My beautiful! my beautiful!

'Arab's Farewell to his Horse'

Transcription

Arab's Farewell to his Horse.

PRICE ONE PENNY.

Copies of this popular production can always be had in

the Poet's box

My beautiful! my beautiful! that standest meekly by,

With thy proudly arch'd and glossy neck, and dark and fiery

eye,

Fret not to roam the desert now with all thy winged speed,

I may not mount on thee again-thou art sold, my Arab

steed.

Fret not with that impatient hoof, snuff not the breezy wind,

The further that thou fliest now, so far am I behind.

The stranger hath thy bridle rein-thy master hath his gold-

Fleet limbed and beautiful, farewell, thou'rt sold, my steed,

thou'rt sold.

Farewell, these free untired limbs full many a mile must

roam,

To reach the chill and wintry sky which clouds the stran-

ger's home.

Some other hand, less fond, must now thy corn and bed

prepare-

The silky mane I braided once must be another's care.

The morning sun shall dawn again, but never more with thee

Shall I gallop through the desert paths where we were wont

to be.

Evening shall darken on the earth, and o'er the sandy plain,

Some other steed, with slower step, shall bear me home

again.

Yes, thou must go, the wild free breeze, the brilliant sun

and sky,

Thy master's home, from all of these my exiled one must fly.

Thy proud dark eye will grow less proud, thy step become

less fleet,

And vainly shalt thou arch thy neck thy master's hand to

meet.

Only in sleep shall I behold that dark eye glancing bright;

Only in sleep shall hear again that step so firm and light;

And when I raise my dreaming arm to check and cheer thy

speed,

Then must I startling wake to feel thou'rt sold, my Arab

steed.

Ah! rudely then, unseen by me, some cruel hand may chide,

Till foam-wreathes lie, like crested waves, along thy panting

side,

And the rich blood that is in thee swells in thy indignant

pain,

Till careless eyes, which rest on thee, may count each started

vein.

Will they ill-use thee? If I thought-but no it cannot be-

Thou art so swift yet easy curbed, so gentle yet so free.

And yet, if haply when thou'rt gone, my lonely heart should

yearn,

Can the hand which casts thee from it now command thee

to return?

Return, alas! my Arab steed, what shall thy master do,

When thou who wert his all of joy hath vanished from his

view;

When the dim distance cheats mine eye, and, through the

gathering tears,

Thy bright form for a moment like the false mirage appears,

Slow and unmounted will I roam, with weary foot alone,

Where with fleet step and joyous bound thou oft has borne

me on.

And sitting down by that green well I'll pause and sadly

think,

It was here he bowed his glossy neck when last I saw him

drink.

When last I saw thee drink? Away! the fevered dream is

o'er,

I could not live a day and know that we should meet no

more.

They tempted me, my beautiful! for hunger' s power is strong,

They tempted me, my beautiful! but I have loved too long.

Who said that I'd giv'n thee up, who said that thou wert

sold?

'Tis false, 'tis false, my Arab steed, I fling them back their

gold;

Thus, thus, I leap upon thy back and scour the distant plains,

Away! who overtakes us now shall claim thee for his pains!

