Volume Ii Part 15 (2/2)

Dear madam, whene'er of a barrack I think, An I were to be hang'd, I can't sleep a wink: For if a new crotchet comes into my brain, I can't get it out, though I'd never so fain.

I fancy already a barrack contrived At Hamilton's bawn, and the troop is arrived; Of this to be sure, Sir Arthur has warning, And waits on the captain betimes the next morning.

”Now see, when they meet, how their honours behave; 'n.o.ble captain, your servant'--'Sir Arthur, your slave; You honour me much'--'The honour is mine.'-- ''Twas a sad rainy night'--'But the morning is fine.'-- 'Pray, how does my lady?'--'My wife's at your service.'-- 'I think I have seen her picture by Jervas.'-- 'Good-morrow, good captain'--'I'll wait on you down'-- 'You shan't stir a foot'--'You'll think me a clown.'-- 'For all the world, captain, not half an inch farther'-- 'You must be obey'd--Your servant, Sir Arthur!

My humble respects to my lady unknown.'-- 'I hope you will use my house as your own.'”

”Go bring me my smock, and leave off your prate, Thou hast certainly gotten a cup in thy pate.”

”Pray, madam, be quiet: what was it I said?

You had like to have put it quite out of my head.

Next day to be sure, the captain will come, At the head of his troop, with trumpet and drum.

Now, madam, observe how he marches in state: The man with the kettle-drum enters the gate: Dub, dub, adub, dub. The trumpeters follow.

Tantara, tantara; while all the boys holla.

See now comes the captain all daub'd with gold lace: O la! the sweet gentleman! look in his face; And see how he rides like a lord of the land, With the fine flaming sword that he holds in his hand; And his horse, the dear _creter_, it prances and rears; With ribbons in knots at its tail and its ears: At last comes the troop, by word of command, Drawn up in our court; when the captain cries, STAND!

Your ladys.h.i.+p lifts up the sash to be seen, For sure I had dizen'd you out like a queen.

The captain, to show he is proud of the favour, Looks up to your window, and c.o.c.ks up his beaver; (His beaver is c.o.c.k'd: pray, madam, mark that, For a captain of horse never takes off his hat, Because he has never a hand that is idle, For the right holds the sword, and the left holds the bridle;) Then flourishes thrice his sword in the air, As a compliment due to a lady so fair; (How I tremble to think of the blood it has spilt!) Then he lowers down the point, and kisses the hilt.

Your ladys.h.i.+p smiles, and thus you begin: 'Pray, captain, be pleased to alight and walk in.'

The captain salutes you with congee profound, And your ladys.h.i.+p curtseys half way to the ground.

'Kit, run to your master, and bid him come to us; I'm sure he'll be proud of the honour you do us; And, captain, you'll do us the favour to stay, And take a short dinner here with us to-day: You're heartily welcome; but as for good cheer, You come in the very worst time of the year; If I had expected so worthy a guest--'

'Lord, madam! your ladys.h.i.+p sure is in jest; You banter me, madam; the kingdom must grant--'

'You officers, captain, are so complaisant!'”-- ”Hist, hussey, I think I hear somebody coming ”-- ”No madam: 'tis only Sir Arthur a-humming.

To shorten my tale, (for I hate a long story,) The captain at dinner appears in his glory; The dean and the doctor[8] have humbled their pride, For the captain's entreated to sit by your side; And, because he's their betters, you carve for him first; The parsons for envy are ready to burst.

The servants, amazed, are scarce ever able To keep off their eyes, as they wait at the table; And Molly and I have thrust in our nose, To peep at the captain in all his fine _clo'es._ Dear madam, be sure he's a fine spoken man, Do but hear on the clergy how glib his tongue ran; And, 'madam,' says he, 'if such dinners you give, You'll ne'er want for parsons as long as you live.

I ne'er knew a parson without a good nose; But the devil's as welcome, wherever he goes: G--d d--n me! they bid us reform and repent, But, z--s! by their looks, they never keep Lent: Mister curate, for all your grave looks, I'm afraid You cast a sheep's eye on her ladys.h.i.+p's maid: I wish she would lend you her pretty white hand In mending your ca.s.sock, and smoothing your band: (For the Dean was so shabby, and look'd like a ninny, That the captain supposed he was curate to Jinny.) 'Whenever you see a ca.s.sock and gown, A hundred to one but it covers a clown.

Observe how a parson comes into a room; G--d d--n me, he hobbles as bad as my groom; A _scholard_, when just from his college broke loose, Can hardly tell how to cry bo to a goose; Your Noveds, and Bluturks, and Omurs,[9] and stuff By G--, they don't signify this pinch of snuff.

To give a young gentleman right education, The army's the only good school in the nation: My schoolmaster call'd me a dunce and a fool, But at cuffs I was always the c.o.c.k of the school; I never could take to my book for the blood o' me, And the puppy confess'd he expected no good o' me.

He caught me one morning coquetting his wife, But he maul'd me, I ne'er was so maul'd in my life: [10]

So I took to the road, and, what's very odd, The first man I robb'd was a parson, by G--.

Now, madam, you'll think it a strange thing to say, But the sight of a book makes me sick to this day.

”Never since I was born did I hear so much wit, And, madam, I laugh'd till I thought I should split.

So then you look'd scornful, and snift at the Dean, As who should say, 'Now, am I skinny[11] and lean?'

But he durst not so much as once open his lips, And the doctor was plaguily down in the hips.”

Thus merciless Hannah ran on in her talk, Till she heard the Dean call, ”Will your ladys.h.i.+p walk?”

Her ladys.h.i.+p answers, ”I'm just coming down:”

Then, turning to Hannah, and forcing a frown, Although it was plain in her heart she was glad, Cried, ”Hussey, why sure the wench is gone mad!

How could these chimeras get into your brains!-- Come hither and take this old gown for your pains.

But the Dean, if this secret should come to his ears, Will never have done with his gibes and his jeers: For your life, not a word of the matter I charge ye: Give me but a barrack, a fig for the clergy.”

[Footnote 1: A bawn was a place near the house, enclosed with mud or stone walls, to keep the cattle from being stolen in the night, now little used.--_Dublin Edition_.]

[Footnote 2: Sir Arthur Acheson, at whose seat this was written.]

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