Part 2
The Prince was _suave_, and comely, and brave, And freely scattered his money about; "Tipped" every one he met like fun, And so he was very soon "cleared out."
Then he turned to Jack, and cried "Good lack! I wonder how we 're to purchase 'grub?'"
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Said Jack so free, "Leave that to me, Your Royal Highness's faithful 'sub.'" Now night came on, and Arthur's son Asked "Where the dickens are we to lodge?" "Sir," answered Jack, "your brain do n't rack, You may trust to me for a crafty 'dodge:' A Giant high lives here hard by; The monster I've the pleasure to know: Three heads he's got, and would send to pot Five hundred men!" The Prince said, "Oh!" "My lord," Jack said, "I 'll pledge my head To manage the matter completely right. In the Giant's nest to-night we 'll rest, As sure as a gun, or--_blow me tight!_"
Off scampers Jack, the Prince aback With his palfrey waits beneath a rock; At the castle-gate, at a footman's rate, Jack hammers and raps with a stylish knock.
II.
Rat-tat-tat-tat, tat-tat,-- "Rather impudent that," Said Jack to himself; "but _I_ do n't care!" The Giant within, Alarmed at the din, Roared out like thunder, "I say, who's there!"
"Only me," whispered Jack. Cried the Giant, "Who's _me?_" Pitching his voice in a treble key. "Your poor cousin Jack," said the hero. "Eh!" Said the Giant, "what news, cousin Jack, to-day?"
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"Bad," answered Jack, "as bad can be." "Pooh!" responded the Giant; "fiddle-de-dee! I wonder what news can be bad to me! What! an't I a Giant whose heads are three, And can't I lick five hundred men? Do n't talk to me of bad tidings, then!"
III.
"Alas!" Jack whimpered, "uncle dear, The Prince of Wales is coming here, Yourself to kill, and your castle to sack,-- Two thousand knights are at his back.
If I tell you a lie never credit me more." The Giant replied, "What a deuce of a bore! But I 'll hide in my cellar, And, like a good 'feller,' You'll lock it and bolt it, and bar it secure."
Jack answered, "I will; Only keep yourself still." Said the Giant, "Of that, my boy, be sure."
IV.
While the stupid old Giant, locked up with the beer, Lies shivering and shaking in bodily fear, Young Jack and young Arthur - Enjoy themselves--rather, Blowing out their two skins with the best of good cheer. Their banquet o'er, to roost they creep, And in the dreamy world of sleep Eat all their supper o'er again.
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Such blissful fancies haunt the brain Of Aldermen of London Town, When, after feed on Lord Mayor's day, Their portly bulk supine they lay On couch of eider-down.
V.
The morning comes; the small birds sing; The sun shines out like--anything; Jack speeds the son of Britain's King, The heavier by full many a wing And leg of pullet, on his way, And many a slice of ham and tongue, Whereon the heroes, bold and young, As by good right, I should have sung, Did breakfast on that day.
And then he seeks the Giant's cell, Forgetting not to cram him well, How he had plied the foe with prog, Disarmed his wrath by dint of grog, And, at the head of all his men, Had sent him reeling home again.
The Giant was pleased as Punch might be, And he capered about with clumsy glee (It was a comical sight to see),--
Very like unto a whale When he founders a skiff with his frolicksome tail.
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Then he cocked his big eye with a playful wink, And roared out, "What 'll you take to drink?" "Well," Jack replied, "I 'll tell you what, I think I should n't mind a pot; But, nunky,--could you be so kind?- I wish I had those traps behind The nest wherein you take your nap:- That seedy coat and tattered cap; That ancient sword, of blade right rusty; And those old high-lows all so dusty, That look as though for years they'd been In pop-shop hung, or store marine; No other meed I ask than those, So _may_ I have the sword and clothes? " "Jack," said the Giant, "yes, you may, And let them be a keepsake, pray; They 're queer, and would n't suit a 'gent;' But what to use is ornament? The sword will cut through hardest stuff, The cap will make you up to snuff,-- Worth something more than 'eight and six,'-- The shoes will carry you like 'bricks,' At pace outspeeding swiftest stalkers- (They were a certain Mr. Walker's); The coat excels art's best results, Burckhardt outvies, out-Stultzes Stultz; No mortal man, whate'er his note, Was ever seen in such a coat; For when you put it on your shoulders You vanish, straight, from all beholders!" "Well, hang it! surely you, old chap, Had not got on your knowing cap When you proposed last night to hide, Or _you_ the magic coat had tried: You might have strapped it on your back So thought, but said not, cunning Jack, Thanked his three-headed relative, And toddled, whistling "Jack's Alive."
