What boots it to tell of the viands, or how she
Apologized much for their plain water-souchy,
Want of Harvey's, and Cross's,
And Burgess's sauces?
Or how Rupert, on his side, protested, by Jove, he
Preferr'd his fish plain, without soy or anchovy.
Suffice it the meal
Boasted trout, perch, and eel,
Besides some remarkably fine salmon peel,
The Knight, sooth to say, thought much less of the fishes
Than what they were served on, the massive gold dishes;
While his eye, as it glanced now and then on the girls,
Was caught by their persons much less than their pearls,
And a thought came across him and caused him to muse,
"If I could but get hold
Of some of that gold,
I might manage to pay off my rascally Jews!"
When dinner was done, at a sign to the lasses,
The table was clear'd, and they put on fresh glasses;
Then the lady addrest
Her redoubtable guest
Much as Dido, of old, did the pious Eneas,
"Dear sir, what induced you to come down and see us?"—
Rupert gave her a glance most bewitchingly tender,
Loll'd back in his chair, put his toes on the fender,
And told her outright
How that he, a young Knight,
Had never been last at a feast or a fight;
But that keeping good cheer
Every day in the year,
And drinking neat wines all the same as small-beer,
Had exhausted his rent,
And, his money all spent,
How he borrow'd large sums at two hundred per cent.;
How they follow'd—and then,
The once civilest of men,
Messrs. Howard and Gibbs, made him bitterly rue it he'd
Ever raised money by way of annuity;
And, his mortgages being about to foreclose,
How he jumped into the river to finish his woes!
Lurline was affected, and own'd, with a tear,
That a story so mournful had ne'er met her ear:
Rupert, hearing her sigh,
Look'd uncommonly sly,
And said, with some emphasis, "Ah! miss, had I
A few pounds of those metals
You waste here on kettles,
Then, Lord once again
Of my spacious domain,
A free Count of the Empire once more I might reign,
With Lurline at my side,
My adorable bride
(For the parson should come, and the knot should be tied);
No couple so happy on earth should be seen
As Sir Rupert the brave and his charming Lurline;
Not that money's my object—No, hang it! I scorn it—
And as for my rank—but that YOU'D so adorn it—
I'd abandon it all
To remain your true thrall,
And, instead of 'the GREAT,' be call'd 'Rupert the SMALL,'
—To gain but your smiles, were I Sardanapalus,
I'd descend from my throne, and be boots at an alehouse."
Lurline hung her head
Turn'd pale, and then red,
Growing faint at this sudden proposal to wed,
As though his abruptness, in "popping the question"
So soon after dinner, disturb'd her digestion.
Then, averting her eye,
With a lover-like sigh,
"You are welcome," she murmur'd in tones most bewitching,
"To every utensil I have in my kitchen!"
Upstarted the Knight,
Half mad with delight,
Round her finely-form'd waist
He immediately placed
One arm, which the lady most closely embraced,
Of her lily-white fingers the other made capture,
And he press'd his adored to his bosom with rapture,
"And, oh!" he exclaim'd, "let them go catch my skiff,
I'll be home in a twinkling and back in a jiffy,
Nor one moment procrastinate longer my journey
Than to put up the bans and kick out the attorney."
One kiss to her lip, and one squeeze to her hand
And Sir Rupert already was half-way to land,
For a sour-visaged Triton,
With features would frighten
Old Nick, caught him up in one hand, though no light one,
Sprang up through the waves, popp'd him into his funny,
Which some others already had half-fill'd with money;
In fact, 'twas so heavily laden with ore
And pearls, 'twas a mercy he got it to shore;
But Sir Rupert was strong,
And while pulling along,
Still he heard, faintly sounding, the water-nymphs' song.
LAY OF THE NAIADS.
"Away! away! to the mountain's brow,
Where the castle is darkly frowning;
And the vassals, all in goodly row,
Weep for their lord a-drowning!
Away! away! to the steward's room,
Where law with its wig and robe is;
Throw us out John Doe and Richard Roe,
And sweetly we'll tidde their tobies!"
The unearthly voices scarce had ceased their yelling,
When Rupert reach'd his old baronial dwelling.
What rejoicing was there!
How the vassals did stare!
The old housekeeper put a clean shirt down to air,
For she saw by her lamp
That her master's was damp,
And she fear'd he'd catch cold, and lumbago, and cramp;
But, scorning what she did,
The Knight never heeded
Wet jacket, or trousers, or thought of repining,
Since their pockets had got such a delicate lining.
But, oh! what dismay
Fill'd the tribe of Ca Sa,
When they found he'd the cash, and intended to pay!
Away went "cognovits," "bills," "bonds," and "escheats,"
Rupert cleared off old scores, and took proper receipts.
Now no more he sends out,
For pots of brown stout,
Or schnapps, but resolves to do henceforth without,
Abjure from this hour all excess and ebriety,
Enroll himself one of a Temp'rance Society,
All riot eschew,
Begin life anew,
And new-cushion and hassock the family pew!
Nay, to strengthen him more in this new mode of life
He boldly determined to take him a wife.