| Dick’s whole
estate. | NOW when the merchant gave to Dick
That kitten for his own,
No thing he had alive or dead
On earth save it alone.
|
| His regret at
its loss; | And so enamour’d had he grown
Of this his property,
That sooth his heart did sorely smart
When Puss was sent to sea.
|
| His melancholy
vein, | Then all was lonely as before;
Again he rued his plight:
He moped in solitude all day,
And lay awake all night.
|
| and wayward
fancy. | So dismal and so desolate
The granary now it seem’d,
He long’d in the green fields to be,
And where the sunshine gleam’d.
|
|
He deserts
his trust, | Alas! how weak our nature is
Its cravings to resist:
For Dick betray’d his master’s trust
To follow his own list.
|
| and wanders
into the
fields. | He stroll’d abroad into the fields,
He knew not where nor why;
Regardless of his duty quite
About the granary.
|
| The Lord
Mayor’s day. | Now as it chanced the new Lord Mayor
Of London, that same day,
To meet the king at Westminster
In state had ta’en his way.
|
| Bow bells
| With such a charge the city-barge
Did proudly flaunt along:
And the bells of Bow were nothing slow
To greet him with—ding, dong.
|
| heard by
Dick. | While truant Dick all sad and sick
Was wandering in despair,
Hark! hark! the music of Bow-bells
Came wafted on the air.
|
|
What they
seemed to
say. | They seem’d to say—Turn Whit-ting-ton:
Again turn Whit-ting-ton:
And when he listen’d still, they said—
Lord May-or of Lon-don.
|
| Again he heard the self-same words
Repeated by the chimes;
Yet trusted not, till he had heard
The same an hundred times.
|
| His repentance
and
return. | “It must be so: and I will go
Back to my granary.
Oh shame! to be so false while he
Was true and kind to me.”
|
| He turn’d, and reach’d the granary
Before the fall of day:
And not a living soul e’er knew
That he had run away.
|
| his good
resolves, | This foolish prank he sorely rued;
But now that it was o’er,
And he all right again, he vow’d
He ne’er would do so more.
|
|
rewarded by
peace of
mind. | And so that night in peace he slept,
And so to joy he rose:
But while he slept, he thought he trod
Upon the Lord Mayor’s toes.
|
| His prophetic
dream. | Patience—patience! my little boy;
Take heed to save your skin:
The Lord Mayor is a portly man,
And thou but small and thin.
|
| Beware of cage, beware of cat
That tails hath three times three:
For he may strip, and he may whip,
And he may ’mprison thee.
|
| All in his sleep this sage advice
Seem’d whisper’d to his ear:
Nathless right on the Lord Mayor’s toe
He stood withouten fear.
|
| A visiter
| Again the day had pass’d away,
And night was creeping o’er,
When such a knock as mote him shock
Was thunder’d at his door.
|
|
brings tidings
of his
luck. | “Hallo! hallo! why batter so?”
In trembling voice he sung:
Whereat wide-open flew the door,
And in the Captain sprung.
|
| “Good luck, good luck! my jolly buck!
Why whimper there and whine?
Cheer up now Maister Whittington,
For—all the cargo’s thine.”
|
| His incredulity. | But Dick was so much used to woe,
He dared not trust on weal:
Nor had he zest to point a jest
To rouse the sailor’s peal.
|
| The congratulations
of the household. | Till soon the household made aware
Came rattling at the door,
And greeted Maister Whittington,
Who was poor Dick before.
|
| They led him forth a man of worth,
And humbly call’d him Sire;
And placed him in a huge arm-chair
Before the merchant’s fire.
|
| The good man heard the rumour’d word
And eke his daughter fair;
And both ran straight to where he sate
All in this huge arm-chair.
|
| ’Twas then the merchant laugh’d aloud,
And then the maiden smiled:
And then the servants bow’d to him
They had before reviled.
|
| The virtue
of riches. | For Poverty may blameless be,
Yet is an unblest thing;
And wealth, for all that good men preach,
Doth sure obeisance bring.
|
| This truth found Dick, who grew full quick
Into an honour’d man;
Yet was he loth to let his luck
Abide where it began.
|
| His active
industry, | So join’d he jolly venturers
In every good emprise;
It was no niggard share he staked
In all their argosies.
|
|
rewarded. | All lucky he came off at sea;
But luckier far on land,
Whenas the merchant’s daughter fair
Gave him her heart and hand.
|
| His honours. | Next he became an Alderman,
And Lord Mayor before long:
And then—oh! how the bells of Bow
Did greet him with ding-dong.
|
| E’en on that day they seem’d to say
Lord May-or of Lon-don:
But when he listen’d still they said
Sir Rich-ard Whit-ting-ton.
|
| His charity.
| Then thought he on the luckless lad
That swept the granary floor;
Nor ever in the pride of wealth
Did he forget the poor.
|
| And so God save our good Lord Mayor,
And give him wealth and wit:
But never let a prentice-lad
Dick Whittington forget.
|
