THE ARGUMENT

 
            I sing the deeds of famous Jack,
                The doughty Giant Killer hight;
            How he did various monsters "whack,"
                And so became a gallant knight.
             In Arthur's days of splendid fun
                (His Queen was Guenever the Pliant), —
             Ere Britain's sorrows had begun;
                When every cave contained its giant;
             When griffins fierce as bats were rife;
                 And till a knight had slain his dragon,
              At trifling risk of limbs and life,
                He did n't think he'd much to brag on;
 
 
     When wizards o'er the welkin flew;
     Ere science had devised balloon;
     And 'twas a common thing to view
     A fairy ballet by the moon; —
     Our hero played his valiant pranks;
     Earned loads of kudos, vulgô glory,
     A lady, "tin," and lots of thanks; —
         Relate, oh Muse! his wondrous story.
 

OF GIANTS IN GENERAL

 
     A Giant was, I should premise,
     A hulking lout of monstrous size;
     He mostly stood – I know you 'll laugh —
     About as high as a giraffe.
 
 
     His waist was some three yards in girth:
     When he walked he shook the earth.
     His eyes were of the class called "goggle,"
     Fitter for the scowl than ogle.
 
 
     His mouth, decidedly carnivorous,
     Like a shark's, – the Saints deliver us!
     He yawned like a huge sarcophagus,
     For he was an Anthropophagus,
     And his tusks were huge and craggy;
     His hair, and his brows, and his beard, were shaggy.
 
 
     I ween on the whole he was aught but a Cupid,
     And exceedingly fierce, and remarkably stupid;
              His brain partaking strongly of lead,
              How well soe'er he was off for head;
              Having frequently one or two
              Crania more than I or you.
 
 
              He was bare of arm and leg,
              But buskins had, and a philabeg;
              Also a body-coat of mail
              That shone with steel or brazen scale,
              Like to the back of a crocodile's tail;
 
 
                        A crown he wore,
                        And a mace he bore
              That was knobbed and spiked with adamant;
                        It would smash the skull
                        Of the mountain bull,
              Or scatter the brains of the elephant.
 
 
         His voice than the tempest was louder and gruffer —
         Well; so much for the uncouth "buffer."
 

JACK'S BIRTH, PARENTAGE, EDUCATION, AND EARLY PURSUITS

 
               Of a right noble race was Jack,
               For kith and kin he did not lack,
                    Whom tuneful bards have puffed;
               The Seven bold Champions ranked among
               That highly celebrated throng,
                    And Riquet with the Tuft.
 
 
          Jack of the Beanstalk, too, was one;
          And Beauty's Beast; and Valour's son,
              Sir Amadis de Gaul:
          But if I had a thousand tongues,
          A throat of brass, and iron lungs,
              I could not sing them all.
 
 
     His sire was a farmer hearty and free;
     He dwelt where the Land's End frowns on the sea,
     And the sea at the Land's End roars again,
     Tit for tat, land and main.
 
 
     He was a worthy wight, and so
     He brought up his son in the way he should go;
     He sought not – not he! – to make him a "muff;"
     He never taught him a parcel of stuff;
 
 
     He bothered him not with trees and plants,
     Nor told him to study the manners of ants.
     He himself had never been
     Bored with the Saturday Magazine;
     The world might be flat, or round, or square,
     He knew not, and he did not care;
     Nor wished that a boy of his should be
     A Cornish "Infant Prodigy."
 
 
     But he stored his mind with learning stable,
     The deeds of the Knights of the famed Round Table;
     Legends and stories, chants and lays,
     Of witches and warlocks, goblins and fays;
             How champions of might
             Defended the right,
 
 
     Freed the captive, and succoured the damsel distrest
              Till Jack would exclaim —
     "If I don't do the same,
     An' I live to become a man, —I'm blest!"
 
 
     Jack lightly recked of sport or play
              Wherein young gentlemen delight,
     But he would wrestle any day,
     Box, or at backsword fight.
 
 
     He was a lad of special "pluck,"
     And strength beyond his years,
          Or science, gave him aye the luck
          To drub his young compeers.
 
 
     His task assigned, like Giles or Hodge,
     The woolly flocks to tend,
          His wits to warlike fray or "dodge"
          Wool-gathering oft would wend.
 
 
     And then he'd wink his sparkling eye,
     And nod his head right knowingly,
         And sometimes "Won't I just!" would cry,
         Or "At him, Bill, again!"
 
 
          Now this behaviour did evince
          A longing for a foe to mince;
          An instinct fitter for a Prince
          Than for a shepherd swain.
 

