Unto a giant's castle top, In which he let him fall; Where soon the giant swallowed up His body, clothes, and all.

But soon the giant spat him out, Three miles into the sea; Whereas a fish soon took him up, And bore him thence away.

Which l.u.s.ty fish was after caught, And to king Arthur sent; Where Tom was found, and made his dwarf, Whereas his days he spent.

Long time in lively jollity, Belov'd of all the court; And none like Tom was then esteem'd, Among the n.o.ble sort.

Amongst his deeds of courtship done, His highness did command, That he should dance a galliard brave Upon his queen's left hand.

The which he did, and for the same The king his signet gave, Which Tom about his middle wore, Long time a girdle brave.

How, after this, the king would not Abroad for pleasure go But still Tom Thumb must ride with him, Placed on his saddle-bow.

Whereon a time when, as it rain'd, Tom Thumb most nimbly crept In at a b.u.t.ton-hole, where he Within his bosom slept.

And being near his highness' heart, He crav'd a wealthy boon, A liberal gift, the which the king Commanded to be done.

For to relieve his father's wants, And mother's, being old; Which was, so much of silver coin As well his arms could hold.

And so away goes l.u.s.ty Tom, With threepence on his back, A heavy burthen, which might make His wearied limbs to crack.

So travelling two days and nights, With labour and great pain, He came into the house whereat His parents did remain;

Which was but half a mile in s.p.a.ce From good king Arthur's court, The which, in eight and forty hours, He went in weary sort.

But coming to his father's door, He there such entrance had As made his parents both rejoice, And he thereat was glad.

His mother in her ap.r.o.n took Her gentle son in haste, And by the fire-side, within A walnut-sh.e.l.l him placed;

Whereas they feasted him three days Upon a hazel-nut, Whereon he rioted so long, He them to charges put;

And thereupon grew wond'rous sick, Through eating too much meat, Which was sufficient for a month For this great man to eat.

But now his business call'd him forth King Arthur's court to see, Whereas no longer from the same He could a stranger be.

But yet a few small April drops Which settled in the way, His long and weary journey forth Did hinder and so stay.

Until his careful father took A birding trunk in sport, And with one blast, blew this his son Into king Arthur's court.

Now he with tilts and tournaments Was entertained so, That all the best of Arthur's knights Did him much pleasure show:

As good Sir Lancelot du Lake, Sir Tristain, and Sir Guy; Yet none compar'd with brave Tom Thumb For knightly chivalry.

In honour of which n.o.ble day, And for his lady's sake, A challenge in king Arthur's court Tom Thumb did bravely make.

'Gainst whom these n.o.ble knights did run, Sir Chinon and the rest, Yet still Tom Thumb, with matchless might, Did bear away the best.

At last Sir Lancelot du Lake In manly sort came in, And with this stout and hardy knight A battle did begin.

Which made the courtiers all aghast, For there that valiant man, Through Lancelot's steed, before them all, In nimble manner ran.

Yea, horse and all, with spear and shield, As hardy he was seen, But only by king Arthur's self And his admired queen;

Who from her finger took a ring, Through which Tom Thumb made way, Not touching it, in nimble sort, As it was done in play.

He likewise cleft the smallest hair From his fair lady's head, Not hurting her whose even hand Him lasting honours bred.

Such were his deeds and n.o.ble acts In Arthur's court there shone, As like in all the world beside Was hardly seen or known.

Now at these sports he toil'd himself, That he a sickness took, Through which all manly exercise He carelessly forsook.

When lying on his bed sore sick, King Arthur's doctor came, With cunning skill, by physic's art, To ease and cure the same.

His body being so slender small, This cunning doctor took A fine perspective gla.s.s, with which He did in secret look--

Into his sickened body down, And therein saw that Death Stood ready in his wasted frame To cease his vital breath.

His arms and legs consum'd as small As was a spider's web, Through which his dying hour grew on, For all his limbs grew dead.

His face no bigger than an ant's, Which hardly could be seen; The loss of which renowned knight Much grieved the king and queen.

And so with peace and quietness He left this earth below; And up into the fairy-land His ghost did fading go,

Whereas the fairy-queen receiv'd, With heavy mourning cheer, The body of this valiant knight, Whom she esteem'd so dear.

For with her dancing nymphs in green, She fetch'd him from his bed, With music and sweet melody, So soon as life was fled;

For whom king Arthur and his knights Full forty days did mourn; And, in remembrance of his name, That was so strangely born--

He built a tomb of marble gray, And year by year did come To celebrate ye mournful death And burial of Tom Thumb.

Whose fame still lives in England here, Amongst the country sort; Of whom our wives and children small Tell tales of pleasant sport.

[Footnote *: "I have an old edition of this author by me, the t.i.tle of which is more sonorous and heroical than those of later date, which, for the better information of the reader, it may not be improper to insert in this place, 'Tom Thumb his Life and Death; wherein is declar'd his many marvellous Acts of Manhood, full of wonder and strange merriment.' Then he adds, 'Which little Knight liv'd in King Arthur's time, in the court of Great Britain.' Indeed, there are so many spurious editions of this piece upon one account or other, that I wou'd advise my readers to be very cautious in their choice."--_A Comment upon the History of T. T._ 1711. A "project for the reprinting of Tom Thumb, with marginal notes and cuts," is mentioned in the old play of _The Projectours_, 1665, p. 41.]

LXII.

[The following lines, slightly altered, occur in a little black-letter book by W. Wagner, printed about the year 1561; ent.i.tled, 'A very mery and pythie commedie, called, the longer thou livest, the more foole thou art.' See also a whole song, ending with these lines, in Ritson's 'North Country Chorister,' 8vo, Durham, 1802, p. 1.]

Bryan O'Lin, and his wife, and wife's mother, They all went over a bridge together: The bridge was broken, and they all fell in, The deuce go with all! quoth Bryan O'Lin.

LXIII.

Old Mother Goose, when She wanted to wander, Would ride through the air On a very fine gander.

Mother Goose had a house, 'Twas built in a wood, Where an owl at the door For sentinel stood.