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I. MARCHING ALONG
I
Kentish Sir Byng stood for his King, Bidding the crop-headed Parliament swing: And, pressing a troop unable to stoop And see the rogues flourish and honest folk droop, Marched them along, fifty-score strong, Great-hearted gentlemen, singing this song.
[Ill.u.s.tration: The Tower: Traitors' Gate]
II
G.o.d for King Charles! Pym and such carles To the Devil that prompts 'em their treasonous parles!
Cavaliers, up! Lips from the cup, Hands from the pasty, nor bite take nor sup Till you're--
CHORUS.--_Marching along, fifty-score strong, Great-hearted gentlemen, singing this song._
III
Hampden to h.e.l.l, and his obsequies' knell Serve Hazelrig, Fiennes, and young Harry as well!
England, good cheer! Rupert is near!
Kentish and loyalists, keep we not here
CHORUS.--_Marching along, fifty-score strong, Great-hearted gentlemen, singing this song?_
IV
Then, G.o.d for King Charles! Pym and his snarls To the Devil that p.r.i.c.ks on such pestilent carles!
Hold by the right, you double your might; So, onward to Nottingham, fresh for the fight,
CHORUS.--_March we along, fifty-score strong, Great-hearted gentlemen, singing this song!_
II. GIVE A ROUSE
I
King Charles, and who'll do him right now?
King Charles, and who's ripe for fight now?
Give a rouse: here's, in h.e.l.l's despite now, King Charles!
II
Who gave me the goods that went since?
Who raised me the house that sank once?
Who helped me to gold I spent since?
Who found me in wine you drank once?
CHORUS.--_King Charles, and who'll do him right now?
King Charles, and who's ripe for fight now?
Give a rouse: here's, in h.e.l.l's despite now, King Charles!_
III
To whom used my boy George quaff else, By the old fool's side that begot him?
For whom did he cheer and laugh else, While Noll's d.a.m.ned troopers shot him?
CHORUS.--_King Charles, and who'll do him right now?
King Charles, and who's ripe for fight now?
Give a rouse: here's, in h.e.l.l's despite now, King Charles!_
III. BOOT AND SADDLE
I
Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!
Rescue my castle before the hot day Brightens to blue from its silvery grey,
CHORUS.--"_Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!_"
II
Ride past the suburbs, asleep as you'd say; Many's the friend there, will listen and pray "G.o.d's luck to gallants that strike up the lay--"
CHORUS.--"_Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!_"
III
Forty miles off, like a roebuck at bay, Flouts Castle Brancepeth the Roundheads' array: Who laughs, "Good fellows ere this, by my fay,"
CHORUS.--"_Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!_"
IV
Who? My wife Gertrude; that, honest and gay, Laughs when you talk of surrendering, "Nay!
I've better counsellors; what counsel they?"
CHORUS.--"_Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!_"
Though not ill.u.s.trative of the subject in hand, "Martin Relph" is included here on account of the glimpse it gives of an episode, interesting in English History, though devoid of serious consequences, since it marked the final abortive struggle of a dying cause.
An imaginary incident of the rebellion in the time of George II., forms the background of "Martin Relph," the point of the story being the life-long agony of reproach suffered by Martin who let his envy and jealousy conquer him at a crucial moment. The history of the attempt of Charles Edward to get back the crown of England, supported by a few thousand Highlanders, of his final defeat at the Battle of Culloden, and of the decay henceforth of Jacobitism, needs no telling. The treatment of spies as herein shown is a common-place of war-times, but that a reprieve exonerating the accused should be prevented from reaching its destination in time through the jealousy of the only person who saw it coming gives the episode a tragic touch lifting it into an atmosphere of peculiar individual pathos.
MARTIN RELPH
_My grandfather says he remembers he saw, when a youngster long ago, On a bright May day, a strange old man, with a beard as white as snow, Stand on the hill outside our town like a monument of woe, And, striking his bare bald head the while, sob out the reason--so!_
If I last as long at Methuselah I shall never forgive myself: But--G.o.d forgive me, that I pray, unhappy Martin Relph, As coward, coward I call him--him, yes, him! Away from me!