VI.
His cap of wit, the Giant's gift, Informed him where the Prince to find; And he has donned his "Walker's" swift, And, leaving chough and crow behind, His Royal Highness soon has joined. "Jack," said the Prince, for fun agog, "Get up behind, you jolly dog!"
So up he jumps, and on they jog. They soon have gained the secret bower, Where, spell-bound by the warlock's power, Was kept in "quod" that lady bright: She was remarkably polite, Displayed before them such a spread! Oh! gracious goodness, how they fed!
No lack of turtle-soup was there, Of flesh, and fowl, and fish, Of choicest dainties, rich and rare; Turbot and lobster-sauce, and hare; And turtle, plenty, and to spare; And sweets enough to make you stare, And every sort of dish.
And there were floods of Malvoisie, Champagne, and Hock, and Burgundy, Sauterne, and Rhein-wine, and Moselle;- It was a bouquet, sooth, to smell; And there was Port and Sherry;--well; And more liqueurs than I can tell.
VII.
When the banquet was ended the lady arose, And her cherry lips wiped, and her lily white nose; And she gazed on the gallant young Prince with a sigh, And a smile on her cheek, and a drop in her eye.
"My lord," she addressed him, "I beg you 'll excuse What I'm going to say, for alas! I can't choose; You must guess who this handkerchief pockets to-night To-morrow, or die if you don't guess aright!"
She poured out a bumper, and drank it up half, And gave the bold Prince the remainder to quaff; Wherewith through the "back-flat" her exit she made, And left the young gentleman rather afraid.
VIII.
When the Prince retired to bed, He scratched, and thus bespoke his head:-
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"Where, oh! where, my upper story, Wilt thou be to-morrow night? Into what a mess, for glory, Rushes bold and amorous wight!"
Jack dons, meanwhile, His "knowing tile,"-- How ripe he looked for a regular "lark;" He asks about, And soon finds out, That the lady was forced to go out in the dark Every night, By the pale moon light, To give the magician, fierce and fell, All so late, A _tête-à-tête_, In the gloomy depth of a forest dell.
In his coat and his shoes at mail-train pace, He hies him to the trysting place.
He travels so fast that he does n't get there Too late, as the saying is, for the fair; But he has to wait before she comes, Cooling his heels and biting his thumbs.
IX.
At length appears the warlock, dight In dressing gown of gramarye; And, like a spirit of the night, Elegantly dressed in white, Approaches now the fair ladye, And gives him the handkerchief, you see;
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"Now!" 'cried courageous Jack, "or never! Die, catiff, die! " (And he lets fly) "Thus from its trunk thy head I sever."
X.
To be a conjuror, 'tis said, In sooth a man requires a head; So Jack, by this decapitation, Dissolved, of course, the conjuration.
The damsel fair, bewitched no more, Becomes bewitching as before; Restored to virtue's blooming grace, Which so improves the female face-- A kalydor of high perfection, That beautifies the worst complexion.
XI.
The licence was bought, and, the bells ringing gay, The prince and the lady were married next day, All decked out so smart in their bridal array.
The happy pair, the nuptials o'er, Start in a handsome coach-and-four For good King Arthur's court; Jack, on the box in easy pride, Sits by the portly coachman's side-- Oh, my! what bows they sport.
