Public-domain ebook
Language: en1,738 downloads on Project Gutenberg
Subjects
In: British Law·Poetry·Humour
Public-domain ebook sourced from Project Gutenberg #25281.
The work is a whimsical hybrid of legal treatise and verse, titled Briefless Ballads and Legal Lyrics Second Series by James Williams. It opens with a parade of fictional litigants, Aulus Agerius, Numerius Negidius, John Doe, Richard Roe, drawn from Roman, English and Islamic law, then drifts into a nostalgic childhood scene of a squire’s daughter playing makeshift cricket. From there the narrator, a barrister‑in‑training, weaves personal anecdotes, satirical court observations and lyrical digressions about love, poetry, and the ancient practice of setting statutes to rhyme. The opening establishes a pattern of rapid shifts between scholarly footnotes, mock‑heroic storytelling, and lyrical interludes, inviting the reader to follow a mind that constantly oscillates between legal argument and poetic fancy.
Williams writes in a lively, eighteenth‑century‑styled prose that borrows the cadence of mock‑epic poetry while peppering the text with legal jargon and historical references. The voice is erudite yet playful, full of self‑aware humor and occasional mock‑seriousness, reflecting a period when law and literature were more closely intertwined. Readers who enjoy a blend of scholarly satire, historical legal trivia, and inventive verse, particularly those with an affinity for classical allusion and the oddity of “law‑poetry”, will find this collection an entertaining, if unconventional, exploration of the crossroads between courtroom rhetoric and poetic imagination.
The opening · free to read
At ten we practised playing at A kind of heathen cricket, A croquet mallet was the bat, The Squire's old hat the wicket.
At twelve, the cricket waxing slow, With home-made bow and arrow We took to shooting--once I know I all but hit a sparrow.
She took birds' nests from easy trees, I climbed the oaks and ashes, 'Twas deadly work for hands and knees, Deplorable for sashes.
At hide and seek one summer day We played in merry laughter, 'Twas then she hid her heart away, I never found it after.
So time slipped by until my call, For out of the professions I chose the Bar as best of all, And joined the Loamshire Sessions.
The reason for it was that there Her father, short and pursy, Doled out scant justice in the chair And even scanter mercy.
As Holofernes lost his head To Judith of Bethulia, So I fell victim, but instead Of Judith it was Julia.
My speech left juries in the dark, Of Julia I was thinking, And once I heard a coarse remark About a fellow drinking.
I practised verse in leisure time Both in and out of season, It was indubitably rhyme, Occasionally reason.
I lacked the cheek to tell my woes, Had not concealment fed on My damask cheek, but left my nose With twice its share of red on?
Too horrible was this suspense, At last, in desperation I went to Loamshire on pretence Of death of a relation.
The Squire was beaming; "Julia's gone To London for a visit, But with a wedding coming on That's not surprising, is it?
"Old friends like you will think, no doubt, That she is young to marry, But ever since she first came out, She's been engaged to Harry."
I sat by the fire and watched it blaze, And dreamed that she wrote me a letter, And for that dream to the end of my days To Fancy I owe myself debtor.
Next day there came the postman's knock, The morning was bright and sunny, And showed me a sheaf of circulars, stock Attempts to get hold of my money.
'Mid correspondence of this dull kind A dainty notelet lay hidden, It seemed as though it had half a mind To consider itself forbidden.
The writing was like herself, complete, With a touch of her queenly bearing, So Venus wrote when she ordered in Crete Her doves to take her an airing.
Inside it was just as promising, 'Twas a pressing invitation To dine at her house to-morrow, and bring My book for her approbation.
For I have published, be it confessed, A little volume of verses, And in the volume whatever is best The praise of herself rehearses.
I sit by the fire, and again I dream A happier dream than ever, I see her beautiful eyes soft gleam As she murmurs, "How lovely--how clever!"
Her criticism may be commonplace, But who can be angry after Now sweet with pity he marks her face, Now bright with impulsive laughter?
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