WHEN silver snow decks Susan's clothes,
And jewel hangs at th' shepherd's nose,
The chimney-nook is all my care,
With hearth so red and walls so fair;
'Heap the sea-coal, come, heap it higher,
"The oaken log lay on the fire.'
The well-washed stools, a circling row,
With lad and lass, how fair the show!
The merry can of nut-brown ale,
The laughing jest, the love-sick tale:
"Till, tired of chat, the game begins,
The lasses prick the lads with pins;
Roger from Dolly twitched the stool,
She falling, kissed the ground, poor fool!
She blushed so red, with side-long glance
At hob-nail Dick who grieved the chance.
But now for Blind-man's Buff they call;
Of each incumbrance clear the hall!
Jenny her silken 'kerchief folds, And blear-eyed Will the black lot holds; Now, laughing, stops, with 'Silence! hush!' And Peggy Pout gives Sam a push. The Blind-man's arms, extended wide, Sam slips between;-O woe betide Thee, clumsy Will!-but tittering Kate Is penned up in the corner strait ! And now Will's eyes beheld the play, He thought his face was t'other way. Now, Kitty, now! what chance hast thou! Roger so near thee trips!-I vow She catches him!-then Roger ties His own head up, but not his eyes; For thro' the slender cloth he sees,
And runs at Sam, who slips with ease
His clumsy hold; and, dodging round,
Sukey is tumbled on the ground!
See what it is to play unfair!
Where cheating is, there's mischief there.
But Roger still pursues the chace,-
'He sees! he sees!' cries softly Grace.
O Roger, thou, unskill'd in art,
Must, surer bound, go through thy part!
Now Kitty, pert, repeats the rhymes,
And Roger turns him round three times;
Then pauses ere he starts-But Dick
Was mischief-bent upon a trick:
Down on his hands and knees he lay,
Directly in the Blind-man's way-
Then cries out, 'Hem!' Hodge heard, and ran
With hood-winked chance-sure of his man;
But down he came.-Alas, how frail
Our best of hopes, how soon they fail!
With crimsom drops he stains the ground,
Confusion startles all around!
Poor piteous Dick supports his head,
And fain would cure the hurt he made;
But Kitty hastens with a key,
And down his back they straight convey
The cold relief; the blood is stay'd,
And Hodge again holds up his head.
Such are the fortunes of the game;
And those who play should stop the same
By wholesome laws: such as,-all those
Who on the blinded man impose
Stand in his stead. So, long a-gone,
When men were first a nation grown,
Lawless they lived, till wantonness
And liberty began to increase,
And one man lay in another's way:
Then laws were made to keep fair play.
SCENE I.-The coast of France: KING EDWARD and Nobles before it; the Army.
Our names are written equal
In Fame's wide-trophied halls; 'tis ours to gild
The letters, and to make them shine with gold
That never tarnishes: whether Third Edward,
Or Prince of Wales or Montacute or Mortimer,
Or e'en the least by birth, gain brightest fame,
Is in His hand to whom all men are equal.
The world of men is like the numerous stars
That beam and twinkle in the depth of night,
Each clad in glory according to his sphere :—
But we that wander from our native seats,
And beam forth lustre on a darkling world,
Grow larger as we advance; and some, perhaps
The most obscure at home, that scarce were seen
To twinkle in their sphere, may so advance
That the astonish'd world, with upturn'd eyes,
Regardless of the moon and those once bright,
Stand only but to gaze upon their splendour.
[He here knights the Prince and other young Nobles.
Now let us take a just revenge for those
Brave lords who fell beneath the bloody axe
At Paris. Noble Harcourt, thanks, for 'twas
By your advice we landed here in Brittany,
A country not as yet sown with destruction,
And where the fiery whirlwind of swift war
Hath not yet swept its desolating wing.
Into three parties we divide by day,
And separate march, but join again at night:
Each knows his rank, and Heaven marshal all.
SCENE III.-At Cressy. The KING and SIR THOMAS DAGWORTH. The PRINCE OF WALES and SIR JOHN CHANDOS.
King. What can Sir Thomas Dagworth
Request that Edward can refuse?
Your majesty cannot refuse so mere
A trifle: I've gilt your cause with my best blood,
And would again, were I not now forbid
By him whom I am bound to obey. My hands
Are tied up, all my courage shrunk and wither'd,
My sinews slacken'd, and my voice scarce heard:
Therefore I beg I may return to England.
King. I know not what you could have ask'd, Sir Thomas,
That I would not have sooner parted with
Than such a soldier as you, and such a friend;
Nay, I will know the most remote particulars
Of this your strange petition, that if I can
I still may keep you here.
Dagw. Here on the fields of Cressy we are settled,
'Till Philip spring the timorous covey again.
The wolf is hunted down by causeless fear;
The lion flees, and fear usurps his heart,
Startled, astonish'd at the clamorous cock.
The eagle that doth gaze upon the sun
Fears the small fire that plays about the fen;
If at this moment of their idle fear
The dog seize the wolf, the forester the lion,
The negro, in the crevice of the rock,
Seize on the soaring eagle, undone by flight
They tame submit-such the effect flight has
On noble souls. Now hear its opposite :
The timorous stag starts from the thicket wild,
The fearful crane springs from the plashy fen,
The shining snake glides o'er the bending grass:
The stag turns head, and bays the crying hounds,
The crane o'ertaken fighteth with the hawk,
The snake doth turn and bite the padding foot.
And if your majesty's afraid of Philip,
You are more like a lion than a crane:
Therefore I beg I may return to England.
King. Sir Thomas, now I understand your mirth,
Which often plays with wisdom for its pastime,
And brings good counsel from the breast of laughter.
I hope you'll stay, and see us fight this battle,
And reap rich harvest in the field of Cressy,
Then go to England, tell them how we fight,
And set all hearts on fire to be with us.
Philip is plum'd, and thinks we flee from him,
Else he would never dare to attack us.
Now,
Now is the quarry set! and Death doth sport
In the bright sunshine of this fatal day.
Dagw. Now my heart dances, and I am as light
As the young bridegroom going to be married.
Now must I to my soldiers, get them ready,
Furbish our armours bright, new plume our helms,
And we will sing like the young housewives busied
In the dairy. Now my feet are wing'd, but not
For flight, an 't please your grace.
King. If all my soldiers are as pleased as you, 'Twill be a gallant thing to fight or die.
Then I can never be afraid of Philip.
Dagw. A rawbon'd fellow t'other day pass'd by me;
I told him to put off his hungry looks;
He said: 'I hunger for another battle.'
I saw a Welchman with a fiery face:
I told him that he look'd like a candle half
Burn'd out. He answer'd he was pig enough
To light another pattle.' Last night beneath
The moon I walk'd abroad when all had pitch'd
Their tents, and all were still:
I heard a blooming youth singing a song
He had compos'd, and at each pause he wip'd
His dropping eyes. The ditty was, If he
Return'd victorious he should wed a maiden
Fairer than snow and rich as midsummer.'
Another wept, and wish'd health to his father.
I chid them both, but gave them noble hopes.
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