Charles Robert Forrester

Charles Robert Forrester Poems

Charles Robert Forrester Biography

Charles Robert Forrester (1803, London – 15 January 1850, London) was an English lawyer and writer, who sometimes wrote under the pseudonym Hal Willis, frequently with illustrations provided by his brother Alfred Henry Forrester (1804–1872) who shared the pseudonym Alfred Crowquill. Charles Robert Forrester was a son of Robert Forrester of 5 North Gate, Royal Exchange, London, a public notary. He succeeded his father as a notary, having his place of business at 5 North Piazza, Royal Exchange; he later moved to 28 Royal Exchange, where he remained until his death. His profession paid well, and he used his money and leisure to write. Under the pseudonym of 'Hal Willis, student at law', he brought out in 1824 Castle Baynard, or the Days of John, and in 1827 a second novel entitled Sir Roland, a Romance of the Twelfth Century, 4 vols. In 1826–7 he contributed to The Stanley Tales, Original and Select, chiefly Collected by Ambrose Marten, 5 vols. Absurdities in Prose and Verse, written and illustrated by Alfred Crowquill appeared in 1827, the illustrations being by Alfred Forrester: here, as later, the two brothers used the same name conjointly. C. R. Forrester also wrote for The Ladies' Museum and Louisa Henrietta Sheridan's annual Comic Offering.[2] Under the editorship of Theodore Hook he was on the staff of the New Monthly Magazine in 1837 and 1838, where he used the name Alfred Crowquill, and inserted his first contribution, "Achates Digby", in xlix. 93–8. At the close of 1839 he became connected with Bentley's Miscellany in which magazine his writings are sometimes (with illustrations by his brother) signed A. Crowquill and at other times Hal Willis. 'Mr. Crocodile,’ in viii. 49–53 (1840), was the first of his long series of papers. In 1843 a selection of his articles in those two magazines was brought out in 2 vols. under the title Phantasmagoria of Fun. Forrester was also the author of Eccentric Tales, by W. F. von Kosewitz, 1827, The Battle of the Annuals, a Fragment, 1835, and The Lord Mayor's Fool, 1840, the last two of which were anonymous. He no doubt wrote other works, but his name did not appear in the ‘British Museum Catalogue’ nor in any of the ordinary nineteenth-century books on English bibliography. He was a good English classicist and well acquainted with the Latin, French, German, and Dutch languages. His writings, like his conversation, were noted for their spontaneous wit. He died from heart disease at his house in Beaumont Square, Mile End, London, leaving a widow and four children.)

The Best Poem Of Charles Robert Forrester

The Fishmonger’s Lament

1.
'I'll fly—yes, I'll fly from my country, I will,
For at ease I am ill;—
I'll go out of Britain, or out of my mind,
For I find
Every plaice I behold—makes me think of my maid,
Who my love has repaid
With disdain!
Ah! she little knows what my heart feels;
Yet she laughs at my pain;
Cruel soul! she would laugh were I laid by the heels!'

2.
'She look'd simple and gay, like a dolphin at play;
How her errors were hid!
I thought her a lamb (lack-a-day!)
She proved a she-wolf, and made me a lam-prey!—
She did!

3.
'My heart it is lost, and my stomach's gone quite;
Morn and night,
I do nothing but whimper and weep;—
O! so deep,
A thorn in my heart she hath stuck,
(The more's my ill-luck!)
But oh! tho' she wont let me woo her,
If able I were,
Yet I ne'er
Would send that thorn-back again to her!

4.
Like an oyster's, I'll let my beard grow,
Which may show,
All the world how I grieve at my loss:—
It's a toss!
A miracle!—If I survive her rejection
Of my fond affection;
For I'm no philosopher (alas! my poor head!)
In Greek I'm no dab,
And am not deeper red,
Than a boil'd lobster—a cray, or a crab!

5.
: Oh! never did woman so torture and tussle man!
I bade her remember that I was a Christian soul;
Quoth she (and her laughter knew no control)
'Your soul may be Christian, but you're a Muscle-man!'

6.
'She call'd me a fright, and an elfish man!—
And forgot all the rings,
The gew-gaws and pretty things,
I gave her so freely to win her hard heart;
But when I so gen'rously had made her look smart,
To my view;
(Oh! she made me smart too!'
For she call'd me a scaley and sell-fish-man!'

7.
Oh! madness! despair, and distraction!
I see I shall do some blind action.
My heart is burnt out, and my brain is on fire,
I'll kill myself—ere I expire;—
Shall I shoot—hang, or drown?
Drown!
I've got but one chance (a main chance it shall be)
I will rush to the sea!
For sharks are less cruel than she;
There a pike may run clean thro' my gizzard,
And finish my fate which, indeed, is hard!
My sorrow o'er terror prevails—
So maiden—adieu!
And fair England too!
I may find some compassion in Whales!'

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