Despite these perfections, corporeal and mental, He had one slight defect, viz. a rather lean rental; Besides, as 'tis own'd there are spots in the sun, So it must be confessed that Sir Rupert had one; Being rather unthinking, He'd scarce sleep a wink in A night, but addict himself sadly to drinking, And, what moralists say Is as naughty—to play, To Rouge et Noir, Hazard, Short Whist, Ecarté; Till these, and a few less defensible fancies Brought the Knight to the end of his slender finances.
When at length through his boozing, And tenants refusing Their rents, swearing "times were so bad they were losing," His steward said, "O, sir, It's some time ago, sir, Since ought through my hands reach'd the baker or grocer, And the tradesmen in general are grown great complainers." Sir Rupert the brave thus addressed his retainers:
"My friends, since the stock Of my father's old hock Is out, with the Kürchwasser, Barsac, Moselle, And we're fairly reduced to the pump and the well, I presume to suggest, We shall all find it best For each to shake hands with his friends ere he goes, Mount his horse, if he has one, and—follow his nose; As to me, I opine, Left sans money or wine, My best way is to throw myself into the Rhine, Where pitying trav'lers may sigh, as they cross over, 'Though he lived a roué, yet he died a philosopher.'"
The Knight, having bow'd out his friends thus politely, Got into his skiff, the full moon shining brightly, By the light of whose beam, He soon spied on the stream A dame, whose complexion was fair as new cream; Pretty pink silken hose Cover'd ankles and toes, In other respects she was scanty of clothes; For, so says tradition, both written and oral, Her one garment was loop'd up with bunches of coral.
Full sweetly she sang to a sparkling guitar, With silver cords stretch'd over Derbyshire spar, And she smiled on the Knight, Who, amazed at the sight, Soon found his astonishment merged in delight; But the stream by degrees Now rose up to her knees, Till at length it invaded her very chemise, While the heavenly strain, as the wave seemed to swallow her, And slowly she sank, sounded fainter and hollower; —Jumping up in his boat, And discarding his coat, "Here goes," cried Sir Rupert, "by jingo I'll follow her!" Then into the water he plunged with a souse That was heard quite distinctly by those in the house.
Down, down, forty fathom and more from the brink, Sir Rupert the Fearless continues to sink, And, as downward he goes, Still the cold water flows Through his ears, and his eyes, and his mouth, and his nose, Till the rum and the brandy he'd swallow'd since lunch Wanted nothing but lemon to fill him with punch; Some minutes elapsed since he enter'd the flood, Ere his heels touch'd the bottom, and stuck in the mud.
But oh! what a sight Met the eyes of the Knight, When he stood in the depth of the stream bolt upright!— A grand stalactite hall, Like the cave of Fingal, Rose above and about him;—great fishes and small Came thronging around him, regardless of danger, And seemed all agog for a peep at the stranger.
Their figures and forms to describe, language fails— They'd such very odd heads, and such very odd tails; Of their genus or species a sample to gain, You would ransack all Hungerford market in vain; E'en the famed Mr. Myers Would scarcely find buyers, Though hundreds of passengers doubtless would stop To stare, were such monsters expos'd in his shop.
But little reck'd Rupert these queer-looking brutes, Or the efts and the newts That crawled up his boots, For a sight, beyond any of which I've made mention, In a moment completely absorb'd his attention. A huge crystal bath, which, with water far clearer Than George Robins' filters, or Thorpe's (which are dearer), Have ever distill'd, To the summit was fill'd, Lay stretch'd out before him,—and every nerve thrill'd As scores of young women Were diving and swimming, Till the vision a perfect quandary put him in;— All slightly accoutred in gauzes and lawns, They came floating about him like so many prawns.
Sir Rupert, who (barring the few peccadilloes Alluded to,) ere he lept into the billows Possess'd irreproachable morals, began To feel rather queer, as a modest young man; When forth stepp'd a dame, whom he recognised soon As the one he had seen by the light of the moon, And lisp'd, while a soft smile attended each sentence, "Sir Rupert, I'm happy to make your acquaintance; My name is Lurline, And the ladies you've seen, All do me the honour to call me their Queen; I'm delighted to see you, sir, down in the Rhine here, And hope you can make it convenient to dine here."