The Sun.
London, England, 1855-11-08 00:00:00

LITERATURE

Ballads : Rolnantic, Fantastical, and Humorous.
By William liarribon Ainsworth. G. Routledgo

acid Co.

Precisely the very volume we have long wished
for—and to the which we are here enabled at last
to accord the heartiest welcome imaginable. In
this charming little volume will be found collected
together for the first time, we believe, the nume-
rous lyrics scattered through the romances, novels,
tales, and historiettes penned by Harrison Ains-
worth. The musical, comical, pathetic, humorous,
legendary fragments of verse sprinkled up and
down those wondrous stories of gloom, and mys-
tery, and adventure which have built up gradually
but perceptibly the fabric of our author's reputa-
tion. Here they all are at length strung together
like !'gems in ono ample coronal. " Fantastical
Ballads" from Old St. Paul's, that grill and
ghastly tale of the fire and plague. " Romantic
Ballads" from Crichton, that most romantic if not
most chivalrous of adventurers. " Legendary
Ballads" from the Flitch of Bacon, that quaintest
memorial of the quaint old Custom of Dunmow.
" Humorous Ballads" from Book,wood, still to our
mind incomparably Mr. Ainsworth's masterpiece,
and from Jack Sheppard, in many respects the
most enthralling and animated of his motley com-
positions. Among these same "Humorous Ballads"
those wonderful slang ditties which are far and
away the very best things ever accomplished in this
most curious branch of our popular literature.
Hero they all are at last collected together as they
ought to have been long ago—classified under the
distinctive heads already indicated, and embellished
with eight graceful illustrations from the inex-
haustible fancy of John Gilbert. So—here we may
listen to their strange melodies once more—apart
from the long interruptions of the prose letterpress.
Listen ! It is the old gravedigger chaunting again
to the clank of his greasy mattock and spade—

The Carrion Crow 's a sexton bold,
He raketh the dead from out the mould;
He delveth the ground like a miser old,
Stealthily hiding his store of gold.
Caw! (,yaw!
The Carrion Crow bath a coat of black,
Silky and sleek, like a priest's to his back ;
Like alewyer he grubbeth—no matter what way—
The fouler the offal, the richer his prey.
Caw I Caw! the Carrion Crow !
Dig! Dig! in the ground below!
Or, hark ! again—lt is Manger the headsman
croaking to the whir ! of the wheel, sharpening
the edge of his axe—
- - • -•

" Salisbury's Countess, she would not die
As a proud dame should—decorously.
Lifting my axe, I split her skull,
And the edge for a month it was notched and dull.
Whir—whir—whir—whir !"
Again !—lt is the witch-howl--
At the foot of the gibbet the mandrake springs
Just whore the creaking carcase swings ;
Some have thought it engendered
From the fat that drops from the bones of the dead ;
Some have thought it a human thing;
But this is a vain imagining.
Maranatha— A nathent!
Dread is the curse of Mandragora!
Rathanasy I
Do we want a defter verse, or daintier tones of
music ? Listen !

Marguerite, with early wiles—
Marguerite
On light Chains and D'Antragues smiles—
Margot, Marguerite.
Older grown, she favours then,
Smooth Martigues, and bluff Turenne.
The latter but a foolish pas,
Margot, Marguerite en bas.
Aro we inflamed with a zest for tho bacchanalian?
Hero aro assuagements for our literary thirst plen-
tiful and appetising
•
" sadly afraid of my Old Complaint—
Dying of thirst.—Not a drop I've drunk
For more' than all hour : 'Tis too long to wait.
Wonderful how my spirits have sunk !
Provocation enough it is for a saint
To suffer so much from my Old Complaint !"
Or—" a bettor song than t' other :"
" The Toper who knows how to empty his can
Is not half so afraid of a highwayman
As he is of indifferent tipple :
With the last a stout fellow may fight for his purse;
Of the other the consequence certain is worse
Down the throat if permitted to ripple."