COLONEL RICHARD LOVELACE. (Born about 1618. Educated at Oxford. Imprisoned by the Long Parliament. Afterwards served in the French army. The latter part of his life was very miserable. He died in an alley near Shoe Lane, in 1658.)

TO ALTHEA.

WHEN Love, with unconfinèd wings, Hovers within my gates,

And my divine Althea brings

To whisper at the grates;
When I lie tangled in her hair,
And fettered to her eye,

The birds that wanton in the air
Know no such liberty.

When flowing cups run swiftly round
With no allaying Thames,

Our careless heads with roses crowned,
Our hearts with loyal flames;
When thirsty grief in wine we steep,

When healths and draughts go free-
Fishes that tipple in the deep
Know no such liberty.

When, linnet-like, confinèd, I
With shriller throat shall sing
The sweetness, mercy, majesty
And glories of my King;
When I shall voice aloud how good
He is, how great should be,
Enlarged winds, that curl the flood,
Know no such liberty.

Stone walls do not a prison make,"
Nor iron bars a cage;

Minds innocent and quiet take
That for an hermitage:
If I have freedom in my love

And in my soul am free,
Angels alone, that soar above,
Enjoy such liberty.

R. LOVELACE,

He was formerly associated with George Cruikshank in several literary ventures. The amusing parody on Lord Tennyson's Revenge entitled "Retribution," on page 42, Volume 1. Parodies, was also from his pen.

A FRUGAL MIND.

CHAMPAGNE will not a dinner make,
Nor Caviare a meal :

Men gluttonous and rich, may take
Those till they make them ill.
If I've potatoes to my chop,

And after chop have cheese,
Angels in Pond and Spiers's shop
Know no such luxuries!

Punch. April 3, 1875.

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TO LUCASTA,

ON GOING TO THE WARS. TELL me not, sweet, I am unkind, That from the nunnery

Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind To war and arms I fly.

True, a new mistress now I chase,The first foe in the field;

And with a stronger love embrace

A sword, a horse, a shield. Yet this inconstancy is such

As you, too, shall adore:

I could not love thee, dear, so much, Loved I not honour more.

R. LOVELACE.

THE GRAND OLD O'DIDDLE TO MISS ERIN.

TELL me not, sweet, it is a dodge

Because so swift I hie,

From making love to Molly Hodge
And wink at thee an eye!

True, a new charmer now I chase
Across wild Faction's field,

Prepared, with shame-forgetting face,
Whate'er thou wilt, to yield.

Yet this apostacy is such

As thou, too, shalt adore:

I should not love thee, dear, so much,
Loved I not office more.

Moonshine. January 2, 1886.

HANG SORROW, LET'S CAST AWAY CARE.

THE REV. Mr. J. W. Ebsworth, a great authority on our early songs and ballads, supplies the following information as to the different existing versions of "Hang sorrow." The music of this old ballad was composed by William Lawes, and “published by John Hilton: printed for John Benson and John Playford, and to be sould in St. Dun. stan's Churchyard, and in the Inner Temple neare the Church doore, 1652." It reappeared in Windsor Drollery,' 1672, with a few verbal alterations.

From J. Hilton's 'Catch that Catch Can,' 1652 (music by William Lawes) :—

HANG Sorrow and cast away Care,

and let us drink up our Sack;

They say 'tis good to cherish the blood,

and for to strengthen the back,

'Tis wine that makes the thoughts aspire,

and fills the body with heat;

Besides 'tis good, if well understood,

to fit a man for the feat:

Then call and drink up all,

The Drawer is ready to fill,

A Pox of care, what need we to spare?

my father has made his will.

Another version appeared in an excessively rare work, "The New Academy of Complements," 1671, as, Song 276

Hang fear, cast away care,

The parish is bound to find us,

Thou and I and all must die,

And leave this world behinde us.

The Bells shall ring, the Clerk shall sing,
And the good old wife shall winde us,
And John shall lay our bones in clay

Where the Devil ne'er shall find us.