HOW JACK SLEW THE GIANT CORMORAN. —

I

 
          Where good Saint Michael's craggy mount
          Rose Venus-like from out the sea,
          A giant dwelt; a mighty- Count
          In his own view, forsooth, was he;
          And not unlike one, verily,
 
 
          (A foreign Count, like those we meet
          In Leicester Square, or Regent Street),
          I mean with respect to his style of hair,
          Mustachios, and beard, and ferocious air, —
          His figure was quite another affair.
 
 
         This odd-looking "bird"
         Was a Richard the Third,
         Four times taller and five as wide;
         Or a clumsy Punch,
         With his cudgel and hunch,
              Into a monster magnified!
 
 
     In quest of prey across the sea
     He'd wade, with ponderous club;
              For not the slightest "bones" made he
              Of "boning" people's "grub."
     There was screaming and crying "Oh dear!" and "Oh law
     When the terrified maids the monster saw;
 
 
                 As he stalked – tramp! tramp!
                 Stamp! stamp! stamp! stamp!
         Coming on like the statue in "Don Giovanni."
                 "Oh my!" they would cry,
                  "Here he comes; let us fly!
         Did you ever behold such a horrid old brawny? —
                 A – h!" and off they would run
                 Like "blazes," or "fun,"
         Followed, pell-mell, by man and master;
                 While the grisly old fellow
                 Would after them bellow,
         To make them scamper away the faster.
 

II

 
          When this mountain bugaboo
          Had filled his belly, what would he do?
          He'd shoulder his club with an ox or two,
          Stick pigs and sheep in his belt a few, —
     There were two or three in it, and two or three under
     (I hope ye have all the "organ of wonder");
     Then back again to his mountain cave
     He would stump o'er the dry land and stride through the wave.
 

III

 
                     What was to be done?
                     For this was no fun;
                 And it must be clear to every one,
          The new Tariff itself would assuredly not
          Have supplied much longer the monstrous pot
                 Of this beef-eating, bull-headed, "son-of-a-gun."
 

IV

 
     Upon a night as dark as pitch
     A light was dancing on the sea; —
     Marked it the track of the Water Witch?
     Could it a Jack-a-lantern be?
     A lantern it was, and borne by Jack;
     A spade and a pickaxe he had at his back;
     In his belt a good cow-horn;
     He was up to some game you may safely be sworn.
     Saint Michael's Mount he quickly gained,
     And there the livelong night remained.
 
 
                What he did
                The darkness hid;
     Nor needeth it that I should say:
     Nor would you have seen,
     If there you had been
     Looking on at the break of day.
 

V

 
     Morning dawned on the ocean blue;
     Shrieked the gull and the wild sea-mew;
     The donkey brayed, and the grey cock crew;
     Jack put to his mouth his good cow-horn,
     And a blast therewith did blow.
 
 
     The Giant heard the note of scorn,
     And woke and cried "Hallo!"
     He popped out his head with his night-cap on,
     To look who his friend might be,
     And eke his spectacles did don,
     That he mote the better see.
 
 
     "I'll broil thee for breakfast," he roared amain,
     "For breaking my repose."
     "Yaa!" valiant Jack returned again,
     With his fingers at his nose.
 

VI

 
     Forward the monster tramps apace,
     Like to an elephant running a race;
     Like a walking-stick he handles his mace.
     Away, too venturous wight, decamp!
     In two more strides your skull he smashes; —
     One! Gracious goodness! what a stamp!
     Two! Ha! the plain beneath him crashes:
     Down he goes, full fathoms three.
 
 
     "How feel ye now," cried Jack, "old chap?
     It is plain, I wot, to see
     You 're by no means up to trap."
     The Giant answered with such a roar,
     It was like the Atlantic at war with its shore;
     A thousand times worse than the hullaballoo
     Of carnivora, fed,
     Ere going to bed,
     At the Regent's Park, or the Surrey "Zoo."
 
 
     "So ho! Sir Giant," said Jack, with a bow,
     "Of breakfast art thou fain?
     For a tit-bit wilt thou broil me now,
     An' I let thee out again? "
     Gnashing his teeth, and rolling his eyes,
     The furious lubber strives to rise.
 
 
     "Don't you wish you may get it?" our hero cries
       And he drives the pickaxe into his skull:
       Giving him thus a belly-full,
                        If the expression is n't a bull.
 

VII

 
                    Old Cormoran dead,
                       Jack cut off his head,
       And hired a boat to transport it home.
                    On the "bumps" of the brute,
       At the Institute,
       A lecture was read by a Mr. Combe.
 
 
         Their Worships, the Justices of the Peace,
         Called the death of the monster a "happy release:"
         Sent for the champion who had drubbed him,
         And "Jack the Giant Killer" dubbed him;
         And they gave him a sword, and a baldric, whereon
         For all who could read them, these versicles shone: —
 
 
            'THIS IS YE VALYANT CORNISHE MAN
            WHO SLEWE YE GIANT CORMORAN"