"When the summer night descended
Sleepy, on the white witch water,
Came a lithe and lovely maiden,
Gazing on the silent water—
Gazing on the gleaming river—
With her azure eyes and tender
On the river glancing forward,
Till the laughing wave sprang upward,
Upward from his reedy hollow
With the lily in his bosom,
With his crown of water lilies—
Curling every dimpled ripple
As he sprang into the starlight,
As he clasped her charmed reflection
Glowing to his crystal bosom,
As he whispered, 'Fairest, fairest,
Rest upon this crystal bosom!'
And she straightway did accordin';—
Down into the water stept she,
Down into the wavering river,
Like a red deer in the sunset—
Like a ripe leaf in the autumn:
From her lips, as rose-buds snow-filled,
Came a soft and dreamy murmur,
Softer than the breath of summer,
Softer than the murm'ring river,
Than the cooing of Cushawa—
Sighs that melted as the snows melt,
Silently and sweetly melted;
Sounds that mingled with the crisping
Foam upon the billow resting:
Yet she spoke not, only murmured.
"From the forest shade primeval,
Piggey-Wiggey looked out at her;
He, the very Youthful Porker—
He, the Everlasting Grunter—
Gazed upon her there, and wondered!
With his nose out, Rokey Pokey—
And his tail up, Curley Wurley—
Wondered what on earth the joke was,
Wondered what the girl was up to—
What the deuce her little game was,
Why she didn't squeak and grunt more!
And she floated down the river
Like a water-proof Ophelia;
For her crinoline sustained her."
We may look, and look in vain, through the long list of Leech's delightful creations for anything more lovely, more exquisitely dainty, than this floating damsel, with grace and charm in every line of her. I am sure my readers will join me in gratitude to Mr. Pennell for having given occasion for a picture that is "a joy for ever."
Leech's remaining drawing illustrates a poem entitled "Rejected Addresses," not in any way, I think, intended as a parody of any of the celebrated "Rejected Addresses" of Messrs. Smith—addresses, it will be remembered, that were written in the manner of various poets who flourished early in this century. Mr. Pennell deals with a certain Alderman, a Sir Toby, who was
"An Alderman of the very first degree,
But neither wife nor son had he:
He had a daughter fair—
And often said her father, 'Cis,
You shall be dubbed "my Lady," Miss,
When I am dubbed Lord Mayor.'"
"Sir Gobble Grist" was the aged swain of parental choice, but, as is not uncommon in such cases, the choice was not favoured by one of the parties concerned in it. The Alderman was, however, peremptory, for he says to the pretty Cis:
"'The day I don the gown and chain,
In Hymen's modern Fetter Lane
You wed Sir Gobble Grist;
And whilst with pomp and pageant high
I scrape, and strut, and star it by
St. George's in the East, you'll try
St. George's in the West.'
"Oh, vision of parental pride!
Oh, blessed Groom to such a Bride!
Oh, happy Lady Cis!
Yet sparks must always strike the match,
And miss may chance to lose her 'catch,'
Or he may catch a miss!
"Such things do happen, here and there
When knights are old, and nymphs are fair,
And who can say they don't?
When Worldly takes the gilded pill,
And Dives stands and says, 'I will,'
And Beauty says, 'I won't.'