Meantime the hail had ceased: and all the brood Of glaziers stole abroad to count their gains ;- No house was whole that had a southern front,— No greenhouse but the same mishap befell; — Bow-windows and bell-glasses bore the brunt,No sex in glass was spared! For those who dwell On each hill-side, you might have swam a punt But still the sea was mild, and quite disclaimed There was a gale-"quite equal to bespoke." Before high water (it were better far To christen it not water then but waiter, For then the tide is serving at the bar) Rose such a swell — I never saw one greater! Black, jagged billows rearing up in war Like ragged roaring bears against the baiter, With lots of froth upon the shingle shed, Like stout poured out with a fine beachy head. No open boat was open to a fare, Or launched that morn on seven-shilling trips, No bathing woman waded none would dare A dipping in the wave – but waived their dips, No seagull ventured on the stormy air, And all the dreary coast was clear of ships; Awe-struck we sat, and gazed upon the scene Sometimes a hand sometimes a little shoe Sometimes a skirt― sometimes a hank of hair Just like a dabbled seaweed rose to view, Right on the shingles. Any one could swear The lad was dead without a chance of perjury, And battered by the surge beyond all surgery! However we snatched up the corse thus thrown, And lo! the features of the Small Unknown! A bond of blood, whereby the sinner gave He might control the course of cards, and brave The juggling Demon, in his usual vein, Seized the last cast. main ! and Nicked him in the LINES TO A LADY ON HER DEPARTURE FOR INDIA. Go where the waves run rather Holborn-hilly, And tempests make a soda-water sea, Almost as rough as our rough Piccadilly, And think of me! Go where the mild Madeira ripens her juice,A wine more praised than it deserves to be! Go pass the Cape, just capable of ver-juice, And think of me! Go where the Tiger in the darkness prowleth, Go where the serpent dangerously coileth, Go where the Suttee in her own soot broileth, Go where with human notes the Parrot dealeth And think of me! Go to the land of muslin and nankeening, Go to the land of Jungles and of vast hills, may none bamboozle thee! Go where a cook must always be a currier, Go where the maiden on a marriage plan goes, Go where the sun is very hot and fervent, Where every black will be your slave and servant, And think of me! |