No More Learning

me, Who said us, "Till then" for the gallows tree!
Fat Pierre with the hook gauche-main,
Thomas Larron "Ear-the-less," Tybalde and that armouress
Who gave this poignard its premier stain Pinning the Guise that had been fain
To make him a mate of the "Haulte Noblesse" And bade her be out with ill address
As a fool that mocketh his drue's disdeign.
DRI Fr
an
cois and and thee and
Margot Drink we the comrades merrily
? Drink we a skoal for the gallows tree ! Francoi-s and Margot and thee and me,
A Vi%tton-
fjf
lad of the
Gibbet
T^
Drink we to Manenne Ydole,
That hell brenn not her o'er cruelly.
i
.
TVT TT-J i
Drink we the lusty robbers twain,
Black is the pitch o' their wedding dress, Lips shrunk back for the wind's caress
As lips shrink back when we feel the strain Of love that loveth in hell's disdeign
And sense the teeth through the lips that press 'Gainst our lips for the soul's distress
That striveth to ours across the pain.
Drink we skoal to the gallows tree!
Francois and Margot and thee and me,
For Jehan and Raoul de Vallerie
Whose frames have the night and its winds in fee
Maturin, Guillaume, Jacques d'Allmain, Culdou, lacking a coat to bless
One lean moiety of his nakedness,
That plundered St. Hubert back o' the fane: Aie ! the lean bare tree is widowed again For Michault le Borgne that would confess In "faith and troth" to a traitoress,
"Which of his brothers had he slain? "
But drink we skoal to the gallows tree ! Francois and Margot and thee and me:
1 Certain gibbeted corpses used to be coated with tar as a pre- servative ; thus one scarecrow served as warning for considerable time. See Hugo, " L'Homme qui Rit. "
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A Villon- These that we loved shall God love less
fadoftfie Gibbet
^nc* sm*te alwav at their feebleness?
Skoal ! 1 to the Gallows ! and then pray we: God damn his hell out speedily
And bring their souls to his High City.
MESMERISM
"And a cat 's in the water-butt. " ROBERT BROWNING.
YE, you 're a man that ! ye old mesmerizer !
Tyin' your meanin' in seventy swadelin's, One must of needs be a hang'd early riser
To catch you at worm turning. Holy Odd's bodykins !
"Cat 's i' the water-butt! " Thought 's in your
verse-barrel,
Tell us this thing rather, then we '11 believe you,
You, Master Bob Browning, spite your apparel Jump to your sense and give praise as we 'd lief do.
You wheeze as a head-cold long-tonsilled Calliope, But,God! whatasightyouha'goto'ourin'ards, Mad as a hatter but surely no Myope,
Broad as all ocean and leanin' mankin'ards.
Heart that was big as the bowels of Vesuvius, Words that were wing'd as her sparks in eruption^
Eagled and thundered as Jupiter Pluvius, Sound in your wind past all signs o' corruption.
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