File:Whims and oddities - in prose and verse (1836) (14743514436).jpg

Identifier: whimsodditiesinp00hoo (find matches)
Title: Whims and oddities : in prose and verse
Year: 1836 (1830s)
Authors: Hood, Thomas, 1799-1845
Subjects:
Publisher: London : C. Tilt
Contributing Library: The Library of Congress
Digitizing Sponsor: The Library of Congress

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ve no homes at all,Go battle for a long one.The mirror here confirmd me thisReflection, by a strong one. For there, where I was wont to shave,And deck me like Adonis,There stood the leader of our foes,With vultures for his cronies—No Corsican, but Death himself,The Bony of all Bonies. XIV. A horrid sight it was, and sadTo see the grisly chapPut on my crimson livery,And then begin to clapMy helmet on—ah me! it feltLike any felons cap. 376 THE VOLUNTEER. My plume seemd borrowd from a hearse, An undertakers crest; My epaulettes like coffin-plates; My belt so heavy pressd, Four pipeclay cross-roads seemd to lie At once upon my breast. My brazen breast-plate only lackd A little heap of salt, To make me like a corpse full dressd, Preparing for the vault— To set up what the Poet calls My everlasting halt. XVII. This funeral show inclind me quite To peace:—and here I am! Whilst better lions go to war, Enjoying with the lamb A lengthend life, that might have been A martial epigram. 377
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BRIDE AND BRIDESMAID. A MARRIAGE PROCESSION. It has never been my lot to marry—whatever I mayhave written of one Honoria to the contrary. My affairwith that lady never reached beyond a very embarrassingdeclaration, in return for which she breathed into my dulldeaf ear an inaudible answer. It was beyond my slenderassurance, in those days, to ask for a repetition, whetherof acceptance or denial. 378 A MARRIAGE PROCESSION. One chance for explanation still remained. I wrote toher mother, to bespeak her sanction to our union, and re-ceived, by return of post, a scrawl, that, for aught I knew,might be in Sanscrit. I question whether, even at this time,my intolerable bashfulness would suffer me to press such amatter any farther. My thoughts of matrimony are now confined to occa-sional day-dreams, originating in some stray glimpse inthe Prayer Book, or the receipt of bride-cake. It was onsome such occurrence that I fell once, Bunyan-like, intoan allegory of a wedding. My fancies took the or

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