     Jack's feet the Giant did n't scan,
     Because he was a Pagan man;
     And knew no more than a mining lad
     What kind of a foot Apollyon had;

     But he thought to himself, with a puzzled brow,
     "Well, you're a rum one, any how."
     Jack took a chair, and set to work, —
     Oh! but he ate like a famished Turk;

     In sooth it was astounding quite,
     How he put the pudding out of sight.
     Thought the Giant, "What an appetite!"
     He had buttoned his coat together
     O'er a capacious bag of leather,

     And all the pudding he could n't swallow
     He craftily slipped into its hollow.

XXII

     When breakfast was finished, he said, "Old brick,
     See here; I 'll show you a crafty trick;
     You dare not try it for your life:"
     And he ripped up the bag with a table-knife.

     Squash! tumbled the smoking mess on the floor,
     But Jack was no worse than he was before.

     "Odds splutter hur nails!" swore the monster Welch,
     And he gashed his belly with fearful squelch;
               Let the daylight in
               Through the hole in his skin, —
     The daylight in and the pudding out,
     With twenty gallons of blood about;
     And his soul with a terrific "Oh!"
     Indignant sought the shades below.

JACK SCRAPES AND ACQUAINTANCE WITH THE PRINCE OF WALES

I

      Safe and sound o'er leagues of ground
      Jack so merrily capers away,
      Till Arthur's son (he had but one)
      He runs against at the close of day.

      The Prince, you know, was going to blow
      A conjuror's castle about his ears,
      Who bullied there a lady fair,
      And I don't know how many worthy peers.

      Said Jack, "My lord, my trusty sword
      And self at your princely feet I lay;
      'T is my desire to be your squire:"
      His Royal Highness replied "You may."

      The Prince was suave, and comely, and brave,
      And freely scattered his money about;
      "Tipped" every one he met like fun,
      And so he was very soon "cleared out."

      Then he turned to Jack, and cried "Good lack!
      I wonder how we 're to purchase 'grub?'"

          Said Jack so free, "Leave that to me,
          Your Royal Highness's faithful 'sub.'"
          Now night came on, and Arthur's son
             Asked "Where the dickens are we to lodge?"
          "Sir," answered Jack, "your brain do n't rack,
              You may trust to me for a crafty 'dodge:'
          A Giant high lives here hard by;
              The monster I've the pleasure to know:
     Three heads he's got, and would send to pot
              Five hundred men!" The Prince said, "Oh!"
     "My lord," Jack said, "I 'll pledge my head
     To manage the matter completely right.
          In the Giant's nest to-night we 'll rest,
     As sure as a gun, or —blow me tight!"

          Off scampers Jack, the Prince aback
     With his palfrey waits beneath a rock;
          At the castle-gate, at a footman's rate,
     Jack hammers and raps with a stylish knock.

II

             Rat-tat-tat-tat, tat-tat, —
             "Rather impudent that,"
     Said Jack to himself; "but I do n't care!"
             The Giant within,
             Alarmed at the din,
     Roared out like thunder, "I say, who's there!"

     "Only me," whispered Jack. Cried the Giant, "Who's me?"
     Pitching his voice in a treble key.
     "Your poor cousin Jack," said the hero. "Eh!"
     Said the Giant, "what news, cousin Jack, to-day?"

         "Bad," answered Jack, "as bad can be."
         "Pooh!" responded the Giant; "fiddle-de-dee!
         I wonder what news can be bad to me!
         What! an't I a Giant whose heads are three,
         And can't I lick five hundred men?
         Do n't talk to me of bad tidings, then!"

III

         "Alas!" Jack whimpered, "uncle dear,
         The Prince of Wales is coming here,
         Yourself to kill, and your castle to sack, —
         Two thousand knights are at his back.

         If I tell you a lie never credit me more."
         The Giant replied, "What a deuce of a bore!
                    But I 'll hide in my cellar,
                    And, like a good 'feller,'
         You'll lock it and bolt it, and bar it secure."

         Jack answered, "I will;
                    Only keep yourself still."
         Said the Giant, "Of that, my boy, be sure."

IV

     While the stupid old Giant, locked up with the beer,
     Lies shivering and shaking in bodily fear,
         Young Jack and young Arthur -
         Enjoy themselves – rather,
     Blowing out their two skins with the best of good cheer.
         Their banquet o'er, to roost they creep,
         And in the dreamy world of sleep
     Eat all their supper o'er again.

         Such blissful fancies haunt the brain
         Of Aldermen of London Town,
         When, after feed on Lord Mayor's day,
         Their portly bulk supine they lay
         On couch of eider-down.

V

          The morning comes; the small birds sing;
          The sun shines out like – anything;
          Jack speeds the son of Britain's King,
          The heavier by full many a wing
          And leg of pullet, on his way,
          And many a slice of ham and tongue,
          Whereon the heroes, bold and young,
          As by good right, I should have sung,
          Did breakfast on that day.

          And then he seeks the Giant's cell,
          Forgetting not to cram him well,
          How he had plied the foe with prog,
          Disarmed his wrath by dint of grog,
          And, at the head of all his men,
          Had sent him reeling home again.