A later version is in Playford's Musical Companion,' 1673. There is also a Roxburghe ballad beginning similarly, but quite distinct from these two songs. It is entitled, "Joy and Sorrow mixt together. To the tune of, Such a Rogue should be hang'd." Which is the same tune as 'Old Sir Simon the King.' Here is the first of the fourteen stanzas for comparison. The ballad is preserved in the Roxburghe Collection (vol. 1. fol. 170), and has been reprinted in the Ballad Society's publication, vol. 1. P. 509 :

Hang sorrow, let's cast away care,

for now I do mean to be merry,
Wee'l drink some good Ale and strong Beere,
With sugar, and clarret, and sherry.
Now I'le have a wife of mine own,

I shall have no need to borrow;

I would have it for to be known
that I shall be married to-morrow.

(Burden :) Here's a health to my Bride that shall be,
Come pledge it you boon merry blades:
The day I much long for to see,

We will be as merry as the Maides, &c. This ballad was written and signed by Richard Climsell, and was printed for John Wright the younger, dwelling in the Old Bayley.

DRINKING SONG.

Then let us swill, boys, for our health ; ·
Who drinks well, loves the Commonwealth.
And he that will to bed go sober
Falls with the leaf, still in October,*

Five reasons for Drinking.

There are five reasons, as I think,
Why man, being reasonable, should drink.
A friend a bottle-being dry.

Or, that one may be, by and bye,
Or any other reason why.

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THREE BAND OF HOPE BOYS.

(Anti-Bacchanalian Song, dedicated to the Temperance
Society, as an Aid to Moral Suasion.)
AIR.-"Three Jolly Postboys."

THREE Band of Hope Boys, drinking, on their mettle,
Three Band of Hope Boys, drinking, on their mettle,
And they determined,
And they determined,

And they determined again to tap the kettle.
We'll have t'other cup; pour on the water.
We'll have t'other cup; pour on the water.
Fill us the teapot up,

Fill us the teapot up,

Boys for you!

With a fal-lal, lal-lal, la, la, la-
With a fal-lal, lal-lal, la, la, la-
With a fal-lal-lal, fal-lal-lal-
The Rads are the boys for you!

To Jingoes, of whatever ilk,
Who'd bid you with them march,

The following well-known glee is formed on this song:-
"He who goes to bed, and goes to bed sober,
Falls as the leaves do, and dies in October;
But he who goes to bed, and goes to bed mellow,
Lives as he ought to do, and dies an honest fellow."

THE CHIEF OF THE LIBERAL PARTY.
AIR-The King of the Cannibal Islands.
Now, all ye hungry Whigs, who wait
For pickings from your Premier's plate,
Attend, while I predict the fate

Of the Chief of the Liberal Party.
No more he plays the daring game
That made all Europe fear his name;
The Temple now enshrines a Fame
Whose trumpet-notes are rather tame.
And he's only saucy, "jaunty Pam "—
His boasted power's an empty sham-
And his colleagues groan when he says, "I am
The Chief of the Liberal Party."

Joking-poking feeble fun—

That is the way his work is done
By the Premier Palmerston-

The Chief of the Liberal Party."
Pam's oft the victim of his men-
For Gladstone's tongue, or Russell's pen
Brings into trouble, now and then,

The Chief of the Liberal Party.
Now Gladstone's fancy decks finance
With all the charms of fair romance,
And shows an Income-tax advance.

Or cheapened rates on goods from France,
To be, in fact the nation's gain-
While poor John Bull protests in vain,
And of his taxes doth complain

To the Chief of the Liberal Party.
Taxing, waxing, more and more,
We pay in peace the price of war-
Thanks to our brilliant Chancellor,
That not too "liberal" party.
Then Russell will despatches write,
And bark at States he dares not bite :
His every movement causes fright

To the Chief of the Liberal Party.
"Non-intervention" is his plan.
And yet he'll meddle where he can ;
But nobody minds the little man,
Except perhaps poor, weak Japan,
And he'll bully Prussia about the Danes,
And get a snubbing for his pains-
Till not a rag of respect remains

To the Chief of the Liberal Party!
Meddling, peddling everywhere—
Intervene and interfere

Oh what a Foreign Minister

Has the Chief of the Liberal Party!

