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What’s the matter, Jack? Lost your head, poor wight!
I always told you the block wasn’t screwed on too tight.
Tumbled? Is that it? It’s a mercy you lit on your head.
Nothing brittle in that;–if you’d come on your feet instead–
Broke it? No, never! You have? I knew it was slightly cracked:
Never mind that there was nought to come out–that’s a comforting
fact!
What! two of you? Who is the other? Not Jill, I declare!
Is her head cracked too? On my word, you’re a pair.
Have I seen a pail lying about? Why, no, I have not.
Pails don’t grow wild on this hill–that is, that I wot.
Oh, you dropped it, you did? Oh, I see, ’twas your pail,
And it tumbled you both o’er the rock? That’s your tale.
It may turn up somewhere, perhaps. So you fell
Off the edge of the path that leads up to the well?
Well, all’s well that ends well, at least so ’tis said;
But next time you’d better stay down, and try to fall uphill instead.

Some of us at the time thought highly of this performance. I remember one fellow saying that Number 2 seemed to have caught the spirit of Mr Browning without his vagueness, which was a very great compliment.

Number 3’s poetry ran chiefly in dramatic lines. He therefore boldly threw the narrative into dialogue form:–

Shepherdess.–Alas, my Jack is dead!

Shepherd.–I mourn for lovely Jill.

Both.–A common fate o’ertook them on the hill.

Shepherdess.–I watched them go–him and the hateful minx.

Shepherd.–I smiled to mark his footsteps on the brinks.

Both.–Cruel deceiver he/she! shameless intriguer she/he!

Shepherdess.–‘Twas she who lured him o’er the cruel ledge.

Shepherd.–‘Twas he who basely dragged her to the edge.

Both.–Oh! faithless he/she! oh! monstrous traitor she/he!

Shepherdess.–Her fate no tongue shall mourn, no eye shall weep; Shepherd.–His doom was all deserved upon the steep.

Both.–Oh! hapless he/she! oh! wicked wicked she/he!

Shepherdess.–Take warning, Shepherd; trust no faithless Jill.

Shepherd.–Nor you, fair nymph, with Jack e’er climb a hill.

Both.–Oh, woe is me! and woe, oh woe is thee!

Shepherdess.–With thee, poor youth, I fain would shed a tear.

Shepherd.–Maiden, with thee I’d sit and weep a year.

Both.–Wouldst thou but smile, I too would dry mine eye; Nay, let’s do both, and laugh here till we cry.

Number 4 was a specimen of the simple ditty style which leaves nothing unexplained, and never goes out of its course for the sake of a well- turned phrase.

When Jack was twelve and Jill was ten
Their mother said, “My dear children,
I want you both to take the pail
We bought last week from Mr Gale,
And fill it full of water clear,
And don’t be long away, do you hear?”
Then Master Jack and Sister Jill
Raced gaily up the Primrose Hill,
And filled the pail up to the top,
And tried not spill a single drop.
But sad to tell, just half way down
Jack tripped upon a hidden stone,
And tumbled down and cut his head
So badly that it nearly bled.
And Jill was so alarmed that she.
Let drop the pail immediately
And fell down too, and sprained her hand,
And had to go to Dr Bland
And get it looked to; while poor Jack
Was put to bed upon his back.

Number 4 regarded his performance with a certain amount of pride. He said it was after the manner of Wordsworth, and was a protest against the inflated style of most modern poetry, which seemed to have for its sole object to conceal its meaning from the reader. We had a good specimen of this kind of writing from Number 5, who wrote in blank verse, as he said, “after the German.”