The widow is ruined, her stock seized for debt
She is sent to the workhouse; the shop is to let.
Let all honest widows be warned by her fate—
How dared she do work at a minute past eight!
O Lubbock, when moving your merciless Bill,
You exclaimed, in a voice that made Westminster thrill,
“What crimes are committed in Liberty’s name!”—
“In Humanity’s” surely you meant to exclaim.
The Rigadoon.
(A PASTORAL ROMANCE.)
HE sweetest joy for him on earth
Was not the Menad’s maddened mirth,
For him no subtle joyance hid
The blood-feast of the Bassarid;
But when unto the village green,
The Strephons came with modest mien,
And bashful Chloes there would steal,
He gaily danced a Highland reel.
The manor’s lord—he knew not why—
His cards bore only plain “Sir Guy”;
Nor had he e’er been known to claim,
In peace or war, another name.
Of noble blood and ancient race,
Of lissom limb and florid face,
He scorned his rent-roll, though ’twas big,
And revelled in the Irish jig.
Of Irish blood and Scotch descent,
New grace to jig and reel he lent;
But, being British to the core,
He would not England’s dance ignore.
So, when his tenants flocked around
To see him nimbly twist and bound.
Before he blessed them and withdrew,
He always danced a hornpipe too.
From youth to manhood, day by day,
Sir Guy would dance the years away,
Beloved by all he lived among,
The grave and gay, the old and young;
Performing for the common weal
The jig, the hornpipe, and the reel.
And these he might be dancing yet,
Had he not made a foolish bet.
It happened thus. To Arcadee
There came one day a young M.P.
Who sneered, when flushed with beer and wine,
At all things human and Divine.
He joined the crowd upon the green,
Assumed a supercilious mien,
And when Sir Guy had done, he said,
“A kid could lick him on its head.”
The crowd drew back in sudden awe,
Which, when the sneering stranger saw,
He flung his glove upon the ground,
And cried, “Sir Guy, a thousand pound
I’ll bet you that you cannot dance
A little thing I saw in France:
Its English name’s the Rigadoon.”
Sir Guy replied, “Good-afternoon.”