69

HOLY THURSDAY

'TWAS on a Holy Thursday, their innocent faces clean, Came children walking two and two, in red and blue and

green,

Grey-headed beadles walked before, with wands as white

as snow,

Till into the high dome of Paul's they like Thames' waters flow.

O what a multitude they seemed, these flowers of London town!

Seated in companies they sit with radiance all their own. The hum of multitudes was there, but multitudes of lambs, Thousands of little boys and girls raising their innocent hands.

Now, like a mighty wind they raise to Heaven the voice of

song,

Or like harmonious thunderings the seats of Heaven among. Beneath them sit the agèd men, wise guardians of the poor; Then cherish pity, lest you drive an angel from your door. WILLIAM BLAKE

70

THE MAYORS

THIS city and this country has brought forth many mayors I To sit in state, and give forth laws out of their old oak chairs, With face as brown as any nut with drinking of strong aleGood English hospitality, O then it did not fail!

With scarlet gowns and broad gold lace, would make a

yeoman sweat;

With stockings rolled above their knees and shoes as black as jet;

With eating beef and drinking beer, O they were stout and

hale

Good English hospitality, O then it did not fail!

71

Thus sitting at the table wide the Mayor and Aldermen Were fit to give law to the city; each ate as much as ten: The hungry poor entered the hall to eat good beef and ale

Good English hospitality, O then it did not fail!

WILLIAM BLAKE

THE FINE OLD ENGLISH

GENTLEMAN

I'LL sing you a good old song,
Made by a good old pate,
Of a fine old English gentleman
Who had an old estate,

And who kept up his old mansion
At a bountiful old rate;
With a good old porter to relieve
The old poor at his gate,
Like a fine old English gentleman
All of the olden time.

His hall so old was hung around
With pikes and guns and bows,
And swords, and good old bucklers,

That had stood some tough old blows;
'Twas there his worship held his state
In doublet and trunk hose,

And quaffed his cup of good old sack,
To warm his good old nose,

Like a fine old English gentleman

All of the olden time.

When winter's cold brought frost and snow,

He opened house to all;

And though threescore and ten his years,

He featly led the ball;

Nor was the houseless wanderer

E'er driven from his hall;

For while he feasted all the great,

He ne'er forgot the small;
Like a fine old English gentleman

All of the olden time.

But time, though old, is strong in flight,
And years rolled swiftly by;
And Autumn's falling leaves proclaimed
This good old man must die!
He laid him down right tranquilly,
Gave up life's latest sigh;

And mournful stillness reigned around,
And tears bedewed each eye,
For this fine old English gentleman
All of the olden time.

Now surely this is better far
Than all the new parade
Of theatres and fancy balls,
"At home" and masquerade:
And much more economical,

For all his bills were paid.
Then leave your new vagaries quite,
An take up the old trade

Of a fine old English gentleman,

All of the olden time.

72

BRING US IN GOOD ALE

Bring us in good ale, and bring us in good ale;
For our blessed Lady sake bring us in good ale!

BRING us in no browne bred, for that is made of brane,1 Nor bring us in no white bred, for therein is no gane, But bring us in good ale!

Bring us in no

But bring us in

1 Bran

befe, or there is many bones,

good ale, for that goth downe at ones, And bring us in good ale!