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قراءة كتاب The Military Adventures of Johnny Newcome With an Account of his Campaign on the Peninsula and in Pall Mall
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اللغة: English
The Military Adventures of Johnny Newcome With an Account of his Campaign on the Peninsula and in Pall Mall
الصفحة رقم: 3
relish’d not these hasty ways,
He bolted off to Hilsea in a chaise;
And then a Note was handed to our Spark,
‘That without loss of time he should embark.’
‘Upon my soul,’ says John, ‘this is no jest,
‘They won’t allow a man a little rest.’
Boxes and trunks were cramm’d into a Boat,
And Johnny Newcome found himself afloat.
John star’d with wonder when he got on Board,
To see himself surrounded by the Flood.
The rapid movements so confused his head,
He knew not what he did, nor what he said;
Had not his appetite, which never fail’d him,
With certain griping, knawing hints assail’d him:
For John to certain forms was true, and steady,
So eager ask’d when dinner would be ready?
‘Dinner2 I’ll warrant,’ says a churlish Elf,
‘If you want dinner, pray provide yourself;
‘You’ll get no dinner here, ’tis not the fashion,
‘We only find you Cabin, Berth, and Ration!’
‘Damme,’ says John, ‘is this your Transport way?
‘What starve a body?—rot me if I stay!’
John’s resolution now began to shake;
Did he for this his happy home forsake?
A brother Sub seeing Johnny so distrest,
Said, ‘Come, Sir, let us council for the best;
‘Money you have no doubt, and as ’tis fine
‘Let us together go on shore to dine—
‘Buy what we want, and send it to the Ship,
‘Nor ask a favour of this Savage Rip.’
John liked the offer—shook him by the hand—
Jump’d in the Boat, and off they made for Land;
Din’d, drank their Bottle, and in merry glee
Purchas’d their Stock, and went next day to Sea.
But now friend John, when tossing on the Ocean,
Felt his poor bowels in a strange commotion;
Grew serious, then grew sick, and hung his head,
Reach’d, grunted, groan’d, and stagger’d to his bed;
A prey to sorrow, sickness, and dejection,
Restless he lay, imbitter’d with reflection—
Curs’d his own folly—had he but his will,
He’d sooner retail figs on Ludgate Hill.
Poor John thus lay, till by propitious blast,
The ready Anchor’s in the Tagus cast.
Now motionless the Ship, the sickness flew,
His wondering eyes successive objects drew.
Saw the proud Tagus in smooth torrent Flow,
Greeting fair Lisbon, with its breast of Snow;
Saw Churches, Convents, o’er each other rise,
With stern devotion tow’ring to the Skies.
Our youthful Hero now we introduce,
Deck’d off in Uniform, and fiercely spruce,
With Hat of Wellington, stuck fore, and aft,
And crimson sash tied carelessly abaft.
Black Stock, Reg’mental Sword, and natty Spurs—
Without the latter there’s no Hero stirs.
Spurs3 to a gallant youth are things of course,
To make folks fancy he has got a Horse;
But as in this, opinions may divide,
Yet all must think the gallant Youth can ride;
Thus gay equipt, his bosom proudly swelling,
Seeks the Town-Major’s Office, or his Dwelling.
Now see him strutting through the sultry Streets,
Staring with all his eyes, at all he meets;
Bald-headed Friars, Ladies, hid in Veils,
Postboys with huge cock’d Hats, and monstrous Tails.
John thought they seem’d a motley group of quizzes,
With lankey jaws, black brows, and dingy phizzes.
Now reach’d the Office, in he boldly bounc’d,
And with erected front himself announc’d;
When a Staff-Officer, with a stately look,
A sort of frowning survey of him took:
‘Pray who are you?’ was pompously demanded:
‘I’m Ensign Newcome, and from England landed.’4
‘To Belem go, where orders you’ll receive;
‘Write down your Name, Sir, and then Lisbon leave.’
John bolted out, saying ‘Damme what a Beast,
‘I reckon he’s a General at least:
‘O rot this Soldier’s life, the Devil’s in it,
‘They will not let a body rest a minute;
‘I’m fairly sick of it, and so I’ll tell ’em.
‘I say, my friend, is this the way to Belem?’
‘Senhor,’ with shoulders shrugged, ‘no, no, intende.’5
‘No, in ten day! if I go there,’ says John, ‘the Devil mend me.’
A British Soldier, who was near at hand
Said, ‘Sir, our Lingo he don’t understand:
‘’Tis but three Miles, strait forward if you please,
‘There’s no use axing them there Portuguese.’
John travell’d on—but soon he slack’d his pace,
The scorching Sun came full upon his face.
‘O d——n their Climate, here’s a pretty rig,—
‘Curse me if I’m not sweating like a Pig.
‘Could I but once get home, they soon should see,
‘The Devil might have all Portugal for me.’
Grumbling and Mopping, John at length contrives,
And at the Belem Barracks6 he arrives.
But Johnny’s spirit now