Lifting its head, no less Our winsome collie wraith, The door will open wide, Ah, Keeper of the Portal, What prayer is mine? Katharine Lee Bates [1859 "HOLD" I KNOW, where Hampshire fronts the Wight, I know their features' graven lines Their little dog of stone! I look where Blanquely Castle still Frowns o'er the oak wood's summer state, (The maker of a patent pill Has purchased it of late), And then through Fancy's open door I backward turn to days of old, And see Sir Guy-a bachelor I see him take the tourney's chance, "Hold" To an arbitrament by lance I mark the onset, see him hurl From broidered saddle to the dirt Then Alison, with down-dropped eyes, And adds her hand thereto; My lord, his surcoat streaked with sand, 1833 'Tis night-Sir Guy has sunk to sleep, Lord Massingbert of odious fame, Soft followed by his cut-throat staff; Ah, "Hold" has justified his name And pinned his lordship's calf! A growl, an oath, then torches flare; Half-dressed, Sir Guy runs out; The Knight is dead-his sword is rust, Wore, as his master's badge of trust, And still I like to fancy that, Somewhere beyond the Styx's bound, Sir Guy's tall phantom stoops to pat His little phantom hound! Patrick R. Chalmers [18 THE BARB OF SATIRE THE VICAR OF BRAY IN good King Charles's golden days, To teach my flock I never missed: Still I'll be the Vicar of Bray, sir. When royal James possessed the crown, And popery grew in fashion, The penal laws I hooted down, And read the Declaration; The Church of Rome I found would fit Full well my constitution; And I had been a Jesuit But for the Revolution. When William was our king declared, Old principles I did revoke, Set conscience at a distance; Passive obedience was a joke, A jest was non-resistance. When royal Anne became our queen, I blamed their moderation, When George in pudding-time came o'er, The illustrious house of Hanover, I nevermore will falter, And George my lawful king shall be Until the times do alter. And this is law that I'll maintain Until my dying day, sir, That whatsoever king shall reign, Still I'll be the Vicar of Bray, sir. Unknown THE LOST LEADER [WILLIAM WORdsworth] JUST for a handful of silver he left us, |