The train behind that followed--oh! It far outshone the Lord Mayor's show;
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And e'en the grand display When, to our Prince to give a name, His Majesty of Prussia came To England t' other day.
XII.
Now Arthur's seat they reach: not that Where royal Arthur never sat-- Dun Edin's famous mound.
Loud shouts of joy the welkin crack, And Arthur dubs our hero Jack, Knight of the Table Round.
And now, in Pleasure's syren lap, Sir Jack indulges in a nap- I crave his grace--Sir John!
Flirts with the fairest dames at court, And drinks, noblest lords, the port-- This comes of "getting on."
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JACK SETTLES THE REMAINING GIANTS AND SETTLES DOWN
I.
"Tantara tara, tantara tara, tantara tara,--ra! Tara tara, tara, tara, tara, tantararan ta--ta!"
II.
Hark to the warlike trumpet blast, the clarion call of fame! Bounds not the hero's heart if he is worthy of the name?
What time the trump and kettle-drum at glorious Drury Lane, Call bold King Dick to bide the brunt of Bosworth's battle plain; So, to the soul of stout Sir Jack, Adventure's summon spoke, And from her dream of luxury his martial spirit woke. Before King Arthur's royal throne he knelt upon his knee, And thus with courtly speech addressed his gracious Majesty:--
III.
"Illustrious Arthur, King of Trumps, My duty bids me stir my stumps; Fell Giants yet, your country's pest, Your faithful liegemen much molest; 'T is my intention, if you will, Their uncouth _highnesses_ to kill.
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I crave some loose cash and a cob, And trust me, sire, I 'll do the job, As sure as fate, for every snob."
"Why," said the King, "your plan's romantic And yet't is true those rogues gigantic Have wrought my subjects much annoy:-- Well; go and prosper, Jack, my boy; I hope and trust you 'll put them down; So here's a horse, and--half-a-crown.
IV.
With cap and brand,-- You understand Well what their virtues were,- And shoes so swift, His uncle's gift, Jack canters off like air: Like air as fleet, and as viewless too, Intent on doing "deeds of do."
"Over hill and over mountain, Thorough forest and by fountain," Jack flies by day, Gallant and gay.
Jack flies by day, though none can spy him-- Learn every one Bored by a dun, And take a lesson, debtors, by him-- Jack flies by night, In the moonlight, No "four-year-old" could have come nigh him.
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At length he came to a forest vast, Through which his journey led; When shrieks arose upon the blast,-- "Hallo," said Jack, "who's dead? "
Like a fern owl he flits through the forest trees, And, as he expected, a Giant he sees, Dragging a couple along by the hair-- They were a knight and a lady fair, And theirs was the row that rent the air.
The heart of Jack, No way slack, Was melted by their tears and cries; Benevolent lad! So he jumps off his prad, And unto an oak the animal ties: So Hampshire Squire, when, at the din, Of hare entrapped in poacher's gin, His gentle pity melts; Dismounts him from his gallant steed, Murmuring, "A purty joak, indeed!" And to the rescue pelts.
V.
Jack approached the Giant nigh, But the monster was so deucedly high, He could n't reach to his philabeg; But he cut him a little about the leg. The Giant, swearing, roared, "This is A twinge of that beastly 'rheumatis.'
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I 'll take a dose of 'Blair' to-night; If I don't, I'm ------!" Said Sir Jack, "You 're right!" And he fetched him a blow with all his might; The ham-strings gave, the monster fell.
Did n't he screech, and did n't he yell! Did n't the trees around him shake! Did n't the earth to the centre quake! Jack lent him a kick on his loggerhead, And trod on his brawny neck, and said- "Oh, barbarous wretch! I'm Jack--Jack Ketch; I am come for thy crimes to serve thee out; Take this, and this, Iss! iss! iss! iss!" And he riddled the heart of the prostrate lout-- Dear me! how the blood did spout!
VI.
The lady fair, and the gentle knight, Scarcely could believe their sight, When they beheld the Giant "kick;" Unseen the hand that struck the blow, And one cried "Ha!" the other "O--h!" Both making sure it was old Nick.
