DRAMATIC LYRICS.

CAVALIER TUNES.*

I. MARCHING ALONG.

I.

KENTISH Sir Byng stood for his King,
Bidding the crop-headed Parliament swing:
And, pressing a troop unable to stoop

And see the rogues

flourish and honest folk droop, Marched them along, fifty score strong, Great-hearted gentlemen, singing this song.

II.

God for King Charles! Pym and such carles
To the Devil that prompts 'em their treasonous parles!

* 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.-R. B.

Cavaliers, up! Lips from the cup,

Hands from the pasty, nor bite take nor sup

Till you 're

(Chorus) Marching along, fifty-score strong,
Great-hearted gentlemen, singing this song.

III.

Hampden to hell, and his obsequies' knell.

Serve Hazelrig, Fiennes, and young Harry as well!
England, good cheer! Rupert is near !
Kentish and loyalists, keep we not here

(Chorus) Marching along, fifty-score strong,
Great-hearted gentlemen, singing this song!

IV.

Then, God for King Charles! Pym and his snarls
To the Devil that pricks on such pestilent carles !
Hold by the right, you double your might;
So, onward to Nottingham, fresh for the fight,

(Chorus) March we along, fifty-score strong,
Great-hearted gentlemen, singing this song!

II. GIVE A ROUSE.

I.

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!

II.

Who gave me the goods that went since?
Who raised me the house that sank once?
Who helped me to gold I spent since?
Who found me in wine you drank once?

(Chorus) King Charles, and who 'll do him right nou?
King Charles, and who's ripe for fight now!
Give a rouse: here's, in hell's despite now,
King Charles!

III.

To whom used my boy George quaff else,
By the old fool's side that begot him?
For whom did he cheer and laugh 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!
Rescue my castle before the hot day
Brightens to blue from its silvery grey,

(Chorus) Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!

II.

Ride past the suburbs, asleep as you'd say;
Many 's the friend there, will listen and pray
"God's luck to gallants that strike up the lay-

(Chorus) "Boot, saddle, to horse, and away f

III.

Forty miles off, like a roebuck at bay,

Flouts Castle Brancepeth the Roundheads' array:
Who laughs, "Good fellows ere this, by my fay,

(Chorus) "Boot, saddle, to horse, and away?”

IV.

Who? My wife Gertrude; that, honest and gay,
Laughs when you talk of surrendering, "Nay!
"I've better counsellors; what counsel they?

(Chorus) "Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!”

THE LOST LEADER.

I.

JUST for a handful of silver he left us,
Just for a riband to stick in his coat-
Found the one gift of which fortune bereft us,
Lost all the others, she lets us devote;
They, with the gold to give, doled him out silver,
So much was theirs who so little allowed:

How all our copper had gone for his service!

Rags were they purple, his heart had been proud! We that had loved him so, followed him, honoured him, Lived in his mild and magnificent eye,

Learned his great language, caught his clear accents,
Made him our pattern to live and to die!

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!"

II.

We shall march prospering,—not thro' 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:
Blot out his name, then, record one lost soul more,
One task more declined, one more footpath untrod,
One more devils'-triumph and sorrow for angels,

One wrong more to man, one more insult to God!
Life's night begins: let him never come back to us!
There would be doubt, hesitation and pain,
Forced praise on our part-the glimmer of twilight,

Never glad confident morning again!

Best fight on well, for we taught him-strike gallantly,
Menace our heart ere we master his own;

Then let him receive the new knowledge and wait us,
Pardoned in heaven, the first by the throne!