Tell Gretchen to hasten and clear out the bedroom Is more than I dare; So where shall she go, in the purple or blue? And take care that, as soon as the cloth is removed, Old Max, of whose singing I oft have approved, Comes up with his harp, he will serve to amuse." The banquet is spread; At his table's head, Decked, out in gay garments, sits Rupert the Red; Is the queen of the night, Fair Margret, whose beauty's completely a sight Which 'twere worth a king's ransom once only to sip; And humour called "chaffing," And dining, and wine-ing, and e'en half-andhalf-ing, And gambling, and vices called "having your fling"), Exclaimed to Hans König (in English, Jack King), "By Jove, Hans, the gov'nor's hit under the wing!" "Now come hither, old Max," Sir Rupert cried, "And sing us a merry song, Or tell us of Siegfried's blooming bride, Or the priest who was plunged in the Rhine's cold tide For indulging his wishes wrong." The old man sung a sentimental strain, And, while he sings, they vanish from his sight From life's first blushing flowers had robbed the bloom. Sweet season, long expected, quickly past, In youth love's fire too fiercely burns to last! The minstrel's song was no sooner done, Than 'twas plain that his lay had extinguished the fun, And yawning fearfully, one by one, They vanished knights and ladies. The lights were put out, not a single "glim" My story thus forward, I now must relate And so, to prevent the smallest mystery, Or the thread of my story from getting a twist awry, To his death, which took place ere the date of my history, I must call my readers' attention. Blutwurst and Rupert were two pretty men That Corsican Brother, Or Damon, or Pythias, or Siamese twin, Ne'er cared for his friend, or his kith, or his kin, And this proved the case between Blutwurst and Ru pert. The former, perhaps, in his language was too pert; barities," "bar Sir Rupert declined to subscribe to some charities Which Blutwurst advised as a species of "hedge." Then the latter blazed out;-the "thin end of the wedge" Being thus once inserted the matter grew serious. Each spake words of high disdain And insult to his heart's best brother "Just repeat those words again !" "You're a scoundrel!" "You're another!" With curses and oaths, to repeat which would weary us, Till from furious words they proceeded to blows. Who first drew his rapier nobody knows; But Hans, the old seneschal, sitting down stairs, Heard a shriek then a plunge in the river, he swears; And going up found Rupert, all haggard and wan, Till the body was found A great distance off-in fact, down at Dusseldorf, Where, after much talking and more Hollands toddy, By some persons unknown, with malicious design! And rests her head on her snow-white hand; Of curls, ne'er touched by the crimping brand; She thinks of Sir Rupert's attentions that night, And of them, too, she thinks less with pleasure than fright; For his great leering eyes, Seem before her to rise, And she looks o'er her shoulder, and shivers and sighs, For the room is so large, and the pictures so grim, And the wind howls so loud, and her light burns so dim, And she sees in the mirror, not herself, but him. Yes! he kneels at her side; Says he wont be denied; And calls her "his dear little duck of a bride!' His utt'rance is thick, his cravat is untied, If you've seen Mrs. Kean In that excellent scene Which she with Mr. Wigan so forcibly plays, When her scorn for her tempter, her love for her spouse, Rejected Sir Rupert at once, there and then. Declared himself "floored," Wept by turns and entreated, then ranted and roared; She still was disdainful, And said, "it was painful To witness the friend of her brother so lowered." Till, maddened with fury, he seized her, and said— "Be mine, or thou'rt numbered this night with the dead. No maiden has yet refused Rupert the Red!" That instant there rang through the castle a shriek, Stood Blutwurst the brave, Who'd arrived just in time his poor sister to save. Made one strong exclamation, then sunk on the floor. |