But joy illumes their wondering mien, When, doffing his coat of "invisible green," Sir Jack appears before their eyes. "Thanks!" cried the knight, "thou valour's pink!" "Well!" said the lady, "only think!
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Oh! thank you, saviour of our life!" "Come home, sir, with myself and wife:-- After such work," the knight pursued-- "A little ale--" "You 'll think me rude," Said Jack, "but know, oh worthy peer! I thirst for glory--not for beer.
I must rout out this monster's den, Nor can I be at ease till then."
"Don't," begged the knight, "now don't, sir, pray, Nor run another risk to-day; Yon mount o'erhangs the monster's lair, And his big brother waits him there, A brute more savage than himself; Then lay your courage on the shelf."
"No!" Sir Jack answered, "if I do, May I be hanged! Now, mark me, you! Were there twice ten in yonder hole, Ere sinks behind yon crag the sun, The gory head of every one Before my feet should roll!
Farewell--I 'll call as I come back." "Adieu," the knight replied; "Alack! I had forgotten; here's my card." "Thank you," said Jack, and "bolted hard."
VII.
Away, away, to the mountain cave, Rides Jack at a spanking trot; No Knight of the Poll-axe, all so brave, Could have distanced him I wot!
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The Gorgon's head you ne'er have seen-- Nor would it much avail, To marble ears, Ï rather ween, The bard to sing his tale.
But oft the Saracen's, I know, Hath horrified your sight On London's famous Hill of Snow, Which is n't often white.
Such was the visage, but four times its size, With a trunk to match, that our champion spies.
By the mouth of the cave on a chopping-block sitting, Grinding his teeth and his shaggy brows knitting, Was the Giant;--and rolling his terrible eyes Like portentous meteors, they Glimmered, glowed, and flashed away;
His cheeks and nose were fiery too; Like wire on his chin the bristles grew; And his tangled locks hung down his back, Like the legs of a Brobdignag spider so black; Ready, the thickest skull to crack That ever county member wore, His iron club beside him lay.
He was in a terrible way, For he voted his brother's not coming a bore.
VIII.
The hero, Jack, dismounts to dress-- What was his toilet you may guess;
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So may I be ever dight When I bow me for the fight.
IX.
Like a cliff o'er ocean lowering, Or some old and cross curmudgeon Waiting, dinnerless, in dudgeon, Sits the Giant glumly glowering.
Hears he not a whisper say, "So there you are, old rascal, eh? " Hears he not a step approaching, Though he may n't the comer see? No; like rogue by streamlet poaching, Creeps Jack near him stealthily.
X.
As when some school-boy--idle thief-- With double-knotted handkerchief, What time his comrade stooping low, With tightened skin invites the blow; With sundry feints, delays to smite, And baulks, to linger out delight; So Jack, with thorough-going blade, Stood aiming at the Giant's head.
At last the champion cried, "Here goes Struck, and cut off the monster's--nose. Like a thousand bulls all roaring mad, Was the furious Giant's shout,
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With the iron club, which I said he had, Oh! how he laid about! "Oho! if that's your way, old cock, We must finish the game," quoth Jack; So he vaulted upon the chopping-block, And ran him through the back.
The Giant howled; the rocks around Thrilled with his demon squall, Then flat he fell upon the ground, As the Monument might fall.
XI.
The Giants slain, the Cornish man Despatched their gory heads by van To great King Arthur;--gifts more queer Have ne'er been sent to our Sovereign dear. She gets gigantic cheeses, cakes, Which loyal-hearted subject makes; Gigantic peaches, melons, pumpkins, Presented by her faithful bumpkins; And giant heads of brocoli--not The heads of Giants sent to pot-- Long may such heads, and such alone, Be laid before her stainless throne!
XII.
Now Jack the darksome den explores, And through its turns and windings pores, 'Till to a spacious hall he comes, Where, o'er the hearth, a cauldron hums, Much like a knacker's in the slums;
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Hard by, a squalid table stood, All foul with fat, and brains, and blood; The two great Ogres' carrion food.
