Part 23 (1/2)

”No,” said the maiden, ”go your way; You dare but think what a man would say, Yet dare to come a-suing!

I've time to lose and power to choose; 'T is not so much the gallant who woos, As the gallant's WAY of wooing!”

A third rode up at a startling pace - A suitor poor, with a homely face - No doubts appeared to bind him.

He kissed her lips and he pressed her waist, And off he rode with the maiden, placed On a pillion safe behind him.

And she heard the suitor bold confide This golden hint to the priest who tied The knot there's no undoing; With pretty young maidens who can choose, 'T is not so much the gallant who woos, As the gallant's WAY of wooing!”

Ballad: HONGREE AND MAHRY. A RECOLLECTION OF A SURREY MELODRAMA.

The sun was setting in its wonted west, When HONGREE, Sub-Lieutenant of Cha.s.soores, Met MAHRY DAUBIGNY, the Village Rose, Under the Wizard's Oak--old trysting-place Of those who loved in rosy Aquitaine.

They thought themselves unwatched, but they were not; For HONGREE, Sub-Lieutenant of Cha.s.soores, Found in LIEUTENANT-COLONEL JOOLES DUBOSC A rival, envious and unscrupulous, Who thought it not foul scorn to dodge his steps, And listen, unperceived, to all that pa.s.sed Between the simple little Village Rose And HONGREE, Sub-Lieutenant of Cha.s.soores.

A clumsy barrack-bully was DUBOSC, Quite unfamiliar with the well-bred tact That animates a proper gentleman In dealing with a girl of humble rank.

You'll understand his coa.r.s.eness when I say He would have married MAHRY DAUBIGNY, And dragged the unsophisticated girl Into the whirl of fas.h.i.+onable life, For which her singularly rustic ways, Her breeding (moral, but extremely rude), Her language (chaste, but ungrammatical), Would absolutely have unfitted her.

How different to this unreflecting boor Was HONGREE, Sub-Lieutenant of Cha.s.soores.

Contemporary with the incident Related in our opening paragraph, Was that sad war 'twixt Gallia and ourselves That followed on the treaty signed at Troyes; And so LIEUTENANT-COLONEL JOOLES DUBOSC (Brave soldier, he, with all his faults of style) And HONGREE, Sub-Lieutenant of Cha.s.soores, Were sent by CHARLES of France against the lines Of our Sixth HENRY (Fourteen twenty-nine), To drive his legions out of Aquitaine.

When HONGREE, Sub-Lieutenant of Cha.s.soores, Returned, suspecting nothing, to his camp, After his meeting with the Village Rose, He found inside his barrack letter-box A note from the commanding officer, Requiring his attendance at head-quarters.

He went, and found LIEUTENANT-COLONEL JOOLES.

”Young HONGREE, Sub-Lieutenant of Cha.s.soores, This night we shall attack the English camp: Be the 'forlorn hope' yours--you'll lead it, sir, And lead it too with credit, I've no doubt.

As every man must certainly be killed (For you are twenty 'gainst two thousand men), It is not likely that you will return.

But what of that? you'll have the benefit Of knowing that you die a soldier's death.”

Obedience was young HONGREE'S strongest point, But he imagined that he only owed Allegiance to his MAHRY and his King.

”If MAHRY bade me lead these fated men, I'd lead them--but I do not think she would.

If CHARLES, my King, said, 'Go, my son, and die,'

I'd go, of course--my duty would be clear.

But MAHRY is in bed asleep, I hope, And CHARLES, my King, a hundred leagues from this.

As for LIEUTENANT-COLONEL JOOLES DUBOSC, How know I that our monarch would approve The order he has given me to-night?

My King I've sworn in all things to obey - I'll only take my orders from my King!”

Thus HONGREE, Sub-Lieutenant of Cha.s.soores, Interpreted the terms of his commission.

And HONGREE, who was wise as he was good, Disguised himself that night in ample cloak, Round flapping hat, and vizor mask of black, And made, unnoticed, for the English camp.

He pa.s.sed the unsuspecting sentinels (Who little thought a man in this disguise Could be a proper object of suspicion), And ere the curfew bell had boomed ”lights out,”

He found in audience Bedford's haughty Duke.

”Your Grace,” he said, ”start not--be not alarmed, Although a Frenchman stands before your eyes.

I'm HONGREE, Sub-Lieutenant of Cha.s.soores.

My Colonel will attack your camp to-night, And orders me to lead the hope forlorn.

Now I am sure our excellent KING CHARLES Would not approve of this; but he's away A hundred leagues, and rather more than that.