Yet, should some neighbor feel a Just in the parts where I complain, Inquire what regimen I kept? Behold the fatal day arrive! WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY. THE BALLAD OF BOUILLABAISSE. | And Cordelier or Benedictine A STREET there is in Paris famous, For which no rhyme our language yields, Rue Neuve des Petits Champs its name is The New Street of the Little Fields: And there's an inn, not rich and splendid, But still in comfortable case — Soles, onions, garlic, roach, and All these you eat at Terré's tavern, In that one dish of Bouillabaisse. Indeed, a rich and savory stew 't is; And true philosophers, methinks, Who love all sorts of natural beauties, Should love good victuals and good drinks. Might gladly, sure, his lot embrace, Nor find a fast-day too afflicting, Which served him up a Bouilla baisse. I wonder if the house still there is? I recollect his droll grimace; And hoped you liked your Bouillabaisse. We enter; nothing's changed or older. "How's Monsieur Terré, waiter, pray ?" The waiter stares and shrugs his "It is the lot of saint and sinner. So honest Terré's run his race!" "What will Monsieur require for dinner ?" "Say, do you still cook Bouillabaisse ?" Where are you, old companions trusty The kind old voices and old faces My memory can quick retrace; Around the board they take their places, A fair young form was nestled near me, A dear, dear face looked fondly up, And sweetly spoke and smiled to cheer me. -There's no one now to share my cup. I drink it as the Fates ordain it. Come, fill it, and have done with Fill up the lonely glass and drain it And sit you down and say your With thankful heart whate'er the meal is. Here comes the smoking Bouillabaisse! SORROWS OF WERTHER. WERTHER had a love for Charlotte And share the wine and Bouilla-And for all the wealth of Indies baisse. Would do nothing for to hurt her. So he sighed and pined and ogled, And no more was by it troubled. Charlotte having seen his body Borne before her on a shutter, LITTLE BILLEE. THERE were three sailors of Bristol Who took a boat and went to sea, But first with beef and captain's biscuits, And pickled pork they loaded she. And, looking grave, "You must," says he, "Quit your sweet bride, and come with me. THE tree of deepest root is found rages, "With you! and quit my Susan's side? With you!" the hapless husband cried; hard! Besides, in truth, I'm not prepared: His reasons could not well be So Death the poor delinquent spared, Yet calling up a serious look, His hour-glass trembled while he spoke more "Neighbor," he said, “farewell! no [hour; Shall Death disturb your mirthful And further, to avoid all blame Of cruelty upon my name, To give you time for preparation, And fit you for your future station, Three several warnings you shall have, Before you're summoned to the grave; Willing for once I'll quit my prey, And grant a kind reprieve, In hopes you'll have no more to say, But when I call again this way, Well pleased the world will leave." To these conditions both consented, And parted perfectly contented. "Nay, then," the spectre stern So come along, no more we'll part. " Over the table, look out for the lamp! The rogue is growing a little old; Five years we've tramped through wind and weather, And slept out-doors when nights were cold, And eat and drank-and starvedtogether. We've learned what comfort is, I tell you! A bed on the floor, a bit of rosin, A fire to thaw our thumbs (poor fellow! The paw he holds up there's been frozen), Plenty of catgut for my fiddle (This out-door business is bad for strings), Then a few nice buckwheats hot from the griddle. And Roger and I set up for kings! No, thank ye, sir, I never drink; head? What a pity, sir, that dogs can't talk! He understands every word that's said, And he knows good milk from water-and-chalk. The truth is, sir, now I reflect, I've been so sadly given to grog, I wonder I've not lost the respect (Here's to you, sir!) even of my But he sticks by, through thick and dog. thin; And this old coat, with its empty pockets, And rags that smell of tobacco and gin. He'll follow while he has eyes in his sockets. |