An' the fever 'ed baäked Jinny's 'eäd as bald as one o' them

heggs,

An' Nelly wur up fro' the craädle as big i' the mouth as a

cow,

An' saw she mun hammergrate,1 lass, or she weänt git a maäte onyhow!

An' es fur Miss Annie es call'd me afoor my awn foälks to my faäce

"A hignorant village wife as 'ud hev to be larn'd her awn

plaäce,"

Hes fur Miss Hannie the heldest hes now be a-grawin' sa

howd,

I knaws that mooch o' sheä, es it beänt not fit to be towd!

XVII.

Sa I did n't not taäke it kindly ov owd Miss Annie to saäy Es I should be talkin' ageän' em, es soon es they went

waäy,

Fur, lawks! 'ow I cried when they went, an' our Nelly she gied me 'er 'and,

Fur I'd ha done owt fur the Squire an' 'is gells es belong'd to the land;

Booöks, es I said afoor, thebbe neyther 'ere nor theer!
But I sarved 'em wi' butter an' heggs fur huppuds o' twenty

year.

XVIII.

An' they hallus paäid what I hax'd, sa I hallus deel'd wi' the

Hall,

An' they knaw'd what butter wur, an' they knaw'd what a hegg wur an' all;

Ilugger-mugger they lived, but they was n't that easy to pleäse,

Till I gied 'em Hinjian curn, an' they laäid big heggs es

tha seeas;

An' I niver puts saäme 2 i' my butter, they does it at Willis'

farm,

Taste another drop o' the wine - tweänt do tha naw harm.

1 Emigrate.

2 Lard.

XIX.

Sa new Squire 's coom'd wi' 'is taäil in 'is 'and, an' owd Squire's gone;

I heard 'im a roomlin' by, but arter my nightcap wur

on;

Sa I han't clapt eyes on 'im yit, fur he coom'd last night sa

Pluksh!!!1 the hens i' the peäs! why didn't tha hesp the gaäte?

DE PROFUNDIS.

OUT

THE TWO GREETINGS.

I.

UT of the deep, my child, out of the deep,
Where all that was to be, in all that was,
Whirl'd for a million æons thro' the vast
Waste dawn of multitudinous-eddying light-
Out of the deep, my child, out of the deep,
Thro' all this changing world of changeless law,
And every phase of ever-heightening life,

And nine long months of antenatal gloom,

With this last moon, this crescent-her dark orb
Touch'd with earth's light thou comest, darling boy;
Our own; a babe in lineament and limb

Perfect, and prophet of the perfect man;

Whose face and form are hers and mine in one,

Indissolubly married like our love;

Live and be happy in thyself, and serve

This mortal race thy kin so well, that men
May bless thee as we bless thee, O young life
Breaking with laughter from the dark; and may

1 A cry accompanied by a clapping of hands to scare trespassing fowl.

The fated channel where thy motion lives
Be prosperously shaped, and sway thy course
Along the years of haste and random youth.
Unshatter'd, then full-current thro' full man;
And last in kindly curves, with gentlest fall,
By quiet fields, a slowly-dying power,

To that last deep where we and thou art still.

II.

I.

Out of the deep, my child, out of the deep,
From that great deep, before our world begins,
Whereon the Spirit of God moves as he will
Out of the deep, my child, out of the deep,
From that true world within the world we see,
Whereof our world is but the bounding shore -
Out of the deep, Spirit, out of the deep,
With this ninth moon, that sends the hidden sun
Down yon dark sea, thou comest, darling boy.

II.

For in the world which is not ours, They said
"Let us make man" and that which should be man,
From that one light no man can look upon,

Drew to this shore lit by the suns and moons
And all the shadows. O dear Spirit half-lost

In thine own shadow and this fleshly sign
That thou art thou - who wailest. being born
And banish'd into mystery, and the pain
Of this divisible-indivisible world
Among the numerable-innumerable

Sun, sun, and sun, thro' finite-infinite space
In finite-infinite Time — our mortal veil

And shatter'd phantom of that infinite One,
Who made thee unconceivably Thyself

Out of His whole World-self and all in all

Live thou! and of the grain and husk, the grape
And ivyberry, choose; and still depart

From death to death thro' life and life, and find
Nearer and ever nearer Him, who wrought
Not Matter, nor the finite-infinite,

But this main miracle, that thou art thou,
With power on thine own act and on the world.

THE HUMAN CRY.

I.

ALLOWED be Thy name- Halleluiah!

HALLOWED

Infinite Ideality!

Immeasurable Reality!

Infinite Personality!

Hallowèd be Thy name Halleluiah!

II.

We feel we are nothing-for all is Thou and in Thee;
We feel we are something—that also has come from Thee;
We know we are nothing but Thou wilt help us to be.
Hallowèd be Thy name

Halleluiah!

THE NEW TIMON AND THE POETS†

E know him, out of Shakespeare's art,

WE

And those fine curses which he spoke;
The old Timon, with his noble heart,
That, strongly loathing, greatly broke.

So died the Old: here comes the New.
Regard him: a familiar face:

I thought we knew him: What, it's you,
The padded man that wears the stays-

↑ Published in Punch, February, 1846, signed "Alcibiades."

Who killed the girls and thrilled the boys
With dandy pathos when you wrote!
A Lion, you, that made a noise,
And shook a mane en papillotes.

And once you tried the Muses too;
You failed, Sir: therefore now you turn,
To fall on those who are to you
As Captain is to Subaltern.

But men of long-enduring hopes,

And careless what this hour may bring, Can pardon little would-be POPES

And BRUMMELS, when they try to sting.

An Artist, Sir, should rest in Art,
And waive a little of his claim;

To have the deep Poetic heart
Is more than all poetic fame.

But you, Sir, you are hard to please;
You never look but half content;

Nor like a gentleman at ease,

With moral breadth of temperament.

And what with spites and what with fears, You cannot let a body be:

It's always ringing in your ears,

"They call this man as good as me."

You talk of tinsel! why, we see

The old mark of rouge upon your cheeks.

You prate of Nature! you are he

That spilt his life about the cliques.