Commentary This ballad begins: 'My beautiful! my beautiful! that standest meekly by, / With thy proudly arch'd and glossy neck, and dark and fiery eye'. This broadside was priced at one penny and published on Saturday, 5th June 1869. It was published by the Poet's Box, (probably Glasgow) but the town of publication has been obscured. Although it is not attributed on the broadside, this poem was written by Caroline Norton (1808-77). Norton was the granddaughter of playwright Richard Brinsley Sheridan (1751-1816). Her first published poetry appeared in 1829 and as a result she became a successful magazine editor. She found further fame as a political poet and pamphleteer, but also a certain amount of notoriety when it was alleged that she had been having an affair with the Whig Home Secretary Lord Melbourne. The claims were made by Norton's husband, a Tory who was known to be violent toward her. Norton's unhappy marriage influenced her political activism, which contributed to the Marriage and Law Act of 1857. The Poet?s Box in Glasgow operated from 1849 to 1911. Matthew Leitch was the proprietor at 6 St. Andrew Lane?s, a narrow street on the south side of Gallowgate, from 1850 to 1858. His son William Munsie Leitch worked at the same address from 1859 to 1865 and at varous addresses in London Street until 1911. Many of the broadsides published by the Glasgow Poet?s Box were dated and some carried advertisements, not just for printed items but also for shoe blacking and ?soap for lovers?! Like the other ?boxes? in Dundee and Edinburgh, the Glasgow one sold love songs, sea shanties, parodies and dialogues. It is not clear what the connection between the different Poet?s Boxes were. They almost certainly sold each other?s sheets. It is known that John Sanderson in Edinburgh often wrote to the Leitches in Glasgow for songs and that later his brother Charles obtained copies of songs from the Dundee Poet?s Box. There was also a Poet?s Box in Belfast from 1846 to 1856 at the address of the printer James Moore, and one in Paisley in the early 1850s owned by William Anderson. Broadsides are single sheets of paper, printed on one side, to be read unfolded. They carried public information such as proclamations as well as ballads and news of the day. Cheaply available, they were sold on the streets by pedlars and chapmen. Broadsides offer a valuable insight into many aspects of the society they were published in, and the National Library of Scotland holds over 250,000 of them.

BLOGGER'S NOTE. I decided to leave these rather boring notes attached, because? I was so intrigued by? all the? question marks. I suppose they were meant to represent some? other kind of punctuation mark, but I can't quite? figure out which one. My favorite passage is:

Many of the broadsides published by the Glasgow Poet?s Box were dated and some carried advertisements, not just for printed items but also for shoe blacking and ?soap for lovers?! Like the other ?boxes? in Dundee and Edinburgh, the Glasgow one sold love songs, sea shanties, parodies and dialogues

"Soap for lovers?!". These people were obviously well ahead of their time.

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Robin and Terry: the two

All morning, still in mourning, still unable to figure it out, but I found this lovely photo of two of the greatest, craziest geniuses of our time. No doubt understood each other better because of it.

I cannot believe it, but no one on Facebook is saying anything about the fact that Robin Williams was coping with a Parkinson's diagnosis when he died. Already he was showing the wasting and masked face that come with it, indicating it may have been progressing very quickly. And oh, imagine a man like that imprisoned in his own body, unable to speak. Did he do this while he still could?

Some time later today, DUH, someone might say GEE, there's a thing on the news on Robin Williams! But by then I will have sunk pretty deep, and felt pretty much alone.

The Church of the Holy Sea-Monkey

So it turns out that the bizarre site called The Sea Monkey Worship Page is still up, but hasn't been updated since 2008. Hm. Six years or so. That's a long time for our Sea-Monks to go without sustenance. I was able to enlarge and enhance the tiny little ugly banner, which now doesn't look too bad, and am thinking of trying to use it on my FB page, but we'll see.

There truly are people obsessed with Sea-Monkeys. The creatures themselves are so inexplicably hideous that the whole thing baffles me a bit. Those TV ads were jaw-dropping. OK, they're just little wiggly brine shrimp with no more feeling or intelligence than an amoeba. But does that mean it's OK to force them to swim against currents in these grotesque plastic tracks, supposedly representing fox hunts and cycling races?Yet people must have bought these things. They still do.

The product was initially called Instant Life, a more accurate label because these little wigglers emerge from a packet of dessicated eggs. It's not so miraculous to see this happen, many species can go dormant in the egg phase for a very long time. At first they look sort of like baby guppies, not so bad, until all those furry-looking legs start swarming around, and that brown stuff inside them - God, is it shit, or eggs, or WHAT?

This business about training them, I honestly don't know. If you force them to swim along a track or down a pipe, is that "training" or mere survival? What choice do they have? This is Sea-Monkey enslavement and should be cause for a visit from the Sea-Monkey Police.

(You thought you'd get away without gifs? Really? Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!!)

This guy looks like he has a severe case of Sea-Monkey acne. And is there really a site called www.sea-monkey.com? I'd better check it out.

For some reason the Sea-Monkey gang reminds me of nothing more than Archie, Betty, Veronica, Jughead and Moose.

Or is that Maynard G. Krebbs?

Showing those slimy little bastards in the background represents Truth in Advertising (I guess). But I think the kiddies are still being sincerely deluded.