Mute are those lips, whose mildest accents spoke Their sterling worth, down to the harmless joke; Clear-seeing his soul, for lo! that mind was one That envied nothing underneath the sun.

To speak the truth, he never was afraid; His country’s weal, his country’s laws obeyed; A pensive calm reigned on his noble brow, While in his eye you read the solemn vow:—

“I harm no one; no one will I betray; My duty is to watch and see fair play; My friendship is to no one set confined; My heart and hand are given to all mankind.”

Oh ancient town of legendary strain When will his place in thee be filled again! For men like he, possessed of sterling worth, Are few and far between upon the earth.

Such was the man the weeping mourners mourn, Lost to his friends, ah! never to return; Fled to the spheres where he in peace must dwell, While all who knew him bid a long farewell.

p. 57A Yorkshireman’s Christmas.

p. 57

Aw hev ten or twelve pund o’ gooid meit, A small cheese an’ a barrel o’ beer; Aw’ll welcome King Kersmas to neet, For he nobbut comes once in a year.

Send ahr Will dahn ta Tommy Spoyle Wood’s, An’ tell him ta send up a log; An’ tell him an’ Betty to come, For Tommy’s a jolly owd dog.

Aw mean ta forget all my debts, An’ aw mean ta harbour no grief; Nobbut emptying glasses an’ plates O’ their contents o’ beer an’ gooid beef.

Them barns they care nowt abaht drink, Like us ’at’s advanced into years; So Sally, lass, what does ta think, If ta buys ’em some apples an’ pears?

Ahr David’s a fine little lad, An’ ahr Nancy’s a fine little lass; When aw see ’em aw do feel so glad, So bring me a quart an’ a glass!

Come, Sally, an’ sit bi mi side, We’ve hed both wur ups an’ wur dahns; Awm fane at aw made thee mi bride, An’ awm prahd o’ both thee an’ wur barns.

We’re as happy as them ’at’s more brass, In a festival holly-decked hall; We envy no mortal, owd lass; Here’s peace an’ good-will unto all!

p. 58An’ may ev’ry poor crater to neet, If nivver before in his life, Hev plenty to drink an’ to eyt, Fer both him, an’ his barns, an’ his wife.

p. 58

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