That sometime these bright stars, that now reply

No popular respect will I omit To do thee honor on this happy day, When every loyal lover tasks his wit

Look how the golden ocean shines above Its pebbly stones, and magnifies their girth; So does the bright and blessed light of Love

There is a silence where hath been no sound, There is a silence where no sound may be, In the cold grave - under the deep deep sea,

Young ardent soul, graced with fair Nature's truth, Spring warmth of heart, and fervency of mind, And still a large late love of all thy kind.

The curse of Adam, the old curse of all, Though I inherit in this feverish life Of worldly toil, vain wishes, and hard strife,

How bravely Autumn paints upon the sky The gorgeous fame of Summer which is fled! Hues of all flow'rs, that in their ashes lie,

I saw pale Dian, sitting by the brink Of silver falls, the overflow of fountains From cloudy steeps; and I grew sad to think

Is there a bitter pang for love removed, O God! The dead love doth not cost more tears Than the alive, the loving, the beloved -

Farewell, Life! My senses swim, And the world is growing dim; Thronging shadows cloud the light,

"Resigned, I kissed the rod." Well! I think it is time to put up! For it does not accord with my notions,

"Now's the time and now's the hour," - BURNS. "Seven's the main." - CROCKFORD. Pity the sorrows of a class of men,

My pipe is lit, my grog is mix'd, My curtains drawn and all is snug; Old Puss is in her elbow-chair,

"Drown'd! drown'd!" - Hamlet. One more Unfortunate, Weary of breath,

What's life but full of care and doubt With all its fine humanities, With parasols we walk about,

I sawe a Mayd sitte on a Bank, Beguiled by Wooer fayne and fond; And whiles His flatterynge Vowes She drank,

Good-Morning, Mr. What-d'ye-call! Well! here's another pretty job! Lord help my Lady! - what a smash! - if you had only heard her sob! It was all through Mr. Lambert: but for certain he was winey,

"The Needles have sometimes been fatal to Mariners." Picture of Isle of Wight. I.

We watch'd her breathing through the night. Her breathing soft and low, As in her breast the wave of life

'Twas off the Wash - the sun went down - the sea look'd black and grim, For stormy clouds, with murky fleece, were mustering at the brim; Titanic shades! enormous gloom! - as if the solid night

Summer is gone on swallows' wings, And Earth has buried all her flowers: No more the lark,--the linnet--sings,

"Fly to the desert, fly with me." - LADY HESTER STANHOPE. 'Twas in the wilds of Lebanon, amongst its barren hills, - To think upon it, even now, my very blood it chills! -

I. 'Twas in the prime of summer time, An evening calm and cool,

Amongst the sights that Mrs. Bond Enjoyed yet grieved at more than others, Were little ducklings in a pond,

"Like the two Kings of Brentford smelling at one nosegay." In Brentford town, of old renown, There lived a Mister Bray,

"And this our life, exempt from public haunt, Finds tongues in trees." - As You Like It. 'Twas in a shady Avenue,

"I am, Sir," "With respects from your humble Servant," "BARTHOLOMEW RUTT."

The swallow with summer Will wing o'er the seas, The wind that I sigh to

"Down, down, down, ten thousand fathoms deep." Count Fathom. Who does not know that dreadful gulf, where Niagara falls,

"Who's here, beside foul weather?" - KING LEAR. "Mine enemy's dog, though he had bit me, Should have stood that night against my fire"

"Vell! Here I am - no Matter how it suits A-keeping Company vith them dumb Brutes; Old Park vos no bad Judge - confound his vig!

The dead are in their silent graves, And the dew is cold above, And the living weep and sigh,

Speaking within compass, as to fabulousness I prefer Southcote to Northcote. PIGROGROMITUS.

"I'll be your second." - LISTON. In Middle Row, some years ago, There lived one Mr. Brown;

Tom Simpson was as nice a kind of man As ever lived - at least at number Four, In Austin Friars, in Mrs. Brown's first floor,

"A jolly place, said he, in days of old, But something ails it now: the spot is curst." WORDSWORTH.

I. Alack! 'tis melancholy theme to think How Learning doth in rugged states abide,

"On the east coast, towards Tunis, the Moors still preserve the key of their ancestors' houses in Spain; to which country they still express the hopes of one day returning and again planting the crescent on the ancient walls of the Alhambra." - SCOTT'S Travels in Morocco and Algiers. "Is Spain cloven in such a manner as to want closing?" SANCHO PANZA.

