In greeting with honour befitting his station One who stuck to his can Of cold water "without"-then he'd take such a lot of it! None of your sips That just moisten the lips; At one single draught he'd toss off a whole pot of it, By the way if they bring It you iced, as at Verey's, or fresh from the spring, When the Dog Star compels folks in town to take wing, Though I own even then I should see no great sin in it, Were there three drops of Sir Felix's gin in it. Well, leaving the lady to follow her pleasure, On the same dismal lay, "Oh dear! what will become of us? Oh dear! what can we do? We shall die of blue devils if some of us, At length in despair of obtaining his ends By his own mother wit, he takes courage, and sends, Not his Lyndhursts or Eldons, or any such high sirs, "My gallants so free, My bold Rigmarole, and my brave Rigmaree, And I will too, I must have some fun, that's flat-aye, as sure as a gun, So find me out something new under the sun,' Or I'll knock your three jobbernowls all into one ;— Resolve me-propound in three skips of a flea !" Rigmarole gave a "Ha!" Rigmaree gave a "Hem!" Responded, "You know, sir, That question's some time been a regular poser; Dear me !-Let me see,- Something new?-Eh!-No!-Yes!-No ;-it's really no go, sir." On the whole, as King Cole, with his pipe and his bowl; With his hand to his heart and his eye to the ground, That as touching a 'lark' I'm, as much as your Highness can be, in the dark; Unless, peradventure you'd tea' with your wife!" Nonsense!-humbug!-fudge!-stuff! Mort de ma vie ! My dear Rigmaree, You're the man, after all,-come, by way of a fee, 6 "That's the thing! that will do! Cries Rigmaree, rubbing his hands, "that will please- A man half so famous For devildoms,-Sir, it's the great Nostradamus! Why he'd beat, at digesting a sword, or Gun tricks' With this chap at short whist, or unlimited loo, 6 By the Pope you'd soon find it a regular Do:' Why he does as he likes with the cards,-when he's got 'em, Then for casting Nativities !-only you look At the volume he's published,-that wonderful book! In all France not another, to swear I dare venture, is The warning, And get the next morning His poke in the eye from that clumsy Montgomery? You're well inside his door, All your Highness may wish to be up to, and more!" "Bravo!-capital !-come, let's disguise ourselves-quick! The moon in gentle radiance shone O'er lowly roof and lordly bower, Or where, perchance, some slumberer's nose A hint or elbow bone; It might, with such trifling exceptions, be said, But hark! a sound invades the ear, Of horses' hoofs advancing near! They gain the bridge-they pass-they're here! Two strangers ride, For the streets in Thoulouse are sufficiently wide, Near an odd looking shop, And they knock, and they ring, and they won't be denied. At length the command Of some unseen hand Chains, and bolts, and bars obey, And the thick-ribbed oaken door, old and gray, They leave their steeds to a page's care, And they enter the house, that resolute pair, shins ! Yet every thing there they find quite comme il faut; Pickled snakes, potted lizards, in bottles and basons Looking solemn and wise, Or betraying the slightest degree of surprise, Don't fatten While reading and thinking, his age might be sixty or thereabout. Raising his eye so grave and so sage, From some manuscript work of a bygone age, With his hand, from the light, Says, "Well, Sirs, what would you at this time of night?— What brings you abroad these lone chambers to tread, When all sober folks are at home and abed?" "Trav❜lers we, In our degree, All strange sights we fain would see, We have far to go, and we come from far, And your fame, and our aim, Great Sir, is to witness, ere yet we depart From Thoulouse,—and to-morrow at cock-crow we startYour skill-we would fain crave a touch of your Art!" "Now naye, now naye-no trav'lers ye! Nobles ye be Of high degree! With half an eye that one may easily see, Count Raymond, your servant!-Yours, Lord Rigmaree! I see what you'd be at- I myself must be hundreds of miles on my way; From their mouldering bed? Shall I send you yourselves down to Hades instead?— That we're curious that way; But, in brief, if you'll pardon the trouble we're giving, This case, as to viewing Our spouses, and just ascertain what they're doing?" "Just what pleases your Highness-I don't care a sous in The matter-but don't let old Nick and his crew in !" "Agreed !—pray proceed then, most sage Nostradamus, And show us our Wives-I dare swear they won't shame us!" A change comes o'er the Wizard's face, And his solemn look by degrees gives place To a half grave, half comical, kind of grimace. "For good or for ill I work your will! Yours be the risk, and mine the skill; He takes from a shelf, and he pops on his head, |