And I made a rural pen, And I stain"d the water clear, And I wrote my happy songs Every child may joy to hear.
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Eliza Cook (1818-1889) was an English poet who had quite a vogue in her day, and whose poem "Try Again" deals with one of those incidents held in affectionate remembrance by youth.
Bruce and the spider may be less historically true, but it seems destined to eternal life alongside Leonidas and his Spartans. Older readers may remember Miss Cook"s "My Old Arm Chair," which is usually given the place of honor as her most popular poem.
TRY AGAIN
ELIZA COOK
King Bruce of Scotland flung himself down In a lonely mood to think: "Tis true he was monarch, and wore a crown, But his heart was beginning to sink.
For he had been trying to do a great deed, To make his people glad; He had tried and tried, but couldn"t succeed; And so he became quite sad.
He flung himself down in low despair, As grieved as man could be; And after a while as he pondered there, "I"ll give it all up," said he.
Now, just at the moment, a spider dropped, With its silken, filmy clue; And the King, in the midst of his thinking, stopped To see what the spider would do.
"Twas a long way up to the ceiling dome, And it hung by a rope so fine, That how it would get to its cobweb home King Bruce could not divine.
It soon began to cling and crawl Straight up, with strong endeavor; But down it came with a slippery sprawl, As near to the ground as ever.
Up, up it ran, not a second to stay, To utter the least complaint, Till it fell still lower, and there it lay, A little dizzy and faint.
Its head grew steady--again it went, And traveled a half yard higher; "Twas a delicate thread it had to tread, And a road where its feet would tire.
Again it fell and swung below, But again it quickly mounted; Till up and down, now fast, now slow, Nine brave attempts were counted.
"Sure," cried the King, "that foolish thing Will strive no more to climb; When it toils so hard to reach and cling, And tumbles every time."
But up the insect went once more; Ah me! "tis an anxious minute; He"s only a foot from his cobweb door.
Oh, say, will he lose or win it?
Steadily, steadily, inch by inch, Higher and higher he got; And a bold little run at the very last pinch Put him into his native cot.
"Bravo, bravo!" the King cried out; "All honor to those who _try_; The spider up there, defied despair; He conquered, and why shouldn"t I?"
And Bruce of Scotland braced his mind, And gossips tell the tale, That he tried once more as he tried before, And that time did not fail.
Pay goodly heed, all ye who read, And beware of saying, "I _can"t_"; "Tis a cowardly word, and apt to lead To idleness, folly, and want.
Whenever you find your heart despair Of doing some goodly thing, Con over this strain, try bravely again, And remember the spider and King!
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Nonsense verse seems to have its special place in the economy of life as a sort of balance to the over-serious tendency. One of the two great masters of verse of this sort was the English author Edward Lear (1812-1888). He was also a famous ill.u.s.trator of books and magazines.
Among his juvenile books, ill.u.s.trated by himself, were _Nonsense Songs_ and _More Nonsense Songs_. All his verse is now generally published under the first t.i.tle. Good nonsense verse precludes explanation, the mind of the hearer being too busy with the delightfully odd combinations to figure on how they happened.
THE OWL AND THE p.u.s.s.y-CAT
EDWARD LEAR
The Owl and the p.u.s.s.y-Cat went to sea In a beautiful pea-green boat: They took some honey, and plenty of money Wrapped up in a five-pound note.
The Owl looked up to the stars above, And sang to a small guitar, "O lovely p.u.s.s.y, O p.u.s.s.y, my love, What a beautiful p.u.s.s.y you are, You are, You are!
What a beautiful p.u.s.s.y you are!"
p.u.s.s.y said to the Owl, "You elegant fowl, How charmingly sweet you sing!
Oh! let us be married; too long we have tarried: But what shall we do for a ring?"
They sailed away, for a year and a day, To the land where the bong-tree grows; And there in a wood a Piggy-wig stood, With a ring at the end of his nose, His nose, His nose, With a ring at the end of his nose.
"Dear Pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling Your ring?" Said the Piggy, "I will."
So they took it away, and were married next day By the Turkey who lives on the hill.
They dined on mince, and slices of quince, Which they ate with a runcible spoon; And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand, They danced by the light of the moon, The moon, The moon, They danced by the light of the moon.
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THE TABLE AND THE CHAIR
EDWARD LEAR
Said the Table to the Chair, "You can hardly be aware How I suffer from the heat And from chilblains on my feet.
If we took a little walk, We might have a little talk; Pray let us take the air,"
Said the Table to the Chair.
Said the Chair unto the Table, "Now, you _know_ we are not able: How foolishly you talk, When you know we _cannot_ walk!"
Said the Table with a sigh, "It can do no harm to try.
I"ve as many legs as you: Why can"t we walk on two?"
So they both went slowly down, And walked about the town With a cheerful b.u.mpy sound As they toddled round and round; And everybody cried, As they hastened to their side, "See! the Table and the Chair Have come out to take the air!"
But in going down an alley, To a castle in a valley, They completely lost their way, And wandered all the day; Till, to see them safely back, They paid a Ducky-quack, And a Beetle, and a Mouse, Who took them to their house.
Then they whispered to each other, "O delightful little brother, What a lovely walk we"ve taken!
Let us dine on beans and bacon."
So the Ducky and the leetle Browny-mousy and the Beetle Dined, and danced upon their heads Till they toddled to their beds.
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