But now the Whigs are in retreat-
At every poll they lose a seat-
So bid "good-bye" to Downing Street,
Oh, Chief of the Liberal Party!
The bench you fill, you soon shall face,-
Like your own jokes, be out of place!
And a better man your post shall grace-
The country's fav'rite in the race ;-
So clear the course for the DERBY-day !
Tories gather in strong array!
And Whigs prepare to clear the way

For the great CONSERVATIVE Party!
Gladstone, Russell, Grey & Co.,
Nobody mourns your overthrow--
Your time is come-so out you go
With the Chief of the Liberal Party!
E. J. GOODMAN, 1864.
These verses were first sung at a dinner of the Edin-

SIGN THE BILL STAMP, SIGN.
(A Lay of the Downy One.)
AIR." Dance, the Boatman, Dance."
I LEAD a very merry and a rollicking life,
Each passing day with fun is rife,

I've hunters, I've a yacht. I've an Opera box,
And this is how I steer clear of rocks.

Sign the Bill Stamp, sign,

Sign the Bill Stamp, sign.

You may dance all night, 'neath the gay gas light,
If you only do a bill in the morning.
Heigho! I'm the regular doo,

Floating down Life's river on an I. O. U.

I'm Director of ten railways, and a tip-top swell, My villa's at Richmond, my Club in Pall Mall.

I laugh at petty larcenies, and never cut my stick, For this is the way we do the trick.

Sign the Bill Stamp, sign,

Sign the Bill Stamp, sign.

You may revel all night, and yet feel all right,
If you only do a bill in the morning.

Then heigho! for the regular doo,

Floating down Life's river on an İ.O.U.

The Man in the Moon. Vol. I.

With your gun upon your shoulder, and your bayonet by your side,

You'll be courting some fair lady, and making her your bride."

THE LAY OF THE CREDITOR.

You are going far away, far away from all your Debts,
There's no one left to pay me now, for you have no assets,
My bill it will be with you, wherever you may go ;
Can you look into my ledger, and deny me what you owe?
When you wear the light moustache, and the vest of
brilliant blue,

I fear that you'll forget then all about my I, O. U.
With the reins between your fingers, and a danseuse by your
side,

You'll spend your uncle's legacy, and all your duns deride. Oh, were I Lord John Russell, or still better Robert Peel, I would pass a stringent measure that would make you debtors feel;

I would put a stop to swindling, or at least would find a

way

That the man who had the goods should be the only one to pay.

The Puppet Show, April 1, 1848.

In the same paper there was another parody relating to the Company of French actors, whose appearance at Drury Lane Theatre led to some disgraceful disturbances on the part of the "gents" of the period.

A MONTE CHRISTO BALLAD.

You are going to the play, if an order you can get,
And Monte Christo you're to see; so mind you don't forget
To take two days' provisions, and remember ere you go,
That I want some cash to "keep the house "till you
come back, dear Joe.

When you're sitting in the pit, and when "part the first " is o'er,

You'll be voting Monsieur Dumas a most terrific bore; With your head upon your hand, and your hand upon your knee,

You will long to be at home again at Kensington with me. When the playhouse doors are opened, you'll be madly rushing on,

Never thinking if they squash you, that your only chance is gone;

For your hard eggs will be broken, and your brandy bottle cracked,

And you'll faint from thirst and hunger in the pit so densely packed.

Oh! if I were Lord Chamberlain, or, better still, the

A pound of pounded sugar, and a pound of peel beside; Stir them all well up together with a pound of wheaten flour,

And let them stand and settle for a quarter of an hour; Then tie the pudding in a cloth, and put it in the pot, Some people like the water cold, and some prefer it hot; But though I don't know which of these two methods I should praise,

I know it ought to boil an hour for every pound it weighs.
Oh! if I were Queen of France, or, still better, Pope of
Rome,

I'd have a Christmas pudding every day I dined at home;
And as for other puddings whatever they might be,
Why, those who like the nasty things should eat them all
for me.

Punch.

