'Great praise the Duke of Marlbro' won,
And our good Prince Eugene;'
'Why 'twas a very wicked thing!'
Said little Wilhelmine;

'Nay, nay, my little girl,' quoth he,
'It was a famous victory.

'And every body praised the Duke
Who this great fight did win.'
'But what good came of it at last?'
Quoth little Peterkin.

'Why that I cannot tell,' said he,

'But 'twas a famous victory.'

R. Southey

XCIV

THE SAILOR'S MOTHER

One morning (raw it was and wet

A foggy day in winter time)

A woman on the road I met,

Not old, though something past her prime : Majestic in her person, tall and straight ; And like a Roman matron's was her mien and gait.

The ancient spirit is not dead;

Old times, thought I, are breathing there;
Proud was I that my country bred

Such strength, a dignity so fair:

She begged an alms like one in poor estate; I looked at her again nor did my pride abate.

When from these lofty thoughts I woke,
'What is it?' said I, 'that you bear
Beneath the covert of your cloak,
Protected from this cold damp air?'

She answered, soon as she the question heard, 'A simple burthen, Sir, a little singing bird.'

And, thus continuing, she said,
'I had a son, who many a day
Sail'd on the seas, but he is dead;
In Denmark he was cast away:

And I have travelled weary miles to see If aught that he had owned might still remain for me.

The bird and cage they both were his :
'Twas my son's bird; and neat and trim
He kept it: many voyages

The singing bird had gone with him;

When last he sailed, he left the bird behind; From bodings, as might be, that hung upon his

mind.'

W. Wordsworth

XCV

MAHMOUD

There came a man, making his hasty moan
Before the Sultan Mahmoud on his throne,
And crying out-'My sorrow is my right,
And I will see the Sultan, and to-night.'

'Sorrow,' said Mahmoud, ‘is a reverend thing:
I recognise its right as king with king;

Speak on.' 'A fiend has got into my house,'
Exclaim'd the staring man, 'and tortures us :
One of thine officers; he comes, the abhorr'd,
And takes possession of my house, my board,
My bed :—I have two daughters and a wife,

And the wild villain comes and makes me mad with life.'

'Is he there now?' said Mahmoud. 'No, he left
The house when I did, of my wits bereft ;
And laugh'd me down the street because I vow'd
I'd bring the prince himself to lay him in his shroud.
I'm mad with want, I'm mad with misery,

And Oh, thou Sultan Mahmoud, God cries out for thee!'

The Sultan comforted the man and said,

'Go home, and I will send thee wine and bread, (For he was poor,) and other comforts. Go;

And should the wretch return let Sultan Mahmoud know.'

In two days' time, with haggard eyes and beard,
And shaken voice, the suitor re-appeared,
And said, 'He's come.'-Mahmoud said not a word,
But rose and took four slaves each with a sword,
And went with the vext man. They reach the place,
And hear a voice and see a female face,
That to the window flutter'd in affright.

'Go in,' said Mahmoud, ‘and put out the light;
But tell the females first to leave the room;
And when the drunkard follows them, we come.

The man went in. There was a cry, and hark!
A table falls, the window is struck dark;

Forth rush the breathless women, and behind
With curses comes the fiend in desperate mind.
In vain the sabres soon cut short the strife,
And chop the shrieking wretch, and drink his bloody
life.

'Now light the light,' the Sultan cried aloud.
'Twas done; he took it in his hand and bow'd
Over the corpse, and look'd upon the face;
Then turn'd and knelt beside it in the place,
And said a prayer, and from his lips there crept
Some gentle words of pleasure, and he wept.

In reverent silence the spectators wait,

Then bring him at his call both wine and meat;
And when he had refresh'd his noble heart,
He bade his host be blest, and rose up to depart.

The man amaz'd, all mildness now and tears,
Fell at the Sultan's feet with many prayers,
And begg'd him to vouchsafe to tell his slave,
The reason first of that command he gave
About the light: then when he saw the face,
Why he knelt down; and lastly how it was
That fare so poor as his detain'd him in the place.

The Sultan said, with much humanity,

'Since first I heard thee come, and heard thy cry, I could not rid me of a dread that one

By whom such daring villanies were done,

Must be some lord of mine, perhaps a lawless

Whoe'er he was, I knew my task, but fear'd
A father's heart, in case the worst appear’d.
For this I had the light put out. But when
I saw the face and found a stranger slain,
I knelt and thank'd the sovereign arbiter,
Whose work I had perform'd through pain and fear.
And then I rose and was refresh'd with food,

The first time since thou cam'st and marr'd'st my solitude.'

L. Hunt

XCVI
AUTUMN

A Dirge

The warm sun is failing, the bleak wind is wailing, The bare boughs are sighing, the pale flowers are

dying;

And the year

On the earth her death-bed, in a shroud of leaves dead

Is lying.

Come, Months, come away,
From November to May,

In your saddest array,—
Follow the bier

Of the dead cold year,

And like dim shadows watch by her sepulchre.

The chill rain is falling, the nipt worm is crawling, The rivers are swelling, the thunder is knelling

For the year;

The blithe swallows are flown, and the lizards each

gone