Brief, the Duchess was gone and the Duke was glad of it, Of the paint-smutches with which the Duchess Heightened the mellowness of her cheek's yellowness (To get on faster) until at last her Cheek grew to be one master-plaster Of mucus and fucus from mere use of ceruse : Just the object to make you shudder. You're my friend XVII. What a thing friendship is, world without end! As if somebody broached you a glorious runlet, Friendship may match with that monarch of fluids; Gives your life's hour-glass a shake when the thin sand doubts Whether to run on or stop short, and guarantees Age is not all made of stark sloth and arrant ease. I have seen my little lady once more, Jacynth, the gypsy, Berold, and the rest of it, For to me spoke the Duke, as I told you before; I always wanted to make a clean breast of it: And now it is made-why, my heart's blood, that went trickle, Trickle, but anon, in such muddy driblets, Is pumped up brisk now, through the main ventricle, I'll tell you what I intend to do: I must see this fellow his sad life through- And I, as he says, but a serf and thrall. For, as to our middle-age-manners-adapter, And breast in a hauberk, his heels he'll kick up, And then, when red doth the sword of our Duke rust, crust, Then I shall scrape together my earnings; With which his boars my father pinned you? I shall go journeying, who but I, pleasantly! a blue What's a man's age? He must hurry more, that's all; (Come all the way from the north-parts with sperm oil), I hope to get safely out of the turmoil And arrive one day at the land of the gypsies, His forehead chapleted green with wreathy hop, And when my Cotnar begins to operate And the tongue of the rogue to run at a proper rate, And our wine-skin, tight once, shows each flaccid dent, I shall drop in with-as if by accident- 66 You never knew, then, how it all ended, What fortune good or bad attended The little lady your Queen befriended? -And when that's told me, what's remaining? The same wise judge of matters equine And, for strong Cotnar, drank French weak wine, "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 Neck by neck, stride by stride, never changing our place; I turned in my saddle and made its girths tight, Then shortened each stirrup, and set the pique right, III. 'Twas moonset at starting; but, while we drew near And from Mecheln church-steeple we heard the half-chime, 66 IV. At Aershot, up leaped of a sudden the sun, V. And his low head and crest, just one sharp ear bent back VI. By Hasselt, Dirck groaned; and cried Joris, “Stay spur! 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 IX. Then I cast loose my buffcoat, each holster let fall, Called my Roland his pet-name, my horse without peer; X. And all I remember is, friends flocking round As I sat with his head 'twixt my knees on the ground; As I poured down his throat our last measure of wine, Was no more than his due who brought good news from Ghent. HEAP cassia, sandal-buds, and stripes Smeared with dull nard an Indian wipes II. And strew faint sweetness from some old THROUGH THE METIDJA TO ABD-EL-KADR. [1842.] I. As I ride, as I ride, With a full heart for my guide, So its tide rocks my side, As I ride, as I ride, |