But she and her son agreed, I take it, That no one should touch on the story to wake it, But told them they 're folks the Duke do n't want here, 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 : In short, she grew from scalp to udder Just the object to make you shudder. XVII You 're my friend What a thing friendship is, world without end! Friendship may match with that monarch of fluids; 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 Gipsy, 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. But there's no mine to blow up and get done with : Some day or other, his head in a morion And breast in a hauberk, his heels he 'll kick up, Slain by an onslaught fierce of hiccup. And then, when red doth the sword of our Duke rust, And its leathern sheath lie o'ergrown with a blue crust, Then I shall scrape together my earnings; For, you see, in the churchyard Jacynth reposes, One needs but little tackle to travel in ; So, just one stout cloak shall I indue : I shall go journeying, who but I, pleasantly! What's a man's age? He must hurry more, that's all; And arrive one day at the land of the Gipsies, 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 "You never knew then, how it all ended, "What fortune good or bad attended The same wise judge of matters equine Smooth Jacob still robs homely Esau: Now up, now down, the world 's one see-saw. Under a hedge, like Orson the wood-knight, Turn myself round and bid the world good night; SONG FROM "PIPPA PASSES." THE year's at the spring, The hill-side's dew-pearled; "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; II. Not a word to each other; we kept the great pace place; I turned in my saddle and made its girths tight, Then shortened each stirrup, and set the pique right, |