The lady lay in her bed, Her couch so warm and soft, But her sleep was restless and broken still;

I. 'Twas in the year two thousand and one, A pleasant morning of May,

A spade! a rake! a hoe! A pickaxe, or a bill! A hook to reap, or a scythe to mow,

Sleet! and Hail! and Thunder! And ye Winds that rave, Till the sands thereunder

"Oh where, and oh where Is my bonny laddie gone?" Old Song.

I. 'Twas in that memorable year France threaten'd to put off in

Lov'st thou not, Alice, with the early tide To see the hardy Fisher hoist his mast, And stretch his sail towards the ocean wide, -

"Alas! what perils do environ That man who meddles with a siren!" - Hudibrus. On Margate beach, where the sick one roams,

Full of drink and full of meat, On our SAVIOUR'S natal day, CHARITY'S perennial treat;

I. 'Twas in that mellow season of the year When the hot sun singes the yellow leaves

But a bold pheasantry, their country's pride When once destroyed can never be supplied. GOLDSMITH.

What is a mine - a treasury - a dower - A magic talisman of mighty power? A poet's wide possession of the earth.

Oh happy time! - Art's early days! When o'er each deed, with sweet self-praise, Narcissus-like I hung!

-    - Methought I saw Life swiftly treading over endless space; And, at her foot-print, but a bygone pace,

With fingers weary and worn, With eyelids heavy and red, A woman sat, in unwomanly rags,

Scheherazade immediately began the following story. I. Ali Ben Ali (did you never read

The sun was slumbering in the West. My daily labors past; On Anna's soft and gentle breast

"Oh flesh, flesh, how art thou fishified!" - MERCUTIO I. 'Twas twelve o'clock by Chelsea chimes,

"I like to meet a sweep - such as come forth with the dawn, or somewhat earlier, with their little professional notes, sounding like the peep, peep, of a young sparrow." - ESSAYS OF ELIA. -    - "A voice cried Sweep no more!

I. Alas! That breathing Vanity should go Where Pride is buried, - like its very ghost,

I. Immortal Imogen, crown'd queen above The lilies of thy sex, vouchsafe to hear

"A plague o' both the houses!" - MERCUTIO. As latterly I chanced to pass A Public House, from which, alas!

"The clashing of my armor in my ears Sounds like a passing bell; my buckler puts me In mind of a bier; this, my broadsword, a pickaxe

Alas, the moon should ever beam To show what man should never see! - I saw a maiden on a stream,

Farewell, farewell, to my mother's own daughter. The child that she wet-nursed is lapp'd in the wave; The Mussulman, coming to fish in this water,

It was a merry company, And they were just afloat, When lo! a man, of dwarfish span,

One widow at a grave will sob A little while, and weep, and sigh! If two should meet on such a job,

There's a murmur in the air, And noise in every street - The murmur of many tongues,

Those evening bells, those evening bells, How many a tale their music tells, - Of Yorkshire cakes and crumpets prime,

Tim Turpin he was gravel blind, And ne'er had seen the skies: For Mature, when his head was made,

I heard a gentle maiden, in the spring, Set her sweet sighs to music, and thus sing: "Fly through the world, and I will follow thee,

Welcome, dear Heart, and a most kind good-morrow; The day is gloomy, but our looks shall shine: - Flowers I have none to give thee, but I borrow

Composed At Rotterdam. I. I gaze upon a city, -

Love thy mother, little one! Kiss and clasp her neck again, - Hereafter she may have a son

Lady, wouldst thou heiress be To Winters cold and cruel part? When he sets the rivers free,

Our hands have met, but not our hearts; Our hands will never meet again. Friends, if we have ever been,

Oh, 'tis a touching thing, to make one weep, - A tender infant with its curtain'd eye, Breathing as it would neither live nor die

Thine eyelids slept so beauteously, I deem'd No eyes could wake so beautiful as they: Thy rosy cheeks in such still slumbers lay,

O'er hill, and dale, and distant sea, Through all the miles that stretch between, My thought must fly to rest on thee,

Most delicate Ariel! submissive thing, Won by the mind's high magic to its hest - Invisible embassy, or secret guest, -

When little people go abroad, wherever they may roam, They will not just be treated as they used to be at home; So take a few promiscuous hints, to warn you in advance,

Oh! take, young Seraph, take thy harp, And play to me so cheerily; For grief is dark, and care is sharp,

Mary, you know I've no love nonsense, And though I pen on such a day, I don't mean flirting, on my conscience,

My temples throb, my pulses boil, I'm sick of Song and Ode and Ballad - So Thyrsis, take the midnight oil,

Dear Fanny! nine long years ago, While yet the morning sun was low, And rosy with the Eastern glow

Far above the hollow Tempest, and its moan, Singeth bright Apollo