Through iron grate, the board beside, Pale captive wretches he descried; Who, when they saw the hero, cried, "Alas! here comes another, booked, Like us, poor pris'ners, to be cooked."
"Thank you," said Jack; "the Giants twain Have _had_ their bellyful of me; To prove I do not boast in vain, Behold, my bucks of brass, you 're free!" And he brast the bars right speedily.
To meat they went, and, supper done, To the treasury they hied each one And filled their pockets full of money. What Giants could want with silver and gold, In sooth tradition hath not told:-- 'T is a question rather funny.
XIII.
The very next day The rest went away, To their dear little wives and their daughters, But Jack to the knight's Repairs with delights To recruit himself after his slaughters.
The lady fair and the gentle knight Were glad to see Sir Jack "all right;"
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Resolved to "do the handsome thing," They decked his finger with a ring Of gold that with the diamond shone-- This motto was engraved thereon:--
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XIV.
The feast is spread in the knightly hall, And the guests are uproarious, one and all, Drinking success to the hero stout Who larruped the Giants out-and-out; When, lo! all their mirth was changed to gloom, For a herald, all whey-faced, rushed into the room.
Oh, the horrified wight! What a terrible sight! He spoke--five hundred jaws were still; Eyes, twice five hundred, staring wide-- "Mac Thundel's coming, bent to kill You, valiant champion--hide, sir, hide!"
The cry of the crowd without they hear, "Mac Thundel is coming, oh dear! oh dear!" "And who the deuce is this Mac Thundel, That I," Sir Jack replied, "should bundle?"
"Mac Thundel, Sir Knight, is a two-headed beggar, You have slain his two kinsmen, the Giants Mac Gregor: That he 'll kill you and eat you he swears, or 'de'il tak' him,'" "Ha, ha, ha!" laughed bold Jack, "let him come--I shall whack him."
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"Gentles and ladies, pray walk below To the castle yard with me; You don't object to sport I know, And rare sport you shall see."
"Success to gallant Jack!" they shout, And follow, straight, the champion stout. The knight's retainers he summons, all hands, And thus with hasty speech commands:-
"Ho! merrymen, all, to the castle moat, Cut the drawbridge well nigh through; While I put on this elegant coat The knaves his bidding do.
The form of the hero dissolves in air, And the ladies exclaim and the gentlemen stare.
XV.
Stumping, thumping, blundering, lo! Comes the Giant Scot in sight; All the people screaming "Oh!" Fly before him in affright.
Look, he snorts and sniffs, as though His nose had ken'd an unseen foe; And hearken what he thunders forth, In gutteral accent of the north!
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XVI.
"Indeed!" replied the Giant Killer; "Old fellow, you 're a monstrous miller!" Disclosing his form to Mac Thundel's sight, Who foamed at the mouth with fury outright.
"Are ye the traitor loon," he cried, "By wham my twa bauld brithers died? Then 'a will tear thee wi' my fangs, And quaff thy bluid to quit thy wrangs!" "You must catch me first, old stupid ass!" Said Jack--he quoted Mrs. Glass; And he scampers away in his nimble shoes: Like a walking Ben Lomond, Mac Thundel pursues.
In and out, Round about, Jack dodges the Giant apace, Round the castle wall, That the guests may all Enjoy the stirring chase.
O'er the drawbridge he courses, mid shouts of laughter Mac Thundel heavily flounders after, Whirling his mace around his head:-- The drawbridge groans beneath his tread-- It creaks--it crashes--he tumbles in, Very nearly up to his chin, Amid the assembled company's jeers, Who hail his fall with "ironical cheers."
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He roars, rolls, splashes, and behaves Much like some monster of the waves, When "sleeping on the Norway foam," The barbéd harpoon strikes him home.
By the side of the moat Jack, standing safe, Begins the Giant thus to chafe;-- "Just now, old chap, I thought you said You'd grind my bones to make your bread."