Six little barmaids, eager all to strive;

One fell to quarrelling, and then there were five.
Five little barmaids, counting up their store;
One show'd her dirty hands, and then there were four.
Four little barmaids evidenced their glee-

One not "respectably "—and then there were three.
Three little barmaids said it was "a do ;"
One said it loudly-and then there were two.
Two little barmaids wish'd it all was done;
One yawn'd too plainly, and then there was one.
One little barmaid thought it "famous fun;"
She took the prizes--and then there were none.
Judy.

PARODIES OF "TEN LITTLE

NIGGER BOYS."

There was a parody of this song in "The Rise and Fall of Richard III.," a burlesque by F. C. Burnand, produced at the New Royalty Theatre, Soho, in 1868. It possesses little interest apart from the context.

Song by BARON ALBERT GRANT.

TEN Joint Stock Companies, none of which were mine,
One got into Chancery, and then there were Nine !
Nine Joint Stock Companies, all with prospects great,
One never paid at all, then there were Eight!
Eight Joint Stock Companies, one a mine in Devon,
The sea got into that, and then there were Seven !
Seven Joint Stock Companies, all their Boards played
tricks;

One couldn't pay its rent, and then there were Six !
Six Joint Stock Companies, scarcely kept alive,
One wound up amicably, and then there were Five!
Five Joint Stock Companies, dividends long o'er,
A liquidator bled one, and then there were Four!
Four Joint Stock Companies, as rotten as could be,
One ruined scores of folk, and then there were Three!
Three Joint Stock Companies, having naught to do,
A small panic killed one, and then there were Two!
Two Joint Stock Companies, their course well-nigh run,
One was tried as a fraud, and then there was One !
One Joint Stock Company, just kept on for fun,
The Chairman bolted with the books, and then there was
None!

From Finis.

THE "BARMAID CONTEST."

Held in the North Woolwich Gardens, when under the management of Mr. William Holland.

"Good character, business habits, neatness of costume, and respectability, are the chief points."-Advertisement.

TEN little barmaids, sitting in a line;
One answer'd saucily, and then there were nine.
Nine little barmaids, trying to be great;

One look'd too pompously, and then there were eight.
Eight little barmaids-one came from Devon-
Not quite genteel enough-and then there were seven-
Seven little barmaids-one was up to tricks,

Glancing at the gentlemen-and then there were six.

THE SIX ROYAL PERSONS,

Six royal persons in the realm alive,

One went to India, and then there were five.
Five royal persons, finding town a bore,

One went to Russia, and then there were four.
Four royal persons-pleasant sight to see-

One went to Gibraltar, and then there were three.
Three royal persons-nothing else to do-

One went to Nice for health, and then there were two.
Two royal persons, who together run,

Thus the second doesn't count, and so there was one.
One royal person-Session not yet done!-
She went to Germany, and then there were none !
Reynolds' Newspaper. April 16, 1876.

THE TEN HIGH COMMISSIONERS.
(A Song of the Conference,)

TEN High Commissioners in council did combine;
But Salisbury gave up at last, and then there were but
nine.

Nine High Commissioners no longer would debate ;
For next Ignatieff went off, and so there were but eight.
Eight High Commissioners tried Turkish rule to leaven.
Count Corti he went back to Rome, and then there were
but seven.

Seven High Commissioners were just in the same fix,
Till Count Calice started off-reducing them to six.
Six High Commissioners would fain see Turkey thrive,
But Werther back to Bismarck went, and then there were
but five.

Five High Commissioners found they could do no more, And so Count Zichy he went home, and left there only four.

Four High Commissioners still failed their way to see; And even Elliott gave in-and so there were but three. Three High Commissioners, of course, could nothing do; And Chaudordy packed off to France, and left there only

two.

Two High Commissioners found talking sorry fun;
So Bourgoing he quitted too; and then there was but one.
A Turk was he, who winked his eye, as one who is elate;
And, chuckling much, "Aha," he said; "Bismillah!
God is great!"

Judy, February 7, 1877.

THE IRISH JURYMEN.

TWELVE Irish Jurymen trying Prisoners seven,

One had a frightened wife, and then there were eleven! Eleven Irish Jurymen consulting up in a pen,