Lawn Tennis in the Temple Gardens

    Not in contempt but to our sport inclined
    Smile on us, shades of Judges short and tall
    Portrayed on windows of the Temple Hall;
    There was a time that ye grave thoughts resigned,
    Then, warm with sack, the Serjeants' hearts waxed kind,
    In mirth Lords Keepers danced the galliard all,
                                                Not in contempt.

    Of pleasures past the shadows here we find,
    Gay strife on brighter swards we thus recall,
    Where maiden laughter winged the flying ball;
    Declare us, fair ones, with a merry mind
                                                Not in contempt.

James Williams

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James Williams

The Squire's Daughter

James Williams, Simple Poetry

A Vision of Legal Shadows

James Williams, Simple Poetry

The Spinning-House of the Future

James Williams, Simple Poetry

A Garden Party in the Temple

James Williams, Simple Poetry

English

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A Garden Party in the Temple

    On hospitable thoughts intent
    To me the Inner Temple sent
                An invitation,
    A garden party 'twas to be,
    And I accepted readily
                And with elation;
    Good reason too, but oft the seeds
    Of reason flower in senseless deeds.

    I stood as savage as a bear,
    For not a human being there
                Knew I from Adam
    I heard around in various tones,
    "So glad to see you, Mr. Jones;"
                "Good morning, Madam."
    It seemed so painfully absurd
    To stand and never speak a word.

    I brought my doom upon myself,
    And there I was upon the shelf
                In melancholy.
    Why, say you, did I go at all?
    I once met Chloris at a ball,
    ...

James Williams

Somewhere

    Somewhere in a distant star,
    Cities of Cocaigne there are,
    Paradises of the Bar.

    Somewhere 'neath another sun
    Counsel cease to see the fun
    Lurking in a judge's pun.

    Somewhere courts are fair to see,
    Beauty joins utility,
    Ushers answer courteously.

    Somewhere there are bailiwicks
    Which for dock defences fix
    Nothing under three-five-six.

    Somewhere rises struggle sore
    For revisorships no more,
    Every shire has half a score.

    Somewhere educated thought
    Scientifically taught
    Cross-examines as it ought.

    Somewhere judgments are obeyed,
    Executions are not stayed,
    Fees are almost always paid.

    Somewhere County Councils p...

James Williams

The Squire's Daughter

    We crawled about the nursery
        In tenderest years in tether,
    At six we waded in the sea
        And caught our colds together.

    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....

James Williams

A Ballade of Lost Law

    (Spirit of Lord Eldon speaks)

    This England is gone staring mad,
    She hath abolished Chancery,[J]
    See the long lines of suitors, sad
    To find themselves unwontedly
    After one day of trial free.
    Pleading and seals have gone their way.
    "I know," said I, "that after me
    Too quickly comes the evil day."


    (Spirit of Lord Lyndhurst speaks)

    I was Chief Baron, and I had
    A Court of Law and Equity,[K]
    The Courts at Westminster were clad
    With ancient glory fair to see.
    Now County Courts have come to be
    Exalted high on our decay,
    And every whit as good as we;
    Too quickly comes the evil day.


    (Shade of Butler speaks)

    In days of yore we used to p...

James Williams

The Challenge: A Court Ballad

I.
To one fair lady out of Court,
And two fair ladies in,
Who think the Turk and Pope a sport,
And wit and love no sin!
Come, these soft lines, with nothing stiff in,
To Bellenden, Lepell, and Griffin.
With a fa, la, la.

II.

What passes in the dark third row,
And what behind the scene,
Couches and crippled chairs I know,
And garrets hung with green;
I know the swing of sinful hack,
Where many damsels cry alack.
With a fa, la, la.

III.
Then why to Courts should I repair,
Where's such ado with Townsend?
To hear each mortal stamp and swear,
And every speech with "Zounds" end;
To hear them rail at honest Sunderland,
And rashly blame the realm of Blunderland.
With a fa, la, la.

IV.
Alas! like Schu...

Alexander Pope

The Challenge, A Court Ballad.

TO THE TUNE OF 'TO ALL YOU LADIES NOW AT LAND.'

1 To one fair lady out of Court,
And two fair ladies in,
Who think the Turk^[72] and Pope^[73] a sport,
And wit and love no sin;
Come these soft lines, with nothing stiff in,
To Bellenden, Lepell, and Griffin.^[74]
With a fa, la, la.

2 What passes in the dark third row,
And what behind the scene,
Couches and crippled chairs I know,
And garrets hung with green;
I know the swing of sinful hack,
Where many damsels cry alack.
With a fa, la, la.

3 Then why to Courts should I repair,
Where's such ado with Townshend?
To hear each mortal stamp and swear,
And every speech with 'zounds!' end;
To hear 'em rail at honest Sunderland,
And rashly blame the real...

Alexander Pope