          The Giant was pleased as Punch might be,
          And he capered about with clumsy glee
          (It was a comical sight to see), —

          Very like unto a whale
     When he founders a skiff with his frolicksome tail.

     Then he cocked his big eye with a playful wink,
     And roared out, "What 'll you take to drink?"
     "Well," Jack replied, "I 'll tell you what,
     I think I should n't mind a pot;
     But, nunky, – could you be so kind? -
     I wish I had those traps behind
     The nest wherein you take your nap: -
     That seedy coat and tattered cap;
     That ancient sword, of blade right rusty;
     And those old high-lows all so dusty,
     That look as though for years they'd been
     In pop-shop hung, or store marine;
     No other meed I ask than those,
     So may I have the sword and clothes? "
     "Jack," said the Giant, "yes, you may,
     And let them be a keepsake, pray;
     They 're queer, and would n't suit a 'gent;'
     But what to use is ornament?
     The sword will cut through hardest stuff,
     The cap will make you up to snuff, —
     Worth something more than 'eight and six,' —
     The shoes will carry you like 'bricks,'
     At pace outspeeding swiftest stalkers-
     (They were a certain Mr. Walker's);
     The coat excels art's best results,
     Burckhardt outvies, out-Stultzes Stultz;
     No mortal man, whate'er his note,
     Was ever seen in such a coat;
     For when you put it on your shoulders
     You vanish, straight, from all beholders!"
     "Well, hang it! surely you, old chap,
     Had not got on your knowing cap
     When you proposed last night to hide,
     Or you the magic coat had tried:
     You might have strapped it on your back
     So thought, but said not, cunning Jack,
     Thanked his three-headed relative,
     And toddled, whistling "Jack's Alive."

VI

     His cap of wit, the Giant's gift,
     Informed him where the Prince to find;
     And he has donned his "Walker's" swift,
     And, leaving chough and crow behind,
     His Royal Highness soon has joined.
     "Jack," said the Prince, for fun agog,
     "Get up behind, you jolly dog!"

     So up he jumps, and on they jog.
     They soon have gained the secret bower,
     Where, spell-bound by the warlock's power,
     Was kept in "quod" that lady bright:
     She was remarkably polite,
     Displayed before them such a spread!
     Oh! gracious goodness, how they fed!

         No lack of turtle-soup was there,
         Of flesh, and fowl, and fish,
               Of choicest dainties, rich and rare;
              Turbot and lobster-sauce, and hare;
              And turtle, plenty, and to spare;
              And sweets enough to make you stare,
         And every sort of dish.

              And there were floods of Malvoisie,
              Champagne, and Hock, and Burgundy,
              Sauterne, and Rhein-wine, and Moselle; -
         It was a bouquet, sooth, to smell;
              And there was Port and Sherry; – well;
         And more liqueurs than I can tell.

VII

     When the banquet was ended the lady arose,
     And her cherry lips wiped, and her lily white nose;
     And she gazed on the gallant young Prince with a sigh,
     And a smile on her cheek, and a drop in her eye.

     "My lord," she addressed him, "I beg you 'll excuse
     What I'm going to say, for alas! I can't choose;
     You must guess who this handkerchief pockets to-night
     To-morrow, or die if you don't guess aright!"

     She poured out a bumper, and drank it up half,
     And gave the bold Prince the remainder to quaff;
     Wherewith through the "back-flat" her exit she made,
     And left the young gentleman rather afraid.

VIII

              When the Prince retired to bed,
              He scratched, and thus bespoke his head: -

      "Where, oh! where, my upper story,
      Wilt thou be to-morrow night?
      Into what a mess, for glory,
      Rushes bold and amorous wight!"

                Jack dons, meanwhile,
                His "knowing tile," —
      How ripe he looked for a regular "lark;"
      He asks about,
      And soon finds out,
      That the lady was forced to go out in the dark
                 Every night,
                 By the pale moon light,
      To give the magician, fierce and fell,
                 All so late,
                 A tête-à-tête,
      In the gloomy depth of a forest dell.

      In his coat and his shoes at mail-train pace,
      He hies him to the trysting place.

      He travels so fast that he does n't get there
      Too late, as the saying is, for the fair;
      But he has to wait before she comes,
      Cooling his heels and biting his thumbs.

IX

      At length appears the warlock, dight
      In dressing gown of gramarye;
      And, like a spirit of the night,
      Elegantly dressed in white,
      Approaches now the fair ladye,
      And gives him the handkerchief, you see;

      "Now!" 'cried courageous Jack, "or never!
                  Die, catiff, die! "
                  (And he lets fly)
      "Thus from its trunk thy head I sever."

X

            To be a conjuror, 'tis said,
            In sooth a man requires a head;
            So Jack, by this decapitation,
            Dissolved, of course, the conjuration.

            The damsel fair, bewitched no more,
            Becomes bewitching as before;
            Restored to virtue's blooming grace,
            Which so improves the female face —
            A kalydor of high perfection,
            That beautifies the worst complexion.

XI

      The licence was bought, and, the bells ringing gay,
      The prince and the lady were married next day,
      All decked out so smart in their bridal array.

           The happy pair, the nuptials o'er,
           Start in a handsome coach-and-four
           For good King Arthur's court;
           Jack, on the box in easy pride,
           Sits by the portly coachman's side —