For loss of that uncommon fowl They couldn’t get a breeze; And there they stuck, all out of luck, And rotted on the seas. The crew all died, or seemed to die, And he was left alone With that queer bird. You never heard What games were carried on! At last one day he stood and watched The fishes in the sea, And said, “I’m blest!” and so the ship Was from the spell set free! And it began to rain and blow, And as it rained and blew, The dead got up and worked the ship―― That was a likely crew! However, somehow he escaped, And got again to land; But mad as any hatter, say, From Cornhill to the Strand. For he believes that certain folks Are singled out by fate, To whom this cock-and-bull affair Of his he must relate. Describing all the incidents, And painting all the scenes, As sailors will do in the tales They tell to the Marines. Confound the Ancient Mariner! I knew I should be late; And so it was: the wedding guests Had all declined to wait. Another had my place, and gave My toast; and sister Fan Said, “’Twas a shame. What _could_ you want With that seafaring man?” I felt like one that had been stunned Through all this wrong and scorn; A sadder and a later man I rose the morrow morn. _Funny Folks._ 1878. ―――― THE RHYME OF THE ANCIENT BLUE. It is an ancient Blue-coat boy, And he stoppeth one of three. “By thine old Blue-coat and tawdry hose, Now wherefore stopp’st thou me? “The Hall, its doors are opened wide, And I am going up, Step up the stairs, and walk inside, And see the Public sup!” He holds him with his horny hand, “There was a time,” quoth he; “Leave go, unhand me, Shabby Blue,” Eftsoons his hand dropped he. He holds him with his glittering eye, The Supper Guest stood still, He listened like a three-years child, The Blue-coat hath his will. The Supper Guest sat on a stone, He cannot choose but hear, And thus, forsooth, that seedy youth Spake, whispering in his ear:―― “The Hall was packed, it is a fact, Merrily did we eat, The Mayor was there, and ladies fair, The Blue-coat Boys were neat. “The music played, it was arranged, And shining was my head, And I was bound for taking round The basket with the bread. “The band had stopt their noisy din, Painful it was to hear, And rising up, we left our seats Ere bowing to the Chair. “My robes were blue, ay, very blue, My legs like golden sands, To make a bob it was a job So starchèd were my bands. “Pair after pair, pair after pair We bowed, all tramp, all motion, Just like a string of tiny scrubs Receiving chilblain lotion. “Bowing, bowing, all the time Till I began to blink; Bowing, bowing all the time, And more to bow――I shrink.