The Barber's Hornpipe, by the learned D****.

The Turk's Head Revel.

Saint Christopher's March.

The Committee in Danger.

The Cloisters, Eton

[Ill.u.s.tration: page059]

~59~~

HERBERT STOCKh.o.r.e, THE MONTEM POET LAUREATE.

A SKETCH FROM THE LIFE,

As he appeared in the Montent Procession of May, 1823.

BY BERNARD BLACKMANTLE, AND ROBERT TRANSIT

Bending beneath a weight of time, And crippled as his Montem ode, We found the humble son of rhyme

Busy beside the public road.

Nor laurel'd wreath or harp had he,

To deck his brow or touch the note That wakes the soul to sympathy.

His face was piteous as his coat, 'Twas motley strange; e'en nature's self,

In wild, eccentric, playful mood, Had, for her pastime, form'd the elf,

A being scarcely understood-- Half idiot, harmless; yet a gleam

Of sense, and whim, and shrewdness, broke The current of his wildest stream;

And pity sigh'd as madness spoke.

~60~~

Lavater, Lawrence, Camper, here

Philosophy new light had caught: Judged by your doctrines 'twould appear

The facial line denoted thought.{1} But say, what system e'er shall trace

By scalp or visage mental worth?

The ideot's form, the maniac's face,

Are shared alike by all on earth.

"Comparative Anatomy--"

If, Stockh.o.r.e, 'twas to thee apply'd, 'Twould set the doubting Gallist free,

And Spurzheim's idle tales deride.

But hence with visionary scheme,

Though Bell, or Abernethy, write; Be Herbert Stockh.o.r.e all my theme,

The laureate's praises I indite; He erst who sung in Montem's praise,

And, Thespis like, from out his cart Recited his extempore lays,

On Eton's sons, in costume smart, Who told of captains bold and grand,

Lieutenants, marshals, seeking _salt_; Of colonels, majors, cap in hand,

Who bade e'en majesty to halt;

1 It is hardly possible to conceive a more intelligent, venerable looking head, than poor Herbert Stockh.o.r.e presents; a fine capacious forehead, rising like a promontory of knowledge, from a bold outline of countenance, every feature decisive, breathing serenity and thoughtfulness, with here and there a few straggling locks of silvery gray, which, like the time-discoloured moss upon some ancient battlements, are the true emblems of antiquity: the eye alone is generally dull and sunken in the visage, but during his temporary gleams of sanity, or fancied flights of poetical inspiration, it is unusually bright and animated. According to professor Camper, I should think the facial line would make an angle of eighty or ninety degrees; and, judging upon the principles laid down by Lavater, poor Herbert might pa.s.s for a Solon. Of his b.u.mps, or phrenological protuberances, I did not take particular notice, but I have no doubt they would be found, upon examination, equally ill.u.s.trative of such visionary systems.

~61~~

Told how the ensign n.o.bly waved

The colours on the famous hill; And names from dull oblivion saved,

Who ne'er the niche of fame can fill: Who, like to Campbell, lends his name.{2}

To many a whim he ne'er did write; When witty scholars, to their shame,

'Gainst masters hurl a satire trite.{3} But fare thee well, Ad Montem's bard,{4}

Farewell, my mem'ry's early friend

2 The author of "the Pleasures of Hope," and the editor of the New Monthly; but-"_Tarde, quo credita lodunt, credimus_."

3 It has long been the custom at Eton, particularly during Montem, to give Herbert Stockh.o.r.e the credit of many a satirical whim, which he, poor fellow, could as easily have penned as to have written a Greek ode. These squibs are sometimes very humorous, and are purposely written in doggrel verse to escape detection by the masters, who are not unfrequently the princ.i.p.al porsons alluded to.

4 The following laughable production was sold by poor Herbert Stockh.o.r.e during the last Montem: we hardly think we need apologise for introducing this specimen of his muse: any account of Eton characteristics must have been held deficient without it.

THE MONTEM ODE. May 20, 1823.

Muses attend! the British channel flock o'er, Call'd by your most obedient servant, Stockh.o.r.e.

Aid me, O, aid me, while I touch the string; Montem and Captain Barnard's praise I sing; Captain Barnard, the youth so n.o.ble and bright, That none dare dispute his worthy right To that gay laurel which his brother wore, In times that 1 remember long before.

What are Olympic honours compared to thine, 0 Captain, when Majesty does combine With heroes, their wives, sons and daughters great, To visit this extremely splendid fete.

Enough! I feel a sudden inspiration fill My bowels; just as if the tolling bell Had sent forth sounds a floating all along the air Just such Parna.s.sian sounds, though deaf, I'm sure I hear.