DRAMATIC LYRICS In a late edition were collected and redistributed the pieces first published in 1842, 1845, and 1855, respectively, under the titles of "Dramatic Lyrics," "Dramatic Romances," and "Men and Women.' It is not worth while to disturb this arrangement. Such Poems as the majority in this volume might also come properly enough, I suppose, under the head of "Dramatic Pieces; being, though often Lyric in expression, always Dramatic in principle, and so many utterances of so many imaginary persons, not mine. Part of the Poems were inscribed to my dear friend John Kenyon; I hope the whole may obtain the honor of an association with his memory. CAVALIER TUNES. I. MARCHING ALONG. I. Kentish Sir Byng stood for his King, II. R. B. God for King Charles! Pym and such carles Hands from the pasty, nor bite take nor sup CHORUS. Marching along, fifty-score strong, III. Hampden to hell, and his obsequies' knell. Serve Hazelrig, Fiennes, and young Harry as well! Kentish and loyalists, keep we not here, Great-hearted gentlemen, singing this song? IV. Then, God for King Charles! Pym and his snarls March we along, fifty-score strong, II. GIVE A ROUSE. I. King Charles, and who'll do him right now? II. Who gave me the goods that went since ? King Charles, and who'll do him right now? 0 III. To whom used my boy George quaff else, While Noll's damned troopers shot him? CHORUS. — King Charles, and who'll do him right now? King Charles, and who's ripe for fight now? Give a rouse here 's, in hell's despite now, King Charles! III. BOOT AND SADDLE. I. Boot, saddle, to horse, and away! Brightens to blue from its silvery gray. II. Ride past the suburbs, asleep as you'd say ; III. Forty miles off, like a roebuck at bay, Flouts Castle Brancepeth the Roundheads' array: IV. Who? My wife Gertrude; that, honest and gay, CHORUS. Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!" THE LOST LEADER. I. Just for a handful of silver he left us, How all our copper had gone for his service! Rags were they purple, his heart had been proud! Learned his great language, caught his clear accents, Shakespeare was of us, Milton was for us, Burns, Shelley, were with us, they watch from their graves! He alone breaks from the van and the freemen, He alone sinks to the rear and the slaves! We shall march prospering, II. not through his presence; Songs may inspirit us, not from his lyre; Deeds will be done, while he boasts his quiescence, Still bidding crouch whom the rest bade aspire: One wrong more to man, one more insult to God! Best fight on well, for we taught him-strike gallantly, "HOW THEY BROUGHT THE GOOD NEWS FROM GHENT TO AIX." [16-.] I. I sprang to the stirrup, and Joris, and he; I galloped, Dirck galloped, we galloped all three ; "Good speed!" cried the watch, as the gate-bolts undrew; "Speed!" echoed the wall to us galloping through; Behind shut the postern, the lights sank to rest, And into the midnight we galloped abreast. II. Not a word to each other; we kept the great pace III. 'T was moonset at starting; but while we drew near IV. At Aershot, up leaped of a sudden the sun, V. And his low head and crest, just one sharp ear bent back ever that glance O'er its white edge at me, his own master, askance ! VI. By Hasselt, Dirck groaned; and cried Joris, "Stay spur! Your Roos galloped bravely, the fault 's not in her, We'll remember at Aix" - for one heard the quick wheeze Of her chest, saw the stretched neck and staggering knees, And sunk tail, and horrible heave of the flank, As down on her haunches she shuddered and sank. VII. So, we were left galloping, Joris and I, Past Looz and past Tongres, no cloud in the sky; The broad sun above laughed a pitiless laugh, 'Neath our feet broke the brittle bright stubble like chaff; Till over by Dalhem a dome-spire sprang white, And "Gallop," gasped Joris, "for Aix is in sight!" VIII. "How they 'll greet us!" and all in a moment his roan 1x. Then I cast loose my buffcoat, each holster let fall, |